#buy hi vis rain jackets

[fastclothing]

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[kiwanopie]

Biggest Fan

boyfriend!kiyoomi part VI! one (1) instance of suggestion tooth rotting fluff. 1.3k

Belatedly, he realizes his request to have you move in with him may have been a little redundant.

You two traded keys within the twelve month mark in your relationship, by a year and a half were you coming back from your respective jobs to find the other somewhere cozied up in your respective flats. Fights didn’t really change much to the routine. Maybe a passive aggressive comment to clean your kitchen when he was too miffed at you to do it himself, a high protein lunch “Not!! made with love >:(!” But nothing could ever come between him and having his arms wrapped around you by nightfall. By year two, you were giving your clients the number to the fax at his place. Since ‘Why buy a new one when I’ve got a perfectly good one (that I just bought) at my apartment?”

Now, at year three - Full home office set up in his quaint little penthouse apartment, tenant parking spot, and a front office that signs his alerts with “To the recipients of…” He can’t really wrap his head around why you’re still paying rent at your old apartment? He knows you visit sometimes but hardly enough to keep paying for it. And even as he pads his socked feet around your modest living room, he finds it mostly bare save for a thrifted coffee table and a suede couch he’s fucked you on way too many times to count.

You push another box to him from the threshold of the hallway, another one that sounds a little glassy when he picks it up. “Seriously, what's in these?”

“Just two more of those, baby.” He hears you wheeze. “Then we’ll drop the keys off at the front desk.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Nu-uh.” You punctuate with a grunt.

Kiyoomi knits his brows at the box but turns his heel for the balcony anyway.

Although, maybe the decision to have you move in just yet was a little asinine. He’s been thinking of buying a house. One with a nice view of the stars and the city lights - right on the cusp of the rural area but not a full on road trip to the city; with a big lawn and grassy hedges, white picket fence, open windows, and a mailbox with your names on it.

Or name.

Kiyoomi almost drops the box when those October winds start to nip through his jacket. The falling sky promises something much colder as he tips his reddened nose to the clouds, and watches as they darken with rumbling rain.

It doesn’t take him but a few long strides to get back to the second level where you are, strenuously pushing the next much bigger box into the living room.

“Do you have a coat? It’s gonna start to rain soon.”

You sigh a little tiredly to yourself. “I’m already pretty heated up from all this moving, a little rain won’t hurt.”

“No, you’ll get sick.” Kiyoomi parries. “I’ll put you in my jacket then. I can just run to the car.”

“Nu-uh. I don’t want you to over exert yourself, Omi. You’ve got a game coming up, remember? If anyone shouldn’t be getting sick it’s you.”

You follow his movements as he bends for one of the boxes, avoiding the second much lighter one as you nudge it in his view. “Besides, I doubt it’ll start raining before we can drive back to Tokyo. Forecast says the storm will just miss us.”

Kiyoomi shorts you a glance that’s mostly concerned with the loaded box in front of him. “I- Angel, I still don’t want you to get sick. I can handle a little overwork. You, I very much doubt.”

“Ok, wow. What’s that supposed to- Oh wait, baby that one’s really heavy-“

He lifts it up like it’s nothing.

“Oh…” You gawp. “Right. Pro-athlete.”

Kiyoomi scoffs in favor of letting your astonished gape boost his ego. Though his eyes do catch on the little sliver of polished oak peeking through the box in his hands.

He tilts his head. “What’s this?”

- You break out in a full sweat.

“Uh- W-Wait, wait, baby don’t-“

He’s already swerving to the side to dodge you. Long muscled limbs suddenly too lithe to catch as he turns his shoulder to duck your attempts to stop him, and missing the way you moue at the realization that Christ, you forgot this guy was still somebody’s little brother.

Which means beside his usual indifferent candor, he evades your efforts to stop him from peaking inside with the kind of goading of someone used to slinking away with something he shouldn’t have. Even as you whine he half taunts at the way you try to get a hold of him. “What? What is-“

Kiyoomi nudges open the seal a little more. “Are these posters?”

“Omi-“

“Are these my posters?”

“Stop-“

“Have you been-“ He almost wants to laugh. You’re jumping. “Have you been collecting my posters? All this time?”

“Can you just-“

“Oh, you framed them too.”

“S-Stop it!”

Kiyoomi actually does laugh this time. Like, he actually laughs. And you know it’s supposed to be mean but it flutters out with such genuine mirth that it gives you butterflies. It makes you feel hot to the apples of your cheeks and punches you in the gut with the kind of love struck ardor that should’ve worn off over three years ago - but hasn’t. ~ He cards his eyes through the box. You watch him. But instead of horror or disgust, or worse the realization that his girlfriend might be a little lamer than he originally thought;

It’s pride. Honest to god delight that raises his lips over his teeth and turns his cheeks a little chubby. Zeal, and glee, and that kind of love struck ardor that should’ve worn off over three years ago -

But hasn’t. “Why have you been hiding these? We could’ve kept these next to all your stuff I keep.”

“All my…?”

“Your diploma, your board certificate, your license,” Kiyoomi absently taps his fingers against the box. Which as he does you all but stiffen at the realization. You figured he encouraged you to make copies because it was safer having a backup, and when you found them framed in his hallway later on you thought nothing of it. I mean, he has a lot of frames in his hallway. Family pictures, the Photo Booth reel from your first date, some miscellaneous pictures of his two siblings,

Your graduation picture, your first anniversary photo, the picture he made you take before your first day as a therapist-

Oh.

Kiyoomi gestures you forward as he starts the motion of walking to his car. “With the way you iced me out before we started dating I was worried you didn’t even like volleyball.”

“Of course I like volleyball?” If the little fan trinkets in the box you’re carrying should mean anything. “I’ve been to like all of your games?”

“Yeah, I know that now,”

He makes the motion of shimming his jacket down his shoulders as he carefully sits the box where the others are, easily lifting the final one out of your grasp as he passes it over; and the way his biceps pop out of his t-shirt makes you shudder when he lifts his arms to close the trunk.

His jacket is warm, it smells just like him. “But you were sure playing coy when we first got together.”

- You, again, break into a sweat.

The way your nose crinkles up in embarrassment is honestly enough to have him suppressing a smirk when he turns to you again. Albeit poorly. Seriously, this guy seems intent on teasing you into the mud today.

“Well!” You stammer. “Because-“

“Well, because!” Kiyoomi kisses you on the forehead as you gasp at the way he openly mocks you. “Shut up. You’re so cute it’s stupid.”

He pinches your cheeks when you rightfully pout at him. “And fix your face. It’ll get stuck like that.”

“When did you become such a bully?!”

“Somewhere between “Can you be my girlfriend?” and “I love you too.””

He titters a little as you grumble your way into the car.

[multifan-giantpanda]

Roof Safety

Commonly some of the work conducted on the roof, regardless of the size, turns out to be of high-risk situation. That said, the roof work proves to be quite risky.

Whenever there is the risk of the worker who is working over the risky surfaces, remember setting the parameter of complying as per the WHS regulation. There may be cases of the element of the demolition that the load-bearing structure of the roof may impact. This is something that can have an impact on structural integrity.

The work surfaces are possibly involved with the disturbance of the asbestos. So it may turn out to be problematic, creating a higher chance of slips and falls. Be careful when the work is carried out near the electrical installation. When the services may be problematic, it's worth considering the safety against the height safety hazards. As an employer, you must seek the elimination of the problems whenever it is needed. This is something that can turn out to be reasonably practical.

Working on the roof may be the cause of the additional hazards due to the nature of the job that is inclusive of the weather conditions. The sloping surface or the fragile roofs features may be problematic. Here are the guidelines that you should always consider. Besides everything else, it is a must to consider wearing the Workwear Melbourne uniform that can keep employees protected at all times.

Materials as the above-mentioned ones can be enough to increase the risk of them falling through the roof compared to the other surfaces. Materials like the above can also go with the control measures for allowing a better working surface and the possible controls. They also come inclusive of the elevated work platforms that can be useful for the removal of the need to stand on the roof itself. Sometimes the walkways or the crawl board come involved with it.

Using the barriers ensures identifying the safe areas that can signpost the dangerous areas for utilising fall test harness system weather conditions. The weather conditions work for the determination of whether you will be able to work on the roof or not. Wearing the Hi vis workwear like the Hi vis vests and Hi vis jackets is a must.

Keeping away the chances of the additional troubles

Sometimes the severe heat, strong winds can be responsible enough for a significant increase in the risk to the safety and well-being of the workers. So, employees find it is always important to go ahead with the consideration of conducting roof work. It can also be enough for keeping away the heat causing elements.

It can also keep away heat-related illness, dehydration as well as Sunburn. In this situation, the heat comes directly from the sun and is responsible for creating the surrounding environment while increasing the temperature. This also comes with UV radiation that can be enough for causing heat burns to the unprotected skin. The minimized effects of the sun are possible by ensuring that the roof work is being done only on mild weather days.

It's worth considering working on the cooler times of the day. Besides, the reduction of the amount of time spent on the roof for the shift is a must to keep away the harshness. You should always be considered in the adequate drinking water and electrolytes that are easily available. Always pay attention to skin getting protected by lightweight clothing as well as sunglasses. Skin that doesn't stay protected must find the cover with the 30 + SPF or the higher sunscreen.

Always make sure of driving the work for the minimised time spent in the sun. Remember that the rain is responsible for making the sloping surface most slippery. It can increase the chances of a slip or fall. So it is recommended to never work on a roof that is slippery or has got collected a lot of water. The wet surface can be enough to cause the fall and trips. You can also choose to buy the safest stuff and Hi vis clothing from the Workwear online store.

Keeping away the windy situations

While you are working on the roof, see that has surface should be fitted in the form of the fragile surface until you are sure that it is deemed for usage by the Competent Person. Remember that no roof should be trusted enough to bear the person's body. Some roofing materials are more likely to be fresh as compared to the others.

So it is always better to consider leaving on the side of the question. Whenever there is a point of confrontation with the roof materials like asbestos, roof sheet, polycarbonate like the skylight system, fibre cement sheet, glass sheets, or added metal sheets of the fasteners, you must pay attention to the safety standards. Even the surfaces like the chief board or rotted wood materials, slippery tiles, and fragile materials can cause issues.  

Even the strong sometimes makes it a lot difficult to work with the balance on the roof surface. Usually, the strong wind is enough for blowing the worker over the edge that can be responsible for causing the heavy injury. Make sure that you are conducting the roof work only on calm days. The surfaces of the steep roofs can be enough to create fatal circumstances.

High slope zones

The roof slope that is around 35 degrees is not appropriate for standing or working on. It is something that can increase the likelihood of the slip. According to the fall prevention control, don't select the guardrail or the caching platform, or usually, that is not the appropriate measure for protecting the workers. In any case, the area is having a slope of 35 degrees; then you can consider taking into consideration the aerial equipment like the cherry picker, scaffolding platform as well as industrial rope access system.

Final words

In case you're facing a problem during the roof working areas, make sure that you have the relief and first aid for giving you the rescue option. In case the worksite is utilising the fall assistant equipment, the worker may not be exposed to suffering from a fall from the suspension. This operating system enables a person suspended in the harsh environment in the upright position is free from facing problematic situations.

There won't be chances of resulting in the blood pooling in the legs. Depending on the susceptibility, sometimes the chances of the falls can be enough for causing unconsciousness, renal failure, or the rare circumstances that bring with it chances of death because of the situation. Always make sure that the falling worker gets rescued without any delay. Besides assisting, always consider the Pre-engineered retrieval Systems in the market. They can serve as a prompt response and is a must when it comes to high-end worker safety.

[raremelanin]

Roof Safety

Commonly some of the work conducted on the roof, regardless of the size, turns out to be of high-risk situation. That said, the roof work proves to be quite risky.

Whenever there is the risk of the worker who is working over the risky surfaces, remember setting the parameter of complying as per the WHS regulation. There may be cases of the element of the demolition that the load-bearing structure of the roof may impact. This is something that can have an impact on structural integrity.

The work surfaces are possibly involved with the disturbance of the asbestos. So it may turn out to be problematic, creating a higher chance of slips and falls. Be careful when the work is carried out near the electrical installation. When the services may be problematic, it's worth considering the safety against the height safety hazards. As an employer, you must seek the elimination of the problems whenever it is needed. This is something that can turn out to be reasonably practical.

Working on the roof may be the cause of the additional hazards due to the nature of the job that is inclusive of the weather conditions. The sloping surface or the fragile roofs features may be problematic. Here are the guidelines that you should always consider. Besides everything else, it is a must to consider wearing the Workwear Melbourne uniform that can keep employees protected at all times.

Materials as the above-mentioned ones can be enough to increase the risk of them falling through the roof compared to the other surfaces. Materials like the above can also go with the control measures for allowing a better working surface and the possible controls. They also come inclusive of the elevated work platforms that can be useful for the removal of the need to stand on the roof itself. Sometimes the walkways or the crawl board come involved with it.

Using the barriers ensures identifying the safe areas that can signpost the dangerous areas for utilising fall test harness system weather conditions. The weather conditions work for the determination of whether you will be able to work on the roof or not. Wearing the Hi vis workwear like the Hi vis vests and Hi vis jackets is a must.

Keeping away the chances of the additional troubles

Sometimes the severe heat, strong winds can be responsible enough for a significant increase in the risk to the safety and well-being of the workers. So, employees find it is always important to go ahead with the consideration of conducting roof work. It can also be enough for keeping away the heat causing elements.

It can also keep away heat-related illness, dehydration as well as Sunburn. In this situation, the heat comes directly from the sun and is responsible for creating the surrounding environment while increasing the temperature. This also comes with UV radiation that can be enough for causing heat burns to the unprotected skin. The minimized effects of the sun are possible by ensuring that the roof work is being done only on mild weather days.

It's worth considering working on the cooler times of the day. Besides, the reduction of the amount of time spent on the roof for the shift is a must to keep away the harshness. You should always be considered in the adequate drinking water and electrolytes that are easily available. Always pay attention to skin getting protected by lightweight clothing as well as sunglasses. Skin that doesn't stay protected must find the cover with the 30 + SPF or the higher sunscreen.

Always make sure of driving the work for the minimised time spent in the sun. Remember that the rain is responsible for making the sloping surface most slippery. It can increase the chances of a slip or fall. So it is recommended to never work on a roof that is slippery or has got collected a lot of water. The wet surface can be enough to cause the fall and trips. You can also choose to buy the safest stuff and Hi vis clothing from the Workwear online store.

Keeping away the windy situations

While you are working on the roof, see that has surface should be fitted in the form of the fragile surface until you are sure that it is deemed for usage by the Competent Person. Remember that no roof should be trusted enough to bear the person's body. Some roofing materials are more likely to be fresh as compared to the others.

So it is always better to consider leaving on the side of the question. Whenever there is a point of confrontation with the roof materials like asbestos, roof sheet, polycarbonate like the skylight system, fibre cement sheet, glass sheets, or added metal sheets of the fasteners, you must pay attention to the safety standards. Even the surfaces like the chief board or rotted wood materials, slippery tiles, and fragile materials can cause issues.  

Even the strong sometimes makes it a lot difficult to work with the balance on the roof surface. Usually, the strong wind is enough for blowing the worker over the edge that can be responsible for causing the heavy injury. Make sure that you are conducting the roof work only on calm days. The surfaces of the steep roofs can be enough to create fatal circumstances.

High slope zones

The roof slope that is around 35 degrees is not appropriate for standing or working on. It is something that can increase the likelihood of the slip. According to the fall prevention control, don't select the guardrail or the caching platform, or usually, that is not the appropriate measure for protecting the workers. In any case, the area is having a slope of 35 degrees; then you can consider taking into consideration the aerial equipment like the cherry picker, scaffolding platform as well as industrial rope access system.

Final words

In case you're facing a problem during the roof working areas, make sure that you have the relief and first aid for giving you the rescue option. In case the worksite is utilising the fall assistant equipment, the worker may not be exposed to suffering from a fall from the suspension. This operating system enables a person suspended in the harsh environment in the upright position is free from facing problematic situations.

There won't be chances of resulting in the blood pooling in the legs. Depending on the susceptibility, sometimes the chances of the falls can be enough for causing unconsciousness, renal failure, or the rare circumstances that bring with it chances of death because of the situation. Always make sure that the falling worker gets rescued without any delay. Besides assisting, always consider the Pre-engineered retrieval Systems in the market. They can serve as a prompt response and is a must when it comes to high-end worker safety.

[slytherinlesbian3]

All of the colors. Knock yourself out

Alright, Anon. I see you. I’ll leave out the ones I’ve already done though <3

red: describe your favorite shirt Blue. Literally just blue. Tight, but not too tight. Makes my biceps and boobs pop so it’s pretty nice.

blue: preferred type of weather? Rain or snow.

purple: a poem you think describes your closest friend Not a poem, but “I’ll be right beside you to the very end.”

turquoise: favorite sea animal? Dolphins.

cyan: are you religious? spiritual? Uh, I believe in more than one god and lean more toward Roman/Norse mythology than religion. I believe in every god, really. But I’m not submitting myself to blind faith for a cult I know nothing about.

violet: are you a part of the lgbt+ community? Lesbian through and through.

aqua: do you thrift? Do I...what? Thrift as in steal or thrift as in buy on sale? Because yes.

black: would you ever try going vegetarian or vegan? No.

coral: an animal you wish hadn't gone extinct Bro...Dodo birds. They were dope.

grey: how many languages do you speak? do you want to learn any more? Technically I only fluently speak English, but when I was younger I only spoke in Italian except to my family sejfnskejnfdjskn. I’m learning Latin right now and I can still speak Italian but not nearly as much. I know bits of French, German, Japanese, and Czech though. Beside Latin, I don’t really wanna learn any others.

maroon: do you care for clothing brands? Adidas and 511. Adidas because I’m a slut for soccer and 511 because their pants are so COMFY BRO. But they’re expensive so I only own a 511 belt </3

rose: favourite scent on a person? Something...floral. Roses or cherry blossom. Coconut is nice too. Vanilla is cliche but you can never go wrong with it.

charcoal: have you ever been camping? No and I do not wish for it ever.

claret: do you play an instrument? do you want to learn to play any? Trumpet and guitar. 6 years, 11 months.

copper: gold or silver jewelry? Neither, but silver probably. Just looks nicer with my skin tone.

cream: any piercings or tattoos? do you want any? None. I don’t even have my ears pierced. However, I do want a snake tattoo on my thigh lmaoo.

salmon: how many pairs of sunglasses do you own? Like 5 but I only wear one because they’re aviators :D

indigo: have you ever lived on a farm? Nope but I have stayed on one for about a month.

lavender: relationship status? Single but I do have a tumblr wife: @maritasdump​

erin: what was/is your best school subject? ENGLISH BECAUSE I CAN WRITE ESSAYS IN LITERALLY 15 MINUTES

fulvous: another name you think would suit you Ew, uh...well, Vi. It’s my nickname since it’s the shortened version of the nickname of my real name, but it fits me better.

coconut: a subject you enjoy learning about Rome and Latin :D

frost: a -core you enjoy A what.

porcelain: an tv show you used to love Powerpuff Girls, Teen Titans (original), eh

fawn: any interesting family stories? Well, one time my brother got a stick stuck in his shin. Kinda funny. Another time my brother broke my leg while on a trampoline Another time my brother almost broke my ankle by daring me to jump off a 20 foot ledge. Another time I made my brother bleed with my nails for taking my skittles. I could go on...it’s just a lot of sibling violence.

gold: do you wear your socks mismatched? I used to but I just wear black socks now. (Except for soccer)

honey: your thoughts on magic- does it exist? Yeah. Just in different forms:)

rust: form of art you enjoy doing? Writing lmao. But I guess just sketching is fun.

mahogany: your sun, moon, and rising signs I have 0 desire to calculate that because I don’t know it off the top of my head but I’m a capricorn and I feel like that’s enough information

blood: twin beds, queen, or king? ...And there was only one bed...

hot pink: did you/do you had/have strong feelings against the color pink? Hot pink is nasty but regular pink is cool asf. My soccer socks for October games are pink and I wear them every practice/game.

plum: a food you've never tried A lot, but I’ve tried a hella ton of European foods. So, uh...I’m not really sure. Something non-American (all Americas), non-EU, and non-Asian, I know that. 

lilac: dogs, cats, or fish? CATS.

amethyst: do you collect anything? Knives.

mulberry: earbuds or headphones? Eh...Depends what I’m doing. Voice chat? Headphones. Music at the bus stop? Earbuds.

azure: jean jackets? My God - on other people? Hot. On me? I’ll stick to leather.

teal: have a job? Not yet.

sapphire: do you think you can sing well? For the most part, yeah. Trying to incorporate my guitar playing with it and it’s going pretty smoothly.

mint: favourite flavour of gum? Juicy Fruit simply because my grandmother got me hooked on it from a really young age. That or plain ol’ wintermint.

pecan: shuffle your playlist, what's the first song that comes up? Follow by Breaking Benjamin

penny: icecream or cake Ew. Sweets are a hit or miss for me, but um? Probably ice cream.

ash: can you do your own makeup? Hell no. I’ve only worn makeup twice and it was applied by someone else.

jade: ever written fanfiction? EKFMNSKENFJKDSN SO MUCH.

grape: how many blogs do you follow? 346!

umber: do you brush your teeth before you eat? No, ew. Why would you do that?

chestnut: type of phone you have iPhone 10 XS. Got it last May...First new phone I’d ever owned. Went from an iPod that could only call, to a phone that could only call, then an iPhone 5 until I was 15. They were all hand-me-downs and I never complained. They worked fine.

prussian blue: what's your first choice at the vending machine Soda, probably. If it’s food, either the chips or the rice krispy <3

aquamarine: beach or pool Pool. I’ve come too close to death at the beach to enjoy it anymore.

brass: least favorite food condiment Mayo/horse radish.

mustard: how much sugar in your tea/coffee? All of it.

silver: ever broken a bone? My entire leg and foot <3

rose quartz: rings or necklaces Necklaces with rings. I’m serious. But if I had to choose, rings. It’s the gay in me.

onyx: do you still play Minecraft? Sometimes?

burgundy: ever ridden a motorcycle? NO BUT I WANT ONE MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THE FRIGGIN UNIVERSE

apricot: opinion on 3 in 1 body wash/hair wash wait those exist? 

platinum: do you follow politics? Dude I didn’t know Trump was president til this year

magnolia: your Instagram handle? ha, nice try, luzer.

Bro I am LATE to somewhere because of this but I enjoyed it. Thanks again, anon! <3

Color Asks (I am closing this shite because I AM TIRED)

[serpienten]

Black Forest (I/VI)

Chapter Title: The Explosion

Pairing: Baker!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Last Chapter:

This Chapter: Your table breaks, someone dies and a stranger makes you see white.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: This is for @chillingbucky and @revengingbarnes‘ fic wars! My partner is @aryastarss for this one. This is definitely not my best work and I was in a bit of a rush, but I promise the next chapter I’ll write is gonna be a lot better xD I hope this is alright, though. For the next chapter, go over to @aryastarss and keep your eyes peeled!

God dammit.

God. freaking. dammit.

Of course, your desk had to break down. Of course, your desk had to break down on a Sunday at three thirty in the damn morning and of course, your apartment was void of anything close to a hammer and nails. It was a miracle that you’d gotten around for so long without tools anyway since you weren’t exactly the most dexterous of people, but the universe couldn’t have picked a worse moment to destroy your favorite place to work at.

You pushed out a sigh as you made your way down the street, clutching your phone and your wallet to your chest. Every time you passed a dark alleyway, you threw a glance over your shoulder and uneasiness lay heavily in your stomach. If it was avoidable, you never wandered around in Brooklyn alone after dark. But alas, you needed to fix your desk and since it was Sunday, the convenience store you were headed to was your last opportunity to fix it quickly. And that store would be closing in less than half an hour.

Walking past another narrow, pitch black alleyway, your steps sped up and you proceeded to walk down the street swiftly. The street lanterns cast an eerie, orange glow over the concrete, still damp from the earlier rain and threw elongated shadows in your path. You tried your hardest not to imagine the shadows being anything but bushes and branches and fire hydrants but you still couldn’t prevent the shiver from running up your spine. You pulled your jacket tighter around your body.

The first thing that came to mind when you arrived at the store was that you would be lucky if they had any sort of tools at all. It looked terrifyingly tiny from the outside. A little flickering neon sign on the door signaled you that you hadn’t arrived too late yet, so you stepped up the two little steps to the door and pushed it open.

Right upon entering, you realized the inside of the store was just like the outside; tiny. There were two small aisles that were just broad enough for one person at a time to walk through, one shelve in the middle and more along the walls, stuffed to the brim with products. Despite the small room, there sure as heck wasn’t a shortage of offers.

You felt a lot better about finding what you needed now then you did before entering.

Aside from yourself, there were three more people in the store. An, by the look of it, eighty-year-old cashier who was leaning against the cash desk and yawning, a younger woman who stood close to the entrance and was apparently deciding on a new lighter and a man who stood with his back turned to you. You gave the cashier a small smile as you walked past him, but he appeared to be too busy trying not to fall asleep to notice it.

When you tried squeezing past the woman, you realized that these aisles truly weren’t made for more than one person. Great to prevent shoplifters from running off, but not the best when you’re trying not to touch a strange woman too unnecessarily. You muttered an apology and she simply shuffled forward awkwardly and kept her gaze on her lighters. Throwing glances from left to right, you searched for the hammer and the nails.

You got closer to the man at the back. You were still focused on looking for the tools, but when he moved and turned to the side a bit, your gaze stayed on him. His chestnut brown, shoulder length hair fell in front of his face like a curtain and concealed his face from your view. A black leather jacket stretched over his broad shoulders and over his muscled arms, and you would’ve found him extremely intimidating if it wasn’t for the mountain of flour bags in his arms. You slightly furrowed your brows as you caught sight of them. Who on earth buys so much flour at almost four in the morning?

You were still walking closer towards him and before you knew it, you stood right in front of him. The man obviously heard you coming closer, but he kept himself occupied with the flour bags, fiddling around with the paper. You halted in front of him, clearing your throat. “I’m sorry, could I maybe...” your voice trailed off and you gestured past the man. As soon as the words had left your mouth, he turned his face towards you. Your breath almost caught in your throat and your eyes widened imperceptibly. You were met with the most astonishing blue eyes, a shade you’d never seen before. A sharp jawline and cheekbones that could cut diamonds, plump rosy lips that slowly pulled into an apologetic smile. “Of course, sorry,” he said, with a voice so incredibly soft that you were convinced if silk had a sound, this would be it. Almost as soon as he’d finished speaking, you longed to hear more.

The man with the silky voice cleared his voice and ripped you out of your thoughts. That’s when you noticed that you’d been staring. How rude. A blush spread over your cheeks and you quickly lowered your gaze. You started walking past the man, but you hadn’t even taken two steps before a loud clanging sound caused you to flinch. Then, a dull thump followed. And after that, someone screamed.

You whirled around to go look for the source of the sound. Instead of finding it, you collided with a wall of muscle and flour bags. The impact causes the man to stumble backward, the bags slipping in his hands. The one on top threatens to fall to the floor and when you see it slipping out of his arms, your eyes widen. Both of you reach for it at the same time, gripping the bag tightly. The relief after catching the bag didn’t last long, though, no, instead of being able to hand it back to the man, the bag explodes in a powdery cloud. In a matter of seconds, you were coated in white.

You blinked at the man dumbly, mouth agape. He looked at you the same, before looking down to the open, now half empty flour bag. “Oh my- I’m so-” he starts. Another scream catches your attention again and you turn away from the man to see the cashier lying on the ground and the woman who’d been at the lighters earlier stood there, a hand clasped over her mouth. You gasped. “We have to call an ambulance.”

Rushing forward towards the cashier, you fumble for your phone, the man hot on your heels.

[foxyotomelady]

Another love, Chapter I (JuminxReader)

Author’s notes:

I was about to take a break, but here I am! I woke up with another idea today and I had to write it. It's super long, lol.

In this AU, everything happened more or less the same as in the game - except that You/MC did not end up with anyone.

As for the Mint Eye case - it was resolved just like in Seven's Secret Ending - that is, if I remember correctly, and again I'm too lazy to check it, lol - Rika is in a mental asylum, Saeran is alive and well, V is dead.

After all these events and all the ruckus with RFA, you came back to your ordinary life, except that of course you are still involved in hosting parties and you are still very much friends with everyone.

Several months have passed since the events of the Mint Eye. During this time, you entered into a relationship with a boy (his name is totally random, from a generator, lol) whom you know from the beginning of your studies (currently you have holidays, before your last year - I do not know how it works in Korea, so I'm sorry if something is illogical.).

Be aware of: strong language, not really nsfw, but there'll be some sexual activities mentioned, angst.

Chapter I (You are here) | Chapter II |  Chapter III |  Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI |  Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X | Chapter XI | Chapter XII |  Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV |

Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

You were just coming back from the ladies' night with Jaehee. You've drank coffee together in a cozy cafe, you listened to her admiring Zen's new performances and complaining about the big amount of work. You reminded her cautiously that Jumin had given her some free time - you did not like it when she judged him too harshly, although you could admit and notice when he was the one who demanded too much from the ever-busy Jaehee.

"Mr. Han gave me some free time just because you said you want to spend some time with me," Jaehee said back then. "I do not know how you do it, but he is extremely nice to you. It doesn't matter though, when I get back to work, it will be the same again as always."

It was true that Jumin was nice to you. When you first met him at the RFA messenger, he seemed inaccessible and cold. However, you quickly changed your opinion about him. After he called you for the first time and explained that he was calling only to hear the voice of the new RFA member... you thought it was actually quite funny. He was actually quite funny.

Every time you laughed at his jokes, the others almost suggested that you should do some medical examination to make sure everything is alright with you. Seven often joked that someone had to break into your brain, and Zen was devastated by the fact that instead of paying attention to his beauty, you are interested in talking to "this jerk." You did not understand their behavior and you did not like it when they insulted Jumin. You considered his love for Elizabeth the 3rd as charming and adorable. Besides, you had the impression that it would be good for the others to test their eyesight - not for you - because they did not see how Jumin cared about RFA. After all this fiasco with Mint Eye, he dealt with most matters. He made sure that Saeran would have good care in the hospital. He made sure that Rika went to the appropriate mental asylum - after she killed his best friend! He did all this, though he did not have to. And no one thanked him for it. What's more, each time the two of you had some more emotional conversation in the chat room - others then laughed at him that such sentimentality did not suit him. You loved all RFA members, they were your friends, but sometimes you wanted to shake them all.

Immersed in these thoughts, you climbed the stairs and headed to the apartment you rented with your boyfriend Yuwoon. Before entering, you folded the umbrella - it was raining outside. In the hall, you noticed an extra pair of women's shoes that certainly did not belong to you. Your heart jumped. However, you washed away suspicious thoughts - maybe someone came to visit, maybe someone from the family - but at such a late time? Then you suddenly remembered that you told Yuwoon that it was possible that you would spend the night at Jaehee’s place.

No, it can not be... You thought, took off your own shoes and silently approached the bedroom. Your stomach twisted itself when you heard noises that suggested only one thing. You just stood there for some time, under the door, frozen.

"Ah! Yuwoon! I'm coming!" You heard a girl's voice and then her blissed moan. You felt that you would vomit soon. You felt that your heart stopped beating. In spite of this, you were suddenly filled with icy rage. You pushed the door and stepped inside. There he was, Yuwoon, your boyfriend, a handsome and tall man on whom you had a crush from the beginning of your studies - pinning some blonde hair girl into your shared bed. It was just when you came indoor that he released himself in her and made a loud groan. Her legs wrapped tightly around his back. You did not say a word, you were still standing still, though in your head your brain was pounding and spinning. Yuwoon turned slowly, and when he saw you, his eyes became wide with fear.

"Oh, shit!" His voice was still hoarse. Hurriedly he left the girl, who moaned again when he came out of her so violently. He got up from the bed and moved towards you.

"Don't you dare come near me!" You screamed icily, not allowing tears to flow on your cheeks.

"Y/N, wait!" It was only when he called you that you realize you were running out of the bedroom and then out of the apartment. You did not take an umbrella with you, you didn't even take your shoes. You ran barefoot down the stairs and fell out of the stairwell into the rain, which was falling even harder now. You did not stop, you ran through dark streets, lit only by lanterns. You wanted to be away from that damn apartment right now, from that bedroom and that bed.

You felt that your phone was vibrating in your pocket - one time after another. You ignored it for a long time until you found yourself in the park, where tired and cold you sat on a bench. Only then you checked the phone. You had 20 missed calls - each from Yuwoon. You also had messages from him.

"Please, answer, I can’t find you."

"It's not what you think, I'll explain everything."

"Please, I am worried about you."

"Get back to our goddamn apartment!"

"I'm sorry... I love you... I want to explain everything…"

You laughed hysterically at the last message. You did not want to have anything to do with him. With trembling hands, you made some quick moves and blocked his number. There was a race of thoughts in your head. What would you do now? You could call your parents... No, you were too embarrassed. You were an adult, you did not want to get them involved in your love stories.

You opened the messenger. Nobody was there. Should you leave a message? You were too embarrassed to admit what happened. But they were your friends, the best you ever had - you convinced yourself. You could count on them, right? With great resistance, you finally decided to write.

You: Hey, can anyone come in here? I need help.

You: Please, somebody read it.

You pressed the phone to your forehead. You wanted to cry - no! You will not cry, not because of the guy who cheated on you! He did not deserve your tears! You were wondering if you could call someone. Maybe to Jaehee - after all you considered the possibility that you would spend the night at her place. 

Then your phone has vibrated again. You looked at the screen with hope.

[Jumin Han has entered the chat room]

Jumin Han: Y/N

Jumin Han: What is happening?

Jumin Han: Are you hurt?

Jumin Han: Has someone hurt you?

You: Yes, someone has hurt me. But not in a physical way.

Jumin Han: How can I help you?

You: I need... I don’t have a place to spend the night.

Jumin Han: What? Where are you now?

You: In the park. It's raining and I'm cold. But I can’t go home.

Jumin Han: Give me the exact location. I will come there for you immediately.

That's what you did. You described where exactly you are. It was hard to write with cold hands. You crouched on the bench, your only protection from the rain was now a tree. You looked at the phone, that's all you could do. You did not want to think - you were afraid that you would see a picture in your head that you wanted to erase from your memory.

[Zen has entered the chat room]

Zen: Y/N! What's happening?

You: I will explain everything to you later, now I do not want to think about it.

Zen: I'm worried...

You: You do not have to. I can handle it.

Zen: You are alone, so late, in the park, it's raining and it's dark! How should I not worry?

[Jumin Han has entered the chat room]

Jumin Han: I will be there soon.

[Jumin Han has left the chat room]

Zen: Good!

Zen: Y/N wait for this jerk there!

Zen: And If anything goes wrong, CALL ME!

You: I'm so stupid, Zen... I'm so fucking stupid...

Zen: What? What are you saying?

Zen: You are not stupid! What's wrong?

Zen: Just hang in there! Jumin will be there any minute!

[Y/N has left the chat room]

In fact, it did not take long before you saw Jumin. As usual, he was wearing his perfect suit. He was accompanied by two bodyguards - one of them was holding an umbrella. You got up from the bench. At the sight of your good friend, you felt your whole body trembling. Jumin saw you, he paused for a moment, surprised, then he quickened his pace.

"Y/N..." In his voice, usually so composed, there was a concern, maybe even panic. You bit the inside of your lower lip. You wanted to cry again. "Give me this umbrella," Jumin said to the bodyguard and took an umbrella from his hand to hold it over you.

You embraced yourself, you were so cold and soaked from head to toe. "I'm sorry, Jumin... I should not bother you."

"What a nonsense, you are my friend." He glanced at you carefully, for a moment only the umbrella disappeared from above your head as Jumin hurriedly removed his elegant jacket and covered your arms with it, "My God, you're barefoot," He noticed after a moment.

"I…"

"Yoon, please take her to the car."

Your head was empty, your throat squeezed tight. Before you could react or protest, you found yourself in the arms of one of the bodyguards. You did not want someone to touch you now, but you did not say a word. You were carried to the limousine quickly and in absolute silence.   

Together with Jumin you sat on the last seat, separated from the driver and bodyguards. It was a really big and luxurious car, you didn't have the opportunity to find yourself in such a car ever before. And now, when you had the opportunity, you were so wet that sitting beneath you was also getting wet. Your bare feet were dirty. Embarrassed, you looked at Jumin, who was staring at you thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry, I'm ruining your car…"

Jumin blinked, clearly taken aback by your words, "Do not worry about something like that," He said in a calm voice and you saw that he hesitantly choose the next words, "Will you tell me what happened?"   

You swallowed hard, the memory of what you saw in the bedroom came back unexpectedly. Tears once again pushed into your eyes. Jumin had to see it, because he said quickly, "You do not have to. Don't force yourself."

"I should... I should tell Zen and the others that I'm safe..." You said, your voice cracking slightly. But when you took the phone in your hand, your fingers began to tremble so that you could not open the chat room. You no longer knew whether it was because of emotions or how you were frozen.

"I'll do it," Jumin offered and grabbed his own phone. You watched in silence as he wrote something on it.

Jumin’s POV

[Jumin Han has entered the chat room]

Zen: Jumin!

Zen: She is with you?

Zen: Is everything okay with her?

Jumin Han: She's with me.

Jumin Han: I do not know what happened.

Jumin Han: But I will take her to my apartment.

Zen: Would it not be better if she spent the night at Jaehee’s?

Zen: You're a man, you know...

Jumin Han: You're ridiculous. It's not important now.

Zen: She may not feel comfortable with it!

Jumin Han: I will do everything to make her feel comfortable.

Zen: What are you talking about? You do not want to take advantage of the situation?!

Jumin Han: What? You're ridiculous again.

[Jumin Han has left the chat room]

He put the phone in his pocket, frowning. Zen's insinuations irritated him. He was not someone who gets angry easily, but he was anxious enough about the Y/N’s situation. He had no idea what was going on, but it was for sure a serious matter. He wanted her to tell him what had happened, but when he saw the tears appear in her eyes, he could not insist. He felt different toward her than toward anybody. He could not be calm as usual, and her suffering made him feel very bad. 

Now he was watching her, wet and dirty and stared blankly at the window, and wanted to do something. Anything to stop her worrying. But what should he do? He did not know how to deal with such situations.

They spent the rest of the way to his house in silence. She looked very tired when they came into his apartment. Still, she leaned over to stroke Elizabeth the 3rd as she rubbed against her legs.

"Hello, Elizabeth, you're as pretty as always" Y/N said in a weak voice.

"You should change your clothes, you'll catch a cold," Jumin ordered, not completely aware of his commanding tone. He felt strange feelings, not for the first time when he talked with her, he forgot about Elizabeth's presence, her meowing ceased to interest him.   

After Y/N became a member of the RFA, he began to notice some changes that disturbed him. He opened before her like before nobody else and he began to realize that Elizabeth was just a cat. He even considered it funny that he didn't notice it earlier.

She turned to him and lowered her head, looked at her bare feet, "I have no clothes to change. I did not take anything but my phone with me."

"Right. If you would be willing to give me your size, I will order something for you, but it will probably arrive in the morning, it's late."

She raised her wide-eyed eyes to him, "Jumin... I don't know if I would like to stay here for more than one night... I don't know yet what I will do..."

"Of course," What was he thinking? Why did he think she would stay here longer? He caught his breath, "But you cannot stay in those wet clothes, I'll give you something mine until they dry up."

"O-okay…" 

He gave her one of his shirts and when she went to the bathroom to freshen up and change, he sat on the sofa in the living room, lost in his mind. Why did he still feel so strangely disturbed? Why has it all been happening since she appeared in his life? It was hard enough to come to terms with V’s death. If his friend was here, he would have helped him understand what was happening to him. Or maybe not... In the end, he hid so many things… Jumin sighed and hid his face in his hands. He wanted to drink wine, but for some reason, he did not want Y/N to see him drinking because of... what?

He heard the bathroom door being opened and closed, and then the quiet and sweet "Jumin?".

"I am here," He answered.

She appeared in a room dressed in his striped shirt, reaching almost to her knees. Her hair was still wet, but not in such a disarray as before. He felt hot, his heart beat faster. It was so hard not to stare at her. And he felt wrong with it. The more so because she was ashamed, pulling the end of the shirt as if trying to cover her thighs more.

"Thank you for your shirt."

"No problem," He looked at her feet. Now, when they were clean, he noticed that they were sore, "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head, "It's not as bad as it looks." After these words, she moved slowly to him, sat at the couch nearby. "You were always right, Jumin," she said suddenly, her eyes were empty again.

"About what?"

"About Yuwoon."

Yuwoon. Every time he heard that name, he was overcome with anger. He could not understand why. When she first mentioned Yuwoon in the chat room, Jumin became worried. When she said after some time that she's in a relationship with that man, he felt as if something was crushing his lungs. He remembered what he had told her then. He asked her if she was sure about this relationship. He assured that he knows that he's the last person who could advise her on the relationship, but he did not want anyone to hurt her.

"Did he hurt you?" He heard anger in his voice that he did not control.

"He..." Her voice trembled, she hardly pushed her next words through her throat. "I caught him cheating on me."   

Jumin felt his rage grow even more. But he also felt something else... Something he did not want to admit to himself.

"I didn't want to go back to that apartment... To the one where..." She continued, tears began to flow down her cheeks. "I don't even know who this woman was, but they did it on our bed... I just came back from coffee with Jaehee. I'm sorry, Jumin, I should not bother you, I should call my family."

"No, do not think so, you do not bother me. You can stay here as long as you want," He assured, not even thinking about what he was saying. "And please, do not cry. It hurts me when I see you cry."

Elizabeth the 3rd jumped abruptly on her lap and curled up on them. What a sweet picture it was... Y/N in his shirt, with Elizabeth on her knees - now that she was sitting, exposed even more.

He felt that it was hard for him to breathe. Reflexively, he loosened his tie.

Meanwhile, Y/N began to stroke Elizabeth, with her other hand wiping tears, "I should not cry, I do not want to cry, it's so stupid, I was so stupid that I trusted him."

"You're not stupid, and I never wanted to be right about this man." Stop lying to yourself, he heard a voice inside his own head, "You are a wonderful person, kind, with a good heart."

She smiled at him through her tears, "You are also very kind, Jumin. Thank you that you came for me and agreed to take me in your house." 

"That's nothing, go to sleep. I see you are tired, you can take my bed."

"And where will you sleep?"

"In the guest room, you can take Elizabeth the 3rd with you to keep you company."

"Do you trust me enough to entrust me with your dear lady?" She smiled again, pale.

"It's just a cat," He replied, and when he saw her surprise on those words, he got up and said goodbye kindly, wishing her a good night's sleep.

Your POV

You felt strange, lying on Jumin's bed, in this luxurious bedding, on this incredibly comfortable mattress, and moreover... in his shirt. But you were extremely grateful to him. You did not know what you would do without him. However, you could not sleep. As soon as you closed your eyes, you saw Yuwoon, fucking this woman, coming inside her. You felt a huge pain in your lungs. You trusted this boy. You spent many sweet moments together and you really thought that... But all this turned out to be a lie, he destroyed everything.

To take care of something, you logged in to the chat room.

Jaehee Kang: Y/N!

Zen: My God, are you okay?

Jaehee Kang: Are you at Mr. Han's apartment?

You: Yes, hello, Jaehee, Zen.

You: I'm fine.

You: I am sorry that you were worried about me.

Zen: I'm still worried!

Zen: 

Zen: He... This jerk, he did not try anything?

You: What?

Zen: He's a man! You shouldn't be at night with a man who is not your boyfriend…

Jaehee Kang: I agree with Zen. If you feel uncomfortable, you can come to my place.

You: Stop it, you both. What are you thinking?

You: Why are you so cruel toward him? You judge him so easily!

You: If it was not for him, I would still be stuck in this damn park!

Zen: I would come for you and take you to Jaehee!

You: Yes, I'm sure you would. But now I'm at Jumin's place. He is very kind to me, so could you please stop with this nonsense? 

Zen: 

Zen: sorry, it's because we're worried about you.

Jaehee Kang: we should leave it for now

Jaehee Kang: Can you tell us what happened?

You: I caught Yuwoon cheating on me.

Zen: Gosh…

Jaehee Kang: I’m so sorry, Y/N…

You: I did not want to call my family, it's not their worry.

You: Neither yours, but...

You: I do not have anyone else.

Zen: You can count on us!

Zen:

Jaehee Kang: Yes, you can talk to us if it helps you.

You: I've been bothering everyone enough, but thank you.

[Jumin Han has entered the chat room]

Jumin Han: You're not bothering anyone.

Jumin Han: Why are you not sleeping?

You: And you?

Zen: Hey, trust-fund kid

Zen: You have to stay the robot you are.

Zen: Do not try to use the situation to "comfort her".

Jumin Han: What are you talking about again, Zen?

Zen: Y/N, do you remember what I was saying?

Zen: Men are beasts!

You: The only beast I've ever met is the one who cheated on me.

You: Really, Zen, I do not feel like listening to such things now.

You: Jumin is neither a robot nor a beast. He is a friend.

Zen: ugh, sorry ;;;;

Zen: 

Zen: This situation just making me sick ;;;

Jumin Han: Do not act as if you’re the one who suffers.

Jumin Han: You don’t have to be the center of attention now, Zen.

Zen: And you do not act so full of yourself!

Zen:

Zen: You don't even know what it's like to lose someone you care about! 

Zen: So what suffering do you talk about?

Jumin Han: I will take my leave now.

Jumin Han: Please, go to sleep, Y/N. I saw how tired you were.

[Jumin Han has left the chat room]

You: Did you really just said that Zen? 

Zen: I… Shit… 

You: Do I need to remind you that Jumin lost his best friend? NOT SO LONG AGO

You: He did so much for RFA, he helps me now, but all you can do is judge him and suspect him!

Zen: I’m sorry… 

You: You should tell that to him, not me.

[Y/N has left the chat room]

You threw your phone on the bed. You were angry. You were mad at Yuwoon, at Zen. You fixed your shirt and directed your steps to the guest room. You knocked on the door.

"Jumin, are you alright? May I come in?"

For a long moment, it was quiet, but in the end, you heard a "Yes". You opened the door and went inside. Jumin was sitting on the bed, in his pajamas, with his hair in disarray - it was a completely new picture for you. You never saw him in this state - in such an ordinary state... He was always so composed, his hair and clothes always in perfect condition.

It was dark in the room until Jumin turned on the lamp. Then you saw that sadness lurks in his eyes.

"Zen can be such an asshole," You said sharply and sat down on the bed next to Jumin. For some reason, he fidgeted restlessly in his place.

"Do not worry about him," Jumin answered, not looking at you.

"I don’t care about him, I care about you."

"Me?" He looked at you now, raising his eyebrows.

"You've been struggling with so many problems lately and nobody sees it, everyone at RFA is so unfair to you. I can't stand it."

Jumin looked at you in shock. Was this the first time someone stood up in his defense?

"But I see it, you are kind and caring, and you must know that you can always count on me."

"You should not... It's not you who should comfort me now."

"You've already done a lot for me, Jumin, so I think I can repay you?"

"You do not have to, I do not expect anything in return."

"I know that. It's difficult for you… without V?"

"I..." His voice cracked. You never heard such a voice from him. He ran his hand through his hair. "It is difficult."

"You do not have to hide it. You can be honest with me, about everything." You felt an unusual urge to do something. He had such a look on his face... Probably no one else saw him so depressed ever. You hesitated, but... you approached him on the bed and embraced him tightly. Jumin froze under your touch. You could feel his muscles tense. You heard as his breathing accelerated a little. For a long moment, he did not answer your grip, but you finally felt his hand on your back. It was a very delicate touch as if he was afraid to press you harder to himself.

"I'm your friend, Jumin. I know I can't replace V, but you should know that I'm here for you as well."

"I... Thank you... For saying that." His hand at your back trembled. "You must go to sleep now."

You moved away slowly, something sounded in his voice... You did not know how to describe it yet. But you felt cold first and then hot. Still, you smiled at him, "Yes, goodnight, Jumin, sleep well."   

You came back to "your" big bed, where Elizabeth the 3rd was waiting for you. You lay down next to her and closed your eyes. You could not sleep for a long time and your thoughts were running between Yuwoon and Jumin.

[catch22inareddress]

Twin Phœnix  Chapter Six Destination Unknown

OK SO THIS CHAPTER ISN’T AS LONG BUT IT FELT RIGHT TO END IT WHERE I DID. I WILL HAVE ONE MORE CHAPTER THAT I WILL PROBABLY BE A BEAST. MAYBE TWO MORE CHAPTERS. THEN DONZO. 

PLEASE COMMENT AND SEND SOME LOVE MY WAY. YOU KNOW IM A SUCKER AND I LOVE IT SO. FUELS MY WRITING!!!

As you lay in bed, waking to the loud murmurings from downstairs, you took in your surroundings. Last you remembered when the shock gave way, and you finally spoke with Bucky. It wasn't very calming. Not in the least. You hashed out the text and call situation with Eddie and Bucky was near frantic with his fidgeting. That was his only tell, that and the ever constant twitch in his jaw. He pleaded with you to call in the FBI, but you were too afraid it would only make things worse. While you trusted him, you were terrified to your bones.

Alexander Pierce had his claws in everything, and we had no idea who he had in his pocket. You could only trust the club and Wanda, that was it.  What scared you most was the thought of putting everyone in danger the longer you stayed here. You and Wanda had become attached, too much so. You knew she felt it also, the fear of them getting hurt because of the both of you. You saw it in her eyes today, and it left an unsettling pit in your stomach. It was the end of the line, no matter which route you took; the time was coming for the choice to be made. When you threw off the covers and walked downstairs, you couldn't have prepared yourself for what lay before you. The decision was going to be made for you, and much sooner than you had planned.

Wanda was in Vis' arms, curled up and afraid from all of the yelling. Bucky and Steve were toe to toe and shouting at one another, and they were eager to throw some blows. The words weren't even making it to your mind as you took in the two extra bodies standing there, as one noticed you on the stairwell; he nudged the other. The room became silent as every meeting you had with them playing in your mind. Every promise made to get you and Wanda out safe. All the intel that you had acquired just for them only to run and bury it when everything fell apart.

"Look who it is Rhodey. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Y/N. We got a call and thought it was too good to be true." Tony fucking Stark stood before you in his cocky smirk and old money suit. Charming as ever, while his part Rhodes just stood there, calm as ever.  They reported to Peirce himself and these...these were the men the Bucky and Steve trusted? They called them in even though you said no? They...betrayed you and Wanda for what? To keep the club safe from HYDRA? Your mind was racing with muddled thoughts as tears burned your eyes like acid rain pouring from the sky.

Gripping the rail and shooting daggers to men in the room they all fell silent, awaiting your words. Bucky was the first to break the silence when you refused to, only being able to maintain your breathing. "I-I told them to wait until I could talk to you, baby. I didn't call em' in." Your head was spinning, and you made eye contact with Wanda who silently nodded and pulled away from Vis, his face in pain from her pulling away, knowing that this was her putting distance between them. He knew it would happen this way. He knew that's why he stood beside Bucky in the meeting but no one, save Nat was on their side and look at the mess that was forming. He shook his head as she made her way to your side. Bucky's eyes never left yours with a watery plea for you to believe him. "Save it, Barnes." Was your cold reply causing him to grip his bent knee on the stair, bracing himself.

"These two report directly to Pierce himself, I don't trust them. You assholes went behind our back when we trusted you. I trusted you!! You said you would try and find another way. You're a fucking liar James Barnes!" You put Wanda behind you as she retreated to your room. You knew that you could make an exit from the balcony where they wouldn't expect it but never through them and out the front door. Not without a fight that both of you would certainly lose, the odds were never in your favor.

Bucky looked sorrowful, and Steve looked like he was fucked, well because he was. He screwed everyone closest to him by trying to do the reasonable thing, even if he did trust Agent Stark and Rhodes he didn't listen to his heart. He did want he "knew" was right even though he felt it was wrong.

"Baby, please." Bucky pleaded and grabbed your arm more forcefully than he intended to in absolute desperation and you did something that you always wanted to do to Eddie. All of the pain, angst, betrayal, love lost, and anger came out of you in one wave of emotions. You drew your fist back and decked him square in the mouth. Bucky stumbled down the steps, tripping on his feet and falling the ground; blood trickling from his mouth. Steve went to help him up, but Bucky violently pushed his hands away. 

"This is your fucking fault, Rogers. Always thinking you know what is best and never taking EVERYONE into consideration. It's time to get off of you high fuckin horse and see it for what it is. Your fuck up!"

You and Wanda ran to your room and shut the door harshly while you yielded against it. Urging your tears to remain at bay, now was not the time to indulge in emotions and let your heart give in. You could deal with it later. "Wanda, it's now or never. I know..I know you have feelings for Vis and we can always come back to him when the dust settles. If you want, but I need to know now..." Wanda took you into her arms and held you cutting you off so you wouldn't have to keep going.

"We both are walking away from a lot here. It's safer this way though. For them, everyone. If Tony and Rhodey have turned, then we need to bail, we can just hope that maybe we can come back later and be with them." You stifled a sob at the thought of leaving Bucky even though he lied to you and pulled away to wipe her tear stained face. "C'mon Wan. Looks like we're gonna be jumping." She nodded as you grabbed your keys, phone, and jacket.

Bucky was at your door pounding loudly but speaking softly, a complete contrast to one another. "Baby, please. I didn't...I didn't betray you. You gotta believe me...I lo" You jumped before he could finish his sentence, unable to listen to words. You desperately wanted to believe his promises but you couldn't, not now. It would only make leaving him harder. You and Wanda jumped out the window and onto the hay piles on the side of the house, softening your landing. You made a speedy escape to your car, but as soon as you turned the engine, you saw the front door open.

Vis came running out with Steve hot on his tail, Bucky came from where you and Wanda had, jumping out the same window himself. You heard yelling for both of your names as you peeled out and down their road. Bucky was running towards his bike, but when you got to the end of the driveway, you shut the gate and broke the lock, turning down the road out leading out of town.

Destination unknown.

Eddies POV:

Eddie was sitting at his penthouse looking out over the city, smoking a cigarette to calm some of his anger and frustration. As a plume of smoke rose above his head, his phone rang pulling him out of his dark and ominous thoughts.

"Hey, boss. Looks like your woman and her sister are running again." Eddie chuckled into the phone, finally some good news. "What else ya got for me?"

The voice on the other end continued on. "Feds came, ya know the ones Brock tried to buy off that wouldn't budge. Well, they came, looks like some kind of fight went down. Damn girls jumped out the fucking window and sped off in the car like a bat outta hell. Heading north. Want me to follow em?" Eddie tossed the cigarette off the balcony.

"Yea, I'm about a day out. Keep me informed. I know Brock will get word soon enough, but I gotta get my woman first. Then he can have the scarlet bitch to himself. I'll have another job for you too when I get there. I'm gonna kill, Barnes and she's gonna watch." There was a pause on the other line.

"Better bring another man or two, boss. Barnes isn't someone to mess with." Eddie gripped the railing so hard it bent under his strength. "Yea, well shithead. Neither am I."

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[scribeofmorpheus]

The Rebel Queen (vi)

Chapter Six: Aftermath

Pairing: Poe Dameron x (OFC) Princess Calista Ordell

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | A03

Words: 3k | Warnings: More ramblings of a delusional fanfic writer…

A/N: Ahhh! The Mandalorian’s trailer dropped and I’m… Whew! On a separate note, here is a post that links to causes to help aid Brazil Indigenous tribes and here is an article that talks about what is happening and other causes you may want to check out.

Taglist is open

Epilogue | About Thesmora

The Somnambulist strained against Odhen’s hands, the nav-stick rigid and stubborn. His hands were sweaty and raw, his muscles shaking as he tried to keep the ship from tearing in half from the intense speeds she was flying through. The Somnambulist had taken too much damage and hadn’t received nearly enough love. It was a miracle she was still holding fast.

“Climb, girl, climb,” he spoke endearingly to the metal ship as they broke through Takodana’s stratosphere. Heat from the friction of speed licked at his windshield.

Using the back of his hand, Odhen whipped the sweat from his forehead and pushed it up into his greasy hairline. A shaky laugh breaking through the empty cockpit as he finally saw stars.

He felt like he could finally slouch back in his chair, then he heard Koa scream loud and shrill. His heart started to race all over again as he swallowed against the dry lump in his throat. A weak sigh leaving him as he blinked away the images that plagued his mind. He blinked away the sound of his wife’s dying breaths coming through, delayed and nearly inaudible, via a weak tight-beam transmission. Now his eyes were watering and he stared down at the medal meant to signify heroism on his jacket and he sobbed, hand pulling the pin so tightly it threatened to tear through his jacket’s tough material.

Relief surged through him when Koa went silent. The whole ship was deader than a graveyard after that. The only sound was the Somnambulist’s soothing thrum. Ton-Ton waddled over, exhausted pants leaving his unseen mouth as he handed a data-pad to Odhen, revealing in Jawaese what was on it.

Odhen wiped his face with the rag that always hung on his belt, the smell of grease was strong, but he didn’t care. He read over the coordinates and swore. Fate was a cruel mistress. Of all the damned places in the entire galaxy, of course their next stop would be the one place he swore never to return to. D’Qar.

Ton-Ton jumped several times, trying his best to get into the co-pilot seat and Odhen chuckled with no humour as he watched his friend struggle to get up. The Jawa took offence at his rudeness and pulled out a wrench from under his robes and threw it at Odhen’s head.

In sluggish movements, using limbs too tired to function, Odhen blocked the wrench from hitting into his face but that just transferred the impact to his shattered elbow and he winced.

“The elbow, mind the elbow, you short devil!” Odhen hissed as he rubbed at his old war injury.

With a grumble, he picked Ton-Ton up and placed him on the chair, an accusatory finger wiggling in front of the Jawa’s one eye, “How many times have I lectured you about hittin’ people? This is my ship, I’m in charge and I’m orderin’ you to cut it out before I space you.”

Ton-Ton swore at him in rapid-fired shots, his little hands whacking the air causing his robe’s sleeves to swish about. Odhen was about to trade his own insults but then he suddenly stopped himself. He was no mood for their exhausting dynamic.

He punched in the coordinates and with a prayer that they wouldn’t be turned to stardust, he set the ship into hyperdrive and just watched the raining stars for a quiet minute.

“I need a drink,” Odhen complained as he licked the sides of his dry cheeks. “Keep us from collidin’ with a satellite will ya’.”

Ton-Ton dismissed him with a wave, then barked over his shoulder as Odhen stood to leave.

“I’m not your barmaid, get one yourself,” Odhen replied.

Ton-Ton made a snide comment and Odhen shook his head before giving in to the Jawa’s request, “Fine, what d’ya want?”

Ton-Ton’s pitch raised with uncertainty as he prattled on. Odhen held up his hand to stop the little firecracker from droning on and giving him a headache.

“We ain’t got none of that. I don’t even know why you think we would. We’re smugglers, not snooty aristocrats. We got some Thessi hooch and we got one cask left of that fancy Ne'tra gal stuff we were supposed to deliver. Pick your poison.”

Ton-Ton answered in monotone and Odhen nodded in response.

“Hooch. Commin’ up,” Odhen blinked slowly as he made his way to the lower decks.

 Odhen passed the med bay on his way to the lower deck. Inside he saw Koa in a medically induced coma, her vital organs hooked up to old and beaten machines that needed replacing at least a decade ago. Her warm breath fogged up the mask that covered half her face. Fresh blade slashes and green contusions on her bronze skin marred her arms and legs to imperfection. It would be more accurate to say one and a half arms now. 

There was a faint smell of antiseptic and burned hair. It itched at his nose. The white gown they had dressed her in reminded Odhen of funerals and with that simple, unwanted thought, his heart palpitated uncomfortably. 

She was so young, too young to look like this. He didn’t think he could survive seeing someone die again. It filled him with fear. 

He felt heavy all of a sudden, a name he hadn’t uttered in years slipping out as he braced his jacket at the left side, “Len…”

All of a sudden, the young, freckle-faced boy who held himself like a man, wandered up to Odhen, a sparkle in his eye that meant he knew who he was approaching –and it wasn’t Odhen Boro the smuggler, it was the other guy, the so-called hero.

“Heya, we didn’t get the chance to properly be introduced. I’m-“

Odhen frowned, he didn’t need another name to go with another face. He knew enough of those already and no good had come of adding more to his memory. “I don’t care.”

“Oh,” Zeeke’s mouth fell, his outstretched hand crumpling into a ball as he shoved it back into his pale blue utility pants, the other held onto a blood-stained brown jacket too big for his slender arms. “I just… I wanted to ask-“

Odhen brushed passed him, determined to be alone, “If you need something go ask the droid, it’s what he’s bloody there for.”

“I- Uh… sorry. Of course, I just wanted to say thanks, is all,” Zeeke ducked away in search of Watts.

Odhen pressed the pads of his fingers to his eyes until he saw white spots. 

“Now I need two bloody drinks,” he grimaced.

Calista sat with her head in her hands and her body slumped against a cold metal wall. The floor was uncomfortable, digging through her thighs until it found bone. She didn’t care. At least it meant she was still capable of feeling. She was exhausted. After having a disagreement with Mokk-Toh about his not wanting to be put under to allow his wounds to heal faster, Calista decided that the one thing she needed more than anything was solitude. Or the next best thing in a smugglers ship.

The thrum of the engine was louder here below deck. It smelled of ozone and the air tasted like foam. It was probably the effect of being so close to the fuel converters. The darkness was soothing though, and that’s all that mattered to her.

The sound of clanking echoed from an equally dark compartment, the grumbling and grumpy swearing let her know it was Odhen. His frustrated argument with inanimate objects made her smile. He may have been ungroomed, greasy and of poor manner, but something about Odhen struck Calista as being a man with a heart too sensitive for this time. A man guarded because he feared his own empathy, his own vulnerability. He reminded her of what her father would have turned into had he lived to see another war engulf the galaxy.

Another set of footsteps descended the ladder. Poe’s voice called out and Odhen yelped in surprise.

“Sorry,” Poe chuckled lightly. “Just looking for the kid. You seen him?”

“He ain’t here, last I saw he was by the med bay,” Odhen said.

“I just came from there, he’s not in the cockpit or the comms room.”

Odhen cleared his throat, “Look, I can’t help you. I don’t have eyes everywhere. I’m a pilot, not a Jedi.”

“You been drinking?” Poe asked with concern. 

“What of it?”

“I just expected the man in charge of navigating us through dangerous space to be sober enough to know the difference between which button launches a torpedo and which brings down the landing gear,” Poe said snidely.

“Why does everyone insist on talkin’ to me?” Odhen’s voice got an octave louder, “This is my ship. Don’t like how I run it, the airlocks that way.”

“What happened to you?” Poe asked almost with pity. “Those medals are Resistance issued. And assuming you didn’t steal them, you used to be more than… this.”

“Yeah, well if you’re the best General Leia has to offer, you’re in for a rude awakening kid. Wipe those stars out your eyes, this is war, war ain’t no place for poster boys like yourself. If you expect to live through it, you’ll be sporting a tough shell too,” Odhen spoke rudely and yet his words held an ominous premonition to it. 

Heavy feet clomped away and the whir of a door sliding open followed after. 

Calista heaved a sigh. All she wanted was some damn peace and quiet for two minutes. Two. Minutes.

She took a breath and cast her eyes up, staring at the buzzing light. Poe walked into the room and froze for a moment, taken aback by the fact someone else was down there with him.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to…” His dark eyes narrowed, a thumb pointing behind him. “You didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

Calista smiled and said lazily, “I didn’t hear a thing.”

Poe chuckled, motioning to leave before something in his face decided otherwise, “You alright down here?”

“I’m fine.”

For some reason, he didn’t buy her words. Poe ruffled his hair before skittishly moving towards Calista, one thumb looped around his belt loop. After rocking on the balls of his feet, he sighed and slid down beside her.

There was only the sound of the engine thrum for a long time. Calista’s eyes kept wandering through the ship, her nails digging at the patterned panelling on the floor. Poe held his wrists with his knees digging into the crooks of his elbows.

“So, princess huh?” he said softly.

Calista chuckled, “You assumed. I merely went along with it.”

“A heads up would have been nice, now I look like a right fool in front of royalty,” he mused.

“Well, fool is a good look on you,” she joked.

He held out his hand, “We didn’t get the chance to have a proper introduction. Poe Dameron, Commander with the Resistance.”

Calista blinked slowly, fatigue circling her eyes, “Calista Ordell, Princess of Thesmora.”

They shook hands and then returned to staring at the wall in front of them.

“How’s your friend doing?” he asked.

Calista inhaled deeply, “I’d rather not… if that’s okay with you.”

Poe nodded, changing the subject, “You know, you two look a lot alike.”

Calista eyed him, nibbling at the corner of her mouth as she felt the muscle tug, “Is that your way of saying it wasn’t your fault that you mistook her for me?”

Poe scratched at the scruff under his chin, “Maybe…” he smiled. “But you do resemble each other.”

Calista started undoing one of her braids to keep her hands busy, “There’s some Ordell in her blood. A great grandmother or something other, I think. She got the warmer eyes though.” 

“And yet, why do I sense that she’s pricklier than you are?” 

“Because you spent five minutes arguing with her. That’s like arguing with a stone wall.”

They turned to each other and laughed in breathy puffs of air. Calista’s eyes growing smaller from the smile on her face. A bit of the weight was taken off her weary soul. She was thankful to him for that.

“She means a lot to you, huh?” he asked, fingers brushing against the letters stamped on his dog-tags, mind split between two places.

“I’ve known her for more than half my life. She’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a sister,” Calista remarked with fondness, her voice quaky. “I can always count on her never be afraid to boss me around –to challenge me or have a normal conversation with me.”

Poe’s shoulder nudged hers, “What do you call this?” his finger circled between them and the dark, empty room.

She smirked, answering truthfully, “A distraction. One I was in dire need of… thank you.” She said earnestly. “It feels good to talk about anything other than war.”

Poe let go of his dog tags, a sliver of sadness pulling his lips back down, “I know the feeling. Vaguely.”

“I’m sorry about your men, on the ship,” she said wholeheartedly after another beat of silence.

Poe smiled with gratitude, but he didn’t look like a man in mourning, he was just shaken, “The apology is appreciated but not necessary. You didn’t kill them.” 

“What were they like?” she asked out of curiosity.

Poe’s jaw tensed before he replied with hollow words, “They were soldiers.”

Footsteps descended down to greet them in their small space.

“Hey hotshot, you down here?” it was Paige. 

“In here Tico,” he called out.

She followed after his voice, knocking into a few things on her way over. The first thing Calista noticed about her was that she wasn’t wearing her woolly hat. She looked much younger with her jet black hair falling in waves to shape her face. Poe was stunned for a moment but shook himself back to reality. The atmosphere had changed.

Paige’s eyes went wide when they met Calista’s, “Oh, uh… Your majesty –Am I allowed to call you that?– I wasn’t expecting to find you down here. I just…” She pointed at Poe. “Came down here looking for him.”

“Calista is fine, titles don’t matter much this far out in space,” she reassured the flustered Resistance soldier. 

Paige let out a breath, fingers running through her much tamer hair, “Good, thought I botched that one for a moment. I’m new to this whole… socialising with royalty thing.”

Paige shuffled awkwardly before tossing a brown jacket at Poe, “I found Zeeke. He got the droid to clean that for you by the way.”

Poe gave a mock salute with two fingers, “Where was he?”

Paige’s eyebrows rose high as she folded her arms, “In the comms room sending a tight beam.” 

“That was the first place I looked,” Poe informed her as he slipped into his Resistance issue jacket. 

“You guys must have gotten your wires crossed,” she huffed with an amused smile.

Poe stood from the ground, but didn’t offer Calista a hand up. Somehow he knew she wanted to stay in the dark a little longer. He nodded curtly at her with a knowing look and started towards Paige.

“You feeling better? No more nausea or vertigo?” his voice grew lighter.

Paige shrugged as she walked beside him, “Won’t lie, the nap helped a bunch. Mostly, I’m excited to get back to Rose and scraping the gunk off the wing thrusters…”

Calista closed her eyes as she took in the encompassing comfort of silence once more. The vibrations of the engine burrowing even deeper into her bones, all the way to her marrow. The vibrations turned comforting, like being held safely inside a womb with the sound of a mother’s heartbeat echoing throughout. Calista’s heavy lids grew heavier and she wasn’t strong enough to keep them open any longer. 

 Calista dreamed she was back on Thesmora, feet bare and planted on the white sands of the beach. The water was so clear it reflected the golden sunset back in a spectacular fashion. The warm water rushing up the sand lapped at her toes. She felt unburdened here. Free.

“Calista,” her mother’s voice sounded out from behind her and Calista gasped.

“Madani?” She whispered in shock as she spun around.

Mother?

Lo and behold, there she was, the magnificent Lenora Ordell. Queen of Thesmora. Mother. Wife. Sister. Ruler.

Her smile creased at her face, coily hair styled elegantly, eyes dusted purple –her signature colour. She held out her hands and Calista practically fell into her embrace. When she did, she felt smaller, shorter… younger.

Looking up, her mother seemed to be taller. Calista looked down at her hands and noticed they had shrunk to a child’s size, so had her toes. Her foot stepping in a footprint nearly three times the size of her own.

“You’ve got big shoes to fill,” a familiar masculine voice spoke out.

Calista removed her face from the sweet-scented fabric of her mother’s dress.

“Farhi?” she mumbled with joy

Father?

Calista turned to the side, eyes catching sight of the handsome and poised looking man who held his shoulders square and had the kindest golden eyes in all the galaxy. Duke Romaine Andrastas Belamon, consort to the queen, father and senator stood proudly before her. He looked barely a day older than when Calista last saw him. All her life, her father had been the older of her parents, but now, in the dream, it was her mother that looked older.

Childish Felix, beautiful, wryly and ill-mannered as he was, sprinted close to Calista’s stubby feet, tripping her onto the sand. Tears streamed down her face as she watched her brother run back to the ocean, her father lecturing him for his bad behaviour.

Lenora knelt down, knees digging into fine sand.

“Always find the courage to stand, my child,” a beautiful smile graced over Lenora's timeless features, her hand reaching down. “For as long as you believe you have the strength to keep going, then you will have the strength to keep going.” 

Calista rubbed at her cheeks, wiping hot tears away as she dusted her trousers and accepted her mother's outstretched hand. The sounds of her brother’s laughter tickling at her ear. 

“Remember Calista, just because you got knocked down, doesn’t mean you belong there.” Lenora helped Calista to her feet, glancing over at the golden shores of the beach, a content look in her eyes. 

As Lenora stepped to the side, a purple water lily grew in the spot where her feet had been planted. It was her coronation flower. The symbol that marked the start of her administration. To her people, purple meant strength in the face of adversity and great willpower –it also meant stubbornness and beauty. The water lily symbolised balance –someone of old faith with an open mind. 

Calista stared back at her own smaller footprint and noticed bare hyphae strands twining in the ground. No flower as yet. No identity as a ruler.

Boots crunched into the sand, clunky armour grinding at the joints. Calista jumped in fear when she saw Versengen encroaching towards her family. His footsteps turned the sand to glass, heat effervescing off the boot prints.

“You look so much like your father,” he repeated.

Calista spun around to look for her father, eyes darting anxiously, but he was gone, so was Felix. Nothing but clouds in the sky and waves on the shore. 

Something warm meandered along the length of her hand and she was shocked to discover it was blood. Calista’s head snapped up, seeing Maligma’s polished, dark nails wrapped around her mother’s throat while a sharp dagger was held close to her mouth. A fresh cut opened her mother’s throat so all she could do was gag voicelessly.

“Did you have a good day at the beach?” Maligma asked with an unhinging smile, her hair and body caught on fire, devouring everything like wildfire.

When she looked back at Versengen, he was inching his helmet off his head. The sun’s glare blinded her momentarily, and in that moment she thought she saw a familiar face hiding underneath the helmet. 

Then a cold touch shivered her out of her dream.

 Mokk-Toh hovered over her, his body looking the same; bruised, cut up and in need of rest. He removed his hand from her arm and stood upright, “We’re here princess.”

“Where’s here?” she rubbed her eyes to chase the blurry vision.

“D’Qar.”

To be continued...

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[daphnenott]

flying, falling

complete and utter wish fulfillment tbh but the prompt was: dramione + philip carlyle x anne wheeler mashup

pairing: draco malfoy x hermione granger 

word count: 1923

setting: greatest showman au

i.

The first time he sees her, it is among the swirling lights of the circus, the multicolored fabrics swishing below, the cheers and raucous cries of the crowd muted beneath the rush of blood in his ears.

The first time he sees her, he knows he is in trouble.

ii.

The first time she sees him, she hates him on principle. The press of his suit, the crisply folded corners of his collar, the shiny black shoes that he frowns at when someone accidentally kicks up dirt, as if any smidgen of dust upon his person will magically denigrate him one of the working class. He’s the kind of person that Hermione would never talk to, and she knows that she is the kind of person that he would never talk to either. And that’s perfectly fine with her.

She hates the way he looks at them- the circus freaks. Or rather, the way he decidedly doesn’t. He looks through them, past them, as if they aren’t there, as if they aren’t people themselves. So she does the same to him- walks straight past him, ignores any attempt he makes at speaking to her. It’s rude, she knows, but he’s rude as well, and Hermione is a big believer in justice and the just world fallacy. So she ignores him, and moves on, and pretends to be utterly unaware of the way his startling grey eyes track every movement she makes.

It makes her skin crawl, truth be told.

iii.

His name is Draco Malfoy, and he is a well-respected playwright, the son of aristocrats and old money. He doesn’t typically associate with people below him, the poor. The entirety of the working class. He isn’t entirely sure what madness took over and compelled him to agree with the circus owner’s request for partnership, but he supposes it has something to do with the way he feels that rush of attraction for the curly-haired girl- Hermione, the owner had quickly introduced as they’d walked by- as he watches her swing from the trapeze, soaring high, high above him.  

It’s embarrassing, how much Draco likes this girl, and for no good reason at all. Sure, she’s a talent, a vision in the air, sure, she makes his breath hitch in his throat and his hands get awkwardly, uncomfortably sweaty, his heart threaten to jump out of his chest, but in the end, she is nothing more than a poor girl with an aptitude for acrobatics. But still, the fact remains. He wants her, he wants her, he wants her.

He wants her up to the point she comes up to him and slaps him in the face.

iv.

Hermione hadn’t seen much of Draco- Malfoy, she’d taken to calling him, out of a large sense of rebellion and an unwillingness to form attachment- lately. Not since she had slapped him, at least. She figured that he had left to go nurse his pride- a typical move for those with fragile masculinities, she thought- somewhere far, far away from the circus. She hoped, at least.

She had thrown herself vigorously into her training the last few days ever since he had left, taking advantage of the absence of a certain blond-haired prat. Much as she was loath to admit it, his gaze had driven her to distraction, and she hadn’t been able to focus on her new routine as much as she would have liked to.

Slowly, Hermione taped up her hands, walking to the side of the rink and scrubbing some chalk on her palms for a better grip. Unraveling the coarse rope wound tightly along the hook on the column, she walks with it to the center of the rink, backing up and taking a running start before she feels the weight attached to the other end of the rope pull her up into the air. For a moment, she is breathless, soaring, flying. This was the part she enjoyed the most, the time when she felt most in control, her mind quiet for once.

Most people were afraid of the height. Hermione wasn’t. It wasn’t that she was reckless, or fearless, but simply that she had enough faith in herself, enough confidence in her amount of practice to know that her own life was in her hands, she was in control, and that logically, the risk of her falling during an actual performance was slim. As long as she was in control, she would be fine.

Hermione was always in control. Until Malfoy walked into the building, and all rational thought fled her mind.

v.

She was falling. That was all Draco knew, all he saw, and despite his wounded pride, he rushed forward, kicking up dirt and sand behind him as he reached out his arms to catch the girl that infuriated and frustrated him beyond measure. She crashed into him hard, and Draco virtually crumpled under the sudden weight of her body.

It was a moment before they both groaned, Draco trying, and failing miserably, to brush some of the dirt off his once impeccable clothes. He tried to ignore the way she was sitting on top of his legs, her every breath pushing against the growing knot in his stomach. Slowly, delicately, he reaches up to her face, pushing the disarrayed curls behind her ear. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t know why she’s suddenly letting him touch her when last week she had so vehemently come up to him and slapped him square across the face. He doesn’t know anything when it comes to Hermione Granger.

“I,” she starts, then clears her throat. “Thank you,” she says quietly, before standing up and walking away, shoulders proud and head held high.

He memorizes the rosy shade of her cheeks, the intensity of her dark eyes.

vi.

She tries not to think about the way he had looked- looks, she corrected herself- at her. She tries not to think about him in general, but it was hard when he seemed to be everywhere she turned, either helping out with the circus or mingling with the performers. He seemed to have gotten past his original prejudice in the weeks that he had been here, but Hermione still doesn’t trust him.

She can’t afford to.

Some part of her wonders about him though, and Hermione has always been a curious girl. She can’t deny the attraction that had seemed to have awoken the night he had saved her, but still, she avoids his glances, and secretly puzzles at night at why he’s changed.

vii.

The next time they interact is at the theatre; it’s one of Draco’s shows, and he had generously invited the circus performers to attend, buying out an entire section of seats for them. Everything was going marvelously well, the play was running smoothly, fate had somehow maneuvered Hermione into the seat next to him, and yet he could focus on none of these things besides the fact that Hermione’s hand was perilously close to his and he had been debating for the last half hour whether or not to intertwine her much smaller hand with his.

The first brush of fingers was an accident- he had shifted slightly and as a consequence, his arm had moved over and touched hers; he froze. The second time was purposeful. When Hermione hadn’t made any sign nor sound of protest, he dared to hold her hand completely, very much relieved when she relaxed hers against his, the palm of hers skimming lightly against the palm of his.

During intermission, Draco happened to glance up into the box seats, meeting the glare of both his parents. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were the definition of Manhattan elite: they were the well-known politicians, descended from French lineage and aristocracy. As he watched, Lucius turned to speak to Narcissa. To an outsider, it might have seemed as if Lucius were simply whispering sweet nothings in his wife’s ear, but Draco knew better. Even from a distance, he could see the tension to his parents’ posture, the way Lucius’s grip on his cane was a little too tight.

Draco dropped Hermione’s hand, his fingers feeling oddly bereft of her warmth. She turned to him, curious, but he refused to look at her, and it didn’t take her long before she worked out why he had so openly rejected her. Shaking her head, she brushed past him, refusing to speak a word.

He had always been a coward, and he had never hated himself more for it.

viii.

She saw him in the turmoil of the fire. It wasn’t as if she had been actively looking for him- no, it was merely that his distinctively bright hair was hard to miss, even through the smoke and ash raining from the rafters of the building. She had seen him corralling performers and pushing them to the exits, pressing his suit jacket to his mouth and face, trying to avoid the soot and contaminated air.

She had been trying to do the same, pushing others in front of her, checking around her to make sure that other people had gotten out before her, but just as she made for the exit where she had seen the back of Draco’s head disappear, a beam fell in front of her, blocking the way.

Thinking quickly, she pivoted on her heel, knowing there was another exit to the side of the building, praying desperately that it wasn’t blocked off as well. With luck, it was clear, and she made it safely through and away from the building, running when she saw the rest of the performers gathered near the front. Relief rose in her chest, quickly tempered when she noticed that they seemed to be huddled around someone. Screams and cries reached her ears, calls for help lost among the sirens and vicious crackling of the fire.

She searched for Draco’s head, but couldn’t find him. There was a figure on the ground.

Dread rushed through her veins.

It was Draco.

“What happened?” she managed to choke out, unable to tear her eyes away from his figure- too still, she thought- spread on the floor. She had watched him leave the building, had known that she was the last one before she left.

The girl next to her looked at her briefly, a strange mixture of resentment and pity in her eyes. “He went back in for you.”

ix.

“You bastard,” she said, and she meant it. “You imbecile. You stupid, reckless, git.”

He didn’t move; didn’t stir, give her that grin she knew meant spelled trouble for her heart.

He didn’t do anything at all.

And unwillingly, she broke down crying.

x.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was her. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days- her hair was an absolute atrocity, her eyes puffy and tired, her delicate features wan with exhaustion.

And yet, Draco thought she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Without thinking, he pushes himself off the small hospital bed, and kisses her, and it’s like he’s seeing her for the first time again, feeling that rush of adrenaline beneath his skin and his heart pound violently against his ribcage. One of his hands winds up in her hair, and the other settles on her waist, and hers come up to rest on his shoulders, and the kiss is soft, and sweet, and perfect.

xi.

The first time he sees her, he is in love.

[fierypen37]

The Oasis: Chapter 2

In honor of the Boatsex-versary today, I give you another chapter of Masseur!Jon and CEO!Dany

Sweat streamed down his face. His hair had fallen loose from its tie and one curl bounced annoyingly against his cheek as he ran. His leg muscles screamed with each stride, each breath sawing, his heart thundering in his ears. More speed. A block left . . .  Ghost loped on the leash, matching him step for step. Half a block left . . . The old Targaryen Palace shone under floodlights ahead. The sky was a leaden grey, thick humid air promising rain. A stitch burned in his side. Gods, almost there . . .

Jon summited the last stair with a last burst of energy. Jon pulled up, folding his hands behind his head, sucking in deep gasps. Ghost circled around his legs, his tail wagging madly.

“Aye, you’re faster than me, as always,” Jon wheezed, grinning. Whew. He loved that burn in his leg muscles, that deep ache in his chest ebbing away to a subtle euphoria. A fierce sense of accomplishment. He’d conquered the bastard.

This early in the morning, there were only a smattering of people gathered on the plaza. Tourists, by the look of them, marveling at the spectacle of the Targaryen Palace behind ornate wrought iron gates. By any reckoning, it was impressive. The Targaryen sigil roared on a massive plate, brilliant in red gold on a background of polished slate. Though their numbers dwindled and government had shifted to a more egalitarian parliament, any man or woman of power invoked an echo of Targaryen strength.

A flash of pale hair out of the corner of his eye. Jon’s heart leapt to his throat. Oh fuck. She did say she ran the stairs on Aegon’s Hill . . .

“Ghost heel, you big lout,” Jon said with a tug on the lead. He yanked his hair into a semblance of order, peering through the clusters of gawking tourists—the woman was at least six inches taller than Dany, neat-featured and cute, her hair a spill of honey blond, walking arm in arm with a girlfriend. Not her.

Jon shook his head, marveling at how the mysterious Dany Steele snared him. The bewildering hunger hadn’t waned in the week since he’d seen her. Not by a longshot. Not only was it inconveniently lustful dreams that left him irritated and hard, but heart-stopping near-glimpses while he was getting morning tea before work, walking home from the laundromat, or running stairs with Ghost. Creamy white skin, pale hair, that little mole high on her shoulder, that fucking moan . . . Shit. His heart thudded as some blood thundered south. Jon exhaled an irritated breath.

He’d surreptitiously poured over her file at The Oasis, mooning idiot he was. A massage once or twice weekly for the past month. Missy’s neat cursive detailed the problem areas in her neck and back. Nothing else. No contact information, no health history, not a measly scrap of information. Consummate professional she was, Missy didn’t gossip about her clients. Not that Jon could summon the guts to ask when they crossed paths.

Jon pulled out his smartphone, finding two texts from Sam, one from Arya, and one from Tormund, his boss at the contractor’s office. A tap opened the text from Tormund.

The fucker Greyjoy called in again Can u pick up a shift 2day? Succinct and to the point, as always. A smarter person than Jon wouldn’t answer their phone on their day off, but Jon had never been accused of being smart.

What time? he tapped back.

9 to 9 The Westerling project needs 2 b finished ASAP I’ll owe you

Jon muttered a curse under his breath. Another twelve? On his day off? The bells within the Sept of Baelor chimed the hour along with fanciful embellishments to wow the tourists. Eight o’ clock now. Time to go home, shower, grab breakfast. Maybe working himself to exhaustion would quench the erotic dreams. After wanking himself blind for the past week, a night of untroubled sleep was appealing.

“A girlfriend would work too,” he said wryly to himself. Working two jobs, he barely had time to sleep, much less find a girlfriend. One night stands after going to the pub with his buddies was the summation of his romantic life lately.

Ghost, a huge white mutt—the lady at the shelter swore he was part direwolf—nudged his hip with a big wet nose.

“Don’t worry, buddy. Sam’ll check in on you,” Jon said.

I’ll be there U owe me

Tormund answered immediately: Thx Snow U r a lifesaver I’ll buy u a beer after work

That doesn’t mean anything U and ur wife own a pub

Then I know the beer’s good! My lady misses you

Jon snorted.

“Come, Ghost. Let’s go home,” he said, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

Heat radiated from the concrete beneath his trainers. A listless breeze tugged at the flag flying over the Targaryen palace: nine gold shields on an azure field halved with a black axe and sickle. King’s Landing stretched out beneath him, the streetlights scattered jewels of orange and green light, the horizon lost in gauzy swathes of mist. The view was part of the reason he subjected himself to this torture six days a week. No time to relish it now. Jon took a steadying breath and picked up the pace down the stair. Only five minutes until the next El train south toward his building.

                                                         ~

 Daenerys passed a hand over her burning eyes, leaning back in her office chair. A sizable dent made in her emails to colleagues, assistants detailing upcoming court dates, arraignments and board meetings. The war with the Harpy Triumvirate raged on. Rakharo of her security detail sent a weekly dossier detailing the latest threats on her life. The promise of torture, rape, and murder, as long as she spearheaded the effort to block the Triumvirate’s interests both in Westeros and abroad. Standard fare. The words were empty, and bounced off her mental armor without a scratch. Vis vociferously fought her devotion to such work. In his mind any energy not focused on Rising Dragon Inc. was energy wasted. The threats underscored his point.

Another folder held the wedding plans, adequately labeled The Hot Mess. Her cursor swerved determinedly away from that. The caterer backed out to serve some party in the River district. The florist threatened to level a ridiculous surcharge to ferry the blooms she wanted from the Reach district. Daenerys stifled a yawn. She could stare down pitiless lawyers and hardened criminals, endure deaths threats all day, but she hadn’t the mental fortitude to argue with an uppity dress designer. No, not tonight. Daenerys pushed back from the sleek computer, incongruous compared to the ornate ironwood desk, polished to a rich patina.

Alone in the office at this hour, she stretched her arms over her head. The sharp-shouldered suit jacket stretched taut across her shoulders. Rigid muscles ached. She sidled close to the window. Floor-to-ceiling one-way windows filled the eastern wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city and Blackwater Bay beyond. By city ordinance, no building was built higher than the old Targaryen Palace on Aegon’s Hill. The thorny red-stoned towers rose above her building, lit by the cool glow of floodlights. A constant reminder of Targaryen heritage, as Vis was fond of saying. Daenerys glimpsed her distorted reflection in the window. Circles under her eyes. The white silk blouse hung listless. She’d lost weight.

Daenerys kneaded the back of her neck, an angry knot of tension clenched like fist in her muscle. A glance at the clock said it was half past nine. She’d been in the office since five forty-five this morning. Long past time for her to leave the damned emails for the night. A traitorous thought wondered if The Oasis was still open, and if Jon was working. The memory of his hands on her sent a warm shiver through her body. The first flicker of arousal she’d felt in months.

Daenerys heaved a sigh, eyeing the ruby ring on her left hand. Daario Naharis, a wealthy businessman from Tyrosh, was a partner of Viserys’s. His roguish charm and easy humor was disarming and welcome after those long, ugly years building their company back up from nothing. But now . . . now so many things were different.

Her smartphone chirped.

U r STILL @ the office???

“Three question marks, really?” she said under her breath. The pain in the back of her neck intensified.

Would tonight be like so many others of late, with Daario draped over the sofa, his dyed blue hair in disarray, sniping about this guest on their guest list, or the how haggard she looked, and she had a headache again tonight? The thought made her stomach churn with a familiar acid burn of anxiety. Sex was too godsdamned difficult. She could never unwind enough to enjoy herself. It stung Daario’s masculine pride that he couldn’t get her off with any regularity.

Finishing up. Another hour. C u at home, she tapped back. Let him chew on that for now. A quick computer search found The Oasis’s dinky website. OPEN UNTIL 11 PM. Missy would probably be home with Grey at this hour. But maybe Jon . . . The phone chirped over and over again scrolling increasingly irate messages from Daario. Daenerys tapped the lock screen and tucked her phone in her purse. Tonight she’d do something for herself for a change!

The upper floor of Rising Dragon was deserted, florescent lighting a muted, yellow-hued glow. The cool, humming silence held a strange quality, a yawning, almost malevolent emptiness. Daenerys hurried to the lift. The foyer rose to soaring ceilings, a cathedral of glass and polished ironwood and wrought iron. Mr. Strong manned the security desk. Her tension eased by increments. His broad bulk and warm voice always reassured her.

“Headed home for the night, Miss Targaryen?” he said with a white smile.

“Finally, yes. Thank you Belwas.”

“Shall I call your car?” he asked. Daenerys considered a moment, then shook her head.

“No thank you. I’ll take the El.”

A frown puckered Mr. Strong’s smooth brown skin.

“Be careful, Miss. Goodnight,” he said.

“I will. Say hello to your partner for me,” Daenerys threw him a reassuring smile over her shoulder as she clicked across the polished marble floor. The Oasis wasn’t far.

                                                         ~

 Jon scrubbed his wet hair with a towel. A deep ache pervaded his body, eased by the long hot shower. His building was older, trending toward shabby, but the hot water almost never ran out. Westerling, some West district bureaucrat, requested a complete reno of his King’s Landing brownstone. Today he’d helped Tormund with the fiddly detail work: custom crown molding, installing the cabinetry, paint, and a dozen other little things. His boss had been generous: he had the next two days off, which made for a surprise long weekend. Maybe he could book a train home to see Bran and Arya.

The white glow of his smartphone caught the corner of his eye. Without his glasses, the print was a soft myopic blur at this distance. Jon wiped steam from the fogged lenses and pulled them on. A text from Shae.

D. St. requesting a late appointment. Missy left for the night and Ros is with another client. Can you help?? So sorry Jon No other choice

Jon’s heart thudded hard against his ribs. Dany. He looked at the time stamp. Shae’d sent the message ten minutes ago. The Oasis was a five-minute walk from his apartment. Adrenaline zinged through his nerves and all the weariness of the day melted away. Dany. Close enough to touch, breathing in the scent of her . . . damn. Just the thought had him half-hard.

“Get your shit together, Jon,” he told himself sternly.          

I’ll b there in ten, he texted. The phone pinged a half second later:  THANK YOU!!!  

Five minutes later he was dressed in a black polo and jeans, wet hair pulled back in a floppy half bun on top of his head. He rapped on 302, hearing the sweet, mournful strains of the cello through the door. Sam’s broad good-natured face appeared in the sliver of door beyond the chain.

“Jon! Give us a moment, I’ll get the chain.”

The door slammed shut, with a tinkle of metallic fiddling. Sam reopened the door and Jon was swamped by warm golden light and the rich spicy scent of Pentoshi takeout. Jon’s stomach gave a liquid grumble. The sandwich and crisps that made up his lunch was too long ago.

“Who is it?” a female voice said behind Sam—his wife Gilly. Jon stomped down on a shoot of envy. Sam’s easy domestic bliss made his own life look wan and colorless by comparison. Gods, he dropped everything to go to the client he was mooning over. He chose not to dissect that train of thought further.

“It’s only Jon!” Sam shouted back.

“Jon? Oh give him my love! Little Sam, supper!”

“’Evening Gilly,” Jon said.

“’Evening, Jon. Do you want to come in for a cuppa--”

A higher voice interrupted with something indistinguishable, but apparently contrary, for Gilly’s voice rose in counterpoint: “You said ‘five more minutes’ twenty minutes ago, little lad! Come wash up for supper!” Sam’s smile was equal parts proud and apologetic.

“So sorry. Little Sam’s become quite the cellist. We’re hoping to get him into Dragonstone Academy next fall. You were saying?” Sam said. Jon grinned, feeling a reflection of Sam’s pride. Big Sam had been his best friend ever since he moved in, and Little Sam was smart kid. Sweet. Reminded him of Bran.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your supper, Sam. I got called in to work. I’ll just be gone about an hour. Check in on Ghost for me before you put Little Sam to bed?” Jon asked.

“Of course! Happy to!” Sam said with an easy grin, “truth be told, minding Ghost has gotten Little Sam off the train of demanding his own dog.”

“Thanks, Sam. Ghost’s happy to have the company,” Jon said, turning toward the stair, “He’s already been fed, so don’t mind his begging. I’ll be back soon.”

“’Evening, Jon!” Sam called after him.

The evening breeze was fresh with the briny scent of the sea, the sky overhead darkly overcast. A few people made their way down winding sidewalks, bicycles darted between lumbering buses. Heat radiated from the sidewalk, the buildings, clinging like a wet blanket. Jon loped across the street as the garish blue-hued streetlights clicked on. The grade steepened as he neared Visenya’s Hill. Jon tried to stifle the jolt of jittery energy. For the thousandth time, he wished for a cigarette. The sweet smoke curled in his lungs would give him a measure of calm. The bell chimed as he shoved open the door. Shae unfurled herself from the office chair.

“That was quick,” she said with smirk.

“I live seven blocks away,” Jon said with a defensive shrug. Shae’s dark eyes held his, and Jon squared to meet the challenge in them.

As the proprietor, Shae was a stickler for professionalism. When Ros crushed on Mr. Baelish, Shae had threatened her with firing if there was so much as a whiff of impropriety. At the end of the day, Ros had two kids to take care of, and that was that. If Jon remembered right, Baelish turned out to be a creep, perving on a redhead girl half his age. Locked up in Iron Island Penitentiary serving fifteen years.

Shae must have been satisfied in what she saw. Dismissed with a graceful jerk of her chin, her silken cap of black hair rippling around her face.  

“She’s in Room Two.”

Jon made his way down the hall, sucking in slow, deep breaths. Calm. Professional. He paused at the laundry closet, scrubbing his hands clean. Normally, he’d review his notes of the previous couple sessions. But Dany had etched herself into his mind in startling, vivid detail. Jon rapped gently on the door.

The room was dim and warm. Faint mournful strains of a cello filtered through the speaker. There she was, lying on the table, sheet tucked up to her chin. The crisp sheet fell over Dany’s body like a lover. Sweet secrets lurked in those rich shadows. Gods, still as beautiful as he remembered. Her blond hair was loose this time, a long silken spill. Mm, he never thought he had a thing for hair, but he wanted to thread his fingers through it, pet her head, bury his face in it and breathe in the smell of her. The room was so dark, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact shade, or even see the details of her face clearly, something he now passionately lamented.

Jon gulped, reaching for his usual detached calm. Jon tapped the table near her shoulder. Thin eyelids lined with long mascara-darkened lashes fluttered open. Her eyes must be a pale color, blue or green. They didn’t swallow the light like a darker shade would.

“Hey, Miss Dany. I’m Jon. I’ll be your masseur again today. Any changes since the last visit?” Good, his voice was steady, calm. Detached, Zen. Something clicked inside him with massage, a serene place of focus. It was a faint relief he could still reach that place. He had a good memory. With routine clients, he had their problems areas and preferences nailed.

“No,” she said, chewing on her lower lip. Smooth voice, faint upper crust Crown district accent. Lovely mouth. Full pink lips . . . oh fuck. The zen-like bubble wobbled. Blood was surging south.

“W—Would you like something similar to our last session?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” she said.

With scalp massage, he could indulge his wish with her hair, kneading all those tense spots and ogle the details of her face up close. If he started with her on her back, he could hopefully get his body back in line before she could sneak glances at him. Jon debated the pros and cons for an uncomfortably long time.

“Erm, ok. I’ll get started,” he said, settling on the stool. The angle was better for hard-on concealment. He urged her to move toward the edge of the table. Oh sweet Mother, from the corner of his eye, he saw the subtle jiggle of her breasts as she scooted. Already half-hard, his cock surged to full salute.

“Here ok?” she asked.

Jon sputtered out something hopefully coherent. Sweat dewed under his polo. Beet-faced and tongue-tied. Luckily massage didn’t call for chitchat, and the dim lighting was a godssend. Jon relaxed in the rhythm of his work, fingers gliding smoothly along her scalp. Seeking out tension and trigger points behind the ears, at the occiput.

He gobbled up little details of her face. The slope of her nose, lovely thick eyebrows, the cute curves of her ears. The lobes were pierced. Even through the murky dark, he wouldn’t forget her face now. Oh, that sweet little shudder when he pressed at her crown. Gods. Jon clenched his jaw, reaching for the lotion tube clipped to his belt. A blob in his palm, smoothed over his hands to warm it. A smooth glide up the back of her neck. Mm, he wanted to soak up that warm energy shimmering on her skin. Like moonlight on the water.

“Are you all right?” her voice startled him. Her bright gaze sucked him in, like a tractor beam on a sci-fi movie.

“Hmm?” Jon grunted.

“You’re scowling. Is everything ok?” she asked.

“Yes, just a headache. Don’t worry. It’s your job to relax,” Jon said, teasing. The lie slipped off his tongue easily. I’m trying not to think about how hard you make me. Yikes. He didn’t want to be a creep that used massage to feel up women. Despite his trepidation, his dick throbbed, insistent. Her answering smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. This time it was his heart that gave a sharp flip.

“Ok. Relax. Got it,” she said. A tremor of laughter shivered through him. He was in serious trouble.

Jon took a steadying breath. Zen. Calm. Unhurried, no wasted motion. The bubble closed around him as he worked his way down both sides of her neck, the weight of her skull relaxed and trusting in his hands. Sweeps along her jawline, a press of his thumb along her collarbone. The whisper of the sheet brushed his knuckles. Boundaries. Good.

He loosened the drape of the sheet and instructed her to roll over. A soft gust of her scent and warmth washed over him, sweat and floral soap and . . . yum. Musky woman smell. No mistaking it this time. Not good. Now he was thinking about her pussy. Sucking in breaths of that sexy smell, tasting her juice, licking and loving all her juicy pink girl parts. Jon’s mouth flooded with saliva. Gods, he was actually drooling. His cock throbbed. Fuck, had he ever been this hard? Nope. Enough of that. Fucking enough of this juvenile horndog bullshit. She was a fucking client and he was a fucking professional, damn it. Shut. That. Shit. Down.  

Wiping lotion from his hands on the hem of the sheet, Jon cradled the silky weight of her hair, draping it over the table edge. The ends brushed his wrists in a ticklish caress. A delicate sensation that went straight to his dick. Just her hair. Who knew? Jon poured more lotion, paying attention to the tension in her neck and shoulders, careful not to press too hard. Deeper tissue massage would be better therapeutically speaking, but she was sensitive. High-strung, nervy. Like a thoroughbred.

He steeled himself for the effleurage along either side of her spine. Last time it had been . . . memorable. Shifting to conceal his erection, Jon smoothed his hands down her back with light pressure. Slick with lotion, his hands glided down. So smooth. No moan this time, just a puff of exhaled breath. Jon bit back an absurd feeling of disappointment. Did he want to be erotically tortured by an unobtainable woman? How fucked up was that? His hands moved of their own will, performing the same motion again. A soft little whimper. He could picture her biting the plush softness of her lower lip with those white teeth to stifle the sound. Jon exhaled a frustrated breath.

Moving to one side, he sought his trance with fierce determination. After this session was over, he’d ask Shae to assign her to another masseur if Missy was unavailable. This shit wasn’t good for either of them. He’d probably end sucking on her toes or proposing if he had to sweat through this again. Freaking her out with his own kinky bullshit. He finished on her back and legs. He returned to sweep down each arm with even pressure of his forearm. A lot of tension lodged in her wrists. Working on a computer, or with pen and paper. Maybe she was an artist. Jon kneaded at the tendons in her wrists, relishing her quiet hum. He moved to the other side, and a gem’s glitter caught the light. On a very important finger.

“Fuck,” he whispered.          

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title Repentance summary No, not that sorry. pairing itasaku, tobisaku, hot messes

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv | Part v | Part vi | Part vii | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii | Part xviii | Part xix | Part xx | Part xxi | Part xxii | Part xxiii | Part xxiv | Part xxv | Part xxvi | Part xxvii | Part xxviii | Part xxix | Part xxx | Part xxxi | Part xxxii | Part xxxiii | Part xxxiv | Part xxxv | Part xxxvi | Part xxxvii| Part xxxviii | Part xxxix (here) | Part XL (end)

Sakura let out a sigh. Her face scrunching up before it relaxed. She rested her chin on her forearm as the masseuse kneaded the knots out of her shoulders and neck. 

Tobirama sat in the corner of the room. Every once in a while, his eyes lifted toward her. The blue light of the laptop bathed his throat and face. It made his dark circles darker, his cheekbones sharper. 

Sakura turned her head to the side to look at him. It took him a while. But when he felt her stare, he lifted his chin again. She winked at him. He smiled a little.

“Thankful?” he guessed.

“Let me buy this place from you,” she said instead. 

“Hell no,” Tobirama snorted. 

"I thought so. Well, I tried,” sighed Sakura, eyes drifting shut. 

The candles burning around the room filled it with the scent of lavender. By the time the massage was done, Sakura had nearly fallen asleep. But not quite. Because she could hear the sharp tap of Tobirama’s fingers over the keyboard. The creak of the masseuse’s feet on the floorboards. 

At the end of the hour, Sakura sat up. Rolling her shoulders a few times to test them. She twisted from side to side. And then she got to her feet to dress. Tobirama shut his laptop, rested his cheek on his fist. He waited until the masseuse gathered up the used towels and bowed before leaving the room. Only then did he speak again.

“I’m assuming you didn’t just come here for a massage,” he said. 

Sakura glanced over her shoulder at him as she clasped her bra. And then she turned to face him as she pulled her blouse on. 

“I actually did,” she replied. She took her time with each button, starting from the bottom. When she looked up, Tobirama’s eyes were narrowed. She smiled.

“And, I wanted to let you know that Uncle gave me the okay to kill Fai Tsai,” Sakura then added. 

Tobirama let out a sigh. Arms tapping against the armrest. He scratched his thumbnail against the tattoo on his chin. 

Sakura stepped into her black heels. The bright red bottoms touching against the floor. She took slow steps toward him. Her shadow fell across him as she leaned forward, hand resting on his shoulder. 

“So cough him up, brother,” she whispered.

Tobirama stared up at her. He let out a sigh. His expression made her pause. She slid into his lap, her hands settling against his cheeks. The faint stubble scratching against her palms. 

“This won’t be good for any of us, you know,” he warned her. 

When their eyes met, Sakura smiled. And it wasn’t filled with any sarcasm or cruelty. Tobirama placed his hand on the back of her head. Twisting into her hair. She let him kiss her. 

“I know.”

Sakura remembered the night Sifu Might died. The rain bouncing off the asphalt like millions of little marbles. The stink of tobacco clinging to her fingertips and her jacket as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. She caught herself in the doorway before she stepped into the training hall. Sifu always nagged her about how bad smoking was for her. She had stopped trying to explain that it really wasn’t her. That Orochimaru just insisted on her holding onto his cigarette whenever he needed to free up his hands. 

Sakura pushed the door open with her shoulder, squinting against the light. She stood in the entrance, wiping her face dry with her sleeve. 

“Hey! I’ve been calling you! Thought you weren’t coming tonight!” Rock called out to her from across the room. He grunted as he caught the punching bag that swung into him. And then flashed a grin at her.

“Sorry. My phone’s broken,” she replied. It had fallen into an industrial meat grinder along with the corpse she had been disposing of the night before. 

Rock said something to one of the men standing against the wall. They traded places so that Rock could stop holding the punching bag. He jogged over, as light on his feet as ever. There was always a bounce in his step, a smile on his face. 

“If Sifu around?” asked Sakura. She glanced around. Couldn’t see his ripped sleeves or hear his booming voice. Rock shook his head.

“No. Maybe he slipped out to the convenience store or something?” Rock wondered. Sakura nodded. She began shrugging off her coat when something strange blurred past the window. She heard an odd noise from outside. Something louder than the rain that didn’t belong there. 

She and Rock walked to the window. She pushed it open to peek out into the rain. Rock leaned out over her to look too. Together they looked around before they examined the streets below. And by the yellow light of the streetlights, they could see a shape sprawled on the concrete. The bright green shirt and matching pants blaring like a traffic light.

“Holy shit!” Rock exclaimed. 

People stopped in the middle of their sparring and training. They ran over, also sticking their heads outside. 

“Is that Sifu?!”

“Someone call an ambulance!”

“That’s blood!”

“Someone call!”

“Where did he come from?” 

Sakura was frozen in place. She stared at the way both Guy’s legs splayed in the wrong direction. His head twisted around, neck broken as he hit the ground. 

A sick feeling bubbled up in her gut. 

She shoved past Rock and the others, back inside. Ignoring the way Rock called her name. Running as fast as she could towards the stairs that led up to the roof. 

The door to the roof flew open. It smashed against the wall. Slamming shut behind her. 

There was only one person standing up on the roof. And Sakura didn’t know who she had expected, but it certainly hadn’t been Kabuto. He stood close to the edge, wringing his hands as he stared down at the body. 

At the loud noise, he started and turned toward her. His eyes darted toward the door behind her. And he began taking slow steps to the side, slowly curving his way toward the door. His hands held up in front of him.

“...Lan yeung... it was you?” she spat.

“Okay, listen to me, Jing-Mei. This isn’t what is looks like,” he said.

The very sound of his voice made her tremble with rage. 

“I’m going to tear you apart,” she snarled. And he could barely hear her over the rain. He tripped over a pipe on his way to the door. He fell hard onto his side. Elbow banging against the floor. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose in time to see Sakura stalking over to him. 

Kabuto scrambled away on his hands and feet. 

“Jing-Mei! I swear! It was an accident!” he sputtered. 

She advanced, splashing through the puddles that had gathered on the rooftop. 

“We were arguing and I got angry! I didn’t mean to push him that hard! I just-”

“Diu lei lo mo!” she cursed.

Sakura lunged. Her fist connected with his jaw. And as he reeled from the impact, she grabbed the collar of his jacket. She began hammering her fist into his face over and over again. Pain erupted across her knuckles as her skin split. Her blood mingling with his. Shards of glass digging into her skin as his glasses shattered. 

She screamed as she continued to pummel him. Tears spilling down her cheeks as she hit him over and over. Until her arms ached, until she could barely see past her own tears. And she could hear Kabuto sobbing for mercy over and over again. 

“Jing-Mei! Please!” he hiccuped. One of his eyes squinted shut against the blood streaming from his forehead. It looked like she had broken his nose from the way both his nostrils gushed blood too. He keened in pain, one of his hands reaching for her shirt. 

Fists still dripping blood, Sakura released Kabuto’s jacket. His head smacked against the rooftop. Eyes unfocused. He coughed, wheezing as tried to crawl away from her. And she let him wriggle out from under her. Her arms hung at her sides as she watched him. The pain spreading through her shredded knuckles. 

She got to her feet, exhausted. Kabuto lay curled up on his side in the rain. Sobbing to himself, both his hands clutched over his head. The rage welled up hot in her again. She kicked him hard in the side. Relishing the scream of pain that erupted from his mouth before he dissolved back into sobs. She said nothing else to Kabuto as she headed down the stairwell. 

Back into the training hall. Some of the students stood inside, huddled close and speaking in low voices. Occasionally, one of them peeked out the window. Like they expected Guy to suddenly stand up and walk back inside, waving both his hands.

Lee started when he saw her dripping water and blood all over the polished floors. He cradled his phone against his shoulder as he ran to meet her. 

“Jing-Mei, what-”

“I need your keys,” she interrupted him. Her voice came out a little harsher than she had intended. Some heads swiveled toward her. But they quickly looked away. Even though no one ever brought it up, everyone knew who she was. Knew the rumors of who she worked for. Knew better than to stare.

Rock searched her face. 

“He wouldn’t want you to do this,” Rock warned her, his voice low. But as he spoke, he fished into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Sakura snatched them out of the air when he tossed them over. 

“I don’t care,” she snapped before she headed out into the rain. Trying not to see Guy’s body sprawled out on the pavement. His blood seeping into the sewers. Arms and legs bent at all the wrong angles. His eyes as blank as soulless as those of a fish. 

She drove Rock’s car to where she knew Orochimaru would be. A seedy little nightclub tucked away in Central. Down a winding alley, tucked underneath a strip joint. The smoke and blinking lights made her head throb as she slipped into the club. She weaved through the dancers who gyrated to the beat. 

And in the very back, past the VIP section, into the office. 

Sakura burst in without knocking. Rainwater dripping down her face. Blood still smearing across her upper lip and staining the collar of her shirt. Panting against the exhaustion and pain that had started to seep into her nerves.

Orochimaru was in the middle of a meeting. His jacket draped over the back of his chair. Dressed in his tailored white shirt and suspenders. All heads turned to her as she doors banged open. Some drew guns on reflex. But when they recognized her, they lowered their firearms. A couple called her name, asked what was wrong. One even rose and took a few steps toward her. It was Dirty Sam. Too many buttons of his shirt opened to show off the tattoo of a snake coiled around a heart in the middle of his chest. 

But Sakura ignored them all. Knocked Sam’s hand aside as she crossed the room. Orochimaru was sitting on the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest. And when she crossed the room, her hands reaching, he opened up his arms. Let her grasp his forearms as a soundless sob rose up her throat. 

Orochimaru measured her expression. He then eyed the men over her shoulder. He didn’t need to say anything else when he jerked his chin. They got to their feet and made a swift exit. 

Sakura felt something inside her clench up as tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“Orochimaru,” she whispered. Without honorifics. Without any of the titles. 

He didn’t chastise her.

“Sifu Might is dead.” 

“...Oh,” Orochimaru replied. And then he slipped out of her grasp. He examined her hands. At where the skin had scraped away from where her knuckles had met Kabuto’s face again and again. His hands were warm as he took her face. 

And then she added: “It was Fai Tsai. He killed him.”

“On purpose?” asked Orochimaru. 

Sakura’s eyes hardened. “It doesn’t matter.”

Orochimaru smirked at that. And then he clicked his tongue when he saw that she had broken several of her nails. 

“He pushed him off the roof. I mean... what the fuck?” she croaked. 

“Did the police get him?” Orochimaru questioned, ever the pragmatist. She had always hated that cold logic in his tone. But not tonight. 

Sakura shook her head. “I don’t know."

Orochimaru sighed, looking up toward the ceiling. “Kabuto’s singular talent is crawling into hiding like a little rat. He’ll be gone by the time cops get there,” he remarked. And then his gaze fell back onto Sakura. At the way her shoulders were shaking. 

Tears welled up in her eyes. Dripping down her cheeks where they melted into the rainwater. 

“I hate him. I want to kill him,” she whispered. 

“Hate him or not, he’s still a Red Pole, Jing-Mei. Or have you forgotten?” Orochimaru reminded her, holding her hands between his. She yanked her hands free, clenching them into fists at her sides.

“I don’t care! I hate him!” Sakura insisted. And then she heard how childish she sounded and fell quiet again. Her forehead fell against his collarbone as he pulled her close. Orochimaru didn’t seem to mind that she was wetting his clothes. Or that her diluted blood dripped all over his pants. Staining the white fabric pink in strange patches as she gripped his shirt.

“You’re very upset right now. It’s best not to make any rash decisions,” Orochimaru warned her as he began stroking her hair. The collar of his shirt smelled a little like incense. 

“So you’re taking Fai Tsai’s side,” Sakura stated. Her voice suddenly flat and quite composed. 

His hand paused.

“I never said that,” he corrected her. 

Sakura drew back a little at that. Her eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I can’t stand to see my cute subordinate so upset,” he told her. He reached up to wipe her eyes with his thumbs. And then he stared directly at her. A smile curling at his mouth. 

“So what do you want to do?” Orochimaru inquired. Like he was asking her what she wanted to eat for dinner. He took her hands in his again. Golden eyes searching her face. 

And like so much of what Orochimaru said and did, this was confusing. She had the sense that this wasn’t a normal conversation. That he really was asking what she wanted. So she frowned when she met his gaze again. 

“But you like Kabuto. You support him,” Sakura slowly said. Orochimaru nodded. 

“I think he’s funny. So, yes, I do. But I’m going to tell you a secret about this world, Jing-Mei.”

And Orochimaru leaned in closer. His smile was terrifying. It turned her blood to ice. But she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in closer. Until her forehead almost touched his. 

“There is no neutrality in this world. By not taking action, that is your action. If you want to survive in this life- our life- you need to always choose a side,” Orochimaru whispered. 

Sakura felt her lower lip tremble. She bit down on it, nodding. And then Orochimaru’s thumbs stroked over the backs of her hands. 

“And right now, I’m choosing you,” Orochimaru added. She averted her gaze. Nodding as the tears burned hot in the corners of her eyes. Threatening to spill over one more time.

“So what do you want to do?” he asked her again. 

“I want him to die like the little shit-eating rat he is. But first I want him to suffer,” Sakura whispered. 

Orochimaru beamed. He kissed her forehead.

“Wonderful. Don’t let go of that feeling.” 

Sakura found Kabuto hiding out on an old oil tanker sitting in Kowloon Bay. The guard at the door let her pass without a word. Inside was a makeshift gambling den. Folding tables set up around the room. Chairs clustered around them. 

Red-rimmed eyes darted to her when the door opened and shut. 

She stood out like a sore thumb among the men who stank of tobacco and whiskey in her cobalt jumpsuit. The neckline plunged in a thin strip down to her belt, revealing just a sliver of her chest and stomach. Her wine-colored lips smiled when she found Kabuto hunkered down in a corner, cards fanned out in his hand. Smoke twisted out of her mouth as she exhaled. 

Sakura said nothing. But she nodded toward Kabuto. Sai and Tenten stepped out from behind her. They advanced on Kabuto. Tenten shoved the chips and cards off the table. The plastic pieces plinking against ground. Sai placed his hand on the back of Kabuto’s chair. 

The room fell silent. 

The tap of Sakura’s heels rang out. As she took one step. Then the next. The swish of her flowing sleeves whispering from her sides. 

And then Sakura stopped just in front of Kabuto. She tucked her thumbs into her pockets. Tilted her head to one side. 

“It’s been a while, brother,” she greeted him. 

Kabuto didn’t try to run. His face was haggard. Eyes completely bloodshot. The band of his gold watch slid around his bony wrist. 

“...Why are you doing this, Jing-Mei?” Kabuto asked. He didn’t sound angry or even desperate. And when he looked up, he looked her right in the eyes. She plucked the cigarette out of her mouth. Let it rest between her fingers. She watched his expression shift. And maybe he realized before she even opened her mouth to respond.

“You know why, Kabuto.”

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv | Part v | Part vi | Part vii | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii | Part xviii | Part xix | Part xx | Part xxi | Part xxii | Part xxiii | Part xxiv | Part xxv | Part xxvi | Part xxvii | Part xxviii | Part xxix | Part xxx | Part xxxi | Part xxxii | Part xxxiii | Part xxxiv | Part xxxv | Part xxxvi | Part xxxvii| Part xxxviii | Part xxxix (here) | Part XL  (end)

[walkamongyou]

Workie #1

So today I decided to spend a day in a city where I don’t have any contacts at all, Northampton as a workie on his lunch break.

 My workie’s name is Jaymes “Jimbo” Hogg. I wanted him to have a conventional name with a none-conventional, slightly illiterate spelling, and a common, unattractive surname; (I’m toying with the idea that his nickname on the site is ‘Pigshit’; a Hogg pun and because he’s not the smartest). Jimbo is a simple, stereotypical lad; he loves football, the pub and fried food. He’s employed as an unskilled labourer; so spends his days moving heavy things around, fetching tea for the other lads, basically doing a job any idiot could do.

I put together an outfit to wear as him that I found really hot. The trainers and trousers I nicked from someone who was throwing them out. The shoes are fllthy and battered and smell strongly of sweat; the trousers are from Cherokee at Tesco, a cheap supermarket brand, have had Velcro attached and are absolutely unfashionable, totally practical. The polo is a Royal Mail one, and the hi viz vest was bought on eBay. It’s covered in motor oil and smells strongly of that. The underpants and socks I wore were scavenged; some really well worn Superman y-fronts and Poundland sports socks. What’s important for my kink was to make decisions as ‘Jimbo’ no matter my instincts told me to do. Jimbo naturally loves a lot of things I hate, but I had to commit to those to really inhabit him and with that behaviour came a lot of feelings of humiliation and disgust.

I took my workie clothes in a backpack, and did my prep by going to the gym to make sure I was really sweaty. For breakfast I had a cheese and onion crisp sandwich with ketchup (two things I hate; so naturally, I wanted these to be Jimbo’s favourites) and drank a can of Special Brew. I was already belching and my mouth felt really foul. I sprayed on Lynx Africa (a cheap body spray I associate with chavvy teenagers) instead of showering, then headed out to a shopping centre on the rougher side of town and got changed in the public toilet.

I waited in the cubicle for a little while, checking myself in the mirror, then decided to bite the bullet. I went over to the sinks and was seen by a fashionable Indian guy; he didn’t even give me a second glance, which relaxed me a lot. I began by just walking around. A lot of people in the shopping centre appeared to be of low social class, and I found it exciting to feel like I was indistinguishable from them. I let myself get into more unconfident posture, head leading, eyes low. I made sure I only visited shops that I thought would interest Jimbo. I went to Poundland and bought some chewing gum, popped four in my mouth, then had a look in Sports Direct and a Protein shop, building my confidence.

I felt like I was being watched a lot more by security than I would be usually; but mainly noticed that ironically less people seemed to look at me now I was in my hi-vis; maybe they felt I wasn’t worth their time. On the streets I found a couple of Big Issue sellers actively didn’t ask me for money when I passed; they assumed I was on minimum wage, maybe, and this made me hard. The idea of people seeing me in my vest and straight away assuming I was of a low level of income and education was really hot.

The first thing I wanted to get was a hi-vis jacket as the weather was bad. I walked around for a bit and stumbled across a motor repair shop that had a good selection. I walked in out of the rain and said ‘alright’ to the shop worker, who barely even clocked me. With the unconfident posture I found myself speaking in a lower, gruffer voice, and going back to my natural Northern accent. I went over and looked at the Dickies jackets, settling on an orange one to clash with the yellow vest I had on. I had to go over to the shop assistant as he did some work to ask if they had a small. He was definitely younger than me and was actually quite rude, saying a medium would be fine and that ordering in a small would take weeks. But as Jimbo isn’t assertive or smart, he agreed with the young man in a shirt and tie, bought the medium with cash, then put it straight on and left. I even shook his hand on the way out.

By then I was pretty hungry, so I decided to get some grub. I went to a Wimpy upstairs in the cheap shopping centre, a really greasy British burger chain, and decided to order something unhealthy and basically the opposite of what I fancied, what Jimbo needed for a hard day’s graft. When I arrived at the restaurant, I felt much more passive than I usually would, and waited til the guy working there told me to sit down in a seat right in front of the window that I didn’t want. I sat there and waited, looking at the menu. When the waiter eventually came over to me I ordered a double Wimpy cheese burger, twelve onion rings, a side of baked beans and a pint of coke.  

When it arrived, the first thing I did was remove the lettuce and tomato from the burger (usually my favourite part of a meal is the salad, but Jimbo doesn’t like poncey vegetables). I drenched it in salt and pepper, put a huge blob of ketchup on the side, put my gum on the other side of the plate and tucked in.

I really concentrated on going against any table manners I had engrained in me; leaning elbows on the table, slurping my drink, chewing with my mouth open and smacking my lips. I also made sure everything I ate was absolutely covered in ketchup, licked my fingers instead of using a tissue and didn’t wipe my mouth til the very end of the meal with the corner of my hi-viz vest. It felt really messy and it was actually an effort as my body isn’t used to lots of greasy food; I felt extremely unpleasant and found myself burping a lot.

 As I ate I read the sport section of the Daily Sport, a cheap tabloid, and played a video of Barce-Madrid on my phone. I have zero football knowledge, but I want my workie persona to be as clichéd and unimaginative as possible; he’s probably going to be a Man United fan. When I finished, I forced myself to wipe the plate clean of any ketchup using my fingers. I had to concentrate at points so as not to gag and found myself inadvertently belching really loudly. I paid in cash, put the gum back in my mouth off the plate, then decided I still had time for a quick pint. I’d spotted a pub earlier that I’d never normally dream of going near, covered in Union Jack flags on the outside, really rough, with lots of unwelcoming guys in leather jackets outside smoking. Nobody batted an eyelid as I went in, and I went up to the bar and ordered a Guinness and two bags of cheese and onion crisps. The clientele in the bar were mainly old, smelly men; daytime alcoholics, and a few workies, some in groups and some alone like me.

I was already feeling pretty bloated, but I went and sat down, went back to reading the sports news, and forced down the pint and the two full bags of crisps (Jimbo’s favourite). By now from all the onion my breath was feeling pretty heavy and disgusting, I forced myself to stay for an extra half an hour until my lunch break would be over, again watching footie videos.

After that, I (Jimbo) headed back up to the main shopping centre to be more exposed. By now it was really busy but again nobody seemed to pay any undue attention to me. I really liked walking past guys in suits and imagining what they might think of me, an uneducated minimum wager totally unworthy of their attention.  When I got up to the toilet it was heavily attended and there was a queue, so I didn’t feel comfortable changing back in there; but at this point I was so horny I had to crack one out in the cubicle that still stank of the load from the guy before me. It was intense, I wiped myself off and headed back through town to the original toilet I’d changed in and got back into my normal civilian clothes.

I still stink of Lynx Body Spray, my stomach feels bloated and my breath is definitely terrible, but I had an intense, exciting day out. I’ve already spotted a Wetherspoons outside of town that I’d like to go to as Jimbo on my second outing, lots of men drinking in the window and I might have the opportunity to make some mates.

Future plans include:

1)    Messing with my hair (it’s naturally curly) to get a working class perm that a lot of guys up here seem to have

2)    Buying some cigarettes. I’m not going to smoke any, because I’ve never had one and don’t want to start, but I’d like to have them on me, buy them in my hi-vis and use them to get that smoker’s smell on all my work clothes.

3)     Go shopping for more work wear

4)     Go for a proper greasy spoon workie breakfast

5)    Get a litter picker and a bin bag and do some low status cleaning work between meals

[cyclecruza]

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