#and then i applied for a gallery show. Got in. dropped off my work

[wuntrum]

saying this in a normal and not serious way. but i think my local library has a vendetta against me (in any context outside of being a patron)

[sabraeal]

Tenderness Like a Bruise, Chapter 2

[Read on AO3]

Took a small break from frantic bingo writing to make this for @puffdragongirl‘s birthday! Robin asked for MORE OD ANA, and since I had always meant to continue with this fic...I was happy to tack another chapter on!

The petal and wings of Wisteria may burst across this man’s throat, but he’s no royal messenger Od Ana’s ever seen. Too young, for one; his pale hair fluffs out from his scalp like a chick’s feathers, kind that shouldn’t be wandering so far out from under their mother’s nethers. His daemon’s been ridden hard too, her flanks heaving the way an experienced rider would never allow. 

Still, she’s got enough spirit in her to give Od Ana one of those wall-eyed stares, the kind that shows white all around. That’s what they get, having their reputation precede them like it does. The prince’s messenger and his witch daemon. Sometimes he’s got her so far away you can’t even see her. Can’t trust a man like that. 

They’re lucky that daemon doesn’t take more after a horse and balk for the shock of it.

Ah, but whatever she thinks of its bearer, the bad news is stamped with the royal seal all the same. “There’s the message. From the prince himself!”

There’s a certain amount of pomp to these things; the messenger holds it out, a little square that can’t have much more than a handful of lines scrawled on it, and bows like it’s some lordly edict. And for all that, Obi sits back in his hips and takes it, opening it with little more than a flick of his wrist.

There’s a trick to it, of course: apply the correct amount of force at the right angle and wax sheers from the sheet without even clipping the Wisteria wings. But messenger boy doesn’t know it; he just stands there gawping like he just fell off the wagon, impressed by nothing more than a party trick. Od Ana hopes for his sake he learns to hide it better. There’s plenty of thorns in Wistal’s garden that would enjoy having a bumpkin in their pocket. The king, for starters.

“Ah, but also...Sir Obi...on my way here...”

Od Ana glances up, claws flexing over collarbone, and, ah, she’s seen that wide-eyed gaze before, that starry shine. She may have no name to put to a face for him, but it looks like whatever reputation has wended its way back to Wistal has more in common with Hiro’s hero worship than city folk superstition.

The messenger’s reedy voice drops to a whisper. “I heard news about the string of attacks on noblemen.”

Obi glances up, the bristle of his hair brushing her feathers. “Oh yeah? A new development?”

“Well...” Under Obi’s direct attention, the boy shies the way young men do at a pretty girl’s doorstep. “They say that the lead suspect is, ah...”

Hisame Lugis. The name springs to her beak on reflex, instinct. She’s only seen the man once, malingering at the edges of a ballroom, but she’s heard enough about that little ladder-climber to know he’s the sort that wouldn’t be shy sharing a few knives to the back among friends. Especially if those lucky pals were thinking about putting their grubby paws on the same heiress of Seiran.

“...Sir Mitsuhide Lowen.”

The papers flutter to the cobbles, Obi’s hands boneless above them. “What?”

Obi might have a memory like a steel trap, but between the two of them, it’s Od Ana who reads faster. She hunches over his shoulder, skimming the prince’s sloping script, and still, she can’t put it all together, can’t make it make sense. The lords, the murders, Sereg, Mitsuhide. Maybe from a distance the edges blur into a big picture, like one of those fancy paintings in Wistal’s galleries, but from here, on the ground, she can’t see it. Can’t see how anyone would think a man like Mitsuhide Lowen would send another man to do his dirty work. Dust, that he’d have dirty work to begin with.

She’s got a hundred thoughts buzzing in her head, each more nasty than the last, but Obi doesn’t say a word, doesn’t do anything but lean over the stone and stare out over the plaza. Shirayuki’s down there right now, with Ryuu too, and neither of them know, neither of them could even suspect...

Her beak clicks, annoyance biting at her like mites. “You aren’t actually thinking of going.”

It’s not a question, it’s a hope. A blind one, flung out into the wind as an attempt to slow their descent. Because she already knows the answer: he is. And the longer he says silent, the more sure she becomes.

“Don’t.” It’s not in her to plead. Birds don’t have knees, she’d always say-- not where Shirayuki hear-- but, oh, Obi has enough for them both. What’d be nice is if he could stop getting on them. “Zen hasn’t even asked for you.”

“He has.” The words roll off his lips just like that first step he took in the forest. Playful, testing the edge of his limits, flirting with the promise of pain. The next one will be worse, she knows, and the next, all the way up to when it suddenly isn’t. To when it’s all gone. “There’s no other reason for Master to send another guard up here.”

Not unless he’s already expecting Obi to come sit at his heel. That’s how these Wisterias work, of course: everything written between the lines. Obi wouldn’t be sagging underneath his sir if he wasn’t fluent in it. If they both weren’t.

Doesn’t mean she has to like it.

“We have something good here.” And she’s not ready for that sting again, for the burning in her chest as another bond breaks, left to die somewhere out in snow. “Something real. There’s no reason to give that up to--”

“They need us.” One corner of his mouth lifts, helpless. “And if we turn our back on them now, on Mister...”

His shoulder lifts, and oh, she knows that hopeless look all too well. If we don’t go, his smile says, then we aren’t who she thinks we are.

The worst part is: he’s right.

“Shirayuki,” Suzu observes, far too mild. “Your flask is going to boil over.”

“What? Oh!” With a blink, the apparatus comes into focus, and ah, yes, that is too rigorous a roil when she’s looking for something just a hair above a simmer. “Ah, thank you.”

His shoulders shrug the way a hanger might, all wires and sharp edges, coat surviving through sheer hardiness of the fur. “Don’t mention it.”

And just like that, he walks away. No, ‘gee, Shirayuki, what’s got you so distracted?‘ or ‘is there something on your mind?’ Hermia gives a sympathetic blink,  but she doesn’t so much as croak to slow him down either, just sits on his shoulder like a moss does on a log while he wends around the lab, aimless.

Shirayuki sighs, turning the valve on her burner until the flame flickers at a much cheerier orange. Fiddles with the legs on her alembic’s stands for good measure too; anything to keep her mind from drifting back out to the market, to the stairs she’d watched for nearly half an hour before Suzu came to distract her with work. His work, specifically, but it had been better than sitting on cold stone and wondering.

“Worrying,” Perkunas hums, paws catching her around the ankle. “You’d been worrying. Like you are now.”

“I’m not,” she snips, because she isn’t, not at all. It’s just that Obi and Od Ana exchanged one of those glances of theirs before they left, the kind that came just before a blizzard blew down from the mountains, or before adopted brothers climbed up a balcony to steal her away to the mountains. The kind that said trouble was coming, and they’d have to put themselves right in its path.

Not that she’s been turning that over in her head all afternoon. She hasn’t. It’s just been there, tugging at her thoughts the same way Perkunas tugs at her patience, siphoning off gulps of her attention until--

Well, until things boil over. Which she’s half tempted to do as well, if Perkunas can’t leave her hem alone. “Oh, honestly,” she huffs, ducking down to glower at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be the wise one?”

He only stares back, all glossy eyes and innocence, as if one of his claws weren’t already caught around a stitch. If only she were Od Ana, she could click her beak right at him and let him know just how close he’s coming to her limit, and--

The lab door clanks against the shelves, her only warning before an all-too familiar voice calls out, “My Lady!”

It’s impossible to tell who cries “Obi!” first, but it’s Perkunas who trundles down the stairs so quick it yanks at their tether, hard enough that she hits a hip against the table trying to follow. She hobbles over to the top of the staircase just in time for his head to butt into Obi’s shin, and oh, she feels that all the way back in her mouth, molars jittering together with every descending step.

The hand that scritches behind Perkunas’s round little ears is thoughtless, a habit, but when Obi stops in front of her, smile stitched poorly into place, the space he leaves is purposeful. For a moment, she wishes he might reach for her, might catch her elbow in a palm, but instead he turns to a spooked Suzu and lilts, “Sorry about that. Mind if I whisk her away for a minute?”

“Uh?” Suzu glances between them, wide-eyed. “Go ahead.”

Hermia ruffles her feathers, all mouth when she adds, “Doubt we could stop you.”

It’s Od Ana’s place to click her beak, to drawl a clear, you got that right, but--

But she’s not here. And that, more than anything, makes her breath catch, makes her practically gasp out, “Lead the way.”

It’s strange to see Obi how the guards must, his back to the pillar and arms folded, all his usual warmth filed away for professionalism. Perkunas scampers after him, parking his round bottom right over one of his boots, and-- and it’s the sort of thing that might make her laugh, if he could meet her eyes.

“According to the messenger--” Obi’s voice echoes in the empty hall, a low, rasping thing made for grim conversations and even grimmer secrets “--the royal guard is sending a messenger to Sereg to basically put Mitsuhide under arrest.”

“That’s...” Her tongue plumbs the cavern of her mouth, suddenly strange with unfamiliar words. “That’s absurd. H-how? Why?”

One of his shoulders shrugs, the lazy sort he used to do back when he spent more time hanging down from trees than with his feet on the ground. From when she used to wonder if he had a daemon at all. “The decision is based on the testimony of this knight, Taws.”

And who is he? she wants to ask. How is his word worth so much more than a man like Mitsuhide’s?

All she manages is a strangled, “Mm.” Partially from the anger constricting her throat, and partially--

Ah, well, it’s distracting for Perkunas to paw at him like that, hopping around and bapping at his waist, enough that the wool scratches at her own hands. And when Obi bends down, scooping him up...

“Master didn’t mention any of it in his letter,” he grunts, arranging the chubby body over his shoulder. Perkunas trills, the round dome of his head bonking into Obi’s jaw once, twice, before he figures out how to fit beneath it, like a child who had long outgrown a lap but is loath to admit it. “So I guess he probably hasn’t heard. Yet.”

Shirayuki smooths a palm over her waist; it does nothing for the phantom press there, nor the one just behind her thigh, but, well, it’s hardly unpleasant. “Ah...”

His gaze meets hers over Perkunas’ head, and oh, it would be nice if she could fit as neatly, if only so she might be held when he says, “I’d better look into it.”

Perkunas grunts, annoyed. “Why?”

Obi’s mouth pulls thin. “Because I know for a fact what kind of person Mitsuhide is.”

That steadies her, makes her knees feel more solid than commissary jelly. “Yeah,” she breathes, giving her head a stiff nod. “So do I.”

“What about us?” Perkunas whines, wiggling in his arms. “Do you think they might come after us?”

Obi’s grip stiffens, eyes pulsing wide.

“I won’t let that happen,” he promises, pulling Perkunas closer. He gets another head butt for his troubles. “You just stay here in Lilias, the both of you.”

“But--”

“Okay.” It’s a betrayed look her daemon turns to her, his clownish face rumpled in a grimace, but she just stares at him, serious. “We’ll stay put, if that’s what will help.”

Obi lets out a sigh, his whole body slumping down the pillar in relief, Perkunas cradled tight against his chest. “Yeah, it sure will.”

His head lifts, and Perkunas wiggles again, squirming until his back half plops on the the ground, front paws still clinging to Obi’s shoulders. “Anyway, you little sausage,” he laughs, scrubbing him behind the ears. “If they were gonna threaten Master through you, it wouldn’t make sense to go round about it like this. No--” his brows tilt, thoughtful “--they’re after him and the aides. I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t like it.” It’s so easy for Perkunas to say those things, to play the petulant child when he’s all clumsy cuddles and funny faces. If she tried-- well, there’s a reason she doesn’t. “Couldn’t you just tell them...?”

“Nah, they’ve got enough on their plate. This is my job.” Obi presses his head to his, serious as he says, “So I gotta do it.”

Perkunas sits back, arms hanging sulkily over his belly. “All right,” he whuffs, put out. “If you gotta.”

“That’s the thing,” Obi says, smile too tight. “I really, really do.”

It’s easy to keep her head when it’s all just...logistics. Shikito still has to arrive from Wistal, and Obi has a handful of leads he can chase all from the leisure of his desk. Permissions to seek as well, not the least from Makiri, who won’t be happy to see one of his most experienced guards snatched out from under him right before inspections. The more she doesn’t think about dates or times, the further it seems, like that lunch she keeps promising Izuru or Suzu’s thesis defense.

But when he leaves her in that hall by herself, begging off to go send off a few notes before dinner, it’s--

It’s real. Too real. And much, much too close.

There’s a fluttering by the window, a golden shape taking form on the sill, and all it has to say is, “Shirayuki,” and--

And that’s enough. Her eyes blur, and with a single step she buries her face into Od Ana’s breast.

“I’m not crying,” she tells her, because she can’t be if feathers catch the tears before they ever fall. “It will all be fine. I know it will be.”

“Of course,” Od Ana agrees, beak nuzzling at her hair. “It can’t be anything else.”

And oh, how nice that would be, if only either of them believed it.

[doom-nerdo-666]

I said it before it'd be cool if Crash from Q3 had her own expansion/campaign as a modern Doom entry.

Just imagine her going through a journey like Doomguy did where she goes to the modern Doom universe and she gets her own set of weapons with their own weapon mods, her inventory items, movement/agility related abilities, power ups, even face different kinds of demons, bosses and level design challenges.

Maybe even her own Praetor suit even if she's still not in the same level as the Slayer.

Like an expansion with more content than TAG and almost like a "smaller" game (Maybe similar to Old Blood for Wolfenstein TNO).

And another excuse to add more new ideas to the Slayer games' formula.

And it got me thinking: She'd be from the same universe as the classic Doomguy.

So think of that, then also how the D64 re-release had new levels to adhere to the new lore.

Imagine if id made a "prequel" for Crash to tie into her Slayer game, by making it a classic Doom episode (Essentially, another official wad like Final Doom, NRFTL etc).

It could raise a lot of questions:

Custom HUD face: Would they give her a face or would she still use a helmet with a screen static effect?

Besides changing the hands to resemble hers instead of Doomguy, what else would the weapon sprites look like.

Would there be new MIDI tracks and textures for walls, flats and skies?

Would there be new enemies, even if tied to some limitations?

I can imagine some like a Hellhound that's just a smaller Pinky with less health and more speed or a Gargoyle that's just a mix of an Imp and Caco.

And even a "Plasma rifle zombie" but not sure if even Dehacked allows a new enemy to drop a different kind of gun besides the base Zombiemen.

Guess it depends on the most basic ideas for demons that existed in both Doom and fanmade content, like general ideas anyone could think of..

(Or even "backporting" enemies from later games into classic Doom but it'd probably work best with only some unless they made an official thing using GZDoom or a different engine for a "retro boomer shooter" type of project; And even what a certain demon would look like under a different art style etc)

Player sprites are another thing too, specially how you view them besides co-op/DM or ripping sprites from the fame. I always thought it'd be cool if a Doom game had a "gallery mode" to preserve concept art and even show off obscure/hidden details in some sprites or just off anything just to please the OCD part of my brain.

Either way, not only would Crash get her own classic Doom adventure, another thing is how it's available.

Besides the Unity port, imagine if Crash's campaign also had a HUB area like Fortress of Doom and she had her own computer she could play her megawad/TC in.

And if Doomguy had to type FLYNNTAGGART, i guess Crash would type ARLENESANDERS (But if id ever does this port idea again, i'd suggest/like to see STANBLAZKOWICZ and KIRAMORGAN next time).

And because Doomguy has access to his classic skin, imagine Crash also having an alt skin based off a classic female UAC armor (As in, her main skin being something Sentinel/Praetor related).

And of course, a Q3A inspired skin like QC has for Doomguy.

Basically, a set of ideas to establish her role in the Doom universe they present.

Maybe the same can apply to Phobos.

EDIT: I think i forgot the idea of her having her own toy pickup.

Imagine a Mighty Crash if you will.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 9

First

Previous

It was kind of weird how quickly they got acclimated to civilian life.

Sure, Marinette often came out of the day with way too much energy, but they could burn off most of it by sparring. A ten to twenty minute session a day (excluding warm ups and cool downs, which added another thirty minutes or so) was enough to maintain their physiques and get rid of the uncomfortable energy that came with the sudden loss of constant danger in their lives.

(Not that this Gotham wasn’t dangerous, but it was… markedly less so. The Rogues Gallery didn’t exist in this world, what with Batman not existing, so the only thing that they really had to fear was mob activities and the occasional mugging. As long as they kept their noses clean and never stopped to tell a person the time, there was no reason for them to be scared.)

Other than that… it was almost too easy to get used to the new life that they lived.

Marinette woke up first in the mornings for work and would take care of Damian while she got ready. Tim had baby duty for the nine hours a day she was at work and commuting, so it was the least she could do.

And, really, he wasn’t all that difficult now that she was starting to get the hang of the whole baby thing.

Damian was trying to mimic her -- anticipatory socialization, she was pretty sure it was called (Or was it imprinting? Observational learning? Damn it, her psych major was not coming through for her right then). She found it cute and it was completely normal so she was perfectly fine encouraging it: she had gotten him mini versions of all of her makeup brushes.

One time, though, this backfired on her: he had dipped one of the cheap makeup brushes she’d gotten him into her makeup when she wasn’t looking and applied it to his face.

Marinette glanced down -- he had been quiet for too long, never a good thing -- and gasped. “Dami, you can’t whitewash yourself!”

Damian looked up at her, eyes wide with confusion.

She tried not to pout because he might take it wrong. Why must her best jokes always come to her when no one was around to hear?

“Don’t touch the powder stuff, please. It's not for babies, it's for grown ups.”

Damian frowned and looked down at his brush. She gently took it from him and worked at getting the makeup out.

When she gave it back to him he still seemed a little sad.

She sighed and gave him a short hug. “I’m not mad. I promise. It’s just… not your color!”

(The real reason was that makeup is very expensive, but kids don’t really understand money so she needed an excuse.)

Damian was still a little pouty. She didn’t know what to do. Damn. She supposed that served her right. She shouldn't have dared to think that she was getting the hang of having the whole ‘having a baby’ thing.

She sighed and looked down at him for a few moments, thinking. He was sitting in the high chair they kept him in when both of them were too busy to hold him. Usually he would be swinging his legs back and forth like a toddler -- probably because he was a toddler -- but now he was remarkably still, green eyes wide as he looked up at her.

She glanced at the time. Damian had woken her up early that morning, so she had extra time to get ready…

Marinette pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the internet.

… hm. Makeup could be toxic to babies. Good to know.

She grabbed one of her makeup wipes and scrubbed it from his face. She’d make sure to tell Tim so he could look out for any rashes the kid might get.

Then, she pulled out a comb and started brushing the tiny curls on Damian’s head. There wasn’t much, so it was mostly just dragging against his scalp, but the kid seemed pleased so she kept doing that for a few minutes.

At one point, he tried to take the comb from her. She allowed it, figuring he wanted to try and brush his own hair, but then he reached for her.

She leaned down to take him out of the chair, she was mostly done getting ready anyways, but instead he started trying to brush her hair.

… oh.

She felt, strangely, like crying. Her kid -- sorry, this kid -- was just so cute.

… but she didn’t want to mess up her hair...

He made a vague whining sound and she was weak.

She could always fix her hair on the train or something, she supposed.

She hesitantly leaned down so he could brush her hair. “Fuck it? I guess?”

“Fuck it,” Damian said, giving a short nod.

She groaned internally. “I’m actually going to have to stop swearing, aren’t I?”

“Fuck it!” Damian said again, louder this time.

Her lips twitched. “You’re so right, Dami. Who cares about a few little swears?”

“I do,” said Tim, who was apparently standing in the doorway.

She yelped. She probably would have flinched away if Damian hadn’t managed to make a giant knot in her hair in the few seconds that she had let him touch it.

She turned and sent Tim a weak smile. “You’re up early.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please stop teaching him swears.”

“I mean… it’s kind of funny, though.”

“It’s not.”

Marinette groaned overdramatically and turned to look at Damian. “He’s such a stick in the mud, amiright?”

“Sti-in-mu,” Damian said, nodding.

Tim huffed. “I’m starting to think he likes you better.”

“As he should,” Marinette said. She picked up the baby and nuzzled her nose against his. “Who’s a smart baby? You are!”

Damian giggled and tried to nuzzle her back.

~

Tim hummed as he went around the apartment, sweeping the floors. He and Marinette had come to a kind of unspoken agreement: he would do the cleaning, and she would do the cooking. It was only fair, since Tim’s standards for cleanliness were higher than hers and she was the only one out of the three people there that was physically capable of cooking an edible meal.

(Yes, he was aware that he was comparing his cooking skills to that of a baby. It was accurate, okay?)

Damian crawled along after him. He was trying to help, Tim was pretty sure, swatting the floor behind where Tim was cleaning...

Tim smiled. Maybe he should get the kid some fake cleaning supplies like Marinette had done with all of her makeup brushes. Would he like that? Only one way to find out, he supposed. He found the grocery list and wrote it down.

When he turned back to where he had left Damian -- which, he reminded himself, he shouldn’t be doing, because the kid was surprisingly fast when it came to trying to get himself killed -- and found the kid…

Holy shit.

He was walking.

Tim watched with a bright smile as Damian struggled to his feet and took a few steps towards him.

It didn’t last long. Damian had only really managed about three steps before he fell back to his knees and crawled the rest of the way. But…

Tim made a slightly embarrassing squealing noise in the back of his throat and leaned down, scooping the baby up in his arms and hugging him close. He couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off of his face.

“Look at you! Walking! Oh my god! Oh my god oh my god oh my god!”

Damian was blinked up at him in wide-eyed confusion.

Tim leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of the kid’s head and refused to pull back until he had calmed down a little.

He smiled down at his younger brother, who looked delighted at the attention but also very confused as to what was going on.

He looked around until he found Kaalki, who had been on his phone doing… horse things? God things? Who cares?

“Please tell me you took a video of that.”

“Nope. I did get a picture of you kissing his forehead, though.”

Tim huffed a little. “Delete that.”

“Too late. Already sent it to Marinette.”

Even this wasn’t enough to dampen his mood.

And Tim knew that the fact that Damian was walking had almost nothing to do with him, but he was proud, damn it. Or maybe the better way of saying it was that he was happy for the kid? He didn’t know, he had always been terrible with emotions. It was a good emotion, though, that much he was sure of.

He kissed Damian’s forehead again and smiled when the baby giggled at him and reached out, smushing his cheeks in his hands.

“Hello,” Tim struggled to say with the baby hands pressing in on his face.

“Nano,” Damian said.

“Close enough,” he said. “Want to watch some TV to celebrate?”

Damian nodded vigorously. Tim wondered, vaguely, if the kid understood what he was saying or if he just kind of gave answers when he knew that Marinette and Tim were asking him things.

Didn't matter. Tim would put on that one weird show with the talking cat that Damian liked and they could watch that until Marinette got home.

And, when she did, she practically ran over. She didn’t even take off her shoes, a sure sign that she was excited.

Damian looked away from the TV and smiled. “Mar-ree.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open for a second… and then curled into a bright smile.

“You’re so… cute!” She cooed. “Yes! Hi! Good to see you, Dami!”

Tim pouted, slightly jealous.

She seemed to notice because she stuck her tongue out at him. “You got to see his first steps and I didn’t. I deserve this.”

He disagreed. The pout on his face remained until Damian saw and twisted around in his lap, leaning up and wrapping his arms around his neck in a kind of hug. Because it was kind of hard to stay sad when he was doing that.

He hugged the kid back for a few moments and then drew back, planting a kiss on his nose.

Marinette hesitated.

“Can I… have him for a few minutes? I want to see him walk.”

Tim considered this.

Then he smiled. “Only if I can take a video.”

“I would have made you do it, anyways,” she said.

Tim chuckled softly and handed the baby over so they could take the video.

~

She slipped into the apartment after a long day of work.

Tim was fluffing the pillows, apparently out of apartment to clean.

Damian looked up from the pillow he was hitting at the sound of the door clicking closed, and he seemed to light up. He grabbed Tim’s hand with one hand for his attention and pointed at her excitedly with the other.

“Nano! Yanzur! Mar-ree!”

“Yeah, that’s Mari,” Tim agreed.

Marinette flexed her feet now that they were out of the god-forsaken heels that she had been wearing.

“Hi, Dami. How was your day?” She asked.

Damian didn’t understand the question and certainly didn’t know enough words to respond, but he seemed sated by the acknowledgement of his existence. He slowly slid off of the couch and started his way over to her.

Marinette smiled faintly, amused. She looked over at Tim while she waited for him to get to her.

“So… he told you to look at me, that I get… but what is a ‘Nano’?”

“That’s what he’s calling me now, I think,” Tim said, slightly flushed.

She blinked. “That… isn’t even close to your name.”

“I know,” he said, shrugging helplessly.

Her lips twitched. “Maybe he’s calling you short.”

Tim threw the pillow he had been fluffing at her.

She let it hit her -- it was a pillow, it wasn’t like it would hurt -- and then stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t blame me! I’m but an innocent bystander in this! He’s the one that did it!”

Damian tugged on the fabric of her shirt. She looked down, a grin still on her face. He made grabby hands and she obliged with ease, picking him up and nuzzling her nose against his.

Then, her eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Tell me, Dami, is Tim short?”

Damian looked between the two of them. Marinette was nodding and Tim was shaking his head vigorously.

“... shor!”

Marinette burst into a fit of giggles while Tim groaned.

“I hate you.”

Her amusement didn’t die down in the slightest. “Oh, if you hate me, then I guess I’m only making food for Dami and I. Hope you didn’t eat all the leftovers for lunch today...”

“Wait, Mari, let’s talk about this --.”

~~~~~

Next

@unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

[alpacaparkaseok]

Ivy

➣ Pairing: apprentice!Jungkook x reader, art curator!Hoseok x reader

➣ Premise: You’ve been promised to Jung Hoseok for twelve years. You’ve never wanted anything else. Until now. (inspired by the song “Ivy” by Taylor Swift)

➣ Genre: arranged marriage au, angsty with some fluff, SFW

➣ warnings/tags: it’s a bit angsty, the reader is technically promised to someone else so it’s a little messy, general EmOTioNS, a bit intense/stalkerish but not too bad?? some fun fluff and banter as well, but Hoseok might kill a man and Jungkook will go down fighting

➣ word count: 12.2k *yeah, I know. this sucker is like 3 times longer than it was meant to be*

➣ a/n: this was a commission by @delacyrose224 for Army for AAPI! Thank you so much for requesting this awesome prompt, I literally had too much fun writing this. I swear, I could’ve made a whole series out of this. You guys, check out ways to get involved in this awesome cause by clicking the link!

The person staring back at you in the mirror is not you. Of that, you are certain. There’s no way you could ever pull this off – the silken layers, ivory making your skin glow with a dew-like complexion…

           You voice as much. “I don’t even recognize myself.”

           “Isn’t that kind of the point?”

           Whirling around in a flurry of skirts and soft-to-the-touch fabric, you spot your betrothed lingering in the doorway.

           “Hoseok!”

           He chuckles, the sound making the corners of your lips tug upward. Taking in the sight before him, you can’t help but notice the way he chews on the inside of his cheek. Hoseok takes one hesitant step forward, crossing his arms.

           “You should’ve seen me earlier,” he croons, voice always sounding like he’s a breath away from laughter. “I thought my dad had somehow teleported into the mirror.”

           You wince. “Does this mean we’ve grown up?”

           “Unfortunately.”

           Twelve years of waiting for this. How have they already passed?

           “You know,” Hoseok begins, dropping your gaze in favor of stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t even properly proposed to you, yet.”

           “You should probably get on it.”

           “Mmm.”

           “Aren’t we getting married in April?”

           He frowns. “Yeah, mid-April I think. It’s barely November, though. So there’s no pressure, right?”

           You almost burst out laughing at his simple question. No pressure? Pressure has been your constant companion these past twelve years.

           What else were you supposed to feel? Trying telling a thirteen year old that they’re already promised to somebody and then tell them “Oh, but no pressure.” Of course, they made sure to drop that little piece of pointless comfort after they mentioned who you had been promised to.

           Jung Hoseok.

           Three years your senior, he had seemed larger-than-life when you first met less than a year after learning of your pre-determined commitment to him. He’d been kind, that was your first thought. A little strange, a little loud at times. For your teenage self, that was fine.

           Then things began to change. It was a rare occasion that you ever saw Hoseok; the two of you lived in different cities. However you distinctly remember one occasion in which you had unintentionally bumped into him while in search of your parents at their giant headquarters located in Busan.

           It was easy to get lost in that building – you still can picture all the different nooks and crannies where different works of art were stored. The more valuable ones were of course under lock and key, however there were plenty of show rooms that you managed to get lost in.

           You had done just that, taking a detour through the preservation room where several workers could be seen on the other side of the glass cleaning a timeless piece that had just been flown in from Austria. Once you realized where you were, you turned to leave. However, something caught your eye that made you hesitate.

           There was Hoseok, perched on the edge of a stool as he leaned over the artwork. There was nothing particularly flashy about him that day, something you weren’t used to. In all your time of knowing him (four years at that point), you had never seen him in something other than formal wear. If it wasn’t some sort of suit or dress shirt, it was a sweater vest that he somehow managed to pull off.

           This time, he was disguised in a white lab coat, holding a Loup to his eye in an effort to analyze the fine details of the painting. His brown hair was a little mussed, his knee bouncing up and down in the only outward show of excitement he portrayed.

           One of the workers began speaking, the details of their conversation muted to your ears due to the glass separating you from them. However, you watched as Hoseok listened with almost terrifying focus before turning back to the painting and delicately taking a brush to the frame. No doubt dusting off some invisible smudge.

           You had been frozen for a long moment, completely unfamiliar with this man. The Hoseok you knew was jovial and quick to laughter. He made you smile and roll your eyes. He put you at ease.

           This man, with his precise flicks of the wrist and unwavering focus, was a force of nature.

           You realized then, at the age of seventeen that while you were promised to this man, you did not know him at all. There was so much more hiding behind that heart-shaped smile.

           And now, at twenty-five, you are no closer to knowing him than you were before. You’ve never known anyone else quite so talented at wielding smiles with the same deftness as a sniper hiding on a rooftop.

           “No pressure?” You scoff, wiggling an eyebrow at your intended sniper. “That means I can’t gain any weight from here to April! That’s impossible with the holidays coming up!”

           Hoseok bursts out laughing, clapping at your comment as though you’ve just completed a stand-up routine. “That’s a good point,” he sighs, making a contented sound. “I’ll have to ask my tailor to let out my suit a bit in the spring.”

           You fidget on the pedestal, glancing back at the mirror over your shoulder. Your gown is breathtaking, there’s no denying it. It’s just…overwhelming.

           “Well,” Hoseok begins to back out of the room, “You look beautiful. Sorry for snooping around, but I couldn’t resist.”  

           You straighten up at his comment, preening a bit. Over the years, you’ve come to realize that Hoseok’s compliments are not given lightly.

           “Thank you.”

           He shrugs. “It’s true.” He turns on his heel and strides out the door, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll fly out first thing in the morning.”

           Piano Concerto No. 4 in G, from Beethoven’s Opera 58 echoes off the domed ceiling, bouncing through the air and enveloping you in a cocoon of music. Without your realizing, your right foot bounces out the rhythm as you crane your neck to get a better look at your work.

           “C’mon, David,” you groan, sparing the renowned sculpture a glare. “You’re not making this easy on me.”

           “I wasn’t aware that sculptures got vasectomies.”

           You jolt, nearly tipping off of your step stool before two warm hands grasp your shoulders. Sputtering and spewing, you spin around to see just who you need to direct your cursing at.

           “Who are you?” You fume as the person in question removes their hands from you and takes a timid step back.

           “Jeon Jungkook, m-ma’am.”

           “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

           Jungkook’s eyes widen even more, something you didn’t think he was capable of doing. Chowing down on his bottom lip, he gives you a small shake of his head.  

           “Then tell me who you are to me, not your name.” You inwardly grimace at your snappy tone, but you’ll apologize later.

           “Oh, I…uh, I’m the apprentice?” When you don’t immediately get a look of understanding on your face, Jungkook presses on. “Mr. Jung’s apprentice, ma’am.”

           Ah, that checks out.

           Hoseok’s father would be stepping down as the East-Asia representative on the international board of Art and Artifacts (basically the equivalent of the U.N. in art terms), leaving a spot open for Hoseok to ascend the ranks.

           “Why haven’t I met you before? Haven’t you been around for a while?”

           In order to complete the apprenticeship, Jungkook would need at least three years of working alongside Hoseok. Learning the ins and outs of being the curator of some of the biggest art collections and galleries in the world.

           “Yes ma’am, I have.”

           “Ok, Jungkook,” you stand up and stretch, gaining some sort of sick satisfaction from the way he scampers back a bit more to give you space. “Two things. First, I’m not ‘ma’am’. Just speak to me casually, ok?”

           There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes, but he nods. “And the second thing?”

           Turning point to the David in all his glory, you smirk over your shoulder. “Don’t sneak up on me when I’m working. David here nearly lost his balls because you startled me.”

           Cheeks flushed pink, Jungkook sputters out something resembling a “y-yes, I won’t do it again” before dropping his gaze to the floor. Chuckling to yourself, you resume your position before the sculpture, meticulously layering on a protective substance to the David’s nether regions.

           You and Hoseok had been called over to Italy in order to make preparations for the upcoming art show. It was to be the first of its kind --- never before had these timeless artworks been on display like this. Royalty, presidents, dignitaries of every kind mixed with world-class celebrities would be present.

           As a precaution you were going through and applying a protective but clear substance to more fragile parts of the artworks. Today, the David was the lucky one.

           “So, Jungkook,” you hum, completely undeterred by the strange position you were in at the moment. “What brings you over to my side of the museum today? Shouldn’t you be off with Hoseok, planning for the event?”

           “Ah, well…Mr. Jung said you might need a hand. I volunteered to assist you with whatever you need.”

           You blink. Hoseok had always been completely content to leave you to your work. It was a silent agreement you have: you let him do his thing, and he doesn’t interfere with your stuff.

           “Huh.” You smooth out the final touches, leaning back a bit. “Interesting. So what, you’re just hanging out with me for the rest of the day?”

           “Yep. For the rest of the week, actually.”

           David stares off into the distance, ever stoic. You swear you can see a bit of a confused glint in his eye as the sculpture listens in on your conversation. It’s always just been you and the artwork. So what’s this with Hoseok sending Jungkook over? Is he just trying to be kind and help you out?

           Probably. There’s no need to assume anything else. You just think…

           Well, despite trusting you, you would think he’d send someone less attractive to help you with your work. Is this some sort of trust exercise he’s pulling on you before he proposes? Or does he just not care enough to think about the possible repercussions of his actions?

           “Doesn’t he care at least a little bit?” You think aloud, frowning up at David.

           “What was that?”

           “Oh,” you swivel around to give Jungkook an apologetic smile. “Nothing. Do me a favor?” Jungkook nods. “Take a look at this for me, see if the extra layer is noticeable at all.”

           Getting up to move out of his way, you can’t help the grin that breaks out as Jungkook flushes a bit when he gets up close and personal with the David. Despite his obvious embarrassment though, he meticulously checks ever angle.

           “I can’t tell at all,” he finally responds, straightening up. “You’re amazing.”

           You blink. “Oh. Er…thanks.”

           “So, where to next?”

~~

           “We look like those ancient plague doctors,” Jungkook jokes, hanging you a bottle of clear liquid before you can even ask for it. “You know, like with the big beaks and stuff?”

           You snort, which in turn fogs up the inside of your suit. Waiting a moment for it to clear up, you glance back at Hoseok’s apprentice.

           He has a point. The two of you look slightly ridiculous, in your full body Hazmat suits that are necessary to inspect these ancient papyrus scrolls. They’re falling apart already, no need for you to contaminate them with something as feeble as a sigh. Once you’re finished working on them, they’ll be placed in thick Plexiglas cases which will keep them safe from the outside world.

           “We’re missing the beaks, though.”

           Jungkook hums, watching you carefully as you smooth out the scroll. “I bet we could roll these up and use them as beaks.”

           “Not funny.”

           “Worth a shot.”

           Rolling your eyes again; something you’ve become prone to doing in the past 24 hours you’ve known Jungkook, you set to work.

           It’s only quiet for so long before Jungkook speaks up again. He does so quietly, making good on his promise not to startle you anymore. “No Beethoven today?”

           You give a slight shake of your head, hardly daring to blink while applying the syrupy liquid to the bottom corner of the document. The slightest mess up would result in having to scrape it off before it dries, which is something you don’t want to have to try. Not when a single nick to the papyrus equals game over.

           Letting out a sigh of relief once you’ve completed that section, you sit back and stretch. “No,” you groan out mid-yawn. “It felt like a Tchaikovsky kind of day. Don’t know why.”

           “Hmm.”

           “Ok, we need to wait…” you glance at the clock on the wall. “About an hour to let that completely set in before flipping it and working on the other side.”

           “Great, let’s grab some lunch.”

           You blink, watching Jungkook as he shoots to his feet and heads toward the door. “I was going to suggest we get started on the next exhibit-”

           “Food first,” Jungkook chimes, leaving no room for argument as your stomach rumbles at the thought of lunch. “We’re literally in Italy, food always comes first.”

           Well, he has a point.

           You make a point of locating Hoseok before heading out for food, eventually finding him in a grand corridor surrounded by staff. Wherever Hoseok is, there’s constant motion. People flitting about, running errands and trying to keep everything moving in a timely fashion.

           As the two of you became closer work partners over the past few years, it’s become a familiar sight. It helps, finding Hoseok is usually fairly easy. Today proves no different.

           “Hoseok!” You wave him down, offering a smile to the surrounding staff that recognize you. The man in question is nudged by his assistant, Joshua.

           “Hey!” Hoseok breaks away from the group and jogs over to where you stand beside a column. He nods at Jungkook, smiling warmly. “What’re you two up to? I thought you were working the papyrus today.”

           “We have an hour before we can move on to the next thing, so we’re grabbing lunch. Wanna come?”

           “Oh,” the look of surprise on his face gives you cause to wonder when the last time you invited him to do something with you was. “That sounds…really nice, actually. Give me a minute?”

           Your heart stumbles as it pick up in speed, something you weren’t anticipating. “Yeah, sure. We’ll wait right here.”

           “Great, thanks.”

           With that, he scurries back over to the throng. Jungkook leans over to you, elbow nudging your arm.

           “What?”

           “How long do you think they’ll last before calling him?” Jungkook muses, an amused smile on his face.

           You can’t help but laugh, knowing full well that it won’t be long. “I’d say…thirty minutes?”

           “Really? I’ll give them forty.”

           “You’re too generous.”

           “Aren’t you being too hard on them?”

           Your eyes slide over to Jungkook, arching a brow. “No. So what are we betting?”

           Jungkook breathes through his teeth, taking in your determined expression. “Hmmm…money or something else?”

           “Not money, that’s too boring.”

           “Ok, ok.” Crossing his arms, Jungkook sways from side to side as he thinks. Slowly, his eyes drag across your face, trying to see something that’s beneath the surface. “If you lose, you have to be my date to the gala.”

           “W-what?!” You choke on your spit, staring up at Jungkook like he just grew a second head. “I can’t- why would you-”

           He tilts his head to one side, clearly enjoying your shock. “Hurry, make your bet. What happens if you win?”

           “Jungkook, I’m literally marrying Hoseok in a few months, I can’t just go as someone else’s date!”

           “Don’t worry,” he winks, only furthering your embarrassment, “I’ve it all planned out. Now, hurry up. He’s heading back.”

           Indeed, Hoseok is clapping Joshua on the shoulder and turning this way. Chewing furiously on the inside of your cheek, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Ok, well if I win then you have to leave me alone for the rest of the week!”

           There’s a hint of worry that streaks across Jungkook’s features, but it’s covered up a few seconds later as he thrusts out his hand to shake on it. “Deal.”

           With the way he grins down at you, you can’t help but feel like this was a stupid thing to bet on.

~~

           You’re wedged into a booth not long after, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Hoseok. Jungkook takes the spot across from you two, never missing a beat in his conversation with your betrothed.

           “The guest list has been finalized,” Hoseok is saying, smiling warmly at the server that drops off some menus. You don’t miss the way she ogles your companions, shrugging it off. It’s become a common occurrence. You’re not blind to their looks.

           “It wasn’t finished before?” You ask, frowning. Hoseok passes a menu to you, leaning in a bit closer. It’s unnecessary, but the way he lets his leg rest against yours has a rush shooting through you.

           So…this is a new development.

           “No,” Jungkook answers for him. “Well, we thought it was, but then the curator here wanted to invite some more political officials. Has it been a mess trying to rearrange?”

           “Yeah, but everyone pulled their weight.”

           “That’s good to hear.”

           It’s relatively quiet as you all look over your menus, bouncing ideas off of each other for what they should get. After you’ve placed your orders, Hoseok nudges you.

           “Your mother called me last night.”

           Your eyes widen. “She did?”

           Both men chuckle at your obvious worry. “Yes, she did. We had a nice chat. Why do you look so concerned?”

           Perhaps it has something to do with the last conversation you had with your mother. It took place about three weeks ago, when she’d come up to Seoul for a visit. The visit had been pleasant enough; you’d gone to dinner and talked about things back home. She’d actually approved of your apartment, despite the eclectic feel to it.

           It has almost been too normal. You should’ve known that it was only a matter of time before something happened.

           You were busy putting your leftovers from the restaurant in the fridge, your mother hovering in the doorway to the kitchen with a pensive look on her face.

           “Have you ever had…doubts?”

           “Doubts?” Your voice was muffled from the odd angle, but you peeked out around the door of the fridge with a questioning look. “About what?”

           Your mother shrugged, keeping her eyes trained on the door of the fridge and its decorative magnets. “About Hoseok.”

           You immediately stood, closing the door with a dull thud. “What?”

           “I just…your wedding is coming up, he’s probably going to propose within the next couple of months – for heaven’s sake, you have your dress fitting coming up in just a couple of weeks, isn’t that right?”

           “Mom,” you voice was stern. “What is this about? You’re scaring me.”

           At your confession your mother finally met your eyes. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean to worry you so much. But I can’t help but wonder, you know? We’ve never really talked about it-”

           “There was never anything to talk about!” You sigh, exasperated. “All I’ve known is that I’m going to end up with Hoseok, and that’s that! He’s a nice man, hardworking, and we make a good team.”

           “I know, darling. I know.” She hesitated before stepping forward, coming to place a loving hand on your cheek. “I just want you to know that you get to make this decision. Even though it may not have always felt like it. There is…more. Out there, for you.”

           More?

           “Just, uh…” you shake your head, trying to clear your mind of those thoughts rolling around your head. “Wanted to make sure she didn’t share any embarrassing information about me.”

           This makes both men chuckle, Jungkook leaning forward with eager eyes. “Like what? Do tell.”

           You blush at his undivided attention, groaning and slipping down further in your seat. Hopefully neither of them notice your pink cheeks, something tells you that Jungkook would never let you live it down.

           The fact that you don’t know how Hoseok would react has you even more on edge.

           Hoseok grins at you as you sit up again, reaching around your shoulders to pull you close. “Aw, you probably don’t have any embarrassing stories. We all already know that you’re perfect.”

           You blink, staring up at your betrothed as his smile softens. He’s never spoken to you like this. First sending extra help in the form of Jungkook, then dropping everything to go to lunch, now this?

           Before your mind can run with the idea blooming in your chest, your server appears with your food. Her eyes instantly zone in on you and Hoseok, something registering in her eyes as she offers you a warm smile. Then, she turns her full attention on Jungkook. Practically eating him alive as she sets his food down in front of him.

           “Your hair is so long,” she muses. “I’ve never seen anyone able to pull off hair like that…what’s your secret?”

           Jungkook, who you assumed would preen in the attention, hardly glances the girl’s way. His eyes rest on where Hoseok’s hand ghosts over your shoulder, slow in its retreat. Jungkook keeps a neutral expression, although his eyes shoot up to yours in a way that has you pinned to the back of the booth.

           It’s over just as quickly as it began, Jungkook grinning down at his food and mumbling, “No secret. Just good genes.” He doesn’t wait another second before diving into his food. You snort at his reply, Hoseok just shaking his head before beginning to eat in a more meticulous manner. If he noticed the strange exchange that just passed between you and Jungkook, he doesn’t say anything.

           Or maybe it was all in your head. Maybe that protective coating you applied to the papyrus earlier today has gone straight to your head, addling your brain.

           The food is delicious, as expected. The three of you fall into an easy conversation, revolving mainly around work. You notice that Jungkook keeps checking his phone, but you ignore it.

           That is, until he offers you a smug smile before focusing his attention on Hoseok.

           “So, for this gala…we’re meant to bring a plus one, right?”

           Hoseok nods. “Yep.”

           “Who’re you taking?”

           Hoseok laughs, taking a long sip of his drink. “Who? I don’t know, I feel like I should maybe take the woman I’m marrying in a few months.” He shoots you a friendly wink, but you can’t completely return his light-hearted nature. Has it already been forty minutes? But still, there’s been no call…

           “Oh,” a familiar ringtone cuts through the air, and Hoseok grabs his phone from his pocket, frowning at the screen. “It’s Joshua. I’ll just step outside for a moment.”

           Hoseok is too busy sliding out of the booth to notice the way your jaw drops. The second he’s out of sight, you turn an accusatory glare toward Jungkook. “What was that? Did you seriously tell them to call-”

           “Before you castrate me, I’d like to defend myself. Can I do that?”

           “And then I can castrate you?”

           Jungkook visibly swallows. “I only meant it hypothetically, but…just listen.” When you angrily wave for him to continue, the smug smile from earlier reappears on his face. “I have this all under control. But, from where I’m sitting, I won our little bet. So I have a question for you.”

           “I’m not going with you, Hoseok is taking me!”

           Pushing his tongue against his cheek, Jungkook sits back and observes you for a moment. “Don’t be so sure about that, sweetheart. Now, what color of dress are you wearing to this thing?”

~~

           You do your best to ignore Jungkook for the rest of the day. Hoseok chats happily with you on the walk back to the museum, occasionally finding a way to let his hand graze yours. It’s enough to keep you distracted from Jungkook’s complacent expression which is usually directed in your direction.

           Parting from Hoseok is like parting with a security blanket, and he looks to be particularly pleased with the way you run your hand down his arm before bidding him goodbye. Jungkook huffs a breath, which goes unnoticed by your betrothed as he heads into the building where countless workers wait for him.

           “I’m still waiting on an answer,” Jungkook chides a few moments later. You’re desperately trying to outpace him, annoyed when he easily keeps up.

           “You’re not getting one and we’re not going together.”

           “Didn’t I tell you that I’d take care of it? Everything. Even Hoseok.” You stop in your tracks when Jungkook jumps in front of the doors, opening one up with a flourish.

           “Jungkook.”

           “Yes, darling?” It’s infuriating how much you react to the pet name, your reddening cheeks giving you away instantly.

           “Stop.”

           Jungkook blinks, straightening up a bit as you sweep past him and head inside. When he’s silent the entire walk to the papyrus lab, you let out a sigh of relief. Never mind the fact that there’s a dull disappointment blooming in your chest. For a moment, it was nice to think of what a night at Jungkook’s side could be like.

           It would certainly be different than what you’re used to with Hoseok. Not that you two often spend occasions like this together, it’s more of a formality than anything. The first few minutes are always a dream: Hoseok can’t take his eyes off of you and gets flustered. He’s a perfect gentleman, and even goes so far as to hold you close to him when entering the event.

           However, it only takes a few minutes before he’s swept off in one direction and you the other. Collogues, board members, and possible buyers of the rare artwork on display keep you two busy and apart for the entirety of the night.

           You make to step into the prep room, ready to get back into your hazmat suit and start on the other side of the papyrus scrolls. The moment you step in, however, the thought of being stuck in such a small space with Jungkook nearly makes your lightheaded. Focus is paramount in your line of work, and Jungkook counts as a distraction.

           “Would you go around to the sculptures we worked on yesterday and make sure they’re doing ok?” You glance over your shoulder to see Jungkook freeze in the doorway. “I, uh…I never know how they’re going to respond to the added layer.”

           Jungkook has lost all of his previous swagger, simply giving you a curt nod before turning to walk away. You can’t help but watch as he briskly heads down the hallways, running his hands through his hair before fisting them at the nape.

           You jump a little as the door closes, lost in your thoughts. Rushing back to you are your mother’s words.

           “There is…more. Out there, for you.”

           The words settle for a moment before you snort, chuckling to yourself before putting one leg in the hazmat suit. “They’re both hot. So what?”

~~

           Two more days pass in a similar fashion. Jungkook is always waiting for you at the entrance to the museum, resembling an eager puppy before you shut him down with a stern look.

           Last night you spent a ridiculous amount of time coming up with errands you could send him on that wouldn’t seem too suspicious. For the most part it’s worked; you’ve been working alone for most of the day, and Jungkook hasn’t seemed too keen to intrude.

           A part of you feels a bit bad for shutting him out so much, but you really have no reason to let him in. Especially not when he was so set on taking you to the gala when you’re very clearly promised to another.

           “Does he have something against Hoseok?”

           Your question is directed to your current project, The Incoronation of the Virgin, by Jacopo di Cione.  Of course, the virgin humbly sitting with a crown on her head pays you no mind, but you carry on anyway.

           “But then again, why would he? He’s getting his job, isn’t he?” You sit back, lightly dusting at the finer details of the mural. “Oh, maybe he’s angry at me.”

           “Why would I be angry at you?”

           You gasp as you stumble back, losing your footing from where you were on a stepping stool. You gasp louder (if that’s possible) when two sturdy hands grab your waist, firmly keeping you in place.

           “Steady?”

           “Why do you keep sneaking up on me?” You seethe, stepping down and out of Jungkook’s grasp. “Did I ask you to finish cleaning the bottles we used yesterday?”

           “I finished that.”

           “And what about sweeping the work area?”

           “Done.”

           “What about-”

           “Done,” Jungkook looks like he’s considering taking another step, but stays put. “I finished everything. Now would you quit sending me away?”

           You give him a long look, noting the way his cheeks burn under your gaze. After a moment you sigh. “Yeah, fine.”

           Jungkook perks up instantly, and a second later you find him glued to your side. He gazes up at the panel you’ve been working on, his mouth dropping of its own accord.

           “Wow, it’s beautiful.”

           “Mmhm.” You head back up the step stool, getting back to work while Jungkook holds it steady. He admires the artwork, leaving you in relative peace.

           “How did you get into this stuff?” He asks from the other end of the painting. You arch a brow before furrowing it, trying to come up with a reasonable answer.

           “I…well, this is what my family does.”

           “Uh-huh.”

           “Well, I guess they tend to lean more toward the buying and selling of artwork. From my teen years I’ve always gravitated more toward the conservation of artwork.”

           “Why’s that?” The fact that he sounds genuinely interested throws you off, making you pause as you meet his curious gaze. There’s no malice in his eyes, not a hint of the annoying pride from two days prior. Just genuine interest.

           It gives you a falling sensation, which has you clinging to the stool until it passes.

           “It’s quiet. Peaceful, for the most part.”

           “But it’s stressful, too?”

           The beginnings of a smile curl at your lips. “Yes, that too.”

           A companionable silence falls between the two of you after that, allowing for you to work quickly and efficiently. Once you’re satisfied with the panel, you find Jungkook ready to hold the stool steady while you get down.

           “What about you?” The question falls from your lips before you really understand what you’re asking.

           “Me?”

           “Yeah. Why did you decide to become an apprentice? It’s a long apprenticeship. And last I checked, curating isn’t exactly a hot trend.”

           Jungkook scrunches his nose in a way that has you wondering if what you just said was somehow absolutely adorable. He certainly thinks it was.

           “Well, there are a number of reasons.” He glances sidelong at you as you gather your things to head back to the storage space. “But mainly because it felt right.”

           You frown. “That’s your reason?” Jungkook nods, amusement glittering in his eyes. “What happens when you wake up and it doesn’t feel right anymore?”

           “Why? Do you know the feeling?”

           Suddenly you know that you’re no longer talking about career choices. It’s only confirmed when Jungkook slows to a stop, hoisting up the bucket of supplies and facing you.

           “I- no, I love my job-”

           “Haven’t you ever wondered, though?” Now it’s practically impossible to decipher what exactly is going on behind Jungkook’s bright eyes, his long brown hair falling into his face. “There’s more out there, you know. Why do you stay?”

           For some reason, you’re frozen in place. A deer in the headlights, probably reading way too much into this conversation.

           “S-stay?”

           “Yeah,” Jungkook takes a small step forward, as though afraid of scaring you off. “After all this time, you’re still here. Why?”

           Your breath is caught in your throat. “I…” The world stops spinning as Jungkook tilts his head to one side, eyes swallowing you whole as they trace the outline of your lips. Despite not laying a single finger on you, your skin blazes as though he were physically reaching out.

           With a step back, you glare at the floor before taking a steeling breath. “The retirement plan’s great. Hard to pass up on.”

           The sound of your footsteps echo off the walls, listening for Jungkook to follow after you.

           He doesn’t.

~~

           “So, about the gala.” Hoseok stands in the doorway to your hotel room, tie long gone and top button loosed. It’s a rare sight, and yet it never fails to be one of your favorites. “I have a weird proposition for you.”

           You kick off your shoes, not bothering with decency as you fall back on your bed with a groan. “Shoot.”

           “Jungkook has this really prestigious cousin that’s connected to the royal family-”

           “Royal family?” You sit up, frowning at Hoseok.

           “Yeah, like the British one? I think so, at least. Anyway, I don’t remember how she’s connected but it’s a big deal. And apparently she asked for me to escort her at the gala.”

           If blood could run cold, yours is pushing freezing. “Huh. Is that so.”

           Hoseok gives you an apologetic smile. “I know it’s weird and that’s why I came to you, I don’t want to hurt you-”

           “I’ll just go by myself, it’s fine.”

           “No, no. You’re not going alone. Jungkook already offered to take you.”

           You chew on the inside of your cheek, resolve withering at the sight of Hoseok’s tentative hope. You wonder if he would really back down if you asked to go with him. To let Jungkook’s schmoozing cousin find a different date.

           “Just say the word,” Hoseok offers with a fading smile. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

           For some reason, your ears expect to hear the word darling at the end of that sentence. But they don’t, and you know exactly where you can go for that.

           More, huh?

           “That’s fine, Hoseok. Really. What’s one night?”

           Hoseok rushes forward with glee, wrapping you in his arms for a second before backing away and heading toward the door. “You’re amazing, you know that? Absolutely amazing. The guests are going to be in awe of your work.”

~~

           The guests are, unsurprisingly, oblivious to your meticulous work.

           You’re not complaining, they’re not meant to notice it. Your work is behind the scenes, whereas Hoseok’s work is visible everywhere.

           His handywork acts as a constant reminder of him, keeping you on edge as you trail up the flower-studded stairs that are already overflowing with guests. A few give you odd looks as you walk alone, but most are too preoccupied with their own problems to care much for yours.

           You don’t know how he did it, but Jungkook managed to get you all to himself after all. The thought had left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach all day yesterday at work, hardly bothering to exchange more than a few words with the man in question. It seemed like he had almost anticipated this, content to leave you be. It was when he asked what time he should pick you up that you looked at him, angry at the fact that you immediately admired his outfit of choice. It suited him, which shouldn’t have come as such a surprise.

           “I’ll meet you there,” you had responded firmly, hopefully leaving no room for argument. “Wait for me beside the entrance.”

           It was bad enough that you were going without your betrothed; that another woman was going to be hanging off his arm all night. The last thing you wanted was to create an equally flashy arrival with his apprentice. You were by no means the most popular guests in attendance tonight, but the guarantee of countless cameras had you refraining from taking any chances.

           Now, as you make your way to the entrance, you try to not look too eager. Jungkook is nowhere to be found yet, making you frown, but movement catches your attention in the corner of your eye.

           Stepping from the shadows is Jungkook, looking like he was made for this event. The first thing you notice about him is the wistful smile he gives you, which you return before your mind catches up with what’s going on.

           He looks…immaculate. Not over-the-top, he’s wearing a fairly standard black suit with a thin black tie. Nothing too flashy, but it might as well be an original piece with the way he wears it. His hair has been carefully styled, so unlike the careless mop you’ve seen throughout this week.

           Jungkook moves toward you like a man on a mission while you remain at the top of the stairs, hardly daring to breathe.

           “Hello,” he mutters, coming to a stop before you. “You look…stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

           He doesn’t wait for a response, perhaps already knowing that your tongue has turned leaden in his presence. Jungkook offers you his arm, which you graciously take. Hopefully he doesn’t pay too much attention to the way you’re gripping his forearm for dear life.

           The two of you sweep inside, gaining easy access as you’re well acquainted with the staff. As you pass a long, tall mirror that’s flanked by sphinxes, you can’t help but glance over.

           You do look stunning.

           The red gown you wear isn’t too revealing, not too flashy, but calls attention to you just the same. No matter where you are tonight, Hoseok will be able to find you with ease. The thought fills you with a sick sort of satisfaction. He’ll see you, but he’ll see who’s arm you’re on, as well.

           With Jungkook by your side, you’re a force of nature. The two of you are no longer walking, rather prowling the premises as you make your way toward the ballroom. A few stragglers that are trying to get a peek at the closed off exhibits notice your keen eye and scamper off.

           It’s a new sensation to you, watching those people flee from before you as though you were an enemy soldier on a mission. Perhaps it has something to do with the way Jungkook appears to be smoldering beside you, emitting a dangerous aura that you never realized he could give off. For a brief moment, the silly boy you’ve been actively avoiding this week has vanished. In his wake stands a man with a purpose, the successor to the famed Jung Hoseok, and a legitimate contender amongst art dealers.

           “I’m not used to this,” you mutter as Jungkook continues in his path. His steps are timed perfectly to your own, and you wonder if that’s a mere coincidence or if he’s currently keeping count in his head.

           “Used to what?” Even his voice has turned to a dangerous rasp, smoky eyes sliding over to observe you.

           “People respecting personal space. Usual they all flock to Hoseok the second he walks in the door.”

           The corner of his lips pull up in a smirk. “And which do you prefer?”

           You sigh. “Are you seriously turning this into a competition?”

           You’re almost to the ballroom, but you let out a surprised sound when you veer off course into a deserted corridor just above the stairs that lead down into the ballroom. You realize that he’s taking you across a small overlook which shows the ballroom, a flurry of suits and dresses writhing before you on the level below. It’s a mesmerizing sight, and upon instinct you seek out Hoseok.

           Jungkook notices your search, pausing to allow you to look around a bit more. He studies your side profile carefully. “Is that such a bad thing?” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s referring to the competition.

           There’s Hoseok, sure enough he’s weaving in and out of the crowd. People smile and clap him on the back, making space for him and his companion to get through.

           Jungkook’s cousin, Margaret, stays close behind your betrothed. She even goes so far as to hold onto his hand, offering him a shy smile when he looks back at her questioningly. However, he does nothing to shake her off.

           “Yes,” you answer. Then, “He never took me along with him.”

           “You mean at events like these?” Jungkook stands beside you at the railing, eyes instantly finding the “he” you’re referring to. “I know. You two usually go your separate ways.”

           The nonchalant manner with which he comments this has you turning to face him, confusion clear on your face. “How could you know that?”

           Jungkook frowns, popping his knuckles as he refuses to look at you. “Isn’t it pretty common knowledge? You two are both prominent members of the art community that hardly have time for each other. The rest is fairly simple to figure out.”

           You step to the side, granting yourself enough space to glare up at the man.

           “Fairly simple? Jungkook, I don’t know why you think you can make assumptions about my relationship with Hoseok, but there’s no need to do so. You’re right, we’re both busy. But we’re happy. Why do you seem so intent on making me second guess that? Why is everything a competition with you?”

           You’re surprised when Jungkook doesn’t step down like he usually does. Instead he straightens up, leaning in a bit closer while his eyes bore into your own. You swallow, pressing your nails into the palm of your hand when his gaze tracks the movement of your throat.

           “Calling it a competition might be a bit crass,” Jungkook mutters, voice coming out much softer than you anticipated. “But I guess you can say that. Sure, it’s a competition. As of right now, there are no clear winners.”

           “But what are you two competing for?” You ask, exasperated. “There’s no need to go after Hoseok, Jungkook. You’re getting his position in just a few months, you’ll have the same influence he does now. I don’t understand. Why go to such great lengths? Are you trying to usurp him or something?”

           Jungkook finds a way to step impossibly closer, one hand gripping the railing while the other finds your hand. “Which would you deem more valuable: your hand in marriage or your heart?”

           Dangerous, this is dangerous, your heart chides. Despite the warning, you can’t help but sneer and step impossibly closer. There’s a spark of anger deep within you, and if it wasn’t for your current predicament you would stop for a moment and wonder when the last time you felt such an intense emotion was, but you press on.

           “I wasn’t aware that I had to choose,” you seethe. You swallow a gasp as Jungkook leans in, nose nearly bumping against yours.

           You can see whole galaxies in those eyes of his. Glinting and shining under the light of the chandelier, stars begging for you to come dance. What would happen if you danced under his stars? Something tells you that you don’t want to find out.

           “That’s not an answer,” Jungkook breathes out.

           “I’m sorry, what that not good enough for you?”

           He blinks, an amused smirk painting his features. “You’re angry. Good.”

           “Good?” You sputter out, taking a small step back and finding it infinitely easier to breathe now that there’s some distance between you two. “You wanted me to be angry?”

           Shrugging, Jungkook rolls his neck from side to side, looking casual as ever. As though you weren’t just about to bite his nose off if he were to say one more stupid thing.

           “Anger is an emotion. I count that as a win. Now,” he extends his hand out with a flourish, “shall we dance?”

           “No.”

           “I’d rethink that answer if I were you, darling.” Jungkook makes a point of looking out over the railing, and your eyes unwillingly follow his line of sight.

           There’s Hoseok, spinning Margaret around and around. His smile is wide, and you can hear his laughter from up here.

           He has no idea that you’re up here fighting for your marriage, does he?

           Again, that anger is stoked until it’s steadily consuming you. With a huff that sounds more akin to a grown, you take Jungkook’s hand.

           “One. Dance.”

~~

           One turns into two, and two turns to four. The music lilts and does almost all the work, Jungkook picking up the slack as he moves your through the songs. You can hardly tell where one ends and another begins, all you know is two things.

1.     You’re still angry, however it’s being steadily replaced by confusion.

2.     Hoseok and Margaret stopped dancing a while ago, and they currently stand off to the side trying to make it look like they’re not watching you.

“Your cousin appears to be very concerned about you,” you pant, the dancing finally taking its toll. Jungkook glances sidelong, chuckling darkly.

“That’s probably because she’s not my cousin and I told her she would only have to stay for an hour or so.”

If Jungkook’s hand at your back wasn’t propelling you forward, you’re sure you would’ve stopped dead in your tracks.

“What?”

There’s a twinkle of amusement in those galaxy-filled eyes of his. “She is connected to the royal family; I’ll give her that much. But she’s not my cousin. Just an old friend helping out with a favor.”

You’re not sure if you should laugh or cry.

After a moment, you settle for easing out of Jungkook’s grasp with the excuse to use the restroom. The sound of your heels on the marble floor is drowned out as the live band pick up a lively tune, causing a new rush of people to the dance floor. Somehow you manage to weave your way toward the hallway where you think you remember seeing a restroom sign, unaware of someone hot on your heels.

You’re reaching out for the door when you feel a hand at your elbow. It stops you mid-step, pulling you in an entirely different direction. Gasping, you whirl about to see Hoseok with a grim expression. He doesn’t utter a word, marching the two of you toward a dark corner.

“Hoseok, you scared me!” You whisper-shout, entirely unsure of why you’re whispering in the first place. Perhaps it has something to do with the secluded area he’s led you to, not a single soul in sight.

Once you’ve turned the corner, Hoseok presses your back against the wall, peeking around the corner toward the faint light of the festivities. The sound of trombones and cellos echo around the corridor, making you feel like you’re experiencing a memory rather than living this moment in real time.

When Hoseok turns back to face you, you note the way his hair is mussed. You immediately begin to smooth it out with a frown. He’s usually so meticulous about his hair during events like this.

His eyes soften a bit at your ministrations, but his face is still flushed. “Are you enjoying yourself tonight?”

“I- no…?”

“That’s odd,” Hoseok tilts his head to one side, eyes pinning you to the wall better than his hands. “You certainly look like you are.”

You blink. “I do?”

He lets out a choked laugh, the sound seeming so at odds with his typical demeanor. “Are you that oblivious? The way you’ve been staring at him all night certainly makes it seem like you’re drinking in every moment.”

“S-staring? At who?”

“Jungkook!” You flinch a little when Hoseok raises his voice, but he doesn’t notice as he pinches his eyes shut. “Just…be a little more cautious, ok?”

“I…”

When you’re silent, Hoseok opens his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath, head bobbing to one side in a habit which you’d always found endearing. Now, though, it’s as good as a death sentence as he steps a little closer. Slowly, so slowly you want to scream, his eyes dip down to your lips.

“No,” he mutters to himself, so quietly that you wonder if he doesn’t realize that he’s speaking his thoughts aloud. “Not here.”

Pushing back from the wall, Hoseok steps away and leaves you with a lingering stare before he’s disappearing around the corner. Your ears strain to listen to his retreating steps, but they’re quickly overtaken by the music and chatter of the crowd.

“What just happened?” You whisper to yourself. After a moment, you ease out of the corridor, scurrying toward the bathroom. Flinging open the stall, you stare down at the toilet wondering if you’re about to retch. With the way your stomach is churning, it’s definitely a possibility.

You emerge from the stall a moment later, feeling no better than when you went in. If only you could splash some water on your face, that would probably help clear up your head. However, you’ve still got a few hours ahead of you. The event is nowhere near ending.

The door swings open as you brace yourself against the sink, and you look up in the mirror to see who just walked in behind you. Margaret pauses for a second as she meets your eyes, the door drifting shut at her back.

“I was hoping you were still in here,” she drawls, her posh accent instantly making you want to stand up straight.

“Well, here I am.”

You wince; your voice sounds horrible. Like you’ve been screaming for hours, when you haven’t hardly said a word in the past hour. No, according to Hoseok you’ve been too busy staring.

Margaret chuckles, coming to the sink beside you and running the faucet. “Look, I’ll make this quick. Jungkook has been waiting around for you for long enough, and to be frank I’m sick of hearing about it. If I were you, I’d make up my mind sooner rather than later.”

You’re sick of asking questions, but it appears that that’s all you have for tonight. “What?” You stare at Margaret, who looks almost other-worldly in her deep blue gown. “I just met Jungkook this week, I think you’re mistaken.”

“You just- what?”

It’s nice to see that someone else looks a little confused for once. You thought you were the only one out of the loop, but judging by the look on Margaret’s face, she’s just joined the club.

“Like I said,” you say, leaning one hip against the sink. “I just met Jungkook a few days ago. Hoseok sent him over to assist me in getting everything ready for the gala.”

“But he said…” Margaret shakes her head, focusing in on you once again. “Don’t tell him I said anything to you, alright?”

Before you even have a chance to answer, Margaret is sweeping out the door and leaving you behind in a stunned stupor. Slowly, you turn to face the mirror again. Then, to your eternal horror, a toilet flushes.

Out ambles Scarlett Johansson, who shoots you a grin before promptly washing her hands. “Trouble in paradise?”

You snort, in disbelief. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

~~

It takes a while to find Jungkook, but then again that may be because you aren’t actually looking for him. No, you’re just floating around the venue in a daze when you hear his voice coming from a parlor to your right. Only a couple of dim lamps illuminate the interior, but you don’t bother to get a closer look as you recognize the other voice.

Margaret.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jungkook? You just met her this week? You made it sound like you’ve been pining over her for years-”

“That’s because I have!” Jungkook hisses, the sound slithering out into the hallway. “I have, but she’s always just out of reach…”

“And what, you thought tonight would do the trick? Kook…look, you know I love you, but this is idiocy. She’s practically engaged to Jung Hoseok-”

“Jung Hoseok doesn’t know what he has, he’s never understood! I am the only one that really gets it, Margaret.”

“Yeah, well just because you get it Jungkook doesn’t mean you get her.”

There’s shuffling inside the room, causing you to back away into a dark corner to remain unseen. After a moment, Jungkook’s voice rings out again. This time, it’s a bit ragged, almost letting you taste the desperation in his tone.

“Margaret, please. I just- I just need time. Please, just give me more time.”

A pause, followed by a heavy sigh. “Fine. I hate you.”

“Love you, too.”

You’ve just managed to scamper around the corner when the door open and a little light floods out into the dim hallway. The sound of heels walking in the opposite direction of your hiding spot alerts you to Margaret’s retreat, making you wonder what exactly she has planned in order to allot Jungkook more time.

Once a couple of minutes that feel like eternity pass, you sneak out around the corner. Heart pounding and palms sweaty, you stare up at the ceiling as though you’ll find an answer there.

What are you even doing?

Before the answer comes you’re schooling your features into cool indifference and walking slowly toward the open door. It’s easy enough to spot Jungkook in the parlor, sitting with his head in his hands on the chaise.

You rap on the door, leaning against the doorframe as Jungkook’s head shoots up. The panic at your appearance doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you pretend you haven’t noticed.

“I leave for two seconds and suddenly you’re sulking in an abandoned room?” You chide. “You much be more attached to me than I thought.”

Jungkook’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I was just taking a breather. We danced a lot, didn’t we?”

“True.” You stare at him from across the room, thinking back on Margaret’s words. Jungkook has been waiting around for you for long enough. “Tell me, Jungkook,” you stride inside, taking up the seat opposite him. “How come I never ran into you before this week? You’ve been around Hoseok for nearly three years at this point, haven’t you?”

Jungkook nods, his wide eyes completely disintegrating the dangerous persona he radiated earlier. “Yeah, almost three years. We’ve…crossed paths a few times, I think.”

You frown. “We have?”

“Only a handful of times,” Jungkook quickly reassures you, and the fact that he doesn’t want you to feel bad about not remembering him has you only growing more confused. Didn’t you just hate him half an hour ago? “We never spoke much.”

“Oh.”

Words – none of which amount to full sentences – rattle around your brain as you strive to come up with something more to say. Your brain is breaking down, information overload finally getting the best of you.

“Should we go back?” Jungkook asks in a small voice. Who even is the man, to change demeanors so quickly? “There’s still a lot of dancing left to do.” He adds a wink in at the end, regaining a bit of his swagger with every word.

Suddenly the memory of Hoseok’s conflicted face comes back to you, and you scramble to your feet. “No! Uh, I mean…” you look around the room but find nothing to help you. “I need to be more careful. I’ve been careless enough tonight.”

Jungkook frowns, almost getting on his feet. “What’s wrong? Did…did Hoseok say something to you?” When you don’t respond, Jungkook lets out a dry laugh. “Of course he did. Let me guess, he grabbed you as soon as you left my side, right? Jealous little-”

“Jungkook!” You gasp, stalking out of the room as he follows close behind. “He just wanted to protect our image, that’s all.”

“Ha! Really, that’s all? Sweetheart, has anyone ever told you just how oblivious you can be?”

“Ugh, just when I was starting to hate you less.”

“I’m serious! Sure, he might have said something about being careful, for your reputations. But that’s all just a cover-up! Can’t you see?”

The ballroom is just up ahead, and you make a beeline for it. “I see just fine, thank you very much. However, I wish I could’ve seen just how horrible tonight would be with you! I would have never agreed to that stupid bet!”

Speeding up, Jungkook jogs up in front of you to block your path. You step to your right, which he mimics. To the left, and again, he’s there to stop you.

“Let me through!”

Jungkook glares down at you, a fire blazing in his eyes. It reminds you of a dying star, some sort of supernova exploding in those galaxy irises. “No.”

“No?” You push against his chest, scowling when he doesn’t budge. “Jungkook, I’m too tired to play this game. Move aside.”

“Dance with me.”

He says it with such seriousness that you almost agree. “I already said that I can’t.”

“Please.” Bottom lip disappearing between his teeth, Jungkook’s shoulders slump. “C’mon, we’ll go where no one can see us.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

Chuckling half-heartedly, Jungkook extends a hand. “I have plenty of them, trust me.”

~~

What started as one bad idea has turned into multiple.

Jungkook took you outside to some lonely balcony that wraps around the building. The doors are thrust open, allowing for some light as he takes you in his arms.

The music drifts up to where you sway, and you wonder how Jungkook even found this spot. It’s not far from the ballroom, but certainly not a common spot for people to wander off to. You ask him as much.

“I stumbled upon it when you sent me on all those dumb errands,” he explains, smiling lazily at you.

You chuckle, stifling a gasp as Jungkook spins you around. Once you’re nestled safely in his arms, you grin up at him. “I knew those would come in handy.”

It feels like whiplash, going through so many emotions tonight. You were set on loathing Jungkook for the rest of eternity until he managed to snag one of the chocolate fountains from the kitchens and bring it out here. A platter of strawberries sits off to the side, begging to be dipped and eaten.

“Strawberry?” Jungkook questions quietly, already reaching for one. You hum in confirmation.

A second later Jungkook is dipping it with an absurd amount of chocolate and bringing it to your lips. Your cheeks flush, but you tentatively open your mouth, awaiting the delicious-

“Hey!” You swat at Jungkook when he bops your nose with the strawberry, covering you in chocolate. He laughs merrily, throwing his head back at the stars before focusing on you.

“You look adorable,” he coos. “Here, eat.” Again he prods the strawberry at your lips, catching your hand in his as you go to clean off your nose. “Eat, I’ll get the chocolate off your nose in just a second. Patience.”

You roll your eyes, but allow him to feed the strawberry to you. At the first crunch and flood of sweet flavor, you close your eyes and ball up your fists into his suit jacket.

“Ah, so good.”

When you open your eyes again, Jungkook is frozen before you. His eyes alight on your lips, tongue wetting his own, following the way you lick up the extra chocolate. Then he looks at your nose, a forgotten smile on his face.

“Here,” he mumbles, reaching out to swipe the bit of chocolate from your nose. Without a second’s hesitation he brings it to his lips and devours it.

All is quiet. The music sounds more distant that ever, the dull chatter of tonight’s guests hardly registering in your brain as Jungkook’s eyes never leave your own.

Something stirs deep within you, something that goes much deeper than attraction or desire. Something stronger than the anger you felt earlier sparks in the pit of your chest, making you shiver.

The spot where Jungkook touched your nose tingles, and you wonder for a moment if it somehow looks different now. His touch lingers, the feeling sprouting something entirely new.

Jungkook continues to sway with you, the movement as singular as breathing. When he opens his mouth to whisper something to you, you can’t help but listen to every syllable that falls from his lips.

“I…I want you to feel when you’re with me,” he whispers. “I’m not picky. It can be any emotion. But I’ve seen you, how you are with him.” You flinch at the mention of Hoseok, but Jungkook holds you tighter and pushes through. “You’re empty around him. You play the game easily enough, but there’s nothing behind those words. I want you to feel.”

“Jungkook…”

“I know. I know how I sound. But this is all I have to give you, and I thought that if I could just get you to feel something again, it might be worth it.”

You find yourself drawing closer to him, some sort of unknown gravity pulling you together like a moon caught in his orbit. That’s what you are, aren’t you? Completely helpless, thrown into someone’s orbit and hoping that they notice you. Hasn’t that the way it’s always been, ever since you first laid eyes on Hoseok?

But Jungkook notices you. You know, just from the way his eyes widen as though trying to take more of you in, you know that you’re all he sees. He’s blinded, for some reason or another. Blinded by you, enthralled by your silent suffering and digging ceaselessly for a way out. There’s no doubt in your mind at this moment that he’d carry you far away from here if you just said the word.

How your hands wound up clinging to the nape of his neck, you’re not sure. Just as surprising is the painful tone of your voice as you cry out, "Jungkook, this is no way to live."

His hands are at your back, pressing you closer and closer. "I will live like this for as long as you want, darling.”

“Like what?” Are those tears rushing to your eyes? Too many emotions in such a short amount of time, you can’t keep up. It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything so intense. When was the last time? Perhaps there never was a time such as this. “Hiding away from everyone? Looking over your shoulder every second of every day, wondering when it’ll all fall apart?”

“I can live off of these stolen moments,” Jungkook whispers in awe, gently wiping away your tears. “I’ve been doing that for years. But I don’t know what you want, darling. Tell me what you want.”

“Jungkook,” you wriggle in his grasp, suddenly needing to get away, to breathe, “Jungkook, he’ll find out- we can’t do this. What even is this? I can’t…I don’t even know you!”

He lets you go, allowing you walk toward the edge of the balcony as you greedily gulp down air. After a moment, he speaks up.

“You’re feeling again, aren’t you?”

It’s a silly question. It sounds like he’s addressing a child, but it hits a little too close to home.

Feelings, thoughts, desperation and something deep and exciting courses through you. Yes. Yes, you’re feeling. “Yes. But who says I can’t feel with him?”

Jungkook is silent for a moment. “Who says it can’t be me, instead?” He strides toward you, your heart hammering as he gently cups your cheeks. Stars must cry because his eyes are shiny with tears. Gently, so gently your knees nearly buckle, he caresses your cheek with his thumb.

Smiling sadly, Jungkook whispers, “I love you.” He takes a shaky breath. “I always have. From afar, so I don’t know if that counts in your book. I loved you before we shared a conversation. I loved you the second I first overheard you talking to that unnamed painting on the third floor of the gallery back home. You know the one, don’t you?”

You’re not sure he fully expects an answer as he leans closer, which is all the better as you’re completely unable to provide him with one.

“I love you,” he repeats, wide eyes dropping to your lips. “I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I wake up to you every morning.”

As his lips first graze your own, you remember him.

Countless times, that how often you’ve seen him. Passed him in the hallway of the gallery, trailing behind a busy Hoseok. Offering you a shy, sweet smile which you immediately assumed was meant for someone else.

He seemed to good, too kind for you.

But here he is, lips pressed gently to yours with a promise hanging in the air.

He asks for nothing in return.

When he finally pulls away, you gaze up at him with teary eyes. “Why?”

He knows what you’re asking. Why would he bare his heart and soul to you when he knows you’re promised to another? When you’ve never acknowledged his existence before?

Jungkook shrugs, then leans in for a short peck. He pulls back, allowing you to see the stars in his eyes.

“You deserved to hear it, at least once.”

~~

Two Months Later

You have not heard those three words since, and you wonder if you ever will again. Glancing at Hoseok who peers down into the glass case, you don’t think you will. Hoseok will never love you.

He has you. He always has, you’ve been a constant in his life. What’s there to love about convenience?

He’s saying something to the jeweler, but the words are muffled. That’s how it’s been recently. People talk so much, but you hardly hear a thing. They so rarely say anything that matters.

Jungkook has been gone, still working to replace Hoseok, but off on business trips that you know aren’t necessary. Last you heard, Hoseok had sent him off to Mongolia on a wild goose chase for some long-lost painting. Chances are he wouldn’t be back for months.

Staring at the rings below you, you know that by then, it’ll be too late.

Hoseok is planning on proposing soon. You’re not exactly sure when, but it’ll be within a few weeks now. Perhaps sooner, you can’t tell.

When you leave the jeweler’s, Hoseok’s hand finds yours. He gives it a soft squeeze, but you can’t find quite enough strength to reciprocate the feeling.

He doesn’t comment on it.

In fact, the two of you hardly exchange two words until much later that evening when you dine together. It’s in his parent’s mansion, one of several. This is the one you’re meant to inherit upon getting married. The dining room is a bit too dark for your liking, but under the current circumstances, you bask in the shadows.

Hoseok is late to dinner. An uncommon thing, but you brush it off, quietly greeting him as he takes up his place across from you. When he doesn’t respond, you look up.

He’s already staring at you, but that’s not what sends a chill through your bones.

He’s looking at you with that sniper-like concentration that you only saw once before. It’s terrifying to be on the other side of that gaze; something you had hoped to never encounter.

“What’s wrong?” You mean to sound more caring, but the question comes out flat. Hoseok chews on his lip before releasing it.

He’s kissed you since the gala. He did as soon as the two of you boarded the plane, away from prying eyes.

It had been rushed and desperate, and you’d been shocked into stepping back, breaking the kiss sooner than he intended.

You’d stepped back and bumped into Jungkook, who gently caught you. Hoseok merely smiled warmly and explained that he thought you two were alone. Jungkook didn’t say a word.

Hoseok holds up a letter, unfolding it. “You received a letter today,” he responds. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

You frown, reaching out a hand but he’s too far away. “No, I’ll read it later-”

“My darling, I only just now found a post office that sends international letters. I apologize from the bottom of my heart, I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten you.” Hoseok peeks at you from over the letter, arching an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me you enjoyed pet names. Let’s see what else my apprentice has to say, shall we?”

“Hoseok-”

“Hold that thought,” Hoseok pulls a candle that burns in the center of the table closer to him, hovering the letter just above the flame. “Let’s continue. Something tells me that we’re just getting to the good part.”

“I hope this letter finds you before the wedding, although I can’t be sure. This post office looks a little sketchy, but it’s my best bet. Love, I told you once that I could live off of stolen moments. I can, I do. But I’m tired of begged and borrowed time at your side. Once was not enough.”

“How sweet. I never realized he had such a way with words.” Hoseok sighs wistfully, making you shudder.

“Run away with me, darling. Meet me in Italy, at the gallery. Come up with any excuse you possibly can – just find me. I’ll try to do my best to find a way out of this place, and I’ll wait for you every day. From open to close, I’ll be there. If you don’t come by the end of April, I’ll know that you decided to go forward with the marriage and I wish you all the happiness in the world. Just don’t forget: I love you. Wow, that was beautiful, wasn’t it? Who knew Jungkook was such a poet?”

Hoseok sighs again, meeting your horrified gaze. In one swift movement, he lets the bottom corner of the letter catch the flame. Smoke curls into the air, and you scramble to your feet.

“Hoseok!” You lunge for the letter, knocking over the candle in the process. With a shriek, you watch as the candle drops to the rug and catches fire. Rushing over, you begin to stomp out the flames.

“Let it burn,” Hoseok mumbles, still staring at the burning letter in his hands. “I always wanted to burn this house to the ground. It seems fitting to do so now.”

“You’ve lost your mind!” You shout, turning toward him once the rug is extinguished and snapping the letter from his hands. The flames bite as your fingertips, the letter unsalvageable. Hissing, you throw it into the fireplace.

“You know what?” Hoseok rises to his feet. “I think I will burn it down. Maybe move into one of those cramped apartments in the city. What do you think?”

“Hoseok, you’re not thinking straight. Let’s talk about this.”

His smile is melancholy, but for a moment his eyes clear up and you catch a glimpse of the Hoseok you’ve known for twelve years.

“Don’t you have packing to do?” With a shrug he adds, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“I-“ you stop mid-step. A series of choices flash before your eyes, but all you can see if Hoseok and the out he’s offering you.

Perhaps he wants to get out of this as much as you do.

As you pound up the stairs and begin to throw anything you can find into your bag, you realize that you may never know. You never did get to know the real Hoseok. His thoughts and inner feelings have remained a mystery to you.

When you rush out the door a few minutes later, Hoseok is already leaning against his car. There’s another car parked beside it, and he tosses you the keys. There are no parting words, no longing stares as he marches forward and strikes a match against the side of the house. Without fanfare, he tosses the flame inside the mansion. You watch with unabashed awe as he strides back to his car and hops in. There’s a small bag in the back, certainly not enough to hold his precious belongings.

Hoseok gives you a curt nod, tearing out of the driveway.

You’re gone before the sound of sirens cuts through the air.

~~

The Accademia Gallery is packed today, more so than you’ve ever seen it before. Of course, the main attraction is The David. Tourists crowd around, trying to find the best angle to take a photo, grinning widely.

All of them except for one, who stares up at the sculpture with a keen eye. His dark brown hair is shorter than it was a few months ago when he stood in a similar position.

“Jungkook!”

Somehow, amidst the din of the crowd, he hears you. The stars in his eyes are bright as he turns around, acting as a beacon as you push through the crowd. They gleam and sparkle, rivaled only by the wide smile that overtakes his features. Those eyes, so dangerous yet so lovely. They invite you to get lost in them, to dance under Jungkook’s galaxy.

This time, you think you will.

~~

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[secretpajamas]

Undercover– a Marcus Pike fic

pairing: Agent Marcus Pike x female reader

genre: smut/humor/coworkers-to-lovers

rating: explicit

words: 3.7k

a/n: you don’t need to have seen The Mentalist to read this fic (but I do recommend watching Pedro’s episodes, he’s SO perfect in this role)! All you need to know is that Marcus Pike is an FBI agent working for the Art Theft department. Scroll down to the end to “content” if you want to know specific smut content before reading :)

–

So far, the operation had been a bust; you had hoped to catch the reclusive money-laundering gallery owner at the fundraiser event tonight, but he hadn’t shown. After conceding defeat, you and Agent Pike slipped into one of the roped-off side rooms in the museum to discuss a way forward.

You felt incredibly uncomfortable in your attire for the night: a silky slip of a dress that showed far more skin than you were accustomed to showing. But this was a “trendy” look, supposedly, and you were masquerading as art critics at this stupid event. Your FBI-issued handgun was concealed in a hidden panel in your purse and you hated not having it on your hip in your trusty uniform holster. You hated everything about this outfit. The fact that you had to youtube “how to apply an adhesive bra” just to wear this godforsaken dress tonight—

“You alright?” Pike asked, looking at you with a furrowed brow. You realized your face was scrunched up in a scowl, thinking about your goddamned flimsy bra, which had thankfully stayed on the whole night so far.

“Yeah,” you said, “just yearning for my uniform right now.”

“Tell me about it,” Pike said, gesturing to his outfit. “I’m wearing skinny jeans.”

It was decidedly not his style. You usually saw him in business casual or his FBI uniform. When you met on the weekends for coffee, he’d wear a leather jacket—and as far as you could tell, that was as adventurous as he got when it came to fashion. Skinny jeans? Not Marcus Pike, not in a million years. (But he did have nice legs, you had to admit.)

“So, our friend hasn’t shown,” you said, changing the subject to more pressing matters.

“I had a feeling,” Pike muttered. “Back to the drawing board, I guess.”

“Well, it was worth a shot,” you said with a sigh. “Let’s call it a night.”

Suddenly, Pike tensed, his face paling. You took a breath, about to ask him what was wrong, when he whispered harshly:

“Someone’s coming.”

You jumped when you heard it: footsteps sounding from the hallway where you came in. You whipped your head around, looking for another way out, but the only other exit was a door that read ‘EMERGENCY EXIT – ALARM WILL SOUND’.

Shit.

“I’m sorry about this,” Pike said in a rush, bracketing himself around you, effectively pinning you to the nearby wall, in between two paintings. “Just play along.”

“Sorry for wha—”

Then he kissed you.

Marcus Pike kissed you.

You froze. What the fuck was he doing? How was this supposed to help? What was this—

Your train of thought was interrupted by his thigh wedging its way between your legs, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine and making a filthy noise tumble from your throat, unbidden.

“Good,” he whispered, mouthing kisses along your neck. “Louder.”

You moaned again at his words, not really understanding why. Just play along, he had said. Whatever the hell that meant.

Suddenly, a booming voice rang out. “This section is CLOSED!”

Pike jumped away from you. You snapped to attention, head whipping around to see a familiar face: one of the lackeys of the corrupt museum owner stood some distance away, a blinding flashlight trained on you. You’d seen this man on surveillance footage in your briefing this week. He was the muscle. Usually the very armed muscle. Shit.

“S-sorry,” Pike said, his voice suddenly meek, that of a geeky art critic and not a federal agent. He raised a hand to scratch the back of his head, making a big fuss of the movement, while the other hand subtly reached behind him, hovering near where his gun was covertly tucked in the back of his belt. “My girlfriend and I—”

“Section’s closed!” He barked, gesturing with his flashlight. “Get a room.”

You felt your stomach drop back into place. He just thinks we’re horny artists. Thank god.

“Sorry, sir,” Pike said, taking you by the hand and making a swift exit.

–

You didn’t speak a word to each other as you scurried out of the gallery and into the side street where Pike had parked. He rummaged in his jacket pocket for his keyfob and frantically pressed at it until his car’s headlights flashed up ahead. Once you were inside, you put your head in your hands and let out a huge breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Holy shit,” you rasped.

Pike didn’t respond, just methodically put on his seatbelt, started the car, and drove away. At the next red light, Pike reached over and buckled you in. You were so out of it that you had forgot.

“Thanks,” you said, voice a little more steady than it was previously.

“I’m sorry about what happened back there,” he said, eyes on the road.

“Uh, me too? I thought we were done for,” you said. You thought you were going to get shot, but you didn’t dare say it.

Pike shook his head. “I mean, I’m sorry I kissed you. It wasn’t right.”

“What are you apologizing for? You saved our asses.”

“By assaulting you? Yeah, great job I did,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you didn’t assault me, Pike. It was... surprising, but I wasn’t upset.” Quite the opposite, actually.

Pike gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly—you could hear the fake leather squeak against his hands. “Nevertheless, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You sighed. “Seriously, I’m okay. Stop getting in your head.”

He didn’t seem totally convinced, but he didn’t protest any further. You sat in silence for the rest of the car ride.

–

“This is you,” Pike said when he turned onto your street, gesturing with his head towards your apartment building. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was in a considerably nicer neighborhood than your first DC apartment, that’s for sure.

“Indeed it is,” you confirmed.

Pike parked his car and turned off the ignition. He still looked like a kicked puppy—god, he wasn’t still worried about the kiss, was he?

Fuck it. You’d been working with the man for nearly two years now, and at this point, you considered him a good friend. You never felt judged when you confided in him.  Why not just be honest?

“I liked it,” you said, oddly calm.

Pike’s face scrunched up. “Huh?”

“The kiss,” you said, and now your heartbeat was starting to ratchet up. “I liked it.”

His eyes widened. “Oh,” he said, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you replied. “You can... do it for real, if you want.”

Pike looked at you silently, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your mouth.

The adrenaline from earlier in the night must have been fueling your courage, because you soldiered on. “Do you want to come in?”

–

Pike followed you wordlessly to your apartment, the tension so heavy in the air you thought you might suffocate. With shaking fingers, you managed to unlock the door and flick on the lights.

As soon as the door closed behind Pike, he held you by the waist and kissed you soundly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said when he pulled away.

“We kissed like, an hour ago—”

“A real kiss,” he specified, bringing one hand to cup your cheek. He brushed his thumb along your lower lip like it was something precious. He kissed you again, just a soft press of lips, ever the gentleman. You thought about his thigh between your legs earlier that night and god, you wanted that again. You kissed him back, firm and insistent, curling your fingers in his hair.

When you gave his hair a gentle tug, his whole body seemed to shiver, and his kiss became more daring—his tongue in your mouth, his hands inching down, down, stopping just shy of your ass.

Suddenly, he pulled away from the kiss. “I should go,” he said—but the tone of his voice made you doubt that he wanted to leave.

“What’s the matter?” You asked.

“I’m moving too fast,” he said with a wistful smile.

“I’m the one who invited you in, Pike,” you said.

“Fair point,” he said. He let his hand rest on your waist again, his fingers stroking the silky material of your dress. “It’s just—I haven’t done this in a while. Not with someone I... care about.”

Oh. You knew what this was about. Teresa, the woman he was with just before he moved to DC. They were supposed to get married, but she left him for another man. You didn’t know much beyond that, but he had told you enough—that he felt he moved too fast and scared her away.

“If you want to stop now, I get it,” you said. “But I’m here to tell you I’m not going anywhere. I’ve waited two years, I can wait some more.”

You didn’t realize the weight of your words until after they left your mouth. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to know you’d had doe-eyes for him since the day you joined the Art Theft squad. You looked down at the floor, anywhere but his face right now.

“Two years?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“But—what about that guy you dated from Quantico?”

“He was a nice distraction,” you said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked.

You didn’t respond for a moment. Slowly, you looked back up from the floor to his face. His features were kind and reassuring. You took a deep breath. “Well, I’m saying it now,” you said.

He smiled. “Let’s make up for lost time, then,” he said, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you in for another kiss.

–

After kissing you breathless, you lead him by the hand to your bedroom. He went with you eagerly, and when you sat on the edge of your bed, he followed suit.

You pushed at the lapels of his tweed jacket, getting it off his arms and onto the floor. He reached behind you, searching for your dress zipper. He found it, grinning triumphantly for a moment before pulling the zipper down. The dress fell off your shoulders, revealing—

Oh god, that fucking adhesive bra.

“I’m sorry,” Pike said, sounding utterly baffled, “What is this thing?”

You laughed. “You’re asking me? I had to consult the internet just to put the damn thing on.”

“How is it on?”

“Adhesive,” you said.

“Do you just... rip it off? Like a bandaid?” Pike said.

“I guess?” You replied, picking at it with your fingernail. A corner of it peeled off without much force. Damn, it was flimsy.

You peeled it off the rest of the way and chucked it across the room. “Good riddance.”

Pike laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Here I was thinking skinny jeans were a pain,” he said.

“To be fair, those do look a little tight,” you said.

“They are. My dick hurts.” He winced, reaching down to adjust himself. “Too much information?”

You rolled your eyes. “My tits are out, Marcus, I think you’re good.”

At the mention of them, Pike was suddenly gazing at your breasts—as if he hadn’t realized he was allowed to look. He tentatively reached out and cupped one, stroking at it gently with his thumb. You sighed, arching your back. He ran his hand from your breast to your arm, where the strap of your dress had fallen. He dragged the strap down, and with a little wiggling from you, managed to get your dress on the floor, leaving you only in your underwear.

“You have way too many clothes on,” you said, working at the buttons of his shirt. He nodded, helping you get it unbuttoned the rest of the way before shrugging it off. Pike then reached for his jeans, sighing in relief as he popped the button of his fly and dragged the zipper down.

“These fucking jeans,” he grumbled, wriggling his hips back and forth as he peeled the denim off his legs. When he finally got them off, they took his socks with them. He kicked the heap of clothing into the corner, landing somewhere near your dress and that flimsy piece of foam masquerading as a woman’s foundational garment.

Now it was your turn to stare. From the plane of his chest, to his soft belly, to his straining hard-on in his gray boxer-briefs—he was beautiful, and you didn’t know what you wanted to touch first. The outline of his cock was the most tempting, though, and you slowly ran a hand up his thigh, stopping just short of where he was hard and aching.

“Please,” he said in a hushed tone, hitching his hips up just a little. You brushed your hand over his bulge, feather-light at first. Then you pressed a little more firmly, slowly dragging your palm against him. He groaned, hands gripping the bedcovers tightly.

Feeling bold, you got off the bed, kneeling in front of him. You tugged at the waistband of his boxers and he lifted his hips, letting you pull them down and off.

You delighted in the sight of his thick cock jutting up against his belly, the tip pink and glistening. God, you wanted him. You leaned forward and licked a hot stripe from root to tip, and the noise he made was so exquisite you could cry. Taking a light hold with your hand, you guided him into your mouth.

“Ah, fuck!” His hips jerked up off the bed, but you quickly held them down. You took him in as far as you could, and he moaned again—louder, more desperate. You found a rhythm, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks, your hand wrapped around what your mouth couldn’t reach. Pike offered a tentative hand to stroke your hair with reverence, his hips trembling with the effort not to move too roughly.

After a particularly sly maneuver with your tongue, Pike tensed and stilled your head with a gentle touch.

“If you don’t stop now,” he said between ragged breaths of air, “this’ll be over before it even starts.”

You pulled off of him slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Sorry,” you said, your voice light and teasing.

“Don’t be,” he replied. “Fuck, that was good.”

You couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride at the praise from him.

Pike patted the bed next to him. “Get up here so I can return the favor.”

You crawled up the bed, heart hammering and head dizzy with excitement. He motioned for you to lie back and you did so, taking a deep breath to try and still your racing pulse.

Pike propped himself up on his elbows and slowly kissed a path down your thigh. Your cunt throbbed in anticipation and you bucked your hips up, desperately seeking sensation. He smiled at your eagerness and held your hip down with one hand. With the other, he pushed the sodden gusset of your panties to the side and slowly slid a thick finger inside of you.

You let out a needy sound, clenching around him as he added a second finger. You were so wet that the movement of his fingers made loud, slick noises that were absolutely obscene.

Pike kissed your thigh again. “Gorgeous,” he murmured against your skin. He then pulled his fingers out of you and you whined at the loss.

“Need to get these off,” Pike explained, hooking his fingers into the elastic of your underwear and pulling them down and off.

Pike’s face was between your thighs, now, and you sobbed at the first touch of his tongue to your clit. He slid his fingers back inside your cunt and the jolt of pleasure was like a lightning strike.

“Please,” you begged, not sure what you were asking, but needing it all the same, “please.”

You moaned loudly as he lapped at you ever-so-slowly with the flat of his tongue in time to the rhythm of his fingers. His unoccupied hand moved from your hip to your hand, lacing your fingers together. You squeezed his hand tightly as you found yourself already dancing dangerously close to the edge.

You started to grind your cunt against his tongue, needing the pressure just so, and he eagerly let you use his mouth for your pleasure. He alternated between licking and sucking on your clit, and you were so fucking close that you could hardly stand it.

Pike pulled his mouth off you for a moment. You whined and tilted your hips up, trying to chase his tongue.

“Close?” He asked, keeping the rhythm of his fingers firm and steady inside of you.

You didn’t trust your mouth to form words, so you nodded vigorously. He got back to work, faster this time, relentless, and the heat in your belly coiled tighter and tighter until you were coming so hard you saw stars. Your thighs clamped like a vise around his head but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest, working you through your orgasm with his tongue and fingers.

You clenched around him through every aftershock. He pressed a final little kiss on your thigh before pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets.

Gazing into his warm brown eyes, breathing with him in tandem, it took you a minute to realize something.

“Oh, fuck,” you said. “Condom.”

You wondered if you still had any in your bathroom cabinet from when you were still with your ex, but it had been a long time since you’d broken up. Shit.

Pike snapped to attention. “Yeah, um,” he started, hopping off the bed to retrieve his jacket, “think I have one in my wallet.”

He rummaged around in his jacket pocket, retrieving his wallet and rifling through it.

“Gotcha,” he proclaimed. He turned the foil packet around in his hands, looking for the expiration date. “And it’s still good.”

“Hallelujah,” you remarked, throwing your head back in relief. “Get over here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pike said, making his way back to you. He knelt on the bed as he ripped open the wrapper and rolled on the condom.

Settling between your legs, he took himself in hand and rubbed at your swollen cunt before easing himself inside. You gasped at the feeling of him fully seated inside you, the delicious stretch of it achingly perfect. After a moment, he ground his hips into yours, moving out barely an inch before rocking back in. You scratched at the expanse of his back and shoulders, hitching up your hips, urging him to move.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he whispered, fucking you slow and deep. You made keening little noises with every thrust, unable to help it. You felt so full.

Pike began to move faster, now, his kisses swallowing up your sobbing cries. The sweet ache in your belly was building up again, and the moment you thought you would tumble over the edge, he slowed his pace. You groaned in frustration, gyrating your hips, needing him to fuck you, damnit, but it felt too fucking good to complain.

When Pike slipped out of you, though, you definitely wanted to complain. However, all that came out was a petulant huff. He just chuckled and urged you to lie on your side. Slotting behind you, he guided himself back inside of you before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. The new angle was heaven and you writhed in his arms, feeling him absolutely everywhere.

He snaked a hand down to rub your clit while he fucked you, faster now. You cried out and grasped at his arms for something to ground you, something to keep you connected to reality, because this felt so fucking good it very well could have been a dream.

“I’m—P-Pike—Marcus, I’m gonna—” You found yourself babbling, barely coherent.

“I’ve got you,” he said, the low rumble of his voice warm in your ear as he worked at your swollen little clit. That was it; you were shaking apart, trembling as he fucked you through your orgasm. The muscles of your cunt fluttered around him, every nerve in your body on fire.

Pike’s movements were becoming more erratic. Every thrust was harder than the last, and he moved his hand to grasp at your hip as he rutted into you frantically. You squeezed down on his cock, wanting to push him over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck!” He lasted a few more desperate thrusts before he was coming, too, biting into the skin of your shoulder and holding you tightly to him.

You both stayed there for a while, breathing heavily, all fucked-out and blissful. You nestled closer into him and he hummed into your shoulder.

“Be right back,” Pike mumbled, holding himself at the base and easing his cock out of you. You sighed at the feeling of emptiness—part of you wished he could just stay there all night.

As you stretched out on your bed, he shuffled off into your bathroom. You heard the tap run for a moment before he returned, condom off—presumably in the trash—and a damp washcloth in hand.

The press of the cool washcloth felt good on your hot and throbbing cunt; he then wiped down your thighs, where an embarrassing amount of your slick had dribbled down.

“Thank you,” you murmured as you looked up at him. He kissed your cheek.

It was bugging you, and you couldn’t help but ask. “You tied the condom off and threw it out, right?”

Pike raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” He said. “What, did Quantico not tie them off first?”

“Worse,” you grumbled, “he flushed them.”

Pike snorted. “That’s a new one on me.”

“Had to call a goddamn plumber,” you continued.

“Please tell me at least the sex was good.”

“It was awful,” you groaned. “You should have kissed me sooner.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll make up for it.”

“You better, Agent Pike,” you teased before giving him a peck on the lips.

He was having none of that; he pulled you in for a proper kiss. “I will,” he said, “I promise.”

–

a/n: well, it turns out I’m eternally a sucker for the undercover-as-a-couple trope.

original prompt from @lannister-slings-and-arrows​! Thank you my dear :)

And in case you’re curious: Marcus Pike gets called Agent Pike way more often than he gets called Marcus in the show, so that’s what I went with here. And FYI, Quantico is the county in Virginia where the FBI training academy is. Just a fun little detail.

content: surprise kiss (“fakeout makeout”), oral sex (m and f), missionary, cuddle-fucking (spoon-fucking? side-fucking? whatever you’d like to call it lol)

[maxismatchccworld]

Patch Notes

Update 06/03/2020 PC: 1.63.133.1020 / Mac: 1.63.133.1220 Console: Version 1.25

The Sims 4 Eco Lifestyle Expansion Pack drops in just a mere few days, and since we know that living your best Eco Lifestyle can take a little extra elbow grease, we’ve added some exciting quality-of-life improvements to help pave the way.

Between Inventory updates, new CAS assets from a surprise partnership with M·A·C, the return of two beloved NPCs, as well as some really cool new Build features, we hope you enjoy the update.

-SimGuruJill & SimGuruRusskii

NEW & IMPROVED FEATURES

INVENTORY UPDATES

Fellow hoarders, this one’s for you: We have updated the Sim Inventory with the ability to Filter, Sort, Favorite, Multi-Select, and Multi-Sell in one easy flick of the wrist. Managing that cumbersome pile of collectables you’ve been racking up for the past five years has never been so easy!

FREE PLACEMENT OF DOORS AND WINDOWS

Following in true Eco Lifestyle fashion, Door and Window placement is now also Off-the-Grid. But not that kind of grid. The limiting kind of tile grid that used to keep you from placing your windows and doors precisely where you wanted them. By holding down the Alt key while dragging, you can enjoy the smooth sensations of free Door and Window placement.

LADDERS

Ladders have been added as part of the Build System. Find your free Classic Wooden Ladder in the Build catalog in the Stairs (& Ladders) category. Unlike Island Living’s Dock and Ladder objects for use on water lots, these Ladders can be placed anywhere on your lot and like stairs, they can be used as a means for Sims to traverse from one floor to another.

M·A·C COSMETICS

Did you say you needed some fresh looks for your Sims? We’ve collaborated with none other than M·A·C Cosmetics to bring you 12 fashion-forward makeup assets suited for everything from everyday to night out glam. If you’re not already using it, on PC and Mac we recommend trying out the “Uncompressed Sim Textures” setting in the Options Menu, which is now enabled by default on the High and Ultra graphics settings profiles in order to see these looks really shine. While console versions of The Sims 4 do not have the setting in the Options Menu, each console spec is automatically using the optimal graphical settings based on system resources.

REPO PERSON NPC

The Repo Person NPC has graduated with honors from Discover University’s University of Britechester with a Degree in Villainy and has comfortably taken up residence in Base Game. Now everyone can taste their wrath if Bill payments fall behind.

BILLS UPDATE

Speaking of Bills, we’ve added a cohesive breakdown of Sim’s Bills information that can be accessed via an interaction on the Mailbox or Phone. Now instead of lumping everything together, you can see what percentage of your Bills go to Water, what percentage go to Power, insight into any Fees, Reductions, or Penalties. All this and more, calculated and cleanly presented for your finer understanding.

LEGACY NEIGHBORHOOD MAP TAGS

We have gone back and added Map Tags with Neighborhood Descriptions to existing neighborhoods that didn’t yet have them. We now have delightful icons, names, and descriptions for the no-longer-forgotten Willow Creek, Oasis Springs, Newcrest, and Windenburg. Ok, feel free to freak out now.

OFF-THE-GRID UPDATES

This one is tricky to list out in a single paragraph with attempted wit, so I’ll just drop this bullet list off right here:

The Off-the-Grid Lot Trait now ties into our new Bill updates, drawing from Water and Power utility. Without excess utility, lots function off-the-grid as they did before. With excess utility, they function more like an on-the-grid lot.

There is a new Off-the-Grid Build category that will allow players to find Off-the-Grid and survival-esque objects.

We've done a pass on candles to ensure they properly work when electricity is out.

Off-the-Grid supported Fridges now have an "Add Ice" interaction that will allow them to keep food preserved—so long as the ice remains!

Sim will now autonomously use stoves and fridges when Off-the-Grid, not just grills.

Harvestables now grant unique buffs when consumed off-the-grid.

Dogs and Toddlers now have a unique interaction to be bathed in Bathtubs even when Off-the-Grid.

Objects can now be cleaned using the "Use Elbow Grease" interaction. Yummy.

Players are able to gather Water utility from fishing spots in base game. With Island Living they can gather from the waterfall. Water can also be gathered from any world with swimmable 'ocean' water. With Seasons, water can be gathered from snow drifts.

Off-the-Grid specific buffs will now take into account motives and Sim traits when determining if a Sim should receive a positive or negative moodlet when living Off-the-Grid.

We've added multiple new recipes that can be cooked while Off-the-Grid given a Sim has the proper cooking skill level. Some recipes require special ingredients like the Boiling Frog Hot Pot—which adds a really neat survival element to off-the-grid gameplay, while providing Sims with powerful new moodlets that will help them survive in the wild.

NO TRESPASSING

Some people who have the Vampires Game Pack appreciate Vlad’s antics more than others. I personally love receiving a charming visit from Vlad, and sometimes I could really use a kind compliment about my neck. But we’ve heard there are a select few that don’t quite like having their Sim’s necks bitten and motives tanked by an invasive nighttime visitor with no respect for boundaries. Keep Vampires and other unwanted visitors at bay with a new No Trespassing interaction we’ve added to the Door.

SEND HOME INTERACTION

Speaking of unwelcome visitors, we’ve also added a new Send Home interaction that’s available on visiting NPCs or as a self-interaction in the case of multiple visitors. How is this interaction any different from Ask To Leave or Go Away, you might ask? Convenience. Unlike its less efficient predecessors, this interaction is nearly instantaneous and leaves your visitors with no hurt feelings or Relationship impact. We added it as a useful tool for players, not necessarily as a story-telling mechanism.

BUILD MODE ITEMS GRANT GAMEPLAY EFFECTS

How you build your lot can now affect your gameplay. Certain objects such as wall patterns, floor patterns, fences, and columns bring different gameplay modifiers. Some of these modifiers affect how your Bills and utilities are calculated by decreasing or increasing your Power or Water utility production or usage, as well increasing or decreasing the price of bills. Environment Score can now be impacted by certain objects and materials. Drywall walls without wall patterns applied now decrease environment score like they did in The Sims 3! The choice of floor and wall materials used can also affect the ability to spread fire or puddles at an increased or lessened rate. And if you’d rather build your lot without having to think about these things, don’t worry. There’s an Option in the Gameplay menu to turn all of this off.

FIREFIGHTER NPC

Oh hey, and speaking of Fire, that reminds me. Did you hear that we’ve added Firefighter NPCs to the game? We took nods from classic Firefighter NPC behavior from The Sims, The Sims 2, and The Sims 3 and added a few small twists for The Sims 4. When a fire breaks out, Firefighters will come automatically to your lot if you already have a Fire Alarm installed. That way, if you still like to let things burn baby burn, you can just “accidentally” forget to place a Fire Alarm. It’s okay. We won’t tell anybody. If you honestly did forget to place a Fire Alarm, you can call the Fire Department from the Phone or by clicking on the fire itself. If the Fire Department is called, but there is not an active fire, they will call you on your lapse in judgement and charge you a fine. You won’t be punished if there was legitimately a fire that was extinguished before they arrive though. The Firefighter Uniform can be accessed in CAS and gives any Sim wearing it the Fireproof Buff, which gives them some extra protection against fires as well as make them more efficient at putting out fires themselves. It’s worth noting that Firefighter NPC’s do not show up in Island Living’s Sulani. Sulani already has their local Fire Brigade to handle these kinds of emergencies and besides, who wants to wear all that heavy Firefighter gear in the tropics?

STYLED LOOKS FOR TOTS AND KIDS

More than 20 New Styled Looks have been added for Children and Toddlers, using existing Base Game CAS assets to better flesh out some outfit categories that previously felt sparse.

BALANCING PASS OF PHONE CALL INVITATIONS

After five years of Expansion Packs, Game Packs, and Stuff Packs our phone call invites were admittedly starting to get a little spammy. Moments after moving in, you’ve got Lucas Munch hitting you up, asking you to go to the Bluffs with him. Then not long after, you might have had Vivian Lewis asking you to join her at The Spice Festival. Jeez, let me get settled in first, why don’t ya? We’ve done a tuning pass to rebalance all of these previously competing Phone invites to give you a more meaningful and holistic experience.

LESS INVASIVE EARBUDS

In the same vein as the above balancing pass, we wanted to smooth out one of our more pressing notifications. The free earbuds pop-up that comes with Fitness Stuff has been changed to a more passive TNS and gifts your Sim the earbuds automatically when it triggers. The days of telling the game over and over that you don’t want free earbuds, or worse - hitting OK by accident - is a thing of the past.

CONSOLE UPDATES

Eco Lifestyle releasing on the same day across all platforms marks an important milestone for The Sims 4 as Simmers get to play the same content and share new creations on The Gallery together. In this update Console Simmers have a few additional features to improve their quality of life:

We have added a new Controls Overlay Reminder that shows up throughout CAS, Gallery, Live Mode and Build Mode which should make it easier for new Simmers to jump in and not need to remember all the controls.

If you don’t want to be reminded and you know all the controls by heart, you can turn off the Controls Overlay Reminder in the Game Options > Other menu

The controller overlay screens remain available for those who want them.

Now onto the fixes and updates:

The Sims 4

macOS players should no longer encounter the setLocale.zsh error. However, both Origin and TS4 must be up to date.

Sims will not have random accessories or clothing pieces when changing into towels.

Style Influencer Sims can now remove trends they have created, with the Reset Trend interaction.

Fixed an issue where Sims were not able to Care for Self after they had been in daycare when they were a Toddler.

Some roofs were updated to remove the appearance of black sides when placed on ceilings.

Active Sims will no longer get a Tense moodlet for lack of exercise when finishing exercising. Do you even push up bro?

Sims will no longer get the Fatigued moodlet immediately after starting a workout. Now, we know that endurance takes time to build, but we decided to give Sims a chance to enjoy their workout before being completely fatigued right away.

Child Sims will now be able to unlock the Video Gaming Skill after they have maxed out their Mental Skill instead of their Motor Skill, which was causing adult skills to reset for Child Sims when they completed aspirations.

Fixed an issue in which some Households did not have their names displayed in Manage Worlds.

Corrected requirements for completing the Great Landscaper task that is part of the Mansion Baron Aspiration.

Fixed an issue in which when utilities are shut off (either because of past due bills or Off-The-Grid) adding objects from Build Mode such as Lamps, would add them turned On.

The Water Pump, Fishing Holes, Romantic Garden’s Whispering Wishing Well, and Get Famous’s Luminary’s Exotic Water Garden now have the Gather Water interaction when the Off-the-Grid Lot Trait is applied.

Fixed an issue in which the Subtle Saucer Light was not being so subtle and made objects added from Build Mode be placed randomly when dragged near it.

Teen Sims will now see the appropriate tooltip when trying to acquire the Fertile Trait from the Rewards Store. No, they are not Robots.

Fixed an issue in which some Roof Eaves were clipping into enclosed blocks.

Fixed an issue in which the Clean Up interaction would drop off the queue if dirty dishes were placed on a counter.

Since we added a new trash bike to Eco Lifestyle, we’ve made the bicycle helmet available for everyone in CAS. Now you can outfit your Sim in a helmet, regardless of owning a pack that includes bikes.

Sims will now not receive occasional text messages asking them for a Date from other Sims that they are not romantically involved with. Because it was aaaakward…

Toddler Sims will not be able to Ask for Mentoring on some in progress mentoring interactions to strangers. Except for “Invite to Bob to Music” because we can dance if we want to, we can leave our friends behind, ‘cause your friends don’t dance and if they don’t dance well... they’re not friends of mine.

Fixed an issue with textures for the tops and landings on some Staircases.

Fixed an issue that did not allow randomizer to work correctly when Male Sims had Makeup on Create a Sim.

Plants can now be placed closer to foundations with moveobjects cheat enabled, as long as most of the plant's footprint is outside of the foundation.

Fixed an issue in which Simoleons were not added to Household Funds when moving and selling furniture.

Fixed an issue in which previewing certain windows on diagonal walls reverted their color back to the default color swatch.

Simmers on macOS Catalina and Intel Iris Plus Graphics 640 GPU will no longer experience seeing a squared shadow under their Sims.

Fixed an issue with the Wooden Prairie-Style Two-Panel door in which color swatches were not displaying correctly on both sides of the door.

Sims now can dispose of packed lunches that have spoiled. Out, foul food!

Fixed some oddness with disappearing Stairs within enclosed courtyards.

Fixed a Stair issue with Landings not working properly on lots with raised foundations and basements. Sims will no longer walk through walls and things should now look appropriate.

Fixed missing Career Promotion screens for careers in various packs.

Fixed User Interface elements and Icons across multiple packs.

Spandrels can now be properly applied on Fences.

Stairs will now not shrink when increasing Foundation heights.

Get Together

Fixed an issue in which non local Sim Townies would spawn in Windenburg’s Island, now named The Crumbling Isle.

Fixed an issue that caused an error to occur when deleting or editing Clubs.

As much as Windenburgians (Windenburgers? Windenburguese? Windenburglites?) love visitors from other worlds, they have voted them off the Island. Sorry, not sorry!

City Living

Fixed an issue that caused time to be desynchronized at Speed 3. Bending the space time continuum no more!

Vet Clinics can no longer be placed in Penthouses.

Yard Sale customers will no longer wander inside Sims’ houses and interact with their belongings. While prospective buyers are nice to have in any sale, this was just rude, this is NOT a Welcome Wagon.

Cats & Dogs

Game progress will no longer be lost when editing/adding/deleting career outfits in Create a Sim.

Fixed an issue that made Pets’ needs to not be fulfilled if not playing an active household.

Pets’ ehm… poop is now able to be used as plant fertilizer. Happy gardening!

Seasons

Sims can now sell Flowers in stacks from their Inventory.

Sims will now appropriately put their Umbrellas away before performing some interactions. Because WooHoo while having an Umbrella out in the open, seems complicated, we are not judging… but seems complicated.

Fixed an issue that made Simmer created Holidays in the Calendar populate after a season ended.

Father Winter will now be able to remove his beard and change in Create a Sim if he is part of an active Household. But who would dare shave Father Winter’s beard?? Who?!

Get Famous

Fixed the issue with the Actor Career where Sims were unable to complete their gig when they would travel and return home before it was time for the gig.

Island Living

Lotta Cocolatas will now be made with actual Coconuts taken from Sims’ Inventories. What were they made from before? We will never know! Never accept imitation Lotta Cocolatas… never!

Fixed an issue in which some quick meals were requiring a Microwave while being Off-The-Grid when it is not needed. Yogurt needing a microwave? I think not!

Mermaids in Create a Sim will no longer be able to have their Traits randomized. This allows them to keep their Mermaidism, as well as their air of mystery and charm.

Mermaids now will wear appropriate career outfits when going to work. So I can picture this now, Mermaids as Doctors would be a great TV show.

Fixed an issue in which some Island Living Tank Tops were categorized incorrectly in Create a Sim.

Mermaid Children made in Create a Sim will now grow up to be fully-functioning Mer-dults.

The Go To Work button for Odd Jobs has been fixed for Sims on Vacation.

The Eyedropper tool will now work on Stilts instead of only working on the Foundation Trims.

Fixed an issue in which Sims in Off-The-Grid lots were showering constantly. Now they will shower when appropriate. Though, with this heatwave, anything goes in my opinion!

“Dr. Mermaid/Merman, what do you recommend?

“I am prescribing some Vitamin Sea”

Give Russkii more coffee please...

Discover University

Student Sims will not lose their Term Presentations Boards when signing up for another term.

Simmers with Seasons additionally installed: Student Sims will no longer receive Academic Probation if they were on planned Holidays through the Calendar.

Student Sims will no longer be labeled as Graduate after completing the Graduation Ceremony. Congratulations!

Fixed an issue in which homework assignment progression was too slow and timers might have been missing in some instances.

Fixed an issue in which Sims were taking showers fully clothed. As much as the current heat wave is giving us creative ideas to cool off, it would be more efficient to not be fully clothed when showering.

Hair Style ymHair_EP08MensShavedPonytail_Black has been updated for Teens, Adults, and Elders to display all swatches. Similarly yfHair_EP08ShortBobBraid_Black has been fixed to appear as an option for Teens.

Sims that re-enroll in University after graduating or dropping out, can now rejoin their Secret Society. Likewise, if Sims get suspended and re-enrolls their progress will not be lost.

Fixed an issue with the "Gameday Glute Accommodator" chair that occasionally could make Sims invisible if they placed it in their Inventory. We don’t know what other powers the "Gameday Glute Accommodator" may have but invisibility is now not one of them.

Sims in the Law Career can now Attend Depositions from their Computers and Phones. Because you don’t need to break your computer to complete an assignment, that seems impractical.

Vampire Coffins and Sleeping Pods can now count as Beds in University Dorms.

Fixed an issue in which the Write and Publish Research Paper interaction would disappear from the options if it was cancelled midway. I mean, I understand rage quitting something but not to the point of my options to do it disappearing...amirite?

Fixed an issue with yfBody_EP08DressParty_SolidPurple in which pendant necklaces were not able to be seen if this asset was worn by Sims.

Fixed an issue that could make the Soccer interaction Study Plays with drop out from the interaction queue.

Corrected Final Exam Requirements for Elective Courses to say that for studying they need to do so on Computers or Research Machines.

To anyone who may have noticed the tiny head effect in the thumbnails if you wore the Dragon or the Lobster mascot costume without their hats, that issue has been fixed.

Humanoid Robots will no longer be able to have Traits or Aspirations modified in Create a Sim. You are a real Sim to me Robot friend, you are to me.

If a Sim already knows about the Secret Society, is it still a secret? Time will tell.

Outdoor Retreat

Herbalism recipes can now work while Off-The-Grid, however only on Off-The-Grid supported stoves.

Dine Out

Random NPCs will not leave Hamburgers on tables at restaurants anymore. As much as we like to receive free food, we don’t think it is proper to get them randomly from a stranger.

Vampires

Vampire Sims working on the Master Vampire Aspiration will no longer have the task “Survive for an Additional 20 Days as a Vampire” reset after traveling.

Vampire Sims with Full Sun Resistance are now able to properly tend to gardens and not tend to plants one at a time.

Fixed an issue in which you could set the Registered Vampire Lair Lot Trait for Venues.

Vampire child ears can now be changed after being aged-down from adult Dark Form.

The Rustic Candle Chandelier now has flame effects on the candles.

Jungle Adventure

Fans/Stans will no longer follow their adored celebrity into the jungles of Selvadorada.

Realm Of Magic

Spellcasters have regained access to Styled Looks.

Fixed an issue in which a Tank Top belonging to this pack was not categorized correctly in Create a Sim.

Hot Tubs that have been upgraded to unbreakable will no longer be broken upon performing the Zipzap Spell.

A Spellcaster is never not in vogue, but it’s always nice to have options.

Moschino

We fixed an issue in which some hotkeys in Photo Mode (particularly E and Q) were not working.

After popular demand, the Libearian bookend will now cost Simoleons. Nothing’s for free, nothing’s for freeee... take it away!

Tiny Living

Murphy beds will now be more resilient after first use. Warranty terms pending.

Fixed an issue in which Game Consoles were not usable with the all in one entertainment systems.

Fixed an issue in which Hair Styles from this pack appeared with their color swatches out of order in Create a Sim.

Fixed an issue in which Sims could not Put Bed Up their Murphy Beds after WooHoo.

We have also adjusted their pricing and comfort levels, bang for your buck!

Now the “Media Marathoner All on the Wall” will be actually the Media Marathoner All on the Wall.

[multifandomfanfiction]

You Are My Sunshine Chapter 7

TITLE: You Are My Sunshine Chapter 7 PAIRING: Marcus/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 7/? SUMMARY: The FBI is setting up a task force to deal with international art theft and they’re in need of an analyst. Willow Reid, younger sister of the BAU’s resident genius, applies for the job and gets it. She and her new boss, Agent Marcus Pike, get off on the wrong foot due to her overly friendly personality. What will the BAU do when they realize that he’s taken their sunshine away?

“Willow, can I see you in my office?” Marcus asked.

Willow nodded and followed him, aware that the whole team was staring at them.

Marcus shut the door and sat down at his desk. “Is something wrong, Marcus?”

“There was a robbery at a nearby museum and they have security footage of it happening.”

Willow nodded. “Great. I’ll just need their IP address.”

Marcus looked at her, confused.

“I can backdoor my way into their system and pull the footage we need and if I can’t do it, Penelope can.” Sometimes she forgot that Marcus had no background in technology or hacking.

“I was actually hoping you could accompany me,” he said.

“Oh! I guess I could do that. Just let me grab my laptop and we can go.” Willow grabbed her laptop from her office and brought up her software as Marcus drove.

“So did Penelope show you how to do that?” Marcus asked.

“I learned everything from Penny. Before I joined the FBI, I would go to work with Spencer and shadow her.”

Ever since that night in Willow’s office, Marcus let her decide when to bring up her brother or the BAU.

They arrived at the museum and went inside.

Willow tried not to blush at the feeling of Marcus’ hand on her lower back.

“Ah, Agent Pike!” the curator said, rushing towards them.

“This is our technical analyst Willow Reid. She just needs to get a copy of the security footage so she can analyze it and hopefully bring them to justice.”

The curator nodded and led her to the security office.

Marcus stayed back to let her do her thing without being disturbed while he looked around at the paintings. He hadn’t been to this museum yet. Work had kept him busy, delegating tasks and traveling around for cases.

Willow soon joined him.

“Hey, get what we need?” he asked.

Willow patted her bag and said, “As soon as we get back, I can run it through some facial recognition software and we should have our unsubs.” “Unsubs?”

“Unknown subjects. Sorry. I still forget this isn’t the BAU.”

“I’m sure the curator would appreciate that. There’s a gala in a few days and he’d like the paintings back before then.”

Willow frowned. “You don’t think they would have sold the paintings by now?”

Marcus shrugged. “We’ve been following these ‘unsubs’ for a while. They tend to hold onto them for a little while until things die down.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The art thieves were apprehended thanks to the help of the FBI’s extensive databases.

As a token of appreciation, Marcus and Willow were invited to the gala. Willow wanted to turn down the invitation, but Marcus urged her to accept it. It would look good for the FBI and foster a relationship with the public.

Willow called Penelope. “I have a fashion emergency.” She explained what happened and begged Penelope to help her pick out a dress. She smoothed her hands over it again as there was a knock on her door. Willow grabbed her purse and answered the door.

Marcus was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and black bow-tie. “You look…you look…wow.”

Willow blushed. Her was dress was white with black lace covering the bust and the inside hem of the dress. It came up to her knees in the front while the back brushed the floor. “You clean up pretty good as well, Pike.”

Marcus smiled and nervously looked at his shoes.

“I guess we should get going then,” Willow said.

“Uh, yeah.”

They went downstairs and Willow saw a limo.

“The owner of the museum insisted,” Marcus explained to her.

“I guess it’s okay. I was wondering how I was going to fit in your little Mazda.”

Marcus laughed and opened the door for her. Willow climbed into the limo, Marcus following.

The drive to the museum was spent in a comfortable silence. Neither of them felt the need to speak to break it.

They arrived at the museum and Marcus got out first. Willow took a deep breath and stepped out, clutching onto Marcus’ arms as they ascended the steps.

Once inside, Willow grabbed a flute of champagne. Maybe it would calm her nerves.

Marcus noticed her nervousness and put a hand on her back. “Hey, you okay?”

Willow nodded and leaned in towards him. Marcus wound an arm around her waist and held her close to his side.

To the outside world, they would look like a pair of lovers as opposed to co-workers.

“Do you wanna go look at the paintings?” Marcus asked her.

Willow nodded and let Marcus lead her around the gallery.

With a few drinks in his system, Marcus talked at length about the colors and the artists’ intent behind the paintings.

Willow couldn’t help smiling. His eyes lit up when he talked about art and you could tell he was passionate about it.

“Who knows? Maybe one day your drawings will be on these walls,” Marcus said.

“I think you’re drunk, Marcus.”

Marcus’ eyebrows furrowed adorably. There was that self-deprecation sense of humor again. Why couldn’t she see how talented she was? Marcus was about to something when the owner cut him off.

“Are you an artist too?”

“I draw in my free time,” Willow told him, “But it’s really just a hobby.”

“I’d love to take a look at your work sometime.”

Willow was speechless.

“She’d love that,” Marcus answered for her.

At the end of the night, there was a toast to the FBI, specifically Marcus and Willow. Marcus and Willow said their goodbyes and went outside to wait for the limo.

The temperature had dropped and Willow shivered.

Marcus took off his suit jacket and put it around her shoulders. “Here. Can’t have our computer genius getting sick.”

“The cold doesn’t make you sick. What you have to worry about is frostbite or hypothermia. Both conditions can lower your immune system and in turn, that can lead to you getting sick.”

“That a fact you learned from your brother?” Once again, Marcus read her like an expert.

“I retain a lot of what my brother says, even if I don’t have an eidetic memory.”

The limo finally arrived and they rode back to Willow’s apartment.

Marcus got out and walked her to the front door.

“I had a nice time tonight, Marcus.”

“Me too, Willow.”

Willow started to take his jacket off, but Marcus shook his head. “Keep it. Gives me a reason to come over sometime.”

Willow blushed and Marcus realized what he had just said.

“Oh my god. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…”

Willow laughed and put a hand on Marcus’ forearm. “It’s okay, Marcus. I knew what you meant.”

They stood there for a few moments before Willow said, “Well, goodnight Marcus.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before she could stop herself. She quickly ducked inside as her heart pounded in her chest.

Marcus reached up and gently touched his cheek. He turned to the door, which he knew Willow was just on the other side of. “Goodnight, Willow.”

Taglist: @bxnnywriting @sugarontherims

[rina-writes]

The Dress

A/N: The friend!reader consoling Ethan reminded me of this drabble I had in my drafts of Ethan comforting gf!reader when feeling insecure.  Kinda short, but I think it’s cute :D  

Warnings: Fluff, sexual references (at the end), insecure!reader

You chewed on your lower lip as you stood on line for the register.  You picked up the velvet, green dress that was draped over your right arm with your left hand to pull it into view.

“Are you sure it looked good?” You asked your best friend who was standing next to you, sending a quick text.

“Yes!” She said, with a laugh. “100 times yes.  I think it will look great for the red carpet.”

“It’s not really a red carpet.” You argued, your eyes still analyzing the dress.  “It’s more of like a gala.  Think the turn of the 20th century, where aristocrats would be invited to a new exhibit at the museum. Everyone would wear their best, strolling through the galleries with a glass of champagne in hand, occasionally nibbling on the hors d'oeuvres being passed around on delicate, silver trays.”

Your best friend paused and a little smirk formed on her lips.  “Your boyfriend hired you to do the PR his event again?”

You laughed. “Is it that obvious it’s my idea?” You smiled to yourself.

The Dolan Twins were huge fans of “putting people on,” so to speak.  If someone in their circle had a knack for something, they employed them to do it.  It wasn’t only that Ethan trusted your creative direction, but he AND Grayson thought your ideas were a great fit for their event.  Just like any other person who would organize an 100+ scale event, they paid you very well to do it. So, there was a lot of pressure to make this the best launch celebration ever.  

To be honest, you knew you nailed it.  You just couldn’t help, but feel like you didn’t fit your own event.  You weren’t a big YouTuber or a celebrity or anything remotely famous.  Your relationship with Ethan was on the DL, so you didn’t even feel pressure to keep up a certain image.  Unlike the boys, you definitely had a “whenever I feel like it” work out regimen and a “whatever taste good” kind of diet. You did try to eat relatively healthy and at least move during the day, but it wasn’t enough to maintain a Instagram-worth physique.

Which brings us back to the dress in your hand that you were now about to purchase...for quite a bit of money.  The dress fit the aesthetic of your event: an off the shoulder dress with a sweetheart neckline that dipped down the center of your chest, with long sleeves that started at the top of your arm and ended at your wrist.  The velvet material hugged your body, leaving nothing to the imagination, and stopped just about your knees.  The dress was classic, and one that you could wear again and again...if you had the confidence.  Your best friend hyped you up in the dressing room, but you hated the way your stomach looked in it. But, your best friend looked so disappointed that you didn’t like it.  Not because she particularly liked the dress, but because she knew your distaste for the dress was about your feelings towards you body.

“We’ll jack you up.” Your best friend said with a wink as you put the dress in the trunk.  She had been watching quite a bit of “Say Yes to The Dress Atlanta” lately and often quoted Monty and Lori.  “The party is tomorrow so, let’s continue our glam day where we just relax and pamper ourselves.  Then tomorrow, I’ll help you get dressed.”

“Thanks, Y/F/N,” You smiled softly, getting into the passenger seat of her car and buckling your seat belt. 

“Trust me, Ethan is going to love it.” Your best friend assured as she backed out of the parking spot.

But, what if I don’t.... You thought, but bit your tongue.  You didn’t want to make a big deal about it anymore.

The night of the event, you were buzzing around like a bee.  You loved the rush of making sure everything was going right, and the even bigger surge of energy when something was going wrong. 

The setting was perfect.  Each fragrance had it’s own gallery with a video clip on loop that showed the natural inspiration for the fragrance.  There were testimonies from the twins about the fragrances written on plaques placed beside the display of the fragrance bottles.  There were also several stations in the gallery to try the fragrance and pick up goodie bags.

You had successful ensured that all food was labeled for vegan, non-vegan, vegetarian, kosher, halal, and marked for allergies.  You also did your best to inform the wait staff of who had specific dietary restrictions to know to go to them with the options they could eat first before opening it to the rest of the floor.  

You had even ensured that the photographers got people when they came in through the door and let people know about the photo booth in the back.  

This was going to be your event to top.  Once people knew that you organized it, your office was going to be full with requests. But if there was anyone you wanted to impress, it was Ethan.  

And he was.  Ethan walked in, his hair styled neatly, his body clad in a black tailored suit with a white button down and a red tie.  Grayson, also wore a similar tailored suit and a white button down, but he opted for a green tie.  They intended to do the twin thing, and unintentionally did the Christmas color thing...but they could roll with it. When Ethan saw you, his jaw dropped.  He had never seen you like this before.  For one thing, everyone was running up to you with different issues. You kept a pleasant smile on your face as you calmed people down and told them what to do.  You made it look easy.  Then there was the dress...oof.  It was like he was seeing your curves for the first time.  He felt like he would need to holler at you all over again.

“Gray, quick, switch ties with me.” Ethan said, slapping his brother on the arm with the back of his hand.

“No, green is my favorite color.” Grayson said, narrowing his eyes. “I’m also not doing this in the middle of our event.”

“Green’s my favorite color now too.” Ethan said, gesturing to you talking to one of the wait staff.

The green velvet dress looked amazing on your complexion. You had taken the green elements into other parts of your outfit as well as part of your best friend’s “jacking up.” Your hair was decorated with faux emerald and cubic zirconia hair pieces (because this dress already cost you a fortune).  You were wearing black pumps, but they had green bottoms that your friend helped you dye yourself.  You were also wearing a mix of green and silver jewelry including dangling earrings and a bracelet.  Ethan made a mental note to get you a watch for your birthday, one that could go with this dress and any other dress you decided to grace him with in the future.

“Oh wow...” Grayson said, trying not to oogle his brother’s girlfriend.  “Okay, you win. Take my tie...”

Grayson removed his tie and Ethan did the same.  If you had turned around and seen them, it would have been comical.  It was like they were racing to see who could tie a tie the fastest and they were both losing.  Finally, they both looked decent enough to mingle.  Ethan walked straight towards you.

“Excuse me, miss?” Ethan said, licking his lips as he spoke to you. 

You looked up from the table you were re-arranging and smiled softly. This was one of your favorite bits. When Ethan pretended to not know you and ask you out again.  It was funny because Ethan was Mr. Slow and Steady when going into a relationship.  He never just hollered at a girl, he always became her friend, got to know her and then finally asked her out. It made this all the more fun to act out.

“I just wanted to say that I think you are the most beautiful woman in the room.”  Ethan rolled his hands and licked his lips flirtatiously. “And, if you don’t have a man, I’d be happy to apply for the position. If you do, I hope you don’t mind us doing this quietly.”

You laughed, and placed a hand on his chest. “Babe, stop.”

Your hand ran along his tie and you smiled.  You loved how you two always unintentionally matched...completely unaware of how much effort Ethan put in to do it.

“Alright, I’ll control myself.” He hugged you tightly, kissing your cheek. 

“Ethan...” You blushed. “People are staring.”

“They already were.” He leaned back and smiled at you. “Got to let them know you’re mine.”

Ethan gave your side a squeeze, resisting from giving your butt a little slap, before stepping back.  “This event looks amazing, Y/N.  I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you!” You exclaimed.  “Your product lent itself to this design.  I am even wearing one of your scents now.”

“I know...” He grinned. “...it’s one of my favorites because I made it with you in mind.”

You were about to say something cheesy when someone walked up to Ethan.  He introduced them as someone from their management team.  You waved, at them, and then paused, suddenly remembering what you were wearing.  Your hands danced between covering your stomach and your chest, and you constantly looked at your reflection in one of the dark windows behind them.  Your focus on your appearance made it hard to join the conversation.  You answered most questions curtly and in a quiet voice.  

When you interacted with the catering staff and your team, you weren’t nervous.  They had seen you come into the office in sweatpants and coffee stains on your shirt on multiple occasions.  You didn’t have to pretend for them. They knew you were good at your job and what you wore didn’t matter.

For Ethan’s colleagues, you felt more pressure.  Although the public didn’t know about your relationship, most people in the twins’ circle knew he was dating someone.  Eventually, someone would tell someone else that the girl in the green dress was Ethan’s girlfriend, and you couldn’t help, but worry about how that would reflect on Ethan. 

Ethan was surprised to see you clam up like this.  This wasn’t like you normally, and it definitely wasn’t like you a few moments earlier.  At first he thought it was just because you were caught off guard. It wasn’t until the third person he introduced you to did he notice that something was up.

“Baby,” Ethan whispered in your ear as the person excused themself. “Come with me for a second.”

Ethan laced his fingers in yours and pulled you to the back of the galleria where there was a back room used to house the extra supplies like toilet paper and tools.

“Is everything okay?” Ethan asked, once he was sure you were both alone and the door was closed.

“Yeah!” You smiled, thinking he was the one worried. “Everyone loves the launch, Ethan! It’s going well.”

“Not the event,” Ethan said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you toward him.  “I mean you.  You’re not acting like yourself.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, putting your hands on his shoulders.  “I’m fine.”

“You’re acting all shy and awkward.” He rested his forehead on yours. “You only do that when something is bothering you.”

“No I don’t.” You argued in a monotone voice.

The silence was awkward and bone chilling.  Ethan just stared at you until you cracked. 

“It’s the dress...” You admitted with a sigh. “I look like a whale.”

“Wait what?” Ethan asked, almost yelling.” Are you nuts? Y/N, baby, you look amazing.  I’ve been planning to pull you in here and plow you in this dress. I am holding back everything inside of me right now...how could you say that?”

You blushed. “It’s my stomach.” You backed up so you could show him the outline of your stomach. Your hands then went to the neckline of the dress.  “And this is cut in such a weird spot.”

“Your stomach looks fine, I didn’t even notice it. And your tits look amazing in that weird spot.” Ethan used air quotes when he said weird spot.  His hands then immediately went to your lower back to pull you closer to him.

“I just don’t feel like this dress is right for me.” You sighed again.

“Why?” Ethan asked, running hands up your sides. “Because this dress looks so amazing on you, I almost don’t want to take it off. Almost...”

You smiled softly. “I dunno...it just doesn’t look right. Maybe I should work out or something....”

“I mean if you want.” Ethan kissed your forehead. “Or you can change what you see in your mind.  Everyone here is impressed with you.   They want to hear more about you and book you for their events. I’m sure they’d ask if you didn’t seem so...out of it.”

You seemed unsure so Ethan continued, “Hey, I’ve even heard compliments on your dress.  I can’t change what you think of yourself, but I want to help you to love yourself the way I love you.”

“I love you too, E.” You sighed, “You really think it looks good?”

“Yes.” Ethan nodded so quickly you thought his head would roll off.

“Thank you.” You said, looking down at yourself.  Suddenly, your stomach didn’t look that big and your boobs did look pretty nice.  You realized, it wasn’t the dress. It was the whole being Ethan’s girlfriend thing that threw you off.  

“I guess, I just felt like this was the kind of dress that someone like you would like to see your girlfriend in.” You said, still looking down.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Yes, hence why I like seeing you, my girlfriend, in this dress.”

“I know, it’s just sometimes I feel like there is Ethan Dolan’s girlfriend...this image i have in my head.” You paused. “And then there’s me.  Which sometimes is a different image.”

“Well guess what...” Ethan kissed your cheek. “That image in my head is always you.  So, whatever we have to do to match up the images in your head, I’m ready to do it together.”

“Aww, E...” You kissed him softly and he deepened the kiss.

His hands roamed from your shoulders to your backside, giving your body little squeezes. As the kiss got sloppier, you realized that Ethan wasn’t going to be satisfied by a little frenching.

“Quickie before we go back out?” You suggested, breaking the kiss.  

You walked over to one of the shelves and put your hands on top of it. You turned so your butt was up and facing Ethan, one of his favorite positions.

“Yes ma’am,” He smirked, unbuckling his belt as he walked over.

“But make sure you don’t ruin my dress.” You said, looking back at him with a wink.

“Yes, ma’am.”

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Fortune’s Rule, Part 1

So I had a conundrum: wait until this fic was finished and nice and way too long for anyone to read in one sitting, or break it up into parts and hope that readers don’t mind that the “leading man” doesn’t actually appear in the first part. SIGH. So I’ve decided to go with the second one. 

If anyone has some pointers for me on how to write stories that are short, concise and don’t require people to fight their way through my word jungle in order to get what they want out of the experience, that’d be swell. 

Anyway, here’s the first part of this story. I promise that there will be subsequent parts coming soon.

Pairing: Damian Priest x OFC (I wasn’t joking, he literally doesn’t appear in this first section)

Word count: 2,386 (And it’s just a bloody intro???? Yes, I’m sorry)

Content advisory: violence, criminal behavior, drug use

“What the hell was that?” Cynthia whimpers, sinking into the backseat a little further. 

You twist your neck from the passenger seat, although there’s nothing to see from the outside of the house, at least for now. You both heard it, a few sharp cracks that echoed in your brains, if not in reality, like those stupid cherry bomb fireworks people were always setting off when you were kids. The sort of thing boys were always into. 

Cynthia clamps a hand over her mouth and shakes her head. This is not her scene. This is way beyond her scene. She’s here because the two of you were supposed to score some mushrooms out of the deal, but more importantly, she’s here because she’s your friend. You were the one who assured her that it was no problem for the two of you to accompany your boyfriend, Johnnie, to actually buy the drugs from his supplier. Yes, you’d known that he was picking up a lot more than mushrooms. And yes, you’d been aware that there was some kind of tension between him and the guys that he was going to buy from. But you’d told yourself that it was no big deal and, just to make yourself feel that much more confident, you’d told Cynthia that as well. 

A few seconds later, you see Johnnie come tearing out of the house, a few more loud firecracker-sounds following him. He crashes into the car like a missile, jumping so forcefully into the driver’s seat that he almost ends up in your lap. He drops a worn canvas satchel onto the console between you and as it shifts closer to you, you can see what looks like a lot of bills inside. 

“Keys!” he rasps. 

You shove your spare set into his hand, not wanting to ask where his keys have gone. He fires up the engine and takes off so fast that the back of the car fishtails and the tires screech. 

“Johnnie, what the fuck just happened?” you growl, your heart pumping as you see the sweat pouring from him and a trickle of blood from a cut on his brow. 

“Don’t fucking start,” he snaps. “Don’t start with me now. We’re going to go back home and I’ll explain then but until we’re home I don’t want to hear a fucking word, you got that?”

His voice rises threateningly for the last three words and you hear Cynthia sob behind you. You know that there’s a problem, a big problem. You just want to know that those sounds you heard weren’t shots. That’s all you want to know. 

“It’s just that we heard… there was something that sounded…” You don’t want to anger him. His eyes are so intently focused on the road ahead that you feel like distracting him will cause some sort of meltdown. 

“I said shut the hell up!” he bellows, grabbing something from his pocket and tossing it into your lap. 

The weight hits you and you almost scream in shock before you even know what it is. Then, when you see what it is, you want to scream even more. Sitting in your lap is a handgun. You’ve seen them, even held them before when your father used to take you to shoot handmade targets in the field near the trailer park where you’d grown up. But this is different. The metal is warm and the damn thing is much bigger than anything your father used to use. It’s something that would intimidate other people when you whipped it out. It’s the sort of thing that should end a dispute through intimidation alone. But in this case, you’re pretty sure it didn’t. 

You’d love to punch Johnnie right in the fucking ear. You want to demand to know what’s going on, but he’s the one who’s managing the vehicle that’s rocketing through the back roads to get to the highway and it feels like anything you say is going to freak him out. 

From the backseat, Cynthia whispers your name, wanting to know what’s going on. 

“Don’t worry, Cyn,” you reassure her. “It’s no big deal.”

“Shut up,” Johnnie spits, almost under his breath. 

You can’t miss the look on Cynthia’s face as she pushes her cherry red hair out of her eyes. She knows that something has gone very wrong as surely as you do. 

“Just take it easy, “ you grunt in Johnnie’s direction. “You don’t want to get pulled over for speeding.”

He looks like he’s about to turn and punch you in the face but almost immediately, a wave of calmness passes over him. He takes his foot off the gas just a little and seems to focus on the road and not whatever he’s just seen. 

The three of you ride in silence until you hit the offramp to the freeway, at which point it seems like there’s enough distance between you and the place you’ve left for you to speak. 

“You need to tell me what the hell happened back there,” you snap. 

“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he mutters, pulling out to pass the car in front of him like the guy owes him money. 

“Dude, something went all the fuckin way wrong and you need to tell us because we need to know what to say in case anyone comes asking questions.” You let the emphasis fall on the final word so that he catches your full meaning. The three of you need to get your stories in line. 

“It was nothing,” he insists. “I went there to conduct a little business, some other guys showed up and started an argument. I didn’t feel good about the whole situation so I left.”

“Johnnie, no one else came up to the house while you were in there. And it seemed like whatever argument happened involved guns.”

“Why the fuck are you contradicting me? You wanna know what to tell the cops? Tell them exactly what I just said!”

“Oh yeah? And what if there are traffic cameras or neighbourhood watch cameras? What happens if there’s a nosy fucking neighbour? No other car pulled up. No other people walked into that house after you did. So get your shit together and tell us enough of what happened that we can come up with a story that the cops will actually buy.”

“What the hell is going on?” Cynthia groans, staring at you with her almost perfectly round eyes. 

You want to grab her hand and reassure her. After all, the two of you have been friends since junior high school. You skipped school together and hitchhiked to the city to go see so many shows. Almost all of your first drug experiences have been together. You’d lost your virginity to the same sleazy guy who always showed up at high school parties even though he was clearly too old to be there. 

But for all the time and experience you’ve had together, you feel like you can’t help her right now. Things had been a bit weird since you’d hooked up with Johnnie and since she’d gotten a scholarship to art school. She hadn’t even applied on her own, hadn’t ever considered education beyond high school, but some of her paintings got picked up by a local gallery and a big shot from a nearby college had been awestruck. He’d pushed her until she applied and when she’d gotten accepted, he’d made sure that she was able to get a full scholarship. In a couple of months, she was heading away. 

You hadn’t ever considered education beyond high school either but all it meant for you was that you’d spent the last few years working at whatever minimum wage shit job you could find and doing as much as you could to distract yourself when you weren’t on the clock. 

She’d found a lifeline. You hadn’t. You tried not to be jealous of that. You liked to think you were keeping her open-minded by doing psychedelics together. 

Johnnie is gripping the steering wheel like he’s trying to choke it to death. Although he’s eased off on the speed a little, he’s still going way faster than he should, well over the speed limit, and you don’t know what’s going to happen if you get pulled over. As a precaution, you take the gun off your lap and slide it under the passenger seat. Cynthia notices and gasps when she sees what you’re doing. 

You keep your eyes on him as he stares furiously at the freeway ahead, his concentration unbroken until he sees two police cars, sirens blaring, headed in the other direction. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, jerking the wheel to the right. 

The car swerves violently and both you and Cynthia scream. 

“Shut up! They’re headed to the house. I just need to take the next exit and stay off the highways for a while.”

You’re about to ask him how he knows where the police are headed when he slams the car to the right again, lining up to take the next exit. 

Another police car, this one followed by an ambulance, rockets by on the far side of the freeway, siren howling and lights flashing. 

“Fuck!” Johnnie gasps. 

You’re hardly able to process the sound before you hear yourself screaming. The exit is just ahead but he swings the wheel wildly, propelling you off the road entirely and into the thick foliage on your right. The car bounces violently enough that your head slams off the side, the dashboard, and the roof, the howls and yelps of your two companions echoing like something in the distance. You hit a series of hard bumps, like you’re going down a very steep staircase and it feels like every part of your upper body gets banged up in the descent before you finally hit bottom and your skull slams hard into the dashboard. 

It’s a long few minutes before you recover enough to realize where you are and realize that the car is quickly filling with murky water. . Instinctively, you unfasten your seatbelt and try to force the car door open, to no avail. It’s then that you become aware that the car has taken a nosedive into the swampy river and that it’s sinking quickly. Your window is down enough that you can, somewhat painfully, pull yourself through it, although being sucked down into the mud and water doesn’t feel much safer on the outside of the car. 

You keep a grip on the door and look inside. Johnnie is unconscious over the steering wheel, his neck bent at an ugly angle and a stream of blood slowly falling from his mouth. You hesitate a moment before reaching through the window again and grabbing the satchel from the front seat. At first, Cynthia looks like she’s unconscious and face down in the water but as you’re about to move away, she raises her head and wriggles her body towards the door. 

She hisses your name as she pulls herself up to the window, extending her hand for you to pull her out. “Shit,” she moans, “this fucking hurts. Let’s just get out of here.”

You can see her legs, which you hope she can’t. They’re mangled, the bone of one shin ripping through the skin, both obviously fractured in multiple places, trailing after her like strange, jointed snakes. 

You back up a step or two. “I’m going to go get help,” you croak. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She shakes her head violently, a long stream of blood and saliva escaping her bottom lip. 

“No way. Come on, get me out of here. We’ll make up some story for the hospital.”

You don’t know what the hell you could tell a hospital, particularly if the police are on the lookout for some people who fled the scene of a crime along the exact same route you’d been taking before you crashed. You need to get away from here. You’re dazed but you’re not broken. No one needs to know that you were ever here. 

“I’ll be right back,” you assure Cynthia, backing away from the car and into the river. 

“Godammit, don’t you dare leave me here Leeanne!” she screams. 

“I’ll be right back,” you repeat. 

She’s injured. She’s too injured for you to help. The police will find the car. The police will rescue her. Whatever she tells them, they’re not going to prosecute her because she’s just an innocent bystander. She just went to get some mushrooms with her deadbeat best friend and her wannabe drug kingpin boyfriend. She’ll be fine. 

“Don’t worry,” you yell at her as you step back into the river, the current pulling at your legs.

Her screams resonate for what seems like a long time as you let yourself be carried a bit by the current. If the police come with their dogs, they’ll lose your scent in the river. For some reason, this is something that you remember even as you’re fighting to keep your head above water. Finally, feeling that you might be reaching the end of your strength, you grab hold of a low-hanging branch near the far side of the water. You just cling to it for a while, trying to catch your breath and summon the strength to rescue yourself. As you listen to the sound of your laboured breathing, you swear you can still hear Cynthia’s screams. 

Finally, you haul yourself up the river bank and crawl onto dry ground. You pull yourself over the forest floor, not trusting your legs, until your lungs simply refuse to give you the oxygen to move any farther. Looking out over the river, you can see the back end of the car, slowly sinking beneath the surface in the distance. There are sirens again and noises, voices, people closing in on the wreckage. You want to watch, to know if Johnnie and Cynthia are alright. But you also need to sleep. Your head is pulsing from the point where it hit the dashboard, so painful it feels like your skull is cracked. You try to keep your eyes open, wanting to know, but the world is growing darker and colder and you’re too exhausted to fight it off any longer. 

[adarlingwrites]

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

all my days were spent by a telephone | that never rang and all I needed was a call | that never came to the corner of First and Amistad

IX

Surrounded by armed and dangerous people, Mr. Yamane and his new wife backed away. Aguni kept his eye trained on the pair, while Niragi chortled and faced Yamaneko, who is glaring daggers at Mr. Yamane’s back.

“All of you, scram. Get ready for the games tonight,” Aguni barks, and he turns to walk away. The rest of the militants do as he says, save for Yamaneko, who finally let out a breath she was holding, and Last Boss stood a little closer to her.

Then, she runs after their leader.

“Chief Aguni, wait. I need to say something,” she said.

Stopping to listen to what she has to say, Aguni crosses his arms and lets her continue.

“No one really stood up for me when my father abused his family before I came here. I tried calling the cops once, but they saw who my father was and only left with a warning. I’m more than capable of handling him now, but you still backed me up. Thank you. You have my loyalty as my show of gratitude,” she declares, and gives him a deep bow.

Something in Aguni’s stony facade shifts for a moment; old and painful memories of his own past fleeting through his psyche, but it’s gone after a few seconds. “Get ready for tonight's game, then. Show your loyalty to me by surviving and bringing back a card.”

Without another word, Aguni leaves. Yamaneko turns and presses her face in Takatora’s chest.

“Thank you for defending me, too. I wish I had someone like you long ago,” she whispers.

Truth be told, Takatora wishes she came into his life earlier as well. He begins imagining what life could’ve been like. Perhaps he wouldn’t need to pour his heart out in online columns that no one cared about. Perhaps he wouldn’t have ended up as a recluse if he had someone who understood his existential dread, his philosophy, and him.

“No one’s allowed to hurt my wildcat.”

Hearing those words made her heart go aflutter. Her lover took her back to their shared bed, where she curled up in his arms. She will survive tonight, for her chief, for herself, and for Takatora.

Especially Takatora.

Tonight’s game was a Five of Clubs in an art gallery.

Yamaneko wasn’t sure if she was distracted because of the sudden appearance of her father, or due to the side effects of the pills Sunohara prescribed, but she nearly got roasted alive in the ordeal.

One of the Beach members she came with perished, foolishly braving the jets, only to drop from the pain midway. Now there’s only Chishiya, another woman in a blue bikini whom he referred to as Kuina, and Yamaneko herself. She had seen the other two’s tags; they’re in the top twenty, just like her. Hell, their ranks are higher than hers, and she found out Chishiya’s actually an executive member, so they must be good. There were ten players total, and they were the only three left.

The game is simple: cross a narrow hallway to the next exhibit area within the given time limit, and avoid getting roasted alive in the process by the jets of fire that blow through the wall. There are three columns of tiles, and ten rows. Kuina had considered risking it, seeing how the others had made it three-fourths of the way, but Chishiya held her back. The man in white waited for the other players to make a move, like he always does.

Observe, then formulate a plan.

Kuina cringed as the others got burnt to a crisp, while Yamaneko’s only reaction was a glassy stare. She didn’t know what the other two are thinking about, but the more she sees people dying, the more determined she is to avoid their fates.

She has someone to go home to now.

“So, any plans?” Yamaneko asks them, stumped. It doesn’t help that she’s feeling nauseous, and a killer headache is making her space out. Kuina regarded her warily, while Chishiya had the same, condescending smirk on his face the first time she  met him.

Being the smartest of the three, Chishiya figured out the trick to winning the game.

“Look closely,” he tells the other two as he watches the others fail and burn. “That man stepped on one tile, and the jet in front of him stopped for five seconds. It’s a pressure plate.”

“So, someone needs to be stepping on the correct tile one row behind,” Kuina replies. “But, if the person behind steps forward, they’re both toast.”

“Well, there’s nothing in the rules forbidding two people to step on the same tile, or that we can’t use an object to apply pressure on the plate,” Yamaneko adds.

“Ah. Always looking for loopholes, huh, Yamane? You’re starting to convince me that members of the militant sect are capable of basic thought,” Chishiya comments in a sing-song manner.

“It’s Yamaneko now. I’m not just some mindless goon just because I’m allowed to carry a weapon,” she spits, crossing her arms and temper flaring from his condescending tone.

“I always had an impression that most militants are given that role precisely because they are mindless goons.”

Yamaneko draws a dagger, irritated to no end. “The chief’s not here, so if I hurt you, I’m not doing it as a goon. I’m doing it on my own accord because you’re such an ass.”

The man in white’s only response is his signature infuriating smirk.

Before a fight can ensue, Kuina steps in between the two. “Can we just focus on the game? The clock is ticking.”

The militant sheaths her weapon. “You’re lucky Kuina doesn’t get on my nerves, or I would’ve ignored her.”

“Oh well. Now that we know how to clear the game, let’s begin.”

“Wait, could you at least spell it out for the two of us?” Kuina asks, eyebrows furrowing, and Yamaneko nods in agreement. “Yeah. I’m not exactly some smug bastard who can figure things out with a glance,” the militant adds, tilting her head.

Chuckling, Chishiya indulges them.

“First, Person A needs to step on the correct plate. Then, Person B will step on the same tile. Person A will leave Person B to figure out the correct tile for the second row. Then, Person C will join Person B. Person B will leave Person C to move to Person A’s spot, while Person A steps on the next correct tile. Then, Person C needs to drop a weight on the tile she’s standing on, and join Person B. Then, Person B will join Person A again. Person A figures out the next tile, then Person C should simultaneously move to Person B’s spot and move the weight to her previous spot, while Person B jumps to Person A’s spot. Rinse and repeat. It’s all about timing. A simple game, really.”

Yamaneko’s head starts to pound from trying to understand the plan, and she groans, massaging her temples.

“You call that simple?! Why don’t we just place weights on every correct tile then?” Yamaneko asks, exasperated.

“Look around you,” Chishiya replies. “The only item in this hallway is that pedestal over there. The room before this one had a few paintings and sculptures, but retrieving them would take too much of our precious time. We’re not even sure if they would weigh enough to keep the plate pressed.”

“Ah, shit. Let’s just go with your plan then. I’m nimble, so I’ll be Person C,” Yamaneko sighs, walking over to the pedestal and dragging it with her.

“I’ll be A,” Kuina volunteers.

“I guess I’m B, then,” Chishiya says in an offhand tone.

Despite the need for a few reminders and a few curses thrown here and there, the plan worked. Yamaneko’s reflexes definitely helped; moving the pedestal quickly and jumping to Chishiya’s position almost at the same time is no easy feat. Time it wrong, and they will both be burned to a crisp. Of course, if they die, Kuina will have no chance of survival too. Such is the nature of a Clubs game: players either have to rely on all the skills required to survive in the borderlands, or work together with other players.

In this case, it’s both.

“This game would’ve been easier if those morons didn’t just rush in,” Yamaneko grunts as she moves the pedestal and maneuvers her way to Chishiya’s side at the same time.

“Well, we wouldn’t have figured out what to do if it wasn’t for their mistakes,” Kuina replies, testing which tile would get the stream of fire in front of her to stop.

“They’re still fucking idiots, rushing into the fire like that without a strategy! Couldn’t they have tried to look for an off switch first? Idiots!”

“Look at that, I actually agree with you. They are idiots,” Chishiya says in a sing-song manner. “I hope you’re not a pot calling the kettle black, though.”

Yamaneko rolls her eyes, head throbbing. “If my survival didn’t depend on you, I would’ve left you to burn simply for being a condescending asshole.”

On the last row, the militant’s line of thought got befuddled due to the searing tension around her forehead, and she still took the pedestal with her and froze instead of just crossing to safety. The five seconds were up, and flames burst out of the walls, licking the left side of her body. Before it could completely engulf her, Kuina pulled her out of harm’s way, eyes wide with terror.

Screaming, Yamaneko panics as her hair, the left sleeve of her jacket, and her skirt caught fire. Kuina quickly tackles her to the ground and rolls her around, extinguishing the flames. As soon as the fire is out, the taller woman helps her out of her burned clothes, both breathing hard.

They looked at each other when they heard the robotic voice from their phones chime in.

“Game clear! Congratulations!”

One of her hair buns is singed, her left arm is suffering from minor burns, and she’s wearing nothing but her black bikini and her shoulder brace now, but Yamaneko is alive.

That’s all that matters.

She can go home to her new family now.

Kuina lets out a sigh of relief, leaning back and closing her eyes as she sits on the floor, while Yamaneko remains lying on her back, staring at the ceiling and still in shock from yet another near-death experience. Chishiya walks over and leans down, and she waves her good arm.

“Fine, fine. You’re a genius, and I can be an idiot,” she admits, not wanting to engage with any more arguments with the man in white.

Chishiya gives her another maddening smirk. “I never said that.”

Then, he walks away.

The militant sits up and watches as he does. “I know that’s exactly what you think though!” Yamaneko yells after him, and Kuina just scratches her head.

All three of them made it back to the car after Chishiya collected the card. He drives, Kuina sits in the passenger seat, and Yamaneko lies on the back. She looks at the burned skin of her left arm and hisses at the pain. It went through so much in just a span of weeks.

After a few minutes of silence, Kuina speaks up.

“Does it hurt?”

Yamaneko wanted to roll her eyes, because it obviously does, but the other woman is probably just trying to make small talk. If it can distract her from the pain, she’ll engage in it. “Of course it does. But I can manage.”

“Sorry about your hair,” Kuina adds, and Yamaneko shrugs.

“I’ve tried crazier hairstyles before. It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

“So, how did you end up hanging with those militants anyway? From what Chishiya has told me and from what I’ve seen, you’re not violent unless you need to be.”

“Two of them took me with them, and the rest is history. I’m pretty sure you can figure out why I can’t say no.”

“Fair. They say if you want to live a peaceful life on the Beach, you’d stay out of their business. But if the militants want you to get involved in their business… you better say yes if you value your life,” Kuina replies.

“Yeah. I didn’t have a choice. But even so, I’m grateful to have met them.”

The other woman gives her a questioning look through the rearview mirror. “Why?”

“They stood up for me against my abusive asshole dad. Nobody did that before. They’re a fucked up bunch, but they take care of their own.”

Kuina gives her one last look, a sympathetic one, and looks out the window, wind tousling her hair. On the other hand, Chishiya’s look is cold and calculating.

“You do know that most of them are abusive themselves, right?” Chishiya asks, eyes flicking back to the road.

“Well, I’m no longer at the receiving end of the abuse, so I’ll take what I can get.”

The rest of the ride is filled with silence, a silent understanding forming between the two people in the front seat. When they arrived at the Beach, Yamaneko left the two without saying another word, looking for her lover amidst the crowd.

“So, do you think we can still win her over?” Kuina asks the man in white, placing a faux cigarette between her lips.

“I think she’s a lost cause. Look.”

Kuina looks to Yamaneko’s direction, where Last Boss of all people approaches the shorter woman. The tattooed militant sees the burns on her arm, her lack of clothes save for the bare minimum, and he quickly sheds his hoodie to cover her. Last Boss puts one arm around her shoulder and whisks her away from the crowd.

“Huh.”

“She’s involved with one of them,” Chishiya comments, then he turns to leave, leaving Kuina to gawk at the odd couple.

Takatora held Yamaneko close as they made their way to the clinic. Onlookers be damned, he’s not allowing her to walk to the clinic alone. When arrived at the doorway, Sunohara is tending to an injury of her own, dabbing antiseptic on her scraped knee.

The doctor looks up and her face falls.

“Oh, what happened to you?!” she exclaims, putting down the used cotton swab and walking over to her friend, if she can call Yamaneko that.

“Game involved fire,” she groans, holding her singed arm out. Sunohara leads her inside, and Last Boss follows suit, close as a shadow.

“I can take it from here,” she tells the tattooed militant, who only stared at her with a defiant look.

“Just let him come with me, it’s fine,” Yamaneko tells the other woman, and Sunohara nods, not wanting to deal with what might follow if he didn’t get his way.

Sunohara cringes at the condition of her patient’s arm. “You really should be taking care of that arm,” she mutters, eyes not leaving the injuries. “First you dislocated your shoulder, then you almost nicked a major vein, and now it’s covered in burns.”

“It’s not my dominant arm, so I think I’ll manage. Do you think you can switch me back to tramadol, though?”

Sunohara gives her a pained look. “You know that I’m trying not to get you addicted. I’m sorry, I can’t-”

The words came to a halt when Last Boss drew his sword, and Sunohara panics, jumping away from the two of them. Yamaneko is quick to calm him down. “Relax. If she thinks giving me the medicine might harm me, I trust her decision to withhold it from me.”

Nodding, her lover withdrew, and Sunohara cleared her throat to defuse the tension. As the doctor and Yamaneko talked, Last Boss couldn’t stop observing the two, eyes flicking back and forth between the two women. Sunohara had planned to sit and ask about Yamaneko’s day, but her lover is already whisking her away.

“Talk again tomorrow. I need some rest,” Yamaneko calls out as she leaves the clinic.

“Right! Right. Rest well,” Sunohara replies with resignation, watching her slip away.

As soon as they’re away from prying eyes, Takatora mashes his lips against Yamaneko’s, her lipstick staining his mouth. She sank right into the kiss, tongue darting out to meet his. It was a frustrated, desperate makeout session, and it left both of them breathless.

“Huh. Somebody missed me,” Yamaneko whispers breathlessly.

“You got hurt. I was scared.”

“I didn’t know there were things you’re scared of, Tora. You’re my big, brave tiger, after all.”

With those words, he claims her lips again, softer this time, cupping her face between cold hands. As soon as they broke the kiss, Yamaneko buried her face on his chest, breathing deeply.

“C’mon. Let’s go back to our room. I need to treat my wounds and salvage the rest of my hair.”

Takatora nods.

Showering together is becoming a habit of theirs. Takatora helped wash his lover’s back as she avoided getting hot water on her burned arm. When she turns to face him, she chuckles as she reaches up to clean up the stain her lipstick left on his face.

“I should probably look for a formula that doesn’t smear,” Yamaneko mumbles. His long fingers found themselves on her face, and he gently wipes the rest of her makeup away with a soft washcloth. Not a lot of people ever saw her bare-faced.

Takatora considers himself lucky to be one of them.

After they have dried off, Yamane rummages around for scissors, and heads back to the bathroom. Dragging a stool inside, she sits in front of the mirror, assessing the damage. The fire nearly reached her scalp, mere inches of healthy hair between the singed parts and her skin. She’ll need to cut it short. Using a wide-toothed comb to part her hair, she takes a pair of scissors and trims the ends off.

Then, she looks at the other side of her head and sighs.

“Tora?” she calls out to her lover. He opens the door and peeks.

“Could you do me a favor?”

He nods.

“Could you help me cut the rest of my hair off?”

After a moment of reluctance, he nods again.

Behind her, Takatora holds a pair of scissors. Her lover takes the long strands of her hair, and proceeds to cut. He continues cutting until the ends of her lover’s hair are a blunt, uneven mess.

“I’m not good at this,” he says in a low voice as she helped her shake the strands of hair off.

“It’s fine,” Yamaneko replies, turning from left to right to look at her new hair. “I kind of like it. Looks wild. I guess calling me ‘wildcat’ is appropriate after all.”

Cold fingers caress her neck and tilts her head upwards. Takatora presses a gentle kiss, lips cool as well, and she smiles against him. He gets cold easily and Yamaneko’s warmth is a nice contrast. She always warmed him up.

They sit on the bed, Yamaneko sitting with her legs crossed and her back against Takatora’s chest, whose long legs are splayed on the mattress. He watches in silence as his lover applies burn ointment all over the affected areas of her arm, while his are wrapped around her waist.

“So, how was your game?” she asks him, pressing the back of her head against him.

“Easy. It was a Spade.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” Yamaneko responds, smiling as she bandaged her arm. Soon, her eyelids are getting heavy.

“I’m sleepy. Hold me?”

Wordlessly, the tattooed militant shifts his position on the bed with her, spooning her and avoiding contact with her bandaged arm. Takatora buries his face against her hair, getting sleepy as well.

“Hey,” Yamaneko mumbles, voice thick with drowsiness.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

For a moment, her lover tenses up, which made her fear for the worst. Maybe she should’ve waited longer, or didn’t say anything at all.

But then, he draws her closer and presses a kiss on top of her head.

“I love you too.”

Yamaneko fell asleep with a smile on her face, curling into her lover’s embrace.

The morning after, they headed to the banquet for brunch. The aroma of beef curry made Yamaneko’s mouth water, and she immediately went to ladle some for herself. As she filled her plate with rice and curry, Mr. Yamane stands next to her, waiting for his turn.

It’s their favorite dish after all.

Determined not to spoil her good mood this morning, Yamaneko moves away as soon as she’s finished, not giving him an opportunity to speak to her. She stands next to Last Boss, good arm bumping with his, and she leans against him as he grabs a few sticks of yakitori.

“Could you take a few more for me, please? My plate is full,” she asks him, and with a small smile on his face, he grabs the entire tray, making her laugh.

They were about to leave for their room when people started running towards the outside of the building. Sunohara is among them, and Yamaneko shouts after her.

“Sunohara! What’s going on?”

Pausing, Sunohara has a worried look plastered on her face. “Someone jumped from the third floor of the hotel! I’m sorry, I have to go and see if they can be saved.”

Eyes trailing after the doctor, Yamaneko couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

A few hours later, she was called alongside her father by Rizuna An, the Beach’s number six, and an executive member. Last Boss came alongside her, being an executive member himself, and because he wanted to ensure her safety. However, Mr. Yamane’s new wife, who usually stuck to him like a lost pup, is nowhere to be found.

The militant has a bad feeling about this.

They were led to the lower levels of the hotel, to a room with various medical equipment and tools. Other executive members are waiting, including the Hatter and Aguni themselves. The ones loyal to the Hatter regard the members of the military sect with suspicion. Then, what Yamaneko saw behind them made her stop in her tracks.

On one of the gurneys lies Mrs. Yamane’s corpse.

Desensitized by all the death and violence in the borderland, could only stare with her mouth open. On the other hand, her father rushes to his wife’s side, shouting and crying.

“What happened?” Yamaneko asks, not moving from her spot.

“We thought it was a suicide, but there’s a laceration on the victim’s neck. She’s been murdered.”

Then it hit Yamaneko.

She is summoned because she’s a suspect.

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!seonghwa (part 22)

word count: 4k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 21) (series masterlist)

you had thought that after a few weeks, you and yeosang were gonna start to have hiccups. that your old banter and fighting and animosity towards one another would somehow rise to the surface, push past the sexual tension and attraction and show it's true colors again.

but your two-month anniversary was only a few weeks away and you two were still going strong. still exploring each other's likes and dislikes, annoying habits and quirks and finding out more and more that the unique magnetic pull between you two seems to be something very real.

if you guys weren't out on a date, walking through the park or trying out a new cafe, you were at his house, giggling and kissing one another before the night inevitability turned hot and heavy.

"you know, i don't think... we've ever finished a movie here," you tell yeosang breathily, the boy's strong hands on your waist as he kisses down your neck.

you had been testing him all night, curling yourself on his lap and wiggling with just a little too much purpose. wrapping your arms around his shoulders and ghosting your lips over his. running your fingers through his hair and letting your nails lightly scratch his scalp.

because you just love his reactions, love watching him smirk and try to ignore you until he eventually snaps. but he only hums against your skin, grounding you down more on his hardening groin causing you to let out a shaky gasp.

"maybe because you can't keep your hands to yourself," he says before pushing you down on your back, pressing his body against yours and taking your wrists in his hand.

you smirk at the sight of his red, puffy lips and messy hair; this is what you've been waiting for. his grip on your wrists as your arms stretch above your head, his ticking jaw and dark eyes shooting a jolt of excitement and warmth through you.

"you play with me on purpose, don't think i haven't caught on."

you lick your lips before pressing them into a firm line, attempting to show a look of indifference as you shake your head innocently. "i don't know what you're talking abo-"

his lips crash down on yours and you smile against them, arching your back in his hold before wrapping your legs around his waist. his hand tightens around your wrists ever so slightly at the new position, his tongue peeking out to invade your mouth.

you guys hadn't gone that whole way regarding sex but you've definitely done more than make out. because the amount of times his fingers have slipped inside your thong on this couch, your chest pushed flush against the fabric of the couch as you kneel between his legs and take his length in your mouth, was just a little embarrassing to think about. it had gotten to the point where he immediately invested in a set of blinds for the glass door.

and your teasing proves to be a success because, with your wrists still in hand, he's quick to pull down on your leggings and underwear with the other and circle around your clit. you moan out his name and it only spurs him on to apply more pressure before his pinky finger slides in your wet entrance.

"yeosang," you whine. because he knows that's not enough even though he already has your legs shaking.

"shut up," he growls, something hot and tingly burning deep in your stomach; it's incredibly ironic (and actually a little shameful) how quickly you listen to his harsh commands when you're under him opposed to in your normal day-to-day life.

"you do this to yourself every time, baby," yeosang mumbles, awarding you another finger when you do indeed shut up, before bringing his face to yours and placing a kiss on your mouth. "now you're gonna sit through the punishment."

"a punishment you say?" yunho says, throwing his arm around you as he guides you to your 4th period class that following monday. "and what exactly did that entail?"

"wouldn't you like to know," you tease, bumping into him playfully before squinting your eyes at him. "i'm sure mingi could show you it firsthand though."

you were 99% sure the boys were about to start dating and was 100% sure they both had crushes on each other.

because it was so sickeningly obvious, their banter and touches and gazes that always look far too sweet and loving for them to claim they're best friends. you had always noticed it but it became increasingly obvious after the day at the amusement park, when mingi had come back with seonghwa.

his gaze never left the boy, his rare hint of smile only appearing when yunho looked his way or said something funny.

"him giving me a punishment?" yunho laughs out, "i'd love to see him try."

"why?" you squeak, poking him in the side as you wiggle your eyebrows up at him. "because you have a crush on him?"

"no, my love," the boy says simply, humor in his tone as he watches you lean against the wall outside your classroom. he looks side to side, making sure the boy didn't somehow just appear, before he leans down to whisper in your ear. "because he's the biggest bottom i've ever seen."

a loud laugh erupts from you as you hit your friend in the arm, "yunho!"

"what! i'm just saying, y/n."

"so you've thought about it, then?" you ask, brewing with excitement at the budding romance between your two best friends. but he only rolls his eyes and shakes his head, insisting it was as easy to pick up on as the sky being blue.

"but...i couldn't tell that," you say, eyebrows pulled together in confusion and then even more when yunho throws his head back in laughter. "what is so funny!" you whine.

"nothing," he teases, biting his lip before a familiar looking face catches his eye. seonghwa passes the both of you quickly, your eyes meeting as he greets you both with a small smile and wave before he disappears into the classroom.

"yikes," the boy says under his breath. "and how's that going?"

you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders because that's the only way you can describe it. your relationship will probably never be the way it was before, just talking about anything and laughing with one another carelessly; because now you're lucky if you get more than ten words out of him when it's just you and him together.

"he'll say hi and stuff, ask how my weekend was and if i'm doing okay with my work," you tell him, "but apart from that...eh."

yunho quirks his lip to the side in dismay, frowning at the sight of you dejected. "it's still hard for him, i guess."

"i guess," you sigh, "but i should go in. i don't want you to be late." he smiles softly at you, tucking a piece of hair that fell out from your ponytail before nodding. "i'll see you at lunch."

you nod your head quickly before walking into the room, taking your usual seat in the back and passing seonghwa who never did move back to the empty one in front of you. you sit down and take your books out, ready again to look at the board and ignore the sight of the back of the boy's head mocking you.

but if you thought that was mocking, your teacher's words ten-minutes later completely rendered you a speechless fool.

you had known about the presentation due the day before christmas break and you had known that it would be with a partner - but you didn't know that she'd be picking them and you certainly didn't know you'd end up with no other than:

"park seonghwa," you hear right after your name is announced. your eyes widen as your teeth sink into your lower lip before you notice the boy two seats ahead of you stiffen immediately. you know this is probably the last thing he wants and that he has every right to be uncomfortable but the reaction still hurts your feelings.

you hear the girl next to you let out an annoyed scoff, turning your head to see her eyes narrowed at you with a fire you were once so used to building behind them. it's been quite some time since you got bullied, everyone deeming you harmless and not worth their time for which you were grateful; you had even almost forgotten everyone and their mother thinks you're a poor beggar.

but perhaps that's because now they've switched up their material.

the teacher dismisses the class five minutes early, sharing far too much about the amount of drinks she had this morning and her weak bladder, leaving all the students free to chat and pack their things up before the bell.

and that's when the girl and her minion take their chance, sit on their desks and spin themselves around as they cross their legs in a lousy attempt to box you in.

"you must be pretty happy about your partner," one of them says, tone and smile sweet as candy but you know these antics far too well by now to think she's being genuine.

"and why's that?" you ask, not about to beat around the bush or entertain her juvenile behavior.

and apparently it pisses her off that you didn't go all doe-eyed and feign innocence the way you used to, hit her with a naive 'of course i am, seonghwa's one of the top students.'

"because isn't it time to bounce back to him now?"

your eyebrow raises at the comment in surprise, turning your head to the side in confusion. "what?"

the girls look at each other and share a snide laugh. "really? you were up his ass the first month and a half of school," the other girl chimes in, her eyes ghosting over seonghwa who's talking to the boy in front of him. "and then all the sudden you drop him and start dating yeosang, his best friend nonetheless?"

"i wasn't up his ass, we were just..we're friends."

but the sinister, bitchy smirks on their faces don't care to hear that.

"we were just innocent little friends," the girl mocks with a laugh before a hard, serious look crosses her face. "like you weren't a second away from dating him before another boy looked your way."

"sounds like you're a whore to me," the peanut gallery chimes in again.

"a total whore," the girl says, smirking as she looks at you with tears brimming your eyes as anger and hurt stir in your stomach. "it was very distasteful, y/n, playing the two of them like that. you could've ruined a friendship."

"i wasn't dating, seonghwa," you say quietly, the same way your mind has repeated that statement to you over and over and over again these past few months.

"but you would've," she's quick to add, "because everyone knew how much he liked you." the girl's eyes again graze over to seonghwa who's head is turned straight in his friend's direction. "but you really messed up with your whoring around, huh? since he's not over here defending you."

"how sad," the girl says, "but if he did, i'm sure she'd be with him next week."

"they share her. gotta making herself money somehow."

and that's when you've had enough, wiping a tear that's rolled down your cheek before your chair scrapes on the floor and you quickly make your way out the door. you text mingi and yunho, praying that one of them can get out so you don't have to have this breakdown alone.

and it's a breakdown seonghwa knows you're gonna have which is why he immediately jumps up from his chair and over to the girls, the look on his face so angry and full of rage they almost regret messing with you.

"how many times do i have to tell you bitches to leave her alone?"

their faces drop at seonghwa's profanity, looking to one another in shock that seonghwa can only roll his eyes to.

"we were just trying to stick up for y-"

"just shut the fuck up, how 'bout that?" the boy growls, "you two don't know shit."

the girl's look at him in fear, getting more and more nervous at the anger directed at them; but it does nothing to simmer the boy.

"she's been through enough from all of you and she doesn't need anymore. so just stop. fucking. talking to her."

the girls can only blankly stare at him, the rest of the class sensing drama and falling silent.

"do you understand me?"

the girls swallow nervously, not sure if seonghwa even noticed how much he got in their face.

"forgot how to talk?" his loud, harsh voice growls out.

and lucky for them, they remember how to and quickly rush out swears that they won't talk to you anymore. but he only rolls his eyes and sneers at them, plopping back down in his seat as his foot jerks anxiously in hopes to get out of this room.

and lucky for you, mingi gets out of his class immediately. he ushers you into the nurse's office where you spend the next period crying and venting to the boy. asking him if those girls were right and if you were using both of them during that time. because you've even thought to yourself how you were once so sure about liking seonghwa and convinced you'd want to be with him.

"you were allowed to be confused, y/n," mingi tells you softly, "you had one hot guy and another..cute-ish guy after you." you pout and hit him playfully when even during a pep talk, he still finds time to make a dig at yeosang. "and you hadn't even be here that long and they were both coming on strong. it was exciting and there was no right way to handle it."

you let out a tiny sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder as he pats your back in awkward but comforting mingi fashion. "you hadn't given yourself to either of them, you weren't indebted to be with seonghwa just because he was nice to you."

and deep down, you know that, you've known that. but it hurt hearing it from an outside source. which mingi is quick to clarify that they didn't know what they were talking about, that they only said those things to hurt you and that you shouldn't let it work.

"besides..." the boy says after a few minutes, after you've smiled and wiped your tears. "it's not like you kissed both of them or something."

your face falls when you see the shit eating grin on mingi's face, who's quick to take your face in his hand and squeezing your cheeks teasingly. "that was mean," you mumble out, words morphed by his hold on your jaw before you rip your face away.

"it was kind of funny," the boy says despite the smile not dropping from his face. you both hear the bell ring for next period and you watch mingi's eyes light up at the sound. "c'mon, are you hungry? i'll willingly share my food with you."

"fine," you grumble out, eyes narrowing at him as you pick up your things. "but like i'll get a chance, yunho eats all the fruit in two seconds."

a scoff leaves the redhead as he nods his head, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you both make your way to the library.

and in a sick, twisted fate, the two girls who attacked you in class pass you by. they're quick to look at mingi, his harsh glare and lip curled in disgust causing them to advert their gaze to his hand on your shoulder before looking you dead in the face.

"great, that's just great," you whine to the boy next to you, "and my body count raises to three. i can't wait for the shit they're about to say tomorrow, probably gonna tell the whole class i have an std or something."

a snort leaves mingi as he shakes his head and tightens his hold on you. "i love you but i don't know if i'd ever kiss you."

a sarcastic laugh leaves your mouth as you shake your head, being sure to look right at him when you say "that's because you're a bottom!"

he stops in his tracks and his arm falls from your shoulders when the words leave your mouth, a mix of shock, embarrassment and amusement on his face. "what..what did you just say to me?"

"don't think i don't know these things," you say to him, "it's as obvious as the sky being-"

"y/n."

the deep voice immediately causes you to turn around; you haven't heard him say your name like that in months. seonghwa's looking at you and mingi almost apprehensively, an unsure look on his face probably due to the fact he heard people ream into you about being a whore and using him...but who's to know really.

"hi, seonghwa."

the two of you hold each other's gaze amidst the busy, bustling hallway, the both of you waiting on the other to respond or say anything else. but mingi's quick to break the tension, despite his own confusion about being called out less than a second ago, telling you he'll give you two a minute and will see you in the library.

you and seonghwa both nod before walking off to the side, out of harms way from bustling students and oversized backpacks smacking into you. he's leaned against the wall, teeth between his lip as he watches you look at the floor and play with your hands nervously.

"are you okay?" he asks and the scene is so familiar, it brings the slightest pang of pain to his chest.

his eyes move further down, brows knitting as his stomach sinks because just the mention of this party has you nervous, has your hands folded into one another and fingers fiddling nervously; he feels the familiar feeling of guilt start to creep in his veins at that moment.

"come with me?" he mumbles suddenly, placing his warm hand over the both of yours and rubbing them calmingly before taking one in his grasp.

"are you gonna be okay tonight?" he asks quietly, taking a step closer to you and causing you to bite the inside of your cheek nervously, "i...we can do something else if you want."

a shy smile makes its way on your face, you heart warming at the gesture and the sincerity in his eyes. because it's so thoughtful and sweet and your heart continually melts when he shows time and time again how considerate he is.

but you don't wanna ruin the fun nor do you want that event to taint any other experience you might and will have. it appears though that even with your positive and strong thoughts, it doesn't translate to your body's natural nervous reaction. doesn't stop your stomach from feeling queasy or your mind start to race with the hazy memories.

you're suddenly very interested in the pictures on the wall behind him, eyes darting to take in the drawings and snapshots of the ski lodge throughout the years. the picturesque town, an overview shot from the ski lift at sunset, snow-covered tree, the-

his warm hand on your jaw moves your face ever so slightly so your eyes immediately fall back on him, your tongue darting out to lick your lips nervously and you don't miss the way his eyes follow it.

"y/n?" he hums, head cocked to the side as he looks at you, his gaze gentle and patient.

"no, i can...we can go, i'll be okay," you stutter out, your head turning to look at the table of excited boys throwing crumbs at each other.

"are you sure?" he asks, noticing where your gaze shifts and letting out a sigh, "they won't mind, you know."

"thank you," you say softly, turning back to him face, "but i promise it's okay, i...i think it'll be fun. we can dance."

a soft smile makes its way on his face and he has to suppress a laugh thinking about the kind of dancing you think is appropriate at a party.

"you're two left feet say otherwise," he quips, letting out a laugh when you smack his chest lightly.

"shut up!"

"yeah," you say quietly, ripping him from his memories as he finally notices your eyes on him. "i'm just...i'm sorry you had to hear that. it was embarrassing."

"they're just stupid," he says to you, the angry growl seeping back into his voice. "and they don't even know what they're talking about."

you swallow down the lump making its way in your throat as you nod at him, feeling grateful he's not standing here and yelling at you that they were, instead, absolutely correct. there's a few moments of a slightly awkward silence before a strangled giggle leaves your mouth.

"hey, at least they stopped calling me your poor maid."

and to both your surprises, he lets out a laugh as he shakes his head to the side. "i forgot you were my maid."

"hm guess i've been doing a shitty job, then."

another chuckle leaves his mouth and your eyes meet again, the guarded glint in his eye making you falter ever so slightly. but it only lasts for a few seconds, him quickly moving his gaze to the library before he mentions you guys being partners for the project.

"oh...yeah," you say, your voice dragging out at the end because you don't wanna say the wrong thing and make him feel weird. because is he gonna suggest asking the teacher to make a switch? or be completely fine and start talking about topic ideas and meeting places?

you don't wanna presume anything but then you're pleasantly surprised to find out it's the latter, him telling you it'll probably be best to meet in the library after school one day.

because he doesn't think it'll be...appropriate to have you back over his house or in his bedroom. and he also doesn't hate himself enough to try and put his weepy, fragile heart through that.

"so we'll start meeting next week after school?" you confirm, your bright smile causing his heart to constrict.

"yeah," he says, meeting your smile with one of his own and for a split second, you remember why your stomach and heart used to flutter to a dangerous degree.

you send him one last smile and take a few steps before he calls out your name again. you quickly spin back around to see his tooth in his lip, his hand on the back of his neck that you remember is a nervous tick.

"i'm not mad about anything," he tells you, "i know i've been awkward and distant lately but i...just need you to know i'm not mad at you, okay?"

you feel stupid tears sting behind your eyes, his soft voice and softer words causing you to smile and nod at him. and because you don't think you can get any other words out, you can only get out "okay."

"okay?" your voice confirms sweetly and a smile of his own finally makes it's way on his face. it's small but it's there and your stomach is fluttering at the sight of it.

"okay."

a tiny giggle suddenly bubbles out of you and he looks at you strangely, eyebrows furrowed but eyes holding a certain fondness at hearing you laugh after such an intense few minutes.

"did you see that movie?"

his eyebrow raises, eyes looking at you questioningly as he removes his hand from your face and a gasp falls from your lips.

"hazel and augustus? terminal cancer? the anne frank house?"

his look of confusion only deepens, looking at you as if you've spoken another language.

"i wish i had any idea what you were talking about," he says, sarcasm dripping in his tone and a scoff leaves your mouth as you roll your eyes.

"ugh and the stupid rich boy is back," you tease sarcastically, eyebrows shooting up playfully as you poke his chest daringly.

he smirks thinking back to you muttering to yourself in class with your flushed cheeks and babbling and he can't help but scoot a little bit closer to you in the bed.

you know the memory smacks you both in the face when your eye contact breaks, you taking a few steps back and him shaking his head as his gaze hits the floor. "see you tomorrow," he says gruffly and then before you can even respond, he's gone and around the corner.

you walk into the library with a sigh, plopping down in your usual seat and running your hands through your hair until yunho's bubbly voice pierces your ears.

"you told mingi he was a bottom? where did you ever get that idea?"

(part 23)

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4: New Game Patch (June 3rd, 2020)

There’s a new Sims 4 PC update available via Origin.

Remove all MODS and Custom Content before updating your game

Update 06/03/2020 PC: 1.63.133.1020 / Mac: 1.63.133.1220 Console: Version 1.25

The Sims 4 Eco Lifestyle Expansion Pack drops in just a mere few days, and since we know that living your best Eco Lifestyle can take a little extra elbow grease, we’ve added some exciting quality-of-life improvements to help pave the way.

Between Inventory updates, new CAS assets from a surprise partnership with M·A·C, the return of two beloved NPCs, as well as some really cool new Build features, we hope you enjoy the update.

-SimGuruJill & SimGuruRusskii

NEW & IMPROVED FEATURES

INVENTORY UPDATES

Fellow hoarders, this one’s for you: We have updated the Sim Inventory with the ability to Filter, Sort, Favorite, Multi-Select, and Multi-Sell in one easy flick of the wrist. Managing that cumbersome pile of collectables you’ve been racking up for the past five years has never been so easy!

FREE PLACEMENT OF DOORS AND WINDOWS

Following in true Eco Lifestyle fashion, Door and Window placement is now also Off-the-Grid. But not that kind of grid. The limiting kind of tile grid that used to keep you from placing your windows and doors precisely where you wanted them. By holding down the Alt key while dragging, you can enjoy the smooth sensations of free Door and Window placement.

LADDERS

Ladders have been added as part of the Build System. Find your free Classic Wooden Ladder in the Build catalog in the Stairs (& Ladders) category. Unlike Island Living’s Dock and Ladder objects for use on water lots, these Ladders can be placed anywhere on your lot and like stairs, they can be used as a means for Sims to traverse from one floor to another.

M·A·C COSMETICS

Did you say you needed some fresh looks for your Sims? We’ve collaborated with none other than M·A·C Cosmetics to bring you 12 fashion-forward makeup assets suited for everything from everyday to night out glam. If you’re not already using it, on PC and Mac we recommend trying out the “Uncompressed Sim Textures” setting in the Options Menu, which is now enabled by default on the High and Ultra graphics settings profiles in order to see these looks really shine. While console versions of The Sims 4 do not have the setting in the Options Menu, each console spec is automatically using the optimal graphical settings based on system resources.

REPO PERSON NPC

The Repo Person NPC has graduated with honors from Discover University’s University of Britechester with a Degree in Villainy and has comfortably taken up residence in Base Game. Now everyone can taste their wrath if Bill payments fall behind.

BILLS UPDATE

Speaking of Bills, we’ve added a cohesive breakdown of Sim’s Bills information that can be accessed via an interaction on the Mailbox or Phone. Now instead of lumping everything together, you can see what percentage of your Bills go to Water, what percentage go to Power, insight into any Fees, Reductions, or Penalties. All this and more, calculated and cleanly presented for your finer understanding.

LEGACY NEIGHBORHOOD MAP TAGS

We have gone back and added Map Tags with Neighborhood Descriptions to existing neighborhoods that didn’t yet have them. We now have delightful icons, names, and descriptions for the no-longer-forgotten Willow Creek, Oasis Springs, Newcrest, and Windenburg. Ok, feel free to freak out now.

OFF-THE-GRID UPDATES

This one is tricky to list out in a single paragraph with attempted wit, so I’ll just drop this bullet list off right here:

The Off-the-Grid Lot Trait now ties into our new Bill updates, drawing from Water and Power utility. Without excess utility, lots function off-the-grid as they did before. With excess utility, they function more like an on-the-grid lot.

There is a new Off-the-Grid Build category that will allow players to find Off-the-Grid and survival-esque objects.

We've done a pass on candles to ensure they properly work when electricity is out.

Off-the-Grid supported Fridges now have an "Add Ice" interaction that will allow them to keep food preserved—so long as the ice remains!

Sim will now autonomously use stoves and fridges when Off-the-Grid, not just grills.

Harvestables now grant unique buffs when consumed off-the-grid.

Dogs and Toddlers now have a unique interaction to be bathed in Bathtubs even when Off-the-Grid.

Objects can now be cleaned using the "Use Elbow Grease" interaction. Yummy.

Players are able to gather Water utility from fishing spots in base game. With Island Living they can gather from the waterfall. Water can also be gathered from any world with swimmable 'ocean' water. With Seasons, water can be gathered from snow drifts.

Off-the-Grid specific buffs will now take into account motives and Sim traits when determining if a Sim should receive a positive or negative moodlet when living Off-the-Grid.

We've added multiple new recipes that can be cooked while Off-the-Grid given a Sim has the proper cooking skill level. Some recipes require special ingredients like the Boiling Frog Hot Pot—which adds a really neat survival element to off-the-grid gameplay, while providing Sims with powerful new moodlets that will help them survive in the wild.

NO TRESPASSING

Some people who have the Vampires Game Pack appreciate Vlad’s antics more than others. I personally love receiving a charming visit from Vlad, and sometimes I could really use a kind compliment about my neck. But we’ve heard there are a select few that don’t quite like having their Sim’s necks bitten and motives tanked by an invasive nighttime visitor with no respect for boundaries. Keep Vampires and other unwanted visitors at bay with a new No Trespassing interaction we’ve added to the Door.

SEND HOME INTERACTION

Speaking of unwelcome visitors, we’ve also added a new Send Home interaction that’s available on visiting NPCs or as a self-interaction in the case of multiple visitors. How is this interaction any different from Ask To Leave or Go Away, you might ask? Convenience. Unlike its less efficient predecessors, this interaction is nearly instantaneous and leaves your visitors with no hurt feelings or Relationship impact. We added it as a useful tool for players, not necessarily as a story-telling mechanism.

BUILD MODE ITEMS GRANT GAMEPLAY EFFECTS

How you build your lot can now affect your gameplay. Certain objects such as wall patterns, floor patterns, fences, and columns bring different gameplay modifiers. Some of these modifiers affect how your Bills and utilities are calculated by decreasing or increasing your Power or Water utility production or usage, as well increasing or decreasing the price of bills. Environment Score can now be impacted by certain objects and materials. Drywall walls without wall patterns applied now decrease environment score like they did in The Sims 3! The choice of floor and wall materials used can also affect the ability to spread fire or puddles at an increased or lessened rate. And if you’d rather build your lot without having to think about these things, don’t worry. There’s an Option in the Gameplay menu to turn all of this off.

FIREFIGHTER NPC

Oh hey, and speaking of Fire, that reminds me. Did you hear that we’ve added Firefighter NPCs to the game? We took nods from classic Firefighter NPC behavior from The Sims, The Sims 2, and The Sims 3 and added a few small twists for The Sims 4. When a fire breaks out, Firefighters will come automatically to your lot if you already have a Fire Alarm installed. That way, if you still like to let things burn baby burn, you can just “accidentally” forget to place a Fire Alarm. It’s okay. We won’t tell anybody. If you honestly did forget to place a Fire Alarm, you can call the Fire Department from the Phone or by clicking on the fire itself. If the Fire Department is called, but there is not an active fire, they will call you on your lapse in judgement and charge you a fine. You won’t be punished if there was legitimately a fire that was extinguished before they arrive though. The Firefighter Uniform can be accessed in CAS and gives any Sim wearing it the Fireproof Buff, which gives them some extra protection against fires as well as make them more efficient at putting out fires themselves. It’s worth noting that Firefighter NPC’s do not show up in Island Living’s Sulani. Sulani already has their local Fire Brigade to handle these kinds of emergencies and besides, who wants to wear all that heavy Firefighter gear in the tropics?

STYLED LOOKS FOR TOTS AND KIDS

More than 20 New Styled Looks have been added for Children and Toddlers, using existing Base Game CAS assets to better flesh out some outfit categories that previously felt sparse.

BALANCING PASS OF PHONE CALL INVITATIONS

After five years of Expansion Packs, Game Packs, and Stuff Packs our phone call invites were admittedly starting to get a little spammy. Moments after moving in, you’ve got Lucas Munch hitting you up, asking you to go to the Bluffs with him. Then not long after, you might have had Vivian Lewis asking you to join her at The Spice Festival. Jeez, let me get settled in first, why don’t ya? We’ve done a tuning pass to rebalance all of these previously competing Phone invites to give you a more meaningful and holistic experience.

LESS INVASIVE EARBUDS

In the same vein as the above balancing pass, we wanted to smooth out one of our more pressing notifications. The free earbuds pop-up that comes with Fitness Stuff has been changed to a more passive TNS and gifts your Sim the earbuds automatically when it triggers. The days of telling the game over and over that you don’t want free earbuds, or worse - hitting OK by accident - is a thing of the past.

CONSOLE UPDATES

Eco Lifestyle releasing on the same day across all platforms marks an important milestone for The Sims 4 as Simmers get to play the same content and share new creations on The Gallery together. In this update Console Simmers have a few additional features to improve their quality of life:

We have added a new Controls Overlay Reminder that shows up throughout CAS, Gallery, Live Mode and Build Mode which should make it easier for new Simmers to jump in and not need to remember all the controls.

If you don’t want to be reminded and you know all the controls by heart, you can turn off the Controls Overlay Reminder in the Game Options > Other menu

The controller overlay screens remain available for those who want them.

Now onto the fixes and updates:

The Sims 4

macOS players should no longer encounter the setLocale.zsh error. However, both Origin and TS4 must be up to date.

Sims will not have random accessories or clothing pieces when changing into towels.

Style Influencer Sims can now remove trends they have created, with the Reset Trend interaction.

Fixed an issue where Sims were not able to Care for Self after they had been in daycare when they were a Toddler.

Some roofs were updated to remove the appearance of black sides when placed on ceilings.

Active Sims will no longer get a Tense moodlet for lack of exercise when finishing exercising. Do you even push up bro?

Sims will no longer get the Fatigued moodlet immediately after starting a workout. Now, we know that endurance takes time to build, but we decided to give Sims a chance to enjoy their workout before being completely fatigued right away.

Child Sims will now be able to unlock the Video Gaming Skill after they have maxed out their Mental Skill instead of their Motor Skill, which was causing adult skills to reset for Child Sims when they completed aspirations.

Fixed an issue in which some Households did not have their names displayed in Manage Worlds.

Corrected requirements for completing the Great Landscaper task that is part of the Mansion Baron Aspiration.

Fixed an issue in which when utilities are shut off (either because of past due bills or Off-The-Grid) adding objects from Build Mode such as Lamps, would add them turned On.

The Water Pump, Fishing Holes, Romantic Garden’s Whispering Wishing Well, and Get Famous’s Luminary’s Exotic Water Garden now have the Gather Water interaction when the Off-the-Grid Lot Trait is applied.

Fixed an issue in which the Subtle Saucer Light was not being so subtle and made objects added from Build Mode be placed randomly when dragged near it.

Teen Sims will now see the appropriate tooltip when trying to acquire the Fertile Trait from the Rewards Store. No, they are not Robots.

Fixed an issue in which some Roof Eaves were clipping into enclosed blocks.

Fixed an issue in which the Clean Up interaction would drop off the queue if dirty dishes were placed on a counter.

Since we added a new trash bike to Eco Lifestyle, we’ve made the bicycle helmet available for everyone in CAS. Now you can outfit your Sim in a helmet, regardless of owning a pack that includes bikes.

Sims will now not receive occasional text messages asking them for a Date from other Sims that they are not romantically involved with. Because it was aaaakward…

Toddler Sims will not be able to Ask for Mentoring on some in progress mentoring interactions to strangers. Except for “Invite to Bob to Music” because we can dance if we want to, we can leave our friends behind, ‘cause your friends don’t dance and if they don’t dance well... they’re not friends of mine.

Fixed an issue with textures for the tops and landings on some Staircases.

Fixed an issue that did not allow randomizer to work correctly when Male Sims had Makeup on Create a Sim.

Plants can now be placed closer to foundations with moveobjects cheat enabled, as long as most of the plant's footprint is outside of the foundation.

Fixed an issue in which Simoleons were not added to Household Funds when moving and selling furniture.

Fixed an issue in which previewing certain windows on diagonal walls reverted their color back to the default color swatch.

Simmers on macOS Catalina and Intel Iris Plus Graphics 640 GPU will no longer experience seeing a squared shadow under their Sims.

Fixed an issue with the Wooden Prairie-Style Two-Panel door in which color swatches were not displaying correctly on both sides of the door.

Sims now can dispose of packed lunches that have spoiled. Out, foul food!

Fixed some oddness with disappearing Stairs within enclosed courtyards.

Fixed a Stair issue with Landings not working properly on lots with raised foundations and basements. Sims will no longer walk through walls and things should now look appropriate.

Fixed missing Career Promotion screens for careers in various packs.

Fixed User Interface elements and Icons across multiple packs.

Spandrels can now be properly applied on Fences.

Stairs will now not shrink when increasing Foundation heights.

Get Together

Fixed an issue in which non local Sim Townies would spawn in Windenburg’s Island, now named The Crumbling Isle.

Fixed an issue that caused an error to occur when deleting or editing Clubs.

As much as Windenburgians (Windenburgers? Windenburguese? Windenburglites?) love visitors from other worlds, they have voted them off the Island. Sorry, not sorry!

City Living

Fixed an issue that caused time to be desynchronized at Speed 3. Bending the space time continuum no more!

Vet Clinics can no longer be placed in Penthouses.

Yard Sale customers will no longer wander inside Sims’ houses and interact with their belongings. While prospective buyers are nice to have in any sale, this was just rude, this is NOT a Welcome Wagon.

Cats & Dogs

Game progress will no longer be lost when editing/adding/deleting career outfits in Create a Sim.

Fixed an issue that made Pets’ needs to not be fulfilled if not playing an active household.

Pets’ ehm… poop is now able to be used as plant fertilizer. Happy gardening!

Seasons

Sims can now sell Flowers in stacks from their Inventory.

Sims will now appropriately put their Umbrellas away before performing some interactions. Because WooHoo while having an Umbrella out in the open, seems complicated, we are not judging… but seems complicated.

Fixed an issue that made Simmer created Holidays in the Calendar populate after a season ended.

Father Winter will now be able to remove his beard and change in Create a Sim if he is part of an active Household. But who would dare shave Father Winter’s beard?? Who?!

Get Famous

Fixed the issue with the Actor Career where Sims were unable to complete their gig when they would travel and return home before it was time for the gig.

Island Living

Lotta Cocolatas will now be made with actual Coconuts taken from Sims’ Inventories. What were they made from before? We will never know! Never accept imitation Lotta Cocolatas… never!

Fixed an issue in which some quick meals were requiring a Microwave while being Off-The-Grid when it is not needed. Yogurt needing a microwave? I think not!

Mermaids in Create a Sim will no longer be able to have their Traits randomized. This allows them to keep their Mermaidism, as well as their air of mystery and charm.

Mermaids now will wear appropriate career outfits when going to work. So I can picture this now, Mermaids as Doctors would be a great TV show.

Fixed an issue in which some Island Living Tank Tops were categorized incorrectly in Create a Sim.

Mermaid Children made in Create a Sim will now grow up to be fully-functioning Mer-dults.

The Go To Work button for Odd Jobs has been fixed for Sims on Vacation.

The Eyedropper tool will now work on Stilts instead of only working on the Foundation Trims.

Fixed an issue in which Sims in Off-The-Grid lots were showering constantly. Now they will shower when appropriate. Though, with this heatwave, anything goes in my opinion!

“Dr. Mermaid/Merman, what do you recommend?

“I am prescribing some Vitamin Sea”

Give Russkii more coffee please...

Discover University

Student Sims will not lose their Term Presentations Boards when signing up for another term.

Simmers with Seasons additionally installed: Student Sims will no longer receive Academic Probation if they were on planned Holidays through the Calendar.

Student Sims will no longer be labeled as Graduate after completing the Graduation Ceremony. Congratulations!

Fixed an issue in which homework assignment progression was too slow and timers might have been missing in some instances.

Fixed an issue in which Sims were taking showers fully clothed. As much as the current heat wave is giving us creative ideas to cool off, it would be more efficient to not be fully clothed when showering.

Hair Style ymHair_EP08MensShavedPonytail_Black has been updated for Teens, Adults, and Elders to display all swatches. Similarly yfHair_EP08ShortBobBraid_Black has been fixed to appear as an option for Teens.

Sims that re-enroll in University after graduating or dropping out, can now rejoin their Secret Society. Likewise, if Sims get suspended and re-enrolls their progress will not be lost.

Fixed an issue with the "Gameday Glute Accommodator" chair that occasionally could make Sims invisible if they placed it in their Inventory. We don’t know what other powers the "Gameday Glute Accommodator" may have but invisibility is now not one of them.

Sims in the Law Career can now Attend Depositions from their Computers and Phones. Because you don’t need to break your computer to complete an assignment, that seems impractical.

Vampire Coffins and Sleeping Pods can now count as Beds in University Dorms.

Fixed an issue in which the Write and Publish Research Paper interaction would disappear from the options if it was cancelled midway. I mean, I understand rage quitting something but not to the point of my options to do it disappearing...amirite?

Fixed an issue with yfBody_EP08DressParty_SolidPurple in which pendant necklaces were not able to be seen if this asset was worn by Sims.

Fixed an issue that could make the Soccer interaction Study Plays with drop out from the interaction queue.

Corrected Final Exam Requirements for Elective Courses to say that for studying they need to do so on Computers or Research Machines.

To anyone who may have noticed the tiny head effect in the thumbnails if you wore the Dragon or the Lobster mascot costume without their hats, that issue has been fixed.

Humanoid Robots will no longer be able to have Traits or Aspirations modified in Create a Sim. You are a real Sim to me Robot friend, you are to me.

If a Sim already knows about the Secret Society, is it still a secret? Time will tell.

Outdoor Retreat

Herbalism recipes can now work while Off-The-Grid, however only on Off-The-Grid supported stoves.

Dine Out

Random NPCs will not leave Hamburgers on tables at restaurants anymore. As much as we like to receive free food, we don’t think it is proper to get them randomly from a stranger.

Vampires

Vampire Sims working on the Master Vampire Aspiration will no longer have the task “Survive for an Additional 20 Days as a Vampire” reset after traveling.

Vampire Sims with Full Sun Resistance are now able to properly tend to gardens and not tend to plants one at a time.

Fixed an issue in which you could set the Registered Vampire Lair Lot Trait for Venues.

Vampire child ears can now be changed after being aged-down from adult Dark Form.

The Rustic Candle Chandelier now has flame effects on the candles.

Jungle Adventure

Fans/Stans will no longer follow their adored celebrity into the jungles of Selvadorada.

Realm Of Magic

Spellcasters have regained access to Styled Looks.

Fixed an issue in which a Tank Top belonging to this pack was not categorized correctly in Create a Sim.

Hot Tubs that have been upgraded to unbreakable will no longer be broken upon performing the Zipzap Spell.

A Spellcaster is never not in vogue, but it’s always nice to have options.

Moschino

We fixed an issue in which some hotkeys in Photo Mode (particularly E and Q) were not working.

After popular demand, the Libearian bookend will now cost Simoleons. Nothing’s for free, nothing’s for freeee... take it away!

Tiny Living

Murphy beds will now be more resilient after first use. Warranty terms pending.

Fixed an issue in which Game Consoles were not usable with the all in one entertainment systems.

Fixed an issue in which Hair Styles from this pack appeared with their color swatches out of order in Create a Sim.

Fixed an issue in which Sims could not Put Bed Up their Murphy Beds after WooHoo.

We have also adjusted their pricing and comfort levels, bang for your buck!

Now the “Media Marathoner All on the Wall” will be actually the Media Marathoner All on the Wall.

[solarianvoidthearoace]

Excerpt#4 from my JonGerry AU WiP

CN/TW: brief discussion of psychiatric medication, amiable/loving insults and banter

Gerry swallowed, putting his phone down on the table and grabbing their mug.

„Okay, what now?“, Jon shifted his elbow on the table, leaning closer. Gerry just sighed, handing over his phone, the messages with Gertrude still open. Jon raised a brow,

„So Michael gossiped“, he shrugged,

„I don’t see why you’re suddenly this tense.“ Gerry cleared their throat, taking his phone back and looking at Jon,

„Yes, well, I know my last art show was months ago, back when we were still feeling this out. Us. But actually, I do want to invite you to my art show“, they slowly smiled.

„Jon, would you like to come with to this art show? It’s primarily my work getting displayed but the rest of the gallery is open for the event as well. And while I know tickets and all sounds like it’s this scary exclusive high class thing, it’s more of a formality“, they made a placating gesture, expression a bit awkward,

„So they know who is associated with the organisation and to keep track of who is actually there to buy something.“ He shrugged, looking at Jon with an expression he thought wasn’t too hopeful. Jon just leaned even closer, pressing a kiss to their cheek,

„I’d love to come with.“ Cupping Jon’s face, Gerry turned their head, kissing him properly.

„Martin is also invited of course, I’ll send you the calendar entry so you can ask him about it when you’re out today.“

It was a Friday, the next day. Jon only worked a half the day, due to his half-year check-in with his psychiatrist. It somehow had happened to fall into the same week as Martin’s endocrinologist appointment. He was home rather soon because of that, allowing himself to sneak up on Gerry. Obviously he didn’t want to intrude on his partner’s workspace, but if they happened to be anywhere else in the loft? Jon wasn’t afraid to admit he was somewhat of a cuddle-kraken.

Where he found Gerry was in the bathroom, but the door was open so Jon poked his head in. Bend over the sink, Gerry was picking at strands of his hair, applying dye. They did spot Jon via the mirror, though.

„You’re home early“, slowly setting the strand aside so it wouldn’t smack him in the face.

„And you’re trying to do a full touch-up of your dye job on your own“, Jon sighed. Before Gerry could answer, Jon chucked off his sweater and went looking for their package of disposable gloves.

„Thank you“, their grin was a bit lopsided. Jon just rolled his eyes,

„Yea, yea, twerp. Just the roots?“ Snapping on the gloves, he took the brush Gerry held out.

„It’s black, doll. Not like it will get blotchy if there’s too much. Just needs to cover everything properly.“ Jon sighed, giving a gentle push so Gerry would tilt their head as he needed to part the hair. Before he actually started anything, though, he handed the brush back and went over to the shower to get the shower stool. Not doing the dye job himself, Gerry didn’t exactly need to stand to look into the mirror. Gerry held the bowl for him, ducking their head this way and that, so Jon could reach every area that was left. They remained in comfortable silence for some time.

„Why do you even still dye your hair yourself?“, Jon finally asked, using the pointed handle of the applicator brush to shift some strands.

„I just got used to it“, Gerry shrugged,

„Also I did step up my game. I started using proper salon-grade hair colour some years back.“ Jon snorted,

„Yea, I got curious and looked up the conditioner you use, once“, he shook his head. As good as they could, Gerry shot him a glare through the mirror. Jon actually blew him a kiss in reiteration, before he grinned.

„My appointment went well, by the way.“ Gerry raised a brow, he hadn’t been about to ask.

„Apparently my newly changed living situation benefits my mental health, as far as my psychiatrist was willing to dip into psychologist territory“, Jon continued, shrugging,

„I mean, obviously my anxiety dropped. Within the range that’s somewhat usual for general anxiety disorder, so there’s that. But unless I notice anything specific, eh. This positive change in my life isn’t a reason to change my medication or dosage. I’m honestly fine with that decision.“ Gerry hummed in understanding. Reaching up his hand that wasn’t holding the colour bowl, they gave Jon’s hand a squeeze,

„Understandable. Changing medication is a pain in the ass.“ Jon nodded empathetically,

„Oh, that does remind me“. He paused while he looked through the sections he had made of Gerry’s hair. Nodding to himself, he grabbed the disposable shower cap from the sink. Twisting Gerry’s hair up to get it all into the cap, he smiled when they helped fixating the loose tangle for a moment.

„Where was I? Oh, yes. So, when I was out with Martin yesterday, he said he had to pick up his hormones. We stopped by here real quick and I took your prescription with to the apothecary. Restock is in the mirror cabinet.“ He pointed over to the part of the long mirror cabinet where they kept their medication,

„I know you keep them in the bedroom but since it didn’t seem urgent, I figured I would just put them there.“ Checking one last time the cap sat properly, Jon finally pulled off his gloves.

As soon as Gerry had disposed of the colour bowl as well as his own gloves, they turned and took Jon’s hands in his.

„Thank you. Was I asleep while you snuck around here?“ He raised a brow, expression teasing. Jon rolled his eyes,

„Either that or holed up downstairs. It’s not like I checked, dipshit.“ Gerry hummed, tilting their head and giving Jon a scrutinising look. Leaning back against the sink to stabilise themself, Gerry pulled Jon in, gently moving him around until he sat across his lap. Hugging him, he pressed a kiss to Jon’s neck.

„I really appreciate you taking care of me, doll.“ Jon huffed, rolling his eyes,

„It’s not like it was lengths to go to or anything. Sure, Martin did give me a look about it.“ He shrugged. At that, Gerry looked up, giving him a quizzical look, Jon waved it away.

„He knows my brand of antidepressants by now, not like it changed. But the packet-size is rather universal anyway, so I honestly didn’t feel the need to explain this to him. It’s your business. It is easy enough to figure out if he actually caught what type of medication it is but I don’t really think so…?“, Jon scratched at his neck. Gerry grinned, before putting on a mock-scandalised expression,

„Are you keeping things from your boyfriend, on my behalf?“ That just earned him an elbow to the stomach, thanks to Jon’s position.

„Oh shut up, twerp.“ The accompanying huff was unmistakably on the fond side of exasperation. They just grinned again,

„Hm, no. But maybe I will let myself get convinced to put my mouth to better use than running it.“

With how involved Gerry had managed to get Jon, a bit of the hair colour paste had smudged onto Jon’s shoulder, discolouring the strap of his undershirt. Besides that, it had been a nice and quiet weekend for the two of them. And also the last one before Gerry got wrapped up in the acute preparations of the art show. The next couple of weeks turned out rather busy. Working with Gertrude’s team to set up in the gallery meant he had to switch their daily routine, as far as it existed, to that of someone working eight-to-five. Lining it up with Jon’s nine-to-five if it hadn’t been for the librarian-slash-archivist’s overtime.

It was getting a bit hectic, though. Meaning, they did reduce their shifts at the bar for the time being. Gerry, first off, had to work actual day-time hours to be involved in the organisation. On top of adhering to Gertrude’s instructions to them as the artist. Which basically summed up to the equivalent of working over-time as well. So his work schedule almost lined up with Jon’s after all. It was nice, to get home around the same time as their partner, or only having just arrived when the front door clicked.

Gertrude was strict but she also knew not to overwork them, meaning she cut Gerry some slack in lieu of being helpful with the event organisation. Not that they got payed for the administrative help or basically doing the same job as Michael for the time being.

But at least she didn’t push any commissions at him until the art show and follow-up around the sales would be done. In those weeks, he actually was off work when he got home. This, of course, also entailed there wasn’t much time Gerry was working when Jon brought Martin with him. Meaning, they were about anywhere in the loft except for the atelier.

“Uhm, what is the dress code for the event?”, Martin spoke up at some point during an evening at the loft. Jon paused,

“Actually I haven’t thought about that. He didn’t exactly mention anything, so I figured something around business casual?”, he didn’t look all that sure. Humming, Jon got up from the couch,

“They should be upstairs so I’ll just go ask.” Martin nodded, suddenly sitting a bit stiffer than he did before, making Jon smile,

“You can come along, you know?”

On the upper floor of the loft, the bedroom door was leant, a thin gap visible. Still, Jon thought it better to check,

“Gerry, are you decent in there?” From the inside came a snort, followed by a chuckled reply,

“Morally? Never! I’m wearing pants, though, if that was the root of your concern.” Rolling his eyes, Jon turned to Martin so someone would see his long-suffering expression.

“Since we pretty much corrupted each other in our youth, of course I meant the pants, dipshit!”, he snarled back,

“Martin’s with me and I don’t want any of us to have a weird situation here.” Some clattering and rustling came from behind the door,

“Come on in, then. No need to keep talking through the door, four-eyes.” With that, Jon pushed the door open and walked in, allowing Martin to enter after him. Gerry sat on their bed, still in their black jeans from when he had been to the gallery. But they had changed the button shirt Gertrude had forced upon him in favour of his pastel hoodie. Sitting cross legged near the foot-end, he was still in the process of tying his hair back.

“So, what’s up?”

“Ah, well…”, Martin’s voice came out even more meek than usual, probably from the nervousness of standing in someone else’s bedroom,

“I was wondering about the event you invited us to. First, thanks again, of course. I’m really excited about seeing your work, properly displayed even. Secondly, while I know the appointed time and everything, I was wondering whether there will be a dress-code.” At that, Gerry blinked, before humming.

“Well… for me, I have to stick to whatever Trudie will force me to wear that night, since I’m posing as her assistant again. But the general event dress-code is somewhere between smart casual and business casual, I think.” They turned and stretched to grab his phone from the bedside table,

“I’ll ask Sasha.”

While they waited on the reply, Jon’s brow creased,

“So you’re forced into… what? Business attire? I really can’t picture that.” Gerry rolled his eyes,

“More like cocktail attire. Not exactly a distinction to business dress but Gertrude is giving us all some leeway, as long as we look official enough. Last time Sasha wore a floaty silk blouse over high-waisted slacks”, they shrugged,

“Along those lines, I guess. I always try matching her in terms of formal dress, it’s at least more coherent than whatever Michael has got going on at any time.”

[occasionalhumor]

Makumakuren Chapter 1

Chapter Art by @corvaous​ (see below)​

Also available on AO3

[CW: Blood, abuse+violence (various), illegal activity] 

Summary:  An AU where Keigo was born with his mom’s quirk. His dad is a notorious criminal and known for stealing precious jewelry and fine art. The Takami Thief is a small team that rules the underworld with valuable items and, with the help of the Tokoyami family, has expanded internationally. But what happens if Keigo grows up with a collection of golden pining eyes instead of large red wings?

Chapter 1:  Yosuzume: The Takami Thief

Tucked away in the ceiling raft, keys clacked as Tomie’s nailed fingers formatted a 3D map of the building. A few floating eyeballs twisted and rotated like targeting orbs, watching for security as a few others zoomed down hallways.

“Almost done?” A low voice spoke over her earpiece.

“Mhm.” Tomie responded with a hushed moan.

The free eyeballs made their way back to her, floating back around her body. She closed the lid of the laptop, securing the 3D model of the building, as well as the target location. She slipped her way over the berm to find her husband, Takami Kanaye, waiting on the cement ledge.

“Took you long enough.” He grumbled, red feathered forearms puffing in from the breeze of the high tower. The 2AM city lights illuminated his hardened expression.

Tomie stared at him with dull eyes and spoke quietly, “...here’s the map.”

He snatched the laptop from her hand and opened the model. The detailed map gave them an advantage over the security measures of the building. Cameras and laser traps were labeled as well as the shortest distance to the target. Of course, the timing of patrols and a simulated dot to show their routes.

Kanaye smirked and ran his fingers through her plush hair. He gripped a fistful of her hair and dragged her limp head in circles, “that’s my downy girl. This pay out is going to be fucking huge. You've earned your share, Tomie.”

Tomie took his loving aggression as she always did. Something about the way he grabbed her, the way he praised the use of her quirk, the security he provided with money and a place, the way he took care of everything for her, she got off on it despite his abuse.

He released his grip with a small shove, pushing her head away from him, “Let’s rest up and get to work tonight.”

--

The Takami’s were suited in their stealth gear, fitted in matte black long sleeved shirts and blak cargo pants. Kanaye packed a duffle bag with tools, a case of wireless earpieces, and the computerized map. Tomie followed closely behind him, using her eyeballs to scan the area for security.

Kanaye leapt off the rooftop onto the next building, using his hardened feathers to stabilize himself on the structure. He reached his hand out for Tomie, who leapt off the ledge, and reached for his palm. He hoisted his wife up aggressively, tossing her over the edge onto the rooftop.

He climbed his way up and tossed the black canvas bag in front of her, “get set up.”

Tomie unzipped the bag gingerly, “not going to help?”

“No, I’m about to finish the job. Set me up and pull your weight, yeah?” He huffed before mumbling under his breath, “... worthless bitch. ”

Tomie flinched with a bout of anxiety at the comment, as she unpacked some technical instruments, the computer with the 3D model, a hand held small suction, and an amber marble with a red feather in the center of a black cat-eye.

She cleaned the concave piece with an alcohol wipe and lazily handed it to Kanaye. He stuffed the laser into a cylindrical pouch on his belt and scratched the marble from the ground. He rolled it between his fingers before chuckling and placing it into his breast pocket.

Tomie opened the computer and placed an earpiece around the cartilage of her ear. She handed Kanaye a matching piece and played some testing beeps.

“I don’t hear anything, Tomie. Don’t tell me you fucked up and broke the comms.” He gritted, grabbing the collar of her shirt, “I swear to the Gods, cunt , if you-...”

He was interrupted by Tomie handing him another earpiece. He shoved her forward by her collar and huffed. After he placed the tech in his ear, she played the testing audio again. He looked down at her disgusted and humphed while taking a few steps to the edge of the building.

“If this is an easy job, you’ll get a good fucking for all your hard work. If not…” He smirked over his shoulder, “...you’ll get a good beating. But you’d like that, right? You fuck up missions on purpose so I beat you? Like the whore you are.”

Tomie didn’t answer, she stared at Kanaye blankly until he turned to her. His chest puffed out and he furrowed his eyebrows, “not going to answer me? Then maybe I should beat you first.”

He took two large strides toward her before she spoke coldly, “I would like to be rewarded for an easy job.”

He stopped in his tracks and stood straight, “Good.” Kanaye closed the distance with soft steps and knelt to Tomie on the ground, “I hate punishing you, it hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“I know, everything you do is what’s best for me... For my health, my safety, and my security.” She mumbled as he planted a peck onto her forehead.

“That’s right, my downy little girl.” He gripped the back of her neck tightly between the pads of his fingers, “Don’t forget who you owe your body to.”

There was a long pause before Kanaye brought his hand across Tomie’s cheek in a small, yet forceful, slap. “Give me your eyes, bitch. We’re late.”

Tomie glazed over, floating a set of three eyes to follow Kanaye as he began his descent into the building through a vent. Tomie curled up, folding her legs, and resting the laptop in her lap. She watched as a dot moved slowly on the 3D model, showing where Kanaye is located.

A bout of static filled Tomie’s ear, “alright, GPS. Where to?”

Tomie fed him directions to the jewelry gallery. Kenaye paused, “where are the traps?”

Tomie took a moment, “pressure sensor rimming the case, take the glass with you. The floor has a rotating electric tripwire. Wait for my signal, I’m going to scout it to check the timing.”

“Quickly, Tomie.” He huffed in frustration.

Tomie’s eyeball glided across the open space, close to the ceiling until she spotted the green ray rotating slowly across the floor.

“From its current position, you’ll have….93 seconds.” She stated.

“That’s enough time.” Kanaye dropped from the vent with a thud of his heavy boots.

He ran his fingers through his greasy hair and hardened a crimson feather, plucking it from his forearm. He scraped the feather over the glass in a circular motion to score and pulled the suction from his pouch. He placed the piece of rubber over the glass and ran his sharpened feather another pass over the score. Kanaye applied a little pressure and the glass easily released itself.

Kanaye smirked and slid the glass off the suction, placing it in his pocket. He eyed the gold pocket watch in the blistering white case. The Breguet Antique Number 2667 glistened its $4.5 million watch face on the rotating pillow as he reached into the case and gingerly pulled the it from the pedestal.

“20 seconds, Kanaye.” Tomie’s static voice spoke in his ear.

“Package secure, Tomie. You fucking earned it tonight.” He mumbled placing the watch in a small velvet bag and into the crossbody satchel. He pulled the marble calling card from his breast pocket and placed it in the viewing case.

He jumped back up into the vent and was directed back to the rooftop where Tomie was waiting. The two packed their gear and made their way back to the hotel. But not without warranting some aggressively lewd statements from Kanaye.

Kanaye escorted Tomie into their modest hideaway and he dropped the satchel and tech bag on the table. He grabbed Tomie’s arm firmly, not allowing her to get too far and yanked her into him.

He squeezed her rear, taking her small cheek into the palm of his hand. He dug his nails through the thick fabric, while squeezing the back of her neck with his other hand. Almost unwelcomed, he shoved his tongue down her throat until he laid a resounding smack on her ass and she opened her mouth for him to ravage.

Tomie blanked, her body defaulted and allowed Kanaye to do as he wanted. He stumbled them to the bed, in a series of sloppy backsteps. Kanaye shoved her onto the stiff sheets and flipped her, forcing her hips up.

He tugged at her pants, pulling them over her small and bony structure. After he could see her skin, he pulled his half-erection from his pants and found a home for another slap on her bare body.

“It’s only good when you moan, bitch.” He tugged himself twice before slipping his head in raw and dry.

The thing is, it did feel good, only after a while. Tomie’s forced and faked whimpers turned into deep moans to accommodate his aggression and girth. She loved how he felt inside, but only after proper attention to her sex, which she never received.

Within minutes, he was quickening the pace and pulled her hair, bringing her neck into his palm. He got off on her gasping, the way her throat contracted in his hand as he applied more pressure.

He brought her close to hear her cries until he finished himself with a final pump inside her.

Uncaring he dumped her body, letting it hit the slightly wrinkled sheets as he undressed to shower.

--

Tomie gently tapped the traditional shoji door with a gold plaque etched Tokoyami , “sumimasen…Fumiko-San?”

A short and slender woman with a raven shaped face slid the shoji open and ushered her inside, “hello Tomie-San! Looking for another job? Is Kanaye-San with you because Tsukiya is at the meetup apartment.”

“I actually came to talk with you. Kanaye is out of town with another gang.” Tomie squeezed the hem of her cardigan.

“Of course, you’re a long time friend! Let me get some tea and we can catch up!” Fumiko disappeared into the kitchen to collect a Tokoyami custom tetsubin (cast-iron kettle), a large vase of water, tea leaves in a porcelain dish and two tea cups.

Fumiko brought the kit to the irori (sunken hearth) where Tomie sat. She filled the kettle with it’s first round of water, bringing it to a slow boil. The women sat in silence for a while, absorbing the company.

Fumiko’s porcelain skin peeked from her sleeves, her raven face analyzed Tomie’s body. She took account of the bruises that were barely hidden on her forearm.

“How have you been Tomie?” Fumiko asked, replacing the boiling water with fresh water and tea leaves. She placed the kettle back over the flame to officially prepare the tea.

“Fine. Lots of jobs, thanks to the Shadow Mafia.” Tomie smiled.

“Tsukiya does all the work finding the connections for you and Kanaye. You are the greatest thieves in the underworld. To be frank, you’re a hot commodity by some of the big names across Japan…” Fumiko paused, to flip the cups over, “...and with this new deal, maybe worldwide.”

Tomie chuckled, “it’s an honor to work with you. Do you really think we could get international contract?”

Fumiko scrunched her nose in disbelief, “oh absolutely! How could you not? You’re clean on jobs, efficient, and The Takami Thief is murmured as a thing to be feared. You and Kanaye will have so many jobs to choose from. Dealer’s choice!”

Tomie paused, taking in her compliments. She gripped her cardigan that lay over her thighs, “I don’t know how well that will work…” She leaned onto her knees.

Fumiko pulled the boiling tea from the flame and poured it into the cups. She gently handed one to Tomie and pointed to her bruised arm, “are you planning to leave?”

There was a dense bout of silence before Fumiko continued, “are you planning on getting out of your marriage, Tsukiya can help. We can have our prediction team, Dark Shadow, watch over you. Neither of us like that Kanaye beats yo-...”

“I’m pregnant.” Tomie muttered in a dry and cold tone.

Chapter 2 available August 20th

[lucidpantone]

Visitations Preview Finale pt. 1

This finale chapter is getting so long so as a gift I thought I give you guys the first 5k. 

Disclaimer: Same rules apply.

Italics is the past. If not, it's August 15th.

His atop a precipice.

A vantage point where all things come into view.

Where the decision to plunge himself into the abyss invites him in like a gaping wound but he chooses the latter a dance around the hardwood.

A dance.

Is that all it is?

Love and life a mere tango between two forms battling for governance; for the lead. The notion of control dangling in the air like some token of chance, a lucky charm, a rabbit’s foot. He’s frozen. Paused. In mid-air transition.

A live wire at a stop light waiting for the green. A brethren of the craniate in the peril of deoxygenation, mere seconds away from contorting his skeletal structure into hyperextensions.

He inhales.

Shoulder and neck slanted on an incline. He pushes towards gravity and lets the slab of maple [swish] the surface. The wheels of his board drawing everlasting as he brushes figure eights. The male body truncating in the air like an oversized bolt drilling down a sealed vault. His thoughts [swirling] through him like a polar jet stream. Icy and ferocious. Early day discussions on fast forward and repeat.

“I need my meds recalibrated doc” Sander mumbles out.

“Hmmmm” The doc sounds apprehensive.

“It looks like you have had a recalibration every year for the past 3 years.” The doc thumbs through Sander’s medical chart.

“Are you sure this isn’t a symptom of all the stress you’ve been under? The grand opening tonight? The financial pressures?”

“NO!….I mean yes, but no, I’ve been edgier than usual but that's not why” Sander states adamantly.

“Plus, I'm having trouble sleeping.” Sander tacks that one for good measure knowing if anything they will re-up his sleeping aids.

They weren’t all lies he thought to himself as he swung like a pendulum from side to side on the crown jewel. Loud cheers and celebratory adorations coming from the gallery space; breaking him out of his reflections. He can’t avoid the crowd much longer. The party is in full swing and he needs to go make the rounds. Poetic discussions about his vision await him; descriptions about the counter duality of dark and light, functional or utilitarian, for profit versus non profit but he wasn’t in the mood. He was proud of himself, he knew that much and though he relished in his attendees jovial shoulder taps and glass raises it all felt empty. His exterior soaked up in white lies when questioned about the space's interior. His slapstick smile perfected to compliment his  pheasant plumage as he peacocked around the room; hosting duties increasingly onerous as the guest list questioned him about the young hot shot architect that he had collabed with to create such an impressive view.

“Can we meet him?” They’ll ask, but they won't be able to.

He bailed, or so that’s what he texted Sander that morning. His usual slew of excuses that he hid behind as to why he couldn’t make it back to Antwerp. Back to Sander. Same reasons as to why he’d always be the first to drop off on a conference call between him, Sander and the contractors. Why he’d walk the space with everyone but his counterpart. Purposefully avoiding displays of patronage or binary settings on life’s stage. An agenda via obstruction; creating an alternative universe in which the skater boy and his artist were destined to miss each other every time.

As Sander continued to surf the half pipe the laws of thermodynamics began to dilute his intentions. Velocity and gravity leaving him as the wheels underneath screeched to a halt cutting off the tracings of eternity he had swiveled onto the plywood.

It was time for the dog and pony show.

Time to hot trot around man made obstacles displaying prowess in form. Sander kicked up his board and walked off the ramp’s flat and jumped down onto the cement floor. Leaving the amber coated world that housed a statuesque half pipe in the backdrop with the autograph R+S marred onto its body when he heard the [click] of a lock. He’s body instinctively flinched as the knob to the door twisted open and the sounds from the other world serenaded their shangri-la.

Sander took a step back as a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness of the tattoo shop’s working space. Hues of black splaying across the cement finish. Sander’s eyesight travelled from the floor to the figure holding onto the door and gave a mocked laugh in disbelief.

Robbe took another step forward, let go of the door, and let it slam shut. Instantly killing off the volume from the outside. Entering the space where the other half of a war torn love story survived.

The story of a pair of star crossed lovers enveloped in a love quagmire.

-

Robbe cranked the lever.

The car door flew open.

“Careful there. If you don’t treat it well you’re going to break it” Luc teased out to Robbe.

Robbe pushed himself off Luc’s ride, his body seesawing between two worlds when he stepped out onto the pavement.

The night was inviting. The spirits of the dead were amongst the living. Or so, that's how the legend goes..

Of course Sander would choose ole hallows eve to host his Grand Opening. It was fitting for him. A night wrapped up in the witching hour. Where the spirits of the past are able to walk side by side amongst those prepared to sin. Unknown entities, ghouls and those who feed off the darkness of others dancing around the room whispering bad intentions into well intentioned beings.

This night was a trap but neither of them knew it yet.

“Can you hold this?” Robbe asked Luc as he handed him two black frames wrapped up carefully with black tissue paper to protect the glass from any scratches. He took a moment to fix his black shirt and ruffled out his black mid length pea coat and then took back the frames off Luc’s hands.

Robbe noticed Luc’s slight displeasure at his primping and quickly readjusted the frames underneath his right arm and went to grab Luc’s hand with his left.

“Hey don’t get in your head. Ten minutes and we are in and out and then we can go to dinner with my mother. I know it's weird but Jann is a client who owns a ton of other businesses and it’d be stupid of me to mess up future possibilities. This is strictly business nothing else.”

“Promise?” Luc questioned.

Robbe narrowed his brow and tilted his head to one side in an inquisitive manner.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Luc tipped his head downwards and plastered on a fake smile in agreement. Luc squeezed his lover’s hand and they walked towards the shop's facade as the Halloween vibes speed skated around them and the veil between two worlds began to thin.

“ROBBEEEE!!!!!” Jann screams out amongst the crowd.

“You came” Robbe gives Jann a little wave as he walks over to Robbe clearly a little intoxicated enjoying the celebrations. Jann was the majority investor in Sander’s tattoo shop and someone he and Sander had known for years. Jann was practically a giant. He towered over the crowd at 6’5ft (195cm). He claimed his height was a genetic trait of being born in Eindhoven. He was in his mid fifties but you would never be able to tell. He was covered in full sleeve tattoos and wore his black t-shirt and leather pant uniform everyday since the first day Robbe met him on his 18th birthday.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It was such a pleasure working with you.” Robbe schmoozed him.

“Jann this is my boyfriend Luc. Luc this is Jann he is the investor in this project and the poor soul who trusted me not to mess it all up” Jann roared out a half drunken laugh and gave Robbe a slightly to forceful pat on the back.

Jann leaned into Robbe’s neck which caused Luc to raise a brow and began whispering secrets at a low volume.

“We got approved” Jann confirmed. Robbe looked up at him and pointed his index finger downward towards the white floor of the gallery space. Jann shook his head in confirmation and continued to add on.

“And the community park license so we can teach lessons out back in the skate park” Robbe’s face lit up like a light bulb. He never thought the crazy plan he concocted months ago would actually work. His idea to try to register the gallery and public park as charity spaces actually came through and most importantly saved Jann a ton of money meaning he wouldn’t try to refurbish them into business spaces anytime soon.

Robbe scanned his white surroundings in attempts to find a mop of lunar hair sticking out but nothing in sight.

Jann noticed Robbe scanning the room so he pointed him towards the back.

Robbe excused himself for a moment and as he walked towards the back of the tattoo shop Jann yelled out.

“Robbe don’t forget about our appointment to cover up that shoulder tattoo. It's on the house.”

Robbe didn’t even acknowledge Jann as he transitioned from the white gallery space to the tattoo shops black working space. His all black outfit practically blended him into the wall paint. He got to the back door and twisted the handle. It was locked.

He twisted the bolt and heard it click.

As he pushed his body into the third space the amber earth tones consumed him and as serendipity should have it Sander was waiting for him.

Robbe took one more step forward and let the back door slam shut. It felt like all of sudden him and Sander were stuck in zero gravity.

In some type of suction vacuum where oxygen was limited.

“Hi” Robbe tried to cheerfully break the ice but that was short lived.

“What are you doing here? I thought you bailed?” Sander’s tone was loaded with so much poison that it stung Robbe.

“Well I changed my mind. I thought it’d be nice to finally see the finished product. You know since Jann, you and I have spent so many months working on it.”

Robbe was nervous. He kept fiddling with the frames. It felt like Sander’s gaze was dismantling him.

“It looks great by the way. The contractors did a great job. I mean it looked great when I walked the space last month with them but it's really impressive now that it's all done.”

“You were totally right about keeping the layout white, black and into earth tones. Oh and I brought you a gift.”

Robbe tired to hand Sander the frames but Sander made a hands all full gesture as he held up his Element skateboard. Sander walked over to a table that looked like it had been set up for drinks placement and slid his board underneath it.

“Just put the frames on top. I’ll grab them later.” Sander directed Robbe.

“I didn’t know you still had the old Element I brought you.” Robbe stated.

“Old habits die hard.” Sander threw back at him.

Robbe just shook his head up and down in agreement.

Robbe looked out towards the ramp and just took it all in for a moment.

“Remember when we went to go get this thing from that crazy guy in Ghent…..” and before Robbe could even finish the story Sander cut him off.

“I thought you were here for business? Or are you ready to go down memory lane now?” Sander’s tone made it very clear that he wasn’t in the mood for Robbe’s fake banter.

Robbe turned his body to look directly at Sander. It always took both of them aback how each other's gaze always felt like they were baring their souls to one another.

Robbe and Sander could find so much tranquility in one another and yet so much turbulence at the same time.

Robbe finally broke the silence.

“I should have told you about my boyfriend”

Sander’s eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip. Robbe recognized this gesture; Sander was pissed.

“So, why didn’t you?” Sander shot back.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you cared. You never called me after the last time I saw you.”

Sander enunciated the next part.

“I DIDN’T CALL YOU?”

He then repeated himself again.

“I DIDN’T CALL YOU?”

“I am sorry that I’ve been busy trying to make one of the most important business deals of my life happen and didn’t have the time to fucking wait on you hand and foot.”

Sander ran his hands over his face to calm his temper. His cup runneth over with emotion.

“If you weren’t so damn selfish you would have realized I am stressed out of my damn mind. I literally have no money because I sunk it all into the shop and that I could easily lose everything if things don’t go well but of course you wouldn’t get that since you’ve never made those types of sacrifices for anything in your life.”

Robbe was really biting his tongue. He knew Sander was just stressed out and venting at him but Sander knew very well that Robbe had made those types of sacrifices time and time again for him above anyone/anything else.

“I think I should go” Robbe stated.

“I think you should go too. We should try to keep this little arrangement copacetic.”

Robbe turned his body to head for the door when Sander just couldn’t leave it alone.

“You were never one to stay anyways”

Robbe turned back to look at him knowing very well that Sander was harping on their esoteric love sonnet.

“I always knew you didn’t really have any fight in you” Sander was just slicing knife wounds in Robbe now and they both knew it.

“You know why I didn’t call…..”

Robbe looked straight at Sander. His beautiful brown eyes pleading with him to stop. Sander was starting to drag their love into purgatory but his impulsive need to punish Robbe apexed and Sander ran the spite laced knife right through Robbe’s heart.

“You were right. There is no us.”

He was reveling in the pain.

“There hasn’t been for a long time….and there’ll never be again.”

Sander drew out the knife from Robbe’s heart.

His hands coated in disgrace allowing his love to bleed out right in front of him.

It surprised Sander when he saw Robbe’s eyes darken and glaze over. It scared him. He got the reaction he wanted but seeing it materialize in front of him instantly made him want to take Robbe in his arms and tell him that he didn’t mean it but before he could even react Robbe ran out the door. Practically running over Jann in the process.

“Where is Robbe going?” Jann questioned.

“I told him it would probably be better if he left. He’s just so selfish”, Sander answered back.

“What?” Jann looked genuinely astonished.

“Jann stay out of it. It's none of your business.” Sander forgot who he was talking to.

“Look, I’ve known you two since you were a pair of teenagers getting sappy tattoos for one another so whatever it is, fix it, but more importantly this is my shop. So everything that concerns it is my business. Do you understand that? ”

Jann rarely took on the authoritarian stance he was exuding now. So Sander knew he meant it.

“I understand”

“Good because tomorrow I am calling Robbe and offering him the Brussels project for next year and if you happen to not fuck up before then I may get you in on it too”

Sander gave Jann a head tip in understanding.

Jann heads for the door to leave Sander to stew when he decides to teach him a lesson.

“Oh and next time, why don’t you check the books before calling someone selfish. That selfish kid ran around for months trying to get the right paperwork so we could get on the right registry to save thousands in taxes and his boss called me today letting me know he forfeited his personal architect fee. Something about he had a prior agreement with you that he wanted to honor.”

Point taken.

Sander practically felt like Jann had slugged him in the face. He quickly exited the amber coated world and ran past the black and into the white gallery space. Sander could hear he’s friends calling out his name and people tugging at him to get his attention but he just wanted to catch up with  Robbe before he left.

He finally made it outside but the street was empty, dead, comatose.

“Fuck” Sander yelled out in frustration.

“You just missed him” Sander turned around to find the voice speaking to him.

A brown-eyed beauty stood in front of him. You’d swear she could be a doppelganger for a young Zendaya.

She walked towards Sander.

“Good looking guy with great hair in all black right?”

“Yea” Sander confirmed.

“Yea he jumped in a taxi with some tall guy about 2 minutes before you ran out.”

“Thanks”

“No problem…. You look like you need a drink”

“I do, are you buying?” Sander flirted back lightly.

“Well if you mean am I inviting you to the free bar then yes am buying”

Sander threw the pretty girl a smile.

“Sander, by the way” he held his hand out to her.

“Genade” she slipped her hand into his.

“Come on let's go get you that drink” Genade joked out as she dragged Sander back into his own shindig.

-

White walls.

Bareless ceilings.

Sleep, it was simply a stranger to him. He grabbed his phone and checked the screen. Nothing. No calls, no text, he’d even take a voicemail cussing him out at this point but nothing made him feel more like a piece of shit then seeing the blue light of the witching hour (3am) looking back at him. He rested the phone on his chest and Sander could swear in that moment the weight of the world was on top of him.

He turned his cheek to the other side of the bed to check if Genade was fast asleep. She was, Sander wasn’t sure how this night had unraveled so suddenly and how he found himself in bed with such a beautiful creature and yet still left so unsatisfied. He slid out of bed carefully and managed to somehow find his boxers in the dark of the night.

He twisted the door knob to his bedroom open as carefully as possible not to wake her. Once he heard the click of the lock as he closed it shut his entire body relaxed. He walked into his kitchen to get a glass of water and as he walked passed his kitchen table the black frames caught his attention. They just sat there waiting to be opened.

Sander had been so wrapped up in his own unconscious revenge that he had missed Robbe’s white flag of surrender. He picked up the first black frame and began to tear at the tissue. It was Robbe’s first initial blueprint of the tattoo shop which included the skate park. Sander could still recall how excited and nervous he was to pitch the added addition but that he was adamant that it would compliment the whole vision of the space while additionally giving young kids a place of refuge. He even whipped up one of his guilt trips when he asked Sander why he didn't think it was important to provide a place where young boys like them could find one another.

Sander gulped down the memory.

He put the frame down and picked up the second frame. He tore off the paper and when he saw it looking back at him he literally felt the spit laced knife dig into his chest. He practically stopped breathing for a moment. He pulled off the white post-it off the frame that read We made it happen in Robbe’s hand writing and behind it encased in time was the white napkin that Sander had used to map out his dream tattoo shop all those years ago sitting across the booth from Robbe. In that moment Sander felt like he hit rock bottom and he didn’t care that it was 3 a.m. or that what he was about to do was far from appropriate because all he could think of is that he needed to hear Robbe’s voice. Luckily he had brought his phone with him from the bedroom; call it instinct or intuition but something made him take it with him. He texted Robbe immediately.

Are you awake? - Sander

Sander was sure Robbe wouldn’t text back after all the horrible things he had said to him just hours earlier but something deep inside him told him not all hope was lost and before he started to whirlpool into panic his phone vibrated.

Yes - Robbe

Can I call you? Please… - Sander

Two minutes went by..

K - Robbe

Sander never thought the ring of a phone could make him feel so nauseous but he felt like his heart was in his stomach when he heard Robbe’s voice on the other end. It was practically a whisper…

“Hey”

“Am a fucking asshole. All the shit I said to you tonight, I didn’t mean it. I mean I did but am frustrated. I never thought this is how we would end up. I just don’t understand why you didn’t talk to me about your boyfriend after everything…… I don’t know I just thought……. We had agreed…..”

Sander could hear Robbe sigh out on the other end of the line.

“I just want you to be happy, baby. I don’t care if it's with me or not….”

Robbe didn’t react to Sander’s statement so he continued.

“I opened up your frame. I can’t believe you kept that dirty old napkin for the last 5 years.”

“6 years” Robbe corrected him.

“Yeah…. 6 years.” Sander forced out a sweet toned chuckle.

The line went quiet for a moment.

“You still there?” Sander asked.

“Yea”

“Thank you for registering the space. Thank you for figuring out the tax credit thing. Jann won’t shut up about how I introduced him to the best architect he has ever worked with. Thank you for…..”

Sander started to get choked up, so he composed himself before he continued.

“Thank you for chipping in. You didn’t owe me that”

“I did actually. I promised you I’d find a way, remember?” Robbe questioned.

Sander just ran the palm of his hand on his forehead and through his hair recalling the promise Robbe made to him so long ago. 

“And you always keep your promises” Sander tacked on.

“Always” Robbe confirmed.

“Can I ask for one last one?”

“Sander….” Robbe sounded slightly dejected.

“Whatever happens..I love you. That’s all that matters. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Okay?”

“Sand--”

“Please” Sander pleaded.

“Promise” Robbe agreed not knowing then that to fulfill this promise he would need to forsake another.  

The silence crept back in. Sander knowing the call was nearing its end. So he said his final words.

“I am so happy that I found you. That we got the time we got together and that we are one of the few people in the world that can actually say they found their soulmate.”

5 seconds of silence filled up the call.

“I love you baby. I always will. Am so sorry I hurt you tonight.” Sander added on.

“I….. I….” Robbe false started but he was so close to getting off the blocks in that moment and running towards the finish line but he faltered.

Then doubt took a hold of him.

“I have go now” Robbe stated, and before Sander could even respond he hung up the phone.

Once Sander heard the dial tone go dead he walked over to his couch and plopped down. He grabbed his sketch pad off the coffee table and began to draw the design that would go above his heart.

Robbe just looked down at his finger laying over the end call button and stood there in silence.

He wasn’t sure what he had just done but it all happened so fast.

His body and mind had completely shut down hearing Sander say those words to him. He stood there in his living room in between two minds. A big part of him wanted nothing but to call Sander back and tell him how much he loved him too. Another part of him was so angry that they were in this position. Robbe had done everything he could in his life to protect them from the world but he never planned that the thing that would ultimately tear them apart would be each other. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat down on his couch. He leaned forward slightly and rested his elbows on the top of his thighs. His thoughts made him anxious. Made him press his palms together and scratch his nails on the surface of his left hand.

Robbe took a big inhale and as he exhaled out all his doubts got caught up in his throat and he began to cough up sobs. Hot tears began to stream out of him and like the collapse of a dam the water pressure broke the walls of his interior. He crumbled. He just fell on his side and curled up like a young child. He buried his cries on the couch pillow and cried himself to sleep and in this moment of his despair Robbe felt Bowie come over and lie down next to him.

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

There’s a void at the heart of the universe.

A place where space and time collide. Where the boundary lines of the event horizon can be found. Where a choice lies to leave the remnants of the mother, or to enter the ergosphere; the grey place where time ceases to exist and everlasting is a perpetual promise.

Man has sensed the presence of the black mass for quite some time but only until recently did we find ourselves asking: if no light can emanate from within then should we defy the gods? and cross into a plane that could potentially spaghettify the human body: two faces, four arms and four legs pulled into threaded form. A fruitless purgatory? or maybe, all together something else, an unknown, an entry door to another universe.  

The lovers essence is mirrored here; splashed across the buildings exterior as they stumbled out of their metallic cocoon placed into park. They dance atop the asphalt in embrace; need, and desire. A rendezvous of their lips tangled up in an act of amnesty. The automatic lightening levers flicker into automation. The sulfur vapor caresses their skin as they stand outside the apartment entry door. Robbe fumbles through a set of nickel, copper and brass finally identifying his right to pass. His hands are shaking suddenly, his body aware of his nervous system, reacting to what’s sure to come, their unspoken contract. Sander notices the delay and comes up behind him. He places his palm on top of Robbe’s hand and begins to guide it towards the keyhole. Robbe takes note of the fact that his Casio watch is looking right back at him. The dials in full functional spin.

Robbe unknowingly holds his breath as Sander assists him in unlocking the entry door. The [click] of the lock makes Robbe flinch. He isn’t sure why but suddenly he feels the axis shift. Robbe has no time to wallow in his concerns as he and Sander stumble into the lobby’s backdrop. The vapor wash has vanished and they find themselves amongst the whitest of all fluorescent lighting. It gives off a celestial feeling. The change of ambiance is almost cleansing. Sander focuses his attention on a chunk of real estate on the lobby floor it once served as temporary housing on the night Robbe jumped in between worlds. He smiles at the thought that he sat there that night, pen to paper calling on the properties of general relativity. Yearning for a distortion in time, a tear, an entryway. He disregards that flashback quickly as he senses Robbe’s shadow dance on screen. He grabs Robbe’s hand without much thought and the duo rush into the steel vault like a pair of runway bandits. The interior of their metal forge covered in a reflective surface. Sander navigates the route and makes his floor selection. As they travel from south to north they inch closer to their glass ceiling they run through their usual rolodex of the familiar. Violent pants interrupted by wet kisses, eager petting complimented by hair pulling, a bareless ceiling being balayage(d) by photo negatives that echo past dealings but the denominator of time begins to unravel and they are interrupted. The vault doors swing open.

Times up now.

They’ve arrived.