#and the cars going by on the street in the rain makes a nice noise too

[piplupod]

i think i am possibly the most relaxed and content that i have been in almost a year and its so nice

not having to feel like anyone is around to be angry at me or judge me and just being able to let my guard down even if only for a couple days is so so so nice. my sister will be home from work in three hours but until then i am alone and free and i could almost cry from how okay i feel for the first time in almost a year :')

[bamsara]

“It’s gonna rain. We won’t make it in time.” Thinking of the dudes getting caught in the rain 👀 (From twitch stream) :>

Sun x Reader | Wordcount: 1,150 | AO3 Version

CW for slight suggestive joke at the end.

Since their...seperation, from the pizzaplex, the Daycare Attendant has been a mixture of feelings towards the outside world.

They weren't alien to it, really. It's hard not to know about the outside world when the entire world's internet was inside your head and you had more memory, no matter how damaged it might be, bigger than what would constitute a human brain anyway. The Daycare Attendant is well aware of the outside world, customs and social rules, places and so on.

Expereinceing these things first hand, however, is a completley different matter entirely.

You have been out doing errands for hours longer than you should. The reason: you brought the Daycare Attendant along with you, and Sun is nothing but enthusiastic to interact with every single living being he saw, human or otherwise, which led to some really awkward conversations with humans surprised to see an animatronic act so openly, and the servant robots stare at their robot brethern that seemed to be walking around with much more freedom than they had yet.

"Sun, come on!" You're grabbing his wrist, pulling him away from the pet store window (he lets you, of course. You wouldn't be able to otherwise, but he still makes a pitiful noise as he's torn away from kittens and puppies) and steer him towards the bus stop. "It's the last run, we're going to miss it if we don't hurry!"

"Do you think it's good idea to take the bus again?" He asks. "Got quite a lot of stares on there, very rude! I don't think the bus is very nice."

You shoot him a look over your shoulder. "Wasn't that your idea? We took the bus because you don't like riding in the car."

"I still don't like the car."

"Then we take the bus!

"We've decided we don't like the bus either!"

Your hand has fallen from his wrist, but you don't worry about him fallen behind as you walk briskly; his legs were longer, took wide strides, and he's gotten into the habit of hooking fingers into the cease of your hoodie so he doesn't loose you.

You briefly joked before that it reminded you of how children hold guiding hands. Sun replied by saying it's more along the lines of keeping a dog on a leash.

Thunder rumbles a bit above you. The clouds are starting to close in. You didn't bring an umbrella, but at least you wore layers today. "Well, the bus is what's gonna keep us out of the rain. I don't feel like walking home all soaked."

"Aw, really?" Sun's voice is teasing. He doesn't appear bothered, or surprised by the sound of an incoming storm. He hasn't since that day on the balcony of your apartment. "I could act as an awning, if you like!"

To emphsize his point, he cranes over you, arms extended and faceplant pointed downwards with a playful style like it was him and him alone that could protect you from the rain soon to come. A few droplets land on your shoulder, one of his sunrays and drips back down to your nose. "Stop stalling!"

"Just a jest!" He laughs, and allows himself to be pulled along further down the street, narrowly avoiding a wide-eyed couple. "We both have hoodies! Shoes! Smiles! A little rain never hurt anyone!"

You scoff at him, walking at a pace thats just barely under a run. "And what are you going to do if the sky gets too cloudy that the sun can't be seen?"

Sun's chuckle sounds from behind you. "Then you are definatly not taking the bus, even if you catch it. Wouldn't allow it. Don't worry, you'll still have an escort home."

.....Of course. You glance at your phone, squinting at the time as a raindrop plops on the screen. "It's gonna rain. We're not gonna make it in time."

Sun hums. "I can see that."

Before you can process what he means, you're yanked back to a halt. He stopped allowing you to pull him, which means the momentum yanks you back the moment he stills, and you lift your head to question his stalling when Sun, smiling as ever, lifts a finger and points it to the street. You follow his gaze.

The bus-your bus, judging by the number printed on the side-is turning down the street, past the point where the bus stop would have been around the corner with windows full of people who were sitting dry and calmly out of the incoming downpour.

As if on cue, water droplets fall on your face, then more, until the space around you is in a steady, solid rainfall.

You visably deflate. "Great. We missed it."

Sun's hands are extended out, water running off his fingers and faceplate. "And it's not too cloudy too! What a delight!"

You deadpan. "Sunny..."

"Yes, yes...." A low chuckle, a metal hand coming around the back of your neck and pulling the hood of your jacket over your head, and around your shoulders so you're pressed against the animatronic's side. "Best we start walking very quickly, hmm? Don't want you catching cold."

"Too late." You whine, as annoynaly as you can make it. "Gonna get so sick I'm gonna be sneezing wads all week."

"Oh, sick? That means I can make you soup! I have a few new recipes I'd like to try."

"You don't need an excuse to make soup."

"No, but I do like to have an excuse to feed it to you."

You walk in pace with him, hands curled into your pockets and clothing pushed all the way up so no water slides down your clothes. Sun is the opposite. He doesn't even try to pull the hood up, not like it would have fit around his sunrays either, but walks rather chipper than what you'd expect a Daytime robot in the rain.

He's clearly enjoying the turn of events. Your lips press together in a thin line. Happy for him, it's nice to see him in a good mood. You're just a little bitter about being rained on it as well though. "If you wanted the same expereince, you could have just stood underneath the shower at home."

Sun laughs lightly. Finger tips dance on your arm, his grip pulling you closer. "I don't think this is quite the same as that! Unless, darling, you'd like to join me in there."

You whistle. "Walked into that one, didn't I?"

He nods, and steers you out of the way of a puddle. "Afraid so."

The walk is ten minutes, tops, to the apartment complex. But it's double that time because Sun likes to walk slow, and he makes it up for you later when you're peeling off all the soaked layers at the door and he's gathering something warm for you to replace it with.

[harrygoeswest]

Love Aged Like Fine Wine

Harry is drunk and lost not too far from home, and there's only one person he wants to call to rescue him.

A/N: Hello everyone 👋🏼 it has been a loooong time since I posted anything on Tumblr, and I was admittedly reluctant to do so. However, I reblogged the lovely Sarah's (@harry-on-broadway) fic challenge the other day and it inspired me, and I would be doing a disservice to write the whole thing and never look at it again, especially since I quite like it. SO, I give you my first one shot in over a year. Bear with me, I'm a bit rusty... Special mention as always to Miss Liz (@all-things-fic) for reading and validating me.

I'm using prompts 14 & 19.

Trigger Warnings: Absolutely nothing (apart from the odd f word)

Word Count: 6533

~~~

“What do you want, Harry?”

An offended scoff was his initial response. “Not a very nice way t’greet y’best friend.”

He was right, it wasn’t. “You’re not my best friend.”

“Ouch. Though’ we were besties ‘n now y’makin’ me feel sad.”

Harry was slurring more than he usually did. I feared if he tried to say obviously, ‘overshly’ would turn into a soft, deep single syllable alike to the word ‘shush’. It wasn’t particularly late to warrant his level of drunkenness. Especially on a Tuesday evening. Chewsday, if you will.

“Harsh truths are easier to take when you’re drunk.” I said, shrugging as if he could see the action.

“Why’re y’bein’ so ‘orrible?” He whined.

“Why are you calling me pissed as a fart at 8:45 on a Tuesday night and ruining my bath time?”

“‘S there some space lef’ in the bathtub?”

“Don’t make it weird.” I grimaced. “What’s going on?”

He produced an incoherent mumble. I heard the rain get heavier, both on the phone call and outside my house.

“What was that?”

“M’st…”

“Aye?” I asked, my face surely a bewildered picture.

“I’m lost.” He huffed, agitated.

I sat up in the bath, water and suds sloshing around me. “Lost?”

“Yes.”

“W-,” words failed me, and I barked out a sharp laugh. “How are you lost?”

“How does anyone else get lost?” He said, stroppy.

“Wow, you really are drunk.”

He hummed, but it was a defeated noise. “C’ya come ‘n get me?”

“How am I supposed to come and get you if you don’t know where you are?”

“Well I was only at The Holly Bush.”

I laughed twice as hard that time. Put in perspective, The Holly Bush is no more than a ten minute walk from Harry’s house. “How long have you been walking?”

“‘Bout ‘alf an hour.” He muttered.

Now I was really howling, like a hyena on laughing gas. “Jesus Christ, Harry!”

“‘S not funny!”

“On the contrary, years of comedy begs to differ.”

He practically cried my name down the phone. “‘M really tired ‘n cold ‘n… weh,” I think he meant wet, “please come get me.”

I took a deep breath and mourned my premature bath. “Fine. But do not move from wherever you are.”

“Won’t.”

I stood up and watched water and soap suds cascade down my body with a pout. “What can you see?”

“Er…” a pause followed, I assumed for his vacant thoughts. “‘S like a lot of trees.”

I rolled my eyes. “That could literally be any part of the Heath, mate. Say more words.”

“I can’t see shit! It’s dark and it’s pissing it down!”

“Don’t get arsey or you can stay there and drown in rain water.” I warned him. “Find a road sign. Or a street name.”

He grunted. After no more than fifteen seconds he produced, “Platt’s Lane.”

“Alright, I know where that is. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Thank you.” He said. At least I think that’s what he said.

I murmured a little, “Sure,” and then hung up. 

I dressed quickly in the easiest clothes I could find - a pair of tie-dye jogging bottoms, an old t-shirt and a crewneck over the top. I pulled on the first pair of trainers I could find and ran out to my car whilst fighting the rain. I also took a towel with me. My hair was still in the bun I’d put it up in for my bath.

It was really battering it down now - it was loud inside the car and the windows were steamed up. It was even louder when I turned the air conditioning on to defog the windows.

Once I could see outside the front and back windows I finally made my way to find Harry. I still mourned my bath as I drove - I missed how warm it was and how comfortable I had been. Now I was out in the cold and wet to rescue my drunken idiot friend.

It didn’t take me very long to find said drunken idiotic friend. He was sitting on a yellow grit box under some trees at the junction of Platt’s Lane and West Heath Road. He was soaking, shoulders slumped and looking at the floor. I pulled up as close to him as possible and leaned over to push the door open.

“Get in, you moron!” I called.

Harry looked up at the sound of my voice. He leapt to his feet almost immediately after, and staggered his way over to my little car. He nearly tripped over twice on his way, and he hit his head as he sat down.

“Fucking hell.” I muttered. “Look at the state of you.”

He grumbled, readjusting his sodden jacket, and then looked right at me. His hair was drenched, water dripping from his neck down his arms and chest, and his forehead down his nose and cheeks.

“Here,” I threw the towel at him. “You’re gonna make my car smell.”

“‘S tha’ the wors’ a’ya problems?” He asked, a snide tone laced in his mushy words.

“I wish it was.”

I pulled off again as Harry began to attempt to dry himself off, although I feared a towel would do very little to help him. Fortunately we were only a mere five minute drive from his house anyway. He probably could have walked home faster if he were sober. 

It was a relatively quiet drive since Harry spent most of it rubbing my towel over every available inch of his body. He did however sing along to the one song he heard playing, but he didn’t quite have the same masterful tone as usual. He even seemed quite timid.

I parked as close as possible to his front door and shut the engine off.

“Where are your keys, H?”

He gave me a dopey blink and then looked down at himself, double chin appearing accompanied with a pouty lower lip. “Dunno. On me somewhere.”

I sighed and unclipped my seatbelt, then reached over to him to feel through each of his pockets for his house keys. Of course I found them in the hardest one to reach on the inside of his jacket. He giggled while I did, like a child being tickled. I smacked him on the arm before I got out of the car.

I ran up to the front door and unlocked it, opening it so that my paralytic companion could be jettisoned inside his home as quickly as possible without getting more wet.

“Come on, then,” I said as I opened the passenger door, my shoulders hunched because the rain felt weird on my neck.

Harry practically fell out of the car at my instruction, so I lifted him up and placed his arm around my shoulder so I could manage his weight better. I kicked the car door shut behind us and walked him to the door. I realised on our little walk how unfit I was.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine.” I said, my voice tight. It was only strained because he was heavy and I was weak.

“Didn’t even think I drank tha’ much, was only few whiskeys.”

Only a few could range anything between 3 and 30. I didn’t chide him for that. “It’s alright, Harry. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” I meant that genuinely and not as a threat I’d be getting that level of drunk in the future just to call him to rescue me.

“Would.” He insisted.

I awkwardly held onto him as we got inside, twisting at an awkward angle to close the door and keep any more rain from getting in. Harry felt like dead weight against me.

“Ready to get upstairs?”

His affirming nod was the surest action I’d seen from him this far.

“Alright,” I took a deep breath, “let’s go.”

I made sure we navigated the stairs one at a time, because I had visions of him tripping up and cracking his head open if he tried to do anything by himself. And now, in the warmth of his massive home and up this close to him, the boy reeked of stale beer and sweat. I didn’t want to ask what he’d been doing in The Holly Bush for him to get that bad. I hadn’t seen him that wasted in a very long time.

“Meant it, y’know.” He slurred.

We were only halfway up the stairs and all I could hear was my own panting. Admittedly I was surprised he hadn’t passed out yet. 

“Meant what?” I heaved, and pushed him up the next step.

“I w’ do the same f’you.”

“I know you would.”

“Don’t even have t’ be drunk.”

“Right.”

We stopped for a minute, not at anyone’s request but Harry didn’t seem to want to move. I looked at him as he did me, and he produced this hazy-eyed, closed-lip smile. 

His woolly but content expression made me laugh. “I think it’s bed time for you, mate.”

He groaned. “Don’t call me ‘mate’.”

I frowned. “Alright. Sorry.”

When we finally reached the top of the stairs, Harry collapsed on me by way of a hug. We were standing in the middle of the hallway, his entire body somehow wrapped around mine. I was suffocating in the smell of a brewery.

“Don’t leave me.” He begged.

“I’m not… Need to get you to bed somehow.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, eyes heavy. “You can take me to bed.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He nodded repeatedly like a bobble-head figure. 

I made a face, perturbed, and nudged him in the direction of his bedroom. He nearly fell over as he turned around, and ended up palming the wall the rest of the way. I kept a hand on his back just in case.

As soon as he saw his bed he was climbing onto it, still fully clothed and in his muddy trainers.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, reaching after him like he was a toddler, “Harry, take your shoes off.”

He laughed maniacally into his bed sheets, the muffled sound disturbing.

I huffed with a scowl and did it myself. His vans were dripping wet so I took them to the radiator and left them on top to dry. I made sure the radiator was turned on, too. The last thing Harry Styles needed was the flu again.

He was sitting up now, watching me with a warm expression. I ignored it.

“Need to take your clothes off or you’ll get a cold.”

“Yes, Miss.” He was beaming now.

The attempt at taking his t-shirt off was painful, and I ended up having to help him.

“Jeans too.”

I knew that would be more agonising to watch than the t-shirt, and I didn’t want to have to look at his bare chest for too long, so I went for a walk to the closest bathroom to get another towel. His jeans were still around his knees when I got back.

“Jesus Christ.” I said through gritted teeth, and freed his jeans from around his ankles. They were a heavy kind of damp and thudded when I put them on the floor.

“‘S cold.” He commented, staring up at me.

“I’ve just put the radiator on.” I told him, and handed him the towel. “I’ll find you some clean pants.”

I left him to dry his no doubt tacky chest and legs while I searched through his drawers for some clean underwear. I threw them at him once I’d located them.

“Where’s your laundry basket?”

“Wardrobe.” He said, voice getting gruff.

I collected his dirty clothes from off the floor again and wandered into the walk-in wardrobe attached to his bedroom. I stared at it for a while, not just because it was ginormous but also because I couldn’t believe the amount of crap in it. It was bulging with clothes - some I hadn’t seen him wear for years and others I hadn’t seen him wear at all. Ever. 

I dropped the clothes in my hand onto the overflowing basket in one of the cupboards, hating to do so because it was just adding to more chores. And then I realised that this was not my house and I would not be responsible for washing any of his clothes.

“Harry, do you want something to wear in bed if you’re cold?”

He never answered.

I peered into the bedroom to see he’d already tucked himself into bed.

“I guess not.” I muttered.

I stood next to his bed and watched him for a minute. His eyes were closed and he was breathing regularly but I couldn’t work out if he was actually asleep or just pretending to be. His eyelids looked shiny and delicate and his cheeks were dusted pink - a combination of his inebriation and being outside in the cold for so long. I could hear the radiator chugging and it was definitely warmer than it had been when we arrived.

Without thinking, still staring at him while possibly passed out like a lunatic creep, I wrapped my index finger around one of his curls and moved it out of his face.

He giggled suddenly, catching my wrist. “That tickled.”

I smacked his hand away. “I thought you were asleep, you absolute git!”

“Not yet.”

I rolled my eyes and scowled at him. “I’m goin’ home. Seeing you in bed is making me want mine.”

“Can always share mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scoffed, and made a move to leave. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Aye, wait!” He shouted at me.

“What?”

“I don’t want you t’ leave yet.”

“Well, I’m exhausted, and you’re about to pass out on me anyway.”

He said something that was complete and utter incoherent nonsense.

“I don’t know what you just said but I’m not changing my mind.”

He whined my name again and reached for my hand. “Please stay bit longer? Like havin’ y’here, havin’ y’around.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I still want my own bed.”

“Please?”

“No.” I stood my ground, but I took a step closer and pinched his cheek. “But I’ll come back tomorrow after work if that makes you feel better.”

“Feel better if y’stayed wi’ me now.”

“Well that’s not going to happen. Just call me if you need anything.”

“Need y’now. Need y’all the time.”

“Stop being daft.”

“‘M not bein’ daft - I mean it.”

“You are being daft. Just go to sleep - I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”

He stressed my name and sat up. “Y’not listenin’ to me. ‘M bein’ proper serious - I want ya t’ stay wi’ me. I need y’here.”

“No, what you need is sleep.”

He scowled at me.

“I’m going to go and get you a pint of water and a paracetamol and then I’m going home. And that’s the last we’re gonna say on this, end of.”

I left the room and  found my way to the kitchen, though admittedly I did get lost on my way there since I’d only been here once before and it was a considerable amount of time ago. I did as promised and got him a pint of water and found some paracetamol in a drawer full of miscellaneous items close to the sink.

I couldn’t fathom why Harry was so needy, insobriety aside. We were friends, yes, and had been for some time, but we weren’t that close. Or perhaps we were and I just refused to admit it due to his increasing popularity and the fact that being perceived near him in the public eye terrified me. I was perfectly happy with my mundane job and my mundane life. I appreciated Harry for what he was - a friend -, and didn’t expect anything more or less from that level of our relationship. Nor had I ever, and it surprised me that he suddenly did.

Perhaps I was overthinking it all. That was likely.

I returned to Harry’s room to find him out of bed in just his pants.

“What are you doing?” I asked, putting the water and the tablets on his bedside table, trying to avoid looking at his chest.

“Need the loo.” He said without hesitation, and marched past me.

I sighed, watching after him until he was safely in the bathroom with the door closed, and then I perched on the edge of his bed with my head in my hands.

I was irritated, yes. I knew I shouldn’t be as irritated as I was, but I couldn’t help it. This was not the evening I had planned for myself. I was supposed to have an early night and go to work in the morning with a clear head and no bags under my eyes. Now I was going to look like the walking dead, and feel like it too.

I stood up again when Harry reappeared. I watched him stagger and sway across the corridor and it made me nervous. He tripped once and nearly smacked his face against the doorframe.

“Fucking hell, Harry.” I said, panicked, and reached forward to steady him.

He laughed, more a giggle of that from a small girl. “I’m so drunk.”

“I know you are. That’s why you need to get into bed.”

“I will, jus’ one more thing before I do,”

I thought he was going to start running riot around the house and I was going to have to chase after him, like a dog owner with a tyrannical pooch. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around my middle and shoved his face into the crook of my neck. His body was warm and it felt strange being this close to him when he had so little clothes on.

I let out a long breath, reciprocating it this time. “You’re a twat.”

He hummed when I stroked my hand over his damp hair. “Not very nice.”

“And yet still true.”

He grunted, but never moved a muscle. A moment of silence passed before he said anything else. “Thank you f’ comin’ to rescue me.”

“Sure, anytime.” I didn’t mean that. Or maybe I did, but I’d be bitter about it if it became a recurrence because I couldn’t stand to disappoint people who meant a lot to me.

He let me go, and I thought that was finally going to be the end of it. Instead, he took my face, quite harshly, between both of his hands until my cheeks squished. His gaze was dopey and warm again, but somehow different to last time. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Harry, that hurts.”

He ignored me. “I love you.” It sounded more like ‘ah luff you’ but that wasn’t relevant in the moment.

“Yeah, I love you too, now let go.” I was trying to pull his hands away but apparently he was still physically stronger than me even that drunk.

“No,” he shook his head at me and then brought what felt like my entire body against his chest. “I mean I really love you.”

I couldn’t see anything. I felt us begin to fall sideways, but with his strength I had absolutely no control over where we were going.

“Harry!” I screamed, still trying to fight him with no luck.

I think we hit the bed because the landing was softer than anticipated and Harry didn’t wince or flinch. That could also be attributed to the levels of alcohol in his body. He was probably majoritively quite numb.

“Y’like, my favourite person.” He said, voice much quieter now, and I could feel his nose in my hair. My face was pushed into his chest. “Want y’around all time. Rubbish a’ showin’ it but I miss y’when ‘m nor’ at home. ‘N I don’t mean everyone, I mean jus’ you.”

I was listening to him with baited breath. I’d never really been on the receiving end of ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ - I was usually the one talking and making a fool of myself. Once I told my sister’s boyfriend (at the time) what I really thought of him in front of our entire family after keeping my mouth shut for so long. They broke up the next day and she came to live with me for a month. I felt almost paralysed now listening to Harry.

“Mus’ think ‘m nuts ‘cause I’ve never said anythin’ before, bur’m scared. You’re a scary woman.”

I tried not to take offence to that, even though it was likely true. I had tried for the longest time to give off a very ambiguous aura. I didn’t want anyone to know me, least not the real me. I liked the illusion of being dead inside even if I was far from it.

“Loved y’ for so long now I can’ ‘ide it anymore.” He was really slurring now and words were about to fail him. Somehow, he was still holding onto me. “‘M like tha’ 1975 song.” I wanted to ask which one, but I didn’t have to. He proceeded to sing the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Just once he sang them, maybe slightly off pitch but it still sounded good. Not sure it would hold up to any of his previous performances, but I’d take it.

I didn’t know what to say. I was in a state of shock to be honest and the thought of moving terrified me. But then his grip around me loosened, and he let out a singular loud snore.

I pulled back, horrified, to see his sleeping face - mouth wide open. Another snore was released. “You are fucking joking.”

I sat up, his limp body falling away from me. I smacked his arm in the hopes of waking him, but he never flinched. “Harry,” I said, hitting him again.

Still no movement.

“Oi.” Smack.

Nothing.

I didn’t know what to do. Who does that? Who makes an admission like that and then falls asleep? And why did it have to be this boy? I was speechless, and when I finally managed to clamber off the bed I was also useless.

I stared at him with a look of bewilderment, as he lay there passed out on his unmade bed, mouth agape and naked besides his white y-fronts. It was then that the reality of what he’d said hit me, and I started to cry.

I wasn’t angry or upset - I was overwhelmed. Drunkenly, Harry had just told me he loved me. Then immediately passed out. Now I was left with my own feelings and his and no one to talk to about it. What was I supposed to do?

I desperately wanted to leave and get some sleep, but I also couldn’t help but think that would be morally inappropriate. Leaving a friend alone while dangerously intoxicated was how 50% of all murder documentaries started. Not that Harry was likely to get killed by an intruder in his mansion complete with security fortress. But he might accidentally fall down the stairs or choke on his own vomit.

And yet, the idea of staying in this massive and unfamiliar house to process all those thoughts made me even more hysterical. The idea alone provoked a loud sob, and I quickly covered my mouth because it was such a horrendous sound.

I made my decision that instant. I put Harry properly into bed with all of my remaining strength, covered him with his duvet, and then I fled from his house like a bat out of hell. On my way out, I took his spare keys with me.

I barely slept that night. My head was swimming and even though I couldn’t keep my eyes open, my brain was in overdrive. That, and the cat was sleeping on my chest and purring right in my face. His whiskers tickled my nose.

I found myself thinking about the early stages of mine and Harry’s association. 

I couldn’t have called him a friend when we first met because I hated him. I don’t think that feeling was ever reciprocated on his part but I couldn’t ever stand to be in the same room as him. Why? Because I felt the need to constantly contradict societal comments and beliefs. The world - at least people in my world - deemed him a golden boy who never did any wrong. I was convinced it wasn’t the case. My downfall was my lack of determination to prove it.

We met through mutual friends, as these things always seemed to happen. I couldn’t even remember which friend it was - neither me nor Harry talked to them anymore. But one day he was just there, and periodically from then onward he continued to show up. I couldn’t even remember when it was, but it was before he cut all his hair off. One Direction’s last few remaining days, perhaps? Anyway, he was suddenly omnipresent and came with an abundance of attention and it infuriated me.

I remember once, Harry confronted me on my obvious dislike for him. That was our first encounter collectively with ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’. I can’t remember exactly what I said but I wasn’t very nice and I remember the Bambi look in his eyes when I walked away from him. After that he was notably absent for some time. If I asked him about it now I’m not sure how honest he’d be about it. He was lucky enough to be able to claim work absences for long periods of time - I imagined he’d use that excuse. How truthful that would be, I didn’t know.

Our reconciliation came after that. He saw me alone in the nearby shop and asked me to join him for a coffee. I couldn’t really say no - it was a Sunday afternoon and I was only going back home to vegetate for the rest of the day. I think it was spring - I probably would’ve just read a book and gone to bed early. We spent the next 3 hours in Ginger & White, and after we got kicked out of there we went up to The Holly Bush, ironically.

I saw a different side to Harry that night, and I always put it down to having him to myself. There was no one else there with us apart from the locals in the pub who wouldn’t bat an eyelid. It was just us, and he was unapologetically himself, as was I.  We suddenly had an entirely new perception of one another - a higher level of understanding. On that random Sunday evening alone, I came to appreciate Harry for just being Harry. I saw who he really was, and I liked him.

From then on, I enjoyed his company. It became a regular thing - an afternoon doing something random together, just the two of us. And it ranged from simple coffee shop talks to entire day trips out of London. I realised then that what we’d basically been doing was dating for about 5 years with no physical contact.

I laughed out loud, disturbing the cat. He ran off and left me alone. 

We’d had our own intimate relationships with other people outside of our friendship, which I guess is why I’d never thought about it that way before. He also seemed to do that with multiple other people - I wasn’t the only one. Was I?

I never had to apologise for the night I was rude to him. I always wondered why, and I always berated myself for not saying I was sorry. I’d admitted I was wrong about him a long time ago, but only to myself. It seemed a bit too late to do it now, but I assumed he’d forgiven me. I could’ve been wrong.

I think I finally fell asleep around 4am. My alarm for work went off just 3 hours later and I burst into tears as soon as I realised the situation I was in. I called into work sick and went straight back to sleep.

How much more sleep I had was uncertain. It felt like only 2 hours, but it could’ve been more. Since I wasn’t working, I decided to get a McDonald’s after showering. Mostly for Harry rather than me, although I’m sure he’d make a comment about it.

I used the key I’d stolen last night to let myself in and went straight up to his bedroom with the McDonald’s in my right hand. Except I didn’t make it to his bedroom, because I found him on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, on his front with his cheek pressed to the tile floor.

“Harry…?”

He moaned, limply raising his hand and dropping it again immediately.

I moved into the room, leaving the McDonald’s in the hall because the smell would not go well with the pre-existing one in the room. It seemed Harry had vomited since I left. I sat on my knees beside him and stroked a finger through his curls, similar to how I had done last night.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really.” He said, voice whiny.

“No, I’m not surprised. I brought you some breakfast.”

He managed to lift his head and look towards me. I pointed at the hallway and he followed where my finger suggested.

“What is it?”

“McDonald’s.”

He screwed his face up. “You know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yes, that’s why I got you a Fillet-O-Fish. And mozzarella sticks.”

“Not very healthy.”

“Well, boiled eggs and avocado doesn’t make for very exciting hangover food if you ask me.”

He blew a breath out so that his lips wobbled. “True.”

“You gonna sit up and eat it?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Come on, then,”

I took his arm and helped pull him to a sitting position. He sat against the bathtub and rolled his head back, mouth open and breathing heavy. I left his food in his lap and sat opposite him with my back against the wall.

“This is probably one of the worst hangovers I’ve had in a long time.” He said, grimacing into the paper bag. At least he could form complete words this morning.

“How much do you remember?”

He laughed once. “Not much. I remember calling you, and waiting for you to come get me. I remember when you turned up, but that’s about it. I don’t remember getting home.”

I swallowed thickly. That meant he probably didn’t remember telling me he was in love with me. Or rather, singing it.

“Next thing I’ve woke up in my pants about to vomit.”

“I think you were the most drunk I’ve ever seen you.”

He paused before he took a bite out of his fillet burger. “Really?”

“Hands down. You fell over nearly three times. And you wouldn’t let me go home.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised by that. I’m a very clingy drunk.”

“I was aware of that before last night.” I muttered. “Who were you with?”

“Tom and Tyler.”

“Ah, one of those evenings, was it?

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be quite that bad, though. Was only going for one.”

“That’s how they all start.”

“Mm, I should know better.”

“Yes you should.”

He laughed around his mouthful and then swallowed it. “This was a good call, thank you.”

“No problem. Although I have to say I did not expect to watch you eat it on the bathroom floor.”

“I know. Feel like a uni student.”

“I don’t think uni students have bathrooms this big.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything while his mouth was full. “Think I’m gonna have a shower, if you don’t mind?”

I shrugged. “Your house.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes in jest. “Will you hang around a bit while I do?”

“Sure. I’ll put some coffee on.”

“Cool.” He grinned. 

He shoved the empty box into the paper bag and screwed it up. I took the rubbish off him once we were standing again and left him alone to shower.

I did as I said I would and made him a coffee, and then helped myself to a glass of water and an apple out of the fruit bowl on his counter. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. He seemed to be behaving normally, so I was certain he’d forgotten his admission, but that worried me because I was now going to have to admit that I knew. And I still wasn’t entirely sure how I felt.

When Harry did reappear he was fully clothed and looked a lot fresher than he had done before. His hair was damp but beginning to curl and his complexion had a bit more life to it.

“Feel better?”

“Loads better, thank you.”

“That’s good.” I said with a pressed smile. I pushed his coffee towards him.

“Cheers. Where’s yours?” He asked with a subtle frown as he took a sip out of his mug. He made an approving sound. “That’s good.”

“You know, I don’t actually like coffee.”

His frown deepened. “You have coffee all the time.”

“No, I have a mocha.”

“That’s still got coffee in it.”

“Yes, but the hot chocolate kind of makes it a fake coffee. A coffee for people who don’t like coffee.”

“Right.” He chuckled. “I had a thought upstairs just now… why aren’t you at work?”

“Because I barely slept.”

He looked concerned. “You better not have stayed really late because of me. Should’ve kicked me in the crotch and told me to get over myself.”

“Oh believe me, I tried to leave you here to go to bed, H. But I actually got back at an acceptable hour, that wasn’t the problem.”

“Just a bad night?”

I hummed. “No, I still blame you.”

“Why?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter side.

I looked at the kitchen top and pursed my lips. “You… you told me something that gave me a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t give you some rubbish music samples, did I?”

I snorted. “I wish. Might’ve helped me sleep.”

“What then? I can’t remember anything.”

After a charged silence, I let out a long sigh. “You told me you love me. You said you love me, and then gave this little speech about missing me. And not just as friends - you said like The 1975’s song, I’m in love with you. But you sang that part, and then immediately fell asleep.”

When I met Harry’s gaze again he was staring at me, and biting his cheek. Neither of us said anything for a while. I was hoping he’d say something. Or perhaps me repeating what he said last night meant he felt like he didn’t need to say anymore.

I cocked my head. “Did you mean it?”

He stood taller, inhaling as his gaze became glassy. “Yeah. Yeah of course I did. Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, obviously. But I meant it, although I didn’t mean to tell you in that way… you know, while utterly shit faced.”

“You were completely shit faced.”

“Yeah… no, that’s not how I planned on telling you.”

“Was there a different plan?”

“Maybe…” He turned his nose up and scratched the back of his head. “If I told you what it was you’d hate it-,”

“You don’t know that.” I retorted.

He raised a judgemental brow at me. “Er, yes I do.”

I laughed and put my head on the table. “Whatever.”

“Anyway,” he huffed, but it had a lightheartedness to it, “of course I fucking meant it. Been living with it for ages - it’s all had time to brew. Aged like a fine wine.”

I started laughing, and then I felt his arms wrap around my chest. I was pulled up by him to stand straighter, and he rested his chin on my shoulder. His back was against my front and it felt quite nice. I don’t think we’d ever stood like that before.

“Your love has aged like a fine wine?”

“Sounds right cheap when you say it like that.” 

“You said it. That is literally what you said.” I was still laughing.

“I know.” He whimpered.

I twisted my head to look at him, but he’d hidden his face. “You’re gonna have to bear with me.”

“In what way?”

“Well, this is a lot for me. I’m still… processing it, and I don’t know how I feel. You’re my friend and I love you, of course I do. Just…”

“Not in love with me yet.” He concluded.

“Yet.” I sniggered.

“I’ll remain optimistic, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

He giggled, and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Take your time. Preferably not forever though, ‘cause… the biological clock is ticking.”

I snorted again. “Reel it in.”

“Sorry.” He hummed and squeezed my shoulders tightly. “I am going to have a movie day on the sofa. Do you want to stay?”

“For that I do, fuck yeah.”

“Sweet… go and make yourself comfy. I’ll get the snacks.”

He bumped my hip with his when I passed him so I kicked him back. He gave a childish laugh, and I shook my head at him, but I found as I wandered into his overcompensating living room that I had this giddy feeling in my stomach I’d never felt with him before.

What was I, the most stubborn woman on Earth, going to do?

~

“What d’you want, H?”

“Not a very charming greeting.” He groused.

I pouted. “You’re interrupting my bath time.”

“Is there some space left in the bathtub?”

I smirked and sank lower into the water. “For you? Never.”

“Hey!”

“Always,” I laughed around my correction, “I meant always.”

“That’s more like it.” He chuckled. “I was calling because I think it might be my turn to get dinner. So what do you fancy?”

“Well, you, obviously.”

“Obviously.” His matter-of-fact tone matched mine. I could imagine him nodding his head. “How about a chippy?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. My usual please.”

“Curry sauce too?”

“Wouldn’t be my usual without it.”

“Just checking. So, I will be knocking on your door within the next hour. Make the most of that bath ‘cause I’m coming.”

“Cool. See you in a bit.”

“Bye-bye.”

“Love you!” I shouted before he could put the phone down.

He was quiet for a minute. “Blimey. Don’t need to shout it, darlin’.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Just in case you forgot.”

“I could never. But I love you more. See you shortly.”

“Okay, bye-bye. Love you most.”

“No!” He shouted, but I cut him off before he could refute it more.

I felt smug. I let out a satisfied sigh and laid my head back against the edge of the tub. 

I had taken my time in coming around to Harry’s admission, but he was incredibly patient with me and I was always grateful for that. It had been little over a year since his little bender, and I felt really good about everything. We felt really good about everything.

Our relationship seemed to only be moving up at a pace we were both happy with, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. All we had to do was keep it that way, and I had every confidence we could.

~~~

If you read this far, thank you <3

Come Talk To Me

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: I'm Going In

in which Joy goes on a life-changing field trip

cw: referenced violence, death mentions, implied lab whump, adult language

previous // masterlist // next

×~×~×

Tomorrow came too fast.

In preparation for the mission, Joy’s body refused to sleep, waking her up at least once an hour to remind her that hooray, you have an important task in the morning! Better be ready, wouldn’t sleep be great?

She rolled out of bed at the first chirp of the alarm clock, groggy and more than a little pissed at her own brain. Vic hadn't specified a required uniform, so she changed back into the clothes she’d arrived in; breathable hiking pants, a black tank top, and a pair of combat boots. The shit they'd been provided for training was nice and all, but if she was about to embark on an expedition she wanted to remember exactly where her pockets were.

No one had seen Sahota since yesterday’s challenge, but Vic said he'd meet her by the compound’s exit. She waited there, slouched against the wall, tapping her foot in an uneven rhythm. 

Fuck. The moment of truth was at hand. She knew she could technically hold up her end of the deal now, shoot an ‘oh damn, are you okay?’ Sahota's way and immediately get shot down with a gruff ‘fine. Don't ask me again.’

But that probably wasn't what Jericho had in mind. Joy couldn't be direct about it. Last time she'd tried, it had only pissed Sahota off, and that wasn't the effect she was going for. She'd have to be subtle, dance around the subject as best she could. Too bad she had two left feet.

If she hadn’t been cued in already, the first sign that something was wrong came when Sahota actually made noise on his approach. His footsteps were heavier than they usually were, his breathing more ragged. It took effort to suppress a wince when she caught sight of him. He'd looked bad before, but now she was surprised he was still standing, much less about to head off on a mission. His left eye was swollen shut, and cuts and bruises littered his face. 

How many times had Harbor hit him?

Her anger at the other man doubled in size, but she managed to choke it back, keep it out of her expression.

“Hey,” she said. “Time to go?”

Sahota gave a silent nod, moving to the door and typing in a sequence on the keypad beside it. Joy thought to try and catch a glimpse of the code two seconds too late, and all she could do was mildly regret it as the door slid open.

It struck her as a little weird that it locked from both sides, but that was probably for cases like theirs: schmucks off the street, employed by vague threats and promises and kept on a tighter leash by Vic’s control issues. 

She followed Sahota up a set of concrete stairs and into the daylight. The morning air was almost chilly enough to make her wish she'd brought a jacket, the overcast sky promising rain. Gazing up at the clouds, she realized this was her first time setting foot outside since her arrival. Thank fuck she’d been distractred enough that the thought was only occuring to her now, otherwise she would’ve been going stir-crazy in there.

Getting to the compound had been a bit of a blur—some generic car with tinted windows and a silent driver dropping her into Vic's loving arms—so she wasn't too surprised that its exterior wasn't familiar. Brutalist concrete building that wouldn't look out of place in a sci-fi movie. Bigger than it looked from the outside, but she knew now that most of the structure was underground.

Sahota moved away from the entrance, to an overhang at the side of the building. Joy didn't know why she was surprised to see a car parked under it. It made sense that they had a way to come and go, but their vehicle of choice caught her off guard. It was just a beat-up truck, not the sleek spy car she might've dreamt up. It was probably better for blending in, but she still found herself a little disappointed. All the fancy tech Vic had at his disposal for training, and he'd settled on a ford for his getaway vehicle.

Sahota moved to the driver's side, and she noticed for the first time he was limping. Just a little, barely enough to tell, but once she caught on, it was clear he was favoring his left leg. 

Joy couldn't stop herself. “Did Harbor do that too?” she blurted out, gesturing down. He stared at her blankly for a second, then gave a small shake of his head. 

“Old injury. Acts up in bad weather.”

“What's it from?”

He unlocked the car, sliding into the driver's seat. “Training.”

Bit ironic that a lasting injury came from training and not the job itself, but life was a bitch like that sometimes. She'd broken her wrist in a middle school softball game once. Not diving for home plate, or even staggering back to catch a ball. She'd just… tripped and landed wrong. It still got stiff on some winter mornings, much to her irritation.

Joy climbed into the passenger seat. “Is it gonna bother you on the mission?” It was a blanket question. Should you even be out here? Go to bed, is what she wanted to say, but she imagined Sahota would take offense to that.

“This isn't a mission,” he replied, starting the truck and tactfully avoiding her question. Fair enough.

“How far is it to the lab?” she asked.

“Hour. Maybe more if we catch traffic.”

Well, on the plus side that gave her plenty of time to slowly close in on the topic of Sahota’s okay-ness. On the negative, if she somehow pushed the wrong buttons, she’d be stuck with a silent and grumpy Sahota for the rest of the drive. And the mission. And the drive back. Joy swallowed, winding her fingers together and pointing herself towards the window. Tactful. Be tactful.

“Uh.” She cleared her throat. “Kinda lame that Vic shot down your idea.”

“Hm?”

“The challenge? I thought it was…” Fun? Hell no. It had been just as awkward as this. “...Interesting,” she finished. Sahota said nothing, his eyes—eye. Should he even be driving?—locked on the road.

“Also,” Joy continued when he said nothing, “it's kinda bullshit that Vic changed the plan after we won.”

At that, Sahota let out a sigh. “I shouldn't have let you try in the first place. That's on me.”

“Is it?” She turned in her seat, facing him. “Sounds like it's on Vic. Aren't you guys partners?”

His expression didn't change, but his hands seemed to tighten around the steering wheel. “Yes.”

“Then why is he the one calling all the shots? You should get a say.”

“It's complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“It's…” his mouth tightened. “Vic’s had a lot more time on the job. He knows better than I do. If he overrules me, it's for a reason.”

It could be true, partially true, but Vic seemed to think he had more power than just that. Her mind went to the video. Vic’s total disregard for his so-called partner.

“Maybe he knows better, but that doesn't mean he can treat you like shit.” She might've been overstepping, and maybe the incident really was just so routine that neither of them cared about it, but the slight shift in Sahota's face, the way his arms tensed, had her thinking she was right.

“Why do you work with him?” Joy asked. “You're really fucking skilled. Why not get a job with someone who appreciates that?”

“What about you?” Sahota replied without missing a beat. “You're smart. You build and fix things like it's second nature. Why'd you go for the criminal side when you could be something better?”

Joy scoffed. “It's not that easy.” She'd watched her oldest sister struggle with student loans, and high school had already been hard enough to stay focused through. She'd been scared of college, to tell the truth, and joining the army fresh after graduation just seemed like the smart path. No financial burden for her parents, no help from anyone else.

“Exactly,” Sahota said. “It's not that easy.”

She couldn't think of a retort on the spot, and instead turned her gaze back to the window, watching the clouds gradually darken. The city skyline was growing in the distance, but they didn't seem to be headed in that direction. She figured she could ask about that, fill the silence, but she knew it wasn’t the question she was supposed to be chasing.

Are you okay? It was on her tongue, refusing to be spoken. Whatever he answered, she knew it would be a lie, and voicing it seemed pointless when she knew he wasn’t.

Eventually, they turned down what her mother would've called a road less traveled; a ribbon cut through the trees that was more pothole than asphalt.

“Rotorworx has a lab back here?” Joy said, trying to peer through the dense foliage. 

“Used to. Closed down after an incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

“You’ve probably heard of it. Happened during the experiment Harbor was part of.”

Wait wait wait, this was that lab? Joy wracked her brain, trying to recall everything she'd read about the experiment. The published studies were vague at best. Something something innovative, life-changing technology. A sixth sense in development, a peek into another word. For a few months, it had been advertised on the daily; little teasing articles that told you nothing.

And then all of a sudden, news of the experiments stopped completely. Rumors circulating a few online forums suggested the project ended in a disaster, but she'd never found an official source; nothing to indicate exactly what went down. For all she knew, the research team had just been forced to scrap everything after losing funding. 

But something had to have gone right, right? Harbor had come out with… with… well, the promised sixth sense. Why hadn’t that ever been publicized?

“What do you know about the incident?” she asked Sahota.

“There's not much intel available,” he replied. “Something went wrong. Several researchers were killed, and the lab was closed by the government.” He pulled the truck into a patch of weeds that lined the road.

Killed? It had gone that wrong?

“We’ll need to walk from here,” Sahota said. “The area will be fenced off.” He hopped out of the truck, stumbling a little on the dismount. Joy couldn't tell if it was from his knee, or some new, Harbor-caused injury. She jumped out after him.

“You okay?” she said.

“Fine.”

Exactly how she’d thought it would play out. Ah well, it was a decent warmup. Sahota started into the treeline, his boots crunching against fallen leaves, and Joy followed him.

“You said people died.”

“They did.”

“How?”

“Cause of death was never made public.”

Joy raised an eyebrow. “None of this was ever made public. It just… I don't know, went away.” She probably shouldn’t be too shocked. Big companies loved their good publicity.

The promised fence made its appearance before too long. It was simple chain-link; no barbed wire, no cameras that Joy could pick out. Instead, spaced out along every ten meters or so, there was a plastic sign:

DANGER. CONTAMINATED AREA.

“Contaminated,” she read aloud. “Fun. Should we be worried?”

“Probably not.” 

Sahota scaled the fence with ease, and Joy followed. The area inside was less overgrown than the surrounding woods. Weeds came up past her ankles, but all things considered, that was pretty well-kept. Directly ahead, nestled between a few trees, a white concrete building stuck up out of the earth like a broken molar.

For a moment, she forgot she wasn't alone, taking off towards the lab without another word to Sahota. It wasn't very big. Was most of it underground? Had this been built solely for the sixth sense project, or had they conducted other research here?

“Cavan.”

Joy stopped short at Sahota's voice, casting a sheepish glance over her shoulder. “Sorry.” She waited for him to catch up, then held back a bit, deciding it was probably smarter to follow his lead. She knew her way around a shady area, but he seemed far more versed in subtlety than she was.

Sure enough, he honed in on what she assumed was a maintenance door, and knelt in front of it to get at the lock. In the six steps it took for Joy to reach him, she heard a click, and then he was easing it open, squinting into the darkness with his one good eye.

“No lights, no sounds. Safe to assume they cut all power once shit hit the fan.”

She peered over his shoulder. The maintenance room looked untouched, if a little dirty, and at one end, a flight of concrete stairs descended into darkness. Inviting, in a survival horror kind of way.

Sahota produced a flashlight, turned it on with a twist, and led the way down the stairs. The door at the bottom was also locked, but he made quick work of it.

That was a good sign, right? If there was anything inside worth seeing, it had to have been sorta protected by these security measures. The second door opened into a silent hallway. A thin layer of grime covered once-white tile, and she could see a few darkened doorways further in.

“If the main target's Elysium, this must be Asphodel,” she said, wrinkling her nose as the smell of mildew wafted out to greet it.

Sahota cast a glance over his shoulder as he stepped into the hall. “Didn't pin you for someone who knows Greek mythology.”

It sounded like something she should take offense to, but Joy just shrugged. “I'm allowed to have more than one hobby.” It wasn't like she made a habit of studying mythology, but the Percy Jackson books were some of the few she'd been able to sit through as a kid. Not only that, she'd actually enjoyed reading them.

“You like reading?” Joy asked as they pushed further inside, past a few empty rooms that looked like they'd once been offices. The corridor seemed to end at a set of double doors, deep in the dark.

“When I have time,” Sahota replied.

“Funny, I didn't pin you for a nerd,” Joy said. It was too dark to see his face, but she was willing to bet he wasn't smiling. “Are the books in the library yours?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“All of them?” Her mind went to the copy of 1984, all the tally marks. At first she'd assumed they'd been made by some previous owner, but maybe it had been Sahota all along. What would he be counting? Missions? Kills? Why put it there, of all places?

“Some are Vic's,” he answered.

She couldn't imagine what Vic would be counting either, unless it was all the parades he’d rained on. “Got a favorite book?”

He was silent for a moment, the only sound the faint fall of their shoes on the grungy tile. “The Hobbit,” he said at last.

“You are a nerd.”

“Maybe.”

She couldn't see shit past the flashlight’s beam, but this time she swore she heard the touch of a smile in his voice. 

Before she could ask if he had a favorite character, they'd arrived at the double doors. They looked sturdy—or rather, they looked like they used to be sturdy. The layers of wood and metal had warped somehow, buckled outwards. Like it had been rammed with a truck from the other side, or sustained some kind of intense pressure.

Sahota tested the door on the left, and it gave, just a little. He hit it with a more focused shove, and it gave a little more.

“Help me get this open.”

Joy stepped forward, bracing her palms against the door and leaning forward with all her weight. The door swung open with an awful scraping sound and a terrible smell to match, all stale smoke and the sour odor of rusted metal. She took a step back, letting Sahota and his flashlight get in there first.

The walls were charred, likely by scientific failures. The floor was also charred, with a few random squares lightened by what she could only assume was the removal of equipment. It looked emptied out, but not completely. A few metal cabinets were jammed together against one wall, a few more toppled like dominoes near the center. 

If Joy didn't know any better, she'd say there’d been some kind of explosion in here. And really, she didn't know better.

“Site of the incident?” she said.

“Looks like it,” Sahota agreed. “Check the cabinets. We're looking for notes, blueprints, any surviving papers.”

Joy nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and moved to the first cabinet. Sahota set the flashlight in the middle of the room, creating a dim, but usable, glow. 

Cabinet number one wasn't in great shape. It seemed buckled in on itself, much like the doors, and getting the top drawer open took a lot of effort on Joy's part. With the scant lighting, she couldn't see what it held, and was resigned to feeling around inside. Nothing.

“How long have you been working with Vic, anyway?” she called over her shoulder as she moved to the second drawer.

“Almost twelve years now.”

Damn. “You guys must be close.” Vic was an asshole, there was no doubt about that, but had she been overthinking his and Sahota’s interactions? If they'd been together that long, they had to have some kind of weird coping mechanisms for when the other was hurt.

“Mm.”

A week ago, she would've asked exactly how close he and Vic were. She was still pretty sure they were romantically involved on some level, but their weird power dynamic made her… uncomfortable. But maybe it was just some kind of kink that had leaked out of their bedroom? If that was the case, it really wasn’t her business to be calling Vic a piece of shit to his partner’s face.

Joy wriggled open the next drawer. “Sorry about what I said before,” she said, feeling around the inside of the space. “About Vic treating you bad. I shouldn’t have made that assumption.” To her surprise, her fingers brushed paper. A few sheets by the feel of it. 

Behind her, Sahota let out a quiet sigh. “It’s fine. Vic’s… he’s hard to get used to.”

That was an understatement. She’d liked Vic in the beginning, but it hadn’t taken long to see the ruthless apathy hiding behind his friendly mask. Maybe under that there was yet another layer, a sweet side that only Sahota got to glimpse. For his sake, she sure fucking hoped so.

Aside from a lonely sheet of paper in a bottom drawer, the remaining cabinets held a grand total of nothing. Joy shuffled her findings into the crook of her arm.

“Can we move this back to the hall?” she asked once she’d given the drawers a final once-over. “The smell is gonna give me a headache.”

Sahota didn't say anything, but when he knelt to pick up the flashlight, she took it as a yes. Joy left the room in a hurry, taking a deep breath as soon as she'd gotten a good few meters away from the door. Sahota handed her the flashlight, a folded piece of paper clutched in his other hand.

“Check what we have. See if it's necessary to explore further.”

Joy nodded, scanning page one. It took a few attempts of reading the first line before the words actually stuck; her mind was still bouncing between all the other topics of the day. The mystery of the lab, the mystery of Vic and Sahota, the fact that she still hadn’t finished her quest for Jericho… Fuck.

She forced her eyes into focus.

Your X4900 printer’s settings can be accessed by toggling the home menu.

Joy sighed. “This one's no good.” 

“And the next?”

She shuffled the page to the back. “This one… looks like a list of names?”

“Names?” He leaned over her shoulder. It looked like some kind of spreadsheet; names and dates and a shitload of scientific jargon.

Marian Sullivan. 08-12-097. 09-29-133. 10-16-133. Failed acclimation, occular failure, released.

Ahmed Faisal. 11-02-102. 03-10-134. 04-22-134. Failed acclimation, observed deterioration. Released.

It was a list of… what, test subjects? For the sixth sense, or something else? Joy scanned the names, doing a double take when she reached the bottom.

Hunter Harbor. 04-11-113. 02-28-136.

The next two spaces were blank, as if still waiting to be filled in. Joy glanced at the doorway they’d left, the burnt-out, destroyed room. It looked like Harbor was the project’s only success by a hundred miles. And somehow, that hadn't been a great thing. 

She swapped pages. The next seemed to be another piece of some manual, but after that… a collection of notes.

Construction largely consists of a bio-friendly silicon isotope; flexible and non-degrading. Interior electronics package is shown to be well-shielded against external factors. Centermost hollow houses Isotope G—

Joy paused, glancing back at Sahota. “Isotope G. You know what that is?”

“No.”

Definitely seemed like something worth finding out.

—designed to power implant, provided activation can be achieved. Extent of properties unknown, has been shown to emit a unique energy signature.

Joy sighed, shuffling the page to the back. “So Rotorworx is sticking shit in people's heads without fully understanding it. Is that a common thing with them?”

“Rotorworx has a history of not thinking things through. They prefer to look at results over consequences.”

Joy looked down at the next sheet. “Oh, here's more on the G stuff.” It was another set of handwritten notes, neatly penned onto a torn piece of notebook paper. This time, she read aloud.

“Properties largely unexplored, further research to be conducted ASAP. Full energization has been achieved on a microscopic level through ionizing Na-22 sample in proximity. Energization resulted in temporary visual phenomena that witnesses described as ‘otherworldly’. Energization of larger sample to be enacted ASAP.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You don't think… maybe they used this shit for the Reality Cage too?”

“We shouldn't assume,” Sahota said, taking the page from her and squinting at it.

“They said it was otherworldly,” she argued. “Even if it doesn't open portals or whatever, is that gonna stop Rotorworx from trying to use it that way?”

The corners of his mouth tightened. “Probably not.”

Joy glanced at the papers in her hands, once again face to face with the printer manual. “What was the one you grabbed? Have you looked at it yet?”

“Not yet.” He passed it to her, and she hit it with the beam of the flashlight. More handwritten notes, which so far, had been the jackpot.

1237 - Rate raised to .070 mSv/H, no change.

1300 - Rate raised to .071 mSv/H, no change.

1320 - Session terminated. Results inconclusive. Subject stable.

She re-read it aloud for Sahota’s benefit. “Milli-Sieverts,” she finished with disbelief. “They were straight-up zapping the test subjects with radiation.”

It seemed like the researchers were trying to energize the ‘larger sample’ while it was inside someone's head. Even though she knew this project had been shut down, Joy still cringed at the thought. She didn't have every piece of the puzzle, but the bits they'd found didn't paint a pretty picture. How had this been allowed? Why hadn't anyone stopped it before everything blew up in their faces? Literally?

She handed the page back to Sahota. “Think we have all we need?” she asked.

“Isotope G is a good starting point,” he replied, tucking the paper away. “It's more intel than we came in with.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Joy replied, rolling her shoulders back in a stretch. She'd really prefer not to spend any more time in this pit. She passed Sahota the flashlight and got to her feet, following the beam back the way they'd come. Once they reached the top of the stairs, she threw open the maintenance door with a dramatic shove. Ah, sunlight.

She held the door steady for Sahota. “You know what? That was fun,” she said. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

“Really. Not every day you get to break into an abandoned lab and find weird shit. Fun.”

He let out a noise that might've been a laugh. Maybe. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Joy grinned at him, leaning back against the white cinderblock and casting one final glance at the papers she'd found, now slightly crumpled from their place in her fist. She could probably trash them as soon as they made it past the fence. Sahota had the important shit, and she doubted she'd ever own an X4900 printer.

But in the daylight, something caught her eye.

Joy frowned, smoothing out the stack before grabbing the first manual page. Turning it over, seeing nothing but manufactured words. Nothing new, what had she just..? Ah. The second page, something had been scrawled with a soft pencil in the margins on the back, hardly noticeable.

“Hey,” she said. “I think there's more here.”

These notes were hastily written, like whoever'd made them was smack dab in the middle of something and just needed to get it down. It took her a second to make out the words.

0918 - Rate raised to 10 mSv/H. Material appears to react. A spike of energy equivalent to 11 Joules is read on the monitor.

0923 - Rate raised to 25 mSv/H. Material shows a spike of activity, equivalent to 78 Joules. Increasing.

“Sahota..?” Increasing. They'd managed to energize the G shit then, at least a little. This… this must've been Harbor's test. She continued reading, this time out loud.

“0929 - Source energy appears to malfunction. Readings asymmetrical. Geiger tube alarm threshold reached. Advise shut down and reschedule test. 

0932 - Rate raised to 100 mSv/H. Material energization increases exponentially, reading 939 Joules.”

Sahota frowned. “And then?”

“That's all,” she said, feeling her eyebrows knit tighter together. “It just ends.”

A hundred milli-sieverts. She'd never gotten too deep into nuclear physics, but that was a lot, right? At the very least it wasn't a healthy amount of radiation for a human to be exposed to. And she knew Joules. Harbor'd basically had a microwave going off in his head. Joy clenched her jaw. Even if she was still pissed at the guy, she couldn’t imagine how that would’ve felt.

“This is what caused the incident, isn't it? They tried to activate the… whatever Isotope G is, and it backfired.”

Sahota had taken the paper from her and was staring it down. “We can't know for sure, but…”

“But you'd agree it's pretty likely?”

He nodded, a grim set to his mouth.

“Fuck,” she whispered. It didn't surprise her that everything had gone so wrong. Popping energetic material into the human brain—even in the name of research—was a disaster waiting to happen. But if things had gone so wrong with something small enough to be implanted in someone's head, what could happen with larger quantities?

“Fuck,” she said again, louder, shaking her head when Sahota looked her way.

“We need to get to the Reality Cage as soon as we can,” she said.

“That is the mission,” Sahota replied.

“No, it's…” Joy shook her head again. “I think it's worse than we thought. I think…” She clenched her fists, tapping her knuckles against her thighs. “If Rotorworx is using Isotope G, if they're trying to fuck with it the same way they did here…” She looked him in the eye, setting her jaw.

“It's gonna be like setting off an atom bomb in the middle of the city.”

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden ,

@snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes ,

@clickerflight , @sodacreampuff , @starfields08000

[c0ld0utside]

Life’s kicking me in the ass rn, working on requests I promise. Have an imagine? Drabble? Idk what this is.

Warnings: None, I think. Lemme know if there should be any.

Cliche I know, but imagine a yandere sleep paralysis demon who just wants to help you sleep. They get it, you’re brain is stuck between dreamland and falling asleep, you’re uncomfortable, they’re (unintentionally) scaring you, you have school/work tomorrow, everything sucks. So, they’ll try everything they can to make it better. 

They’ll sit down on the ground next to your bed. They figure making themself smaller will make them seem like less of a threat. No. It doesn’t. Two small white dots are staring up at you from the darkness. It gets worse when they try smiling. Their smile immediately drops when they hear your muffled screaming. 

“Ah- shhhhhh, shhhh, it’s alright, it’s alright,” They say desperately, standing up and looming over you. Oh God, they’re making it worse. Their voice is the opposite of comforting. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, I can’t hurt you- I would never want that!” The “Demon” adds, hands hovering above you. One hand reaches over and starts patting your head. “See? I’m nice. Can you try taking deep breaths? In and out. Yeah, there you go. Atta-…uh…good kid. Good kid.”

Yandere Sleep Paralysis Demon who you’re happy to see as time goes by. Well, they hope you are. They really do try to help you sleep. Turns out they can emit sounds like white noise or rain, is a master at tucking you in, and if you want, will just talk to you. They don’t care that you can’t respond. They know that you’ll listen. What other choice do you have?

If something is going on that’s disrupting your rest (Or them trying to get you out of your sleep paralysis so you can get some sleep) they’ll take care of it. Hear someone speeding down the highway? The next thing you know they’re covering your ears so you don’t hear the sound of the car somehow swerving and slamming into a street light. Neighbors are being loud? Give them a moment, they’ll be right back. Someone in a group chat won’t shut up and you forgot to turn off notifications? Don’t ask questions when their body warps and the notifications suddenly stop. And when that person doesn’t send messages ever again. 

Sure, they said that they can’t hurt you, but that doesn’t apply to others.

It’s not that they “can’t.”

It’s that they won’t.

-

I should be sleeping right now. Excuse me while I ignore my own advice.

Get plenty of rest! Drink water! Eat something! I am proud of you! Goodnight!

[coimbrabertone]

NASCAR is Kinda Maybe Vaguely Doing Something and People Are Mad About It

In a race weekend of rain, delays, and Stewart Haas cars hitting the barriers every five minutes, the biggest story coming out of the NASCAR Chicago Street Race seems to be this crossover EV prototype...and people are mad at it.

Well, people are also mad that Bubba Wallace steered race winner Alex Bowman into the wall after the race, but one: a NASCAR driver getting mad and bumping into someone else after the race is a non-story, two: the same people that are mad at Bubba are probably the same people that are mad about the EV prototype.

So, at the Chicago Street Race, NASCAR finally unveiled the EV prototype that everyone already knew about - they were going to unveil it at the LA Coliseum preseason race but then they didn't because that race also saw rain and they ended up truncating the weekend - so how did they do this?

Did they announce it was going to replace one of the three national touring series? Maybe trucks since, you know, trucks and crossovers are both big.

Or maybe the Xfinity cars, since those are still a generation behind and Ford and Chevy just run the same models there as in Cup, so maybe a crossover for that series would make sense.

Or maybe start out with a new, more standalone series on street courses or something, sorta like a stock car version of Formula E.

Well, no, they did none of that.

Quite literally all they did was having the car speed off from a standing start and talk about some of the specs.

It's a 1300 hp car designed in collaboration with Ford, Chevy, and Toyota, David Ragan has been the test driver, and it was to promote a new collaboration agreement between NASCAR and ABB - who is also the title sponsor of ABB. That's all it was.

And yet, NASCAR fans are acting like these things are gonna replace Cup for next year. It's a dramatic overreaction.

I'm not even particularly a fan of EVs. I enjoy the noise and power coming from a car and I think that EVs - particularly Teslas and wannabe Teslas like the Ford Mustang Mach E - are deliberately garish, bulbously proportioned, and expensive props that the driver uses to convey how much more environmentally conscious and morally superior they are to the average driver.

So yeah, to a degree I understand why the "core" NASCAR fan or whatever may not agree with that message.

But...they're not even doing anything with it. It's a promotional piece for NASCAR to take to corporate events and all that.

The closest NASCAR is to an EV series is that there was also talk about them partnering with Dana White to invest in Nitrocross, an EV rallycross series that Conor Daly raced in once.

Even if NASCAR did launch an EV national series, you could just, you know, not watch it. I don't pay attention to Formula E or MotoE despite having long been an F1 fan and currently being a MotoGP fan.

It's just weird to see this very weak, very minor gesture from NASCAR and there being this vicious backlash towards it. I'm the kind of person that gets vaguely disappointed every time I find out a new performance car has some sort of hybrid element to it, so do you have any idea how off-base you need to be for me to disagree with your anger on this?

It's just such a nothing storyline, calm down.

Elsewhere in the Chicago Street Race weekend, the Xfinity race was pretty great actually, another SVG win and some cool battles between him, Gibbs, and Larson throughout, so that was nice. The Cup race was pretty good when it was running but that long rain delay did kinda suck a lot of the energy out of it. Plus, SVG getting speared by an out-of-control Briscoe was pretty lame.

Especially since Chase Briscoe and Josh Berry in their SHR cars would basically spend the whole second half of the race hitting the barriers and/or going off every five or so laps.

Oh, and postrace, Bubba Wallace banged doors with Alex Bowman while Chase Elliott banged doors with Daniel Suarez because, once again, this is NASCAR and that's just the kind of stuff that happens in NASCAR. People are only mad when Bubba does it though. Odd. I wonder if there's a certain thing about Bubba that leads to him being on the receiving take of all this bad faith criticism...

Other than that, Indycar had its hybrid era start at Mid-Ohio in a race that started off boring but ended in Pato O'Ward holding off Alex Palou to take the win for Arrow McLaren.

Something much appreciated since, earlier in the day, McLaren was running 1-2 in the British Grand Prix until they kept Oscar out on slicks on a wet track to lose second, and then switched Norris onto the wrong tyres once things dried up.

And then there was MotoGP. Pecco Bagnaia was chasing down Jorge Martin in the closing stages, Martin first in the championship, Pecco second after dominating the last two race weekends to chip away at Martin's lead. Martin is feeling the pressure, feels he needs to win to stop the bleeding, but just pushes too hard into turn one, the bike slides out from under him, and Pecco goes through to win.

Marc Marquez, the man who beat Jorge Martin to be Bagnaia's 2025 Ducati teammate, came through in second, his brother Alex Marquez in third, and Enea Bastianini - Bagnaia's current teammate - came through in fourth. After the Spanish GP sprint, Jorge Martin was forty-two points ahead of Bagnaia, as recently as after the Catalan GP, that gap was thirty-nine points, now? Bagnaia leads by ten.

Pecco won the Catalan GP main race, swept both races at Mugello, both races at Assen, finished third behind Martin and Miguel Oliveira at the German GP sprint, but then won the German GP main race as Martin crashed out to take the championship lead. Truly a tremendous four race run from Bagnaia.

Keep in mind, nobody won back-to-back main races at all in 2023! Pecco just won four in a row.

This is why I love MotoGP so much, it still has that drama, that magic, that I find so many series lack these days.

Unfortunately, it's schedule is also crap, so MotoGP is off until August 4th. Fuck.

NASCAR at Pocono and Indycar's double race weekend at Iowa will hopefully provide some entertainment next weekend. Now I just need to hope I don't die of MotoGP withdrawal in the meantime...wish me luck.

[swanqueenfeathers]

“Don’t worry, guys” says a young Tim Drake to the congregation of stuffed toys that line the foot of his bed, like soldiers standing at attention. “I’ll be back before ya know it! Keep an eye out for Mrs. Mac, ‘kay?”

He silently slips out the bedroom window and onto the roof, his footsteps soundless as he stalks towards the edge. He eases himself over the gutter and drops down a few feet to land on the balcony outside his parent’s room. They’re not home, of course - they rarely are, and so there’s no fear of being caught as he squeezes through the railing, grabs the drain pipe and slides down like it’s a fireman’s pole until his feet hit grass.

He adjusts the strap of his camera bag slung over his shoulder and slinks towards the front gate, keeping to the shadows as he climbs up and over, dropping down into a cluster of bushes on the other side with hardly a rustle of leaves. He’s done this a hundred times, following a path only visible to himself to the bicycle he kept hidden beneath an alcove of rocks, kicking up the stand and riding into the city.

He loves Gotham at night - rain puddles in the street that reflected the blinking neon lights, the warm, yellow glow that spilled from the windows of 24-hour diners, and the absence of all the noise a bustling city makes during the day. He even loved the ugly side of Gotham - darkened alleys where shady individuals swapped goods, dimly lit corners where beautiful girls crooned at passers-by, luring them into dens pumping with music and alcohol.

And because the ugly side is where Batman and Robin haunted the night.

Tonight was special, too - It was Tim’s 9th birthday. His parents hadn’t called to wish him a happy birthday or sent a gift; Tim figured they were busy or maybe they’d just forgotten again, but that was alright. Mrs. Mac had made him his favorite dinner and a chocolate cake decorated with nine candles.

“Make a wish,” she had said, smiling at him kindly but with a sort of sadness in her eyes that didn’t go unnoticed. Tim had squeezed his eyes shut and wished for just one gift, just one perfect picture.

He turns into an alleyway and hops off the bike, pushing it behind a dumpster before climbing the fire escape of the adjacent building, hoisting himself up and onto the flat roof. He crouches down and creeps towards the far corner of the roof, away from the light of the street lamps and facing another back alley, carefully pulling the camera from his pack and slinging the strap over his head. He had patched into the GCPD dispatch radio using a homemade scanner, and through a set of wired headphones he listened for any mention of Batman and Robin, having followed the trail of reported low-lives unfortunate enough to run into the Dynamic Duo during acts of questionable morality, tied up nice and pretty and ready for the ride to jail in the back of a squad car. 

The trail leads him to the roof he’s on now, and he carefully peers over the ledge, looking down into the alley where two men argue in heated whispers, their shoulders tensed and their eyes constantly darting to the shadows around them with a tangible uneasiness. One of the men shoves something into the other’s hand. Tim snaps a photo of the exchange, and he also watches the shadows but with a nervous excitement that has his hands shaking ever so slightly. 

Tim hears and sees nothing, but feels the sudden overwhelming presence. He’s here, he thinks giddily, camera ready. An imperceptible shift in the inky black of night at the other end of the alleyway that even the two men sense as they fall silent and stiff with fear. 

There’s a flash of color and both men fall to their knees with cries of pain. Robin had swung in from behind and with a graceful twirl, kicked in the back of their legs as they stood frozen staring at the darkness beyond.

Tim takes as many pictures as he can while remaining unnoticed. He captures the moment Robin effortlessly vaults over the two men, landing light as a feather and throwing a smug smirk over his shoulder. 

“Seriously, guys?” He tuts, crossing his arms and shaking his head like a parent scolding children. “That was too easy, it’s not even fun!”

“It’s not supposed to be ‘fun’, Robin,” Batman growls, melting from the shadows and looming over the pair with a dangerous aura. He extends a gloved hand with silent and threatening expectation, and one of the men quickly hands him the object exchanged earlier with trembling fingers. Batman examines it, and Tim zooms in to catch a glimpse - it’s a crumbled slip of paper with writing that Tim can’t quite make out.

Batman wordlessly tucks the paper into a pouch on his belt, then with lightning speed he strikes both men behind the ear, knocking them out cold. Robin makes quick work of binding their wrists and ankles before dragging them closer to the street to be picked up by the GCPD.

With a simultaneous click of their grapple guns, the Dynamic Duo ascend to the roof of the building across from where Tim lay hidden. He hardly dared to breathe lest they hear or see him. His heart pounded in his chest and his only movement was to press his finger to the camera's trigger. 

Batman sprints towards the building’s ledge and leaps onto the neighboring roof, his black cape billowed out, contributing an impressive and threatening silhouette. Robin was hot on his heels, performing a fluid backwards handspring, launching himself into the air and twirling mid-leap to land lithely on his feet. 

At that moment, Tim is six years old again - he’s at the circus with his parents, watching a beautiful family fly together. That same move performed for a crowd whose cheers turned to screams and gasps of horror as tragedy struck. 

Tim feels numb but his mind is moving at a million miles a second. Puzzle pieces click into place and as Batman and Robin disappear into the night, he clutches the camera to his chest. 

“Bruce Wayne is Batman,” he whispers in awe, “Dick Grayson is Robin.” He looks down at the last picture taken, a perfect capture of the duo suspended in the air. Elation is making his hands shake and he’s smiling so wide it hurts his cheeks. He shuts the camera off and tucks it back into the bag. He can’t wait to develop the photos and add them to the rest of his stash, which he kept hidden away in a lockbox under his bed. He was careful to only take them out when he was sure he was alone, showing them to his camaraderie of stuffed toys as he discussed with them his theories on the identities of the Dynamic Duo. And boy, did he have the story to tell them tonight!

“Don’t worry, Batman,” he says into the nighttime air, “Your secret is safe with me.” 

[sgt-scottymoreau]

BSF Protection

Summary: After 4 years in the military, Scotty starts a new chapter of her life with new challenges and new workmates. First mission in the brand new life; protecting a politician. Rather the mudane and easy task, unless things don't go according to plan.

Warning: None

Words: 7.8k // A03 // Masterlist

A/N: This fic is actually two idea stitched together, one was an idea I got while I was sick and sort of had to rework the concept around lol But I still had so much writing that one. Also, De Keyser was only a name quickly mentionned in a previous fic. He was supposed to be a nobody really, welp he is now a fully fledge character now (even sketched him ooops!)

In case, Kabouter is Dutch for gnome.

June 13th, 2018, 00:38, Luxembourg 

A few drops of rain hit the windshield, clouds slowly covered the starry sky. The radio was barely audible, as to wonder why it was even on. It provided some white noise in the silent car. She watched the lights pass by, the highway was calm. Not much traffic, they could cruise to the speed limit without worry. Scotty’s eyes glanced at the rear mirror. The man was on his laptop, typing, phone on the other hand. She was surprised that he wasn’t in some important conversation right now. Then again it was so late at night, most of his associates were probably asleep. And it was also forbidden. That was until his phone rang. He was about to answer, when Scotty turned around and put her hand on the device. 

“This is important, I need to pick it up.” He groaned. 

“Sir, unless this is your wife you are not allowed any communication at the moment.” She reminded him. 

“This is ridiculous…” He refused the call and closed his laptop. If he couldn’t do what he wanted, sleeping was at least one thing they had no control over. Scotty rolled her eyes as she faced the front again. A few minutes later, they could hear the soft snoring of the passenger in the back. De Keyser scoffed as he watched the man in the rear mirror, then his eyes glanced as his teammate..

“Remind me what VIP protection you did before?” He asked.

“Twice. But in a much more hostile environment than right now.” Scotty looked by the window, her mind slightly bored to be honest. The nice streets were much different than the sandy ones in other countries, the wideness of the highway clashing with the narrow street she remembered. It didn’t feel like the same rush of adrenaline, no danger at every corner. She turned her head to check on the man. Always sleep. “Is it me or is he a little bit of a jerk?”

“What because he doesn’t listen to what we tell him? Politicians. Not the first, not the last. Just have to deal with it, newbie.” He smiled, his eyes focused back on the road.

She frowned with an unamused smile. “I told you it’s not newbie. Scotty will do fine.”

“What about kabouter Moreau?”

Scotty let out a groan complaining that this was much worse. “I might be smaller than you, it’s not a reason to insult me.”

They laughed quietly after their little conversation almost woke up their VIP. The quiet radio took its place back in the vehicle. They drove for another ten minutes, always cruising on the highway when a car passed them on the left and changed lanes in front of them. It would have been understandable if De Keyser had been slow and they wanted to pass him, but the fact that the new car was now slowing down itself was not making sense. The man made a quick maneuver to pass the car. As he did, Scotty couldn’t help but watch who was driving. She straightened in her seat when all the windows turned out to be shaded. This was odd. Yet they were able to pass it without a problem. Till it repeated its first act. This time however, De Keyser and Scotty noticed another similar car approaching in the back. The front one slowed down again forcing the man to apply brakes. Their minds went on full alert. The car behind them accelerated, its hood ready to hit their trunk. De Keyser made an abrupt turn on the right lane, the engine revved when his foot hit the gas pedal to the floor. The VIP woke up with a loud gasp grabbing on the handle above. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on. He was quickly cut by the sound of bullets ricocheting on the windows. De Keyser pushed the car to the maximum and put as much distance as he could between them. But it was obvious whoever was after them, they wouldn’t let the BSF agents escape so easily. They attempted again to slow them down, tried to hit the back of the car to make them lose control. But the lieutenant had great driving skills and avoided their tricks. After a few meters of chases, the two hostile cars slowed down and put some distance. Scotty looked at her teammate worried; this was not a good sign. 

In the rear mirror they both saw it. A dark figure leaning on the side, holding what seemed like a heavy weapon aimed right at them. Before De Keyser could even react, their car was sent flying, rolled over and finished its course against the cement wall. It all went so fast and blurry. It took her a good minute before Scotty recovered any sense and spatial awareness. She was upside down held in place by the seat belt. She heard voices in the distance followed by one or two loud thud noises. Her hands blindly searched for the lock. She had to get free and assess the situation asap. As the world around became clearer despite the blood rushing to her head, she saw in the still intact mirror the rear door being opened. Someone crawling out. It was the VIP! Panic surged in every part of her and she fanatically battled the stuck belt. “Sir remain inside!” Scotty yelled. 

But the man ignored her. All he wanted was to be out of the metal prison. His head was painful, he might have a broken rib but this should be the last of his worry. De Keyser finally made his door budge and was free to get out of the car. As he did, he was greeted by a wave of gunshots that forced him to take cover by the wreckage. Scotty kept pressing the release button to no avail. Her hands searched then for her knife along her tac vest. When she found it, she was quick to cut the fabric. She fell on the roof and crawled by the broken window. Always on the ground, Scotty only turned her head to see the VIP standing. A second later, he fell back on the concrete of the highway. The sergeant scrambled to get to her gun and shoot back at whomever was standing in front now. Direct hit in the shoulder, a second in the chest as the shadow was running away. She pushed herself in a kneeling position, this time aimed with a steadier stance and hit the head. Tires screeched on the road leaving the two agents behind with a total of three dead bodies. Scotty stood up and ran to the VIP’s body. A quick pulse check, at this point mostly a reflex than hope, nothing. A perfect clean headshot. 

June 10th, 2018, 10:42, Belgium

There was nothing to be worried about. It wasn’t her first day anymore. No more introduction to everyone, feeling a little awkward from being the new fresh recruit around. This was two weeks ago! Yet as Scotty was seated at the table among the others, waiting for the commander to come in, she couldn’t help but fidget with her fingers. Her face never showed an ounce of worry though. It did help when the woman next to her started to make small talk. It was her first briefing for an important mission that was all she knew. The door finally opened, everyone went quiet and the commander stepped in followed by two others. 

“Gentlemen, ladies.” Commander Peeters spoke up. This was enough to get all their attention in a second. “Here’s your next assignment. Willem Müller is a high ranking politician who needs to be at a convention in Paris in the next few days. His voice could tip the balance on new law. This is a joint effort with different countries' special forces. Tomorrow, Mr Müller will be given to us from the KTC coming from Rotterdam. From here, it will be our task to escort him to a town in France to be transferred to the GIGN.”

The rest of the briefing went on to explain their plan of action. Because of the possible threat that someone would like to see Müller dead, the plan was to not take any obvious route to the rendezvous point. Even if it would take more time, the long road was a better option. Despite all the precautions they took with their intel, no one wanted to take any risk and so decoy escorts would be sent on different routes. With enough luck this will keep the VIP safe long enough. All ten agents present were assigned to their task; either decoy or communications.

“And finally, De Keyser and Moreau. You will be tasked with escorting Müller. You will be given instructions about your route ten minutes before the handover. This is an important mission, I do trust you to bring him safely to destination.” 

“Yes sir.” De Keyser was quick to reply. Scotty nodded determined. 

“Everyone dismissed.” The small tension that had built up dropped slightly. De Keyser turned to Scotty. He had seen her in the hallway in the past weeks; it was always easy to spot newbies. But he never approached her, he never really had a reason for it. Till today. He extended his hand.

“Aangenaam. First assignment here?” 

Scotty shook his hand firmly. “Yes, sir.” 

“Mind if I ask a few questions? I like to know who I work with.”

“Go ahead.” 

De Keyser went on asking the basic questions she was expecting. What was she doing before; four years in the army. Why did she decide to join the BSF; she wanted a different challenge in life but not to compromise the military lifestyle. Her experiences in general with handling protection of high profile. What she considered her strongest and weakest points. Felt like a second interview and she handled the situation just like one. Maybe a little more lose on some answers with a few little jokes in between. She didn’t want to give the impression of being too serious. 

On his side, De Keyser gave a quick overview of his days in the military as well; ten years, then he decided to settle down for something less high risk. Although as a PMC, he was still part of dangerous missions but they were more in the country. Or nearby. He did enjoy the change of pace. “How long have you been working here?” She asked.

“Five years and not a day I regret. I do get to see my family more.” 

“That’s great. You have kids?”

He scoffed. “I’m not going to tell you all the secrets yet, newbie.”

Scotty frowned at the nickname. She didn’t like being called so it felt like she was incompetent. “They call me Scotty back in the army. I rather like that.” 

“Noted, newbie.” He winked before leaving the room. That will be a fun team up.

June 13th, 2018, 03:26, Luxembourg

Scotty stood near the truck, arms crossed, her eyes half blinded by the light of the ambulances, police cars and flashlights moving here and there who clashed with the darkness of the night. In one ambulance, they finally load the corpse of the VIP, hidden in a bag. Another one took the two bodies of whomever attacked them. In the third one, De Keyser was being checked for his few injuries. Luckily their injuries were superficial. A faint smile grew on her lips when she saw him wince under the care of the paramedic. The injuries didn’t bother her, what worked her mind to an anxious state was the idea that they had failed their mission. Scotty wished it could have been anything; being late, broken down car, sickness that would have failed it. Something a little more mundane, less about to cause political problems. Talk about a first assignment! In the distance they saw their commander finally arriving on the scene. It was hard to say if he was mad or not. When he was in talking distance, his face remained so neutral it was impossible to read him. Scotty’s eeriness only grew bigger. They fucked up really bad didn’t they? Every part of her body tensed up as she kept a straight posture, De Keyser also sat better even with the paramedic still finishing on his arm. Once this was done, Peeters asked that they be left alone. They were both ready for any consequences that might come their way.

‘‘When I choose to send one of my most trusted and best operatives, this is not what the result I expect from them.’’ The man said in a rather calm tone. Scotty figured out he was addressing De Keyser. The lieutenant knew his commander for a long time now and even him still couldn’t tell what emotion he was hiding behind his calmness. But he had the feeling something was being kept from him. 

‘‘I know it won’t change anything sir, but I am sorry. This is my fault, I was the driver. I should have taken us out of the situation better than this. But we were clearly ambushed and they had heavier weapons than us.’’

‘‘I saw someone leaning and then our car was sent flying.” Scotty added. “I would say some rocket launcher, very heavy caliber for sure. Whoever they are, they have the resources, sir.”  

“We are well aware of this.” The two agents looked at each other confused. Their commander sighed. “I haven’t been completely honest with you and this was for the security of our VIP. Seeing the current situation we are in right now, proved to be a good decision.” 

De Keyser hopped down the ambulance. “What the hell are you talking about? What is going on?”

“The truth is, you were the decoy of a decoy to put it bluntly.”

“So a bait?” Scotty deducted. That was a plot twist she didn’t expect and wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Commander Peeters nodded.

“In some way. We were aware that there had been a possible leak or mole. We aren’t sure where from, it could be KTC, could be us or anyone in the personal protection of Müller, but we know for sure the threat is real. The man you were transporting was an impostor.”

“You gotta be kidding me! That’s not true, the man we had in the car… he looked just like…”

Peeters went on to explain about a not so well known way of impersonating someone. Using plastic surgery to make an almost look-a-like in a twin. Obviously, the man knew the risk this meant, but he was well paid. Thankfully he also had no family meaning no one would look for him if he died or went missing. The way this was described made Scotty very uneasy. Impersonating was one thing, but to go through that length to make sure your enemies wouldn’t kill you? This was a new level of weirdest things she ever heard of. No mentioning how inconsiderate the last part felt; using someone who had nothing to lose, no family, this was low. Politics and the rich were a world league apart from hers. The two agents looked at one another still baffled by what they learned, but had to put their heads back in the game. “So what now, Commander?” De Keyser asked. He sure hoped they wouldn't be sent home right away. 

“Now that we know who we have looked out for,” He was referring to the two bodies. “I have another job for you. Müller has his family with him. Wife and kid. They won’t follow him to the convention, but will be in a nearby area, at the border of Belgium and France. They will be remaining in the country and we will provide security. They can be potential targets. Go to this address as soon as possible and take over the police agents.” 

He handed them a paper with said address written on it. Minimizing the leaks.

June 13, 2018, 10:00, Belgium

She slammed the car’s door. De Keyser made remarks about it, but she was exhausted; she couldn’t care less. He rested on their way here, she did not. Scotty noticed the two cars in front of the house. Regular civilian cars in the distance, on a closer inspection not so much. To be honest, she was still shocked by the idea of someone using a total stranger as a decoy. In all years in the military, she never heard of such a story and it did sound like some plot from a terrible movie. Always half lost in her thoughts, the young woman knocked at the door, four times as it was instructed on the paper. A few seconds later, a police officer answered. A quick exchange of formality, any important information and two hours later, the police left.  

Sitting in the living room, the two agents were left with the politician’s family in a rather heavy atmosphere. Prior to their arrival and because they didn’t know, De Keyser and Scotty agreed on not talking about what happened in Luxembourg. Who knew what secret Müller kept from his family. In the couch in front of them, Müller’s wife was sitting, arms crossed and an annoyed look on her face. Next to her, their son who was nose deep in a book. Whenever his eyes would lift up, he shared the same annoyed look as his mother. Scotty rolled her eyes internally; this would be fun.

De Keyser was used to this and didn’t really care. He actually found it funny to see his teammate reacting the way she did. Even if she didn’t show it, he could read it all over her face. “Scotty, why don't you go around the house and check the perimeter?”

“Yes sir.” She stood up, started on the ground floor. The house wasn’t big, it would be a standard size but Belgian convention. What made it a little more luxurious was it was detached from others; not the typical sandwiched houses. Clearly, its only use was for witness protection or the likes of it. The interior design lacked the charm, the comfort and welcoming feeling of a normal house. In retrospect, this could explain the sour mood of their ‘guests’. As she climbed the set of stairs to the first level, nothing to report ground one, she wondered how many times they had to be kept safe in such a place before. Probably not their first time. First floor had the necessary for a small family; two bedrooms and a bathroom. Just like before, no sense of interior design. So bland. She checked the window for any movement outside. All she noticed from the high ground was a small camera hidden in the trees around the house. These were directly connected to the various screens Scotty saw in the kitchen. No one should sneak up on them in theory. Scotty returned to the living room only to be greeted by an annoyed wife who was demanding to speak to her husband. De Keyser was calmly repeating for the ten times that this was not possible; not till the agents themselves heard anything from their commander. 

“How often do you go through this ma’am?” 

“Every single time he needs to go prove something to the world. I just want to know if he is alright, can’t you check then? Why is it so hard to get an answer!”

“Well ma’am, you should know how it works by now. No communication with the exterior world till they contact us. Now that this is clear, would you like some tea to calm your nerves maybe?” He made a small bow, hands pointed to the kitchen. The woman huffed with a renewed annoyed expression, yet accepted the offer. Scotty was impressed by the boldness the lieutenant showed. He patted her shoulder with a smile. The young woman was left alone with the boy who had his eyes just above the book. He quickly returned to his pages when he noticed that she was watching him. Scotty tilted her head to read the title of what he was hiding behind. A smile grew on her lips.

“I read that book when I was your age.” She said, retaking her place on the couch in front.

“Good for you.” He replied with a tone that matched his mother. Scotty analyzed the book. The binding was thorn, pages yellow by the exposition to the sun, the cover’s corners were in a bad shape. Either folded or teared. It didn’t look like the boy never really cared for the book, in fact, it seems like he probably read more than two times. 

“Comfort book?” The boy lowered his possession, surprised. “How many times did you read it?”  

“Every time my dad is not around.” So quite often. 

“Have you read the rest of the series?”

The boy suddenly closed his book and stood up. “I know how it is with people like you, try to make small talk to make me feel like everything is ok, no need to worry, your dad is important that’s why you need protection bla bla bla. Save your breath, I don’t need that.”

Scotty raised her eyebrows taken aback. The boy hurried upstairs to avoid any more of the conversation. Yet a minute later he popped his head only to admit that he never did because his dad thinks it’s a stupid series and never bothered to buy him more of the books. The young woman shook her head with a smile. Kids.

Later that day as both Müller went to bed, De Keyser and Scotty were left alone, keeping an eye on the cameras and about to decide who would take the first watch. Scotty was letting her mind wander as her eyes were fixated on the screen showing the backyard. This was so much different than she expected when she accepted the job offer. She thought that she might do more exciting missions such as counter terrorism or covert assignments. VIP protection? Not sure it was her cup of tea and especially not with all the secrets she was discovering at the moment. However, she still had seen some action. Being almost blown off on your first day? That was worth the years in the army; very much well prepared for that. The chair creaked next to her brought her back to reality. De Keyser replaced himself, arms crossed on his chest. “Don’t be upset about all of that, kabouter, if anything this is your new life now. Alright, it won’t be VIPs all the time, but these kinds of strange things you learn. The little secrets, if you knew half of the things I heard before.”

“You did look as surprised as I was back then. And secrets you say?”

“I’m not spilling a single one. There’s a reason our motto is Tacita Vox. Silent voice. We do our job, make sure it is as incognito and silent as possible and never speak of it ever again.”

“Thanks for the language lesson, Lt. Who’s taking the first watch?”

“I will. Go get some rest, Scotty.” De Keyser wished her goodnight and followed her till she disappeared behind the corner. He didn’t know how she ever found out about the BSF but he was glad she did. She had good potential.

December 12th, 2017, Belgium

“You know my cousin is working for this… Oh what it is called… PMC! Yeah and he said they’re will be an entrance exam soon.”

She whipped the grease of her hands and turned to Kamal. He was leaning on the open hood of the vehicle. “So mercs?”

“Sort of. I mean it doesn’t stop them from undercover shit and all of that. According to my cousin of course. He might be saying things to make it sound like it’s better.”

“And you are telling me this because?” 

“You are the one who mentioned you want new challenges, something different than the army.”

It was true that she was looking for something that would change from what it felt like a routine almost. The army was great, Scotty didn’t have to complain about anything. However, she wanted more than just being randomly deployed at advantage points. She had enough action that wasn’t the problem, but it never like what she did made an impact in the world. Not in the way she would like. She might have been inspired by all the stories she would hear from other nations like SAS or Navy Seals, even the KTC. Of course a PMC was a completely different branch. Their operations were rarely ruled the same as the army or special task force. In that case it would be jumping in the unknown. Which in itself didn’t sound so bad. Scotty would need a few days to think about.

“What about you?” She asked, closing the hood and putting back away her tools.

“Me?” Kamal scoffed. “I considered it for a moment, but honestly I’m done. I have seen too much bullshit for one lifetime. I quit for good, I can’t handle this anymore.” He stayed silent for a moment, his eyes looking down to the ground. “I’m still not over what happened back then.”

“Kamal, it’s been two years…”

“Not everyone can get over it as easily as you did, Moreau! For fuck sake.”

“Easy? It took me months to get back on my feet as well. Don’t think I don’t still feel guilty that we survived and them not. But what can we do about it? We can dwell as much as we want on it, it won’t bring them back. I’m not stopping you from quitting, but quitting won’t change that guilt. I just want you to be able to live with it and not let it get to you, you know.”

Kamal nodded, not wanting to add more to this part of the conversation. “So, hmm, interested in the PMC?”

“I could check it out. What is it called?” 

“Belgian Silent Forces.”

June 15th, 2018, 14:37, Belgium

The last few days have been quiet in all possible ways. No threat had been detected so far, and only received very short news about their politician. He had been transferred to the GIGN without trouble and was well on time for his convention. De Keyser was used to this, a few updates, however he wished his commander could send more. At least the wife would leave him alone with all her questions. It was to wonder why she was still even with the man if she couldn’t handle this lifestyle. Then again, love was blind and worth the sacrifice, right? There were  moments he was so close to lose his patience. He was being bold at times, he knew it but this was nothing compared to letting go of all his professionalism and filters. At least, Scotty seemed to do better with the boy. 

They had dusted off one of the many boring board games they found in the closet. It took Scotty almost a whole day to get Paul to trust her a little and be able to open up. It was much easier after she convinced him she didn’t care for small talk either. All she wanted was to make sure he wasn’t bored out of his mind. “Do you have kids?” He asked as he finished his turn. 

“No.” Scotty grabbed the dice and rolled them. Not a bad score there. She moved her pawn accordingly. 

“Siblings?”

“Yes. A sister. You?”

“No. Otherwise I wouldn’t be alone here.”

“Fair enough.” That was how much their conversations went most of the time. Short, simple to the point. Paul was the winner of this round and they went for a fourth one. The day was slow, the sun shyly shining through the windows. The atmosphere reminded her of home in a way, if she ignored the potential threat.

June 17th, 2018, 4:56, Belgium

Her eyes felt heavy. Either Scotty needed to get up to grab some more coffee or she should ask De Keyser to take over. He was sleeping, half snoring on the couch in the room next door. Their task was almost over; the patriarch of the family had given his speech back at the convention and would be on his way back soon. He didn’t want to stay too long in the same area and missed his family. Maybe. This meant Paul and his mother would also soon be escorted out of the country. Scotty admitted that she would miss the kid, he was a nice one once you get past his ‘I’m broody kid’ facade. She even promised him that she would try to get him the rest of the book series. She probably still had them somewhere at home, then she needed to find a way to get them delivered to him and voila! 

The sergeant pinched the bridge of her nose with a silent groan as fatigue took a stronger hold on her mind. She had to wake the lieutenant up and take a rest. One last quick glance at the cameras, she got up to shake him. De Keyser mumbled something before he woke up. Without even exchanging a word, they traded places in less than a minute. Scotty let herself fall on the couch, arms above her eyes to cover any lights and let her body take the rest it deserved. Five minutes later, she began to fall asleep. 

“Hey Scotty.” De Keyser’s voice sounded far, yet clear.

“What?”

“We got movement outside.” The chair scraped the tiles underneath. 

“Where?” Her arm moved away from her face to grab on the cushion and pushed herself up. As the two operatives were slowly raising the alert, a knock echoed in the room. A very monotone one. They were fully awake, standing two meters away from the entrance, hands resting on their guns. The unknown knocked again at the door. Same regular pattern. 

“Police!” A voice rose from behind. De Keyser gave a nod in the stairs direction. Go get the wife and kid. This was not the police. They knew what to say and used a signal to announce themselves. And most importantly, they were not expected here. Scotty climbed to the first floor quickly, waking up both VIPs. The lieutenant took his gun out and approached the door. “Open up!”

The chain was always locked, De Keyser opened, his gun hidden but ready. A crack open, he looked outside. “Yes, how can I help you sir?”

“We had a call about this house.” The man  was clearly dressed as a police officer but his behavior seemed off. “Complaints.”

“At this time of the day? Well it must be a mistake, my family and I were sleeping.”

“Let us in and we can discuss.”

Scotty put her fingers on her lips. Paul and his mother understood to keep it quiet. The three of them tiptoed downstairs as De Keyser was stalling the unknowns. The woman led the two outside using the backyard door. Barely one step outside, she heard a loud crash noise. The next thing she saw was the lieutenant running towards her yelling to get the family in the car now. No need to tell her twice. She pushed the woman and the kid to their car and grabbed the wheel. De Keyser threw himself on the hood, slided and reached the passenger seat. In less than five minutes, the car was reeving down the streets as the others chased them. It gave some déjà vu. Scotty hoped they wouldn't pull out another RPG. It was early enough in the day that the streets were mostly empty. It was the time the night shifts encountered the early shifts on their way to the respective destination. Both were rather surprised to see a car speeding in the main road, followed by two other cars. Scotty took a sharp turn to the right, she had to get out of town and get on the highway. Gain more speed and try to lose them. 

“Where do we go!” Scotty asked as they got on the highway. Traffic was more dense than in town and she had to maneuver around the cars.

“Keep going and take the next third exit! I think we might be able to lose them there somewhere.”

The first wave of bullets, surprisingly it took this long to be shot at, hit the rear window almost making it shatter. Paul and his mother screamed before ducking on the seat. De Keyser used the opening in the back to shoot back at the aggressors. Scotty pushed the pedal forcing the car to go past its limit, made an abrupt change of lane and another one to avoid the slower traffic. Her hands were crisped on the wheel, it was painful. The third exit came into view to her relief, making more abrupt changes, she exited the highway at very high speed. She slammed the breaks when the curve appeared, turned the wheel and drifted along it. Everyone in the car was roughly pressed on one side, till the road was straight again. Scotty kept driving to an old abandoned building to where De Keyser told her to stop. Parked the car inside it to hide their present, hopefully. “Everyone out.” The lieutenant ordered.

“What is this place?” Scotty asked, frowning. She slammed the door. “Secret hideout?”

“Found it when I looked for a possible hiding spot in the area. After we arrived.”

“An old building about to collapse? How in the fuck is that going to help?” De Keyser’s head turned surprised to hear her swear like this. 

“This is may not-”

“The best place? No shit Sherlock! How are we supposed to protect them here? This an open place for a fucking ambush!”

“Sergeant! Watch your tone!” Scotty realized she might have crossed a line here. However she wasn’t wrong. Right now the main room was completely open with no cover. Broken doors or simply opening in the walls lead to other rooms but there was no idea what they looked like. It could be the same or as worse as now. De Keyser crossed the distance between them planting himself only a few inches of her. “Now is not the time to question my decisions. Now is not the time to pretend to know better. We need to find a way to get rid of these guys without putting in danger our VIPs, we need to divide and conquer, understood? Staying in one group will only be a hassle. You take the kid, I’ll take care of our lady. Stays on comms and doesn't take any unnecessary risk, but neutralizes the threats. Did I make myself clear, sergeant?”

“Yes sir.” She greeted her teeth. Scotty didn’t mean to lose her cool like she just did and accepted how harsh her superior talked to her back. But this felt ridiculous! But this was his order, so be it.  She grabbed Paul’s hand and pulled him towards one of the openings De Keyser pointed her to head to. 

Scotty found what seemed to be an old office room… or infirmary. There was a desk, two beds and a closet. Not many hiding options. But she had to find something quick. It didn’t take long after they split to hear the cars, followed by shouting and heavy steps echoing in the main room. It was hard to make out how many men there were. A rough guess, at least eight if both cars were full. They would be outnumbered one to four. The small hand tighten around hers brings her back to reality. He was scared, almost shaking. Very different than the boy she met a few days ago. He was clearly aware that the situation was bad. “Are they trying to kill us?” 

What to say? Scotty didn’t know herself if these men wanted to kill them or kidnap them and ask for ransom. But she was sure of one thing. “They won’t. I won’t let them. Now…” Her eyes looked everywhere around the room and she saw it. “The vent! Ok, Paul, have you seen Hollywood movies where they hide in a vent?” 

The kid nodded. “Alright, let’s play hollywood. You go hide in it and you don’t make a noise. You don’t get out of it unless I say so.” Scotty grabbed on the side of the vent, pulled the grid and gave a push when Paul climbed in. Once he was secured in, she smiled at him promising that all would be fine. The grid back in place, Paul was left with only his breath and heartbeat thumping in his ears. 

The sergeant turned around, checked to make sure it didn’t seem obvious that the kid was in there and carefully returned to the door frame. Her gun out, she leaned to scan the hallway. Footsteps echoed clearly toward her position. Her next move had to be well calculated. She could already start shooting, but she was outnumbered. Every bullet must count. Letting them get closer was also an option but a risk to Paul and would be more dangerous for herself as well. Another third option was to remain as silent as possible, hoping they would just pass them by. De Keyser’s voice cracking in her radio startled her. “How’s your status, Scotty?”

“VIP is secure for now. I have possibly four hostile people approaching my location. You?”

“Took care of one, three more to go. Madam Müller is scared but safe. Remember, don’t do anything stupid.” 

“Roger that, sir.” Nothing stupid right… She stowed her gun back in the holster without securing it. She will always be able to quickly draw. The four men outside stopped their run and calmly walked in the hallway partially looking in every room. They talked about something she didn’t quite catch because of the echo. Not that she needed to anyway. Another glance at the vent; still looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. Good. A creaking noise made her turn around. One of the men entered the room, gun pointed at her. She raised her arms on the side of her head. 

“Easy gentlemen.” Scotty said calmly. Another man came in, in the same stance as his friend. “Let’s talk about all of this, like civilized persons.” 

“Shut up! Where’s the kid!” The one on the left shouted.

“What kid?”

“Don’t play dumb with us, where is the kid!”

“Obviously not here.” The man grew tired of her attitude and put his gun at the ready. “Sure shoot me. I mean that’s the best way to know where the kid is right.”

Her leverage. Kill her and they wouldn’t know, keep her alive there was a slim chance. The two men seemed to have the same reasoning. They lowered their guns and approached her. “Last time I asked, where is the kid?”

“You know, I have seen more shit than this before, it will take more than that to make me talk.”

He grabbed Scotty by the collar. “You think you can play smartass with us? Very well, we will make you talk.” His fist flew hard against her jaw, sending her on the ground. 

Paul tensed up when he saw the punch. His fists clenched, his fingernails dug in his palm and he remained still. He watched the man lift her up and punch her second time in the face. Repeated the same thing but this time the punch landed in her stomach. The boy wanted to scream for help. He bit his lips to keep it down, he had promised no noise. He hated the sounds of her grunting as the men punched her again. She was getting hurt because of him. Because she tried to protect him. 

Scotty wiped the blood from her mouth, slowly raising up. Her jaw was jolting in pain, her sides as hurted. She took a deep breath. “Come on boys. That’s all you got? Even a rookie in the army punches stronger than that!”

The left man saw red. He threw himself at her, just like she wanted. Scotty dove under his arm, the punch brushing above her back. Pivoting around herself, she grabbed his wrist, her shoulder placed right at the junction of his elbow and crack! The man cried out in pain. Her hand reached for his gun who was hanging there and fired two shots at the other opponent who dropped without even reacting. Always holding the first, Scotty pressed the nuzzle on his chest and pressed the trigger. Two less to worry about. Gunshots came through the door as the last two prepared to enter the room. Scotty flipped the desk and used it as cover. Better than nothing. However the two men went with the same idea, using the bed that was closer to them. They shot first. As soon as it seemed like they would have reloaded, Scotty mounted her pistol on the desk and aimed. She shot one warning and hoped it would be enough to trick them. One raised his head a few millimeters too high and this was perfect for her. She pressed the trigger; bullseyes! 

Yet she was exposed. Lucky the last remaining threat fired while being behind cover and missed all his shots and she ducked behind her cover. “Why don’t we talk, girl!” The man shouted.

“You saw what talking did to your friends, are you sure?” 

“Is it really worth getting yourself killed for these people?”

“I could return the same question!”

This little banter came to an abrupt silence. Scotty looked around her cover and saw nothing. She returned to her previous position, a gun pressed on her temple. Sneaky bastard! He ordered her to drop the gun and get up. Reluctantly, the sergant did. The man kicked her weapon far away. “Talk now!”

“He is in the vent there.” The man gestured to her to get on and open the grid for him. Scotty did. Paul was always there, terrified.

“Trust me.” She whispered. The kid shook his head refusing to get out, she couldn’t blame him. “I can’t reach him, he doesn’t want to get out!”

The man groaned and sweared, he pulled Scotty away and climbed himself to get at the vent height. This would do. Scotty grabbed the knife hidden in her tact vest and plunged the blade in his thigh. He screamed in pain, his grip around his gun loosened. In a reflex, she reached for it and fired three shots in his chest. This time the kid let out a shriek, covering his ears, tears rolling down his cheeks. The calm eerie silence regained its place in the room. Scotty allowed herself to breathe, but no time to rest. She radioed her lieutenant to know his situation. They were actually en route to rejoin them. That was some good news. Scotty returned to the vent.

She extended her hand to Paul. “It’s over, you can come out now. You are safe.” Shaking, he grabbed into her and crawled out. Back on his two feet, he looked at her, fear in his eyes. Without even a second of hesitation, Paul hugged her and cried. Scotty was surprised at first. Eventually, she returned the hug with a pat on his head.

*****

Half an hour later, the police, ambulance and other operatives of the BSF arrived on location. It gave her another déjà vu, the difference this time everything had a good ending. Müller was reunited with his family which would explain the heavy surveillance. Scotty was surprised to see the real politician… she hoped. The paramedic was tending to her. De Keyser took a seat next to her. 

“How are you doing?”

“A terrible pain in the head, a few bruises. I’ll live.” He nodded. Scotty’s eyes looked down for a moment then back at him. “I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

“Do you often question your superiors?” She shook her head. “Don’t sweat it Scotty, you are all forgiven. Given the context, anyone would have had such a reaction, but don’t forget to trust your superior. Also, you did surprise me.”

“Turns out I’m not so reserved and obedient?” She chuckled. 

“So it would seem, I like that. You know when to point out when something is wrong and not afraid to speak up your mind. I would choose my words carefully however if I were you. Swearing isn’t too pretty.”

“Sorry Lt, no can't do. Swearing is like breathing, it’s a good stress relief.” They both had a laugh. Their commander joined them to thank them for a job well done with the family. The man of the house was very grateful to have his wife and kid still alive. They watched as they loaded in the car ready to be escorted back home. Scotty suddenly remembered something. She jumped off the ambulance and ran to the vehicle and knocked on the window. The wife rolled it down, wondering what was going on. The sergeant asked Paul if he could give her his address. A quick glance at his parents who silently accepted. All she said is that she had a promise to keep. She would need to dig in some boxes back at home, but she would send the rest of the book series for sure.

The car gently rolled away as she waved goodbye. She then climbed on her own with the lieutenant ready to go home.

“One more question kabouter, do you like your new job?”

“You were doing so great Lt!” She groaned as he used this nickname again. “But yes. It’s not so bad. I think I’ll like it here.”

January 6, 2022, BSF Headquarters, Belgium

She was sitting against the desk doing some casual chatting with her colleagues. It was a calm day with not much paperwork to do and she was mainly waiting on a new assignment. A few jokes in the conversation, she saw De Keyser approach.

“Hey Johan!” She greeted him.

“Scotty.” He matched her enthusiastic tone. “Commander Peeters wants to see you. He said he has another special mission for you. Alone. Again.”

“Aww, are you saying you miss the good old days?”

“And have you as a pain in the ass? Yeah a little. Don’t make him wait, he doesn’t look too happy today.”

On this, Scotty hastened to the commander’s office. She knocked on the door before entering. The man was sitting at his desk, a dossier in front of him. He gestured at her to take a seat. “I have something for you. It’s a job I want to be well done, with no failure. I trust that I can count on you for this?”

“Yes, sir.” She took the dossier and read between the lines quickly.

“Then, I want you to find and stop this man. Hans Lambert.”

[nightwingshero]

WIP I’m Always Late To These Things

I was tagged by @simonxriley @detectivelokis @aceghosts @sstewyhosseini thank you lovelies!!! 

Tagging: @playstationmademe @jinfromyarikawa @marivenah @direwombat @ghastlyrider @voidika @shegetsburned @socially-awkward-skeleton @minilev @fadedjacket @vampireninjabunnies-blog @strafethesesinners @cobb-vanthss @glowwormsmith and anyone else who would like to share!

I don’t know how but I managed to skip right over writing for RDR2 to writing for Resident Evil. I don’t know what happened yes I do, I just don’t want to admit that I’m in the merciless grip of Leon Kennedy. I also want to point out that this is very rough, I’m probably going to rewrite this because I’m just throwing words down to get the scene out of my head. Don’t @ me. 

My heart was pounding almost as loud as my boots were against the wet concrete, making me wince with each step I had to take. Everything in me was begging me to turn around, but I couldn’t. Sitting ducks meant that I was just a trapped animal waiting for slaughter and I refused to be helpless as the world around me went to shit—if I was going to die, I’d do it with a shotgun and my middle finger in the air, chipped black nail polish and all.

But it wasn’t that drastic urge to fight like some heroine in a sci-fi movie that had me leaving the odd comforts of the tattoo shop I was holed up in once shit hit the fan. No, I wasn’t some alien-slaying badass like in the movies, I was scared shitless and the only thing that had me stepping outside was the crash I had heard. Close enough for me to tell it was a semi and enough to make me almost piss myself from the jump scare it caused. But I sucked it up and held the cool metal and wood in my hands as the rain poured, making my hold tighten even more. The black tears began to run clear hours ago, the rain and constant need to wipe my face with shaky hands forcing any remaining eyeliner off. In a city full of zombies, it was nice to know that I looked less like a psycho clown and more like a drowned rockstar with a shotgun.

I wasn’t sure which was worse if I were being honest.

The rain just continued to seep into my clothes, my oversized flannel no longer protecting me from the elements as it clung to my skin, the tank top underneath wasn’t much better off. It was the skinny jeans that were the most irritating. Wet jeans were annoying at best, hard to move in at worst, but I was sure that it was the least of my issues as I came to an abrupt stop, my breath catching in my throat. I took a step closer to the brick building, ducking down only slightly from behind a taxi that had crashed off the street, as I watched silently. There were two of them, one next to a pile of cars as they burned, the other standing in the middle of the road as it shuffled aimlessly. They both mumbled, groaning things that were too low for me to hear over the rain as it splattered against the yellow metal of the car. Letting out a slow, unsteady breath, I began to make my way around the car just as it turned and walked back towards its friend.

Once the way was clear, I made a mad dash to the alleyway and made a quick turn at the end.

It was a mistake. Mostly because I didn’t look before bolting down the secluded area or that I didn’t take a second to hear the horrid noises coming from it. All it took was a couple of seconds. In the first, we had both rounded the corner at the same time. The next had us lifting our weapons simultaneously as my heart hammered so hard I thought I would suffer from cardiac arrest in the filthy alley of Raccoon fucking City. My hands shook at the thought. I was terrified and I couldn’t quite bring myself to care if he saw it or not, not as my shotgun was aimed right at his chest as I took the next second to take him in.

He was calmer than me, not by much, but the way he pulled his gun and held it told me enough that he was comfortable enough to handle himself. I had a bad feeling about the implications as he shifted his weight on his feet just slightly. The rain was making his brown hair dark, his blue eyes clear as he watched me, though it made me feel as if he was seeing way more than I had. I couldn’t help but wonder how I looked to him, beanie sogging wet and stuck to the long black hair that was long plastered to my cold skin. I hoped it wasn’t how my hands shook slightly.

“Whoa, easy now. Put the gun down.” he ordered softly, as if he knew the words to say but hadn’t had them leave his tongue often enough for them to feel quite right.

“Fuck you.”

[joshscurlyhair]

☽ 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣 - 𝕛𝕠𝕤𝕙 ☽

Summary: Meet Desta, an artist, a dreamer. Desta is Josh’s childhood friend. Desta just broke up with her boyfriend of three years and during that time she has hardly contacted Josh due to the fact she has had a crush on him since they were in elementary. With Desta single and Josh circling her mind, will they eventually become something more?

Warnings: Language, kissing

☾Join the Taglist!☽ : @angelqueen99 @jordierama

Word count: 1.9k

And the air was full

Of various storms and saints

Parading in the streets

As the banks began to break

And I'm in the throes of it

Flashback:

“ Get your shit! Get the fuck out of here! “

I couldn’t stop crying, tears fell from my eyes and my nose became runny as my cheeks flush a deep red from frustration

I quickly get my stuff to get away from this dick and headed out

And just my luck it was raining

“ Fuck! “

I start to think who the hell to call - “ Josh! “ I whisper yell at the thought of him. I quickly hit his contact and call him as my phone began to rang.

“ Hello? Desta? It’s been so long how have- “

“ Josh- I can’t make small talk right now- “

I began to sob. “ Drew, my boyfriend just kicked me out and broke up with me “, I say beginning to fully sob now. “ - Where are you Desta? “

I sent Josh the address and he was immediately on his way.

I sat in the rain as the negative thoughts start to consume me of what just happened

I put my hands on my face completely in distraught

BEEP BEEP

“ Get in! “

My face lit up when I saw Josh and I immediately got into his white jeep. “ Thank you Josh “. I say as I looked down slightly embarrassed. Josh then lifted up my face placing his fingers under my chin, “ Hey don’t ever feel embarrassed of this. None of this is your fault, it’s that dicks fault. I swear if I ever see him again- “ Josh stops and calms himself and starts to drive. “ The guys still with you? “, “ You know it! “ He responds. I give a light smile and kept my eyes focused on the road completely zoning out and letting my thoughts fill the void.

" Desta- "

I jumped at the sudden voice calling my name. I placed my hand over my chest and realized the car is now parked at the house

I guessed I REALLY zoned out

" Sorry-I guess I zoned out ", Josh gives a sympathetic look and motions for me to come in the house to get warm. I stepped out of the jeep and walked up to his front porch. " Gosh, let's get you inside you're freezing! " Josh says touching my hands and giving me butterflies. Josh opens the front door and we both stepped inside.

Josh scurries me over to the bathroom and instantly runs me a hot shower. He twists the knob on the shower and I slightly shiver standing behind him.

He stands up straight after getting the shower going and gives me a warm smile as I managed to send a warm smile back shivering my ass off. "Let's get you nice and warm. I'm gonna go and get you a fresh towel okay? I'll also bring your suitcase in ", I give a warm smile " Thank you Josh so much ", he nods and gives me a gentle and sweet look. He snaps out of it and says, "- Well uh the guys are asleep so you don't have to worry about them tonight- so uh yeah I'll be back in shortly, feel free to step right in and get warmed up " Josh says then stepping out and closing the door.

I started taking off my soaked clothes and set them on top of the toilet seat as I began to head into the shower. I stepped in and felt the hot water that landed on my skin. I let out a exhale of relief and began to wash my body.

CREEKKKK

I slightly jump at the sudden noise and look to my left and see the door slightly open a bit. " Hey! I got your suitcase and a towel " He yells over the sound of the shower running. " Okay! You can come in! " I replied. He comes in not looking up respecting my privacy and sets the towel down and moved my suitcase forward then closes the door.

I chuckle and continued to finish my refreshing hot shower

When I was done I stepped out and got ready into my pjs. I brushed my hair and placed my brush back into my suitcase. I gave myself one last look in the mirror staring at myself.

I walked out of the bathroom in comfy pjs and found myself walking into the kitchen where I saw Josh who was setting two bowls of soup on the table. He notices me and gives a warm smile. " How was the shower?! ", " Refreshing," I say walking up to the kitchen closer now. " I made us soup! The nice hot bowl will warm you up as well " He says motioning for me to sit down next to him that I gladly took a seat next to him and thanked him.

I take a first sip of the soup and smile feeling the hot liquid fill my mouth. " Good? " he asks and I nod taking another sip. There were a couple of minutes of silence that filled until Josh spoke up, " I missed you Desta " He says looking down at his soup. " I miss you too Josh "

" He didn't deserve you.. " Josh says looking down and getting slightly angry at the thought of him. I placed my hand on top of his calming him down and he instantly eases.

We then began to catch up for the remainder of dinner time

----

" - You can sleep in my room tonight. You can sleep on my bed and I can sleep on the couch " He says. " Josh I'm not letting you sleep on the couch," I say laughing. " Why not? ", " Josh.. Just sleep in the bed ". " Alright alright, " He says as we both headed under the covers a bit awkwardly. We both lay there for a minute in silence. " I think I'm gonna head to bed, long day. Thank you Josh for everything ", " Of course Desta " He says giving me a warm smile. I nodded back and turned to my side and closed my eyes

The next day:

I wake up to the birds chipping away and the sunlight that hit my face

I felt an arm around my waist and look to my side and see it’s a sleepy Josh that was basically cuddling me. I smiled and decided to lay back down and letting Josh continue to sleep

Gosh he looked adorable

I always thought Josh was cute. He never stopped being such a cute goofball

I chuckle at my inside thoughts of him, Josh slightly jumped at my sudden chuckle I made and held me against him tighter.

Do it Desta, make a move!

I placed a hand on top of Josh’s hair and started to play with his curls gently making him feel even more comfy and relaxed.

Too tempting not to touch

But even though it shocked you

Something's electric in your blood

Josh slowly starts to wake up, feeling him move his body slowly. “-Woah shit, I’m so sorry “ Josh says realizing he was cuddling with you and was invading your space. “ it’s okay… I didn’t mind “ I say blushing. He instantly blushes and stands up. “ How did you sleep? “ Josh says taking off his shirt as you started to stare at his body. There was a long silence that filled the air from you staring at his skin, muscles, fingers- “ Hellooo? Earth to Desta? “ Josh waves his hand in front of you. You snap out of it and immediately began to stutter. Josh chuckles knowing you were staring at his body. Josh puts on his classic white shirt and winked at me walking out of the room and into the living room where his brothers and Danny were

You began changing getting into your outfit of the day then putting on a little makeup and finishing it off with touching up your hair. You began walking down the steps heading the boys already chatting.

“ Desta!! Long time no see! “ Sam says setting down his orange juice cup. I reached to the bottom of the stairs, “ Yeah it’s definitely been a while, I missed you guys “ I say giving all the boys big hugs. “ We should totally celebrate! “ Danny mentions as everyone agrees. “- Guys you don’t have to- “, “ No we insist! We’re gonna celebrate of your welcoming here “ Sam comments as we all cheers with our orange juice cups.

———-

You could just feel Josh’s gaze on you tonight. It felt like lasers beaming into me.

I was wearing a sexy laced top that I’ve been dying to wear because Drew would never let me wear it anywhere and forced me to change.

“ To Desta “ Jake says as we raised our glasses of champagne. I smiled as we all took a sip. “ And fuck that guy “ Danny comments as the boys agreed and commented with a few yeah’s.

The night consisted of refills of sparkling champagne, Sam cheating in Jenga and belly holding laughs that would make us flop over the couches we were sitting on.

The whole time I felt Josh’s gaze still on me, I do have to admit we did catch each-other staring at one another from time to time and we would instantly smirk afterwards.

I headed into the kitchen to get another cheese stick that I unexpectedly craved for some reason. When I shut the fridge I saw Josh instantly on my left. I jumped and he chuckled, “ It’s just me mama “. He says in a seductive calming tone. I immediately began to get butterflies and my cheeks flushed a deep red. Josh smirked at your cute reaction and began to step forward closer to you and out his hand gently on your cheek. “ You have no idea how much I care about you..“ He says as he took my wrist and placed us in a room away from the guys.

“ You have no fucking idea how much I’ve hidden inside about you Desta “ Josh says looking me deep into my eyes. “ I know I may have teased you to the point where it was at times just straight up rude, I know I may have not contacted you in so long-not because I didn’t wanna talk to you it’s just I felt so fucking bad that I would sometimes act like such a dick to you. I’m so fucking pissed at myself I should’ve contacted you to see how you were doing because that bastard was hurting you all this time “

Josh put his hands on his face trying to hold his tears in from the overwhelming amount of feelings he’s having. I stepped closer to him, pulled his hands away from his face gently and put my lips on his instantly. Josh had wide eyes and was shocked if this was actually happening. He soon eases and deepens in the kiss pinning me against a wall and attacking me with kisses on my neck and whispering sweet nothings in my ear

“ i love you Desta. I’ve loved you for so long “

Did I hear that right? Did Josh Kiszka really love me?

Outside the world seems a violent place

But you had to have him, and so you did

( AN: Part 2 soon?? 👀 )

[dat-town]

pretty little monster

Characters: hunter!Taehyun & female OC

Setting & genre: supernatural au, bits of horror, based on the Korean folk tale 'the fox sister'

Summary: What makes a monster? What if you're one, too?

Warnings: lots of mentions of blood, murder, cannibalism (as in eating human liver), character death, emotional manipulation, ambiguous ending

Words: 5.2k

Author’s note: this is my part for the happily never after halloween collab by @soobism and @svhnflwr, check out the other authors and have a nice spooky season! ^^

OC is a gumiho (fox spirit) of Korean ethnicity since the story is set in Seoul and to honour the origin of the fairy tale. other than her past, the historical places, events and figures mentioned in the story were real.

She came like a heart attack: breathtaking and out of blue.

She was a vision painted with blood: her body wrapped in a red one piece dress with red high heels, her crimson lips in a wicked smile and her midnight hair in waves. She smiled like mischief, her eyes promising fun as she asked:

"Have you heard the tale of the fox girl who ate her parents and brothers in order to live?"

"I don't believe in fairytales," her company dismissed her question as if it was a silly little thing, something he shouldn't have cared about. Oh, yes, people these days were just like that. Long gone were the days when people called shamans and made talismans upon seeing her vulpine features. Long gone was the time when they stood a chance. Against beings like her.

"But you believe in business," the girl, no older than twenty on the outside, noted like she knew something he didn't. The conglomerate heir pursed his lips and ran a hand through his silky hair, his Swiss watch glinting under the lights. He hated when it wasn't him who had the leverage, so he watched her warily. She carried on with a sweetened smile, granulated like sugar cubes but only half as sweet as poison. "You believe in balance: eye for an eye, life for a life, don't you?"

"What does it have to do with anything?” He tilted his head, confused but curious, his eyes scamming through her perfect porcelain skin and rosy lips. Not for the first time since the mysterious girl took a seat beside him in one of Gangnam's fanciest bars did the young man look at her with interest.

"Everything, handsome, everything," she hummed with a chuckle, her earrings flashing gold just like her eyes under the chandelier's light.

The smallest of her movements were like hypnosis and her laughter was like a siren’s song, drawing the young man in. Like a moth to the flame, the guy was immediately attracted. Stupid like most of them were, he thought it was his idea: paying for her drinks, making small talk, asking if she wanted to get out of this place. So easy, so predictable and all it took was one compliment and a little mystery.

Outside, the night was buzzing, like a vein pulsing with adrenaline and excitement. The clouds were hauntedly dark above and the smell of rain was still almost tangible in the air. Mainstream music’s sound was pouring out onto the streets, mixing with noises of cars passing by. The cry of pain was just another in the cacophony of the wild city and by the time they discover the pool of blood and the body in the parking lot, it would be too late.

A life for a life; or rather a thousand.

Only one more to go.

Taehyun dumped the contents of a trash bin into the container behind the diner with a sigh. Too bad hunting down monsters didn't pay the bills or else he surely wouldn't have worked an underpaid job like this. But this one he could at least take with his lack of working experience and tendencies to call in emergencies every other week. Emergencies as in a vampire caven spreading, incubi disturbing people, kelpis attacking near the Han River or…

“We have a new case,” Jungkook told him over the phone. Taehyun held the device between his ear and his shoulder, humming as he acknowledged the news and to signal that he was listening. He was just too busy focusing on not dumping everything else into the dirt.

"What's it about?" He grunted, throwing the last trash bin in.

"Rich guy found dead in a parking lot in Gangnam," his partner told him, panting as if he was in the middle of a run. Wouldn't have been surprising, Jungkook liked to listen to police radio frequencies during exercise.

"If he was mobbed, it's hardly our case. Let the police do their job for once," Taehyun laughed and put the phone to his other ear as he straightened his back. Yesterday's rain was still pooling out on the streets under his boots as he was walking back through the staff's door.

Jungkook was silent for a moment too long, the boy knew that it could only mean that he was about to tell him why it was their case after all. It was usually some gruesome reason, something unexplainable or even horrid. Something like…

"He wasn't just missing his wallet. He was missing a liver," his hyung said, quiet, knowing that it said enough.

Taehyun stopped in his tracks, frozen, his fingers gripping the phone tighter. There was no need to be told more. He knew what it meant. He knew what kind of monster lived on livers. The liver of men especially.

"How new is it?"

"Just yesterday. She must still be around," Jungkook said and Taehyun hung up the phone. He threw off his silly apron that served as his work uniform and didn't even bother to properly fold it before shoving it into his locker. He grabbed his backpack and made a run for the metroline heading to Gangnam.

Jungkook texted him the location and details of a police file, a medical report about the organ that was removed as if it was clawed out by an animal. The DNA found from the female hair on his jacket didn't match anyone's in the database as if she didn't even exist but Taehyun knew she did. Foxes don't creep into the busy downtown of Seoul to eat the liver of young and rich guys, not real foxes at least.

Taehyun had been obsessed with gumiho cases over the years, so he knew the pattern: glitter and riches that lured them in, livers going missing during when the moon was the fullest and then nothing. Usually the attacks happened in batches, around one place, the taste of blood made these creatures insatiable. Human liver kept them alive and young, it was easy to get high on that feeling and the boy hoped that it would make the fox careless enough to make a mistake.

A mistake that would help him find her before she would disappear like smoke. Again.

He had spent the night lurking around the murder scene, asking around as if he was just a clueless passerby who had seen the police cordons. He had already gotten used to being treated like a kid and not taken seriously, so it wasn’t surprising that nobody thought it would be harmful to tell him what they knew. He might not have gotten into the fancy clubs and luxurious hotels around to be able to find the girl in red whom the victim had been seen with last night, but little did he know that he didn’t need to try so hard.

"Looking for me?"

A girl singsonged and slid into his booth as he was sitting in a definitely overpriced coffee shop in the area, his table full of newspapers, notebooks and coffee stains across the papers. From an outsider point of view he must have looked like a university student studying overnight for his exam but instead of books and study materials, he was reading about murder cases and folklore.

Taehyun looked up from his phone, his gaze settling on the stranger and her smile, red like berries. She wore all black: tight jeans, turtleneck, leather jacket. Even her nails were dark, her eye makeup cat-like and her hair up in a high ponytail. She looked like a model out of a magazine, or one of those customers at his workplace who thought everything revolved around them, daddy’s little princess.

“Sorry?” He decided to play dumb, just to be safe and the girl smiled like adults smile patiently at children who lie about their wrongdoings.

“You know, I could get you reported for stalking,” she said, drumming on the table with her pretty manicured nails, slowly, calculatingly. Her lowkey threat made the boy raise a brow and put down his phone on the table.

“Then why don’t you?” He wondered out loud like a challenge as he tilted his head. He leaned back in his seat, sliding his right hand into his pocket casually. Fingers touching metal, he contemplated.

The girl smiled at him like a predator and reached over the table, her index finger tapping his chin teasingly. Her touch was cold, it sent shivers down his spine just as much as the look in her dark eyes.

“Because you are pretty,” she said, sounding genuine and Taehyun furrowed his brows. He had never been called pretty, didn’t particularly want to be either but coming from someone who looked as beautiful as her, it was quite a compliment even if it was fake, just sweet words to get onto his good side or even just get some reaction from him. Though, it was certainly an interesting tactic to call guys who were acting suspiciously pretty. She didn’t seem afraid at all and that was what took the boy aback the most.

She giggled when he didn't answer, it was almost pure, childlike as if she had fun. She must have been used to making men breathless with just being. But there he was holding back because he didn't want to make a scene, to sink a dagger into her heart in the middle of a coffee shop and she knew that, that's why she was so reckless.

“Oh, you look surprised. Cat got your tongue? Didn’t expect somebody so pretty like myself? It’s alright, my father didn’t name me Ahreum for no reason,” she noted, her voice tingling gleefully like a chime of bells in the half-empty store, the shadows that the late night drew onto her figure dancing around her like butterfly wings. 

If Taehyun wanted to be honest, he actually didn't expect somebody so human. Some monsters wore human faces – vampires, sirens, shapeshifters – but there was always something off about them, something inhuman – like sharper teeth, glowing eyes, pointy ears – but she looked normal. She was generations old and yet she looked his age, her smile fresh but calculating, her skin immaculate and her eyes, they were the deepest of dark. She didn’t look like a monster. But Taehyun knew better than to trust looks. Especially alluring ones like hers.

“It doesn’t matter how pretty you are,” he said firmly. In the eyes of death, nothing so mortal and earthly mattered.

“Oh, so you admit that you find me pretty,” she smiled a sly smile, very much enjoying the situation as if that was the most important. “But you are lying. It does matter. People always act more generously towards those with a beautiful face no matter how rotten they are inside. Humans are so judgemental, you see, but they only look at the surface, the outside. The gold and glitter and beauty. Prove me wrong if you can.”

Of course, he couldn’t. But Taehyun wasn’t there to talk about philosophy and what it was like to be human. He was hunting down a monster, someone who killed not one but probably hundreds. Someone like the monster that had taken his family away from him. He was there to stop her, yet his hand was frozen over the pocket knife, watching each of her mesmerising moves like a man struck. Sure, he wasn’t used to turning creatures into dust and smoke in front of an audience but who knew when he would have a chance like this again? When would he find her by his own accord? Why did she even seek him out? To tell him he was pretty? It didn’t make any sense. Was she hoping he would give up on the hunt once seeing her just because she was pretty? He wasn’t that generous. Hence he couldn’t figure out her reason.

“What do you want?” So he asked, keeping his eyes on her, not letting any of her glamour cloud his judgement, not even the small, content smile in the corner of her lipstick-stained lips.

“Oh, so straightforward, so boring. I just want to have fun,” The girl sighed, wishful, before she resumed the drumming on the table, over his notes, her fingers slowly crawling over the back of his hand that rested over the wood. Her nails scratched his skin lightly but it burnt, the contact. The grip of Taehyun’s other hand tightened around his knife hidden under the table, in his pocket. She was either unaware or didn’t care. She smiled knowingly.

“A hunter, are you? It's been a while since I met one,” she commented, not waiting for his confirmation. She was talking lightly as if they were discussing the weather and not supernatural matters. Not death. “I don't like them around my prey, you see, your kind makes them anxious. But I do like some excitement. I will give you a clue about my next victim, how does that sound?”

Oh, now she sounded positively thrilled. Her eyes also glowed with something childlike and yet dark. Taehyun was both intrigued and disgusted by her idea of fun.

“It's all just a game for you?” He questioned, sickened and the monster pouted like a kid who couldn’t get the last candy.

"Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill. I have lived long enough, I deserve some fun," Ahreum said, nails digging sharper into the boy’s skin before she let go, her smile devilish like damnation.

"So is it still hunting season?" He asked and her lips twitched.

"It always is. Here’s the clue: I kept my special one for the full moon and you know the fox sister’s tale, right? Then you’ll know where to find me.” 

Her voice was haunting and with that, she was gone. Her musky, sweet perfume was the only thing she left behind and claw marks over Taehyun’s hand.

Like a stigma. Or a target mark.

Taehyun knew the tale of the fox sister but he knew many variations of it. There was no way he could tell which was the closest to the truth and how it could have made it easier for him to find her. She kept mentioning beauty, how much people cared about it and she only killed the rich, spending her free time in luxury. He knew there must have been a hint there, a clue to this game she was playing like a cat playing with the mice before eating.

“What did you say she said her name was?” Jungkook nudged him on the shoulder as he was dozing off while hovering over materials at their dining table which was used for investigations more often than to eat.

Living together made sense after they started hunting down monsters as a team. Taehyun didn’t have anybody left by the time the elder found him. They both came from hunter families, they had known each other since they were children. But Taehyun’s family wanted a normal life for him: normal school, normal friends, normal family activities instead of shooting practices. Look at how it turned out: blood on the table under the moonlight. He had been hot-headed and raging when Jungkook had found him and taken him in, becoming his only family. He had saved him from himself.

“She said her father had named her Ahreum because of her beauty,” he said, looking over his shoulder to see his hyung immersed in a book about Korean historical speculations. He had barely slept since his encounter with the girl from the day before, so he appreciated any help. He was determined to find her before the full moon. Before she would kill again.

“Here, look. Read this,” Jungkook passed the book over and pointed at a passage about the royal family in the 1500s.

Changdeokgung, the secondary royal palace of Joseon since King Taejong’s rule (1400–1418), was vacant over decades as Huwon – known as Secret Garden nowadays – was said to be a haunted place. According to the stories, King Myeongjong’s (1545–1567) beautiful daughter was locked away in one of its residents after the Crown Prince and his brothers had died unexpectedly, leaving the kingdom in aghast. Sources vary about the reason but during those decades the royal household suffered numerous losses in personnel, maids and guards as well, all of them bleeding out. Some suspected a disease that spread from person to person and the reason why the princess could survive was because she was alone. Other sources reported about animal attacks. During these uncertain times, a neighbouring kingdom asked her for the princess’ hand to join their forces but the prince had died on the wedding night. That was when the rumours about Princess Ahreum being the cause of it started. The people of the kingdom demanded her to be executed for sorcery, keeping her youth with others’ blood since she was said to have barely aged even after spending two decades in seclusion. Others believed she was cursed and blamed her for the Japanese invasions under the rule of her cousin, King Seonjo (1567–1608). During the military conflict in 1592, Huwon suffered serious damages by fire and Princess Ahreum was declared dead.

“Animal attacks, huh? And a never-ageing princess? Sound about right,” Taehyun hummed, thinking back on the fox sister’s tale: a man praying for a daughter, even if she was a fox, after three of his sons and in the end, his beautiful daughter killed them all except the eldest brother who managed to kill her with fire. And now, a few hours before moonrise, he knew where to look for her.

Huwon at night was hauntingly beautiful.

The royal garden was a popular tourist attraction, especially among couples due to its romantic scenery but the Palace and its garden were closed for the night, so Taehyun was alone after sneaking into one of the national treasures of his country. It was easier than he expected but he didn't want to get ahead of himself nor feel relief as he walked towards the Pavilion behind the Buyongji pond. He had been there before once, during a school trip about Korean heritage. He remembered playing hide and seek with his friends and in a way, this was the same game after all.

A sick version of it.

The garden was eerily quiet. Each of Taehyun's steps echoed off the trees and old buildings, no matter how careful he moved around. The rocks under his feet and the wind blowing in his face gave him away but there was no sign of the girl. Did he misunderstand her clue? Was she somewhere else or was she here, just hiding, waiting for him to find her, to play the game right?

Suddenly, a shadow moved in the dark. A laughter echoed all around him. He felt goosebumps form on his arm and he drew his dagger out, searching for the girl behind it all.

There she was: on the top of the stars, her silhouette unclear in the calm waters of the pond but her smile dangerous like always.

“Oh, someone’s smart,” she giggled at the compliment, twirling in her pretty white hanbok. Like this, with her midnight hair in waves all over her shoulders and the pearl colored dress sweeping the floor, she really did look like a princess. Beautiful like falling petals during the bloom of the cherry blossoms.

Taehyun expected her to have company. A naiv human on whom she could feed on, but she was all alone, no signs of any other living being around them: just her, him and–

“But… you brought a friend. Too bad. I thought it would be just us two,” the girl pouted, sounding genuinely disappointed. Then she moved so fast, Taehyun could barely follow it with his eyes, let alone stop her when she dragged Jungkook out of his observation place behind the Pavilion as if he was nothing but a ragdoll.

"Nobody taught you it's rude to spy on others?" She tsked and when Jungkook raised an arm to strike down on her with an iron arrow, she grabbed onto his wrist with one hand and his neck with the other. Then she simply broke the arrow in two, taking its pointy head and dove it to his chest.

It all happened too quickly, Taehyun was still running up the stairs when Jungkook's knees gave in and he fell on the ground, blood dripping from the wound on his chest to the dirty ground of the Garden that had seen so many ruthless rulers.

Ahreum chuckled again, her palm painted carmine from blood as she wiped it into her snow white dress, ruining it just how murder dirtied innocence. Taehyun didn't think; he acted on impulse and adrenaline as he ran up to her and pushed her against the stone wall, away from his hyung's struggling body with a knife against her throat threateningly.

"What do you want?" He asked, hoarsely, and she smiled a wicked smile that sent shivers down his spine as it reminded him more of a wolf's snarl than anything.

"You, pretty boy, I want to eat you all up," she said, giggling like a maniac and licking her already burgundy lips. Taehyun pushed the blade more into the soft skin of her neck but she didn't seem that affected as her blood-coated fingers toyed with his jawline.

"You are a monster," the boy spat, praying that his hyung could hold on for a bit more.

"Am I?" The fox princess tilted her head, thinking, her grip growing firmer. "I am what I was made to be. It's not like I ever had a choice. My father made a deal with the devil, so he had it coming. But me? If I am the punishment for his greed, why am I punished, too?"

Taehyun had no good answer for that. He never thought that these creatures had it in themselves to feel like they were being punished. To him, it seemed like their existence was the penalty for humanity’s avarice and he never chit-chatted more with any to think otherwise. The vampires, sirens and goblins he had met before were all more eager to kill him than to talk about their lives’ meaning and purpose with him.

“You always have a choice,” the hunter boy reminded her firmly.

To kill was always a choice, even if made under pressure and one had to be able to accept the consequences of their decisions. Yet, the princess didn’t seem to like his answer. Her nails turned into claws and harshly ripped the thin skin of his jaw as she pushed him away. The impact of it sent him to the ground and in a moment, she was crawling all over him, her pretty albeit stained hanbok spreading like a tainted halo around them. She held his wrists on the ground with an inhuman force, her animalistic features coming to surface.

“Should I tear the liver out of your friend’s body? Should I feed on it?” She hissed between her teeth and licked her lips as she glanced over at Jungkook’s unconscious body. “A hunter would make a delicious treat for my 1000th victim. I admit, I thought it would be you but I’m not picky.”

Oh. So he was supposed to be the special one, her next victim. So the clue wasn’t a clue at all, it was a trap and he walked right into it with his hyung following in suit. 

“Do you know the ancient rule, don’t you?” Ahreum spoke up in a conversational tone as if she hadn’t just threatened to kill the person who was the closest he had to a family. As if it didn’t matter to her. It probably didn’t. Not with her killing her own family. “My kind turns human after the 1000th human liver. I could finally be something I should have been to begin with. And yet, I’m curious: would you kill me? Even if I wasn’t a monster anymore but a human? For what? Killing your friend to become one? Can you really blame me for not wanting to be like this?”

Yes, Taehyun did hear the myth but he didn’t think it was true. He didn’t think monsters could turn human and even if they did, it wouldn’t overrule what they had done. She had still killed thousands of people for their livers and who knows how much more just out of spite.

“Even if you lose your fox-abilities, it doesn’t automatically make you human,” so he said, standing his ground, gritting his teeth, not caring about the blood dripping down his neck nor her hands smearing the dirt all over his skin.

“Tell me then, pretty boy, what makes a monster to begin with? That they have horns and fangs? Or that they kill?” The princess laughed, amused and wicked. “You act all so mighty but in reality, you are doing the same and you are not doing this for the world’s sake. You do this for yourself. For revenge. So selfish.”

Taehyun hissed at the pressure applied to his chest, at the claws digging into his bloodlines, at the words cutting in deep, hitting exactly where it hurt. He really had gotten back into the hunting business to get revenge on his family and he indeed had a personal vengeance against her kind but at least, he didn’t hurt innocent people.

“You are one to talk. You don’t even have a soul, nothing that could be saved,” he spat because it was clear from how she treated others, like they were dirt under the sole of her shoe. She was self-centred, she only cared about her rights and needs without a care of whom she had to trample over to get those. But there was almost more to meet the eye.

“That’s what you tell yourself to be able to sleep at night? That we don’t have a soul? What? Do you think we miraculously lose what makes us human the moment we become like this? Or you think we are born without a soul to begin with? And if we do, whose fault is that? It’s not like I asked to be like this. You do know my kind would die if we didn’t feed on humans, right? So what right do you have to judge me when humans kill just because they can and not for survival? At the end of the day, aren’t we all just animals in this kingdom?” She whispered with a smirk in the corner of her mouth.

Her perfect white teeth turned to pointy ones, four long canines as she bared them to him to prove a point. Taehyun pushed against her in the attempt to shove her down from him but she was too strong. No matter all those hours spent in the gym, the gumiho’s strength was supernatural and he knew that his only chance was to outsmart her but before he could have distracted her attention enough to free one of his hands, a sudden noise of pocket lighter clicking drew their attention.

"Oh look, he's still alive. A tenacious one, huh?" The girl looked up, the corners of her lips curling up in an impressed grimace.

Turning his head, Taehyun saw his hyung getting up from the ground, holding a hand over his bleeding wound and the lit lighter in the other. They both knew the story of the fox and the fire but watching the flame mirrored in Ahreum orbs, the young hunter wasn’t sure she was afraid at all. After all, somehow she survived the great fire of the Japanese destruction.

But then her eyes widened in surprise and Taehyun knew it was his moment. Without knowing what Jungkook was about to do, he used the girl’s distraction to yank his arms out of her hold and roll out from under her body, grabbing the knife he dropped from the floor. Just as he stumbled to his feet did he see that Jungkook had retrieved his crossbow and lit the next arrowhead on fire, then he took a shot. Ahreum had to jump out of the burning arrow’s way with a hiss. The metal head pierced into the Pavilion’s walls, the painted wood catching light like sugar that was caramelised over the heat.

After seeing his hyung wave at him to go, Taehyun followed the girl as she slipped inside the building. The old dusty smell and darkness of it reminded him of an attic of a home, of hide and seek games played by kids, but now with a knife in hand and a monster hiding, it wasn’t like a game anymore.

“I hate your kind,” Ahreum yelled at him from the shadows, her voice full of blame and hatred. “They had come like this, you know? They came and called me a witch; they wanted me to burn. They heard me scream and they laughed. Aren’t they monsters too then?”

The fox princess’ voice turned into sobs and the flames ate up the walls of the Pavilion and the moonlight shone through the blazing red of fire and the grey smoke. She coughed and tripped, breaking an expensive ancient vase into pieces as she was in hurry to find another escape. But Taehyun was faster in finding her in the middle of shattered ceramics, her hanbok blood red from the rising fire, its heat urging the boy to act too.

When he dove the knife into the gumiho’s heart, he didn’t feel anything. No regret, no guilt. She gasped, coughing up blood, crimson sliding down her pale neck from the corner of her mouth. The dark fluid spread all over her pretty white dress like a blooming red rose. But then Taehyun looked into her eyes, at the tears rolling down her cheeks and his hold on the knife loosened.

“Please, I don't want to die like this,” she pleaded, looking frightened with her big doe eyes, so unlike the sharp fox-like predator from before. She looked like daddy’s precious little princess and for a moment, he considered it all: whether she would have turned out the same if she wasn’t treated like a monster from the start, whether she was right about what made monsters…

Was he becoming a monster, too? The thought haunted him, but it was a mistake.

Using his hesitation to her advantage, the princess grabbed a sharp-edged broken ceramic piece from the floor and jabbed it into his abdomen, tearing skin right above his liver. His warm blood coated her fingers and she licked it with a wicked smile, amusement playing in the corner of her mouth even still.

“You humans… are the most monstrous of all,” she rasped as she reached for Taehyun’s hand over the knife’s handle, unhooking his fingers one by one. “But you know what? I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

With flames reaching high, just like almost half a millennium ago, Huwon was burning and a white fox disappeared into the woods like smoke in the night.

[sienna-cael2041]

[in progress] week 6 notes on everyone's wips

i don't know everyone's names so i'm doing numbers

focusing on human activity and noise in the environment, early morning traffic - footsteps, conversations, walking on the streets, rush hour, the trees and construction sites. soundscape - collage of the sounds of city life. sound: recording of people talking. sounds like it's on the metro platform. plans to develop it by going to more places and recording.

changing sounds of the opera house at Bennelong point the entire day - morning, afternoon, evening and night. calmness of the morning, liveliness of the evening - wanted to show the diversity of this public space. chose Bennelong point as it is a well known Sydney land mark and has a rich variety of sound. rhythmic clacking noises, people talking. whistling. plans to change location since the wind is strong. the clacking noise was an indigenous Australian performance. plans to make it go from morning to evening. maybe could use the rhythm and take it further in the wip. (tip: use effect called EQ to get rid of unwanted sound. parametric equaliser - left is low pitch, right is high pitch. wind can be removed by pulling the left side down. woah thats so cool) [note to self mess with EQ]

wants to record sounds in the sydney opera house and other popular tourist spots in sydney - plans to do it this week. an audio/sonic postcard

wants to record his dogs walking on the fallen leaves. dog eating, drinking. like a sound portrait of his dog maybe

wants to record her dog n.a. because i went to the bathroom . i think i missed like 3 people

chose park but wants it to be more complex. chose 3 times - morning, afternoon, night. birds chirping in the morning. the afternoon is very active. she didnt focus on the bird sound at first but when she listened to the recording she found the birds to be so special since we ignore it in our daily life. we talk about cars and machines but we ignore the birds. and its important to focus on the wildlife because we all coexist in the world. try finding a location with less cars and maybe wake up at 6am . try eq. wait i feel bad for not commenting

woah it's loud. sounds like shuffling near a road. quiet and then sudden increase in sound. recording of plane taking off, and walking on balcony. used fading in and out. traffic - recording the car stopping at waiting for the red light. plans to mute the sound in between the car stopping and starting to show the passing of time. could use panning (travel from the left ear to the right ear) to show the movement. stereo sound. focusing on different textures and times of sound.

wants to record the sound of water, going to the seaside to record but made a recording in the sink at home. likes the texture of wet sounds. maybe record different water sources - borrowed the hydrophone. water boiling - ice, (don't put hydrophone in boiling water though). i dont why i didn't put up my hand but she could go to the same place before and after it rains

doesn't have a specific idea but wants to record interesting sounds she hears. the sounds of waves and seagulls, instructor at golf course, loud whacking noise, cockatoos eating, lawnmower, busker playing violin, playing a song she requested. chose cheryl leonard's work from the listening list. i liked the ambience of it and i liked the inclusion of the street music. i think a bit of music fading in and out is nice. bernie krause

alison: wants to record sounds in the forest, wants to make the audience feel as if they are in the audience through her work. wind, stream, birds. inspired by bernie krause who records the sounds of nature. archival (note to self use this word). the changes between summer and winter. geophony, biolophony and anthrogony. the immersive sounds of nature - combining humans and nature which connects the audience with the environment. wip could maybe use the EQ to help get rid of wind rumbling. maybe put microphone in bag or the hollow of a tree. krause's work had a bit of music concrete. is that what its called??

daniel: layering of whistling, water dripping. i like how it fades out and transitions to another noise but the whistle is a constant ties it together. i like the rhythm a lot and the dripping tickles your ears. tapping the wood fish with the running water.

inspired by insomnia - trying to create a sense of anxiety and unease. what you're feeling and thinking when you're unable to sleep. music concrete - rhythm. buttons, dripping tap. a drill maybe. pedestrian crossing beeping.

creating a sense of place by combining nature and technology. loud rumbling. ambient noises. recorded outside and added echoing effects. sounded like a big reverberant space

MY PRESENTATION. Guys it was so awkward. And no one had anything to say but that's to be expected. also awkward because i didn't even know joyce was gone but the last time i saw her she told me that spraining my ankle is no excuse to not come to uni which was soo awkward.

recording of being near the sea and editing it to become more interesting. burying the hydrophone in the sand maybe

[kaeddehara]

xiao x afab!reader

[ warnings : nsfw themes, cussing, car sex, mentions or being drunk/alcohol consumption, xiao has piercings, mentions of reader wearing a dress/skirt, clothed sex ]

“come on, let’s get going”

you heard xiaos gruff voice call for you. standing under the singular light on the front porch. loud music vibrating through the house.

you could still hear it even with the harsh rain coming down. xiao stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you. you had his jacket on your shoulders, already getting the feeling of catching a cold. nodding at him and beginning to walk down the slippery stairs to him.

“let’s get you home, you’re not looking too good”

blunt and honest as always.

he was probably right.

you didn’t look too good.

your face was hot but body felt cold. humming in response and just wanting to be in the warmth of his car you hurried as best as you could over to it.

with the rain and darkness of the night, it did make it a bit difficult. xiao unlocked the door with his keys which he shoved back into his pocket. not even bothering to cover up himself from getting wet or cold.

you got into the passangers seat slowly mostly from your drunkenness but also with how wet it was.

the whole time xiao watched you, making sure you got inside safely. closing the door only to hear that nice silence.

the rain poured onto the windows creating some soothing white noise. before you could relax too much, you heard the main door open, xiao jumping into the seat and closing the door quickly.

he let out a big sigh and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. turning on the car and hearing the engine rev up. the warm air from the vents hitting your cold body.

xiao noticing how you relaxed at the feeling. “better?” he asked you, gaze still laying on you.

you nodded not returning the gaze back by instead leaning back into the seat.

xiao knew you were drunk, he was too.

although he did hold his weight better, out of the two of you, he was the better option for driving.

starting to back out onto the wet night street. he didn’t even bother to turn to radio on, he knew you were tired. but, maybe xiao was mistaken.

when you got drunk, the only thing that came over you was a dizzy, dreary warmth. as your mind started to drift off, you felt something on you. immediately turning your gaze to the feeling only to see xiaos hand on your thigh. even just the sight of that made your heart pump faster. his long, slender fingers grazing over the delicate skin.

gazing back at xiao who paid no mind and continued driving. feeling his hand move occasionally up and down, almost like in a stroking motion.

his touch was driving your mind wild.

“xiao..”

his name slipped from your lips quietly.

xiao was attentive and heard you call for him.

“what is it?”

he asked, still focused on the road. “are you hungry?” he asked you again almost in a worried tone.

he knows that you didn’t eat much at the party so maybe food was what you desired.

“no i just…”

you stoped your sentence midway as xiao stoped at a red light.

the turn signal ticking loudly as you both fell silent.

“go on, tell me” he motioned for you to finish.

“it’s nothing” you mumbled back.

xiao let out a huff. you felt bad for bothering him while driving but only did it for the sake of your safety. normally, xiao was a great driver. but with the conditions of the weather and his drunken state, he wasn’t at his best. swerving little by little off the road before you had to get his attention.

“xiao!” you called out when he got too close to the edge

“shit sorry..” he grumbled underneath is breath.

“maybe it would be best to pull over..” you recommended even though it would probably just irritate him further. a loud sigh came from him as his blinker ticked loudly. not responding with his words and instead, turning with caution. you remembered your pathway home by heart and by the looks of the turns you were taking, he definitely wasn’t on the track home. instead you were met with a gravel like road and long tall trees surrounding the vehicle. worried, you gazed towards him. he took a deep breath in hopes of calming himself. he knew his driving was poor and that’s the reason you recommended him to it anyways. he was worried for your safety in fact.

you knew the pathway home by heart and knew xiao was not on the right track.

xiao began to become annoyed. mostly with himself but the alcohol in his system proved otherwise. still, you remained silence. he didn’t want to be rude to you since he knew it hurt your feelings when he was so upfront.

he let out a heave and put his hand that was on your thigh on the steering wheel.

“alright i think i’m fine now, sorry about holding us-“

he cut himself off as your hand gripped his wrist. gasping shortly after you gripped his wrist. you we so close to him. well, as close as you could be two seats apart. looking up at your boyfriend who looked bewildered.

his eyes were so tempting. even in the dark car in the woods. those gorgeous amber eyes you couldn’t look away from.

“what are you hm-“ you cut him off with a kiss. not knowing what even came over you to do that to him. you just couldn’t stand to hear him talk anymore. such a sloppy kiss it was. one that got his breath caught in his throat and that was timed badly. only lasting a few seconds at most before pulling away. xiao coughed, catching his breath.

“you’re not gonna make this easy huh?”

he questioned you. the rain began to make the windows fog up as more of it came down. the only sound from keeping the two of you in complete silence. grabbing his hand that was previously on your thigh and placing it on your cheek. seeing xiao with a almost disgusted look on his face. and yet, he didn’t take his hand off your face.

“please xiao…”

xiao was at a loss for words.

he didn’t understand why you were doing this to him right now. why not just wait till we get home. but at the same time, something clicked in his mind. looking back into those doe eyes you used on him as he searched for any kind of joking behind them. having his jacket over your arms and shoulders that slightly fell off. looking down at his fingers that we’re on your face. kissing the pad of his thumb softly.

“hm, you always know exactly what you want”

he commented before pushing his seat back. giving you room to move more. you crawled into his lap almost immediately. kissing at his jawline and neck. xiao was so surprised and yet didn’t push you away. he accepted your touch and wanted more of it quite honestly. your hips grinded into his subconsciously as you rolled them at a steady pace. leaning down close to his ear. whispering, “i’ve been wanting your attention all night” leaving a hot kiss on the edge of it leaving xiao is disbelief. he let out a quiet “hmph” before replying back.

“all you had to do was ask, now you got us both worked up”

his tone wasn’t teasing nor angry more just informative. you put your hand to your chin looking down and thinking about xiaos words. he was right…just talking about such things is so awkward. looking back up at his slightly flushed face, seeing the tips of his ears red. you leaned back close to him, putting your hands on his chest. you surprised him every second.

“just let me, have this moment with you…” you concluded, leaving a hot kiss on his lips. this time, xiao caught up quickly, kissing you back with ease. letting you melt ontop of him, hands slipping to your waist. all moving so quickly yet slowly. maybe his mind was moving slowly and you were going too fast to handle at the moment. xiao hearing you whimper and pant against his lips, even with the scent of alcohol, he loved it.

arching your back into his touch, the rain only got worse but the air in the warm car was only getting hotter. giving xiao one last kiss before pulling away. noticing even in the dark car how his lips turned a bright pink from all the kisses. so cute. trailing your hand down his thin waist down to his loose pants.

almost smirking fully at his bulge he’d grown so quickly. he took quick notice of this though and made sure to put you in your place. slipping a hand, particularly 2 of his fingers against your crotch. that short skirt/dress you wore gave him such easy access. you gasped at the touch.

xiao was holding you back from really giving you want you wanted. he just wanted to please you.

gently teasing his fingers around your panties not touching any where specific, just getting you flustered. you hands no longer grabbed at his pants and instead reached for stability on his thighs. pulling his hands out from under the skirt and holding you steady on his lap. moving both of you to a much more comfortable position in the backseat.

he pushed the chair back in its normal place, now he was seated on the spacious back seat with you right on top. “xiao stop holding me back” you complained reaching again for his pants. only this time, he didn’t stop you by grabbing your hand or touching your body. he let you have your way.

“who said i was holding you back?” although his tone was serious, you knew he was mocking you. scoffing at his remark before waisting no time getting exactly what you desired. unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. you looked so focused and xiao loved seeing that. watching your expression change and he didn’t even feel you remove the last layer of clothing. it wasn’t until he felt your warm hand on his cock that his eyes snapped down. your pretty fingers wrapped around his thick shaft. the sight filled him with a sense of adrenaline. that was what was keeping both of you aware and not getting lost in all the alcohol you both drank.

giving the tip a squeeze, feeling the metal piercing cold against your finger tips. gently stroking him up and down. xiao held back his embarrassing whines as you did so. his hand lazily laying on your thigh. your weight shifted forward so you took the chance to catch him in a sweet kiss. making out while your hand was wrapped around your boyfriend. only making the air feel even thicker and heavier with lust.

he was beginning to feel light headed from it all. just the sounds of rain hitting the window and your lips filled the car. catching your breath as did xiao once your session ended. looking back down at his fully erect cock, letting go and watching it bob and hit against his lower abdomen.

“we shouldn’t waste much time, the rain is worsening” even if it wasn’t the most romantic thing he couldn’t said, he was right.

pulling up the end of you dress and ride up on your ass, allowing xiao to see your panties. the hand he had laid on your thigh now messing with the thin string. if anything ever drove xiao crazy it was your scent. you smelled so good to him even when you smelled of alcohol.

he pushed some of the fabric of your dress away from your thighs so he could look at you lower stomach and thighs fully. you looked so beautiful. your hands on his lower stomach, breathing heavily with your half lidded eyes. xiao let out a soft barley even audible laugh. lifting the strings of your panties up before letting it snap back in place on your waist. he finally quit teasing you and let two of his fingers in between your plush thighs. rubbing you through that soaked, thin fabric. letting out a soft moan as he toyed with you.

he fed off your reactions letting him to know what choice he should make next to please you. letting those two fingers slide just a little bit to the edge of your panties. pushing them to the side so they could no longer cover you up. xiao ran his finger along your pussy, making you shudder in reaction. adding the second finger and finding your clit. he knew you were already getting impatient but he had to finish prepping you. gently rubbing circles around your clit made your sigh and moan with delight. you shuddered and let your head drop close to him chest but xiao did not waver. he was too busy loving all your sweet little reactions, loving both the delicate sounds that came out of your mouth.

both your hearts beating so fast.

xiao kept up the slow pace on your clit which made your grip his still clothed stomach. “xiao please- i need you now..” you whimpered out meekly. xiao was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even hear you. instead, lining his two fingers up and making you sit down on them, slowly. a choked moan came from your throat. xiao didn’t move though, not for a little bit.

you were getting so impatient. wasn’t he the one that just said he wanted to hurry things up! but your question was soon answered as he began to finger you at a slow pace. you were so over his teasing and started to ride his fingers. even if it made you look pathetic and needy, you didn’t care. xiao felt the constant warmth of you around his fingers over and over again. it was a little cute to him how needy you were, begging without words. after a few more seconds, xiao put his other hand to your waist, slowly you a bit.

“that’s enough you’re more than ready” xiao gruffly stated. nodding a bit as xiao took his slick covered fingers out of you. he looked at them, all wet and soiled before looking at your face. god even your face looked needy. without hesitation, he shoved the fingers into your mouth, making you choke for a brief moment before sucking them clean. “clean up the mess you made” and you followed. making sure to lap up all your mess. doing exactly as xiao instructed. once you’d finished, he pulled his fingers back out. all clean without being tainted whatsoever.

now came the thing you’d both desired.

your eyes turned back to in between xiaos legs. his pretty cock sitting up so perfectly for you to ride. a small smile completely filled by lust made its way onto your face. xiao assisted you by holding you up a little by your hips. you pushed your chest against his looking back at his lap. you hands also on his shoulders for stability. his hand at the base of his cock, aligning with you. finally feeling your warmth against his skin made him shudder.

being so close to him it was noticeable how xiao was hiding some of his reactions to keep his stoic front. feeling him gently slip into you, making your body shudder. the cold metal piercing at his tip rubbing against your hot walls.

xiao held you close, wanting to make sure nothing felt off or hurt you. letting out a long sigh when you bottomed him out. the stretch hurt a little bit but sitting right on top of his cock was hitting right against your sweet spot. xiao held your waist to keep you balanced. he wanted this to all be about you not even worrying about his own desires and wants. just you.

the fact that you had his jacket on as well just made that feeling in his lower stomach swell up even more. watching you gently lift your hips only to fall right after. the sound of skin slapping filled the stuffy car.

both of you being drunk in a car did make for some interesting stuff.

xiao was biting his lip, trying not to bite your soft neck. but feeling your tight wet pussy around him filled him with a surge. he pulled you against his chest gruffly, tired of the slow pacing of everything. “xiao wait-“ was all that he heard before thrusting his hips up into your.

a loud gasp and moan followed after right next to his ear. your head on his shoulder, bouncing with the rhythm of his thrusts. sucking and biting your neck for good measure making sure you were marked by him. he held your hips tightly, almost to the point of it hurting. your heavy breathing and heaving chest only added to the overall experience. his amber eyes tilted up to look up at your face. from time to time, you’d peer down at him but for most of it you were too consumed with pleasure to even look him in the eye.

he found it quite amusing. starting to get a bit more bold, his hands that previously guided your hips were now pinching at your senstive nipples. only adding to the number of sounds present in the car. his mouth was busy sucking mark after mark into your soft neck and chest.

“xiao…too much-!”

you cried for him. but he didn’t care. do you really think xiao would go out of his way to make you feel good only for you to beg him to stop?

with that thought in his mind, he just about chuckled to himself. how pathetic you are. getting both of you worked up and using your sweet body to tempt him. you really were a needy little thing.

“ha..ha…oh fuck…xiao…”

your little pitiful whines would ring through his ears. from time to time he’d move his hands back to your waist to take control over your hips pace. hearing you choke out a moan as he did so. feeling the slick of both your bodies come together. his cold metal piercing rubbing harshly up against you. while it would make a normal man cum in seconds, xiao was different. more stamina was a big obstacle you faced with him. your weak hands stabilized yourself on his thighs. taking some of the control back for yourself and slamming your hips down. catching him off guard as his was catching his breath from sucking marks into your skin.

he let out a struggled grunt from the unexpected impact of your hips. xiao is practically growling from the pleasure.

“you’re so good..” he grunted into your ear.

“please xiao…’need you…” you whimpered and called out for him.

immediately after hearing that xiao grabbed the fat on your ass as it was bouncing on his cock. “ah…so impatient” you whined against his grip but he didn’t budge. instead, he used you for more leverage. using your ass and thrust into you harder. the slapping of your skin together was so loud it was practically the only thing be heard at that point. your eyes shot open as your breathing became even harder. things were so heated. you tried to hide your cries into xiaos firm chest to save yourself the embarrassment. finally he released his grip on your ass and let you finish the job.

“oh that’s it, ride me like the good slut you are”

xiao taunted, his voice low like a growl. the cord that was keeping you from milking xiao finally cut. gripping his shoulders, you slammed yourself up and down repeatedly making xiao arch his back in surprise. eyes blown wide open from the sudden gruffness you brought. even letting feral growls and grunts from his lips.

“you gonna cum huh?”

“yes please xiao!”

“cum for me”

sweat trickled down your forehead as he aided you with his thrusts as well. making your brain mush and eyes roll back. one last call of his name and you came. shuttering harshly as xiao watched in awe. he pushed some hair out of your face. hearing your heaving against his collarbone. both of you exhausted and filthy. you wrapped your arms around his neck lazily

“thank you, xiao” but you just looked too cute in his jacket he almost wanted to fuck you again here and there. “no need for thanks” he slyly whispered before kissing you cheek.

“but, you forgot one thing”

your heart dropped a little at the words. what did he mean?

“forgot what xiao? we better get home it’s late-“ you began to drift off his cock before he gripped your waist.

“you forgot to make me cum” his lips lingered over your ear feeling that smirk against your skin. doe-eyed and pathetically you pulled him closer to you.

“better get to work, it might take a while”

[bump1nthen1ght]

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your  fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

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

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add  cat food to your grocery list.

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

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check  on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed  a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

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

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.  

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

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

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat.  Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

[tootiredmotel]

Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”