#He's very selfish. He builds his life around having his cake and eating it too and then moping and being sad and etc when he can't

[serpentface]

Hibrides and Brakul having the world’s saddest booze-fueled girl’s night, probably a few months before the start of the story.

Anyway here's an extensive rundown of their shared history.

Hibrides Uryashta was the eldest daughter of a chancellor of the imperial city-state of Erubinnos (his lordship Erub Uryashta). She was brought up with great privilege and security, but (like most daughters of noblemen) was destined to be used as a bargaining chip in a political marriage arrangement. She was taken from her friends and family and moved to the city of Wardin at the age of 16 to complete her pledged marriage with Janeys Haidamane, the failson of the trade magnate Haidamane family. Janeys spent about a week poorly attempting to behave like a husband, and then took the first excuse to flee and engage in a petty military campaign against raiders on the Yellowtail trade route. She found herself left alone in his villa for three years with only hired servants for company. She made a few attempts to break into the city's elite social scene, but was quite shy and failed to make any headway.

Brakul had just spent a year and a half in a bit of a whirlwind. He was brought into a skirmish at the behest of an allied clan, who had been raiding the Yellowtail route and now was under attack by combined forces of an enemy clan and Imperial Wardi mercenaries. He killed one of the mercenary commanders and was captured as a prisoner of war, but was spared at Janeys' behest (who fucking hated that guy thought it was awesome that he got killed with a rock) and was ultimately recruited into the group. He had a chance to go back home, but actively chose to deadbeat dad out on his wife and child to be with his newfound lovequest, Janeys. He spent a year and a half as a mercenary, bonded closely with Janeys and swore brotherhood with him, and was eventually brought home to the city of Wardin with him. He found himself in the odd position of being simultaneously scorned as a foreigner and 'heathen', and the legal kin of one of the richest families in the city (and effectively the secret male concubine of their only male heir).

It was in this context that the two of them met, with Hibrides now being 19 and Brakul turning 27.

The two were initially wary of each other (Hibrides was particularly put off by his 'heathen' status) but bonded very quickly, partly due to their mutual states of being unmoored from their old lives, but in large part being just a natural chemistry. They had a lot of common interests and enjoyed learning from each other. Hibrides introduced him to traditional verse poetry (of which she was very fond). Brakul taught her how to ride khait, and even gave her a gelding from his own collection as a gift. They became very close friends over the next couple of years and spent much of their free time together.

A big part of the dynamic was that both of them are gay in a cultural context where there is no concept of Being gay, marriages are usually arranged and always between a man and a woman, and having children is a societal expectation. Each of them began to see the other as an ideal husband/wife, ie "if I had to marry why couldn't it have been him/her?". For Hibrides' part, Brakul had all the traits she would want in a husband: he was a pretty good friend and easy to get along with, he seemed like he'd do an excellent job of fulfilling expected roles as a husband and father (she didn't know about the wife and kid for a while), he treated her as an equal, and, most of all, had no interest whatsoever in fucking her. They were both in a sort of platonic emotional affair, and grew to love each other deeply.

Hibrides was pretty quick to catch on that something was going on between Brakul and Janeys, and found it strange and offputting but ultimately none of her concern. Her husband only being interested in his sworn brother and leaving her to her own devices suited Hibrides just fine, and Brakul always just kinda being There meant she was living with what had become her closest friend.

The stable state of this Feelings Triangle began to change in the wake of the brilliant plan to get Janeys (gay) (probably infertile) children he could pass off as legitimate via a Brakul/Hibrides pregnancy. It was something all three agreed to as a necessity; it was already drawing scrutiny that Janeys and Hibrides had been married for several years without a pregnancy, and producing heirs is a societal expectation and a central point of an arranged marriage between wealthy elites.

It was especially critical in this case, given Janeys was his family's only male child and only hope of continuing the family line, given both his golden-child sister Faiza and black sheep half sister Couya were Odonii, and thus sworn virgins and would never marry. (There's also a level to this that Janeys was regarded as a complete disappointment by his parents, and his mother made damn sure he knew that his only value at this point was to produce a better male heir to inherit the business. So this was a big fucking deal to him, and to Brakul by extension).

This was also not a route any of them wanted to take on any personal level, least of all Hibrides. She consented to the pregnancy and everything it entailed, but it was inevitably a painful and distressing experience all around. She had never wanted to be a mother to begin with (though had long accepted it as an inevitability), and now found herself with an infant daughter, which only meant it would have to happen again (they needed a male heir after all). And it would be utter social suicide and a profound shame upon her if the child's illegitimacy was discovered, which only added to the stress.

To make things worse, her first pregnancy shifted the entire dynamic with her husband and brother-in-law/best friend. Janeys changed from completely indifferent to actively spiteful and hostile towards her, and things had become extremely uncomfortable between Hibrides and Brakul. It only got worse with Brakul (the only one of them who actually WANTS kids) (kind of haunted by skipping out on his first child) finding it unbearable to be so close to HIS daughter and having to keep up an act that she was not his own, having no direct role in the kids life. He desperately wanted to be a father.

Hibrides, who was going through a fucking lot, started to become vindictive towards him for his role in things. She resented him more than Janeys, because Brakul insisted he cared about her and would desperately try to pretend things were normal, while consistently siding with Janeys against her wishes, including in preventing her from getting a divorce. (His excuse is that the children's legitimacy would be interrogated in a legal setting, which Is likely and Would be absolute social suicide with very real consequences. But the real reason on his part is that if she got out of the marriage, he might never see her or the children again). Hibrides began to do everything in her power to prevent him from having any relationship with his bastard children, even in secret or under the guise of a relative. Sort of an “if I have to suffer to keep up this facade so should you” thing.

They had two children in a span of three years, two girls (ruh roh!) named Erubi and Livya. By this point, Hibrides and Brakul were both experiencing what we would now call Clinical Depression and Alcohol Use Disorder (especially in the latter's case). Hibrides started to have affairs with both men and women, which she was sure to be very obvious about to insult Janeys and Brakul, but was mostly out of loneliness. Brakul turned his complete focus to Janeys and started avoiding Hibrides entirely, in hopes that she would become desperate enough to be willing to make amends (shockingly, this did not happen, and the rift only deepened).

In the present, their relationship status is: fucked. Both of them do still love each other on some level, but this is probably beyond repair. What little time they've spent with each other in the past year is sitting around being miserable and getting plastered. And now Hibrides, Janeys, and Brakul are all forced into the public eye on the pilgrimage together, and with a third child on the way. So that's probably going to be everyone's problem.

[mood2you]

Okay the machinations of Spiderverse make more sense to me the second go around... But now I don't really understand the have your cake and eat it too. As long as you're not late. Everyone does, kids should be encouraged too! Peter B Parker has a family and his "work" of being in the Spider time-cops. Miles dad may be a bit of a workaholic but due to Spider-Man's uniqueness they get moments like looking over the balchony, and after all he's a good dad. You could majoe in physics and minor in spanish.

Or they don't. Universes dissolving because Spider-Man did something selfish is very stupid imagine the ego existentialism Tony Stark, main character of Earth in Tom Holland's universe the same way Thor is main character of Asgaard, which is also stupid but if you have a whole universe to populate hey! If this Spider-Man disaolved hia verse Tony would be like wa but I'm the main character! So that's arupid

then if The Spot is doing it why did he mess with Miguel he's not Miles! Like how dis this dissolving atuff start?

I'd rather the stupid main character thing. Then if they can make Spot reformed and good he can just put the whole dimension into a spot and then put them in another dimension. It's easy: put all of Mumbattan in a dimension where gravity is a little different ao rhe buildings can even taller, and stuff. And in the dimension is the police chief and the child because all life is precious...

Pavitr wven says "I can do both" ans that hopefulness gives him more atretgth to pull the bus higher. I onow the message isn't to give up on one thing for the old thing, simce Miles is gonna do borh and we jaut have to wait and see how hendoes it! You know Gwen really sid save her dad just by talking to him! Half way theough your big speech!

It's not about having a super cuchy priveleged life to not have lost anyone, and I don't think it's ever eaay to clearcut how to save Uncle Ben beaides actually going to the library and not lying... But if he could save him it might be just as inspirational, that he can save people in general

[hottestthingalive]

If the fake fic titles are still open: id like to suggest “its too quiet” as a fic title (if they arent open feel free to delete this)

ooooohhhhh this is gonna be fun

-It’s quiet when Logan wakes up.

-Far too quiet, he thinks, because he lives in a castle, and there’s always some noise by the time he wakes up, even if it’s just the birds or the wind or the creaking of an old building in the winter. 

-He cannot hear any of these things. 

-Logan is the advisor to royalty. He did not get this job by having bad instincts, and so he sits up and gets dressed immediately. 

-The castle is empty, he thinks at first, because it’s almost past noon (and why oh why did he sleep in so late?) and no one is there. The throne room, the kitchens, the gardens, the library, even the town outside -- not a single person seems to be there but himself. 

-And then he checks the rooms, and he understands. 

-They’re asleep. Everyone in the castle (and he can guess the town outside, too, and possibly the whole land) is fast asleep, and no matter what he does, he cannot wake them. He does his best, desperately tries to wake King Thomas, but he fails. 

-He fails, and it is so, so quiet. 

-And then there is noise. 

-“Get away from our father, witch!” yells a familiar voice, though one he has never heard quite so desperate, and the twin princes crash into him, dragging him to the floor, knocking his head against the tiles as they stand over him with swords they must have pilfered from the guards and helmets and shields that are too large for them. 

-“Roman? Remus?” he says, because he cannot believe they are awake, and the five-year old crown princes’ eyes widen in recognition. 

-“Lolo?” Remus says first, and tears up, and he drops his sword to fall into Logan’s arms, already sobbing. “What’s happening? Why is everyone asleep?” Roman joins the hug quickly, and Logan sits up holding them both, and does not care that his tunic is soaked with their tears because he is so glad to see them. 

-“I don’t know,” he admits. 

-They leave the castle, eventually. Though the food does not rot and everything still works, they are all getting sad and scared and angry staying in this empty palace, and besides, Logan says they must look for a cure for whatever this is. Once they have waited two weeks, and know the sleepers do not need food or water or cleaning (once they have waited two weeks, and have been alone with just each other for so long, the quiet creeping into their bones and hearts and souls) they leave the castle.

-Everywhere has been affected, Logan starts to think. Nothing rots, nothing decays, but every living thing they see in their travels is fast asleep. They take food with them, and when they run out they borrow it from the more affluent homes they pass. Roman and Remus change from their princely attire to clothes better for traveling, and though Logan does his best to seem respectable at all times, he does as well, too. The twins grow out their hair, and he teaches them to braid it, keeping his own tied up as best he can. 

-It is months before they meet Virgil and Patton and Janus, before Logan wanders into a pub when the princes are fast asleep to try and get a drink, Virgil popping up from behind the bar with wide eyes, a confused expression, and a sleeping baby in his arms. Patton is a toddler, who calls Virgil “Ver!” and Janus is so young, barely old enough to eat foods other than milk. Logan does not question the scales that cross one side of Janus’ face, nor Patton’s green-tinged skin and webbed fingers, or Virgil’s sharp teeth and purple and green eyes, but his princes do, incessantly. Virgil does not seem to mind. 

-“Are Janus and Patton our new brothers?” Roman asks one day, whispering it to Logan as he and Patton play “Patton-cake” (A name Logan despises, for the record) and Virgil rocks Janus to sleep, Remus tracing the scales on the baby’s left side with careful curiosity. 

-Logan exchanges looks with Virgil (Virgil who has begun to sit closer to him when the children are asleep, who exchanges stories and points out stars and is a shoulder for Logan to cry on, who he thinks is quite pretty and maybe, just maybe, could be something a tad different from a friend to him) and smiles, soft and sad. “They might as well be,” he says, and the young prince just grins, and takes Patton’s chubby hands in his own, and says “You hear that, Pat? We’re brothers, now!”

-Patton giggles, and says “Ro!” and “Re!” and “Lo!” and “Ver!” and “Ja!” and then “Mily!” 

-Virgil looks over, still holding Janus, and frowns. “What’s ‘Mily’?” he asks, stepping closer. 

-Logan might have guessed that it had been Patton’s family, before, but Virgil had told him one night, in a hushed whisper, that Patton had never met his parents, Virgil’s brother and his partners, that they had died when he was a baby and Virgil had taken him in. Janus was a more recent addition to their little band, a changeling left to die in the forest before Virgil had rescued him. 

-“Family,” Remus says, in the way of his that almost seems unnatural, how he and his brother always seem to know what one is thinking, and perhaps they do. (This correlates to Logan’s theory -- that they remain awake because of magic in their blood. Virgil has confessed that he is a witch, a healer, primarily, that his brother had had the gift too and had thus given magical blood to Patton. Then there is Janus’ changeling nature, and Logan’s own magical descent from a human father and faerie mother. No one knows where the twins came from, just that the king and his partner had adopted them, and they could very well have power running through their veins, enough to know a toddler’s thoughts, or when someone is not looking so they can steal cookies from the kitchen, or to tease Logan about his ‘crush’ on Virgil.)

-“Family?” Logan says, and Patton repeats it; “Mily!” 

-They find a way to break the curse, eventually, after three years, after they find the Dragon Witch and she warns them of a sorcerer who had plunged the world into an endless sleep. They have been living in a cottage built by Logan and Virgil and Janus’ budding telekinesis for years, now, the princes nine and strong and fast and brave, Patton six and an unusually fast swimmer and so, so kind, Janus nearly four and in awe of his brothers, toddling along after them at any opportunity. Virgil insists that they need to find this sorcerer, break the curse, when the children have been put to bed and he and Logan and the Dragon Witch sit at the kitchen table. The Dragon Witch (DW, as she insists they call her, refusing to give her real name, wary of Logan and Janus and their fey descent) says it is too dangerous, alone, and he reminds her they are three, seven with the children too. Logan sides with DW, though he sees Virgil’s point, and eventually he is swayed. 

-Logan has long since fallen in love with Virgil, though he has not told him. He hopes Virgil knows that the long hours sitting on the bench under the willow tree outside their cottage and the mornings of cooking together and sleepy conversations and the nights spent in the same bed after the nightmares from being alone became too much for them both mean more to him than anything else in the world, save for the children they raise together. Sometimes, he thinks his feelings might be returned, and those are the days he feels like he might be glowing from the inside out. 

-And when the sorcerer aims a spell at Virgil, says “If you are so lonely without the human-kind, you may sleep with them!” Logan jumps in the way, finds himself staggering and falling backwards into Virgil’s arms, sees horrified glowing purple and green eyes just before his eyes close. “I love you,” he whispers, and then he drifts away. 

-And then he wakes up, and Virgil is clutching his face in his hands, eyes wide with shock, tears wet against his cheeks, and he says “Logan Logan Logan!” like it is a prayer and pulls him into a hug.

-“What happened?” he asks, and Virgil turns a furious shade of red, and DW laughs and laughs. “True love’s kiss!” Patton exclaims, eyes wide and shining with glee, and Logan finds himself blushing too. 

-As in every fairy tale, true love’s kiss does indeed break the spell. The king is shocked, to see his sons so grown, but he is also more than happy to accept his new ones. “I do not want to make it seem like you are not their parents, as well,” Thomas tells Logan and Virgil, “for you are, and it would be selfish of me to think otherwise. Thank you, for saving me, and for caring for my sons.” He and Logan are rather good friends, after that, and when Logan is made a lord (and a rather powerful one, at that) it is only surprising to him. 

-Virgil lives in the palace with them, and Logan finds himself flirting and holding hands and blushing far too often. They kiss again a few months later. They are married when Roman and Remus are eleven, Patton nine, and Janus five, and the king himself performs the ceremony. Patton scatters flower petals when they walk up the aisle hand in hand, Roman and Remus ties the long black and purple and blue ribbons around their wrists, binding them together, and Janus presents them with the knives they had given each other, as tradition dictates, to put in marriage sheaths at their sides. The Dragon Witch (who has long since told them her name, by now) makes the sky explode in color for them, and watches the children while Virgil and Logan dance together. 

-Logan finds his family in the quiet, and yet he loves them for the noise they bring into his life. And in the end, he would not have had it any other way, even for all the hardship, for he cannot imagine a world without them. 

I really do have a brand, and it is Analogical™. But I loved loved loved writing this piece, and I might expand on it in the future for funsies because sometimes family is a half-fey advisor to the king, a witch/healer, two slightly magical princes, a small frog child and the witch’s nephew, a tiny baby changeling, the king and his partner, and a dragon witch pretending to be mean who’s really just a big softie. 

Send me a fake fic title and I’ll tell you what I’d write for it!

[crackcrocs]

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.  

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system  time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good  MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿  if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.

[k-writer1998]

Who Said Love Was Easy? (11/12)

      There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: 1.7k

tw: mentions/ allusion to abuse

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

Jeongin's POV

      What just… my mind was reeling at everything going on as I stared down at the folder in my hand. When did I get it back? How- No, shake it off I have to attend a meeting when I get back. But y/n, she- Stop, gotta get back now…

      Safe to say everything blurred by after that. I didn’t even really realize I was home until I heard the door slam behind me before I was greeted with silence yet again. I collapsed on the couch with a sigh as I covered my eyes. Although I was tired and just wished to sleep, instead my mind played back today’s incident. This wasn’t the first time we’ve argued but this was different, it was the full force of our frustrations and anger. Then there was the fear… the flinch playing back in my mind on an endless loop. After seeing her brother do that then everything at the dinner, I should’ve known but I never thought- don’t make excuses for yourself… What am I even doing right now, arguing with myself?

      A couple days passed and it felt like I was woken from a haze. There were certain aspects of this job I liked but a lot was just something I didn’t want to do. I knew this from the beginning but why has it been so much more prominent in my mind now? Then there was the topic of Gahyeon. For as long as I’ve had my feelings for her, she equaled my happiness. I’ve always wanted to have that smile so filled with love turned to me but when I started to notice it faced someone else, I started to panic. Was it because I was losing her or was it because I was losing what I considered to be my happiness? My head was a mess but thankfully Seungmin invited me over for dinner today and maybe it could take a break before my brain fried itself. Seungmin noticed my worries as I was pulled from my thoughts by him knocking on the table. 

“If you keep staring at the fire like that it’ll end up eating you. What’s on your mind?”

“Hyung…” I explained the whole argument, leaving out the part involving buying the building, to Seungmin who silently nodded along. A few beats of silence passed when I finished before he spoke. 

“This was probably inevitable considering both of you are stubborn but it did escalate further than needed. After having a few days to think about it, do you have some regrets?”

“I mean yeah but the more I think about it the more confused I get. Maybe hearing an outside view would help? I don’t know. I mean my brain can’t burn out more than it already has right?”

“It’s okay using your brain was never your strong suit.”

“Yah hyung!”

“But anyways,” he ignored, “since you’ve been at the company have you been happy? In general or with yourself?”

“Not really…”

“Well when was the last time you were?”

“When I was working at the pub.”

“Why?”

“Everyone treated me as an equal.”

“And?”

“And everyone one was really nice.”

“And?”

“And what else?! Seungmin-hyung, get to the point.”

“Really not your strong point,” He sighs as he continued, “you were happy there because they treated you like family. Something you haven’t felt since the divorce I may add.”

“Ouch…” That one stung. 

“Hey, don’t make me look like the bad guy. We’ve gone over the whole “family” issue enough through our friendship that I can at least say that much. Now the subject of Gahyeon, as your best friend I think whatever thing you had for Gahyeon died.”

      I wanted to argue but I can’t wholeheartedly deny that fact. I’ve felt the doubt in regards to my feelings swimming in my mind since before the argument but I’ve lived like that for so long I didn’t know how to stop myself. I groaned. 

“Am I an idiot?”

“In this situation and in general… yeah. I’m sure you didn’t notice but when I asked why the pub made you happy, you didn’t mention Gahyeon.”

      At the realization I ruffled my hair in frustration. He’s right yet again. Why did I think talking with Seungmin would make me feel better? Our friendship was built off tough love. Now the only thing he hasn’t jabbed at me for was y/n… All I ever do is accuse her whenever we disagree, like a child throwing a tantrum. I’ve only been thinking about myself this whole time and ignored her feelings, like an ass. Before my brain could spiral down to the flinch once again, Seungmin snapped me out of it once again.

“So are we gonna talk about the biggest fault or are you gonna pretend you don’t see that too?”

“I know I shouldn’t have accused her like that… or entered her space so suddenly. I was selfish and hated the thought of losing the argument.”

“At least you know why you were wrong, one less lecture on my part.”

“Wow, whose best friend are you?” I rolled my eyes.

“Yours, that’s why I’ll call you out when you need to be. Y/n never took advantage of your weak moments when something happened with Gahyeon and I’ll tell you this, whenever we talk about you it’s because she’s worried.”

“Thanks… you’re really helping me feel better.”

“Tone down the sarcasm and maybe I’ll help you fix things.”

      We continued to talk over the grilled meat and by the time I came home, I knew what I had to do. The first being to find out explicitly what happened in y/n’s past while I try to fix the biggest mistake. After a few days I met Jaehyung in a café, might as well start where I first heard it right? We caught up a bit with him complaining I needed to come by more often before I brought it up.

“Hyung I don’t mean to be nosey but what happened last year that made you so worried about y/n on her birthday?”

“Ah! Did something happen when you went to dinner with her?!” 

“Nothing like last time,” I quickly reassured before clarifying, “they were just very… condescending to say the least.”

“Sorry, I worry about y/n cause she’ll never say anything if something happens,” he apologized as the tension that shot to his shoulders left just as quickly.

“Yeah she does, that’s why I ended up coming to you.”

“She wouldn’t like me talking about it but it’s because you guys are so close and you practically know already that I’ll tell you.”

      Although he said that as a compliment I felt it jab at me. No, we’ve been over this. Hating yourself won’t fix anything and we have a plan so let’s just stick to it. 

“Thanks hyung.”

“Other than the incident from last year, a lot of it is speculation on my part. I was only given the bare minimum because I saw it happen so I don’t have much.”

      Y/n has been a bit skittish lately for some reason. I know it’s around her birthday but she never acted like this, although it wasn’t really her favorite day either. She has been ignoring someone it seems though. There are times at the pub where her phone rings and her nose scrunches in distaste before she rejects the call or deletes the text. I’ve heard hushed arguments pass through our relatively thin walls but I can never really catch what was going on. That girl really worries me, she doesn’t let anyone in and hides behind snarky comments and sarcasm. I grabbed her some cake on the way home, hopefully she’ll feel a bit better. Exiting the elevator, groceries in hand, I was surprised to spot unfamiliar people leaving y/n’s apartment since she only has a small circle of friends that hasn’t changed much since I’ve known her. Judging by the older woman and two others who look like her, were they y/n’s family? Before I could call out to y/n, my voice caught in my throat at what happened at that moment and my body froze. The older woman grabbed a fist full of y/n’s hair, forcing her to face her, and that was when I noticed the other marks along her face and arms. In that instance our eyes connected and her eyes widened in fear as she shook her head ever so slightly. The woman noticed the motion and cocked her head. Y/n didn’t want me seen so before the woman turned to look I turned the corner and pressed myself against the wall. As I heard their footsteps approach me I quickly pushed the elevator button to make it seem like I just got off. I breezed by them with my head down and practically threw my groceries in my house before ringing y/n’s bell. Silence. With a sigh I entered her code and stormed in. There she was, sitting on the floor of her living room. It was the first time she ever looked so weak, even flinching as the door closed.

“You know how she is. Y/n doesn’t like to show her weakness to others and rarely does she cry in front of someone. That day she cried her eyes out and stopped putting up her act for once.”

“So they really…”

“Mhmm. Can’t say for how long but it was enough. Probably had it worse too, seeming as though the cut on her lip, nail marks on her arms, and the bruises didn’t phase her all that much.”

“Sorry hyung, it must be unpleasant to bring it up again but thank you for telling me.”

      There was a lot to process with that and a lot of things were starting to connect clearly now. God, I suck. I can’t ask her to forgive me but maybe at least with what I have planned she can hate me a little less? I’m not sure what I’m trying to accomplish with this but I do know I don’t want to lose y/n as a friend.

[wenttworth]

growth;

Jon said Martin's name in a wide variety of ways since they met. All of them had done something to those nervous butterflies in the pit of his stomach, from killing them off slowly to sending them to a wild frenzy.

Although they first woke several months ago now, they were no closer to relaxing like they had for any of Martin's other crushes. Martin had taken one look at the small man stood in front of him, dark eyebrows furrowed over dark eyes, slightly greying hair to his shoulders tucked artlessly behind one ear, clocked the colourful stains on his fingernails that came from scrubbing at them with cheap nail varnish remover, and had been overwhelmed for more than the time it took to finish the conversation. He'd never met anyone before who quite so markedly ticked every box of 'his type'.

This way just made Martin spring into action.

"Oh, that's his 'spiders, Martin' call," he muttered.

Tim grinned at him as he leapt to his feet. "We could always lock him in there with it," he said. Sasha snorted and Tim leant forward to prop his chin on his hands. "Maybe he'd die of fright. It would lend more credence to some of these tales." Shaking a statement derisively as he fixed his eyes on Martin's.

"Martin." A slightly more panicked Jon called from his office.

"It's not fair to play with people's phobias," Martin said. Tim just kept smiling at him.

Jon was stood back from his desk, anxiously staring at a tape recorder, upon which an impressively large spider was sat. Well, large by British standards.

Martin was well used to this process by now. He calmly scooped the spider into his hands and pointedly did not look at Jon as he scurried away from him.

Jon only relaxed when Martin had thrown the spider out. "Okay?" Martin asked.

Jon stared at him for a moment, before giving an abrupt nod.

His hands were shaking, and there was a pale undertone to his brown skin which worried Martin more than it ought. "Do you want some tea?" he continued gently.

Jon blinked. "Please," he said. "Thank you, Martin."

The butterflies flurried to life.

-

"I have a crush on Jon," Martin announced, louder than he should, with more certainty than he could have mustered four drinks ago.

Sasha made a face halfway between pity and a grimace. A pitying grimace? That was an oxymoron, surely. "Martin, you can do so much better than Jon."

Sasha didn't know about his forged CV, and Martin pointedly did not think about it, did not look down at his body that had never felt right, did not think about anything but the thankful smile Jon had given him when he had passed him his tea. "You got that the..." he swung an index finger left and right. "You got that the wrong way round."

Sasha sighed, and sighed even louder when Tim dropped between them and immediately swung his arms around both their shoulders. But she still smiled at him with something that, though not love, was something still close. "Am I interrupting?" he asked. Martin shook his empty beer bottle.

"I just thought we should invite Jon to some of these evenings," Sasha chirped.

Tim didn't seem convinced, and Martin very carefully sent her a glare. There was no way Tim hadn't picked up on his crush on Jon, but he still wanted to maintain some illusion of self-prepossession, and had enough pride to not want to admit it. "He's our boss now, Sash. It would be weird."

"Just remember that he has no firing power. Whatever we say or--" teasingly meaningful look at Martin, "--or do, he can't do anything about it."

Martin squinted at her as Tim protested between them. “We can’t go out with our boss, Sash. That makes it a work thing.”

Martin would much rather Sasha and Tim not come to an evening with Jon, but that was frankly a little rude to say when they had known him much longer.

“Next thing you know she’ll be inviting Elias.”

Martin shuddered and Sasha smacked Tim over the head.

“Please don’t,” Martin insisted. “He was so weird about Jon’s cake; it made me feel way too uncomfortable.”

Sasha cackled, “The boss with an insatiable thirst for cake,” she boomed in a voice that wouldn’t be out of place in an action movie trailer voiceover.

“What will he eat--”

“No, consume, Tim.”

“Oh, good idea! What will he consume next?!” he continued in an imitation of the voice, only marginally more impressive.

“Don’t,” Martin begged, but he still laughed.

-

There was something...unnerving about being in the institute alone after dark.

Less unnerving than being stuck in his apartment, only his overactive imagination and the handful of paperbacks for company, an eldritch entity with worms for fingers, hair, guts tapping at the door and tempting him to join her embrace.

He would be so loved, she had insisted. So adored, held in the grasp of a million creatures, a part of something so much bigger than just him. Thank anyone who listened that he had a horror for anything that writhed. 

He tried to scare himself sometimes, to relieve the boredom between gaps of writers’ block. Moving a torch so the beam threw uncanny, elongated figures a shadow against the wall. Creeping through the hallways and muttering horror stories under his breath. His poems took on a decidedly spooky feeling, less purple prose about the rain in the city, the warmth of someone’s touch. He would wait until everyone, even Jon and Elias, had left to twist his way through the halls, watching for any small, wriggling worms to crush with triumph against the floor.

At least, until tonight.

He was sure someone was creeping around, too. Sticking to the shadows and tapping slow rhythms against the hardwood floors. He always seemed to just catch their shadow as they disappeared around a corner. It took only an hour of building up his nerves, pushing the horror narrative that was constructing itself in his brain, before Jon appeared in the kitchen.

Martin immediately poured boiling water over his hand, yelping as it burned.

“Martin!” Jon exclaimed, rushing forwards to inspect the burn and quickly dragged him to the sink, shoving his hand over a jet of cold water.

“Is it you who’s been creeping around here all evening?” Martin asked, more than a little snippy from the pain in his hand.

“Creeping?” Jon exclaimed, annoyed and indignant. “I haven’t been creeping anywhere, I was walking around the institute!”

“Yes, but quietly. I thought Jane had come back!”

Jon’s furrowed brow relaxed, and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was here.” It was a moment later that he let go of Martin’s hand, pointedly ordered him to stay where he was and informed him that he was going to locate a first aid kit.

It made Martin feel uncomfortable, in all honesty. He didn’t want to be taken care of by Jon. By all accounts, it should be the other way around. There was no reason for Jon to be in the institute outside of a normal work day. There was no reason for him to be anywhere but at home. Martin should insist. Should urge him to leave.

The selfishness was stronger this time. He didn’t want to be alone here. Not when everything was so uncertain.

He watched the water fall and drip around his hand. It was already blistering, even under the cold. That would hurt tomorrow; it was his dominant hand.

“C’mere,” a soft voice said behind him. Martin turned--Jon was like an assassin when he was barefoot-- and held out his free hand for the first aid kit. Jon frowned at him. “Don’t be stupid; I’ll put the cream on.”

Martin could only be relieved that he was too gobsmacked to blush as Jon took his hand with a gentleness that struck him speechless, and with soft fingers--thin and small against his hand--rubbed the cream in small circles until it absorbed. He cut out a small bandage after, placing it against the burn with even more gentle movements. “You should be more careful, Martin,” he said.

Martin was still speechless, sat at the break room table as Jon finished up making the tea Martin had started and brought it to him. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Uh…” Martin stammered. Maybe it was something about the evening light that softened Jon so much, something about the casual, comfortable clothes he wore, his hair in a dishevelled bun on top of his head. “No. I was going to make some ramen.”

Jon wrinkled his nose at the instant ramen packet that had been left on the side ready for his dinner. “No you’re not,” he replied. “I have enough for the two of us; I’ll make us something.”

“Really?” Martin asked, a little disbelieving.

“What?” Jon barked, squaring his shoulders.

“I… I didn’t expect it, is all.”

“Oh.” He relaxed again. “It would be rude to just make something for myself.”

“Jon?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you here?”

Jon let out a sigh. “It’s...I’m worried. I don’t know when Jane will reappear, and every time I leave the office or my flat I’m looking over my shoulder to see if she’s coming after me. At least here I know I can…” he trailed off. “I feel safer here? Or at least, like I have more control.”

“Where are you planning on sleeping?” Martin asked. Maybe a bit forward to tell him that he didn’t mind if Jon wanted to share the cot. There was probably just enough space for the two of them, and it wasn’t as if he’d never shared a bed with a friend before. Just never with a friend he had such a strong crush on.

Jon started clattering around the tiny kitchenette, pulling spices from the cupboards and vegetables from the fridge. “I set up another cot in my office,” he answered. Martin made to join him to help with preparing the vegetables, but Jon waved him away insistently. “I’m doing this, you’re hurt, Martin.”

So instead he watched as Jon’s practiced hands pulled the ingredients together, a heavenly aroma coming from the pot. He was more relaxed than Martin had ever seen him, going so far as to hum a tune under his breath and laugh at some of the things Martin observed. What resulted was remarkable; Martin had never had the time or patience to cook anything other than the bare minimum. Whatever dishes he may have learnt from his mother were made impossible when she fell ill, his father’s spiced curries a faded memory long in the distance. If Martin remembered rightly and trusted his nose, it wasn’t far from what Jon was cooking.

The selection that was placed in front of him would have made a king’s mouth water.

“Who taught you to cook like that?” Martin asked, wondering and almost swooning when he tasted some.

Jon watched him for a moment, a small smile playing around the corners of his lips before joining him. “My grandmother. She lived in Bangladesh until she was in her forties, and never adapted her cooking to the UK.”

“Which I can only thank her for now,” Martin replied.

“She taught me from a very young age. I think I was cooking curries before I could read.”

There was a fondness in his voice that made Martin’s chest ache. Jon loved his grandmother, that much was certain.

Would he have felt any differently, had he had any connection to his father?

-

Jon was furrowing his brow at the menu above the counter. “Do you want your usual?” Martin asked.

He blinked. “I wanted to try something different but… I forgot my glasses.”

“Oh.” He cast a glance at the board again. The writing was large, easy for Martin to read even from the other side of the restaurant. “You… you really are blind, aren’t you?” he added.

Jon glowered. “I didn’t choose to be.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Jon replied immediately. The butterflies leapt into action at just how confidently he said it, the confused twist of his mouth as if he were also surprised by the confidence of his reply. A small pause, and he turned away, pressing his lips together.

Martin copied him, half to hide the blush that was very obviously painting his cheeks, probably clashing something awful with the pink shirt he’d had the lack of foresight to wear. “Okay,” he said carefully, pushing down on any waver to his voice.

“For this, at least,” Jon added nonchalantly, a careful smile in his voice.

“Flatterer,” Martin muttered.

He picked two of the sandwiches and carried them both back to a table, Jon trailing behind. “We’re not going back to the office?” he asked.

“No,” Martin said, with a confidence he barely felt. “I could do with a break from that place.”

Jon sank into his seat, watching Martin as he cut both sandwiches in half and split them. “It’s almost Christmas, so I went for the Christmas flavours,” he explained.

“I… I don’t celebrate Christmas,” Jon said.

Martin shrugged. “I know. Neither do I; I just enjoy British Christmas dinners.” He didn’t seem entirely convinced, and Martin hid a smile. “The other one is spiced lamb.”

“Oh,” Jon said with a much happier tone, picking up one of the sandwiches and digging in.

“So?” Martin asked once they were on their way back to the Institute.

“The Christmas one was good,” Jon admitted, only with a little reticence. “Still preferred the lamb, though.”

-

It could have been minutes or days that Martin and Tim were sat in the corridors. The walls changed sometimes, varying from one garish pattern to the next, undulating in impossible fractals. It had been giving Martin a headache, but now?

Well, he was used to it, he supposed.

Tim had his head on Martin’s lap, humming a song under his breath that seemed repetitive but forever changing. The sound bounced off the walls almost visibly, as if the waves were making the fractals warp. The horrific silhouette of the entity was still watching them, impossibly long limbs and fingers that reached like willow branches.

“Kinda wish it would do something,” Martin said.

It shook its hands and Martin snorted. 

“What?” Tim asked. Martin gestured to the silhouette. “Ah. Yes, I know what you mean.” Sitting up, he patted his hair until it was back to the artlessly dishevelled look he usually sported. “Should we go for another walk? Maybe we’ll find the exit this time.”

The laugh the entity gave grated like a spoon against a china cup, nails on a blackboard, a knife on a metal sheet. Martin clenched his jaw as it made his teeth ache. “Sure,” he said, brushing himself off as he stood up.

It didn’t seem like the entity moved, but somehow it was always in the corner of his vision whenever he scanned for it. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that whatever it was, it was dangerous, but that was the thing about fear, wasn’t it? When repetitive, it lost its hold on you. He and Tim had been here for hours or days or years, he was accustomed to it now. If it was planning on killing him, surely it would’ve happened by now.

Also at this point he would welcome death just to escape the maddening boredom.

The corridors circled, never changing angle, no slope, but somehow never doubling back on itself. The light was always different, the fractals and colours shifting and undulating maddeningly.

Hours, days? Maybe decades at this point, Martin sat. Tim joined him after tapping on a wall and a mirror. “Hey, it’s like one of those funhouse mirrors!” he exclaimed.

“Are you sure that’s not just you?” Martin said, warbling his voice mockingly. The entity was still observing them, the glint of a wide, unnaturally white smile made of sharp teeth.

“Excuse you, I am unbelievably attractive,” Tim said, dropping to the floor. He was lounging against the wall, arms crossed over his stomach, his legs comfortably settling against Martin’s.

“Urgh,” Martin grunted. “I can’t believe I have to be stuck here with you, of all people. Wish it was…” he trailed off. “Wish it was Sasha,” he continued. “Or Sasha as we thought--”

“Don’t,” Tim interrupted, all teasing vanished from his voice. “I can’t think about that here and now, okay? And we can’t…” he gestured at the entity, who chuckled. “Not in front of that thing. I know it hasn’t hurt us yet but honestly? It’s only a matter of time.”

“Okay,” Martin said.

“And at least you’re not stuck here with Elias and his--”

“Insatiable thirst for cake,” Martin continued, joining in Tim’s laugh.

“And Jon and…” his face twisted. “Whatever is going on with him.”

Martin’s mouth went dry. In all this, he’d almost managed to forget everything with Jon. He twisted the hem of his jumper. The butterflies hadn’t gone anywhere. Maybe they were worse, actually. It was a worry fueled by vanity, but he hoped that Jon wasn’t too troubled about his and Tim’s whereabouts. Tim’s, at least. He probably wouldn’t worry about Martin, after everything.

“Jon is… going through something. And he doesn’t want our help but I still want to give it to him.”

Tim sighed. “He’s a paranoid idiot.”

They would probably die in these corridors. Maybe that was okay. “I’m in love with him,” he admitted, burying his face in his hands.

Tim let out a short laugh. “Oh. Oh no. I thought it was just a crush?”

“It was but then…” Something changed? Jon changed? “It’s not just that anymore.”

“Oh, Martin, that’s so stupid!”

“Loving someone isn’t stupid.”

“Hmm. I beg to differ when the person you love is Jonathan Sims.”

Martin pulled away, bringing his knees to his chest, and Tim smiled apologetically. “Martin, you can do so much better than him. He’s not a good person, right?”

Martin didn’t reply. He knew well enough that it wasn’t true. Jon was a good person. Good to a fault, utterly ridiculously good. 

Tim sighed. “I know, you can’t choose love, it chooses you,” he said, air quoting until Martin slapped his hands down. He shrugged. “I thought I was in love with Sasha, but…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Tim interjected. “How about when we get out of this, we go for a drink? Just us. Away from all the madness which is Jon and Elias and… and Sasha, or whatever that thing--”

“Okay,” Martin interrupted, patting the part of him that he could reach which, currently, was his ankle. “We should do that.”

The entity cackled again, and Martin almost hit his head on the wall. “I wish that thing would stop being so annoying,” he projected, eyeing it meaningfully.

“Who knew! These terrifying fear entities are actually just badly done horror movie creatures,” Tim interjected. “How long are you keeping us?”

“Not much longer,” it replied, and Martin almost kicked Tim in the chest in shock. “You’ll want to be present. When the Archivist brings all to a close. It’ll be fun.”

It prickled in the back of Martin’s mind, and he let out a ‘huh’. “That’s basically what Jane Prentiss said to Jon,” he said to Tim.

Tim shuddered. “We’re in a relatively clean place here, Martin. Please don’t remind me of the worms.”

“I wonder…” he trailed off, before standing up again. A door had appeared, or revealed itself to have always been there. The entity backed away, gesturing to the door with another glint of a grin. Sharp teeth, impossibly wide mouth. Before long it was shrouded in darkness, and the white of its teeth and shining eyes were all that were visible. Martin shuddered.

“God,” Tim said. “I swear, that’s nightmare material for at least a month. Maybe two.”

“I wonder what we’re coming back to,” Martin mused.

-

“You look tired.”

Jon jumped what looked like half a foot out of his skin, spinning round and only relaxing a little when he saw Martin. “I don’t think I’ve been well-rested a day in my life, Martin.”

“That’s not an excuse to stop trying.”

Jon gave a wry smile, putting his head to one side when Martin placed the mug of tea he’d been carrying on the desk. “Thank you, Martin. And regardless, you’re the one who almost gave me a heart attack and I don’t see you apologising for that.”

“I’m...I’m sorry; I thought you’d heard me?”

Jon smiled again. “It’s fine,” he said. “How...how have you been?”

The question almost made Martin drop his own mug of tea. Jon had said it so carefully, like he was physically forcing himself to, but he still asked it, still looked at Martin expectedly as if he was actually interested in the answer. “O-oh! I… I’m okay?”

Jon waited for a moment. “The...the statements, are they bothering you as much as before?”

“I took your advice,” Martin replied. “The others are taking some on. Though I don’t know how long that will last.”

“They’ll continue,” Jon said, glum as he stared into his tea. “I wish no-one would, but…” he met Martin’s eyes again.

“You should take a break,” Martin continued. “We could go down to that sandwich place?”

Jon kept his gaze for a moment, much too short, much too obvious about what his answer would be. “I can’t,” he admitted, resigned, and holding up a statement. “This one needs to be digitised pretty...pretty urgently, I think. I know.” He placed it back on the desk, reaching for a tape recorder and brushing some cobwebs off it. “How…? I swear I only put that down a minute ago, how did the spiders get to it so quickly?”

“I could bring lunch back for you?”

Too desperate. Too obvious that he was worrying, that he wanted to take care of Jon. Too obvious that he lo--

“It’s okay, Martin. But thank you.”

His voice was painfully sincere, digging deep into Martin’s core with an intensity that made him blush. Thank… whoever was listening that Jon had turned back to the statement, placing the recorder close and starting the statement. Martin tried not to be too alarmed that he hadn’t even needed to press record.

-

The clock was infuriating.

Martin was sure it ticked slower now, when waiting by Jon’s motionless form. At least it was better than the incessant beating of the heart monitor for normal patients, just waiting to fade to that slow beep of the flat line. But this, the tick, tick, tick. Martin found himself timing his breaths to it, timing the tap of his foot, even his heart he was sure, was beating to that aggravating tick.

“I can’t wait till you’re out of this place,” Martin grumbled. “You couldn’t hurry it up, could you?” The joke was weak, punctuated with a gentle touch to the back of Jon’s hand. 

He pulled it away in a rush, feeling like he wasn’t allowed anything so tender. Especially now that Jon was here and unresponsive and Tim was…

He found it difficult to finish that thought. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to acknowledge. And all that time, when Jon had been fighting his way through an apocalyptical scenario and Tim was… he’d been in the archives, fine and safe.

Fine because… Elias hadn’t told him anything he hadn’t suspected already. Of course his mother resented being taken care of, of course Jon wouldn’t care about his feelings.

“Come back, Jon,” he asked. 

He didn’t know how long he’d have to wait, but he’d wait. He’d be here for Jon when he woke.

-

Jon was calling him.

Martin stared in part horror, part wonder at the name on his phone, the blank anonymous picture because there was no way he would ever have a photo of Jon on his phone, not now, not ever. But regardless. It was midnight, and Jon was calling him.

He waited until the phone went dead, and the notification popped up. No message left. Maybe it had been a mistake; it wasn’t the first time he’d been butt-dialed. Maybe he would have ended up as the unwilling participant of an embarrassing conversation.

But then it started again.

Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he’d tried calling everyone else, and no one had picked up. It could be any number of reasons. It had only been a month since he woke from the coma, and even if he was doing weirdly, preternaturally well, it didn’t mean that things didn’t go badly sometimes.

It rang out again, and Martin watched it for a few more minutes, warring with every part of himself.

Sentiment won, which he was sure he would regret the moment morning came, and he reached for the phone, unable to tear his eyes from the familiar letters that spelled Jon’s name.

Jon picked up within the first ring.

“Hi,” he said. Martin paused. “Are you there?”

“Yes? Why did you call me?”

There must have been… something in his voice, because Jon’s breath audibly caught in his throat. Something distant maybe. Hopefully.

“I just…” Martin waited, but he didn’t continue.

“Jon, if it’s not an emergency, you shouldn’t call. Especially at this time.”

“You can’t have been that worried that it was an emergency,” Jon snipped. Martin almost laughed out loud at his sudden annoyance. He could picture exactly how Jon looked right now, ruffled from lack of sleep and an angry furrow between his dark brows, hair spilling over his shoulders. He’d always been beautiful--Tim’s amusement at Martin’s confession aside--but these days…

Maybe it was the lack of time spent with other people. Everyone looked more beautiful to him these days.

“Sorry,” Jon said after another moment of silence. “I shouldn’t have snapped there.”

“Tired?” Martin asked.

“Yes.”

“You know what you have to do if you’re tired, right?”

Another sigh. He was probably twisting a strand of hair around his finger, now. He’d picked up that habit pretty soon after it grew out. “Not just that. I miss you.”

The butterflies would probably never die, at this point. Not until he did. “You said,” he replied carefully, flat, emotionless. Everything he wished he could be. Something that could ignore the voice telling him to say it back, to finally admit what they both knew but had never had a chance to say.

It would be so easy, if only for...

The reason. The reason that he was staying so far away. He rubbed his forehead. “Don’t call me, Jon.”

“Your voicemail message.”

“What about it?”

“I didn’t expect you to answer. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Another beat of silence. “Hang up, Jon,” he tried to command, hating himself all the more when it came out wistful.

“I’m here if you need me, okay?” Jon answered, hanging up the moment he was done.

Too bad, really. Hilariously inconvenient. The kind of dramatic irony that was only usually seen on crappy US sitcoms. There was no uncertainty in Martin’s mind; Jon had fallen for him the moment Martin had lost all hope, with no chance of regaining. Martin sat on his bed, and laughed until he cried.

-

See, the safehouse didn't start safe. To start, it was all cobwebs and scuttling legs and an insistent pull to the farmer they had passed who Jon knew had quite the story to tell. Something about the endless pit at the corner of his field of cows. He'd already lost so many of them in that gaping maw. Jon was digging his nails deep into the palms of his hands, wishing that Martin would take them but recalling how Martin flinched away from touch now.

Time. They all need time, right? Maybe a therapist, though how much they could communicate Jon had no idea.

He shook his head, repeated, "No, no, no," over and over. It was all...dark and webby. Jon could see eyes peering at him through one of the paintings on the walls. Martin gave him a blank look, the barest hint of concern hiding in the set of his mouth. He asked what Jon needed. Although Jon had the desperate thought, 'You, only you,' run through his head he didn't voice it. "A broom. Light. And to get that painting out of there."

"Wait here," Martin said. 'Don't go,' Jon thought.

Would he ever get to a point where this was all okay? Where it was a distant memory? Where he and Martin would grow old together? He had no gods to pray to, not anymore, but something in him still sent up a desperate little prayer.

Martin emerged with two brooms and the painting carefully covered up with his sweatshirt. There were goosebumps on his arms. He set the painting aside, handed Jon a broom, and carefully didn't look him in the eye.

He was fading at the edges. The pull of the lonely was still so strong, Jon could almost see the thin cords wrapped around his body, slowly but surely dragging him into the pit. Their nearest neighbours were 3 miles away, the nearest town a further 2 miles. The only living creatures near were four cows curiously watching them.

"Martin?" Jon asked. He brushed gentle fingers over the back of Martin's hand. God, he needed touch. He needed to feel Martin against him, needed to be held so tight he couldn't breathe.

Martin flinched away, but gave Jon a brittle smile. "Let's get rid of the cobwebs," he said, achingly gentle.

Jon gripped the broom tighter. "Yes."

The dust fell into his hair and against his face and clothes, making him sneeze with a frequency that alarmed Martin. He was banished to the garden within a few minutes as Martin continued, though Jon carefully listened, watched the movement inside the cabin as he worked his way around the rooms. Maybe this place wasn’t the best for someone so recently escaped from the clutches of the lonely, but where else?

“Where else can we go, we orphans of the storm?” he asked himself, sighing heavily and propping his chin on his knee.

“What?” Martin asked behind him.

Jon plastered a marginally more cheery look on his face, looking over his shoulder at Martin. He joined him on the wooden steps that led down to the small patch of grass which functioned as the cabin’s garden. Careful distance, as if he couldn’t bear to touch Jon.

“It’s nothing.” He turned away from Martin, watching a kite make regular circling turns, diving into undergrowth. The colours painted against the sky were a work of art, all reds and golds. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

Martin didn’t respond other than with a nod. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, it was just… allergies. Too much dust.”

“Right, I should--”

“Stay?” He didn’t mean it to come out quite so plaintive, quite so much laying his heart out with directions on how best to shatter it. If Martin left now, even just to sit inside, something would break. “Please,” he continued. He might as well beg, at this point.

Martin looked down at his hands where they were resting against his thighs. He was thinking...Jon’s breath caught in his throat. He was thinking about being in the hospital, watching Jon with no hope that he would ever wake up. How he felt like he was stealing something he had no right to when he touched Jon’s hand.

Jon reached out his hand, stopping halfway between them. This wasn’t… it, by any means. Martin needed time, maybe he just wasn’t ready to lay out his feelings. But he wanted to hold Jon’s hand, wanted...more. He paused for a long moment, before finally reaching, curling his fingers into the spaces left by Jon’s.

“Martin?” he asked. 

Martin’s lips quirked at the sound. Not enough to be a smile, but not fake, either. “Jon?”

Jon edged closer by way of response, slowly resting his head on Martin’s shoulder, waiting for Martin to push him away. It took a while, at least, a while of tracing the lines on Martin’s palms and the branches of his veins on his wrists. A while of Martin remaining utterly still, as if this was borrowed time, and any movement might jolt him out of the reverie. A while until he relaxed the same as Jon.

Romantic, really. The stained clouds, the vast expanse of space, the slowly moving animals. In any other case, feeling like they were the only two people in existence would be good. Like some distant honeymoon, but this was far from a honeymoon. Jon may have pulled Martin from the lonely, may have bared his heart but Martin hadn’t responded. He had loved him. Maybe that was the important part. In the past, before fog and loneliness had stripped all warmth.

It was only then that Jon noticed just how cold Martin’s hand was.

He was staring in the distance, brown eyes dulled to grey, the lines of his body faded and wispy as if there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to find purchase on. “Martin,” he insistently cried, cupping his cheek, drawing him closer. “Martin, look at me.”

He obeyed, but sluggishly, as if Jon’s words were coming across a vast expanse, a valley or ocean. “Jon?” he echoed quietly.

“I’m here, I’m here. Don’t… don’t look away, okay? I’m here.” A gentle squeeze to his hand, though Jon felt like he might pass through. Martin took a deep breath, slowly reached up to twist a strand of Jon’s hair around a finger. “I never responded.”

A beat of silence. Jon traced a thumb across Martin’s cheekbone. “Responded to what?”

“I love you.”

Furrowing his brow. “That’s not right,” Martin said, quietly enough that Jon could almost expect that he didn’t think he would hear. How far was he, to Martin’s eyes?

“I love you,” he repeated, edging closer. “Don’t look away.”

A derisive smile. “That’s… no. I love you, not the other way around.”

The tense line of Jon’s shoulders suddenly relaxed, so sudden that he almost collapsed forwards. It would be a vain hope that Martin would catch him now, when he was so far away.

“Martin,” he called out again, waiting until Martin was looking at him. “I love you. I’ve loved you for...for much too long to only be telling you now.”

He blinked, the grey fog, filmy over his eyes, started to disperse. There was still...something. Some scar that probably wouldn’t heal for a long time, if ever. But colour was coming back to his cheeks, his dark hair and eyes starting to shine and reflect the red sunset again. His hand was suddenly firmly there, clasped tight between Jon’s fingers.

“You love me.” Not a question, but Jon still nodded.

“I love you,” he agreed. “How many times do you want me to say it?”

“I… A couple more times would be nice.”

Jon smiled, far from missing the way Martin shifted his weight closer. “Okay. Let me count the ways,” he recited, only a small lilt of teasing to his tone. “Your resourcefulness,” he started, bringing his hand up to kiss the knuckles. Martin froze, watching him with wide eyes. “Your kindness.” A kiss on his neck. “Your bravery.” His forehead, after a small struggle to get Martin to lean down so he could reach. Martin was laughing at his display by that point. “Your devotion.” Finally, reaching slowly, enough that he could pull away if he wanted. It had been a long time since Jon had kissed anyone, but regardless this all felt new. Even Georgie hadn’t been love, not really, but the young adult’s approximation of what love might be at some point in the future. 

It only took a few flurried beatings of his heart before Martin kissed back, hands buried in his hair to keep him close. Only a few more slowly calming beats before he deepened the kiss, and Jon let him take the lead, pressing him against the bannister behind him. “That took way too long to happen,” he complained once Martin had pulled away, contenting himself with pressing kisses against his face.

“You were my boss, Jon. It would have been way too weird.”

“Honestly? I had no real power. I was just a glorified assistant.”

Martin laughed against Jon’s shoulder. “We knew. We all knew.”

Jon sighed, shifting around until he was more comfortably propped against Martin’s side. Best to watch the sunset for now, and how it played against Martin’s eyes. “We’ll be okay,” he promised. “We’ll get through this, we’ll…”

“We’ll be okay,” Martin repeated.

[peach-jaehyunie]

Everybody Hurts

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader, Jaehyun x OC

Genre: Polyamory, friends with benefits, angst, one-shot

Warnings: swearing, sexual situations, unhealthy friendship

Rating: 18+

Words: 3,490

Jaehyun is just a FWB, or that's what you tell yourself. Seeing other people is okay; you wanted to be uncommitted...right? When Jaehyun hooks up with someone you're close to bad memories gradually resurface.

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this one...just needed to get some angst off my chest.

Friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. Keeping it casual. Amid a busy work schedule, a desire to be uncommitted until you were sure, and a burgeoning sex drive your love life consisted of booty calls. There were only about 3 regulars: people you went out with, spent time with, and, yes, at the end (or sometimes the beginning) of the night had sex with. Spending the night was optional but comfortable. None of them knew each other, but they knew of the other’s existence.

You kissed Maria goodbye, explaining that you couldn’t stay long because you needed to go home to be with your roommate who was going through a bad break up. On the way home, you went to a bakery and bought some sweets to take to Lara, as well as ordering her favourite meal to be delivered to your shared apartment.

Lara hadn’t texted you, but she should have been home from work by now you thought as you climbed the stairs to the 4th floor. You heard music playing as you unlocked the door and walked into your home—looking up to catch Jaehyun’s eyes as he was balls deep inside your roommate.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You quickly blurted out, feeling your face heat up uncomfortably, as you ducked out the door. Lara’s eyes never leaving you in your retreat.

You swallowed, trying to process what you had just seen.

“Food delivery,” a young woman called, waking you from your stupor outside your door.

“Thank you,” you said to her as she left.

You sat the food down, and the little confectionary box on top of it all outside the door. You could hear Lara and Jaehyun fucking. In a few minutes you were sitting in a deserted café, the barista was taking your order. You sat facing the window that overlooked the entrance of your apartment complex. It was your day off: you felt sore from rock climbing with Maria, you felt hungry thinking that you probably need that cake more than Lara right about now, but most of all you felt very shitty. Sure, you knew Jaehyun slept with other people, just as you did! But that had never, under any circumstance, prepared you for the day you would walk in on him shagging your roommate. Lara was also, technically, your best friend. You considered that she and Jaehyun have had sex on your couch, but you and Jaehyun never had. It was all okay though because it was just three consenting adults living their life how they please. No harm was done, no one was hurt (well, you were, but that would mean exploring feelings and circumstances you were unsure of). He did nothing wrong. The minutes seemed like hours as you waited for him to leave your house. After an hour you were worried that he might have decided to spend the night. You got up and paid for drinks, relieved to see Jaehyun exiting your apartment building when you next looked out the window. You hoped to find Lara in her room when you got home.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said to you as you walked in.

You internally grimaced seeing her sitting on the sofa—clothed now— drinking a steaming cup of tea. You forced yourself to smile at her.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” You decided to pretend that you didn’t walk in on anything earlier and you were just coming home to console her as originally planned.

“I’m...” a slow smile broke on her face “Actually feeling pretty good.”

Lara patted the seat next to her, and you sat down offering her a hug: she smelled like coconut shampoo and Jaehyun’s cologne. Was it selfish that you just wanted to be in your room right now?

“Oh! I have something for you,” she twisted around to grab an envelope off the coffee table. “Jaehyun dropped by to see you and give you this.”

You opened the envelope: two tickets to the theatre and a little note that read—

Happy early birthday! I know you wanted to see this and it premieres right before your birthday. There are two tickets, I hope you choose me as your date but it’s okay if you don’t.

-Jaehyun

He had signed a messy heart next to his name. You carefully returned the tickets and the note to the envelope.

“It’s a pair of tickets to a play for my birthday.” You told Lara in monotone.

“That’s so sweet! Y/N, when Jaehyun came over to see you, I was such a mess. I felt so bad that I was crying all over him, but I just couldn’t help it. He was so sweet though, and he really comforted me, it was so nice.”

Lara smiled and squeezed your hands. She hesitated before she went on, but she must have been encouraged by the fake smile you gave her.

“Agh, okay, I’m just gonna talk about it! I feel so much better after sleeping with him! I feel like I should maybe just see people casually like you guys do for a while. Just to get back out there, you know?”

No, you didn’t know. You didn’t have multiple relationships to try and break into the dating scene. To your chagrin, Lara began to talk about the sex. She told you all about how it happened (she had kissed him first, and how Jaehyun had been reluctant at first because she was going through a break up), and little things that he had done that her other lovers had never. You felt as if she spoke to you like you hadn’t had sex with Jaehyun multiple times a month for the past year and a half.

“That’s so wonderful, I’m glad you feel so much better. I’m always here if you’re not okay and just want to talk, okay?” You say to her as you part ways in the hallway to your separate rooms. Lies.

Your stomach hurts, maybe from not eating, maybe from feeling stepped on and looked over. You lay in bed, licking your proverbial wounds. “When Jaehyun came over to see you” Yeah, he came over to see me—not you, bitch.

Your stomach churned when you thought of a month ago when you had gotten drunk and told Lara how Jaehyun made you feel. You had told her that he was your favourite—not just in bed, but all around as a person he made you feel happy. You had said that you wanted to still see other people, but you always wanted to see Jaehyun most. She had asked if you loved him. “Of course” had been your reply. But it was not the same type of love that one is accustomed to reading in any two-lovers story. You were not two lovers, you were a myriad of lovers. Each one different, each one bringing something special to the table.

_________________________________

<<Thanks so much, let’s go together!>>

You texted Jaehyun when he asked if you had gotten the envelope. Lara walked around the apartment humming, checking her hair and slipping into her coat.

“You look really nice, where are you headed off to?” You ask her from the kitchen.

“I’m going over to Jaehyun’s, I didn’t want us to keep you up!” She laughed as if she had just been told a very funny joke and shut the front door behind her.

Was it because she was your roommate? Was it because she was your best friend? Why did you hate it so much that Jaehyun was sleeping with Lara. You thought of the model that Jaehyun sometimes saw—you had never met her, but you had seen her pictures in magazines; why didn’t you feel sad about her?

A few days later when you and Lara were watching movies and snacking you realized one reason why:

“Do you think...Jaehyun would ever commit to someone, like do you know if he exclusively dates?” She posed the question to you.

“He has in the past, so I don’t see why not.” You hear yourself say.

You were nothing more than a FWB, you knew that. Someday he was bound to move on with somebody else who was more ready to commit to a socially standard relationship than you.

On Thursday you and Jaehyun met for your usual lunch near work. It was the first time you had seen him since last week.

“Okay, so should we go out to dinner before or after the play on Saturday?”

“After will be kind of late, don’t you think?” You scowled for a second, “Actually, let’s skip dinner, you’re probably busy and I don’t want to take up your whole evening.”

“I’m not busy,” Jaehyun looks across the table at you.

You’re acting weird, and when he tries to put his hand on your knee below the table you pull away saying that the waiter is watching. You feel awful and sad for pushing him away because he did nothing wrong! That’s what you tell yourself every day: they did nothing wrong, but you’re wrong for being upset about it.

——————————————————

“You look really nice.” Jaehyun leans over to kiss you as you settle into the passenger seat. You turn your head at the last second and his lips connect with your cheek. If he is disappointed he hides it well.

“Thank you for this again, I’m really happy I get to see it.” You smile over at him, it feels like an apology and leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

It feels like a date...but it also doesn’t. The two of you have been on dates before and the atmosphere you have created is different. You hold him at a distance; a separation that had never been even when you first met. You and Jaehyun chat comfortably about the play and about your days during intermission, but you feel tension between the two of you.

“Did you like the ending?” You walk a step behind him, navigating your way down the icy steps into the parking garage.

“Yes, but they never said all that they felt. If they had communicated more they could have maybe saved themselves from some of the pain and arguing.” Jaehyun doesn’t say this quickly, he considers his words. You wonder if he’s just talking about the play.

“Not everyone communicates really well with everyone else; neither of them could really talk to the other honestly or in an environment where they actually felt like they were speaking and being heard.” You counter it’s sometimes too easy to see the flaws in another relationship and criticize it. The car unlocks, and with a press of a button from 15 steps away Jaehyun has it running.

“I’m hungry, are you sure you don’t want to go out to eat somewhere?” He looks over at you while putting on his seatbelt. “Or we could just go to my place and order food,”

“Um...” you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for an answer. “Let’s just,” you can’t go home with him; you knew Lara had been there many times now. “Go out and eat.”

Jaehyun nodded his head, “What do you have in mind?”

“Oh anything,” you shrugged.

“It’s your birthday present, you can choose anything you want.” He persists. You name the first thing that comes to mind for food, eager for this night to be over but also resenting that you’re not spending more time with him.

“Wait,” Jaehyun stops you as go to open the car door when he pulls up outside your building.

“What?” You turn your head and his lips meet yours. It lasts a few seconds, lips moving against one another and familiar heat builds in your body. You pull away from him, staring out the windshield: lost.

Jaehyun clears his throat, “What changed? What did I do?” He looks over at your profile.

“Lara’s my best friend,” you start, licking your lips and trying to come up with any plausible explanation. “And my roommate. And, ultimately, as much as I love her I don't wish to include her in my sex life.” Yeah, that was kinda part of the reason. What were you going to say; that it made you feel shitty?

“That’s it?” Jaehyun finally says.

“Yeah,” That’s it.

“Do you want me to not see her anymore?” He’s not looking at you anymore.

“No!” Yes. You fake a smile, “I want you and Lara and you and whoever to have a great time. But for me, Lara is a little too close to home. It makes me uncomfortable, so I’m removing myself from the equation.” You wave your hand as if the whole situation is really nothing to you. As if it hadn’t made you lose sleep.

“So you’re not asking me to choose between the two of you?”

“No!” You insist, he sounded annoyed when he just spoke.

“I don’t get how this is different from when it’s other people: I sleep with other people and you sleep with other people, and it’s never been a problem.” He says, suddenly sounding defensive.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not exactly passing myself out among your friends. I already told you it makes me uncomfortable, so I think I can choose not to fuck someone who’s fucking my best friend.” You jerk the car door open, nearly falling out as your foot missed the curb.

“So you are saying ‘choose between us’!” Jaehyun calls after you, opening his door as you slam yours.

“It’s just sex, Jaehyun!” You tell him shrilly. He stands by the driver's side door, watching as you try and hold it together on the small sidewalk. “You can get it anywhere and from anyone, and I just don’t want to anymore with you!” If you say another word tears will come.

“Nights like tonight? They were never ‘just sex’. Hanging out and talking was never about just sex. Our weekly lunches were never about sex at all! It was about us enjoying each other’s company, and finding each other attractive.” Jaehyun scuffs his shoes against the pavement, shaking his head and looking away from you for a moment before speaking again: “Or was that not how you saw it? If I stop—“

“No!” A coldness rises in your stomach, and your eyes burn as they become blurry with tears. “I don’t know what I want, but I know that Lara and I aren’t sleeping with the same guy again.” You sob, turning away and hurrying into your building.

In the elevator, you give over to the tears of humiliation, anger, but mostly self-pity. FWBs don’t ask you to stop hooking up with other FWBs—or at least not any that you know of. Cut the ties before you really get hurt. They’re not wrong, you’re just too attached. That’s what you remind yourself. That’s why Jaehyun was getting upset, you tried to reason.

“What happened?l Lara quickly says when you walk through the door with tears streaming down your face. It all felt like a bad movie, except it was your life.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong—“ Lara quickly got up off the couch to try and console you. No matter your rush she reaches you before you can slam your bedroom door behind yourself.

“Don’t touch me!” You cry, pushing her hands away “Learn to be unhappy for five minutes like the rest of us, you selfish bitch.”

As soon as you are alone in your room you sink to the floor, sobbing. They don’t ever choose you. At first, it was Minho in high school: he had been your crush over a year...and then Lara had slept with him. But you couldn’t blame that on Lara; Minho just didn’t like you that way. Or when you, Lara, and your at-the-time boyfriend, Peter, had all been living together and after about 5 months Lara came sobbing to you one night because she felt guilty about having been carrying on an affair with Peter for the last 2. But you couldn’t blame that on Lara: Peter had been a shitty boyfriend and preyed upon Lara’s emotional vulnerability at the time. Did you believe that? Or did you think that she might have thrown herself at them because she was feeling sorry for herself. Where her actions self-pity for the sake of self-pity, or sabotages of your happiness disguised as self-pity.

You laid on your bed, curling up plagued with painful memories of the past. Why did you sweep it under the rug every time? Maybe it was because Lara cried more, and begged for forgiveness while saying she felt so guilty and scared about losing you as a friend. No one else treated her with enough kindness, but she told you that you did. Maybe it was because she knew your every secret, and every misdeed and always accepted each one with open and loving arms.

“It’s not fair,” you mutter to yourself, straggling tears running down your face. Lara’s pain was always treated as more painful. When she was hurt, somehow you would always get hurt too. She couldn’t be alone or unloved, but if you felt that way it was okay as long as someone was with Lara and she was loved and given attention. It felt twisted, but losing Lara felt like losing part of yourself. You would apologize for calling her a ‘selfish bitch’ and she would cry telling you how much you hurt her.

...And once again, your feelings would be kept to yourself because maybe if you told Lara how she made you feel you would hurt her. That was the crazy thing, even your feelings would be made about her.

—————————————————

You love your days and nights with Maria and Junha, but it’s not the same without Jaehyun. You miss him: the lunch dates, the regular dates, talking about shared interests.

Lara decides the casual sex isn’t for her soon after you tell her that you’re not seeing Jaehyun anymore. The convenient timing of this admission leaves you bitter. At least she could have made your pain and inner turmoil worthwhile and seen him for a few more weeks. It’s a bad circus trick, and you’re the sad clown that nobody likes, or wants to look at. You spend your days trying to make up for saying hurtful things to Lara. She says she’s sorry and didn’t mean to hurt your friendship or relationship with Jaehyun. You’re not sure whether or not to believe her anymore. You want boundaries in your friendship. The unhealthiness of the relationship between you and Lara was gradually eating away at you.

——————————————————-

It’s a Tuesday in March when you’re sitting in a familiar restaurant eating a familiar lunch. Your phone dings: a text from Lara of photos of her dinner last night with a friend from work.

“Is this seat taken?” A familiar voice asks.

Jaehyun gestures to the chair across from you, his expression soft and hopeful.

“No—it’s not taken.” The moments before you spoke you felt as if you hadn’t breathed. Your lungs welcome air after the shock of seeing him again—it shouldn’t be a shock; this was a familiar place for both of you. He had sat in that chair at this table, across from you before.

The waiter brings a side dish that you ordered.

“Will you be having anything?” They ask Jaehyun. Jaehyun’s eyes search for yours, and you give him an almost imperceptible nod of your head. Jaehyun waits for you to finish eating before he speaks; you can’t avoid his questions by chewing. Not that you want to avoid them, but sometimes you weren’t sure how you felt anymore.

“How have you been?” He’s slightly tense, which is a rarity.

“Very well, and you?” Very formal, and colder than you had meant to be.

“Fine,” there’s an awkward silence. You can tell he wants to say something, but he distracts himself with eating for a moment. He looks as if he has decided to speak again, but changes his mind at the last minute.

“I, um...l—“ Jaehyun mumbles something into his bowl.

“What?” The word falls lightly from your lips, not wanting to mishear him.

“I chose you.” He looks across at you. A frown forms by habit on his face and he must realize because he quickly changed his expression to something more stoic.

He must be waiting for you to speak, but you don’t. You don’t know what you feel, you don’t know how much is okay to feel. No one had ever chosen you; what happened now? Did you choose him back?

“I wanted you to ask me to choose you; I wanted you to say you wanted me, too. I called Lara up the day after and told her that she and I couldn’t see each other again.”

“You broke it off with Lara?” You’re a bit stunned, had she lied about that?

“I still choose you.”

[igobythenameheisenger]

The Platform, personal film review Skip or Stream? Stream!! 8.5/10 This film’s premiere on Netflix perfectly coincides with the time it’s more relevant— these months going on with the pandemic. Prescript— It’s not some film you can watch with snacks on. At least I lost my appetite. The Platform is a sci-fi/thriller concept/metaphor film (like parasite but as open as Darren Aronofsky’s Mother! when it comes to story telling, it goes beyond imagination to get the message across). Only this time, it’s satirized. It’s about the separation of classes, the rampant inequality of our modern life. Through its metaphors, the film introduces the floors as people’s classes. A tray of food is provided for all but it comes from the top, all the way down where of course, the masses at the late bottom of the building has no more food left because people on the upper floors consumed every bit of it. What they’re only left with is each other and hunger, which ultimately leads to violence. What’s interesting here is how the film tells us that there is more than enough food (say money, land, rights) to go around down to the lower floors, but overconsumption easily rules people when they know everything has a deadline (monthly switching of random floors). The pace was not as speedy as Uncut Gems but it took all the time it needed to get the feelings right in your skin. I just panted a bit on the change of mood it brought me though— humor, disgust, terror, relief (sometimes?), and back to terror, and most especially, hopelessness. The finale was left open. Even when it was conclusive that they somehow succeeded— it didn’t really show what actually happened. I think ultimately because in reality, we aren’t there yet. They didn’t show how because there was nothing to show. But what I got about the child being the message was because, people (even the admins) didn’t believe there could possibly be a 16 y.o. below anywhere in the platform - esp someone that was alive and well-fed in the bottom most floor. That it was even possible for that kid to be alive (and innocent and uncorrupt) amidst all the chaos and everybody believing they need violence to survive. And what they did with the child wasn’t shown in the ending, because that’s what we’re supposed to really solve. The film embodies the current class differences and if there was a solution to this, we would’ve figured it out already. But there’s not (hence not shown). And up to date, we’re still jammed (with the pandemic coming into picture, the hoarding, the VIP testings— this is apropos now more than ever). The ending was put there not for us to understand or interpret, but so WE could actually think of a solution, so we could search for that little girl in this cruel society, and only then we would be able to satisfy the closing of the film. It wasn’t a closing with meaning, it was blank “how” we needed to answer ourselves.
Deep diving to the story— you can skip this if you’re not in for SPOILERS. The protagonist, Goreng volunteered to be imprisoned inside a vertical tower with 333 floors (it’s not easy to imagine since it’s architecturally impossible in the real world), where the only source of food is coming from a platform— some sort of block of cement coming from floor 0 down to floor 333 (funny how x2 per pax is 666). The platform is packed with delicious cuisine (which were specifically favorites of the people who came/brought in as prisoners— yes, I said came in because there were actually volunteers that wanted in so they could get something in return, like a diploma). Once a day it lowers through the layers of the tower allowing the inmates of each floor (2 pax each level) to get their fill. You get the point— those at the top get to stuff their cheeks with as much food as they can, and those at the bottom left with shattered glasses and empty bowls and plates. But the interesting thing here is, every month, the inmates are drugged and taken to a new floor, randomly picked. First month you could be starving at the bottom, and the next month— who knows, you could be the ones stepping on freshly baked cakes— worst is if you belong to 100+ floors down, where there’s absolutely no food left. So with each floor having 2 inmates and nothing to eat, what do we make of that? It’s a complete transparency of the current situation (I’d say in our country but it’s all over the world ESP today)— those at the top has nothing to worry about, while the bottom tenants eat each other alive. And the fact that everything has a deadline forcing each individual to take as much as they can, while it’s there. Sounds familiar? (Toilet paper, masks, alcohol, ring any bells?) Eventually, Goreng, being an idealist, wanted to destroy the way the system works by giving everyone only the part of the food they need. It was revealed by one of his floormates that the food was actually enough for all floors even when it doesn’t seem like it. And that’s only because people at the top couldn’t stop their greed about consuming so much more than they need, leaving people below starving and violent. Baharat, his floormate is also an idealist and wanted to climb to top most floor by asking the tenants above them to grab his rope. It gets complicated when they even started asking him a lot of things including who his God is (religion conflicts) and said they’d help him and instead, shits on his face when he tries to climb. Realizing they don’t have a chance at the people above, Goreng and Baharat decided they could work together into Goreng’s original goal, feeding everyone fairly by getting into the platform (with very good intentions) as it descends each floor. They were also planning to go up with it to send a message, like a rebellion as it ascends every after it reaches all the floors. This starts off okay but ultimately becomes gore when they start to see floors where people have already engaged in murder and cannibalism for survival’s sake. This stains their innocence and leads them to kill other tenants off for survival as well. There’s this one character— mother, who was seemingly looking for her lost boy by going down the platform every once in a while, but dies in the latter part of the film. The child however, who turns out to be a girl btw, meets Goreng in the end, at the 333rd floor. It’s unclear how and why the child is down there esp when one of the tenants specifically said they weren’t letting 16 years old and under in the facility. It seems that the mother’s repeated descent on the platform wasn’t an attempt to find her child, but to ensure the food reached the bottom floor to feed and protect her child by keeping her there. When they realized she was the one they should send up as a clear message (not sure about this but I think is— she’s the message that there doesn’t have to be violence? Because she was pure? Unharmed, innocent, and even healthy, despite being at the last floor. And something that nobody believes is possible— both the fact that there’s a child in a facility and that her being there without violence to survive, that’s why she was the right message?) like in real life? She was the symbol that we don’t all have to be like this to each other to survive, I wasn’t sure if they were talking about hope but I think (and hope) so? And it was also then I realized, it’s on us to understand and figure out how to get her? How to get “the message” across and change the system? Hence, why it was open ended and what happened wasn’t shown at the end, because there was no really knowing what happened to something that isn’t happening yet— irl. It was the shoe’s way of shoeing its audience that hey, this is possible if only we all cooperate. There doesn’t have to be violence and dead bodies, if we learn to give we can beat the system. And not showing how the system took her in the end is a hint that we haven’t gotten there yet, and that’s for us to figure out. Also my take on the mother was pretty much how I see it in Mother! movie— she was really mother earth preserving hope. And with people’s greed and selfishness, she was eventually murdered brutally. And in our case, she is being treated that way now, sadly. We’re all almost like Goreng, who finds out how the system works and tries to fight it but is being hopelessly corrupted in the process. Those at the top never even consider giving up excesses and just know how to take and take as much, and the bottom masses are too busy surviving to even consider reason— no matter what that meant. If this isn’t the greatest interpretation of how the world works, I don’t know what is.

[whyamiinopmhellagain]

The Wrath of the Dragons

Metal Bat Reader Insert

**Trigger Warning, Major Character Death, Skippable Brief Torture Scene, Grieving**

This is for my friend, @opmheadcanons​. This gets heavy, I hope you like it. And thanks to @fatherwhump​ for letting me dump samples on you.

I also want to put out there. If anyone else is struggling, please, reach out and let me write an insert for you. Writing is a way for me to deal with my inner demons, and allowing me to project my struggles onto yours, and sympathize helps me cope. Please, do not hesitate to ask!

Their heart is pounding as they watch a pick-up truck collapse onto the civilians below it. All of the ability to give warning and spread information is now destroyed, so nobody knows where they are supposed to go, or what they’re supposed to do. It doesn’t matter anymore. Giant, scaly beasts were storming the city, knocking over buildings with their talons as if they are toddlers enjoying the terror they caused, knowing there is much glory to gain.

They keep running, even though their legs are slowly turning into jelly, and their vision is beginning to blur. Suddenly, someone grabs them by the waist. They wanted to squirm out of their grasp, but their legs had already been overworked. The second they get comfortable with their fate of being captured, they feel their capture push their head up so they both could lock lips. It was bruising, and rough, but it was passionate and familiar.

“Sorry to do this to you, sugar.”  He looks them dead in the eyes. “But, I wanted a chance to say goodbye, in case I don’t make it out of the shit show.” 

“You will.” They force themselves to say. “I love you, Badd.” 

“I love you too, (Y/N).” He starts to leave the alleyway. “And bye the way,” He shouts from halfway down the street. “Tell Zenko she’s gonna take over the world!” 

“I will baby!” They poke their head out from the alleyway. 

“Now, get that pretty little ass of yours outta ‘ere!” He smiles back at you, as he charges straight towards the seven dragons in the sky. 

Selfishness was eating them up inside. They desperately wanted to bring him back to their embrace, and kiss him one last time. Their mind drifts off to a time when he comes back; battered, beat up, and bruised, but safe. His eyes scan the crowd for them. When he sees them, he comes barreling over, kissing their face. They bring him his little sister, as he watches her cry of joy. The crowds begin to scream as he leans in for a tender, loving, kiss that says “I’m so glad you’re okay, and happy you’re in my life.”

A rusty pipe lands right next to them, causing them to realize where they are. They sprint off to see where he went. The orange beast’s flames turn the nearby park, and everything in it, to ash. The yellow one bashes a nearby office building with its tail. The green one roars, sending violent sound waves that harshly permeate the area.  

“ATTENTION HUMANS!"  The red beast growls. “If you want us to leave, you must agree to our terms!” Time stops for a minute. 

“Okay!” Badd shouts from the distance. “You punks have caused enough destruction already! We surrender! Whaddya want?”  

“We demand a sacrifice.” It continues. “It must be a powerful member of your species. He must be able to give us power, so that we can sacrifice it to our king. Then, and only then, will we leave.” A gasp spreads around the room. 

Badd takes a glance around at the surrounding area. City T had just been annihilated. So has City X, City V, and City W. There was nothing left of them but debris, ash, and corpses. City S was next. 

He knew what he had to do to stop them. 

“Alright, I volunteer.” The people part the way for their savoir to walk into his fate. Tears start welling up in their eyes. Their mind is begging him for him to not do this. Stay with them, just for long enough to grow old, start a family, watch Zenko graduate, get married, quit this stupid job, or for just one last, proper kiss goodbye. 

“Thanks for the ice cream, Badd.”

“No problem, baby. You deserve it.” He swings your arm over their shoulder. “You deserve the world. Hell, the universe!” 

“I thought I deserved the universe!” 

“You do too, Zen.” He picks her up with his other arm. “I’m going to do everything to give it to you. Both of you.” 

They don’t move. 

“Alright! I’m here!” Badd shouts. As he stands, the largest beast comes down, its royal purple wings softening his landing. One of its claws probes Badd’s chest. He presses it harder and harder, and they know Badd is doing his best not to scream.

“If we take this one, we can stop our slaughter for the next ten billion years!”

“Really, your majesty?” The red one says.

“Hey Scales, can we get on with this? Do you need me or not?” 

“Yes, we do.” The beast propels himself upwards. As the crowd awaits the event, Badd slowly raises his bat. Once his arm is fully extended, he lifts his pointer finger, pinky and thumb. The monarch of the beasts throws his arm back, charging a purple orb.  

“Stay strong everyone!” Badd addresses the crowd. 

“I’ll always be with you!” He stares directly at them. 

The orb comes crashing down, muffling his screams. All of the beasts have gathered to see their sacrifice writhe in pain. Badd can’t even see his shaking limbs as they give out. He feels his skin burning, as his cries of pain become weaker and weaker. He knows that his muscles and bones are next. He doesn’t waste his energy trying to save himself. He just thinks of the happy moments in his life on Earth, and the reason he was doing this. 

His gut told him it would all be worth it. 

----

The orb disintegrates, and nothing is left of the S-class hero. 

“HUMANS! WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR TRIBUTE! WILL WILL NOT BOTHER YOU FOR ANOTHER 10 BILLION YEARS.” The purple beast takes to the skies, and the rest follow. They sprint over, shaking and panicking to find something, anything remaining of their love. 

“NOOOOOO! WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM?” They sob over the area where he should be laying. 

---

They lie in his queen sized bed. Everytime they tried to roll over and go to sleep, they couldn’t stop themselves from glance over to the other side, expecting to see his ruffled, black mop, the mesmerizing rise and fall of his chest, and his bulky muscles finally relaxing next to them.  His soft snores would normally bother them, but today, it would put them to sleep. It would give them the closure that everything would be okay, and that tomorrow, they would wake up in a cuddle puddle with his sister in the middle. He would kiss their nose and forehead, and recount the tale of his glorious victory of taking down an above dragon level threat as he made them breakfast. This couldn’t have happened. He couldn’t have been gone. Dragons don’t come from the sky demeaning sacrifice! He should be alive! He deserves life more than most of the heroes! He was 17! He had a very healthy and happy relationship! A bright future! A sister to care for! Instead, his sister was wrapped up in their arms, protecting them from the grief as long as they could. She had already seen enough, and she was only ten years old. The death of parents, and then her brother, the sweetest, kindest, toughest man they had ever met, was going to take a toll on this young girl's mind. She was tough, though. She fought for what she wanted. She was the spitting image of her brother, with a touch of her own grace She would make it through this. They knew they had a new job.

They needed to soften the blow as much as they could. 

---

Zenko had woken them up crying. 

“(Y/N)! I can’t sleep!” Zenko sniffles. 

“Me either, Zenko.” They lie. 

“I want my brother back!” She wails into their chest. 

“I want him back too, love.” 

“I want him to take me shopping! And make me mochi! And cake!” 

“I understand Zenko, darling. But, you have to get some rest.” They stroke her hair lovingly. It was the exact same color as her brother’s.

“WHY (Y/N)-chan, WHY?” They go quiet for a second.  

“You deserve the world. Hell, the universe!” 

“I thought I deserved the universe!” 

“You do too, Zen.” He picks her up with his other arm. “I’m going to do everything to give it to you. Both of you.” 

“He wanted to give us everything.” They look down at her puffy eyes and red cheeks, hugging her closer.

“Let’s make him proud.”

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

This for you, Forrest. I haven’t had the personal experience of grieving in my life, so I kind of went with my gut on writing this. I’m sorry if this is inaccurate, let me know, and I’ll fix it. You write some of the best headcanons for the fandom, and your little shitposts bring me joy. I understand that sometimes I may come off as annoying in private messages, but you seem very chill, and have quite a bit of wisdom to you. This makes your super enjoyable to be around.  Feel free to talk at any time. Thank you for all the good you bring. We’re happy to have you here! 

Requests Open! *Unedited*

[mylinhnd987]

SPIRITED AWAY: THE METAPHORICAL DETAILS BEHIND THE CLASSIC

New Post has been published on http://www.idolpop.us/spirited-away-the-metaphorical-details-behind-the-classic/

SPIRITED AWAY: THE METAPHORICAL DETAILS BEHIND THE CLASSIC

SPIRITED AWAY: THE METAPHORICAL DETAILS BEHIND THE CLASSIC

Link video:

ANIMATIONCONTENT The first detail that is repeated continuously throughout the movie is greed. [The scene Chihiro's parents eat and get turned into pigs] At the beginning of the movie, the scene where Chihiro's parents curiously entered the spirit land and discovered restaurants full of delicious food. Unable to resist the attraction of those delicious dishes, they ate a lot, no matter the origin of this meal. There ain't no such thing as a free lunch, right. Witch Yubaba turned them into pigs, resulting in Chihiro having to work in her bathroom to pay off the debt. [The scene of No-Face enters the bathroom – gives gold – is served] Next scene, No-Face becomes the "richest" guest in the bathroom. The filmmaker built this character in a very special way, as his name – nobody. No-Face is said to be a dirty

spirit and not allowed in the streaming bathroom. No-Face lives off of human greed. Greed, lust, liberty, and depravity. From a very kind character to having super magic in his hand, he turns into a greedy, bloodthirsty man. All were fascinated by No-Face's money, their greed delighted No-Face and lost his humanity more and more. [The scene of No-Face eats bathroom staff – chases after Chihiro – transforms into a pure soul and working as Zeniba's maid] When No-Face had finished his food, he turned to eat some of the bathroom staff and caused chaos for everyone. The only thing that makes No-Face is a pure, non-greedy soul by the little Chihiro. After eating a piece of Chihiro's medicine cake given by the god of the River, No-Face vomited everything he ate, including the three bathhouse staff he had swallowed and furiously chased after Chihiro. Chihiro cheated No-Face to chase her out to sea, away from the bathhouse, where he reverted to his true personality, transforming into an endearing spirit. This detail represents a very meaningful message: Greed will be inspired by a pure soul. The second metaphorical detail is the good and the bad. The land of spirits and monsters, it only manifests when the sun goes out, things of darkness are different from what exists in Chihiro's world. Through the characters the filmmaker built, we can see that kindness exists everywhere, even in the darkest, most terrifying places. Here, the magician Haku, Mr. Kajima – the slave of the kettle, the maid Lin, the No-Face, the witch Zeniba … are the representatives of goodness. If it weren't for Haku's help, Chihiro could hardly exist in a world that she didn't believe was real – a monstrous world. [Movie scene about Kamaji] As for Mr. Kamaji, at first glance, Mr. Kamaji seems scary but his personality is not like that. In fact, Mr. Kamaji was a gentle, kind person, and helped Chihiro a lot during her time here. The image of a six-armed old man – Kamaji gives the impression of good people regardless of their appearance and nature. [Movie scene about Lin and Lin with Chihiro] And Lin, a maid who is always bullied and often ridiculed by everyone, is the one on her side and taught Chihiro how to live and work.

[Movie scene about No-Face giving a card to Chihiro] Even No-Face helped her with the bath-cleaning job by handing her precious bath tokens The No-Face is said to be greedy and dangerous, but when we are with Chihiro, we see pure, slow, gentle and gentle spirits. Miyazaki once said “You must see with eyes unclouded by hate. See the good in that which is evil, and the evil in that which is good. Pledge yourself to neither side, but vow instead to preserve the balance that exists between the two.” There will come a time when children grow up and meet something weird, difficult to understand, but slowly they will understand. Just let children know how to recognize good people, working, they will become self-confident and will shine no matter where they are forced to live. That is what the author wants to send messages to the children through his live video footage. Besides the meaningful messages about life, Miyazaki also builds many details and scenes to reflect the reality of society. [The scene of the river spirit in the bathhouse area] The first is the details that show the problem of environmental pollution. He is pictured as a famous, heavily polluted, and smelly river spirit. The pollution was so horrible that no employee wanted to serve him when they went to Yubaba's bathhouse. It could even make a bowl of rice spoil instantly when it was a few meters away that Lin brought Chihiro. [The scene of helping people pull the bicycle out of the river spirit and the river spirit flew away] The contaminated god made his body full of mud, deformed, and hard to walk. It seems that man-made the river spirit ugly by his unconscious way of littering. He is also seen as an "unclean" spirit by Yubaba until the help of Chihiro pulls out a bicycle from his body. Besides environmental pollution, in Spirited Away, Miyazaki also mentioned that the hot problems of international concern are children's rights. [The scene where Yubaba threatens Chihiro and Chihiro to do heavy work] Miyazaki wants to talk about the exploitation of children's labor. The characters represent those exploiting the labor of children . That is Yubaba – the greedy witch who rules the

land of the soul. She makes Chihiro work as her employees and sends her incredible jobs. This is the criticism the filmmaker wants to reflect. If in real life, they bind the children to work for themselves with whips and threats, in his animation, Yubaba also threatened to turn her into a pig or coal and take her name to bind Chihiro. like people do. To a kind-hearted, environment-conscious, and child-loving person like author Miyazaki, he is strongly against the exploitation of child labor. That's why he included it in his movie instead of words he wanted to say. And he desires children to have their full rights, to learn, to play, and enjoy social welfare. In the film's flow, author Miyazaki has also sent us many more messages about the education of children's characters. [The scene Yubaba comment Chihiro and Chihiro cries after visiting her parents] Chihiro was said by Yubaba to be weak, lazy, and could only cry and do nothing, a useless person she didn't want to accept. But because she wanted to save her parents and get out of here, she had to face many things that she had never seen before. She had to clean the bathtub with a lot of trash, had to scrub the dirty "safe" tub … She was so pitiful that she cried hiccup beside Lin and Haku when she visited her parents. Her strong desire to save her parents motivated her to work and do even better. [The scene Haku helps Chihiro and Chihiro finds Zeniba to rescue Haku] Appearing in the first scenes of the movie, Chihiro is just a shy girl who always needs Haku's help, from Haku helping to hide Chihiro to making rice balls for her, everything thanks to Haku. But when Haku was in trouble, Chihiro found Yubaba's sister to rescue Haku, even though she did not know the danger would happen. Because she knows only she can solve her problems, she can't just wait for someone to help her forever! We must know to do the good on our own, the things that we consider important to us and not to expect too much on the help of others. [The scene Boh] A character built by the author to emphasize that message is Boh – the son of the witch Yubaba. Because his mother is so pampered, the boy is bland, selfish, and reliant. Although Boh is "gianter" than his mother, he is unable to stand up and just crawls around in his room. Boh is transformed into a mouse by Zeniba, Yubaba's twin sister.

Going through an exciting trip with Chihiro to Zeniba's house, the boy can stand on his own feet and cares more for others. It was a message to parents as well as children about the independent way of life that Miyazaki wanted to say. Les Brown also said: "Accept responsibility for your life. Know that it is you who will get you where you want to go, no one else." Each image, every word appearing in the movie has a great metaphor and connotation. Not only a cartoon film that won many major awards and the most popular of the 21st century, Spirited Away also has timeless values, I firmly believe that the value of this animation is eternal and nothing has been able to pass it yet. Spirited Away is a movie that anyone in life must watch once. The film is excellent not only for its quality image but also human values that the author wants to convey to viewers, especially children – who will change the future of the world in the future.

[auriel187]

Purgatory Ch.1

Word count: 8500 (around)

Warnings: Creepy Capitals being Creepy Capitals...

Pairings: None yet (ship who you want)

The Conclave

In times I tremble, I hold onto my heart knowing their safety is more important than my own.

In krono mhe slipp lowa, mhe kep onto mi beeta knowing demens secur is masal imprativ than mi own.

Eulalia

The cityscape was unapologetically urban. There were no trees or city planted blooms, just monoliths of concrete and glass soaring out of the sidewalk in an exact grid pattern. At night it was beautiful in it's own way, there were so many lights. By day you relied on the sky to let you know that it wasn't a monochromatic world; just one in which the people were too busy for life. For over a generation progress had meant the teaching of specific skill sets to the children of The Felicity and The Hope Rises. In most parts of this city we only work and eat, there was no time to sweep fall leaves or plant spring flowers, so they eliminated them. It was sad how mundane and rigid life became. There was no beauty, hardly even enough to notice the blue above. With no more designers, our clothing and cars never change, there are five styles of everything in Ellis, but you’ll very rarely see different districts dressed the same way. In this way our city outperforms those in the region.

In the mind of the young outcast I used to be, it was like a story to me. One that became more and more like a nightmare as time ripped every shred of innocence from my life.

The coldness of the slate tile and it's dampness seeped through the thin polyester trousers my brother, Hami, had stolen from the market. With knees pulled tight to my pronounced rib cage I shivered in the early morning chill. In this poor light the roof-tops spread in every direction like great grey serpents with rectangular scales. Only the red brick chimneys ruined the illusion, but in this light they were just as monochromatic as everything else, the slate, the swirling smog, the streets that were never deserted, the unfriendly sky with its dense cloud robbing me of the sunrise. From here I could see what a maze this borough was, every house three stories and each joined to the next. The streets curved as if laid down on a whim a few centuries ago before anyone had conceived of a grid pattern idea.

There I’d stay while I waited for school to begin, in my ripped khakis and oversized faded maroon shirt. There I’d stay telling myself stories of brave heroes who had it all wishing I could be one of them. Hungry, cold and tired from all the city had to give me, was it selfish of me to wish this on the little girl in my class who called me by the wrong name telling me I’d live the rest of my life covered in mud and shit and drinking out of a clogged gutter?

From the Mass, you could see all the things to love about the city, and there was a lot to love about this city. It was one thing I loved about Capital Hill. From the high arches in the towering glass buildings to the balconies that look over the sea of homes and businesses. It was one of the things I never had back home. The views from here were stunning. I could see The Torch glistening in the golden rays of sunlight, and the sense of safety that fills me is almost overwhelming. “Miss Suarez,” I heard behind me as I felt the soft breeze hitting the apples of my cheeks. The stray hairs behind my ears flailed about behind my ears as I turned to face the intruder now standing before me. He practically filled the doorway, in his uniform that made him look more like a cinder block than a man. His half shaved black hair glistened in the light before he took a step toward me. “The work day is over for you. There’s gonna be a Conclave later this evening at The Torch.”

I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, but judging by the way he held back his laughter I guess I failed. “What for?” I proceeded on as if I didn’t realise the cameras were there, and Seraphineas was living for it. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes as he chuckled boredly, “Maybe it’s another execution...or maybe they’re announcing a new system in place that only benefits them.” It was impossible not to hear the humour in his deep voice as he mocked the Capitals and the past Conclaves. Of course, knowing that he would never say anything like this in front of his other guard buddies really put a damper on things. He must’ve seen my fading smile because he immediately turned to walk me out. I slipped into the elevator, the wall of glass turned into a mirror. I see why people assumed we were related. We were both relatively tall, him at six feet and myself at almost five foot eight. Thin figures adorned with muscle that came from our unique forms of exercise. “The Conclave begins at five. You’ll be charted too so be careful.” Phineas warned me as we exited the elevator just before we parted ways.

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. You’d think something like that would bother a girl, but no. I’ve lived in this city my whole life. A girl gets used to the threats disguised as requests. They don’t just crash suddenly before you like lightning in a storm, I’ve known them to be the sudden raindrop before a downpour. It reminded me of the unease I felt every time I entered The Felicity. The Capital Hill district was beautiful. With their grand buildings and picturesque views, it was easy to say how much nicer it was then The Barrens or The Shadows. It was just another monster behind the curtain. A puppeteer pulling the strings of laws and lives of the people around them. They were an oxygen mask filled with poisonous gas to anyone that wasn’t their own. Luckily, I was close enough for them to view my life worth saving if shit ever happened.

I was a Regal now. Almost thirty eight percent of the population, we were almost untouchable in the eyes of society. We were privileged and we knew it, most of us acting like assholes because of it. I knew better. I used to be part of the forty two percent of Ellis. In short, my family was living ration to ration, sick and in a small house that was barely standing. I had a mother who worked her ass off just to come home to four kids and a father I barely knew because he was off working the most shifts he could. Unfortunately, the whole family plan didn’t work out when my mother and brothers all got Galixx, leaving only my dad and I.

I think we lived because we weren’t always home. I was the only one who went to school. Maybe if they didn’t think to send me away, I could’ve been with them. Instead, I left for school everyday and came home one day to my crying mother holding my brother, Devis, whose face was covered with sweat, dirt and tears as he coughed up blood. I turned and ran outside my home and began screaming until I found one of the town guard. I don’t know who long it took me to find him but when we got back, my mother was wailing and begging for the guard to take me away as she started coughing between her sobs.

I went to bed that night with tear stains running down my face, and to make matters worse, I was completely alone. I didn’t call anyone, simply sitting in my room with my eyes screwed shut until I eventually dozed off.

I woke up the next morning with a guard outside ready to escort me to my new home. My new home in The Hope Rises. It was nicer than my old home there was also more room up here not that my dad would be spending much time at home. It didn’t matter though, I was never completely alone. We all had our own family, mine just came in the form of Tauriel.

She was at the root of most of my happy memories. From my first day of school when she braided my hair and told me stories from books she had read from before the bunkers opened. I’d spend some nights at her house doing homework. She never really paid attention to anything aside from Earth Class. It was considered a Rogue class, but that didn’t stop a few Blends from coming in. Maybe she was interested because of the books she read of mountains that reached clouds, or butterflies with bright wings and this class was the closest thing to actually learning about them. She just wanted a world beyond these walls. I understood that. It just made us better friends. Even when I changed districts, we were still inseparable.

But, as Murphy’s Law dictates, “Everything that can go wrong will.” It was one of those days where Tauriel’s mom and I were baking for some Capital party. One of the snobby events where they needed catering and waiters. Zenobia, Tauriel’s mother, had been working for hours and seemed glad to have the assistance of a twelve year old. I had been decorating the large cake when I heard screaming from outside. Zenobia quickly ran to the window and nearly passed out. I muttered ‘Tori?’ before I was out the front door, seeing three guards trying to cuff her and shocking her into submission. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Her mom asked, trying to make it for her child. “Your child hacked into a government system with intent to distribute information.” I saw red, almost jumping on the guard closest to me. “She’s eleven, you lunatics!” Her mother reached for her daughter and the guard holding her hit her in the stomach. Tauriel and I froze. I didn’t know where to look. From the guard beating Zenobia to the guards dragging Tauriel to a large truck and throwing her in. I took a step in Tauriel’s direction and regretted it instantly.

A loud clang echoed behind me and Zenobia was lying on the ground, the guard walking to the truck without a second thought. When I ran to the unconscious woman, the truck drove away and I was stuck. Do I run for help or do I stay with her? I couldn’t shake the memory of my mom and Devis and what if I could just have faster? I need to stay with her. I’m not risking it again.

“Miss Fa Suarez?” I heard a voice say from behind me. I only turn my head but I stay pretty much in place as the swaying of the shuttle brings me back to the world I should be in. “It’s your stop.” He looks concerned. In his words, I’m usually ‘sharp as a tack’. I walk to the front of the shuttle and reach into my pocket. He’s here everyday. From my six AM trips to The Felicity straight to my trips back home at eight PM. “Take a day.” I say handing him my fair, plus another tip for waiting for me to get off. He never accepts my tips, but that doesn’t stop me from stuffing it in the small basket where he keeps his personal belongings. “This is why I got you these. Tell that sister yours I said to eat.” He handed me four wraps. I nodded my thanks at the sweet old man. “My love to the greats.” He laughed at my words before watching to make sure I descended the shuttle safely.

I turned towards my building. A large gold bricked building not very many stories high, but it was honestly much smaller on the inside than one would think when examining the building from outside. The air was cold here, it always was. With Tauriel constantly in the garage and having several pieces of machinery, the cool air prevented her and I from becoming casualties of her rage. She only ever got into tinkering when she was pissed. Based on the loud echoing clanking I could hear echoing from downstairs, I figured she’d need time to cool off and maybe put down whatever large metal object was colliding with her desk. In any sense, we had to be at a Conclave in a few hours.

My room wasn’t very big, only enough space to place my bed and two drawers. The room already had a large closet in the back so it’s not like I needed much in here anyways. The bronze and turquoise lights that swirled designs in my room. The premise of light and shadow was always appealing to me, maybe because it accrued anywhere and remained a natural part of life no matter what district you lived in. I headed towards my closet in search of something formal for the Conclave. I was never one for overt femininity, having been taught at a young age to not give a crap about what I look like and to just get the work done. That being said, I always managed to find a dress or two that I really did like. Scouring through pieces of cotton and linen, I stopped suddenly when I saw it again. A distressed brown leather coat.

It was just a jacket. It was just a stupid leather jacket with a padded quilt patch on the left elbow and a crap ton of buckles. There were faded letters on the left chest and a sort of mesh material that would cover my knuckles. It was just a jacket, and I loved it. Like a hidden piece of me that I never really show. This jacket screamed Rogue in uppercase letters. I loved that, even though I hadn’t been a Rogue in sixteen years. It almost felt wrong to wear it sometimes. Like I was an impostor trying to pass as something I wasn’t. I wasn’t even close.

I always envied Tauriel in that regard. Despite living here in The Regal Ward, The Hope Rises, with me, she never seemed to fear being shunned for not attempting to fit into the higher classed district. Fiercely adorning leather and denim in her everyday attire, she looked more like a Rogue than a Blend. Then again, why try fitting in when the world already looks down on you. Being that Tauriel’s district accounted for only one percent, and having been around Rogues most of her life it was easy to understand why she might be more comfortable in leather and studs.

“Are you wearing that tonight?” I heard her ask behind me. I should’ve figured she was on her way up when the banging and crashing ceased. I was holding the jacket in my hands, my fingers running over the cuff. “No...it doesn’t go with anything I own.” I gave my reply, letting my eyes drift past the coat and toward some of the other items of clothing in the confined space. I grab an old dress. The ornate gold dress collar along the black halter top matched the asymmetrical leaves on the red rose skirt. If it still fits like I remember, it should stop a little above my knee. “I’ll be in the shower. Do you…” before I could even finish asking, she responded. “Yes.” And with that, I left.

I spent almost thirty minutes in the bathroom, I was wrapped in my robe with my hair soaking wet. In the mirror, I hold my own gaze for just a second before taking into account how tired I must look. The bags under my eyes were devastatingly prominent. I don’t look at myself often, too afraid to not recognize myself from the old photos I had hanging in my room, and I was right. My features are sharper now, more pronounced jaw, higher cheekbones, and my eyes look more almond than monolid. I look like my mom. Though her hair was shiny black and mine was dark brown and my eyes are slightly darker than hers, I can still see it sickeningly clear. I placed my hand on the scar on my neck, remembering where my birthmark used to be. Descended from Natives and Malaysian ancestors, teachers at school would tell me that the very DNA in my bones held more history than our textbooks.

I’d know. I read them all.

It wasn’t much but keeping my hair down with a braid securely clipped behind my ears, neither Tauriel nor I had any makeup so my bare face and simple hairdo, Just dry your tears and fake a smile. Nobody wants to see a Regal cry. “You know, your eyes are going to get all puffed up. Here.” Tauriel stood behind me clutching a bottle of eye drops. I smiled at my oldest friend before I slung my arm over her shoulder and we walked to her room. I could never imagine my life without her. At this point, she was all I had to live for.

My little sister. I would walk from Heaven to Hell (and everywhere in between) for.

Tauriel

I always hated Conclaves. They always seemed too public. Ironic when you think about it. The word ‘conclave’ actually meant private meeting so the large citywide events seemed like a lie. I felt almost pageant-ish, told to look my best because of how many “eligible bachelors” there were. I honestly just think it’s because the Capitals would never want to be seen with the lower districts in our ‘rags and cheap coats’. In my opinion, the clothes the lower districts could afford only seemed to make the Capitals look more classy, almost like they were subtly jabbing at us in a way that said “haha, even in your best you’re not at level with our best.” And if we were looking to impress the eligible, more attractive people, The Rogues held that trophy for decades. Honestly, the glassy dullness of Capitals creeped me out. I wasn’t the only one who thought that either, the distinct features of each district were almost immediately identifiable.

The Capitals, born and raised in Capital Hill (aka The Felicity) had the most interesting eyes in the world, very distinctive for their central heterochromic irises that housed multiple colours at a time. That and the fact that most of them were fat faced from being able to eat was a dead giveaway. They look like the Bill Nye bobblehead Eulalia had on her desk. Capital also wore their hair short. I never understood why, but long hair was a sign of rebellion against the “oppressive and derogatory order of the Capital men.” I’ll give you one guess what demographic was saying shit like that. I’ll give you a hint, they steal daddy’s cards and mommy’s rocks to go flirt with the Rogue boys much to the disapproval of the elders. Acting like they were edgy for going through the same phase as their mothers did, before they realize that Rogue men don’t give a fuck about rocks unless it gets them paid.

The Regals were similar, wearing their hair slightly longer. Most had extremely lean frames due to the training most of them worked for since the age of six to become a guard. The Regal Ward housed most of the idiotic soldier boys, I was honestly surprised when a Regal came along and decided that they would rather sell booze to the city rather than tote a gun and act like you owned the place. Most regal women (like Eulalia) studied for the higher grades, like doctors and lawyers. It was cool to see Regals, though. Their tag was their hair. Yes it was usually cut short but I think they made up for it with the silver that rimmed their hair from birth.

Rogues were almost unbelievable in their district appearance. They had all the most beautiful features from their naturally sharp jawlines with either dimples or freckles (sometimes both). The boys usually had long hair, mostly because the Government didn’t think it was a good idea to give Rogues and Infects access to sharp edged tools, partly because most of them thought they looked tough. They were all ripped, boys and girls from years of literal heavy lifting. I always considered myself lucky to be a Blend in that regard. We always got some kind of Rogue gene. I dawned dimples. My Jawline wasn’t as defined but I had that feature and I was glad I did. Eulalia was of Native descent so her bone structure resembled a statue carved of marble.

Eulalia kept fidgeting with the metal collar on her dress, her jacket fitting her narrow frame as the dress hung above her knees. I know for a fact how much she hated wearing tight, single layers. Regales often wore baggy jumpers with tattered looking overlayers. It was the perfect look for her. Mostly Regal but with an obvious Rogue history. “Hey.” I whispered, her head snapping down to me due to her not only being a few inches taller than me but in heels nearly the same height Seraphineas. “You okay?” I asked. The huge influx of people walking towards The Torch, once a mighty statue.

She always had this moment where she stands just out of view of the guard. The Conclaves would separate people based on district and having only recently (not recently) turned twenty one, the word Regal was now branded on her identifications, she still felt like a traitor for standing with them. She nodded, softly patting my hand before walking towards the desk. I did the same.

“Hold out your hand please.” A woman asked, holding a large glass plate with a few small censors out to me. It was cold under my palms as it scanned the fingerprints. My face appeared on a small screen in front of the woman. It must’ve had the words Bruise in big block letters because the demeanor of this woman changed as she stared me down. She quickly gripped my arm and clasped a large silver cuff on my wrist. Could she feel me rolling my eyes at this? I huffed a laugh at her attempt to be nonchalant. She has to know how obvious it is that she now fears a twenty three year old. I stared at the blinking light as I walked through the stone arch that led to the city center. The four sectors were at least proportional to the Districts population, Blends/ Bruises having the least amount of people. I stood in the back, my eyes glancing over to the Regal section where I attempted to find Eulalia. I can see Seraphineas walking down the row and walking towards the back of the section. The silver streaks in his shortened hair I can recognize immediately, even in the sea of silver headed citizens. He liked to dye his hair darker, I know he tries to keep his hair as neutral as possible as to not get busted right away when he gets sent undercover, but that only made the silver look like a slate blue.

The microphone screamed. A short, sickly woman stood on the stage with a tall, semi healthy looking man. They were Capital to the heights accord. The Jevons to be exact. They were the parents to three kids. Spoiled like asshats as most people like to call them. They come to the Mopes once a week. They go thrifting cause it sounds real fun and looks real cool when a Capital is down to get down, while they wear their false lashes that wave like flags to the men here. I can see their eldest, a girl by the name of Apathy and yes she lives up to her name. A narcissist who spends her time ridiculing the districts for the fact that The Felicity robs us blind. Places like The Barrens and The Bounds were trash holes where the people should bow down and kiss her feet. The only reason she even dares cross the boundary is to find a piece of ass they’d dump after a month anyway.

Even now, Apathy and Power (yes, Elodora and Zenier Jevon named their son Power) were basking in the spotlight of Capital glory, whilst Anarchy, the youngest, was staring off into the Regal section with her lower lip between her teeth. Apparently mommy and daddy’s speech was a bore. She really thought she was somebody though. Her honey gold tresses dangle to her lower back rather than the neatly buzzed pixie most of the women wore.

“We celebrate another year of safety and sanctity behind the walls of Ellis...” The woman on stage spoke in a shrill voice that instantly made my whole brain throb. Can this day get any better? Well yes actually. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the one and only October Vervent. I was nearly four years older than him and I'm thoroughly convinced he’s been taller than me since birth. I slowly weaved my way through the section to find the taller young man. I pat his shoulder causing him to jump slightly and smile almost immediately. His mother was a Rogue, just like mine. His jawline was more rounded, less sharp than most Rogues and Blends. He was of Chinese descent, which gave him shiny black hair that only cut off below his ears with a single streak of silver just behind his left ear. Just below but still in sight, was a tattoo that read “I CAN’T HEAR YOU.” Well, that’s one way to tell the world you’re deaf and mute.

I knew he had spent the better half of ten minutes reading the lips of the Jevons standing on the large metal podium. I turned to face him. He followed suit with an even bigger smile. I saw two small scars just above his ears. I’ll have to do something with that later. “It is our pleasure to present the recipients of this year's Grands.” Elodora continued with her rehearsed and very poorly executed speech. I normally would have stopped listening by now, but October needed a break from people being completely oblivious to his needs and the needs of people like him. I began signing to him, each word they said. “Mara Fox of the Barrens District. An extra one hundred was added to your wage, congratulations on receiving Dead Eye, Miss Fox.” A knew the name. I’m sure Everybody did. Every member of the Fox family walking the earth had naturally bright red hair. Mara was the only one with a fiery red.

She walked up on stage almost gingerly. The apprehension in her warm brown eyes as she twisted the material of her dusty rose dress, which was actually just an oversized T shirt with bleach stains and burn holes at the bottom. Her hair was in an updo. The front was twisted up to the right side of her head with a long braid that wrapped the rest into a sock bun. The smile on her face was fake. She usually had these deep dimples in her cheeks when she smiled. She was on the stage, the uncomfortable feeling that this was some kind of sick joke was evident by her wandering eyes. The part that made me sick, though, was when Zenier Jevon looked her up and down, biting his lip at the exposed fair skin of her legs. He stared at her almost greedily as he shook her hand. He was married with three demon children and was currently drooling at the thought of being with a twenty five year old on a public stage. A girl the same age as his youngest daughter with his wife standing right next to him as the creep caressed her hand. Were all men in power this fucking gross? She bid the couple a near silent thank you as she practically flew off the stage.

A low applause filled the room as she returned to her place with all the other Rogues and Infects. Everyone began to move out of the aisle, heading for the doors when, “The next recipient of this grand is…” What the hell? In the 23 years I’ve lived in the city and all the Conclaves I attended, there was never more than one recipient. Never has there been multiple. Ever. The crowds all stood frozen. Something wasn’t quite right about this. “...Eulalia Fa Suarez!”

Something definitely was right here.

Eulalia looked more confused than I thought she would. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly walked to the stage. She kept shooting questioning looks to both Seraphineas and I as she shook the hands of the Jevon’s on stage. Xenier had the fakest of fake smiles before he practically pushed her off the stage, where the crowd raised their hands in an awkwardly pushed applause. October and I didn't applaud though. I think he might’ve been able to sense my worry because even as I stood completely spaced out, staring at the empty space where Eulalia was standing not that long ago.

“The next grand being received,” I snapped out of my daze and signed to October. I know he was able to read lips but honestly he deserved all the help the world had to offer. “Thayer Michaels for bringing in the most food for the city!” Eladora spoke pridefully as the Rogues and Blends (Infects and Bruises included) either scoffed or dramatically rolled their eyes. Of course we did. Regals had the highest population and spent most days begging for scraps. Blends were treated just the same unless both parents were in the picture. Capitals were less than fifteen percent of Ellis and for some ridiculous reason, they deem themselves more important than every other district taking first picks of long hauls and leaving enough for them to have a chuckle watching the poorest of citizens fight for stale bread or and water rations.

I wasn’t complaining. If anyone deserved the grand, it was Mara Fox, EulaliaFa Suarez and Thayer Michaels. Mara Fox, when she wasn’t doing the wood work or in the meat room, spent hours teaching young Rogues how to read, giving them the education most of them had to give up in order to eat. Eulalia bought big portions of food and would walk the streets of the Barren giving food to families. She cries when she comes back and begs me not to ask about it. In guilt, she pushes to raise the ration fund for Capitals and Regals before she offers her leisure time (which she barely has) to teach kids in the neighborhoods that had no doctors basic medical skills. Thayer spent his time not hunting as a caretaker. He would walk October and a few other people to and from places, getting them groceries and even playing with them in parks. It didn’t need to be said that October was his favorite. October was partial to him too, if the smile that was currently on his face said anything as he watched the much taller, much older man walk on stage. He deserved it. All three of them did, but giving them grands to commemorate for all they’ve done almost exclusively for The Felicity made them seem far less noble.

At this point, for October, I tried not to focus on the fact that Eladore was eyeing Thayer the same way Zenier was eyeing Mara. What the fuck is wrong with these people?

When the Conclave ended, there was this feeling of unease. October and I still stood side by side as the Capitals made their way out first, not wanting to be surrounded by the lowest of lows for longer than necessary. They also just got to leave. Every other district was either held back to get your cuff taken off or you were waiting for someone who did. Yet another way to separate us and treat us like crap. All because I have a flashy red label next to my name. To hell with it all. I stood in the line watching as people existed around me. I never felt like I was existing anywhere close to them. Eulalia was having a conversation with October, Mara was having a moment with her boyfriend and Seraphineas is breaking up a fight. Oh this chaotic world of mine.

“You know,” I heard a deep voice behind me. An air of familiarity hit and shifted to my comfortable numbness once I knew who it was. “The point is for you to move up when people leave, right. Don’t tell me you grew attached to that thing.” Yup, same old Thayer. I took a few steps forward closing the gap between me and the tall Rogue girl in front of me. “Still not much of a talker, huh, Jailbait?” He said quietly enough so only I could hear him. Part of me wanted to clock him for bring up that stupid ass nickname. Another part wanted to give a smart ass reply. I was so in my own head, I missed the opportunity. “You always did prefer hunks of metal to people.” He bit. I just knew the bastard had a smirk on his face right now. “Hunks of metal don’t talk and aren’t nearly as narcissistic.” I responded, adamant on getting away from the prick.

I was never so glad to see a Capital in my life and this one was a real bitch. The younger woman had the angriest look in her eye when I walked up, not sure why. I don’t fuck with Capitals and the feeling was mutual. “Have you stolen any property not belonging to you during the conclave?” What the fuck was there to steal, all the shits a person could give? “No.” She sized me up before shooting a quick glance to Thayer, who was still behind me. “During the Conclave, did you skip a mandatory announcement for-” She looked at Thayer again, this time slowly taking in his features, “any reason of recreation?” Is she serious? I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, we ran off to tap dance on the Torch. I guess you caught us.” I could hear a few people snickering at my rebuttal. At least they have a sense of humour.

Eulalia

Tauriel looked about as comfortable as I thought she would. She had a scowl on her face as the attendant pried the cuff off of her wrist. “Ak heppia?” I called out to her. She turned to me with a small smile. She didn’t have to look up to see who was talking to her, I’m pretty sure only a handful of people still speak Dyselian. It made Tauriel feel safe, like people couldn’t poke their nose into our thoughts and conversations. She nodded slowly, she was alright but the exhaustion of having to deal with so many people was getting to her. “Mhe am heppia, mhe just desir to vette hadven.” I chuckled at that, because of course she just wanted to go back home. I honestly am not sure why she didn’t want to stay. Most girls would kill to get Thayer to utter a single word to them. Like most Regal boys, he was broad shouldered with rippling muscles that were obvious under any shirt and tall as hell. Who was I kidding, she'd rather break every bone than deal with her old tormenter again.

She walked over to Toby and I, glad to be with people she could actually tolerate. “U beso to gat allies!” I whispered, pinching her arm. She visibly cringed at the idea. “Mhe would rather pia in hutted.” she replied, turning to look at October. She quickly signed ‘Eula says I need to make friends.’ The taller boys tried to stifle his laughter before he signed ‘She’s right.’ Tauriel rolled her eyes before the two began to playfully bicker back and forth. I left them to their devices when I turned to notice Mara standing to the side waiting for Cecil to get his cuff off.

“Hey, Fox.” I said nudging the redhead’s shoulder. She quickly turned to face me, a smile quickly spread when she realized I wasn’t some other Regal. She whispered a quiet hello before turning to look at her boyfriend. It’s been a while since I’d seen Cecil but he grew up nice. He was now a little over six foot two, typical for Rogue males. “He asks about you two.” Mara stated seemingly out of the blue. I know she worried about him all the time, more so since he stopped coming over for exams. It was the same look in her eyes the night she called Tauriel and I to help him after a few guards thought it right to attack him. “You let him know it’s nothing for me to do an exam?” I asked as the freckled young man moved up in the line. Mara’s voice quivered as she nodded “Everyday. He doesn’t want to bother you, you being a doctor and all.” She smiled slightly when he waved our way. “He still working in the mines?” I asked. Mara scoffed, “Like he’d ever stop. Thick as he and his buddies are?” I couldn't help but laugh. Cecil definitely hadn’t changed. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the chimes rang throughout the city. Fuck!

“Tell him I say to give that shoulder a break every once in a while!” I say before I began running back to Tauriel and October. This wasn’t good. Tauriel looked ready to break something. Her fists were clenched so tight, I thought she'd pierce the skin. As quickly as I could, I signed to the two of them, ‘We need to leave. October, you’re staying at our house for tonight.’ Tauriel froze in place. I only sent her a sympathetic smile when October ran to grab his protector. Thayer had placed his hoodie over October as we all started to Tori and my building. We walked the back alleys and listened for the easy to identify marching of the guards.

I’m not surprised that Thayer is good at this. He was a hunter. Standing at nearly six six, he is both light on his feet and stealthy. I imagine his training was horrifying but I know for a fact that he learned his skills while he was in prison not when he got out. He had the same urgent distrust of his surroundings that Tauriel has whenever she leaves our house. What the fuck did they do to them?

Tauriel sneaks to the back of the building and then there’s silence. I held my breath as I waited for her. I smiled when I heard a whistle emit from around the corner. We were behind the building in a second as she held the window open. She turned to Thayer first, I know it was because he was the tallest and the window was a little more than seven feet above the ground. He went down feet first and let out a satisfied smirk when he landed. I sent October in next, only because I wanted him inside before any guards decided to check back here. I went next, grabbing onto the copper pole that hung above the window I quickly slid in. Thayer made sure to place me down on the concrete floor rather than actually let me jump. Tauriel came in and jumped from the window, closing it before the guards could see her.

We got inside just before eight. The second we entered upstairs from the basement, the alarms started blaring. They had placed a curfew after the Conclave. I can see Tauriel standing awkwardly by the door before she disappeared into the garage. October sent me a curious look and I was glad he didn’t hear what I assumed to be her shelf colliding with the ground or the string of Dyselian profanities. He didn’t need to witness that. Thayer seemed a little shocked at first but I guess he knew the feeling because he sent me a sorrowful half smile.

“Hey! Go lon out isei yella!” She reluctantly exited the garage with a kid bruise forming at her knuckles. She looked beyond pissed. “Mhe deid howa infolo! Mhe deid howa infolo it was a angaari!” She began pacing around. I sent a look to October who was all too quick to leave, practically dragging Thayer behind him as he headed upstairs. I could feel Tori’s blood boiling from here. “I knew they were up to something. I should’ve guessed there would be a trap too!” I said nothing. She was right about something weird going on. The Capitals never offered more money than necessary, they never offered grands and fundings to more than one person each. It’s fairly odd that three people won the grands and six won the funding.

We walked upstairs seeing Thayer and Toby looking for something to eat. Tauriel had walked into her room, closing the door behind her as I walked into the kitchen. October was stuffing his face with bread, not at all worried about anything today had to offer. Thayer on the other hand was standing against the wall, watching as his little brother consumed his food ravenously. I could see how hungry he was too. I tossed him a loaf of his own, standing next to him as we watched the near twenty year old fill himself while sitting on the floor. “You take great care of him.” I said quietly. Most people thought that Rogues like Thayer, tough guys who got into fights, were barbaric animals. They get told that they’re animals so much that they believe it so much.

He looked me in the eye before quickly averting his gaze to the floor. He shrugged off my compliment like it was nothing, but the itching of his lip and the dimple in his cheek let me know that he appreciated it. We sat in silence for a minute before I blurted out “Can I ask you something?” To which he laughed in response. He rolled his shoulders back and relaxed a bit. “Go ahead but I might not answer.” ‘Cheeky bastard’ I thought, rolling my eyes at him “It’s about Tauriel.” He got serious rather quickly at the mention of her name, standing up and staring at me in concern. “Sure, what’s up?” His voice dropped a bit.

“What was she like? In prison?” It hurt me to ask but I might learn something. I pretended not to notice the disappointment and guilt in his eyes even though his long hair had fallen in his eyes.He scratched the back of his neck before clearing his throat. “She was noticeable.” He smiled to himself. “When she got there, a bunch of guys sought her out as a punching bag. They learned pretty quick not to mess with her.” his voice carried such pride as he spoke it was kinda heartwarming. I knew this story. Some prick came in ready to throw punches on anyone in there, he immediately thought Tauriel would make a good target. Thayer got in the way just in time. It’s why he started calling her Jailbait. Easy pickings for a prison brawl. “She was so fucking smart! So much smarter than the guards there. Smart ass got into her fair share of trouble. They threw her in the pit the first night!” That explained a lot. “She came back with a tattoo, we all did.” He mumbled, pulling down the neckline of his shirt to reveal his collarbone. Liberties lined his skin from his collarbone to his right shoulder. “What does “people are poison” mean?” I asked suddenly. He seemed caught off guard. “It means that most people will try to kill you before they actually help you.” He must’ve noticed my furrowed brow because he immediately nudged me with his shoulder “Don’t worry. It’s about Capitals.”

I scoffed. “You definitely sound like Tauriel. She always worries. Thinks they’re monsters that suck the world around them dry.” He laughed at the idea. “You think they’re evil too?” I asked. He shook his head. “I think they know not to poison the water they need to drink.” He says picking up October, who had fallen asleep on my kitchen floor with a half eaten bread roll in his hand. “You boys take my and Tauriel’s beds. We got a couch in the garage.” Thayer shot me a look of refusal. “Like you AND October can fit on the thing, go!” I shooed him away with a humoured grin plastered on my face. He put October in my room, I had a sneaking suspicion he would. “Any particular reason why you opted to take the room of a young girl, Mr. Michaels?” I heard him scoff. He looked up at me with a grin. “She fashioned her room like I did mine.” He responded. I shot him a curious look before it hit me. It looked and felt like a prison cell. That’s why it was always so cold.

I stood silently in the doorway of the garage. Tauriel, currently sitting on the floor fixing her busted shelf with her braid in a sort of bun, paid no mind to my existence as she worked. “You can come in here.” She mumbled under her breath before filling the shelf so it stood at its proper height. I sat on my bench, filled with some of my tools as Tauriel sat in hers. She was tinkering away at something.

When she was arrested, I became her only family left. I would call her everyday and visit her every chance I got, but these walls became so quiet when she went away. I would go to school, earn some quick cash from dumb kids then big bucks from dumb adults. I called her and taught her lessons over the phone and she’d be happy. When I’d go visit her, she’d keep her head down and speak slowly. There were times I’d wonder if she’d make it, but as time went on she became the queen. When she was finally let out, due to the ‘Liberty Act’ all occupants twenty one and lower got released at that point she was seventeen and only a fraction of the eleven year old I saw arrested over a decade ago for no real reason.

She came out with a tattoo, two Liberties on her waist and a new habit of looking over her shoulder at every turn. On her twenty first, when she was branded Bruise by the rule of the Capitals I noticed the scars on her back for the first time. She was wearing her hair up, similar to how it was styled right now, and her top tied around her neck leaving her upper back open. She said she wanted to see the rain so we figured out a way to do it. That year, she spent over a hundred days teaching me how to fix things. I guess when you have a tendency to break things you learn how to fix them.

“I saw Mara earlier. She and Cecil said hi.” I saw her break into a small smile. She adored the redhead, always finding humour in her quickly retorts and sarcastic remarks. “Tell them I say hi.” Tauriel went back to work in a much better mood. “You know…” I started watching Tauriel place an old pair of headphones over her ears. She nodded at me to continue. “With Cecil’s longer hair and dimples, he kinda looks like Thayer…” I held in my laughter when Tauriel’s face fell. She rolled her eyes dramatically before taking off the headphones. “Eula, sharp bone structure and long hair is kinda the norm. And don’t go ruining Cecil for me, he’s my friend.” She still laughed. It’s been years since I heard that sound.

I always loved the sound of Liberties in the morning. The sweet sound of their bird song that let me know I was still in the garage when I should’ve been sleeping hours ago. What did I care? I spent most of my nights on this very bench and often woke up with my head against the cool metal of my desk. I sit with my head in my hand for a minute or two before I actually stand. The boots I ditched last night were still on the floor by my feet, so I decided to leave them there and go eat. The fixed up headphones were around Tauriel’s neck, with a stray wire tickling the back of her head. “Need your room back?” He asked from behind me. I actually did but I wasn’t going to let him know that. I spared a glance in his direction, he almost filled the door frame. He was smirking at me. That devilish smirk, like I didn’t know that's not who he really was. “Is October awake, I need him for something.” I kept my voice cold as I spoke to the older man. He gave me that look, the same one he gave me in prison when he wasn’t overly trying to be a jerk or when he thought I wouldn’t notice. He gave me a quick smile before heading into my room for the sleeping twenty year old.

Toby came out rubbing his dark brown eyes. I pulled him into the kitchen as Thayer emerged. He smiled at his brother before pushing off the door post he was leaning on and going back into Tauriel’s room to get dressed. October kept looking around the kitchen for food as I placed a food bag in front of him. We went through the cupboards, grabbing things for the young man to take home. I knew it would be easier for me to stock my cupboards rather than Toby and Thayer to stock theirs. We were almost done wrapping the bread when the alarm blared throughout the city. “THAYER MICHAELS, REPORT TO THE HAULING STATION.” I nodded at October to continue, letting him know I’d be right back before quickly making my way to the hall where Tauriel was waiting outside the bathroom. When he came out of the bathroom, his hair was tousled and slightly damp. Tauriel wasted no time heading into the steam filled room, waving the soft white clouds from her face. “Sorry in advance. I used a lot of hot water.” He stated through the door to which Tauriel offered no reply. Whatever he did to get this reaction from her must’ve been bad. I saw a glint of that subtle irritation in his eyes, understanding too, but mostly just irritation. “Don’t worry, she likes to take cold showers.” He looked my way with a forced smile. I watched as he quickly put on his jacket and boots shooting me a questioning look. I chuckled knowing exactly what he planned to ask me. “I’ve got work in a couple hours, but Tori will watch him okay?”

He only stiffly nodded before opening the door and heading to the Hauling Station.

@jayloxoxo @thinkinghardhardlythinking @justagirlinafandomworld @mashedpotatowithcheese

[parkeraul]

anatomy | oneshot

a/n: i don’t know what it is but i had this stuck in my phone’s notes and i’m going to give it a try lol. i got inspired by a post here on tumblr and another one on twitter (both different, both NOT what you’re thinking they are) and this is like... nerdy!shawn? college!shawn? student!shawn? idk read it to find it out. plus, this is a work of fiction, so the situations named in here aren’t exactly what happens in real life, my dudes. i don’t know if this is how it happens, i’m assuming stuff just to give them an atmosphere. all built up for shawn and reader’s relationship to go somewhere on this imagine. sorry in advance to any medical students lmao.

shawn x reader  warnings: cursing, smut (?).  words: 7.272

It’s nearly 10pm in a saturday when he knocks on her door with his free hand, holding his book in his other hand kind of nervously. She tiptoes downstairs, quickly knotting the strap around her robe to cover her recent showered body. Her mind goes confused, wondering who might be standing outside at this time. Peeking through the magic eye, she can barely recognise the tall figure standing in front of her door with what she figured out as a backpack hanging on his back and something under his tattooed arm. She wasn’t expecting anyone from college because the finals were still happening and she finally managed to get home after passing hers, so everyone else should probably be stuck in their houses half studying, half praying. When she saw his hand coming up to curl in a fist next to the wooden material, she flicked the keys to the side and made sure to hold the upper part of her robe, pulling the edges together to cover her breasts and collarbone.  Opening the door, she meets him wearing a desperate expression on his flushed face. He sighs in relief before putting his shit together. “Shawn? What are you doing here?” She asks smiling insecurely, he doesn’t follow her though. “Thank God you’re home!” He vents and exhales heavily. “I know this is super weird and random, but I honestly don’t know who else to look for. I’m really sorry. God... I shouldn’t-“ “Spit it out, Mendes!” She giggles, opening the door a little bit more to show him somehow that she’s welcoming him. “You know you can count on me to something more than just having my veins available for you to train your blood-removal skills.” She winks and he smiles shyly, remembering how insecure he felt when first asking her to volunteer and be his pair to this class in specific.  

They’ve become pretty close, always getting paired for the classes because they knew that they were responsible and worked greatly together – always hitting high grades even in the most difficult subjects. Medical school is hard already, so they’ve found in each other an easier way to go through it all by supporting each other since their class is filled with so many selfish people. Shawn and Y/N were rarely hanging out when not in college – but more than friends, they are also something like partners in crime.  Although he had a very serious crush on her at first sight, he kept on doing his best to get rid of the feeling eventually, even though he knows he’s not 100% there, he thinks that he’s seen everything he could and his rational side is working constantly to make him get used to live next to her like a normal person would do (seeing her as a nice classmate who’s there for him, not someone who he wants to trace every single inch and experience his daydreams with). She finds him attractive, she can’t even lie. But she would never make a move considering how reserved he is, fearing that he might reject her right at first and never look at her face again. Things couldn’t get this awkward. 

Y/N opens some space for Shawn to step inside her living room and gives him a gentle smile, always reassuring him wordlessly that he can feel comfortable in her presence to ask whatever he wanted to ask – she felt more than glad to solve his doubts, actually. 

“I’m sorry for showing up so late and...” He finally sees that she’s wearing nothing but a black cotton robe and her hair is wet, clinging to her back. “Well, s-sorry for interrupting your s-shower, I-“ Shawn facepalms and rubs his forehead, trying to brush his nervousness off and find the right words to say. He doesn’t want to look like a creep. “Mendes, you’re rambling,” She warns him and closes the door, grabbing his stuff for him to have free hands to take off his coat and shoes. Knowing it, Shawn rapidly does it all before putting both hands together to wait for further instructions. “Stop apologising! You know I don’t care about it.”  Shawn knows that Y/N doesn’t really give a shit about things that some other people would do. She always says that a body is a body: it’s not an object and that a body and sex should be seen as something natural, not something who demands silly and unnecessary jokes when you look at it. And considering the partnership they’ve been developing, she felt more comfortable to talk to him about these things without stuttering or feeling embarassed. If they wanted to build a professional career, they had to deal with bodies normally. 

Maybe this is one of the reasons why they’ve never sat down to spill the tea about their secret little crushes. Shawn is a gentleman, of course, and that’s what keeps him fighting his willing to love on her like he never did with anyone else. He is misunderstanding her words, perhaps. She always talked to him about how much she hates when their classmates started joking and sexualizing human bodies like they were made for nothing more than sex. But that didn’t mean that she’s not into finding out how their touches can melt delightfully, because that’s been currently taking over her imaginations more often than she’d like it to – debating with her own mind how wrong is this, how awful it is of her to imagine Shawn maping her body with those intentions that she wishes her whole class could stop feeding. Maybe she had forgotten to say that, if they’re both agreeing on doing this, if their feelings are matching, then it’d be a whole another story (that she’d love to live intensely, thank you very much). This is such a hot mess.

She trails her way to the kitchen and he follows her before he can miss the sight of her. She points to the big island in the middle of her kitchen for him to sit as she places his book and backpack on top of it. “What’s going on, Shawnie Boy?” She asks while opening her fridge to look for something to eat to offer him. “Thank you for being way too nice, Y/N,” He chuckles to himself, also thanking the universe for crossing their ways. “I couldn’t pass Sally’s latest test and she’s going to eat me alive if I fuck up with the upcoming final exam.” Y/N grabs a box of grape juice to put on top of the island along with some Doritos she found on her cabinet. She thought he might probably want to sink down in unhealthy garbage to calm his damn nerves. “Sally is really unpredictable, isn’t she?” Y/N jokes and also grabs what’s left of her chocolate cake inside the oven to join the other stuff. “What was it about?”  “Anatomy,” Shawn says unpleasantly, grabbing the glass that Y/N is giving him so he can pour some juice to himself. “Women’s body kind of anatomy, more specifically. It makes me wanna give up on this damn class.” He opens the box and starts filling his glass with the deep purple liquid. “You actually can’t. This subject is... How do they say? Obligatory.” She says, staring at him and finishing setting the island with tiny plates and forks. “See? I know I should be studying music or whatever doesn’t envolve vulvas and labias.” His tone expresses all of his disappointment. Shawn hates to fail and also hates the whole process of learning from his mistakes. He never allowed himself to fuck it up even though he had no previous knowledge to execute something perfectly for the first time. “Keep thinking like that and you’ll end up seeing your own hand for the rest of your life.” Y/N is effortlessly pushing him over the edge of his stress, but he knew she was only playing around so he pretended not to care that much. He thought of replying her as boldly as she’s doing, but when she leaned forwards a little bit to cut a piece of cake, he accidentally saw her skin underneath the dark fabric – almost getting the view of the swell of her breasts. He swallowed harshly, immediately searching for his book to find the pages that have been driving him insane over the past weeks. ‘It’s fine. This is fine. Everything’s okay.’ He quietly warns his own body. Shawn shakes his head and takes a generous sip of his juice and tries hard to blink and miss the view of her not even noticing what just happened and still trying to cut a perfect square to place on a plate. “I... Mm... Have been reading from page 45 to page 97 over and over again for two weeks straight and-“ He starts with difficulty and, as if it wasn’t hard enough for him now, she’s licking and sucking at her fork she used to set under her piece of cake to lift it up and off the tin while looking him deep in the eyes, waiting for him to conclude his first doubt of the night. She didn’t mean to seduce him on purpose, but if she only knew the way she is messing with his head right now, she’d probably do something much worse. 

Shawn feels like cursing all the words he knows out loud. 

He’s been managing to keep his first impressions controlled for years. Why is this shit coming up again like he’s seeing her for the first time in his life? His brain, always hungry for coherent answers, figured things out in a matter of seconds. When he understood it all, he came back to earth and denied his own instincts angrily. Hopefully, he would never ever need to explain this reason to anyone else. 

“And?” Y/N snaps him back to reality, removing the fork out of her mouth and clicking her tongue to finish the small taste she had from the tiny crumbles that were glued to the steel.  “And... I...” He keeps on turning the pages frantically, not wanting to waste time. Who knows that she wouldn’t get him lost between running to the closest bathroom to splash some water on his face and staying frozen in his seat to never get up again until he stops hardening against his sweatpants during this quick lack of words? “I c-couldn’t quite understand and memorize these parts and their functions.” Shawn fixes a single curl back to its place and then he points to the figure on his book.  “Really?” She frowns. How a smart and handsome guy like Shawn can’t understand simple explanations about a vagina? “Why have you circled this so many times? You can barely see what it is.” She points to a messy grey sketch.  “It’s the clitoris,” Shawn rolls his eyes and clears his throat before moving on. “Need to remind myself that this shit is killing me mercilessly with this stupid amount of nerve endings.”  “You wish, Shawn,” Slicing her cake, she jokes and wraps her lips around the fork once again. Shawn can literally feel the palms of his hands sweating and he swears to God he could explode at anytime. Why anatomy of the reproductive system? Why not microbiology or pharmacology? He knew he should be a pro by now. “You better take notes about this little thing in particular if you want to pass or make a girl squirm under you.” 

Can she stop?  Great.  Now he’s picturing it. 

“Plus, I can guarantee you that, once you get to find where it is and how it works, you’ll wish you could reciprocate the merciless part everyday.” 

This is not study. This is torture.  Bad grades and bad thoughts. The “perfect” combo.  Shawn gets his notebook and pencils out of his bag and works fast to find a blank page to start writing. 

The time flies by with her careful explanations.  Y/N might joke a lot with him but she knows when to talk seriously.  She’s patient to describe every single detail and say things once more in a different way for him to see it all in a different way.  She speaks; he writes and asks again. All happening in a loop and Shawn’s pretty surprised that the chills that were taking over his lower region were gone now. He’s been doing his best by looking down at the paper all the time, refusing to peek at her.  “No! Nah-nah-nah...” She says and stretches her arm to grab the eraser next to him. He falls out of his concentration and reacts by traveling his eyes from her fingers to the expansion of her covered arm and finishing at her now exposed collarbone. The scent of her moisturizer escapes her robe to invade his nostrils. He can’t help but inhale deeply as she brings the eraser to rub the words he’d been writing.  “What’s that on your clavicle?” Still studying her skin, he asks impulsively. Shit.  She looks at him and then down at her own body.  “Oh... This?” She sets the fabric to the side a little bit more, now almost showing her entire shoulder. Shawn feels like choking on his own air. “It’s just a little scar. Got it when trying to run away from my cousin once. Nails strong enough to mark me,” She remembers and giggles lowly. “Unfortunately not as cute as this one you have on your face.” 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. 

She just noticed that she revealed loudly one of her favourite things about him.  For the first time in the night, he smiles.  He feels his chest burning – still shyly – and she can’t take her eyes off his beautiful teeth, perfectly shaped and getting her missing the patterns of her breathing. 

From there, the tension between them seemed to grow more and more and the emotions blooming up from this atmosphere were screaming louder than words, intensifying not only their desires but also the other feelings coming to their surface. It was like throwing alcohol in a bonfire. And it’s certain that the flames were getting higher and higher.  They tried to focus one more time on whatever they were doing now (neither of them cared to understand exactly what it was), Shawn a lot more lost than her, already writing things that weren’t even about anatomy, he thought. 

“Nope!” She says again.  Erase, wipe the dust, explain again. 

The clock is ticking. 

“Shawn, no.”  By now, he was finishing his third glass of grape juice and she had completely given up on her cake. Fork hitting the plate aggressively as she bends over the cold marble to repeat her actions. Shawn rubs his face and runs his fingers through his dark curls.  Erase, wipe the dust, explain again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell are you doing?” If she was patient before, she’s not losing her shit for fucks sake. “Vulva is this external part, not the inside. The internal part is the vagina, down here in this entrance, see?” She’s pointing with his pencil and circling the spots with caution, because otherwise she might rip the page apart. Shawn drops his arms against the island and tilts his head to meet the hard surface, hitting his forehead and his sighs turns into a deep growl. 

Erase, wipe the dust. 

“God! Have you ever seen a pussy in your life?” He freezes in place and doesn’t get up, hoping she’s going somewhere else with this question. “Seriously! C’mere, I’ve got this kind of a plastic mould and you’ll touch this shit until the information gets inside your head somehow.” She stands in her feet and she knows that she’s being kinda rude. He doesn’t care, he knows he’s not going anywhere if she keeps on being all nice and shit but at the same time he’s so nervous that he wishes he could stay in that kitchen for the rest of his life until his problem goes away.  “I don’t really-” His voice comes out muffled by the white marble under his face.  “Mendes, you’re coming whether you want it or not!” She grabs his arm and pulls him off his seat. “I told you I’d help you and you know I won’t stop until I get my work done. Come on!”  He seizes the last seconds where his face is still hidden to smile. He loves how much she cares about him now and it seems to vanish away all of her impulsive attitudes before. She just wants him to succeed and once she gets a goal inside her mind, she ain’t stopping until she makes it happen.  Shawn gives up and she’s practically dragging him upstairs to her bedroom, steps punishing the degrees under her feet. 

“Get yourself comfortable, I’m gonna find this thing.” She says as if he even could. Shawn falls in her bed while she turns the lights on and goes to her shelf, eyeing all the spaces where that mould could be hiding into.  She tiptoes across her bedroom and checks every part of it like her life depends on it. 

Wardrobe? No.  Drawers? No.  Desk? No.  Under the bed? No.  Bookshelf? No. 

If the bedroom was even larger, she’d be running a marathon across it and the way she’s walking with powerful footsteps and picked up rhythm makes the hem of her robe swing and get loosened, sometimes showing the back of her thighs a little bit more and gradually exposing her chest.  And if Shawn felt like dying before, now he’s sure that he’s floating between heaven and hell so quickly that he can’t do anything else but widen his eyes in desperation, fight his own mind and press down on her mattress for dear life. “You can’t think like that. She’s your friend, she’s not a piece of meat. Control your damn hormones.” He whispers to himself and closes his eyes. He doesn’t want her to think that he’s just another one of those stupid classmates of theirs or some kind of a weirdo who acts like he had never seen a semi-naked body before.  Although that yes, he had never.  Y/N might be cool about talking of sex and stuff, but he managed to just nod and agree. He never told her he was a virgin and something about the way she messes with him so easily makes him feel like organising a whole speech – in the most polite way ever – about how much he wants her to teach him everything: where to touch, how to touch and what to do to have her feeling not only relaxed in his presence but also pleased. If he only had the braveness, he’d be on his knees right now divided between begging for mercy or for a chance. 

She closes the last drawer where she guessed the plastic cast could be inside of and turns around with her hands covering her mouth. Shawn looks at her concerned expression and concludes that she’s thinking, considering how fast her eyes are running across the room. 

“Y/N, you don’t have to. It’s okay, I can find some other way...” Shawn tries to calm her and she tugs some strands, pulling them back and then dropping her arms down. She can’t think of anything else than this and she knows she might be taking a risk in here. She steps backwards to close her door and it gets Shawn frowning, gasping and blinking rapidly. What the hell is she doing? 

If he could’ve only guessed that some dreams can come true sometimes... 

“Mendes, don’t freak out, okay?” She looks at him worriedly and his grin is filled with doubts. He thought she was joking about his study routine or whatever happened a few seconds ago. But when he sees that her face ain’t changing to something more playful, he gulps once more. “You’re gonna have to do this in anyways in the final exam and, since you can’t even name things correctly, there’s no other way to do this. Tell me if you don’t wanna do this and I’ll stop.” She finishes and grabs the knot of her robe. In one fluid motion, she undoes it and the black fabric is pooling down around her feet. Right now she’s not thinking about her crush on him, she’s not trying to get him moaning her name. No. She’s trying to get anatomy inside his head because she’s been there before and she knows that, if he touches the wrong places, Sally is definitely not going to give him any other chances. There’s no dirty in here, there’s no seduction. She’s offering to a test just like she offered her veins once; or like when he let her feel his temperature and see if his throat was sore.  “What are you doing? Y/N, seriously...” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Cover up, you don’t need to do it for me.”  “Is that what you want? I’ll do if you’re feeling awkward on doing this,” She reassures him and catches her robe from the floor. “But I want you to know that I’m okay with it. It’s totally up to you.”  Shawn can feel his limbs turning into cold stones and his leg starts to shake uncontrollably. He feels like someone just threw a ball on fire to him and he knows he’s got the opportunity to put the fire down. He just doesn’t know how.  “C-Can you... like...” He rubs his face, still not looking at her (who’s covering her front with the robe now) and tries to make a smart decision. “Get under your covers so I... can... t-touch you without looking at you?”  “Is this going to make you feel more comfortable?”  “Y-Yes.”  “I’ll try to guide you then.” 

An inconvenient silence takes over the place and it had never been so annoying. He gets up, turning his back to her and she goes under her blanket, trying to feel less unsuited.  “Hold on. I’ll wash my hands before... you know...”  “Second door to the right.” 

A few minutes later, Shawn is back and not so afraid. She looks at him and sees that his hairline is wet, he might probably had splashed some water on his face before returning.  “Are you okay?” She asks, feeling her chest heaving in concern.  “I’m good,” He closes the door with his foot and keeps his hands in the air, away from any object. “Sure you wanna keep going? You don’t have to-”  “I’m sure,” She nods and he sits at the end of the bed. “With that I’m even feeling like a real patient now.” She points at his hands with her chin and chuckles bending her knees. He follows her and giggles too. He can’t even believe how amazing she is, he feels like nothing in this world can gift her enough for being this good to him.  “You can, like, start from my pubic bone and then you can say what you remember, you know?” She incentivates him. “When you get to touch those parts we were seeing down in there, you’ll tell me what it is and what is it for.”  He nods and she shifts her body up closer to the headboard, making some space for him to come forward and slip one hand under the blanket.  “Don’t you want me to wear gloves?”  “I’m out of gloves in here but I don’t really mind.” She says and he’s just going with her flow. “Showed you my exams before the tests, so you also know that I don’t have anything you should worry about.”  She’s giving him so many reasons to leave his nervousness behind that he’s feeling like he’d forgotten for a moment that, on top of it all, they’re still friends. They’re not strangers. They should count on each other and this is what she wants him to do, this is what he wants her to do.  “Go on, I trust you.” Her sweet tone reaches his ears and he smiles at her, so happy to know that she’s there for him and, more than anything else, she sees in him a person that she can trust. It’s just priceless.  “And I trust you,” Shawn responds and she smiles back at him, feeling more comfortable against her pillows. “Excuse me.” He asks before touching her and she nods in confirmation, allowing him to go on. Shawn knows that this is not his body, so he must have her approval and excuse to touch her.  His palm is softly sliding along the expansion of her shin to her knee and inner thigh, looking her deep in the eyes, attentive to any sign that she’s not liking it so he can stop. He wants to show her that he doesn’t wanna hurt her or do something harmful, so he rubs his thumb from side to side, caressing her and showing that he’s being so careful. She looks at her own ceiling, trying to keep her breathing calm and remain herself that she suggested it, so she must stay true to her pure intentions and leave her dirty thoughts locked and forbidden.  He reaches the spot she told him to look for. He stops moving when he gets there and waits for her to give him another permission.  “What’re you touching?” She asks.  Shawn gets it as a chastise and lifts his hand up, widening his eyes. She slips her arm under the blanket and places it back to where it was, making him gulp and miss a heartbeat.  “I’m not asking you to leave, Mendes,” She laughs. “I’m asking you what’s this specific spot you’re touching right now. This is still a test.”  His eyes are still wide as ever, comprehending her words and looking for the answer in his mind.  “The pubic mound... Okay...” He answers more to himself and tries to remember the words she made him take notes about. “It’s... a fibroadipose tissue that stays on top of the bone and it divides into the labia majora on either side of the pudendal cleft.”  “Very good,” She praises and he smiles, actually wanting to scream in happiness for answering correctly and in tension, because her words made his nerves sparkle somehow. ‘Just breathe’ he says to himself as a mantra. “You can feel it if you want to.”  The tips of his fingers press lightly against it, choosing random spots to feel and then he lets go of it. He can read about it in the books where his gravity is going to be centered.  “Should I keep going?” He asks.  “Yes, please.” 

Oh God, not please.

Both of them getting a type of disquietude after this word in particular.  She didn’t mean to say it, she knows that ‘please’ doesn’t even fit correctly to the moment but somehow it escaped from her lips nearing a state of beg. She couldn’t let him know. This is still forbidden.  He swallows harshly and moves down slowly, almost reaching his next stop. 

“Okay, stop.” She says and he immediately stays still. “I’m gonna ask you something very embarassing but necessary.”  “...Alright?!...” Shawn eyes her with concentration, trying to understand if he did something wrong at any point.  “Lick your finger before touching this next spot,” Unable to look him in the eyes, she asks and covers her face. This makes him comfortable to remove his hand and lick his index finger before she can see him doing it. “You shouldn’t do this to your patients, but I’m very sensitive and when it’s all dry it might hurt a little.”  “Okay,” He gets back to where he was before and sets his hand back down on her. “Was I here?”  “Yup,” She says popping her ‘p’. “You can touch it now.���  His touch is now wet and cold, making her shiver slightly and it glides easily. She removes her hands from her face but keeps her eyes shut to focus on not getting wetter than his finger.  “Clitoris.”  “Nope.”  “No?”  “Try to remember about the first time I yelled at you downstairs.”  “Oh, alright.” He tilts his head down and laughs to himself. His finger is moving so delicately that it’s nearly tickling her heat. She shifts her ankles further just a little so she can see that flushy face of his, eyes now looking up as he tries to find a blank spot where his sight can help his imagination to picture what it looks like as he touches her. “Clitoral foreskin? Clitoral hood?”  “Hood is better.”  “Fine,” He grins. “It’s a mucocutaneous tissue that covers and protects the clitoris. It can fully cover the clit sometimes, but it also can just partly cover it.”  “Thought you’d never get it right, not gonna lie.” She confesses and he moves his pretty greenish eyes to look at her, and she finally reciprocates.  “Thought you trusted me!”  It’s so good to interact as they typically do. It’s so good to feel more normal and less awkard. The two of them could now feel their bodies relaxing and free to get back to joking and playing. Nothing’s really planned for ages before acting, it’s just natural. This is what they were looking for.  His cold calloused finger goes down shortly and she lets a sigh fly from her lips, instantly biting at her bottom one. She writhes sparsely, trying not to do what she’d normally do if they weren’t studying.  “Clitoris? Is it here?”  “M-hm.” “Erectile nub placed at the top of the vulva. It has around 8.000 nerve endings and blood supply. Would you mind if I see it?”  She shakes her head in denial and grabs the cover up to reveal her lower half, making it rest on her stomach.  Shawn takes his finger away for a moment to see the little nub and memorize where it is. He thinks he’d never seen something so beautiful in his life; he never thought it’d look this beautiful.  Totally compelled, he licks his digit again and touches her clit, differently from before. Now, he’s softly drawing tiny circles around it and she accidentaly moans lowly. The tip of his finger is sliding so deliciously that she couldn’t even notice the time when she showed such weakness.  “If you keep doing like this, you’re gonna turn me on and-”  “How sensitive is it?” He cuts her off and, to be honest, he wasn’t even listening. All of his concentration got directed to her clit, now swelling under his control.  “What?”  “How sensitive is it? With so many nerve endings, it must be really delicate. Isn’t it?”  She’s not quite understanding.  Shouldn’t he know this already? Or was he one of those guys who never finds a clit during sex?  “It’s sensitive enough to get me excited,” She warns but it’s not like he’s giving a single damn right now. “But if you press it hard, then it’ll hurt me bad. Like... you can add a little bit more of pressure...”  And he immediately does, watching the way his finger works carefully but performing firmly now. She exhales strongly, trying so hard not to lose her shit.  “A little bit more...” She demands and he obeys. Where is this going? She can’t answer herself now that this feels so good. His touch rounding her clit, sometimes going from side to side and he takes his time feeling all the extension of it. “Don’t go further than this, otherwise it’ll only harm me.”  This amount of pressure was just perfect for her taste. Shawn doesn’t even know about this, but he keeps going and he even leans closer to see it better. Now there was no hell, it was just heaven. Heaven in the way her face contorts everytime he hits the center of her clit; heaven in the way her chest is moving up and down, trying not to lose the pattern of her respiration; heaven in the way her eyes squinted – but no completely – peeking at him with some struggle. He stops eyeing her heat, saving the last information he got from it and looks at her, eyes practically dark.  “Let’s move on to-”  “Can I put my mouth on it?”  Her jaw falls.  Such a question she didn’t know she needed to hear today.  She knew she wanted to, but never knew she needed it so bad.  “Are you asking to eat me out, Mendes?” For a minute there, she thinks she’s dreaming. Dreaming wildly. She promptly supports her body on her elbows and tosses her blanket away from her body.  “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry,” It’s like a force pushed him back to earth. He felt so intoxicated by her that his attention flew out to somewhere else. “I’m such a-”  “Do it.”  “What is it?”  “Do it,” She insists. Can’t miss the chance, can’t have him going back now. Not now. “You want it?” He nods kind of desperately. “Then show me what you can do.” She tilts her head to the side and smirks at him. His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. Jesus Christ, she can get him around her finger so easily that he feels lucky that he was the one to get her around his finger previously. But how is he supposed to do this?  He decides to get started by kissing the inner part of her leg, planting wet kisses along her smooth skin and it feels so satisfying to have her skin exposing goosebumps under his touch. He’s getting closer and she sighs so sweetly that he’s hoping he’s doing the right thing.  The scent of her is driving him crazy, he can’t wait to know the taste.  “I-” He starts that old speech of explanation. He doesn’t want to but he feels like he needs to be honest with her and tell that he’s still a virgin. Lost and anxious to find himself. Find her.  “I know. I’ll guide you, don’t you worry about that.”  She’s just perfect. There’s no better definition inside his mind right now. He’s the opened book she loves to devour every single page of, absorbing the details and letting herself get immersed. She arranges her body on her bed to give him more space to lay down on his stomach and between her parted legs. When he finishes his trail of wet and hot kisses, she stands in one shoulder as her other arm goes to reach his brown curls that she loves so much.  “You can kiss it first,” She directs him. “See what it feels like against your lips and oh,” She moans because he wasted no time on licking his lips and kissing her clit. “G-Get yourself used to it, take your time to adjust yourself, no need to hurry.” But she didn’t really mean that. She does need the hurry, ‘cause she might collapse from this torture at any second.  Shawn tries the kissing, doing it from her clit and covering every inch of her lower lips then going back to the smaller ones. Over and over again, until he gets kinda bored. He wants to make her squirm like she said before in the kitchen. He wants to put his daydreams to a proof as quick as possible.  “You’re so wet,” He notices and is unaware of the effect it had on her. Her glistening pussy is inviting him and he wants to live in this for the rest of his days. He knows he has no experience, but this time, he doesn’t wait. He sinks his head down on her and his tongue is flattening against her heat to lick a stripe from her entrance to her clit, covering her with his mouth in order not to miss a single inch. And fuck she tastes so fuckin’ good. Nothing compared to his imagination.  “Oh my God,” Another moan slips out and she drops her head backwards, gotten my surprise. “That’s it...”  He embraces her thighs and her ankles are now resting on his back. His head buries in her pussy and she returns to look at him. It’s the best view in the world. Cheeks flushed and eyes closed, looking so serene and enjoying the taste of her like he never did with anything else. Shawn pulls her hips closer to him, growing hungrier and obsessed with this moment.  “Shawn!” She calls out and giggles, thinking that he’s also in the mood to play.  Not now.  “How hard can I suck you?” He pulls away, not going very far just to breathe and ask her.  “Hard enough to show me how bad you want me, not hard like a crazy animal would probably do.”  He groans against her heat and frowns in what he thinks it must be suffering. How can she get him so fragile to her? He feels his head spinning and she hasn’t even touched him back yet.  “What are you doing to me?” Shawn whispers, thinking out loud. He drags his tongue up and down against her boldly, mixing the wetness of his tongue with her wetness and it’s slow, painfully slow. She tugs his hair when she feels that tingling sensation down on her entrance and it spurs him on to try his first suction.  He does, giving her the best job he could do for the first time in his life.  “Close your mouth a little and suck harder.” She recommends and he promptly does. His lips are wrapped around her bundle of nerves as he licks her before, tongue gliding in circles and he’s keeping his tongue relaxed, what makes her see stars with this pleasant sensation. It’s so smooth and so tender that she’s afraid she’s going to pass out from the pleasure. He tries sucking for the second time and earns the perfect reaction from her: toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of her head and she gasps, body giving up against the mattress. She feels her clit throbbing and the way he sucks it is pushing her over the edge. It’s wet, it’s warm and so precise. “Fuck Shawn, fuck!” Her lungs are supplicating for air and she makes a good effort to look down at him again – eyeing her through his eyelashes – and, although he’s still finding a way to please her, he knows he’s being good, so he gives her a devilish smile. “Keep doing like this, baby, don’t stop...”  That’s it for him.  He tries to suck her again. It’s long he’s deliberately repeating series of suctions, having her crying out in her bed and arching her back. He tests it harder and faster and her hands instantly fly to grab his curls. Her moans are gradually turning into frantic screams and she’s trembling. Shawn Mendes never imagined he could get his friend shaking hectically with his mouth on her heat, sucking and licking her with his whole body and soul. His member is so hard inside his sweatpants but he doesn’t care, as long as she’s enjoying it, then he didn’t need something more. And he thinks she looks impossibly prettier with her beautiful lips parted to free her whimpers, sometimes smirking down at him to tease him; hair getting messier than her body quivering and being stopped by his large hands, caressing the sides of her waist and traveling down to the sides of her bum and legs, holding them forcefully so she wouldn’t escape from his touch.  “Shawn,” She gulps before moving on, throat dry from moaning uninterruptedly. “Pull away, I’m gonna come.”  With her clit gently tugged between his plump red lips, he shakes his head from side to side in denial lazily and it’s a new sensation to her, so so so good that her vision gloes blurry. Shawn just revealed himself not only stubborn in his studies but also in bed, and she’s so eager to dominate him like this...  He remembers about all the things they should be studying right now and maps her core to find her entrance with his index finger. Just as she taught him, he licks the digit and thrust it inside of her as soon as he finds it, bringing his mouth back to her clit to suck rapidly as his finger moves slowly. She fights back a loud scream, covering her mouth as she feels her pussy aching deliciously, searching for its release.  “Can you take two?” Shawn feels her walls squeezing his finger and doubts that she can keep another one.  “Yes, please.” She says through gritted teeth and it’s good to give this word the real meaning she wanted to give before. He pushes another finger into her and she moans once more, she doesn′t know how long she can wait. He thrusts the fingers so gingerly, not sure about what to do and what pace to pick. Was he hurting her?  “You’re so tight...” He comments so innocently, he thought that it wouldn’t be this constricted. He starts to imagine how heavenly his cock would feel hugged by her dripping pussy.  “Mendes,” She says under her breath. “I need you to go faster.”  “Like this?” He picks up his rhythm shyly.  “More.”  His digits are covered in her juices and moving with ease. She feels that knot on her stomach tightening and about to explode.  “More.” She begs and broken sobs are slipping past her lips. He goes deeper, fingers completely disappearing inside of her. “Right there! Oh, right there,” He finds her spot and her eyes roll to the back of her head once more, making Shawn dig the nails of his free hand into the skin of her thigh and suck at her bundle of nerves as fast as his fingers are working now. “Do it like this.” She can’t raise her hand right now to show due to her weakness but Shawn’s eyes are quick to find her fingers moving in a ‘come here’ motion and he immediately gives it to her. He can’t comprehend exactly where he’s taking her, but when she stops moaning and her legs starts shaking, he understands it. She’s feeling every inch of her core pulsating as her orgasm washes over her body and he can’t believe he just made her come. His fingers are slowing down and he pulls his mouth away, looking at her body coming down of her high. He removes his fingers slow and carefully and gives one last lick, catching what she released, and one last suck, her back arching for the last time.  He waits for her to settle down and get back to her senses before doing anything else. And when she does, she glances at him and silently invites him to come closer.  “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” She taps his strong chest as he crawls over her, knees supported by the mattress under her parted thighs and upper half covering her front. He must be kidding.  “Not really...” He vents, embarassed but glad that he provided her something nice. “But did... Did this just ruin what we have?”  “I honestly couldn’t care less if it did,” She spits out and he fears her next words. “I couldn’t fucking wait to have you like this since the very first day we spoke.”  “Would it be weird if I told you I feel the same way?”  “Nope. But that’s something you can save for later,” She pulls him by the shirt and pecks his lips, savouring the taste of herself on his lips. “I wanna make you feel good first. What do you think about that?”  “Glad you finally asked.” 

[radianhazbin]

Do you believe in Love on first sight?

A sharp pain. Pain, she never felt before in her life. She tried to scream for help, but it was too late. The knife slit through her thin skin, the few muscles and lastly, through her trachea. She tried to scream, but with every attempt, just more and more blood shot out of her throat. She went to her knees, desperately trying to keep her vital liquids inside her, with her right hand. She tried to grab her attacker with her other, but without any luck. He punched her hand away, and countered with another thrust of the knife. This time in went into her left eye. The pain she felt was like nothing she ever felt before. She tried to desperately scream for help, but no one heard her. No one came. 

I will die. 

She thought. The girl closed her only eye that she had left and hoped for the sweet release of death to come soon. She released her grip from her throat, and let the blood run out. 

Please. End this suffering. 

She prayed.

Moments later, she stopped to feeling the pain. She stopped to feel anything. Her head sunk down, and fell to the ground. Everything went black. 

There was nothing. She saw nothing. She heard nothing. She felt nothing. 

But then, a crash. Everything was still dark, but she began to hear loud conversations all around her. She felt the hard, course surface she was laying on and the smell of rotten flesh in the air. 

She slowly opened her eyes, just to feel another sharp pain in her left eye socket. The 

women slammed her hand against the source of the pain, just to notice something unusual. She slowly moved her fingers over the location, where her eye should be. She felt two, overlapping scars, that where forming a cross. 

"what the fuck?", she whispered to herself. 

"Oh hello."

She heard a high pitched, female voice above her. The girl slowly lifted her head up from the ground, and spotted a beautiful young girl right in front of her. She was around the same age as herself, and had thick makeup in her face. She was looking down on the woman. 

"My name is Charlie!", she said, while stretching out her hand, to help the young girl standing up. 

"Where am I? What is this place?!", the girl demanded to know, while grabbing Charlie's hand. 

"Well, how do I say this?", Charlie crossed her arms behind her back, and wiggled back and forth on her heels. "You're in hell!", she answered happily, with a big smile. 

"What?!", the girl screamed out. "this can't be. No, this isn't happening… Fuck!", the young woman grabbed her head, and stumbled around. 

"Don't worry, it isn't so bad here. I have to know, I lived here my whole life!", Charlie assured the girl. 

"you're whole life?", she asked confused. . 

"Well, yeah.. Lucifer, well, he is, you know, he's my father.", Charlie answered cheerfully. 

"Wait, Lucifer? The fallen angel? But if you're his daughter that makes you-"

"yeah, yeah, princess of hell, I know.", Charlie interrupted her. 

The girl looked at her in fear, while stumbling backwards. 

"What do you want from me?", she asked with a shaking voice. 

"I saw you on the street, and assumed that you would either be a newcomer or a passed out drunk. I just tried to be nice, I'm sorry.", Charlie admitted, with a hanging head. 

The girl was surprised. Did the princess of hell, daughter of lucifer, just apologized to her? 

"Uhm, no… No Problem. I'm sorry. My name is Vaggie, and you're right, I am a newcomer. Just died.", she said with a voice crack, trying to cheer the demon princess up. 

"well, then welcome to hell!", Charlie celebrated with wide open arms. 

"Uhm thanks.", Vaggie replied, still a little uneasy. 

"Oh, don't worry, you'll love it here! We have drugs and booze, all a sinner could ask for!", Charlie explained happily. 

"I just died because of a drug deal gone wrong. I won't touch this stuff no more. This could be a new beginning for me.", 

Charlie inhaled deeply, her grin grew from ear to ear. 

"Is everything okay?", Vaggie questioned. 

"Yeeeeees!", screeched Charlie, "hey, do you want to eat something? Come on, let me show you around!"

"I mean, sure we can whoaaah! -", Charlie grabbed the newcomer at her wrist and dragged her with her down the street. 

What's wrong with this girl?! 

Vaggie asked herself. 

If she's telling the truth with her heritage, shouldn't she be more… Threatening? She's less of a demon princess, and more like an overly excited cupcake! 

After a few blocks of dragging, they stood in front of an small building. The bright red DINER sign, that rested on its roof, illuminated the street and people beneath it. Charlie moved up the two steps, and opened the glass door. Vaggie followed her inside shortly after. The door slammed shut behind the two girls. 

“Good morning! I’ll take a coffee and some pancakes, and my friend here can have whatever she wants!”, Charlie enthusiastically told the bartender. 

“Uhm, I think I’ll take a just a water for now.”, Vaggie ordered shy. 

The bartender was a tall, sweaty taurus demon. Around twice as tall as Vaggie or Charlie themself. He nods with a grunt, and turned around, to prepare their meal. 

Meanwhile, the two girls walked around in the shady room. Demons sat in the chairs around them. Some were eating, some drinking, many were drunk or doing drugs. But not a single one of them even looked at the girls. After a bit of searching, Charlie found an empty table at the far side of the small restaurant, where the girls settled down. 

Vaggie started the conversation: “Say, if you’re the princess of hell, shouldn’t these guys like, bow down or something? Or at least recognise you?” 

“No, they won’t.”, Charlie stated, with a hanging head. She exhaled some air, before continuing to talk, “I may be the heir to the throne, but that title is worth next to nothing down here. I have no special rights, no special treats. And, then there's the thing, that, I’m not the daughter, my father wants me to be.”, A tear ran down Charlie’s eye, which she quickly wiped away, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tell you this, we just met, and what kind of an impression does that make?”, Charlie chuckled a bit. 

Even though, she was still very confused, Vaggie felt bad for the girl sitting opposite of her. 

“Hey, don’t worry, I mean, my father never liked me either. So I guess we’re even in that.”, Vaggie tried to cheer her up. 

“Thanks, but, I feel so selfish right now. Alright-”, she wiped the tears away from her face, and took a deep breath, “calm down Charlie”, she whispered to herself, before looking up again, “So, Vaggie, how do you like hell so far?”, she questioned her with a big smile on her face, that felt somewhat off. 

“Well, so far, I’ve met pretty nice people here, despite it being hell.”, she replied with a smile.

“Wait, but you’ve only met me so far-”, Charlie broke up her sentence herself, when she realized who Vaggie was talking about, “Ohh, thank you!”

“Haha, no problem Charlie! Hey, but, uhm. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure thing!”

“Why were you so happy, when I told you, that I would stop drinking and doing drugs?”, she questioned.

“Oh well, it’s a stupid idea I have, no big deal.”, Charlie tried to dodge.

“Oh come on tell me! It sounds interesting!”, Vaggie insisted.

“Okay, okay.”, she readied herself up, then proceeded to explain: “Well, we down here have a small problem with overpopulation. And so far, my father simply killed off many poor souls, to keep space for everyone. But I simply can’t see my people being killed off every year, again and again. I’ve lost many friends because of that. So I had the idea that, instead of killing them off, I would instead rehabilitate them! I know it sounds stupid. But if it works, I can safe so many souls, who would otherwise be dying in the streets.”

“And where do you want to rehabilitate them? Just here on the streets?”

“Of course not! I managed to get my hands onto a hotel, just on the other side of the town. I will send them there, and then, I will help them!”, she further explained, “that’s why I was so happy, that you wanted to change your ways. You’re proof, that not every demon inherently evil.”

“Oh, no no. I’m not a demon.”, Vaggie explained.

“Uhm, Vaggie, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re in hell. Everybody is a demon.”

“Really? I don’t feel like one!”

“I can assure you, you are. Why do you think your hair got so long all of the sudden, and that your eye got replaced with an X?”, Charlie told her with a smile.

Vaggie hesitated to answer, at first. She didn't even really listened to her. Her thoughts were somewhere else. 

Was her smile so cute the whole time? 

She thought to herself. 

“Well… That sucks.”, she admitted. 

“Oh, it’s not too bad! I’ve been a demon my whole life, and I’m feeling great!”, Charlie jumped on the chair, and swung her arms wide open.

“HEY! Get the fuck down from the chair! NOW!”, a deep voice screamed at her. It was the bartender. He was standing right next to them, with their order in his hands. 

“Sorry, hehe”, Charlie apologized and climbed down again.

The taurus demon grunts again, and threw the order on the table, before turning around and leaving again. Charlie took the fork, and impaled one of the pancakes.

“Do you want some?”, she asked Vaggie, while holding the flat cake in front of her.

“Oh no, thank you. I don’t want to eat something away from you.”, she refused.

“Don’t worry! It’s too much for me anyway. Here, we can split.”, Charlie shoved the plate with the food in the middle of the table. 

I can’t remember the last time someone wanted to share something with me.

Vaggie thought, before grabbing one of the pancakes with her hands, and biting a piece out of it. 

“So, what do you think?”, Charlie asked while chewing on her own pancake.

“It’s great! Thank you!”, Vaggie responded. 

The two girls smiled at each other, while eating their meal. After they had finished, Charlie left some money on the table for the taurus, and they both left the restaurant. 

"Where do we go now? What is a usual day down here?", Vaggie asked. 

"Well, most people take drugs, get drunk or fuck around. Literally.", Charlie responded. 

"Wow, the f-word out of such a cute mouth? Didn't expect that.", Vaggie said, smiling. 

"Oh, shush!", Charlie's cheeks got red, when she heard that. 

They both chuckled a bit, before Charlie continued the conversation: "Well, I know a nice park, not too far from here. If you want to, we can go there." 

"Sounds great.", Vaggie responded smiling. She wasn't interested in the park itself. But that women had something on her, that Vaggie couldn't describe. 

They walked down the street, and the newcomer looked around. All around her, were demons. Vaggie was a little creeped out, and kept herself close to Charlie. 

Soon they arrived at the park, where they sat down on a bench together. 

"This feels so odd.", Vaggie whispered to herself. 

"What feels odd?", Charlie asked. 

"What? Oh just, all of this. Hell, meeting you, it all just feels so weird. Like in a fever dream."

"Well, sorry to hear that. But I can imagine. Suddenly a new life, some girl who you never seen before wants to go on a date with you-" 

"A what?", Vaggie interrupted her surprised. 

"Did I say date?! I meant going to eat dinner together! Not a date! Haha, why would I go on a date with you? Hehe", Charlie chuckled between the words, while nervously playing with her fingers. She didn't even looked Vaggie in the eyes. "I mean we're both women, wouldn't that be odd?" 

"Well, I've been on multiple dates with women on earth.", Vaggie explained. 

"Wait, you guys can do that?", Charlie questioned confused. 

"Of course. You guys can't? I mean we're in hell. I wouldn't expect someone being gay is anything odd down here.", Vaggie explained. 

"Well it isn't, but my father, you see… it… It's complicated. I mean, I myself can't even sort my feelings out!", Charlie began to get louder, "I mean, I obviously like guys, I even had some boyfriends in the past, but, then, some girls grabbed my attention too! I just don't know what to feel anymore! And my stupid father hated when I brought a women back home!", tears began to roll down Charlie's face,"he said, that no princess of hell can be gay! But what if I am, dad?! What the fuck if I fucking am?!", she slammed her fist on the empty seat next to her, while out of a few tears formed many. 

She started sobbing, while her head slowly, went down. Through her wet eyes, she could see, how they fell to the ground, when suddenly, she felt something around her shoulders. It was Vaggie's arm, that had hugged the young princess. Charlie was dragged closer to the newcomer, until her head rested in Vaggie's chest. Charlie replied the gesture, and hugged the girl back. Now, her emotions knew no borders. She let everything out, that hat piled up over the years. 

"He was only ever happy with me, when I was a child! After that, I was never good enough. Never! When I told him about my idea, he rejected it. Said I should do something useful with my life.", she sobbed. 

Vaggie stroke her soft, blond hair, and kissed her softly on the forehead, which finally brought a smile to Charlie's face. The crying girl slowly lifted up her head, and looked Vaggie in her eyes. 

"I'm sorry, Vaggie. Not all demons are a crybaby like me. I'm sorry for-" 

"Stop.", Vaggie interrupted her, with putting one finger on her lips, "no more sorry. No more apologies. Let out, what you need to let out, okay? I'm here for you.", she explained, while wiping away some of Charlie's tears. 

"Thank you.", Charlie said under her breath, "hey, can I show you something? It isn't far from here.", she asked. 

"You can take me anywhere you want, Charlie.", Vaggie replied with a smile. 

The two girls stood up, and walked not far. Charlie lead Vaggie through the park, still crying a little bit, but soon they arrived at a small bridge over a river. Charlie rested her arms on the bridges railing. 

"I always come here, when I feel sad. Which, with my family, is quite often.", she chuckled.

"It's beautiful.", Vaggie stated, while looking down at the shining, blue water. 

Charlie turned her head away.

"Your parents never said anything, when you brought women home?", she asked. 

Vaggie rested one hand on her shoulder. 

"I never told them. My father was a strict Christian. And I was drug addicted and gay. I never told him anything.", she said. 

"And your mother?" 

"Died when I was eight. I never really knew her much." 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Vaggie.", Charlie apologized. 

Vaggie rested her arms on the young girls shoulders and smiled at her. 

"What did I tell you about apologizing?" 

Charlie smiled at that answer, and decided to ask a question, she wanted to ask Vaggie the entire day. 

"Vaggie. I know what I'm about to tell you is ridiculous. But", she breathed in deeply, "Do you believe in love on first sight?", Charlie looked Vaggie deep in her eyes, with a serious stare, "you know, when two people just love each other without any reason, even if they just knew each other for a few hours, you just know that… You love this girl, and want to spend your whole life with her." 

Vaggie looked back a Charlie and smiled. 

"Yes.", she said, and slowly moved her head forward. She grabbed Charlie's head with both hands and buried them deep into her golden hair. She then proceeded to press her lips against Charlie's. 

Charlie closed her eyes, hugged Vaggie, and let her emotions free. But this time, it wasn't sadness it was love. 

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

Hope you like it! 

Happy Varlie week everyone! :)

[citrinekay]

Alright since it was just recently Jonathan Groffs birthday could we have one where maybe it’s Holden’s birthday I don’t care if there’s fluff angst or all of the above let your writing creativity run wild!

I went with a little bit of both! Enjoy💕

At just a little past five, the sun is already setting over the distant, gray outline of the Beartooth Mountain range. A flurry of snow gusts against the long row of windows that line the backside of the Independence, Montana precinct where Holden is hunched over his desk, typing up his notes on the newest crime scene. 

He’s so intently focused that he doesn’t hear anyone approach until Bill says, “You almost ready?”

Holden glances up sharply to see Bill standing over his own desk a few feet away, gathering up his things. 

“I’m almost done with this.” Holden says, then checks his watch. “It’s not quite five-thirty. What are you in a rush for?”

“Nothing. We just can’t do much today since we’ll have to wait till tomorrow on that warrant.” 

“Okay. This will only take me another ten minutes.”

“Okay.” Bill says, his tone casual despite the flicker of impatience in his eyes.

Holden frowns, and goes back to typing his notes. Fifteen minutes later, they’re both wrapped up in their winter coats, and facing the bitter wind as they cross the street to their car. 

Back at the hotel, Holden assesses Bill from the corner of his eye while they wait for the elevator. He’s not usually one to take an early day or complain about long hours. Holden knows this case is tiring, not only as far physical evidence goes, but also with the weather working against them and the constantly fading daylight of winter hours. Maybe he’s just exhausted.

“What are you going to do tonight? He asks as they step into the elevator. 

The doors slide shut, and the elevator lurches into motion. Bill leans back against the wall with a shrug. “Order room service, get a shower, hit the sack.”

Holden nods, and musters a smile. “Yeah, me too.”

He doesn’t like to say aloud that he misses their alone time when they’re on a case because that would sound incredibly selfish and also a bit foolish. They have a job to do, and just because they’re seeing each other now doesn’t mean he gets to monopolize all of Bill’s spare time. 

They part ways in the hall, and Holden strips out of his work clothes to collapse on the bed. He orders room service - soup and a sandwich which are both mediocre - before getting a shower and sprawling on the bed again. The television plays re-runs of sitcoms and the evening news along with a weather report on the incoming inclement weather conditions, none of which interest him. 

Bored and lonely, he thinks about masturbating, but doesn’t quite feel like taking the effort. He’d have rather stayed late at the precinct working than try to entertain himself through the evening. In the back of his mind, another reason for his disappointment niggles, but he smothers it knowing very well that it’s just as foolish as his longing for Bill’s company. 

Half an hour later, he’s drifting off out of pure boredom when a knock on his door jolts him wide awake again. Sitting upright, he frowns at the door, then shoots a glance at the clock. The hour is creeping closer to eight, and he doesn’t know why anyone would be knocking on his door at this time of night. 

The knock comes again, and Holden climbs off the bed to get to the door. Pressing his eye to the peephole, he sees Bill standing in the hallway. He has a square box balanced in his hand and what looks like a bottle in the other. 

Holden’s heart seizes, first confusion and then building excitement. He pulls the door open, and leans against the door jamb. 

“Hi.” Bill says, struggling to keep a smile off his face. 

“Hi.” Holden says, regarding the cardboard box and the bottle of wine curiously. Though he already has a pretty good idea, he asks slowly, “What is this?”

“Can I come in?” 

Holden leans back from the door, allowing Bill to carry the box and the bottle into the room. While he arranges both items on the desk, Holden shuffles across the room with his arms folded. 

“Is this what I think it is?” He asks, “Because you really shouldn’t have.”

Bill turns to cast him a smile. “Yes, it is. Come here.”

Holden feels his face growing warm as he creeps sheepishly to Bill’s outstretched arm. Bill catches him around the waist, and drags him closer to plant a kiss on his cheek. He reaches down to flip the lid of the box open, revealing a round cake decorated with little pink and purple flowers and icing calligraphy spelling out: Happy birthday, Holden. 

“Surprise.” Bill murmurs. 

“Oh my god.” Holden says, trying to sound irked. “What did you do?”

 “Happy birthday, baby.” Bill says, silencing the protest with a kiss. 

“Since when did I tell you it was my birthday?” Holden asks, leveling Bill with a narrowed gaze. 

“You didn’t. I got into your personnel file.” 

Holden purses his lips over a growing smile. “How long have you known?”

“A couple months. I would have planned something more extravagant, but I figured we wouldn’t be in town.”

“More extravagant?” Holden echoes, his eyebrows rising. “This is too much already.”

“Too much? Holden, you’re turning 30. This is kind of a big deal.”

“Ugh, why do I want to be reminded that I’m turning 30?”

“Stop your belly aching.” Bill says with an amused smile. “I know you want to try this cake.”

Holden casts a longing glance at the cake, and sighs. “I actually really do.”

Bill chuckles. “And the wine.”

“And the wine.” Holden agrees. 

Holden stands back with his arms folded as Bill cuts two generous slices off the cake, and uses the corkscrew on his pocketknife to uncork the wine. He’d also brought a grocery sack with forks, napkins, and plastic cups that he pours the wine into. 

“Sorry we don’t have any real glasses.” He says, passing one off to Holden.

“This is fine.” Holden says, taking a sip of the wine. “I haven’t ever really had a birthday party.”

“What do you mean - ever?” Bill asks, casting him a curious frown. 

Holden shrugs, trying to pass it off nonchalantly. He had planned on sliding past his thirtieth birthday with little excitement or acknowledgement, but Bill had other ideas; and Holden is too caught off guard to lie about it. 

“Ever? Bill repeats, turning to pin Holden with a dismayed gaze. 

“Well, my mom is Jehovah’s witness.” Holden says, “My dad not so much, but he didn’t really have time to argue with her or plan birthday parties because he worked so much.” 

“Jesus.” Bill says, jabbing a plastic fork into Holden’s slice of cake, and nudging it into his hands. “I respect people and their faith, but robbing a little kid of a birthday party - that’s a little cruel.”

“That’s not how she saw it.” 

Bill catches Holden’s gaze just before it drops down to focus on the thick layers of icing on the cake. Holden draws in a deep breath, and cuts into the cake. 

He hadn’t really expected something as silly as birthday to get to him. He’s never considered it before. Maybe it’s a sign that he’s getting to the age where people get to ignore birthdays purposefully or joke that they’re always turning 28. People expect that callous attitude from someone past 30, but he’d never gotten to experience the happy side of celebrating another year of life. 

“Hey.” Bill says, softly. He leans to catch Holden’s lowered chin between his thumb and forefinger, and guides Holden’s gaze up to his. “That ends right here.”

Holden gives a choked laugh. “Bill, it’s okay, really. It was totally normal for me growing up. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Fine. Are you okay with it bothering me?”

“Yeah, be my guest.” 

“Well, then it bothers me.” Bill plants a kiss on Holden’s mouth, and leans back so that their noses are still brushing when he adds, “I appreciate you, and every single year I get to be with you.”

Holden blinks, his eyes suddenly stinging with tears. He holds Bill’s gaze as long as he can, until he feels that admission crawl into his chest and scatter like devastating shrapnel. Setting aside his plate of cake, he wraps both arms around Bill’s neck, and kisses him hard. 

Bill’s plate gets discarded alongside Holden’s as the kiss deepens, and Bill’s hands travel down his body to claim his backside. He hoists Holden’s feet off the ground, and Holden wraps his legs around Bill’s waist as Bill turns toward the bed. He carries Holden across the carpet in a few hurried strides before they tumble to the sheets, entangled in a clinging embrace. 

Holden quickly forgets his tears no matter how joyful. He’s too busy reveling in the feeling of Bill’s hands all over him, his touch climbing into Holden’s willing body and working him open until they can meet at the deepest point. 

Pinning Holden on his belly, Bill crawls between his legs, and thrusts inside slowly, deliberately. By the time Holden comes, his body is open and raw with sweet friction, and his skin is singing from Bill’s hands touching him all over and his mouth leaving burning hickeys down his nape and shoulders. They collapse to the sheets, breathless and satisfied. After several minutes of relaxing and catching their breath, Bill gets up for a washcloth. When he’s done wiping them both down, he brings the wine and the cake to the bed. 

“Five bucks says we can eat this whole thing tonight.” He says, putting the box on the sheets between them. 

“Seriously?” Holden asks, biting back a grin. 

“Yeah.” Bill says, reclining against the pillows with his plastic cup of wine balanced on his chest. “You’re not up to the challenge?”

“No, I think we definitely can.” Holden says, “But we still have to go to work tomorrow. You just fucked me within an inch of my life, and now you’re going to pump me full of chocolate cake and red wine. How am I supposed to function?”

“I don’t know.” Bill says, a roguish smile tilting his mouth. “But it’s your birthday, and I think it’s what you deserve.”

Holden chuckles, and leans over to slide his fork through the corner of the cake. He pops the bite in his mouth, and closes his eyes shut with a satisfied moan. 

“Good?” 

“Really good.” Holden says, slipping his eyes open to peek bashfully at Bill. “I feel like I’m doing something sinful.”

Bill’s eyes glint deviously. “I’m corrupting you with chocolate birthday cake and wine. What would your mother say?”

“Oh, she’d be horrified.”

Bill leans over to dip his fork into the cake. He swallows down the bite, and licks icing from the corner of his mouth. “Any more horrified than the thought of me fucking you senseless?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d say it’s pretty equal.” Holden says, casting Bill a coy smile. 

Bill laughs, and leans around the cake to press a sloppy kiss to the corner of Holden’s mouth. “Christ, if she only knew.”

“You’re terrible.” Holden whispers, turning his mouth into the kiss. “You’re going straight to hell.”

“Fine, but only if I can take you with me.”

Holden traces his fingertips down Bill’s cheek, sobering as a warm satisfaction disperses in his chest. He’s never felt quite this sinful or alive, and no amount of childhood conditioning to believe otherwise could make him question just how good it feels. 

“What?” Bill asks, softly, seeing the solemn look in Holden’s eyes. 

“I just … thank you for this.” Holden whispers, lowering his forehead against Bill’s cheek. “This sounds dumb, but-”

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

“It didn’t bother me when I was a kid - not having a birthday.” Holden says, “But, I always knew I was different, everywhere I went. My family moved a lot, and it always felt like just as I was settling in and finding friends, we left again. Not having a birthday party or not being able to attend other kids’ made me feel like even more of a weirdo than I already was.”

Bill leans back to study Holden’s downturned face, a worried frown knitting his brow. 

“I haven’t really ever felt like I belonged anywhere.” Holden says, slowly lifting his gaze to peek up at Bill. “Not until now … with you.”

Bill’s mouth trembles with a faint smile. “Good. I want you to be happy.” 

“I am.” Holden murmurs, “Really happy.”

They share another slow kiss, and Holden feels the weight leave his chest. He’s done feeling guilty about them, about cake, about birthdays, about everything else that’s ever made him feel like an outsider. If he’s going down in flames, this is exactly how he would want to go.

[go-gently-please]

cherry ~ vampire!au (part 3)

~ pairing: human!BTS x vampire!OC

~ genre: vampire!au, smut, angst, sprinkles of fluff

~ summary: life with the seven boys proves to be more complicated than you thought, and you struggle to combat your selfish desires along with their advances.

~ warnings for this chapter: profanity, blood, subby Jimin, fellatio, dirty talk, mentions of BDSM

~ a/n: i’m not super happy with this chapter, but i really hope you like it. please tell me what you think, i would love to see how i could improve :)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 (coming soon)

links in masterlist!

You’d decided that it’d be best to take a break from Jimin. It wouldn’t be difficult, considering that there were six other perfectly good men to choose from, but it was clear early on that Jimin wasn’t about to make things easy for you.

You weren’t sure if it was on purpose, but he had started wearing more revealing clothes, ones that accented his collarbones and showed off his muscular arms. The elegant dips of his neck and chest were always fully on display for you.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew something was bothering you. Ever since you ran out of his room, leaving him sitting there looking like a kicked puppy, his mind had been plagued with dark thoughts of doubt and self-deprecation. These thoughts only multiplied when you continued to ignore him.

You’d gone three whole weeks without feeding on him, which was unusual since your sweet tooth made Jimin one of your most popular choices. Out of the seven of them, you fed on Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook the most.

Jimin immediately assumed that he was the problem. He must’ve done something wrong, must’ve upset you somehow. Was it his blood? Did it not taste good anymore?

The thought of his blood disgusting you made Jimin’s stomach lurch.

He tried confronting you, but every time he asked you simply brushed it off, claiming that you just “weren’t hungry anymore.”

He knew that was bullshit. Your pupils had been so dilated that your eyes were almost black. You’d looked like a panther ready to pounce.

You felt bad for ignoring him, especially because it was Jimin. He was the most needy for praise out of all of them. That was one of the reasons why you had a soft spot for him.

After feeding, you would always shower him with pets and compliments, telling him how good he tasted, how sweet he was. Jimin’s face would turn that pretty mochi pink, his head ducking away shyly like a turtle in its shell.

You loved the way you could make him crumble. Jimin’s flirtatious nature made him come across as confident, maybe even cocky, but once you praised him, he would melt into a gooey mess of blushing and giggling.

So, naturally, ignoring him was one of the worst things you could ever do. But it had to be done...right?

“Charlie?” A soft, tinkling voice made you look up from the cutting board.

Jimin stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, looking casual and slightly sleepy in a grey cap and sweater. He was barefaced, letting you see the faint spots and freckles on his glowing skin, his eyes free of any makeup.

You wanted to squish his cheeks and tell him to skip class that day to stay here and cuddle with you instead.

“What?” You forced your voice to come out harsh, slicing through the air and creating an immediate, palpable tension. Yoongi, who was sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee, looked between the two of you like he was about to witness a cat fight.

“I was just wondering if you were free later this afternoon?” He sounded so hopeful, speaking in a low tone as if he was afraid you’d snap at him.

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for you and the boys to hang out one-on-one. You would often go out for coffee, peruse around a bookshop, or sometimes they would tag along while you ran errands. Nevertheless, the question made you snap your head up to stare at him.

“What?” You said sharply.

Jimin visibly gulped.

“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to that new cafe during your lunch break. I know you wanted to check it out.” He said.

You were endearingly surprised that he remembered. Looking back down at your cutting board and continuing to chop spinach, you pretended to sound disinterested.

“I’m probably going to end up skipping lunch today. It’s been really busy at work lately. Maybe next time.” You mentally cringed at how blunt you sounded.

Jimin’s shoulders sagged.

God, I am being such a bitch.

“Okay…” He said sadly, turning to leave you alone.

Yoongi eyed you up and down as you started to arrange the spinach and eggs on a plate.

“Did Jimin do something to you?” He asked.

You glanced at him very briefly.

“No, why would you think that?”

“Because he’s sulking and you’re avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him! I’ve just been busy, that’s all.” You pushed the plate towards him and crossed your arms.

“Can you eat the whole thing for me?” You said, gaze softening with the question.

Yoongi raised an annoyed eyebrow.

“First of all, I hate spinach. Second of all, would you stop pestering me, please.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just...you’re so skinny.” You said as you squeezed one of his bony arms.

You felt like an old witch preparing a child for the boiling pot, fattening them up with sweets and sugary words. Here, little boy. Eat up so you can become nice and tender. Would you like to be served with butter or gravy?

You were just worried about his health! Every time you fed on him there was always the concern that he might faint in the middle of it.

“Trust me, Charlie, I eat plenty.” Yoongi insisted.

“Yeah, but how much of that is pure garbage?” You said. 

He didn’t have an answer for that.

“Why are you so hell-bent on this?” He whined.

“Because I don’t want to have to worry about you collapsing every time I suck you!”

He quirked an eyebrow.

That came out wrong.

“Every time I suck your blood.” You corrected.

The sound of the clock chime broke you out of your thoughts, which may or may not have turned inappropriate at the mention of sucking. You sighed in relief, glad to have an excuse out of this conversation.

“Gotta go.” You grabbed your bag and hurried to the door.

“Finish that!” You called back over your shoulder, pointing at his breakfast.

“I’ll think about it!”

~~~

You weren’t really busy at work. That was a lie. Actually, you kept the place running rather smoothly. You were good at your job, you had to be as the person in charge. As editor in chief of GENIUS magazine, you held the highest position in the editorial department.

Today was a particularly slow day. Your afternoon meeting had been canceled, which opened up the bulk of your schedule. You were absentmindedly wondering what you’d have for lunch when your phone buzzed.

12:54 — Hobi: hey :)

An instant smile crossed your face.

12:55 — You: hi sunshine

The three tiny dots appeared and disappeared several times. You smirked, picturing him blushing at your nickname and fumbling for the right words to say.

12:57 — Hobi: you free for lunch?

12:58 — You: you just read my mind. Where do you wanna go?

12:58 — Hobi: that new cafe that you were talking about?

Wow. How do they all remember these things about you?

12:59 — You: sounds good. Meet you there in fifteen minutes.

You killed time by scanning over some of the articles for the next issue. After glancing at the clock, you gathered up your coat and bag, walking through the glass doors of your office.

“I’m going out to lunch with a colleague. I’ll be back in an hour to talk with the associate publisher.” You announced as you passed Melody’s desk.

“Okay, boss.” She replied.

“You know, you don’t have to call me boss.” You said with a crooked grin.

“I know. I just do it to tease you.”

The corner of your mouth quirked as your eyes ran over her. She was wearing a cute little pencil skirt that accentuated her petite frame. Not that she was super skinny, her build was medium, but she was a tiny person. She had short legs and was barely five feet tall.

Melody was very sweet and gentle, always right by your side, ready to do anything in her power to help you. She had an innocence about her that was almost childlike.

You were very fond of her.

The walk to the cafe was short. It was only five minutes away, that was why you’d been so eager to check it out. Hoseok was already there waiting for you when you arrived. He was sitting at a table by the window, wearing an oversized sweatshirt with his black face mask pulled down to his chin.

At the sound of your heels, he looked up from his phone. His face broke out into that beaming heart-shaped smile, making your lips immediately curl up in return.

“Hi, Noona.” He said cheerfully.

“Hey, Hobi. How's your day going?”

“Good! Even better now that I get to have lunch with my favorite vampire.”

“I'm pretty sure I'm the only vampire you know.”

“Mmm irrelevant.”

The waiter came, and Hobi ordered a sandwich while you ordered a coffee and a slice of strawberry cake.

“Skipping right to dessert, I see.” He said as you picked up your fork, licking your lips.

“Of course. My main course is still eating his lunch.”

A blush flowered on the plump apples of his cheeks. Yet, he still managed to flash you a sly grin.

“I guess I better hurry up then. Wouldn't want to keep my favorite vampire waiting when she so clearly needs me.”

Hobi smirked.

Something about the way he said it, the way he claimed that you “so clearly needed him,” made something in your stomach jump. He was suggesting that you needed something from him? Cocky little bastard.

Hoseok was...interesting. He was a little bundle of energy, that was true, a total ball of sunshine, but he challenged you in a way that none of the other boys did. He wasn’t afraid to poke and prod and push your buttons. It was almost like he was trying to see how much he could get away with, how much authority he could get you to give up.

You saw the way he treated the other boys, too. He was one of the older ones, so he had a natural air of dominance, especially over the maknae line. It wasn’t uncommon to see him ordering them around, jokingly manhandling or threatening them to get them to submit to his little games.

He was definitely different, you thought as you sipped your coffee, leaving behind a stamp of red lipstick on the rim.

“Nom nom nom.” You said around a mouthful of food, closing your eyes in bliss.

Hoseok chuckled, making you divert your attention away from your plate.

“What?” You asked with your cheeks stuffed.

“I can’t get over how you put off a badass vibe when you’re actually goofy and adorable as fuck.” He said in amusement.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse you, I am a badass.” Your voice was sarcastic as you puffed your cheeks out even further, trying to give yourself a cute appearance.

Hobi laughed.

“You’re still a badass, of course. You’re just adorable as fuck while being one.”

Despite your efforts to suppress it, you blushed. When was the last time a boy made me blush?

Looking satisfied by your reaction, Hobi returned his attention to his food.

You bristled, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically small in his presence.

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” You said in a voice that would’ve made Jimin and Jungkook shiver and comply immediately, but only made Hobi smile wider.

“Oh, did I strike a nerve?” He teased you.

You pursed your lips together, trying to fight another rush of heat to your cheeks.

“Your face is heating up. Was it something I said?” Hobi quirked an eyebrow.

Leaning back in your chair, you exhaled as you stared him down.

“You better watch yourself, boy. Do I have to remind you who’s in charge?” You tilted your head to the side in mock confusion.

“Boy?” He said, challenging the title you’d just given him.

“I am hundreds of years older than you.”

“I don’t believe that, you don’t have the personality of a century-old great great great grandmother.” He said with a playful smile.

“Of course I don’t. We adapt to the times. It’s how we stay hidden. Don’t you think it’d be a dead giveaway if I still spoke like a character in a fucking Shakespeare play?”

He scoffed.

“Please, you weren’t alive at the same time as Shakespeare.”

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t.” You said as you nonchalantly sipped your coffee.

“How old are you anyway?” He asked, genuinely curious.

You gasped, putting your hand over your heart in exaggerated shock.

“Villain! I am sick when I do look on thee. Don’t you know to never ask a lady her age?”

Hobi rolled his eyes.

“Thou crusty batch of nature! The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes!”

“Alright, you’re being dramatic.”

“Zounds! You rogue! You rascal!”

“Now you’re just quoting Othello.”

“Away you three inch fool! More of your conversation would infect my brain.”

Hobi sighed deeply, giving up.

“Finish your cake.” He said.

You smiled in victory, popping a strawberry in your mouth.

~~~

You slid another square of chocolate past your lips as your eyes scanned over the outline board. This was your second bar; it sat there on your desk with the gold wrapper peeled back, curling around the edges. You just couldn’t seem to satisfy your craving for something sweet.

Sighing, you picked up your phone to try to distract yourself.

2:42 — You: hey yoongles.

2:44 — Yoongi: afternoon, charles.

2:45 — You: whatcha doin?

2:47 — Yoongi: editing. You? Working hard, I presume.  

2:48 — You: ugh. Trying to. This one copy editor is pissing me off.

2:49 — Yoongi: describe them, exactly.

2:50 — You: bitch. Grade A bitch. You’d hate her.

2:51 — Nice. I love hating people.

You chuckled to yourself. Yoongi always managed to make you feel at ease.

2:53 — You: I made you lunch and left it in the fridge. Did you eat it?

2:55 — Yoongi: it had spinach in it.

2:56 — You: Yoongi!

2:57 — Yoongi: yessss?

2:58 — You: EAT LUNCH.

2:59 — Yoongi: I DID.

3:01 — You: CRACKERS AND ALCOHOL DOESN’T COUNT.

The three dots appeared and disappeared.

3:05 — Yoongi: I don’t like spinach.

3:07 — You: you don’t like anything.

3:08 — Yoongi: I like sleep and you.

A big goofy smile crossed your face. Coming from him, it meant a lot. He even put you in the same category as sleep, which he valued almost more than air.

With a newfound fuzzy feeling in your tummy, you set your phone down and tried to get back to work.

Pacing back and forth in front of the editorial board, tapping a pen on your chin, your analytical mind churned and ticked like a whirring machine on full power.

A soft knock came at your office door.

“Yes?” You called.

Melody shyly stuck her head in.

“Darling, I’m in the middle of being fantastic, can it wait until later?” You said.

“A package came for you.” She said, blushing a bit at your nickname.

You averted your eyes back to the board, waving your hand dismissively.

“Just leave it on my desk.”

You didn’t see as Melody responded with a curt nod, disappearing back into the hall to return a few moments later with her arms full.

Instead of cardboard on wood, you heard the crinkling of wax paper. Puzzled, you turned your head. Instead of a box, a big, beautiful bouquet of bright red tulips sat on the tabletop.

You looked at Melody with confused eyes, but she only smiled knowingly and ducked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Approaching the vibrant bundle, you picked up the card tucked between two of the buds.

Have a nice day, Charlie. Hopefully I was able to make it a bit better.

— Jimin

You read it over three times. Staring unbelievably at the vibrance of the flowers, you stroked the petals, plush and soft against your fingertip. This must be what his lips feel like.

You immediately shook the thought from your head.

He is such a sweetheart! He went through all this trouble for me? And here I’ve been ignoring him for the past three weeks.

A surge of vicious guilt stabbed you in the gut. You cursed at yourself for believing that distancing yourself and turning into a frigid bitch would solve anything. The only thing it did was hurt Jimin and leave you hungry.

Suddenly rigid with determination, you hurried to gather your things.

“Should I block off the rest of your day, then?” Melody asked as you stormed out of your office, your face masked with the purposeful expression she knew so well.

“Yes, please.” You said as you adjusted your jacket. “I’ve gotta get some shit done.”

“Okay, I’ve penciled you in for one day of excess drinking and general ass kick-ery.”

You smiled at her.

“What would I do without you?”

~~~

The front door slammed. A dozen different shopping bags hung from your arms, most of them filled with groceries.

Jungkook was sitting on the couch, controller in his hand, eyes glued to the TV. When he heard you come in, he looked up and smiled, showing his adorable front teeth.

“Hey Charlie.” He greeted.

“Hey bunny.” You set the load on the kitchen counter.

“What's for dinner?” He asked, popping up from his seat to inspect the contents of the bags.

“Beef and veggie stir fry.”

It was Jimin's favorite.

“Jimin's not here, right?” You asked.

You wanted it to be a surprise. After being so mean, you were determined to make it up to him. You’d planned something special, and after he’d had his dinner, you would have yours.

Just the thought of it made you lick your lips.

“No, he's got a class tonight.”

You nodded, excitement bubbling as you set to work chopping vegetables.

Just as you were finishing up, you heard the front door. Jimin came into the apartment, hair damp with sweat, workout clothes rumpled. He dropped his dance bag by the door and inhaled deeply.

“Stir fry?” He called out after identifying the scent.

“Hi Chim!” You said cheerfully as he stepped into the kitchen.

He blinked. You'd barely even acknowledged him in the past few weeks, let alone called him by his nickname, and he was a bit taken aback.

“H-Hi Charlie.” He said as his cheeks flushed. You flashed him a pearly smile, outlined in freshly-applied red lipstick.

“Hungry?” You were in the dining room now, setting the table.

“Ye-Yeah, just let me shower first.”

Once he was gone, you grinned to yourself.

Perfect. You’d snuck up to his bedroom right before he got home and placed one of the shopping bags (a Chanel bag, to be precise) on his bed.

You were just about to set the last bowl on the table after tidying up when you heard footsteps pattering down the stairs.

Jimin was fresh out of the shower, fluffy hair hanging in front of his eyes. He was wearing a soft white sweater; the symbol on his right lapel was two overlapping, back-to-back red C’s. Even with the designer piece of clothing, Jimin’s smile was by far the prettiest thing he was wearing.

You remembered every word of the note you’d written him, you could picture it nestled in the folds of the tissue paper.

Jimin, I’m sorry for being so cold to you lately. It wasn’t your fault. Thank you for the flowers. You always make my day better.

— Charlie ♡

Heart fluttering at the memory, you busied yourself with distributing the silverware. After everyone was seated around the table, you started to pass around the rice.

“So, Charlie, tell us about the eighteenth century.” Hoseok said with a teasing look in your direction.

“Is this your attempt at making dinner-appropriate conversation?” You replied, swirling your tongue over a cherry-flavored lollipop.

Jimin was watching your every move with hawk-like intensity. You were perfectly aware of how he gulped and clenched his jaw every time your lips wrapped around the red orb, and you were deriving a great amount of pleasure from it.

“What were you doing in the eighteenth century?” Namjoon asked, genuinely curious.

“Hell if I know. I spent half of that century in an opium den. And the other half saying “what the fuck is happening?” When you've been alive for as long as I have, the years start to jumble together. Like, one time back in 1904...or was it 1914, wait what year is it now?”

Everyone rolled their eyes and gave up on trying to get any coherent information out of you.

Once everyone was finished eating, everyone but you, obviously, the table was cleared. You were about to load all the plates into the sink when Jin stopped you.

“Don't worry, we got it.” He said with a wide smile.

You glanced into the kitchen to see Namjoon, Taehyung, and Yoongi starting on the dishes.

“Are you sure? I can do them if you—”

“Come on, Charlie. You cook almost every meal. Let us do this for you.” Jin said, putting a warm hand on your shoulder.

The small gesture sent your whole body tingling with heat.

You and Jin got along very well. He was tidy, something you appreciated, and you both valued hard work and organization. You would think that the two of you would get along partly because he was the oldest, but Jin was one of the most childish out of the group, along with Taehyung.

Not to mention he was devastatingly handsome. It was very distracting.

“Alright, thank you.” You said, proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

He nodded, flashing another radiant smile, and patted you on the back.

You turned towards the living room, eyes searching for one specific person.

“Jimin.” You called, causing the boy to snap his head up to look at you.

“Yes?”

You beckoned him towards you with one finger, and led him to the screen doors that opened out to the balcony. He eagerly followed behind you as the two of you stepped outside, night air sweeping past your faces. The light filtering through the windows plus the twinkling stars illuminated the wide space. You walked past the fire pit up to the patio table against the railing.

The building towered over the city, overlooking the skyline, glittering against the sea of lights. The view only added to the value of your top-floor apartment.

“Did you like your gift?” You asked.

He nodded vigorously, smiling so big his eyes turned into two thin crescents.

“Thank you.” He said.

“Don't thank me yet, there's more.”

Coming up behind him, you placed one hand over his face.

“Close your eyes.” You whispered, your mouth right by his ear, close enough to kiss.

You felt his lashes flutter against your palm as he obeyed, smiling to yourself as you felt a shiver run through his body.

Jimin felt the cool touch of metal against his skin. Once you'd permitted him to open his eyes, he saw that you had fastened a silver YSL necklace around his neck.

His mouth fell open. First Chanel, now Saint Laurent?

“Like it?” You asked.

“Y-You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to, Chim. It’ll make up for the way I’ve been acting lately.”

His gaze was locked on you as you stepped closer. You and Jimin were the same height, so your eyes were perfectly level. Even so, your commanding energy often made you seem and feel taller, especially if you were wearing heels.

“Now that you’ve had your dinner,” You began, reaching up to stroke the smooth slope of his neck.

“Can I have mine?”

You were expecting Jimin to blush, to shrink under your piercing stare, but to your surprise, his mouth twisted in a smirk, looking at you through hooded lids. Instead of those big brown puppy eyes you were so used to, he regarded you with a sultry, sexy expression.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you to ask me that question.” He said, his voice low and resonant.

You smiled.

“Come here.” You said.

Jimin obeyed. Taking his hand, you pulled him over to one of the patio chairs and pushed him down. You climbed into his lap, straddling him.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stay away from you.” You muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear, staring at the bulging veins in his neck.

“Then why did you?” Jimin asked. You could hear the slight hurt in his voice, making your throat contract with guilt. Your gaze lowered, avoiding his eyes, as you swallowed hard.

“I...I didn’t want you to think this was turning into something it isn’t.”

He stared at you, then looked down with disappointment clouding in his eyes.

You gently held his chin, tilting his head up to look at you. Fingers tracing the line of his jaw, you ran your thumb over his plump bottom lip. His mouth felt just as you predicted, soft as rose petals. You sat there playing with his lips, rubbing, brushing, feather-light, tugging them between your fingers.

There was that blush you were looking for. Jimin’s gaze was focused solely on your face, looking at you like you were the only other thing in the universe.

“If this isn’t what I think it is,” He said. “Then why are you doing that?”

With your breath quickening, you abandoned his mouth to slide your hand down his neck.

“Because I’m selfish.” You muttered.

“No you’re not. You’re the most giving person I know.” He replied immediately.

You just smiled weakly, shaking your head.

“If I was smart, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

But you didn’t stop. You ran your hands over his shoulders, pulling the sweater aside to reveal more skin.

Jimin paused, studying you.

“Who says you always have to be smart about everything?” He said.

That made you look up.

“When was the last time you did something because you wanted to?”

He was looking at you hopefully again, the puppy eyes were back. Jimin had such a sweet face, you wanted to smother it in kisses until he was completely covered with your lipstick.

After a moment of consideration, you made up your mind.

You leaned forward in your position on his lap, hands drifting down to glide over his back. You dragged your long red nails up and down, making him shudder.

“If I did, what would you want me to do to you?” You asked.

Jimin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“I would want you to kiss me.”

You quirked an eyebrow.

“Is that all?”

“Anything more is up to you.”

He was right. Jimin wasn’t going to push you. You were the one who cut him off, if things were to go further it had to be your decision.

Your hands grazed down his spine, arms sinking low to cradle his body closer. Anticipation gripped Jimin’s limbs as he hung onto your every move. Slowly, teasingly, you angled your body over his, and moved to close the gap between your mouths.

He could still taste the lingering sweetness of the lollipop on your tongue.

All the tension corded in his muscles seemed to release as you melted into him, like sugar dissolving in water. He finally moved, as if he’d been waiting for permission, and kissed you back eagerly, gripping your waist and digging your hips into his.

The kiss was sweet, gentle, and hot all at the same time.

The pressure you exerted on him was light, barely enough to keep your lips connected. You wanted to tease him a bit, see how much it took to get him desperate.

Jimin chased your lips with his own, seeking friction, seeking you, but you denied him. Drawing back, you disconnected your mouths with a loud, wet sound that was more melodious in your ears than music.

You ran your tongue along his bottom lip.

Immediately, obediently, he opened up, granting you access. But you just continued to tease.

You traced the outline of his big, beautiful lips, sucking on the upper, taking the lower between your teeth and tugging until eventually letting go and allowing it to snap back into place.

Jimin sat there, motionless except for his heaving chest, eyes closed, with his mouth hanging open as you explored its every nook and cranny. The dip of his cupids bow, the sensitive corners, every swell and seam.

“You taste like fucking candy.” You sighed, brushing the lightest of touches along his jaw, then his cheek, then coming back to his mouth to seal it with a kiss, firmer this time.

This kiss was a mess of heat and desperation, all wet and sloppy.

Jimin’s hands slid up to creep under your shirt, drawing you closer by the small of your back. He was gasping now, fighting for breath while still refusing to break away from you. He moaned against your mouth when you rolled your hips on his growing bulge.

Your hands were tangled in his hair, tugging on it like you knew he liked, drawing out more strangled noises of pleasure.

At the sound of a particularly wanton moan, you pulled back, making him whimper at the loss of contact.

“Don’t stop.” He whined, eyes still closed as he leaned forward, trying to find you.

You placed a hand on his chest to keep him at bay. He finally looked at you, a confused expression on his flushed face.

“Are you sure you want this?” You asked. “Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

The last thing you wanted to do was to scare him. It was no secret that vampires were natural predators, and that ravenous energy often translated into more...intimate aspects of their life. In all your years, you’d only met a few vampires that took on the role of submissive, and you didn’t consider yourself to be one of them. Of course, you liked to be dominated occasionally, but it took a very special person to be able to handle that position.

Jimin was gazing up at you with those wide, docile eyes. He licked his lips.

“I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

You smiled.

The panther and the prey. The lion and the lamb.

Something inside you snapped. Snaking your hand between his legs, you palmed him through his jeans.

Jimin tensed, screwing his eyes shut as his head fell back.

“You’re already this hard just from a kiss? Dirty boy…” You teased, rubbing him with more friction.

Jimin bit his lip to try to keep in any noise.

“Is this all for me, hm? You get this worked up just for me?” Your voice was high and lilting.

Jimin could only manage a nod.

You chuckled to yourself, grabbing a handful of him and squeezing lightly.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.” You whispered, looking down at your hand as you continued to play with him.

“T-Touch me,” Jimin breathed out. “Skin to skin.”

You made quick work of his zipper, sliding the waistband down low enough to reveal most of his underwear.

“Can I take these off? I want to see those gorgeous thighs.”

Jimin nodded.

You slid off his lap, dragging his pants down with you until they pooled at his ankles. Settling on your knees, you leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his clothed dick. You ran your hands over his muscular, god-like thighs, and his skin immediately broke out in goosebumps.

“You want my mouth?” You asked.

He nodded frantically.

“Speak up, sweetheart. I want to hear you loud and clear.”

“Yes! Yes, I want your mouth. Please...please, Charlie.” He whimpered. Oh God, just the sound of his desperate voice was making you wet.

You hooked two fingers in the elastic of his underwear and yanked them all the way down. They joined his pants on the floor. Grabbing each knee, you spread his legs wide.

Jimin wasn’t super long, but he was thick, and you licked your lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He let out a hiss of relief.

“I like you begging.” You said, pumping him up and down. “Do it again.”

Jimin sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, jaw clenched. He was panting like a dog on a hot day.

“P-Please...please, Charlie. I’ve waited so long…”

“Have you now?” You purred.

“Ever since we first moved in.”

He was being far more submissive than you expected. Jimin was a tease, you’d known that for a long time, you were expecting a little more brattiness. Maybe he was holding back, giving you what you wanted. He was a sucker for praise, after all.

“You’re being so good for me.” You said, fondling his balls.

The small, shy smile that crossed his face made your heart flutter.

“Are you getting off knowing that anybody could walk by right now? That anybody could see you like this, all spread out and helpless.” You teased his slit to emphasize your point.

A choked groan caught in Jimin’s throat as he threw his head back.

“You’re such a needy boy. It must’ve been torture for you. Sorry I made you wait so long.” You said in an overly sweet voice, jerking him off at a faster pace.

Scooting closer, you leaned forward to lick a slow strip up the underside of his shaft.

Jimin let out a long, breathy “ooohhh.”

You wrapped your lips around his tip and started to suck him like one of your lollipops.

He was squirming now, clenching his fists at his sides, trying to control himself, trying to keep quiet. You were right when you said that anybody could walk by and see you.

Jimin moaned pathetically through pursed lips.

You released him with a pop, only to wet your lips and dive back down, taking his entire length. You bobbed up and down a few times, and then you heard something.

There was movement at the sliding door.

Moving faster than Jimin’s eyes could follow, you yanked his pants back up and shot to your feet.

Jimin blinked, disoriented, as Taehyung opened the sliding door and stuck his head outside.

“Charlie, Jin has challenged you to a game of Mario Kart.” He said.

“I'm a little busy, Tae.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Taehyung just sighed.

“Great, now I owe Jin ten bucks.” He said.

“What?” You replied, interest peaked.

“Well, Jin bet me that you would chicken out, so now I have to—”

“Where is the cocky bastard?” You snapped suddenly, stomping towards the door.

“He's on crack. The headass can't even beat Rainbow Road.” You mumbled.

Taehyung smirked in victory as you slipped past him, even Jimin was laughing at the situation.

Taehyung moved to follow you, but the obvious bulge in Jimin's pants did not go unnoticed by him.

~~~

You came to regret fooling around with Jimin after your head was clear. It must’ve been the guilt of ignoring him, or maybe the fact that you hadn’t been fucked in a while, whatever it was, it wasn’t right.

This realization only filled you with even more guilt. It wasn’t fair to Jimin, your inability to control yourself was only giving him false hope. You needed to come to a decision and stick to it. Either vow to be responsible and only treat him as a friend, or go with your gut and follow your desires.

Of course, you couldn’t make yourself come to a decision right away, so you decided to spend some time alone.

You were lounging in one of the oversized armchairs in your bedroom, fresh out the shower, sipping coffee, when your highly-tuned ears heard the doorbell ring from downstairs. Still in your bathrobe, towel wrapped around your head, you hurried down the stairs.

“I’ll get it, I’ll get it, I’ll get it.” You chanted as you ran towards the front door.

When you re-entered the apartment, your arms were full of pizza boxes. You set them down on the kitchen counter, all of them except one, and then skipped back up the stairs. Now that the boys’ dinner was taken care of, you had the rest of the evening to yourself.

You shed your robe, snuggled into your top-quality silk sheets, and opened your favorite show on your laptop.

You had to order a whole different pizza for yourself because the boys hated your favorite flavor: pesto and white sauce with spinach and mushrooms. Eh, guess you couldn’t blame them.

“Nom nom nom.” You mumbled to yourself as you ate practically half a slice in one bite.

The next few hours were pure bliss, just you, food, a glass of wine, and some mindless TV. You hadn’t done this in a while, since before the boys moved in.

Back when you lived alone, you didn’t have to worry about anyone walking in on you lying naked in bed (you liked the way the expensive silk felt on your bare skin), but now you had to make sure everyone was sufficiently occupied before you tried to go around without any clothes.

You were just about to top off your third glass when a knock came at your door.

“Hang on,” You called, slipping back into your robe.

Taehyung stood there holding a loaded laundry basket. He flashed you a boxy smile.

“Special delivery.” He said.

You chuckled, opening the door wider for him to come in.

“Just set it in the closet.”

He was slightly taken aback. You were very private about your bedroom, and none of the boys had ever seen the inside of it.

You ran a hand through your still-damp hair, turning towards the bed to wipe off the crumbs.

Seeing that you were serious, Taehyung hesitantly took a few steps inside, looking around in awe.

Since it was the master bedroom, it was twice the size of any of the guest rooms. A beautiful king size bed was pushed up against the center of the wall, the frame decorated with swirling gold designs and a mountain of pillows. One wall was entirely dedicated to a large set of shelves, stuffed full of books, leather-bound journals, and what looked like hundreds of vinyl records, all frayed and worn at the edges.

There was a desk crowded with papers and magazines and dirty coffee cups, a heart-shaped ashtray sitting on top of the clutter.

But the thing that immediately stole his attention was the wall unobstructed by any furniture.

It's entire surface was covered in photographs, not a speck of white was visible. Old Polaroids, faded prints, pictures that looked like they were taken decades ago, torn and yellowed with age.

Some of them had you in it, but they were mostly of other people, family members and friends and their children and grandchildren, they were all displayed proudly on your wall.

He saw pictures of weddings and funerals, reunions and holidays. There were a few recurring figures in the photographs, alternating between younger and older versions of the same face, but you always looked the same. No matter how far back the pictures went, you always looked the same.

Taehyung snapped out of it, tearing his gaze away from the hoard of memorabilia to take care of the laundry.

While your back was turned, you didn’t see Taehyung approach the closed door next to the desk, thinking it was the closet. You heard the wood creak, then the sound of the laundry basket hitting the floor.

Turning in confusion, you were about to ask what the matter was, but a gasp of pure horror instantly replaced whatever words you were planning to say.

The door Taehyung had opened wasn’t the closet. Yes, there were shelves and drawers and hooks, but they weren’t for storing clothes.

Taehyung stood there with his eyes blown wide, jaw dropped. He stared at the contents of the small room in pure shock.

Hanging on various hooks on the inside of the door were bundles of different colored rope, varying in texture and material. Underneath that was a rack of nothing but cuffs, leather, metal, fur-lined. There was a large set of drawers, transparent so you could see everything inside, that contained a wide assortment of vibrators, plugs, beads, rings, dildos, and every other toy you could think of. Hanging on the wall behind that was whips, paddles, leashes.

Taehyung could hardly believe his eyes.

Gags, blindfolds, harnesses. Everything he had ever fantasized about was right here.

“I-I...it’s not-I mean, y-you weren’t…” You could barely stutter out the words. You were mortified.

None of them were ever supposed to see that. None of them were ever supposed to know about all your kinky tendencies.

It felt like a nightmare come to life. This would ruin everything. Now every time he looked at you he would remember the mini sex dungeon you had in your bedroom.

Your face felt white hot. The silence rang in your ears. Every muscle in your body was stiff as a board as you waited for Taehyung’s reaction.

His face was unreadable as he reached out to touch one of the collars, the tag hanging from the leather strap detailed with the word Pet in pretty cursive letters.

“Have you used any of these on Jimin?” He asked suddenly.

Your eyes widened.

“I-what?” You watched with anticipation as he ran his fingertip along one of the leashes, a peculiar look in his eyes.

“I saw you with Jimin the other night. Have you used any of this on him yet?” His voice was surprisingly clear and calm.

Your eyes darted back and forth along the floor, desperately trying to string together a coherent sentence.

“We haven’t...we never…” You sighed. “No, I haven’t used anything on him. No one knows about this but you.”

You didn’t know, but Taehyung felt a swell of pride at that. He was pleased that he was the only one who knew about this side of you.

His eyes raked over your form, still in your bathrobe, making you fidget.

“Does it bother you?” He asked. “That I know this about you?”

“Well...it doesn’t exactly make things easier.”

He tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, something he knew drove you crazy.

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what you meant.

“How am I supposed to act normally around you now?” You replied.

He was staring you down with those dangerous eyes of his.

“I don’t want things to be normal between us.” He said.

Shit. There it is.

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Taehyung. No more games.” You commanded as you crossed your arms.

You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.

“Seeing you and Jimin together…” He began. “Made me think about all the feelings I’ve been having towards you, and it made me realize something.”

You shifted your weight to one hip, urging him to continue.

“I want you too.” He said.

Your heart jumped in your chest.

“I don’t care if you’re fooling around with Jimin, just as long as I can have you too.”

A heavy silence stretched between you, the only sound being the pound of Taehyung’s rushing blood in your ears.

You had to come to a decision now. Either reject him and establish your relationship as strictly platonic, or give in to the desires you’d been entertaining ever since you laid eyes on him.

It didn’t take long for one side of the argument to prevail.

Taking a few slow steps towards him, you let your hands fall back at your sides, your eyes slinking seductively.

You couldn’t wait to see how that collar would look on him.

“Well then, I guess I just added one more toy to my collection.”

~~~

a/n: thank you so much for reading! please tell me what you think and what i can improve on! next chapter will be focused on taehyung, hoseok, and jimin ;)

if you want to be tagged just let me know!

@rainbow-pandacorn @boononx @vannilacake @i-am-always-famished @oxymirror @bangttaeng @baekthecupcake​ @sleepysavya @kclaerhout @lilacbaby11​ @ceciann​

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 5)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. No idea how long it will be, but I’ve got time on my hands. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle. I’m thinking it will go the fluffy route, with some angst, and maybe some smut down the line. Not sure yet.

Section Word Count:  3,000

Section Warnings: fluff, angst, some R-rated language, Dean flirting/arousing/eating/breathing - the man needs his own warning label

~~~~~

Julie had done some reconnaissance before heading out her front door. She stared at Wes and Samuel’s backyard for some minutes prior. There was no sign of them. Samuel’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway. She figured she had a few minutes to take the walk around and past their corner house in safety. They wouldn’t assault her with questions about where she was off to, taking a stroll she never took in her neighborhood. And they wouldn’t ask what she had in that box she was holding so carefully.

This can’t end well, can it? Her thoughts of Dean were confused and irrational. She was going by pure feeling. And that hadn’t always proved the best course of action.

He’s too fucking gorgeous and too much of a flirt. Guys like that will usually sleep with anyone that tug at the bait. Her father had been that way. Handsome. Could have had his pick of any woman he wanted. And even though he’d one hell of a wife in her mother, he insisted on rutting with anything that came sniffing. Mom had finally had enough twenty years ago and divorced him. She would have taken him for everything she could, if he’d anything worth taking.

And, here she was, having just gone through an eerily similar situation with her now ex-husband… walking up the incline to Dean Winchester’s front door.

Maybe it’s genetic? I could blame this very bad idea on that. Tonight, that’s what I’ll do. She glanced around the side of the house she never saw up close. The cream-colored siding could use a power washing, but the front lawn was neat and tidy. Just like his backyard. There was no landscaping to speak of and the concrete driveway had seen better days. 

His Impala, seated on her throne yards away from the door, demanded the spotlight. The slick black paint shone more than usual. Julie wondered if he’d taken her through a car wash that day. Or maybe he’d washed her himself. Then, she thought about Dean wet and soapy, rubbing his body all over that car, hosing her down. Hose me down, Jesus. Her brain short circuited for a second.

I could turn around and head back. It’s not too late. I could just leave it on the step and text him when I get back home. The sky was turning a dusty pink with purple ribbons. 

No doorbell. The berry red front door teased and tested the outreached fingers of one hand as she balanced the dessert in the other.

She pulled her hand back. Eyes closed. Head tilted. There was a split second where she’d decided to leave. An immediate flash in her thoughts of Dean’s smiling face, those green eyes, those lips, overpowered her senses. She opened her eyes to the sound of her betraying knuckles as they rapped on the door.

You are not desperate. You are going after something you want.

She waited. Some time went by. An awkward amount of time.

Maybe it wasn’t loud enough. Maybe he’s in the shower. Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe this really was a bad idea. Oh God, what if he has a woman over?

She turned and darted down the small landing and got halfway across the walkway when she heard him. “Julie?”

She pressed her lids together in embarrassment, took a quick breath, and prepared to face the music that was Dean Winchester.

Damn. He was even more tempting than the last time she’d seen him. Surprise overtook his exquisite features. A blank expression gazed at her, open and waiting. His lips parted. Grey sweatpants and a cadet blue Henley draped over his frame. But fabric still hugged taut muscles and beautiful curves. She tried to regain her focus and stared at the ground by his... Shit, and he’s barefoot. Even his feet are fucking perfect. His toes wiggled on the concrete. Just take me now, Dean. She sighed and, realizing no part of him would be unattractive or neutral territory, returned his inspection.

“Is everything okay?” He looked past her onto the street and did a quick survey of the area around him. She nodded. His brow furrowed and then his gaze landed on the box in her hands.

“I made a cake.” Her arms outstretched. It was the only motion she could think to make at the time. “Thought you might want a piece.”

“Oh.” A small smile danced over his mouth in a wave.

She retracted the box back to her chest. “I should have called first. Sorry.”

“No. It’s more than fine. I just…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t deserve such special treatment.”

Have you looked at yourself? “Kind of selfishness on my part.”

He gave her that quizzical look again.

“Want to see how much you enjoy my dessert, up close and personal.” She quipped.

He licked his lips on instinct. “You’re giving me lots of opportunities to not behave myself with this mouth o’ mine.”

Jesus. “Is that a preemptive apology, or a promise?” She couldn’t help it. He brought out the flirt in her, full on. Her reaction was like a runaway train with no conductor at the controls.

His laugh was deep, sexy. “Come on in. I won’t apologize for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” He nudged the front door open with a bare foot and stuffed his hands into hidden pockets. A step back cleared the threshold.

She walked towards him. When she got closer to his figure, she had to look up to meet his gaze. Almost a foot taller, his presence made her feel small and vulnerable. The grin didn’t help to calm the sensations. He uses Irish Spring soap. She wiggled her nose at the clean, fresh out of the shower scent his skin exuded.

The house wasn’t much on the inside in terms of construction. But it possessed a style somewhere between mountain man and perpetual bachelor. All Dean. Dark paneled wood confirmed a 70s architectural build that had never been updated. The open living room and kitchen area felt smaller than it was because of the dim lighting. She squinted through her glasses. A floor lamp was on and near a muted, flat screen television atop a console table. Something was blowing up on the screen, flashing and illuminating the lived-in space. She stepped in farther. Her flats skimmed off a small area rug to tap onto wood laminate. Stale beer and spicy alcohol permeated the stagnant air in the room. She wondered again how much he drank on a regular basis. The front door click froze her in place.

He appeared at her side. “Let me.” His eager open hands waited. The box dropped into them. “Whoa. Heavy. What’d you make?” He strolled over to the breakfast bar along the edge of the kitchen. The broad shoulders got her all swoony. Bowlegs weren’t as obvious in the baggy sweatpants. The curvy ass, however, was quite prominent. He waited for an answer with an expectant look after placing the dessert on the counter.

“Oh. Just a white cake with chocolate frosting. Um, have you ever had a Tastykake Chocolate Junior?”

“More than likely.” He shrugged. “Convenience store grub was sustenance for many, many years.”

She filed that bit of information away for future dissection. “It’s a pretty spot on flavor recreation. They were my favorite growing up.”

“Should I slice it up then? See if it jogs my memory?”

She smiled. “That’s why I’m here.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Make yourself comfortable.” He pointed to the living room. “Move whatever you need to.”

Even the couch is covered in plaid. An open bag of chips occupied a spot where she guessed he’d been sitting. A couple beer bottles were on the coffee table. Again.

She debated on whether to sit on the armchair or the tiny lumberjack couch. There were some books and papers on the chair. She plopped on the empty side of the two-seater. The chips were placed on the table after a careful bag fold over. 

Her body shifted, ancy and excited. Should she do the relaxed, one leg folded under the other? How far of a tilt in his general direction? Had she dressed up too much? She tugged at the low-neck paisley peasant top she’d thrown on with her dark jeans. A finger wiped at the corner of her mouth, reminding her of the shiny gloss applied before she left the house. A faint cherry flavor hit the tip of her tongue.

Her gaze wandered back to him while she continued her inner debate on the best position. He’d gotten out plates and rested a rather long knife on the counter. His fingers lifted the box lid. “Oh, man,” he mumbled to himself. He reached in and pulled out the cake, his focus never leaving the treat. Her eyes widened when he grabbed the knife and flipped it in his hands like a skilled warrior. The blade slid into the cake without hesitation. He repeated the action three more times and then served the slices. His brow lifted and he looked over to Julie. “A cake like this deserves milk, but I’m fresh out. Water do? Beer?”

“Um, water’s good.” She was still getting over the display he’d put on.

He nodded, grabbing two bottles from the fridge and wedging them between his arm and side. He strolled over with a plate in each hand and offered one to Julie. The waters dropped on the table.

“Wow. You don’t play around.” She laughed at the enormous pieces he’d doled out.

“I do not… at least when it comes to dessert.” He settled into the seat beside her, thighs splayed out, encroaching into her territory. He pointed at Julie with the tines of his fork. “And, if you can’t finish yours, I will.” He leaned back and brought the plate to perch at his midsection.

She scooted back, deciding a cross legged approach would have to do to avoid brushing against him. The cake plate rested on her lap. Her gaze traced his body from his very close knee all the way back to his face. “You don’t even know if you’ll like it yet.”

He scoffed. “Please.” His grin turned playful. Yes, I could definitely stare at this man for an indefinite amount of time. “Ready?” He inquired with a side glance.

Her cheeks rose along with the wide smile she returned him. “Ready.”

He cleared his throat in deference to the upcoming act. Julie pursed her lips together. His fork sank into the dessert. “I’ve got to get a decent amount of both cake and frosting for this to be a fair sample to judge.” He nodded and tilted the forkful in inspection. His jaw dropped like a nutcracker. He shoveled the mound of cake into his mouth and chewed. Eyes shut as the chews continued. There were no audible cues expressing enjoyment this time, compared to the meal they shared on the patio. The silence was gut wrenching, but Dean’s physical actions were making Julie’s mouth water. She wanted to dive on top of him and latch lips onto that pout. The man was legit dampening her panties. She squirmed in her cross-legged position.

His eyes bolted open and he swallowed. Dean cocked his head at her. “That… is… amazing.”

She stifled a giggle rising in her throat. “Yeah? Not just saying that cause I’m right here?”

His brow dipped down, looking a bit pained in his expression. “I’m a straight shooter.”

I bet.

He attacked the cake again. Julie tried it for herself to see if he was right. She nodded at her handiwork when the smooth chocolate frosting melted in her mouth. It hadn’t gotten grainy from over whipping.

“Thanks.” Dean came up for air after a single piece remained on his plate.

“Welcome.”

“So, is this your interrogation tactic? Getting me into a sugary-stupor so I answer all your burning questions?” He grinned at her.

She stopped in mid-chew and swallowed.

“Cause it’s a pretty good play.” His eyelids looked heavy as he finished the last piece. He tossed the plate onto the table and grabbed one of the beer bottles. He went with the one leg folded under the other position this time and shifted at her, full tilt.

She cleared her throat, feeling the heat of his gaze. A long swig of beer and smack of his lips warmed her cheeks. “I was just being neighborly.” She lifted a shoulder.

“Hm.” White light from the television danced over his face. His stare seemed chiseled out of marble in the strobing spotlight. “Coming over unannounced. And, considering you didn’t want me in your house… why’d you think I’d invite you in?” His jaw clenched after the question.

Shit. “I had cake.” It was half statement, half question.

“Secret weapon aside,” he mumbled, “chocolate frosting wouldn’t protect you from… well, you don’t know anything about me.” His eyes drew her in further, danger and searing intensity illuminated with each flash. 

“I’d like to know you,” she whispered back without thinking, inwardly cursing at the admission.

He gave her a small smile. “Might not like what you find. I’m much better if you take me in small doses.” His hand lifted. A flat palm, dangling the bottleneck between two fingers, slid in the air. “Deal with what’s on the surface. Digging deeper is usually a disappointment.” He drank again, then thumbed the bottle opening.

She sighed. “Well, I guess we just do the good neighbor thing and keep things civil, distant.”

He nodded. “Would be for the best.”

She dropped the plate onto the table. “Should I go then?”

He shook his head. “I like your company. Almost as sweet as that cake.”

“That’s all surface stuff.” She tested.

“Is it now?” He leaned in a little closer. His arm draped over the seat back. “Just proving my point.” A grin.

Julie held his gaze and inhaled. “Spill with some surface stuff, then. To appease my curiosity.”

“Okay.” The word dripped out of his mouth, slow, like honey. “I’m 43.” He waited.

Julie smiled. “Are you expecting me to tell you how old I am?”

“I’m not stupid enough to guess.”

Her hand wiggled a finger in the air. “Point for you.” But she chose not to answer.

The triumphant, pleased with himself smile returned. “Moved here a couple years back. Used to work with my brother. Now, I take care of business solo.”

She nodded. “I won’t ask what kind of business.”

“Thanks. That wouldn’t be a simple explanation.” Another sip of beer. “Uh,” he cleared his throat in thought, “I listen to classic rock… nothing else is real music, anyway.” He caught the rise of her eyebrow. “In my opinion, of course. Been all over the country. Driven through almost every state, even Alaska. I hate flying. Oh, and I love my Baby.”

“Your baby?” Her heart stopped.

“My car.” He clarified. A hint of nostalgia passed over his face. “Been to hell and back in her. She belonged to my Dad.”

“She’s a beauty. You take good care of her.” Julie didn’t push for more, marveling at the little chips in his exterior.

“Family’s important to you?” Dean asked.

It made her pause. “The ones that matter are. The ones that don’t give up on you, even when it would be easier to. Those people are important to me. Those are the ones I’m loyal to.”

The smile he produced held an air of… it took her a few seconds to identify it. Respect. 

“Thing is,” Dean whispered, “I think you’re a decent woman. And I consider myself a good judge of character.” His eyes peeked down to her chest for a brief instant. “And, if I do what I want to right now… well, that might make the whole neighbor thing awkward. I can be an ass,” he licked his lips, “after.”

“After what?” Nervous energy caused her fingers to fiddle with her eyeglasses.

His knees brushed against her thigh. Warm fingers skimmed up her forearm. Her breath hitched. His hand traveled up over her shoulder and swept the ends of her brown hair to rest on her back. A thumb dipped into the hollow past her clavicle. He skirted under the collar of her shirt, not asking permission. Not needing to. The thick pads of his fingers massaged the skin. His eyes never left her face. “After.” He repeated.  

Charges of electricity pulsed and awakened the cells in her body. Thighs squeezed together while her mouth opened, struggling to make heads or tails of what would be the best course of action. “Being an ass would mean no more dessert.”

He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “It would.” His fingers retreated from her skin. “Shouldn’t risk it, then.”

They sat in silence for a minute, the moment gone and the space now awkward. Once she felt her heart rate return to a normal beat, she clapped her hands softly on her knees. “Well, I’m going to go. Keep the cake.” She rose. “Figure out how much you want to keep.” She stared down at the confused look on his face. “And bring me the rest tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“When you come by to mow my lawn.”

He smiled. “Still want me to?”

“Of course.”

“Okay then.” Even though she hurried, expecting to beat him to the door, he managed to get there first again. “Still wanna get to know me?”

She nodded. “I’ve got lots of time.”

He sighed. “I might not be that patient.”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy. For either of us.” She let herself out and stepped into the dusk.

“Julie.” He called out. She turned to take in that perfect figure in the doorway. “Let me walk you back.”

“I’m just around the corner.”

“Just let me.” He raised a finger, dashing away for a few seconds, and returned wearing slippers. A quick lock of the door and he slid down the walk to join her.

She shook her head in protest. “You really don’t have to.”

“Too late.” He slowed his pace and strolled with her in the night. The neighborhood only had a few streetlights scattered throughout. They were flickering in that fickle in between before true night enveloped the area. Their short walk was in the shadows of trees and Wes and Samuel’s house.

“Who’s going to walk you back?” she quipped.

“I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t see his face well but sensed a smirk. His slippers shuffled on the asphalt.

When they rounded the corner and her house was in sight, she raised a hand. “There. You can watch me from here.”

“Uh-uh. To the door.” He trudged up the hill.

“You’re quite chivalrous for an apparent ass.”

He chuckled. “I do try sometimes.”

The rest of the walk was in silence, side by side, until Julie took the lead up the narrow concrete path. She bounced up the two steps to the square slab that was her tiny porchway and turned back. It was quick enough to catch that he’d been admiring her ass as he stood on the path by the bottom step.

She was thankful he couldn’t see the blush she felt creeping up on her cheeks. “Well, good deed done.”

His hands plunged into his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded. And waited.

She sighed and pulled out the key to unlock her door. “Are you worried I’m going to get attacked by a monster hiding in the bushes?”

He grinned. “Something like that.”

The door acquiesced and Julie stepped inside. “Satisfied.”

“I will be when you lock the door behind you.”

She shook her head and whispered through the narrowing gap. “Night, Dean.”

“Good Night, Julie.”

Part 6

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