#and i intend to make you all suffer until my team either takes the cup or bows out

[darcymariaphoster]

I love that embellishment is a penalty call in hockey. Like, "Oh, yeah, we saw the initial penalty. But it wasn't that bad of a hit." And then the player gets a two minute timeout for bad acting.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Together 7: First lash.

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CW: explicit language and content, multiple whumpees, torture, captivity, restraints, vomit, beating, blood, welts, hunger/starvation, conditioning, dehumanization, multiple whumpers, masked whumper (clown mask), letmeknowifimissedany

They’re taking her out when I wake up. She goes quietly. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. My empty stomach is nauseatingly sour. I pace the small room. The basement floor is damp like it’s absorbing moisture from below. I think about last night. Who knows how long she was silently crying. If she’s not going to talk, I should wait until I can see her face to make sure I don’t upset her again. I don’t know who these people are or why I’m here. I hate to think what it means if someone like her, so innocent and fragile, is here and acts like that.

I follow her example and cooperate when they collect me in their ski masks even though they put a pillowcase over my head and for all I know she’s never coming back. They take me into a room down the hallway and the floor is the same concrete the whole way. I keep having to swallow. My saliva feels thick and I can’t seem to get it out of my mouth no matter how much I gulp it down.

Heavy hands force me to my knees and pull my hands over my head. They bind my wrists in restraints, tightening them until I can feel the places the cotton padding has been worn down and the leather bites into my skin. I can’t help but picture her delicate wrists as the ones that broke them in. They do the same to my ankles, trapping me in an L-shape before pulling off the pillowcase and leaving me in the dark. It smells like metal. I think I’m chained to the floor and ceiling but there’s not a single link of slack.

I vomit thick spit and bile onto the floor. My stomach continues heaving even when all that’s left is saliva dragging its way down my lower lip. It sticks to my chin when I whip my head up at the sound of the door opening. I see a silhouette before they close us into darkness. A few seconds later, a light comes on. He’s dressed exactly like the others except, instead of a ski mask, he’s wearing a clown mask. We used to put on the scary versions with bloody, unnatural mouths and wrinkles in the rubber at the team house for the Halloween party every year, snaking the hose up the neck opening to do keg stands.

His mask is just smooth white with downturned eyes and a cartoonish smile—definitely worse than Twisty. It must be lined with black mesh because I can’t see anything underneath. He stands there, jeering at me. My tongue feels like a rock and my throat is still thick. I don’t know if I should say there’s been a misunderstanding or beg or just stay silent. I go with the latter, hoping that maybe that her silence is strategic. I try not to think about her spending any time here. He takes slow, measured steps forward to pick something up, let’s it unroll so I can see. All the moisture feels gone. I can’t even swallow.

I count the first handful of swings, still managing to stay quiet except for my breath. They’re burning and sharp.

When I lose count, I start begging, “Please stop, please I’ll do anything, please!!”

The welts begin to layer themselves into a blazing, throbbing ache.

“What do you wan—nnghh—”

I can’t breathe, my face is covered with spit, snot, and drool as I scream. The air doesn’t seem to reach my lungs but I know it’s there because it’s against my legs and the belt slices through it audibly with each swing.

I’m openly sobbing now. “I don’t even know why I’m h—agghhh—”

I dissolve into pleading incoherently. There’s a moment, between each blow, as the belt drags across the back of my calves, that a wild part of my mind panics that they’re gone completely because it doesn’t feel right, the whisper sensation, even pulling through the rawness, after the sharp pain. Eventually, it changes when the leather starts to drag through blood.

—

Something touches my face and I lash out. She’s already keeping her distance so, thankfully, I don’t hit her before I realize where I am.

“M’sorry,” I croak, trying to focus on her face. I can’t let myself focus on anything else.

She’s sitting on her heels, pressed into the corner between her bed and the cabinet, her fingers twisted together. When I meet her gaze, she leans forward, resting her elbows on the floor, lowering herself into my line of sight. Her wide eyes are puffy and rimmed with red.

I hate to think of her crying again.

She tilts her head to the side, gaze slipping from my face to my legs. When she looks at me again, she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth.

I don’t know if I can push myself up to really look. My head still feels heavy and clouded, either from the pain or from however long it has been since I last ate. I look over my shoulder as best I can, head aching when my eyes reach the limit of their range of motion. My calves are wrapped in clean white gauze and so are my feet. The borders of the pain had been so blurred, I had no idea it included my feet.

“S’not so bad,” I mumble.

I look back at her, too fast, and my head swims.

“Mnnnm,” I groan, squeezing my eyes shut.

When I open them after a few breaths, she’s holding a cup of water. Tilts it gently against my lips so I don’t have to move. She gets me a second cup when I finish.

“Thank you, Doll,” I say, smiling what I hope is a non-threatening smile.

She dips her head once in a nod and looks me over again, bites her lip.

“What is it?” I ask, even though I’m guessing she won’t answer.

Her eyes look up to the bed.

There’s only one reason I’m not screaming in pain and that’s because I am not moving. I can pretend that the pain is a separate entity, far away. If I move, it will migrate, overbearing and all-consuming.

“I think I’ll just spend the night here,” I say casually like I’m just going to stay at my parents’ because I don’t feel like driving back to campus. I wonder if they even care that I’m missing.

She purses her lips and looks down at the floor.

It’s wet. I know this. I can feel that my clothes are damp but it’s just as likely sweat. It doesn’t feel particularly dirty even though I’m sure it’s also not clean.

“Sweetie, I don’t think I can move,” I whisper.

That doesn’t go over well. She seems so distraught by the idea. Her eyes flick all over the room like she’s hoping to suddenly find some other way to help me as she presses her trembling lips together. I find myself willing to undergo a little suffering if there’s any chance it will comfort her.

“Okay, hey—I’ll give it a try,” I offer, unconvincing in my attempt to sound light. I start pushing myself onto my hands and knees.

She rushes to help me even though she flinches away from me and I’m pretty sure I could overlap my fingers, maybe even twice, around her upper arm. I get my body onto the bed and then she proves herself stronger than she looks when she lifts my legs, one at a time, so I don’t have to.

I’m still winded and dizzy by the time I get up there. I’ve never felt so exhausted.

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” I manage to huff.

That earns me a twitch of her lip. The closest thing I’ve seen to a smile since we met.

She brings me another cup of water. Helps me drink and then gently sweeps my hair off my forehead so she can dab a cool cloth there. She refolds the towel and leaves it draped over the back of my neck before moving to sit on her bed. She tucks her feet underneath her legs and starts playing with her hair. She finds a braid, undoes it, and seperates it into two even smaller braids, quickly, over and over. I fall asleep watching her long, nimble fingers.

—

She wakes me up later, or maybe it’s the next day, with another wet cloth but the first thing I notice is that I can smell food. Her gaze directs me to the two soups sitting on the metal cabinet but she looks back at me, furrowing her brow.

“I think I can sit up,” I say, guessing her concern.

She holds onto my shoulders as I do it, even though if I went down she’d go with me. I sit with my knees up and gingerly place my feet on the mattress in front of me. It seems they only caught stray lashes, so they aren’t feeling nearly as awful as my calves. I lean my head against the wall to catch my breath. I’m sweating and dizzy from the movement, I need to eat.

She comes to sit next to me with the soup, clearly intending to feed it to me with the plastic spoon.

I smile at her. “You’re such an angel—you don’t have to do that.”

She shakes her head, looking down, like she doesn’t mind, but passes me the soup anyway.

About halfway through scarfing it down, she reaches over to rest her fingertip on the handle of my spoon before I can use it to shovel more into my mouth.

“Oh, I should probably eat slower…”

She dips her head once in a nod, then looks down at her hands.

“You should eat, too, while it’s still hot,” I tell her.

Her dark eyes trace my posture and search my face.

I insist, “I’m feeling much better, I promise. Please eat.”

She turns and I notice the whole side of her face is bruising. It wasn’t there before, they must have taken her while I was asleep. Even the corner of her eye looks bloodshot.

“Hey, your face—” I say, reaching out without thinking.

She flinches out of reach so fast that she falls onto the ground, eyes locked on my hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly, trying to keep my voice soft. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Honey. I swear I won’t hurt you.”

She swallows, still cowering on the floor, her lower lip trembling. She’s so afraid and skittish, with those impossibly wide eyes that do something to me.

I wait for a few more breaths but she still hasn’t recovered. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

My question seems to make it worse. She closes her eyes, her face growing lined, and her breathing starts to silently hitch. She’s crying.

“Hey, hey,” I murmur. I have no idea how to comfort her when I have no idea what she’s been through and I’m the idiot making it worse. “Please, it’s okay. It’s just you and me. We’re alright, Love.” I don’t even know her name so I keep calling her nicknames, feeling even more insensitive because maybe it’s coming off wrong. I don’t know what else to do. This is so messed up.

She blinks at me, finally meeting my eyes again, fresh tears still falling from hers.

My throat aches. “Look, really, I’m sorry. Please, come eat with me. I promise I won’t hurt you—I won’t touch you. Will you sit next to me again?” I sound desperate.

After a few more breaths, she does, coming to perch on the edge of my bed within arms reach but just barely, like a bird about to fly away.

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Taglist: @deluxewhump

[yeochikin]

egg tarts. | s. mingi

a/n: thank you for requesting this fic, anon! i do apologise if it is not exceeding to your expectations. but still, i hope you enjoyed this! also, this is not proofread so do excuse any mistakes in this! this is also a long read, 10k words!! so i really hope you guys will like this ✨💖

to say that today was a bad day would be an understatement yet saying that it would be the worst day of your life could be too exaggerated as well. but all you know is that you wanted to go back home and let sleep take over your exhausted body as soon as you jumped into the plush mattress of your bed, wrapped into a cocoon made with your soft blankets. all you wanted today was for everything to go smoothly like it always had been, but life managed to just laugh and add a little spice to it just to stir things up. 

you had the worst sleep last night, courtesy of your neighbour next door who somehow just decided that it was a good idea to rearrange all of their furniture in the ass crack of dawn which had caused you to not only have a little amount of sleep for the night. that wasn’t it, oh no. life would always add a few sprinkles here and there. as if having little hours of sleep, someone had bumped into you during your morning run and spilled their drink onto your pants. you would have cursed the person out but instead, you just made a run for it to run to campus.

like some type of cherry on top, your literature lecturer, professor kim, seemed to think that it was a good idea to suddenly drop a project that was due in two weeks.your professor thought that it would be a good idea to make up an entire storyline with the elements of what he had taught your class. of course it wasn’t bad but for a huge procrastinator like you? it might be a huge nightmare, considering that you had more assignments at hand from your other classes. yet, that wasn’t the core of your dread. 

professor kim just had to pair you up with one of the most obnoxious boys in your class, song mingi.

“i swear, professor kim either hates me or he just really likes to see me suffer.” you groaned into the palm of your hands, both elbows rested on top of the table you and your best friends, yeosang and wooyoung, were sitting at. yeosang could only look at you in a pitiful manner with his large hand patting the top of your head, while wooyoung cackled out next to you.

ah yes, song mingi. the boy that could come straight out of a cliche love story. The boy who was a part of the basketball team of your campus, also known as the captain of the team. the boy everyone loved yada-yada. of course you didn’t hate him, oh no. let’s just say that if mingi were to have his toe being stubbed, you would be the furniture that he stubbed against. So, no, no hard feelings at all.

okay maybe there was some sort of.. unpleasant feelings (as what you had claimed it) between the two of you. 

believe it or not, mingi and you used to be close friends during middle school and high school. you remembered the time where you would always wait for mingi during your lunch with him, knowing how he could take his time during his meals, yet you didn’t mind. sometimes, some of his friends would even join the both of you at your usual table. you would always fill the time by doing your own work or even making some random conversations with him and his friends. truly, you enjoyed spending your time with him. it was after the first half of your final year in high school, was where it started. ever since he joined the basketball team, he had gotten together with a girl that was part of the cheering team. don’t get me wrong, she was nice! everyone seemed to love her sweet nature, and she would even join you and mingi during lunchtime. surprisingly, despite being in a relationship with her, they weren’t too big on the pda. you would be lying to say that you didn’t have a small crush on a certain tall boy but as a good friend, you supported them.

it was during a couple of months before you graduated that the two of you seemed to drift apart. you had tried to contact him yet, it was either a simple one worded answer or none at all, until the two of you finally stopped contacting each other. you would even catch mingi in the hallways talking to his friends, his girlfriend at his side as usual, and tried to make a conversation. but every time you did, he looked at you with an unreadable expression, face all stoic while his friends looked at you in pity. to say you were confused, would be an understatement. it felt as if you were kept in the dark. this went on until it was finally the time where you bid goodbye to your old school and start a new page in your life, your university life.

to your surprise, the two of you had enrolled in the same university. you went to greet him one time with a huge smile on your face but.. he merely looked past you, much to your disappointment. you’ve tried to greet him a few more times after that, and still received the same reaction. like any other person who needed some closure, you had confronted mingi one time when you ran into him in the hallways of your campus to ask what happened to him, to the both of you. you had hoped you could get some valid answers from mingi, hoping that the two of you could ever reconcile once again and go back to being friends who dragged lunch time in the cafeteria.

but there was none. 

mingi merely looked down at you, some type of coldness was held in his eyes, at least from what you remember. without even a word, he walked past you as if you never even asked a question. thus, that was all it took for you to finally accept that he is no longer a part of your life anymore, making the emotions inside you to be all jumbled up, you becoming overwhelmed.

it was now that whenever you see mingi, all of those memories would come rushing back to you. the memories that only made you choke up on your tears from how easily he had thrown them out of the window, just like that. before you know it, the sadness in your chest you felt every time you saw mingi around campus somehow grew into a ball of anger. it also didn’t help due to the fact that mingi is in the same major as you, so whenever you had class with him, you made sure to sit as far away from the tall boy as possible and hopefully, not interact with him at all.

until today.

“oh come on, y/n. i’m sure it won’t be that bad.” wooyoung reassured, pulling you away from the brief time of reminiscing the past, yeosang humming in response.

“who knows? maybe the two of you could finally get that closure.” the blonde male continued.

you merely deadpanned at the two of them, “or i could be the one doing all of the work for this project.” 

wooyoung rolled his eyes at your answer before looking down at his phone. “oh crap, i should get to class, professor park would have my head if i’m late!” 

with the claim, the three of you started to gather your things. you were about to bid goodbye to the two of your bestfriends and head to your respective classes until a deep voice called out your name, your whole body feeling a flash of chills running down your spine. you knew who that voice belonged to all too well. 

before you responded to him, you gave yeosang and wooyoung a reassuring smile, watching as the two boys stared between you and mingi for a few seconds before walking off, wooyoung mouthing at you to text him when you were done.

“what is it, mingi?” you finally said, arms folded in front of your chest as you faced the tall male, feeling the growing anger just bubbling up in your chest.

said boy rubbed the back of his neck with his hand while the other one was hidden in the pocket of his pants, “so.. we got paired up for this pr-”

“ah, yes. tell me something more obvious, mingi.” you cut him. of course, you did not intend to have snapped at him but how could you not from what he did?

mingi, on the other hand, was taken aback by your sudden sassiness before exhaling through his nose, “can you just remain civil for a bit?” he grumbled, only making your eye twitch before scoffing at his words.

“me? why don’t you give that advise to yourself.” you hissed.

“fuck, y/n. i have no time for this.” mingi groaned and ran his hand through his hair.

“me too, so tell me now instead of making me late for cla-” your words died down as you felt a large hand cupping your mouth, effectively shutting you up. with eyes still glaring daggers at the said boy, you raised an eyebrow at him, mingi taking it as a cue for him to finally start talking.

“i know that you will hate working on this project with me but if we want those points we gotta work together on this or we won’t even get to continue this class.” he started, you listening to him intently though still glaring at him.

“so, what do you say about getting that project started after our classes today? in the library?” he continued, teeth sinking down against the soft muscle of his lower lip, albeit nervously. 

it took you a little while to process his words. from the months of not talking to each other and cold glares being thrown every now and then, what gave him the audacity to come up to you and ask this as if nothing ever happened? you could feel blood rushing to your face out of frustration. but, as much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. whether you like it or not, he is still your partner for this project. 

your tense shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, a hand slowly moving mingi’s hand away. with a heavy sigh leaving your lips, you nodded your head and tugged on the strap of your bag, adjusting it on your shoulder. 

“fine. in the library after classes then, don’t be late.” was the last thing you said and brushed past him, heading to your class.

as soon as you were sure that you’re out of mingi’s vision, you felt your legs give out, yet not to the extent of collapsing completely right on the floor. your breathing was ragged as you tried to calm yourself from the sudden crash of emotions hitting right then and there, a hand quickly reaching up to muffle the quiet whimpers you released, feeling the concerned eyes from the other students passing by you, hushed whispers being exchanged with their friends yet you were too overwhelmed to care. 

you don’t hate him. you never hated him. yet why did he do that? why would mingi just shut you out all of the sudden and suddenly started talking to you so casually? you don’t know. but will you ever find out the reason why he acted like he had?

finally having yourself composed, you took a deep breath before standing up, walking off to your next class with one thing left in mind as you did so.

maybe yeosang was right, maybe you’ll soon have that closure from mingi.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“are you guys up for milkshakes at the diner?” wooyoung asked, running his fingers through his now messy hair from his habit of running through them numerous times, as soon as he saw you walking out of your last class with yeosang leaning against the wall next to him.

yeosang shrugged his shoulders, “i don’t see why not. y/n?” 

you, on the other hand, was staring blankly on the floor, only looking up in shock once wooyoung slung an arm around your neck to catch your attention.

“huh? what?” 

“we asked if you were up for milkshakes later.” yeosang repeated, his brow raised from the distracted look on your face. “you good?” he asked.

“yeah, you’re kinda out of it. wait, it’s because of mingi, isn’t it? let me beat his a-” wooyoung said, rolling his sleeves before starting to walk, only to be abruptly dragged by yeosang by his collar to where you were standing.

“as much as i wanted you to do so, i don’t think it’ll solve anything, no?” you joked, an attempt to lighten up the mood with a shake of your head.

“though i’m gonna have to sit this one out, guys. mingi and i are supposed to be discussing the project today.” you continued, a small pout on your lips from not being able to hang out with the two boys.

wooyoung and yeosang looked at each other then at you, “you’re actually starting your project early at least.” yeosang said.

cue the sounds of a gentle slap on his arm from you and the sound of wooyoung’s high pitched laugh. 

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

your foot tapped against the floor impatiently before looking down at your phone to check your phone. you had been waiting in the library for almost two hours now so where the hell is mingi? your eyes looked around the place and saw some students popping in and out yet still no sign of a certain tall male. with a frustrated huff, you slowly gathered your things, convinced that mingi had somehow blew you off. 

just as you got up from your seat, the doors suddenly burst open, and in came a panting and not to mention, sweaty, mingi. his eyes frantically looked around the library until he finally spotted you in the corner of the library, quickly making his way towards you. upon arriving, he literally collapsed on the chair in front of you, taking deep breaths to catch his breath. raising an eyebrow at him, you were about to ask what took him so long until he raised a finger as if to give him a moment, still panting. you could only roll your eyes and decided to sit back down in your seat, waiting for him to calm down.

“sorry, i had a last minute meeting with my teammates and the coach.” mingi managed to say between his pants. for the captain of the basketball team, he sure seemed like he was struggling for air.

you waited for him to finally calm down his breathing with a finger tapped against the table, eyes looking everywhere but the male in front of you awkwardly. how could someone not be awkward with their supposedly close friend who suddenly dropped them without telling them anything, was in front of them. your nerves were getting the best of you and made you fidget in your seat, much to mingi’s attention.

“you alright there, y/n?” he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

‘why did you do it?’ was what you wanted to ask yet it remained stuck in your throat as your eyes were met.

you felt a huge lump threatening to form in your chest, wanting nothing but to just bombard him with questions of what had happened to make him treat you like the way he did, what did you ever do to him, or what had happened to the friendship you both built. yet, you just couldn’t ask him. no, it was more like, you weren’t ready to know the answer. not now, not when you’re letting your emotions almost get the best of you.

“y/n?” mingi called out again, a flash of concern shown in his features.

“huh? oh, yeah. definitely.” you rambled, sitting straight in your seat before clearing your throat, “should.. should we get started?” you offered, busying yourself by taking out your laptop.

mingi could only study your expression for a few seconds before nodding his head without another word before scooting a little closer so the two of you could finally start discussing about the said project, giving each other certain tasks to do. you would have to say, keeping your mind on the project you were working out seemed to be effective in taking your mind away from the gnawing thoughts in the back of your mind, yet a different type of frustration was instead being replaced, a certain feeling that students from all around the world knew all too well. everything was going smoothly, the both of you managed to discuss most parts of your project yet somehow you were stuck on how to actually start with the storyline.

“mingi, for the last time, we can’t suddenly put two of the characters in the script to suddenly start fighting right at the start.” you groaned, rubbing your face in the palm of your hands. with a roll of his eyes, said boy aggressively pressed onto the keys of your keyboard to erase the sentence he had started. 

“uh huh, you say that yet you apply that in real life.” he grumbled underneath his breath, to which made your eye twitch out of annoyance.

“i don’t do that, what are you talking ab-” you started until mingi deadpanned at you.

“when i asked you about this project? or did you hit your head on your way here that you forgot all about it?” he retorted, to which made you scoff out of disbelief.

“if you weren’t being an ass, i wouldn’t do so.” you snapped, clicking your tongue as you snatched your laptop away from him to work on your part.

“says the one who looked like they were about to bite my ass earlier.” 

a loud slap on his arm reverberated throughout the library along with mingi’s yelp that came along with your neverending bickers afterwards, only for the librarian coming up to warn the both of you to keep it down or else she will have to kick you out.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“you going back home?” mingi suddenly asked, his eyes watching you pack your things. 

the both of you decided to stop the discussion after a couple of hours, agreeing to meet back in the library the next day to finally get a work on the storyline after finally being able to write out some outlines. fixing the strap of your bag, you raised an eyebrow at him from the sudden inquiry. 

“what does it look like?” you answered, though there was a bite in your tone, mingi disregarded it.

“calm down, for fuck’s sake.” he rolled his eyes before getting up from his seat. “i just thought that i could accompany you when you head back.” he offered, much to your surprise.

“ain’t really a good idea to let you walk alone, it’s getting a little dark.” mingi continued, nodding his head towards the windows, to which made you look out.

mingi was right. the sky was turning dark, only a few traces of crimson were apparent in the darkened sky. it didn’t help with the fact that your apartment took a little while to get to by foot. turning back to look at him, you narrowed your eyes up at him.

“how do i know you are not planning to kill me?” you asked, mingi poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek, amused. 

“and what will i even do? knock you out with a basketball?” 

the response was enough to make you snort, a hand coming up to cover your lips to release a faint chortle. the corners of mingi’s lips twitched up ever so slightly from your reaction, a little familiar tug was felt in his chest. he won’t lie. he had missed seeing your smile. he had missed making you laugh. hell, who was he kidding? he missed everything about you. so why was he acting all cold to you? why was he acting like an ass whenever you tried to greet him before?

from your side of the view, you were clueless. But to mingi, somehow he was the conflicted one. he remembered the time when he was on a date with his ex girlfriend in the past. he had recalled the time whenever you and him hung out during lunchtime, he had to deal with the girl whining as to why you would be at their table right when you left the table to head to class. confused, he had explained that you had always been hanging out with him during lunch time, much to the girl’s dissatisfaction. the girl merely complained that she felt threatened, thinking that you were out to steal him away from her. 

it took mingi to put two and two together to realise the situation he was in. he needed to pick a side. It was either his… ‘sweet’ girl or you who was always there for him through thick and thin. but to a lovestruck mingi? he simply chose the girl, listening as she would insult you behind your back to mingi and how she mentioned you were only around him to date one of his friends, even to the extent of not making mingi interact with you in any way possible. hence, the dirty looks he sent you every time you tried to talk to him back then. his friends had noticed the tense atmosphere and decided to confront mingi about it, saying how she was controlling him and how he shouldn’t just drop you because of her. this only led up to a heated argument between mingi and the boys.

fast forward to being in uni, he had finally broke the relationship off with the girl, having enough of her controlling side. the male was surprised that you enrolled in the same university as him, being in the same major even. but.. he couldn’t talk to you. no, he chose not to interact with you at all. it was the guilt that was eating him alive that made him avoid you at all costs, instead, focusing on basketball with all of his practices and games to keep his mind off of you. It was his teammate and one of his close friends he made during his time here, yunho, advised mingi that he should at least give you some closure instead of letting you stay confused and wonder what you had done wrong. the amount of times he had tried to approach you, he chickened out. every time he wanted to approach you, the words were stuck in his throat. he just couldn’t face you. 

that was until, today.

“mingi?” you called out, mingi looking up at you with wide eyes. 

“yeah?”

“you ready to go?” you asked.

“oh.. oh, yeah! right, let’s go.”

with a confused gaze set on the male in front of you, you shrugged it off before walking out of the library with him.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

the walk to your place was a little awkward, mingi looking around everywhere but you, and you leading the way. thankfully, the street lights and neon signs from a few shops here and there were already lit up, so the walk back wasn’t that long. however, the previous thoughts you had started to appear in your head once again, the same heaviness filling your chest. It was when you both stopped at a playground, just a little further away from your block, you called out mingi’s name softly.

you want to ask him. no, you need to.

hearing your voice, mingi turned to look at you, raising his brows as if to say you had his attention. you looked over at the swingset and pointed at it.

“can.. can we sit there for a bit? please?” you asked, mentally slapping yourself from the slight quiver in your voice as you spoke.

confusedly, mingi merely shrugged his shoulders before making his way towards the swings, sitting down on one of them, then looking up as you sat on the swing next to his. silence hung over the two of you, only the occasional squeaking from the rusty chains of the swings could be heard.

‘come on, ask him. you need that closure!’ your mind screamed, you heaving out a shaky breath.

mingi, upon hearing your sigh, furrowed his brows in confusion and concern before asking softly if you were okay, or if you were feeling faint. you slowly shook your head as if to reassure him you needed a moment, to which, mingi quietly complied. with a shut of your eyes, trying to ease the growing anxiety just bubbling up in the pit of your stomach, you took in a few deep breaths. once you were ready, you parted your lips to speak.

“i’m sorry.” 

your head snapped to the side to look at mingi with wide eyes, not expecting him to be the first to say something. the words that you at least wanted to hear from him. mingi’s gaze was set on his feet, teeth gently chewing against his lower lip. your throat felt like someone was squeezing onto it, feeling as if all of the emotions you felt from all the pent up frustrations slowly started to pour out. 

“why did you do it?” you asked, mingi’s heart aching from how shaky it was, somehow feeling how broken it was. and it was all because of him. 

it was when he finally explained everything to you that made you feel as if time had stopped. from how the girl was spreading something about you behind your back, to poisoning mingi’s love struck mind, and to the breakup they had. Your mind was all over the place the longer you listened, heart starting to beat rapidly in your chest as your breathing grew ragged, vision slowly turning red. 

so this was the reason? this was the reason why he was avoiding you ever since high school? thinking you would steal and date his friends? this was the reason that made you think that there was something wrong with you? your eyes welled up with tears of anger, laughing in disbelief before abruptly getting up from the swing to stand in front of mingi, eyes all glossed with fresh tears, along with hurt that was apparent in them.

“that’s it? you avoided me in high school and our time in uni just to believe her words?!” you whispered shakily, clenched fists at your sides. mingi looked up at you in alarm and stood up as well, he called out your name softly.

“y/n..” he started.

“no… no! mingi, did you fucking know how i felt? did you know how many nights were spent thinking that there was something wrong with me? did you even know how hurt i was for you to suddenly drop me like some type of a doll?!” you yelled, tears now cascading down your cheeks, mingi pleading for you to listen to him.

“and you even listened to someone you just met in the span of a few months? and not only that, but implying ever so slightly that i’m some type of whore just to date your friends?” you ranted.

“y/n.” mingi whispered.

“no, mingi! you even had the chance to explain it to me right AFTER you guys broke up, so why didn’t you? were your friends all in on this as well? is that why i was kept in the dark-” 

“i wanted you to hate me! i couldn't live with the fact how selfish i was for choosing her over you, so i purposely avoided you to make you hate me more. i’m guilty!” mingi yelled back, effectively cutting you off.

silence.

it felt as if everything around you was muted, mingi’s last words the only thing ringing in your ears repeatedly. said male’s breathing was ragged from the sudden outburst, his torso heaving up and down. you pinched the bridge of your nose and sank your teeth down against the plush muscle of your lower lip, before looking up at him.

“do you have any idea how fucking stupid this is?” you said, suddenly feeling too exhausted as you gathered your things, swinging your bag over your shoulder.

“y/n, you don’t have to forgive me but.. i just wanted to let you know that i missed you.” mingi responded, his hand holding onto your wrist. 

once again, you felt a fresh wave of tears flooding your vision. you wanted to say that you missed him too. you missed hanging out with him during lunch. you missed laughing at his lame jokes. you missed everything about him.

you missed song mingi.

you wanted to say those words out loud but not even a whisper could be heard. it was when you felt a large hand wiping away the lone tear rolling down your cheek managed to steal your attention away from your now jumbled up mind, looking up at mingi who was staring down at you with a hopeful look in his eyes. the two of you stared at each other, as if waiting for the other to say something. with a low sigh, you finally broke the silence.

“i missed you too, mingi but.. after all of this? i’m hurt, mingi.” you whimpered out, taking a deep breath a few times to stop yourself from breaking down once again. 

“i’m sorry, y/n. i really am.” mingi whispered, eyes casted down on the wrist in his large hand.

“i might not be able to forgive you now. but if you really do want us to start over again.. you need to prove it. mere words are not enough.” you continued as you slowly moved his hand away from your wrist.

“and how do i do that, y/n? i’ll do anything, please.” mingi asked, desperation glinted in his eyes as he tried to reach for your wrist again, to which you took a step back.

“that’s for you to find out, mingi.” checking the time on your phone, you emitted a soft sigh before sending him a faint smile.

“i’ll.. see you tomorrow.”

and with that, you turned around to leave, leaving mingi standing there alone while watching your retreating figure head off to the apartment’s direction. a wave of mixed emotions hitting you like some type of a tidal wave, coming all at once. now that you finally had closure, were you relieved? were you disappointed? you were not sure. but all you know, is that you feel as if a huge weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. 

meanwhile, a heavy sigh was heaved from mingi’s lips before he looked up at the sky, the stars hanging on the canvas of the night sky.

“i promise i won’t let you down again this time, y/n.” he whispered, staring at the sky for a little longer before turning around to leave as well.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“that’s it, i’m gonna beat his ass!” wooyoung yelled out, only to be dragged back by yeosang to make him sit back down in his seat, other hand holding onto a chicken wing he was eating. of course, you had expected his reaction after you told them what had happened yesterday.

“wooyoung, i swear, he’s just gonna step on you like some type of bug.” the blonde deadpanned, wooyoung pouting in response as he sulkily sipped on his drink.

“guys, please. i’m conflicted.” you groaned, smacking your forehead on the table, yeosang grimacing at the soft thud your forehead had made against the surface before shaking his head. 

“give it time, hm? though, valid. but who knows?” he took a bite from his chicken then continued. “maybe he really does wanna make it up to you?” 

there was a reason why you and wooyoung had called yeosang the reasonable one of the group. he was the one who kept giving some more options before wooyoung or you did anything rash out of impulse. 

“and if he’s not doing that, then i would have to talk to him.” wooyoung grumbled, teeth biting down on the straw he’s chewing. 

of course, a friend group wouldn’t be complete if the chaotic one of the group is not present. and that role would be given to wooyoung, the life of your little circle.

“speaking of the devil..” yeosang mumbled underneath his breath, eyes focused on something, or rather, someone from behind you. 

you paid no attention to it, only keeping your head on the table as you were fighting with your inner thoughts. it was only when a familiar deep voice called out your name that you immediately lifted your head to look at the owner of the voice. however, as you did so, your whole body seemed to jump in place, causing your knees to hit against the table. hard.

a string of curses flew out of your lips, hands rubbing against your poor kneecaps, much to yeosang and wooyoung’s amusement, both boys clamping their mouths shut and started to look around everywhere in the cafeteria but you as an attempt to hold in their laughter. you sent them a glare until mingi mumbled your name.

“you okay there?” he asked, eyes full of concern.

you still didn’t want to look at him, instead keeping your gaze on your knees. you swear you can feel them still throbbing from the impact. 

“what is it, mingi?” 

“can i… can i join you?” he asked out of the blue, making you look up at him in shock. it was only now that you noticed that he was holding a paper bag in his hand while the other held a duffel bag, probably filled with extra clothes for basketball practice later.

wooyoung was about to deny his request until yeosang pinched his thigh, effectively shutting the boy up. with a glare from him, wooyoung huffed underneath his breath yet he behaved, though subtly glaring up at mingi’s way. for some reason, his anger reminded you of a chihuahua.

“oh, what about your friends?” you asked, you didn't hold any malice in your tone, but you were just genuinely curious as to why he had suddenly come up. though to mingi, he flinched at your question as he rubbed the back of his neck in a sheepish manner.

“oh uh, yunho had to go for practice and i haven't exactly had lunch yet since i got out of my previous class a little later than i intended to.” he admitted, a shy smile on his lips.

 “i thought that.. i could sit with you?” he continued. you could only stare at him, losing your voice all of the sudden until yeosang cleared his throat. 

“oh, would you look at that, wooyoung. i think i heard professor park looking for us.” he declared, standing up from the table, much to wooyoung's confusion.

“what do you me-” 

“see you guys later!” yeosang waved and pulled wooyoung away from the table, his eyes catching the panicked look on your face. 

‘talk to him.’ he mouthed before walking off, wooyoung whining next to him. 

as soon as the two boys were out of your line of vision, you turned back around to finally face mingi. much to your surprise, he was already looking at you after sitting down right across from you. this certain moment right here was enough to make you feel like you were in a repeated dream, memories of you and him from back then rushing to your head. Maybe he’s just sitting here until both of you were done with the project? You weren’t sure, yet would it be selfish of you to think he would still talk to you? the both of you sat in silence until mingi’s features flickered, making it seem as if he realised something, before rummaging through the paper bag and pulled out two egg tarts.

“i remembered that you liked the tarts from that old bakery we always hung out at after school. I know that the bakery closed down and these aren’t exactly the same but i just thought that you would like them.” he explained.

at his words, you couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly, touched at his gesture before taking one of the tarts from with a quiet ‘thank you.’ again, you both sat in silence as you ate your tarts, mingi fidgeting in his seat. the awkwardness was so thick in the air that you could almost cut it with a knife. with a clear of his throat, mingi was the one who broke the silence between the two of you.

“so.. how are you?” he asked, a look of uncertainty was etched in his features as if wondering whether it was the right thing to say.

finding it endearing for some reason, you chortled lightly, “i’m.. okay, i guess? and you?” you asked with a slight tilt of your head. 

“i’m fine, good. yeah, good.” mingi rambled on, almost wanting to hide behind his tart at the little crack of his voice. 

another giggle had made its way out of your lips, hand coming up to cover them as you did so. and that was enough to have mingi relax ever so slightly in his seat, at least you are smiling. so that’s a positive thing maybe? he hoped so. he really wanted to patch things up, catch up with each other, but of course, with how he had acted towards you before? It wasn’t easy, but mingi is willing to try. so, the two of you spent the remaining free time you had, just talking about the project you were both partnered for most of the time. occasionally, the two of you would even throw in a few bickers here and there but all were lighthearted. 

it was when you looked down at your phone that you had to cut the brief hang out short, much to your silent dismay, and mingi’s. as you were gathering your things, the male called your name, making you halt in your movements. 

“is it okay if we meet in the library again? for our project, i mean.” he asked, fingers nervously tugging on the ends of his sweatshirt.

you were taken aback from the sudden question but sent him a smile, shrugging your shoulders. 

“i mean, we are partners, no? so, i don’t see why not. same time?” you agreed, watching as the corners of the boy’s lips quirked up.

“oh yeah, definitely.” 

“and don’t be late, mingi.” 

“yeah, yeah. I won’t, see you soon, y/n.”

 ❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

it has been a little while now after that closure you both had. you expected for things to still be awkward. worst case? mingi going back to being a total asshole like before. yet from the amount of times mingi and you kept meeting up to work on your project, you felt as if the awkwardness around the both of you slowly fade away. both of you starting to open up to each other once again, sharing pieces from the past and even what happened during the time the both of you drifted apart, catching up with each other. of course, you were still hurt from the way he treated you from before but, as much you didn’t want to admit it, you still gave mingi another chance. 

even when the both of you had completed your assignment, you were surprised that he came by your table to join you, yeosang, and wooyoung every time the both of you had lunch the day after turning in your assignment to professor kim, even to the extent of bringing egg tarts whenever he came by. you were even more surprised at how wooyoung stopped wanting to beat his ass, instead, laughing his high pitched laugh at mingi’s jokes while you and yeosang would sigh at the lame joke. his friend, yunho, sometimes would join in. despite him being intimidatingly tall, he had a bright personality that reminded you of a golden retriever. before you could even realise, the days of hanging out turned into weeks, and into almost two months by now.  

more often than not, you would even tag along to watch mingi practice. despite seeming like a bouncy kid during most times, he was serious in the court. the way he dribbled the ball across the court away from the opposing players, and made a couple of three pointers easily, it was no surprise at how he was chosen as the team’s captain. whenever he was done with practice, mingi would always ask if you wanted to try playing with him. now, for one, you weren’t exactly a sporty person, so suddenly having to play with the captain of the basketball team? yeah, you would definitely have to pass. 

as usual, you were sitting at the sidelines watching the team practicing their aims and evading, along with mingi trying out new strategies with the team, you couldn’t help but to admire them. occasionally, you would catch mingi staring at you whenever your eyes landed on him after watching his other teammates play in the court, confused when he avoided your gaze as soon as you looked at his way. did you have something on your face? brushing the question away, you continued watching them. It was probably nothing.

everything seemed like a blur, and before you know it, everyone was packing up their things, giving each other words of encouragement on the way out of the court. once his teammates had left, you went up to mingi who was still standing in the middle of the court, bouncing the ball in his hand absentmindedly before getting ready to shoot it into the hoop. 

“you did well today, as usual.” your voice surprised him, missing his timing as he threw the ball, missing the hoop. with a playful scowl of his lips, mingi looked down at you.

“damn, you weren’t supposed to see that.” he complained, making you roll your eyes at him.

“just like how i wasn’t supposed to see you trip a few times today?” you retorted, smiling as mingi rubbed the back of his neck, a clear habit of his whenever he felt embarrassed.

“i thought you didn’t notice.” he chuckled, the timbre of his deep voice somehow sending a chill down your spine yet you kept your calm demeanour.

“i may not know how to play, but that doesn’t mean i don’t notice the small things, mingi.” you laughed and crossed your arms, raising a brow up at him.

mingi mimicked the expression on your face and crossed his arms, lips quirking up as if there was a lightbulb having his switch being flicked on. you knew what was coming up as a groan left your lips, shaking your head at him.

“mingi, for the last time, i don’t wanna play. I don’t even know how to pl-”

“then let me teach you how to play!” he pleaded, pulling his best puppy eyed look. did yunho teach him that?

you stared at his face for a little while, mingi about to give up before he grinned upon hearing the sigh out of defeat from you. well, what’s the harm in learning anyway. at least if you embarrassed yourself while playing, mingi would be the only one to see it. 

“okay, fine. teach me how to play, captain.” 

and with that, you spent the rest of the late afternoon just having mingi teach you the basics of how to play basketball, exchanging laughs and teasings here and there. though you still weren’t entirely a fan of the sport, you find it rather enjoyable. 

“okay, let’s play one game. winner makes the loser do anything they want.” mingi suddenly declared, balancing the ball between his side and arm. 

your mouth fell open. was he being serious right now? you barely even got the hang of all the techniques he had taught you, and suddenly he wanted to one up against him, the captain of the basketball? with a scoff, you shook your head at him.

“mingi, there’s no way i’m gonna do that.” you rejected, clicking your tongue.

“come on, y/n. i’ll go easy on you, please?” mingi whined, nudging your side, you deadpanning up at him in return.

“no.”

“please!”

“i said n-”

“i’ll buy you ice cream tomorrow after classes.” mingi offered, knowing how you had a sweet tooth.

“..fine.” you sighed out, to which made mingi cheer and took a few steps back from you with a huge grin on his face. running over to the side to pull out his phone and placing it on the bench, then running back to where he stood before.

“whoever has the most points before time’s up, wins. ready?” with a look of determination, you nodded your head.

“start!”

before you could even react, mingi ran towards your goal, causing you to squeak at his sudden moves before quickly trying to block him from getting closer. but of course, with the years of experience, and maybe due to his long legs as well, it was almost impossible. he smirked down at you once he made his first shot through your hoop, you huffing up at him. 

‘going easy, my ass.’ you groaned in your head as you narrowed your eyes up at him.

the quiet court was now filled with the sounds of mingi’s laughter mixing with your own, you yelling at him for being ‘unfair’, and the soft thudding of the ball hitting against the basketball court’s floor. this went on for quite a while until the timer in mingi’s phone went off, you two immediately halting your movements, chests heaving up and down to catch your breaths. too tired to stand, you sat down on the floor, mingi doing the same next to you. 

“looks like i won, princess.” mingi teased, earning a gentle slap on his shoulder from you. 

“oh, come on. someone who knew to actually play versus someone who never dribbled a basketball across the court? of course you would win!” you whined, glaring over at the laughing boy next to you. 

“i went easy on you, y/n. be thankful.” he defended, sticking his tongue out.

with a scoff, you turned slightly in place to face him while staying seated on the floor. “okay, okay. now what do you want?” you asked, voice sounding rather sulky.

mingi went quiet for a few seconds, teeth chewing on his lower lip as his gaze was casted down on his fingers that were fiddling with his shoelaces. your eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why he went quiet. surely it couldn’t be that hard in wanting whatever he wished for. you were about to ask whether he was alright or if he did not hear you when you asked before he suddenly turned to look at you, causing you to jump slightly in surprise.

“you owe me some egg tarts.” 

dumbfounded, you could only stare at his face, why would he want some considering he basically had been eating them every time you guys had lunch? but.. you couldn’t complain. he is the winner here, and what a winner wants is what they will get. with a nod, you mumbled out a soft ‘fine’, causing mingi to grin over at you and jump up to his feet. 

“i’ll go and take a brief shower, then we can go to the bakery i always go to!”

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

the sweet smell of various baked pastries filled your nose upon entering the bakery mingi led you to. the bakery wasn’t too small nor was it too big, it was just the appropriate size for people who just wanted to chill or needed to unwind after a long day with a plate of their favourite baked goods of their choice. you noticed the decor a few knick-knacks as well, probably to fill the empty spaces of the bakery. 

“oh, mingi, you are here!” an unknown voice reached into your ears, making you turn around to see a middle aged lady, maybe in her late fifties, giving mingi a hug. 

“hi grandma, i am! I guess i couldn’t resist your treats.” mingi laughed after he pulled away, a hearty laugh leaving the woman’s lips before your eyes met. 

“oh my, i take it you are a friend of mingi’s?” she asked, sending you a smile that somehow reminded you of a mother’s warm smile. not wanting to be rude, you bowed your head slightly in response.

“my name is y/n, y/n l/n. i am a friend of mingi’s indeed.”

right after your name, the middle aged woman gasped as her eyes stared up at mingi’s wide ones, much to your confusion from the sudden reaction. mingi could only purse his lips and gave her a vague gesture, the old woman forming her lips into a small ‘o’ in response. your eyebrows creased together, was there something going on? 

“my, it is nice to finally meet you, y/n.” she giggled, eyes holding a certain glint that you just couldn’t figure out. 

that was until you realised when her words finally processed in your mind. finally? what did she mean by that? you looked over to mingi, his cheeks somehow a tinted pink as his eyes were looking up at the written menu board hanging on the walls. something was going on, you just know it. 

“now, what can i do to help you, lovebugs?” ‘grandma’ had said, making her way to the cashier. 

lovebugs? before you could ask, mingi suddenly spoke up.

“the usual please, grandma.” he chuckled, albeit nervously. why was he acting so weird all of the sudden? yet, you decided to ask later and walked up to the cashier to pay for the treats until grandma tutted. 

“no, no, dear. this one is on the house. consider it as a lil present to meet the infamous y/n our mingi has always mentioned.” she chuckled, hearing mingi slapping his forehead in the background.

thanking her, the both of you made your way to a vacant table just at the back of the bakery right next to the window with some type of device in your hands to inform you when the tarts would be ready. once both you and mingi had sat down, you released a little noise out of interest that piqued mingi’s interest, wondering what had made you to do so. 

“the sky’s really pretty.” you mumbled, irises focused on the sky, mingi doing the same.

it was your favourite time of the day. the sky ranging from how the shades of crimson had mingled with the orange colours, along with a few streaks of pink here and there, looking as if someone grabbed a huge paintbrush and the sky was their canvas. it was always this time of day that made it seem like time around you had slowed down, letting you whisper your goodbye’s to the daylight before finally having to greet the night sky. 

mingi tore his gaze away from the sky to look at you, saving your awed expression in his mind. the male took the brief opportunity to admire your side profile, the familiar tug in his chest reminding him the feelings he thought were long forgotten. but how could he? 

how could he forget when you are just sitting right in front of him? how could he when you looked especially pretty when you briefly stopped in your tracks to admire the things you loved in life? how could he when you genuinely looked at ease? he could feel his heartbeat just beating so rapidly against his chest, his large hand coming up to rest on his chest. With a glance towards you again, he knew damn well what he was feeling.

mingi fell for you.

it would be a lie to say he didn’t. it would be a lie to say he didn’t develop these feelings for you when you would always have that quiet yet snarky side of you. it would be a lie to say that he didn’t purposely make mistakes in the project just so he could hear your voice explaining to him. but.. did he even have the right to do so? he had been an asshole towards you. though with the two of you finally having patched things up, he still felt the guilt gnawing at his mind every time you looked up at him with those bright eyes of yours. 

it was the sudden beeping from the device along with your voice calling his name making him just snap out of it, you looking at him, concern painted over your visage.

 “are you alright?” you softly asked.

he needed to tell you. sooner or later.

“i’m fine! just daydreaming for a bit there. i’ll go get the tarts!” 

as quickly as he stood up from his seat, mingi went off to return the device along with getting the said baked goods. 

you, on the other hand, weren’t stupid. you had noticed the gaze that landed on you while you were looking at the sky, you noticed the way he briefly placed his hand on his chest as soon as he tore his gaze away from you. with a shaky breath escaping your lips, you shut your eyes momentarily. It felt as if you were back in high school again, feeling the way your stomach flipping every now and then.

you had thought those feelings were long gone. yet, with all the lingering gazes that were exchanged between the two of you whenever your eyes met? or how you felt some sort of electricity shooting up your spine every time his arm brushed against yours when he stood next to you? but should you even tell him how you felt? no matter what the consequences will be?

your eyes looked up to the said male as he bounded over towards the both of you, a bright smile on his lips as he mentioned how good the tarts smelt, fresh out of the oven. seeing how his eyes widened ever so slightly out of excitement, you had your answer.

you needed to tell him. sooner or later. 

but for now, you needed the right timing to do so.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

you laughed as mingi had told you one of his rather embarrassing moments during the first few months of becoming the captain of the basketball as you two walked side by side, mingi offering to walk you home considering the two of you lost track of time in the bakery. the crimson sky from before turned into night.you swear that you could feel the little tears just rolling down your cheeks from how much you were laughing as mingi continued on with his story.

“if only my voice didn’t crack that time, the other teammates wouldn’t even start to drag me every chance they get.” he sighed, though the corners of his lips twitching up at the sound of your laughter.

“hey, they do listen to you. your teamwork is great too! i’m sure they would be frozen in place if you kept a strong persona.” you reassured him.

suddenly halting in his steps, his eyes landed on the familiar place. the place where he finally came clean, the place where you burst into tears, the place where… he had promised to himself that he won’t let you down yet again.

turning around, you only noticed he had stopped in his tracks from the lack of presence next to you. “something wrong?” you asked.

pointing at the swingset, mingi looked over at you. “can we.. sit on the swings?” 

deja vu. only, the roles were switched.

without a word, the both of you made your way to the swings and sat down, side by side. the sounds of the creaky swings filled your ears as you slowly swung yourself, both of you growing quiet as if the words in your heads disappeared. that was, until mingi spoke up.

“you do realise that technically you still need to do what i want you to do.” mingi reminded you.

he was right. the egg tarts weren’t actually from you, it was on the house. raising a brow, looked over at mingi. 

“and what are you planning, hm? don’t tell me you want another egg tart.” you joked, an attempt to lighten the mood, mingi chuckling in return.

however, the smile on his lips disappeared as soon as it was shown. you would be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous. suddenly, mingi stood up and knelt in front of you. your eyes widened as you stared into his own intense one, gulping the huge lump forming in your throat, fingers clutching tight on the chains of the swings. 

“min-”

“i want… i want you to like me. to take responsibility for what you are making me feel.” he spoke up abruptly, effectively making you freeze in place.

silence hung over the both of you, the sounds of cars occasionally passing by filling the quietness. did.. did you hear it right? or were you just dreaming? yet, the cool breeze of the night air was enough to tell you this was very much real, you were not dreaming. you could hear the way your heart beating violently in your ears, not being able to find the words to answer him.

to mingi, your lack of response was enough to make him grow nervous. the negative thoughts started to swirl in his mind, scolding him for suddenly acting rather hasty. he was starting to feel scared. scared that you might run away, scared that he won’t be able to watch him during practice, scared that he might not be able to walk you home.

scared that he would lose you once again.

“i’m.. i’m sorry i shouldn’t have said that. you can reject me, y/n. just please.. please don’t leave me again. you can forget this ever happened. you can forget i ever said any-” he rambled.

however, your actions effectively made him stop talking. your hands cupped his cheeks before crashing your lips against his with your eyelids shut tight, couldn’t say the same for mingi though. poor boy was frozen in place. it took him awhile to process what’s happening before slowly reaching up to place his hand on the back of your nape, eyes slowly fluttering closed to reciprocate the kiss. it felt as if time had slowed down around the two of you, lips moving in sync.

both of you wished that you could have this moment forever but the need for oxygen was urgent, burning both of your lungs. slowly, the both of you pulled away, faces just centimetres apart from each other’s. no words were exchanged between the two of you, just staring at each other as mingi rubbed the pad of his thumb along the length of his cheekbone, and your own digits playing with the strands of his hair absentmindedly. clearing his throat, mingi started to speak to break the silence. 

“i guess that’s a yes then?” 

with a jovial titter, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt to place your lips on his once again, mingi happily returning it as he circled his arms around your waist, the twinkling stars on the night’s canvas along with the bright moon being the witness of the start of a new level between the both of you.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“are you fucking kidding me?” wooyoung screeched, eyes all wide at the sight of you and mingi coming to your usual table hand in hand. yeosang, who was peacefully drinking his tea, nearly did a spit take at the sight while yunho laughed at their reactions with a shake of his head before looking back at the two of you.

“i’m guessing you have something to tell us?” the other tall male asked, spinning a basketball on his index finger before swiftly catching it in his hands as wooyoung poked it.

“what else do they have to say? the answer is right there, puppy.” yeosang gestured at the your intertwined hands, not missing the fact that both of your cheeks were in a faint tint of pink.

yunho merely raised an eyebrow at the blond, amused, “for someone with a snarky attitude, you sure can’t sense someone else’s sarcasm.” 

wooyoung cackled at the way yeosang deadpanned at yunho, immediately shutting his lips at the sight of the blonde’s glare, though not without letting out a stifled laugh.

you couldn’t help but to laugh at your friends’ antics as both you and mingi sat down at the table, eyes turning into small crescents as you did so. It was when yunho had asked the two of you what exactly went down between the two of you, yeosang and wooyoung leaning in expectantly. you looked over at mingi, who was already looking at you with fondness and adoration just written all over his face, before turning back to your friends to finally tell them.

alas, the rest of the lunch time you had was filled with your friends just teasing the both of you. though you didn’t mind, you were content. 

somewhere in the back of your mind, you thanked the heavens for giving mingi and you another chance to start over. It was a rocky start, yet you didn’t drop each other right then and there. and you were glad that you didn’t.

“wanna go to grandma’s after this, y/n?” mingi whispered into your ear as your three friends bickered in the background.

“just don’t be late, hm?” you teased, making mingi roll his eyes in a playful manner before gently pinching the bridge of your nose.

“hey, don’t make us feel single, lovebirds.” wooyoung yelled.

cue a slap on his arm from you along with the round of laughter filling the air.

[pynkhues]

What’s you top 5 unpopular good girls ships?

I am eternally blessed, anon, because all my ships for Good Girls are pretty popular, haha. I’m all about Beth x Rio, Ruby x Stan, Dean x Suffering, Boomer x Grievous Bodily Harm! Even my non-canon ships like Annie x Nancy or Annie x JT are pretty popular! 

So instead, I’m offering you five crack ships and I’ve written the scenarios where I think they could work, because I am a glutton for punishment, haha. One of them I actually want to write, but I’m not going to say which, because I don’t want anyone to peer pressure me into writing it, hahaha. (I have way too many WIPs!)

Below a cut to save your feeds.

1. Krystal x Lucy

Okay, SO, I accidentally wrote them into the pornstar au, and ever since the thought came to me, it’s latched on like a parasite! I love the thought of them both having someone in their corner in the way that we sort of know they don’t? Lucy really needed somebody who could fight for her and was more clued into the world than either herself or Max, and Krystal pretty clearly needs someone who’s kind to her. Plus Krystal would edge out some of Lucy’s cutesyness, while Lucy would ground Krystal, and idk! I just think they’d be cute!

Okay, scenario though – I’m thinking the Hill’s have a Christmas party. Lucy and Max have recently broken up and Beth feels bad for her, so invites her to be her plus-one (or, well, plus seventh after Rio and the kids), and the gesture’s a nice one, but Beth is instantly distracted by helping Ruby get the food out or with Jane and Marcus inevitably causing havoc, and so Lucy ends up wallflowering, watching everyone else just - - know each other, right? 

And maybe Krystal sees her and maybe she’s a few drinks in already, so it’s not like it takes much to grab another cup of spiked eggnog and tumble against the wall beside Lucy. And maybe it’s awkward at first, because Lucy’s sort of weird, but maybe Krystal kind of likes that, and maybe Lucy compliments Krystal’s ugly snowman earrings, and Krystal really does think Lucy’s reindeer sweater is cute, and maybe Lucy falls a little in love when Krystal sings bawdy Christmas songs, her arm slung over Ruby’s shoulder, and Krystal falls a little in love when Lucy is unfairly good at drunk pictionary, and maybe it feels like they’ve known each other a lot longer than a night (and maybe they want to make sure they will). 

2. Mick x Mary Pat. 

Okay, okay, okay. Hear me out. 

So it finally happens. Rio finds out who Mary Pat is, what she’s done – that she’s Beth’s rotten egg – and y’know, Rio isn’t playing around anymore. He wants to send Beth a message, and what better way to do that than to handle the third person she couldn’t after Turner and Boomer? So he sends Mick off with an order.

And so Mick watches for a few days – keeps an eye on her schedule, her routine, carving out a plan to handle her as smoothly as possible (he’s not Rio after all, he doesn’t hand guns to women he’s just kidnapped, y’know?) – and starts to get a sense of her. Sure, maybe he feels a little bad. She has a lot of kids, y’know? And always seems pretty frazzled, at the end of her rope, but sort of sweet. She goes to church, sings in a choir, makes pancakes from a box, sure, but she adds both choc chips and blueberries which is a pretty good combo, and maybe it’s hard to believe she’s swept up in all of this, but then it was hard to believe Mrs Boland and that sweet girl from Paper Porcupine had been too. 

Still, Mick knows what he’s doing, y’know? 

He’s not Rio. He’ll finish the job.

So he steals into her house late at night, moving down to her bedroom, intending to take her outside, handle her away from the kids at least, when suddenly a wild Mary Pat appears! Brandishing a huge knife. 

Mick staggers back! Alarmed, and Mary Pat thrusts it at him, knowing exactly how long he’s been watching her and what does he think she is??? NEW to this??? She worked with the FBI! Okay, not --  not worked with them, but y’know, an agent was on her case for a while, and Mary Pat is not as stupid as her Uncle Larry told her that one time, and okay, Mick thinks, staggering back into his seat, eyes fixed on the knife Mary Pat is waving around at him. 

You wanna talk this out? 

It’s the wrong thing to say, because no, she doesn’t especially, and they just sort of stare at each other for a minute, trying to figure out what happens next when Billy wakes up and trots down the hallway, and he’s had a bad dream about the bad man, and for a minute, Mick thinks he’s talking about him, but then Mary Pat says something about how Boomer won’t ever step foot in this house again, and with the way she’s holding that knife, Mick is inclined to believe her. 

And then, well, Billy asks for pancakes. 

So that’s how Mick ends up eating pancakes with Mary Pat and three of her four kids at 2 in the morning, and y’know, he’s not a total asshole. He’s going to stay and help her clean up afterwards, and maybe it’s sort of nice, now that she’s put the knife down (although it is still in reaching distance, and honestly, he respects that), now that his gun’s back in his pants. 

And well, he can’t exactly kill a woman who just made him pancakes, so he figures next time, only next time, Mary Pat’s already cooking, and then the time after that, she’s already set him a plate, and maybe the time after that, she kisses him, and maybe the time after that, he kisses her first, and at least when Rio asks, Mick can just give him a look, because it isn’t like he doesn’t have his own batshit crazy mother of four he can’t kill. 

3. Rhea x Phoebe. 

So, y’know. Phoebe’s good at her job. 

Phoebe knows how to do a stakeout, to keep tabs, to collect intel. She revels in every part of the chase, every part of the puzzle, every part of the game of it all, because she knows that what she’s doing is right, she’s cleaning up the streets! Making the world a better place! But - - okay, she’ll be the first to admit that she already finds her marks exhausting.

Not so much Hill and Marks. They’re sort of fun to keep tabs on (and lowkey, Phoebe really does maybe daydream sometimes about what it might be like to sit on the couch and watch bad reality shows with them, drinking cheap wine and creamy, herb crusted cheeses). Even Boland is kind of awesome when she’s not with him. 

Because the thing is, as soon as Boland and the Big Kahuna are together, everything just gets a little - - hm. What’s the word for it? 

(”Nothing like watching a crime lord pull pigtails,” Henry had said on one stakeout, headphones on as they’d watched from afar as Big Kahuna had swung in close to Boland, said something that made her flush red and try to stamp on his foot. “Can’t wait until they graduate to passing notes. At least then there might be something we can use.”) 

And, well. It’s not like he’s wrong.

So maybe she starts to get bored of watching the highschool antics of them (as has everyone else, she thinks, if the looks on their faces is anything to go by - including the hitman clearly trying to take one, or both of them out [and please, a little part of Phoebe thinks, watching as Big Kahuna drags a finger across the back of Boland’s knuckles, and Boland wait until he’s gone to order the most expensive liquor in the bar to Big Kahuna’s tab]). Maybe that makes her dig a little deeper. 

Maybe that’s how she finds herself watching an under-9′s soccer game in a fold-out chair beside Big Kahuna’s baby mama. (She tells her she’s researching, so it’s not technically a lie, even if the cover of starting to coach a team of her own in the fall is a thin one).

And okay, maybe they hit it off. Which is kind of cool, Phoebe thinks, because it turns out Rhea is kind of cool (how she put up with Big Kahuna is a total mystery to her), and y’know, she’s actually pretty? LIke, pretty pretty. And nice, and totally normal, and maybe they get a coffee after the game, and catch a movie on the weekend, and maybe sometimes Phoebe forgets to fish about Big Kahuna at all, but that’s an easy mistake to make, and maybe Henry gives her a Look when he hears about it, but it’s nothing, Phoebe thinks.

She’s just doing her due diligence. 

Being thorough, y’know? 

I mean, who even knows when information could come out, and Phoebe’s just laying the groundwork anyway, she thinks, watching the line of Rhea’s neck, the purse of her lips, blinking rapidly when Rhea leans across the table, the curve of her breast visible beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, and says: “I know you’re a fed.” 

And Phoebe splutters as Rhea keeps leaning forwards. 

“I’m not going to tell you anything about him.” 

And what can Phoebe say except okay, something in her chest tightening at - - at what, Phoebe has no idea. Just knows that Rhea’s so close she can feel the other woman’s breath on her cheek.  

“I just want to be clear about that,” she tells her. “If we’re going to do this.” 

And Phoebe blinks, owlish at Rhea, pulse rapid and mouth dry as she asks: “Do what?” 

And well, it turns out Phoebe likes Rhea even more when she’s kissing her.

4. Greg x Dr. Josh.

Okay, so maybe two things happen. 

Maybe it’s a party of something when Annie finally turns around and tells Greg about kissing her therapist, and honestly, Greg shouldn’t be surprised. This is what Annie does, after all, and telling her off never really gets him anywhere, so he pours them both another drink, and - - sure, maybe another. 

Then maybe a few more. 

Because it’s just like they’re in this loop, y’know? Him and her. Like she fucks up and it’s not like she expects him to clean up after her (he’s not Beth), but it’s like there’s something in Annie where she needs him to know about it, and that just really gets to him sometimes, because like, Annie’s not his responsibility just because they have a kid together. Besides, he has Nancy now, so it’s not like he needs Annie, and even thinking about Nancy sort of makes him want to go and find her, so then he’s drunkenly stumbling around this party, looking for that cape of perfect blonde hair, and okay, maybe that’s when the second thing happens.

Annie. Nancy. Closet. Necking. Maybe a shirt’s off? There’s a lot of like - - like mouths and hand stuff and Greg slams the door shut and maybe goes and lies on the grass outside for a while. 

And okay, maybe it’s not a surprise either. Maybe this is also what Annie does too, but still, he stews on it, and then stews on it some more, and so what if he interrogates Ben for this therapist’s address, because like - - hadn’t Annie been going to him for months? How could this guy make everything worse. 

And sure, maybe storming into the guy’s office, drunk on anger this time instead of beer, isn’t the best idea, but he’s just - - pissed, y’know? And maybe he yells at the guy about where he gets off, kissing patients. Making his patients kiss his wife, and okay, the guy’s pale at first, but then is sort of nice, and they sit on the beanbags and talk for a bit about Hurricane Annie, and actually, he’s finished work for the day, so maybe they should go get a beer or whatever? 

And maybe later, when Josh drops a nervous hand to his knee and awkwardly closes the distance between them, when Greg’s kissing back, he does sort of wonder if he and Annie won’t always be pulling from the same pool. 

5. Turner x Noah. 

Come on. We all saw s2. There’s no way Turner didn’t offer a, ahem, hand to help Noah get over Annie. 

[oneofthemillionarmy]

The Impossible Order | Ch.2

Summary line: Mr. Min is a stoic boss who will never outwardly show appreciation for you. Not until you’re gone does he recognize how much you do. And what you do matters to him.

ceo!Yoongi | best.friend!Hoseok | romance, fluff, angst, and stuff

Loosely inspired by Secretary Kim and this third bullet point of the prompt list

Last chapter

~•~

Last night, one of the Peruvian suppliers was able to promise 250 ct worth of tourmaline, but it would be delivered in two weeks rather than the originally intended week and a half. Knowing your boss is one for deadlines and punctuality, you believe he’d prefer Hestia Sourcing. Despite your own gut telling you that Peruvian Treasures will pay off in the long run. Regardless of the turnaround time from your main supplier, the 200 ct in two weeks will keep the remaining four projects afloat before the regular shipment. However, you still report the remaining two supplier response and quotes, also providing your own input. Mr. Min says he prefers Hestia; as expected.

“How goes the status on our tourmaline crisis?” Mr. Min asks as he sips on his third cup of coffee this morning.

“Hestia Sourcing has already been officially contacted for their shipment of tourmaline to arrive in a week and a half. Jimin is currently working with Kim Taehyung on the new design for the frame. Seokjin has already crafted two other designs for you to look at today before he meets with Yoo Jae Suk tomorrow. Beyoncé loves alexandrite, but the tourmaline was intended to match with her costumer designer’s vision for the Met Gala, so he’s unwilling to make changes. Your father had already ok’d the change for your parent’s anniversary gift, so we can switch their gemstones with alexandrite instead. The JP team has already started working on the mold for the Jubilee. And marketing just emailed me the final draft for the letter to the customers and PR is still working with marketing for the ethically sourced advertisement. They are utilizing internet ad platforms, both short clip video ads and on social media.” You handed him your tablet for him to read over the final draft letter and Seokjin’s designs.

“Tell marketing to go ahead with the letter. Also, tell Seokjin that I would also like to see his first design with silver instead of rose gold.”

“Yes, Mr. Min.”

“Today I’m meeting with Jasper and Jester Industries over Zoom at 12:30. Tell the tech team I want to use the hologram projector during this meeting because we’re showing them the prototype today. Speaking of prototype, I need to see the prototype from the TP team by 10. Go to L’Orange today for lunch today; I want the lamb chops. James and Soobin will be coming at 1:30 to go over the purchasing of the mine sites for the cobalt mining. Check back in with me at 2 on the Kim Taehyung project and the marketing strategy. I want to see Seokjin’s new designs by 3. And check with our supply team if we’re maintaining our upkeep of inventory. If not, I need a list before 11 this morning along with suppliers’ response for turnaround time and quotes.”

“Yes, Mr. Min.” You had your hands clasped behind your back the entire time.

“Another coffee please.”

“Yes, Mr. Min.” Without another word, you step out and take out your recorder. You play back his directives as you get the coffee.

~•~

“Hey, Hoseok.” You sigh as you pour hot water into your instant noodle bowl for lunch.

“Hey, Sunshine.” You chuckle. If the either of you were the sunshine, it’d be him.

“How’s Yeontan?”

“He’s fine. The vet says that he’s a little underfed, but otherwise, he’s still the most adorable Yeontan-ie that has ever lived.” Hoseok gushes at the puppy in his lap as he drives on his way back to his home. Hoseok will be holding onto Yeontan until the weekend.

“Ok. That’s good news. Was he good at the vet?”

“He hates the vet. You should know that better than I do. I was a dog catcher for 30 minutes. And he caused a whole waiting room full of dogs into a frenzy. Did you know that one of the people there brought their snake? I hate those. Yeontan almost fought a snake! You have no idea how hard it was for me to finally grab Yeontan before anything drastic happened.” You laugh as he goes on about his heroic deed of saving your pup from a snake.

“You did very well. Thank you, Hoseok.”

“Never mind that, Blessings. Hey. Are you coming over today after work?”

“I might. My boss has been very extra today. Every ten minutes, his chat bubble pops up adding 3 more things to do. But honestly, with the amount of things going on today, he shouldn’t have anything else left to do tonight. I might actually get off work on time.

“Good. Good. ‘Cause I was thinking –“ before Hoseok can finish his words, you hear the sound of a car swerve.

“Hoseok? You ok?”

“Yeah. Some idiot w-“ and the line cut off.

~•~

At 12:15, you were nowhere to be found. You left a message to Yoongi that you had to take the day off. Everything you were requested to do was already set in motion like a Rube Goldberg machine. You texted him saying that there are cups and cups of coffee in the fridge ready for him. If he wants hot, he’ll have to wait another day. And as promised, everything Yoongi needed was here. He had everything he needed. You just weren’t there to provide it.

“Where’s Y/N?” Seokjin asks as he comes in at 3pm like clockwork, “I would’ve thought she’d give me that 20-minute warning like she always does when I have a meeting with you.” She does that?

“I don’t know. She took a half day. I haven’t seen her since 11 or something.” Yoongi says nonchalantly as he looks over the Seokjin’s work. Seokjin just blinks at that before he starts slowly, “That’s not like her. Is everything ok? Do you know what happened?”

“No.”

“It’s just not like her to –“

“I like it better in silver this way.” Yoongi cuts him off, gesturing to the new designs.

“Heh. Yeah, Y/N said you would. I wanted to show you the rose gold one first anyway.” Seokjin chuckles as he sits down across the table from him, “Speaking of Y/N,” I wasn’t speaking about her…, “You got the supplies list for JP, TP, and HP, right? She told me you were working with the cobalt mine sites today. She told me to tell you that since cobalt is one of the supplies on the list, and the mine site wouldn’t be ready just yet, she contacted 3 different cobalt miners and selected Arrows for the cobalt supply.”

“She should’ve come to me first about the different miners. We have our upcoming product from HP –“

“The ceramic tiles for Ms. James’ bathroom. Yeah. She contacted HP. They require 300 g and Arrows is the only one with the adequate amount of supply. It will be here in 5 days.” Seokjin stands up and walks over to Yoongi’s kitchen, “All the other suppliers have been contacted. She sent me the list and wants me to report it to you.”

“You’re just a designer for the jewelry department,” Yoongi says as he looks through his email to see if you sent him any recent emails. Nothing.

“Give me some credit. I’ve got a brain and it’s used for more than just designing. Don’t forget, before I was a designer, I was also your assistant too.”

“Yeah, a pretty bad one.” Yoongi snorts. It’s why he needed you.

“We were just a startup! We literally just graduated then.” Seokjin protests as he come back over and sets down a steaming hot cup of coffee in front of Yoongi.

“I thought Y/N only had iced ones left.”

“She did, but she instructed me to heat up one for you before we go over the list with you.” Seokjin scoots his chair closer as he whips out his tablet to bring up the supplies list, “And one for after.”

~•~

“Mr. Jung has suffered a serious blow to the head and is currently unconscious. We don’t know when he will wake at this point. His left arm has scarring from the glass shatters from the window when the car was impacted. His left leg has a hairline fracture and the patella was dislocated but has already been set back. Luckily, his left leg is the worst of the limbs. There’s bruising on the right thigh and right elbow also has bruising. The bruises are likely from holding on to the dog during impact. His right arm has some muscle tears do to strain.

“Right now, our biggest concern is when he will wake up. He had internal bleeding in the brain but the blood has been removed and there’s no clotting, in his brain or anywhere near his spine. Everything is where it needs to be, and there’s nothing that indicated long term brain damage or trauma. But we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.” The doctor nods his head and leaves.

You sniff as you cross your arms, staring at your best friend lying in the hospital bed. His head is wrapped as well as his left arm. His left leg is currently suspended in its cast. By his left eyes and cheeks, are massive bruises that still look sticky and gooey.

If only I didn’t let him take Yeontan…

“How’s my dog?”

“We checked in with the vet hospital nearby. Your dog has no extreme injuries, only mild bruising. The doctor wants him to stay overnight for observation.” The nurse reports to you. You shiver from the lonely air of the hospital.

“You can go in and see the patient right now, but please do not touch him. And visiting hours will be over in 40 minutes.” The nurse gently reminds you before you nod, thanking the nurse and heading in.

Walking towards Hoseok, your nose feels the burn as tears well up in your eyes. Before you even reach Hoseok’s bed, the tears already overflow out.

“I’m so sorry Hoseok. This is my fault.” And he’s a dancer too…oh my God, he’s a dancer….his limbs…

Your tears quickly turn into hysterical sobs, thinking too many things at once. Your greatest prayer is that he wakes up and he is completely healed. You start hyperventilating so you sit down and take deep breaths.

Although you were instructed not to touch him, you couldn’t resist to at least clutch to the hospital blankets next to his right hand, your knuckles touching each other’s.

“Please wake up, Hoseok. I’ll never have you do anything else for me. I’m sorry if I ever took advantage of you. Please know that I never once took you for granted. You are my dearest friend and I don’t want anyone else for a best friend. I promise to hug you more. I promise to cook for you. I’ll do it at your house. You don’t have to come to mine. I’ll clean up my mess after too. I’m here for you, I promise. I really am. I’m not leaving you, I swear to God. Please just wake up and be ok. You’re gonna be ok. I promise.” You turn to look to the hospital window to make sure no one sees you. You grab his right hand and lean down to kiss it, “Please wake up.”

Your phone in your pocket vibrates and you take it out.

The board members meeting is tomorrow at 8am. Please gather the data and reports from the teams ready by 6am. I will look over it before the meeting.

“Fuck you. No. Not now.” You grit your teeth and put the phone back in the pocket.

Your tears are both sad and angry now, but you know you need to calm down. Nothing drastic.

You take a couple deep breaths before you wipe your tears and take your phone out again to write an email. You look up as you think for a moment. Make that three.

Next chapter

[dragonsaphirareads]

What Makes a Dark Side

Day 5 of @tsshipmonth2020 Fluffuary!

Ship: Analogical 

AU: Canonverse 

Word Count: 1456

Summary: Virgil barricaded himself in his room after Remus revealed himself to Thomas. Logan goes to comfort him and find out why. 

(Like listening to podfics? You can listen to this oneshot on my YT channel here!)  

They hadn’t seen Virgil in days.

That in itself wasn’t necessarily unusual. The anxious side tended to seclude himself for longer periods of time when Thomas’s life was routine. Usually, he would come out for short bursts before hunkering back down in his room.

But something had changed. After Thomas was introduced to the other half of his Creativity, there was a tension hanging in the Mindscape. At first, Logan had thought that it was coming from either Roman or Patton. They both seemed subdued the following day, but after that they bounced back and the air was still heavy, he realized they hadn’t seen Virgil since the incident.

He double checked with the other two, and confirmed that they hadn’t seen him either. There hadn’t been any evidence that he’d just been out when they weren’t there - no cups sitting besides the sink, no dishes waiting to be washed, nothing.

That was when he decided he needed to check on him, to make sure that he was doing alright. Perhaps Patton would be better suited for the task if Virgil needed comfort, but he still wasn’t fully recovered from everything that had happened in the recent weeks.

So he found himself outside Virgil’s door, in the shadowy twilight between what was considered the dark side. and the “light side.” He raised his fist and rapped on the door sharply three times.

“Go away!” Came the sharp reply, tinged with a dark undertone. Logan wasn’t phased.

“Virgil, I came to make sure that you are well. We haven’t seen you in the common room since the incident with Remus. Is everything--”

“I’m fine! Now go away!” Virgil hissed through the door, and it sounded to Logan that he was on the verge of a panic attack - possibly having one already.

“Falsehood. You sound distinctly not fine. Virgil, I would like to help you, if you’ll allow me inside your room--”

“NO!” Virgil screamed, and something thudded against the door. Logan flinched back at the unexpected impact, then reached for the handle.

“I’m coming inside in five seconds unless you can provide a suitable reason I shouldn’t.”

“You’ll get affected by my room!”

Logan shook his head. “When Thomas is not fully immersed in your space, your room’s effect on me is minimal.”

“You... You’ve got better stuff to do than waste time with me! Thomas has so much to do this week!”

“Calming you down from an attack will benefit Thomas, so it is a worthy use of my time. Five seconds have passed, I’m opening the door now.”

He turned the handle and pushed, but the door wouldn’t budge. He tried to push harder, but it soon became clear that there was something rather heavy blocking the door.

“Logan, please, just go away! I’m fine, I know how to deal with this, I just need you to leave!” Virgil pleaded, sounding close to tears.

The logical side lowered his voice, trying to imitate the soft, comforting tone Patton always used in these situations. “Virgil, I want to help you. But I cannot do that if you insist on shutting me out of your room. If you’re truly worried about me being affected, then we can move to the common room instead.”

There was silence from inside the room. Then Virgil mumbled something, so quiet that Logan couldn’t understand him. “What was that, Virgil? Your door is rather thick, I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said I don’t want to hurt you! So you need to leave, ok?” Virgil’s voice cracked as he forced out the words, and Logan blinked.

“How would you hurt me? I have yet to be harmed in any significant way by you.”

Virgil laughed, but it was just a puff of air escaping him, devoid of any actual humor. “It’s not just you. I can’t risk hurting any of you guys. Not after everything...”

Logan shook his head, taking a seat with his back pressed firmly against the door. This may take more time than he’d originally expected, but it was clear that Virgil needed help. “Virgil, could you please explain how you are harming us? Or rather, how you think you are?”

“W-What? Why?!”

“Because I believe you are suffering from cognitive distortions, and I wish to help you.” Logan answered.

“What, are we gonna have a therapy session through my door?”

“If that is what is necessary, then absolutely. Virgil, I want to assure you that you have not done anything to myself or to Roman or Patton that I would consider harmful.”

Virgil laughed that humorless laugh again. “You’re kidding me. I’ve insulted Princey since day one, I’ve called you and Pat names, I said you’re the least popular character... I’m Anxiety, I’m not exactly nice!”

Logan took a moment to think through his words carefully. “Perhaps I should have worded that more specifically. You have not done anything more harmful than any of the rest of us. I am also guilty of name calling and insulting my fellow sides. It is something to be worked on, certainly. But it is not a damning trait.”

“But that’s just the start! You guys nearly got stuck in my room because I was stupid and decided that Thomas didn’t need me at all--”

“You were working under incomplete premises. We had not done our due diligence in expressing to you your importance in Thomas’s life. It also was our choice to come after you. There were certainly other ways of fixing the problem, but we chose that one. Your actions may have been the catalyst for ours, but you are in no way responsible for our decisions.”

Virgil swallowed. “You just don’t get it!”

“I understand you’re feeling a number of very intense emotions, and that you are having difficulty getting to the root of the problem. That’s what I am here for.”

“... But why?”

The whisper was quiet, but Logan heard it this time. “Because you are important, Virgil. To Thomas, to us... to me.”

“But I’ve been lying to you!”

“About being a dark side?”

Logan heard Virgil hiss through his teeth, and he shook his head. “Please, Virgil, it’s nothing we didn’t already know. Thomas is the only one going through that particular revelation.”

“H-How?”

He sighed. “Before Thomas started this series with us, our only interactions were negative ones. You did not spend time with us and were quite antagonistic towards the three of us. Although the phrase did not come about until recently, we have always known that there was a divide between you and us. And the reasons behind that are complicated and I will have a talk with Roman about his use of that term eventually.”

“But... it’s true.”

Logan took a long pause, formulating his thoughts. “Virgil, there is no distinct difference between you and I. Or for that matter, any of the other “dark sides” and I.”

“What are you talking about? We’re dangerous, Logan!”

“You’re dangerous in the same way I am, in excess. Thomas cannot function if you’re operating at a higher capacity than the rest of us... but that goes for any one of us. Thomas would not be himself if any one of us stopped doing our jobs. And Virgil... what is your goal? What do you intend for Thomas? Do you intend to hurt him?”

Virgil didn’t respond for a long time.

“I... I just want him to be safe.”

Logan smiled softly. “And that’s what you do for him. You keep him safe - that’s your purpose. You’re not perfect, but none of us are. We all struggle to push ourselves and push Thomas, but you know what would make that process go more smoothly?”

“What?”

“If we had our fourth team member join us?”

“... Even though I’m a dark side?”

“Perhaps because of it. If we must insist on dividing between “us” and “them”, then I insist that you be considered one of us.”

Virgil went silent. Then there was some shuffling, and Logan stood up from the door as it opened, and revealed a red-eyed Virgil staring at him.

“You’re serious?”

Logan grinned, pointing to his tie. “I’m always serious.”

That elicited a laugh from him. Then Virgil surged forward and threw his arms around Logan’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder. He was shaking, and Logan was content to simply stand there, one arm around his back and the other cradling his neck, letting him collect himself.

“Thanks, Lo. I... needed this.”

Logan smiled, and on an impulse he pressed a featherlight kiss to the side of Virgil’s head. “We’re not complete without you, Virgil. I promise, I will never let you lose sight of that simple, undeniable fact.”

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Calling (11)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST.

DESCRIPTION -  In which the ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on how much you would enjoy it.

MASTERLIST 

Chapter Eleven - Coffee Ransom

Tony was growing concerned. It had been hours and you hadn’t come back to the lab. Friday assured him you were still on the premises but wouldn’t tell him where. You weren’t capable of hacking the AI so either someone else had done it on your behalf or you were in the one room with Privacy Protocols that meant Friday couldn’t divulge anything. Either option led him back to one person.

Natasha was in the kitchen alone, making two cups of coffee.

“Are you sure telling her was the right choice?” Natasha asked without preamble.

“She had a right to know, no matter how painful the truth was.” Tony said flatly.

“And telling her this now just so happens to distract her from everything else.” Natasha noted, a bite in her voice.  

“No, absolutely not. I wouldn’t break her heart like that just to distract her.” He snapped.

Because that’s what had happened. He had broken your heart. He’d handed you a file, one with a single slip of paper in it and what was inside had broken something inside you that he knew could never be fixed.

Subject 74 - B/F. A female class two mutant with a mild healing factor, one that had allowed her to survive the botched super soldier serum they had injected her with. Brought in eight months before you had been born and date of death, the day you had been born.

Your face had crumbled as you read it, as you realised you were holding the notes on your biological mother.

“Why would you show me this?” You had asked.

“Because she was likely pregnant when Project Vernichtung took her.” Bruce had explained.

“Your biological father wasn’t a subject. Which means he could still be out there. We could try and find him, if you want.” Tony had told you gently.

You had only wiped your cheeks, standing up and stiffly walking out of the lab, the file clutched tightly in your hands.

He hadn’t wanted to tell you at first. He knew it would utterly destroy you to learn you had a mother and she was dead. But he also knew how resilient you were, you would survive this. And as much as he loved you, as much as being your father had been the most unexpected and wonderful gift, he didn’t want to deprive you of the chance to find your real father if you wanted to look.

Telling you had not been an easy decision for him to make, but it had been a selfless one.  

Natasha was satisfied he was telling the truth and had handed him one of the cups.

“I believe you had good intentions Tony but you just told her she had another dad out there and you were going to look for him.” Natasha said.

“Only if that’s what she wants.” He added.

“I think she’s more concerned with what you want right now Stark.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means for a genius you really are an idiot. You might want to go and tell your daughter that she’s still your daughter.”

Tony swore under his breath and moved as quickly as he could to Natasha’s room without spilling the boiling liquid he was carrying.

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

You scratched your fingernails over the cover of the file while you waited for Natasha to come back with the coffee she’d insisted would make you feel better. You didn’t want to talk to anyone so you were hiding out in her room, curled up on her sofa and trying to pretend nothing was wrong. It was impossible with that file staring up at you.

You pulled the piece of paper from it, the only thing in the world you had of your mother and folded it up, tucking it into your pocket. One piece of paper, barely a full paragraph. Not even a name. Part of you was glad because seeing a name would have made it more real. This way you could shove it out of sight and mind.

Footsteps paused outside the door and you knew it was Tony.

“I know you’re in there. I come bearing coffee. And apologies.” He called.

You got up and nervously shuffled over to the door. You knew you had to talk to him but you were terrified of what he was going to say. You opened the door a crack and peered out at him. He looked as bad as you felt as he waved the coffee cup at you.

“Walk with me and I’ll give it to you.” He bargained.

You narrowed your eyes at him but he held his ground. As long as he was holding your coffee hostage he knew he could get you to talk to him. You huffed and opened the door, stepping out of Natasha’s room. He gestured with his head and you walked towards the elevator like he had intended. He got in after you, still holding the innocent coffee to ransom.

“The roof please Friday.” He said.

You glanced at him in surprise.

“No offence but you look like you could do with a little sunlight and fresh air.” He explained.

You didn’t respond verbally, just wrapped your arms around yourself. Was this the part where he told you he was giving you over to your biological father. Did Tony feel guilty for claiming you as his daughter and want to return you to some stranger with a silly genetic claim to you?

You exited onto the roof and he handed the coffee over to you. You wandered around while you sipped at your drink and Tony just leaned casually against the wall, watching you.

He had been right about you needing the sunshine and fresh air because even after a few minutes you feel a little better. Ever observant, he must have been able to tell you were ready to talk because he spoke first.

“If you want me to find him, I will. If you want me to forget he exists, I will. If you don’t want to make a decision yet, I’ll wait. You can wait ten minutes or ten years, I’ll wait. But you have got to talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say to you.” You admitted.

“Tell me what you want, or don’t want. I’ll do anything for you and if you haven’t realised that by now you haven’t been paying attention.”

“What I don’t want? I don’t want some stranger who probably doesn’t even know I ever existed. You were the one who saved me, and took me in. You took care of me and taught me everything and let me make my own choices even when you didn’t agree with them. I had no idea what a father was or how it felt to actually have someone care about me until you.” You told him, tears threatening to break free.  

“I know I’m impulsive but adopting you wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, it wasn’t done lightly. You are my kid ok? Mine, always. And I couldn’t be happier or prouder. No matter what happens I will always be your father. But Kit Kat you do have a biological dad as well. Maybe even a family. I can’t deny you the chance to look for them if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t care what’s in my stupid, corrupted DNA.” You yelled, snapping as the tears spilled over.

Tony pushed away from the wall and caught you as you started crumble. He wrapped his arms around you, pushing the cup onto the ledge of the rooftop so he could hold you.

“You’re my dad. You. I don’t want anyone else.” You sobbed into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s ok. We won’t go looking for him, it’s alright.” He murmured soothingly and stroked your hair.

He kept softly giving assurances and holding you as you cried out all your frustrations. You cried for a mother you never knew you had and a father you didn’t want to find. You cried for ever thinking Tony would give you up. Most of all you cried for every nameless subject and every failed experiment of Project Vernichtung.

Eventually you pulled away from him, though not to far.

“We have to find him.” You stated.

“Whatever you want. We’ll check every DNA database there is for a match, I’ll hire the best private eyes in the world.” Tony promised.

“What? No, not my biological father. I don’t want to even discuss him.”

“Then who?”

“The Doctor. Jack Docherty.” You said.

You pulled the piece of paper from your pocket.

“I knew I wasn’t his only victim but I could never really let myself think about it. That was selfish of me. We have to find him for her and all of the others who suffered and died because of him.” You said.

Tony had gone pale.

“I am going to hunt him down and I am going to kill him.” You vowed.

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

“Romanov I don’t care that she killed nearly two hundred people, I care that she was able to kill nearly two hundred people. It’s an important distinction.” Fury said through the phone.

“Thor could level most of the city with lightning, the Hulk could tear half the population apart. Even Stark could build a bomb that could decimate a continent if he wanted to. There’s no shortage of dangerous people on this team.” Natasha pointed out.

“And yet I’m not having to hide any of their killing sprees from the united nations.” He rebutted.

“Yet.”

“That a threat?” Fury asked.

“Not one aimed at you. Senator Stern on the other hand...” She said with a smirk Fury couldn’t see.

“Hill and I can’t keep covering for her. You’re lucky there was a dead mutant there to take the fall this time. And now we’re keeping her body count a secret from herself? This situations going to get real messy real fast.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Natasha said coyly.

“You know something I don’t Miss Romanov?”

“Always.”

There was a knock on her door and she hung up on Fury without a warning or goodbye, fully aware and uncaring that she’d pay for it later.

“It’s open.

Clint poked his head in the door and held up his phone to Natasha.

“That was Rogers, he and Barnes are en route with your package.”

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

You woke the middle of the night, tossing and turning, shaken and clammy. You’d had the strangest nightmares but you couldn’t say what they were about. Fragmented images of corpses with no limbs taunting you and shattered mirrors dripping with blood were all you could recall.

You warily tried to shake it off as you untangled yourself from the blankets cocooning you and decided to steal some of Bruce’s calming herbal tea. It wasn’t to your usual tastes but it seemed to work on him since he was always so calm. When he wasn’t big and green that was. You left your room and stealthily crept down the hall so you didn’t disturb any of your slumbering neighbours.

You padded quietly into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. There was a light coming from the fridge and you blinked sleepily at the dark figure stood in front of it as he stiffened at your approach.

“You’re back.”

“We got back a few minutes ago.” Bucky said.

He turned slowly and looked at you, his eyes flickering over you in what looked like concern. You gasped lightly at the site of him. There was a large purple bruise covering the right side of his face and a small cut on his cheek.

“Trouble on your mission?” You asked worriedly and opened the freezer.

“Mission?”

“The others said you and Steve were on a mission for Fury.” You said as you rummaged in the freezer.

“Right. Didn’t think anyone would have said anything.” He stated.

You found what you were looking for and pulled out an Ice Pack. There were usually always a few of them in the freezer, a necessity when you were living with Superhero’s.

You moved to stand in front of him and pressed it gently to his cheek while your eyes checked him over for any other noticeable injuries. You were startled out of your visual examination by him gently grasping your wrist in his hand but he didn’t try to move you, just held your hand to his face.

“What are you doing?” He whispered.

Your actions only dawned on you then and you pulled your arm from his grasp.

“Sorry, I’m half asleep. Must be too tired to hate you properly.” You joked nervously.

Bucky looked at you curiously and you awkwardly backed up a step to put room between the two of you.

“So you actually have to put effort into hating me, it doesn’t just come naturally to you?” He clarified with a smirk.

“What? No, that’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you said doll.”

“I got hit really hard on the head, I was in like a mini coma for three days. My concern for your stupid face is just a side affect. Temporary insanity. I still think you’re an insufferable asshole.” You assured him.

He just grinned at you and took a step forward, closing the gap again and slowly reached out and gripped your arm, pulling your hand back up to his face.

“What are you doing?” You parroted his earlier question back at him.

“It still hurts, the ice helps.” He explained.

“Oh, ok.”

It took you an embarrassingly long minute to realize he could have just taken the ice pack from you.

You could have pulled your hand away but for some inexplicable reason you didn’t. Instead you stood there in the near dark with him, gently holding the ice against his bruised cheek. It was calm and tranquil and completely out of character for the two of you and yet neither of you moved.

@dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty @memanda17 @krystallynx @theonelittleone @piscesbarnes @free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot @captainamericasbeard @buckybearbabe98 @nerdandproud-86  @clarkesardothien @harrison-shot-first @chook007 @thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala selvala

@the-corruptor @iover  @buckitybarnes @kendrawr-kitkat @Pheonix-Whiskey-Tears @the–real-wombat@fairislesheets @angiept

@pizzarollpatrol @payformycollegepls

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 11- Your Smile, As Rare As It Comes- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: The Lothbrok men discuss the deal with Aelle. Ivar and Aaline box together.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: Arranged marriage, language, violence, sex, torture, mentions of rape

Word Count: 2370

Ch. 10

“Sometimes a deal with the devil is better than no deal at all.”

~ Lawrence Hill

“The deal is this. Aelle gives us twenty-five percent of his annual revenue in exchange for Aethelwulf’s safe return.” Ragnar knocked his knuckles against the surface of his desk. He glanced up to gauge his sons’ reactions.

 Björn seemed to accept this deal. He’d always had an unfailing faith in Ragnar. Ubbe and Hvitserk looked contemplative and Sigurd was too busy eyeing Ivar to provide a reaction regarding the deal. Ivar had his fingers steepled together and looked pensive.

“Is twenty-five percent enough to make up for what we lost?” Ubbe asked. Ragnar straightened. “It is. We lost,” He splayed his hands in front of him, looking to Björn. “Five million dollars.” Björn supplied. Ragnar nodded. “Five million dollars.” Ragnar sat back and spread his fingertips across the top of the desk, his hand arched up.

“Aelle pulls in, roughly, one hundred million a year, give or take, so,” He shrugged nonchalantly as his son leaned forward with renewed interest. “He’d be giving us around twenty-five million dollars which is five times what we lost. We’d be making money off this deal.” Ragnar finished with a flourish of his hand and sat back in his chair, the leather groaned against his weight. 

“I don’t trust him,” Ivar spoke up. Ragnar glanced up at his youngest son and regarded him with practical eyes. 

Ivar had been on edge since they met for breakfast this morning. He and Aaline had sat with everyone else and kept up the languid conversation but they were careful not to interact with each other. They didn’t touch each other and they made a point not to speak to each other. Björn told him that Ivar and Aaline had not shared a bed last night and that Ivar was up until the early hours torturing Aethelwulf. 

This worried Ragnar. 

Ragnar truly felt that Aaline and Ivar would be good together. He saw similar traits in them and they were both such independent spirits. He knew that his son was difficult but he hoped that their wedding night would be a good place to start learning more about each other. Clearly, they were not of the same mindset. 

Ragnar nodded. “I do not trust him either, my son, but we are trying to make peace. We have something Aelle wants and he has something that we want. It is a mutually beneficial agreement. We will have precautions in place but I feel that this will be good for us.” 

Ivar nodded but did not look convinced. He dropped his hands into his lap and looked away, his jaw clenched tightly. Sigurd snorted and shook his head. Ivar slowly brought his head back around to his brother but said nothing. 

Ragnar eyed his older son and cleared his throat. “Is there something you want to say, Sigurd?” His tone was not polite and was filled with a heavy warning that strongly implied that Ragnar wished for Sigurd to remain silent. Sigurd was not much for reading into his father’s warnings and spoke anyway. 

“Ivar just pissed because his new wife kicked him out of their bed last night.”

All the brother’s tensed and Ivar’s nostrils flared. Ragnar rapped his knuckles sharply against the desk and pointed a threatening finger at Sigurd. “None of that. Not today. We need to discuss meeting places for Aelle.”

Ubbe shifted in his seat, straightening his jacket. “We should make it public. Somewhere with lots of bystanders, innocent people so he’d be less likely to try something.” Ragnar nodded, looking up towards Björn. 

“I agree with Ubbe. The more public the better. It’d be harder for him to get away with something that way. He’d be more likely to do what he said than go back on it.” Björn shifted his feet and nodded once as if he was reassuring himself.

Ragnar looked back at his other sons. “Anyone else?” When no one made a move to speak, Ragnar nodded and stood up. “Excellent.” He buttoned his jacket. “Hvitserk, I want you to do some research, find a place nearby that is public but not so much so that Aelle gets nervous. Ubbe, Sigurd, compile a team of our most trusted men to complete the deal. Björn, once we have our place, I want you to call Aelle and remind him that he has,” Ragnar looked at the calendar on his desktop. “Nine days to come up with the money before our deal is rescinded. Ivar,”

Ivar stood when his name was called and waited for his instruction. He didn’t have a good feeling.

Ragnar stepped in front of his youngest son and placed his hands on his shoulders. He smiled and brought his hands up to Ivar’s face, cupping his cheeks and stroking his thumbs over the bones. “Talk to your wife.” He patted Ivar’s cheek with affection before he could brush him off. 

Sigurd snorted and Ivar turned to watch his father leave, seething.

.

Aaline was shadowboxing when Ivar came in. She didn’t see him so he leaned against the wall and watched her for a while. 

His anger over last night had dissipated. He understood the reasons behind her anxiety and swore to himself that he would figure out what had happened to her. She’d clearly been assaulted in the past. She said to him that no man would touch her without her permission again so someone had done it once already.

Ivar felt a boiling anger roll beneath his skin and he shook it off. There were two kinds of people in this world that Ivar hated: liars and rapists. The worst kind of people. One you could never trust, never get close to for fear of their betrayal. The other was a coward who thrived on power over defenseless women. 

Power was something Ivar understood but there was something so much more satisfying about gaining it from more powerful men than yourself. Taking power from someone who already had tasted better than taking it from someone who didn’t. 

Aaline was his now, anyway. Whether she liked it or not, he had a responsibility to her. She was his to protect and care for. He would find out who had hurt her and he would make them suffer. He just had to wait for her to come to him. He couldn’t force her to tell him, that would just push her away. No, he’d wait until she was ready and willing.

“Are you just going to stand there or do you intend on joining me?” Ivar snapped his eyes up when she spoke. She had stopped shadow boxing and was staring at him with her hands at her sides. 

She didn’t look angry which Ivar took as a good sign. She also didn’t look apologetic with Ivar admired. He was not sorry for the things he said and did the night before and he’d lose respect for her if she was. 

It was an admirable trait to mean what you said. Few people had it for fear of the outcome but Ivar had never been afraid to speak his mind and follow through on his actions. It looked like Aaline was the same. He knew that they would need to discuss what had happened last night and Aaline’s assumptions but that could be tabled for a later date. 

Now, he wanted to box with his wife. 

He shuffled forward and stepped into the ring. She moved back and made room for him. He eyed her frame before meeting her eyes. “You stand Southpaw but you’re right-handed.” He had noticed her stance the first time he saw her training but he hadn’t said anything up until now.

She nodded. “I’m right-handed but my visions better in my left eye.” Ivar nodded and jerked his chin towards her. “Show me.” She hesitated before dropping back into her stance. Ivar circled her slowly, pushing and pulling on areas to test her strength and move her into a better position. 

He came back around to her front. “Have you always fought southpaw?” She straightened and shook her head. “No, I started orthodoxly but my trainer noticed that I took more hits when I did so he had me try southpaw and I never went back.” Ivar grinned and she shared his smile.

He dropped back into his own stance and held his hands up on either side of his face, pushed out towards her. He nodded once and jerked his chin. “Hit me.” She tilted her head and eyed him warily, a small smile making its way across her face. He nodded again and she shrugged slightly. She fell back into her stance and began throwing jabs into each of his hands. 

Soon enough the gym rang out with their mixed laughter.   

.

Ragnar poured two glasses of bourbon. He carried one in each hand as he turned back to his desk. He handed one to Lagertha and set the other down before taking the seat beside her. She smiled at him and tipped the glass before taking a drink.

Ragnar tilted his head towards her before he sat back in his seat, waiting. 

She didn’t usually stay so late in the night. She had a penthouse apartment across the city that she preferred with Astrid there to warm her bed. There was something on her mind and Ragnar was willing to listen but she had yet to speak.

She was slow to consume her drink, relishing its taste and gathering her thoughts. Ragnar was patient and he would wait. 

He and Lagertha had been married for several years and she had been his closest confidant even longer. She was his second-in-command and he made no decisions without her input or advice. She was important to him.

He knew that whatever she wanted to say had something to do with Ivar and Aaline. Aaline had been speaking mostly to Torvi and Sibylle about her marriage to Ivar and Torvi kept nothing from Lagertha. The only reason Ragnar knew that Ivar had not spent the night with Aaline was because Aaline had confided in Torvi and Torvi told Björn and Lagertha. Neither one of them kept anything from Ragnar so he was going to find out from someone. 

There was not much else on Lagertha’s mind besides Ivar and Aaline. Much like him, she cherished the women that his sons married. Even though Björn was her only living child, she loved the rest of Ragnar’s sons like they were her own. She stepped up after Aslaug died and they all appreciated her for it. 

She took all the women under her wing, teaching them the workings of Lothbrok men and how to be the wife of a made man. She taught them about the business and about the law, encouraging them to get involved. She was never one to sit on the sidelines and look pretty and she didn’t want the rest of the women to do that either. 

Some of them were better about taking her advice than others but she cared deeply for them all. She didn’t want to see them get hurt and she would be the first to step in if one of the daughters-of-Ragnar was mistreated in any way, even if it was her husband who had mistreated her. 

The girls were important to Ragnar and Lagertha and they wanted them all to succeed. They both knew that Ivar and Aaline would be difficult to unravel but they anticipated the challenge.

Lagertha placed her empty glass on the edge of the desk and smiled over at Ragnar. He smiled back and continued to wait.

“I know that Ivar and Aaline’s wedding night did not go as expected.” Ragnar snorted and shook his head, sitting back in his chair. Lagertha gave him a look that still made Björn shudder but continued on. “Honestly, I don’t know what I expected but that wasn’t quite what I thought would happen.”

Ragnar sighed loudly and slouched low in his seat like a child at the dinner table. “I didn’t expect them to have sex but I didn’t think she would kick him out.” Lagertha arched a perfect blonde eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. Ragnar looked chagrined and shrugged. “What?”

She clucked her tongue and sat up straight, sitting on the edge of her chair like a proper lady. “Is that what Björn told you? That she kicked him out?” 

“Well, why else would they sleep in different rooms?” Ragnar was bemused. Björn hadn’t gone into great detail but he said that words were exchanged and Ivar slept in his room while Aaline slept in hers, the only sign of her presence having been her crumpled and ripped wedding dress.

Lagertha clucked again and Ragnar huffed. “She was frightened.” Lagertha gave him a meaningful look as she picked up his full bourbon glass and began drinking it. “Why?” Ragnar sat up straight and folded his hands. If Aaline was scared of Ivar then they might have a problem.

“I think she thought he would take advantage of her.” Ragnar gave Lagertha disbelieving eyes and she cocked her head to the side. “Be honest, Ragnar, knowing her history and the situation, did you really think she wouldn’t be afraid.”

Ragnar grunted and thought back. 

He did a mental catalog of Aaline’s history and agreed that it was a plausible reaction. Having known Ivar so little and being thrust into unfamiliar territory, he understood why Aaline would be frightened. “Poor girl.” He murmured. Lagertha grunted and drained his bourbon.

“I have a good feeling though.” She said. Ragnar looked over at her and grinned. “Do you?” He stood up and took both empty glasses back to the bar cart.

“Yes. They are too similar and too different. They have enough in common to find even footing but are different enough to keep each other on their toes.” She nodded, her face distant, lost in the possibilities. Ragnar chuckled as he refilled both glasses.

“Yes, I think this will turn out very well. For both of them.” Lagertha said, taking Ragnar’s offered glass. They clinked glasses and drank deeply.   

Tags: @littledeadrottinghood @feyrearcheron44 @jay-bel @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings 

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Hold the door (BC x Reader)

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Warning: Spoilers for GoT S4 & S6 E5

Summary: Fantasy can be brutal yet be addicting after a long day of work. Fortunately, a dearly loved kangaroo knows how to lessen the pain of the politics of Westeros.

Author’s Note: Top o’ the morning!

This is my first piece for Stray Kids since they are slowly taking over my life and especially Chris (Bangchan). Hopefully, despite this being not BTS-related for once, it is still an enjoyable read.

For any Stays reading this and who are not acquainted with my works as of yet: I hope I do not disappoint.

Masterlist

A good story evokes emotions with its imagery and plot line, even more so when actors play out the scenes which are craftily adapted to a visual new format despite being written first in ink. The series ‘’Game of Thrones’’ is a splendid example of what might happen in a scenario in which the story hits harder than expected, beloved characters dying left and right while the audience can merely look on in horror.

Or cheer in delight in Joffrey’s case.

The day at work at the café in the centre of town had been hazardous, the arrival of spring break ensuring lots of tourists to come in to taste and photograph the seasonal specials while enjoying the gradually becoming warmer sunny weather. The entire shift literally consisted of creating soft sweet sakura custard buns and sweet lush green mochis decorated with a rice dough cherry blossom and petals, slicing up the slightly floral cheesecake with a pink inside that had to be remade perhaps four to five times due to the high demand. Not to speak of the effort to deliver with making the time-consuming coffees and hot or cold cocoas befitting the abundant fall of sakura around the village. However, such are the duties of being part of the already small team: each person has to be able to work all-round when this time of the year comes despite there not being too much patronage otherwise since the city is not that big nor well-known.

But every exhausting shift makes a mini-marathon in the evening of the new season of ‘’Game of Thrones’’ all the more deserved, simply sitting back on the comfortable creme-coloured love seat with a cup of freshly prepared ice coffee and either a tub of cookies and cream ice cream or a protein bar in the same flavour. Fortunately, it is not minded by the boyfriend of one and a half years since the blonde athletic boy can mostly be found at the gym in the evenings when not hanging out with friends.

Nonetheless, Chris’s absence is more of a curse since the first episode of the night has a grander impact on the psyche than expected, making a firm hug that is mostly tried to be escaped from under normal circumstances now dearly desired. Too many impactful emotional events follow each other up at the end of the sixth season’s fifth episode, triggering the rare reaction of tears in eyes that can merely watch and a palm wrapped over a speechless mouth.

The response is even powerful enough to miss the click of the front door of the shared apartment and the dull thump of the ashen buffalo bag filled with sports gear in the tiny entryway leading to the studio, much less so the giggle following the habitual greeting of “I’m home, babygirl”, which is still awkward despite the many times it has been uttered.

‘Hey, Y/N, are you, wait, are you crying?’ As soon as the credits roll over the screen and the DVD is paused, fingers unclasp from paralyzed lips to wipe away the watery traces of the damage done by mere yet gripping fantasy which stirs the youth to rush over to the couch and rapidly take place on the empty spot formerly occupied by bare feet, making a sorrowful being bounce slightly with the impact of the sudden additional weight. Firm veiny arms are immediately clung onto when they initiate an unbreakable embrace, one slender hand placed protectively on the top of the head, cradling it against the shoulder. ‘What happened?’

No answer comes per direct, first throwing out every bit of frustration thanks to fantastical explicit cruelty while holding on to an oversized sweat-soaked onyx shirt but not minding the hint of sourness to the characteristic scent of minty soap. The golden-haired lad resembling a kangaroo when fired up with energy has taken on the tranquil appearance of a koala, its counterpart, and simply waits patiently until the incoherent blabbering attempts at voicing a reason for the silly behaviour gain a sense of logic. Simultaneously, the left upper arm is being rubbed in uncomprehending close solace, chin resting on the crown of the head when not giving soft caring forehead kisses and whispering soothing nothings.

At last, after a good while of crying, it is dared to look Chris in the eye to tell what forms the reason for the curious distress. Nevertheless, it is an obvious fact the thumb caressing the cheek while explaining forms one of the support pillars which keeps speech steadier than it would be without. ‘Geo- George R.R. Martin is a bastard. He- He let Bran’s wolf be killed by Whitewalkers and- and... Hodor...’ A heavy sob. ‘M- mea- means “ho- hold the door”...’

The very vivid thought about the death of the kind giant at the door arises, initiating a continuation of the lament created by a splendid bastard of an author’s writing. The hug tightens, a rumble in the trained chest beneath the slick flowy fabric resulting in an adorable chuckle as tears stream down a pale neck. ‘You take it way too seriously, Y/N. It’s just a story. Nobody’s actually dead, everything is fine.’

‘Shut up, Chris, you do- don’t know what power George has.’ It is incredible how ‘’Game of Thrones’’ has escaped the attention of the Australian platinum youth, but at the same time places him in a disposition of ignorance about how sensitive talk about the show can be. Certainly for long-time viewers who have likely seen their favourites be brutally murdered in favour of plot progression.

‘No, I don’t, but how about you show me and I’ll try to protect you from it?’ Hazel irises light up at the prospect at one of the most loved things aside from the steady relationship with a girl who gets carried away into fantasy too often and, judging by the broad smirk that begins to form, the continuation of the proposal is nothing surprising yet deliciously loving. ‘With food?’

‘Tha- That’s your solution to ev- everything, isn’t it?’ A careful curl of the corners of the mouth forms out of the sorrowful expression at seeing the genuine giddiness at a second dinner or, rather, late night snack together. Although, it also arises out of the vivid images quickly flashing by of the personified koala’s silly movements whenever something tastes incredible, the funny habit always a cause for affectionate laughter and a source of confidence in the at times doubtful personal cooking skill.

‘It always makes you smile,’ a stray strand is tucked behind the ear, plush roseate lips placing a sweet kiss on the forehead, ‘I’ll first take a shower and then prepare some tteokbokki. How about that?’

Unconsciously, a consenting eager nod is already given before the reaction can be even thought about, the stomach having overtaken demeanour out of anticipation of the small rice cakes. ‘Extra spicy?’

A slight nervousness slips into attitude, eyes holding a silent plead for toning down on the spice levels because the last time they were too high for most to handle, Cris’s friends who came over for the monthly movie night all frantically reaching for cucumber and milk to nullify the impact while trying to save the fellow Australian of the group at the same time. Withal, howbeit while clearly contemplating to adjust the amount of gochujang regardless of the request, the proposal is agreed to. ‘Sure, extra spicy it is. Now, don’t you dare continue in the meanwhile or I won’t cuddle you for the rest of the week.’

A sceptic roll of the eyes, finding no credibility in the statement considering the personality of the speaker. ‘Oh, come on, we both know that’s an empty threat.’

The slightly loosened embrace tightens to a literally breathtaking degree once more, but now it is tried to be escaped as is normally the case when the blonde youth tends to get cheesily clinging. ‘Or I hug you to death, your choice.’

‘Let me go!’ Any type of resistance results in the opposite, becoming more and more the prisoner of secure loving arms instead of a free woman. Notwithstanding, it cannot be said it is minded, though the rumbling in the stomach betrays the recently realized craving for food that can only be had when giving in.

‘Not before you answer.’ The heavy weight suddenly tipping the scales cannot be prevented from being the oppressor of the strength that is unable to lift it, head hitting the soft pillows of the sofa on the other end as the sporty lad with dewy skin maintains the firm hug. A delighted playful chuckle sounds at the realization of having the held figure exactly where she is apparently wanted, unable to be freed before having made a decision. ‘Well, what’s it gonna be?’

‘Either way, you’ll suffer. Option one leaves me alive but you’ll get cuddle withdrawal symptoms. Option two leaves you without your favourite squishy.’ An eyebrow rises in challenging mockery which will only worsen the circumstances though the sarcasm cannot be helped. Just as in the brutal series, if you play smart, you shall survive. And this preferred victim of affection, this most beloved fighter of clinging hugs, has plans to survive the night.

‘Aren’t you clever, turning my own words against me?’ A lopsided smirk forms on the koala boy’s face, eyes illuminated by playful lights.

‘In the Game of Thrones, you live or you die and I intend to do the former.’ Henceforth, a cute sweetness slips into speech as lips irresistibly pout, manipulating Chris even further into hurrying up in fulfilling the promise of tteokbokki and stop stalling the rest of the well-deserved marathon. ‘I’m hungry.’

Blonde locks bow in amused defeat, shaking briefly with acknowledged surrender before gazes lock again. ‘I have no idea what that reference means, but you win this time, Y/N. Can’t let my babygirl starve.’

The characteristic awkward laughter accompanying the nickname by default ends the topic of debate, the kangaroo boyfriend lifting himself off a half-crushed no longer entirely torn by fantasy figure to finally shower. In the absence filled with the lingering traces of songs sung with an angelic voice, more pillows and a thin ornately decorated blanket are gathered for properly snuggling up with delicious food and an amazing but heartbreaking brutal show.

Sweater paws clad in a soapy mint oversized sweater wrap around the platinum youth’s waist to give him a taste of his own medicine, trying to show how inconvenient it can be when a person is basically glued to you during household tasks, which lets them become increasingly more complicated due to the loving gesture. Withal, it does not have the intended effect as the young man manages to get along with making the rice cakes coated in a fierce red sauce just fine although it does pose a bit of a risk when a small hand reaches out for the gochujang tub to add more to the sauce and the chef obviously not consenting to this idea, the dispute resulting in play fighting that almost turns the fire pit open too far without further notice.

The tickling almost results in burns and burned clothing, the just as touchy retribution barely short of ending in a trail of sauce stains leading from the kitchen floor to the fake black leather loveseat thanks to fingertips poking sides. Regardless, it is managed to be reached without further ado, the cruelly incredible series resuming with one strong arm wrapped around the shoulders, a warm meal split in two put into two laps sitting side by side. Occasionally, a chewy tteok is fed with a content smile from the bigger portion of the athlete eating like a starved man, who is evidently as happy with the result of the obstructed cooking as the appreciating look in the eyes of the accepting mouth, going by the happy wiggles accompanied by tuneful hums.

And thus the imaginary intriguing political game synonymous to crimson onslaught continues, because the questioning, at times shocked, comments made out of ignorance brighten the mood due to their silent request for an explanation, delighting the nerdy fangirl within to no end.

Keeping the worst of silly emotions at bay.

Holding the door.

[a-sprinkle-of-geeky]

12 Hours. (Part Two)

Welcome.                Part One.

This story contains blood, murder and quite a bit of violent angst.

This particular part contains kidnap. Be cautious when reading if you are sensitive.

.

Clyde was organising the shelves within the medical office. Tuesdays were days he dedicated to cleaning his work space and being a member of the medical team who dealt with horrid injuries almost daily made it useful. By the following week the office would be littered with files, coffee mugs and the odd tool that their tired eyes couldn’t spot at first. He has such a system of cleaning that he is barely aware of it and those who work with him know it by heart so it is not very difficult to find things.

Outside was pouring with rain but he didn’t mind, it meant that the flowers in the facility garden would be watered and seeing them lush with life would make Anthony happy. Anthony is a very fragile being who suffers with dangerous depression and anxiety after the murders of his family members, he found comfort in plants and enjoys watching them grow with his partner, Theo. Clyde looks after him as his main doctor for the occasions Theo brings him in after he harmed himself or to act as emotional support.

He is replacing each binder in alphabetical order when his colleague, Levi enters with a glass of water.

“Your medication is in your top drawer, Levi,” Clyde says. It is currently noon and the older doctor takes medication to keep his various burdens stable.

“I know,” He replies, opening his drawer and taking out the red bottle of medication.

“Is your back hurting again?” Clyde questions, eyeing his downgraded posture, “You need to talk to Sage.”

“I’m not bothering him about it, he’s still getting used to his new arm,” Levi replies, quickly swallowing the pills and the rest of the water.

“Yes but I’m sure seeing you in pain won’t make him feel better,”

“I’m always in pain, Clyde. The only reason I have not wasted away is thanks to these damn pills,” He scoffs at it, discarding the plastic bottle back into the drawer and pushing it shut. “Just stay out of it, you do not have to stick your nose into everything.”

The doctor defers and turns away, not saying another word since it isn’t worth getting into a battle of wit against Levi. He can’t blame his demeanour, however, since he’s got a lot on his plate. With Sage losing his arm and caring for his adopted son with autism as well as all of his own emotional and physical turmoil it must be incredibly difficult. Clyde has tried connecting to Levi but it was always the same results, either being ignored or grunted at.

Clyde still remembers what he had said the day he tried again to bond with Levi and he knew he stepped over a line when he asked what had given him the artificial organs. It was a pause and a cold glare through his different coloured eyes.

“You know what, Clyde? Why don’t you stay out of my past, it’s got nothing to do with you and I’m sick of you trying to stick your nose into my life. It’s such a waste that such a great mind is so intrusive but I suppose that can be expected, the intelligent are usually nosy prats! When it comes down to it, I don’t consider you my friend so giving on trying to create something between us because all you are to me is a colleague. Because if I had to make a choice between you and my own life I’d choose my own. I’d never put my life on the line for you.”

After that he left him alone.

When he comes out of the daze he realises Levi has disappeared again and he sighs, finishing with his cleaning. He reaches the windowsill, noticing that the potted flowers are starting to go white at the stems. A small bunch of calia lilies that he had placed there. They must not be getting enough sunlight. Clyde is done cleaning the office so he picks up the pot, intending to replant them in the garden and perhaps replace the blank spaces with succulents. 

He makes his way down the halls and staircases of the facility, past the offices and the security cameras, to the gardens. Clyde opens the door with his ID and steps out into the rain, not planning on replanting the flowers at this moment due to the rain but leaving them in a place where he or Anthony will notice so he doesn’t forget. The doctor sets the plant on the garden work desk and hurries under the overhang again, he’s just about to head indoors again when he hears a groan of pain.

His eyebrow raises and he turns back slowly. “Hello..?” He asks loudly, stepping out into the rain again across a flower bed and creating footprints. There’s another groan from around the corner of the building and he raises his eyebrow in curiosity. It doesn’t sound like anyone he knows... perhaps another werewolf was left here?

When he turns the corner, his hands are cupped at his chest with concern and he looks around for any sign of the host of the pained noises. However, strangely, he finds no sight of a person nor any sign of injury. It isn’t until he hears the footfalls of someone who had clearly climbed on top of the overhang whilst he was walking and dropped behind him when he realises that it is too late. Clyde is grabbed harshly with one arm whilst a rag is smothered against his nose and mouth, muffling his inevitable shriek. 

He struggles and cries in terror, his hands grabbing onto the attacker’s wrists in attempts to pry it off as a sweet chemical floods into his lungs and through his head like cold water. Thrashing is fruitless because the attacker’s grip is like steel and every angle he moves his head to try and escape the rag only results in it being pressed harder into his face. His desire for air only inhales more of the drug as his legs collapse on themselves and he falls back on the attacker, who he can hear is shushing him eerily. 

Clyde’s cries start to weaken as his eyes fall heavy and the chemical numbs his entire body in a matter of seconds. His hands drop from the wrists of the unknown attacker as he starts to droop. Time disappears in that moment and he’s not sure what is happening anymore but he knows he’s lying against someone and he cannot feel the rain anymore. His vision hazes. He feels like he’s falling...falling down into warm liquid. In one last attempt to escape he tries to reach for his phone but he’s not sure if he even moved his arm. His last thought is about the worry he’ll cause Lucas before he slips under that feeling of warm liquid and his eyes shut.

.

His mind was foggy.

Awakening felt like his head had been released from a vice clamped around his skull and he takes a very choked, gulping breath that makes his head thump from the sudden oxygen. He groans. It took a lot of effort to come to his senses at first. He could smell wet metal, mould and stone which burnt his lungs when he inhaled. There was an ache in his neck as his head lolls drearily. 

The ringing in his ears dies down and he can hear a distant dripping of broken pipes and the menacing rumble of a generator or a boiler. His lungs felt numb and goosebumps were prickled all across his cold skin. Clyde could only hear his breathing.

First he tries to move but he can’t. At first he thought he was too numb to so he waited until the pins and needles settled before trying to move. This time he feels the tight bindings of rope tying his wrists to the arms of a chair judging by his position and his breath hitches. Clyde tries to move his legs to find that they are also bound to what can only be the legs of the chair. He tries to lick his lips but he realises that he’s been gagged and that’s when the panic sets in.

It takes a tremendous amount of will power but the doctor opens his heavy eyes and lets them adjust. Clyde observes his wrists. He’s been stripped down shirtless with no shoes and layers of what seems to be climbing rope around his wrists, ensuring there’s no way it can be frayed or snapped. Trying to control his breathing is almost impossible as that fear sets in. He lifts his swirling head to look at his surroundings, trying his best to cry for help but his voice provided no sound besides whimpers.

He’s not sure what day it is. There’s no windows. He’s located in what looks to be in a basement. It’s so cold. There are rusted bronze pipes lining the walls which are the culprit of the dripping sound. He’s not sure what time it is. There’s a staircase directly in front of him leading up to a bolted door. There is no light besides a few dim tube lights. In the shadows he can make out some objects; a desk he can presume. There are cobwebs everywhere and a few dead spiders on the ground.

After what he can presume to be a few minutes the door swings open and he starts to cry in fright as three men descend the staircase. He struggles as best he can and squints at the figures as they come into view. He recognises them immediately and that makes him shriek as tears spill down his cheeks.

Flinar, Zyren and Kaito.

He hasn’t seen much of Kaito but he’s seen his profiles. A stern face with messily tied back blue hair in a short pony tail, cold purple eyes and pale skin. He’s built up from clear training, his hands having held countless weapons and clenched around steering wheels of the get away vehicles he drives.Yet he slouches and looks displeased at the sight of him, stepping back and letting Flin take his place. He’s holding a camera connected to a tripod in one hand with a laptop in the other, linked through a cable that makes Clyde’s heart sink.

“Zy, look! He’s crying already!” Flin exclaims excitedly, roughly grabbing his face and staring into his fearful eyes. “I love the ones that cry...”

His partner lights a cigarette and grunts in response, glaring at Clyde with a stare colder than the room. Zyren takes a drag, exhaling the smoke with that apathetic expression. “Do not try and escape. Even if you could get out of those binds you won’t make it out this room.” He says with no emotion.

“We’ve got twenty five people guarding outside!” Flin adds, grinning sadistically at the trembling doctor as he speaks, “We were originally gonna stick you in our basement but we didn’t want our location being discovered so we brought you to a place no one is gonna find you! You can scream all you want but ain’t no body gonna hear you!”

Clyde struggles again, his limbs aching painfully from the tight confinements. Fear is clawing down his cold skin as he breaks out in a sweat, his head still swirling from the chloroform. He’s whimpering and crying as Flin tugs at his turquoise hair roughly. Kaito sets up the camera, setting up the laptop on a metal stool with a frown on his face. After setting it up and he leans against the staircase banister and waits to press record.

Zyren finishes his cigarette at a slow pace, letting his partner have his fill of taunting and prodding their victim then, like a well trained dog, backs off when Zy approaches. He puts out his cigarette on Clyde’s arm, letting him cry and struggle in pain as a pink burn arose at his pale skin alongside the hiss. He flicks the butt away and grabs Clyde by their hair so his face can be shown clearly, with one glance at Flin his lover positions himself opposite, giggling feverishly.

“Now.” The elf orders apathetically and Kaito nods.

.

It’s been hours.

Clyde hasn’t been seen and any attempted calls go straight to voicemail. Even his GPS isn’t responding.

“The security cameras are being slow...” Austin, Lucas’ brother, says. “He was cleaning the office and was seen with potted flowers down the main hall a few minutes after noon. The last sight of him is him using his ID to go outside.”

He shows the footage accordingly to Lucas, who was worried beyond comprehension. A frown has furrowed on his face and his fingers are constantly tapping the desk or whatever surface he rests his worn hands on. 

Austin was the facility’s classic code breaker. He was knowledgeable and funny to those who knew him, wearing a woollen hat from his childhood he keeps for comfort. To strangers, however, he was a tired loner who’s diet consisted of protein shakes, water and the odd ray of sunlight that poked through the blinds. He stayed shut in his office when he wasn’t at home, tinkering with machinery and codes. He is in charge of the security system and had access to almost all files across the country as well as all of the locations of his co-workers. Except Clyde’s. 

“What about into the garden?” Lucas asks, his brain beginning to panic. Clyde was his biggest source of joy, he loved him more than anything and thought of him missing or in danger was starting to make him break down. Being the leader of such a large organisation, however, forced him to keep on a mask of calmness.

“Like I said...the outdoor cameras are being slow and they won’t load.”

“Why?” Lucas questions a little too quickly.

“I dunno,” Austin says, stretching in his chair, “Give it a few minutes. It’s almost done loading.”

Lucas starts to pace back and forth, calling Clyde for the countless time and biting down on his nail as he walks. Straight to voicemail. He leaves another message.

Then, a tab opens suddenly on his laptop - which he left on Austin’s sofa - with a loading bar. At the same time the outdoor camera footage pops up on screen as Lucas picks up the laptop and clicks at the tab. He cannot exit it nor can he edit it in any way. A sense of dread starts to overwhelm him.

Austin, chewing on the string of his hat, opens the footage to the current time. “Well, there’s the flowers he had,” He points to the screen and Lucas peers at it, “There’s just footprints in the soil...”

“Rewind it,” Lucas demands desperately as the loading bar progresses. Austin nods, rewinding it back to the exact time Clyde went outside. 

There’s a surge of movement that makes their stomachs flip as the leader sets his laptop upon the desk and leans closer as Austin plays it once more.

Clyde is seen exiting the facility with his ID as he carries the lilies in his arms. He walks under the overhang and sets them on the work desk he and Anthony use when they are gardening. He goes to turn back around when they notice a figure stood round the corner who had obviously made a noise that caught his attention. The doctor stepped out into the rain across the flowerbed and in that time the figure leaps up onto the overhang and drops behind him. They attack him with what can only be chloroform and Lucas’ hand clenches around Austin’s chair so hard he tears into it.

“O-Oh my god...” Austin stammers, stunned to silence as he watches Clyde stop struggling and fall into the grey elf, who picks him up and runs out of sight of the  facility cameras. On the road camera, however, a get away van speeds dangerously down the street and a random dog walker recoils in fright. Austin manages to pause it just before the van doors slam shut on the last frame. Kaito is driving intensely with Flinar and Zyren in the back as they throw Clyde into the van. “Oh fuck... no- it’s Flinar and Zyren-!”

As if summoned, the tab’s loading bar flashes with completion and a video begins to play that makes Lucas feel like his heart has been torn straight from his chest.

The first sound they hear is Clyde crying in terror and the brothers have to force their eyes onto the screen. What they see curdles their blood. The doctor, fastened to a wooden chair with rope, stripped shirtless, gagged and unspeakable panic in his watery eyes as he struggles to calm down. The couple are either side of them with no change in their demeanour since Flin is giggling and tugging at his hair as Zyren stands straight with no emotion on his face as he lights a cigarette.

“C-Clyde..” Lucas whispers in horror, his tail and ears drooping.

“Howdy!! You miss us?” Flinar asks tauntingly, his eyes wide with sick insanity as he continues to tug at their victim’s hair. “Look what we’ve got! Just a souvenir from your stupid bunch of morons!”

“We have your husband, Lucas,”  Zyren remarks coldly, glancing at Flin to stay quiet - which he does. “If you want him back - alive - you will do exactly as we say.”

“We’re tired of this place, it’s stupid, stupid, stupid!” Flin stamps his foot in agitation, releasing Clyde’s hair and growling. Zyren pauses, then proceeds to pull him by his waist and plant a loving kiss on his cheek to calm him down before letting go again. Flinar regains his bearings and grins again. “We want to get out of this dump and go to a new, better place! You won’t have to deal with us ever again and we won’t have to deal with you!! Doesn’t that sound perfect!? ...But...one tiny problem-”

“What we want is a pardon. For all our crimes,” Zyren orders with a stern glare to the camera, “All of it must be deleted so we may cross the border. In return we will give you back your precious little crybaby, alive. We will only breach his location once you wipe our database and after that, we will be out of your hair. We will automatically see the files - we have our databases.”

“And for every hour you don’t give us what we want...” Flin’s eyes show nothing but cruelty as he then presses his claws into Clyde’s throat, gaining a sob in return. “I’ll make sure you pay for it.”

“We will give you twelve hours,” Zyren speaks clearly, “The sooner you oblige the sooner you can have him back. If you do not fulfil our request in the time given we will send him back to you. But we will make sure that you cannot recognise his corpse,” Clyde wails at that, struggling desperately and crying for help behind the gag, “See? He wants to come home,” The elf grabs him by the chin and forces him to look at the camera, “It is ever so cold down here and my darling has been aching for some bloodshed.”

“A pardon in exchange for your sweetheart, seems fair. Don’t try and find us, either, ‘cause you won’t. And if you do Zy will shoot him in the eye,” Flin shrugs, his spiked tail curling devilishly, “We’ll make sure to send you updates on how he’s doing~”

And with one last cry from Clyde and a psychotic laugh from Flinar, the video shuts off and the pair are left speechless.

Lucas is shaking all over. His breaths are heavy and his eyes are wide with disbelief. It takes him a minute to comprehend that he’s not dreaming and by that time his teeth are clenched and his fists are shaking. 

Then, suddenly, the rage strikes him like a tsunami and Austin’s cup of tea is thrown at the wall with such force that the pieces go flying in all directions across the room and a crack is left in the wall. 

“Track them...” Lucas snarls, his body overcome with fury, “TRACK THEM!”

Austin nods, bewildered and spends a moment trying to reverse the sender address. But then he stops. “I can’t...” He says, horrified, “They’ve got firewalls and security tech that even I can’t breach. I-I could try but it would take hours and-!”

“Do it!” Lucas exclaims, tears running down his cheeks, “Please! Find their location, do it! Try your best, I’m begging you... I can’t lose him!”

“Lucas, please, you’re turning unstable,” Austin stammers, not used to this kind of emergency, “You need to breathe...I’m already working on it...”

Lucas loosens his fists and stares at the laptop. He can’t let those filthy monsters hurt Clyde. Every fibre of his being is telling him to listen to them but he can’t. Despite everything that those two are they are not liars; especially not Zyren. He knows what lengths they’ll go to.

If he listens and lets them out of the country then that would lead to worldwide backlash on his shoulders. Letting them into a country where he has no power would put the facility in danger. Every other country is no where near as experienced for that couple as they are, they wouldn’t be able to cope with them running loose with no knowledge on their weaknesses. If their database were gone they would be off the grid, there would be no way of other countries knowing what to prepare for and how to help the innocent people they would inevitably slaughter escape. That kind of power into Zyren’s hands would be catastrophic. The world would riot against them violently and it wouldn’t be just them at risk. If Lucas listened then it would be trading the lives of entire family, his friends, thousands of innocent people and ultimately Clyde in exchange for the most dangerous people in the country to roam free.

His mind is racing. He is stuck.

There’s no escape from this. Lucas can’t run away.

He has to break their cycle. He refuses to let Clyde be taken from him and he refuses to put the lives of everyone else in danger.

“Track their location. I don’t care what it takes,” He says coldly, breathing deeply, “I’ll crush those fuckers’ skulls myself if they lay another finger on him.”

.

Silver’s characters are very fun to write.

It’s a good sense of release for me since I’m current;y in exam season and am doing this between study time and art-block! Hopefully this turned out okay, I know it is a lot longer and, unfortunately, Read More tabs are back to being broken again so whoop-de-doo. Sorry to anyone scrolling by!

The next part will contain very angst-ridden and gruesome writing so only read on if you are okay will reading that!

See you later! <3

Part Three

[lookingforodysseus]

The Usual

A/N: SO, I usually don’t post stuff like this, but the wonderful @startrekkingaroundasgard​ had a 2K writing challenge about tropes and no one had taken the coffee shop AU yet, which I thought was a shame and a disaster, so here we go. Hope you enjoy :D

Tony had always thought he would despise working in the service industry. Given the amount everyone around him complained about it, he had expected he would be trying to commit harakiri with a milk frother within the week, since whatever Hades had in store for him would be less bad than dealing with one more person who pronounced cappuccino wrong.

And yet, now that he's here, he's enjoying himself. The coffee shop, called Impresso Espresso (insert forced laughter here), is across from a college campus, so most of his customers are caffeine-addicted students, hands shaking and eyes wide open from either too much Redbull or too much cocaine (it's a toss up at this age, really) and their professors, with under-eye bags so large they can put all the assignments they still have to mark in them, leaving their hands free for a carton cup with seven shots of espresso. Tony enjoys winking at all of them and trying to make them laugh, every smile a reward better than the free coffee that comes with the job.

During the classic afternoon lull, when the students are in bed and the professors in class, Tony puts the mechanics degree that put him deep in debt but didn't provide him with a job due to his well-meaning but obnoxious demeanour to good use by upgrading the ancient coffee machines, that were apparently purchased in the late seventies, max- or maybe modern technology just isn't as great as people often make it out to be.

Tony's manager, Matt, captain of the American football team who likes his coffee like he likes his math problems, simple, watches this thirty-something man become increasingly comfortable in a coffee shop populated mostly by those ten years younger or older than him with a mix between amazement and amusement. Besides, the coffee machines, that previously took ten minutes of gentle conversation with an increasingly impatient customer to create something as simple as a cup of tea, can now whip up a doppio in a record-holding 17.8 seconds, according to Tony. To Matt, it just feels like approximately 20 seconds, but, apparently, the exact time is of great importance to Tony, who, one night during midterms season when the coffee shop is open 24/7 to accommodate all the students pulling all-nighters, calls Matt at 3 am to announce he has shortened this time to 17.7 seconds. Apart from that hiccup, though, Tony is a good employee and Matt is satisfied.

On a dreary Thursday in February, one of the other baristas asks Matt: "Have you seen the professor around, lately? I feel like it's been awhile since we've had a queue of 20+ people- do you think he's ill?"

Matt smiles. "Don't worry about him, he's at a conference. He told me about it last time he was here, right before he told me off about not stirring his coffee correctly, or putting too much syrup in it. I'm not sure what it was that time, but it was clear he wasn't happy."

The barista laughs. "Is he ever?"

Tony, who is leaning on the counter, watching the students run by, text books over their head, more concerned with protecting their haircut than the $200 the book cost them, hears the comment. "Who are you talking about?" he asks, intrigued.

"Just this crazy customer who comes here a lot," Matt says. "He teaches something very scientific and complicated, and his order is absolutely ridiculous. You should be glad you're first month here has coincided with a four-week conference in Silicon Valley he had to go to. He's a nightmare."

Tony laughs. "Oh come one, he can't be that bad."

Matt rolls his eyes at the other barista, pulling off her apron now that her shift has ended. She waves at the two men behind the bar before exiting the coffee shop, the door being held open for her by a customer just about the enter the shop.

The customer enters the cafe, his eyes gliding over the neon Impresso Espresso sign behind the counter like he is disappointed still no one has realised what a horrible idea it was to put it there. Behind Tony, Matt sighs. "That'll teach me to speak of the devil. That's him, the professor. You take him, you've never had to suffer through his demands."

Tony steps up to the register just as the man reaches the counter. He is wearing thick, black glasses that almost completely hide his grey eyes. The top button of his checkered shirt is undone, but it doesn't look on purpose, more like he just forgot there was another button before he finished dressing himself. His large, black cardigan is wrapped around his body like a blanket. He is younger than Tony expected, for a professor being invited to month-long conferences. He also doesn't look like someone who has an order complicated enough to make his colleagues this bitter (pun intended).

When the man opens his mouth to place his order, Tony expects the other employees to have pulled a prank on him, expects the man to just order a black coffee, and maybe, maybe, make a joke about the colour of his soul. Instead, he hits Tony with this beauty of a coffee order: "I would like a latte, but instead of only milk, I would like half milk half hot water. The milk should be equal parts almond and coconut, with an extra dash of soy. Stir that exactly two and a half times clockwise. Then, add in a full glass of skimmed milk, that has been frothed for exactly 12.5 seconds, shake it up with ice, pour half of the drink out, and heat the other half up again, which needs to be stirred twelve times anti-clockwise at a temperature of 63 Celsius or 145.4 Fahrenheit. Take it off the heat at 98.7 Celsius or 209.67 Fahrenheit. I would like three and a quarter pumps of sugar-free vanilla syrup, seven packets of sugar, two pumps of caramel syrup, make sure to add that in after the sugar, otherwise you ruin the taste, and .4 pump of hazelnut. Then, I would like some cocoa powder, pour the coffee in with ice and shake it up again. I would also like whipped cream on top, but then please shave it off again, so there's only a little bit of whipped cream left. Pay with card, please."

Tony's mouth falls open. "You're kidding!" he exclaims. Behind him, he hears Matt snicker. The man begins to explain the importance of each individual step to the flavour of the beverage, but Tony interrupts him: "That's my order!"

A smile forms on the man's face, grey eyes sparkling. "Finally, someone with good taste around here," he says, giving Matt, whose jaw has slammed through the floor of the coffee shop and is currently making its way to the centre of the earth, a side eye. "You'll know the crucial timing of the stirring, then."

Tony nods. "Of course, of course," he says, with a stern face, fully aware of how important these things are. One of the reasons he had decided to start working in a coffee shop was that he would finally be able to make this order perfectly for himself. He can't believe another person with a brain as small as a human's has been smart enough to realise this order is the only way coffee is anything near drinkable. "Name?"

"Bruce," the man answers, and Tony hits the buttons on the register to allow the man to pay for his drink, even though he believes that thinking like that should be rewarded with a free coffee, before writing Bruce on the cup in his squiggly handwriting.

A solid twenty minutes and 27 grumbling people in line behind Bruce later, Tony presents the coffee with a flourish Shakespearean actors would be jealous of, putting a lid on the take-away cup before sliding it across the counter towards Bruce. "Oh, I don't need a lid," Bruce says, and pulls on the lid. However, in his enthusiasm, Tony has pressed down a bit harder than was fully necessary, and, no matter how much Bruce pulls, the lid is not giving way.

Tony snickers. "Well, someone's got muscles that would give the Hulk a run for his money."

Bruce laughs, too, and pushes the cup back towards Tony. "Can you do it?" Tony easily takes of the lid and slides the now lidless cup to Bruce. With a smile and a nod of his head, Bruce exits the coffee shop.

Over the next week, Bruce comes back twice a day, once in the early morning, and once for a pick-me-up in the middle of the afternoon. Tony learns his schedule quickly enough, and ensures he arrives a bit too early and leaves a bit too late for his shifts, so he can be there to make Bruce's coffee. He doesn't ask for the man's name anymore, instead scribbling Hulk, No Lid on his cup, something that amuses Bruce, which is only indicated by the sparkle in his eyes when he reads it. Most of Bruce's emotions seems to be conveyed through his eyes, and Tony starts making subtle alterations to his order depending on the look in them- an extra shot of coffee if they're especially tired, some more syrup when he's looking down, and some extra milk when Bruce's eyes are dull, in replacement for Tony's wish to put his hand on his stubbled cheek and his lips against his forehead to soften the pain he sees hiding behind the grey clouds in Bruce's irises. He knows Bruce notices, when his eyes regain some of the sparkle Tony had seen that first time they had met after he takes his first sip, thanking Tony with a simple nod of the head and a half-smile, which Tony cherishes more than the few coins Bruce drops in the tip jar whenever he visits the shop.

They talk every time, sharing jabs and ideas, words and looks, until Matt has had enough of it. One particularly rainy afternoon in March, he punches Tony's arm in a way that's soft for a quarterback such as Matt, but hard for a skinny 5'9 guy like Tony, and he has to take a side step to prevent himself from falling against one of the coffee machines.

"When are you finally gonna do something about that, man?" Matt asks. Tony raises an eyebrow, innocence painted on his face. It's as much of a forgery as most of Da Vinci's paintings, though, and Matt knows it. "You kids have been flirting under my nose for over a month now," he continues, ignoring the fact that both of the men he's talking about are at least ten years older than he is. "You need to make a move, dude. Now!"

Tony gestures at the window, where Bruce can be seen crossing the street to the college campus, coffee in his hand. "He's gone, Matt," he says. "What do you want me to do? Go after him?"

Matt nods enthusiastically. "That's exactly what you should do! Run after him, ask him out! Don't be such a wimp!" He pulls Tony's apron over his head and pushes him towards the door.

Tony struggles against Matt's indisputably superior physical strength. "I never took you to be such a romantic," he says. "Might harm that cool image you've got going on."

Matt snickers. "You're not talking your way out of this one, Tony," he says, opening the door with one hand and pushing Tony through it with the other. "Now, go!"

With not much other choice, Tony runs across the road, waving at the sleek black car that almost hit him, driven by an extremely annoyed-looking red haired woman who seems to have half a mind to simply step on the gas and run him over. He makes it across the street in one piece though, and yells: "Bruce!"

The other man is so shocked by someone yelling his name that he promptly drops his coffee cup. He spins around, hands risen next to his head as if showing he has no weapons. His wet hair is plastered to his forehead, and his navy blazer darkens where the rain hits him, since he isn't wearing a coat. Neither is Tony himself, he realizes, now that the rain is making his white T-shirt quickly turn see-through. "It's just me," Tony says.

"Oh, yes. Did I forget something?" Bruce pets the pockets of his blazer.

Tony shakes his head. "No, I eh… I…" He has always been a man of words, but now, faced with a nervous, drenched professor whose coffee is spilling all over the pavement between their feet, he doesn't know what to say. "Can I buy you a new coffee?" he asks, hating the clenched way his voice comes out of his mouth. "Maybe we could, you know, talk. Somewhere else than in there." He gestures at Impresso Espresso, where Matt is grinning broadly behind the windows. "Somewhere he can't see us."

Bruce smiles, with both his eyes and his mouth, and Tony has to resist the urge to run back and high-five Matt. "That would be nice. There's a decent place just up the road." He gestures in a vague direction, and Tony isn't sure which road he's indicating, but he doesn't care. He would follow this man to a coffee shop three cities over, if he really had to.

When they walk into the shop, water forms small pools by their feet, and a single, bored barista is leaning over the counter. The neon sign behind her reads Cool Beans Coffee Bar. Bruce sighs. "Do all coffee shops have those?"

Tony laughs. "Federal law requires it. That's top secret, though, don't tell anyone."

Bruce mimes locking his lips and throwing the key away, and, grinning, the two men step up to the counter. Tony eyes the other man. "The usual?"

Bruce nods. "The usual."

[poweredbycoffeeandwine]

I Don’t Mean To: Part 3

Look, it’s me, posting something again. My schedule is just a nightmare with work, kids, and coaching. It’s finally Spring Break, and I hope to write a few more with my other pairings as well. Anyway...have some Tavrien and Kaidan action. Hope you enjoy it! 

Kaidan Alenko x Commander Shepard - ME1 - (Masterlist here)

Unbelievable. The only other words for it were wildly inappropriate.  Kaidan couldn’t help but wonder how Ash would have reacted to the disaster that had just occurred. You really couldn't trust politicians. Udina had done worse than stab the Normandy team in the back. He had likely damned the entire galactic population to death, slavery, or something worse. The Reaper threat was all too real, but instead of backing Shepard, their only real hope, he had signed their collective death sentence.  Kaidan had only felt this combination of all-consuming rage and utter despair one other time. Udina would never know how lucky he was that Kaidan was a man who had learned from his past.

Shepard had held her tongue admirably, but Kaidan had clearly seen her concealed fury. Her lips pressed into a thin, tight line, the only outward sign she ever allowed during tense moments; and damn if that self-control didn’t make her more attractive. He would feel a little better about the situation if he could just find her. She had faced the lengthy tirade… suffering in silence until the Council and human ambassador politely dismissed her as delusional; and after double-timed it back to the Normandy. He could never admit that seeing the citizens of the Citadel fleeing from the path of this tiny Engineer was absolutely hilarious to him. He knew exactly how dangerous her tactical mind could be, but civilians jumping out of her way before she ran them down was a sight he wouldn’t forget.  Although he followed as closely as he could, by the time he got back to the ship Tavrien had all but disappeared.

He searched anywhere he thought she might be, even spots only he knew she sought for refuge. He considered they might be circling each other. Tavrien could very well be searching for solace, and, unable to find it at a successive line of her favorite haunts, continuing to the next. He changed tactics and made his way to the mess. Shepard was predictable to those perceptive enough, and when it came to her, Kaidan was quite vigilant.

His hands worked slowly, methodically prepping her favorite tea. She would need it to ease her stormy thoughts. This familiar task reminded him of the first time he had made her a cup of tea.  Remembering the startled expression on her face after Feros made him grin. Shepard had set at the table well into the night cycle devouring data pads on the mess Exogeni had made. He had set her favorite mug in front of her, picked up a report, and began to read alongside her. She stared at him for a beat too long before a beautiful smile broke across her face. He had been in deep by then, even if he hadn’t realized it.

Kaidan set her antique kettle to boil as Tavrien made her way to the lockers across the room. She had changed into her Alliance sweatpants and a black tank; and her long hair hung down her back, dripping from a recent shower. He watched silently as she haphazardly stuffed gear into her locker and slammed the door closed. He grit his teeth when her fist met metal; once, twice, three times, all in rapid succession. She let out a hiss of pain and slumped to the floor. Back to the lockers, she cradled her hand to her chest.

Her face contorted into a myriad of sorrow, anger and defeat. The sight nearly broke him. He took a calming breath, stepped forward and spoke, “We’re going to have one hell of a view for the end of the world, huh?”

She jumped, eyes finding him, immediately masking her emotions. “Lt, you’ve been working on stealth tactics,” she smiled slightly. “Nice to know you’re improving on your skill set.”  She rubbed her hands over her face looking worn down and discouraged. A small trail of blood beaded down from her knuckles, circling around her wrist. Kaidan’s lips pursed, brows contracted as he crossed the room to her in long strides.

He knelt in front of her, hand extended, eyes asking silent permission to assess the damage. After Virmire they’d declared feelings for each other, but had since decided to keep things between them as professional as possible. The mission was bigger than either of them, and they needed clear minds to succeed. Whatever was happening between them would wait until shore leave. Vivid blue eyes, vulnerable and full of affection, looked back at him, causing him to struggle to remember why he had agreed to put this on hold so easily.

Taking her hand in his felt so right. She made him feel giddy in a way he hadn’t been in so long. Rotating her hand, examining it for lacerations, his thumb skimmed the inside of her wrist. Her breath caught and she closed her eyes, resting her head against the locker. His fingers found her pulse on their own, and he couldn't help but notice the rapid beat. Clearing his throat, voice husky, he asked, “Can you move your fingers? Make a fist?” She complied, performing each action with only a small wince. “You did more damage to the locker than yourself, but let’s get you cleaned up.”

Kaidan stood, helping her to her feet. He pulled her forward more roughly than intended. She stumbled into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Kaidan steadied her around the waist, palms meeting the exposed skin of her back. Shepard sucked in a breath, and his eyes instantly flew to her mouth. The same mouth he had kissed once, the memory of that kiss kept him up most nights.

Shepard’s hand reached up to cup his cheek, thumbs gliding across his lips. “Tavrien,” he rasped, gripping tightly at her hips, “this can’t happen here. Anyone could see.”

She gave him a smirk that told him how much she cared. “A Reaper invasion is coming,” she moved her hand into his hair, nails scraping near his amp jack. “I’m not playing by the rules anymore.” She tilted her face, daring him to bridge the distance.

He tried to remember protocol, the fact that his career could very well end if their relationship was discovered. However, holding a woman his wildest dreams couldn’t have created, Kaidan by-the-book-Alenko couldn’t bring himself to care.

He felt her breath on his lips, and let his eyes drift closed as her lips met his tenderly. She melted into him slowly, tongue sweeping his bottom lip before deepening the kiss. He let out a groan, giving in, pouring every bit of his desire for her into it. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, not yet, things were still too new, but he hoped she could tell just how he felt. She clung to him, tiny moans escaping as she touched him.

A shrill whistle pierced the air causing them to jump apart in alarm. Kaidan’s face flushed as he stalked to remove the offending tea kettle from the heat, frustration building with each step. He braced his palms on the counter, head bowed, and attempted to regulate his breathing. She embraced him silently, body molding to his. She felt like heaven, all soft curves and muscle.

“You made me tea?”

“Believe it or not, I was actually attempting to make you feel better. You had a shit day, Shepard.”

“You are constantly surprising me, Alenko.” She murmured and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

Spinning to pull her back into his arms, he spoke quietly, “I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeve.”

“If they are up your sleeve,” she replied with a small blush on her cheeks, “maybe we should get this shirt off and have a look.”

Kaidan murmured his assent, and without waiting he scooped her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively,and his hips bucked into her. She shivered, peppering kisses along his jaw. She licked her way up the column of his throat sucking on the spot below his ear. Kaidan growled, and groped his way to her quarters. He needed this woman like he had needed nothing else and couldn’t believe she wanted him in return. The door slid shut, locked on her command, and he pressed her against it. His need to touch her overwhelming all other thoughts. She let her feet drop to the floor and she pulled his shirt off, hands trailing across his chest and down the planes of his stomach.

“You’re right,” she purred appraising his body with lust-filled eyes, “full of surprises.”

She kissed him again, her movements full of intensity and desire. Months of passion held in check for too long set free. She slanted her head to deepen the kiss, as he cupped her breast through her tank, fingers tangling in her hair, breath shuddering as she reached down and traced his aching erection through his pants.

“Sorry to interrupt, Commander.” Joker’s voice boomed, seeming louder than should have been possible through the blood pounding in his ears and the harsh sounds of their ragged breath.

She took a moment to compose herself, forehead pressed to his chest, before replying, “Joker, there had better be a god damned Reaper requesting permission to dock our ship.”

“Nope,” he replied, and Kaidan was sure he could hear a smirk in that bastard’s tone, “but I got a message from Captain Anderson. He wants to meet you at Flux, the club down at the Wards.”

“I’m on my way. Tell Wrex to suit up.” She sighed heavily, and pulled him into a hug. Kaidan wrapped his arms around her, one hand continuing to stroke her hair. “Ok, Alenko. Let’s find Anderson. The sooner we do, the sooner I can enact cruel and unusual punishment on our pilot.”

“Just promise me we will continue where we left off.”

“I don’t mean to let you off the hook that easily, LT.”

[velkynkarma]

End of Year Fic Meme

Better late than never, right? Keeping Parasite Knight posting on a daily basis was kind of exhausting so I didn’t have a chance to fill this out at the start of the year. Now I have time!

Thanks @maychorian for tagging me, sorry it took so long to get to it.

Stats:

List of Fics Posted:

Identity Crisis (38,460 words) (Young Justice, multi-chapter adventure team fic, complete) Routine Maintenance (50,777 words) (Voltron, multi-chapter, Shiro-centric with team features, complete) The Nature of Leadership (10,837 words) (Voltron, one-shot, Shiro-centric) Road Trip to End Times (12,649 words) (Voltron, multi-chapter, AU, paladin-centric, still ongoing)

Bonus: Parasite Knight (86,840 words) (Voltron, multi-chapter, Shiro-centric, complete) (was 100% written in 2016 but not posted until 2017)

Plus an assorted 5,636 words of notes for future stories

Total number: 4 (5 with Parasite Knight) Total Word count: 112,723 published in 2016 199,563 including Parasite Knight

Ship/Character Breakdown: No actual ships. All gen. Character focus: Robin/Dick Grayson 1, Shiro 2 (3 with Parasite Knight). But, RM, PK and Road Trip all have character focus on the whole Voltron team, so…not sure how to count that.

Do I favor Shiro? Yes, maybe a little bit, ahahaha.

Specifics:

Best/worst title?

Best title: I’m really partial to Routine Maintenance, even if the name doesn’t fit all the chapters particularly well. I also really like Parasite Knight because I struggled to come up with a title for that one, and that popped into my head. It was both fitting on multiple levels and it rhymed. ALSO it meant I got to call my writing file “Parasite Write” and I’m not gonna lie that really entertained me for stupid reasons. 

 Worst title: Road Trip to End Times. Titles are super hard for me to come up with and I was kind of in a rush to get the first of the prompts I’d written posted, so I just kinda took whatever first came to mind and slapped it in there. 


Best/worst first line?

 Best: “Shiro can’t put this off any longer.” ~The Nature of Leadership 
I kinda like that it immediately leaves you wondering, ‘wait, WHAT can’t he put off any longer?’ It’s a hook that means you gotta keep reading.

Worst: “It’s a miserable, exhausted, sweaty, mud-coated team of paladins that Shiro leads back to the Castle of Lions, after three days of trekking through the swamp-infested lands of the planet Ssagessh.” ~Routine Maintenance

This was my debut fic so I was still getting a feel for the fandom. I knew I had ideas that people would probably like, but I was a little worried that the first chapter I had chosen to start off with might not attract a lot of attention. It’s not a terrible opening but it had a kind of weak beginning.

Best/worst last line?

Best: “And, for the first time in a very long time, he feels surprisingly at peace.” ~Routine Maintenance Kind of funny that it gets the best last line but the worst first line. I really liked how the entire fic I was exploring Shiro’s difficulties and how frustrated he just was with his arm, and then finally I gave him a little peace at the end. It worked really well into the overall theme and I was really happy with the way this wrapped everything up, even if it was all individual scenarios and not one full fic. Worst: “He had a scientist to meet tonight, and it was an appointment he just couldn’t miss.” ~Identity Crisis I don’t really HATE this line per se, but it does require the context of the rest of the story to really make sense. Also, the entire last scene is completely unrelated to the main characters who had been the focus for the rest of the fic. I did it on purpose to replicate the way Young Justice episodes typically ended, but it also meant the character closure finished early, so this end didn’t have as much ZING as it probably could have.

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted? Honestly I hadn’t expected to write much of anything this year. I did Identity Crisis right at the beginning for a fanfic contest a friend of mine was throwing, but after that I just hadn’t gotten much of a creative spark out of anything. Most of the fandoms I’d been in were pretty dead or getting there. Or, in the case of Batman, alive but not something I really felt like writing for. I am genuinely shocked that I managed to kick out 161,103 words in the span of 3 months. That’s insane. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year? Voltron. Hands down. I watched Voltron on a whim when I needed something to motivate me through a massive art project. I used it just to give myself a goal after reaching a specific workload, since I’d run out of fic in my fandoms to use instead. I was not expecting it to be all that impressive, I just needed something to fill my breaktimes with. How impressive could a show based on a silly 80’s cartoon about combining five robot space cats into a giant robot guy be? I was not expecting to fall in love with it. After that I loved the show, and checked out the fandom. Again, this is often a killer for me as a fandom might not produce the stuff I’m interested in, or the writers just aren’t very good. Happily for me I stumbled across @maychorian ‘s Boom Crash almost immediately upon searching in the fandom and was like ‘shit, people in this fandom can WRITE’ and decided to stick around and lurk a little more. Honestly I only ever intended to lurk. I never intended to write for it. But then something just…happened and I thought of some ideas that eventually turned into Routine Maintenance, and then people really liked it and I felt like writing more, and…well. Here I am.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

I am really really REALLY fond of Parasite Knight and I was long before it was posted, so I’m gonna count it here, since it had 0 feedback/kudos/comments/reviews/etc in 2016. It was difficult to write in some cases, partly because it’s so intense a lot and that’s hard to keep up sometimes, and partly because it got WAY longer than it was ever intended to be. Originally it was conceived as a (fairly large) oneshot, but I kept coming up with more and more ideas and details that I liked too much to get rid of, and then it turned into an 86K monstrosity. Also this one was a little therapeutic in some areas (particularly at the end), since it dug into some less than comfortable areas of my own head-space. It was a bit uncomfortable to write some of the later chapters at first, but once they were finished I felt a lot better for it. So yeah. PK is kind of special to me.

Okay, NOW your most popular story. It’s a little hard to judge but I think this one is Routine Maintenance. It definitely has the most kudos, and has the highest comments-to-chapter ratio. Story most underappreciated by the universe? Road Trip to End Times has comparatively little focus compared to the rest of my stuff. I don’t really find it surprising though since it’s a zombie AU and that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Story that could have been better? Honestly I was pretty satisfied with everything I wrote this year. Some parts of some stories could have been tweaked a little but I didn’t think any one fic had an overall major failing.

Sexiest story? lol sexiness in my stories that’s a good joke Saddest story? Nature of Leadership does pull at the heartstrings a little. Parasite Knight is also pretty agonizing through a lot of parts. Most fun? Routine Maintenance! It was really relaxing to just do individual pieces without having to sew a whole plot together. There was definitely a theme through the whole fic, but it was really nice to not have to worry about plot-holes and things. I was able to just write and I kicked out like a chapter a day because it was all self-contained. Plus I got to play with all kinds of different scenarios. It was fun. Story with single sweetest moment? There was some H/C in Parasite Knight that I really enjoyed writing, but I’m not sure if it’s sweet exactly since Shiro was still suffering (or only partly aware) through a lot of it. I guess if I had to pick something sweeter, either Ghost or Weight from Routine Maintenance. Both center around Shiro getting relief from his prosthetic-induced pain and he’s so genuinely shocked about it but so grateful. Hardest story to write? Parasite Knight. As stated above, it was hella long, it really got away from me, and there were some gritty parts that were difficult to write for personal reasons. Don’t regret it for a second though. Easiest/most fun story to write? Routine Maintenance. See above. Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters? Parasite Knight helped me get into all of the paladins’ heads better since I had to write out their core traits in quintessence form. That was an interesting character study that made me really pull apart what their defining traits were, versus their extraneous traits (ex. Hunk’s reliability/kindness being a core trait, while his goofiness or love of food are extra traits that are a part of him but don’t define his soul). It was a challenge but fun. Most overdue story? None, really. I don’t post anything until it’s fully written, so nothing can really be overdue since half the time nobody knows it’s due. Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? Kinda! Half writing risk, half social risk. After Routine Maintenance finished posting I hadn’t really intended to write more, but then @bosstoaster  commented on it. I was at work when I got the notification and had to literally leave my desk to keep from screaming in delight around all my coworkers, haha. Since I was a veritable Voltron n00b to the fandom I was blown away that one of the gen bigshots even noticed me. But I knew BT also did prompts, and I was like, “Okay, but I know BT also enjoyed my writing, so…maybe I could propose a fic trade?” So I offered to do a fic trade with BT, because I kinda also wanted to write more but didn’t have any ideas at the time, and also wanted to try prompts, which I needed more practice on. I think it turned out really well in the end and The Nature of Leadership was written. It was also a challenge for me because I had to take a prompt I hadn’t decided on and make it work, but I like that it made me think outside the box a little. What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Let’s see…


Just keep writing. Focus more on steady writing and not burst writing.


Try not to get hung up on details as much. I know this is a thing I’m most known for, but it’s also responsible for slowing me down or killing ideas/writing momentum completely, because I have to come up with a reason for everything even if it’s never shown. Have to learn to just loosen up and write sometimes, I don’t have to justify every detail.

Maybe try more prompts? Might help with the above goal.

Try to write shorter stuff. (HAH. Operative word here being ‘try’)

That was fun! Eeeeven if it was me basically talking about the same 4 fics over and over again lol.