#Ma’am you were a grown woman who was getting paid to be there and I was a teenager who chose to be in your class and had been in

[hauntedkeys]

”Man I loved being in band, the environment was so supportive”- guy who just remembered the one time that his chronic pain had flared up so bad that he could taste blood and literally had to stay home from school one day and during band practice he sat down because whenever he stood for too long he got so dizzy he couldn’t think and his band director came over to him and lectured him about how he wasn’t trying hard enough and she had thrown up three time that day and she was still doing her job so he didn’t have an excuse.

[youarejesting]

Sly like a... ? - Part 1

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All  Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 1.6k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Next]

Humans always strived to be better, faster, and stronger. So it was only natural for them to turn to genetic manipulation. Splicing the human DNA with that of animals. Bringing about a new half-human, half-animal race called Hybrids. They were like most things humans deemed different, scary, and an abomination. They were not allowed to be independent in fear of rebellion against the elite pure humans. These Hybrids were soon seen as lesser compared to the pure humans and were quick to be sold as servants to the rich and shady, and pets to the common families. The only problem was when the families no longer wanted their designer pedigree hybrid they were either abandoned, sold, or worse.

Hybrids didn’t have a voice. They were not allowed to live on their own unless they were fully educated with a bachelor’s degree. Due to these standards, many were sent back to the adoption agencies to be rehomed again and again until they reached a certain age. Then they were put down to make room for more returned hybrids.

You were working with the government on a program that could fix the hybrid rehoming issue. Having presented your idea to the board they seemed interested and were willing to grant you a small fund if you could give them the results they needed. They gave you a handful of Hybrids, one being Jimin the poster boy for the government. He was genetically modified to create a male calico with the classic calico print which was only found on females.

They succeeded and though Jimin was a male his features were more on the feminine side making him seem too androgynous but not what the market wanted. He was left to be used as a model on new billboards and television advertisements for government services and legislations regarding Hybrids.

Another participant was your neighbor’s hybrid, Taehyung. He was a golden retriever and was volunteered by his owner, an older gentleman who recently lost his wife. He was worried for the young hybrid that one day when he shall pass he will be alone and scared. You were quick to guarantee him a place in the program to help him become more self-sufficient in case anything should happen.

You were currently packing your things, not that there was much, living in such a tiny apartment. However, you were preparing for a call within the week regarding moving into a larger government-funded home where you could comfortably house the number of new participants of your trial program. The place was fully furnished with everything a large family of hybrids would need, all you had to bring was your clothes. Everything else was paid for to create the perfect environment for the hybrids. Rent, utilities, food, and anything the hybrids needed were all reimbursed by the government.

Since it would be a few days before you would hear anything, you thought it was best to start thinking of activities for the hybrids to get to know one another. Whilst also basking in your last moments of freedom before devoting yourself to the program. 

On that note, you had finally finished packing and decided to spend your hybrid-free moments treating yourself to some food. Pulled from your thoughts of a delicious omelet by a loud ping from your jean pocket. A reminder on your phone in bold letters.

H-week!

Today marked the first day of your heat, this explained the nagging twinge in your back you had been ignoring, you thought it was from hunching over to pack. Searching your top draw you saw the empty blister packet of heat suppressants, great another thing to add to your ever-growing to-do list. The pharmacy was a little further than the restaurant you wished to visit but not too far out of the way. So you set off hoping to get back in time before it gets too dark, your eyes did funny things at night.

See you weren’t exactly human yourself, you were an experiment. The world was creating new hybrids and well, you were genetically modified within the same year as Jimin. Supposed to be the new designer breed the ‘Fox-Hybrid’. The problem was it didn’t work, you were born entirely human. Sure you were a bit more agile, and your ability to hear and smell things was better than normal. You were still essentially human.

Once a month since you were thirteen, you would get a strange feeling in your lower abdomen. When you discussed it with the scientists for your check-up, they had explained it was a heat. Whilst foxes usually had a heat once a year lasting three days, yours would happen once a month lasting three days but a lot milder. 

Since that day you have taken a low dose heat suppressant to nullify any pheromones. You were grateful because it wasn’t as painful or as long as a human period, but it wasn’t as debilitating or humiliating as a real heat.

You had grown up seeing Jimin on occasion and were familiar with how debilitating hybrid heats and ruts were. Even so, the two of you became friends, both failed attempts at modification.

Though you never understood why they said fox hybrids didn’t exist, you had seen them. Sometimes in grocery stores, restaurants, or nightclubs. They would be there, they would wink at you or wave, give you a smirk with a twitch of their ears or a swish of their tail. Were they mocking you for being a defect?

The only good thing accompanying your long journey was the music humming softly in your headphones. Used to drown out the loud sounds of the city, as your ears were sensitive. It also helped you ignore the side-eyes from Hybrids who would not so subtly sniff the air as you passed. 

You caught a flash of orange and looked across the street. A simple fruit shop that had a colorful awning flapping in the gentle breeze.

Moving around the store was a shopkeeper in a green apron, shirt, with his bronze hair sticking out underneath a matching cap. He was putting down a tray of banana’s and as he stood, a pair of ears and a bottle brush-like tail were visible, he turned as if sensing your presence and locked eyes with you, tipping his cap. He dusted his hands on his apron, leaving you shocked. A Fox hybrid in public! No one else seemed amazed or even spared him a glance. How could no one see this?

It was like a scene from a movie, as a truck drove past leaving the man looking completely innocent and human talking to a few ladies. He was quite good-looking and charming, but there was no sign of a tail. The women were quick to fall for him, purchasing an oddly large selection of fruits and vegetables. You turned back to the path ahead of you shaking your head in disbelief, before continuing on your way to the pharmacy.

The pharmacy catered for humans and hybrids alike and was never too busy. Which made it your favorite store to collect your script from, as there was little to no waiting time. Handing over the script, you strolled around the store wondering what you would need for these Hybrids. Toothbrushes? Combs? If they had a lot of body hair would they need the silky coat shampoo formula or the soft fur body wash? Placing the hybrid shampoo and body wash back on the shelf you shook your head honestly this was overwhelming. 

Rubbing your aching stomach, you were too uncomfortable to really get into hybrid care right now. You wouldn’t have to worry about any other heats apart from your own as it was decided with the board they would all be male hybrid participants. This stemmed from Taehyung being already a willing participant from the start, they thought it best not to mix male and female hybrids.

You would however have to deal with their ruts, albeit once or twice a year. You chewed your lip in thought pausing in the makeup section of the store. You caught your reflection in the small mirror and preened thoughtfully, your eyes were expressive and angular, your hair due to the modification was a brilliant copper.

You were quite beautiful, eerily so, like the man at the fruit shop. Your features were so similar. Even though you were a defect and he was the real deal. “Ma’am your order is ready.”

Turning surprised you grew hot in embarrassment, stammering to make an excuse, “Sorry, I was just thinking about a really strange fox hybrid at the fruit shop.”

Many occupants in the store turned confused and you heard an old man say, “Fox hybrids don’t exist, they are sinister creatures and not to be meddled with”

“She must be a conspiracy theorist,” one woman whispered to her hybrid snake who was donating venom for anti-venom.

Paying for the medication you left quickly and took one of the small pills as you stepped out of the store. Why didn’t anyone else see them?

You headed back towards your home, not forgetting the reason for your trip. You were excited about an omelet at your favorite restaurant when two apples came rolling across the pavement. 

They rolled towards you, quickly picking them up you carried them inside the store, “excuse me, sir you dropped some of your apples,” You saw his shadow in the darkened store, two pointed ears, and the flick of a tail.

“Are you a fox hybrid?” You asked curiously and he laughed. It was strange like snickering but at a pitch that was not fit for a grown man, like a child’s giggle sharper with a few squeals, or like a bird chittering. You know the sound. He was Gekkering like a fox.

“Thank you,” he took the apples gesturing you over to the side, “let me get you some blueberries, they are my favorite.” 

“Oh thank you, sir, how much do I owe you?”

He shook his head, thrusting a black plastic bag into your hands, “It’s okay, we have to look out for one another.” 

What a strange man…

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[kanerallels]

And the imagine your OTP late night drive one with Kaider!

Absolutely! It's a little short, but I still like it

Pairing: Kai/Linh Cinder

Rating: G (warning for cyborg discrimination)

Word count: 2,361

Read on AO3!

Generally speaking, Cinder enjoyed her job at Mackenzie Mechanics. It paid pretty well, she got to do what she loved, and her boss let her tinker with her side project— an old truck that she was being paid to fix up— in her free time.

But every so often, she had one of those days. A day where nothing seemed to work out. Where she screwed up her work halfway through, had to redo the whole thing, and was so far from finishing everything on her to-do list. Days that were only made better by dealing with their customers.

The regulars were fine. Cinder was used to them, and they didn’t give her metal hand a second look. But she wasn’t always dealing with regulars.

She could handle the double takes. She dealt with the nosy questions with a pointed change in subject, a glare when necessary, or a very blunt “none of your business” when she had to. Those were commonplace. Cinder saw a lot of them.

It was the ones who acted disgusted, who refused to have anything to do with a cyborg— which was common enough. Cyborgs were still a controversial subject, and also fairly rare. The only reason Cinder had been ‘lucky’ enough to receive the advanced prosthetics and synthetic body parts was because of her birth family’s connections. Which wasn’t something she spared much thought on these days. She tried not to think about most of it, in all honesty. She had her people, who saw who she was and loved her.

Unfortunately, there were still a lot of people who thought otherwise. And of course today, when Cinder was wrangling a car with a mystery ailment, two of her co-workers were out sick, and she’d nearly been late for work herself. So having to grit her teeth and wait through some rich woman drone on about how cyborgs were an abomination? Definitely didn’t help.

She was considering throwing a wrench at the woman’s head when the door to the shop swung open. “Cinder, you empress of engines, you sovereign of steering— whoops, you’re busy.”

“Hey, Thorne,” Cinder said, trying not to sound relieved. For one thing, it would be incredibly annoying if Carswell Thorne thought she was relieved to see him. For another, it would clue him in that something was wrong, and she didn’t want that, either.

Clearing her throat, the woman in front of Cinder tapped her fingernails impatiently on the counter. Cinder gritted her teeth at the sound. “I doubt you’re being paid to socialize, cyborg. Or did you short a circuit in there?”

“No, ma’am,” Cinder muttered. She could feel Thorne’s gaze on them, but ignored him.

“Good. Now, get a move on with that oil change. I don’t have all day.”

Cinder seriously doubted she’d ever changed someone’s oil that fast in her life. Fifteen minutes later the woman was driving off, and Cinder was developing a headache. She came back up front to find Thorne still waiting. “Oh, you’re still here,” she said, not even bothering to sound enthusiastic.

“You’d miss me if I hadn’t stayed,” Thorne said with a smirk.

“Unlikely. What do you want?”

Thorne hesitated for a heartbeat, then said, “Well, I was here to check on the Rampion— how is she?”

“Your truck is coming slowly but surely,” Cinder told him. She’d taken on the job of restoring an old truck for Thorne that he’d nicknamed the Rampion for some reason she couldn’t even begin to fathom. It was challenging, but fun. And while Thorne had been a total pain when she’d first met him… he still was. Sometimes. He’d actually grown on her a lot, but Cinder didn’t like to give him more encouragement than he needed. “I haven’t had time to work on it today, but I found some parts on my last trip to the junkyard that just might be the turning point for it. I’ll give it some time this weekend.”

“Sweet. Okay, not to distract from this incredibly important subject, but—”

“Don’t,” Cinder told him.

“I’m just wondering if you’re okay!” Thorne said. “That lady seemed like a real piece of work. Who even was she?”

“Some out of towner?” Cinder shrugged. “Don’t know. But she needed an oil change.”

“Needed an attitude change,” Thorne muttered, his normal cheerful and cocky expression dark. “Want me to go after her and put sugar in her gas tank when she stops? That does nasty stuff to the inside of a car— or so I hear.”

“I definitely do not,” Cinder said emphatically. “I would like you to drop the subject.”

“But she was such a—”

“Thorne. Please, just drop it.” Cinder hated the frustration and emotion tightening her voice, hated the fact that Thorne could hear it. Inhaling a quick breath, she waited until the knot in her throat loosened slightly, then said, “Do you want to see the Rampion?”

Thorne hesitated, then reluctantly accepted the subject change. “Uh… yeah, why not? Give me the rundown— how’s she doing?”

Cinder led him to the back where the Rampion was sequestered, explaining what she’d worked on lately. She knew Thorne didn’t really understand most of it, but she didn’t mind. Talking about it was almost soothing, pulling her mind away from the interaction with the customer earlier.

But eventually, Thorne left, and Cinder had to get back to work. The day didn’t necessarily improve from there, and when her work day was finally over, she was exhausted.

When she got home, her roommate and best friend Iko figured out something was wrong almost instantly. “Are you okay?” she asked, frowning at Cinder as they finished making a quick dinner of mac and cheese from the box. “You look ready to punch a hole in the wall. Did something happen at work?”

“Just a long day,” Cinder muttered, grabbing her bowl and heading into the living room. She was more than ready to drop onto the couch and let the rest of the day fade away as she watched one of Iko’s cheesy dramas with her.

However, they were only halfway through an episode when there was a knock at the door. Frowning, Cinder glanced at Iko as she paused the show. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Nope. But this is a great time for a snack break, because we’re almost at my FAVORITE scene in this episode. I’ll get snacks, you chase off whoever’s at the door.” Iko hopped up from the couch and darted into the kitchen.

Cinder hauled herself off of the couch with a reluctant groan and headed towards the door. Whoever that is better have a really good reason for interrupting my downtime, or I’m gonna be—

She yanked open the door, and her eyes went wide at the sight of the person on the other side. “Kai?”

Her boyfriend Kai grinned at her. “Hey.”

“Cinder, who’s at the—” Iko stuck her head around the corner, and her eyes went wide at the sight. “Oooh!! Hey, Kai!”

“Hey, Iko.” Glancing at Cinder, Kai said, “Um, if I’m interrupting something, I can leave. But I was wondering if you might want to go out for a drive with me?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, Cinder said, “I thought you had plans tonight. Weren’t you and Thorne—” she stopped abruptly. “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing,” Kai assured her hastily. “He did cancel on me, though, and heavily implied that I should spend the time with you. Not that I needed a suggestion to come see you.” He paused, glancing over Cinder at Iko and the room behind them. “But if this is a bad time—”

“Oh, stars no,” Iko assured him. “Take her, she’s been in an awful mood all day.” Cinder glanced back at her, starting to respond, and her friend held up her hand. “No buts. I love you like a sister, and I’m lovingly telling you to get out of this house until you talk to Kai and feel better.”

“Fine,” Cinder said with a huff of annoyance that was mostly feigned.

She knew Kai could tell by his grin. “I’ll have her home by ten,” he told Iko as Cinder yanked on an old hoodie and stuffed her feet in her shoes.

“Please don’t,” she said, shooting Cinder a wink. “Have fun!”

Kai’s hand slipped around Cinder’s as he tugged her towards the door, and Cinder followed as she responded, “I’ll do my best.”

They got into Kai’s car, and started down the highway. For a while, neither of them spoke as Kai drove. Finally, Kai asked quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters if you’re upset.”

Letting out a sigh, Cinder grumbled, “Why do you have to be so… you sometimes?”

“I was under the impression that was why you liked me,” Kai teased her gently.

Feeling a tiny smile crossing her face, Cinder said, “Point taken.” She paused for a moment, then said, “It was a long day. And there was this customer at work…” Slowly, she told Kai about the woman, spilling out the whole story. He listened without interrupting, the crease in his forehead and the set of his jaw the only signs of his emotion.

When she finished, he sighed softly. “I hate that people do this to you.”

Letting out a mirthless snort, Cinder said, “You’re not the only one.” Biting her lip, she said, “Is it weird that sometimes I almost forget about it? Forget about how other people look at him? It’s just… you never look at me like that. You, or Iko, or Thorne, or any of the others. But then I get a lovely reminder of reality.” Slumping back into her seat, she glared at the windshield.

“It’s not weird,” Kai said ruefully. “I wish you didn’t have to deal with it. I wish the rest of the world could see you like I do.”

Despite herself, Cinder grinned slightly. “Not sure that’d be a good thing. There are only so many times I want someone to repeatedly come into my shop after sabotaging their own car so they can see me.”

“Point,” Kai said with a chuckle. “And may I remind you, I didn’t actually sabotage my car?”

“Right, you paid someone to sabotage it for you,” Cinder said, smirking. “Because you didn’t want to get your hands dirty.”

“No! Because I didn’t know how.”

Cinder couldn’t hold back a laugh at that, and Kai grinned triumphantly. “I knew I could make you laugh.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Still, I maintain my point.” Shooting her a smile that warmed her to her core, Kai said, “If the rest of the world could see the smart, snarky, gorgeous woman that I see… some of them might actually be more afraid of you. But for the right reason.”

“You’re such a dork,” Cinder said affectionately. Her heart already felt a little lighter from talking with him— but it always really did. It sounded stupid to say out loud, but Kai made things better without even trying.

“Do you want to head back?” Kai asked her, and Cinder shook her head.

“Not unless you want to.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Kai said, shooting her a smile.

They exited the highway a few minutes later, and Kai drove through Culver's and bought them both milkshakes. They parked in the back of the parking lot and sat eating ice cream and listening to the radio. Kai pretended to scold Cinder for putting her feet on the dash, and Cinder teased him, and they sang along to the mix CD that Kai still had in his car from when they’d gone on a roadtrip to visit friends with Thorne, Iko and Cress.

They sat like that for hours, talking and laughing and singing and flirting and a little kissing. It was… nice. More than just nice, Cinder corrected herself as she and Kai sang along to Paramore, Twenty-One Pilots, and whatever else Cress and Iko had put on the CD. She loved being with him, loved that they didn’t have to be doing anything. They were together, and that was more than enough.

Eventually, when they’d both eaten more ice cream than they probably should have and the restaurant had long since shut down, Kai glanced at the clock. “We’d better get you home,” he said. “You’ve got work tomorrow, right?”

Cinder looked at the clock and winced at the sight of the time. “Yeah, I do— we probably should head back.”

Shifting the car into drive, Kai eased out of the parking lot as he said, “Sorry I kept you up so late.”

“Don’t apologize,” Cinder said, covering a yawn. “Trust me, this is a lot more fun than how I thought I was gonna spend my evening.” She paused, then added, “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“Any time.” Kai sent her a warm smile that made a flutter zip through her, the kind that only Kai made her feel.

They arrived back at the house about half an hour later, slipping inside as stealthily as possible. The house was dark— Iko had clearly long since gone to bed— and Cinder ran into a chair and what she thought was a coffee table before she made it to a light switch.

She swore quietly as she flicked on one of the lights, and Kai snorted. “So this is the kind of language you use when I’m not around.”

“I use it when you’re around, too— and what exactly did you expect?” Cinder asked, dropping onto the couch. Kai settled next to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. Snuggling against him, she let her eyelids drift shut and mumbled, “Thanks, Kai. You made it better.”

She felt him press a kiss against her forehead as he whispered, “That was the goal.”

Cinder could feel herself drifting off against Kai’s chest, and she let it happen. Tomorrow would be better— she’d be low on sleep, but she’d have a full heart and be humming Paramore all day. And she’d take that over sleep any day.

[nalgenewhore]

blossom's blooming

elide x lorcan, modern au, fluff + flowers, word count: 1582

Up above in the blue sky, the sun was shining and it cast a glorious warmth upon the city. The cool breeze from the Florine River kept the citizens from being baked alive as they strolled home. Elide, who was a devout public transit kind of girl, decided that she would enjoy the early June weather by walking home.

Usually, she’d have her headphones on, playing whichever tune she was obsessing over at that moment, but today she wanted to enjoy the human conversations around her. Elide was walking through Orynth’s vibrant artisan quarter, each shop cuter than the last. She stopped to peruse a few but didn’t end up buying anything until she saw Viola, a darling little florist booth.

She knew the owner, Lyria, quite well and spotted her in the back by the counter, wrapping up someone’s bouquet. “Lia?”

The woman startled, most likely having forgotten that anyone could walk right into her shop. Her shock melted into kind familiarity, “Elide, hello!” She snipped the ribbon she’d tied with a pair of small scissors and made her way through the rows of flora to greet Elide. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Elide said, looking around at the various flowers and other plants. “How are you, how’s everything?”

They spent a few minutes catching up as they hadn’t seen each for some time. Lyria led Elide to the back so she could continue with her orders and their conversation wouldn’t be interrupted. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Elide tilted her head to the side, eyes on a bundle of delicate harebells. The same flowers were native to the Northern Isles, where Lorcan had grown up. “You know, do you think you could make something small with those harebells?”

Lyria turned to look at the flowers in question and smiled, nodding as she moved to pick the bucket up. “Of course. Are they for Lorcan, then?”

The dark-haired woman nodded, a smitten smile twisting her lips. “Yeah. He likes those flowers.” The harebells had a cup-like quality, their pale blue and purple petals bending down.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

Elide gave Lyria complete licence to arrange which flowers she saw fit and ten minutes later, she’d paid for an elegant bouquet, nothing too big or full. She thanked Lyria and carried them in the crook of her arm for the rest of her walk home.

The apartment was locked when she got home, meaning that Lorcan was either still at work or on his way home. He had this habit of never locking the door behind him and sometimes not even closing it. The first time Elide had arrived home to the door open, she’d thought that something horrible had happened, like Lorcan had surprised a couple robbers who’d then killed him.

She put her work bag down, toed her shoes off, and walked into their kitchen. Elide laid the flowers down on the counter and carefully climbed up onto the surface to reach the vase up above the cabinet. She hopped down, landing delicately.

Elide filled the vase up and mixed in the packet of powder that came with the bouquet before snipping the ties. She put the flowers in and fussed over them for a couple minutes until they were arranged to her liking.

<3<3<3

Lorcan parked in front of their building, as they didn’t have a parking garage, and stepped out with his bag, locking the car behind him.

He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he approached the lobby doors and pressed the button next to his unit number.

A few moments later, his girlfriend’s voice crackled through, “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

“Oh, hey, you.”

Lorcan arched his brow up, “You sound surprised. Expecting someone else, were you?”

Elide laughed, “Like what, a sugar daddy?”

“s���not unheard of, Lee. How else would we afford our extravagant lifestyle?”

“Gods, you’re ridiculous,” she muttered, clicking her tongue. The lobby doors buzzed as they unlocked. “Get up here already, dummy.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lorcan moved towards the doors and pulled them open, walking towards the mailboxes. Elide often forgot to check theirs, so he’d developed a habit of checking them himself. He unlocked the metal door and pulled out a stack of envelopes, shifting through them as he walked towards the elevator.

Most of them were bills and notices, nothing interesting. Lorcan pressed the elevator button and the doors opened a moment later. He stepped in and glanced around to see if anyone else needed to get on. When he didn’t see anyone, Lorcan pushed the knob for the fifth floor and leaned against the back wall.

The ride was smooth and silent save for the whirrs of the cables and wheels of the elevator. A short time later, the ride stopped and the doors slid open. He walked out, nodding in greeting to one of their neighbours.

Lorcan arrived at their apartment and knocked on the door. The sound of Elide’s footsteps padding down the hall made him smile, one corner of his mouth higher than the other.

The lock clicked as it was turned and then the door was opened, revealing a small woman. She beamed up at him, lifting onto the tips of her toes as she slid her hands up his arms. “Hi.”

He grinned, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her in, and he bent his head to meet her kiss. “Hi.”

Elide pulled away first, her slender eyes bright. “Hi.”

“You said that already,” he told her, unable to stop himself from stealing one last kiss. “Hi.”

She pushed herself out of his hold and tugged him inside, leaning around him to shut the door. “How was your day?”

Lorcan shrugged, putting his bag down. “Nothing special. You?”

“It was good. I walked home ‘cause it was so nice outside.”

They continued to chat about banal things as they moved further into the apartment. Lorcan went to their bedroom to change and picked up her clothes to toss them in the laundry bin alongside his. As he walked out, he twisted his long hair into a mass on the top of his head and secured it with an old elastic.

Elide was at the stove, cooking something. She didn’t notice him until he slipped his arms around her waist, curving his shoulders to rest his chin on her head. “Whatcha making?”

“Pasta,” she said, resting her hand on his forearm. “Sounds good?”

Lorcan nodded, moving to kiss the top of her head. “Mm-hmm.”

“Did you see the table? I got something.”

He stood up straight, turning to look at their dining table. A vase was sitting in the middle, carrying a bundle of pale blue and white flowers. Lorcan stepped away from Elide, assuming that they’d been a gift for her and that there would be a note somewhere near them. He looked around the base of the container, found nothing, and started looking through the flowers.

Still, he didn’t find anything and began to look at them suspiciously, head tilted to the side.

Elide turned away from the stove to watch him, an amused smile tugging across her face.

Lorcan delicately fingered one of the harebells, seeming wary. “Nice flowers.”

“Do you like them?”

He nodded, making a noise in the back of his throat. “Did I forget something? Your birthday’s not for another two weeks, sweetheart.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, you didn’t forget anything. I bought them – they’re for you.”

His head snapped up and his eyes widened. “They’re mine? My flowers?”

Elide nodded, propping her hand on her hip. “Yeah, yours.” Slowly, curiously, Lorcan looked at the bouquet again. Incredulous laughter bubbled up from her lips, “What, it’s like you’ve never gotten flowers before!”

He could feel his cheeks heating, for whatever reason. Lorcan flicked his eyes to the side, mumbling as he shifted on his feet, “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Hmm? Will you say that again?” She moved closer.

“I’ve never gotten flowers before,” he repeated, his voice louder. “Nobody ever bought them for me.”

“Wait, really?” Elide asked.

He nodded, slowly lifting his eyes to hers. “Is that bad?”

She shrugged, putting the wooden spoon down on the counter. Elide moved towards him, “I don’t know, I like getting flowers. Everyone should get them, aren’t they nice?” She fit herself against his side, resting her hand against his lower stomach.

Lorcan curled his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “They are. Thank you, sweetheart.” He reached out to touch them again, “You know, we have these flowers at home.”

“I know, that’s why I got them,” she said, leaning the side of her head against him. “Lyria had them.”

“Can we get more?”

Elide laughed gently and nodded, “Of course we can.”

<3<3<3

the cadre

Lorcan: Photo Attachment Lorcan: lee got me flowers. Sent 20:13

Fenrys: WHAT. Fenrys: Nehemia never gets me flowers Fenrys: I want flowers those look cool Sent 20:16

Vaughan: lmao con buys me flowers every week 😎 Vaughan: the gays stay winning 🥶😈💪 Connall “❤” This Message Sent 20:17

Fenrys: shut UP VAUGHAN NO ONE CARES ABOUT UR FLOWERS WE CARE ABOUT LORCANS FLOWERS Sent 20:17

Rowan: Wait guys can get flowers? Rowan: BRB. Have to ask Aelin something. Sent 20:19

Connall: ask her where she got those im bored of my florist Sent 20:21

<3<3<3

@mythicaitt @eyllweambassador @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior  @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @jadeaffliction @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @thegoddessofyou @claralady @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @gracie-rosee @myshadowsingeraz @firestarsandseneschals @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @hellasblessed @mariamuses @darklesmylove @adelzd-bookblr @rowaelinismyotp @sassyhobbits @swankii-art-teacher @januarystears

[spnae]

Chapter 19 Baby Blue

“Good heavens woman, I’m not sure I’ll be able to move tomorrow after all that,” Giles was saying as he and Zara got off the elevator back in the entryway.

“Just think, I used to get paid good money for services like that,” she grinned. Zara had put him through his paces on the stairs and gave him some exercises to do to help him with his recovery.

“What ever made you leave physical therapy in the first place? Clearly you were good at your job.”

“I changed a lot of things after my husband died. I loved PT, loved helping people but I just needed something different. The music shop might have its slow days but I do well enough. I love the sense of community I get where I’m at. Heck I even love the tourists who come in and clean out my shelves. I do online sales too and it’s more than enough to keep me above water. Especially since my daughter is still hanging on for the time being. She’s saving up for a place of her own. If she keeps booking appointments the way she has been she’ll have it in no time.”

Zara was just about to leave when the front door opened. Faith and Callum walked in.

Callum was a little taken aback to see Zara there, “Mrs. Cambell? What are you doing here?”

Zara laughed, “Bloody hell Callum. How many times have I told you to call me Zara.”

“Sorry ma’am old habits. I was just surprised to see you here.”

“Likewise, I’m here visiting a friend, what are you doing here?”

Callum hesitated and looked at Faith, “My girlfriend lives here,” he said a little bashfully.

Zara eyed him approvingly, “I see. Nice choice Faith.”

Faith adjusted the large paper bag in her arms to shake Zara’s hand, “Good to see you again,” Faith glanced at Callum, “Yeah I kinda think I might keep this one.”

“Had a rough start, but he’s really turned himself around. Grown into a fine young man now.”

Callum laughed, “Oh come off it, Mrs— eh, Zara. You know you love me.”

“Aye, the son I never had.”

“So who’s at the shop? Is Gemma watching it for you?” Callum asked.

“Oh aye,” Zara looked at her watch, “Speaking of Gemma, I really must be off. She has an appointment and I need to get back to the shop before she has to leave.”

Callum moved from in front of the door inadvertently pulling Faith with him, “Alright then, tell her I might have some work coming her way.”

“Is that so Callum? I thought you decided you were done after that last one.”

“Oh I am done for now, this is for the Lass here. She’s got one started, she wants to have finished.”

“He showed you my daughter’s handy work did he?” Zara grinned mischievously.

Faith nodded, “She’s an amazing artist. I’m pretty sold, I want her to finish this one.”

Giles looked puzzled, “You don’t mean the one on your arm do you?”

Faith laughed, “Nah, this one isn’t anywhere I’m advertising to you.”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

“Oh Rupert, as much as I like you now, sometimes seeing a little hint of the old ‘Ripper’ wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” Zara grinned. Then she straightened up, “Alright children, I’ll tell Gemma to expect your call. I’ll see you later, Rupert. Don’t forget what I said about that leg.”

“Don’t worry about me. Thank you for the torture.”

“Not in front of the kids,” she winked, kissing him on the cheek. Soon Zara was back in her car heading into town.

Callum followed Giles into the living room. While Faith put the bag of blood in the refrigerator next to the smaller one Ursula had gotten earlier. In the living room Giles settled himself down on one couch and propped up his leg.

“I trust you two had a good evening,” Giles said a little dryly.

“The best. She’s quite a woman.”

“Yes she is. She has grown to be quite important to us here.”

“Faith told me how you’ve become like family to her. That’s important, family is everything.”

Giles smiled, “Well if Zara approves of you I can certainly give you a chance.”

“Not sure Faith would give you a choice on that. Not sure I would either come to that.”

Faith came back in and sat down next to Callum on the other couch.

“So Zara is your friend Gemma’s mom. Crazy,” Faith said, turning to Callum.

“I’ll say. Mrs. Cambell is one of my mum's closest friends. She’s bound to tell her I was here. Gemma and I were thick as thieves when we were young, still are really.”

“I bet she’s got some stories.”

“That she does.”

“So is this friend, just a friend or—“

“Never serious if that’s what you’re getting at. We grew up together, tested the waters when we were teenagers but that’s about it. We’re much better as friends.”

“She was your first wasn’t she?” Faith punched him lightly in the arm jokingly.

“Well yeah, course she was, not like it’s a big deal now though.”

“Oh I really need to talk to this chick,” she laughed.

“Oh God, I am definitely in trouble now,” he laughed.

Faith patted his leg and turned to Giles who was laying with his glasses off and his arm over his eyes, “How was your visit with your special friend, Giles?”

“She reminded me she had originally been trained as a physical therapist.”

Callum laughed, “Oh, she got you didn’t she? She worked with my dad when he hurt his back. The doctors told him he’d need to walk with a cane after his surgery. Mrs. C, worked him hard but he’d be the first to tell you it was worth it. He’s still working and plays with his grandkids without a cane.”

“And can pick you up.”

“Never know he ever had a problem at all.”

“Oh I’m sure. Right now my whole body hurts.”

“Do you need one of your pain pills?” Faith asked.

“No, no. I’m alright. I’ll be fine with a little rest.”

“Where’s the baby?”

“We didn’t want Zara seeing him so Buffy had the girls take him upstairs. I think he’s in the fourth room.”

“And Buffy and Spike?”

“Probably upstairs, I haven’t seen them since Zara got here.”

“Alright that’s fine. Is there anything you need before we head up there ourselves?”

“I think I have everything I need at the moment. That little session with Zara reminded me that I really must be getting things for myself as much as possible. I’ll call out if I need help with something.”

“Might have to call loud. Come on Cal, you want to see what a demon baby looks like?”

Giles clicked his tongue, “Now really Faith the child is not a sideshow freak.”

“Never said it was, just thought Callum might like to see one. I’m kind of curious myself. I haven’t seen too many. They’re usually pretty gnarly.”

“Most demons don’t reproduce in what we would call ‘the traditional way’, but these ones do. The child is actually kind of cute.”

Callum turned to Faith looking at her a little confused, “Do I even want to know what he means by that?”

Faith took a moment before she answered, “Honestly, no. I really don’t think you want to know.”

“Fair enough. Alright, let’s see the little dude.”

“What are we calling the kid anyway?” Faith interjected.

Giles raised his eyebrows a little and replaced his glasses, “I’m not sure we are calling him anything.”

“He’s with the girls, you know he’s got a name by now. We’ll go check it out. This sounds like a nice easy introduction for Callum.”

“Much easier than most, I should say.”

Faith led Callum up to her room checking in on the girls along the way. Callum set down the canvas messenger bag he had with him on the chair. Although he had been upstairs a number of times in a professional capacity this was the first time he had been on the third floor, and in Faith’s room.

“Buffy wasn’t kidding when she said you liked weaponry,” he said, taking in the decor. He raised his eyebrows as he spied the crossbow and swords above the bed, “Those secure?” He asked.

“Oh yeah they’re secure, but you can check them out. I mean I’ve never tested them out with a guy in my bed, I got the swords after my ex split.”

Callum walked over and examined one of them, “I’d say they should hold.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Anyway, business first, then we can settle in.” Faith strode out into the hall and knocked on the door. A moment later the door opened a crack revealing Spike’s pale form. His hair was disheveled and he was only wearing a pair of boxer briefs with little battle axes printed on them.

“What is it, Faith?” Spike grunted.

“Sorry to wake the dead. Where’s Buffy?”

“We were both trying to get some shuteye before taking a shift with little-boy-blue. Oh hey Cal….” he trailed off as he turned his head towards the bed distractedly, “Look I’d better get back over to her. I think she’s having another blasted nightmare. We’ve got an alarm set. Come get us if things go sideways or if Peaches calls.”

“Go get your girl, I’ll check on stuff here.”

“Cheers, love,” Spike said, closing the door on them.

“Peaches?”

“He means Angel,” Faith directed him towards the stairs.

“Peaches though?”

“Yeah I never got that one either. Captain Forehead I get...”

“Takes talent to come up with a good nickname, some of the best don’t make sense to the rest of the world.”

“Are you developing a little man-crush?”

“No, I just appreciate a good nickname, is all.”

“Xander is another one who’s got a knack for it.”

“Now who's that?”

“Buffy’s Mr. Fix-it.”

“Your construction guy, yeah?”

“I might’ve popped his cherry, but he’s her construction guy,” she gave him a wide grin. “Except that Giles has him chasing down a bunch of old safe houses looking for books and artifacts that might help us out. Word is that he is returning to Europe any day now, today or tomorrow maybe. I forget what she told me.”

“The travel bit sounds exciting.”

“I think he just needed some time after everything happened. His girl didn’t make it.”

“Was she a slayer?”

“Nah, ex-vengeance demon. Used to annoy everyone with sex stories about her and Xander.”

“Seriously?”

“Everytime she did, I just shut her up by reminding her who had him first. Got her every time. Kinda feel bad about it now…”

“Still though, doesn’t sound like she had much of a filter.”

Faith shrugged as they reached the top floor, “Ready for this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Faith knocked lightly on the door before letting herself in. The baby was making loud screeching sounds as Ursula was struggling to change his diaper as little blue feet kicked around wildly. She didn’t even notice Faith and Callum in the doorway.

Addison came from behind them from the elevator and rushed into the room “Sorry it took so long, Babe, I almost forgot about the goat's blood and sort of had to start over to add it,” she said in a rush.

Ursula finished changing the little blue baby and put him over her shoulder as Addison handed the bottle over to her along with a quick kiss. They both sat down with him. Ursula adjusted him in her arms, offering the bottle to him tentatively. The baby took the bottle immediately, happily sucking away.

“Aww look, mein Schatz, he is doing just fine now.”

“Looks like the goat's blood is a big hit,” Faith interrupted.

Both girls looked up, “Hey Faith, we didn’t think you’d be back until tomorrow,” Addison said.

Faith shot Callum a rye look, “Yeah I wasn’t going to, but figured I should be closer to the action.”

“Not really much action, just baby care. Never thought we’d be doing this during training.”

The baby finished the bottle in record time. Addison draped a burp cloth over her shoulder and took him from Ursula. She patted his back and the baby let out a little burp with a tiny fireball and a puff of smoke.

“Never saw a baby do that before,” Callum said wide eyed.

“You want to hold him?” Addison asked.

Faith stepped up taking the baby, “Give him here. Ok this is by far the cutest demon I’ve ever seen. Just don’t grow up to kill people ok? I’d hate to have to chop off your head little man.”

“Don’t think that will be a problem with this guy. His kind pretty much avoids human contact altogether according to the books. Although they have been known to drown people and can defend themselves pretty effectively on occasion. Sinking ships and stuff. But you know, most of that is from the olden days. Any more they don’t seem to pop up unless it’s self defense.”

“See I don’t have major problems with that. Kid got a name yet?”

“Yeah, we’ve been calling him Alun, he seems to like it. Don’t you Alun?” Addison crooned.

Faith raised an eyebrow, “Do you mean Alan?”

“Nope, Alun.”

“It’s one of ours, Lass.”

Faith raised an eyebrow.

“Celtic, Lass. Not unheard of.”

“Oh, ehh ok. Alun it is then,” she said bouncing him a little she turned to Callum, “Do you want a turn? This is the tamest first demon encounter you could hope for. Unless you count Spike, but he’s only seriously dangerous to other demons nowadays.”

“I’ll start with the wee one before I get hit with the real thing.”

“You hang around us long enough and you will,” Faith said dryly as she passed the baby to him.

“Hey there buddy-boy,” the baby scrunched up his little face and gave him a dubious look, “Not much different than my nephews really.” With that, Alun started fussing, “See, just like my nephews when they were this young,” he said as he handed the baby back to Addison and Ursula.

The minute Alun was back in Ursula’s arms he settled down and started to giggle, “Sort of makes me think we should do this for real someday, you’d be a great mom,” Addison said as she fixed a strand of Ursula’s chin-length auburn hair.

“You too…” She said leaning in for a kiss.

“Gotta say, looks like you girls got it handled. Buffy and Spike are up to bat next. We’re going to disappear for a while after I check things out around here.”

“I’d say don’t do anything we wouldn’t but you kinda already are,” Ursula smirked.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. Keep it clean in front of the kid. Oh, where are Zari and Wendy?”

“Crashing in with the level threes. Kinda keeping this baby-vill for now.”

“Alright, we’re out.”

“Night, Faith.”

The two of them made their way down to the fourth floor, “Now this looks familiar.”

“You spent enough time up here working on the bathroom. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in Slayer stuff I probably would have been up here watching you work more.”

“I seem to remember you checking in pretty frequently.”

“Couldn’t exactly jump your bones while we were both working.”

“Especially with Angus there the whole time.”

“Might have enjoyed the show,” Faith teased as she checked the rooms. Satisfied that all the girls were present and accounted for within the castle, Faith turned to Callum, “You hungry?”

Callum crooked a smile, “Is that a trick question?”

“I could use a little something, now you mention it.”

Callum bent down to kiss her, pinning her against the wall at the end of the quiet hall. Faith pushed him back a little, “Technically, I’m not even supposed to be back yet,” she grinned.

******************

It was Friday morning when the phone rang. Callum automatically reached out an arm and grabbed the phone. Without looking, he answered gruffly “Hello.”

“Eh— Hello?” Angle hesitated, and checked the number he had dialed, “Is Faith there?

“Who the ruddy hell is—” He started to ask before cutting himself off and looking at the phone in his hand. He put the phone back up to his ear, “Sorry about that, mate. Picked up Faith‘s phone by mistake. You must be, Angel, her American friend coming to visit.”

“Ah, yeah… her American friend. Is Faith there?”

“Course, she is. I’ll get her,” Callum moved the phone away from his face and rolled towards her, “Faith, wake up, Love. Phone for you.”

Faith moaned sleepily, “Tell’em I’m busy… unless it’s Angel.”

He chuckled, “It is Angel, Lass.”

Faith moaned, turning towards Callum, “Shit, I feel like we just went to sleep.”

“Could have stayed at mine, Love.”

“Like we would have slept any more there than here?”

“Fair enough, Lass. Don’t leave your mate hanging on the line there,” Callum smirked. Angel rolled his eyes as he listened to the two of them talking.

Faith took the phone from Callum, “Hey man, what’s up?”

“Making my way to you and Buffy I’m guessing. She sent me a ‘911’ text saying to get to Edinburgh and now she’s not answering her phone. I’m almost to Edinburgh but I don’t know where I’m going from there. There’s also a sunlight issue in play here that’s going to make things tricky if I don’t figure something out quick. Who the hell is that with you anyway?”

“That’s Callum, my guy, you’ll meet him. I bet Buffy and Spike are tied up with the situation we have going on here. We’ve been going in shifts and it’s their turn. We need you to put a stop to it and set things right. Just tell me when and where and we’ll come get you. I’ll bring a blanket.”

“Eh sure, thanks… eh Faith?”

“Yeah?”

“Spike… is he— are they—“

“Yeah man… real serious too. Are you going to be alright man?”

He was silent for a moment, “Is she happy?”

“Any more and I’d barf; no joke.”

“I huhh—“ he cleared his throat, “What’s the problem? Sounds like she’s got all the help she needs, why do you really need me anyway?”

“Kinda a long story, some demons called Minch or something. I’ll fill you in when I see you. Now, when and where?”

“Oh, great… this should be loads of fun,” he grumbled.

************

Angel leaned forward from the back seat of Faith’s blue vintage Volkswagen. “So basically you needed me because Spike is a sucky diplomat?” he said sarcastically, once Faith had filled him in on the situation.

“Well, yeah that and he doesn’t speak the language.”

“He was always a subpar student.”

“Learned plenty from you from what I hear,” Faith snipped.

“Man enough to call for help when he knew he couldn’t do the job himself,” Callum interjected.

Angel sighed, “Look, Callum is it? I appreciate you seem to have something super-duper-special going on here with Faith. But you don’t know me well enough or lived long enough to teach me life lessons. I’ve got 250 years worth of life experience, and you don’t know Spike like I do,” he growled the last sentence.

“Knock it off. He’s not wrong, Angel. So you have history with the guy and can remember when women couldn’t own property, so what?.”

“Or when George II was King.”

“Sure, that too… Angel, man. I love you like family and we need your help with this, so I’m just going to say it. Get your head out of your ass. Maybe learn a new life lesson here since you’re so good at dishing them out. And for the love of sanity remember that zero of this is about Spike and your ex getting it on every chance they get. They’re in love with a capital ‘L’, you need to let it go man. Let her go, because she’s already gone.”

Angel sat back in his cramped seat in the back of the little car, crossed his arms and mumbled something incoherent under his breath. The rest of the drive back to the castle was a quiet one. Callum rested his hand on top of Faith’s, interlacing their fingers on top of the gearshift. She glanced at their fingers and back up at the road with a grin on her face she couldn’t describe. It was simple but powerful and unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

************

It was late afternoon before they got back to the castle. As promised, Faith had supplied Angel with a blanket to protect him from the car to the door.

“Come on in, Angel. Welcome to Slayer Central.”

Angel stepped over the threshold and murmured his thanks. Once inside, Faith eyed Angel critically as he took in his surroundings.

“Angel?”

“Faith?”

“We good?”

Angel bobbed his head, “You and I are good. I can’t make any promises about Spike. We had come to sort of an understanding in LA…”

“And then he and Buffy got together. You must’ve known.”

“I knew he was freaking out because of some nightmares he had about Buffy. Started insisting he had to go find her. I thought he was going nuts the way he was acting, but I probably would have gone with him, if I’d been able to. Sort of hoped that even if he did find Buffy she'd just say ‘thanks for the help’ and send him packing.”

“Like she did with you in Sunnydale?”

“That was a totally different situation—“

“Yeah whatever you got to tell yourself. So you got your choice, you can either crash on the couch down here or the one up in Giles’s room. Personally I would take Giles up on his offer, you’d get a lot less teenage girls wanting to watch TV.”

“I’ll take the quiet one.”

“Good choice.”

“So where is everyone?” Angel asked.

“Probably outside or upstairs. Grab your gear and I’ll give you the dime tour.

***************

Spike stood in the doorway watching Buffy as she laid the baby down for a nap. The little guy had fallen asleep clutching a lock of her hair. Buffy had to carefully pry his little fingers off of her hair to free herself. Once she was free of his tiny grasp she was able to lay him down in the makeshift bassinet and back quietly out of the room. Spike moved into the hall, still watching her as she closed the door quietly.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Drive and work retail for starters,” she smirked, “Ballroom dancing?”

“I’ve seen you dance and I’ve seen you fight. I bet you could handle it if you tried.”

“Says you.”

“I’m serious, you’re really good with the little tike.”

“Funny, considering the only baby experience I have is from when Dawn was a baby… which didn’t actually happen, so that’s just weird.”

“Better than mine.”

She raised an eyebrow and moved towards him, “I am going to pass the baby baton to the next lucky contestants. I think I need some food, are you coming?”

Spike raised a hand caressing her hair, “Love to. Little tike spit up on me earlier. I smell like sodding bloody-vomit and formula, it’s revolting.”

“I was trying not to say anything.”

“You go down, I’ll be along after I take care of this and change.”

Buffy kissed him, “You weren’t so bad in there yourself, you know. I mean yeah there was the puke, and the thing with the fire… but you got it under control.”

“Oh yeah, fire burping baby and you got your hair down.”

“I didn’t have a problem. Maybe he just likes me more.”

“That’s probably it,” he continued looking at her for a long moment.

“Earth to Spike. You didn’t go catatonic on me did you? Because I’m pretty sure we haven’t got this mind thing figured out enough for that.”

Spike chuckled, “I just love seeing you like this, is all. Just want to commit it to memory.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” she reached up to kiss him, “Even if there is another super hot vampire staying with us.”

Their lips met and Spike began to deepen the kiss when Buffy started to pull away, “Umm, Honey, yeah. You were right about the bloody-vomit and formula thing. Super gross,” she patted him on the chest, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Tried to warn you,” he smirked. He continued to watch her as she headed downstairs.

[azucanela]

HOME PT. 1 | ZUKO

HOME MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: In which Zuko has a chance to go home.

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: blood, weapons, fights, death threats

A/N: we love zuko in this house, also send stuff into my ask box im bored and need ideas to write kashdkfkjasdhlf 

When Zuko was banished, it seemed that Ozai was more upset that Y/N intended to go with him, than at the pain he had caused his son. She was a talented firebender, capable of defeating even Azula, his prodigal daughter, in an Agni Kai. Her tactics and strategies, despite her young age, proved effective time and time again. She had the makings of a great General for the Fire Nation Army, and Ozai saw it as a waste for her to search for someone who would likely never be found. Not when Y/N L/N had so much potential. 

Y/N just saw it as proof that Ozai never truly cared for his son. His recognition of the impossible task he had bestowed upon his own child.

At the end of the day, her loyalty lied with the prince, so she set sail alongside him and his Uncle, in search of an avatar that had been gone for a century. They had known each other since they were children, when Ozai had taken interest in her natural talent for firebending. She had been raised alongside Zuko and Azula, training with them. But as most knew, Azula had an affinity for inflicting pain to those around her in her free time, so when the time came for a sparring match between Y/N and Azula, the results were deadly.

Ozai decided Y/N would stick around a little longer when she managed to beat Azula that day.

Zuko had never been competitive, not like Azula was. Though he’d asked her for tips on how to improve, and she’d graciously assisted him. And so, a friendship blossomed in the fire of their youth. She became his sparring partner, and as they grew older, his right hand.

She never regretted stepping onto the boat with Zuko the first day of his banishment. But she was beginning to regret ever speaking with him in the first place. He had no goal other than finding the Avatar, it was his sole purpose at this point, even after nearly three years of searching. But there were moments in which she found him rather… peaceful. He was almost the same boy who Y/N had played tag with as a child all those years ago. And in these moments, when she caught a glimpse of the real Zuko, she couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in her chest each time they had an actual conversation. 

One that wasn’t about his never ending quest to find the Avatar.

The conversations they had in the middle of the night, when sleep failed to reach them. The ones they never mentioned when the night was over. Because what happened in Zukos’ room at night, stayed there.

Y/N had only ever needed to knock once and Zuko was opening the door to his room on the ship. She gave him a tight lipped smile as she slipped inside, hoping no one noticed because they both knew what it would look like from an outside perspective. Not that she cared what others thought. What happened between her and Zuko was their business, though nothing ever really happened. He would try to make tea, they would dump the tea because of how bad it tasted, Y/N would remake the tea, and then they would talk.

Sometimes she wished it was more than that though. 

It was a foolish dream to have, she recognized that as she took the teapot before he could even make an attempt to boil the water. “You couldn’t sleep either?” She asked as she began to heat the water with her firebending, holding the pot above her free hand.

Zuko scoffed, sitting back on the mat he referred to as a bed, “no, I just knew you’d be awake.” 

Y/N frowned, “you should’ve gone to bed.” She places the tea leaves into the steaming pot, moving to sit with her legs crossed, across from him on the floor.

“And put the entire ship at risk?” Came his response, his brow raised. 

Y/N laughed lightly, “what are you talking about?” Her head tilts as she looks at him in confusion, grabbing the two solitary teacups on his desk. 

“Last time you were left unattended you nearly blew up our only means of transportation.” He deadpanned. 

She rolled her eyes, looking to him as she spoke, “that was one time-”

Zuko was smiling now, “remember the time you nearly killed that man with a cabbage cart because he-” 

“Okay! I get it, you can stop now.” Y/N exclaimed, cheeks warming as she recalled the event. She handed him his cup of tea, and for a moment she could even forget that the only reason that they were on the ship in the first place was to find the Avatar, for a moment she could forget that Zuko had changed 

His hand grazed hers as he took the cup, mumbling a small, “thank you,” before he took a sip. Looking out the small window of the ship, he realized he would never forget his banishment. His home. He quickly brought his attention back to Y/N, only to realize she was already looking at him. 

She brought herself closer to him on the floor, “what are you thinking about?” She recognized the look on his face, the nostalgia, the pain. 

If he was honest, he was now thinking about the small amount of space between them since she’d moved to be seated beside him on the mat. Though he responded, “home.” 

Y/N hummed in response, taking a sip of her tea, “you miss it?” She asked.

Zuko scoffed, “that’s a dumb question. Of course I miss it. Why wouldn’t I?” Y/N was tempted to tell him that he shouldn’t miss the home that cast him aside for thinking of the best interest of the people. The home that was ruled by the man who scarred him for life. The man he still seeked validation from. 

Instead she shrugged, placing her tea onto the floor of his room, “well I don’t.”

His head snaps up, eyes meeting hers, he looks to her incredulously, “what do you mean you don’t? We’ve been away for so long!” He exclaims, his temper beginning to show. It was rare for him to explode at her like he tended to with other crew members, Iroh had pointed it out to him, and though Zuko shut him down quickly, nobody could deny the accuracy of the statement. But they had grown up there, together. All of his happy memories, all of his dreams, his past and hopefully his future, were all there. Had that all meant nothing to her?

“The Fire Nation was never my home, Prince Zuko.”

He almost flinches when she uses his title. And she quickly changes the subject, though she can feel it lingering in his mind as they have their tea. 

She ended up falling asleep in his cabin after they talked for the rest of the night, awakening in the room she internally groaned, knowing what it would look like when she set foot outside of his room. Being on this ship for so long, she knew her fellow crewmates were looking for some gossip to spice up their lives a bit. Looking around, Y/N realized he wasn’t there. She brought a hand up to rub her temple she sighed when she sat up, deciding she’d go back to her room and get dressed before heading up to the deck.

They’d been coasting around Earth Kingdom waters that recently been put in Fire Nation control, and as she entered the deck of the ship, Y/N realized they had docked on one of the piers. The sea of people around the market made her wonder what the area could have to offer as she turned to look back on the deck, where Iroh had been seated with his Pai Sho board, along with several other crew members loitering in the area. “Good morning Iroh,” she said with a smile as she made her way towards him, “do you happen to know what we’ll be doing today?”

He smiled up at her, gesturing for her to take a seat as he responded, “well Prince Zuko was not very pleasant this morning, so perhaps something more violent.” He took the teapot on his side, “you should probably go look for him before my nephew does something unwise.” Iroh explained with a sigh, refilling his cup. 

Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile, suddenly grateful she hadn’t gotten comfortable and taken a seat when he’d offered it, “of course. He likely intends to do something irrational and stupid.” She cracked her knuckles, aggressively securing her dagger at her side as annoyance bubbled up inside her, “I’ll see you later Iroh.” 

She decided that if thugs hadn’t attacked him yet, she would, stepping off the ship and into the crowd. She slipped between the people with ease, making her way to some of the stands, shopkeepers yelling out deals as they tried to sell some of their products.

And then Y/N got distracted. It started out with a new dagger for her growing collection, then a new holster for said dagger which was now strapped to her leg along with the weapon. Would you look at that, with all this new stuff she was getting she’d definitely need a bag to carry it. Right? Right. Then it was some rare tea leaves for Iroh and new cookbook for the chef that lived on the ship, though it only served as a reminder that she was yet to eat. 

Making her way towards the part of the market that specialized in foods, the aroma filled her nose. Holding the strap of the bag tighter as she maneuvered through the busy market as she’d spotted a stand with a variety of foods. Y/N inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet smell as she reached the stand before picking out what she wanted to purchase. In the corner of her eye she saw cabbages and couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto her face. Bringing out her small pouch of money, she went to hand the shopkeeper some coins, but the old woman shook her head.

“The young man over there paid for your things already Miss.” She explained, “scary guy. Just shoved this bag of money at me and told me to keep the change while you were on the other end of the stand shopping.” Though she ended up pointing in the direction of this elusive ‘young man,’ Y/N already knew who it was as she turned around and saw Zuko brooding against a wall in one of the emptier parts of the market.

She sighed, “thank you ma’am. Have a nice day.”

The old woman nodded, and Y/N put the foods into her bag as well, grateful for the variety of pockets within it as she made her way to where Zuko stood. “She had cabbages. I’m shocked you didn’t attack her.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “where have you been all morning?” She pulled two of the bite-sized pastries she’d bought from the old woman, handing one to Zuko that he begrudgingly accepted as they began to walk down the empty street before taking a bite out of her pastry.

“Around.” Came Zuko’s response as he ate the small pastry. “I just wanted to browse the marketplace.” Y/N took another bite of her pastry as she listened, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. 

She scoffed, “Zuko, I swear.” They were entering a plaza, with a fountain in the center, “it’s my job to know where you are. I’m here to make sure you don’t die during your search for the Avatar, because I’m your right hand, remember?” She exclaimed, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she got side tracked in her search for him,

“You were my right hand. At home. Not that it was your home.” He corrected her pointedly. It was quickly becoming clear that her statement had bothered him, and he wasn’t going to let this go. 

She looked at him incredulously, throwing what was left of her pastry at his chest, causing him to roll his eyes and throw what was left of his own at her face, though she dodged it. Y/N raised her brows, taken aback by this statement and action. He continued to walk as she stopped, dead in her tracks, “oh, is that what this is about? Because if you wanna talk about that we can-” A deep exhale escaped her, followed by silence. 

Zuko’s brows furrowed, “what? Don’t wanna finish the sentence?” He asked as he turned around, only to find that she had a knife pressed to neck, and was surrounded by a group of men.

Of course it had been thugs.

One of them reached to the pouch on her side, yanking it from its place on her belt while the other looked up to Zuko, “you’re going to give us your money, or your little girlfriend is gonna die.” He threatened, pressing the knife harder onto her neck, drawing blood.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N managed to let a bitter laugh escape her despite the situation, “in case you didn’t notice, we had just been arguing. I doubt he has a problem with my death at this point.”

Zuko glared at her, “could you shut up for one minute?” He exclaimed.

“Oh, I think I’m about to be shut up permanently but okay Zuko.” She replied, a sarcastic smile on her face as he narrowed his eyes at her.

He quickly returned his attention to the thugs, who had exchanged looks due to the strangeness of the exchange they were witnessing. “Here’s what’s actually going to happen. You are going to let her go, and if you don’t, you’re going to die.” 

The man with a knife against her throat laughed, “and how are you gonna manage that?” He asked, his four companions moving forward to form a circle around Zuko, weapons in hand. “We’ve got the upper hand.”

“Well, I’m not going to kill you. My little girlfriend will. And,” Zuko paused, eyeing the men surrounding him as he cracked his neck, “you don’t have the upper hand. Not while I have Y/N.”

The man was about to speak when a dagger suddenly pierced his leg, causing him to yelp in pain, dropping the knife he’d held into Y/N’s free hand. She threw the blade in Zuko’s direction and he caught it with ease as he dodged one of the men that lunged at him. 

Y/N kicked her captor’s injured leg, causing him to fall to the ground and allowing her to slip her bag off of her shoulder, wrapping the strap around his neck as she rammed the hilt of the dagger onto his head, effectively knocking him unconscious. Turning around to assist Zuko, she had a deadly realization.

One of the men was missing. 

Everything happened rather quickly after that, she extended her hand, preparing to begin firebending at the man that was attempting to sneak up behind Zuko, except no fire came out. Instead, a whip of water extended from the fountain, slamming him into a nearby building. 

The other three men exchanged looks, stopping their movements momentarily, then taking a few steps back before breaking into a sprint in the opposite direction.

Y/N was still staring at her hand in shock, though her eyes soon rose to find Zuko staring at her as well, the look in his eyes unreadable. A shaky breath escaped her, “guess that conclude your search.” She swallowed nervously, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued, “you can go back home now.” 

“We should get back to the ship.” Came his response. “You need medical attention.” Moving towards her, she took a step back.

“Zuko-”

“You aren’t the Avatar, Y/N.” He stated firmly.

“Really?” She exclaimed, disbelief clear in her voice, “because it sure does look like I am. No one else is capable of bending more than one element!” She pointed out. 

Zuko shook his head, “the Avatar is an Airbender. You were born and raised in the Fire Nation.” He rationalized. “It’s not possible for you to be the Avatar, even if the Airbender is dead, the next Avatar would be from one of the Water Tribes.” Zuko opened his mouth to continue speaking but Y/N cut him off.

“Zuko.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “What are you doing?” 

In that moment he is silent, and she wonders if he’s reconsidering his choice. In actuality, a million thoughts are running through his mind, maybe he could fake her death? Tell them that she died in this town, let her live out her life in peace while he continued a false search for the Avatar. Maybe this was a fluke, or there was a Waterbender hiding in the shadows that saved their lives. Or maybe he was in denial.

The only thing he was sure about was that Y/N wasn’t going back to the Fire Nation a prisoner. 

“Protecting the only home I have left.” 

Because sometimes home isn’t a place. It’s a person. 

You can imagine their shock when they discovered the last Airbender.

a/n: are there two avatars? maybe. is the reader a dual bender? maybe. will we ever find out? idk

[chrisevansszn]

Valleys and Mountains-BONUS 🏔

2.k words

18 and up only ‼

A few weeks later you and Chris sat down with your lawyers to sign the divorce papers. As you both walked out, you noticed a young girl sitting outside the room. You finished up the conversation with your lawyer and headed out. You walked by and the young girl smirked at you. It had to be Cree. You stopped.

“Did you just smirk at me?” You wanted all the smoke.

“I’m just glad this is all finalized.”

“You must be Cree the whore. Well, best of luck to you.”

You turned to Chris.

“Did you tell Cree about you kissing me a few weeks ago when you came to get more stuff?” You faced Cree. “Don’t worry sweetie. I stopped him, but just know he was ready to risk it all.”

You turned and headed down the hall, and into your new single life!

Life was so peaceful after your divorce. You were promoted within your job to Vice-President, you were focused on yourself, and traveling a lot. Your job had your flying to Philadelphia for a work conference for a week. You packed up the night before and knew it would be a long week ahead. You headed to the airport and was running a little late because of traffic but luckily you made it! You only had carry-on luggage and boarded the plane. You seat was in first class, you put your suitcase overhead and sat down in relief.

You got yourself situated and looked over to see who your flying buddy was. IT WAS CHRIS! You absolutely froze! He was just sitting here smiling. The stewardess come over and handed Chris a vodka and tonic.

“Hi Y/N”

You had to gather your words.

“Chris…what a surprised. This is crazy!”

It had been 9 months since you last saw Chris. He looked totally different you barely recognized him! He had grown out his hair and his beard, he gained some weight, and you noticed a little tattoo peeking out of his flannel shirt.

“I know. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to recognize me.” He laughed.

“I mean, you look totally different.”

“Yeah, I change it up from time to time these days.”

You smiled.

“Good for you.”

You ordered two shots of tequila, and some pretzels. The plane finally began to move. It was raining but not a lot so there was no delay. Chris looked so different but yet so good at the same time. You did your best not to look is way. Chris spoke again.

“So, how is everything with you?”

“Busy. Just work and traveling a lot these days. You?”

“Same. I’m just focused on working right now. I thought to take up carpentry.”

“Really? That is so left field, but then again it’s you.”

You both burst out laughing. You wanted to ask about his relationship but hell no. That’s desperate af.

But then….

“Cree and I are not together. I’m living the single life.”

Woah..you wasn’t expecting that one.

“Same. The peace is really amazing.”

You were so happy that shit failed!

You are Chris continue to chat; both were heading to Phly for a work trip. You caught up on family and other things. You were surprised at how mature you were actually being. The two-hour flight went by super-fast. The plane landed and it was time to get off.

“Where are you staying while you are here?”

“The Sheraton that is connected to the airport.”

“Really. Me too.”

Just great. You smiled.

“Nice!”

You said goodbye to Chris, grabbed your suitcase, and headed out. You got your rental car and drove around the corner to the hotel and checked in. You were staying in the presidential suit on the 29thfloor. It had everything you needed and more. The view was amazing!

You ordered room service and called it a night. You could not believe what transpired today.

The first couple of days flew by. You went the conference both days, hiking, and sight-seeing. Day three you decided to stay in but then you got a text. It was from Chris…he kept your number.

*Hey Y/N, I just wanted to know if you would like to have dinner tonight? *

You stared at your phone. Dinner isn’t going to hurt anything right? You waited 10 minutes before accepting his offer.  He texted is room number 2530, wait that’s literally a few rooms down, your room number is 2525. What in the hell!

You sent Chris your room number back and agreed to dinner at 7 P.M. Chris arrived at your room a few before 7PM. He knocked at your door.

“Hey there, come in. I just have to throw on my heels.”

“Heels? For me?”

Your face grimaced.  You turn to him.

“For me.”

Chris giggled.

“Well, you look great.”

“You as well.”

You put on your heels and grabbed your purse.

“Let’s go.”

Chris opened your room door.

“After you.”

You walked by and caught a whiff of his cologne, Guilty Gucci. Some things never change.

You and Chris walked side by side down the hall, down the elevator, and to his rental car that was waiting outside. He opened the door for you. You thanked him and he went around and got in.

“Where are we going?”, you asked.

“To Barclay Prime.”

You looked over at him. That is a very expensive restaurant!

“Oh, that is top tier.”

“Only the best for you.” Chris smiled at you.

You guys arrived at the restaurant and parked valet. You and Chris were escorted to your reserved table that came with an amazing view of the city.

“This is beautiful.”

“It really is. I’m happy you like it.”

Chris ordered a bottle of wine for the table, and you both ordered food.

“Thank you for joining me for dinner.”

“Thank you for having me.”

“You know. I just want to apologize for everything I’ve done to you. I put you through so much and threw our marriage away. I regret it so much. I don’t know what I was thinking. I feel so stupid to this day.”

The waiter brought over your meals. You took a bite.

“Thank you for the apology. You really broke me with the affair. I felt like I had no choice but to retaliate. I wanted to get even….no regrets either.”

Chris looked up from is meal and took a drink of wine. He wasn’t expecting that at all. It got quiet for a minute, but then the conversation turned light. You both were making jokes and reminiscing about old memories, before you knew it three hours had went by.

“We should go. We’ve drank six bottles of wine and we are getting loud.” Chris said.

“Good idea.”

Chris snatched the check before you could put a finger on it and paid and went back to the hotel. Chris walked you to your room.

“Thank you again. I enjoyed it.”

You said leaning with the door opened.

“Same.”

“I’ll see you around then?”

“Yes ma’am. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

You walked in and closed the door behind you. You stood for a second and couldn’t believe that you even went to dinner with Chris. You took off your heels and sat on the bed.

There was a knock at the door. You went to open it.

Chris was standing there, eyes totally on you. He walked in and grabbed your face and as he kissed you slowly and passionate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he pulled you in closer grabbing your ass with the palms of his hands. You moved your hands down and begin to unbuckle his belt. Well…you just opened that door. Chris began to unzip your dress from the back, and it fell down to the floor. He picked you up and you straddled him as he walked you to the bed and laid down. You laid back and watched him undress. He had a new tattoo….what kind of bird is that? He pulled your body to the edge as he got on his knees and pulled your panties off. He devoured you from the inside out while fingering you nice and slow. You ran your fingers through his hair. Chris’ tongue worked magic. You pulled his head up and pull him on top of you.

“A condom now.”, you said.

“Are you serious.”

“Very.”

He grabbed a condom from his wallet and put it on. Chris climbed back on top of you and penetrator your walls so deep. His dick was so thick and long; your back immediately arched. He held you so close as he moved in and out. You could hear him moan in your ear. You licked his neck and moved up to his ear. He begins to stroke faster making you even more wet. Chris flipped you over and you got on top. You rode him with all you had, you wanted him to regret ever cheating on you. Let him know what he is missing! He had one hand on your ass and another around your neck squeezing gently.

“Fuckkkk.”, Chris whispered.

He then flipped you over on your stomach and fucked you from behind as you laid on your stomach. That was is favorite position.

“I’m about to cum. I can’t hold it.”

You lifted up into doggy style to finish. He was hitting all your spots from behind and you both finished at the same time. You laid next to each other. Chris pulled you close and kissed you on your forehead. You both fall asleep instantly.

The next morning when you woke up it took a minute to process everything. Chris was still asleep in the bed. You laid there for a second and watched him sleep. Today was your last night in Philadelphia before you left tomorrow morning. You literally had a free day. You answered some work emails from your phone and looked over to see Chris finally waking up.

“Good Morning.”

“Good Morning.”

“You don’t have a conference today?”

“No. I basically have free day until I fly out tomorrow.”

Chris sat up.

“Let’s go sight-seeing.”

“How did you know that’s what I wanted to do today?”

“Woman…although we aren’t married anymore. I still know you.”

He got out the bed, dick swinging from left to right.

“I’m going to shower and change, and I’ll be right back.”

You nodded. You got up as well to shower and put on some comfortable clothes and tennis shoes. Chris returned about 45 minutes later. You and Chris toured the city, visited landmarks, and did a little shopping. It was honestly nice. The laughter can’t be explained. You both returned to your hotel room and ordered room service and a movie. Yall had sex one more time in the shower before Chris heading back to his room.

“What time is your flight tomorrow?”, Chris asked.

“6:30 in the damn morning.”

“I think the universe maybe telling us something. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You both parted ways and you went to bed. The next morning you boarded your flight and Chris asked someone to switch seats in first class, so he can sit next to you. You two conversed all the way back to Boston. The flight landed and you both walked off the plane together towards the exits.

“Y/N, I was just wondering if maybe we can hang out sometimes.  I really enjoyed this week with you and maybe-“

“No Chris we cannot. I would never rekindle anything with you after what you did to me. Thank you for the sex and the food. Best of luck to you.”

You grabbed your suitcase and walked away from Chris, leaving him behind and never looking back…not once. Back to reality!

@whxre4cevans

@supernatural-fan151

@fallenoutofrose

@itscrazycherryblossomcollection

@coldmuffinpartycloud

@art-estrange

@coffeebooksandfandom

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[merppppppppppppppppp]

Fuck A Fan (Bakugo x Camgirl reader pt. 1)

You had gotten the idea from one of your best friends in the cam industry.

“You sure this will work?”

“Trust me boo,” he had replied, “sometimes the best motivation for a man is a little friendly competition.”

Your bestie had insisted that a fuck a fan contest would be the perfect way to get CallMeKing to finally make good on his unfulfilled promise to see you.

Putting the finishing touches on your flyer, you finally posted the announcement to all social media. You knew CMK was still lurking. So he’d definitely see it. Hopefully, this little contest would be enough to spark his interest, if this failed, you were going to scream.

Because for the first time in your cam career, a man had you chasing him.

The audacity!

To be fair, he did say that he wanted to see you too, but had to keep a low profile due to his career. He promised as soon as worked dialed down you guys would meet up.

Well that had been over a year ago, and not only had you guys not met face to face; he also didn’t seem to check in on you as much anymore.

He still tipped and re-subbed to your page. He had even cash-apped you money for Christmas and your birthday.

But aside from that, there were no more late night, sexting sessions, no more random check ins, no more nude trading.

At first, you brushed it off.

He was apparently a very successful man. Successful men were busy. They couldn’t give you every second of their time. As a successful woman, you could relate to that.

Not to mention, you were a bad bitch and bad bitches did not pine over any man.

PERIODTTT.

Buuuut...when the man in question was fine as hell with boulders for biceps, a big dick, and long money, well...you’d like to think the City Girls, Meg the Stallion, and all the other bad bitches you looked up to would understand your thirst.

“Alright, King,” you sat back in the furry, white computer chair and glared at your laptop screen. “Ball is in your court now.”

“Mr. Ground Zero, can I get a picture too?”

A precocious looking blue haired kid asked. He stared up at Katsuki with wide, hopeful eyes.

Katsuki grimaced.

“Whatever kid, c’mon.”

He leaned down, attempting to keep a safe distance from the walking germ pool, while keeping in the lens of his camera phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks a lot, Mr. Ground Zero!”

The kid giddily ran back to his group of friends.

Kirishima slung his arm around Bakugo’s shoulder, weighing down on his slightly shorter friend.

“Wow, Bakubro, looks like those public relations training classes have really been working, huh?”

“Whatever, I just don’t need anymore shitty press with kids.”

“You still have energy for happy hour with Sero and Me tonight?”

Bakugo replied with a noncommittal shrug. He scrolled absentmindedly through his phone as he and Kirishima headed towards their agencies to call it a day.

He decided to check in on (cam name’s) IG page to see how she was doing.

A pang of longing tugged at him. He missed her. A lot. Sure, she was a cam girl, and being friendly and flirty was her job, but she always brightened his days. With crime picking up steadily over the past year, Bakugo could use her presence in his life now more than ever, unfortunately, nothing in his schedule would permit it.

He was researching a new threat that had been developing in the crime world. Apparently the new mob of villains seemed to have some connections to the crime world in America, and Bakugo found himself flying back and forth to the west for meetings and to make media rounds to help put the public at ease.

His sleep schedule was completely out of whack with all the stress he was under, so any spare moment he wasn’t working, he was sleeping. Which meant no time for his virtual boo thing. Though he did try to make it known he was thinking about her with bill money.

As he flipped through her newest posts, something caught his eyes.

Fuck a fan contest? Winner gets to make content with me at secure location!

What the fuck was this shit?

Whatever it was, he was certainly going to get to the bottom of it when he got home.

CMK: Hey, (cam name) what’s this all about?

Y/N: what does it look like? Fuck a fan contest

CMK: fuck u mean? You don’t do meet ups!

Y/N: 🤷🏾‍♀️ first time for everything.

Anger hummed beneath Bakugo’s skin. Since when did y/n start doing meet ups? She had always told him she didn’t trust her fans as far as she could throw them.

He had encouraged her to not be forthcoming with personal information and never feel like she had to meet up with randos online for money. He would take care of anything she needed before it came to that.

So what was the meaning of this? Had he not been taking good enough care of her? Keeping her bills paid? Her nails and hair done?

Y/N: u entering or what? 👀

CMK: hell no im not entering and neither is anyone else. Now take that shit down.

Y/n: (voice note) first the fuck of all, you don’t tell me what to do. Second the fuck of all, do you know how much money is in this? You ain’t stopping my bag boo. Period! 💅🏾

He was practically seething. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to like that?

Who the fuck did she think she was saying no to?!

His dick stirred in his pants as he re-listened to the voice note of her cursing him out.

CMK: how much does it take to win?

Y/N: just whoever has the most.

CMK tipped $150,000

CMK: now take it the fuck down

Y/N: nobody else has entered yet.

CMK: nobody else up here has the money I have.

Y/N: if you’re not meeting with me, I ain’t takin it down.

CMK: god fucking dammit y/n. Tonight. 9pm. Text me the addy. I’ll have my driver pick you up.

True to his word, CMK had his driver pick you up an hour and a half before the time he had mentioned.

Your knee bounced, causing the black mini dress hugging your shapely thighs to ride up. You pulled it down absentmindedly.

You could count on one hand how many times you had been flown out by one of your fans. It certainly wasn’t a weekly occurrence for you the way it was for other models.

Fear and excitement fluttered in your stomach.

You wondered what the driver thought of you. Heading to this rich and powerful man’s house in the middle of the night.

You had tried to dress up as if you were going to be taken on a fancy date. Your hair styled, silver chandelier earrings dripping from your lobes to match the long silver necklace that dipped between your pushed up cleavage.

If the driver gave two shits, you at least hoped he thought you were going to get a nice meal before getting dicked down.

The community where CMK lived was on the outskirts of town; hidden in a forest of natural and manicured foliage. One could go literal miles between each home before they saw the next one.

You pressed your forehead against the window to take in the flora and fauna, manicured lawns, and huge mansions. So. Many. Styles. Of mansions!

“Here we are ma’am.” the driver announced.

He drove you up a looping, stone drive way that led to a very modern home that reminded you a bit of abstract art what with its odd angles, jutting sides, and square architecture.

The driver stepped out and opened your door. Once you were faced with the massive stairs and wooden doors before you, the song: Pretty Woman blared in your mind. You certainly felt that way.

Before you could knock, the door swung open revealing a pair of red eyes that were devouring your body head to toe.

“Oh my god...”

“Wasn’t expecting to hear that before I even touched you, beautiful.” He chuckled. His lips quirked into the cocky half smirk you’d grown familiar with from his interviews.

Was this real? Call me king was Ground Zero?!

“C-call me king?” You managed to stutter out pitifully.

“I would prefer to call you by your real name.” He joked. “Come in, beautiful.” He grabbed your hand gently and pulled you through the door.

You couldn’t even appreciate the high ceilings, polished wood floors, and tasteful stone wash colored furniture as you followed Ground Zero through the door.

He took leggy strides into the airy kitchen taking out a couple of glasses from a cupboard. You could only gawk.

He looked good as hell in his short sleeved denim button up shirt and ripped black jeans. His physique flexed under the well tailored clothes showing off the broad chest and bulging biceps you’d seen in the Nudes. His spiky Blonde hair looked soft and a bit damp.

“You wanna drink, beautiful?”

“I don’t accept drinks from new people in new environments.”

He looked up to shoot you a half smile. The usual mischief was missing from his red eyes, replaced with genuine affection.

“Of course you don’t. My (cam name.)”

“F/N,” you replied.

“Bout damn time you gave me a real name. Mine is Bakugo, babe.”

He strolled over with a glass of water for himself.

“So, f/n,” his ruby colored eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as he stepped right to your face. “Why don’t you have a seat? I promise the couch won’t bite.”

He brought a hand down to smack your round ass, making you jump.

“Can’t say the same for myself though.”

Licking your lips, you lowered yourself into the couch. Bakugo settled beside you so close the sides of your bodies touched. He draped an arm around your shoulder.

“I know you got a camsona and all, but damn, y/n, where’s my feisty little c/n? Huh? Lil Ms. Period!” His voice took on a lighter tone as he tried to imitate your twang.

The attempt earned him a giggle.

“Well excuse me, sir, but I wasn’t expecting the number two pro-hero in Japan to be my biggest fan.” You snapped back, playfully rolling your eyes. “Forgive me if I’m still wrapping my brain around it.”

“There’s that smart ass mouth I love so much.” He tucked your chin.

This close to him, you could feel his warm minty breath fanning against your lips. A familiar warmth was already growing between your legs.

Pulling away you asked: “Why me?”

“Hah?” His brows knit in confusion. “Fuck kinda question is that? What do you mean why you?”

“I mean, I’m a bad bitch or whatever, but I’m just...me and you’re...you.”

“Tch. You just answered your own damn question, dumb ass.” He tilted your face back towards him. You felt his other large hand roam the bare skin of your thigh and shivered.

“You’re a bad bitch. You don’t seem to forget that any other time, don’t fuckin’ forget it now, got that? Your confidence is what’s sexy about you.”

A smile tugged at your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.

“You know, when you’re not being a fuckin’ asshole, you can be pretty damn charming when you wanna be.”

“And when you’re not being a defiant little brat, you can be real fucking cute.”

A moan slipped from your glossy lips as his hand crept steadily up your thigh

“Please,” you leaned closer to him, “you love my brattiness.”

He scoffed, amused.

“I’ll show you just how much I like it.”

Without warning, Bakugo scooped you up. His large, rough hands dug into the soft flesh of your round ass as he straddled you on his lap.

Your wet, bare pussy pressed into his bulge as he stole a greedy kiss. Your gasp quickly morphed into a moan as desire burned in your core and flooded your entire body.

His tongue overtook your mouth effortlessly.

“No panties, huh, brat? I can feel you leaking through my jeans.”

“I hate panties,” you managed between kisses. “And bras.”

That little confession just inspired more arousal in Bakugo. He deposited you on the long couch and let his hot tongue snake along every sensitive bit of exposed flesh he could find. Goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Damn, beautiful,” he managed between kisses, “can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

His bulge rubbed your aching clit deliciously.

You tugged his shirt up over his mess of blonde hair.

He grabbed the deep ‘V’ of your dress and ripped it open, drawing a gasp from you.

“Now we match.” He grinned

“You ass—“

“You’ll have a new outfit by tomorrow afternoon, now shut up.”

True to his word, Bakugo tasted every inch of you. He nibbled your ears making you shiver, licked your nipples making you hiss his name, and devoured your toes like blow pops.

Your body was trembling from sensory overload.

“God..” you moaned.

“You look like you want something, babe,” Bakugo smiled wickedly as he hovered above you. “What is it?”

“Eat me.”

[onetuffbunny]

when i was sixteen, i ran away from home

when i tell people that, i still get lectured sometimes even though i’m a grown 30-something year old man but i had my reasons and despite everything, i’d probably do it again if i had to repeat everything. i’m not getting into those reasons because it’s a real fuckin bummo and i’m here for good vibes and good vibrations but one motivation was that i wanted to join a wrestling school in orlando and become a pro-wrestler.

this was not just a pipe dream. this was a viable career path for me. my dad is seven feet tall or pretty damn close to it and i got two brothers who are just as tall. i come from a long line of giants. as i understand, i’m on the short side for my brothers and i’m 6′4″. i was pretty sure i’d be monster-sized as well and even though i never made it that far, i’m pretty fuckin large. it’s a pain in the ass. both men and women’s clothes don’t fuckin fit me without alterations. these sick, sick biceps are a curse. anyway, more important than that is the fact that i’m shit at football and baseball, which are the only acceptable sports professions for a man according to my father, but i was on the wrasslin squad in school and i was real fuckin good. real good. now, that style of wrestling is pretty different than professional wrestling, sure, but i had the technique, i had the skill, and i was also secretly a drama kid, so i had the fuckin flair. i never was in a school play or anything like that because what if people thought i was gay haha what if tho, but disappointed my dad yet again, i was into dnd and larping and shit like that. i usually played a hot barbarian babe but i also played a ripped shirtless wizard in some campaigns.

anyway i packed my backpack up and left. it was pretty rough at times but a lot of people were kind to me. along the way, i met probably the most beautiful girl in the whole entire world and we hit it off like jelly & peanut butter. it’s one of those things that probably wouldn’t have worked out long term on account of the fact that i didn’t work out i was gay until like ten years ago (thought i was bi for a long while but i was mixing up smoochin feelings & BFF feelings) but it was magical as fuck while it lasted and i still miss her every day of my life. anyway, retta & me finally get to orlando after a couple weeks of living rough and then it’s like ‘well what the fuck do we do now’ because it turns out you need somewhere to live. we’ve been dating a hot minute at this point, which basically means that we’re married in our mind, and we decide ‘fuck this we’re not going to be separated’ and then retta gets this situation living with some aunt of an aunt of a friend or something like that, i don’t remember the specifics or how the fuck this woman was even related to loretta, but we’re stoked.

we get there and this place is old. old as balls. carpet in the bathroom. pink carpet. actually carpet in the bathroom is pretty comfy on your feet until you realize it’s probably full of mold and pee and then it’s bad times. place is like 90 degrees in summer and i’m sweating my tits off. kitchen from the 50s and i swear to god i saw cans in there from that era too. mrs. whateverhernamewas is about the oldest old lady i ever seen in my entire life and i’m not sure if she’s actually alive or if she’s just a zombie woman who gets fussy if you brew coffee and it’s not the exact temperature she wants it to be but jesus ma’am it was the right temperature fifteen minutes ago when i made it, it’s not my fault you didn’t get a cup then, you don’t have to throw the whole pot out and remake it, just put it in the microwave like god intended. i’m pretty sure retta lied to her and said we were married and a couple years older than what we were, which was babies, or maybe she just never asked too many questions about us.

it was a pretty sweet deal, even if the house was busted as fuck. we paid $200 a month and then all we had to do on top of that was chores, except mrs whatshername was a lil sexist and i had to drive her around everywhere because ladies shouldn’t drive themselves or whatever and let me tell you what, that was harrowing as fuck because i didn’t know how to drive. i don’t know how the fuck i never got pulled over. i guess it’s probably because i had a beard by the time i was a freshman, so people didn’t look at me and see a long child, they saw a grown ass man.

one thing that it’s important to note is that mrs oldlady did all the cooking. she’d have retta chop up things for her and sometimes she’d point at a bag of charcoal and tell me to grill something (i am not gifted at grilling because i get distracted by more interesting things like not grilling) but she’d do everything else and if you volunteered to help, jesus, god help you. mrs grandmawoman also fuckin hated my guts, which was fair because i was a little shit, but i also have a terminal case of wanting old people to like me and give me hard candy. if you’re above retirement age and tell me to do something, i’ll fuckin do it, no questions asked. if you give me a lemondrop, you could ask me to kill a man and i would seriously consider doing it. i am wresting with the knowledge that are species that are much older than i’ll ever be because i know that if i ever meet them in person, i’ll be hungry for that sweet, sweet validation that only comes from someone older telling you that you did a good job carrying that bundle of sticks across the yard. please, fumblr, i need old people to give me their approval so i can be happy in life.

anyway, one day she makes a sweet potato pie to have after dinner. i was real fuckin hyped for this pie because i spent all day working at the grocery store and then cutting grass and then running chores after that, so obviously i had a huge fucking appetite for this pie. got chased out of the kitchen with a spoon for the crime of looking at that pie with a lil too much hunger in my eye before it was time to eat. i think about this pie all the rest of the day until it’s finally time to eat and then i get a lil piece of it on my plate and.

it’s the worst thing i have ever tasted in my whole entire life. the sweet tates were just wrong. it’s like she grabbed a can of potates from the 80s. they turned. they turned real bad. more than that, there was not sweetness to be found because sugar? no, salt. my tummy flipped and flopped. my spirit cried because my eyes could not. unfortunately for me, i’m a chronic people pleaser and i was at a stage in my life where the thought of not gobbling up anything before me, no matter how bad, was unthinkable, so i cleared my plate and said thank you and then she gave me seconds because i don’t know, i guess it was the one day where she thought i looked like a polite young lad. i look at retta and she also has a look of deepest fear on her face. we communicate our despair in silent understanding. we eat the pie.

later, mrs. whatshername comes in absolutely furious that we ate all that shit and didn’t tell her it was terrible but listen lady what was i supposed to do, say your pie was garbage? no, fuck that, that’s not how you get old ladies giving you werthers originals.

anyway, again, taking applications for anyone in need of a sonboy or grandchild. also taking applications for foxy dilves in need of a hunk to stand there and look pretty but that is entirely separate from my need for grandparent-type approval.

[thethousandyearwitch]

Fatal Taste

“The townspeople believe you’re some kind of evil spirit or monster-” he laughed lightly, not sure if it was because of that ridiculous thought, or because of the soft lips that were caressing the underside of his jaw. “Oh, Ging,” Pariston sighed against his skin in a way that chased goosebumps up his spine. “They are right.” -----------

Ging Freecss has been summoned by his elusive pen-pal Pariston Hill, to examine his claim of a rare and unheard of art collection. Even despite the warnings and difficulties on the way, he was not prepared for what awaited him at the artful mansion.

M-Rated; Vampire!Pariston Hill x Art Appraiser!Ging Freecss.

AO3 Link!

It was the height of summer, as a horse drawn carriage made its way into a small valley village, about 8 miles off the coast, 20 miles from the country’s capital. The sky was mostly clear, and hungry crows on fenceposts watched the carriage pass between grazing fields. The carriage itself didn’t carry a heavy load, just some imported goods from the harbour destined to be sold in the capital, the carriage driver, and a stranger to the country, with messy black hair and rough beard stubble, who had asked for a lift. During the ride he kept mostly quiet, though he introduced himself as “Ging Freecss”.

As they reached the village’s main plaza, the man hopped of the carriage, and bid the driver goodbye with a thanks and some money he had pulled from his trousers, seemingly with no mind paid to how much he was actually giving out.

There wasn’t much to this town, a couple rows of houses with dusted windows, a quaint pub with a few tables decked outside, one of which was occupied by an elderly couple, and a shrine to a local god adorned with candles and food offerings. Ging decided to sit down for a brief rest at the pub, grateful to take refuge in the shade of a sun umbrella next to the tables.

After a short while, a short and stout young woman greeted him and offered him a menu, though he knew well that all he wanted to order was a cold beer. And his wish got fulfilled, as she returned quickly with half a litre of local beer and some trail mix in a bowl. The waitress spoke up with a bubbly voice. “We don’t get many outsiders, sir, you’ve must have had quite a trip. Are you on your way to the capital?”

Ging took a large gulp of his drink before he replied, welcomed the cool chill that chased down his throat. “Ah, No, though I heard it’s a beautiful old city. I’m here to appraise someone’s art collection. Do you think you could help me find an address, actually?” He handed the waitress a neatly folded letter and pointed at the sender’s address. She mustered the handwriting closely before gasping lightly.

“That’s mister Hill’s manor! How do you know him, sir?”

At the same time, the old man at the other table turned around with a stern look. “You must not go there if you value your life, son.”

“I’ve only been in correspondence with him over letters, and though he seems like a weird fellow, I doubt that his antics will cost me my life.” Ging laughed with a rough voice, though the man’s stare didn’t waver.

“He’s a strange and dangerous man. I’ve heard of women visiting him and never returning.”

“Maybe they liked it there so much that they didn’t want to leave! I’ve met him before, he was real polite and friendly, even invited me to his home. But my parents would have killed me if I’d gone out that late in the night.” The waitress sighed wistfully.

“Do you insist to go, young man?” Now the old lady spoke up, her voice sounded sore and stutter-y.

“I’m here to do a job, and if his collection is the real thing, then I’d hate to miss it. But I’ll be quick, probably on my way back to the harbour by the end of the evening.”

The old woman stood up and walked with slow steps over to him, before insistingly grabbing at his hand and pulling him up from his seat. “Come pray then, boy.”

“Ma’am, really, I will be fine, I- I am a grown man- “She pushed him towards the shrine and signalled for him to kneel. “I’m not very religious, y’know- “

“Nonsense, in the face of danger, every man can turn towards any god. Let me pray over you.” Ging rolled his eyes but knew better than to argue with an elderly woman, being beaten with a cane can teach you that lesson. “Dear Gods, watching high above, protect this soul who has strayed from his dedicated path. Guide him to safety and be the shining armour that repels any and all mischievous evils. Assist him in making his judgement, and forgive him for his faults, as we forgive as well. Hold him tight within your hand until he may part which his earthly body to meet you once again.”

Ging waited and listened to the eerie prayer until she removed her hand from his shoulder. “Say, Auntie, a couple rumours don’t turn a man into a monster, do they?”

“People have gone missing in the woods around the mansion. The house itself, it’s always been known to home something evil, for centuries. You youngsters are not in touch anymore with recognizing something malevolent even if it were to spit in your face.”

That cryptic message- or insult- still couldn’t convince Ging not to head towards his destination. Afterall, something like evil spirits couldn’t be real, or else he’d be haunted twice over after disturbing crypts and burial sites, places of worship and sacrifice, the last remains of civilisations long gone. Not once did he think about ghosts or monsters taking revenge.

This ‘Pariston Hill’ was no monster, but most likely just a pretentious man with too much money, feigning interest in art without understanding their purpose and meaning.

Ging asked the waitress again about the address, and she explained a step-by-step on which road he had to hike up to reach the manor. He left her a tip, bid farewell to the old couple, and started to head up the hill road, burlap sack with a few travel belongings over his shoulder.

The road quickly turned from sturdy cobblestone to dirt as he walked, the surrounding forest grew thicker and unkempt around the trail. The woods were quiet except for the occasional crow-cry and wing flutters in the tree crowns. Sweat made his clothes stick uncomfortably to his skin, his hair frizzed due to the humidity. He was an experienced hiker, but he still was sure that anyone who decided to build a mansion only accessible via dirt road was a sadist.

But as much as Ging craved refreshment from the heat again, the subtle static in the air and the increase of tiny insects flying around hinted at something unwelcomed: A summer storm was brewing. It wasn’t unusual for this part of the country, but it could certainly throw him off his schedule.

“Please, anything but- “Ging tried to plead to whatever deity in these parts might be responsible for weather, however he was interrupted by a blinding flash of lighting, followed by booming thunder, and finally cold rain. “Asshole.”

After a half-hearted jog through the rain and mud that would soak him head to toe, dim lights of a fenced in mansion came into view. A lit oil lamp illuminated an unlocked gate, and a gold-plated sign with fancy curled letters that spelled ‘Pariston Hill’. Ging didn’t second guess the open gate and let himself in, eager to get out from under the downpour. As the gate creaked open, he could have sworn he saw a cat that scurried around the corner, but it was gone before he could have been sure. An orange brick path led directly to the main entrance of the house, adorned on either side with well-kept lawn, hedges cut into elaborate shapes, and exotic flowers that Ging had seen in other countries and continents. The entrance was made up of two large solid wood doors, intricate floral carvings, and two iron door knockers that seemed to be decades old but kept in good shape.

But as the rain seeped deeper into his clothes, Ging disregarded the aged architecture and gave the door a few heavy knocks. Through the rain he tried to listen for a response or approaching footsteps, in vain. And yet without any warning, the door clicked, creaked, and slowly opened. Bright light from inside illuminated the outside area of the entrance. In the middle of the light, there he stood.

He seemed a bit taller than Ging, a perfect posture as if practiced. His hair stood out even against the equally golden light, and he wore a vermillion suit, most likely more expensive than the entirety of Gings closet combined. For some reason, the term ‘handsome devil’ came to mind.

For a second, the man looked down on him with a serious, even hostile expression, before he gave a pleasant smile in recognition. “Ging Freecss, I assume? Seems like you had a refreshing journey here.” He leisurely held out a hand, which Ging immediately took for a hearty handshake, subtly making sure that rain splatter from his hand and sleeve would scatter.

“I do enjoy a good hike, and a free shower is a free shower.” He flashed a determined grin, and Pariston removed himself from the man’s cold and clammy grip, still smiling though disgust flashed within his dark eyes. He stepped a bit to the side and made an exaggerated hand motion to invite Ging to step inside the manor.

The entrance hall was lit with a large crystal chandelier and a warm fireplace at the other side of the room, with two red velvet seats facing the fire. Marble floor was covered with a long red carpet, while the walls were adorned with classical paintings. Just at a glance Ging could tell they weren’t imitations.

“Ging- If you allow me to address you so intimately,” Pariston started, though he didn’t wait for an answer before he continued, “Ging, I’ve been anxiously looking forward to your visit. Now, I could have always called a local appraiser to come and do their job, but I sense a sort of passion within you that I’m sure won’t disappoint me.” He flashed another smile, though far from genuine as his stare and tone dripped with mockery.

“Well, usually I would have declined to come such a long way on a shallow request of a pen-pal, but it would be a shame to let the outrageous claim of a complete Ushiromiya portrait collection go unchecked. Where’s the goods?” Ging leisurely started to press out the water that had soaked into his clothes, directly onto the red carpet below. In any other case he may have shown an art collector more respect, but the smug aura of this man, which had already seeped through any and all letters he had ever received of him, pushed Gings buttons in all the wrong ways.

“I’d think a professional appraiser such as yourself wouldn’t want to examine rare paintings in such a condition that you’re in. It would be a shame if you were to get some dirt on them. Why don’t you go ahead and have a shower, while I retrieve the paintings from their safe?”

“I’m pretty confident in my ability to spot a forgery from a safe distance.”

“I’d be a terrible host if you were to catch a cold.”

“Never been sick in my life, now, I insist- “

“This is my humble home, and they are my paintings, Ging. I am the one who insists. And after all, a free shower is a free shower, isn’t it?” Pariston approached him and took clear advantage of his height, looking down at his visitors with an overly polite smile. Ging had never backed down from a challenge, however, his curiosity about the paintings had increased more and more as he looked around the mansion and noticed more authentic art and architecture. If Pariston Hill had truly come into possession of a rare collection, he didn’t want to deprive the world of this discovery just because he refused to take a shower.

“Alright then, but I don’t have a change of clothes.”

“I’ll generously lend you some of my attire, though I won’t make any promises about it fitting someone of your stature.” Pariston laughed lightly as he proceeded to push Ging towards another room down the hall. “Use any towels, soaps, and the likes as you please, be my guest~”

The washroom Ging got ushered into was equipped with a marble sink, a spacious shower, and a white cabinet that held towels of different sizes and colours. It was clean, maybe too clean, as he could find no trace of this room being used…ever. No water stains on the faucet or at the shower tiles, no used toiletries. Most likely it was a washroom just for guests, and he didn’t want to think about the over-the-top luxury that must hide in the master bathroom.

As he pulled his water-heavy clothes off his body, cold air hit his damp skin, there was a knock on the door. “I’ve got your change of clothes~ I’m sure you’ll like these even more than your regular attire.”

“What am I supposed to do about my clothes? I assume you don’t want me to leave them on the floor to rot?” He cautiously pressed one shoulder against the door, just in case his strange host would get any ideas.

“If you insist to keep them, I can hang them to dry by the fire.”

“You mean ‘dry’, and not ‘burn’, right?”

There was a moment of hesitation, before another light laugh echoed through the door. “What kind of person do you take me for?”

“I’ve been told it’s rude to insult a host. Thanks for the clothes!” Ging quickly opened the door just enough that he could fit his arms through, grabbed the neatly folded pile of fresh laundry, and dropped his soaked clothes into Paristons still extended arms, before he shut the door and clicked the lock. He could hear the sound of the clothes hitting the floor with a wet noise and snickered to himself.

.

.

After a long, warm shower, Ging tried his best to towel dry his hair, though in the end he opted to just slick it back. The clothes Pariston had picked out for him were simple, though not necessarily his style: Black slacks, and a white button up that didn’t seem to fit quite right, thus opting to roll up the sleeves just below his elbows and tuck most of the shirt into the pants. He kept the three most top buttons unbuttoned, because he had always hated the stuffy feelings of suits and dress shirts. The faint smell of cologne that wasn’t his stuck to the clothes, but he pretended not to notice. It smelled of cinnamon.

He exited the bathroom, towels discarded in the sink for whoever to clean up, only to find Pariston at the fireplace, Gings clothes neatly folded over the velvet chairs, as he held a small piece of paper. A picture.

“What an adorable baby!”

Ging approached him with quick step and snatched the picture out of his hands at an admirable speed. “Do you usually go through your guests’ belongings or am I a special case?”

“My, I was merely picking up something that fell out of your pockets. Is it your child?”

“What if he was?” Ging glanced over his spread-out clothes, suspicious of any tempering that might have been done.

“He certainly looks like you, if not as, how do you say,” Pariston waved his hand around as if he were to grab a word out of thin air, “bellicose.”

“Whatever that is supposed to mean. He’s my son; since you’re so curious.”

“Well, well~ Congratulations to you and your- “Pariston glanced at Gings hands, before he made eye contact again, prying smile “wife?”

“No such woman exists. Did you invite me here to pry in person about my life, or do I actually get to see the art?”

“Just making casual conversation. But since you are less of a hazard now, I’d love to see you go to work.”

“Don’t throw me out when you have to face the hard truth, though.” He shuffled through his light luggage to retrieve some appraisal tools, then followed Pariston Hill up a wooden staircase that opened to a long hallway of unmarked doors, and the walls here too were lined with paintings. Some were simple landscapes; others elaborate portraits of different eras. A couple of the artists seemed familiar, though most of them seemed to come from absurd sources or lacked an artist’s signature at all. He stopped in front of one particular painting: A painting of this very mansion. It was yellowed with age, and the edges that poked out from its golden frame seemed worn out and somewhat burned. A signature at the very bottom read in cursive ‘P.H.’ and a date around 50 years back. “Huh?”

“Ging~ Here please.” Pariston held a door open, this time with a smile that seemed almost painful with how his teeth were clenched. Ging decided not to question it, and followed his host into a dim room, packed with various dusted boxes and furniture covered in blankets. At the very end stood a row of aged easels holding up paintings.

“Think they will look more genuine in the dark?” he joked dryly, but his eccentric host flicked on a gas lamp in the row with a fool’s confidence, and-

The room lit up and Ging faced four stunning paintings.

He had studied the previously only known Ushiromiya painting painstakingly when he was still just an apprentice. He learned the way the brush strokes had been made in deliberate ways, burned the colour choices into the back of his eyelids, knew the exact curvature of the one-winged eagle that adorned its signature.

These paintings were real. There was no other explanation.

He went up close, examined the texture, searched for any mistakes in disbelief. But each one was flawless.

“And? Did I waste your time?” Pariston stood a couple feet back, arms crossed, and head tilted.

“They are real… Pariston, this is ground-breaking!” Ging spun around, his face a mix of bewilderment and pure joy. This joy only doubled when Pariston clapped his hands together and seemed to be just as elated.

“Wonderful! Simply splendid!”

“We might be some of the only people alive to have ever seen these!” Ging enthusiastically grabbed Parison by the shoulders, his mind was racing with potential studies he could write on these paintings and the way their existence was to alter history. “How did you get these?”

“They were given to my family by the original artists; So I’ve been told.” A mysterious smile, almost melancholy danced on his lips, before he gave another flash of his shining teeth. “I never doubted their authenticity, but I couldn’t keep their existence to myself, could I?”

Ging gave an enthusiastic slap on Paristons shoulder, feeling for the first time like the two of them shared a surprising, genuine connection. “Will you donate them to a museum? Try to contact the family of the Artist? Or the remaining Ushiromiya family members?”

“I will keep them here. Maybe hang them in my study. Now, would you care for a meal, Ging?”

“What?”

Pariston had already walked back to the door and flicked off the light, his silhouette only illuminated by the faint lights in the hallway. “I’ve let my chef prepare us a meal. I assume you don’t get asked for dinner often then.” He chuckled.

“I thought you didn’t want to keep their existence to yourself!”

“And I didn’t. You know about them now. Exciting, isn’t it?” He chuckled once again, before he disappeared into the hallway.

Ging weighed his option if he were to grab the paintings and escape into the night, but the storm still raged on outside, and he couldn’t safely juggle 4 large canvases all the way to the harbour or capital by himself.

For now, all he really could do was to find a way to convince Pariston to change his mind, through persuasion, threats, or force. Maybe if he were to get some outside forces to apply pressure, he recalled his colleague in forensics, Cheadle, owed him a favour.

He stepped into the hallway and quickly fell into step besides Pariston. “Dinner would be lovely, I’m sure, unfortunately I’m on a tight schedule, so I’d rather get going. I could write you a certificate of authenticity for the collection, though I’d need a second appraiser for the process. My good colleague Miss Yorkshire would be thrilled to visit, I’d think.”

Pariston came to a halt, ran his hand through his messy blond streaks of hair with a sigh. “Oh, Ging, I simply can’t let you continue in this weather. No ship will sail under these conditions, and the way to the capital is prone to mudslides. I don’t want to be complicit in your accidental death.” Ging was about to argue before he was cut off once again. “As for your colleague, you can gladly summon miss Cheadle Yorkshire here, though we’ve never been on very good terms.”

“Wh- How do you know her?”

“Let’s discuss it over dinner, shall we?”

.

.

Ging expected to be taken to a large dining hall with a table set for a dozen people, but in the end, they entered a separate room adjacent to it, with a medium scale dining table only decked for two. Unlike the other rooms in the house, this one was lit with multiple candles in elaborate holders -17thcentury bronze, Ging thought – and a phonograph was playing a concert recording. The men took their seats at opposed ends of the table, Ging sat with a natural comfort and slack, as if any seat he claimed was immediately his own with no regard to manners or humility; Pariston sat with seemingly practiced confidence and superiority as he made a show of crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. A confidence that irritated Ging to no end.

“Must be lonely to usually eat by yourself in this large, dusty room, huh?”

“I keep company one way or another.” Pariston spread a napkin on his lap, though the twitch of his eyebrow indicated his true annoyance with Gings remark.

Just then the door from the hallway opened, and a tall man in a chef’s uniform entered, as he pushed a small silver cart stacked with dishes. As he stepped closer, Ging noticed strange markings around his eyes, though there was no telling if they were tattoos or merely makeup. “Good evening,” he mumbled, in a voice unlikely for a man of his tall stature, “tonight’s meal is wagyu rump steak with rice and garlic Bok choy, served with a bottle of mister Hills personal wine selection.” After Pariston nodded in approval, the tall man started to serve the plates and poured two glasses of deep red wine.

“Don’t tell me you eat like this every day.”

“Of course not~ I prefer Kobe Fillet. I was trying to be mindful of less acquainted tastes.”

“You’re right, I don’t eat beef a lot. I prefer fish, but I understand that not everyone can get their hands on bluefin tuna.”

“Maybe I will let it be prepared for next time.”

“Is it that lonely up here that you’re already inviting me to another dinner?”

“I just assumed you’d appreciate the company, without a significant other and the fact that your child is most likely not under your care.”

The men exchanged challenging looks. Pariston still had a polite smile, though he started to lean forward in his chair like a predator about to pounce, while Ging couldn’t keep an irritated smirk form his lips. The tension was only interrupted by the chef, who cleared his throat and told the men to enjoy their meals. Just then the sweet and savoury smell of the food hit Ging, and he couldn’t deny the hunger that had built itself up.

Pariston lifted his own wine glass up, red liquid sparkled in the candlelight. “To the most interesting guest who has found his way into my home.”

In response, the man in question raised his own glass, though with less bravado and more at leisure. “To the Ushiromiya collection and their questionable owner.”

Both of the men started drink from their wine, though Ging noticed Paristons eyes on him, as if he awaited a reaction. The wine was sweet on Gings tongue, it lacked the usual sting that wine would give him once he swallowed.

“How is it?”

“Could be worse. You’ve got a lot of time on your hands to even make your own wine.”

The blond started to cut off a piece of his meal, and took a small bite, never breaking eye contact. “I am a man that easily gets bored. I need a lot of hobbies.”

“That makes two of us.”

They ate mostly in silence, music from the phonograph kept the atmosphere light. Ging hadn’t realized just how hungry he was, until he finally ate enough and the lingering knot in his stomach loosened. He emptied his plate in what felt like record time, no regard for table manners, and drank more wine while Pariston ate at a patient (and reasonable) pace. After his third glass, he was expecting the normal pleasant buzz that alcohol gave him, in vain.

“You still need to explain to me how you and Cheadle are acquainted.” He poured himself another glass, which Pariston seemed to approve.

“We have met a couple years prior, at a theatre opening in the city, hosted by Sir Netero. A friend of a friend, so to say. Unfortunately, people like us aren’t meant to get along. I offered her a dance out of curtesy, but I felt like she might have mauled me if I insisted.”

Ging laughed lightly, “She does have a temperament. I can’t imagine her being much of a dancer.”

“Saying something like that about a lady isn’t very nice, especially considering the same could be said about you.”

“Bold assumption, with no evidence.”

“You don’t look like you’d have the grace required for dancing.”

“I may not get invited to many balls, but I’ve known myself around a couple dancing events.”

“Are you willing to prove yourself?” Pariston got up from his seat, walked over to Ging, and as the phonograph started to play another orchestra song, he extended his hand to him. “May I have this dance?”

The shorter man hesitated, but unable to admit defeat to the other, he took the hand and immediately got pulled into the starting position for a Viennese Waltz, his right hand in Paristons, his left rested on the others upper arm; Paristons right hand rested on Gings shoulder-blade. As they started to move, Ging had to concentrate hard to not look at his feet, seeing as it would be an admission to not being confident in his steps, though locking eyes with the other man stirred something uncomfortable within him. He couldn’t clearly remember the last time he had danced with someone else, so the closeness of it felt foreign. As the music continued, they waltzed through the room, at first only in the ‘natural box’, though soon Pariston led them to side whisks and natural turns, a steadily increased pace.

“I do have to admit, you’re better at this than I initially thought.” Pariston smiled.

“You shouldn’t judge a book so easily by its cover.”

“You shouldn’t forget who has the lead.” Before Ging could question the statement, he was dipped low as the orchestral music seemed to reach its climax, hands immediately grabbing for more hold before he’d meet the ground. In the end, he clung to Paristons shoulders in a move that lacked grace but not force. The other man meanwhile had let go of his shoulder-blade, and instead had both hands secure at Gings waist. “Afraid I would drop you?”

“It’s what I would have done.”

The two men laughed and stood themselves up straight once again, but their hands remained where they were, whether it was a conscious decision or not. A slower song started, the name of it at the tip of Gings tongue, and as he pondered it, he may not have even noticed that they started a slow dance together. It was a simple three-step, and Pariston would occasionally close his eyes to hum along to the music, uncaring of the closer contact between him and the other man; The longer it went on, so did Ging.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to dance.”

“Maybe the alcohol made me more susceptible to idiocy.”

“There was no alcohol in that wine, Ging. Or at least not enough, to get you anywhere near an inebriated state.” He chuckled.

“A wine without alcohol can barely call itself a wine. What is in it, then?”

“I wonder if you can guess~”

Ging thought about it for a minute, determined to prove himself better once again. “It was very sweet, but too water-y to just be crushed fruit.” This only elicited a humoured ‘Mhm’. “I think it is a process of combining younger wine with some sort of flavoured tea.”

“Incorrect, but a good try~”

“What is it then?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Ging rolled his eyes, but continued their slow dance, as he got used to the hands on his waist that occasionally tapped their fingers to the music. “Keeping secrets must be another of your hobbies. The wine, the portraits…” He trailed off when he realized that Pariston inched closer; He smiled, self-satisfied, dark eyes focused solely on the other. Suddenly Ging felt the blood in his veins run cold, like faced with a predator in the woods, his heart was beating in this throat. Every nerve in his body started to feel shocked and screamed to run. But he couldn’t. Didn’t want to. And so, he stood still when Paristons ghostly cold hand cradled the side of his face as if another rare piece of art. When Ging didn’t flinch away from the touch, the blond placed a first kiss just on the corner of the others mouth. Then another. And another. Until Ging turned his head just enough to connect their lips.

Paristons lips were soft and faintly tasted of that sweet wine, with each kiss his hold on the others waist would tighten, like he was afraid he’d turn and run. But instead, the shorter man wrapped his arms around the blonds’ neck, even a tad eager to press his tongue between his lips, to be closer, to taste more. Every new connected kiss made his stomach twist in just the right way, he relished that it felt dangerous, maybe even wrong, and yet so satisfying.

After what felt like hours, though realistically it was probably a couple of minutes, their lips parted and Gings head was left spinning as Pariston continued to kiss along his jaw. But there is one thing that pulled at his mind, annoyingly so.

“The townspeople believe you’re some kind of evil spirit or monster-” he laughed lightly, not sure if it was because of that ridiculous thought, or because of the soft lips that were caressing the underside of his jaw.

“Oh, Ging,” Pariston sighed against his skin in a way that chased goosebumps up his spine. “They are right.”

“Wha- “Suddenly a sharp, paralyzing pain shot from Gings neck to the ends of his body. He couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, all he could do was to drive his nails deeper into the others shoulder, and let out quiet gasps. Meanwhile a thumb stroked over his cheekbone as if to soothe, the other hand on the small of his back to keep him from collapsing.

He wondered if he was going to die here, at the hands of a vampire that he’d been warned about. He wondered if he’d been deliberately seduced- did he consider himself seduced? – just to be killed.

He threaded his fingers through the vampire’s hair, with no energy to pull him away from himself, just enough to hold on. Acceptance. He felt cold.

A tongue lapped over the fresh wound on his neck, followed by a few soft kisses. The pain subsided to a dull numbness. His line of sight started to darken. Pariston cradled Gings face in his hands, lips and chin stained red. He pressed another kiss to his lips, so tender as if he had never revealed his true nature, and the shorter man but couldn’t help but huff out a laugh with the last of his strength.

“Tastes like wine.”

“Another secret revealed to you.”

The last thing Ging saw was Paristons smile and dark eyes. Then blackness.

.

.

When Ging came to, the past day felt like a distant dream. He felt no pain, only a comfortable warmth that surrounded him, and someone’s fingers that combed through his hair.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. A dim room he did not recognize, next to him a bedstand with a carafe of water and some medical tools that included gauze, needle, thread, and a dirtied scalpel. He himself was still wearing the clothes he had been presented with after his spontaneous shower. He turned his head to the other side, and there sat Pariston on the same bed, one hand in the man’s hair, the other held an aged book. At the movement, he retracted his hand in shock, before his signature smile flashed once more.

“You’re awake.”

“I’m alive.” It somewhat hurt to talk, and as he reflexively reached for his own throat, he felt a thick bandage at the side of his neck. “You kept me alive. Why?” He started to sit himself up, not wanting to be physically talked down to.

“I don’t want to be bored. You’re the first visitor I’ve had in a while that managed to keep my interest. I guess I am pretty selfish.”

“You are.” Ging reached out to brush a strand of hair from Paristons face, before gently pulling him in for a kiss. “So am I.”

He felt his stomach twist again as they kissed, so sickly sweet, and he wanted more. He deepened the kiss, drank up every relaxed sigh that came from the other, let himself be greedy and reach for more. Even though Pariston almost killed him, still could, he touched Ging like he was something treasured, close enough to not let him escape, but not enough to break him. And maybe that’s what Ging wanted, to be desired, even in a destructive, dangerous sense.

As the feeling returned to all his limbs, he took advantage of it to properly sit himself up, then straddle Paristons lap. He broke their kiss, leaving the other somewhat panting. Again, the blonds’ hand was at the side of his face, not as cold this time, and his thumb traced small circles into his cheek.

“How often have you coerced someone here, just to feed?”

Pariston closed his eyes in thought, “It would be pointless to keep count. But no one has ever made it as far as you have.”

This prompted Ging to claim the vampires’ lips with his own in a possessive kiss. Paristons free hand started to trail up and down the shorter man’s thigh; In response, Ging started to feel his way from Paristons shoulders to his chest, lean but firm muscle.

And no heartbeat.

Of course, there wouldn’t be. He was dead.

Ging thought about how, maybe in a different lifetime, the two of them could have met through different means, both alive and entirely human. He thought about the countless people that have stepped into this mansion, never to return to their families. How even he would one day pass, either through natural means or because Pariston had lost interest in his existence. Would he ever let someone else get this far, after Ging? He felt cold steel in his hand.

This time, Pariston was the first to break the kiss, only for a moan to escape his lips. By now, they had slipped further down the mattress, with Pariston flat on his back while Ging still firmly straddled his hips. He looked so human under Ging, dark eyes half lidded and even the faintest flush on his cheeks.

Ging thought about how long he could stay here. About all the paintings in this mansion and their history he could study. About shared dinners and slow dancing to orchestral music. The image of himself as a corpse, entirely dry, flashed in his mind. A wine bottle with his name written on it.

Ging took Paristons hand from his face and held it over his racing heart. “I don’t think someone else has ever done this to me.” It felt ridiculous to say but it also tasted so bitter with truth to say out loud. His other hand grasped the foreign, cold object harder.

“What an honour~” Pariston purred, and he tried to lean up to unite in another kiss before he got pushed back into the mattress.

“We are both selfish, Paris. I don’t want you to do this to anyone else. And I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

In the vampires’ eyes flashed confusion, irritation, and then the glistening object that Ging had hidden. The scalpel from the bedside table. And in his last moment, he smiled with such honesty, that it felt like it was Ging who would receive that fatal blow to the heart.

It was over in a moment.

The scalpel, with enough force, had swiftly pierced through the ribs all the way to his heart, and after a pained gasp and a bit of twitching, Pariston Hill had died.

Ging remained seated for a while; He did not move, just looked. He wondered if he should cry, if he even could if he wanted to. But in the end, he closed Paristons eyes, gave him a parting kiss on the forehead, and left.

He never told anyone about the paintings.

Never told anyone about what he experienced in the mansion.

He wanted to be selfish and keep this secret just between himself and Pariston. Forever.

[aficwhore]

As I Lay Dying...(Part Two)

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: After an argument, Spencer and the Reader stop talking while on a case. With tension and feelings in the mix, Y/n goes undercover, but do they make it out?

Word Count: 2,119

Warnings: angst, language, violence, near death experience?

A/N: Took me a while because the plot I wrote was very similar to another writer’s, so I rewrote it, but here’s part two! yay!!! How’d you like Part one? What would you like to see next?

(Part one ending: “When were you going to tell me?!” He forcefully asked.

“Tell you what?” I attempted to answer.

“That you were going undercover! That you were going to put yourself in harm's way?!” He slightly shouted.

This angered me, “I didn’t realize that I had to run my OWN decisions by YOU! Last time I checked, I was a grown woman. This is for the better, to stop this murderer! You are NOT my father, you are NOT my owner, and last time i checked, you are NOT my boyfriend!” I exclaimed back.

Spencer seemed taken back, his face showed shock and dismay. He was speechless, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“What? NOW you don’t say something? Unbelievable Spencer.” I exaggerate, turning on my heel and leaving him to himself in the hotel lobby.)

Reader’s POV:

Storming off, I found my way back to our room upstairs to grab what I needed for the day, my keys, badge, and wallet. My phone in my back pocket began to buzz, frustratedly I answer it as I locked the door and headed back down to the cafe. “Special Agent Y/l/n.”

“It’s Emily, we’re headed to the SUV’s, why’s pretty boy upset? Were you being mean to him?” she joked.

“No Em, he tried to boss me around, and I wasn’t going to let him.” I huffed, quickening my strides towards the front of the hotel, attempting to catch up to the team.

“Hmm, okay we’ll talk about it later just get your butt out here.” Emily muttered and hung up.

Now jogging through the doors of the lobby, I hop into the back seat of one of the two SUV’s, landing me in a seat next to the genius himself, Spencer. He stayed silent, not bothering to look in my direction.

“All ready back there?” Hotch questioned from the front seat.

“Uh yea I think so.” I breathed.

Derek slightly turned in the passenger seat to make eye contact with me. He quirked his eyebrow, as a silent way of asking what the deal was between Reid and I. I held up my phone and pointed to it, suggesting that I’d text him the deeds. He nodded and swiveled back around.

ME: “Spencer and I got into an argument about going undercover...Which was SUPPOSED to be confidential…”

DEREK: “Oh. I see. I may or may not have let it slip in front of him. I’m sorry Y/n.”

ME: “It’s okay, but he overreacted and tried to stop me. I get it, he’s worried, but why, I’ll be fine.”

DEREK: “It’s because he’s in love with you kid. He’s smitten lol.”

ME: “Whatever Morgan.”

I typed the last message as we pulled up to the police department. Quietly getting out, a hand grabs my arm before I make it fully out of the black car. I look back to see Spencer pleading with his eyes.

“What do you want.” I exhaled.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I just have a bad feeling about this Y/n. And I’m telling you not to go through with this, there’s other ways to catch the unsub.” He whimpers.

I retort, “I already made up my mind Spencer! Stop telling me there’s other ways. I know that, but this is our best shot.”

“Just listen to me for once!” Spencer raises his voice.

“Fuck you.” I spit, tearing myself from his grip and slamming my door closed. The rest of the team stand feet awake in shock and confusion. I walk past them and through the doors, in hopes to get this case over with so I can get away from Spencer for a while.

After what seemed like hours going over evidence and coming up with a profile, we finally are ready to start the undercover part.

“Alright, we need to make sure you look the part.” JJ smiles at me while ushering me into a small locker room with a bunch of clothing and shoes.

“Oh great, a makeover.” I playfully snort.

“You betcha, so all the women had been reported wearing red dresses, take your pic,” She explains while holding out two wildly short dresses. One was a low v-neck, leaving hardly anything to the imagination, and the other was strapless, an accident waiting to happen.

With a cringed face a reach out and take the low cut dress, at least it has straps. “Definitely this one, I don't trust the other one to stay up.” I giggle while slipping the red fabric on.

“Safe choice, now we have to pin up your hair. Give the unsub what he wants, something to easily grab onto. Hopefully he won’t get that close before we get him.” JJ’s demeanor shifts from playful to what seemed like nervousness or even a bit of fear.

“Jennifer Jareau, I am a big girl and can handle it if something happens.” I reassure her.

“I know I know, just Spencer said he had a bad feeling, and when is he ever wrong?” She voiced and she finished combing my hair into a slicked back ponytail.

“JJ, just give my shoes so we can get this over with and all go home, please?” I extended my hand out. She nodded and handed me a black pair of pumps. Slipping them on and standing, I take a deep breath. This was definitely not what I was used to wearing. How was I going to survive the pain in my feet AND fight bad guys?!

JJ and I walked out, only to be surrounded by the team.

“You remember the plan? Go in alone, mingle, catch people’s attention, when the unsub approaches you, calmly accept his invite to leave, follow him out to his car, get in and go to his house. We will be right behind you, nothing bad will happen. He doesn’t do anything to his victims til after you go inside and have a drink. When he offers you a drink, say the code word and we’ll grab him. Got it?” Aaron briefs me yet again.

“Yes, I got it, are we all ready? I just want to get this done, because I need a fucking drink after today.” I [proclaimed with a smirk, earning laughs from Emily, JJ, and Derek.

“Alright, we’re all suited up, lead the way Y/n,” Derek motions towards the doors.

Cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders, and I stand tall and glide to the black car waiting for me. As I slide into the driver seat, Hotch holds my door open and mutters to me, “We’ll be there the whole time. Just play it calm and collective, okay?”

I nod while slowly shutting my door. I take a deep breath and turn the key, the car engine coming to life. The drive to the club was short, but felt like ages. What was going to happen? Will I know who the unsub is? Will the team respond in time- I don’t doubt their abilities, my nervousness is just getting the best of me right now. I need to breathe, I got this.

After parking and making sure I look fine, I get out and strut as much as possible to the club entrance. Grabbing the attention of the other’s in line, I walk all the way up to the bouncer and give him the code, “I’m here for Vinnie’s party.”

“Oh yes, go ahead ma’am.” The tall man realizes and steps aside, just enough for me to slip into the dark and crowded bar. The smell of cigarettes and booze fill my senses. Heading to the bar I bump into a few people.

“Order a drink, sit at the bar for a little, then go dance, make your presence known.” Emily’s voice sounded from the small device planted in my ear. 

“Hey can I get a vodka cranberry please?” I tell the bartender. She nods, grabs a few things and mixes a couple drinks. While I wait, I glance around, no one in particular stands out. 

“Vodka cranberry,” the girl smiles, sliding it over to me. Handing her cash she shakes her head, “Don’t worry about it, the man over there paid for it.” She winked and turned to help another person. I look down the bar to find a beautiful man, blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and a pearly white smile. He lifts his drink to me, to acknowledge it was him who bought my drink.

Grabbing my drink and striding over to him, I smile, “Thank you, for this.” I gesture towards my glass.

“Of course, just had to let you know that you are the most beautiful woman here tonight.” He smirks, making my stomach flip. 

“So, what is a handsome bachelor like you doing here, all alone?” I pry, hoping that he may be the unsub.

“Just looking to make friends and meet a nice gal like you.” He winks, taking a swig of his beverage.

“Well, what do you say to a dance? Or do you not know how?” I mused, seeing a flash of anger in his eyes. The unsub had been profiled to hate women who underestimated him.

“Oh you’re going to regret that.” He said harshly, grabbing my wrist and yanking me onto the dance floor.

He spun me around fast with the beat of the song, in an attempt to discombobulate me and throw me off my game. But I kept up, trying to beat him at his little game. His hand on my waist tightened, pulling me impossibly closer.

He leaned down to my ear, “The gig is up Ms. Agent. I knew from the moment you walked in. Dressed up, perfect to my liking, easy going, and very charming.”

My ear rings, “Y/n? Can you hear me? Have you seen anyone?” He sees the small device and rips it from my ear, throwing it to the ground.

His grip on me, getting impossibly tighter. “So here’s what’s going to happen. We take a nice stroll towards the bathroom, you follow MY lead, and maybe nobody gets hurt.” He sneers.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat with a nod. As he gives me a sinister smile, and begins to push me towards the back door near the bathrooms. I frantically look around, searching for any familiar face in the club, in hopes someone would catch on. But no luck.

“Wait, they-they’ll see us.” I try to lie as we make it out the doors and towards his car.

He lets go of my waist and grabs me by my hair yanking my head back, “Then we must be quick then, KEEP MOVING.” He shoves me into the side of the vehicle, throwing me off balance. He swings the door open and pushes me inside.

“They’re going to follow us. They know all about you.” I bluff, challenging him, but it only makes him angrier.

“SHUT UP. I have different plans for you.” He yells.

I yank on the backseat door handle but it doesn’t budge, some stupid child lock. The windows are too dark for anyone to see me in here. As he speeds off I search around for something to use. His car is completely empty.

He mutters angrily to himself as he drives faster. He’s distracted, perfect. Quietly sitting directly behind him, I reach for the knob on the side of his seat to adjust it. Thinking quickly, I pull it and throw my body against the chair, causing him to slam into the steering wheel. The car screeches as it loses control, swerving to the side, throwing me against the opposite seat. The wheels catch on the pavement, sending us rolling. All I see are blurs outside the window, until I’m thrown against the windshield from the force, causing me to lose consciousness.

I feel heat rising above me, I feel wet, and I’m in pain. All I can hear is the faint yells, the sound of a fire crackling, and sirens far away. Though I want to open my eyes, it’s impossible. As I slowly drift to silence, I think about Spencer, how he was right and how much I loved him...

[jungcity]

bane of the devil. | i

genre: vampire!jaehyun [ mature | angst | smut ]

pairings: jaehyun x female reader

note: bane of the devil deals with themes of physical, mental, and sexual abuse as well as toxic relationships. which may be upsetting for some readers. you are advised not to continue if you feel uncomfortable to these types of plots.

“father, i dreamt about a boy

his hands, bloodied

eyes like the shot of dawn

with the rebellion in his mouth

he tried to conquer

the moon

with the venom of his prayers

he tried to

search for a god

pray tell me father,

how do i love him

with no flesh, all blood

heaven help us,

how could he love me

if i am the sun?”

— jungcity, bane of the devil // i

Raindrops danced in the air as they fall from the clouds with the squalling winds intensifying the impact of it against the glass window panes. The murmurs and complaints filled the whole room, your classmates begging your professor to turn off the air conditioner. Your mechanical pencil lay forgotten above your table as you stare at the horizon from your seat beside the window. Oh, how you longed for your bed in this cozy weather.

Seven a.m. to seven p.m. class should be classified as a mortal sin— you could not, in the life of you, understand that type of abomination. It is cruel beyond reckoning. Especially when you sit on a room of thirty people, doing nothing as the heavy drops of rain and the cool atmosphere it provides slowly lulls you to slumber.

The only thing that prevented you from doing so was the loud slap of your professor’s hands on table, his voice echoing off the walls of the room. “Alright! Stop chattering!” He yelled as he raised a piece of paper in the air.

You slumped back in your seat. Here we go again. Every time your professors raise their hands while holding papers, you could not help but release a groan.

“Here is the plan for your next plate,” he started. “Photocopy it, take a picture of it, it’s up to you.” He then handed the papers to the student in front. You stared as your classmate’s face crumpled into a grimace while he skimmed the document. That— without a doubt— would also be your face once you get a hold of the plan.

“Just like the last time, bind your A3 papers with two fasteners. There must be a separate sheet for the front page. And please,” the professor exhaled, “Please don’t forget your names! How would I give you a failing grade if I don’t know who you are.” The groans rose up again from the students, your own commixing with the chaos of curses and prayers and the laugh of your professor.

“Hey, hey! Haechan!” You grabbed your friend’s shirt as he scurried off to your classmate in the front row. “Take a picture and send it to the group chat.”

He snatched his shirt away from your grasp while glaring at you, “I know! I know! Wait here.” Then he pulled out his phone, waving it onto your face before dashing to your classmate who has the plan.

You fished for your own phone inside your bag when a boy sat in front of you. He rested his arm on your table and propped his chin on his palm. “Damn, I’m surely gonna die before this semester ends.” Mark groaned, his eyes looking at your table.

You chuckled from your seat, “Three major plates to go, buddy.”

“I’m gonna sell my soul to Satan so I don’t have to do any of this bullcrap.” Haechan threw his phone on to the table. Luckily, you caught it before it slid down and shattered on the hard floors. He let out an infuriated sigh before grabbing one of the chairs and sitting on it beside your table.

“It’s that bad?” Mark grimaced as he pressed the power button of Haechan’s phone. The light of the screen illuminated his soft features in an instant, “Wow. Your phone’s brightness could blind a person,” Mark stated while blinking rapidly.

Haechan said nothing as he leaned his head on your table. You peek at the phone yourself, Mark slowing down his scrolling as you leaned closer.

“Five-storey residential? What?!” You exclaimed. Tons of plates are slowly piling up to you bedroom. Your drafting table could not even hold them anymore, they are littered all over the mattress and the whole place. As your eyes scrutinized the image of the plan, Mark let out a curse as he read the requirements of the residential building.

“Oh, no. The measurements are given,” Mark exchanged glances with you. “I won’t do this shit.” Then the phone toppled over the table again after Mark threw it. Haechan snatched his phone back with a special glare meant only for Mark before laying his head back on the table.

The rain continued to ravage the roof and the ground as the three of you rested your heads on your desk. Chatters and the shuffling of drafting materials once again dominated the whole room, with a few of your classmates cursing at the back as they play their online games.

“I had at least thirty-minutes of sleep today,” you declared. Your eyes feels heavy and your body seemed to be softening and turning into jelly by the sleep deprivation.

“Wow. I didn’t even have a blink of sleep myself.” Haechan mumbled, face still covered by his arms.

After your heavy nap, the three of you woke up with red-rimmed eyes. If you could continue sleeping in your room until tomorrow, you would. But of course, that is not possible.

Your classmates started to pack their things as the professor came back and dismissed the whole class. It has always been like that; your prof giving yet another plan and then dismissing the whole class two or three hours earlier than the scheduled time. You would have not attended today’s class if not for the other plates that needed to be submitted.

Despite the sullenness of your house because of your brother’s absence, you still wanted to go home and nap. It does not matter if you have mountains of plates to do, what truly matters is you, going home to the tranquility and safety of your house before midnight. It was a habit you’ve grown accustomed to since the untimely death of your parents.

Your path goes different ways from Mark and Haechan. That’s why you sat alone in the bus as they stand in the waiting shed while waiting for theirs. Both of them waved at you, mouthing the words ‘take care’. You answered them with a slight wave of your hand before putting on your earbuds.

The rain has calmed down already, leaving the stores drenched, the highway splotched with circles of rainwater. Yet the lightning still dominated the skies, white lights flashing like roots reflected in your irises as you stare at the bleakness of the heavens through the bus’ windows. The speed of the vehicle made everything blurry; from the blustery wind slapping against the trees to the lights from different stores. They filled your sight as the music continued to blast in your ear.

Your phone vibrated against your hand, stopping the music. You glanced at the screen and saw your brother’s caller ID. Johnny. Automatically, your brow shot up to your forehead. He has been away for two weeks now, doing God only knows what on the other side of the ocean. Of course, your big brother calls every night to check up on you. But tonight, he called earlier than usual.

You attempted to slide the green button when your cell phone flew away from your grasp, your head hitting the seat in front of you, eliciting a loud groan to escape from your lips. Loud protestations echoed from the students and elders alike, their own faces bedraggled as they recover themselves from the impact of the bus drawing to a halt.

“What happened?” An elderly woman asked, her hand on the middle of her chest while breathing heavily.

“There’s a person who crossed the road.” The conductor explained, but his words sounded unsure.

The woman’s eyes widened, “Is the person alright?” She stood up from her seat, one hand grabbing the railings in front of her.

“That’s what we’re confused about, Ma’am. The person is nowhere on the asphalt. He ran with a dashing speed… it’s impossible.” You didn’t know if it was amazement or fear that was laced with the conductor’s voice, but his statement caught your attention nonetheless.

The nagging curiosity inside your chest spreads like wild fire. If ever your intuition is right, you have to find that person or whatever that is. A speed like that could only be achieved by one creature. Your brother might call you a freak or a delusional little girl again, but it might be the only way to get answers. Answers that he did not bother to find when your parents died.

The truth is, years ago, your parents had their inopportune death. But the authorities has not yet to find the murderer. How could they? When there was no DNA in the crime scene but your parents’. How could they? If the murderer was not even a person to begin with.

Deep in your heart, you know. You know the world is enfolded with mysteries that a human mind would not be able to perceive. Cloak-and-dagger as it is, you understood that reality the moment you saw the two dots that were obviously from a penetration of fangs embedded in your parents’ necks.

‘Vampire! Vampire!’ was your unending scream at the morgue. Since you were only a little girl back then, no one paid attention to you. Not the policemen, not even your brother.

It did not surprise you when everyone called it a hopeless case. In their eyes, it was. But in yours, it’s not. Ever since your parents were murdered, you have been drinking the myths and lore of vampires. Day and night you devoured books, watched vampire sightings, studied their strengths as well as their weaknesses. It simply was a thirst you could not quench.

It was like that until you started college. You could not simply search for a free time to indulge yourself about those undead, blood-sucking creatures any longer. But every articles, every information, were still plastered to a blackboard inside your bedroom. A reminder of what you have been sleuthing for all your life.

Yellow lights illuminated the pool of waters on the asphalt road. You tiptoed as to prevent your shoes from getting soaked. Plastics, styrofoams, as well as vegetables skins from the uncollected drenched trash bins littered all over the street.

At long last, the shadow of your apartment appeared. Darkness invaded the vicinity, a quiet reminder that there isn’t any person present inside. You pulled out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, ten missed calls from Johnny were displayed in the notifications. Frustrated from what happened inside the bus, you continued to ignore his calls earlier, despite your phone vibrating continuously.

Your phone’s flashlight casted a white light upon the dimness. Keys in your left hand, and your phone in your right, you struggled to jam the keys into the hole. When the gates finally opened, you sent Johnny a text that says you’re already home.

“At long fucking last.”

Your phone went flying to the grass yet again as you saw a figure looming in the shadows. A silent curse slid past your lips as you hurriedly picked it up, dead and wet grass sticking onto the screen. Once again, you pressed the flashlight button to see through the darkness.

And there, in the corner near the door, a man with a bloodied face stares at you with a cigar in between his lips. Spontaneously, your heart thudded frantically in your chest. You wanted to shout, but the scream bubbled out in your mouth and then nothing came out.

“Who are you?” You managed to ask.

The man didn’t answer. He pulled something out of his pockets. You took a step back. Only when he struggled to light his cigarette you realized it was only a lighter. His hands continued to shake, and you have no idea why haven’t you screamed for help yet. They say curiosity killed the cat. Right now, you do not doubt the saying as your curiosity ascended your fear.

“Care to light this for me, kitten?” He stretched out his hand to offer you the lighter. His endearment catching you like a deer in the headlights.

“Who are you and what are you doing here? All bloodied?”

The man sighed and started to light his cigar again. “The name’s Jaehyun. I’m friends with your brother, Johnny.” He offered you the lighter once more, “Now, will you light this up for me? As you can see, I’m shaking and bleeding.”

After his last word, you glanced up and down his body, the light of your phone following your action. And then you saw as blood poured out from a wound on his side. You hadn’t noticed it earlier because of his black shirt.

“What— I don’t— are you alright?” What stupid, stupid question. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. Is this why your brother were so eager to call you? Because apparently, his friend stands bloodied in front of your doorstep.

“I feel like shit but I’m alright.” Smoke puffed out of his lips as he succeeded in lighting his cigarette after numerous attempts. “Won’t you open the door?” He nudged his head to the direction of the door. You blinked and felt the keys in your palms again.

“Tell me what’s happening first.”

It’s cruel, but if he manages to stay alive while blood gushes out of his stomach, you believed he could concisely explain to you what’s going on.

“Women are so fucking difficult,” he mumbled. “I will tell you everything once we’re inside and you’re stitching up my goddamned wound.”

“What?!” It was a scream more than a word. “Listen, I don’t know how to stitch up—”

He cut you off, “Well that’s a pity.” Then he threw away the bud of the cigarette to the ground. “Listen, I’m going to pass out anytime soon,” then he licked his lips, “Better open this door so we could get to business.”

“Promise me you won’t do anything to me.” It’s childish and you feel pathetic, but you said it anyways. Perhaps this man in front of you has a bottle of conscience in his system despite his unkempt look.

Jaehyun only looked at you, face impassive. “You’re not my type.”

You choked on your own saliva. “You’re unbelievable.” You ignored his smirk as you sauntered up to the door. Both of you were enveloped in a silence, the only noise coming from the keys jamming into the keyhole.

Another darkness greeted you as you opened the door, you searched for the switch with your sweaty hand. The metal tang the keys left on your palm wafted your nose, making you feel gross and dirty.

You wrenched the keys out of the hole as the light finally infiltrated the living room. Your brow shot up when Jaehyun made no move to enter the house.

“Invite me first,” he stated.

If you could raise your brow higher, you would. His question was unexpected for someone itching to enter your house mere minutes earlier.

“Come… in?” You reluctantly offered.

There was mischief and bad news in his eyes as he stepped inside the house. “So the authorities would say that you invited me willingly.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” You demanded, gripping the doorknob tightly.

He only winked at you. But you are not having any of it. It was a bad idea inviting this stranger inside.

“Get out.” You ordered. Jaehyun attempted to say something but you repeated the words with enough ferocity. “Get out!”

He held up his hand, his right pulling out something from his pockets again. A paper.

“Here.”

You stared at the paper for a good two minutes before you snatched it away from his hand.

This is to certify that the apartment owned by Johnny and Y/N Y/L/N has been sold and therefore owned by Mr. Jung Jaehyun.

No. No, no, no. The paper must be a trick. It’s probably a forged paper made by this man in front of you to take his advantage and trick you.

“This is forged.” You balled the paper and threw it his way. Jaehyun picked it up with bloodied fingers. His shirt was now saturated with his blood. But you could not bring yourself to care now that he poses a threat to your safety.

“Forged? Do you not recognize the lawyer who signed this paper?” He started to flatten out the paper again. “The best in town. You could go to his office right now to inquire about this. But I won’t waste money if I were you.”

For the second time that night, you snatched away the paper from him. It was completely crumpled, but the texts printed out were still glaring at you. You skimmed the printed letters with your head spinning, eyes only stopping when you see three signatures below. One for your brother, one for Jaehyun, one for the attorney. It was signed by a pen, that much you’re sure of. Being an architecture student familiarized you to different type of pens. You’re certain they had used a ballpoint pen to sign the contract.

Still, you went dumbfounded as you let the realization hit you. Your brother, Johnny, just sold your apartment for this blood soaked guy in front of you.

“Since when?” You asked through gritted teeth, not looking up from the papers.

Jaehyun let out a frustrated sigh, his hand clamping his wound. “Since last week.”

“Will you…” You sighed, it was so difficult to get the words come out, “… will you let me stay the night? I promise I’ll go first thing in the morning.” Your hand which is holding the paper shook. Mixed feelings of anger, shame, and confusion swirled in your head.

Jaehyun waved his hand before sitting on the sofa, his bloodied hands imprinting the arms of it red. You bit back the anger as you realized that you have no rights to be angry.

“You could stay the night, of course.” He reclined his head, “But stitch me up first before you go packing.”

How had he managed to stay alive with the loss of too much blood, you have no idea. But you shook your head and declined him again, “I don’t know how. You might get an infection.”

“Needle… I need a needle,” He breathed and shut his eyes, you panicked as you thought he passed out already. But then he opened his one eye and fixed it to you, “I’ll do it myself.”

“Why don’t we just go to the hospital?”

It was embarrassing that you only thought of the idea now. But Jaehyun only snorted, “Trust me, that’s the last resort you’d think of if you truly knew me.”

There is no point talking to him. His mouth pours metaphors you could not be bothered to comprehend. So you trudged the distance to the small drawer laying just below the television and grabbed the sewing kit inside.

You laid it on the table. Jaehyun groaned before grabbing the needle and the thread. He does not look pained. He looks more tired. And only when you were sitting beside him you noticed how pale he appeared to be. His lips looked wan, his face pallid.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hos—”

“No,” was his monosyllabic reply. You didn’t press any further.

Jaehyun started to insert the thread through the needle, but like his dreaded attempts to lit his cigarette earlier, his aim to get the thread through the little hole went in complete vain. “Fuck,” he muttered as the pin dropped on the floors.

“Let me.” You finally offered before picking up the needle and seizing the thread from his grasp. With your one eye shut close, you dampened the needle with your tongue before thrusting it through the hole. In a blink, you succeeded.

“Here—” You were cut off once again when Jaehyun’s body fell back on the sofa. His eyes closed. The nervous and shock kicked in your stomach as you leaned closer to him but felt nothing in his chest. He doesn’t look like he is breathing, too.

“Oh my God, don’t fucking die.” You repeated the words as you grabbed your phone and dialed nine-one-one. Sweats started to form in your forehead, your own heart beating in a panic-stricken rhythm.

The ringing stopped, and the voice of the person from the other side greeted you calmly.

“I— there’s— I—” Your words are incoherent from the panic that is vibrating from your head to your toes. The person tried to calm you down but to no avail. You inhaled and exhaled, mind blank. “I—” Then a hand grabbed your wrist. You jumped in your seat, only to see Jaehyun, wide-eyed looking at you.

“I told you, no doctors.”

“But— how— what?” How is he alive?

“I am fine. Just really need to stitch this up so I could recover easily.” Then his eyes started to lose their life again.

“Don’t! Don’t sleep! Stay awake!” You screamed at him. Jaehyun began to lose consciousness again. The forgotten thread and needle was back on your hands in an instant. Loud sets of profanities reverberated from your mouth as you lifted his shirt. You exhaled as you saw the long laceration starting from beside his navel to his waist.

“I can’t do this alone, I just can’t.” You swallowed, praying that his innards won’t slide out of his stomach. Where did he get this wound?

“You have no other choice, have you?” He whispered, voice straining. “Just close it and stitch it. I won’t scream,” he expressed.

“That’s not my problem! What if.. what if I’ll make it worse?”

“You won’t.” Jaehyun looked at you with hooded eyes.

This is not what you’ve expected to come home to. The schedule was to go home, eat, shower, and start your plates. Stitching up a long god-forsaken wound wasn’t on your to-do list.

You closed your eyes, trying to inhale and exhale. When you felt like your mind was clear of worries, you finally opened your eyes and started to hold Jaehyun’s skin. The tang of blood filled the whole room, your fingers sliding as it touched his bloodied skin. You let out a breath before clamping the open wound with your fingers, your other hand working its way to pierce the needle into his skin.

Goosebumps ran down your spine as you felt the needle pierced his flesh. White thread came out red as you pulled it to fasten his skin back together. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand as you pushed on with your work. With each pierce and puncture, your tension and the shaking of your hands lessened.

“Are you okay?” You asked Jaehyun when you were finally in the middle of the wound. He did not utter a word ever since you started; not a protest nor a painful scream.

“Yes… it does not hurt.” His voice came out as a whisper that you doubted his answer.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“If I am in your position right now, I would’ve screamed like hell. Imagine, we didn’t use any anesthesia, but you still managed to look comfortable and calm,” you mumbled, trying to keep Jaehyun awake.

“Do you wanna know why?”

“Why?” A small chuckle resonated from your throat then. Jaehyun popped an eye open, and you waited for some dramatic lines like ‘I’m used to the pain’ to escape his lips, but his answer drew you to a sudden halt instead.

“Because I am a vampire.”

previous | next

[malfoymanortings]

florescent adolescent PART 3

SUMMARY: Fred Weasley has been drawing the eldest Malfoy daughter since his third year of Hogwarts. Elara Malfoy has fancied Fred Weasley since her fifth year at Hogwarts. It is during their final year, that the two of them do something about the mutual attraction.

PAIRING: Fred x OC older Malfoy sister

hello! heres the third installment to Fred and Elara. hopefully you all enjoy! somebody else part three will be posted soon as well.

Fred was starting to get frustrated.

Elara was now avoiding him at every chance she got, and he never got another opportunity to sit next to her in Potions class. Daphne Greengrass was back to sitting next to Elara, and Fred had seen the dark haired girl glaring at him more than once. 

He couldn’t get Elara out of his mind, and even George was starting to worry for him.

“Freddie, maybe you should stop,” cautioned George, staring at his brother who was intensely focusing on his newest drawing of the serpent princess. “I’m a bit worried about you, mate.”

“George, I’ll say this once more, and not again,” Fred didn’t take his eyes off his drawing, adding in the flecks of green and blue he now knew very well. “If I were able to stop, I would. But she’s.. Different.”

“You’re right, she’s different!” George shouted, startling Fred with his intensity. “Did’ja forget we’re in a war, mate? And she’s a bloody Malfoy!”

“She isn’t evil, George,” Fred shook his head, annoyed at his twin. “I can feel it.”

“You sure she didn’t slip you a love potion?” badgered George, worry for his twin clear in his tone. “I’ve never seen you act like this, not even over Angie.”

“I’m going to make her mine, Georgie,” declared Fred, snapping his book shut. “Even if she resists it.”

Fred got off his bed then, and George eyed him with caution. 

“Freddie where-”

“I’ll see you later, Georgie.” Fred slipped out of their dorm room, heading out of the Gryffindor Common room. 

Although he wasn’t quite sure where to find her, he did have a pretty educated guess as to where she could be. After all, this was the girl Fred had pined over for years. He may have grown out of his admittedly stalkerish fourth year phase, but he still kept tabs over the silver haired beauty. Old habits die hard.

Fred passed by a few Hufflepuffs as he made his way to the astronomy tower, starting with the least likely place he would find her. Perhaps he should have asked Harry to borrow the Marauders Map for this, but the idea had occurred rather too late for that. 

To his dissatisfaction, the astronomy tower was empty safe for a Ravenclaw and Slytherin fifth year couple that were getting more than a little handsy. Fred had quickly left after that, shouting over his shoulder about the contraceptive spell. The red faced Slytherin boy had sent a hex after him, which Fred narrowly dodged.

A smirk on his face, Fred checked the library next. He then ventured out to the grounds, even the hall outside the Slytherin common room, but no luck. He admitted his defeat, and sullenly made his way back to his common room. 

It wasn’t until the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match that he got to see the girl that invaded his every thoughts. 

Elara shook Angelina’s hand before the match, keeping her eyes narrowed on the dark haired girl. She seemed to shake with more force than usual, a slight curl to her lip. Fred found that odd, as she was always much more composed than the rest of her house. Particularly, her brother.

Speaking of her brother, he seemed to have thought himself quite the song writer. He, along with the other Slytherin’s on the field, began singing Weasley is Our King. Fred saw Elara giving her brother several sharp looks, although she did not say anything to him. She didn’t sing the song either, so that was the only brightside to the situation. As much as Fred wanted to watch Elara’s every move, he had a game to play. And, unfortunately, Ron wasn’t the best addition to the team. Thankfully, Harry caught the snitch rather quickly, and the game was over. Gryffindor had won.

Fred was shaking Harry’s hand after the match when he heard his annoying voice saying something out of the ordinary. He turned then, to where Draco was drawling something out to Ron, and paid attention this time when he spoke.

“-We couldn’t fit in useless loser either, for his father, you know.”

Fred stiffened, as did George. He realized that Malfoy had just called his mother fat. And his father a useless loser. He began to see red.

“Leave it,” Angelina said at once, taking Fred by the arm. 

Draco said more, this time speaking down on their house, his family fucking home, and it took the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia, and Katie to hold Fred back. George was being held back by Harry. Draco was laughing openly, not seeing his sister coming up behind him with a dark look on her face.

“Shall I be writing father, and letting him know how you gloat after winning?” Elara slapped Draco upside the back of his head, causing Draco to flush and turn around to sneer at her. “Perhaps I should let mother know about your foul mouth.”

“Shut it, Elara,” fumed Draco, raising his eyebrows at her. “Father would agree with me.” He turned his attention back to Harry, a nasty smirk on his face. “We were talking about it, father and I. We think the reason you like the Weasleys so much is because the stink reminds you of your mothers place, a reminder-”

Fred watched as Harry let go of George, both of them running to the younger Malfoy. Harry sank his fist into Malfoy’s stomach, and George began attacking his face. Fred strained against the girls holding him back, wanting desperately to have his go at the git.

“Stupefy!” shouted Elara, aiming at Harry and George. The spell hit them instantly, knocking them on their feet. Draco lay on the ground, clutching his bloody nose.

Madam Hooch came over then, and set everyone straight. George and Harry were herded to McGonagall’s office, and Elara had hoisted Draco off the ground, a passive look on her face.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” Elara reprimanded her brother, who was moaning on about his nose. “Dunno what else you expected.”

“Bugger off,” Draco snapped out, his hand still holding his face. 

The two left the field, and finally Fred was released from the three girls hold. He glared at the girls, and stormed off the field. He planned on confronting Draco himself.

He could just barely catch the glimpse of Elara’s long hair swishing around a corner, and he followed after her. It seemed odd to him, that she was heading towards the Gryffindor common room rather than the nurses office. 

Fred was even more surprised to see it was just her, and she was approaching McGonagall’s office. The words that came from her mouth shocked him even more, especially when he realized she was standing up for them to Umbridge.

“Professor Umbridge, I assure you that Draco instigated the fight,” her voice was firm, poised. “There’s no need for you to ban those three from playing Quidditch. Draco should not have been such a poor sport.”

“Now now, Miss Malfoy,” simpered Umbridge, and Fred had to resist the urge to punch the woman. “How lovely of you to apologize on your brothers behalf. Yet another example of why violence is not needed. No, my decision still stands. However, it is very noble of you to be the bigger person. Ten points to Slytherin.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted, Professor,” Elara began, but was promptly cut off.

“My decision is final, Miss Malfoy,” Umbridge’s voice was sickly sweet. “Now, perhaps you should go check on your brother.”

“Yes, ma’am.” replied Elara, a hint of frustration in her tone. 

She turned then, catching eyes with Fred who was standing there stone faced. She bit down on her plump lip, and Fred was reminded of how it felt when he kissed her that day.

Elara walked over to Fred, motioning for him to follow her. He did, of course. He thought that he might follow her anywhere. 

Fred followed her all the way to the astronomy tower, surprised that she had brought him to the place they had fucked. He crossed his arms, watching as she walked over to the railing, looking out into the night sky. Walking across the room, he stood next to her, leaning against the railing, waiting for her to say something. 

“I apologize about Draco,” Elara started, her eyes still on the twinkling sky. “He’s a prat, I know, he has a big head, but he’s still my brother. Unfortunately.”

“I don’t want an apology from you,” Fred shook his head, his fingers clenching the metal railing as Draco’s words floated through his head again. “And I don’t expect one from your brother, either.”

“What do you expect, then?” asked Elara, tilting her head to look at him. 

In the dying light of evening, she looked ethereal. It made his breath catch in his throat, and he suddenly felt angry at her. Angry that her brother was an ass, angry that her family was who they were, angry that she had just walked away after they had sex. 

Angry that he thought he might love her.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” scowled Fred, raising an eyebrow and sucking in his cheek. “You’ve made it clear that it won’t get me anywhere.”

“Excuse me?” snapped Elara, facing Fred and crossing her arms. Her Quidditch uniform swayed in the wind, her hair swishing behind her. 

“I can’t expect anything from you,” repeated Fred, shrugging his shoulders. He, too, crossed his arms. “You fucked me, and then you left. You ignored me.”

“Course I did,” Elara retorted, her nails digging into her arms. “You got what you wanted. You got to fuck Elara Malfoy, unattainable Slytherin. Then, you got to go run and tell your friends. That’s all you wanted from me. I knew not to expect anything more from you.”

Fred openly gaped at her in disbelief. How had she gotten that in her head? “What the bloody hell gave you that impression?”

“Daphne told me,” sneered Elara, swinging her arms down and balling her fists up at her sides. “I told her what happened, that I might have feelings for- anyways, she told me that would be the only reason you would fuck me. As a trophy.”

“Blimey, you’re impossible,” Fred tossed his hands in the air. “I never once said that! Or did that! I want something more with you. Can’t you see that?”

Elara was silent. So was Fred. He studied her reaction, the clench in her jaw, the tensed way she kept digging her nails into her palms. He saw when she decided to leave and run away again, and he caught her arm before she could.

“Let go of me-” Elara began, but was cut off as Fred pulled her into him. He looked down at her, and pressed his lips to hers.

He gave Elara plenty of opportunity to pull away, but to his happiness she didn’t. Instead, she melted into his arms, her soft lips moving in sync with his. She parted her mouth, and Fred licked into hers, feeling himself begin to be aroused when she moaned softly into his mouth. 

Fred pulled away then, unwilling to go further until they were both on the same page. He watched as Elara slowly opened her eyes, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“Elara..” Fred trailed off, clearing his throat. He kept her in his arms, his hands entangled in her soft hair. “I want you, if you’ll have me.”

“Fred,” Elara paused, biting down on her lip again, distracting Fred for a moment. “My family wouldn’t approve.”

That stung, he had to admit. Had he known she would say that? Of course, he wasn’t daft. “I’m not asking about your family's opinion, love. I’m asking for yours.”

“I can’t,” Elara shook her head, and Fred felt his heart break then. “I care for you, but I can’t.”

“Can’t we just try?” pleaded Fred, his grip on her tightening. He didn’t want to lose her before he got her.

“We can’t,” Elara gently broke out of Fred’s embrace, and he felt colder. “My family wouldn’t approve. I can’t say yours would, either, honestly. My brother has made it his life mission to torment Ron and Harry.”

“Mine would just want for me to be happy,” Fred responded quickly, shaking his head. “Malfoy or not. Aren’t yours the same?”

She looked away from him then, biting her lip again as tears formed in her eyes. “Not really, no. Look, I’m going to go now. I hope you find someone, Fred. Someone good.”

For the second time, Fred watched as the girl who held his heart left him alone in the astronomy tower. He wondered why, exactly, she didn’t think she was good for him. He wondered what exactly it was like to be a Malfoy.

He found that he pitied the thought.

However, he knew now, that she did have feelings for him. He had caught her slip up. He would do whatever it took now, to get her to be with him. Perhaps, he had to begin a more... unconventional approach. He just hoped Angelina would be on board.

[couchpotatoaniki]

Gentleman (A Valentine’s Special)

A mysterious stranger ends up at your door, looking for a place to stay. But is he who he says he is? More importantly, what is he doing to you?

Pairing: Special Agent!Jungkook x Famer! Fem!Reader Genre: Greek God AU, 1950s AU, fluff, minor angst, suggestive, suspense Warnings: Creepy behaviour, slight yandere behaviour, coercion (?), implied smoking Word count: 5k+

NOT EDITED

14th February 1955 Britain Ten Years After World War II

“Hey! Come back here!”

Your yelling could be heard throughout the massive coop as you chased one of your rebellious chickens. The hen clucked back at you, running away--talons ready to fight--as her wings beat the air with such vigour, some feathers came off her body.

Clutching your knees and holding the side of your waist tightly, you paused where you stood to catch your breath. Intense pain began to subside slowly, but you thought it would be better if you do not push yourself, seeing as though toady’s activities were more taxing than usual.

Making eye contact with the devilish chicken, you glared hard at her. “You may... have won the battle, Leslie... but you will not... win the war.” Stretching your back, you began to walk out of the coop--but you turned around to give one last warning. “I’ll get you one day.”

She clucked in response, as if the bird was taunting you. You decided not to go further and left, making sure to lock the coop well so she didn’t escape.

Looked up at the setting sun to see that it was almost six-ish, meaning that your own dinner was about to start... right after you feed the rest off the animals.

Thankfully, you saved the best for last. You own pet--a Scotch Collie with kind eyes and fuzzy fur. She was actually your parents’ parting gift before they had to leave for the war. Called her Pepper because she always made Papa sneeze badly, from his terrible allergy.

She barked, running in a circle in anticipation for her meal. You never really understood why dogs were o excited to eat the same food for the rest of their lives--especially now that you had begun to appreciate different foods after rationing for years.

That’s why you were thoughtful enough to try and at least mix things up, feeding Pepper diverse foods with flavour since your farm definitely had the facilities to do so.

Leaving your dog outside in her doghouse so she could play for a bot after her food, you went inside to start making your own dinner with almost every ingredient grown at the farm.

Chicken tetrazzini, Mama’s recipe.

Best part about it, was that it had made enough for a midnight snack too, as well as covering for tomorrow’s lunch and dinner. After all, it was made for four people.

Everything was set--the food on the table, plate and cutlery set out, even went one step further and put some fresh flowers in the clear glass vase. Huff escaped past your lips as you sat down, finally feeling the stresses of the day melting away.

Apparently someone else had a different plan, since when you were just about to take a bite of the meal you had spend almost two hours cooking, a knock on the door had interrupted.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! What can a woman do to get some peace?!”

Another knock beckoned her, hast in its rhythm, begging for attention.

“Alright, alright,” you signed, chair screeching against the hard wood of the floor and you pushed away and stood up.

Was a short walk from the table to the door, but it felt long now that your body had gotten a taste of relaxation before it had to move again. Obviously, you would be grumpy. Who comes this late in the evening anyway?

Opening the oak door, it revealed a dashing young man, around your age, in an expensive-looking black suit with a matching hat and beige trench coat, small leather suitcase in his hand.

Almost blended in with inky night sky, a full moon already high in the sky.

His expression was blank as he held up a badge--an officer’s badge. Golden surface sparkled under the soft lightbulb, displaying letters that spelt ‘National Crime Agency’.

‘Straightforward,’ was the first impression you got.

The ring on his left hand, which he used to hold the badge up, did not go unnoticed either. Gold with diamonds sewn into the thick metallic band.

‘Filthy rich,’ was the second impression.

His hair was ebony, silky and smooth--as was his skin, by the look of it. To say he was handsome was an understatement, not like you paid much attention to such trivial matters.

“I am Special Agent Jeon Jungkook,” he introduced, voice deep and soothing. Took you off-guard, for a reason you did not know, but your tiredness took over.

“Usually, you'd greet a person with ‘hello’.” Jungkook grunted under his breath--now just as annoyed as you were, from your brazenness, but was about to comply until you sucked in the air through your teeth, making your chest rise and fall. “What can I help you with today, Agent?”

Glancing inside your abode without seeing too rude, he glided his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I need to stay here for the night.”

The sudden request frim the stranger took you by surprise. “Pardon?”

He clicked the muscle in his mouth and sighed, “you heard me, Ma’am.”

“Why can’t you just stay somewhere else?”

“Because, when you’re out here in the countryside, you don’t find many places to stay nearby. The only only inn around here told me to stay here since they were full.”

You suppose it made sense--the nearest inn was usually swamped with tourists passing by, not to mention the owner was your brother’s brother-in-law. Seeing someone as important as a special agent, well it would be common sense for him to send the important an to you.

A notice would’ve been nice, however.

“Okay then.”

Sliding to the side, you let your home become subjected to a stranger who had an air about him you couldn’t shake off. Each step of his as he glided behind you gave you a heavy feeling.

Like every single time his polished obsidian shoes collided with the wooden floor, her heart pounded along side it.

Something was wrong about him; it was a feeling you couldn’t shake off. Even your soul was sending off warnings that this man was not who he claimed to be--not entirely. 

He was perfect... too perfect.

Though his personality was horrible and manners, close to non-existent, he held himself with confidence and elegance. Even spoke in a way that had her knees quaking ever so slightly--

You scolded yourself mentally. No. This was not okay. Jungkook is a married man so having such scandalous thoughts were wrong.

But you had never felt anything close to this for a man you had just met. Naturally, you suspected him.

Luckily, your brother worked in the same place--the National Crime Agency. Could check if he is who he says he is.

“Would you like something to eat? You look famished.”

He paused in the middle of the living room, dropping his suitcase in the corner after taking his hat off. Nodded slightly, his onyx hair bouncing ever so gently. “Where’s the master of the house?” he inquired as you made your way to the dining table in the kitchen.

Jungkook sat patiently at the foot rather than the head, kind enough to assume that it was a taken spot that was not for him. Despite the fact that you had faced inequality all your life, you were still irked by this question. “I’m the master of the house.”

You opened one of your cabinets and took out another ceramic plate that matched your own. As you put in some food for him, he continued his questioning. “So you own this whole farm?” Curtly, you nodded. “But what about your parents?”

“Mama and Papa died in the war,” you causally dropped as you set his place like a good host. Despite your delivery, the event was in no means trivial.

You could still remember the day Hoseok came knocking on your door with a grey, ashen face. The day your older brother had to tell his little sister that their parents were never going to come back home like they promised.

The only reason he could even deliver the news himself was because he worked at the NCA HQ in London for his ‘excellent skills’ and ‘brilliant mind’. That was the reason he was not drafted. That was the reason you were left in charge of the farm.

Not that you hated it, no; you loved these animals you grew up with, the sense of home and of childhood. Familiarity.

Mama and Papa were part of that warmth that made it bearable to run the place and when they had turned cold, you cried up a storm. Damaged your health to the point Hoseok and his wife had to nurse you back to health for a month and help around.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Jungkook mumbled, snapping you out of the trance you were in. “If I may be so bold as to ask...how? I understand your father would have been conscripted, but your mother...?”

“Mama was a nurse out in the battlefield.” Thinking about it made you chuckled a little, a small scoff laced within it. “Stayed together throughout the war and died together. Always  said they loved each other too much to live without the other. Looks like God made that wish come true...or the Germans. Whatever one you believe has more power.”

He too laughed at your little venomous comment, very much amused by the way his smile grew and eyes crinkled at the corners. “Germans are still somewhat powerful, and so is God... or Gods and Goddesses, depending on beliefs.” Elbows on the table with one hand enveloping the other, Jungkook rested his chin on his knuckles and cocked a brow. “So which one applies to you?”

You let out a long exhale, you returned to you seat to take that much needed bite while you thought on it. “I... The Germans aren’t all bad. A lot of them were brainwashed or threatened.” You toyed with the food on your plate, finding that you were not feeling all that hungry anymore.

“As for ‘God’... Well, I gave up that belief a long time ago,” you whispered, painfully taking in another morsel. anything to full you mouth with anything other than bitter words that burned your throat.

“And ‘Gods and Goddesses’?”

“I’d be open to the idea, though I’m not very fond of it either from my studies of them,” you mused. “Religion just isn’t my thing. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

Humming, Jungkook took a sip of his water. Failed to notice that he was already halfway done with his dinner. “And your husband?”

“Never had one,” you answered nonchalantly, like it was normal for a 25 year-old woman to be single and living in a household all by herself, working too.

This would have been a shocker to the agent had he not known about your status. You were a woman with much potential, who could have anyone in the world if you wished. Even him.

Especially him.

Only him.

“So, why are you here?” You figured it was a good idea actually ask the man why he was staying in your house in the first place. 

But Jungkook was not biting. “Classified.”

He bit his lower, plump lip softly, the simple action having your mind run around. Exploring the idea of a touch from the pair against your skin, having your own lip to be between your teeth instead.

You shook the thought the moment you realised it had entered in your mind. He’s married, he’s married, he’s married.

Breaking the intense eye contact you had, you quickly excused yourself, needing to check who this person was. Never had you felt an attraction to someone you never met and that itself had set off alarms in your head.

You trudged up the creaky stairs to your bedroom, where the rotary dial telephone was out of Jungkook’s earshot. Once you put in the number, you had the earphone pressed against your skin, fingers tightening around the red handle.

“Come on... pick up,” you muttered. Your payers heard by the click that was followed by the high-pitched voice of your sister-in-law.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Elise? It’s Y/N.” Your volume was still kept relatively low, despite no one being around you.

The voice at the other end sounded very pleased to hear from you. “Y/N! It’s been so long! How are you?”

“Good, good. What about you and the little baby bump?”

“Both of us are as fine as dandelions in spring!”

“That’s wonderful!” Your eyes sifted momentarily to the door. “Listen, I’d love to continue chatting, but I need to speak to Hoseok. Urgently.”

“Oh! Okay, let me catch him!”

“Thank you, you angel.”

As Elise went to retrieve her husband, you couldn’t help but think about your wonderful friendship with her. How perfect she was for Hoseok and vice versa. Unfortunately a forbidden thought--’forbidden’ by your standards--creeped in.

What if you yourself had found such perfect love?

What if it was with Jungkook?

The weird sound in your head was not familiar or normal. Beyond odd. The mere idea of being with a married stranger sent shivers down your spine. Ones you did not like.

Something was awry.

“Y/N?” your brother’s joyous voice spoke from the other end. “I miss you!”

“I miss you too, Hobi,” you giggle a little, forgetting your worries momentarily. Between your tiring day and his busy one, time for themselves was rare, nevermind calls.

This felt like a wonderful opportunity to talk to him, one you had to sadly decline due to a more pressing matter that you believed was sat at your dining table downstairs.

“So, Hoseok, I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know anyone called ‘Jeon Jungkook’ where you work?”

Silence overtook the line for a few seconds. “Yeah... Cold but kind. Massive flirt, though. Wears a ring but isn’t officially married to anyone. In fact, no one’s ever heard him talk about a significant other... weird.”

For some odd reason, happiness began to swell in you chest upon hearing that. No matter how hard you tried to push it down, it was still there.

“N-Nothing. Just... he showed up at the house. Wanted to check in to see if he was telling the truth.”

“Did he not show you his badge?”

“He did, but I wanted to double check.”

A soft hum could be heard, then the tone of your brother’s voice became much more serious. “Quick question. Why is he at the house?”

“Wouldn’t you and I both like to know... but a part of it is that apparently John’s inn is full.”

“...Alrighty, then. Was there anything else?”

“N-No...” you trailed off, eyes shifting to the door. She could feel a presence on the other side, listening in. Must have been Jungkook, though you certainly would have heard him coming up the creaky staircase. “Call you later.”

“O-Okay, b--”

You immediately ended the call, focus narrowed on the strong wood as you crept towards it, careful not to make any noise. Fingers wrapped around the doorknob, blood rushing from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, heart pounding. Swinging it open, the hinges squeaked from the sudden movement.

Empty stretch of corridor.

When you returned back downstairs to the dining room--stairs creaks as they normally did--you found Jungkook sat in the same position you felt him in, plate empty.

“You should really fix those stairs,” he smiled, having your heart somersaulting in your chest. “Don’t sound very safe.” Running his tongue over his lips, which was of no help to your current condition, he stood to place his plate in the sink. “May you show me to my room?”

You moved to grab his suitcase, ready to bring it upstairs, until his hand reached out quicker, grabbing it. How did he move so quickly? More importantly, why was he so close?

And that scent of his, strong, like bourbon, but a citrusy hint to it. Faint scent of cigarettes on his breath that brushed against the nape of your neck.

It feels warm.

Tumbling away, you sucked in a sharp breath, too aware of the dangerous proximity. Jungkook simply chuckled at your reaction as he lifted the suitcase, muscles popping beneath the fine material of his blazer.

You could not help but notice it, nor could you help but imagine seeing it without the cloth in the way. Even toyed with the image of that very arm holding you up as the pair of you did unspeakable things. Things that--if others found out--would have your respectable position within society lie in tatters.

“What’s happening?” you whispered to yourself, trying to get a grip, yet Jungkook managed to catch it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” you waved off, subtly narrowing your eyes onto him with suspicion. You kept silent after that, walking up the stairs with him following shortly behind you. Under the weight of both of you, the stairs did, in fact, groan loudly, showing that there really was no way he could have come upstairs without you hearing.

What if you were hearing things? What if you were going mad?

The two of you stopped at the end of the corridor, the window behind you letting the moonlight in. Jungkook did not mention it, but the soft glow illuminating your figure made you appear like an angel.

You were his angel.

You opened the door to your right, letting him see inside. Quaint, nice décor, homely. “This is your room. Sorry if it’s a little dusty, I haven’t had a guest in a long, long time. This door opposite is the powder room.” You pointed down the hallway, to the door at the end. “My bedroom’s over there. Don’t be afraid to knock if you need anything.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Corners of your lips quirking for no reason, you remarked, “name’s Y/N.”

“Okay then, Miss Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning...”

Nodding, you watched as he took his suitcase inside. Eyes locked onto each other, only breaking when the door finally separated the two of you.

You looked out the window, shoving both hands in your back pockets as you looked out the window. Harsh winds and dark clouds rolling in fast.

Rain looked likely... and heavy.

“I should probably get Pepper inside.”

What you did not know, was that Jungkook heard you, was looking out into the same scenery as you, then down to the dog house, fenced up with a fuzzy dog inside.

You turned around and walked downstairs, old boards still whining under every step you took with your brown boots.  Opening the back door, you were met with a surprise; Pepper was already waiting in front of it.

You never forgot to lock the fence around the dog house, not when a person had tried to steal her shortly during the war.

Regardless, you moved back to let the dog in. “Sorry, girl.”

You pet her fur, a little cold from the vast wisps of air travelling at a faster rate than usual. Shut the door, then beckoned Pepper to follow upstairs, not like she needed to be told twice, since the eager animal sprinted tot he second floor, all the way to Jungkook’s room and started barking aggressively.

“Pepper, you can’t...” you trailed off mid-sentence when seeing your dog’s behaviour. Crouched--ready to pounce, ears bent and pointed down, two perfect rows of sharp teeth in a snarl. This was beyond the norm; she was usually very friendly.

The brass doorknob twisted slowly and retreated.

An unpleased Jungkook stood in front of her with dishevelled hair and in a plain black shirt paired with plaid pocketed pants, scowling.

You had to admit, he was exceptionally... good-looking in his night-wear. All you wanted to do in that moment was to run your finger through his dark locks, wanting to feel him beneath the tips of your fingers. Finally, you got to see his veiny arms in the short-sleeved top and faintly see this well-built torso under the tight fabric.

Snapped out of it when you saw how Pepper heeled in submission as she whimpered once she saw his annoyed face. Made Jungkook grin and stroke the fur atop her head, going down on one knee. “Good dog...”

Never had you seen such a drastic change in the behaviour of Pepper, and you actually began to worry.

As if hearing your thoughts, Jungkook looked back to you once he stood up. “I’m good at making things like me.”

With a final smile, he shut the door and you took that as the que to retire for the night yourself. Tail wagging, your Scotch Collie happily trailed behind you and settled at the foot of your bed.

You locked the door, double checking that it was secure since, at the end of the day, there was still a stranger staying under the same roof as you. No matter how attracted you were, you could not ignore that fact.

Nothing sat well with you, your mind running wild as you tied your hair into a braid and changed into your nightgown. Was a little showy, but it was fine since no one would come in, not to mention that it was comfortable too.

All of a sudden, a headache formed. Felt like your brain was being torn into two, but the pain spread to your heart as well.

Why is it so warm?

Stumbling, you sat down on your bed and gulped down the glass of water that was on your bedside table. A bit of water dribbled down the corner of your mouth from how hastily you drank it, but it did not help the extreme discomfort you were in.

Heart almost jumped out of your chest from the phone’s loud ‘ttttrrring’ out of nowhere. “Hello?” you said, trying not to make the panting audible.

“It’s me, Y/N,” Hoseok said. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“N-No. I was just about to hit the hay,” you whispered into the earphone, not wanting Jungkook to hear through the walls, no matter how thick they were. “What happened?”

Eyes darted around the room, suddenly more paranoid than called for.

“I thought it was a little weird that Jungkook went to the farm instead of finding another place to stay.”

“He said he couldn’t.”

“I know, but something felt... off.”

You could feel it again, that presence behind the door returned. Pepper got up, couching as she had done earlier and growling at the door. There was someone there. It was not just your imagination. “So? What did you do?”

“I called John and asked him if he met someone from the NCA. He said he didn’t.” You gulped, now feeling the presence behind you, in front of you, all around you. “Then I asked him if he had any rooms available.”

“And?”

“Apparently he did. A few, actually. Been vacant for weeks now. not peak travelling time because of the storm that’s hitting tonight, and front he look of outside, it’s here. So what I want you to do, is I want you to be very damn careful around him.”

“I thought he was your friend.” You still had difficulty trying to process it, especially from how you were feeling, but you tried your best to pay heed to your brother’s words.

“He's a colleague and besides, he lied. I can’t get there for two days since the storm’s really bad. Be wary of him and everything he does until then. He tries anything, you leave immediately and go to the inn.”

“Is he really that dangerous?”

“Yes.”

So you had to spend two days with a man you barely knew, a man whose intentions you did not know. “Okay,” you breathed, starting to get a little light-headed. “Than y--”

In an instant, you stopped talking. You could not hear any growls anymore. You shifted your line of sight to the door, only to find your furry companion gone.

You felt a pressure on your shoulder.

A hand.

No one was in front of her, so they must have been behind her.

“I’ll... I’ll have to call you later.”

“Be safe, okay?”

“Okay. Bye--”

Another hand pried the earphone away for your frozen body and ended the call within a second. Warm, cigarette-scented breath fanned over your exposed neck, triggering goosebumps to erupt all over.

One large hand rubbed up your arm, while the other squeezed the side of your waist. The touch felt familiar despite the fact you had never been touched like this before.

A name came rolling off your tongue so naturally, as you tried to supress an unholy sound. “J-Jungkook...”

“Call me Eros, my love. That’s my real name.”

Confusion and pleasure twisted your face, his lips hovering over the crook of your neck, over the one spot that gave you the most... feeling. He knew it just like that, like he knew your body better than you did.

“Wh-What?” Took all the strength you could muster not to slur your words.

Clearly, it failed.

Your body had detached itself from your hazy mind with nothing commanding it but Jungkook, your neck stretching to the side to grant him better access.

“It’s true.” His head lowered further in, the soft skin of his lips doing wonders. “I’m Eros.”

You tried so hard not to make a noise, your breathing heavy heavy to try an stabilise your palpitating heart. Thighs pressed together for some friction to ease the burning need in your lower body.

“My Psyche... my beautiful Psyche...”

You snapped up, trying to gain control over yourself once more. Turned to face him while he sat on your bed, licking his lips as his eyes racked over your figure, once again basking in the glowing moonlight that entered through your window.

“Did you wear that for me, my love?”

Your face turned as red as a tomato as you tried to cover yourself from his preying stare.

But why did you like the attention?

“No, I didn’t,” you cleared your throat, relaxing your muscles as you recalled Eros and Psyche’s story from your personal studies of mythology.

Seeing as how strange the entire evening was, how nothing was as it was meant to be, you certainly had believed it. Especially when the pain had began to subside only when Jungkook was touching you.

“Wait, I though you had a child; that you were married to Psyche.”

“First of all,” he got of the bed, “that never stopped a God or Goddess. Secondly, what the humans teach is wrong. I never had a child.”

He began taking slow steps towards you, like you were his prey.

“Thirdly, what the humans didn’t tell you, is that when Mother--Aphrodite--granted immortality to Psyche, she only gave it to her soul. The ability to be reborn.” Jungkook looked saddened by it, though the feeling momentarily flickered through his eyes, it was gone just as quick. “Now that I have finally found you, my love, I will grant your body immortality too. So you can stay with me. Forever.”

By now, there was no such thing as personal space, your bodies so close that there was no room left to breathe. Not like this man--or God, technically--had granted you ‘breath’ from the moment you laid eyes on him.

His hand slithered with no shame up the side of your hips, your waist, your chest, and around the back of your neck.

“I know you want to, my love.”

Your mind went blank, numb to everything but his words and his warmth.

“I know you can’t think when you’re with me like this.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, bringing down your defences with Hoseok’s words long discarded.

“I’ve always had this affect on you, you know? From centuries ago to even now.” Jungkook’s lips hovered over the lobe of your ear, soft air very gently stroking the skin as his tongue lightly caressed the skin to make you shiver.

Chuckled to himself as he saw how responsive your body was.

His face moved to the front, to see your heavy-lidded expression, eyes clouded with lust.

Hair dropping over his forehead, bundled-up stands casting a shadow over one eye with the over glimmering under the moonlight that peeked through the raining clouds which pattered against the window.

“Do you love me?”

What little bit was left of your conscious tried to say ‘no’. Tried to protest, that you were your own person and not his long-lost love. But something inside you kept silent.

Jaw tightening, flexing ever so slightly under the soft beam, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. Movement against each other was so familiar, like you had done it before. But you had not, not with him or anyone else, for that matter. His tongue against you own was like a dance you knew from your heart.

Jungkook broke away--too quickly, in her opinion.

“Tell me. Do you love me?”

The only thing that came out of your mouth that second was, “yes.”

Your eyes were glazed over, like you were now an empty shell, yet not empty in any way whatsoever. Brainwashed, yet full of free will.

“I love you.”

Jungkook grinned at you, holding tightly onto your waist to make sure you were not dream. “I love you too.”

He stepped backwards, taking you with him. Just before he reached the bed, he sup you around so that you were the one walking backwards. The mattress hit against the back of your knees, making you fall; your arms tangled around him brought him down with you.

Faces an inch apart, Jungkook dug something out of his pyjama pocket.

A gold ring with small diamonds encrusted onto the thin band in a beautiful and intricate way. The matching pair  to the one wrapped around his ring finger.

Jungkook slipped it on you, and it fit so well, like it was mean to be there.

“There. Now you’re almost complete. We just need to do one last thing, my love.”

With that, he kissed you much more roughly, hungrily, than before as he slipped of the straps of your nightgown.

Pepper, still quiet and hidden in the other room, watched the rain hammer hard and fast against the glass of the windows for the rest of the night.

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | prologue

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

✩ index here ✩

Your favorite thing about living on your own, hands down, was having the freedom to eat ice cream whenever you pleased. 

It had been a hot summer in Seoul, hot enough that you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out without being painfully aware of the sweat on the back of your neck and the space where your thighs touched each other.

Today was hotter than yesterday had been. Sticky and humid, like it needed to rain. You’d gone out with your new friend, Yiren, to shop for some new records. Well, she shopped for records—you bought a cheap ice cream bar from the convenience store around the corner. 

While waiting outside of the record store for Yiren to check out, you leaned against the side of a bench while taking in the area. 

You’d moved to Seoul at the start of the summer, and you still felt like a little fish in a big pond. The big, wide world awaited you, and you were desperate to see every inch of it. 

A couple giggled outside of a bakery next to you. You tried not to stare as the boy, tall and gangly, wrapped his arms around the female and pulled her into his chest. You wondered how it felt to be held like that. 

Across the road, a stark contrast to the pale pink and yellow scheme of the bakery, sat a tattoo shop. Paradise Tattoo, the sign read, in neon blue. A dark haired man, maybe your age or a little older, sat on the steps drinking an iced coffee while bobbing his head to whatever was playing on his earbuds. Even from afar you could make out the sleeve on his left arm, made up of swirls and lines of black ink. 

He lifted his head from his phone and caught your eye. You blinked and quickly looked away, gasping when your sudden movement caused the top scoop of your ice cream to topple onto the street.

“Noooooo,” you whined, a full pout forming on your lips. You’d barely even gotten to take a full bite. 

“Sucks,” you heard Yiren say from behind you. She had a plastic bag of records, so full you were honestly surprised she could carry it. 

You sighed, tossing the empty cone into the trash can next to you. “And I thought today would be a good day.”

Yiren laughed as she bounded up to you, linking her free arm through yours. “It is a good day. You got paid today, remember? What do you wanna do with all your cash?”

You snorted, fully prepared to make a comment about how you needed to save for a security deposit on an apartment. Your eyes drifted back to the tattoo shop, but the man sitting there was gone. You chewed your lip and glanced back at Yiren, nodding towards the shop. 

“I’ve never been in a tattoo shop before. Want to check it out?”

Yiren, as usual whenever you expressed one more thing you’d never done before, gasped dramatically. “You what?! I swear, Y/N, you should be in a museum. You’re so cute.”

When she moved to pinch your cheeks, you swatted her hands away. “Gah. Let’s just go.” 

You dragged her across the street and up the few steps that lead to the front door of the shop. You heard a ding once the door was halfway opened, signaling your entrance. The cool air of the shop comforted you immediately, offering you some relief from the sticky air outside.

It sort of looked how you’d imagined it, but brighter. There was hard metal blasting on the speakers above you, with framed drawings of all sorts of tattoo styles adorning the deep red walls. 

Doubling as a desk, on your left side was a glass jewelry display case with different earrings and bars that were used for piercings in various body parts. Sitting behind this desk was a girl with bright green hair and thick framed glasses. 

“Hi! Do you have an appointment?” she asked cheerily, her tone the complete opposite of what you’d expected. You’d never seen anyone with a neck tattoo, but she had hers proudly displayed—a snake traveling from her chest and around towards the nape of her neck, the head appearing on the other side. 

“Um,” you said, glancing towards Yiren. 

She jumped in. “No. Do you talk walk ins? My friend was thinking about getting a tattoo.” 

“I-” you started, your eyes widening at Yiren. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The girl behind the counter nodded and turned around in her swivel chair, reaching for a big black binder that was sitting upon a shelf behind her. 

“Here, we have some photos and drawings of previous tattoos our artists have done. We have five artists. Youngjae, Jackson, Mark, and Yugyeom. And me, but I mostly do piercings. Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” 

You flipped open the binder, greeted on the first page by a portrait of a very voluptuous, very naked woman that had been tattooed onto someone’s leg. It took a conscious effort not to show your shock, simply because you didn’t need Yiren cooing at you again. 

“Well, I like…” you thought about it as you continued flipping the next few pages, until you came upon a drawing of a rose, a soft pink color that reminded you of the bakery across the street. There was a series of pages full of drawings of flowers, different types and shades of the rainbow. “Who did these? These are beautiful.” 

“Ah,” the girl nodded, leaning her chin upon her hand. “That would be Mark. He’s great at flowers, they’re sort of his specialty. Youngjae does beautiful portraits. Jackson’s shading is unbelievable. And Yugyeom is new, but his lines are incredible.” 

Yiren snickered next to you. “It must be great working with all these guys.” 

The girl raised her eyebrows, an amused smirk on her lips. “Please. They’re not exactly my type.”

Just as Yiren opened her mouth for a follow up question, a male voice called from the direction of the hallway to your left. 

“Dahyun, did you get any napkins from the coffee shop? Yugyeom spilled his shit all over-” 

Looking up, you saw a guy walking towards you. Perfectly styled hair, a chiseled jawline, and tattoos covering both of his very toned arms. He stopped in his tracks, then gave you an apologetic bow.

“Sorry, I didn’t know we had a customer.”

Dahyun rolled her eyes and grabbed for a stack of napkins next to her. “Here. And tell Yugyeom he’s on mop duty tonight.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” The guy saluted Dahyun, then turned on his heel and jogged back down the hallway to one of the rooms. 

“Anyway,” Dahyun continued. “We do take walk ins. It’s been slow today, honestly, so if you wanted to get a smaller piece we could probably make it work. Youngjae’s tattooing someone right now, but other than that, it’s wide open.”

You gulped. Now that it was real, you were feeling a bit panicked. But you were drawn to the image of the pale lilac flower on the page in front of you, as if it was calling to you. As silly as it sounded, just looking at it brought you a sense of calm. 

“Could I… could I get this?” you asked meekly. 

Dahyun turned her head to view the picture, then nodded her head. “Of course. Do you know where you want it?”

You looked at Yiren, a question in your eyes. It had to be somewhere you could hide it. Your parents strongly disapproved of tattoos. To be fair, they disapproved of every aspect of your life already, so how much worse could it get? Still, you wanted the option to cover it up if you needed to. 

“You could get it on your ribs, maybe?”

Dahyun inhaled sharply. “Ah, I wouldn’t recommend that. Hurts like a bitch. Shoulders and hips are pretty painless though, that’s where a lot of newbies get their first.” 

Worrying at your lower lip, you stared down at the flower once more, then up at Dahyun. “The back of my shoulder, would that be okay?” 

“It’s your party, princess. It shouldn’t hurt too much, and if you get it small enough it’ll be over before you know it.” 

Dahyun went ahead and printed out the sketch after you told her just how big you wanted it, and modified the color to a deeper purple. She went back to talk to the artist, Mark, then returned a few minutes later and told you to follow her back. 

“He’s ready for you. We’ll go over all the aftercare and fun stuff once it’s all done, okay?” she said as she led the two of you back to Mark’s room. You stuffed your shaking hands into the pockets of your shorts, not wanting him to see how nervous you were. 

Once you came to the threshold of the room, you first noticed all of the drawings on the walls. Not just flowers, but trees, portraits, still life sketches… all of it. Apparently flowers weren’t the only thing this guy could draw. 

Mark had his back to you, sifting through a box full of colored ink bottles. You realized without even seeing his face that this was the guy you’d seen on the steps of the shop earlier. Up close, you could see more of his sleeve. Right on the back of his arm was a large tattoo of a lion’s face, jaw wide open in a roar. 

“Sorry, go ahead and sit-” he started as he turned towards you, his jaw dropping once he made eye contact. “Y/N?”

It took you a long moment to realize where you knew him from, and it wasn’t just because you’d seen him across the road earlier. You hadn’t seen him in at least six years, but you knew him right away. How could you not have recognized him before? 

You’d practically grown up with him. He’d eaten countless dinners at your family table while your mom fawned over him and pinched his cheeks, asking why your older brother couldn’t be more like him. 

The last time you’d seen him was Taehyung’s going away party just before he left for his year-long backpacking experience in Europe. You’d only been sixteen at the time, but Mark was nine years older than you. 

Besides the sleeve of tattoos and the deep red hair he was sporting, he hadn’t changed much since then.

“Mark?”

full chapter one to be posted march 17th, 7pm est

[siancore]

Title: Baked With Love

A/N: This is a SamBucky Bakery AU based on the graphic novel Bloom

Summary: Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.  

Words: 3,073

AO3 Link

The joyful laughter and chatter rose high above the music as the guests of the backyard wedding danced gleefully. Bucky sat over near the wall and lifted his head to see his sister’s smiling face. Becca looked so happy as she threw her head back and then twirled around the dancefloor. He was pleased for her, and glad that she was finally getting away from their small town, but somewhere deep inside he knew what it meant for him: More time at his family’s Bakery and less of a chance of him actually leaving as well. He frowned to himself and placed his drink down on the empty chair beside him. He watched the smiling partygoers a moment longer until his vision was impeded by a man’s figure.

“Bucky, why aren’t you out there enjoying yourself?” asked his father, George. “It’s your sister’s big day and you’re sat here with a face like a cat’s ass.”

The young man rolled his eyes and said, “I just don’t feel like dancing, Dad. Kinda wanna be alone right now.”

“At a celebration?”

“Yeah.”

George shook his head and said, “I’ll never understand you young people. Today isn’t about you, but you’re making it about you.”

“I’m not doin’ anything, Dad,” Bucky retorted, feeling annoyed. “You’re makin’ it about me. Why can’t you just let me be?”

Before his father could reply, Becca was standing next to George with her hand held out to her brother.

“C’mon,” she said as Bucky took hold of her hand and then stood.

“Where’re we goin’?”

“I just need to talk to you a minute,” she said, before kissing their father on the cheek. “We’ll be back in a sec.”

Becca led Bucky up the stairs into her old bedroom and closed the door. She walked to her closet and pulled out her sneakers before sitting down, kicking off her heels, and pulling the comfortable shoes on.

“Ugh, my feet are so sore,” she sighed as she laced the sneakers. “Glad to get these off.”

“Bec, you wanted to talk?” asked Bucky as he ran his fingers through his hair.

She patted the spot on the bed beside her and Bucky took a seat.

“Can you believe it, Buck?” she asked as she nudged his shoulder with hers. “I’m a married woman.”

He smiled a genuine smile and nudged her back before saying, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know, but you couldn’t tell that from the way you were moping around down there,” she proffered. “That moody musician thing really doesn’t suit you.”

“Sorry. I was just in my own head. I’m gonna miss havin’ you around.”

“Aww, I’m gonna miss you too, Buck.”

“And Dad’s gonna be on my case a lot more now.”

“Hey, he means well, you know?”

“I know, but it’s like he doesn’t support my dreams with the band.”

“He just doesn’t understand,” said Becca as she rested her head on her brother’s shoulder. “All he’s ever known is baking and taking care of his family. He wants what’s best for us.”

“I know, I just want to get outta here so bad, y’know?”

“Yeah, but Mom and Dad are gonna need your help around here for a while,” Becca explained. “Especially with me leaving.”

“You sound like Dad.”

“Well, he’s not always wrong about everything, Buck.”

“He told you to break up with Scott like five times or whatever, and now you’re married, so he’s definitely wrong sometimes.”

“Okay, smartass,” Becca said with a laugh. “All I’m sayin’ is, I’m moving out. The Bakery isn’t doin’ that great, and Mom and Dad are gonna need some help.”

“I get it, and I am helping,” said Bucky. “At least for a little while longer.”

One thing that Sam Wilson really loved about being back in the town where his father grew up was the abundance of fresh food. The fish markets were a literal five-minute stroll from his Gramma’s house, and the grocery stores stocked a lot of fresh, local produce. As someone who loved to cook, Sam was enjoying taking a languid walk through the store, with his shopping basket, while perusing the goods.

While it was only him staying in his family’s old house, his friends were making the trip to come and see him. He had made the decision to take time off from school to pack up his Gramma’s house after she had passed. He needed to get away from it all for a little while, so being in the town that held so many fond childhood memories for him was nice, even though it felt different without his Gramma there.

Sam was drawn from his thoughts by a loud squeal. He turned to see a woman, around his mother’s age, rushing toward him with a wide smile on her face. He did not recognize her, but she seemed to know him.

“Oh my god, Sam Wilson!” she said as she stepped into his personal space and went for a hug.

Sam stood frozen and offered a small smile.

“Hi,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.

The woman stepped back and let her eyes roam up and down Sam’s body before saying, “Look at you, all grown up.”

Her tone was quite suggestive, and Sam immediately felt uncomfortable. She reached her hand over and placed it to Sam’s bicep.

“My word, you look just like your father when we went to high school together,” said the woman as she gave Sam’s arm a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, I –”

“You don’t remember me?” she asked, with a pout and a flutter of her eye lids. “You were just a boy the last time I saw you, now look at you, looking every bit a man. Looking just like your father; goodness me, you’re built like him, too.”

Sam blinked a few times and didn’t say anything.

“What’re you doing here in town? Is your father here, too?”

“No, umm, Dad’s not uh, he’s not here. Just me. I’m packin’ Gramma’s house up.”

“Oh, so you’re here in that big house all on your own?”

“Y-yeah?”

“And you’re buying food to cook for yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am. Gotta eat.”

She dragged her eyes over his form once again and said, “Hmm, you do to keep a body like that well-fed.”

Sam did not know what else to say except to excuse himself.

“I really have to go now, but it was nice seein’ you.”

“Now hold on a minute,” she said, talking hold of his upper arm once more. “A fine-looking young man like you shouldn’t have to cook his own dinner. Why don’t I grab a bottle of wine and join you?”

“Oh, no thank you, ma’am,” said Sam as he began to back away. “That really isn’t necessary. But, uh, thanks for the offer? You have a good night.”

She looked disappointed, but ogled Sam one more time before saying, “Alright, say hello to that handsome father of yours.”

The alarm on Bucky’s phone sounded and he let out a groan. He did not usually have to do the early morning shifts, but since Becca had left, it was up to him. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. A quick shower would liven him up. He got ready and then made his way to the kitchen. His father was already there finishing his coffee. Father and son greeted one another, and Bucky made a beeline straight to the coffee pot.

“Ready for the day?” asked George with a smile.

“Ugh, how can you be so chipper at this ungodly hour?”

George shrugged and said, “I love what I do.”

Bucky didn’t say anything in reply. He wasn’t in the mood to bicker with his father, especially at that hour of the morning.

“Come on,” said George, taking his son’s silence as a hint that the conversation was over. “Let’s get to work.”

….

By the time a few customers started coming into the Bakery, Bucky was tired and covered in flour. They were not going to be baking anything else at that point because sales weren’t particularly great in recent times. Hardly anyone came into the shop anymore. Most of their profits were made from customers who still paid for deliveries.

“You’re back here sitting on your phone, James?” asked George. He only called Bucky James when he was annoyed with him.

Bucky removed his earbuds, lifted his gaze from his screen, and said, “Uh?”

“Your phone, you’re always on it.”

“I’m waiting for Steve to text me back,” Bucky explained. “He’s looking at apartments in the city today. Was gonna send me pics.”

“You’re still going on about moving when we need you here?” “What about what I need?” asked Bucky as he paused the video of his band’s rehearsal. “Look at this.”

He held the phone out for his father to see, put the earbud in his ear, and then pressed play. The music started and George knit his brow as he removed the earbud and handed the device back.

“Son, what is this?”

“It’s my band, Dad.”

“You’re not even the singer.”

Bucky sighed and placed the phone back in his pocket.

“That doesn’t matter. I love music, you know that. Playing in this band with Steve, T’Challa, and Okoye is important to me. We’re gonna get an apartment and move away, Dad.”

“What about helping me and your mother?”

“I am helping.”

“But you’re leaving, also.”

Bucky sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t like being at odds with his father, but he wanted to do what he loved.

“You used to love helping me out in the Bakery when you were younger. Do remember how much fun we used to have?”

“Yeah, Dad, I do. But things change. I just don’t love it like I used to. I love music. When we couldn’t afford for me to go to school to study music, I didn’t make a fuss about it. I stayed here and helped out. Playing in the band with the guys has been good for me.”

“Bucky,” said George as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Me and your mother wanted you to go to college. It broke our hearts when we didn’t have the money to send you. We do want you to do what you love, we’re just having a tough time ourselves with the Bakery.”

Bucky and George stood a moment in the quiet until Bucky spoke again.

“Dad, I get it, and I’m not upset about it. I know we didn’t have the money and I know things have been tough, but I’m still leaving when Steve finds an apartment for us.”

George let out a loud sigh and then began to walk away.

“Wait,” said Bucky, as he reached out took hold of his father’s arm gently. “What if I find someone?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“If I find someone to replace me to help you out at the Bakery,” said Bucky, his eyes lighting up at his idea. “I could find someone really good, and then you’d get the help you need, and I can still leave.”

George sighed and said, “Let’s talk about it later. You should go make your deliveries now.”

Bucky placed the orders to the back of the Moped and then went to do his rounds. He enjoyed this part of working at the Bakery. He enjoyed getting out and about; feeling the wind in his hair; letting his mind go blank a moment in a welcome departure from all of the stress and worry. When he was scooting around town, he felt like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Having made the rounds, Bucky decided to take a shortcut on his way home. He rode up the small street of a residential neighborhood and some movement just ahead caught his eye. A guy, maybe a year or so older than him, was walking down a garden path carrying some trash. It was the day before the trash was to be collected, so there was nothing particularly interesting about it. Except the guy was drop-dead gorgeous.

Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the stranger, who was now looking right back at him. He didn’t know whether to smile or wave. He should have done something, other than stare at the dude like a creep. Perhaps watch where he was going, because just ahead were two trashcans full of smelly, discarded things.

Just before he was about to collide with the trashcans, Bucky regained composure and control, and straightened up. That could have been very embarrassing, he thought to himself, as he sped along home hoping the hot guy didn’t see his near-accident.

Misty Knight was rolling on her bed laughing as Sam shook his head and watched her through Skype. She was absolutely amused by Sam’s retelling of meeting the strange lady in the grocery store the previous evening.

“It’s not funny, Misty,” said Sam, even though he did miss his friend’s laughter.

“Sorry, Sammy,” she said while trying to recover. “It’s just typical, isn’t it? No matter where you go, someone’s hittin’ on you. Even old ass ladies in the grocery store.”

“I can’t believe my Dad knew her.”

“Can’t believe she was so shameless.”

“I know right,” said Sam as he ran his hand over his brow. “And offering to cook for me? Please, I know my way around a kitchen.”

“Oh, no, baby boy,” said Misty with a chuckle. “She wasn’t tryna cook for you, she was tryna eat you.”

“God, Misty, don’t say nasty things.”

“Sorry Sammy.”

“I wouldn’t have been in that situation if you didn’t put in a request for all the things you want me to cook while you’re here.”

“True, but you know I love your cooking,” she said with a smile. “Also, Riley’s comin’.”

“What?”

“He asked if I was going to see you, and I said yes, and he asked if he could come. Is that okay?”

“You should’ve asked first, Misty. But it’s cool. We’re friends and this’ll be a good reminder for him.”

“Plus, he’s got competition from the local thirsty-over-forty-crowd.”

Sam groaned and said, “Ugh. Why do I tell you anything? Change the subject please.”

“Alright. Alright. So, does it feel weird bein’ in the house on your own?”

“Yeah, kinda,” said Sam as he rubbed his hand over the back of his head. “It’s quiet. And feels sad.”

“I’m sorry, baby boy.”

“Thanks, pretty girl,” Sam proffered with a sigh. “It’s just that the last good memory I had was at Christmas time. The house was full of family and great food. Gramma was laughin’ and smiling so much you couldn’t even tell she was sick. She let me help her in the kitchen, and she never let anybody in her kitchen.”

Sam smiled a little sadly and Misty nodded her head before saying, “It’s nice that you got your love of cooking from her.”

Sam nodded his head and then said, “Oh, that reminds me, I found Gramma’s recipe book.”

“Oh my god, Sam, really? You looked for it everywhere after the funeral. Where was it?”

“Was right there on the shelf near her spice rack, Mist, I swear.”

“You looked there!”

“I know, right!” said Sam with an excitable look on his face. “It’s like it was just sittin’ there waiting for me.”

“Did you go through it?”

“Yeah, it’s still the most gorgeous book I’ve ever seen,” said Sam nostalgically. “All of our family’s recipes handwritten by Gramma and her Mama. Then it’s got my pancake recipe she let me write down. It’s so special.”

Sam felt the tears well in his eyes as he spoke; his voice cracked a little. Misty noticed.

“Hey, so you know what you should do?” she asked.

“What?”

“You should cook one of your Gramma’s recipes,” said Misty with a smile. “It’ll make you feel better, Sammy. I know it will.”

Misty was right. Sam had made a small, simple dish from his grandmother’s book. He immediately felt better. A tummy full of his Gramma’s mac and cheese always felt like a warm hug. He was going to be alright. He was.

After Sam cleaned his dishes and tidied up, he went to take the trash out front. He noticed someone flying along on a scooter. It was a young guy, probably around his age. The guy made eye contact and just kept staring at Sam, so Sam stared back, kind of entranced by the way the wind swept through his dark brown tresses.

Sam should have done something, other than stare back at the guy like some kind of creep. A wave or a smile would have done the trick. Instead, Sam was at a loss for words and actions. He almost called out when the guy nearly hit a couple of trashcans a few doors down, but he was gone before Sam could do anything. He walked back to the house wondering if he would ever see the stranger again.

After Bucky returned home, he parked the Moped near the Bakery and then went inside to clean up. After he was done, he locked up he made his way inside his family’s home. Dinner was already on the table and his mother, Winnie, asked if he was going to have something to eat.

“Sorry, Ma,” said Bucky with an apologetic smile. “I’m off to band practice now.”

“You can’t have a meal with your family?” George asked as he stepped into the room and sat down.

Bucky let out a sigh and said, “Music is important to me. I don’t wanna roll dough for the rest of my life.”

He knew his words hurt his father as soon as he had spoken them.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a baker,” was George’s reply. “I know,” Bucky said when he saw the hurt in his father’s eyes. “And I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that music is what I wanna do, and practice will make sure I’m good at it. I gotta go.”

“At least take a bread roll with you,” said Winnie softly.

“Thanks, Ma,” said Bucky as he inched toward the door before stopping. “I’ll make the flyers up later to advertise the position and get them posted tomorrow. It’s gonna be okay, Dad.”