#Hinged Return Air Grille

[vicairr]

The Essential Benefits of Eggcrate Grilles for Ventilation

In the world of heating, ventilation, and air conditioning (HVAC), airflow management is crucial for ensuring efficiency and comfort in both residential and commercial spaces. One of the most effective solutions for optimizing airflow is the eggcrate grille. This type of grille not only enhances the performance of HVAC systems but also contributes to the overall aesthetics of a space. If you’re considering upgrading your ventilation system or simply want to learn more about eggcrate grilles, Vic Air Supplies is your go-to source for quality products and expert advice.

What is an Eggcrate Grille?

An eggcrate grille is a type of ventilation grille designed with a grid-like structure resembling an egg carton. This design allows for even airflow distribution while minimizing noise levels, making them ideal for various HVAC applications. Eggcrate grilles are often used in commercial buildings, offices, theaters, and even residential spaces to improve air circulation while maintaining a visually appealing look.

Key Benefits of Using Eggcrate Grilles

1. Enhanced Airflow Efficiency

One of the primary benefits of eggcrate grilles is their ability to enhance airflow efficiency. The open grid design allows air to flow freely in multiple directions, reducing resistance and promoting better circulation throughout the space. This means your HVAC system can operate more efficiently, resulting in consistent temperature control and improved comfort.

2. Reduced Noise Levels

Traditional grilles can sometimes create unwanted noise as air passes through them. However, eggcrate grilles are designed to minimize turbulence, which significantly reduces noise levels. This is particularly beneficial in environments such as offices, hospitals, and theaters where a quiet atmosphere is essential. By using eggcrate grilles, you can create a more serene environment without sacrificing airflow quality.

3. Aesthetic Appeal

Eggcrate grilles not only function effectively but also enhance the aesthetics of a space. Their modern, sleek design fits seamlessly into various interior styles, from contemporary to industrial. Available in different colors and finishes, you can choose an eggcrate grille that complements your decor while providing essential ventilation.

4. Versatile Applications

Eggcrate grilles are versatile and can be used in numerous applications. Whether you need them for ceiling ventilation, wall returns, or as part of a larger air distribution system, eggcrate grilles are adaptable to your needs. Their ability to perform well in different environments makes them a popular choice for architects, builders, and HVAC professionals.

5. Easy Installation and Maintenance

Installing eggcrate grilles is straightforward, making them a practical choice for both new constructions and retrofitting existing systems. Most eggcrate grilles are designed for easy installation, requiring minimal tools and effort. Additionally, maintaining these grilles is simple—regular cleaning to remove dust and debris is usually all that’s needed to keep them functioning optimally.

Why Choose Vic Air Supplies for Eggcrate Grilles?

When it comes to sourcing high-quality eggcrate grilles, Vic Air Supplies stands out as a trusted provider. Here are some compelling reasons to choose Vic Air Supplies for your ventilation needs:

1. Wide Range of Products

Vic Air Supplies offers an extensive selection of eggcrate grilles in various sizes, materials, and colors. Whether you’re looking for standard designs or custom solutions, their inventory caters to diverse applications, ensuring you find the perfect fit for your project.

2. Quality Assurance

Quality is a top priority at Vic Air Supplies. Their eggcrate grilles are manufactured using durable materials that withstand the rigors of daily use while maintaining optimal performance. When you purchase from Vic Air Supplies, you can trust that you’re investing in a product designed to last.

3. Expert Advice and Support

Navigating the world of HVAC components can be overwhelming, especially when trying to choose the right products for your needs. The knowledgeable team at Vic Air Supplies is always available to provide expert advice and guidance. Whether you have questions about product specifications or need assistance with installation, their staff is committed to helping you make informed decisions.

4. Competitive Pricing

Vic Air Supplies understands that budget considerations are essential for any project. They offer competitive pricing on their eggcrate grilles without compromising quality. With their cost-effective solutions, you can enhance your ventilation system without breaking the bank.

5. Excellent Customer Service

Customer satisfaction is at the heart of Vic Air Supplies’ operations. Their commitment to providing excellent service means that you’ll receive timely responses to inquiries, efficient order processing, and support throughout your purchasing experience. They aim to build long-term relationships with their customers, ensuring you return for all your HVAC needs.

Applications of Eggcrate Grilles

Eggcrate grilles are suitable for a wide range of applications, including:

Commercial Buildings: In office buildings, eggcrate grilles provide efficient air distribution while contributing to a professional look.

Theaters and Auditoriums: These spaces require both effective ventilation and noise reduction, making eggcrate grilles an ideal choice.

Retail Environments: Maintaining a comfortable shopping experience is essential, and eggcrate grilles help achieve that by optimizing airflow.

Residential Spaces: Homeowners can benefit from the aesthetic appeal and functionality of eggcrate grilles in areas such as living rooms, dining rooms, and kitchens.

Conclusion

Eggcrate grilles are an essential component of effective ventilation systems, providing numerous benefits such as improved airflow efficiency, reduced noise levels, and aesthetic appeal. Choosing the right supplier is crucial to ensure you receive quality products that meet your needs. Vic Air Supplies is your premier source for high-quality eggcrate grilles, offering a wide selection, expert advice, and excellent customer service.

If you're considering upgrading your HVAC system or enhancing your home's ventilation, don’t hesitate to explore the range of eggcrate grilles available at Vic Air Supplies. With their commitment to quality and customer satisfaction, you can trust that you're making a wise investment for your space. Enhance your environment today with Vic Air Supplies’ eggcrate grilles and experience the difference in comfort and efficiency.

Contact Us For More Information

Phone Number : 03 8770 2800

Email : saleseast@vicair.com.au

Website : https://vicair.com.au/

Address : 38-40 Licola Crescent, Dandenong South, VIC 3175

[hunnicute]

“Hello! You there, in the cot. I know you’re feeling sleepy, but I wonder if you’d mind taking a brief survey. I’m sure it will make you feel right as rain. Five questions.”

There’s a crackling over the speaker. Or maybe it’s in his head. Everything feels at once itchy and gloopy. He tries to sit up as the speaker fizzes, there’s mumbling on the other side but it’s indistinguishable as language.

“Where am I?” The man asks, pushing up from the bare cot, looking around the room which seems to be made up of concrete walls and little else.

“Close, the first question is actually: who are you?”

Where was it coming from? The voice seemed to echo off all of the walls, its source at the moment unknowable. The man jumps off the cot, barely that - it’s only some green canvas stretched over a metal frame, an intense prickling filling his brain and sinking down his spine. What was that called? Anxiety. This wasn’t right.

“What is this place, where am I?” He asks again, pacing the room. There’s one exit. A metal door set into the concrete walls. Beside it a black panel with dozens of tiny holes. The speaker. Beside the cot he woke up on there’s a chair made of metal. Florescent lights beam from the ceiling causing the man to squint as he zeros in on the speaker grill. He nearly trips over his feet reaching for the door. He tries the handle, it doesn’t budge. He pulls. Nothing. Pushes. More of the same. Not even any give in the hinges or lock. Whatever was holding it in place wasn’t something he could get past.

“Who are you?”

Calm down, breathe. The man tries to order his thoughts into rationality, fighting the building rage and stress that's filling his entire body. Find out what they want, if you can give it to them then you may make it out alive. If you can’t… convince them you can. The man analyses the voice. Young, most likely male, tone what could be called chipper. It doesn’t seem threatening, or deceptive. Still best to be cautious.

“Who are you?” The voice comes once more, some of the cheerful edge is dulled this time, like it expected an answer by now and doesn’t know why it’s not getting a response. Like turning on the radio and expecting a song but only getting static when everything seems to be in working order.

Play along for now, the man thinks. He goes to answer, only to find out he can’t. Nothing’s physically stopping him, there’s air in his lungs and his lips are free to move. But he can’t answer. The simplest of questions, he reaches for the information in his brain and it’s just- gone. He clamps his jaw shut, teeth clicking together. His veins turn to ice.

What the hell is going on here.

“If you can’t answer, feel free to say unknown.”

He needs to get out. He needs to get to- Make sure- Is safe- It’s his job to- Home is-

There’s only one way out of this room, built of concrete and smelling of freshly printed pages and antiseptic (how does he know that?) and it’s through that door. Whoever is talking through the speaker can open it. He picks up his hat and runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

“I don’t know.” The man says, voice floating out of him like it doesn’t even belong to him. Maybe it doesn’t, how would he know?

“Unknown. Okay. Second question, in which US state or territory were you born?” He reaches for it. Nothing again. The ice in his veins spreads again, as the anxiety builds. His breath speeds up and his fists clench. He takes a step back from the door. Stay calm. He shakes his head. They must be watching him because the voice goes on.

“Unknown! Great.” Some of the chipperness has returned. He didn’t notice the round black bump above the door before, like a beady eye staring him down. How does he know that it’s a camera? He’s never seen one before, but he knows exactly what it is and what it does. The urge to run begins to overwhelm him the longer this goes on. His stomach twists with nausea. Commonly caused by motion sickness, intense pain, early pregnancy, food poisoning, various enteroviruses or in this case emotional distress.

“Question three, please name any US state or territory.”

“Uh- I don’t know… Delaware.” Delaware? Where did that come from? What else? Georgia. Iowa. Alaska.

“Delaware.”

New York, California, Virginia, New Mexico.

“Question four, what is Mr. Eagan’s favourite breakfast?”

Illinois, Rhode Island, Texas, Idaho. There’s another voice in the background, one he hasn’t heard up until now. It’s deeper, exasperated. God, he thinks it says. The chipper voice ignores it. So there’s someone else there. Maybe someone higher up, someone in charge?

“I don’t know who that is.” He reaches for the handle of the door again and jiggles it futilely. “Maybe we can have a conversation and you can tell me face to face.”

“I’d love to chat with you, after we finish the survey.”

He lets out a terse laugh, a smile tightening his lips - but not with amusement. The action feels familiar.

“And would you look at that, we’re on the final question! To the best of your memory, what is or was the colour of your mother’s eyes?” Does he even have a mother? He must. Everyone has a mother. The nausea threatens to take over and the man turns around looking for a bucket or a trash can. There’s nothing but the cot and the chair. He stumbles towards them.

“I don’t remember.”

“Unknown! Wow!”

“What the hell is this?”

“Unknown, unknown, Delaware, unknown and unknown right?”

“Look if you don’t tell me what the hell I’m doing here I-“

The door swings open and out of it comes a kid who can’t be older than 17, holding a clipboard and grinning behind large circular glasses.

“Gee sir, you got a perfect score! And quicker than most too, that first question is usually what really trips people up but you done it just swell.”

[circle-around-again]

The Wrath of Darth Maul by Ryder Windham. Notes & Quotes

Chapter 1.

This catalogue will present interesting quotes, running themes, headcanons, and an exploration of Maul's experiences. Feel free to browse or use at your leisure. Spoilers ahead.

[scene: maul in his childhood bedroom].

"He could see only the top of his head, which had multiple small horns. Like the rest of his body, his head was distinguished by red and black patterns. His eyes were bright yellow with small black pupils. The first time he had seen his reflection, he had been startled, because he had thought he was seeing another person." (6).

Obligatory world-building: at this age (approximately 3) Maul already has a set of horns, his tattoos, and yellow eyes. This passage begins the mirroring theme that will continue through the novel. Maul projects all wishes of safety and freedom on to his double.

"Maul jumped up so that he could see more of his thin body reflected in the window. He jumped again and again, fascinated by his leaping reflection as well as the sound of his bare feet smacking against the metal floor." (7).

This is a repetitive motion for Maul, even to the point of feeling pain and exhaustion. One interpretation is that this is the result of a lack of stimulation (as he is near-permanently locked in this room). Another is that this is Maul stimming. He is retreating to an internal, happy and safe world categorised by rhythmic sights, sounds and motions. Now, if Maul is truly stimming here, then he will have lost the ability to stim like this after Naboo. One loss among many.

Obligatory world-building: it is revealed that Maul's room has 1. A Window 2. A Metal, Locked Door 3. A Water Fountain 4. A Doggy Door Where Food, Mostly Raw Meat, is Deposited 5. A Security Camera and Speaker

HC: There is no bed. All surfaces are described to be metal. It is as if his bedroom is simply a solitary confinement cell.

Obligatory world-building: Maul is exercised using chimes from speakers in his room. He is told to run, do sit-ups, leg-lifts and push-ups using both one and two hands. He is 3.

"Made of shiny black metal, the droid had a bulbous head with five red mechanical eyes called photoreceptors and a mesh-grille vocabulator for speaking, and a cylindrical torso that held four long, jointed pincers for arms. The torso rested on a swivel-hinged abdomen that had six spiderlike legs." (9).

A description of the droid, D9, that acts as Maul's nurse, trainer, prison guard and substitute mother. HC: I believe that her spider-like appearance heavily influenced Maul's psyche, to the point that, years later, he would subconsciously adopt it in his mechanical form.

Obligatory world-building: At this point, Maul receives all food and medical treatment from this droid. He is "sprayed" with "antiseptic cleansers," which sounds as if his version of a shower is getting hosed down (9). He does not leave unless he is escorted out for exercise.

"Once, the droid had delivered a bright green and yellow snake that wasted no time in attacking Maul, sinking its venomous fangs deep into the boy's arm. ... Maul had not been able to resist taking several large bites of the dead snake... [T]he droid had returned with medicine, bandages, and a stomach pump." (9-10).

This event references an Ouroborous; the snake that eats its own tail. Perhaps this dance of two refers to the Sith, perhaps it is the poison of using the dark side. Or, perhaps it is Sidious simply teaching Maul that nothing is safe and predictable, not even a door opening.

"He was barely three years old." (11).

Age: This line is the beginning of my attempted map of Maul's age. It is confirmed that Maul is as young as three when he begins life in this facility.

[scene transition: Maul is tranquilised by the droid, and is taken to the Sith chambers of Mustafar].

"At the chamber's center, an enormous orb of transparent greenish blue liquid, nearly two meters in diameter, was suspended in the air above a circular dining table. Dozens of small, multicolored aquatic creatures swam within the orb..." (14).

Note: Palpatine likes to ponder his orbs, I see. This, of course, mirrors the famous opera scene in Revenge of the Sith. Perhaps the bright ball symbolises the allure of power and possibility. Perhaps, as will be developed further in the novel, the victim is likened to a pet-fish-to-be.

The Dark Side: the fish swim away as Sidious approaches. This is a cool side-effect of using dark side power.

"You may have been born on the planet Iridonia, but you came to my attention on another world, Dathomir." (17).

Note: Mace Windu in The Clone Wars also briefly references Maul being born on Iridonia. It is confirmed, as far as I know, that he was born on Dathomir. This is likely an error. Or, perhaps, Sidious is lying.

"From Maul's point of view, the orb distorted Sidious's head and upper body." (18).

HC: I wonder if this makes Sidious look like Plagueis. If so, this scene not only becomes linked to Anakin's indoctrination into the Sith, but Palpatine's own. This scene continues the Bane Line, from Master to Apprentice.

"'If I didn't know better, I'd say those two were pretending to be us. If they were, I wonder where that would leave the rest.' Maul... saw them begin to jerk and spasm." (19).

And so begins the link between Maul and Sidious, and the grey and red fish.

"Master Sidious... is it possible... to learn this power?" (20).

Note: this is a reference to Anakin's own quote in Revenge of the Sith. The continuing parallels to Anakin's own grooming and fall are becoming comedic.

[foxys-left-foot]

Overload --- Johnny Silverhand x John Wick

In which, an assassin meets a strange man and finds that they have much more in common than it seems.

Tw for: self-cest (mainly because they're both played by Keanu Reeves) , bxb sex, alcohol consumption, smoking, foul language, etc.

It was a night like any other --- the stars dotted the skies, the moon shone a dim blueish color, and occasional clouds rolled by. A man thudded through the town, fatigued by all the running and fighting he'd done. "Oh God, fuck. I need a drink." he grumbled. "Any drink. And something to eat." He looked off into the distance, spotting a glowing, brightly lit sign with the words 'HOWLING HAL'S BAR AND GRILL' in bright orange lettering. Perfect.

He made his way towards the establishment, breathing heavily and wiping some blood off of his face. Meanwhile, inside the bar, the patrons were enjoying their drinks and entertainment. A male with dark brown hair and a metallic arm chugged his drink, coming up for air. "Ahh," he sighed in satisfaction. "Nothing like a good ol' margarita to get you hyped up." His band, SAMURAI, had a gig at this bar tonight. They were allowed to stay in the rooms on the above floor for the night.

The music suddenly stopped when the doors practically flew open, almost falling off their hinges. The crowd gasped at the man's appearance. He was all cut up and bloody, accompanied by a huge bloodstain on his blazer. He looked rugged and exhausted as he slowly walked to the bar. "Bourbon! On the rocks!" he demanded.

"Yessir!" The bartender said, rushing to prepare the drink. The assassin sat down in a barstool, eagerly awaiting his alcoholic beverage. Everyone else eventually went back to partying. "Well, aren't you quite a fucking character? Name's Johnny. Johnny Silverhand. Who're you?" Johnny asked, extending his metallic hand for a friendly shake.

The drink was finally served. The stranger took a few big swigs before speaking, "They call me 'the baba yaga,' but my name is John Wick." Johnny raised his brows, then furrowed them. "Baby gaga? What does that mean?" he questioned. John snarled, "First off, it's 'baba yaga,' not whatever the hell you said! Second, it means 'the boogeyman' in Russian."

He took another swig. Johnny bit his lip. "You speak Russian?" he replied. A nod came from the slick-haired man. Wow, the cyborg thought, he's so hot! He stared down at John's pants. They seemed to be a bit tight on him. How was he to win him over? It'd been a long while since he fucked anyone, let alone flirted with them. "Hey," he began, "Get all the drinks you want. I'll pay." Before Wick could open his mouth, Johnny put a metallic finger to his lips.

"I'll pay," he repeated, "You look exhausted. My band is playing here tonight, so we're allowed to sleep upstairs. Room's gonna be limited, so bear with us. You might have to share. That okay?" John sighed and nodded. "Sure. But you're not going to treat my dog like shit. He goes where I do." he growled.

"You have my word, compadre. I love dogs." He replied as he petted the pitbull sat at his feet, chuckling with childish glee when his hand got licked in return. "Name for this bundle of joy?"

"He has none. I just call him Dog."

"Oh."

"Say, how'd you get that arm?"

"War bullshit. How'd you get those scratches and that big ass blood stain on your blazer?"

"A fight. I won, of course."

"Gnarly. Hey, you know how to sing, man? Our bassist has a sore throat today and can't sing."

"I can try. Haven't sung in a while."

Later, after the show had concluded, everyone practically went wild over them. "Man, you can SCREAM!" Johnny laughed, lifting his shades. "Well, Silverass, when you've been through what I have, you scream a lot, trust me." Wick half-joked, a smile finally on his face. "You never told me about yourself," he said, "Where are you from?"

"Somewhere out in Texas. You?"

"New York. It sucks. Don't go there."

"Noted. Say, John, are you lonely? Just like I am? When's the last time you ever had fun? With someone else, mm?" Silverhand asked seductively, resting a hand on his lap. Wick bit his lip. "I don't know what you're talking about. Assassins don't just 'have fun' whenever they want." He went to move the veteran's metallic appendage away from him, but hesitated.

So he decided to do nothing. "You know what I mean. When is the last time you've made love?" Wick blushed softly before hissing, "No woman will EVER replace my angel Helen!" Johnny just laughed, the smell of booze on his breath. "No, no, baby..." he scolded playfully, lifting his chin slightly. He took off his shades again. "With a man. Specifically, me?" he purred.

The darker-haired male blushed a deep red as he whimpered quietly. "What a babygirl!" Silverhand teases, to which the latter snarls. "Excuse me, but I always give the orders! I'm always in control! I'm no babygirl or plaything! I'll show you!" He replies. "Oh? Prove it. Don't fight me; prove to me that you could take me over! If you can, I'll take back everything I said." Johnny grinned mischievously.

John got up and yanked the smooth-talking male by his shirt. He threw him to the ground and stood above him. "You were saying?" he somewhat grinned. "Not bad for a bottom." Johnny laughed. John growled in frustration, a fight ensuing. At one point, he found himself pinned against the wall by his opponent.

He thrashed around, desperately trying to punch and kick out. But Silverhand was prepared, his dirty boots on top of his clean flats, and his grip on his wrists tight. "Hold still." he commanded. John, confused but cautious, froze in place. His foe suddenly ... KISSED HIM?? What was going on?

He wasn't thinking as impulse took over and he returned the kiss. His body relaxed, his muscles no longer tense. Lust began overwhelming him, overriding his precautionary approach and aggressive attitude. "J-Johnny..." he stuttered. Johnny grinned and nipped at his neck, licking and kissing the skin every so often, too. The sharply dressed man whined, squirming in his grasp. "Trust me, princess, I'm going to make you feel so good that you see fucking stars." With that, he was lifted over his shoulder and carried upstairs to the bedroom.

Smut ahead!!! Don't like it, skip it!!

"Let me g ---" John landed on the bed, wincing in pain. His heart stopped when he tilted his head upwards, only to see Silverhand shutting and locking the door. Johnny bent down for another kiss, which John wasn't hesitant to return --- but the former soldier moaned when he felt his balls getting massaged by Wick's knee. "Sneaky fuck." He hissed, tone faltering. He barely managed to pull away from him before getting up on the bed. "Strip." He commanded.

"Make me!" Wick barked. "You don't want me to do that, babygirl." The other man shot back. John still didn't move much; he just changed his sitting position. Johnny chuckled and yanked him by the tie, making it so their foreheads touched. His metallic hand reached down to skim over his clothed buttocks, staying there before moving to unbuckle that pest of a belt. "You want me to make you want to strip?" He spoke. John just feebly nodded. " 'Kay then."

Without wasting much more time, the belt was discarded to the floor and the pants unzipped. He slid them down so that John's bare ass was exposed. He grinned devilishly as his metallic index finger traveled down his sensitive skin and penetrated the assassin's butthole. John yelled out, to which Johnny kissed him. "Gotta be quiet, baby. Can't let them know about our love." He whispered. John let out a quiet whine, nodding. With that, he started pumping his finger in and out.

Wick shuddered, his cheeks clenching tightly around it. "M..ore.." he finally mumbled. "More? Okay, pudding." Johnny cooed.

He added a second finger, stretching him out. He went on to use his other hand to slowly slide his pants down in full. "What a whore. Already getting hard, for me? I'm so flattered." He chuckled, giving his dick a quick squeeze. Not knowing what to do, John thrusted his hips forward. "More, please, more." he begged.

"Quite the needy little slut, aren't you?" Johnny growled, the man whining again. "Take me." He whispered, wrapping his arms around his waist. "Pl..ease. It's been so long since I've done anything sexual. You need to fuck me." Wick admitted softly. Surprised, he took his hand out of his hole. He silently stripped him of his underwear, biting his lip when he saw his dick.

When he went to go reach for his shirt, he got stopped by a pair of normal hands. "Allow me. My clothes are mine." John growled. He removed his tie, followed by his blazer, then his undershirt. Johnny marveled at his stature. He was actually bulky beneath the suit, his backside the most notably strongest part of his upper body. Tattoos were crafted along the skin, telling tales that he'd like to explore further.

"'Fortune favors the bold', eh? Nice. Now who's your fucking master?" He taunted. "Nobody!" John snarled, to which he got spanked. He decided to surrender. "You, Johnny. You're my master." John replied seductively. "Strip me, baby." He marvelled at how smooth he was, taking his time but not being too slow. His bare upper chest made John want to blow then and there. Not a single hair in sight.

He continued, removing his clunky boots, pants, and underwear. "All done, sir." He said obediently. "Good boy! Now suck my cock." John got on his hands and knees, putting his lips on the tip. He looked up for permission. Once he got the nod, he went the whole way down.

He started moving his head in a metronome-like fashion, holding onto the bedsheets for support. Johnny groaned. He wanted to cum already! But he couldn't let that happen just yet. "Okay, Sir Blows-a-Lot, that's enough. Now, I want you to lay down on your back for me." He ordered gently. "Remember, quiet."

"Yes, master Silverhand." He mumbled, doing as told. "This is going to hurt. I won't move unless you want me to. Got it? Good." He lifted Wick's legs over his shoulders and entered him. This caused them both to yelp in pain. "Go." John mumbled. He grunted as the dominant man started thrusting.

"Babygirl," the boy said, "I want to hear you. Moan for me, baby." He himself started moaning, moving his hands to roam John's body aimlessly. He pinched his nipples harshly, watching him wince. "Why aren't you letting Master hear you?" he teased.

"I-I sound embarrassing when I moan! Please, don't make me do it ---!" Before he could utter another word, he was met with a slap to the face. He let out a high-pitched groan, blushing red afterwards. "Beautiful," Johnny said, "so beautiful and loud enough for only me to hear."

Wick would be lying if he said that that didn't turn him on. He whimpered as Johnny sped up in his thrusts. When he did, he hit the bundle of nerves that set him off most. "Deeper." he demanded.

"What?"

"You heard me! I SAID DEEPER, SILVERASS!" The futuristic male was practically pounding into him at this point and they began to feel close. John finally cracked an exhausted, lazy, lustful smile for the first time in ages. "Baby, I'm gonna c ---" Johnny attempted to warn him, but spilled his load into him before he could do so.

"MASTER, JESUS CHRIST!" The other boy screamed.

He spilled all over himself, to which Johnny helped himself to some of his seed. "Not half bad for a grump puss." he commented, laughing. He cleaned himself up and put on his underwear. "John, let's get you all clean and such." Silence. "John?" He again called.

He looked over to see him snoring, eyes closed. "Kinda cute for a fighter." He smiled softly for once, stroking his black hair. "I hope you have a nice rest, beautiful." He turned off the lights, making sure that both he and Wick were dressed enough for a sociable standard. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a whining pitbull. "Hey, Dog! You wanna see the other Johnny? You hungry?" he offered.

The dog scratched at the door, looking back at the metallic-armed man. "Okay." He opened the door back up. He felt guilty for abandoning the guy he slept with. Most experiences were one night stands, but he felt he needed to protect him. With that, he took off his shades and walked back in.

This caused a half-asleep John to be alarmed, glaring despite having droopy eyelids. "Relax. It's just me, Silverass. I'm here to protect you."

"I don't need protecting. It's fine."

"You do, and you're not kicking me out as easily as you think you are."

Too tired to fight, John rolled over in bed and closed his eyes. Johnny climbed onto the mattress, which let out a few squeaks and groans as he laid down. "Night, princess." He chuckled. John smacked his metallic arm, which only caused him pain. Johnny rolled over, wanting to hold him. But he refrained.

Instead, he spooned.

[nzdepot]

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[scs-group]

From Mess to Success: The Restaurant Cleaning Checklist You Need

From Mess to Success: The Restaurant Cleaning Checklist You Need

In the culinary world, success isn't just about crafting delectable dishes or providing top-notch service; it's also about creating an ambiance that leaves a lasting impression. One often underestimated aspect of this experience is cleanliness. Welcome to "From Mess to Success: The Restaurant Cleaning Checklist You Need," where we unveil the key ingredients to maintaining a pristine and inviting restaurant.

The Importance of a Clean Restaurant

Before we delve into the essential checklist for restaurant cleaning, it's crucial to understand why cleanliness is paramount:

First Impressions: A clean restaurant sets the stage for a memorable dining experience. It creates a positive first impression and piques diners' appetites.

Health and Safety: Restaurants are bound by strict health and safety regulations. Compliance is not optional; it's a legal necessity.

Customer Satisfaction: Cleanliness directly affects customer satisfaction. Patrons who dine in a clean environment are more likely to return and recommend your restaurant to others.

Reputation: In today's digital age, a spotless reputation is more critical than ever. Positive online reviews and word-of-mouth recommendations often hinge on the cleanliness of your establishment.

Employee Morale: A clean workspace is conducive to higher employee morale, leading to a more pleasant work environment.

Operational Efficiency: Regular cleaning prolongs the lifespan of equipment, reduces maintenance costs, and prevents pest infestations.

Now that we've established the significance of cleanliness, let's explore the comprehensive checklist that can help you achieve and maintain the highest standards of hygiene in your restaurant.

The Comprehensive Restaurant Cleaning Checklist

Front of House

Daily Cleaning:

Dining Area: Wipe down tables, chairs, and booths after each use. Vacuum carpets and mop floors regularly to remove crumbs and spills.

Windows and Glass: Clean windows, glass partitions, and decorative glassware to maintain a sparkling appearance.

Countertops and Service Areas: Sanitize countertops, bar surfaces, and service areas to prevent the spread of germs.

Weekly Cleaning:

Light Fixtures and Ceiling Fans: Dust and clean light fixtures, ceiling fans, and decorative lighting to maintain a bright and inviting atmosphere.

Decor: Dust and wipe down decorative items, such as framed artwork, mirrors, and decorative plants.

Menu Boards and Signage: Clean menu boards, signage, and display screens to ensure they are easy to read and visually appealing.

Monthly Cleaning:

Deep Carpet Cleaning: Schedule professional deep carpet cleaning to remove stains and refresh the appearance of your dining area.

Upholstery: Deep clean upholstered furniture and seating to remove dirt and stains. Consider professional upholstery cleaning.

Restrooms

Daily Cleaning:

Toilets and Urinals: Clean and disinfect toilets and urinals after each use. Restock toilet paper, soap, and hand towels.

Sinks and Counters: Wipe down sinks, counters, and mirrors frequently throughout the day.

Floor: Mop restroom floors regularly and place "wet floor" signs to ensure safety.

Weekly Cleaning:

Grout and Tile: Inspect and clean grout and tile surfaces to prevent mold and mildew growth.

Air Vents: Dust and clean air vents to ensure proper ventilation and air quality.

Restock Supplies: Check and restock restroom supplies, including soap, toilet paper, and hand sanitizer.

Monthly Cleaning:

Deep Cleaning: Schedule a deep cleaning of restrooms, including tile and grout cleaning, and replace any damaged fixtures.

Kitchen and Food Preparation Areas

Daily Cleaning:

Food Contact Surfaces: Thoroughly clean and sanitize food contact surfaces, including cutting boards, prep tables, and utensils, after each use.

Appliances: Clean and sanitize cooking appliances, ovens, fryers, and grills daily to prevent grease buildup.

Floors: Mop and sanitize kitchen floors throughout the day to maintain a clean and safe work environment.

Weekly Cleaning:

Refrigerators and Freezers: Remove expired items, clean interior surfaces, and sanitize refrigerator and freezer shelves.

Exhaust Hoods: Clean and degrease exhaust hoods, filters, and ventilation systems to prevent fire hazards.

Pest Control: Schedule regular pest control inspections and treatments to prevent infestations.

Monthly Cleaning:

Oven and Grill Deep Cleaning: Schedule deep cleaning sessions for ovens and grills to remove baked-on residues.

Walk-in Refrigerators: Deep clean walk-in refrigerators and freezers, including shelves and gaskets.

Behind the Scenes

Daily Cleaning:

Dishwashing Area: Clean and sanitize dishwashing sinks, counters, and equipment after each use.

Trash Removal: Empty and sanitize trash bins and recycling containers regularly to prevent odors and pests.

Employee Break Area: Keep employee break areas clean and well-maintained to boost staff morale.

Weekly Cleaning:

Storage Areas: Organize and clean storage areas, including dry storage, walk-in refrigerators, and freezers.

Office and Administrative Areas: Clean and sanitize office spaces, including desks, computers, and phones.

Exterior: Clean exterior areas, including patios, sidewalks, and outdoor seating areas.

Monthly Cleaning:

Deep Cleaning: Schedule deep cleaning sessions for hard-to-reach or often-neglected areas, such as vents, ducts, and behind equipment.

In Conclusion

A clean restaurant is not just an option; it's a necessity. It ensures the well-being of your guests, the satisfaction of your staff, and the prosperity of your establishment. By diligently following this comprehensive restaurant cleaning checklist, you're not only meeting regulatory standards but also setting a new standard of cleanliness. Your restaurant will shine as a beacon of excellence in the culinary world.

FAQs

1. How can I ensure my restaurant remains pest-free?

Regular pest control inspections and preventive measures, such as proper food storage and waste management, can help keep pests at bay. Be sure to work with a licensed pest control provider.

2. What should I do if I discover mold or mildew in my restaurant?

Address mold and mildew issues promptly. Remove affected materials, clean and sanitize the area, and take steps to improve ventilation to prevent future growth.

3. Can I handle all cleaning tasks in-house, or should I hire professionals?

While daily cleaning tasks can be managed by your in-house staff, it's advisable to schedule professional deep cleaning sessions periodically to address hard-to-reach areas and ensure a thorough clean.

[maulthots]

I hate not having the vocabulary for the things in my house I am trying to fix. for example the return air grille (a phrase I couldn't have put together myself) is precariously balanced on my wall thanks to stripped screws and busted drywall. And I could fix both of these problems individually but not the real problem which is that I have to unscrew this thing every 3 months to change the filter, which means whatever I patch will soon be unpatched. Anywya all this to say, today I discovered Big Hardware makes ones with hinges that you only have to screw in once. I have placed it on my Christmas wish list. High priority.

[doloresbarnett98th]

How to Thoroughly Clean a Bathroom

Everyone hates doing chores, and cleaning the bathroom is no exception. But nothing compares to having a spotless bathtub where we can have those indescribably relaxing lengthy soaks.

Install a detachable toilet seat. It seems impossible to ever completely clean the hinges on the toilet seat, no matter how hard you try. The issue is resolved by installing a toilet seat that is removable. The only tool needed for installation is a wrench. After that, cleaning beneath the hinges is simple.

Clean shower door to avoid mineral buildup. If the glass is treated with an auto-glass coating, beading water can be completely avoided. To clean bathroom showers, use Aquapel, while Rain-X will also do the trick. To apply the treatment to the glass of your shower door, follow the directions on the package.

Clean the exhaust fan. Try a strategy that is quicker and more efficient than vacuuming if the grille on your bathroom exhaust fan is clogged with dust. Turn on the fan and use "canned air" to blow the dust away. Run the system such that the dust is transported to the filter by the return airflow. In addition to air, the cans also include chemical propellants.

Clean grout with a bleach pen. Bleach should be "drawn" across the grout lines with the pen. You can target the grout with the pen without covering the tile in bleach. Keep in mind to avoid skin-to-skin contact and to turn on the bathroom fan. Crisp, smooth grout lines are the result of this time-consuming technique.

Bleach away stains. Use a paper towel dipped in bleach to wipe away tough stains from marble, cultured marble, or plastic laminate. To keep the bleach smell in check, cover the towel with a cup and leave it there all night. It is advised against using bleach if your bathroom countertops are quartz.

When cleaning your bathroom, it's crucial to take precautions to keep yourself safe. You can protect yourself by using simple tools like gloves and a mask. For the necessary deep cleaning that every home requires, the majority of homeowners hire a cleaning service. Check cove smart home security system that’s both effective and affordable giving your home security.

[jimlingss]

The Devil’s Advocate

➜ Words: 11.8k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Smut, Devil!AU

➜ Summary: The devil is a lazy. selfish. bastard. He never shows up for work and forces you to take his place at the gates of Hell. But when he follows you on your vacation — you have an inkling of his intentions. After all, you are his advocate.

➜ Warnings: Implied smut, violence, killing, etc.

There’s a proverb out there that says: talk of the devil and he is sure to appear.   But no matter how much you talk, curse, and wish for him to show up to his damned job — he never does. So because of him, every single day in this burning inferno eternity, you're always running.   "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"   The guards step swiftly away as you sprint past with fire on your heels — they're not unfamiliar with this sort of sight. After all, the same thing happens day in and day out.   Yoongi is seated at his desk, feet propped up on the surface of said desk. He’s casually leaning back on his chair, elbow propped up on the armrest, fingers playing with a few strands of his hair. “You're late.”   “I know.” You’re heaving for air while balancing the pile of file folders and paperwork that goes over your head. You drop it on your desk with a massive thump that teeters the desk’s legs from the sheer force and has the people wincing.   He would make another snarky comment but your deep eye bags and trembling hands are pitiful enough.   “Alright.” The angel stands onto his feet again. “First person, please.”   One of Yoongi's assistance in her white robes looks down at the clipboard and calls the next dead soul that's been in line. “Kim Namjoon.”   Immediately, you shuffle your files to find the right one, struggling in the mess of yet another late night. In the meanwhile, the man steps up with a nervous posture, reverent with his hands folded in front of him and Yoongi reads from his own papers.   “Alright. Looks like you were an academic most of your life. A very quiet existence, huh? Never married or any kids. Let's see here. Oh. You dedicated your life to research of koala birth control. A very good contribution to society. You volunteered at soup kitchens a lot too — even on the day of your death.”   “I like to help people,” the man pipes up in a timid mutter.   Yoongi's cat-like eyes flicker to the top of his paper, having never asked him to speak. And the glare from the angel has the man tight-lipped again. “Your history shows you were very altruistic. Looks like you can head to heaven.”   “Wait!” You stand up once you finally find the right file, stopping the soul before it can take a step closer towards the glowy gates.    At your rebuttal, Yoongi rolls his eyes and plops back down into his swivel chair.   “Here we go again....”   You hold the file up. “Kim Namjoon, you were at Imlings Street on October twenty fifth, twenty nineteen, correct?”   “Y-Yes?” The deceased human swallows hard, not sure where you're going with this. But he’s undoubtedly nervous that you're speaking, after all you’re the woman in bright carmine. Namjoon looks at the angel for help but Yoongi doesn't even blink. “I worked near there.”   “And you were there that night at ten?”   “I-I don't remember.”   “Well, you were celebrating your friend's birthday that night, right?”   “Oh yeah…” His brows furrow as it slowly comes back to him.   “And at some point, you were standing near the corner street near Fifth avenue, correct?”   “Yes...? I suppose.”   “Is it true you could see down the alleyway the restaurant called Dog World?”   Namjoon pales. “Umm....”   The deceased human obviously recalls why this night was significant in particular — and it seems to be a memory that he’s attempted to suppress through his entire lifetime.   “Answer the question, human,” Yoongi sighs, fiddling with a pen in his cup holder.   “Yes.”   “And you witnessed a woman being murdered, correct?”   The man nearly starts sobbing. He whimpers, and manages a slight nod.   “We need you to speak, Mr. Kim.”   “Yes!” he shouts, distressed.    “You did nothing to stop it, right?”   “I...I couldn’t!”   “Well, you didn't call the police?”   “I didn't.”   “You just left while the woman was being murdered.” As you speak, the man starts wailing hysterically, aware of where this is going. He attempts to beg for forgiveness, but neither you nor Yoongi pay any mind. It’s always the last moments that humans are filled with regret — the moments when it matters, not the moments when it didn’t. “Are you aware that the omission to act when you have a moral duty to is a grave sin?”   He hiccups, sobbing.   “It is equally as bad to be a bystander as a perpetrator,” you continue. “You could've saved her.”   Yoongi waves his hand. “Alright, alright. You've convinced us.” The angel spares the man from being berated and grilled, granting him at least a bit of mercy. “You're going to hell.”   “No! No!”    He howls at the top of his lungs, but the two guards grab each side of him and begin dragging him past you. The barbed, black gates open wide to welcome him in, creaking on their hinges, and his scream is heard echoing as he’s thrown down the red-glowing, inferno pit.   You don’t know why they’re always crying — it’s kind of insulting to your home.   Hell’s not that bad.   “Next person!” Yoongi calls.   When humans die, most of their souls rise to purgatory — an empty void of nothingness — where they stand in a single-file line waiting to get to the gates. There, the devil and an angel representative come to judge where the soul shall reside as each come up one by one.    But the devil never shows up to do his job, to serve judgment to human souls.   You’re his substitute.    You’re the devil’s advocate.   “Am I going to see you tomorrow?”   It’s been a long day and you feel your eyeballs burning as you pack up the mess of your files. You’ll have to sort them again, but for now, you stuff whatever you can back into your briefcase.   “No, it's my day off. Jimin'll probably be here instead.” Yoongi sips the glittering golden liquid in his chalice. Angels — always so pretentious. “Let me guess, you’ll still be here.”   “Hopefully not.” There’s a small smile gracing your lips, but it’s futile. Everyone knows you’ll have to show up. The lazy devil never shows up and does his own bidding.   “You’re overworking yourself, Y/N,” Yoongi mumbles in disgust as he watches you try to pile your stack of papers that’s practically teetering from side to side. “Haven’t you thought about going on vacation or something?”   “Vacation?” you exhale, arms straining under the weight.   His eyes light up as he remembers something. “Have you ever heard about that famous cruise? What was it again?” Yoongi looks over at his assistant and her eyes flicker up.   “Sins Cruise Line,” she deadpans.   He snaps his fingers. “Right. I heard it was amazing. Each day is dedicated to a deadly sin or something. Too bad they only have it in hell — makes me want to visit some time. But does the publicity live up to the name?”   “How am I supposed to know?”   Yoongi’s eyes dim. His excitement dies on the spot. “Of course you wouldn’t.” The angel grabs his briefcase. “Well see you some time, Y/N. I’m going to my vacation home over the long weekend.”   “Goodbye, Yoongi.”   He enters the gates of Heaven and disappears from sight. You go on your own way, bringing your tall files back. But his words stick to you. They’re devilishly tempting.   //   You’re writing away on parchment with your quill dipped with black ink, preparing more documents and affidavits. But you stop momentarily to roll your neck and ease your tense muscles. You lean back in your chair, staring around at the red room you’re in, and the tiny desk that you occupy. Across the room is the devil’s desk, large and imposing, with an uncomfortable chair across his velvet one. Though the surface has collected a thick layer of dust on the surface.   “Debra!” you shout her name and the sluggish secretary comes in. She has gray hair, kitten heels clicking on the scarlet carpet, skirt past her knees. The demon woman reminds you of church-goer humans who often shout profanities at you as if they’re attempting to exorcise you while you’re just trying to make a legal case — they frequently run into Yoongi’s arms too, impressing neither you nor him.   “Yes?”   You set your quill down. “Have you ever heard of Sins Cruise Line?”   She exhales in exhaustion. “Can’t say I have…”   “Well...then. Umm, can you find me a pamphlet of theirs?”   She stares and then slowly turns away from the room without acknowledgment.   But the secretary eventually comes back half an hour later and slaps the rectangular papers to your desk. She turns away, returning to her front desk, and while you try to focus on your work until the next break, the temptation of the pamphlet sitting at the corner becomes too strong.   You put down your quill to open it.   At once, your pupils dilate. There’s a picture of the glorious red sea, the colour of crimson and a white pristine ship on it. Your indulgence is ours. How fancy. It looks like there’s a variety of facilities and lots of activities to do. It looks fantastic and your muscles are already relaxing as you look at the pictures.   But you can’t….   You can’t just leave your job….   Can you?

Turns out you can — that it is in fact possible.   It’s so surreal, you can’t believe that you’ve somehow managed to actually get time off, that the infamously lazy devil actually agreed to it and will come back to work so you can take a break.   Now you’re standing on the harbour with your suitcase in hand, staring at the white ship in front of you. Yoongi would be proud.   “Cocktail?”   The worker hands one to you on his platter, and you hesitate. “Can I really?”   “Of course.” He grins. “Your indulgence is our pleasure.”   You hold the cool glass while stepping onto the incline to get on the ship’s deck. The chilling wind entwines into your hair and you sip the liquid, your feet afloat already. “Welcome aboard to Sins Cruise Line! Your indulgence is our pleasure!”   The workers wave, giving a warm welcome with perfect smiles. You might be in Heaven.   “We can show you the way to your room. What is your name?”   “Y/N L/N.” One of the demon women takes a look at your ticket and smiles. “Right this way.”   After a millennium of working, this is what you deserve.   You’re given a short, brief tour of the massive cruise ship. “—week-long, each day to indulge in a deadly sin—” And not long after are you brought to your modest-sized ocean view room. “—canal surrounds hell. It’s quite lovely during the night when the water glows red. Have you ever seen it before?”   “No, I can’t say that I have,” your voice trails off and you look at towels shaped into animals on your bed as well as the edible arrangement on your coffee table. “Wow….”   “I’m glad you like it. It’s all complimentary,” the girl giggles. “I should also tell you that today is dedicated to greed. We’ll be having a gambling night down at the casino floor starting in the evening. Other than that, feel free to ask anything whatsoever. We’ll always be around.”   “Thank you.”   And you’re sincere about your gratitude. You’ve never experienced something like this before.   You flop down onto the soft bed before getting up after a moment. There’s too much to explore, too much to see than to stay in a small space between four walls. You’ve done that enough and you find yourself quickly slipping away from your room.   As you pace the area, you muse that you could potentially spend the rest of your existence on this ship, indulging like you should be, giving into temptation, living in a daze, high on bliss—   “Where’s my refill?! I’ve been waiting for five minutes!”   Your smile falls. Goosebumps raise all over your body. The barking voice is so familiar that it sends chills down your spine. It’s an automatic response, like a dog made on alert, and your head swivels over.   Instantaneously, your eyes connect to darker ones. They’re pools of deep brown nearing black. And the corner of their plump lip tugs into a sly smirk.   What the hell was the devil doing here?   “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He abandons his drink on the tray of the server that just rushed over and ignores him in favour of you. The devil makes long strides across the deck towards you and when you stumble back, his smile widens into a friendlier one. Had you blinked, you would’ve missed the sparkle of dangerous mischief in his eyes. “What a coincidence.”   “A coincidence?!”   You’re unintentionally cowering lower than him, posture bending to his imposing aura. He looms over you with his tall height, covering you with his shadows that seems to snicker.   “Course it would be. What? You think I followed you here?”   That’s exactly it — you put in a note requesting time off, and when he asked where you were going via letter, you wrote it down. There’s no way that this was a mere coincidence.   But you don’t dare say it out loud.   “Who’s….who’s working?”   He grins. Of course the first question you would ask him is about work.   “I put Taehyung in charge.”   “He’s not trained!” you hiss in distress, just considering the wrong things he’ll do, the trouble he’ll cause and mess he’ll make for you to clean up.   But the devil man shrugs. “He’ll be fine. So what are you doing now? This is one hell of a ship, huh?”   You’re in hell.    You’re stuck in the middle of a canal, on a cruise ship, with no escape from Kim Seokjin.   //   What was supposed to be an easy vacation has turned into a nightmare.    Every corner you turn, you peek from it. You slink behind pillars to scan the premise. You crawl in the shadows to—   “Are you lost?”   You jump from your spot, turning to find a short worker, an attendant wearing the cruise uniform while adorning a warm smile.    “You scared the living daylights out of me!” you harshly whisper, holding your hand over your unbeating heart.   “My apologies, ma’am. I was just asking if you’re lost. Or are you looking for the way to the casino for our gambling night?”   That’s right. You’ve lost sight as to why you came here.   It’s supposed to be a break, a break from your job, from your stress, from your intimidating boss that never appears at work anyways. You shouldn’t have lost focus on it. You paid a lot of gold coins to be here.   “Where is it again?”   “Oh, turn to your left, walk down the hall and just take the elevator to the third floor. You’ll be right there! Hard to miss.”   “Thanks…”   You shouldn’t waste such a good trip.   Once you arrive at the floor, the intoxicating air overwhelms your senses. It’s hard to think, and the many lights blind your vision, a mosaic of colours that makes the surroundings a whirlwind. There’s the crisp sound of cards divided up, tables and roulette boards spinning, machines being pulled and coins falling out the slots.   Someone hands you a drink and you grasp onto it to stay grounded. But sipping the liquid only intensifies the experience.   You stand back to watch the demons play, gambling the lives of humans souls indebted to them.   “I was looking for you.” A voice pipes up beside you, and you’re genuinely scared this time.   The entity manifested beside you, looking straight ahead. You wonder why you even tried to run today. There’s no point. He’s the devil.   “Why?”   “Just cause.” Seokjin grins, turning his head to stare at you. He’s dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbow, black trousers tight around his thighs — he’s missing the traditional, black cape that calls attention whenever he steps into the room. “You’re my favourite little worker. So it’s nice to see you in a different setting.”   You aren’t particularly amused. “Where have you been?”   Seokjin shrugs. “Around.”   You thought because he’d be busy with other affairs which would be understandable considering his status in this realm. But to hear such a nonchalant answer brings forth more questions to your mind. “Why haven’t you been to work?”   “I don’t like work much, but you already knew that.” His eyes twinkle with playfulness and plump lips pull into yet another sly smirk. Jin’s voice moves down a pitch into a rumbling timbre. “Plus, how could I ever replace you? You’re the best at my job.”   You don’t know what to say to that, so you take a sip of your drink. There’s too many questions still left unanswered, but you don’t bother asking.   This is all a game to him anyways. He followed you here to pester you on your break, to ruin your chances of rest.   Seokjin is truly the devil.   “Let’s play a game, Y/N,” he sing-songs. “Should we bet?”   “Bet what?” you ask, hesitating. It was never good to make deals with the devil.   He leans in closer, overwhelming you with his aroma and blocking out the intoxicating air manufactured to create a greedy atmosphere. “If I win, I get to kiss you.”   Seokjin laughs at your disgusted expression. He’s a sadist through and through. The damned devil loves seeing pain on your face.   “And if you win, I’ll come back to work. How about that?”   You don’t get a chance to answer before you’re brought over to the poker table. The two of you play a long game, lifting your cards for only your eyes, pupils flickering up to meet his and trying to read his expression. But you should’ve known. He’s too good at bluffing. He’s the devil after all.   And he always wins.   “A deal’s a deal and you made a deal with the devil.”   Seokjin wolfishly smiles when the pair of you join together again and he taps his pink, plush lips with a single finger. Everything about him is made to tempt others — from his clear skin to his eyes shining with endless greed. There’s a gravitational pull that comes from his perfect exterior. He’s a marble sculpture made from the gods’ temptations.   But you don’t feel seduced as you do feel burdened.   “I never agreed to it, did I?”   The devil’s brow quirks and he bursts out laughing. “Now that’s not fair.”   “No, but it is true.”   You walk away before he can put his mouth on you and above the coins clicking, the machines being pulled, you hear the smirk in his voice. “What a sore loser.”   Seokjin is good at reminding you that you’re in hell.   //   The next morning, there’s a loud knock at your door.   “Room service! Good morning, Miss Y/N.” The worker wheels the whole cart in, and your eyes are wide with what he presents you. There’s more edible arrangements, platter of fruits and vegetables and a whole stack of pancakes. “I hope I didn’t awake you from any sleep.”   “Oh no, it’s fine.”   The girl beside him clasps her hands together and presents you with a paper package, including advertisements, directory maps, and all the things you need for the day. “Today is wrath day. There will be an anger room where you can beat and smash things until you’re content. Also at noon, there will be human souls up on the top deck that you can freely torture. We collected the scum of the pit and don’t worry, they’ll be disposed there as well.”   “There’s also a complimentary hate letter you can write to the person you most despise,” the demon boy exclaims with a happy grin.   “We won’t send them,” the girl clarifies. “Don’t worry. We burn them in a pit of fire, but hopefully it can ease some of your anger.”   You thank them for their services and they bow their heads, taking their leave. For the first little while, you chew on some breakfast and go through the package. None of the activities seem particularly appealing to you, but you keep an open mind, deciding to head up to the main deck afterwards.   And of course, Seokjin is taking full advantage of the activities.   There’s a blood-curdling scream.   “Arrow, please.” His palm is out and the worker places another arrow in the devil’s hands. Seokjin positions and fires again, piercing the human in the shoulder, pinning him against the wooden wall. There’s another scream that makes you wince from the sheer volume.    It’s like he’s playing darts.   There are screeches everywhere, pain felt but the humans unable to die.   Seokjin catches sight of you as you’re looking around.   “Y/N!” He waves over with an enormous grin. “Come join me.”   “Thank you, but I’d rather not,” you politely decline.   He shakes his head in feigned disapproval, yet continues to draw his bow when another arrow is handed to him. “You’re too uptight. You’re always dealing with souls, don’t you want to play with one?”   “I work with so many souls, I’d rather not have to deal with them on my down time.”   “You always have rebuttals, don’t you?” Seokjin muses, mostly to himself, and then smiles. “But fair enough.”   You step by his side, watching him fire yet another arrow to the human that’s already died.   You must admit, the screams are kind of delightful.    You turn to watch a demon rip apart someone’s limbs and dangle it in front of them, another throwing someone off the ship into the red canal. And you overlook one of the humans in their pen glaring right at you.    He recognizes you.    You’re the one who dragged him here, who judged his soul and deemed him evil enough for hell. He screams and jumps from his pen, escaping the railings with the vigour of a vengeance boiling for an eternity. He swipes a knife from the table of weapons.   There are gasps of workers. Demons that turn. Seokjin’s eyes harden. His arm drops, bow by his side. You look down. The blade of the knife is poking through your abdomen, the tip of it exposed on the other side and shining from the little light of the overcasted red sky.    “You brought me here! Demon! Witch! You—”   “You know I can’t die, right?” you interrupt with half a glare, more annoyed than anything.   You pull the blade out of you and the metal clangs on the wooden deck. The workers rush over and five of them apprehend the screaming human to chuck him overboard. There’s a loud splash in the canal and others rush to your side, fussing about and apologizing.   “Were you not watching them?!” Seokjin shouts with the true wrath of the devil.   “We are so sorry, we sincerely apologize for any inconvenience.”   “I’ve never seen such an unprofessional group in my entire existence!” he barks back at them.   You watch him and sigh.   Seokjin is baffled beyond belief, berating the workers for not being careful enough, for not securing the pen. He yells at them to clean up the mess, making an absolute ruckus. When his anger simmers down, he turns around, about to ask if you’re alright.   But unfortunately you’re gone. You’ve escaped, vanished out of thin air.   //   Angry?   You used to be angry a lot but then the futile emotion became crushed by the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. After a millennium, you’re too stressed and tired to be angry. Being angry took too much energy.   You retire to your room early, just before dinner, and while you’re wondering if you should rest, your eyes catch the open letter on the vanity. You contemplate for a while before you finally decide to sit down. You grab the quill and dip the tip into the pot of ink. Never has it been easier to write a letter. A letter of hatred towards the devil, Kim Seokjin.   It’s been known that the lazy devil makes your life harder than need be. He draws attention in ways you don’t want it to be drawn. He’s never there when you need him and there when you don’t.   He’s a lazy bastard who never gets work done. Who always pours endless tasks on your shoulders for you to bear. Who never shows up to work. Who never appreciates anything you have to do. He’s sick and sadistic, ego bigger than his own head.   Seokjin is a pathetic leader.   It feels good to write it out, to put your thoughts onto paper. The ink stains the parchment quickly, curves and loops of your letters smooth. You breathe a sigh of relief as you finish and lick the envelope closed, wrapping it up.   He’ll never see it, but it was pleasant to put your anger on tangible material. It’s liberating. And for a brief period, you feel less stressed.   You toss the hate letter aside for pickup.

The worker hums to himself, sack in hand that’s heavy and filled with letters ready to be tossed and burned. He’s had a long day of working and this was his last job before he can rest. But once he exits your room, he’s suddenly stopped in the hallway.   “Mr. Kim.” He recognizes him like everyone else. Once they heard the devil was arriving, they made sure to iron their dark blue uniforms and ensure things were in tip-top shape.   The devil beckons him over once with his hand. “I’d like to see Miss Y/N’s letter.”   “I...I’m sorry, I can’t do that. That’s against policy. We assured all guests that they are entitled to their own privacy and, uh, that would be going against the rules.”   “Rules?” His gaze darkens, becoming cold. Seokjin reminds him, “I’m the devil.”

When you open the door to your room, shivers crawl up your skin, traveling down your spine. You flicker on the light to discover someone seated in the armchair in the corner of the room. Their broad backside faces you.   “I wish you would know how much you stress me out.” He pauses and exhales thoughtfully. “When you’re around me, you stress me out. When you’re not around, you stress me out. I think you truly make hell hell, so congratulations for at least doing one job correctly.”   Mortified is an understatement.   You’re frozen in your spot. The door closes behind you from the momentum. You’re trapped in a room with him, and the devil turns his head to greet you with a smile. Your letter is open in his hand. “I’m surprised, Y/N. I knew you didn’t like me, but I didn’t know you hated me so much.”   He puts it down, slowly rises to his feet and closes the distance between your physical bodies within three strides. “But if you felt so strongly about me, you should’ve said something.”   Seokjin corners you in your small room until your back is pressed against the surface of the door.    “If I felt strongly or not, why should I tell you?” you ask, voice unintentionally shaking.   Even in such a moment, you’re still playing devil’s advocate. It makes him smirk. “Because I’d like to know.”   He’s close to you, aura heavy and imposing. Seokjin doesn’t touch you but you can feel him.   And strangely enough, he doesn’t punish you in the way you think he would for thinking such ill thoughts of him.   “You still owe me that kiss. You can kiss me hard if you want — to try to relent your anger and what was it again? Oh yeah, tell me what a pathetic leader I am.”   Your eyes meet his — yours stern, but his softened. Despite Seokjin’s greased words, he steps back and you move out of the way. He reaches for the door knob.   “You weren’t supposed to read it,” you mutter before he can leave. “Are you…”   “Angry?” There’s a ghost of a tender smile on his features. He doesn’t look at you. He simply sighs. “No, I’m not.”   The male opens the door, but lingers. He decides to grace you with the profile of his beautiful visage. “Earlier. When you stabbed. Are you okay?”   “I, uh, I’m fine.”   “Good.”   //   The following day is dedicated to gluttony. All over the cruise ship are demons feasting, eating, drinking, consumption galore. The banquet hall is vast with a table stretching across the space — every inch of the surface covered in luxurious dishes. The floor is also soaked with wine, the liquid that haphazardly splashed over the rim of demons’ glasses.   It’s hard to resist eating and drinking copious amounts when the gravity quite literally pulls you in. And Seokjin finds you there, leaning on the wall, hand glued to your glass, intoxicated enough not to jump when you see him.   “I never took you for a drinker.” He wears an amused smile as he takes your sloppy form in.   “On the contrary.” You wave a finger in the air. “Why didn't you take me as a drinker?”   “That doesn't make any sense.”   You eye him with a slight pout. “Why aren't you drinking?”   Seokjin shrugs and looks around. “These childish spells don't affect me.”   “Psh. Don't act like you're better 'cause you're the devil.”   “But I am better because I'm the devil.” He smirks. “Stronger. Resistant. Handsomer.”   “Handsomer's not a word. ‘t's more handsome.”   “You're fun at parties.”   “Hey, it's my job.” You sigh, trying to reason with him. “My job that you gave me. I just gotta play the devil's advocate.”   Seokjin smiles, a puff of air leaving his nose. He leans on the wall beside you, looking out and you take the chance to blatantly stare at him, openly ogling. You muse that he almost looks...normal like this. Well, as normal as demons can get. He’s not so imposing.   “Are you sad?”   “What?”   “I wanted to ask if you were sad, not mad. Over my letter.”   “Pft. Sad? I don't get sad. I'm the devil,” he declares as if you need to be reminded.   “Doesn’t mean you can’t be sad,” you huff, “Then you're not hurt?”   “Not really.” The devil lolls his head to the side, peeking at you when you keep staring at him. “I'm already hated by many in every realm. I thrive off the hatred.”   His eyes glimmer with mischief and he leans down to connect his eyes with you at the same level. His breath is on your skin, so close that you can see his lashes one by one. But you don’t move away or lean back as you usually would. Your interest is piqued.   The corners of Seokjin’s plump lips pull.   In the chaos of the masses eating and devouring food like monsters, there’s a private, intimate moment tucked away in the corner of the banquet hall where it’s just you and him. “It's not like I don't deserve it anyways. I'm not a 'good' entity. Since when did the devil help anyone?”   “Since when did the devil need to help anyone?” you ask on impulse. It’s become your pure instincts to doubt everything told to you. “Since when did anyone need help?”   “You're right.” Seokjin grins wolfishly. “But the alternative of hatred is love anyways, and that's sickening.”   There’s a second of silence.   And then you burst out laughing.   Seokjin whips his head over, watching the sound leaving your lips.    “I should bring you love then, just to make you suffer then,” your words slur as you poke his shoulder. “But knowing you, you'd probably enjoy suffering too because you're that sick and twisted.”   The corners of his mouth tugs into yet another smile as a light scoff leaves his throat. The devil can’t love, but what he feels towards you is what he thinks is pretty damn close to it.   //   The day that follows if focused on envy.   The workers greet you with another package of activities to do and a promise that they can get you one thing you’ve always wanted, if it’s within their abilities. But you don’t know what to tell them.   You end up loitering around for most of the day, checking facilities and eating, walking around until night falls where you head down to the luxurious bar, drawn in by the blue lights and entrancing music.    Halfway through nursing a drink at the counter, someone slides up on the stool next to you. It’s not the person you were anticipating unfortunately. Wait.   Unfortunately?   You wonder why you automatically thought it was unfortunate. You momentarily ponder why you were filled with a brief emotion of disappointment when it wasn’t the person you expected.   “Hi, I was just sitting across the bar, but I couldn’t help coming over and telling you that you look stunning in that dress.”   It’s a demon with doe eyes and a boyish smile. He makes you look down at yourself to inspect the rather simple number — compared to the layered robes you often have to show up in for the judgment process, this was just a floor length dress, black and sleek with one sleeve and the other side off the shoulder.   “Thanks.”   “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”   He puts out his hand and you shake it after a short pause. “L/N Y/N.”   “Sounds familiar,” he hums, red eyes piercing through yours. The demon plasters on a grin. “Do I know you from somewhere?”   “Probably not.”   “You’re right. I would’ve remembered someone so beautiful.” The grease reminds you of that someone you thought would have appeared by now, but the stranger isn’t as smooth when he says the one-liners. It doesn’t sound as pleasant to the ears. “Can I buy you a drink, Y/N?”   “Um…”   “Sorry, I’m already buying her one.”   Another voice pipes up — the person you were unknowingly waiting for finally manifested himself.    Kim Seokjin appears with his hair pushed back, forehead on full display, dressed in another one of his dress shirts with sleeves rolled up and casual trousers deliciously tight around the thighs. His pink, plump lips quirk into a smile as he looks at you. Meanwhile, Jungkook visibly pales.   “Oh. Sorry, I, I didn’t know she was, uh, um…” The stranger recognizes you now. With you beside the devil, he recalls where he’s seen you before.   You’re the devil’s advocate. “Yeah, why don’t you get lost?” Seokjin moves his head to the side and Jungkook slides off the stool so quickly, he almost loses footing and falls flat on his face. Luckily, he catches himself and you watch him sprint away practically with his tail caught between his legs.   What a shame. “He was nice.”   “I bet he was,” he mutters, glaring at the fleeting demon’s backside with a force that could light the entire place aflame.   “Kind of cute too.” You turn your head to look back at Seokjin. You’re not sure why it’s so fun to aggravate him at the moment. Maybe you realized it’s a way to get under his skin. “You didn’t have to scare him off.”   “Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten scared so easily,” he refutes and it’s a rather good point. Jin orders a drink, getting served immediately. He sips on it and peeks at you through the rim of his glass. “Were you going to reject him or were you planning on getting his room key?”   “Does it matter?” Your elbow is to the counter, chin casually rested in your palm. You’re discreetly challenging him and it’s a dangerous game, but one you feel like playing tonight. “Shouldn’t I be enjoying myself to the fullest extent, Seokjin?”   His brow quirks at how you call him by his name directly. “I don’t like people associated with me playing with sub-par trash. It makes me look bad.”   “Or it makes you look inclusive.”   The devil scoffs. “You always have a way to argue, don’t you?”   “It’s my job.”   He hums a low note and redirects his gaze at you. “Want to go outside for a breather?”   “I don’t think hell’s air is very fresh, but sure.”   The two of you try to exit the noisy bar. You struggle to weave through the crowd of sweaty demons dancing and grinding on one another. But then Seokjin grasps your shoulder tenderly and shifts you to walk behind him. You realize that the mass of demons splits when he walks through. Even in their inebriated state, they know to cower down and move out the way.   Once it’s clear, you open the west-side door and enter a quiet area absent from any other entity. It’s easier to breathe out here, silent, and you lean against the ship’s railing to watch how the canal’s water glows a deep crimson hue. The ship moves through it, and you listen to the noise of the water sloshing against the side of the ship.   When your head tilts up, you stare at the mahogany sky nearing black.   “I heard the human realm was really beautiful. Apparently they have something called stars and it appears at night. They’re tiny but they twinkle. Have you heard of them?”   He doesn’t respond, but he lifts his hand and waves his palm up. Suddenly, the sky is blanketed in complete black. The shade bleeds throughout, sweeping across the horizon, and you furrow your brows unable to understand what he’s doing. But as you stare, tiny sparkles become apparent.   “They’re only an illusion, but it’s the best I can do,” he breathes out.   Your eyes are wide and you glance at him. “I….I love it….”   “Good.”   Seokjin grins when a smile expands across your face. The stars gleam like jewels spilled across the canvas — what you’ve heard and read about for so long finally in front of you. They sparkle from the distance, glittering, and the longer you stare, more appear. The entire horizon soon becomes filled with them, and you’re breathless.   It’s a shame only you and Seokjin can view them.   “Are you seeing this?” You hold your hand out, trying to gesture. The more you stare, the more it sinks in just how spectacular this feat is. You’ve only ever seen the sky black, red, and maybe a shade of azure when you reach the in-between of the gates of Heaven and Hell. You’re seeing stars for the first time and it’s more amazing than you thought was possible. “Holy hell!”   “Not sure how hell could be holy,” Seokjin laughs and stares at you with a smile. “Do you really like it this much? You’re so simple. I could’ve done this ages ago.”   “I didn’t know…..”   “You could’ve asked.”   “Yeah, but you never answer me anyways when I call,” you murmur without thinking twice, unaware of how his gaze on you softens. Your hands against the railing tighten and you exhale. But eventually, you focus again when it occurs to you such a long stretch of silence has passed in comfortable silence. “What did you request today? Did they fulfill any of your wishes?”   Seokjin leans against the railing and tilts his head to stare at you. “I asked for something they can’t give me.” You meet his intense eyes, wondering what he means. The corner of his plump lips pulls and he blinks, easing. “What did you ask for?”   “It’s also something they can’t give to me.”   “What is it?”   “Your job.”   The devil chuckles, head lolling up to look at you. “Why would you want that? Don’t you hate working for me?”   “Exactly. I hate working for you. I’d rather take over. I would restructure the entire system, I’d delegate more duties, lessen my own workload, I’d be able to prepare better instead of working so last minute.”   “Sounds like you have a whole plan.”   “I may or may not have spent a lot of time thinking about it,” you hum in slight pride.   Seokjin grins and shakes his head. “Too bad the position at the gates is a traditional, symbolic role. The only way you’d be able to acquire it officially through proper tradition is becoming the devil’s lady.”   You know it too. Thought about it after a millennium and damned the rules that restricted your abilities so many times. The only way to claim his position completely was to wed to him and be named the devil’s lady. But it’s an absurd idea, one you never even thought twice about. Although, for some reason, the way the devil says it isn’t like he’s stating a plain, boring fact.   It’s almost as if he’s….considering it.   Seokjin leans in close. His eyes are not unlike the stars, twinkling with mischief. “Don’t tempt me.”   //   The next day that comes is your absolute favourite.   It’s what you’ve been prepared for.   When the workers knock on your door with the usual room service and daily package, you’re ecstatically tearing papers apart and reading all the descriptions, ready to take full advantage of all the activities included. After all, it’s a day of sloth — a day of guaranteed relaxation.   You start off by laying in bed the entire morning, lazing around until you head to the spa. There you get a head to toe scrub, hair and nails done, and you nap in the steam room. The masseuse is also surprised at the number of knots in your muscles and three demons end up working on you, slapping and massaging your tense muscles.   Once you’re finished, you feel like you’re floating on air. For the first time in a thousand years, you’re stress-free. Nothing could ruin your mood. Not even Kim Seokjin.   You head up to the deck for another nap, claiming a lounge chair in the corner, and being as quiet as possible to not disturb other demons sleeping away. But before you can drift off, the warm light on your skin ceases. You feel a shadow overtop of you. And you slide your sunglasses down the slope of your nose.   The devil looms over your body with a smirk.    “Looks like someone’s been enjoying themselves.”   You sit up and instantly pull him down to sit beside you. Jin’s brows are lifted in surprise from the affectionate invitation. You grin at him. “Have you been down to the spa yet?”   “No.”   “Hell, you need to go down there right now then. It’s. Amazing. Jin.” From your sheer excitement, he grins and you giggle. Giggle. Now that’s a sound he hasn’t heard from you before. Seokjin can’t help but wonder what other sounds you can make. “You need to go to try it and get the Swedish massage. Can’t say the Shiatsu massage is as good. But try out the deep tissue one. That was good too.”   “How many massages did you have today?”   “I tried all of them,” you sing-song and sit back in your lounge chair, humming to yourself. You inspect your clean nails, the french tips done, holding your hand out in front of you.   Seokjin smiles as he looks at you. You’re so much happier and relaxed. You in your little swimsuit and your translucent, silky cover up.   “What else did you do?”   “Got my hair washed. Got my nails done. Got two kinds of facials. You should just check it out for yourself, seriously, it would be a waste if you didn’t.” Suddenly, your eyes light up over the rim of your dark sunglasses. “Should we go together?”   His plump lip pulls. “You want to go to the spa...with me?”   He’s the entity you hate the most. To be given such an invitation from you is no less shocking. But you don’t seem to care. You even laugh and swat at his arm playfully. “We can go together after I take my nap. It’s all day and I really want to get the hot stone massage again.”   “Okay.” He laughs. The devil’s not a very spa-kind of man, but he’ll go with you.   “We can head down in an hour.” You lay back again, eyes fluttering for a shut-eye, but you keep them open to look at him for a second longer. “Do you want to sleep with me?”   “Careful how you ask that question.” He smirks slyly, making you scoff.   “You know what I mean.”   Seokjin hums a low note, considering something else. “Do you want to watch a show tonight? They’re putting on something in the theater.”   “Really? Sure!” You joyfully agree, so easily at it too, cheeks inflated with your smile. He snorts at how fast you answered. It’s such a difference from your tense self. Not to mention, you’re unbothered with him sitting there at the end of your lounge chair as you drift off and he observes how you’re snoring a minute later.   You don’t realize that an idle mind is the devil’s workshop, and he’s ready to have some fun with you.   //   There’s a permanent skip in your step.    You’ve learnt to navigate the entire area of the spa and you don’t notice how everyone is intimidated with Seokjin here. Even when he’s comedically dressed in a white robe, white towels wrapped up on his head, and feet decked out with white slippers — white from top to bottom as if he’s wearing the skin of an angel. Each demon moves out of the way when they realize the devil is here. But he pays no mind to them, following after you. You, who looks like a true angel with how you smile and how radiant you shine in pure white…..   Although the exterior is a bit ruined when you bark at the masseuses to dig into your muscles harder.   You’re even more giddy after you take your third nap in the steam room and he enjoys dinner with you. It’s hard not to when you’re such great company, and you don’t seem to bat a lash when you glue yourself by his side, joining him to watch the evening show.    It’s a game show of some sort, couples on honeymoons together and answering trivia questions about one another. Seokjin sits beside you, a bit bored as he rests his chin in his hand, elbow on the arm rest. His mind wanders before he finds himself glancing over at you.   You seem to be enjoying yourself and that’s enough for him to sit through it.   He wonders what it takes to make you happy like this all the time.   But eventually his train of thought is interrupted when he catches your eye, when he notices you peeking at him at the corner of your vision, trying to glance at him. His lip tugs into another smirk.   Seokjin leans in close. “Y/N.”   He whispers your name into your ear, hot breath skimming on your skin, and he watches the way goosebumps raise over the back of your arms. He pauses for added suspense.   And then he exhales. “You can kiss me if you want. I wouldn’t stop you.”   An immediate frown forms, your lips lopsided, your entire body stiff again. That’s all that’s needed to make you tense again — it’s so easy that it’s amusing. He laughs quietly at your glare.   One of these days, he knows you’ll give into his outlandish idea. Seokjin just can’t help planting the seed there.   //   Right after your favourite day is your least favourite. Lust.    You’re shaken awake in the morning by a sudden bang. It comes from the room next over despite the walls supposedly being soundproof. You would think someone was being tortured or punching the wall over and over again, but what follows the noises that are loud enough to leak through are moans and whines of ‘harder’.   You are sorely not impressed.   “There’s an orgy party tonight,” Seokjin tells you, crowding beside you at the breakfast buffet. It’s hard to ignore the smacking sound of kissing occurring behind the food bar and it makes the food unappetizing.   “I heard.”   “Are you coming?”   “I don’t know.”   “You should.”   “Why?” you question his insistence.   “I would explain to you what I’ve heard about it, but it would be a...mouthful.” Seokjin fully intends the pun, irises sparkling with mischief.    You feign a glare at him, and he follows you to a table, sitting across from you. The devil digs into his sweet stack of waffles, and tears his teeth into a medium rare steak.   “You’re gross.”   “It’s not gross if you feel the same way.”   “Who said I do?”   “Who says you don’t?” he challenges, bringing your lips into a smirk.   The two of you banter back and forth, and you don’t realize that you’re having breakfast with him willingly. That you’re tucked into the corner of the restaurant serving leftovers from the feast from the day of gluttony. You’ve both fallen into a natural course, fallen in line with one another unconsciously. It’s too easy to be in each other’s presence.   But eventually you part ways, and it’s difficult to weave your way out of the bodies pressed together. Guests are practically dry humping one another and the workers are actively encouraging the lust. You guess this is what they mean by indulging in the sins.   You retire to your room early to escape the scandalous sights.   But your sanctuary is interrupted with a knock on the door.   “Good afternoon, Miss Y/N.” The worker greets you, holding onto a clipboard like a door to door salesman.   “Is there something I can help you with?”   “We were just wondering if you were going to attend tonight’s event. We’d like to know about how many people are coming so we can accommodate them properly.”   “Oh.”   "If you are to attend, we have complementary masks to wear." The worker smiles, cheeks rosy.   A masquerade orgy isn't appealing to you. But your thoughts stray to a certain someone who asked you if you were coming this very morning. Someone with dark hair and dark eyes staring into yours. Someone whose plump lips always pulls into that sly smirk and makes you feel a certain kind of way.   "Sure."   Why not. You came here for new experiences after all.    "Fantastic!" The worker exclaims and gestures down the hall. You hear wheels rolling against the carpet and a girl appears with a cart showing a selection of masks. "Feel free to choose whatever is appealing. We also have a catalogue you can order from for free if none of these are to your satisfaction."   You look over them, from the intricate designs in gold and red, to those decorated with jewels and ribbons, and ones delicately painted. But one in particular catches your attention.   "This one’s fine."   You pick the black lace mask, one that's simple but sufficient.   The night arrives sooner than expected. The sky turns a shade of deep mahogany without a moon or sparkle in sight, clouding the horizon over in uncertainty, while the canal glows a hue of rose.   You enter the ballroom on the fourth floor in a black floor length dress, a slit on your left side to top of your thigh. Others seemed to be dressed even more luxuriously, while some of them are already nude and their clothing littered on the ground.   The room is a circular space, ceiling high with paintings of angels on it — ironically to overlook the sinning. The columns spiral high, decorated with gold and made from shiny porcelain like the floor tiles. Slow music plays in the background, accompanying the soft smacking noise of mouths colliding. There are also chaise lounge chairs off to the side, curtains drawn to cover the private areas. But the shadows and silhouettes show they’re doing something less than decent.   There are three or four people participating behind the curtains, those participating, those watching, those that like to be watched. You even catch moans and whimpers as you pass by.   By oddly enough, instead of disgusted, you feel entranced.   Suddenly someone’s warm arm slinks across your abdomen, rough hands that find purchase on your waist. You gasp as your ass is shoved against their hardening groin. Their other hand palms the meat of your ass. And you find yourself giving in, leaning closer to the body heat that feels like cozy flames.    You turn around, meeting brown, doe eyes behind a white mask. You swallow your mouthful of saliva. Their lips look so soft, irresistible. You surrender without an ounce of self-control, this time to the temptation. The man leans in as well—   But then you’re suddenly yanked away by another.   The spell breaks.    “Buzz of. This is mine.” It’s a familiar voice, a sonorous tone but rumbling timbre. The doe-eyed man nods wordlessly and stumbles back into the crowd.   “Jin?”   Where he’s encircled your wrist, you can feel how his skin is warmer than the stranger’s, like a fire is burning underneath his flesh. Behind the black mask, with tiny sparkles that remind you of the stars, are eyes you recognize — dark pools like chocolate, full of indulgence.    Instantly, he lets you go.   “I’m sorry…”   You’re bewitched by him. And you cave into the magnetizing pull. You latch onto him before he can leave. “You shouldn’t have any reason to be sorry.”   The devil meets your gaze.    Everything about him is to lure and entice you, meant for you to indulge in. From the pinkness and plumpness of his lips, to his eyes that are shaped soft and sheepish. His sculpted face, his scent, the sound of his voice...   The devil would never come to such an event to get himself dirty with lowly demons. His hubris is much too high to be touched by strangers. He’s here for a specific purpose — and you think you know what it might be, or rather, for who.   “There’s a reason you’re here, right?”   Seokjin knows you well too, knows that you don’t like to be touched by strangers. His mouth pulls into a smile. “Do you have the same reason as I do?”   You grasp onto the collar of his fitted suit, lust overwhelming you. He stares at your mouth through half-lidded eyes, his own parted.    “I...don’t want this to affect my job,” you murmur, breath already on his.   “It’s going to affect it either way. You’ve stopped being just my advocate long ago.” His large hands hold your hips. “Why do you think I always skip out on my duties? I have to make sure not to come and replace you. I need a reason to keep you around.”   “You bastard.”   The puzzles you had finally click into place. The dots connect. It makes sense, more than it ever has.   “I know.”   “You’re a selfish prick. But one I still owe a kiss to.”   Finally after a millennium, you relinquish your dignity and fully indulge in Kim Seokjin.   You dance with the devil, mouth pushing against his. Immediately, he deepens it, slipping his hot tongue in to claim you as his. Seokjin makes your lips swell as he kisses you hungrily. Sinfully.   He savours your muffled groan as you feel yourself wrapping in the heat that emanates off his body, drowning in his scent. The devil’s lips are of velvet, addicting, and you can’t stop. You’re too frantic to notice that his eyes are still half-lidded, drinking in your pleasured expression.   But in the middle of the kiss, you sense someone else’s presence. Your eyes peel back to see a female stroking her hands over his broad shoulders. You break apart with a forceful smack, thin string of saliva breaking.    “Fuck off,” you spit at her.   The female demon doesn’t hear you. Her hands slowly trail downwards to the thick lump forming in his tight trousers. But Seokjin catches her wandering palms before she can actually touch him. He throws her arms off him. “You heard her. You’re not invited.”   She openly scoffs, and rolls her eyes before walking away.   You won’t let third parties in. You won’t let anyone else touch him. You’re too selfish and greedy to do so.   “Let’s get out of here.”   Seokjin locks his hands in yours, and you’re finally able to revel in how he looks in his fitted suit, how broad his shoulders are, the thickness of his thighs.    Even when you leave the ballroom, the lustful atmosphere never lessens. Instead, the suspense builds. The tension becomes overwhelming. It’s awkward to stand in the elevator and listen to the boring jazz, suffocating in the small space. The heat is tangible.   You end up tackling Seokjin against the wall. You kiss away his laugh by shoving your tongue down his throat. It’s obscene but you don’t care much for your pride at the moment.   “I won’t be seen fornicating in the elevator,” the devil scolds in a low tone, peeling you away after another ravenous make out session, his grip having been tight on your thigh. “Come on.”   Seokjin leads you to his floor, and the door automatically opens when he steps in front of it. The lust is instantly exchanged for amazement.   His suite room is breathtaking, private windows allowing a wide view of the red canal and the horizon. It’s an open space with many rooms, a luxurious bathroom and enormous bed. Like his own personal home.   “This….this….h-how much does this even cost?!”   “Does it matter?” Seokjin loosens his tie. He chuckles watching you run around, checking all the rooms and inspecting the furniture. “I would’ve invited you sooner, but I didn’t want to get slapped.”   You scoff in the other room, and he follows after you. “You know I can’t slap you.”    “Yeah, but you always look like you want to.”   “Just cause I want to, doesn’t mean I can or will do it.”   “Alright, enough of this chit chat.”   Seokjin picks you up from where you’re marveling at his closet. He heaves you up and over his shoulder, carrying you across his suite and he lightly tosses you onto his soft mattress. The devil corners you. He grabs your ankle when you playfully try to escape and he climbs on top of you, straddling your waist to trap you in place.   “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispers as he relishes the way you’re pinned beneath him.   You cock your head to the side. “Really? I think if you were waiting for that long, you would’ve done something about a century ago.”   Seokjin sighs at how you’re trying to pick an argument with him even in such a situation. “Love, if you don’t stop trying to pick fights with me, I’m going to gag you with your own underwear.”   You would nod and be obedient. But it’s intrinsic for you to doubt.    Instinctively, the words spill out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Why are you assuming I have underwear on?”   A muscle in his cheek twitches. Seokjin flips you over, and instantaneously delivers a slap to the meat of your ass. You moan, arching into him, but you quickly turn your head with a frown.   “What was that for?!”   “You know what it’s for,” Jin barks. “It’s going to be a long night if you don’t listen to me, Y/N.”   The devil follows through with his word. It indeed becomes a long, long night.   It’s too delicious to see his irritation. How his ears can turn into a shade of scarlet that matches the colour rising from his neck to his forehead. But you bend to his will after a while, giving into his command.    It’s the most sinning you’ve done. The most indulgent you’ve ever been. Seokjin’s sweat drips on top of you before it’s your sweat on him when you get on top. He’s merciless, leaving bruises along your thighs from his tight grip and where he kept your legs spread. He leaves blue, purple, red marks along the column of your neck. You sink down on his cock enough times that your cunt stretches out to match his girth and length into a perfect, snug fit. And you get to know the flavour of each other’s spit and cum until it’s all you can taste.   You’re glad no one shares Seokjin’s walls or else they’d hear the way your voice grows hoarse over the course of the night. They’d hear the creak of the bed, the slamming of the headboard. Anyone on the same floor would hear your name groaned through those beautiful lips licking into you.   You’re sure if there was another level to hell or damnation — you and Seokjin will be arriving there in each other’s arms.   //   The last day of the cruise finally arrives and you’re devastated.   Tomorrow, you’ll return to work and continue the cycle of late nights preparing documents and affidavits and judging human souls in line at purgatory only for them to scream obscenities at you no matter what gate they end up entering.   Your train of thought is interrupted by a knock on the door.   “G-Good morning, Miss. Y/N!” The male worker jumps, surprised to discover you answering the door. “I didn’t think you’d be in your room.”   “Where else would I be?” you deadpan.   The female demon worker smiles and steps forward. “We have room service for you!”   You widen the door and they wheel the cart in. “We just wanted to ask about your stay here and if there were any concerns whatsoever.”   “Oh no.” You bat your hand. “It was absolutely lovely. Thank you for the past seven days. It couldn’t have gone better.”   “That’s great to hear.” They grin and gesture to the pamphlet placed with your meal.   “We’d also like to mention that there’s a honeymoon package and an express cruise that travels to all three realms, hell, heaven, and human. It’s just a promotion. I thought I’d mention it.”   You laugh, nodding. “Okay, thank you.”   “There’s one event left. A farewell party for tonight for all guests on this trip.”    You receive the invitation. Today’s a day of pride and in its celebration, the cruise has a farewell ceremony where they read each guests’ accomplishments. It’s a sweet gesture, perfect to top off the trip.   But you can’t fully look forward to it when you’re plagued by your thoughts. You still haven’t decided if last night was a mistake, if it was just the lust in the air.    Seokjin was insatiable, that much was clear, and you swear you feel permanently hot in your face. The in between of your legs still ache whenever you move. It’s impossible to try to forget or disregard what occurred. And when you’re unable to cover up his marks all over your neck, you find yourself deciding to wear it with pride.   You wonder how he feels about last night too. If the devil simply likes to spoil his advocates.   But your questions are answered when you see him again at the party.   “Evening.”   “Good evening.”   You raise your wine glasses up at one another in mutual acknowledgment before turning to watch the room. The pair of you are tucked in the corner again as if you were the hosts and everyone else were guests in your domain.   The silence broken by him. “It was...regrettable that you ran out so soon this morning.”   You agree. “It was regrettable, but it’s the right thing to do.”   “You think with your head too much sometimes,” Seokjin muses.   “Jeon Jungkook,” the worker on stage announces into the staticy mic. “He has tricked twenty four humans into giving their soul to him.” There’s a collective ‘ooh’ from other workers and a loud applause. “He works in marketing and coworkers call him proactive!”   They allow every guest to indulge in their own pride and you don’t expect much as you watch, but then your name is called. “The devil’s advocate, L/N Y/N.”   “Persuasive and diligent. In her existence thus far, she’s captured two hundred forty three souls before working for the devil where she’s passed judgment for eighty six hundred thousand sixty six human souls,” they continue to read your long list of accomplishments and it’s seemingly never ending. The worker runs out of breath and has to take a drink of water to keep going.   The devil is in the details after all.   But you didn’t realize you had done so much.   “Impressive.” Seokjin nudges you with a quirked brow and an amused smile.   Suddenly, you’re called on again. “L/N Y/N, will you please come onto the stage to receive a special award.”   “What?”   “Don’t just stand there, idiot.” Seokjin mischievously bumps you forward and your steps stagger. With half a mind, you pass the tables and demons watching you, up the stairs to the modest stage. The spotlight is absolutely blinding.   The worker shakes your hand and gives you a golden frame. Inside is a certificate of accomplishment. It’s stamped with the crest of hell, the official insignia of honour.    “It was signed by the devil, himself,” the worker tells you privately. “He insisted that it would be given to you. Congratulations, Miss Y/N.”   There’s a roar of applause. Your eyes stray off the side to see him, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, a proud smile placed on his features. Something blooms inside your chest.   Finally, you’ve received recognition for what you’ve done, for all your hard work.   You step off stage, cutting through the crowd to get to him. But then you’re stopped by yet another worker. “Miss. Y/N, thank you for being a part of Sins Cruise Line. We’d like to gift you this photo album compiling your best moments of this trip.”   “Oh, t-thank you.”   You move off and out of the way to open the leather album. What you find are photographs you didn’t know the workers took. There’s a picture of you stepping on this ship for the first time and looking out at the horizon with your drink in hand and the wind blowing through your hair. There’s another with you sitting across the poker table and Seokjin on the other side, the dim lights shining on your heads and illuminating your faces.   You continue to flip through, and you discover countless pictures of you and Seokjin together.   Him shooting at a human with you standing beside him. Laughing with Seokjin while you’re both in the corner of the feasting room. Out on the lounge chairs together. At the spa. Watching a show in the theater room. Looking into each other’s eyes in the ballroom before your shared kiss.   They’re beautiful photographs — precious moments captured in time. You didn’t realize you looked at him in such a way, or that he looked at you so tenderly.   You find Seokjin in the crowd again, as you’re grasping the album and the certificate to your chest.   “Congratulations, Miss. Devil’s Advocate.”   “I can’t believe you did all this.” You’re still breathless, unable to comprehend why he would go to such lengths for you.   “You deserve it.” Seokjin matches your softened smile. “Are you sad about leaving?”   “Can’t say I’m excited to go,” you admit. “But I have to go back. There’s probably a lot that’s piled up. Taehyung doesn’t know how to work on cases properly.”   “Well, take it easy,” the devil says with a grin and stares at you for a moment. It’s silent, the two of you gazing at one another, but then he catches himself and inhales a breath. “Actually, I’m planning on restructuring some things. I want to delegate more duties and lessen workloads so others can better prepare instead of working so last minute.”   His eyes twinkle with mischief. He literally took the words right out of your mouth, quoting you exactly. “I’m going to need some advice and personal help for the next while.”   “Personal help?” Your brows raise with a giggle.   “Personal help.” Seokjin nods. “Hey, you’re free right now, right? Do you want to talk it over during dinner?”   Laughter bubbles out of you and your gaze becomes tender. “I’d love to.”

It was undoubtedly hard to walk off that cruise ship.   A part of you wishes it could last forever. But alas, all good things must come to an eventual end.   Yoongi is seated at his desk, feet propped up on the surface of said desk. He’s casually leaning back on his chair, elbow propped up on the armrest, fingers playing with a few strands of his hair. He’s humming to himself, but then he sees the demon guard move aside, and his brows raise.   He’s pleasantly surprised. “You’re early.”   “Only a little.” You smile at the angel.   “Welcome back.” He takes his feet off his desk and deadpans, “I missed you. Too many people have been getting through Heaven lately, it’s been disastrous.”   “I’m sure Taehyung wasn’t that bad,” you murmur in the demon’s defense, but it’s weak and half-hearted. You both know he’s pretty terrible — Taehyung’s impatience and lack of meticulousness isn’t exactly great for this job.   “What was worse was that he was so annoying. I’d never thought I’d say it, but I’d much prefer you. Did you enjoy your vacation?” he asks. “I heard you went on that cruise.”   You smile to yourself. “Yeah, it was good.”   “Did it live up to its name?”   You contemplate it for a moment before you find yourself nodding. “I have to say that it does.”   “Wow, just rub in your good time, bitch,” Yoongi mutters passively aggressively, glaring through the slits of his eyes. Then he relents and sighs. “I’m glad you finally took a break. You look better. Healthier.”   “Thanks. Actually, it’s really thanks to—”   “You forgot this file, Y/N.”   A voice pipes up and the guards move aside. A man appears with his cape billowing behind him, dark robes decorated with gold, official and intimidating. Yoongi’s eyeballs nearly fall out of his socket. The angel’s mouth draws open, his nostrils flared.   Seokjin is behind you and hands you the file before taking a seat beside you.    He pushes his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose, focusing downwards to the paperwork. “I have to sign where?”   “Here.”   He’s helping you, has been since you’ve gotten back.    Yoongi doesn’t try to hide his shock. You smile at the angel with a look that equally shares his pleasant surprise and shows how impressed you are.   “You two are close,” Yoongi says when he finds his power of speech again.   Seokjin lifts his chin, glances at the angel and then at you. The pair of you share a warm smile together. “I’d say we’re a bit more than close at this point.”   You already know Seokjin’s intentions — you’re his advocate after all.

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[trillian-anders]

amor de mi vida - 1946

pairing: bucky barnes x latinx!reader

warnings: racism, prejudice, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 2843

description: Bucky Barnes is a sweet young Brooklyn boy, just on the cusp of manhood, a hopeless romantic that falls in love with almost every girl he sees. when he sets his eyes on a young girl fresh off the boat from Cuba he finds out how hard love can really be.

for @cake-writes 1940s challenge.

The cries of a newborn, sweet to those who no longer have one, but frustrating to those still dealing with one. 

Christmas of 1945 was a blessed Christmas. The first grandchild receiving the most presents even though the baby hadn’t even been born yet. Hand knit booties, little caps, a crib that Bucky and Steve put together and set in the corner of your bedroom. The nursery painted and nested. 

Winnie gifted you with a rocking chair. “You’ll thank me later.” She said. And it did come in handy. The gift left in the nursery soon was dragged into your bedroom, late night feedings while you rocked both you and the baby back to sleep. 

It was a long and arduous labor. Almost a year to the day Bucky had returned. The contractions started just after breakfast and labor lasted well into the next day. It was as dawn broke that his cries broke through the air for the first time. 

Your sweet little boy. 

He was laid onto your chest, wailing halting as his skin touched yours, lips smacking for the first time in open air. His little fists clenched tight. James Buchanon Barnes II, Jaime. 

His hair, eyes, and skin were yours. Everything else was his fathers. If Bucky had brown eyes they could have been twins as a baby. 

Jaime was a good baby for the most part, alert, always looking around and didn’t cry too often. But he had a lot of trouble throughout the night in the early days. 

You resented Bucky and glared at him while he slept, Jaime suckling on your raw nipples and fatigue plagued your body. 

“How can I help?” Bucky would ask. But beside changing diapers and watching him while you napped there wasn’t much else he could do. Bucky had gotten pretty good at changing a diaper with one arm. Once every two or three months Howard would have another prototype, something else for Bucky to try but had volunteered a break while the Barnes’ got settled with their new baby. 

And a sweet baby he was. 

A spoiled baby he was. 

Winnie loved taking him. George couldn’t put him down. And the girls loved passing him around and cooing as he began to babble. 

Bucky was obsessed with his son. The man cried when he was born, when you nestled his little body in the crook of Bucky’s arm. He said, “Thank you,” with tears in his eyes, he pressed his forehead against yours, “Thank you for this.” But you were thankful. Thankful for your little family. The baby you’d been craving for so long. 

The future you wanted. 

“Can I hold him?” Peggy held her hands out, letting you place Jaime into her arms. A smile stretching across her lips. “He’s gorgeous.” 

“Thank you.” You smile, brushing a curl off his forehead.

“Howard is trying to break James down into joining us.” She says, bouncing the now giggling Jaime on her knee. “James would be an incredible asset to the team” At the moment ‘us’ was only Howard, Steve, Peggy and the rest of the commandos currently enjoying their time off having returned to their families at the end of the war. 

While you were focused on Bucky the rest of the world celebrated the end of the war. Men came home, husbands, fathers, sons… reunited with their families in the wake of the utter destruction the US laid on Hiroshima. 

“They were ready to surrender,” Steve spat, the day it was announced, his jaw hasn’t been unclenced since. “It was unnecessary.” The US did the one thing he hated, became a bully. He felt disrespected by it. Like he just went and fought to defend the helpless, take down an international crime syndicate in the name of justice, only to come home and have the United States act on a grudge. 

He now manned the small grill in your new backyard. “The kid needs a backyard.” Bucky claimed. It probably had little or nothing to do with the fact that he was a disabled war vet who was married to a Cuban woman and the stares he’d been getting pushing the pram around were starting to grate his nerves. It was in a cute little suburb outside of the city, still close enough that you could continue with dress orders and he could help George with the shop when he needed it, but far enough away that no one really knew you there. 

And no one had said anything about the two of you as a couple. Yet. 

A bottle of beer passed between the two men, while you took Jaime back into your lap. “Howard is getting close.” Peggy said, “Maybe this week.” Bucky smiled at her before turning to his son. This week maybe he’ll have his arm back. A kiss to your forehead and he scooped up the little boy from your lap, holding him tight to his chest and blowing a raspberry on his stomach. Jaime giggled and squirmed in his grip before turning his head to look back at you and cry. 

“He hates me.” Bucky sighs, the baby reaching his chubby little arms out to you. 

“He doesn’t hate you.” Jaime rests his head on your shoulder while you rub his back. His fingers gripping at your shirt. “He just loves me more.” Bucky presses his lips to yours before pressing a kiss to his son’s head of curls. 

“We need to have a girl next,” He says, “So she’ll love me more.” The entire pregnancy Bucky had been hoping for a girl. He wasn’t disappointed when you had Jaime, and he liked to spend time with him, but Jaime was definitely more attached to you. 

“I’m his food.” You laugh, “Of course he wants me more.” 

“He’s a mama’s boy.” Bucky jibed. “I want a daddy’s girl.” Steve laid out the burgers on the table, taking his seat across from Peggy. 

“Have you thought any more about it Buck?” You settled Jaime into the wooden highchair at the end of the picnic table and Bucky began to give him little pieces of squished blueberries which Jamie seemed content to play with. 

“I’m just not sure I want to be that far from my family.” He says. “We’ll talk later.” And it was always later. He didn’t want to talk about it in front of you. The danger that the missions had. You rested a hand over your belly, Jaime just learning to eat soft foods and you were already pregnant with baby number two. It was another reason why you’d agreed to move out of the city. 

“I could always go back to working for my Pa.” He’d say while you’re getting ready for bed. “Once Howard finishes my new arm.” He’d gotten pretty good at surviving without one though. He could do pretty much everything he could do before, within reason. 

“But would you be happy doing that?” You asked. Jamie was sleeping in the room beside yours, trying something new now that he was sleeping through the night. “Would you be happy to settle for going back to work at the shop?” You knew what his answer would be. He’s been following Steve since they were kids, protecting him, making sure he was safe. “Would you be able to let him go out there alone?” 

“He wouldn’t be alone.” Bucky argued. But he knew what you meant. He stepped behind you at the vanity, squatting down to wrap an arm around your middle, splaying his hand wide over your growing belly. Your first pregnancy you hadn’t started showing until you were four or five months, but this one seemed to sprout right away. “But you would be.” You sigh and lean back against him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

“I want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy.”

The house was white, with powder blue shutters. The porch was large and Bucky recently hung a porch swing with the help of Steve. Together they put up floral wallpaper and carried in boxes, setting up your home while you held the still newborn Jaime. 

Now it was well lived in and not suitable for company most of the time, but it was your home. And you told Bucky you weren’t going to move again if you couldn’t help it. The big surprise was the spare bedroom he’d made into a sewing space for you. Your Mother’s old sewing machine, a place to organize fabrics, buttons, and thread. 

You were finishing dress orders every day, but it was becoming a little too much. 

“Why don’t you ask some of the girls to help you?” Bucky was talking about the girls from the factory, not all of them completely abandoned you when you married him, but you know some had started families of their own. He was holding your son, Jamie playing with a scrap of tulle that was shimmering in the sunlight. “You’re not going to be able to keep this up much longer, mi amor.” He was right, your back aches and your belly was growing every day. Soon you’d have two babies and it just wasn’t going to be possible. Especially if Bucky went back to work. 

So you outsourced. 

Two girls, friends you hadn’t talked to in a while agreed to help. Amara and Rosalyn. ‘Friends’ who had always been very close from what you’d seen. The girls still worked at the factory, but with the dress orders you had it would give them significant income. You were currently making $50 a week selling these dresses, but with the two of them you could do three times the work, $150 a week, with both of them getting 15% was good money. They couldn’t say no. 

With that kind of money coming in, “You wouldn’t have to work if you don’t want to.” Bucky wasn’t having it. “I’m making $105 a week with these.” A kiss to his palm. 

“I want to work again.” He says, “I want to help provide for our family.” 

The new arm was a little heavy, “But that will get modified over time.” Howard claimed. It was metal and cuffed around his upper arm. His shoulder was sore from the initial nerve connection, but stayed always a little stiff because of the weight of the arm. 

The first week or so a lot of dishes were broken, doors pulled off their hinges, and Bucky was refusing to hold Jaime. Something that he didn’t realize Jaime would have such a problem with. The sweet little boy crying and fussing, reaching out for his father but Bucky wouldn’t do any more but rub his back or kiss him before bed, 

“Not until I get this arm figured out.” He didn’t want to hurt him. Which was something you could understand, but your 6 month old baby could not. Jaime seemed to go backwards, waking up in the middle of the night wailing, unable to sleep. Crying uncontrollably no matter what you did. It wasn’t until Bucky stopped breaking things around the house, when he practiced fine motor skills with Howard, did he feel comfortable enough to finally soothe your son. 

Your body woke up on its own. Startled out of sleep by the silence, you’d been expecting Jamie to wake you up like he had been every night before but he was quiet. The house was quiet. Your hand brushes against the empty sheets, still warm from where Bucky’s body had once lay. 

You find him in the nursery, the shining metal arm beneath Jaime’s butt, the small boy lay on his chest. Skin to skin. His right palm splayed on his son’s back, rocking him back to sleep in the rocking chair you definitely thanked Winnie for, multiple times. 

His eyes were closed, his head leaned back against the chair. A pile of drool on his chest from where Jaime’s mouth was open. You sigh, placing a hand on your belly and leaning against the doorway of the bedroom. It was a relief. 

You admired the two of them for a minute, rubbing your belly and feeling the little movements of the baby still inside you and for a moment, not for the first time since finding out you were pregnant, did you wish your Mother was still alive. 

There was a bit of grief in that moment, knowing how much she would have loved having grandchildren. How she would have doted on them. Maybe if this baby was a girl you could name her after her grandmother. 

Steve showed up a few nights after that, fully geared up in a suit you hadn’t seen. One like the suit he wore in the films, but more muted. Something easier to get by in, and a duffel next to him. 

“I can’t leave her Steve.” A whisper in the hallway. The duffel dropped on the floor. 

“I need your help with this pal.” Steve replied, “You know I hate to ask, but I need you.” You step out into the front hall, your husband’s back blocking out most of Steve. 

“What’s wrong?” Your back hurt like hell, breasts heavy with milk for the feeding you knew Jaime would want soon. Feet swollen in early third trimester. Bucky sighed and turned to you with a smile, 

“Nothing sweetheart, go get ready for bed. I’ll be up in a minute.” Your eyes met Steve’s and his face was serious, brow pulled tight, jaw clenched. 

“Steve?” You step further towards them, “Is it serious?” A curt nod. 

“I wouldn’t ask him to come...” You nod, looking back at your husband. His fists clenched at his sides. 

“You should go.” His face falls, 

“But dahlin, I can’t leave you here alone.” 

“I won’t be alone.” You soothe, “I’ll call your Mother in the morning, I’m sure she’ll be happy to stay with me for a few days.” You didn’t want him to go, not really. But Steve was never gone for more than a week, and you could tell how badly Bucky wanted to go. There was something in him that needed to follow Steve, every time Steve left on a mission Bucky would be anxious and couldn’t focus on anything. The worry. 

“He just rushes into things,” Bucky explained once, “He wasn’t particularly good at making plans.” Which was true, but most of that was left to Peggy. 

“You want to help him,” Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, “So help him.” A soft, languid kiss. 

“Are you sure?” He searches your eyes for the truth and you meet his lips again in reassurance.

“I’m sure, just, when you’re done, come home.” He nods, leaning his forehead on yours for a moment before looking at Steve. 

“Let me go see Jaime and I’ll be right out.” 

The first time he came back it was frightening, all the bruises. A gash in his side hastily stitched, but healed within a matter of days. It wasn’t easy seeing him go each time, albeit not often did he go, but the reunion of him coming back was heated and passionate. 

Rushed kisses and his hands curled into your hair. The pleasure in having both arms so he could do everything he wanted to, but couldn’t before. Fingers in your mouth pressing down on your tongue while cool metal digits strummed pleasure under your skirt and stuffed into your panties while Jaime napped. 

Both hips held for leverage while he was buried inside you in the only way you could get comfortable, grinding against your pussy to make you cum quickly before the both of you left the bed to start your day. 

He whispers into your neck, moaning as he held you over the washing machine, his hips slapping against yours in a steady pace, “I told you I would take care of you.” A whimper from your lips, “I’ll always take care of you.” Fingers laced in yours on the table top over the laundry, his hand met your chin, turning your mouth to meet his as you came, moaning into his mouth. 

He was almost his old self once he started going back out on missions. The anger of last year faded into dark moments and restless sleep. Some nights he wasn’t able to sleep at all, but the resentment you felt when you’d been awake with the baby was washed down with the fact that he needed every good night he could. 

After the incident in the old house, the bruise on your arm was the only memory for weeks after, he’d never taken his anger out on you again. He’d gone back to boxing, a hobby in his teen years, an outlet for the anger and trauma he’d experienced out in the field. 

Now that he was working with Howard, Steve, and Peggy, he was training a lot more. The muscles in his arms and legs are more defined, his soft belly tighter. 

And he was happy. Truly happy, for the first time in a long time. 

.

.

.

taglist //  @corneliabarnes @bookish-shristi @saturnki @jennmurawski13 @geeksareunique @albinotigerpython @cake-writes @iheartsebastianstan @000bananaclip000 @shadowbuisness​ @sprinkleofbooty @gifsbysimplysonia @vhsbarnes @loseralert @wendaiii @mcueveryday @alwaysbenhardysgirl @beck-alicious  @thefandomzoneisdangerous

[minsyal]

[Mutual Feelings Pt. 13, Revali x Reader]

Author’s Note: I ain’t sorry. 

Summary: Who knows? We can only go up from here, right?

“No.” You called out to whoever was knocking. The knocking persisted despite you barricading the door with stacks of books and unused chairs that had been left in the hall days prior. Ink dribbled across your desk, large blobs of black liquid obscured your old workpapers that were now crumbled and torn. They didn’t matter anymore.

The old book given to you laid open on the board in front of you. Its pages were tattered and picked at, ripping slightly at every seam and corner. It had to be in here somewhere. Keumi had passed a few weeks ago and you hadn’t bothered to return to the Village as facing Seoi was something you had no desire to do. The least you could do for her was stay away. Afterall, that is what she wanted.

“Open up!” It was a male’s voice, Revali. He had been visiting often after the incident. The majority of the time, he was already on the grounds for Champion-related events and had found your room at the direction of a few gossiping maids. The talk had taken an upward spike in the castle after your return. Very few would stop you, but those that would always asked about your relations to Revali. It wasn’t any of their business. Plus, nothing was official. Nothing was going on.

“No.” You repeated with the same monotone sound.

“Then I’ll break the door down.” The door began shaking, almost comically. The hinges creaked and squeaked as the handle juggled this way and that as the assailant attempted to grant himself entrance. The nob turned and stopped, then turned the other direction. “Excuse me?” He must be speaking to someone outside. His voice became muffled as you assumed he walked away, possibly giving up. You should have known him better than that by now.

You traced the map in front of you, a small line linking your route in the desert to the other locations of materials you gathered for the elixir. Everything had been done exactly to the “t” as per the book’s instructions. How could it have gone so horribly wrong? You had been trying to contact this supposed “medicine man,” but each and every Zora you spoke to couldn’t identify where he resided nor where he was currently. The bowl the elixir had been made in was encased in glass in the corner of your room. The cage you used in the desert was next to it. Maybe you had miscalculated something there? Perhaps the material used to encase the flower was incorrect… or maybe there wasn’t enough water flow.

Shaking your leg at a swift pace, you studied the excess materials. The minerals were all fine, they were typical ones used in medicine. The greenery was fresh when used, now dried and pinned to the wall. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut to ward off the third headache of the day. It wasn’t even lunch yet, just past breakfast in fact.

“I hope you don’t me letting myself in.” Revali stepped through your window, a gust of wind swirling the loose papers around the room.

“Revali!” You rose to your feet, jumping to grasp every paper. He paid no mind, trotting over to the unmade bed where he sat down and crossed one leg over the other. His eyes scanned the room, he had never been in here before. Your desk was a mess, stacked high with new books and papers while older ones were stacked in front of the door. The bed he was sat on was inlaid into the wall, a few trinkets were posted and sat on shelves. He noticed the drawing of him you had done around the time the two of you first met, the extensive studies on the Divine Beasts, and the group photo you had been left out of at the time.

“Good to see you too.” He chuckled, making himself comfortable. “When did you last sleep?”

Too homed in on your work, you brushed him off.

“When did you last eat?” Persisting, he kicked one leg over the other and continued ruffling up your blankets. “When are you going to answer your lover?”

Eyes wide, you shot him a confused look only to get a proud one in return. He gave you a tight-lipped grin, closing his eyes. “We aren’t together.”

“The castle gossip travels fast. According to everyone out there, we are.”

“Well, we aren’t.” You turned back around and focused on a small passage hand-written in the book.

“Whatever you say, but that’s not my opinion on it.” He hummed. “Clear this out from your door while I’m away. I’ll be back.” He motioned to the junk near the door. Kicking some stuff from his path, he pried the door open and left.

While there is currently no evidence of the ability for revival from death, it has been recorded in legend regarding the Goddess Hylia and the Hero. Given this knowledge, there is chance that this phenomena is existent in Hyrule. Mouthing the words as you read, you groaned. There was nothing telling  you what to do. You had been attempting to find a way to bring her back since you got back to the castle after her death. Nothing was turning up.

The attacks on travelers and villages rose as the Calamity’s power grew. Red ash would rise from the ground some nights, the clouds would rush as if in a hurricane, and low growls could be heard echoing from the castle’s depths. The moon would turn blood red on nights like these. Nobody would go out.

Another ceremony was scheduled for tonight, but you had no intent of attending. The King had never required you be present for any of them, only present when he needed updated information on how the scientist’s research was coming. You hadn’t heard from Purah or Robbie in a few weeks. It was hard to when they didn’t live on castle grounds.

The book turned up no trails to follow, no leads to take. Tossing it aside, you scrapped everything on your desk relating to Keumi. It was over. She wasn’t coming back. Throwing your window open, you let the cool air flow in and swirl around the cramped room. Laughter resonated from the upper levels; the stomping of feet signaled they had just begun their celebrations. The rich aromas of mouth-watering dishes were swept through the air, a sweet smell blanketing the area.

With a renewed sense of direction, you grabbed everything you had relating to your updates on the Divine Beasts. Opening the book you kept on Medoh, you began writing. In the margin, you wrote: Resurrection = possibility?

Revali wandered the halls as he attempted to recall his way to your room through the maze of sprawling entryways. He passed kitchen staff carrying platters of steaming-hot foods. Snatching a plate from one of them, he continued on his way. Finally arriving at his destination, he tried the door. To his surprise, it gave way with ease.

“Still buried in work, I see.” He looked more put together than he typically did. A new garb was wrapped around his figure, dawning the blue color of royalty and the crest. His old one was hidden beneath it. It was far gaudier than his original. Gold speckled the trim, thin silver chains were attached to shoulder pieces, and his braids were done differently.

“Here.” The plate clacked against the wood of your desk. “Now, I need to get this off. It’s rather…” he racked his head for the words he wanted, “not me.”

Metal clinks rained down upon the room as his shoulder pieces and the new garb landed in a pile along with your discarded work. A plate clanked against your desk, its smell alluring. Tearing your focus from your papers, you eyed the plate. It was steaming. A perfectly grilled pork steak sat on wild greens with a side of rice from Hateno. The smaller plate held a slice of decadently rich chocolate cake that looked to have been prepared just minutes ago. Caramelized sugar dripped over the sides, gliding down to the chocolate shell below.

“Would you mind undoing these?” His braids whipped around in your face as he turned his back to you. “I would, but I don’t want to.” He continued speaking as you moved to detangle the intricate designs. “You know, the ceremony was as dull as ever. I had searched the crowd for you, but I suppose expecting you to breach these walls was rather idiotic of me.” He tossed his head to the side, eyeing you. “Have you had enough tea lately? Have your teeth gone yellow yet?” When you didn’t respond, he continued on. “I do really think you need to rest more. Your lack of sleep is troublesome.”

“I’m fine.” You finished the last braid, leaving the ribbon strewn into it on the floor.

“You’re not. You need sleep…” he pondered for a moment, taking a deep breath before stating, “Keumi would want that.”

The beating of your heart thrummed in your chest loudly. Your breathing stopped, catching in your throat, suffocating you. A cold sweat broke out upon your brow and at the nape of your neck. Your determination turned to anger as you pushed yourself up to your desk, turning your back on Revali. “Don’t talk about her.”

“It’s what she would have wanted, and you know that.” He approached the back of your chair, the heat radiating from his body only adding to how uncomfortable you had become. Your leg bounced up and down as you attempted to work out the tension that grew within you. It felt as if vines were climbing up your spine.

“Revali, stop.”

“No.” A firm grip held your shoulder as he attempted to tug you around to face him. “Face me and listen. She didn’t die so you could sulk around here all day.”

You had enough. Pushing up from your chair, you disregarded it as it went tumbling to the floor. “Shut up!” More than anything you wanted to slap him. You wanted him to go away and never come back. Why was he here anyway? What did he really care?

“You need to listen to me. Quit acting like a child. That will get you nowhere.”

“She wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t tried something so risky!” You jerked your shoulder away from his grasp and immediately began gathering a few notebooks in your arms.

“You did what you had to!” He said firmly, stepping to block your exit.

“I did something stupid and I ruined a family.” You choked back the tears that were brimming your eyes. “They’ll never get that back, Revali. It’s all my fault.” You had grown considerably quiet, almost whispering.

“It’s not.” His tone had weakened a bit, his stance was softer. “Come here.”

Crashing into his arms was more comforting than you had expected. He rubbed circles into your back as he walked the two of you over to the bed. “We’re going to fix this.”

“How?” Your words were muffled by his thick coat.

___________________________________________________________ 

“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice called as the door creaked open. Revali’s head rose from his spot on the bed.

“Yes?” He called back, keeping his tone hushed. A gentle wing covered your head, stroking your hair down. The motion coaxed soft snores from you and put a loving smile on his face.

“The King requests your presence in the dining hall, sir.”

“Give the King my deepest apologies, but I have to decline.” A moment passed as the guard pondered what to do. He was taken aback by Revali’s answer, expecting him to join him in an instant.

“Of course.”

The door closed as a hushed silence fell upon the room once more. It had grown dark in the castle, the only light in your room came from the candles that threatened to extinguish themselves in the melted wax below. The papers remained scattered across the floor along with the chair that was still overturned. The meal he had brought had grown cold, hardening with each passing hour. But none of that mattered.

What mattered was what lay softly upon his chest, breathing deeply as exhaustion finally gave in. What mattered was the little moments that prospered from your twisted and tangled history. What mattered was the way Revali’s chest swelled when he thought of you and how his heart grew as he finally admit something to himself. It was true.

[alchemine]

👀Party animals for the fandom

I have SO much to choose from for this fandom, but here’s what at least one other person will know as ‘the building explosion fic.’ There’s a lot of it, which makes me worry for how long it would be if I ever actually finished it. 😲

They wedged themselves into the space under the desk, and Danny turned Jo’s face against his shoulder to shield her from the dust and falling debris, then hunched over her, head down, in an attempt to protect himself as well. The rumbling and shaking went on and on, until slowly it stopped with a few faraway booms and a final shower of tiles and insulation from the ceiling. The overhead light panel and Jo’s desk lamp both went dead, followed almost immediately by a bluish-white emergency light coming on over the door. 

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Jo held onto him for a moment longer and then firmly pushed herself away, turning to cough into the crook of her elbow. “What about you?”  

“I’m all right. What the hell was that?” 

“Some sort of explosion,” Jo said. “I saw flames reflected in the window. They’re gone now, but they were there.” 

“Do you think it was…”

Jo shook her head. “I don’t know. We’ve got to get out of here and find out.” 

She crawled out from underneath the desk, and Danny followed her. The office was more in disarray than damaged; there were books scattered everywhere, pictures had fallen from the walls, and the window glass had a long crack running from midpoint to upper right corner, but the walls were still standing and the gaps where the ceiling tiles had fallen looked stable enough. Danny felt cautiously of the door, remembering Scott’s warnings about fires, and then opened it onto a similar scene in the outer office, where his filing cabinet had tipped over and spewed a snowstorm of paper across the floor. 

“It’s so quiet,” Jo said. Her face was sickly pale and strained in the emergency light. 

“Why aren’t we hearing people out in the corridor?” 

Danny looked at his watch. “It’s after eleven, there probably aren’t many people left. Do you want to wait here for someone to come instead? There’ll be emergency crews on their way.” 

“No, I want to go. We can always come back if we need to.” 

“All right. I’ll get my laptop—“

“Leave it,” Jo said. “It’ll only get in the way. I don’t think anyone’s out to steal your research notes at the moment.” 

They went out into the corridor, full of smashed tiles and fallen oil paintings, and along to the lifts, which they found stopped and empty, one at floor level and one below it, with its doors half-open. Inside the lower car, just visible through the gap between the floor and the top of the doors, was a single high-heeled shoe, which made Danny look nervously at Jo.

“It’s not that,” she said before he could ask the question. “Look, even in this light you can see it’s clean in there—no blood or blast marks or anything. Whoever it belongs to lost it, that’s all, trying to get out in a hurry.” 

“Okay,” Danny said, “but we’re not getting in.” 

“Obviously not,” Jo said, and then paused. “Do you smell that?” 

He sniffed the air and caught a distinct whiff of something hot and chemical, like melting plastic or smouldering insulation. “Yeah. I think you’re right and we need to go now. Stairs?”

“Stairs.” She coughed again, not even trying to stifle it this time. “I’m all right. It’s only the dust. Come on.” 

The stairwell was just around the corner from the lifts, and when they got there, they found its door twisted and hanging askew from the upper hinge. Danny nudged it farther open and looked in. 

“Oh shit.” 

“What?” 

“The stairs are gone.” 

“Let me see.” 

Jo pushed in next to him, and they both stared down at a tangled mess of splintered wood and concrete rubble, with a cloud of unidentified particulate matter slowly settling around it. The emergency light just inside the stairwell door was still burning, but with a sputtering flicker that didn’t bode well for its future. The light at the next landing was shattered and useless. A black, jagged hole led from the remains of the landing into an echoing abyss. 

Danny looked over at Jo, who had the lapel of her blazer pulled across her mouth and nose as an impromptu dust mask. “Now what?” 

“Dial 999,” she said, muffled. “They’ll be on their way, if they’re not here already, but we can at least let them know where to look for us.” 

He fumbled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. “No service. Can you?” 

“No service on mine either. Let’s try a landline.” 

They backtracked along the corridor to their office suite, the smell of overheated chemicals getting stronger as they went, and Danny checked the phone on his desk and then the one on Jo’s, finding both of them silent and dead. As he set down the second receiver, they heard a faint wail of sirens outside, almost too distant to be audible. At the same moment, a delicate wisp of smoke curled out through the nearest metal grille, and Jo started to cough again, in ugly, racking paroxysms that came from somewhere deep in her chest. 

“You still okay?” 

“Yes,” Jo said between coughs. Her eyes were streaming with involuntary tears, and Danny could feel his own lungs starting to burn with whatever toxic mixture of substances was being drawn through the building’s passive ventilation system. “But not for much longer. It’s worse here. We’ve got to go back to the stairs to wait.” 

The corridor was hazy, but not smoky yet, and they were able to return to the smashed stairwell door easily enough. Danny looked at it; looked at Jo, whose breathing was still harsh and irregular from her last coughing spasm; and pushed his way inside. 

“Christ, Danny, what are you doing?” Jo grabbed his upper arm with an iron grip. “It’s not even a little bit safe in there.” 

“I just want to look. I’ll be careful.” 

He advanced cautiously onto the landing, testing his weight against its strength with every step, as Jo watched him from the open doorway. The vertical column of the stairwell rose above his head, black as a chimney, and he thought about how many times he’d run up and down it during the day, when the building was bustling and humming and alive with busy people, all worrying over their next meeting or the project they’d just been handed. Now it felt like a graveyard, which made him wonder, with a shudder, if there were any bodies lying limp and broken on the floors above or below. Surely there weren’t, though. He and Jo had stayed late, and even they had been about to call it a night and head home.  

“That’s enough, Danny.” Jo was trying for the voice of command she used when she wanted instant compliance from him, but in the dark it just sounded shaky and scared. “Come back before you fall and break your neck.” 

“I’m all right.” He frowned at the wreck of the stairs heading up to the next level, and then inched forward and inspected the hole. “Jo, the steps underneath us? The ones that lead down from four to three? I think they’re still there.” 

“So? Even if they are, there’s no way to reach them.” 

“There might be. Let me see your phone; it’s got a brighter light than mine has.” 

He reached back without looking, and Jo pressed her iPhone into his hand, her fingers icy cold against his. “Thanks.” 

“Can you see anything?” 

Danny strained his eyes, staring down into the depths of the hole. “Yeah. The first two or three steps are blocked, but the ones below those look fine. Can you find something I can toss in to check?” 

Jo ventured a bit farther onto the landing and dug around in the rubble, then handed him a chunk of wood that looked as if it had once been part of a handrail. He dropped it into the hole, and they both listened as it clattered its way down the next flight of stairs. 

“Seems all right.” He looked at Jo, who was white-faced, but determined, then looked back into the hole and swallowed hard. “Okay, we can do this. I’ll go first and then you come down after. It’s not that far.” 

“How do you know the stairs are still strong enough to support us? We both weigh more than a piece of scrap wood.” 

“They’ll have to be,” Danny said. “My chest’s starting to hurt and so is my head. I don’t know what’s burning, but it can’t be good for us. Here–” He gave her phone back to her. “Give me some light so I can see where I’m going.” 

He held onto the rim of the hole, digging his fingers into soft plaster and insulation and wires, and slowly lowered himself until he could drop to the first undamaged step. It was farther than he’d thought, looking at it from up high, and he lost his balance as he landed and fell hard on one knee, with a crunch that felt like bare bone on concrete and sent a red-hot flare of pain all the way up to his hip. He didn’t want to yell and upset Jo, but he couldn’t stop a groan that he hoped she wouldn’t hear from escaping through his clenched teeth. 

“It’s all right,” he called up when he thought he could keep his voice even. “Hang on the way I did and lower yourself down as far as you can, and I’ll help with the last part.” 

“I don’t like heights,” Jo said faintly from above. She edged just close enough to the hole for him to see the top half of her face, with dark, liquid eyes and a smudge of something black across her forehead. “I get dizzy.” 

Danny thought back to a flight he’d taken with her to Canada, when she’d refused to let him open the window shade as they were passing over Greenland. “Okay, I get that, Jo, but I don’t think you’ve got a choice. The air’s lots better down here, for one thing. And I can’t come back up again, so you’ve got to join me unless you want to leave me on my own. You don’t want to do that, do you?”

“Of course not, but if I fall–”

“I’d throw myself off the top of the building before I’d let you fall.” Somewhere high over their heads, there was a creak and then an echoing crash, as if some precariously attached bit of masonry had just let go. His knee stopped stinging and started to throb as if it was thinking about swelling up. “Please come down. I swear I’ll catch you.” 

“All right.” 

He heard rustling sounds, and then Jo sat down and wriggled forward until her legs were dangling through the hole. She turned herself around, gripped its rim in the same place where he’d held on, and stopped for a moment, head bowed. 

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I thought I needed to cough again. Are you ready?” 

“Ready,” Danny said, and she slid over the edge. Her skirt caught on it and pulled all the way up to the tops of her thighs, which under other circumstances might have embarrassed him, but he was so focused on the task at hand he barely noticed. Once she’d begun, she came slithering down fast, and he caught her around the middle and lowered her to the step beside him. 

“See? Easy peasy.”

[ravenforce]

Missing Link Pt. 3: Complicated

Summary: This chapter is a look at your relationship with the Mikaelsons especially Rebekah.

Pairing/s: Rebekah Mikaelson x Reader, Salvatore Brothers x Reader, Mikaelsons x Reader

Word Count: 2955

Warning/s: Explicit content.

A/N: Ok lovely people, it’s my first time writing smut please be gentle. I write angst, smut I’m not really good at it probably. All grammatical mistakes are mine, sorry. Let me know what you think. xx

If you haven’t read the previous parts they’re here: Part 1 | Part 2

“Katherine knew?” Damon asked, clearly frustrated.

“I knew too, obviously,” Rebekah said while leaning in against Stefan seductively, without regards for Lexi, Stefan’s girlfriend, being on the same table. Stefan groaned.

“And you didn’t tell me,” Stefan said through his gritted teeth. Rebekah just grinned at his display of anger.

And Rebekah blatantly flirting with him makes your blood boil. She is naturally flirty though. She knows she’s beautiful and she’s not afraid to use it on her advantage. You’ve watched her through millennia, sat across the room while she dances with helpless souls before she feeds on them. You’ve watched her care for some of them from time to time but watching her this way with your brother makes you regret coming here with them.

“Well,” Rebekah spoke merrily.

“Countless nights hunting together, numerous days sleeping on the same bed,” Stefan said until he’s interrupted of your glass shattering in your own hands. All eyes turned to you, Klaus smirking from his wine glass.

“I’m going home,” you said before you abruptly stood from the table, ignoring the blood in your hand.

Stefan tried to reach out, Klaus warned him not to do it. When you felt your brother’s hand on your wrist, you turned around and held him by the throat and lifted him up a few inches off the ground.

“Unhand me,” you said with a deathly calm voice and deadly glare. Damon tried to rip you away from Stefan but you’re much stronger than both of them combined. You’re made and trained by an original vampire after all.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let your brother down (Y/N),” you heard Elijah said through the haze of your anger. You dropped Stefan like he weighs nothing. Klaus stood from the table and left a few notes before he looks at you.

“Come on little one, let’s go home,” Klaus said before every Mikaelson followed you out of Mystic Grill.

When you got out of the pub, the fresh summer air kissing your face you felt like you’re breathing again. Klaus has his arm slung around your shoulder as you allow him to steer you to the direction of their estate.

“I haven’t seen you this jealous since London 1990,” Klaus teased you and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Not jealous,” you whispered.

“And we’re not immortals, dear sister,” Kol who caught up with you suddenly said. You glared at him while Klaus laughed harder.

****

When you arrived at the Mikaelson estate, you playfully shoved Kol and raced Klaus to the bar at the living room. You were pouring yourself your fourth glass of scotch when they arrived at the living room. When Rebekah walked around Klaus to stand behind you, you nearly knocked Kol as you super speed away from her.

“I’m going to bed,” you said without looking back. Rebekah frowned.

“Tsk, tsk, you wound her sister,” Kol teased.

“What did I do?” She asked Klaus just in time as Elijah sat behind her.

“I think you know exactly what you did,” Elijah said as he pours himself a drink.

When Rebekah eventually went to retire to her bedroom, she expected you to be there. Both of you had an affinity of sleeping in the same room since you were turned. So when she found her room empty, she was more than disappointed.

After a few minutes of deliberation, she walked back out and tiptoed to your room on the other end of the hall. She crept inside, only to find your bed empty too. A moment of panic washed over her, not this again. In the past, when you found out her attachment to Stefan it turned into a huge fight, which prompted you to leave.

“What do you want, Bekah?” You asked. She whipped around and found you sitting on the armchair in the dark with your head hanging on the reverse as you look up to the ceiling. She heaved a sigh of relief.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” She asked.

“What do you care?” You said without a trace of emotion.

Rebekah bristled, sometimes you do take on from Klaus a lot. Understandably, as your maker, you did learn a lot from him; unfortunately it includes behavior too. Rebekah walked towards you, shedding her heels along the way. You didn’t take your eyes off the ceiling until she’s straddling your lap. She wrapped one hand on your jaw to make you look at her, while the other is pressed against your chest. It’s so reminiscent of the time you came home after a year of gallivanting God knows where.

***

“Welcome home sister,” Elijah said after a night of drinking in celebration of your return. They are genuinely happy to have you back, except you think, Rebekah. If one can die from the amount of glaring, you would have been dead the moment you walked inside the house. You expected her to be mad at you though, you left her and for a year at that.

You just sat on your reading chair when the door of your room nearly come off its hinges by the way Rebekah barreled through it. You didn’t take your eyes off the ceiling, you expected her to confront you the moment she gets you alone.  

“Where have you been?” She asked angrily.

“What do you care, Bekah?” You answered calmly.

If you’re sure of anything about her it is this, she’s impatient. She super speeds to you and straddled your lap. She cupped your face roughly to make you look at her.

“It’s been a year, and you still wouldn’t look at me,” she said softly. Now, this looks like the Rebekah you know in private. She’s hyper-aware of how you’re gripping the arm of the chair to prevent yourself from pulling her closer to you.

“I’m tired Bekah. If you have anything to say, please say it and leave,” you said coldly. Looking into your eyes a year after, she can see clearly that sleeping with your brother hurts you tremendously.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N/N),” she whispered against your lips.

You closed your eyes, the truth is you’re not mad anymore. You spent a whole year processing your anger, jealousy, and the realization that you’re in love with a woman who might still be in love with your brother. You spent a whole year bedding as many humans as possible to process the fact that you miss her, that you want her.

“I miss you,” she whispered against your ear before you felt her planting a kiss behind it.

She’s eradicating the invisible line between the two of you as she kisses down along your jaw. You and Rebekah had a very confusing relationship. With Elijah, Klaus, and Kol you’re sure your relationship is familial; they’re your chosen brothers but with Rebekah it’s complicated. You’re sure she doesn’t see you as her sister either if the looks and the way she deliberately touches and kisses you is any indication.

“Rebekah,” you moaned as she nipped against your neck. “We can’t,” you tried to reason, to yourself or to her, you simply don’t now know.

She pulled back a little to look at you. “Why? We’re not blood-related,” she said matter-of-factly before she connects her lips to yours. You moaned against her mouth, she has never kissed you on your lips before; always just at the corners of your mouth, your cheeks, your forehead, your hand, sometimes even on your shoulder.

She smiled the moment she felt your hand on her hips and your mouth moving against her. She kissed you passionately as she grinds her hips against yours. A surge of arousal pooled between your legs and she moved her hips against you.

“(Y/N),” she moaned.

***

She looks at you tonight the same way she looked at you the night your first become physical together. The only difference is, she’s not topping you tonight. When she rolled her hips against you one more time, you immediately put your hands on her ass and carried her to your bed. When you dropped her in your bed, her pupils are blown wide with arousal.

You quickly rid her of her skin-tight jeans and panties. You threw the garments on the floor and dragged her on the edge of the bed. You kneeled in front of her and unceremoniously swiped your tongue against her wet cunt. Her eyes rolled at the back of her head as you attached your lips on her clit and sucked it hard; her hands went to your hair pulling you closer.

“(Y/N),” she screamed without a care for her brothers downstairs.

You alternately flick your tongue back and forth and sucking her clit. She’s squirming and grinding her pussy against your face, begging you for more but you’re determined not to penetrate her until she cums in your mouth first. It didn’t take long before she’s literally screaming your name and you felt a gush of wetness against your mouth. You lapped up her juices to guide her through her climax. Before she can truly come down from it though, you removed your mouth against her and quickly inserted two fingers inside her.

“Look at me,” you commanded as you slowly rubbed your fingers inside her. “Look at me or I’ll stop,” you threatened, and quickly opened her eyes and look at you.

“You take your eyes off me, I’ll stop and you won’t get to cum again. Understood?” you said. Seeing your more dominant side is such a turn on for her. She just nodded. You leaned down and kiss her before you continued to pump your fingers in and out of her. She’s struggling so hard to keep her eyes open.

“Faster,” she moaned out. You obliged, after adding a third finger and she groaned at the stretch.

“Harder,” she pleaded. You obliged, you know she has always loved being fucked rough.

“Harder,” she moaned while impressively holding your gaze. You obliged; had you been human you would have given out by the amount of strength and stamina it requires to fuck her. You can literally hear the headboard hit the wall as you pound on her cunt.

“Please, make me cum,” she pleaded. You smirked at her but obliged nonetheless. A few more deep thrusts, fingers hitting the right spot, accompanied by a few hard sucks on her clit was all she needed to tumble over the edge and to oblivion. You gradually decreased your speed before completely pulling out of her.

Her breathing has yet to come back to normal when you lay down next to her. She turned her head to look at you and giggled.

“I just gave you two mind-blowing orgasms and you have the audacity to laugh at me,” you said. Turning her giggles to a full-blown laugh.

“Sorry, you just fuck me so good when you’re jealous,” she said. You rolled your eyes at her.

“Whatever,” you said before turning on your side. She chuckled as she watches your back. She scooted closer, planted a kiss on your shoulder before she spooned you.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” she whispered when she thought you’ve drifted off to sleep.

“You’re the past, the present, and the future (Y/N/N),” she said before she leaned her cheeks against your back and drifted off to sleep. You smiled at that.

***

When you woke up, Rebekah is still cuddled next to you. You extricate yourself from her vice grip and padded downstairs. When you entered the dining hall, Kol is glaring at you.

“What?” You asked as you walk to the fridge to get a glass of blood.

“I think you and Rebekah should move out,” Kol answered.

“And why would we do that?” You asked calmly as you joined your brothers in the dining table.

“Because it’s aggravating how loud she can be when you two have sex,” Kol grimaced. “And all that banging on the wall, I’m surprised it didn’t give out,” he continued.

Klaus laughed while Elijah still looks impassive.

“We don’t do it that often. Besides, did you hear me complain when you binge fuck those women in the 80s?” you defended. Kol threw a piece of bread in your face. Klaus continued cackling.

Kol turned to Elijah for help. “Don’t look at me, she’s right. When Klaus, and I was away they had to endure you all on their own,” Elijah teased, making Klaus laugh harder.

“What’s so funny?” Rebekah asked as she walks in into the dining hall. She walked directly at you and gave you a sweet kiss.

“Kol is complaining about how loud you were last night,” you said.

“But you were,” Kol defended as Rebekah glared at him.

“Like you weren’t, (Y/N) and I had to escape the house every time you come home with another of your conquest back in the 80s,” Rebekah said sat on your lap. Everyone laughed except Kol, who turned beet red in embarrassment.

***

You looked at Rebekah as she laughs freely. Moments like this make you feel thankful for having chosen this family. To the mystic world, the Mikaelsons is this family of super powerful monsters. They’re known to be cunning and ruthless but to you, they’re so much more than that. Others are quick to judge them for the legends they live up to because they don’t see, they don’t experience them the way you do.

Others don’t know them the way you do. Elijah is who he projects himself to be, cool, collected and responsible. To others, he appears impassive and a little mechanical but he’s not, he cares but he’s always level-headed. Klaus is the cool big brother, he lets you run wild and free but he’s always there to catch you when you fall. He would do anything to ensure your little family is always safe and thriving.

Kol was through and through the obnoxious little brother, you never had. He likes to tease you mercilessly but he has always been there to indulge you on trying popular activities in certain eras, like hanging out in a hole in the wall pubs and watching grunge bands that are way too pedestrian for Elijah, Klaus, and Rebekah. He enjoys pop culture with you, unlike the three who likes all things classic.

Rebekah and you have always been complicated. When Klaus brought you home, everyone has made you feel like family but you both saw each other as friends than sisters. She was an only girl, so when you came around she was ecstatic to have someone she can do girly things with like shopping and going to the spa. She taught you a lot about using your femininity to your advantage, heck she even taught you how to kiss. From that first kiss, you realized you like her more than just a friend but Rebekah can be hard to spell.

She loves you, of that you’re sure but she never expressed any interest in discussing the nature of your relationship and that had to be enough. You never really concern yourself with whoever Rebekah fancies at the moment, by the end of the day she comes home to you anyway. That’s until she met your brother, Stefan. Hence, seeing them interact recently brings out the worst in you.

“Hey,” Rebekah nudge you. “Where were you?” She asked when she realized your mind is elsewhere.

“Sorry, I’m here,” you said before kissing her chin.

“Gross,” Kol said. “Let’s go eat dinner somewhere else,” he said.

Apparently, they decided to just go out while you were daydreaming. You followed everyone out of the house to the town center to find a place to hang out.

***

For the years you’ve been alive, you’ve been to many places. Majority of your life was spent in New Orleans but you’ve joined the Mikaelsons’ on their travels most of the time. You prefer big cities and Mystic falls is the exact opposite of it; its quaint and subdue. The worst part is, it’s so tiny that the probability of bumping into people you know is at least 90 percent. So you weren’t surprised when you saw your brothers along with Elena and Lexi exiting the only decent bar in town.

You can almost feel the electricity in the air as Stefan looks at you. You were crowding the sidewalk but no one dared to tell you off. Your brothers walked towards you, you see the longing in their eyes and you wish you can tell them you want to fix it but you don’t know how. Before anyone can say anything, someone else spoke behind the Salvatores’.

“Well, isn’t this convenient,” drawled the newcomer. A drawl you can recognize anywhere.

When your brothers turned around, Stefan was pale in his face and frowning. Two exes in town surely can’t be fun for him.

“What are you doing here, Katherine?” He asked, scowl growing deeper by the minute.

You spied Lexi’s hand going on his lower back and his posture instantly relaxed. Katherine just rolled your eyes at your brother before walking past him and directly towards you. She stops only when she’s a foot away from you.

“Why to see my favorite Salvatore, of course,” Katherine said punctuating her sentence with a firm hand on the lapel of your black coat.

You were speechless for a moment, it’s been forever since you last saw her.

“Oh how we’ve come full circle,” Klaus whispered behind Rebekah before heartily laughing and bypassing everyone to go inside the grill; Kol and Elijah hot on his heels. Rebekah fists both her hands to keep herself from ripping off Katherine’s hand from you.

Taglist: @violentmommabear42​ @freekryptonitecloud @vampiregirl1797

[avannak]

Better Times

InuKog Week Day 2: Healing/Friendship

★On AO3★

Inuyasha wrinkled his nose.

He found himself doing that often since his return to Japan. The land had changed quite a bit in the last couple centuries, and for the better were anyone to ask him. Granted, he hadn’t been around long enough to witness the uglier side of things—and he knew they existed, they always existed—but ever since this Tokugawa Shogunate came into being there was a whole lot less war and brutality and a bit more order. Sure, the blatant classism was still there… As were demons. Though far, far fewer demons than his memory served him.

A concerning misrememberece if he had any intention of staying.

Despite Japan’s surface change, most things hadn’t where it counted. Forests still buried their roots deep into the ground and no human structures had surpassed the height of trees. The air flowed through his lungs unimpeded by airborne soils. The future he once bore witness too hadn’t yet come.

It was the smells that made Inuyasha uneasy. Not the new ones, but the familiar. Scents were inescapable to a nose such as his and often came with an association—sometimes a full memory. Not always welcome ones.

Most were subtle. An underlying whiff of honeysuckle from a nearby meadow had him back in Kaede’s hut, sore and bandaged, drying blood already pinching his skin in an irritating itch. Heavy pine in the air had him safe and far above the ground; bark digging into his back in the closest thing he knew to a hug since his mother passed. Clay from a potter’s market wares had his heart clenching and his skin cold and his mind hyper to fix on any other thought. The rot from a half-drowned branch had him small, and human, and scared, hiding in a dilapidated hut from a passing demon, hoping the maggots crawling through the spoiled wreckage would cover his own fearful odor.

They hurt, these memories, these sensations. It was a different time for him. He was angrier then, and younger, but learning to be happy.

He wasn’t though. He hadn’t been happy in Japan. He had moments of happiness, to be sure, but the overall experience of his birth country carried a weight he’d never shake. One of overwhelming unfairness, frustration, and isolation. Of trauma and loss and disappointment.

That’s why the cacophony of gentle smells troubled him. They weren’t offensive, per se, and certainly harmless on their own. They were simply draining to Inuyasha. And he couldn’t escape them. He couldn’t prepare himself against them.

Other scents, on the other hand, were...less subtle. Wind and smoke and sweat and fur, all lumped together, all with the welcome shock of a stubbed toe.

The hair on Inuyasha’s neck rose even before the deep, oily voice broke his peace.

“Well, well. I thought I smelled wet dog.”

Inuyasha flicked an ear in the direction of the voice. He opened his mouth to respond and then, against everything he was sure Kouga had come to expect from him, closed it.

He chose, instead, to do something he usually reserved for human nights spent in the right company. Or, in this case, when he might need a little social lubrication.

Reaching into a side pouch, he pulled out a flask and uncorked it. The fiery scent had surely reached Kouga’s sensitive nose by the time Inuyasha took his swig, eyes closed against the cool burn he’d come to associate with one of the few drinks that affected his demonic metabolism.

He didn’t bother recapping the thing. It stayed in his hand, rested against his thigh.

“Still alive, eh?” Inuyasha opted for after what he could only imagine was an annoyingly long pause.

Kouga snorted and Inuyasha could hear him take a step closer.

“So what finally dragged you back, muttface?”

Inuyasha opened his eyes and cast a look over his shoulder. He stopped short for a moment noticing the vastly different state of dress Kouga wore. The fur ensemble had gone. A long, blue hakama replaced Kouga’s signature skirt and wraps, concealing once proudly displayed muscular legs. A brown montsuki crested with wolf insignia draped across his shoulders and ran the length of his back, effectively hiding his tail. If it weren’t for the ears, Kouga could have passed for a human. Perhaps that was the point.

Inuyasha shouldn’t have been surprised: they all had to change with the times. He couldn’t imagine why Kouga hadn’t dropped a comment on his own western styled clothing.

Or his hair.

“Calm down, I’m not staying,” Inuyasha muttered, turning away. He’d had such a nice night too. Relaxing. No demons. No altercations. Just a day more and he’d reach his destination.

He didn’t feel like picking a fight today. He didn’t know if he could fight with the mounting oppressive atmosphere this land molded into him.

Kouga laughed and, to Inuyasha’s immense discomfort and irritation, settled down next to him.

“You aren’t running from someone, are you, mutt? I can’t imagine what else would scare your sorry ass back here.”

The setting sun offset the most conspiratorial gleam to the blue in Kouga’s eyes as he leaned on the arm closest to Inuyasha.

Inuyasha scoffed. “Running? The only dumbass here who runs from anything has been you.”

It was easy—comforting almost—to fall back into insults. Inuyasha had half a mind to ask why Kouga hadn’t run from Japan itself yet, seeing how the demonic presence had diminished by an...unsettling amount. He didn’t, because it risked opening an avenue of conversation he wasn’t prepared for.

Kouga didn’t rise to the bait. He shrugged, kept grinning, and Inuyasha brought the flask to his mouth again, anticipating a long, annoying night.

“If I had a vampire coven out for my blood, I’d run too.”

The drink sprayed from Inuyasha’s mouth. He sputtered and coughed, whipping around to glare at Kouga, who suddenly looked less like a nobleman and more like a snickering child.

“What—no—how’d you hear about that!?”

“Shippo.”

Inuyasha’s lip curled. “That little shit.”

It was bad enough Shippo knew. Why the fox told Kouga of all demons, Inuyasha didn’t know.

Well, he did. He had left. The academy wasn’t enough for the adolescent fox kit and Kouga was (then) one of the few male, if distant, presences he could look up to. Inuyasha knew the wolf and fox were close, but only through long correspondence.

To experience the fruit of that friendship was, frankly, horrifying. He didn’t want to think about what else Kouga knew.

“I’m not writing to him any more,” he announce aloud, sounding mulish to his own flattened ears.

Kouga rolled his eyes. Inuyasha noticed he had changed physically as well. Just in little ways… a longer face, sharper eyes…

“You’re too soft to cut him out of your life,” Kouga said.

Inuyasha responded with silence. It would have been foolish to deny it. He wasn’t so thinned skinned to react to such a statement.

“…Not like you did with that vampire.”

Inuyasha felt his face heat, which made the situation that much worse. “How the fuck—I didn’t tell that asshole that much!”

He was torn between grilling Kouga to find out what Shippo knew, and how much he knew, and how he knew it, and who else he told… and killing Kouga on the spot before hunting down every other loose end.

He could—and should—probably commit both. In that order.

Still chuckling at Inuyasha’s strangled expression, Kouga gleefully explained:

“Shippo has a vested interest in the gossip surrounding your love life, puppy. He actually puts some effort into finding out what’s going on with you. I’d say you’re better known for your disastrous breakups than defeating Naraku at this point.”

“Get fucked,” Inuyasha snarled. And that didn’t explain shit. What sort of creepy information network did the fox manage?

“I’m serious. It’s usually the second thing anyone asks him after ‘how are you?’. It’s ‘what’s Inuyasha done now?’. It’s kind of legend.”

Inuyasha sighed and with it went the initial unpleasantness that came with the shocking turn of the conversation. It couldn’t be helped. It’s not like there was anyone left on this hell of an island whose opinion he gave a damn about.

“Sounds like you guys had a pretty boring couple of centuries if that’s the sort of shit you entertain yourselves with.”

Inuyasha took another swig, hoping to burn out the final flush in his cheeks. He jerked the flask away from a clawed grab not a second too soon.

“Gimme a drink, dogshit.”

Inuyasha swallowed too quickly and had to choke down a cough. "Are you out of your damn mind?” he asked roughly. “Do you know how far I’d have to travel to get more of this? They don’t make this shit here!"

“I’ll pay you. I’m fabulously wealthy these days. By human standards, that is.”

“I don’t want your damn money, I want you to leave me alone!”

“I want to hear the details from you. I know Shippo embellishes—”

“Fuck off! Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“With you back? No.”

"Really? Absolutely nothing better to do--"

"Really!"

"--than try and take the one thing keeping me sane here? Nothing?"

“Honestly, you remind me of better times.”

That stopped Inuyasha short. Once again he found himself opening his mouth only to close it.

For the past couple days since he landed back on Japan’s shores, Inuyasha could not say anything had reminded him of better times. Yet, here sat a childhood rival, looking him dead in the eye, within arm’s reach, telling him that he, a half-breed upstart, reminded the prince of a demon tribe of Better Times.

Yes, Japan had memories that extended far beyond the shikon jewel days for Inuyasha—traumatic, oppressive memories. But the memories involving each other hinged on one crucial sharing point.

And it wasn’t a bad one.

Inuyasha swallowed the first sarcastic quip. Then the second. And, without a single word, he held out the flask to his companion. Inuyasha stared straight ahead, not needing to imagine the look of surprise on Kouga’s face, even as the hard leather slipped from his fingers, and not bothering to fight the smirk tugging his lips as he heard Kouga chug from the container.

A scream echoed across the valley, very quickly accompanied by raucous laughter.

Inuyasha couldn’t remember a time when he had laughed so openly on Japan soil before. He decided to file it away as a new memory.

[arohaspice]

Can’t Take It Back

Kim Myungjun x Reader

Genre: Angst / Fluff Warnings: Swear words, Kissing, Implied love-making Word Count: 1k

Summary: Your love for your best friend MJ has permeated your relationship causing it to fall to pieces in a split second. Facing your friend is too hard leaving him wondering what he did to make you distance yourself. 

a/n: this is pretty terrible and short but it’ll be multiple parts. i’m sorry. it’s my first kpop fic too so pls pls be nice fbdsjkfbgjkadgkj

You fucked up. Like, colossally. It was supposed to stay in your head, not make a hasty exit off your tongue and into the steamy bedroom air. The look on your boyfriends face after moaning Myungjun's name, you knew there was no coming back from it. He was already tripping over himself as he struggled to get his clothes on and make it to the front door. Even as you begged with red-rimmed eyes and tear-soaked cheeks, practically hanging off his arm to anchor him in your apartment, he wouldn't forgive you. Nothing was going to stop your ship from capsizing in the tidal wave you caused. And you didn't blame him for not trusting you. MJ was your best friend, you spent a lot of time with him. Of course he'd assume the two of you were fucking behind his back, but that couldn't have been further to the truth. Myungjun didn't know your true feelings, nor would he ever. Your now ex-boyfriend sputtered off hurtful but well-deserved words before slamming the door on the way out. The shaking apartment felt like the walls were folding in one by one until your knees couldn't fight against the crushing gravity. You slumped to the floor, drowning in your tears, feigning any attempt to find land.

"Have you heard from (Y/N)?" MJ asked Jinwoo, slightly anxious that you hadn't shown up yet. The older man was fidgeting in his seat, tapping his chopsticks on his plate. He sent you several messages, even called but there was no reply. You weren't one to bail or forget about plans and if you were going to be late, you tended to at least text. But there was nothing which left him with a big fat worry hanging over his head.

"No, I tried calling her," Jinjin answered, checking his phone on the off chance he missed a message in the last 3 seconds. Moonbin overhearing the conversation, let them know he hadn't gotten anything either. The other boys checked their phones and no one had received a word from you -- all of them frowned slightly knowing this was very unlike you. Myungjun's stomach was turning despite the facade of ‘I’m fine’ he wore. This was supposed to be a celebration, he wouldn't ruin it. The server brought them more meat and all the boys praised as they piled it onto the grill. MJ was just picking at his plate, mind intently focused on you and all the reasons why you would've ditched them. Maybe you were sick, or perhaps something worse happened. Abruptly, Jinwoo's phone started vibrating wildly against the wooden table which made the group all turn their focus and hush their voices.

"(Y/N)," Jinjin answered quickly, hopeful that you were okay and perhaps on your way to the restaurant. That optimism was crushed though when he heard your small, nasally voice. It sounded like you had been crying.

"Hey, Jinnie, I'm sorry. I'm not gonna be able to make it out there tonight," you replied as confidently as you could. But Jinwoo could hear the sadness. He looked over to MJ who was practically hanging off the edge of his seat, wondering and waiting for some information, his lips encouragingly upturned.

"Are you okay?" Jinjin asked and MJ immediately straightened at the question, his lips forming a neutral line. He was ready to rip the phone from his friend's hand and talk to you himself. Why hadn't you chosen to call him first? He double checked his phone to make sure there was no missed calls and suspicions were confirmed. It was strange you picked Jinwoo over your closest friend but he wasn't jealous -- right? Besides, you were friends with all of them, who cares who you called, as long as you were fine. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just sick. Sorry, have a good dinner." You were about to hang up when Jinjin asked if you wanted to talk to MJ. The speed at which 'no' flew off your tongue shocked both of you. Jinwoo looked to Myungjun and shook his head, making the older man sink in distress. You always wanted to talk to him, why did you suddenly want to evade him?

"Okay, hope you feel better." Jinwoo ended the call and promptly addressed his hyung. "She says she's sick. She definitely sounded sick."

"Sick? Do you think that's why she didn't want to talk to me?" Myungjun worried. "That's probably why. I'll bring her the soup after." His smile slowly returned, still worried but relieved you weren't seriously injured.

The rest of the dinner went by smoothly, MJ doing his best not to worry and to make the other members laugh. They shared stories and food and roaring laughter and when it was all gone, everyone except MJ headed back to the dorms. He placed an order for soup from the restaurant and headed towards your apartment, hopeful his nice gesture would get you to talk to him. 

MJ had been standing at your door for 5 minutes. You could hear him knocking loudly, practically trying to beat it off its hinges. "C'mon, (Y/N), I have soup and medicine for you. Open up, please. The neighbor’s are gonna complain!" Myungjun knew you were inside, he saw your car in its spot. His voice was so loud and at times shrill, you couldn’t stand to listen to it much longer. He was right, the neighbors would complain. You groaned and tossed off the duvet before grumpily sliding off the edge of the bed. MJ could hear the soft pitter patter of your bare feet against the hardwood floor and then the door flew open to reveal a disheveled mess.  "Ah!" He couldn't help but chuckle at your hair which stood out at odd angles but then his eyes settled on your red, tear-stained face and he halted his laughter. His heart hit his stomach. “Are you --”

Deftly, you clutched the soup from his hands and effectively cut his words off. "Thank you, I'm really sick so you should go."

MJ could still feel the iciness in your words as the door locked shut in front of him. You barely even give him a chance to say anything before you stole the soup and whirled the door closed. He stared at the panel for a minute before his senses flooded back to him. “Your welcome,” he muttered to the air around him before turning on a heel. There was a sting in his chest. Of course the two of you had arguments before, no friendship was perfect. But this was different, you were shutting him out. And the worst of it was he didn’t understand why. Recent interactions with you played on a reel in his mind as he mulled over the scenes and tried to spot anything he might’ve done to upset you. But everything was routine as far as he could remember -- he couldn’t recall doing you wrong. 

He sulked the entire way back to the dorm. On his walk back, he sent you a text but it was fruitless because you didn’t answer. When he crossed the threshold of his apartment, he ran into Eunwoo who was quietly reading on the couch. 

“Any luck, hyung?” the princely man asked, his eyes bright. 

MJ shook his head, continuing past him, heading straight for his room.