#I picked the smallest one out of the bucket to raise

[bugsonthefarm]

Tobacco hornworm (Manduca sexta) (Hawkmoth/Sphynx Moth)

Sept 8 2022

Have I mentioned I love these guys? Seriously I adore them. I try to raise a caterpillar every year, and this is 2022′s lovely female adult! 

Native

[pirategirl4l]

˚୨୧⋆. FARMERSDAUGHTER!READER x COWBOY!MATT

☆ warning: nothing yet, heavy staring, dirty thoughts, slow burn, use of Y/n (i hate it so much.)

part 1:

1.9k words.

you’ve been raised in a farm, very far away of the town and with only a couple of neighbors, that live at least ten minutes away by car. your dad, a very strict and tough guy, was an important farmer around the town, and always super overprotective of you. you currently live with your parents, but you have two older brothers who already left, after marriage. they are way older than you, since you were an accident when your parents were already 35.

but, that made your dad even more rigid and protective with you. i mean, you’re his only baby girl and the youngest. he made sure you were homeschooled, even though you stopped after freshman year, to help your mother out around the farm. you don’t actually know anyone your age or even from the same generation, and you live basically in a church house hold, treated like a child, even though you’re already sixteen.

the only person you see on a weekly basis is your furthest neighbor, Mr. Sturniolo. he’s one of your father’s suppliers, and his products are always good quality stuff. you only say hi and bye when he’s around, just helping your dad by picking up the things and leaving in the barn. You know little about Mr. Sturniolo, only that he’s married to MaryLou and has triplets boys.

you’ve never seen them, but your dad has always seemed bothered when you mentioned the unknown topic. even though, in the back of your head, you’ve always been curious about those three secret boys, who are apparently around your age, you never insisted on the topic, to not piss off your dear daddy.

today, it was just a normal day, as always. the sun was bright, the sky free of clouds, and you were in the stable, brushing delilah’s, your horse, mane. you were humming to a song your mother listened to while cooking lunch, when you hear your father calling out for you.

you leave the brush on top of a bucket and quietly leave the stable, squinting as the bright sun hits your hazel eyes. you notice a familiar truck by the barn and you realize Mr. Sturniolo is here again. you see your dad talking to him, but he’s in the drivers seat and you can’t see him.

“y/n, help me with these.” he points to the back of the truck.

“sure, daddy.” you reply lowly, your voice shy and sweet, as always.

as you start to pick up the smallest packages, you hear your mom calling out for your dad, and he leaves, but before mumbling something: “help her with these, boy.”

you didn’t pay so much attention to it, but you felt your whole body vibrating and your breath hitching in your throat as you see who left the truck. and it was not Mr. Sturniolo.

you slowly looked to your side, looking up as he slowly approached you. it was indeed not Mr. Sturniolo, but a way prettier and younger version of him. he had dark tinted jeans on, that hung low in his waist and showed the hem of his boxers. you couldn’t help but stare as his V-line peeked out through his red and black flannel shirt.

your gaze quickly averted back up when he cleared his throat, his intense icy blue eyes, hid behind his messy brown hair and cowboy hat, and slight smirk taunting you. you looked away the fastest in your whole life, your embarrassment easily shown by your red cheeks and slightly wide eyes.

“hey, it’s y/n, right? i’m matt.” he introduced himself, raising his hand. you turn around to face him with a shy smile, shaking his hand. his handshake his firm, and you can see his biceps bulging through the tight fabric around his arms.

“yeah, uhm, nice to meet you.” you basically whispered, feeling your legs weirdly shaky and your heart racing. you don’t understand why you feel this way, after all, this was just a normal boy, no?

“nice to meet ya.” he chuckled weakly, his handshake leaving yours as they brushed against your hair. “i like your… piggy tails.”

you can feel a slight mockery tone in his voice, and the way he talked about your chosen hairstyle for the day made you feel like a kid to his eyes.

matt’s pov.

i was just doing a favor to my dad, while he was busy with other things to go over at Mr. Tanner’s house. i didn’t really wanna go, but i brushed my bad mood aside and got in the truck, driving fifteen minutes to the house.

he greeted me and called out his daughter, that i didn’t even know he had one. Mr. Tanner had to leave, so i jumped out of the driver’s seat to help his kid.

but as soon as my eyes landed on that girl, i felt my whole bad mood and unwillingness to come here leave my body in a snap.

she had this innocent appearance, 5’2 tall, a white little dress and dark brown boots, with a tad of mud in it. i see her shamelessly checking me out, which made me smile to myself.

i clear my throat, making her eyes snap back to me. her cheeks looked red and her big and innocent eyes looked at me with such curiosity, the hazel irises almost fully dominated by the dark pupils.

i introduced myself, making sure to keep my eyes on the most angelic girl i’ve ever seen in my whole life during it. she looked extremely cute and awkward, which felt unfair to the dark desires that creeped up in the back of my head.

i know i shouldn’t feel that way, she has probably never even been kissed by a boy, and the way her eyes hold a bright innocence i just know she doesn’t have her mind on guys.

but exactly this innocence that makes me feel this way, an ugly desire to corrupt her, to make her mine. fuck, just the way she called her father daddy and the way her piggy braids sit delicately across her chest makes my head pound with thrilling and forbidden thoughts.

“nice to meet ya.” i chuckled, doing a bold move and gently touching the soft and braided dark hair, that contrasted so drastically to her porcelain doll skin. “i like your… piggy tails.”

i can physically hear her heart pounding, and the way her eyes nervously darted around, her full and pink bottom lip tugged between her teeth. my hand was just twitching to reach over and pull her perfect and so fucking kissable lip from her teeth and just kiss her until she can’t breathe. but i hold that in.

your pov.

“thanks.” you mumble lowly, your voice coming out more bitter than you intended, as you turned around and dropped the last package in the barn. “thanks for your help, sir.” you say, trying your hardest to avoid matt’s gaze.

“no need for ‘sir’, sweetheart.” he chuckled lowly, the nickname sliding out easily from his lips, his thick boston accent making your head spin and butterflies fight inside your stomach. “it makes me feel old.”

you smile embarrassedly at his joke, looking down to his boots. “how old are you?” the question slipped out of your mouth before you could stop your impulsive thoughts, the curiosity getting the best of you.

“twenty one, ma’am.” he leaned closer, smiling ad he mocked your ‘sir’ comment. “how ‘bout you?”

you hesitate, not wanting to tell him your real age. you’re seen as a child by everyone around you, and now, for the first time, there’s a cute guy in front of you, who’s just a little older than you. you are not sure, since you’ve never even talked to a boy before, but it feels like was flirting with you.

but, probably not, right? why would he? matt probably has a lot of girlfriend back in town, why would he be interested in a nobody like you?

“sixteen.” you whispered, looking down. You can hear matt gasping slightly, before he chuckled.

“you’re a kid.” he smiled tauntingly, as your cheeks grow redder and you feel your heart racing with embarrassment.

“i’m not a kid.” you muttered, avoiding his gaze at all costs. you knew this would happen, of course a guy like matt, cocky and older, would think you’re a child.

“sure thing, sweetheart.” he teased with a smirk, ruffling your hair. you sighed heavily, feeling your cheeks burning hot with embarrassment, as you turned around and left, walking to the stable.

as soon as you get to the company of delilah, you feel a wave of relief hitting you, from finally being able to relax without matt’s company. why did he make you so nervous? what was so different about him? he’s just so stupid boy, that’s what your daddy would say.

but as soon as you got there, matt sturniolo followed behind. his steps were heavy, his boots trembling the floor beneath him. well, maybe it was your heart beating that was making your whole body tremble.

“who you got there?” he smiled warmly at your horse, walking to her and caressing her furr.

“this ia delilah.” you smiled, your dimples showing up for the first time. although they were very faint and only appeared when you smiled big, it was the cutest aspect about you.

“shes a beaut.” he grinned, his gaze averting to you as he noticed the detail. “you got dimples.” he almost whispered, his eyes softening for a second.

you smiled shyly, briefly looking down as you nodded slowly.

“you’re so damn cute, y/n.” he muttered, his voice low and husky, goosebumps running through your whole body as he stepped closer, mere inches from you. “fuckin’ adorable.”

you were about to answer, but your words caught in your throat. you felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest, and every time you’d try to answer him, you’d stutter like an idiot.

“no need to say anythin’, sweetheart.” matt basically purred, as his hands cupped your cheeks and brought you closer to him. you see him leaning down, almost bending his neck, his hot and minty breath fanning across your lips.

the next thing you know, your lips are parted, as if inviting him in, and matt closed the distance between you with a soft kiss. you didn’t know what to do, this had never happened before. a soft gasp left your mouth, which made him smile against your lips.

matt pulled back after a couple of seconds, a warm smile on his pink lips. “you’ve never been kissed, right?” he murmured, his voice low and sultry. “jus’ lemme do it.”

he leaned down and his lips found yours again. this time, it was more dominant, desperate, needy. you didn’t know what to do, so you just followed matt’s moves. your hand moved to the back of his neck, while one of his own lowered down to your waist, squeezing it slightly. his tongue swiped across your bottom lip as he deepened the kiss, and you reluctantly accept it, your lips parting in a soft breath.

he was dominant, and you didn’t try to fight back. he was secretly guiding your moves, as your tongue copied his exact moves like a mirror. you can feel your stomach flipping around inside you, your heart pounding and your whole body numb. you never expected a simple kiss to feel so good.

―୨୧⋆ ˚

a/n: this was definitely sooo fun to write, and i hope y’all love it, i really do!! reminder, this is a slow burn, but dont worry that we will get to the good part… xoxo!!💋

[imagines-by-cleo]

Alright I’ll be adding another one to your numerous kaz requests😅can we get one where a female assassin (not Quiet lol) attempts to murder mgsv!Kaz and despite the hate he falls in love with her? I just thought the idea of Kaz having an ex assassin lover might be interesting.

and like everyone is saying…please take your time and don’t rush. Love your blog xoxo

~I'm back~ and omg I can't believe it took me until the new year to finish this. I've been writing this one bit by bit for the last couple months and I liked this prompt so much I'm almost sad to finish it. Thank you friend for thinking of this! Maybe I'll do a part two after I finish the rest of the requests and the few of my own I have in the works that should hopefully be out soon.

CW: SMUT, kinda dubcon, bondage, nipple play, teasing, fingering, orgasm denial, switch!Kaz, rough sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling

You gasped as another bucket full of freezing water was dumped over you, making you shudder and strain against the chains that held your arms above your head. Ready to shout another insult at the overdressed bastard that had been interrogating you until the swish of the sliding door echoed across the room and a stranger stepped in.

His presence held weight and his silence added to that, while you held your breath the only sound was the clanking of his cane on the metal floor slowly coming closer and closer.

"I tried everything, but unless you want me to seriously hurt her she's not gonna budge." The cowboy spoke, sounding just a little too excited as he hinted for permission to really get to work.

"That's not necessary." Kaz replied, sounding just the slightest bit defensive. "Let me talk to her. Alone."

"I don't think that's a good idea..."

"I don't care what you think." Kaz snapped back.

With a shrug the other man walked out of the room and you were left alone with your former target. If he wanted you dead it's likely he would have just killed you already, it was more possible that he wanted answers, secrets that you were in no position to be giving away. There was still a chance that you could save this mission from failure but if you cracked and gave away any information you would be dodging assassins better than yourself for the rest of your life.

He came closer in no hurry at all, clanking of his crutch hitting the metal floor echoed through the silent room like a doom drum. As he stood between you and the only light in the room he made a rather intimidating silhouette, towering over you in complete silence. Though you knew that his calm collected nature was just a ruse to put you in suspense you couldn't help but feel a little defeated as it was working.

"Let's start at the beginning." He said before starting his interrogation. "How did you get in?"

"Wouldn't you like to to know soldier boy?" You quipped, earning the smallest hint of a growl that he made quick work of silencing before he continued.

"Who do you work for?" He asked.

"You have a lot of enemies. Kaz." You teased, staring him down. "Just pick one to blame it on for now, it won't matter in the end."

"This doesn't have to be difficult." He stated, more reasonably than anyone who was almost murdered had a right to sound.

"Oh you haven't even seen difficult yet." You challenged, sounding more like a bratty child than a deadly assassin.

He quickly raised his hand, thinking he was going to hit you you flinched, not expecting to find him only reaching for the top button of your fatigues. It really did catch you off guard when he started to pop open each button slowly, one after the other until your whole front was undone and chest ready to be exposed by the slightest pull of the fabric.

Though the clothes still covered all that they were supposed to, the chilly wet fabric clinging tightly to your skin left little to the imagination. The sunglasses covering his eyes made it hard to tell where Kaz was looking yet you could still feel yourself shrinking under his gaze and fought your restraints with the urge to cover yourself.

Raising his hand to his mouth and biting down on the fingertip of his glove he pulled it off with his teeth then spit it onto the floor. He touched his bare hand to your neck, feeling how your breath was starting to quicken and more so when you knew he noticed, then pressing his thumb lightly over your windpipe he felt it stop. You found yourself wondering, doubting and then fearing again if a one handed man could even strangle you. Something in his firm grasp told you that he was ready to, and threatened, no, promised that he would.

His fingers moved, tracing your collar bone then stopping on the center of your chest, feeling your racing heartbeat for just a moment before slowly pulling one side of your shirt open. The touch of his hand on your skin felt both foreign and warm against your cold skin, even when he started to cup your uncovered breast it was difficult to reject.

"What are you doing?" You asked with an all too telling shake in your voice, receiving no answer from the man touching you.

You wanted to kick him away, spit at him maybe, call him a pervert or something worse, but the way he touched you was so meticulous and not at all a rushed taking of an opportunity. His touch was deliberate yet gentle, and the bitter scowl still stuck on his face told you that this wasn't for his enjoyment.

The cold water had already made your nipples stand out leaving them much easier to touch, he circled one with his thumb lightly toying with it and making you shudder. You did your best not to show a reaction and began to bite your lip in fear of making a noise as he continued to squeeze and massage the soft flesh in his grasp.

Soon his fingers started to wander lower, until they had reached a point that made you assess whether you should reject his touch or open up to it you found your body had already answered for you as your legs parted without any resistance. Truth be told there were certainly more horrible people to be captured by, even when you were looking at his file and saw the messy blonde hair and the mysterious shades you thought it would be a shame to kill him.

His fingers ran slowly up and down your slit, only brushing your clit with every other languid stroke. You could feel yourself getting wetter and eventually hear it too when you started to soak his fingers and make it easier for them to glide over your folds. When you rolled your hips forward to grind against his palm only finding he suddenly pulled his hand away, now you knew what his goal was.

"That's a dirty trick." You huffed, rubbing your thighs together though it was no substitute for his touch.

"Talk." He demanded, returning just one finger to rub little circles around your clit without ever really touching it.

"I can't." You growled in frustration. "They have other assassins ready to kill anyone that cracks."

His fingers moved down to circle your entrance, making you more and more desperate with each stroke. The satisfied look on his face as you got visibly closer to breaking was your only motivation to stay quiet. He leaned in close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin, the ghost of a touch of his lips on your ear seemed to hit every nerve in your body as he whispered.

"Are you sure you're so worried about that?" He asked, challenging the last bit of strength you had left.

One finger pressed in slowly, enough that you could savor the slight stretch which you couldn't tell whether it came from the thickness of the digit or how hard you had been clenching around it. Sliding in as deep as possible before curling, you moaned out loud as the feeling in the core grew more intense and demanded relief.

Kaz leaned in close until his lips where just ghosting over your own, you wanted to lean forward to kiss him but he was just out of reach. Still he lingered, tasting every breath growing deeper and faster while his fingers pumped in time. Just as you were sure you could cum all over his fingers he pulled his hand away.

"No, no, no, please!" You whimpered, trying to get his touch back before your release was lost.

"Tell me." He reiterated much to your frustration.

"It's XOF, okay? They sent me to kill you." You finally broke down and admitted not even caring about the consequences.

"What else do you know about them?" He continued.

"They don't tell me that much, probably in case I got captured, but they have more people they're gonna send if I don't come back."

"In that case we're gonna have to tighten up security around here..." His attention drifted off as he started to mentally plan.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a damn tease?" You jeered.

That seemed to be the only thing that broke his scowl as he let out a short laugh, he even seemed to stay amused as he turned and walked away. "Well if those assassins are only as skilled as you I guess we have nothing to worry about."

"Hey, where are you going?" You asked though you received no answer

Totally unbothered as he kept walking and not the slightest bit guilty for leaving you so desperately untouched as he entered the code and stepped out the door.

"Kaz, you can't leave me like this." You shouted after him shamelessly bargaining. "It's gotta be against the Geneva convention or something."

As as the door shut behind him and your begging shouts had turned into frustrated curses as you strained against your bonds. The room was left deadly silent making the sound of your pounding heart echo louder through your neglected body and you found yourself wishing that someone would have mercy and dump another bucket of cold water on you.

~

Ever since that day you had been working exclusively for the diamond dogs under the direct orders of Kazuhira Miller. Doing odd missions and assassinations that Big Boss was too busy to take care of, your most difficult mission so far was convincing everyone that you were no longer a threat, but for the most part you left that up to Kaz. Your loyalty lied only with him and for the worst reason, every day that you worked you counted yourself lucky that that no one else knew the truth or what your goals really were; although every once in a while you would get a knowing glance from that cowboy you met earlier.

Soon enough you had earned enough trust to have the privilege of a room of your own, it was hardly an upgrade from your cold cell but it at least had a proper bed, the only real problem was how empty it felt. The nights there were unbearable alone and you constantly found yourself tossing and turning with an insatiable need burning through your body. Your own touch was hardly enough to satisfy, even when you pretended your fingers were his while tracing all the places he had touched before.

One night you couldn't take it anymore, frustrated with the growing wetness between your thighs you ventured out to go find the relief you had been craving for far too long. Without even bothering to put on more than the t-shirt you slept in and a thin pair of panties you snuck out through the halls avoiding detection much like you would on a real mission.

Security had increased since you first infiltrated the base, but luckily for you not in the places it mattered. The routes patrol took were the same and the direction cameras were pointed never changed either, both faults practically inviting you into Kaz's quarters.

He wasn't a very sound sleeper, just like the first time you saw him he was tossing and turning in a fight with his own dreams before he even woke to notice an intruder. Quietly and carefully you crept onto his bed watching him twitch and mumble for a moment before you crawled over and straddled him, pushing the sweat dampened hair back from his forehead you noticed his breathing start to steady as his eyes fluttered open.

The peace didn't last long however, when he woke up enough to realize there was someone else in the room his expression changed to pure rage. His hand flew to your throat squeezing tight even after he recognized you almost as if you were the nightmare he had been fighting with. Only gently setting a hand on his arm while trying not to give in to your instinct to fight back, eventually his grip relaxed though he didn't let go of your neck.

"Trying to kill me again?" He questioned, baring his teeth.

"No." You answered simply, a blush crept onto you face along with a hint of a nervous smile.

Kaz was about to say something else, most likely a follow up question until he felt the answer in your fingertips creeping along the waistband of his boxers. He was stunned at the boldness of your touch, giving you the opportunity to grab his wrist and pin it to his side.

"You never told me how you got in here." He confidantly remarked, as if he was still in control.

"The same way I got in last time." You answered proudly. "And you didn't even bother to lock the door this time."

Noticing the hint of a smirk on his face you could almost assume that he knew, even as you felt him strain in your grasp but never really fight against it made you think this vulnerability was just an act or more likely a trap. Suspicious as his behavior was you couldn't help but take the opportunity before you, hooking your finger on his boxers waistband and slowly pulling them down.

With a few light strokes you soon felt his cock stiffen up in your grasp then once it was nice and hard you gripped tighter and pumped a little faster. Watching his chest rise and fall as his breathing grew deeper you were hoping to get something like a whimper or maybe you could even get him beg and look as pathetic as you must have when he was teasing you.

The idea swirled in your head as you softened your grip and slowed down until you were only giving him short lazy strokes. Kaz let out a deep frustrated groan, while it wasn't what you were hoping for it was a start. He opened his eyes to see you staring down at him with sadistic intentions then gave you a defiant smile while shaking his head.

Pouting at his reaction you became even more determined to get him to crack, with only your thumb and your forefinger you continued to work his shaft until you could practically hear him grinding his teeth. He had almost wiggled his wrist out of your grasp but you kept a firm hold on him.

After deciding you had enough of teasing him you let go and moved up to hover your hips just above his, though he tried to hide it his twitching and squirming gave him away. Your mouth watered at the sight of Kaz held down panting with his swollen leaking cock out and proud just waiting for you to touch it while the growing ache between your own legs was getting too much to ignore

Too impatient to even take them completely off you simpliy slid your panties to the side before straddling him and lowering down, taking a minute roll your hips and drag his tip across your slit and feel it twitch while you soaked his cock. He let out the most delicious gasp when you slammed down on him and took the entire length with little resistance, for a moment you stayed there just savoring the feeling that was so much better than you had imagined in the long lonely nights.

The small victory wasn't yours to enjoy for very long, you held still long enough to feel him writhe impatiently and try to raise his hips in protest, you kept your resolve and only lifted slowly off of him then lowered back down taking just one inch at a time. Kaz groweld at first, then he sighed, then he whined. It was just like how you were when he left literally hanging in that cold cell, maybe even worse. The idea of that revenge made you dizzy with the promise of relief like you had been wanting, and you found yourself feeling just merciful enough to use him to get it.

Squeezing around him and making him moan without any hint of shame, his wrist went limp in your grasp and he relaxed and allowed you to continue your sweet torture. It did feel like a victory to render him as helpless as he was beneath you, even the idea of it made you wetter than you thought possible and the sight of it made you shudder. In that moment you needed release more than you needed revenge, the bitterness you felt toward him slipped further away every time you sunk down on his cock.

Your hips were moving on their own at that point, it was hard to tell who was getting more pleasure out of it all you knew was that you were getting so close to that sweet relief you had needed since he first touched you. Reminded of that night you had the idea of bringing his hand up to your chest, having him touch you like only he could.

As soon as you released his wrist his hand flew to your thigh grabbing tight and using it as leverage to throw you off onto your back, already stunned at being tossed off like that you never expected him to flip you again before climbing over and using his weight to keep you pinned down with a hand on the back of your neck.

"Fuck! Not again." You groaned, feeling your release slipping away.

His fingers twisted into your hair while he pushed your face into the pillow, the way he held you down made nearly impossible to even shift your weight let alone break free. Although his still hard cock rubbing against you from behind curbed your want to escape.

He laughed as you tried to wiggle yourself out to no avail. "I expect better from my best assassin, I should teach you a lesson."

Fighting his grasp just enough to turn your head for a moment to ask while sliding your panties down and coyly grinding against him. "Would you call this a lesson, or maybe a punishment?"

"A mission, now shut up and take it." He answered bluntly before forcing your head back into the pillow.

The first thrust buried his entire length deeper than it had gone before, without even realizing it you were whimpering helplessly while he pulled out to the tip and repeated the action again. Over and over the cycle continued of him leaving you nearly empty just to plunge in even deeper and quicker.

It was almost too much but you were so afraid of him stopping and not letting you finish that you spread your legs farther and took even more. Your cheeks grew red in pure embarrassment as you lost all control over the noises coming from your mouth, more so when Kaz pulled your head back by the hair and forced you to cry out in the open.

"C'mon, let everyone know who you're loyal to now." He demanded, twisting your hair and earning another scream.

He was so cruel, but honestly that was what you wanted, the violence, the insults, the brutal manhandling, all of it. Ever since that day you were wishing he would just pound you like this, all the while giving you that blood chilling scowl.

That feeling of reaching your peak came creeping up through your body again, and with it a fear that you would be denied release. You arched your back and bucked your hips in rhythm with his trying to take in as much of him as you possibly could while fully expecting him to chastise you for being so desperate.

"Don't... Don't make me beg for it again." You panted out, lifting up and pressing your back to his chest.

He snorted at your request. "You're so lucky I'm bored of teasing you."

Having him so close while you came made the sensation so much more intense, feeling his breathing get deeper while he pounded even harder and pulled your hair even tighter. He tugged your head to the side so he could put his mouth on your neck and practically taste every moan that flowed out, his lips felt scorching on your already burning skin consuming you completely in a wildfire of passion.

Kaz pulled out and turned you over while your legs were still twitching, before he could even push back in you caught a glance through the glaze in your eyes and saw the first spurts of cum dripping out of his cock. He shut his eyes and bared his teeth while he continued to roll his hips forward, letting out long low groan and gripping your thigh tight. The feeling of him twitching inside while he while he filled you up was just too much for your sore overstretched hole, but the lingering need to keep him close kept you from telling him to stop and instead making you wrap your legs around his waist.

Spent, exhausted and finally finished he dropped down, his face only a few inches away from your own. Your breath mixed and your eyes locked in a moment of honest exposure, the bitterness and tension being released finally allowed the two of you to really see each other for a brief moment.

He didn't hold back at all, touching and kissing you wildly wherever he pleased while you were still shivering and giving you all the contact you had been begging for all this time. While you were a little taken aback by his treatment you readily accepted and even returned the affection where you could.

"Do you know how bad I wanted to do this while you were all tied up in there?" He revealed through heavy breaths.

Even his affection was violent. Kisses from a man who forgot any other way to be intimate could nearly drown you in wave after brutal wave, but you wouldn't just survive without returning in kind. Not simply allowing Kaz to take over your body, you savagely took his as well. Becoming nothing more than a tangled mess of tongues and teeth, hands grabbing and pulling desparately whether they landed on hair or skin.

In one of the rare instances when your lips had to part for oxygen you took the opportunity to say. "Kaz. Don't take this the wrong way but, I'm so glad I came to kill you."

"There's no right way for you to take this but, I'm glad you're bad at your job." He replied with a grin.

With the slightest urge to prove him wrong right there you laughed and kissed him again. For the rest of the night it continued like that, with the two of you sharing banter while holding each other close. The end of the agonizingly tense relationship you previously had sparked the begining of something that would be a challenge to explain if anyone on base found out. If they found out.

[sophi-s]

A Karen coworker wants to report me to our manager for "bad behavior"

This story is gonna be a long one but I need to give some background to make sure all makes sense. Don't mind any potential typos and grammar mistakes I fail to catch, I'm still kinda mad while I'm writing this and English ain't my first language. (I wanted this to go on r/F**kYouKaren but it got deleted :[ )

I work at a small confectionery at my hometown for minimal wage to try and get by. I work 8 hour day shifts (6 A.M. - 2 P.M.), 5 days week and my current job is baking cookies, filling them and such, as well as help with other things when I'm done with my stuff. Our kitchen squad consists 100% of women of various ages. I am the youngest member of the staff, nearing my 22nd birthday in autumn and funnily enough, I am good friends with the oldest member, we'll call her Katie (not her real name), who's almost 60 and preparing to retire due to unpleasant atmosphere.

The star of the story shall ofc be called Karen for reasons that will soon become apparent. She's not a stereotypical Karen when it comes to appearance but she's still the short, stocky woman (i'd guess) in her 40s. At the start, I was mostly not paying attention to her, treating her no different than I would anyone else. But I've made a horrible mistake of having the audacity to one day (abt 2 weeks into my new job) ask how you operate the oven with a touch screen as I had no clue what to do with him. The first warning of beginning a slow descent into madness was almost a year ago now and it was a massive, dramatic eye roll followed by unhelpful silence. Go figure. At that moment I knew we aren't gonna be friends.

In my defense, I tried to be nice to her. Saying "hi" to her every day and being as respectful as I could. All I received were scornful glares of entitlement and either more silence or a barely audible "Hey" through gritted teeth as though it would kill her to say it louder and nicer. The real show began when Karen started to boss me around, addressing me in a very disrespectful manner and talking as though she expected me to read her thoughts and know what she wanted me to do 5 years prior to even considering working there. She picks on me about the smallest things like a bucket being 1 inch out of place or a nearly invisible smear on a bowl. One time I was in line to the sink to wash my stuff when I heard "Do you have to stand here?" in a very mocking way. Apparently, Karen's butt is too big to walk around me, even though I was barely in the way, she had two-me-sized amount of space. And when I dared to say she has space to walk around while proceeding to wash my things, I saw Karen storming over to the other half of the sink (it's divided in two) and I already knew wht was coming when she lifed the heavy metal bowl she was holding. Now, I'm rather sensitive when it comes to sudden, loud noises and I tend to flinch at unexpected bangs or crashes and Karen noticed it, hence why she deliberately chucked that metal bowl into a metal sink. Thankfully I was prepared and remained calm despite the pang I got in my chest, merely raising an eyebrow. Karen's bullying goes farther than that, however. She chastised me for not washing the sink after I was done using it at the end of the shift (I took a rag to clean my table and intended to come right back to clean the sink too) and when I used a slightly-above-indoor voice, she went "You don't get to talk to me like that. You can talk like that at home to your mommy". Yes, this is the exact phrasing. Not only did she disrespect me as an adult, she also disrespected my mother. Mind you, my mom is disabled after a stroke she suffered in her mid 30s (plus mishandling of the situation by medical team) when I was just above 3 years old and I still remember to this day. We live in a small town so everyone knows about it. Every time I think about it today, I realize I could've lost her. I haven't received as much attention from my parents as dad had to provide for three kids and a disabled person. Still, I love her very much and I'm thankful she's alive. Every insult directed at her, I take super personally and I'm ready to throw hands to defend her. I was two seconds from doing something stupid when Karen said that. This only gets worse. Twice now, she's gone after me while I was in the freaking bathroom, yelling at me to "get off the phone", even though I entered barely two minutes before. Like, c'mon, let a woman sh1t in peace.

Overall, this delightful person has been treating me an Katie like garbage (other coworkers aren't very helpful). Okay, I admit, I talk smack abt her with Katie quite a lot but I feel like it's kinda called for. I might be a jerk but that's not the topic. Anyway, the story that pissed me off so much, happened today in the morning. And it's a combination of various things, actually. First of all, Karen uses the passive-aggressive approach, saying "someone talks too loudly. And those talks about cats and dogs make me want to puke". That was enough to sorta trigger me, I love my hellspawn of a cat and I enjoy talking about him with Katie while she talks about her dog. But since I'm not fond of confrontation, I kept my head down and muttered "go f yourself" under my breath, thankfully unheard by anyone. I never reply to provokation attempts, I just put every time she mistreated me in a bag for later. Not even 10 minutes later, I was laughing at something Katie told me. Then, after she went to buy some bread from the adjacent bakery that our boss, we'll call her Mary (not real name either), also owns, I heard Karen sh1ttalking me. She was like "She's being paid for working, not laughing!" (because I can't do both, obviously /s) and that was only the beginning. "She works for the same money as we do. That way, she might as well go lie down in the changeroom or go home" (yes, those cookies are baked by pixies and filled by invisible gnomes) "She's the youngest and has the most to say! I should report her to the manager, then the laughs are gonna end!"

Yes. She wants me fired because I had the gall to laugh at sth a friend told me. And she also talks like this out loud but as if I was not there or like I'm some emotionless, innimate object, unworthy of addressing. I just grit my teeth and ignored her to get my work done. And at that moment, I realized her strategy. This absolute b-word thinks I'm scared of her. She thinks she can tell whatever crap she wants to our boss and that I'll just quietly take it as I always do, then leave without a fight. I decided I've had enough. I dare you, Karen. Report me. Say what you wish. I am ready.

Just to make things clear. Mary has a son who used to go to the same class as I. He's my age and because of that, she kinda treats me like her daughter. Calls me with either a fond a dimunitive of my name or "darling" ect. and makes sure I always eat second breakfast during the workday. So even if she does confront me, she knows Karen can be a pile of garbage and despises confrontation as much as I do. So yes. I am looking forward to the day Karen musters enough entitlement to report me. I will just take that aforementioned bag of insults and bullying, use it like a baking mix and make a delicious sh1tcake, sprinkled with a perfect amount of sweet Karma, which I'll just smack her in the face with.

If I don't quit my job before it happens (I'm moving out), I will update the story. That being said, the conviction I stand by is that respect is not a privilege gained with age. You have to work for it and earn it. Karen hasn't done that despite me giving her a chance several times. I hope even if I don't have that particular confrontation, Karma will eventually get her at some point

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier tattoo artist AU of my dreams:

-Geralt is one of those hidden gems in terms of tattoo artistry like he has absolutely no social media, most people who walk into his shop - a nondescript red-brick building with the smallest sign in some long-dead scripture - turn on their heels as soon as they are met with his grumpy glower; the only way he does get traffic is word of mouth; he's reliable, excels at his craft, just not good at the interpersonal side of things. The fact that he constantly has circles under his eyes and is inked toe to neck doesn't help

-One day, Geralt is just about to clean up, a man crashes into his shop, panting, hair tousled; he has the prettiest eyes, but doesn't look like a potential customer. "Sorry, was chased by an angry ex."

-"If you don't want to get inked, get out of here," Geralt barks and the man grins. "On second thought..."

-And Jaskier knows his agent will kill him for this, but he can't stop himself; one look at the brooding tattoo artist and Jaskier's practically crawling onto his table; okay, yes, he can be impulsive at times, and as a model, he should think long and hard before getting ink, but dammit he's intrigued; he figures he can always become a tattoo model

-"What do you want?" the man says, Geralt judging by the minimalistic business cards scattered over his counter; "Small thing really," Jaskier says, positive this is the man of his dreams "A buttercup blossom. On my wrist if you please."; so, Jaskier gets his first tattoo

-inevitably, Jaskier returns. Geralt greets him with a raised eyebrow - you again? - but is all too happy to comply when Jaskier says "Anything. Anything you always wanted to ink on someone, your pick" because for some inconceivable reason, Jaskier trusts this man with his skin, his future (his life if he wants to be melodramatic)

-While Geralt grunts and mutters to himself and his tattoo machine which he's named Roach (???), Jaskier wanders into the backroom. It's a simple room with a kitchenette and a table that is cluttered with paper. On closer inspection, Jaskier realizes they are pictures Geralt has drawn, most of them of fantasy creatures with elongated limbs, blood-dripping fangs, leathery wings. They aren't pretty but god, they are beautiful; "Get your pasty ass over here," Geralt calls then and Jaskier decides to pay him a hefty tip

-Jaskier leaves the shop hours later, a pack of wolves chasing each other up his left thigh. He's high on adrenaline and joy and he has a fucking plan; Jaskier calls his agent and tells him to cancel all jobs, tells him he quits; he has enough Instagram followers to make this work anyway

-the next time Jaskier brings a pack of nails and a hammer, about a dozen picture frames. "Your first two tattoos should heal before we put any more on you," Geralt says by way if greeting and Jaskier laughs. "I'm not here for that." Geralt makes helpless noises and watches in a sort of shocked paralysis as Jaskier frames his artwork and decorates one of the blank walls with it. The next customer that wanders in stays

-the next time Jaskier brings his friend Priscilla. They met on a photoshoot and have been trying to outdo each other since so naturally, she has to get inked too; Geralt gives them matching wild flower wreaths that curl around their upper arms and sends them on their way. Priscilla becomes a regular, brings a friend, and the dominoes start toppling

-the next time Jaskier brings a camera and teaches Geralt the in and outs of Instagram photography. Geralt doesn't join willingly, complains that he is a tattoo artist not a photographer and definitely no influencer, but when he gains 200 followers on the first day (not without Jaskier virtually nudging people) he starts to understand Jaskier's endgame

-the next time, Jaskier brings a giant plank of wood and buckets of paint. "You need a better sign." That night, Geralt marks him with a quote from a song they both like, nestled against Jaskier's collarbone

-So, Jaskier devotes all his time to building up Geralt's shop, his client base, his social media platform and gains a footing for himself as an independent tattoo model; he has an eye for these things; it works out

-Inevitably, Geralt and him get talking, grow closer over the long hours Geralt spends bent over Jaskier's body. Inevitably, Jaskier falls in love with Geralt, a little more every day. He's more than surprised when one day - Geralt had been working on Jaskier's backpiece, the ruins of a medieval stronghold overgrown with ivy and lichen - Geralt puts down his machine and hesitates before starting his aftercare routine. "Let it settle for a moment. You can sit up." Jaskier does only to find his face cupped by fingers stained with ink and blood. He gulps heavily, light-headed from the constant painful scratching on his back, and waits. Geralt tilts his head to the side, Geralt smiles. Geralt kisses him.

-"I never asked for any of this," Geralt says one night when the lay together in bed after sex because for once, no major part of Jaskier's body is still raw from fresh ink. "So?" Jaskier asks and kisses Geralt's nose. So, nothing.

The End.

[calif0rnia-lovers]

sweet as pie.

a/n: please join me in welcoming sam wilson to the page. first story dedicated to this classic man, surely not the last.

pairing: sam wilson x black!reader

rating: ����

main masterlist | taglist | divider © @whimsicalrogers

sum: sam is home. although times have changed, his sister’s intentions for him have not. sarah would love for her brother to settle down, and she knows the perfect person to make him do it. but when sam gets caught up with work, he misses the date sarah has set up for him.

words: 2.3K

It’s funny how the human mind works.

How easily certain moments can slip through its cracks. Names, dates, songs, conversations, faces lost to the wind, never to be remembered again. In the same turn, how those same things can be retained, recited down to the last detail in perfection.

Sam Wilson has seen enough in his lifetime--more than most men. No one could condemn him for forgetting the smallest of details from time to time. Sometimes he does. He is human. But, strangely, he can never forget a single detail when it comes to you.

Sam can still remember the first time he saw you.

The coffee-colored, cardboard box you carried in your arms--'living room' written across the front panel in your mother’s flawless penmanship. The dark curls pineappled to rest atop the crown of your head--a last-ditch attempt of fighting the Louisiana heat. The oversized Purple Rain t-shirt faded from too many runs through the wash. The round, black sunglasses sliding down the brim of your nose as you paused to take note of the boy watching you from his front window. Down to the scuffed, worn high tops that could barely pass for white.

He even remembers the soft smile you gave him once he froze--too embarrassed to move from the window after being caught watching you for the third time--before turning to lug the box up the steps of your front porch.

It was the summer of ‘94, and Sam Wilson was running late. He was expected to be at the docks assisting his father. Instead, he was peeping around his mother’s powder blue curtains, attempting to score glimpses of his new neighbors. Primarily their teenage daughter.

It’s not every day that Delacroix welcomes a new resident--let alone an entire family. Later that night, over dinner, his mother shared that you were entering your senior year--same as him.

He still remembers the knotting of his stomach. The strange and unusual experience of being tongue-tied when he’d tripped over his name--his name for god’s sake--that morning, you opened your front door to find him and Sarah on the other side. The kindness of your dark brown eyes as they met his, the soft giggle you released as you ignored his sputtering to accept the chocolate chip cookies his mother sent her children to deliver.

He also remembers the vision of you in your wedding dress. The smile he had to keep plastered on his face the night he learned his skepticism, surrounding death by broken heart, faded. You’ve never felt pain until you’ve seen the woman you love marry another man.

Sam must admit. When he returned, he expected--hoped--that those feelings would have disappeared. That they would have been erased from his life. Only, the moment he returned home, Sam discovered those feelings remained--were stronger even.

Five years later, he found you in the same house. Your parents no lived there. After their return from the blip, they packed up their things. Suddenly, tackling their bucket list was their main priority. You still had your husband’s last name but no husband. He was gone, lost to a younger woman.

Five years later, and Sam Wilson finds himself still frozen by the sight of you.

The long-sleeved maroon shirt he’s tugged on is not his number one choice. It’s all he had in his bag. The time on his watch had forced him into an ultimatum. Either run home, shower, and change into the outfit Sarah helped him pick out and risk being five hours late. Or head straight to your house, and risk being four hours and forty-five minutes late.

Sam opted for the latter.

Flowers in hand, he stands in the gateway of your backyard. His eyes admire the glow of the string lights against your skin. The yard has been transformed. Several tables and chairs, enough to host the entire neighborhood, squeezed into its space. Filled with music and laughter a few hours before the backyard is now quiet. Only the sounds of crickets, and the rustle of the trash bag in your hand, can be heard over the racing of Sam’s heart.

“Hey.” Sam takes a step forward, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Late is an understatement.” You don’t bother looking up from the plates stacked in your hands. Dumping them into the black trash bag, you move towards the next table. “You missed the entire party.”

After dumping the trash, you realize that Sam is no longer in the backyard. You find him in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” You ask, coming to a stop in the doorway.

Sam glances up from the soap-covered glass in his hands. “Helping you clean up.”

You glance around the kitchen, only to find that he’s managed to wash nearly the entire stack of dishes you’ve been dreading the entire night.

“I didn’t realize you still did stuff like this,” you tease. “What with you running off to save the world. Figured you’d just hire someone to do it for you.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I got you to keep me humble,” he winks.

Sam dries his hands with the bumblebee printed hand towel, a satisfied grin on his lips as he takes in the spotless kitchen. He’s too busy admiring his handiwork to realize you’re standing alongside him.

He turns, the snarky comment he’s prepared lost in his throat as he takes you in.

You can’t deny him a smile as you watch his eyes widen, a boyish grin brightening his face as he takes in the plate you’re holding. On it rests a single slice of homemade apple pie, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and perfectly drizzled caramel.

“I think you’ve earned this.”

“You saved me a piece?”

“No,” you sigh, allowing your eyes to roll. “I actually saved it for me. But if I have to look at your pathetic attempt at puppy dog eyes one more second--”

“You were hoping I’d show up.” The grin on Sam’s face has morphed into a trademark smirk, the sight pulling a giggle from your lips. “You and I both know you don’t save, or share your pie with just anyone.”

Sam’s observation is spot on.

You don’t share your pie--or food, for that matter--with just anyone. In the chaos of hosting the neighborhood, you didn’t have a moment to stop and enjoy your own party. Let alone a slice of the apple pies you’d spent the previous night preparing.

Apple pies--specifically yours--were Sam Wilson’s true weakness.

The moment he sees you lugging home a bag full of granny smith and macintosh apples, he’s on full helicopter mode. You’re not sure how he knows, but he’s got a radar. One that somehow allows him to prophesize the exact moment the pies are out of the oven and set aside to cool.

He’ll show up, stopping by to say hi, or to see if you still need the drainpipe your ex-husband never got around to working on fixed, or to “pass along a message” from Sarah--as though your best friend couldn’t pick up the phone and call. Whatever the excuse Sam Wilson always manages to be the one to get the first slice of your apple pie. He’s smart enough to know that once the children of the neighborhood catch a whiff, they’ll show up on your doorstep. And as much as he loves the kids--Sam isn’t letting them steal his pie.

Sam’s words come out muffled through a mouthful of apples and crust. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Y/N. You should sell these. You'd make a killing.”

“And I’ve already told you, it’s just for fun,” you dismiss his advice, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “Besides, what do you expect me to do? Quit my good paying--although painstakingly boring--job in the hopes that enough people will like my baking to keep me afloat?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sam nods, a smile growing as he watches your eyes roll.

It’s a conversation the two of you have had for years. Here is the rundown of how it plays out--every single time.

Sam: suggests that you finally open up the bakery you’ve been talking about since your teenage years.

You: dismiss his words of advice, reminding Sam that most teenage dreams are foolish.

Sam: ends the conversation with, “I’d show up every day for a piece.”

You: spend the rest of the night wondering if he’s right, about taking the chance, only to psych yourself out before going to bed.

“I’m just saying,” Sam sighs, sliding the plate to the side. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned. Life is going to pass you by, regardless, no matter what you do. If you give it a shot, and it fails--which is never going to happen--your life isn’t going to end.”

You glance up from the table, a tiny smile on your lips as you take in his soft smile.

“Maybe you’re right,” you shrug. “If all else fails, I’ll just tell everyone it’s the Falcon’s favorite pie--”

“You’ll have people flooding in from across the country.”

“It’s settled,” you giggle. “I’m using you in my business model.”

“Hey,” Sam chuckles. “As long as I get a cut, I’m not complaining.”

A silence falls over the tiny kitchen as your gaze drops from his.

Sam lightly raps his knuckles against the table before pushing his chair back.

“Uh—I should probably head out. You’re probably tired. I just wanted to come by and apologize...again.”

“Wow,” the light laugh you release halts Sam’s act of standing up. “The second you get what you came for you hit the ground running?”

The response is automatic. The chance to tease him is one you never pass up.

Sam’s brow raises as he takes in your smile.

“That’s not what I came for,” he admits.

“What did you come for then?”

“To ask you over to my place for breakfast tomorrow.”

The proposition hangs in the air, Sam nearly squirming in his seat as you take your time studying his gaze. You let out a sigh, your shoulders shrugging lightly, once you finally speak.

“I don’t know, Sam” You shake your head. Picking up the plate, you stand and cross the kitchen to the sink. “You just have so many responsibilities, nowadays, running around trying to save the world--”

“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” he’s quick with the reassurance. “Or any day, until we get through that date you promised me.”

You turn to face him, arms crossing over your chest as he comes to a stop before you.

“Say I show up. You have to promise me something.”

“Whatever you want.”

He knows that promise can end up being a slippery slope, depending on how hard you’re willing to make him work for it.

“If something comes up, in the future, you call me. And you tell me exactly why you can’t be here. Nobody gets to stand me up. Not the Falcon. And sure as hell, not Sam Wilson. Understood?”

Sam’s eyes drop to your interlaced fingers, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Standing on your toes, you place a kiss against his cheek. “Now, go get some sleep. You’re making me breakfast in the morning. I’m expecting waffles, bacon, freshly squeezed O.J.--the works.”

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[bvidzsoo]

Poison (Part 3)

 Author: bvidzsoo

 Warnings: suggestive stuff, light swearing

 Pairing: Kim Mingyu x female reader

 Word count: 15, 054

 Summary:  Three weeks have passed since the auction and things definitely changed. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but slowly, you started falling for Kim Mingyu. But things are never easy nor the safest, when you are dating a mafia leader.

 A/N:  Ayo lovelies, third part is here! We have a little bit of spice here and there in this chapter, but don’t get too used to it just yet! Someone is here to stir up some spirits, hehehe. Quick reminder, whenever I reblog the last part I posted, usually means the next one is coming real soon, so...there’s that. I don’t have much to say, except thank you for the support shown so far and please leave feedback! Enjoy now!

       The days and nights felt like a big whirlwind that I got caught in, my days more and more exciting as they went by. I never thought I had a boring life, I did go out and party from time to time, but I never experienced having someone with me almost twenty-four-seven. Not that I never had a partner, it’s just been a long time since. And they weren’t Kim Mingyu. An annoying giant, clinging to you whenever he could, while he whispered dirty things into your ear just to piss you off more. I swore to myself after the night of the auction that I wouldn’t get caught up even more with him, that I would never kiss him again. I even managed to convince myself that what I felt for him was just the spur of the moment and nothing serious, like when you make accidental eye contact with a handsome stranger and imagine a whole life with them; I pretended that’s what happened after the auction. Just a daydream that got too far but would never be repeated. And then all of my walls came crashing down when the next morning a huge bucket of white roses was placed in front of my front door. I walked curiously to the door when I heard my neighbor calling out for me, knocking softly against the door. My eye widened when I opened the door and they fell on the roses.

“Look at these beauties!” The lady exclaimed as she leaned down and picked the bucket up. My mouth was open as I didn’t know what to say, I could only look at her in disbelief, “You should put the into water, quickly, before they wither.”

Like all the defenses and lies I told myself last night have withered the second she pushed the roses into my arms. I knew who they were from and it made my heart beat quickly.

“Thank you.” I bowed my head a little as the lady giggled and walked towards her own apartment.

“Ah, to be young and in-love again…” She mumbled to herself and my cheeks suddenly felt hot. My eyebrows furrowed at the foreign feeling as I remained rooted in the doorway, gazing down at the beautiful flowers, a smile extending onto my lips. But my attention got caught by the door opposite mine getting unlocked and I panicked as I whirled around at lightning-speed to close the door before my best friend could spot me.

“Yah! Oh Y/N!” I bit my lower lip as I froze with my back towards the person who called out, “What are you doing?”

I quickly placed the roses on the little table by the door and turned around swiftly, closing the door enough so that Seungcheol wouldn’t see the beautiful bucket.

“Chatting with Mrs. Eom, why?” I answered him with a sweet smile, ignoring the rapid beat of my heart. Did he see the bucket of roses? I highly doubt that, he’s still wearing his pajamas, hair disheveled and toothbrush in his hand.

“I just heard voices…” Seungcheol muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“You just got up?” I asked concerned, eyes falling on the clock hung up in the hallway, reading 12:38 am.

“Yeah, had a rough night…” He muttered again, starting to brush his teeth lazily as he held onto his door, “Not everyone got an early night like you yesterday, Y/N. We had to take care of stuff—”

“Was the mission a success?” I chimed up with a small smile, but it quickly disappeared when Cheol started looking around and threw me a glare.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Y/N.” He scolded me and I rolled my eyes, stepping further inside my apartment.

“Fine, get changed, I’ll be over in ten minutes with my leftover breakfast, okay?” I raised my eyebrows as Cheol continued to brush his teeth with a frown.

“You always make me eat your leftover—”

“You never have food, stop complaining!” I snapped and shut the front door with a smirk when Seungcheol groaned loudly, the slam of his apartment door echoing around in the hallway. My eyes fell on the bucket of white roses again and I sucked in a deep breath, hating the way my heart started beating fast. I picked it up and went to find a vase for it.

And that wasn’t the only bucket I got from Mingyu. I kept getting buckets almost daily, sometimes he’d even bring them to the bookstore. He never entered, he just knocked on the window and left them in the door. Irene kept gushing about the sudden gestures but I shut her down with a glare and a few harsh words, telling her they didn’t mean anything. Because they meant a lot and I wasn’t ready to accept that yet. It felt like Mingyu suddenly learned what privacy meant, he wasn’t breathing down my neck anymore and it felt weird. I had him in my shadow for six months, suddenly having my own space was a weird feeling. It’s not like he abandoned me, but he didn’t approach me so openly anymore. When I went on a morning run, he’d be running on the other trail from which he had a clear view of me; when I would go to the convenience store late at night to buy something I forgot to get during the day, I would see him sitting in his Mercedes and looking inside the store, keeping his eyes on me and my movements. He did corner me at times when I wasn’t expecting him to, like when I was at the University’s library looking for a book for my research essay. When I was walking home after my shift, I would be pulled into a secluded alleyway, sometimes even at the entrance to the apartment building. And I couldn’t resist him, no matter how hard I tried. He finally won this game and I couldn’t even hate myself, because I predicted that I would fall. My heart wasn’t cold enough to ignore someone like him. And he knew that, that’s why he remained so persistent. But even then, I wasn’t ready for the world to know about us. I wasn’t even sure I was ready for whatever we were doing at the moment. We weren’t dating, but we certainly were something. Three weeks after the auction night, I craved him more than ever and I wanted to be with him almost always. But I had my own pride, I wouldn’t cave in so quickly yet. And I had other priorities, like, getting passing grades at University, working at the bookstore and maintaining my other relationships with people like: Irene, Vernon, Seungcheol. In just three weeks it felt like my whole life was constructed around Kim Mingyu and that scared me. Before, I was independent, I never thought of others and most certainly I didn’t have to direct so much of my energy and time onto another person. Even when I dated in the past, the relationship felt rigid and somewhat cold, which was my fault, to be honest. But something about Mingyu was different and it was him that didn’t let me shut him out like I usually would do, and it was foreign. I’d always bicker with him about the smallest things because I didn’t know how else to act around him, I was expecting him to leave me at any second. But he didn’t, he stood by my side for six months and he swore to never let me go in the three weeks that we’ve been sneaking around.

       Papers with my handwriting on it littered across the coffee table as I leaned my back against the sofa, sitting on the floor. It was getting late but I still had to study four more pages for tomorrow’s exam. It was a pain in the ass and I was already fed up with all the terminology I still didn’t understand, but I had no choice. I had all week to study, but due to a certain somebody, I barely had time to even breathe. Mingyu kept brining me out on dates, which, his words, ‘weren’t exactly dates’, and therefore I had no time to study in time. I hated leaving it for the last moment but right now I really had no choice. So, with a frustrated sigh, I leaned forward and grabbed my cup of coffee and took a big gulp, eyes running over the words I have written down in class. As I placed the cup back on the coffee table, the three locks on my front door were getting unlocked. I definitely told Seungcheol to leave me alone tonight, so he had no reason to be over at this hour. He was already sleeping, probably, Mingyu kept him busy lately and we barely hung out this week.

“I think I was clear when I told you I wanted to study, Seungcheol, why are you—”

“Seungcheol?” The deep voice made me jump, eyes go wide, “That’s not the right way to greet your boyfriend.”

“You’re not my boyfriend.” I snapped with an eyeroll, ignoring Mingyu, “And take off your shoes, it’s not you who cleans up the apartment.”

I heard Mingyu chuckle before he went back into the hallway to take his shoes off, “You could just ask me, you know, I’d clean up—”

“And break my stuff?” I scoffed and leaned my head back against the sofa, “No, thank you.”

“I wouldn’t break any of your stuff…” I looked up at Mingyu, to see him smirking down at me as he leaned against the doorframe.

“But?”

“I’d love to break you—”

“Get out!” I threw him a glare, which amused him, of course, and continued to take in his form. Mingyu continued smirking at me, pushed off the doorframe to sit on the sofa. He was dressed in a burgundy silk like suit, jacket undone and the black shirt’s top buttons undone to show off his neck and the pearly choker that decorated it. He wore various rings today and his black hair was curly. Yesterday it was still brushed back, but today it fell in waves against his forehead and I gulped as he finally sat on the sofa.

“Enjoying me much?” He spoke lowly and I scoffed, deciding to ignore his remark, knowing well my voice would sound too weak.

“What—” I cleared my throat as I looked back at the paper in my hands, “You’re a model now? Did you do a shoot for W Korea or something?”

My tone was mocking, and Mingyu knew it was to hide my flustered state, and it made him chuckle. He sighed loudly and dramatically fell back against my sofa, bringing his hands behind his head. He really liked sitting like that.

“I totally could become a model, right?” When we made eye contact his eyes were glinting with mischief and I rolled my eyes, deciding to remain quiet, “We had an important meeting today.”

“About?” I mused absentmindedly as I started reading the words written on my paper again.

“Don’t think about that now,” Mingyu dismissed my question as he leaned down to rest his chin on my shoulder, “What are you studying for?”

“Economy exam, so, kindly leave me alone.” I turned my head just a little bit, our noses almost brushing against each other. The hairs stood on the back of my neck as Mingyu let out a long sigh, his breath fanning against my neck and jaw.

“Do you have to study now?” He grumbled into my ear and I nodded wordlessly, not trusting my voice, “Why didn’t you study earlier this week—”

“Because you kept taking me out every single day!” I snapped, pulling away from him with a glare, “If I fail this exam it’s your fault, so, leave me alone.”

I watched as he jutted his lower lip out, “Come on, sugar, don’t be mean to your boyfriend.”

“You’re not my boyfriend…” I mumbled to myself as I leaned back against the sofa and started reading again. Mingyu remained seated on the sofa as silence stretched around the room, the soft tapping of his fingers against his muscular thigh the only sound that echoed around. His knee was close enough to my shoulder that it was just barely brushing against it and I bit my lip as I focused hard on the words and ignored Mingyu’s tempting warmth. He knew how hard it was for me to stay still when he was so close to me; and I call him clingy; but sometimes I just want to have even the smallest physical contact with him. Not tonight, Y/N, you’re really close to failing economy class, I thought to myself as my eyebrows furrowed as I read over again the same line. Mingyu’s loud sigh almost made me ask him what was wrong, but I just bit my lower lip and flipped the paper, internally groaning at another page filled with words I had to learn tonight.

“Do you like my new hairstyle?” I heard Mingyu ask faintly as his rings clanked against each other as he started toying with his fingers.

I hummed and nodded before licking my lips, “I didn’t think you’d look so hot with curly hair.”

There was a beat of silence and I felt his eyes on me, my heart picked up its pace, “So, you think I’m hot?”

“Yes.” I mumbled, feeling a sudden dryness in my mouth as I gulped quickly, refusing the urge to look back up at him. He was incredibly hot dressed the way he was today, and it was hard to not look at him, but I could do it. I was an expert when it came to ignoring Kim Mingyu.

“You’re hot too, when you’re turned on.” I didn’t have to look to see he smirk on his lips; I scoffed and rolled my eyes before reading the page from the top to the bottom again. Memorizing the information was harder when he was sitting next to me. I heard him shift on the sofa and I prayed he just wanted to lay down and torment me from there with his words, but I stopped breathing when his warm palm brushed my hair behind my shoulder and his soft lips pressed against my neck.

“Mingyu…” I sighed in warning, eyebrows furrowing when he kept pressing feather like kisses down my neck.

“Yes?” He whispered against my skin, which was now covered in goosebumps.

“I have to study,” I snapped, trying hard to resist his kisses, “I can’t fail this exam—”

“And you won’t.” Mingyu muttered close to my ear as he pressed a kiss just behind my ear, “You’re smart, you don’t have to study much. You already know this—”

“That’s what you think—” I choked on air when he bit my ear lobe teasingly, “I’m—I’m really not that—smart—”

“Sugar,” He sighed deeply and I dared to look at him, his pupils were already dilated and he smirked when he saw my face, my expression probably similar to his, “I’ll be really pissed off, if you don’t put down that paper and come make out with me.”

It wasn’t a request, and I knew it, he really wasn’t going to let me study tonight. Once again. Gulping and glancing down at the paper in my hands, I knew I really had to study right now, but when I looked back up at Mingyu, I knew by how impatient he was I had one second before he’d be pulling me over him. With a roll of my eyes, I slammed the paper on the coffee table and opened my mouth to curse at him, but his hands were around my head and his lips pressed against mine. His soft lips were familiar by now and it brought a sense of calmness over me. My eyes closed as I raised up onto my knees and gripped his thighs, earning a sigh from him.

“I don’t see you all day and even when I do, you ignore me instead of making out with me—”

“Well, Mingyu, I have a grade that I have to maintain and it’s a lot more important than your neediness—”

“Don’t be disrespectful to your boyfriend—”

“You’re not my boyfriend—” I got cut off by his lips again as he gripped me by the arms to pull me on him. He tasted like smoke and something spicy that I couldn’t identify. I straddled his hips, legs on each side, as I leaned my body into his. I let my hands run all over his chest slowly, groaning when my fingers brushed against his choker. Mingyu smirked into the kiss, his lips meeting mine hungrily as he pulled me closer into him by my bottom, squeezing it hard. I yelped and raised a bit up, pulling away from the kiss.

“I told you to stop doing that—” My chest was raising and falling a bit quicker as my eyes fell on Mingyu’s glossy lips.

“Did you drink coffee?” He asked, his voice octaves lower and it sent shivers down my spine, “It’s almost 10 pm, sugar. How will you sleep?”

“I don’t plan on sleeping tonight.” Our eyes connected, and meanwhile I meant that as in: ‘I will be studying the whole night’, I understood why it could have sounded like: ‘We’ll be having sex all night, so no need to sleep’. And Mingyu definitely thought of the second version because before I could correct his dirty mind, my hips were pulled down by his firm grip and he was sucking against my collar bones. I let out quiet breaths as my fingers finally tangled themselves into his black, curly hair and Mingyu sucked on my skin harshly. The place felt on fire as a dull pain coated the area, but Mingyu was quick to smooth it over with his tongue, which didn’t help much with the ache.

“We agreed on no marks—”

“If you pull my hair like that, I can’t help it, sugar.” Mingyu bit his lower lip as he gazed into my eyes deeply and I licked my lips, leaning down, lips brushing against each other.

“I want to rip your clothes off and kiss all over your body while you wear that choker—” Mingyu growled and all of my senses seemed to be heightened as his touch suddenly felt like it was burning into my skin, “You’re so fucking hot.”

One of his hands left my hips to grip the back of my head as he brought our lips back together and kissed me hungrily, lips bruising by the force he was using. His strong, honey like cologne enveloped my senses as I got lost in the feeling his lips were giving me. My heart was thumping loudly, lungs running out of air quickly, and every inch of my skin was on fire as I gripped Mingyu’s cheeks with both hands desperately as if he’d disappear into thin air. I never knew you could feel so much at the same time, I never knew one person alone could make you feel so alive. When I was with Mingyu time seemed to stop, people around us seemed to disappear and it was just us. I don’t know when I started trusting him so much or why I felt protected, a different kind of protection that Seungcheol and Vernon made me feel, but it happened and I realized it one day while we were walking in the park and holding hands. In Mingyu’s arms, the protection felt better and stronger, it almost felt like love. I was never in love with someone before, but maybe I was slowly falling for him.

I felt him shift us as he slid down slightly on the sofa, legs spread wider, and I realized it was to move my hips against his. His firm grip guided my hips in slow circles and I moaned when I felt his member poking through his burgundy dress pants. It sent a rush through my body, all the way down to my toes, and I gripped Mingyu’s chin to tilt his head back. He didn’t fight it as our lips moved hungrier than before, mine were already aching, and I let my tongue slip into his mouth. I swallowed his choaked moan and pressed down my hips harder against his, desperate for more friction. Mingyu moaned again and held the back of my head, his other hand slipping underneath my shirt as his hand travelled up my stomach to my breast. I bit his lower lip when he gave it a squeeze, and finally out of breath, we pulled away just barely. I smirked at Mingyu, seeing him so lost and whiney only happened during our make outs, and it was always hot and empowering. He caught his breath and his eyes darkened when he saw my satisfied expression, he stilled my hips with his hands.

“Don’t get cocky now, sugar.” His voice was husky and I let a finger run over his pearly choker before I hooked a finger in it.

“How, when I’ve got you wrapped around my finger?” He knew I was right and he knew he couldn’t say anything to deny it. I pressed my lips against his jaw and peppered light kisses against his smooth skin, his warmth made me feel like I was in an oven. I nibbled on the skin of his neck and I felt him relax as he gripped my bottom again. Wanting revenge for marking me, I chuckled against his skin before sucking down harshly on the junction of his neck and shoulder, teeth sinking into it. Mingyu hissed and was quick to push me back and look at me with a glare.

“What? You did it too.” I raised my eyebrows at him, his lips were red and plumper than usually. His hair was disheveled thanks to me and he looked so much more attractive that I kissed him again, his tongue pushing into my mouth this time. I moaned into his mouth as he squeezed my bottom again, not minding his aggressivity this time. I reached for the buttons of his shirt and started popping them open slowly. I couldn’t get enough of him and I wanted to feel more. We never did more than make out, mainly because I didn’t want to, but right now I wanted to feel all of him. Mingyu didn’t mind me and continued kissing me hungrily—until a key was pressed into the key-hole and we both froze. I pulled back stiffly, gripping onto his shoulders tightly.

“Fuck.” I cursed quietly, wide eyes staring back at Mingyu, “You need to get out, right now!”

“How?” Mingyu’s eyebrows rose as I quickly scrambled off him and tried to smooth down my clothes, “Do you want me to teleport? Because I sure as hell can’t do that—”

“Shut up!” I snapped and panicked more when the front door opened, “Please do something! You look—”

“Y/N?” Seungcheol’s deep voice rang through my apartment and my heart went wild, my worst nightmare getting confirmed. Fuck, this is so bad. Mingyu was up on his feet instantly, some of his buttons now done, but he didn’t have enough time to hide before Seungcheol would be in the living room.

“Why is your front door unlocked?” Seungcheol called loudly from the hallway, he was taking off his shoes. Mingyu walked up to me and I quickly tried to smooth his hair down as I ran my fingers through it, trying to make it look like when he arrived.

“Uhm, I—” I cleared my throat when I realized it was really dry, “I went to the—convenience store! Got back a few minutes ago and—forgot it!”

I hated lying to Seungcheol, I actually never lied to him before, and it made me feel horrible. He deserved to know the truth but I wasn’t ready yet to face his judgmental look and scolding of a lifetime. He would probably hate me and never talk to me again. What I had with Mingyu was like a safe heaven, I wanted to have it for a little longer.

“You’re an idiot!” Seungcheol was in my kitchen, probably rummaging for snacks, “I told you to always lock your door!”

“Sorry!” I called back while Mingyu picked up a hair tie from the coffee table and threw it at me, motioning at my hair. It probably looked like a bird’s nest and I clumsily pulled it into a very messy bun, which probably looked horrible. I turned to tell Mingyu to move away from the sofa, but instead he pressed one last kiss, soft and short, against my lips before stepping around me and walking towards the window. I couldn’t help but smile at him before sitting down on the ground again and picking up a random paper.

“Why are you so quiet—” Seungcheol’s voice died out when he walked inside the living room, eyes fixated on Mingyu, “Kim Mingyu.”

“Choi Seungcheol.” Mingyu turned around, the two men glared at each other. I quickly took a sip of my coffee, to make the dryness in my throat go away. Seungcheol was shooting daggers at Mingyu, as if his eyes were laser, and my heart started beating faster and faster when they remained silent. Did Seungcheol know? Did he realize what was going on before he walked in? I bit my lower lip nervously as I looked up at the two men, who were still squaring up each other. Mingyu didn’t succeed in doing all of his buttons, but at least he buttoned his jacket, which concealed a bit of his exposed chest. His hands were in the pockets of his pants and he wore an amused smirk on his lips as he dared Cheol to speak with a simple look.

“What are you doing here?” Seungcheol asked accusingly, eyes narrowing when Mingyu’s smirk widened. For a second, when Mingyu gave me a glance, my heart stopped beating. Will he tell Seungcheol? Blow everything to shreds? Mingyu promised he wouldn’t, he’ll remain quiet, right?

“Had some business to speak with sugar, of course.” Mingyu answered once his eyes were back on Seungcheol, the lie rolling off smoothly his tongue. I let out a sigh of relief and Seungcheol threw me a scrutinizing look, to which I just shrugged. Watching my best friend, I realized he was wearing similar attire to Mingyu’s, except Cheol was wearing a black turtleneck underneath his jacket.

He tsked and bit down on his lip piercing, “What business? I made it clear to stop involving her in this!”

“It has nothing to do with our meeting today, Seungcheol,” Mingyu’s voice turned reassuring and I watched as my best friend’s shoulders relaxed. What was that meeting about?, “I was just debating if I have to assign bodyguards for Y/N or not—”

“And I told you, I don’t need bodyguards!” I snapped with a glare, playing along with his lie. Mingyu scoffed and threw me a look.

“As if I care about your opinion—”

“Why don’t you assign Vernon as my bodyguard then, hmm?” I raised my eyebrows and Mingyu’s jaw ticked, he threw me a warning glare.

“I live straight across, she doesn’t need a bodyguard, Mingyu.” Seungcheol snapped, just as riled up by my words like Mingyu was. What was so bad about having Vernon as my bodyguard? He’s literally one of the few friends I have. And he’s buff, I’ve seen it when he wore casual clothes once when we went to the gym together. That was also the first and last time I went to the gym.

“And when you’re not around?” Mingyu snapped, turning his fake reason into an argument. I sighed and leaned my head against the sofa.

“Can you both stop?” I asked with a groan, lifting my head when both men stared at me, “I have to study and you’re disturbing me. Leave, both of you.”

“I’m not leaving, I just arrived!” Seungcheol snapped, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I rolled my eyes and searched for the next paper that I had to study.

“Sweet dreams, sugar.” My heart skipped a beat when Mingyu’s voice turned softer at the nickname and I bit my lower lip, peeking at Seungcheol to see him glaring at Mingyu before looking at me questioningly. I quickly cleared my expression and scowled towards the giant.

“Right,” My voice dripped with sarcasm, and for once, I really didn’t want to say hurtful words towards Mingyu, it felt wrong, “As if I could have any sweet dreams after seeing you.”

“Suit yourself.” Mingyu said with a nonchalant shrug before walking off, not casting even a glance back at me. My heart picked up again and I gulped, fearing I said something too harsh. We still bickered, but I stopped being so mean to him and I was afraid I upset him just now. Staring after Mingyu with furrowed eyebrows, I failed to notice the curious but confused glare Seungcheol was giving me. I gulped and made a mental note to text Mingyu after Cheol leaves to apologize and wish him sweet dreams.

“So,” Seungcheol grinned once Mingyu was out the apartment, leaving me anxious and stressed, “What are you studying?”

“Economy.” I answered blankly, reading through my notes. Seungcheol sat, where Mingyu was sitting a few minutes before, and laid down on my sofa, stretching his muscles.

“Ah, it’s so good to take a little rest.” He muttered to himself quietly and I hummed.

“Were you able to attend Uni classes this week?” I asked curiously as Seungcheol sighed.

“No, Mingyu had me running around to collect drugs and shit all week,” He sighed again before turning onto his side, “How was your week?”

I turned my body towards him when he poked my shoulder, “Long.”

Seungcheol giggled and I extended my arm to run my fingers through his hair in a comforting manner, “Our geometry professor is slowly killing me. He gave us three more assignments this week and we aren’t even done with the other five he gave us a month ago.”

Seungcheol grimaced and closed his eyes, “Fuck him, he’s such an ass. Who can do so many assignments? It’s not like you are robots.”

“I know…” I sighed and continued to look at Seungcheol until he opened an eye. His forehead had creased and I could see how tense he was even though he tried to relax.

“Hey,” I let my hand rest on top of his as I scooted closer, resting my chin on the edge of the sofa, close to his chest, “You can talk to me, Cheol, when things get hard. Especially now that I know everything. Stop burdening yourself so much.”

A soft smile spread onto his lips and I mirrored it, feeling my heart full of love for the person who stood by me in my most difficult moments, “I love you, you idiot.”

“I love you too, Cheol, massive asshead.” We both started giggling and he interlaced our fingers before his eyes fell on the coffee table.

“Do you need help studying?”

“Are you sure you are ready to compromise your much needed sleep?”

“Anything for the lady.”

“Where do I even start then…”

       I sighed into my scarf as I nuzzled further into it, shielding my face from the cold breeze. Spring came around but the weather was still the same gloomy and cold, like it was all winter. I gripped the straps of my backpack tightly as I leaned against the wall of the building, sipping from my warm coffee I bought from the wending machine placed in the main hall of the University. Classes were over and the economy exam written, to which I studied all night with the help of Seungcheol. I got three hours of sleep and caffeine was the only thing keeping my eyes open and brain running at this point. I really just wanted to go home and sleep until tomorrow, but I had plans with Vernon since last week for today. We decided to grab lunch together and meanwhile my stomach grumbled quietly, I still only wished to go to sleep in my warm bed, shielded from the cold breeze and loud people walking around me. My phone started ringing and I fished it out of my pocket, pushing off the wall of the building.

“Hello.” I greeted loudly as a loud group passed by me.

“Good morning,” Vernon greeted cheekily and I scoffed as I walked towards the front of the institute. I was in the garden beside the library as I had to return a few books.

“Morning was hours ago, Vernon.” I muttered with a grimace as I took another sip of my coffee.

“You sound like you just woke up.”

“I wish,” I sighed into the phone with a pout, kicking a smaller rock in front of me, “I just finished classes.”

“Oh? Already?” Vernon sounded taken aback and I heard shuffling on the line, “I thought you had afternoon classes today—”

“Did you, perhaps, forget that we agreed on a lunch date today?” I asked accusingly, stopping for a second out of surprise. But the sudden anger didn’t last for long when I realized if Vernon wasn’t ready, I could cancel and just go home and sleep.

“Sorry!” Vernon exclaimed, his voice sounded to be away from the phone, he must have put me on speaker, “I didn’t exactly forget! Just a little—”

“You forgot, Vernon.” I cut him off laughing, walking lazily by the side of the building, “It’s fine, actually.”

“How cold is it outside?” His voice was right next to the phone and I hummed as I looked around.

“Cold enough to start freezing after fifteen minutes of staying outside.” I concluded after a few seconds of thinking and Vernon shuffled again.

“Shit!” He called loudly and I chuckled as I finally got to the front of the University. Five guys walked towards me with smiles on their faces and I returned it when I recognized them from Seungcheol’s course.

“Hi, Y/N!” They greeted loudly.

“Hi, guys.” I waved a bit before continuing my walk, “You’re still there, Vernon?”

“Okay, listen—” He took a deep breath and I started grinning, knowing he was about to rush out a really long sentence in one breath, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes, because yeah, I totally forgot that we agreed on that lunch date and I’m really sorry, you can rat my ear off at the restaurant, but do you think you can go inside and wait there for me, because I’ll send you a text when I get there?!”

I laughed as I watched the little crowd gathered on the side walk curiously, “I can totally go inside and wait for you—”

My mouth fell open when a few girls moved away whispering to each other, offering me a clear view of what caused the little commotion. My heart dropped to my stomach and then it started beating faster and faster as I remained a gaping fish.

“Uhm, Y/N?” Vernon asked, confused by my sudden silence. My eyes made contact with the person’s who was laying against his metalized grey Land Cruiser, easily as tall as the car.

“Uhm, yeah—” I muttered back to Vernon as I watched a wide smirk appear on Mingyu’s lips. The guys and girls that were watching us started whispering louder and my cheeks became pink as I nuzzled further into my scarf, “I just—uh, remembered that I have to work today.”

I swallowed hard in regret for having to cancel the lunch with Vernon, but he wasn’t even ready, so I didn’t really waste his time. Mingyu’s gaze electrified my body, suddenly the fatigue I felt disappeared.

“Irene called earlier, I really forgot…” I trailed off as I slowly walked closer to Mingyu, leaving a decent distance between us. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and his muscles bulged through his black leather jacket; he raised his eyebrows.

“Ah, shit,” Vernon sighed disappointed and there was shuffling before his voice was close again, “That’s fine—I was running late either way.”

“I’m really sorry,” I apologized again, unable to look away from Mingyu, “Can we re-schedule?”

“Of course, Friday?” Vernon was excited and I hummed as I took a quick sip of my coffee.

“Friday it is, but it has to be a breakfast date.”

“I’m cool with that, talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later.” I hung up with a smile and finally looked down, breaking eye contact with Mingyu, to put my phone back into my pocket. When I looked back up his eyebrows were furrowed and he pushed off his car, with two long steps he was directly in front of me.

“Who are you going on a date with?” He asked lowly, jaw clenching.

“Vernon, and it’s not that kind of date, so chill.” I answered him while rolling my eyes and Mingyu glared at me.

“I told you to stop seeing Vernon.”

“Yeah, and you thought I’d listen to you—a possessive, manipulative, bossy—”

“Boyfriend.”

“Not boyfriend.” I gave Mingyu a look, which he returned, before he dipped his head and pressed his lips against mine. My eyes closed and his honey-like cologne filled my nostrils as his soft, tasting like smoke, lips pressed back harder. Then I realized everyone could see us, Seungcheol was still at University, he could see us.

“Mingyu.” I snapped as I pulled back abruptly, eyes boring into his.

“I just wanted to give my sugar a proper greeting—”

“Not in public, you know.” I stepped back and took a sip of, the now lukewarm, coffee.

“I’m tired of sneaking around—” Mingyu snapped and I scoffed.

“Then leave me, easy as that.” I snapped back and Mingyu’s eyes narrowed at me as he lowered his head slightly, to be eye level with me.

“You still think there’s any chance that I’ll ever leave you alone?” A cocky smirk crossed his lips and I had to bite my lower lip from letting my own appear on my lips, “I’ve been obsessed with you since the first time I saw you—”

“I’m still not very keen of you, so—” I interrupted him with a shrug, watching as Mingyu’s eyes darkened just in the slightest.

“These past three weeks we’ve spent together tell me something different, Y/N.” I scoffed, knowing well he was right and I had nothing to say back, so I pushed him back by his shoulder and side stepped him.

“You make me stay out in the cold weather when your warm car is a few feet behind, how gentlemanly of you.”

Before I could open the door for myself, Mingyu gripped my arm and pulled me back slightly, opening the door for me. I rolled my eyes and made sure he saw it as I sat inside and he shut the door for me. I sighed out as the warmth seeped through my body slowly and threw my backpack in the backseat, looking out the window as I drank the last of my coffee. Mingyu entered the car and ignited the engine to life, even more people looking our way at the loud roar of the engine.

“Just drive away and stop showing off, please.” I whined and lowered my head as I quickly buckled up the seatbelt.

“Your wish is my command.” And off we took at a rather aggressive speed. Mingyu wasn’t a patient person and he certainly wasn’t when it came to driving. He sped around like a madman even if there was heavy traffic and made dangerous maneuvers.

“I told you to stop driving like this!” I snapped as I held onto the doorhandle, fearing for my life when Mingyu sped through the third yellow traffic light.

“And you’re still seeing Vernon.” He fired back nonchalantly, his hand coming to rest on my thigh.

“You seriously can’t be comparing something like my friendship with Vernon to you trying to kill us both!” I exclaimed and almost yelped out when pedestrians went to cross the street and Mingyu had to hit the brakes hard, “Please!”

“Fine, fine,” He sighed out, glancing at me, “I’ll drive more carefully.”

“Thank you.” I snapped as my heart continued to race and his palm gave a reassuring squeeze to my thigh.

“Are you taking me home?” I asked when I saw him driving closer to my neighborhood. I couldn’t be happier; I was still tired.

“No.” Mingyu answered shortly and I groaned.

“I’m really sleep, I studied all night with Seungcheol after you left. Just take me home before I fall asleep—”

“But you could still go on your lunch date with Vernon, right? You weren’t asking him to take you home.” Jealousy and venom dripped through Mingyu’s tone and I couldn’t help giggle, amused by his reaction.

“Exactly.” I answered him, placing my palm over his before he could say anything else. I interlaced our fingers and leaned my head against the headrest.

“I’m taking you away from the city.” Mingyu spoke up and I looked at him with raised eyebrows, “But I’m not telling you where to, it’s a surprise.”

“Ah,” I sniffed and pulled my lips in a grimace, “so this is where you finally kill me?”

Mingyu groaned and threw me a quick look, his fingers squeezing mine in warning, “Stop saying shit like that, it’s not hilarious.”

“Yeah, yeah…” I grumbled and bit my lower lip, thinking of how he never answered my text I sent last night while Seungcheol was in the bathroom showering, “Was I too harsh last night? You never answered my text…”

A small smile traced Mingyu’s lips and I looked down at our intertwined hands, “No, I figured you were with Seungcheol, so I didn’t want to cause even more anxiety by answering.”

A smile spread on my lips as I looked up at him, “I was more anxious that I hurt you…”

“You can’t hurt me anymore, sugar.” His pretty smile formed into a smirk and I rolled my eyes, turning my head away from me.

“We’ll speak in the afterlife, after the cops find my body lying in a ditch somewhere.” I muttered quietly to myself, thoughts of me mysteriously dying always swarming in the back of my head. I was exposed to a dangerous world and I wasn’t stupid, I knew what dangers lurked in the shadows. Mingyu wasn’t just anyone. He was a well-known leader in the world of illegal affairs and everyone feared his power and his team. He had many enemies and he also hated many people. I knew one day I could just disappear as a statement for Mingyu from a rival gang. And I was afraid, but maybe it was worth risking it for Mingyu. If I was already going to hell, might as well truly enjoy myself in the meantime.

       It took us a whole hour by the time we got to the place Mingyu had in mind. It was a nice cozy looking house, for which you had to take the highway and then halfway a dirt road that led deep inside the forest to get to it. I looked at Mingyu questioningly a few times as he turned on the car lights, the tall pine trees obscuring the bright sunlight, but he remained focused on driving with the occasional squeeze to our intertwined fingers. I wasn’t necessarily nervous about what we could possibly be doing at a place like this, I was more nervous about what Mingyu had planed for us. Were we here to test my loyalty? Were Joshua and Jeonghan here too, to interrogate me and see if any of my answers match with what they dug up about me? Or did Mingyu just want to spend more time with me in a secluded place? Many thoughts swarmed in my head until the moment we stopped and Mingyu told me to get out of the car. His eyes were glinting with excitement and it slightly eased my nerves, even though I wasn’t sure if he was just excited about something obscure or just about being here. With the loss of the sunlight here, the air was chilly and I shuddered in the cold as I walked up to Mingyu, who seemed to be perfectly fine in the cold weather dressed thinly.

“So…” I cleared my throat and glanced at the pretty, wooden house; it looked like a cabin, “What are we doing here?”

His eyes fell on me and a smirk spread on his lips as he draped an arm around my shoulders, “Scared, sugar?”

I bit my lower lip and matched my steps with his as he started walking towards the house, “Maybe.”

Mingyu chuckled amused as we walked up onto the porch, smirk fading into a small, rare, comforting smile, “We’re here because I want to teach you something, Y/N, relax.”

“Maybe I’ll relax when you tell me what you want to teach me.” I looked up at him as he knocked on the door and he turned his head toward me, pressing a kiss against my forehead.

“I’d ruin the surprise.”

“I hate surprises.” I muttered and sighed, turning towards the door when it opened.

“Oh!” The old man seemed surprised to see us standing in front of his front door, “Mr. Kim! We weren’t expecting you today!”

Mingyu just nodded his head and brushed past the old man, pulling me after him, rudely without even waiting to be invited inside, “I haven’t visited in long. How’s Momo doing?”

The old man tensed at Mingyu’s words and I narrowed my eyes when a teasing smirk made its way onto his lips, “She’s—she’s alright.”

“Is she home?” Mingyu continued, obviously enjoying how uncomfortable the old man looked.

“She’s not—Mr. Kim.” The old man gulped nervously and I caught his eyes glancing behind us for a second. Getting uncomfortable by the interaction between the two men, I cleared my throat.

“I’m Oh Y/N,” I stepped away from Mingyu and extended my hand towards the old man, “Nice to meet you, and sorry for barging in uninvited.”

Mingyu cleared his throat behind me and I watched the old man hesitate before he shook my hand lightly, “Nice to meet you, Miss Oh. I’m Hirai Takumi.”

“Oh, just address me comfortably, Mr. Hirai.” I bowed my head a little as I felt a hand on my shoulder, but the old man quickly shook his head.

“I insist, Miss Oh.” I opened my mouth to speak up again, but Mingyu gave me a look as he pushed me inside a small kitchen.

“Stop being so rude, we didn’t even take off our shoes!” I whisper-shouted at Mingyu as Mr. Hirai rushed past us inside the kitchen.

“We don’t have to be respectful while we are here.” Mingyu said with a shrug and loudly sat in the chair by the table. I threw him a hard glare as I watched the poor old man scramble around the kitchen. I felt uncomfortable, disrespectful and pity towards him. So, I took off my shoes swiftly and left them in the doorway before I walked up to the man and took the little cups from his hands.

“But Miss Oh—” He exclaimed and I threw him a small glare to silence him. He didn’t say anything else as he took the teapot and avoided Mingyu’s eyes as he walked to the table to place it down. Mingyu was glaring back at both the man and me as I placed a teacup in front of him and the other at the vacant seat.

“That’s for Miss Oh—”

“I’m not thirsty, Mr. Hirai, take a seat and drink instead of me.” I spoke with a small smile and the old man stood rooted as he watched Mingyu. When I turned my glare at Mingyu he sighed and with a nod the old man was sitting and pouring tea for Mingyu and himself. I also sat in the last empty chair at the table and watched the two men quietly.

“Where’s your wife?” Mingyu asked after he drank from the tea.

“She’s working—in town, Mr. Kim.” The old man hurriedly answered.

“I suppose that’s what Momo is doing also?” That devilish smirk spread onto Mingyu’s lips again and I glared at him as the old man looked down at the table.

“Ye—yes.” He whispered as an answer and visibly jumped when Mingyu dumped his gun on the table. Why the hell are we here? And what is going on between these two?

“Mr.—Mr. Kim, I—”

“Hoshi will come tomorrow to talk business with you, old man, however, right now, I’m here with my woman to teach her how to shoot.” Mingyu interrupted Mr. Hirai and stood up, pulling me up from the chair as well, “I suppose you still have those weapons?”

“Of course!” Mr. Hirai sprung to his feet and bowed his head, “They are in the barn, do you want me to walk you there?”

“No, I know my way around.” The smirk was back on Mingyu’s lips and I couldn’t watch the old man flinch anymore, so I grabbed Mingyu’s arm and pulled him away from the kitchen. He paused as I took on my shoes and when I went to open my mouth and scold him, he grabbed my nape and started walking me towards the back of the house. I hissed and threw him a glare when he didn’t let go, but Mingyu ignored me as he continued to walk me from behind. I didn’t miss the way his eyes ran up the stairs and fixated on a door for a second longer than it was necessary, but the door of the barn was in front of me and I gave it a push.

“Can you let go of me?” I finally snapped, annoyed by the way he was walking me around.

“No.” Mingyu simply hummed and lightly tugged on my nape, hauling me in the opposite direction that I was trying to walk in. I threw him a side-eyed glare but he wasn’t looking at me, eyes focused on a chest. He leaned down and opened it with one hand; my eyes widened when it fell on the various weapons hidden inside.

“What is this place?” I muttered to myself, heart starting to beat quickly when Mingyu smirked back at me, with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“My fun place.” His smirk spread wider and I stepped back when he finally let go of my nape. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and watched him rummage through the weapons with a frown and grimace.

“These are all old as fuck…” He muttered to himself as he picked up a large shotgun, “I told the old man to change them…”

My stomach rumbled loudly and I looked away when Mingyu threw me an amused look, I never got to eat and I was pretty much starving at the moment. I hoped Mingyu would just ignore it and not demand the old man to serve us with food as well, I realized how much he wanted us out of his house. Mr. Hirai was terrified of Mingyu and I was so curious as to why.

“Come, sugar.” Mingyu straightened back up, with a rifle and a smaller handgun in his hands and walked to the rotten door and pushed it open. I looked at him for a second longer before I followed him out, the back of the house led directly into the woods. There was a long table placed out at least twenty steps away from where we were standing and the pine trees around the area had all sorts of men made scars in their trunks. On the long table there were ten beer bottles and Mingyu turned toward me with a serious expression.

“This,” He raised the rifle to be eye level with us, “Is an AR-15 rifle, made in the US.”

I hummed and watched him curiously, “If you push this button, the magazine comes out. First, you check to see if you have bullets, okay?”

“Okay.” I muttered quietly, hugging myself tighter. I wasn’t foreign to weapons but I never felt comfortable around them. Mingyu was serious, eyebrows frowning, as he took his time explaining the weapon and how to use it.

“You slide back the loaded magazine and then pull the charging handle,” He pulled it back easily, it made a loud clicking sound; I gulped, “If you push this down, the safety is off, you push it back up, the safety is on, understood?”

I cleared my throat and made eye contact with Mingyu, he had a dangerous glint in his eyes, “Understood.”

“Cool, now,” He hoisted the gun up, the end coming to rest against left shoulder as he came to stand next to me, “Safety off and—”

He fired twice, the loud sound made me jump and slightly step behind him, and he clearly hit two beer bottles spot on, breaking them, “That’s how you do it, sugar. Your turn.”

“Mine?” I asked with a frown, glaring at the rifle, “I don’t want to shoot with that.”

“Sugar, this is not about what you want and what you don’t want.” Mingyu said impatiently with a sigh and I heard a click, he pushed the safety on, “You have to learn this.”

“No, I don’t.” I argued with him stubbornly, taking a step back when he extended his arm for me to take the weapon, “I don’t want to hold that.”

“Y/N,” With his free hand he gripped my nape again and tugged my closer, “There will be times when no one will be able to protect you but you, yourself. Alright? You have to be ready and knowing how to defend yourself with a weapon, is the first step in your journey, okay?”

“I know how to shoot with a gun, okay?” I snapped loudly, glaring at Mingyu when his eyebrows rose mockingly, “You’re not the first person who tries teaching me how to use a gun, okay?”

“This is a rifle.”

“Rifle or whatever!” I exclaimed and slapped his arm away, “My father and Seungcheol already taught me.”

“Then show me.” He said with a shrug and pressed the rifle against my chest harshly, leaving no room for argument. I glared at him and took the weapon with a sigh, the weight of it foreign in my arms.

“If you want to teach me how to defend myself, teach me hand-to-hand combat, not this bullshit.”

“This is not bullshit,” Mingyu rolled his eyes and stopped me when I went to position the rifle against my shoulder, “What did I just teach you?”

“Check the magazine first.” I muttered and quickly pushed the button he pointed at and held the magazine in my hand. Mingyu hummed contently so I slid it back in then went to pull the charging handle, which was a lot harder to do than Mingyu made it look like.

“And you will learn hand-to-hand combat too, when the right time comes.” I threw him a glance as I raised the rifle, positioning it against my right shoulder, just like Mingyu did before. He came to stand behind me and his body warmth invaded mine, making me shudder. He corrected my posture and his finger curled next to mine on the trigger.

“Safety off.” He whispered in my ear and pressed a kiss against it, making me gulp loudly. I pressed the safety down and Mingyu took a tiny step back to watch me. I closed my right eye and started firing towards the beer cans, my ears ringing from the loud gunshots that went off next to my ear. I shot until I emptied the magazine and when I lowered the rifle, with the safety on, I frowned seeing that I only shot three bottles.

“Sugar,” Mingyu chuckled and gripped my cold, rosy, cheeks, “I thought you said you knew how to shoot!”

“I do!” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing, “With a handgun, I never held a rifle before…”

“Did no one tell you to keep both eyes open? So that you see your target clearly? You watch too many movies…” He trailed off and shook his head, pressing a quick kiss against my lips before he strolled towards the long table.

“Yeah, whatever,” I muttered to myself as I watched Mingyu place ten new bottles on the table, “Both eyes open, right?”

I raised the riffle again and placed it against my right shoulder, adjusting my grip on the trigger as I kept both eyes open, pointing it at the first bottle. Mingyu was still standing there and when he turned around, unintentionally, the rifle was pointed at him directly. The safety was still on, but he didn’t know that, and we stared into each other’s eyes, unmoving. Mingyu went stiff and I could see as his eyes darkened even from where I was standing, his shoulders moving back as he adjusted his leather jacket. He never expected me to point a gun at him, let alone a rifle, even though he’s done it twice to me now. And once he even pulled the trigger, even if it was an unloaded weapon, he pulled the trigger. His left hand sneaked in his pocket and instinctively my finger pushed the safety off and wrapped around the trigger, my body going rigid. Yes, I trusted him most of the time, but the little voices in my head telling me that he could kill me still anytime, were screaming at me that this was that time. You could never know when you had a mafia leader standing in front of you, with a hand hidden in its jacket’s pocket. I let out a quiet sigh when he pulled his hand out and held the pack of cigarettes, slowly starting to walk towards me. I subtly pushed the safety back on and cleared my throat when Mingyu stopped at the end of the rifle, chest pressing against it. His eyes still watched me like a hawk as he lit one cigarette and inhaled deeply from it. I watched, and felt through the rifle, as his lungs expanded then decreased. He blew the smoke out in one long breath and it floated into my face. I narrowed my eyes but didn’t flinch.

“What a fucking woman.” He muttered to himself with a chuckle before he stepped away, coming to stand behind me at a good distance to not bother me. I pushed the safety down and now with both eyes open, I focused on the bottles and started firing. Shards of glass flew around the table as I hit all ten this time, shattering them all in half. My heart thumped loudly and my ears rung as I lowered the rifle with shaky hands, pushing the safety back on. I turned my head to look at Mingyu, who was watching me pridefully with a big smirk on his lips.

“See what it does if you keep both eyes on the prey?” I chuckled and handed him the rifle back as he looked over it, “Well, seems like my training takes an end here.”

“So soon?” I raised my eyebrows as he took another puff of his cigarette, “You think this is enough?”

“Did you hit all ten bottles?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, this is enough for you,” He chuckled and threw his finished cigarette on the green floor of the forest, making me frown, “You said you know how to use a handgun, I have nothing else to teach you.”

“And you had to take me here? For nothing?” I groaned as Mingyu walked up to me.

“This wasn’t nothing.” He rolled his eyes and I mirrored him.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Shut up, I got to spend time with you,” He muttered and leaned down to press another kiss against my lips, longer this time. He tasted of smoke again and I pulled back when I felt his tongue trying to push my lips apart.

“No, not here,” I muttered, running my hand through his still curly hair, “I’m freezing and starving and tired. You only get a kiss if I’m satisfied with my needs.”

“Fair enough, sugar,” He smirked and intertwined our fingers, “Let’s go then, but I’m not taking you home.”

“Didn’t I just tell you what I want?” I groaned as I closed the barn door behind us, Mingyu threw the rifle on the creaky floorboards uncaringly.

“You never said you wanted to do all of that at your apartment.” His smirk was cheeky and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Where else at can I do them then?” We walked inside the house and Mingyu didn’t bother to close the door as he pulled me down the hallway.

“My house, of course,” Mingyu chuckled and glanced back at me, “There Seungcheol can’t interrupt us at least.”

I bit my lip as I thought back to the first, and only, time I was at his mansion. I wanted to argue with him more, but his mansion was too nice and he knew I liked it. It was everyone’s dream place, I wasn’t about to turn down a dinner there cooked by Mingyu, who apparently has some nice culinary skills.

“But I’m sleeping at home, Seungcheol will notice that I didn’t return for the night.”

“Fine—” Mingyu stopped in the doorway when we spotted Mr. Hirai sitting on the staircase leading upstairs, “Go clean up, old man. Sleep tight tonight and make sure to bake those pastries for Hoshi tomorrow, you know he’s nicer to you when you give him those.”

“Yes, Mr. Kim.,” Mr. Hirai bowed as he stood, averting his gaze, “Have a pleasant afternoon, Mrs. Oh.”

“Thank you, you too!” I bowed my head before Mingyu could pull me after him and I watched as Mr. Hirai’s eyes turned sad as he closed the door after us. I let Mingyu walk me to his car and open the door for me.

“Who is this man and what’s your business with him?” I spoke up once Mingyu sat inside, turning towards him.

“No one that should concern you, you won’t see him ever again—” He started the car and I frowned at his words, “So forget about him.”

“You should treat him with respect, he’s your elder.”

“And he’s also a liar and thief.” He snapped with a scoff and I looked out the window.

“Just don’t speed around, please.” I dropped the topic, not wanting to piss him off while we were in the car. Mingyu just hummed and turned on the radio, all conversation ceasing between us as I closed my eyes and let my head rest against the headrest.

          My body jumped when I felt a hand gently cup my cheek, alerting me awake. I hummed and nuzzled into the warm touch as best as I could, sighing when a finger tenderly stroked my skin. Slowly, I realized the car wasn’t moving anymore and it was quiet inside too, the radio turned off.

“Wake up, sugar, we’re home.” Mingyu whispered and I sighed, his breath fanning my face.

“Home?” I asked, voice raspy, and slowly opened both eyes. The lights coming from the outside were dim and I watched as Mingyu smiled fondly at me, his finger still stroked my cheek.

“Yeah, home.” He whispered and my heart skipped a beat at the softness of his voice, a vulnerability I’ve never heard before coating his words. His defenses seemed to disappear as he looked at me quietly, his eyes running over my face. His forehead had faint wrinkles and his lips were pouty when he was serious, his eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. His dark irises offered comfort and my heart started beating quickly, a feeling of content overtaking me.

“Did I sleep the whole ride back?” I broke the comfortable silence and Mingyu hummed, leaning closer. I watched him curiously as he pressed a long kiss to my forehead, his warm touch disappearing from my cheek when he pulled back. I wanted to grip his hand and place it back where it was, but Mingyu was out of the car before I could do that. Sighing, I took my backpack from the backseat, undid my seatbelt, and exited the Land Cruiser. Stepping outside, I realized we were standing in Mingyu’s garage, he did take me back to his mansion after all.

“How does takeaway sound?” His loud voice rang through the garage and I shivered at the coldness as I walked up to him; he was standing in front of the door that led inside the house.

“Anything that comes fast is good, I’m seriously starving.” I muttered, rubbing my empty stomach when it rumbled loudly, “I’ve never been this hungry before.”

Mingyu chuckled and intertwined our fingers as he pushed the door open and brought me inside with him. Instantly, the warm air warmed me up and my eyes fell on the pool that was inside, making a mental note to ask Mingyu to let me swim in it once. I loved spending a day or two doing nothing at the pool when it was summer.

“We have some leftover from yesterday, you can eat those before we order anything.” Mingyu spoke as he pulled me around the house, the ground floor I was already familiar with. We stopped in the hallway to take off our shoes and coats, I placed my backpack on the marble floor and put on the slippers Mingyu pushed my way.

“You’ve never been upstairs, right?” Mingyu looked at me with his eyebrows raised and I glanced behind him, eyes running up the marble staircase. I looked back at him and nodded my head no.

“Let me show you around then.” He extended his hand again and I took it, rubbing my eyes to make the sleepiness go away. We didn’t go straight upstairs, however, we walked past the marble staircase and towards the only room I haven’t seen from downstairs. He pushed the white door open and my eyes fell on different machines you see in the gym. The room was big and breezy, the air conditioning was still on as if someone had just been in the room.

“You even have your own gym, huh.” I muttered, turning my head to look at him, “I could come around and work out sometimes.”

“You go to the gym?” Mingyu asked surprised, closing the door again.

“I’ve been there once with Vernon and it was enough for a lifetime.” Mingyu’s eyebrows furrowed and I threw him a look, silencing him even before he could say anything about Vernon. We walked towards the marble staircase and Mingyu teasingly bowed his head and made way for me to go up first, but we both came to a halt when someone cleared their throat. I turned my head towards the living room, where the voice came from, and quickly jumped away from Mingyu, ripping my hand away from his.

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N,” Wonwoo’s deep voice echoed around as Mingyu glared at me for my reaction, “Also fancy seeing you two can’t greet.”

“I had no idea you were home. I didn’t see your car in the garage.” Mingyu said with a shrug and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. My eyebrows rose as I looked between the two males.

“Home?” I spoke up confused, looking at Wonwoo for answers.

“He didn’t tell you?” Wonwoo chuckled and started walking towards us, a book in his hands, “I live here too. This is our house—”

“It’s my house, but Wonwoo miraculously moved in one day without even asking me if I was alright with it, so…” Mingyu cut Wonwoo off with a scoff and I gaped at the two.

“But last time I was here—”

“I was running an errand, that’s why you didn’t see me inside.” Wonwoo answered with a smile as he stood at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the railing.

“But you picked me up—”

“Yeah,” He chuckled and started walking up the stairs, Mingyu and I made space for him, “How do you think I got here so fast? I had just arrived home when Mingyu called me.”

“I see.” I muttered and bit my lower lip as I watched Wonwoo casually strut to a room. He stopped after he opened the door and turned towards us to give us a wink before he disappeared inside and shut the door closed. Still biting my lower lip, I looked at Mingyu with a glare.

“And now why are you glaring at me?” He asked with a scoff as he continued his walk up the stairs, me hot on his tails.

“Because you never told me Wonwoo lived with you and that ultimately led to him seeing us holding hands!” I whisper-shouted, still glaring at Mingyu’s broad back.

“Wonwoo is way more observant than you think, we don’t have to tell him or show him that we are together, he already knows—”

“Because you told him!” I accused Mingyu as I followed him blindly towards a room.

“I didn’t!” He was quick to defend himself, throwing me a small glare as he opened the door, “I told you he’s observant.”

“As if I believe that, you always brag about shit, Mingyu—” I stopped talking when Mingyu grabbed my waist from behind and pushed me lightly further inside the big bedroom. It was Mingyu’s bedroom, his honey-like scent was everywhere with a tinge of light smoke floating in the air. My eyes took in the big room, a round bed sat in the middle of it, the sheets a light green. He had a big TV hung on the wall opposite the bed with a fireplace underneath it. There were some cushions laying on the marble floor here and there, the colors a mix of light green and white. He had a walk-in wardrobe that you could see inside from here and probably a private bathroom as well.  I was surprised to see so many plants inside the room and a big bookshelf filled with tons of books. A professional looking camera was placed on his nightstand, with a few polaroid’s laying messily around it.

“This is my room,” Mingyu muttered next to my ear as he rested his chin against my shoulder, “It’s a lot cooler than yours.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, nudging his side softly. Yeah, it was a lot bigger than mine, but I live in an apartment and he literally lives in a mansion.

“Is this the moment where you finally get me in your bed?” I asked teasingly, turning my head and making our noses brush against each other.

“As much as I’d love to—” Mingyu groaned and bit my lower lip playfully, “It’s not. You haven’t seen my office yet.”

“I have permission to step inside your office?” I asked him teasingly as we left his bedroom, walking towards a dark wood colored door, “Isn’t it like…forbidden for others?”

“This office? No.” Mingyu answered with an amused chuckle, pushing the door open, “The office at the headquarter is forbidden to certain people, however.”

“Can I still go inside?” I asked with a pout, making Mingyu smirk as he turned on the lights.

“We’ll see when we get there, sugar.” He let go of my hand and walked further inside, drawing the curtains closed and I pouted when the beautiful night view of the city was gone. His office was dark, unlike the rest of the house which was mostly covered in white marble, and it was also smaller. He had bookcases on both sides of the wall and a big mahogany desk sitting close to the big windows.

“Wonwoo likes to read, so these are practically his books.” Mingyu explained when he saw my eyes running over the bookcases once again.

“Did you put them here just for him?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“No,” Mingyu chuckled and leaned against his desk, “They were here before too, just a lot less filled with books.”

“You don’t like to read?” I hummed as I walked around the room, my fingers running over the material of the black, leather sofa.

“Not my favorite activity.” Mingyu muttered and I hummed as I pulled the curtain just a bit to be able to peek outside.

“What’s your favorite activity…besides stalking me.” I added with a pointed look towards Mingyu and he laughed quietly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Other than ruining others lives, you mean?” He mused quietly to himself, watching me as I walked up to him, coming to a stop in front of him, “Spending my time with you.”

I fought the smile that tried to break onto my lips and crossed my arms in front of my chest, trying to look at him accusingly, “Before me? I wasn’t always in your life.”

“I didn’t do much before,” He said with a shrug and extended his arms, to rest them against my waist, “I invest too much of my time into my work and I don’t have time for other activities that I could enjoy—”

“Come on!” I groaned and undid my arms, resting them on his shoulders, “You were a kid too once! You definitely didn’t sit around your house every day, doing nothing.”

Mingyu’s eyes darkened at the mention of his childhood and I raised my eyebrows questioningly, stepping between his legs when he pulled me into him. He watched me with narrowed eyes before pressing his lips against mine. I rolled my eyes but kissed him back, excusing him for dodging the subject for once. He hated talking about his childhood and whenever I brough it up he did something to change the subject. I knew it wasn’t my place to constantly push him, but I just wanted to get to know him better. Knowing someone’s childhood gave you an insight onto that person, a chance to get to know them better, to paint a general image of them. Mingyu was an enigma and I always wanted to know more about him, feeling like there always would be layers that I wouldn’t get to, because there wasn’t enough time for us.

“I like taking pictures.” He muttered against my lips as he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes still closed. I hummed and pressed a soft kiss against his left cheek, then his right cheek. Mingyu sighed quietly and I smiled, pecking his nose.

“You’re tired,” I muttered and he opened his eyes, pupils dilated, “Let’s order that takeout and call it a day…we are both tired, actually.”

“Are you sleeping over then?” Mingyu asked hopefully, eyes fixated on my lips. I licked them and unconsciously leaned further into him, letting his warmth envelope me.

“No, I’ll call a cab.” I whispered and shut him up with a kiss, easily slipping my tongue inside his mouth as he opened his to argue. He tasted like smoke and something sweet, and I yelped when I was hoisted up in the air, legs wrapping around Mingyu’s hips in fear that he’d drop me. He kissed me hungrily as he turned around and my ass came in contact with the hard surface of the wooden desk, as Mingyu gently placed me on top of it. My fingers tangled in his curly hair and I pulled on the roots when Mingyu harshly sucked on my tongue, making me tighten my legs around his hips.

“I can never get enough of you.” Mingyu mumbled against my lips and I smirked, playfully biting his jaw, “You’re so sweet.”

We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment and then our lips were moving against each other feverishly again, my fingers tangled in his locks at his nape, as Mingyu tried to push me down on the desk. I placed one hand on the desk and leaned down on that elbow, Mingyu’s hand running down from my neck, breasts, to the hem of my shirt. He slipped his warm hand underneath and I moaned at the feeling, heartrate picking up once again. My cheeks were flushed and my lungs screaming for air, but I could never get enough of his lips. He ignited a fire inside me that I never wanted to stop feeling. As Mingyu’s hand started traveling up on my skin, I buckled my hips instinctively and he groaned when I accidentally grinded down on his growing member. My back curved the slightest when he let his hand rest on my breast, feeling the perky bud, and my free hand travelled to the belt of his pants, fumbling around to undo it.

“Mingyu—Oh!” The shrieking voice made Mingyu and I jump and we bumped our foreheads together. I hissed and Mingyu stared into my eyes for a second with want and regret, before pulling back from me and helping me sit straight up on the desk. I huffed and ran a hand through my hair, angry that yet again someone interrupted us, but anxious that someone caught us making out. However, when my eyes fell on a familiar blonde head, they narrowed into slits. What’s the blonde woman from the auction doing here? Do Mingyu and her know each other?

“Kim Mingyu!” She shrieked again, seemingly unphased by what she saw a minute ago, and completely ignored my existence. I glanced at Mingyu questioningly as his infamous smirk was back on his lips, he seemed to be ignoring me too. I cleared my throat and got off the desk, standing up straight. The woman walked inside with swaying hips, her short and revealing dress clung to her body perfectly.

“I wasn’t expecting you tonight, Sana.” Mingyu’s tone got velvety and almost flirty. I narrowed my eyes at him as the woman, Sana, giggled with a high pitch and stopped incredibly close in front of Mingyu. My jaw clenched when Mingyu didn’t step back, instead he pressed a kiss against the corner of her mouth. I gulped down the anger that was bubbling up and cleared my throat again, gaining their attention for once. All warmness, vulnerability, and affection were gone from Mingyu’s eyes as he watched me with a neutral expression, his smirk never faltering. The woman raised one eyebrow and extended her hand giggling.

“Minatozaki Sana,” She said with her high-pitched voice, I realized that’s what her voice was like, “And you are…”

“Oh Y/N.” I took her hand and gripped it firmly, shaking it with a warning squeeze, but I made sure to keep my voice leveled and warm. I didn’t know if my anger was showing, or the discomfort I was feeling, but Mingyu seemed to grow amused at the exchange between Sana and I.

“Oh!” Sana exclaimed once again and I let go of her hand, not missing the subtle glare, “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”

“Oh,” I faked my confusion, eyebrows softly furrowing, “We’ve met before? I don’t think so…I usually remember significant people.”

Sana gulped and a sweet smile ran over her lips as an airy chuckle left her mouth, eyes running over my body in a quick check out.

“Well…” She spoke up, placing a possessive hand on Mingyu’s shoulder, “My memory must be better than yours than…I’m here to talk business, Mingyu, who’s she again?”

I looked at Mingyu, biting the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from ripping her hand off my man. She clearly saw us making out, what was she putting on this act for? I watched Mingyu expectantly and impatiently, but he didn’t even look at me as he answered Sana.

“You’re here for business, right? Then who she is, is not important.” I took a deep breath, counting to five to stop myself from punching Mingyu and dragging this woman away from him by her fake blonde hair. Sana giggled and looked back me, her red lips pulling into another sweet smile, but her eyes narrowed malevolently. I glared at Mingyu, but when he avoided eye contact, I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone to talk business.” I snapped with a honey-like tone, threw Sana a warning glare, then strutted to the door and slammed it hard behind me once I was out the room. My jaw clenched as I took deep breaths, palms turning into fists as I stopped myself from waltzing back inside the office to drag the woman out and away from Mingyu. I cleared my throat and my eyes fell on Wonwoo’s closed door; would I be bothering him very much if I were to ask him to drive me home? I didn’t like bothering him, but I really needed to rant to someone right now, and he was the only one who, apparently, already knew about Mingyu and I. But feeling like I would be bothering him, I stormed downstairs and into the kitchen, opening Mingyu’s fridge aggressively. If I didn’t eat right now, I think I’ll pass out. I took out the leftover rice that sat at the back of the fridge and one big tomato. I sat at the marble counter and started eating, stuffing my mouth with nothing else but rice and tomato. My blood was boiling at the thought of that filthy woman staying alone with Mingyu in his office to talk business. If she acted like that when I was around, even though she doesn’t know I’m Mingyu’s girlfriend, then I don’t even want to imagine what she’s doing right now, when I’m not there. I sighed and paused eating, closing my eyes to clear my mind. I can’t be this jealous, I’m not a jealous person; I have to trust Mingyu. Would he really chase me for six months to leave me for the first woman that throws herself at him? I’m sure this happens very often, he’s a very handsome and powerful man, but it still leaves a bad aftertaste in my mouth. What if him chasing me for six months was just his way of having a little fun? What if I am worth nothing in his eyes, like he said, I’m not important. But then all those tender moments we shared the past three weeks were fake? When he looks at me so vulnerably, that can’t be fake, right? I sighed and rose to my feet to start rummaging around the cupboards, see if I could find anything to cook dinner for Wonwoo, myself and…Mingyu. I’m sure Wonwoo hasn’t eaten anything as the fridge is pretty much empty and there’s no takeaway.

           In the end, I found some noodles hidden deep inside a cupboard, and as they weren’t expired yet, I decided to cook them. They didn’t have anything much around, so I just boiled the water for it and cut the bags containing the flavor open. I heard feet thudding lightly against the marble floors as they descended the stairs and I tensed, ready to see Sana’s annoying face. But I was met instead with a smiling Wonwoo.

“Ah, what smells so tasty?” I chuckled and sighed out, raising a stray noodle into the air.

“I found some not expired instant noodles in your cupboard, so…I guess that’s what we are having for dinner.” I said with a shrug and Wonwoo walked inside the kitchen, sitting at the counter, opposite me.

“That sounds great.” He muttered and placed his book on the counter, intertwining his hands and resting his chin on top of them, “I’m really hungry.”

“Yeah, I’ve been starving the whole day. I only had breakfast.” I answered him, eyes falling on the half eaten rice I found in the fridge, “When Mingyu said you had some leftovers, I didn’t think he meant just rice.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo laughed, his deep laughter bringing a smile onto my lips, “I cooked his favorite dish, we ate it all.”

“He has a favorite dish?” I muttered with a sigh, letting my shoulders slouch as the noodles were almost cooked.

“I heard Sana is here—”

“Who wouldn’t hear her shrieking voice?!” I said with a scoff and Wonwoo nodded. As I looked at him, I just noticed he was wearing round glasses.

“She can be annoying, yeah.” Wonwoo said quietly, fingers tracing the cover of his book, “You don’t have to worry—”

“I’m not!” I snapped a bit too quickly, clearing my throat when Wonwoo shot me an understanding look, “There’s no—nothing to worry about, right?”

“There really isn’t.” He answered back reassuringly and I hummed, turning off the gas underneath the boiling noodles.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses…” I trailed off with a smile and Wonwoo chuckled, pushing them up on his nose.

“I have bad eyesight, I’m too lazy to wear contacts at home.” He explained as he opened his book to the page where he left off at.

“I understand…” I muttered quietly as Wonwoo went back to reading. Finding a strainer after five minutes of searching for it, I poured the hot water with the noodles into it, filtering the two apart. I dumped the noodles back into the pot I boiled them in and sprinkled the bag containing the sauce and flavor over it, mixing them well together. Wonwoo continued to read as I moved around the kitchen quietly, preparing three plates and chopsticks for us to eat with. Just as Wonwoo closed his book and took his glasses off, voices from upstairs filled the silence as they grew closer and closer. Wonwoo and I shared a look and I leaned against the cold counter; arms crossed in front of my chest.

“Stop! That was so funny!” Sana shrieked as they came in view, eyes widening when she saw me still there.

“You cooked dinner?” Mingyu’s eyebrows rose as his neutral expression slipped a bit.

“She did, so hurry up with your business, Mingyu.” Wonwoo spoke instead of me, his deep voice demanding and accusing. Sana’s eyes traveled between the three of us and a sick smirk crossed her lips, she clapped her hands together and made a sound of disbelief.

“You finally hired a maid, Mingyu!” The oxygen left my lungs and I felt as my cheeks slowly grew warm, teeth clenching so hard together, I was afraid I’d break them. Mingyu’s jaw ticked as well, but he did a good job of smoothing out his expression, even having the audacity to laugh. Wonwoo was on his feet, arms crossed in front of his chest, as he glared at Sana unimpressed.

“She’s—”

“I’m unsure how you run things in Japan, Sana, but I’m sure your mother, or sister, or brother, or father aren’t your maids… I mean, you cook too, don’t you?” I asked, while pushing my hair behind my shoulders, chuckling fakely, as I watched Sana’s smirk slowly slip from her lips, “I wish I could invite you to have dinner with us, but, Mingyu, my boyfriend, forgot to tell me he was having you over for business…”

Upon hearing me call Mingyu my boyfriend, Sana’s amused expression disappeared altogether and I could see Wonwoo smirk from my peripheral vision. Even Mingyu’s lips pulled up in a big, prideful, smirk and he placed a hand on Sana’s shoulder, rather harshly.

“You heard my girlfriend, I’ll see you soon for more business, Sana,” He turned the blonde woman around and walked her towards the front entrance, “Lovely seeing you tonight.”

“Ah,” We could hear Sana giggled, “Sweet dreams, Mingyu.”

I took a seat at the counter and pushed the pot of noodle in the middle; Wonwoo sat down too, but he didn’t stop smirking. I threw him a small glare as I put noodles in my plate and he too put some in his, as Mingyu’s loud footsteps approached us. I looked up at him when he stopped next to me with a glare and his smirk extended into a wide grin, his canines showing.

“I’m your boyfriend, huh?” His tone wasn’t mocking, it was pleased, and I glared at him.

“Sit down and eat while there’s still food.” I snapped and looked away from him, eyes falling on an amused Wonwoo.

“You’re not my boyfriend.” I snapped and made sure he heard me, especially after this whole thing with Sana.

“Really? Because you clearly—”

“Wonwoo,” I cut Mingyu’s words off, ignoring him when he scooted his chair closer to mine, “Would you mind driving me home?”

“Of course, not—”

“I’ll drive you home.” Mingyu said with a scoff, but I just ignored him. I don’t want to see him tonight anymore, or I might punch him in the face.

“Thank you, Wonwoo, I appreciate it a lot.” I offered the man a smile and he returned it, sneaking a glance towards Mingyu. I could feel Mingyu glaring at me as he dumped the remaining noodle on his plate, but I didn’t look at him.

“And Wonwoo—” Wonwoo looked at me with his eyebrows raised, chewing his food, “Please, don’t tell anyone about Mingyu and I.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” He muttered reassuringly and I sighed quietly, slowly eating my food. Even my appetite was gone now. I felt Mingyu shift beside me and then he was pressing his lips against my cheek in a hasty kiss. I ignored it, but my heart skipped a beat. I needed a day, at least, to cool off and forget about Sana, and how Mingyu acted around her towards me.

“Thank you for cooking dinner.” Mingyu whispered into my ear and I hummed, staring down into my plate as I continued eating the food I cooked. Yeah, I definitely need to sleep as soon as I get home.

Part 4

[darling-cas]

Hoax (an original story)

I amaze myself sometimes. 

My therapist says I need to go back to things that bring me joy, says I need to find happiest in life again. During one specific session, I was asked to name a time when I was truly at peace, a time I felt moments of pure joy outside of my partner and friends. The first thing that came to mind was a time years ago, when I would post stories here, on this website, for you all to see.

This surprised me honestly, because if you knew me personally (*cough* hi @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie *cough*) you would know the amount of stress and pressure I put myself under when it came to writing We Are Young, Whatever It Takes, etc, etc, etc. But despite all the negative emotions, the moments that always stand out to me is sitting on my laptop after I clicked post, watching all the love and adoration pure in from each and every one of you.

I say this monthly but, I really do want to get back into writing. Thanks to my therapist and business major partner, I’ve been dipping my toes into editing for others as a side job. But I want to make my way back to writing my own stories and sharing them with even the smallest corner of the world. This story, Hoax, I wrote actually one year ago, when I first started therapy and after a hard heartbreak. It helped me feel like myself again and lifted me out of the darkness.

I hope, for even the smallest number of you, it does the same. I hope you can feel the same magic that I felt when I wrote it. Take this as a thank you for, years ago, bringing me such joy and happiness.

Until next time...

Cas.

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

The air was midsummer sweet.

It was an Indian summer of blue sky dreams and late evening tears, with the weather shifting moods in the blink of an eye. Grey clouds would eclipse the setting sun with their mighty fists, soaking up the colour of the earth like ink drenching a cotton ball.

And with the continuous alternating weather came the busty smell of sunblock and wet grass. Summer scents combined with the salty air and pungent fish that cling to Jake’s senses from the moment he started his journey along the coastal towns.

His mountain travels started just mere days ago. The task of hiking the grand peak was something he was finally going to cross off his bucket list. Dipping into his savings and requesting a week or two off work was a small price to pay when it came to the tranquility and beauty laid bare before him.

Born and raised on the outskirts of the city, there hadn't been much nature for him to appreciate and admire growing up. But from the moment Jake entered the first small, close-knit fishing town, all he could seem to do was appreciate and stare in outright awe.

The land laid undisturbed all around; the mountains, the trees, the ocean, they had all planted their roots, dug in their heels, and refused to surrender. Cities had been conquered, the vast expansion of country fields and towering summits were placed in chains, forced to give themselves to man. But here, on the coast of fishing villages, it seems as if Land and Man came to an agreement, a compromise, an understanding, to live in peace as one. 

Roads of all kinds swerved, twisted, curled up and down along the coast, between the trees. Houses of unnaturally charming bright blues, yellows, oranges, and greens sat gracefully against the mountain rocks, climbing up the forest-speckled cliffs. Homes and buildings of sea-weathered colour rested on the broken shoreline. Boats bobbed in the water, their docks reaching out towards the horizon like fingers longing to reach and touch a disappearing lover.

In the coastal towns, driving along the sunset stained ocean, Jake swore he would never see true beauty again.

Even now, when the sky wept tears of sorrow, its beauty never vanished.

The weather came on suddenly, as he passed the welcoming sign for Higdon's Harbour. The roads became slick, a  ghostly fog settled in, and the colours were muted a few shades darker by the clouds above. Rivers trickled down the mountain side, disappearing into shallow ditches. Waves started to leap and jump to catch the increasing wind. All while the sky cried on and on.

Jake drove on through the town. Classic rock thumped softly in the background and raindrops tapped on the roof of the car. He had planned not to stop for the night until the next town over. He had driven through several rain storms since the start of his trip, and this was nothing.

But the cracks in the sky's broken heart continued to grow with exceptional pain. Tears of despair quickly turned to tears of anger. The beating on the car became more aggressive as the wind wailed daunting threats and the ocean frantically waved its arms.

It became too much, too quick. Jake was used to driving through bad weather, but not seaside storms. Not gusting winds and sideways rain. Plus, he decided, he was already making good time. So when the flashing green neon sign reading Beaumont Motel came into view, he didn’t hesitate to pull off the road, into the parking lot, and turn off his car.

A bell jingled above as Jake pushed open the door. He stepped into the warmth of the lobby, drenched through his clothes and soaking the carpet under his feet.

“Turned nasty out there real quick, didn’t it?”

Jake threw off his hood, shaking out his damp, blonde hair as he caught sight of an older woman with long grey hair smiling at him from behind a wooden desk.

She pulled her beige cardigan closer around her, brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “Looking for a room, hun?”

“If you happen to have one available,” Jake replied, walking towards the desk and setting down his backpack. Judging by the lack of cars in the parking lot, he was more than confident there were plenty of empty rooms. Still, he glanced at the woman’s name tag and flashed her a smile. “Vera.”

“Oh, hun,” Vera chuckled. Her fingers tapped away on the computer that looked too new to be in the small, tacky, lobby with flower-patterned wallpaper. A lobby that was decorated with simply a small sitting area off to the side, a dusty fireplace warming the room, a dark wooden desk, rouge carpet, and outdated lighting fixtures. “I think I have one or two available. For how long will we be seeing your handsome face around?”

“Only a night,” Jake said. “I’m just passing through.”

“Storm pushed you off the road, huh?” Vera turned around and grabbed a key off one of the hooks on the wall. “It should only last the night. Nightly storms are common for us during this time of year. Here you go, hun.”

“Thank you!” Jake took the key before picking up his bag once more, throwing it over his shoulder.

“If you’re looking to warm up a bit, Kay & Elle, the pub next door, is open for a few more hours,” Vera informed him, fixing her wool cardigan on her shoulders. “A lot of the locals inhabit the place, but we’re friendly folks here. I’m sure they’ll keep you entertained for a bit.”

“Thank you for the suggestion!” Jake pulled his hood back over his head. “Have a good night, Vera.”

She waved him off with a dazzling smile. “Enjoy your short time at Higdon’s Harbour.”

Rain beat down around Jake as the lobby door closed behind him. The sticky air promised an onslaught of thunder and lightning, but it had yet to develop. With a glance at the metal key in his hand, Jake made out a marked 9 engraved at the top. His toes were cold as he quickly made it to the door and inserted the key before pushing the door open and stepping into the musty smelling room.

It was just as drab as the lobby. The double-bed was dressed in off-white coverings. Cream walls, dark carpet, and tacky seaside pictures. Along with two side tables by the bed, a small TV on top of a mini fridge, and a bathroom door on the far wall.

It wasn’t the nicest looking room he’d ever stayed in, but he would also be lying if he said he hadn’t stayed in worse before. 

With a tired and uncomfortable sigh, Jake tossed his bag onto the bed, peeled off his wet coat, and padded off into the bathroom.

He never really thought of going to the pub Vera had mentioned. His only plans that evening consisted of taking a scalding shower before crawling into bed. Maybe watching some TV or reading the book at the bottom of his bag to spice up the night.

Yet, once the two former items on his agenda were checked off, an uneasiness fell over him. Neither the TV nor his book could hold his attention. The bedsheets itched his legs. His heart thumped in his chest, just fast enough to be noticeable. He couldn’t sit still.

Lightning flashed outside and Jake’s head whipped in the direction of the window. The pub came into view; the two porch lights twinkled in the dark and laughter sounded in time to the pounding storm. It shimmered in the lightning’s afterglow, the rain creating a silver mist of magic around the stone building.

Jake tossed off the sheets and threw on some clothes and his damp jacket. The pull in the pit of his stomach pushed him towards the front door without Jake even really realizing what he was doing. But he chalked it up to boredom and the anxiety of being knocked off his schedule.

He left the warmth of his room behind, almost crashing into a figure as he gently closed his door. An apology was on the tip of his tip tongue when a feeling of nausea washed over him. He felt dizzy, stomach turning. But it was gone between one blink and the next, along with the person. Jake got a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye followed by bells and laughter as the door to room 8 snapped closed. 

The thunderous weather started to overload Jake's senses and the urge to get to the pub was greater. With his head down, the figure fading from his memory, Jake made his way across the parking lot.

A drink or two would kill some time, he thought to himself. At least it would help settle the uneasiness and put him to sleep.

The mist around the pub seemed to glow as Jake drew closer, but he was too busy keeping the rain out of his eyes to pay much mind to it. Warmth shot up his arm as he pushed the door open, a jingle filling the room.

The smell of liquor and smoke tainted with the slight scent of sweat greeted Jake as he stepped over the threshold of Kay & Elle. The low rumble of a banjo filled the space, bouncing off the wooden rafters, mixing with the low mumbles and chuckles of the clusters of people scattered around the room. It wasn’t a full house, but crowded enough given the storm outside.

With his footsteps sounding off the wood floors, Jake made his way to the dark-oak bar. He received a few stares and nods of acknowledgment as he walked by men and women alike, sitting at tables and standing by pool tables. As he walked past, he took in the stone walls, the empty stage in the back, the shimmering yellow lights, and the photos of fishermen, smiling ladies, and vast landscapes littered throughout the walls. 

He took off his jacket, his heart having settled from the moment he entered the pub. Jake wasn’t a man who believed in faith, but in his bones, deep in his marrow, he knew this was where he was meant to be, for whatever reason.

“Well ain’t you a fresh face,” the elder man behind the bar remarked as Jake sat in one of the barstools, just a few seats down from a hunched over figure nursing a glass of whiskey.

Jake placed his wet jaket on the chair beside him as he chuckled. “Hard to be a stranger in this town.”

“Small-town life, my boy. Everyone knows everyone.” The man threw a towel over his shoulder, his dark hair pulled back in a low pony-tail, causing the wrinkles on his slim, tan face to be on full display. His green eyes sparkled in welcome and his smile pulled at the faded scar on his left cheek. “Passing through?”

The dim lights jumped and danced off the many bottles lining the wall behind the bar. A muted glow hugged the bar, the music changing to the beat of a fiddle.

“I am, but the storm took me off the road for the night,” Jake explained.

“You staying at the Beaumont?”

Jake nodded. “The woman, Vera, recommended I stop by for a drink.” 

The words tasted bitter, full of half-truths and false tales. But Jake wasn’t sure why, just as he wasn’t sure how to explain his need to be sitting in the pub at that particular moment.

“That woman,” the elder man chuckled with a shake of his head. “She sends more business this way than any billboard ad ever could. Well, have a drink while you’re here…"

“Jake.”

The music skipped a beat as the fiddle played a harsh note. The air turned bitter and cold. Jake’s limbs urged him to run, screamed that he made a mistake, scolded him for giving his name so willingly. But it was a reflex; the word leaving his lips before he understood what was happening. An impulse came over him, the same one that pulled him to obey the man's demand and order a drink.

No one seemed to notice the odd behaviour, aside from the hunched over figure a few seats down. His depthless brown eyes flashed to Jake, grey hair falling across his pale, sweaty forehead. There was a look of pain and madness in those eyes. Jake opened his mouth to say something when a draft of beer appeared in front of him. And suddenly he couldn’t remember why his limbs felt tense or why there was a cold sweat on the back on his neck.

“Nice to meet ya, Jake,” the bartender smiled with a gleam in his bottle-green eyes. “Name’s Murphy.” 

“Likewise,” Jake raised his drink before bringing the glass to his lips, downing half of it in a few gulps.

The hunched man tipped back the last of his whiskey, slamming the glass hard on the bartop.

“Murphy,” he spoke in a husky voice, like the sound of asphalt and gravel.

A flash of irritation, with just a hint of sadness, came over Murphy's face. He didn’t say a word as he quickly prepared another glass, sliding it gently in front of the stranger.

“Take it easy, Harold. That’s your third now.”

Harold grunted, shooting back half the glass without a word.

Murphy sighed, every other emotion but worry washing from his face for the smallest moment, before he turned back to Jake with a smile on his lips.

“So, where were you headed before the rain knocked you off track?”

After another smaller sip of beer, Jake explained his mountain travel plans and his desire to reach the great peak that waited for him at the end.

“Good on ya. Do it all now while you’re still young and can move about,” Murphy said with a chuckle. “This a solo trip? Or are you with someone special? Perhaps they’re waiting for you back in your room?”

“No,” Jake chuckled, ignoring the grunt of clear annoyance from the man a few seats down from him. “Just me.”

A glimmer appeared in the old man's eye. “So no one speical then? No sweetheart waiting for ya?”

Glass rattled as Harold slammed his empty drink back down on the bar.

Jake cast a sideways glance at the stranger. Restlessness rushed through him as he slowly sat up straighter. Tension gripped his limbs as Harold turned to look at him. Those unnaturally dark eyes shined with intensity. They held so much knowledge, so much pain, so much fury that Jake couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t waste your time with such things, boy,” Harold grumbled, voice rough and firm. His brows were pulled together so tight they were touching, as the bar cast his face in shadows of back and grey. “Love is pointless.”

He said the word love with such hatred, Jake felt as if the stone structure surrounding them would cave in and collapse. 

Murphy, for his part, looked just as on edge. It was a fact that did little to calm Jake's sudden nervousness. 

“Harold,” he sighed. “Let’s take a moment-”

“There is one thing that is certain when it comes to love,” Harold continued, eyes gazing unblinkingly at Jake. “It is nothing but pain. Love is made up of pain and heartbreak and bitter ends. It is a useless and pointless part of the whole damn human existence.”

A hush fell over the bar, as if even the other guests could sense the mood Harold had brought about. The upbeat tone of the fiddle suddenly switched to a soulless wail. . A shiver ran up Jake’s spine and he begged his body to turn away, to dismiss the man and be done with it. But he couldn’t. His unmerciful gaze pulled him in and suddenly Jake was drowning in the scent of liquor and smoke and dead leaves and depthless seas. 

“You fight so hard." Harold gripped his glass, and a crack started to appear. “You fight with all you have and give yourself completely and it's no good. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you do is good enough. Love is about fighting a losing battle and in the end, only one person suffers the consequences. And it's usually the one who fought the hardest.”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was firm, loud, booming over the music as Jake jumped back in his seat. He didn’t realize how intently he’d been listening to Harold. How he was hanging on to every word like it was air. Or how, while talking to the terrifying man, for the first time since entering the town, Higdon’s Harbour glowed with colour.

An angry, remorseless, pulsating red colour.

Harold held Jake's gaze for a moment longer, intense eyes cast in complete shadow, before turning back to the bar.

“Thanks for the advice,” Jake found himself saying, voice shaking more than he'd like to admit. He didn’t mean to speak, the words simply rushed out of him with an aftertaste of smoke. 

Clearing his throat, Jake downed the last of his beer before pushing the glass towards Murphy for a refill.

A hush fell around them for just a few moments, the tension already starting to subside. Jake felt his shoulders drop as he slowly sipped his beer and Murphy slid Harold a glass of water. After some small talk with the old bartender, Jake felt himself able to breathe once more. His body started to relax, the fog lifting from his head. He was breaking the surface and forgetting all about the darkness of the ocean and the murdered limbs of the trees on the forest floor.

While on his third drink, Murphy started to get busy with the other parties of the bar. Tables started to ask for refills, and drenched couples walked through the door, the wind roaring behind them. He drifted more and more between the bar and the tables. And it was about that time that Jake decided he would soon be calling it a night.

“You shouldn’t have stopped, boy.”

Ice crawled up Jake’s spine at the sound of that sandpaper voice. Murphy was off to some seemingly remote corner of the bar. Jake couldn’t help but notice that every new body who walked in stayed far away from the bar, from him, and from Harold.

Jake gripped the tall draft in his hand, foam and condensation running through his numb fingers. 

He turned to face Harold, those black soulless eyes dragging him into the abyss. He was in a freefall, too much rushed through him all at once. A thumping started at his left temple and his heart dropped to his stomach as he fell and fell and fell from the bowels of the sky through the open arms of the corpse-like trees.

“You shouldn’t have stopped,” Harold spat, teeth clenched and head hung low. “You should get out of this cursed town before they get you too. They know you’re here. They knew you’d be here before you knew you’d be here. They got to the rest of this damned town. They got her. Get out before they get you too, boy.”

Fear rooted Jake in place. Fear for what, he couldn’t tell. But in the back of his mind, in the depth of his soul, he knew Harold was right. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have stopped. Yet, the thought of leaving caused his heart to clench and spots to form behind his eyes. Without his control, he found his lips forming the words - 

“Who are they?”

The lights flickered with the time of the thunder clashing outside. The fiddle faded out and the haunting strings of a violin floated through the room, accompanied by a soulful woman's wail.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t provoke this man. He should just pay his tab, get up, and leave. But it was unexplainable, much like the whole night had been. He simply couldn’t help himself.

Harold completely turned to Jake. The harsh lines on his face caught the glow of the dim lights. His eyes burned with unattainable wisdom and passion. Jake's heart started to race, limbs locking into place as he noticed the music slowed. Along with, somehow, every other body and soul in the bar. A haze filled the room, a mist blurring and engulfing everything that was not Jake and was not Harold. Even the storm seemed to hush, with only the woman's cry continuing on.

“Let me tell you a story, son.” Harold’s voice turned mystical, the words floating in the air between the two. “Cause I’ve lost my friends, my family, this whole damn town, and yet no one will believe me. They think I’m a nut-case, a man full of grief. But I ain’t, you hear? And maybe you’ll believe me. Maybe you won’t. But they took my wife-”

“Your wife is missing?”

Jake’s pulse jumped as Harold leaned in close, his blood-shot eyes burning crimson red. “For years now. Cause they took her.”

“They?” Jake repeated, feeling physically ill.

Harold nodded. “The fairies.”

He should have laughed. He should have backed off. His mind should have been yelling at him that the man was senile, crazy, insane. He should have bid him goodbye, called over Murphy, and been done with this place, this man. This man who was staring at him with all the earnestness in the world.

Fairies.

The word danced around in his head, bells and whistles suddenly joining in with the escalating violin. Suddenly, the whole town made all the sense in the world and yet, none at all.

“Fairies?” Jake spoke slow and steady. “They’re just folklore. A myth.”

Even as he said it, the words turned to dust on his tongue. He wanted to wash the taste out with his beer, but found he genuinely couldn’t move. 

“The Harbour Fairies,” Harold whispered. “Nasty creatures. And if you believe they’re just a myth, you’re as foolish as the rest of them. If you believe there isn’t more to this world, that we’re the only beings here, you’re blin. These aren’t just some little buggers who pick your berries and sprinkle dust. They are savage, mischievous demons.”

Jake started to shake his head, mostly to clear the fog that had started to form. “I don’t-”

“We here grew up wearing our clothes inside out and carrying bread in our pockets to stop the little people from leading us astray,” Harold spoke with more urgency than Jake had heard all night, “But little good it did. Everyone was blinded by what was right in front of them. These creatures play tricks. Oh, they love tricks. And not the fun kind. No, the kind that leads you over a cliff or dead at the bottom of the sea. They are unpredictable forces of nature who lead you in the woods, and suddenly you're never heard of again.”

“And they got your wife.”

“They stole her,” Harold spat the words into the air. His gaze flicked towards the red-head who walked past them, beer in hand, before he spoke again. “They took her from me. Everyone here believes she ran away, but I know. I caught them you see, I saw it with my own two eyes. One day she was in the garden, the next…”

… she walked into the woods, never to be seen again. Jake knew because he saw it himself. He watched it play out in Harold’s aged eyes. And suddenly he was inserted into a story that was not his. He didn’t feel right; too tight in his skin, eyes unable to properly focus on the greys, blacks, and whites of the world. But he still watched.

A grass-stained seven year old boy cradled the arm of a pretty girl with messy blonde hair. They sat in a treehouse, feet dangling over the edge, kicking at the clouds. The girl had tear-tracks running down her cheeks and dead flowers stuck in her hair. She was biting her lip, nodding as the boy spoke.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” he whispered sternly.

“I didn’t mean to,” her lips trembled, gaze moving to anything but the boy before her. “It wasn’t my fault.”

The boy shook his head as he ran his hand over the forming bruise. “You gotta be more careful Cathy. What if something were to happen to ya?”

“Then let's get out of this town, Harry,” a seventeen-year old girl twirled in the headlights of an old pick-up truck. The waves crashed against the shore in the distance, the sun tenderly kissing the horizon goodbye. The girl’s blonde, messy braids whipped around her shoulder, dress bunched at her ankles. She stood before a brown haired boy, grass-stains on his jeans, leaning against the red truck. “Let’s pack up and leave after graduation next week.”

“And go where, Cathy?” The boy shook his head. “I have a job lined up on the boat and you have-”

“Nothing! I have nothing!” She threw her hands in the air. “I ain’t got nothing lined up. Just my next shift at the diner. I want to go to school, you know I do. But papa-”

“Don’t worry about your father,” the boy grabbed at the girls skirts, pulling her so close their hips touched. “I told you, I’ll protect you from your papa.”

The girl bit her lips, forest green eyes glancing over the boy's shoulder. Her face was tender but the look of caution never left. As if she wanted to believe the boy holding her but her heart refused to pay heed. “Promise?”

“I do.”

Applause thundered across the crowd, the waves beating against the rocky cliffs. The man lifted the woman's veil, tucking a piece of messy blonde hair behind her ear before gripping the back of her neck. He leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips. Whistles and wails filled the air, a screaming violin starting to play as the newly-weds walked down the aisle.

She held on her husband’s arm like a life-line, biting her lip as her father clapped the bride-groom on the shoulder. Her eyes darted around the crowd, the same look of caution from five years ago still masked her face.

It was a look that never left her face, a look that was forever present in the back on her eyes. It was the only thought Jake found he was able to form; the look of a woman who was scared. The look of a woman who was holding a secret.

And maybe she was, for that look stayed with her for all the years to come, Jake noticed. He watched Harold's and Catherine’s life play out before him, just as Harold described. The twenty plus years together. The moments of tender love, the moments of bitter fights. The squealing laughter and howling sobs. The funerals and the weddings, The slamming bottles and doors leading to nights together and alone. It wasn’t the best marriage, but what marriage is, Harold said.

They never had kids, their life centred around just the two of them, their fading love and the growing tension. Every second leading up to that moment, in a garden of muted yellows, reds, and oranges.

Flowers in her messy hair, a near fifty year old Catherine knelt before a bed of dirt. Sunglasses covered her eyes, dirt stained her knees, finger nails, and cheeks. She was silent as she worked.

A door slammed in the distance. “Catherine!”

The tension became electricity in the air. Catherine’s head snapped up as footsteps made their way to the backyard.

Jake noticed it at the exact moment she did. The wind switched directions, bells jingled off the tree tops, mystical laughter floated out from the forest on the other side of the garden.

Catherine turned slowly. The flower fell out of her hair. She tossed the sunglasses onto the ground and her bruised, deep green eyes glowed against the muted world. She walked towards the tree line, footfalls light. Laughter bubbled past her own lips and, between one step and the next, she was gone.

“... the forest swallowed her up and I knew they got to her.”

Jack was back in the bar. Everything rested as it had, and he himself wasn’t even sure if what he had just witnessed was real. Surely not, but the description and details felt real, tangible. As if, for a moment, he truly stood in Harold's memories.

“The forest was the only way out,” Harold’s eyes were wide, urgent, and the brightest things in the whole bar. “It was either through the house or the forest. And she’d been acting out for years. Always in the garden, out on her own. They got her, it's the only answer. But,” a pause, eyes shifting. “I know where she is.”

Jake swallowed, throat dry as sandpaper. “You do?” 

“An island just a few miles out in sea. A rocky cliff, that's where they stay,” Harold nodded, talking more to himself than Jake. “She's there, with them. I’m taking my boat out tomorrow morning. I’m going to get her and-”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was enough to make Jake jump back. He never noticed how close he had been leaning towards the old man. Just as he never realized how tightly he was holding his warm, untouched third glass of beer. He pulled his hand back, wiping it on his jeans as the pulsing in his left temple grew stronger. 

As he looked around the pub, Jake took in all the faces looking his way. Eyes bounced between him and Harold, whispers and murmurs accompanying the flute and violin pair. It was only when Murphy loudly, purposely, cleared his throat that the inhabitants of the bar started to look as if they weren’t listening. 

“Harold,” Murphy spoke softly, placing a hand on Harold’s tense shoulder. “I think it's time to head home, friend.”

There was a fight in Harold’s eyes, Jake could see it. That bloodshot, haunting, soulless gaze held a fire and life to them, ignited by the hatred for creatures that couldn’t exist. But the moment Murphy spoke, the moment Harold looked around the pub and saw all the eyes on him, the fire vashined. It was as quick as releasing a breath, there one minute and gone the next. 

Harold held Jake’s gaze. There was still so much left unsaid, unanswered, and Jake found he didn’t want him to go. His mind and soul craved to know more about fairies and their secret world.

A laughter echoed off the rafters, and Jake realized for the first time that night how terrified and exposed he truly was.

“Tomorrow morning,” Harold grunted as he stood, the invitation loud and clear. Jake didn’t understand why Harold was inviting him along but it somehow made all the sense in the world.

With no other parting words, with not so much as a glance at any other living soul in the pub, Harold walked out. Back hunched as he disappeared over the threshold, rain and wind howling as they swallowed him whole.

A hush carried on throughout the pub for a few heartbeats. Until the flute faded back into the plucking of a guitar. Someone cheered, laughter followed, and soon the lively atmosphere of the bar was back once more. As if the haunted man with an implausible story wasn’t present a few moments before.

“Is it true?” Jake found himself asking, tongue sliding across his chapped lips. He turned in his chair, facing Murphy, who now stood behind the bar. He hoped his shaking hand wasn't noticeable as he raised his beer to his lips. “About those… about the fairies.”

The word tasted like strawberries and metal on his lips.

Murphy glanced up for the glass he was cleaning, scar strained across his cheek as he pursed his lips. “They’re urban folktales. Myths passed down through all the generations of the Harbour.”

“And his wife?”

Murphy paused. He let out a sign, placed the glass under the bar before turning to Jake. Worry and concern shinned in his eyes.

“She left him,” he explained softly, mindful of the ears around. “Packed up and left, just like that.”

“Just like that?” Jake raised an eyebrow at Murphy’s hesitation.

“There were… rumours about cheating and drunken fights but…” Murphy took a breath, crossing his arms on the bartop as he leaned in close. “Look, Harry's a good guy, difficult but good. Our families know each other well. And Cathy… well she had a hard life with her father. She wasn’t all there before she left and Harold took it hard. He still won't get help and has himself convinced the Harbour Fairies are behind it. Says he’s seen things with his own eyes that explains it.”

Jake swallowed, leg bouncing restlessly. “He’s going out tomorrow morning-” 

“Yeah,” Murphy nodded solemnly. “We’ve tried to stop him, talk sense. But he won’t listen. And he’s at the age and point now where we've given up - what can ya do.”

A lot. Jake glanced around the pub, taking in the numerous people laughing, chatting, drinking. He didn’t know these people, he shouldn’t judge, but they could be doing something to help that man. He may be talking crazy but… was he? 

The more Jake studied the bar, the more it felt like a fog was lifting. The pieces were falling into place. The math was suddenly starting to make sense. And Jake refused to acknowledge the answers that were before him.

“Where is she then?” Jake asked, breathing through his nose to calm his racing heart. “His wife. Catherine.”

“No one knows,” Murphy admitted. “She got out of this town, that's for sure. And no one has heard from her since.”

“No one checks in?” Jake couldn’t hide the disbelief from his voice. “No one’s tried to find out where she is or what happened.”

Murphy watched Jake for an uncomfortable moment. His eyes looked him over, mouth twisting as if to say something. But then his lips shut, he blinked, and he shrugged before pointing to the still full glass in front of Jake. “You want another?”

Jake's breath caught in his throat. Claws bit into his spine. His skin felt too tight as a breeze brushed the back of his neck, red flashing in his vision. The room was too small and too big all at once. He didn’t know why he was feeling such a way or what had brought it on. But his gut knew it was because of this town.

And he knew he wanted to get out.

The door to the pub shut as a couple walked out, but the noise still rattled against Jake’s bones as he shook his head.

“No,” he stood up, hand shaking as he pulled out some bills and tossed them on the bar. “I think I’ll call it a night actually.”

Murphy picked up the money, either not noticing the odd behaviour or choosing to ignore it as he smiled. “Well, Mr. Jake, I hope you enjoy the rest of your short stay. Maybe someday we’ll get to see you passing through the Harbour again.”

“Who knows,” Jake gave a nervous chuckle, “It seems anything is possible.”

He left the pub in shambles. The smell of ashes and fowl fish followed Jake as he made his way to the door. Tables were knocked off centre, chairs were tipped over. The banjo played too loud and slightly off key. Men and women alike stumbled over one another, drinks spilled onto the floor. Even Murphy’s slicked back pony was a mess, falling into his dark, sweat covered face.

The illusion was breaking, the corners being pulled back to show something ugly and monstrous. Something those who inhabited Higdon’s Harbour refused to acknowledge.

Jake stepped over the threshold, blood pounding through his veins. He welcomed the rain beating down on his face, the wind biting through his damp jacket and nipping at his icy skin. The door to Kay & Elle closed with a thunderous bang. The banjo and hysterical laughter was replaced by sorrowful wind and wailing rain.

He stood there for a moment, face turned towards the sky as he tried to will air into his lungs. 

He needed to get out of this town.

Whatever force pulled Jake towards the pub earlier was controlled by a demon. He didn’t know what purpose it served him, to hear about Harold and the fairies… fairies that shouldn’t, didn’t, couldn’t exist…

Someone squealed and giggled across the parking lot. With a jump, heart in his throat, Jake started to make his way back to the safety of his room.

And he was almost there, just a mere few steps away, when his body suddenly felt as if it were stretched too thin. Nausea overcame him and his head spun. The rain pierced his skin like devilish needles and the wind sang a woman's lullaby in his ear. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, thunder crashing as someone bumped into his shoulder.

It was an innocent tap, the woman clearly too captivated by the lady on her arm to notice him. But it did all the damage in the world.

“Oh!” She gasped, the sound like a thousand bells. She grabbed his arm, full-lips pulled back in an apologetic smile as all the air vanished from Jake's chest. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn't breath, the pulsing in his left temple was suddenly magnified by ten. The warmth of her hand on his arm spread through his whole body. He no longer felt the wind and rain beating against him, he was too allured by her auburn curls, high-cheekbones, and hazel eyes that glistened like moss coated in morning dew. 

She was the most hauntingly beautiful creature he had ever beheld. And every part of his being begged him to run.

“Are you okay, Jake?” Her partner spoke up. They were holding one another so close, arms locked tight, it was as if they were one. Gravity pulled them together; where one moved the other followed. A simple stranger such as himself could not doubt their adoration and love.

Jake ripped his gaze away from the red-headed woman and looked at her partner. He took in her slim face, the dirty dress, and messy blonde hair pinned back with a flower.

It was then that Jake noticed that both women were completely dry.

It was then that Jake realized they knew his name.

It was then that his eyes met the blonde’s green ones, and he saw it all.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” a seven year old boy with grass stains on his knees told the six year old girl with a bruised arm.

“I didn’t mean to,” she trembled, and Jake realized she wasn’t avoiding the boys gaze. She was looking at someone else. She was looking at the young auburn haired creature standing a few feet away, invisible to the boy and eyes tense with worry. “It wasn't my fault.”

Be more careful, the boy told her at the exact moment the creature met the girl's gaze and said, I know. I’ll protect you.

“I told you,” said a seventeen year old boy as he gripped a sixteenth year old's skirts. “I’ll protect you from your papa.”

You know he can’t, Cathy, The auburn creature said, standing over the boy's shoulder as she held the girl’s green-eyed gaze. I’ll protect you from them both.

The blonde trembled. “Promise?” 

With all the power of the forest and the sea. I promise.

She was there, always there. She did all she could to keep her promise. But it seemed even she was limited in her abilities.

Jake watched Harold and Catherine's life play out once more. As the twenty plus years faded together, the moments of tender love vanished. The fights were more frequent, more aggressive than Harold let on. He stumbled home in the dark more than once, eyes bloodshot and words slurred. There were many years of fights and screams. Fists were thrown and bones were broken. And the red-head was there through it all, helping as best as she could. She cared for Cathy, tried to protect her, but it wasn’t enough.

Run away with me, Cathy. It's the only way.

And run she did.

It wasn’t a laugh that called Catherine to the forest that day in the garden as Harold’s raging voice bellowed off the walls of the house. No, it was not a laugh at all, but her name, spoken in bells and chimes, love and warmth.

Catherine stepped over the threshold of the forest, laughter on her lips, as she jumped into the arms of the beautiful red-headed fairy.

She didn’t leave, wasn’t taken. She willingly left her delusional old life for one of magic and wonder and respect.

Jake stumbled back a step, shaking off the hand of the creature before him. His head was spinning, his stomach turned and his vision blurred as he truly saw the two ladies before him. As he noticed the glow around them, the electricity that danced in their wake. 

This town, these people… how could anyone let a woman suffer as Catherine did and not do anything? How could they not see what was right in front of them?

And these creatures, the fairies, Harold painted them as the demons and yet, this fairy was Catherine’s saving grace, her lover, her protector...

They shared a look, the two lovers, before turning back to him. They didn’t say another word as the fairy smiled at Jake, white teeth flashing, and blew him a kiss. They turned to leave, Catherine giving him a wink over her shoulder, before disappearing into their hotel room. Right next door to his.

Jake stumbled as fast as he could to his room, slamming the door behind him as he tried to catch his breath and will his mind to understand what the hell was going on.

It took him a few moments to realize, for the first time all night, he was completely dry.  

----------

Light had yet to transform the morning sky when Jake sped out of the Beaumont Motel parking lot. The rain had stopped and the winds were whisked away. Grey clouds lingered in the sky, suffocating the rising sun on the horizon. 

What was once a piece of art to Jake was now the ugliest thing he had ever seen. 

The mountain reached its claws to the sky, holding all the trees and buildings in the palm of its hand. The roads swerved in and out of its fingers, weather-worn homes running up the forest-speckled hills, trying to escape. The ocean leaped for joy as it played with the rocky cliffs, trying to capture and destroy anything it could reach. The boats bobbed in the water, begging to be let free, while the docks pointed their fingers to the open sea, luring in any desperate and lonely souls to the corrupt town. 

The ocean was painted an angry blue against the grey light. The white-capped waves pounded against anything in their way. What Jake once thought was a place of harmony, he realized now, was an illusion.

The image had been shattered, broken beyond repair.

The land had won after all, he realized now. It had conquered Higdon’s Harbour and all within it. There was no agreement, no compromise to live in peace. For nothing could truly defeat nature.

The land cackled against the last remains of the raging storm winds. For it knew the game it was playing; it knew who truly ruled the town. And it was not man.

Jake made it out before the first kitchen light flickered on. Before the inhabitants of Higdon’s Harbour woke and started about their delusional lives. His heart pounded in his chest the whole way, hands shaking as they gripped his steering wheel. Even when he passed the city line, his body refused to relax. Not as the sound of chimes echoed on and on and on in his head.

By the time Jake remembered Harold, he was long gone. And he was too far out to turn back. Too far out to hear the news, or see the headline of the Higdon’s Harbour newspaper that morning. And to hear the otherworldly laugh that accompanied it.

Man Crashes Boat Off Rocky Cliffs In Desperate Search Of His Wife.

[winterscaptain]

a real hero.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: so about five of you asked about 6x06, devil’s night, when jack dresses up as his dad for halloween. when y’all make the call, i deliver! here’s just over a thousand words of total fluff, thrown together in about an hour (please forgive my errors and tell me what you think!). this stands alone, but i’m throwing it in the ajf pile for good measure, as well!

words: 1.2k warnings: language

summary: “we're taught to expect unconditional love from our parents, but i think it is more the gift our children give us. it's they who love us helplessly, no matter what or who we are.” ― kathryn harrison, the kiss

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

“..today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity.” Spencer and Emily come into the round table room, and you suppress a smile. 

If you know anything about Spencer, it’s that his love for Halloween knows no bounds. 

Emily sits down next to you, explaining, “All I asked was what he was planning to do this weekend.” 

You hide your laugh in your file, looking at Hotch over the top of the folder. There’s the smallest pull in the corner, the threat of a dimple. He looks up at you, and the dimple appears for just a split second before disappearing again. 

+++

Aaron’s anxious as you all wait for the go-ahead from air traffic control. He keeps checking his watch, and his leg bounces under the table. You’re the only two still in the cabin, the others took two other cars and are apparently taking their damn time to arrive from the precinct. 

You throw a Hershey’s kiss at him. He jumps and looks over at you. 

“What’s wrong?”

He sighs. “I’ve never missed a Halloween with Jack. I’m just nervous we aren’t going to make it back in time, is all.” 

You offer him a little smile. “You’ll make it back.” 

Just then, his phone rings and he answers it. “Hotchner.” A smile breaks across his face. “Oh hi, bud. Yeah. We’re almost in the air...Just a couple more hours...What?” He looks at you, and you furrow your brow. “...Let me ask.” 

He covers the mic. “I’d imagine people in their twenties have better ways to spend Halloween than with an over-excited five-year-old and his boring dad, right?”

You snort. “Hell no. I’m in.” 

And it was true - you didn’t have anywhere else better to be, and the lights in your house were already dark and had plans to stay that way to deter trick-or-treaters. There was no better way, in your opinion, than to spend Halloween with an overexcited five-year-old and his (allegedly) boring dad.

He shakes his head with a little smile and returns the phone to his ear. “Yeah, bud. We’re on for the three of us.”

+++

You sit on the floor of Jack’s bedroom, having been dragged in by two of your fingers immediately upon entering the apartment. He told his dad to wait in the dining room and closed the door behind him, so you imagine he has some serious business to discuss with you. 

“I don’t want to be Spiderman.” 

Your brow pinches. “Why not, bud?”

“The costume’s itchy and he’s not a real hero.” 

You hum, thinking. “Are there any real heroes you want to be, or do we want to toss out the hero idea entirely?”

He considers the options carefully, the pinch of his mouth starkly reminiscent of Haley. “I think I want to still be a hero.” 

“Okay. Do you want to come up with some ideas? We still have a little bit of time.”

A little bit of time was pushing it - Aaron wanted to get going before it got too dark out, giving them time for a movie before bed after Jack acquired his haul in the neighborhood. 

An idea comes to him, lighting up his face. “Can you get one of Dad’s ties? They’re…” he looks up, remembering, “...hung up on the front of the bathroom door in his room or inside the closet by the light switch.” 

“Of course.” You kiss his head, shutting the door behind you. You sneak down the hall and open Aaron’s door, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

“You know,” comes a voice from the dining room, “I can hear you?”

You throw your head around the door frame. “No, you can’t!” ...And shut the door behind you.

In Aaron’s room, you find the little hanging tree with all his ties, finding one of the red ones he wears all the time and one of which he has about five near-identical versions, just in case something happened out in the wild. 

You have half an idea of what Jack’s planning, but your only job right now is to follow instructions.

You throw the tie over your shoulder and make a play at sneaking back into Jack’s room while Aaron’s amused huff chases you down the hall. 

Closing the door behind you again, you told up your prize. “I got it.” 

Jack turns around, wearing the suit he got for Haley’s service. It’s only a little small on him, but he’ll probably lose the jacket anyway, working up a sweat even in the chilly Fairfax fall. “I’m gonna be Dad.” 

A little smile pulls at you, and for some reason, there’s part of you that wants to cry a little. Nevertheless, you pull it together quickly, kneeling in front of him to tie the tie. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

Jack puts his little hands over yours. “Can I try it?”

“Mhmm.” You put your hands in your lap, watching him fruitlessly tie knots, trying to get that crisp line Aaron manages every morning. When he gets a little frustrated, you ask, “Do you want some help?”

He nods, looking up and away as you undo his handiwork, giving him a four-in-hand knot that won’t eat him alive. You tighten it just enough to tuck under his collar, smoothing his jacket and fixing the ducktail sticking out of his shirt. 

“Ready?”

He nods, and you open the door. Jack tucks behind your legs. “Dad, don’t look at me!” 

Aaron, ever faithful, has his back turned right where you both left him in the dining room. “I’m not looking! Are you almost ready? ...Need any help?”

You nod at Jack, and he goes into the hallway. “No.”

“Okay.” 

You keep your distance, leaning up against a free spot on the photo wall as Jack steps into the dining room. 

“Whoa,” Aaron says, clearly surprised. “That is definitely not Spiderman.” He looks at you, but you don’t give anything away, a little smile on your face. 

“He’s not a real superhero,” Jack explains. 

“He’s not?” Aaron looks entirely the part of the confused father at the moment, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, a questionable orange-ish sweater. It almost makes you laugh. “Okay. I give up. Who are you supposed to be?”

You can hear the grin in Jack’s voice. “I’m you, Daddy.” 

Aaron’s face softens and he walks over to his son, embracing him before picking him up. He looks at you over Jack’s shoulder. “Was this your idea?”

You shake your head. “All him. I only filched the props.” 

Aaron shakes his head with a little smile you can’t read. Redirecting, he grabs his keys and his wallet with one hand, shoving them in his pocket. “Let’s go get some candy, my little G-Man.”

You grab your coat and Aaron’s from the coat tree, the bucket for Jack’s goods, and follow the boys out the door. You lock the door behind you, finding both of them waiting for you at the end of the apartment hall.

There’s no thought to what the other twenty-somethings are doing tonight. 

Nothing could be better than this. 

+++

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[oliverwxod]

Falling again (Geralt Imagine)

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: implied smut, swearing

Summary: Y/n used to travel with Geralt, the perfect partners in crime to monsters and creatures down. But years ago she left, feeling she didn’t fit into Geralt’s destiny and realising she was in love with a man who would never love her back.

The town was eerily dark, silence deafening as Y/n could barely make out the shapes of tall wooden houses the caged her in. She was on high alert, her ears picking up the smallest of scuttles from rats and mice across the dusty lanes. She had been tracking these creatures for months now and they had lead her to this small brooding community. 

A shuffle of feet and a cloud of dust could be seen in the distance, light from dying fire embers inside a nearby house reflecting a shadow of movement onto the wall opposite the one Y/n was hiding against. Her hand was held on the top of her sword, removing it from where it rested, ready to strike at any given time. She tiptoed silently, back still pressed against the stone wall as she neared the corner of bricks that hid the open courtyard of several houses. 

Another shadow passed, taller and bigger, closer to her. Taking in a deep breath she stepped out of the darkness into the slither of light, revealing herself into open vulnerable air, a growl ripping from the chest of the beast in front of her. She moved quickly, light on her feet, circling the monster as it did the same to her. 

“You’ve been quite the challenge” she scoffed at it. The creature looked at her in annoyance before pouncing, claws outstretched and catching the sleeve of her arm, ripping through the material and the flesh.

Y/n grunted, glaring at her arm and then the creature before ducking under the heavy weight of it, sliding so she was behind it. The creature may have had a lot over her when it came to strength but she was quicker and smaller, tackling it from behind where it was vulnerable. Slashing her sword straight through the back of its neck, before pulling it from the rancid flesh, flinching at the sound of blood splattering onto the floor. 

A noise from behind her directed her attention, disregarding her sword to the side and opting to use the bow and arrows that rested on her back, she was better and more accurate with them, growing up in the Forrests came in helpful sometimes, hunting was a natural instinct. 

She knew she was being watched, her estimate for the past months was that there was more than one beast. She had calculated through footprints and tracking that there were at least three of them. Three hideous beasts wrecking havoc throughout poor communities, Y/n had seen the aftermath of these creatures pathways and the destruction and pain they brought.

Spinning around without even looking she shot a single arrow, a grunt and a snort coming from the impact of it hitting a second beast. A loud echoing thump of the body hitting the solid ground, crashing into a crate of wooden buckets, a trail of rotting apples rolling onto the brick work. 

She could sense more eyes on her, burning into her back, without checking once again she fired an arrow, this time watching it meet the shoulder of the beast, it charged towards her angrily, feet thumping and shaking the earth beneath her, before it reached her she sent an arrow flying thorough the air, landing it straight between the beasts eyes, killing it instantly. 

She admired her work, frustration leaving her body as she had finally finished the job she was sent on, ready to cash in for the money. She couldn’t relax yet though, the feeling of another set of eyes on her made her wary, hesitating to move. This was not the eyes of one of the beasts. 

“I see you can still handle yourself then” a familiar voice broke through the silence, husky and deep as always.

Y/n never got scared but the voice made her jump, he the last person she expected to be standing in front of her.

“Geralt” she acknowledged, her posture stiffening as she turned to face him. “what are you doing here?” 

He was leaning against a wall having moved out of the shadows, his signature glare on his face as always. The side of his lips tugged into a smirk at her hostility towards him. 

“Apparently the same thing as you, Princess.” he spoke, the words making her shiver. She had always hated him for calling her that. That damned nickname that she could never shake off around him. It frustrated her, it frustrated her because it made her feel.

“I’ve told you before. Do not call me that” she glared at him, eyes staring daggers at his face. He hadn’t changed a bit. After all those years he still looked the same, his hair white, pure as snow, his cheeks bones and jaw as chiselled as ever. She hated how he knew how handsome he was. He was always using it for his benefit, sauntering around knowing he always had every womens attention.

“Whatever you say... princess” he spoke softly, almost so quiet that she couldn’t hear him. She watched him stare straight back at her, her eyes narrowing as he moved closer to her. 

Y/n could feel her breath catching in her throat, it had been a while since Geralt had been this close to her, she was scared, scared she would give into him like she always used to, she had no self control when it came to him. He made her nervous. 

She flinched as Geralt took her hand in his, moving it gently up so her arm was stretched out in front of him. She didn’t know what he was doing, what his intentions were so she ripped her arm out of his grip aggressively, shooting daggers at him. 

He rolled his eyes, letting out a grunt at the unexpected force. y/n had forgotten about the inch deep scratches on her arm, hissing in pain.

“You’re hurt” he spoke sternly, talking down to her, it wasn’t mean’t to be patronising but the way Geralt spoke to most people was. He didn’t really care. “You need to get this treated before it gets infected” 

“Why do you care” she spoke, she knew she was being petty and she should just let him help her, but she wanted to push him away, be hostile so he would turn around and leave her. 

He raised his eyebrows in response but kept quiet. Reaching for her hand again and bringing it up gently, he ripped away the tattered bloody fabric from her cloak, discarding it on the floor as his rough fingertips glided up her arm until it reached the area surrounding the wound. 

Y/n held back a shiver, she would not let him see how he still managed to effected her after all this time. 

“Come with me” he grunted, his hand still wrapped lightly around her arm, tugging gently in the direction of a nearby house. 

“No” she huffed, protesting, but with one single look from Geralt she followed silently through a back alley and through the backdoor of a dark house. 

He treated the wound carefully, Y/n watching his every move with a guarded expression, pulling her body away from any unnecessary touches. It confused him but he didn’t mention it. There was a time where she would relish in any form of touch from Geralt, a hand on the waist, a brush of skin on skin, a squeeze on the shoulder. But now the thought of it made her sad. She didn’t want a reminder of it, a reminder of what she had been running away from. 

He finished bandaging up her arm before taking place standing across from her, his arms folded as he leaned against a makeshift kitchen counter. His eyes burning into her as he watched her with intent.

“Where have you been?” he eventually spoke, his voice seemingly uninterested- fitting with the whole emotionless tone he always radiated. Thats why people often left him alone and he liked it that way. 

“around” she shrugged not daring to look at him. She couldn’t fall under his spell once again. Every time she was around him she always found herself falling again. And everyone knows what they say about witchers, they're emotionally unavailable. They don’t know love and they can’t love. 

That’s why she left. She was done meaning nothing to him, done with waiting for him in bed while he spent it in another. Done with sleepless nights that mean’t more to her than it ever would to him. 

“Why did you leave?” He asked a similar question. It had been playing on his mind ever since the day he had woken up and she was gone, disappeared without a trace, he had thought about her whereabouts for years now. 

She scoffed in annoyance. “I didn’t fit in with your destiny” 

Geralt took a deep breath, grunting “hmm, yet here you are” 

She met his eyes for a fleeting second before looking away, face falling from a frown into a confused expression. 

“I should go” she spoke, standing up quickly and bolting for the door. 

“Fuck” Geralt cursed, taking another deep breath in before following her pathway to the door, he pushed her gently against it before she could reach it, stopping her in her tracks. 

She tried to fight back but the pain in her arm stopped her strength from pushing him away. 

“Why are you so intent on running away from me?” he spoke in a voice softer than what she thought he was capable of.

“Let me go” she spoke bluntly, avoiding eye contact with him. She didn’t want to give in, but he made it so easy. She could feel his body pressed against hers, the hard lines of his moulding to her own. 

“Please” she whispered but weaker this time.  

His large hand caught her chin, forcing her to stare directly at him. Her breath caught in her throat, his eyes golden, staring straight through her. 

“Geralt” 

He stared silently, his intentions still unclear to her. With him this close to her and with the way he was staring at her she had no chance of not falling again. 

“shhhh” he whispered, breath fanning across her face, y/n couldn’t hold back the shiver this time, goosebumps arising on her skin at his closeness. His eyes flickered elegantly down to stare at her lips, the lips he had kissed a hundred times before, familiar and inviting. 

HIs hand traced the side of her cheek, past her jaw and down her neck, caressing the skin at the back before pulling her head up slightly towards his own, his lips landing on hers in a soft kiss before pulling away. His eyes closed briefly before opening, meeting hers directly and seeing the scared look that had overcome her. His hand still rested at the nape of her neck moving upwards so it covered the whole of the back of her head, pulling her in closer and kissing her again, this time with more strength behind it.

“Don’t run again” he whispered against her lips. 

[caermis]

❝For 6 Whole Months…❞ Pt. 1

✑Characters 🍸Todoroki Shouto 🍷Momo Yaoyorozu

✑Warnings -Suggestive NSFW -Sorta yandere tendencies

✑Characters are aged up ✑No Quirk AU

✑Prompt/Summary: 🍸🍷Todoroki and Momo have been Married for 2 years, not out of love, but for publicity. Until they meant Lil’ Y/N, just the thing this poor college graduate with no job needs… A Sugar Momma and a Sugar Daddy.🍸🍷

✑Notes -Y/S - Your smell/scent

🍸 “Todoroki-san, L/N-san has arrived.” Looking away from my office skyline view, I turned around my mic pressing the mic. “Allow her in.” Hearing the door opens and a woman with a kind smile on her face. Looking different from how I imagined her. Her hair was made of many braids and in a ponytail, wearing a black pencil skirt and a tight F/C button up. The smell of Y/S left her. Her brown skin seemed to glow, the sun from the window enhanced the glow. Knocking out of my daze, she bowed. “I’m L/N Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you Todoroki-san.”

🍸“The pleasure is all mine.” Giving a quick bow, I motioned for her to take a seat at my desk, my secretary closing the door behind him. Watching her slide into the seat, her hands resting in her lap. Slowly sitting down, I stared over at her. She was beautiful. Watching her face, she was holding her breath and looked somewhat nervous. “L/N, it’s alright. No need to be nervous. Let’s go through a few questions.” She gave me a less anxious smile. “Alright.”

🍸Flopping back in his seat, he deeply inhaled the smell you gave off fluttering into his nose. You had left a few minutes ago, passing the interview with flying colors. His eyes flickered over to the camera, watching you in the elevator alone, happily fist pumping in pure excitement. Chuckling to himself as he watched you. You didn’t give off the constant feel of complete confidence, yet neither did you give the vibe of pure vulnerability. You weren’t spoken and wrote what Todoroki said that could benefit you, only respectfully correcting him, when he said something that wasn’t correct about yourself.

🍸Todoroki liked you a lot and would have you immediately take his current secretary’s place, maybe even become his personal secretary so you would be around him almost all the time, maybe you wouldn’t even need to work, just keep him company for the day and he’d spoil you. You would become his Sugar Baby.

🍷Momo’s job, says Todoroki, was to appear daily with a smile on her face and lunch in hand. Both knew popularity follows, and the well-known actress knew that she needed a good appearance. Not to stay. She was a normally rude person, but she didn’t care much for others that were not important to her. So she would play the loving wife and appear every day, with the same million-dollar smile and lunch. Stepping inside the building, the smell of Y/S filled her nose, strong, but not overwhelming.

🍷Her eyes ran across the first floor, before stopping on you. Seeing at how easily you stood out, you were beautiful. Watching your smile, she couldn’t help but feel the need to get closer. Walking through the crowd, stopping by your side, she looked forward, wondering how to get your attention without seeming weird. “Yaoyorozu-san. Todoroki-san is expecting you on the 100th floor like always.” Smiling, she placed her bag on the counter and pretended to search through it.

🍷 “I’ve seemed to misplace something of Shouto’s. I wish to find before I see him.” The receptionist nodded in understanding and walked off to help someone else. Glancing at you from time to time, before pulling back, knocking the open bag down. Without waiting, you immediately got down and helped the actress gather the spilled items. “I’m sorry.” She got down with gathering her things.

🍷“It’s alright. I’m more than happy to help, Yaoyorozu-san.” Passing the actress items back to her, her pale fingers brushed against yours. You were warm. “Thank you. I’m Momo Yaoyorozu. Shouto’s wife.” Standing back up, she slightly bowed to you. Doing the same, you smiled. “L/N Y/N. Apply for a job here.” Her eyebrows raised in interest. “I wish you the best of luck.”

🍸🍷“I plan on getting a Sugar Baby.” The couple at dinner solemnly, Todoroki breaking the silence. Momo only shrugged. “Do what you wish. I might do the same.” Todoroki raised a brow as he took a sip of his wine and stared at Momo. She never seemed the type of woman to have a Sugar Baby. “She applied to work with me today.” Momo took another small bite of her food and leaned back in her chair. “We met today. She seemed so sweet.”

🍸🍷“L/N Y/N.”

🍸🍷Silence settled over the two as they spoke the same name. The couple stared at each other before Momo slowly stood up. “I’m going to bed.” Shouto didn’t move and took another sip. Not acknowledging what his wife said.

🍸🍷Thus began the six-month battle for L/N Y/N.

🍸🍷Neither of them made it obvious that they wanted you to be theirs completely. Having obtained the job of Todoroki’s personal secretary, you were by his side 24/6, never seeming to do actual work. Maybe grab a cup of tea for the man or set reminders for personal stuff, while his work secretary handled his meetings and such, leaving you with much free time to converse with the man.

🍸🍷His wife, Yaoyorozu, always appeared the same exactly every day, so you took it upon yourself to wait for her by the elevator and walk with her back to Todoroki-san’s office, making small talk. The kind smile never leaves her face. Usually staying for two minutes to discuss things with Todoroki-san privately and you’d wait outside.

🍸🍷Sooner her daily visits became longer, lasting up to almost a full 30 minutes before having to leave and return to work. You’d walk her to the elevator and bid her farewell until you saw her tomorrow. That was a normal day for you.

🍸🍷“Here you go.” Passing me a little business card, it was his personal phone number. Standing in front of my car, the sun had gone down and Todoroki-san had offered to walk me there before heading back home. “Are you sure?” He nodded with the smallest smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. “You’re my personal secretary, so staying in contact with you at all times is important.” Just like you thanked him hand headed home. Your job had no certain hours or a set pay. Your payday ranged from $15,000 to $30,000 every two weeks, nothing seemed to drop below $15,000 dollars, and you had more than enough to pay for your bills.

🍸🍷“L/N, we should go out on a girls’ trip!” Yaoyorozu excitedly grabbed my hands as we sat with Todoroki for lunch. “Maybe go to America and I could meet your family. Or you could come to France or Europe for a week. Wouldn’t that sound lovely, Darling?” She turned to Todoroki, who simply nodded, took a sip of his water and turned back to his computer and resumed typing.

🍸🍷That was one thing you noticed, Yaoyorozu and Todoroki’s relationship felt so forced and he hardly even acknowledge her presence unless on national Television and Galas that you had to attend, always with Todoroki, taking notes before you were dragged away with Yaoyorozu. “That sounds wonderful, Yaoyorozu-san.”

🍸🍷“Call me Momo.” Giving a curt nod, I smiled. As time flew fast like every day, it was time for Momo to return to the screen, starring in a major role in a new movie. Cleaning up the lunch, I could feel Todoroki’s eyes on me as I moved. “L/N, can you assist me, please?” Throwing things in the trash, I walked to his side, pointing to his screen. Leaning forward, the smell of fresh cold wind, mixed with the warmth of campfire smell filled my nose.

🍸🍷“Should I set a reminder for the next major meeting and prepare a new suit?” Hearing him chuckle, I moved away. Staring at him, I pulled out my notebook. “Did I say something funny?” Todoroki leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, his hand pulling at his tie slowly. Oh. O h. This man was a different breed.

🍸🍷“Are you alright?” Snapping back into reality, I nodded. “Can you remind me to contact Midoriya for dinner and drinks?” jogging it down in my notebook. ‘Get a bucket and a mop-’ Hearing my phone go off, I rushed to the other a step back of the desk, grabbing my phone and pressing the answer.

🍸🍷“I am in the middle of working.”

🍸🍷“I know that idiot, but I’ll be picking you up early.”

🍸🍷“Why?”

🍸🍷“The old hag is in the hospital.”

🍸🍷Shouto watched you in silence, you weren’t one to answer calls while working and his ringtone was different from the previous ones, seeing as you had a different ringtone for each other. He quickly learned that when Momo had called and it was some pop girl song, and from when he purposely called you to see if he had one, which he did, but the song was in English and he couldn’t understand it.

🍸🍷“Todoroki-san, is it alright if I leave early. My boyfriend’s mother is in the hospital.”

🍸🍷Wait what! The infamous L/N Y/N had a boyfriend and not either of them seem to know.

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) fit two people under your skin  STAR WARS

Febuwhump Day 1 - Brainwashing

A03

Alpha-17 doesn’t believe in monsters.

He’s lived through too much in his life to believe in the creatures under the bed, or those that creep through the dark hallways and eat unsuspecting cadets. He’s seen real monsters, he’s seen cruelty and violence. He’s seen real life, and nothing can scare him more than that, but he comforts himself with the knowledge that everything dies, that he can fight to the death if he has to. He knows the pain of being taken apart piece by piece, of being tortured past his limits, of watching so many vode marching off to the death. He knows the pain of losing good men that he trained personally, the pain of losing those he raised himself from childhood.

He knows the pain that comes from not having done enough.

Millions of vode are dead, millions more will die, and Alpha is almost numb to it. He’s lost enough that it no longer surprises him.

But he’s never had anyone come  back from the dead, and yet, here he is.

Months ago, Alpha had been brought back to the warfront by the death of his little brother, one of the boys he had trained and raised from childhood to be one of the best. He had been on Kamino when news had reached him that Marshal Commander Cody had died in the line of duty, and he had immediately felt the world drop out from beneath him. Cody -  Kote  - the youngest and smallest of Squad 17, his  vod’ika  ,  his ad’ika ; his pride and joy. Cody had been one of his, he had watched him grow into the man he was, and Alpha had thought, had hoped, that out of any of them, that Cody would make it to the end of this Manda-forsaken War. Cody had been a leader, a viciously competent warrior that put even other A-classers to shame. He may have only been a CC, but Alpha would bet anything that he’d be able to beat even a Null into the ground if given the chance.

He had never imagined Cody being just another name on a KIA list.

Cody could have been their leader, had the spirit needed to be Mand’alor. He had a natural charisma that made people  want to follow him, a strength to his soul that shone like fire in his eyes. He could be beaten, but he’d never break.

But he’d still died. He had died and left his 212th without a Commander.

Eventually, Alpha had managed to hunt down the troopers that had survived the mission that had killed one of his boys. Had tracked them down during shore leave and demanded to know what had happened. They couldn’t tell him much, because of the confidential status of the mission, but eventually a pale-faced and haunted Echo had spoken up, staring down at his alcohol like it could take the nightmares away.

“It should have been me.” The young ARC Trooper had whispered, looking close to tears, and Fives had gripped his brother’s hand like a lifeline. “I had gone for the shuttle - Cody - he saw what was about to happen before any of us. He saved me. He threw me out of the way and took the blast instead.”

Alpha had volunteered as soon as he could, had hunted General Kenobi down and put his name forward as his next Commander. He knew what his  ad’ika  would have wanted; he’d want Alpha to teach and protect his men where he couldn’t, to lead his Ghosts and 7th Sky. He’d trust Alpha-17 to watch his  Jetii’s back, to be at his side when he couldn’t, because Alpha wasn’t blind - he knew what his Kot’ika thought of General Kenobi, knew what he’d felt for him. He had seen the way Cody had looked at Kenobi, had known that they’d work well together when he’d suggested Cody as the Commander for Kenobi’s Battalion, even if he’d never imagined his little brother actually falling in love with the man.

Despite how much it hurt to stand in his place, Alpha had put himself forward, had painted his armour gold, and taken the title of Commander. It fits like an ill-fitting body glove, but Alpha wears it, because it’s what Cody would have wanted. He could keep up with Kenobi better than any shiny commander could, could call the Jedi out on his bullshit and keep him and his men safe. He knows it hurts Kenobi too. He knows that sometimes Kenobi turns to him expecting Cody to be there to a witty quip or a sarcastic smirk, and he sees the way he falters when it’s Alpha there instead.

The troopers are the same. Alpha knows they respect him, that they look up to him, but he’s not Cody, and they all know it. Over the months though, they’d learned how to work together; he’s glad it was him who had taken over for Cody, because he recognizes a lot of the signs of his own training in the way the 212th troopers move, no doubt passed on by Cody. They don’t move the way CTs are expected to move, instead Alpha can see his own personalized ARC training shining through in them, and he knows that any other commander wouldn’t have been able to keep up. As the months pass, he whips them into shape, distracts them from their grief, and keeps them moving.

And then rumours of the Seperatists’ newest asset reaches them. Until Umbara, no one sees it, but they hear the rumours spread by the small numbers of survivors left behind. Some sort of new droid made to look like a clone in black armour, that never speaks, never hesitates, and always wins. Until Umbara, its nothing more than a ghost story, a monster in the night, but Alpha had never believed in monsters, it was just another clanker that he’d destroy if he faced it on the field.

It was called many things; monster, assassin, dark trooper, but Alpha would know it as another target.

And then Umbara happened. The asset had killed Krell, had saved the lives of the 501st troopers that the  dar’jetii  was tormenting. It had killed  only  Krell, had torn the Besalisk apart, and then walked away; it hadn’t even  touched the clones, had barely even looked at them before leaving. Rex had come to him afterwards, baring footage of the fight between the asset and the General, an odd look on his face.

“It fights like a vod, Alpha.” Rex had said, sounding confused and lost as they’d watched the footage over and over again, looking to learn the clanker’s fighting style to better combat it in battle. “It fights like  you do.”

Watching the figure in black and gold armour, styled mockingly after his own, a kama swinging around it’s waist and a gold pauldron on it’s shoulder, Alpha couldn’t help but agree. It did fight like a clone; specifically, it fought like one of the cadets Alpha had trained personally. It was reckless, throwing itself into battle without a care, twisting into powerful kicks and using its blaster like a club in ways that Alpha specifically remembers one of his cadets doing, something that had driven Alpha to a frothing rage.

Cody.

It fights like  Cody.

He hadn’t voiced it at the time, had stewed in his rage at the insult aimed towards his dead  vod’ika. A droid that fought like Cody, a droid that had the exact same shade of orange-gold as his  vod’ika had chosen for his Battalion. It was an insult and an affront on everything Alpha stood for. He’d held on to that anger, had let it burn hot and harsh in his gut, knowing that the moment he faced the clanker on the battlefield, that he’d  destroy it.

He would tear it apart for the insult it symbolized. To know that the Seperatists were perverting his brother’s memory in such a way lights a fire in him that refuses to burn out.

And then he gets the chance to fight the asset. He fights it one on one, intent to destroy it and avenge his little brother, when the bucket comes off and Alpha’s heart stops. All he can think of, is that that’s a face glaring up at him, a familiar face with a familiar scar. He barely remembers the chaos that had followed.

Cody.

Somehow, the asset is Cody.

Somehow, they’d managed to get the asset -  Cody, his Kote - sedated and transferred onto the  Negotiator. It had hurt all of them to need to restrain him, to strip away black plastoid to reveal prosthetics and burns. They’d gotten him back to the ship, into the medbay and under the medics’ hands, and they’d found a  chip in his head.

And now, Alpha is staring down at the limp body strapped down to the biobed, ankles, hips, chest, and arms pinned to the bed by unforgiving metal, to make sure he wouldn’t attack again when he woke up. It’s still Cody. He’s missing both his legs at the thighs, there’s metal drilled into his spine and up the back of his skull. There’s a blinking monitor embedded into his chest, scarred skin growing around it, flashing with his heartbeat. They’d shaved him, put a cybernetic implant on the side of his head, over where his ear should be and stretching around his temple to interrupt the curving, hooked scar that had become his little brother’s visual marker of individuality, the one Alpha personally remembers tending to, right before pulling Cody into ARC training to ensure that Priest and Reau wouldn’t get their hands on him again. He’s covered in twisting, healing burn scars, left from the explosion they had all believed to have killed him, and there’s dark bruises standing stark against brown skin.

Bruises that Alpha had put there, when he’d nearly broken his brother’s neck while fighting him. When he had thought that Cody was a droid programmed to fight like him.

He'd nearly killed his little brother, the boy he'd raised, and he never would have known if he hadn't accidentally knocked his helmet off.

“Manda.” He breathes harshly, nostrils flaring, and he drops down into the chair Pace had put next to Cody’s bed. He ignores the medic’s eyes drilling into the side of his head, instead reaching out to gently squeeze Cody’s limp hand like he had when Cody had been a too-small child enduring too-cruel punishments in the place of more replaceable brothers. “What can you tell about the chip?”

Pace scowls, “It only showed up on a level five atomic scan.” He says, “We only found it because we were trying to find out the cause of the strange brain activity we were picking up - it showed up as a tumour, but once we removed it -” he gestures to the petri-dish next to the biobed, “- we found  that.”  ‘That’ being an ugly scrap of what looked like flesh, pink and pocketed and flecked with old blood. “Removing it from the frontal lobe stopped the strange brain signals we were picking up, and his waves went back to baseline - what you could expect from a regular clone.” Alpha tears his eyes away from Cody’s peaceful face to glower at the strange object. “We don’t have any proof, won’t until we can see how he acts when he wakes up, but Crys thinks it could have been controlling him.”

Alpha lets out a harsh curse, “Fucking seppies.”

“Yeah.” Pace murmurs, then shifts. “Commander,” he says slowly, enough of something odd in his tone that it makes Alpha look up to meet his gaze, to see them dark with anger, “whatever it is - that chip? It wasn’t made by the Seps.”

“What?” Alpha’s eyes narrow dangerously, and Pace nods, glowering at nothing as he rubs a hand aggressively against the gray fabric of his uniform.

“It gives off a different signal than the… prosthetics -” he says the words with furious contempt, like the sentence is rotten on his tongue, “- they drilled into him.”

Alpha snarls, baring his teeth like a cornered animal as he grips Cody’s clammy hand protectively, like he could destroy whatever did this to him with his will alone. “Who  do I need to kill for what they did to him?”

“Sir.” Pace’s voice is just as dangerous, “Whatever it is? It’s  Kaminoan.”

Taglist: @a-mediocre-succulent @yellowisharo @spoofymcgee @roseofalderaan @everything-or-anything @bellablue42

[afroherbalism]

"Emma Dupree (1897-1992) was an influential black herbalist from Falkland and Fountain, in Pitt County in North Carolina. She was known locally as “granny woman.”

Because she prays, she brews herbs. Because she brews herbs, she heals. Because she heals, she is the undisputed sage of Pitt County. They say her home remedies can quiet a colicky baby, cure a mean cold and scare lice off a hog.

"All that we see, everything that is growin' in the earth," Emma says, "is healin' to the nation of any kind of disease."

She was the daughter of freed slaves and grew up on the Tar River. She was known for her work with native herbs: Sassafras, white mint, double tansy, rabbit tobacco, maypop, mullein, catnip, horseradish, and silkweed.

Here is an excerpt from an article published shortly after her death:

"From the time she could walk, Emma felt drawn to the land. She would roam the woods, plucking, sniffing, tasting weeds. She grew up that way, collecting the leaves, stems, roots and bark of sweet gum, white mint, mullen, sassafras in her coattail or a tin bucket. She'd tote them back to the farm, rinse them in well water and tie them in bunches to dry. In the backyard, she'd raise a fire under a kettle and boil her herbs to a bubbly froth, then pour it up in brown-necked stone jugs: A white-mint potion for poor circulation; catnip tea for babies with colic; tansy tea - hot or cold - for low blood sugar; mullein tea for a stomach ache. Mixed with molasses or peppermint candy to knock out the bitterness. Her kind of folk medicine dates back centuries. In the 1600s, African slaves brought root-doctor remedies to America. Indians and immigrants had cure-alls, too. In some rural areas, scattered herbalists still practice."

She was born on July 4, 1897, the seventh among 18 siblings, Emma Williams Dupree grew up on the Tar River and was known in her family as "that little medicine thing" because of her early understanding of herbs.

Her parents, Pennia and Noah Williams, were freed slaves farming in Falkland, NC.

She told an interviewer in 1979 that her mother remembered being "on the porch of the old Wooten's farm home when freedom came. She was 16 when Mr. and Mrs. Wooten walked out on that porch and told her she was 'as free as they were, but they loved her just the same.'"

She was married for one year to Ethan Cherry, a farmer. She divorced him and remarried another farmer, Austin Dupree, Jr., who was born in 1892. Emma and Austin moved to Fountain, NC in 1936 and had five children, whose ages in the 1930 U.S. Census are indicated in parentheses: Lucy (12), Herbert (9), John (5), Doris (3), and Mary (1).

They remained married until his death at age 90. She died at home, at 3313 N. Jefferson St, Fountain, on March 12, 1996. She is buried at Saint John's Missionary Baptist Church Cemetery, in Falkland,NC.

Emma Dupree's "garden-grown pharamacy" included sassafras, white mint, double tansy, rabbit tobacco, maypop, mullein, catnip, horseradish, silkweed and other plants from which she made tonics, teas, salves and dried preparations. These were cultivated in her yard and gathered from the banks of the Tar River. She told Karen Baldwin that she grew a special tree in her back yard, which she called her "healing berry tree."

She explained, "Now that tree, I don't know of another name for it, but it's in the old-fashioned Bible and the seed for it came from Rome." She also told Baldwin of being an especially alert baby: "They said I was just looking every which way. And I kept acting and moving and doing things a baby didn't do. And I walked early. I was walking at seven months old, just as good and strong. When I got so I got out doors, I went to work. I was pulling up weeds, biting them, smelling in them, and spitting them out. And folks in them days, they just watched me, watched what I was doing.

Awards and Recognition

In 1984, Dupree was awarded the Brown-Hudson Award by the North Carolina Folklore Society, recognizing her as an individual who contributed significantly to the transmission, appreciation and observance of traditional culture and folk life in North Carolina.

In 1992, Dupree received the North Carolina Heritage Award, lifetime achievement recognition for outstanding traditional artists in North Carolina

NOTE:

Here is a link to a video of Mrs Emma Dupree being interviewed by students of the ECU medical research department. This video is Produced by the office of Health Services Research and Development, School of Medicine, East Carolina University.

It is 40 minutes long.

Link: https://digital.lib.ecu.edu/58575?fbclid=IwAR1e22I8_vRfvzI0nZXDBT8XG7Z-4DgiNykjqsbPD8hoD2Aw8haC2uI8vvo#details

Source;https://digital.lib.ecu.edu/ncpi/view/5581

Source:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emma_Dupree

---

Herbalist, 94, Lets Nature Heal

by Paige Williams Feb 20, 1992

Before her came African root doctors and Indian medicine men. People believed their mystical potions could cure body and soul and sometimes they could. Some modern medicines still use herbal derivatives. Few old-time herbalists like Emma are left in North Carolina. Hospitals first forced her kind out of business. Death is finishing the job. Emma Dupree's hanging tough, though, pushing 10 decades. She takes the tonic, see. Drinks it like water. She jumps out of her chair, props fists on her waist and swivels her hips Hula-Hoop style. She holds both hands out flat and squirms her wrinkled fingers all around, crossing and uncrossing, like she's making a million wishes. No arthritis there.

"There's something to that stuff," said her granddaughter, Sandra White.

Joe Exum, town grocer, keeps a Crown Royal bourbon bottle under the front seat of his pickup truck. It holds the slimy remnants of Emma's tonic: oily brown syrup that looks like tobacco spit, stings the nose like paint thinner and tastes like pine tar smells.

"I'd pay $50 for a bottle right now," Exum said. "Two swallers and it'll knock the sore throat right out." He's waiting for Emma to brew another batch. She stewed her last at Christmas. She used to make the tonic right steady, every day almost, the way she learned 80 years ago, when the woods first called her.

Pitt County borders the Pamlico River 80 miles east of Raleigh. Its largest town is Greenville, the county seat, population

44,972. One of its smallest is Fountain, population 445, founded in 1900 on the western rim. Emma Dupree was Emma Williams then, a 3-year-old growing up the daughter of freed slaves on a farm 9 miles east in Falkland, where she was born the Fourth of July, 1897. Emma was the knee baby, second from the youngest of seven girls and four boys, and always hanging on her mama's knee. Early on, Pennia and Noah Williams knew she was nature's child. From the time she could walk, Emma felt drawn to the land.

She would roam the woods, plucking, sniffing, tasting weeds. She grew up that way, collecting the leaves, stems, roots and bark of sweet gum, white mint, mullen, sassafras in her coattail or a tin bucket. She'd tote them back to the farm, rinse them in well water and tie them in bunches to dry. In the backyard, she'd raise a fire under a kettle and boil her herbs to a bubbly froth, then pour it up in brown-necked stone jugs: A white-mint potion for poor circulation; catnip tea for babies with colic; tansy tea - hot or cold - for low blood sugar; mullen tea for a stomach ache. Mixed with molasses or peppermint candy to knock out the bitterness. Her kind of folk medicine dates back centuries. In the 1600s, African slaves brought root-doctor remedies to America. Indians and immigrants had cure-alls, too. In some rural areas, scattered herbalists still practice.

"It's dying out," says Charles Reagan Wilson of the Center for the Study of Southern Culture at the University of Mississippi. "People more and more rely on modern science." Pitt County's got both. Modern medicine and Emma Dupree. Her school was God's school; her classroom, the land. While the other children played, she picked herbs. Sometimes she caught the other children talking about her: "There comes that ol' rovin' gal. Reckon where she goin' now?" Yet they always followed her.

When Emma was about 20, she married Ethan Cherry, a farmer. It lasted about a year. The story goes that Cherry went one wisecrack too far about how many women it takes to satisfy a man. Emma whacked him with a chair. Knocked him out cold. Then she divorced him. "He wasn't no good husband." She married another farmer, Austin Dupree. They moved to Fountain in 1936. Old age killed him in the the early 1970s. He was nearly 90. Of Emma's five children, only Doris, 66, is left. She lives next door to Emma's little white-and-green house on Jefferson Street, a longtime magnet to the afflicted.

Herbs' earthy aroma herbs brewed day and night. Their warm earthy aroma filled the whole house. Emma poured her tonic up in glass vinegar jugs and canning jars and kept it in a pantry off the kitchen. Somebody was always knocking on the front door. Emma would fetch it: "Now you take this with faith because it's not me. I'm just the instrument." She never set a price. People paid what they could, sometimes $5, sometimes $30. "It was a common thing for people to literally be waiting in line," said White, 38, the granddaughter Emma raised. People sought advice, too. They'd bang on the door, pull her aside: "Can I talk to you?" Fountain's own Ann Landers. "You can tell her a problem and she can work it out so it don't seem so bad," White said.

Some, she couldn't help. Once, a young girl dying of leukemia and weary of doctors showed up at Emma's door. Emma suspected it was hopeless. Still, she couldn't say no. She gave her the tonic. "I don't want to make her sound like a saint," White said, "but she tried to help everybody." Emma won't take the credit. "Whatever your talent, whatever you is, you come with it," she said. "When you come into this world, God's done fixed you with what you got to do." To townspeople, she's "Aunt Emma."

In December, they made her grand marshal of the Fountain Christmas parade, all two blocks of it. She waved from the back of the long white limousine borrowed from the local funeral home. Only the best for the sage of Pitt County.

Source:https://www.tulsaworld.com/archives/herbalist-lets-nature-heal/article_3b0e06d1-4af9-5567-93ee-bc4b50d5867f.html

[itmightbeneb]

Small post-prison Dream drabble

CW: (almost) panic attacks

If this gets a good enough reception, I may do more :)

It was raining, but Dream couldn't stop to appreciate it. Appreciating rain? Dream almost laughed at the idea, but after months of nothing but lava and obsidian, the cold and wet was a nice change of pace. There had been water in the prison, he supposed, but it was warm, heated by the lava all around him, warm and dirty after months of use. The cold was a nice change of pace. And this rain, this clean water, might actually do something to clean the blood of his skin. It was certainly soothing his burns and scars, burns and scars Quackity and Sam would have to pay for.

Dream needed more stuff, he needed diamonds then netherite, he needed enchantments and potions and farms, better food as well, he doubted he could handle another potato, he doubted he could handle much at all for the moment but that was a problem for later him. Bread would sustain him for now, although he did keep a few extra potatoes in his inventory just in case.

The problem was, he had nothing. Well that wasn't entirely true, he had some bread, a handful of potatoes and a freedom he hadn't had in months, but other than that, nothing. Not even a wooden pickaxe to his name and the entire server wanting him dead. Well then, better a wooden pickaxe than nothing, he thought. He had to start somewhere.

Breaking down a tree was more difficult than he remembered, or maybe he was just remembering what it was like with an efficiency V netherite axe. He might be weaker now, he might be more vulnerable, did the prison affect his muscles that much? He'd still managed to kill Tommy so he can't have wasted away too much, but then why was this stone taking so long to mine? He didn't have the weakness effect from the elder guardians anymore, but he wondered if the months of constant weakness had affected his muscles. Well that was just another thing on the to-do list, get stronger again. Maybe strength potions would work, but for that he'd have to go to the nether. He was a long way off being prepared for that.

After getting a stone pickaxe and axe, Dream wondered if caving or strip mining would be better. He didn't want to be in any cramped space if he could avoid it, but in order to get armour and weapons, in order to protect himself, he'd have to go in. Both had their benefits and downsides. Strip mining was more cramped, darker, closer to being like the prison he had only just escaped. But, if he was weaker after his stay there, it offered fewer mobs to deal with. Less chance to die right after he made it out. He couldn't die now, not after everything that had happened, not after he finally made it out. He had to get his revenge on Sam and Quackity, and that meant staying alive, getting gear, getting stronger. Punz as well, Punz had betrayed him. Went to Tommy and Tubbo and Sam to put him away. He'd cut ties with Punz though, he was on the list, just further down. No, it was Sam and Quackity that needed to pay the most. That meant going underground where there was no daylight and lava around any corner. So, strip mining it was then, less chance of dying was always a good decision. Plus, Dream thought, he couldn't let a stupid fear stop him from going where he pleased. He wasn't Tommy, getting scared whenever he was near a plains biome, he was Dream, a god, someone who had survived worse that a stupid obsidian box. And he was going to make them pay for putting him there.

He dug down to Y=11, finding some coal and iron on the way down. This was good, this was normal, he ignored the tightness in his chest. Although, it was eased by the chill air. He didn't know he could miss the cold, but here he was, feeling nostalgia over a temperature. A temperature, he quickly realised that he couldn't handle as well as he used to. Spending so much time next to a sea of lava, in the sweltering heat, had changed the way his body handled temperature, it seemed. He quickly made a torch and held it in his off hand. Fire would warm him up, enough that he didn't die at least. The furnaces smelting iron also helped warm him up. He made sure to note that wherever he ended up staying better be well insulated. He couldn't go for a desert though, the heat would be welcome but he wanted rain. Maybe a jungle? They were tricky to navigate which would help deter people from finding him. Warm, but not the heat of lava, wet, tricky to find. Perfect.

Enough iron had been smelted to make a pickaxe and a bucket. A good start. Strip mining had never been Dreams favourite, he got bored easily and, unless he managed to hyperfocus on the task, could never pay attention long enough to find anything. However today was different, while he did find himself getting bored and wanting to change tasks, he managed to force himself to continue mining, placing torches periodically to prevent spawns. The tightness in his chest eased a little at the moment.

Eventually he had enough iron for armour. It wouldn't be as strong as the netherite he was used to, the netherite he needed if he were to survive an encounter with another player, but it was better than nothing. Hadn't Technoblade beaten Quackity while only wearing iron armour? Although that was Quackity, Dream would need better armour to survive an encounter with a competent player.

Dream spotted diamonds, the last few he'd need for a full set of armour and tools. There was a problem though, they were across a large lava lake. He could already feel the heat, humid and heavy just like in the cell. The cell he'd only just escaped from. He could do this though, just bridge across the lava, grab the diamonds and head out. He'd need to deal with more lava in the nether anyway, this was nothing. This couldn't harm him. It just simply couldn't.

Dream shifted, edging across the lake. Slowly. He was usually so fast, it must have been the effects of the elder guardians, he told himself, his weakened muscles from the elder guardians, that must be it. Heat rose up to meet him, making him sweat under his heavy armour. His armour was so heavy, his muscles were weaker but were his bones as well? How long had it been since he had seen sunlight? There had been a small amount of time today, before he went mining, and it had been blinding. Too bright and yet not enough at the same time. He wanted to just lay in the sunshine with grass beneath his fingers forever. He had to bring his vitamin D levels up again. He wondered how many vitamins he was deficient in now, thanks to Sam. His body was wrecked and it was all Sam's fault, and Tommy's and Tubbo's as well.

The sound of the lava though, was what almost got him. It bubbled and popped rhythmically, always the same. In the cell there had been exactly three sounds: the elder guardians coming to weaken him, the constant ticking of the clock striking its way into his brain, and the bubble and pop of the lava preventing him from getting out. He knew every small sound lava could make, down to the smallest detail, and it was here again now. Except this time he had blocks and air above the lava. And, he realised while quickly unshifting and looking through his inventory, a water bucket. The hissing of obsidian being made was music to his ears, gone was the sound, almost. There was still a layer under the obsidian that was still quietly bubbling away, but the sound was obscured. Dream looked at the obsidian, that tightness in his chest was back. He ignored it, he had exclusively walked on obsidian for the last few months, he could do this again. He did. He walked, slowly, almost too slowly, over to the diamonds and mined them up. It was an eight vein, more than enough to complete everything. A couple diamonds to spare would always help anyway.

Next came enchantments, or the nether. He should probably check what he had in his ender chest, it had been so long he had almost forgotten anything that was in there, but the only ones he knew of were by where people lived (for obvious reasons) and he didn't exactly want to go there. So, he figured, off to the nether it was. Blaze powder and pearls were what he needed. Unenchanted diamond armour, he was prepared enough, he was over prepared if anything. Unless he found a player.Dream quickly found another lava pool, better to make a new portal than risk being found in a known one. The lava raised the same reaction as last time, but he needed it this time, he couldn't get rid of it. Well he could, he had a diamond pickaxe, but that was slow. Dream wasn't exactly known for being slow. He placed a block in the lava and the water next to it, steam came up to meet him as obsidian was formed. Breaking the block he placed caused more steam and more obsidian, but the base of the portal was complete. He made an upside down L shape with some cobble, placing water at the top. Now it was time to pick up the lava. Why couldn't he pick up the lava? He used to throw himself into lava for fun and how his stupid brain was saying he couldn't handle it through a bucket? Dream's breathing quickened, this was bad. He picked the water back up and made the rest of the lake into obsidian. The diamond pick would be useful after all. He told himself it was because he needed extra obsidian for an ender chest.

The purple spirals of the portal stared at Dream. He needed to go through. He needed to go through and find a fortress, not die, not have a panic attack, and get out. The first three points would be easy, the last? He had held it off so far, he could continue to do so. Until he was the most powerful person on the server again, he would not allow himself to rest enough for his brain to catch up on what happened. When he was safe, when he was feared, he could allow himself to examine his mental health, make it stronger again. He couldn't be seen as weak, they'd kill him, or put him back in the prison. He couldn't be weak. Dream stepped through the portal.

There were a few signs of life, but it didn't seem like he was in a well trafficked area. Not the best spawn, but he could work with it for now. He sneaked constantly, on the off chance someone else was around. The heat if the nether reminded him of the cell. At least there wasn't much obsidian around. He had spawned in a warped forest, so he quickly dug into the wall a little and stared at an enderman. He was too far for it to reach him, but he could reach it. It dropped a pearl. One half down, now he just needed to find a fortress. He added angry endermen to the list of sounds he wasn't sure why he missed, but did nonetheless.

The endermen reminded him of a certain hybrid waiting back in the overworld. He'd have to get into contact with Ranboo again.

He had never minded the heat of the nether before, but now it suffocated him. He longed for the wind, even the stale but cold air from caves, but he had to press on. He told himself the humidity, or the heat, was the reason he had difficulty breathing.

Eventually, Dream found a fortress. The blaze spawner was pretty easy to find as well. Finally, luck had decided to give him a break. The first blaze he killed didn't drop a rod, but the second one did. Blocking himself away, he pulled out a crafting table. The blaze rod got turned into power, then combined with the pearl to make an eye of ender. Finally, Dream surrounded the eye in obsidian, creating an ender chest.They have off a faint glow. Being boxed into the wall with netherack all around, the ender chest was Dream's only source of light. He had missed the darkness, the lava had always illuminated his cell, giving off a bright orange light that he couldn't escape. The chest was different though, softer, easier on the eyes.

Dream opened his ender chest. He found his spare set of netherite armour, not fully enchanted but he could make it work for now, he'd get books in a bit to make it stronger. He'd have to be stronger this time. This could never happen again. There was also a bunch of netherite, he'd upgrade his tools in a bit, once he was out of the nether. And, of course, there was his trident, his riptide III trident. Some small voice inside him hoped it was still raining when he got back to the surface.

He had God apples now. How appropriate, he thought, that the man who can bring back the dead, a walking god, get access again to his God apples.Dream ditched the diamond armour and tools, and pulled on the netherite. Nightmare. He still needed to train, get his strength back, brew potions. But he was back, and the people who threw him into the obsidian prison were going to pay.

He made his way back to the portal, back to the overworld. He had to admit to himself, however much he hated to do so, that he now hated the nether. It was too hot, too much lava, the bubble and pop sounding over and over and over just like in the prison, the stupid obsidian box. He'd use the overworld for travel when he could. But, he thought to himself, he couldn't show weakness to others, they couldn't know how they'd managed to infect his mind, he would travel via the nether when with others. If he ever was with others. Was there anyone left that didn't hate him? That hadn't left him? Dream pushed those thoughts aside, forced himself to climb back to the surface. The cold air of the caves was a relief from the nether, but it was the rain he was seeking.

Dream hopped onto the grass and just stood there for a few seconds, letting the cold soothing rain hit his face. He'd get too cold soon, he knew that his body's ability to regulate temperature was ruined by living next to lava for- how long was it? Dream didn't know, doubted he ever would for certain.He had a riptide trident, a water bucket, and feather falling netherite boots. Dream smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time in a long long while. Pulling out his trident, he pushed himself into the air. Wind and rain whipped his face, he didn't know he could miss this. Dream flew through the air, he was finally free.

Now time to grind, then hunt down Sam.

[seizethecarpe]

Know By Hart || Solo

Timing: Current Summary: No matter how practiced he was, Dave had never been good with grief. Triggers: Somehow… none. Contains grief.  Author note: Before you read this, I want us all to remember that I’m completely innocent please file your complaints to the local mime ungulate 

In 2004, José De Nueves had walked into Dave’s life. He’d had an easy smile and slightly glassy eyes. It had taken a rusalka, a Swedish fortune teller, and three drinks for José to hold up his hair and reveal in true depth the feathery scars that framed his face. He grinned with two teeth missing as he’d explained the tendril like creatures he’d hunted for one night. “Made me the perfect soldier,” He’d said with a laugh as he downed his whiskey glass. “I don’t give a fuck about anything.”

When Dave had followed his scent to a crypt a year later, he’d found a spawn chewing on José’s drained neck, a stark reminder of how the smallest mistakes could make even the routine hunt a death sentence. He’d wondered that night if José had even cared as they’d ripped his guts out in front of them, felt anything at all as they’d dragged it out of him until his intestines had torn all over the cemetery lawn. Or if he’d screamed and begged for his family anyway, right at the end, his soul returning to life only when it was too little, too late.

Unsure which fate was worse, Dave’d raised a glass in the man’s memory, and chose to forget. 

——- 

In ‘11, there had been Jasmine. Her honey warm skin highlighted the feathery scar that tucked under her jaw. Her bar, her spare room and her bed had all been Dave’s home for a little. But she’d always been clear that when push came to shove, he wasn’t her priority, he wasn’t human enough to risk her life for. All the same, they’d talked for hours under the thick cover of clouds as they waded up mountains to find the monstrous beast contaminating the local springs, they’d talked through her thick cigarette smoke, outside the fading wooden sign of her bar. They had talked more than Dave had spoken to anyone in years. She bared his soul, little by little, and in turn one day she told him about the nest nearby that she sent her friends too when they had lost one thing too many. Dave had listened intently, harder than he’d listened to anything, until the glass in his hand had shattered. 

Not too long, she’d warned. You could lose too much of yourself too fast, and end up more ghost than man. The next day Dave had hiked five miles, peering into the edge of a dried out lake, and saw the silvery creatures there, languidly floating through the air with a dozen tentacles. Dave thought of José, all light gone from behind his eyes, and Jasmine whose grief sometimes sounded wrong, like an untrained actor on the stage. Dave turned and left, hungry tendrils chasing after him fir half a mile.

Two years later, Jasmine had insisted she was retired at forty two, but there hadn’t been another slayer for a hundred miles, so she had come when he’d called anyway. Some cruel unnatural winds had extinguished their fires, and when the aipaloovik wrapped its arms around her and pulled her underwater, Dave made just one attempt to get her free before he told himself there was nothing he could do. 

The white polyps she’d told him about haunted his thoughts longer than she did. A quiet, gentle what if. 

——-

Last year, Dave had met a boy wearing a grin like armour and who considered his enhanced healing another weapon in his arsenal. Dave had saved him from drowning, the kid had saved his life with the penance for the murder of Winn Woods. And then the saving had happened again, over and over, until it became as routine as the wise cracks and eye rolls. 

He loved you. It rattled around in his head. When he’d seen the words on his phone in what had obviously been a final goodbye, Dave hadn’t let them ring any more true than the promise that they’d go fishing with beers. Now, the caster’s voice was stuck in his head, sneaking up on him when he was elbow deep in the bowels of his van’s engine, as he garroted a fish to eat in his human form, when he covered his body with slime to slide into his seal pelt. Sixty feet of ocean above him and he still wasn’t safe from Nell Vural’s voice. Thanks for that, Adam.

It was worst in the mundane moments, like folding laundry, because his mind churned while his hands were busy. See, Dave found it easiest to associate with hunters because he always knew they were destined to die. Everyone agreed there were things no one talked about because there was the deep undercurrent of knowing that Dave probably broke most of their codes, but as long as they didn’t know, it could go ignored. It was an emotional barrier that suited everyone just fine. Until now, apparently.

Dave smoothed his fingers over the edge of a shirt that had seen better days, folding it down as tight as he could before putting it away in a drawer that clipped into the wall of his van. His van was a mess, fishing gear scattered across the floor, seaweed drying on a bucket he hadn’t cleaned out, photos hanging skew on the wall. He wasn’t ever perfectly neat because how humans took care to keep their possessions perfectly in line was alien to him (the sea was never tidy), but he damn well knew he could do better than this. 

Humans considered it a sign of intimacy to show someone their living spaces. Dave couldn’t remember the last time he’d let anyone in here that he wasn’t giving a ride elsewhere. Adam hadn’t known him, not really. Hadn’t seen the emptiness in Dave’s heart, that the fire that kept him going ran on fumes. Who the hell was he to speak of love, when Dave hadn’t let him deeper than his second skin? That there was so little left in Dave worth loving. 

He looked down at the shirt he was folding, the collar pressed down skewed and the sides lined up at angles, and realised at some point he’d picked up the wonkyphoto from the wall, and the cracked, bloody compass Nell had given him that Dave had put on his bedside table and not looked at again. In the photo, three toothy sharp smiles were yellowed with age, teenage boys tussling in the sand. The photographer’s shadow stretched across the sand beside them, and even twenty five years later he could see the impatience behind the boys’ expressions at the doting woman behind the camera. The brass of the compass offered no such warmth, and filled the interior of the van with the scent of the last blood Adam had ever spilled. He flicked it open, and saw it pointing south west again. How could he forget, his home wasn’t a house but an underwater grave.

Fucking ironic, that each grief pointed so sharply to the other, blurring the lines of his most defining pain. Dave didn’t know how long he stared between one and the other before he returned to folding his shirts, and putting them away. He hung the photo back on the wall, and carefully put the compass away along with the rest of his fishing gear, tucked into fabric so that the scrapes it had taken in Adam’s final moments would be its last. When he was done with the laundry, Dave’s mind was set. 

His grief had always been a call to action.

--------

In the hours of hiking since Dave had set out, White Crest becoming a distant blip on the horizon, Dave hadn’t changed his mind. More doubts should have crept in, but they hadn’t once, his mind clear of thought and feeling already. Just one step past the other, past the purple heather fields and overflooded lily pad ponds, under canopies drooping with pine needles and summer chirping birds. 

White tiny flecks began floating past his face through the trees, which slowly grew as he walked deeper into the heather moors. White floating tendrils extended out, brushing against his clothes and hair. The deeper he walked into the cloud, the more the air felt like water, as if the trees had become kelp forests and he was swimming through clouds of chrinoids. The only thing that made the masses of them different than a mist was that Dave could not feel his way through it. They pulsed around him like Jellyfish, glowing under the setting sun.

In the densest part of the mist, he turned instead to an ethereal white creature at his side, as large as an old TV. Its mass of white tentacles fluttered against Dave’s skin curiously. Shame prickled in his veins, flinching away from those delicate touches. The sick, sinking feeling that this was wrong finally set in, worse than most vices that people leant on for their grief. If Adam could see him- but Adam couldn’t. He wasn’t a single damn person’s role model, and didn’t owe anyone his grief. Not even for a good man whose connection to him had been skin deep and yet reached him to his core. Dave swallowed, and turned back to the town for the first time since he’d made this choice, but all he saw was the clouds of white as he weighed the same thing as so many others had before him. 

Grief had always been a call to action. He stepped a little closer, and didn’t flinch as the tendrils brushed against the side of his face, then latched on.

The tendrils were as gentle as a kiss. He’d expected it to be like the time he’d gotten tangled up in an octopus, suckers bruising his skins for days, but if he hadn’t felt the white static encroaching on his mind, this wouldn’t have been unpleasant at all. Tendrils which hadn’t attached traced over the planes of his face, lulling his eyes closed. Peace spread from those pinpricks deeper into his mind, and he could see the appeal of staying here for eternity. Let them clear him out, until there was nothing left except his mission. 

Dave sighed quietly as he felt himself become lesser. He pulled away, and the tentacles let him, and Dave couldn’t even feel the absence of whatever they had taken. That was good, feeling the loss would have been too close to more grieving. The flickering tendrils of the hartvlinders trailed after him as he hurried away, through the clouds of gentle creatures until he burst out into the dying of the sunlight. 

Dave tested a memory like he might tongue at a broken tooth. Deep in a swamp with the rotting corpse of a giant fish clogging up his nose. Dave gave a countdown before lowering Adam into the cleanest water they could find, working quickly to wash off the last of the acid gunk. Adam had been weak kneed and badly burned after his adventure in the monster’s stomach, but he had shut his eyes dutifully and held his breath as Dave washed the worst of the acid out of his hair with exceeding care. As soon as he was out of the water, he’d cracked a joke filled with post hunt exuberance, one after the other while they waited for their stamina to return, until holding back his grin made his cheeks hurt. They hurt again now, hot tear tracks prickling his face. Dave sagged against a tree, and then down onto his knees. Something was gone, he was sure, but not this. The hartvlinder hadn’t been so goddamn kind as to take away his newest, sharpest grief. Or even what he’d really wanted gone: the regret of words left unsaid, the guilt of outliving another kid, the shame of envying a good man for a life where he’d completed his mission and saved everyone.  

Dave would have to learn to wear it until it became another ropey scar on his heart, another line on his death-weighted net. 

[crispyjenkins]

Prompt where the 212 gets together to paint Obi-Wan’s armor so he would wear it more but at some point our fool gets captured and his captor wears the armor to piss Kenobi off so when the 212 comes in Cody goes absolutely feral when he sees someone else where his general’s armor and Kenobi gets absolutely railed by Cody after.

(i don’t do smut, but i love this idea so so much, i really don’t know why i haven’t come across more painted armour Obi stuff, and y’all have probably realised i’m all about Obi angst, sooo this one was a lot of fun. thank you so much for prompting, lovely! threw in some headcanon mandalorian family and courting culture just for you) 

  Jedi were not made to wear armour, they were not soldiers, at least not before. Cody knows his general picked up clone culture better than most, from the little bits of Mando’a to the importance of Vode An, and he should perhaps be thankful that General Kenobi wears any armour at all, but what good are simple pauldrons and vambraces when Kenobi throws himself against hundreds of clankers without backup on a weekly basis?

  It’s Wupi that suggests it, drunk on Waxer’s rotgut and going grey with how often he has to patch up their general after missions. Boil is mostly amused by Kenobi’s apparent death wish, but he isn’t like their medic, or Cody: he doesn't have to deal with the fallout when Kenobi comes back to the Negotiator so much worse off than his men.

  “Why don’t we give him one o’ yours armours?” Wupi had slurred, half out of his blacks and staring into his cup like it would relieve him of his duty. “S’General’s too nice to lose someone else’s.” 

  Wooley had jerked his attention from his own cup and stared at Cody because that... that wasn’t a bad idea. 

  And because Wupi is too hungover the next day to do anything about it himself, it’s Wooley that starts the task of finding and retrofitting pieces of clone armour to fit their general (their “wonderfully tiny" general, as Wupi had put before passing out in his chair). It takes a few days, bouncing between three different quartermasters and Commander Tano for input on how to wear it over more traditional Jedi clothes, but Wooley finally amasses something close to a full set that they might convince Kenobi to wear, and then goes around giving each member of the Ghost Company a few pieces to paint. 

  Cody tries not to think about why Wooley gives him the chestplate. He tries really hard.

  There’s something to be said about family giving each other armour, of course, Cody doesn’t think Wooley or Boil or Wupi or Waxer are trying to woo their general, and it shows in the pieces of armour they choose to paint, but the breastplate is... forward, when not given in a familial sense, and Cody can’t pretend that he is. Giving it in a familial sense. Kriff. 

  Ghost Company all sit together in the empty mess one night, Cody having strategically made sure their sleeping shifts line up, and they paint the pieces while drinking more of Waxer’s rotgut and pretending they don’t have a battle tomorrow that they might not win. Cody’s men paint each piece to match their own, so that Kenobi’s set is a mix of bits of each of them. They aren’t quite sure how it works for natborn Mandalorians, there were limits on what the Kaminoins let the Cuy’val Dar teach them, but this is as close as they can get to claiming Ken— Obi-Wan as one of the vode. The meaning won’t be lost on him.

  Cody carefully paints his sun rays onto Obi-Wan’s chestplate, the orange crisp and shiny-bright, and he wonders if Obi-Wan knows the meaning of colours on beskar’gam. He seems to know a lot about Mandalorian culture that even the clones don’t, but Cody has never pushed to know more about why, not when it makes Obi-Wan clam up like that.

  Boil finishes quickly, and just as quickly gets completely smashed to the point he’s singing the last raunchy jig they’d picked up planet-side, and it’s almost calming to see him so relaxed. Waxer smiles fondly at his brother and switches his cup for one of water instead, shaking his head at Wooley’s disapproving glare. 

  Cody waits until the others have gone to bed to ask for the medic’s steady hand, to help him stencil a beskar’ta right above the sternum. He isn’t sure if he’s ever seen another vode with a beskar’ta, and perhaps it’s a little presumptuous for Cody to give Obi-Wan one without discussing it with him first, but he can offer no greater protection to his general. The way Wupi doesn’t say anything when Cody carefully paints in the lines says more about his relationship with Obi-Wan than he’d really like to admit. 

  Cody isn’t there when Wooley presents the armour to him, but when Obi-Wan joins them in the hangar before descent planet-side, he wears every piece as if it were the regalia of some ancient royal, and not a cobbled-together attempt to keep him alive. The rest of the 212th hide their stares inside their buckets, and Obi-Wan still wears his outer robe over it all, but Ghost Company all preen at the sight of their general not only protected, but in their colour and crests. 

  Obi-Wan smiles at Cody as they load into the shuttles, tapping a closed fist over the beskar’ta in all-too-knowing thanks. So he knows at least the familial connotations, which doesn’t bode well for Cody’s half hope that that’s all he knows.

  Crys claps Cody on the shoulder with an eyebrow wiggle, and Cody wishes Jango hadn’t taught them a damn thing. 

-

  Day three without water, even with the Force sustaining him, leaves Obi-Wan more than a little delirious. The Nikto bounty hunter that thought they could somehow convince Count Dooku that they’d captured the famed Negotiator grows increasingly agitated as the hours roll by, and Obi-Wan wishes he had better presence of mind to appreciate it. 

  They have him on his knees and strung up in chains like a barbarian, and stick him with a needle every three hours with some sort of Force suppressor that makes him even more incoherent — Obi-Wan is fairly sure they’re over-drugging him. Actually, perhaps the Force isn’t sustaining him properly; that would certainly explain a lot. 

  The morning of day four in the brig of a ship Obi-Wan can’t remember the make of, the Nikto starts picking through his removed armour, with scathing comments about the colour and fact that it had come from “cannon-fodder slaves that are better put-down than eating up the galaxy’s resources”, and oh, Obi-Wan wishes he could rend them limb from limb.

  “A bastardisation of Mando armour, you know,” the Nikto grumbles, sending Obi-Wan a pitying look when all he can do is grunt angrily. “Look, this even has an iron heart; what poor kriffing fool told you you were allowed to wear such a mark?” Scoffing, the Nikto discards their cloak to slip on Obi-Wan’s chestplate; every last scrap of energy in Obi-Wan screams at the wrongness, and he jerks in his chains.

  The Nikto startles and doesn’t get to fastening the sides as they stare at their prisoner. “You shouldn’t have any mobility left,” they say in part surprise, part anger, getting back to their feet to drag the small medical crate of suppressors back across the room. They kick it open and pull out an almost-empty vial, but don’t get to the needles before a proximity alarm goes off.

  They drop the vial and grab the blaster from their hip, and barely get it up in time for the single door to explode inwards, Ghost Company forcing their way into the room before the smoke has even cleared. And Obi-Wan trusts his men, his family, with every Force-forsaken bit of him, which means he promptly passes out at the sight of them.

  He doesn’t wake in safety, rather with a vibroblade pressed to his throat and a hand twisting cruelly in his hair. His vision is filled with white and orange and warmth, before his brain catches up to what he’s actually seeing, and he focuses on the blank helmets of his men. The suppressors in his system do nothing to hide the molten metal anger that leaks into the Force all around them, and Obi-Wan must look worse than he thought, if Cody’s hand is trembling on his blaster.

  ‘Easy,’ Obi-Wan whispers without moving his lips, Cody giving the smallest of jerks so Obi-Wan knows the message is received.

  ‘Sir?’ Cody shifts on his feet, the Nikto saying something from behind Obi-Wan that’s surely full of gloating and threat, but Cody’s helmet is tilted towards Obi-Wan, his presence fluttering in the Force like a lamp in the dark.

  ‘I’m not quite sure how you’re managing this,’ Obi-Wan admits, with half a thought to the cosmic implication of Cody giving him a beskar’ta, which has meaning even outside Mandalore, outside even the Force. ‘But my lovely captor is weak on their left side, an old injury, I think.’

  ‘He’s wearing your armour,’ Cody all but growls and raises his blaster properly, and the Nikto must sense the change as they nervously fumble the vibroblade and cut through the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic.

  And Obi-Wan is tired, he’s been in chains for four days with drugs he’s never encountered burning the ends of his nerves and cutting off an entire sense he has never been without, so he looks up until he meets Cody’s eyes squarely. ‘Then relieve them of it.’

  ‘With pleasure, sir.’

Mando’a: Vode An — "Brothers All" (a Mando’a war chant taught to the clones by Jango and the Cuy’val Dar)  Cuy’val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy beskar’ta — “Iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called ka’rta beskar or “heart of the iron”