#I am in pain but sure a hot receptionist

[ponpuriitx]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓.

One shot: Blitzø x hell born! Reader.

Summary: A stand up night, that was all it was meant to be. Or maybe it wasn’t..

Word count: 1,0k

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut suggestions but nothing too crazy, friends with benefits, slight angst but fluff.

Notes: This is a one shot ! ! A short story that just came into my mind out of nowhere, and because let’s be honest lil’ Blitzø needs love for fucks sake. If there’s any grammar mistake please let me know ! !

It was no secret that you wanted Blitzø. Well, at least not for Loona.

It all started when you submitted your application to work for I.M.P, you got a call back and had to meet your boss.

And oh boy, was it just you or was he really hot? Couldn’t get through the whole meeting without looking at him not giving a fuck about what he had to say. The last words that actually passed your dumb founded skull was a “You’re hired!” That snapped you out of your trance.

You nodded thanking him like one thousand times, it was easy to do that because you actually needed the fucking money. when you went out of the office you saw a hell hound that was the receptionist. Before entering the meeting you actually got a chance to talk to her, bonding a little rather quickly because of Verosika and her hot Body guard.

After you went out, she glanced at you over her phone “So? How was it?” She asked, going back to her phone but still hearing you. When you told her you would be working here she just smirked still looking at her phone.

It wasn’t a long time till you got used to the Job, I mean it was pretty much just sit there with Loona and usually anytime costumers arrived you would take them. And when Loona did take them and she loose her temper you would do it for her meanwhile she draws daggers with her eyes to the client. You thought that at this steps she would eventually get fired, it didn’t take you long enough to find out that she was your bosses daughter.

Now, with that in mind it didn’t mind you being in this position.

You were in the backseat of I.M.P’s van because Loona called Blitzø to come and pick her up. When you parked and Loona was convincing Blitz to actually hop on the party you weren’t much sure about this idea. You weren’t a party pooper really, but something was telling you inside that you shouldn’t be here. You were on the van because you just so happened to be on the road when Blitz told you to hop on, you didn’t have actual important things to do so you just went with the flow.

Just like now. Looking in between the yelling crowd how your boss was finishing the beer supply without any care and actually beating Beel, making Loona proud. You eventually lost yourself in the crowd, trying not to bump with anyone because you didn’t want to talk to nobody. This type of environment made you uncomfortable, so you stepped into the van and waited for Blitz and Loona to come.

Fuck you fell asleep..

You cleaned the drool from your mouth, looking around where Loona parked in. It was your bosses apartment, “Hey Loona, care to crash at my place for a while and bring me some of the groceries I left? I’m gonna take care of him don’t worry.” She doubted for a second, but eventually let go.

You placed Blitzø in the couch, as you went in the kitchen and grabbed some water for him. Putting the water down, you turned on the tv. After a while of changing through programs you felt a little tug on your things, your head snapping to the sheets as you saw the imp trying to get through your pants. You couldn’t deny it was so fucking hot, still, you pushed him down a little.

“Hey, HEY boss hold on are you all right?” You asked, as he gave you a smirk and relied his head slightly on your inner thigh “I am.. Fiinee” you didn’t believe that because of the tone on his voice. You were about to protest when you felt a sharp but so, so euphoric pain on your inner thigh making a laud moan like whine slip out of your lips.

You felt how the tips of his fingers played through the hem of your underwear, now this was a whole new level. Of course you weren’t a virgin but this, this was different. His fingers slipping in so secure under your underwear touching your aching core, taking high pitched whimpers out of you..

. . .

The next morning, Blitzø woke up in his bed naked. The morning light hurting his eyes as he hugged his own figure, he repositioned himself rubbing his eyes and letting a deep sigh off. He didn’t remember much of last nigh, he could’ve sworn that Loony was the one who brought him back to his place—..

Then, he saw it. Some of your clothes on the floor, he remembered. The long lasting night, the moans, the sounds, how his room was filled with filthy sounds and laughter. The way he grabbed the bare flesh of your thigh as he thrusted deep and rough inside of you. The way you scratched his back so deliciously because of his thrusts, but it was strange. Why were your clothes here if he woke up alone?

It was just a one night thing, this is how it always went for him. You guys fuck and then leave, it was a routine for more that he hated it. That was just how things go, his thoughts stopped when he heard the door opening. You with one of his shirts on and your underwear, “Already up?” You said, you could’ve sworn that he was going to sleep till more later.

Blitz then traced his eyes through your shoulders, how it was laced with Bites and hickeys. You noticed this and chuckled slightly “don’t worry, I’ll get rid of them eventually. Come on, breakfast is ready.” You said walking off to the kitchen leaving a confused Blitzø behind.

This was supposed to be a one night stand thing, but why did you stayed? Weren’t you going to leave? He wasn’t complaining, I mean free breakfast is a win. But it still made him crack a smile.

So it’s safe to say that it wasn’t weird when that “one night stand” turned into three, and three into seven and slowly they didn’t seem like just “meet up to fuck” anymore.

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part SEVEN

Two Parts of the story in one day you guys really are lucky!! How is Y/n going to cope when one Vee is flirty, the other manipulative and the other wants to just help her get in a hot steamy shower ...

Trigger warning: a bit of violence

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

Three heads all explode, one after the other. The only mishap was you were so very close to the splash zone. Groaning to yourself you wipe your cheek with your hand, covered in warm blood you grumble. Gross. Pulling out a pack of tissues from your dropped purse you quickly scrub where you saw had landed but there was no way of getting rid of all of it … biting your lip you decide to carry on walking to the Vee Tower. You did after all have an appointment.

-----

Pushing the door to enter The Vee Tower you ignore the receptionist who tried to make eye contact with you, jabbing the button to the elevator you scrunch your nose up as you notice the blood under your nails. Ew. Gross.

At the ding you climb into the elevator, focused on cleaning your nails and not noticing how the camera moved to focus on you. After a few moments you heard another ding, not paying attention to your surroundings as you noticed you got blood on your boots as well – jeez killing sinners was a messy business - you manage to walk directly into a certain Vee. And not the one you were meant to be meeting. A small squeak escaped your lips as you began to tumble backwards from recoiling however two large, gloved hands grasped your waist pulling you back up firmly against a red coat stopping your fall.

“Woah now Princessa, if you wanted to jump my bones you just had to say”, his mischievous tinted gaze lowered to your own. His mocking smile dropped a little when he registered the state you were in.  

Gripping your chin firmly with his fingers, not letting you move an inch but making sure your gaze  was solely on him: “what has happened?”  That playful tone to his voice was gone but instead was scarily low for him, a snarl lingering under every word. Trying to shake your head but due to his fingers you couldn’t do much, you raise your own hand to try pry his fingers off. Thwarted before you even had a chance to touch him, he clutched both your hands in his other pair holding them down by your waist. This was not fair! Please tell me you didn’t have to use your shriek more than once today?

“Why the fuck do you look like you’ve drowned yourself in blood, the fuck do I have to kill little one?” His mouth was pulled up in a sinister sneer, his gold tooth flashing while his fingers dug into your chin more making you wince.

“It doesn’t matter Valentino, honest” you try to convince the Moth Overlord, the way his fingers squeezed your hips at your answer you just knew he didn’t believe you. But his grip on your chin lessened and allowed you to pull away from it. Scrunching your face you try to ease the little bit of pain.

“It matters Princessa. So again, I ask. Who. Do. I. Have. To. Kill?” At each pause he squeezed either your hands or your waist, not enough to hurt but enough to make you gasp a little bit.

A blue clawed hand appeared in your vision, resting on Valentino’s arm. You both looked to your side to see Vox there with a concerned expression. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so glad to see the TV Demon.

“Now Val, how about you let our little songbird go and we sort this like civilised demons, yes?” A growl from Valentino made you believe he really didn’t want to have a civilised conversation.

“Not until I find out who the fuck has done this to her. Look at the state of her!” Why the hell did he care? He allowed your hands to go free but his two hands stayed locked on your waist.

“Yes, I can see y/n is looking at bit … er … out of sorts but I am sure there is a reasonable explanation as to why, right Y/n?” Nodding in agreement you try to smile convincingly up at Valentino but flinched when you moved your head too fast, the cut on your neck was stinging like a bitch.

“Before we get into all of that, I don’t suppose I could borrow a shower? I’d love to get this crap off me”, you ask motioning at your blood splattered body. Plus, it would give you extra time to think up an explanation on how you ‘killed’ the sinners.  Vox chuckled at your grossed out expression you go to move but couldn’t even make a step away from Valentino as he forced your attention back on him when he waved a gold enamel gun around in front of you both.

“Not before we get names!” He snarled. Seeing how Vox’s method wasn’t exactly working in calming him down you sighed under your breath. Guess it was down to you. Where on earth was Velvette?

Grabbing the waving hand that held the gun you pulled it so it was resting on your waist next to the other one. His tinted gaze now on yours, feeling the tension in his arms you smile softly up at the Overlord. Try to work your charm y/n.

“There’s no need for names, no need for shooting or killing any one as they’re already dead, okay Valentino?” You gently explain, tugging the gun out of his grasp and quickly pulling it behind your back. Cold fingers slipped it from your grasp, spying Vox putting the gun in his jacket pocket you breath a bit easier. The main threat sorted, now to calm the hot head down more.

“They are dead. How?” He demands, glaring at Vox who had taken a seat on one of the sofa’s dotted around Velvette’s studio. Probably grumpy that he had taken his favourite toy away.

“It doesn’t matter how, just know that they are dead”. You place your hands on his that were still on your hips, giving them a squeeze to try and drive your point home.

“It does matter I wan”-

“-Perhaps now that the threat is gone, Velvette can show Y/n where she can shower and get a change of clothes before we start to question her? Hmm?” Giving Valentino your best winning smile, he hums under his breath before nodding after a few moments. You thought you were free until he dragged you close by your hips - so much so that your chest brushed against the fur of his coat. He loomed over you with a flirty expression on his face. Oh dear.

“Are you in such a hurry to leave my arms Y/n? I just know you have been enjoying it, mi cariño, perhaps we can make this a regular thing?” Blushing at feeling a certain part of him that really enjoyed me being pressed up against him a bit too much, you chuckled nervously while pushing yourself away by using both of your hands against his chest. Even if you did which you totally did but wasn’t admitting the last person you would admit that too was the flirty Overlord.  

“Whatever keeps you happy slim, but right now the one thing I am craving more than anything is a hot shower, so if you’ll excuse me”, he finally allows you to escape from his grip. A smug smirk tugged at his lips as he pulled a long cigarette from inside his coat. You could still feel the hot imprints of his hands on your hips.

Vox stopped typing on his phone when he saw you were now free from the clingy Valentino, a charming smile once more on his face as he stands up.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up my dear, you know us Vee’s are known for our perfection, and we can’t have you destroying that reputation for us now, can we?” He joked – or you hoped he was joking but maybe there was a subtle threat under that charming voice – as he showed you back towards the elevator. Pressing the button, it arrives almost immediately. Huh. Weird. Stepping inside you didn’t expect Vox to follow you in. You certainly didn’t expect when the doors shut him to turn to you with a shit-eating grin. Like he knew something that you didn’t. And you really didn’t like that.

“So tell me, how did you kill the sinners, y/n?” The hairs on the back of your neck started to stand up. He knew. Licking your bottom lip nervously you shrugged.

“Ah with a – uh - with a knife” you wanted to look away from him, he was making you more and more nervous but his gaze had you locked in. Dammit!

“Liar” you started to sweat with that one word.  You should have been more careful! You should have checked around you before you used your power. But you didn’t think. You reacted. And now one of the main people you didn’t want to know about your power knew within a week of knowing you. How had you managed to keep it a secret from basically everyone else in Hell and this damn TV Demon found out within days? A blinking from the corner of the elevator made you seethe. He’d warned you. He told you he owned most of the cameras in Pentagram City.

These are the consequences of your own actions come to bite you in the ass.

“Hell’s full of them, what is one more?” you ask, trying to distract him from the conversation. At his unamused look you guessed that didn’t work. “Are you going to show anyone?” biting your lip nervously you could see numerous ideas working through his head, he now had something to hold over your head. What would he ask in exchange for your secret?

“Now y/n do you really think I would show anyone that footage?” His shit-eating grin pissed you off to no end.

“What is it you want in exchange Vox?” You wanted to cut the bullshit and see what the cards had in store for you.

“Your loyalty, to us Vee’s”, he leant against the side of the elevator eyeing you up. Your loyalty?

“My loyalty? What does that entail?”

His grin grew menacingly – his screen glitched red for a second as his eye started to warp again. Pushing yourself back against the other wall you glared up at him, ready to start shrieking again you both were surprised by the door opening and an aggravated Velvette snarling at you both.

“The fuck happened to you?” Thank Lucifer for Velvette! Pushing off against the wall you quickly made your way off the elevator to relative safety. You nearly made it till a cold hand clutched at your wrist as you were fully out of the elevator. Peeking at the TV Demon over your shoulder his expression was much more relaxed than a moment ago, but a mischievous glint danced in his eyes.

“Enjoy your shower, Y/n. We will see you after it, we have much to discuss” he crooned at you. Smirk growing when your gaze narrowed. Yanking your wrist out of his grip you stepped away. Winking as he disappeared when the elevator doors shut you released a nervous breath. Facing the other Overlord who was eyeing you up, displeased with what she was seeing she tutted at you.

“You gotta learn to step away when things go boom babe, blood is not kind to your clothes! Come on, lets get you cleaned up”, she slips her hand into yours pulling you through a living room and into a massive bathroom. Wait … she’s not gonna clean you right?

Tag List:

@tasha-1994  @azullynxx  @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda

[silentmacabre]

IMAGINE ☁️

art donaldson x fem reader (y/n) // slow burn // foundation/universe building // gym romance // college!art // quick read (~900 words)

(a/n: I am such a sucker for reciprocated crushes and mutually nervous meet-cutes so I had to write one with stanford!art. pls let me know what you think and drop any imagine prompts you have in the comments!)

🪽

-

walking into the gym was always somewhat of an embarrassing routine. digging your id card out from the bottom of your bag as keys and coins jingle, receipts shuffling to the side. scanning the card, you offer a ginger smile to the girl behind the desk who doesn't bother to look up from her phone.

on the way to the locker room you pass the weight racks. a group of about six tall, fit boys hollering and talking amongst themselves captures your briefest attention. recognizing a few from around campus, however, only furthers your social anxiety. the first few people file past you into the yoga studio, unrolling lush mats that match their water bottles and headphones.

rushing to the locker room now you turn the corner sharply and hit something solid with a thud.

“shit! im sorry i-” he instinctively grasps your upper arms, prepared to hold you steady.

you look up, frozen from the interaction. the blonde haired boy’s expression is soft and you can’t help but notice his eyes. his pupils are wide despite the blinding fluorescents that line the gym, each iris speckled with different spots of turquoise and mahogany.

“it’s okay!” you rush to offer.

his hands relax their grip, his thumbs in delay as they trail over and then off your shoulders.

you attempt another pained smile like the one offered to the receptionist except this time it’s met with a sweet, slanted grin. his jaw hangs slack slightly, lips parted in anticipation of conversation when another boy, slightly bigger and with a mess of brown curls, turns the corner from the men’s locker room.

“art, man…” he says gruffly, slapping the boy in front of you firmly on the back with both hands. he makes no effort to move.

the taller boy enters your field of vision and his steps halt, eyebrows raised then corrected.

“oh- my bad.”

both boys stand in front of you now, obstructing your path to the girl’s room. adjusting your grip on your yoga mat you clear your throat, the weight of their gaze finally too much to bear.

“well excuse me,”

“oh! sure yeah,” the blonde boy shuffles aside, his friend slowly following suit. “…wouldn’t want to, uh- miss that,” he stutters lazily pointing at the mat under your arm. he lets out an anguished, embarrassed sigh as his friend stifles a laugh.

your eyes lock a final time, the bridge of your nose rosy and hot. as you disappear into the stillness of the girls’ room you hear the two boys speaking in hushed voices.

“who was THAT?” a voice you can only attribute to the brown haired boy asks.

“I- I don’t know. I think she’s in my math?” his voice like gravel, words spoken carefully.

“she’s bangin’, dude.”

“c’mon man…”

“what!”

this observation of you in your self described “frumpiest” state makes your ears burn, the back of your neck prickle with sweat and nerves of having been truly seen.

shoving your belongings into a locker, you collect your water and yoga mat. on your way out of the room you pause at a mirror, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

‘I guess im not too bad,’ you allow.

-

as class winds down, you lie flat on your back allowing the melodic whine of the music to rock you gently as you catch your breath. consciously loosening every muscle in your body one after the other, you open your eyes to sneak a look at the others in the class, all lost in their own moments of reflection alongside you. a series of laughs moving through the hallway causes a few of them to open their eyes but their interest quickly wanes. instead, your eyes trail out the door just as the boys from earlier make their way past. their biceps glisten with sweat and otherwise floppy hair sticks to their temples.

a particularly ragged mane of gold glues your eyes to him. his dimples are deep, his flushed lips framed by smile lines as he grins, deep in conversation. your chest rises and falls faster now, seeing him, remembering his hands fixing you in place.

before he’s out of view again, he turns to peek into the class room, eyes dancing from student to student and finally landing on you. the undeniability of your eye contact forces his head down, the beginnings of a blush dusting his cheeks just as he is out of sight.

you release a breath you hadn’t realized you held at the sight of him. he made you nervous, that much was apparent, but why?

-

leaving, the gym feels emptier without the chime of boys’ abrasive cackles. stepping out into cool autumn air, you’re about to start back to your apartment when you see it.

leaning against a fence post lost in something on his phone it’s as if he can sense you’re there. looking up, his blue eyes seem darker under the cloudy afternoon sky but the smile that pulls at his lips is profound.

“hi,”

he had waited just to see you again.

“can I walk with you?”

-

🪽

[janeykath318]

TaserBones

Fall Words: caramel, Pumpkin spice

Meet Ugly

Taserbones

It was the ugliest of meet uglies: Darcy was carrying a full drink carrier, traipsing down the street when she was sent sprawling by a big dude who brushed past her with only a muttered, insincere, “Sorry.”  Despite the pain of the hot liquid that had spilled on her, she made sure to get a good look at him, and added him to her shit list. 

“This is not how caramel and pumpkin spice were meant to be consumed!” she muttered furiously, picking herself up off the ground carefully. Jane was going to be so disappointed, but Darcy didn’t have time to go back and get replacements. It would be Grumpy Science day for them all.

When she got to the lab, Jane wasn’t at her desk. She was staring at the tv monitor, watching the news.

“Bad news, Janey!” she declared. “My coffee run was obliterated by some jackass running me down. We’ll have to settle for the keurig today.” 

Jane turned from the screen and noticed Darcy’s dripping, disheveled appearance.

“Oh my gosh, Darcy! Are you okay?”

“Other than some potential first degree burns, I’m fine,” Darcy shrugged, allowing herself to be fussed over. “I’m just mad. Who does he think he is to be running like that on a public sidewalk?”

Jane gestured toward the screen.

“The jack booted thugs have a man hunt going on right now for some escaped Hydra supporters. You might have accidentally got in the middle of that.”

Darcy paled as she watched the news update on the situation. “Yikes. I’m lucky he didn’t take me hostage or something.”

“You should really have those burns looked at,” Jane told her. “That looks worse than first degree.”

After an hour of trying to tough it out, Darcy let Jane take her to an Urgent Care. As she settled down in the waiting room, she took a quick glance around at the only other occupant—the mean looking, but hot dude who’d run her down. 

She immediately fixed what she thought was a hostile glare on her face and felt for her taser in case he was the escaped Hydra creep. Seeing the glint of a Shield badge at his waist, she relaxed her grip on it, but not her glare.

He looked at her curiously, as if trying to remember where he’d seen her, then she saw the panic hit when he recognized her.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m the innocent woman you knocked over this morning. Spilled hot coffee on myself and now I’m here.” 

She held up her burned arm. He blanched.

“Aw, hell,” he swore. “You gonna sue?”

“I might,” she said haughtily. “Shield and I have never been on the best of terms ever since they stole my friend’s work and confiscated my Ipod. I’m still bitter about that. And you wrecked my pumpkin spice latte. That’s very hard to forgive.”

“Ooh. Yeah.” 

He ran his hand through his jet black hair and squirmed in his chair. Darcy felt a twinge of satisfaction.

“Listen, I really am sorry about this morning. We’ve been chasing this guy for three years and he’s given us the slip multiple times. I was petrified I was going to lose him again.”

“Hmmph.” she grunted, unmoved. 

Before she could go off on him, the door opened and another agent limped through on crutches. She watched Shieldthug leap to his feet and gallantly assist his companion, showing an extraordinary amount of care. 

Darcy was called back to be seen and she expected that he would vanish conveniently and never be seen again, but when she’d been bandaged and instructed and went to settle up the bill, the receptionist shook her head.

“It’s all taken care of,” she smiled. “Have a nice day, Dr. Lewis.”

Confused, Darcy went back to work, mulling over the contradictions she’d seen in Mr. Careless Shieldthug. 

The next morning, Darcy and Jane received a surprising delivery: their favorite coffee orders, correct down to the last pump. A large bouquet of flowers sat on Darcy’s desk, and a thick envelope rested beside it. 

“Well, at least he’s suitably apologetic,” Jane commented, sipping on her coffee. 

Darcy didn’t register anything else while she read the note in the envelope. 

Dr. Lewis,

This is my apology for being a grade a jackass to you. At the very least I should have helped you up. My mama would be ashamed of me. I’ve seen the error of my ways and I hope you can forgive me. 

                                                             Sincerely, 

                                                                Brock 

She wondered if he’d written it with help, but it did sound sincere. Darcy looked back in the envelope and gasped when she saw a familiar item that she hadn’t laid eyes on in a decade.

“My iPod!” she gasped. “Jane, he gave me my iPod back! Also, who’s Brock?”

A couple days later, she was still trying to find out information on the mysterious Brock Rumlow. A lot of his info was redacted, and though she probably could have done some hacking, she decided it wasn’t worth getting in Federal trouble. 

“Visitor for you, Darcy!” Jane called. 

Darcy emerged from her cozy spot in the corner to find Mr. Careless Shieldthug, aka Brock Rumlow, standing in front of her. He didn’t look mean this time, rather obviously nervous. It was almost cute.

“Agent Rumlow, I presume?” she asked, trying not to notice his incredible physique. Damn, the man was ripped.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. That arm looked pretty painful.”

“It’s still sore, but it’s healing,” she told him. “But the iPod return did go a long way in winning my forgiveness, so good move. I guess I won’t sue Shield after all.”

She smirked at him, then let her eyes wander a bit. It wasn’t often such eye candy walked into their lab. Maybe she could take advantage of the opportunity. 

“That’s good to know.” Brock said. “Hill heard about it and roasted my ass like never before.”

“Good for her. Maria is awesome!” Darcy agreed. 

“You know her?”

“I had dealings with the Avengers when I was interning with Jane,” she explained. “And I got to meet a few Shield bigwigs as well. I don’t remember you, though.”

Brock looked away, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. 

“I was deeply undercover back then,” he told her. “I worked with the Avengers some, but it was pretty limited.”

“Ah,” she acknowledged. “Fury probably made you crazy.” 

“That’s the understatement of the century,” he snorted. “Funny enough, when I asked him about you, he rolled his eyes and said, “Don’t even get me started.” I knew then that I’d probably like you.”

Darcy burst out laughing. 

“Hee-Hee! I love pissing off Fury. I think maybe we can be friends, after all, Brock. Let’s start over.”

“I like the sound of that,” Brock agreed, allowing a tiny, relieved smile to appear. 

[sparkywrites25]

Mobuhan Modern au pls 🫶🏼

I am so so sorry for how late this is. So much for aiming to get things done in a few weeks. Work and life just took me away.

Summary: Moblit gets a call he never likes to receive.

Pairing: Mobuhan

Taglist: @youre-ackermine @lunar-rainclouds @4melo-dy @captain-natey

Trigger Warnings: heavy depiction of anxiety, mentions of injury and brief mention of transphobia

Notes: If you like my work and want to see more then please join my taglist. Form is pinned on my blog.

Mobilit’s attention jumped from pan to pan, brows furrowing in concentration as he examined the progress of each one. The cooked bolognese mince was sitting comfortably on a low, steady heat waiting for the rest to catch up. Next to it, the pan of spaghetti was bubbling nicely. Mobilit swiftly turned down the heat on it and addressed the final pot with the cooking broccoli in it. That too was almost finished. With a satisfied smile, he began to unload the food into large bowls ready for their placement on the dining table. 

He checked the clock. 6pm. 

Hange would be arriving home any minute. They’d assured him that they would not be pulling a late one tonight. It had been too many weeks since they’d enjoyed a meal like this together. Takeaways and ready meals had become too much of the norm for them over the last month so Mobilit had insisted on using his day off to catch up on some errands at home and cook them a meal himself. The red wine was chilling in the fridge and some hot bread sat in the air fryer nearby. 

Mobilit grinned to himself as he remembered how excitable Hange had been over the air fryer, and how much electricity they had promised they would save by using it. The actual oven had been removed from the kitchen and placed in Hange’s home lab. They had insisted that it could still form some kind of purpose for scientific advancements in their experiments. Which meant that the electricity saved wasn’t actually going to be saved, ultimately, but at least the appliance would find another use. 

Once everything was in their bowls and plates, ready to be carried to the table, Mobilit switched the appliances off and wiped up the surfaces. He was just getting the wine out of the fridge ready to pour when his phone rang. Mobilit tensed up as he placed the bottle down at once. 

Oh for god’s sakes, not again, he mentally prayed as he answered the call. It took him half a second to realize that the number wasn’t Hange’s and he exhaled in relief. 

“Hello?” he asked in a fairly cheery voice. 

“Is this Mobilit Berner?” a male voice spoke. 

“Yeah. Who is this?”

“This is Mitras General Hospital. I’m calling about your partner Hange Zoe.”

Mobilit’s stomach and appetite dropped out of him at the same time. The air was punched from his lungs and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. His vision blurred in front of him and suddenly he wasn’t sure that his legs would hold him up. His free hand scrambled for the counter and clutched onto it. 

“W-what about them? What’s happened?” he fired the questions out in a stumbling mess. His brain was already contemplating some scenarios and creating painful visuals along with it. Hange having picked an argument with the wrong person. Hange being cornered on a quiet street. Hange having experimented with too many chemicals and having an allergic reaction in their skin or something. Hange stepping out into the road at the wrong time because they were too busy thinking of ideas around whatever stumbling block they’d hit at work. Hange just simply tripping and falling into a moving bus or something. 

“Hange’s been injured in a laboratory accident at their workplace,” the receptionist - Mobilit assumed anyway - answered. “There was an explosion and-”

“Oh god!” Mobilit cried out, slumping against the counter. More images flew through his head one by one; violent images of Hange blistered, bleeding and screaming or Hange lying in hospital with missing limbs. His chest constricted and he grit his teeth to force back the cry that threatened to rip out of him. 

A vicious, violent accident had put Hange in danger and it had happened at work. Worse, this was a line of work where that sort of thing could happen. That reminder stabbed through Mobilit’s insides. This could happen again and again. This could be something he’d have to live with. What if next time Hange didn’t just get injured? What it it killed them?

“How bad is it?” he managed to get out finally. 

“They’ve suffered some superficial burns on the face and arms but those are very shallow and will heal in a week or so.” 

Mobilit bent his head, offering gratitude to whatever deity might be out there that had given Hange superficial injuries. He forced himself to focus on the receptionist once again as the man began to speak once more.

“From what we understand, they weren’t standing directly next to the chemicals when the explosion happened.” 

A small bubble of relief began to grow in Mobilit’s chest. Another mercy was granted to him, at least. Although, his brain offered in its wicked voice, the mercy wouldn’t have been down to Hange being particularly careful. They were just lucky. In another scenario, it could have gone very differently. The relief was instantly swallowed up in a wave of horror-struck imagination. 

“But still, the force of it threw them across the lab and they broke their arm.” The receptionist continued after another pause.

 Mobilit appreciated that he was delivering the news in processable chunks. Of course he probably has to do this, and worse, every day, Mobilit thought abstractedly. That must be one of the worst parts of that job; having to tell people that their loved one is dead or dying or seriously injured or ill. He tried to snatch some gratitude that at least he wasn’t being told any news that was worse. Even so, anxiety gnawed away at him and he could barely find it in him to refocus on the conversation.

“They have hit their head, though, as a result. So we’ll be monitoring that injury for a few days. However all the tests so far have come back clear.”

Mobilit tried to take the rest of this in but, primarily, he felt himself sagging closer to the floor in another wave of relief. “They’re going to be okay?” he sounded breathless and his stomach flipped over and over itself uneasily. 

“They will make a full recovery, yes. We’re keeping them in for observation and monitoring the healing process of the burns more than anything else.”

“Okay, I understand,” Mobilit scrambled to say as he ran a hand over his face. “Thanks for letting me know. Where are they?”

“They’ve been assigned a private room, number 14 on the second floor. They’re still being treated right now so you might have to wait outside,” he was advised. 

Mobilit’s mind switched off and autopilot took over. He made the remaining pleasantries with the receptionist and ended the call. He wasn’t fully aware of packing the food away into containers, making sure the appliances were switched off and giving the surfaces a last wipe. Perhaps other people might not have prioritized such things in the wake of such a call but the act of cleaning up helped to get him moving and it felt good to be doing something for now. 

Once it was all taken care of, he grabbed his phone and car keys and hurried towards the door. 

— — — — — — —

The clinical smell of the hospital made Mobilit’s throat close up. He took no comfort from the clean scents or the smiling, reassuring faces of the staff that he passed. It was all a charade to cover up the fact that people were ill here, that some of them were dying. That bones had been broken and lives had been changed, maybe forever, in this place. He walked through it all with an increasing detachment, turning his head away from the worried loved ones, sitting around in the same position that he was about to be in. He ignored the tears in some eyes and the despair that poured from their faces as they clung to their friends and family members, mourning the state of things and cursing the events that had brought them here when they could have been doing something else. When they could have been happy. 

And yet it was all imprinting on his mind, so clearly that he could have painted the scene with very little concentration on his memory. Imagining people’s pain forever painted onto canvas somewhere. But then it was there, in so many works of art. Artists didn’t shy away from such things but right now Mobilit wished that he could. 

They’re going to be fine. It’s not like they’re ill or dying. They’re gonna walk out of here in a couple of days. He had to repeat this mantra in his head as he rode the elevator to the second floor. He continued with it all the way down the hall towards the waiting area near room 14. 

Nifa, Erwin and Levi were waiting outside the room when Mobilit finally reached them. Erwin and Nifa were perched on two seats on a string of colourful plastic chairs. Levi leaned against the wall, arms folded and brow furrowed in an expression that many would mistake for anger but Mobilit knew well enough to recognize as concern. The door to the room was closed and the blinds were drawn for now. Mobilit felt his anxiety surge upward as he stared at the covered window intently. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erwin and Nifa straighten up. He turned to them and saw that Nifa’s left arm was in a cast. One side of her face was still quite red although the lack of bandages told Mobilt that at least her face wasn’t considered to be all that injured. 

She swallowed, her eyes wide and anxious as she stared into Mobilit’s face. 

“You called them,” Mobilit remarked as he approached her. 

“Yeah,” Nifa confirmed. “I’m sorry. I was nervous about calling you so the receptionist said that they would do it.”

“It’s okay, Nifa,” Mobilit placed a hand gently on her uninjured elbow. “Are you okay? You look like you took a nasty hit.” Looking over his friend was hard but it gave him something to do other than stare at the door and wait to be allowed to see Hange. 

“I’m fine,” Nifa assured him. “I was further away from the explosion. I just fell badly.”

Mobilit nodded. Anxiety continued to grow inside his stomach like one of those elastic band balls that people built when they were bored and it, ultimately, grew to be quite weighty. It brought an increasing feeling of nausea with it too. “What happened exactly, Nifa? Hange said that they weren’t staying late today.”

The subject chased some of the anxiety out of Nifa’s expression and her brow furrowed in instant focus. 

“It was just after four,” Nifa recalled, “and Hange said they were gonna finish early so we didn’t start any new testing after 3pm. We were just waiting on this last concoction to finish boiling so we could test its effectiveness after being heated. But something must have gone wrong with the glass. The liquid must have spilled somehow. Maybe it splashed out of the glass. It’s hard to know for sure because the explosion took a lot of equipment out when it happened.” She tucked some hair behind her ear and stared down at the ground. 

Erwin stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Take your time. The CCTV will determine what happened soon enough.”

“Yeah,” Nifa agreed, a miserable expression filling her face now. “I just wish I could have seen it. I could have stopped it.”

“If Hange had seen it, they would have removed it from the danger area,” Erwin comforted her. “It sounds like it was just one of those things. You can’t always predict them.”

“I’m sure this wasn’t your fault, Nifa,” Mobilit gently took her uninjured elbow in his hands. “They said Hange has some facial burns,” he said after a pause. “Did they notice something before it happened? Were they going to check on it?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Nifa answered. “They weren’t expecting it to be ready yet. They were just cleaning up another table while they were waiting.”

“Huh. Hange was cleaning.” Levi scoffed from behind Erwin. 

Nifa smiled. “They were bored. Normally we’d have another testing on the go at the same time. They had some time to kill.”

“And some germs, apparently,” Levi quipped. 

“So Hange wasn’t trying to go near it,” Mobilit sought out confirmation, gazing intently at Nifa who nodded. But it was Erwin who spoke next. 

“Perhaps you could leave any further questions until later, Mobilit. There’s not much more to learn about how this happened.”

Mobilit nodded and squeezed Nifa’s arm gently. “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry. Nifa,” he said in a quiet but sincerely apologetic murmur. “I really am. I just… I guess I just want to try and picture what happened. I just keep imagining-” he cut off his sentence and pulled back. 

“Don’t go there,” Erwin recommended in a gentler tone. “Hange will be fine. They were lucky.”

“Yeah,” Nifa said encouragingly. “The lab will look at the CCTV and see what exactly started it. Once they tell us, we can take even more precautions.” She smiled into Mobilit’s worried eyes. “I know Hange’s really passionate about their work but we both know that they do take precautions too. We just need to do a few more next time we look at that test. We’ll figure it out and, at least for now, Hange will have to take things easier.”

“You both should,” Levi had moved over to join them. “You and Shitty Glasses are always working too hard. I’m surprised Rico isn’t here already.”

Suddenly Nifa’s eyes ballooned and Mobilit stared into the redhead’s guilty face. A chuckle rose out of his throat despite the circumstances. “You haven’t told Rico,”  he said.

“No… I was too preoccupied with calling people about Hange,” Nifa said biting her lip. She sighed and squared her shoulders. “I’m gonna do it now. Hopefully she won’t freak,” she added as she pulled out her phone and went to take a seat. Mobilit watched her type in a number and then hold the phone to her ears. 

“If Hange’s missed any safety precautions and Rico gets wind of that,” Levi mused, folding his arms, “then Hange’s gonna be in the right place.”

“Levi,” Erwin chided. 

He returned to his seat, beckoning for Mobilit to join him but the shorter man shook his head, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. The nerves and the knowledge that Hange was behind the door receiving treatment, that they were so injured, had bubbled up again during his conversation with the others. Now there was that sinking, overwhelming feeling again, like not being able to tread water. He took a few deep breaths and turned away from the door. 

Levi took his arm. It wasn’t a terribly firm hold but the way Levi’s fingers dug in suggested that he might press harder if Mobilit were to try and throw him off. “Hey,” he told Mobilit. “Breathe. They’re going to be fine.” 

Mobilit tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. “I know,” he mused. “It’s just that… I forget how dangerous this job can be for them.”

“That’s true but it’s also what Hange is good at,” Levi reasoned. “They got unlucky today but they have made significant advancements in medication thanks to their experiments,” he reminded Mobilit. “You’ve been a part of them all so you know. Those tablets that cut Covid down by a few days? The syrup that takes care of the flu within 48 hours? These all came from your partner’s brain and skill.”

“Levi’s right,” Erwin added. “It’s dangerous work but in Hange’s hands it’s also successful work.”

Mobilit nodded, slumping a little as he began to slowly pace in front of Hange’s room. “Yeah… I do understand that,” he said quietly. He understood it very well. He worked with them on this. He knew how passionate they felt about their work and how valuable they were. He didn’t want to be that guy that demanded Hange chose between him and their work. If he was 100% honest with himself, he wasn’t sure Hange would be able to turn their back on something that was such a huge aspect of their life. Asking them to do that would only end up breeding resentment anyway even if they did do it. 

Besides, he loved their passion and their ideas and that completely chaotic drive to do some good in the world. As he considered this, a slight smile played on his lips. Hange wouldn’t be Hange without their love of experiments and seeking out knowledge. They were born to do this sort of thing, to be bold enough to chase down those possibilities. 

It just meant that he had to keep reminding himself that Hange was walking - no, let’s be honest, they were skipping - down a dangerous road. He had always known this from the moment they had chosen to become more than friends. No one could say that he didn’t know the risks. Ugh, just get it together, Mobilit kicked himself mentally. They’re gonna be fine. The receptionist told you that. It’s nothing too serious. Yet, even while he tried to remind himself of that, another voice, one far nastier, began to speak up. 

What if it happens again? What if next time you’re not so lucky? What if next time, they’re not giving you a list of whatever meds they’ll need but a death certificate. 

Mobilit stopped pacing at once. The idea was so horrific and yet so painfully plausible. The thought made him feel viciously sick and he pursed his lips, convinced that he might actually throw up with the bubbling fear that was shooting up his throat right now. He looked up and along the corridor, quickly spotting the doorway to a bathroom. He broke into a fast walk, making a beeline for it.

“Mobilit!” He heard Erwin call after him but he was too occupied to pay him much attention.

— — — — — — —

When he emerged from the toilet stall, Erwin was waiting by the sink. Mobilit washed his face and the cool water helped to ground his uneasy levels of anxiety. He threw more water over his skin, chasing the comforting sensation. 

After a moment, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He flinched instantly.

“Just breathe,” Erwin told him.

Mobilit stared up at him. He hadn’t even seen that the man was in here with him. The fact that he hadn’t even noticed Erwin was somewhat surprising considering the man’s size. However, it didn’t entirely surprise him that the man could keep himself out of anyone’s focus if he so pleased. It was kind of a terrifying skill to have but not one Mobilit wanted to dwell on right now. 

 “Just one breath at a time. Don’t think. Just breathe.” Erwin advised. He inhaled deeply himself, gesturing for Mobilit to mimic him. 

Mobilit did so, taking in a deep breath of air and held it in for a moment before copying Erwin’s exhale. They did that together a few more times before Mobilit began to feel the overwhelming feeling begin to settle. Clarity returned to him gradually as well.

“Feeling calmer?” Erwin asked and Mobilit nodded. 

“Thanks.”

“No worries,” Erwin said. “I figured you’d want to calm yourself down before you go in and see Hange.”

Mobilit straightened up. “Can I go in now?”

“Yes, a doctor came out just as you left. Levi is speaking to him now. I’m sure he’s asking about the cleanliness of the room and the quality of the supplies in relation to whatever budget the hospital has,” Erwin answered. He spoke the last part with a smile that eased Mobilit a little. 

“I guess the doctor won’t be hanging around then,” he managed to joke feebly. 

“No, I shouldn’t think so,” Erwin smiled. “But Levi can tell us what he said anyway.”

“Yeah. I just really need to see Hange right now.” Mobilit said.

“Of course,” Erwin gestured for him to exit the bathroom ahead of him, “just try and stay calm. Remember, they weren’t too badly hurt. They’re going to be okay.”

Mobilit tried to focus on that as he left the bathroom and stepped out into the corridor again. He began the walk towards Hange’s door, a walk that felt so long the more he thought about it. He was about to see Hange and see for himself that they were okay. Why wasn’t he excited about it? Why did his stomach feel like it was going to empty itself? Why did his legs feel this wobbly? It wasn’t the first time Hange had been hurt and - while he hated to think it - it probably wouldn’t be the last. He just needed to get used to it. 

Levi was waiting outside the door, noticeably alone, leaning against the wall. Nifa was sat near him, still on the phone to Rico. Levi eyed Mobilit thoughtfully as he approached. “I hope you cleaned up in there,” he muttered although the words had none of their usual harshness. 

It was enough for Mobilit to crack a smile. “Of course I did.” 

Levi nodded to the door. “We’ll wait out here,” he said. He then looked to Nifa. “Or we can take her for some tea. It sounds like Rico isn’t too happy,” he mused. 

Mobilit glanced over to Nifa who was grimacing and speaking her quickly and lovingly down the phone. “Can’t say I blame her,” he remarked. “Nifa could have been a lot worse as well.” 

At last, he returned his attention to the door of Hange’s room and pushed at it, stepping inside. 

— — — — — — —

Well, this bites, Hange huffed to themself as they stared out of the window with their uncovered eye. 

Not that the other eye was missing much outside of the glass. It wasn’t even a good view. All they could see were constant columns of grey corporate building, their windows plastered with colourful posters promoting the usual lies and propaganda of billion dollar companies that were destroying the planet one office at a time. Hange’s fists clenched in the bedsheets for a moment as they gritted their teeth. Instantly half of their facial muscles twinged and they eased up on the expression instantly. 

That’s going to be a pain. Hange acknowledged. Being an emotionally expressive person and having half of their face being sore and tender for a week or so were not going to be friendly bedfellows. They looked down at the menu list for dinner soon and sighed. 

I was supposed to be having dinner with Moblit tonight. He was making his spaghetti bolognese. I love his spaghetti. That man is an artist in the kitchen too. Instead, I’m gonna be stuck here eating whatever processed crap they serve up. With a heavy sigh, they leaned back against the pillows and ran a hand down the uninjured side of their face. They’ll have called him by now. He’s gonna freak. I promised him I wouldn’t be late. It’s his day off too. Who wants to spend that in here?

They’d been careful today. So fucking careful. It had been too long since they had had a date night and almost as long since they’d last eaten Mobilit’s cooking. It was the nature of Hange’s job that things tended to get intense and all-consuming very quickly. Anything else tended to take a back seat. But they and Mobilit had recognized that. They’d made plans to take time for themselves. All through the day Hange had kept her mind on how long things would take to finish and what they could do instead to fill up the hours before leaving early that wouldn’t involve starting a new test. It was all supposed to be straight forward and that stupid explosion had fucked things up for them. 

I’m amazed that he doesn’t lose patience with me. Hange reflected as they tapped their fingers on the table hovering over their legs. But then that was Mobilit. He’d been by their side, putting up with a lot of shit for years now. 

The door opened again and Hange’s attention whipped towards it just as Mobilit stepped inside and closed the door. They beamed at him and waved with one hand. That was another thing that would be hell to get used to. Managing with a broken arm. They already missed their double wave. 

“Mobilit,” they greeted softly with a smile that disappeared as soon as Hange saw their boyfriend’s eyes. 

They were glassy and filled with so much pain and fear that any confident, quirky quip that Hange might have conjured instantly died in their mouth. Their own face tightened with immediate guilt. I did this to him. Worrying about me again has done this. 

His shoulders were trembling, not a great deal but enough for them to notice. They watched as Mobilit’s eyes roamed over their injuries, lingering briefly on their face before dropping to take in the sling that currently held Hange’s left arm. With every second, the anxiety seemed to bloom more across his features. Hange saw his fists clench and his jaw tighten. They recognised those signs instantly. 

“This isn’t something you could have prevented,” Hange told him in as calm a voice as they could manage. “It was just an accident, Mobilit. I’m gonna be fine.”

“Just an accident?” Mobilit repeated, his voice cracking. “Are you being serious?”

It had been the wrong thing to say and Hange grimaced. “I’m not playing it down.”

“Yes you are,” the retort that came back so quickly was angry and it surprised Hange. Mobilit’s chest was starting to heave. “Yes, you are,” he repeated. “It happened and it’s a big deal, Hange.” Their boyfriend stepped forward, grabbing the nearest plastic blue seat and pulling it towards the side of their bed. The left side, Hange noted, closest to their heart. It was sweet and they wanted to smile but right now, faced with Mobilit’s anger, Hange forced that smile back for the time being. “You’re about to tell me that it could have been worse, right?” he asked and the pain in his voice was evident. 

“Yeah,” Hange admitted. “I’d rather focus on the fact that it wasn’t. I was lucky.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Another crack in Mobilit’s voice. “I have to think that we’re lucky because you only ended up here with a broken arm and some burns? That’s not lucky, Hange. That’s you being hurt!” he snapped. Tears shone in his eyes. “You being hurt is never lucky.”

Hange itched to reach out to him but he was sitting on their injured side. “Okay that was a bad choice of words-”

“Hange!” Mobilit’s voice came out as a dry sob. “Just stop! Stop trying to make this okay! It’s not okay!” He bowed his head and clasped his hands over his face. “God, this is not okay, Hange. It’s not.” His shoulders shook and Hange’s heart broke a little for him. 

Hange couldn’t remember ever having seen Mobilit this anxious before. He always worried so much about their welfare and their safety. Things that, admittedly, were not high on Hange’s list of priorities and they never really had been. Such things took up too much room in their head that could be better filled with ideas and possibilities and combinations. 

Hange had been that kid experimenting with dangerous stunts or homemade scientific concoctions as a child. They had had their fair share of hospital visits back then too. Even then, they hadn’t been terribly afraid of the pain or the healing although it had certainly been inconvenient for their relentless curiosity and determination to explore and investigate. It was just normal for them to handle things this way. Their parents had been worried about it at the time, back when they had been someone her parents could approve of. Back when they had accepted them as their child. They had supported Hange’s curiosities and strong scientific mind and forgave the occasional hospital visits. 

It was just their gender identity, that they couldn’t forgive. Their so-called “decision” to be different. Their ultimate rejection had been a lesson in being careful who to trust, after that. Hange was lucky in that they had accepting friends to help them through it. They had moved in with Erwin and Levi for a while as soon as they left home at 17. A year later, Erwin had introduced them to Mobilit. Life had transformed for the better since leaving that house. 

Mobilit had shown concern about the risks of Hange’s experiments and their tendency to overlook the risks right from the beginning. Hange liked to call him their worrier. He worried so they didn’t have to. But seeing him now, guilt churned away inside their stomach. How much of that worrying had stayed inside Mobilit eating away at him?

“I’m sorry,” Hange reached out their uninjured hand and smiled when Mobilit slid his into it. “I’m sorry,” they said again. “I know this isn’t okay. How much you worry.” They stroked the backs of his fingers with their thumb gently. “I’m just trying to focus on the positives. It could have been a lot worse and I’m grateful that it wasn’t.”

“Me too,” Mobilit mumbled. “I am. It’s just that it could have gone the other way so easily, Hange.” 

“Mobilit,” Hange kept their voice gentle as they squeezed his hand. “Thoughts like that don’t help. If we worry about what could happen, we’d never live our lives. You could go to the store tomorrow and get hit by a bus,” they explain. “We could take a vacation and get scammed out of all our money. We could get sick. Our house could burn down.” They exhaled gently. “It’s a rabbit hole but you can’t go down it. Look at what it’s doing to you.”

Hange lifted Mobilit’s hand to kiss it. “How long have you been holding back your worries, Mobilit?” they questioned. 

Mobilit lifted his face to theirs with a confused frown. “Since I got that call this afternoon.” His brows furrowed deeper. “How did you expect me to react? Am I just supposed to shrug it off now? To be used to you getting hurt?”

His partner shook their head. “No. I’m not saying that. But Mobilit, this feels like it’s been going on longer. You sound like you’ve been carrying this for a while.” 

Mobilit’s eyes shifted away from theirs and his frown deepened. “I… I always have to worry because you don’t,” he mumbled. “Someone has to.” One of his hands lifted to run through his hair, his eyes squeezing shut with obvious frustration. His shoulders sagged even lower and Hange’s heart went out to him. This was the worst they had ever seen him react to one of their accidents at work. Some of it had to be build up from previous concerns. They had been injured worse than this before. 

“Do they?” Hange asked. They kissed his fingers again. “Caring and concern are one thing but this… Mobilit, this is anxiety and it’s not healthy for you.”

Their boyfriend stared at them for a moment or two, blinking slowly. “Really?” he asked. “Really?! You’re lecturing me on what’s not healthy from a hospital bed? Because it’s so healthy to disregard your own safety.” Mobilit’s sheer disbelief seemed to chase a great deal of the anxiety from his face for the moment. Hange welcomed that distraction for however long it lasted. Seeing some of the pain leaving his face was a very good thing. 

Hange’s lips twitched into a smile. 

Mobilit stared at them like that for a moment before a small smile began to take over. “You’re unbelievable,” he mused softly. “You’re really something else, you know?” He lifted his hand and brought theirs to his lips softly. He exhaled again, this time releasing a weak laugh with it. “You’re such a pain,” he joked. 

Hange smiled wider this time. “Yes but I’m your pain.” 

“Yes you are,” Mobilit’s smile was growing as well. “Although I could very much live without these trips to hospital, you know?” He pointed out, cupping their hand in both of his. “And we both have much better ways of spending our time, don’t you think?” He sighed, his features relaxing more although some of the anxiety still lingered in his eyes. “So, if you could very kindly spare just a little of that massive brain of yours into taking more care,” he suggested and heaved a dramatic sigh, “I’d really appreciate it very much.”

Hange nodded emphatically. “I’ll try and be more careful, Mobilit,” they assured him. “I promise.”

“Good.” Mobilit leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bed. He eyed the bandages over half of Hange’s face and lifted their hand for another kiss. “I really wanna kiss you but I guess your hand will have to do for now,” he remarked. 

“I wish you could,” Hange complained quietly. “My face is stupid sensitive right now.”

“At least the burns aren’t too bad, so the doctors say,” Mobilit answered. 

“Yeah they’re just enough to be a pain but they won’t leave lasting damage,” Hange told him. “Not gonna lie. A few burns might have given me more of a badass edge in the science department but ah well, I can live without it.”

Mobilit bowed his head, releasing a laugh of mingled amusement and exasperation. “You’re a freaking maniac.”

Hange grinned and then winced at the pain in their cheek at the movement of their mouth. “Yeah well, you still love me right?”

“Of course I love you,” Mobilit stroked their hand in his. “I’m never gonna stop loving you.”

“And I love you,” Hange’s smile softened, easing the pain in their cheek. “I promise to be more careful. And at least we can take some positives from this.”

“Yeah?” 

“I’m gonna be home for a little while now thanks to this stupid thing.” Hange gestured to their sling. “So I hope you’re prepared for me to drive you a little crazy.” 

“Hange,” Mobilit laughed a truly happy sound, “you already drive me a LOT crazy. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[blueroses789]

I wish I could be stronger

Warnings: 

Mental health issues

Smut 

Angst

Domestic violence

next chapter: Over the edge

Chapter 19/?

Frenzy: Chapter 19

You had woken up in the middle of the night. Almost immediately your body started to shake with superseded emotion. Desperately you reached for the water. It cooled your throat but only helped slightly. Slipping out of bed you went to the window. The street was completely dark. Seeing it was 3:30 am, you tiptoed back to bed. Laying there, you hoped you might sleep. It didn’t come. All you could do was toss and turn until it was unbearable. Cold feet padded the floor. Nervously you passed anxiety spiking. You plugged in the electric kettle. It lit up and you watched the water boil away. It was hot and furious. Just as you felt. Weirdly, it soothed you. If only you could rage and storm, maybe things would be better.

Everything was heavy on your chest.

Your mother Father Eren Mikasa Ymir

More and more names. Each with their own weight in pain. That was when your phone rang.

“What do you mean she’s at the hospital?” Those were the first words you said. It was someone working at the emergency center. All you had been told was that she had a heart attack, and was in intensive care. Forgetting the kettle, you quickly dressed. It was only when outside that you realized there wasn’t a way to get there. So you ran.

Your throat felt like it was bleeding. Every gasp ached. When the hospital lights appeared over the horizon you could have cried with relief. It was busy. Paramedics and patients going back and forth. You walked up to the desk. “Here to see a family member?” The receptionist probably saw people like you every day. Desperate and scared. “M/n L/n. I’m her daughter.” She called over a nurse who took charge. “Right this way.” You followed her, prepared for the worst.

She lay on the bed, as still as a corpse. You let out a sigh of relief. Despite being still, you could tell she was alive. Only sleeping peacefully. The monitor showed a steady heartbeat. “When did it happen?” “Yesterday. Your mother woke up a few hours ago and told us to call you.” “Does my father know.” “I don’t believe so. Is he in her contacts.” “Yeh. I’ll tell him later.” “Are you sure? We can-” “They’re divorced.” Immediately she fell silent. You felt guilty for snapping at her like that. But at that moment your anger had suddenly spiked. The two of you were left alone. You sat down. For the first time in years, you paid attention to your mother's features. She was so thin. Not a natural type of thin, but the type where you’ve been sick for a long time. It was purely on instinct. You had reached for her hand. Shocked, you felt the bones on her frail fingers. Tentatively, your hands reached out for hers. It was just the two of you alone in a room. When was the last time the two of you had been like this? Certainly not since the divorce. You sat in silence for a while. Until the phone rang.

At first, you thought it was yours. But the notifications were completely blank. You realized it was your mother's instead, her clothes on a chair nearby. You walked over and picked it up. It took you several moments to truly process what you had just read.

F/n: M/n pick up right now.

F/n: If you don’t pick up right fucking now I’m gonna come over there.

F/n: Do you really want to face the consequences? Just because we’re not married doesn't mean I tolerate disrespect.

Several missed calls showed up. “What the fuck.” Your mouth barely moved, eyes bulging so much they hurt. What the actual fuck had you just read?! You knew your father could be rough but this was insane. Wanting to know more, yet dreading it all the same, you unlocked the phone. Every scroll through the chat between mom and dad became worse and worse. M/n: I’m really sorry but I can’t make it

F/n: Again with a damn excuses M/n: I just need rest. Please F/n: Go fuck yourself

You seriously wanted to puck. Was that why your mother was here now? You continued scrolling through the messages. Going further down only made it worse.

F/n: I have hardly spent time alone with Y/n. Just because your her mother does not mean you have to be there every time! M/n: I don’t mean to intrude F/n: Then don’t. I don’t need to do this picnic. You come and I will never do something like this for Y/n again.

You looked to the date of that particular text, June seventh. Bile rose in your throat, that was the picnic your father had planned. M/n was supposed to come. When she didn’t you had been horribly hurt. That had been the last time you reached out to her. Looking back, you fathers reaction was odd. He told you to leave it be and he would talk to her. All this time you had resented your mother when it wasn’t her fault. How many other times had you blamed her for something that was your fathers doing? You took a screenshot and sent it to yourself.

F/n had a lot to answer for.

Tag list:  

@jaegersdiary

@didiyogo    

@jeagersruletheworld

@maya3km  

@casinorose  

@erenjaegerwifee

[emmalee-olive]

I saw a girl who’s instagram I frequently indulge in. A friend of a friend. A girl I have never personally conversed with but her life is one I aspire to have. At least in the realm of instagram stories. Her life seems to be littered with fortune. Beautiful clear skin, models, remains consistent and anonymous in her demeanor. 

She has mastered the art of being one dimensional. A thing I could only dream of doing. Flattening myself time and time again has proved to be a useless endeavor that leads to the flattening of all other aspects of my life. One could assume it is one’s uniqueness that gives them peace of mind. This is farther from the truth and in fact requires an intense and rigorous amount of brain-training. The concentrated removal of shame from one’s thoughts. 

While this seems like a dig at her, it of course, is not. I am envious. I imagine that when you get to know her she becomes more fleshed out, I’m sure her beauty is found deeper than the surface. I bet she would lend you a dollar, or listen to a story. I bet she loves to pet the cats she posts on her stories. 

I understand as an adult that her instagram story archive is not an extensive study of herself. I understand it is a curated beautiful combination of photos that she wanted to present herself as. 

I also understand that I could do this myself. I did for a time. My life as of right now lacks beauty. It lacks fortune. I cannot subtly post about my beautiful apartment, I live with my mother. I can’t post about my picturesque job, I’m a receptionist. 

You only need to consider my last observation to make a conclusion. And that is that my obsession with her is a reflection of my insecurities. OF COURSE!!! The judgement you pass on others is the judgement you fear will be passed to you. What an original observation. 

this is not an original observation. It is a lesson learned from a study of one’s self. All young girls must at one point realize this about their judgement. It is a creature outside of themselves that feeds on their own thoughts. A hungry beast which thrives on naivety. 

Only recently have I sat down with this beast and questioned its motives. Now it is a background train of thought as I move through my day. 

Now that I have maintained my beast a reasonable amount I focus on bigger things like the joy of being alive, the gift of breath. The gift of a hot americano to stay. 

Its not easy to sit and say that I have found joy in mundane, that I have found joy in general. I have found only a glimpse. I have yet to truly move in the direction I think will make me happy. Although I understand that change is imminent and I will be shown a new path very shortly, I also understand that I am afraid to step back into the dark. Back into the space which holds these beasts. 

The dark is the unknown it is not that my future has ensured pain, it does, maybe not at the degree to which I experienced it previously, but it will have pain. It is that I must understand that there will also be joy, I am not totally stagnant. we grow in ways outside of the linear fashion. We grow exponentially, we grow in cubes, we grow in cos or sin. 

I know stepping back into this darkness of the unknown, that I will once again see a glimpse of joy, of hope. I must take a risk, a leap of faith and trust that fortune will be found in areas where it is meant to be found. 

As for this girl and her instagram, I wonder what she finds joy in. I wonder if maybe she recognized me as well. I wonder how hard it is for her to keep a straight face as she makes eye contact with others. Maybe it’s not a conscious act. Maybe it is. I find coldness in first impressions absurd and I find the absurd to be a beautiful fact of life which drives us towards a triumphant end. 

To hope and to all the things in between. 

[chinahatbeach]

Thoughts for Today

Happy Wednesday! Middle of the week and it’s been a strange week for sure. I have a bunch of topics on my mind, so here goes.

In all my 60 years of living, I never, ever thought people would be offended by so many things. I have lived thru times where I should have been offended but I pushed thru whatever or whomever pushed my buttons. Now, people have rights and you must kiss their boo boo’s and not do whatever you did or say to make them sad.

It started with syrup being racist and wrong. Butter came along next. The list goes on…… And now, we have a man who believes he’s a woman on a beer can. Can I set the record straight here…..? Being a woman is not for the faint of heart.

Women go thru a lot of hardship. First, we go into our teen years and have body issues. We grow boobs, start our periods, bloat, ache, and have a nasty attitude. Some of us cry due to the body changes and the month visit from Aunt Flo.

Then we get older, meet a guy, get married, and start a family. Oh, that brings more body pain and the feeling of not enjoying the look of being pregnant. Yes, I wasn’t happy trying to waddle like a duck with all that weight upfront. My boobs hurt, my back hurt, and once again, emotions over the board.

Get thru those years and find out about menopause. Oh, it can be similar to the teenage years but with more anger and really upset with hot flashes that push you to the limit.

I am have crossed the menopause bridge and I now just have a snarky attitude to men who want to be women and tell us that having a period is wonderful. I have a cast iron fry pan for your face, you twatwaffle. I have earned my wrinkles and attitude due to life happening to me. You, dear man, will never push a baby out of your ____________ and know the pain involved.

I pray that the beer company loses money by the tons. Fact is, we need to boycott more and more businesses and use our money for small business. Screw corporate America. So over big businesses.

That brings me to Fred Meyers. They will no longer send out weekly ads. It’s all going digital. Well, thank you for that…… NOT. I only shop for sale items at Fred Meyers or Safeway. I shall drive across the hill to Winco, a business run by their employees. Their prices are better and I can save my money. I’ve learned how to safe money by shopping sales and in the past, using coupons. But corporate businesses are greedy. I only buy certain items at Costco (liver treats for the dogs, cat litter, whipping cream). I also buy my clothes at second hand stores.

It looks like I need to take Winkie into the vet again. The nagging cough is still there but not as bad. The vet clinics also have gone to being corporate run businesses and it makes it hard to get an appointment. Vets do not want to come out to rural areas. They rather stay in the big city. (I heard the receptionist tell a client this).

Time to make the bacon and get going on chores before I need to go to work.

I hope you have a wonderful day……

And that’s the way it is……..

[fayes-fics]

Tattoo

Pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Modern AU, Benedict goes for his first tattoo.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, vaginal sex. Mentions of tattooing, needles but detail is intentionally vague.

Word Count: 4.8k (oops…)

Authors Note: This is for @amillcitygirl who sent the image above as a fic idea. Enjoy lady! <3 Thanks as ever to @makaylan for a beta read. Full disclosure - I don’t have any tattoos. I did a little research into rules/licensing for tattoos in UK and chatted briefly to a friend who is heavily inked, to gather info. But still l don’t claim accuracy about the process - she was also tattooed in France, which may be different to UK/US. Please forgive any inaccuracies and the latitude as, well, this is just a silly fic.

It’s another warm summer afternoon in Brighton, and if you have to turn away one more giggling teenager tumbling into your shop and asking for some hideous cartoon character, you might scream. You sit listlessly in front of a fan, and as you hear the bell signalling the door opening, you almost wish you were closed for the day.

“How can I help you?” Your words almost die in your mouth at the man before you. He’s beautiful. 

“I’m umm looking to get a tattoo,” he frowns, realising he’s stating the obvious.

“Well, you’re in the right place,” you chime with a smile. His responding grin does strange things to your insides. “Do you have an idea of what you might like? We have books of designs and on the walls,” you gesture.

“I was hoping for something more original, actually,” he admits and reaches into his pocket, unfolding a piece of paper and placing it on the glass counter between you.

You look at the design and are captured by the beautiful sweeping lines. It’s abstract art but also looks like an ancient language symbol.

“This is stunning,” you confess, “where did you find this?”

“Umm, it’s an original; I drew it,” he answers bashful.

You look up at him, surprised, “You’re an artist?”

“I… dabble,” he demures.

Oh, he’s just lovely.

You smile at him. “I’m sure this is possible; it might take a couple of hours. Are you around for a little while?”

“I can be,” he smiles.

“Then when do you want to start? I can fit you in now, or you can come back when convenient?”

“You? I thought you might just be the….”

“Receptionist?” You supply with a pointed eyebrow raise.

“I’m so sorry. It wasn’t meant as an insult; I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen a tattoo artist without tattoos themselves,” he rushes out as an apology; it’s sincere and sweet. 

You can’t help but smile. “That’s okay; it’s an honest mistake. And you’re wrong.”

He furrows his brow with a slight head tilt, questioning.

“I am inked. Just not anywhere you can see,” your voice unintentionally husky.

You watch as his gaze slips over your body briefly as if trying to guess where then back to your face. Oh, that was hot. The temptation to rejoinder with ‘would you like to see it?’ burns on your tongue. Dear god, what is it about this man?

“Will this be your first tattoo, or do you have others?” You ask, trying to focus.

“My first,” he admits, “will… will it hurt?”

“Difficult to say. It all depends on location and your pain threshold; it’s different for everyone. Where are you thinking of for this?”

He pulls aside the neckline of his t-shirt slightly. “Sort of here,” he gestures at his upper pectoral muscle, “with the sweeping point going up my neck slightly.”

“That area could be slightly painful, but I’m sure you are brave,” you have no idea why, but you wink. Momentarily horrified by your lack of professionalism, you go to apologise until you see his reaction.

He bites his lip, looks down briefly, and then looks up at you between his lashes with a shy smile. “I’m sure I can take it. From you.”

Something slides down your spine, and your mind flashes an image of you riding him as he lays in your tattoo chair, his fingers tracing the lines of your private inkwork. 

Fucking hell. 

“Uh. You’ll need to sign this consent form before I can start,” you say, shaking your head lightly to rid yourself of that image and handing him the form and pen.

He doesn’t even bother to read; he just signs quickly and slides it back to you, looking expectant.

“Ok... Please come through,” you gesture towards the door to your tattoo studio, wanting desperately to tamp down your errant thoughts. 

He rounds the counter and follows you.

“Please take a seat,” you gesture to the tattoo chair, closing the door as he sits down.

“I will leave the room while you remove your t-shirt”, you offer as you wash your hands. There are towels over there should you wish to cover up anywhere that isn’t the tattoo site,” you gesture.

“No need,” he breezes and whips off his t-shirt before you’ve had the chance to turn away.

You’ve tattooed plenty of fit bodies in your time without blinking an eye, but somehow, this one undoes you. From your vantage point above his head, you can see down the plains of his lean and sculpted body, and your fingers twitch, wanting so bad to trace the defined lines of his musculature. He is very much your type of thing. 

“All ok?” He asks, tilting his head back slightly to look at you. There’s a little smirk on his face.

“Yes, sorry,” you shake your head and open the paper design.

“Is this the actual size you want or just a representation?” You query, grabbing a pair of gloves and a marker to start outlining.

“Actual size,” he confirms as you wheel your stool over. 

“Do you mind if I…?” You rest the piece of paper on his chest as a reference.

“Not at all,” he says genially as you draw closer, your knees under the chair and hunching over his shoulder. 

He closes his eyes and breathes gently as you start to draw freehand lines to match his work. It takes a few moments, but you enter your zen space where the rest of the world melts away. As you go to draw the section that traces up his neck, you watch his Adam's apple bob slightly as he moves his jaw away from you. He has beautiful lines; you want to nuzzle his neck and trace over his cheek and nose.

Dear god, get it together, woman.

“I never asked your name,” you say quietly, realising you didn’t even glance at the form he signed, “I should probably add your information into our system before you leave today. Phone number, name etc., so we can trace you if any follow-up is needed.”

His eyes open, and you are struck by the hazy colour - they are captivating up close. 

“I'm Ben,” he replies, “and if you tell me your number, I can text you mine right now.” He says, fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket without looking. The tone is not particularly flirtatious, more friendly than anything, but you’re still taken aback.

“I'm not in the habit of giving my personal mobile to people,” you respond cautiously, “the shop has a number you can call”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Most people seem to do business via their mobiles these days, so I just…. It was presumptuous of me, my apologies,” he mumbles and places his phone on his bare stomach. 

You find yourself staring at his phone briefly and chewing your lip before you go back to tracing the shape onto his skin. 

You lean over to concentrate on one particular intricate section, and now you can smell his skin. He's not wearing cologne, but it's a clean soap smell and, well, just a human male scent you haven't been around for ages. Your tongue swells in your mouth, and you have to fight the urge to lean a few more inches over and just lick a line across his collarbone.

You hear him inhale slightly, then turn his head towards you. “Why do I smell mangoes?” he asks, almost absent-minded.

“Sorry, that's my hair conditioner,” you brush a strand behind your ear and move away slightly on instinct.

“I wasn't complaining,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes meet for a moment, and you stop tracing. You feel your pulse on your lips; it's an odd sensation, so you have to break the eye contact.

“If you don't mind me asking, how many tattoos do you have?” he asks after a pause as you go back to work.

“One. But it wraps around my body,” you answer honestly.

“Oh wow,” he exhales, “where?”

“Around my hips and goes down my thigh,” you respond, not thinking much about it until he inhales at your description. 

“That sounds…. unique,” he opines quietly, but it's not a judgement, more curiosity.

“It is. It's a vine. It's for my family. We own a vineyard in France. I grew up tending the vines, and I miss it so much when I'm not there. I wanted a physical reminder on my body where I come from, my literal roots. So it doesn't matter where I am in the world; I am always home.” You have no idea why you are suddenly confessing this to a stranger. 

He is staring at you now, close up, his face moved, so it's almost under yours. “May I see it?” he requests, his voice soft.

For some reason, you want to show him. So wordlessly, you wheel back your stool and stand up near the middle of the chair, unbuttoning the top of your jeans so you can pull down the waistband and show a section over your hipbone. 

“That is beautiful,” he whispers, and suddenly light fingertips are tracing over your skin. It's a tingling fire that shoots straight down into your underwear. The sensation makes you lose grip on the marker pen, and the clatter of it hitting the floor breaks the spell. “Oh gosh, I am so sorry,” he mumbles and withdraws his hand suddenly, his cheeks colouring.

You pick up the marker, rebutton your jeans and sit down, wheeling back into place. “I'm not sure why I did that,” you mutter, as much to yourself as him.

“I'm sorry if I overstepped; it's just that it was wonderfully drawn,” he apologises.

“I drew it,” you admit quietly “my friend then tattooed it.” 

“You are an artist?” his face lights up with enthusiasm.

“I dabble….” you respond with a skewed pout, echoing his words back to him.

He huffs a laugh, and you find yourself giggling back. 

“I umm think I'm done recreating the design. Would you like to check it?” you reach for a wheeled mirror and angle it so he can see the design. “You can check here or..” You wordlessly point at the ceiling. 

“Oh wow,” he huffs a laugh looking straight up, “I didn't notice you had a mirror on the ceiling.”

“Not my idea,” you rush to assert. “The owner seems to like the idea that clients can watch the work as it's happening,” you shrug.

“It's certainly novel,” he laughs. Then his focus falls to the markings you have made over his skin. “Oh wow, that's... Better than I thought it would be,” he admits.

“It's just the outline,” you offer, “so I know where to needle. The final design will be much closer to yours.”

“What do you think?” he asks, suddenly apprehensive.

“I think it looks amazing,” you disclose, “it suits you.”

He blushes again, and you watch with fascination as it creeps down his neck a little. “Thank you.” 

“So are we doing this?” you request, leaning in to double-check the lines.

“What?” he questions suddenly, his face jerking over and your cheekbones brush.

“The tattoo,” you whisper slowly but not moving your face. “Are you sure you want it? There's no going back after this.” Somehow it feels like your words have a double meaning—a subtext of burning tension.

“I want it”, he breathes, the gust moving the tendrils of hair around your ear. 

You swallow hard.

You pull over the tray with the inking and gun supplies, methodically prepping. Then you wipe down his skin with alcoholic wipes, ensuring the area is completely sanitised. The whir of the machine firing up surprises him a little, so you place a calming pressure on his shoulder.

“Tell me if you need me to stop; we can go as slow as you want,” you say close to his ear so he can hear you clearly.

He just nods; you see his tendons in his neck standing up in relief.

“Relax,” you instruct, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, “it will hurt less if you don't tense.”

You watch as he takes a breath and loosens up. 

Then you begin. When the needle touches his skin, he flinches slightly but not excessively.

“Is that okay?” you check

“It feels strange,” he admits. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” he closes his eyes and moves his head to look away from you.

Time seems to speed up as you trace the outlines of the design. He is still, just the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Again you are into your zone where this could be anyone anytime; it's about the effort and the artistry of the work. Thoughts of your strong attraction to him melt away as your focus is purely on the task at hand.  It's probably been about a half hour when he clears his throat, so you stop and look at him expectantly.

“Still okay?” you check-in.

“Yep, just a tickle in my throat,” he responds, a little dry.

“How about a drink? We can take a break here, actually,” you put down the gun and peel off the gloves you are wearing.

“Yes, please” 

“Water? Coke?” you offer

“You don't have anything stronger, do you?” he asks cheekily.

You laugh. “I do, but it's not supposed to be for customers.”

“I won't tell if you won't,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes a little, “Wait here,” and leave for the supply cupboard outside, where you keep the birthday whiskey your boss gave you. You grab two glasses and some ice from the kitchenette.

“Whisky on the rocks?” you announce as you reenter the room.

He’s sitting up now, taking what appears to be a selfie with his phone.

“Not vain honest,” he says sheepish, “just sending to my brother. He never believed I'd have the courage to do this. Yes, please to whiskey.”

You put down the glasses and hand him the whiskey bottle. “Here you do the honours. I will take a photo for you if you like. So you can send it?”

“Deal,” he grins, unlocking his phone and handing it to you. He cracks open the bottle seal as you snap a few shots that best show the design so far. Then you flick to another screen, type in a number and your name, and then hit send. You quickly lock the phone and hand it back.

In your pocket, your phone buzzes. 

“Did you just give me your number?” he queries, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he hands you a glass with a very generous pour. Oh, that smile is dangerous.

“Maybe…” you shoot back, hiding yours behind the glass as you raise it to your lips.

“Wait, we have to toast,” he frowns playfully as you go to take a sip.

“What to?”

“To beautiful art, whatever the canvas may be,” he says, his voice somehow more silky than before, as he clinks his glass against yours.

“That's an interesting one,” you murmur before you take a sizeable fortifying sip, enjoying the burn of the amber liquid. “You know I can’t in all good conscience continue tattooing you now I've had a drink,” you confess.

“Oh,” his face sinks slightly, “I hadn't thought about that.”

“We can continue tomorrow if you have time,” you suggest, “I can book you in.”

“Tomorrow works,” he nods, “what time do you open?”

“Usually 11am, but I can open earlier if you wish,” you offer, taking another swig of drink.

“That's very generous, but no 11am is fine. How much longer will it take?” he asks.

“Hmm, probably another hour,” you speculate. “Give or take,” as you drain your glass.

“So by lunchtime tomorrow, I will have my first finished tattoo?” he raises his eyebrows. 

“Indeed,” you smile.

“Thank you,” he says, suddenly quite earnest. “I'm not sure I would have been brave enough to go through with this if it wasn't for you,” it's a quiet confession, and he looks down, then up again through his eyelashes. 

It makes you want to pick up his chin and kiss the crap out of him.

“You are welcome,” you reply quietly, hugging your empty glass curled against your shoulder, enjoying its coolness seeping against your heated skin, unsure what else to say.

“You need a refill,” he states, gesturing for you to hand your glass over. The brush of fingers as you do so makes you want to gasp. There is silence as you watch him refill both glasses.

“No music?” he asks idly, “probably a stereotype, but I figured a tattoo parlour would have loud rock music playing all day.”

“Haha,” you deadpan, “I prefer classical or jazz when working. More zen. I can put some on if you’d like?”

“Sure, jazz sounds nice,” he says as you flick the remote and the music starts. You forget that it also programs the lights dimmer; he doesn't comment, so you let it pass.

“Ahh, Miles Davis,” he smiles, instantly recognising the track.

“Well done,” you nod, impressed and lean against the arm of the tattoo chair, enjoying the music, and the softer light in the room. 

“Can I ask you a question?” It's so quiet you almost don't hear him as he puts down his drink.

You turn slightly to face him. “Sure,” you whisper back, placing yours aside too.

“Would you have any objections if I kissed you right now?” he closes his eyes, almost pained that he is asking. 

It's the most adorable proposition you've ever received. So instead of answering, you just lean forward and press your lips to his before he even opens his eyes again.

His response is instant and surprising. For a demure proposal, the kiss that follows is anything but—a hand snakes around your waist and pulls you against his warm naked torso, his lips hungry, his tongue snaking into your mouth and stealing your breathe as he teases yours. He kisses hungry, passionate, sensual. 

God, I want to push you down and climb on top of you right now; your mind cries at him.

“Yes, please,” he gasps as you belatedly realise you spoke the words into his mouth. Out loud.

Before you can be embarrassed, he twists and starts to recline in the chair, his arm around you, pulling you over him. So you hop up and straddle him instantly, lowering yourself over him as your lips meet again.

You know, without a doubt, you will be fucking him right in this chair. A hot slide of feeling inside, heat and moisture pooling between your legs. 

As you come up for air, you reach into your pocket and unlock your phone, quickly opening an app and tapping in a code.

“That bad, huh?” he jests, a little brittle.

“Oh god, no,” you murmur, “I'm locking the fucking shop door.”

“Oh…” he smiles, “wow, it's hot when you swear.”

“Oh really,” you tilt your head and run a finger over his lips, “then I’ll say what I thought the minute you walked into my shop.” You toss your phone aside.

“What?” it’s a little breathless.

“I hope he fucks me in my tattoo chair,” you confess.

He growls and pulls your hips down against him, surging up so you feel him rigid and insistent between your legs. You are desperate for this right now; it's been what feels like hours of tension and teasing, and you are beyond ready.

“Can we just fuck?” you suggest, “I know it's like a first, but please, I just want to go fast and hard.” You've never confessed that to anyone, even when you have felt it in the past.

“Oh god, yes,” he affirms and paws at your clothing. You rip off your top, and he helps you unhook your bra, his hands instantly grabbing your breasts as soon as they are free. 

You hum approvingly as you grind against him, unfastening your jeans and his at the same time, one hand on each.

“Wow, that's efficient,” he breathes, impressed.

“Yeah, I have talents,” you laugh, pushing his jeans down his thighs.

“I can tell,” he agrees, as you hop off him, strip off your jeans and underwear to the floor and are back on him in a flash. He stutters as you grind your naked, soaked cunt against his grey boxer briefs, the moisture seeping through the cotton. “Fast and hard, you mean it?”

“Yes, I do,” it's your turn to growl.

His expression melts into something else entirely, and he surges up and forces you down on top of him. Strong arms lock you against his body as he kisses you with a ferocity you didn't think him capable of. You feel a hand next to your leg tugging down his underwear; then, he grabs himself and, without warning, surges his cock into your body.

“Oh FUCK” you scream against his lips, eyes rolling from the sheer invasion.

“You asked for it,” he gloats.

“Yes, yes, I did,” you stutter and pant as he just holds there, allowing you to adjust to the sensation.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers darkly. 

“Oh god, yes,” you reply and tilt downwards so his pelvis is flat on the chair. You rise, careful not to put your hand anywhere near the fresh tattoo as you place your hands on his body and start gyrating in little circles, dragging his cock against all your walls, stretching yourself out, revelling in the feeling of being so viscerally filled and violated. “Damn, you feel good,” you moan.

“So do you,” he groans, “please, please fuck me.” 

You've never had a man beg like that before, and god, it does so many things to you. You want to pull his hair and push him down, licking a hot stripe up his neck, biting his chin. Realising there’s nothing to stop you, you do it - his responding noise is music to your ears. You pull up and slam down onto him, stuttering a yes through clenched teeth. Knowing you will do this for hours until your thighs are trembling if he’ll let you. 

His hands grab your hips as you begin a steady rhythm. “Your tattoo is the sexiest thing I have ever seen,” he asserts, his fingertips trailing the vines just as you'd fantasised. Little fires of heat follow wherever he touches, bringing goosebumps to your thighs and arms. It makes you ride keener, sitting up, back arched, using just your thighs as leverage. As he reaches the vine that twists and wraps around your thigh, you moan, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “I want to trace it with my tongue,” he declares.

“Yessss,” you hiss, “ I want that.” He feels divine sliding in and out of your cunt, just the right dimension to make it invasive as you push down, the kind of slight ache you chase from every new sexual partner but rarely receive. You keep a steady pace, lingering on the downstroke, revelling in the stretch, then a snap up. You throw your head back and close your eyes, enjoying the intoxicating moment.

“Open your eyes,” he murmurs, his voice deep, “watch yourself”. 

You do so and see your reflection in the ceiling mirror—it's an arresting sight. He looks gorgeous laid out beneath you, and you look close to a goddess as you rise and fall onto him. 

You make eye contact with him in the reflection, which charges the atmosphere. This is so wrong, but so right - fucking this stranger in your place of work.  Hypnotised by the tableau you see above you, you grab his hands from your thighs and push them onto your breasts, leaning forward into his hold and changing the angle of your hips. You shudder as his cock nudges just right, deep inside. 

“Oh, there it is,” he smirks and tweaks your nipples as you start to pant open-mouthed and fuck yourself roughly, using him, “that's it, how does that feel?” his voice velvety.

“So… fucking… good,” you groan a word with each stroke, tearing your eyes away from the ceiling to look down at him, the chair starting to squeak a little in protest as you go faster. Plunging without thought for anything but chasing the spiralling feeling coiled tight in your belly.

“I- I can’t last like this,” he warns at your onslaught, moving his hands to grasp your hipbones, his thumbs pushing into the flesh of your belly like a band over your tattoo.

“Just hold on, please; I just need a little more. Fuck, your cock feels so good,” you babble through gritted teeth, mindlessly close to something amazing.

“What you need is this,” he growls and flicks a fingernail at your distended clit as you rise. You scream at the sensation, and your cunt clenches forcefully onto him. “Fucking hell,” he cries at the pressure.

“Do that again,” you order through gritted teeth, and he obeys, a whole pulse running up your spine this time, causing you to buck hard against him. 

You lean over and kiss him hungrily, moaning into his mouth, running your hands over his face, into his hair. As you go to pull away, he grabs your jaw and holds you in place, kissing over and over until your lips feel sore and your lungs burn for more air. All the while, you push insistently down onto him, unable to stop yourself from chasing the feeling so hard.

“Cum with me,” you whisper against his lips, looking down at him as you push yourself closer and closer.

“In-inside you?” he stumbles, his pupils blown wide, surprise written across his features as if it never occurred to him that you would allow it. 

“Yes, give it to me,” you respond gustily. You belatedly realise in your mindless haste that you are riskily bareback fucking a stranger; it’s just not like you. “I'm protected,” you shorthand.

“Okay,” he whispers, a touch reverential. 

You rise back to a sitting position, and then his finger slips against your clit, circling with the necessary pressure, and you feel hurtling straight towards oblivion, wound so tight. 

“Don't stop,” you chant, closing your eyes as you ride so fiercely the chair rocks on its moorings. He groans loudly now and is surging up strongly into you, meeting you on your downward thrust, fucking himself so deep you know you will feel it tomorrow. Opening your eyes, you see him staring up at you desperately, a bead of sweat forming on his brow that you ache to lick off. “Ben,” you cry as you snap.

You know he is groaning and calling your name and a litany of other things as you convulse around him, sunk deep, your thighs trembling, but it sounds far away as blood rushes in your ears—the vibrations coursing through your body from a tingle in your scalp to spasms in your hands. Then he sinks his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, cumming deep inside you, the warmth coating your walls.

You slump on top of him, uncaring of how inelegant it may be, the bone-deep satisfaction causing your muscles to feel languid and weak. You pant against his neck from the exertion, glad you collapsed on the side away from his tattoo.

“That was….” he begins but pauses to exhale heavily, “fuck, that was amazing,” he concludes, his hands running up and down your back in soothing, swirling patterns. “I… just… fuck, I honestly can't talk,” he gusts, embarrassed.

You giggle and lift your head to look at him. “It was wonderful,” you opine and run a finger over his lips. He busses against it, and a lazy breathtaking smile breaks across his face.

“So umm, may I see you again?” he asks, the sweet bashful man back again.

“Yes, 11am tomorrow bright and early,” you say pointedly with a smile.

“Oh fuck, I almost forgot,” he gusts a laugh attempting a glance at his shoulder.

“But umm, if you want to hang out after that, I'm amenable,” you offer with what you hope is a nonchalant tone; inside, you are yelling, please, please.

“How about before then?” he asks, “What are you doing this evening? And overnight? And in the morning?” his voice teasing and sweet.

Oh.

“I can be available,” you respond lightly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Good,” he sighs, “because I’m probably going to need help tending this tattoo” he tilts towards his fresh ink. “And I’m definitely going to need time to tend to this tattoo,” his voice suddenly husky as he traces his fingers lightly over your vines.

Well, that's an offer you are not going to refuse.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enchantedbytomandhenry

[harcove]

i do hava an oc whos in the stars, shes the younger one, so maybe a leon x reader au in which leon falls in love with stars member reader? (in case, leon goes to his first day and all there's no apocalypse)

I love love love this cause I love the idea of another younger S.T.A.R.S member, and lowkey its reminding me of my own OC who, while she doesn't join S.T.A.R.S she joins the BSAA later in life. So this was super fun to write.

I kinda got carried away with a like first meeting thing so it's kinda open ended... But I hope this is good-

Length: 1.3k

Request: in the ask

Warnings: nope! Maybe that this is an AUish thing oop

Leon Kennedy x Reader AU: The Rookie

The police station was more abuzz than usual; not that it was ever entirely to exciting in a small town like Raccoon City. But it was really abuzz that day, and everyone knew why. There was supposed to he a new recruit coming in, a new officer, and that hadn't happened  in a while apparently, especially not one as young as the guy coming in.

All you knew was he was around the same age as you, was a boy, and that his name was Leon. You couldn't help but also feel a bit excited to have the RPDs little family grow bigger. Though you weren't sure how much of him you would totally see, being part of the S.T.A.R.S unit.

Your hands reached up as high as you could stretch them, holding the letters on cardboard paper up so you could pin them up above the office for the officers. Behind you, you heard Chris Redfield bite into an apple.

"It's crooked," he said amused as he leaned against the wooden railing by one of the doors that led to the main hall of the RPD, watching you, bemused, "and you spelt Welcome wrong."

Your eyes bugged out of your head as you whipped your head back to your fellow S.T.A.R.S member, who also happened to be not just a friend but also a real pain in the ass sometimes.

"No its not," you said half trying to convince yourself, leaning back, almost falling off the table you stood on to look at the sign you had almost fully pinned up.

"You're right," he took another bite from his apple and chewed on it thoughtfully before continuing, "you spelt it right, that was a test."

"A test for what?!"

"To see if you could win a spelling B," he shifted his weight from on leg to the other as he crossed them behind him.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a piece of tape off your arm where you had placed a few pre cut pieces before for easy access, you started finishing placing the sign up.

"You're hilarious," you said, "no really. I'm so glad you're here to make jokes instead of helping me put this up."

"I'm eating," he stated, "and I am helping- move that a little to the right, it's not even."

You obliged reluctantly.

"Jill would never do this to me. She'd help," you pouted.

"Jill babies you."

"Jill just likes me more than she likes you," Jill wasn't THAT much older than you and neither was Chris.

Chris didn't bother responding to that last statement as he threw the core of his apple into the trash bin by the door, and held his hand out for you.

"I'll finish," he said, looking between the sign and you, "you keep making it crooked."

As much as you wanted to get down and stomp on his foot for that one, you opted on just rolling your eyes as you took his hand as did a little jump off the table, steadied by Chris' hand.

"Just hurry up," you watched Chris get up onto the table and take the tape you had, "I want one of those donuts Barry brought into our office this morning before they're all gone."

You managed to get your donut, Chris finishing the sign hanging in record time. With a glazed donut in your hand you decided to head back downstairs to the entrance before work caught back up with you in the S.T.A.R.S office, and mainly to see if the new guy had arrived yet.

Hopefully the sign was nice. It wasn't your idea alone; when Wesker had mentioned in the office one day that the main force was getting a new member soon, you had decided to ask them yourself, curious and interested. Rita, one of the female officers, had told you that it was true- not that you hadn't already believed Wesker, and that she thought it would be a nice idea to do something to make him feel a little more welcome in a completely new place with seasoned officers. So came the idea of the sign.

You weren't paying attention when you bumped into a strong body and almost dropped your donut.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry-" you choked a bit on the donut in your mouth as you started to apologize to the person, only to meet eyes with a man you didn't even recognize; but his eyes were so captivating and something about him felt familiar. Like you could trust him already.

"No, no," the young man started, cutting you off. He seemed a bit nervous, and you noted the uniform he had on; RPD officer, "I wasn't paying enough attention, I'm new here and-"

"Leon?" You only realised after you'd said it how weird that must've sounded, knowing the name of a guy who had never even met you till now and vice versa. It was plain as day on his confused face, so you quickly continued, "we all heard a new officer was coming- so your name, that's how I know!"

His face softened a bit but his brows were slightly furrowed like he was a bit worried, no, nervous. A small smile played on his lips, "word travels fast here then?"

"Well," you cleared your throat, "in a small place like this, yeah, kinda."

His eyes scanned the museum turned police station before coming back to meet yours, an eyebrow raised.

"Small?"

"Well," breathing out a laugh you swallowed, "it's a big station, but not a huge force. We're not the biggest city."

"Ah, makes sense," he smiled amused at you, seeming to relax a bit more, "so you're one of the officers?"

"Um, kinda. I'm part of the S.T.A.R.S. unit. Special Tactics and Rescue Services. We're kind of... A branch off of the main force, and smaller. With a different office, upstairs."

"No uniform for you guys then?" He sounded a bit disappointed at the realization you had a different office.

You looked down at your outfit, the only thing really indicating you were even part of the police, and S.T.A.R.S being the badge on your hip, "ya... Not yet. We have some ideas for some but, I'm not a big fan. Between you and me, I'd like to not have to wear a uniform. Uh, no offense."

"None taken," he chuckled and you found you liked that sound, "You know my name but I don't know yours...?"

"Oh, right," you reached your unoccupied, and clean from donut residue, hand out to shake his, "Y/N L/N,  member of the S.T.A.R.S unit, and also the best member. Don't let Chris tell you otherwise when you meet him."

"Of course," his hand was much bigger than your own, "wouldn't want anyone to sway my opinion."

"Of course not-" your voice was cut off as you heard the receptionist not too far from the two of you clear her throat and call out to you.

"L/N, Mr. Wesker is asking for you upstairs; something about a report..." she trailed off as your eyebrows lifted considerably.

"Oh... Shit," a report you had neglected in favour of literally anything else, and mainly with that sign you had put up in the office, "I'm sorry to cut this short Leon, but uh... Duty calls! You're gonna fit in here great, don't let any of the others push you around, it's all in good fun but they can be real pieces of work sometimes! I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, of course," he felt his ears turn hot.

You left the new rookie cop to stand in your dust as you raced to get upstairs, preoccupied by a report you had only half finished. But Leon couldn't take his eyes off of you, or where you had been standing. A bit lost in thought.

He didn't wanna admit it, but he might've already been falling for one of his colleagues. And he knew he'd be seeing you a lot. He'd been so nervous, and you had made him feel welcomed from the start. You were something special, something he was definitely going to hold on to if he could.

[spideyspeaches]

Gold Rush ↬ t.h

Gif by @parkeraul :)

A/N: I'm in love with that song 🙈 also here's my super late contribution of professor!tom 😋 cause I've been procrastinating on the wandavision au (in my defence though, it's taking a lot of brainstorming 😂) anyway here you go-

Wc: 2.6k+

Warnings: lemme know if you find one :)

Summary: He taught British History and you chastise yourself for not auditing for that subject earlier.

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Waking up with a start, you groan at the shrill sound of your alarm. With a sigh that was more of a grunt of annoyance, you tried to reach for your phone at the side table, hissing when you felt the corner of your elbow hit the table, pain shooting up to your shoulder. 

Great, you weren't even up yet and your day was already going shitty. You just hoped that your professor won't be grumpy about you being late for the millionth time this semester. 

You hated cultural architecture. You had nothing against the course, but You hated your professor with a passion and wished that you could burn your textbooks for all you cared, right in front of your teacher's eyes, watch him writhe in fear as you banished the very existence of your material. 

You were being dramatic, but in your defence, your professor was an old bastard who never left an opportunity to reprimand you, going as far as letting you know how uneven your margins were on your latest project. 

He wore birkenstocks with a three piece. You wouldn't trust him with your assignments. 

Getting out of your dorm room was work, hard work. But you got out, brushed your teeth and wore what you hoped were presentable clothing. 

"You look hungover." Your roommate, Stacy, commented, spitting in the sink as you scowled at her. 

She was straightforward, outspoken and somehow managed to look like one of those Victoria secrets models that you loathed, even at seven in the morning. You hated her. 

(You didn't.)

"Thanks, I hope I smell too. Want that son of a bitch- what's his name, Wilson, to suffer for giving me that C minus on my thesis." You grumbled, rubbing your hands through your hair to flat them out. 

"You really hate him, don't you." She snickered, popping off her shirt. You tried not to look, not wanting to come off as a pervert, but damn, she was fit. You contemplated her words, frowning at your own reflection. 

You looked disheveled, the dark eye bags under your eyes very apparent as you tried to mask them with foundation, setting your hair for the millionth time. Oh well, you were presentable enough. Sweatpants would have to do for your only class today, you could binge Netflix after this wretched class. 

"I do. I hope his third wife divorces him and he loses his thermos of coffee in the subway." You said, adding your look finally before wearing your shoes. 

"That's cruel, didn't know you had it in you." She snickered, patting your back and following you as you closed the door, "Well I have to go to my boring science lectures now so, see you later hun." 

"Yeah, enjoy your chemistry period with your boyfriend!" You cheered sarcastically, rolling your eyes and hugging her to tell her that you were only joking. Your relationship was this, of jokes and hugs and kisses. You considered her your best friend. 

Rushing towards the gates of your university, you hastily tightened your loosening hair tie, adjusting the straps of your bags. You were pretty sure you had broken your record of being late to your class. You may hate the professor, but you actually enjoyed the subject. 

Wheezing as you ran past the late comers, you nodded at the receptionist, hastily signing yourself in. You would blame your clumsiness for what happened next, because one second you were fixing your sande on the foot of the fountain, and next thing you knew you were crashing into a firm body, your nose hitting the random stranger’s chest.

"I’m so sorry! I’m kinda late to class and I wasn’t looking and- whoa, ow.” You rushed your words, groaning when you felt blood rush from your head to toe, nose throbbing with double vision, a reminder of your clumsiness. 

“Whoa, hey calm down, it’s okay, I wasn’t looking either.” The stranger said, his thick South Western accent snapping you out of your self pity. 

You felt blood rush to your cheeks instead, not anticipating your face in a flush this early in the morning, when you got a good look at the stranger. He was good looking, in his black high turtleneck and brown checkered pants. He had a small leather satchel clutched in his hands, face looking as flushed as you felt when you realised that you had been gawking at him.

He was probably no older than his mid twenties, making you wonder what he was doing in your university. He was too old to be a student, and too young to be a professor. But then again, you wouldn't judge him for joining college late.

Right? 

"S-sorry, you um, you must be really late, you should go." He stuttered, your heart fluttering at his dimpled chin and thick accent. His eyes were gleaming in the morning sun, captivating in a way that left you in awe. 

"Um yeah, I am." You nodded, composing yourself, hoping that you didn't look too sleep deprived or disheveled, "where are you going, if you don't mind me asking."  

"Um, the architecture wing?" He said, unconsciously stepping besides you.

"Oh, I'm going that way. Is it your first time coming here? Haven't seen you around." You asked, trying not to stare at his sharp jawline and the way the morning sun hit him just right, illuminating and accentuating his curly brown hair. 

"Yeah, it's my first lecture, so um, looks like I'm late too." He smiled. It was infectious, you noticed as you mirrored his expression. 

"Oh, you're a student?" 

"Actually, I'm a professor. Just transferred from UCL." 

So you were right, he was a professor. He looks so young though. You thought, nodding at him, your thoughts interrupted by his laugh. Looking at him with confusion, you raised an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, everyone says that. I started right after finishing graduation so, I guess I'm not much older than you." He smiled, kicking the small pebbles littered around the set grassy ground. It had just rained, the smell of wet ground still fresh. 

"I said that out loud didn't I?" You smirked, ducking your head to hide. 

"You did." 

Entering the building, you realised that you hadn't asked which subject he taught, crossing your fingers and hoping that he would replace the old bastard that taught you cultural architecture. 

"I forgot to ask, which lecture do you teach?" You asked, looking for your class in the end. The hallways were empty, it was way past your first lecture and all the students were already in the auditorium. 

"Oh, uh, British History." He answered. You didn't let disappointment show too much on your face, smiling shyly before gesturing towards the class, "that's you." 

"Oh, um thank you." He smiled, pursing his thin lips together as he walked towards the class. You could hear screaming of the students as you both neared the classroom, you still standing by the door, "I didn't get your name." 

His question snapped you out of your disappointed gaze, 

"Oh, it's Y/n. Y/n L/n." You said with a smile. 

"Pleasure to meet you Y/n, I'm Thomas Holland, but you can call me Tom." He said awkwardly, before turning back to his class, who had yet to notice him.

"The pleasure's all mine Professor." 

For the first time in your college life, you didn't feel like tearing your hair off during your lecture, your thoughts wandering around. You wanted to berate yourself for not paying attention, but your thoughts kept going there. 

It was funny, how you met him not long ago and he was already taking up residence in your brain. You could not control your feelings after all. Something akin to nausea or excitement eased into your stomach when you pictured his smile, his black turtleneck that accentuated his biceps and pectorals. The little rebellious eyebrow and the tiny scar above it. 

It made your heart flutter, everything seemingly seemed to stop around you. It scared you a bit, how You had managed to envision the little details of his face in your brain after such a short duration. 

You didn't realise that you were smiling until you felt a nudge on your side, making you nearly jump on your seat. 

"What?!" You hissed, scowling at your classmate. 

"Who're you thinking about?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned towards you. You had known her long enough to know her name but never bothered learning, and you were too scared to ask now. 

"It's none of your business." You muttered, glancing up to see your professor scowling at a student as they stood up. 

"Well okay, but did you hear about the hot new professor? Apparently he's teaching British History, I regret not taking that as a subject now." She said, her cheeks flushed with excitement. You furrowed your brows, feeling a pang in your chest at the realisation that you were probably just another girl with a stupid crush on the hot professor, that there were already girls who would die to feel his touch. 

"How do you know about him?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as you try to act nonchalant. You weren't being subtle, apparently, because you could see her snapping her bubblegum with a smirk, leaning forward as if trading secrets. 

"You kidding right? Everyone knows about him, you got a crush on him or something?" She suggested, scooting close enough to make you squirm. 

"I literally just met him, and ew, he's a professor, why would I see him that way?" You whisper, willing your heart to stop palpitating at the thought of said professor, your gut twisting in anticipation. 

"I don't know girl, he's hot and young and so much better than this bastard." She sighed, leaning on her palm with a fake dreamy expression. 

You went back to ignoring her after that, noticing how her notebook said 'Eloise'. At least you didn't have to ask her her name now. 

Your class went surprisingly well, or maybe it was because you weren't paying attention and thinking about him again. You really needed to get a grip on yourself. 

Walking out of your class, you decided to go to the cafeteria, your stomach begging for your attention.

Setting your things on a table, you took out your phone to scroll through Instagram, before switching it off and looking around the cafeteria. You didn't know what you were expecting to see, but your stomach was gurgling with hunger and nothing made sense when you were hungry. 

Walking to grab something to eat, you pick up your bag, hanging it over one of your shoulders before getting in the line. 

Just as you were about to turn with your bun and cup of coffee, you crashed into someone for the second time that day. Cursing your clumsiness, you heard a familiar British accent curse not very colourful words, making you stumble over as you tried to wipe off the hot coffee off his shirt.

"Hey, it's okay." He said, stopping your frantic gestures by holding your wrist with his to cease any movements.

"Professor Holland! I'm so sorry, it's like, I'm just clumsy. I have no excuse." You sighed in resignation, mentally facepalming at spilling your coffee at the hot professor. 

"It's okay darling, I've had much worse spilled on me." He smirked, his hand still holding on to yours. You had started walking away from the location, and yet his hand didn't let go, "You know, I used to babysit during my college days." 

"Oh, babysitting, right of course." You chuckled awkwardly, chest heaving with the sudden close proximity with the professor, dissipating the not quite PG thought that just occurred in your mind at his words.. 

"Sorry for-" You said in unison with him, chuckling. 

"You go first." He said.

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on You, it must have hurt and I ruined your shirt and now there's a big splotch of coffee right in the middle!" You said, circling your fingers around your palm as you walked with your back to the exit as you walked out of the cafeteria, food forgotten and him following your pace. 

Before you could continue your awkward blabber, you were standing in the garden outside, leaning against a pillar with the garden in your view looking golden in the setting sun. He was standing in your view, the shadows around his jaw making it look sharp enough to cut glass. 

Taking a breath, you looked up at his smiling form with confusion when he didn't answer, instead leant onto the pillar next to you.

"You were... gonna say something?" You reminded, smiling awkwardly as you fiddled with your fingers.

"Oh? Oh! Oh yes yes, You know, I was kind of disappointed that you weren't in my class, Mister Wilson talks very highly of you." He said, folding his arms on his chest, it made his biceps bulge. 

"He does?" You looked at him with surprise, guilt panging in your chest when you remembered yourself bad mouthing the professor not long ago. 

"Yes, says you're a bright student with a bright future." He answered, leaning his head back so that his neck was exposed, Adam's Apple bobbing as he gulped, his hair falling into place perfectly against his forehead. The arch of his neck was beautiful, tracing it with your eyeballs as you imagined which other curves of his were as beautiful, immediately dismissing those thoughts, chastising yourself for thinking such a way of a professor. 

"That's… sweet of him. I've never heard him compliment me once in the two and half years I've been in his class." You chuckle, leaning your elbow on the pillar to get a better look at his side profile. 

"Hmm, he says he's hard on you because he wants you to do your best..." 

You stopped listening past that, your breath growing more erratic the more he talked, his smooth voice washing over you like warm honey with a squeeze of lemon. Swallowing a sudden lump in your throat, your heart leaping, leaving you nauseous and in a dream like trance. 

Tom noticed immediately, noticing your slouched posture as you stared at him with a small smile, the upturn of your lips so inviting that he almost dived in, wanting to know the feeling of them what they felt like against his. 

He wasn't the kind to date his students, in fact, he rarely dated after joining uni and becoming a professor. 

He strictly believed that student/teacher relationships should end in only a professional non romantic set up. That was all up until he crashed into you that morning. 

You had been in his mind all day, stirring him crazy as he imagined your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your subject of interest, the say your fingers fiddled with the ring you wore on your index finger. 

He wondered if this feeling would last forever or become a vague memory, an attraction of hearts that didn't last but felt good till it did. If he was rushing, or if you even felt the same way. 

He was smart, of course that's how he became a teacher, but he still couldn't place your feelings. 

So when he saw you staring at him, his heart leaping in his throat at your adorable smile, the only logical answer his brain gave was that you liked him too. Temporary attraction or not, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in it's mouth. 

Next thing he knew your lips were crashing onto his, your chest pressed against his firmly as your hands reached up to the base of his neck. 

Your fingers were soft, tongue swishing against his as he opened his mouth to let you enter. His hands automatically reach for your waist, holding onto firmly as he slammed you against the pillar. 

The sun was nearly down, the last of the rays hitting the garden, lighting you both up in a golden glow that left you breathless with a fire raging in your souls. 

"What do you say that I audit for British history? I'd like to learn more lessons from you, Professor Holland." You said, breathless against his chest, hiding your nose against his sternum, blood rushing to your ears as his warm hand burned against the bare skin underneath your shirt. 

"That would be great darling, anything to see your pretty smile every morning." 

A/N: let me know what you think! :)

[divinerulerluvr]

Let Me Violate You

Summary - in 1985 after taking some funny coke at a recording studio, she finds herself at the Cortez and meets Mr. James Patrick March only to meet her fate, as well

Warnings - smut (duh), bondage, coercion, murder, bondage, drugs, power kink, james is a dom per ush, idk its very dark dare i say

Words - 2.7k

Inspired by the song Closer by Nine Inch Nails ;)

- - -

The world was blurry as i stumbled into a random hotel in Downtown LA. I had been recording a new song at the studio just a few minutes away and the idiots i work with gave me some fucked up coke and now here i am, barely lucid and tripping out of my mind.

Leaning against the receptionist counter for support, i look up to the woman who reads a book. She peers at me over it, a certain look of disappointment in her eyes as she sets it down. “I-I would like a room,” i ask, blinking quickly.

“Fifteen dollars for the night,” she says flatly. I give her a twenty, too high to care about change. She smiles at me before standing up and grabbing a key from the wall and handing it to me. The key had a ‘64’ chain on it.

“Room sixty-four. Sixth floor,”

I nod before stumbling to the elevator, getting to the sixth floor, and walking through the halls until i got to room 64. Unlocking the door, i push it open and walk into the large suite. Going straight to the bed, i lay back on it with an exasperated sigh.

I am too high for this.

Staring at the ceiling that looks like it was twirling and twisting, i feel eyes on me. Sitting up, my eyes glance around the room. My eyes land on a man who stands at the end of the bed, a cigarette in his hand.

I jump, trying to confirm whether he was real or not with the state i was in. “W-Who are you?” i stutter nervously, my eyes wide with fear. The man smiles, drawing at his cigarette to build some sort of anticipation.

“I should be asking who are you? This is my suite,” he says in return, his voice coated with a thick 20’s accent. He was an attractive man. His dark hair was styled perfectly and in the dark of the room i could make out his sharp jawline and piercing eyes.

“I paid for this room,” i argue, confused to who this strange man is.

He grins a predatory and evil grin that made my stomach twist. “Would you like a drink?” he offers, ignoring the previous conflict. “I’d like you to get out of my room,” i bite back. He turns his back to me, pouring something into a glass.

Turning back to face me, he extends a glass of the drink to me. “No need to be so rude, darling,” he advises, his head tilted patronizingly. He takes a slow step towards me, his eyes dead on mine. Swallowing thickly, i accept the drink.

Suspiciously, i drink from the glass. The alcohol burned down my throat and the drugs already in me didn’t help. Finding it wasn’t poisoned, i chugged the rest of it down.

He sips from his own glass, his eyes never leaving mine. “Who are you?” i ask yet again. “James March,” he replies simply. I just nod, finding that i had this strange fuzzy feeling in my mouth.

I had already finished the drink he’d offered and it was too late to go back. I had jinxed the fact that it was drugged. Because i know what being drugged feels like.

Before i could do anything, i was out like a fucking light.

-

I woke up after god knows how long. I felt rope rubbing my wrists raw and rope that kept my feet tied to the bed. Panic fills me as i look around the room frantically. It was that James guy who fucking drugged me and fuck knows what he’s going to do to me.

I breathe out quietly, trying to calm myself as i pull at the ropes that keep my arms tied apart to either post of the bedframe. I was in a starfish position, rendering me completely helpless.

“You really should never take a drink from a stranger, my sweet Y/n,” i hear James’ voice say from beside me, startling me at his sudden appearance. “Fuck off. Let me go,” i complain, glaring up at him.

He chuckles, reaching his hand down and petting my hair. I recoil from his touch, my heart beating quicker than if i was on acid. He notices my reaction to his touch, a look of anger crossing his face right before he slaps me.

Not a playful smack, either. A real smack. It stung my cheek, a groan leaving my lips. He exhales sharply, his ominously black eyes glaring at me with disgust. “I think you forget who’s the one tied up and the one who did the tying,” he says, walking away from me.

I still fight against the ropes, my wrists burning like hell. I was lucky i was still clothed. But with this man, i wasn’t sure what he wanted from me.

“Why are you doing this?” i ask him, watching as he takes off his belt. My heart jumps, my thighs instinctually trying to push together but failing due to my position. He glances up at me as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“You were just so beautiful, dear. I had to have you for myself,” he says with a charismatic smile. His white button-down sits loosely on his shoulders, exposing his toned chest and abs to me. “That’s fucking creepy,” i scoff, watching his every move with precision.

He shrugs. “I think it’s romantic. When i’m done, you’ll never leave the confines of this hotel again,” he counters.

“Yeah right,” i mumble to myself, moving around on the bed still trying to free myself from the bonds keeping me at his mercy. He glares at me. “You have a horrible habit of talking back,” he points out, running his hand up my bare leg and playing with the hem of my skirt.

I swallow thickly, a dull heartbeat growing between my legs as his soft touch trails further up my leg and under my skirt. His hand cold but his touch was warm. Bunching up my skirt, his eyes fall onto my black panties.

“Maybe i should do something about it, hm?”

Keeping quiet, my cheeks burn in embarrassment as his eyes rake over my bare legs. He walks away from me, retrieving something from a drawer and coming back to me with it in hand. He presents a ball gag and i feel my breathing pick up.

Placing the pink plastic ball of the gag in my mouth, James buckles the strap around my head and i could feel myself lose every last ounce of power i had.

He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a hand knife and placing it to the waistband of my skirt. In one fluid motion, he cuts it into two pieces and tears it off of me. He does the same to the top i wore, shredding it and discarding it carelessly.

His eyes fall on my now bare chest. I never wore bras. Softly, he runs his fingers over my breasts, enjoying how my skin breaks out into goosebumps at his feather-light touch. He runs his hand down my stomach, feeling how i pant with anticipation.

Cutting off my panties, i was completely exposed to him. He sees how wet i am, a proud smirk spreading on his lips. “I’ve barely even touched your pretty body yet, doll. And yet look at this,” he taunts, running his finger through my slick folds.

I whimper, my hips bucking back at the sensation of his touching me. He uses his free hand to hold down my hips, keeping me flat on the bed. “I thought you didn’t want this,” he teases, his eyes admiring my naked body.

Unable to speak, i just furrow my brows pathetically. He smiles, enjoying how mindless i look. He rubs slow and teasing circles over my clit, his touch gentle as he stimulates me.

Weak moans leave my lips but are ultimately silenced by the gag in my mouth. My legs tremble slightly as i occasionally jolt with pleasure. He was giving me the bare minimum but it felt so fucking good.

Spit falls from the corner of my mouth, my eyes watering with the pain of him only touching me lightly. I could see the bulge in his pants and i knew i was in for quite the night. Men like him didn’t like vanilla sex. I would know. I’m in a goddamn rock band and it’s the eighties.

His hand leaves between my legs and instead uses his already wet fingers to wipe the spit that had left my mouth. His dark eyes meet mine as he returns his hand to my pussy, this time pushing his middle finger into me.

I arch my back, my head pressed into the pillow i lay on as i feel his finger curl inside of me. Not caring, he pushes a second finger into me and starts an even rhythm of finger fucking me

My whimpers sound pathetic and tears fill my eyes. I beg internally for more pleasure. But i was unable to actually ask for it which i knew was his entire point. I was wetter than i’ve ever been before. His fingers were like heaven inside of me.

His palm every once in a while grazes my clit, making my body shudder from the brief stimulation. “Look at you. How pitiful you are,” he degrades, his eyes taking in the way my eyes water and how a squirm on the bed.

“Little girls like you need to be taught a lesson,” he clicks his tongue, his fingers slowing down from their rhythm before he pulls them out. I groan at the loss, my eyes locked on his. “They need to be put to good use, for once,”

I watch with doe eyes as he throws off his shirt and takes off his pants. He gets on top of me, staring at me like i was prey and he was a starving predator. “You look positively beautiful tied to my bed," he compliments, caressing my hot cheek.

“To be fair, it is also very beautiful to watch you squirm with pleasure, my pet,” he says with a grin, repositioning so he was kneeling between my legs. He runs his hand up my stomach, reaching my breasts and massaging them. Giving special attention to my sensitive nipples.

His clothed boner rubs against my sensitive pussy, making me want him even more. My hands pull against their restraints, causing the red marks on my wrist to hurt more. He sees this, noticing how raw my skin was. “You know better than that,” he tsks, trailing his hand down my body and running it along my leg.

I didn’t know how to convey to him that i wanted him to absolutely destroy me, so instead, i just push myself against him, grinding my hips against his clothed dick.

He smirks, pushing my hips flat against the bed to stop me. “Patience, my pet,” he warns, feeling every inch of my naked body with a tender and almost caring touch. My eyes fall shut in irritation, trying to just enjoy his teasing touches that continue to lead me on.

His hand runs up my thigh, following the curve of my body and stopping at my neck where he lightly wraps his hand around it. I whimper, knowing full well he could feel my pulse against his hand.

“Do you think you’ve earned the privilege of pleasure?” he questions, his eyes dark with lust. I nod rapidly, my pussy practically hurting due to the lack of stimulation. He smiles, tightening his grip on my neck so he’s squeezing the sides.

His hand leaves my neck and i watch as he pulls off his boxers. Getting excited, i let him pull me down to meet him, the ropes pulled tautly and rubbing on my ligature marks even more. The sting was damn near unbearable but the pain would soon be forgiven.

Without mercy, he pushes himself into me. I cry out, my pitiful cries muted by the gag. It hurt. Of course it did. I may have been wet, but his dick was too big to just pull that shit. My nails dig into my palms as he bottoms out in me, his tip pressed into my g-spot deliciously.

The tears in my eyes fall down my cheeks, causing black streaks to trace down my face in the trail of the tears. I pull my hips back a little, his dick hitting unmarked territory inside me. He places his hands on my hips, pulling them down even closer to him as a way to punish me.

The ropes were now extremely painful. He pulls his hips back and starts fucking me rough without warning and especially without care. The pain quickly blossomed into pleasure. His hands dig into the flesh of my hips as he holds me steady so he can use and abuse me.

His hair had fallen out of its pristine style. A curl falling in front of his face as his eyes took in my body as he destroyed it. Soft grunts and groans would leave his lips, his thrusting pace harsh and deep.

If there wasn’t a gag in my mouth, i’d be so fucking loud right now.

He uses one of his hands and slithers it up my body, dragging some of the spit on my face down my chin and neck. His eyes lock on mine, a sort of animalistic starvation in them. He felt so good that i thought i would cum right now.

I wanted to touch him. To run my hands down his back and pull his hair. But then again, i couldn’t. Because i was tied up. Powerless. I knew his game and i knew it well. But i also fucking love the game.

My walls contract around him and i can already predict his reaction. He clicks his tongue, slowing his hips just a bit as to pull me back from the edge of an orgasm. I groan, my eyes falling shut and my head laying back.

He reaches and grabs my neck, startling my eyes open. “I want you to watch me use you, darling,” he instructs. I have no choice but to obey. My eyes trail down his toned torso to where he fucks me roughly.

It was so hot. Watching him go in and out of me. My wetness coating my pussy and even his dick. How you could see how deep he was hitting inside me due to the way my stomach pushes out in sync with each snap of his hips.

My eyes water even more, making it hard to keep them open to watch the scene before me. “Be a good girl for me and listen to my instructions,” he comments, noticing how my blinks got longer with each close of my eyes.

I try my best, my eyes flicking up to meet his. His hand that was around my neck moves to my pussy, rubbing circles on my clit with his thumb. I shudder, my entire body writhing at the new sensation.

The pleasure got to the point where i couldn’t take it anymore.

I attempt to pull my hips back, my body overwhelmed with pleasure to the point where it is borderline painful. “Uh uh,” he hums, reaching his hand up and smacking my cheek hard enough to make the previous mark sting even more.

With a dull cry, i stop trying to resist and give up every last ounce of power i had left to him, letting my body go limp so he could have his way with me.

He uses this to his advantage, fucking me harder than before. My breasts bounce with each merciless thrust, my eyes rolled into the back of my head as the mix between his touch on my clit and how he fucks me brings me to an orgasm.

Surprisingly, he lets me have my orgasm. My ears ring and i can feel every single drop of blood that runs through my veins. All my senses were heightened as he fucks me through my orgasm. With my eyes closed, i feel a sharp pain in my chest.

I open my eyes to see he had stabbed me, a proud look on his face. I begin to bleed as he removes the knife from my chest. “Now you’ll be with me forever. Like i said,” he comments as i feel his cum fill me up.

He collapses on top of me, my blood coating his pale skin as i take my last breath.

And i was dead.

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ~

Part III

© sailorhyunjinz 2021; Rights Reserved

All picture rights to their respective owners.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!Hyunjin x fem!model!reader, manager!Bangchan, stylist!Jisung, agedup!straykids, SMUT, fluff, character driven story, stranger to lovers, summer!au, soft!dom hyunjin x fem!reader, PIV, penetrative sex, protected sex (wow first time writing that, good on ya cher) sexual photos/pictures taken during sex, semi-public sex, orgasm (m/f), cum, fingering, blowjob, light choking, praise kink, handkink??

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 5.4 k

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: am so creative with the office numbers? right? tell me im creative LMAO

oh god this was a fucking pain in the ass to read through i cringed at every sentence so hopefully my pain will be your pleasure

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

Unlike any other day you couldn’t get out of bed. A boulder of nervousness plaguing you. Through the cracks of the blinds the sun shined in, small particles of dust floating around your resting figure. You were wide awake yet you felt asleep, your thoughts consuming your mind as the dimly lit room became brighter as time ticked on.

You were thinking, perhaps overthinking. This whole situation with Hyunjin seemed confusing and happened way to fast, your psyche not having a moment to digest the events that unfolded during the last couple of days.

Love was a feeling you were familiar with. You knew how it felt. Those butterflies in ones stomach, fluttering everytime a thought of the person passes through your ones.

You felt the same feeling everytime you thought of Hyunjin.

How his soft lips would feel against your cheek that was hot from just looking at his beauty. How his blond hair falls in his face everytime he puts it into a ponytail, his silver decorated fingers tucking the stray pieces behind his pierced ear. These thoughts alone would make your heart beat faster than ever, you eyes clouding with lust even if you knew that this relationship would be impossible given the status the both of you have in this judging industry.

Pushing the covers aside, you sat up before slowly stepping out, your feet hitting the cold flooring of the apartment. You stretched your arms upwards, feeling your spine extend as you squinted, a ray of sunshine hitting you right in the eyes.

The boulder in your chest didn’t feel any lighter but you still got up, wanting time to fly by fast just so you could see his face once again.

♡

No amount of mindfulness exercises could calm the churning of your stomach. The clock in your living room ticked as you watched it with careful eyes, waiting for the time to hit precisely half past before you got up from the couch and shuffled over to the wardrobe, only being stopped from a pling on your phone.

[Bangchan] y/n! can you come by in about an hour? need to discuss some concept photos, sorry for such short notice ❤️

That’s when it hit you. Bangchan didn’t know anything about this. He didn’t know that you’d seen the photos from the shoot and most importantly that you went on a date with the photographer. You could only describe the feeling as ‘improper’. Bangchan was after all one of the closest people in your life, he made you to who you are today and lying to him felt wrong but you shielded your eyes from the truth as you typed back.

[y/n] soz, got plans

[Bangchan] I don’t see any other meeting scheduled for today?

[y/n] you do know that I have a life outside of work? take the day off Chan, you could use some rest ❤️

[Bangchan] Don’t worry about me! You have fun alright?

[y/n] alright, see you next week then ^^

You clicked on the off button on your phone, making the text messages disappear. Getting paranoid, you plopped down on the couch, thinking about every possible way you could get caught which you’d already been, photos of you and Hyunjin circulating throughout social media but they mustn’t have reached Bangchan just yet. You felt like digging a hole underground, wanting to hide away from all these thoughts. The main thought in your mind was whether or not you understood Hyunjin’s intentions. 

What if this love was one sided? 

Waveing your hand in the air, you attempted to get the mind out of your head as if you were breaking up a cloud of real thoughts. You glanced up at the clock and only then realised that you were running late, as usual.

“Wear whatever you want”

Was what Hyunjin said last time but that didn’t make it easier to choose an outfit. Standing infront of multiple racks of clothing you pulled up the weather application on your phone. “Sunny” you mumbled, making you gravitate towards a beige croptop with white stripes around the neckline as well as a white tennis skirt. Not too dressed up but not too dressed down either, just right. Clothes were flying everywhere when you searched for a pair of white socks to pair with your white high platform sneakers. You put the outfit on, observing yourself in the mirror and smiling, trying to get yourself in a better mood rather than being a nervous wreck. Pulling up your phone, you snapped a picture and sent it to the person who knew best about fashion. Jisung.

[y/n] Sungie! Is this acceptable for a impromptu photoshoot?

The fashionable boy replied minutes later.

[Jisung] oh!! that’s so cute! very much acceptable in my book 🥺

You smiled at his reply

[y/n] phew! good... 

[Jisung] is it a date?

Your fingers froze above the keyboard on the phone. Was it that noticeable? Was this really a date? 

[y/n] no!!!

[Jisung] you sure, i saw those photos on social media. ahh.. y/n dating famous photographers now...

By this point you were sweating bullets. 

[y/n] first of all, i’m not meeting him and second of all, he’s a friend so shut it. 

[Jisung] hahah alright alright... i won’t tell Bangchan

[y/n] you have nothing to tell!! we’re friends just like you and I so be quiet otherwise i’ll come over there with balloons, popping them in your face.

[Jisung] oh wow... im so scared...

[y/n] need to leave, if i hear something about you spreading some rumors i’ll seriously do it.

[Jisung] Photo Attachment.

The photo that popped up was from yesterday and your breath hitched. You couldn’t help but to notice the way Hyunjin was looking at you, his eyes filled what seemed like adoration. 

[Jisung] yeah because that totally doesn’t look like a date

[y/n] DON’T TELL BANGCHAN PLEASE

[Jisung] oh so it is a date? alright, i won’t! have fun and be safe

[y/n] be safe? we’re taking pictures, not drag racing

[Jisung] hahah stop playing innocent

Your eyes widened in realisation.

[y/n] you crazy fucker

[y/n] I WILL DESTROY YOUR ENTIRE WARDROBE IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I DON’T SLEEP ON THE FIRST DATE

[Jisung] Whatever you say

Thanks to Jisung you were now running dangerously late leading to you snatching objects from all corners of the apartment before ordering a cab that would arrive in minutes.

♡

“We’ve arrived, miss” the cab driver says, smiling at you through the rear-view mirror. You thank him and step out of the yellow car, a smell of car exhaust hitting your nose. The cab drives away, leaving nothing but a small cloud of smoke. You looked up, almost not seeing the tip of the building as the skyscraper towered over you. You’re beside the busy road, mouth agape. You’d walked by a couple of times but knowing that you knew the person that owned at least a bit of the building made you giddy. 

You walked in and was greeted by a grand lobby, a front desk as big as the wall behind it. The entire place was filled with people, everyone from business men in suits to trainee models in the most flamboyant outfits. Fishnet stockings, heavy chains and distressed jeans that consisted of more air then jeans material. The sun shined through the many glass panes that made up most of the ceiling and the slight breeze of the air conditioner made this whole vibe of the building comforting. 

“Hi! y/n y/l/n, meeting Hwang Hyunjin” you say to the receptionist that was a relatively old woman, probably in her early 60′s. She was wearing a white button down shirt with her hair in a high bun, a couple of gray strands sticking out. Her red painted mouth contorted into a smile. 

“y/n, Hyunjin said that you could make your way to his office without the guards. You must be a close friend” 

You smiled shyly with your warm cheeks, looking at either side of the desk where two tall buff men were standing, wearing walkie talkies on their black vests. With a small nod, you started speaking. 

“W-where exactly is his office?”

“Floor 20, his main office is in room 03″

“Thank you!” 

You quickly shuffled over to the elevators, pushing the button that lit up with orange light emitting. 

PLING

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped inside, a couple of office workers joining you and pressing the necessary buttons to make the elevator lift off. 

You step out at the 20th floor, looking around at all the intricate wall design, everything inspired by ancient greece which explains the broken vases that were scattered across the hallway in the most unconventional places. They were all encapsulated with glass and standing on tall white pillars, the vases looking rather sad, being in a spectra of ashy grey colors, every single one of them falling apart. 

Stopping, you observed this one vase that caught your attention. It had swirly details around the edge and was shattered in a rather beautiful way. It made you think how even the most broken pieces still carry beauty, beauty unique to only oneself. 

“It’s pretty right?”

The voice sounded familiar and warm, almost as if it had anticipated your arrival. 

“y-yeah, it really is” 

You say turning around, nearly jumping up on the wall when seeing the figure that looked back at you. It was Hyunjin.

Yet again, his presence was astonishing. Everytime you met him it felt as if you’d met him for the first time. The blond boy was standing tall in front of you, wearing a black hoodie, black basketball shorts and a matching headband. A backpack was thrown across his one shoulder and a smaller camera around his neck, everything about his appearence looking completely different from the last time you saw him, his style usually more sophisticated. 

“On your way to meet me, yeah?” he asked and you nodded shyly. 

“My office is the other way, you know?”

You lifted your gaze to look at the tiny sign on the wall that pointed in two directions, you were walking down the hallway for offices 20-40 by accident and you smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of your head. 

“I didn’t know heh...” 

“It’s alright! Come with me, I was on my way to the studio”

“What room is that? Your office?”

“No, the room next to my office, come! I’ll show you!”

He grabbed your hand and you felt your body stiffen as he dragged you down the hallway, his hand not being decorated with statement rings this time, instead feeling soft and warm. You blanked out, your legs walking by themselves. 

He stopped at a brown door, a tiny gold sign saying « 04 » and beside it a transparent sign stating that this was a photography studio. Hyunjin opened the door and dragged you in, closing the door behind you.

A cold wind hit your warm body, the air conditioner blasting it’s breeze with a faint sound. The room was wide, one wall being made completely out of glass, stand close enough and you could peer down the bustling city filled with people, cars and buildings. The typical photoshoot setup was already in place, the camera being propped up infront of a white backdrop, a white pilar in the middle and two boxlights standing unlit behind the camera. In the corner stood a vintage brown leather couch, the swirly metal details were concealed with a layer of chipped gold paint. Beside the couch stood a simple white table. A black bucket rested on the floor and upon closer inspection you noticed plants, multiple stems of eucalyptus poking out, wrapped in cellophane.

“What are these for?” 

You sat down on your knees infront of the bucket while Hyunjin was pressing buttons on the camera that was screwed onto the tripod before walking over to the table and placing down the camera he had around his neck, his backpack lying lazily on the floor. He looked at your crouching figure, the corners of his lips going upwards.

“I thought they’d suit you”

You held in one of the stems, turning your head and looking at his shy smile, his dimples sitting playfully on the sides of his cheeks. You giggle, standing up and leaning against the white pillar, holding the plant in your both hands. 

“Do they?”

Hyunjin walked towards the steadied camera, bending down and peeking through the lens.

“They do”

click

Your eyes widen, him snapping a picture without you paying attention.

“Hey! I wasn’t even prepared!” you chuckle, pointing at the blonde boy with the long plant that was dripping at the stem. 

“Nature is a bit more beautiful when caught off guard, don’t you think?” Hyunjin says, his honey-like voice, echoing through the room.

You nod, staring down at the leafs of the plant, rubbing them between your thumb and pointer finger. 

click

click 

click

“Try leaning with your butt against the pillar and with one foot fully on the side of the pillar”

You did as he told, the pillar being surprisingly stable.

“Tilt your head and look down to the right”

Once again, you follow his instruction and he hums in satisfaction before pushing the button on the camera twice.

click

click

Your warm face turned into a smile, laughing loudly from embarrassment when he observed the pictures on his display. He snickers quietly from shyness, a faint blush brushing across his features as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. Hyunjin peeks up from the camera, seeing you looking down at the backdrop that was filled with ashy grey shoeprints. 

The sound of his footsteps got closer until you saw them in your periferal view causing you to look up at his tentative face. He smiles, displaying his pearly white teeth and crescent shaped eyes before stretching his hand out, feather light fingertips grazing your hot cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, your dainty gold earrings now visible. Hyunjin’s hand lingers on your jaw as he looks at you with a gleam in his eyes, you gulping loudly as your gaze lowers to his pouty pink lips. Leaning forward, Hyunjin tilts his head, attaching his lips onto yours, your heart skipping a beat from the comforting feeling of having him close to you. 

You drop the fragile twig on the floor, kissing him back by pursing your lips and tilting your head as well. The romantic tension that has been bubbling on the surface everytime you met had finally subsided, now the air overflowed sexual tension. 

Cupping his blushed cheeks, you deepen the kiss my licking his plump bottom lip, coaxing his tongue that eventually slipped into your mouth. His hands were firmly planted on your waist, pulling you closer to his body that radiated heat in the already scorching summer weather. 

The two tongues danced around in a impatient manner, the two of you dreaming of this moment since meeting. Hyunjin’s hands roamed over all the valleys of your body, placing his hands on the bottom of your butt, pulling you even closer, close enough to feel his semi-erection against your abdomen. Your eyes spring open in realisation, your body melting in his arms as you felt the effects of the deep kiss, the effects being you unable to control the wet patch that was forming on your underwear, nothing but the thin fabric seperating it from the air due to you wearing a skirt. 

Pulling away from the kiss, your hot breath and a line of saliva was the only thing that seperated you and Hyunjin. You shielded your face from his twinkling eyes, you glancing at the blonde boy through the gaps between your fingers. His two hands grip your wrists, pulling your hands down as he smiles widely

“Don’t hide that pretty face”

Hyunjin giggles, your chuckles following shortly after. The boy grips your wrist tightly, walking backwards as he looks intensely into your eyes, his back falling against the couch as you sit down on the couch on your knees, he looks at you for a moment before attaching his lips again, pushing you down and hovering above you. The wet sounds of the sloppy kiss fills your ear, you helplessly rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. His fingertips trailed down your chest, tracing small circles on the inside of your thigh before plunging down under your skirt, grazing the wet spot on your underwear. The both of you smile into the kiss. 

“Can I?” Hyunjin says, momentarily pulling away from your sweet lips and tugging on the edge of your panties. You nod shyly, not believing that this is happening. 

His lanky fingers run up and down your wet folds as you put your hand at the back of his neck, pulling his blushing face closer to yours and pursing your lips to kiss him sensually. Hyunjin’s fingers gently brush up against your clit that was swollen from excitement, sending shivers down your spine. 

You knew this was wrong, the door wasn’t even locked meaning that anyone could walk in at any moment but the way lips felt on yours made a thousand fireworks ignite, sparking from your chest. Wrapping your hand around his wide wrist, you guide his fingers down to your sopping entrace, your entire body craving him inside of you.

Hyunjin places once last peck on your soft lips before looking at you with concern, asking for permission with his fluffy brown eyes. You nod, your eyelashes gently fluttering over your eyes. His middle finger slips into you with ease, shortly followed by a second finger from seeing how good your cunt swallowed his digits, your essence coating them. A faint gasp escapes your lips as his fingers felt around your velvety walls, the whole situation still feeling like a dream. 

“D-does it feel good?” 

“mhm!” you hum, nodding your head as your grasp around his wrist tightens everytime he curls his fingers upwards. Small whimpers came from you as his fingers started pumping in and out, the blond boy chuckling at your reaction. 

“Did you think I was innocent?” 

The question lingers in the air as you look at him in the eyes.

“Y-yes,,,” just as the question you let the answer hang in the air as Hyunjin hummed, being knuckles deep into you and curling his fingers upwards once more, making you choke on your own moan. Hyunjin nodded slowly, glancing down at your body as he thought.

“It’s because,,, because you’re shy,, different from the others.” You added quickly, filling the silence that was soon interupted by your whimpers as the so called ‘innocent boy’ started circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. 

“I think you’re different from the others, you make me like this baby”

Hyunjin said, seconds later crashing his lips against yours, his tongue attacking yours. He retracted his fingers, the tips coated in your juices and glistening in the sunlight. You whined inbetween kisses, the feeling of being empty leaving you disappointed. Hyunjin’s veiny hands trailed up your stomach, pulling the croptop up and resting it just above your boobs, your white bra exposed. 

Hyunjin pulled away from the kiss, the both of you breathless as the kisses you exchanged were anything but light. His two damp fingers made their way to his mouth, licking them with a slight smirk on his lips. You could go crazy from the sight alone, his big brown eyes turning blank with lust. Not being able to control yourself any longer, you sat up on your knees and pulled off the top, unclasping your bra while you’re at it. As the fabric hit the floor, Hyunjin’s eyes darted to your bare tits, the wind from the air conditioner stiffening your two sensitive buds. You looked at him with a jumbled expression, him staring at your nipples for what seemed like an eternity. You hummed softly, causing him to snap back into reality, the blond boy pulling the black hoodie up from his head, displaying the defined muscles on his abdomen. You wanted him, you wanted him so bad. 

Your knees hit the floor with a thump as looked up at Hyunjin, knealing between his two legs and watching the tent in his loose shorts grow. 

“Do you really want to do this,, y/n,, you don’t have t-”

You hushed before speaking.

“Don’t worry, Hyunjin” you say with a stern voice making Hyunjin shiver, not knowing if it’s from your tone of voice or the way his name rolled of your tongue.

The blonde boy grabbed the small camera that was resting on the table, you looked up at him with confusion before smiling at his pleading eyes that met yours. You nodded, knowing exactly what he wanted to do and giving him permission since you never knew if he’d get to see you like this ever again. 

You hook your two hands on the sides of his shorts and underwear, pulling the fabric down as Hyunjin awkwardly lifts his hips up from the couch for a moment, allowing you to slide the both garments down in one nimble motion. His veiny length sprung out, the tip hitting his abdomen for a moment before resting infront of your eyes, a bead of precum already leaking from his delicate slit. You gulp, the task of sucking him off suddenly seeming daunting. Hyunjin must have noticed since his face turned concerned, a half smile flashing across his lips. 

“y/n,, you don’t have to-aghh!”

Hyunjin was cut of by his own breathy moan, your pursed lips wrapping around his leaking tip, licking small kitten licks before sinking deeper down his impressive length. Hyunjin’s blonde hair fell out of his face when his head rolled back in pleasure, resting it against the back of the rustic couch. 

“f-fuck y/n,,, just- just like that”

He hummed out, his sweet voice intoxicated with desire. Your tongue swirled around his pretty red tip, simultaneously stroking the part doesn’t fit inside of your wet mouth. Multiple shutters of the camera was heard, his hand barely stable enough to hold it due to the pleasure that was shooting through his core. It didn’t take long before his dick twitched against you lips, your cheeks hollowed as bob up and down his girth. His eyes rolled back into his skull as his hand went down to cup your cheek, your eyes stinging with tears as you choked around him. Pulling off with a pop, his dick glimmered as a heavy layer of saliva rested on it, his already warm body turning hotter. He looks down at you, a smug half-smile errupting on his lips as he continued to stroke your cheek, his thumb grazing your cheekbone as he flicked through the photos on his camera, the half-smile now a full on expression of happiness. The two of you sat like that for a while, the silence engulfing the room as you observed his indescribable features. His sharp jawline contrasted with his soft skin that had a dust of rose pink across the cheeks, his moles adding to his charm. 

“Fuck me, Hyunjin”

The words slipped out of your mouth, his brown shiny eyes widening before being overtaken by a blank gaze, placing the silver camera back on the tiny table. 

“You thought I would stop here?”

Now it was your turn to be flustered, his sugary sweet voice interlaced with the cocky words making you even wetter then before, if that’s even possible. Without answering, he pulled you up to the couch by your hand and laying you down before realising what he forgot. The blond boy reached for the baggy backpack laying on the white floor, unzipping the front pocket and fishing out a condom. You nodded shyly, feeling your hands getting sweatier from nervousness, not really sure where to put them. Hyunjin noticed your gaze that was running all over the room, your body slightly tense. The boy snickered, ripping the shiny wrapping open with his hands where veins had started to become apparent. 

“Something wrong?” He asks shyly, placing the condom on his leaking tip before rolling the rubber onto his length. You shake your head.

“J-just thinking,,,” you say, your voice fading out at the end. 

“About?” His voice inhibiting a questionable tone as he holds himself up above you, his elbows on either side of your head. 

“A-about,,, you” 

That was a lie. You thought about how this would end up being disclosed to your company and your friends, Felix would snap your head if he found out that you slept with Hyunjin. Did it even have to be disclosed? Couldn’t it just be a secret between you and Hyunjin? As much as you wish that it could, it simply couldn’t. Not working in this industry. 

Hyunjin smiled softly, his hand trailing down the curves of your body before lifting up the fabric of your skirt, his fingers pushing your panties aside and feeling your throbbing pussy once again. His caramel eyes looked into you the entire time. 

Lifting himself up, he positioned the tip of his member at your sopping entrance, you chuckling softly as he gripped your hips but your chuckle was quickly replaced by a loud gasp, his dick stretching out your tight pussy better than you thought. 

“Are you ok, y/n?” 

He said softly, his dick not even halfway in but already jerking from your welcomingly wet and warm cunt wrapping around his crimson tip. You nodded, looking up at him. 

“Pl-please,, keep going Hyunjin”

The blonde boy blushed, his ears turning red. Tightening the grip on your hips he fully entered you, you shutting your eyes tightly from the slightly painful but pleasurable experience. Glancing down at you, he had to use every bit of discipline to not pound into you. In his eyes you looked angelic. Your parted lips that we’re coated by saliva and the way your skirt bunched up around your waist made it feel like torture to be inside of you, not moving to let you adjust to his size. 

“C-can I move?” He asks impatiently to which you smile, nodding and wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer to your warm body. Your breath hitched as he softly wraps his hand around your neck, him thinking he’d gone too far.

“I-im sorry! I-” 

You hush him, placing your index finger over his plush pink lips. 

“I’ll tell you if anything doesn’t feel good, alright?” You so desperatly wanted to place a “baby” at the end of the sentence, that nickname fitted him but being to scared to confess your feelings. Just because he wants you doesnt mean he loves you. Hyunjin nodded like an excited puppy, finally getting the permission of moving and feeling your clenched walls around his length, his one hand still wrapped around your throat. 

His thrusts were slow, filled with passion which only worsened your longing for him, the longing of him being yours. Small whimpers dripped from between your parted lips, the moans being mixed with Hyunjin’s low grunts and sounding like a melody. You peeked up at the model-like boy, his expression being synonymous to pleasure. The movements eventually quickened, his long cock hitting your cervix with every thrust, making you put your hands behind his back, your fingernails digging into his soft honey skin. His previously closed eyes fluttered open, watching you with a soft gaze through his fierce eyes. You smiled and he smiled back before his gaze drifted away from yours.

“Y-you feel so good y-y/n,,, you’re an angel”

Chuckling and moaning at the same time, his praise gave you a sense of security but also a sense of lust, wanting to coax out even more dangerously sweet words from his pretty mouth. 

“Go faster,,, Hyunjin”

You gasped out, the pleasure starting to pick up it’s pace. The sound of skin slapping against each other bounced off the white walls in the big studio, the old sofa creaking ever so often from the blond boys powerful thrusts. Hyunjin would never get tired of hearing you say his name, never. 

The knot in your stomach signaled your impending orgasm as your walls were stretched out. You pleaded him to not stop, your voice sounding frail as you neared your sweet release. The hot tempeture wasn’t helping the situation, sweat beading underneath Hyunjins headband, soaking the two strands of blonde locks that hanged infront of his face. 

“F-fuck,, y/n you’re so pretty with my hands wrapped around your throat, fuck-” 

A loud groan escaped his lips, the pleasure of your wet pussy against his rock-hard length getting too much, Hyunjin having to hold back until you came, not wanting to appear selfish. It wasn’t long until you felt your legs shaking around him, your toes curling as the squeaky sound from the couch increased along with the speed of Hyunjin’s thrusts, the rubber not giving him as much intimacy as he would have liked but the visual of you lying beneath him, squirming away from bliss and softly moaning made up for it. 

“I think- i think I’m cumming, s-shit Hyunjin, I’m cumming”

The words spilled from you, quickly followed by a incoherent mumbling of his name before a wave of hot flashed through your entire body, your walls clenching around him as your erotic juices coated his twitching cock. You held your hands against your face that was lightly coated with sweat but before you could come down from your high Hyunjin pinned your hands above your head by your wrists, him letting out a growl before his cum filled the tip of the condom. The both of you rode out your powerful orgasm, your moans softening as the intense feeling subsided, Hyunjin shivering with his last thrust before pulling out. 

The light sound of the air conditioner was now accompanied with heavy panting, your chest heaving as Hyunjin softly pulled down your skirt and ran his hand through his blonde hair, pushing the stray hairs away before rolling off the cumfilled condom and throwing it on the floor, the rubber landing on the dark clothing that were pooling next to the leather couch. The young boy lays down beside you, your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you faded away in a million thoughts, still trying to process what just happened. You turned your head against his, feeling his lingering gaze on your face and you swore you could hear your heart beat in your ears as his cheekbones lifted, his now cherry red lips turning into a soft smile. 

“Do you like me?” 

You choked on your own saliva, coughing and sitting up in panic making Hyunjin worry, him patting you on the back as he sat up next to you. 

“I-im sorry,, I shouldn’t have- y/n,, so-sorry”

He mutters out as you start laughing, he looking confused at your chuckling figure. 

“T-that’s,,, quite the direct question” you say, clearing your throat before continuing. “I don’t know Hyunjin. You know that this isn’t possible”

You saw his previously twinkling eyes turn blank, his heart sinking. 

“Uhm,,, n-no totally not,,, I just said it to-”

He tried to play cool, brushing off the fact that he didn’t get the answer he so longed for. His gaze turning away from your angelic face.

“But I like you”

You spoke quietly, your voice cracking at the end. Hyunjin turned back to you.

“Why wouldn’t it work then?” he asked with a confused voice. You sighed

“Hyunjin, do you not know who you are? We fucked in a building where you own half of the rights, you work with famous people and your work is in every magazine, don’t you understand?”

He stayed silent for a while, comtemplating on what to say before grabbing your clammy hand. 

“Do you only see me for my career?”

You shake your head, trying to catch eye contact with the blonde boy but failing as he stares down at your small hand in his grasp. 

“Hyunjin, I love you but this feels way to quick,,, I can’t just-”

“I’ve known about you for a while, y/n. Do you know why we even worked together in the first place?” 

Hyunjin speaks calmly, a thin string of sadness threading through his voice. You shake your head, looking at him but he looking away.

“I reached out to Bangchan first”

You weren’t surprised, only confused. What did he see in you? 

“I know it might seem,, rushed! But if- if we both like each other then we can make it work. Please don’t worry about our reputations, you are more than your career y/n even if it means the world to you.”

Hyunjin hesitated finishing his sentence, feeling sick to his stomach from the fear of rejection. You withdrew your hand, instead opening your arms and hugging him to which he smiled and hugged you back, the both of you falling back on the couch facing each other. 

“I think I love you,,, like,,, I really love you”

Hyunjin brushed away a strand of hair from your face, his tender eyes meeting yours. 

“And I love you too, y/n”

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie​ @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette​ @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo @fleeingreality​​​​​​​ @nycol-ie @jisungsplatforms @p0t4t0don14ll @skzstanlol

[another-bryk-in-the-wall]

White dress and bloodstains - A Joseph Seed fanfiction

Warning: mental health issues, character death, the usual Joseph Seed warnings

Don’t like, don’t read, don’t come crying into my inbox.

*

27 days, 3 hours and 51 minutes ago.

27 days, 3 hours and 51 minutes ago, Joseph’s life changed for the worst. The call from the hospital, the shaky words from the receptionist telling him to come over, to say goodbye to the woman he loves. He couldn’t remember the drive, everything was a blur until he stepped into the ICU. And there she laid, wrapped in a hospital gown, a grey shade covering her skin already.

“I am sorry, Mr. Seed”, the doctor next to him let out a sigh as she looked at Joseph’s wife. “She is only kept alive by the machines. There is nothing we can do for her anymore. Say your goodbyes.”

“What about…”, Joseph croaked out, feeling choked by the weight of the world on him, gripping him by the throat, ready to rip it all out. All the happiness, all the love he felt deep inside of his heart, life was taking it back by brutal force. Ripping his throat out, shoving its arm down his airway to grab his heart, pulling it right out and shitting down the open hole. That was life doing to him once again. Because why would there be any right for him to be happy for a prolonged period of time?

“Your daughter’s in the next room. She’s weak right now, but she’s a fighter. I am sure she’ll pull through it, Mr. Seed.”, the nurse answered the unasked question. With those words she also left the room to give Joseph space to say goodbye.

Joseph stepped closer to Faith, his Faith, getting a glimpse of her limp body. Her breathing was shallow, her heartbeat barely existing anymore. “I am so sorry baby. I should have never let you go there. I should have been with you. I should have saved you. I love you Faith, and I’ll always do”, and the moment Joseph took her hand, her heartbeat raised for two or three beats before fainting out of existence. 

*

A week later, Joseph was able to enter the nursery again - without breaking down in tears the instant he smelt the paint and baby powder. The teddy bears seemed to frown at him, no smiles left in the room of sadness. But what could he do with the stuff in there anymore? There was no baby to be had, no mother to sit in the rocking chair to sing her daughter to sleep, no father to walk around while his baby had dry colic, humming to her and rubbing her tummy to make the pain go away. No shared laughter to be had, no sleepless nights - at least not caused by a crying baby.

The stares of the stuffed animals were haunting him, so Joseph left the room.

The bedroom felt so cold without the warmth of Faith in it. She always loved the room to be warm even in the hottest summer. How she could cuddle into a blanket while it was 100 Fahrenheit outside had been a mystery for Joseph forever. Now he missed the hotness, instead filled with the cold of a lover gone.

Joseph opened the closet doors, greeted by the clothes with no owner. Something caught his eye - Faith’s favourite dress. It was designed by her, it was white with flowers and golden accents embroidered. Oh, how proud she was of her work, grinning ear to ear when she modeled it to Joseph for the first time. How she twirled around in it, giggling as she sat on his lap to show him all the little details she added to the fabric, hours upon hours spent poking her own fingers to make something so perfect.

Joseph took one last close look at it before putting it back into the closet.

*

“How can I help you, Sir?”, the girl at the counter of the charity shop asked with a smile. Joseph was holding a box, tucked right under his arm, filled to the brim with things he had no use for anymore.

“I’d like to make a donation.”, Joseph answered as he placed the box on the counter, making the clerk get on her tippy toes to poke inside. Her curiosity was met with unworn baby clothes, diapers for weeks, baby powder and a few stuffed animals.

“Oh. I am sorry Sir.”, she replied, not too sure of what to say. The box and its content spoke more than a thousand words, but her spoken words couldn’t heal the deep scars in Joseph’s heart.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t meant to be, but God will show me the way.”, Joseph sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep himself from breaking into tears right in this shop. “God always has a way for me.” 

The girl wasn’t sure of what to do or what to say as she saw his eyes fill up with tears, close to sobbing his heart out. “Hey, can I do something for you, Sir? I can make you a cup of tea in the back. I also have some tissues there.”

They stayed until the shop was closed, Joseph telling his story to the girl. She was barely old enough to drink but listened to him, her eyes locked on his lips and the words falling from them. As if something pulled her towards him.

This was the moment Joseph noticed that he could talk. But not just talk as in a normal conversation - no, he could talk and influence people. They would listen to him for hours, in a hex caused by his ways with words. What a revelation, Joseph thought to himself as he walked through the empty streets of his home town, the Voice always by his side. The girl had given him her phone number with the request to keep her up to date on his well being. But not too many texts please, as they were very expensive on her phone plan.

She’d turn into his first Faith.

*

“Why did you do this to me?”, Joseph cried out as the blood ran down his chest, pooling at the waistband of his sweatpants. “What sin have I committed to deserve this pain?! Tell me! TELL ME!”, his cries could be heard for miles as he roared towards the sky.

As he scratched deeper into his chest, even more blood poured out of the wounds, the clear signs of his desperation. “Why her? Why not me! She deserved to live! They both deserved to live! Why are you making me do this!?”

His hands were covered in blood as the tears streamed over his cheeks, down his neck. Snot tickled over his upper lip, making breathing even harder than it already was. God had taken everything from Joseph. He knew he’d have to suffer to build what God wanted from him - but why test him and his loyality towards God even more than he already did? Wasn’t losing his blood related family enough pain for at least one life time?

In his desperation, Joseph reached over to his phone, the blood on his fingers making it hard to get a grip on it. He typed in the number he had dialed so many times. So many times he had called her just to hear her voice when he wasn’t doing well, to hear her talk about her day at work when they couldn’t be together.

Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now.. I’m busy growing our little sprout, so leave me a message! God bless!

But this time, Joseph didn’t leave a message.

[internalsealpanic]

Death Cannot Take You

Summary: You died. You should have died, yet here you are having the audacity to still be walking. 

A/n: This is semi abandoned old guard au. I made it for 3 reasons. 1) I love Old Guard. 2) I love writing resurrection scenes cus it makes my brain calm. 3) This is a poly that I am desperate for.  

Warning: Violence, kidnapping, terrible explanations, and blatant disregard for patient care. 

The world shook violently as it staggered into view— blotchy patches of fluorescent lights and rough textures. Drowning the heavy scrape of metal is a chorus of thumping and ringing in your ears. Your hands fly to the seat in front of you, cold metal pressed against hot skin as the train rattles on. It makes your stomach lurch, dredging out its contents. 

Crumpled in your seat, you heave a ragged breath. You retch, the contents of your stomach burning in your esophagus. You screw your eyes shut unable to take another long gulp of air; it stung to breathe in the piss heavy air. You need to breathe. You need the oxygen. You need your mind in working order. Sucking in a greedy lungful, you cough it out, body rejecting it. 

There was a heat.

A pulse. 

A pistol.

A laugh. 

You can remember the wetness of saliva and blood and tears on your face as the warmth bled out of your fingertips. 

It was cold. 

It was so cold. 

Your heartbeat picks up. It’s getting harder to breathe. Your windpipe is closing. The world is getting smaller. The bones in your hands are rattling. 

A cry pries itself out of your chest, tearing its way out of your mouth. They’re not stopping. They’re still laughing. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

Please god, no. 

With another violent rattle, your consciousness slips. 

You’re cold again. Shadows grasp at the corners of your vision. The world is blotchy— a patch of tangling threads. 

The alley smells of piss and garbage. The smell is thick enough to make you choke. Your heart had stopped a while ago. No, your mind did. No, it was your heart you’re sure. No, no. It was his heart that stopped. 

It’s cold. Someone is crying out for you. It’s your father. You’re scared. Your blue eyes are fading in color. You’ve faced death before— No, not you. He has. He’s faced death always with a smile but now with his heart at a complete stand still he’s sure this is it. He’s sure this is how he dies. It isn’t on the trapeze or because of some cookie plan made by a costumed nut case. Your— his heart stops. 

He died. 

So did he. There’s another man. He’s lying on the battlefield. The sky is so pretty. You can hear canonfire. There’s another man beside him. He’s dying too. Your fair hair is matted red. Your— his flesh is reknitting itself. It’s— The whole in his— your stomach is closing the whole in it.  You’re gasping for breath. The alley doesn’t stink of piss and garbage; it smells like cotton fields and summer heat. 

He died.

You died. 

There’s a buzzing in the air— the thrum of electricity as it writhes in the wires. Bouncing your leg, you wait for the receptionist to call your name. Anxiety sings in your veins like a chorus of scraping metal. 

You don’t remember what happened last night— not clearly. 

It’s all a melting pot of images and voices and touches. 

You cup your hand over your mouth, the stomach acid burning its way up your esophagus. Your tongue is tacky with dried saliva and the lingering taste of copper. They’re laughing. They’re all still laughing. The ringing in your ears won’t stop. 

You fold. Legs curl up into your chest as you dip your head under. Eyes sliding shut, you let the darkness pool in your mind. The vague sounds in the emergency room coalescing into a discordant symphony. You let yourself dream again. 

You lift your head up slowly, colors bleeding into view. The words don’t make sense. 

“Kid, are you ok?” 

You regard the large man with the open—mouthed confusion of a fish. He’s handsome in a rough sort of way— grisled with a full beard, cropped hair, and gunmetal blue eyes— eye. He’s got an eye patch. You swallow. Your lungs inflate as they inhale the sterile scent of the room. The smell of hand sanitizer is too thick. He’s tall. You crane your neck to look up at him. It hurts. He must easily be 6’3”, maybe even taller. His chest is broad and through the shirt, he’s wearing you can see the expanse of taut well—defined muscles. His lips are curved up at one side in a lopsided smirk. Your head is pounding. You shut your eyes, vigorously nodding your head. You know what he’s staring at. You know what his eyes— eye— are trained on. 

You… You haven't changed. The crisp white shirt you’d worn to your job is dark and wrinkly with dried blood.  You hate it. You hate how uncharacteristically messy you look; it makes you feel off—model, like something that is a cluttered version of you.  

You curl up again. This time the ringing in your ears blocks out everything else.  Your head dips back into the dark. It’s cold and stuffy and your ears were ringing when they—

Your eyes fly open and there’s a figure in front of you. You squint. The figure is smaller, less broad; a nursing assistant with kind eyes stands over you with a clipboard. You breathe. You turn your head to the man from before. He’s standing next to a man— younger, shorter. He looks dwarfed next to the other man but he’s average height and it would be funny if you had the energy. You’re far enough away that you can’t be sure of his features but it’s not hard to tell that he’s pretty.  He’s got rich brown skin, black hair, and a gymnast’s poise. He’s familiar. Both of them are. They’re talking to the police. You freeze.  

Are they here for you? Who are they?

“I need you to follow me back into the ER,” she says gently, grip firmly grasping your shoulder. You run your hand through your matted hair. Your hand comes back slick and sticky with sweat and dried blood. The oxygen in your lungs stutters. You feel another squeeze on your shoulder.  You’re back. You’re not whole but you’re back. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, legs wobbling beneath you as you stand. 

You follow her. It’s faint but you can feel someone follow you as you disappear into the hall with her. 

The walk to the hall was peaceful. It was steadying. It’s the talk with the doctor that’s putting you on edge.  He’s tapping his pen on the clipboard. Your mind writhes with every tap. Sighing, you rub your eyes and try to push the sensations away. “I— I’m so sorry. I’m just. It’s my mind. I just can’t—” you breathe “—I can talk. I’m sorry.” You wave vaguely. 

“Alright tell me what happened.”

You swallow. Your trachea still feels splintered. “I—” breathe “—I was cornered. In an alley. Behind a butcher shop. I was trying to take a short cut—” he taps a pen against the board "— I was attacked." You finish, fingers tracing up the length of your throat. Attacked was too quick a word. Attacked was the kind of word you used for the quick in and out of a knife— the split second bite of a bullet.  You weren’t attacked. You were— what happened to you felt like an eternity. 

Shuffling, he looks you over. There's a prickle in the back of your neck. There's someone watching you. Your eyes flick. There's the young man. His eyes are a warm tropical blue. He waves at you. He looks uneasy. The man from before is trying not to pay attention.  Your legs swing, almost clipping the doctor's clipboard. The doctor frowns at you but you shrug. 

"You don't seem to have been injured." 

You blink. "That's not possible," you say, hands shaking,"they had me for hours." No that wasn't true. At most they had you for an hour or maybe two but that didn’t matter not at the bite of the bullet, not at the slice of flesh, not at the impact of the bat. 

"I need you to breathe," the doctor instructs, placing a hand on your back; it tenses. You go rigid. He pulls back muttering about x—rays and brain scans. 

Catching his lab coat in a death grip, you beg: "Please don't leave me." 

"Ma'am, you're perfectly safe here." 

They will find you. 

He thinks you're hysterical. You know that from the way he looks at you, like a caged animal. "We have security personnel if need be," he assures, none—too—gently prying his coat from your grip. "We'll close the curtain if that makes you feel safe and there are hospital gowns in the closet if you'd like to change." 

You nod quietly. 

You slowly peel off your shirt. The cool air stings. You suck in a breath. You think of the dream you had. That man's heart stopping. The press of lips. The bite of metal against skin. You look down at your skin— no bruises, no cuts, nothing. 

You're scared. 

You know these memories aren't fully yours. 

You hear the door slide open. Your knee jerk reaction is to be embarrassed. You're in your underwear. Pulling on a gown, you're ready to snarl at the intruder. Your heart stops. It's the man from before. 

"Did they take a blood sample from you yet?" He asks, closing the curtain behind him. 

His gaze is unyielding as he makes slow predatory strides towards you. You flatten yourself against the wall. "No— I— what?" 

"Good." 

"What—" There's a sharp pain in the side of your head. There's blood trickling down the side of your  head. Your vision is fading.

Falling forward, you grasp your blood tacky hands at his shirt.  You feel weightless. You're on his shoulder. 

"Who are you?" 

"You'll find out." 

The desert sand billows as a gust of wind blows through the dunes. You’re searching for someone. Your friend. His friend not yours. He’s somewhere. He’s being held prisoner. You’ve kept him waiting long enough. 

 You turn your head and the scene shifts. 

There’s a sky full of lights above you, glittering. You can’t tell if they’re man made or not. You reach out to them. Your hands aren’t yours. You squint. Your hands are dark and calloused— covered in sawdust. There’s a terrible shape in your stomach. You’re scared but that’s not new. There’s always a little fear when you go on the trapeze. 

You shift under the cover, limbs wrapped around a pillow.  The smell of freshly roasted coffee is heavy in the air. You burrow your face more into the pillow. Mark can wake you up—

"And you thought kidnapping her was the solution?!" 

You wince at the tone. Shuffling your limbs quitely out of the covers, you press yourself to the wall, peaking over the corner just a fraction— just enough to see two men arguing. The taller man with white hair facing the hall opening into the sleeping area. 

“It was.”

“Slade, you can’t just go kidnapping people!” the younger man shouts, his face red while his arms waved all over the place. Slade, you assumed,  stood impassively, but his arms were now crossed over his chest in a defensive manner. 

“I just did.”

The younger man runs his hand over his face and through his hair, ruffling it in frustration. “She’s going to be terrified when she wakes up.”

You are. Your eyes flick to the window. You could escape.  You're in a motel room you realize. If they’re distracted enough, you could make it out. 

“Well, Kid, it looks like you’re right.”

“Of course, I am—”

You look up. The two men are looking in your direction. Should you go back to the bed and pretend to be asleep? Is there any point? Just make a run for it. 

You sprint only to hit what feels like a brick wall. You stagger back but what feels like a metal band wraps around your waist.  The next thing you know is that you feel weightless. 

“Slade, put her down! You’re going to give her a heart attack.”

“Relax, kid, it’s not like it’s gonna kill her.” Your body is dropped unceremoniously on the bed. You bounce a couple of times before your body settles against the soft sheets. Scrambling back against the headboard, you look between the two men trying to  decide what to do. You place a pillow in front of you as a shield. The pounding of your heart is loud in your ears that you don’t think you’ll be able to hear anything that comes out of your mouth. 

“I’m broke,” you finally manage. You turn to the younger man. “My roommate is broke too.” He gives you a confused furrow in his brow. “We can’t afford ransom. You won’t get anything, so please just… just let me go. I won’t tell the police. I promise.” Folding your legs behind the pillow, you press yourself into the headboard further.  The young man sighs and slumps. “We don’t want money.” You stiffen, keenly aware that save for the flimsy protection of the hospital gown, you’re only in your underwear. He seems to realize what you’d concluded. 

 Slade snorts. “Way to go, kid.”

“Yeah, thanks for the help, asshole.”

“I have done nothing wrong.”

“Ah, yes. Aside from kidnaping her you mean,” he snarls. You swallow loudly, trying to keep the bile down. The younger man turns to you, the impressive glare he was sporting slides way too easily into concern. His body rolls into a different shape; it’s the kind of posture you’ve used when comforting your younger sibling.  He lowers himself on the bed slowly. He reaches out a hand. Carefully, he says “We won’t hurt you.”

And you want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him. 

“Real convincing, Grayson.” Slade sneers as he watches your recoil from Grayson’s outstretched hand. Grayson levels another glare at Slade who simply huffs and shrugs. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. Please let me go.” You croak. 

Grayson looks at you helplessly. “(Y/n)... We can’t...”

“You died last night.” Slade says. Nothing in his tone suggests a question. It’s just a statement. No room for doubt. 

You blink, nose scrunching. “I— I was mugged.” You cover your face with your hands. You’re pretty positive that you’d remember being murdered and you say as much. You got cornered by three to four gang members and they mugged you. That was it. 

Your stomach rebels at the thought. 

Grayson gives you that pitying look again. He pries your hands from your face, blue eyes bearing down at you with so much concern. His touch is so gentle that you almost cry. “Sweetheart, think about it.”

You shake your head trying to pull your hand away from him. He doesn’t let you. Your head is throbbing. You’re scared and confused and you’re starting to feel anger prickle under your skin.  “I think I would know if I died, asshole,” you snarl and the shift in tone catches them both off guard. 

Slade sighs. There’s a flash of metal and a gunshot. The pain radiates from the middle of your stomach; it’s sharp. Some small, shrill sound escapes you.  You’re gasping as you look at him again. He’s looking at a watch. It looks expensive. It’s funny how even  during death your mind finds a way to procrastinate. 

“It’s taking a little while. Of all the inconveniences, why is it so slow the first few times?”Slade mutters in a voice that would sound right at home in a self checkout line. His shoe is tapping against the rug. You wonder if that’s expensive too. 

“Why would you shoot her?” Grayson demands, shooting up from his spot on the bed. The loss of weight jostles the bed. You wince. 

You look down. Something strange is happening. Your flesh like cloth is reknitting, leaving the seamless expanse of your stomach. 

You look back up, eyes blown wide and frantic. You pat your stomach, hand coming away with a thin film of blood but the strange tingling you get when you’re expecting to feel something but you don’t. The bullet hole wasn’t there. It just wasn’t. 

A sprawl of frantic horror lives down the line of your sternum. It was the kind of amorphous energy you get when something doesn’t make sense, when something just shouldn’t have happened— a sort of odd dislocation in the universe. 

Grayson holds his hands up in a placating manner as he sits back down on the bed. He’s careful not to jostle you but you barely notice.  You think his hands look familiar.  Your— his calloused hands reach out to you. “You need to trust us.”

“You. Just. Shot. Me.”

“Correction, he shot you.”

Slade rolls his eye. “Ah yes, kid, very helpful.” 

“It’s an important distinction.”

“Fine!” You point to Slade. “You shot me.” You point to Grayson. “You. Let. Him.”

“Sweetheart, I appreciate that you think I have any control over that brute,” Grayson says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, “but I have about as much control over that brute as I do over a storm. ”

Unamused, you throw a pillow at Grayson hard enough that he almost topples over the edge. You grab another pillow and Grayson raises the pillow you threw at him in defense. You can see the smile in his eyes; it makes the acid behind your teeth boil. All embarrassment and horror bleed out to give way to anger as you throw the pillow at him with the same ferocity as before. Slade snatches the pillow midair saving Grayson from having to deflect it. Grayson gives him a smile that looks like an insincere apology. Slade, like you, seems unconvinced and pushes your discarded pillow into Grayson’s fine—boned face. It does nothing to wipe the grin off his face but you feel a little better knowing you’re not the only one who has to endure him. 

You fight the urge to laugh but  not too hard. The chords of your muscles come loose and for the first time in what feels like an age, you feel tired. “I’m dead. I died. Then you shot me… And then you shot me. WHAT THE HELL?” You say, the accusation directionless. You were supposed to die on a smoking heap of trash, gutted and pathetic. Hands falling limply to your sides, you let your mind go through that a dozen times because, well, how does one process their own death and undeath? You shouldn't still be here. 

"What’s happening to me?" 

"She's acting far more reasonable than you did." Slade teases. 

Grayson scowls at him, slapping him with the pillow. Slade just kind of grunts clearly less hurt than annoyed. Considering the solid wall of muscle the man is sporting, you wouldn’t be surprised if it would take nothing short of a brick to hurt him. "YOU SHOT ME IN THE HEAD THEN SHOT ME THROUGH THE STOMACH." 

“I only shot you in the stomach because the bullet through your head didn’t get through your thick skull.”

You’re one missed heartbeat away from laughing. Your brows shoot up, limp limbs coming back to life as you curl in on yourself again. What have you gotten yourself into?

"Oh my god, I mean— Shit!" Slade snorts as Grayson flails. Grayson puts his hand in his face, groaning. “Sorry about that… Slade is terrible at explanations.”

Slade makes a noise in the back of his throat. It sounds like a laugh and twitch of his lip would suggest so but you're still second guessing yourself. "You're one to talk Mr. We Won't Hurt You." The air fills with Slade's amusement as Grayson’s cheeks flush. It's funny how easily pretty shifts to adorable. 

You sigh raking your hand through your hair. It's been an exceptionally long day. "What’s happening to me?" You whine mostly to yourself. "I'm not a meta. I think I would know if I was something like that… Right?" You look up at Grayson who just gives you a complicated expression. "You know what's going on don't you?" You say, crawling closer to Grayson. He shifts a bit, keeping his eyes straight. Grayson blinks and runs his hand through his hair, collecting his scattered thoughts. He leans back, putting a bit of space between you as he speaks. "We got off on the wrong foot," he says extending a hand to you, "the name's Dick—”

“Are you sure?” and Slade laughs at your question. Grayson— Dick (is that really his name?) looks tired like he’s heard this question a million times. “Yes, I’m sure about my name.” You feel a little bad but not enough to actually say anything that even comes close to an apology. “Anyway,” Dick (?) continues,”the grumpy old man over there is Slade. We’re sort of in the same boat as you.”

The last line makes you pause. You think back to your dreams, the quick flashes of sensations. Oh. That was— Oh. Your stomach feels like lead. You watched them— Oh. 

“I’m sorry.” you say, at a loss of what else to say. Death was an intimate thing. You guessed that only the dead or the previously dead would know that. You fold your hands on your lap as you sit back on your legs, a primm gesture that made you feel solid and a bit more like yourself than you had in hours. 

Dick’s warm blue eyes are wide. He goes still for a moment taking in what you’d just said. His head shakes and he smiles at you, an expression that is weightless. It made you think of the trapeze. “It’s ok,” he assures you, warm hand on yours, “it’s not your fault… Anyway!” You use the very sarcastic brows you’ve been given to convey your concern about the neck snapping shift in tone. Dick looks at you sheepish, hand rubbing the back of his neck before deciding to soldier on.  “We don’t know why but some individuals are brought back to life and are made immortal. We’ve— I’ve got a few working theories but—”

“Immortal.” You repeat, trying to make the concept make sense. 

“We, now including you, don’t die, kid.” Slade deadpans. 

“Thanks. I’ve read a dictionary.” You say, eyes flicking to your very much intact stomach. Dick laughs, the sound high and breezy. He tries to stifle it but even the hand cupped over his mouth couldn’t contain the sound. Slade’s long leg stretches to give Dick a not so light kick. This does nothing but increase the volume of his laughter.  You look back up at them. “So, what does my latest existential crisis have to do with either of you?”

“Well for one,” Slade says, standing up, “we can’t have you running around with a millenia old secret without even attempting to teach you how to disappear first.” This is what gets your stomach to rebel. Bile is climbing up your throat. Dick, quick as a whip, holds a trash can out for you. You put your hand in front of you. You hold out your hand to stop him, not even sure if you had anything in your stomach aside from acid. 

You had just started getting your life back together and then this. Shaking your head, you try to break the thought down into more manageable pieces before swallowing it. “Ok. ok. That makes sense. I guess.”

Dick pulls back still looking concerned. “You are taking this alarmingly well.”

You stare at him. Your stomach rolls again. "Do I have a choice?" You ask from behind your hand. 

Slade huffs, "she's right, kid."

"Is he just gonna keep calling us kid or..." 

"Considering he's got 700 years on the both of us?" Dick laughs like he didn't just hit you with a ton of bricks.

"Ah, so he's a museum piece. Got it." You deadpan and you're rewarded with another roll of laughter from Dick. Slade grunts but doesn't protest much more than that. You turn your focus to Dick. "So how old are you?"

"A lady never tells," Dick says, crows feet wrinkling at the corners of his eyes. You blow air between your lips. "Lemme guess, you're like 2000 years old."

Dick makes a noise; it sounds offended. You don't much care, finally feeling a smile creeping on to your face. It doesn't hurt when you do not like everything else right now. That fact would be almost uncomfortable if you weren't so weary.

Folding your knees against your chest, you squish your face against your arms. "No seriously, old man. How old are you?"

"You're persistent." Dick hums.

"I want to know if I can cite you for my thesis on ancient greek culture."

Dick shakes his head. "You're better off citing him."

"Sadly, he's right Grayson is just a mere 27 years old."

You blink. He's— He's around your age. You breathe. "Ok so I'm not alone. Great."

"You're not," Slade says, "he was much harder to deal with."

"Do I have to keep mentioning that you shot me twice?" Dick asks crossing his arm sover his chest.

"Are you ever going to stop bringing it up?"

"When it stops working."

"It ever started."

From their banter, they're familiar with each other. The tiredness from before ebbs back in. You feel alone. Out of habit, you bury your head against your knees.  There is something comforting about the stillness.

A warm hand settles on your shoulder. You jolt up, knocking the back of your skull against the headboard. It makes a loud thunk against the wall. Dick winces, pulling his hand away from you. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine." You lied  still seeing stars.

 They look unconvinced. You don't quite care. "You look like you need a good meal."

"Or a hot shower," Slade suggests. 

You think it over, hand on your stomach brain still looking for the bullet wound. Eyes flicking between both, you lick your lips before saying: "I'll take you up on that shower." Your eyes drift back down to your arms, concentrating on the small details, the imperfections you've gathered through the years. The thought that you won't be able to add more doesn't really register like it should.

Dick nods getting up to grab something.  "I might need a couple of minutes in there," you say absently. 

"Take all the time you need." Dick says handing you a towel and a fresh shirt. You accept them with a small nod, carefully peeling yourself away from the bed.  Your eyes go into a tunnel vision, only focused on the door to the shower. 

You stop, a hand gripping your wrist. The pressure is solid and reassuring. You turn back to see Dick, biting his cheek."It'll get better I promise."

You give Dick a crooked smile. "I'll probably feel a lot better when I'm not covered in blood."

"That always helps," Slade says flatly. 

"You'd know."

"You really wanna scare her more right now?"

"It's just way too easy with you around."

"Please save the other world shattering revelations after my shower," You whine pulling the towel to your chest. 

"Can't promise that." Slade says with a rumble that just radiates bastard. 

You blow out a breath, raising a middle finger  over your shoulder. It was a rude gesture you'd never normally even consider but it felt appropriate at this moment.

"Hope you don't mind pizza." Dick says already dialing the number.

You stop leaning against the door, face squished against the frame. "What kind?"

"Hnnnnn... I figure you would like ham and mushrooms." 

With amusement, you note how Slade blanches quietly behind Dick. You quietly question both of their maturities. "how'd you figure oh wise ancient one?"

"Please don't ask him that."

"Why not? I'm curious to see how his mind works."

"You're going to regret that."

You cock your brow as Dick draws himself up. He reminds you of a pitcher winding up. "Because I'm a fun—guy, get it?"

Slade groans, hand on his face and for once he looks like an old man not like a terrifying wall of intimidation. 

"You're right. I do regret it," you say, stifling a laugh,"anyway, if you'll excuse me, the shower is calling my name. You two love birds have fun."

Slade sits beside Dick, an arm wrapping around his waist. "You heard the lady. She told us to have fun," Slade rumbles into Dick's ear only loud enough for you to hear. You flush. Realization hitting you like a truck. The color of Dick's face mimicking yours as he shoves Slade's face away. That warm shower will now be a cold one, you think as you awkwardly shuffle into the bathroom.

Instead of a shower, you elected for a nice soak. You're too weary and rung out and you hadn't seen a decent bath tub in a few years so you took the chance. It's not like an infection from the tub could kill you, right? 

You step out of the bathroom feeling refreshed if not a bit cold from your shirt. Dick's shirt was big but it stopped shy of your thighs. You couldn't really complain. You were just happy to get out of the blood soaked clothes.

You pad your way into the room and eyes are instantly on you. Slade quite blatantly stares at the curve of your ass as it peaks out from under your shirt. You think of scolding him but decide to leave that up to Dick who… is also staring at you… in the same area. He has the decency to look embarrassed when you catch him. Clearing his throat, Dick answers the knock on the door which just adds another set of eyes on you.

A poor pimple faced kid stands frozen at the door, slack jawed. His eyes dart around the room, frantically looking for a camera or something. You sigh. You too could see how this could be a lazy set up to a porn. You’re slightly flattered at the idea that you could be astronomically hot enough to be in a porn with either of these two but you’re more worried about the kid having to deal with a boner while he delivers pizzas. Dick, incredibly oblivious to the problem, seems to take his time looking for his wallet. 

Slade, not oblivious to the problem, makes his way to the poor kid, looking as imposing as possible as he hands the kid a fifty. Whatever arousal the kid felt at the moment floods out of him along with any color in his face. 

You snort plopping on to the bed and crossing your leg over the other and you watch as the men’s eyes widen as they trace the expanse of skin. This is the closest you will ever be to a bond girl.

Slade slams the door in the kids face, not even bothering with the change. Dick rolls his eyes with a crooked smile playing on his lips. “She hasn’t been with us for a day and you’re already acting possessive,” Dick laughs, patting Slade’s chest as he walks past. 

Dick plops on the bed next to you. You press your cheek into his shoulder as he opens the box. The smell of greasy cheese and canned vegetables floods your nostrils in a concert of sweet, unhealthy goodness. Your stomach rumbles and your hand darts down to get a piece. Your hand jerks back as your skin tingles from the heat. 

“Sorry, love, you can still feel pain.” Dick says, puckering his face as he blows the rising steam away. As if to be contrary, Slade grabs the largest slice and immediately takes a bite. You turn to Dick, raising a brow to ask. “Him? He’s just a weirdo.” Dick answers, grabbing his own slice.  You roll your eyes grabbing your own slice. 

Dick’s trying hard not to stare at your legs but ends up staring at your lips instead.  “Do you have any spare pants?” You ask around a mouthful of pizza. 

“I’ll get it,” Slade says before Dick can even stumble out a response, “clearly wonder boy hadn’t thought this through.” 

You hum around another mouthful in agreement and Dick just looks at you betrayed. You uncross and recross your legs to prove your point. 

Shifting away from Dick and swallowing the last bit of your pizza, you take the pants Slade offers you and you’re not at all surprised that it doesn’t fit right. “Any chance I can go back to my apartment? Even just for clothes?”   

“Sadly no.”

“Should I ask?”

“Do you really feel like talking to cops right now, kid?”

“Yanno, you’re gonna have to distinguish between us at some point,” Dick huffs, opening a can of soda,”and she’s right we do need to get her new clothes.” He hands you a can. Not feeling parched, you just roll it in your palm feeling the need to indulge in the feeling on cool metal. You catch yourself before you tuck your legs against your chest again. 

“I don’t see why you’re so hell bent on this, kid 1. You clearly like seeing her in your clothes.” Slade says, flatly the way you’d read out the summary of a particularly boring movie summary, probably based on a Nicholas Sparks novel. 

“You think adding a number is enough effort to distinguish us?” Dick sneers, trying to distract from the flush of his cheeks. 

“Would you prefer I call you ‘Sport’?”

“Dick, for both of our sake’s please accept being called Sport.”

“No!”

“How about ‘Chum’?”

Dick’s nose wrinkles at the name. You’re not sure if it’s the name itself, the way it rolls off of Slade’s tongue, or something to do with your dream.  You don’t know Dick well enough to discern. 

“Please don’t.” Dick tries politely and there’s a tinge of sadness in his tone. Slade seems to back off, easing into his chair. 

You open your mouth wanting to pry but instead of asking the question on the tip of your tongue, you settle for asking for another slice. The air is full of questions but you’re not really sure which one to pluck out. Then again, you’ve got time. And really? Right now, that’s all you have.

Before you can dwell too much on that thought, Slade turns the TV on to drown out whatever Dick was saying. You’d tuned him out a little bit ago. It wasn’t really a matter of choice; it was more a matter of your brain going on power saving mode. 

You blink sleepily, the voice of the anchor falling into a low hum in your mind. You’re pretty sure your name blips in between the static of words. There’s a dull recognition in the words ‘kidnapping’ and ‘suspects’ but it all seems so distant at the moment. No reaction registers upon realizing that they were probably talking about your kidnapping and really could anyone blame you when some cosmic fuckery just occurred and now your life has been turned on its head? ____________________________________________________________ Thanks for reading!

[jeonqquk]

tattooing | jjh

Pairing- Jaehyun X Reader

Genre/ Tags- fluff, crack, bi jaehyun, lucas royally fucks up, tattooing

Age rating- 13+

Word count- 2.6k words

Summary- Tattooing doesn’t go as planned.

POV- Third person

Your whining wasn’t gonna get you anywhere, you were well aware of the fact. But you supposed that you might as well give it a shot. The ‘it’ here being the fact that you really wanted Jaehyun to get a tattoo. It wasn’t that you wanted to somehow blackmail Jae into getting a tattoo. Oh god, no. You’d never want that. It was just that you had always been fond of tattoos, the meaningful ones, not the totally unnecessary, really weird looking, out of the world ones. Jaehyun with a tattoo would be fucking hot though, that was just a plus point- not the main reason as to why you wanted him to get one. 

You were thinking a sweet quote or something, but that would only be possible of he was willing to get one.

“Jae, baby, what do you think about getting a tattoo?” your boyfriend of 3 years sighs, rubbing his hand on your knee that had been placed on his thigh. “I don’t know..maybe later. Why are you so intent on me getting a tattoo though?” he wiggles his eyebrows, suggestively or whatever, and you look at him in confusion, trying your level best to stop the blood threatening to creep up your cheeks. You clear your throat and reply simply “I feel like a tattoo would be beautiful. Just permanently inked onto your skin. It should be something purposeful though. I don’t want you going bald and tattooing a zipper on your scalp.” 

A snort is heard from him “Don’t worry, I’m not going bald. Although it’s a very tempting idea.” Rolling your eyes at his lame comment, you sit up and move over to cuddle closer to him on the couch. He wraps his left arm around you “Why don’t you get a tatto Y/n?” he questions and you look up at him in mild shock. Well, you could get a tattoo. You are of legal age and stuff but the thought had never crossed your mind. You don’t know why.

“....I could...” Jaehyun smiles, his dimples popping out and you can’t help but mirror the sweet action. “So why don’t you? We’re not even doing anything and I know for a fact that you have a lot of designs saved on your Pinterest board. Even if they were for me, you can try finding one that suits you too.”

Suddenly feeling giddy, you quickly grab your phone from the coffee table and unlock it, clicking on the app you needed. As you find the board, you see that you’ve gained 18 followers in the time span of 2 weeks. Huh.

As you scroll through the pins of small intricate designs that could be engraved onto a finger or hand, Jaehyun points out one that looked like watercolour art and was in the form of a small flower with red petals. It did look quite cute, to be honest. “Hmm, this does look nice. Won’t it look good on my collarbone?” Jaehyun nods in agreement “I was thinking that too.” Smiling up at him, you look into his eyes “Well, should I get this?” Your boyfriend chuckles at your excitement, and pats your head in adoration. “I know that you’re excited, sweetie. But don’t you wanna try looking at other designs before deciding?” Humming, you scroll a bit more as Jaehyun reads a novel. But you don’t find anything that captures your attention a lot. Sure the sweet quotes, couple tattoos and nature-related  designs are great ideas for a tattoo but you were set on the one with the rose.

Jaehyun coos when you tell him that, squishing your cheeks and telling you that the two of you could go to a shop tomorrow and get design inked onto your collarbone forever. 

It’s 9:28 am when you wake up from your slumber and turn to give Jaehyun who looks like he had also woken up just a few minutes ago a peck on his lips. His dimples are visible as he smiles and greets you. The two of you get up and freshen up before you’re sitting at the dining table to eat blueberry pancakes. 

The clock shows that it’s 10:30 am by the time you two leave the house and head for the tattoo store you had researched last night. It takes 15 minutes to reach said shop and Jaehyun parks the car before looking at you with concern evident on his face. “Y/n, you are sure about this right?” Smiling fondly at his worry, you keep your hand on his cheek “I’m sure Jae. Don’t worry.” One kiss is enough to relax him and you pull away before you get too carried away and end up dirtying his car again. Oops.

You enter the cosy shop hand-in-hand with Jaehyun and see someone sitting at the reception wearing an oversized blue shirt. Definitely not the vibes you had expected to get from a fucking tattoo parlour but oh well. You had expected everyone to be intimidating and were ready to hide behind Jaehyun as soon as you entered. But it seems as if that wasn’t happening because all you had deciphered from the shop called Inkphoric was that it was built in a way not to scare the people who had gathered the courage to even stop foot in it. 

The receptionist, she said her name was Nara, leads you both to a room in a corridor. Your hands are sweaty and thankfully she allows Jaehyun to go inside as well. When you’re seated on the chair comfortably, Jaehyun grabs a stool to sit beside you and you wait for the tattoo artist. The wait isn’t long because a minute later, a man who looks about your age is walking towards you all. His all black get-up matches the tattoos littering his arms and he also seems to have a piercing in his right ear, a silver dangling. 

“Hello, I’m Lucas. I’ll be tattooing…” he introduces himself and looks between the two of you, silently asking which one of you he would be tattooing. Honestly, you would have expected him to at least  know who he would be drawing on but quickly brush the thought off as you greet him, telling him that you would be the one getting the art onto her skin. He smiles cutely and nods, and you look at Jaehyun, his comforting smile relaxing your tense body. 

Nara talks to Lucas for a minute or so and then walks off, shooting you an encouraging smile before closing the door behind her. 

“So what is it that I’ll be tattooing onto you, ma’am?” Lucas speaks and you show him the image of the flower. Jaehyun is holding your left hand in his, the warmth seeping throughout your entire body and you’re grateful for Jae’s beautiful ability of being able to calm you down in only a matter of seconds- no matter how serious the situation would be. 

“Oh, that’s very pretty.” “Thank you.” you smile at him, and he prepares his stuff. You’re pulling down the hem of your shirt slightly and exposing part of your left collarbone, where you want your collarbone. 

Lucas says that he’s tracing the design out first and you wait patiently. 

“Now, don’t be scared. It’s gonna hurt at first, especially at the bone but it will soon go away. You can hold your boyfriend’s hand.” he instructs and gives you an encouraging look as Jaehyun moves to your  right to give Lucas space, his large hand completely enclosing yours. 

“Okay, here goes…” the sound of the gun whirring to life fills the room that has tattoo designs filling the wall. 

“Fuck!” your voice pierces through the air and you jolt from the sudden pain. It felt as if someone was impaling you with a sword- which was partly true- but they were doing it continuously. Jaehyun is shocked from your sudden movement and struggles to catch you in his arms. Lucas quickly tears the gun away from your neck and you whimper out, the pain searing through your entire being and Jaehyun tries shushing you, his attempts all going in vain. 

Shitshitshit. This is torture. It’s only the first touch of the needle against your skin and you’re already this close to crying. How the fuck do people get those huge ass tattoos?! Trying your best to calm down and ignore the pain spreading throughout your entire being, you squeeze Jaehyun’s hand hard enough for it to pain but you don’t really care at this point, the throbbing of your collarbone enough to send you flying. He’s stood up from the stool by now, standing behind you.

“Okay..sorry sorry, you can continue.” you whisper out and clamp your lips shut so as to not let out any more weird noises. You’re sweating by the time Lucas gets the gun closer to you and bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood when the feeling of the needle pressing against your skin fills you up again.

Holy heck, I can’t do this. 

Your face is an accurate representation of agony, your entire body tensing as Lucas tattoos your collarbone with his long hair slightly brushing against your neck. You try leaning your head back and lean against Jaehyun. He’s whispering soft comforting words as countless profanities leave your mouth and you feel sad for Lucas, having to hear the shit you were spewing. 

“It’s alright, baby. Just think about other things, happy things.” your boyfriend pecks your cheek and hugs you lightly, trying not to disturb Lucas.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale inh-

“I think I just popped a boner.”

You gasp. Lucas chokes. He moves. You shriek.

“Ah, shit!” the gun’s needle scraped against your skin, it was all so sudden. The pain suddenly shoots throughout your entire body, tears filling your eyes. Nononono. 

“Jesus! It’s paining too much!” you’re sobbing by now, Lucas is frantic and Jaehyun..well..he is burning. He’s too busy regretting all his choices to even notice what’s happening around him. Jaehyun bends down to fix his problem and emerges 5 minutes later, when you’re still twisting in torment. Everything is red, your lip being abused by your teeth in order to calm down.

“Y/n! Ma’am! I’m so sorry! Shit, no!” Lucas apologises and sprints over to get a cloth to wipe something you feel trickling down your chest now. Blood. You’re bleeding. 

Writhing in agony in your seat, you clench your hands as if that would somehow reduce the sting, and pant, trying to relax. Your eyes are widened at an attempt of keeping it all in but the throbbing just doesn’t seem to dissipate.

Oh God…

Lucas is now carefully dabbing at the source of blood with panic written clearly all on his face. You look at Jaehyun through the ache to see that he is now coming back to reality and upon seeing your state, a gasp tears his throat and he’s looking at you with his eyes widened. 

The distress prevents you from speaking properly but you manage to call out, “J-Jaehy..Jaehyun.” Said man is desperately looking between your blood gushing out and your face twisted in discomfort. He figures it out and as soon as he does, takes your whimpering form into his, murmuring endless apologies and if you could, you would stop him from saying that but the sting is still there, only lessening a tad bit.

It’s hell, trying to clean the blood away and getting it sorted out. You cried a bit during the process as well but you were perfectly entitled to do that, the gun had pierced your skin quite deep when Lucas had jolted upon hearing what Jae suddenly said. 

30 minutes later, you’re hiccupping slightly and trying to breathe normally after the mad incident. Surprisingly, no one had come in during that time and you were thankful for that, not having wanted anybody to see the mess that had been caused because of Jaehyun’s unexpected confession. Speaking of which, you wince and turn around to look at him and when his eyes meet yours, ask him what he meant “What was that about you popping a boner?” the incredulity just hit you now and you wait for his response impatiently.

“Nothing babe...just forget it. I’m so sorry for saying it so randomly, though. I should’ve thought before speaking. I’m so careless.” the look on his face melts  and you are about to pull him into your chest when you realise that you can’t.

The pain has subsided by now, it’s bearable and you turn to look at Lucas who- when he catches your gaze- immediately walks over to you and starts speaking. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry! That was so sudden and I messed up your tattoo. It’s all my fault, please forgive me if possible.” he looks scared, and you understand why. He probably thinks you’ll sue him or something but you weren’t planning on doing anything of the sort. “It’s alright Lucas. I’m also not gonna tell anyone. We’ll just tell everyone that as soon as the gun touched me, I chickened out and told you to stop.” you keep your hand on his head that’s bowed and he looks up. There are tears brimming his eyes and you don’t know if it’s out of fear or the fact that he genuinely feels terrible for what he did. It really wasn’t his fault anywhere though. You didn’t understand why he was so stressed. 

“I’m sorry Lucas, I just said something stupid without even thinking before. You don’t need to take nay of the blame.” Jaehyun’s voice fills the room and Lucas’ features relax a little before he smiles forcefully. “Well, if your cuts get better, then maybe I can continue the design?” he jokes and you laugh along, knowing all too well that you wouldn’t be coming here again. Your first tattoo and this had happened.

“So do you wanna tell me about that boner-popping now? Lucas isn’t even here.” you’re sitting at the dining table, having just finished your dinner with empty bowls of pasta in front of each of you. Jaehyun shifts slightly in his seat and you wonder if you made him uncomfortable, although you don’t understand why- the reason couldn’t have been that  bad. As soon as you start to backtrack, Jaehyun’s voice is heard.

“Well..just..you know when you were getting the tattoo?” you nod slightly “Lucas was just, his black clothes..and he was bending over and I don’t know. You were whimpering..” “So the scene was too hot and you popped a boner?” you complete his sentence and he meekly nods before you’re howling with laughter, almost falling iff the chair and forgetting about the pain around your collarbone. The bisexual in Jaehyun was showing and he was afraid to admit it, you don’t now why. He had told you about this when you started dating, and you were totally fine with  it, because you knew that he wouldn’t cheat on you. 

“Hey..” your boyfriend half-heartedly attempts to stop you but you’re too far gone to realise that he may be feeling bad. When your laughing fit is over, though, you look at him for any trace of sadness but are relieved to see that he’s only blushing lightly, his dimples showing when he smiles. 

“So, do you wanna get a  tattoo now?” the answer is obvious, given the fact that today did not go as planned. You’re surprised when he answers.

“I don’t think so. My body is a shrine and a tattoo will take away its chastity.”

“Shrine indeed.”

Ty for reading! Yes lmao ik the ending is weird asf, as is the entire story, but nvm

Feedback is always appreciated!

this was supposed to be a drabble for jae’s birthday 😭excuse the typos they’re terrible and i’m literally the most impatient living being you’ll ever encounter

also, the shop name lmao i just got it from google- not creative i know

Tagging: @neoculturedtrash , @jeongjeffrey , @orange-lemon-cross , @nanasimp , @bluejaem​