#I also feel like my cheeks and chin are rounder all of a sudden but I feel like I’m imagining it all 😭😭

[ginger-ly]

Not sure if its like a placebo affect or the fact that you're stuffed full in your recent photos but I swear you are already looking bigger since starting the regain.

What a coincidence! I was thinking this same thing earlier today haha, I took pics because I was trying to convince myself that I was being ridiculous thinking I had grown already but like

LOOK 👀

[mypersonmyg]

cherry blossom | jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg15

wc: 2k (yes it is a drabble shut up)

warnings: swearing

summary: spring is blooming and so are you OR he loves the beanie you knitted for his round ass head

a/n: hello, hi, hey...is this good? idk, but i wrote it because im trying to do that again; this is based on the tebori tapioca couple because i really like them a lot...ALSO i said i would write about beanie boy and here he is :D

tebori tapioca

masterlist

Petals dipped in white are decorated in the jagged pink crawling from the root of thin strengthened stems fluttering like wisps from trees freshly bloomed to kiss at your cheeks, tilted upward toward a sky painted in streaks of voluminous clouds. You lift one hand to trace the expanse of day, finger a brush concentrated on the perfect mural, eyes zeroed to see the work of the blue plained aerial. You grasp a stray petal mid-air, charting the exposure of edges fragile and torn from the efflorescent cherry blossom, its trunk the perfect home for the boy whose head appears anywhere but the moment. 

You bring the petal to trace his cheeks seeking the protrusion of his nose, effectively startling the stupor that held him captive. His eyes dance the length of your arm up to your collar, landing on your own gaze in wonder, always amazed by  feelings that engulf him like licking flames. He tilts his head until the warmth of his cheek rests in the palm of your hand, cradling perfection and its questioning peep. 

“Sorry,” You murmur, thumb soothing circles into pliable skin, eyes doubled in apology despite the fondness stretching the muscles of his face, tugging at the edges of his lids. 

“Don’t be,” He hushes plucking the petal, blowing it into the subtle breeze that kicks at the skin of your ankles, traveling the length of your leg, ignorant to the tingle that already resides from the steady grip of a tattooed hand tracing the skin exposed from the ride up of your hoodie. “We came here to be together and I’m zoning out.”

You crook your arm into the grass, still damp from the press of morning dew, petals sticking to your palm as you push forward, Jeongguk cautiously tightening at your waist. The hand that still rests against his cheek sneakily climbs to tendrils peeking from beneath the beanie dressing his head, black knitted and all consuming, wrapping the strands of curls between nimble fingers and urging him to press his lips to your own. 

“I don’t mind, I’d rather sit with you in complete silence than listen to Jimin complain about whatever it is he was complaining about today.” You speak after the first heady press, foreheads gathered in collective rest, lashes just missing with each flutter. You can barely recall the words tumbling forward, but you can count on the attentive nature of your chosen lover to keep you on track, his eyes never missing the beat of your quivering lips. 

“Hmm, but i wanna give you all of my attention.” He pulls you so you’re falling, forcing you onto his lap of denim, your arms finding rest around his broad shoulders. He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, bringing light to the fabric engulfing his head of curls. 

It’s a recent niche, the adornment of the extra layer, a gift from you meant to reside on the side of winter wardrobe. It dresses him well, mirror selfies and dates spent walking the string lit streets of your cozy strip not without the attention of head-on-a-swivel passersby. You don’t mind the look or the attention that you believe present without the added statement, but you often miss the ease of a hand through thick curls and the added volume on humid occasions. 

“Now who’s zoning?” Jeongguk teases, nudging the underside of your chin, fingers retreating to avoid your gentle nip. 

“I was just thinking about you,” Your words are spoken with lips folding inward to rest between the set of your teeth, hands tugging at the top of his hat, almost pulling it free before he swats at your offending limb tugging it back into place. 

“Oh yeah?” You arch into him when a sudden gust of wind wraps around your bodies, biting at your arms left exposed by your insistence of warmth from the saturation of rays that swallow you whole, only missing direct contact by Jeongguk’s insistence that you seek refuge in the crowding branches of the beautiful earthy growth of the ascending blossom. 

“Yeah, you and your beanie. Why won’t you let me see your cute ass head, you nerd?” 

“Excuse me? I like the beanie, it was a gift you know.” 

He’s proud of his counter, head resting against the trunk of the tree before he’s suddenly guiding you from his lap to join in the jump to his feet. You’re like jello, too long spent lounging in the thick of your bubbled comfort, nearly knocking into him out of the habit of proximity and lack of control over your physical being. 

“Not only was it a gift,” He continues, clasping your hands, swinging it between you as you once more find the path riddled with abandoned flowers and the remnants of blades from grass freshly mowed, the smell still lingering with each foot forward. He brings your connected palms to press to his lips, holding them in place for a momentary hum before your nerves are tingling under the sensation and you're trying your hardest to pull away amidst  squealish giggling. “It was handmade.” 

You stutter, feet catching at the tip, threatening to eat concrete were it not for the quick reflexes and unbridled strength of Jeongguk’s arms. He drags you from the center of the path, the resounding tinkering of a child’s bike bell screaming to make way for the train of tasseled training wheels that are suddenly on your trail. It gives you time to recompose, Jeongguk far too busy waving in kind at each passing darling regarding him with various poked tongues and toothy grins. 

“Babe, you good?” He finally returns his attention, the rough pad of his thumb coming to swipe at the hairs that fall from the folded lip of the beanie, tickling at the plains of his forehead that hold just enough sheen from the day's heat to allow the dense fibers to stick to his skin. You fight the temptation to replace his hand with your own, always happy to feel him beneath you, feening for the closeness of closed doors and your head tucked beneath his chin, fingers tracing the ever defining muscles that tease through his t-shirt. 

“I’m fine...I just didn’t realize you noticed.” You shield yourself in the thick of his hoodie, tugging the sleeve to hide your eyes from his prying gaze and infectious grin. You question your own sanity when the remembrance of his attentive nature and the dreamy sigh he’d emitted upon the first snug of the thick fabric to his skull, only compliments spewing thereafter. 

“That I noticed...?” You’re dim witted to the point of ignorance, though his bait works as your face slowly unsticks from the dark material eating his chest, replacing your face with the wrap of your knuckles and the avoidance of eye contact in favor of tracking a peculiar worm inching toward fresh dirt. 

“Koo…” You whine, the nickname and high pitched yearning a new habit Jeongguk has taken in kind. His adoration for you only grows more with each day, your habits taking hold of him like the magnet that you are, an attraction unyielding and all consuming. Some would say that it’s a sickness, but the rapid pump of his love organ and the coos that ooz from him with the precision of a clock at your every utterance feels wholesome.

You’re home, a refuge after long days of piping tea and pounds of tapioca, waist deep in the give and take of the service industry. The only being that makes him feel like giving his all is no effort wasted, always looking for more ways to please even with your assurance that just  halfway makes your heart soar into a galaxy of his own making. 

So he grips you tight and reels you in, inhaling the scent of the light shampoo that laces your scalp and pretends that your whines are only an amusement, a reason for the further push of his pestering. His hands trace the peak of your shoulder blades, easing them of the tension from your bout of shyness. 

“Love, why wouldn’t I notice? Why do you think I love to wear it so much?” 

“Because you’re perfect,” You melt, shuffling on the balls of your feet, hands shoved into his pockets to hold steady in a world constantly rotating around you, dressed in whites and pinks, the songs of birds humming in the trees that arch above you. “But seriously, how did you know? I didn’t say anything because I don’t think it’s very good and I almost didn’t even give it to you because—”

“It’s perfect.” He cuts your words with his own followed by a kiss, much longer than the one previous, your face heating under the awareness that you’re no longer shielded by bud kissed branches in your own corner of the world. The same corner that started it all just months prior. 

Your palms rest against his chest, a gentle pat urging him to part from you despite your own inward cries of the opposite. He obliges, a smile of coyness splayed along his cheeks, pushing at the scar that kisses the apples of his skin. 

“What?” 

“I did notice an attempt at the stitching of initials under the lip...still need some practice I see—”

“Love, that’s so mean!” Your pats previously gentle now offer as much force as  you can muster, easily sending him staggering on his feet, too consumed by his own childish laughter at your rather rugged stitchwork, a poor attempt at further customization. “Ugh, I didn’t think you would notice.” 

He pulls the beanie from his head, hair falling in a mess of dark curl that traces the frame of his cheeks, somehow rounder today than the chiseled jaw that you often find ingrained in your memory. You ache to take him between your palms, a smattering of kisses stored for later use when you aren’t teetering the precipice of embarrassment. A feeling of routine self indulgence that is altogether useless under the watchful eyes of the dream before you.

He delicately dips his finger into the folded hem of the hat, lengthening the elastic trim that suctions around him to keep it secure around his head. He traces the thread that just barely makes out the letters initialling his name, imagining the formation of your lips as you repeat the two syllables with the puncture and withdraw of every stitch. 

It’s clear as the blue dyed sky, the vivid poke of your lips when you realize the curve of the ‘J’ is more of a divot than a definition but push on to the ‘K’. You only add the extra inches when your mind begins to overthink when in truth he’ll love anything from your hands, from your mind and the blood pumping through your veins. 

It wasn’t the accidental revelation of the stitching when he pulled it from the first wash that clued him in. The fabric unfurled from its position of origin, the letters staring back, accented with the perfect attempt at a heart stitched in white. 

No, he finds solace in the patch of thread missing from the edge of the shape meant to mimic the geometry of the organ itself.

It speaks true to the way he feels when he’s not with you, like his heart couldn’t possibly be whole when he’s not taking in the breathlessness of your laugh or the way you pout his name without warning. 

It was the tremor in your hands as you delivered the gift wrapped in faux gold, edges of the paper curled from the lack of a package and a mind too jumbled to think of a bag. Your delivery paired with the fumble of words hushed in rushed breath was clue enough of your attempt at discretion.

It’s in these moments, hat in hand and your eyes scrutinizing the thing when you’d told him how handsome it made him look just weeks prior. He gently pinches the scrunch of your nose, forcing your eyes to his own, hat pulled back over his head. 

He doesn’t miss the quirk of your lips, the hat no longer an object of disdain when it's a part of him. The day you met was the day that you made your place within him and it's in moments like these that he feels whole. 

“I can’t believe you thought for a second that I wouldn’t.”

[hisunshiine]

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 - Part 3

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 ထ written by @sunkissedwriter / m. a. tw.

↳ au based off of The King: Eternal Monarch | Cross posted to her AO3

The Republic of Korea

“I need your name.” You snapped, clacking away at the report on the computer.

Hoseok struggled to sit comfortably on the chair, his wrists still bound behind his back, “And as I said before, only those trusted by the King are allowed to know and say his name.”

Your eyes didn’t leave the screen, “Does the King always refer to himself in third person, or is he doing it just to annoy me?” You lifted the wallet, “Can you tell me why you have a wallet full of counterfeit bills? Do you want to add a forgery charge to the list?”

“They’re not forged, they are true bills issued by the Royal Treasury of the Kingdom of Corea.” Hoseok settled back against the chair, “Is it really necessary to keep me in handcuffs?”

You tossed the wallet back onto your desk, “I don’t think you realize that those handcuffs are there for your safety, not mine.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened, the answer lost on his tongue as a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Noona! Hey, why is there a horse tied up outside of the station?” A young man hopped onto the desk, swinging his legs as he pulled out a red ginseng packet from his pocket.

“Jeongguk? Oh Jeonggukah, loyal as ever. I knew you would follow me and find me, please tell her, explain everything.” Hoseok smirked at you, comforted by the sight of his loyal guard, no matter how oddly dressed he was.

Wait…

The young man half laughed, glancing nervously to you, “Noona...why is he acting like he knows me?”

“Ignore him, Kookie. He is clearly delusional. He thinks he is a king of the Kingdom of Corea, and rode his horse through plaza traffic.” You held your hand out expectantly, “He also won’t tell me his name and apparently has no ID.”

Kookie fished out another red ginseng packet, plopping it down on your hand, “Oohh! So that’s your horse out there?!”

“Kookie!”

“What?! He owns a horse! How cool is that?” The wide eyed man turned back to Hoseok, “What’s his name? Are you really a King? How do you know me?”

Hoseok chuckled at the questions, the personality of this ‘Kookie’ the complete opposite of the stoic charm of his Jeongguk, “I own many horses, but that one out there is my personal horse. I raised him since he was a foal, his name is Mang and he is my most trusted friend. Next to the person you look like of course...it makes sense that the parallel world would have someone like him in it.”

“Whoa, parallel worlds? And there is someone who looks like me in it?” His round eyes grew even rounder at the thought.

“Mmhmm, his name is Jeongguk. He is the captain of my royal guard. And yours?”

“Jeon Jungkook, but everyone calls me Kookie. I am a police assistant for the Government of Korea. But only for a few more months! My conscription time is almost over!” Jungkook pounded a fist in the air, laughing along with Hoseok.

“Ya, both of you stop talking. I have been trying all evening to get you to tell me your name. And instead I get the name of your ‘guard’ and your horse. Unbelievable.” You crossed your arms sitting back against the chair, “And you, traitor. Become friends with this psycho?”

“Psycho?” Hoseok tsked, “Well that’s a bit harsh. I knew you were feisty but now you’re cold hearted.”

Jungkook leaned closer, whispering, “You should hear what she says when she’s mad. She’s made thugs cry before.”

“Jungkook! Out!” You stood, smacking the younger man with a folder.

“Noona! Come on.” Jungkook winced slightly, jumping away from assault, “I’m not doing anything!”

“Do not make me say it again. Out!” You huffed as you sat down heavily, returning your attention to the well dressed man in front of you. “Fine. If you won’t give me your name, I will give you one.” Your fingers hesitated on the keyboard, glancing at him again, a brilliant smile on his face once more. “Jung Gi Dae.”

His eyebrows rose, “Gi Dae? Gi Dae as in ‘Hope’?”

“Yes as in, ‘I hope you aren’t going to continue to be a pain in my ass’,” you looked smugly at him, answering your phone as it rang. “Lieutenant (YLN) here, what do you have for me?”

Hoseok smirked as your brow furrowed, knowing full well the fingerprints you had taken from him didn’t reveal anything. “I don’t exist here, do I?”

“Clearly you do exist as you’re sitting here in front of me...but no your fingerprints brought back nothing.” You leaned forward, “But there are other ways to find out who you are.”

Hoseok leaned forward as well, grinning at the slight hesitation in your eyes, “Lieutenant, you have failed to identify me from fingerprints, what makes you think that other methods will be successful?” He paused, reading the tension emitting from you, “Go on Lieutenant, ask me the question.”

Your expression hardened, eyes narrowing a bit as you rested your chin on your palm, “Who are you?”

“I am the King of the Kingdom of Corea. A world that is parallel to this one.” Hoseok explained.

“You said you had been looking for me for twenty five years...why? Why do you know who I am?” Your voice lowered to a whisper, eyes fully locked on him.

“I have your police badge, I found it when I was a child. It has been with me ever since...I was never able to find you in my world, just as I don’t exist in yours...it must mean that fate has brought us together, Lieutenant.” Hoseok softened his tone, “You must believe me...the proof is sitting right in front of you. I am not of this world.”

You looked down at your desk, silent as you took in the information he had given you. A soft sigh left you, “Okay...I believe you.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened, “You believe me?” His lips spread into a smile, “You believe me! That’s-”

His words were cut off by the swab you stuffed in his mouth, swiping against his cheek and putting it back into the container. You couldn’t help but laugh at his bewildered expression, “Thank you for your cooperation, Your Majesty.” You set the container aside, noticing his gaze again, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks flush a bit, “As if you love me.”

This time Hoseok’s cheeks flushed, flustered for the first time in his life, “How else am I supposed to look at you?”

“You don’t.”

The cool night air was a welcomed friend to Hoseok as you led him out of the station, the disgruntled King massaging his wrists from the abuse of the handcuffs. A small crowd of people surrounded Mang, camera flashing and words of praise made the white horse preen and pose. Hoseok rolled his eyes, knowing full well his steed had learned the behavior from Seokjin.

“Here,” you placed his things in his hands, “I am being a generous police officer and letting you go, Jung Hope.”

“You would have had to let me go anyway after 48 hours,” he tucked his wallet away, clasping his hands behind his back, “I know that law must be the same in both worlds.”

“I’m still letting you out early,” you retorted, immediately shaking your head, “Whatever, do you have a way for me to contact you for the results of the DNA test.”

Hoseok sifted through his pocket, pulling out the sticky notes Jungkook had handed him when you had stepped out of the station. “Here. That doe eyed assistant said this hotel is near your place, that is where I will be staying.”

“And how do you plan on paying for this with your counterfeit money?” You handed him back the sticky note, “Only Kings or Idols can afford to stay there.”

Hoseok smiled, “Do you know of any jewelers who buy diamonds?”

“Diamonds...you have diamonds?”

He plucked off one of the buttons off of his jacket, “This is pure diamond, the world can’t be that different where diamonds don’t sell here right?”

You took the button, weighing it in your hand, “If this is a diamond, then I am Princess Diana.” You placed it in his palm, noticing how large his hand was compared to yours, “I don’t know why I am even helping you but come on. This way.”

Hoseok followed you, easily keeping up with your quick pace, “Because deep down you do believe me.”

You shook your head, “I’m a cop, I only believe what I can see.”

“Well you can see me, can’t you?” Hoseok’s hand wrapped around your elbow, pulling you to a stop, “Lieutenant, there are some things we don’t see and we believe...why is it so hard for you to just trust what I say.”

The sincerity in his eyes was so intense….you wanted to believe him...but you had also only just met him, “That store, that’s where you can sell your diamond.”

Hoseok let go of you, replacing his bright smile as he held the door open. He strode in with confidence, placing the button into the gloved palm of the store owner. The owner’s eyes grew comically wide, and with it, grew Hoseok’s smugness as he glanced at you.

“In all my years, I have never seen a diamond so perfect...the cut, the clarity, this is an exquisite jewel...where did you get one?” The owner stumbled over his words, placing the button down carefully on a cloth.

“I will have to ask the Head Court Lord, he has an eye for shiny things,” Hoseok answered, plucking off another button, “This one is the same as that one...in fact all of these buttons are pure diamond.”

This time both your eyes and the owners eyes grew wide, “Well...there’s not warranty with a diamond like this...I would gladly pay for it I just need assurance that it is not stolen.”

Hoseok opened his mouth to answer, your sudden cough and clearing of your throat stopped him. He looked down at you, confused by your actions until he saw you hold out your badge, coughing again and quickly looking away.

“Ah. You’re a cop. Well I will say that is assurance enough.” The owner took both diamonds, bowing deeply, “I will be right back with your payment!”

Hoseok chuckled, “You didn’t tell him your identity, ‘Princess Diana’.”

You ignored him, eyes wide as you tried to comprehend the fact that his jacket was worth more than your salary...for years. The owner returned with an envelope, pulling you from your thoughts, you offered him a half smile, mindlessly walking out of the shop.

“Lieutenant, you’re so silent now.” Hoseok stated, keeping his eyes trained forward on the path along the river, fighting every instinct he had to look over to you.

You cleared your throat, “You have a coat...with diamond buttons.”

“Mm, this is just the one I brought with me. Like I said, Head Court Lord Seokjin has an eye for jewels and fashion...and a sense for true shamans apparently,” Hoseok muttered the last few words, realizing that the love talismans had actually succeeded in bringing him the love of his life.

The two of you continued on the walk along the river, the air becoming more frigid with each step, driving you both closer together without noticing. It was a comfortable silence, one foot in front of the other, He could practically hear the cogs in your brain turning in between each step. Hoseok stole a glance, your hands were stuffed in your coat pockets, cheeks kissed pink from the cold, bottom lip pulled in between in your teeth, brow furrowed with concentration. You shivered slightly and Hoseok’s heart clenched with a pang, wanting nothing more than to take you into his arms and shield you from the cold.

The chime of your phone startled both of you, the screen flashing the name of your partner; Kim Namjoon.

“Working late, Namjoonah?” You answered quickly, noticing how little space there was between yourself and the strange man.

Hoseok tilted his head at the way you spoke with ‘Namjoon’, the familiarity of your tone.

Could she already belong to someone?

Your head suddenly snapped up, “Okay I’ll meet you there, I’m not far from the station. Just meet me out front.”

“You’re leaving?”

You stuffed your phone in your pocket, rewrapping your scarf, “The hotel is just down a few more blocks, you can’t miss it.”

“Please don’t leave…” the words left Hoseok before he could stop him, the plea weighing heavy in the air, “It took me 25 years to meet you...I can’t lose you now.”

His tone broke your heart, “Jung Hope, you don’t know me as well as you think you have known me. Anyone who knows me, knows that I put my job in front of anyone or anything else.”

Hoseok watched you as you sped away, full aware that you were taking his heart with you.

“Namjoonah!” You jogged towards his lean frame, your long time partner was leaning against one of the storage units typing furiously at his phone.

“Took you long enough,” he gave you a dimpled smile, tilting his head towards the only lit storage unit, “Victim’s wife agreed to meet with us and let us look around the shop.”

You slipped your badge around your neck, “Great. Let’s go.”

“Hold on,” Namjoon grabbed onto your coat, pulling you back, “What’s this I hear about you...pulling over a horse ?”

You chuckled, patting his hand, “It’s been a long night, Joonah, the man I arrested thinks he’s a King.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows raised but he didn’t continue with his questions, simply following you to the unit.

It was small, filled to the brim with hardware products, and a small woman sitting in the middle of it all, her head in her hands.

“Ma’am?” She raised her head, “I am Lieutenant (YLN) from the Seoul National Police Agency, this is Detective Kim, my partner. You called us in regards to your husband?”

She nodded, her eyes filled with tears, “Yes, yes I did.”

“Ma’am, why did you wait three weeks to report your husband missing?” Namjoon asked, ever the blunt cop.

She shook her head, laughing through her tears, “I thought he had just run off to gamble again. It’s what he always does when we fight, but he usually comes back….when he didn’t answer his phone at all or open up the store that's when I thought…”

“That something more serious had happened?” A nod, “Do you know of anyone who would have wanted your husband dead?” You pried, watching as Namjoon started to move around the store.

“It’s easier to list the people who wanted him alive.” She wiped at her tears, “That man borrowed money from so many people, always walking around with two different phones, meeting with different men every day saying that it was for a “better future”. I guess it finally caught up to him.”

Namjoon lifted a blue tarp, taking out his phone and snapping a picture, “Have you been here since your husband went missing?”

“No, I never wanted anything to do with,” she waved her hands in the air, gesturing at everything, “Any of this. I only came because the neighbor said it looked like someone broke in. This is how I found it before calling you.”

Namjoon nodded, “Are there any CCTV’s around here?”

She furrowed her brow, “Maybe? I’m not too sure. You would have to ask the landlord.”

“Is there anything else you want to tell us? Any other information at all?” Namjoon came over next to you, leveling the distraught woman with a firm gaze.

She looked around, rummaging through a drawer before pulling out a flip phone and handing it to you, “That was the other phone he always walked around with. I thought it was weird because it was a 3G phone. But I never pressed him on it.”

You pulled a bag from your pocket, allowing her to slip the phone inside of it, “Thank you, is the number you contacted Detective Kim with a good number to reach you?”

She nodded, looking down at her clasped hands, “If you find the bastard that killed my husband...thank him for me. My life is now ruined because of him.”

The two of you left the grieving woman, walking back to your car.

“Do you think she did it?” Namjoon asked, folding himself into the passenger seat.

You tossed the evidence back in the back of your car, plopping down next to him, “No. You saw the back of his head, it was extreme blunt force trauma. Even with all her hatred for him, I don’t think she could have done it.

Namjoon pulled out his phone, showing you a picture, “Think something like this did it?”

The pointed end of the crow bar held the similar shape of the wound the victim had, prompting you to raise a brow, “Yeah….that could probably do it...someone really wanted this man dead.”

Namjoon chuckled, “You were right, this is indeed a homicide investigation. Why are you so good at your job, Lieutenant?”

“Why aren���t you good at your job, Detective,” you teased, “Should we get some chicken?”

“Kookie and Tae already ordered some, they’re at your place waiting for us.” He settled back into the seat, “How can you eat after a murder investigation?”

“I haven’t eaten all day, I was on my way to grab lunch when I stopped that rider.” You maneuvered out of the small side streets, zipping down the main highway towards your house.

“Oh yeah, what was that all about?”

“It was strange, Joonie, he refused to tell me his name because he said no one was allowed to speak the ‘King’s’ name. He had a wallet full of strange counterfeit bills, two of them had his face on it...and he kept saying he had been looking for me for years.”o Namjoon, “It was weird.” You glanced over to your partner, noticing the baffled expression on his face, “What?”

“Well he found you.” Namjoon answered, gesturing to the side.

You slammed on the brakes at the sight of the white horse grazing in a makeshift stable. The owner of the horse stood next to it, brushing it while chatting to your dad and Jungkook.

“What the fuck…” you parked the car, quickly pulling your hair up, “Why the fuck is he here?!”

Namjoon’s brow furrowed, “Do I need to step in? Get him out of here?”

“No he’s harmless, but you might want to keep Jungkook away from me.” You stepped out of the vehicle, storming over to where the group laughed at something Hope had said.

Hoseok’s eyes widened at the sight of your fury, immediately taking a step back to put Jungkook in between himself and you. The others around him had taken notice of your arrival, each one bracing for your impact.

“What is this?! Dad? Jungkook?” Your glare fixated on Hoseok, “You?!”

“Noona...Mang needed a place to stay, and he asked if I could help and-” Jungkook started, immediately snapping his jaw shut at your finger rising up in the air.

“Quiet. You. Talk.” You crossed your arms, tapping your foot against the ground.

“Lieutenant, look, I can explain.” Hoseok cleared his throat, taking a step forward, “I called Jungkook and he agreed to help me in exchange for meeting Mang. He then introduced me to your father, who told me about the Taekwondo center he runs, and to Taeyongie who owns that lovely bubble tea shop.” He ended his statement with a smile, hoping it would work to ease your anger.

It didn’t.

“Get this animal out of my property or I swear I will sell it to the next person who asks me for it.” The sincerity of your words made Hoseok bristle.

“Lieutenant, I have done nothing to you!” He took another step towards you, prompting Namjoon to step in.

“You heard her. You really going to challenge two police officers?” Namjoon’s jaw tightened as he threatened him, stepping around you to stand face to face with Hoseok.

“Watch your tone with me, Kim Namjoon , because the kindest thing I can offer you in my world is beheading.” Hoseok squared his shoulders, tightening his grip on the riding crop in his hand.

“Yah, yah, yah, enough. All of you. You can use the yard for as long as you need, it doesn’t bother me one bit as my name is on the title, not my daughter’s. Tae, do you mind seeing a horse from your shop?” Your dad chimed in, clasping a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“You can never have too much horse power on the driveway.” Tae gave Hoseok a wink, “Besides, it would probably help business out.”

Your father turned to you, “See? No harm done.” He leaned closer, “You need to be nice , this man owns a horse . Do you know how well off you have to be own a horse?”

“Why are you being nice to him?” You questioned, huffing, “You know what, forget it.” You stormed off into the house, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. Your father bowed to the group before rushing behind you, calling after you.

Hoseok refocused his attention on Namjoon, smacking the riding crop against his chest to keep him from leaving.

He was met with Namjoon’s glare, “What is your problem?”

“What is your relationship with her?”

Namjoon tried to reach for the crop, “Nonexistent.”

Hoseok smacked Namjoon’s hand with the crop, then tucked it behind his back, “I highly doubt that.”

“What does it even matter to you, you’re just some guy she found on the side of the road.” Namjoon questioned, “A crazy one apparently.”

“Even if I explained it to you, you wouldn’t understand. Fate brought me here to find the love of my life, to find the woman who saved me when I was a child.” Hoseok gestured to the door, “She is the one who I have been looking for, she’s the one who’s badge I was found with when I was a child and almost murdered by my uncle.”

Namjoon scoffed, “Right. You’re what, 30? She would have been a child too, there is no way she could have saved you.”

“And yet here I am. A King from a parallel world who crossed the universe...there are some things we just can’t explain. This is one of them.” Hoseok moved away from the leaner man, picking up the brush and running it through Mang’s mane.

“If you’re from a ‘parallel universe’ then why do I recognize this symbol?” Namjoon tapped the pommel of Mang’s saddle, a slight smirk on his face.

Hoseok froze, “This is my Royal Crest. How do you recognize it?”

↣ all rights reserved © sunkissedwriter 2021.

↣ please do not repost work. images, netflix posters, and synopsis screens were made by @hisunshiine​ please do not repost. translations/modifications are not allowed.

↣ all stories are posted with the authors permission, and each story provides a link to the author and to their original content. due to some of them not having tumblr, they have asked me, the creator of the event, to post their stories.

[danglydolan]

Earned it ♡ Grayson (smut)

Summary: You come home from a long trip and Grayson and you have a fun night celebrating you’re back.

Word count: 2.195

Requested!

It was late in the afternoon, and you were feeling mentally and physically exhausted. You just got back from a two week trip that your boss had dragged you into, and because you didn’t want to let him down you decided to come with him and all your colleagues, who were just as excited as you. Not.

The trip had not exactly been what you expected it to be (it was horrible) and you were delighted to be back. You had missed your boyfriend Grayson very, very much and you were craving his jokes and smile that made your day, no matter how you felt.

Since you guys lived together you had never spent a night apart, so to be gone for two weeks felt extremely weird. You missed his laugh, his love, his stories and falling asleep every night next to him. You wanted to hug him, touch him and definitely do some other things too…

You always thought that being away from him for a couple of days wouldn’t drive you insane, but the shirtless pictures that he sent in the second  week made your knees weak.

~~~

You drive into the lane of your house and see to your unpleasant surprise that the lights inside were off and the curtains upstairs were closed. Weird… Normally around this time of the day Grayson would be back from work or whatever he was doing.

Sometimes it got late, when he needed to edit a long video or he was having a fun time with Ethan, but that was very rare. He loved to be home and spend as much as time as he could with you.

And especially today; you just got back from being away for such a long time and he said he missed you like crazy. Why wasn’t he home to greet you then? With a strange feeling in your stomach you park your car, grab your bags and drag them with you to the door.

You let yourself in and somehow manage to get to the kitchen were it was also completely dark. You turn the lights on, turn around and notice a present that Grayson had left you.

A beautiful bouquet of flowers was standing in a vase and a red, plastic box was placed on the kitchen table. With a goofy smile you walk towards it and see a small note hidden between the roses, which said:

I missed you like crazy, Y/N. I bought something for you (it’s in the box). Put it on and go upstairs. It’s time to celebrate.

Your cheeks heat up when you open the box. Your mouth drops at the sight of the present. Grayson had bought he most gorgeous pair of lingerie for you. You adored that he exactly knew what you liked. It was totally made out of lace and covered with lila coloured flowers.

You quickly put it on and are stunned at how Grayson knew your exact size. You didn’t know how he discovered that; maybe he just seeked through your underwear drawer.

But anyway, you thought it looked gorgeous on yourself. Just like any other girl you were sometimes insecure about your body, but oh boy, how you felt sexy you in this.

You leave your clothes and stuff for what they are, tuck your hair behind your ears, take a deep breath and try to calm your damn nerves. Why were you feeling nervous but excited at the same time? Maybe it was just because you hadn’t seen him in such a long time and you were a little tired from traveling all day.

You go upstairs and when you arrive on the first floor you see rose petals leading to the bedroom. You hold your step and when you listen closely, you hear soft music playing, coming from the bedroom. Your favourite song, Earned It by The Weeknd was playing. On your tippy toes you walk to the door and slowly open it.

(I very highly recommend you listen to this song if you continue to read this! In my opinon it makes reading it more enjoyable.)

As you enter the room you finally see the man of your dreams; Grayson Dolan. He was wearing nothing but only some boxershorts and just the sight of his biceps, pretty face, fluffy hair and pasty thighs made your heart beat faster.

He was just laying casually on the bed, looking like an angel as always. You had almost forgotton how handsome he was and feel suddenly extremely thankful that you had such a beautiful human in your life.

‘Y/N,’ is the only thing he says. His face brightens and he shuts his eyes for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe you were finally here. He quickly gets up and almost runs up to you. He lifts you up and swings you around like you weigh as much as a feather.

You wrap your arms around his neck while he spins you through the room, your heart swelling from joy. You giggle and when Grayson puts you down he stares at you like it’s the first time he sees you.

‘God, I missed you so much, Y/N. You have no idea how much I thought about going to Florida to come and pick you up. I thought I was going insane.’ You chuckle. ‘I missed you too, baby. I’m happy to be back.’

Grayson cups your cheeks and leans in to kiss you gently. The taste of his lips was so heavenly that you eagery press your body closer to his, wanting to taste and have all of him.

Your hands trail up and down his body to feel every muscle and every place on his skin you had missed while you were away. Was it just your imagination or were his arms even bigger than they were two weeks ago?

It felt like you could go on for hours, but Grayson eventually takes a step back. He locks eyes with you again and bites his lips. ‘What are you thinking?’ you ask quietly.

There is a moment of silence and you could feel the attraction like a magnet; the electricity was almost touchable and it was pulling Grayson and you towards each other.

‘Turn around,’ Grayson responds in a deep voice. It takes a moment before you notice the strict tone in his voice, something he always had when was in the mood. He wanted you. You could sense his arousement and his craving.

You do as he says and when you face the wall, Grayson puts his hands on your hips and puts his chin on your shoulder. When his breath hits your cold skin you shudder slightly. He was turning you on.

‘I missed you so much… Do you know how much I missed you, baby?’ His voice was thick of lust and you swallow the rock in your throat. ‘N-No…’  

'Then I guess I’m going to have to show you, right?’ Grayson’s hands start to run up and down your thighs and your arms, and you gasp loudly when he gives your breasts a firm squeeze. 'Gray-’ you say, but he hushes you. 'Sshh… Tonight you can call me daddy.’

Your eyes grow wider and you were glad Grayson stood behind you so he couldn’t see you smiling like a goof. He had never spoken dirty to you like this, but hey, you weren’t complaining.

While one hand went back to your hip, the fingers of the other one began to draw tiny circles on your stomach, slowly trailing down to just above the waistline of your panties.

You held your breath in suspense, feeling a sudden heat between your inner thighs. He plays with the waistline of your panties, playfully tucking at it and you know he was teasing you.

'Grayson,’ you warn him. You feel Grayson’s cheeks become rounder and turning into a smile against the side of your face. 'Patience, baby.’ His lips grazed the skin of your shoulders and neck, making you feel all warm and tingly.

Of course you were enjoying every moment of this, but the fact that he was teasing the fuck out of you made the situation almost unbearable. You had been craving his body for two weeks; the only thing you wanted now was him to touch you. 'Grayson, please.’

His hands trail to the waistline of your panties again and finally his hand find it’s way in it. His hand is so close to the place where you really needed him right now, but he doesn’t touch you anywhere. Not yet. His warmth makes the heat grow heavier and you almost couldn’t take it anymore. He was irresistible.

Your panties were soaked and Grayson could feel that as well. 'So wet for me already… And we haven’t even started yet,’ he chuckled softly. Oh, how he was loving the power he had over you. He knew you were complete putty in his hands, and tonight wasn’t different.

You gasp for air when he finally stroked a finger against your clit, carefully feeling you between your slicked folds. You arch your back, but Grayson saw it coming and is able to hold you back, pressing you hard against his bare chest. He runs two fingers up and down your folds. You breathe in sharply and close your eyes. 'Oh. Oh… Daddy…’

Grayson growled and he slowly pushed two fingers inside of you. You would have fallen over if Grayson didn’t pressed his hands to your waist, being determined to make you feel amazing tonight.

'Oh baby, I’m going to make you come so hard. You have no idea,’ he whispers into your ear as he starts to pump faster. His voice was deep and husky and didn’t sound like the usual. He was really loving this daddy-thing. And you were too.

A burning sensation was developing between your legs and you feel a familiar knot in the pit of your stomach. You knew you were slowly reaching an orgasm. 'Daddy… I’m close,’ you cry out.

You throw your head back over his shoulder as your legs start to shake uncontrollable. Just at that exact moment Grayson decides to stop and take his fingers out.

'Grayson!’ you whine, feeling frustrated. He was teasing the flying fuck out of you. 'You’re not coming until I say so. You have to beg for it, baby.’ You felt Grayson’s erection poke your ass. 'Daddy, please. I want you so bad. I need you,’ you begged, playing along.

Grayson growled approvingly while one hand went to your panties and he slips two fingers back again, dipping them inside with a practiced ease. You buck your hips upward to meet his movement, soft moans escaping your mouth. You hear Grayson grinning; he knew very well he was driving you wild.

His fingers stroked against your folds, your walls tightening around them. 'Oh… Gray,’ you moan in pleasure, eyes closed again. You moan even louder when he starts picking up the speed, his thumb vigorously rubbing circles on your clit.

'You’re close,’ he whispered into your ear, breathing heavily. He knew your body so well that he could feel it when you were close to reaching your climax. 'Yes, daddy,’ you whisper, your breath unsteady. You were losing it, and it was a complete mystery how you were still standing up straight.

Grayson’s tight grip on your waist was the support you needed at this moment. 'Say my name, baby. Say it,’ Grayson demanded. Your body wanted to twitch, but Grayson was still capable to hold you as still as possible, making sure you received the most pleasure as possible. 'Fuck. Daddy!’

Grayson curls his fingers and you squeal loudly; the heavenly sensation bursting and sending fire through your veins, which made your legs and hands tremble. Embarrassing moans were leaving your mouth, but you couldn’t help it. He was touching you just right.

Not that it was a surprise, though; he knew all your weak spots like the back of his hand. You dug your nails into Grayson’s arms and bite your lip, trying to contain the pleasure this boy was giving you.

Grayson curls his rough fingers even further, touching the almost impossible nerve to reach; and that was it for you; you come completely and totally undone. 'Yes… Just like that. Good girl,’ he praises you.

Your vision went white for a few seconds before the amazing sensation slowly faded away, leaving your core sensitive. Grayson kept gently stroking your inner walls until the last wave of your orgasm had ebbed way.

You sigh deeply, feeling content and deeply in love. After a minute of trying to get yourself together while Grayson kissed the crook of your neck, you turn around to meet his dark eyes.

'I love you so much, Gray,’ you say happily, smiling at him. Grayson’s lips curl into a big smile as his hands stroked your back. 'I love you too, princess. You look by the way incredibly sexy in that. Even better than I had imagined it.’

Your heart flutters at his sweet words. 'Thank you.’ You giggle when Grayson lifts you up and carries you to the bed. 'Now let’s really get started.’

[solivar]

WIP: Ghost Stories On Route 66

aka the one in which Hanzo Shimada is an expatriate art student, Jesse McCree is an NPS ranger, both are more than they appear, weird stuff is going down in the New Mexican desert, and their lives collide in the middle of it.

Now with 100% more Junkrat and Roadhog in speaking roles!

At some point after he fell asleep, Jesse had turned to face him and now they lay entangled in a mass of cloak and covers and intertwined limbs, with his ranger’s head just beneath his chin, nestled against his chest, as though seeking comfort in the warmth of his body. And it was both comfortable and warm, cocooned in sheets and blankets that smelled of them both and the subtler scents of home, fresh tatami and free-flowing water and the perfume of the trees on the wind that swept down the sides of the mountain. Drowsily he opened his eyes and drowsily he looked out over his grandmother’s water garden through the half-open shoji, wisps of mist rising from the spring-fed pond, the trees ringing it a riot of scarlet and crimson, golden and copper, the autumn-cool breeze on his face and hands a delicious contrast to the ranger’s warm breath on his throat. One of his hands lazily found its way into Jesse’s hair and he stirred in response, shifted slightly, erased the last of the space between them, and it was all he could do not to bend down and kiss him awake, to spend the rest of the morning and the day after giving him whatever comfort he might desire. Their lips had just brushed for the first time when the sound of the shoji sliding still further drew his attention and he realized that they were not alone.

“About time you got here.” The ranger who was not his ranger drawled from his place on the verandah, beast-golden eyes glinting in the early morning light. “Took you long enough.”

Hanzo stiffened and, next to him, Jesse murmured indistinctly and half-opened dark eyes dazed with interrupted sleep and uncured fatigue.

“Shhhhh,” Hanzo whispered to him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Go back to sleep, koishii. You’re safe here.”

He waited until Jesse drifted back down, only then sliding out of his arms and drawing the covers back over him to keep away the chill. He stepped into the shoes waiting for him, slid the shoji completely closed, and stood there for a moment with his back to the ranger-who-was-not-his-ranger, breathing the cool air of the mountains, of the shrine, until he was certain he could control himself. When he turned around, he found that the not-ranger had abandoned the verandah for the mossy stones ringing the pond, crouched in the shadow a scarlet maple watching the bright-scaled fish rising from the depths of the dark water to feed off the surface. For a moment, he did as well, and tried to permit the peace of doing so to fully infuse his spirit, forced his hands to sit open on his thighs as he knelt and breathed and finally said, “Was it you?”

“Hmmm?” The not-ranger looked up, head tilted quizzically, eyes wide and disingenuously innocent and Hanzo found his hands curling into his fists and he swore he felt the teeth lengthening in his mouth.

“Was it you,” He bit off each word sharply and precisely, “who brought him into this world? Who abandoned him to pain and loneliness and self-doubt? And, if it was not you, who was it?”

The not-ranger stared at him, wordlessly, for several seconds, his eyes growing gradually rounder and the corners of his mouth sliding into an unnaturally wide smile and finally he threw his head back and laughed. Hanzo felt a rumble begin low in his chest, one that clawed its way up his throat and emerged as a wordless sound of fury functionally indistinguishable from a growl, and the only reason he didn’t lunge across the space separating them was because he saw the not-ranger waiting for him to do so and knew where that would end for both of them. He could not, however, force his hands to unclench.

“Ah, cousin.” The not-ranger wiped his eyes with the back of one hand as his burst good humor ran its course. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised -- of course defending your mate it what it takes to make you show your fangs.”

Hanzo bristled and only barely resisted to urge to actually bare his teeth. “Is that a no?”

“Peace, cousin.” The tips of two clawed fingers came to rest in the center of his forehead, and suddenly there was no distance between them, and he felt calm pouring through him from that point of contact, peeling the tension out of his shoulders and his spine, almost against his will. “I am not your enemy. And, no, I am not the one who made him.” A sharp-toothed smile. “In fact, historically speaking, I’m more likely to be found killing his kind, not fathering them. Or, to be pedantic about it, tricking the powerful but not too smart ones into accidentally killing themselves.”

“But you were there the night his grandparents found him.” He opened his hands and found himself fighting the urge to rest his head against the not-ranger’s shoulder.

“I was. I carried him away, you see.” Hanzo looked up quickly, and found the not-ranger’s face inches from his own, sorrow in his golden eyes. “It’s good he never went searching for his mother. There wouldn’t be much left to find.”

Hanzo shivered convulsively. “You saved him.”

“I helped. It seemed the thing to do.” The not-ranger settled down cross-legged a handspan away. “That meddlesome old woman who lives in a hole in the ground might have had something to do with it.”

“We have spoken.” Hanzo said dryly. “Did she send you to me, as well?”

“Maybe.” Those golden eyes flicked away, and then back. “Maybe not.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Hanzo snapped. “Are you serious? This is my life at stake here, a straight answer would be wildly appreciated.”

“Unfortunately, those are rarely in my repertoire and the lack is a sorry side-effect of being related to me.” A sharp-toothed grin, completely undisturbed by Hanzo’s tone, and he found himself wrestling with the urge to throw the not-ranger in the pond again. “But, for the record? You are choosing wisely. And growing stronger by the moment. That’s why we’re all here. Well, one of the reasons.”

“Shared dreams.” Hanzo grabbed his frustration and forced it back down. “This is my dream, and I brought him into it?”

The not-ranger planted his chin on his fist and rolled his eyes heavenward. “I think we just had a conversation about straight answers.”

“So, yes.” His reward was the world’s fangiest grin of encouragement. “Because even though I was only here once...and terrible things happened to me here...it still feels safe to me? Because this was the last place I was wholly and completely myself before…” His eyes stung. “This is the last place I was whole and safe, and it will keep him whole and safe, as well. And...if I took him to Hanamura...the Lady might not see him as I do.”

“A not-irrational chain of suppositions.” The not-ranger murmured encouragingly.

“And the other reason?” Hanzo asked, rhetorically, and allowed his gaze to finally drift across the garden, and the trees beyond it that almost but not entirely screened the highest point of the gabled shrine roof from view. “I am going to have to go back.”

The not-ranger was silent but regarded him steadily with something like compassion in his unnaturally bright eyes. Hanzo took a deep, ragged breath that had no peace in it and released it in a shuddering sigh that took none of the emotion churning in his gut with it. “What would it cost me,” He asked carefully, “to receive one true answer from your lips?”

“Only one?” The not-ranger replied, tone musing. “A task of my choosing, to be performed when I ask it, without hesitation.”

“Did you know her -- the Shimada warrior who came to fight the Serpent-Wolf all those years ago?” Hanzo asked, almost before he realized that was the question he most wanted answered.

“Yes, I knew her -- then and now. We are kin, after all.” He reached out again, and the tip of one clawed finger rested in the center of his chest. “You need to wake up.”

*

Hanzo jerked unceremoniously awake and, for an instant, he had no idea where he was, head swimming with disorientation, with the sudden change in time and place and he was looking up at something looming over him in the warm mostly-darkness, something with enormous glowing green eyes set in an angularly misshapen face that bore only a passing resemblance to humanity. The sound that escaped him wasn’t the loudest shriek he’d ever uttered, but the decibel level caused the looming monstrosity to recoil and emit a high-pitched sound of its own and that allowed him to roll across the bed and snatch up one of the fireplace tools to act as a makeshift weapon as he scrambled to his feet. Jesse, still lying curled on his side almost on the edge of the bed, didn’t so much as stir at the commotion.

“Get away from him!” Hanzo hefted the ash shovel into a first strike position that his long-ago sword instructor would definitely not have approved of and made ready to charge.

“Hanzo, wait!” The monster yelped in reply, gesticulating frantically. “It’s me!”

He recognized the voice at once, even muffled as it was, and he lowered his weapon slightly. “Hana?”

“Yes.” She advanced a step into the wan shaft of light falling through the partially opened bedroom door.

“What in the name of all the gods and all of our ancestors do you have on your head?” Hanzo asked and lowered the ash shovel still further, though he held onto it in case this was some sort of fiendish trap of an unexpected nature.

“....Oh. Oh, crap. I didn’t think what it’d look like -- just a second.” She reached up and undid the straps wrapped under her chin and over her mouth and lifted the whole horrifically misshapen contraption off her head, her hair tumbling out of it in a mass of greasy tangles. A significant quantity of grease also adhered to her cheeks, her forehead, and around her eyes, giving her the aspect of an adorably contrite racoon. “I’m sorry?”

“Forgiven.” Hanzo sighed and replaced the ash shovel in the rack next to the fireplace. “And I’m sorry, too. What is that thing?”

“It’s okay. I did sort of sneak up on you unawares. And they’re aetheric perception goggles.” Hana replied and handed the object to him which did, legitimately, appear to be a set of goggles made up of a half-dozen overlapping lenses inscribed around the edges and across some of the surfaces with arcane markings, mounted in a durable setting of similarly inscribed metal and leather on what was clearly intended to be an adjustable-to-size head covering. He could see no pragmatic use for the amount of lubricant slathered across the various interior and exterior surfaces, but he assumed it had some purpose existing outside his spotty and incomplete knowledge of esoteric and possibly magical engineering.

“It lets you see...spirits? Spiritual energies?” He handed it back.

“According to Jamie, both.” And, so saying, she plopped it back in place, redid the straps, and adjusted the lenses slightly. “Admittedly, I haven’t actually seen any spirits yet, which is allegedly a good sign, because it means that nothing that isn’t supposed to be here is wandering through the border wards at will which means that the fixes they made earlier are probably working. But, just in case, Jamie’s also planting some variable phase localized aetheric field generators around the cabin and the hacienda since that’s where we’re all going to be staying tonight.”

“Some who the what now?” Hanzo asked and settled down on the edge of the bed to check on his ranger, who still hadn’t stirred.

“They look like those little solar-powered garden stake lights but, uhm, they’re not? Well, okay, they might be technically solar-powered -- we were charging them all day in the garden of that one abandoned house near the hacienda. The way I understand it is the produce a sort of spirit-repellent field. Mostly they use it to keep places temporarily safe from intrusion and they’re pretty sure it’ll at least help block anything if the Serpent-Wolf tries to get at you again.” A pause. “Honestly, a lot of this still sounds like the magical version of Star Trek technobabble, I mean I keep waiting for him to suggest bouncing a graviton beam off the main deflector dish, but it also kinda makes sense? I mean, there are some rules here, apparently. I just have to figure them out. And speaking of figuring things out, wow, you look like three thousand percent better? All the stuff inside you that was loose or frayed or broken is almost totally back together again. Ooooh, I wonder if you put this on and looked at yourself in the mirror if you could see it?”

“Maybe later.” Hanzo looked up and smiled wryly. “Can you see Ranger McCree, as well?”

“Yeah. He...looks kinda beat, actually? Drained almost?” Hana reached up and flipped the actual goggle parts of the headgear up and latched them in place on her forehead. “I understand things got a little hairy last night.”

“Yes, they did. And he didn’t get all the rest he needed then, or for most of the day today.” He rose and pulled the blankets higher, tucked them into place around his ranger’s body. “We should let him sleep.”

“Not even going to argue. We brought some dinner, if you’re hungry?” She held the door open for him and he closed it gently behind them, consulting the relevant parts of his anatomy and finding them entirely open to the idea of eating.

Terrifying Smoke Gabe was already at work in the kitchen and handed him one of the ranger’s heavy ceramic plates loaded down with grilled chicken and rice, a ramekin of pickled vegetables, and an enormous serving of corn cake oozing with melted butter and honey. “Jess still asleep?”

“At the moment, yes.” Hanzo settled down on one of the prep island stools and accepted the silverware Hana handed to him. “We barely made it back here before he went down. Genji told you?”

“He did.” Gabe tilted his head and regarded him steadily for a moment through four pairs of coolly glowing crimson eyes. “Thank you for looking after him. I was sure he wasn’t right when he left the house but…” He trailed off and glanced down the hall. “Ana said it might have been a side effect of shaking off the medicine so early.”

“He didn’t seem entirely himself when I found him.” Hanzo admitted carefully, intensely aware of Hana pouring herself a glass of lemonade at the other end of the kitchen.

“I’m going to check on him if you two don’t mind.” And, so saying and without waiting for their reply, he disappeared down the hall and into the bedroom.

“Come with me.” Hana dragged him away from the prep island, only barely granting him time to gather up his plate, and into the living room. “I thought he was going to watch you eat every bite. Sit down for a second, have I got something to show you…”

Both their bags were stacked side-by-side on the coffee table and, to his surprise, Hana began rooting around in his bag, drawing out his tablet and pushing it toward him. “I sent you the links in an email but, well, while you guys were out this afternoon and I was babysitting solar stakes, I started poking around to see what I could see about this place and --” She paused, listened intensely for a moment, continued. “The people. Because I’m nosy like that and I’d rather not be axe murdered and buried in a shallow grave in the desert in the event of a sudden but inevitable betrayal.”

“Really, Hana?” Hanzo asked, exasperated, but thumbed open the screen. “They’ve been nothing but --”

Staring up at him was a grainy photograph, obviously a still lifted from the camera roll of a news drone suffering from substandard imaging equipment, of a much, much younger Jesse McCree, strapped to a hover-gurney and surrounded by EMTs under the headline MASSACRE IN DEADLOCK GORGE which Hana had helpfully saved as the device’s wallpaper.

“...Oh.” Hanzo said and had, at that moment, absolutely no idea what else to say.

“You are going to want to read that.” Hana’s expression was uncharacteristically sober. “It’s a ten-year retrospective on...whatever it was that went down, it not entirely clear even ten years later, but I think it can be accurately assessed as some serious shit.”

“I will do that.” He hurriedly opened his email app before anyone could come in behind him and look over his shoulder . “What even made you --”

“Like I said, better slightly paranoid and prepared than hacked into undergraduate bits and stuffed in an abandoned mineshaft.” Hana replied. “And you better check your email because my professors have everything rescheduled already. Oh, and speaking of professors? Your boyfriend occasionally guest lectures at UNM and he’s a doctoral candidate in cultural anthropology with a specialist concentration in folklore. Jamie gave me that one.”

“Jamie.” He tried to place a face with the name but couldn’t quite do as, with with slowly dawning horror, he watched the number of messages tagged with bright red exclamation points proliferate in a manner not unlike hormonal rodents in the spring.

“The tall one? Aussie, looks like his hair’s on fire, likes to claim that the layer of grease is actually a protective unguent that drives off demons?” She plopped down next to him and stole bites from his plate while he sorted messages. “He and Roadie are staying here tonight, too. Outside. In Matilda.”

Hanzo looked up from a frankly alarming email that suggested his thesis advisor intended to call on him at home in the next day or two, delivered that morning. “Matilda?”

“He also likes to claim that’s an acronym but, frankly, I think he’s kinda full of it.” Hana swallowed a stolen mouthful and gestured toward the front windows. “It’s a mobile supernatural entity self-defense shelter and while I’m sure all the letters for MATILDA are in that collection of words...” She shrugged eloquently. “He seems to think that this is the perfect opportunity for a field test.”

Hanzo stood up, crossed to the windows, and peered out. Parked in the middle of the street, clearly illuminated by the porch light, was the result of a mescaline-fueled liaison between a cigar tube, a 50s-style sci fi flick UFO, and a classic Winnebago, boxy in a vaguely organically rounded sort of way, at least two storeys tall, and chrome plated right down to the awnings jutting off the back and side, over the disgorged boarding platform and the pair of nylon camp chairs planted next to it. One of them was occupied by a giant shadow, as wide across the shoulders as he was tall, and which raised a hand that could use a hollowed out half of a watermelon as a shotglass and offered a friendly wave. Hanzo waved back and let the curtains fall shut, acknowledging at least to himself that that wasn’t even the strangest thing he’d seen that day. “...Do you think that’s going to work?”

“The goggles do!” Hana replied cheerfully. “Speaking of which, do you mind if I hit the shower first? I really need to get this crap out of my hair before it solidifies.”

“Go. Use the ranger’s shampoo. It’s wonderful.” He followed her as far as the linen cabinet, the better to fetch her a fresh pillow.

“You’re the best.” She tossed her overnight bag into the bathroom and paused at the door. “Don’t think I didn’t notice, Hanzo.”

“Notice what?” He asked, sensing a trap.

“That you didn’t argue when I called him your boyfriend. I’m so proud of you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and slammed the bathroom door in his face before he could either resist or argue the point.

Hanzo stood for a moment, staring at the closed bathroom door, hand resting on his cheek, an expression of half-crazed emotion slowly growing across his face that he knew in his bones would result in any normal human backing slowly away from him while looking desperately around for something to use as a weapon. Even a few days ago, it would have made him back slowly away looking for a weapon. Now, it felt reasonably natural even as his assorted inner voices of reason and if not madness at least something close to it argued in the back of his mind at nearly-audible-to-others volume and he drifted down the hall in the direction of the ranger’s bedroom door.

Your mate. The words cycled through his mind, spoken in the not-ranger’s raspy drawl, and there was nothing in him that could even pretend to deny it, not reason and not something much nearer to madness. Your mate. Just thinking those words made strange things happen inside his chest, painful, wonderful things that made him want to kick the bedroom door open, shake his ranger awake, and demand to know what he thought, what he felt, what he wanted.

Instead, he stopped just outside, hand poised to knock and held by the sound of Terrifying Smoke Gabe’s voice, quiet and low and oh so very gentle, and then the ranger’s, softer and deeper and something in it tightened his throat and made his eyes sting, even though he couldn’t quite understand the actual words they were speaking. The intimacy of it, perhaps, the sort of closeness that came of two people who knew and loved one another well, who knew that there were no words that they could not speak, no comfort that they could not ask. And he could not bring himself to intrude on that, no matter how fiercely he desired words and comfort of his own.

He stepped away and padded softly back down the hall, retrieving another blanket for Hana, and made up her bed on the world’s most comfortable couch. It seemed the best use of his time and another good use came to him as voices drifted in from outside and he became aware of the flicker of firelight through the curtains. He poked his head out the door and found both the nylon camp chairs now occupied, the extinct gourd firepit relocated to the road next to MATILDA, casting its light over one man so enormously tall and lanky the only possible explanation for it was a tragic accident involving an industrial taffy puller and another who was very simply a mountain given human form, wearing what looked like a heavily modified antique gas mask. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

“‘Ello, mate!” The victim of cruel and unusual taffy pulling grinned cheerfully at him, smile wide and bright and slightly snaggletoothed, in a face that did in fact appear to be covered in some form of deliberately applied soot/grease combination. “Yer lookin’ a fair sight better than you were the last time we saw ya. How goes?”

“I’ve been worse.” Hanzo admitted, and opened the door enough to step out onto the porch. “Can I get you anything? Blankets? Something to drink, or eat?”

“We’ve got alla that squared away in MATILDA here but I think I speak for both of us when I say a nice warm cuppa would be welcome. Right, Roadie?” Jamie -- it had to be Jamie -- cast a sidelong look at the mountain, who nodded mountainously in response. “Tea, if we could? Jess usually has some in his pantry. And thank ya kindly for the offer.”

“Of course. You are entirely welcome.”

A brief perusal of the ranger’s cabinets yielded both a proper teapot -- heavy earthenware to hold the heat -- and, to his vast amusement, a selection of knitted tea cozies to go around it, with its own inset metal strainer. A second provided mugs, likewise earthenware, and large enough to serve even the giants outside. He found a pleasantly fragrant canister of loose-leaf tea blended through with herbs and bits of dried orange peel and flower blossoms in the pantry. While the tea was steeping he put together a selection of additives -- sugar, a jar of honey, lemon slices, a creamer for the milk, a plate of iced biscuits. Hana drifted through the kitchen during the course of his preparations and he poured her a cup and adulterated it to her preferences, delivering it to her nest of blankets before carrying the rest outside.

“Ahhhh, yer a scholar and a gentleman.” Jamie sighed as Hanzo set the tea caddy down on the somewhat rickety camp table that had materialized between the chairs. “Join us?”

“I believe I will.” Hanzo ducked inside just long enough to retrieve his jacket, a mug, and his tablet and, by the time he returned, a third chair had appeared beside the firepit.

Jamie poured for him as he settled down and for a moment they sat in companionable silence while they passed honey and lemon wedges, stirred and sipped.

“I gotta admit, I’m glad we’re having a chance for a sit-down -- I was a little worried about alla ya after everything that happened t’other night.” Jamie set his cup down and leaned over to scrutinize him in the firelight. “Jess was all kinds of worried and he doesn’t worry easy.”

“And I’m grateful for all of your help.” Hanzo replied, honestly. “And also sorry that I dragged you all into this.”

“Nah, nothing t’be sorry for, mate. We’re all in this t’gether and we take care of our own out here.” Jamie reached out and patted him companionably on the shoulder.

“If it is not too intrusive a question, how did you meet him? Ranger McCree?” Hanzo asked.

“That’s not too much t’ask at all. In fact, it’s quite the story, innit, Roadie?” Jamie grinned across the fire at his companion, who made a sound not entirely like a concordant avalanche sliding down a slope of general agreement in response. “We moved here...oh, almost eight years ago now -- climate here is better for Roadie’s health, his lungs’re bad, need the drier, cleaner air -- but before we did we went scopin’ about for properties in the area where we could set up a workshop and junkyard and a house and suchlike all right and close t’gether. Found a place almost straightaway that’d suit just up the road from here, solid in the middle of nowhere, dirt cheap -- bein’ auctioned off for back taxes according to the real estate website. Didn’t realize until we got here that was a load’a hooey because all the properties south of the Red Line had their property tax liens vacated years ago but, well, we were here and we’d taken possession.”

“Things were weird almost from the start.” Roadie rumbled seismically, an effort at speech that seemed to extract a tremendous cost from him -- he adjusted the filters on his mask and inhaled deeply several times.

“Yeah, yeah it was. Noises in the night -- right up close to the house, so that we were worried to go outside much after dark, sometimes during the day while we were cleaning out the mess left in the salvage yard.” Jamie sipped his tea again. “It got so bad we took to barricading the doors and boarding up the windows from the inside ‘cause we were sure there was a whole pack of coyotes out there itchin’ to gnaw our bones.”

All the hairs on the back of Hanzo’s scalp stood up and saluted simultaneously. “Naayéé.”

“Ayep. A whole bunch of ‘em. We had no idea, of course, nor what t’do or where t’go for help but one day while I was pickin’ up supplies I mentioned in passin’ to the shopkeep what was going on and she gave me his card.” A little grin. “I remember thinkin’ what good is this gonna do and then I called him and, well, you know how it is, when he talks t’you and it’s like how it’s from his lips to God’s ear and nothing ever is going to go or be wrong again and then he comes and kicks everything’s ass and makes you breakfast in the morning?”

“Intimately.” Hanzo replied, dryly.

“So, yeah, he came and sorted our problem in a trice and then called Rein over and introduced us and we got the whole place properly secured and I started studyin’ with him in the craft and here we are.” He sighed. “Best years of our lives, mate. Good place and better people.”

Hanzo smiled at the surface of his tea. “I’m inclined to agree.”

The silence lapsed into companionable again. Hanzo turned his attention, reluctantly, to the massive backlog of email he had accumulated, disposing of the most pressing items, adjusting his calendar for the next weeks in accord with the updated post-crisis class schedule, and responding to Dr. Saddind-Maas’ assorted missives, entreating her forcefully not to go anywhere near the condo since he wasn’t home and wouldn’t be until Tuesday morning at the earliest. Then he called her cell and left a message on her voicemail reiterating that information and suggesting they meet instead at her office at some point in the next week. Then he penciled himself in on her open access meeting schedule to further underscore the point. It was, ultimately, all he could do.

Toshokan-in had not yet replied to his query of the family genealogical databases or the historical archive, a fact he found somewhere in the precise junction between irritating and mildly alarming. Of course, it was already a business day in Japan and, if system maintenance ran late, it was entirely likely his admittedly non-emergency task had been shunted into the lowest possible priority queue. He summoned all his patience, resisted the urge to query her again, and turned his attention to the last thing he wished to deal with.

The link Hana sent him contained a brief precis of the article in question. It was, as Hana said, a ten year retrospective on events that had occurred in a place called Deadlock Gorge, written by a local true crime author who had spent years of her life researching both the circumstances of the “massacre” and the history of the location. Hana’s notes suggested that he read it in stages because some of the crime scene photos were a lot. Hanzo, staring down at the picture of Jesse -- pale, unconscious, strapped to a gurney beneath a mass of medical tubing and oxygen delivery equipment -- had absolutely no desire to read it at all.