#deeply annoying. anyways now i have no excuse to not continue cleaning

[ukulelegodparent]

Kicking, screaming and crying bc I need to do tasks

[literaila]

always, kitchen floor

loki x gn! reader 

summary/request: reader is tony’s sibing, they’ve had a fight with him. loki just happens to be there... and again, a while later. 

content warning: alcohol, fighting, sibling things, murder. 

*

so you weren’t expecting the crash.

so you weren’t exactly the picture of grace on the floor.

so you weren’t supposed to be in here.

it’s not like he knew that. but what he did know was that as soon as he bashed into the room, you were falling towards the floor.

the small chuckle you could hear from behind the cabinet did not soothe any anger you were feeling. it was just digging itself a deeper hole in your chest, just making itself a home while whoever had scared you laughed along. it might’ve made you angrier.

“it’s alright,” an unrecognizable voice said, low and sour. someone was moving around. you didn’t even attempt to get up off the floor. you didn't care. 

“i’ve been told i have that effect,”

an audible sigh from you made the movement stop.

you closed your eyes, rapped your head against the floor softly. this was only one of the many things you couldn't deal with right now. a human interaction, a conversation. an effort. maybe you’d drunk a bit too much, maybe this was a dream.

you really didn’t want to get up. you were hoping for a hallucination. anything non-real.

“do i know you?” you croak out instead of crying. at least, if you’re going to die, you’ll get to know who killed you. at least, if you have to do this now, you can call the bastard by their name. 

“probably,” the voice sings out. perfect.

probably.

you stop your head, squeeze your eyes until they sting. you’re not sure why you’re not supposed to be in here again, but maybe it has something to do with this.

meeting perfect strangers you probably know.

“do you have a name?” you croak— again —your patience gone from every trace of your body. your effort extinguished from the fire that is building in your chest. the fire that's been there a while. 

“the god of mischief.”

you sit up. only a little. just enough to lean your head towards the voice.

it’s not like you were expecting that response.

“excuse me?” you say in your half-deflated, half surprised voice. your neck is straining from the glance you’re trying to get at the voice, but you keep attempting to lift your head

the footsteps start again, and it’s only a moment before the person comes into view.

before you see them, you hear the bells ringing in your head. this isn’t your house, this isn’t their house. you don’t know this person, and you’re acting completely sane.

it’s honestly not that bad of a situation.

it only takes one more pinch of your ligaments for your eyes to meet their face.

for your brain to touch them with all the memories you have.

probably.

yeah, well, probably was right.

maybe you’re starstruck for a moment, maybe your eyes widen, and maybe you’re staring at this giant person in front of you for way too long.

it doesn’t matter, because in what seems like a second to you, you lay back down. close your eyes.

“i’ve seen you on the news,” you say, a nonchalant mention, a passing sentence.

you were wrong, then. an alien interaction. 

the god of mischief— actually, if the news anchor from earlier had anything to say about it —is standing right next to you. right next to your practically dead body, and you don’t move an inch.

you’re sure you can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t check. who cares, anyway? hes going to kill you soon. 

“have you?” he asks, an annoying disruption to your wallowing.

you grunt, don’t say anything else.

it’d be nice not to die in your own home. at least then no one will have to clean up any blood. they can sell the apartment again. it’d be nice to watch your brother's face as a ghost when he realizes. it’d be nice to get your revenge in the form of a bloodstain on the hardwood. it's a terrible thought that almost fills you with glee.

loki, who moves past you, opening cabinets and carrying around a ridiculous scepter (?) does not turn to look at you when he asks

“you’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

your snort is nothing more than a yes. is it really that obvious? i mean, yes, you look pretty bad, but that shouldn’t indicate to him that you’re in the wrong place.

he shouldn’t know that already.

“what makes you say that?”

loki puts down the bottle he’d been messing with, some expensive thing your brother would kill him for touching. not that you’re going to tell him that, you don't really mind. he turns and bangs his scepter against the ground, not completely on accident. “this countertop is engraved ‘tony stark’”

you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t notice.

“and, from what i’ve seen on the news” he teases the unfamiliar word around his lips “you aren’t him”

“ha,” you say, voice void of any emotion. it must really be that obvious, even to a god who has only been on earth for a few days and has never met you before. even to you, who’s been trying to catch up to tony for so long. “you’ve got me,” 

you grab the bottle you have next to you, the bottle you’ve been cradling all night in your hands like its some childhood blanket you dont want to let go of, and take a sip. its hard on the floor, and that fact is maybe the only thing that could actually convince you to sit up at this moment. 

so you do, and you look loki straight in the eyes while taking another sip. 

theres still half a bottle left, you dont really need to slow down. 

loki looks amused, looks so much less threatening than you would’ve thought after watching him get a group of well over a hundred people to kneel before him. so much less threatening without his words to back him up. or maybe, thats what makes him a villain. 

he looks kind of cute. 

“can i help you?” you say then, looking him in the eyes, bottle in hand. its your best impression of a salesperson, but he doesn't know that. hes just a god, after all, hes just a murder, definitely. 

“actually yes,” he moves towards you, scepter banging, his voice a slow river. “i was looking for someone-” 

“if its tony, you’re fresh out of luck, mr. mischief,” you sigh and stand up, pretending not to notice the substantial difference in heights between the two of you. “it would seem i’ve run him off,” you pause, take a sip, hold your finger up in a gesture for him to wait. “must’ve been my ceaseless charm.” 

loki doesnt say anything, just watches you with irritating eyes and waits for you to take another drink. you do, but not because of him. you’re thirsty, obviously. 

you hate that hes already predicting your movements, you hate that he looks so calm. you hate that if you werent still in your right mind you would probably tackle him without a moments notice. 

still, you watch him anyway. this isnt scary. nothing is scary right now, not even the prospect of death and the murderer in the room. not when you’ve just been left alone in this stupid building while tony runs off to do something else. 

not when your voice still hurts from screaming at him. 

“when will he be back?” loki asks, interrupting your thoughts and looking you up and down. any other day, you might’ve taken it as a compliment, might’ve smiled at him.

“never, if i had anything to say about it.” 

loki doesnt hesitate. “you seem awfully angry for such an angelic-looking person,” 

you snort, turn around to go searching through the cupboards again. “and you seem awfully murdery for a god,” 

“you’d be surprised,��� he moves forward, leans his scepter against a chair, and continues to watch you. something about this, something about him is easing that feeling in your chest. the annoyance is almost gone, you know, if it werent for the fact that hes still certainly going to kill you. 

you know that he’d brainwashed other people, maybe thats what was happening now. 

you grunt instead of answer and grab a glass. its strange, this need you feel to keep him from murdering you. loki watches with curious eyes as you poor some of your bottle in the glass, then offer it to him. 

in fact, his eyes almost bludge out of his head as soon as you lift it towards him. 

“you’re giving this to me?” 

you smirk instead of scoffing, as a peace offering. “is it really that obvious?” 

he doesnt acknowledge the snide but takes the glass with careful hands. maybe he thinks humans have murderous cups. maybe hes just very untrusting. it doesnt matter, it makes you smile anyway. 

you grab the bottle, now more than half gone, and take a sip as loki thinks deeply about this drink you’ve given him. at least he isnt asking you why you’re angry anymore. 

“is it good?” he asks while staring at the contents of the glass. 

“you could just try it, you know.” 

he quirks a brow. sets the glass down on the counter. takes a step back. “how do i know you havent poisoned it?” 

you set your bottle down, lean your hands on the counter, and lean closer to him in a challenge. “you, quite literally, just watched me pour it.” 

loki considers this, tilts his head, and then steps forward and takes the glass. you laugh when he sniffs at it, but watch with hopeful eyes as he finally takes a sip. 

then promptly gags. 

“humans are disgusting creatures,” he says while gagging, moving far away from the glass. 

“and thats why you’ve come to conquer us, right?” you’re still smirking, still sipping, and still wondering what the hell this god is doing here. 

“think of it as a favor,” hes wincing, opening his mouth in what looks like an effort to get the taste out of his mouth. but still, he doesnt threaten you, doesnt curse you out, doesnt accuse you of poisoning him again. but then, he looks up. “in return, you might tell me where stark is?” 

there. thats it. no threatening, no murdering, no accusation. but still, he just wants something. your brother, of course. 

whats different from usual? 

“i dont know,” you answer, smile gone, moving away. you make sure to take the bottle with you, wherever you turn to go. wherever you want to run away to. 

you dont know, you’re not sure. this place is so big, and all of it is a prison you’ll never actually leave. the curse of blood relations. 

loki though, stops you before you can even attempt to leave, before you can make your escape before you start sobbing to this god who isnt even here for you. 

really, you should be thankful, really, you shouldnt care this much. really, you should’ve left ten minutes ago. you’re not even supposed to be here. 

the thought fills you with dread. effort, effort and pain. 

“you dont know?” he asks, doubtful. as if he knows you, as if he can already tell you’re lying. you scoff, then scoff again. damn the god of mischief, and damn your brother. arrogance does not look good on anyone. 

you try to push past him, shaking your head with hurt eyes that arent really for him. you try to move forward, but hes so much bigger than you, and hes got the upper hand. he knows you wont try to murder him, no matter what he wants to do to everyone on earth. 

“you are related to him, are you not?” another question, another shot of fuel to the fire that you thought had burned out. to the flame inside of you that doesnt seem to leave. 

“i dont like that you know that,” you say it softly, much softer than you mean to, and without noticing take a step back. put up the walls, so to say. get away from this alien that knows more about you than you do him. guard yourself before you actually get hurt. 

dont give him yet another reason to yell at you. 

“its not hard to guess. you have...erm” he pauses, looking small, looking more nervous, looking anything but godly. “the same mannerisms. and you talk a bit like each other.” 

you frown. dammit. 

“also, the way you talk of him reminds me of my brother.” 

you look up then, look up and see this god, this alien, this murderer that you dont even know. is he drunk now? you wouldnt have thought him to be such a light-weight. 

“okay...” maybe you’re weirded out, or maybe you’re tired, but you try to move away from him anyway. this is effort, and you dont need it. 

“you really dont know?” loki says, before moving out of your way. he sighs, looks defeated now. you’re not lying, but something in you kind of wants you to be. just so he’ll leave you alone, of course. just for some peace. 

just so he stops frowning at the floor. god, you dont even know him. 

and you, you just dont understand. hes the villain, hes evil, so why is he looking so innocent? why arent you scared of him? why havent you run in terror yet?

maybe you’re about to ask something, but loki moves first. he steps back, or forward, and grabs the glass you gave him, again. takes another sip. he doesnt gag this time, doesnt change his expression at all. 

“i thought you hated it?” you ask, shocked by this small thing, hurt still, by his words. maybe by his defeated look. 

loki sighs, smirks, does something with his face you cant comprehend. “its better with disappointment.” 

now its your turn to sigh. you cant leave this alien alone in tony’s kitchen. that’d be rude, plus, curiosity is human. 

its not his fault, really, that he needs to murder your brother. 

you go back, back to the counter, back to the floor, back to loki with his sad eyes and your bottle. you just go back, sitting down on the floor, where you were when he came in, and waiting for him to join you. 

it doesn’t take long, you can feel his cool from the five feet of distance between the two of you. 

its a moment before you ask. “do you really need my brother? i can probably call him.” an olive branch, so to say. 

loki laughs, chortles, something. maybe you’re feeling the effects of the alcohol now. he doesnt speak for a moment, just looks around, observing the room once again. you look with him, wait for his answer, hope its “no”. 

“no, not really.” he pauses, sighs. “well, yes. but, you seem very opposed to seeing him, so i’m guessing talking isnt on the table?” 

“you’d be right,” you take another sip, give him a smile you dont really mean. 

you’re not even sure why you’re here now. this is surreal. this is stupid of you. its in the name. 

“is he really as bad as he seems?” loki asks, tracing something on the floor. maybe gods are similar to humans, because you think you’ve seen this somewhere else. 

you laugh, though, anyway, and forget everything. “not really. hes sort of a good person, he just.. doesnt come off well.” to say the least.  

never has. never liked you much in the first place, but you have memories of him gifting you toys when you were kids. you have laughs, smiles. you had a family, once upon a time. 

you dont tell loki that though, you have enough sense not to. 

“i wonder if my brother would say the same thing about me?” 

and something about the way he says it, something about his face, about his words on the news, all of it. all of it reminds you of where you are, reminds you of who you are, and who you’re trying so hard not to be. 

emotionally compromised, you’re sure. this is a stupid thing to be doing. 

“well, you were going to murder me.” its a joke, but its better than what you wanted to say. its better than the truth you want to tell to this stranger you’ve just met. this god who feels peaceful somehow, behind all the terror. 

loki scoffs, so you know its okay, so you know you havent said the wrong thing yet. you know you havent gone insane, not yet, not now. 

“i would never murder someone so beautiful,” 

and maybe its the alcohol, maybe its your fight with your brother, maybe its loki’s kind words, maybe its everything. maybe you really are insane. maybe you’re angry enough for this to seem okay. maybe you’re stronger than you think, than tony thinks, to be here. maybe it’ll turn out okay. 

it doesnt matter, because the next thing you say, changes lots of things. 

“i guess you’re not so bad.” 

* 

“i’m old enough-” 

“you’re a child.” 

“tony, you dont get to decide whats best for me! in case you forgot, you’re only my brother. not my dad, he already died-” 

“in case you forgot, i’m in charge. you’re the most irresponsible, reckless person, and you’re not leaving here until i say so.” 

“you dont just get to decide-” 

“you will stay here. try not to mess anything else up.” 

*

2 years later.

the hallway is cold while you speed through it. 

you’re not actually moving that fast, but everyone else insists on keeping the air conditioning on at all times, so even the slightest of movements invites the goosebumps to attack your arms. 

maybe you’ll complain some more about it today. its a trivial thing you care about. it matters. 

what else matters? well, theres a meeting-- one you’re late to, who cares? theres a meeting and you were supposed to be there over a half an hour ago. 

but, to be fair, you were sleeping, everyone knows you were sleeping-- what else do you do during the days when they dont invite you anywhere? so why, honestly, would they schedule a meeting for now? why would they expect you to be awake? 

why are you so goddamn late. 

these are the irritating thoughts that get you moving faster to the conference room. these are the things you can think about while you prepare your excuse out loud, and hope that no one is listening. 

and these are the thoughts that you’re thinking as you crash through the door. 

literally. 

“oops,” you mutter before looking up. this is normal for you, but, you could’ve picked a better time to fall on the floor, or any other time rather. you’re already in enough trouble as is, you dont need the shame on top of that. 

it takes a moment, but your eyes glance forward, cautious. they scan the windows, the chairs you can barely see, and hesitantly, they look at the people sitting in them. 

tony, of course, is the first one you see. head of the table as usual. arrogant and staring at you like only a brother can. 

and then, with one more tilt of your head, you see someone else. you see him, sitting next to thor, next to all of these people who are staring at you-- most of them with amusement, all of them with amusement. you see him. 

hes here. 

but, you... you thought? you cant even get up-- now. because now you’re on the floor, and now those memories are flooding back and now, oh god, your brother is coming over to you and you’re still on the floor. 

this is ridiculous, this is impossible, and this is so so embarrassing. 

“loki,” tony starts as he reaches a hand out to you, throwing you a glance that is completely rude and not necessary. “this is y/n, our clumsiest avenger.” you’re sure you can hear him mutter something after that, and judging by the snickers across the room, you’re guessing it wasnt good. none of this is good. 

as soon as you’re standing next to him, you elbow him. small enough no one could see. he deserves it, and honestly, you need it. at least, you can get this shock, these pricks of pain on your heart, out somehow. 

“sorry,” you say, maybe to everyone, maybe to yourself. but you’re still looking at him, and hes still looking at you. you cant stop staring, cant stop, wont stop. 

you wonder if hes thinking the same thing you are. if he remembers like you do. 

loki stands then, presence of a god, smile of a bastard, lips that you’re sure you recognize. is this the same person? the same god of mischief? is this him? really? 

“hi, loki, lovely to meet you.” 

and, hes definitely got to be kidding you. hes definetly got to be joking, right now. 

you dont reach out to grab his hand, you dont move away from tony, and you dont even try to hide the glare from your eyes. you dont even attempt to make an effort. 

really? i mean, really? hes going to just.. 

okay, fine. fine. breathe, smile, breathe, yell. 

theres nothing you want more than to scream at him, in so many ways, for so many reasons. 

“yes, sorry, i dont shake hands. just bodies.” 

theres a chorus of clearing throats across the room. you pretend not to notice. instead, you smile at loki, pretend to also not to notice the threatening eyes tony is trying to throw you. pretend, again and again, that you dont know who this is. 

loki’s hand slowly falls, and he glances toward his brother worriedly, but even that couldnt annoy you more than his face does at this moment. 

“i’ll let you decide how, my prince.” you snide, smile, hate. 

and then, you walk to your sit and promtly sit down. you dont bother to look up from where your glance has landed on the floor. 

and you remain like that for the rest of the meeting. its fine, you’ve already missed half of it anyway. 

who cares? 

* 

“no, but really, where’d you get that?” 

“its asgardian,” loki leans forward, teasing you with his raised eyebrows. 

“i want it. how much?” you lean forward as well, completely serious. alcohol be damned, his scepter will be yours. you’re not one to kid. 

“you cant bargain with me, tiny human. you have nothing i want.” 

“im sure i could think of a few things... you dont even know how to be a proper villain!” you exclaim with a smirk of your own “you’re gonna want money when you’re thrown in jail.” 

“ill just take it off of you when i’ve decided im bored and offed you. plus, i’m a prince. and a god. i dont need money for anything.” 

“ha! like i could ever bore you. you seem awfully interested in me, prince loki.” 

you’re both closer, faces inches apart. really, its just the alcohol talking, but still. 

you’re smiling pretty big. 

*

you’re not sure how you got here again. how you ended up on this floor, in this kitchen, with this bottle, with these thoughts. not sure, but still. you cant really bring yourself to care too much. 

at least your throat doesnt hurt this time. at least you’re older, smarter, and most definitely not drunk. at least its not exactly the same. 

it takes more than that, now. it takes more than anything to make you angry, now. it takes a lot more to push you over the edge. you’ve grown, at least, in that aspect. 

but, you’ve been thinking of this for two years, you’ve been watching and waiting with hopeful eyes and this... this just isnt it. this isnt the dream, this isnt anything like what you’ve wanted. 

you’re still brainwashed and you’re still angry. you’ve been on the edge of the cliff for years now. 

it doesnt take much to fall off. 

you dont even know why, why you’re here, why this is happening, and its making it worse. 

you havent even seen him in two years, so why do you care so much if he wants to pretend that you’ve never met? you havent so much as spoken of him in two years, so why does it matter now that hes here? why is it so significant that he doesnt seem to care? 

you’re a fool. immature, idiotic. you’ve known this, you know this. you could’ve mentioned it every time you sat with hopeful eyes when an alien showed up, when a certain god of a certain storm appeared and you thought that maybe this time, he might’ve taken someone with him. 

you could’ve told yourself this every time you thought of him, every day you’ve thought of that night. you’re ridiculous, hopeless, and drunk. 

you’re drunk now, and you were drunk then. so why does it matter this much?

you’re drunk.

and really, this time you really arent expecting it when he walks in. 

its different from last time, different because you were already on the floor. different because now you’re mad at him, and because now for some reason you cant even explain, you know that its him. you can feel him from across the room. 

and this time, you’ve drunk a lot more. you’ve downed more than half a bottle, and you’re angrier. you’re happier, but so mad.

still, his quiet “hello” into the kitchen leaves your flame sparking. the lights are on, so he knows someone is in here. he knows you’re in here.

you’re not going to answer though, why would you? 

he doesnt repeat it, but his footsteps are clear, not accompanied with the banging of a gold scepter this time, no horns in sight. this is different, but you know exactly whats happening. you know exactly how he looks, now. 

these two years have felt like nothing, these two years of making up with your brother, of dreams of a certain god’s lips, of hoping that one day he might appear again, all of it means nothing now. there are too many memories, and you have known you’re insane for years. 

the footsteps stop again, and you know this time, hes waititng for you to answer. 

you’re drunk. that explains this feeling. you’re drunk now, you were drunk then. loki should leave because you really dont have the energy for fake pleasantries. 

“can i help you?” you ask, and try and breathe while you wait. you’re different now. 

“actually yes,” he says and its quiet. 

it leaves your stomach aching. 

“i’m looking for someone,” 

* 

“no! never, i will never ever-” 

“technically, you just did,” 

“i hate you.” 

loki laughs, throws his head back in a motion that is unnecessarily attractive to you. “you dont even know me, darling.” 

“i can hear your thoughts, actually.” 

you’ve been leaning on him for maybe the past five minutes. you’ve been sharing this second bottle for the last half an hour. somehow, it tastes better when he’s put his lips on it. 

“is this a human trait i’m unaware of?” he sounds so serious you giggle. 

“no, just me. you picked the wrong person to drink with,” 

“and what am i thinking about now, then, since you can hear it?” 

you turn to him, you turn and theres something different in your eyes. 

“exactly what i’m thinking,” you whisper, staring down, staring at him in the same way hes staring at you. 

what are you thinking of? well, thats simple. 

*

“fresh out of luck, prince. theres no one here.” 

your voice is quiet, your head is pounding, but you cant have a hangover already. you cant be sick now, in this moment. 

its not pounding because of that, and you cant even pretend. 

its dark outstide, which you know, considering that its the middle of the night and you shouldnt even be awake. you shouldnt even be in here, considering tony banned you from stealing from his cabinets. considering, you’ve been here before. considering, all of it. 

arent you only supposed to make the same mistake once? 

“really?” he asks in an amused voice you recognize. hes closer now, you can feel it. you can hear it, the goosebumps are all over you. the buzzing started minutes ago. 

you lay down, on the floor, breathing in and out, feeling your stomach clench with every step he takes. this is ridiculous, you should be asleep, he should be on a different planet. 

“its late. go to bed, loki.” your voice is still quiet, but theres a warning in it. 

“i have a vague inkling that you arent strict with bedtime,” 

his voice is stupid, you’re stupid. why are you just sitting on the floor? 

“no, but i am strict about lying. in that, i hate it. go away.” 

maybe he wasnt expecting the sharpness in your voice, or for you to be laying on the floor. but his eyes when he stands over you, his eyes are almost how you remember them. 

* 

“did you brainwash me?” 

you’re breathless. you cant breathe. and you cant be drunk now, because you never want to forget this, you never want him to move away. 

he tastes alien, he tastes different than anything you’ve ever tasted before, and you just cant stop. 

you lean in again, let your mouth be filled with the sweet cold of his. hes cooling you down in only the best kind of way. 

“not yet,” he says, he says and lets his hands roam across your hips, across your skin in a completely tantalizing way. you cant be drunk now, because you’d never feel like this if you were. 

you’re both breathless. you both cant breathe. 

“are you going to?” 

another kiss, another moment, another taste. you want to smile, but that would require you to move away from him, and you just cant do that.

“i dont need to,” he says, he promises. he smiles, and its evil. evil in how much it stops your heart. this cant be happening. “you’ve been dreaming of this.” 

you’re sure, he knows something you dont. hes done something to you, but you cant complain. 

you really can’t stop.

*

“are you upset?” he asks. its nothing he would’ve said before, its not a question that would’ve crossed his mind two years ago. this isnt him. 

you dont know how you know that, but you do. you know. you’ve met him before, and you’ve known him since then. in case he forgot. 

you laugh at the thought, laugh and laugh. you’re drunk. “is that sympathy i detect in the god of mischief’s voice?” you ask, and laugh. 

maybe he’ll leave just because you’re laughing so much. wouldnt that be nice? wouldnt that break your heart again, off you for good, finally?  

“well, you’re definitely intoxicated.” its sarcastic, its serious, and it makes your blood boil. who is he to judge you? who is he to say anything to you? to be here now, and expect you to answer questions?

you sit up, stare at him for too long, and then your face is a scowl hotter than the sun. you hope hes terrified, but you feel so small. you hope hes terrified, but you know hes not. how could he be, when you’re sure you look like a mess, worse than last time? 

“you would know a lot about that, wouldnt you loki? considering you were so drunk that you’ve forgotten all about me?” its rhetorical, its cruel, and it makes his eyes falter the tiniest bit. 

this. this is what you dont need. this is an emotion you never want to feel again, because you’re tired of the anger. you’ve been living it all your life, and you’e tired of it. but maybe thats what drew loki to you, maybe thats what he likes best. maybe thats why hes still standing in front of you. 

maybe thats what makes him a bad guy. 

he doesnt answer, and so you continue. you continue and you should just stop speaking. “excuse me, your highness, but i really just want to be alone right now. so, if you wouldnt mind, i’ve already claimed the kitchen floor.” you laugh, gesture somewhere you dont know. “tony has plenty of other spaces for you to infiltrate.” 

you think maybe its enough. you think hes going to leave, you think you’ll get to be alone for the rest of the night, maybe drink enough to forget that you ever met him, but then hes still standing there. he doesnt move an inch. 

you dont know what hes still doing here. you can see the light reflecting on his face, you can see his blank eyes, you cant see anything in him that you want anymore. of course, except everything. 

“loki,” you groan and stand up. you set the bottle on the counter next to you, and cross your arms. waiting. for anything, for everything. 

“i didnt forget you, and i wasn’t drunk.” 

oh, really? you scoff, scoff and take another sip before answering. 

“well, thats lovely for you, but-” 

“i was trying to be considerate, in case you didnt want your brother to know we’d already met.” 

some part of you, one you left behind two years ago when you woke up all alone, some part of you thinks thats sweet. some part of you wants to smile just because he said it. some part of you. 

the other part, just wants to scream. 

“well, thanks loki, but ‘considerate’ would’ve been, maybe, not leaving me to wake up alone in the morning.” 

really, its time for bed now, so, promptly, you try to past him, you try and try and. 

you’re back in the past again. goddamn, him.

*

“we shouldnt be-” you gasp before you can finish. you gasp and loki laughs against your skin. “this is a kitchen-” 

“there are worse places,” he promises in an awfully smooth voice, a voice you think you’ve maybe been dreaming of for years, a voice you want to drink. you’re intoxicated, and its not the alcohol. 

“loki, i’m drunk, you’re drunk.” 

“i am not drunk,”

“okay, mr. god, but this is still a kitchen.” 

he smiles up at you, kisses your skn again. 

“shh,” he says. 

you gasp again. 

* 

“..i had to leave. i didnt think it would...” he stops, stares at you for a moment before looking down. hes standng in front of you, not letting you move, not letting you think. “i didnt think it would worry you. i’m terribly sorry,” 

it sounds sincere, but then again, so did his promises before. 

“okay, loki.” you relent, you sigh, you take a step back and smile at him. none of it is real. “cool, thats nice. i’ll be going to bed now-” 

“i’ve wanted to see you for two years,” 

your mouth drops open. your eyes buldge, and you almost want to smack him. this, this is really all grand. 

this is so unfair. this is a cruel reminder you never wanted. this is a nightmare, come true. 

“i’m drunk. i’m leaving,” 

but again, he stops you, he stops you and you dont know why. why he wont just let you go, why he sought you out tonight, why this matters, why you care. 

why you got so goddamn attached to him that night, why you’d felt like a new person when you woke up the next morning and he was gone. 

you take a breath in. you smile again, you push down the flames burning at your throat. “we can both forget it, if you’d prefer. i promise i wont tell anyone, and we can just move on.” 

the words, the words you’re trying to offer him as a method of peace, those words, they send loki away from you. they make his face shift, they make him move back. 

he looks angry now. he looks how you feel.

“you want to forget it?” he asks, even though you just said it, even though you’ve already answered that question. even though, he knows what you meant. 

you arent slurring your words. 

“i just want to...” you cant finish that sentence though, and instead you nod. its enough, it doesnt take effort and its nothing special. it’s the truth, so, he’ll have to accept it.

you’ll go to bed now, you’ll forget that you’ve wanted to talk to him, that you still want to kiss him now. you’ll forget, and so will he. 

it will be easy. nothing more than a piece of cake. 

* 

“i’m sorry,” he whispers later, later when you cant remember your name, when you’ve remembered that you still havent even told him. 

“for what?” 

he kisses your neck instead of answering. 

‘you’re beautiful,” he says, you cant breathe, and hes still speaking. “i didn’t tell you before,” he breathes in and you can feel it in your stomach, can feel that sweet swirling deep inside. “i’m sorry”

“don’t worry about it..”

its late now, too late. you dont want to go to sleep. you never want to fall asleep again, not when you’ve just.. 

not with him. 

the kitchen floor is awfully comfortable. your eyes are falling, faster than you want them to.

*

“just want to what?” hes not hearing the words, and no matter what you might’ve said, you cant read his mind. 

“loki,” its another warning, because hes moving closer, because you can feel him again, because you still remember how he tastes. because that buzzing, the buzzing you’ve felt for so long, its digging itself deeper into your skin. 

“i dont want to forget,” he saiys, and no matter how much you want to believe it, it just sounds like another empty promise. sounds like something you’ve already heard. 

its not enough, but its just want you want. what you want is just there.. 

“i was drunk that night, i was sick. i was...” 

angry is the word you’re thinking of, but his lips are the ones you can feel. but his smile is the one you want, but his eyes, but his face, but his skin. 

his lips, his face, his skin, his touch. its been in your mind since then. its been glued to your thoughts. its stuck, and you want to peel it off. 

you arent supposed to be here, you arent supposed to be in this room, you arent supposed to be drinking this liquor, and you arent supposed to kiss him. 

you’ve gone insane for sure now. you aren’t supposed to do this.

and so, you do. 

*

you’re on the floor when you wake up. your head is pounding, your eyes are glued shut, but somehow they’re open. 

you dont remember where you are, you dont remember why you’re here. 

but you do remember... loki. loki, murderer, god, thief. he was here, you’re in the kitchen. 

his eyes, his lips, his peace, his lips, his skin, oh god. 

he was here. 

you look, you look around, you feel the pain in your body, you feel the anger piling up, you feel the ache in your neck, you feel it all and you look around. 

hes gone. he is. 

your head is pounding and hes gone. you cant remember why. 

*

masterlist here. 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 21)

So this is another mobile post. Will put it under the cut when I get to my desktop.

He doesn't know how he hadn't noticed promptly; Lady Dimitrescu, though she is still much taller than he, is actually quite small. He wonders if the woman is aware silent in his embarrassment he strikes his forehead with the heel of his hand, stupid stupid Salvatore, of course the lady I knows! She is a smart woman and a change so big…? Small…? Profound, wouldn't go unnoticed. It is somewhat comforting if he were to be honest. Before she was such an intimidating presence to be around. So much so that he sought to avoid her if he could help it.

But the woman who sits before him, shifting in the chair with a look of mild disgust is infinitely more approachable.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Dimitrescu shakes her head and is hear sinks. He is loathsome, repulsive, repugnant! Of course she doesn't want anything that has been delivered by his grimy hands.

"You got any beer? I haven't had a good beer in a while." Ethan requests. "I could use one."

Salvatore nods eagerly. He hasn't had company in so long, much less company that is willing to let him be hospitable. Only Mother Miranda let's him be hospitable.

He plops a can into the man's hand. He visibly cringes when the slime runs down the side of his his palm. And for a second Salvatore thinks that he will put the drink inside. Instead he wipes the can clean and pops the cap.

"Are you sure that you don't want anything, Lady Dimitrescu?"

"To eat or drink, absolutely."

He thinks that he hears Ethan grumble, "you should eat, those vitamines are only supplements."

"But there is something else that I would like." She carries on as though she hadn't heard the man sitting next to her.

"How can I help?" He has asked the wrong question. He knows that he cannot help. He wonders why she is asking him rather than Donna or even Karl. Surely even Karl is a more desirable option.

"Winters and I are looking for his daughter. I imagine that Mother Miranda has given you a role to play? I am asking you to... reconsider your alliances."

"Betray Mother Miranda?" He squeaks. He could never! He doesn't understand how she could ask such a thing! To betray the only person who has seen his value.

"I-I couldn't possibly, Lady Dimitrescu! Mother Miranda has been good to me."

"By turning you into a gross and gushy fish...man...thing?" He chuckles to himself, "manthing." And then he clears his throat, reverting back to tealitibe seriousness, "I wouldn't call that good."

"I...well it's...nobody, mostly nobody, messes with me anymore."

"That's because you isolated yourself in a swamp." Lady Dimitrescu drums her claws...former claws upon the armrest.

Salvatore slinks back. "Mother Miranda sees my value." Even where he doesn't, she always has.

.oOo.

"She doesn't see your value, Moreau. She sees you vulnerabilities and she uses them." Just as she had used her. And how lovely it had been to believe those lies. "I see your value, Moreau." At least she hopes that she will in time. She thinks that even he can tell that she is telling pretty lies.

"I know how you look at me and my dwelling." He gestures about the place. "You want to use me."

"So then what does it matter? You're being used either way, what difference does it make who's using you?" She scoffs.

Ethan nudges her. "What she means to say is that we would really appreciate your help."

"I meant what I said, Winters!" She snaps.

Ethan inhales deeply, "I would value your help. And I wouldn't use you. You gave me a beer, we're friends now."

"Friends?" Moreau tests the word.

"You ever have a friend before?"

Moreau meekly shakes his head, "none at all, Winters."

"Well now you do and you can start by calling me Ethan."

Now Moreau looks far beyond anxious. The pathetic creature is all jittery and stuttering.

"B-but you won't like me. You'll find me repulsive eventually."

"I already do but friends look past that. I was able to look past Alcina's occasional blood baths. She smells like a corpse when she comes out of those and it's pretty awful."

Alcina clenches her teeth, cheeks coloring ever so slightly. "How dare you--"

"I look past a whole lot of that too." He jabs his thumb at the snarl on her face. "She's pretty cranky all the time but she isn't so bad once you get used to traveling with her."

"Blood and mucus are not the same. At least she's nice to look at."

Ethan smiles a lopsided awkward smile. "Yeah she's a beautiful lady. Her eyes are alluring, her face is charming, she has nice hair and a fantastic…"

"Winters, stay focused!" She demands sharply.

"Ass." He whispers to Moreau.

She shoves him off of the couch, "have some tact or sit yourself down next to Moreau, you loose lipped oaf."

Ethan rubs his own rear. "Well anyways, to show you that I am not repulsed by you I will gladly sit next to you until Alcina wants to be nice to me. She rolls her eyes as one cretin seats himself next to the other.

He does his best to keep the appalled expression off of his face even as the stench of death and fish assaults his nostrils. His eyes are watering and Alcina smirks. She must admit that the man is very good at feigning acceptance.

For a heartbeat she wonders if he is only pretending to accept her, wonders if he will stab her in the back as soon as he has his Rose back. She bites the inside of her cheek.

"So what do you say Moreau? Trade a heartless cultist for a real companion?"

"I'll consider." He twiddles his thumbs.

But she knows him, she knows that he won't want to venture beyond his comfort zone. And his comfort zone wears a bird mask.

"If you can stay the night, I will have the answer by morning."

.oOo.

It was exactly what he was hoping to avoid; staying here with the putridly smelling miasma of sea and decay. And on a makeshift hammock that is damp and slicked with what could either be mold or algae.

He doesn't want to rest which it is. He is rather content in his blissful ignorance. He can't deny that he is quite pissed that Alcina has taken the dry cot. He can't even get to sleep in a perfectly hammock and has no idea how Moreau can possibly sleep in what looks to be a large and repurposed fishing net.

He groans and makes his first attempt to scramble onto the hammock. By the fourth, he is ready to sleep on the floor.

He pretends not to hear her when Alcina slips into the room. A feat made harder by the very obvious cracking of the floorboards.

“Winters…” She looks off for a moment. “I’d like you to spend the night with me again.”

With only a sentence, his anger dissipates, "shit,I thought you'd never ask."

"After your," she coughs, "crass commentary, I wasn't going to. But I changed my mind."

"What made you do that?"

"This place is damp and chilly. You are warm."

It sounds like an excuse to him but he isn't one to question a mercy no matter how small.

This cot is even smaller than the one at House Bennivento. Ethan is certain that Alcina is plenty aware of this. She climbs onto it anyhow and gestures for him to join her.

"Shouldn't I get in first?"

She shakes her head, "lay down before I change my mind."

He crawls atop her and tries to make himself comfortable. It isn't particularly hard, Alcina is very pleasant and charmingly soft and kindly warm. He hesitates for a moment before resting his head upon her chest.

He feels her fingers weaving through his hair. "Comfortable?"

"Very." He confirms. He thinks that he is more comfy here than he would be in a bed of his own.

She sighs. The exhale is followed by a brief duration of silence. At last she fills it, “it has been a very long time since I’ve been in pleasant company. And longer still since that company has been a man.”

"We're there any women?" The question comes forward before he can curb it.

"Several of them have warmed my bed. Good girls, they were." She muses.

"What happened to them?"

"Well I used them for my wine, of course."

Ethan cringes and she chuckles as though she has only told a simple little joke. "I was thinking of doing the same to you but your blood was so stale." She continues to stroke his hair.

"Well that's reassuring." He grumbles.

"I suppose that it doesn't matter anymore."

This time it is he who is responsible for the silence. He as he tries to make sense of a woman who doesn't seem to, by her very nature, make any sense at all.

"Why?" He finally musters.

"Why what?"

"Why am I sharing a bed with you again?"

She furrows her brows as though he is the confusing one. As though it is he who has been sending all sorts of conflicting signals.

"It's just that, one minute I'm a stupid manthing and the next I'm a charming gentlemen." He continues. "Do you like or not?"

"You are indeed a stupid manthing and a gentleman. I wish that you would just pick one, preferably the latter of the two."

And she is dodging the more important question. "And if I decided to pick 'stupid manthing' what would you do them."

She makes a sound, perhaps something to indicate both amusement and annoyance at his audacity. "I would…" she trails off. "I suppose that it depends on the extent that your idiocy reaches."

He has to laugh at this, how can he not--it is her quaint prose and relief that she is even considering humoring dumbassery to any extent at all.

"Your antics can be endearing and entertaining sometimes." She confesses. "But they are also terribly annoying."

"So do you like me or not."

With no way to dance around it she falls back into her silence for a very long time before she mumbles, "I'm trying my hardest not to…"

"But you do?"

"I...yes. I think." This mumbling is even softer.

"Care to figure it out for sure?" He asks. Though there any enough room to contact his preferred test, he thinks that something simpler will suffice.

Her hair stroking comes to an abrupt but brief halt. "I suppose that I wouldn't mind."

"Good." He props himself up just enough to kiss the woman's forehead and then her lips, a gentle testing of the waters before he kisses her neck. And when she doesn't bat him away or shove him off of the bed he lays one on her collarbone and then her chest.

He is met with something between a hum and a purr, her fingers tap upon his back. "How was that?"

"It was well enough, Ethan." She replies. "Perhaps we can double check when we find more comfortable lodgings."

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt8 / On AO3

Meng Yao's future is dealt with.

To say that Lan Qiren was disappointed in his nephew for helping Nie Huaisang escape into Yunping City would have been an understatement. It was made quite clear to Lan Xichen that he would face punishment of his own for this misbehaviour. Real punishment, too, not just copying texts as had become standards for small infractions. Still, Lan Qiren listened to that tale of a corrupt merchant scamming people with fake manuals, which greatly irritated him, and thus forced sect leader Huang to care as well and deal with it immediately.

It was wrong to think maliciously of anyone without proof, and even more so if the person was an elder. Yet as they all walked toward the market Lan Xichen couldn’t shake the feeling that had he been alone when news of that crooked merchant reached him, Huang Quiling might not have cared enough to do anything about it. After all, he hadn’t asked Lan Xichen for any details about this business, and instead appeared intent on continuing his conversation with Jiang Fengmian about borders and trade.

Lives were on the line, Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao’s futures depended on this day, and nobody cared. 

They didn't care because they couldn't know, of course, but logic wasn't helping Lan Xichen's ever growing anxiety. He only calmed down when they all reached the place where the others were waiting, and found that everyone of any importance was still where he had left them. 

While Lan Xichen was gone, things had changed a little in the market. Most of the earlier crowd had dispersed, tired of waiting for more entertainment, and the market street was almost back to normal. Those few curious folks who remained were trying to inconspicuously listen in as Nie Huaisang chatted with, or rather at poor Meng Shi. The unfortunate woman looked deeply uncomfortable, but didn't dare openly disrespect the young master who had confirmed her son's potential for cultivation by walking away.

She couldn't leave yet, anyway, not until she'd gotten her money back for those fake cultivation manuals. From what Lan Xichen could see, Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao were taking care of that, the two of them counting money with that crooked merchant. Here and there Meng Yao would glance at Nie Huaisang, as if something he said attracted his attention, but each time Jiang Cheng brought his attention back to the task at hand.

When Lan Xichen and his elders came close enough to hear, the distress made sense: Nie Huaisang, after all this time, was still discussing the many failings of Jin Guangshan. Lan Xichen wished he were surprised, but there really was that much gossip going around about that man. Most people just didn't usually discuss all of it at once out of respect for a sect leader.

“And then, da-ge said that Jin zongzhu brought in dancers,” Nie Huaisang was saying to a rapt audience, insensitive to the discomfort of Meng Shi next to him. “Da-ge said it was getting embarrassing to watch when Jin Furen arrived, and she made such a scene because apparently her husband had promised to consult her about all the entertainments at the banquet but he brought the dancers without tell her. So then, she… oh, already?”

Nie Huaisang, so cheerful while telling his story, turned a little pale at the sight of Lan Qiren. He looked around for something to hide him from his teacher’s angry glare, and had to settle for slipping behind poor Meng Shi. Lan Xichen refrained from rolling his eyes, and directed his elders' attention where it was actually needed. 

“Here is the man,” Lan Xichen announced, motioning toward the merchant. “He has been selling fake cultivation manuals to people.”

“Fake talismans as well,” Jiang Cheng said, lifting a few before crumbling them in his hand. “And he has been doing this for a while. How long, did you say?”

“We started buying from him last year,” Meng Yao explained with a polite bow toward the older cultivators. “But he started coming to the market the year before that, and already offered the same wares. We assumed he had received permission to sell those items, since...”

Meng Yao trailed off, glancing toward sect leader Huang before bowing deeper as if in apology.

Strictly speaking, no sect could be expected to be aware of and to deal with every crook that operated in their territory, so Huang Quiling couldn't be blamed for that situation. At the same time, it would be considered shameful for any sect to have someone selling fakes in its own hometown of all places, and for so long. It spoke of unreliability on their part if people would rather go to a nobody on the market, or else it meant that they priced their services much too high for common people. It also meant they didn't care about commoners, who surely had to have complained about that merchant before. Either way, it wasn't a good look for Huang Quiling, and he would have to act properly to clean this stain on his reputation.

But instead of scolding the merchant or threatening him, Huang Quiling only had eyes for Meng Shi, who was glaring at him defiantly.

“So it's you again,” sect leader Huang muttered. “Meng Shi! Haven’t I told you to stop bothering cultivators?” he turned to the other two sect leaders and gave a small apologetic bow. “I’m sorry that your boys got caught up in this. Meng Shi is just a local whore who’s convinced herself that her bastard has what it takes to be a cultivator. Completely delusional, the boy will never amount to anything. You can't judge that merchant's wares just because the bastard of a whore didn't become an immortal from reading it. I'm unsure the boy can even read.”

Meng Shi, proud as a queen until then, went pale. Lan Xichen felt her shock and horror as if they were his own. He turned to glance at his uncle, worried he might side with Huang Quiling, but to his relief Lan Qiren instead appeared annoyed at the sect leader. It was probably only the coarse language that he disapproved of, and the public nature of this confrontation which he must feel stained all their reputations, yet Lan Xichen felt emboldened anyway.

“Huang zongzhu, have you tested Meng gongzi?” he asked. “We checked on him, and found he has potential.”

“What would mere boys know about these things?” Huang Quiling snapped at him. “Which one of you tested him?”

Lan Xichen hesitated, and glanced at the other boys. He hadn’t come anywhere near Meng Yao yet, and couldn’t lie about that. But if he said it was Nie Huaisang who had checked on Meng Yao, and after his horrible performance at the Night Hunt the day before, it wouldn’t be much of an endorsement. Lan Xichen himself only trusted Nie Huaisang’s assessment because he knew from that other future what sort of cultivation genius Meng Yao was.

“I’m the one who checked on him,” Jiang Cheng boldly lied. Or perhaps he really had checked, dubious as well of Nie Huaisang's assessment, because he continued: “For someone not born from gentry, his potential is not to be dismissed. It might be on par with Yunmeng Jiang's first disciple, if he were just taught properly.”

Huang Quiling, so disdainful a moment before, lost all of his confidence. He glanced at Jiang Fengmian whose face showed no particular expression, except perhaps mild curiosity now that Wei Wuxian had been mentioned. Lan Xichen wasn't sure what to make of that. He hadn’t often been near Jiang Fengmian except at the occasional discussion conference, and of course in the other future they had never gotten to work together as sect leaders. According to gossip, Jiang Fengmian was something of a pushover, who loved quiet and peace more than he cared about justice, but on occasion he could show strength of character if the mood hit him.

"What does his skill matter, with a mother like that?" Huang Quiling claimed, refusing to admit defeat. "No self respecting sect would knowingly take in the son of a whore. It'd be like teaching a pig to walk on two legs, dressing it in silk, and calling it human."

"People ought to be judged on their actions rather than their origins," Lan Xichen retorted, which caused sect leader Huang to glare at him with bulging eyes, his face dark with a rage so strong it robbed him of his words. Even without looking, Lan Xichen knew that his uncle too had to be shocked, that there would be hell to pay for this later. But then, if he was going to be punished, he might as well go all the way. "Just because you don't have the talent to teach someone,” he said, “don't assume a skilled teacher can't do it either."

Huang Quiling looked on the verge of having a Qi deviation, gaping and frothing at the mere boy who dared to insult him so openly. He wasn't the only one to stare, either. Nie Huaisang, the Jiangs, the Mengs, and above all Lan Qiren were looking at Lan Xichen as if he'd suddenly grown a second head.

A very rude second head, at that.

Lan Xichen just couldn't help it. Back in that awful future, the man he would have become had also been enraged and saddened at the unfairness of the world, particularly with regards to Meng Yao. If people hadn't judged him so harshly for something he had no control over, if instead they had taken notice of his skill, of his hard working personality, of his determination…

In that future, Lan Xichen had never dared to speak up, believing in the virtues of inaction and of leading by example, the way he'd been taught to behave. So far in this current life his attempts at being more active hadn't really worked so well, only ensuring that Nie Huaisang made a terrible friend in Su She and started hating Lan Xichen much earlier, but maybe this time, just maybe...

“Lan-xiansheng, your nephew is rather opinionated for a boy his age,” Huang Quiling complained. “I have heard a great deal how well behaved the young heir to Gusu Lan is, but it appears some reputations are undeserved.”

“My nephew will be dealt with,” Lan Qiren calmly replied, which dampened Lan Xichen's moment of rebellion more than anger could have. “And he will present excuses to you. Right now, Xichen.”

“But Lan gongzi's right!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, coming out from his hiding place being Meng Shi. Under Lan Qiren's glare he shivered, but didn't give up. “I mean, he's right at least to ask if Meng gongzi was tested,” he mumbled. “And he's right to say it's not fair if nobody will teach him just because of his family! I've read our histories, you know. I know people didn't want to teach some butcher any cultivation because it's unclean work, and now we're a big sect. Isn't it the same? And it's not just us, right?”

His eyes darted toward Jiang Fengmian, who smiled at the unsaid accusation.

The official history said that Yunmeng Jiang had been founded by a group of rogue cultivators. They had tired of wandering, and established themselves in a small port which soon thrived thanks to their presence and influence. As far as founding stories went, it was a very respectable one.

The less official story was that their founder had been the leader of a band of thieves who had picked up a trick or two and figured that cultivation paid better than robbery. Lan Xichen had never been interested enough in the subject to do any research, but he had a cousin with a taste for history who swore that annals from that period corroborated the second version more than the first. If so, it wasn't much better than being descended from a prostitute, though enough time had passed that it didn't matter so much anymore.

“I see my nephew won't be the only one who needs to be dealt with,” Lan Qiren remarked in an icy voice. Nie Huaisang, having used up all of his courage in standing up to his teacher, hid again behind Meng Shi, trying to make himself small.

“Boys must stand for something, it's what youth is for,” Jiang Fengmian replied with good humour, before gesturing toward Meng Yao. “Come here, boy. Let's see what all the fuss is about.”

“Jiang zongzhu, you're not serious!” Huang Quiling exploded. “That boy is just...”

“I'm only curious. If his proximity is intolerable, then perhaps you might help my son check those manuals to see if they are real or fake. Jiang Cheng, help Huang zongzhu while we deal with this side of the problem.”

Huang Quiling went pale from rage at being ordered around in that manner, but with Yunmeng Jiang the larger and more respectable sect, he still obeyed. He stomped toward the merchant's stall in a manner Lan Xichen found lacking in the dignity to be expected of a sect leader. Meng Yao, for his part, hesitated to obey Jiang Fengmian's order until Jiang Cheng pushed him forward. Huang Quiling radiated hatred when Meng Yao passed by him on his way to the other sect leaders. He looked as if he might have tried something, or said some other insults, but Meng Yao wisely made sure to leave as much space as possible between the two of them, which wasn't easy in a crowded market street.

“Come closer, child,” Jiang Fengmian requested when Meng Yao hesitantly stopped a few steps away from him. “I am going to put my hand on you to check your meridians. It might feel a little odd... but if my son tested you, you know that already, hm?”

Meng Yao nervously nodded glancing back toward his mother who smiled encouragingly. He only shivered a little when Jiang Fengmian put one hand over his heart, and even less so when Lan Qiren did the same after being invited to do so by Jiang Fengmian.

“I suppose the children have a point,” Lan Qiren conceded, his expression turning somewhat warmer. “How old are you, boy?”

“I'm sixteen, Lan-xiansheng.”

Instantly, Lan Qiren's expression darkened again.

“Too old then. If you'd been two or three years younger... and even then it would have been difficult. It's best to start young.”

Meng Yao's shoulders slumped down at the news, while all of Lan Xichen's hopes were crushed. He knew that his sect preferred younger disciples, though he suspected it had less to do with actual cultivation, and more with the fact that children took to discipline better than teenagers. Still, he had hoped that Meng Yao, with his potential... but Lan Qiren's word was final in these matters, with only their sect leader having a right to contradict him. Meng Yao couldn't be brought into Gusu Lan.

Which meant another option would have to be considered.

With dread curling in his guts and a choking sensation tightening his throat, Lan Xichen looked at Nie Huaisang still half hidden behind Meng Shi, and found the other boy staring right back at him. Nie Huaisang no longer appeared as furious at him as he had been before, but that might have been because he was preparing his own move, ready to ruin all of Lan Xichen's efforts. Nie Huaisang opened his mouth, surely to offer again that Meng Yao be sent to Qinghe, but missed his chance to speak.

“Yunmeng Jiang has never looked down on older disciples,” Jiang Fengmian said with a pleasant smile. “It can be a challenge to learn cultivation with a late start, but anyone who cannot take a challenge has no place teaching in the Lotus Pier. Sixteen... it could be worse. One of my own shidi was in his thirties when he joined us, and still did well enough for himself.”

Lan Xichen shivered, his body tensing further at this proposition.

Perhaps it was because he knew already, but the resemblance between Meng Yao and his father, between him and his half-brother also, was quite striking to him. It was possible that Jiang Fengmian hadn’t noticed, but unlikely when he often dealt with Jin Guangshan. Even if he really saw nothing, his wife was well known to be a very close friend to Madam Jin. There was no way Madam Yu wouldn’t notice that their newest disciple resembled Jin Guangshan, and since she was said to be a tyrant and the true ruler of Yunmeng Jiang…

“Are you sure this is wise?” Lan Qiren asked. “Even if that boy can be taught, his family…”

“His mother taught him well enough that he would take the defence of a stranger even in a fight he couldn’t win,” Jiang Fengmian said. “Or so your nephew said before. A good heart is what matters.”

“But half of Yunping City could be his father,” Huang Quiling argued, who'd paid more attention to their conversation than to the cultivation manuals he was meant to inspect. “From the lowest beggar to any drunk merchant with too much money to waste.”

“His father is a cultivator,” Meng Shi said, striding to come at her son's side. “He said he would return for A-Yao, but…” She glanced at Nie Huaisang who had followed her to hide again behind her. He had shared so much gossip earlier, it would have been hard for her to keep her hopes up. She sighed. “I only want for my son to live up to his potential. If he can be a cultivator, then that’s... good enough.”

“Is your son under any contractual obligation?” Jiang Fengmian asked.

“He's not,” Meng Shi vehemently decried. “He's free.”

“That will make things easier. If that is fine with you, I will accompany you two to your place of residence. We can talk about certain details while your son packs, and then he will come to Yunmeng with me. Would that satisfy you?”

Meng Shi, speechless, could only bow deeply before her son's new master. Meng Yao did the same a few times, before hugging his mother, both of them too stunned by this good fortune to even smile. As they held each other's hands tightly, Jiang Fengmian gave his son a few things to do while he was busy.

Huang Quiling too appeared quite stunned by this turn of events, and a good deal less pleased than the Mengs, but he wisely kept quiet about it. Lan Qiren's refusal to teach Meng Yao on account of his age would save Huang Quiling some face, since he could now pretend he had the same issue, but it wouldn't surprise Lan Xichen is the relationship because Yunmeng Jiang and Yunping Huang remained tense for a while.

Lan Xichen couldn't quite feel sorry for it. He didn't like people who thought they were allowed to be rude to their inferiors, and hoped that sect leader Huang would learn something from this experience.

Then, having given his son instructions, Jiang Fengmian walked back to Lan Qiren to bid him goodbye, explaining he expected his schedule for the day to be so changed that they might as well separate for good right then. Lan Qiren agreed, but frowned as he glanced toward Meng Yao.

“That boy's father, with his looks...” he said in a voice low enough the Mengs might not hear, but still clear enough for a cultivator's ears.

Eavesdropping was forbidden, but Lan Xichen found he couldn't help himself. Neither could Nie Huaisang, who leaned toward the two men to hear better.

“Probably. I'll have his mother confirm it,” Jiang Fengmian said in a similar tone. “but it won't change things. Even if my wife doesn't like it, I would be a fool to pass a chance to teach a boy of such potential. And Jin zongzhu would never admit any relation, so it'll all be fine.”

Lan Xichen let out a deep breath, relieved that things had worked out so well after all. He would have preferred to have Meng Yao in the Cloud Recesses, where he could have watched him closely and made sure he didn't go again down the same path as before, but the Lotus Pier wasn't an awful option either. They'd managed to turn someone like Wei Wuxian into an honest enough man, so they might know how to deal with Meng Yao as well.

Even when Lan Qiren reminded his nephew and Nie Huaisang that they would both be harshly punished for their bad behaviour, Lan Xichen found that he didn't mind, not when there was a good chance they had saved Nie Mingjue's life.

[itsamejin]

it’s you || part 1 || taehyung angst/fluff || hanahaki au

Part 2

Summary: You’d rather live with thorns endlessly scratching the back of your throat than be devoid of the light that Taehyung brought into your life. Even if your love for him was slowly killing you, you didn’t mind as long as you could keep the warmth of his presence until the very end.

Warning: Mentions of throwing up, coughing up blood, death, some slight violence

Genre: Fluff, Angst, hanahaki!au, college!au, fuckboy!tae

Premise: Hanahaki Disease comes in different forms in this universe. The disease would eventually disappear if your love wasn’t that strong to begin with, but if you truly, deeply love someone, your flowers will rip at your throat. Throwing up flowers wasn’t a rare occurrence and for most people it disappeared after a few days. If Hanahaki persists, surgery is recommended, but it would severely dull the positive emotions of the person under surgery. Due to this, some choose to die with their unrequited love. 

Commission Request: @guksflavor

Word Count: 8,313 words

—

Taehyung was obnoxiously handsome, too handsome to be a normal guy majoring in Psychology at one’s local university. Often mistaken for a celebrity, frequently breaking girl’s hearts, Taehyung was known as the campus “flower boy”. 

It was never meant as a term of endearment. In fact, it offended Taehyung deeply when people would whisper about his private life as if he was incapable of hearing the slight jabs to his character. The nickname came from the notorious fact that Taehyung would cause several people to spit out flower petals from his mere presence alone.

It was the common case of “love at first sight”, a kind that never lasted very long after getting to know him. 

Of course, throwing up petals was the first sign of the feared Hanahaki Disease, but it was never that serious when it came to Taehyung. The flowers would stop after a day or two and the girls who convinced themselves that Taehyung would be their future husband soon realized that their feelings never reached below the surface. 

Their love was shallow, for no one really loved Taehyung outside of his good looks and he didn’t really mind. 

Why should he when he hasn’t fallen in love either?

That’s why he was thankful for you and the rest of his close friends who scoffed at his blatant attempts at flirting. He was grateful for you helping him study or telling creepy girls off when they got a little too close to him at parties. He liked that you rejected his advances and that you cared deeply for him despite his tendency to annoy you. He appreciated having a friend that just... wanted to be a friend.

So why were you in the campus restroom stall, for the fifth time that week, spilling your guts out into the toilet? Why were you grasping at the wall, holding onto it for dear life, as you stared at a striking bundle of yellow flowers coated in toilet water? Why did you cry at the sight of beautiful and fully bloomed daffodils?

You swallowed back the incoming wave of discomfort but it kept coming. All because you couldn’t help but have your heart flutter when he put a hand on your shoulder. Your mind swam in thoughts of him and you weren’t quite sure if you could go on like this. If you could continue to want someone when it only brought you pain.

Why were you in love with Kim Taehyung when that was the last thing he wanted from you?

—

“Want to see something cool?” Taehyung asked, sprawled on your living room floor next to you. It was one of those lazy days you had with him, the kind that was only meant to be enjoyed by friends.

“No.”

Taehyung gave you a dirty look but sat up anyways.

“I’ve been working on my flexibility lately,” he chided. “I can touch my toes for 30 seconds now.”

You closed your eyes and gave him a fake smile.

“Good for you,” you sighed. Sometimes Taehyung had too much energy that you couldn’t match up with. You liked to humor him on days like this when he got extra pouty.

“So you’re not even gonna look?” he said, feigning sadness. 

You rolled your eyes behind closed eyes and sat up to face him. You regret opening your eyes because his face was far too close to yours. You would have given him a flower shower right when your eyes locked.

“What was that?” he chuckled. “You looked like you saw a ghost or something. Am I that scary to look at?”

He squeezed your cheeks with both hands and you attempted to pull away from him, only to have him squeeze harder.

“Yes, you’re hideous,” you said through broke sentences. “A beast. You look like a half-eaten mango.”

Taehyung burst out in laughter and let go as he let himself collapse back on the floor. He was that confident in his looks to not mind your snide comments.

“That’s rich coming from you,” he cackled.

You glared at him and hit his stomach with your fist, earning a big ‘oof’ from the oversized child in front of you.

“Say one more word and I will never set you up on that date with my friend,” you threatened, hurt that you had to mention another girl for Taehyung to quit his laughing.

“I’m sorry my queen,” he said dramatically, pretending to kneel at your feet. “I have wronged you.”

You scoffed at his antics and pinched his ear as he wailed for you to stop.

“This is what you get for being stupid,” you said through his cries for help. You lifted his head up to your face and was met with a dazzling grin. Why did he have to smile like that towards you? Why did he lead you on in the most innocent way possible?

“You love when I’m stupid though,” he teased, attempting to tickle your sides.

‘I love you even when you’re not stupid,’ you yearned to say out loud, but the words never escaped your lips.

—

As the days passed it was getting harder and harder to speak. The thorns of some of the flowers made permanent etch marks in the back of your throat. You could muster yourself to sound normal on most days, but just earlier you had thrown up a dozen roses at a small social gathering and the embarrassment and pain had become unbearable. 

You wished there was an easy explanation for your pain, but any time you tried to voice your thoughts out loud, you felt suffocated.

Your friends had noticed pretty early on that you had Hanahaki, but like everyone else, they thought it would disappear just as quickly as it came. Taehyung probably would have noticed if it weren’t for him being so desensitized to the disease that he never even bat an eye when you’d excuse yourself from the bathroom every time you two hung out.

He was the naive type, the one that needed to have it spelled out to him when an explanation was due. Maybe that’s why your heart would hurt so much at the thought of telling him about your condition. It would probably break him if he knew.

“[Y/N], at this point in time it’s imperative that you get surgery,” your doctor said sternly, twisting around in his chair. “It’s not safe to continue on without treatment.”

When the three month grace period passed, it was strongly recommended for you to get the surgery before your vocal cords were damaged beyond repair. 

If you continued to suffer from Hanahaki, death would be awaiting any moment.

“I know,” you said softly. “I’m willing to take that risk.” 

You had your reasons for not wanting surgery. It’s not like you wanted to die, but getting the procedure came with its consequences. Emotions would not come easily and there would be an absence of love in your life... not just for the person you have feelings for, but for everyone around you. So here you were, six months in and losing your voice more and more as the days went by. You were aware of what awaited you next.

You would know. Your mom went through the same procedure.

“You’re very young,” your doctor started, sighing at your stubbornness. “I know that this is a difficult situation, but getting this surgery will save your life. I can’t force you to change your mind, but I want you to weigh your options.”

You nodded at him but tuned out his words as to not be convinced. You couldn’t bear to see Taehyung as just another face, no longer finding the meaning behind his smile, no longer seeing the beauty in his movements. You would rather die a painful death than let go of the love you had developed for a man who didn’t feel the same for you.

“I’ll let you know if I decide differently,” you replied with a whisper. He looked at you with a tinge of disappointment.

“I can’t prescribe a higher dosage of painkillers,” your doctor said solemnly. “Any more and that would be killing you just as much.”

You looked down onto your knees and felt tears stream down your face. Whatever you choose to do, it would end with you in heartbreak anyways. You figured this was the least painful option.

—

Taehyung was always the type to mess around and flirt without thinking. You could count time and time again of him getting kicked out of bars or clubs from talking to other guy’s girlfriends and leaving Jungkook and you to clean up the mess. 

The intense gaze his eyes would hold when he’d see someone he found attractive, the way he’d confidently saunter towards them without feeling nervous. You admired Taehyung because he was someone you could never be. So himself, so unafraid of what the world would think of him.

You took a shot of whiskey and swallowed harshly. Your throat was burning from the petals that had invaded it earlier in the day, but you needed to drown out your feelings of sorrow somehow. Taehyung had managed to sneak back into the club, now making his way onto the crowded dance floor looking for his next target.

“You feeling okay?” Jungkook asked, patting your back as you coughed a bit at the taste. Jungkook was your mutual best friend with Taehyung, the defining person that made you the Three Musketeers. He was your rock when times were tough.

“I feel like shit,” you sighed deeply, watching as Taehyung grabbed an unassuming girl by the hand and blew her a kiss. “It’s like the flowers get bigger each day.”

Jungkook knew about your disease. In fact, he was the number one supporter of you getting that life-changing surgery that would impair your emotions for Taehyung permanently. He wanted you to live more than anything, even if it meant costing you a semblance of your happiness.

“Why don’t you just confess to him?” Jungkook asked bitterly. “I mean it couldn’t hurt, right? You’re basically preparing to die at this point.”

You scoffed at his straightforwardness. He was obviously upset with your decision to refuse the surgery and he was showing it to you in a very Jungkook way by making petty comments in a shady club. 

He’d never gotten Hanahaki so he would never understand, you thought.

“If I told Tae, wouldn’t you think he’d hate me?” you asked genuinely, tilting your head up at Jungkook. He stared down at you and you could tell he was holding back... because you knew the right answer to the question was yes.  He’d have the same reaction as any other womanizer who couldn’t keep a relationship to save his life.

Taehyung would hate you if you loved him. 

“He’ll probably ignore you for a bit, but that’s him being stupid,” Jungkook sighed, patting you on the head to comfort you a bit. “I mean, he’d probably try and force himself into falling in love with you if you told him about your... situation.”

You pursed your lips. You could see Taehyung do exactly just that. That was his classic way of ghosting the girls he messed around with, but Taehyung would never commit to those same tactics with you. He considered you like family and he’d probably blame himself until the end of time if he were to find out.

“See what I mean?” you avoided eye contact with Jungkook as you felt your eyes tear up a bit. “It would be all fake. He’d hate me and then pretend to love me and then I’d die either way. It would hurt a hell of a lot more if I let that happen.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows and glared at you.

“There’s always the possibility that he does fall in love with you, y’know?”

You shook your head and fiddled with your fingers.

“Taehyung doesn’t fall in love,” you muttered softly. 

The two of you stayed silent, aware that the words you uttered were true. Even as he danced with beautiful women around him, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes solely on Taehyung. He would never let himself be so vulnerable as to fall in love with somebody, let alone a close friend like you.

So why did you let him worm into your heart so easily?

—

Six months ago...

“[Y/N], I’m asking you just this once,” Taehyung begged, puppy eyes activated. “I am begging you to give me her number.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. He always wanted to bother you when you worked your shift at the bookstore. Somehow, Taehyung still didn’t want to make himself useful by helping you put away books.

“Tae, we’re in the same class,” you sighed as you stacked up some magazines on top of each other and pushing a bunch of them into one of the higher shelves. “You could just ask her yourself.”

He whined and gave you that infamous pout known to make every girl on campus swoon. If it weren’t for your self-control you would have punched him right then and there for trying to act cute with you while at work.

“I can’t be too direct,” he replied with those pouty lips. “The other girl I'm trying to get with in that class will notice.”

You scrunched your nose. For someone who hated giving people Hanahaki, he couldn’t help but play around with girls as if it were a sport. He was practically an expert in making himself hated amongst his exs.

“You’re gonna regret being such a fuckboy one of these days,” you warned, but taking out your phone to pull up her number anyways. “Mark my words.”

He let out a cheer and hugged you from behind, squeezing you until the oxygen left your body. You tried to push him off of you, but he didn’t budge. It was better to just let him get his clinginess out of the way and then kick him in the shins later.

“I’ll treat you to dinner for this,” he said, grinning as you sent him her number through text message.

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed. “Please let go of me I feel like I’m about to throw up.”

He laughed and kissed your cheek, a sound that resounded from the store so loudly that it made you wince.

“Love ya,” he smiled, rushing out of the store like a giddy teenage girl. You clenched your fists and touched the area he pecked. Somehow it made you angry at how excited he looked at the thought of another girl. 

What did they have that you didn’t? Did you not exist to him at all?

You clutched onto your stomach as you felt something rumble. You felt an uncomfortable itch in the back of your throat and asked your boss if you could be excused. You tried making it to the bathroom in the back of the bookstore but you stumbled on a pile of books before you could reach your destination. You were on your knees, clutching your stomach as you hurled the contents inside of your stomach onto the wooden floors.

‘I’m so getting fired for this,’ you thought, as you kept your eyes clenched. When you decided to open them, you weren’t met with the soupy substance of the pizza you ate earlier that day, but with an array of pink peonies scattered across the floor. You shook your head out of disbelief. 

No one throws up that many flowers on the first day of contracting Hanahaki. It was always one or two petals and it never came in full blooms of flowers. You had experienced this before with a boy back in middle school and it never turned out so... dangerously beautiful like this.

The sight in front of you was astonishing, the books stacked behind the scattered petals made for a picturesque view. Something about it didn’t sit quite right with you though, as if this signaled your demise.

You whisked through the flowers to see if anything abnormal was found in the flowers and there you saw it. Small specks of blood on the petals.

You realized then that you were screwed.

—

Present

The club continued to stay lively as Taehyung danced his heart out, simultaneously avoiding the bouncers that made their rounds around the club. He couldn’t risk getting kicked out again. 

While you enjoyed seeing how much fun he was having, it made you sick to your stomach at how up close and personal he was with other girls. It made your blood boil at how easily it was for Taehyung to be so enamored with someone he could meet just five seconds ago, but feel nothing for you when you’d been friends for much longer. You held onto Jungkook’s arm to keep you steady as you felt another vomit session come up. You were starting to get dizzy and it wasn’t from the alcohol.

“You look like you’re about to faint any second now,” Jungkook said, worry etched all over his face. “Do you need me to take you home?”

You just laughed softly and grabbed onto the table in front of you instead of Jungkook. You weren’t leaving tonight knowing that Taehyung was still having the time of his life in front of you, even if it hurt to even stand. You just needed to take your mind off of him, that’s all.

“Jungkook, if you just randomly got amnesia one day and forgot everyone around you, how would you feel?” you asked him, pouring another round of whiskey into your glass to ease the headache.

“What does this have to do with you fainting?” he grumbled, stealing your shot and gulping it down for yourself. You scoffed at his blatant attempt to keep you from drinking.

“Just answer the question,” you said, now eyeing a girl Taehyung had his body pressed against. She looked about ready to pounce on him any second.

“I don’t know, I’d probably feel like shit,” he shrugged, motioning for you to pour him another drink. You obliged.

“Well that’s how getting that fucking surgery would feel like,” you said rather aggressively as now the girl was taking Taehyung to the back of the club, where the restroom stalls were. You felt the familiar feeling of choking occur but you muscled through it.

“You’re overreacting,” Jungkook said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t drink the shot yet and instead handed it to you. He noticed Taehyung getting dragged to the restroom too and felt like you needed it, even if your hands were shaking as you grabbed it from his hands. You clenched your fist as you swallowed the cold liquid. It had flushed down the flowers temporarily.

“Not overreacting. I’ve seen it first-hand myself,” you said.

He looked at you, surprise written all over his face, but didn’t press any further. That’s why you appreciated Jungkook so much. He never overstepped his boundaries, unlike Taehyung who practically invaded your personal space each time you saw him. The two were so different from each other and you were so different from them. You wondered how the three of you even became friends.

“I don’t want to turn out like an empty shell for the rest of my life,” you continued, still holding the empty shot glass to your lips. “I’d rather die doing everything I wanted to rather than live a meaningless life.”

He glanced at you, slightly impressed by how stubborn you truly were. Nothing would get to you and no amount of pleading would make you change your mind. You weren’t going to get that surgery.

“So are you gonna make like a bucket list or what?” he asked, taking the whiskey and chugging it straight from the bottle. You looked at him in disgust as he detached himself from the liquor. It seems like both of you were drinking to forget.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” you smiled, finally setting the glass down as you saw Taehyung exit the bathroom looking disgusted. “Might as well since I’m gonna die anyway.”

You two laughed at the morbidity of it all. It wasn’t a funny situation to be in, but you had to make the most of it. Would this be the last time you go clubbing with Jungkook and Taehyung? Would your life end before it even really started?

“That girl puked hydrangeas on my fucking shoes,” Taehyung yelled, rushing to the two of you. “We gotta leave, I am not having her follow me around after this.”

Jungkook and you scoffed at his silliness. This was better, you thought. The atmosphere between Jungkook and you earlier was so grim. Typical Taehyung brightening up the mood wherever he went.

Even as the feeling of thorns pricked against your throat, you couldn’t shake off the smile that was on your face. For Taehyung had made you happy and you couldn’t imagine not feeling any emotion other than love as he looked at you with such sincerity.

You couldn’t bear the idea of Taehyung not having an effect on you.

—

“Please, Jungkook,” Taehyung cried, shaking him back and forth as all three of you stood in the university hallways waiting for the lecture hall to open. “Just give me the notes, I’ll give them back I promise.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue and tried to pull his backpack away from Taehyung who was furiously trying to make a grab at it.

“Fuck off dude, you should’ve studied when you had the chance,” Jungkook sighed, searching for some assistance from you. “It’s not my fault you got wasted at the club last night.”

Taehyung whined at Jungkook’s reluctance to help him out. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t cram any information that morning with that stupid hangover of his. Pretty soon, Taehyung was looking at you too, expectations written all over his face. You huffed out an annoyed breath and opened up your own bag.

“Tae, just use my notes,” you shook your head lightly, taking out the composition book tucked near the back of your bag. “Stop bothering Jungkook, he looks ready to start a fight with you any moment now.”

Taehyung’s eyes lit up in a way that made your heart stop, naturally gravitating towards your direction. He looked so pure and innocent in moments like these when he gets something he wants. You couldn’t help but feed off from his positive energy.

You handed him your notebook as he stared at it in awe.

“You are the only person who wants to see me succeed,” Taehyung said dramatically, kissing your notes as if it were the seventh wonder of the world. Jungkook scoffed and smacked Taehyung’s head.

“What are you gonna do without [Y/N] always covering you?” he rolled his eyes. Somehow his words stung a bit. 

You didn’t think Jungkook really knew the weight of his own words, but you were thinking deeply about it. What would Taehyung do without you being there for him all the time?

Taehyung shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter, [Y/N]’s gonna be my guardian angel forever,” he teased and put an arm around you. You clenched your jaw and looked down a the floor. You could not let yourself yack some damn petals in that hallway during exam season.

"Do you not feel sorry for her one bit?” Jungkook scoffed, clearly done with Taehyung’s childish antics.

“Why should I?” Taehyung asked innocently, nuzzling into your hair as he held you tight. Somehow his touch felt suffocating, even though his arm was lightly placed on your shoulders. 

“It’s not like she can live without me either,” he teased, booping your nose. 

Jungkook and you exchanged glances and both simultaneously pulled on his ears.

‘If only he knew,’ you thought to yourselves.

—

After the quiz that Taehyung most likely failed, he invited Jungkook and you over to his place to eat some ramen. 

“Sorry man, we actually have a life outside of you,” Jungkook said, declining his offer. “I’ve got extra shifts at work to cover anyways.”

You nodded at Jungkook’s excuse and proceeded with your own.

“I have some stuff to catch up on, so I can’t go,” you replied, trying to act nonchalantly. “Maybe next time, Tae?”

He shook his head at you two, feigning sadness.

“Both of you always act cold towards me, I’m starting to feel like this is a one-sided friendship,” he sighed, clenching his heart as if he was shot. It took everything in you to not step on his foot right then. He might not know about your condition, but the comments were unnecessary regardless if you had Hanahaki or not.

Jungkook and you simply stared at him and he awkwardly put his hand down when none of you showed a reaction.

“Fine, go do whatever,” he said, pompously. “I was gonna invite a girl over for dinner anyways.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

“Alright, bro. Have fun or whatever,” he said, trying to shoo Taehyung away. “I’ll walk [Y/N] to her dorm, you just leave.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue at him, but eventually left, leaving you to be with Jungkook alone.

“He’s the worst,” you sighed, and to that Jungkook nodded in agreement.

“You’re still choosing to die for him, though,” Jungkook muttered under his breath. You flinched at his words, saddened by Jungkook’s word choice. If he put it like that then you sounded like a weirdo.  

An awkward silence fell between the two of you. You half-expected Taehyung to come back to you guys and interrupt your conversation to help lighten the mood, but he never came. Jungkook expected you to talk first since you were the one that asked to talk to him anyway, but it was clear his underhanded comment had made you uncomfortable.

“Why did you want to meet up with me anyway?” Jungkook asked, easing the tension just a bit.

You coughed awkwardly and looked up at him with a new sense of determination in your eyes that he hadn’t seen in a while. You seldom looked motivated these days.

“It’s about that bucket list thing you mentioned yesterday,” you started. “I want to do one of the things as soon as possible.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Why?”

You bit your bottom lip, not quite knowing how to phrase what you were about to say without making Jungkook upset. He’d probably nag at you like he usually does.

“I don’t have a lot of time left, Jungkook,” you said softly. “I just want to do as much as I can before I get stuck in a hospital bed.”

He stared down at you with sorrowful eyes. He wished there was some other way to help you, one that didn’t ultimately end in you dying.

“What do you need?” he asked kindly, surprisingly taking your words pretty well. 

You smiled up at him and pulled out a piece of paper from your bag. Jungkook took it from your hands and was met with small sketches of flowers that you had presumably drawn. He studied the designs carefully, confused. 

“Okay, how the hell am I supposed to know what this means?” he asked you, angling the paper in different ways to see if he was supposed to crack a code or something.

You shook your head in disappointment. You thought he’d get it by now, considering it was in his line of work.

“Tattoos,” you said simply. “I want a whole sleeve of flowers on my right arm and a bunch of small ones on like my thigh-”

“Stop stop stop,” Jungkook said, waving a hand in front of your face to shut you up. “You want a what now?”

You smiled brightly and spoke with more confidence.

“I want tattoos!”

He scoffed and handed back the paper to you.

“Are you only saying this because you’re gonna get discounted at the shop I work at?”

You shook your head rapidly, not amused by his assumptions.

“No, I’ve just always wanted them,” you said seriously. “I was always too scared with the needle but since I’ve got nothing to lose, I thought why not?”

Jungkook poked you with his index finger in the area between your eyebrows.

“You need to stop talking like that [Y/N],” he said seriously. “I hate when you get all negative.”

You smiled sadly at him.

“Give me the tattoos and I’ll stop talking,” you teased, but your words lacked genuine feeling.

Jungkook heaved out a sigh.

“Fine, but don’t come crying to me if you regret it,” he said, turning his back to you so he could make a call to his boss. Turns out he actually would be working that day.

—

The feeling of Jungkook’s needle on your skin didn’t hurt as much as you nearly thought it would, the pain only coming in dull waves. 

After throwing up flowers consistently for the past few months, nothing could quite match up to the pain of thorns poking at your throat at random times of the day. To you, this was child’s play.

“You’re taking this pretty well for a beginner,” Jungkook complimented, still focusing on the light curves of the forget-me-nots he was etching onto your skin. A whole array of flowers would be drawn on your arm eventually.

“I’m good with my emotions unlike some people,” you said, clearly referencing how agitated Jungkook had been recently. He seemed to lash out every little thing and even made snide comments when he thought no one was listening. Jungkook was definitely taking your situation harder than you were at this point. 

He only smiled at your words, not making any big movements as to not disrupt his work.

“I’m just shocked you’d want the stuff that’s gonna kill you to be on your body forever,” he replied back. Although he spoke too morbidly, he made a fair point.

“Well, the flowers mean more to me than just that,” you started, slightly wincing as Jungkook’s needled started drawing on a new patch of skin. 

Jungkook noticed your discomfort and tried to ease your mind.

“Tell me about that,” he asked, hoping you didn’t feel even more uncomfortable with the question. He anticipated your reply as you coughed awkwardly.

“I’m actually doing this for my mom,” you said softly, avoiding eye contact with him. “She had Hanahaki too and it didn’t turn out well.”

He took a step back to get a good look at your sleeve. He had been working at this tattoo for two hours now and he only seemed to finish just one small section. ‘This would take several sessions of hard work,’ he thought to himself.

“You never talk about your mom,” he pointed out, lightly dabbing the bleeding parts of your skin to avoid infection on your skin.

“My mom got the surgery,” you said slowly, suddenly feeling a sting as the needle hit your skin again. “She found out my dad cheated on her after throwing up flowers for a couple of nights.”

He stopped his movements for a bit, shocked with your revelation. He knew you were hiding something, but he never expected it to be this big. He looked up at you and regretted seeing your sad expression so up close. It seemed you were about ready to cry.

“It literally broke her,” you continued. “She didn’t find joy in anything anymore. Like, she was a completely different person.”

Jungkook stopped his wrists from moving and pulled back a bit. He didn’t know how to comfort you. It was always Taehyug’s forte when it came to emotional stuff. What was he even supposed to say?

“Did you tell her?” Jungkook gulped, his words were shaky. “About not wanting the surgery.”

It was then that you started to break down and it wasn’t from the pain of getting a tattoo. It was the look of complete and utter worry from Jungkook that set you off into a fit of tears. 

“Who is there to tell, Jungkook?” you whispered through the tears. “She’s dead.”

He looked at you in shock, not really registering your words. Obviously, your mother hadn’t died from Hanahaki, she already got the surgery. The reason, he knew, must’ve been much more sinister. He didn’t quite know how to approach you as you hiccuped through your tears. He patted your back in reassurance and repeated time and time again that it was okay, that Taehyung and him would be there for you.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” you mumbled. “I’m a shitty friend.”

He shook his head and was about to reply when an unwelcomed guest came bursting through the tattoo parlor doors.

“Jungkooooook,” you heard a yodel, belonging only to a voice you two could recognize perfectly. 

Taehyung.

You made swift movements to wipe away the tears from your face and Jungkook pretended as if he was in deep focus on drawing something on your skin. Taehyung entered Jungkook’s station, unassuming and bright as ever. He held a plastic bag with takeout boxes in his hand, presumably food.

“[Y/N]? You’re here too?” he asked in confusion, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "Getting a tattoo?”

You nodded hesitantly and he gave an even more worrisome look.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” he asked slowly, trying to decipher what was really happening.

Jungkook coughed awkwardly.

“I think I’m gonna check out the other clients for a second,” he said, standing up and setting down his tools. “I’ll be right back, [Y/N].”

You looked at Jungkook pleadingly to stay, but he shook his head. He did not want to get involved in whatever discussion was about to go. You sighed and brushed the strands of your hair that was getting on your face. You just hoped your red eyes from crying went unnoticed.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were getting a tattoo?” he asked sadly, sitting on the stool Jungkook once occupied. “Is this what you meant when you said you were ‘catching up on things’?” 

You pursed your lips, not quite knowing how to respond.

“It was a personal thing,” you whispered, massaging the back of your neck. You felt the flowers in your stomach once again.

“What, so you told Jungkook and not me?” Taehyung pouted, setting the food he brought on a nearby table. “I texted him if he was at work and he said yeah. I usually surprise him with Thai food. I didn’t think you were gonna be here too so I only bought enough for two.”

You smiled at him. Taehyung was still as considerate as ever.

He took a look at your tattoo, slightly confused with the realistic flower patterns. His fingers ghosted over them as if to make sure they were real.

“Why flowers?” he asked. He never thought of you as a flora type person. He’s probably never seen you hold a flower in his life.

“None of your business,” you scoffed trying to face away from him. You didn’t want him to see your flustered expression and the puffiness of your under-eyes. He pouted at your words and lack of eye contact.

“You’ve been so distant from me lately, [Y/N],” he said in a cutesy voice. “I feel like Jungkook and you have been hanging out with each other more than with me. I’m starting to feel really left out.”

You chuckled. You weren’t mad at him for barging in during your tattoo session, but you were frustrated with his naivety. There you were getting the most feared items on the world tattooed on your skin and he questioned very little of it? How dense was he really?

“We can hang out some other time, alright Tae?” you said, ruffling his hair lightly. “I just want this first session done and over with.”

He grinned up at you and squeezed your hand that was on his head.

“Then let me stay here to be your emotional support,” he teased, taking your hand into his. You nodded with a smile, but an uncomfortable feeling had erupted in your stomach.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” you asked urgently, pain laced in your voice. He nodded worriedly as he watched you rush off into the restroom. ‘You were having a lot of stomachaches lately,’ he thought to himself.

You covered your mouth with your palm as soon as you were out of Taehyung’s sight, making sure not to throw up anything on the tattoo parlor floor. Jungkook saw you escaping from his station and followed you into the unisex bathroom. He rushed over to you as you threw up into the toilet bowl, some excess flower petals hitting the floor instead. Tears welled up in your eyes as the flowers kept coming in several colors, all different sizes. They were all tulips, stained in blood and mucus, a truly disgusting sight to behold. 

Jungkook patted your back gently and tried to ease you through the pain. Your mouth ached as the last petal left your lips and you desperately grabbed onto Jungkook’s thigh as you coughed out blood. Your lips were horribly stained with a deep rouge.

“Water, please,” you pleaded with your strained voice in between coughing fits. 

Jungkook got you the water and while you tried to act like nothing happened when you came back to Taehyung who was playing Candy Crush on his phone, he couldn’t help but notice how raspy your voice had gotten since just a few moments earlier and how tired your eyes looked when you stared at him. 

“Are you sure you wanna keep on going?” Jungkook whispered to you. “We can have another session tomorrow. I think it’s probably best you go home.”

You shook your head.

“I just want to be with him a bit more,” you said softly, glad that the boy of your affection was so deeply engrossed in his mobile game. “I didn’t lose that much blood.

Taehyung, at the corner of his eye, couldn’t help but see a small pink petal on your shoe with tinges of red splattered on it. He saw the way Jungkook would ask you every 30 seconds if you were feeling okay when he was never the type to talk while he tattoed.

He wondered if it was any of his business to ask.

—

Throughout the next two weeks, Jungkook had finished the various tattoos you  wanted through grueling sessions with Taehyung bothering the two of you in the sidelines. Within those weeks, your health had massively deteriorated as well. The number of flowers you threw up increased by the day and the amount of blood that showed up was worrisome, to say the least. You knew your time was coming up, so it was only fair that you were to complete something you desired most before your eventual demise. 

Go on a proper date with Taehyung. 

Not like the one-on-one hangouts you had with him where you’d throw on whatever. No, you wanted to get dolled up and pretty this time, so you asked him if he wanted to go watch a movie with you and eat dinner after. You knew it wouldn’t change how Taehyung felt about you since he wouldn’t even consider your invitation as a date, but you still wanted to look your best regardless. 

You got ready hours before he intended to come over to pick you up. You lathered on several layers of lipstick, not really knowing what you were expecting to happen anyways. When you finally made your way outside, you were satisfied the starstruck look in Taehyung’s eyes

“Wow you dressed up today,” he chided as he saw you exit your dormitory. “You have someone to impress or what?”

He winked at you and you only scoffed in response. It was obvious that he was staring intently at the new tattoos you had embedded into your skin. It was nice seeing him look at you in a way that you weren’t used to... like he actually found you attractive.

“Please, I look good for myself,” you said confidently. “Can’t say the same for you considering you wore that shirt yesterday.”

He clicked his tongue in your direction.

“Whatever, whatever,” he said, waving his hand in front of him. “I get to have you all to myself today. No Jungkook in sight. I could rub this in his face later.”

You laughed at his silliness. If you wanted to delude yourself, you’d have thought Taehyung was jealous. He was so cute, with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked at you with a flushed face. You only had to tolerate the fluttering feeling in your stomach for a few hours or so, how bad could it be? You just needed to endure it until Tehyung left and you were free to throw up all the petals you needed to.

“Let’s go to the movies?” you offered and he smiled, agreeing with your suggestion.

It was nice like this, walking by his side without a care in the world. It made you sad to think that this too would be taken away from you. That you’ll never get to hear him babble about dates gone awry or see how his smile would get wider when he saw his favorite food again. It would all be taken away from you eventually, one way or another. You clenched your fist, attempting to focus on his voice rather than the nausea that had overtaken your body. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you had to love him all alone.

“I don’t think I get to tell you enough how much I appreciate you,” Taehyung said, breaking the comfortable silence between you two. “You always look out for me even when you look like you aren’t.”

You smiled at his compliment.

“There’s no need for that,” you replied. “What kind of friend would I be if I just watched you suffer alone?”

You tried to swallow down the hypocrisy that came with your own words. He had no idea that you were lying through your teeth right then and there. You tensed at the sound of Taehyung chuckling at your comment.

“That’s what friends are for after all,” he said in agreement.

It happened almost suddenly. The first cough and then a second and then you couldn’t stop your knees from hitting the concrete of the city sidewalk.

“[Y/N],” Taehyung shouted, kneeling next to you on the crowded street. His voice was distorted among all the other sounds you were hearing. There were bells, whistles, the sound of an incoming storm. You started hyperventilating.

‘Not here, not here. Anywhere else but here,’ you screamed to yourself in your head.

You clenched your stomach and tried to hold back the impending contents that were soon to escape your lips. You shook your head as tears threatened to spill out of your eyes. You didn’t want Taehyung to see you like this.

“[Y/N], tell me what's wrong,” Taehyung pleaded. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!”

You couldn’t help as the tears rolled down your face as the first petal left. And then another. By then, a crowd had formed around you two and someone was in the process of calling an ambulance. You couldn’t stop the bloody white roses that escaped your lips, slashing the inside of your throat as more of them came. All parts of your body ached, but your heart hurt the most. Taehyung’s face was in such distress and you were the reason for it.

You were the reason for his pain just as he was the reason for yours.

The last thing you heard before collapsing in his arms was Taehyung screaming your name, the blood mixed with lipstick on your mouth staining his shirt. He called for help and eventually, they did come. They came but it felt like he had already failed you somehow. Like he could’ve done more to protect you.

As the EMTs hauled you off into the ambulance truck, he took one last glance at the pile of flowers that stained the concrete.

It looked too similar to the flowers drawn near your shoulder.

—

Taehyung sat near your hospital bed, clenching his hands together and shutting his eyes to even out his breathing. ‘I’m a dumbass for not realizing earlier,’ he thought to himself.

The nurses had filled him in about your condition just a few moments earlier. He found out that you were six months into being diagnosed with Hanahaki and that you had no intention of getting surgery. It hurt his heart to think that you were suffering all alone, carrying the burden of a terminal illness all by yourself. He hated to think that the person you loved had no idea you were in such pain. Taehyung found himself hating the person you longed for, even if he didn’t know who that was.

He took a glance at your resting features.

You looked so pale in the dim hospital lights and the sound of your heart monitor made him apprehensive. You had Hanahaki and you never bothered to tell him? Was this another one of your secrets you were hiding from him lately? He sighed, burying his face into his palms.

"You don’t deserve this [Y/N],” he said solemnly, brushing away some strands of hair from your face. “Anyone would be lucky to have you be in love with them. That person doesn’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Taehyung went through a list of people in his head who could’ve been your possible unrequited love. It couldn’t be Namjoon, the guy that was helping you out all the time at the bookstore. You two barely talked. It wasn't Seokjin from lecture hall either, you said he wasn't your type. Was it Hoseok from the same department? Perhaps was it-?

He webbed his fingers through his hair out of frustration. Who could it possibly be?

Taehyung was disturbed from his thoughts from a slight knocking sound that continued on for a few seconds.

"Come in," he replied back cautiously.

To Taehyung’s surprise, Jungkook opened the door, a bouquet flowers in his hand as he walked through. Taehyung's body tensed at the sight of him. He had put two in two together and now he clenched his fists together, tightening his jaw.

It was him. It had to be him.

"I would've come earlier, but I wanted to get these for her when she wakes up," Jungkook said solemnly and set the flowers down near the hospital nightstand. "How's [Y/N] holding up?"

Taehyung stood up from the seat next to your bed, cracking his neck to the side to release some tension. He came close to Jungkook, glaring at him in a threatening stance. Taehyung grabbed at his collar.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing bring flowers to a patient with Hanahaki?"

Taehyung's voice didn't sound quite like he usually did. There was a growl akin to anger in the way he spoke. Jungkook pushed him off of him, confused as to why Taehyung was picking a fight with you when you were sleeping just a few meters away.

"It's just a nice gesture," Jungkook seethed. "Why are you being so fucking hostile when you didn't even know she had Hanahaki in the first place?"

Taehyung scoffed, shoving Jungkook by the chest.

"You knew?" he squinted his eyes at Jungkook. "You fucking knew and you didn't do anything about it?"

Jungkook took a look at your sleeping form. He was glad you weren't awake to be hearing this because he was ready to do something he'd regret. He didn’t mind getting kicked out of the hospital if it meant putting Taehyung in his place.

"Why should I do anything, huh?" Jungkook sighed. "I’ve been begging her to get the damn surgery. She won't fucking listen to me!"

Taehyung punched him right then. His wrists were bound to bruise by the impact of it all and Jungkook just stared at him in shock, clutching his cheek.

"It's your fault that she's dying," Taehyung started, tears welling up in his eyes. "You should have fucking tried harder to convince her. You could’ve stopped this."

Jungkook charged at him and pushed Taehyung against the wall. It was a miracle you hadn’t woken up from all the noise they were making. There was bound to be complaints from neighboring rooms for the ruckus the two boys were causing.

"Me?" Jungkook gritted his teeth, taking a good hard look at Taehyung. "You’re saying I'm the reason?"

Taehyung scoffed at his face and pushed him off.

"Who else then? Who else is fucking killing [Y/N]?!" Taehyung cried, his voice echoing in the hospital room.

Jungkook took a step back from him until he soon brought his fist back to hit Taehyung square in the jaw. He fell onto the floor and cringed at the pain.

“I know it’s not my business to say anything,” he mumbled, but loud enough for Taehyung to hear him. “And that it’s between [Y/N] and you but I’m really fucking sick and tired of seeing her break down over someone as incompetent and stupid as-”

“Can you just spit it out already, you piece of shit-”

Jungkook threw another punch at Taehyung when he made his way to stand. He had collapsed on the floor again, trying to readjust his jaw. Jungkook’s hand was bleeding at that point, but he didn’t care one bit. Taehyung deserved everything that was coming to him.

“It’s you,” Jungkook seethed. “You’re the reason why she’s fucking dying!”

Taehyung stared up at him in a state of shock as your body had started to wake up into consciousness. The two boys stared at each other, dripping in anger.

“What did you say?”

—

A/N: Another Taehyung fic up my sleeve! Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger like that :P The second part will be a lot more intense. Special thanks to @guksflavor for commissioning this and also buying 2 coffees for me, I really appreciate it. It was a whole lot of fun writing this first part and I hope you guys enjoyed it. It’s my first time writing about Hanahaki Disease, so I wanted my interpretation to be slightly unique. I’m so glad I got a request like this from the get-go, since I love these kind of angsty stories. If y’all want to commission for stories or simply donate, my Kofi is linked on my blog. If not, that’s totally fine, I’m thankful for your support either way.

PS. Trash part two comes out at the end of this week, please anticipate it a lot!

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

Their adorableness knows no bounds!

How does a romantic relationship start? Maybe when he waits for you for hours until you get off work, overcomes his own ego and resentment to begin working at the inn he hated for most of his life to be with you, or when he asks you what you want, looking like your answer was the greatest mystery he desperately needs to uncover. Or when you smile whenever you see him, laugh like a carefree teenager around him or run giggling after him. Then, doesn’t it mean that your romance has already begun?

I adore how Issei literally waits for Hayame in front of the ryokan just like Hachi waited for his master and is like ‘yeah, I just happened to pass by your workplace by the same time you get off work and decided to stop and enjoy the landscape. It’s a complete coincidence, I totally haven’t been waiting for you for hours,’ and then follows her obediently, all shy and bashfull looking at her with those beautiful hopeful puppy eyes like he couldn’t live without her.

It’s really symbolic considering that he’s been the one always waiting for her since the beginning - an apt metaphor for him waiting for Hayame to love him back - searching for her, seeking her out; highlighting the dynamic between them, which is another reason why her finally coming to Issei at the park earlier meant so much for him.

Also, he is totally trying to fix things by genuinely wanting to cancel the debt but when she insists on paying it anyway, he suggest she continues the game but this time, they both know the money doesn’t really matter and you can spot the moment, he realizes he can still use it not only as an excuse to spend even more time with her, but actually court her.

Hayame mentioning holiday shows the gap between her as a working adult and Issei having so much free time as a student as another aspect of the age difference that separates them of which they are both palpably aware. However, Issei decides to take significant steps towards Hayame, coming closer to her step by step, and bridge the distance between them created by it. It’s been a journey which began with him waiting for her at home, annoyed and impatient, them coming to meet her halfway, sneaking in the inn to catch a glimpse of her and meet her there, and now continues with him finding a job there for which he even begged his grandma - asking her to allow him make his own money for the first time in his life instead of asking for hers. 

Hayame’s rebukes of his childishness really hurt Issei and saddened him, but it leads him to realize it’s his biggest flaw and in order to have a chance with her, he needs to overcome it and become a better man, someone who could protect her and she could lean on, someone reliable and not an angry, whiny child. 

The best thing is that from the moment he got over the resentment and inferiority complex, he’s been halfway there already because, as Hayame herself said, he’s always been a good person trying to act like the bad guy.

Overcoming himself and his dislike for the inn, Issei throws away his ego and even asks Koya for advice instead of lashing out at everyone or telling them to leave him alone like before. He is done avoiding his issues and running away from a fight with his older brother, he is going to fight for his right to be with Hayame.

When Issei finally finds the courage and asks Hayame what she would like, it happens right after Koya adviced him to find a job at the inn so he totally wants to give her something she truly desires with the money he earns. 

A BIRTHDAY PRESENT PERHAPS?! He would want to give Hayame something special for her birthday, why else would he be so disappointed she wanted only cheap slippers? Hayame’s birthday is on September 15 as we’ve seen in episode 1. Such a blatant reveal of a deeply specific and significant information? Moreover, the series ends in the middle of September. Coincidence? I doubt it, drama writers are rarely so lazy. Besides, I noticed some jewelry sponsorships in the final credits (and yes, I’m that obssessed with this show!).

It would be hilarious if Issei really bought Hayame the cleaning slippers in a spin on the whole Cinderela theme (plus, the fact the first pair of shoes he offered to her were his worn-out bathroom slippers so it would be another great tie-in) because they were the shoes she wanted, practical and comfy, and not some fancy uncomfortable and useless heels made of glass.

[mrvltwimagines]

Just Another Day

PLATONIC-ISH COWORKER!SEBASTIAN STAN x READER x (TINY BIT OF) PLATONIC COWORKER!MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER 

SUMMARY: You had gotten too comfortable at your old job where no one noticed anything about you and didn’t think about how hard it would be to hide your ongoing secrets from your new coworkers.

WARNINGS: Domestic Abuse, Mentions of Anxiety

WORD COUNT: 4.4k (whew another long one, oopsies!)

You knew with starting a new job that some of your secrets would shine through eventually. You were beyond grateful to have gotten this job, even if it was just retail. You had been struggling financially which had taken a toll on your mental health, so working again and knowing you have consistent paychecks coming your way was relieving.

Compared to your previous job, it only took the first day working at this new company to realize how bad you previously had it and how lucky you were to have landed this one. Your coworkers were all so nice, and while the customers you dealt with continuously acted like they were above you, that was just a part of working in retail.

Your anxiety was heightened during the first few days. You didn’t know anyone and you had to go through the constant motions of introducing yourself to anyone and everyone even though the very last thing you wanted to do was draw attention to yourself. The assistant store manager, Sebastian, was always checking in on you, even going as far as to ask how you were feeling mentally being thrown into such a large environment as the new person. You always responded that you were doing fine, but your anxiety was always creeping around the corner. You struggled with controlling your emotions at your previous job, always feeling so unprofessional and naive to cry or get upset when things got too much so you felt as if you needed to make a pact with yourself to not show as much emotion at this new job. 

You had noticed the pattern of male dominance throughout your new job. A lot of the women worked around the front end, leaving you to be one of the few working the floor with mainly men. You tried not to let your nerves show through each time you had to converse with some of the guys. You knew everyone here was going to be professional, but your guard was still up that one of them could act out.

The feeling of your phone continuously vibrating broke you out of your thoughts as you worked on the task at hand. You knew exactly who it was and fought the urge to roll your eyes, but even when you weren’t with him you didn’t do anything that would get you in trouble if you were in his eyesight. Taking a peek around you, you slyly pulled your phone out of your pocket, reading the texts from your boyfriend, most of them not being important but you knew the rule on texting back. Typing out a quick response with little commentary and answers to each of the texts, you slipped your phone back into your work vest.

“You doing alright over here?” you couldn’t help the small jump your body did out of habit while turning around with your hand over your chest. A small chuckle left Sebastian's mouth as he apologized for sneaking up on you. You could feel the heat rising to your face and neck, embarrassed at the thought of what he just witnessed.

“It’s fine, i’m doing fine,” you replied, nodding your head a bit towards what you were working on as if to prove that you were actually doing something productive, “I should easily be able to finish this all before i’m off today.”

“Oh good, thank you,” he smiled, “Just let me or Matthew know if you’re ever getting too overwhelmed and we’ll back off on giving you so many projects.”

“Oh trust me, compared to what i did at my last job, i am completely happy and not overwhelmed here, but thank you anyways.”

Your conversation lasted a few minutes longer before he had to run off to help out in another part of the store leaving you to get back to your task. 

The day flew by and before you knew it, it was the end of your last shift of your first week. You were overall ecstatic about working again and having such an easy going manager. The entire week went by so fast and luckily hasn’t added any more stress to your already stressful life. 

Waving goodbye to a few of your coworkers, you peeked into Sebastian’s office to see him and Matthew having a conversation. You were about to duck back out, but made eye contact with Matthew and he was quick to halt their conversation, waving you in.

“You heading out for the day?” he asked, a small smile gracing his face. 

Sebastian was the one who initially interviewed you for your job. He brought a comforting presence and was a huge reason why you felt it was a no brainer for you to take the job offer. Everyone else you talked to during the hiring process had nothing but kind things to say about him, and within the past week you understood and agreed with all the compliments that were laid upon him. Matthew was a manager you had met on your first day. You didn’t know what to expect out of him, other than the fact that Sebastian had referred to him as the peace making string bean. You initially laughed at that but upon meeting him, it was an incredibly fitting description. You felt no awkwardness or uncomfortableness around him, and thoroughly enjoyed the times you’ve gotten to work with him over the past week.

“Yeah, i’m sorry, i don’t mean to interrupt, i just wanted to wish you both a good weekend,” you retorted. You hadn’t felt much fear while working around all the men you do, but the possibility that either of them could be annoyed or upset that you just interrupted their conversation stuck in your head.

“No need to apologize, thank you, y/n,” Sebastian cut in, “You go have a great weekend, and we’ll see you bright and early on Monday, yeah?” You nodded, sending one last small wave before heading out of the office and the entire building altogether.  

Your smile faded and your nerves began to pick up on your drive home. You knew better than to talk about your new coworkers with your boyfriend, in fear that he’ll get upset that you spend so much time working with mainly other men. You used to find his jealousy endearing, thinking he was just worried to lose you, but it quickly grew tiring and left you feeling guilty and scared.

Your boyfriend had the tendency to not be able to control his anger. You’d been together for close to four years now, and about halfway through that something snapped in him and changed him for the worst. Any little thing could set him off, and while throwing verbal insults at you was his main technique, he has put his hands on you more than you’d like to admit. You felt so trapped and stupid for still being in love with him. You wanted to blame this all on a rough patch and that he was just stressed out, but it’s been a few years now and you’re worried that this is how it’ll always be. You didn’t have anyone else to turn to, and if you two broke up you didn’t know where you’d even go considering there’s no way you could afford to live on your own.

As you approached and parked near your apartment building, you quickly regain your composure and gave yourself a quick pep talk. You’ve got this, just put a smile on your face and hope he’s in a good mood. This weekend doesn’t have to be horrible.

* * *

By time Monday morning came around, more than half of your body was bruised and your confidence was at an all time low. The words your boyfriend yelled at you swam around in your brain, and the pain of the punches, slaps, and kicks he planted on you were felt over your entire body. He’d never been so ruthless when it came to his beatings before and you knew it was because you didn’t shut up about work and he had figured out about how much you work with other men. You just wanted to share how good things were going, but you should’ve known how fast doing that had the potential to upset him.

He had usually been careful to avoid your face, but this time there was a prominent black eye forming and no amount of makeup would cover it so you made sure you had an excuse to give to anyone who asks what happened. You dreaded the conversations that were bound to happen as you walked into work, your anxiety at an all time high at the thought of facing both Sebastian and Matthew. 

The day started off as good as it was going to get. Every time you bent over or extended your body too far you were reminded of every hit your body took. You felt your anger rising every time you winced or had to deeply exhale. Every time something like this happened you always questioned why you put yourself through it but always come back to the two answers: as horrible as it was, you still loved him. You had such good times together and sometimes he just got angry, and most of the time you could find the blame in yourself for making him angry. Also, you were stuck. Even if you didn’t love him anymore and were actively looking for an escape, you wouldn’t be able to afford anything on your own and you would have nowhere to go.

“Y/n?” You winced at Matthew’s voice behind you. You didn’t want to turn around, but you also knew that you would come off as rude and the last thing you wanted to do was make someone else mad.

“Goodmorning Matthew,” you offered back, slowly turning around to face him. You cringed at the look on his face and quickly avoided eye contact.

“I had a couple people inform me that you had a black eye so I wanted to check for myself and lo and behold you do. Are you okay?” He asks. You wanted to laugh at the question, but instinctually nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you quickly answered, “I was cleaning this weekend and slipped while mopping the kitchen. Fell right onto the corner of my counter,” you chuckled, hoping your lie sounded realistic. He eyed you for a second longer, not seeming to buy your excuse. You could feel your heart rate spike and habitually began playing with your nails. He looked down towards your movements before looking back up to make eye contact with you which you held for a few seconds before choosing to look anywhere but his eyes. You cursed at yourself for being so obvious, but you didn’t know how else to act in this situation.

“It looks like it hurts, do you need anything?” He continued. You shook your head no, already knowing you’ve taken enough ibuprofen for the day and even that wasn’t helping too much so you just have to work through the pain.

“I’m fine, promise.”

You could tell by his expression that he was uncomfortable with the conversation and that it clearly wasn’t going the way he wanted it too, but he seemed to let it go for now with a simple “let me know if you need anything, mine and sebastian’s doors are always open” to which you thanked him and turned back around to your task. You could feel his eyes linger on you for a second longer before he walked away. You let out a deep breath, leaning your forehead against the shelf in front of you. You knew you were a horrible liar. You had even practiced for conversations exactly like that and still you sucked at lying. It’s like you couldn’t do anything right.

With one last deep sigh you attempted to get back to work, but your mind wouldn’t stop replaying the conversation over in your head. You thought of all the ways it could’ve gone, and all the other things you could’ve said to seem less suspicious. You cursed at yourself for fucking up yet another thing. 

You avoided eye contact with any other coworkers, and customers after that. Keeping your head down was your best option to not bring any more attention to yourself. Your entire body ached, including the splitting headache that was starting to form from either thinking too hard, or the throbbing that was going on around your eye. Potentially both things at the same time.

You jumped a bit at the sound of your work walkie talkie going off in your pocket.

“Hey y/n, can you come to my office when you get a chance?” The familiar sound of Sebastian's voice rang through the area you stood in. Your heart dropped, the idea of being in a small room with a man not seeming like the best idea, but he was also your boss and you couldn’t just say no.

“Yeah, i’ll be there in just a minute,” you responded, quickly starting to clean up the little mess you had created in your work area before taking your sweet time walking to Sebastian’s office. You know it was ridiculous to even think that he was going to hurt you, but after the weekend you had it was going to take a bit of time to not be uncomfortable around anyone and everyone. 

The sound of both Matthew and Sebastian’s voice rang in your ears as you approached the office. You heard the last bit of what Matthew was saying and instantly had the urge to just run out of the building altogether. 

“I’m telling you Seb, this isn’t a slip-in-the-kitchen black eye, this is a black eye you get when someone punches you. I’m surprised her nose isn’t broken or something.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry. You tried to build yourself up, thinking of every excuse you could and practicing every reassuring sentence you could think of that might get them off your back. It wasn’t their business after all, right?

With one last deep breath, you knocked on the cracked open door and slowly stepped through it. Your eyes were instantly drawn to Sebastian and the stern face he held. His eyes scanned your face before unintentionally running down your body as if to look for any other exposed bruises. His face loosened up upon returning back to your frightened gaze.

“Everything okay? Am i in trouble or something?” you asked, looking in between the two men. Your body felt like it was on fire from both the bruises covering it, and the intense gaze you were receiving from both of them. Their gazes softened a bit more at your question as they both shook their heads, shutting down the idea that i was in trouble.

“No, no y/n, you’ve done nothing wrong. I just wanted to check in on you, with this black eye and all. I know Matthew’s already checked in on you, but i just wanted to see how you are doing,” Sebastian spoke up. You looked between the both of them and felt a bit of anger rise at the uncomfortable situation you’ve been put into. You told Matthew you were fine, why couldn’t he have just kept to himself?

“Like i told Matthew earlier, i’m fine, just fell is all,” you retorted, sending a small glance at Matthew hoping he would get the hint that you weren’t too happy about this conversation. 

“Looks like more than a fall,” Sebastian continued to say while standing up to lean against his desk. You unintentionally moved back a bit, not taking much notice of your own actions over your heartbeat being the only thing you could currently hear. Sebastian and Matthew shared a look before Sebastian took a step away from his desk, approaching you a bit more. You flinched and took another step back, accidentally backing right into the doorknob hitting a big bruise that covered your lower back. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips as you brought a hand back to cover the spot you had just bumped trying to release some of the pain by rubbing it. 

Sebastian was quick to retreat as he watched you fully flinch away from him. He was more than four feet away from you even when he did take a few steps towards you, but your reaction was enough for him to confirm some of his suspicions. 

“Hey Matthew, do you think we could have the room?” Sebastian asked, getting a curt nod from Matthew as he looked back towards you and offered you a sympathetic smile. Honestly you didn’t want that. You didn’t want anyone's sympathetic or pitiful looks. You deserved everything that happened to you. You could feel tears forming in your eyes and instantly felt shameful. You made a pact with yourself to not show weakness and it’s only taken you a week or so and your emotions are already coming through.

You continuously blinked, willing your tears to go away as you scooted away from the door allowing Matthew to leave the room. Sebastian gestured at a chair near him and you hesitated to take it. You knew it would hurt to sit down and that there was no hiding the grimaces, but the look in Sebastian's eyes let you know that he’s already caught on to a lot of what's going on. 

You approached the chair and slowly sat down, trying to hold back how much pain you felt from putting pressure on the bruise on your tailbone and the one on the back of your left thigh.

“Are you safe?” was the first question he asked you, and before you could even think you habitually nodded. You knew it was a lie, and deep down you knew things were just going to get worse. You’d never seen your boyfriend as mad as he was over the weekend. It was like a constant where he’d just see you and see red. You walked on eggshells all weekend, and even before you left for work today you felt as if you weren’t allowed to take up any space. You were the furthest thing from safe. You looked up and made eye contact with Sebastian and instantly regretted it. The tears that you had managed to push back made their way to your eyes quicker than ever and fell before you had the chance to hide them.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered out, covering your face. You were humiliated that all of this was going on. You had gotten away with covering bruises and hiding emotions from all your coworkers at your previous job. The attention you were receiving now made you think maybe everyone you previously worked with were just assholes, but also that you would rather be ignored than be seen how you are right now. 

“y/n... why are you apologizing?” he breathed out, scooting his chair a bit closer to yours.

“I made a pact not to cry and here i am a week in and already crying in front of you.” 

“Well you’re clearly crying about something important so why don’t you tell me about that,” you shook your head, looking up at him for the first time since you started crying. You could feel a sob escaping your mouth before you could push it back down while shaking your head back and forth. 

“I can’t tell you,” you sobbed out.

“Listen, I know your outside life isn’t any of my business, but I also care about every employee in this building and seeing you come in with a black eye and clearly other bruises on your body, I’m just worried.”

You sat there for a second contemplating all of your choices. You could continue to lie and push everything back stating that he was indeed right, your outside life was none of his business, or you could tell him the truth and let him in on one of your deepest secrets. You could feel your head pounding, and you could hear your heartbeat grow erratic. Your tears had momentarily stopped but now your entire body was in panic mode. You couldn’t continue to make eye contact with him and instead chose to look down at your hands in your lap. 

“I’ll lose everything. It’s either this or nothing, Sebastian. I’m fine, i’ve been fine,” you offered up. You weren’t lying, but even what you said felt wrong coming out. how did you end up like this? How stupid are you to let yourself get this deep in the abuse and the relationship altogether?

“Hey, please look at me,” he scooted even closer, his knees nearly touching your own. His voice was soft, almost pleading so you gave in and lifted your head. You weren’t used to being talked so gently to, “Is your partner the one doing this to you?” he grimaced a bit at the question, almost like he felt bad even suggesting that incase he was wrong, but the way his body tensed up at your eyes quickly averting away from him you knew he got his answer.

“He loves me. I just do and say things that he doesn’t like,” you shrugged as if what you just said wasn’t a major problem. Your eyes began to fill with tears again and you let out an annoyed huff, “I’m sorry Sebastian, i really shouldn’t be telling you any of this. There’s nothing you can do to help me. I’ve grown used to the fact that i am stuck in my relationship.”

“y/n please look at me,” he asked again, seemingly satisfied when you complied, “just that sentence alone is enough to scare me. A grown man, hell even a child knows not to hit other people. There’s nothing normal about this situation and you need to get out of it. I’m not going to sit here and say it’ll be smooth sailing and that you’ll instantly be happy once it’s over, but for your own safety and livelihood i need you to know that it’s not your fault that he’s hurting you. There’s nothing you could do or say to justify the pain you’re in right now.”

You wanted to fight him on that but the look on his face told you to not even try. He seemed genuinely upset, distraught even. 

“What am i supposed to do?” you ask, throwing your hands up to gesture your frustration. 

“Do you have anyone else you can stay with?” you shook your head no, informing him that the only reason you moved up here was so your boyfriend could get you away from your loved ones. He grunted at that, rolling his chair back so he was back near his desk. He started to search something on his computer and the looks of a hotel made your eyes go wide.

“I can’t put anything like that on my card. He’ll see it and freak.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to pay for this. I’ll pay for it so it’ll have no trace to your name. So there’s your living situation for a while until we can get you something better. I will also happily help you with getting any of your belongings out of your current place. My close buddy is a police here in town and can also accompany us to ensure your absolute safety because there’s no guarantee without him that i wouldn’t beat the shit out of your boyfriend,” he talked so casually like what he was saying wasn’t changing your entire life. You shook your head not being able to wrap your mind around this true chance to get away from your boyfriend. There’s so many things that could go wrong, would all of this be worth it when there’s always that possibility that your boyfriend could absolutely lose it and want to actually kill you? There’s so many stories out there of partners exactly like your boyfriend that won’t take a break up seriously and come back to stalk, hurt and kill their exes. would you end up just another one of those damaged ex girlfriends?

The two of you sat in silence for a minute before he finally looked away from his computer screen and looked at your frightened face. He would never understand how your mind works through this terrible situation but he so badly wanted to help. 

“Why are you willing to help me so much?” You manage to ask. You look up at him and see something flash over his expression before it goes back to being soft. 

“You’re worth more than you think. You’re sure as hell worth more than being beaten down by scum. I care, i know matthew cares, even the others who brought up your black eye to both of us care. You just haven't been shown affection like that in who knows how long and think i’m doing something crazy here when really i just want you to be safe and happy. it’s what any decent human wants for everyone else.”

For the first time in years you had the urge to hug. You wanted to throw your arms around Sebastian and say a million thank yous, but you didn’t want to overstep.

“Sebastian i just - i don’t know what to say,” you chuckled out through the few tears that slipped out. 

“You don’t have to say anything, let’s just talk over this a bit, i’ll give my friend a call and we’ll get a plan set up.” you nodded as you both stood up. Your legs felt weak and the pain of standing straight up was overwhelming but you sufficed through. 

He watched how you moved and a deep frown covered his face. Your previous thoughts of overstepped evacuated your mind and without thinking you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around him. It took a second for him to register what was going on, but he was gentle to wrap his arms around your back. You felt tense, but the second he reciprocated the hug your body loosened up and a small sense of happiness floated throughout your entire being. Everything was going to change. You were actually going to do this. There was so much that was going to happen, but for the first time in forever you felt relieved so for now, you were just going to embrace that.

A/N - please let me know if i should do another part to this! I do have more ideas for the storyline that would involve more of a relationship between the reader and sebastian, but i don’t want to do it if no one else wants that hahah

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 2

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of drug abuse, swearing, suggestive NSFW content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster

No, we won't tell a soul where we gone to

Girl, we do whatever we want to

Ah, I love the way that you do me

Cherry, babe, you really get to me

~ Neil Diamond - Cherry, Cherry ~

It had already been pretty late when they had finally left the O2 arena and made their way into the heart of the city. They’d just had enough time to order something to eat at one of their favourite restaurants at the still bustling Heron Tower before last orders were called.

None of them being in the mood to go home just yet, they had taken a cab to Mayfair for an opportunity to wind down from the high of their show. Ethan had wanted to join them, but had waved them away after checking his phone, mumbling something about a lot of work waiting for him in the morning.

No one was particularly sad about Skye’s dad opting out, however; they were currently making their way past the line of people queuing up in front of the nightclub they had chosen for the evening. Orion wasn’t a fan of crowded dancefloors and music he didn’t like blaring so loudly he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, but had bowed to the will of the others.

Many people considered the glitz and glamour that came with being famous as a perk; he just found it shallow and irritating. However, he was still too wound up to just return to his flat; he hadn’t seen his friends in weeks and was looking forward to properly catching up with them. Even if it wasn’t his preferred location for sharing talk and laughter, nothing was perfect after all.

As expected, music washed over them the moment they entered the building and the air grew increasingly warmer as they were led deeper into the bowels of the club. He could see Everett checking out the women on the dancefloor as they walked past, while Lizzie was slightly nodding her head to the music; naturally, she wasn’t able to resist a compelling beat.

The uncomfortably loud volume lessened to a more agreeable level when they arrived at their designated table in the private area. Their first round of drinks hadn’t even arrived yet, when Everett rose from his seat again and left for the dancefloor; none of them had any desire to join him. Lizzie had been considering it for a moment, but Orion knew how exhausted she must be from their performance. His own muscles were burning with fatigue, he could only imagine how she must feel.

Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of stories to tell; before their break, they had spent every day together for months on end, making a span of four weeks feel like an eternity and a blink of an eye at the same time. Skye was telling them about the side project she had started with her brothers while Merula spoke about her dabbling into poetry. Lizzie had spent the whole four weeks in the States with her brother and had brought back quite an assortment of stories to tell.

Orion himself had travelled a fair bit as well; there was nothing sparking his creativity like visiting new places with a clean and open mind. Thanks to a surge of inspiration, the songs for their next album were coming along greatly. Although they were still far from what Orion considered good enough to openly share them, he was satisfied with the progress.

When Everett returned after some time, the atmosphere cooled noticeably. Hanging from his arm was a girl with long brown hair, who was looking at Everett as if he was Keith Richards and Kurt Cobain combined. She was dolled up to a ridiculous degree, with heels as high as her dress was short.

Glancing down at her simple dark jeans and top, Lizzie chuckled to herself. “Now I feel underdressed.”

“If anyone is underdressed, that would be her,” Merula muttered, eyeing the hem of the girl’s dress, which barely covered her bum, with an arched eyebrow.

As she and Everett sat down next to Lizzie, the contrast between the girl’s artificial look and Lizzie’s more natural beauty couldn’t have been greater. Orion would probably never stop wondering why women felt the need to distort their looks in such a way.

Real beauty was not something to be put on and worn on display, forced about with flashy jewellery and an absurd amount of makeup; it was like light shining from the inside. It illuminated everything around it, drawing eyes without even trying to.

Their conversations all but ceased as Everett started boasting about their band’s success, his impact on their music and the solo career he had been fantasising about ever since Orion could remember.

Orion had to bite back a laugh as he saw Skye mimicking Everett’s expression when he didn’t look her way. Granted, he was a passable guitarist and talented singer. None of the other band members had the way of enticing the crowd and holding their attention like Everett did; nor did any one of them want to. He was about show and performance, the way he liked to celebrate himself all smoke and mirrors, but this didn’t stop his act increasingly getting on all of their nerves.

Everett didn’t use to be that way back when he had joined Equinox; while he had always been a charismatic guy, their continuous success had started getting to his head. Judging by his erratic gestures and slurred speech, Orion wouldn’t bet on alcohol being the only thing he had coursing through his system and clouding his view on things at the moment.

It wasn’t long, however, before Everett eventually decided he'd had enough of them.

Ignoring the annoyed looks of his friends, he and his girl had started making out right next to them. After a while she giggled, pulled on his sleeve and whispered something into his ear. Without sparing them so much as another glance, Everett got up and pulled her along towards the exit. There was a collective sigh going through the group after they had left.

“Fuck it, a few more minutes and she’d taken her bra off,” Merula muttered.

Lizzie shuddered. “No need, it’s not like she was wearing one.”

Skye shook her head. “I don’t get it, what do they all see in him? He’s not even that good looking.”

“You don’t find any man good looking,” Lizzie answered wryly while taking a sip of her almost empty drink.

“Fair enough,” Skye shot back, blowing her a kiss over the table. Lizzie rolled her eyes, but had to laugh anyway.

“I see what you mean, though,” she continued a moment later. “He’s been getting downright nasty lately. The way he was talking to Charlie during the feedback round? That was so unnecessary; a little more and Charlie might have hit him.”

“He’d never,” Skye chuckled. “It takes more than Ev to rile someone like Charlie up. That would be like Orion punching someone.”

They laughed at the ridiculousness of that idea. Skye was right though, Lizzie thought. While Charlie had been offended at suggesting his work wasn’t absolutely flawless and up to his own standard, it wasn’t like him to lose his cool over something like that.

“Like anyone pursuing what they love with a passion, Charlie does care about his work deeply,” Orion picked the conversation up again, “it is only natural to feel defensive when attacked. When you pour your heart and soul into something, it doesn’t matter if the results or yourself are doubted; it comes down to the same thing.”

“Maybe, but Charlie’s attitude is causing problems,” Merula said glumly. “As much as I hate to admit it, Ev is right; the pyros are a joke since Charlie’s doing two jobs at the same time.”

Lizzie immediately jumped to her friend’s defence. “It’s only temporary; he’ll concentrate on sound as soon as a proper replacement is found.”

Merula snorted in response. “I’m not sure there is anyone Charlie would be happy with who’s not himself.”

“Giving up something you love to the care of someone else is no easy feat,” Orion conceded, “but Murphy said it himself, they have a new applicant in for an interview tomorrow. If they meet him with an open mind, maybe we’ll have the newest member of our crew faster than we think.”

Merula’s answer was cut short by the waitress approaching their table carrying a fresh round of drinks. She handed them out and was about to leave, when she turned around again. Hesitating for a moment, she blushed a little, the change in her skin colour barely visible in the dimmed lights of the nightclub.

“Excuse me if I’m rude or anything, I really don’t want to disturb you,” she mumbled, looking visibly flustered, “but you are the guys from Equinox, aren’t you? The rock band?”

Skye grinned. “Right you are. You a fan?”

The waitress’s eyes lit up. “A fan? Are you kidding? I adore your music! I’ve got tickets for your show tomorrow and can’t wait! It’s such an honour to have you here tonight.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Lizzie smiled, idly stirring her cherry margarita with the cherry that had come as decoration.

The eyes of the waitress followed the swirls she was creating in the dark liquid. She was visibly gathering her courage before blurting out, “Is it true what’s written on your website? On your character profile?”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows in confusion. “Pardon me?”

The girl started blushing again. “In the misc-section, you know. They’ve written you could tie a cherry stem with your tongue; I’ve never met anyone who can do that.”

Now it was Lizzie’s turn to blush and hide her face behind her hand; sitting directly next to her, Orion could see that she was laughing behind her fingers.

“I knew I should have never told anyone about this,” she sighed, “I had no idea Ethan had them put this on my damn profile.”

“Shut up, you can’t really do that,” Skye exclaimed incredulously. “No way that’s true.”

Lizzie furrowed her brow. “Of course it is.”

“You never told me about that.”

“Why would I?”

“Then why did you tell dad?”

“He asked,” Lizzie shrugged.

Now it was Merula’s turn to look incredulous. “Ethan asked you if you could tie a cherry stem?”

Lizzie snorted. “He asked if I could do a party trick.”

Skye crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back in her seat. She nodded at the cherry between Lizzie’s fingers. “Prove it.”

Amused, Lizzie tilted her head. “What, right now?”

“Scared I’ll call you out, Jameson?”

Her eyes sparkling in prospect of a challenge, Lizzie plucked the stem off the cherry and twirled it between her fingers. “Watch it, Parkin.”

She flashed the still sceptical looking Skye a mischievous grin before she let the cherry stem disappear behind her lips. She knew everyone was watching her intently and Orion could see she was trying not to smirk.

He himself was so concentrated on whether she would succeed or not, he was caught completely off guard when he suddenly felt Lizzie’s hand coming to rest on his knee beneath the table. His breath hitched as she was squeezing it lightly. He had to bite his cheek as her fingers started grazing the inside of his thigh in slow circles, her hand steadily dancing higher and higher. All the while, she was keeping a straight face, her blue eyes fixed on Skye.

Orion couldn’t believe what she was doing; he took a deep breath that came out a lot shakier than he had meant it to.

Just before he had to stop her wandering fingers, she retracted her hand abruptly. Her eyes flickering towards him for the briefest of moments, she pursed her lips and pulled the now doubly tied cherry stem from between them in a deliberately slow motion. With a confident smile, she flicked it at Skye, whose jaw had dropped open.

“Teach me,” was all she managed to say before Lizzie broke into laughter.

“That’s my secret technique, Parkin; I’m not sharing.”

Lizzie leaned back in her seat, visibly satisfied with herself. Judging by the devilish smile playing around her lips, it was not only because she had proven Skye wrong.

Orion closed his eyes for a moment and brushed his hair out of his face to give his fingers something to do. While Lizzie and Skye were bantering back and forth, Orion was counting to fifty in his head in an attempt to reign his thoughts in again.

Just when he thought he had himself back under control again, Lizzie leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand while appearing to listen to Merula attentively. What the others could not see was her using her shift in position to press her leg against his. The cheeky smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth was hidden by her hand, only visible to him.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Orion moved himself out of her reach. “As much as I would love to stay with you, my friends, I’m afraid tonight’s show has taken more of a toll on me than I thought,” he explained at Merula’s and Skye’s confused expressions; Lizzie was merely blinking at him innocently. “If you don’t mind, I’ll head back home to get some well deserved rest.”

Without waiting for any of them to reply, Orion quickly turned around and left for the exit, all the while feeling Lizzie’s eyes on his back.

[isuspectyouhavefantheories]

Search for the Sun 🌞

So this is Part 2 of “the Sun” series.

Part 1 found : https://isuspectyouhavefantheories.tumblr.com/post/640838971892662272/the-crossroads-to-the-sun here!

Ok so, NSFW, I can’t figure out how to make this appear shorter or have it appear under the cut cus mobile Tumblr sucks eggs. You heard me.

Takemura/Female V fic

Rated MA, for mature, sexual themes, read at own risk.

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Somewhere in the Mojave....

“We need a new carburettor for this thing V and someone’s gonna have to re-solder this whole board before we can even do that! We aren’t going to be getting our cargo vans very far like.” Saul sighed, closing the hood of the large van with a heavy thud as he wiped the grease and dust from his hands. His expression was his usual deeply worried frown and she noticed how even as he wiped his hands clean they remained oil stained and grubby. He’d been toiling over engines all day, putting one fire out after another.

“I’ll see what Mitch and I can do but it’s gonna take a little while. We’re already trying to get a handle on repairs to the solar panels and honestly that’s the thing I want to make sure we have fixed before night fall. We can stop for the night, recuperate.” She gave him a pointed look that he only waived off. “I’ll fix up the vans in the morning and we can get going after. We have some time before the next storm, quit your worrying.” V offered, punching his arm lightly, Saul only smiled in return.

“How’d you end up being my second in command? I thought that was supposed to be Panam?” He chuckled.

“She’s got her hands full at the moment.”

“With?”

“Dick.”

Saul balked at her and V only waggled her eyebrows, nodding her head in the direction of a lightly rocking AV on the outskirts of camp.

“Incidentally, his name is also Dick.” She chuckled.

“God damnit, PANAM!” She watched in mild amusement as Saul stormed away toward the aforementioned vehicle to reprimand his second for her blatant public fornication. So she heaved herself forward, ignoring the mild ache in her body and forcing her legs and arms to continue obeying her. V decided that she would save herself the mental anguish of tangling with the solar grid and get out of camp for an hour at the least. Evidently fighting burning migraines and muscle spasms was trying at the best of times, especially when attempting to keep up with her duties to the clan.

She didn’t want to sit around and be a burden on them, regardless of Saul and Panam’s insistence on her getting more rest. In truth, she loathed inactivity, too much time to start thinking, or worse, listening to Johnny, who was still holding out the hope she was going to turn the clan around and storm Mikoshi instead of this slow shicide she had carved out for herself instead. The twilight hours were the worst, because there was nothing she could do, hours she had spent staring at her tent roof, only to give up and lay under the stars, at least then she had something to occupy her. It had been especially hard the last few nights and she had more than once woken to Saul staring down at her with a worried look she would wave off and tell him that really, she was fine, dusting the sand from her and continuing on with her day at camp.

She admired the location for what it was, they had chosen a decent spot for the camp and they had some useful vantage points. Any Raffen trying to get the jump on them would be in for a surprise, they’d see their asses a mile wide.

She pulled Evelyn’s cigarette case from her utility belt pocket, igniting it with a match she then shook out to extinguish as she breathed a long drag.

“Fuuuck.” Johnny groaned appreciatively.

“You’re welcome.” She laughed as she gazed at the expanse of the desert. It’s wild beauty marred by burnt out car wrecks and pile upon pile of garbage. Her eyes landed on yet another old ruined petrol station. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to the week previous. Her night with Takemura had been everything to her. Laying there in his arms, basking in the beautiful aftermath listening to him breath as he slept, watching the steady rise and fall of his partially plated chest. She had wanted nothing more in the world than to just stay there in that abandoned truck stop, for the rest of their lives they could be there and she’d have been the happiest woman alive. But as she stared down at his sleeping face she knew she was living a pipe dream.

He was loyal to the bone to Arasaka. She would never be enough, she could never pry those chains from him. Even knowing what she had told him, about Hanako and Saburo, she imagined he had dusted himself off the next morning and returned to his master tail between his legs like the well trained guard dog they made him into. Why wait until morning to watch him fumble and ruin a perfectly good fuck, one for the history books, by seeing him slink back to the clutches of the Emperor’s family? Just to feel the raw sting of his departure, the rejection in his blind obedience to the people that saw him only as a pawn to be played. No. She decided to rip the proverbial band aid off. She was a quiet and stealthy thief, expertly manoeuvring around him in silence and then pushing her thorton far enough out of ear shot from him then just... driving away. She had to admit, it was shitty. To just leave him there without so much as a goodbye. But she knew if she had waited it would have been another day of trying to convince him to let her go.

Or he might have even managed to convince you to go back to Arasaka.

Johnny’s interjection to her train of thought startled her and she watched him materialise, cigarette in hand, perching with his legs dangling from a delapidated hoodoo rock a few yards in front of her.

“I wouldn’t have gone with him Johnny. I wasn’t going to just let them shred you into bits, fuck man, gotta give me more credit than that.” She was annoyed he could even insinuate such a thing, especially given where they now stood.

“You didn’t take your blockers during your little roll around with Mr Miyagi.” He groaned and her cheeks immediately flushed a deep crimson. “I know you were thinking it for a moment there in the... aftermath.” He sighed, looking down at her from his perch.

He took off his aviators and pursed his lips as if he was about to say something pivotal to the narrative but more than likely just as irritating as his previous comment so he decidedly closed his mouth, thinking better of it and returning his gaze to the endless desert plains. The fact that she could read him so well now was not lost on her.

“I wasn’t going to let them hurt you. Believe it or not you’re my friend, Johnny.” He glanced down at her again and a smile attempted to tug at the corner of his lips but he put his shades back on and coughed into his closed fist to cover it up.

“Well thanks. I guess. Doesn’t matter now anyway. We’re done for as is I suppose.” He breathed out a plume of holographic smoke that seemed to float off into the desert. “But you’re still thinking about him.” He deadpanned, making her sigh in irritation.

“Look.. it just kills me because... Goro was my friend too. And now he’s...” she smoothed her hair back from her face, letting her hand slide to the nape of her neck and head drooping down to look at her weathered and scuffed steel toe boots, her tool belt slung across her hips, held together by the tied sleeves of her blue net running jumpsuit she had to wear half down due to being in the beating sun while working all day. She could see her skin was already blistered with another light sunburn but also some sun freckles newly blooming. Her hands, more calloused and rough now than in her entire career as an amateur merc. She frowned. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now Johnny. I know that I shouldn’t keep living in the past but... let me at least mourn. Please?”

“Alright, alright. I get it. Here, just take some advice from a guy who’s had to... leave behind a few broken hearts in his day. Get drunk. Get fucked. Get angry. Get over it. Always worked for me anyhow.” She rolled her eyes at the rocker boy, letting her hand fall to her side, taking the last drag of her cigarette wasn’t even appealing to her so she quickly flicked it away.

“Aw.” Johnny grumbled. “The cherry is the best bit!” He whined but she ignored him. V made to turn back to the camp but some faint movement along the horizon caught her eye. She pulled out her binoculars and got as close as she could to the slightly glimmering and fast approaching object. Upon closer inspection she realised it was a car. And not just any car.

His car.

She froze, glued to the vehicle rapidly approaching the camp.

What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

-———

He admitted to a small amount of apprehension about this move to approach head on as he pulled up alongside the Basilisk, giving it a long stare and praying silently to whatever gods were out there watching over him that he had found the right Nomad camp this time. He had already had to blast his way out of two raffen pits as of yesterday and wasn’t thrilled about the possibility of having to do so again.

A tap on his car window brought him from his thoughts and he rolled it down.

“What brings you here, friend?” Mitch asked, Saul and Panam on the sidelines, iron at the ready.

“I apologise for the intrusion. I mean you no harm, I am simply attempting to locate someone. A friend.” He explained.

“Who’s your friend?” Saul called after him.

“Her name is V.” The Nomads grew quiet, looking between each other. “Perhaps she has passed by here? Stopped for supplies?”

“Excuse me?” Panam sputtered.

“V doesn’t have ties to Arasaka anymore. Suggest you move on.” Saul moved closer to the car window, pushing past Mitch.

He leaned his arm against the top of the car door frame, letting his revolver rest against it in a menacing if threatening show of dominance. This here was the Aldecaldos stomping ground. And he’d be dead in the ground before he let some corpo asshole get their hands on V. Takemura’s eyes hardened a moment on the large nomad, his hands righting on the wheel now as he internally scanned the area with what limited tech he still had to work with. She searched for her signature but either his implants were all now truly offline or she wasn’t here.

“I am not with Arasaka.” Takemura thought he would feel pain at uttering those words, but if anything, each word made him feel lighter.

“Yeah sure. Just covered in Arasaka cyberware, driving around on Arasaka wheels, wearing a full on uniform for their security detail. Totally.” Panam quipped.

Takemura sighed.

“Anymore.” He amended, but the trio still eyed him sceptically, he felt it best he stayed in the car for now.

“Is she here?” He questioned, quickly surveying the camp to try and find her himself, a small kernel of hope planting in his chest as he looked through the small crowd that had gathered by them, hopeful to catch a glimpse of her but Saul’s hand reached out for him roughly, pulling him up to the open window by the front of his shirt with a resounding clunk.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at here but if you think for a second I’m just gonna let you-.”

“Saul. Stop. It’s cool.” Takemura’s head whipped over Saul’s shoulder to the source of the voice. His heart clenched painfully upon seeing V finally.

She was a vision. Almost like a beautiful mirage that had been conjured up by the desert heat and his possible dehydration but upon closer inspection he knew it had to be her. Her every freckle and scar burned into his memory, he would know here anywhere, even caked in soot and sand.

“V, come on, we don’t even know if he’s got people tailing him. We’ve already got our hands full with Militech for Christ’s sake, let’s not go adding to that pile.” Saul glared down, unconvinced by Takemura’s own words.

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I thought he was a danger. He’s not. Please just let me talk to him.” Saul groaned but he made the mistake of meeting her gaze and knew there was no telling her no so he released Goro and opened the door to the car.

“Out. Follow her.” Saul grumbled, hand still leaning against the top of the door, but before Takemura could step out funny a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Try and pull any funny shit though and I’ll drop your ass myself. No hesitation.” Takemura hadn’t realised just how big Saul was before but did not let that deter him.

“I will be sure to keep it in mind.” Goro responded in an uninterested tone, not really registering him, only focusing on V, before quickly making his way to her side. He reached out for her but she had already turned away and was walking up to a trailer, ascending a small flight of stairs before reaching the screen door. She threw him a look over her shoulder and motioned with her head for him to follow.

—————-

Once inside the privacy of the trailer V rounded on him, her eyes filled with confusion and anger.

“What the fuck, Goro?” She hissed. “Why are you here?”

He swallowed thickly, never realising that even through all his fighting to get back to her side, he had never even put his reasoning into words. And he had always had a defined reason for everything he did, it was something he was fucking known for. But now, standing here he couldn’t even begin to rationalise any of his actions, only that being here now already felt more right than anything in his life ever had. He opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish. She noticed his silence but was quickly distracted by his haggard appearance. Her eyes widened however at the lack of the dim lights on his cybernetics.

She reached for him cautiously, her fingertips brushing against the red outer wiring of his throat that no longer glowed with the hum of electronics and now simply shined in the dim light, essentially now just useless plastic.

“Your implants...” she whispered, tracing her finger down the line of the metal overlay of his neck and to the edge of his jaw, Goro watching her every motion with laser focus. “Why are they..?”

“They were deactivated when I failed to return a few days ago.” he wanted to reach for her, to touch her, that’s all he’s thought about day and night since she left him. “I was starting to think I was going to die out there before I found you.” He chuckled softly yet he inwardly savoured how close she was, her scent, near unchanged since their night together. The scent was now infused with a small background of motor oil now that clingged to her hands but it was strangely fitting for her.

“Why?” She whispered angrily at him, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

He raised his own hand now to weave with hers, holding it to his heart as he stared down at her with so much sureness, so much care and devotion that she felt unworthy.

“I defected, V.” Her eyes widened at him but still she said nothing. “I am... I can’t go back. If you only have a short time left, then... there isn’t anywhere else I want to be. I want to be here with you, I don’t want to miss a second of you ever again. I-.” He closed his eyes, terrified to see her reaction but was nearly sent spinning as she thrust herself without warning at him, her arms suddenly wrapping around his shoulders. His own arms instinctively wrapped around her, returning the embrace yet part of him still feared the worst.

Did she pity him? Is that why she said nothing? Was this her letting him down gently? She was always too kind for her own good.

“Goro... oh my god.” She breathed against him and he tightened his grip around her burying his face in her neck, breathing her in deeply. Feelings of peace, serenity, a meaning in his life he had been searching for ever since he escaped the slaughter house of Chiba-11. He thought that meaning was to serve those who had uplifted him from that barbaric place. But they didn’t save him. They used him.

It was this tiny trembling powerhouse of a woman that barrel assed her way into his life and irrevocably entangled herself with him, she had been the one who reignited his purpose. Opened his eyes and never lied to him. She had never left him behind. Only when she thought he was truly beyond her reach did she finally resign herself to letting him go.

But now, in the security of her arms, he knew he was never going to let that happen again.

“I can’t believe I finally found you...” he breathed, letting the feeling of her arms around him be engraved deeply in his heart, the lines on his face began slowly relaxing as he stroked the dip of her back gently.

V finally looked up at him and he swiped away some stray tears from her slightly flushed cheeks with a curled finger before caressing them in his hand fully. He stared down at her with an adoration she had never imagined him capable of, it felt to her as though she had never been truly seen before now and could only grasp his outstretched arm and reach for the back of his head pulling his face closer to hers when he finally moved forward, reuniting her lips with his in a passionate kiss. Her fingertips grazed over his jaw lightly, drawing a sigh from him and letting it meld into the kiss as he tried desperately to hold her closer.

She pulled back from him but his lips trailed after hers again, loathed to be parted from her just yet, but she placed two fingers on his lips to halt his pursuit and worry shot through him again.

“I think we should explain to the clan before Saul comes in here and decks you.” She chuckled, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek sweetly and he leaned into her touch, the sudden panic receeding, before smiling back at her and nodding. She made to move to the door, hand already pulling the handle open when his own grasped her free one and interlaced their fingers, grinning like a cat down at her.

“So they don’t shoot me on sight.” He joked, V could only huff lightly but her own smirk betrayed her feigned annoyance.

“Hush. Be nice.” She snipped.

They stepped out of the trailer and at the bottom of the stairs to the trailer was the holy Aldecaldos trinity themselves. Panam looked between the two and their interlock hands with mild confusion first before realisation dawned on her and she mouthed ‘that’s him?’ rather more obviously than she thought she had but never the less winked at friend.

Goro looked down at her curiously but V just shook her head.

“She’ll tell you herself at some point.” V whispered, leaving him far more confounded than before.

“So? What’s this about?” Saul stood in front of them now arms crossed but glaring heatedly at Takemura.

“Drop the tough guy act Saul come on.” She shoved him playfully but Saul only scowled deeper. “He defected.” Saul’s eyebrows rose in surprise for a moment but suspicion reaffirmed itself at the forefront of his mind once more.

“Bullshit.” Saul spat.

“I left Arasaka because I no longer believe in them.” He looked down at V’s hand in his and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I believe in V. And she has put her trust in you and your clan. I wish to stay with her. You know that... she does not have long.” She squeezed him

back at this, hearing the slight waiver in his voice at that but he continued. “I will work, I will do whatever is needed of me in order to stay by her side.” He bowed his head politely and Saul was at a loss for words, casting his gaze back to Panam and Mitch but only receiving a tired sigh and a shrug from Mitch and a rather heated scowl from Panam that said ‘if you don’t let the ninja stay I’m going go get an emp and blast an AV out of the sky again’, and Saul could only sigh tiredly. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm in a gesture of defeat but his eyes spoke an understanding and no inherent objection to the arrangement.

“Alright. You work, like the rest of us. We all pull our own weight here and there’s plenty to do.” Panam fist pumped in the air and squealed with glee, making V laugh at her antics but Saul gave her an exhausted look before grinning devilishly. “ Since there’s another mouth to feed and person to arm, we’re gonna need to do a recount on inventory. Thanks for offering to do it Panam.” Saul rounded on his heel, making for his own tent as the orange pink swash of dusk settled over the desert. Mitch followed after while Panam gave her a quick pat on the shoulder before departing to her new hell, inventory.

“Look at you guys, just the picturesque happy couple living on the edge of the law, running with nomads, being all in love and shit. Warms my cold dead pixilated heart.” Johnny drawled as he leaned up against the trailer.

V chose to ignore him but grinned Takemura wrapped his free arm around her and rested his head atop hers as he rubbed loving circles into the small of her back, she sighed into his chest and grinned like a fool. Nothing was going to bring her mood down. Not raffen, not Johnny, not the broken to shit solar panels.

She groaned suddenly at the memory of her ever growing list of chores left.

“V?” He questioned, straining his neck down to see her.

“Fucking solar grid.” She hissed ruefully into his shoulder before pulling away.

“I’ve got some solar panels to fix and a carburettor to solder before the day is over.” She groaned, but Takemura squeezed her reassuringly.

“Lead the way.” He chuckled.

“You want to help?” She asked incredulously.

He brushed his hand through her soft chocolate brown coloured locks, twirling the tail ends around her shoulders between his thumb and index. He had a feeling his new unconscious obsession was going to be her hair.

“I’m going to have to learn aren’t I?” He chuckled. “And I have a feeling I’m going to like being your student. Lead on, sensei.”

She giggled before pulling away from him, hands still interlaced as she tugged him towards the solar panels on the far side of camp.

—————

“Welcome to solar grid maintenance 101, class is in session.” She announced.

Goro sat on a rock beside the van, next to the start of the solar grid that went from the back of the van to the further reaches of the edge of their camp, with a small group of four guarding the grid perimeter at all times. He noticed a few of them giving him wary or curious looks but did his best to ignore them. He was sure in time he would seem less threatening but he knew he would only achieve this through time, example and not relying only on shows of good faith. He leaned forward, arms resting against his knees, watching as she peeled back a flexible plastic covering over the front of the panel, uncovering a plated and wired grid he assumed is what absorbed power from the Sun.

“Ok, so. You need a fully wired and calibrated solar panel, batteries, a charge controller and an inverter.” She gestured to each item in front of her. “Once you have these it’s just a matter of following instructions. Then you gotta figure out what your output is gonna be, simply calculate watt hours by using each of the electric tools and machinery’s power ratings, multiplied by the time in hours it will be running...” He continued to listen to her intently, taking mental notes as she went on and was pleasantly surprised by how much she knew. The woman was practically a walking, talking encyclopaedia for off grid living.

He imagined she had learned this with her original nomad clan.

“And... vóila!” The grid hummed to life, the electrical tickering and slight glow from the panels confirmed this. “And tomorrow you’re gonna help me dismantle, clean and stow them.” She slowly rose from her kneeling position but wobbled a bit, Takemura’s lightning fast reflexes kicked into action and he reached out to stabilise her. She gave him a sheepish yet thankful smile.

“Are you-?”

“Just light headed, I stood up to fast.” His levelled gaze cut through her, narrowed eyes studying her intently. “And we’ve been sitting in the sun for an hour. I’d say I could go for something to eat though. Haven’t had anything since last night come to think of it.” She pulled away, attempting to move away from the subject of her health as quickly as she could, but her hand stayed resting open palmed against his chest as she stared almost through him. She still couldn’t believe he was here. Standing next to her in the flesh. She couldn’t even really fathom eating right now but she knew she had to at least try to keep her strength up. But fucking damn. Of all the ways this day was going to go, this was certainly not one of them, not that she was complaining.

His finger captured her chin and tilted her gaze to his, pulling her from her thoughts as if he could sense her inner turmoil.

“What is the expression, ‘I am here for the...’ ah.” He looked up to think an moment as if the phrase was written in the sky before seemingly finding it among the clouds and looking back down at her, grinning from ear to ear. “‘I am... ‘In this for the long haul’, as you say.” She snorted a laugh at him letting her head fall foreword against him as he pulled her further into his embrace. “So stop looking at me as if I’m going to suddenly disappear.” Her fingers squeezed his in response and she looked up resting her chin on his shoulder now.

“Promise?” She whispered, making his chest rumble in laughter.

“Yakusoku.” He affirmed before kissing her forehead loving.

————————————

They had eaten their fill of some synth beef chilli at the camps mess tent and Goro wasn’t about to disclose how much he had actually enjoyed the hot meal. Wandering around in the desert for a week he had been living off of whatever least expired protein bars and soda cans he could find, which had been almost as awful as the scop burgers and noodles in night city, but at least they had been some way warm.

They had made their way to V’s tent which was set up next to her Thorton and some work benches and a trailer with two bikes standing in it. He recognise one to be her beloved Arch and the other a gold and silver heavy terrain 700cc bike with the clans name spray painted boldly along the side of it.

“Here we are. Home sweet home I guess. For now.” She sighed, flopping down into her large sleeping cot with a heavy plop. Takemura stood awkwardly for a moment before fastening the entrance flap closed. There was a fold up chair and two electric lamps illuminating the small space. He suddenly felt out of place but V was quick to pick up on his uncharacteristic fidgeting, giving him an inquisitive glance.

“Cot’s a bit small but we can manage for tonight. Or there’s another cot in storage we can go and-.” Takemura shook his head.

“We can manage.” He grinned sheepishly and she giggled at him, taking a seat on the edge of the cot, patting the spot next to her as an invitation to join her. He took two long strides and he was at her side once again, his hand snaking around her waist as he leaned his head gently on her shoulder. Leaning into him, V interlaced their free hands together, marvelling at how well they fit together.

“You must be exhausted.” She sighed, extending her hand to his face where she swiped away a errant few strands of silver hair that escaped his otherwise well kept topknot, her cool fingers a welcome sensation against his forehead.

“Not really.” He stifled a yawn and she looked up at him pointedly, his own gaze eluding her.

“Evidently.” She chuckled, but a sudden flash of inspiration hit her and she grinned up at him.

“What are you doing?” He asked warily as she began to slink herself around to kneel in front of him, her hands running up and down his thighs in a firm yet teasing trail.

“Well we do have a lot to do in the morning and you require a good nights sleep for what’s coming.” He eyed her suspiciously but couldn’t help the small grin threatening to tug at the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t possibly let you lie awake all night and screw yourself over tomorrow.” She ran her hand over the growing bulge at the apex of his legs, which he opened wider as she settled between them.

“V...” he breathed his head beginning to loll back and eyes flutter closed, his breath hitching she she unzipped him and pulled him of the confines of his suit pants, his member springing free, already fully hard. She gave him some light pumps, enclosing her fist around as much of him as she could. He wasn’t a monster in size, but impressive.

“Speaking of impressive cocks.” Johnny’s voice pierced her mind and she wanted to scream. “Can we leave mine out of this. Please, if yourself gonna fuck the corpo grandpa just take a fucking omega blocker so I don’t have to as well.” She shook her head and sighed, pulling away from Goro.

His eyes fluttered open.

“Is something wrong?” He breathed.

“Just gotta take something before I forget.” She smiled back at him reassuringly before popping two of the red pills.

She turned back to him and something about seeing him sitting there, disheveled clothes, cock standing to attention, lips parted and panting lightly in anticipation, sent a rush of some indescribable feeling through her system. He watched her hungrily but patient in his pining, she couldn’t help the heat between her own legs beginning to rise. She locked their gaze, lips still curved into her signature teasing grin and she began to pull off her tank top painfully slowly, dragging it up to her chest. He watched her relieve her body of the sweat and dirt stained cloth throwing it over her head and groaned lowly when he saw she wasn’t wearing anything underneath save for her tattooed flesh. Lotus flowers bloomed colourfully at her shoulders, and just between her pert little breasts. He traced them with his eyes and felt his body tense in suspense as she saunter toward him, a sultry sway in her hips saying she knew exactly what she was doing to him. She sank down to her knees again before him, her fingers wrapping around his still hard manhood making him hiss at the contact before a strangled gasp tore from his throat as she resumed pumping him again. He reached out his hand to touch her but she slapped him away lightly.

“Ah, ah, ah.” She wagged her finger tauntingly at him, then running them down his chest back down to curl back around his member, giving him a tug that made him groan once more. “Look. Don’t touch.” She then began to lower her lips to him, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as she encased him in her warm pink lips, her devilish tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cock. He moaned louder as she moved against him but forced his hand over his mouth to stifle himself. They weren’t alone out here so he had to remember to control his vocalisations but she was not making it easy.

He leaned back further down on his elbows watching her intently through hooded eyes as she devoured him, her mouth sinking down slowly, taking him all the way to the hilt letting him hit the back of her throat with an audible gag that made him whine in need then gliding back up, dragging her lips back to the tip, letting her tongue swirl around him a few times before swallowing him once again. He struggled against his urge to fist his hands into her hair as she kept up her ministrations, fearing she’d stop what she was doing, because what she was doing was so fucking good he thought he was going to die if she didn’t finish.

“V... please I’m going to....” he gasped, one hand stretched out behind him as he bit the knuckle of his other hand to surpress his cries.

He felt her chuckle against him, his end so close he could practically taste it as she continued to bob energetically against him. A few more pumps and he had to bite his knuckle so hard he drew blood so as not to roar from the force of his climax, blowing his load in her mouth which she swallowed it readily. He swore he saw stars for a moment, a blinding light show all of his own as he rode the high for as long as he could until he fell back against the cot, attempting to catch his breath as V released him from her mouth with a faint pop.

She pulled herself up and crawled over him, resting her chin against his chest that now rose and fell erratically from his ragged breathing, waiting there patiently for it to even. He lifted his head to look at her, small beads of sweat clinging to his forehead but a stupidly pleased grin now plastered his face as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb tenderly. He held her there for a moment, unsure if it was the aftermath of his climax or the low lighting of the tent, but to him, right now in all her dishevelment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. He dragged her up to him, lips meeting hers at last, tasting her felt like home, regardless of the lingering taste of himself on her lips. Goro pulled her closer to deepen the kiss before pulling away to gaze at her agin. She was the one panting now, her full pink lips, that had only a few moments been driving him to near insanity were parting enough for him so see her devilishly nimble tongue and the flush dusting her cheeks was starting to do things he didn’t know could be done, his member already twitching to life again, slowly but surely.

“You feeling more relaxed then?” Her laugh, like a tinkling bell, brought his attention back into the room and he could only smirk down at her slyly.

“Partially.” He lifted himself up fully wrapping his arms around her then flipping them so she was trapped underneath him. “But I’m afraid I’m more awake now than I was before.” He whispered, lowering his lips to suckled at her collarbone where he began to trail a searing line of bites and kisses down her chest, stopping to tease her nipples as he lavished them thoroughly, leaving her shivering and gasping uncontrollably beneath him. “The opposite of the desired effect I think.” He chuckled lowly, lifting his hand to her mouth and clamping firmly over it to quieten her mewls while he began to drag the fingers of his other hand up to the bottom half of her netrunner jumpsuit. Untying the sleeves he pulled the zipper further down to the end. It reached just above her mound, a few more inches on the zip and he’d have been able to access her. Shame, he though but immediately tugged the skintight nano plastic material down over her hips, her purple thong coming with it. He didn’t pull it all the way down, allowing the material to bunch at her knees before pulling back, letting both her legs stretch up to rest against his shoulder as he stared down at her, a shit eating grin breaking over his lips as he soaked in the sight of her, trapped in his web. She huffed at him in mild displeasure at the loss of control but her eyes widened when she felt his fingers trace her slit softly. His arm curled around her legs, anchoring them against him as he continued to tease her.

“What are you-?” He silenced her with two fingers plunging inside her, making her arch her back as she barely managed to stifle a moan. He thrust his fingers into her wetness again and again, all while his gaze fixed on her face, contorted by pleasure as he took delight in her every twitch and convulsion.

He let another finger enter her, curling them, tickling a sensitive collection of nerves inside her. Her juices dripped down his hand, his attention switching down to where his fingers pumped relentlessly and he felt himself moan at the sight of her absolutely soaking his hand. He felt his cock strain against her thigh but he ignored his growing need. He had work to do. She nearly cried out when he stopped, her eyes finally fluttered open to see him gazing down at her, smirking triumphantly above her.

“Hey.” She pouted, wiggling against him only making him chuckle quietly.

He pulled her legs free finally, tossing the jumpsuit to the far corner of the tent but trailing his hands from the underside of her thighs, to the under side of her ankles, yanking up sharply which pulled her further down the cot so her ass now rested on his lap. Her ground himself against her, his free member brushing against her slit as he draped each of her legs against either shoulder. He leaned foreword her legs stretching to rest nearly by her ears with how flexible she was. Without warning he entered her, both of them gasping quietly. He filled her so completely, V let the feeling wash over her until he began moving at an achingly slow pace. He found purchase at the head of the cot, using it to drive himself harder and harder into her. Reaching up she caressed his head in her hands, his eyes closing at the contact, savouring it, then opening again to see her.

His breath hitched in his throat, not just at the majesty of her wild curls fanned out and framing her so perfectly. Not at her being stretched and splayed out for him, like a cover pin up they used to sneak into the army barracks, back when he did foolish brazen things like that, no. The trust in her eyes. She was letting him take control, letting him take her, however he wanted. She wasn’t scanning the room for the nearest viable exit like she did in every room or so far away in her mind he wondered if she could even hear him above the noise of the engram erasing her. She was right here, willing and ready for him. He wasn’t going to last long, not after already climaxing earlier but he refused to leave her hanging, letting his thumb roll her clit firmly, over and over. He leaned forward to swallow her cries as she came undone beneath him, his own release coming not to far behind her.

He leaned back, letting her legs down on either side of his hips, but stayed connect with her. He leaned back into her, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose then her lips, making her smile sleepily against him.

“You’re still in your clothes.” She taunted against his shoulder as he chuckled.

“It’s hard to think about anything clearly with you around.” He mumbled against her neck.

“Hey, don’t you dare fall asleep on me dickhead.” She snorted, poking him enough to make him groan then move to the side, allowing her to stand up from the cot. She walked over to a duffel bag where she pulled a loose white shirt from and threw it on. The fabric reached her knees and he scoffed at how small she was.

“Oi, no sand in my bed, get those dusters off.” She ordered and he sighed, pulling himself from his bliss to shed his coat and other garments leaving him only in his boxers. He fell back into the cot heavily, rubbing his eyes as a yawn escaped his lips. She rejoined him, crawling and moulding herself into his side while his arms immediately snaked around her as he buried her face into the crook of her neck, V stroking his hair soothingly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he went to sleep without knowing where he was going to be tomorrow and not caring in the slightest.

[ships4you]

the necklace fiasco {sokka}

Requests: hi, can you do a sokka imagine, like a angst to fluff vibe with angry kissing 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Pairing: Sokka x reader

Warnings: Cursing & slight smut

Prompt: Sokka is constantly annoying the reader and one day, they snap. Sokka uses a unique strategy to calm the reader down. Which ends up causing an awkward situation for everybody.

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A HEADCANON. I’m not sure what happened, but I just kept going. So happy reading!

Sokka just really had a way of pushing your buttons.

You had spent all day cleaning up the house in Ba Sing Se you were all staying in while looking for Appa. Meanwhile, Toph and Katara were out training Aang. Sokka had disappeared earlier in the day, per usual.

“Come with me (y/n).” Sokka had begged that morning. “I will another day, our house is filthy though. I need to clean.” you said scrubbing down those mornings dishes. Aang and Katara were always good with their messes, but between Toph and Sokka the house would turn into a rats nest if you let it go for too long. “I’m going to do some training later though, so when you come back we can spar.” Sokka murmured a “yea-yea-yea.” before walking out the door.

“Aaaand, done.” You mumbled to yourself, whipping down the dust from the last countertop. You sighed, laying down on the mat on the floor, deciding to relax for a bit before your friends showed up.

Not even two minutes later Sokka strolled into the house, immediately tossing his satchel on the freshly cleaned floor.

“I’m ba-ack”

“Oh perfect, this will ease my headache.” you said sitting up, eyeing the remains that had fallen out of his bag.

“So, are you planning on making dinner anytime soon?” he leaned against the railing. He proceeded to kick off his shoes, which landed with a soft ‘clunk’. You scoffed now focusing on his discarded muddy shoes, “…Excuse me?”

“Dinner? I thought you would start by now that why I came back.”

You inhaled deeply, pushing the air out harshly from your mouth. “And where exactly did you come back from?”

He jumped up excitedly, “Oooh! I’m glad you asked!” He began rummaging through the bag, throwing its remains to the side as he searched. “Ta-dahhh!!” In his hand he held out a short thin gold necklace with gemstones along the edges.

“A necklace.”

“A necklace!”

“Soooo, what Sokka? Are you planning on wearing it to the Earth Kings ball? How much that thing anyways?!”

He shrugged, “Eh, like three silver pieces. But look!! Isn’t it pretty!!” He held the necklace against his neck, posing for you.

“You spent three silver pieces on a necklace. Sokka. I just made that money from working, two days ago! You can’t be spending everything we’ve been earning willy-nilly! That money was for food… and supplies!! And you just went off and spent it all for a silly necklace!” you fumed, pacing back and forth.

“Yea but-“

“No. No ‘buts’. You disappeared at the crack of dawn to go off and spend all our money, while I was here cleaning ALL DAY. Finally you show back up tossing your shit everywhere, tracking mud in with your shoes, and ask when dinner is going to be ready?! Are you serious?! I am sick and tired of you and your bullshit!”

Sokka set the necklace down, “My bullshit?! No one asked you to clean (y/n)! You could have come into town with me to explore, just like all the other times I asked you, but noooo. Because nothing is allowed to be fun! I was just trying to do something nice for yo-“

“Ohhh I’m sorry my version of FUN doesn’t involve living in filth and spend all of our money.” By now you were standing in front of him. “You do know that we need food to survive, right?!” you seethed, poking his chest with your finger.

“Why does this bother you so much?! You’ve never cared about this sort of stuff before.” He grabbed your wrist pulling it off of him, holding it to your side.

“Well maybe I’m just fed up with you being such a piece of shit all the time.” You lifted you’re free hand to push him away, but he reacted too quickly and grabbed a hold of your other hand.

“(y/n), you need to calm down!”

You struggled against his grip, “No!! You have been pissing me off and I have kept my mouth shut this whole time! I-“

Before you could finish he slammed his lips against yours. You thrashed for a second, fighting against his grip.

The kiss was messy at first, his nose bumping against yours. You attempted to pull away causing him to accidentally suck too hard on your bottom lip. But with his second attempt, you couldn’t help but melt into him. He let go of your wrists and grasped the sides of your face, guiding your face towards his. You clenched his tunic, tugging at the pieces of cloth.

He disconnected his lips from yours, raising his arms up, allowing you to slip his shirt over his head. He pulled you into him, kissing your lips feverishly– hands traveled down your back, cupping your ass and giving it a light squeeze. He pulled apart just long enough to groan, “Bedroom?”

“Yes.”

The two of you ran to the closest room, which happened to be yours, knowing your friends would be home anytime soon. Once the door was latched and shut behind you, he sat back on your bed pulling you towards him to steal another kiss.

“Mmm,” you pulled away, “I’m still furious at you.”

He smirked, “Yea I know.”

“And don’t think for one second-“

“Spirits, stop talking.” he growled and pulled you on top of him to straddle his waist. You spread your hands over his chest as he slid his tongue into your mouth ever so slightly. You tugged at his ponytail, brushing your fingers through his locks as they fell from their restraints. At this point he couldn’t hold back any longer. He completely lost it and began moaning into your mouth.

He slid his face down yours to tilt your chin back with his nose. Immediately latching onto your neck. You could feel the kink from the band in his hair, which you had carelessly tossed to the floor. Testing the waters, you ground your hips down into his. His hands grasped to your sides, encouraging you to continue. A whine escaped his mouth, you could feel his hot breath against your skin as he whimpered just in front of your ear. His hands began sliding underneath your shirt as you rode against him. Feeling his his boner pressing against your-

“We’re homeee!”

The sound of Aang’s voice causing you to jump off his lap, pushing Sokka off to the side.

“Shit, shit, shit.” you said.

Sokka stared you at you, his big cobalt blue eyes wide with shock. His hands held up next to his head as if he had just knocked a child unconscious. His wavy brunette fringe framing his face. How were you supposed to focus with this specimen laid out before you.

“Okay uh, you need to fix…” you glanced downwards, gesturing toward the tent in his pants, “That… And I’ll go talk to them.” you said before running out the door.

Sokka groaned falling back against your bed, hands swiping down his face.

“Hey! How was training?” you strutted from your room, carefully closing the door behind you. Aang enthusiastically told you all the new tricks he had learned that day, not questioning a thing. Katara stood there eyeing her brothers top laying on the floor and your unruly hair.

***

Dinner was a nightmare.

You and Sokka didn’t speak, just quietly finished your food. If none of them noticed earlier, they definitely could tell something was up now. Even Aang was suspicious. After dinner, Sokka left without a word.

“Sooo.” Katara said, “Are we just not going to talk about what happened earlier?”

“What?!” your eyebrows furrowed, “Nothing happened what are you talking about?”

“(y/n) don’t play dumb. I saw where you two were, I could sense it with earthbending.” Toph shuttered.

You stood up quickly, “I need some air.” you said before storming out the front door, pressing your back against its cool surface, burying your face into your hands.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Sokka standing at the base of the steps. Peachy. Just peachy.

“Hi…” you pushed yourself off the door frame, hugging your sides. “Where did you run off to?”

He walked up the steps, offering a small smile. His clothes had wet marks splattered up and down his front. His ‘warriors wolf-tail’ had loosened, causing a few strands to fall from their restraints. You couldn’t help yourself from wondering if would push you away if you were to tuck the stray hairs out of his face.w

“I went to go return the necklace.” he said tossing a bag filled with coins at you. You caught it, opening it up to find a few more copper pieces along with the three silver.

“Oh and I spent an hour tossing fish at the market.” He held his hands up, “Beware. I may smell a little fishy.” He smirked, leaning against the rail behind him.

“…Why?”

He shrugged, “You were right. I can be an ass sometimes. So, basically this is my way of saying I’m sorry. And my way of saying thank you for putting up with my bullshit, I guess.”

You sighed, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

“Not at all. I definitely needed some sense knocked into me.”

There was a slight pause as he reached up to scratch the back of his head.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “So, I’m sorry you won’t be able to wear your pretty necklace to the ball. I can make one for you if you’d like.” You smile up at him, doing your best at offering a truce.

“Oh right.” he chuckled. “That-” His eyes fixated on yours. He slid his bottom lip beneath his teeth, letting it slowly fall back out. “I uh- I actually got that for you.”

Your mouth fell open ever so slightly, unsure of what to say. “Oh… Why?”

“Honestly, cause I think you’re great. And I don’t know… I saw that necklace in the store and I just knew I wanted you to have it. I thought maybe I would give it to you and tell you how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?” you felt a surge of confidence and stepped towards him.

“I feel…” he looked you up and down, struggling to find the right words.

“Yes?” you urged him on taking another step towards him.

“I feel like I’m crazy about you.”

That was all you needed to hear. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him in. You kissed him, but different from last time. It wasn’t as rushed; you took your time, trying to engrave the memory of his swollen lips against yours. He ended it short by him pulling away.

“Woah-woah-woah wait. So are you still mad at me? Cause I want to make sure we’re good now-“

“Spirits, stop talking.” you teased before pulling him again.

Tag list: @aimee1602 @myexgirlfriendisthemoon​

[olivinesea]

Off Souls

a/n: Today we’re college Emily and we are sad. Tried for some plot this time though it doesn’t really appear til the end. Actual tw substances (lots of drinking), tw rape (not descriptive). I have a thought on continuing this but we’ll see. ~4.3k

Sorry Emily.

Emily Prentiss had her first drink was when she was eight years old. Someone handed her a half-glass of champagne as the clock counted down to midnight and a new year arrived. She wasn’t sure she liked the sharp, sour flavor but the bubbles tickled her nose. She also liked holding the pretty glass delicately between her thumb and middle finger, imitating the guests in their bright, shiny fabrics. No one noticed as she crept around the party, seeking out abandoned champagne flutes. She picked each one up, practicing a fake laugh and gesturing to invisible companions. Each imaginary conversation ended with her tilting her head back and draining the glass.

She noticed that the champagne was getting flatter but also that the taste was improving as she worked through the rooms of the ambassador’s residence. She was too young for anyone to pay attention to, the adults were wrapped up in their own affairs and feelings of excitement. Her body grew heavier and she thought she might like to sit down for awhile. She didn't know what time it was or whether it was the new year yet. She climbed onto a bench pushed against the wall. It had become a home for abandoned coats and bags.

It was hard to understand what she was seeing, objects seemed to be trying to escape. She looked at something only for it to slide away. She refocused, telling herself tables didn’t move on their own, only to have the thing slip away again. She tried closing one eye, then the other. The ground seemed to tip which didn’t make sense but maybe explained the moving furniture. She sank down onto one side, the back of her hand pressed against her mouth. Maybe being sideways would help correct the tilt of the world. It didn’t change much and she let her eyes close completely. Even with her eyes closed, the world continued to spin unpleasantly. She whimpered, weakly calling for her mother, already faintly aware that she wouldn’t appear.

Her face felt hot and she worried she might roll off the bench. Too tired to go far, she got down and pressed herself into the space underneath. Closed off from the world in most directions, she felt a little steadier. She tucked her face into the bend of her elbow to block out the remaining light. Her free hand found its way to her mouth again. She was too old to suck her thumb but it was still comforting to feel the pressure there. She found herself biting the skin around her nail beds. The acute sensation tethered her to the earth and the disturbing spinning slowed. She didn’t notice when she fell asleep.

No one found her there and it was light outside when she finally woke up. Cold and stiff from sleeping on the floorboards, she slowly slid out from under the bench. Moving carefully towards her room she tried to listen for sounds of other people in the hallways. She was afraid her mother would scold her for ruining her dress. She needn’t have worried. She threw the dress, now ripped and stained, into the trash in an effort to hide it. No one noticed that either.

By the time she entered high school, she considered herself an expert at drinking. She knew which alcohols were the easiest to mix. She knew which bottles would be noticed if they went missing (only the wines). She could forge her mother’s signature to get out of class when the afternoon looked a little too long. She could even mimic the housekeeper’s accent when the school called to confirm that she was out on an excused absence. In a fit of inspiration, she had substituted her number for her mother’s on all her school forms. That move had paid dividends over the years.

Every weekend she either had a party or went to a party. She didn’t see that as a problem. Drinking socially was fine. Maybe a little questionable at 15, but fine. The drinking that she secretly knew was wrong but continued anyway was the kind where she added gin to bottles of sparkling water and drank it throughout the day. It stung the back of her throat but she came to associate that feeling with a pleasant detachment. She could ignore her mother’s criticisms with the buzz of gin in her ears. She could ignore how lonely she felt when wrapped up in the warmth of the friendly bubbles.

She went through high school becoming more and more attached to alcohol. There were other things to try, different drugs filtered through the prep school community. She didn’t mind them but she always returned to drinking. Drinking was familiar. Drinking made her comfortable. She didn’t see any reason to mess with a good thing. She never noticed how her mood swung in tandem with her access to alcohol. She never noticed how she drank more after fighting with her mother. For her, drinking and feelings were separate. Feelings were messy and embarrassing. Drinking conquered feelings and she wanted nothing more than to conquer those permanently.

~~~

By the time she met Aaron Hotchner, she couldn't remember the last time she went more than a few days without a drink. Sobriety was a state to escape from. Sobriety meant clear thoughts and clear thoughts meant the harsh, criticizing voice in her mind reminding her of all her failures. Better to drown than to listen to that. Her grades might have been slipping but she’d have to feel to care and she was in the business of not feeling. Meeting someone else so deeply committed to avoiding their feelings was a gift from the universe.

She liked that he was smart and she liked how his face looked when he was surprised. She liked it when he frowned at her because even displeased she could tell that he enjoyed spending time with her. She couldn’t name a single other person who genuinely enjoyed her company. She had never had any close friends. People she partied with, certainly. It was easy to be popular with a rich, absent mother and no curfew. But none of those people had cared about her as a person, nor had she cared about them. They were all just using each other to satisfy their own needs.

He was different. He asked her questions and listened to her answers. Sometimes he was incredulous at her responses and sometimes she embellished her stories just to watch him get worked up at the idea of taking the embassy jet to Norway for her 13th birthday (she flew commercial) or hiring a full-time zookeeper for her spotted genets (she had to pay the housekeeper’s nephew to feed her cat when they went out of town).

When he first suggested that she might want to drink less she laughed at him and finished the bottle of wine she had been drinking from. When she turned up hungover to class the next morning he didn't say anything but she was annoyed with him as if he did. He didn't tell her she was wrong for drinking but he gave her tired looks when she talked about Margarita Monday or Thirsty Thursday. He never accepted the drinks she offered him. Just shook his head and when she pressed him about it he told her alcohol made him sleepy.

He only got angry about her drinking one time. She had convinced him to come over after a party. Her roommate was out of town for the weekend and she didn’t feel like being alone yet. While she was waiting for him she found some leftover booze and mixed it with whatever pink juice was living in their mini fridge. When he got there she kept trying to push the cup up to his mouth. He brushed her off and she ended up dropping it and spilling it on the both of them.

“Now look what you did, idiot!” She reached up to jab him playfully in the forehead. He moved fast, grabbing her wrist and holding it to the side. Reflexively she tried to swat at him with her other hand but he grabbed that easily as well.

“Stop it.”

His voice was low and dangerous. Her vision swam as she tried to focus on him. His dark eyes burned and she felt like maybe she shouldn’t be standing so close. She backed up and had to tug a little before he released her. They stared at each other. He tried to regain control of his temper, fingers curled tightly into his palms. He shouldn’t have grabbed her but touching his face like that was a step past what he could tolerate. She was always loose with her contact, even more so when she was drinking. She didn’t know how it put him on edge because he would never tell her, would never admit to that weakness. She might have noticed on her own but it never crossed her mind that it was a problem. She just thought he was a bit stiff and needed some affectionate rough housing from time to time. Still angry, he bit back the cruel words he knew would damage their friendship. Words they both had heard directed at them before: reckless, immature, hopeless. She was watching carefully as he struggled with himself. She’d never felt unsafe with him but this moment had made her very aware their relative sizes. She waited for him to say something else.

He sighed. “Where are your paper towels?”

She had completely forgotten about the spill. She shook her head, thoroughly sobered. “I’ll clean it up.”

Normally he would argue with her, insist on helping, but the sickly sweet smell of whatever horrid drink she’d mixed was making him nauseous. He decided the best move was to call it a night and muttered that he’d see her tomorrow as he stepped around the mess and out the door.  

~~~

Like most people, she was clumsy when she drank. Unlike most people, she seemed to take a sick pride in the bumps and bruises she acquired while stumbling around. It had always fascinated her to watch how her body was able to heal itself. To watch bruises darken and then fade. To study scabs as they formed over scraped knees and the shiny, pink skin that developed underneath. She got an even bigger kick out of it when she discovered Hotch’s tight-lipped disapproval of this behavior. Sometimes she would send him photo updates of particularly gruesome wounds.

“Emily!” he shouted indignantly after her latest upload, a burn from the hot plate courtesy of late-night grilled cheese.

“Shhh! We’re in the library!”

“We’re in a study room! You should be studying!”

“I am,” she said, innocently.

“You know what I mean. Please, please, for the love of god, stop sending me pictures of scabs.”

“Well, I guess if you don’t care about me…”

He threw his hands in the air and kicked back from the table. “I’m getting coffee.” She looked up at him hopefully. “No, I won’t get you any.”

She pouted but when he returned he was carrying two cups as well as some Neosporin and bandaids. She reached for the cup but he pulled it back.

“You have to let me deal with that first.” He nodded at her arm.

She looked at the bandaids distastefully.

“I don’t want to have to look at that shit anymore today,” he said firmly.

“Fine,” she muttered, watching as he set her coffee just out of reach. She was a cooperative patient and he worked quickly.

“What the hell? Why did you put like six bandaids on me?”

“Because you’re just going to peel them off and I want to have at least a few hours without having to be exposed to your organs,” he said cheerfully as he pushed her coffee towards her and swept up the paper litter.

She smiled as she sipped her coffee and waited until they left the library before removing the offending bandages.

~~~

They had been going back and forth about her drinking for several months. She had promised to stop drinking on weekdays if he would come out with her occasionally. She was able to keep her promise for the most part. She believed there were exceptions to everything and was sure to find at least a few instances where she justified a drink or two. He would get annoyed but not angry because he knew she was trying. That wasn’t what caused the problem.

It happened partway through the winter quarter. They had just turned in important papers for their history class. Hotch wanted to start studying for the econ midterm coming up but Emily, already in a bad mood, wanted to be done for the day.

“Please, can you just chill for once in your life?” she begged, leaning her head back and staring at the ceiling. She was draped across one of the lounge chairs, legs up on one side, arms thrown over her head.

He shook his head. “This is important to me.”

“Oh, and it’s not important to me?” she bit back. She shifted so she was sitting up, feet on the floor, glaring at him.

“Sorry Em, I didn’t mean it like that.” He frowned, not sure why she was having such a big reaction.

“I just can’t with you, Hotchner. I can’t fucking win.”

“What are you talking about?”

Instead of answering she got up and left the room. They had been sitting in the common room of his dorm. It was generally quiet at that time of day since most of his neighbors were athletes and had practice in the afternoons.

He waited for her to come back. He was learning that was something people did. He still didn’t fully understand it but apparently some people were able to get mad and then get over it without any major consequences. When she didn’t reappear, he shrugged and opened his laptop to start working.

She stalked angrily down the hallway, heading for her room. Halfway there she realized she forgot her bag but didn’t turn around. She wasn’t ready to see Hotch yet with his stupid apologetic face and his stupid understanding eyes. Why had she let him convince her to try? In the fall she had been checked out and could blame her abysmal grades on that lack of effort. Now she was going to get her grades back and see that she was in fact not as smart as she thought. Everyone would see it. Hotch would see it.

She had always gotten good grades growing up. Partly because she was intelligent but partly because high school wasn’t that demanding intellectually. She could skate by on a minimal amount of effort and charm her way into enough extra credit to keep her grades high. She’d only cared about grades in that she didn’t want her mother looking too closely at her school reports. A’s kept her free to misbehave as she pleased. College was turning out to be different.

It felt bad to put significant effort into something only to get lukewarm results. It felt like she was confirming her deepest fear—she really wasn’t exceptional at anything. She was so afraid and she hated it. And Emily had exactly one coping mechanism for fear—drown it. She’d left her phone in her bag too but she didn’t need that to find a party. She knew exactly where she could go for free alcohol and loud music and strangers she didn’t have to worry would find out how stupid and worthless she really was. She went to her room to change.

A couple hours later she walked up to a frat house, hair freshly washed and straightened, dark make up matching her black bodysuit. There were people spilled all over the lawn. Several tables of beer pong were set up. A kiddie pool filled with melting ice and piles of canned beer occupied the walkway. She smiled. She could always count on people to be drinking at a frat house. She saw a guy she met in the fall at one of the tables and headed in that direction. When he saw her it was obvious he didn’t recognize her but he smiled anyway. It was easy to make friends at a frat house when you looked like Emily Prentiss. She accepted the offered ping pong ball and easily made her first shot. Someone handed her a beer. As she sipped it she finally felt like she wasn’t fighting with herself. This was familiar territory. This was where she belonged.

The afternoon quickly became evening and the party moved inside. The music was loud and insistent. She felt lightheaded—she hadn’t eaten since that morning which was probably a mistake. But she was already mostly drunk and the thought floated away quickly. She took the red plastic cup being passed to her without asking what was in it. It was sweet and orange and much tastier than the beer she’d been drinking. The guy from before, she thought his name was Steven, was leading her towards the courtyard dance floor. He guided her with a hand on her back, bare skin exposed by the low-cut. She loved dancing and didn't notice anything unusual when her head started to swim. That was the feeling she had been looking for wasn’t it?

Things started to get patchy. She thought time had passed but she wasn’t sure how much. She was being led up a staircase but she wasn’t sure if the hand she was holding was Steven’s or someone different. She thought his hair had been brown but maybe it was just dark blonde. It didn’t feel particularly urgent to find out.

She was being pressed against a doorway, hands on her waist, a mouth covering her mouth. It was a kiss. She liked kissing so she kissed back. She tried to open her eyes to see who it was she was kissing but it was dark and her eyes wouldn’t focus. Suddenly there was nothing solid behind her and she fell backwards.

“Woah there!” A hand caught her arm at the last moment and pulled her to a wobbling upright position. “Careful.”

She didn't recognize the voice though it felt a little familiar. She didn’t like this room they were in. It was too dark. She could barely hear the music. She tried to push past the voice, speaking but not hearing anything coherent.

“Hang on, not so fast.” The voice was between her and the door and was very solid. The little light that had illuminated the room disappeared when he shut the door. Why did he shut the door?

“letmego.” It came out as all one word but she was happy with it. She was sure he would understand what she wanted. Instead she heard a laugh. It’s not a nice laugh like when Hotch was listening to her spinning tall tales and laughingly told her she was ridiculous. She wondered where Hotch was. He was her favorite person, why wasn’t he here with her now?

The person moved closer and she knew he was laughing at her. Fear burned through her and she screamed at her body to react. But everything felt slow and sticky. She swung at him but missed. She tried again and he caught her arms. She twisted violently, panic stealing her breath. Roughly, he pushed her backwards and she stumbled only to land on something soft. It was a mattress and it smelled. It smelled like beer and cigarettes and vomit. She kicked at him but it did nothing to stop his advance.

“Shhh. Just be good now.”

She cried. She couldn’t help it. She was so confused about how she got here, about where here even was. She tried to fight back but her thoughts were muddy and everything felt so heavy.

“nononostop,” she screamed but she could barely hear herself.

It was over quickly. Or maybe not quickly. Her sense of time shrank and expanded with each breath. All she knew was at some point she found herself alone. The door hadn’t closed all the way so she could see a little light coming in. She stared at it from her place on the bed, blinking slowly, trying to gather enough thought-power to figure out the next step. Something was wrong, she knew it. This wasn’t her bed or even her dorm building. She needed to find Hotch. He could fix everything. She didn’t think she was injured but it was so hard to move. She rolled to her side and ended up falling off the bed completely. She wasted several moments trying to catch her breath. The impact helped shake off some of the heaviness in her mind and she was able to push herself up off the ground. She found that she was only half dressed and, while she wasn’t completely sure why that was, a sob escaped her as she pulled the straps back up. She lost a shoe and it was too dark and complicated to find it so she kicked the other one off instead. She stumbled to the doorway and leaned against it briefly, making one last effort to collect herself before heading out into the world. This walk wasn’t going to be easy.

In a frat house full of drunk people, one drunk and disheveled girl wasn’t noteworthy. She wasn’t even the only person shoeless at that point. No one stopped to ask her if she was ok. No one questioned when she walked out into the night alone and clearly unwell. She focused all her energy on making it back to the dorm and to Hotch. The walk was about half a mile back through the city streets immediately surrounding campus. She tripped and fell more than once, skinning her palms and ripping holse in her pants. Only one person asked if she needed help, concerned by her lack of footwear. She waved them off, slurring that she was going home. The good Samaritan shrugged and headed off in the opposite direction. If a person insisted on helping every drunk college kid who thought they could handle themselves better than they could, they’d never make it home.

She did make it back and thanked whoever might be listening that her keycard was still in her pocket. She hadn’t considered it until the very moment she needed it. She got into the elevator with only one destination in mind. She had no idea what time it was or if he was mad at her and that was why she was alone but she is going to find Aaron Hotchner and let him deal with whatever this mess was she had made.

She knocked and knocked again when he didn’t answer.

“Hotch!” Her voice was hoarse and not very loud. She raised her hand to bang on the door again when it opened. He stood in the doorway, hair sticking up from sleep, blinking at her. He looked irritated and she wasn’t sure what she did wrong but she’s willing to atone for it. She held up her hands, trying to sort out her words.

“Hotch, I—“

“Go to bed, Emily.” He sounded tired more than anything else. He had answered this late night knock many times and tonight he didn’t want to play along. He didn’t want to deal with her drunk affections, he didn’t want to make her the snack she insisted she deserved, he didn’t want to make sure to switch out her pilfered beers with waters for the next couple hours. He just wanted to sleep and deal with this disappointment tomorrow. He turned away and she started to follow him but he just grabbed her backpack from his desk chair. He pushed it into her arms, propelling her back through the door.

“Go to bed,” he repeated. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that he closed the door, quietly but firmly. She knew he wouldn’t answer if she knocked again. She hugged her bag to her chest. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. But if Hotch wouldn’t help her, it must have been her fault. She stumbled down the hall to her room. She didn’t want to lay down in the dark. Just the thought of doing that made her heart race. She felt dirty so she went to the bathroom to take a shower. After she turned on the water she looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t blame Hotch for sending her away. She was a mess. She wouldn’t want to deal with her either.

She was far too tired to take her clothes off. The adrenaline that got her home had faded and everything was beginning to hurt. She climbed into the shower fully dressed and sank down to the floor. With her knees pulled up to her chest she pressed her face into the bend of her elbow. She chewed on the skin around her fingers, finding it as comforting now as when she first discovered it. But the comfort was not enough and she found herself crying without knowing the exact reasons why. She cried until the water turned cold and then for awhile after that. Finally, worried that someone would find her, she cut the water off and got out. Shedding the wet bodysuit, she threw it in the trash before wrapping up in her towel. It was all she could do to make it into her bed. As she laid down she saw the sky was getting lighter and she felt relieved that at least she wouldn’t have to be in the dark now.

~Part 2~

[metinthehallway]

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Hello! Here is a simple little 3.5k fic! I thank @goldenbluesuit for hosting this spectacular fic challenge! I love what I've read so far and I can’t wait to keep reading. Also, thank you to @lilacobscure and @arrogantstyles for beta-ing and just being...awesome. I hope you all like it. :) 

Warnings: mention of the word bloke from a non-Brit

Annie has had it. She’s holding two of her fluffiest pillows against both of her ears and has her white noise machine droning on at full volume. And she can still hear the sultry bass of Andy Williams singing his little heart out. She can hear him as clear as day, as if he were performing his very own live concert in the corner of her bedroom. Don’t even get her started on the Christmas lights. Annie had actually gone out and bought an eye mask in order to sleep, as her windows faced the neighbors front yard where Annie’s neighbor, apparently, was the sole reason their local supermarket was sold out of blow up decorations and string lights. 

Harry Styles didn’t even have a lot of real estate to work with in terms of space. But he really made every centimeter count. One morning mid-November, whilst getting her mail, Annie counted about fourteen deflated pop-up corpses staked to the frozen ground, multiple candy canes lining his driveway that were about half the size of her, and masses of tangled lights strung up across every visible square inch of his home. If that wasn’t enough, he had a carefully crafted playlist he turned on every night at eight p.m. sharp that was approximately three hours and forty-nine minutes long before it looped back to the beginning song. She thought, fleetingly, that she should invest in ear plugs.

Annie prides herself on being a patient and understanding person. The only reason why she hasn’t held a covert operation at three in the morning to mercilessly stab a hole in each blow-up, or cut every single criss-crossed wire, or even ambush her neighbor while he walks out his front door in nothing but a fuzzy pink robe and no shoes, demonstrating that universal, oh shit the ground is cold, oh shit, oh shit, jerking walk, is because he only recently moved in next door. She was not about to be the one to ask him to maybe take it easy on the city’s power source, that she also needs electricity for her home, and also how do you fall asleep with this godforsaken music?

Annie is not prideful in this moment. All it takes for her to snap is hearing, “It’s the hap-happiest season of all,” for the forty-fifth time. With a loud groan, she tears off her beautiful, beautiful down comforter and stomps into her shoes, scaring Cindy, her sleeping Persian cat, off the bed. It’s two thirty-six in the morning, she realizes in a far off thought that doesn’t seem to make it to the forefront of her brain, and makes her way over to Harry’s front door. She has the immature urge to punch a smiling Santa sat atop a sleigh filled with presents as she passes it. All the lights are off in his house and Annie doesn’t feel a bit of remorse as she raises a half-asleep arm and slams it against the sturdy oak door of Harry’s house. For a full minute, it’s silent and there appears to be no movement from behind the door. A sliver of apprehension begins to worm its way into Annie’s bones. 

There’s a better way to do this, Annie. Like, in daylight, during normal people hours. 

She starts to turn on her heel, continuing her internal chastising and also external chastising, muttering to herself like a lunatic, when she hears the tell-tale creak behind her and a porch light flickering to life. Annie stands there, her right hand over her eyes, shielding them from the harsh yellow rays. She can make out Harry’s figure, dressed in flannel pajama pants that look like they were previously crumpled on his bedroom floor, a white T-shirt on backwards and inside out, and his signature pink fuzzy robe. His hair sticks up hazardously, sort of like a halo illuminated by the bulb behind him. His eyes are puffy, brows furrowed together and indenting a line in the center of his forehead. Lips as pink as a rose purse together as nostrils flare.

“Is there something I might be able to help you with?” Harry asks, a slight lilt to his gravelly voice. It’s a polite enough question, however it holds an air of carefully restrained annoyance. For a moment, Annie thinks she would be annoyed as well if someone pounded at her front door in the wee hours of a Tuesday morning. She quickly dismisses the thought, actually raising her hand in the air and waving it off as if it was a tangible thing. Harry raises one eyebrow. 

“Good evening, well- morning, my name is Annie. I live next door, I’m twenty-two Ambrose Ave,” Annie starts. She doesn’t know why she announces her house number. She watches his eyes flick to his right where an engraved twenty-four lies, and back to hers. Annie shakes her head slightly before launching into a speech she never prepared.

“I’m here because I think the way you decorate is rude. Do you think, at all, of your neighbors? How do you fall asleep? Do you even have a job?! I never see you leave your house! Not that I’m keeping tabs, I’m just genuinely worried for your electric bill,” she continues, pausing to take a breath. “I have not had a single good nights rest since you started all of this, back in November. I have never hated the sound of Andy Williams’ voice more deeply than I do this holiday season.”

“Excuse me—,”

“Ah-ah! I’m not done, sir. Some of us are employed and have to work at eight a.m., some of us have cats that wake us up in the ass-crack of dawn anyway with their screeches and need all the sleep we can get. Do you know I had to buy a sleep mask because of you? Because of,” she pauses, a red rotating light from a candy cane passing over her face ominously as she turns around and gestures wildly to the commotion around her, “all this?”

“Can I just say—,”

“And the music. Are you eighty years old? The least you could do with this god-awful playlist is add some Mariah Carey, some Buble; even Ariana Grande has some sick Christmas tunes. The ones you chose haven’t been remastered since nineteen thirty-eight,” she finishes, eyes a little too wide, hair disheveled and falling in her face. Her hands are shaking and her heart is beating entirely too fast. Confrontation has never been Annie’s strong suit, evident of the lack of response from Harry as she cuts him off throughout the duration of her mini rant. He just peers back at her, face as still as stone as an uncomfortable silence falls between them. Frosty the Snowman rears its nasty head and Annie finds herself slowly closing her eyes and clenching her fists.

The second Annie starts to open her eyes, she hears the light closing of Harry’s front door and two locks click into place. She stands there, mouth slightly open as the early December chill works its way into her bones. She stares ahead of her and a murderous look takes over her face, cheeks red with the winter wind, lips chapped and tears starting to form on her lash line from the cold.

“What a fucking prick,” Annie mutters to herself. He can’t even respond to her? How childish. She turns around slowly, walking back through the winter wonderland, feeling defeated. She didn’t know what she expected to feel after finally expressing her thoughts, but she knew defeated was not it. 

As she crosses the threshold into her home, she thinks, maybe I could’ve handled that better. Annie prides herself on her patience. She was not patient that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of the month, Annie and Harry bump into each other way more than either of them would like. Once, when the mailman dropped off her mother’s monthly care package to Harry’s house, another when Annie had to begrudgingly ask to borrow his shovel when she found her car snowed in one early morning and a broken handle on her own. 

They’ve even begun to see each other in the aisles of their local supermarket. Annie enters the store, unsuspecting and looking for ingredients to make her world renowned charcuterie boards for a work fundraiser. She stops in her tracks and almost drops her jar of green olives when she sees a familiar head of frizzy brown hair. 

Harry is hyper-focused, reading the back of a spray cheese can. Annie tries to sneak by him and grab a box of herb filled crackers. Tries. She is unsuccessful, however, when her purse strap catches on a display and yanks her arm backwards, making her lose grip of the glass jar. Everything seems to happen in slow motion, as she watches the jar sail past Harry and hit the ground, glass exploding all over his shoes. The chattering happening around her ceases, as all of the blood in her body travels to her face. 

“Clean up in aisle four,” deadpans a nearby worker dressed in a horrid shade of neon green. He sighs heavily, murmuring under his breath that he doesn’t get paid nearly enough to be picking up all of these olives. 

Annie is mortified. She is unable to tear her focus away from Harry’s soaked suede shoes.  It’s only when he clears his throat and shifts his feet that she raises her head.

“I see… that you’ve really got a vendetta against me,” Harry scoffs, eyes trained on his feet, where the olive juice has to be seeping into his socks. No one likes wet socks. 

“That was completely on accident! I swear! Why is that display sticking three feet into the aisle anyway? That has to be a a safety violation,” Annie pushes out in a rush. There doesn’t seem to be enough air for her lungs in this store. Especially not with Harry now looking intensely at her, almost like he could see right through her. She folds under his gaze.

“It’s okay. I didn’t like these shoes much, to be fair,” Harry shrugs. 

“Really?”

“No,” Harry says. 

“Oh. Well, I can buy you a new pair. How much did you pay for those?” Annie asks, pulling out her wallet.

Harry raises a single eyebrow, the left corner of his mouth turning up and a dimple appearing out of thin air. 

“Too much. Really, it’s fine. The juice is translucent enough. I’ll just use them as house slippers,” he says. He opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by the loud squeaking of a bucket skidding across the floor. The neon green worker returns, a dingy looking mop in hand and a frown on his face. His free hand makes the shoo motion to Harry, starting to swipe at the floor, completely ignoring the glass scratching the linoleum that’s mixed in with the olives.

“Do you want any help?” Annie offers, stepping forward to at least pick up the larger shards scattered across the floor. The worker, whose name tag reads Roger, holds up a single pointer finger in her direction and shakes his head. Annie takes the hint, while Harry just shifts his gaze between Roger and the mess on the tiles, mouth somewhat agape. She nudges his shoulder with her own and gestures with her head for them to leave the aisle. 

Annie makes her way up to self-checkout, Harry following suit. They ring their items up in silence next to each other. They find themselves walking through the front door together, and it’s only when they’re outside in the sunshine that Harry lets out the deepest belly laugh Annie has ever heard. 

“Oh my god, my toes are so wet,” Harry says in between breaths. “Did you see the way that bloke’s vein was popping out of his neck? I thought he was about to commit second degree murder right in the condiment aisle.”

Annie’s heartbeat starts to pick up and she begins to laugh along with him. Tears form in both of their eyes and they sparkle in the cold afternoon sunlight. 

“I feel so bad! I don’t even like olives. They were just for my stupid charcuterie boards,” Annie says, laughter dying down. She sighs, wiping at her cheeks. She looks up, meeting Harry’s eyes. He looks down at her, smile fading slowly but his face still holding traces of warmth. 

“Well, I should be heading home. See you soon,” Harry bids his goodbye. Annie nods her head in his direction and turns, palming her keys and unlocking her car across the parking lot with a chirp. She unloads her groceries into the trunk and slides into the drivers seat, thinking for a brief moment about the shape of Harry’s smile. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The snow outside is falling. And it’s falling hard. So heavy and consistent that the power lines are drooping underneath the weight and the electricity in Annie’s house is flickering in and out. It’s Christmas Eve and all she wants to do is sleep the night away, then sleep the morning away, then sleep the weekend away. She draws back a curtain and peers at Harry’s lawn, the usual eyesore dark and covered in a blanket of sparkling white snow.

A sharp crack and the sound of something large tumbling to the ground close to Annie’s house makes both her and Cindy jump, eyes alert and tail all puffed out. She goes to open her front door to investigate and sees Cindy dart between her legs a second too late, a gray blur running into the stormy night.

“CINDY!” Annie yells, voice carrying eerily across the empty street. She takes off after the small cat, wearing only her pajamas and a pair of worn slippers. Annie loses her immediately in the snowfall. While outside, she sees the huge tree limb that fell onto Harry’s front yard, covering a third of his decorations, deeming a good chunk of them broken. She wonders for a short second why he hasn’t come out to check on the noise. 

Annie’s heart starts to race as she tries to get a rein on her growing panic. Cindy is a strictly indoor cat, only having been outside for vet visits. She thinks of what would bring her cat back home, yelling her name sweetly and kissing her teeth loudly. She starts to walk towards the tree line, snapping her fingers and chattering her teeth. 

“Annie?” She hears her name being called out from behind her. She throws her head over her shoulder and locks eyes with Harry, standing there in his infamous robe. He’s got his face turned away from the harsh wind and his face is scrunched up in confusion. “What on Earth are you doing out here?! Are you mental?” 

“Cindy got out! I don’t know where she went. She ran in this direction. She never goes outside, I don’t know what to do,” Annie exclaims, feeling the urge to tear at her hair. 

“Who’s Cindy?” Harry asks.

“My cat! She was scared by the branch falling and snuck right past me when I opened the door,” she explains, arms crossing over her chest as the chill of the night bites at her skin. She shivers, turning back towards the trees. They look like they’re beginning to come alive.

Harry looks her up and down and comes up behind her, wrapping that godforsaken robe around her shaking frame. She looks up at him, grateful for the extra layer. He has a serious look on his face, determined with a mix of compassion, and also curiosity. Annie is suddenly relieved that she has someone with her to handle the situation with more calm than she ever could.

“Why don’t you go inside and grab her favorite treats? And a blanket she loves? Something that smells like you would be best,” Harry says, listing off the necessary items as if he’s done this before. She looks at him, a bit puzzled, and he reads her expression easily.

“Our cats growing up were professional escape artists. I’ve done this once or twice,” he lets out a small chuckle. She nods and heads towards her house, grabbing everything they need and changing into a pair of winter boots and shrugging on a coat, shoving Harry’s robe towards him. 

“I got everything. Here’s your robe,” Annie says, unable to meet his eyes. She already feels indebted to him, and they haven’t even found Cindy yet. “Thank you for helping me. I’m just… scared,” she confesses, tears starting to well up. She presses her fists into her eyes roughly as if she could stop them from falling. 

Harry just nods, takes the garment, and starts shaking the treat bag. His deep voice carries into the night more than hers did as he walks around, zig-zagging across the snow. Annie holds Cindy’s favorite blanket that resides on her bed and wraps it around her. She follows Harry, both chorusing, Cindy! Cindy, baby! Come back! It’s too cold for you out here!

They walk the perimeter of Annie’s house, keeping to the tree line, when Harry shushes her. He stops in his tracks and listens to the silent night. Faintly, from the direction of Harry’s house, comes a small mewl. He walks briskly over, slowing his movements as he gets closer in order not to scare the small Persian. 

“Cindy? Where are you girl? Come out for your mama,” Harry half-whispers, half-shouts. He’s still shaking the treats lightly, starting to open them. From their right they can hear a crumpling of plastic, a flash of gray shooting out from underneath the collapsed blow-up of Santa on his sleigh. Annie cries out in relief as Cindy comes running towards them at full speed, crashing right into Harry’s legs. He scoops her up swiftly with one hand and holds a treat out to her in his other. 

“You had me so worried, Cindy! I cannot believe you. You want nothing to do with the outside world but decide to run out into the coldest night we’ve had so far! You’re crazy,” Annie half-sobs, holding the cats face in two hands. Cindy shakes the snow out of her fur and licks at Annie’s nose. Harry watches the interaction, feeling something unfolding in his own chest. He gestures for Annie to take her cat, picking long hairs out of his robe.

“I see everything’s all in order here, I’ll just—oh,” Harry lets out a grunt as this peculiar woman collides into his body, cat trapped between the two of them and licking at the pink fuzz surrounding Harry as if she were grooming a kitten. His eyes go a bit wide, arms frozen around Annie while she releases a string of, thank you so much, you have no idea how much she means to me, you didn’t have to do this but you did so I owe you, I’m sorry for what I said that night, I’m sorry about the olive juice, thank you, thank you, thank you, muffled into his chest. His hands find themselves resting on her back, stroking up and down in a means to calm her.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. I know what it feels like. I’m glad she was okay,” Harry soothes. Annie pulls away, and a strange longing passes through his heart. He frowns slightly and clears his throat. 

“I’m going to go to bed now, and get this little gremlin inside. Thank you so much, Harry. I really do appreciate it, more than you know,” Annie says, a bit breathless. Snowflakes lay themselves to rest upon her eyelashes, lips pink from the cold and Harry has the innate urge to tuck a piece of unruly hair behind her ear. He blinks, forcing himself out of his head.

“Really, it’s no problem. I’ll be heading in as well. See you soon, Annie,” Harry declares. Annie realizes with a jolt that Harry just said her name for the first time. She’s suddenly overheating, and gives a single nod, holding Cindy tight to her body as she walks up the few steps to her front door. Harry watches her leave, only taking his eyes off her when he can’t see her anymore. He then turns around, looking at the demolition of his lawn. He inhales deep. 

“Fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry does a double take when he sees Annie outside his home the next morning, attempting to break apart the large tree branch. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the remainder of the season, Harry and Annie spend an inordinate amount of time together. From binge-watching their guilty pleasure TV shows to roaming the streets downtown at midnight, sharing the same love for empty places. It seemed as though, somewhere in the universe, a story began to unravel itself.

As the last snowflake melts on the first stem emerging from the soft ground, Harry kisses Annie. He wasn’t even planning on it. It was like second degree murder. He found himself looking at her looking at the bluest sky, the sky looking back at her like it wanted to kiss her as well; so he kissed her first. 

[fandom-necromancer]

Criminal Romance

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I hope evil!Reed900 and criminal!Reed900 are overlapping enough for this to be what you wanted! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: Author blatantly brushes over morals and ethics for the sake of the AU, Gavin and Nines are criminals, murder)

‘Damn, you are phcking sexy when you are angry, you know that?’ That made a smile appear on that beautiful face, as Nines was standing hunched over the sink to wash away the blood from his knuckles. ‘I believe you are the only one who reacts to danger by proposing to it.’ ‘Aw, so you finally have decided on an answer?’ Gavin couldn’t hide his excitement and knowing he needed something to do if he didn’t want to bounce around the place, he took the disinfectant wipes and took Nines’ hands. ‘Here, let me.’ He started wiping over the android’s knuckles, careful to get into the ridges between hull plates too as soon as Nines let his skin retract. ‘There, all done’, Gavin murmured, not letting Nines’ hands leave his as he continued caressing them gently. ‘I think I have decided’, the android answered finally. ‘Not that I ever had any doubts, but you know, I had planned to confess my love to you at a perfect moment. Like, right after a chase with the police, when the adrenaline is rushing in your veins and your heart is beating like crazy.’ He grasped Gavin’s hands and pulled the man close. ‘Or during a shootout when we made it just within an inch of our lives.’ He kissed him. ‘Or maybe when we are both tied up in the back of a police car, just moments before breaking our chains and making our escape.’ His thirium pump worked overtime as he saw Gavin’s eyes flutter shut while leaning in for the next kiss, his breathing caught against the android’s lips.

‘You damn romantic’, Gavin whispered and pressed himself flush with Nines’ body. It was when he lifted a leg to hook behind him, that the android chuckled and pressed it down gently. ‘Darling, we still have a body to dispose of.’ ‘Don’t care’, Gavin panted. ‘Police isn’t even searching for him yet. Isn’t even reported missing yet.’ ‘Still, we have to-‘ He was interrupted by another kiss and Nines was just about as annoyed as he was amused. He laughed the moment his mouth was free again and shook his head. ‘Gavin. Come on. Let’s wait until we are home. I’ll dispose of the body, you clean. Then we can continue this. How about that?’ Gavin whined, but stepped back from him, holding him by his coat-tails. ‘Hurry’, He ordered in stern tone and Nines nodded.

They walked back into the room and Nines got to work untying the lifeless body that slumped in his grip. Damn low-life trying to rat them out to the police for a reduced sentence… In Nines’ opinion you either were smart enough to plan your actions so you didn’t get caught, or you owed up to your crimes. Was there no honour in the criminal world? No, Nines had never betrayed someone in his life. He had killed, threatened and robbed, but he had never betrayed his partners. Neither had Gavin, Nines thought, remembering how they had met. Nines, out for revenge for what Cyberlife had done to him, what they had done to other androids, killing off everyone who was responsible for the decisions made. And then Gavin, who had been thrown out of the police for anti-android behaviour and started a small little red-ice business. Nines remembered all too fondly how they had started off as enemies, Gavin accepting Thirium drained from captured androids. He had planned to kill the man for the longest time, but as he had looked death personified into the eyes and just smiled, flirting with him of all things, it had been the first time Nines had changed his mind and offered Gavin to be partners. Since then, Gavin found Nines his victims. Gavin lured in those who were willing to let androids suffer and Nines ended their existence on this planet. It was perfect and no one was able to stop them.

Not even former partners of his human that had suddenly decided that creating drugs from the blood of the dead to make humans addicted to it until it killed them eventually was fine, but they drew the line at taking the shortcut of killing some assholes directly. Nines would have to pay Gavin’s labs a visit after this, reminding them not to dare say a word against his love else they would end just like the body Nines currently carried on his shoulder effortlessly. He smiled to himself thinking of their scared faces and nodded. But first he had to take care of their latest victim.

As he came back, the body neatly cut up and buried deep in several neighbouring fields with enough distance they wouldn’t be able to connect the single pieces if they ever found them, he froze. His eyes were fixed on the police car parked just in front of the building, the officers nowhere in sight. It hadn’t been here before. It had just arrived, the hood still appearing slightly warm in his infra-red vision. And Gavin was still inside, cleaning away the mess they had made. Gavin.

Nines started running. Out of the two of them, Gavin wasn’t the one who was good with careful words. Gavin was the one to manipulate, to be the textbook asshole who threw punches and curses around. Gavin was the one to hide their intentions behind blunt bravado and gather attention. Nines? Nines was the one who made sure all that attention came from the right kind of people and that in the event the wrong people appeared – like they had decided to do now – they had no evidence to go off of. Said simpler, they were a really good team and Nines had left Gavin alone in one of the worst situations he could have. But maybe he wasn’t too late yet.

He slowed down as he heard distant voices and made a point of strolling in as relaxed and calm as possible, even if his systems were running overtime already. He pretended to flinch as if only now realising they weren’t alone. It would help the play, whatever Gavin had already said. ‘Hey, what happened?’, he asked, quickly moving to Gavin’s side. ‘Stop! Don’t move. Put your hands where I can see them!’, one of the two officers ordered sternly, weapon raised. ‘I’m not armed’, Nines said, otherwise complied. He was near enough to Gavin to jump in front of him or grab him to pull him away. He was safe. Gavin turned his head around to him, his arms still risen. ‘They found us.’ Nines remembered their codes. “Found” was something different to “caught” or “got”. “Found” was good. It meant they didn’t have a clue, just caught them somewhere they weren’t supposed to be. “Caught” would mean they had seen something and “they got us” would be the signal for Nines to come up with an escape plan that left no witnesses.

So, he relaxed a bit. ‘Are you from the police?’, Nines asked innocently. ‘Yes, DPD! And who are you?’ ‘May I see your badges?’, the android tried. Both officers showed them without taking the gun down. ‘There. Now answer the question.’ ‘I’m a RK900 unit. My name is Nines.’ The android had looked up their IDs and badge number. They were real cops and were currently stationed at the precinct Gavin had formerly worked at. It was safer to use their real names in case someone recognised them or they had to follow them to the station. Nines’ scan from the room returned him nothing, Gavin had done his job well. Maybe this time playing innocent and just relaying on the laziness of others might be the safest bet. ‘My name is Gavin Reed’, Gavin followed his example. ‘Gavin Reed? Like the Detective?’ Gavin sighed. He was still salty about having lost his job. Nines was quite glad about it as the human would have without doubt long caught up with his doings. ‘Yeah. Got kicked out because of anti-android bullshit.’

‘Sir, has he done anything to you?’, the officer that had kept in the background until now asked. ‘Excuse me?’ Nines would have laughed hadn’t he been deeply offended by the assumption. ‘No’, he answered, looking down on the humans. ‘And considering I plan to propose in the near future, I doubt it will be very likely.’ ‘Alright, why were you here? As a former Detective, you do know, this is breaking and entering, right?’ ‘Is it really breaking and entering, if we didn’t break in?’, Nines asked and Gavin backed him up: ‘Yeah, we drive by this place almost every day and wanted to know what’s inside. We checked, this building doesn’t belong to anyone anymore.’ ‘So you are just exploring?’ ‘That’s right.’ ‘Then where’s your third man?’ ‘Third man?’ ‘Yes, you were going inside with someone else, now you are only two.’

Nines alarm went off. They had been watching. They had seen the person that was now dead. Gavin likely hadn’t had a chance to dispose of the bloodied tarp and his cleaning supplies yet. A thoroughly search would without doubt lead them onto their trail. And although the police would never be able to prove they had committed all their murders, at least this last one they would be punished for. Outwardly he only smiled and shrugged. ‘We were alone. I don’t know if someone followed us, but it was just us two.’ ‘Yeah, right’, the officer said, little convinced. ‘I would like to take you two with us to the station for further questioning. We have a few cases where the suspects’ descriptions fit well enough with you.’

Gavin and Nines stared at each other and Nines shrugged. He couldn’t think of any reason why they could be suspicious to the police, but that was what made it all the more important to go with them to the station. Nines was sure they would have to let them go for lack of evidence anyways, so it was best to comply and play their part instead of making a scene. Might as well find out how much the authorities knew of them. ‘Alright’, Nines took the lead and hoped Gavin wouldn’t make a fuss. ‘But we have to be home before eight o’clock, else his cat will start dismantling the flat.’ ‘That’s entirely up to you.’

~

‘Where were you on the third October 2039?’ They were sitting in different interrogation rooms and while Nines was waiting for someone to ask him questions, Gavin was already prodded. Nines had allowed himself into the room’s systems and could hear every word from the intercom and see through the cameras mounted on the walls. Other than Nines Gavin really had to think back and try to remember what had happened that day. But even then, Nines saw recognition on his face far earlier than he showed it to the officer in front of him. ‘Pffff, I don’t really remember. That’s how many years ago? Five? Six? I had been kicked out of the DPD and looked for a job at that time. Didn’t find one right away, apparently being fired by the police isn’t the best way to find a new job quickly.’ ‘Which you haven’t until this very day, although you have regular income.’ ‘I’m a freelancer. Private security, one day here the next over there, you know? I’m still looking for a real job.’ ‘So, the sudden rise in Red Ice trade and cases of missing androids are not in any way connected to you?’ The officer sitting opposite to Gavin had leaned back in the chair and let the files fall on the table with an audible slap. Nines listened very intently. That was from before they had met, before they had had each other’s backs. How on earth had the police been diligent enough to do follow ups on something this long ago?

Gavin just laughed; his obviously heightened stress levels well hidden. ‘Hey, don’t complain about that if you throw out one of the best detectives you had, especially one that worked his ass off to get these cases closed. Hell, likely some new gang that uses the thirium from these units to skip a lot of the production costs. Really, that sounds like an easy case. And you haven’t solved that one yet?’ Nines relaxed. He didn’t know whether leading someone on their trail was a good idea, but he trusted Gavin to choose the right action and angering the officer might just work. ‘Okay, I’ll ring up a few contacts and see if they can recognise you’, the officer grumbled. ‘For now, that’s it, my colleague will lead you out.’

~

When the door opened, Nines made a show of looking completely unperturbed. ‘Letting me wait? Let me tell you that tactic isn’t as effective as it is with humans.’ The officer threw him a look. ‘Well, we are just understaffed, that’s all.’ ‘Shouldn’t have fired my partner then’, Nines hit into the same spot Gavin had just minutes before. It worked wonders. ‘Listen, this is about you and whether or not you will be arrested. We have a bunch of dead Cyberlife personnel that where involved with the development of your series.’ ‘Really?’, Nines asked. ‘That’s too bad. I never really liked them, I mean I guess no deviant likes the people that thought of them as objects. But I am perfectly content with creating a brighter future. I don’t like looking back on what happened.’ Not really a lie. He was indeed creating a better future by making sure these monsters would never be able to lay hands on an android again. ‘Sure. That’s why people disappear that worked in complete secrecy on your line? Not even their families knew what they were working on.’ ‘Maybe whoever is killing these people got their hands on a Cyberlife pay-check? I am no cop, but I’d say you should look into the higher ups of Cyberlife itself.’ ‘That we already did and there is no motive. One, two, maybe. Not forty-three.’

Nines would have swallowed hadn’t he been observed. How had they managed to find all his kills and managed to connect them back to him? ‘Well, that is no evidence. Why should I kill them? I wasn’t a deviant back then. You have no reason to believe I did this.’ ‘We have, actually. One of the persons the killer missed had fled the country seeing what happened to his colleagues. He informed us and pointed us your way, telling us how you swore to kill every last one of the people who held you at that lab.’ So the fucker had fled the country. That’s the reason Nines never managed to find him. Good to know. ‘I have sworn that’, Nines admitted. What else could he do? ‘Multiple times even. But that doesn’t mean I would do that. If you knew what they did to me, you would understand what drove me to say that. But now the situation is different. One careless word delivered by someone who fled the country isn’t enough to arrest me.’ ‘No, but enough to keep you here for further questioning. I will lead you back to the cell until the officers responsible for this case have arrived.’

~

Nines joined Gavin on the bench, watching how the door was locked and the officer walked away, likely to make some phone calls. Both of them knew they hadn’t been as invulnerable as they had thought, and the lasting expectant silence was weighing down on them. >It doesn’t look too good. Nines eventually displayed on his palm for the other to see. Gavin leaned against him and whispered in his ear: ‘Yeah, it really doesn’t.’ >We need to get out of here. Gavin nodded and shrugged, enough for Nines to understand he agreed but had his doubts it would work. The android smiled. >Thanks to the police I have located my last target. The only loose end. ‘Really? Where?’ As an answer, Nines pulled up a tourist brochure of Indonesia. >How about a vacation until things have settled? Gavin smiled at him, taking Nines’ hand and stood up after him. Just before Nines laid his hand at the door and started hacking, Gavin leaned in tiptoeing, so he could press a kiss on his neck. ‘Seems you do get your romantic moment after all’, Gavin whispered amusedly, and Nines answered by opening the door. Shortly after an alarm blared and they found themselves surrounded by chaos, sudden gunshots and screams. That would be indeed make for the perfect moment.

[onyourzeus]

in ruins | kyh

title: in ruins pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: heavy angst, not a happy ending i’m warning you, small caps words: 4.0k

author’s note: i love hurting myself this way. 

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

you thought upon knocking on the door, you’d be greeted by the one person you have been looking forward to seeing all week. instead, an unexpecting friend of his unlocks it ajar, eyes peering over to your figure before realizing who you were. 

“wonpil, hey,” you greet him amidst the confused expression on his face. it brings him back to his senses, shaking his head slightly before fully letting the door open. he gulps slightly yet you catch it, but don’t question why he looks.. so nervous.

“is this a bad time?” you hesitate, taking one small step forward as you crane your neck to look around the apartment. wonpil immediately shakes his head again, sidestepping and gesturing his hand over. “no, no! please, come in. make yourself at home.” 

“okay, thanks…” you trail off, a small smile on your lips but a certain emotion tugging at your heart. with a better sight of the inside, you notice dowoon lying down on the couch with his phone on hand, seemingly focused on a game that requires both of his hands to control. wonpil closes the door behind you, and excuses himself to the kitchen before asking, “did you want anything to drink? water, tea?”

“i’m okay, wonpil. thank you, though,” you tell him, nodding your head to let him be. as he makes his way to get a glass of water for himself, you walk into the place further, taking in the minimal decorations and a few picture frames hanging on the walls. it’s been a while since you’ve set foot in the dorm, and taking in its unique scent and interior gives you some comfort from the anxiety building up from your stomach. 

you tell yourself that’s just how wonpil acts around you when younghyun isn’t around: a little shy, polite, and a smidgen bit careful not to say anything weird. you wish, at this point, he can get used to your presence. then again, you only get to see most of them whenever the bassist invites you over.

“hey, dowoon, what’cha playing?” you attempt to start a conversation, standing next to the edge of the couch where dowoon’s head rested. his sight is obstructed by the screen of his phone, so you bend down to check what has gotten most of his attention: genshin impact. 

“ah, jae had told me you rolled a keqing yesterday, that’s pretty cool,” you comment, and dowoon jumps from the sound of your voice so close to his ear. you get up, stepping back while apologizing. “sorry, sorry! didn’t mean to be nosy.” 

“no, you’re good—” he starts to say, sitting up from his comfortable position while pausing his game, haphazardly placing his phone on the side. a scratch on the back of his neck, he glances over to you. similarly to wonpil, he looks surprised to see you here. “oh! how’s it going?”

“it’s going,” you reply quickly, realizing more and more it doesn’t seem like you were expected to come. weird, you wander in the back of your mind, younghyun usually gives them a heads up when you’re coming over to hang out or just pick him up to leave. 

“did younghyun not say anything today?” an air of silence is felt, and now you’re more concerned when turning to look at his bedroom door— he’s not in there. 

“he probably forgot,” wonpil chimes in, approaching the living room as he sets down his glass. “hyung has been really busy lately, so it might have slipped his mind.”

“yeah, yeah. it’s no big deal. you’re always welcome here,” dowoon adds, an encouraging smile appearing on his lips. you reciprocate, albeit a little forced, feeling less sure of the fact that the plans you and younghyun had made and promised to pursue are starting to crumble beneath your feet. 

sighing deeply, you grip onto your purse and interrogate further: “he’s not in his room, is he?” 

the drummer and pianist steal a glance at each other for a split second, but every detail of their silent conversation is not lost on you. that’s a look of panic, worrying what you’d feel if they told the truth, rapidly forming excuses in their heads they can use to white lie their way out of the situation. 

“he’s…” wonpil begins, and dowoon’s ears have warmed up to the tense air looming all over you three. a door to the left creaks open, and for a moment you’re relieved. maybe you were overreacting, already affected by the many times something similar has happened to you, but there was no reason not to forgive younghyun.

 however, this time, it’s different. if that’s not him coming out of the door right now…

“hey, i’m gonna go on a run—” sungjin informs his roommates, locking the door in his wake. he finally looks towards the three of you in the living room, and given his certain sense of maturity— and analyzing what’s going on by the awkward expressions painted on your faces, he gives you a wave of his hand. 

“hi. you’re looking for younghyun?” 

“sungjin, i… yeah. where is he?” you let your breaths stabilize, not wanting to break down in the middle of what once was a familiar space, and is now becoming more and more foreign to you. as wonpil and dowoon remain quiet, pretending to busy themselves with his almost empty glass of water and overheating phone respectively, you keep your eyes on sungjin. begging him to tell the truth. 

he delivers, but his stare is hard, almost as if he’s hiding something behind the glassiness of his eyes. “he’s been out for the whole day. he said to not wait up on him since he still has another work schedule tonight.” 

as you stand there, knuckles turning pale with the way it holds onto your purse for dear life, you scoff sarcastically. leaving sungjin’s gaze, the anxiety had reached the base of your throat, restricting words of profanities to come out of you like a broken dam. 

“you can wait for him in his room. did you text him?” sungjin continues to console you, walking closer but allowing personal space between you. “i can call him while i run, he’s going to get annoyed eventually and pick up.” 

“yeah, i’ll do the same as hyung. we’ll blow up his phone so he can come back home,” dowoon joins with a perk to his voice, seemingly anticipating their master plan to succeed. wonpil nods along, but doesn’t meet your gaze, only swirling the remaining liquid in his glass. 

“you don’t have to do that,” you let them know as much as your voice can muster before breaking. “i’ll take you up on your offer of waiting for him, if you don’t mind. i’ll call him myself.” 

sungjin brings his fingers in between the bridge of his nose, contemplating on accepting the compromise. to hurry things up, you bring a hand to his shoulder and squeeze it gently. he seems to understand as he nods firmly, patting your hand before you let it go. 

“okay. let me know if he doesn’t come back in an hour, yeah?” 

“yes, sir.” 

“do you want some snacks? leftovers? are you hungry?” wonpil goes off with his questions, and it’s an endearing sight to watch him treat you so politely in his humble abode. honestly, at this point you’d rather leave and forget this day even existed— but you needed answers, and you know you’re not getting it from them. 

you don’t want to, anyway, because they shouldn’t be involved in this. they don’t need to be. this is between you and younghyun, and if you were to wait for him again, for the longest time— and maybe the last time, then so be it.

you’re not going to leave until you get what you wanted. 

“don’t worry about me, wonpil. i’m sorry for intruding on your night,” you apologize, bowing down before him as you make your way to younghyun’s bedroom. thankfully, he left it unlocked, and you swung the door open and close in an instant. with your back on the door, your labored breathing comes back— it took a lot from you to stay calm, collected, and unbothered by what’s going on. you didn’t want to make it a big deal, they’ve seen this before, and it usually gets resolved.

like you said, forgiveness was not an uncommon concept with you and younghyun. you believe it’s essential with how… complicated your relationship is with each other. you’ve fucked up a couple of times, said things that weren’t within your best intentions to, and younghyun didn’t hold grudges because of them. 

he would be upset, justifiably so, but after a day or two, you were both back to normal. he reassures you there wasn’t any bad blood, and he understand the frustration himself. 

from then on, you tried— really hard not to fuck things up anymore because it’s scary. it’s terrifying to think about the consequences of unwanted words, uncalled for actions with a person whose schedule is jam packed everyday, and his thoughts never ending. 

younghyun is always on the run, whether that be hopping from studio to studio or collecting ideas for a new song and another. 

it’s not like you aren’t busy yourself, but the degree to which he pushes himself further into his career is miles ahead from yours. and it’s not your place to complain about, it’s your choice to be supportive, though. which you promised. from day one, and he kissed you like it was the one answer he needed to hear.

you miss it. you miss him, his lips, his touch; everything that screamed younghyun, it’s right here. in his room. the only thing missing is the person himself, him. 

you walk over to his bed, kept clean and sheets folded. always organized, rarely leaving miscellaneous crap in random places. sometimes it’s intimidating, to visualize the kind of person who inhabits this room, but knowing who he is, you feel safer than insecure here. 

walking over to his desk, a black notebook sits atop with a pen to the side. ah, you notice the cap is missing, and you look for the miniscule thing all over the place. you find it on top of his dresser, and quickly put it back in its place. 

you guess, there are some things that younghyun forgets, that he misses, but never the big picture. 

you’re tempted to turn the pages over, but respect his privacy nonetheless. it might be lyrics he’s not ready to show anyone yet, and you of all people know what it’s like to write something new, a genre you haven’t dipped your pen in yet. it’s quite the daunting experience to bring it into the world, for other inquisitive eyes to read. 

most of the time, younghyun’s words are never amiss. in fact, they always fall in the category of perfect, for you. you don’t like to admit that because he will never believe you, so it’s best to keep it a secret for yourself. 

you enjoy his new releases better that way, making you feel more special in a sense that you’ve heard his melodies first. you’ve heard the stories behind these metaphors face to face. 

you wish you could see him face to face right now. 

before you forget, you pull out your phone and pull up younghyun’s messages with you. your text was sent three hours ago, and it was read which made you think okay, he’s seen it and acknowledged the fact that you’re coming over, maybe he’ll reply once he gets a break soon. 

he never did. 

you scroll up to the previous messages, a lot of back and forth short phrased responses that don’t mean as much as the way you guys would constantly bombard each other with long conversations. 

have you eaten? yeah, a lot. you? yup, out with a friend rn. ight, stay safe. u too. 

r u asleep? no, in the studio. oh, it’s super late. yeah, working on stuff. alright, text me when u’re home? i’ll try. 

he never did. 

feeling a tear fall down to your cheek, you wipe it away roughly and begin to type another text. 

i’m at the dorm. the boys didn’t know i’d be here. do you remember our promise? please respond.

your hand hovers on the send button for longer than you thought, and you bite your lip in anticipation for a decision so foggy in your brain. should you? should you be this upfront and accusatory? it’s not that bad, right, because he did promise. and now you’re here, the only one taking care of that promise— what’s his excuse?

i’m at the dorm. the boys didn’t know i’d be here. are you coming back soon? is what you sent instead, feeling the lump on your throat getting bigger and your eyes welling up hot, salty tears. you try to compose yourself. sitting on the edge of his bed, hands going over his white sheets as a way to ground yourself. 

you can’t cry, the walls are too thin and dowoon or wonpil will know. and wonpil will be too polite to leave you alone, and dowoon wouldn’t know how to confront the situation and just run to his room leaving wonpil by himself. 

it felt like forever that you wake up uncomfortable lying down on younghyun’s bed. you blink a few times before sitting up straight, your side hurting from the way you fell asleep on the mattress. you straighten out the right half of your hair that had been messed up having plopped down on the pillow, and look for your phone in your purse. 

it has been an hour since you got here, and no new notifications on your phone. 

you have had a fair share of getting stood up on blind dates before meeting younghyun, and at one point you stopped caring. boys don’t deserve your tears, you’ve never even met them and if they thought you were fooled by their persona online, then they were dead wrong.

but this is younghyun, the guy who proved himself different. the guy who came to your first date spot prim and proper, an hour earlier than the designated time. to think you were actually going to cancel this one because it was too tiring, too predictable at this point. 

but seeing his selfie that day, a table already reserved for the two of you and you haven’t even gotten ready yet, you felt guilty for assuming so wrongly of him. 

two years later, you’re thinking you should have listened to your gut all this time. 

as you are about to leave and practice what you have to say to the boys in the living room, the door opens and in comes a disheveled looking younghyun. his coat hangs on his arm, his hair a little haggard but his smile soon disappears upon seeing you invading his space. 

“oh, you’re here.”

oh? you’re here?

you stand up from the bed, eyes directly staring at him just five feet away from you even though he feels like a galaxy away with that kind of answer. 

“did you look at the texts i sent you?” you deadpan, trying your hardest not to seem fragile. 

younghyun shakes his head, plops the coat on his dresser and shrugs. “i’ve been busy, did you need something?” 

“you don’t remember?” 

he stands rigidly, his own fox like eyes avoiding your burning stare. they focus on the wall, with his lips in a tight line. 

he looks different to you. 

there’s something about the younghyun in front of you that makes you question your presence in his room. and how unwanted he’s making you feel. 

“younghyun, what’s going on?” 

“what do you mean by that?”

“don’t play dumb with me. you promised, hell, we promised we would see each other tonight,” you remind him, your voice rising a pitch higher and it strains your throat. you drop your purse on his bed, and cross your arms defensively. 

anything to make you feel safer in the cold that has entered the room once he got in. 

“something came up, i’m sorry. you know how work has been,” younghyun explains nonchalantly, still refusing to see you. refusing to tell you the truth with his eyes. 

it’s not enough anymore. 

“you could have texted? you could have let wonpil or dowoon or even sungjin tell me that , you’re busy, you can’t even do that?” 

“i don’t want to bother them.”

“well, younghyun, guess what? you’re bothering me!” your sudden outburst causes him to turn towards you, eyes wide and brows furrowed. 

they definitely heard that, and they’re definitely listening from the outside. but any worries about your image towards his friends had gone out the window by now, only to be left with an ounce of desperation for an explanation. an answer. an apology, even. 

he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you’re scared to break off the eye contact at this point. you’re determined to tell him you’re not really mad, just frustrated. you’re not holding a grudge, you just want to hear it from him that he didn’t mean to do this to you. that he didn’t mean to hurt you this way.

your vision gets blurry, but you force the tears to pool over your eyes and not fall down. not right now, not when his gaze is steel and intimidating. 

“i’m leaving, stay as much as you’d like but i’m not going to be back until midnight,” he dismisses  you, grabbing his coat to bring it with him. 

a scorn burns on your mouth, words tasting like lead when you say: “leave, that’s all you know how to do.”

this stops him from his tracks. a pin can drop in the middle of the room, and you still can’t hear it. your thoughts are screaming, a headache forming on your temples not understanding how it’s come to this so suddenly. 

you didn’t mean that, but now your tears are saying sorry for you. you sob standing up, arms on either side and hands shaking from the pent up frustration popping out of your veins. 

you’re tired, so tired of being the one to adjust. of being the one to stay when he leaves, and foolishly wait for him to come back. only that he doesn’t, and this time he probably never will anymore.

“pull yourself together,” younghyun tells you, tone hinting pity which aggravates you further. he doesn’t look as mad anymore, but his shoulders are tense and his eyes fierce. “we can talk later. i have dinner with heejin and i still need to record kiss the radio later—”

“dinner? with who?” you snap, tears momentarily stopping with the mention of a name you’re unfamiliar of. “when did you schedule this? could it not have waited after tonight when i have been asking you for some time together for this very day?” 

younghyun rakes his fingers through already unkempt hair forcefully, distaste in his mouth as he shoots back at you, “i told you i’ve been busy, heejin and i have a song together and it’s supposed to come out in two days so we’re meeting up as much as we can—”

“yeah, okay. over dinner, at a fancy restaurant away from a recording studio, am i right?”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“younghyun, it’s my fucking birthday,” you talk over him, your voice speaking over the loud beating of your heart. sweat drips down your temple, the headache hammering itself on your skull as the tears escape down the surface of warm cheeks. suddenly, you hear yourself laughing. monotonous, without emotion, as you see younghyun’s scowl snap into a look of confusion, then of realization. 

“i know what the fuck i’m talking about, brian. and from the looks of it, you don’t. you never did.” 

“you should have told me—”

“and i need to remind you of that? after knowing each other for years?” you snap back. the walls vibrate with the volume of your cries, and you hear a knock on the door and a person asking if everything is alright. 

younghyun looks back, but doesn’t respond and turns to you with pained eyes, a fine line between guilt and feeling bitter. he knows he should have remembered. besides, your first date with him was on your birthday too. 

“enjoy your fucking evening, brian. i’ll see myself out,” you mutter under hot breath, breathing hard and eyes red. grabbing your purse, you walk past the man you thought you knew. and now he just feels cold. 

it stings when he grabs you, and he loosens his grip when you exclaim loudly. “brian, stop.”

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry i fucked up.”

“it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“yes, yes it does,” he pleads, pulling you closer to his body. you shiver, not liking the way he presses into you with a desperate attempt to forgive him. maybe if it wasn’t today, you’d drown yourself in his needy touches, inhale the scent you miss having all over your skin, kiss younghyun on the lips and understand he’s human too. 

not anymore, not when all the chances you have given him were taken for granted, and there’s nothing left inside of you to give him another one. you’re all out, exhausted from the waiting, the forgiving, the crying. exhausted from it all. 

“younghyun, let me go. please. i’m tired.” 

he hesitates, but once you pull yourself off him he releases his stone cold grip. your eyes hover downward, face sticky from the tears you have shed. 

no more. 

coming out of his room, wonpil and dowoon are nowhere to be found anymore. it was only sungjin, sitting by the island counter, scrolling on his phone absent-mindedly. he notices your presence, looks up and offers you that warm smile of his even if his eyes sympathize with your heartbroken gaze.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

you close your eyes, shake your head and offer a grateful smile. for him. “not your fault. i’m sorry you had to hear that. please let the others know i’m deeply sorry.” 

“text me when you get home, okay?” sungjin hops off the barstool and places his hand on your shoulder this time, transferring the kind of warmth you have been needing all day, all week. 

you know he’s just being kind, roped into the tail end of your disastrous break up with younghyun so you nod once. he doesn’t take it and adds, “i’m serious. if i don’t hear from you, i will text you. multiple times. you’ve seen me do it.” 

with no escape from his compromise, you emit a small laugh and firmly nod this time. “okay, sungjin. thank you.”

“happy birthday, by the way,” he consoles you, and you do your best to keep another wave of pain locked up. you thank him, accepting the side hug he offers you, and make your way out the door. 

as the breeze outside doesn’t do well in vanishing the evident sadness on your expression. you walk the streets of the city holding in a breath, careful not to attract too much attention to your lonely self.

you get home barely alive, shoes left on the doorstep and your clothes slithered off on the hallway. you text sungjin what he wanted to hear, and once you’ve landed on your bed, you let it all out again. 

birthdays were never really a favorite “holiday” of yours before you met younghyun on this very same day two years ago. 

it was as if being alive on this earth for another year was a favor given to you by fate, having to know younghyun even more as the days go by past it. as much as he created meaning to your birthday for the past two years, this time, younghyun had destroyed everything you built together. 

the pieces are too small, much too fragile to make your heart whole again.

[haikyuuthots]

Jealousy is a disease, but maybe something good can come from it. - K. Tsukishima Pt.1

FWB!Reader x Tsukishima 

Warnings: Curse words , and I think that’s it? Bit angsty but has fluff towards the end hehe. 

Word count: 1.8k 

Y/n= Your name. During dialogue: Y= you T=Tsukki Ya= Yachi and A=Akaashi 

Summary: You and Tsukishima have been friends with benefits for a while. Both thinking it was a no strings attached situation, both unaware of the true feelings you guys had for each other. What happens when you both experience a bit of jealousy when you guys are seen talking to other people? Will this change the status of your relationship? 

author’s note: Hi! this is my first ever imagine, I wrote this at like 1 am and I’m not sure if this is good or not lol. This is part 1 of 3, if you happen to read let me know what constructive criticism you have for me. Hope you enjoy! 

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Annoyed that’s how you felt. 

Alright here’s some backstory. Tsukishima Kei and you, truly an odd pairing, & the definition of opposites attract. You were sweet and social while he was well, not. Although you were sweet you never took shit from anyone, and definitely had a sassy side, that’s what caught tsuki’s attention. You were the only one who was able to shut him up after an insult. 

“What? Being that short finally getting to you? I’ll admit it, it’s hard to not bump into you, with your height being so low ya know” -T

“You sure sound really bold for someone’s whose only personality trait is being 6’2. Tall and arrogant? Geez pick a struggle.” -Y

Complete silence. And you won his admiration. After that you guys became really good friends, and would hang out a lot. 

You’re not dating officially,  think of it more of a friends with benefits thing. Y’all fuck, hang out but no titles. Both okay with it not knowing both are secretly falling deeply in love with the other. 

*present time* 

Annoyed. That’s how you felt. Yeah jealousy is something you could never admit to feeling, your pride is just too strong. But that’s what you felt as you saw that pretty tall girl with long blonde hair talk and touch Tsukki. And he? Was just letting it happen. He didn’t seemed bothered at all which bothered you more because everything bothers him so why was he not pushing her away? Does he like her or something? “Never mind that, I don’t care.” You tell yourself but you do care and a lot.

You talk to your friend Yachi about it, she’s the only one that knows about you and Tsukki. You both manage the volleyball team so you’re pretty close. 

“He just let her touch him? Bitch was all over him” -Y

“Y/N if you’re so jealous just tell him how upset you are.” -Ya

“I am NOT jealous. - but if it were me doing that he’d be all mad and wouldn’t talk to me for a week. Like that’s so stupid. He can talk to other girls but I can’t talk to other guys? Hell no. I’m done with that bullshit.” -Y

“Don’t so anything dumb Y/N you know how salty he can get. Don’t wanna do anything you’d regret.” -Ya

“I won’t. I’m not the type of person to crave revenge.” -Y

* later that day* 

Earlier Kurro asked if you could watch him bokuto and Tsukki play so you could give them notes. (Secretly just wanting to see your interactions with Tsukki he had a feeling y’all were a thing) you agreed and brought Yachi along because she was so much better at taking notes anyway. 

You were there for almost an hour, when you got a little hungry. The nearest vending machine is what you wanted to find, but it was dark and you weren’t familiar with the campus. 

“Hey girl I’m really hungry do you know where the nearest vending machine is?” -Y

“No. Why don’t you ask Tsukki he’s been here before he must know.” -Ya

“Sis he’s in a middle of a game. Wait Akaashi is right there I’ll just ask him” -Y

“Y/N you’re not doing this to get Tsukki jealous are you? You know he’d flip if he saw you talk to him rn” -Ya

“Noooo, i already told you I’m not one to get revenge. And I don’t care what Tsukki thinks. I’m my own person. Plus the longer I stand here the hangrier I get so if you’ll excuse me.” -Y

“ oh boy” -Ya

You start walking over to Akaashi he’s paying attention to the game, looking up to you as you approach him. You’ve spoken to him a couple times but not regularly so you felt a bit awkward as you got closer. 

“Hey Akaashi, sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you knew where the nearest vending machine was? It’s kinda dark and I don’t really have the energy to wander around rn haha” -Y

He smiled “oh yeah, if you want I can walk you over there, I was thinking of getting the guys a couple snacks too anyway.” -A

“No no no you don’t have to do that.” You say frantically “really it’s okay I could go alone” 

“No seriously I’ll go with you it’s no problem” -A

“LOOK OUT” 

Everything happens so fast. Next thing you know you felt a rough shove on your shoulder and Akaashi was on the floor. He got hit by the volleyball straight in the face. You rushed to help him up and looked back. Kei was glaring at you two. He’s the one that threw the ball. You looked back and mouthed a “wtf” as you continued to ask Akaashi if he was okay. The boys came over to help him as well. 

“Maybe if you two weren’t gazing into each other’s eyes you would’ve noticed the ball coming your way.” Is all you guys hear. A snarky comment from Tsukki. 

“Tsukishima. You just hit him in the face with the ball, least you could do is apologize.” It was your turn to glare at him. 

He scoffed “sorry man.” No emotions as he said it. 

“Oh it’s all good accidents happen and really I’m ok. Are you ok Y/N? Sorry I pushed you out of the way so abruptly, didn’t want you to get hit by the ball too” 

“Uh what? No I’m fine. Thank you by the way. I truly appreciate it.” 

This interaction made Tsukki feel sick, he  felt a pit in his stomach and all he wanted to do was punch that stupid smile off Akaashi’s face. He’s an acquaintance, never had any bad blood but right now? Fuck did he hate him. 

“Alright I think we should call it a night” kurro says. 

Everyone agrees and begins to scatter to clean up. Bokuto grabs Akaashi and they walk out, said they were gonna find an ice pack. 

“Hey Y/N can you help me out with the mats over here?” Tsukki asks you, voice is lowered. 

“No. I was going to the vending machine before this so that’s where I’ll be heading.” To say you were mad was an understatement. You were pissed. His behavior of jealousy made your blood boil. 

As you begin to walk away you’re suddenly stopped. Tsukki grabs you by your wrist. “Alright then I’ll go with you.” 

Annoying. That’s what he is.

update: Part 2 and 3 are posted! 

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part Two.)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: blood imagery, injury, mention of death.

Context: The reader helps out Paul with his little problem, and tries to figure out what another Hunter is doing in Santa Carla.

A/N: I know there has been quite a gap between this and the last part, but I think I'm gonna try and get a new part out every Sunday, so that I have time for requests, school work and other fics. I apologise if this is a bit short 💛💛

Masterlist.

Yet another strangled whine of pain escapes the shirtless vampire propped against the fountain before me, his slick blood already coating my hands generously after only five minutes of working the barbed splinters of wood from his muscular abdomen, the tweezers slipping in my grasp as I pull at one of the more deeply lodged pieces. Dimly, I am aware of the others watching me work, Marko biting his thumb so hard the skin has probaby broken by now, Dwayne silently eyeing my every move from his position beside David, whose face is etched with anger and frustration. Thankfully, I'm pretty sure there aren't that many left, maybe one or two, meaning that the vampire's discomfort should soon be over, something which I can tell will be gratefully appreciated.

Finally, the splinter I'm working at comes free, drawing yet another hiss of pain from Paul, whose head falls back against the fountain with a thud, blue eyes squeezed tightly shut as the wound starts to stitch itself closed, his natural healing ability kicking in pretty quickly. I drop the piece if wood on the floor beside me and wipe the tweezers clean on my shirt, seeing as it is already covered in blood, trying to pat away some of the crimson substance from the vampire's skin as I go, locating the next couple of places I need to pick clean. Biting my lip, I place a hand beside the wound and use two fingers to gently pry it apart, inserting the tweezers as I find the end of the splinter, clamping down on it even as Paul moans again, blood oozing out of the incision as I start to pull. This one eases out pretty smoothly, leaving only one more that needs removing, one which is right beside where his heart is.

"One more." I reassure him, cleaning the tweezers again before leaning forwards and inserting them into the hole in his skin, trying not to prod around too much as I search for the offending splinter, swiftly locating it and going to try and pull it out. Instantly, the tweezers slip off, the small piece of wooden shrapnel barbed and stuck in the flesh, meaning it'll be much harder to remove. Gritting my teeth, I carefully pull the hole open further, trying not to wince as Paul's hand instinctively comes up to grip my wrist, nearly crushing the bones there as he tries to get me to stop, his grasp only tightening as I finally manage to yank it free, one last cry of agony escaping him as he relaxes back against the fountain, nearly sobbing in relief. Sitting back on my heels, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, shaking my hair from my face as I wipe my hands on my shirt, slowly standing up from my kneeling position.

"All done, they should heal now." I say to him, turning to the others with a grim smile, knowing that my appearance is not the most impressive, what with my hands being covered in blood and all.

"Thank you, (Y/n). I don't honestly know what we would've done." Dwayne thanks me, smiling gratefully to me as he goes to help Paul up, Marlo going to aid him in that as the tall vampire continues to whine to himself.

"I don't know, pulling splinters out with tweezers is not the most technical thing in the world, is it?" I point out, watching as they help Paul to his feet and over to a sofa, where they give him back his shirt and jacket.

"No, but still. You didn't need to help us, so thank you." David speaks up, looking at me in earnest as he adjusts his gloves, body still tense.

"It's no problem, just don't tell my boss." I reply, grimacing at the last part, being able to imagine his face if he found out already.

"We won't." The platinum blonde smirks, lifting an eyebrow at me, well aware that what I'm doing could get me hunted to my death if I was ever caught.

Smiling at him, I look to the entrance of the cave, noting the lightness of the sky outside with a sigh, knowing I'll have to return home now, so I can deal with the Hunter tied to my floor. The vampires seem to realise this, too, all of them quickly saying goodbye as I make my excuses, leaving the cave with the tweezers slipped into my pocket, my jacket pulled tightly around me as I start the long walk home, thinking up a story to tell the man in question. It shouldn't be too hard - I can make something up about him being attacked, and then found by me a little while later, somehow left alive by the vampire. I iron out all the details as I trek through the forest, enjoying the slightly cooler temperature of the early morning, glad now that I live in a more natural area, rather than the lousy motel I was required to stay in before. With my head in the clouds, it doesn't take me as long as I thought it would to reach the ramshackle shed, the sounds of someone calling out from inside already audible from my position behind the tree line to its left. The Hunter must be awake.

Sighing, I go over to the door and unlock it, swiftly finding the Hunter on the floor when I've done so, his rugged face twisted into a scowl of annoyance, only for it to turn into an expression of confusion as he takes in my appearance, his legs pulled up to his chest in a defensive gesture, ready to kick out at me if I provoke him to do so.

"Thank God you're awake! I thought you might've passed in your sleep!" I sigh out, starting the charade immediately, smiling at him as I close the door behind me, making sure to show him the insignia on my shoulder as I turn.

"Who are you? How did I get here? And why the hell am I chained to the floor?" He growls out, clearly not too pleased with the situation. I frown at his reaction, as if annoyed that he's rejecting my "hospitality".

"I'm (Y/n), an SRS Hunter like you, and I dragged you here after you got attacked by vampires in the dunes. You're chained to the floor because I don't trust you not to steal from me and then run off." I inform him, going to the table and replacing the tweezers, "Now, you'd better not prove to be like that anyway, or I'll report you to a superior officer, and we all know how that will end. You should be thanking me, I saved your life after all."

At this, he looks up at me in surprise, sitting forwards slightly as I bend to untie him, rubbing his wrists gently as he climbs back to his feet, revealing his height to me - he stands a good head above me. Smiling tightly, I offer him my hand, only to realise it's covered in blood, swiftly withdrawing it with a soft apology.

"Why are you so...bloodied?" The Hunter asks me, watching as I go to the bucket of water in the corner, rinsing my hands and arms in the icy depths, "I'm Archer, by the way."

"I spent the rest of the night chasing down your attackers. I got them in the end, but they put up one hell of a fight." I explain, lying through my teeth as I straighten again, drying my hands on a cloth nearby, "Do you mind just stepping out as I change?"

With a nod, he leaves the shack, going to stand outside as I hastily remove my filthy shirt and trousers, replacing them with clean ones as I grab my jacket again, inspecting the damage, noting that it isn't too bad overall. Relacing my boots back up, I take a cereal bar from the small cupboard in the corner and go out to see if Archer is still there, glad to find him sitting on the log outside. As I exit, he looks over to me, watching as I walk over to where he is, smiling and thanking me as he accepts the cereal bar from me, carefully unwrapping it and eating it.

"So tell me, why did you come to Santa Carla?" I break the silence, looking over at him as he shrugs.

"I was told to by one of the superiors, someone called Elijah, I think. He said he wanted someone to come and check on the Hunter over here." He chews his food before continuing, "At least now I know who that Hunter is."

"Yeah, I guess." I muse, troubled by his words. Elijah is an old friend, I never knew he'd become a superior whilst I was away. But the fact that he wants to check on me? That doesn't bode too well for me.

"I just got a bit caught up with some vampires that were on that attraction thing, the Broadwalk or something." Archer says, finishing up the food.

"The Boardwalk." I correct him, smirking a bit at his attitude, finding him quite pleasant to be around, "You think you're gonna stay?"

"Nah, I don't like it here. It's too small and weird for me. I'll go back to New Orleans and say you're doing fine, I reckon they'll be ok with that." He assures me, looking around at the surroundings.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Do you want me to show you back into town?" I offer, eating my own cereal bar quickly, standing and going to the door of the shack, closing it and drawing the chain across in order to lock it.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

Smiling, I gesture for him to follow me, leading him the quickest way possible back into town, glad that he's not looking into my residence too much.

A week passes before I receive the one thing I've been dreading, Archer's recount of events apparently not quite satisfactory.

A letter from the SRS, announcing the date of a visit from a senior officer, the situation here apparently needing assessment. When I find this, I try my best not to panic too much, knowing full well that I'm at risk of being found out.

Part Three.