#fingers crossed I can get a ticket soon cos man. this is like my most anticipated film of 2023

[fiendslothful]

ALL OF US STRANGERS IS SHOWING IN MY TOWN LETS FUCKING GOOOO!!!!

[champagne-bucky]

Come Sail Away ⛵️

Summary: You and Bucky go on a vacation which leads to an unexpected turn of events.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, SMUT, dub-con if you squint, fingering,��hand job, spanking, daddy kink. 

Notes: Hey everyone! This is my entry for @imanuglywombat ‘s Ugliest Wombat Challenge. This theme that I chose is Beach Babes so here’s what I came up with. This was loosely inspired by the TV show The Nanny, if you know the episode I’m referencing then you know it’s about to go down. Anyways, please like, comment, reblog, inbox, and follow me for more!! Enjoy :)

The warm summer sun was beating down deliciously on your skin. The salt from the bright blue sea infiltrated your nostrils and was filled with with the scent of summer. Ah, summertime, where the days were unbearably hot and the nights mimicked the same. Less clothing to be worn and not a care in the world. 

You welcomed the warm weather with open arms. After dealing with a gruesome winter, and a spring which brought no tease of its following season, you were more than ready to throw your heavy coat into storage and get on the first bathing suit you could find. Yes, summer was here and you were drinking in every inch of the wonderful season. 

Work was rough this winter. Spending days to sometimes months in places that weren’t your own bed, sleeping in the most horrid conditions, and worst of all, the inclement weather had gotten you sick more times than you could count on both hands. Well, that’s what you signed up for with being an Avenger and all. You might not have super soldier serum to suppress the frigid air or a suit which comes with a built in heater to offer a blast of warmth in all the right places, but you have a nice week long cruise (courtesy of Tony) to forget about those lone nights in Siberia which ended up leaving you bed ridden for two weeks. 

Now you’re here, standing on the ships edge looking out of the vast ocean. Not a singular care in the world crosses your mind. You craved this, you craved the peace and bliss. 

“You stay out here any longer I’m afraid you’ll jump overboard and be one with the fishes,” Bucky chuckles from behind you and startles you. 

He was asked by Tony to “keep watch over you” which was code for “Barnes you need this vacation just as much as her, please for the love of God relax,” however, Tony would never tell him that. Bucky enjoyed working, a little too much. After all this time he was finally able to be the good guy for once and did whatever he could to keep the newly acquired bravado intact. 

“Barnes, didn’t expect to see you so close to me. Usually you’re hiding out of my line of sight, or so you thought,” you muttered the last part to yourself. He was really taking this watching over thing seriously. 

“Was getting bored. I’m starting to think this mission was more a vacation for me and you,” Bucky shakes his head and chuckles. 

“You’re just now figuring out Stark’s master plan?” You kiddingly scoffed as Bucky rolled his eyes at you. “Ya know, you really could use a break.” 

“I got all the time in the world to have a break.” 

“Oh yeah? When?” You challenged him. 

“When I’m dead,” Bucky winked at you before walking off to his room, announcing that he was going to take shower. 

“Oh before I go, dinner later?” 

“Depends will you be sitting with me or sitting from afar like the last couple nights?” You kid with him and he rolled his eyes. 

“You’re a real pain in my ass, ya know that?” 

“Hey, someone’s gotta be,” you winked and Bucky turned away fast, mainly to hide the blush spreading on his cheeks.

“See ya later,” Bucky called out to you. 

—

Debating on whether or not was a good time to pull yourself away from the amazing view of the ocean, you had to sadly leave your peaceful space on the balcon and go meet Bucky for dinner. A quick shower and a few shimmies into the beautiful gown Natasha lent you later, you were on your way to dinner. 

Tony gave his team nothing but the best. From top of the line technology and the best clothes money could buy, he made sure that you and Bucky got a luxurious treatment while on this vacation. This included dinner at the most refined restaurant on the ship’s deck. It was so exclusive that you needed to book your reservation there first before you booked your tickets for the cruise. Of course, Tony being Tony, and your title as an Avenger, made it easy for the restaurant to put your names down in their coveted black book of mile long reservations. 

Now here you are, standing a little ways from the hostess desk waiting for your beloved co-worker. While you waited you took in the beautiful scenery of the restaurant. So classy and elegant you felt out of place even if you had on an expensive gown. You were so caught up in the extravagance that you didn’t notice a hand at the small of your back. 

“You clean up nice,” Bucky stood next to you in a suit and tie. He had recently cut his hair before the trip, but that didn’t stop him from throwing in a little gel. 

“I could same the same for you too. New product?” The two of you made small talk as Bucky gave Tony’s name for reservation. 

Unbeknownst to the two of you, the hostess eyed both and you up and down and warily took you to your table. 

—

Dinner was fantastic. Like the restaurant’s atmosphere the food also had an elegant taste to it. The wait staff was equally classy and charming to all the patrons too. You and Bucky were sipping on expensive wine and dining on fine desserts until a waiter, not yours, approached you. 

“Did we enjoy everything so far?” Bucky looked at the man confused. 

“Yeah, yeah everything was great thank you,” being the polite person you are you gave the waiter a smile. 

“Well we love hearing that customers, let alone two Avengers, are enjoying the establishment. Anyways, I was sent to come tell you that the captain has requested your presence at his table overlooking the sea. A little birdie told me you two enjoy quite a view,” Bucky was on guard at all times during this exchange. It’s not that he didn’t trust the waiter it was that he wondered why their waiter wasn’t getting them. 

“Sounds good to me. C’mon Buck let’s go,” you stood up and began to follow the waiter. Bucky reluctantly got up and pulled your arm so that you were walking at his pace. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little fishy that right after we get done eating the captain wants to see us?”

“Oh Bucky, who cares! Maybe he didn’t want to interrupt us or something,” Bucky was always a paranoid person. 

“I just got a bad feeling about this that’s all,” you giggled and shook your head in attempt to brush off Bucky and not appear rude towards the waiter. 

“And here we are! Captain Richards will be out momentarily,” and just like that the waiter was gone leaving you and Bucky to your own devices. 

Not long after Captain Richards appeared. He offered you both a glass of wine and you both drank. Bucky was a little hesitant but decided to drink after you made a move to your second glass. Soon, one glass turned into almost half a bottle of expensive wine gone. You were swimming and Bucky was grinning like a mad man. 

“Sergeant, would you mind fetching me and this beautiful young lady another bottle? I’d get up but I don’t have your tolerance and can barely walk a straight line,” Bucky was happy to oblige and went to Richards quarters. 

“So when will you be leaving us Ms. Avenger?” Richards asks you. 

“Bucky and I dock in two days in Mexico. We were planning on flying back to New York,” you slowly got up and ran over to the balcony. Your drunken state was taking in the dark misty waters. 

“Well we will be missing you greatly Miss,” Richards has his hand on your back, lightly pressing you into the railing. “It’ll be such a shame that no one will be seeing you anymore, around the decks I mean,” you eyed the older man up and down. What did he just say?

“It’s such a shame, I do like you and your little partner but in order for us to continue our plans we can’t let the law, let alone a group of super freaks, ruin it,” with a harsh shove your body was lurched off the balcony. 

Your reflexes hit fast and you snapped out of your inebriated state. Last second you cling onto the very last bar of the balcony. Your heels were knock off and sunk into the water. 

“Little shit c’mere,” Richards growled as he stomped his heavy boot on your fingers. He crushed down so hard and you almost didn’t budge but your grip was weakening. He squished and scraped both hands successfully off the bar and you fell into the ocean. 

“Y/N? Captain? Is everything alright,” Bucky emerged from the captains quarters with a new bottle of wine. 

“Oh Sergeant, please help! Your comrade just flung herself overboard!” RIchard’s yelled. 

“What! Oh fuck, Stark’s gonna kill me! Hang on I’m coming! You gotta stop the boat. Alert the coast guard,” Bucky struggled to free himself of both shoes. He made is way over the balcony and plunged in to find you. 

“Will do Sergeant,” Richards grinned evilly when he heard a solid plunk in the water. “Will do.” The captain chuckled darkly before pulling up a com on his wrist, “the threats have been eliminated. Hail Hydra.”

—

13 hours missing

You awoke with a gasp. It felt like air had hit your lungs for the first time in ages. Your body was wet and the gown was sticking all over you, not to mention the sand in unwanted places. You barely had a chance to register your surroundings. 

“Bucky? Bucky!? Bucky are you here?!” You finally stood up, legs wobbling a little, and you tried to find your super human friend. 

“Oh fuck, Bucky are you okay?” After walking down a long strip of beach you found him. His face was planted in the sand and his shoes were long gone. He seemed like he was breathing but still unconscious. 

“BUCKY WAKE UP,” You yelled and pushed Bucky with all your might to turn him over. Bucky, much like you, awoke with a gasp and claimed as much fresh air as he could. 

“What? Huh, where are we? Y/N?! Oh my god, you’re okay?!” Bucky was a babbling mess and couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Richards threw me off the boat!”

“Threw you? He told me you got drunk and fell over! That fucking bastard!” 

Bucky began to explain how he jumped in after you and grabbed you. He saw the boat wasn’t stop so he tried his best to swim after it. Not long after he grew tired and the waves were picking up. Low and behold here you both are, trapped on a deserted island. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out. 

“We are so fucked,” after a while and sitting around and doing nothing you and Bucky decided to make some type of shelter. 

“You think they’ll find us?” You questioned. 

“They have to. They’ll know somethings up when we don’t come back,” Bucky finished putting together a leaf type hut and was now getting wood for a fire. 

“What are we going to do?” 

“There’s nothing to do. We gotta wait it out and hope they’ll come looking for us,” Bucky sighed and hauled over some wood from fallen tree branches. 

You could only hope Tony and the team would come looking for you. Neither you or Bucky had an idea of how long you’ve been on the island. Clearly not long enough that neither of your starved, but still there was no matter is finding out when someone would rescue you. 

—

One week missing

“Buckyyyyyyy,” you groaned irritably, “I’m so hot and so hungryyyy.”

It had been over one week since you both fell overboard. No one had come to rescue you yet  and your were becoming impatient. 

“I told you that if you’re so hot to rip that fucking dress and make it shorter,” Bucky grumbled. 

Bucky had been done with your shit by now. The days and nights were so unbearably hot that you both were losing your minds. Bucky had ripped up his suit into shorts a wore a t-shirt under his suit. It wasn’t much but it had to do. 

“But I can’t! Natasha will kill me if I rip her dress,” you whined for the millionth time. 

“The heat’s gonna kill you before she does,” you gasped at Bucky’s rude comment. 

“Don’t say that. Don’t say we’re gonna die out here!” 

“I’m not gonna die but you will if you don’t rip the fuck dress,” Bucky’s voice grew louder. You’d be damned if you had to rip this dress. 

“Buckyyy,” you whined his name again. 

“WHAT!” Bucky yelled in irritation causing you to shift back from where you were sitting. 

“I’m hot,” you really were driving him and yourself stir crazy. 

“I can’t fucking stand this shit. C’mere,” Bucky lunges towards you and you tried to scramble away. He was fast and grabbed your ankle. 

“Aww you’re hot sweetheart? Lemme fix that,” he grabbed the gown at the bottom and tore a big slit. It was torn all the way up your thigh. It showed everything and nothing at the same time. 

You tried to kick him off but he worked too fast. Bucky made his way towards the middle of the dress and ripped right below where your breasts were. He easily made the expensive gown a shitty slit skirt and a crop top. Sure, it felt a little cooler, but now you almost felt naked in front of your co-worker. 

“The next time I hear you complaining I won’t hesitate to rip that outfit to shreds,” you choked back a gasp as Bucky got up and made his way to get more firewood. You almost missed the hint of lust in his eyes

—

Two weeks missing 

Your body was dirty, your stomach barely filled, and damn it it was getting more and more hot as the seconds ticked away. You starts to lose hope that anyone would come looking for you and Bucky. Speaking of, Bucky was becoming more and more irritated with each passing day. 

His words to you were clipped responses or inaudible grunts. You were almost afraid to ask him a question in fear that he would kill you. Of course he wouldn’t, but you didn’t want to hear him yelling at you anymore. 

Night had fallen and the bugs started to come out. Icky mosquitos leaving scratchy bite marks all over both your skin. Bucky would slap a few on himself every so often, but you kept scratching away. 

“Stop doing that,” Bucky spoke as you dig your too long nails into your skin, “you’re gonna bleed from all that scratching.”

“I can’t, it’s so itchy. How am I suppose to get them to stop?”

“There’s a hot spring a little ways into the woods, I can show you and you can shower off,” he tried to be nice, but his irritably was peaking through. 

“Ew gross, you bathed in there too,” you didn’t want to get naked on this island, hell with how Bucky’s been acting who knows what he might do if he saw you naked. 

“So I’m gross now? After all I’ve been doing for you? You think I’m gross,” Bucky’s eyes narrowed in on you. 

“It’s just, you used that spring too, so isn’t that like contaminated?” You tried your best to put the words nicely but Bucky wasn’t having it. 

Bucky chuckled, “I can’t believe this. I gave us a shelter, I’ve been busting my ass to get you food, fuck I even dived into the fucking ocean to save your ass. And you,” he seethed, “you—you are so fucking ungrateful and I’ve just about HAD IT!” 

You froze in your spot as Bucky yelled at you. Tears were brimming your eyes as you tried not to let them fall. He was right, you have been acting a little bratty, but you chalked it up to blame on minimal food and heat distress. 

A tear spilled from your eye and you looked down to wipe it away. The last thing you wanted was for Bucky to see you cry. What you didn’t realize, was that Bucky made his way over to with hatred in his eyes. 

In one swift motion, Bucky grabbed you by your knotty hair and positioned you across his lap. Your eyes widened as you began to kick and push yourself away. You only stopped when Bucky laid a smack on your ass. 

“Stop moving,” Bucky spanked you again. 

“I’ve been nothing but kind to you and this is how I get treated,” *smack*, “given you shelter,”  *smack*, “food,”  *smack*, “would it be too hard to get a simple THANK,”  *smack*, “YOU,”  *smack*. 

Bucky assaulted your bottom five more times before he heard you crying. He pushing you off of him and you laid face down in the sand. He brushed off your cries and walked past you. 

“C’mon let’s get to bed. If I so much as hear a sniffle your ass will be redder than a sun burn,” Bucky sauntered into the hut leaving you in the sand to collect yourself. 

—

Three weeks missing 

You avoided Bucky like the plague. The only time you would see him was when you went to bed. He left you your food for the day but you ate it long after he went to sleep. It was a good system, for you at least. All that was on your mind was forming a plan out of here. 

The day was no hotter than the last, if not more. You ended up tearing off more of the gown and made a short skirt for yourself. The only problem was the little slit but you didn’t care. It’s not like anybody was going to be looking, or touching there, anyways. 

That’s another thing you were mad about. Almost a month since you got stranded and you were feeling deprived of touch. You wouldn’t dare touch yourself with Bucky sleeping next to you, and sadly your discreet toy was hidden away in your suitcase. It was probably tossed overboard so the ship wouldn’t be held responsible.

You gnawed at the tiny wet sensation between your legs. You wouldn’t be lying if Bucky’s half naked form wasn’t turning you on. Oh, and getting spanked had you withering a little during the nights. You longed to find some sexy guy on the cruise that would fuck your brains out. Sure, Bucky isn’t ugly, but he is your co-worker and you don’t like mixing business and pleasure. 

“FUCK, Y/N!” You heard a scream coming from the woods. 

“Y/N, HELP ME PLEASE!” You ran towards where the screams were coming from. 

You saw Bucky stumble out of the woods. His shirt was off and only a pair of boxers on. Bucky was grabbing his thigh which was dripping blood. 

“Oh my god, Bucky what happened!” 

“I was bathing in the fucking hot spring and when I got out this stupid fucking snake fucking bit my fucking thigh,” he was curing up a storm and clenching his jaw hard. 

“Was it poisonous?” 

“Y/N, I don’t know, but if it is then you need to suck the poison out,” Bucky started to lose his balance. You held him up but he kept sinking down. 

“Please, I’m sorry, help me,” Bucky has tears in his eyes and was shaking. 

“Okay, okay I’ll help you,” you knelt down to where to bite was and put your lips to his thigh. 

Bucky gasped as you lightly started to suck. Once you thought you had a good amount you spit it off to the side. You put your lips back and sucked vigorously. Bucky felt himself growing hard and tried to maintain it. 

You weren’t paying much attention to the main above you. He was tending up and you had minimal time get as much poison out of him, depending if he had any or not. You heard Bucky gasping above you but ignored him. He loosened up a bit and put his hand in your hair. He stroked it a little as you tried to pull away to spit more poison out. Then, he stopped you. 

“That’s enough, baby. I think you got it,” you were still faced with his thigh until you slowly began to look up. He was hard. Very hard. His boxers had a tiny wet spot on this and he was trying to contain himself. 

“I-I could go if you-“

“No,” Bucky finally looked down at you, “your good with your mouth aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

You blushed furiously and looked away. Bucky’s fingers tilted your chin up towards him. 

“Don’t be shy now,” he paused, “fuck I really wanna kiss you,” Bucky licked his lips and eyes you up and down. 

“Then why don’t you?” Your voice spoke before your brain could process anything. 

“Come down here sweetheart,” your body was vibrating with ecstasy and excitement. 

You slowly crawled up to him and planted your lower body in between the leg that wasn’t bitten. You laid on top of him and stared at him for a moment. The moment lasted to long for Bucky’s liking and he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you forward. 

Your lips met with a crash. The kiss was opened mouthed and sloppy. The exposed parts of your warm bodies was enough to send a pool into your panties. Bucky moaned deeply into the kiss. He tried pulling you even closer.

Your mind was swirling around in lustful thoughts. It almost didn’t register to you the way you ground down on his thigh. You both moaned. Bucky urged you on with his hand firmly on the small of your back. 

You started to grind harder and slower wanting to savor it all. Bucky finally broke the miss and you both gasped for air. You kept your forehead pressed against his. 

“Baby, let me touch you,” he rasped out. 

“B-but it feels s’good,” you moaned getting wetter by the second. 

“I’ll make it feel even better, princess.”

You begrudgingly rolled on to your back beside Bucky. Bucky careful got on his side and looked you up and down. He groaned and licked his lips taking you in. Slowly he removed your top. 

“Think you can get the rest off for me, honey?” You shook your head and rapidly pulled off the mini skirt and your panties. 

Bucky was hard as a rock and began to slowly palm himself through his boxers. You removed his hand and palmed him yourself. Bucky trialed a hand down your body all the way to your aching pussy. 

“So wet, did I make you this wet, honey?” You bit your lip and shook your head. You began palming him faster. 

“As much as I enjoy this I think he would like skin to skin contact,” you eyes widened more as Bucky began to circle your sweet little nub. 

You dipped your hand under his boxers. He was big, really fucking big, and he was leaking from the tip. You started to stroke him slowly and firmly. Bucky made quick work and started rubbing around your mound. 

He dipped a finger in and you gasped loudly. Bucky smirked and began his work. Quick thrusts in and out making the most beautiful squelching sounds you both ever heard of. The stimulation was setting you into overdrive as your stroked him faster. 

 “Princess,” you moaned out, “you’re soaking daddy’s fingers,” Bucky stopped all movement and looked up at you. You seemed unfazed and still withering in pleasure. Of course, you thought that by stopping movement he wanted a response, what you didn’t know was that he had just outed himself and his secret kink. 

“M’sorry daddy. I-I just like it so much,” little whimpers left your throat as you thrusted yourself on his fingers. Bucky was shocked that you responded but had no intentions of stopping you from fucking yourself on his fingers. 

“It’s okay baby, daddy likes it so much too,” Bucky picked you his motioned as a fast pace. 

You stopped stroking him due to the amount of pleasure you were receiving. He was like a jack rabbit thumping in and out of you. He then pulled his finger out of you completely. His big palm rubbed you all over. From clit to pussy you were drenched in your own arousal. 

“Gotta get you wet, gotta get you ready for daddy’s thick cock,” Bucky was a madman on a mission.

Your orgasm hit you like a bullet. You arched your back and screamed Bucky’s name. By the time you came down from your high your pretty sure your soul left your body. 

“Don’t think we are done just yet, princess.” 

—

Four weeks missing 

“FUCK, DADDY!” You screamed out as Bucky fucked you harshly against the tree. 

Ever since the snake bite incident, you and Bucky has been non stop fucking. Turns out you both needed to burn off that heat distress and having sex repeatedly was the way to do it. 

Morning, noon, and night Bucky had you on top of, under, ass up, mouth on, and sometimes back to, at all times. His cock became your new favorite seat. You two wouldn’t go anywhere without each other. Even while you were eating or bathing his cock stayed planted in you at all times. The days were hot but the night got cool after some intensive “exercise”. 

Now here you are, bare naked up against a tree getting pounded by your co-worker. Or were you technically lovers now? Doesn’t matter, all that matters is you cumming. 

“C’mon baby, let it out. Let it all out for daddy, baby,” after that day Bucky wouldn’t be Bucky anymore. You were always princess, honey, sweetheart, or baby. Bucky would always be daddy. 

You did slip up your third time fucking the first night by calling him Bucky. He growled and pulled out of you and spanked you till your ass was cherry red. You liked it and he liked it. It was like the pleasure you’ve both been dreaming of. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna ugh I’m gonna fucking explode in this pussy, honey. Would you like that? This little pussy fucking flooded in my cum. Say it baby, say you want my cum,” Bucky then laid you back on a giant rock and fucked you harder. 

“Daddy I want your cum. I want your cum in me and I want it all over me. Fuck daddy please please PLEASE!” You screamed out as you came again. 

Bucky moaned as he released into you. Give him five more minutes and he’ll be ready to go again. He was determined to make you body full of his cum. 

“Turn around baby, let’s see that gorgeous ass.”

—

“There,” Steve shouted over the radar.

“What? Did you find something?” Wanda ran over to where Steve was sitting. 

“I think I gotta hit on Bucky’s signal! Maybe Y/N is there with him?” Steve says. 

“We can only hope. Thank god Tony put that tracker in Bucky’s arm. We would’ve never found them,” Wanda says looking at the radar. 

“Hey if you want I can get a camera down there to see if they are there. Better we know now and not just see a random metal arm sticking out of the sand,” Wanda and Steve shot Clint a death glare. 

“Geez tough room. Okay sending a camera down,” Clint maneuvers the little drone camera to where Bucky’s signal is pinging from. 

Slowly the camera makes its way through the beachy landscape and into the wooded area of the island. There, the drone picks up two blurry figures. 

“Hey guys, I think I got something,” Clint calls Steve and Wanda over. 

“Is it them?”

“Maybe it’s a bear?” 

“Clint there are no bears on an island.” 

“Are they- are they naked?” Wanda’s eyes widen as the picture got clearer. 

“OH MY GOD MY EYES!” 

[thepurplesquip]

Ben 10/The Greatest Showman AU Chapter 2

Co-written by me and @minecraftninjerkid

Ben sat at his desk, already feeling the exhaustion kick in. He was working as a shipping clerk for the Bauman grocery chain, typing in information all day long. It was dreary and boring, two things he despised the most, but the money helped take care of his family, so he couldn’t complain. 

That was until one day his boss, Mr. Bauman, burst in, moaning with grief as he padded helplessly at the side of a man in a suit, presumably someone from the marketing hierarchy, walked ahead, stone-faced. 

“Ruined! I am ruined!” he wailed as he fell to his knees, sobbing grossly. Fearing this meant what he thought it did, Ben stood up from his seat, as did many of his coworkers, who gathered around their boss and asked what was wrong.

“The company’s gone bankrupt!” Bauman mourned. “All our trading ships are at the bottom of the sea! All because of a typhoon!”

A worried clamor broke out among the employees, but Ben seemed tiredly resigned to this. “Not again…oh well. At least it wasn’t my fault this time.”

“Typhoon season is FAR off,” he overheard one of his cos whispering to another. “I’ll bet it was the work of aliens!”

“Don’t be stupid, they’re off in hiding. No way those cowards would show their faces,”

“They would if it meant disrupting our lives!”

Ben packed his desk silently as his former coworkers spoke. The discrimination of aliens among humans was a common topic he overheard constantly. He personally thought aliens were beautiful and mysterious creatures, the exact kind of spark he had been seeking since he was young, but he knew better than to speak about an opinion different than the majority’s. It wasn’t time for that yet. 

It was then that Ben started to worry. Without his job, how was he going to take care of his family? As he packed up his things, pondering on what to do, he noticed the slips for the lost ships were still on his desk. Looking this way and that to make sure no one was looking, he quickly packed them in his suitcase, hoping they could be of use.

Soon, Ben arrived back to the small apartment he shared with his wife, Courtney, and his two sons, Cody and Kenny. He looked around at their home, which had seen better days. It was in dire need of repairs, something he wasn’t going to be able to give for a while now. 

Ben climbed up the stairs of the fire escape up to the roof, where he heard the laughter of his boys and the sweet voice of his wife. 

Courtney was hanging up laundry to dry as the boys were playing a game where they were pretending to be cowboys and Indians. “I’ve got you now, pardner!” Cody jeered, finger guns trained on his older brother. 

“Not for long, white devil!” Kenny shot back, windmilling his arms, throwing imaginary tomahawks. “Geronimooooooooooooooo-!”

Cody squealed and rushed to hide behind his mother. “Backup! Marshal! Protect your sheriff!” 

Laughing at her son’s antics, Courtney joined in and pretended to shoot at Kenny with finger guns, but played dead when he retaliated with a well-shot pretend arrow.

Ben smiled at the warm scene as he approached Courtney, tipping an invisible cowboy hat to her. “G’evening, madam.” 

“Hey, you’re home early,” Courtney said, turning to greet her husband. 

“And until further notice,” Ben explained as he held up the resignation slip he and his co-workers were given.

Courtney took the slip from his and looked at it before quickly dismissing it. “Well, I didn’t think that job was right for you anyway,” she comforted him, hoping to cheer him up.

“Or any job apparently,” Ben said as he helped Cortney hang up a large sheet. 

“Well, that’s what makes our life together so exciting,”

“But Courtney…this isn’t the life I promised you,” 

“That’s okay. I already have everything I want,”

“But what about the magic?” 

Courtney gestured to their sons, still playing their make-believe game. “What do you call those two boys over there?”

“OW! MOM! Tell Kenny Indian burns is foul play!” Cody whined.

“Not if you’re on the Indian team!” Kenny replied. 

“Alright, alright, settle down, partners,” Courtney calmed her children as she put an arm around Ben. “Look who moseyed into the corral.”

The boys’ faces lit up at once. “Dad!” They ran over and hugged him tightly, Ben scooping them both up, balancing them on both his shoulders. 

“Hey, how are my favorite boys?” Ben asked as he carried them over to the fire pit. 

“Did you bring me a present?” Kenny asked him. 

“A present for what?” 

“For my birthday,” 

“What? No way, your birthday was last year.”

The boys laughed as Ben opened his briefcase. “Okay, well, I DO have something for you, but not just any present: it’s the most amazing birthday present ever.” 

Ben pulled out a lantern that had a patterned cover. “The blueprints crossed my desk just for a moment, but I managed to commit them to memory and if I remembered them correctly…” 

With a spin of the disc, it caused the lights from the lantern to almost dance around them. “Happy birthday, Kenny.”

Kenny and Cody both looked around at the lights in amazement. “What is it?” Cody asked when he looked back at the item his father built. 

“It’s called a wishing machine. You tell it your wish and it keeps them safe until it comes true. Even if you forget then, they’re always here.” Ben explained.

“Can I tell a wish?” Cody asked.

“Of course. Step right up.”

Cody stepped forward and closed his eyes. “I wish to marry the tooth fairy,” Cody whispered to the lantern as he chuckled a bit. 

“You maybe wanna leave a pressed flower alongside your next loose tooth under your pillow~?” Courtney teased her son, which earned her a playful push and a giggle.

“Now, now, sweetheart, Cody’s got his priorities straight. That’s a good wish.”, Ben said as Kenny stepped forward. 

“I wish…for a new belt,” Kenny whispered. 

Ben hesitated, knowing that was a wish a bit harder to grant. “That’s…a good wish too.” 

“What’s your wish, Mom?”, Cody asked as he looked up at Courtney. She thought for a moment before answering. 

“I wish for us to be happy like this forever. For you, and you, and your father.” Courtney, wrapping her arms around Ben. 

They all continued to sit and watch the lights spin around them, thinking about what Courtney said. To Ben, that was going to be the hardest wish of all to grant. Nonetheless, he was going to make that wish come true, no matter what.

Part of making that wish work, however, was going to involve a little swindling. He was able to pass off the lost ships as his own, allowing him to get a loan from the bank.

Courtney was surprised at this stroke of luck. “Why would a bank give us a loan of $10,000?” 

“Collateral does wonders, believe it or not,” Ben said as he led her and his sons through town.

“What collateral are you talking about, exactly?” Courtney asked suspiciously. 

“Of course, we do, in the South China Seas. DEEP in the South China Seas.”  

“And we bought WHAT with this loan?” 

Ben responded by pointing at a building ahead of them, the boys already rushing ahead to read the title.

“’Tennyson’s American Museum of Curiosities’,” Kenny read aloud from the sign on the building. 

“What kind of museum is it?” Cody asked excitedly, hoping it was full of amazing items.

Well, it was full of…items, but most would not call them amazing. “Well, what do you think?”, Ben asked as he showed them the inside. 

“A…wax museum?” Courtney asked, a bit surprised by what she was seeing, though the pleasure from before had left her tone. 

“Well yeah, they’re supposed to be all the rage in Europe. Boys, go take a look around, but don’t touch anything!”

After they were out of sight, Ben looked back at Courtney, who seemed unsure of her husband’s decision. 

“Okay, now I know what you’re thinking, and I know how it looks-“

“Good, I’d be glad if you didn’t,”

“But it just needs a little work, y’know a little elbow grease here and there,”

“And the loan? You KNOW it needs to be paid back every month,” 

“Don’t worry it will, we just need costumers. Trust me, everything will be fine.” Ben promised as he kissed her forehead. 

But as fate would have it, things were not going as well as they seemed. No matter how hard they tried, no one wanted to see the museum. After a full day of people tossing his posters and getting laughed at, Ben went up to the ticket booth, where his good friend and former pickpocket, Kevin, was working. “What’ve you got for me, Kev?”

“Three,” Kevin answered, giving Ben some hope before he turned around and saw Courtney holding up the three tickets that she bought. 

Later that night, Ben arrived back home, feeling defeated from his long day. He saw that Courtney was already asleep on the couch, waiting for him to come home. Ben had a soft smile on his face as he gently covered her with a blanket.

“Dad?” Ben heard Cody’s tiny voice from the boys’ bedroom. Upon entering, he noticed both his sons were still awake. 

“Did you sell any more tickets today?” Kenny asked him, sounding sleepy.

“Uh…yeah a few. A lot of people were in a rush to get home since it’s Friday, but we still sold a few,” Ben assured them, not wanting to worry them.

“I think you just have too many common things in your museum,” Cody pointed out. “People see humans like the ones in our museum every day.”

“Yeah, you need something different,” Kenny added. 

Ben thought about this for a moment as he gave them a smile. “Thanks for the food for thought, boys,” he thanked them as he tucked them in. “But it doesn’t buy you any extra late-night hours. Off to bed, you two.” 

Later, Ben was still awake as he thought about what Kenny and Cody had said. Something different…something other than humans…

The moment the concept crossed his mind, he sat upright in bed. They would be hard to find and even harder to pass off as an act in front of humans, but he knew EXACTLY what he needed: he needed aliens.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

I think I’ve read a lot of Fanfiction and basically all the popular ones, and somehow my flame for Fanfiction is going down, so I’d like to know which fics do you think can make me really, really interested again. I’m willing to try something new, but I just can’t with Age Gap, Sub Kurt, or MPREG, I know it seems kinda picky but I would love if you have a great fanfic recommendation for me! ��️

Hey Nonnie,

Ooh, challenge accepted! Let’s see if we can get you interested again...

Readers: please chime in with your hidden gems, your roads less travelled by, your unsung heroes, or your own fics that deserve to be discovered and loved by way more people than have stumbled on them so far.

Hugs,

Marjan

Dry Your Christmas Tears by @andiheardeverything​

Kurt’s had a crush on his next door neighbor since he moved in. Christmas Eve, Kurt overhears something, and everything changes. 

~~~~~

Click and Press Send (or “the Kimber verse”) by @loveheartlover

​Blaine Anderson is 18 years old and in his final year at McKinley High. His best friends know everything about him- apart from that whole thing where he's in love with an online blogger. ThreeDomsToRuleThemAll are the best thing to ever happen to Blaine; three friends who post audio and video that more than satisfies his need to submit, and Kimber is the man who makes every Thursday the best day of Blaine's week. It's just a shame that Blaine is little more than another number, another follower to him. He doesn't even know Blaine exists.Until one day, he does.This is their story.

~~~~~

Blind Date by @ohmygodstopit​

Summary: Kurt and Blaine meet on a blind date.

~~~~~

The Bro Code by villageidiot

So there’s a bro code.  It’s relayed to him a few weeks after he joins his fraternity. The rules seem easy and he’s not too worried.  Blaine Anderson is a rule follower.But then suddenly, there’s this guy.

~~~~~

Tip/Tilt by @rainjoyswriting

Blaine doesn’t always think very far ahead; it’s an acknowledged personality flaw

~~~~~.

Long Overdue by @zavocado

Summary: Ever since Blaine met Santana Lopez during their freshman year, she’s been determined to make his sex life outrageous. There’s just one problem: she’s completely obliviously to who his perfect guy is. At least until now.

~~~~~

Just Say Yes by @slayerkitty

Blaine Anderson’s parents have just cut him off upon learning that he’s gay. His entire future is gone just like that - until he finds out about a trust fund from his deceased grandmother. There’s just one catch - in order inherit the money, he has to get married. Good thing Kurt Hummel is in desperate need of some cash… 

~~~~~

Your Fingers Round My Thumb by legallyblained

Due to tragic cicumstances, Kurt is left to raise his daughter alone and is forced to hire help in the form of a male nanny, Blaine. M Rating doesn’t apply till Chapter Twelve. 

~~~~~

Something Wicked This Way Comes by anonymous

Kurt and Rachel celebrate their one year anniversary in New York with tickets to Wicked. But when Rachel can’t make it, Kurt sells her ticket to newly arrived college student, Blaine Anderson. Written for Glee Prompt Meme.

~~~~~

Violoncello by @klaineitupanotch

Blaine Anderson finds himself being given the opportunity of a lifetime, when he is approached by Hunter Clarington the Third, a rich lord who’s singular goal is to become the best luthier of his age. Soon, Blaine gets the chance to play his finest creation, a cello that’s perfect pitch is spell-bounding, to compete at a world wide competition. Little does he know that accepting the job will also lead him to meet a mysterious young man with the voice of an angel. 

~~~~~

Hummel and Oates by @klaineitupanotch

Klaine ‘80s AU. Sometimes even potential soulmates can get off on the wrong foot. Enter Kurt, the ballsy co-manager of Dare to Flare, the hottest gay club in the East Village, and Blaine, a newly hired cover band artist at the same club. Right from the start, the boys’ first impressions of one another go astray thanks to some incorrect gossip and an accidentally spilt drink. Can two men who aren’t even on a first name basis ever put their differences aside? 

~~~~~

Everlasting by @missmichellebelle

For some, time passes slowly. For the Hummels, it doesn’t exist. It is the summer of 1914 and, at the tender age of seventeen, Blaine Anderson is Lima, Ohio’s most eligible bachelor. But for Blaine, one thing is true; the heat of summer is not nearly as stifling as the formality of his life. When Blaine seeks freedom in the forest that has called to him since his childhood, he comes across a boy and a family who are unlike anything he has ever known and the course of his life changes forever. 

~~~~~

Loves and Loaves by seeleyboothfan

Kurt and Rachel are enjoying their first year in New York City and are looking for a cheap but delicious place to eat breakfast and lunch at around their classes. When Rachel stumbles across Hot Cross Buns, she feels like this could be the place and tries to convince Kurt. Apparently all it takes is seeing the gorgeous boy who works there to convince Kurt that this is their place.

[imtryingmyfuckingbe]

And If This Is It

First chapter in a short series.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Mentions: Jess, Sam, Charlie, Cas, Gabriel, Jo, Jules (OC)

Trigger warnings: N/A at the moment

I am the sole author and reserve the rights to my work. However, I am not the owner of Supernatural as a franchise, or the characters including, but not limited to: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Gabriel, Jo, Jess, or Charlie.

CHAPTER ONE:

She pats her apron for a pen. The usual seven pens clipped to her pocket dwindled over the course of her shift as co-workers begged her to borrow one. Today seemed to be the day every server and their mother forgot to come to work prepared. The deep recesses of her smock yielded a stale fry, coins, and lint; no pen. 

Exasperated, Y/N scans the crowded dining room for another waiter. Jules leans against a server stand, reviewing something in his check holder. She makes a beeline towards him, navigating pushed out chairs and close tables. Pieces of conversation flit around the restaurant, creating the cacophony of guests chattering. Sometimes she fights to hear herself think over the endless conversations and clinking of glasses.

One of these days, she would enter this restaurant for the last time. Today is not that day.

Finally at Jules, she reaches for the pen readily presented. He knows her better than most of her co-workers, practically able to read her mind. He and Charlie are the only two she enjoys meeting off-shift. Mumbling a thanks, she weaves her way toward her section and the awaiting guests.

“Have a good night!” Y/N states quickly, the farewell always on the tip of her tongue. Not awaiting a response, she moves to her next table for their drink order.

While speaking to her new guests, a familiar shadow appears in her peripheral a few feet away. She continues with her spiel, on autopilot while recommending drinks and relaying dinner specials. A seasoned server, Y/N easily feigns interest despite her mind focusing on the silhouette by the bar.

Finished retrieving their orders, she tucks her server book into her apron and turns around. Dean leans against the bar, elbows perched on its surface. Y/N holds a finger up so he knows to wait. She rings in the beverages, then returns to Dean, a drink now in his hand. “What’s up, big guy?”  

“Just thought I’d come see my favorite girl,” he purrs, voice sweet but rough. It’s her favorite sound, always sending shivers up and down her spine.

“Well, your favorite girl is fucking slammed. Have a seat. I’ll be by when I can.” She pats his shoulder as she squeezes past him and into the kitchen.

Finished tickets litter the window, along with the respective dishes. Y/N hurriedly piles three plates on one arm, the fourth in her other hand. Aside from the cash flow, the service industry offers better balance and dexterity. For those two reasons, among a total of four, she continues working as a waitress. 

Unfortunately, her job has more banes than boons, including the relentless need to keep moving. After dropping the food off at table 311, she rushes to the bar for her table’s drinks. Then she busses a table, greets another family, cashes out a different one, and, fuck, she forgot to grab the ranch for 504. 

By the time things calm down enough to breathe, Dean nurses drink number three, his only company an empty plate from his finished meal. Y/N sidles into the small space next to him, resting her arm on the back of his chair. He shoots her a blinding smile, and for a moment she revels in the break from the hectic dining room. 

“Having fun?” His voice fights to overcome the rest.

She laughs. “Yeah, I just love the blisters forming on my heels.”

“Get new shoes, dude. You’ve worn those guys down to the soles.”

“Yeah, you try finding affordable and comfortable non-slips. Keep me posted.” She winks. “Oh shit! I didn’t tell you about the fucker at my table.” Dean leans back in his seat and crosses his arms, readying himself for her story. “So, from the start this table is a pain in the ass, right? Well, he orders one of our cheaper burgers. I checked on him a few times before dropping the bill, and when I go back to get their payment, he tells me he didn’t like his burger and wanted it taken off of his check!” 

Dean laughs. She enjoyed telling him her stupid work stories, if only to see his head throw back and eyes glint with amusement. 

“Yeah? What’d you do?”

Y/N leans in a little closer, stage whispering. “I looked him straight in the eyes and told him he should’ve told me before he ate it all, and that he was still going to pay for it.” Another deep chuckle. She pulls back. “Yeah, he wasn’t that happy,” she concludes with a shrug.

“But he paid for it?”

“You know it. Okay, be right back.” 

Another round of drinks; ordered and delivered appetizers; two more checks; and, finally, Y/N’s section empties out. Only two newer tables relax as she starts cleaning up. The end of the day is always her favorite, not simply for the fact of getting to go home and put up her aching feet. 

As guests mosey out and the lobby remains empty, the glow of the restaurant calms her adrenaline. Low lighting and low conversations lend a more intimate atmosphere that washes over Y/N. Not for the first time, she wishes she could live in this feeling. Everything will sort itself out and the world will embrace the afterglow of a bustling dining room as it lulls to a close. Her final tables cash out and leave their booths, bidding her a good night.

Only two men occupy the bar now: Dean and a lonesome straggler. As fellow servers finish their shifts and part ways, more of the floor, both bar and dining, comes under Y/N’s supervision. As a closer, she stays until last call and ensures the restaurant can open smoothly the next day.

Less than an hour, she reminds herself.

She makes her way to the stranger at the bar. Four empty short glasses scatter the counter before him, the fifth cradled in his fingertips. His head hangs over the whiskey, ignoring the game on the television above him. 

Trying not to bother, she gently reaches across him to gather his empty cups. Upon securing the four in her hands, he looks up. His eyes bore into hers, greasy and shaggy hair slightly obscuring his view. With his free hand, he moves the strands. Sweat lines his brows and his cheeks flush with redness.

She knows that look. It is of a man who has had one too many; a man who does not know when to stop. Y/N looks away. The shallowness of his gaze unsettles her. It’s as if he doesn’t truly see her. She steps back from him, shifting the glasses into a better tower.

“All done?” Y/N asks sweetly.

“Think you could share a drink with me, beautiful?”

“‘Fraid not, mister. On the job, you know,” she motions to her uniform, as if it is the only reason she will not sit next to him tonight.

“When are you off?” 

The persistence wears her patience thin. Her bones will her to turn away, but as a server she knows she cannot. Customer service comes first and foremost, especially in an industry where guests believe they know best. “Not for awhile. Would you like me to close your tab?”

He shakes his head. “Another one. I can wait.”

Anxiety reaches into her chest and squeezes its talon fingers. “We’re closing soon, sir. Unfortunately, we stop serving alcohol fifteen minutes prior to locking the doors,” she fibs easily. They don’t close for at least another thirty minutes, and drinks continue until then as well. But the tightness in her chest refuses to release; she wants him gone.

His unrelenting, beady stare stays centered on her face as he sips his whiskey. “I can wait,” he repeats slowly.

She takes a calculated breath, forcing the frustration from expressing itself. “I have to get back to my job,” she curtly replies. 

Without waiting for an answer, she backs away. It is not far enough and not fast enough, as his hand latches onto her free wrist. Y/N looks behind the bar, begging the bartender to return. It’s not that she can’t handle a drunkard, she can; it’s that she doesn’t want to lose her job. If need be, she would most certainly utilize the tower of glasses in her grasp. 

A barstool scratches against the wood floor, drawing the man’s attention for a moment. She yanks her wrist from his grip, pulling it tight to her chest. “Pay your tab, and leave.”

He barely glances at her as he withdraws his wallet, head hung low once more. Tossing a few bills onto the counter next to his remaining glass, he delivers one last withering glance. “Coulda had a good night, honey.” He stalks off to the lobby and out of the front door. 

Her shoulders sag as she releases her breath. 

Finally turning around to finish her duties, she finds Dean standing in front of her, almost chest to chest. His eyebrows crease together, and his lips form a thin line. “I’m okay, Dean. I’m almost done. Just have to close out a few checks.” Silence engulfs the pair, Dean still gauging Y/N’s true feelings. She sighs. “Really. It’s par for the course. I’m good.”

He nods slowly, and she knows he doesn’t believe her. “Movie night?” Dean changes the subject.

“Yeah. Let me finish up.”

She returns to her path to the kitchen, stowing the glasses in the rack by the dishwasher. At the sink by the door into the dining room, she washes her hands, taking extra care to scrub her wrist raw. 

In the thirty minutes left before close, Y/N stacks the chairs on the tables, takes the pitchers of water to the back, and completes general cleaning. The closing manager signs her off, and she is free to go. 

Dean leans against the driver’s side of her Mustang, flashing his winning grin when he sees her. The crinkle of his eyes halts Y/N’s breath. She pushes down the hammering of her heart until it reaches her stomach, and then her feet and out into the world. He reserves this smile for a select few; she sends thanks up to the Universe that she is one of them. 

“M’lady,” he says with a sweeping gesture to her door.

She laughs, unlocking it. “Why, thank you, good sir!” Y/N opens her door, tossing her apron and purse haphazardly in the passenger seat. “So where are we meeting? It’s Sammy’s turn, right?”

“Affirmative. Most of the crew is already there. Just missing us two.”

“Sounds good. I need a fucking drink.”

Dean nods, “You and me, both.”

She slides into the driving seat and turns on her car, raising her eyebrows and squinting at him. “You had, what? Four drinks? Yeah, you had four drinks here.”

“Yeah, then I ate my weight in a burger and onion rings. I can handle another glass.”

“Or two,” they say in unison. She rolls her eyes. 

“Right, well we best get going. It’s already late. They’re probably done with the film.”

“Nah, I told them to wait a bit. Plus, Charlie just got there. She didn’t leave too much before you.”

Dean closes her door, then points his finger towards the pavement, telling her to roll her window down. She complies, and he rests his folded arms on the edge. His eyes search her face, as if caressing her cheek and lips in his mind. “What?” she whispers as Bob Dylan plays through her radio.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers back.

She rolls her eyes again, this time to keep the blush in her heart from reaching her face. “All right, casanova. Let’s go.”

He winks at her before making his way to his car. She follows him to Sam’s apartment, paying poor attention to the road. He’s a flirt, she knows, but when he says stupid things like that she wonders. From the start of their friendship, Y/N knew she would fall hard for Dean. The confidence in his walk, the way he says her name. And those eyes. Those godforsaken eyes.

Out of respect for their relationship, however, she refuses to say anything about her feelings. Any time she gets close to blurting out “I love you!” her mind screams back “What if! What if! What if!”. And that was more than enough to make her mouth shut and her feelings recede into their marked lock box at the back of her thoughts. 

Dean pulls into the complex first, choosing a spot with another empty one to his left. When she parks next to him, Dean already stands at her door. He pulls it open, waiting for her to grab her purse. Laughter escapes from the windows of the apartment above and down to the couple. Warmth spreads throughout Y/N’s body; her crew of friends reminds her of cinnamon and late Sunday mornings. They are home.

Together, the two climb the three levels to Sam’s apartment. The unlocked door opens to reveal Sam and Gabriel in an arm wrestling match, the rest of the company cheering for either side. Upon seeing Y/N and Dean enter the room, the shouts turn to welcomes. Jo comes to meet Y/N for a hug, however she holds up her hand.

“I need a deep cleansing shower before I hug you,” Y/N warns.

“Long night?”

“You could say that. I’ll be back, guys.”

Y/N heads towards the back of the apartment for Sam’s main shower. The guest bathroom, however nice, did not possess the same water pressure or showerhead functions. Digging through her purse, she secures a clean pair of shorts and socks, but no shirt. Fuck. She just wishes to get clean and put on comfortable clothing. Her day, all things considered, hadn’t been the worst. However, the end of the night lingers on her tongue like cheap tequila: sharp and unpleasant. 

Sighing in defeat, she heads back to the living room. Dean seemingly took over for Gabriel in the challenge, his hand clasped in Sam’s. The veins in his arm pop from beneath his tightened skin and his nose scrunches in concentration. Y/N leans against the wall, enjoying the show. 

As much as Dean wants to be the big man in his brotherhood, Sam gives him a run for his money. Even still, Y/N knows Dean will win. He’d rather break his wrist than forfeit any dare. With a triumphant bang, Dean slams Sam’s hand onto the dining table.

The surrounding crowd cheers and boos, respectively. Y/N smiles. 

Taking the reprieve in the boys’ games, she walks up behind Dean and places her hands on his shoulders. “Good job!” His eyes shine when they meet hers, the brightest green she’d ever seen. Forest, stone, the sea; nothing could compete with those eyes. His toothy grin returns her to the present, where her palms burn into the thin fabric of his shirt. Addressing the room, she asks, “Does anyone have a shirt or something I can borrow? I forgot to pack one.”

Before anyone can answer, Dean picks his sweatshirt up from beside him and passes it to her. She smiles thankfully, patting his shoulder, and returns to the master bath.

Y/N takes her time, reveling in the beat of the pressure against her back and shoulders. The tension held at the nape of her neck melts away with the tea tree body wash, down the drain, and far, far away. The eucalyptus hanging from the shower head cools her anger from the night, and that daring man. 

Of all the things she became accustomed to as a waitress, someone putting their hands on her was not one. A guest angry over a stupid mistake; a spilled cocktail; shitty coworkers. She can handle it all with ease. However, the gall of someone touching her? It kicked her into high gear, and she had no fight or flight instinct. She will always choose to fight, job security be damned.

She steps from the shower, glad Sam and Jess know how to choose their towels. Dean’s sweatshirt covers her hands and falls to her midthigh. When she requested a top from the group, she hoped Dean would offer. His cologne lingers on the collar of the hoodie, mixing with Y/N’s shampoo and conditioner. She breathes it in until it fills her lungs and takes over her common sense. If Dean were here now, she knows she would grab him by his neck and lay a kiss to his lips. 

And his cheek.

And his neck.

And anywhere else she could reach.

Although grateful he isn’t here, she wishes he were.

Finally clean and comfortable, Y/N returns to the living room. The blue screen illuminates the room, dancing across her friends’ faces. Charlie, Jo, Gabe, and Cas take up the large couch, Jess and Sam cuddle on the loveseat, and Dean sits on the double wide recliner. Without a second thought, she joins him. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling the blanket over her bare legs. 

Sam’s choice movie of the night, Cabin in the Woods, blares over the surround-sound speakers. Y/N rests her head against Dean’s shoulder, and he pulls her closer. For a moment, it feels like the emptying dining room. Dim christmas lights shine from the ceiling. Dean’s chest rises and falls with each breath. For a moment, her world has sorted itself out, and she exists in the afterglow of a finished day.

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Mr.Flirt~Jimin Park x Black! Fem! Reader {1}

Pairing: Jimin Park x reader

Summary: You’ve been an interviewer for a few years at Instant Pop! (fake entertainment outlet) and you finally score an interview with people you care about, BTS themselves. During the course of the entire interview you try not to fangirl completely while each of the guys stay engrossed in your words. One of them being Jimin Park himself, your favorite member, the one you can hardly make eye contact with. 

Writer’s Note: Let’s just say that everyone can understand the reader and her questions. It’s fanfiction, so I think we can extend our sense of disbelief. Anyway, I’ve been watching so many BTS interviews where they are having a blast, so I’ve been thinking why don’t I try to write one for fanfiction? More black readers of course, my sisters and I need some love too~Black Army forever! This is my first BTS fic, so please tell me how it is and be civil about it. I hope you guys enjoy it and let me know if you want more BTS fics, send me requests please. I appreciate it.

Warnings: None really for this chapter. 

Word Count: 1, 741

______________________________________________________________

A heavy sigh escapes me as I glance at the seven chairs in front of me for the umpteenth time. Maybe they need to be pushed back a bit more, I do need to see them all. I rise and notice that I have too many Army armbands on and flush deeply.

Nate, my co-worker moves the chairs with a chuckle.

“Y/N, the set is fine,” he says, “I checked the chairs four times already.”

“I know, I know,” I say, “this isn’t too much is it?”

I motion to my T-Shirt with all the BTS members and my plethora of armbands. Nate looks me up and down prior to bursting out in laughter, he holds his side to stay up right. My eyes roll as I sit back down with my note-cards, flipping through each of them to ensure that my questions are appropriate.  

“Hey-I-I didn’t mean to laugh its just,” he pauses, “you remind me of my younger sister when she had her Twilight phase.”

“Nate,” I groan, “if it’s too much then I’ll change really quick.”

Nate grows serious and shakes his head.

“Nah, you can’t,” he explains, “they just got to the building and you already have your mic on.”

“Really?! Well, can I just check my hair real fast!” I exclaim.

Nate crosses his arms.

“Fine,but make it quick! And I won’t ask them for an autograph!” he jokes as I head for the exit.

“You’re super corny you know that!” I answer back.

Nate shrugs.

“At least I’m not a walking Army private right now,” he states.

I stop at the door.

“Oh, I’m no longer a private Nate,” I say, “I think I’m at least Lieutenant status.”

The moment I open the door I nearly collide with someone, I almost fall in the process.

“Woah, you alright?” he asks.

His deep voice sounds familiar. I glance up to meet the handsome face of Namjoon in his turquoise and purple dotted suit.

“Y-Yeah–ah Namjoon-I mean rap mon–shit RM,” I gasp.

Namjoon chuckles.

“Hi there!” he greets, “this is the room for the interview, right?”

I nod sharply and point over to the chairs. Nate steps over with a bunch of mics in hand and nudges me.

“Yes sir,” he says, “this happens to be your interviewer, not some hopeless fan girl.”

I side eye Nate but don’t speak. I’ve got to make a good impression with BTS, otherwise the army would hate me. Most of them already have a negative impress of black people in the fandom, don’t want to add to the pyre.

“W-Welcome!” I finally manage to say. “Nate will get you set up and we’ll start the interview right away.”

Namjoon grinned as the other six members entered behind him, each and every one of them leaving me starstruck and mesmerized. I never thought I’d see them this close, I can barely get tickets to a concert, this is a real honor! My heart kicks up at the sight of Jimin with his wavy black hair,  iconic earrings and his warm smile.

“J-Jimin,” I blurt out, “h-hi welcome.”

Jimin grins softly before his eyes widen abruptly and points at my shirt.

“You’re an army?!” he asks.

He’s talking to me, speak damn it.

“Y-Yeah, ah I-I am,” I manage to say.

Jimin’s grin widens and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Nice, our interviewer is an army guys!” he shouts.

Namjoon’s head perks up; Jin smiles; J-Hope hops up and over sporadically; V raises an eyebrow; Jungkook nods eagerly and Suga gives me a small toothy grin.

“Hi there!” J-Hope greets with an extended hand.

I’m frozen by how super friendly and forward they are, of course they seem humble, I wasn’t expecting extremely humble. I look to Namjoon who nods.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

I take J-Hope’s hand firmly and shake.

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N,” I say, “should I call you by your stage names–for the interview that is?”

Namjoon nods.

“Yeah, for the interview is fine,” he agrees.

V chuckles.

“I like your hair, Y/N,” he says.

My face nearly grows flush again. Namjoon playfully nudges V while Jimin gives him a dismissive stare.

“I like her eyes, hair and cheeks,” he says with a quirk of a brow.

My heart leaps as I cover my widened grin with a hand. This is a dream, isn’t it? Jimin would never, he would, I tell myself. He’s a huge flirt, on camera, but we haven’t started rolling yet.

“A-Are you ok?” Namjoon asks.

I nod as Jimin and J-Hope laugh along with Nate. I clear my throat as Namjoon leans down to my level putting a hand on the small of my back. His touch is soothing and real, really real.

“Y-Yeah, uh you guys can sit for the interview now,” I say, trying to play off my stunned expression.

Namjoon inspects me for a moment, but soon nods and walks over to a seat with his band-mates. He sits in the center with J-Hope on his left and Jimin on the right, who gives me a tiny, cutesy wave. I glance at the floor, take my seat across from them and take one final look at my note cards. Nate shuffles over with a smug expression.

“You good fangirl?” he asks.

“Uh huh,” I lie, “we aren’t live yet, are we?”

Nate shakes his head.

“I’m ready when you are, can’t let you make an ass of yourself in front of your fellow army,” he teases.

His comment sobers me up quickly.

“I’m good, let’s roll,” I say.

Nate raises a brow, yet he nods and signals the camera man. I inhale and exhale, shut my eyes prior to putting on a more composed, calm face.

“What’s up guys! Welcome back to Instant Pop, where I have with me Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung and Min Yoongi–BTS!!” I shout.

Namjoon pumps his fists into the air while the rest of the band clap and woo.

“Wow, Y/N,” Namjoon says, “that’s one of the first times a person has introduced us by our real names so boldly–wow!”

“She’s my favorite interviewer already,” J-Hope says.

I giggle and modestly play it off and get into the questions. Namjoon answers first as always, then hands it off to Jimin who gives it around to V and so on to the others. The answers they give are pretty straight forward, I’m surprised the fans didn’t send us any awkward questions. I don’t want to get exposed as a fangirl on camera.

“All right guys, last question, “ I say and flip my final note card over.

I hesitate. Just when I think I’m in the clear there’s an embarrassing question. Well, at least embarrassing for me.

“Of course they’d give me this question,” I say under my breath.

Namjoon leans in.

“I’m sorry?”

“Ah! My apologizes, the last question. What do you look for in a potential girlfriend–ah, you guys don’t have to–”

J-Hope cuts me off with a laugh.

“That’s ok! That’s ok! I’m looking for a woman who can cook, and who’s crazy about me!” he says with a mega watt grin.

I smile, eyes going to Jimin as he leans in, an amused guise on his face.

“A girl with a cute smile, like that,” he answers slyly with a wink.

My ears burn, I hardly listen to the rest of the answers. Jimin thinks I’m–wow. The room falls quiet, BTS still engrossed in me with attention. Nate speaks up to save my ass.

“Ok! That’s a wrap guys, thanks!” he calls, breaking me from my daze.

“Yes! Ah, thank you so much guys! This has been Instant Pop! Y/N signing out!”

Once the cameras shut off I let my face fall into my hands. I did the exact thing I didn’t want to do; I froze up in front of the entire internet, my fellow army and all. Thank God Nate came in for the quick save. I don’t even notice the guys getting up.

“Y/N, thank you so much!” Namjoon says. “We actually have a present for you!”

I blink at his words and look to Nate who shrugs, then to Rob, the camera guy who has no clue either.

“Present?” I ask.

V nods conspiratorially and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a copy of their latest album, Y/F/A(your fav album). My skin almost pops from my skin in goosebumps as he hands it over to Namjoon who presents it to me.

“Your manager told us you’re a huge fan and we just wanted to give back to you, the best way we thought we could,” he explains with a nervous grin.

“T-Thank–thanks you guys,” I say.

Jimin chuckles, stepping up and taking the album from Namjoon.

“Jim–” Namjoon starts.

Jimin opens it carefully with a small grin while batting his eyes at me. I cover my mouth, this man is trying to bias wreck me and he’s already my bias. How is that even possible.

“Do you have a pen, Y/N?” He asks sweetly.

I nod slowly, my fingers trembling like crazy as I yank the pen from my jean pocket and hand it to him.

“Really? You forgot to sign it!” J-Hope scolds.

Jimin elbows his hyung.

“I’m just writing Y/N a special message, reminding her to love herself,” Jimin explains with a swift wink.

He finally hands it to me then outstretches his arms for a hug. I gladly accept, he rubs my back soothingly before pulling away. The other guys want their hugs too, V and Suga especially chomping at the bit.

“B-Bye guys, thanks for granting me this amazing opportunity!”

They all bow before moving to the door.

“The pleasures ours Y/N!” Namjoon yells.

They all wave. Jimin and V both give me hearts, then they’re gone. In my head, then out like a dream.

“Sooooo,” Nate says while throwing an arm around my shoulder. “what your mans give you?”

Of course it’s his annoying ass voice that breaks me from my daze yet again.

“Just an autographed album from them,” I say, “and they aren’t my men!”

Nate wiggles his eyebrows.

“Whatever you say,” he says.

I sit back at my chair to flip through the album, I end up on the page Jimin signed and lose my breath at what it says. It read: ‘thanks for the sweet interview, call me xoxo’~Jimin, below that are his digits. 

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 1

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 1: Last night Boris called it, today we’re doing it. I had started working from home (wfh) yesterday as had most people at my work (RCI)..last week I had been preparing laptops as fast as poss for everyone. Even just today, the idea of going into work seems alien and dangerous. Now lockdown (ld) means that it would soon be illegal to do so unless utterly necessary.

Online, FaceBook (fb) especially, is awash with reaction…a lot of calling out people who are out and about in greater numbers than 2, which is against ld rules.

Day 2: Just trying to let work occupy my thoughts and time which is easy enough ‘cos everyone I support (IT engineer) is new to wfh and is having teething problems with all the new laptops. Meanwhile, I keep abreast of comings and goings online…actually socially interacting more than I might otherwise, weirdly

Day 3: Highlight of the day is an online quiz organised by a chap called Jay Flynn on fb…a bunch of us took it as individuals while chatting on Messenger while Jay streamed quiz over fb live and YouTube. It was a good crack and I had two cans of Coors Light which got me pissed!

Day 4: Work is still mad - so many people with IT issues wfh…it’s challenging trying resolve all these probelms remotely but I am rising to it. I actually enjoy it. It satisfies my want for problem-solving.

The ld is in full swing but it’s very early days. The news is dominated, obviously, by Covid-19 and the ever changing stats of infections and deaths. Today, for example, the USA took over, from China, as the country with the most infections. I know there will be an end to all this and I am determined to be there, going out, getting pissed down the pub, gigging, shaking hands with my mates, hugging anyone and everyone who’ll let me - it’ll be a proper party. But I am filled with a dread that it’s going to be a fucking long time coming.

This evening was spent virtually with Foggy, Ham and Andy P…doing a quiz - a rehearsal for Foggy in the hope of doing one to a wider audience next week. It was good fun and great to have a few beers chatting with everyone, Later I video called Fog and we drank ‘til gone midnight, putting the world to rights. I was well pissed.

Day 5: First non-work day of the ld. Housework, daily walk, out for supplies (drop a script order off…queuing outside boots for 15 minues!, bread, baccy and booze). This evening, I’m listening to the next album in NME list of 1985 albums I’m working through - Grace Jones Slave to the Rhythm…fucking pain in the arse ‘cos it’s not on Spotify so I am searching for each song, in order, on YouTube. Plus eating and drinking, of course. Quick video chat with karen and Grace, Dan in the background. I wanted a tin of kidney beans for chilli but Karen hasn’t got one ffs. Burger it is. They are all playing scrabble - I’d love to join in…

Day 6: A quiet day…housework, cooking, daily walk. Highlight was a half hour chinwag with dad who, as I would expect, despite his 84 years, is coping and doing just fine. Most other people with a dad that age would have, on top of their own concerns, something more to worry about during this crisis….for me, it feels like I’ve got someone to turn to, should I need to.

Day 7: Work is starting to feel more routine but it’s a long way off being in the office, which is never routine anyway. That may seem surprising since I do IT support but it’s a varied role, especially at the modern dinosaur of an organisation that is RCI. I try to be as disciplined as possible but I miss not dressing for work, not driving to work, not needing to actually prepare lunch (until lunchtime). I don’t actually need to shower every morning. I don’t think I have to ordinarily but do because I’m mixing with others in the office. I certainly don;t need to now. I only mix with me, so showering becomes a chore but I’m doing it every other morning in the name of the aforementioned discipline. I am worried how long RCI can keep going before laying staff off. I dread being out of work full stop, let alone during this ld, or even thereafter. I think the economies of the world will need time to recover so finding work will be tough à la 2008. I think, if lay-offs were to occur, I’d be in real danger. Last in first out and all that. But, I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it.

Day 8: At work there was a large online meeting whereby the MD told us that RCI are going to furlough some staff. The UK, and Ireland staff will be consulted this coming Thursday and Friday (it’s Tuesday today). I shall be reading up on what the furlough arrangements are in the UK due to Covid-19. I know the government have set aside some money, I need to know what I might get paid and how to claim it. In the past, when I’ve been out of work, I’ve been entitled to jack shit other than JSA, This time around, should I be laid off as I expect, I might not have to eat into my savings, fingers crossed. Meanwhile, I have decided to knock up another blog with a photo of myself each day of the ld (from now on) - it’s a sister to this diary.

Day 9: Actually typing this on day 10. Yesterday was a strange day as I contemplate being furloughed (hope for the best, expect the worst)…I’d be paid 80% of my wage according to what the government have said to assist in the Covid-19 crisis…so, were that to be true, I’d be OK money-wise, although still earning way less than I want to prepared for retirement (I am currently still waiting for feedback on a pay increase request I put in at work last year!) I’m more worried about how I would fill my day if I wasn’t working. So, that being said, I flopped and moped about all yesterday evening after my daily walk and, without achieving much at all, didn’t find time to write this entry on the right day…so maybe I can fill my days without much effort!

Day 10: I was furloughed today, starting 5pm tomorrow (Friday 3rd April) and it’s fucked me off. I know it’s not personal but, actually, do I? They’re cutting back the Kettering Desktop team by one, redacted It seems obvious to do this by the ‘last in, first out’ maxim but what about money? others are on more than me (redacted). What about offering it voluntarily - others might go for 80% pay for fuck all - others have family at home to occupy the day  (redacted) . A little bit of me thinks it might be preferable furlough me  (redacted) …others seems to be a favourite and that annoys me. It annoys me because I think I shoot myself in the foot too often. I’m too vocal about some of the (redacted) decisions and practices at work, plus other reasons that I know but can’t be bothered to type. But, my point, is I don’t play the politically correct, corporate game and therefore forget to look out for my own best interests. FUCK.

So, as of tomorrrow evening, I’ve no work to do. The challenge will be to find a way to occupy my day. I’ve already registered to volunteer for the NHS during the ld…let’s see what becomes of that. And I’ve signed up for web development course. I’m going to get fucking pissed this w/e, starting early tomorrow evening.

Day 11: It’s day 12 as I am writing this entry…that might tell any reader, and remind me, that I did as I promised and got pretty drunk. I spent the day geting my work affairs in order i.e. clearing down support tickets assigned to me. I did a good job, nothing left to handover to the remaining team (Jim, Cristina and Mark) and onky one ticket put into the assigned pool. Some nice converstaions were had with associates, many of whom are, too, being furloughed. Nice words were said and Jim and Mark both were supportive in conversations and messages - they both know I don’t wnat this and, I think, they are both relieved it’s not happening to them. 5 pm arrives and I shutdown my work laptop for the last time for at least 12 weeks. After my daily walk, I video chat with Karen, crack open a beer, make Chinese chicken curry (fucking loads, fucking tasty), finish watching The National Theatre stream of One Man, Two Guvnors (really good, see twoinchreview) and the caught up with, and talked bollocks with Andy, Marc and Ham - we tried getting Rog in on it, no dice. I then watched The Heat (I fucking love that film), ate some more, smoked several single-skinners, drank, in total, three cans, seven bottles. I went to bed shortly after 4am. I felt resigned to my furlough and pleasantly wasted.

Day 12: A subdued day…didn’t wake until gone 1:30pm. Jaded but not really suffering. Mooched about, social media, listening to music, watching telly, farting about on the iPad. My daily walk, over the last fews days, has taken a twist…I am trying to run parts of it. Mainly short distances, 80-100m (I estimate) three, maybe four times. It’s fucking knackering me out. I used to run everywhere when I was a teen. Attempting to run now just makes me feel fucking old. Well, I am, so that’s about right.

Day 13: Another day like yesterday except I got up at 10:30 and didn’t feel jaded. The subdued feeling comes from the realsiation that the ld isn’t being treated as seriously as it should be across the board. The news and even posts by locals on FB (Oundle chatter group) suggest groups still meeting up. The weather this w/e has been a factor - 17°c today. I think a total ld will be enforced soon and that would fuck me off. My daily walk is pretty essential for me nowadays not least for the ‘good for your soul’ benefits that dad has always mentioned. Even today’s walk saw a car parked at the gates to the field on the way to Ashton and people on a blanket soaking up the sun, dogs off their leads and people (looked like a family) playing footy on South Road field. Individually they are not presenting any danger, what with the fact they are either living together or far away from others. But they are flaunting the rules and the more that happens the less likely they’ll carry on getting away with it, which will mean total ld for all! I finished the 50 1985 albums today. It mostly confirms to me that I only listened to two albums released that year (Kate Bush, The Waterboys) any other vinyl I spun would have already been in my collection pre-85.

The sausage casserole I made for tea was fucking lush - 4 birdeye chillies. I saw and spoke with Dan and Grace this morning, they were just coming back from a walk. I am pleased to fuck they are together and sorted out the issues they had earlier this year.

Day 14: My first day proper of furlough. Finished my two inch review of the NME 50 albums. Long chat with Rita, quick one with dad. Messaged Sam about Romiley’s present - she’s 10 on the 9th April (Thursday) - ordered some Lego thing from Amazon. Turned the car engine over (reminded myself the driver-side wing mirror is fucked) and moved it to another spot in the Co-op car park - bumped into Matt T. He’s struggling - no work coming in and he can’t claim any of the money on offer ‘cos he’s not being totally honest about his circumstances - made me realise I’m not that bad off…..but I feel depressed about it all, especially with the news that Boris has gone into intensive care.

Day 15: I began a diploma (?) course on web design with Shaw Academy (it was free). They have actual classes (which are recorded) which you schedule yourself. The first one was, I have to say, really interesting - I look forward to continuing. On my walk today, I saw a car parked at the gate to the field at the bottom of Riverside Close; it was branded with Cunninghams Estate Agent with a 01536 number. I am pretty sure I saw the driver walking her dog (unleashed) on the field. I took a photo and rang the number. Yes, I ratted the culprit out…fucking annoys me that I had to. Better than reporting to the police, all round. Hopefully her work will put a stop to her doing it and, the more people that adhere to the rules without the police getting wind of infractions, the more likely we’ll be able to continue to exercise away from home.

Day16: More online learning including checking out other sites (pluralsight) for more learning opportunities. Coded my first web page, basic but mine, in HTML and CSS. A few beers & smokes and watching White Boy Rick in the evening, interspersed with the usual social media / messaging shit, incuding this entry, of course!

Day 17: Typing this on Day 18. After a few beers last night while chatting with Fog (twice - the first chat ended with him ‘having’ to go to bed. Later, I noticed he was commenting on FB, so I video called him…round two of chatting!). I got quite fucking pissed. Bed around 4am.

Day18: Up at 1pm. Long walk today, 7 km. Anything over 40 minutes, I’ve realised, results in a hypo.

Day19: Well, having gone to bed at gone 5am I got up at nearly 1pm feeling far better than I should have. Breakfast followed by a walk, spoke with Karen (mowing her front lawn) and Dan. He and Grace have split up which is sad news but he seems OK. Went shopping (milk and sweets) and ended up with a shit load of booze, the post of which on FB was quite amusing. Homemade burgers for tea (they’re in the fridge as I type) - gonna try and make Five Guys…

Day20: The Five Guys burger attempt didn’t go as well as I wanted. I think less than 5% fat mince just doesn’t bind that well. However, I managed to get something resembling a burger into the bun and, with cheese, hot sauce and jalapeños, it was tasty enough. More of the same when I finish typing this entry. Strange Easter Day today, as I knew it would be. The best thing I saw today was a video Tom posted on FB of him and Molly doing a mashup of Starsailor and George Michael - Tom on guitar singing the former, Molly singing the latter. It was fucking fantatstic.

Day 21: Easter Monday. Surreal…it’s feeling very surreal now, this lockdown.

Two things that bother me right now:

i) The political point scoring on FB. I get it, I really do…people like to bring up ‘obvious’ failings in the party’s mistakes. For example, Marc posting comparisons between UK and Germany’s figures of cases and deaths due to Covid-19. I doesn’t make impressive reading for the government and it should be held accountable. But not fucking now!

ii) Will they introduce rotational furloughing at RCI? It’s only been a week, 11 to go. And, it bothers me that I was furloughed rather than Mark. Pathetic of me, I know! But, should it last the 12 week stretch, I want to go back to work and let someone else have the chance to have fuck all to do all day! That being said, I’m still learning web design through Shaw Academy. Even today, bank holiday, I revised Lesson 2.

Day22: Nice catchup with Dad today - he and Rita seem to be more than OK with lockdown. I actually cannot wait until we can meet up at The Farmers again!

Day 23: While I had a Corvee engineer come to the house today to do a gas safety check (I waited upstairs while he was here, self-isolation and all that), and had the fourth online web design lesson, had a trip to Boots to pick up insulin, got milk from Tesco’s, saw American Rachel and had a chat (while we both queued to get into Tesco’s) and had a very nice walk along a different route from the norm, in the pleasant sunshine and watched Contagion on Netflix - all today - I AM STILL BORED AS FUCK!

Day 24: I had plans for today - revise the last two lessons of Shaw Academy’s web design course, investigate a ethical hacking course, do some washing, clean upstairs (or at least the bathroom) plus all the usual stuff. Then, as a reward, have some beers. Well, guess what. I am not having beers this evening. I managed the laundry. Plus I manged to subtitle my YouTube perfect snabby video (something I have been meaning to do for a while, but, come on!) It took me fucking ages. But it is funny! So, a fucking far from fruitful day. Plus the government announced at least 3 more weeks of lockdown. There’ll be loads more, I reckon. Tomorrow…I promise I’ll be better tomorrow…

Day 25: I did do better! Firstly the Corveee man fucked the boiler which I only noticed late yesterday but still managed to get sorted today. I did some excellent revision and learning of HTML (tags) and CSS. I cleaned the bathroom and hall. And I discovered TikTok (fucking excellent dancing and funny vids) plus discovered a new FaceBook word game (Sam sent me an invite) called WordBlitz and I am pretty good. Having beers now (nearly 11pm).

Day 26: Today I found myself calling 111. I had a pain in my side last night, I thought it might be constipation! That not being the case (!), today I went to 111.nhs.uk and, following their questions, it recommended I seek out a GP straightaway. Once I let the website know that is not possible, it directed me to visit walk in centres. I spoke with Karen thereafter - for advice about whether it’s a good idea to enter such an establishment - I really don’t want to increase me chances of catching the Covid-19 virus. Karen recommended ringing 111 since the website does not take into account my diabetes (so bloody sensible a suggestion!)

After ringing and answering many questions, the lady said she’d get an OOHS GP to call. The doctor called soon after and it seems most likely I have a grumbling appendix (chronic appendicitis) and to ring again (well, 999) if the pain becomes unbearable.

I now have a bag at the ready for hospital which I really hope I don’t have to use. Today, I  have, therefore, done fuck all - not even a walk - but I am having a beer now (midnight) and shall attempt to sleep as well as possible and hope this pain subsides naturally…

It occurs to me that I turn to Karen when things become flumoxing - my excuse, this time, is she works at the surgery but that was mere convenience.

Day 27: My ‘appendicitis pain was the same when I woke up (10:20) but no worse. I managed to change bed clothes and clean my bedroom but didn’t risk a walk (in case something drastic happens when I’m in a fucking field).

People’s responses and questions online have been heartening (Rachel Harris, Susie Grange, Bethan, Jo, Tracey Weber, Debbie De Prisco and, not least Dan). As the day progresses, I feel better but not right. I spoke with Dad about it and, as I told him, I shall ring Oundle GP tomorrow. Meanwhile, I did Sam Clew’s FB Live quiz, which was good, and am now having a beer or two.

Day 28: The pain in my side has definitley diminished. I called the Oundle surgery today to talk about what treatment I should have for ‘grumbling appendicitis’. The reseptionist organised a call back from a GP - Dr. Cash. Basically, he said he didn’t believe the condition existed, that acute appendicitis doesn’t happen after the age of 35, and ‘his gut felling’ is it will all just clear up.

I shall seek a more sensible diagnosis after lockdown and hope it doesn’t flare up again before then.

Day 29: I sent an email to the team at work today (Jim, Mark, Cristina and Sueanne). I hadn’t heard from them and I wanted to check in and, also, make a point that I will be posing the ‘rotational furlough’ question to HR at some point. It was as I wrote the email that I realised it’s only been two weeks and two days of furlough, and that includes Easter! Seems so much fucking longer. Anyway, everyone replied and it was good to hear from them….Mark came off his bike and broke ribs and collarbone! Lesson 5 of the Web Design course with Shaw Academy. It’s becoming apparent that, if you don’t pay for the course ‘toolkit’ it’s all rather patchy! The instructor dives into lines of code (HTML, CSS and Java) with no explanation….I feel like I did on the ifrst lesson of further maths ate Stamford School! I shall soldier on and beef up the missing parts with W3Schools (a great website and learning aid for coding). Two quick points. I am no longer running any part of my daily walk; hurts too much. I am addicted to Wordblitz and TikTok. Day30: I am writing this on day 31, I just forgot yesterday! It was a non eventful day. I did watch Midnight Run (again!) and had a couple of midweek beers though.

[rockisagirlsbestfriend]

The Isolation Journals: Glorious Awkwardness

April 4, 2020

Today’s writing prompt proved a challenge because what was once my most glorious awkward intrinsic trait is currently a way of life for a vast number of people globally. I agonized over the topic longer than I should have.

It felt “too easy” – choosing to write about a “glorious awkward trait” that is so widely accepted now.

It felt “too hard” – would people relate to this as “awkward” now? Could anyone imagine the feeling of hundreds of people staring at them as if they were a freak when they walked down the aisle of an airplane? Would people be able to relate to the experience of returning to the box office, 10 minutes into a movie, to request a new seat assignment; or asking the manager at the gym if they could move to a different cross-training workout station? As many people embrace this trait now, would they be able to imagine their co-workers and friends repeatedly teasing them about this awkwardness and questioning their sanity?

On the idea of it being “too easy”: I thought about some of our most brilliant artists, inventors, designers, musicians, and filmmakers. Stories of being “misunderstood”, “an outcast”, or feeling “different” are commonly shared in interviews. However, once a certain level of fame or recognition is achieved, people celebrate and often emulate their “glorious awkward traits”. But it wasn’t easy. Sometimes that recognition came after decades of taunting by peers, sometimes after death.

On the idea of it being “too hard”: Just this morning, I opened the front door, and saw the grocery delivery driver, in his N95 mask and latex gloves, jump back to the required social distance of 6 feet. Yes, even though this trait is now widely accepted, it still feels awkward. Each of us shrouded in masks as a way to protect each other and ourselves from a dangerous virus. While we both understood it as a necessity, it felt surreal, removed from humanity.

The delivery driver was visibly nervous and anxious to leave. I’d ordered some wine so he needed to scan my ID. With our feet firmly planted on their 6’ marks, our bodies stiffly upright to remain out of the no-fly zone, we extended our arms just far enough that his scanner could read my driver’s license, and retreated as soon as we heard the confirming “beep”.

The writing prompt Jon Batiste offered this morning asked us to describe our “glorious awkwardness”. Well, my glorious awkwardness is: early onset Germaphobia.

I first remember consciously being disgusted by people’s hands in middle school. It wasn’t about the person. I simply saw all the things they touched, could envision dirt and bacteria piling up each time they picked up a pencil, touched the desk, tied their shoe, or twirled their hair. I hid it well (I think), but inside I cringed seeing them raise their unwashed hand to their mouth to eat a sandwich, a healthy snack, or a cookie.

My friends would get sick and brush it off. Their congested nasal passages trying to intake air as they argued, “Agh, izzz jus uh hedddd cold” when I’d decline their request to “try a sip” of my soda. I didn’t want a cold, a head cold, the flu, their mouth on my straw, their breath droplets on the lid.

And it never went away. I thought about it during sex (this was after middle school, for those tracking chronologically). “He didn’t wash his hands when we got home and now they’re where. . . and then. . . ?”

The 3-second rule… or 10 second rule… I don’t remember how many seconds it was, but if a thing fell on a table, the floor, a counter, my shirt, it was not going in my mouth.

In order to have any semblance of a social life, I did the best I could to hide it. Unlike the arbitrary “x-second rule” which never worked for me, I tried to appease my anxiety with “the alcohol will kill it”, which worked for me if I’d consumed enough alcohol.

I’m active, physically and socially. I like to run half marathons, am competitive in a circuit training class, go to rock concerts surrounded by thousands of sweaty people, eat meals out, bump elbows at a crowded bar, travel. The longer I was out in the world, the more I witnessed the repulsive and inconsiderate trait many people - adult people - had of not covering their faces when they sneezed or coughed.

As recently as February – when we were well aware of COVID19, but before we were ordered to stay home – I saw a man sneeze all over the self-service ticket kiosk at the movie theater, as he retrieved his tickets. It was a busy Saturday night. I envisioned all the people who would touch that kiosk after him, print their tickets, go buy popcorn, and put that popcorn directly in their mouth to determine whether it would be salty enough a third of the way through the bucket, before leaving the concession stand to take their seat and perhaps wash their hands on the way. Perhaps.

I alerted an employee, who politely responded, “Thanks for letting us know!” As he continued to address the needs of people in line, the thought of a deadly virus on a high-touch public surface was now trailing off in the distance, unattended.

I’ve been wearing a mask on airplanes, trains, and in all forms of public transport, for more than a decade. The most accessible photo of it I have (meaning I don’t have to sift through 8 hard drives to find an older one) is from 2018 and is posted at the end of this story.

First, it was the looks on the faces of the gate agents, followed by the flight attendants who strained to hear my replies, muffled by the mask. Then, of course, there are the looks other passengers give you, followed by their sighs of relief that you’re not sitting next to them, until you do. Sit. Down. Next. To. Them.

At dinners, my friends would sit waiting around the table, while I washed my hands for well over 20 seconds. Often, depending how long we’d been friends, people would say, “C’mon. It’s ok. The alcohol will kill it!”

Their children would ask, “Can we just start eating?” Sometimes, they could.

Business meals were equally complicated. A coworker once wiped her nose on her napkin, put her napkin on the table, and it touched my fork. I tried to hold it together, to not request new utensils, which would likely be uncomfortable for at least two of us during this business lunch. But I was eating chopped salad. I needed a fork. And I could not use that one. I tried to flag down the server as inconspicuously as possible.

“M’am?” he said.

Fuck. I’m a “M’am” already. Fuck. “Could you please bring me another fork?”

The server picked up the fork, raised it toward his eyes, and twirled it around until nearly every part of it had been touched by his fingers, and declared, “This fork is clean!”

To which my colleague added, “It’s fine. It’s just my allergies.”

Allergies… COVID-19…. the mucus oozing from your nose… whatever hepatitis may now be smeared all over that fork… I’m not using it to place things in my mouth.

This text message regarding COVID-19 is from that co-worker:

To me, for as long as I can remember, this trait wasn’t awkward. It was sensible. I could see how we moved through the world - and we weren’t clean about it. How many things do you do, and surfaces do you touch, between using the ATM and washing your hands? Even if you wanted to, there’s no mechanism for hand washing directly adjacent to the ATM (yet). How many other people pressed those buttons with their dirty hands? Those of us who carry hand sanitizer still have to reach into a pocket or a purse to get it out, mash our dirty ATM hands all over the lid to get it open, splatter it on a hand, close the bottle, brace it between our non-dominant forearm and our ribs, and then rub our hands together vigorously without having it splash in our eyes. 

Put the bottle of sanitizer away.  Feel victorious. And then hear the parking lot attendant decree, “You’re safe!”

One of my favorite observations came from my friend’s son. He was only 5 at the time, but he’d been witness to my glorious awkwardness for most of his life.

“Colette? What happens if you run out of hand-sanitizer?”

“I have more hand-sanitizer.”

“No, but say you’re out - like now -  and that bottle is empty… “

“I’ve got a backup bottle in my purse,” I responded, waving the evidence before him.

“Ok, but what about if you’re in the car. . .  and you run out of hand-sanitizer in the car??”

“I have a backup bottle in the car too…”

“Can we get ice cream?”

In January and February, people freshly returned from their global voyages and large family dinners, would come to circuit training class sick. Coughing, sneezing, sick. “After this workout, I’m going to urgent care,” one member told her friend as we waited in the lobby for class to begin. “I haven’t been able to get rid of this cough for weeks!”

I’d speak with the manager or guest services (they have a fancier name for it, but whatever) people at the front desk. “I come here to be healthy, to stay healthy, to keep my immune system strong. There are visibly sick people about to get on the treadmill adjacent to - and touching - my treadmill, while we breathe heavily, running 8 miles per hour, for 23 minutes, in a steamy enclosed studio. Do you think you could send out an email alerting members that if they’re sick, they should stay home?”

“No, we can’t ask our members to stay home,” they’d respond, while simultaneously – and at my request - reassigning me to a station further away from said sick people. By the way, it wasn’t up to the lovely people at the front desk. They had been told or, at minimum, believed it to be a corporate policy that sick people could workout there.

Fast forward to April 2020: my glorious awkwardness is your glorious awkwardness.

My friends now call me for advice. Colleagues ask where I got my reusable mask (the one pictured below in 2018). “Where did you get that bottle of hand sanitizer?” someone will ask, unaware there’s backup.

But it’s still awkward, isn’t it? Not being able to see the smile of a stranger, clutching the wall as your neighbors cross paths in the narrow walkway, flinching anytime someone sneezes during a ZOOM call. It was one thing when a handful of us felt this way. We understood it to be odd, but we couldn’t escape it, and everyone else seemed to balance it out with their carefree spirits. But now we’re all fumbling through space, with as few points of contact as possible.

Back on the subjects of “easy” and “hard”: in many ways, the new CDC guidelines and local safety mandates have been exceptionally easy for me. It’s my “glorious awkward” moment in the spotlight. I haven’t had to change my behavior at all. I didn’t have to rush to the store (though, on the subject of toilet paper, I am living roll-to-roll).

I have had to change my activities. I miss going to the gym, the crowded bars, the packed arena concerts. I miss running on the beach. I miss traveling. I’ve become numb to the notices of concert cancellations and postponements. Are the days of being at a music festival, with 100,000 people, crammed into sweaty tents, over?

The active part of my life coming to a standstill is hard. But that, I’m still hopeful, is temporary. The hardest part, for me, now that everyone shares this glorious awkwardness, is wondering how we regain that sense of safety in physical space. Will we become afraid to do the things that used to make us feel so alive? Hopefully, we’ll remind each other, “The alcohol will kill it!”

TODAY:

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 23 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

Summary: Bianca goes to NOLA for Latrice’s wedding, and returns home to a big surprise.

Thank you to our awesome beta readers: @missdandee and @kitschypixel

***

“Okay so, be honest...do I look fat?”

Courtney bursts out laughing, then stops abruptly when she sees Bianca’s hands on her hips, a deep scowl on her face.

“Sorry--I didn’t think you were serious,” she giggles. “Of course not.” Courtney leans back on the sofa cushions, cuddling the dogs to her chest.

“For the record, that is not the correct response to that question,” Bianca informs her, adjusting the straps on her Maid of Honor gown. “You’re a woman, how do you not know that?”

“Sorry,” Courtney shrugs, then offers aa conciliatory smile and adds, “You look beautiful.”

“But...I mean, can you tell I’ve gained weight? Are my sisters gonna be suspicious?”

“I honestly don’t think so.”

“Okay. Good,” Bianca sighs. “Thank god for empire waists.”

“Are you gonna be okay? I know it’s a big deal, and he’s not gonna be with you, so...” Courtney bites her lip. “Will it be weird?”

“Maybe a little, but...I mean, the people I care about already know. And everyone else...will probably just think he’s working, or something. I don’t really care, honestly.” It’s mostly true. Of course, she knows that she might get some awkward questions, questions that she really won’t want to answer. But she tries not to think about that, and more importantly, she doesn’t want Courtney to worry. So she goes on to assure her, “I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Courtney nods, stroking the top of Dede’s head and gazing up at her.

“I kinda wish you were coming,” Bianca adds softly. It’s almost an afterthought, slipping out before Bianca can stop herself. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment, realizing how needy she must have sounded.

Courtney takes ahold of her hand and squeezes it.

“That might be a little hard to explain,” she says, trying to deflect from the intensity of her feelings. How much she’s dreading the separation, which she knows full well is ridiculous. It’s going to be a few days. When the fuck did she turn into such a co-dependent mess?

“Yeah,” Bianca agrees, although inside, she’s thinking that it wouldn’t, at all. In fact, it would be the easiest thing in the world to explain. This is Courtney. I accidentally fell in love with her. Oops. She gulps. “Plus it’s probably not gonna be a very vegan-friendly affair.”

“Besides, I need to watch the dogs, right?”

“Right,” Bianca chuckles.

“...but maybe next time,” Courtney says, and deep dimples appear in Bianca’s cheeks.

“Really?”

“I mean, they sound great. I’d love to meet them.” Her voice is light, but the offer seems genuine.

“Yeah that would be…” Bianca’s heart is pounding. She clears her throat. “I’m sure they’d love you.”

“It’ll be really nice, once you’re there. To be home,” Courtney says. Instead of what she wants to say. Fuck propriety, just take me with you.

“Yeah. I hope so.”

***

It is nice, being back, especially since it’s the first time in several years she’s around her old friends and family without Jared. She feels lighter - in spite of the weight gain that will definitely make her sisters suspicious. But even that doesn’t worry her, as she revels in the familiarity of it all. The warmth of these people with whom she grew up.

The hug from her mother, that first day, makes everything worth it. And when she lies down at the end of the night, body sore and aching but absolutely stuffed with all her favorite foods, she realizes that she’s got a valid excuse for looking a little plumper than usual.

Her nagging worries about the Jared Questions that she assumes are coming turn out to be overblown. At the rehearsal dinner, all anyone cares about is her job - does she really get to meet celebrities? Who’s the most difficult on set? Who seems nice but is actually a secret bitch? Can she get a discount on tickets to Universal Studios? She happily answers them all, even the dumb ones.

The ceremony is beautiful, charming, funny - perfectly suited to Latrice and Chris. At the reception, Bianca gets to sit at a table with Vanessa, her favorite (only) younger sister, the two of them cackling up a storm in no time.

Vanessa has no questions about Jared, but she does have a ton about “that sexy blonde you’re shackin’ up with.”

“That’s not exactly the situation,” Bianca tries to explain, but Vanessa isn’t buying it.

“Come on, throw me a bone! She’s the one you wouldn’t shut up about over Thanksgiving, right? Did you meet on set? Did you have some kind of steamy, torrid affair?” she tongues her straw, eyes sparkling.

“No...sorry to burst your bubble,” Bianca tells her.

“Aww, man!” Vanessa slouches, crossing her arms, disappointed. “What a bummer.”

“Sorry, but...the idea of an affair makes you happy?” Vanessa’s husband asks, furrowing his brow.

Vanessa huffs out a huge, put-up sigh, explaining, “No, Brock, the idea of B cheating on that fuckin’ douchebag makes me happy!”

“Wait...I thought you guys loved Jared,” Bianca says.

Vanessa exchanges a Look with DJ, across the table. If anyone knows Jared, it’s him - one of Bianca’s oldest friends, he also happened to live in New York while Bianca was in school there, and used to hang out with her and Jared all the time.

“Well…” DJ begins, clearing his throat, speaking as diplomatically as possible. “I mean, we did our best to accept him, since you loved him, and-”

“We hated that guy,” Vanessa cuts in.

“I didn’t hate him,” Brock offers.

“Shut up, you have no taste. Hated him. Good riddance.” Vanessa tosses back some wine.

“And...we’re real sorry about your impending divorce…?” DJ gives a smile that’s half grimace.

Bianca laughs a little, rising from the table. She would love to bask in the relief that everyone will unquestionably be on her side, but the wedding coordinator is gesturing for her frantically.

“Well...thanks for your support, guys. But I gotta go give a speech.”

“Don’t fuck it up!” Vanessa calls after her, and Bianca turns and gives her the finger before continuing to the front of the room.

She stands at the mic, looking out amongst the crowd of mostly familiar faces, gaze finally landing on Latrice, who beams up at her from her seat at the bridal table.

“Hi, I’m Bianca...but you guys probably know that.” Bianca clears her throat, reminding herself that this is friendly crowd, and to just relax and give the toast for her best friend. “Okay, so. I actually met Latrice in second grade. More specifically, I met her laugh. It was the best sound I’d ever heard, one morning in front of school as we were getting off the bus.”

“I was laughing because you told someone that they looked like a garbage can,” Latrice cuts in, grinning at the memory.  

“That was me, bitch!” Vanessa pipes up from the crowd.

“Well, you deserved it!” Bianca shoots back. “You never brushed your hair and you always had that awful Hello Kitty sweatshirt on. Inside out.”

“I was in kindergarten, you asshole!”

The crowd, most of whom know them all, are laughing now, and Bianca makes a face at her sister to shut her up before getting back to the speech she’d prepared.

“Anyway, I heard this laugh. This amazing, gorgeous laugh, and I turned around and saw Latrice, and introduced myself, and it turned out that she was going to be in my class. And so I informed her that we were now best friends.”

“So bossy,” Latrice comments, giggling affectionately.

“And I soon found out that she was the greatest best friend anyone could ever ask for. Kind, funny, generous, smart...and of course, that laugh. I made it my life goal to make her laugh as loud and often as possible. Bonus points for extra inappropriate situations like assemblies and math tests and church. And for many years, I was really proud of myself for being the person who made her laugh the most. Until of course, Chris came around.” Bianca pulls a face.

A few good-natured murmurs of “oooh” and “uh oh…”

“I was a little pissed at this at first. I’m not gonna lie,” Bianca continued. “But soon I got to know Chris too, and unfortunately, he’s so damn likeable, that I had to admit, she’s got amazing taste, in addition to all her other talents. So Chris, thank you for giving my best friend the love and respect and joy that she deserves, more than anyone else I know. Thank you for making her laugh.”

Bianca turns to Latrice, who now has tears streaming down her face.

“I love you so much.” She raises her glass. “Here’s to a beautiful marriage, and lots of laughter.”

As the guests applaud, Latrice jumps up, running towards her friend. Bianca puts down the mic just in time for a huge, tackle-hug, Latrice squeezing her so tight that she feels she might break.

The DJ cranks up the music and soon Bianca finds herself pulled onto the dance floor by both Latrice and Chris. She makes a halfhearted, laughing protest.

“Guys, aren’t they about to serve dinner-”

“Who cares, bitch, I’m the bride!” Latrice spins Bianca, encouraging more guests to join them on the dance floor, an unplanned interruption while the catering staff scurries to get dinner on the tables.

Bianca dances with her a bit before she’s swept away by various other friends and family members, when she takes the opportunity to get another drink and make her way back to their nearly empty table.

“Nice toast.”

Bianca looks up and smiles at Vanessa.

“No thanks to you.”

“So...uh, when were you gonna tell me about the baby?”

Bianca blinks, and Vanessa rolls her eyes, sitting down beside her, voice uncharacteristically low.

“Your tits are out of control. And, that’s your third cranberry juice...”

“How do you know there’s no vodka in here?”

“Is there?”

“...I’m doing a cleanse. You know...detoxing.”

“Ahh...a dairy and butter cleanse?” Vanessa raises her eyebrows. “Don’t play me, I saw you inhale 40 pounds of cheese during the cocktail hour. Good luck tryin’ to shit later, by the way.”

“Vanessa…” Bianca glances around, praying that no one she cares about is in hearing distance.

“Is Jared the father?”

“Yes! What kind of question is-”

“Hey, I’m not judgin’. It just seems like the timing is a little…”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah. You alright?”

Bianca sighs. In an ideal world, she would be basking in the idea of sharing this news. She’d have already told her mother and everyone in her family. They’d be celebrating, thinking about names. Thank god that she has Courtney, or she’d be going crazy.

“He doesn’t know yet. And...it’s still really early, so I don’t want to-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say nothin’.”

“Anything.”

“Eat me, bitch.”

Bianca laughs softly, and Vanessa grins, plunking herself down into her lap.

“And I’m real happy about your future spawn.”

Bianca wraps her up into a big hug.

“I love you...little asshole.”

She’s a bit relieved, if she’s honest. That Vanessa knows. That someone knows. It allows her to breathe. To enjoy herself and let loose and have fun the way she used to, and the rest of the weekend zooms by in a happy blur. When she finally boards the plane on Monday, exhausted and full of love, she truly believes that everything will be okay.  

***

“Court?” Bianca calls, pulling her suitcase behind her.

There’s no answer, but the dogs come skittering across the wood floor, barking and wagging their tails excitedly.

“Hey babies,” she coos, scooping them up, wondering what Courtney’s up to. Her car’s home, but maybe she’s out on a run? Bianca continues down the hall to the bedrooms. “Whoa…”

Courtney sits in the guest room, hair piled atop her head in a messy bun, surrounded by flat pack furniture, every inch of the floor and bed covered in pieces, head in her hands.

“What’s, uh...goin’ on here?” Bianca asks.

Courtney looks up, eyes teary.

“I was trying to build the crib,” she says. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“That’s so sweet.” Bianca chuckles slightly. “And I mean...I am surprised, so-”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a fucking disaster, I just can’t figure out these instructions and I already had to take it apart three times and I-” Courtney’s breath hitches as she tries to hold back her tears.

“Hey, it’s okay. Although we may have to revoke your lesbian card if you can’t even handle IKEA,” Bianca teases, then stops.

Courtney isn’t laughing along; she isn’t seeing any humor in the situation. She actually looks distraught. Bianca kneels down beside her.

“Court...hey...” A pang of guilt washes over her as she realizes that this is all her fault. Courtney is 27, and it’s the last day of a holiday weekend. She should be day drinking on a boat, or dancing in front of a barbecue full of veggie burgers - something fun, with music and friends and laughter. Not stressed out over building a crib for a baby that she never asked for.

“I’m so sorry, B.” The look on her face breaks Bianca’s heart. Just exhausted, miserable defeat.

“No, I’m sorry, I never meant to bring all this stress into your life-”

“You didn’t! I just wanted to do something nice for you, I-”

“You do nice things for me every day,” Bianca tells her, shaking her head. She reaches out to touch her hand softly. “You know what I was thinking when I was in the uber from the airport?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait to be home.”

Courtney looks at her for a few moments, not quite believing it.

“Really?”

“Really,” Bianca promises. “You know what else I was thinking?”

Courtney shakes her head.

“I’m really fucking hungry.”

“Oh god, shit, of course you are.” Courtney scrambles up, springing to action. “Um, we still have a bunch of that vegetable soup, and I think there’s some brown rice in the-”

“Courtney, I can fix dinner.”

“But you just took a long flight, and-”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t flying the plane. I was just sitting there, popping those herbal xanax you gave me. And by the way, those things are shit.”

“Sorry,” Courtney says, still a bit teary.

“I’m kidding. I mean, they are shit but...” Bianca trails off. Courtney is still looking a bit frayed and delicate, and maybe making fun of her isn’t what she needs at the moment. She takes a deep breath. “…Look, I know I’ve been a mess...”

When Courtney begins to protest, she holds up her hand.

“No, it’s true. I’ve been a mess. It’s okay to say it. But...I won’t always be a mess. And you’re allowed to have bad days, too. I need to be the one to take care of you sometimes. Okay?”

Courtney finally smiles, taking a deep breath and nodding.

“Okay.”

“There’s just one little...problem.”

“What? Are you okay? What-”

“I need help getting up.”

Courtney starts to laugh, pulling Bianca to her feet. Once they are face to face, Courtney looks at her for a long moment, eyes soft.

“I love you, B.”

For a brief moment, Bianca agonizes about what she means, exactly. What kind of love? Is she still talking about friendship? Is this a confession? What now? But then, she swallows back her swirling insecurities and simply goes with it. She wraps her arms around Courtney’s waist, buries her face in her neck. Breathes.

“I love you too, Court,” she murmurs softly against her skin.

***

Bianca stands at the stove, finishing up a quick stir fry, when Courtney enters the kitchen. Her hair is damp, face scrubbed clean, a look of mild embarrassment playing on her face.

“Hey...feeling any better?”

Courtney nods, fingering a lock of her hair.

“I’m sorry about all that, I was just-” She pauses, biting her lips, then changes course. “That smells good.”

“Come taste…”

She steps up to the stove, allowing Bianca to cup her chin, feeding her a piece of bell pepper off the wooden spoon.

“Seasoning okay? I think it needs more salt.”

“Maybe a tiny bit…” Courtney shifts, still looking uncomfortable.

Bianca focuses back on the stove, humming softly under her breath. When she lifts up her head to speak, it’s at the same time as Courtney.

“You know-”

“I just want-” Courtney stops, laughing a little. “Sorry, you go.”

“You’re allowed to have a bad day.”

“I know, but-”

“You think I don’t know, how stressful all of this has been for you? Just because you don’t complain, doesn’t mean I don’t understand.”

“It’s not like that, honestly.”

Bianca decides to leave it. Beckons her over to taste the food again.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

Bianca wipes a tiny bit of sauce from Courtney’s lip with her thumb, sucks it into her own mouth without thinking. Her cheeks immediately begin to heat up, and she clears her throat.

“Um, can you grab plates? This is almost-”

“Sure, of course.” Courtney quickly busies herself with setting the table. “Want some coconut water?”

“Alright…” Bianca chuckles. “You know, I actually missed that damn coconut water this weekend.”

Courtney giggles.

“I’m glad you finally understand how good it is.”

“Only that brand though, and only when it’s diluted,” Bianca says, shaking the wooden spoon at her.

“Right, of course.” Courtney flashes her a smile.

When they sit down to eat, Bianca can’t shake the feeling that something has changed. Something unspoken and important. She catches Courtney’s eye and they exchange a long, heated look. Bianca feels her pulse quicken, knows that her cheeks must be at flushed as Courtney’s.

She squirms in her seat, trying unsuccessfully to shove aside her anxieties like she’d done earlier. Finally, she can’t take it anymore.

“What are we doing right now?”

Courtney shakes her head slowly.

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, you wanted to wait. Do you still-”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to know what’s right,” Courtney admits. “I’m just trying to...I’m a bit...conflicted.”

“That’s fair,” Bianca says, but can’t ignore the pang of disappointment in her chest. She really thought that something would be different tonight. She’s afraid to let herself hope that it still might be.

They eat the rest of the meal in relative silence, minds spinning. There’s so much they want to say - need to say - to each other, but neither of them knows where to begin.

Later, when Bianca stands at the sink and begins to scrub the pans, Courtney reaches into the hot, soapy water and pries the sponge out of her hand.

“You cooked,” she reasons.

“Okay, but, if you’d cooked, would you let me do the dishes?” Bianca asks.

“That’s not a fair comparison,” Courtney tells her, a smile pulling at her mouth.

“Why not?” Bianca releases the sponge.

“I’m not pregnant.”

“Yeah, thank god for that,” she mutters automatically, cringing a little when she sees Courtney’s eyes widen. “I mean, uh...I think I’m enough of a hormonal basket case for both of us.”

Courtney doesn’t respond to that, merely begins scrubbing the small saucepan vigorously.

Bianca sighs, drying her hands.

“Look, I know that you’re...that you have reservations, and I don’t blame you. And I’m not trying to pressure you, or...but my feelings haven’t changed. So, whenever you decide that you want to…” Bianca swallows down the lump rising in her throat. “I’ll be here.”

Courtney continues to scrub, slower now, appears to be mulling over what Bianca’s saying with grave consideration.

“I just want you to be sure,” she finally says.

“I’m sure.”

Courtney turns around and looks her in the eyes.

“And, I’ve never been sure about anything like this. But...yeah, I’m sure about you.”

Her eyes are so soft, so warm, and when Courtney looks at her, all the feelings she’s been pushing away for almost a year come flooding in. She drops the sponge and dries her hands, chest rising and falling rapidly with shallow little breaths.

Bianca waits.

Time seems to slow down as Courtney walks forward, eyes locked with Bianca’s. She stops, both hands reaching up to cup her face, gaze falling to her full lips, then back up to her eyes.

In spite of the heat in the kitchen, the hair prickles on the back of Bianca’s neck, nearly causing her to shiver in anticipation. Courtney’s so close now that she can feel her heartbeat, pounding as rapidly as her own. Her eyes flick down to Bianca’s softly parted lips again, and Bianca can’t help the breathy sigh that escapes her, feeling Courtney’s thumbs gently stroking her cheekbones.

Bianca licks her lips, still waiting, practically trembling now.

As Courtney closes the last bit of distance between them, Bianca’s eyes fall closed, entirely focused on the feel of soft lips pressing against hers, hands still holding her cheeks, grounding her.

It’s nothing like their first kiss, the breathless, intoxicated excitement of finally giving in to their innermost desires, the dangerous thrill of eyes on them. Or even later that night, alone, the desperation of knowing it could be the last time.

This kiss is soft, tentative at first--then slow, leisurely, utterly indulgent. Both of them well aware that they have all the time in the world, allowing themselves to breathe into it, feel every sensation down to their toes. This kiss is every unspoken glance, every disregarded feeling, every secret desire whispered in the dark.

Bianca can’t tell, once they separate, if it’s been seconds, minutes, or hours. All she knows, as Courtney presses a forehead against hers, is how right it feels, how safe and warm and perfect. She wraps her arms tightly around Courtney’s waist, entirely unmotivated to move from this spot, to let go of this moment. Her head drops, nose tucked into Courtney’s neck, inhaling her scent.

Almost unconsciously, her lips begin to trace Courtney’s collarbone, hungry for the taste of her skin. A stifled, high pitched whimper spurs her on, makes her grip Courtney’s waist tighter, kisses turning feverish, their embrace growing heated and sweaty. She backs Courtney up into the table, using the hard wooden surface to keep them both grounded.

Courtney’s fingers tangle deeper into her hair, body arching forward as Bianca’s hands slide up under her shirt. Her skin is still buttery soft from her shower, and Bianca rakes blunt nails up her back, tongue chasing the biting kisses along her neck.

The intensity builds in Bianca’s body, heart pounding so loudly that she almost doesn’t hear the sudden CRASH as a plate shatters to the floor.

“Shit!” Courtney reels back, gasping for air, cheeks a dark red.

Bianca gulps. Regret fills her chest - not at the (now former, RIP) plate, but at the fact that Courtney is no longer in her arms, that she’s tugging her shirt down and sliding off the table.

“Careful, you’ve got bare feet!”

“I’m okay,” Courtney says. “Don’t move; I’ll get a broom.”

“I-”

Bianca’s heart slowly stops pounding, and when Courtney reappears in the doorway, wearing tennis shoes and armed with a broom, she smiles sheepishly at her.

“I’m sorry about your dish.”

“It’s fine.” Courtney glances down, frowning. “You have bare feet, too.”

“Yeah, I know, hand me the-What are you doing?!” she shrieks, as Courtney begins to scoop her up. “You’re not gonna be able to lift me, stop-”

“Shhh…” Courtney carries her out of the kitchen and continues to the living room. Bianca stops squirming, quickly realizing that she isn’t going to drop her.

“This is a little excessive,” Bianca says, feet dangling, now secure in Courtney’s arms. She tilts her head girlishly. “I guess I should stop talking shit about CrossFit, huh?”

“Guess so,” Courtney deposits her onto the sofa and places a kiss lovingly on her forehead. “You can wait here; I’ll finish cleaning up.”

“But-”

Courtney tosses her a wink and scampers back to the kitchen. Bianca’s head drops to the cushions, a smile playing on her face.

***

“...B?”

Bianca’s eyes open slowly, registering that it’s now dark. Courtney kneels down in front of her, a hand on her waist.

“What time is it?” Bianca croaks, rubbing her eyes.

“Almost ten. I thought you’d probably want to move to an actual bed.”

Bianca yawns, nodding, and lets Courtney help her up from the sofa.

After Bianca quickly gets ready for bed, she pads down the hall to the bedroom, noticing a sliver of light coming from Courtney’s room. She knocks on the door, and it swings open a second later.

“Everything okay?”

“Sleep with me,” Bianca requests, following up a split second later with, “Please.”

As an answer, Courtney steps forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Once they’re in bed, limbs tangled together, lips seeking each other out in the dark, Bianca feels so warm and content that her body immediately relaxes, eyes falling shut against her will. She struggles to keep them open, protesting weakly when Courtney stops kissing her and suggests that they should just sleep.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she whines, fingers gripping Courtney’s t-shirt.

“You have a 6 am call tomorrow,” Courtney murmurs into her hair. “And you need to rest.”

Bianca lets out a small whimper, fighting the exhaustion weighing down on her, as Courtney wraps tighter around her.

“It’s okay. We’ve got plenty of time…”

“Mmmhmm…” Bianca finally relents, burying her face in Courtney’s hair as sleep envelopes her.

[coopdigitalnewsletter]

8 Oct 2019: The AI will interview you now. Uber work. Amazon rumours. Facebook leak.

Hello, this is the Co-op Digital newsletter - it looks at what's happening in the internet/digital world and how it's relevant to the Co-op, to retail businesses, and most importantly to people, communities and society. Thank you for reading - send ideas and feedback to @rod on Twitter. Please tell a friend about it!

[Image: Bladerunner fandom]

The AI will interview you now

Face recognition technology and AI is being used in job interviews in the UK “to identify the best candidates”, says the Telegraph. Unilever and other use HireVue’s AI to 

“analyse the language, tone and facial expressions of candidates when they are asked a set of identical job questions which they film on their mobile phone or laptop. The algorithms select the best applicants by assessing their performances in the videos against about 25,000 pieces of facial and linguistic information compiled from previous interviews of those who have gone on to prove to be good at the job.”

It’s not doing face recognition, it’s doing behaviour recognition. Something like: “These facial and speech behaviours are correlated with the interviewee being a good employee - thumbs up, +4 career points”.

It’s natural that this feels a bit wrong because humans are unique and special, right? In truth though, they are bound by fairly predictable behaviours, and really it’s not that hard to have a computer watch the face of a human and make judgements. It’s science you can trust, and in fact it weeds out bias because the machine doesn’t care, unlike a human interviewer who’ll bring loads of messy biases. So it’s a good thing, it’s progress.

Oh sorry wait, it’s a science you can trust as long as the data the machine learning model was trained on was large and unbiased. And as long as none of the interviewees look different to the ones in the training data. And as long as the machine learning doesn’t inadvertently amplify any systemic biases in the hiring organisation’s practices (or Hirevue itself’s). And as long as interviewees can meaningfully give consent to be catalogued by a machine. And as long as no discrimination law is being broken by having the computer say no. And as long as some job applicants aren’t freaked out by being video-interviewed by a Voight-Kampff machine.

Here the newsletterbot is guilty of bias: it believes humans to be sufficiently complex that it will be hard to effectively “machine learn” the problem that is organisations, their people, their culture, their politics, the webs of motivations and incentives, their jobs and the humans that might potentially fit well.

Still, HireVue says they’re serious about ethical and accurate machine learning, so fingers crossed 😬. An interesting read on video interviews. YouTube is full of videos about how to do well in a HireVue video interview, here’s one. Watching them, you’re struck by the asymmetry: the machine and later an employer watching your interview video, but you seeing nothing except the questions and the webcam’s black eye. So interviewing would be perhaps be a bit fairer if the employer also had 30 seconds to consider and 3 minutes to answer on camera the interviewee’s questions.

Unrelated, but relevant because it’s about bias and how it and power are inadvertently expressed in technology: “Google contractors allegedly offered darker-skinned homeless people $5 dollar gift cards to scan their faces for facial recognition software”.

Uber work

Uber’s temp agency platform, Uber Work has launched in Chicago. The company says: “We believe that finding work shouldn’t have to be a job in itself. For positions as diverse as being a prep cook, warehouse worker, a commercial cleaner or event staff, Uber Works aims to make it easier to find and claim a shift.”

Here’s a fictional look at temp workers in 2023, and hopefully Uber Works doesn’t nudge work in that direction. Something that empowers shift workers is a better model: “crowdsourcing information about what it’s really like to work somewhere, turning it into recommendations about employers that could be better for you” (from plucky UK startup Poplar).

Elsewhere, a successful taxi co-op: “A worker owned taxi coop in Southend has grown from 6 to 70 drivers. They repaid all their investors and returned £3000 to their members last year. The same year Uber left the area after failing to compete with them.”

Amazon rumours

Amazon to sell its Go technology to airports, cinemas, sports venues? Interesting if true - eventually there would be a tension between the platform and the grocery businesses (see also: Ocado in 2017ish).

Amazon is said to be hiring property experts in UK.

Similar rumour: but in Los Angeles. A dozen leases have been signed in Los Angeles, reports the Wall St journal. 7 burning questions about Amazon's new grocery chain.

Facebook leak: trust deficit internally?

A Facebooker leaked audio of an all-team Zuckermeet. The media reported it as FB boss Zuckerberg saying he’d fight (too) hard against politicians etc, but the transcript suggests that his comments were actually fairly standard stuff. This story is more notable for the fact that an employee recorded and leaked the meeting - growing cultural/trust deficit internally, perhaps?

Cryptocurrency news

Paypal has pulled out of the Facebook-led Libra cryptocurrency consortium, saying that it’s not you Libra it’s me. Rumours: Mastercard and Visa aren’t so sure either.

Police auctioned off £240,000 of cryptocurrency confiscated from a hacker - if it had been a confiscated 3 Series with a spoiler kit and spinner rims you’d have expected to be able to snag a good deal, but money’s money so maybe there wasn’t a discount in this case.

“The pain in my jaw from holding just one cryptocurrency had reduced me to an all-liquid diet. I was not cut out to be a trader.” - a good piece on the subsistence lives of small-scale cryptocurrency traders (also a decent backgrounder on cryptocurrencies).

Other news

How grocery pickup is evolving - supermarkets trying to make click-n-collect faster.

Supreme Court hands victory to blind man who sued Domino's over website accessibility - see previous story on this.

Climate Action Tech: “empower technology professionals to play our part - to meet, discuss, learn and take climate action” - needed because the tech industry uses a lot of energy.

No good urban ebike deed goes unpunished. “Horrible. One good deed rewarded with a scary blend of the so-called sharing economy, the commercialisation of communal spaces, and authoritarian surveillance capitalism, all sugared with the unbearable style of wackaging. May every dockless bike and scooter scheme go bust as soon as possible.”

Workshop tactics for agile teams - looks good.

Job ad for Ocado developers is neatly placed in the website’s code.

Previous newsletters:

Most opened newsletter in the last month: competing with Amazon Go. Most clicked story: Why don’t we just call agile what it is: feminist.

News 1 year ago: curated convenience and paying with your data.

News 2 years ago: eGovernment (single digital market) and first mile logistics (Amazon keeping inventory in retailer warehousing).

Co-op Digital news and events

What the data and feedback show about 3 digital services in our Food stores.

Public events:

Manchester WordPress User Group - Wed 16 Oct 6.30pm at Federation House.

Tech for Good Live vs the climate crisis - Thu 17 Oct 6.30pm at Federation House.

Business Growth Hub - Moving your business forward - Mon 21 Oct 12pm at Federation House.

Meet the expert - marketing approach - Tue 22 Oct 12pm at Federation House.

Meet the expert - hints and tricks on social media - Wed 23 Oct 1pm at Federation House.

Human values in software production - Tue 5 Nov 6pm at Federation House.

Practitioners Forum: vital lessons for key co-operators - Thu 7 Nov at the Studio, Manchester.

Pods Up North , an event for podcasters - Sat 23 Nov 9am at Federation House.

Mind the Product - MTP Engage - Fri 7 Feb 2020 - you can get early bird tickets now.

Internal events:

Digital all hands - Wed 9 Oct 1pm at Fed House Defiant.

Co-operate show & tell - Wed 9 Oct 3pm at Fed House 6th floor kitchen.

Food ecommerce show & tell - Mon 14 Oct 10.15am at Fed House 5th floor.

Delivery community of practice - Mon 14 Oct 1.30pm.

What has the web team been up to? - Tue 15 Oct 1.30pm at Fed House 5th floor.

Health show & tell - Tue 15 Oct 2.30pm at Fed House 5th floor.

Engineering community of practice - Wed 16 Oct 1pm at fed House Defiant.

Targeted marketing (CRM) show & tell - Wed 16 Oct 3pm at Angel Square 13th floor breakout area.

Membership show & tell - Fri 18 Oct 3pm at Fed House 6th floor kitchen.

More events at Federation House - and you can contact the events team at  federation.events@coopdigital.co.uk. And TechNW has a useful calendar of events happening in the North West. 

Thank you for reading

Thank you, beloved readers and contributors. Please continue to send ideas, questions, corrections, improvements, etc to the newsletterbot’s word gardener @rod on Twitter. If you have enjoyed reading, please tell a friend!

If you want to find out more about Co-op Digital, follow us @CoopDigital on Twitter and read the Co-op Digital Blog. Previous newsletters.

[writeawayharry]

The Kindergarten Teacher (Daddy Harry)

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

You straightened the stack of papers on your immaculate desk one last time. You always kept your workspace impeccably clean, but your nerves were getting the best of you and you kept fidgeting. Four- year olds, you could deal with. Seeing all their parents on parent-teacher interview night was another story. Surely it wouldn’t be so bad, talking for a few minutes to the mothers and fathers of the children you love so much. But you couldn’t be certain, as this was your first full-time teaching job.

Taking a deep breath, you greeted the first set of parents scheduled to meet you as the clock struck 6:00 p.m. With a nervous smile, you began telling Mr. and Mrs. Smalls about their son Johnny’s progress. And so the night went on.

Three hours later, you had seen almost all the parents and were beyond exhausted. But, there was one more meeting to be held, scheduled for 9:30. It was little Darcy’s dad. Biting your lower lip, you studied the only name on your sheet that had yet to be crossed off: Mr. Styles. When you saw the handwritten note in Darcy’s agenda that her father requested an interview outside of the regular hours, you agreed without hesitation. All parents deserved to meet with the teacher, and you were committed to making everything work out for your students. You recalled one of your co-workers mentioning something to you about her dad being famous but you didn’t want that information to make you nervous.

You were scanning Darcy’s report card one last time, glancing over her strengths and weaknesses when you heard a soft knock at your door. Placing a polite smile on your lips, you opened it.

“Hello, welcome. I’m Ms…” you began the spiel you had given all the parents tonight, but your voice trailed off into nothing once you saw who the guest was.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” a deep, masculine voice asked. That voice came from the most beautiful, pink, pillowy lips. The lips you were currently staring at. His green, sparkly eyes were currently staring at you.

“Y-y-es, come on in,” you stuttered.

Mr. Styles sat in the chair opposite you and you wanted to laugh at how much better he looked than all the parents sitting there before him. The seat beside him was still empty.

“Will your wife be joining us, umm...Mr. Styles?” you asked shyly.

The kind smile he was wearing fell with your question. “No, it’s just me,” he stated.

Shit, you cursed yourself. Who were you to prod and ask personal questions like that? Clearly she wasn’t coming. The only reason you asked was because you felt too intimidated to be sitting alone with him.

“And please, call me Harry,” he insisted.

You smiled shyly, still blushing from your earlier intrusive comment. Clearing your throat, you became all business. You told Harry that his daughter was a special and sweet girl who was always kind to her classmates, but had a tendency to not do her homework. Now it was his turn to be embarrassed.

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” he apologized. “I’m not the best at pushing Darcy to do her schoolwork.”

You nodded. It was easy to see that Darcy had her father wrapped around her little finger.

After that, there wasn’t much more to say. The meeting was coming to a close, even though you didn’t want it to. Harry was much easier to talk to than all the other parents, despite the fact that he was so good-looking he made you blush.

You kindly informed him that he could leave and began to gather your purse and coat. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Harry stand and wait for you. You looked to the floor with a flush on your cheeks.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said shyly.

He shrugged easily. “You waited for me to have this meeting, the least I could do is wait for you to leave.”

You were momentarily stunned by his thoughtfulness. Most men—hell, most people—didn’t think like that.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” he continued. “Darcy has told me a lot about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Your eyebrow raised in curiosity. “What does she say?”

“She says you’re nice and pretty,” he admitted.

You giggled. “Darcy’s a sweet girl.”

“Yeah, and she knows what she’s talking about too.”

You froze, right there in the middle of the school hallway. Harry was looking at you with a sideways grin on his face, eyes squinty and happy. You felt your stomach grow warm.

This was your student’s father, you told yourself. Things needed to end before they could even begin.

“Goodbye, Harry,” you whispered.

…

“I don’t know, Ella, I’m not exactly up for a night out,” you told your friend over the phone.

“Oh, come on, it’s a Saturday night, and we’re not even thirty yet! I want to go out,” she insisted. You rolled your eyes; you could just see her pouting on the other end of the line.

You sighed heavily. You were already in your pajamas, in fact, you had yet to change out of them from last night. Parent-teacher interviews left you drained and you just wanted to sit and lounge for the rest of the afternoon.

“Look, I know this is last minute,” Ella reasoned, “but my boss just gave me the tickets yesterday afternoon. I hear the act is supposed to be good. Not too many people, either.”

“Why don’t you go alone?”

Ella didn’t even respond to that.

“Fine. Give me an hour to get ready.”

…

Redmond Hall was tiny, as far as concert venues went. The “stage” was a mere foot off the ground and there were only a few rows in the audience. It looked like the setting for an opera show, but most of the upper decks were blocked off.

“Is this some exclusive event, or something?” you whispered to Ella as you found your seats. You didn’t know why you felt the need to whisper…it just seemed so…intimate.

“No, I don’t think so,” Ella answered in her usual chipper voice. “It’s small because, well, because that’s the point. The tour’s called the Intimate Harry Styles Experience for a reason.”

Your jaw dropped and goose bumps rose on your skin, all over your body. “That’s who’s performing?”

Ella looked at you funny. “Yeah, didn’t I mention that on the phone?”

You shook your head, unable to form words. Harry Styles. The same Harry Styles you saw last night. The same Harry Styles who was the father of your student.

Oh boy.

Ever since you saw him, you knew you wanted to see him again, but you didn’t think it would be this soon.

The lights dimmed, and the small crowd made a considerable amount of noise as Harry came onto the stage with a guitar.

“It’s starting!” Ella said needlessly.

…

Good lord that boy can sing. And perform. And look good while doing it. You enjoyed the show immensely and found yourself lost in his charm. You knew he saw—and recognized—you at the start. He had said something about liking to notice the colours in people’s eyes as he made eye contact with you. You ducked your head in embarrassment.

As big as Harry was, you were surprised at how casual the whole set-up was. Granted, the audience was entirely made of adults, and Harry himself, if the tabloids were correct, was a few years shy of thirty, so there were no hormonal teenagers here. But still. You just never knew.

When the lights turned back on, you immediately turned away, getting ready to leave, but felt your name being called. You knew that voice. It was Harry.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked, approaching you.

A few people were looking at you with a side-eye, but no one said or did anything.

“Yeah, it was great. You were…great,” you said lamely.

Ella gushed beside you. “You two know each other?”

Just as you answered no, Harry said yes.

You felt Harry’s eyes on you as you gave Ella a look. You could tell her mind was working.

“Something came up, Y/N, I won’t be able to take you home tonight,” Ella told you slyly.

What the hell? What did that even mean?

“Okay, I’ll call a cab,” you said.

“Or I can take you,” Harry offered.

And that’s how you found yourself in Harry’s black range rover.

…

The ride to your apartment was filled with small talk. You could tell Harry was satisfied with his performance, and he should be.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you told him for about the fifth time.

He smiled. “I wanted to.”

Harry had pulled up to your building and was idling.

“Would you…would you like to come inside?” you blurted suddenly.

His eyes widened.

“For a drink or something?” you added quietly.

“You want me to?” Harry asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I want you to.”

…

The elevator ride to your floor was awkward due to the teenage couple making out wildly inside it. As soon as the two of you slipped out, you burst into laughter.

“I don’t even think they noticed who you were,” you told him.

Harry looked at you softly. “Yeah, but neither do you.”

Instead of answering him, you bit your lip and stepped into your apartment.

“Where’s Darcy tonight?” you asked as your poured a glass of wine for the two of you.

“She’s with my sister.”

You handed him his wine and sat down on the couch beside him. You were thankful your small apartment only had one couch. That way, you could be closer to him.

“Thanks,” he said as he brought the glass to his lips.

You stared at the way his lips deepened in colour with the moonlight and wine.

“Can I ask you something Harry?”

He nodded.

“Where’s Darcy’s mom?” you asked quietly.

Harry inhaled a sharp breath. “I don’t know. She left Darcy with me after she gave birth to her. We initially wanted to put her up for adoption, but I couldn’t go through with it. It wasn’t fair for me to expect Alessia to stay, so she just left.”

“Wow,” you said under your breath.

“Can I ask you a question now?” he returned.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nearly spit up your wine. “You’re asking me if I have a boyfriend?”

“I am,” he said easily. Harry was a man, one who wasn’t ashamed to let a woman know when he wanted her.

“I don’t,” you answered truthfully. “Not anymore.”

Harry just took a drink of his wine.

“Darcy’s a special girl,” you said, changing the subject. “You’re very lucky to have her.”

Harry looked at you tenderly as he heard the emotion in your voice.

“I’m guessing you like kids,” he said in a soft voice.

“Yeah, I love them,” you said as a tear slid down your face. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

“Don’t apologize. You can tell me, if you want.”

You finished your wine and sat the glass down on the table. “I was in love once. His name was Matt. We had always talked about getting married and having kids. We both wanted that more than anything.” You swallowed. “We had just gotten engaged when I got pregnant. We couldn’t have been happier. But…but then a few weeks later I had a miscarriage.”

You stopped as more tears fell.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered.

You shook your head. “That’s not all. Something was—I mean is—very wrong with me, at least my body. The doctors told me it’d be impossible for me to have a healthy pregnancy. Matt left the next morning.”

“What a jerk,” Harry said soothingly, wiping your tears.

“I can’t blame him. He wanted kids. Who would want me knowing I can’t give them children?” you cried.

Harry gently cradled your face in his hands. “Me.”

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

[mangled-dreams]

Flower Ring

Another vomit of words. I seem to be doing a lot of word vomit stories, and here’s another featuring Anti X Reader.

Growing u in a split household proved to be interesting when you were a child. You’d spend the school year with your mother in the United States, on long breaks and for summer you’d stay with your father in Ireland. It was like living two separate lives that still intermingled. It was and still is fabulous.

Thanks to your father you are a duel American-Irish citizen.

You’ve seen other families try to manage a split house with very little success. Your parents however are amazing. Even though you have to travel over the Atlantic ocean in order to see your dad on a regular basis you can’t ever pinpoint a time your mother, or father, complained about the trouble. Your planned visitations started when you were six and able to understand what was going on.

You honestly thank you parents for being so cool with the whole thing.  Your mom would fly over and drop you off with your dad. She’d even change her flights if you were have a particularly bad time being left behind. Despite having so much distance between them your parents co-parented very well. Consistency between the households really helped shape you into a proper young lady and well rounded person.

And, yes, you loved your mixed background, the way you were raised, and all the unique experiences only this kind of situation could give you, you’re thankful for your childhood because it gave you Anti. He still is your single most favorite memory. You’re not sure what exactly he was, but he was kind to you and kept you well entertained—even if it were in a naughty in way of mischief.

You always looked forward to going to Ireland to see your family and to see Anti. He always had something new for you to do each time you went home. He’d make you a promise to see each other again each time you left until he just didn’t show up anymore.

Thinking about it, even now, makes your heart ache a little. Even though he was different, and most likely of the fray you really did love him. A girlish crush--that still to this day has not dissipated. Staring out the rain covered window in your apartment you can still see Anti standing just inside the trees the lined your dad’s property wearing the biggest grin you’d ever seen. It looked painful, but mixed with the glitter of happiness in his eyes you doubt it hurt him.

You wonder what he looks like now. He’s probably tall with slightly curly dark brown hair and the same brilliant blue eyes with the left eye that sometimes changed color. You sigh lowering your gaze. You know it doesn’t do you any good to dwell on the past.

No matter how many times you went back to search for him, you never found any trace of Anti after your fourteenth birthday. Frowning again you curl your hands into fists, bunching your shirt between your hand and fingers. It’s because of that stupid promise you made all those years ago that you can’t get the boy out of your mind no matter how hard you’d try.

So, you stopped trying to forget him. You put away the pretty flower ring he’d crafted before your eyes when you were ten and tried to move on. However, moving on his hard when you can’t seem to shake yourself of Anti’s memory.

“Why do you do this?” Jase asks, shouts really at you. You feel numb to his loud voice; to the way he tries to intimidate you into submission. You’ve been dating for almost a year and yet it feels like an eternity of torture. You need to cut him loose.

“Jase, if you don’t like how I am then leave. I’ve been through this too many times to try and stick it out. You obviously don’t want to try and understand how I feel and I don’t have the patience to explain it.” You tell him feeling alone again. You hate this feeling and part of you has actually gotten used to it, but it’s not what you really want.

Jase stares at you as if you’ve grown a third head. “I fucking knew it! You’re still waiting to see if that fucker from Ireland will sweep you off your fucking feet.”

Okay, now that strikes a nerve. You don’t talk about Anti with anyone, and you mean no one. Standing up from your small perch you glare up at Jase. The quickest way to get a reaction out of you is to talk about Anti and that’s only because it would mean Jase went through your private books. “I told you Jase; never touch my books. How dare you think you have any right to go through my thing?” You explode, there is very little another person can do to make you this angry.

“See! You show more emotion for some guy you met when you were a child than for your own boyfriend!” Jase responds in kind, matching your volume.

“Not any more you’re not! I don’t ask you for a lot, Jason, but when I do I expect there to be some level of respect. Apparently you don’t feel like you should respect my wishes so do me a favor and leave.” You snap heated by Jase’s clear disregard for your privacy.

Jase stares down at you, flabbergasted by your strong reaction. “Really, that little shit still gets this kind of reaction from you? It’s been over twelve Goddamn years, Y/n, let it go and move on!” Jase shouts back at you.

His words might as well have been his hand cross your face. You can’t help the look of hurt from showing on your face. “Get out, Jase. I am telling you to get out of my house.” You growl out when you’ve recovered. “You have no right to talk about thinks you know nothing about.”

“You’ll regret this. Your precious Anti will never show up.” Jase spits at you, his words like venom as he snatches up his jacket and leaves you apartment, slamming the door behind him.

You last just a few seconds longer before the tears drip down your cheeks. You hate the crushing loneliness that accompanies another failed relationship. It’s your own fault, you know that. Holding on to the false hope that Anti will reappear is killing you. No one else measures up to the man you think Anti would be if you saw him today.

An hour later you lie down on your bed and look at the plane ticket in your hand. Jason wasn’t completely correct. It’s been fifteen years almost to the day. You’ve had this ticket ordered for a year and this time tomorrow you’ll be in Glasgow, Ireland touching down and being greeted by your father.

In four days it will mark the fifteenth year you and Anti made your sacred promise. In four days you’ll go back to your promised meeting place and see if Anti appears. In four days you’ll know if all your hopes and dreams, and if all these years of waiting will pay off or if you’ll be left with a broken heart yet again.

With a sigh you roll to your side and put the ticket on your nightstand. You don’t know why you hold on to this silly promise but you do. You want it to be real—for Anti to be real. Reaching above your head you take the hand stitched Anti plushy of your design and curl into yourself. Your flight leaves at ten tonight and you still have a few things to pack but for a few more minutes you’ll lay with your doll and dream.

Beyond your vision Anti stares through the window pane, his gaze the softest it’s been in a long time. He’d been waiting for the bastard you’d been snogging to get his arse kicked. He knew the guy was no good, but it hadn’t been confirmed until Anti had seen him hanging all over another girl and knew it was the time to strike.

To the idiot’s credit he did feel guilty but his guilt manifested as blame and suspicion fell on you. All Anti had to do was feed those embers of doubt until they exploded in a fiery blaze. He does, however feel horrible that you’d been put through such a scene, but in a few short hours you’ll be back in Ireland and in his arms.

Yes, Anti has been keeping an eye on you ever since the day he was forced from you; but a demon has to go through their own growing up. He knew from the beginning he wouldn’t be able to stay, to continue to win your affections through fair means. No, it was a desperate attempt on his side when he suggested the pact, the promise that’s followed you. If single, even after fifteen years, you’d meet again at your secret spot and marry each other.

Watching you from a safe distance and with a little bit of magic Anti smiles. You almost over sleep from your nap and are now rushing about your apartment, hurrying to finish your checklist. He already knows you plan to be in Ireland for almost a month this time, something you hadn't told your now ex.

Almost as if knowing where he is you look out your window, your gaze piercing through his invisible form. It takes Anti a brief moment to remember you can't actually see him and relaxes. He waits until your mother shows up to take you the airport, taking his leave once you've locked up your door.

If all goes as planned you'll be moving to Ireland and you'll give up this small apartment.

"Safe trip dear." Your mother says hugging you tightly. You smile hugging her back.

"Thanks mom. Let Mason know I say bye." You respond looking at the chart of flights entering and exiting the airport. "I should get going. I love you." You tell your mother kissing her cheek before removing yourself from her grasp. Walking up to the counter you check in your large luggage bag and exchange your ticket before heading to the security check line.

You make it through the line in record time due to the time of night and walk peacefully to your gate. There is a small group of people already at the gate sprinkled here and there, a few couples paired together. You take a seat near the terminal tunnel and pullout your tablet, connect to the WiFi, and browse the internet.

When your flight is taxied into the terminal you wait for the few people disembarking to exit and pack your things up again. It take about twenty minutes but soon allowed to board and find you seat. To your surprise the plane is rather full but you find your seat in the middle row at the front of the plane with no other seats taken.

Storing your bag under your seat you put your leg through the handle and turn your phone off taking out the sim card and replace it with one you know will work in Ireland once you've bought minutes for it. Buckling yourself in you people watch as the few others that had been waiting with you board and find their seat. Many look tired as worn, a few kids bouncing with excitement.

Smiling to yourself close your eyes and settle into a light sleep waking only when the plane lifts off and then again when you go in for landing many-many hours later. For having a very turbulent flight over the Atlantic you slept pretty decently waking feeling refreshed. After disembarking and gathering your luggage you head to the loading and unloading area.

" A ghrá!" Your father shouts bear hugging you tightly. It's been over a year since your last visit. Your smile is bright and warm as you gladly accept your dad's hug. For his age he's still very strong and spry.

"DA! I missed you!" You shout kissing his scruffy cheek. Your slight Irish accent getting thicker. You consciously dilute your accent and choice in words for your normal day to day activities in America just for the sake of not having to repeat yourself.

"Aye, lass, 'tis good to see you again. Come, come, le's get us home." Your dad says ushering you to his beat up Volvo. Despite the worn out coloring and dents you love this beat up old car.

"I see the ewes have been treating the ol' car with care." Beside you your father chuckles and you both talk about recent changes in the area and family that have moved away, marriages, births, and even deaths since your last visit.

"Awe, Mr. Walsh passed? That's sad. How long?"

"Sad indeed. His tribute is this weekend. Do you want to pay respects?"

Nodding quietly you look out the rolling landscape. Mr. Walsh's death really weighs on your heart. You loved the old man like a granddad. He always believed your stories about Anti, feeding you folk lore and tales of the fey. You'll miss the aged man with a kind smile and some of the best home brewed hard cider you've ever tasted.

"He left behind a will." You glance at your father with confusion. "He left you his prize possession."

Raising a brow you glance at your dad again. "His prize possession?" you echo.

You dad smiles. "He left you his recipe for his famous hard cider."

You smile to yourself at his words. Mr. Walsh had always joked he'd think about coming back from the grave to tell you before moving on to the Great Beyond.

"'Ey!" your various cousins, aunts, uncles, and neighbors cry when you come down from unpacking your thing. You smile and make your rounds, talking, joking, laughing with familiar faces. A few of the older women ask when you'll be married off and start your own family.

Your answers remain vague at best. Refusing to give any kind of solid answer since you still have 3 days to find the promised spot and see if Anti shows up. By the time everyone is at a point you can slip away it's about midnight.

Taking a flashlight, a pack with a few supplies, and a light jacket you walk behind your house and cross the small meadow to the lining of trees. Even in the darkness you know exactly where you're going. You find yourself really only using the light to look at the foliage and wild life skidding away from you.

It takes the better part of a half hour, mainly because you stopped to look at mist covered spider webs and bird nests, but your find your promised space and look around the small cottage you and Anti had built.

Each time you come back to Ireland you clean up the cottage and fix it up a little bit at a time to accommodate an older and slightly taller you. Taking out a few things from your pack you clean up the cobwebs and flooring before unrolling a light fleece blanket and sit down on the bench Anti had crafted.

You don't expect him to show up tonight. Part of you doesn't really believe Anti will every show up and yet here you are. Pulling a bottle of water you open it and take a few drinks before relaxing to the sounds of the forest.

You missed Ireland far more than you realized. Within just a few minutes you find yourself drifting in and out of consciousness. One night's sleep in the little cottage won't hurt you, but it isn't encouraged.

"Ah, what a sweet bonnie lass sleepin' in such a lonely place." A fairly high pitched male voice chuckles bringing you back to a conscious state.

Fear isn't your first reaction. There are very few people in this small town that you don't know and that would think to hurt you. Rubbing your eyes you focus on the man before you. In the darkness you can just barely make out a athletic build--more of a sprinter than a footballer, but tall, taller than yourself, with green hair atop his head.

"My da always did tell me to be polite and introduce myself when meeting someone new." You respond completely sure you've never met this man before, but even as you continue to stare at him--trying to discover him, you feel a sense of familiarity about him. "The name's Y/n. Are you from this area?" You ask standing up.

The man chuckles under his breath and in a flash of brilliant green energy the cottage lights up, illuminating the man's face. You stand in shock at the display of other worldly magic before letting your gaze settle on the man's face. Your gasp is audible in the silent space.

"You came." You manage to whisper in both fear and relief.

"Aye. I told you I'd be here waiting." Anti says with a Cheshire cat grin. There isn't a pinpoint place you can put your finger, but this adult Anti is off.

Watching him you can see bits and pieces of that young boy you'd fallen head over heels in love with, and for the first time reality crashes around you. You don't really know this person, this creature anymore. Thinking for a moment you ask, “What have you been doing all these years? I’ve come back before looking for you. Why did you just vanish?”

Anti sighs audibly, he crosses the small cottage to a small square table you’d found a long time ago and sits on the edge of it. You watch him gauge the weight the table will take before looking at you. “I am sorry about that.”

You frown at him. He feels guilty, that’s obvious. “What happened?”

“I had to leave. There was no way around it.” Anti tells you. Your frown doesn’t leave your face. That’s not really an explanation. Anti chuckles at your expression. “I knew you’d want a better talkin’.”

You nod your head. “Anti, you left without a proper goodbye. I haven’t been able to find you anywhere. I gathered as a child you weren’t completely human, but it still hurt that you just vanished.” You say softly sitting down not quite sure when exactly you’d gotten to your feet.

Anti nods. “I know. Believe me when I say it wasn’t my idea. I’m not human, aye, but that doesn’t make the time we had together any less meaningful. I had to leave because of… I’ll say family business. Just as you were hitting puberty I was going through my own version of it. I had to be taken away for the safety of others and to learn how to keep myself under control.”

“What are you?” You ask. You never asked him before.

Anti smiles. “I’m known as many things, a demon, a creature of the fey… devil; but, no matter the name, I would not hurt you.” Anti tells you, his expression serious as he speaks. “I left to protect you. Our promise was my goodbye, so that you’d remember me.”

“You left to protect me? We’re you that dangerous?” You ask softly sitting down despite never actually remembering when you stood up. Looking around the small cottage you watch tiny glowing orbs dance on the wind. Despite feeling like you’re in the Twilight Zone it feels pretty normal.

Anti nods again. “My… powers, abilities can be affected by mood, strong emotions like love, jealousy, anger; it fuels them—makes them unpredictable when first learning to control them.  Even the elders can have difficulty controlling their power if there limits are tested.”

“How do you know if you can control yourself now?” You ask seriously.

Anti doesn’t respond right away instead thinking over his answer rather than blurting out he has absolute control over himself. Watching you move on over the years had given him a lot of real world practice. He’s not going to admit how many times he’d lost to his own battle of wills, his powers going haywire at the sight of you wrapped up in another man’s arms.

“I have put myself through many tests.” Anti finally says watching you carefully—blissfully ignorant to his own personal hell. Anti knows he was very close, a couple of times to losing you forever. He’ll never tell you out loud the small ways he brought out the demons hidden deep in the few males you’d been wholeheartedly interested in. He’d seen the men for what they truly were. To him, he was saving you from future heartache.

With a low sigh you look away from Anti, your gaze settling on the bag you’d brought with you. “I still have that flower ring you made me.” You offer quietly. “I had it pressed so it wouldn’t wilt.”

“You kept it?” Anti asks already knowing it was sitting in a book of memories. He doesn’t like lying to you, but he can’t admit to all the things he’s done while you were mourning his disappearance. Shifting his stance Anti crosses on leg over the other and gauges your expressions.

You nod your head smiling at Anti, it’s as if a switch has been flipped and you can see the Anti from your childhood again. You know at this point you can fool yourself into believing things will be like they were, but doing so would just be more harmful than good.

“I see those wheels turnin’, what ‘cha thinkin’ about?” Anti asks lowering his crossed leg down. You’ve been too quiet. He already knows this is not necessarily a bad thing, nor is it a good thing.

“Anti, did you come back to fulfill our promise, or to tell me that your heart belongs to another?” You ask softly watching Anti carefully.

“Y/n, there has not been a day since we parted that you’ve left my mind. Eventually I was able to venture out from my prison—of sorts, and see the real world again. I traveled, searched for you, and eventually found you. Despite everything that happened in our separation I still want you for my bride.”

Inside your chest you feel a tight squeeze mixed with the sensation your heart dropped to your stomach. It’s hard to understand, let along describe, but it does not feel good. Eyes wide you stare at Anti. “You looked for me?” You ask hating that depending on when Anti found you, you might have been in a relationship.

“Yes, I found you many years ago, when you were seeing that boy…” Anti pauses—pretends to think about the name of your past boyfriend, a name that is already on his lips. “Devon.”

You remember Devon. He’d been your first real boyfriend. You’d dated for almost four years, two of them in high school then for two more years afterwards. You thought you’d marry Devon. He’d been so sincere and sweet, he cared about your opinion and never rose his voice—at least you thought he was all those things.

“You saw Devon?” You ask softly looking away from Anti. The ending to the relationship still haunts you.

“I almost killed him.” Anti admits without hesitation. Devon had been the only one his intervention was not needed with. Your eyes snap to his face and you know he saw what happened with Devon.

You know you should feel some amount of concern by Anti’s admission, but after everything that happened you just don’t. “I… I’m sorry Anti. At some point everyone convinced me you weren’t real and that I needed to move on.” You whisper quietly. You don’t feel ashamed of your actions, but you feel guilty that you’d tried to forget him before giving up on doing that.

Anti shakes his head. He shouldn’t feel so happy at your apology and yet he does. He looks you over in the light jacket, blue jeans, and blanket wrapped around you. He can see your temperature dropping the longer you stay outside with him. He’s being selfish but he can’t bring himself to care much.

“Don’t feel bad, Y/n. I heard the whispers from yer family and my own.” Anti tells you with a sad smile and actually causes you pain.

“Anti.” You whisper shivering slightly in the cold. You look at your watch and sigh, sleep calls you, but you don’t want to leave Anti just yet.

“I’ll walk you home.” Anti tells you standing up from the table.

“No, I’m fine,” you protest quickly. “I don’t want you to disappear again.” Anti chuckles at your mousy admission.

“I have free reign.” Anti tells you, his arms opening wide in a grand show. “I have only you to tether me.” He tells you disappearing before your eyes. Jumping up you search the room for Anti, amazed and scared at the display of magic.

Fear laces through your veins when he doesn’t immediately reappear. “Anti?” You call stepping away from the bench. You make it to the middle of the room when Anti appears behind you his arms sliding around your waist—hugging you to his strong, sturdy chest. He so solid and real it brings tears to your eyes. “You’re really here.” You whisper letting your arms lay over his and squeeze his arms with your hands. He’s really here with you.

Anti squeezes you to his chest again. “I’m not gonna leave you.” He whispers in your ear, a promise he’s making to only you yet again.

Tears roll down your cheeks. “I missed you so much Anti.”

Anti holds you for a while after your first tear falls letting you cry into his chest as you hold on to each other. He knows he put your through a lot. He’s done things he isn’t very proud of in his time away from you. He knows his anger is what really kept you apart, his anger towards any one who made you cry or encouraged you to forget him.

When you’ve tuckered yourself out he lifts you into his arms carrying you through the woods to your father’s house. He knows these grounds like the back of his hand. He already knows everyone would be home at this hour, tucked away or passed out on the floor of their homes. Without effort your back door slides open and close as he passes through the opening.

Out of instinct you clutch handfuls of Anti’s tee-shirt, his name leaving your lips as you turn into his chest for safety. All of this brings a smile to Anti’s lips. Quietly Anti coos to you and lays you down in your bed. Before he has a chance to step away you open your eyes and ask him to stay, and he does—unable to deny you a simply request.

When you wake late into the morning everything of your evening feels like a dream. Stretching your arms out you sit up and make your way to the bathroom.  It’s about midway through brushing your teeth that movement at your bedroom door catches your eye. Pausing you rinse your mouth, towel off, and head to the door.

“Da?” you call poking your head out the door.

You hear your father’s heavy footsteps come closer as he round the corner leading to the stairs. “Come to breakfast, we’ve guest.” He tells you before backtracking down the stairs. You raise a brow but draw back into your room and close the door.

Who on earth would you have to breakfast? Putting the question to the side for a few minutes you change your jeans, trade out your dirty tee-shirt for a clean one featuring Thor, and brush your hair. As you walk down the stairs to the main floor you pull your hair back into a ponytail.

“Mornin’ Da.” You call taking the last step and turn to look into the dinning room. A full spread of food is laid out before you, your mouth watering at the smell and sight of it all. You really missed your father’s cooking. “Feedin’ the whole town I see.” You say laughing.

“Growing children need goo’ food to eat.” Your father reminds you. You laugh again and shake your head. You’re as grown as you’re getting but you never remind him of it.

“So, who have you got over?” You ask taking a plate from a small stack and begin to dish up food.

Your dad doesn’t respond until he’s in the room with you, a ridiculously cute apron covering his clean clothes. You glance at him with a large smile. You love this man. “Been home not 24 fours and I’ve got a suitor calling after ya.”

Your brows knit together. “What? A suitor? I haven’t had one of those since Thomas O’Neil.” You tell him setting your plate down. “Da, what kind o’ game you playin’ at?” You ask, serious about the situation but unable to remain so with your dad looking like he is.

“Yes, he said you two knew each other in childhood.” Your dad says as Anti appears behind him, walking from behind the wall with a broad smile on his face.

“Anti.” You whisper looking from your dad to Anti and back again. Does your father even see Anti?

“You do remember him. Poor boy’s been searching all over fer you. Heard you were back in town and came by.” You dad says letting Anti walk pass him with a pat on the back. “Strong lad, good genes, you should take him up.”

Shushing your father quickly you look up at Anti. “I thought it was a dream.” You whisper keeping your face from your father’s view.

Anti chuckles. “What do you say, Y/n?” Anti kneels before you.

[ts-autumns-world]

Episode 6: “If someone can fuck you over once, then they can choose to do it again” - Raffy

Does this idol system have killer clowns walking around? Carnies doing handstands? Haunted Big Bertha’s? Who knows cause I CAN’T EVEN GET ACCESS TO THIS DAMN IDOL SYSTEM AND YALL ARE OUT HERE POCKETING SUPER IDOLS LIKE ITS AN IPOD TOUCH AND WE’RE 12.

---

WOW WHAT A VOTE. Raffy immediately having to use a Super Idol is probably ridiculously on brand, but in all honesty, seeing BENJ of all people go, is a shock to my system. I've voted out former finalists, but I thought that Benj was gonna go DEEP in this game. But now I need to focus I have to get Top 3 in this challenge to get these damn tickets. But my final thought on this super idol is that at least a *good* person got the Super Idol

this reward challenge has me so lost i hardly even go here i dont know any monologues i can perform

we're doing basic text dr today because if I talked I'll probably cry and no one wants that sahjahsjajs

so the vote happened and we were successful in voting raffy in majority. we being me Chris and benj BUT then it turned out raffy had something stupid called a superidol HJAHSJJHAS (sorry this is gonna be bitter time get ready) and was able to just basically cancel his elimination after seeing the votes???????? because who cares about strategy and having to make plans and being smart and capable of reading the tribe in successfully using an idol? no no no lets let someone just not talk to anyone and then save themselves and vote out someone who WORKS SO HARD AND IS SO ACTIVE AND PASSIONATE LIKE YEAH OKAY SAJHJSAHHJASASHJAHJSHAJS THAT MAKES SENSE

UGH

I'm sorry I'm so sad. benj was voted out because of this and I feel really empty and hurt about it. he was my best friend on this tribe we talked constantly every day and we were close in timezones and I trusted him and loved him and now we've been robbed of playing with each other in merge. we had so many plans for us too we wanted to pretend to not be that close and purposefully vote opposite and stuff. it's all ruined.

I think raffy deserves praise in FINDING the idol. but the idol itself is a get out of jail free card and requires no strategy when used like that so asjhasjhashjashj and only used in his 2nd tribal. so I'm glad it didn't last any longer and also that he didn't use it in the way survivor players usually do. by making everyone fear them sahjsajh COS THAT WOULD HAVE WORKED ON ME LIKE A CHARM. but instead we were able to flush it and even tho I've lost benj and I'm sad about it, I am very thankful that we got it flushed now and before merge. it's way more dangerous in merge. and like there was no way we could beat that. unless we split vote I guess but that wasn't possible. and also I just did not remember this was a thing BECAUSE NO ONE IN SURVIVOR HISTORY HAS USED A SUPERIDOL THE WAY IT WAS DESIGNED BECAUSE USING IT WOULD CAUSE MORE TROUBLES FOR THE HOLDER SO THEY ARE VERY STRATEGIC ABOUT IT JSAHHJASAHS so I'm actually excited to see how this carries raffy. would like to clarify I'm not anti raffy he's so nice and fun and this was such an exciting tribal thanks to him and I would have loveeeeed it as a viewer I'm just bitter because benj is gone and super idols suck. HASJHASJHASJH raffy if you read this do know I think you're great and congratulations I just think it was an easy way out WHICH IT WAS.

I guess it just made me feel powerless because there's nothing we could have done here to beat a superidol. and even if we did do Blake instead, it wouldn't change anything.

speaking of Blake he is really upset :(( I think making merge will cheer him up tho which is great because I think it's happening after this reward challenge for tickets

SPEAKING OF TICKETS

BENJ GAVE ME ALL HIS TICKETS AFTER DYING???????? AND IDK WHY LIKE do all the eliminated people get to give tickets to someone? and can it be anyone and not just someone on their tribe? much to think about. but this means I have 8 now which is pretty good I think. thank you benj I love u sm <3

it makes me wanna calculate how many tickets everyone had and who they would have given them to....hmmmm will think about it. benj has been the one who had the most upon leaving I think?

also my tarot was right because it gave raffy the tower and benj the hanged man and it all happened today AHHHH it's so sad how I predict things but don't know what it's predicting until it happens. makes me wanna reevaluate everything and see what it all could mean. could be handy.

I trust Chris the most here and I do trust Ricky I just hope they trust me. I do think we're gonna merge soon tho I really do. it makes sense.

I wonder if the tickets are for an auction or if they are the way to enter the outhouse yourself now. like the new idol system? maybe.

I'm excited to merge and get to talk to everyone and be with jinx and captain AND TALK TO JUDE MORE. YEEEE I just wish benj would have been able to join me :(((

stupid showy superidol

IT'S MY DAY 100 OF TUMBLR SURVIVOR OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDD ITS ALSO MY 5 YEAR ORG ANNIVERSARY, PLEASE DON'T VOTE ME OUT THIS ROUND.

---

A true strategist's dream is a chessboard, and if we being honest, this is just Social Chess, never view anyone as a chess piece, but they're needed for movement. I'm going to be Jinx's favorite chess piece, because they need me too.

I can no longer trust Chris in this game. He chose his side, and he chose against me. If someone can fuck you over once then they can choose to do it again. I am not able to hold it against Mikki because I did not even try to reach out to her for the whole round. So, fair enough. However, Chris just decided that I needed to go because people thought I had an idol. I guess this is the outcome. He never even promised to rebuild the bridge of trust. He just gave me "I just don't want us to lose." He's 100% targeting me again if we go to tribal. I hope I'm sent to the Outhouse as my ass is grass if I remain in this place. Maybe if I have Blake it'll be fine. Right? 

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1Uo5w98Zm_5ih0fql6dxLjbnYelD7Mn5B_JhZxL18bkY/edit?usp=sharing

HERE is my spreadsheet with trust rankings and dm counts and stuff, I also added notes on all my trust rankings for each round and some of the dm counts so if you look carefully you'll see the black like corner thing that indicates a note and all my comments on that trust ranking or whatever will pop up if you hover shajhjsahjas hopefully that works

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO super duper califragilistically excited to do this reward challenge and hopefully avoid the Double council that I know is coming because I’m pretty sure Autumn is sick of Tua winning which is a weird sentence to type but hey ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The plan really backfired heavy on us....I thought Raffy just had a half idol but nope, he had a SUPER IDOL and we lost Benj. It made for an awkward post tribal, but I'm just going to keep my head up. I am usually good with damage control so lets see what happens boom boom

---

Honestly, I liked this idea but I feel like I'm gonna be crippled by the fact that I am getting a little sick, we'll see though. I think I did okay with my damage control, but truth told, I would not blame Raffy or Blake if they wanted me out now. With Ricky back in the picture, I guess there is hope, but I have learned to not give peeps the FULL benefit of the doubt outright so I am going to sit and wait

---

I had another disaster and I pray that the one I could semi finish can be taken in, if it is, then I think I've got 4 tickets, but if not then I will forever be sad about what happened!

---

How in God's name didn’t I get 11 tickets?? I didn't even know I had more than 2

This twist is legit the worst thing to happen to me. I have no clue who I am going into tribal with. I don't have prior connections that other may have before the game. And my super idol play was super flashy. So, obviously, they would want to come for me as a prime target. I feel so defeated and I haven't even met these people yet. AND I have to go to work tomorrow so I can't even socialize/communicate as much as I would want in order to keep myself safe. I might as well be one foot in the grave at this point.

Ahhhhh I just made the merge!  Also with my pals too? Omg I hope Ricky lives at the vote. I hear Joey has been messy messy but also wants Captain?? We'll see how that goes, especially with Lily C and O Railroad there. I'm just excited for the next step in the game! I also missed Jinx and Jude so much!

Well….well….well. This is not what I anticipated. Good one, Autumn. I had a fantastic call with Jinx earlier today which helped me get a better handle and the game and feel more connected. I believe Raffy and Blake are working together and this is a great opportunity to separate them. Instantly Joey and I agree to call and figure out a plan. We both agree it’s gonna be best to get Ricky on our side. We both talk to Ricky and I suggest to Ricky that we go for Blake and he is down. Such a relief. It’s stressful to be this close to merge and think that it could slip away. I hope Joey lily o and I are on the same page no matter what. I haven’t been able to talk to her yet but I hope she is good to go for Blake. Fingers crossed.

I'LL MAKE VIDEO CONFESSIONALS WHEN ITS MERGE I SWEAR. But this is a really unique twist, I love it, but it also puts me and the Lily sandwich in a precarious position. Immediately, my thought was "go to Ricky and tell them I let them out of the War Room on Night 1", and boom, immediate bonding point, it turns out wonderfully, in talking to Ricky it was quite obvious they felt on the outs, with no power all season(they're either lying or its true, hey you never know), and for me its important to just keep them comfortable. We're voting out Blake for literally one reason: If we don't, Jinx is gonna kill us, cause yanno they're winning this game, its a foregone conclusion at this point.

---

God it's going to be brutal, imagine being Blake, not particularly well liked, and always going premerge. Maybe next time you'll finally make merge/jury, but nah you're not taking away my opportunities to shine.

---

Even at midnight on a Friday before merge, I still feel nervous, I always feel nervous, even if I'm in an incredible position, being a crucial swing in a pivotal vote to set the pace for the merge, it's absolutely crucial that I make sure Ricky is good with us 3, once again the 2 votes I've been in, I've been a key decision maker, making dreams come true, and making nightmares real too for others. Its a pretty delusional take that I'm seen as a valuable number, and that's what I need to be, the number to make moves possible, while also having the agency to play my cards right in the middle.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I WON FOUR TICKETS IN THE AWARD CHALLENGE!!!!! I wasn't expecting that at all and I'm so delighted. AND THEN it turned out you needed 11 tickets to make it to merge and be immune from the last premiere vote and I had 15!!!! because of winning that and because of benj giving me four tickets when he was voted out. AND NOW IM FINALLY WITH JINX AND CAPTAIN AND JUDE AND AHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY AHHHHHHHHHHH ME AND JINX WERE JUST SCREAMING RIGHT AWAY AND I KNOW JINX AND CHRIS HAVE AN IDOL BETWEEN THEM COS THEY EACH FOUND HALF WOOOOOOO I FINALLY GET TO PLAY WITH THEM I CAN'T TELL YOU ENOUGH HOW HAPPY THIS MAKES ME. but then I was chosen to go to the outhouse so I didn't get to talk for long and still haven't gotten to talk to captain properly or Jude so :(( and I found nothing in the outhouse but this isn't a complete loss. if captain didn't look there then I know Ricky has something and I can use this info and if captain did find whatever is in there then WOOO!!! and also I can potentially use the fear of me having something if I must and that opens up many fun opportunities. nevertheless this experience in the outhouse has given me knowledge and in survivor knowledge is a currency, and I'm gonna buy as much as I can with it. I DO REALLY HOPE I GET A CHANCE TO FAKE SOME KIND OF ADVANTAGE THO THAT WOULD BE SO FUN AND I DEFS HAVE THE MEANS TO DO IT ASHJASHJASHJ but I need a reason to you know asjhashjashjashj any who that's all I have to share for today but I MADE MERGE IN MY FIRST SURVIVOR GAME I CAN'T BELIEVE IT I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD MAKE IT I'M SHOCKED AHHHHHHHH now I get to play with people I love and meet new people and YEEEEE happy dance, I've exceeded my expectations so I'm just happy here on out. I hope I can do some fun things and game planning with jinx, captain and Chris now plssss

I can't believe I was literally half a point away from the ticket requirement. If I had just been a tiny bit higher, I would've made immunity and had the tickets to be safe. It's kinda on me though, I forgot the "pop culture" part of the post and only verified that when it was literally the last day of the challenge (one where I had work no less, so it's a miracle I was even able to submit). But anyway, the vote isnt gonna be the end of the world. The post-swap Tua tribe is sticking together, and we seem to be getting Ricky on our side for an easy Blake vote. First thing that was suggested to me so I'm totally okay with doing that because it's just easy. I just hope that if the other side looks anywhere its not at me

This game literally feels like a Jane Elliott experiment half the time, and it does kinda bother me, maybe I'm just so used to my privilege that its about time it gets switched up on me

https://youtu.be/kmd-HiEeofg

https://photos.app.goo.gl/j8YwvF9eCukGiMQx5

Guys, gals, non binary pals, I think I have done it. Merge, no votes cast against me, being a crucial piece to how plans come together. God, that was the easiest premerge of my life.

---

Friend of mine wanted to know about Tumblr Survivor. So we’re talking and she asks me what the hardest situation you’ve been in is and I said “ You’ve clearly never been in a 6 person group with you running a 3-3 split and you need a flip to basically guarantee your merge/jury spot

And you basically have all your friends breathing down your neck if you don't execute the right person, it's like cutting the wrong wire in a bomb scenario”

I think I made bonds very quickly and will just narrowly avoid getting voted out. However, Blake seems to be getting the votes which I do not want to do. But I fear that if I push Ricky to Joey and the Lily's then they will just vote for me. Ugh. This sucks. If I vote with Blake, then the best we could do is tie. However, that puts me in a rough spot at merge because I would have 3 people mad at me. This is a really tough vote to be a part of. I probably won't even know who I am voting for until the last minute. 

https://youtu.be/ewiPRjyvOzk

https://youtu.be/-iPG5SyOCOk blake this is your tape ITS NOT MEAN

[eris0330]

♡ Hey, do you love me? ♡

Pairing: NamjoonxReader

Genre: Angst, fluff and smut.

Sum: Being a manager for Got7 and keeping up the relationship with Namjoon from BTS, everything went smoothly. The understanding of cutting a line between work and feelings, was never a problem. Heck, people would say you had the most perfect relationship, in the industry. But what happens, when both groups drop a comeback? Tour? Secrets? New things? Will you continue the same relationship, or will it all die out?

Word count: 2.8k

>>Part 2 

A/N: Thank you, @sunwasrising​ for giving me this idea. Asking for an angst story, I’ll take good care of you ;) Also, this story is during YNWA era.

“Hey, do you love me?” You asked the purple-haired man, with his dimples smiling down. His fingers playing with the tip of your hair, while the warmth between your intertwined legs felt safe. The nakedness under the sheets, were like being exposed from your secrets, if you even had any. Skin against skin, you felt the hairs on his legs tickle.

“Of course, I do Princess” His deep morning voice, soothing your eardrums. Planting a sly kiss on his plump lips, receiving the same love.

“I always will, in any shape or form” He continued to speak, in between your shower of love. You giggled, before pushing yourself away, to see his big brown Bambi eyes.

“Dating for 2 years, and you still say odd things” You smiled, making his eyebrows raise upon infinity.

“You know, if it wasn’t for my ‘odd things to say’, we wouldn’t have formed a relationship” He chuckled, placing soft kisses upon your bare neck. Your silver necklace, glistering at the sunlight peeking through the curtains.

“You’re right” You hummed, feeling pleasures of chills run down your spine at his touch. His big hand squeezing your bum, while thinking about the way everything came down to this. Being the manager for Got7, you felt there wasn’t any need of relationships, because work, was your type of love. The way it kept you busy, making them successful with every need of hitting a milestone. Until, doing a music show, you bumped into Namjoon by mistake. His blonde hair and shaved sides, with his significant dimples. The deep voice, of ‘My bad’ as he held you by your arms. It was almost love at first sight, struck by his handsome face. But, you knew better. Or so you thought. After the encounter with Namjoon, you never saw him again, until Jackson brought up the exposure of their friendship. The times they met each other, resulted in you, seeing him more. His looks and smile, speaking of his dream and beyond the universe, always fascinated you. Despite almost being the same age, he was rather mature and sure of his future. That’s when you realised, he spent more time with you than Jackson. Before either of you knew, love came in between like a tiger on the hunt.

“I have to go soon… The boys are waiting” You mumbled, feeling his hand travel along your inner thighs, resisting the urge to give in, for your desires.

“Just a bit longer…” He hummed in your ear, sending you to wonderland by his voice. Wiggling yourself out of his touch, embracing the spring breeze around your body.

“I have to get ready, you need to go soon too” You responded, already missing his hands’ adventure. Tucking himself into the sheets, he pouted at you. “When will you be home again?” He questioned, eyes following your movements of dressing yourself.

“It depends when the boys are finished with their schedule. Probably 9 or 10 pm, so don’t wait up..” You spoke, buttoning your white blouse. Brushing it lightly with your hands, to take away the crumbles.

“Ah… so long Y/N… You have been so busy lately” He responded, stretching out his own body, to finally leave the bed. His muscular toned body and tan, creeped further to you, with his hands again around your waist. “Last night was finally one of the nights, we could spend together. I want a round 2” he pleaded, letting his smirk appear in the mirror. His sentence sent heat to rise in your cheeks, tinting them lightly pink.

“Y-You have to wait” You stuttered of his blunt words, knowing what it did to your mind.

“I’ll wait as long, as it takes, to have you in my arms again.” He whispered, making butterflies grow in your stomach. “And under me, moaning my name” He finally cooed, turning you around to slap him on his bare chest. His laughter that always made your day brighter, while pushing his grip around you off.

“I really have to go, cheeky pervert” You giggled, planting the final kiss on his lips. “I love you” You spoke, rushing out of the door, leaving his form the only thing alive in the room. “I love you too” He mumbled, before getting ready himself.

“Did Namjoon stay at your place again?” A familiar voice, interrupting your scribbling on your notes. His blonde hair blocking the tip of his eyes, and sheepish smile. You looked up to see the man, eyebrows wiggling suggestively at something. Furrowing your brows, you were unsure what this was for.

“How did you know?”

His hands pointed towards his neck, before nodding. Once again, your eyebrows furrowed, letting your own hand slide against your neck. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, before his smile grew once more. His finger continuously poking at his neck, while jiggling his shoulders. Jackson was an odd man.

“Just tell me what is going on, I can’t understand your odd language” You finally spoke, getting his mouth to gap lightly.

“You have a mark of love, planted on your neck” Jinyoung finally spoke from the couch, making Jackson laugh loudly, gathering the other’s attention.

“You should be careful, or people might think something is going on” Jaebum spoke, as you blushed furiously while covering your neck with your hand. Nodding without an answer, the boys chuckled of your reaction.

“Are you spending time, before they go on tour?” Yugyeom questioned, while your heated cheeks cooled down once again. Realising, BTS were going on their Wings tour soon. Once again, a time to be alone, missing Namjoon like Romeo and Juliet. It never crossed your mind, that he would be going so soon. It was too soon.

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N has been doing fine while they went on tour.” Youngjae added, while tapping on his phone as Jackson teased him obnoxiously.  

“Yeah, Y/N and Namjoon are famous around idols. They are like the perfect couple” Jackson chimed, getting slapped by Youngjae. “We aren’t famous, we just know how to draw a line between work and feelings” You responded, putting your notes away to focus on the conversation.

“Have you ever been jealous Y/N?” Yugyeom asked from afar, getting closer by rolling his chair. The boys’ attention was pointed at you, making it slightly uncomfortable. “I haven’t.” You bluntly answered, rethinking. It wasn’t that you haven’t been jealous, it just never went to the point, you would let anyone know. It was a feeling of hatred and greed, mixed into one. You hated other people being jealous, and hoped you would never come to that.

“2 years together, and never been jealous. I’m impressed, maybe you will get married one day” Bambam cooed, getting his makeup put on. While the thought of you in a pretty white dress and a handsome groom waiting down the aisle, didn’t sound bad.

“Have you and other managers planned where to go on tour?” Mark questioned, while getting his hair done. Shrugging your shoulders lightly, you pursed your lips into a thin line. “We don’t know yet. Booking places around the US is quite hard, but we hope to start in Korea and then around Asia, moving further to the US, maybe EU? And back again, for a final stage.” You answered confidently. The boy’s lips raised into a smile, hearing the possibility of going to the US. His family always waits and purchases tickets, to see their boy on stage.

12:54 Namjoon: Don’t know if I will be home before 10 pm, but I hope I will. Read 16:01

15:59 Namjoon: Do we have any leftovers in the fridge, or else I need to order food haha Read 16:01

16:03 Y/N: We don’t have any leftovers TT-TT Read 18:40

18:43 Namjoon: Should I order extra? Read 18:46

18:47 Y/N: Mark is treating tonight, so no need. I won’t be able to be home, before 10-11 pm Read 18:48

18:53 Namjoon: I’ll be waiting, love Read 18:56

11:54 Jimin: Do you know when you’ll be around the US for their Tour yet? Read 11:55

11:56 Y/N: Not yet, and I’m hoping it’s the same time as wings Tour. Read 12:01

12:06 Jimin: Do you think he will be surprised? I think Taehyung knows what is up…He can’t keep secrets… Read 12:08

12:13 Y/N: I don’t know if he will TT-TT I have never gotten there to surprise him, when he is in his working stage. Maybe he will already know, when GOT7 announces their tour dates? Read 12:14

12:16 Jimin: Perhabs… I think he will love it, if you came with us. He’s always so stressed, but whenever he has stayed a night at your place, he is like a new born baby Read 12:17

12:19 Y/N: Gross, considered the reason. Read 12:21

12:22 Jimin: EEEEeeeeeWWWW Read 12:24

19:22 Namjoon: She’s eating with the boys tonight Read 19:25

19:26 Hoseok: It’s just GOT7 right? Read 19:27

19:29 Namjoon: She didn’t specify, but I hope so. Read: 19:31

19:33 Hoseok: Don’t let it bug you that easy. It’s just a co-worker Read 19:36

19:38 Namjoon: How can I not? That suit-guy has already hit on her once, lord knows he will do it again?? I know Y/N would never cheat on me, but she is very blunt and kind. That guy can play her like a violin Read 19:43

19:45 Hoseok: You have been together for 2 years already. You should trust her, like she trusts you. Read 19:54

19:59 Namjoon: I do trust her, but I don’t trust the suit-guy. I can’t do anything, if she needs me while I’m on tour?? Read 20:06

20:09 Hoseok: I think I know, what’s going on. You’re usually like this, when we’re going on tour, but nothing has ever happened while we were gone. Y/N is going to do fine and besides, the boys are there anyways. I think she can handle a flirtatious guy alone Read 20:15

20:18 Namjoon: I love her, that’s why Unread

Clacking your keys against the door, you hoped Namjoon wouldn’t wake up. You know how sensitive he was to sound and light, when he was sleeping, being easy to wake up by the simplest wimp. Locking the door behind, you sneaked inside while undressing yourself. A familiar sound of snoring abrupted from your bedroom, making you smile.

Pushing the bedroom door open, you were met with a sleeping bear. His bare chest exposed, while the sheets surpassed his legs. The lining of his legs and bed sheets, indicated he was sleeping in the nude. Passing down your panties, you creeped inside the sheets to feel his warmth. Snuggling up against the crook of his neck, his arms started brushing your cold body. The snores stopping, making you look up. Lights from the moonlight, lit up his lust that dazzles from the orbs.

“You smell like hair dye, another comeback?” He mumbled, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Yeah…” You responded slyly, trying to fall asleep with him.

“How was dinner?” He asked, feeling his hand place on your hip. His thumb brushing lightly, waking himself up. “It was great, the boys eat like animals. How was yours?” You chuckled, planting a kiss on his lips, to receive a smile.

“It was okay, but I prefer your cooking. Was the suit-guy there?” He asked bluntly, making your brows furrow. “You mean Youngguk? He was there, but he left early” You responded, feeling a grip harden around your waist. A push, rolling you onto your back while legs spread your own.

“Did he do anything?” He continued to ask, hovering above letting his hands lock on either side of your head. “No… We just ate. Why do you ask?” You questioned, putting your hands on his chest. Namjoon’s heart beat raced, unsure if he was angry or tempted.

“Did he touch you?” His face coming close, while the air of his breath hit your cheek. Lips brushing against yours, letting his tongue slip inside. Tasting you, eagerly. “No…” You answered again, feeling a heat form in your core.

“Did he talk to you?” Namjoon asked, letting his finger slide down your collarbones and further down to brush you hardened nipples. Cupping your breast, he moved to lick your nipple, sending waves of warmth through your body.

“Yes…” You moaned, biting your lip, arching your back wanting more. “I don’t like him” He stated, biting harder around your nipple, making you grab his hair out of pleasure. Arching your back for another sensation, his hand stroked your ribs down to your thighs, gripping them tightly. His fingers travelling further above your heat, feeling the vibrations of his groans against your skin.

“Can he make you this wet?” He asked, letting a finger slide down your slit. His finger sticking to your heat, making your body shiver. “No…” You answered again, feeling another finger added. Playing with the outside of your folds, while he planted kisses around your neck and jawline. His thumb playing with the sensitive nub, rolling it to make you moan louder into the bedroom.

“Then who can?” He questioned, letting a finger slide inside. Pumping it slowly, you felt the wet heat stain the sheets. His lips attacking your own, biting lightly at the bottom. His eyes shining with lust, letting groans escape the back of throat. His throbbing member poking against your leg.

“You…” You moaned, gripping his arm. Another finger was added, pumping harder and curling them. Hitting the right spot, to make you scream louder. Raising your hip for more, you saw his smirk across the darkness.

“Say the name, Baby” He ordered, pumping his fingers faster, almost making you lose your voice. Your heart racing and mind clouded, you felt his thumb again on your nub. His other hand taking care of his member, pumping it before lining it against your wet heat. You moaned, louder and heavier, begging for him to fill you. His fingers disappearing, letting you get some air while he let the tip slide in. His arms locked beside each side of your head, locking eyes together.

“I said, say the name” He repeated, making you bite onto your lower lip, examining his face. His bottom lip always dropped lower, when he was in this state of dominance. “Namjoon.” You finally spoke, making him smile before he planted a long kiss.

His member sliding inside, to make you gasp of the sensation. The way it always felt like he was too big to fit, but managed to let you adjust to his size. A loud groan escaped his lips, keeping his hips still. He would never hurt you. Planting another kiss, you nodded to signal you were ready. His face snuggled against the crook of your neck, rocking his hips slowly. Your hands found way around his ribs. Moans collided, feeling him rock faster, harder and aggressive. The sound of skin clashing together, filling the room to beyond. Your nails dug into the skin of his back, feeling your walls come close. Grunting and moving faster, he dug up from the crook of your neck, to see your face.

“Say it again…” He ordered in between thrusts, knowing he was close to reach his climax. “Namjoon...” You moaned, gritting your teeth and toes curling.

“Again, who can make you this wet baby?” He spoke with heavy breaths, letting his thrust last shorter and faster. “Only Namjoon can make me this wet” You screamed into the air, feeling your walls close around his member. The electricity of pleasure rushing inside your body, reaching Nirvana. His hips continuing to thrust, helping you ride out your high. A white light blocking on the inside of your eye lid, while you heard his loud groan echo.

“That’s right baby” His seeds shot inside you, feeling him fill you up. The warmth and panting mess, in the bed. Crashing upon you, his sweaty chest was sticking against yours. Your heart racing in sync, letting your hand run through his purple hair. His heavy breaths hitting your ear like a lullaby, before he moved to lay beside you. Curling into his chest, he planted another kiss on your forehead.

“There you got your round 2” You mumbled, before drifting to sleep.

20:18 Namjoon: I love her, that’s why Read 00:13

00:16 Hoseok: I know you do, but don’t let it affect your relationship. It might turn worse than better. Unread

[evilpjm]

Crazy | J.H | [A]

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 20,069

Warnings: mention of death, blood((gore?)), reference to sexual assault, foul language

A/N: Finally, it’s here. Technically my VERY first writing piece for tumblr. Be gentle :) This took months of re reading before I got the confidence to post it. I hope someone out there enjoys.

Description: Hoseok is reunited with his ex-girlfriend through a murder case.

My pen fell against the table, breaking the silence barrier between us. The metal chair creaked below him as his body lurched forward to look into my eyes. His parted lips curled up into a smile. It was worrying; holding unspoken threats and malice.

“Tell me, do you think I’m crazy?”

The pungent smell hit my nose as soon as I stepped under the yellow line; snapping my gloves into place as I pulled my mask over my nose. Crouching down, I let my eyes wander over the body that lay across the carpeted flooring now drenched a deep shade of red. Squinting my eyes, I leaned over to examine the damage, but with the amount of blood that had escaped it was nearly impossible to see the stab wounds.

Whoever had committed the crime surely wanted them to suffer; dragging the blade across every limb before impaling the stomach 3, no, 4 times before ending with the good ol’ throat slit. It was messy, painful, and one of the worst ways to go. The death came quick but not quick enough for the victim.

The room was echoing with the faint sound of sirens outside and the chatter of those in the other room attempting to decipher the whereabouts of the killer before too much time passed. It didn’t take long for an individual to escape and a case to be stamped “cold” before being shoved in the bottom of a filing cabinet.

That was the thing about getting into a field of crime. Those stories you looked up to on how hard authorities worked were pretty much a lie, at least for my department. I’ve known what I wanted to do with my life since I was a child watching old detective movies with my father, but little did I know this is what is was all about; ten times less exciting and 50 times more frustrating. I’m always one for a good challenge, but this type of frustration consisted of no one wanting to do their job and leaving me to pick up the loose ends.

“Status on culprit?” I spoke, pushing off my knees to move back into a standing position, grabbing out the notepad from my jacket pocket. The pen clicked in sync with the shuttering cameras that captured the lifeless figure on the floor.

“Clean escape for the most part. Neighbors claimed to hear screaming last night around midnight, and there’s a report of authorities being called due to previous domestic dispute cases with an ex. No charges were ever filed.”

I gripped the paper in my hand, scribbling down the tiny bit of information that was given, hoping it could mix to give me a lead somewhere. I had already been looking into the background of the ex, Jeon Jungkook, a Uni student who had a record of slight abuse when drinking. The victim was a 22 year old waitress with a history of substance abuse herself and she was arrested under the possession of cocaine a year prior. Jeon had supposedly split with her after paying for the bail, she was supposed to pay back but things got messy and the two parted ways after an argument. The hospital visit was set in records, internal bleeding and a broken rib being the case for that specific fight; however he got away with a clean slate.  

“The neighbors never called in the screaming?” I questioned, glancing up at the officer in front of me who stood with a slight hunch, the wrinkles protruding around his eyes as he ran a hand over his forehead, the stress of the job clearly lying in on his features.

“They are in questioning down at the station right now, seeing as they were the ones to call in the previous mishaps. It’s unknown right now why they didn’t call this in, but I can only assume they thought it was another silly fight between the two.” His gruff voice was quite the contrast compared to my small frail one, one of the many reasons I was never taken seriously in my field.

“Send me the audio tape when questioning is concluded. Have you run the prints on the murder weapon?” I spoke, crossing out a few things on my notepad as I shifted on my feet, trying not to become lightheaded from the constant smell of blood traveling through my nostrils.

“Fingerprints were sent to be examined first thing. Two matches have been identified.”

“Wonderful, what are the names?” I questioned, flipping over the page to create another cross section.

“Min Yoongi, former co-worker and family friend.” I scribbled the name down quickly, remaining silent as I waited for the other name to fall from his lips. I began writing ‘Jeon Jungkook’ only assuming he would be a possible suspect for obvious reasons.

“-And Jung Hoseok, no related connections between the two.”

My hand stiffened, letting the ink bleed through the page with the amount of pressure I was installing. Jung Hoseok? As in, my Jung Hoseok? It couldn’t be. Not the man who I devoted 2 years of my life to, truly believing he was the one I would marry one day. We had broken it off a year prior due to his growing distance, but he remained the sweetest person I had the honor of knowing. This had to be someone else.

“We have Jung at the station waiting to be questioned; however he refuses to talk to anyone but you.” A hoarse chuckle filled the small space between us, his amusement clear.

All doubts were wiped clear from my mind with one sentence. This was definitely the same Hoseok. But I knew he was incapable of murder. I was the one who had to kill the spiders in our relationship for crying out loud. I knew he had to be framed, and in that instance I made it my objective to prove his innocence.

Opening the large yellow envelope, I grasped the few papers that slipped out, placing them onto my desk with a small clack sounding with the force of the paperclips. The pictures now lay across my view, all showing the wounds I had witnessed in person a mere hours before. The murder weapon was tagged and photographed lying next to the woman’s head, just a smaller carving knife; however it was sharpened with ridges to tear up human flesh more vigorously. The murderer clearly had the intent to cause some suffering before ending the life.

“Evening, detective.” My gaze shifted upwards only to catch onto the stare of my partner, Park Jimin. The annoying man-child officer I was assigned to work with for the time being until he was transferred to another department. He was still new to the field; freshly graduated and ready to be thrown into the mess. He was here to watch over me for a few weeks, maybe even months until they figured out a place to stick him and put him to work at.

I simply let out a low grumble of acknowledgment, breaking away our eye contact to finger through the photos, shoving them aside as I read through the reports. Time of death was stated at 12:14 am, only 6 minutes after the neighbors reported hearing screaming; even if they had called the police, who knows if they would have gotten here in time. Despite the station being a few blocks away, I knew the habits of the men working here and they clearly liked to move slowly.

I could hear Jimin plopping into the chair across from me before the sound of his loud boots clanked onto my desk, making me scrunch my nose.

“So, how about lunch?” His smug voice irked me. I wanted nothing more than to shove his legs off my desk and kick him out of the room.

“M’not hungry.” I mumbled, flipping the page over to read the description of Min Yoongi. He seemed like a fairly decent guy; no criminal record, not even a single speeding ticket like everyone else seemed to gather these days, including myself. It seemed unlikely he would cause any harm to the poor girl, especially since they were co-workers and family friends, but on the other hand I knew Hoseok was incapable of murder; especially something this . . . brutal.

“Come on, you denied me yesterday too. You’ve got to eat eventually.” I shut my eyes for a brief moment, sucking in a deep breath before I climbed over and shook him by the shoulders. It’s not my fault that I despise him so much, he brought it on. From the moment we were partnered he teased my appearance claiming he wanted to be with someone who could actually take someone down. Well, that changed as soon as I had him pinned to the floor with both hands twisted behind his lower back. Still, he would mock and tease, flirt, poke, prod, scream anything to annoy the hell out of me and I’d had enough.

“We’ve got work to do, Park. Go grab something from the vending machine.” I snapped, grabbing my notepad from out of my pocket once more to place beside my keyboard. I flipped through the 4 pages I previously scribbled down on, crossing out false leads and adding simple details that would be to my use later on.

Hoseok remained at the station briefly in a cell waiting for his questioning to come, however I wasn’t ready to face him just yet. Rather it be my lack of knowledge on the case or the stupid butterflies that remained when I heard his name, I couldn’t bring myself to drive to the station just yet. I had to speak with this Min Yoongi kid; he was still at his work I presumed. Unaware of why he wasn’t brought in, I questioned the lead detective of the case but he brushed off my questions and argued it as an invasion of privacy. Working in this field sexism remains but for the most part is lacking. He was an exception however; never wanting to help me in anything unless I suddenly dropped my voice a few octaves and grew a dick. Nonetheless I assume my balls are bigger than his will ever be.

“The vending machine is full of moldy sandwiches and broken candy bars. I’d rather not.” He huffed out, dropping his boots back to the ground with a thud before standing in front of me once more, leaning his hands down on the desk. Without asking permission, the paper that remained in my hand was plucked away and placed in front of his eyes to view. Muttering an insult under my breath, I stood up to gather the rest of the information back into the envelope before grabbing my last sheet back from him.

“C’mon. I need to go find this Yoongi person. We can pick up lunch on the way, but you’re paying.” Slipping the envelope under my arm, I snatched the well-worn jacket off the back of my chair and swung it across my shoulders.

“Ooo, is this a date, detective?” Jimin cooed, biting his bottom lip with a teasing grin. I shot a glare his way, pushing his shoulders forward and forcing him out of the small room. I had the awful urge to slap the look off his face, or to simply lead him into a closet and slam it shut, but he was still my partner and I had to keep the mutual respect alive; or at least as much of a small amount I could muster.

I flicked the light switch down, letting the darkness spread across the walls from the lack of windows. I took the key from my pocket and locked the door upon closing it, not trusting any of the others who worked here. Everyone was always snooping around to invade others privacy and jump into cases in hopes to raise their chances of a bonus.

I followed Jimin out the front door, moving swiftly down the front steps and towards my vehicle parked out front. I unlocked my own door, slipping inside and slamming it shut as I started it up, sighing at the familiar rumbling sound. I heard loud smacks against the outside of the passenger window making me groan.

You can do this, you can do this.

I reassured myself, taking a moment to breathe before unlocking his side, allowing Jimin to step in happily, and ramble about something I didn’t bother to pay attention to. I zoned him out any chance I got which is probably a habit I should break, but he never protests, simple keeps talking to himself.

“So, who is this Hoseok?”

Well that surely caught my attention. Snapping my head over to his direction, I saw his innocent expression and small smile he always seemed to carry around.

“Why are you asking?” I spoke, voice wavering a bit making his eyebrows shoot up in amusement. I always held a strict authoritive tone around him and of course this was a weak spot.

“Oh, so the rumors are right?” He chuckled, leaning back into the leather seat as he threw his arm across the rest.

I chewed on my bottom lip and watched the road with caution as I drove towards the city Yoongi lived in. I should’ve known rumors would fly, but what about exactly? It was no secret I had dated Hoseok seeing as he even visited me at work numerous times to drop off dinner he’d made for us on the day shifts that turned to overnighters, or to pop a coffee in my hands for my early morning investigations. My own boss became accustomed to his presence and the two got along quite well; he even tried recruiting Hoseok for the force but he refused, claiming he was too squeamish to deal with crime.

“Do I want to know these rumors?” I muttered after a moment of silence. I flicked the directional on, letting the sound play over in my head as I waited for his response. It was nothing I hadn’t already presumed.

“Your ex is a murderer!” He laughed out loud. He actually had the audacity to laugh aloud at it. “I figured you were into bad boys, but this seems a bit over the top, don’t you think?” He questioned with a snicker.

“Enough.” I shut up his words, gripping the steering wheel to the point of my knuckles turning white. “He’s innocent.”

His snicker turned to silence and I felt his stare on me but I chose to ignore it while I kept my focus on making it to our destination. I know he didn’t believe me, but I was certain with this. He doesn’t know Hoseok; no one knows him like I do.

I could still remember the sweet words he would whisper into my ear each night as I fell asleep. I was always the weak one despite acting the toughest. Coming home from certain cases I would collapse into the couch with tears favoring whatever victim I dealt with that specific day. The gory images always flashed behind my eyelids every time I shut them resulting in no sleep time. Hobi would grab me in his arms and pull my head to rest over his chest, whispering soothing words into my ears as I dozed off to his heartbeat thumping against my cheek. I loved waking up to his angelic features, drool parting from his chapped lips and nose crinkling whenever his shirt would rise from my movements beside him. He was perfectly imperfect and I loved every inch, freckle, speck, and scar that traced his skin. Every misplaced hair, fallen eyelash, chipped nail and ripped t-shirt he threw on. He was the missing piece to me and he offered the best two years of my life.

“Excuse me for pestering, but why are you so sure he’s innocent? You haven’t even looked into this case yet with his part.” Jimin spoke slowly, as if afraid to hit a nerve within me. Sure, I was unaware of his side. I didn’t know how his prints got onto the murder weapon, but his prints weren’t the only ones either. It had to be a misunderstanding. Hoseok was either framed or simply exchanged contact with Yoongi who killed the poor girl. Besides, Yoongi and she knew one another. Hoseok probably has never even heard of the girls’ name.

“I know him better than anyone else.” I replied shortly, pulling into the parking lot of the old rickety diner. The signed flashed with the exception of a few blown out letters. The outside was slightly falling apart and only two cars were parked outside.

“Are you sure about that?” I turned off the car, facing forwards as my body stiffened in place.

“Of course I’m sure.” I snapped, making him recline further into the seat. I could tell he was a sensitive guy; not fond of being yelled at or insulted in any way. Beats me why he chose such a brutal work field, but I didn’t feel any remorse. I was giving him a taste of the real world.

Opening my door, I got out and steadied myself on the cracked pavement, kicking an old pebble out of my path as I shut and locked the door, moving around to the entrance of the diner as I heard Jimin scramble behind me. His cuffs clinked against his tool belt making me roll my eyes, “Secure your restraints.” I simply spoke as I pushed open the door, an intense smell flooding into my nose. I was used to being hit with different smells on the job and for once I could smell fresh meat that wasn’t rotting human flesh but rather a sweet juicy burger. The comparison stopped my hunger either way as my insides turned.

“Hello! Table for two?” A sweet voice pulled me from my thoughts as I did a double take of the girl standing in front of me. Her dark hair rested in a bun on the top of her head, a few frizzy pieces flying around which I assumed was from the constant back and forth with the kitchen and customers. Her wide smile made her stand out from this rusty run down place full of greasy old men and a stale coffee smell.

“Yes please.” I spoke in a monotone voice, clutching my notepad from within my pocket. Jimin leaned into my side, obviously confused as to why I was grabbing a seat for us both.

“Aren’t we here for the kid?”

“You said you were buying me lunch.” I remarked making him sputter out incoherent words. I followed behind the waitress who I could label as Rina from her worn out nametag resting beside the unbuttoned maroon and yellow work blouse. She handed Jimin and I a menu, and I flipped through with a face of slight disgust, making the boy in front of me giggle once more. I had no intent of purchasing any of this . . . food. Jimin on the other hand was licking his lips while reading over the different options he could ram down his throat. I didn’t want to stroll into this place right away demanding for the criminal, even though it was the right thing to do. What harm was he going to do with a detective and police officer sitting inside his building? Chop up the chef and add him into the food? That only brought back my first thought of rotting flesh which once again brought the swirling nausea. With one call I could have the place surrounded and him being rolled off in the back of a police car; but I liked to take a simpler approach to things. A calm chat would lead to a willing criminal to sit in the back of my regular (yet child proofed) car.

I placed the menu on the table and clinked my nails against the marble knockoff print. Upon looking around, this didn’t seem like a diner that would hold a criminal. Food poisoning? Yes. Murderous criminal? Nah.

The innocent seeming waitress made her way back to us with a little pep in her step that caused me to flicker a small smile. How one managed to hold joy in a place like this was someone strong enough that I’d get along with.

“What can I get you sweeties?” She asked, opening up a notepad quite similar to mine, but her handwritten code decided whether someone wanted tomato and onion while mine decided which murder weapon would result in the blood splatter against the wall. Charming.

“I’ll have the American style cheeseburger; extra fries please.” The boy was way too enthusiastic which just showed how hungry he truly was. How could he eat this filth?

“And for you?”

“Water please.” I mumbled as she scurried off through the swinging doors behind Jimin. I caught a peak of two figures in the kitchen; one seemed to be an older man but the other was young sporting some badly bleached hair. That had to be Yoongi.

“So why are we just sitting here? If I knew we were actually grabbing lunch I could have recommended some place much better.” He teased, shimmying in his seat to get comfortable. The red cushion was cracked, showing the yellow foam inside that didn’t offer much comfort to begin with.

“You said you were hungry. I’m killing two birds with one stone. Feeding you so you shut the hell up and grabbing the culprit on the way out.” I grabbed out my notepad and badge, placing both on the table to relieve the constant pain they gave poking into my hip. My hand reached out to grasp the water that was placed in front of me silently before Rina retreated back to the room again. I could see her gaze flicker on me for a split second as she pushed into the doors and only a moment later did I hear the softened yelling from inside. Wonderful. Perhaps I don’t have to call out the boy myself seeing as I’m sure he was just made aware of my presence.

Jimin started up some small talk as he usually did, but thankfully I didn’t have to endure much of it as we were the only ones in this place to have ordered anything at least recently. The two old men across the diner sat sipping from glasses with empty dishes surrounding them.

Rina shakily placed the plate in front of Jimin and I noticed his frame straighten up excitedly at the sight of food. However, my eyes remained on the poor girl who now refused to make any eye contact with either of us. What a difference from her happy state as we walked in. She scurried away and Jimin dug into the meal.

I watched the grease drip from the burger onto his plate that pooled around the now soggy fries, making me want to gag. Swirling the straw around in my water, I took a sip and eyed the door knowing that at any moment the kid would be walking out. As if right on cue, I saw the familiar bleached blond ends and dark roots making their way over to me with long strides. He wiped his hand on the white apron wrapped around him, but who knows if you can call it white with all the food stains.

“Ah, Min Yoongi?” I questioned with a fake smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jimin furiously wiping at his mouth as he chewed down the gigantic bite as quickly as possible.

“Listen m’am. I’ve told the authorities over and over again that I sent in the child support. The god damn mother is lying about this all. I’ve been trying to arrange a court case for months.” He spoke with a low voice, the tiredness evident in his droopy eyelids.

“Whoa buddy, I’m not here to pity the child that must live in this world knowing it spawned from you. We’ve got bigger issues.” The scowl on his face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Where were you on the night of September 14?” I asked, clicking my pen and twirling it beneath my fingertips.

His face scrunched in confusion as his shoulders dropped lowly. “You mean last night?”

“Well I don’t mean next year.” I retorted, giving a bored expression. I just wanted simple answers to make this process easy. I had to ask routine things before I could just haul him off to the station. I needed at least a tiny bit of suspicion to have that excuse for Park to finally use his, hardly attached, metal cuffs.

“I was here working, as usual.” He scoffed, clearly trying to brush off my serious tone.

“At what time?”

“8 am to 11 pm. Every day. Haven’t you seen the hours on our god damn door?” He sassed, leaning onto the table behind him with crossed arms. I raised my eyebrows but still looked at my notepad, writing down his words.

“Where did you go after work?”

“I walked my girlfriend home.”

“Did you make any other stops?”

“Yeah I stopped by the bank to rob up some extra cash seeing as tips aren’t fulfilling my needs.” He snapped. I simply wrote it down.

“Yah! Don’t write that down, it was a damn joke.” He sputtered out, lurching forwards a bit.

“Ah, sorry Mr. Min. I don’t pick up on sarcasm quite easily.” I said as I crossed out the sentence I had scribbled at the bottom of the page.

“Does the name Lee Boo Rin ring any bells to you?” I asked, moving up to finally look at his face.

“Yeah. . . she used to work here.”  He said slowly. I looked into his eyes to try and find any signs of nervousness, but his stare was blank. He didn’t show much emotion so it was hard to read him.

“Why did she quit?”

“How am I supposed to know? She said she found a better job and just up and left.”

“Do you know what her new job was?”

He shifted to the left. Bingo. He was expressing nerves. Eyes shifting back and forth slowly and his breathing skipped a beat. It was very subtle but still something I could notice.

“Don’t think about lying to me Yoongi. I won’t hesitate to cuff you right here in front of your precious little girlfriend.” Looking over at the swinging doors for a second, I could see Rina shiver under my stare making me smirk internally. The power was dripping from me and I loved it.

The boy shuffled his feed and let out a small huff, “She made some money by spending late nights with . . . friends.”

“So she resulted to prostitution?” Wincing under my forwardness was all the confirmation I needed as I hummed and jotted down the information. Typical. Crack addict turned to selling her body just to shoot up.

“Do you have the names of the men she met with? Or even better the location?” I questioned, tapping my finger on my chin.

“I swear I don’t know the name but I do know one guy. She uh. She met him at the corner of Brickstone around 11:30 every Saturday night. That’s all I know.”

Jimin glanced at me in confusion as Yoongi spilled over easily. He portrayed himself as a tough guy but I could tell he was weak on the inside; much like me. He came undone easily just like a loose string that you tug at over and over until it suddenly unravels all at once.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You have been quite the help.” I hummed, shutting the notepad as I shoved it back into my giant coat pocket. Standing up from my seat, I flattened out my shirt and gave a reassuring forced smile. “Now, if you don’t mind I’ll be taking you to the station for questioning.” I said nonchalantly as I glanced at Jimin who sat still shoving the slightly cold fries into his mouth. My look told him all he needed to know and he was soon scrambling to his feet, mumbling something about his unfinished lunch to which I grabbed a styrofoam  box from behind my seat, throwing it into his hands.

“What do you mean? I told you all I know. I have no reason to go with you.” Yoongi said a bit angrily this time.

“That’s where your wrong kid. Your fingerprints were found on the murder weapon that killed your co-worker. At this time you are a possible culprit in this homicide. You will be contained in a cell and questioned until proven innocent or guilty.”

I didn’t think his skin could become any paler but as his face dropped so did the red flush from his cheeks; I thought he was going to be sick. Stuttering out a small “what” I simply grabbed his arm and began to lead him towards the front door. Jimin threw a few bills on the table, bowing to the waitress who awkwardly stood crying in the corner watching her boyfriend being tugged away.

Any second now I was going to burst. The room was eerily silent besides the constant ticking of the damn clock hanging on the wall. I wanted to rip it off the wall and stomp all over it; too much?

We brought Yoongi in and Jimin took over for me which I know Yoongi was thankful for. He didn’t care for my company but Jimin however was a pushover. I had walked back to my room, plopping down at my squeaky chair and throwing my head onto the desk with a groan. I needed to go to see Hoseok. I had to speak with him. I was incredibly nervous to face him seeing as the last time we spoke I was practically begging to get another chance with him.

He had shown signs of leaving for two months. He stayed out later at nights and came home only to go straight to bed saying dance tired him out; but he was never groggy or that drained. I would try and talk to him but his responses became less and less. He didn’t smile as much or crack as many jokes. A week before breaking it off he stopped holding me. I no longer fell asleep to his heartbeat in sync with mine but instead clutched the cold pillow to my chest and stared at the wall for hours on end while he shifted around in his sleep.

He broke it off on a Sunday afternoon. I got up around 11 and saw his figure still sprawled on his side of the bed; t-shirt rising slightly to show his smooth back. I wished I could nuzzle into his side and pepper soft kisses on his neck to wake him up but he only pushed me off with a groan those days so I never bothered. I made my way into the kitchen and cooked up his favorite breakfast while pouring a large mug of coffee, also prepared his ideal way. His loud footsteps traveled into the kitchen making me smile but it dropped when I saw a bag in his hand. I questioned him but he ignored me, placing it down with a loud sigh. He looked straight into my eyes to confess he had fallen out of love. When? I’m not sure. I don’t think he even knew. His chapped lips moved against one another but I zoned it all out with the tears springing to my eyes. The steam from his coffee mug rose into my pores; still burning my hand as I held it with a weaker grip. I was afraid it’d drop, so I placed it on the counter before falling against the marble myself. He let out a pitiful sigh after his short speech and went back to our room to gather the rest of his things. He only took what he needed and left the rest for me to cry over; clutching old sweaters into my arms to fall asleep for weeks to come. His necklace hung in the jewelry box on the dresser. Hat shoved into the back of the closet along with old dance shoes. Our pictures hung on the walls and his cologne sat on the shelf next to my perfume. He left that way without another word. Without grabbing the food to go or even acknowledging the warm drink. The door slammed shut and I tasted the coffee. Bitter.

I texted him numerous times asking to meet up and talk but I was always left on read. I assumed he found someone else, but he never showed signs of dating. I still had his social media pages open. He danced, he relaxed, and he lived on. He was fine without me and yet I remained a mess. Why is it that I’m a detective and I can’t trace back to the moment in time his heart stopped longing for mine? Why couldn’t I see the clues? His murder weapon was his words that shot through my chest like a handgun. Or that killer smile. He was a murderer of emotions but that still didn’t prove his guilt for this specific case.

I realized my mind was traveling too far into the past so I walked into the hallway making a b-line for the bathroom. My shaky hands turned on the cold water, splashing some onto my face. This was no proactive commercial, it didn’t refresh me perfectly and cleanse my face alone; the water flew all over my shirt and the floor making me flinch.  I dried my hands onto my jeans and walked outside to come face to face with my boss.

“There you are! I’ve been waiting for you to come out of that damn room. We need to get this case moving so either you question the boy or I will force it out of him the hard way.” He growled. Rolling my eyes slowly to myself, I pushed past his side to head back towards my room.

“I’m heading over now sir; there is no need to force anything out of him.” I shoved my coat off and threw it to my chair before fixing my hair to frame my cheeks better. Why was I worried about my appearance?

Oh that’s right; you’re still hopelessly in love with your ex.

“The audio has been recorded and sent to you from the neighbor’s interrogation. Written form is placed into the folder waiting for you with all the information we have gathered on Jung Hoseok as well. I saw Seokjin bring in Min Yoongi. He will be next for questioning unless you prefer to do it yourself as well as Jung?”

I shook my head, twisting my ankle around in my loose boot. “Go ahead and question him. Send me the reports once more and when I feel the need to gather more information myself I will do so. Keep him in a separate cell from Jung right now.”

It was finally time to face him; there’s no going back.

I could smell his cologne. He was suffocating me without even being in the same room. I stood outside the door for 5 maybe 10 minutes. 20 minutes tops. My head was throbbing and I placed my cold hand on the doorknob countless times but never found the strength to swing it open.

I was alone. Two men resided in the room opposite the mirrored wall that Hoseok had sight off. They would watch to make sure he didn’t make any sudden movements or threaten me in any way. But why would he? The nerves aren’t evident because I’m afraid of what he might have done, no. They are evident because I’m afraid of falling apart under his stare. He still holds my heart and I’ve never given it to anyone else. He is the only one to break down my hard shell.

With a huff, puff, and sigh, I grabbed the door and swung it open without hesitation this time. However, the idea wasn’t well thought through as the door swung open so hard it crashed into the wall and left a scratch mark. I saw his head snap up and those shocked eyes softened until he started to smile at my presence; unable to mask the small giggles that fell out from my clumsiness.

Clearing my throat, I softly shut the door and moved to sit across from him. The file sat to my right just where it was promised to be. I silently grabbed it, opening the first page as his eyes bore into my face making me heat up.

“Good evening, Hoseok.” I spoke in a professional tone as I cleared my throat and placed my finger on his file. Scanning over it, I was met with everything I pretty much already knew. His birthday, birth place, previous jobs and living arrangements. His late payments with insurance and the speeding ticket he received a few years back. Everything was placed out so well to explain every bit of him. Every bit that proved his innocence.

“Good evening.” He spoke, adding my name with a click of his tongue. The way my name sprawled off his lips made me bite my own before finally looking up to meet his eyes.

He was dressed in a silk blue button down shirt that resembled pjs, but I didn’t question it. He was plucked from his home and I assumed it was what his attire consisted of; he was always in pajamas every chance he got. His hair was different than the year before I saw him as my own. Instead of the luscious black locks I was now met with a beautiful orange cut that only seemed to complement him more. He stood out in contrast against the white walls of the interrogation room; already quite different than the black and grey rooms most were used to, what I was used to. But now the officials claimed to take a different approach and view white as purity. Make the victims come clean however they thought that would work. The color of the damn wall doesn’t inspire someone to magically confess to committing fraud or shooting a man.

I placed his papers aside and grabbed out my pen and notepad once more; the familiar leather bound stationary molding perfectly in my hand after all this time of use. I opened up to the page right after Min Yoongis and looked at the man across from me.

“Tell me, Hoseok, where were you last night?” I questioned as I searched for any signs of a lie. I knew his every movement. He would flicker his gaze to the left, fidget with his right hand, tug at his earlobe or cough into his arm whenever he got nervous. However, none of these signs showed as he spoke with ease.

“I was at the dance studio working with Jin hyung, you remember him don’t you? He’s trying to get more into dance so I’ve been staying later than usual to help out. You can call him to confirm, I have his number.”

“Mm, what is it? And how long were you there until? Where did you go after?”

He spoke the number slowly as I scribbled down the numbers, “I remained in the studio until 12:15ish where Jin then drove me home and I got into my apartment around 12:40.”

“And how are you in relation to Lee Boo Rin?” His eyes brows scrunched together in confusion and it only made my heart hurt more. He was clueless. Why was he even here?

“I’m sorry; the name doesn’t ring a bell.”

I sighed, twirling the pen in my fingers slightly. “Well Hoseok, Boo Rin was murdered last night inside her apartment. And your fingerprints were found to be a match on the murder weapon.” He nearly choked on his own spit, shifting in his seat to place his hands on the table.

“My . . . my god. That’s horrible.” His breathing quickened and I swear I saw tears nearly prick to the surface of his eyes. As long as I had known him, death was a sensitive topic. He has watched his own sister be murdered before his eyes at a young age. I assumed that had a big role as to why he was always so caring and harmless. Other than trapping himself in his own ‘joyful’ state, he also never wanted to inflict the pain he felt and he knew his sister felt, therefore making it his sole purpose to react to the world with a smile.

“She was murdered close to midnight last night. Your prints along with another’s were found to be a match on this knife.” I paused my sentence to grab out a photo from the vanilla file and sliding it in front of me. It was the photo of the weapon alone, still with a bit of blood on the spiked edges. Hoseok squirmed slightly in his seat and didn’t keep his stare on the photograph for too long. I placed it to the side of me as I grabbed out more pictures, keeping these to myself for now. I read over the extra pages that I hadn’t before and I felt my stomach drop at the paragraphs printed.

“Under examination signs show she was forced into sexual acts. Bruises were found atop both her wrists as well as her inner thighs. It’s evident the culprit forced themselves upon her briefly before the murder.” I gulped out trying to stay in a stern tone but I felt my throat wanting to crack on me. The idea of rape was something to always hit an extra nerve when it came to victims I dealt with. Reading the explicit details, which I spared Hoseok, I let out a shaky sigh. DNA examples were being sent in and it should help determine the true murderer.

I remained silent before shoving more photos before his eyes. Hoseok didn’t speak a single word but his actions spoke enough. He gagged at the more gore filled photos and began to glance at the trash can towards the corner of the room.

“P-Please. I don’t want to look at anymore.” He muttered, shutting his eyes to inhale deeply. Reluctantly, I gathered all glossy papers and shoved them under the file so neither of us has to witness any more than needed.

Crossing my fingers, I placed them on the table and looked at his face that was now facing his own lap. “Hobi, I know it wasn’t you.” I whispered so softly he almost didn’t hear me, which also meant the mics wouldn’t pick up on it beyond the wall behind Hoseok.

He slowly lifted his gaze into mine. “I promise you I will put an end to this. You will not be blamed. I’ll find out who framed you and why. They will rot behind bars and you can forget about all of this.” I mumbled, eyes glancing around as I cleared my throat and sat back up straight in order to look normal to the watching eyes.

“Whoever did this was beyond crazy. It’s sickening to think the poor girl had to suffer.” I said with a sigh as Hoseok took in my words and sat in silence for a minute or two more.

My pen fell against the table, breaking the silence barrier between us. The metal chair creaked below him as his body lurched forward to look into my eyes. His parted lips curled up into a smile. It was worrying; holding unspoken threats and malice.

“Tell me, do you think I’m crazy?”

For an unknown reason, I felt a chill crawl up my spine under his gaze. It seemed . . . different compared to the rest of the time I’d been in here with him.

“No.” I mumbled without hesitation. No, I didn’t find him crazy. He was my innocent Hoseok. That’s all he’d ever be.

“Kim Namjoon.”

I jumped, dropping my folder to the ground with a small yelp leaving my lips. I’d left the interrogation room and was on my way back down the long hall to my office when I heard his loud voice next to me.

“What the hell Jimin?” I gasped out, leaning down to pick up the spilled files.

“Kim Namjoon.” He repeated. “That’s the man Boo Rin was meeting up with each Saturday.”

Instead of scolding him for giving me a startle, I perked up at the mention of new information. “How did you find that out?” I asked with eyes widening.

He smirked, obviously feeling proud of himself. “I did some research and made some phone calls. Turns out Kim is a regular customer when it comes to some late night extravaganzas. He owns the music shop on the main road so the man makes good profits. Clearly he has enough to spend on women who won’t attach themselves emotionally. He paid good money each weekend to spend some time with her, however everything was met with consent and he has been on a business trip for this entire week. His flight comes in tomorrow morning so we can call out the idea of him causing this mess. However, he may be helpful.” Jimin spilled out in a normal tone compared to his usual playful one. I nodded, unable to stop my small smile.

“I’m impressed Park.” His eyes lit up at my compliment and it made him seem like a giddy child.

He accompanied my walk back to the office and this time I gave into his rambling. The kid was in too good of a mood for me to bring him down now.

I gathered my belongings for the end of the day and packed up my small room once again with the lock to finish it off. My eyes ached from the long day and at this point I was ready to fall into my bed and sleep soundly. Yet, I still had to tie up some loose ends before I could doze off.

I sent Jimin home, despite him trying to wait for me until I was finished. He reluctantly left with a playful sigh, getting in his own car and driving home until we would meet again the next morning. I knocked on my own boss’ door, tapping my foot as I waited for a response. With a small grumbled out remark I took it as a ‘come in’ and pushed open the door as his blinds shook.

“Good evening, sir.” I addressed with a bow as he ignored my words, eyes still lingering on the paper in his hand.

“I just wanted to know the status on Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok.”

“Both are contained in their cell.”

I paused. “Cell?”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem detective?”

“With all due respect sir, shouldn’t you have placed them in different cells? It’s one thing to room two culprits together, but ones from the same case? It doesn’t seem safe. They believe one another framed them practically. What if they start a fight?” My voice grew in worry as I rushed out my words but he remained unphased.

“We have a guard, you know that. If anything were to happen we would sort it out. The other cell is closed off. They found the sink to be detachable meaning if one of them would be smart enough, they could manage an escape through our damn crumbled walls. I’m not having another escape on my hands it took long enough to cover up the first one.” He said angrily as I thought back to a few years prior. This place wasn’t the best to say the least. Of course all stations made mistakes, but I believe we are in the running for worst there is. The only reason I remain here is because it’s where I’ve grown up. The thought of leaving the only life I’ve known is far too risky for someone like me.

Reluctantly I let the topic drop, knowing our best guard Seokjin was on duty. If anything were to start, he could just use those jumbo shoulders to knock one of them out cold. I nearly giggled at the thought, having to quickly clear my throat and bow once more as I mumbled a proper goodbye to my superior.

Making my way out of the building I managed to slip into my car and arrive at my apartment in record time. As soon as my head hit the pillow I felt the exhaustion taking over until I was sound asleep above the covers.

I chewed on the pen cap with furrowed eyebrows as I held the headphones up with one hand over my ears, listening intently to the interrogations I was not in attendance for. The neighbors seemed like sweet people but also incredibly clueless ones if that. They asked the same questions over and over, not comprehending a thing. They wouldn’t clearly state why they never called in previous cases or this one in particular. They gave brief sentences that would get them off the hook but still leave us scratching our heads.

Yoongi’s interrogation however was just an absolute shit show. The poor kid broke down into sobs halfway through and had to be escorted out to take a breather and receive a hug from Officer Kim Seokjin, that absolute softy. His ‘strong guy’ image was ruined quicker than I thought. It seemed he was under too much pressure, yet somehow hearing his words and attitude it wasn’t of guilt but just pure fear. Innocent fear. But he had to be playing an act, a good one at that.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as Jimin’s face appeared upside down in front of mine. I threw the headphones onto the desk and clutched my heart, heaving out a grumble of his name which he only giggled in response to before sitting on my desk to swing his legs.

“What the hell do you want Park?! Yah, I told you to stop sneaking up on me like that!” I pouted slightly, my heart still racing but slowly calming back down.

“You’re cute when you’re scared.” He teased, smiling wide as his legs continued swinging, scuffing the bottom of my desk. I slapped his thigh which made him stop for now.

“What do you want?” I repeated myself, grabbing the headphones and placing them inside my drawer as I stopped the recorders playback.

“I brought in that Kim Namjoon dude. He offered to tell us anything we needed to know about Boo Rin that he knows of himself. Nice dude. He bought me a coffee.”  He said happily.

“You hate coffee.” I replied in a bored tone.

“That’s why I ordered it the way you like it!” He boasted, passing over the cup that was held in his right hand. I raised an eyebrow but slowly took it from his hand anyways, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent.

“Mm, thank you Jimin.” I hummed in response, taking a small sip as it burnt my throat a bit.

“You called me Jimin!” He borderline squealed to which I rolled my eyes, mumbling another shut up Park but despite my harmful words he never stopped smiling. Typical.

I stood up, pushing in my chair as I walked towards the door, coffee in hand. “Let’s go speak with him.” I demanded, hearing him shuffle after me, those damn handcuffs still clacking loudly against his belt.

“Park, I told you to secure your restraints a million times.” I groaned out as he came up behind me in the doorway.

“Why detective? Don’t you want to see me put them to good use?” He mumbled in a deeper tone, making my eyes widen as I turned to look at him. Not expecting such a response, my cheeks lit pink and I scurried away, patting them gently as he cackled from behind, shutting my door and following along behind me to the interrogation room.

I sat down on the right, Jimin to my left as I mindlessly sipped the coffee still. The boy in front of me held an amused stare as he watched me hold the familiar coffee cup.

“Good Morning, Namjoon.” I greeted with a small smile. “I thank you for agreeing to come in for this. Any and all answers we receive are a great help.” I hummed, grabbing out the familiar notepad.

“Let’s start with the basics. How did you meet Boo Rin?” I questioned. Of course his cheeks flushed in embarrassment, just as any man probably would in this situation.

“I . . ahem. I heard a few men talking about the . . . services displayed at the corner of Brickstone while they shopped in my store one afternoon. I decided to check it out for myself seeing as I don’t want any strings attached. She was the first girl I saw at the corner. I approached her and she confirmed her . . . occupation.” His words were slow and came out almost like questions. I wrote down the information, knowing he was nervous he’d get in trouble for prostitution, but yet it was the least of my worries at this time. “After that we met regularly. She didn’t share a lot of personal information with me, but sometimes she would get tipsy and spill some details.” I perked up, intrigued. As if seeing my stare, he knew to go on.

“She told me about her abusive ex. He was young and dumb. He drank too much and took out his stress on her when she irked him extra. She said he left after the last fight and never came in contact with her again. She did show up with some more bruises after that though, but claimed it wasn’t Jungkook. I tried questioning it but she didn’t let it slip until she got super tipsy. She said another client of hers was a bit too physical. I didn’t catch the name, but she said he was a bit shorter than I am with a skinnier build. Wide smile. But that’s all I know.”

I flipped the page, scribbling down more information after he finished speaking before I looked up at him gratefully. This was a big help. If we could find out how visited that corner frequently besides Kim, we’d have a big lead. Perhaps it was Yoongi all along and we could crack down his ‘innocent’ façade and throw him behind bars so this will all end.

“Thank you, Namjoon. This is quite helpful. If you can remember any more specific details you have Officer Parks number as well as mine.” I said, slipping him my card. He nodded, slipping it into his coat pocket.

I stood up, sipping my coffee once more as I nodded to Jimin. “Escort him out, and then you and I will visit Brickstone to get some questions answered.”

“Yes m’am!” He replied, moving over to Kim to grab his arm and lead him out. It looked amusing considering how small the poor boy looked compared to damn daddy long legs by his side. I chugged down the rest of my beverage and threw the cup out, already feeling a bit more awake. Tugging on my coat, I met Jimin outside in my car just as I did the previous day.

It’s time to get some answers and prove Hoseok innocent for once and for all.

“What do you mean you can’t tell me that information?” I barked out, shoving my badge into the woman’s face for the umpteenth time. She crossed her arms, nose scrunched but not budging her stance. A cigarette hung from her lips, the smoke leaking out and making my eyes water. Her top lung how showing off her exposed cleavage and saggy tattoos.

“I declare you get a warrant before I tell you anything.” She repeated herself.

I stood staring with a dumbfounded look. “That’s . . .This. That is now how any of this works!” I shouted, throwing my hands up. I was standing here on the corner of the street trying to convince the woman leaning against the pole to spill information. I had every right. At any second I could handcuff her and put her under arrest for prostitution but I was being nice! Yet she was acting as a total dumbass and declaring a warrant. A warrant for me to ask her questions. On public property.

I heaved out a loud sigh, lifting my hand in the air and flicking my fingers as signal. Seconds later I heard a car door open and slam shut, loud boots stepping towards me from behind. I had kept Jimin in the car until I needed him, but the time seemed to come sooner than I had intended.

Instantly the woman perked up, pulling her shirt down a bit more as she smashed the bud into the ground with her heel.

“Hello officer, how can I help you?” She asked in a sickeningly sweet tone. Jimin turned to me with a raised eyebrow. I pulled down his collar, whispering into his ear as he snickered.

“Ah, hello Ms. . .” He trailed off.

“Call me Rose.” She winked, shifting closer. I could tell he was uncomfortable, but he proceeded on knowing he had to get answers out of her.

“Ah, Rose. Wonderful to meet you. Do you think I can ask you a few questions?” He asked kindly with a tilt of his head.

“Oh, of course!” She giggled obnoxiously as I held back a gag.

“Wonderful.” He gave her his signature eye smile before crossing his arms, puffing out his chest slightly. I noticed the woman lick her lips and at this point I feared for the purity of my poor partner. This cougar was ready to pounce.

“Can you tell us about your client Lee Boo Rin?”

“Hm! Oh yes. She was very popular among the men but she limited herself to two clients.”

“Can you tell us more about these clients?”

“One is the tall handsome man who owns the music store.” She spoke, gesturing towards the direction of his building. “The other I’m not too sure of. He always came in a disguise.”

“What kind of disguise?” I asked, however she stayed silent and ignored me.

“What kind of disguise?” Jimin asked this time, and she immediately answered.

“Always all black. Black face mask and glasses, even at night. Leather coat laced with some red thread writing on the back. That’s all I can say.” She sighed, resting a hand on Jimin’s arm.

“Yah! That’s alright. You’ve been quite the help.” Jimin lied, quickly pulling away and clearing his throat. I snickered, patting his back.

“Thank you for your time Rose, we’ll be going now.” I spoke, knowing she wouldn’t give us anything else we could use.

“Have a great day, Officer!” she yelled out as we walked away. Quickly I got back into the vehicle where Jimin immediately scrambled around in his pockets, pulling out hand sanitizer and lathering his arms up making me laugh even more.

“Hand sanitizer won’t help; at this point you may just have to cut off your arm.” I joked, flipping on my lights as I drove off.

“Hardy har har. You’re hilarious.” He mumbled with a scrunched face, wiping the excess liquid on his navy blue pants. The information given wasn’t a lot, but even the disguise was better than nothing. We had to search around the usual places the two would meet up at which included the cheapest hotels in the area, perhaps items were left behind or fingerprints were left from the previous encounter, it was only a matter of time until everything fell into place. I had to remind myself we were still waiting for the DNA samples to come in as well. As soon as we had that file the culprit would be revealed!

“Take a right up the road.”

I glanced over towards Jimin, watching as he tapped furiously on his phone. “That’s the opposite way from the station.” I spoke slowly.

“Exactly. We’re going to my place.”

“Park I’m not going to your place. You have your own vehicle at the station; I will drop you off there.” He threw his phone down with a pout, turning all his attention on me.

“Please! I will be late if I don’t go get ready now. Please just do me this favor.” He pleaded, grabbing onto my arm to which I shook him off gently, taking the right and continuing down the winding road.

“Aish, whatever. I’ll drop you off.”

“Well . . .” He dragged out his words causing me to roll my eyes. What else did this boy need?

“Could you perhaps wait and drive me to a second destination? Also take the next left.”

I followed his directions, turning down yet another road as the trees whipped past. “You owe me Park. Where are you even going?”

“On a date.” He mumbled shyly as I let out a dramatic fake gasp.

“You mean women are actually willing to spend time with you?”                                                                                                                                                       With a smack to my arm and a loud “yah!” I was left a giggling mess under his playful gaze. We remained silent for the most part the rest of the way besides him telling me the directions. In less than ten minutes we had arrived at a small house covered in fake stone and black shutters; simple yet warm.

“You can come in, it won’t take long.”

“No, it’s alright I will stay in here.” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt as I got cozy in the seat. He simply shrugged, knowing not to push me any further. I simply had no reason to step inside his home, and I was almost positive it’d take him longer knowing I was in the house instead of waiting in the car. I was simply rushing him.

“Here, leave your belt. I can bring the items back to the station for you.” I offered as he unbuckled the belt containing all his items, including a gun however his was empty of bullets. More or less it was for intimidation. Before handing it over, he unclipped the handcuffs and shoved them into his back pocket as I raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll be needing those tonight.” He winked as I groaned in disgust.

“Please, spare me the details.” I growled, throwing his stuff into the back of my car. With roaring laughter, he shut the door and moved up to his home, disappearing inside to ready himself.

I flicked the switch on the radio in hopes some good music would be on, but as usual it was just the next kpop hit coming from a girl group. Something about knocking? As much as I tried to find disgust in the mainstream pop, I found myself humming along to the chorus the second time around.

I wasn’t left in the vehicle long, seeing as Jimin came rushing out of his door with jacket half on, hopping on one foot while he slipped his boot on. I snickered as he opened the door, plopping down and clicking his seatbelt into place. Glancing at his figure, I noticed his hair no longer fell across his eyes as it did, but was now pushed back to expose his forehead. He looked more mature, and quite attractive there was no doubt. It’s not like I never saw the attraction with him, but it wasn’t overwhelming. But now I felt like I was drowning into him, or perhaps that was just the suffocating feeling from the amount of cologne he had on.

“Like what you see detective?” He winked. “Just say the word and I can cancel this date. I’d much rather take you out instead.”

I rolled my eyes, turning away to hide the blush as I flicked on the car lights. “Don’t be a flirt Park, just give me the directions.”

And that’s how I found myself driving him off to his date like he was some kid getting a chaperone to attend. I was just thankful I didn’t have to pick him up, however the handcuff comment still lingered in my mind making me squirm.

Days passed as I remained in my office, scrambling through reports and photos, trying to match Yoongi to the evidence but it was harder than I thought. Usually my instincts were great and I could pinpoint the culprit right away and the connections would click, but this time nothing seemed to work. I threw my pen on the desk, throwing my head into my hands as I rubbed at my aching temples.

“Mm, maybe you should stop focusing on Min Yoongi.” I heard Jimin speak from behind me as he slammed shut the microwave door, moving over to sit across from me as he stirred his cup of noodles.

“Who else am I supposed to focus on?” I sassed, sighing as I shifted through the folders again.

“Chug Pogsoak mwo alse?”

“You want to repeat that without a mouthful of food?” I raised an eyebrow, watching as he chewed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“I said, Jung Hoseok, who else?”

“Why would I focus on him? I know he’s innocent.” I said plainly, putting down Yoongis folder.

He scoffed, sitting up in his chair. “You can’t play him out of this. Just because you dated the kid doesn’t mean you know him.”

“Yes, I do.” I challenged

“Oh really now?” He rolled his eyes, shoving more noodles in his mouth as I grew a bit angrier.

“You have no right to question my motives. I know what I’m doing here Park.”

“Sure seems like it.” He sassed in-between bites.

I huffed, shifting my gaze away from him. He didn’t get to tell me off like that. Hoseok has no part in this crime and I know it for a fact, but as these days have passed he kept bringing up his name, convinced he played a role. I shot it down each time.

“Humor me.”

“How so?”

“Just look into his file.”

“This is a waste of time, Park.” I replied hastily.

“Well, you’ve wasted the past three days without finding a lead, what’s another night?” He smirked as I resisted the urge to flick his exposed forehead, hair messily falling to the sides from how often he ran his hands through it. Ever since my gaze lingered a bit too long on his date night, he had worn his hair up more.

“Whatever.” I mumbled, reluctantly plucking his file from the bottom of the pile.

I shifted through the papers, pulling out some sheets and reading through the information, however it was all blah blah old news to me. This was incredibly stupid. Instead of reading into his background for the hundredth time, I opened up my laptop and typed in his Instagram username with a small smile.

Clicking on the first image, I was met with a photo of his TV and snacks sprawled on his table.

Posted 12 days ago.

Late night dance practices always lead to binge eating while watching reruns #whatissleep #imsosore

I snickered, clicking next as I was then met with an adorable smiling selfie. God, I missed that smile. I clicked next once again, falling slowly into his charms with each click of a button. It wasn’t until I clicked on an outfit of the day post that my heart skipped a beat.

Swung over his shoulder was a leather jacket with red embroidering on the back. I gulped, thinking back to a few days prior.

“What kind of disguise?” Jimin asked this time, and she immediately answered.

“Always all black. Black face mask and glasses, even at night. Leather coat laced with some red thread writing on the back. That’s all I can say.” She sighed, resting a hand on Jimin’s arm.

I hadn’t even noticed Jimin moved behind me until I felt his chest vibrate against my shoulder with laughter.

“Well would you look at that, your little boyfriend isn’t as innocent as you thought!” He claimed, slurping the last off his noodles before throwing the cup away.

“This means nothing. There are plenty of jackets out there like his.” I snapped back, slamming the laptop shut.

“Oh come on! How can you keep pushing him aside like this? You’re not taking this job seriously! You can’t play favorites when someone was murdered here! This isn’t an innocent case of him stealing some gum from the corner store!”

My eyes widened at the sudden outburst coming from Jimin beside me. I stood up from my chair, moving face to face with him.

“You do not have the authority to speak to me this way! I am your superior here, you’re just a trainee! Don’t you dare cross this line.” I growled out in defense

“Oh please, don’t pull that card. And I finished my training, thank you. I’m just waiting to be transferred to a different apartment! And god, I can’t wait, maybe my next partner will actually do their job the way they were told to!”

I scoffed, mouth opening a bit as I poked my finger into his chest. “Don’t. Fucking. Start.” I snapped, pushing him with each word. “Like you’ve been any help to this case! You’re worthless to this department! All you do is sit here and annoy the hell out of everyone, mostly me! Why don’t you just take an early leave on this case and get the hell out of here!” I shouted, watching as he no longer had a comeback but instead droopy eyes. I gulped, but kept my cold stare. His arms dropped and he visibly tensed, holding back emotion. Once again I was reminded he was just a young guy with sensitive emotions, and I had broken into his shell too much.

“I can’t believe I ever looked up to you.” He whispered, eyes glossing over as he moved past me to grab his jacket. I stood still, shutting my eyes as I dropped my tense shoulders. I’m not sure if it was the lack of food or sleep, but I was extra cranky and had just royally fucked up with my words.

I heard him slipping on his warm coat before grabbing his phone and keys, wiping at the corner of his eye discreetly but I still noticed.

“Jimin I-“

“Don’t bother.” He snapped. Walking to my door, he stopped to bow, still facing the wall. “It was a pleasure working with you detective.” He spoke through his teeth before walking out with a slam of the door. I winced, falling back into my chair and throwing my head onto the desk.

“Shit!” I yelled out, throwing whatever was next to me across the room which just so happened to be a stapler.

Nice going. You just lost your partner.

Furiously tapping on my keys, I wrote up the conclusion to a small case recently solved by a co-worker. He didn’t have time to gather the finishing loose ends which resulted in me completing the bitch work as usual. Usually I’d complain about doing someone else’s work, or simply argue that it interfered with my own case, but at this moment I was taking any distraction I could with open arms. Since Jimin’s absence two days prior, I had been stuck gloating around my office all the while trying to push this case further away. But as always it snuck back up on me, screaming into my ear for me to finish it up.

My hair was falling out of my messy bun in every direction possible, eyes puffy and red from the amount of rubbing. My clothes were wrinkly and regretfully not smelling the most pleasant seeing as I hadn’t been home since the night Jimin walked out. I had simply crashed on the small broken couch in my office, living off all his old cups of noodles he stored in my cabinet.

Hoseok and Yoongi remained in their cell and so far had no issues which I was surprised. According to Jin’s words as well as the surveillance cameras, both men stayed in their respective corners without even glancing at one another. They both seemed on edge and weary of one another’s possible actions.

A loud knock on my door sounded out as I shifted towards the figure walking in, wiping my mouth in case of any leftover food stains or smeared tinted Chap Stick I applied liberally.

“Good morning Detective.” I cowered slightly under my superiors stare, watching as his eyes shifted around my office, filled with empty noodle cups, napkins, scribbled out papers, paper airplanes, and thrown around office supplies. His nose scrunched up a bit as he refused to even fully step into the room. “I think it’s time you take a break and head home. Just take the rest of the day off.” He spoke, kicking a pencil out of the doorway before looking back at me.

I nodded after a moment, not even trying to fight off the request. I needed a break rather I liked it or not. I wasn’t getting anywhere and I needed to clear my mind. As he stepped out, I managed to clean up the trash as well as placing items back in their respected areas. I tossed my coat over my arm and walked out of my office, not bothering to lock the door as I usually did.

I could hear my shower calling to me even as I stepped into my car; body relaxing into the cozy seats as I started it up, revving the engine a bit before I managed to pull out and begin the short journey home. The last two times I’d been in my car, Jimin was sat at my side talking mindlessly about the cloud shapes, or what he was planning to make for dinner. I oddly missed the noise and was left with nothing but a broken static filled radio to fill my new silence.

What I said wasn’t right, I can admit, but he had no right to invade onto me like that anyways! I know what I’m doing in this field whereas he is still brand new. Yet, he even graduated the academy earlier than everyone else. He’s top of class, top of everything! He was placed with me until they found some place to fit him better. He deserved to work with the best of the best, not low scum like myself. I wanted to call him up and apologize, but yet I felt my doubted pride suffocating the urge.

After pulling into my driveway, I grabbed the keys out, shoving them into my coat pocket while I grabbed the key from the plant beside my door. What a great hiding place, hmm? I know my neighborhoods safe enough where I don’t have to worry about it getting broken into.

Throwing my keys into the dish beside the door now, I kicked off my shoes and began stripping off my clothing layer by layer until I ended up in my bathroom completely bare. I turned the small knob and stepped in to let the warmth absorb me as my shoulders instantly relaxed. With a loud sigh, I shut my eyes and leaned against the wall.

What now?

I now have to take what I’ve gathered and see where it leads to, or who it leads to. Based on results that other specialists have analyzed, there’s got to be a way to connect to Yoongi. Upon searching his apartment, the police found a knife collection that his girlfriend claims he only collected and never used for anything, not even cutting up vegetables let alone murder. His working hours seemed to play him out, but there were no witnesses other than his girlfriend to confirm where he had gone each night. He could clearly hold the description Rose had explained; shorter than Namjoon with a skinny build and wide smile. It was honestly a great match in my eyes and the boy did seem to wear a lot of black as the police saw roaming through his closet’s and drawers.

I just had to prove why Hoseoks prints were on that knife and it was a clean cut!

I lathered up my body in the deep vanilla scent, rinsing and massaging my scalp to ensure every inch of me was scrubbed deeply. After stepping out and wrapping myself in a towel, I made my way to my room to slip into an oversized shirt and long plaid pants. Falling onto my bed, I buried my face into the pillow and let sleep take over, despite it still being early in the evening. I wished to have a refreshed mind to walk into the station and lay out all the evidence in hopes to let the officials take my side. It was time to let Hoseok go.

“Good morning Seokjin.” I greeted with a smile, admiring the man who sat in his chair towards the middle of the room.

“Ah, please, just all me Jin. Good morning, detective!” His large smile was contagious as he flicked the hair from his eyes, moving back down to type through his laptop. I doubted he was completing any work but rather playing another pc game as he loved to do.

I walked past the wooden desk, making my way over to the cell that still held the two men I hadn’t seen since bringing them both into questioning.

At the sound of my boots, both heads slowly looked up to meet my eyes however their reactions were quite the opposite of one another. Hoseok instantly smiled wide, moving towards the edge of the bars to get a closer look at me; meanwhile Yoongi shot a deep glare from his laying position on the bed, flipping over to face the well.

Hoseok called out my name in greeting, causing my heart to skip slightly. Why did he still have such a strong hold over me? Even with his figure being behind bars, I couldn’t help but move as close as possible until his stale cologne faded into my airways. He was still dressed in his silk shirt, although a few more buttons were undone to match his disheveled hair; It was a look I had seen plenty of times throughout our relationship, however that façade usually appeared after a night of withering between the sheets; not from tossing and turning uncomfortably in the cells bed.

Looking into his eyes this way only brought back the distant memories of the intimacy we shared with one another. His long calloused hands always smoothed their way down my bare skin, covering every inch alongside his soft lips to make sure I felt like a prized jewel. His sweet words were imprinted into my mind and he was about as vanilla as my perfume. I tried to change it up but he was always comfortable with the same old methods each time. Despite that, he always left my breathless no matter the circumstances. Rather it be the way his body moved as if fluent in the language of motion, or the higher pitched whines he would whimper into my neck, he always drove me crazy until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Detective?”

I snapped my gaze away from my blank stare towards the wall to face Hoseok with furrowed brows. Immediately I flushed a deep red at the thought of being caught with those memories flowing through my mind.

“I-Um. Right. Hoseok, I am going to take you back for some more questioning, alright?” I quickly moved the topic along as I shook the keys out, unlocking his cell. He walked out to my side, allowing me to re shut and lock the metal bars before grabbing his arm to maneuver back out the door and to the interrogation room once again.

Upon sitting down, he was all smiles as he leaned against the table to get even closer to where I remained. This time, I held no files in my hands; no familiar notepad or pens to write information. I had kept it simple with a small recorder to ensure I could take note of anything at a later time, but I doubted the idea of getting anything useful. If nothing else this would go smoothly like talking to an old friend in a coffee shop.

Pressing play, the soft sounds of the tape moving filled the air before my voice echoed out to overpower it.

“Hoseok I have you here today just to clarify and ask a few questions, is that alright?”

“Of course.” His grin was reassuring and gave me a feeling of warmth. It was something I missed.

“Wonderful. I’d like to begin by clarifying your relations to Lee Boo Rin; you have stated you never came in contact or heard of the name, is that correct?”

“Yes, that is correct. Sadly I never knew the poor girl.”

I hummed out in response, clasping my fingers together on the table. “Have you ever received service from the corner of brickstone?”                                                                                    Raising an eyebrow, his head tilted a bit as his wet tongue smoothed over his lips. “Can’t say I have.” A small smirk was now placed on his face causing me to avert my stare.

“Do you walk down that street or the surrounding neighborhood often?”

“I have visited the local library a few streets as well as the music shop, but I don’t visit either place often.”

“The music shop! Are you familiar with the owner, Kim Namjoon?” He visibly stiffened as the question was shot out which instantly put me on an alert. He had been so relaxed and sure of himself, but with the mention of one name the entire mood switched. Noticing his hesitance, I moved a bit closer now.

“Mr. Jung, what is your relationship to Kim Namjoon?” I asked a bit slower this time, moving the tape forwards to be able to catch his every word.

“I have no relations.” His answer was sharp, leaving me to wonder why he was outright lying when he knew I’d pick up on it.

“Mr. Jung, I will ask you one more time and I need the honest truth, what is your relationship to Kim Namjoon?”

He remained silent as I impatiently waited; fingertips running over the bracelet clasped loosely on my left wrist. He avoided my direct stare but instead opted to examine the metal leg of the table.

“He has visited my studio numerous times. We don’t get along well.”

“Ah, so you do know him?” I mused. At this point, I was lacking a bit of my previous assumptions. I still didn’t believe he was capable of murder, but perhaps he was capable of a simpler crime with these suspicions.

“We met a few months back. He criticized my track and sabotaged it by recording over my files I had worked on for months. His apologies were nonexistent and we got into a fight.”

“Did it get physical?”

“Yes.” He regretfully spoke.

“Can you please give a brief playback?”

He shifted his body in the chair, crossing one leg over another as an arm rested on the chairs back behind him. “I initiated the fight by throwing a punch to his face to which he returned the favor. I knocked him to the ground and we continued our fist fight until we both were too weak and full of blood on the ground. It was messy but innocent, I can assure you that.”               “Innocent?” I scoffed, not meaning to come across so harsh. “I didn’t take you as a person of violence.” I muttered. He was always so soft and caring, never wanting to harm a thing. The image of him in a fight was unimaginable to me.

“People change.” He spoke with more of a deep tone, causing the familiar chill to run down my spine.

I remained silent, staring into his now cold eyes. Reaching forwards, I pressed the pause button on the recorder causing the room to fall eerily silent.

“That is enough for one day, Mr. Jung.” I whispered, standing up as I moved to the door. Stepping outside, an officer was on guard to which I requested Hoseok be escorted back to the cell. Glancing over my shoulder, his intense glare was burning into me still until I walked away.

I guess people do change, because the man in that room was no longer the Hoseok I loved.

“Where are the DNA results?” I questioned the three men in front of me as they munched on their overfilled sandwiches, a soggy tomato falling onto the lap of the eldest man in the middle.

“Detective, please, this is our lunch break.”

“You’ve been pushing this off for a week now. I demand to see some results. There are no main leads and this is the sole piece of evidence we need to wrap up this case.” I snapped, watching as they all squirmed uneasily. I could tell they were hiding something. They had to be. I was being avoided left and right and the topic of my case was pushed further back than usual.

I tapped my fingers on the table I leaned over, not letting down my stare until one of them cracked. “The DNA sample was lost!”

“Excuse me?” I exclaimed angrily, eyes widening as I straightened up into a standing position. “What the hell do you mean it was lost?” My lips parted, the dry air traveling down my throat as I inhaled angrily.

“We don’t know! I. . just. Somehow during transportation it went missing. We will have to go off the other leads at this point.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. We don’t have any other leads, face it!”

“Well you sure as hell better find one. I thought you had it pinned on Min?”

I sighed, a hand rubbing my temple. “I did have it pinned on him, but I was told it was too far-fetched.”

“Well we can all agree it’s better than nothing. It seems we have to continue this case as it stands otherwise all our asses will be on the line. I will personally schedule the court hearing.” The man on the right spoke as I chewed on my lip.

“Email me the details.” I spoke through gritted teeth as I pushed myself away, walking out of the lunch room and not bothering to go back to my office. This was insane and yet another reason for me to find this department shitty. I guess it worked out anyways, seeing as Yoongi is now being accused rightfully, but my gut feeling has me wishing the DNA was still around just to extra confirm it all.

With a stiff figure, I walked back to the cell room once more only to see Jin standing by the bars, grabbing out Hoseok from inside. I slowed down my steps, watching with a careful eye. However, Hoseok spotted me and gave away my presence as Jin turned to greet me.

“Hello Detective!”

“Hi Jin, uh, may I ask where you’re taking him?”

“Ah, right. I just got a call from our head office. Hoseok is officially being released.”

Before I could respond, I heard shuffling from inside the cell indicating Yoongi had abruptly stood up.

“What the hell do you mean he’s being released?! You’re telling me that I’m being accused of this murder?”

I bit my lip, watching Jins eyes go soft. “I’m sorry Mr. Min, I am not on this case. But it seems evidence found its way back to you.” With a scream and a kick to the wall, the smaller boy collapsed on the bed, head in hands, and I swore I could hear the soft cries.

My heart clenched. Why did it ache for him? I’d spent all this time forcing the leads to him but why the change of heart in this last second? I looked at Hoseok only to see him with no emotion, watching Yoongi silently as Jin held his arm firmly.

Both men walked past me in silence as Jin led him to the desk for paperwork. I mindlessly stepped in front of the bars to watch Yoongi instead of following Hoseok out.

“It wasn’t me.” He cried out after a minute of silence. “Please.” His voice cracked, “You’ve got to believe me.” The words crawled into my ears and scratched all the way down my throat, making me cough out into my arm. My eyes watered from the intrusion as I simply remained in my standing position.

“There is no way to prove you innocent Mr. Min. I apologize, but I cannot take spoken word as evidence to free you.” He sniffled wiping his nose on his battered up sleeve.

“How long will I get?” He hesitantly asked, no longer hiding his face in his hands but still staring at the ground.

“That is for the judge to decide.” My words didn’t fill him up fully, he wanted more. With hesitance, I spoke once again. “Perhaps 20 years, if not more. It’s common around here for longer time, some getting life. I cannot say for sure.”

Silence overtook the room once more as the clicking of the tock engraved its routine timing into my mind. I had no words to relieve him of his pain, but I felt sympathy towards him. Was that wrong to feel emotion for a criminal? It still had to be him, but perhaps he was. . . insane? With these mood swings, it seemed as if there was something deeper playing a part.

“I can send you in for medical examination, you can plead insane, and your time may be less or spent at a facility instead.”

“I’m not crazy.” He snapped, eyes shifting upwards to glare at me, his broken tone no longer there.

Sure seems like a bit of crazy to me there, buddy

“Your loss.” I whispered, but instead of the mocking view it just came out in pain. They would not treat him well in prison. No, not at all. He was going to be brutally abused mentally and physically, seeing as he’d be attending a higher security prison. It broke my heart but with a sharp tongue, I told myself to never find pity on those who do it to themselves. So without another word, I turned away and walked out of the room, leaving Yoongi alone to be swallowed by his own thoughts

 “Do you ever think about the future?” His hands fiddled with my own beneath the sheets, eyes boring into the ceiling lit simply by the moonlight peeking through. I let out a hum, tracing my thumb over his smooth wrist as I twisted my legs between his to capture more of the warmth radiating off his golden skin.

“Sometimes, but I tend not to dwell on the future. Then I’ll ignore the present. Ignore the time I have with you.” I answered in a soft voice, my throat still aching from the cold I was recovering from. Hoseok had spent each day caring for me, even skipping his dance classes just to ensure I rested well with enough medicine, food, and rest to bring me back to feeling 100%.

“I think about our future a lot.” He spoke, one hand moving to rest on top of my hands that still traced his. I shifted my head up on the pillow to stare into his eyes more, but his gaze never left the ceiling.

“Our future?” I felt a few butterflies in my stomach at the thought of it. I spent each moment in fear of Hoseok leaving my side, even though we had been dating a year and a half already. He was out of my league, way too good for me in every way. Hilarious, charming, incredibly attractive, talented, the list went on. All I had going for me was my ability to bake cookies, although some batches still came out burnt. Even then Hoseok would smile and munch away on the darkened circles, washing them down with milk and offering encouraging words to ensure I’d get it right next time.

“Yeah. Our future. . .” He licked his lips, chest rising and falling under his thin black tank top; collarbones exposed in the best way. “I want to be yours for a long time. I hope you feel the same.” He mumbled with a small blush tinting his skin. My face was surely the same as I moved to hide my head on his shoulder, giggling a bit.

“I love you Hobi. I’ll be yours till the day you get sick of me.”

“That will be never.”

“Then I guess I am forever yours.”

He grew silent, hands moving off mine to lift my head up slightly to meet his gaze. “Promise?”

I bit my lip, shyly nodding. “Promise.” His sweet gaze grew closer until his lips fanned over my own, breathing into me as I inhaled, the cycle moving as if we were in sync. He took his time, savoring each freckle on my skin, every curved eyelash fluttering in time with the beating of his chest. His mouth always tasted like candy, even if he never let the sugary sweets past his lips. Somehow he still tasted like the best treat you could receive on a summer’s day causing me to fall deeper into his spell. His lips ghost past my own to trail down my warm skin that rose with goosebumps, my own hands wrapping around his shirt that hung over his chest barely covering what remained underneath.

“I’ll never let you go.” He mumbled, nipping at my skin to cause the familiar breathless whimper I let escape each time he repeated the action. “Never.” He rasped while parting only to slip the loose tank over his head, throwing it across the room.

I woke up in a sweat, hand running through my messy hair as I turned my head on the pillow, grabbing my phone to check the time. 12:17 pm. Of course my mind had to replay the familiar scene in my head. That was simply months before everything went downhill, and I wanted nothing more than to relive that moment over and over; a moment in which everything was pristine and full of fresh young love. How did we take such a wrong turn? Instead of hitting a dead end, we flipped over the mountain and crashed in a never ending fall.

With a loud sigh I pushed my hair behind my ear and moved across my room to the attached bathroom, splashing some water on my face before moving to brush my teeth. My eyes shut, one hand leaning into the counter while the other just slowly brushed away. I was never a morning person, despite it being the afternoon; it was still technically my morning.

Spitting the excess into the sink, I rinsed my mouth and traveled out to my kitchen to start up my coffee machine. I ran my hands over my arms a few times, trying to smooth away the goosebumps that rose due to my bare feet padding across the cool tired floor. I added the water up to the fill line in the back of my machine, puncturing the small coffee container before pressing the button. Despite waiting a few minutes, nothing was happening

What the hell?

I was then interrupted by a loud technical sound erupting from inside indicating my beloved machine had bit the dust. Just my luck, right? My day off and all I wanted was to stay in and complete some research, but without coffee my day would dwindle down to doing nothing by lying around on my couch. I had to go out. I threw my oversized denim jacket on over the t-shirt I had worn to bed, changing into a pair of jeans and grabbing my old beat up sneakers as I made my way to the door.

No more than ten minutes later, I was in and out of the mainstream coffee shop, a hot latte placed in my left hand as I fumbled with my phone in the right. As much as I wanted to push all my worries away, the idea of Jimin storming out still lingered at the front of my mind. As time went on, I felt the guilt build up until it got to the point of being unable to function. I found my thumb moving over the familiar contact I had opened and closed a hundred times on the walk to the coffee shop alone. Before I could turn back, I pressed call and felt the anxiety tumbling up my throat with each passing ring. I didn’t think he’d answer, but on the last ring it finally picked up.

“What do you want?” His stern voice was clear, but I could hear it weaken a bit towards the end. He was trying to seem serious but I knew he was still hurt, or rather couldn’t keep up the mean boy act.

“Jimin.” I mumbled out, hearing his sharp intake of breath as I spoke his actual name.

He was silent, but I could hear him breathing softly indicating he didn’t hang up. This was my short chance to stumble out a few words.

“Jimin-ah, I’m so sorry. Please trust me that I didn’t mean what I said.” I spoke with a borderline monotone voice, but he knew I wasn’t one to express much emotion, not when it came to things like this. “I hope you can forgive me. I will do anything, I swear. I can’t bring you back to my team, but I know you’re better off there anyways. Just. . .” I paused biting my lip, not knowing what else to say. Before I could try to continue, he spoke up.

“Dinner.”

“Huh?” I stopped walking, eyebrows scrunching up.

“Take me to dinner. You owe me something better than that crappy lunch.” I could practically hear the smile in his voice, and it relieved me to know he was willing to move on from this. He could never stay mad for long.

“Shall I pick you up?” I asked with a small laugh.

“7. Don’t be late detective.” With that, he hung up to leave me a smiling mess at the thought of things finally working out.

Perhaps all this stress was worth something. This case was soon to be over; Jimin would be back on speaking terms, Hoseok was off the hook, everything was going to be alright.

It truly was.

My smile was unable to fall off my lips as I parked outside my apartment complex, throwing open the door to shimmy my jacket off my shoulders giddily. Something about Jimin made my heart race, my body tense up in the best way, he made my stomach flutter and it was something new to experience. Something I hadn’t felt since . . . since Hoseok. An entire year ago.

The dinner was simple, truly, even though he told me I was paying he refused to let me pay in the end. We both ordered a traditional meal at a moderately expensive restaurant, the soft music overhead contributing to the mood we seemed to set. Apologies were thrown back and forth between the both of us until we were left out of breath with nothing left to say.

He smiled wide at me in the end, and I knew in that moment he had taken my heart. For once, I wasn’t upset about something being taken hostage.

I took my time walking back to my place, opening the door and flipping on the switch only to be met with a refreshing smell. Don’t get me wrong, my apartment wasn’t full of any odor, but rather nothing at all. I wasn’t one to keep air fresheners around or collect candles, yet there was a distinct smell filling the small apartment.

Walking into my kitchen, I spotted a beautiful vase of assorted flowers all freshly cut and dipped into the water. Alongside was a note with delicate detailing, reading a simple message.

Thanks for everything.

J.H.

“Court is now in session, the honorable Judge Lee Sung Min is presiding.”

“In the matter of the murder case of Lee Boo Rin, Mr. Min, how do you plead?” The judges’ voice boomed across the open room as silence took over the attendees. Yoongi squirmed in his seat, eyes glossy and droopy. He was much thinner than he already was before, cheeks sunken into his pale tone that made him look like a walking skeleton.

“Guilty, your honor.” His deep voice was clear and sturdy, but he was anything but.

How did we get here? It was simple. The day after I strolled into the station with full blown confidence, slamming down each piece of evidence even if they were far-fetched. I had spent hours debating and struggling with numerous people just to show my side of things. Believe it or not, they believed me in the end. It had to do with the fact Hoseok was always at the station anyways when we were together. They knew him almost as well as I did; our sweet neighborhood flower boy. In fact it truly didn’t take any convincing at all. They wanted me to sell out Yoongi in this case, I just had to finally say the world.

Yoongi had been convinced to plead guilty seeing as all evidence was going against him rather he liked it or not. It would give him a shorter sentence perhaps, and he was too vulnerable to deny the offer of pleading guilty.

“Counsel, have you reached a settlement?”

“Yes, your honor. The people have agreed to time served with no bail”

“Mr. Min, do you know by pleading guilty you lose the right to a jury trial?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Do you give up that right?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Do you understand what giving up that right means?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone force you into accepting this settlement?”

“No.” Yoongi was tense, a few tears spilling over his eyes but he was quick to pat them with the backs of his hands. He still managed to keep up the pitiful innocent act.

“Are you pleading guilty because you in fact murdered Miss Lee Boo Rin?”

“Yes.” He choked out a sob, bottom lip trembling as his girlfriend sat in the audience sobbing loudly.

“Min Yoongi, you are hereby sentenced to 30 years in prison.” The loud sound of his gavel sounded throughout the room as two officers grabbed Yoongi, escorting him out as he mouthed ‘I love You’ to his girlfriend one last time. Each word spoken after that moment seemed to draw a blank in my mind as I watched the scene unfold. For some odd reason it broke my heart even though I knew I did the right thing. His act was too good, too real; it made me feel as if he truly was innocent.

I stood up, watching as Hoseok stood briefly before I had, rushing out of the court room. I desperately ached to talk to him seeing as we didn’t speak outside of the station and briefly before the court case. I quickly followed after him, rushing out the front doors just as he had. I went to speak, but stopped as got into his vehicle and drove off in a rush. Frowning, I stood on the sidewalk in confusion.

What was his issue?

Shaking it out of my head for now, I wrapped my coat tighter around my frame as I walked down the sidewalk. I had walked here from the station as it wasn’t far and parking would have been hell. My head was racing but also came to a sense of relief. The case is finally over. But why do I feel as if I’m missing something? I arrived back at the station and walked in the small building to gather my things so I could head home.

I grabbed my keys and hat before leaving the room, heading to my superiors office to return the extra key he had lent me for the station. However, upon stepping in I saw a file placed on top of his laptop. The assistants around here always left files on top of closed laptops, who knows why, but it was where they put freshly faxed information. It seemed off for me to catch onto, but for some reason my mind told me to reach out and grab it.

Looking around to make sure I was alone, I grabbed the vanilla folder and peeked inside with curious eyes.

DNA Results

I bit my lip, flipping over the pages as my eyes slowly widened. It was the results of the DNA found inside the woman’s body; the fact that she encountered sexual intercourse soon before her death. Seeing as she did work the corners and only had to clients, and Namjoon was out of the area, this would give the identity away! I was told that the samples were lost, meaning we had to follow the other leads that led to Yoongi, but yet here was all the evidence we needed! Not lost at all, but freshly faxed over from the lab!

Eagerly, I flipped the page and skimmed through to find the matching name, but as soon as I did my heart skipped a beat before gradually increasing.

Jung Hoseok.

The folder dropped out of my hands, body stepping backwards as I inhaled a deep gasp. No . . . no! This had to be incorrect! He . . . Hoseok. Hoseok is innocent. This had to be a mix up somehow! It had to be.

I quickly rushed out of the office and through the front doors, moving quickly down the sidewalk I had just come from. I was running back towards the court in hopes to contact the rest of the officials. This had to be looked into, I couldn’t let the information go or else I’d clearly lose my job, right?

However I stopped in my tracks when I saw a familiar figure stepping out of his vehicle, and I was still a few blocks away from the court house. Hoseok was stepping out of his car, slamming it shut before pressing the button to lock up the doors. He shoved his hands into his pockets, walking down the opposite street from my intended destination.

I slowly walked behind as he made his way down the street, seeming to be heading towards a familiar road I’d walked before. My heart began to race with suspicions flying left and right. I still managed to throw those thoughts away in hopes he’d keep walking to the convenience store, to the library a few blocks over, to anywhere other than where I hoped he’d end up. Yet he did the opposite.

I watched as Hoseok came to stop at the corner, grabbing onto the arm of Rose and leaning in to whisper something in her ear. The scratchy giggles of her smoker voice filled the empty sidewalk as I peered from around the corner of the brick building. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a slip of paper as she then handed him over a wad of cash. My chapped lips fell apart in shock as I could hear my heart in my head now. Throbbing each split second. I quickly threw myself into the alleyway beside me as he turned around to make sure no witnesses watched the encounter before his long legs strolled off and away from the corner to head back to his vehicle.

My panicked state had me speed walking back to my apartment, leaving my vehicle parked along the curbside as my legs felt as if they moved quicker although it took much longer than it would have been by car, but my mind was not in the right place .I was jogging by the time I got outside the apartment complex, throwing the main door open.

Suddenly it all made sense. The late nights I never came home, he was always roaming around. Stopping by the office to visit me was just an excuse to snoop around. He gained the trust of the department all while gaining access to the things he needed most. He looked into the minds of police officers, examiners, blood splatter analysists, every damn person he ever needed to know about he gained the attention of and used it to his own benefit.

His act was a good one, which I had to admit with no hesitation. I truly thought I had him figured out for an innocent lover who enjoyed making corny jokes, too many sweets, and had a weak spot for old movies. But as I thought over it, everything was connecting like a puzzle I left undone for all these years.

I suddenly felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in uneasiness. I let a murderer go. The worst possible thing I could ever do and I’ve done it. Yoongi is completely innocent and yet I somehow managed to place every piece of evidence on him despite knowing deep down everything led to Hoseok.

Shit, shit, shit.

I need to fix this all right now. Who knows what Hoseok will be up to now? He is now aware he can get away with anything! He has the upmost trust in everyone at this point; they’re practically feeding from the palm of his hand. Yoongi is rotting behind bars for something he never even thought of doing and I was all to blame. For once in my life I was seeing Jimin’s side of things, and yet I shipped him off just like I swatted away all the leads that led right to Hoseok.

I ran a hand over my face, rubbing at my eyes with an audible sigh as I could practically feel the migraine building up. I brushed my hair over my shoulders, slipping the oversized knit beanie on my head as I fumbled with the door to my apartment complex. I needed to gather the evidence and bring it to the station as soon as possible. My job is surely on the line here and I know this may as well be the last case I ever wrap up, but as long as the right man is behind bars that is all that matters. It’s my job to keep everyone safe and at this rate I’m putting more lives on the line.

I fumbled with the metal key, shoving it into the old rusty lock before twisting it open with a quiet squeak of the hinges. I shut and locked the frame behind me, resting my head on the door for a quick second with scrunched shut eyes.

You can do this. Grab the papers, walk into that office, and lay it on them. You’ll be fired on the spot guaranteed but it’s worth it. C’mon, C’mon.

I tried to reassure my thoughts as much as possible, but it didn’t stop the slight shake in my breathing to be evident. I pushed my body away from the door, not bothering to kick off my shoes as I made my way into my small bedroom. Switching the light on, I walked over to my dresser and pulled out the top drawer that held the numerous papers; however, upon opening it I was met with nothing. My eyebrows furrowed as I picked up the clothing beside the spot, throwing it to the side as I rummaged around in hopes to find the lost papers.

“What the fuck?” I hissed out to myself, slamming the drawer shut as I moved to my bedside table, hoping I had placed them in there by mistake. I opened up the compartments, moving around old papers and broken pens but was met with disappointment once again.

I let out a loud huff, walking out of my room and glancing around my apartment. Where could I have placed the papers? I swear I left them in my room. I tugged my sweater further up my arms as I moved towards my kitchen, hoping to grab a glass of water and cool off for a moment, but when flipping on the light I stopped in my tracks.

All the files were placed onto my kitchen island.

I grew shaky as goosebumps filled my skin, knowing damn well what kind of situation I was now facing. I had placed those papers in my drawer and I knew that for a fact. This wasn’t just my groggy state playing mind tricks once more; Hoseok was here.

Shifting forwards, I snatched the folder in my hand, quickly turning around to make an escape towards my front door but I was pulled back by an arm snatching around my waist tightly, bringing me flush against a rough chest. A hand was placed over my mouth as his face curled into my neck, nose pressing against my skin lightly as he inhaled deeply.

“Ah, my little detective; have you finally figured it out?” He mumbled sweetly. His words were sickening despite holding such an innocent tone. I struggled within his grasp while using all the tricks I knew worked on everyone, but not him. He was too strong and he knew all my moves. Spending two years by my side also meant seeing my brutal practice and methods; he had me figured out like a playing card.

“Let me go!” I screamed from beneath his hand, but due to that fact it came out more muffled. His hot breath chuckles against me as the goosebumps rose more. The hand on my mouth moved towards my neck, but as I went to scream nothing came out due to the grip now straining my vocal chords. The only sound to escape was a scratchy gasp.

Seeing as I now couldn’t make a sound, he took the advantage so take his hand off my waist and spin my head to look up at him. And at that moment I saw the life leave his beautiful eyes, even if he wasn’t dead. This was no longer my Hoseok, but the side I had never managed to see directly.

“My beautiful girl. Always so sweet to me.” He inhaled and sighed out happily, his eyes shutting briefly as he did do. It was such a naturally happy movement that only seemed sinister in this time. My hands gnawed at his own around my throat, but he only tightened causing me to see specks of white.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to piece everything together. I left you clues along the way hoping you’d follow my little game, but what a disappointment this has been.” He sighed and shoved me down into a kitchen chair, releasing his grip and placing both arms on either side of me so I was unable to speak. I inhaled deeply and coughed over and over as oxygen filled back into my lungs.

“One word and I won’t hesitate to slit your throat.” He warned in a growl, showing me the knife he had. It was no use screaming anyways; who would hear me? Instead I listened to what this sick man had to say to me.

“Poor Yoongi. Ripped apart from his girlfriend and shoved behind bars. Beaten senseless and tortured to the point of sobbing each night in his cell.” He smiled, “Charming really to see him unravel.”

“You’re a sick bastard.” I spat out, rewarding me a loud slap across the face. My head twisted and my cheek stung like hell as I spit out a little blood.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, he’ll get used to it. He won’t be coming out anytime soon anyways. These files will never make it to the authorities.” He spoke, moving to drag the knife up and down my arm lightly.

“It’s such a shame to hear about your poor partner Jimin.” My eyes snapped towards him and widened in shock. Jimin was sent to work on a new case; I knew that for a fact. I’d sent him off myself despite his protests to stay with me. I was simply upset he wasn’t believing me for backing up Hoseok.

“What the hell did you do to him?” I breathed out in a panicky tone. His lips curled up much like they did in the interrogation room.

“Where do I start?” he chuckled, removing the knife from my skin. “First objective was breaking his fingers, one each half hour. Then I moved to slicing his precious cheeks, how adorable they were. He begged me to stop, god he was such a crier. I expected that though.” He snickered as tears fell from my eyes. “He threw every swear word in my face and spit at me. It only earned him extra punches. Your precious partner isn’t as pretty with a swollen eye.”

“S-stop.” I croaked out, imagining Jimin being tortured breaking my heart apart.

“Don’t worry; he’s not in any more pain.” He licked his lips, “I slit his throat as well.”

I let out a sob, eyes shutting tightly as my emotions tumbled out. “He begged me to let you go unharmed as long as I took his own life, who was I to disobey his offer? His life in place of torturing you? I couldn’t pass that up. I was going to let him go; truly I was after having a little fun.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I’ve heard worse.” He scoffed, grabbing the knife back up in his hands. “Anyways, you should thank your precious partner. Thanks to him being oh so brave, I won’t torture you.” He smiled, twirling the weapon under the light. “I’ll just get straight to it.” He spoke.

Wait, what?

His menacing laugh filled my ears as I gulped harshly. “He only said not to torture you, right? Never said anything about getting straight to the killing. He really should have been more careful with his words.”

The tears flowed so fast from my eyes. I had killed Jimin. It was entirely my fault. If I had stopped playing the favorite card and actually did my job, I could have seen the clues placed in front of me. I didn’t have much time to overthink my actions when his hand roughly gripped my jaw, pulling my face towards his. Before I could react, he smashed his lips against my own. Tongue tracing my bottom lip and forcing entry into my mouth. My salty tears mixed with his minty taste as I tried to push away but he only forced himself on me more before slipping away with a loud smack.

“Mm, goodbye kisses are always the sweetest.” He cooed. “Thank you for everything.” He smiled sweetly before swinging the knife up and deeply dragging it across my neck. I choked, blood bubbling past my lips and sputtering to the ground as my body fell down, air unable to pass through me any longer. I choked on my own blood; chest heaving in hopes to find a new way to survive but was met with nothing but absolute pain and lack of air. His shoes were the last thing I saw before my heart came to a slow finish.

He smiled, letting her body fall limp to the floor before grabbing a sheet from his pocket. It evenly had prints displayed across ready to be transferred. Picking up his knife, he cleansed and wiped down the handle before pressing the sheet roughly against it, letting it drop back to her side. Wiping his hands together, he let out a content sigh and stepped away from her lifeless figure.

“Sorry Kim Taehyung.” He mumbled referencing the new victim he had just placed the murders fault upon. If only he had remembered to wipe his prints last time before adding Yoongis he could have avoided this whole mess.

[weezerdan-blog]

Cliché

summary: Dan Howell is a regular teenager. He goes to high school, he hangs out with his best friends (PJ, Chris, and Phil), and he hates doing homework. He's fairly attractive, enough so to attract the attention of a few girls and secretly Phil. What people don't know about this average teen, is that he isn't so average. Dan Howell is in a popular alternative band. He sings and plays keyboard for this band, known to many as 'Ripping Ivory'. He wears a mask onstage as he sings and is known by his fanbase as Q, even though they know this isn't his true identity.

warnings: panic attack type situation, worry, some sexual references. but all warnings are small this book is overall very nice i just need to warn bc warnings

words: 4100

a/n: this is my first fic so i edited this and read it over many times. please tell me if i have any grammar mistakes or anything. also, im really proud of this so please don't let it flop!!

p.s.s: ik this is a bad title. i write i don’t come up with this crap.

/

"Dude did you guys hear about how Ripping Ivory is coming here in 2 weeks??" Chris asks as he sits down at the lunch table. Dan doesn't even flinch at the name because of how much his friends talk about the band, but his heart does speed up and he is afraid that they may ask him something and Dan will end up telling them, that he is Q and that's him behind the mask.

Phil nods, "I already got tickets! Are you guys going??" PJ and Chris both exclaim a form of 'yes!' but Dan shakes his head and looks down. "Why can't you go? I could probably get tickets for you if it has anything to do with money"

'Nope, definitely not money' Dan thinks to himself, 'Just the fact that I'll be the one singing at that concert.' "I'm visiting my grandma the day of the concert" This wasn't technically a lie, except for the fact that his grandma was coming to the concert to see him perform. As long as they never see her there then there will be no problems. Dan tries to make sure his family members come to the concerts at different times so no one will ever suspect it. All of his close relatives and his co-workers are the only people who know his secret.

"Oh man, that sucks" PJ whispers. They had all wanted to go together, and Dan had made sure to act excited with them about it weeks prior to get them pumped. Dan is actually very glad that they will be able to come to his band's concert, only part of him wishes he could be in the crowd with them.

The thought of Ripping Ivory without Dan, or Q, makes Dan giggle. It would be David on the bass and Todd on the drums but only David's back up vocals, or any vocals for that matter. Dan did most of the singing.

"We'll take videos and pictures for you." Phil comforts him and gives him a small hug before pulling away.

"Lester's going to have /a lot/ of pictures and videos. We all know how much he loves Q," Chris says and then makes his voice higher and clasps his hands together as he talks again, "Oh my Q! He's so beautiful and his hair looks so soft! I'm going to marry him one day!" Phil shoves Chris from across the table.

"No, Phil talks more about his ass in those tight ass jeans. I wonder how that boy can even breathe in them," PJ chuckles and dodges any attacks from a angry looking Phil. Phil can't look angry so Dan would describe him as looking like an angry goldfish.

'Easy,' Dan thinks, 'You get used to wearing them after a while. They've just shaped to fit my body perfectly.'

Dan then realizes what Phil has been thinking about Q. Q has the same body as Dan, so does Phil like Dan's body too????? Dan's cheeks heat up and his heart rate speeds up at the indirect compliment. Phil was definitely someone that he may or may not have a /tiny/ crush on. I mean, who wouldn't fall for him?

"I mean, maybe you could come to another concert with us another time..." Chris says, trying to lighten the situation. "It's okay, I will. I heard panic! is coming in November," Dan says and smiles, suddenly changing the topic to that.

/

Dan and Phil both walk to Phil's house together. Phil walks up the sidewalk to the front door and opens it up. "Thanks for coming over, I really needed someone to hang out with. My parents have been gone for 2 days and it's lonely."

"Not that I don't want to be here, because I do, but why couldn't Chris or PJ come??" Dan asks curiously.

"They're probably having sex."

"That's true. Not a mental picture I needed though"

"Sorry.. but now I have it too so we're even"

Dan's phone buzzes in his pocket and he picks it up, checking the new message. It's in his band's group chat from their manager, Sara, to the band group chat. 'BAND STUFF' was too obvious so they settled for the next best option.

FROM SARA (to BNDSTF)

meet at arena, they're letting us go up early to practice / get some things done before the concert.

Dan sighs, "Phil, I'm really sorry but I have to go.."

"What, why?"

"Family emergency."

Phil has been getting suspicious of a lot of these random having to leave things and family emergencies, but he doesn't say anything because what if his mum was really in the hospital or dying?? Then Phil would be a terrible friend.

Phil just nods, "Go ahead. Text me if you can? Anything is better than being alone."

Dan nods back, "Of course"

FROM DAN (BNDSTF):

omw

/

Dan slides on his mask, a plain black covering that went around his eyes and the top of his nose. Dan also pushes his hair up into a quiff for shows so no one will be able to tell him from his fringe.

Ripping Ivory's shows are what Dan calls 'Literally the best thing you'll ever go to'. There's lights, smoke, audience participation (consensual of course), and wardrobe changes for different parts of the concert.

Dan wears his black skinny jeans most of the concert and changes his shirts mostly. Unless it's an outdoor concert and halfway through the concert he may change into basketball shorts.

Dan and the rest of the members quickly skim through their songs and then all of them sneak off to decode the entire arena to find the best spots to stay and check out dressing rooms. It is a pre-concert tradition for them to memorize every corridor and backstage thing they can. They may or may not play hide and seek up until they literally call them to go onstage.

FROM PHIL (to Dan):

everything going good with your family??

FROM DAN (to Phil):

yeah sorry about having to leave..

FROM PHIL (to Dan):

it's totally understandable.

/

"I'm not counting, that round was unfair!" Todd complains and crosses his arms.

Dan laughs and rolls his eyes, "I found you fair and square."

"You didn't tell us you were coming."

"Fine! I'll just count! We have 45 seconds so I'm giving you 15 seconds to run to a spot," David says and puts his hands over his eyes, starting to count (rather quickly too). Dan runs as fast as he can into a closet and slams the door shut and he suddenly hears a small click.

Dan goes into panic mode when he finds the door locked. He starts banging on the door for someone to come open it. "HELP!!!!!" he screams and he waits for a good at least 30 seconds before David opens the door. "Dan we're supposed to be out there! Hurry!"

Dan, Todd, and David all sprint to their spots when entering the stage.

Dan is lifted onto the stage from a middle spot. He runs his fingers through his already pushed up hair and fixes his mask. "Hello London!" he says happily and the crowd starts shouting. Dan walks up and starts high-fiving people from the front of the pit. "Sorry for starting so late" Dan giggles a bit, "I got trapped in a closet" He widens his eyes a bit and smiles.

"But no one here came to hear me complain about my life so lets start out with some 'Focus on her'!" The crowd shouts loudly and Dan smiles a very happy smile.

Dan walks forward to the front of the stage as he sings. For this song and the next two songs after he will be wearing this white button-up that is short sleeve and has small black dots on it. Most of his wardrobe is monochrome because of his mask and jeans but some parts he has more bright clothes.

Smoke rises up on both sides of Dan and around the rest of the band and lights flash in all directions.

The next three songs finish way faster than anyone wanted. Dan and the other members run backstage as they play a video for the crowd that is enough to keep them on their toes for the next song.

Dan runs out after the video just ends. He is now wearing a Kanye West 'Yeezus' shirt that he just threw on because he'll be doing the 'It Game' after the next song.

The It Game is whenever he has one of his security guards pick a random girl or guy from the audience. Then he sings them one of their more lovey songs (as much as Dan doesn't want to admit it, he wrote the song while thinking of him and Phil). He then asks them a few questions to entertain the audience and give the 'It' a good experience to remember. The 'It' is able to leave the stage with backstage passes for whoever they came with and a kiss on the cheek from Q.

Soon enough, Dan is waiting for the spotlight to land on whoever his main guard, Bob, chose to go on stage. "Okay guys, we're now going to play a little game. One of my security guards, and good friends, will be choosing a person from the audience to come up here. If you're asked and don't want to, just say no because I know how bad that can be for someone. Like 'OMG Q why did you force me on stage and make me say my name in front of like a ton of people?!', it's okay because I won't. So Bob, go and find the 'It'."

The crowd cheers and several people jump and hold up signs to try and get onstage. Suddenly a spotlight stops in the middle. Dan can't tell what the person looks like because of how bright everything is but he will whenever they get up on the stage.

Footsteps, the spotlight is put not only on Dan, but his guest. Dan looks up into the eyes and is filled with familiarity. Blue eyes that he could recognize in a sea of people. Out of everyone here, Bob chose Phil Lester. That bastard knew who he was to Dan and chose him on purpose.

Dan smiles and grabs a stool from the side of the stage for him to sit down. He grabs a microphone and hands it to Phil because Dan has a headset mic. "What's your name?" Dan asks with a smile and suddenly /really/ hopes Phil won't be able to recognize him even through a mask.

"Phil."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful man, huh?"

Phil's cheeks go a dark shade of red, "Thank you" he almost whispers.

"I would compliment you more, but I guess singing you a song will work too" Dan smiles at him and Phil's eyes crinkle up into that beautiful smile that Dan loves seeing. "Adorable" Dan says and starts with the song.

Dan finishes the song by walking up to Phil and swiftly pushing the little hairs that had fallen out of his fringe back with the others, giving him a small smile. "So, Phil, where are you from?"

"Here. Me and my friends got so excited whenever we found out you guys were coming, although one of them couldn't make it, but there's always next time"

"Of course, I'm glad you could make it though. Or else you'd never get to be sat on a bright stage with Q."

"My one true dream, finally come true."

Dan laughs and smiles, "Glad I could make it happen. Tell me Phil, is there anyone special in your life right now?"

Phil smiles a bit and looks down, "I would say you but I haven't even taken you to dinner yet" Phil laughs and shakes his head, "No, but in all seriousness, there's this guy I may or may not be on the verge of asking out."

Both Dan and the crowd collectively go 'ooooo' at the same time. Dan props his elbows on his legs and rests his head on his hands, watching Phil. "Tell me more, we have time"

"Well I'm not going to say anything specific because he always seems to know everything about this band but he's really cute and bisexual, and I'm pretty sure that even if I wasn't gay that I still would've fallen in love with him."

"Awwww!! I wish you and your man, good luck" Dan says and he means it because 'oh my shithole, Phil just indirectly told him that he likes/loves Dan???!??!?!

"Thank you" Phil blushes more and smiles.

"Okay, before I so rudely kick you off my stage, how many people did you come here with?"

"Two of my friends and myself."

"Would two of your friends and yourself like to come backstage after the show to hang out??"

"Yes please"

"Aw, such a gentleman. Okay so go see Bob when you exit the stage and he'll get you those passes. See you later!" Dan smiles to himself and walks up to Phil, kissing his cheek.

/

"These are literally my best friends so don't do stupid things okay?? I'll be hearing all about this tomorrow at school," Dan warns his band members. Todd laughs, "So don't reveal you, show your dick pi-" "I don't take dick pics!" Dan shouts and throws a bottle of water at him, causing it to spill all over Tom and the ground. At this same moment, PJ, Chris, and Phil are all ushered into the room.

David laughs loudly at the situation, "Looks like you have already failed your mission not to embarrass yourself." "At least I don't look like I pissed myself" Dan says and eyes Todd. Todd puts his middle finger up at Dan, "At least I'm not talking about my dick"

"I'll have you know I have a very nice dick"

"No you don't"

"You've seen me naked before you don't have to lie"

"Nah mate, I say that /because/ I've seen you naked"

Dan throws another bottle of water at him and then turns to their guests. "I'm Q, this is David and Todd. Welcome to our humble abode.... er I mean my dressing room."

Chris smiles and steps forward, shaking Dan's hand, "Big fan of your music. Glad to be able to meet you in person."

PJ smiles, "Same for me. I bet it's even better for Phil to meet you, he likes you almost as much as he loves 'Daaaaannn'" Dan hopes no one can see the blush on his cheeks.

Todd walks up and pats Dan on the back, "You've always been popular with the ladies.. and guys too. We have a big LGBT+ audience. I'd say it's a very good thing though, spreading gayness one song at a time."

/

PJ, Chris, and Phil all leave after about 30 minutes because that's the most amount of time that the guards would let them stay. As they leave, they spot Dan's grandma walking around backstage and talking to Bob.

All three of them walk over to her. Chris decides to talk for them, "Mrs. April?? What are you doing here?" She turns around and smiles at the boys, "Oh boys! It's so nice to see all of you! I just came to see the wonderful show!"

"I thought Dan was going to visit you today? He said that's why he couldn't make it to the concert.." Phil says, suddenly confused. PJ then steps up, "Also.. how did you get back here without a backstage pass?"

Mrs. April smiles at them without it wavering at all, "I have to go" she says and walks away, towards the dressing rooms where they can see Q step out and hug her. Just as he goes inside, he slips off his mask, and leaves the other boys at an angle where they couldn't see his face"

/

They all sit in the car, left silent with their thoughts as PJ drives them back to Chris' house. "What if Q is Dan?" Phil asks quietly and Chris laughs. Phil shakes his head at him, "It sounds idiotic but it's possible. Dan's grandma came and hugged Q, Dan told us he couldn't come to see us because he was going to see his grandma, and we already know he can sing and play piano. I'm not reaching very far to conclude this- oh my god I admitted to Dan himself that I'm practically in love with him"

PJ smiles sympathetically, "It's okay Phil. We'll find out- plus anytime you said something about it Q got flustered so if it's true maybe Dan likes you back. I think the best way to find out will be to not ask him about it and let it unfold. I have a plan."

/

That night, the boys went over several plans until they got down the best one that they could think of that should trap Dan into telling them the truth. They decided to go with the plan at lunchtime.

"How was the concert?" Dan asks and Phil smiles. His experience at the concert could be put in the top 3 moments of his life. "Amazing! I got on stage and Q was so hot and cute and he kissed my cheek and I swear it's still burning a hole where his lips touched and we got to go backstage to meet the band!" Phil says excitedly and sits down next to Dan.

PJ and Chris sit down after Phil. "What about you, how was your grandma?" PJ asks and Dan had already guessed that they would ask about her so he was prepared. "She was great actually. Her and my mum talked all night basically and I contributed to about 30% of their conversations. We left her house really late, like 1 or 2."

Chris contorts his face a bit, "So that's why she was at your concert last night? We got to speak to her."

Dan's heart suddenly starts racing really fast, worse than other times. His breathing quickens and the room starts getting smaller. The people talking around him is louder than usual. "I-I've go-tta go-o" he whispers and stands up. The room starts spinning, making it hard for Dan to move. Dan tries to grab onto Phil to break his fall but he completely misses and trips, banging his head against the ground. The last thing Dan remembers before everything going black is the sound of his own sobbing (he doesn't remember crying but he knows it was himself crying), Phil quickly getting on the floor with him, and PJ yelling for a nurse.

/

Dan barely squints his eyes open. He has a cold washcloth on his forehead and he is in his bedroom. Phil is sitting at the end of his bed and Chris and PJ are on the love seat across from his bed. They haven't noticed Dan woke up yet so he decides to listen to their conversation like the sneaky fuck he is, he shuts his eyes once more.

"Gotta say, that guy is really good at what he does. He's gotten this entire thing past us for 3 years and we only just found out because we went to a concert." The voice is definitely PJ.

"I can understand why he would keep it from us, this is a big deal. He obviously just wants to keep his identity a secret so he can live normally. This crossed a big barrier for him, bringing famous life into his normal life. That episode he had was understandable" Phil says and places his hand on Dan's leg.

"I just want him to know that he can trust us, we've known him since we were all in our moms' wombs. This isn't something I would just go and tell someone," Chris adds to the conversation.

Before anyone else speaks, Dan decides to make his way in. "That's good to know" he whispers and sits up a bit in bed and opens his eyes. All three of the boys all snap their heads to look at Dan. "Don't talk, I want to do this myself." They nod and Dan rubs his hands over his face before starting.

"Hello, my name is Daniel James Howell. I am in my last year of schooling before I go to university, if I even do, and I'm also in a band. I am known as Q, the guy with the mask, or the guy with extremely tight jeans in the alternative band, Ripping Ivory. I sing songs and and play piano with my other best friends, Todd Harris and David York. Now, I may be best friends with them, but I have some even closer friends that I go to school with. I didn't tell them about being in a band because I was scared of judgement or them turning on me. I now realize that I can tell them several things that should be told. Also including the fact that I'm in love with my best friend, who I have even written songs about. Which includes the song that I sang for him last night, in front of an arena of people."

They're quiet for a painful amount of time. Dan decides to add onto his speech, "Our first ever concert- it was in Reading at a small diner. Back then my mask was bright red and had black paint marks on it- I still have that one actually. But anyways, at that concert I had only known Todd and David for 2 weeks. Enough time to learn the songs I had made. At the beginning of the first song we song, I had the worst panic attack I've ever had. The diner was packed to the brim and everyone was watching us. Todd and I sat outside for 20 minutes before I could go back inside and we fucking rocked that show! That show was what bonded me and Todd closer and I still think of the things he told me then whenever I get nervous doing a show or even right now. I shouldn't be scared of talking to you guys about anything, so there goes most of my secrets."

"Most?" PJ asks curiously.

"Well do you want a full list of every person I've ever wanked to?"

PJ then shakes his head at the same time as Phil.

Chris smirks, "It'd only be two people. 1. Evan Peters 2. Phil Lester"

Phil shoots Chris a glare. PJ stands up, "Chris, lets give Dan and Phil some time to talk things out. We can go talk to Dan's mum" Chris nods and him and PJ race out of the room and Chris shuts the door behind him.

"D-Did you really write that song about me?" Phil asks with a pink tint to his cheeks. Dan nods and smiles, sitting up all the way and letting Phil come sit next to him. "Who else would I write about having eyes you could swim in? And making my heart do that little flippy over thing" Phil smiles, "Well now you'll have a new song to write about, about taking chances and finding love, a cliche song about the real life Hannah Montana who meets the love of his life. Dannah Montana." They're both silent for a moment, enjoying each other's company.

Dan smiles at Phil and Phil smiles back, "I'm really proud of you Dan" Phil whispers, cuddling into Dan. "I wouldn't of done it without my 3 best friends being the sneakiest shits ever. Now, lets get to the real stuff. You calling Q hot, and 'oh the things you would do if his jeans were off'." Phil blushes and kisses Dan's cheek, "You'll find out those things in a matter of time, just a matter of time dear"