#all of my stuff and clean out bags and like reply to emails. losing it

[pepprs]

my stomach is so crunched up and crinkly rn. like it just ends here? tomorrow night im just like free or something and that’s it and it’s over? i choose to leave and i don’t have to fight and kick and claw and scream at all? but then it’s that im forgetting that i did have to. like i literally really did have to that. and i currently am in a way. and it’s been like a yr and a half of this and i have suffered but im just forgetting it all now. and all of my life here is just stretched out in piles i’ll have to clean up tomorrow anyway before i put them in bags and suitcases. like this is soooooooo

[magicforjournals]

The Green Dress (A Story About Loki)  Chapter 4 : A God’s Lips

RE-UPLOAD - Last upload was missing some parts, my bad!!

Warnings : Explicit (18+)

It’s early in the morning, way earlier than you usually wake up. You barely slept last night; nerves, anticipation, fear even, just twisting your insides and preventing you from getting any kind of rest. You know you’ll eventually have to get up and get ready for work but, you’re just lying in bed, still shell-shocked at the conversation you had with Loki last night.

After receiving his email, you had sat in the shower, letting the hot water hit your skin, for what seemed like hours. Had Loki just asked you on a date? That… That meant he wanted to see you again, he thought of you just as much as you thought of him. He craved your presence just as much as you craved his. You had revelled in the thought of being important to someone like him, a literal god. Finally, you had gathered all of your strength to get out of the shower, grab your phone and sit on your bed to reply to his email. You felt it impersonal to accept an invitation to a date over email and had decided to give him your phone number instead, offering him the option to call you. Within minutes, your phone rang. Heart pounding and hands shaking, you had answered his call. The sound of his soft, deep voice through the phone made you shiver and instantly soak. You wanted him, you needed him. Your conversation, although brief, had been wonderful. You both had agreed that you would be making dinner, and he was to meet you at your apartment at 6 o’clock. You could barely utter a word when he wished you goodnight and sweet dreams before hanging up. You had laid back on your bed, trying to catch your breath. You had just invited a god to have dinner in your home. It wasn’t just any god, it was Loki. Loki who had kissed you with such passion, it had left you weak in the knees for days. Loki who, by only speaking, could make you so incredibly wet. You had slid a hand down your body, imagining it was his hand instead of yours, grabbing your breast, rubbing tight circles on your clit. It didn’t take long for the orgasm to rip, burning hot, through your entire body, making you spasm in pleasure as his sultry voice still rang in your ears, and you had to bite down on your pillow to muffle the loud moan that escaped your lips as you came.

As you lie there thinking about last night, you tell yourself it’s only a couple of hours before you get to see him again. Jumping out of bed, newfound energy bursting through your veins, you get ready in a flash, speeding through breakfast and cleaning up. You call yourself a taxi and get to school way too early, eager to start your day. As promised, your car is waiting for you in the parking lot, however, you see Nat getting out of it as you start walking to the school entrance.

“You’re here early”, she says as she catches up to you, following you inside. There were usually no visitors allowed unless the principal approves it, but since the school is funded by Tony and that Natasha is an Avenger, they never had a problem with her coming in before or after classes. Regardless, she never came during school hours, knowing her presence would be a distraction for the kids.

“Yeah, I could really sleep last night,” you say with a smirk.

“Oh…” She says, intrigued. “Oh, I know that face! What happened?!” She then presses you.

“Well….”, you tease, walking into your classroom. “Loki emailed me last night to ask if we could have dinner tonight.” Nat’s mouth falls open as she hops on your desk, her usual spot to sit.

“Did you say yes?” She asks.

“Yeah, he’s coming over tonight. I’m making him dinner.”

“Holy fuck, you’re joking!” Natasha screams so loud, you have to shush her. “You’re having dinner with Loki Laufeyson TONIGHT.”

“I know, I know. Be careful, he’s the god of mischief,” you say, mimicking her.

“Oh, well yeah obviously! I’ll have my phone with me if there’s any problem, just use the emergency button.” She reminds me. “But I meant you’re having dinner with the man who pinned you against a wall four days ago and kissed you like you’ve never been kissed before. The same man you told me you could not stop thinking about.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your face turning red.

“Are you excited?”

“I’m nervous! I haven’t been on a first date in almost a year Nat! What if he doesn’t like me anymore in the end? There’s something different about him and it terrifies me. If you think about it, I’m just a simple mortal.” You tell her.

“Please, you’ll be just fine. Loki seems very interested in you.” She reassures you. “And you know, I was thinking last night… Loki has been good for a while now… maybe being with you would really change him. I know I have some preconceived notions about him, but everyone is allowed a second chance. I was, so was Bucky and Bruce too…” She trails off. Talking about him was still a sore subject. Bruce had been missing since Sokovia and it had left a gaping hole in our hearts, especially Nats. Over the years, you had watched their relationship slowly flourish, they were quietly flirting and often seeing each other in secret. He was the first man she ever let get herself get close to, and he cared so deeply about her and was terrified of ever losing her. And when he never came back, and when no one could find the Quinjet, Natasha could barely leave her bed. Getting her back on her feet was one of the hardest things you had ever done.

“Hey,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around her, rubbing her back.

“He’ll come back when he’s ready, just give him time.”

“I know,” she says, hugging you back. “I just miss him.” We all did.

You stay like that, holding each other in silence for a while.

“I should go,” Nat says, hopping off your desk. “You call me tonight if there’s anything, right?” She adds, looking you in the eyes.

“Yeah, of course! How are you getting back?” You ask.

“Sam is picking me up, he’s on his way now,” she replies, checking her phone.

“Say hi for me! I’ll call you later ok?”

“Will do! Keep me posted. Love you, bye!” Nat yells as she walks out. You giggle to yourself, unpacking your stuff and getting ready for the day, Tuesdays are your favorites.

The day flew by so fast, it left you a little dizzy. Your students left a while ago and you were finally done cleaning up the mess of the day. You look down at your jeans and there are some mud stains all over them, the WWII reenactment of the day having left its mark. Nonetheless, your students enjoyed it, and you tell yourself to add the activity to the memory board you have in class. As you glance in its direction, you see that the clock above is showing 3:45, and you panic. You didn’t realize how long you had spent cleaning.

You pack up your things as fast as you can, almost running to your car. You need to get home quickly, Loki is coming over in two hours, and you have to make dinner and get ready. You desperately need a shower after running around outside in the mix of snow and mud all day.

Getting home in record time, you drop your bags by your desk. Running to your bathroom as you throw your hair in a bun, you take the fastest shower you’ve ever taken, scrubbing down as quick as you can. Thank heavens you had washed your hair the night prior. Once you get out, you check your makeup for any touch-ups and add a small line of liner and lip gloss. Shaking your hair out of its bun, you like the way it looks and decide to leave it as is. Still wrapped up in your towel, you make your way to the kitchen to start prepping the food that needs to begin cooking immediately. You get everything else out and organize your kitchen. Again, you thank your lucky star that you’re a neat person and you don’t need to clean your apartment before Loki gets here. With most of the dinner cooking, you head to your bedroom to get dressed. Opting for black lace underwear, you open your closet and sigh loudly. What are you going to wear? Why hadn’t you picked out an outfit this morning? You had all the time in the world to get ready? Grabbing your favorite pair of light jeans, skin-tight and which do wonders for your ass, you start browsing through your shirts to find something… anything. You suddenly hear something bubbling and grab an old band shirt you usually sleep in, slipping that on before running to the kitchen to make sure nothing is burnt to a crisp. You’re not the best cook in the world but you can manage to whip up a couple of great meals. Thankfully, nothing was burning, but there were a lot of dishes to take care of.

You were washing the last bowl when you heard the building’s buzzer ringing. Your head whipped around towards the digital clock on your microwave to see it showing 6 pm on the dot. SHIT! You didn’t see the time fly by, and Loki was already here AND you were not even dressed. Shit, shit, shit, shit… Ok, it’s ok. You walk over to the intercom and buzz him in. A little time goes by and you hear a shy knock against your door, making your heart almost jump out of its cavity with how fast and hard it’s beating. Hand on the door handle, you take a deep breath before opening the door.

There he was, standing in front of you, handsome, beautiful as ever. His dark hair combed back, as it was last time you saw him, his green eyes sparkling with joy, his devastatingly stunning smile. He was there. Right in front of you.

“Hi,” Loki says, his smile widening. “These are for you”, he adds, handing you a bouquet of white and pink lilies.

You gasp. “Oh thank you. How did you know lilies are one of my favorite flowers?”

“I guessed, a very fortunate guess as it turns out to be.” You think you might as well die, combust on-site, from how warm he makes you feel.

“They’re beautiful, thank you so much.” You repeat. “Please come in! I’m so sorry I’m not dressed yet, I just finished the dishes.” You apologize, cheeks burning red as he steps to stand in front of you in the entrance.

“I think you look perfect,” he whispers, stroking your cheek slowly. You sigh in content, eyes closing, as soon as you feel his skin against yours, unknowingly leaning into his hand. You both stand there, taking in each other’s presence, for what seems like hours.

“Let me take your coat,” you whisper softly, looking up at him.

“It’s ok darling, get those flowers in some water,” Loki whispers back, your knees buckling under the weight of the nickname.

You slowly nod against his hand still on your face and regretfully make your way to the kitchen, Loki following closely behind. He takes off his coat and hangs it on the back of one of the barstools, as you’re putting the flowers in a vase. Pretending to be focused on the flowers, you let your eyes wander his body, starting from his thighs - the rest being cut off by the counter -, up his waist, stomach, broad shoulders, arms, and back up to his gorgeous lips you crave to kiss, his nose you want to feel nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and his eyes… your own forest you’d run through forever. How could one being be so beautiful? Loki was breathtakingly beautiful, tearing your eyes away from his face was a strenuous feat. Turning your attention to your dinner, you opened the oven to check on the food. You jump and gasp when you feel Loki moving closer behind you, his hand snaking up your hips.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asks, his sultry voice making you dizzy and immediately wet.

“N-no, I have it a-all under control,” you stutter, shooting up from your bent-over position. Loki’s hands are still on your hips when you turn around to face him, resting your hands on his firm chest. You’re standing so close to each other you could tilt your head up and kiss him if you wanted to… and you desperately want to.

“I… umm… should go get dressed.” You choke out. “Can you… keep an eye on the... uh… oven?”

“Of course.” He replies, one hand moving to your hair, tucking a strand of it behind your ear.

You give him a smile and head towards your bedroom, where you collapse on your bed as soon as you reach it. Holy shit, this man is going to be the death of you, with his voice, his touch, and his eyes. Every time he spoke, the heat in your belly sparked up to a hellish blaze, making you weak in the knees. He’s waiting for you out there, don’t be a coward, get up, you finally tell yourself. Taking your shirt off, you walk to your closet to figure out something to wear, yet again.

“Oh! I am so sorry, I should have announced myself,” Loki says from your bedroom door, and you jump, grabbing the closest piece of fabric to cover yourself up.

“Oh God!” You scream, your hand flying up to your chest, heart pounding. With a single step, Loki crosses the distance between the two of you, his palms up as to hold you, but he stops himself.

“Hey - hey there, it’s just me. I am so sorry I scared you darling.” He whispers softly, trying to calm you down.

“I- uh, it’s ok. I just didn’t hear you coming.” You say, trying to slow down the cascading beat of your heart. And then it hits you. The piece of fabric you had grabbed to cover yourself with was the cream coloured blouse you had bought months ago but never wore for the simple reason it was way too sheer. So sheer in fact, it meant that Loki could clearly see through it, he could see your naked stomach and black lace bra. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned bright red, scrambling to find something else to cover up with.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realize you could see everything.” You apologize profusely.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his tone of voice stopping you in your tracks. You turn to look at him and you see his eyes exploring your body, admiration pouring out of them. He steps closer to you, grabbing the hand you were using to search with, and running his up from your wrist to your shoulder, slowly tracing your collar bone, before making it way up your neck, gently across your cheek and getting lost in your hair. You moan softly under his touch, the blouse falling quietly on the floor as you reach for him with both hands.

Before you know it, your lips meet, sending jolts of electricity through your body. You reach your arms up and wrap them around Loki’s neck, pulling him closer to you. Your sudden burst of passion makes him groan under your touch and he deepens your kiss, teasing the tip of his tongue in between your lips as he pins you against the wall, igniting a burning desire in you. You feel his hands slide from your hair slowly down to the small of your back, resting there for a moment before cupping your ass and he lifts you up in his arms. You gasp against his mouth as you wrap your legs around his waist, surprised at his strength. He keeps kissing you as he walks you over to the bed, laying you down gently. For a moment, you’re both just staring at each other, eyes full of desire and catching your breath.

“Are you sure?” Loki asks, brushing hair out of your face and then carefully brushing his thumb against your swollen lips. You part them, taking his thumb in your mouth and slowly sucking on it as you nod. The soft moan that comes out of his lips as you suck on his digit sets off an even hotter fire through your belly. Loki crashes his lips against yours, his hands roaming your body. He moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and biting love marks all over it, as you fumble around with the buttons on his shirt, the task being a lot more difficult with this man’s lips all over you. As soon as the shirt falls open, you’re frozen, your eyes roaming his strong, sublime body, hands running over the contours of his stomach, absolutely mesmerized.

“You’re so beautiful,” you echo Loki’s words.

Capturing your lips again, he starts kissing down your neck again, making his way to your chest. Slowly running his right hand up your body, he cups your breast as he licks the other one through the lace of your bra and you’re moaning, your back arching under his touch.

“That’s where you’re wrong, you are beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, making you shiver. “So beautiful, how could I ever live without you anymore.”

Loki begins kissing his way down your stomach, undoing your pants slowly and brushing his lips across your lower stomach. You whimper as he pulls your jeans off and comes back up, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your panties, kissing your thigh as he slides them down too. His hands are back on your inner thighs before the rest of him is, and you’re throbbing, clenching, soaking even more, just knowing that his fingers are inches away from where you need him most.

“Is this ok?” he asks you softly, feeling his hot breath between your thighs.

“Yes.” And his tongue is on you, parting you so incredibly slow, you think you might pass out. You’re wet, you know that, and he knows that too as he moans against you, licking small little circles around your clit. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, every bone in your body fighting against the urge to scream out his name. You feel his nose pressed up against you as he’s devouring you like you’re the last meal he’ll ever have, his hands gripping and squeezing your thighs, your hips, your waist. He slowly retreats, letting his fingers tease you for a little as he flashes you a quick smile, eyes burning with desire, and you feel a thick single finger slide excruciatingly slow inside of you.

“Fuck!” is all you can manage, every other word and sound stuck in your throat.

Loki starts pumping his finger, in and out, out and in, getting faster and faster, adding a second one and sucking on your clit so hard, you’re about to cum. You grab fistfuls of his hair as you arch your back into him, begging him to keep going, to lick you more. You scream as you cum all over his fingers, the orgasm sending violent spasms throughout your entire body. As you’re trying to catch your breath, his mouth leaves you, making it harder for you to breathe, and he kisses you. He tastes like you, and all you can think about is wanting to make him feel as good as he just made you feel. Sitting up on your elbows, still kissing him, you bring him closer to you, sliding your lips from his mouth to his ear, catching his ear lobe in between your teeth and whispering softly, voice still rough from your orgasm.

“Please… let me touch you.” He groans against your neck and flips you, so he’s lying on the bed. Loki grabs your face and kisses you passionately as you unbuckle his belt and take his pants and briefs off. You’re astonished at how big he is, thick and long, already hard for you. You kiss his stomach as you slide a hand down, wrapping your fingers around him as he throbs, and slowly start pumping your fist. The sound that makes his way from his chest and out his lips is almost enough to make you cum again, and you slide your mouth down, licking that small bead of precum from the tip and wrapping your mouth around him, sucking softly. Loki moans your name, grabbing a handful of your hair, as you start bopping your head, accentuating your movement with your hand. Before long he’s pleading for you to stop, his hips spasming, making him thrust into your mouth. Retreating with an audible pop, you giggle as you take your bra off before climbing on top of him, his dick throbbing against you. As Loki wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, he flips you again, running his hands along your curves while a happy moan escapes you. Slowly, he slides the tip of him between your lips and you gasp at how thick he is, but you’re still wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You hold there for a moment, gazing in each other's eyes and in one swift movement, he buries himself deep inside of you, a growl slipping through his lips.

“F-fuck darling, you feel so good.” He moans as he starts to thrust in you, shattering your entire world. You can’t formulate words, all you know and all you’ve ever known is that nobody has taken care of you like Loki is doing right now. You want this moment to last forever, him inside of you, your bodies interlaced, lips pressed against each other’s, your choked out breaths matching the beating of your hearts to the rhythm of your desire for one another. Everything you’ve ever known ceases to exist, but the two of you, in that moment, as Loki makes love to you passionately. He’s rolling his hips, hitting a spot in you you didn’t know could get you so close to the edge of insanity so fast.

“Loki, fuck! I-I’m gonna…” you start.

“Wait for me,” he moans out after you, pumping his hips harder into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other lost in your hair. “Fuck”. And you do, until his last powerful thrust and you cry out as you feel him explode inside of you, your orgasm ripping your body to shreds from the sheer intensity of it.

You stay lying there for a while, him still inside of you, your arms wrapped around him, as his head rests against yours. Gently, he rolls off to the side, pulling you into his and kissing you deeply. You sigh in pure bliss as he kisses you, resting your hand up his sweaty torso, following the movement of his breaths.

“I think we might’ve overcooked, possibly even burnt, the food,” he whispers in your hair, and you feel him smile.

“Worth it to me, was it not to you?” You tease, kissing him again.

“I’m hurt you would even question it, my beautiful girl,” his reply sending butterflies through your stomach as he kisses you back with infinite softness.

You are lost in the moment, wishing you could forever just kiss this God’s lips.

Taglist : @kingtwhiddleston

[thiswasinevitableid]

Winter prompt fill 67 for sternclay? Doesn’t have to be a wedding I just love the 2nd half of this prompt. nsfw would be great

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW

67. you were supposed to have a beautiful winter wedding but you were ditched during the vows and my idiot sibling/best friend just cracked a joke about how maybe I’d finally tell you how I feel about you and you h e a r d

“She’s not coming.” Joseph whispers over his shoulder. 

“Joe, for all we know she got hung up in a dress emergency or something?” Lily, the best woman and Joseph’s sister, squeezes his shoulder.

When the groom turns his blue eyes on Barclay, the groomsman does his best impression of someone who thinks things will be fine.

“It’s only been five minutes.”

“Her entire wedding party is here without her. And they look as confused as we do.”

Barclay spots a member of the event staff slip in a side door and hand a piece of paper to Indrid, their friend who’s acting as an usher. 

“I, ah, have some bad news.” The pale-haired man joins them at the front of the church, “it seems the bride has had a serious change of mind and will not be joining us.”

Joseph grabs the paper, reading it over as the bridal party crowds around him. The upshot of all the commotion, and the arguing that follows the commotion, is that the bride has indeed called off the wedding and is en route to an airport. 

As the family confirms she’s alright, Joseph picks up the microphone.

“Obviously this is a, um, unexpected turn of events. It’s safe to say no one is getting married today, but everything is still in order for the reception and we’re all dressed up so, um, if people want to stay and take advantage of that, you’re welcome to. You’re also welcome to leave if you want.”

Several groups break off towards the reception hall, and Barclay pulls Joseph aside. 

“Joe,  are you sure? I mean, yeah, we’re all here, but I don’t think anyone is gonna hold it against you if you want to send everyone home.”

“It’s important to be flexible.” Joseph replies blithely. Barclay knows his best friend hates when plans change and is unlikely to suddenly lose that piece of his personality at the same moment he lost his fiancee. 

“Besides, I’d hate for that menu you helped us pick out to go to waste.” There it is, the Joseph Stern Professional smile ™, a sign that Barclay’s hunch is right.

“Screw the menu, man, I’m worried about you.” Barclay sets a hand on either of his shoulders. Joseph’s gaze snaps all the way onto him, and he knows he is losing this argument. 

“It’s still my wedding, Barclay. That means I get to run it in whatever way I think best.”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” He steps back, brushes lint from his arm, “you go on ahead. I join you in a sec.”

Joseph nods, turning to stride though the room in his dark suit, while Barclay watches the love of his life walk away.

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

“Uh, hi, I’m Barclay. You must be Joseph?” Barclay stands in the door of the dorm room, his backpack in his arms. 

“Yes. Um, nice to meet you.” The other guy stands, black hair and well-fitting X-Files shirt making him look like Agent Mulder on his day off.

“I didn’t choose a side yet, it seemed fair to wait until we were both here. I’m partial to the left but that’s more habit than anything else.”

“I’m cool with that. I, uh, I don’t have a ton of stuff to unpack so, uh if you need help let me know.”

“Thank you.” Joseph smiles, taking his face from cute to heart-stoppingly handsome, and Barclay decides he hit the roommate jackpot.

Barclay didn’t fall for Joe so much as cliffdive, throwing himself after the feeling he got whenever Joe laughed at a joke or told him a secret or talked for fifteen minutes about the methodology flaws in Ghost Hunters. Yes, Joe was hotter than convection oven and Barclay wanted to fuck him on the floor of every space they ever lived in, but more than that Barclay was so happy with him, and his friend felt the same way. 

The problem was, Barclay had a shy streak and was far from the only person to see Joe as a catch. And so they dated other people, sometimes happily and sometimes not, but never each other. By the time Joe met Iris, Barclay’s unrequited love had been thrumming in him so long it was no more than background noise. So when Joe ran proposal ideas by him, announced the weddings, asked Barclay to stand up with him, Barclay felt genuine happiness for him and the woman he loved. There’s no rule that says one cannot feel joy and knife-in-the-gut sorrow at the same time.

He’s only gotten better with age he thinks as Joe works the room, fielding condolences with ease. Barclay helped him choose the suit, black with blue lines in the stitching, because it flattered  but did not flaunt the well-maintained figure beneath. The last time Barclay saw him in just his underwear was when they lived together after college, and he fumbled his phone when he saw him at the beach last summer. He can picture it so clearly, what that body looks like under those clothes, and it makes him want to scream

“This whole day has been full of surprises.” Indrid sits down next to him, glass of soda in hand. 

“Kinda figured you and Duck would head home.”

“Most of  our friends are here, and the food looks good. Not to mention we’re both worried about-” Indrid nods towards Joseph.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I admire his holding it together but, like, what if Duck had left you at the altar?”

“I’d have turned into a hideous red-eyed monster and flapped screeching into the night.”

“......”

“That was a joke.” Indrid grins. 

“Right. Man, hard to tell with you sometimes.”

“While this is an upsetting situation, there is a bright side; maybe now you will finally tell Joseph how you feel.”

A crash makes them both turn in their seats; Joseph is wiping his dropped (plastic) cup up with a nearby napkin, well within earshot. 

“Indrid I swear if he heard-”

“Oh, I am certain he did.”

“Dude” Barclay hisses as Joseph steals an unreadable glance at him. 

“For goodness sake, you two are a good pair. A pair you’ve been dreaming about for years. Tell him.” With that the other man stands, leaving Barclay alone with his thoughts. His thoughts are no help, so he joins Indrid, Duck, Aubrey, and Dani for some cake.

As the venue finally empties, he realizes he hasn’t seen Joe in an hour and panics until he finds him standing (swaying, really) in the staging room. 

“You, hic, know, hic, this explains, hic, why she didn’t want to move until hic, after the wedding.”

“Seems like it’s for the best, going home to a place where all her stuff is would fucking suck.” Barclay puts an arm around him only for the shorter man to slump most of his weight into his chest.

“The hotel’s paid for, and I have a week hic of vacation and a packed car.”

“You’re not driving anywhere. I can and will lock you in a closet if you try.”

“Or you could, hic, come with me.”

“On your honeymoon?” Thank god Joe is too drunk to notice his voice creeping up.

“On my it’s this or be miserable t home trip. Please, Barclay? We can hic, swing by your place to get your stuff.”

Barclay says yes. Purely to help a friend in need and not because of how said friend feels pressed up against him.

They’re an hour out of the city when Joseph fumbles with his phone, “Change of plans, were going here instead of the hotel?”

“I thought the whole point was the hotel was paid for?”

“It is, by her family, so fuck it. I’ve always wanted to go here and it’s the kind of place she’d never let us stay.”

They take the next exit and find the highway North rather than East. By the time they reach the massive pink building with an airplane in the field out front, snow is falling and Joe is half-asleep, mumbling “okay” when Barclay says he’ll go get them a room. The clerk welcomes him, shows him a list of available rooms, and he notices a high number of them have heart-shaped bed, “tubs for two,” and the word “fantasy” in the name. 

Just as he’s wondering what the fuck Joe’s gotten them into, he spots the perfect room at the bottom of the list. 

“Got a surprise for you.” He helps Joe from the car and unlocks the door. His friend takes in the silver and green decor, the posters, and the UFO-shaped bed. 

“This is the exact one I was hoping for.”

“I know, you giant nerd.”

“Be nice, big guy, or you’re sleeping on the couch.” Joe stumbles to the bed and starts stripping, at which point Barclay zips back outside to get their bags. By the time he’s back, Joe is under the covers and out cold. The king bed does look comfy…

Barclay sleeps on the couch. 

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

Joe remains dead to the world until almost noon the next day, so Barclay works on his cookbook edits and sends yet another thank-you email to Mama for letting him take his vacation with such little notice. He grabs breakfast, including a sandwich for when Joe wakes up and some aspirin to go with his coffee. 

“I hate myself.”

“Good morning to you too.”

Joe rolls over, dragging the pillow atop his head, “I didn’t mean to get so drunk, it’s just the only way I could get through all those conversations yesterday was to take a drink every time I felt like crumbling.”

Barclay sits on the bed, petting his head, “It’s okay, man, getting me to drive you to a weird sex hotel is not the worst thing you’ve done drunk.”

“I threw up in a mixer one time.”

“And I’ll never forgive you for it.” He laughs when Joe whacks him with a pillow. In the silence that follows, he remembers Indrid’s comment, and wonders if Joe does too. 

“...Is this really a sex hotel? I just thought it was kitsch aimed at couples”

“Go look at the tub.”

Joe groans, stepping out of bed in just his--god help him--silk boxer briefs. They must have been under the suit. 

“Are these...they are, there are handcuffs hanging by the tub. Well, weird as that is, I’m taking a bath.”

The day goes in an oddly non-awkward direction after that. They’ve lived together often enough that getting dressed and clean in close quarters is nothing new. Joe votes for hiding from the world  bit longer, so they settle in on the very squishy bed and watch a silver plated T.V, Joe laughing whenever Barclay yells at cooking shows they way other people yell at football games. 

He still sleeps on the couch that night. 

The next day Joe is up bright and early, suggesting they drive to a nearby tourist trap, using his phone to pick out a breakfast place that serves Barclays favorite local coffee blend. They follow that same process the next two days; find some strange roadside attraction or nearby bookstore, eat, and return back to the motel to lay side by side on the bed and to read or watch T.V.

It’s as they’re wandering around a strange, knock-off Carhenge that Joe sighs, “I sort of saw it coming, you know? Iris leaving. I proposed because I cared about her, but she was the one who brought it up, and every time we were visiting her family or she got off the phone with them, she’d bring it up more forcefully. I think she was under more pressure to settle down than I grasped. If our places were switched, I might have run too. Lord knows I wouldn’t want to marry me.”

Barclay crunches to a stop in the snow “Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I’m exactly the kind of guy you’d want to bring home to your family but not spend your life with. My job has weird hours and travel, my non-work clothes have cryptids on them, I can be too particular, and I’m not that exciting for someone whose job is special agent-”

“No, fuck that, you’re a catch.”

“You’re just used to me, big guy. Your objectivity is in question.”

“Yeah, well, you’re even more used to you, so I’m really the more objective one here.” 

“Maybe you’re right.” Joe stares at his footprints, then elbows the cook, “come on, lets go get lunch.”

Barclay is still full and happy, having warmed up via a soak in the tub (where he thought of four different ways to use the cuffs and then had to calm down his cock enough to get out), when he comes into the main room and finds Joe staring at his phone. 

“Oh shit, did she get in touch?”

“Yes. Iris, um, is on a cruise ship. As a yoga instructor. She says it’s something she’s dreamed of for years, that she’s sorry for hurting me, but that marrying me would have been a step in a life she did not want to lead. So. That’s that.” He puts the phone face down, cards his fingers through his hair, “Lord almighty I wish she’d just said no when I asked.”

“Me too.” Barclay imagines a different past, where Joe asked him instead, where he said yes because it’s what he’s been dreaming of since he was twenty-two. Where Joe is sitting in front of him, not sad-eyed and tired, but happy as can be. 

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

This hangover is somehow worse than the one the morning after his non-wedding. Then again, he drank more in a shorter period, hoping to drown out the memory of the words on the screen. 

Or the words he overheard at the reception.

“Tell him how you really feel”

He’s had his suspicions about Barclay from time to time, most frequently when they were younger and he felt those deep brown eyes on his ass every time he turned around. But Barclay never took a chance; there were times after break-ups when Joe is certain anyone who was interested would have taken advantage of him being vulnerable and available, but instead Barclay cheered him up, the same way Joe did when Barclay’s relationships ended. Stern concluded neither of them wanted more. 

He would have taken more in an instant. His love for Barclay walked the line between romantic and platonic, and he would have crossed it the moment Barclay asked him to.

Now, he’s bathing with his eyes shut because any light is murder on his skull, his best friend waking up on the couch where he’s insisted on staying because clearly Joe’s lost his appeal. Who’d want to sleep with someone who got roaring drunk and needed babysitting?

He pops aspirin, drinks water, and lays down with his sleep mask over his eyes. Barclay moves around the room, talking softly in that gentle baritone that, not for the first time, makes Stern wonder what he sounds like when he cums. 

“You want me to run and grab breakfast?”

“No, I can get it for both of us. Lord knows you’ve done enough for me this week.”

“You gonna go downstairs blindfolded?”

“For you, I’ll risk a headache OW, owow.” His back locks up just as he tries to sit upright.

The bed sags, “Holy shit man, you’ve got a huge knot right here.”

“My back always does that when I’m stressed, it’ll be fine.”

“Nuhuh, lay down and let me see if I can get it out.” Barclay nudges him onto his stomach and he flops willingly, mask still on. 

“You don’t need to Ohhhhhhhhhnnn, I forget about those bakers hands.”

“Gonna knead you like dough, babe.”

Stern blushes at the name; he was always a little jealous when his friend called his boyfriends that. 

When thumbs pass below his shoulder-blades he moans, arches at the second of pain, “That’s it, that’s the epicenter.”

He can’t stop sighing as Barclay runs his hands over him, can’t stop wiggling his hips at every burst of relief. He pushes his ass up without meaning too, and a bitten-back whine reaches him. 

Fuck it. Even if he’s about to make a huge mistake, he wont have to look Barclay in the eyes.

“What did Indrid mean? At the reception.”

“Uh.” Barclay’s hands still, “uh. That I was worried about you.”

“Try again.” He grinds his ass back deliberately. 

“Joe, please, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread here. You’re underneath me shirtless and I am not gonna do this a dumb way.”

“Do what?”

“Tell you that, that I, no nope, I’m gonna do this back home, at the Lodge or something, make you dinner first and be all romantic so that you don’t think I’m talking with my dick when I say I love you.”

Barclay’s whole body tenses. Joe flips onto his back, regrets the sudden movement, and lifts his sleep mask. He takes one of his frozen hands from the air.

“I love you too.”

“Really?” Barclay sounds like a teenager whose crush just said yes to prom.

“Really. And I don’t think it’s just your dick talking. Although if you wanted to bring it into the equation I wouldn’t mind.” He sends a pointed stare at the half-hard shape under worn denim.

Barclay’s breathing is picking up, his posture trapped between movements. 

“Do you, um, do you want to kiss?”

His friend drops down in reply, smashing their lips together and parting his own imploringly until Stern slips his tongue between them. His big hands cup Stern’s face and his hips grind like he thinks his parents will be home any minute. 

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, Joe, ohgod, babe, please, please let me be good to you” the kisses on his face and neck are messy and the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt. 

“Barclay, you’ve always been good to me.”

“I meant this” he drags their dicks together, “kind of good.”

“Ohlord, yes okay, good point. Get your clothes off and bring me the purple bag that’s in my suitcase.”

Barclay grabs the bag, upends it and sends several sex toys, his strap-on underwear, and lots of condoms onto the bed, undresses as Stern sets one of the toys into the harness. 

“I need to put this back on.” He lowers the mask and hears a soft whine.

“I like seeing your eyes.”

“You’ll see them plenty, big guy, I promise. Now, open yourself up, please.”

“Oh hell yes.” A rip of foil, a pop of lube, and then Barclay straddles him, grunting delightfully. 

“Tell me when you get to three, that should be enough for this toy.”

Pre-cum drips just above the waistband of the underwear, and he gets a thrill remembering the few times he’d caught an accidental glimpse of Barclay’s dick. It’s big, that much he knows, and he’s going to have a lot of fun with it once he’s done reducing the man above him to tears. 

“T-three, babe.”

“Get my dick wet and then get to it.”

When he gets the gasp that tells him the toy is in, he smile and reaches to the underside of the base, “Remember that new dick I was excited about?”

“The vibrating one? OHFUCK, fuckyeahbabe” Barclay jerks and moans, his movements erratic even as he sinks all the way down. Stern echoes him, the pressure of the other man’s body makes the vibrations hit all the right spots. 

“Here’s how this is going to work, big guy; I’m going to get off while I fuck you, and if you can hold off on coming until I’m done, I’ll let you fuck me.”

“God yeah, Joe, fuck me, please.” 

He thrusts up and there’s a thud of Barclay’s hands hitting the headboard. The movement is rough on his stomach but he doesn’t care, grabs hold of thick thighs and fucks him, the other man working his hips in an attempt at rhythm.

The mask catches on a pillow, letting him see Barclay from the neck down. Lord, he looks good like this, big (Stern’s always loved how big he is), letting out the most appealing grunts and growls, dark hair covering most of his softly muscled body…

Wait a minute. 

He claps a hand over his mouth, laughing. 

“Whats, aAAhnnn, what’s so funny babe?”

“Remember when you found that Sasquatch dildo and bigfoot romance novel in my stuff?”

“Hard to forget.”

“I just discovered the source of the fantasy.”

“Are, are you saying I look like bigfoot when I fuck?” Barclay is shaking with laughter. 

“Kind of?”

“I’m putting that on a sign in my den.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late AHHhhnnnfuck, fuck, baby, pleasepleaseplease say you’re close.”

“Why? In a hurry to fuck me?”

“After ten fucking years? Yes.”

He focuses on rubbing off on the toy, holding Barclay in place to keep it at the right angle, orgasm building sudden and swift when he works his hips just right and Barclay starts whimpering.

“Shit” he bites out as it ripples through him, aftershocks jerking his hips and making them both groan. 

Barclay climbs off and he wiggles the underwear off and kicks them off the bed. 

“Okay, big guy, now you can fuck meSHIT, lordalmighty you  feel good.”

“Fucking knew it would, knew you were fucking made for me Joe, fuck you’re incredible.” The hand that’s not balancing him on the mattress is shoving Sterns left out and up so he can drive deeper, shaking the walls on each thrust. Stern wonders if there’s a way recreate ten years of pent up desire so that Barclay will fuck him with this same furious affection every night of his life.

He’s limp post-orgasm, happy to let Barclay manhandle him to his hearts content. When the other man sits up, dragging his hips into his lap, he moans louder than he had in years. 

“That’s it babe, lemme hear how good it is, fuck, no one’s ever looked this good taking my dick, c’mon, take it all the way, take me all the way while I cum in you.”

“Ohlord.” his toes curl weakly as bucks into him faster and faster.

“Fucking years, years I’ve wanted cum in whatever hole you’d give me, now I’m gonna and you’re gonna feel it for weeks, fuck, babe, that’s it, ohhhnn Joe, Joe” there’s a final growl as Barclay holds his legs open, the last jolts of his orgasm making his fingers dig into his skin. 

As he’s coming down and pulling out, Stern slips off the mask, blinking at the sight before him. Barclay, flushed and slick with sweat, staring at him like he’s a prize he’d never thought he’d see.

“Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” He winces at how childish it sounds. A week ago he had a fiancee, for gods sake. 

“Yeah, hell yes, wait, Joe, you just got out of an engagement. You, you sure you don’t want some time alone or to, like, explore other options?”

Stern crawls over to him, beard scratching his palm when he turns his cheek, “Barclay, I’ve always been one step away from falling in love with you, and it turns out this was the step. I trust you, I get along better with you than anyone else, and apparently we work well in bed. If, um, if you don’t want this, if it’s too late, I understand. But if you want to be together, I want that too.”

Barclay blinks. Then he blinks again. And then he’s crying and Stern pulls him into the hug.

“Oh lord, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Joe, don’t apologize. I’m so fucking happy, I’ve wanted to hear this for so long it’s just” a shaky breath, “just didn’t expect it to hit so hard. I love you, Joseph, and nothing would make me happier than being your boyfriend.”

They stay like that for awhile, talking in confessions and professions of feelings. Then Joe kisses him, and pulls him towards the bathroom to clean up (and maybe use those cuffs) before heading out to lunch.

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

Indrid opens the message on his phone, smiles, and texts four words in reply. 

I told you so

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Wicked Game

Another round of the 5sos fic writing collab brought to you by @maluminspace​ and @h0tsos​. There are so many amazing writers involved and I highly recommend checking out the event master list linked below. Thank you to the Sagittarius sorceress  @sexgodashton​ for being very caring, patient, and kind while helping me tame this monster.  Massive shout out to @ghostofmashton​ for the photo edits, especially Ashton’s eye. that’s my favorite. You’re a rock star. Texas girls forever, love you to bits!

Event Master List

Prompt: Chef AU with Cashton

Dialogue Prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met” First person to spot it in the fic and send me a screenshot gets a personalized blurb request.

Word Count: 20K+ Team Long Winded Bitch strikes again, this will be posted in multiple parts over the next couple of days. This first part is about 5K

Rating: 18+ Slash fic Strong language, alcohol and drug use, and a misogynistic and racist comment. Sexual scenes including masturbation, toys, voyeurism, oral, and anal sex.

Summary: Ashton is ready to move on with his life after his painful divorce from Luke and the demise of the restaurant they’d built together. With the help of his protegee and sous chef Hima Singh, Ashton is ready to take on opening weekend of his new restaurant Anne-Marie’s. Calum is a reporter filling in on an assignment and is surprised when his past comes back to haunt him. Hima arranges an interview that takes an unexpected turn between the two men.

Part 1

"Great job, guys, we couldn't have had a better opening weekend. Thank you so much for making it happen," Ashton told the two staff members in the kitchen who'd closed as he unlocked the back door.

"No problem boss, glad to be here. We made money this weekend. See ya tomorrow," DeSean told him as he left.

Ashton locked the door behind them and walked out into the empty dining room, his steel-toed boots echoing heavily on the distressed blonde faux hardwood floors. He stopped to adjust a few tables, double-checking sightlines and looking over the layout of the tables. The upside-down chair legs cast long shadows in the soft pink neon glow. 

He looked up at the sign above the bar that read "Anne-Marie's." He smiled, not caring if anyone thought it was cheesy to name his restaurant after his mother.  His mom had always been his lucky star, and he couldn't have gotten through the last couple of years without her. 

"You look so serious,' a voice behind him startled him out of his thoughts.

"What the fuck Hima," Ashton yelped, clutching his chest dramatically. "I thought you were still in the kitchen." 

"The guys didn't leave me anything to do so I decided to change and have a drink with you before my brother gets here," she tossed her bag and chef's coat onto a stool grinning at Ashton. She hopped up to sit on the bar before swinging her legs around as she pushed off. Landing without a wobble she reached under the bar and grabbed a bottle of black label Bushmill's Irish Whiskey and two short glasses. 

"Straight for the good stuff, I like the way you think," Ashton smirked, taking a seat at the bar. 

"To simply mark the occasion, of course" she poured them each a shot before adding a splash of water.  She raised her glass, "Cheers to you, Boss, and to Anne-Marie's." 

They clinked glasses. "Couldn't have done it without you," he replied before taking a sip.

"Awwwwww thanks Ashtton, " she grinned at him. "Damn that's good, the whiskey makes me forgive the Irish for how dreadful Guinness is. Did you see Kevin Mackie snuck in last night? I expect a write up in the Metro on Tuesday and I know you saw Patricia Bennett," she rolled her eyes at the name.

"She makes herself hard to miss," he snorted. "I missed Mackie though. Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Because we were busy and I didn't have time for you to get all giggly and nervous. He got the crab puffs and the Mac and Brie and inhaled them. You were right about the nutmeg; I thought he was going to lick the plate."  She opened two bottles of beer before hopping back over the bar and taking a seat next to Ashton. 

"How did this weekend compare to the opening of ‘Lune Rouge’? Was it as good as the first time?" Hima finished her whiskey before shaking a pack of Camel Crush cigarettes out of her bag. 

"If you get ashes on the bar Paloma will flip her shit," Ashton warned. 

"I'm not afraid of her," Hima snipped, but she made sure to be careful. No sense in antagonizing their temperamental main bartender. 

"This opening was definitely smoother than the first one. We didn't know what the hell we were doing. The first night we ran out of duck fat and gorgonzola before the dinner rush was over. My sous chef's sister had to run to Whole Foods for emergency supplies. We got lucky the press ignored us for a couple weeks until we got a little buzz going. This time I knew what to expect but there was also more pressure," he paused, taking a pull on the bottle of beer. "This time I  expected to succeed right out of the gate." 

"You succeeded there," Hima stubbed her cigarette out in her empty glass. "I really need to quit." 

"You could get a puff bar and start vaping," he teased.

"I'm not a fucking junior varsity cheerleader. I can take my cancer like a big girl." She checked her phone. "Ugh it's almost nine, and it's gonna take me at least thirty minutes to get home. You're closing tomorrow with me right?" 

"Yeah, I'll be in around 11 all this week. Rafi is handling brunch with Gloria but I want to be here," Ashton double-checked his phone. "Tuesday I have that interview with Men's Life and they just emailed me." 

Hima saw his nose scrunch up as he read.  "What's wrong?" 

"I thought they were sending Taj, but instead of rescheduling the interview, they're sending Calum Hood," Ashton sneered. 

"Chill dude, it's not that bad," Hima was confused by the venom in his voice. "Yeah he's a bit of a goof, but he's hot and not a pretentious dickhead. They could've sent Felipe." 

"True, true," he grumbled as he saw a black Honda pull up outside. "Kabir is here." 

"Shit, ok see you tomorrow, Boss," she grabbed her stuff, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and ran out the door, locking it behind her. 

Ashton walked through once again. He made sure the lights were off in the employee lounge. Since many of his staff members used public transport or worked two jobs, Rafi had convinced Ashton to provide his staff with a decent place to take a break and get ready before or after work.  He built a small shower stall, lockers, and provided clean towels, and as his new kitchen manager, Rafi took responsibility for maintaining the space. Ashton took a last look at the bar, double-checking for any stray ashes Hima might have missed before setting the alarm, locking up, and heading home. 

Calum opened the email from his editor and swore loud enough to wake the scruffy brown terrier mix snoozing at his feet.

Hey Cal,

Sorry it's such short notice but Taj's mom had an emergency and I need you to cover for him. He's interviewing Ashton Irwin, remember him? He had the Lune Rouge a few years ago. Well, he's got a new place, diverse staff and we're doing a feature. Maybe even the cover if he's really pretty. Tuesday at 2 pm I'll send you the address and details after I talk to Taj. Oh, and my friend Nick is coming into town and I told him you'd show him around. It's been a while since you had a date but you'll like him. He's kinda short, but he's got big muscles, huge dick, perfect credit. You could do a lot worse.

Call me tomorrow

Sham

This isn't good, this isn't good. Calum's mind was racing. He rubbed his temples trying to think. Taj was notoriously reliable and responsible, so if he was taking off on short notice, it must be serious. It was just his bad luck it was Ashton Irwin. 

He usually covered travel and sports for Men's Life while Taj handled food and fashion. Calum didn't mind taking back food and dining for the time being. He'd started in that industry, working as a line cook while he went to school for journalism. He'd quit both when a flirty, older professor recommended him for an internship at California Culture and he managed to land a real job. Professor Davis had been highly disappointed to lose him as a student and catch him making out with her son who went to the same college. He'd found a tiny shitty apartment, spent his life on the road for work, and sent every penny he didn't need to live on to his family. He didn't even date for the longest time until he met a handsome blonde with sharp features and a sharper tongue.

He couldn't remember if it was four years ago or five, but he clearly recalled his review of Lune Rouge had not been nice. Calum was in a toxic relationship with the restaurant's sous chef at the time. He'd let his personal life spill over into his work for the first and only time. It wasn't something Calum was proud of and while he felt he owed Ashton an apology, the right time and place hadn't presented itself yet. He'd run into Ashton twice since then. The first time he was with his husband, and Calum wasn't about to humble himself in front of Luke. The second encounter came not long after their marriage broke up. Calum was dating a photographer at the time, when Ashton came to the photographer’s art show. They were briefly introduced but Ashton's chilly demeanor discouraged any further conversation, so Calum avoided him the rest of the evening. He remembered being unable to stop staring at the handsome chef with the sad eyes. He'd always hoped they'd bump into each other under better circumstances. I guess an interview will have to do.

********

Ashton sat out on his condo balcony overlooking Echo Park, taking in the night air and enjoying a second bottle of IPA. Hima was right, the opening had been a smash. Anne-Marie's had the best staff he'd ever had the pleasure of working with, and aside from a small mix up between gruyere and Havarti cheese, the opening had been smooth. The alcohol hummed in his veins as he allowed his mind to wander back five years. 

Lune Rouge's opening had been a chaotic mess of brilliance, balls, and blind luck. He was a year out of culinary school, newly married, and ecstatically in love with his husband. Luke was a trust fund baby; his dad ran a major studio. He put up the funding for their restaurant which procured a prime spot in trendy West Hollywood. Ashton had the idea of taking traditional French cuisine and turning it into "pub grub." Luke created a kitschy tacky cool interior with the ambiance of fairy light curtains, vintage 90's movie posters, an eye-popping pink and aqua come scheme.  Featuring a bartender who doubled as a DJ, the restaurant became an immediate hot spot.  

 The culinary press treated them like rock stars and it went to their head.  Ashton was portrayed as the mysterious boy genius, boisterous and foul-mouthed, he ran the back of the house, oversaw the business and created the menu. Luke, who's blonde-haired blue-eyed good looks were regularly described as "angelic", was the frontman, often schmoozing in the dining room, taking song requests, or slinging drinks behind the bar. They worked so well together until they didn't. 

Ashton shook his head, not allowing himself to linger on negative thoughts, not when he'd fought to regain balance. He'd spent the last year freeing himself from the wreckage of his partnership with Luke. Still, tonight after the opening, alone and overlooking the city lights, his mind kept going back to the exhilaration of that first opening night. After they stayed late with the crew for a drink to celebrate, Luke's hand wandered up Ashton's thigh causing him to almost choke on his tequila. Soon Luke started whining about all the paperwork he had to do before they could go home. The crew quickly bagged it out of there, not wanting to get roped into more work. 

Ashton swallowed at the memory before glancing around at the other balconies. It was late enough most of his neighbors should be asleep. Already hard, he reached down and squeezed his bulge through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. 

After letting everyone else out of Lune Rouge that first night he'd been puzzled to find Luke no longer at the bar. He heard noises coming from the office. When he opened the door, he found his husband, shirtless, and waiting for him. 

Ashton slid his hand into his pants swiping his thumb across the leaking tip. He heard a sliding glass door open and froze in place until he realized it was his neighbor below him chatting on the phone. He stroked himself and let his mind wander back to Luke. It had been too long since Ashton got laid, and Luke was still the best sex he'd ever had. He shuddered and bit his lip thinking about the way Luke grinned at him as he opened the office door. Before Ashton could say a word, Luke was sinking to his knees. A bit awkward given his long legs, but it didn't take long before he was letting Ashton fuck his throat. The thought of those blue eyes looking up at him as Ash's hands tangled in those blonde curls caused a moan to slip out, and his neighbor stopped talking at the sound. 

"I think somebody is having sex," he heard her whisper. He almost laughed. 

His dick was twitching flat against his stomach as he ducked back inside his bedroom, kicked off his pants, and grabbed a small tube of lube. Ashton shut off the light and stepped back outside. 

The breeze cooled his fevered skin as he stood there looking out at the city and stroking his dick. The idea that he could possibly be seen turned him on almost as much as his trip down memory lane.  He swallowed another moan thinking about how Luke's lips felt against his, their tongues tangled until he pulled back looking at Ashton with mischief and love before giving him a wink and turning around. 

Ashton's breath caught in his throat as he worked his cock thinking about it. The red and white striped pants his husband pranced around in that night had been blissful torment working him up until the moment he slid those pants down and bent over the desk.

"Come take what's yours, my love, I've been wanting you all night," he cooed, wiggling his hips. 

Luke was a whiny boy when he was getting pounded, and the memory sent Ashton closer to the edge. He felt his knees tremble as he increased his speed, the city lights becoming starbursts in his vision as he edged himself closer. At the moment of release, he swore he could feel Luke pushing back against him taking him in as deep as he could go. 

When Ashton opened his eyes, he found himself sweaty and streaked with his own seed. He was amazed he'd managed to stay quiet, but his neighbor was chatting away obliviously. He went back inside, cracked another beer, and took it with him into the shower, trying to focus on his day tomorrow.

 It was after midnight by the time he went to bed. His body was exhausted but the adrenaline from the opening weekend hadn't quite worn off. He found himself still restless and playing on his phone. After scrolling through Instagram, he found himself looking at the page belonging to the Galway Grill-- Ashton cringed at the name-- an Irish pub and microbrewery very recently opened by Luke and his boyfriend Finn. 

Ashton simmered with resentment perusing the menu; they'd recycled at least half of the Lune Rouge recipes, his creations. He'd heard they'd rushed their opening to launch the week before Anne-Marie's, and even with Daddy's deep pockets the decor looked slapped together, all flash no class. He came to a picture of the happy couple and couldn't help but notice how thin and tired Luke looked despite his huge smile. He felt a twinge of concern for his ex before pushing his phone away in disgust. Rolling out of bed, he headed to the bathroom and fished an orange prescription bottle out of the cabinet. He broke a valium in half and swallowed the smaller piece with a gulp of water straight from the faucet. He scrolled through different sounds on his phone before settling on crashing waves. He spent the next ten minutes stretching and practicing deep breathing to push out any lingering negativity and troubling thoughts. It was too late to drag up the past and there was nothing to be gained. Ashton crawled back under the duvet and sank into a deep sleep dreaming of blue eyes.

*********

Hima rolled into work a little after one, pleased to see a decent lunch crowd and multiple delivery orders going out. She ordered a chicken mojito wrap for her lunch and headed back to the office to find Ashton. She found him in his chair with his laptop open on his desk, a notebook in his lap while scrolling through his phone. 

"So what's the Monday morning report, Boss?" She asked, taking a seat across from him. 

Ashton was beaming as he spun the laptop around to show her. "We made 30% over our projected sales. We came in right at payroll, actually a little under if you can believe that." 

"I've checked the reservation book," she responded, flashing her phone. "We're booked solid for dinner Friday and Saturday and will call is 3 pm-7 pm. We're probably going to have to do that all week." 

"Whatever you need. This weekend is going to be bonkers. If you have any suggestions, I'd like to do something for the staff. That reminds me, I've got to talk to Maisie." He scribbled down a quick note.

"She's already on it," Hima laughed. "The servers who struggled are coming in for extra training with her and Dakota. I have no doubt she'll straighten them up or ship them out."  

Ashton nodded as Daniel knocked on the office door to bring their lunch. 

"How's it going out there? Let us know if you need anything," Ashton told him.

"We've got this, Boss, enjoy your lunch," Daniel closed the door behind him.

"He's Rafi's brother?" Hima asked before taking a big bite. 

"Cousin, Gloria is his sister," Ashton replied tucking into his roasted corn and quinoa salad with queso fresco. 

"Are you ready for this interview tomorrow? You look tired," Hima looked concerned. 

"I am tired," he shrugged. "I just wanna get this over with. I'm thrilled we're doing so well, but that's not what the press wants to talk about." 

"Don't think about it like that. Anne-Marie's will stand on her own. You've just gotta get through this week. I know it's a lot," her words were half-muffled by a napkin.

"Tomorrow is the worst of it. Mackie called and is available Tuesday at one or Thursday for dinner around four. Since he's already been here for dinner, I thought I'd let Rafi wow him this time," he told her.

"Good idea, try to keep it short because if he drinks he gets super chatty. He gave a lecture at school and came to the bar afterward; he would not shut up," she warned.

"Chatty bastard, got it," he replied and they both laughed. 

Anne-Marie's was his restaurant, but he couldn't have done it without Hima.  She was fresh out of culinary school working as a line cook at the Hilton when he'd discovered her a little over a year ago. Ashton only lasted four months before chafing under the corporate yoke and deciding to strike out on his own. She'd been the first person he'd hired for the restaurant, guaranteeing her first year's salary out of his own pocket. Rafi and DeSean were excellent managers for the kitchen, but Hima was a coach: she understood the business as a whole. He'd let her handle most of the press and promotion, and she'd scored two big interviews.

Gourmet Table had interviewed him last Thursday The piece wouldn't be that in-depth, but they'd spent three hours photographing food. He expected the Men's Life article to focus more on him and his personal life. Calum Hood was known for his sharp pen and take-no-prisoners style.  He'd given Lune Rouge two stars and a biting review during a brief stint at California Culture before he'd become known. It was five years ago, but Ashton still had the clipping somewhere. Calum had branded Lune's food as tasty and imaginative but thought the presentation was lacking in creativity. He'd ripped into the decor, calling it "somewhere between art house and frat house," and labeled Luke and Ashton "spoiled pretty boys pretending to be chefs." Luke had brushed it off with a laugh, but it still bothered Ashton. 

Unlike the Hemmings’, Ashton’s family didn't have money to throw around. He'd started at sixteen, washing dishes and peeling vegetables for Chef François at Bordeaux on Hollywood. He'd taken culinary classes after high school while working full time. Sadly, Chef François had a heart attack and retired around the time he met Luke. 

"You're not listening again," Hima complained, licking her fingers. "Rafi killed it with this wrap. The chicken is amazing, but the cucumber-mint salad and the tamarind chili mayo are next fucking level." 

"You're right, I'm not. Sorry about that," he pushed his plate aside.

"Ok, what's got you so rattled? You've handled the press like a champ up until now. Is it Mackie or Hood? Who needs to catch these hands?" Hima stood and assumed a fighter's stance, bouncing on her toes. 

"Easy there killer, I can defend my own honor. Mackie is an irritating little mosquito. He just wants gossip, but he's got enough readers so we all have to kiss his ass. Hood gave me one of the few bad reviews we got at Lune, and it stuck. He called us frat boys and said we were trying too hard," Ashton rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by saying it out loud. 

Hima raised her eyebrows and smirked, "I love it when you're petty. You're always so perfect and Zen, it's annoying." 

"My therapist would disagree. Oh shit, that reminds me," he straightened up in his chair and grabbed his phone. "I've got an appointment at 2:30. I'll be back before 4," he dropped his eyes to the floor. 

"Ashton," her voice was soft but commanding, and he looked up. "I don't know what's going on, and if you don't want to tell me that's fine. I want you to take care of yourself, whatever that takes. Ok?" He nodded and she smiled, "You can tell Dr. Claire that I've confirmed her for 8 pm Saturday, and you're going to personally cook her dinner. We've got the 50th anniversary that night so maybe you could flex and make your Pavlova's? I'll get the berries myself." 

"It's a deal; we can comp them champagne, too. I'd better get going before I get yelled at. She's a stickler for punctuality, I think it's a British thing."  

"I'll hold things down until you get back," Hima gathered up the dishes and headed out with Ashton right behind her. 

*********

Ashton drew a deep breath and exhaled through his nose as the reporter settled in the chair across from him.  Kevin Mackie's column in L.A. Metro was the definitive opinion for restaurants on the West Coast. His readers loved the snarky tone, celeb sightings, and bitchy gossip that peppered his column. His reviews could make or break new restaurants. 

"Let me start off by saying I love the decor of this place. It's rustic, but not in that played out, hipster-in-the-woods nonsense," he leaned in and lowered his voice towards the end of the comment with a coy smirk. 

"You'll find no Mason jars here," Ashton replied, taking the bait. Kevin liked people who liked him, and his most recent column was a snarky takedown of "Pinterest style interiors." Ashton found the article tedious and uninspired, but there was no need to be antagonistic right out of the gate. 

Ashton watched as the reporter ordered his lunch from their server Zia. He guessed Kevin to be in his forties, and he thought he could see fresh hair plugs, bleached blonde, and a bit of Botox. Rumor had it, he'd recently split with his long-time girlfriend over a fling with a much younger waiter. Ashton tried not to pay attention to industry gossip. However, his personal problems made their way into the column more than once, and he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction at the other man's problems. 

After they'd both ordered, Kevin sat back and took a sip of his Pellegrino water and smacked his lips. "I was here the other night and I have to admit I was prepared to be underwhelmed. A menu based on sandwiches and comfort food sounded like an upscale Applebee's, but I really liked it despite myself. I was surprised to see your main girl was on the mature side, but she's efficient as hell so I get the trade-off." 

Ashton's body tensed at the insult to Maisie, and he took a deep breath. Exhaling through his nose he forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Kevin was prattling on with some bit of gossip as Ashton sipped on his iced coffee. 

"So let's start with something simple and ease our way into the rough stuff," Kevin set his voice recorder on the table between them. "Tell me how you formulated your top-secret house coffee blend." 

Ashton broke into a wide grin as he described taking two months to travel and sample different beans, learn more about the roasting and blending process. Kevin sipped his coffee and nodded as if deep in thought, but his eyes kept wandering to Ashton's biceps. He'd been baking this morning so he smelled of cinnamon, his black t-shirt damp and clingy from sweating under his chef coat.

"So we sell the house blend all year, but we have single-source coffee that's seasonal, all of it fair trade," Ashton finished proudly. 

"Coffee has always been your thing if I remember correctly," Kevin said.

"True, true, and once I started roasting my own beans it became a true obsession." 

Kevin followed it up with a couple more softball questions about menu details and sandwiches. Ashton expounded on his love of food. "Cooking for someone is a simple way to show care, to be enjoyed almost as much as dining should be. Food is caring and comfort; it sustains us. It brings people together in a shared experience."

 "Ooh that's a nice pull quote," Mackie chuckled. "I love when y'all have media training. It makes the bullshit flow much smoother.

Ashton seethed but said nothing. He'd watched this man's pettiness wreck a good opening, and Ashton couldn't do that to his crew. Zia brought their lunch. Ashton noticed Kevin had also ordered the chicken mojito wrap. 

"This looks delicious. I think it's a nice touch that you've got so much, let's say diversity, in your restaurant. That you're actually letting them make their own food makes your menu more interesting. Not all restaurants get it. Please tell me you've seen how horribly Finn ripped you off for that tacky Irish pub," Kevin glanced up at him a tiny smirk playing on

"I haven't paid any attention to that," Ashton wanted to end the interview right there. 

"Oh come on, you've had to see how much he's trying to recreate the magic you and Luke once had. The menu is tired, I don't give a fuck if he is Irish. Finn has no imagination yet fancies himself an impresario. Luke's still got it though. He even asked when I was coming here. I didn't tell him of course, I'm a professional after all." 

"Of course," Ashton nodded checking out of the conversation. The reporter talked as he ate which given the wrap he was eating proved especially messy and little flecks of food kept flying his way. Ashton watched the door, nodding at customers, silently willing someone to come and save him. Kevin was still talking about himself when Hima and Zia came out of the kitchen. Ashton tried to catch their eye when he felt a hand on his arm. 

"I wanna ask you about that one," Kevin leaned in so he could almost whisper.

"Who? Hima? What about her?" Ashton was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer. 

"What's the deal? I've only ever seen you with Luke. Did your palette change that much? India must've been a real spiritual awakening for you huh?" Kevin winked at him, thinking he was clever. 

Ashton controlled his breathing trying to keep his temper in check. He looked over at the reporter who kept talking oblivious to the situation. 

"Who doesn't like trying something exotic. She seems like a smart cookie. She's darker than most Indian girls you see, like a rich brown butter sauce. I bet she tastes like tumeric though." 

"Get out of my restaurant" Ashton hissed, his hands gripping the table to restrain himself from physical violence. "You are not going to insult my staff, my friends, in their restaurant." 

Kevin started to speak but Ashton cut him off.

"Not another fucking word" he kept his voice at a low growl so as not to cause a scene. He noticed a couple of the closest tables were already watching them. "You've said enough and I'm barely holding back as it is. Get out of my restaurant, don't ever come back, don't ever speak to me again, and if you trash me in this review I promise you I will find you and fuck you up personally." Ashton stood up and Kevin flinched, the sight would have made him laugh if he hadn't been so furious. He stepped back and the reporter scrambled out of his seat leaving his lunch unfinished. Ashton walked back into the kitchen, Hima fast on his heels. He kicked the door open to the break room and headed for the speed bag hanging in the corner. He'd learned the hard way punching walls usually resulted in the wall winning the fight so he'd given himself something easier on his hands. 

Hima watched him from the door, his back and biceps rippling as he went two minutes at full speed. When he finally turned around she could see the anger had cooled somewhat. She hated that her boss looked incredibly sexy when he was angry. 

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" She asked when he turned back around. 

"Nope, it'll just piss me off all over again, and I gotta get ready for another fucking interview. With a guy who already doesn't like me," Ashton put this coat back on and headed into the line to check on Rafi. 

At least the second interview can't be worse, she thought, wishing she believed it. 

*********

Calum eased his beat up Range Rover into the parking lot of Anne-Marie's amongst the Mercedes, Audi's, and Teslas. He cursed the traffic when he checked the time. He was late, and they were busy. Not a good look he thought, grabbing his bag. 

He smiled at the ladies waiting for a table before introducing himself to the impossibly serene hostess. He was quickly led to a table in an alcove not far from the kitchen. As he pulled out his voice recorder and notebook, he noticed a young woman heading his way. Her black hair was knotted tightly in a bun on top of her head, and her chef's coat had a large streak of what might be hollandaise sauce. He remembered his editor, Jacqueline, telling him Anne-Marie's had a female sous chef. He checked the notes she'd given him quickly as she was stopped by a server. Hima, Culinary Institute of America graduate, 23, Indian maybe? 

"Hello I'm Hima Singh, you must be Calum Hood," she greeted him. From up close, he noticed that her eyes were a rich golden brown and that her smile didn't reach her eyes. He chalked it up to her youth; his editor said she was 23 but she looked like a teenager. He mentally stopped himself there. He'd become jaded by one too many husband/wife teams in recent years trying to rebrand a post-divorce startup as a "new adventure." While the divorce was true, Calum knew Ashton's history.

"Yup that's me, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hima," he shook her hand, relieved to see her relax a bit. 

"Chef Irwin will be out shortly. He's helping with a problem in the back" she glanced towards the kitchen, and Calum had a feeling she was lying.

"Can I get you something while you wait? Do you like coffee? We have a house blend cold brew Chef Irwin selected himself that we roast and grind on-site," she asked motioning towards the sign listing the daily selection of teas and coffee. 

"Thanks, but maybe not coffee. I'm nervous enough without more caffeine," he admitted, "but the lavender and blackberry infused lemonade sounds amazing." He smiled and her face softened. 

"Absolutely," she signaled to Zia who brought Calum his drink and a basket of warm, fluffy yeast rolls with Anne Marie's cinnamon honey butter. The smell reminded Calum he'd skipped breakfast as his stomach began to rumble. 

"So you're Chef Irwin's sous chef? I heard a rumor you were a partner as well," he asked, almost drooling as he tore into the soft bread, watching the steam escape. 

"Yes sir," Hima's smile finally reached her eyes, and she sat down across from him. "When he got his core team together for Anne Marie's, there's three of us total. Desean and Rafi are his kitchen managers, and he gave us the opportunity to buy in as minority investors, no pun intended." 

"These rolls are incredible. Please take one before I finish this whole basket and ruin my lunch. How long have the three of you worked for Ashton, excuse me, Chef Irwin?" He asked.

"Desean and Rafi were part of his Lune Rouge crew. They go way back, but he met me fresh out of school and took me under his wing," she told him.

"Did you go to CIA?" Calum was jotting down notes, getting a feel for the story.

"I wish, it's so pretty up there. My twin brother attended Brown, and I went to Johnson and Wales so we could stay close." 

"You're a twin? Is he a chef as well?" Calum asked.

"Are you kidding? He's a lawyer, of course, my parents had to have one in the family," Hima laughed. 

Zia appeared beside their table. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Rafi is looking for you, Hima." 

A worried frown replaced her warm smile and Calum felt his nerves bubbling back up. He glanced around and caught sight of Ashton, flushed and sweaty from the heat of the kitchen, poking his head around the corner. Their eyes met, and Calum felt like he'd been hit by lightning.  

Hima saw his reaction and whipped around to see what Calum was looking at. Spotting her boss she quickly excused herself and hurried to the back. 

Zia cleared her throat and Calum realized she was still standing next to his table.

"Would you like to try Rafi's plantain skewers while you wait? It's my favorite thing here, and it'll leave room for whatever these geniuses cook up," she asked with a smile and a wink. 

He nodded and she headed to the server station to put the order in. Calum looked around and started taking notes.  The most striking thing about the decor was how they'd used diffused skylights for soft lighting to accent the Nakashima-style crafted wooden furniture.  Thanks to his Mom’s love of Antiques Roadshow when he was younger Calum discovered his preference for natural grain wood and bespoke pieces. He liked the use of pastel neon signs to complement the muted green and blue tones of the mosaic tile floors and he thought the framed pictures of what he assumed were family photos of the staff provided a really nice personal touch. The largest photo was in the bar of Ashton and his mother, the restaurant's namesake, Anne Marie. 

Zia set a plate down in front of him. "The boss will be out in a minute., Let me get you some more tea," she told him. 

The skewers consisted of chunks of pineapple, plantain, red onion, and sweet potato grilled and dusted with chili powder and brown sugar served with a yogurt sauce for dipping. 

Calum was almost finished with the first one when Ashton came out of the back, making his way towards him. The chef stopped to talk to several customers, the hostess, and Zia before he made it to Calum's table. Cal licked his fingers, wiping his hands clean with a Sani-wipe before standing up and offering a handshake. 

Ashton took his hand and Calum wasn't expecting it to feel so soft. Caught off guard Calum stammered out an introduction as he sat, but he noticed Ashton just nodded, barely listening. 

"If today isn't a good day we can reschedule," Calum sipped his tea, his throat suddenly dry.

"I'm here aren't I?" Ashton snapped. He folded his arms across his chest, his hazel eyes narrowing at Calum. "I still remember your first review you know."

Calum's pulse was racing. He hated confrontation, and he hadn't expected Ashton to kick off right away. He knew he'd better suck it up and apologize if this wasn't going to go completely off the rails. 

"Listen, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have been such a dickhead."  As he spoke Ashton scoffed at him and Calum felt his cheeks get warm.  "I was young and stupid. I let something personal affect that review. I'm sorry." 

"Personal? With Luke? What do you mean by that?" Ashton went from annoyed to hostile.

Calum realized he'd said something wrong but wasn't sure what exactly. He was floundering trying to think of what to say next. 

"Nothing with Luke, no no no. I was involved with Finn and we weren't getting along. It's so stupid I know, but I think you're a great chef. The new place looks incredible, and Hima is a delight." 

The anger drained from Ashton's face, leaving him looking empty and sad. His head dropped to his chest, and Calum held his breath waiting for him to speak. 

"I'm really sorry, it's not you, but I can't do this right now. Maybe we can reschedule or something. My apologies, but I have to get back to work," Ashton mumbled, standing up. 

Calum spotted Hima watching them from the podium, chewing on her lip, her black eyes wide with concern as Ashton hurried back to the kitchen. Calum started to get up but she was too quick for him. 

"Well, aren't you lucky. I'm going on my lunch and I hate to eat alone," she slid back into the seat across from him. "Please forgive my boss. He's had a rough day, but I'm better company anyway." She waved to Zia who headed their way. "You gotta try the toasted gnocchi with gorgonzola cream sauce if you like cheese, but if you want something lighter the apple carrot kale wrap is excellent too," she smiled at him, and to her relief he smiled back, both of them realizing the situation might be salvageable after all.

(A/N: y’all my tag list, much like my life, is a hot mess. I know some of what I write isn’t for everyone. If you want tagged in part 2 of this fic or my upcoming smuts, pink kink series, or dad!calum series please let me know. I apologize for my previous mistake)

@sublimehood​ @tea4sykes​ @be-ready-when-i-say-go​ @scribblesos​ @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995​ @wildmichaelflower​ @castaway-cashton​ @damselindistressanu​ @notinthesameguey​ @cashtonasfuck​ @irwinkitten​ @mermaidcashton​ @malumsmermaid​

[puckngrind]

What’s In A Name: 4 - J. Toews

Chapter 4

Where we left off: Bekah joined the Lady Jackets with Brynn in Chicago and didn’t tell Jon but he found out.  After the game, he wrapped his arm around her at the arena to head back home making Bekah question things.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 3,468

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Questions.

Brynn had nothing but questions from the time Bekah returned to the hotel the next morning until the two hit her couch the following weekend after Chicago. Why didn’t Bekah tell her? Why would she not call them dating? How often does he text? Is he good in bed? Most of the questions were met with an I don’t know or I’m not telling you. Bekah was a slightly open book with her best friend but telling her how Jon makes her melt into a puddle wasn’t something she wanted to devolve.

April hit and Jon’s texts became less frequent. The Blackhawks made the playoffs and Bekah found herself most evenings in her apartment watching the game. Wondering if this was the round they would get knocked out. She would text Brynn asking for clarification on a hockey related thing. A day after beating the Ducks in 7 games Bekah looks down to see Jon’s name flashing on her phone.

“Hey Beks.” She can tell he’s laying down and there is a strain in his voice.

“Hey Tae?” Bekah’s questioning reply was noticed. “Congrats on making the cup finals again!”

“Thanks. I was thinking...”. He paused and cleared his throat. “Could you come? I don’t know, maybe starting the June 13th? We will be either be playing game 6 or we will be out. If it goes to 7 games you have the choice of coming to Tampa with me or hanging out at my place?” There was a silence on the line. Jon waited. “Beks?”

“Uh, I was just thinking. Sorry. Yeah, that should be fine. It’s a little short notice for work but I’ll see what I can do.” Bekah started pacing her apartment.

“Awesome. I know I could have just texted you but I wanted to hear your voice it’s been sooo long.” Jon’s voice staggers.

“Oh? I’ve heard your voice a few times during interviews.” This makes Jon laugh.

“I’ll set up your flight and everything as soon as you tell me if you can get me off...I mean get off work...fuck...me. I’m just gonna stop talking.” He cusses to himself.

“The whole no sex during playoffs really messing with you huh?” Bekah bites her knuckle to hold back the laughter.

“Well it’s been a little longer than playoffs so yeah...you could say it’s messing with me a bit. I just keep thinking of you. Speaking of, if it goes to game 6 and 7 you will be staying in a guest room. Sleeping next to you would probably make me explode.” The admission made Bekah’s entire body jolt. They quickly said their goodbyes and she typed out an email requesting off for the week.

Bekah flew in the morning of the 12th. Jon explained that they would be passing ships essentially but wanted to make sure she was set up before he left for the game in Tampa. Jon told her a driver would be picking her up and when she saw Beks scribbled on a piece of paper and Jon’s face emerging from under the Cubs hat she jumped and picked up the pace to him stopping just short of running into his arms. “Can I touch you or no?” She jokes.

“C’mere.” Jon pulls Bekah in and kisses her. Her hand immediately grabs at his beard.

“What barn are you raising tonight, Tae?” Jon chuckles as the two walk to grab Bekah’s bags. “Seriously, I thought it was just the bad rink lighting from my television.”

“My genetics hates the no shave protocols what can I say.” Jon kisses her on the top of her hair. “I’ve missed you, Beks.” He breathes in.

“Same, now let’s get me back to your place so you can kick some Tampa ass.”

Jon left a ridiculously detailed note about how to operate everything in his home. The number for the team manager if he didn’t answer and his house cleaning service just in case. Bekah roamed the halls of the giant townhouse. Taking in the things she didn’t notice before or he added and she didn’t know. She felt tiny in his massive kitchen but realized it was perfect for him in the many conversations about cooking they had. She finally wandered into the room he mapped out as the guest room she would use. Laying on the bed she sees a box. Jon’s scribble on a card laying on top.

You don’t have to wear this but it will look better than the last sweater I saw on you. Always, Tae

Bekah pries open the box to reveal a Blackhawks home jersey. Pulling it out of the box she notices the C on the chest. Flipping it around, Bekah fingers graze over the letters in Toews embroidered across the top. Of course he got her his jersey and not just a blank one. She slipped it on over her tshirt and snapped a pic in the mirror. Typing out a how does this look message she tossed her phone on the bed not expecting the quick response.

Jon: holy fuck Beks. I’ve never seen anyone look so hot with my name on their back.

Bekah: I’m sure 🙄

Jon: I’m adjusting myself right now because that’s how turned on I am. I’ll send proof

Bekah: I believe you. Good luck tomorrow. I’m gonna snoop through all your stuff and then head to bed.

Jon: Knock yourself out! Nothing to hide. I’m gonna take a very very cold shower.

The next night Bekah curled up on the sofa to watch game 5. Win they would come back only needing one more game to win...lose they would hope to go into game 7. Bekah kept falling asleep but the phone call in period 3 woke her.

“Derek thinks you are gonna see them take the cup at home.” Brynn’s voice vibrates in Bekah’s ear.

“Oh?” Bekah rubs her eyes and realizes the Blackhawks just scored with a few minutes left.

“He’s very jealous. Actually stewing about it if I were to go that far.” Brynn giggles.

“I guess I should wear this jersey then?” Bekah yanks on the Blackhawks emblem.

“He got you a jersey? Please tell me it’s his!”

“Yes Rin, it’s his. Not his his because I’m sure that would be swimming on me his sweatshirts do and pads don’t go under them.”

“Friend, I don’t know what you two call whatever this is but men who are just using women for sex aren’t letting them stay in their mansions without them, borrow their sweatshirts, and wrapping their chiseled arms around someone in public they consider their fuck buddy.” Brynn huffed out. Bekah could feel that she’d been keeping that in for awhile. She heard a beep and pulled the phone to see.

“Oh, shit he’s calling.”

“And they definitely don’t call them as soon as they get off the damn ice. Love ya!” With that Brynn hangs up and Bekah answers Jon’s call.

“You won Tae!” She breathe out not realizing she was holding it taking in all what Brynn was saying.

“We did! And we were suppose to fly back tomorrow morning but something got messed up with the hotel and we are heading to the plane. I just didn’t want to freak you out when I came in super late.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you for breakfast then.”

“Bye Beks.” She hung up and headed upstairs.

The slight kiss on her forehead the next morning was the next thing she remembered. “Sleep well?” Jon was dressed in his team issued sweats.

“Good morning!” Bekah answers quietly. “Your guest bed is pretty comfy I might not move.”

“I made breakfast and then I gotta get to the rink.” Jon’s voice sounded deeper to Bekah.

“Oh! Oh!” She rubs her eyes taking in the playoff beard. “Sorry. I forgot about the beard. When does that come off?” She ran her finger down the hard line between his soft cheek and coarse beard.

“When we win it all...or lose but I’m hoping we can win the cup here for once. For the fans.” Jon stands up.

The two make their way up to the rooftop where Jon has bacon, toast, fruit, some drink concoction that is clearly meant for him and coffee for Bekah.

“You don’t eat bread.” She pulls the mug to her lips then sips.

“I don’t but you do. So I made sure to have some for this week.”

“Thanks.” The two fall into easy conversation before he leaves for practice.

Bekah wandered her way down to campus while he was gone and took in the changes in the years since she graduated. She saw Blackhawks gear everywhere. She wondered if she just never noticed or because they were playing for the cup the next day was the reason for the abundance of sightings. She realizes how many times she could have seen Jon play before she graduated. Her best friend, only college friend, was an avid hockey fan from Minnesota. She would try to convince Bekah to go with her all the time. Chances of them meeting back then we’re slim and Bekah was sure as she walked back into his home that there was no way he would have ever noticed her if they had.

Dinner that evening was on the rooftop too. The views were amazing especially at night.

“You okay?” Bekah took in Jon’s demeanor and if that didn’t give away that something was bothering him the clicking of his foot on his chair was hard to ignore.

“Maybe a little nervous about tomorrow. Maybe a little horny. Maybe...I don’t know.”

“Maybe what Jon?” Bekah pulls her knees up into her chest while she waits Jon out.

“You are sitting in the family section.” Bekah gulps but nods. “It was the only seats I could get.”

“Ok...wait seats?” Bekah raises her voice accidentally.

“Yeah,” Jon nervously rubs his neck. “My parents are here and you are sitting behind them.”

“Oh...oh...OH!”

“Please say something else.” Jon squints.

“Fuck. Um. Yeah. That’s...fine. Have you told them about me? I mean why would you...but...fuck. Me in your jersey will look fantastic. Maybe I shouldn’t wear it. Hi, I’m Rebekah Pierce. I’ll be the one releasing your son of all his built up tension tonight if they win...nice to meet you.”

Jon start choking on the bite he just placed in his mouth and keeps coughing. “Shit! Babe!” Bekah rounds the table and pats him hard on the back. He finally stops and turns to pull her into his lap. “You cannot die tonight I would like to see you win this cup thing!” Jon smiles and kisses Bekah. “Oh Captain. That’s against the rules.” Bekah eyes down to where she can feel Jon hard as a rock.

“I’m fine. I’ll just take another ice bath. I’ve come accustom to them lately.” This makes Bekah giggle. “And my parents know I have someone here which is why they are not. They don’t know what we are because let’s be real...we don’t know. And please don’t talk about releasing anything to them. Fuck. I would like to pretend that my mother still thinks at 26 I’m saving myself.”

“Say what?” Bekah bats her eyes processing.

“They will be polite and I’m sure won’t ask too many questions.” Jon kisses her and she feels him jolt below her.

“I’m gonna get up now. I will not be to blame for a loss of anything.” Bekah kisses his forehead and starts to clear the table.

She felt her palms dripping with more and more sweat with each person being escorted to her section. Finally a Toews jersey on a lady that could easily be his mother comes into Bekah’s view followed by several others. Before Bekah can say anything the woman leading the group smiles at her. “You must be Beks.” Her arms come up to hug Bekah.

“Rebekah. Pierce. Yes. Nice to meet you Mrs. Toews.”

“Well...bonus points for the pronunciation.” Jon’s brother, David, laughs out. They made their introductions and sat down for warm ups. Jon skated a few time past them. Andrée turned around talking to Bekah more than paying attention to the ice. Bekah wondered if games ever got old for her. How many games has she gone to in his lifetime?

“I know a little about you. Just not super into hockey. You work in marketing in Columbus. Oh, and you keep my son on his toes. Which is what he needs.” She pats Bekah’s knee as she feels the heat in her face. Jon telling his mom about her added another layer to this whole thing. Thankfully the game started and the attention was drawn away from her and onto him. Bekah was on the edge of her seat. When the horn sounded and the Blackhawks won the stadium exploded. Without even realizing it Andrée had Bekah’s hand dragging her with the rest of the families to the ice.

Bekah leans into Andrée who is beaming since they left their seats. “I don’t belong here.” Bekah admits looking at the families waiting for the team.

“He said you would say that which is why I was told to drag you to the ice with me. He clearly knows you well.” She winked and then there he was. A hot smelly mess with a look on his face that made Bekah forget that she felt out of place. Andrée embraced her son pulling on the beard telling him it looked better every year. The rest of the family gave their hugs of congratulations and the Jon turns to Bekah.

His eyes soften as he pulled her in for a hug. Bekah feels his sweaty lips at her hairline and she laid her head on his chest. “I’m glad you didn’t fight my mom about this.” Bekah looks up and wraps her arms around his neck and he picks her up. “A little more celebrating here then home m’kay?” Jon kisses her temple then skates off to finish the victory celebration and interviews.

Jon busted through his Lincoln Park door with Bekah wrapped around his waist. The high from the Stanley Cup win adding to the need for each other. “Do you wanna head up?” Bekah tried to catch her breath as Jon unlatched her bra from under the jersey.

“Maybe later.” Jon eyes the couch and places Bekah down slowly. She goes take off the jersey and he stops her. “Keep that on. I’ve been dreaming about you in that for days.” Jon licks his lips and sucks his breath in hard.

“Oh. Okay Captain.” Bekah pulls her lip in between her teeth while she pulls off her pants and panties. Jon quickly removes his suit. “If ya want to bend me over the couch I’m already ridiculously wet.” Bekah stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips into Jon’s. The slew of French and English curse words mixed with grunts sent an unknown energy radiating through her body. Jon didn’t answer but spun Bekah around and she bent over the back of the couch. He tapped her inner thigh then moves the tail of her jersey up her back. Bekah looked up at Jon just as he slammed into her rocking both their bodies and the couch forward.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“I’m not.” Bekah barked out feeling the familiar stretch of Jon’s length against her walls.

“I’m not gonna last long but I’ll make up for it.” Jon states before leaning over and hooking his finger onto Bekah’s clit.

“Jon. Fuck.” Bekah cried out feeling her orgasm flood her body and then his pulsating deep inside her. His tired body pulls hers up to his chest.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Bekah turns around and leans against the couch.

“For the quickie. Not exactly my style. But damnit if you aren’t hot as hell in that sweater.” Jon traces her lips with his finger.

“Well, we have all week, right? I wasn’t expecting a marathon anyway plus watching you holding that cup up in the air was orgasm worthy.”

“Damnit Beks. You do things to me.” He dips down to kiss her lips.

“Now about this beard? Can we?” Bekah uses her fingers to illustrate cutting it off.

“Yes, let’s head upstairs.” Before she can move Jon hoists her over his shoulder and heads to his master bath. He places her gently on the sink’s countertop.

“I have legs damnit and I’m not a trophy.” Jon laughs and kisses her. “Plus how do you still have all that strength?”

“Adrenaline Beks. And you are better than any trophy.” Jon got the razor set, bowl of warm water, and towels out. He reaches for the razor and Bekah’s hand stops him.

“Do you trust me?” She pulls the razor from between his fingers and places it down. He just nods then stands between her legs. Bekah begins with the badger hair brush and cream. Lathering up his already damp beard. Jon’s eyes flash from her to the reflection in the mirror back to her. Using her thumbs she rubs down the bottom of his jawline causing a grunt to rumble deep in his chest. Finally grabbing the razor she whispers...”you trust me right?”

“Yes Beks. With everything.” His admission brought down the first stroke from the razor. She worked methodically down his face and then focused on his jawline making sure not to cut him. Jon groaned with every swipe of her thumb as she checks her work. Finally Bekah reaches for the warm, wet towel and gently wipes off the remaining cream and hair. Jon’s fresh clean face exposed. Bekah leans over to pull the moisturizing cream out from the tub but Jon catches her face and pulls her into his lips.

“That was so fucking sexy.” Jon whispers into her lips.

“Can I finish?” Bekah pulls away and runs the moisturizer down Jon’s face and neck and finally his shoulders. She feels him shutter under her grip. “Now I’m done.” She looked over her work then Jon captures her lips in his again. “I just realized you should be out partying with your teammates.” Bekah pulls away and places her hand on his chest to keep them apart. Jon shrugs. “You should go! The entire city is excited...I’m sure you won’t pay for a single drink Tae.” Jon’s strength over powers her and has Bekah’s body presssd tightly to his chest.

“Nah. I like this celebration better. The partying is more for the young guys and the ones who haven’t won it yet.” Jon’s muscles tighten around Bekah.

“Jon.” She squeaks out his name in protest.

“Beks, I have three cups now, two gold medals, and a world championship. I have partied plenty in my day with the winnings of each of them and I’m only 27. I just want to crawl into bed. Properly give you an orgasm and then do it again in the morning.”

“Damn.” Bekah whispers more for herself in realization that Jon wasn’t just a pro hockey player but would one day be in the hall of fame. Her face caught on fire when she realized that after winning the cup all he wanted to do is celebrate with her.

“You gotta talk to me Bekah.” Jon’s voice finally broke through her thought process. “Babe!” He swipes gently at the strands of hair that have fallen to her face. “Beks, talk to me.” Panic dripping from his voice.

“You called me Bekah.” She finally blurted out.

“And, it IS your name?”

“Yeah but you only ever call me Beks. Even your mother called me it which is conversation in itself later...but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me Bekah before.” This makes Jon smile.

“I just gave you the expansive run down of my hockey winnings that had earned me a spot in the Triple Gold Club...and you focus on the nickname I use!” Jon laughs hard and stares deep into Bekah’s eyes.

“Triple Gold Club, what the...what is that?”

“Youngest member too but that’s not what we are talking about.” Jon runs his thumb tightly along Bekah’s jaw line then over her lips she pulls it in and sucks hard. “Fuck Beks... I’m already hard.” She looks down between their bodies to see for herself.

“I just don’t want to be the reason you are not celebrating with your team and fans Tae.” She slides her finger from his collarbone bone down his abs.

“There is exit interviews and a giant ass parade. Plus I prefer my day with the cup over most of the public celebrations.” Bekah hummed taking in this information. “Can we take this to the bed now?” With that Bekah nodded and Jon carried her to his bed.

[bbnibini]

PSISLY: An Obey Me!CYOA – forty-four🔖

{ OPEN STATUS : YES

> approved > displaying capture targets

Mammon : 100♡/100♡ Satan: 85♡/100♡ Barbatos: 0♡/100♡ Lucifer: 5♡/100♡

CLOSE STATUS : YES >approved }

You wondered where it all went wrong.

Everything had been perfect since you discovered the identity of your secret admirer. Uncovering sides of Mammon that perhaps he wasn't even aware of himself, you spent a lot of time getting to know each other, marveling at every new thing you discovered about him. You kept his love-filled words close to your heart, lingering there at times when you felt lost and perhaps even unloved. His penned words were beautiful yet poignant, hopeful yet deep which, you have eventually discovered reflected so much of Mammon himself. He often rebuffed your praises, perhaps shy of your careful observations. There would always be a blush there dusting his cheeks, colouring itself in deeper shades at every sneaky kiss. You always liked those nights when you talk about anything that pops out of your minds, and you thought he liked them too. But now, you were starting to feel doubt.

"Mammon, I didn't mean to--"

He turned away from you and covered his face with both of his hands. "This ai-- this won't…" he hesitated. "It will never work between us."

How did it come to this?

💌💌💌

Flashback to this morning when it all started.

"Mammon?" you couldn't help but reach out to him, your hand touching his cheek. ' Didn't the spell work?' you thought to yourself as you heard him stutter a 'Yes', kissing your inner palms.

"Is something amiss, my love? You look like you've seen a ghost."

So it didn't work?

You shook your head and let your hand rest on his cheek. "No…I was just wondering if you wanted to sleep some more."

Why is he still acting like this?

"If I sleep now, then it would ruin yesterday's efforts." he fiddled with something in his DDD--his email app; showing two booked tickets to Devil's Coast. Signs of the old Mammon showed in his boyish grin. "And all it took was covering for an acquaintance's shift."

"Is that why you're there yesterday?"

Mammon smiled shyly. "Yes…I wanted to surprise you. Is it too early to celebrate the conclusion of our final exams?"

You couldn't help but smile back. You planted a kiss on his lips which he happily received. "Very early. But this is a nice change of pace before Armageddon."

"Ain't that the--" he cleared his throat and quickly corrected himself. "Very true. Once this weekend is over, we are back to our old, monotonous routines."

You weren't imagining it. Something about his graceful movements really did seem off. "I'm looking forward to it!" Then again, you supposed there was a reason behind this. You decided to humour him and pretend you haven't noticed anything. "Let me wash up first and we can grab something to eat?"

"That sounds lovely."

Hoping your feigned smile wouldn't betray you, you shut the bathroom door and quickly opened your DDD to text Satan.

You looked at your own reflection in the mirror and nodded to yourself. Turtleneck it is. You learned your lesson the last time. A mixture of Mammon's toiletries and yours were in the bathroom, making you remember how he was trying his best to hide his excitement from invading half of your space the first time you talked about sharing a room. Not like his room was safe from your own stuff too--it just so happens that he likes hanging around your room lately because of how busy you were. He usually finishes his council duties early and tries (read: tried) to help you with yours, until both of you immediately realise that his bystanding was the best help he could offer. Any pouting from his side was placated with hugs and kisses, words of love he was too shy to say back and a loving gaze he couldn't help but give you when he thought you wouldn't notice. He still isn't the most honest demon when it comes to expressing his feelings, but you can see that he was trying. You just hoped that his recent gentlemanly behaviour is also a part of his trials and he isn't involved in anything dangerous.

Letting go of your nostalgia and embracing the present back in your thoughts, you wondered about the sound of shattering glass from outside. There you saw a flustered Mammon picking up the shards of what looked like Lucifer's china with his bare hands--his gentlemanly facade was nowhere to be seen.

"Mammon, no! Put that down. You'll injure yourself!" you cried, responding on instinct to take his hands into yours, throwing the shards back to the floor in the process. You snuck a look at Mammon and saw his troubled expression, bitten lips you usually noticed when he wasn't having the best kind of thoughts---or you simply dubbed as sad Mammon upon discovering it one drunken, wild and passionate night. You couldn't smell any alcohol on him this time though so you wondered what caused him to look this way.

"I'm fine…" Gentlemammon was back, albeit with a shaky voice. "Please don't worry, I still have to clean this up."

"Let me help you."

"It will heal quickly even if I get injured. There is nothing to worry about." he assured you, keeping your warning in mind, only to take it back once he saw your worried look. "I will wear gloves this time," he said as he hastily placed each pair on, a small smile forming his lips as he did so. "There, you see? I will be fine. So please step back now and I'll do it myself."

"What were you doing anyway?"

Mammon avoided eye contact. "I wanted to serve you breakfast in bed."

"That's very sweet but, you shouldn't push yourself too hard."

Silence. He continued picking up the shards, disposing of it in a trash bag nearby. "I want to push myself." You heard him sigh. "However, I suppose it's my mistake to assume I can carry this out without failure. Can I try again though?"

You didn't have the heart to reject him especially if he looked like a kicked puppy right now. "Of course! But I want to eat with you."

A compromise that he was willing to adhere to. The pancakes he made were slightly charred and oddly spicy. The Melancholy Coffee™ you praised him for making the other day tasted even worse---unpleasantly bitter that if you didn't attribute its strong, bitter taste to Mammon's love for you would have caused a gagging reflex. A feigned smile was painted on your face for the rest of breakfast, making mental notes to take stomach medicine once he is out of sight. You comforted yourself with the fact that you had a date with him today. The bitterness subsided a bit with your early morning daydreams.

Satan had been a wonderful accomplice. With his intervention, Mammon avoided bumping into anyone, thus making his situation a lot  less complicated. The avatr of wrath gave you a conspiratory smile and a wink, mouthing you well wishes for your day by your lover's side to go smoothly. You nodded and mouthed back at him a  thanks in reply. Your back and forth didn't escape notice however. You avoided Mammon's sensible questioning with a clueless smile.

"I haven't seen even Beelzebub at the dining area today. Is everyone but Satan asleep?"

Smile.

"I was going to pay back Leviathan for the money I owed him this morning. I wonder why he isn't around today…"

He will pay back?! Smile

"I wonder how my dear eldest brother Lucifer is doing--"

S-smile…

"As I thought, perhaps expecting change from me is unsightly. I'm sorry if I'm wasting your weekend by asking you out out of the blue…"

Smi--

"Wait, no!" you held him by his face and vehemently denied his claims. "I love you, Mammon! I'm looking forward to today as you are!"

Blush.

Your faces resembled tomatoes. Satan had to clear his throat to remind both of you of his presence.

"If you flirt any longer, you'll miss your bus."

"R-right…" you looked away.

"Certainly." Mammon stuttered. You felt a hand reaching out for yours, turning to Mammon who had a bashful smile. You smiled back and interlocked your fingers together.

The ride to the amusement park was awkward yet pleasant. You saw cracks in his facade a couple of times, familiar with the reluctance on his movements unlike his odd and almost unsettling finesse at the cafe. You still weren't sure if he really is still under a curse or not, or if he is and it was weakening every moment, but you decided to wait for him to address it on his own. You have recently learned that Mammon gets really flustered if you pay attention to him (bordering almost on timidity) and loses his will/drive if you let him know that you are aware of him. A few pillow talks ago, he admitted it was because he only wanted to show you his cool sides, to which you answered (with much confusion), "But you're always cool though?" and he responded with his usual remarks, ranging from "idiot" to his classic "weirdo"™. Today, much like yesterday however, there was none of that. Instead, he called you several affectionate pet names, and even bashfully shared some snacks with you that he usually considered as "indirect kiss territory", which is Mammon Code for "I ain't doin' this cos I like it, kay?" which totally meant that he was doing it because he liked the heck out of it.

"Hey Mammon," you looked at his reflection from your window seat as you spoke. "Why did you write me a letter?"

You saw him blush an adorable shade of red from the window. "What's with the sudden question?"

"I was just curious," you answered. "I didn't know you could write so well."

"I-is that so…"

"I really appreciate it, although you might be tired of hearing it already."

"...."

"I'm so glad you sent it to me. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder if anyone will ever remember me once I go back to the human world." you remembered your first interaction with him and laughed. "We didn't have the best first impression of each other, didn't we?"

"...I should have treated you better."

You leaned your head on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, looking up to meet his eyes. "You're doing it now and that's what matters."

You sensed sadness in his eyes for a fraction of a second before the conductor announced your stop. You must have imagined it.

💌💌💌

"Wahhh! Mammon, look! Look! Is that Red Devil?! Kyaaaa he's so cuuuute!!"

"O-oi, don't pull-- I mean…Cease! Cease!"

You couldn't help it! There was so much to see everywhere! The crowded theme park was filled with all kinds of attractions at every direction that any child or child-at-heart would definitely enjoy. Taking a photo with the park's mascot, Red Devil is one of the first activities you have done from your many planned ones on your date. Your contagious enthusiasm had infected him that by the time he realised he was grinning at every picture, it was too late. He looked oddly disturbed but you only laughed it off and reassured him that the shots were great!

"It isn't...after all, I'm--"

"Mammon?"

"It's nothing." You were beginning to feel bad for dragging him along.

"Is everything okay?" he suddenly turned pale and you asked him to sit down. "Do you want to take a break?"

He declined your offer and shook his head. "I'm fine. Let's continue our date, shall we?"

Eh?

That pose…

"The Devilish Duke?"

It was definitely the Devilish Duke from the manga adaptation of Emison Beckstein's timeless classic, The Emerald-Eyed Earl. The Devilish Duke was the protagonist's fiancé and was a minor villain in the story. He became hugely popular because of the success of the manga adaptation as well as the artist's interpretation of his design. You couldn't help but mention it right now because Mammon was currently mimicking the Duke's infamous "courtship pose", which many otakus credit for being the very first ever "kabedon".

Mammon's eyes widened once you mentioned his name and quickly pulled away. He dragged you gently to the next attraction before you could say a word.

His odd behaviour only persisted as your date went on-- a kiss on your hand near the fountains, like what Senpai-San did to Shujinko-chan in Heartbeat Memorial: My First Love, Please Notice Me Or I Will Spontaneously Combust! ; a reiteration of an infamous line from a popular otome game, Mystery Message Delivery in the ferris wheel, as well as a kiss at its top, just like Mary Sue and Gary Stu from the popular Devildom Drama, I'm a Powerful Demon But I Fell in Love with a Human?. If you weren't familiar with the references, your heart must have already given out the first time he attempted those moves at you, but since you were aware of where they're from, you couldn't help but think it was cute instead. He must have done his own research to make you happy, but it was a failure on his part to not realise that you would have been happy even if he didn't go out of his way. Then again, it was pretty unfair to complain because anything Mammon did in your own biased eyes was precious and adorable.

"I love you, Mammon." you muttered loud enough for him to hear while you were in line for the Devil's Teacups . He must have heard it because he squeezed your hand tighter as you waited.

There were still times when he persisted on keeping his Gentlemammon™ facade, much like when he declined going to the horror house with you, only for you to find out he wanted to turn you down in the first  because he wasn't very good with ghosts (You had to wait for him to defrost after turning into a literal ice sculpture when one of the ghosts grabbed him by the ankle). He also swore not to let you ride "rigorous rides", but finally let his hair down and rode all of your favourite thrill rides with his usual energy and cheer. By the time he realised this, both of you were lining up for the March of Death for the third time. You learned your lesson already and didn't make a fuss about his tiny revelation. Instead, you held him by the arm and smiled at him. "It's fun, isn't it?" Mammon looked shocked at first, but as he sighed and finally replied, you noticed he was back to his usual self.  "It certainly is." Your heart immediately deflated at his answer, but more than anything, you couldn't help but be disappointed in yourself.

He had his guard up for the rest of your date and you didn't know why. It seemed like he was forcing himself. The sun was starting to set, and the bus home had been terribly late so you had a lot of time to contemplate while waiting for it to come. Mammon had been silent, looking up at the sky as if searching for something far away. You didn't want him to wander too far so you pulled him back.

"Why have you been acting weird since yesterday. What's wrong?" you couldn't help it. You have finally ran out of patience and you're starting to take his unusual behaviour personally, which you know deep down was unfair especially with how he went out of his way today.

Mammon looked taken aback, frowning once he processed your words. "What do you mean?"

"That. Why…why are you doing that?"

"..."

When he didn't answer, you finally aired out the thoughts weighing you down. "I didn't want to ask you because I wanted you to say it first, I'm sorry. Was it because of what I said last night?"

He called your name, sounding hurt. "Do you not like it?"

You shook your head. "I meant it when I said I don't like it, you know. And I mean it in the best way!" You held him by the hand and placed it close to your chest, hoping your beating heart was already telling. "I prefer the real you."

"Do you really mean that?"

You nodded again. "I even consulted Satan yesterday to undo your curse. You...you were cursed, weren't you?"

"So it was you."

What?

"Mammon,what's going on?" What did he mean by that? You started to worry.

However, despite your repetitions, Mammon didn't answer. Instead, he only looked at you guiltily. At some point, he held your hand back with his trembling ones. He needs time, you thought to yourself and kissed his knuckles, not saying a word. Eventually, your patience was rewarded.

"...I asked the witches to curse me."

You quietly urged him to continue speaking. "I just wanted this date to be perfect, y'know? Don't wanna screw it up. I always do.

.

.

.

.

.

Now don't look at me like that. It's unfair. Ya say one thing but mean another. Even you are sick and tired of me, yeah?"

What…

.

.

.

.

.

When did you ever say that?!

It hurt. It hurts to think that Mammon ever thought you'd think of him that way. You thought you had been a wonderful lover to him, always showering him with affection and treasuring every moment you shared together. You thought he knew how much he mattered to you, but it turns out you weren't expressing yourself enough and he assumed you were lying to yourself.

"I…I never…"

Crap. Now, you can't even see him clearly. Stupid tears. You felt him wiping your eyes at every tear shed, muttering apologies as he gently held you in his arms. "Shit! I didn't mean to make ya cry. Fuck, this is why I'm such a screw up! If I coulda stayed cursed for a while longer, you'd never cry like this!"

"Mammon…I love you." you repeated those words again and again until you were satisfied. "Didn't I tell you? I love you for who you are and what you are that I have eventually found out on my own."

He didn't speak after what you said, instead he pulled you away from the hug. Despite feeling disheartened, you continued to speak. "Mammon, I don't care how long it takes for you to accept that you are all of the things I tell you. If I can lend you my eyes so you can see what kind of wonderful demon I'm seeing whenever I look at you, I'd do so in a heartbeat. I love you."

You thought this would placate him, but instead, he sneered. "Which part of me do you actually love?"

"Everything!" you answered. "I love that there is so much more to you than meets the eye---I feel thankful every day that I have been privy to see that sweet and sincere side of you, especially in your letter. True, I did not feel that way at first, but the letter, oh Mammon. I fell in love with you upon reading its first passages! No one had ever said such precious words to me in my life, so I wanted to do the same for you."

"In the end, it's always that stupid letter."

"Excuse me?"

"IT'S ALWAYS THAT STUPID FUCKING LETTER!" he shouted, immediately regretting his outburst once he saw the hurt look on your face. However hurt you looked as the truth was spoken to you, he pressed on and twisted the knife even further. If a sweet memory is a calm before your inevitable storm (read: breakup), it was better to at least tell you the truth.

"I can't see it. I can't see that wonderful demon you're always talking about---the one who wrote that letter to you." The sunset dyed his silver hair orange. "I tried seeing him. Maybe it's me who's the problem, y'know? You kept on telling me I'm all these amazin' things, but I just couldn't. All I see is...me."

"Mammon."

"You said I was sincere, but I don't remember bein' sincere at all when I was writin' that stupid thing, so I tried to be even if I was bad at it. You said I was thoughtful so I tried to be, but look at where that thoughtfulness went---tears on your fucking face." he laughed bitterly. "I'm an absolute saint, aren't I?"

"...I really meant it you know?"

" 'Course you do. That's fer sure. But lovin' a scum means he's still scum. You deserve better, and I can't give that to ya."

"But Mammon…I only want you."

Mammon's bitter smile never left his face. "Do ya really? Or do you want the Mammon who wrote you the letter?"

!!!

"See? I gotcha, didn't I?"

You don't understand. What did he get that you didn't? You love Mammon, that was the truth. You did not love him, and weren't even aware of him at first, but the letter he sent to your locker changed that. It was a catalyst for finally seeing him in a completely different light. What was the difference between the Mammon who wrote the letter to the Mammon in front of you in the first place? Aren't they one and the same? Was he joking right now? Because you certainly weren't laughing.

However many thoughts were racing in your mind right now, only three words seem to come out of you.

"I love you," and every utterance only brought more tears in your eyes, afraid of the possibility that Mammon must have been feeling the same way right now.

You were tired. Tired of explaining it to him, tired of reassuring him that he was fine the way he is. Every 'I love you' was like a dagger to your heart, growing conscious of the fact that both of you may feel the same way, but both of your feelings weren't reaching each other at all.

In your exasperation, you couldn't help but finally say,

"I don't want this anymore."

You wondered where it all went wrong.

Everything had been perfect since you discovered the identity of your secret admirer. Uncovering sides of Mammon that perhaps he wasn't even aware of himself, you spent a lot of time getting to know each other, marveling at every new thing you discovered about him. You kept his love-filled words close to your heart, lingering there at times when you felt lost and perhaps even unloved. His penned words were beautiful yet poignant, hopeful yet deep which, you have eventually discovered reflected so much of Mammon himself. He often rebuffed your praises, perhaps shy of your careful observations. There would always be a blush there dusting his cheeks, colouring itself in deeper shades at every sneaky kiss. You always liked those nights when you talk about anything that pops out of your minds, and you thought he liked them too. But now, you were starting to feel doubt.

"Mammon, I didn't mean to--"

He turned away from you and covered his face with both of his hands. "This ai-- this won't…" he hesitated. "It will never work between us."

*beep!*

"Get on first. I'll catch up with ya."

"...okay."

How did it come to this?

💌💌💌

You didn't know how you were able to get home that night. You couldn't even remember the people you spoke to before you went back to your room. The side of your bed was empty of Mammon as well as your heart.

You didn't realise that you hurt him. You might have meant well and were even truthful of your affections for him, but the truth still laid there, mocking you in the face--you were idealising him. You thought you knew him by a few reads of the scented passages of his letter, that you refused to see him for who he really is. Oh, what a hypocrite you are.

His question continued to linger in your mind as you retrieved the said letter from your drawer. You didn't have the heart to read what it says anymore.

Why does it matter? It's all over.

Thinking in that vein, you sighted the gas lamp near your table and started entertaining darker thoughts.

Why not just forget about everything?

[ What will you do? ]

💌Burn the letter

💌Hesitate

💌masterlist

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once bitten, twice stupid prt.12

Dug up by Shiro, the hunter unburied his face. The ground was cold and damp, not regenerating or refreshing, but Lance stayed there out of sheer stubbornness. The image of Keith’s smug face drifted into his minds eye each time he thought about climbing out. Keeping his eyes closed, playing “dead” didn’t work

“Lance, I’m heading into Platt today”

Hurray! Good for Shiro!

“I’ll be leaving Keith here. He isn’t getting any better and I don’t know how long it’ll be before I can come back”

Nooooooo!

“Lance?”

“Error 404: Vampire not found”

Shiro growled

“This is serious!”

“Your call cannot be connected. Please check the number and try again”

“Lance!”

“Sorry, Lance isn’t home... whaaaa!”

Shiro ripped him upwards by his shirt front, Lance impressed he could pull him up with the weight of dirt across his body

“Why are you being like this?!”

Shiro didn’t need to be so cranky, he just needed to listen with his ears, which Lance was beginning to suspect were for display purposes only

“Because Keith isn’t a vampire”

“I don’t know why you refuse to believe the facts”

Him?! Him! He was the vampire here! He should know if he turned someone!

“Because you’re both stupid! Keith isn’t a vampire! I don’t know how many times I can tell you!”

“I don’t care what you have to do. Keep Keith safe”

“I don’t know if I can, I don’t have kiddy locks on the dangerous stuff”

“Lance. Please. Why are you being like this? Do you not remember what it’s like to love someone? Keith is my family. I’m asking you to guard my one and only brother. Please...”

Jesus. Shiro made him feel like a bag of shit. He’d told the man he wouldn’t be in such a craptastic mood, yet he kept losing his damn temper. If he was in Shiro’s place, he’d probably be an idiot too

“Okay, okay. I’m not going to let him get hurt. But if he hurts himself, that’s on him”

“I need you to stop him from doing that. He’s not in a good place right now. I’m not saying he’d do something intentionally, but I’m not saying he won’t. You don’t have to be his best friend, but maybe if you’re honest with him, he’ll listen”

“I’ve been honest with him... I’ve been so honest with him I had to bury myself to get a moments peace. I don’t think this going to end well”

“For your sake, I hope that it does”

*

Pretending he didn’t have a moping hunter in his guest bedroom, Lance showered before setting himself up in the office. Pidge had been blowing up their group trap, blaming him for the influx of memes she’d spammed the group with thanks to him not replying. Ensuring both his friends he was okay, he put his disappearance down to a cold, covering his arse by slipping in a little white lie about taking a trip to Platt to see a doctor and get the all clear. Seeing it was mostly truth and he wasn’t lying to hurt his friends, the niggle or guilt he felt was minimal. Keeping his replies short, Lance didn’t know what to say to Pidge anymore. The guilt he felt over Matt felt as if he was Atlas with the world upon his shoulders.

As Lance progressed to checking his emails, he found himself annoyed that Keith hadn’t been out to yell at him yet. He’d expected more from him. He’d expected to have a gun pulled on him again as he replied to email after email, confirming he was available to appear via tele-conference in a small time court case that was pretty much agreeing that both parents had signed off on shared custody of their children, and that he’d already submitted the paperwork to social services. He wasn’t charging the family as they’d both come to an amicable agreement and only sought him out to ensure things would run smoothly, after the dad had panicked thanks to a misunderstanding with social services. If only Keith could be as accomodating. Maybe if they could meet half way, all of this would be sorted out within the day, then he could go join Shiro. Having someone in his house was weird, especially when one would assume Keith was the vampire out of the pair of them. He had the sullen brood of pop culture down, as well as the good looks of a protagonist. Wait. Nope. Keith wasn’t that good looking... Great. Now he was having weird thoughts. Keith was nothing to him. He was less than nothing to Keith... he was simply feeling guilty because Shiro had asked him to take care of Keith.

Leaving his office, Lance walked down the hall to the guest bedroom. He summoned up his courage before knocking lightly on the door, not wanting to startle Keith, or wake him if he was sleeping. Getting no reply, Lance opened the door. Keith was sitting on his bed with his blade in his hands, eyes fixed on the weapon

“Uh... Keith?”

“What do you want?”

“I thought maybe you were hungry?”

“I am, but you won’t feed me properly”

“That’s because you’re still a human”

“I’m not! You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Having the last laugh at my expense”

“Keith, I’m not laughing at you”

“Then why won’t you teach me! Why won’t you let Shiro give up on me?!”

What now? That didn’t even make sense

“Keith, you’re the one who believes you’re not human! I keep telling you, you are”

“You can’t be trusted!”

“And you’re a dumbarse!”

“Fuck you! You made me a monster! A filthy bloodsucker like you!”

“I sucked on your gross blood and saved your life! Is it really so hard to believe a vampire could help a hunter?”

“It is when it’s scum like you!”

Lance snapped. Before Keith knew what was happening, Lance had snatched away his blade and thrown it across the room. With a snarl, he hoisted Keith up, throwing him over his shoulder

“Put me down!”

“No! Not until you get it through your head!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Not unless I kill you first”

Keith pounded his fists against Lance’s back as he tried to free himself. Marching out the bedroom and through to the front door, Lance threw it open. In less than second he’d reached the edge of the porch, where he threw Keith out in the sun

“Fucking stay out here until you get a hint!”

Keith curled into a ball, arms up to protect his face, screaming

“It’s burns!”

“The only thing that burns here is my cheeks in second hand embarrassment for you! Think about what you’ve done!”

“It hurts!”

“You’re a human! Huuuuuuu-man!”

Pulling his jacket tighter around him, Lance headed back into his house. He’d give Keith half an hour out there, time enough to work out he wasn’t burning to death, then let him back in. Sure, he could go around in the sun if he wanted, but Keith and Shiro didn’t know that. He was always bundled up layers thanks to fact he perpetually freezing. Maybe he should get his own, strip down to his boxers and go for a walk in the sun just to see their shocked faces? No, that would convince Keith further that he was a vampire.

It was a long half an hour wait, when Lance opened the door, Keith was under the doormat shaking. Grabbing his arm, he dragged the hunter inside

“Are you prepared to listen yet?”

“Just don’t put me out in the sun again...”

“The sun is good for you. It raises your mood and you get your daily dose of vitamin D. Human’s need the sun to keep healthy”

“I don’t want to die”

“You’re not going to”

“But I’m... one of you now”

Lance sighed deeply

“You’re not one of us”

“I am! My body...”

“It’s all in your head”

“It’s not!”

“That’s it. You’re going back out in the sun”

Hefting Keith up again, Lance carried him back outside again, dumping him further from the house this time

“Cool your fucking head down and think about everything that’s happened since you claimed I turned you. You got sick because you poisoned yourself. I got sick because I drank your gross arse blood to suck the fucking mercury out your system. You’re welcome, by the way. Not that I should be helping your stupid arse when you want me dead. You’re not allowed back in the house until you finally come to the conclusion you’re not a goddamn vampire on your own”

“I am! You turned me!”

Lance snapped. Grabbing Keith by the shirt, he snarled in his face

“If you were turned you’d know. You’d be screaming as your blood boiled from the inside. Clawing at your own skin, trying to feel any kind of pain that isn’t your insides bubbling. Begging for death as you piss yourself in the fear and confusion over what’s happening to you. It’s not fucking fun to be turned and it’s not a joke. It hurts. It hurts so bad you scream until your coughing up blood. Your sires holding your down as they poor blood down your throat, as the kick the shit out of you because they can, as the laugh in your face. And the nightmares. The nightmares feel so real, and you’re stuck. You can’t wake up. You can’t call for help. You’re stuck there, with every bad thing in the night that you can think of all taking a piece of you away. You haven’t been turned. I never let my blood get into your system. Don’t make me keep reliving the worst day of my fucking life!”

Dropping Keith, Lance stumbled back, yelling

“Fuck!”

Kicking the doorframe only served to hurt his toes. His hands going to his hair where he gripped firmly. Keith was looking at him... with such... god, he didn’t even know what the expression Keith was wearing was

“Lance...?”

“Just... stay away from me”

*

Shiro had left on foot. Lance unloading his car as he tried to find a way back to keeping a calm head. He’d lost his shit at Keith. Completely and totally like some kind of freak. God. Why was Keith under his skin? He was hopeless, thick, and hot headed. He didn’t understand him, and he didn’t understand why Shiro had left him in his care. That wasn’t normal. Not that Shiro and Keith seemed normal when it came to hunters.

Carting everything to the back of his house, the job was done too fast as he’d neglected to put his glasses back on after scrubbing himself squeaky clean, meaning he wasn’t keeping that side of himself consciously in check. Dirt naps were horrendous for his bathroom’s plumbing. His skin was screaming out for some TLC, he’d cleanse and tone tonight with a nice mug of warm blood and mindless cartoons. First thing first came retrieving his shovel from his shallow grave, the same fucking dandelion that’d ended up on top of the dirt mound now lay on the pavers mocking him, Shiro had left damn boot prints everywhere. His house wasn’t the greatest, but he didn’t need others making it look like a hovel.

Working himself into a sweat, Lance weeded the garden beds within an inch of his life. The manual labour felt good, his arm didn’t hurt at all, so he didn’t feel bad about disobeying Allura’s orders. As the sun was lowering, Lance felt eyes on his back, flicking his gaze over his shoulder, Keith stood in the doorway, arms crossed and grumpy expression on his face

“If it isn’t the vampire wannabe. What did I do wrong this time?”

“I want to fight you”

Lance looked back to his pansies. They hadn’t appreciated being left in the car overnight. The poor things didn’t look like they wanted to perk back up

“Pass”

“You say I’m not a vampire, but something’s changed in my body. I want to fight you”

“Nope. I’m good. If you want to start sweeping up, I wouldn’t say no to that”

“Fucking fight me!”

Lance closed his eyes, starting to hum

“Don’t ignore me!”

Humming louder, Keith didn’t take too kindly to it. Striding over, he grabbed Lance by the back of his jacket and yanked him back to

“Oi! Hands off the merchandise!”

“Fight me!”

He might as well humour him. Keith had limited brain cells as it was, the mercury wouldn’t have helped that

“Why?”

“Because I can’t understand you!”

“Stop yelling at me! You don’t need to yell, I can hear you even if I don’t want to”

“You’ve done something to me, and I need to know what it is!”

“I’ve saved your damn life. Despite my own best interests. I tried to be a good host and you ruined my fucking life for it. I’d rather just sit here and play in my garden”

“Either you fight me, or I’ll kill you”

Lance couldn’t hide the smirk in his voice

“That worked so well for you last time”

Keith kicked him hard in the top of Lance’s leg

“Fight me!”

“No”

“Fight me!”

“Nope”

“I’ll tell Shiro”

Lance gaped

“How old are you? Is this your usual shtick? Running to Shiro. He’s worried as hell about you. He’s exhausting every resource he can to help you”

“You’re the one who turned me, you have to help me”

“The only thing I’ve done is apparently turn you into an idiot!”

“Fight me and I’ll drop it”

Lance jerked back as he pulled a face

“What kind of logic is that?”

“If I’m not as strong and fast as you I’ll know one way or another”

“Can’t we be civil and talk this over, over a nice hot cup of tea”

“Fight me!”

God. This wasn’t going to end well

“Fine. Just let me wash my hands first, and put the sprinklers on these poor babies”

“Fine!”

Keith had gone all out, mask and everything as they stood on the back lawn. Both blades were in his hands, gun on his belt like he’d actually have time for it if Lance was fighting for real

“How is this going to work?”

“It’s over once I drop your sorry arse!”

Lance was sorely tempted to drop his own sorry arse on the lawn and take a nap

“And if you don’t?”

“Then, I don’t know. Stop trying to put me off!”

“If you don’t win, you have to eat whatever I cook tonight. That’s the deal”

“Fine! Whatever! Come at me!”

It may have been slightly insulting to walk up to Keith. Flicking him in the forehead sent Keith’s face red

“Don’t underestimate me!”

Damn if this man didn’t like yelling. Leaping back nimbly, Lance faked enough to drop his stance like this was actually going to be anything more than Keith making a fool of himself

“Come get me then”

Keith charged, Lance dodging every blow sent his way. The man fought without restraint, eyes narrowed as he tried to predict Lance’s moves, constantly on the offence yet trying to throw up his defence at the same time. Keith had some skill... which was probably okay when he was teamed with others, alone... well, he needed longer to develop those skills if he hoped to become a seasoned hunter. Giving him a few minutes of his time, Lance ended their first fight by taking Keith by the arm and throwing him down over his shoulder. Laying there with his chest heaving, Keith looked royally pissed

“Score one for me. I hope you like steak, I’m in the mood for a nice steak dinner”

“Again!”

“What?”

“Fight me again”

“Look, that wasn’t the agreement. Now go wash up for dinner”

“Just fight me again”

“Tomorrow, if we really have to. You’re still recovering from the last dumb thing you did”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a little kid! I can take it!”

“Part of being an adult is knowing your own limits. You won’t get any better if you keep throwing yourself into an attack. Look, to be frank, right now I’m wondering how you ended up as a hunter. This isn’t an easy life, you’re...”

“Stop talking like you know everything! Fight me”

“Keith...”

What was he supposed to do with a hunter? Keith wasn’t his child. He was a grown man. Who’d failed the first mission he led. His ego probably wouldn’t let him accept a simple defeat

“... tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll help you with your training. Just so you know, I’ve never been much for fighting. I’ve got a work call that I absolutely have to make, but, tomorrow I will make time to help you”

“I don’t need help, I need to fight”

“Shiro said to take care of you, letting you work yourself to point of collapse isn’t going to bring him back any faster, or make you feel any better”

“You don’t get it...”

“You’re right, I have no idea what’s going on with that brain cell rocketing around your mulletted head. But before you start screaming at me again, I think you need to sit down and have a good hard think about your actions. The bathrooms on a seperate water in supply. We’ll both get cleaned up, then you’re having dinner because that was the deal”

“Fuck you! I don’t need your charity!”

“Then you get your bony arse out my house”

Why he’d volunteered himself to help Keith was beyond Lance. The man hated him, so why bother? Stupid Keith and his stupid mullet needed to cool off and clean himself up. Lance prayed to god that Keith finally got the message that he wasn’t a damn vampire.

[seasonofthegeek]

Sacrifice of Three, Part 1

The lovely @miraculouspaon requested another part of this drabble through ko-fi and I decided to use that story as inspiration for the expanded universe because I feel like it would be such a fun AU to play in with more detail. So this is taking it to the beginning of the story and working to the part in the drabble and beyond. :D

___

“I don’t understand why I continue to receive these meeting invitations. I’m not part of a Fae court; there’s no reason for me to attend a Winter Solstice conference of the supernatural community.” Gabriel dropped the leaflet of cardstock into his assistant’s desk in tray. “Please confirm my absence. Perhaps one of these days those ancient monsters will stop bothering me.”

Nathalie slid the invitation out of her tray with a curt nod. “Very well, sir. I will have to ask that I be excused for the event though. I was chosen as the representative for my pack.”

“You don’t even get along with your pack.”

She shrugged. “I suppose I could fight another member to pass on the invitation but I’d rather not.”

“It’s barbaric.”

“There are only two werewolf packs in the city and the one I chose is the less aggressive of the two. It’s better than the alternative.”

“If you say so.”

“Not all of us can pretend to be human all the time,” she replied, tone even. She ignored the glare cast in her direction as she began to work on his invitation decline. “If I hadn’t sought out one of the packs after I turned, they would’ve come after me eventually. Better to have a choice.”

“Better to be left alone entirely.”

“If that’s an option, which it wasn’t.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw until it made a tight ticking sound. “Fine. I’ll accept the invitation.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Perhaps if I attend, they will stop harassing me.” He turned away from her desk to return to his.

“I wouldn’t call sending an invitation to events a few times a year harassment, but we all have our burdens to bear,” Nathalie replied dryly. “Why the change of heart?”

He stiffened. “If we’re there together, perhaps we won’t lose an entire week of work.”

“Ah, yes. I was hoping I wouldn’t be allowed a vacation.” Nathalie kept her face blank, fighting against the smile she could feel tugging at her lips. “They’ll ask what court you’re representing upon accepting.”

Gabriel sighed and looked back at the large painting of his deceased wife. The portrait had been done in shades of green and gold and had managed to catch  a fraction of the beauty of the sun nymph who’d shined down on him for a short time. “The Summer Court, I suppose, though I never really felt right there.”

“It’s possible you’ll be asked about Adrien,” she warned him, pausing in her work.

He turned away from the portrait. “And I’ll tell them he died with his mother.”

“You think it’s wise to lie? Anyone could come here and find him.”

“Then I’ll have to make sure to seem as human and uninteresting as possible, won’t I?” He gave her a wry smile. “Changelings barely register on the supernatural scale. I’m sure my continued requests for attendance are about my son and what he can do for the courts, but I have no intentions of allowing him into that life. Perhaps they’ll be led to believe he takes after me.”

“Anyone who saw him would know that isn’t true.”

“Mmm, well, there’s a reason he stays here most of the time.”

Nathalie shook her head, unsure if Gabriel actually believed his son stayed put in their large home or if he was simply in denial of Adrien’s frequents nighttime walkabouts. “Of course, sir.”

___

Jagged leaned back with a content sigh and licked his blood-stained lips. “Penny, love, you’re as exquisite as ever.”

“And you’re as greedy as ever.” She stood and went to the vanity, shuffling through the mess on the counter to find a clean bandage. “I’m going to have to take a nap at some point to get some energy back.”

“I’ll keep you company, pet. I’d love to have someone pretty and warm like you in my bed.”

Penny laughed as she smoothed the bandage over the wound in her neck. “I’m sure you would, but I’ve got other things to do today.”

He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “But I’ll be lonely.”

“Somehow I think you’ll survive. Have you decided about the meeting yet?”

“Didn’t wanna go the first time you asked and haven’t changed my mind.” He let his arm fall languidly off the couch and felt rough scales under his palm. “There’s my good boy. Who’s my favorite dragon?”

“He’s not a dragon.”

“Don’t listen to Penny, mate. She’s all cranky due to blood loss,” Jagged soothed, scratching along the crocodile’s back. 

“If you say no to this meeting, you’ll have to go to the next one. Winter Solstice doesn’t sound too bad anyway. And the cabin looks nice.”

“Ah, a cabin. A house made entirely of wood. Exactly the kind of place a vampire wants to find himself in when a bunch of other supes are hanging out and plotting.”

“Stop being a baby.” Penny turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “Are you going or not? You know Arkana will give you hell if she has to go this time too. It will be her third one in a row.”

“Why do they keep requesting us anyway? Our nest isn’t even that big. Why not the uppity vampires near the center of the city?”

“They might be there too. You’re hardly a good representation of the species.”

“I think you used to be nicer,” Jagged pouted. “I should’ve left you as a naive human out in the world.”

“I’m still a human out in the world,” she winked. “Just not nearly as naive. So is that a yes?”

He groaned and Fang made a chuffing sound by his side. “Fine, yes.”

___

“Oi, you lot notice we’re still the only ones here?” Jagged leaned in the doorway of the study and crossed his arms. “This shindig was supposed to start over an hour ago. Where’s everyone else?”

Nathalie looked up from her laptop and blinked. “No one else has arrived?”

“Nah. I’ve been roaming around this place like I’m haunting it and there’s not hide nor hair of anyone. Something doesn’t smell right.” He watched the werewolf sniff gingerly at the air and couldn’t help the wide smile that crossed his face. “Didn’t mean literally, pet.”

She glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”

Gabriel set his own laptop on the coffee table and went to the window. “There is quite a bit of snow. Perhaps it’s slowing the others down.”

“All of them? Seems a little ‘spicious, don’tcha think?”

“Is it getting heavier?” Nathalie joined them by the window and hugged herself. “I believe that’s sleet. I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere ourselves for a while.”

“This day and age and not a phone number or email to be found between us to reach anyone, is there? You ever wonder why the powers that be insist on keeping things so old school?”

“It wouldn’t help even if we had contacts. There’s no service up here. Gabriel and I have been working on a portable backup drive we brought ourselves.”

“Aren’t you two just the ambitious little duo?”

Gabriel ignored the other man’s remark as he stared out the window. “Well, this is certain to cause us trouble. Jagged, I think it would be best if you retreat to one of the guest rooms. I can lock you in for your own safety.”

The vampire visibly bristled as he leaned against the wall. “I’m not an animal, mate. Believe it or not, I can survive being snowed in with you two without ripping your throats out.” He flashed a wide smile that showcased two delicate fangs. “Might be fun though. Besides, if you’re going to lock me up, you should lock up your sweet lil pup too.”

Nathalie scowled at him. “It’s not even close to the full moon. I’m in no danger of transforming here.”

“Wonder if there’s an old tale about this somewhere. A vampire, a werewolf, and a changeling snowed in late at night in the middle of nowhere…” Jagged chuckled to himself. “Who will survive, who will thrive, who will take an eternal dive….”

Gabriel turned away from the window and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up in agitation. “Please don’t call me that.”

“S’whatcha are, Gabe. Wee little Fae babe who was left to be raised by humans ‘cause he couldn’t cut it in the courts. Nothing to be ashamed of. You got that pretty bride of yours due to your heritage and all. Worked out, didn’t it?”

“Don’t speak of things you don’t understand,” Gabriel warned with a growl.

“Oh, I understand,” Jagged replied with an easy grin. “I met her before you, ya know. Wouldn’t have worked out what with her being one with the sun but she was pretty enough for it to be tempting--”

Nathalie stepped between the men with a put upon sigh. “Since we don’t know how long we’re going to be here, perhaps it would be wise to take stock of our supplies instead of being immature brats. Jagged, did you bring any bagged blood with you?”

“Don’t drink the stuff, pet. I like my blood alive. Besides, usually they have willing donors at these things. Vamps aren’t the only ones who like blood and this was supposed to be a big meeting of the supernatural minds for the Winter Solstice and all that.”

“In other words, you’re unprepared.” She turned to Gabriel. “Do you think we can expect any of the others to make it here before things get too bad?”

“I think they’ve already gone bad unfortunately. I don’t believe anyone could make it in a storm like this. We should’ve left earlier before we got stuck here ourselves.”

Jagged pushed away from the wall. “Well, as much fun as it would be to watch you two moan and groan about our predicament the rest of the night, the cold doesn’t much bother me so I think I’ll be off.”

Nathalie snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

“Course I am. Not all warm blooded like you lot. I can walk right out of here.”

“You’d freeze,” she replied incredulously. “You wouldn’t make it to the nearest town before you froze in place and then the sun would catch you when it finally rose again. Even you have limitations.”

“Let him go. It’d make the stay much more pleasant,” Gabriel remarked. “Would you like to go see what the food situation is like? It’d be best to settle that early.”

“That sounds reasonable,” she agreed, following him towards the kitchen.

“I mean it. I’m leaving,” Jagged called after them. “Not waiting around.” He growled under his breath when he received no reply. He could leave. He could walk right out the door, but Nathalie was probably right. He didn’t have a clue where he was going and if the ground was frozen over, he’d have a hard time burying himself deep enough to keep safe from the rising sun. 

He grumbled to himself and dropped down on one of the couches. Flames licked the bricks of the fireplace and he watched them until he fell into a peaceful trance, letting his body shut down little by little to conserve energy. While it was fun to tease Gabriel and Nathalie, the worry that they might be there longer than anticipate nagged at the back of his mind. Better not to waste any energy he could hold onto for the time being. 

___

“The bread’s gone stale.” Nathalie stared at her sandwich before taking another bite.

“There isn’t much more to put on it anyway. This was probably the last day we could do sandwiches.” Gabriel bit into his reluctantly and chewed as he reached for a book on the coffee table. “We can probably use the last pieces with some of the soup.”

“Cold soup and stale bread; I feel spoiled.”

“Things must be bad if you’re talking like that.”

“Losing the electricity’s made me cranky,” Nathalie said in way of apology. “I know we’re all making sacrifices.”

“At least you two get to eat,” Jagged whined, draping himself across the couch. “I’m starving. I’ve got bags under my eyes and my skin’s looking all waxy. I hate when my skin looks waxy. Haven’t looked this rough in decades.”

“Perhaps you should’ve left when you threatened to.” Gabriel didn’t look up from his book. “You know where the door is.”

“I can’t go out in this state. I wouldn’t make it to the end of the driveway. This storm’s unnatural. There’s a warlock or something behind it, mark my words.”

“I’ve been wondering about that actually.” Nathalie set her plate down and went to the wall of bookshelves, looking over the titles. “It might not be an accident we’re the only ones stuck here.”

Gabriel closed his book and looked to her across the room. “You really believe someone targeted the three of us?”

“I don’t know why they would. We’re only representatives, not even important members of our groups, but it’s just a feeling.”

“Why’d you have to go and bring that up?” Jagged groaned. “You’ve gone and made me think and now my head hurts.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “See what you can find in those books about the Sacrifice of Three for the Solstice. I can’t believe I’m even considering that being a possibility. And keep it down; I need a nap.”

“Wait, what do you mean the Sacrifice of Three?”

The vampire didn’t reply as his body fell into a chilling stillness.

“He’s been doing that a lot the past day or so,” Nathalie remarked, keeping her voice low. She turned away from the sight and went back to the books. “It can’t be good.”

“He’s trying to conserve his energy, but I agree. We need to keep an eye on him. I don’t think it’d be wise for either of us to be alone with him at any time.” Gabriel set his own plate down and joined her by the bookshelves. “I’ll help you look while there’s still daylight.”

She cast another wary glance at the still vampire. “What if he loses control?”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Not if?”

He didn’t respond, instead pulling a book of the shelf to thumb through it.

“What if we’re still here when the full moon hits?” she asked, voice quieter.

“We’ll deal with that as well.”

“I’d kill you both. I can’t control it.”

“Then we better look for a way to get out of here, hmm?” He met her eyes and they shared a look of understanding before she nodded and they continued their search.

Buy me a cherry coke?

[cardboardboxcomplex]

ok since i’m awake and useless, might as well

it’s 4AM on a monday at this point and i do *not* want to go to work. but i have to hhrghshfd HAAAAAA ok breathe . i skipped last week’s shift that i was supposed to go to the lab. i completely disappeared for the *third* time during my two-week wfh shift before that. when we were supposed to do the third quarter report, and the proposal. which are the hardest reports to do, bc they’ll be the basis for renewal next year. but i just ... disappeared again and did not open my emails or messages. again. after i did that twice before. and i had to go through the process of like apologizing to everyone for my absence, and i even decided to tell everyone that i have depression cos i dont know how to explain it ! why am i like this ! and i know it’s not an excuse, and i told them that too. but i just hate everything . okay i think im getting to word dump now. how many times am i going to be so incapable and incompetent? i hate myself so much cos my brain is so fried and i dont want to deal with anything . when was the last time i actually thought deeply or whatever or like read a journal article. and i dont even know what im supposed to be doing anymore.  i feel so sad. oh im crying ok. like im thinking of myself and how do i go on with life, what am i supposed to be doing, what kind of path should i be making. i hate this because i lost years of my life and i keep losing more time. and omfg right the paper. man i didnt even reply to sir’s emails either, and i know ate yana and josh had talked and i was supposed to be there too because im supposed to be the main one to finish her thesis for publication, and it’s already been a year? since she left the lab. had i done anything? i did not

and tomorrow is nov 10, and im supposed to do thesis updates ......... how the fuck am i gonna do that. and i had already missed the first time i was scheduled, bc well the same thing happening now. i was wfh (supposedly) and ate isay had to say my internet connection isnt stable. which wasnt a lie, but it was bc i didn’t do anything. i dont know what im supposed to come up with tomorrow. or if i can postpone it again. SEE THIS IS EXACTLY IT HOW MANY TIMES AM I GONG TO BE INCAPABLE AND INCOMPETENT

i dont know like im scared of being in the lab too and all i wanna do is stay in my room 

but you know what i dont even like my room. i miss my old room, i miss all my books, i miss all the memories i left there as in the physical things i’ve kept because i keep everything. full on bawling now. i miss having everything i’ve kept near me, with me. i miss my desk, i miss having one. and i hate my room because i haven’t cleaned my room in MONTHS. idk since march, since quarantine started? i can barely see the floor and i have to walk around all the bags with all stuff thrown in them. and honestly im just desensitizing (?) myself bc if i think too much if i look too closely im gonna throw up and i hate it i hate it . on that note i’ve been thinking i might in a constant state of dissociation, or at least a shallow one? i never thought i really dissociated bc i didnt really get the feeling of being apart from your body. but because it’s been going on for so long it didn’t even register to me that i’m dissociating because it feels normal or the baseline. and my memory recall is so bad, i don’t remember what happened the previous day. why? because i’m not even doing anything. or idk. also my attention span is non-existent. but the memory thing bothers me because i dont even know if i remember things from before before, in the past, not recently

before i forgot about the room, i was supposed to have pest control last oct 20? and it was scheduled like first week of october so i knew it was coming. but did i clean my room? in those weeks between? i didnt. i’d been putting it off exactly because my room is a mess and id ont want anyone to come in like this. so i had to postpone that too, and the next one is tomorrow. did i clean my room since then? no. what have i been doing? i dont know either. literally rotting away. and i feel so bad cos i m not even doing anything. i dont even know what. i cant get myself to do anything

what if someone helps me clean? i don’t want anyone to help me clean because i dont want anyone to see my room. ate isay was supposed to help me on that sunday or monday before oct 20 but the plan was i was going to start cleaning saturday so at least if she comes up to help, it wouldnt be so disgusting. but yeah i did not clean. and now it’s november. you know the last time i ironed my clothes? september. last year. september 1, 2019. i remember because that was jungkook’s birthday, but also i was ironing when i got the messages from someone when they were leaving me and didnt want (?) to be friends with me anymore. and that broke me really bad. but not the point rn. 

i dont know what else im thinking. oh i miss my friends. kosestream, if you’re reading this, yes i’m thinking of you too, and i’m really sorry. im so sorry ive kept disappearing on you guys for months. i’ve missed you and so many parts of your life, and im really really i wasnt there. and bc i don’t talk with you often, and with my awful memory, i also forget what’s been going on and it makes me feel awful because like i miss all these things about you? i always thought that i had kept tabs on everyone well, paying attention to what you’re doing, ask how things are with you, and now i dont. and im sorry. i always miss you so much, and i love you, and i dont know if that still means anything to you, but it’s still there. so thank you for inviting me to play among us, i liked hearing your voices. and i know you were worried about me (if im wrong this is embarrassing please ignore this) and were trying to cheer me up / offering your support/presence/love/shoulder/hug idk. so thank you. it meant a lot to me (but im sorry my internet was awful. honestly that stressed me out so much and i was gonna give up because i felt annoying and like a huge bother) but okay thank you 

and it’s the same with irl friends, missing things. i thought of it once as everything passing (by) me. like when neos had left for germany, i wasnt there. why? because i was rotting away at home doing nothing. i didnt even get to say goodbye. and just the same with everyone, i havent been talking with anyone. there are so many messages i’ve gotten i haven’t (didn’t) replied to, and it’s like god how are they. 

what else. ah there’s another thing i’ve thought of. but idk i’ll write that next time 

it’s monday, and it’s almost 5am now, i’m supposed to go to work. i have to text ate isay if she’s gonna pass by and pick me up. but i havent slept because i completely fucked up my sleeping schedule. and my room is still a mess. no i did not even try cleaning it even though i had been thinking about it literally every single day. should i just not sleep or should i try getting like an hour of sleep , and hope i wake up (actually, would love to not wake up, ever)

09 Nov 2020, M, 05:02 BTS – Butterfly (Alternative Mix) 

[bangtanstanst]

Thunderstruck

When you and Namjoon stay late at the office, you just expect to get home a little later than usual. But when you finally leave for the night and step into the elevator, you set out on a different trip entirely.

“Just be careful out there, weird things happen in thunderstorms.”

A fic crossover event in which the Bangtan Unsolved crew meets office workers Namjoon and Y/N! But don’t worry, you can still definitely follow the whole story if you haven’t read either of them :)

≽ pairing: namjoon x reader, ft. the rest of ot7 ≽ genre: fluff, angst, (attempts at) horror ≽ warnings: paranormal stuff, mentions of death ≽ word count: 8.4k

a/n: hiiiiii, I hope you’re all having a good week!! As you may or may not know, my blog’s one-year anniversary was on the 7th of July and I wanted to celebrate it with a fic; so here it is!! I’m really excited to share it with you all, and I hope you like it :)) As I said, you don’t have to have read the fics that cross over in this, but I’ll link them anyway if you want to do it before or after :) Thanks so much for making this year so great and for reading my works, I appreciate it so very much and I hope to continue sharing more with you for a long time :))

And, of course, thanks to my amazing friends mars & snail for helping me out by betaing this and being wonderful people in general!!♥♥♥

›› tag list: @nambewb @dimplemono @sugasheart @csol16 @joon94net @lilacdreams-00 ‹‹

bangtan unsolved | only you | masterlist

You jump when a clap of thunder rings in your ears and makes the entire office floor flash with white. Rain is aggressively battering the large windows that surround the desks and the sky is dark and grey, an endless sea of thick rain clouds hanging over the city’s skyscrapers. Nervously tapping your foot against the carpeted floor, you cross your arms and turn to glance at Namjoon. He doesn’t seem to notice much of whatever’s happening outside, his eyes glazed over as they stare at the screen and his fingers fly over the keyboard.

Turning your gaze to the desk you’re sitting at yourself, you glare at the monitor, eyes idly scanning the spreadsheet but not quite registering anything that’s in it. You shift in your chair – it’s uncomfortable, but you’re scared to adjust anything to it, lest you piss off the guy whose desk you’ve planted at while you’re waiting for Namjoon to finish up his work.

“Hey, guys, I’m gonna get going, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jimin says, his briefcase swinging around in his hand as he walks up to your desks.

Your gaze snaps up to look at him and you send him a smile. “Of course!” you reply, standing up to quickly hug him goodbye. Another bout of thunder hits the streets outside and you jump yet again. “Walk safe, okay?”

Jimin just laughs as you break apart, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll be sure not to drown in the subway,” he replies, holding out his hand to Namjoon, who absently claps it and gives him a half-hearted hug. “You just make sure to pull this one away from his work before midnight, yeah?” he adds with a grin as he pulls back, pointing at Namjoon.

You snort. “What, or the gremlin in him is gonna jump out?” you retort, dishevelling your boyfriend’s hair until he laughs and takes your hand to push it away.

“Yes,” Jimin replies very seriously, frowning as his eyes flicker from Namjoon back to you. “You’ve never seen it?” When you laugh once more and shake your head, he shrugs. “Well, I guess you just don’t know him as well as I do, then,” he teases through a long sigh, patting Namjoon’s shoulder.

You let out another laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jimin,” you tell him rather than responding, sitting back down in your chair. More thunder rumbles through the night sky and your smile falters, your eyes snapping to the office windows.

“See ya,” Jimin replies, his hand folding over your shoulder. “And at least, if you and Namjoon die because of this storm, you’ll go down together.”

“Ha ha,” you say dryly, narrowing your eyes at him, despite the fact that you don’t really doubt the possibility of that happening. “You know, maybe you should stay after all.” Tilting your head at him, you raise an eyebrow. “Die with us.”

Jimin just chuckles, taking a step back and sauntering towards the elevators. “Bye, guys!”

With a huff, you sit back in your chair and cross your arms, watching as he turns the corner and listening to the elevator doors opening and closing. You’re the only two left in the office now, and it’s awfully silent in here. You look back at the monitor on your temporary desk, the Excel sheet it’s displaying glaring right into your soul – but the numbers are blurry when you try to look at them and you know you’ve long surpassed the timeframe of Y/N’s brain is able to work.

Letting out a sigh, you quickly save your work and log out, shutting off the desktop. “Can we go soon, Joon?” you mutter, rolling your chair over to his desk and leaning your chin on his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. “I’d rather die at home than at the office.”

He chuckles. “Of course, baby,” he mutters lowly, pressing a warm kiss to your temple. The thunder and lightning fade to the background as you focus on his touch, and a small smile teases over your lips. “I just need to send out these emails and I’m done.”

You hum, sliding both your arms around his torso and hugging him tightly as he types. His hand leaves the keyboard for short moments here and there, his fingers absently brushing your arm or your hand, moving up to play with your hair or tickle your cheek. Minutes pass and you seem to lose track of time, though your mind can’t help but focus on the rain, the thunder, the lightning flashing outside, and you remain tense no matter what you do.

“Namjoon…” you mutter after what feels like plenty of time to send out a few emails, and he hums in reply. “How many emails were you talking about, exactly?”

“I’m done, I’m done,” he says through a soft chuckle, running a hand through your hair as your eyes pop open and you jump up – another burst of light illuminates the office floor. “Ready to go, I take it?”

You laugh, nodding fervently. “Oh, yes,” you reply, holding out your hand for Namjoon to take. “So please, before we die?” you add, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He laughs, briefly turning back to his desktop to turn off his computer, then taking your hand and rising to his feet. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he mumbles, taking a step towards you to peck your lips.

You can’t help but smile at him as he pulls back. “Right.” A burst of thunder rings in your ears, but you don’t jump this time.

Namjoon is wearing a fond smile and stays in his place for a moment, even as you take another step back and tug at his arm. “You okay, there?” you ask, chuckling in amusement.

His smile just widens and he nods as he takes a step forward, intertwining your fingers with his. “Definitely,” he replies, glancing down at your hands for a second before lifting his eyes to yours once more. “Hey, I love you, you know that, right?”

Another amused chuckle escapes your lips, but that laughter soon fades as his eyes catch yours – there’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes you suspect there’s more behind his words than he’s letting on, but you don’t feel you should ask. “And I love you, Joon,” you reply instead, upon which he grins and kisses you briefly. Thunder and lightning continue to rage outside, and you let out a shaky breath as you pull back, looking up at Namjoon. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here, yeah?”

He laughs, nodding as he steps back to grab his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s.”

You let out a happy sigh, turning to walk back to the elevators and pulling Namjoon with you before he can decide to send another ‘few’ emails. Your footsteps are drowned out by the thunderstorm outside – but otherwise, silence cloaks the entire office, all of your coworkers having gone home before the storm even started.

“Hey, Al,” Namjoon says from behind you and you’re confused for a moment, looking around to look for whomever he’s talking to – when you see the janitor cleaning the kitchenette counter in the breakroom, and you almost squeal when a loud clap of thunder echoes in your ears, a burst of bright light illuminating the figure in the room. Fortunately, you manage to hold it back, and you just paste on a smile as you wave back at Al.

“You kids staying late again?” he asks, and you’re practically forced to come to a halt so you can talk to him.

Namjoon squeezes your hand, running his thumb over the back of it – it’ll be fine, we’ll get home before death gets to us. “Yeah, work never stops, right?” he jokes.

Al laughs and nods, gesturing to the break room around him. “‘specially when you’re cleaning stuff, eh?”

“I’ll certainly give you that,” Namjoon returns with a smile. “I hope we kept the room clean for you, though?”

“Oh, couldn’t wish for a neater floor,” Al replies with a smile and a wave. “You should see the fifteenth.”

Al’s eyes catch yours and you clear your throat, suddenly feeling nervous with the way he’s looking between you and Namjoon – almost worried. An involuntary shiver runs down your spine and you frown, blinking at Al, who just keeps intently staring at you. There’s a strange, unsettling feeling in your gut and the air feels heavy all of a sudden. Wait, were you actually right? Are you really gonna die here in this office?

Trying to push through the weird feeling, you clear your throat, unable to tear your eyes away from Al’s. “Well, we’ll leave you to it, then,” you say cautiously, nerves rushing through your veins as a beat of silence falls and you wait for Al’s answer.

But in a split second, it’s as if a spell is lifted, and Al’s expression returns to his usual smile. “Right on,” he replies, picking up his cleaning rag. “Just be careful out there, weird things happen in thunderstorms,” he adds just before you step out of sight, and the look he gives you is so piercing and intense that you can’t help but stop and stare, lips parting. “Bye, kids!”

With that, he turns back to the counter and starts wiping it vigorously, leaving both you and Namjoon gaping at him for a moment. “Bye,” you reply, dazed – but Al doesn’t look up nor respond. Your eyebrows furrow and you look up at Namjoon, who has the same level of confusion etched into his features as yours as he shrugs at you.

“Good luck on the fifteenth floor,” he says, eyes diverting back to Al. Yet again, he doesn’t look up, simply waving at you as you slowly start to walk to the elevators.

“What’s wrong with Al?” you whisper as you come to a stop at the elevators, hitting the button to summon one of them. The sound of rain and thunder has faded slightly now that you’re further away from the windows, but a low rumble still booms in your ears every so often.

Namjoon hums and shakes his head, looking over his shoulder into the direction of the break room. “I don’t know, he’s never acted this weird before,” he mumbles in reply, the elevator doors jumping open with a harsh ding! – your heart skips a beat and you let out a breath. “Maybe he’s just tired.”

You hum and nod, pulling Namjoon into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor and leaning against the wall. Namjoon looks down at his feet as you ride the elevator down, tapping them against the floor rapidly. You tilt your head at him, eyebrows furrowing, and you squeeze his hand to grab his attention – he looks up.

“You okay?”

He exhales sharply and nods, his shoulders relaxing at once. It’s relieving to see the stress seem to flow out of him so quickly, though you’re still curious as to what got him nervous in the first place. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replies, nodding once more. He looks down at your hands and smiles softly as he plays with your fingers, his free hand dug into his pocket. “I just –”

A sudden boom of thunder interrupts him and you jolt out of the conversation, looking around with wide eyes – it sounded way too close to be safe. Ears starting to ring, your lips part as the elevator starts to actually shake underneath your feet, and you stumble into Namjoon’s arms. Your heart drops into your stomach as the shaking grows wilder, and you close your eyes, grabbing a fistful of the fabric of Namjoon’s button-up as you try not to literally start screaming into his chest. You feel a strange sensation in your gut, as if you’re falling down the elevator shaft floor after floor after floor without ever coming to a stop, likely only nearing the inevitable end.

Okay, so you are gonna die tonight and there’s literally nothing you can do about it, though at least you’re with Namjoon for it all and – 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Namjoon whispers, putting a hand on your back – but you can feel his fingers trembling against your spine as well, and his words don’t quite get through to you. “We’re gonna be fine.”

Just as the last word leaves his mouth, the shaking stops, and the elevator goes completely silent. Completely. You look up at Namjoon, your grip loosening around his blue button-up as the two of you exchange wide-eyed looks. Are you stuck here now? Are you gonna have to wait here all night without food or water or enough oxygen? Fuck, how are you gonna –

Ding!

You jump and look to the side, where the elevator doors have jumped open to what is definitely not the ground floor. The space is empty as far as you can see, your sight blocked by the dirty plastic sheets hanging from the ceiling. Faint moonlight breaks through them and illuminates the few support beams you can see, and it’s as silent as your own office floor was when you left it, only the sound of rain beating against glass echoing through the large space.

“Let’s just take the stairs,” Namjoon proposes in one exhale, his grip around your hand tightening subtly. As his voice echoes off the concrete surroundings countless times, he nervously fumbles with the shoulder strap of his bag, adjusting and readjusting it.

You nod hastily, straightening out your blouse with your free hand and rushing to step out of the elevator before the door somehow closes on you and you might get stuck forever. Namjoon is walking right behind you, your footsteps echoing off the concrete surroundings. “Where are the stairs around here, again?”

“They should be in the same spot as they are on our floor,” he replies, looking around and slapping a sheet out of his face when he almost runs into it. It rustles with the movement, even the soft sound echoing harshly throughout the floor. “So I think it’s right –”

“Y/N? Namjoon?”

You whirl around at the strange voice ringing in your ears, your eyes darting around. For a moment, you don’t see anyone, only hearing footsteps – when suddenly, someone pushes a plastic sheet out of the way, and an entire camera crew steps out from behind it. They’re only a few steps away from you but you can barely see them, and you have to squint to not be blinded by the bright lights shining into your eyes.

Namjoon, however, seems to have more luck in seeing who the hell you’ve run into here. “Jimin? What are you doing here?”

The lights and cameras lower slightly, allowing you to finally see beyond an arm’s length. A group of six has gathered in front of you, all looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. Two cameras are now pointed at the floor, the beam of a bright flashlight pointed at your feet. One guy has a harness around his waist, a selfie stick with a Go-Pro fastened to it, pointing at his face from what seems to be the least flattering angle that could ever be. He’s frowning at the two of you, his eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing here’?” sounds the reply, and your eyes snap over to the source of the voice. It’s undoubtedly your desk buddy, and you almost feel relieved to see him – but the confusion etched into Jimin’s features makes you wary more than anything. “You were up on this floor for almost thirty minutes so we went to get you.”

“What?” you and Namjoon breathe out simultaneously – you can feel your heart starting to beat faster. “Is this some sort of prank?” you add, eyes wide as they glide over the crew standing in front of you.

The relieving answer you were hoping for doesn’t come, however, and no one breaks out in laughter like you’d hoped – there’s just a stunned silence hanging over you.

“Weren’t you supposed to wait in the lobby?” Namjoon inquires lowly, leaning forward as if that’ll keep you from hearing what he’s saying – but you still catch his words and you frown at him, confused.

Jimin only furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head, just as you turn to look up at Namjoon with just as much confusion on your face. “What?” Jimin returns, chuckling in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about? We’re not finished shooting yet.”

The words make Namjoon frown, and he opens and closes his mouth again and again and again as he tries to formulate an answer. You put a hand on his arm to pull his attention and he turns to look at you, his confusion unfaltering. “Joon, he already went home, I don’t get how –”

“Okay, sorry, but we don’t have time for jokes like this, guys,” another familiar voice speaks up. You tear your eyes away from Namjoon to look at the owner of the voice, your eyes widening to the size of dinner plates when you see your boss standing at the back of the group. “We’re running further behind the longer we stay here,” Seokjin remarks, filing through some of the papers in his hands. It certainly sounds like him, but…

“What?” Namjoon asks, his frown deepening. His fingers tighten around your hand, and you look around the floor. It looks no different than when you stepped out of the elevator, though plastic sheets obscure your path to the exit – you can’t even see it anymore. “Running behind on what?”

Seokjin frowns and looks up at Namjoon. “The… schedule?” he replies slowly, papers rustling in his hand. “Are you guys okay? Did you hit your head on something?”

You remain silent – neither of you is quite sure as to how to answer that question. Did you?

Suddenly, the guy with the Go-Pro strapped to his chest gasps, the sound echoing through the space. “Oh my god, so it’s true!” he exclaims, his hand slapping to his mouth.

Confusion washes over the entirety of the group and you turn to him, frowning. There’s only one person who laughs, jokingly elbowing the man in the side. “Come on, Hoseok, they’re just messing with us. Nothing we’ve ever been to has ever been cursed.”

“Cursed?!” you repeat, lips parting in shock. Your hands are starting to go clammy, but you hold onto Namjoon’s as tightly as possible – you’re afraid that either he or you will disappear once you let go. “What do you mean, cursed?”

“See?” ‘Hoseok’ insists, pointing at you as he frantically looks between the guys standing around him. “The real Y/N wouldn’t react like this, she’d literally burst out laughing!”

“Excuse me, since when am I not the real me?” you inquire, tilting your head as you take a step forward. “I think I know who I am.”

“No, I –” Hoseok lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “I meant our Y/N. The one we know.”

“Okay, you lost me,” the laughing guy says through a snort.

“The curse, Jungkook! How else could you explain it? Different clothes, different hair...” Hoseok hisses, eyes flickering to you and Namjoon. Jungkook. Now that you hear his name, you’re starting to think he does look like the Jungkook you once talked to on some company drink. But it can’t be.

When Jungkook simply raises his eyebrows at Hoseok, looking no less confused than before, Hoseok huffs. “The one that sends you to a parallel universe!”

Even though the words Hoseok is saying are absolutely, ridiculously far-fetched and you normally wouldn’t even come close to believing it for one damn second, they hit you in the face like a ton of bricks. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open, your heart starts beating faster and faster. Meanwhile, the thunderstorm outside is still raging on, and a flash of lightning cuts through the plastic sheets surrounding you.

“A parallel…” Namjoon mumbles beside you. When you look up at him, you notice the way he’s staring off into nothingness, his eyebrows furrowed into a thoughtful frown, his fingers idly playing with yours. “That’s impossible.”

“But it happened, didn’t it?” Hoseok insists, taking a step towards you. “What was the last thing that happened before you got here?” he asks the two of you, his eyes seeming to grow wider by the minute.

“We uh… we were working late and then we got into the elevator,” you reply cautiously, your eyes flickering to the two guys you know – at least, you think you know. But with the way they’re looking at you, you’re starting to see some merit in this curse theory. “And some lightning hit and then the elevator started shaking, and then we got onto this floor.”

Hoseok breathes in sharply and claps his hands, stumbling back. “Just like the stories!” he exclaims. His voice is sharp and cuts right through the sound of the rain against the windows, now slowing down to a pitter-patter. “The elevator – where was it?”

“Just over there,” Namjoon replies with a frown, pointing to the direction you came from. “But –”

His sentence is cut off when Hoseok starts to sprint, plastic sheets rustling as he pushes them out of his way, his footsteps as loud as the thunder outside. You only wait a moment, exchanging confused looks with Namjoon before decide to chase after him – hell, at this point, you’d love to just go back into that elevator and go down to the ground floor and get the hell home, away from whatever this situation is.

“Right here?” echoes Hoseok’s voice only seconds later. You push away the last plastic sheet to reveal the set of elevators that you stepped out of – but they all have an out of order, take stairs sign pasted to the metal doors. You let out a shaky breath, your skin going cold. “These elevators?”

Hoseok hits every single button he can hit to summon any of the elevators, but there is no response. The buttons don’t light up, nor do the elevators arrive, even after minutes and minutes and minutes of waiting. Behind your back, you notice that the crew has started to film again, walking around you in circles in an attempt to find the best angle to capture whatever the hell is happening here.

“They worked just a few minutes ago…” Namjoon protests weakly, letting go of your hand to press the buttons again. You cross your arms, biting on your lip as your mind starts to run off in all directions – what the hell is happening?

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Hoseok mutters, shaking his head and pressing the button twice more before he whirls around. His selfie stick wobbles along, and you’re surprised that it hasn’t broken yet. “What the hell do we do?”

“Wait, hold on– are you seriously saying that these are different versions of Y/N and Namjoon?” a low voice chimes in from the back. You turn to see the owner of it take off his headphones, lowering what looks like some sort of recorder in his hands. “Are you listening to yourself?”

“It’s the only explanation!” he shoots back. “Why the hell else would we be investigating this place if the stories could never be true?”

Silence.

“I mean… we could be dreaming,” you say slowly, tilting your head – and you want to believe your own words with all your heart. Only problem is, you don’t.

“Pinch yourself, then,” Hoseok replies, crossing his arms despite the selfie stick that’s in his way. “See if you wake up.”

You’re taken aback by his words and you open and close your mouth in surprise, blinking at the stranger standing in front of you telling you to pinch yourself. “I –”

“Just do it,” he insists. “See if you’re dreaming.”

Opening and closing your mouth once more, you look aside at Namjoon, who shrugs at you – and before you can change your mind, you pull back your sleeve and pinch hard. Your skin stings and you wince at the feeling, the spot starting to burn as the blood rushes up to your arm – but when you look around, your surroundings seem as real as they could be.

“See?” he says through an exhale, turning to the others in his crew. “Not dreaming. It’s a parallel universe, I’m telling you!”

“Wait, so are you saying we ended up in your universe somehow?” Namjoon inquires, tilting his head at Hoseok. “That this elevator is some sort of vessel to get us there?”

He hums and slowly shakes his head. “That would mean that our Y/N and Namjoon would be here too,” he mutters, rubbing his bottom lip as his eyes dart around the environment. “We must’ve all travelled to a universe that isn’t ours in some way…”

He stays silent for a moment, lifting his gaze and narrowing his eyes at the sheet right behind you. He lets out a sharp breath, which comes out in a white cloud – suddenly, the room feels colder than it did before, and you shiver. “I have to check something,” he mumbles, slipping past you to push through the several sheets in his way, walking to wherever he’s planning on checking – leaving you behind.

“He isn’t like this all the time,” someone mumbles as the five remaining crew members brush past you to follow Hoseok, though you don’t quite catch who it could be before they melt into the group.

“Are we supposed to follow them?” Namjoon whispers, letting out a breath in disbelief.

You stare at the same plastic sheets as him, silently taking his hand in yours. “Well…” you say through a sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to try to calm down your pounding heart. “The elevators aren’t exactly working, so what else are we supposed to do?”

“But this parallel universe thing…” he adds, slowly shaking his head. His eyes are still fixed on the dirtied sheets, on the way they subtly sway back and forth in the draft that travels throughout the floor. “It’s ridiculous, right?”

He looks aside at you, his eyebrows furrowed, and you look back at him – only you stay silent, simply biting your lip instead. His face falls at your non-response, his lips parting. “Babe…”

“I mean, what other explanation is there?” you reply, letting out a sigh. “It can’t be just some –”

“Oh my god!”

Your head snaps into the direction that the others disappeared into, and you and Namjoon exchange only a single glance before curiosity gets the best of both of you – you rush towards the spot where you first bumped into the crew, pushing your way through several plastic sheets and moving towards the low hum of chatter.

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask as soon as you push the last sheet out of the way, coming to a halt in front of the stairs. Two crew members are pushing at the door to the stairwell as hard as they can, hitting their shoulders against the glass embedded into the frame.

“The door’s locked,” Jimin – who is apparently not your Jimin – replies, glancing at you. “And before you ask, no, it’s not a pull.”

You let out a laugh, playfully elbowing his side as you shake your head. A bright smile washes over his features as well, and he quickly looks down at his camera, starting to mess with the buttons. “So are we stuck here now or something?” you ask, crossing your arms as your eyes divert to the crew members trying to break into the stairwell.

Jimin shrugs, glancing up as his apparent crew members keep trying to get the door to open. “Well, I mean, Hoseok thinks the stairs are a portal to whatever this universe is, too, so I guess we are if it stays locked,” he says with a frown, shaking his head at the scene in front of him. “Oh, in that case, I guess I should introduce myself, huh?” he adds with a grin, holding out his hand for you and Namjoon to shake. “Jimin. I film Hoseok and the other Y/N while they bicker about ghosts,” he says, holding up his camera.

“Y/N,” you return, shaking his hand. “I calculate stuff.”

He laughs, nodding approvingly as Namjoon shakes his hand as well, and Jimin turns to face him. “Namjoon,” he introduces himself. “I also calculate things.”

“Nice to… re-meet you guys,” he says with a laugh, looking over his shoulder as someone lets out a shout, pounding their elbow against the glass – it doesn’t budge. “Hey, has someone called the site rep?” he calls.

Not-your-boss Seokjin turns to Jimin and shakes his head in response, wiggling his phone at him. “We don’t have service or wifi here apparently, so it’s no use.”

“Oh my god, we somehow ended up in a strange parallel universe and we’re definitely gonna die,” Hoseok mumbles through an exhale, shaking his head as he turns around and starts pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair.

Your smile falls and your eyes widen in fear. “What?!” you gasp, blinking at Hoseok. No matter how many times Namjoon tries to soothe the dread building in your chest by running his thumb over the back of your hand, it won’t go away. “Why do you think we’re gonna die?!”

“We’re not gonna die,” Seokjin corrects Hoseok calmly, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder and making him stop at once. “We just need to figure out how to break through these windows and get out of here, okay? That’s all.”

“But we’re in a parallel universe, it’s dangerous,” Hoseok says with a shake of his head. The rain is picking up again and the sound of water beating against glass booms in your ears – a low rumble of thunder sounds in the distance. “We could mess up everything for the versions of us that live here.”

There’s a short silence as Seokjin takes a slow breath in and then pushes it back out, looking up at the concrete ceiling as he subtly shakes his head. “Okay, then we’ll each figure out how to get back to our right parallel universe. It shouldn’t be that hard, should it?”

Hoseok chuckles, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. “Yeah, parallel universes are so very simple to figure out that we might as well –”

A sudden beep cuts off his sentence and his head snaps up, eyes wide as they dart around the space. Another beep, followed by one more, then more, until the beeps get so fast that they almost sound like one long, high-pitched sound.

“Isn’t that the EMF reader?” the guy with the headphones – Yoongi, apparently – says with a frown, nodding to Hoseok’s bag. He gasps and slings it off of his shoulder, rummaging around in it until he pulls out a weird, rectangular device that looks more like an old, flat cellphone than anything – antenna and all.

“It’s going haywire,” Hoseok mumbles, hitting the thing a few times before looking at it again – it’s still beeping, showing no signs of shutting down. You wince at the sound, moving your hands up to cover your ears when, suddenly, a loud, static sound cuts through the beeping EMF reader and Hoseok’s eyes grow wider still. “That’s the spirit box!” he shouts over the loud bursts of white noise, undercut by voices that are starting and stopping so quickly that you can’t hear a thing they’re saying.

He bends over to search his bag once more – and then pulls out another strange device you’ve never seen before in your entire life. The spirit box is black and just as rectangular as the EMF reader, emitting an annoyingly loud sound of white noise that never seems to stop – until one of the voices you’ve been hearing every once in a while speaks for longer than a millisecond.

“Trapped. … Die.”

Despite the fact that you have no idea what any of this means for you, your heart drops into your stomach and the blood drains from your face. Your eyes wide, you look up at Hoseok, who seems to be just as shocked. “I…”

“That didn’t sound good,” you breathe out, looking around – the others you don’t seem as fazed, though their faces are visibly paler and their eyes noticeably wider. “What was that?”

“It’s a spirit,” Hoseok breathes out, tearing his gaze away from the spirit box to look at you. When you show just as much confusion as before, he lowers both the EMF reader and the spirit box, taking a breath in, a breath out. “The– this building is constructed in the exact spot where an old and really cruel prison used to be,” he starts, his voice shaky. “And they say this whole place is haunted for exactly that reason.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and your eyes widen. “The whole place is what now?”

“Haunted,” Hoseok repeats, as much concern etched into his features as you feel there is in yours. “There were like fifteen escapees that died trying to get out,” he adds, his breath coming out shakily, and he’s starting to blink a lot. “And they say that their spirits opened up a portal to a parallel universe, just to be able to get away somehow, but they never got to leave themselves.”

“Jesus fuck,” you breathe out, lips parting in surprise. You shiver when a cold breeze runs through your hair, and you grit your teeth to keep them from clattering. “Since when is our office haunted?”

“I mean, Al’s joked about it before, but I never thought…” Namjoon mumbles, his grip tightening around your hand. “I just figured he was really joking.”

You whimper, hand coming up to cover your forehead as you keep shaking your head. You’re cold, you’re tired, you’re scared, and you just want to go home. The only consolation here is that you’re with Namjoon, but even the steadiness that simply holding hands provides doesn’t make the discomfort go away. “That’s not good.”

“Come on, you’re not supposed to do that!” Hoseok says through a groan, even going as far so as to stomp his foot on the ground, and you blink down at his shoe in surprise. “You’re supposed not believe any of it and laugh at my suffering and annoy me out of being scared!”

You raise your head to look at him, letting out a bitter chuckle. “That sounds like a lot.”

It’s silent for a moment and he lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing as he sends you an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he says, his voice so soft that you almost can’t hear it over the sounds of the EMF reader and the spirit box – but your brain seems to have relegated both of those to the background for the time being. “I just– you’re usually the one who thinks straight and finds… non-paranormal reasons for everything.”

You clear your throat and nod, glancing down at your feet before looking up again. “I’m sorry I’m not the sceptical ghost hunter Y/N tonight, then.”

“Hey, what can you do?” Hoseok says with a shrug, fumbling with the EMF reader and turning it off. “You didn’t exactly ask to be transported to a parallel universe and be threatened with death by some ghost.”

“You’re definitely right about that,” you return with a laugh, nodding as Hoseok switches off the spirit box as well. “Now we just need to figure out how to get the hell out of here and we can all go on with our lives,” you add, wrapping an arm around Namjoon without thinking much of it – and you’re immediately reminded of where you are and who you’re supposed to be when you only see eyes widening briefly and gazes averting.

“I take it we’re not dating in your universe?” Namjoon says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck – when you look up at him, you swear you see his cheeks have flushed a faint red colour.

Seokjin laughs, shaking his head as he stuffs some papers in his bag. “No,” he simply answers through a chuckle. “But we should see how you guys’ll fair,” he adds with a grin, looking up at the two of you. You don’t quite know whether you should laugh or not here – but you do it anyway.

“Let’s get out of here before we start planning alternate-universe experiments, alright?” Yoongi interjects, eyes gliding over the group.

Seokjin shrugs. “We could do both.”

Trying to hold back laughter, you scratch the corner of your mouth in an attempt to smooth out your amused smile. “We should see if there are any other ways to get out,” you say after clearing your throat, looking aside at Namjoon. “There should be an emergency exit, shouldn’t there?”

“Oh shit, you’re right!” Namjoon breathes out, a relieved smile washing over his features. “It should be on the other side of the floor, but…” He turns his head this way and that – but suddenly, there are plastic sheets all around you, and you can barely see a few steps ahead.

“There were less of these before, right?” you note warily, taking a step back from Namjoon to inspect one of the sheets closer, poking the one in front of you – it feels real.

“I –” Namjoon pauses. The others seem confused as well, their soft murmurs, shuffling footsteps echoing against the concrete surroundings. Turning your back to them, you tilt your head at one of the sheets reaching out to push it aside – more sheets. “I think so.” His voice sounds further away than it did before, but you don’t pay it much attention, simply stepping forward to check if there are as many sheets behind the next one as you think there are.

And the answer is yes.

“It’s like a maze or something,” you note to the others, turning to look over your shoulder and huffing when you don’t hear any response – but when you push the sheet aside to walk back to them, your heart drops into your stomach.

Everyone’s gone. In their place, there are only more plastic sheets, dirtied and musty, softly swaying back and forth in whatever draft is blowing through the floor. No people, no cameras, no stairs, nothing.

“Namjoon?” you breathe out – silence. The rain has stopped, and so has the thunder, just like the street sounds you can usually hear when you’re working at your desk. There’s just your heart beating in your ears, your breathing starting to grow ragged – the silence feels almost suffocating.

“Namjoon?” you repeat, turning around and around, a feeling of dread tightening around your chest and your lungs, making it hard to breathe. Your surroundings don’t change in the slightest. “Jimin? Seokjin?”

More silence.

“Hoseok!” you shout at the top of your lungs, falling silent right after – but, much like you expected and unlike you were hoping, there is no reply. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter underneath your breath, over and over and over again.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you wrap your arms around your own torso, trying to stop yourself from shivering too much, trying to get yourself together. Your foot is tapping against the concrete floor, blood rushing up to your face, but you try to ignore all of that, focusing on keeping your breathing normal.

Why can’t the fearless, professional ghost-hunting version of you be here instead of you?

You push aside a sheet of plastic, faced with yet another one behind it, then another and another and another. Starting to pick up your pace, all you can do is try to push through the fear closing around your throat, making your muscles tense up, try to channel this other, apparently existent version of yourself right now, to be fearless and sceptical and not afraid of any of these goddamn ghosts. You’ve long lost control of your breathing and you feel like you could trip over your own feet any second now, your legs burning, your heart beating out of your chest.

But when you push aside a last sheet and come to a stop in front of the emergency exit, it momentarily stops beating.

You’ve found it.

It’s right there in front of you. A single door painted a dark green, its glossy varnish shimmering in the soft moonlight – you’d almost say it’s glowing. A green sign with a drawing of a running stick man hangs right above it, flickering frantically. You take a step forward, reaching out to grip the metal doorknob –

You feel a tap on your shoulder. Namjoon?

With a gasp, you whirl around, looking behind you, your eyes scanning your surroundings.

No one.

You let out a slow breath, your heart rate picking up so much that you can hear it beating in your ears. It wasn’t. A. Ghost. Not a ghost. Not. A. Ghost.

Turning back around, a relieved sigh escapes your lips when the emergency exit is still there. You’re gonna open the door and call for the others to come to you until they join you. You’re not leaving this spot, no matter what.

Your hand closes around the doorknob and you take another breath, gripping the cold metal so tightly that your knuckles turn white and its edges dig into your skin.

“Stay.”

The voice sounds so close to your ear that you let out a yelp, hand shooting off the doorknob as you jump a mile in the air. Shivers run down your spine as you recall the sensation of actual breath ghosting over your skin, goosebumps prickling on your arms and legs. Not a ghost. Not a ghost. Not a ghost. Just open the door, wait for the others, and get the hell out and then figure out how to get back to whatever ‘your’ universe is.

“Guys!” you shout out, eyes squeezing closed as you grip the ice cold doorknob once again. “I found the door!”

As expected, there is no response, but you push on. “Guys!” you repeat, slamming the door open, ignoring the shivers running down your spine as breath ghosts over your skin yet again, setting one foot outside and –

You jolt awake.

Inhaling sharply, you sit up, wincing at the shrill sound of a phone ringing in the background. Your back is stiff and your eyes are puffy – you rub them in an attempt to see better, letting out another sigh. Blinking as you lower your hands into your lap, you look around, dazed.

You’re sitting at a colleague’s desk in your office, a thunderstorm raging outside, rain beating against the windows. A flash of lightning illuminates the entire floor in white, and you squint to protect your eyes from the brightness. “What the –”

“Y/N?”

You gasp and your head snaps to the side, seeing Namjoon sitting in the chair right next to you. He’s looking at you with wide eyes and parted lips, his eyebrows furrowed as his gaze darts over your face.

Without another thought, you pull back your sleeve and pinch. You wince but smile when it hurts like a bitch, and you look down to see a red spot start to form on your skin. Ignoring the second red spot right beside it, you look back up again, your smile widening.

“Namjoon,” you breathe out, your shoulders relaxing as you throw your arms around him. He breathes out a relieved laugh, wrapping his arms around you in response, and you close your eyes to focus on his warm embrace. Your heart is beating hard, beating fast, and you can’t help but open your eyes again to look around the office to see if you really could be back. The desks, chairs, carpet, windows – everything looks the same as it always has. There isn’t a speck of dirt that seems out of place, even the weird stain on the wall by the printer looking the exact same. You’re back.

“Is it just me, or did we just have a really weird dream?” Namjoon mutters into your shoulder, his arms staying tight around you.

You breathe out a laugh. “Did it have something to do with ghosts and universe travelling?” you ask, flashes of plastic sheets, concrete floors, bright camera lights running through your mind. They seem real, they feel real – but you’re starting to wonder if they even happened in the first place.

“I –” Namjoon pauses, letting out a disbelieving breath as you break apart, leaning back in your chairs and staring off into the distance. “It did.”

You lift your eyes to his, holding his gaze for a prolonged moment. It wasn’t real, right? “Just... a weirdly similar dream, then,” you mumble, saying it more to yourself than to Namjoon – and even though the both of you seem to want to believe it, you aren’t exactly convinced.

“But how did we –”

“We fell asleep and our brains just synced up somehow,” you insist, shaking your head. “Just a dream,” you repeat firmly, though your eyes flicker to the two red spots on your arm and you wonder...

Namjoon stares at you for a little while longer. His eyebrows are furrowed and he’s fidgeting with his fingers, though he’s nodding slowly.

A phone continues to ring in the background, its shrill sound cutting through the soft pitter-patter of the rain outside. The thunder has ceased for the time being and so, the office feels much calmer and more peaceful than before you left – or, at least, you think you left. But you’re not so sure of anything right now.

Abruptly tearing his eyes away from you, Namjoon jumps into action and swipes his phone off his desk, clearing his throat when he looks at the screen – you swear you see his cheeks flushing as he purses his lips. Before you can ask him about it, though, he quickly slips his phone into his pocket.

“Let’s just go home before we fall asleep again,” he says with a soft smile, getting up from his chair and holding out his hand.

You grin up at him, lacing his fingers with yours and letting him pull you up. “Or are we just trying again?”

He narrows his eyes at you, though he can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he quickly hits the off-button of his computer. “Too soon,” he says with a chuckle, snatching his bag from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder.

A short silence falls as you walk away from his desk, and you look down at your hands as you trail behind him, watching the way you can make his fingers move with yours, feeling the way his hand slots into yours so easily, and smiling softly.

“But let’s take the stairs, just to be sure.”

With a laugh, you nod eagerly, following him as he strays from the path towards the elevators and heading for the stairs down instead. You feel yourself growing tired, exhaustion starting to take over you. The memories of a shaking elevator, footsteps echoing through an empty office floor, your heart pounding out of your chest – they’re all starting to feel less and less real with every step you take. Names and faces start to fade from memory, images growing blurry until there’s nothing left but the sensation of breath softly ghosting over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Hey,” Namjoon pipes up as you take the umpteenth set of stairs down, the both of you panting, out of breath, though not complaining.

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Hm?”

Frowning, you notice the way he bites his lip as he looks at you, then quickly averts his eyes, stopping in the middle of a set of stairs. “I know it was just a dream and everything,” he starts, and you stop on the step right above his. “But I’m curious.”

A smile teasing over your lips, you take another step down, taking his hand in yours. “Curious about what?”

“How did you get out?”

“Emergency exit, like we said,” you reply. Yet another shiver runs down your spine as you feel the sensation of breath tickling your skin, goosebumps spreading over your arms and legs. “I wanted to call you guys, but you were gone and –” You heave a sigh, looking down at your hands as you play with Namjoon’s fingers. “I woke up before I could find you.”

Namjoon hums, and you lift your eyes to look at him, noticing the way his frown is deepening, the way he’s chewing on his bottom lip.

You tilt your head, letting go of his hand to run your fingers through his soft hair. “Why?”

He lets out a slow breath, his eyes closed as he smiles. “Nothing. Just curious,” he mutters, quickly leaning in to peck your lips and pull you further down the stairs. The door to the lobby is already in sight, freedom lurking on the other side. “Anyways, I hope this weird dream doesn’t overshadow tonight too much.”

You raise your eyebrows at him as he opens the door for you, letting you step outside. “What’s tonight?” you ask slowly, tilting your head. You walk backwards into the lobby, keeping your eyes on him as your footsteps echo off the shiny white floors. It’s not as brightly lit as usual, which makes you frown – the lights are dimmed instead tonight. “Did I miss an anniversary?”

Namjoon just smiles at you, nodding to something behind you. With a frown, you turn around, and your heart skips yet another beat as you draw in a sharp breath – rose petals rain down on you, courtesy of Jimin, who is standing a few feet away from you with a bright smile on his face. He’s dressed in his usual office clothes, and you suddenly realise why he stayed late with you, as well. On the floor, candles are carefully arranged into the shape of a heart, and the shape almost seems to glow right in front of you.

Are you still dreaming?

“Namjoon, what –”

You swallow your words when you turn around and Namjoon isn’t at eye height anymore. Rather, he has sunk to the floor on one knee, holding open a small, black box with a ring inside.

Holy shit.

You pinch yourself for the third time tonight, blinking fast in an attempt to get rid of the burning feeling in your eyes. Hurts like hell – you’re not dreaming. And all you can think as you look at Namjoon, his eyes glittering in the low lighting as he smiles up at you is – you’re so fucking glad you live in this universe.

“Will you marry me?”

bangtan unsolved | only you | masterlist

a/n: thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it!! I know it’s a bit different from my usual stuff but I still had a great time writing it, and I hope you enjoyed it too :)) Let me know what you thought, I’d love to hear from you♥ Have a wonderful day/night wherever you are, and I hope to see you next week :))

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [17/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Author’s Note: Daily check-in to see how you're holding up under social distancing, and a reminder that in addition to washing your hands and stay inside, don't snack too much, drink at least 8 cups of water and take a shower! You'd be surprised how easy it is to stop doing a lot of the basics when you're in isolation for a while! Hang in there, people!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Six o’clock is an ungodly hour in the morning to be awake and Jason honestly doesn’t know how people do it. The hours between four and eleven in the morning are the only time he has a chance to rest, and now that’s been co-opted by the squawking creature in his arms.

He can’t imagine how the non-vigilante population finds it any easier.

And then there’s Tim.

Who voluntarily gets up at this time every morning to go play Wayne Poster Child™ after a night of knocking heads in the city.

There was a reason Bruce never let Jason patrol on a school night, and it wasn’t just because of the potential for unexplained bruises, and yet here’s little Timmy, off to run a multibillion-dollar company while existing on coffee grounds and stubbornness.

And the dumbass keeps offering to give up more sleep to take care of Jason’s kid.

How has he not fallen off a building yet?

Luisa’s gluttonous grunting brings Jason’s thoughts back to the present. She’s finally started to attack her bottles with gusto, as if it’s finally occurred to her that, “Hey, weird rubber thing in my mouth equals food”.

Jason’s grateful for that, too; not that he’s going to admit he was starting to worry there was something wrong with her.

It’s not that he’s trying to be heartless or anything, but there’s a fine line between being concerned and getting attached. And there is a mess of reasons why he can’t afford to do that. If Tim’s dopey insistence to help out is any indication, he’s already starting down that dangerous road.

Eventually, Luisa releases the nipple, and Jason maneuvers her around to burp her, only to hear a tiny, gurgling cough, which is then followed by warm wetness spilling down his shoulder—at the exact moment that Tim walks into the kitchen.

“Looks like she has a complaint about the chef,” he remarks, mouth twisted into a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason mutters, holding the now vomit-covered baby as far out in front of him as he can do while keeping her head steady. He tries not to grimace at the stain spreading across his back; he’s probably been covered with worse, but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant.

“That’s why you’re supposed to put a towel over your shoulder.”

“I know!” Jason snaps. “I forgot.”

Tim holds his hands out for the baby. “Go change.”

“I need to clean her up first.”

“You’re not sitting on my sofa covered in puke.”

“Who says I was going to sit on your sofa?” Jason challenges, even though that's exactly where he was going. He’s sort of co-opted that whole area into the downstairs changing station.

The sour-sweet smell of vomit makes the decision for him, however, and he passes Luisa over to Tim, who’s already got a washcloth in hand to dab at the mess. While Jason heads upstairs, he brings her over to that same makeshift changing station and starts to undo her soiled onesie.

The last thing Jason hears as he closes the door to his room is, “Ugh, he was right. That doesn’t look human.”

Jason snorts, glad he’s not the only one that has to suffer through mysterious bodily fluids.

He considers the merits of showering now, weighing the need to be clean versus the probability of ending up dirty again anyway in an hour or so and then decides to just wipe himself down with a wet cloth before putting on a new shirt.

Digging around in the duffel bag, he accidentally knocks down the jacket he threw haphazardly on the loveseat. The inner pocket gapes, allowing several items to fall out, including the Red Hood plush toy and the sonogram from Isabel’s fridge.

He grabbed them both on a whim before leaving the apartment, but he can’t quite recall the logic or reasoning behind that. Isabel’s email and its implications had taken up most of his brainpower at that point. The trained detective part of Jason tells him he wanted evidence, but he’s not entirely sure of evidence of what.

He picks the items up now, frowning at their existence, and then abruptly shoves them both into one of the dresser drawers.

It’s too early for soul-searching.

When he comes back downstairs, it’s to Tim just wrestling a grump baby into a white onesie. Even standing at the foot of the stairs, Jason notices that it contrasts very obviously with Luisa’s skin.

“I was right,” he says, “she’s definitely turning yellow.”

Luisa cracks an eye open at the sudden sound of his voice, and beyond the startling blue iris, he notes that her sclera is also off-color. “Look, even the whites of her eyes are going yellow.”

Tim studies her, and nods. “Yeah, she is a little jaundiced.”

“So do we take her to the doctor for this, or what? I mean, does she have yellow fever or something?”

“Yellow fever has an incubation period of three to six days,” Tim replies. “Since she hasn’t been alive that long and hasn’t had a chance to be exposed to anything like that, I doubt that’s what it is.”

Jason gives him a look. “How the hell do you know this shit?”

“An eco-fascist cell tried to contaminate Gotham’s water supply with a strain of it last year.”

“It’s always the water supply with these people,” Jason mumbles. “You’d think the city would invest in better security down there. Batman’s not always going to be there to stop it.”

“Batgirl, actually,” Tim replies. “Singlehandedly. Steph was very proud.”

“I’m sure.” Jason frowns again at the vaguely yellow baby, telling himself that if Tim isn’t worried, he shouldn’t be. Still, “You know, while we have her here, we should maybe wash off some of that white stuff."

“What? No. Did you forget? ‘Wet baby equals slippery baby’? Those were your words.”

“There are other ways to take a bath, moron,” Jason retorts, examining the bulge above Luisa’s umbilical cord stump. He thinks he remembers Dr. Kerry saying it would fall off in a week or so, but to be honest, most of the night they picked her up from the hospital is a blur to him.

“Well, I’ll leave you to that then, because I have to get going,” Tim says, heading upstairs to transform himself from half-asleep slob to Timothy Drake-Wayne.

Jason tries not to balk at that; part of him was hoping Tim would offer to do that chore.

Bathing is different from feeding. With blankets around the kid, he doesn’t have to worry so much about bruising her skin by just touching her. And yes, he knows that babies don’t bruise that easily, but he’s so used to ruining everything he touches that this seems like a valid concern to him.

In the end, he just takes his time, not giving her a real bath from the tiny tub still packed up in the pile of baby things, but an approximation of the wipe down he gave himself earlier. Careful to keep her covered except to expose whatever arm or leg needs wiping off, he slides a cloth gently against her skin, noting she’s still got that weird white residue on her.

She makes squeaking grunts of complaint at the alien feeling, but it must not feel too bad because she doesn’t erupt into crying. He takes that has a win.

“Now that Her Highness has had her morning toilette,” Jason grouses as he nestles the lump of baby into her carrier.

Once Tim leaves, Jason spends the day at home much like he did the day before, scouring the apartment for anything readable that isn’t a gaming guide, taking apart his gear and putting it back together and grabbing quick naps between feedings and changings. It’s entirely possible he may be losing his mind, because how did his life become this?

I didn’t even stay this still when I was a kid. Is this what life is like for eighteen years when you have a kid?

There has to be more to the parenting gig than this.

Frustrated, he turns the television on, surfing the channels and wondering why there’s nothing worth watching on any of the thousand channels Tim has access to. Eventually, he lands on a local news channel which he keeps on just to have something making noise in the overly silent house.

He’s barely synthesizing the information until a special report comes on, the shaky camera capturing a car speeding through Crime Alley, windows rolled down to allow a gun to open fire.

“…only the latest in a series of violent incidents that have occurred just outside of the Bowery this week,” the woman on the screen is saying. “Officials believe these may be retaliation for the recent raiding of three businesses in the Bowery with connections to the Maroni crime family…”

“Then officials are stupid because anyone gunning for Maroni wouldn’t be takin' it out on him in Crime Alley,” Jason mutters. Especially since everyone in Gotham’s underworld knows the penalty for going anywhere near Hood territory.

“…just the latest in the continuing unrest in the neighborhood. Local police are still asking for information regarding the disappearance of teenagers LaRynn Davies and Carlton King, last seen leaving the schoolyard of PS 181. This has been Maria Amardosa, Gotham News—”

Jason jabs at the remote, switching the television off.

It doesn’t surprise him that crime’s up; April and May are when the weather starts to warm up, which means a lot of enterprising criminal organizations open back up for business. Even when he was Robin, Jason used to make a point of more heavily patrolling his neighborhood in the spring to discourage that sort of thing.

And now, it’s going on a week, and he hasn’t been out once. It’s bad enough having to leave matters when he’s out of town or off-planet, but in those cases, he can’t do anything about it.

“But now, I’m right freakin’ here, and sittin’ on my ass.”

Which is why when Tim gets home from work that night and gratefully accepts the stir-fry Jason whipped up more out of boredom than actual hunger, he decides to broach the subject.

“I’m goin' out to patrol tonight,” he informs him, half-defiant. “If I don’t put in an appearance along my usual route, people are gonna start gettin' ideas.”

More than they already are.

He expects protests or warnings, but to his surprise, Tim swallows a mouthful of rice and nods. “I’ll watch the baby while you’re out.”

All reasonable like, the way he’s been since he picked me up at the bar.

Jason tries not to feel like he’s being handled, and goes on in a guarded tone, “This isn’t me tryin' to dump her off on you and run. I’m not that big of an ass.”

“Debatable. But noted. It’s not a problem.”

“Are you sure? Because if you don’t want to, tell me.”

Tim fixes him with an exasperated look. “You’re really not used to people just…genuinely wanting to help you, are you?”

“Not generally, no,” Jason replies, folding his arms across his chest. “Especially not people that I’ve tried to kill.”

“Twice.”

“Twice.”

“Though I did knee you in the balls that one time,” Tim reminds him, shoveling another bite into his mouth.

Jason winces. “Yeah, I remember. Not sure that’s enough to put us on equal playin' field though."

“Also, do you remember last year when you thought you had a bedbug infestation, and even when you switched safehouses, you couldn’t get rid of them?”

The question is asked with an innocence that wouldn’t fool even the most naïve person in the world, and Jason growls. “Okay, I take it back. You do owe me. At least I would have made your death quick. Bedbugs are just…” He shudders. “Evil.”

“There’s a reason Ra’s al Ghul wants me to work for him,” Tim agrees cheerfully.

“I’m suddenly re-evaluating the wisdom of leaving you with a small child.”

“I’m serious, though, it’s no problem to watch her.” Tim makes a waving gesture. “Go. Break up a few bar fights, knock around whatever pimps deserve it, whatever. Just…don’t kill anyone.”

“I ain’t askin’ permission here, Drake.”

“I know that. Doesn’t mean you don’t need the reminder.”

“If you’re so worried I’m gonna snap, maybe you should be tryin’ to keep me home.”

“That would be pretty stupid. And possibly suicidal on my part. You haven’t been out on the streets for a week, and you’ve been cooped up in here since Isa came home.” He ignores Jason’s glare at the nickname. “You need some kind of outlet, and this is the best one I can think of for you.”

It’s the most laissez-faire response he’s ever gotten from a Bat when it comes to Red Hood’s involvement in the Gotham nightlife—or rather, his frequent interruptions of it. Even Barbara—who he knows understands the logic of his crusade, even as she vehemently decries it—has never been like this.

Barring the whole ‘don’t kill anyone’ spiel, that was almost encouraging.

And a far cry from the kid that accused him of taking the easy path of crimefighting when they first met years ago.

Jason realizes then that he’s had a very specific image of Tim Drake in his head all this time. Living in close quarters with him is showing him that he really doesn’t know him at all.

Now is that just me…or is the rest of the family just as clueless when it comes to the baby bird here?

He must be giving Tim a funny look, because the kid says, “What?”

“Nothing,” Jason replies. “Just wondering what Bat Daddy would think about your pro-Red Hood stance.”

Tim winces, an expression of deep revulsion on his face. “Please. Never, ever refer to Bruce or any other guy I know as ‘daddy’. Ever again.”

Jason raises an eyebrow—that’s the first time he’s elicited that reaction—but rather than ask about it, he instead returns to his room to grab his clothes.

The Nest isn’t like the Cave, where Batman keeps extra gear for everyone stowed away (even for the Red Hood, he learned shortly after the mission to bring Damian’s body back from Apokolips), which means Jason’s going to need to stop at one of his caches after leaving to get his helmet and some of the bulkier pieces of armor he didn’t have with him.

Kitted out in everything except the eponymous red hood, Jason pauses in front of the secret entrance to Red Robin’s base.

Sitting on the couch with Luisa, Tim is just hanging up the phone. “I made an appointment for her to see Leslie next Tuesday. It’s the earliest she could fit us in since I couldn’t tell her the exact details.”

“Yeah, probably something to explain in person,” Jason agrees. He jerks his thumb at the door. “I’m leavin' now. Last chance to back out.”

“It’s not going to kill me to be responsible for an infant for a few hours,” Tim deadpans. “I mean, you’ve done it all week, so it should be easy.”

“Famous last words, Replacement. Just remember—Safiya’s number’s in your phone. Use it if you get overwhelmed.”

Tim rolls his eyes at his own words being flung at him. “You’re hilarious.”

“I know,” Jason grins.

“Get out of here.”

“Gone—also, stealing one of your bikes.”

“Just make sure to fill up the tank when you’re done!” Tim calls after him before the door shuts and locks away the domestic part of Jason’s life for the evening.

The short trip from Tim’s place to Jason’s nearest safehouse passes in a blur, and before he knows it he’s safely behind the visor of his helmet and back on the streets.

There’s nothing quite like Gotham at night, and even after a lifetime living here, he’s not entirely sure if that’s a good thing or not.

The rooftops are familiar steppingstones beneath his feet, as he tucks and rolls upon landing, only to propel himself back to his feet and do it again upon reaching the next roof. The rhythm of it all is easy, second nature even, and one he missed in the days where he’s been cooped up.

The last time he was out of commission for so many consecutive days was when he caught the winter flu, and even then he dragged his carcass out of bed just to loom in the dark as a warning to anyone who might try something. It’s a trick Bruce used to pull, when needed to make an appearance as Batman but was hacking up half a lung.

Tim was right about one thing: being able to throw himself into a fight is cathartic. His mind closes off every other thought beyond the here and now, and for the first time in a week, he feels like himself.

He busts up two bodega robberies, stops a carjacking and when a john tries to drag one of the girls working the corner into his car, Jason takes supreme joy in slamming the bastard’s hand in his car door. He checks in with several of his sources, some of whom have names for him of whatever moron has decided to ignore the rules of the Hood this week.

It’s a few hours worth of running about before he finally feels clear again, and by the time he starts winding down his patrol, there’s a deep but familiar exhaustion curling in his muscles that he only ever feels after a good workout. It makes his thoughts feel clearer and more capable of tackling his personal problems once more.

Using the interface in his helmet, he runs a search for the addresses of every Jonathan Sutter in Gotham, then uses the program he piggybacks off the Batcave server to attach the names to any of them that have been treated for Joker toxin in the past year.

There are two and considering one of them is about sixty years old and works as a greeter at Walmart, it’s a safe bet which one he’s looking for. He makes a stop out of his usual route to check up on the guy.

Isabel’s ex lives in the nicer part of Otisburg, about two blocks from an elementary school and a playground.  His home is a decently maintained two-story walk-up, with one of the newer Volkswagen models in the driveway. From what Safiya told him, Sutter does decently financially, and according to the photo in his dossier, he’s got a kind of refined Tony Stark looking going on.

Though that means about jack squat when it comes to whether the guy should be around kids.

If he were Batman, Jason would break in and loom over the guy’s bed until he woke up, but since Sutter’s less likely to be receptive if he’s pissing himself in fear, Jason decides he’ll return by daylight.

He just wanted to scope out where the guy lived, anyhow.

Whether due to his own exhaustion catching up with him, or the nagging feeling at the back of his mind wanting to make sure Tim’s place is still standing, he returns to where he parked the borrowed bike and heads back to the Nest earlier than he normally would.

He’s not even surprised to see the family insomniac still awake, although for once he’s not poring over case files. There’s a game paused on the flatscreen, and Tim is in the process of carefully hefting the baby in his arms up and down, a frown on his face.

Like every Bat, he gives no indication he even noticed he’s no longer alone.

“What’s up?” Jason asks as he rubs a towel through his sweaty hair; he left the bulky bits of his gear in the Nest.

“I think she feels lighter than she did when we brought her here,” Tim replies, a perplexed expression on his face. “Do you think she’s not getting enough food?”

“Not possible with the amount we feed her.”

“Yeah…” Tim shakes his head, then meets Jason’s gaze. “So, did you strike fear into the hearts of every gangbanger in the Alley?”

“You joke, but I take that as a personal challenge.”

“Please don’t.” Tim stands up, holding the baby with more confidence than Jason thinks he’s ever imagined and wanders over. “She slept most of the time you were away.”

“Of course she did,” Jason mutters with a scowl. The baby seems to behave for Tim a lot more than she does for him.

“That’s pretty impressive since she already spends about three-quarters of the day asleep.”

“Wish she would sleep at night, or at least let me.”

“It’s not like we’re not used to being up at all hours.”

“Yeah, but we’re also used to passing out for actual sleep when we get home. I think she thinks sunrise is a signal to work up a f-fuh--,” Jason’s complaint is interrupted by a yawn, and he shakes his head. “Fuss. And on that note…”

“Go. Shower,” Tim says. “I can put her down before I turn in.”

Jason nods at that, putting a foot on the stairs before something occurs to him and he glances back.

“Hey, Tim…”

“Yeah?”

“…Thanks.”

Tim appears caught off-guard, and then an actual grin breaks over his face. “Careful, Jay, you’re starting to sound downright friendly.”

“It’s the sleep deprivation,” Jason replies, “Don’t read into it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”  

⁂⁂⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

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Next Chapter

[strawberry-lemonade]

here is a WIP that i will never finish

------

"Excuse me, but I happen to think Mávri gáta is hilarious. Those puns are spot on."

Aria opened her mouth and paused, before closing it again.

"Zào Fortuna has got spots right?."

"Wait were you trying to aim a pun at her, but then forgot if she had spots?

"Uh, maybe..."

"Dude, you're an idiot in every sense of the word."

Aria hung her head.

"...I know."

"That's nice."

Aria threw a pillow at her before exploding in a fit of giggles.

"Mooncaaaake! You're supposed to give me a hug and say sorry!"

Marinette sighed and blew her nails before turning to look at Aria.

"We both know how that goes down."

Aria sighed and stood up.

"Have you heard from Adrien in the past few days?"

"You know what? I haven't."

"Last time I talked to him, he told me he got a boyfriend."

"He did? Why didn't I know about that?"

"Babe, weren't you on the other line?"

"Uh... I think I fell asleep."

"Wow. You really need to stop staying up all night on commissions."

"Speaking of, any news about that stuff?"

"Well, from what I've heard, my little sister from another mister is traveling to Gotham because her fashion business has taken off. 'The mysterious designer MDC has bypassed Gabriel Agreste in the polls!' 

"Well, what you heard is true-'

"I also heard that you get to stay in Wayne Manor and bring a friend. Maybe Sabine?"

"What? And risk her finding out that I parade around the city in spots every night? No thanks."

"Hm. Chloe?"

"The invitation would be wasted. She's already going to Gotham with her mom."

"What about Alya?"

"Since 2 heroes will be out of commission, Rena is going to be needed here."

"I don't know."

Aria collapsed on the bed with a groan before sitting up and smirking.

"Lila."

"Okay. Your guessing privileges have been revoked."

"Noooooo! How else will I find out who you're going to take?!"

"By asking. Like a normal person."

"How dare you assume that I'm normal."

"Now I'm beginning to wonder if I should actually tell you."

"Okay, okay! I'll shut up! Just please tell me who, so I don't have to stay up till 3, guessing."

"I wanted to ask you."

"Uh, I will give you an entire list of reasons why I shouldn't come. Plus, I don't really think they'd let me bring the cat."

"I'm asking right now, and if they say no, then I'll politely decline the invitation."

"I don't want you to miss out-"

"They replied!"

"What? Let me see!"

Aria scrambled off the chaise and scurried over to Marinette, tripping in the process. 

"Wait! Let me get up!"

Aria jumped up and stumbled into the desk.

Marinette clicked the email and recited it aloud.

"Dear MDC, your friend's cat will be allowed. If you need to arrange anything to bring your cat on the plane, please do not hesitate to ask.

 Aria squealed and hugged Marinette.

"Ok. If we can start packing now, I'll come with you." 

"Why do we have to pack now? The trip isn't until Saturday and it's only Wednesday! Can't we just enjoy the first sleepover we've had in a month?"

"Babe, please? I hate procrastinating."

"What are you talking about? You love procrastinating!"

"I don't love it, It just happens to be my default."

"Same difference!"

"Um, no, not the same difference."

"Nyah."

-------

"Dante. I am begging you. Don't turn off the computer yet."

"Aria. it's almost 1 A.M and we both have class tomorrow."

"I knoooow! But I put my fucking heart into this, and if you turn it off right now, it will delete and I have no way of saving it."

"Aria. Go to bed now."

"Nooooo! I have to finish it!"

"Fine. But as soon as the clock gets to 1. I'm turning everything off. Just because you're my favorite doesn't mean I'll let you get away with anything."

"Boi! I let you get away with so many things! Can I not just stay up for another hour to finish a damn design?!"

"Aria?"

"Hi, Minette."

"Are you gonna stay up again while binge-ing on coffee?"

"Maybe..."

"Marinette. Please tell my idiot sister that she needs sleep too."

"Aria-"

"Noooo! My favorites are teaming up to defeat me!"

"Aria. Go. To. Bed."

"No!"

Aria jumped up, seized the computer, shot into the bathroom.

"Ha! Now you can't stop me from finishing this!"

"Okay. I give up. Marinette, she's yours now."

Dante slowly backed out of the kitchen with his arms raised.

"Aria. Come out. Please. It's not a sleepover if it's only one person. Plus I need someone to binge-watch movies with!"

"...What kind of movies?"

"Um, MIB International, Charlie's Angels, Hanna, Atomic Blonde, La Femme Nikita-"

"I'm in. Just give me a second."

The sound of shuffling around could be heard in the unusually silent house. The bathroom door opened to show a dark room a few seconds later, and Aria emerged holding a closed laptop.

"I thought it wasn't going to save?"

"Yeah uh, I lied. I just wanted to keep working."

"Geez. I bet you'll be the only person in Gotham like this."

"Well, I do try to be unique!"

"Okay, we need to finish packing."

"But what about the movies?!"

"We'll watch them while we pack."

"Yay!"

-------

Five movies and two panic attacks later:

"Mooncake! Do you know where my-"

"Beanie? Downstairs in the tardis."

"Oh my gosh, thank you! I need to take a shower, are you almost finished packing?"

"Yeah, two more outfits and I'll be done."

"Kay. My phone is charging next to the window, the password is 314159, the flashy purple app turns on the TV."

With that, Aria walked out of the room and shut the door. Not even 2 minutes later, the sound of running water could be heard, along with the song 'Consideration' blasting through the house. Marinette shook her head and laughed.

"Geez Ari. Too loud."

Marinette folded the last outfit and placed it in her suitcase. Walking over to the window, she was attacked by Aria’s cat.

“Ack! Get off!”

Marinette started to try and shake the cat off and Kiro released her leg. She jumped onto the bed and yanked her legs up to avoid any further scratches. The door slammed open to reveal a soaking wet Aria in a towel. She still had soap bubbles in her hair and it had stuck to her face while she was running.

“I heard a screech! Is everything okay?”

Marinette stared for a second longer before laughing so hard she fell off the bed.

“OH MY GOSH! Did you just- holy crap! The cat just jumped on me!”

“...are you freaking kidding me? I literally jumped out of the shower to see what in the world was going on. I thought you were being abducted.”

“I’m so sorry! I just-” Marinette collapsed into another fit of giggles.

“Okay, since you’re obviously fine, I’m gonna go finish my shower. Next time, don’t screech unless it’s an emergency. Now my clothes are wet because of my idiocy. Goodbye, Little Missy Macaron.”

Aria walked out of the room, leaving Marinette to try and clean up the water mess. She just threw a towel over the puddle.

Aria walked into the bathroom while shaking her head slowly. She picked up her phone and pressed shuffle on her playlist. Once again, a song started blasting through the house.

————

Marinette grabbed Aria’s phone and unlocked it. She pressed the purple icon that Aria had told her about and clicked the red power button at the top. Nothing happened.

Right. The TV is downstairs.

Marinette sighed and checked under the bed before leaving the safety of the mattress. She picked up her two suitcases and took them downstairs. 5 minutes later, the sound of gunshots and suspenseful music coming from the living room rivaled the pop music coming from the upstairs bathroom.

—————-

Dante, Evita, and Armando came home to three girls shouting and running around, with another standing off to the side and filming. Chloe and Alya had come over to help after Aria had gotten out of the shower. Though it quickly turned into Chloe chasing Aria around and trying to get her to put on some clothes that weren’t covered in paint, and Alya filming Marinette freaking out about losing her deodorant.

“Dante! I stole your Pikachu boxers because they were in my drawers!” Aria ran past him, a disgruntled Chloe in hot pursuit.

“Why do I care?”

“Just thought you should know in case you start looking for them while I’m gone!”

“Speaking of being gone, shouldn’t you guys get going? Your flight leaves in 4 hours.”

“Crap! Evita! Do you have work soon? Can you drive us to the airport?”

“Can’t you guys just bike?”

Aria stopped and stared at Evita incredulously. Chloe didn't slow down quick enough and slammed both girls into the ground.

“Okay, we have like, 4 bags each, and the airport is like 45 miles away. ”

“Okay. I’ll take you, but I do have to work soon so we have to go now.”

“Okay. Akiv! Stop! Do you have your bags?”

“Yes, Ari.”

“Mooncake! Are you ready?”

“I NEED DEODORANT.”

“We can get some at the airport.”

“GAH! Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

The three girls ran to give Alya a hug before they left.

“Bye Als! Love you!”

“Adios, Vixen! Te Quiero!”

“Salut Alya!”

——————-

ONE EXCRUCIATINGLY LONG CAR RIDE LATER:,

Marinette, Aria, and Chloe stepped out of the Envoy and took their bags out of the trunk.

“Zai Jian, Evita! Wǒ ài nǐ!”

“Adios Mija! Te Quiero mucho!”

Aria gave Evita a hug before slinging her book bag and purse over her shoulder and pulling her suitcase over to the entrance. The girls watched the car drive off before turning and walking into the airport.

“Ay Dios Mio…”

“What?”

“Look at the lines!” Aria gestured over to about fifty people standing in front of a counter.

“Oh, mon Dieu.” 

“Um, no. Look at your tickets. We have first-class. Which is the line over there.” Chloe pointed over to a short line with only a few people.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Marinette sighed as she scanned over her plane ticket.

“Wait, really?” Aria scrambled for the small slip of paper in her wallet, accidentally dropping it.

A young male, probably around 15, picked it up. He smiled and held it out to her.

“Here you go, m’lady”

“Thanks, bro,” Aria grunted.

The boy froze for only a second, but it was long enough for her to pluck the leather contraption out of his hand and walk away with the other girls. When they were out of earshot, they all burst out laughing.

“Oh my gosh! Did you see his face when you called him ‘bro’?!”

“That was hilarious,” Aria wiped tears from her eyes.

“Welp, now we know how she keeps guys away.” 

“Who knew it was so simple?”

“No. It’s simple for me. I am the Goddess of repellent. You two are mere mortals.”

“She’s right! Oh, Great One! We are unworthy of your presence, but we beg to learn your ways!” Marinette got down on one knee, with one hand over her heart and the other being held out to Aria.

“Oh, get up Mooncake. They’re looking at us crazy again.” Chloe pulled the smaller girl onto her feet and ruffled her hair.

Marinette giggled, then bowed and took Aria’s hand. 

“I am forever indebted to you for teaching me.” She kissed the brunette’s hand before standing up straight again.

“Mooncake, I love you, but that was the weirdest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Thanks, Abelle.”

“No problem babe.”

Aria rolled her eyes. 

“Next!”

The girls looked up to see it was their turn in line.

“Please place your bags in the designated area.” The lady behind the desk gestured to a wire container.

Marinette looked to the side and placed her suitcase into the basket. The other girls quickly followed suit.

“Names?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Aria Couture.”

“Chloe Bourgeois.”

The lady typed their names into the computer before waving them away. Marinette saw the dull look in her eyes and pulled out 3 macarons before whispering something and smiling.

“Excuse me, Madame? Here are a few macarons. I hope you have a nice day!” 

Marinette picked up her bags and walked away with her friends. She didn’t miss the small smile that appeared on the woman’s face.

“So, what’d you do to the cookies?”

“Let’s just say the rest of her week will be much better.”

“Minette, I have absolutely no idea what you're implying, and at this point, I'm too scared to ask.”

————

“This is why I hate flying. I’m already exhausted and we haven’t even been at the airport for 2 hours.” Marinette groaned.

“We’re done with all the security stuff, and our suitcases are already boarding the plane, which basically means we can currently do whatever we want. And don’t you still need deodorant?”

“Ugh. You’re right. Let’s go.”

Aria grinned and walked towards a sandwich restaurant.

“Aria, where are you going? The toiletries place is over there.” Marinette pointed to a little kiosk next to the bathrooms.

“Come on. You didn’t really think we would get deodorant before we got food, did you?”

“...I am kind of hungry…”

“Let’s go then!”

Aria grabbed Marinette’s right hand and Chloe’s left hand and yanked them over to the restaurant.

——————

“Flight Number 763, First class, Now boarding.”

Aria jolted awake at the sound of the announcement. She looked over at Chloe and Marinette sleeping peacefully and contemplated waking them up. She'd rather not lose an eye, or two.

Chloe woke up as the brunette picked up a small pink bookbag.

“Good morning Chlo,” Aria yawned.

“...hi Ari.”

Grabbing all of their backpacks, she took the tickets and passports out and walked over to the admittance booth.

“Tickets please."

“Here,” Aria handed him all three tickets and passports.

 Aria looked up at the man in the booth.

“Can we go in or do you need sleeping beauty over here to confirm something,” Aria pointed at Marinette.

“Um. You can go in…”

“Thanks, have a nice day!”

The girls walked to the plane and found their seats quickly. Chloe helped Aria set Marinette down and put the carry-on bags in the capsules above them. Both girls fell back asleep about 10 minutes after they buckled up.

——————

GOTHAM:

[waitingissuchpain]

In Consult - Chapter 1

Characters: Jungkook, IU, OC, Lisa

Genre: Slowburn, Office!AU, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Smut

Pairings: Jungkook x Y/N, Jungkook x IU

Chapter 2

Plot: Eri Kim. A 20-year old fresh graduate who got accepted into her first job as a process executive. Once she was introduced to the production floor, there she met Yukio Mita. A tenured agent who was assigned to help the new hires out, including herself. Slowly as time goes by, Eri found herself being attracted to Yukio. Seems harmless right? That’s when she realizes Yukio has a girlfriend. Would she continue on with her feelings or should she back off?

It’s been a few months since I graduated from college. Already a few months since I’ve been doing nothing in life - I can now be officially called a house potato. Or maybe a pig since I’ve been eating non-stop. I haven’t been visited by the God of cleaning since my room looks like a pig’s den. I should really clean up before my grandmother nags me to death again. 

I finally get up from my bed as I start picking up the pieces of papers scattered everywhere in the room, after I blast on some music from my phone. Throwing them into the plastic bag I went and stole from my aunt’s room as I sit back down onto the bed, throwing my clothes onto it as they pile up into a big hill. Why do I own so many clothes but never find the ones I want to wear? Sighing I start to sort them out one by one, folding them neatly as I set them into one orderly pile inside my wardrobe. Smiling proudly at the small percentage of cleanliness in my room as I look towards my phone from the sudden ‘ding.’ 

“Aren’t you looking for a job? We have an opening here if you want to apply.” My aunt told me in messenger as I plopped back down onto the bed, humming at the thought. Maybe it’s time I get up and look for a job, earn some cash for the boys I’ve always wanted to see. 

“Really? Can I bring my friend with me?” 

“Sure! Just tell me both your Emails and you can come anytime and start the application.” 

Perfect timing. From what I remember, Hisa’s mom has been bugging her to look for a job here before she can live in Japan. 

“BOO! I got news, wanna come with me to apply for a new job? 😜” I say as I messaged her, laying back down onto the bed as I take a “short break” from “cleaning.”

“Fine. So I can finally tell my mom I tried to find a job. I wanna leave this country so bad.” Typical Hisa.

“Yeah yeah. So, Tuesday? See you?” 

“Yep. I’ll sleep over your place the night before and the night after.”

“K. See u” I say as i toss my phone away, looking around the evident mess still around the room. “I’m too lazy for this fuck it.” 

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

Throwing my stuff onto the floor as I sigh, jumping onto my bed as I groan. “God I really hope we get in this one, I badly need money to support my fangirling needs.” I say as I grab my phone to scroll onto my social media accounts to keep me distracted. Even though it’s about 1 in the morning. 

“If we get in, we get in. If not…. Then Lord God please give this to us.” Hisa mumbles out as she sits onto the extra bed, already fixing her overnight stuff out as she gets ready to take a shower. 

“I mean, for you it’s fine if you don’t. At Least you have a backup plan, living in Japan with your family. I, for one, really want this job.” I whine out as I curl up into a ball, still scrolling through facebook as I grin. “You think I can find a boyfriend when we start working?” I ask as I chuckle shaking my head at the thought. 

“Girl, better pray you get in before asking for the impossible.” Hisa hisses out as she grins teasingly, earning a side eye from me as I sit up from the bed. “Go and shower you stinky mushroom.” 

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

It’s the next day, Hisa already went home by herself and I’m here staring at my phone waiting for the final interview phone call from the company. 

“3:15pm...they said they’d call by 3:00pm..” I mumble to myself as I pout, already thinking of the worst as I roam my vision around my room, biting onto my lower lip nervously as I decide to message Hisa and ask if she received any call yet. 

“Do you think we failed? Like… Are they not gonna call us anymore is this the end? :(“ 

“Shhh. they said we had potential.. I’m sure they’ll call just, give it some more time.” Hisa says as I start to play with my fingers while anxiously waiting for the call. It was when I thought they really wouldn’t call back when my phone started ringing. Picking it up after the third ring as I stand up suddenly. “Hello? Yes? Yes it’s me.” I say while panting, grinning as I get the jitters running down my spine once more as the interview continues on. 

“Yes.. Yes thank you so much sir.” I say as I end the call. The interview went well - well at least to me. A few seconds after it sank into my head I decided to write to Hisa, telling her how my interview went. “God, I was so nervous, He even asked if it was a good time to call since I was panting…. But it went well overall. They’re gonna call you soon. Tell me how it goes! God I hope we get this both.” I say as I see Hisa typing, then disappearing. Hm, they must’ve called her already.

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

“Thanks for your time, Erina. We’ll text you the results within the week.”

It’s only been a day, but I’m anxious. My aunt said that it usually takes less than 24 hours for them to respond if you’re in the company or if you got rejected. God, why am I so nervous? 

Walking downstairs with my phone in my hand as I sit onto the chair, opening the TV to distract myself for some time, Hisa floods my messages. 

“Hisa sent a photo.” 

“OH.MY.GOD.”

“HoLY shIT.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

“I’M IN BITCH.”

Fuck, she got in. She got accepted. Holy fuck. 

“SHIT BIH, CONGRATS.”

“I still haven’t received mine..”

“:(“

“Shhh, maybe you just gotta find the right spot there. We both know how much of an igloo your house is. Find some signal!” Hisa says as I start losing hope. Leaning against the window as I lay my phone right beside it, refreshing it every second just in case it was coming in late. Sigh. I decide to open up the messages app hoping and praying I got a message that just didn’t notify me. 

“Diagonally: Hello! Please be advised that you have cleared the hiring process and you are now good for job offer. You are scheduled for Offer letter signing on (July 26, friday) at 11:00 AM. Proceed at 2nd flr Technology Hub Tower 4, Mckinley Hills. Don’t forget to bring a valid ID and a Pen. For confirmation, reply with your full name. -Talent Acquisition.”

Holy Fuck. I got in. I’m hired. HOLY FUCK.

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

Two months ago, all I wanted was a job. Two months ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Two months ago, I didn’t knew he existed. That was two months ago. 

[asofterfan]

Winter Winds

Chapter 1: Hot Mess

Previous ~ Next

Summary: Six years later...

Warnings: alcoholism, transphobia, enbyphobia, nbphobia, self esteem issues

No matter what ringtone they chose for their alarm, Remy would always hate it within two days.

Blindly reaching out to turn off the tortuous chimes that indicated it was time to wake the fuck up, Remy sighed heavily. Sitting up, they were faced with the familiar pounding in their skull. The glass next to their mattress was empty, so either they’d have to get up to get water, or not get water. They flopped back onto the mattress.

But within a few minutes their second alarm was chiming, drawing out a long groan as they slapped at their phone again. Fine. Time to get up apparently.

Remy sat up and stretched, scratching at the leftover body glitter on their shoulder from the night before. As they stood they gently kicked a few empty bottles out of their way.

The apartment looked different, but in reality it hadn’t changed much in the past six years. The same mattress sat in the same corner, the same old crate as a side table, the same thrift store rug and old loveseat. They never bothered to get a dresser when their suitcase worked just fine, and there were a few boxes that they had never bothered to fully unpack. Their life was layered on top in the form of posters and ticket stubs and Christmas lights and trash shoved into corners. Sketchbooks lay piled in a corner, and dirty clothes were shoved into a laundry bag, ready for whenever they worked up the motivation to go to the laundromat.

Opening a cabinet in the kitchen, Remy grabbed one of three glasses they owned, filling it with tap water and chugging it. Leaning against the kitchen counter, they fiddled with the ends of their hair. It was mid-back, the pink underside slightly faded. They’d have to re-dye it soon. The ends were dry, and split, but Remy was confident they were hot enough that no one paid attention to their neglected hair.

A third alarm started ringing from their phone. What a bitch. Groaning, Remy stalked over to their bed, snatching their phone and silencing the alarm, quickly going through and turning off all the upcoming alarms as well. They awake enough, they didn’t need an alarm every five minutes today.

Quickly swiping through their phone, Remy hit shuffle on itunes, turning the volume all the way up before tossing it on the couch. The mirror above the bathroom sink showed them the smudged remains of their makeup from the night before. Sighing, they got to work washing it off, nodding their head to the beat of the music.

Once that was finished, they halfheartedly brushed their hair before throwing it into a ponytail, and brushed their teeth. Picking up the mouthwash, they found it was empty, groaning in frustration as they remembered using the last of it the morning before. Rubbing at their eyes, still tired, Remy wandered back into the kitchen, only to return to the bathroom a moment later with a bottle of vodka. Same thing, right? Taking a swig straight from the bottle, Remy swished it around in their mouth, grimacing before spitting it into the sink. Good enough.

Remy was pretty sure they didn’t own any clothing that didn’t have holes in it, or was too small, or both, but there were still a few shirts in the ‘clean’ pile so at least they didn’t have to worry about laundry just yet. Cass once told them their style was “homeless punk”, which like…. Rude, but not inaccurate.

Pulling on their tattered boots, held together by duck tape and spite, Remy finally turned off their music. Their leather jacket was hanging next to the door, and as they slipped it on they made sure they had all the essentials- wallet, keys, phone, sunglasses, headphones, and pronoun necklace with the charm flipped to “THEY/THEM”.

Checking the time, they knew they’d have to skip their Starbucks run if they wanted to be on time to work. Luckily, Remy didn’t give a fuck about being on time.

Caffeine before capitalism, bitches.

~

“What is UP motherfuckers I am so tired.”

“You’re also late,” a tall woman, only slightly shorter than Remy, with light blue hair crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Oh come on, Ali,” A petite brunette piped in from where she was disinfecting her station, “You say that like he’s not late everyday!”

“They’re not late everyday, Cass” Remy insisted, tapping at their necklace as they sauntered over to their own station beside the shorter woman’s, “Some days I’m not scheduled,” they winked.

“Sleeeeeeeep,” Ali sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and drawing the artist’s attention again. “I get that being late is like, your trademark, but what kind of boss would I be if I just kept letting you get away with it?”

“A great one,” Remy replied without hesitation. Putting their stuff down, Remy took a long sip of coffee before continuing, “Ali, I know you’ve been stressed since you officially took over for Rachel-”

“Rest in peace,” Cass interrupted solemnly.

“Stop telling people I’m dead!” Huffing indignantly, a heavily pregnant woman appeared in the lobby, carrying a box full of beat up sketchbooks.

“Rache!” Remy exclaimed, “Tell Ali I can do whatever I want!”

“You most certainly can NOT,” Rachel asserted, moving to brace the box on her hip as she stared down her former employees, “Remy, try to bring your asshole level down to maybe 75 percent. Ali, somehow Remy has managed to keep a good string of clientele and positive reviews. Pick your battles. Cass, stop sending my wife ‘your condolences’.”

“Fiiiiiiine.”

“If you say so.”

“Killjoy.”

Rachel shook her head fondly, “Don’t destroy my shop, bitches. I’ll be back eventually.” With that, she headed to her car, leaving the others grumbling behind her. The day continued, each going about their own business, working on designs for upcoming clients, answering emails about appointments. Remy’s phone buzzed beside them, but they ignored it.

About two hours later, a man looking to be in his mid thirties with a few tattoos on his arms already came in without an appointment.

“You guys take walk ins?” He asked gruffly.

“Yeah, what were you looking to get?”

Remy sighed from their station. Brett and Rafa weren’t scheduled to come in for another hour, and Cass was in the middle of a tattoo, which meant the walk in was definitely going to be Remy’s problem.

Sure enough, Ali called them over, “Remy, I got a client for you.”

Plastering on their best customer service smile, Remy sauntered over, “Excellent, what do I have the honor of immortalizing today?”

Dear God, the man was unironically getting a Fight Club quote tattooed on his forearm. Remy almost quit then and there. Ali glared, shaking her head minutely from behind the man, her eyes promising pain if Remy was anything less than cordial. Killjoy.

Gritting their teeth, Remy smiled, “Alright, come take a look at some fonts and I’ll get you set up.”

Remy wasn’t sure if the barely legible cursive font the man chose made the quote better or worse. They decided not to dwell on it. It didn’t take long to print the transfer and get their station set up, adjusting the seat in the center for a right forearm tattoo session. The client was mostly silent as Remy lightly shaved his forearm and wiped the disinfectant over it. Once the transfer the placed, the man nodded, offering a gruff “looks good”.

“Sweet, just hold tight for one more sec, hon.”

Swiveling their stool to face the steel table beside them, Remy got to work setting up their ink, along with paper towels and bottles of water and disinfectant; gauze set to the side for when they were finished.

As they worked, the man looked Remy up and down, “So, what are you?” he asked bluntly.

It hadn’t been loud before, but an uncomfortable silence seemed to settle on the whole shop, Ali glancing over from the front desk in disbelief. But Remy was unfazed. They looked up from their equipment and raised an eyebrow, “I'm a tattoo artist, duh.”

The man rolled his eyes condescendingly, “I mean, are you a man or a woman?”

Clenching their teeth, Remy took a deep breath, “Depends on the day, but today the answer is no,” they tapped on their necklace, the purple charm with a clear “THEY/THEM” on it.

“But what are you really?”

There was a pause, the tension thick as even Cass paused her work to look over incredulously. Remy wasn’t known for their patience though. They sent the man a cold smile, leaning forward to get just a little too close, “I'm the person who's about to spend the next hour injecting ink under your skin. Really.”

Stuttering, the man’s face turned a shade of red, from anger or embarrassment Remy couldn't tell, “Are you threatening me??”

“Of course not,” Remy purred, “That would be unprofessional. But maybe you should be quiet now. So I don't… lose focus.” They buzzed the tattoo gun on and off menacingly. Some of the blood drained from the man’s face. He still looked angry, like he had a lot he wanted to say very loudly right now. But he bit the words back and nodded shortly, Remy grinning wider.

“Good boy,” the man flinched as Remy placed a hand gently on his arm, situating themselves to begin working, “Now, let’s get this party started, shall we?” There is no response. Just the buzz of the tattoo gun as Remy did their job, even when they didn’t want to.

~~

“Well,” Cass drawled as the door closed behind Remy’s client, “he’s not gonna be leaving any shining reviews.”

“Worth it~,” Remy sang cheerily. Hey, they did the tattoo and they did it well. It was the man’s own fault he got a side of attitude and malice with his tattoo.

Cass rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the design she was working on in her sketchbook. But Ali frowned, coming to stand by the opening to Remy’s cubical. She spoke softly, her words just for Remy, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he’d be a dick.”

“That’s life, hon,” Remy smirked. Ali didn’t know anyone else who could sound so cheery and so cold at the same time, “Assholes look like everyone else. They don’t wear signs. That’s why it’s best to just assume everyone is terrible until proven otherwise.”

“Well that’s a depressing way to live.”

Remy shrugged, “It’s worked well enough for me.”

Ali isn’t sure she actually believes that, but Remy turns their back to her, continuing to break down their station, everything about them communicating that the conversation was over.

There was a buzz from Remy’s phone. They ignored it.

~~

“Remy, tell Logan he’s overreacting!”

“FALSEHOOD!”

“You’re not helping your case there, sexy specs.”

Remy turned away from their computer, resting their chin on their hand as they took in the two bickering teenagers who had just arrived.

Virgil cut off Logan’s argument, still glaring at him even as he spoke to Remy, “Look, let me explain, Logan’s all in a huff just cause-”

“Nope,” Remy interrupted, holding a hand up with an expressionless gaze, “Don’t wanna hear it. I do not need unnecessary details in order to know with absolute certainty that you,” he pointed at Logan, “are overreacting-”

“HAH!”

“-and you,” Virgil’s victory was short lived as Remy’s finger shifted to point at him, “are underreacting.”

Virgil gasped indignantly as Logan started an angry “how DARE you-” rant. Remy sipped their tea and slowly swiveled their chair around until the teens were left arguing with their back. After a few minutes, Ali finally intervened and at least got them to argue more quietly until they finally let whateverthefuck they were going on about go and finally turned their attention back to Remy.

“Any new projects?” Virgil questioned as Logan draped himself across the tattoo chair in the center of Remy’s cubicle.

Remy hummed, “Not really. But I have a few consultations coming up, so maybe soon,” they tapped away at their computer, answering emails to confirm appointments and give price estimates.

Groaning, Virgil pouted, “So nothing for me?”

“Not today, gurl.”

“Uuuuuuuuugh…” he flopped dramatically on top of Logan, “now what?”

“I dunno,” Remy turned to raise an eyebrow at the pile of punks on his chair, “you’re teenage troublemakers. Go make trouble. Somewhere. Else.”

“Meh,” Logan replied, “We’ll just do homework here. We haven’t seen you in like a week.”

“Lucky you,” Remy replied without missing a beat.

“Remy nooooo,” Brett glanced up from the front desk, wide puppy eyes staring at the taller artist.

Cass’ voice was heard from the other side of the divider, “Aw great, now you’ve gone and summoned one of Brett’s positivity rants!”

“Why does no one follow the shop guidelines?” Brett asked, lip trembling as he held up the framed sign that lived on the front desk and pointed to item number four: “No Self Deprecation Allowed”

“It’s cute you think I follow rules.”

Remy continued going through their email, occasionally making notes in their calendar or sketchbook, ignoring Brett’s lecture or the giggling high schoolers behind them.

Things quieted down eventually, with the punks doing some homework assignments while the artists did their work. Remy waved casually when Logan and Virgil finally departed. Rafa emerged from the staff break room, sipping a soda and smiling as the door shut behind the high schoolers.

“Damn. Those kids really like you, Rems,” he commented fondly.

But Remy only shrugged, sipping their tea nonchalantly, “I was in the right place at the right time and they imprinted on me like baby ducklings.”

“Punklings,” Cass’ giggled from her station.

Remy snorted, but turned back to Rafa, “If you had been working that day then they’d be your ‘best friends’.”

Rafa exchanged a look with Brett before shaking his head sadly, “Eh. Agree to disagree.”

~~

Despite Remy constantly being late, they also had a tendency of staying late as well. Once they got caught up in a project they were loath to leave until it was finished. Plus, if they stayed late enough they could go straight from work to one of their favorite clubs.

As the artists finished closing up the shop, Remy sighed as their phone buzzed again. Reluctantly, they pulled the device from their pocket to glance at the messages. There were two missed calls and a text.

PopPicani: Hey kiddo! Sorry I keep missing you. You want to come over for dinner tomorrow? It’s been way too long! <3

“We’re grabbing some drinks from The Dubliner, you wanna come?”

Remy blinked in surprise as they were pulled from their thoughts. They weren’t sure why the group still asked. Every time their coworkers went out they invited Remy, and every time Remy answered the same way.

“Nah, I’m doing my own thing,” They adjusted their bag on their shoulder as they exited the building, raising a hand in farewell, “See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget, you have a consultation appointment in the morning!” Ali called after them, “10:30am! Don’t make them wait!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy responded nonchalantly, tapping away at their phone.

Sleepyhead: Sorry, been super busy lately. Maybe another time though. :) 

Pocketing the device, Remy pulled their sunglasses over their eyes, making their way into the nightlife. Alone as usual.

Just the way they liked it.

[jungkooksfingertips]

In Consult - Chapter 1

Characters: Jungkook x y/n, Jungkook x iu

Genre: Office!AU

Tags: Slowburn, Angst, Fluff, possible smut if you squint

Wordcount: 

a/n: the first few chapters of this will be based on my irl crush in my office khdkjhgkfhk the ending will be different ofcourse. unless i wanna make this heartwrenching and stick with the way it is right now.

Chapter 1

It’s been a few months since I graduated from college. Already a few months since I’ve been doing nothing in life - I can now be officially called a house potato. Or maybe a pig since I’ve been eating non-stop. I haven’t been visited by the God of cleaning since my room looks like a pig’s den. I should really clean up before my grandmother nags me to death again. 

I finally get up from my bed as I start picking up the pieces of papers scattered everywhere in the room, after I blast on some music from my phone. Throwing them into the plastic bag I went and stole from my aunt’s room as I sit back down onto the bed, throwing my clothes onto it as they pile up into a big hill. Why do I own so many clothes but never find the ones I want to wear? Sighing I start to sort them out one by one, folding them neatly as I set them into one orderly pile inside my wardrobe. Smiling proudly at the small percentage of cleanliness in my room as I look towards my phone from the sudden ‘ding.’ 

“Aren’t you looking for a job? We have an opening here if you want to apply.” My aunt told me in messenger as I plopped back down onto the bed, humming at the thought. Maybe it’s time I get up and look for a job, earn some cash for the boys I’ve always wanted to see. 

“Really? Can I bring my friend with me?” 

“Sure! Just tell me both your Emails and you can come anytime and start the application.” 

Perfect timing. From what I remember, Hisa’s mom has been bugging her to look for a job here before she can live in Japan. 

“BOO! I got news, wanna come with me to apply for a new job? 😜” I say as I messaged her, laying back down onto the bed as I take a “short break” from “cleaning.”

“Fine. So I can finally tell my mom I tried to find a job. I wanna leave this country so bad.” Typical Hisa.

“Yeah yeah. So, Tuesday? See you?” 

“Yep. I’ll sleep over your place the night before and the night after.”

“K. See u” I say as i toss my phone away, looking around the evident mess still around the room. “I’m too lazy for this fuck it.” 

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

Throwing my stuff onto the floor as I sigh, jumping onto my bed as I groan. “God I really hope we get in this one, I badly need money to support my fangirling needs.” I say as I grab my phone to scroll onto my social media accounts to keep me distracted. Even though it’s about 1 in the morning. 

“If we get in, we get in. If not…. Then Lord God please give this to us.” Hisa mumbles out as she sits onto the extra bed, already fixing her overnight stuff out as she gets ready to take a shower. 

“I mean, for you it’s fine if you don’t. At Least you have a backup plan, living in Japan with your family. I, for one, really want this job.” I whine out as I curl up into a ball, still scrolling through facebook as I grin. “You think I can find a boyfriend when we start working?” I ask as I chuckle shaking my head at the thought. 

“Girl, better pray you get in before asking for the impossible.” Hisa hisses out as she grins teasingly, earning a side eye from me as I sit up from the bed. “Go and shower you stinky mushroom.” 

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

It’s the next day, Hisa already went home by herself and I’m here staring at my phone waiting for the final interview phone call from the company. 

“3:15pm...they said they’d call by 3:00pm..” I mumble to myself as I pout, already thinking of the worst as I roam my vision around my room, biting onto my lower lip nervously as I decide to message Hisa and ask if she received any call yet. 

“Do you think we failed? Like… Are they not gonna call us anymore is this the end? :(“ 

“Shhh. they said we had potential.. I’m sure they’ll call just, give it some more time.” Hisa says as I start to play with my fingers while anxiously waiting for the call. It was when I thought they really wouldn’t call back when my phone started ringing. Picking it up after the third ring as I stand up suddenly. “Hello? Yes? Yes it’s me.” I say while panting, grinning as I get the jitters running down my spine once more as the interview continues on. 

“Yes.. Yes thank you so much sir.” I say as I end the call. The interview went well - well at least to me. A few seconds after it sank into my head I decided to write to Hisa, telling her how my interview went. “God, I was so nervous, He even asked if it was a good time to call since I was panting…. But it went well overall. They’re gonna call you soon. Tell me how it goes! God I hope we get this both.” I say as I see Hisa typing, then disappearing. Hm, they must’ve called her already.

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

“Thanks for your time, Erina. We’ll text you the results within the week.”

It’s only been a day, but I’m anxious. My aunt said that it usually takes less than 24 hours for them to respond if you’re in the company or if you got rejected. God, why am I so nervous? 

Walking downstairs with my phone in my hand as I sit onto the chair, opening the TV to distract myself for some time, Hisa floods my messages. 

“Hisa sent a photo.” 

“OH.MY.GOD.”

“HoLY shIT.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

“I’M IN BITCH.”

Fuck, she got in. She got accepted. Holy fuck. 

“SHIT BIH, CONGRATS.”

“I still haven’t received mine..”

“:(“

“Shhh, maybe you just gotta find the right spot there. We both know how much of an igloo your house is. Find some signal!” Hisa says as I start losing hope. Leaning against the window as I lay my phone right beside it, refreshing it every second just in case it was coming in late. Sigh. I decide to open up the messages app hoping and praying I got a message that just didn’t notify me. 

“Diagonally: Hello! Please be advised that you have cleared the hiring process and you are now good for job offer. You are scheduled for Offer letter signing on (July 26, friday) at 11:00 AM. Proceed at 2nd flr Technology Hub Tower 4, Mckinley Hills. Don’t forget to bring a valid ID and a Pen. For confirmation, reply with your full name. -Talent Acquisition.”

Holy Fuck. I got in. I’m hired. HOLY FUCK.

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

Two months ago, all I wanted was a job. Two months ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Two months ago, I didn’t knew he existed. That was two months ago.

[caps-gal]

Comfort Food

You opened the lid of the foil and cardboard container to inhale the scent of the spaghetti, your stomach growling loudly as you rode the elevator up to the floor where you worked. You liked how the restaurant didn't use a bunch of plastic and styrofoam for their carryout, too. It was delivered in an open top box and you were encouraged to recycle.

It had been such a shitty day, and this spaghetti was honestly a lifeline.

Drama much, Y/N? your inner bitch asked.

Get fucked, inner bitch, you replied. To yourself.

Coz that's how you were rolling that day.

It had been one of those 'kick-you-in-the-crotch-spit-on-your-neck-fantastic’ kinda days: you had overslept, missed your train, skidded to your cubicle with seconds to spare and no coffee, and then before your computer had completely booted, your phone had rang and you were called into your boss’ office.

You sighed and navigated the cubicle maze, tapping lightly on his closed door.

“Come in!” you heard him call tersely.

Sounded like you weren't the only one having a day. You opened the door gingerly. “You wanted to see me?”

“Um, yeah? Where's my budget report?” he asked snidely.

“Oh!” you said in surprise. “Well, it isn't due until Friday, so it is not finished yet.”

“I need it tomorrow, Y/L/N!” he snapped.

“The meeting isn't until Monday. You asked for it for Friday by noon. I have the email,” you said calmly.

“Well, the meeting was moved up to tomorrow. Apparently Ms. Potts has to go out of the country,” he said in yet another unpleasant tone.

“I was not made aware of a change, Brent,” you said, beginning to lose your calm.

“What am I, your secretary?”

“Of course not, but while we may have gifted people in this building who can read minds, I am not one of them,” you snapped back.

“I would advise you not to take that tone with me,” he sneered. “Now go get busy. I want that report by 8 am.”

You left his office without another word, leaving his door open as a petty, passive/aggressive F.U.

Such was the life of the Office Manager for the Intelligence Analysis Department in Avengers Tower. You had to have low-level clearance to get past the first floor without an escort, but you got kicked around like a soccer ball on a playground because you weren't actually an analyst, you just did everything else in the department. You did draw the line at fetching coffee. You had some standards.

OK, you had a standard.

So you started to frantically compile the salary, expense and discretionary budgets from the current fiscal year, added to that the numerous budget increase requests, additional position requests, training budget -- you were going to be here all night.

And every single person in the department needed something from you desperately and urgently. You were actually considering hiding in a closet with your laptop to try and get things done.

You had a reminder pop up that you had a meeting at one. The day just kept getting better.

You figured you better go and grab your lunch if you wanted to eat before the meeting. You'd be cutting it close as it was, but you hadn't had breakfast so you were already so hungry you were considering eating your own ear wax.

You hurried to the break room to grab your lunch and -- Are ya fuckin’ kidding me? you thought as you stared at the spot where you had placed your lunch. Your lunch that had been clearly labeled as YOUR LUNCH!

You must have had a look of anger and disbelief on your face because a co-worker Randy said, “Lunch thief strike again?”

“Seriously? What the hell? Who steals food that is clearly labeled? And really, does it matter if it has a name on it? DID YOU BRING IT TO WORK? Then don't eat it?” you ranted.

“Sucks,” Randy said. “You'll have to order in or something.”

“I have meetings,” you said with disdain. You sighed deeply and turned to buy a candy bar or something from the vending machine and -- “Oh, come on! Out of order? Really?”

You stomped off to get your computer and a notepad, heading to the meeting early. Maybe there would be muffins.

There were no muffins.

Three hours, two meetings, one bathroom break and no snacks later, you finally returned to your cubicle.

You needed carbs.

Screw it, you thought, pulling up Berluti's website to place a delivery order. You added bread and a bomboloni to the order.

When the security desk called to tell you your food had arrived, you almost cried in relief. You hurried down to pay the delivery person, tipping generously and smiling happily at the guard before returning to the elevator.

It was almost 5, and while most people seemed to be wrapping up for the day as you passed their cubicles and offices, you knew that you still had hours of work ahead of you. Still, you had spaghetti, extra meatballs, soft yummy bread and a decadent dessert. You could do this.

You had spaghetti.

You were walking past the conference room when the door flew open and a man stormed angrily from the room, plowing into you and not even stopping to say a word of apology.

And he knocked your life-saving spaghetti out of your hands. You hadn't closed the lid tightly and it opened and spilled all the way down the front of your clothes to land in a wet plop on your shoes.

You stood there, frozen in place with your jaw slack. Your suit, blouse and shoes were no doubt ruined. There was spaghetti all over the floor around you. You looked around for the bag with your bread and bomboloni and found it behind you, crushed under the foot of your assailant, butter and chocolate smashed out of the bag.

You realized as you dropped to your knees to try and clean up some of the mess that you had started crying. You were covered in food, none of which you could eat, starving, had nothing to change into and couldn't leave until you had finished that stupid report for your stupid boss who couldn't even be bothered to tell you that the meeting had been moved up!

You didn't realize it, but you had been muttering all of this aloud -- your inner monologue had gone rogue -- and outer!

“I have a Bachelor's degree in Accounting, a Master's degree in Public Accounting, am a CPA and a Certified Forensic Accountant and I am doing budget reports for a jackass who can barely write his name!” you continued muttering, not noticing that someone had dropped down and was helping you clean up.

You finally saw hands through your tears when yours bumped into one. You gasped and looked up and into the bluest eyes you had ever seen.

“Oh, shit,” you whispered. “I am so sorry, Captain Rogers, Sir.”

He smiled at you and said gently, “Don't worry about it. That Senator didn't like what he heard in the meeting. I'm just sorry you got caught in the crossfire, as it were.”

You scooped up the worst of the mess and started to get to your feet and Rogers jumped to his to offer you his also spaghetti-covered hand. “Thanks,” you said quietly, bending to pick up the mess and the bag of ruined bread and pastry, hiccuping a sob at the lost bomboloni.

“I'll call maintenance to come and clean up the rest,” Captain Rogers said.

“Thank you, Captain Rogers. I appreciate your help, really,” you said with a watery, tremulous smile.

“You seem like you're having a really bad day,” he said gently.

You shook your head slowly. “Nothing compared to what you deal with. Just being a whiner.”

He smiled kindly. “Did I hear you say you didn't have a change of clothes?”

You nodded. “Probably. I didn't even realize that my internal griping had gone external. Sorry.”

He held his hands up in a warding motion. “Not mad! Just wondered if you want to come up and get cleaned up and I'll find you something to wear.”

“That's really nice, but I doubt we shop in the same department,” you replied.

He laughed and he held out his hand. “I'm Steve, by the way.”

You shook his spaghetti-covered hand and said, “Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir. Though tidier and less humiliating circumstances would have been my preference.”

“Ah, none of that 'Sir’ stuff! Call me Steve.”

“Oh,” you said, surprise. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Gotta work on that,” he said with a laugh. “Come on.”

He stopped at a desk to ask someone to call maintenance to clean up the pasta mess and then led you to the elevator, asking Friday to take you to the residence level.

“You can clean up in my room and I'll go see if Nat or Wanda have anything you can borrow,” he said as he led you through a comfortable common area.

“Oh, ah,” you began.

“Don't worry, he's the original Boy Scout,” a female voice reassured you.

“Ah, Nat, I was going to see if you could help out. Y/N is an intelligence analyst and had a pasta mishap when I upset Senator Lawton and he ran her over in the hallway.”

“I'm not an analyst --” you began.

“Come with me,” she said. “We'll get you taken care of.”

Steve watched you walk away with Nat and could not take his eyes off you. He didn't know what it was about you, but he had seen you around the building and had no reason to speak to you so he had 'pined from afar,’ as Bucky was fond of telling him.

He pulled the receipt from your dinner from his pocket. He had grabbed it from your trash so that he could replace your order. It was only fair since the Senator had been pissed off by his refusal to toe the line.

It had nothing to do with him having a crush on you since you had beaten him to help a little girl that had been separated from her caregiver and knocked over by a careless bike messenger. You had been so kind and sweet to the child, soothing her tears and helping her to find her grandmother. He had wanted to talk to you that day but what could he have said?

Being Captain America had not given him game, as Sam was so fond of telling him.

So he had creeped on you, as Nat was fond of telling him.

He got out his phone and ordered from Berluti's, taking a shot and ordering double the food, hoping you would invite him to join you.

“So,” Nat began, “how long have you known Steve?”

“Oh, I don't know him. I mean, I know him but I don't know him. I know who he is, but I've never spoken to him before. He's just being nice.”

“Well, our Steve is a nice guy,” she agreed as she opened the door to her room and walked in.

“I’ll take your word for it. His persona seems nice, but I would imagine that none of you can be understood just from news stories and press conferences,” you answered as you followed her into her room. It was decorated much more softly than you would have expected in soothing tones with lots of pillows and comfy furniture. “Like I would have expected you to be all clean lines and metal and modern art from your public persona. But this is a really warm, inviting place.”

“Thank you! And you're right about most of us, but Steve -- he really is that good. He has a stubborn streak a mile wide, but he's a good man,” she said, sounding pleased. “So, how long have you been an intelligence analyst?”

“Oh, I'm not! Captain Rogers must have misunderstood. I'm just the office manager,” you were quick to point out, not wanting anyone to think you were misrepresenting yourself.

“Really? But you're a forensic accountant. Why wouldn't they utilize your abilities?” she asked, sounding shocked.

“How do you know that?” you asked in surprise.

“I make it my business to know about the people that come into this building every day. And you're the only forensic accountant in the building. Why don't they have you working money angles?”

“Preaching to the choir, sis,” you answered without thinking, then gasped and covered your mouth when she laughed.

“There we go,” Nat said. “Was starting to think you didn't have any spirit.”

“He tries hard, but Brent hasn't broken it completely,” you sighed.

“Well, I don't like the fact that we have an asset being wasted,” she said, sounding perturbed.

You shrugged. “I am but a cog,” you said with a laugh as she handed you some workout clothes.

“Will these be OK?” she asked.

“Yeah, they'll be amazing. I do not want to sit in spaghetti all night. Especially since I'm starving! Smelling it all night would be torture.”

“If you want to wash up there are towels and wash cloths in the linen closet in the bathroom,” she said.

“You are a goddess!” you gushed. “Thank you so much.”

“Just don't let Thor hear you say that!” she said with a chuckle.

You smiled and went in to clean up and Nat pulled out her phone.

Nat: OK Operation Get Steve the Girl is go. I'm talking to her and she's a delight

Bucky: Whoa! Details!

Sam: Damn, does Steve know?

Nat: Yeah, he finally got the opportunity to Prince Charming her

Nat: We'll meet up after she leaves

You came out of the bathroom then and said, “I love Berluti's but damn it feels good not to be wearing it! Seriously, thank you so much. I'll wash these and get them back to you as soon as I can.”

“Oh, no hurry. But maybe we could hang out some time? Wanda's always with Vis and Pepper is always just gone. It's be nice to have another woman around in this sausage fest, y'know?”

“Pepper! Potts! Oh I need to get my report done. But I would love to hang out! Wanna grab lunch or something this weekend?” you asked with a smile as you headed out the door.

“That sounds great! I know where to find you, I'll come by and steal you for lunch soon.”

“Sounds amazing! Thanks again, this is so nice of you!”

You hurried back to your desk, worry about your report catching up with you. And, holy shit you were hungry. You got busy gathering the data that you needed for the report. You had begun the process but since you thought you had three more days before you had to turn it in for Brent to take credit for, you had worked on it in between other duties rather than focusing entirely on it.

You had been busily typing, entering figures, creating tables, typing in HR codes to position requests, and generally making the report bulletproof. Brent didn't keep you as his underling because he liked you; you were very good at your job.

Your stomach started grumbling again. You looked down and said aloud, “Look, you just need to be quiet. I know you're hungry but there's no food until we finish this report for the Jackass.” Then you started to go back to work and thought you smelled Berluti's. “Oh my God, can I be so hungry I'm hallucinating smells?”

Steve stood a few feet behind you, caught between sighing like a teenage boy with a crush and giggling at the way you talked to yourself. He cleared his throat gently and watched you spin around, hand on your chest in surprise.

“Sorry!” he said, holding up his hands once again in a non-threatening pose, one hand holding a bag of take-out.

“Oh! Captain R -- Steve,” you said when he raised an eyebrow.

He smiled at you then at the use of his name. “Hey, since it was kind of my fault that you had to absorb your dinner through your skin,” you chuckled at that and he smiled at the warm sound, “I thought I'd replace it.”

“Oh my God, you did? I think I'm in love!” you said as you hopped up from your chair. “Yummm I feel like Pepe Le Pew floating along after a scent. Except mine is Berluti's.”

Steve laughed and said, “Let me just separate out my order from yours.”

“Oh, you got some, too?” you asked.

“Yeah, it just smelled so good.”

“Do -- do you wanna eat with me in the break room?” you asked hesitantly. “I mean you're probably busy --”

“No! I mean yes! I mean, I'm not busy. I'd love to have dinner with you,” he said with a shy smile. Rogers, you are such a dork!

“Well, that sounds like the best thing to happen to me all...year,” you said, returning his shy smile.

Nat, Sam and Bucky watched the two of you on a security camera monitor, popcorn in hand.

“She's as hopeless as he is,” Sam said, tossing some popcorn into his mouth.

“Nobody’s as hopeless as he is,” Bucky said, shoveling some popcorn into his own face.

“I think they're cute,” Nat said with a smile, switching the camera over to the break room. “And I hope they hit it off, because I like her.”

“You just want another girl around,” Bucky accused. “You already outnumber us.”

“Only in IQ points, Barnes.”

“Ouch,” Sam hissed. “Turn the sound up. Let's see if he nudges her a meatball with his nose.”

So his three best friends watched the two of you have dinner and awkward conversation together, delighting in Steve's painful chit chat topics and your equally gawky rejoinders.

It was magical.