#I shared a very small sneak peak with two people and they both responded with DEAD

[ishipthis]

Half of chapter four is done and guys! But what does it say that even I feel triggered after reading what Freddie says in this chapter?

You guys are going to really like this, if you make it out of it that is. 🥵🧊🥂😘

[literaila]

its slippery. 

loki x gn!reader 

summary: you arrive home to find loki alseep on the couch. obviously, you walk past without an issue. (its just fluff.)

*

not even on your tip-toes could you sneak past loki. 

you’d arrived home-- albeit late, it was dark outside, cold in the house --to find loki, asleep on the couch, cuddling a blanket on the couch. 

after a day of meetings, people bossing you around, and an abundant lack of patience, it was a wonderful sight. the best thing you’d seen all day.

it took all your willpower not to take a picture of him (and then proceed to share it with anyone and everyone who might appreciate it as much as you were). all your willpower.

but instead, you smiled at him adoringly, glad to see that he was relaxing while you were at work, then debated against going and giving him a kiss without waking up and eventually came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t end well.

your standing in the doorway ended when you took your shoes off and attempted to walk past him to your bedroom door without disturbing him. 

unfortunately, coordination wasn't your strong suit. about halfway there you tripped on apparently nothing and just barely managed to keep yourself up. it was almost embarrassingly loud. 

so no, not even on your tip-toes could you sneak past loki. or manage to walk to your bedroom door. 

you held your breath for a moment, not daring to turn around and face loki who was surely awake now. it was a moment before you heard the grumble from his mouth. 

“you are the least discreet person i have ever met,” 

something about his tired voice and the annoyed words coming from him made you smile, forgetting momentarily about your embarrassment and finally turning around to grin at him. 

he was still snuggled against the blanket, only one eye open. 

“you must know some very sneaky people then,” you titled your head at him, pretending not to notice the roll of his eye.

his “irritation” was adorable, and to see it some more was to breathe air.

you moved to the opposite end of the couch, purposefully as far from him as possible, setting your bag down next to the coffee table and picking up the book loki had left sitting there. you flicked through it, peaking your eyes up every few moments as you watched him.

“just the leviathan i share a bed with.” loki said, voice still rough, shoving his face into the blanket. 

you laughed, half offended, half shocked and threw a pillow over at him without taking your eyes off the page you were scanning.

the book was held high enough to hide your smile from watchful eyes.

loki finally sat up at your attack, flicking his hair away from his face, staring at you. it didn't go unnoticed to either of you that you were smiling, despite the object blocking loki’s gaze.

“good day at work, darling?” he asked, voice a bit more cheerful, a bit more awake.

you hummed, pretending to be disinterested with the conversation, trying to actually read whatever this book was. it wasn’t working, his voice was distracting. “it was alright,” you shrugged.

loki moved a bit closer, you didn’t look up to see the question in his eyes.

“that’s very wonderful darling, sounds-“ when he stopped, looking towards the other end of the room, you finally took the chance to sneak a peek at him. “did you really just trip on the floor?” he pointed towards the door, perking a brow at you.

of course, now he would notice.

“it’s slippery,” you defended, putting the book down and crossing your arms. you mirrored his gaze.

“slippery?”

“yes.”

loki chuckled which only made you glare at him. he crossed his arms in an imitation of you, barely hiding his smirk.

“we might have to get that inspected,” he said, mock-thoughtfully, faking concern. bastard. “wouldn’t want the mortal to go slipping on the floor again.” he was trying to annoy you, obviously, and it wouldn’t work.

“i’ll have you know, god of whatever, that-“

you paused when you noticed him moving closer, sliding closer, staring at you.

“i’m listening, darling,” he said, close enough to run his finger along your thigh, to stare at you and still mess with you.

his eyes were frightening— and beautiful.

“well, um,” you weren’t watching him anymore. you were staring down at the hand that was moving it’s way up your thigh, trailing itself over your hip.

“darling?” your eyes snapped back up to him. he wasn’t trying to hide the smirk anymore.

bastard bastard bastard.

you stared back at him, forgetting what you were supposed to be saying.

“you were about to tell me how the floor was responsible for interrupting my nap?” he prompted, eyes sparkling at you.

“right, yes,” you swallowed, feeling the hand on your waist now. he was still getting closer to you. “the floor,”

loki smiled wider, looking down finally, still touching you. “are you alright, darling?” he was teasing you in so many ways, you followed his eyes.

and then you grabbed his hand, glaring at him again. “you’re cheating,” you pushed his hand back to him, softly, the corner of your lip twitching.

“we aren’t playing a game,” his eyes were wide, innocent, but his smirk was all-knowing.

“you’re always playing games,” you accused. he was moving closer to you again, enjoying your non-intimidating glare and smiling at you some more.

clearly, he wasn’t tired.

he was right next to you now, leaning his head down to your ear, teasing you with his breathing.

you couldn’t look at him anymore with how close he was.

“but isn’t it fun?” loki whispered, moving down to place a small kiss on your neck. another. another.

and then he was kissing every available inch of your skin and you didn’t really have it in you to reply.

“darling?” loki whispered, a minute later when he was breathing against your skin, when he was pausing to look at your face.

you smiled at him. it was sweet.

and then you tackled him down against the couch, throwing yourself over him. he fell down with an “oof” and you smiled deviously at him.

his eyes were scanning your face, a shocked laugh coming from him.

“this is fun,” you said.

“are all mortals as tireless as you?” he asked, amusement lighting his eyes.

you didn’t respond, instead bringing your nose down on top of his and laughing at his reaction to your proximity.

“i was trying to enchant you,” he half complained, half explained.

you stared at him, dubiously.

it took a moment and then—

“no not literally-“ exasperated, he looked away from you, hiding his smile once again.

you giggled, kissing his cheek. “too bad it didn’t work,”

loki looked back at you again, glaring at you playfully, leaning his head up so you could kiss his neck. you complied.

the two of you were tangled together, his hand moving across your waist, your hand around his neck. you were much warmer than him, it was a pleasant feeling to both of you. 

“i could always try again,” he said, teasing. he was trailing his hand up your back, causing goosebumps to crawl their way up your skin. not that you would let him know that. 

"hmm," you hummed, breathing him in once more. 

and then, in an instant, you were getting off of him, leaving him with one more kiss and picking up your bag once again.

“hey-“ loki groaned, the sudden change so quick that he didnt even get the chance to look shocked. he was sitting up, confused, trying to pull you back. 

“i’ve got to go get changed,” you said, smirking at loki, glad for the upper-hand. “there’ll be time for that later,”

he pouted at you, standing up to follow. “this is cruel,” 

you laughed, once, turning around to look at him. “don’t blame me. you started it,” 

he was trying to grab after you, trying to keep you from walking through the door. his hands were grabbing, clinging onto your waist. you were trying to hide your smile, trying not to squeal at his insistency. he was quietly chuckling at you, his hold strong. 

and then you were slipping once again, he was pulling you some more so you were slipping, in the same place from before, falling back into him. 

loki didnt let you fall-- would never --but when you looked up at him, he was smirking again. 

“how in the nine realms did i start it-“

such a bastard. 

* 

my masterlist here. 

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin’s radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

Warnings: Hopper being a c*p 🤢 [ACAB BABEY], mentions of animal death, very brief mentions of anxiety

**Y/H = your height, ex; short, tall etc H/C = hair color**

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Alrighty. One scoop of chocolate, that'll be buck twenty five."

Steve places the cone in the girl's hands, smirking to himself when her hands meet his. With a shy yet charming grin he mumbles a soft 'there you go' and suddenly her hand is no longer touching his. The brief physical contact didn't seem to mean quite what it meant to him, as she looked rather eager to get back to her day at the mall. But Steve still saw a fighting chance when he spotted the gold letters displayed across her sweatshirt.

"Ah, Perdue." His eyes light up in recognition, and he sends her a silly smile. "Fancy."

She smiles brightly and Steve's spirits lift. She nods, handing over the money and readjusts her purse. "Yeah. I'm excited."

"Ah, you know I considered it." Steve nods, fingers flying across the register. "Perdue, but then I was like, you know what?"

A light air of resolve falls over him and the across the counter begin to shift as uncomfortable smiles flit across their faces. The second even trying to wipe the amused expression off of her face at Steve's obvious attempts at her friend. A knowing look is then passed on between the pair as Steve continues, seemingly unaffected. 

"I really think I need some real life experience, ya know, before I hit college. See what it feels like to, kinda uh, like, I don't know," He shrugs with a charming smile that doesn't quite reach the girls who now boredly lick at their melting ice cream cones. "See what it's like to earn a working man's wage, you know and uh-"

The register he fiddles with decides his time is up, its circuits shorting out as they did every few weeks and stuck itself into one endless high pitched beep that cuts him off. Flustered, Steve attempts to save the conversation not before subduing the intrusive noise, as he mutters a quick apology.

"-I think that's really important, and uh,"

"Yeah, totally," She responds, choking back a pathetic laugh.

Rolling with the punches, Steve shrugs goofily still wearing his best smile.

"Yeah, anyways, this was like, so fun," he laughs, the nerves now overtaking him. "We should, like, I don't know, maybe hangout? Like this weekend or something-?"

Yet again, he is cut off as the change he intends to give her spill out of his hands and onto the counter.

"Oh, sorry about that," he fumbles as she begins collecting the scattered coins off the counter. "Uh, I don't know, maybe next weekend?"

"Uh, I'm busy." She laughs uncomfortably as she tucks the coins away into her purse.

"Oh, that's cool. And I'm-" Steve nods, scratching his head. "I'm working here next weekend so... the following weekend is probably better for me."

"Uh, no. I'm sorry, I can't."

Her friend begins to laugh into her ice cream and even she is biting back a smile as she hurriedly collects herself to leave and Steve nods.

"Okay," The girls chuckle to themselves as they make their leave for the door. "Thanks."

"I..." Steve stumbles, his voice awkwardly trailing off as they do. "This is my first day here, so..."

But they were already filing back out into the crowds, giggling between each other at his poor attempts. Not that he could blame them.

"And another one bites the dust."

He sighs heavily, head sagging over his shoulders before swiveling around to face the girl carrying a mischievous glint in her eye and that damned scoreboard. Scrawled across the top of the divided two sections; YOU SCORE, which remained completely blank, and YOU SUCK which carried a total of five--

"You are oh for," --now six. "six, Popeye."

Steve nods bitterly with his arms folded over his chest. "Yeah, yeah, I can count." He sighs.

"You know that means you suck."

Against all odds - and the bitter taste of annoyance on his tongue - Steve still finds a smile creeping up on his face, however forced.

"Yep, I can read, too."

The spark of mischief in her eyes is fueled like a small flame, and a cocky smile twists her lips. "Since when?"

"It's the stupid hat." Steve groans, ignoring her comment and saunters over to lean against the back counter. "I am telling you, it is totally blowing my best feature."

Robin tucks away the menu-turned-score board back against the wall before folding her arms on the counter, draping herself lazily in the back window.

"Yeah, company policy is a real drag." She drawls. "You know, it's a crazy idea but have you considered... telling the truth?"

"Oh, you mean, that I couldn't even get into Tech and my douchebag dad's trying to teach me a lesson, I make three bucks an hour and I have no future? That truth?"

Robin's eyes drift past his shoulder and she quickly gestures. "Hey, twelve o'clock."

Steve's head whips over his shoulder to find a small parade of girls striding towards the counter, reigniting the nerves in his gut. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Okay... Uh..."

He turns back to Robin, his eyes darting across the counter as his mind races. Robin can practically hear the silent pep talk he's giving himself.

"I'm going in. Okay?" He says, more to himself than her. He nearly whips around to face them had it not been for the sudden hesitation brought on by a burst of confidence. "And you know what?"

He rips the tacky sailor's hat off his head pulling a curl loose that dangled on his forehead as he smirks. "Screw company policy."

Less than impressed, Robin doesn't even attempt to hide her boredom. "Oh, my god, you're a whole new man." She deadpans.

"Right?" He shakes his head around on his shoulders in a goofy manner as he backs away, drawing out a weak chuckle from the girl.

In one step he whirls himself around to face the small posse of girls at a frightening speed, even startling several gasps out of them.

"Ahoy ladies! Didn't see you there," he shouts, propping himself up on the counter with his arms. Several girls in the group watch him wide eyed and still a bit off put. "Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain. I'm Steve Harrington."

"Oh, god." The red head mutters to herself, exasperated as her friends begin to giggle.

"Can I get you guys a little taste of Cherries Jubilee? No? Anybody? Banana Boat? Four people, four spoons?"

Robin watches from the back room as the fire spreads, a wince overtaking her face as she steps back to her board, uncapping her pen as his boisterous voice echoes throughout the ice cream parlor.

"Sharing a booth? Anybody? It's hot out there."

Make that oh-for-seven.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"And I know this is a difficult conversation to have..."

Hopper's unsteady voice travels at a slow pace as he digests the words on the scrap of paper in his hands. His face is contorted in an uncomfortable grimace as he hears them leave his mouth but he tries to persist.

"but I hope you know that I care about you very much. And I know that you-"

"Eye contact-" Joyce softly reminds, from where sits opposite, her legs dangling off the empty pharmacy counter.

There's a brief lull in the station between songs before a familiar melody spills from the wire speakers in the corner of the store, Patsy Cline's She’s Got You. It's quiet and hard to hear but the lyrics still seep into Hopper's subconscious, briefly aiding his nerves in throwing his attention off course as he meets Joyce's deep brown eyes.

"And I know that... we both care about each other very much." Immediately he rejects the words coming off his tongue and shakes his head at her choice of words. "This does not sound like me at all."

"Just keep going. Come on." She reassures.

Hopper draws in a deep breath, clutching the makeshift script between his balled fists that were tucked nervously in between his knees. "Which is why I think it's important to establish these boundaries..."

He squints, straining against his anxieties to remember the words she had helped him brainstorm. "moving forward..." 

he sneaks a peak at the crumpled up paper in his hands, earning a soft chiding from Joyce who shakes her head.

"No looking. You know this. Come on."

Another deep inhale brings an uneasy look on Hopper's face as he shakes his head, tucking away the paper back in between his knees.

"so we can build an environment... uh... where we..."

Joyce silently watches with a series of encouraging nods, her hands gently waving like that of an orchestra conductor.

"all feel comfortable and trusted and open..."

Joyce nods once more, a light in her eyes as that silently encourages him. That puts him at ease. "'Share our feelings'..."

"...to sharing our feelings-- This isn't gonna work." He shakes his head, giving into the discomfort building all around him and he rises to his feet. "Um, it's not gonna work. It's not gonna work."

"Yes, it will!" She scolds. "I promise."

He shakes his head as he expels another patch of nerves, and joins her on the counter.

"Oh, come on." She pleads softly.

"Maybe I'll just kill Mike," he grunts sarcastically. "I'm the chief of police, I can cover it up." [👁👄👁]

Joyce gives his knuckles a reassuring pat before she sends him another encouraging smile. Even as he leans against the counter that she is currently hoisted onto, he still manages to tower over her. 

"You got this." She gives another reassuring squeeze, and Hopper feels like a cheesy bastard for noticing the timing of it all. The swelling of the music and the spark she left whenever their hands met in the past few months, but he didn’t mind. "I promise."

The music seems to grow louder around them, and she still hasn't taken her hand from his. He finds himself smiling down at her with that goofy smile he had been wearing a lot lately. It only seemed to make an appearance around her, and he knew this.

"I really don't know what I know,"

Joyce meets his eyes with a genuine look, something familiar brewing in both of their chests. And that scares her. Her mind returns to Bob and the grip of fear tightens around her heart as Hopper looks at her like that.

"You want to have dinner tonight?" He asks, finally breaking more than one kind of silence that lingered between them.

Her heart catches in her throat, and she looks away growing bashful. And uncertain. Joyce can still feel his eyes on her and as he grins down at her flustered expression.

"You can give me some more pointers."

"Oh, I... Um..." Her hand leaves his and settles on her knee, and she returns her gaze to him with an apologetic look swimming in her eyes. "Um, I... I have plans."

"Okay, sure." He smirks, much too enamored with the awkward smile that graced her face to be offended by her answer.

Another comfortable silence befalls them as they sit enjoying one another's company. But even this moment is short lived in the wake of the customer bell announcing a new visitor to the store. Joyce perks, gesturing excitedly to the front as she excuses herself.

"Oh, a customer." Breathlessly, she heaves herself off the counter and eagerly makes her way to the woman up front. "Hey, Carol!"

"Oh, hi, Joyce!" The woman beams as Joyce scurried across the store to meet her. "How are you? So good to see you."

Hopper watches the exchange from where Joyce had left him standing, his eyes locked on the woman who had so quickly and so sneakily became such a vital part of his life. It was only logical to him that this friend of hers, Carol was so happy to see her; Joyce had a way with everyone she met. Not a single person left her company without their day brightened. She knew how to make everyone feel welcomed, heard and loved.

"She's got you,"

Looking at her now, there was no denying it. Not anymore. Hopper wanted that for her, and he hoped more than anything he could be the one to give her that.

||𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The sun beats heavily down on my neck and shoulders the most, and I shiver every once in a while when I feel a bead of sweat fall down my skin. With a groan, I readjust the backpack on my shoulders and put all my energy into just keeping up with Max and Lucas and not on the burning sensation on my skin.

"This isn't fair," I pout. "Heat's my whole thing, I shouldn't be sweating like this."

"Well, good news is we're nearly there," Dustin assures, though I do not feel very comforted.

"Aren't we high enough?" Lucas asks, tugging at the large bag he was lugging over his shoulder.

"Cerebro works best at a hundred meters."

I groan up at the sky as I continue the hike up.

I began to hear spouts of quieted laughter from behind me but it's quickly cut off by Max's flat remark.

"I'm pretty sure people in Utah have telephones."

"Yeah, but Suzie's Mormon." Dustin replies.

"Oh shit." Lucas says surprised. "She doesn't have electricity?"

She's five or six steps ahead of me with her back turned and yet I can still make out Max's eye roll. "Oh, that's the Amish." She corrects tiredly.

"Mormans are super religious white people," Dustin begins. "They have electricity and cars and stuff but since I'm not Mormon, her parents would never approve. It's all a bit... shakespearean."

"Shakespearean?" Max indulges, a smirk in her voice.

"Yeah," Dustin answers, puffing his chest out a little. "Star crossed lovers."

"Right."

"Well, regardless Dustin," I begin, sharing a smile with Will. "I can't wait to be introduced."

I see Dustin perk up even more, and my smile grows. "Yeah?" He asks hopefully.

"Yeah!" I answer. "I wanna be a good sister. Can't wait to repay you for being so cool with me and Will, ya know?"

"Guys?"

I bite back a laugh but my smile is still triumphant. Dustin stops in his tracks, the others stopping as well seeming more than relieved. When Dustin turns to look at me, his face is hardened completely in a threatening glare.

"If you do or even say anything, I swear I will-"

"GUYS!"

Me and Dustin break away from our small fight and everyone turns to find Mike and El several feet down the hill. They're standing hand in hand and sending us all weak apologetic smiles and I feel my heart sink.

"This was fun and all, but uh..." Mike trails off, tapping his watch obnoxiously.

"I have to get home." El finished.

All mischief I was previously feeling with Dustin vanished, quickly replaced by guilt as I stole a quick glance at his saddened expression and the duo before us.

"We're almost there!" He says, completely bewildered and I can hear the hurt in his voice.

"Sorry man," Mike says, not sounding very sorry at all. "Curfew."

He starts to back away down the hill and he takes El's hand and whispers something to her that I don't catch.

El sent us all a warm look, as if nothing was wrong and for the first time I was upset to see her smile.

"Good luck," she says, before following on Mike's heels with an elated giggle.

I stare after them, my eyes burning holes in their backs and my hands no doubt burning holes in my pockets if I wasn't careful enough.

"Curfew at four?" Dustin asks, finally catching on to the majority of our summer without him.

"They're lying." Lucas huffs.

I see Will shrug angrily next to me. "It's been like this all summer."

"It's romantic," Max offers but even she doesn't sound so convinced.

"It's gross."

I shake my head, letting out a short sigh.

"It's... not healthy." Another flicker of anger attacked me suddenly, and I looked at all my friends bewildered before my glare landed back on the retreating couple. "And what the hell happened to 'friends don't lie'?"

"I don't know but it's bullshit." Dustin replies, his voice sad and filled with disappointment. "I just got home."

I look back over my shoulder and give my brother a sympathetic smile but I know it won't fix anything.

"I'm sorry Dustin. I really didn't think they would do it this time. They seemed so excited for you to come home."

He meets my eye and nods. If I look close enough I can see him rebuilding himself.

"Whatever... They're loss, right?" He smiled at us all and gestured to the hilltop behind us. "Onwards and upwards."

He takes off for the hill at unnatural speeds for our condition and cheers excitedly into the air. "Suzie awaits!"

Well shit, more climbing.

I groan, head landing on Will's shoulder in a tired pout. My voice isn't alone for as soon as I do I hear Max and Lucas throw back similar whines at the remaining trek ahead.

By the time I pick my head up off of Will's shoulder, everyone else is already several steps ahead. I sigh, ripping my stiffened and tired legs from where they rooted into the ground and start after them. Readjusting the backpack over my shoulder, my eyes drill into the top of the hill- the finish line - as I push ahead.

"Think they'll carry me if I fake a leg injury?" I chuckle to Will under my breath.

There's a small silence aside from the distant giggling of El and Mike as they descend the hill and the panting of the others as they run out of breath from the climb above us. I look to my right where Will was previously, only to find him several steps behind me. His back was turned to me and he was nervously clutching the bag of wires he had been carrying.

I took a few cautious steps towards him, my heart pounding for reasons I did not understand.

"Will?"

He scrambles back, jumping from one foot to the other as if dancing on hot coals and it looks as if he sees something in the grass.

"What, what is it? Will!"

He snaps out of his trance, turning to me wide eyed and now several steps closer to me. I quickly bridge the gap to stand by his side, searching his eyes carefully. He casts one last lingering glance out onto the grass where he was previously standing before meeting my eyes. There was something he was holding back, something deeply uncertain in the way he held himself and I got a sinking feeling in my gut.

A sinking feeling not unlike the night I found him outside the arcade. Anger quickly bubbles to the surface at the thought of something else getting him, and without a second thought I take his hand in mine.

He seems to relax a great deal at my touch, and he looks greatly reassured and instantly so am I.

He was still Will.

There was a silence that hung between us as he put on a smile for me. It was far from genuine, that I knew and the only thing it reassured me of was the fact that something definitely scared him.

Will looks past my shoulders, and gestures. "Come on, we better catch up. We've got some revenge to enact." Another forced laugh is let loose and he starts off after them.

Tries to at least, but he's pulled to a stop when I don't move an inch, my hand still tethered to his. He stops, looking back at me curiously.

"Will, you know you can tell me anything right?" I see a flicker of fear in his eyes. "I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what. And so are your friends. Well,"

I laugh bitterly.

"you know what I mean."

Will presses his lips into a flat smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and nods a little too eagerly.

"I know," he reassures. "I promise."

One final flicker of fear flashes in his eyes as he seems to purge it from his system, quickly replacing it with a bright and happy expression. He tugs gently on our interlocked hands and gestures up the hill.

"Now... you ready to meet Dustin's first girlfriend?" He asks with a growing smirk.

I shake my head as a small laugh bubbles up despite the anxiety brewing fresh in my stomach. It still lingers in the back of my mind, but slowly boils down to a simmer, melting away as I meet the now genuine smile of Will's and I find myself giving in to the temptation of blissful ignorance. My legs begin carrying me to his side and quickly we start pacing up the hill with matching grins.

He might be able to tempt me with the offer of getting back at Dustin for now, but there's still a thought - a feeling - burning in the back of my mind. Something is definitely up with Will. The problem is, I don't know what and even worse, I don't think he knows either.

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The endless parade of rats dart through the overgrown blades of grass, blending perfectly into the summer breeze passing through their surroundings. An undeniable instinct draws them onward to Brimborne Steel Works as sure as it set their skin ablaze in a horrendous flameless fire that ignited their insides just from their path even mingling with the Y/H, H/C girl who lingered nearby. Even a slight change in direction of the breeze had given them, the hosts, a feeling similar to standing atop a fresh layer of cooling magma that sent them scurrying off their path and was even strong enough to send pins and needles in the heels of their masters previous host.

They don't know their master, of course, or what a master is or why they have blended colonies. All they do know is the unceasing pull in their gut to follow orders. Orders to scavenge the unscavengable, feed on the inedible, and flee, flee... Flee.

And now hundreds of them scurry across the dying grass surrounding the abandoned steel works where they soon disappear inside. The wearhouse floor comes alive as hundreds more file in from every nook and cranny that can possibly be found. Their speed is fast enough to create its own gentle breeze that sweeps away several stray leaves that have collected on the concrete over the years as they head for a single steel stairway.

The enclosed space is soon overflowing with a sea of rats that create a symphony of pitter patter as their tiny feet scuttle down the metal staircase and into the deep lake of shadows that sat under the wearhouse. The only light that found its way down in the depths of Brimborne was the skylight leaking in from the doorway that illuminated the only possible clue to the sudden phenomenon;

Scattered across piles of glistening pink and red jelly were the hundreds of rats that had found their way home. The new home promised to them by the seemingly never ending pull in their gut. But the pull had mysteriously stopped when they reached the basement. But the presence of something dark and sinister remained.

The driving force - the pull - had not vanished but had instead morphed into a warm buzzing that grew intensely worse. It grew hotter and hotter, shaking their small bodies harder and harder as it spread to every cell at unnatural speeds that crippled them. They twitched and squealed in discomfort as they fell to the floor, their last cries for help before erupting into the very goo that they laid in.

The basement was filled with pop after sickening pop as the rats exploded into nothing, all of them and their remains glistening in the single beam of light just outside of the realm of shadows that held the true monster.

This monster that had poisoned Hawkins before. This monster that had spread its rot and death, and inevitable decay with everything it touched. However...

This was not the return of the Shadow Monster.

For the Shadow Monster had never left.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · All links are provided in the comments might not be accessible via the app BUT should work on the mobile website and desktop website. Please use them. Possible Warnings to black readers, and any other readers of color who might be triggered I have included several petitions to save POC facing the death penalty. However, first, here is the masterlist of black mental health resources if you need them. I've posted it many times but mental health is so important, and getting treated properly by people who truly understand you and your experiences can make all the difference, im sure. All my love 💓

Black Mental Health Carrd



[picture text id: there are other people on death row who can still be saved, petitions below]

Below is a link to @ SUNSETSAPPHICS twitter thread from the picture up above filled with several links that each take only a couple seconds to sign each, that i strongly urge - that I ask you to sign. You could potentially save a life. Please sign, spread the word anywhere and everywhere, tag people on your message board, tag people here, make a chapter about somewhere, idc just let your voices be heard and make a difference in these people's lives! Save. A life! It has happened before and we can do it again!

[link]

Petition to Abolish the Death Penalty

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa   @ @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @missmulti @youpi-chan @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes ​ @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @mirdall @fishswimbetterunderwater @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl @nightbu-g ​ @lozzybowe @bluechildrenlickmytoes

[wavesmp3]

eye choose number 13 + anyone you want! i tried to choose the driest one mwhahahhahahahahhahahahahahhahahahahahhahahahahahhaagaga

[breaking the rules]  13. the first glass of fresh water - sangyeon (the boyz) x reader - dystopian au | wc. 1.3k - a/n: hehe choco i’m actually really glad you chose this prompt for the reason you did, it sort of became a challenge for myself like how much can i twist the prompt into something wild and tbh i had wayyy too many ideas for what this could be, but the one I went with is set in the same world and loosely related to “you hide; i’ll seek”

—

sangyeon is a rule follower. 

so when someone above his pay grade tells him to give you, the capital’s most recent prisoner and alleged arson of the embassy building, a glass of water and nothing else, he does exactly that. of course it doesn’t help that you down the glass too fast, too eagerly. as if it’s the first glass of fresh water you’ve had in years. it doesn’t help that you hold the empty glass upside above your mouth, waiting for even the very last drop to fall in. and it certainly doesn’t help that you meet his eyes from across the cell, hold out the dry glass, and whisper, “please. one more.” 

sangyeon is a rule follower. even when every ounce of his consciousness tells him not to be one. 

—

sangyeon learns pretty quickly that you’ll probably never grow to like him. 

he figures that when you refuse to get up as he brings you food for the third day in a row, it’s probably better that you’re ignoring him completely rather than screaming in his face or throwing glass at his feet like some have done before. 

and there’s one particular morning where you must be too hungry to wait, that you meet him by the door of the cell as he slides the tray towards you. 

“the least they could do,” you mutter scornfully reaching for the glass of water first, “is give us some good food.” 

sangyeon doesn’t say anything in the moment, isn’t even sure you wanted him to hear. and yet despite that, he finds himself sneaking some of the guard food onto your tray before handing you your next meal. 

—

“you know there’s this saying,” you murmur one day when sangyeon comes to deliver you a meal and a glass of water as he’s told to do, “down in the basing district. people say that if you end up at the peaks, you’re as good as dead.” 

sangyeon had heard the lanier prisons called that before. he assumes the name comes from the mountain range surrounding it. a prison in between the peaks. but he’s less surprised by the name you call his dreaded place of work, and more surprised by the fact that you’ve even spoken to him with what sounds like a little less venom than before. 

“are you from there?” he asks swiping his id tag against the scanner to open the tray slot of your cell door. “the basing district?” 

“yeah.” you return, standing up from the corner of the cell. you reach for the water first. “just one glass?” 

you down the entire drink before he can even respond. “it’s the rule.” and after a moment of your blank stare taunting him further, he adds: “not really my call to make.” 

“and so what? you just blindly follow every rule you’re told?” 

“well, no i-“ he stops himself. suddenly noticing something different about your hair. between the cell bars, just barely, sangyeon can see that you’ve made the effort to style it today. “yeah.” he finally responds. “i guess i do.” 

you laugh, a low sound that reminds sangyeon of spite more than anything else. you grab the tray from the slot, and walk back to your corner muttering, “must make for an easy, privileged life then.” 

and with the way you say it, sangyeon can’t say for sure he knows what you mean. 

—

“i had this friend back in basing,” you tell sangyeon on his break as he pours you a second glass of water, “who made the best cookies and tea.”

he hands you a cracker and takes one for himself. “what’s his name?”

“if i told you i’d have to kill you?”

sangyeon stops mid-bite, sits back slightly, and stares at you staring at him gravely. for a second, he’d forgotten that you’re technically a prisoner. “oh.”

your face suddenly crumbles in laughter. “i’m kidding. his name was jacob.” 

“was?” 

sangyeon’s never heard a laugh die so quickly. 

—

walking you to your daily interrogations is one of sangyeon’s newer responsibilities. it’s a job he’s done before, definitely not one he’s fond of. but for some reason, making the walk from the cells to the interrogation rooms, feels inexplicably foreign when he does it with you.

sangyeon’s been told time and time again to never initiate conversation with the prisoners, and yet today he almost doesn’t resist the urge to ask how you feel. luckily, you start talking before sangyeon can break one of his rules. “these interrogations are pointless really.” you mutter, and as impossible as it seems, he thinks you sound a little bit sad. he frowns. “it’s always the same questions.”

you reach the door to the room before sangyeon can make out a response. 

the interrogation rooms are small. tiny really. with four black walls, a small table in the middle, two plastic chairs, and a two-way mirror on the farthest wall. usually, after dropping the prisoners off, sangyeon leaves from this wing of the lanier prisons, scurries away from his least favorite part of the peaks as fast as he can. but today, sangyeon finds himself seated alone on the other side of the two-way mirror, watching you fiddle uncomfortably in between your handcuffs. you both wait for the interrogator to come. 

she does eventually, and she looks exhausted more than anything. she follows the rules, almost as precisely as sangyeon does, first hooking you up to the lie-detector, test-running the signals, and finally starting the recorder before having said a single word. 

“okay,” she gruffs, flipping a page in her binder, “let’s just get this over with.”

the interrogation goes faster than sangyeon had imagined it would. he finds himself thinking back to what you had said before entering the room, about the questions being the same, and realizes that you were telling the truth. sangyeon feels like a spectator to a dance of some sort, like he’s watching you both run through a routine that you’ve been practicing for too long. 

“your id number?” she asks. 

“319507.” the machine flashes green. 

“your name?” 

“don’t have one.” red. 

“are you from the mei district?” 

no, sangyeon thinks to himself remembering the conversation you once shared. 

“you mean the wastes?” you scoff. 

the interrogator sighs. “are you from the mei district, also known as the wastes?”

“yes.” green. 

“do you know someone by the name of yoon jeonghan?”

“no.” red.

“were you ever in contact with joshua hong?”

“no.” green.

“is jacob bae dead.”

“no.” red.

“have you ever heard of the Resistance?”

“yes.” red. 

“are you a member of the Resistance?”

“maybe?” 

“are you a member of the Resistance? yes or no?”

“yes.” green.

“did you know they had plans to infiltrate the lanier prisons?”

“yes.” red.

“did you know they had plans to set fire to the embassy building in the basing district?”

“no.” green.

“did you set fire to the embassy building?”

you falter at that. pausing for the first time since beginning. hesitating for what the interrogator must think is a second too long. suddenly, you look up, eyes glazed over as if watching your reflection in the two-way mirror. it just so happens that your eyes find sangyeon. 

finally, you answer: “no.” 

and with the way you say it, sangyeon knows it’s the truth 

(the machine flashes red.) 

—

it’s a few days after that particular interrogation that sangyeon has the guts to ask. 

“did you do it?” he begins timidly.

“do what?”

“burn the embassy building?” 

he meets your eyes, and for a while you don’t answer, you just stare back. 

finally, taking a sip from your glass of water, you say to sangyeon, “i think you already know.”

sangyeon takes a sip from his own glass, and somehow, it feels like the first. 

you’re right, about a lot of things really, but concerning this, specifically, you’re right: sangyeon does know. he also knows that he’s a rule follower. except that when he finds himself sneaking back towards your cell after his shift with a stolen set of keys and an id tag that doesn’t belong to him, he supposes he hasn’t been much of a rule follower since the day he met you. 

[elsanna-shenanigans]

April Contest Submission #26: Captain's Holiday

Words: ca. 1500 Setting: Star Trek AU (TNG Era) Lemon: no, but there are a few sexual jokes CW: none

 xXx

The idea of a vacation had never really crossed Elsa’s mind for most of her Starfleet career. While she often had her ways of amusing herself like her holoprograms recreating historical locations from various alien worlds, not to mention a Klingon martial arts program that an old academy friend had lent her, she’d never taken a full-on vacation before.

Whenever the topic of shore leave had come up and most other officers went on vacation or visited a nearby space station for their relaxation, Elsa usually went home to the Vulcan colony where her grandparents lived and where she was raised after her parents had died.

But for whatever reason, Elsa now found herself laid back on a deck chair on a beach on the beautiful planet known as Risa.

Anna had been the one to coax her into it. They both had shore leave coming up and this was the first one they’d been on since they’d gotten together. It was Anna’s way of trying to get Elsa to have some actual fun, instead of being glued to the captain’s chair most of the time.

Elsa tried to remain still on the deck chair… but she just wasn’t feeling it. She just couldn’t find a way to relax. The sound of the waves nearby crashing against the shore, the sounds of other vacationers laughing and talking in the distance… It was hard to focus.

“Ugh, this isn’t helping,” Elsa groaned.

Anna, who was on a deck chair next to her, pulled down her sunglasses. “Come on, we’ve only been here on this beach for half an hour. Just give it time to clear your thoughts.”

“I can’t focus here, Anna,” Elsa responded. “This isn’t like the holodeck where I can have everything under my control.” She sighed, knowing she didn’t want to be angry at Anna. Anna had done this partly for her, the last thing she wanted was to ruin this vacation. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’ve never had a vacation like this,” Anna told her. “It just takes some getting used to.”

Elsa sighed. “I’m gonna read.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a datapad. Holding it in her hand, she began to read the text upon it.

Anna narrowed her eyes at Elsa. A quick telepathic scan of her girlfriend’s mind told her that it wasn’t a steamy romance novel that Elsa was reading. “Elsa, what is that?”

“Uhhhh… just a book?” Elsa spoke, blushing sheepishly.

Reaching over, Anna grabbed the pad from Elsa and looked at it. “This is the mission report Kristoff sent us last night!”

“It might have been important!”

“You’re here to relax, not stress yourself out with work!” Anna argued. “By the deities, you are impossible.”

“I’m sorry,” Elsa apologised. “Work helps me focus and I feel relaxed.”

“Yes, but that kinda defeats the point of going on vacation in the first place, doesn’t it?” Anna remarked.

Elsa sighed, taking the pad from Anna and deleting the report from it. “Alright, I promise you, I won’t be trying to sneak any more work into this vacation and you’re more than welcome to telepathically scan me to make sure I’m keeping to that.”

“Nah, you know I’m not fond of doing that to you,” Anna argued. “But… I appreciate it.” She leaned over and kissed Elsa on the cheek.

Elsa smiled, looking out on the vast ocean before them, the twin suns of Risa making the ocean sparkle before her eyes. It looked so perfect, but while the view was lovely, it had nothing on how beautiful Anna was. Her freckles practically glowed in the sunlight.

“The weather is lovely,” Elsa admitted.

“It’s like this every day here,” Anna remarked. “I remember when I first saw those two suns in the sky.”

Elsa raised her eyebrow. “You’ve been here before?”

“Oh, plenty of times!” Anna replied. “My moms came here when I was a kid all the time. It was the first time I’d been off-world. I built sandcastles with my two older brothers right over…. there.” she pointed to a patch of sand close to the water. “Or was it over there…. all the beaches here kinda look the same.”

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun as a kid,” Elsa admitted.

“And I guess growing up with Vulcans wasn’t entirely full of joy?” Anna assumed.

“Well, I wasn’t entirely bored,” Elsa remarked. “I remember I used to go up into the mountains with my grandfather. There was this peak where you could see the entire colony.” She sighed, feeling relaxed. “I spent so many afternoons there.”

Anna chuckled. “I bet you were cute as a kid.”

Smiling, Elsa reflected on her childhood, glad that she had someone to share such memories with. It honestly took her a lot to open up to people and felt glad to have someone like Anna. Just then, Elsa felt a slight burning sensation on her skin.

“Hmmm, I think I need another dose of sunscreen,” Elsa admitted. “Typical binary suns.”

“Want me to get it for you?” Anna wondered.

“No, I got it,” Elsa replied, reaching into her bag. As she looked in the bag next to her, she saw the small statue that Anna had bought for her that morning, an item quite popular with the locals. It was a small brown statue that depicted a deity in Risan mythology.

Elsa picked up the statue, holding it in her hands. “I don’t know why you bought me this… Horgun was it?”

“Horga'hn,” Anna corrected her. “And I thought you’d like it! You could display it with all those other artifacts you have in your quarters.”

“Yes, but those artifacts were ancient and from civilisations long since extinct. Some of them are virtually priceless…. you can buy these at the resort’s gift shop.”

“Think of it as a souvenir of your trip,” Anna replied, gently kissing Elsa on the cheek again.

Elsa blushed softly, before going into the bag again and pulling out the sunscreen. As she applied it to herself, however, she heard someone clear their throat beside her and Anna. “Excuse me?”

Looking over, Elsa could see a young brunette woman wearing a rather revealing uniform standing next to them. Judging from the familiar symbol on her forehead, she was one of the planet’s natives. She had rather dark skin and wore her hair long, a smile on her face. However, Elsa just groaned internally.

Not another one, Elsa remarked. I swear that’s the fifth Risian woman today who’s come up to me

“Yes, can I help you?” Elsa asked.

The woman walked over to Elsa, her dark skin shimmering in the glow of the sun. “My name is Maren. I’m employed here at the resort. Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?”

“Oh uh, no thank you,” Elsa responded politely.

“Are you sure?” Maren inquired further. “I couldn’t perhaps offer you a massage of some kind?”

“No, my girlfriend and I merely wish to be left alone,” Elsa responded.

“How very odd,” Maren noted. “You say you want to be alone… yet I can’t help but notice that Horga'hn sticking out of your bag.”

Elsa raised her eyebrow. “Why? What’s so important about that? I thought it was just a souvenir.”

Maren chuckled. “This is your first time being here isn’t it?”

“Uh yes?” Elsa answered. “Look, what’s going on here? Is this why like five Risian women, including yourself, have come to me asking for help?”

“Yes, you see, the Horga'hn is our fertility and sexuality symbol,” Maren explained. “To own one is to call forth its power. To display it is to announce you are seeking Jamaharon.”

Anna then giggled and Elsa then realised what exactly was going on here.

“Jamaha…” Elsa shook her head. “Yes, I see, I get it.”

“Are you seeking Jamaharon?”

“No, no, I am not. I did know about it until you told me just now,” Elsa replied.

“Ahhhh I see,” Maren accepted. “Well, since you are not, I’d recommend leaving your Horga'hn in your room. I wouldn’t want things to be awkward for you.” She smiled. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day!”

As Maren left, Elsa glared over at Anna who was beside herself with laughter. Oh, this was quite a trick that Anna had played on her, that was to be sure.

“And what is so funny?” Elsa asked sarcastically.

“The look on your face!” Anna laughed, almost falling off her deck chair. “It was just priceless!”

Elsa smirked. “Oh really? Well, I hope you’ve had your last laugh because I have a Vulcan nerve pinch with your name on it.”

Her girlfriend giggled nervously. “Now, Elsa, let’s not take this too far. I just thought that maybe you’d like to live a little. Did I ever tell you that Risan’s find pointy ears really hot?”

“I’ll have you court-martialed for this,” Elsa said with a sickly smile.

Anna gulped. “Oh boy.” And then in a panic, she started running down the beach, Elsa chasing after her.

“I’m sorry!” Anna cried, giggling.

“Anna!” Elsa shouted, also laughing. “Get back here! I’m not done with you!”

[lis-likes-fics]

English, Please

Part 6: Exhaustion and Enegry Drinks? Your Favorite! Can’t Say The Same For Elijah...

~~~

You were a little cranky. You hadn't gotten as much sleep as you intended to get the night before because you were studying for a test and almost pulled an all-nighter.

So here you were, running on only half an hour of sleep.

Little did you know, Elijah had the same situation as you, except he was up all night grading papers and preparing a test for the week.

All of your teachers picked up on your prickly behavior quickly. You were usually really kind and respectful, but you were a little snappy toward everyone.

"Hey, Y/N/N!" Caroline greeted happily when she got up to you in the hall, about to head to your third period.

You growled, "What, Caroline?"

She made a face, "Jeez, just saying hi. What's wrong with you?"

You rubbed your temples, "I'm fine. Tired."

"I can see that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hey, Y/L/N, what's got your panties in a twist?" Damon asked as he came up beside the both of you.

You had to keep yourself from snapping at him. Literally. You were not doing so well.

"Tired. Do something and I'll bite you," you threatened full-heartedly.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, digging in his bag. He gave you an energy drink and told you, "Take this, or you'll end up getting detention with one of the teachers."

Detention with Elijah wouldn't be so bad...

But you really needed a mood lift and a little more energy could give you that. You sighed and drank from the bottle, thanking Damon.

"This is alcohol, is it?" You asked him, lifting a brow.

He rolled his eyes again, "I'm trying to keep you from detention, not throw you in a suspension. Have a little faith."

You rolled your eyes at the Salvatore Brother and got to Klaus's class with Caroline.

-

You were in a better mood by the time the class ended and were ready to go see Elijah. You couldn't wait.

Oh, a side effect of energy drinks that you tend to have? You got...testy. How you loved to challenge and antagonize people.

You couldn't wait to see how Elijah would fair against you.

So you walked into French class, getting through the door. Usually, you were the first person in so you could steal a kiss, but today you were next to last. Already off to a good start.

Elijah looked up at you when you walked through the door with no one in particular, that very small, very silent smirk on your face.

He narrowed his eyes which followed you halfway to your seat. He cleared his throat and started teaching.

You tapped Stefan's shoulder in front of you, whispering a little, "I'm bored."

He furrowed his brow, "Ceci est votre classe préférée. C'est le cours préféré de tout le monde. Comment tu t'ennuies? (This is your favorite class. It's everyone's favorite class. How are you bored?)"

You shrugged, "Just am. The teacher's no fun."

Stefan rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, "Concentrer, Y/N. (Focus.)"

You let out a huff and Elijah turned around, a hand on his desk and his ruler in hand. He only used the thing to point at the board or screen when he was using it.

"Y a-t-il quelque chose que vous aimeriez partager avec tout le monde? (Is there something you would like to share with everyone?)" He asked sternly.

Stefan shook his head, "Non, Professeur. (No, Professor.)"

"Êtes-vous sûr? Je suis sûr que j'ai entendu l'anglais. (Are you sure? I'm sure I've heard English.)" Elijah raised a brow, looking to you for an explanation.

You concealed your smile and shrugged, "Non, Monsieur."

He narrowed his eyes at you before turning back to the board. You muttered, "That's 'cause you speak it, dumbass."

"Y/N!" Stefan whisper-shouted.

"Y a-t-il autre chose? (Is there something else?)" Elijah asked, his voice more firm than before.

"Non, Professeur," you told him. He eyed you again and you crossed your legs from one side to the other. He licked his bottom lip between his teeth and you had to keep yourself from smiling at the effect you had on him.

He turned back to the board once again.

You sat in your seat, not paying much attention. You already knew what he was teaching, you got a sneak peak at his lessons last time you were with him.

In fact, he let you do it after he'd finished putting it together. The only reason it was more challenging for you than for everyone else was because he had you do the work while he fucked you, having you read it out loud as you did your work.

That was a fun night...

You tapped your fingers on the desk quietly and thought for a moment. You smiled and grabbed a piece of paper from your bag,

You scribbled a note on it and passed it to Stefan. 'Don't his hands look so hot? Mm, those hands...'

Stefan's eyes widened very slightly and scribbled on another piece of paper, throwing it over to you. 'Y/N, he's your teacher.'

You rolled your eyes. 'I can still fantasize. Besides, we're seniors. I'm out by the end of the year.'

'What are you saying?' He scribbled back.

'I can fantasize about those hands, that's what I'm saying. Those big, perfect, beautiful hands.'

Stefan sighed heavily, 'Y/N! Behave!'

'I'm just saying. He's hot. Just attractive.'

Stefan shook his head and went back to his work, not responding so he could use the last few minutes to do his work.

The class came to an end and Elijah announced, "Au revoir, classe. (Goodbye, class.)"

Everyone got up, packing as they got ready to leave the class. He added, "À part toi, M. Salvatore et Ms. Y/L/N. (Except for you, Mr. Salvatore and Ms. Y/L/N.)"

You almost smirked. Stefan spoke up, "Oui, Professeur Mikaelson." He put the pieces of papers in his bag and went to zip it up.

Elijah shook his head, "Avec les notes, s'il vous plaît. (With the notes, please.)" He didn't turn around as he said this.

Stefan shot you a look and everyone left the class, giggling and murmuring about your "misfortune".

You both went to the front of the classroom, standing in front of his desk. Elijah held his hand out for the notes and Stefan handed it over reluctantly.

"Vous avez une détention, Y/N. (You have detention, Y/N.)" Elijah told you not yet reading the notes. "Merci, M. Salvatore. Vous pouvez partir. (Thank you, Mr. Salvatore. You can leave.)" He said this as he sat down in his seat.

"Quoi? (What?)" You questioned, feigning surprise. Stefan nodded and left the room, shrugging at you as he left. You mouthed "traitor" at him as he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

You turned back to Elijah, smirking a little. He looked up at you and cocked a brow, taking in a breath.

You folded your hands behind your back, rocking back and forth on your feet. You looked over his desk to see the notes, scanning over them as you told him, "Vous trouverez les notes familières. Après tout, je te l'ai déjà dit... (You will find the note familiar. After all, I already told you...)"

"You're going to make me say it?" He asked.

You questioned, "Dire quoi? (Say what?)"

He sighed, "English, please."

"As you wish. I still have a class after this, you know," you told him, quirking a brow.

He spoke as he peaked at you over the notes, "Actually, you have lunch and then you have Kol. You'll be fine."

He began reading the note, drowning the room is silence. His brows shot up as he read it, clearly amused by the notes.

"That's was a little dangerous of you, dear," he told you as he tore the pages and threw them away.

"Maybe I'm feeling a little dangerous today," you told him, licking your bottom lip into your mouth.

He let out a rather aroused sigh and said, "What's gotten into you today? You were talking in class, passing notes. Are you looking you be punished?"

You leaned forward a little, teasingly, "Maybe I am, sir."

Elijah stared at you, his eyes falling to your lips. You were so out of character, but he still loved every bit of it. Oh, you would have to be punished for your behavior.

He spoke, "Don't his hands look so hot? Mm, those hands..." He was repeated your notes to you. The tone in his voice made you so wet. But you wouldn't cave. If two could play that game, then two would.

You nodded, speaking in the most seductive tone you could muster, "Those hands... Those big, perfect, beautiful hands."

You closed your eyes, imagining them inside of you, giving a light moan as you bit your bottom lip. You could tell by the way he sighed and shifted in his chair that you were winning.

You should be sleep deprived more often...

He lifted his hands, setting his elbows on the table. He showed them off, looking at them as he turned them around so you had a good view of them. He asked, "These hands? The ones you love to feel inside of you. The ones you've sucked and fucked?"

You almost lost it then. His tone was so perfect and his hands moving the way they were were making you uncomfortably desperate.

But you wouldn't break.

You swallowed your moan and nodded, "Yes, those very ones. The ones you slide in and out of me, and it's always easy to because I'm always so wet for you. How I love those hands."

You were back on top again because he closed his eyes, no doubt imagining your slick wetness. He loved imagining you.

He finally stood from his desk, adjusting the cuffs of the already perfect sleeves of his already perfect suit. He was just doing it to get to you again.

And it was working.

He moved closer to you and you had to adjust, now looking up at him instead of down. The height difference made you swallow hard.

He noticed and used it to his advantage, "You love seeing me over you, don't you, my sweet?"

You nodded, "And you love seeing me under, nd over, and beside, and bent over that desk or your knee."

Your wetness was now pooling in your panties, wetting your inner thighs. You shifted slightly, just enough, because Elijah heard the slight sound of that slickness and almost completely lost it. You could see it in his eyes; he was holding on by a thread.

"Oh, my dear. The things you do to me," he spoke, so close to your face now.

You licked your lips, "I accept your surrender."

He chuckled lightly. Now you were also hanging on by a thread.

It was whoever spoke first.

And you almost did.

But he had you.

All you were going to say was 'If you're going to punish me, go ahead.'

But he used your weakness against you, leaning into your ear and telling you in that raspy, deep, seductive tone of his.

"If you want to be my good girl, all you have to do is sit on that desk for me. I'm sure I can find a suitable way to punish you for your misdeeds."

Fuck.

You lost. You weren't even mad.

You let out a shaky breath and used whatever breath was left to moan. You sat on the desk obediently, spreading your legs for him desperately.

He smiled, "I win."

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get over here and fuck me already."

Continue Reading on Wattpad or Ao3.

~~~

Suit and Staglist: @avala-moon​​​ @xxwritemeastoryxx​​​ @melodiclovesong​​​ @thebrotherssalvatore321​​​ @strangerliaa​​​ @njeancastro316​​​ @dumble-daddy​​ @mrs-salvawhore​​ @deviously-innocent​​

[thebluenoteblog]

and i will give you everything | part two

Summary: You met Tyler in a bar and spent the night together. Though you had no idea who he was, just looking at him had your brain screaming ‘run’. Little did you know that first night was just the beginning of a much longer story you would share with him.

Player: Tyler Seguin

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Smut

You woke up slowly, coming to your senses, first realizing that you were in a room that was not your own. Second, realizing that there was a set of arms wrapped tightly around your waist and a face buried between your shoulder blades. You looked down at the offending arms, strong and tattooed. Everything from the night before came flooding back.

Beer and people watching and darts, ping pong and fireball, an almost kiss then an actual kiss. You sighed and stretched out your legs, noticing that you were a little sore. The arms around you tightened and the face between your shoulder blades nuzzled into your back before they loosened again. You glanced over your shoulder to see that Tyler was still sound asleep.

If you wanted to sneak out and call an Uber, now would be the time to do it. However, you didn’t know if you would be able to get out of his arms without waking him up and you didn’t want to get caught sneaking out after he’d asked you to spend the night. You laid your head back on the pillow and sighed, resigning yourself to the awkward morning that you were about to have.

He would wake up any time now, come up with some excuse about why he was busy and then he would take you back to your car and you would never see him again. You decided that maybe that was the best-case scenario.

Again, Tyler shifted behind you. This time he inhaled deeply and made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh. A moment later his head popped up over your shoulder to peak at your face and he startled a bit when he was met with your open eyes. “Morning,” you said quietly. Awkwardly.

He shifted again, scooting away from you and rolling you over onto your back. “Morning,” he said.

You nodded, “I should probably get dressed and head out.”

“What’s the rush?” He asked, his hand toying with the hem of the t-shirt resting on your thighs.  “I don’t have to be anywhere until noon. It’s only nine.”

You blinked at him a few times. This wasn’t what you’d expected at all and when he looked up at you, wide eyed, you could tell that he couldn’t believe that the words had come out of his mouth either. Danger. You pressed your lips together while you thought of how best to respond, his fingers now dancing along the inside of your thigh.

“I don’t know,” you said, “I have some things to do today.”

He looked up at you from where his head rested on the pillow, the side of his index finger rubbing against you. “Are you sure it can’t wait?”

You should say no. You should say that this was life or death and you had to leave right this second. You should jump out of bed, get dressed and run before anything else happened. That being said, you were finding it really hard to say no to him when he was looking up at you with an arm folded under his head and his hair curled around his face. “I guess it can wait a little longer.”

He grinned and stroked his fingers through your folds, “Already wet?” He asked.

You shrugged, “Don’t be so proud of yourself. I was having a pretty nice dream.”

He laughed and slid a finger inside of you. Your lips parted, and you sucked in a breath. He grinned and added another finger, curling them inside of you when you didn’t moan. He got the response he wanted with that action. He pulled the covers back off of you and pushed the t-shirt up over your hips.

You had never put on any underwear the night before and he made quick use of this, continuing to pump his fingers into you as he pushed your legs apart and settled between your thighs. He looked up at you as he lowered his head to your clit and circled it with the tip of his tongue. Your hand flew to his hair, holding his face to you, “Oh, god.”

He hummed in appreciation against you and continued a steady pace with both his fingers and his tongue. You tugged his hair, grinding yourself up into his face and pushing yourself onto his fingers in an effort to get him to speed up. He chuckled and kept the same speed.

Slowly, very, very slowly, he brought you to the edge. You stayed there for a long time, clawing at his hair, begging him to let you cum, “God, Tyler. Please. I’m so close. Please let me cum.”

Finally, he sucked hard on your clit and picked up the pace of his fingers, stroking the spot that made you see stars and you came hard. You pulled his hair, hard. Harder than you probably should have and dug your heals into his back as you arched off the bed.

He stroked you through your orgasm and then pulled his mouth away and his fingers out of you. He brought them to your mouth slid them between your lips. You ran your tongue between his fingers, massaging his fingertips, tasting every bit of yourself and watching his eyes darken even further as you did. When he’d had enough of being teased, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a pop and moved to the nightstand to grab a condom. He pulled his boxers off in a swift motion and they were on the floor in a second.

You watched his muscles flex under his tattoos as he rolled on the condom and shifted back between your legs. Impatiently, he pushed the t-shirt up above your breasts, but paid them no more attention before he was pushing himself inside of you.

You groaned and reached up to grab his forearm, beside your head on the pillow and you hooked your leg around his waist. He pushed himself all the way inside of you then paused and grabbed your leg from around his waist and brought it up on his shoulder. He gripped your other thigh and pushed it flat against the mattress, then started to move.

He hit so deep from this angle that you abandoned your hold on his arm and threw your hands up to his chest, you dug your nails in and he hissed but didn’t stop you. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, they drifted shut and you could feel another orgasm building. You reached down between your bodies to rub your clit and he groaned, “Fuck, that’s hot.”

You peaked your eyes open to see him focused intently on your hand. He leaned back as he fucked you for a better view, effectively ensuring that with every thrust he hit your g-spot perfectly. It was only a few more seconds before you were cuming. “That’s it, come on my cock,” he said, keeping the same steady pace that had sent you over the edge.

When you came down, he dropped his hands on the pillow, leaning over you with his eyes closed and your legs still folded on his shoulders. He fucked into you hard, his rhythm was becoming unsteady and the tips of his cheeks and ears were flushed.

You wanted to reach out and touch them. To see if they were as warm to the touch as they looked. You wanted to brush the sweat slicked hair back off of his forehead. You didn’t though, you just laid there and moaned his name until he dropped his head onto your chest, breathing heavily.

Now he had gotten what he wanted. Now it was time for you to leave.

“Breakfast?” He asked, “We can grub hub it. I think I might have something to cook but that’s a strong maybe.”

You tried your very best to hide your shock. “Breakfast?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” he said, “the meal you eat in the morning. Before you start your day. I’m supposed to eat it. I thought you could join me.”

You furrowed your brows, staring at the ceiling, thankful that his face was still in your tits and he couldn’t see how confused and conflicted you looked. You never should have come here, you knew that. Yet somehow you found yourself saying, “What are you suggesting we order?”

You felt him smile against your skin. It was small, but it was there. Unmistakable. “I’m not set on anything. Whatever you want, I guess.”

“Panera?” You asked, “I’m always down for Panera.”

He groaned into your chest then pushed up off of you, “That’s fine,” he said, “I’m going to go order it. Know what you want?”

You gave him your order and he stood up and headed into the bathroom. You pulled the t-shirt back over your body and attempted to run your fingers through your hair. He came back into the bedroom a couple of minutes later and pulled on his underwear and a pair of sweatpants. “Help yourself to the bathroom,” he said, while looking at the ground with the tips of his cheeks tinged pink he said, “Mouthwash is under the sink.”

“Are you saying my breath smells?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He opened and closed his mouth then managed to say, “What? No, I was just-,”

“I’m joking Tyler,” you said, “thank you.”

He nodded and retreated from the room, pulling the door closed behind him. You shuffled out of bed and pulled the t-shirt over your head. You were sweaty, and you felt gross and there was nothing you wanted more than to take a shower in that moment, but there was no way that you were going to hop into Tyler’s shower. So, you walked around the room collecting your clothes and putting them on, layer by layer. A sock by the closet door, your jeans halfway under the bed, your shirt by the nightstand.

You actually did use the mouthwash under the sink before you headed downstairs, because you already felt gross and anything that would help with that was welcome. You were really wishing that you had carried your larger purse that held a comb, perfume, and lipstick, but you hadn’t so you were kind of up a creek.

You arrived downstairs and made your way into the kitchen where you could hear commotion. “Calm down boys, I said I’m sorry. I’m getting it now. I’ll give you extra. Well, not you Cash. You don’t need any extra.”

You stepped through the archway and saw him setting three bowls on the floor. All three labs attacked their food like they hadn’t been fed in months. “Do you starve the poor guys?” You asked, walking around the roadblock of dogs.

He huffed, “Ha ha. No. I just forgot to feed them last night. Now they’re mad at me.”

“You forgot to feed your kids?” You asked, eying the black lab as he eyed Gerry’s food.

Tyler stuck his foot between them, “No, Cash. You already ate. Go lay down.” Cash looked up at him, stared for a moment like he thought he could win a battle of wills, then gave up and walked away. Tyler shook his head at you, “It isn’t my fault. You distracted me.”

As if you had the ability to distract a guy like him. He’d probably had hundreds of girls in this house. He probably did this every night. This was just another line. He was a smooth talker, you knew the type.

You raised an eyebrow at him and leaned against the island. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I slept really well last night,” he said, then his cheeks and the tips of his ears turned a bright shade of pink. He turned around and headed for the refrigerator.

“You blush a lot for a guy who…” you waved a hand at him which was pointless because he was facing away from you.

He grumbled, “Shut up,” under his breath and asked, “do you want something to drink? I have water and juice.”

“Water is fine. Did they say how long the food would be?”

“Not long. It should be here soon.” He grabbed two bottles of water and tossed one to you. You caught it against your chest and he snorted, “Never played baseball?”

“What part of not a sports person did you miss?” You asked, laughing as you opened the water bottle, “In my defense, I did go to a lot of my brother’s hockey games growing up. Maybe that’s why I never had any interest in professional sports. I had to sit through all my brothers’ games.”

Tyler frowned, “Your brother plays hockey?”

“He played through his college team,” you nodded, “Now he just plays for a rec league.”

Tyler nodded, but he was still frowning, he turned to the dogs, “Come on boys, time to go outside.”

You watched from your spot by the island as Tyler left the room with a train of dogs trailing behind him. You waited at the island for him to come back, but before he did, the doorbell rang, and you saw him walk past the archway toward the front door.

You could hear a brief conversation, “Keep the change.”

“Here’s your food.”

“Thanks, have a good one.”

The door closed, and the nosy, curious part of your brain wondered if he tipped delivery boys as well as he did bartenders or if he only did that after a bit of alcohol. He appeared back in the kitchen and set the bag on the island and began pulling food out. He slid yours over in front of you. “You know, if you call Panera, Panera in St. Louis, people get really offended.” Tyler said before taking a bite of his sandwich.

You looked up at him, “You’ve been to St. Louis?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “A few times.”

You nodded and took a bite yourself, chewing and swallowing before responding, “I’ve never been. Haven’t heard the best things.”

“Not too bad,” he said, “Not my favorite of all the places I get to go.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “What is it that you do again?”

He looked up from his food slowly, you could see the gears in his head turning. “I work in entertainment.”

You nodded hesitantly. There was a part of the story you were missing here. There wasn’t really any point in worrying about it though as you would probably never see him again after this morning. So, what did it matter if he lied to you about what he did for a living? You’d gotten great sex and free food out of the deal. What did it matter to you?

He ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his head and tousling his curls, making them even messier than they were before, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him as he did it. “What do you do?” He asked.

“I’m a physical therapist,” you said. “I just started a new job, I work with mostly veterans.” You took another bite of your sandwich, so you were looking down at the counter and didn’t notice the way his face fell a little when he was given this information.

He didn’t know why he cared, but he did care that he knew for a fact someone like you, who spent her days helping wounded veterans, wasn’t going to want anything to do with him. Not when you found out who he really was. So, his face fell, and he focused on his sandwich for a few minutes.

You stared at him, confused. You hadn’t ever had someone give you the silent treatment over your job before. You usually didn’t tell people the details of where you worked because they would gush about how amazing it was that you were helping people who had served our country, then there was Tyler who was acting like you’d just told him that you had chosen to go be a drug dealer or some other illegal, undesirable career path.

Eventually he said, “That sounds like a really cool job.”

“It’s amazing,” you smiled, “I love it.”

He nodded at you, looking a little less put out now, “It sounds like a good job.”

You finished your food without much more conversation and Tyler cleaned up the trash before heading to the back door to let the dogs in. They ran into the house at full speed. Cash jumped straight onto the couch while Gerry and the brown one grabbed toys and brought them to Tyler’s feet. He laughed and took them, tossing them across the room.

You caught yourself smiling with him. You couldn’t help it. It was cute. He was cute. He clearly loved those dogs so much. They were important to him, he had called them his kids and a part of you wanted to dig deeper, to find out why he was so deeply attached to his dogs. Was he just a dog lover? Was there more? Why did he have three of them if he traveled for work?

You watched as Gerry took off running and jumped over the back of the couch to beat the chocolate lab to Tyler’s feet. “Gerry!” Tyler said, “Bad dog, the couch isn’t a trampoline!”

You laughed, and Tyler looked away from the finger he was pointing at his dog to focus his stare on you, “What’s so funny?”

“They’re actually your kids,” you said.

He grinned, “Told you.”

He turned back to Gerry then pointed to the Chocolate lab who was sitting patiently at his feet, toy dangling from his mouth, “Be more like Marshall.”

You threw your head back laughing, “I can’t take you seriously.”

Tyler was laughing at himself, “Stop laughing, I’m trying to discipline my son.”

“Oh my god,” you said, “I’m going to go get my water, discipline away.” You could still hear him playfully chastising Gerry as you walked into the kitchen and you couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought. Would someone who was a destroyer of hearts buy you breakfast? Would he get you a towel to clean up with? Would he tell you where the mouthwash was?

Maybe none of this mattered at all. But maybe it did.

Maybe there was something here.

Maybe that was why he kept flushing.

Maybe that was why your heartbeat picked up when you turned the corner, water bottle in hand and locked eyes with him as he turned to look over his shoulder. With a smile on his face, dog toy in his hand and hair a mess around his head.

<><><><><><><><>

Tyler pulled up beside your car in the bar parking lot and you turned to look at him, not quite sure how to say goodbye after the night you’d had and the morning you’d shared. You settled on, “This was fun, thank you for breakfast.”

He nodded, staring intently at you but said nothing. You took this as your cue to leave. You reached down and grabbed your purse off the floorboard and put one hand on the door handle, ready to push it open when a hand circled around your wrist. “Wait,” he said.

You turned to face him, not quite sure what to expect. Had you done something wrong? “Yes?” You asked quietly.

He opened and closed his mouth twice then chuckled a little and turned to look out the windshield for a moment before turning back to you. “I… okay… can I get your number?”

Your brows slammed together, though you didn’t mean for them to, and you stuttered out, “Why?”

He laughed and pulled his hand away, shaking his head, “Never mind.”

“No,” you found yourself saying and you swore that it was like some out of body experience. You could hear your brain thinking the exact opposite of the words that your mouth was saying, “I… yeah. Yeah I’d love to give you my number.”

He looked back at you slowly, his cheeks again a little pink as he stretched out his leg to pull his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and handed it to you with a new contact pulled up. You put your information in and handed it back to him. He dropped it in the cup holder and looked back up at you, “Thanks.”

You nodded, “I really just want to see your dog’s again.”

He tried to hide his smile, “They always get the pretty ones.”

It was your turn to turn just a little bit pink as you studied him. You didn’t know what you were looking for. It wasn’t as though you would find his intentions hiding somewhere under his dark eyes or tattooed skin. He was a mystery. If you wanted to go down this road, it was a risk. Was it one you were willing to take? Maybe he would decide not to get ahold of you and all of this worrying would be for nothing. After a long pause, you said, “I should go now. You said you had to be somewhere.”

“You had to be somewhere too,” he said, grinning at you like he knew you were completely full of shit.

You smiled back and pushed the door open. He waited until you were in your car and had waved to him to pull away. As soon as he was gone you pulled your phone out of your purse. Dead. You sighed and dropped it back inside before starting the car and heading home to your apartment.

<><><><><><><><>

“I can’t tell if you’re stupid or you just enjoy pain,” Erin said, “Why can’t you ever find a nice boy in a coffee shop and go on a date? Or, I don’t know, go out with that guy who’s been trying to get your number at work for months?”

You nodded slowly, “Okay, I one hundred percent understand where you’re coming from.”

“Then why do you keep doing this to yourself?” She asked, “You just finally got back out there after what happened with Danny and now you’re giving your number to some guy just like him?” She twisted around facing away from you and toward the sink, turning on the water and grabbing a sponge.

“I know,” you said, “trust me, that was on my mind all night.”

Erin shook her head, “Clearly there were other things on your mind or you wouldn’t be standing in my kitchen telling me this right now.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, “You’re my sister. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“No,” she said, looking over her shoulder at you, “I’m supposed to watch out for you. I’m supposed to make sure that you’re safe and healthy and that you end up with someone who loves you just as much as Max loves me because that’s what you deserve. You aren’t going to get that with some guy who picked you up in a bar and forced you into taking fireball shots.”

“Shot. Fireball shot. Singular. Not plural.”

Erin heaved a heavy sigh and turned back to the sink, “(Y/N), do I need to get Logan involved in this? Because I’m sure he’ll have plenty of words about you dating a guy just like the one he had to-,”

“I don’t want to know,” you cut her off, “and no. Please don’t. I don’t need my brother to know that I hooked up with someone last night.”

Erin nodded, “Then don’t respond when he text’s you. You’re going to get hurt (Y/N). There’s no way this ends well.”

Your shoulders fell as you walked around the island to stand beside your sister. You leaned your head on her shoulder and wrapped your arms around her. “I love you. I know you’re just looking out for me, but I have to make my own mistakes.”

“I let you make this mistake once.” She said quietly, “How many times are you going to make us watch you get hurt?”

You didn’t say anything as you watched her scrub the mornings breakfast out of a pan.

When she was finished with the dishes she turned off the water and wiped her hands on a dish towel. She turned to face you and wrapped her arms around your middle before pulling back and saying, “How about we go out today? Get manicures? I can buy new shoes, you can buy new clothes. It’ll be fun. I’ve just got to warn Max about it before he sees the bank statement.”

You smiled, it had been awhile since you had spent a day out with your sister. A part of you was jealous of her though. Jealous because you wished that you had someone to warn about the bank statements when you went out for a day of shopping. You didn’t though and though you were only twenty-five and there was plenty of time for that, you still found yourself impatient. Maybe that was why you found yourself giving your number to guys like Tyler and Danny.

“Yeah,” you said, “I’m always up for that.”

<><><><><><><>

It was late when you got home. The sun had set hours before and there was a chill in the air as you made your way into your apartment building. You dropped your shopping bags on your couch and headed straight into the bedroom, wasted no time in stripping out of your clothes and sliding into your pajamas.

It had been a long day for a Saturday and you were looking forward to relaxing all day the next day. You already had your whole day planned. You would take a nice long bath in the morning, follow it up with some Netflix, a good book, and end the night with a glass of wine. Just one.

You crawled into bed and pulled the covers over your legs, reached over and placed your phone on the charger. You’d just laid your head on the pillow when you heard the vibration of an incoming text message.

Never one to ignore a message, you reached over and grabbed your phone, pulled it up next to your face and studied it. It was an unknown number.

It’s probably too soon to text you, but I’m about to leave town. Want to go out tomorrow night?

Tyler. It had to be Tyler. Every word your sister had said that morning ran through your head. How this was going to be a repeat of Danny. She didn’t want to watch you get hurt again. She was just trying to look out for you.

For a moment you considered not responding, scared that she was right. Scared that your sister who so far had a one hundred percent track record of calling guys as they were upon first glance would be right about this one too.

Then another image ran through your head.

Tyler, awkwardly handing you a damp washcloth and then retreating to the closet to give you privacy. Tyler, handing you a t-shirt and asking you to stay. Tyler, pulling you back against his chest and holding you against him all night. Tyler, cheeks flushed as he told you that the mouthwash was under the sink. Tyler, accidentally telling you that he’d slept really well the night before while he was holding you. Tyler, saying that you distracted him.

The way your heart picked up when you met his eyes and he smiled.

How could this be like it was with Danny?

How could this possibly end badly?

Not when you made him blush almost every time you looked at him and your heart raced every time he looked at you.

You found yourself typing out a response.

It isn’t too soon at all. I would like that.

He responded quickly.

I’ll pick you up at six. Wear something nice.

[bibliocratic]

soft domestic jonmartin

-

“Jon!” Martin is shouting with his head shoved in the under-stairs closet. Tone deadened to a loud mumble, and he's knocked something heavy over that sounds like the ironing board or the drying rack in his attempt to grab things that he always inconveniently shoves away right at the back.  “You got your raincoat?”

“I won't need it,” comes the low response from the kitchen.

“The weather said it might rain.”

“It'll be fine,” Jon replies, only half listening really, with a willfully misplaced confidence in the weather.

(And it will rain when they get off the train, a spatter of showers that they get caught in, and the coat will be in the suitcase, inaccessible. Martin won't say anything as Jon huddles against him as they share the single umbrella, but the smugness will be in the tone of his voice as he comments on the laden clouds – looks like it might be a proper downpour, Jon, shame the weather man didn't predict anything like this – and Jon will run his hands through his thinning hair already dripping into his face and weather this with the appropriate amount of mild chagrin, knowing Martin will take pity and relent momentarily, fuss over the damp and the cold and Jon's endless ability to catch whatever bug is going round, and bundle him into a cafe to dry off.)

“I'll pack it anyway,” Martin calls back, kicking something else with his foot that sounds like the hoover. “In case.”

Jon sighs, but it is a long-worn gentle sound that did not expect to win this ground. He resumes his task, folding and rolling a weeks worth of their combined shirts, sweaters and trousers neatly and efficiently into their modest suitcase. He is very good at this, packing. Always has been good at finding room for things when he thought nothing else would fit.  It brings him a self-satisfied pride, knowing each thing has its place, that there will be space for more.

(Martin will insist on buying a fridge magnet from the first tacky shop they see on the seafront, a few postcards to send to Basira, Daisy, Georgie and Melanie. Jon will find a way to sneak off as he always does and buy another souvenir spoon to add to his expansive collection, one for every place he's been with Martin, this one with a blue and silver crest adorning the top, and he'll play innocent when Martin comes across it cleaning a month later – I thought I told you I got another one /  Jon, we don't have the room, you're going to have to start putting them in boxes up the loft / I will, fine, I will, tomorrow. )

Tucked subtly at the bottom of the case where Martin won't think to look, Jon's placed two smart dress shirts and matching ties. The dress shirt is the mint coloured one with the little embroidered flourishes on the collar tips, Martin's favourite, the one he always wears when he wants to impress; it's worn at the under-arms a little, the button right at the bottom lost somewhere and Jon knows Martin will look dashing in it. He'll need help with the tie because he always does but that's where Jon comes in. Martin doesn't know Jon's booked a table at a nice restaurant tomorrow, theatre tickets for the early evening, and Jon's giddy in his own way to reveal it like a bouquet of flowers from a magician's sleeve.

(Jon will touch the ring on Martin's right ring finger – with the tenderness of the joints in his hands, the way they sometimes swell in the cold, it's too small to be worn on the traditional place; but then again when has tradition ever really mattered – and Martin will call him soft, and Jon will know Martin is looking at him like that and Jon will not disagree).

“Socks?” he shouts out, wondering if Martin's left the closet yet or if he's found another umpteen things he's thought that they should bring. He has already argued Martin out of bringing an extra book (You won't have time to read it, it'll just take up room), walking boots (It's Dorset, Martin, not the Peak District), and his Polaroid camera (You're already bringing the digital one, and we've only got a few shots left, we should save them for Georgie's birthday party).

“I put them with the boxers. Next to the toaster.”

Jon huffs and moves away from the suitcase spread-eagle on the kitchen table to grab the messy, teetering pile of boxers and socks on the counter-top. He hums off-key and mindless as he brings them back to his workspace, refolding them to stuff them down the sides of the suitcase, smoothing over rucks and bumps, double checking on the ties stuffed into the spare pair of shoes Martin had won the argument for.

A flump in front of him and Martin is dropping things onto his carefully organised packing. Jon frowns, and touches at the wool. They're going to Bournemouth, he thinks with another internal eye-roll, not the Outer Hebrides.

“Really, we won't need all this.”

“Just in case.”

This is Martin's mantra. He's an 'everything-goes' sort of packer. There is a reason Jon is the one responsible for wielding an iron-fisted utilitarian hand over this aspect of the holiday.

Jon runs a hand over the fabric, bobbling in places, darned at the fraying edges of the sleeves. Well-loved and well-washed.

“Another jumper?” he says, ready to dismiss it with another lecture on saving space.

“It's to wear now. It'll be cool all morning, I checked. You'll be cold on the train.”

Jon concedes this battle as to his circulation like he does every time, and does as he's bid, shoving it over his head without complaint. Martin fixes his collar so it sticks out over the neckline, smooths down any hair that's been disrupted, making some comment about that barber down the road doing a nice job with the cut this time, before declaring with a cheeky smirk that 'he'll do'. Jon makes an affected moue, and cups his face, kisses his cheek, making a comment that he'll just have to try harder. These things are routine now. Beloved in their repetition.

“Have you got the tickets?” Martin asks. It's the third time he's checked, but Jon replies with steady patience.

“In the backpack, at the front.”

“Pills? There should be enough. I went to Boots to fill up your prescription this morning.”

“Same place. What about you? You have enough?”

“I've got enough for another week before I have to go back.”

“You taken yours for the journey?”

“I'll see how I go.”

“Martin,” Jon says. Not admonishing but with an echo of his old battle-axe charm he used to possess in his earlier days.  “Come on.” He knows Martin won't have taken any, doesn't like to feel too dependent on them. But travelling is stressful at the best of times, never mind in London, what with the traffic and the noise and the people and the jostling, and the crowds can unsettle him.

Jon's pulling them out of his trouser pocket, a little packet still mostly full, and passing them over.

“They make my mouth dry,” Martin complains, but he goes and fills a glass of water from the tap and dutifully swallows one he pops out of the crackling foil.

“We can buy something nice to drink before we get onboard,” Jon promises, tucking the pills into the front pocket of the backpack next to Jon's.

“You spoil me,” Martin says dryly and Jon feels his face crinkle in a smile. He zips the suitcase shut and gives a little voila.

“Taxi should be here in ten,” he says. “Oh, remind me that we're going to need some more tea bags for when we get back.”

“Jon?”

“Hmm?”

“We're going to need more tea bags for when we get back.”

“Oh hahaha.”

Jon had made a checklist on his phone, mostly to appease Martin, and he hears him running down what's been noted as essential, muttering to himself to clarify – so we've got all the t-shirts, sandals for the beach, you've got the tickets and if not there's the email confirmation, checked the train line websites, all networks running as usual and on time.....

Jon puts his arms around Martin's back as he reads, letting his head rest against him. Martin's used his nice body wash this morning, sandalwood and citrus, the stuff he uses when he thinks the day's going to be a particularly good one. He's put on a little too much aftershave as usual.

“You should have a nap on the train,” he says, interrupting Martin's review. “Heard you moving around all night.”

“Just my leg giving me grief. I got a heat pack, it helped some. I'll be ok,” Martin hums in reply. Jon doesn't respond, but he is quietly confident in the knowledge that once they've found their seats, Martin will drop off like a cliff-edge, and Jon will get to listen to his audiobooks until he has to nudge him awake to say they're nearly there.

(Martin will fall asleep on him, head a solid weight on Jon's shoulder and not even out of London yet, and Jon will thread their hands together before he starts up his current Le Carre book, one headphone dangling out so he can both listen for the stops and to hear the staff with the drinks trolley in advance. Martin will wake up with a jolt and a snuffle and a 'wethereyetJon?' and Jon will say 'Only just passed Southampton' and press a mediocre, still cooling cup of tea into his hand.)

There's a chirp and a brush by Jon's trouser leg.

“Hello you,” he says to the Duchess.

You fed her?” he asks Martin.

There's a hopeful cry that implies that eons have passed since she was last given sustenance.

“She's been fed and she knows it.” Martin replies, sounding as though he is immune to the charms of their cat (he is not), and that he won't be tempted into giving her a few more treats before they leave (he will).

“I've given Tom house keys,” Martin says finally, checking that last one off the list. “He'll pop in tonight to feed her and change the litter tray, make sure no one robs us or anything.”

“All your books,” Jon replies without intonation. “How could they resist?”

Martin makes some snarky comment about how he hopes any hypothetical thief might help Jon slim down his spoon collection, and Jon snorts and gives his back a little headbutt to show he doesn't approve.

“We'll have to get him something to say thanks,” Martin continues, returning to their previous topic. “A stick of rock or something.”

“Hmm,” Jon says and doesn't move away from the heat of Martin's back, his arms still bracketing around Martin's stomach.  He slept badly last night as well. Disturbed by Martin's restlessness and his own unforgiving dreams. Martin stands like a foundation stone before he turns around, the phone set next to the suitcase and fixes the situation to his liking, embracing Jon in a loose hug.

“You tired, love?”

“Hmm.”

“We can have a nap then, when we get to the hotel.”

“We aren't that old,” Jon grumbles, although his heart isn't really in it because honestly, a nap sounds great right about now.

Martin's hair, growing out on the long side now, scratches soft against Jon's face. It is still a vibrant carrot-top in Jon's head. He'll run his hands through springy curls still thick and knotted, or bestow sleep-slow kisses on it, and the recollection of that particular shade has never left him. Martin's hair hasn't been entirely ginger since the Watcher's Crown failed, to believe Martin, or Basira, who has always been entirely honest about the shipwrecks their life in the service of eldritch fear entities made of their youth, but Jon doesn't care. That's the memory he has, no matter how many laugh lines begin to grace and soften Martin's face, how often Martin wonders idly if he should dye his hair, get rid of the white. (He never will). Jon hasn't been able to see the mess of his own hair in a mirror for a long time now, but he doesn't need to know it's lost the war of attrition against the grey.

Two men who both look old before their time. Jon didn't even think they'd get this lucky.

There's a ping from Martin's phone.

“That'll be the taxi,” he says and grabs the suitcase, hefting it down off the table. “You got the tickets?”

“Yes, Martin,” Jon says, a little exasperated, but mostly fond, ever ever so fond. (He will say it like this for the rest of his life).

Jon grabs his stick, folded up and pockets it. Bends down, scratches the cat behind the ears, double-taps his own pockets to check on the theatre tickets.

“Let's go on holiday,” Jon says.

[imaginesnkdorks]

The Ultimatum

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Genre: Angst

Words: 1.9 K

Summary: You seem to have a deathwish... something Levi does not appreciate at all.

         I feel like I could drop dead any minute now. Both my arms and legs are very heavy. Ugh. I think I’ll just stay here….

         “Oi, Y/N.” I felt the tip of a boot nudge me on my face. How rude.

         “Just… leave me here to die…” I said, sneaking a peak at Levi. From my position on the floor, I could barely even see his knees. Great. I felt him grab my hand – no, my arm and help me sit upright.

         “You idiot. I can’t believe after last week you’ll go right back into doing this again.” Uh-oh, it’s the start of a Levi lecture. I finally got on my feet, and if I had the energy I would be whining and complaining. And the moment I finally looked into Levi’s face; I can read the worry clearly. Great. Now I am tired and full of guilt.

         “I know. I’m sorry.” Yes, all I could look at was the floor in shame. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. I started training harder to become less of a burden to Levi – to be able to do more during expeditions. But here we are, two weeks in and Levi had to drag me from the training hall.

         The walk back to our shared room wasn’t pleasant. Levi is being… talkative, which is a lot more unnerving than when he’s silent. He won’t stop talking about how everyone is constipated or how we should have training sessions for cleaning.

         Unceremoniously throwing my boots to a corner of our room, I started undoing my annoying straps. I really should stop training in full uniform.

         “Tsk.” Levi clucked his tongue, putting away my boots properly. And now I have him cleaning after me! Get it together, Y/N! I made sure to set my straps properly aside and put my dirties in our hamper – separating the colored from the whites. The least I could do for Levi is to take care of myself.

         The moment I pulled my sleeping gown on I dropped on the bed. Fighting against everything my body wants me to do, I gestured for Levi to join me in bed. I looked at him just in time to see him taking of his day clothes. Yeah, the sight of his abs woke me up a bit.

         In a huff, he finished changing and sat down on our bed. “What has gotten into you, Y/N? You suddenly upped your training routine – so much so that you look like you’re already half dead.”

         I turned on my back, finally able to look him straight in the eyes. The eyebags under his eyes look a little more prominent. “Nothing. I just think it’s something a soldier like us should do, you know?”

         “When correctly paced and scheduled, yes. But you just… you do it until you’re like this.” He gestured at me, making sure my eyes go where his does – the bruises on my arms and legs that are already darkening like berries. “You stop only when you pass out!”

         I really have nothing to say to that… but the expedition is in two days! I think I should put in more hours, actually. I can’t have a repeat of the last expedition. I can’t just wait for Levi to save my ass. We’re both soldiers for goodness’ sake!

         He sighed for probably the thousandth time today, before lying down beside me. “Just, promise you won’t do anything stupid.” He grabbed my hand, eyes full of affection and worry. My chest felt so tight from it… and maybe from the guilt as I can’t promise him what he wants me to.

---

         “Ugh!” What is up with these titans?! I can’t help but think that they seem a lot stronger than the ones before. I’m sure it’s all just in my head, still, all that training should be helping! But I’m still the same weak, pathetic idiot. Levi’s voice can’t help but ring in my mind, saying I told you so. This is why I should’ve had a better training routine, all this time I just tired myself out. How can I be so reckless?

         “Titans have already taken over the left platoon. Pass this message to the right.”

         “Y/N, you heard the man, pass it on!” My squad leader Mike told me and I obeyed right away. “Nanaba, you fire the flare!”

         The squad to our right is Levi’s Special Operations Squad, accompanied by the squad assigned to wagon duty. Best way to protect the supplies is to have it with the best soldier. I’m still a little bitter I wasn’t hand-picked by Levi… but that’s not important.

         “Message, Captain!” I yelled the moment I got within earshot. “Titans have taken over the left platoon!” Levi nodded, telling Gunther to pass the message and Olou to fire the flare.

         “You look horrible.” Levi said flatly. It hurts, but he’s right. I started to steer my horse back where we came from, but Levi stopped me. “You can stay here. Mike won’t mind.” I can’t do that… he’ll be looking after me again. I have to be able to hold my own! It’s the whole point of the past month’s training. I have to be able to kill titans on my own.

         “I can’t…” Levi already has his signature glare on, and I wasn’t even finished.

         “Y/N…” But it’s my turn to cut him off.

         “I know what you’re trying to do, Levi. You don’t need to look after me. I can take care of myself.”

         “You look like you’re ready to croak.” We stayed silent, almost forgetting the people around us… and the Titans. “I’m serious, Y/N. It’s like you have a death wish! Working yourself to death back at the HQ makes me nervous about what you’d do today.”

         That hit a nerve. I steered my horse away and was making good distance, not before I heard Levi yell something to me though. “Don’t do anything reckless!”

         My squad traveled quite far while I was away. I haven’t caught up with them in minutes. But that’s okay. It’s okay. I can do this. I mean, it’s bad to travel alone here in the titan’s territory but what else can I do?

         However, the telltale shake of the Earth happened. Titans! “No way! Hiya!” There’s no time to dilly dally! I need to catch up to my squad! The blasted titans were making good time.

         “Ah! Help! You there!” Huh? Someone on a horse was riding ahead of the Titans? I’ve been on so many expeditions to know that he’s not gonna make it to me. A titan will be able to grab him way before he reached even thirty feet near me. As for me, I think I’d fare better if I go back to Levi’s squad.

         “Ahhhhhh!” Like I said, that soldier was grabbed by the thirteen-meter class titan behind him. “Help me!” Tsk! The closest titans to us is the one holding him and two small ones – probably around five and seven meters. Oh, what the hell. “Hiya!” I steered my horse towards the titan – deciding to help out my fellow soldier.

         “Okay, just like we practiced.” I tried to stand on my horse, getting my 3DM gear ready. Being in an open field really isn’t ideal. Okay, I can’t stand up straight on my horse at the speed that we’re going. Still, I fired my gear and went for the titan. I didn’t even get passed its waist!

         “Hurry – ack!”

         “I won’t be able to go straight for its nape, so I went for the ankle instead. “Ha!” I was able to sever one, making it stumble. “Come on, get up!” I think the guy’s name is Ivan or something, doesn’t matter. He said something, but my focus is on the titan who’s now very angry at me. It was on its knees. Good. Without much of a running start, I still tried to go for the nape – which is a really bad idea. I felt its hand hold on to me in a single breath. Damn, it’s fast! What to do? “Ahhhh.” Oh yeah, I’m not alone. “A little help here?” I asked before turning to look at Victor something. I don’t really know his name.

         He didn’t answer. He was too busy running up to my horse! That bastard! I wiggled, trying to free myself from the titan’s hand. Yeah, it didn’t work. Not a hundred percent, but I was able to free my left arm. Grabbing a flare, I fired it right on the titan’s face!

         Being dropped didn’t feel good. Ugh. I need to make a move while it’s distracted, which would be difficult since my 3DM gear started malfunctioning. Clearly being squeezed by a titan is not good for both of us.

         Think! I can still use my blades; I just can’t fire my wires. I have to move fast! The Titan is now on its knees and is still rubbing its eyes. I moved and climbed up its leg, making my way to its shoulders. I can’t believe how easy this part is! The neck slicing part was a bit difficult, though. But I did it.

         Then another heavy thump rang around. The other two titans are really close and are already steaming. “What?”

         “I knew you’d do something stupid.”

         “Levi!” Relief and anger bubbled in my chest. Relief that I am still alive mostly because of him. Angry because I am still alive because of him. “I had it handled!”

         “You have no horse and you’re alone. And it looks like your gear isn’t working too.” Levi is definitely mad now. His eyes are burning and I almost wavered. Almost.

         “But I was able to kill that titan. And I wasn’t alone. I saved Alec... or Victor. I don’t know his name. But I saved someone, I’m not the only one that needs saving!”

         “And I still have to save you! I thought…” A deep sigh escaped Levi and for a moment his eyes softened. He looked more broken than angry. Then it was gone and he was cold. “I thought I told you not to do something stupid, as reckless as this?”

         “Why don’t you trust me? I can take care of myself. Levi, I’m a Survey Corps soldier too!” I couldn’t stop the tears, and I know just how much it doesn’t help my argument.

         “I do trust you! I just… I don’t want to lose you Y/N.” That gave me pause. “Has it never occurred to you that I’m doing this more for my sake? I need you to stay safe… for me. But if you insist on dragging yourself to every dangerous situation, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

         “What? What are you talking about Levi? You can’t mean that.” I reached out for his hand, he let me touch him but he’s not responding. He’s just… he looks like he’s given up. More thundering thumps of titans can be felt on the ground, and the unmistakable screams of titans are sounding closer and closer.

         “Eld!” I didn’t notice the rest of Levi’s squad was a few feet from us.

         “Captain?” Eld saluted, coming to us at once.

         “Give Y/N a horse.” Eld moved right away. “We’ll talk later, that is if you stop trying to die.”

         As we make our way to my squad, my mind kept wondering to my conversation with Levi. Guilt sat heavily on my chest. Maybe, I should heed to his ultimatum after all.

Copyright © 2019 by imaginesnkdorks. All rights reserved

[fuskinari]

In The End Chapter 1: Summer Prologue

There seemed to be something stuck in Aziraphale’s throat. As he tried to swallow - hard - a single bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. The sun was hot on his face, and the noise around him, shouts of excitement, faded to a dull roar. His ears were burning bright red. Don’t turn around don’t turn around, please, oh please don’t turn around, were the words racing through Aziraphale’s mind. His eyes were locked onto the back of a stranger’s head several yards in front of him. Standing in a small, grassy field was a line of incoming students, Aziraphale included, waiting to pick up their first semester schedules. Aziraphale silently, fiercely prayed to go unnoticed, that he could just pick up his schedule and go back to his small, private dorm room in peace. And yet, achingly slow, a young man with flaming red hair pushed back by a pair of sunglasses turned around. His odd, golden-yellow eyes widened as they found Aziraphale’s flushed face.

Crowley’s feet froze where he stood, new schedule in hand. Another student behind him pushed past, but Crowley barely noticed. Huh, he thought to himself a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He reached up, and slid his sunglasses back over his eyes. Fancy seeing him here...

Around them, students passed by, oblivious to whatever event was transpiring between these two acquaintances, meeting each other again in the last place they expected to be together. Though they hardly knew each other, the shock of seeing the other’s face was enough to halt their tracks. And despite how infrequently they’d actually spoken, their story began many, many years ago.

----------

It was in Miss Nutter’s first grade class they met. Aziraphale, a shy, wide-eyed, blond babe, and Crowley, a gangly, red-headed mess. They sat relatively close together in the reading circle, but they never spoke. Not until the day a pair of baby birds fell from a playground tree during recess.

It was Crowley who first saw them fall. He ran away, squealing with excitement, looking for worms to feed the small birds. Aziraphale, watching from afar and trying to hide his curiosity, tip-toed over to the birds. They were much too young to be out of the nest, that much he knew. They’re gonna die… he thought, his tummy twisting at the thought. His hands clenched into fists, then opened again, repeating in a pattern of anxiety. He reached up and took off the white baseball cap his parents had given him for his birthday, and gently scooped the baby birds up into it, careful not to touch them with his bare hands.

At this point, one teacher had noticed Aziraphale’s slightly suspicious behavior, and came to intervene, gently taking the cap from him and walking away. Aziraphale did not ask for the hat back.

At the end of the day, as Miss Nutter’s class waited outside for the school bus, Crowley approached Aziraphale for the first time.

“Did you see them?” Crowley asked, his S’s hissing out of the gap where he was missing his two front teeth. “Did you see the baby birds?”

“...yes,” Aziraphale responded, clenching and unclenching his fists. He was very nervous talking to people, especially to someone as loud as Crowley. “I hope they’re okay…”

Crowley shrugged. “I guess they’re fine. I didn’t have a chance to give them my worms though.” Crowley put his hands in his jacket pockets and pulled out two small handfuls of both worms and dirt. “I was gonna give them some lunch! You saw how small they were!” Crowley gestured at Aziraphale, worms and dirt spattering the ground.

“I don’t think they were old enough to eat them anyway,” Aziraphale said, brushing dirt off his white jacket. A raindrop fell, hitting his nose, and making him sneeze.

“Bless you,” Crowley said quickly. “Hey,” he continued, eyes narrowing, “didn’t you wear a hat to school today?”

Aziraphale nodded solemnly, “I put the birds in my cap to keep them safe. I thought I could keep them away from the rowdy kids.”

“Kids like me?”

Aziraphale looked down.

“It’s fine,” Crowley said, looking up at the sky. A large, dark grey cloud had blown over the class, and it was softly raining. A sudden shuffling of nylon fabric startled Crowley. Aziraphale had opened his white umbrella and was looking at Crowley expectantly. Crowley stared back blankly. Aziraphale, the shorter of the two, scooted closer to Crowley, and clumsily lifted the umbrella to cover them both as the rain began to pick up. Crowley sighed.

----------

This is how their relationship continued for many years to come. A shared look, and very, very few words. It wasn’t that they disliked each other, but their differences heartily outweighed their similarities. The next time they spoke directly was on a farm field trip in the fifth grade. Their small, Ohio school district was drastically underfunded, yet the many nearby farms gladly accepted the students for no charge. Aziraphale was quietly admiring a pair of black and white splotched cows who were occupied with a rather enticing patch of clovers when Crowley approached.

“They don’t have very many animals, do they?” he asked, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a pair of round, dark sunglasses, and he wore his red hair long. Aziraphale had noticed it has been a while since it had been cut.

“They have enough, it seems,” Aziraphale pointed out. “They’re getting by just fine.”

Crowley crouched down to watch the cows nibble clovers through the dark wood fence and shrugged. “I just feel like a farm is supposed to have...more.”

Aziraphale nibbled his bottom lip and tucked his hands into his white jacket pockets. He didn't really consider the two of them friends, and the thought of talking to relatively loudpeople still made him anxious. He turned his head to watch three horses gallop through a nearby paddock. The two larger horses were pretty, dark gold and brown with white spots. But the smaller horse, a shining white foal, was what caught Aziraphale’s eyes. Crowley stood up, dusting off the knees of his dark jeans and turned to follow Aziraphale’s gaze. Two farm hands entered the paddock, and began leading the two larger horses through a gate and towards a faded red barn. The foal didn’t seem to notice, and kept trotting around the field, through a large gap in the fence, and wandered farther and farther away.

“Hey!” Crowley shouted, making Aziraphale jump. “Hey, that one is getting away!” Crowley began trying to climb the wooden fence, jumping up and down. Aziraphale balked.

“Stop!” Aziraphale cried. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!” Aziraphale reached to grab the hem of Crowley’s dark jacket, but stopped before he got close enough to latch on. “Crowley, stop! I’m sure they know what they’re doing!”

Crowley jerked his head around to glare at Aziraphale. Aziraphale froze.

“‘Know what they’re doing,’ are you serious?” Crowley hissed. “As if…” He hopped down from the fence and clenched his fists. “Yeah, whatever. I tried… “ Crowley stomped away, leaving Aziraphale by the cows who had ignored the whole ordeal. Aziraphale looked down at the clovers and sighed.

----------

They didn’t speak again until two years later, in the seventh grade, when a fight broke out between two other students. The crowd around the fight was strangely quiet, very different from the other fights Crowley had seen before. He danced around the outskirts of the crowd, trying to sneak a peek. It wasn’t that he was interested in fighting, just interested in whatever captured everyone else’s attention. His foot slipped, and he nearly crashed into one of his classmates; specifically, a certain blond classmate. Crowley swallowed.

“Hey, Aziraphale,” he croaked.

Aziraphale’s head whipped around. “Oh. Well, hello," he said, looking away.

“What’s this all about?” Crowley’s palms burned. He wiped them on his dark jeans and continued, “A fight?”

Aziraphale nodded solemnly. “Yes,” he said quietly, “unfortunately so.”

Crowley peaked around Aziraphale’s head and through a gap in the crowd. He looked away almost instantly.

“Why isn’t anyone, I dunno, stopping this?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale looked back at him, worry shining in his clear blue eyes. He shook his head.

"Well, what started it then?" Crowley asked, leaning closer to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale scooted closer and Crowley's heart beat a little bit faster, "It's hard to say," Aziraphale whispered. "Mostly," he gulped, "people are upset about the kinds of things he's been saying..."

"Wha's that?" Crowley asked.

"Be kind to each other."

----------

It had been almost exactly two years since Aziraphale had spoken to Crowley. It was their Freshman year when their school decided to have a "dance." Or, at the very least, a night where the gymnasium would be decorated with streamers and balloons, and a DJ they hired off the internet would play "cool" songs for the students to dance to. Aziraphale, who rather enjoyed dancing in the privacy of his bedroom, was not exactly looking forward to dancing here. But, he thought, it might be nice to see some people from school in a less formal setting! So he bought his ticket, and that night, arrived at the school right on time.

Aziraphale entered the dark gym and was greeted with flashing lights and thumping, bass-heavy music. Around him, students milled about, chatting in small groups of three or four people. Some brave kids danced in the empty space in the center. The music was much too loud for his personal taste, and the songs that played were not songs he had heard before. He realized quickly that other students had come specifically to socialize with each other. Aziraphale had come simply because he thought it would be a neat thing to do.

"Oh!" Aziraphale couldn't stop the noise from escaping his mouth, eyes on the other side of the gym. He made his way quickly off to one side, towards a table topped with a cheap plastic cover. Aziraphale dodged around a few swaying couples who certainly weren't leaving room for Jesus, and arrived, only a little out of breath, at the table. Aziraphale smiled a big, warm smile.

"Well hello there, Crowley!" Aziraphale beamed, looking down at Crowley who was reclining in a folding chair with his feet propped up on the table. Crowley looked up in surprise, the corners of his mouth turning up. "Do you mind if I take a seat here?" Aziraphale asked, already pulling a chair up next to Crowley and sitting down.

"What're you doin' here?" Crowley asked, pulling his feet off the table and letting his heavy boots clunk to the floor.

Aziraphale smoothed the front of his white button-up shirt and loosened his tartan tie just a little bit. "I'm here," he said, "because I...thought it might be nice."

Crowley nodded at this and rolled an empty soda can across the table. He leaned forward and rested his chin on the table. Aziraphale cleared his throat.

"Might I...tempt you with another soda?" Aziraphale asked as an involuntary blush spread across his cheeks. Crowley laughed.

Aziraphale smiled, grabbed Crowley's empty soda can, and trotted away. Crowley sat up and watched Aziraphale walk away. He shook his head and crossed his arms. What is wrong with him? Crowley asked himself, a smile spreading wider and wider on his face. Aziraphale returned as quickly as he left with two unopened cans of the same soda Crowley had been drinking before. He handed one to Crowley and sat down again.

"Cheers," said Aziraphale, tipping his can gently towards Crowley.

"Cheers," Crowley replied, tapping his can against Aziraphale's.

And they drank their sodas in silence, simply enjoying the company of another person who felt equally out of place in the world.

----------

And now, there Aziraphale stood, red-faced and on the verge of hyperventilation. Oh jeez, he thought, what in heaven's name is wrong with me!? He wiped his palms on the thighs of his pants and retrieved a water bottle from his leather messenger bag. He took a hearty swig and stuffed it back in his bag. Just one boy, he reassured himself. Just one person I talked to once or twice. Doesn't make a difference now. Aziraphale took a semi-confident step forward.

[chwetuan]

Frosty-Turned-Cupid? - Yugyeom

A/N - happy holidays everyone! we’re almost done 12 days of ficmas <3 we’re almost done 2018b oh my go-

A phone call from your mother was never good. They were rare, happening every couple of weeks to check in, maybe tell you about a cousin or two, or mention your brother -- the bare minimum, a parent’s obligation, you mused.

It was cold, as it always was this time of year. With the frost on the windows and the flutter of snow in the air, you couldn’t help but begin to feel the warmth of Christmas cheer bloom in your chest.

Well, you were beginning to get excited. Then, your mother phoned.

A large sigh escaped your lips as you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Okay, I don’t want to sound rude, but Yugyeom is an adult. I shouldn’t have to babysit him.”

“Sweetie, you’re not babysitting him. His mother is just worried. It’s his first Christmas away from home, you know.”

It had seemed that everyone around you had always looked out for Yugyeom. You don’t remember a day in your life that you had not known him, and you were certain that from the day he was born, people looked out for him. From the day he was born, right up until now, weeks after he’s left home.

“I understand that, but it doesn’t mean-“

“No one should be alone on Christmas. Not everyone is emotionally detached as you, honey.”

Her words ripped the warmth out of your chest, replacing it with a halting cold that resembled the ice on the leaves outside.

“Fine,” You breathed out, relenting. “Just send him my address.”

~~~

Toss, turn, repeat. Your mother’s words echoed in your mind until the early hours of the morning. Emotionally detached.

Were you really?

Sure, you’ve spent the last few Christmases cooped up in your apartment, miles away from home, but that didn’t mean you were detached.

Or did it?

You weren’t close to your family. In fact, you jumped at the opportunity to move far away from home. No one looked out for you in the way they looked out for Kim Yugyeom.

Mentions of Yugyeom were bringing up memories that you’d rather forget. Flashbacks of what it was like to live in his shadow. He had always been golden, the bright child, the one who made people laugh and smile. The one who made people forget what it was like to be alone. While he was golden, you were, simply you.

You weren’t special. Not particularly funny, or talented, and surely not half as golden as Yugyeom. And while he made people forget loneliness, you would rather be alone.

You didn’t have to go home for Christmas. Why would you ruin a perfectly good holiday spending it with people who hardly acknowledged you?

You turned Christmas into your own. You enjoyed days spent watching movies, baking treats, drinking eggnog, and decorating. It was your haven. And now, suddenly, you’re expected to share that with Yugyeom.

Even years after high school, you can’t bear the thought of being the person who hurts the golden child.

You weren’t detached, no, not at all.

You were just avoiding everything that reminded you of what it was like to live in someone’s shadow. In his shadow.

~~~

You remember Kim Yugyeom as a toothless six-year-old. He likes hot wheels, the color green, and greasy slices of cheese pizza. You don’t think he likes you very much; he makes it’s obvious when he pulls your hair on the playground and pushes you off the swing set in front of all your friends. Your mother thinks Yugyeom is cute, and scolds you for upsetting him.

You also remember Kim Yugyeom as an abnormally tall ten-year-old. These days, he plays Super Mario on his Nintendo, loves watching Nickelodeon, and still does not like you very much, you believe. He makes it clear when he tells his friends that your braces are ugly and when he begins to call you four eyes. Your father tells you to toughen up. That Yugyeom is just playing, and that you need to not take everything so seriously.

You remember him at thirteen years old, when he joins dance club and quickly becomes the captain. He’s into hip-hop now, and his favorite thing to do is watch YouTube and complain about his parents. He especially complains when you both move to the same middle school, and are forced to walk home together. You don’t like him very much either, and you make it obvious by telling your friends that he’s annoying and that the new transfer is a much better dancer than him. Your mother smiles and records his performance at the talent showcase, and doesn’t bother to record you when you perform with your class.

Then, at 16, things get slightly worse. Yugyeom and you don’t speak, and any contact is met with rolled eyes and scoffs, tensioned silence of childhood anger brought into the peak of your teenage years. When a rumor spreads about you getting caught sneaking cigarettes into school, Yugyeom laughs and calls you an idiot. Similarly, when a rumor spreads about you kissing three of his friends, he laughs and calls you desperate, and doesn’t bother to mention how it makes his stomach churn. He doesn’t bother to ask you if it was true, and watches as the entire class begins to call you nasty names. Your father begins to ask why you don’t hang out with Yugyeom every now and then.

At 18, when you graduate, college acceptance letters in hand, you bid your family farewell as you move to pursue the dream you’ve always had. Yugyeom takes a gap year, working at a dance studio teaching young boys and girls to move just like him, becoming an inspiration. Then, he takes another gap year, working as a backup dancer for a few different idol groups. After that, he takes another, a permanent one, working as a full-time choreographer. College for Yugyeom is out the window, but he sees opportunity in a city far from home, and that’s how he’ll end up on your doorstep, alone, three days before Christmas. Your mother calls and asks you to help Yugyeom.

~~~

Yugyeom didn’t think things would be this awkward.

Sitting at your kitchen island with a cup of hot--not ice, choco in front of him. His heart ached.

“You haven’t been home the past couple of Christmases,” He attempts conversation, eyes glancing up to your face before focusing on the swirl of chocolate before him.

Up until now, your responses have been curt. You’re trying your hardest, you swear you are, but for some reason, the cold phrases leave your mouth before your mind lets you consider otherwise. It’s hard to forget childhood anger.

But this is different. Yugyeom, in his black skinny jeans and hoodie, candy cane sticking out of his pocket, looks hurt.

Sighing, you take a few seconds to sip your drink and decide that ruining Christmas is not worth ruining Yugyeom.

“No, I try to avoid it, honestly.” A pause. Subdued surprise takes over his features-- he’s surprised that you’ve answered with something other than one-liners. “Do you miss it?”

He contemplates your question, eyes beginning to focus more time on your features than the mug in front of him. “Kind of.”

You nod, taking another sip from your drink. “I bet they miss you.”

A small laugh leaves his lips. “Maybe. But I think they might miss you too.” Another beat of silence settles between you. “More than you think,” he adds quietly.

It’s your turn to laugh, in a breathy way that makes Yugyeom’s heart flutter. The way it always has.

For some reason, after that, it’s almost seemed easy to talk to Yugyeom.

~~~

Christmas Eve is much different than the night before, and instead of sitting awkwardly in the kitchen, you and Yugyeom sit comfortably next to each other on your sofa, a space between you.

Some Christmas movie is playing, but you’re hardly paying attention as you and him catch up, sharing tidbits of information and memories from long before.

“Okay,” You start, bringing your knees up to your chest. “Do you remember my 14th birthday party?”

“You mean your terrible excuse of a dinner?” He responds, a nostalgic smile gracing his lips. “Of course, I could never forget it.”

You continue like that for a while, and for the first time, you see what its like to live alongside Yugyeom, and not in his shadow.

At 11:58, his phone goes off, alarm quietly buzzing throughout your living room. “Well, it’s almost Christmas.” He says, standing up and walking over to his backpack. You’re not sure what he’s doing, but you can’t be too concerned as you stretch your arms above your head, eyes squeezing tight in tiredness.

“I guess it is.”

When he returns, there’s a box in his hand - blue wrapping paper with a silver bow. It isn’t huge, but it’s enough to make you perk up with a glint of curiosity in your eyes.

He looks the opposite of everything he’s ever represented in his life. His cheeks are tinged pink with nerves, the blush a hue of setting skies and pink champagne. He holds the box out, uncertainty masking his every action. “For you,”

You take the box, your cheeks mirroring his own. “Yugyeom..” Your voice trails off. This is new.

He plops himself down next to you, puffing his cheeks as a shy smile graces his lips. “I felt wrong not bringing anything. You let me come here, after all.” He says it all as if nothing is a big deal, as if even after all of your childhood differences, you can move forward in life with a new kind of appreciation for each other, as if, for once in your life, you’ll have feelings other than dislike for him. As if it’s no big deal.

Maybe, it isn’t

You consider saying something along the lines of “You shouldn’t have” but the words die in the back of your throat when you see the hopeful look on his face. He is golden.

So instead, you whisper a small thank you, glancing at the clock above your tv. 12:01.

“I didn’t get you anything.” You add, fiddling with the ribbon.

He laughs, a full sound with his head thrown back. “You let me into your home. You fed me. You made sure I wouldn’t have to spend my first Christmas away from home alone. You want to do more?”

You don’t respond, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as an unauthorized smile threatens to take over.

“Can I open it?”

He nods, watching you as you gently tear the paper off of the box, mindful of what could be inside.

Inside the box is something you never expected to see. There’s a picture, of you and Yugyeom. It seems to be from a few ancient Christmases ago, confirmed by the decorated tree and what is clearly your parents living room. His arm is hooked around your waist, a feeling you remember giving you butterflies at the time, as you stare into the camera. You seem to be mid-talking, hand coming up to cover your mouth. But something about the picture makes your heart clench and your stomach twist. Yugyeom isn’t looking at the camera, he’s looking at you. As if you were golden.

Yugyeom is quiet as you view the photo, anxiety settling in his nerves. He doesn’t know how to tell you.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s always had a special place in his heart for you-- one he wishes you’d fill. He doesn’t tell you that back then, he thought you were the most beautiful girl, and how he couldn’t imagine you becoming as beautiful as you are now. He doesn’t know how to tell you he’s sorry-- how he’s sorry for the way he managed to rob you of your own happiness. He doesn’t know how to tell that he wished he could take back every mean thing, or how he wish he could positively deck whoever made you hurt. He doesn’t know how to tell you, so instead, he asks:

“Do you like it?”

You’re trying to battle tears, wishing, praying, and hoping that the wall of your pride will keep them in. No one has ever looked at you like that. If someone took a picture of the current moment, you’d see the exact thing. You think Yugyeom is golden, but he knows that deep down, you are too.

“Yeah,” You respond, voice soft as you place the photo off to the side. It takes a moments decision before you’re closing the space between you, wrapping your arms around him. “Thank you.”

He squeezes you, and it feels as if you’re that 15-year-old girl again. “Merry Christmas,” He mumbles into your shoulder, palm coming down to rest against your back.

“Merry Christmas, Yugyeom.”

10/11

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

Not Too Big

Prompt: You and Bruce have grown extremely close through your time with the avengers till finally he asked you out. You want to take your relationship to the next level but Bruce isn’t so eager.

Pairing: Bruce Banner x reader

You head into the kitchen at the avenger headquarters where you find Steve and Natasha in a deep conversation. Not wanting to bother them you head over to the fridge to get out a bottle of water. As soon as the first drop hits your tongue your original thirst triples. Downing the entire bottle in seconds you sigh in satisfaction.

             Turning you find out that you have an audience. Steve and Natasha have stopped whispering, their eyes trained on you. You stare back with a perplexed look that melts into a soft laugh from nerves. You’ve never been really good at being the center of attention by more than one person at a time. Before now you thought they were used to you being around, and you know you haven’t broken a rule that only avengers can use the refrigerator.

             See you’re not really an avenger. Tony Stark hired you along with a couple dozen agents. Some of them live here but most live off base. Residing here definitely has it’s perks, aside from living in walking distance from your boyfriend. It makes you a first responder to anything the avengers need backup on, and it lets you sleep in an extra half hour before having to get to work.

“What’s up guys?” You try to diffuse the tension. “If it’s the smell or my appearance that’s all thanks to that mandatory workout.”

“We were actually talking about-” Steve starts but looks over at Nat, who finishes. “You. Well, you and Bruce.”

             Your temporarily stunned, you thought they would have made a comment about anything other than your relationship. You never fully understand why people have to involve themselves in other people’s relationships like that. Don’t they have their own lives?

“Have you and Bruce, you know?” Steve looks uncomfortably at his empty plate in front of him. “It just has been oddly quiet, and we wanted to make sure everything is okay. If something affects one of us, it affects all of us.”

“Well we’re fine,” you nod along. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

             Before either of them could say anything else, you shoot them a smile and rush out the door. Not caring where you end up, your mind races with your own insecure thoughts.

It’s not that you don’t want to be with him like that, it’s that he doesn’t seem to. Anytime you try to take things to the next level he pulls away. It doesn’t make any sense, you know he’s overly careful but you thought he wanted you. Now you’re not so sure since everyone else has been noticing it as well.

Perhaps he just needs a bit of encouragement. An idea flickers in your mind and you race towards your bed room to tear through your drawers in search for your black lingerie. You bought them not too long ago, never been used and it might just be what you two need.

After showering, you quickly slip the pieces on and give yourself a once-over in the mirror. Making minor adjustments to your hair with your fingers you also adjust some straps. Slightly getting nervous you fidget with a few minor details of your thin attire before wrapping your deep red robe around your body.

Making your way to Bruce’s room you start to have second thoughts. There has got to be a reason why he hasn’t wanted to sleep with you. You just don’t know what that reason would be.

“Bruce,” you wait for an answer. “It’s (Y/N).”

“Come on in.” His voice faint through the barrier.

             Slowly opening the door you try to get your breathing under control. Pausing you remind yourself that you’ve been dating him for months, you care about each other, and you are sexy as hell.

             The bed comes into view where you find Bruce sprawled out with a book in his hands. His classes perch on the bridge of his nose as his eyes skim across the page, lips slightly ajar. You can tell that he’s done for the day from the red boxers he is lounging in.

             You peel the robe, stopping around your shoulders to highlight your neck. However, Bruce’s attention seems to be heavily train on his book. He repositions his glasses and raises the book closer to his face as if trying to block out any distractions.

             Moving closer you sit at the end of the bed closest to him. You position your legs to lay off to the side, crossing them you hope he notices how bare they are.  In response, Bruce moves slightly to the other end like he’s trying to make room for you, or trying to run away.

             Doing away with the rest of the robe, you seductively drop the fabric on the floor at the end of the bed. Attempting to move closer once more you manage to perch your body next to him. Placing your head on his shoulder your fingers graze up and down his chest.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Bruce rests the book against his lap. “I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

“Then you’d be right.” You whisper into his ear before kissing his tightening jaw bone.

“(Y/N),” he slightly moans.

             Before getting too far, Bruce stops you by getting off the bed. Retreating to the other side of the room you suddenly feel very naked. Wrapping yourself in your once discarded robe you watch Bruce run his fingers through his hair, seemingly at war with himself.

“I’m sorry,” the words come out small and confused. “I should go.”

“No, (Y/N).” Bruce tries to stop you. “Come back to bed.”

             Fighting tears in your eyes, you try to shake your head but you can’t bring yourself to do that. Heading towards the door you feel the weight on you double. He doesn’t want you. Plain and simple.

“I just-” you pause to control your quivering lip. “I just want to be alone right now.”

             Your feet start you into a run that leads you back to your room. Changing into your pajamas you curl into a ball on your bed. Tears stream down your face as you rack up a list of reasons Bruce doesn’t want you.

1)   Not skinny enough

2)   Not pretty enough

3)   Not an avenger

4)   Not special enough

5)   Not enough

****

             The next few days are rough. You try to avoid places you would run into Bruce. Even though headquarters appears to be huge, it is quite small when you are trying to avoid someone. Typically taking refuge in your room you find yourself constantly hungry from skipped meals.

             Not being able to remember the last time you ate, you cave. Leaving your Bruce free zone, you make your way down to the kitchen. Watching every corner, you finally make it to your destination.

             The room is empty except for a folded piece of paper. Growing closer you realize it is addressed to you in nonother than the brilliant scientist’s handwriting. Unsure, you pick up the note while looking around the room for him. Finally unfolding it you read the note:

Meet me on the roof at midnight. Alone.

             Strings pull at your heart arising a small gasp as you reread the note. You wonder how long ago he wrote this. What if you go up there and he’s not there? What if he has been up there waiting for you the past few nights?

             Disregarding your earlier need to eat, you walk back to your room. Never taking your eyes off the letter you sit crisscross on the end of your bed. Warm tears stream down your cheeks as a minor sob escapes you, followed by a couple more you let yourself go.

             Rubbing your already swollen eyes you glace up a the clock hanging on your wall. It reads 11:47 pm. Do you really want to go? Should you go? Your internal thought process fights with itself. If you do not go you will never know what he has to say, but what if you go and he has given up?

             Frustrated at yourself, you head towards your closet and pull out a cream oversized sweater and black leggings. Combing your hair, you pull half of your (Y/H/C) locks into a pony. Next you look at your disheveled-pinked face and attempt to apply some light makeup.

             Once deciding that this is the best you are going to look you set off toward the roof. You’ve only been up there a handful of times, all with Bruce. Guess that makes sense for it to be a meeting area, it’s sort of your place. Up there he genuinely opened up about his fear of the Hulk, it’s where you both said ‘I love you’ for the first time under the stars. So much as happened up there in so little time.

             Opening the door to the outside, you are instantly taken aback. Lights wrap around the troughs that you once planted sunflowers in. Getting closer you can see baby sunflowers barely poking through the surface of the soil. In the center of the floor lays a blanket with two empty wine glasses.

“(Y/N),” a familiar voice comes from behind you.

             Turning immediately, you come face to face with Bruce. His usual curls have been slick back in attempt to appear neat and tidy, but you can see some strands fighting against the gel. Along with that he matches it with your favorite shirt, a blue button down that you love with his eyes. Getting a second glace that’s when you notice the bags under his eyes and the subtle gruff peaking out wanting to form a slight beard.

“I got your note.” You state, not sure what to say. You haven’t felt uneasy around him in a while, you’re so used to feeling so secure in what being around him would entail. But that’s what happens when your relationship is hanging in the balance.

“Yeah I uh, put a sensor in it.” He nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Tony picked it up yesterday, so I had to personalize it to only go off if you touched it.”

“Good thinking on that brain of yours.” A smile forms. “It may have been Tony you’d be sharing a glass of wine with.”

             You two walk side by side, not touching but sneaking little glances at the other. Reaching the blanket you kneel down to take a seat but find that Bruce is still standing, unmoving. Confused you stand back up and attempt to make eye contact, that of which he would not meet.

“I’m sorry about the other night-” he starts.

“Bruce.” You put your hand on his arm but he pulls away.

“Well I am, but I’m not.” He scratches the back of his neck again. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before… and it scares the shit out of me. And not just for the usual reasons that most guys are scared, I’m terrified of the other guy hurting you.”

             You can tell by his voice that he’s serious. After a while he was okay with joking about the other guy, but you know this isn’t a joke. His voice is sullen and his posture defensive. He is truly scared of hurting you, something you never thought about. Bruce has always been so sweet and caring that most of the time you forget about his other half, his stronger half.

“Before I go on I just want you to know that when I picture myself happy… it’s with you. You really mean everything to me (Y/N).” His eyes finally match yours. “But I’ve done terrible things. I have killed so many people, stretched some limb by limb until they pass out from the pain. So let’s say we are together physically and I lose control. (Y/N) I will hurt you, most definitely kill you.”

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” You wrap your arms around him. “Is that what you are trying to do? Scare me?”

             Wrapping his arms around you in response you can feel his need to hold on. Tightening your hold on him you pray that he just lets it all out, every thought, every frustration. You want it to expel from his body. You want him to understand that you’re not going anywhere no matter what.

“Ideally, yes you should be terrified of me.” He sniffles. “But a part of me doesn’t want you to be.”

“Well I’m not.” You pull back to see his tear stricken face. “I’m not going anywhere, and no matter what you say I am not changing my mind.”

             Forcing yourself on your toes, you attempt to kiss Bruce’s forehead but instead find his lips. Soft and hungry, his lips consume yours as he presses your body closer to his. Looping your arms around his neck, your fingers play with the stray hairs untouched by the gel.

             A groan erupts from him through the kiss as he grabs at your thighs. Jumping, you tangle your legs around his torso as your back reaches the door to the outside. His swollen lips now dance along your jaw arising a few moans buried in your throat.

             Then suddenly you are on the ground, alone. Your eyes search for Bruce where he appears on the other side near the ledge. From where you are you can see his shoulders moving up and down as he takes deep breaths. You call out his name but he puts his hand out yielding you to stop.

“I’m sorry.” He croaks, turning around finally.

             Getting up you feel the hit your bottom half took and rub your legs. Trying not to show any pain you make your way over to Bruce. Wrapping your arms around his waist you look up into his eyes.

“We’ll go slow.” You assure him. “It’ll be okay.”

[blairette-on]

Bonds to our Destiny, Chapter 2: “Watching over you”

Time skip, obviously! :p Yeah, as a warning, the first chapters might not be really linked to each other, they « settle » things for the future ones but I'll try to be the more coherent possible! x)

By the way, with the release of season two, I add a little something that can be seen as a minor spoiler, but if you haven't see the pilot, you shouldn't get it, but you're warned! ^^

I know that I'll write it later in other chapters but I prefer to make myself clear now: this fanfic will not follow the RTA canon! I'll stick to the movie and season one plot (with the twist and all that this AU (?) will create) but after SOTSD, I'll use some elements from the season two but not the canon stuff! ^^

I also realize, while reading other fanfic, that some ideas seem to be "canon" (by that, I mean some "theme" are recurrent from fanfic to fanfic, like a Jazz standard, such as the dreams, the powers of the moon, etc,...) Maybe it's not necessary to put this here but I'll do it nonetheless: I don't plagiarize anyone, huh! And nothing belongs to me! The characters and the main story are Disney's property (?)! As the Moon theory belongs to Ghosta-r! ^^

Enjoy! o/

oOoOoOo

Quirin looked at his son's sleeping face with a fond smile as he brushed some of Varian's black locks off his forehead.

At nine years old, Quirin's son was quite a gifted boy, very curious and eager in all new things that captured his attention. At such a young age, he had developed a great interest in science and alchemy, and for his seventh birthday, Quirin bought him some vials and stuff for him to do little experimentations. And after two years, nothing had exploded, yet.

It was a good start.

Outside, the sky was pitch black, only enlighten by the stars as it was the new moon. And as Quirin look aimlessly in the air before him, he let out a sigh, thinking back at the events that happened earlier this day.

The village's children thought of Varian as a sort of weirdo and they did everything in their power to make him felt rejected. Between the very bad pranks and the stupid nicknames, the last one recorded was 'Weird-rian', Varian had reached a certain line that the children should not have crossed, but they had, and the little boy became very, very angry.

The problem lied in the fact that Quirin wasn't aware of all this bullying stuff until one of the bully's parent came to his home with a very upset Varian and their own nose-bleeding boy, explaining that the nine years old one had attacked their 'sweet-little-Steve' without any reasons and that 'he should teach his boy how to act properly in society'.

Quirin had only looked down at his son with a very reproving glare of his own, and before he got the chance to say anything, Varian apologized with a very quiet voice and run straight to his bedroom without looking back. Steve's parents only snorted at the little boy manners and, after several Quirin's apologizes for his son behavior, went to return to their house.

And while he was watching them disappeared in a corner of the village street, he could have sworn that the little Steve had glanced back at him with a victorious gleam in his eyes as a vicious grin was spread across his lips. Quirin had frowned at this and quietly reached Varian's room, peaking a sneak inside, only to see the young boy trying to silently wash what seemed to be a pretty bad cut on his forearm.

His blood had just simply frozen in his veins at the view and Quirin had rushed inside his son's bedroom, to the very much surprise of the younger, to help him healed his wound while asking him what was exactly going on.

And after few silent seconds, Varian had begun to cry, a lot, in his father shoulder, telling him that he was bullied for a few months already by some children of the village, that they tough he was a weirdo because he didn't talk too much or because he spent a lot of time at reading books than playing with them, or because he was a boy too sensible and that it was not normal to be so emotional.

And between the sobs and the mumblings, Varian managed to apologize at least a hundred times to his father.

Quirin had felt hopeless and the only thing he did was drawing circles in his son's back in a soothing way, telling him that he shouldn't apologize for what happened, because it was not his fault, and that he should have come to see him sooner to talk to him about his problems instead of resorting to violence. Varian said nothing at this as he continued to cry in Quirin's shoulder until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. He drifted to sleep in a matter of seconds after that, his breathing becoming deeper and less erratic from his earlier's cries.

Since then, Quirin watched over him, making sure that the cut on his arm was okay. He had palled as he saw all the bruises Varian had on his body and he cursed mentally himself for not having noticed it sooner.

Sighing deeply, he looked at the window and at the moonless sky.

This part of the month was the one where Varian's mood swings were at their top. Not that Varian was a moody child, but he tended to be very emotional when it was the new moon, more restless and nervous than when the Moon was full, periods when he was peaceful and at the top of his abilities, both physical and psychic.

He knew that the natural cycle of the nocturnal body had some effects upon his son, it was expected, knowing Varian's… Abilities. Maybe he should find a stone or something like this that could help him calm his mood swings…

Maybe he should ask him for this…? Yes, maybe he should, he had told Quirin that he could ask him anything if needed after all…

Sighing once more, Quirin stroke once more his son's head, his fingers lingered a little longer upon the streak of blue that colored his black hair before bending over him and pressed a kiss upon Varian's forehead. He heard a sight of delight escaped his son's lips and Quirin realized that maybe, maybe, he should be more expressive toward his son.

He didn't want for him to grow up believing that he always disappointed his father or that Quirin was not proud of him.

Because he already so much was.

oOoOoOo

Those dreams had something very unsettling that made Varian almost restless.

Some weeks had passed since the incident with the children's village, and his father seemed to be more cautious of him and tried to be a little more expressive toward him.

The little boy was very happy that his father tried to be more here for him, he even gave him a gift while it was not his birthday! It was a sort of handmade necklace made with a thin cord on which his father had hooked a little purple-yellow stone, a certain variety of opal, he said but he didn't tell him where he found it, to help him stabilized his emotion and to not get angry as he did last time with Steve. In a certain trick of the light, the stone sometimes appears as if it had a deep blue-silver color instead of the purple one.

Varian had no idea if it really worked, but he was now used to the cold feeling of the opal upon his chest, as he kept the necklace under his shirt to avoid breaking the rope and, yeah, he hadn't had the urge to punch someone nose for quite sometimes now, so he suppose it was okay.

As for the dreams, he hadn't dared to talk about them with his father yet. Because he knew deep down that his worries were unfounded, because it was just dreams, but also because Quirin claimed to be a man of science and Varian only wanted to be just like him when he would be older.

He shouldn't believe in nonsense like magic, and yet… He did because he couldn't avoid thinking about them.

The fact was that the dreams were kind of recurrent, even if not regulars, and it was always the same girl, and Varian felt it in his guts that something was wrong with them.

Well, not 'wrong' in a bad way, but rather because they did not seem to be just simple dreams. But no matter how hard he tried to give them a logical explanation, he always faced a dead-end in his researches.

Looking down to his notebook, the young by rereading the few pieces of information he had about them :

1) They are not regular and do not seem to follow a certain schedule, I can have them for twenty nights straight and then not having a single one for almost three months.

2) It's always the same girl who appears in them, it appears that she is older than me

3) They happen always in the same nowhere-place.

4) I can't remember her face, no matter how many times I saw her.

5) I can't hear her name too.

6) It seems that she had the same problems

Well, he thought, It's a beginning to work with…!

He drew a long sight as he leaned back in his chair. Who was he fooling? It was pointless! It had been almost six years since the first dream had occurred and no matter how hard he tried to understand them, those dreams seemed to keep their secrets under lock and except for the obvious, he had literally nothing to work on.

(And yes, maybe sometimes Varian forget that he was still a child)

Upside, he heard his father walked into the living room. Stretching a bit, he stood up, put the notebook in a hidden drawer of his desk then shook off the numbness in his limbs before climbing up the stairs to join Quirin on the ground floor.

As always, they will share a father/son moment while watching the lanterns that royal family launched for their lost little girl's birthday each year. Varian felt sad for them, as they were good friends of his father, and that he gets the chance to meet them a few times. They were very nice people, and they certainly didn't deserve what had happened to them all those years back.

"Varian? Are you coming?"

"I'm right here Dad," he said as we walked toward the big figure of his father. The older held two unlighted lanterns in one hand as he stretched the second one toward his son.

"Ready?"

"More than ever " responded Varian with a small smile, slipping his hand in his father's bigger one, and on that, they were on their way to the Capital.

As always, the festivities at the center of Corona were magnificent, with all the music and dances, and Varian enjoyed all that the Capital had to offer with his father as he hadn't spent a lot of time with him for a few weeks already.

Quirin seemed a little… Off, but he did his best to not show his feelings to Varian and the little nine-almost-ten-years-old didn't mind very much.

The launch of the flying lanterns was gorgeous to see, no matter how many times he already had the chance to watch it. But as Varian and his father were on their way back to Old Corona, a little part of his mind wished to he would have been able to take a little bit of the view with him in a part of his head to show it the Girl of his dreams later, as she longed to see them in real one day.

'It's my dream !' she had said one night, as it seemed that her own birthday coincided with the event. He had asked her why she didn't ask her Mother to take her to the festival as a birthday gift one year. The Girl had only sighed and said that she tries, once, to imply the idea that maybe she would like the go to see them and that her Mother answer was a categoric 'no'. He had asked her why and, as always, she said that she couldn't tell him the reason.

Maybe he should work on this problem to solve instead of trying to understand the origins of the dreams?

He decided that he'll think of it later. A yawn escaped his lips before he could register it and he felt his head fell upon his father's shoulder as they reached the village with their little cart. By the time they arrived at their house, Varian was already sleeping and Quirin had to carry him to his room. He took off his son's apron, shoes, and goggles before settled him in his bed. And as he did so, he saw the steak of blue in his son's hair began to glow before its silver-blue color spread all across his son's head.

So he had those dreams again… They would never stop, would they ? he thought bittersweetly.

… Of course not, they wouldn't. Things would be so different if Varian never had them if Varian had never been…

He drew out a long sigh and close his eyes, stroking again his son's black hair. And so, Quirin didn't register the coming glowing light until he heard something bump against the window's frame. Looking in the direction of the noise, he saw that it was a lantern that found its way to his son's room. Frowning at the strange event, Quirin stood up and went to take it between two hands and saw that it was not a common lantern but the that was launched by Frederick and Arianna.

Bewildered by the strangeness of the situation, Quirin returned to his son side and, on a whim, put the object on Varian's nightstand. In the distance, Old Corona's chief heard a bell rang twelve times. The lost princess's birthday just had ended, but it was not over yet. He counted two minutes in his head before leaning back over Varian and pressed one kiss on his forehead.

"Daddy… ? " ask Varian's sleeping voice, not noticing the surreal brightness of the room, "What is it…?"

"Nothing, son. Happy Birthday," he murmured as he stroke his son's shinning hair, lulling the younger to sleep, a small smile on his lips.

A few moments later, Quirin made his way out of Varian's bedroom to his own, aiming a good night of rest after having spent several weeks working like a madman.

But before that, he had to reinforce the spells that kept his house, and mostly Varian, safe. And even if he knew that he still had some years before hells break loose and that he wasn't the only one watching over his son (even if it was still from afar), they would reassure Quirin a little more about Varian well-being.

Once he was sure that everything was okay, the older man let himself fell straight into his mattress, barely pulling a sheet over himself, falling asleep almost instantly.

I don't know if I'm pleased with this chapter or not. It's a filler one, btw, as a lot of them will be! But, they are needed because they settle a lot of things so…

What do you think of it? A review/comment is always appreciated! ^^

[blogsmith57]

Movies Ansd Tv With Pina Colada Song

Movies And Tv With Pina Colada Song Rupert Holmes

Pina Colada Song Wikipedia

Escape The Pina Colada Song Video

Two Pina Coladas Song

Pina Colada Song Video

Janet learns the lyrics to the Pina Colada song. Janet learns the lyrics to the Pina Colada song. On the movie the sweetest thing who sings the pina colada song its a womens group?

In The Number Ones, I’m reviewing every single #1 single in the history of the Billboard Hot 100, starting with the chart’s beginning, in 1958, and working my way up into the present.

***

At least in retrospect, the ’70s must have been the wildest, most motley, most all-over-the-place decade in the history of popular music. Some genuine musical revolutions either started in the ’70s or matured during the decade: Hip-hop, punk, disco, funk, prog. But if you look at the ’70s through the lens of the pop charts, as this column does, you see excitement and tedium locked in a constant struggle for dominance throughout the decade, with novelty sneaking around the outside and getting some jabs in.

So really, the ’70s ended the only way they possibly could’ve done: With a badly-sung, infernally catchy soft-rock ditty, an infidelity-themed story-song that ends in an O. Henry twist. Rupert Holmes’ “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” has popped up on movie and TV-show soundtracks countless times in the past four decades; it has earned its place within our shared consciousness. And yet I can’t imagine ever being in a situation where I would actively seek the song out, where I would want to hear it. But then, I was three months old when the thing hit #1. Maybe I’m not supposed to know what motherfuckers were thinking.

Rupert Holmes, the man who wrote and produced “Escape” and who thus owns the chart transition from ’70s to ’80s, had been part of the pop-music dream factory for a decade when he got to #1. Holmes was born in the UK, the son of an American Army officer and an English woman. He spent the early years of his childhood in the English village of Northwich and the later years in the New York suburb of Nanuet. Holmes’ parents were both musicians, and Holmes went to the Manhattan School Of Music on a clarinet scholarship. Pretty soon after he finished school, he went to work as a pop-music professional.

Holmes was working as an arranger in the late ’60s when he joined the Cuff Links, an anonymous bubblegum group that also featured Ron Dante, the lead singer of the Archies’ “Sugar, Sugar.” When the Cuff Links broke up, Holmes recorded a song called “Jennifer Tomkins.” The single, released under the name Street People, peaked at #36. In 1971, Holmes wrote a cannibalism-themed joint called “Timothy” for the Pennsylvania band the Buoys, and that one peaked at #17. Holmes also wrote ad jingles and scored a little-seen 1970 Western called Five Savage Men. He was in the game.

Holmes released Widescreen, his solo debut, in 1974. Before 1979’s Partners In Crime, the breakout album that gave us “Escape,” Holmes knocked out four solo LPs. None of them sold, but those records helped Holmes build a name for himself as a writer of funny, irony-infused story-songs. Barbra Streisand was a fan, and Holmes wrote songs for her and for the absurdly popular soundtrack for the 1976 film A Star Is Born. Holmes didn’t score a charting single of his own until 1978’s “Let’s Get Crazy Tonight,” which peaked at #72. Private Stock, the label that released “Let’s Get Crazy Tonight,” went out of business when the song was still on the charts.

Holmes got the idea for “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” one night when he was flipping through The Village Voice, the newspaper that once employed me. (“Escape” is the second #1 hit built around classified ads; it arrived eight years after the Honey Cone’s “Want Ads.”) Inspired, Holmes hatched the narrative of a bored couple who, while attempting to cheat on each other, accidentally go out on a blind date with each other. As originally written, the chorus started with the line “if you like Humphrey Bogart.” While he was getting ready to record it, though, Holmes decided that his own songs had too many references to older movies, and to Bogart in particular. He changed “Humphrey Bogart” to “piña coladas” at the last possible minute simply because he didn’t want to let down any of the real Rupert Holmes heads out there.

If you stop to think about “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” for even a second, it’s a pretty nasty little song. The very first line is this: “I was tired of my lady/ We’d been together too long.” The song’s narrator is unhappy with relationship, but he doesn’t do anything to end it. Instead, he sneaks around behind his girlfriend’s back, falling for a sentence in a classified ad. The person described in that ad seems hopelessly basic. Likes: Fruity mixed drinks, rain, champagne, beach fucking. Dislikes: Yoga, health food. But apparently the guy is basic, too, since a few lines of small-print newsprint text are all he needs to ditch his relationship. He takes out his own ad, responding to the first, and he includes grandiose verbiage about planning an “escape.”

He does not successfully execute that escape. It turns out that the girl who took out that classified ad is his own girlfriend, who is just as bored with the relationship as he is. They meet up at an Irish pub and instantly figure out exactly what just happened. The song presents this ending as a happy surprise. In interviews years later, Holmes says that the guy was supposed to be an asshole, and a passive one. The girl, who is also attempting to cheat, was at least the one with the wherewithal to instigate the whole episode. Holmes was hoping that they’d both realize how much they had in common, that they’d recommit themselves to each other. This seems unlikely.

Movies And Tv With Pina Colada Song Rupert Holmes

I have questions. For instance: Where does this couple go from here? They both know that they can’t trust each other. They also know that they don’t really know each other. They’ve got all these completely elementary preferences that they haven’t communicated. After that initial rush of recognition, how does the rest of this relationship look? How long do they stay together? How are they not incredibly pissed off at one another from the moment they spy each other across the bar? How are they not, at the same time, both consumed with guilt upon getting caught? I don’t like this couple’s chances.

I don’t know if this is a good story, but it’s good storytelling. I don’t much like the characters or where they end up, but Holmes sketches out the whole narrative in a few quick words, never losing sight of his own melody. This doesn’t change the reality that the actual music behind this story is exactly the kind of wack-ass soft-rock pablum that I cannot stand. It’s got an awkward, clumpy beat that Holmes recorded with two drummers. (Holmes co-produced it, and he says that the studio band played sloppily that day, so he used the 16 bars he liked the best and looped them.) There’s watery piano. There’s a processed-to-death guitar lead. There’s a groove that can’t stop tripping over itself. And then there are those vocals.

Holmes isn’t a bad vocalist, exactly. He a classic ’70s singer-songwriter guy, a conversational speak-singer. But man, I do not like what happens when he cranks that voice up and hits the hook on “Escape.” The hook is, to be fair, instantly memorable. But this is not always a good thing. Holmes hits that upper register, and I just wish I was someplace else. I don’t even know how people functioned when this thing was all over the radio.

Holmes managed one more big hit after “Escape (The Piña Colada Song).” “Him,” the single’s follow-up, was another story-song. This time, Holmes sang from the perspective of a guy who figures out that his girlfriend is cheating. “Him” peaked at #6. (It’s a 4.) Holmes kept putting out albums into the ’90s, but none of them hit. He also went back to writing songs for other people. “You Got It All,” a ballad that Holmes wrote for the teenage Tongan-American Minneapolis-based Mormon family band the Jets, peaked at #3 in 1986. (It’s a 6.) Britney Spears, an artist who will eventually appear in this column, covered it on her debut album. Get ready to be incredibly depressed: Holmes wrote the song for his 10-year-old daughter. Before the song took off, she died of an undetected brain tumor.

I don’t know how you bounce back from something like that, but Holmes did. After “Escape (The Piña Colada Song),” Holmes has had more success as a storyteller than as a musician. In 1985, Holmes wrote The Mystery Of Edwin Drood, a Broadway musical based on an unfinished Charles Dickens novel. It won five Tonys, including two for Holmes. Since then, Holmes has written more than a dozen plays, many of them hits. He also created Remember WENN, a drama that ran for three season on AMC in the late ’90s, and he wrote all 56 of its episodes. He’s published a few books, too. The man can write, and the best thing about “Escape” is that you can tell that right away.

But Holmes is a whole lot more famous for “Escape” than for anything else he’s ever done in his life. He’s pretty funny when he talks about it, too. In a 2003 Songfacts interview, Holmes said this:

I have a feeling that if I saved an entire orphanage from a fire and carried the last child out on my shoulders, as I stood there charred and smoking, they’d say, “Aren’t you the guy who wrote ‘The Piña Colada Song?'”

Perhaps Rupert Holmes would like to escape “The Piña Colada Song.” So would I.

Pina Colada Song Wikipedia

BONUS BEATS: Here’s the scene from a 1999 episode of The Simpsons — the same storied episode that predicted the Trump presidency — where the not-aging-well future version of Bart sings a parody of “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” during his sister’s presidential addresss:

BONUS BONUS BEATS: Here’s the weirdly extremely memorable “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” needle-drop from the 2001 film Shrek:

BONUS BONUS BONUS BEATS: Here’s Kanye West, noted fan of the aforementioned Shrek scene, quoting “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” on “White Dress,” a song that he contributed to the soundtrack of the 2012 RZA-directed kung fu movie The Man With The Iron Fists:

(Kanye West will eventually appear in this column.)

BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS BEATS: Here’s the scene from 2014’s Guardians Of The Galaxy — which, like The Man With The Iron Fists, stars Dave Bautista — where Chris Pratt steals his Walkman back from the space-prison guard who is enjoying “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)”:

BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS BEATS: Here’s the great scene from a 2016 Better Call Saul episode where Bob Odenkirk sings a few bars of “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” and spouts some fake biographical facts about Rupert Holmes:

more from The Number Ones

Raised in Hawaii Jack Johnson was the son of a famed surfer and even tried to have a go of his own on the waves. Unfortunately an accident that involved teeth being knocked out and stitches being required kind of halted that dream as he was sidelined from surfing for a while. It wasn’t too long after that however that his musical talents started to become his thing and picked up a guitar and started strumming out a few songs that he’d thought up. He did this throughout college, joining a band and jamming as they performed here and there during their time together. Johnson’s big break came in 2000 however when he not only produced the soundtracks for a couple of films but he tried his hand at making them as well. You could easily say this man is quite talented but it might still be an understatement.

Here are a few of his songs as used in TV and movies.

5. Glee – Bubbletoes

Glee is one of those shows you either liked or didn’t think about. It wasn’t even a matter of not liking if it you didn’t watch it, as the energy and verve of the show was enough to make it interesting. But if you weren’t into the whole song and dance routine then chances are you wouldn’t dislike it but just wouldn’t watch it since the whole idea of not liking the show seemed kind of petty since it was so upbeat a lot of the time, or at least seemed like it. In many way Glee kind of took a lot of people back to their experiences in high school since there are quite a few people that can remember being in similar clubs.

Escape The Pina Colada Song Video

4. Sense8 – The Sharing Song

This show is something else and it was one of Netflix’s top prospects when it first came out. The ability to connect with people miles away due to a special quality that links them all, and the knowledge and skills that can be shared via that link is pretty cool, but it could cause some serious problems as well. You can’t help but think that some of the people that are connected would embrace this after a period of confusion, but others would seek to block it out since this is the kind of thing that humans would rarely ever be able to get used to since it’s not considered natural or normal.

3. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty – Escape (The Pina Colada Song)

Two Pina Coladas Song

Walter Mitty is a man that no one seems to take seriously since he’s kind of a nobody when the film starts, though he’s far more important than many people would care to realize. Working at Time magazine where he’s been for so long he’s been taken for granted and treated like a shadow on the wall since he’s a very quiet and unassuming person. But when an important negative for the last issue of Time goes missing he has to go and track it down by tracking down the photographer. In the end however he finds that it was with him the whole time, he just didn’t know where to look. The adventure he takes though is what was truly important as it finally got him to open up to the world.

2. Curious George – Upside Down

Several generations have grown up with Curious George since in truth he’s been around for a very long time. As a children’s story he’s one of the most classic tales out there and is the kind of story that you’d want your kid to watch since it’s a very touching and educational show that offers a lot of fun and engaging activity that kids will want to emulate. Sure George gets himself into trouble now and again, but that’s the beauty of the design. Kids can learn how they can get themselves out of trouble as well since George is all about having fun but he’s also about problem-solving. This is just a great show for kids and a bit of nostalgia for adults.

1. Jack Johnson – Middle Man

For all his talent and all his skill at music Jack Johnson is still a very diverse man since he’s not only a musician, but a father, a husband, and an environmentalist that spends a lot of his time balancing his life out between the different roles he’s given himself to play. So far in life it seems like he’s done just fine and has kept everything as it should be. He’s a very open person about his life in music, but keeps a lid on the private lives of his kids and family, which seems like one of the best ideas since quite honestly it’s no one else’s business. He’s definitely a family man and someone that cares a lot about what he does.

Pina Colada Song Video

Usually that’s the kind of person that knows just what they want and how to make it happen.

[parkjmini]

Precarious // 8

mafia!bts: park jimin precarious: adj. dangerously insecure or unstable Psychotic, that’s how he viewed himself. He was a precise hitman who never made a mistake, until now. Set on an all kill mission, he brings back more than just blood stains. word count: 2710 warnings: explicit language, violence, drugs

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] 8

im back from hiatus (-: AND i thought id surprise yall with a chapter of Precarious finally after all these long, waited months anD I made this one a little longer as a treat bc i never update this story )-: 

“Where the fuck have you been all day?” Jungkook pushed Jimin’s chest as he walked through the door. He didn’t respond. You, shyly, tried to hurry pass into Jimin’s room. 

“(Y/N), stay.” Jin offered and patted the seat next to him on the couch. Everyone watched as you scurried quickly next to Jin, your head ducking down. It always scared you when all seven of them were gathered together, especially with Namjoon in the room. He terrified you the most.

Peering up, you saw Jimin taking small peaks in your direction. He was leaning coolly against one of the columns. Namjoon stood more in the middle, orchestrating everything. “We have a big shipment tonight. A big expensive shipment.” There was an evil shine over his eyes as he spoke.

“Why can’t Hoseok and Yoongi handle it themselves?” V asked, addressing J-Hope and Suga as their real names. They often tried to call each other by their aliases because you were around, but there was always someone who falters through. V --- Taehyung --- was the one to always forget. He’s messed up enough for you to catch all of their real names. 

Steam came out of Namjoon’s ears and his lips remained in a thin line. He exhaled sharply, obviously annoyed with Taehyung’s statement. “Did you not just hear me say it was a big and expensive shipment? Do you think I am an idiot to allow only two of my men to transport when goons are everywhere trying to get their hands on the same stuff? When did we decide that it was okay to question me?”

“Do you want to die, V?” Jin slapped the back of Taehyung’s head. The young boy groaned in pain and apologized. Yoongi merely scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

It seemed like Jin was second in command. He was very close with Namjoon and cared for him deeply. You figured out that he was the oldest among all the men. Jin had a bad case of rambling and making small talk.

“Pick up is at 2 AM at the loading docks. There will be two trucks filled with drugs, one arriving at 1:30 AM and the other arriving five minutes after. That’s where we come in. Get on those trucks and complete the exchange.” Namjoon paced and Hoseok leaned back casually in the couch.

“We’re hijacking them?” Jungkook asked.

“Why the big surprise, it’s not the first time you’ve done it.” Namjoon tossed two cream colored folders on the coffee table. Yoongi was quick to shuffle through the papers.

What he said next ran a shiver down your spine, “we’re messing with the cartel? This is going to be fun.”

“No live witnesses. Take care of it.” Namjoon eyed Jungkook and Jimin. They both nodded, but Jimin seemed out of it. 

Namjoon scanned the room and he walked towards you. “Stay here and watch the house.”

“I love house watching---” the minute that left your mouth, you regretted it. You decided it wasn’t the brightest idea to sass the man everyone was afraid of. “I’ll stay.” You gulped.

He grinned and turned back to everyone else. “Times ticking.” He headed for the door and everyone started to spring up to follow.

However, Jimin began strutting towards you. Jungkook, puzzled, stopped him and shook his head. He shoved him off and Jungkook stared at his partner make his way to you.

You met him halfway, near the stairs up to the open front door. He automatically wrapped his arms around your waist. He head rested in the crook of your neck. You closed your eyes to soak in his embrace. “Be careful.” You whispered into his ear. He nodded into your shoulder. 

Opening your eyes, you saw Jungkook glaring at the two of you. “Lover boy, we need to go. Now.”

Jimin kissed your cheek before letting you go and running out the door. The mansion was empty and you stood in their grand living room alone.

You missed Jimin already.

Jimin threw his hoodie in the corner of the van. He tied his bandanna around his face. His black t-shirt clung loosely to his skin. He stared out the window, thinking about the kiss you two shared earlier that night. He has never felt so warm inside. He loved how soft your lips were and how perfect they seemed to fit.

He didn’t want to leave you alone at the house, partly because he was uneasy about you sneaking out and leaving him forever. He didn’t know how you felt about him, but he had made his actions clear. He really liked you.

“So you fucking her now?” Jungkook whispered. Jimin snapped his head to see Jungkook’s dark brown eyes staring. He couldn’t see the rest of his expression because of his bandanna.

Jimin was thankful that no one else heard the kid speak. He shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it? You’re in love with her and she’s in love with you?” Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

“No. She makes me feel different, safe almost.” 

Jungkook threw off his hoodie as they approached the dock. “That’s ironic. The only danger you encounter is yourself, Jimin.”

The vehicle came to a stop. Clicks of a loaded gun filled the dark car. Namjoon counted down with his fingers. 1... 2... 3... 

Then the doors slid open and everyone ran out. Jimin hurried behind the large loading tanks, closest to the entrance. The time ticked to 1:30 AM and right on cue, a big truck crept up slowly. There were two people visible to Jimin. There was the driver and someone in the passenger seat. Jimin turned around and spotted Jungkook a few feet away. He nodded and signaled for Jimin to go.

The passenger was the person closest to Jimin. Pointing the gun, he aimed directly for his chest as he stepped down from the tall vehicle. In seconds, he fell to the ground. Jimin sprinted to the other side and opened the door to the driver’s seat. Everything happened so quickly. The driver fell from the seat in a blink and soaked in his own pool of blood. 

Namjoon came from Jimin’s left and pulled himself up into the trunk. He jogged to the back of the truck and Hoseok was already latched on. He was undoing the lock with incredible skill. Taehyung rolled a smoke bomb and voice erupted from inside the trunk.

Hoseok slid the entire back up and exposed the stacks of drugs along with the several cartel members. They were coughing at the sudden suffocation of air. Jimin took his chance and shot repeatedly, seeing red.

People began running from behind the tanks and attacked Hoseok and Taehyung. Jimin wasn’t registering the surprise ambush. He shot at their heads. Hoseok, taking the opportunity after almost being strangled to death, shot Taehyung’s attacker in the face.

It was suddenly 3 against 5 as more slowly appeared. Namjoon didn’t hesitate to step on the gas. Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok jumped onto the truck before it was too late. They were all shooting at the others who tried to stop them.

“Did you know?” Taehyung asked, panting. 

“No clue. I guess they were expecting us.” Hoseok shrugged nonchalantly. Jimin watched as the second truck pulled up and Jungkook, Jin, and Yoongi repeated the same offence. They were becoming smaller and smaller as they drove away.

Suddenly, they were swerving and a sharp turn caused them to topple over onto the dead bodies. “What the hell, Namjoon..”

You wandered the vacant house, swinging yourself around the large columns in the living room. Your mind replayed your sweet moment with Jimin, forgetting that a feeling like this had existed. There was a time before this mess when you were happy. You didn’t think you’d feel it being with him, of all people.

It was almost foreign. This feeling of joy and wanting to be with someone. Your stay here had been long and difficult. It was not the life you had ever wanted, but it had to be something you had to deal with. And Jimin was there to guide you through it, along with his own repressed insecurities in his own mind.

However, your emotions were skewed, almost lost. It died along with your family. It felt wrong to be revived, mainly because your family couldn’t have the same chance. You hoped that you’d be okay one day and that Jimin was going to be there to heal with you.

Your mindless swinging stopped when you heard a car pull up and there was hushed chatter outside the door. Hiding, you crouched behind the large couch and held your breath.

There was loud, whispered yelling. Multiple voices echoed and you grew extremely terrified, your palms becoming slick with sweat. Your heart thumped loud enough for you to hear it in your ears. It couldn’t have been them; it was too early.

You waited and the voices stopped once they reached the door. The latches came undone, swiftly, and the figures staggered in. The lights flicked on and it revealed to be the gang.

Namjoon spotted you right when he entered and chuckled a little. “Next time, find a better hiding spot.” Everyone flooded in and you got up to see where Jimin was, but he never entered in.

“Where’s Jimin?” You asked frantically, looking past the weary expressions and shifty eyes.

“I told you she’d ask.” Jungkook groaned. “She’ll never notice he’s missing, yeah right. They’re practically attached to one another.” He rolled his eyes, for the hundredth time that night.

“Jin, handle it.” Namjoon ordered and Jin escorted you over to an empty room.

Jin’s concern expression didn’t sit well with you and you shook your head, assuming the worse. “Is he dead?” You asked, teary eyed.

He tilted his head and laugh a little. “No, Jimin? Dead? No way. There were detectives at the location and Jimin was bait.”

“He’s in custody?! And you all let him get caught? What is going to happen to him? Is he going to jail? ---”

“---Why do you care so much about what happens to him?” Jin cut your frantic questions and you blinked blankly at him, unsure as to how to explain yourself.

“Uh-- I--- well, I don’t know. Maybe because I worry for him.” You refused to make any further eye contact, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Why do you worry about a horrendous man who murdered your family and kidnapped you? Why care for a killer?” Jin pressed on and you leaned against the wall, searching for any way to counter his claims.

“Why did he let a rich, self entitled brat live when she was destined to be killed… by him? I guess we both have questions we can’t seem to find answers to.” You sighed and the young man before you smiled devilishly. “Now, moving on to questions that can be answered: what is going to happen to him and why was it him?”

“It was Namjoon’s orders and Jimin listens to him like a lost puppy, trying to seek comfort in a dark world. Jimin will be set on bail, which we’ll pay to get him out. He’s only going to spend a night in a cell at the station and then he’ll be back in your arms, babe.” 

“All the while detectives grill him the entire night and hope that he breaks. That’s emotionally damaging.” The image of a stone-faced Jimin sitting alone in an interrogation room popped in your head, chills running down your spine.

“This entire lifestyle is emotionally damaging, you would know, wouldn’t you?” Jin taunted and patted your shoulder.

“I don’t think people want to join the mafia. Majority are forced, sometimes it’s their only option.” You groaned and stomped your way to Jimin’s room. Jumping onto his big, empty bed, you filled it up with your warmth. Your sad heart fell to the ground after being lifted, hoping that Jimin was okay.

“Why were you there? Was Kim Namjoon there with you as well?” The officer nailed Jimin repeatedly for the past two hours, however, he did not budge. He stared straight ahead like he was trained to do and he ignored every comment made towards him.

“He’s not talking and the bail has been posted.” His partner squeezed the bridge of his nose in distress and frustration.

“Fuck! We had them this time. What were you doing at the docks!?” The older officer screamed at Jimin’s face and Jimin only responded back with a blink.

“Maybe we need leverage.”

“Check the files, see what you can dig up.” He commanded and hurried to shuffle through the piles of manila colored folders.

The younger deputy cleared his throat and pointed at a paper out of Jimin’s view. “There was a murder of a family, did you have anything to do with that?”

“It was a family of four, but the daughter is missing. You didn’t do your job correctly, did you? She’s out there somewhere and when we find her, you and your entire mafia is going down.”

Jimin’s eyes shifted nervously and he lost his cold hard expression.

“Where is the girl, Park Jimin? You seem to be uneasy at the mention of her.” They continued to crack him further and Jimin gulped. He hated how they mentioned you and the sheer percent of fear set in his system. Jimin wanted to protect you, away from all your troubles. However, he was unaware of how to do so and acted too hastily.

You were his special secret, the only thing that brought him serenity and comfort. He couldn’t let anyone use you; he was not letting anyone have the chance to rob you away. He was genuinely afraid of losing his only happiness.

“I hope you never find her.” Jimin finally spoke and the two men stared at him in disbelief.

“So he speaks?” The older man groaned sarcastically.

“Boss! Bail has been paid, he’s out.” Someone opened the door and yelled inside. Jimin held out his cuffed hands to be released and the frustration in their faces brought him delight. Nonetheless, he remained wary at the mention of you.

He was unsure how much longer he could control himself. There was too big of an affect on him and he needed to shut them down; you interfered with his work. But he didn’t want to repress his feelings anymore. He had forgotten how nice it felt to feel loved or love someone else. Confused and conflicted, he walked out of the station to be greeted with Jin leaning against the car.

“You look horrible. Rough night?” Jin jumped at the sight of Jimin. He shook his head and slumped his heavy body into the vehicle and Jin joined him.

“I have a surprise for you that will make you feel better.” Jin said and Jimin peered over, curiously wondering what could possibly make his miserable night better.

You popped up around Jimin, who sat in the passenger seat, and kissed his cheek. “Did they grill you that bad?” Your voice was sweet melody to his ears.

His heart almost leaped out of his chest at your touch and remained quick at your affection. “Surprise! I couldn’t leave her at home because she was being so persistent.” Jin groaned and started up the car.

Then Jimin remembered what the police had said, “we need to go. It’s a risk that she’s out here with roaming police all around.” He tried not to get mad, he held it in. His fists were clenched tightly at his lap and Jin was pulling out of the parking lot.

“We’re going to be fine. I’m not going anywhere without you, Jimin.” He unclenched his fists, his heart settling calmly in his chest. Your reassurance brought him comfort and made his anger disappear.

“I missed you.” Jimin breathed into the silence and your rosy cheeks accompanied you for the ride back to the mansion. “You should be asleep at this hour.”

“I couldn’t sleep in an empty bed. It’s better with you in it anyways.” You smiled, in return, causing a light pink to dance across Jimin’s cheeks under the morning dew.

[xiumin-on-this-shit]

I Am An Alpha Ch 19: Secret

“Insoo, what the hell is going on? Get over here right now,” He holds his hand out me. I scramble to my feet before rushing to him only to be handed off to Minseok.

“Master Kim please don’t hurt us!” Mino begs. Master Kim?

“Would you care to explain to me why our mate is on the ground, smelling of another alpha?”

“We showed up just before you did and saw some alpha running out of here,” The other answers.

“Um…He um…” The red head tries to respond but with so many alphas in one place I imagine it’s hard.

I grab Kris’s hand and bring his attention back to me, “Hyung please don’t be mad I brought this on myself. I picked a fight with the alpha because he was tormenting these omegas.”

His face softens when his eyes find my face, “Little wolf that is not your job to protect them, what would we have done if you had been attacked by that bastard?”

“I know, I’m sorry I just felt so guilty at the thought of leaving them behind to deal with him. I wasn’t able to save a lot of omegas when I was in the army so I figured this could be part of my redemption.”

Minseok’s hold on my tightens, his lips press against my forehead, “We didn’t even think about that, sorry little wolf. You are our little brave alpha.”

“Why weren’t you watching over your mates?” Jongin snaps, “Our mate shouldn’t be doing your job.”

“It was our fault,” Blondie blurts out. “We wanted to try doing something by ourselves and we couldn’t even do that, we are so sorry.” The two omegas bow with their foreheads pressed against the tile floor. “This oppa was so nice to us and we only caused him trouble, we are so sorry.”

Even though I feel guilty that these four are in a bad situation with my mates I would be lying if I didn’t enjoy the confusion on my mates faces. Yixing questions it first, “Oppa?”

Blondie peaks up and nods, “He seems to carry himself with more confidence so I assumed he was an older omega.”

“You are right little omega I am older. Don’t mind them,” I smile at her. “Can we go?” I ask looking up at the eldest.

“We didn’t get very far with our shopping,” He chuckles.

I sigh, “Sorry, I can’t even stay out of trouble that long.”

“How about we try again? You go back with Suho and we will finish our shopping.”

I nod, “Okay, but can I say goodbye first?” He hesitates, looking at his leader for an answer. “They are the first normal people I have ever talked to.”

Kris nods, waving me forward regardless of how much he wants to stop me.

I take a few steps towards them, the omegas are hidden behind their mates but I can see them peeking out. “I just want to say goodbye, no need to stand on guard,” I muse, the omegas smile and slowly rise to their feet, but pause when a small growl comes from their mates. I stop, not wanting to over step.

Jongdae clicks his tongue, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to growl at our little mate?” Though he sounds playful I can hear the poison behind it. The growling stops, Jongdae smiles, “Good ahead little one, we won’t let them bother you.”

“I don’t want to make them uncomfortable though, you guys do not have to say goodbye if you do not want to,” I tell the nervous looking girls. Though they share a look for a moment before launching themselves at me once again taking me to the ground.

“Thank you again Oppa!” They say together, their arms tangled together around my neck.

Their mates are on their feet, “Lisa be careful! Don’t get hurt and don’t hurt him!”

Yixing chuckles, “Its fine, let them be.”

“Not for too long though,” Sehun pops in, his eyes narrowed on us.

One of the older ones pat his head, “This maybe one of the first times our little wolf has been able to do this with other omegas, don’t ruin it.”

“But Suho hyung, I haven’t even been able to do that!” The youngest continues to whine.

Lisa and Rose finally release me, sitting back on their heels Rose asks, “You haven’t been together for long? The black dragons are a very old pack and Oppa you seem pretty old yourself, how did you just find each other?”

I hum for a minute, sitting up myself, “We only met three days ago. Well actually I had met one of them, head alpha, Kris hyung, about thirty years ago during-“

“Wait what?” Minseok seethes. “You met before?”

I cover my mouth, “Did I say something bad?” Kris stands at the head of the pack, suddenly not looking as confident as before. Almost everyone behind him looks about ready to rip his throat out, making me gulp.

Luhan snaps out of his murderous look first, his eyes shift to me, shaking in these oversized boots. He comes forward, the two other alphas pull their mates back behind them, Luhan disregards them completely and offers me a hand off the floor, a large smile plastered on his face, “No of course not Love, but we should stop you there anyway. We are going home now.”

I frown, “What about shopping?”

“We will worry about that later,” His voice begins to loose it’s sweetness as his eyes drift over to Kris. “Apparently we have some other things to talk about that seemed to have escaped our head alpha’s thoughts.”

“You guys,” Kris clears his throat awkwardly, “I can explain this.”

Kyungsoo lets out a surprisingly hearty laugh, that sends both chills down my spine and warmth to my heart at the sight of his large smile, “Don’t worry Hyung, we will have plenty of time to talk at home. I can’t wait to hear the story behind this. Ready to go little wolf?” His arm is around my shoulders, both him and Luhan drag me out of the hallway.

I look over my shoulder for Kris, “But what about Kris hyung?”

“Don’t worry my little wolf!” Minseok muses as he manages to get the taller man in a chokehold, pulling him down to his level with a horrifying smile. “Hyung has him! We will meet you back at home, you go on ahead with those nice boys!”

They all seem to sense my hesitance, Kyungsoo strokes my head, “Don’t worry my little wolf, it’s not like we are going to murder him.”

Luhan clicks his tongue, “Speak for yourself.” My eyes go wide staring up at the elder who, once again looses the anger in his eyes, “I’m just kidding little wolf, no harm will come to him.”

“We might just try to punish him a bit though,” Jongdae admits with a devious smirk.

“Maybe some separation will do him some good,” Chanyeol chimes in, eyeing up his hyung with anger.

That gets the head alpha going, “You think you can keep my mate from me?”

Chanyeol hums, “Maybe not me, but as a pack we might be able to.”

“Why are we separating?” I question, using my strength to keep us from going forward.

Suho sneaks up behind me and scoops me up in his arms, “Your favorite hyung is going to be punished a bit for keeping a secret, we will see if we can forgive him after he explains. But for now he is in the dog house. We are going to be walking through a crowd again so you can rest your head again.”

I just nod, obeying as he continues to walk through all his brothers. My arms go around his neck breathing his scent in to keep anxiety at bay. The idea that I said something wrong eats at me, did I get Kris into trouble? I’ve never been the type to keep my thoughts to myself so when Suho sets me down in the car’s front seat I can’t help but ask, “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

Suho straps me into the seat, humming as he tries to think of an answer, “No Love. You told us something very important, but why didn’t you mention this earlier?” Everyone except for the oldest three surround the open car door.

I shrug, “I had mentioned it right when I showed up and no one questioned it so I didn’t think it was important.”

“I completely forgot,” Baekhyun stares at me dumbstruck for a moment.

“Holy shit,” Tao mumbles, “Kris attacked you, didn’t he?”

I nod.

“You guys knew about this?” Chanyeol snarls, glaring down at them. “How the hell could you forget something like that?” I’m surprised when the happy giant pushes Tao.

The younger hold his hands up in surrender, “There was a lot going on, I couldn’t take all of it in.”

“It was all overwhelming,” Baekhyun explains, his eyes focused on me, “She was just there and it felt like the world stopped. I wasn’t paying attention to what the others were arguing about, I could only look at her.”

“I know how hard it is for you to focus but this is something that is important!” Jongdae sighs. “Kris attacked her!”

“I mean he isn’t the only person who mess up,” I try to defend him, “I shot him!”

The world seems to stop, all of their eyes shift to me, “What?”

“I shot him! That scar on his chest? I am the person who did that, well me and Jin hyung.”

“How the hell did this happen?”

“I thought we were going to talk about it at home? I don’t like the smells here,” I cover my nose, feeling sick from all of the chemicals in the air.

“Of course,” Suho smiles, “Who wants to ride with us?”

“Isn’t Luhan hyung driving?”

He shakes his head, “He is going to ride back with Kris and Minseok hyung.”

“I want to go with you!” Baekhyun jumps up eagerly.

“Us too!” Jongin and Sehun yell together.

“That may not be a good idea,” Yixing awkwardly rubs the back of his neck.

They pout, “Why not?”

“She isn’t comfortable with all of us,” Suho snickers, eyeing up the youngest two.

“No it’s fine!” I say with a big smile, hoping they can’t see through my lie. The three quickly rush to the other side and climb into the backseat.

Suho sighs, “Are you sure this is fine? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“You are my mate, I will be okay,” I try to reassure myself and him. He gives me a small smile as he closes my door before going over to his own and climbing into the driver’s seat. The rest walk towards the larger car Kris had driven, giving me small waves and encouraging smiles.

I take a deep breath, I can do this.

“So tell me little wolf,” Baekhyun muses from the middle spot of the backseat, in between his two youngest brothers, “How in the world did you manage to survive a fight with our strongest hyung?”

“Baekhyun,” Suho warns.

“Hyung we are all thinking it,” Sehun points out from where he sits behind the older. I shift in my seat so I’m facing the eldest in the car and so my back will no longer be to the man I trust the least.

“What do you want to know exactly?” I ask.

“When did this happen?”

“It was when you guys wiped out most of the army, that night we were raiding the village you guys showed up while I was grabbing Jungkook. I didn’t see any of you, until after we were told to scatter, Jaebum’s people were throwing bombs to distract you so we could escape. I was running with Jungkook when Kris tackled me. I was dumbstruck at first, then I got mad, he was snapping at me, looking about ready to rip my throat out. I just kept thinking how could he not recognize me? How could he not see past Jin’s scent and see that it was me?”

“I don’t know how that hyung of yours does it but it’s impressive,” Baekhyun points out. “You were less than twenty feet away from me and I didn’t even know you were there.”

“It happened to me though too,” Sehun admits bashfully. “When I caught your pup instead of you, I could only find your scent on him, it’s like you had disappeared.”

I sigh, “I know I shouldn’t be upset with him about that but-“

“Oh no Love,” Baekhyun interrupts, “You should be absolutely pissed but I’m just letting you know that there is a reason behind it. I want to fucking murder him because of his blindness we lost thirty years with you.”

A small snarl rumbles deep in Suho’s chest, “Don’t remind me. I’m trying to stay level headed but you aren’t helping.” His hands grip the steering wheel tighter, his anger obvious in his glowing red eyes. “Thirty years,” He hums.

“We could have had pups by now,” Sehun mumbles.

“We could have had a normal relationship where we don’t scare our mate,” Baekhyun grumbles after.

“It’s pointless to think about that,” I voice my opinion honestly. “We are here now, that’s what matters.”

Suho smiles at me, “You are right.”

“Jongin, you are being really quiet, are you that mad?” Baekhyun places a hand on the younger’s shoulder. For the first time since we’ve been in the car I look over at him, only slightly afraid of how mad he could be. His eyes are fixated on me, glowing bright red.

“Hyung?” I question peeking over my seat.

“Yea, I’m mad. But not just at Kris hyung, we were all there but none of us knew. We were rampaging threw this village killing any soldier we could get our hands on, that could have been any of us.”

I’m sorry if this sucks...have a good night!