#he got his big break simultaneously in Leverage

[notchainedtotrauma]

Oh, by the way, Aldis Hodge is married and has a little girl. And that wife is puny because apparently "these women are ovaryacting" (if you're wondering where I got that last tidbit, his Sherri Sheppard's interview). He had a fiancee (his current wife) way before he started training for Hawkman, and one year after he started the 9bcollective (my interest in Aldis being about more of his others ventures, that is A. Hodge Ateliers, Hodge Productions, 9bcollective)

[fishdavidson]

2023 State of the Mackerel

Hello fine internet people! The blog portion of my main account has been dormant for quite some time, and I've been wanting to put something here to give the few people who are following me an update. I've also wanted to change a few things on here, so with the end of the year upon us, I wanted to put forward something to help provide some clarity about the blog's past, present, and future.

The Past: Noteworthy Life Events

Since my last official post on here on August of 2021, obviously at least a few notable things have happened in the intervening two years. Here is a quick rundown of the highlights, presented as fake headlines:

Fish Davidson gets over by a minivan and yells swear words

"Guess I'll go back to school," says local internet weirdo

Studies indicate minor promotion at work leads to corresponding minor improvements in life satisfaction

Combining a bunch of words, Fish Davidson writes a book

Yep, tabletop gaming is a thing and it's not going away

Fish Davidson learns to make two sounds at once

Okay, so now that I've hopefully piqued your interest, here's a little bit more detail about each of those items. In November of 2021, I was walking across the street at a crosswalk and was hit by a minivan. The driver wasn't going very fast, but it was enough to break three bones (including my tailbone) and put me on crutches for a while and I needed special orthopedic pillows for my butt for about 18 months. I'm mostly back to normal now, but it was a long road.

The next big thing was that I went back to grad school in an online program. I've been a student for about a year now, and I'm about halfway through the program. Whatever intermittent dreams I would have and wanted to write about have been shoved aside to make time for the seemingly endless papers of graduate work. It's stressful, but I'm glad to be back in school.

Part of the reason for going back to school is because I got a minor promotion at work. Predictably, it came with more responsibilities, but it also came with a little bit more money. I'm going back to school to learn more about things that are related to my job, but also to leverage it into another potential pay raise.

Now we get to the personal creative pursuits of the recent past. I wrote a novel called Power Frank about a superhero whose only power is that he can open any jar. And he has to leverage that power to both overcome family dysfunction and save his desert hometown from being destroyed by malevolent hogs. I'm starting the querying process for agents and hope to have it published eventually!

I also finished up my multi-year Dungeons and Dragons campaign, Shits and Giggles that ran from level 1 to level 20. Several smaller (much smaller) campaigns happened after that. Then Wizards of the Coast did some stupid stuff with their Open Gaming License, and now I've redirected the bulk of my gaming money to provide support for smaller independent creators and lesser known systems. I've really gotten into several OSR systems like Shadowdark, Basic Fantasy, and (if you count these as OSR) Cairn and Knave. Other non-fantasy systems that I'm currently really digging into are Orbital Blues and Mothership. Granted, I don't currently run those games for people yet, but I do like reading the books and seeing different approaches to solving certain mechanical problems. I've also been creating a bunch of random tables for things.

The last important creative pursuit is that of Tuvan throat singing. Tuva is a region in the geographic center of Asia that is known for a style of singing that allows the singer to produce multiple notes simultaneously. I've been fascinated by it for decades and tried off and on to learn it, but this summer I finally made progress and am finally learning how to do it. It takes a lot of practice and making weird sounds, much to the chagrin of my (very patient and supportive) wife.

The Present and Future: Lumped Together For Expediency

I want to write a dream journal and that's what this blog was primarily conceived for. Unfortunately, my dream output has been incredibly fickle and the other demands on my time (professional and academic) make it difficult to report or even remember dreams. Does that mean I'm closing up this blog? Nope! I'm still on tumblr almost every day. But if I'm not able to reliably post dreams on here, what should happen to this blog?

That's the question I've been wrestling with for the past few months. What should I do? Since fishdavidson is my primary blog and I can't easily swap over to a new primary blog to archive my content, I've decided to pivot a little bit. Even outside of tumblr, I use Fish Davidson as my basically my brand (obligatory shoutout to the 1-800 contacts commercial).

So it makes sense to keep using Fish Davidson for personal promotion and creative pursuits. I'm not going to be deleting or moving any of my old posts, but new posts will be relatively rare and limited to mostly things that I create.

However, tumblr lets me create a bajillion different sideblogs for my various interests. I've got several different blogs, all geared toward different interests. Future dream journal entries, if and when they happen, will be published to fishdreams instead of here. Other posts and reblogs will be spread across my various sideblogs. So without further ado, here are

My Various Sideblogs and What They're For

fishdreams - dream journal stuff

fishcrap - various reblogs and anything that I find interesting but outside of the scope of my various side blogs

fishability - for disability awareness stuff

fishrpg - this will be where I post a lot of tabletop RPG stuff. I'm planning on participating in Hexplore24, which is a tiny daily challenge for RPG creation that starts in January.

tuvafish - stuff about throat singing (and maybe even some of my practice sessions) will go here as I find stuff to post (currently empty)

brownstonarmy - probably won't be updated, but if you want to read a novel-length account of the entire Shits and Giggles campaign, here you go!

Thank you all for being such cool people on tumblr, have a great holiday season and new year, and I hope we stay friends on here.

-Fish

[anarcho-occultism]

Tracy Jordan

Tracy Jordan (1966-March 17, 2026) was an American actor and musician active from 1978 until his death. Jordan was born in Yankee Stadium and, owing to both the unusual location and the simultaneous focus on the arrival of the world-eater Galactus by most public officials, was not officially issued a birth certificate. Jordan grew up in the Knuckle Beach neighborhood of the Bronx, which was infamous for high crime rates and general dysfunction. The Cult of Quetzalcoatl regularly abducted sacrifice victims from the neighborhood, a fate which Jordan only narrowly avoided on at least two occasions. Owing to his family’s precarious financial situation, Jordan eventually dropped out of high school and relied on sporadic odd jobs such as acting as a busboy at the legally dubious ‘McDowell’s’ restaurant in Long Island. Jordan longed for bigger things, however, being drawn to acting after a chance encounter with actor Charles Hayden Savage while he was filming an episode of Brazzos. Jordan was able to become a cast member on the short-lived show Ray Ray’s Mystery Garage which aired on IBC from 1978 to 1980. Once the show ended, Jordan became a street performer who specialized in basket drumming for cash on the streets of New York City.

Jordan’s ultimate break would not come until 1984. That year, Jordan heard about the Apollo Theater’s Amateur Night and decided to perform stand-up during it. During the performance, Jordan proved popular with the audience which happened to include prominent comedian Jonathan Crunk. Crunk, viewing Jordan as having potential, took him under his wing and was able to get him his first big breakthrough of adulthood by joining the cast of Studio 60 in the 1987-1988 season. Jordan was a cast member on the show for over a decade, during which he played many notable roles. During the Gulf War and Eugenics Wars, Jordan regularly portrayed General Warren Boutwell giving bombastic and at times derailed press conferences and continued to depict him after Boutwell exited the military to start a restaurant. He also participated in many parodies of the children’s show Mr. Robinson’s Neighborhood, including an infamous sketch where he portrayed the eponymous Robinson vandalizing the setting of My Friendly Neighborhood to reduce completion. Jordan additionally played a camera operator in Studio 60’s infamous Gordy’s Home sketch, which was never aired after the original airing in 1998. Jordan attracted praise for many of his performances and was able to leverage his new status to advance his career further.

Jordan began his music career in this time, intially mainly recording novelty songs in the vein of the late ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic. However, Jordan soon sought to branch away from this. He joined the Lethal Interjection Crew in 1994 but left two years later after a falling out with its leader Thugnificent. Jordan released several rap singles throughout the 1990’s but was never able to release a full album which thus prevented him from earning full-fledged stardom in the world of music. Jordan also acted in several B-movies during this era, including Cleaver II, Who Dat Ninja, Rescue Bay: The Movie, Hard to Watch, Angels With the Filthiest Souls and The Crows Have Eyes, as well as several episodes of the Night Springs revival. Jordan also dabbled in voice acting, primarily in English dubs of Japanese anime series thanks to connections with Japanese production companies he formed while filming Samurai I Amurai. Jordan notably participated in the English dubs of Tinymon, Pink Dark Boy and Mew Mew Kissie Cutie (a performance which was widely panned and Jordan claims was done ‘to buy a vacation house’). Jordan also got married during this time to Angie Shepherd, though initially he refused to acknowledge the marriage to maintain a playboy public image.

In 1999, Jordan expressed disappointment he was stuck with B-movies and comedies and announced he was quitting in favor of directing, announcing his first project would be a serious. biopic of President Douglass Dilman with he himself in the role of the nation’s first African-American president. However production hit snags quickly. Jordan had not asked the Dilman family for permission to make such a film and a spokesman denounced the idea of Jordan making such a movie. He additionally announced his friend Vincent Chase had been cast as a member of Dilman’s Secret Service detail before Chase committed to the role and the two had a falling out when Chase publicly said he had never signed on to the role. The production ground to a halt when his executive producer (who de facto was a second director) Roman Bridger was killed after becoming yet another in the infamous chain of Ghostface murderers. Despite this, Jordan continued to try to go through with the film, pouring much of his own money to salvage it, but in the end His Accidency would never make it to audiences.

Some have suggested the erratic behavior Jordan began displaying in the 2000’s was a result of frustration his more serious artistic intentions were blocked. It has been suggested Jordan’s infamous 2003 trip to Wadiya and public embrace of the nation’s dictator Haffaz Aladeen was a scheme to try to get money from Aladeen to sustain his movie. During the 2001 dot com recession, Jordan expressed a positive attitude towards the infamous Project Mayhem, drawing widespread criticism. Jordan also, on multiple occasions, assaulted paparazzi with various improvised weapons, including a prop from the original Galaxy Wars that Jordan had purchased for $2 million at a charity auction. These controversies caused significant damage to Jordan’s career and by the mid-2000’s, Jordan was nearly bankrupt and struggled to find work. However, he was able to secure a leading role in the sketch comedy series The Girly Show in 2006, which subsequently was rebranded as TGS With Tracy Jordan and took on a renewed life as a program no longer solely targeting a female audience. Jordan did continue to draw controversy–a PSA where he told African-Americans ‘don’t vote’ aired three times before Jordan requested it be taken off the air–but it did enable a greater deal of stability. Jordan was able to have the financial security to pursue a more stable interest in his hobbies such as American history, a passion he picked up after learning of his descent from Thomas Jefferson and his slave Sally Hemmings. He played a crucial role in funding the team that debunked the claims of the so-called ‘Washingtonians’ clan of cannibals that they were descended from George Washington. During Jordan’s time on TGS also involved recurring feuds with co-star Jenna Maroney, though the two would ultimately leave the show on amicable terms. Jordan’s career arguably peaked in this time period as he ultimately became an EGOT winner after winning all 4 of the entertainment industry’s most prestigious awards.

After the conclusion of the show, Jordan once again developed a controversial reputation. After the Awakening of Magic, Jordan would begin to espouse a number of human supremacist sentiments. He would be temporarily banned from The Circle after calling for killing vampire celebrity Lestat de Lioncourt and the expulsion of Prince Krel of Akiridion from Earth after he criticized Jordan’s comments. Jordan also was temporarily arrested after egging Justin Russo following his election as President of the Magical Congress of the United States in 2015. Jordan would announce a presidential bid on a human supremacist–but otherwise rather left-wing–platform in 2016, though he failed to obtain ballot access and was only able to earn status as a write-in in the states of New York, Illinois and Winnemac. Beyond this political drift, Jordan also was dogged by more mundane celebrity scandals. Jordan got into a physical altercation with pop musician Connor4Real in 2014 that led to him being hospitalized with a broken pinkie. His wife’s reality show Queen of Jordan drew controversy for an episode where the Jordans insisted on continuing a California vacation even in the midst of a kaiju attack which was accused of encouraging dangerous behavior by the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps. Jordan did begin to calm down after his personal physician, Dr. Leo Spaceman, was arrested for helping manufacture Substance-D and Jordan revealed Spaceman had been giving him some of the said substance while claiming it was vitalizing medicine, a factor helping drive his erratic tendencies.

Citing a desire for more privacy, Jordan would move to Canada in 2019, where he remained through the COVID-19, Kongoli flu and Alvin virus outbreaks. Jordan was thus not in the US when the President’s Day Massacre occurred and installed David Jefferson Adams as President. Jordan denounced the coup attempt and expressed support for the efforts of the Left Eye and other groups to violently resist the far-right takeover of America, causing a rift between him and his old employer Jack Donaghy (who, while opposed to the coup attempt, favored a strategy of nonviolent resistance). Jordan announced another bid for the presidency in 2024 and gained some traction after the Adams-stacked court disqualified Governor Georgina Hobart from consideration. Jordan announced former Republican Senator Alex Keaton as his running mate and was, surprisingly, allowed to run by the Adams regime, though Adams’ allies within the New Founding Fathers movement likely only did so presuming Jordan’s status as a de facto exile and history of erratic behavior would weaken his chances. Jordan would officially received 12% of the popular vote and won a faithless elector from the state of Vermont who defected and voted for Jordan after another elector was arrested for voting for the state’s socialist former Senator Julian Felsenburgh. Jordan would remain in Canada for the rest of his life, as his poor physical health meant that when a resurgence of the Kongoli flu occurred in 2026, it proved to be a fatal infection. Jordan died on the same die as his TGS co-star Maroney, who also died of Kongoli flu in New York City–in an eerie parallel to Jordan’s ancestor Thomas Jefferson and his rival/friend John Adams.

References

30 Rock, Marvel Comics (The Coming of Galactus, ), Q: The Serpent God, Coming to America, Only Murders in the Building, Scrooged, Carter’s Army, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Star Trek, Undercover Brother, Saturday Night Live, My Friendly Neighborhood, Nope, Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, The Boondocks, The Sopranos, Baywatch, Home Alone, Schitt’s Creek, Alan Wake, Johnny Test, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Undertale, The Man, Entourage, Scream, The Dictator, Fight Club, iCarly, Masters of Horror, Shadowrun, Interview With The Vampire, 3Below, Wizards of Waverly Place, Harry Potter, Works of Sinclair Lewis, Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping, Pacific Rim, A Scanner Darkly, The End of October, The Sadness, The Handmaid’s Tale, Shattered Union, Sorry to Bother You, The Politician, Family Ties, The Purge, Lord of the World

[blackbat05]

I need a break

Shangqi x Reader (Platonic) 

A/N: I feel like I’m loosing steam towards the end of my placement and wow I have never needed a break this badly before. Perhaps a short Shangqi x Reader imagine where they are both University students. Seriously at this rate I’ll just be solely a Shangqi writer HAHAHA. Doing this on my phone because I don’t want to open my work computer. Let’s see where this impromptu idea takes me to. Hope you enjoy it and as always like and comment if you wish!

Genre: PG-13

Warnings: None really, just friends supporting each other! I guess there’s an inaccurate timeline if you look at the MCU but hey this is an imagine plus if you look at some of the wiki pages, Shangqi is actually born in 1998/1999. So appreciate if you’re kind enough to go with the flow to read this comfort fic! 

‘Y/N!’ Shangqi rushes to catch up with you after class. You made an effort to conceal your tiredness but he saw it right through. ‘Gosh…you alright?’

You think to yourself. Were you really alright? The answer was pretty obvious. You were ten weeks into your placement and your emotions were a jumbled up mess. Having to deal with work responsibilities was one problem, school assignments were another issue all together. At this point, you felt like you were just getting through each week for the sake of it.

At first, you believed that what you were going through was simply a transition to becoming an adult. You thought that naturally, you would be able to persevere through the stressful periods by yourself. But of course, it has been hard.

You were a social work intern at a neighborhood youth centre, thirty minutes away if you took the train and bus. The work was fulfilling in it’s own ways, but recently there were self-doubts filling your brain, if you were really cut out for the job in the future. If you weren’t, what else could you do?

As you sat with Shangqi in the school’s student-ran cafe, you found yourself pouring out the exact same concerns to him. Credit to him, Shangqi never interrupted your monologue, he just simply listened. That’s what best friends were for. That’s what you did for him to when he ran into issues with his family.

Even then, he couldn’t deny that hearing you doubt yourself broke his heart. He had known you since high school. You mostly kept to yourself and one or two close friends. Despite joining the school’s athletic team where you were one of the main athletes, you preferred to stay in the shadows unlike some of your teammates. That didn’t stop you from going out of your way to help other students in need; like helping the girl who was in an arm cast to copy the social studies notes, even if it meant you had to do it twice. Or maybe just talking to a friend who was stressed out about their results.

Basically, you had studied your ass off to get a secured spot at this university who were only one of the few that offered the degree. He remembers you telling him the moment you got your offer, ‘I’m finally good at something. I don’t have to worry anymore!’

Shangqi wasn’t stupid. The pandemic had done some crazy things. And by crazy, it affected the self-esteem that you had been working so hard on by participating in various projects and events, with you being in charge of a drama production that was promoting on mental health. That was a big deal considering that you were a major introvert.

Online engagement was never easy. In fact he has heard some of your struggles that you’ve shared with him regarding this and it only makes him admire you even more. For someone who preferred to keep to themselves, stepping out of one’s comfort zone, to take on a role that wasn’t just simply about helping people - that took guts.

‘I’m sorry I’m just loading you with all this. I just feel…’ You trailed off, suddenly becoming emotional again. Again, Shangqi does not pry. ‘That I can’t do anything right.’ You emphasize that you had ended the statement for you were unsure that you could keep your cool if you had tried to continue on.

‘If I hear you saying sorry another time,’ he chides, ‘you’re paying for our meal later.’ Your lips curved upwards slightly before returning to its somber position. Shangqi decides that a meal won’t cut it. He needs to deploy ‘Operation Y/N’. Standing up with your buzzer to collect the food, Shangqi whips out his phone. There will be a few changes for today.

Food was definitely a cure in this situation, but it was only a part of the solution. After inhaling your ramen at light speed, Shangqi tells you that today will be a different Friday. ‘And you can’t complain! It’ll be a weekend tmr,’ he tells you. So why not? You figured that even if you went back home early, your head wouldn’t be in the right place to complete the essay for your English module.

‘Hold up! The VR studio that Katy was talking about?’ You look at the tickets inside the taxi that was taking you and Shangqi to the location. ‘How did you even, it was so hard to get these tickets!’ From the time Shangqi met you outside the classroom, he had yet to see you so ecstatic. Until now.

‘Well,’ Shangqi gives his best shrug. ‘I called in a favor from a friend. Said that it was for emergency purposes.’ He raised his fingers to make connotations in the air much to your amusement.

‘Wow… just how much do I not know about you Mr Popular?’ You teased. Shangqi decides to leave the fact on him having to persuade the Wakandan Princess in giving him free tickets.

‘Please! I swear whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it! It’s for Y/N!’

‘Ey well why didn’t you say so? If it’s for that nice friend, of course!’ Shuri leaves the entrance of the compound, an exasperated Shangqi trailing behind.

Yeah, the VR studio that Katy told them about was also funded by King T’Challa himself. With stunning life like visuals thanks to Wakandan technology, the VR studio was located in a middle class neighborhood. T’Challa believed that no matter where kids came from, they should have the right to enjoy and to explore the world. For now, he wasn’t ready to share that he was on the way on becoming a full-fledged Avenger yet - you just had too much on your plate. He’ll just have to settle with this white lie.

‘Is Katy coming?’ You were on the verge of vibrating off your seat. ‘She would love this place!’ Even when you were struggling, Y/N still manages to think about other people. Today, Y/N will put her needs first.

As if to answer your previous question, you can see an equally excited Katy waiting for the two of you at the roundabout. ‘HEL-LO EVERYONE! LET’S GET OUR FRIDAY STARTED IN PROPER SHALL WE?’ Her loud voice had attracted stares, some very displeased looks too but at this point in time, you didn’t give a damn. Katy was right, it was time to enjoy!

You wished that you could slow down time, or even replay it continuously when you needed cheering up because the only thing you felt was pure happiness - euphoria even. Your stomach was in knots for laughing hysterically together with Katy when Shangqi jumped in shock from a surprise scare from a zombie. ‘I’m keeping that for leverage,’ she tells you, quietly slipping her phone into her fanny pack. 

The Wakandans had really outdone themselves this time. Your favorite VR was the paradise VR. Slipping the headgear, you say goodbye to the smiles of Katy and Shangqi, whisking away to a beach that oddly reminded you of your dream destination - Hawaii. From where you were standing, you were surrounded by green and majestic islands. Despite their sheer size, you weren’t intimidated. In fact, you were healing. 

Your mind was no longer in the room of the VR studio. How could it when the sun kissed your skin, giving you the much needed energy that you were lacking for so long? In the room, the two sees you kick your shoes to the side, going barefoot. It may have seem strange, but with the monitor beside you, your actions were perfectly logical. 

As a kid, you used to despise the prickly feeling of sand in between your toes. But now, you grew to love the sensation that each grain of sand had on your skin. It made you feel grounded, that everything was going to be ok. You raise your virtual hand to touch your face - were you crying? 

‘She must have been really stressed huh?’ Katy whispers to Shangqi who nods in return. How he hated the fact that you were giving so much to your work but still felt underappreciated. Forget the Avengers with superhuman abilities, you were the true MVP. The VR ends and you remove your headgear. ‘I’m ok,’ you automatically reassure them despite the dry tears left on both cheeks. You step down the platform slowly, trying to regain sense of the real world. 

What you didn’t expect was the two embracing you in a hug, squishing you in between them. Maybe that had set off the waterworks. For someone like Katy, she had sage advice.

‘Life can be pretty shitty right? But I’m so proud of you fighting it Y/N. Just remember that it’s ok to be weak. I mean, I’ve seen worse from Shangqi,’ she jabs her finger towards his direction, earning a glare from him. That’s Katy, always trying to add a bit of humor to this grey world. Calming down, you let go of the both of them. ‘Thanks guys, for everything.’ 

‘Hey,’ Shangqi responds, slinging his arm over your shoulder. ‘We’re friends, so we don’t leave each other behind.’ Phone beeping, he retrieves it to check the message. ‘And look at that, nice timing. Who wants Korean BBQ?’ 

Trailing behind them, you get an amusing view of Shangqi bickering with Katy on how many Soju bottles she’s allowed to order later. As San Francisco welcomed the night, you were just thankful that you had the two of them to walk through this crazy maze called life. 

‘Last one to the shop is paying!’ 

‘Oh you’re on Mister!’  

A/N: I really just think that this was also an imagine for me to cope too. So I can only hope to finish my placement/assignments/exams well! To anyone who does studies and work simultaneously, I fucking respect you (allow me to use expletives for now, these people deserve the respect). If you’re going through a stressful time, I hope this brings the slightest comfort for you and remember… YOU ARE NOT ALONE! Again, thank you for reading! 

[ri-ahhh]

Can we have some sexy time with gray that stars out rough but ends up soft and cute🥺

I’m gonna make it a continuation of this concept bc low key it’s one of my faves and yk.. why not.

Also I was gonna try to finish this on my laptop so I could put the keep reading break so I don’t clog ppls dashes but tumblr never fucking works on there and I couldn’t do it :/ sorry

A/N: hi hello just finished writing this and it turned out to be garbage but I wanted to post something for the ppl asking. If you are one of those ppl I’m sorry for this haha truly it was just the best I could do for now.

***

For the first half of the ride home, Grayson’s hand doesn’t leave your thigh. You can feel the tension still brewing in him in the way his calloused fingers grip the soft, bare skin; in the heavy sighs he releases every few minutes and the sudden revs of the engine as he speeds down the highway.

His lingering frustrations at the situation that happened in the mall make you smile softly, and you interlace your fingers with the ones stroking your thigh. Eyes big and sympathetic, you bring the back of his hand to your lips. “Baby, relax,” your murmur against his skin quietly. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Grayson shakes his head and glances at you as he pulls your joined hands into his lap. “I fuckin hate guys like that. Can’t believe he put his hands on you.”

“He touched you?” Ethan piped up from the backseat, voice incredulous. “Oh, fuck that. If that has been K...”

The short remainder of the car ride was filled with the twins loud, enthusiastic rants about douchebag chauvinistic men who have no respect for women. It warms your heart, makes your chest fill with pride at the thought of how good your man really is. You squeeze his hand and stroke his arm gently, dragging your nails up and down the veins popping out from the stress and anger he’s both somehow releasing, but also still carrying.

The three of you make it home, and Ethan is immediately hopping out of the car with his shopping bags, eager to see his girlfriend and show her what he had bought her while she had been out with friends. Grayson’s jaw is clenched as the two of you follow his brother inside, and you make your way immediately to his room; you think you know exactly what he needs to get rid of that last bit of well-intended machismo energy he’s got in him.

Sure enough, Grayson shuts the door behind him with a little more force than he really intended, tosses all the shopping bags he had carried in for you to the ground, and wraps those strong arms around your waist in all of two seconds of the door being locked. You giggle and let him hoist you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands gently to bring your lips together.

He walks the two of you to his bed and lays you down as gently as he can while you’re still clinging to him, mouths never separating as he captures your lips over and over again in hot, relentless kisses. When your back hits the mattress, you moan softly and hitch your leg higher up his side, his hand sliding to your ass and grabbing a handful of it through your shorts.

“I need you,” he says gruffly between kisses, panting heavily. He squeezes your cheek again, and uses his grip to haul your hips closer to his while simultaneously lowering some of his weight onto you. You can feel the hard ridge of him against your center, and it makes you gasp. “Can I, please?”

“Yeah, baby,” you agree easily, almost as desperate for Grayson now as he is for you. He’s sexy and kind and good and you love him, and you imagine the scenario of some girl running her hands on those thick arms you love so much, or the swell of his abs over his shirt, and you realize the healthy possessiveness very much runs both ways. Your blood runs hot, and you slip your hands under his shirt to feel the rippling planes of his back. “Want you so bad.”

He growls, deep and primal, and you bite your lip as he sits up and whips his shirt over his head by the collar. It gets tossed blindly to the corner of his room, and you’re instantly reaching out to run your hands over all those muscles covered by soft, tan skin.

Grayson sighs and lets you indulge for a few moments, his lips quirking up at the corners for a quick second and ruining that sexy scowl as he watches you admire him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. His big, warm hands cup your hips, and he shuffles down some as he slides your oversized shirt up so your stomach becomes exposed for him — supple skin that’s just begging to be kissed.

So he does. His lips are soft and a little wet from the kisses you had shared just a minute ago, but they’re hot and insistent as he makes his way up your torso. Goosebumps flare in their wake, and you shudder beneath his smirk. Grayson pushes your shirt up further, just beneath your bra now, fingers shifting grips from the dips of your waist to the ridges of your rib cage now.

You don’t need words to know what he wants, so you lift your arms overhead the second he bunches the shirt up past your tits. His tongue drags over your sternum once it’s thrown across the room, then he’s swiping it over the buds of your nipples peaking through the sheer mesh of your bra.

Your back arches up into him with a gasp, fingers delving into his thick hair as he grunts and tugs the cups of your bra aside to free your tits for him. Your nipples tighten even more, damp from his tongue and now completely exposed to the cool air of his room — not to mention, the way he’s looking at you right now has every nerve ending in your body excited.

His pretty hazel irises, usually so soft and comforting, are consumed now by the dark of his pupils, despite the warm sunlight shining through the window. Those smoldering eyes stay locked on yours as he ducks his head to suck your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth, his hand kneading your other breast roughly.

“Love your tits,” he huffs against you after a minute of making you writhe beneath him. His tongue trails to the center of your chest, and he nuzzles your cleavage, breathing in the sweet smell of your skin. His stubble scratches against the plush, delicate flesh there, but it’s a mere second before he’s switching breasts to give each the opposite treatment.

You lose his eyes when he shuts them to really absorbe the touch and taste of you, but you don’t mind when he smells so good and feels so familiar and uses those lips and tongue and fingers so fucking good. You whimper and clutch him even closer to you than he already is, perfectly content to have him suck at your tits for as long as he pleases. The feel of him big and heavy and warm on top of you is as relaxing as it is arousing, being so consumed by the sensations of him up top while his erection fits snugly against your pussy.

“Grayson,” you whisper desperately. He looks up at you, and you’re taken by the softness behind the desire in his gaze. He follows the tug on his hair you give to drag him up for a kiss, and you both sigh happily into one another’s mouths when they reconnect. It goes without saying that you could kiss this man forever.

You tighten your legs around his waist and and urge him to rock his hips into yours. Grayson obliges readily, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as he starts grinding into you. His hand returns to your ass, holding you against him for the perfect leverage while he sucks on your tongue and tries to find the right angle to put just the right pressure on your clit.

It’s like any moment of softness and slowness gives him time to remember what got the two of you here this afternoon in the first place, and the ravenous energy from before picks right back up. You’re definitely not complaining by the ebb and flow of everything; it only heightens your own desperation for him, to know he cares so much and wants you to the point of making you cum just from some heavy dry humping.

As if he can read your mind (or maybe you his), Grayson pulls away from the kiss and drags his free hand up your thigh, squeezes your waist, and punches your nipple on his way to grip your cheeks gently but firmly in those strong, calloused fingers. He makes sure you’re looking him dead in the eye again when he tells you in a deep, rumbly voice, “Wanna make you cum in these fucking shorts. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nod as best you can in his grasp, shifting your head enough to slip his pointer finger into your mouth. You watch him watch you suck it, his hips pressing harder into yours as the pleasure and overall arousal turns up for both of you. His cheeks are flushed and his chain dangles between you, glinting in the sun and reflecting bright spots on the tan skin of his pecs.

A moan escapes you, vibrating around his finger before you add the middle one for a few moments, too. You let him push them down your tongue until the tips touch the back of your throat, and you pull them out with a slight gag and a seductive smile.

“Make me cum,” you murmur hotly, guiding his hand between your bodies and slipping it past your waistband — leaving the shorts with that little logo on the leg on, just as he requested. “I’m so close already, Gray. Please.”

Grayson moans himself and shifts his weight so you’re flat on your back and he’s hovering over you with a hand planted next to your pillow. He touches your pussy for the first time this whole afternoon just as you arch your back to reach beneath you and unhook your bra.

You fling the useless garment across the room and grab immediately onto his forearm by your head, the other clutching the sheets in attempts to ground yourself from the sudden surge in pleasure emanating from your clit. Grayson circles it a couple of times before sliding one, then two, fingers to the hilt.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet, baby,” he groans. You can only nod and moan, then cry out his name when he curls his fingers just right and finds your spot, like he knew right where to look and wanted to waste no time getting to it. He latches onto your neck, sucking a bruise into your pulse point while he builds that wave inside you. His fingers don’t pump in and out, but stay hooked on that spot that’s making you moan and whine, using his wrist to vary the pressure on it until you’re absolutely losing it, exploding on his hand with broken whimpers of his name.

You’re still high in the sky when he sucks his fingers in his mouth with an appreciative moan and tugs off your shorts finally, then his own, before crawling back on top of you. Naked together and still riding the lingering aftermath of that orgasm, you hum contentedly and accept the hot, desperate kiss he pulls you into.

“Wanna fuck you. Need to fuck you,” he mumbles against your lips, already reaching between you to rub the tip of his dick up and down your soaking wet folds. Even though you’re still sensitive and satisfied, almost nothing can bring you back to a stare of pure arousal like when he teases your hole like that — so close but not enough. It awakens this primal, incessant feeling of absolutely needing to be filled up, and you can’t wait anymore.

You thread your fingers through the back of his hair and arch your hips to encourage him to slip inside, which he finally does with a guttural groan.

“Fuckin give it to me, Gray,” you say once he has a steady rhythm built up. It’s not enough for either of you today, though, and you both know it. You need closer, hotter, harder, more.

Grayson looks wild, his hair sticking up in all directions from your wandering hands, eyes dark but bright, a thin sheen of sweat illuminating ever ridge and valley of muscles on his torso. He doesn’t give you much more time to look, however, as he hooks your knees over his elbows and leans down over your body.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he tucks his face against your own as he starts pounding, his balls slapping against you ass with every hard thrust. The angle is catching you just right and the sharp, pleasurable pain of his teeth sinking into your collarbone only brings everything to a new level. His quiet but audible grunts and moans float right to your ear, the best sounds in the world as he delivers exactly what you asked for.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whine, digging your nails into the sinews of his back. Grayson keeps driving into you with renewed purpose, absolutely set on getting you there again with nothing more than his cock.

“Yes, baby, please,” he begs, groaning loudly when he feels you start to clamp down on him. “That’s it... all over my dick... pussy feels so goddamn good.”

You should be sleepy and beyond satisfied at this point, but his heated words make you want to absolutely ravage him. With that, there’s the glow only a couple of amazing orgasms from the man you love can make you feel that fills your chest. So when you’re able to voluntarily move your limbs again, you push back on his chest so he has to stop sucking sweet little kisses into the collumn of your neck. He looks at you a little confused, but you just smile gently and keep putting pressure against him until he ends up on his back.

You settle between his tattooed legs and admire the way his dick lies flat against that solid tummy of his, glistening with your juices. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you take him in your hand to guide his throbbing length between your kiss-swollen lips.

You suck your cum off his skin, humming in satisfaction while you watch him lay back with one hand behind his head and the other petting your hair gently.

“Love your dick,” you say before sucking the leaking tip into your mouth. “Only want yours, baby. Just made me cum so hard...” you trail off with a wanton moan, then get to work sucking him off for real. His eyes fall shut and his fingers work deeper into the loose strands of your hair for a firmer grip. You roll his balls in your palm, pulling out all the tricks you know he loves to get him there as well as he did for you. “Mine.”

He guides you deeper with the hand on your head, never pushing more than he know you’re willing to take; he loves the tangible feeling of that sweet mouth sucking him off, taking him as far down your throat as you can. You make it sloppy for him, letting all the drool and saliva coat his shaft until it’s dripping down his balls. You lift off him with a gasp and massage the slick into his skin before ducking down and sucking them one at a time into your mouth for a tongue bath while you jerk his dick off above you.

You can hear the hitch in his breath, see the short heaves of his chest when you follow the pressure he pulls on your hair in silent request to get you to suck him again. All signs point to him being about to bust, but you want more than his cum in your mouth.

You hurry to mount him, smiling when you catch his look of surprise. He moans as you sink down on him, and you pick up his hands to interlace your fingers for intimacy and leverage.

“Cum inside me,” you tell him, bouncing on him so your tits jiggle for him.

Grayson watches as long as he can, holding out until his eyes roll back and his fingers dig into the backs of your hands as he fills you up with deep, drawn-out moans. You grin in satisfaction, happily obliging him when he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down so your chests are flush together.

You hum as he comes down and pepper kisses across his jaw, his nose, his closed eyes. Any bit of that handsome face you love so much that you can reach with your lips gets a sweet peck. Grayson sighs and lets you keep going until he’s gripping your hips and lifting you off his softening cock.

“Sorry if I got too caveman,” he mumbles tiredly after a few moments. “I just love you.”

You shake your head and bury your grin into his neck. “No need to apologize. Actually, I can’t wait to go back to that store with you. I still want those leggings.”

“Fuck off.”

[jamiemackenziefraser]

The Set Up

Summary: College students and best friends Claire and Jamie are secretly dating. While back at home for a break, they go on a getaway to a lakehouse with their friends. Shenanigans ensue when Geillis and the others become determined to set Claire up with Frank. Unable to dissuade her without giving away her secret, Claire is forced to play along... much to Jamie’s dismay.

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I couldn’t help but stare at Jamie as we all piled out of Dougal’s van. It had been a long trip to the Mackenzie lakehouse (especially interminable for me since I had been squashed between Angus and Rupert in the back), and Jamie was stretching his long limbs in the open space of the driveway. His shirt rode up as he lifted his arms, revealing a delicious strip of smooth skin at his belly and giving me a tease of his remarkable abs. His red curls gleamed in the sunlight, framing his face in a soft halo of bronze. I wanted nothing more than to jump over Rupert and throw myself into my boyfriend’s arms and kiss the living daylights out of him. 

But the problem was that he wasn’t just my boyfriend. He was a secret boyfriend. 

Our relationship had progressed from best friends to much more than friends after we had gone away to university together. While we were free to flaunt our love on campus, things were much more complicated back home. Jamie’s parents put enormous pressure on him not to date and to focus on his studies, and would be even more appalled to learn he was with a Sassenach. To make matters worse, Jamie’s father, Brian, had major beef with my Uncle Lamb. All of this was the perfect storm to make telling our families nearly impossible for the moment. So, we had decided to keep our relationship a secret while back at home-- even to our childhood friends (who we knew wouldn’t be able to keep their gabs shut). 

After all, how hard could it be to hide things for a little while? 

I broke myself out of my longing for Jamie and walked to the back of the van to retrieve my duffle. I dove fearlessly into the precariously packed trunk, filled to the brim with supplies (and booze) for the weekend. I was working to extricate my bag from under a layer of other junk when a familiar, solid body pressed behind me and reached around me to pluck my bag from the mess. 

“Here, lass,” Jamie’s voice rumbled in his chest, and I could feel it against my back. I couldn’t help the tiny gasp that fell from my lips. 

“Thanks,” I murmured demurely, taking the offered bag from his hand. 

Before I could turn toward the cabin where the rest of our friends were crowding the door-- which Dougal was seemingly struggling to unlock-- Jamie’s arm wrapped around my waist and kept me pressed to his front. 

He leaned down, and his lips brushed against the shell of my ear as he whispered, “ye look verra bonny wi’ yer wee tank top and shorts.” 

I turned myself in his grip so I was facing him, suddenly thankful for the protection of the car hiding us from view. 

I gave him a playful smirk, and as I freed myself from his arms, I said playfully, “thank you, friend James. But if you keep that up, everyone will end up getting an eyeful.” I gave him a wink, and then turned my back to him to walk up to the front door, knowing full well that his gaze was fixed on my ass. 

“Damn door,” Dougal was cursing as I approached. 

Angus was wrestling the key away from him, taking his turn to try his hand at unlocking the house. 

“Dougal, I swear, if we hafta drive all the way back because ye cannae even get into yer own cabin...” Geillis was starting in on her boyfriend. 

“Can I try?” I asked an unsuccessful Angus, who was cursing up a storm in Gaelic which I assumed were rather unkind sentiments aimed at the doorknob. 

I had just tried and failed when Jamie reached us. 

“Alright, lad, yer the last one who hasna tried this damnable thing,” Dougal grumbled. 

Jamie obliged, but found no success either. I set my duffle down in dismay. It seemed a bad omen for the trip that it hadn’t even begun and we had already been defeated by a faulty lock. 

At that moment, Frank walked around from the side of the house, running a hand through his short, dark hair. 

“The mechanism must be jammed,” he said, his accent crisp and prim as ever, “but there’s a window unlocked in the back. Shall we check it out?” 

My friends all exchanged a look, and we nodded simultaneously, at a loss for anything else to try. 

We walked around the back of the cabin and looked up at the window. It was small, and well off the ground. I found myself swallowing in dismay. 

Dougal-- ever the unelected (and often unwanted) leader of the group-- was quick to take charge. 

“Alright, this is a two man job. Jamie, yer the tallest, so ye’re on bottom of course. Anyone fancy gettin’ hoisted through a window?” 

We all looked at each other in silence, exchanging wide-eyed looks of “not me.” 

Jamie was not having it though. He stepped toward the window and turned to fix his blue gaze directly on me. 

“Alright, lass, ye’re the smallest. Ready to take a wee trip through the windae?” 

I rolled my eyes but stepped forward obligingly. I knew exactly why Jamie had called me out, and it wasn’t because of my petite frame. The man was eager for any excuse to put his hands on me. 

He tilted his head down and gave me a little smirk. 

“Hold on, Sassenach.”

With that, big hands were around my waist and lifting me off my feet. I let out a little squeal of surprise as I was suddenly hoisted into the air as if I weighed nothing. 

I quickly got with the program, though, and reached up for the window. I fumbled with the bottom, trying to push it upward so I could climb in. 

I felt myself moving and thought for a second that I was falling, but Jamie was just settling me to sit on his shoulder. I breathed a sigh of relief and used my new secure position to leverage the window open. 

“In ye go, lass,” came Jamie’s voice from below me. 

His hands went from my waist down to my hips, and suddenly he was shoving me up and toward the window. 

I caught the ledge and pushed myself through, all but diving into the opening. 

But instead of sailing through, I landed on my stomach with an “oof” and found myself caught halfway through the window. 

There were various chuckles as Jamie obligingly placed both hands on my butt and pushed. I tumbled through the window and landed on the floor with a thud that made all the breath leave my lungs. I lay on the floor stunned for a second, fighting to regain my breath. 

“Ye alright, lass?” Dougal called. 

I groaned and sat up. I hauled myself up and poked my head through the window. 

“Just fine,” I grumbled, “I’m going to open the door.” 

I crossed the room to the front door, listening to the stomping feet outside running around the cabin. I unlocked it and whipped open the door. I made a grandiose gesture with my arm to welcome them to the house, and they all applauded. Taking my role as doorman seriously, I held it open as each of my friends-- Dougal and Gellis, Angus and Rupert, Frank, and finally Jamie-- came through. Jamie, on his way in, gave me an owlish blink that passed for a wink, and I had to stifle a laugh. 

I was interrupted out of my thoughts by a shout from Angus. 

“Oi! Dougal. Ye call this a lakehouse? I thought yer family was rich?” 

The cabin indeed was sparse… to say the least. The main room, which functioned both as a kitchen and living room, was covered in a fine layer of dust. The two couches seemed cozy though, and the kitchen was equipped, other than the fact that the sink was missing a faucet and one of the kitchen chairs had a leg broken off. The hardwood floors were mostly intact. Off to the side was a single hallway that led to the bathroom and the three bedrooms.   

It would do. 

Everyone began to separate-- making to explore and claim bedrooms. 

It was quickly divided that Geillis and I would bunk together, Dougal and Frank, and finally, Jamie would be stuck with Rupert and Angus. I gave him a little smirk and then a sympathetic pout as he followed behind the two boys to set their stuff in the shared room. 

Geillis grabbed my hand, and dragged me into ours. 

As soon as we had gotten settled in, Geillis plopped herself down on the bed we’d be sharing and then rolled onto her back so she was looking up at me from her upside-down position. 

“Soooo, Claire, darling…” she said in a sing-songy coo. 

I rolled my eyes. “What Geillis?” 

“Who are ye gonna hook up wi’ this trip?” 

I started to laugh, but it turned into a choke, and I gasped for air in disbelief. I felt my cheeks flushing. 

“What the hell do you mean?” I stuttered out as I willed my cheeks to calm down. 

“Ye’re the only single girl on this trip wi’ loads of guys, duh,” Geillis rolled her eyes, and then rolled herself over to her stomach and propped her chin on her crossed arms in front of her.

“Listen, my beautiful prudish friend. Dougal and I have been talkin’...” 

“Do you speculate on my love life often?” I asked in a poor attempt to deflect. I was starting to feel some discomfort pricking at the back of my spine. Did she somehow know about me and Jamie? 

“We’ve been thinkin’,” she started again, looking at me with raised eyebrows that dared me to interrupt, “you and Frank would make a verra fine pair.” 

Several emotions rushed through me at the same time. First was relief that she didn’t actually know about me and Jamie and our secret was safe. The second was disgust. The thought of Frank and I together almost made me want to laugh in her face. Finally, my brain added just a bit of panic to the mix, because I would have to tell her “no” without arousing any suspicion. 

“I don’t think so…” I chuckled dubiously. I shook my head as an involuntary blush warmed my cheeks.  

Geillis sat straight up, bouncing on her knees on the bed, and tugged on my arm with both hands. 

“Claaaaire,” she whined.

“I’m just not into him, Geil.” 

She fixed me with cold green eyes. “That lad is fiiine,” she purred, “and he looks at ye like ye’re the bloody queen herself. He’s always carried a torch for ye. Why will ye no’ give him a try?” 

“I just-” I started to protest, but Geillis cut me off. 

“Give me one good reason why ye dinna want tae be wi’ Frank, and I’ll leave ye alone. But… If ye keep givin’ me these weak-ass excuses, I’m settin’ ye up.” 

Panic rushed through my veins. I wished I could press pause on the whole situation and go talk with Jamie. My mind was racing, trying to come up with any excuse other than the truth. But my traitorous brain couldn’t come up with a single thing. 

I opened my mouth, and then closed it again, looking at my friend helplessly. 

With Jamie’s pleas to keep this a secret for a little while longer ringing in my mind, I made a split-second decision. 

“Fine. Set us up.” 

***

Apparently Geillis version of “setting us up” was forcing me into situations where I was alone with Frank as much as possible. 

“Oh bloody feckin’ hell!” Geillis exclaimed, looking in her bag, “I must have left my chapstick all the way out in the car. Claire, darling,” she turned to me where I was sitting at the kitchen table, “will ye go get it for me?” 

“Sure!” I said, standing up and reaching for the offered keys. 

“Oh, but it’s saaae dark out there. A wee lass like yerself shouldnae go alone. Frank, would ye be a dear and see Claire safe?” 

Frank gave a smile, also standing from his spot on the couch. “Of course,” he said, flashing his most handsome smile toward me. 

I was aware that some (perhaps even many) women in our town were head-over-heels for him, finding him dashing. But as he offered an arm, the only thing I felt was annoyance. 

The whole group was observing this, and a few childish “ooohs” emanated from where Rupert and Angus sat by the fireplace. I rolled my eyes. 

Jamie suddenly appeared from the next room, drawn by the small ruckus. 

“What’s-” he started to ask what was going on. 

Geillis, looking incredibly proud of her match-making work, announced, “Oh, Claire and Frank were jus’ goin’ out together tae grab somethin’ from the car for me.” 

Jamie— processing the scene before him as well as Geillis’ words— suddenly tensed, and his eyes flashed. Jamie had a very good poker face, and I doubted anyone noticed but me, but I knew him well enough to know jealous anger when I saw it. His blue eyes held a look of contempt aimed at the dark-haired Englishmen who was still holding out his arm toward me. 

“I’d be happy to go get it fer ye instead, Geil,” Jamie tried. 

It was a valiant effort to save me, I thought. But he severely underestimated the power of Geillis’ match-making efforts. 

“Nae, nae, Claire and Frank would be happy tae do it. But thanks, lad. Off ye go now, ye two.” 

I gave Jamie a covert look of helpless dismay and watched as he slumped in defeat. I felt a similar reluctance as I took Frank’s offered arm and we walked together outside. 

The door shut behind us, and the safety of Jamie’s presence-- and everyone else’s-- slipped away. 

“So,” Frank said, “it seems Geillis has it on her mind that we’d make a good couple.” 

I laughed. “Seems that way.” 

A nervous bubble was forming in my stomach. 

“As does everyone else…” he said. It seemed he was trying to lead me toward something. 

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stayed silent, lips pressed firmly together. 

Frank seemed to take that as shyness, because he stepped closer to me as we walked down the driveway, and then grew even bolder. 

“I have to say, I’m inclined to agree with them,” he purred. 

His words rang in my ears as panic gripped me. My throat felt dry and scratchy, and I had no idea how to answer him. Why hadn’t I fought Geillis harder on this? 

Frank suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. 

“You’re beautiful, Claire,” he announced. He said it was such finality, it was as if he expected me to throw myself at him in gratitude for the compliment. As if him saying it somehow sealed the deal that I should feel something for him. 

I mustered a “thanks,” and then quickly scurried toward the van. 

I unlocked it and threw myself into the passenger's seat before Frank could say anything else to me. I rooted around in the glove compartment until I found Geillis’ chapstick, cursing both it and her under my breath. I wished that I could just run inside to Jamie, grab his hand, and drag him outside with me. 

But that wasn’t in the cards for us just now. So, accepting my fate, I hopped out of the van to face Frank again. 

He was waiting patiently for me next to the van. Apparently he was taking his job of protecting me from all the late-evening attackers (ha!) because he was looking around as if he was really surveying the area for dangers to protect me from. 

He offered his arm, and I reluctantly took it again. 

Frank was a good guy. He was my friend. I didn’t want to be terribly mean to him. Even more, I didn’t want to endure another grilling session from Geillis about why I didn’t like him. I would just have to play along for the weekend. Suck it up, Beauchamp. 

Frank was blessedly quiet on our way back in, and before I knew it, we were once again inside the cabin and in the protection of the presence of others. 

Little did I know that the “others” would actually provide very little protection, and would more be terrible influences and orchestrators of putting me in situations I didn’t want to be in. 

*

I wished I could talk to Jamie and explain what the hell was going on, but there wasn’t really an opportunity in the small cabin to get him alone without raising suspicion. 

For the thousandth time this trip, I wished that I could throw myself at Jamie and feel his arms wrapped around me, hugging me close. I imagined what would happen if I got up at that very moment, walked around the room, and sat down on Jamie’s lap. My mind fantasized about how Jamie would pull me close and kiss me in front of everyone, and then allow me to snuggle into him and lay my head on his shoulder as the guys told their stories. 

But that wasn’t the way things were just yet. 

The group had just had dinner and was settling down in front of the fireplace on the couches. Anticipating all the alcohol we were about to drink, we’d whipped up a bucketload of spaghetti on the rickety stove and wolfed it down. Then, the drinks were broken out, and the festivities moved to the living room. 

I was sitting next to Geillis nursing a beer and wondering to myself why anyone ever drank the foul stuff. I cursed myself for letting Rupert and Angus be in charge of the booze selection. 

All of a sudden, Geillis, in her typical dramatic fashion, shot to her feet. 

“Oh Frank,” she called across the room to the dark-haired man who was leaning against the wall, “come take my spot. Next to Claire.” 

Geillis shot me a smirk over her shoulder, and I had to restrain myself to keep from rolling my eyes. I turned instead to watch Frank heading toward us, and in the process, caught sight of Jamie sitting across the room, his nose buried in his beer and eyes lowered. But I noticed the clench in his jaw, and my heart ached in sympathy. 

I was brought from my musings when Frank plopped down on the couch next to me, the impact causing a slight tremor in the cushions that sent me sliding toward the middle-- closer to Frank, damn it. 

Frank turned toward me and was just about to open his mouth when I was saved from a private conversation by Rupert. 

“Claire,” he bellowed, “who dae ye think would win in a fight— Dougal or a black bear?” 

“Oh definitely Dougal. He’s got enough rage to take down something 3 times his size.” 

All the boys let out guffaws, smacking Dougal’s shoulder in congratulations at the praise. 

As the conversation went on, I found my head had a pleasant buzz, and I remembered why beer wasn’t so bad. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying it too. The room had a warmth in it-- a bright, cozy atmosphere that made everyone a little more boisterous. 

Frank, for his part, was especially melted by the cozy feel. He had been moving closer and closer to me as the conversations progressed so his thigh now touched mine and his side was barely pressed against me. Just as Angus was telling a dirty joke, Frank took the opportunity to raise his arm and drape it over my shoulder. 

I started to stiffen, but forced myself to calm down. This was innocent, I could handle this. 

But someone else couldn’t quite handle it. 

I saw the exact moment when Jamie looked up to catch sight of us. A shadow fell across his features and they instantly hardened into a stony expression. But his eyes-- God his eyes-- they flashed an intense blue as they narrowed, and I could see every bit of tension in his muscles. He was coiled so tightly I thought he must surely either burst or fly across the room. But he was using every ounce of self control he possessed not to rush over, pull Frank from me, and beat him to a pulp. 

For not the first time that night, I felt a little bad for Frank. The poor sop thought he had a real shot with a single woman. He had no idea the truth. Guilt made my stomach churn. I wasn’t exactly leading him on-- I made no mention that I returned his affections nor signaled that I enjoyed his touch in any way— but Frank had persisted. 

So, Frank’s arm rested around my shoulders, and Jamie sulked across the room, his eyes never leaving us once. 

*

Nearly an hour later, we were all well and truly sloshed. For me, that meant wanting desperately to jump Jamie’s bones. It must have been the same for Geillis and Dougal, because they disappeared into the back bedroom Dougal and Frank would be sharing. For Frank, he grew more bold, and had himself pressed fully against me. He kept trying to spark up conversation with me, but everything about him seemed to dull, and I mostly ignored him. Poor drunk Jamie was so fixated on me and Frank that he hardly said a word. He just glowered from his spot in the shadows across the room. Finally, for Angus and Rupert, their drunkenness was simply an intensification of their usual uninhibited personalities. 

So, naturally, some fireworks were broken out. 

“Do ye ken wha’ would happen if we sent it up the chimney?!” Angus bellowed. 

“Woaahh,” I staggered to my feet-- blissfully removing myself from Frank’s arm-- and stumbled over to where Angus and Rupert were already knelt by a big box of fireworks that they produced from God-knows-where. 

“I ha’ a lighter!” Rupert announced proudly as he produced said lighter from his pocket. 

“You are going to burn the whole house down!” I exclaimed. I snatched the lighter from his fingers and walked into the kitchen to set it on the table. 

When I returned, Jamie was staring at me unabashedly, and his beautiful blue eyes were pleading with me not to return to Frank’s side. 

His wish was granted as Angus pulled out a couple sparklers with a wide grin and an opened-mouth laugh of glee. Before I could react, he was sprinting for the kitchen and grabbing the lighter. Rupert was on his heels, and the two boys smashed into each other as they reached the table. Angus snagged the lighter, and they both ran around to the other side of the island, sparklers in hand. 

I found I didn’t have the willpower to stop them and could only pray that they didn’t burn the cabin down as they lit the sparklers. I watched in both fascination and dread as the little fireworks shot into sparks of light. Angus and Rupert waved them around triumphantly in the kitchen, faced awed. 

I instinctively turned back toward the living room with the desire to see Jamie’s reaction, but to my surprise, I found him stalking into the kitchen, his usually soft blue eyes hard with anger and authority. 

“Outside. Now,” he bellowed at the two fools. His voice held all the authority of a drill sergeant, and even more menacing was his posture. His back was ramrod straight, and his arm lifted to point straight at the door. 

Jamie’s order sent Angus and Rupert scurrying for the door. I watched with a bit of disbelief as the very drunken men (boys, really) fell over themselves to shove their way outside, the sparklers still popping in their hands. Frank rose, too, muttering something about making sure they didn’t kill themselves. 

The moment the door closed behind the three of them, hands were wrapping around my waist and pulling me into the protection of an alcove near the back door, and a hard body pressed me against the wall. 

Before I had any time to process my sudden change of location, Jamie’s lips were attacking mine. He kissed with all the desperation and ferocity of a man who was starving. His arms tightening around my waist and pulling me flush against his body, he held me close and ravished my mouth. I felt him pouring out all the possessive energy that I knew had been building the entire night. I returned his kiss with equal desperation, my drunken brain responding on instinct, and I wrapped my arms around him. 

“Ye’re mine,” he all but growled against my lips. 

I managed a breathy, “yours,” just before his fingers wrapped themselves into my hair and tugged me into another deep kiss. 

Finally, he pulled back, and we were both panting for breath, chests heaving in the slightest. I took a moment to study his face. His lips were puffy and his face lit with a fine dusting of red high on his cheekbones. But as my gaze swept further upward, I saw that his eyes blazed with possessive jealousy. That hard look made me sober instantly. 

“Jamie, I’m sorry, they--” I started. 

He seemed to deflate a bit, the muscles of his shoulders relaxing for the first time nearly this whole evening. He reached out a hand and softly cupped my cheek, and then let his fingers explore backward so they were carding through my curls. I melted into his soft touch. 

“I dinna fash, I ken it’s no’ yer fault,” he said, instantly assuaging my fears. 

I drew closer to him like a moon drawn into orbit. Pressing myself to him, I let my head thump against his shoulder in exasperation. 

“Geillis has it in her head that Frank and I would make a great couple. I couldn’t tell her no without exposing us…” 

“I ken, they’ve all been shovin’ the two of ye together all night,'' he growled, “and I could see ye pleadin’ wi’ me to rescue ye. God, Claire, I wish to God I couldha rushed over and torn his arm from his body jes’ for touchin’ ye.” 

I tried to cut Jamie off, but he wasn’t done. 

“Christ, Sassenach. I could kill him for this.”

Before I could start a reply— I had no idea what I might have said: defended Frank or tried to reassure Jamie— a warm mouth was capturing mine again. With a little whisper of a gasp, Jamie detached from my lips and started trailing his mouth down my jaw and to my neck. 

He began to suck on the skin there, and my hands flew up to bury my fingers in his curls in response. I held him against me as he nipped and sucked and worried his teeth into the sensitive skin. 

“He means nothing to me, Jamie--” my words were punctuated by a gasp, “I just have to play along-- for a little— until I can tell Geillis it didn’t work out.” His talented lips traveling up and down my neck made it nearly impossible for me to get the words out. 

Jamie rose up, his eyes glimmering with the now familiar deep shade of blue that indicated jealousy, and towered above me. 

“Aye. Play along. Jes’ dinna forget that ye’re mine.” 

I shook my head and fixed him with earnest eyes. 

“Never,” I breathed. 

He gave me a smile that made my stomach flutter and my fears about his reaction dissolve completely. 

Reaching down to tug me closer again, he joined our lips once more, and I finally had the opportunity to simply revel in his nearness, as I had been dreaming of doing this entire day. 

Just as I lifted my hands to tangle in his curls and pull him closer, the sound of the door opening sent us flying apart. 

Since I was trapped against the wall, after Jamie jumped backward, he quickly turned away from me and grabbed at something on the kitchen table in an attempt at nonchalance. I surveyed the alcove I was in and discovered a scrub brush hanging on a hook on the wall. Holding it up, I emerged to see the three men standing in the living room, paying zero attention to the kitchen. I abandoned my hastily-discovered, but now unnecessary, excuse by the sink and headed back toward them. 

“So, did you boys have a nice time safely enjoying your fireworks?” I inquired. 

“Aye!” Rupert bellowed, and I let out a laugh-- mostly releasing nervous energy at how close Jamie and I had gotten to being discovered. 

As I walked back over, I noticed Frank’s dark eyes watching me intently. I could tell he had words on the tip of his tongue. 

I must have returned his gaze for a second too long because suddenly the words were coming. 

“It’s awfully pleasant out there. You can see so many stars. Care to join me, Claire?” 

It took every ounce of self control for me not to turn behind me and shoot a helpless look at Jamie. But I could feel his eyes on me by the prickle in my spine. His weren’t the only pair fixed on me, though, as Frank was staring at me, waiting for me to respond to his invitation. 

“Frank, that’s very kind, but I really am tired and think maybe I should--”

“It’s only 10 pm, ye granny!” Angus interjected, “ye cannae go tae bed this early!” 

I stifled a groan of frustration. This weekend was making me understand the definition of “stuck between a rock and a hard place.” 

I forced myself to give a smile to Frank. “Oh, alright then. But not for too long. I wouldn’t want to fall asleep on the porch.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’d carry you inside--”

Frank’s flirtation was cut off by a loud bang from the kitchen. All heads swiveled in that direction to find Jamie standing at the sink (his expression nothing short of smug). 

“Oh, sorry, dropped a pot,” he said, voice sounding not at all apologetic. 

He gave me a tiny reassuring nod which soothed the knot in my stomach and gave me the courage to turn back to Frank. 

“Alright, let’s go.” 

Somehow, I felt that I was walking to my own execution. 

* Fortunately— and I truly thanked God profusely— Frank was not so drunk that he tried to kiss me. We just sat side-by-side on the edge of the porch and looked out at the sky. There was enough distance between us to help me feel comfortable (although I caught him trying to scooch closer a few times). Mostly, Frank rambled on about the constellations, naming them and giving some random fact about their discovery or uniqueness. I had been lying earlier when I had said I was tired, but after listening to Frank drone on (I pitied the girl who would someday actually go on a real date with him), I really began to actually want to doze. 

My head jerked once as I nodded off and then caught myself, and when I looked up, I found Frank staring at me in the moonlight. 

“Maybe you should go to bed…” Frank politely gave me the out, and I couldn’t have been more grateful. 

“I think I should,” I agreed, and before he could say another word, I stood up and brushed my hands down my pants. 

I bid him a hasty, “Goodnight, Frank,” and then fled inside. 

In the living room, Rupert and Angus were passed out on the couches— Rupert with one leg thrown over the top of the arm, and Angus fully upside down, with his head off the edge— and both snoring profusely. Jamie was sitting in a chair by the hearth, giving a glum look to the neck of his half-drunk beer bottle. When I entered, his gaze shot up toward me. I knew Frank would be on my heels, so I couldn’t linger to comfort him. I just gave him a calming smile, blew him a discreet kiss, and then said, “Goodnight, Jamie,” just as the door opened again. 

“Goodnight, Sassenach,” came his reply as I fled toward the door of my room. 

Geillis was still with Dougal (I pitied Frank if he was careless enough to head into his and Dougal’s shared room) so I splayed myself out on the bed and luxuriated in the feeling of being horizontal. It had been a long day, and I was more than ready to fall into the embrace of unconsciousness. I managed to get myself up to brush my teeth, take ibuprofen, and drink some water before I fell back into bed. 

As I started to drift off, thoughts of Jamie circled mercilessly in my head. I sighed, rolled over to my other side, and fluffed the pillow under my cheek. I hated this whole situation. Still, the way he had kissed me-- God, maybe jealousy was kind of hot. That brought a smile to my face, and as I closed my eyes again, I relived Jamie slamming me into the wall and kissing me over and over in my head. 

*** The next morning brought a broken stove. Thankfully, Dougal was able to produce a camping stove from somewhere in the basement, and we all gathered on the porch to watch as he made pancakes. Geillis managed to shove Frank at me and get him to sit next to me on the porch swing, but other than his thwarted attempt at taking my hand, the morning was rather uneventful. 

That day, we were planning to head to Loch A’an for a day of swimming. It would be a bit of hiking to the lake, and a cold swim once we got there, but Dougal and Jamie knew of a secluded beach that promised some fun without too many tourists. 

Standing above my suitcase to get ready, I sighed to myself as I pulled out my swimming suit. The little black bikini had been chosen for Jamie’s discreet enjoyment. (I had secretly imagined how his eyes would bug out and how he’d have to hold his tongue when I first undressed at the lakeshore.) But now, with Frank’s attentions, I regretted bringing such a risque choice. 

I changed quickly, and just as I was about to put on my shirt, Geillis entered the room. 

When I had managed to fit my head through the collar and tug it down, I noticed Geillis looking at me with a smirk. 

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. 

“Ye have a hickey, Claire.” 

I let out a gasp, and slapped a hand over the sore spot on my neck. I walked over to the mirror and looked to find I indeed had a hickey just at the edge of my collar. 

Damn it, Jamie!

“Things go well wi’ Frank last night, then?” Geillis prodded. 

“Uhh--” I stuttered helplessly. 

I couldn't very well deny it, because there were no other options as to who would have given it to me. 

“I--” I started again. 

Geillis was looking at me with those big “spill the gossip” green eyes. 

“I have to go!” I burst out. 

I frantically snagged my bag and fled the room, then ran outside to join the safety of others. 

On the drive, Dougal’s van bumping viciously on the gravel roads, the boys burst out into Gaelic song. Frank and I-- momentarily united by our Sassenach nature-- could only laugh along at their rowdy renditions. I smiled to myself when Jamie’s voice rose above the rest. He was adorably off key but he more than made up for it with his enthusiasm and unabashed volume. 

It was a thankfully short drive, and the songs switched to English halfway through which allowed me to participate. Before I knew it, Dougal was pulling into the lot. We all piled out with nearly the same eagerness as we had after the 4 hour drive to get to the cabin. 

As soon as we were out, I hastily slathered sunscreen over my poor pasty skin. Jamie always told me that I had ‘verra fine skin, like pearl,’ but I was cursing it since no one else had stopped to put any on themselves and were just about to leave me behind. Jamie, bless his heart, lingered back while the others started up the trail. 

I finished as quickly as I could  and ran to catch up. As I reached Jamie, he gently grasped my elbow and pulled me close to him (with a careful eye ahead to be sure no one was looking back). 

“I wish I could help ye wi’ that sunscreen, a nighean,” he said in a low voice right next to my ear. A shiver went down my spine in response, but I didn’t trust my lips with words. 

We quickened our pace to catch up with the others, and soon we had made it to the back of the group. 

I took in the surroundings with awe. The cliffs, green with the summer, loomed around us. Their tips were jagged and rocky, and I felt myself itching to climb to the top of one to take in the view. It was a perfect summer day. Blessedly, it wasn’t raining, and the sun glimmered off of the water in the distance. It had been unseasonably warm that summer, almost unnaturally so, which was the only reason we were daring to swim in the usually chilly lake. 

I was so entranced by the scenery that about halfway into our hike, my foot slipped off a rock on the edge of the path. My ankle rolled, and I let out a yelp as I started to skid down the slight embankment. 

Quick as a flash, Jamie had grabbed my arm and hauled me up. I fell against him, still completely off balance, and found myself pressed to his chest for a second before I gained awareness and pulled back. 

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?” Jamie asked. I noticed his eyes were shining with worry. 

The rest of the group had halted and turned back, and Geillis was making her way toward me from the front of the group. 

“I’m fine, I think. I rolled my ankle a little though.” 

I tested my weight on it and winced as a small jolt of pain traveled up my leg. 

“Do ye need me tae take ye back?” Jamie asked in a low voice. 

“I’m alright, it’s just a little tender. I can keep going. Maybe just can you--” 

“Frank!” Geillis’ sing-songy call interrupted my question, “why dinna ye help Claire? Her puir ankle is painin’ her, I’m sure she could use an arm tae hold onto.” 

Frank split apart from the group and materialized at my side. 

“Allow me,” He said as he managed to shoulder his way between me and Jamie. 

I stood mutely, and he walked around to my bad side and started to lift my right arm over his shoulder. 

“Oh, that’s really not necessary, I can walk,” I chuckled nervously as his hand snaked its way around my waist. 

“Perhaps just until the soreness wears off,” Frank said dismissively. 

He took a step forward, and pressed to him as I was, I went with him. I accepted my fate with the burning of embarrassment flaring in my cheeks. 

Truth be told, it was helpful to relieve the pressure on my ankle. Frank actually made a decent crutch, and we quickly found our rhythm. Worse than the pain in my ankle would have been, though, was the sight of Jamie walking next to me but just out of reach. His shoulders were slumped, and he was trying desperately not to look at us. 

God, I wished it was his arms around me. 

I clenched my teeth and allowed Frank to help me forward. The ground soon turned into an incline, and I looked up from my feet to see that we were nearing the secluded beach of the lake. It was a rocky shoreline, with big boulders sticking up out of the water all over the place, but it still looked very inviting. A child-like glee rushed through me at the thought of playing around the boulders and in the water. 

Soon, we were all on the beach, and Frank was letting me go to set down his things. The boys ripped off their shirts, and Angus and Rupert went flying into the water with loud whoops of glee. I set down my bag and then straightened to find two pairs of eyes on me-- Frank and Jamie. 

Jamie had already stripped off his shirt, and I took a fleeting glance up and down his body to appreciate him. Frank stood further from the water, by the bushes, but I could tell he was just as eager as my boyfriend to watch me strip down to my swimming suit. 

A wave of frustration swept over me, and I felt very bold as I met Frank’s gaze and gave him a chastising stare in return. Realizing he had been discovered watching, Frank averted his eyes, and made to take off his own shirt. 

Might as well get this over with, Beauchamp. 

I stripped off my shirt and shimmied down my shorts all in one quick motion, and then threw the clothes into my bag. 

Jamie’s reaction was comically similar to what I had imagined. 

His eyes did indeed go wide, as his gaze very markedly raked up and down my body. A grin started to form on his lips, but then he suddenly remembered our location, and horror flashed in his eyes as he looked toward Frank and the others. I thought Jamie had half a mind to run over and throw his shirt over me to cover me up (the thought of which made me laugh), but he was left frozen and rooted in place. 

I began walking toward the water, hoping perhaps I could get there before Frank finished rummaging through his bag. But no such luck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him catch sight of me, but I had no desire to take in his reaction. 

Damn it, I am not on display for you to ogle!

I waded quickly into the water, gasping at its chilly temperature and then hastily sinking down in the shallows to hide myself from any unwanted view. 

Soon, all of my frustration over male objectification was swept from my mind as Geillis appeared and tried to dunk my head under water. 

We swam and clambered on rocks and boulders for what felt like hours. I floated in the water and allowed the sun to warm me, occasionally turning over to dive under and enjoy the feeling of being submerged in the cold water.  

After a while, I grew tired, and I swam my way over to a cluster of particularly large rocks. I pulled myself up onto one and stretched out on its warm surface. Peaking around to make sure that Frank hadn’t snuck up on me without my notice (I had been carefully avoiding him ever since getting in the water), I noticed that the rocks blocked me from view of the entire group, and I allowed myself to relax. The surface of the rock was smooth, as if made for lounging, and I soaked up as much of its warmth as I could. 

I nearly screamed as a hand closed around my ankle and jerked me out of my peaceful daze. 

I clamped my mouth shut as I caught sight of a grinning Jamie, his curls wet and dripping around his face, his upper body resting casually on my rock. 

“Sorry tae startle ye, mo ghraidh. It’s jes’ that ye looked sae bonny and peaceful, I couldna help myself.”

The hand moved from my ankle to caress up the outside of my calf and squeeze. Even just a subtle touch like that had me sitting up and reaching for him. 

“Get up here, bloody Scot,” I whispered. 

We both took a quick glance around to ensure no one else had wandered into our secluded spot, and then the next moment, Jamie was hauling himself up next to me and gathering me into his arms. 

The kiss was nothing like the one the night before. Jamie took his time, lips soft and giving as he patiently pressed them to mine. His hand reached up to cup my neck (God his hand was so big) and his thumb massaged it gently. The kiss was a slow burn, but the fire nonetheless scorching for it. I felt him smile against me as I smoothed my hands greedily over the bare skin of his back.  

“I’ve missed ye,” he murmured against my lips. 

“We’ve been together all day,” I teased, knowing completely what he meant. I had been feeling the same way. Being so close to him yet forbidden to touch him or even pay attention to him was maddening. 

“Aye, but ye and Frank have been together all day, too,” Jamie’s voice absolutely dripped with jealousy, and his burr came out strong with Frank’s name, turning it into a derisive “Frrrrrank.” 

“I don’t want to talk about him, I just want to enjoy being with you,” I pleaded as I fused our lips together again. 

I hated that every moment had to be stolen in secret. Even now, I would have given anything to spend time simply laughing and joking with him, wrestling him in the water. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I was pretty darn grateful for his kisses. 

But Jamie must have somehow read my thoughts, because he was pulling back and taking my hand. His eyes held a gleam of mischief. 

“Will ye swim a bit wi’ me, Sassenach?” he asked. 

When I nodded, he splashed into the water, and then dragged my hand down so I followed him. 

I had adjusted to being on the warmth of the rock, so the moment my body submerged under the freezing water, it was a shock to my system. I cursed under my breath and began to shiver. 

Jamie laughed at me, his eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners. 

“Cold, lass?” he asked in a teasing tone. 

“Of course I’m cold,” I chattered, “aren’t you?” 

“Nae. Ye ken Scots dinna get cold, Sassenach. Come ‘ere and let me warm ye up.” 

Jamie’s hands found my hips, and he pulled me through the water until I was pressed flush against his bare chest. I smiled and wrapped my arms around my neck and my legs around his waist. 

He floated around for a while with me clinging to him like a koala bear, keeping his arms tightly around my shivering form as he waded further backward. 

“I kent ye were naturally cold, but ye really are freezin’, puir wee thing. Ye’re shaking’ so hard ye’re makin’ my teeth rattle,” Jamie commented. 

I nodded pathetically against his chest. 

“Would be quite a shame if I were tae--”

All of a sudden, Jamie was dipping me backward into the water, making to throw me from him and submerge me. 

But I clung to him with all my might and let out a whisper-screech, and he was forced to straighten back up, laughing. I scrambled further up his body, climbing him like a tree in an effort to stay out of the water. 

“Alright, if ye’ll no’ leave me, I’ll jes hafta go wi’ ye.” 

With an evil grin, Jamie bent his knees, and we both plunged under. 

I pushed on his chest, breaking free of his arms and swimming backwards away from him. 

“Traitor,” I hissed, “you’re supposed to be my personal heater.” 

“And yer supposed tae be my girlfriend, no’ my baby koala,” he shot back. 

“I’ll show you baby koala,” I laughed as I lunged toward him. 

I grabbed the top of his head and made it shove it downward under the water, but I had underestimated Jamie’s strength, and he simply didn’t budge as I attempted to pull his face down. 

I froze, looking at Jamie and the mischievous gleam that had returned to his eyes. I had just enough time to mutter a “crap,” before he was on me. 

I had to suppress a squeal as, instead of grabbing for my head as I had expected, Jamie dove under, grabbed my ankle, and tugged me sharply downward. I gasped in air just before my mouth went under the surface. I kicked wildly in the murky water around me, hoping to catch Jamie in the rib as payback, but my feet made no satisfying connections. 

My head popped back out of the water, and I saw Jamie bobbing a meter away. 

He started swimming, and I pursued him all the way to where the lake grew slightly shallower and we could both touch the bottom. 

Once I reached him, I shoved at him playfully, and he indulgently pretended that I was actually propelling him backward. 

“Alright-- alright,” he said between laughs as I continued to push at his chest, “truce.” 

I paused and eyed him warily. 

“Seal it with a kiss?” 

“Always,” he said as he leaned in eagerly with lips puckered invitingly. 

Just before he reached me, I cupped my hands and sent a spray of water right up into his face. 

Jamie sputtered at the splash, and then looked up at me, mouth agape in betrayal. 

“Ye’ll pay fer that, little lassie,” he growled. 

He was just about to lunge toward me when a shout of “Claire? Jamie?” came from a short distance away. We both froze and looked at each other. 

“Over here!” Jamie yelled. 

“Och, thank Christ. We thought ye may have drowned,” came Rupert’s answering call. 

“Nae. Jes’ got distracted swimmin’ after a fish and found Claire. Come on, lass.” 

I leaned in to give Jamie one last gratuitous, self indulgent kiss, and then we swam back to the group. 

We had a picnic on the beach, all inhaling our sandwiches and crisps as if we hadn’t eaten in days. Then, we spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around and taking in the beautiful sight. After we had enough of lazing about, we decided to call it a day and head back. As we finished packing up, Frank appeared at my side and offered to help me on the walk back. I insisted that my ankle was much improved and declined politely, and I watched as his face fell in disappointment. From behind him, I noticed Jamie’s light up. 

I walked back (by myself, thank you very much) at a brisk pace, eager to remain at the front of the group and away from Frank. 

Geillis kept looking at me and gesturing toward Frank, but I just ignored her. 

I was pretty worn out from a long day of playing in the water. I was drooping in fatigue in that way one does after their strength has been sapped by the cold. When we all squished together into the van, I found myself sitting next to Jamie in the back. As Dougal began the long drive back, the rumble of the van underneath me began to lull me to sleep. 

I craned my head back to rest it on the seatback and frowned, knowing there would certainly be a crick in my neck by the end of the drive. 

As I began to drift off, I felt a big, familiar hand gently tilt my head and guide it onto his shoulder. I smiled sleepily and nuzzled my face into Jamie’s shirt. 

Best part of the trip so far. 

***

Dinner was leftover spaghetti and salads because we had been too cheap to buy anything else. I still wolfed it down, and didn’t even mind the taste of the accompanying beer. We played a drinking game after dinner— Angus insisting that beer and tequila were a dessert. It was something with cards, but I was so confused by the rules and so bad at it that I was drunk within only a few rounds and had no hope of ever actually learning the game. Frank was drunk too, and he was fully pressed against my side, an arm slung casually around my waist. 

I stiffened, trying to send the message that it was an unwelcome touch, but either he didn’t notice or didn’t care, because his arm remained. 

Geillis shot me a million-watt smile, and said, “they’re so cute together, are they no’, Dougal?” 

Dougal only made a Scottish noise in his throat before picking up his beer. 

I couldn’t bear to look toward Jamie to see either his rage or his despair. 

I ducked out of the game politely, saying that I was well beyond my drink limit, and then tore myself from Frank’s grip and scurried off to the bathroom. 

I shuddered to myself as I looked in the mirror. 

One more day, Beauchamp. Tomorrow you go home. You can do this. 

I ran my fingers through my wild curls and then stepped out of the bathroom. 

I was just passing the final door in the hallway and about to reenter the living room when a hand shot out and tugged me by the wrist into the dark room. I stumbled straight into Jamie’s solid chest.

“Sorry, I didna mean to scare ye, but seein’ him touchin’ ye like that drives me mad.” 

His arms looped possessively around my waist, and I melted against him. 

“It drives me mad, too,” I said as I was fitted perfectly into Jamie’s embrace. 

He drew back and hooked a finger under my chin to tilt my face upward. He leaned down and attached his mouth to mine, kissing me like he never wanted to do anything else. His lips pressed insistently, withdrawing for a moment only to dive back in again with renewed fervor. Our kisses made soft snicking sounds in the dark room as he pressed and released. 

“Jamie--” I forced out between kisses, “I-- they’re going to-- mhmmm-- notice we’re gone.” 

He pulled back reluctantly, and my lips tingled with the absence of his touch. 

“I suppose ye’re right. Go on then,” he said sadly with a tilt of the head. 

He placed a solid (but surprising soundless) smack on my bum as I leaned in for one last quick kiss and then left the room. 

*

The rest of the night’s entertainment went by in a flash. Frank was all over me. It was like a game of cat and mouse-- I’d evade him for a moment only to be cornered the next. I finally ended up on the floor next to Geillis, desperately linking my arm to hers in the vain hope that it might discourage Frank. 

We were all seated on the floor in a circle and looking expectantly at each other in the hopes that someone might suggest something else. 

A suggestion did come, but not a welcome one. 

“How about we play spin the bottle?” Geillis giggled with raised brows. 

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Thankfully, Rupert piped up. 

“Tha’s no faiiir,” he whined, “the only lasses here are ye and Claire. I dinna want tae end up kissin’ this numpty,” he jerked a beefy thumb in the direction of Angus, who was staring drunkenly down at his hand as if it was the most bizarre thing he’d ever seen. 

“He has a point, Geil,” Jamie declared in support, “I dinna think we have quite the numbers tonight. It’s late, perhaps we should go tae bed.” 

Geillis nodded in acquiescence. 

All at the same time, we staggered to our feet, using any available object for support. 

“Before we part ways, I hafta suggest a wee room trade,” Geillis said suddenly. 

Everyone froze at that. We were all tired and beyond desperate for a soft bed. I noticed everyone’s eyes widening in dismay. Rupert looked ready to stomp his feet like a toddler having a tantrum. 

Geillis shot him a look. “Dinna get yer panties in a twist, I didna mean you. I would like to spend the night wi’ Dougal, so how about I go tae his room and Frank goes tae Claire’s room so they can have a wee bit o’ alone time?” 

Horror flooded my veins and I suddenly went still as a statue. My brain provided a very unhelpful mantra of no, no, no but produced no coherent response, or better yet, rejection to offer Geillis. 

My eyes flicked helplessly to Jamie, and I found him seething with rage. His hands were clenched at his sides in tight fists of barely controlled anger. 

“Alright by me,” Frank piped up from beside me. 

All of a sudden, all of Jamie’s jealous fury exploded. 

“That’s it!” He bellowed, and launched himself across the room. 

He shoved Frank away from me so hard that the poor man went staggering backward until he plopped down on the couch. Jamie whirled to face me and grabbed me forcefully around the waist and jerked me against him. 

“Claire is my girlfriend, alright? We’re dating! My heart and soul belongs to her, and I canna bear tae see this go on fer another second. She’s mine.”

The room was absolutely silent and dead still as everyone stared at me and Jamie. His declaration hung in the room for the longest moment, and the tension was so thick I thought I would have been able to feel it if I waved my hand through the air. Jamie still had me pressed against him tightly, and was looking around with narrowed eyes as if daring anyone to try to take me from him. 

Finally, the silence was broken by the sound of Geillis beginning to laugh. 

“Took ye long enough.” 

Now it was mine and Jamie’s turn to be steamrolled by shock.  

“What do you mean, ‘took you long enough’?” I asked slowly, finding my tongue to be thick and heavy in my mouth. 

“I’ve been tryin’ tae get him tae do that all weekend!” she exclaimed. She had the audacity to sound exasperated. 

I just stared at my friend blankly. She rolled her eyes. 

“That’s what the whole “Frank thing” was about. I needed a way to force ye to fess up.” 

I was still so taken aback that I couldn’t seem to find my voice. But Jamie did. 

“Ye kent? About us?” He asked incredulously.

“Aye, of course I did! Ye two arena exactly discreet. Ye cannae keep yer hands tae yourselves, fer Christ’s sake! Any moment when ye think no one’s lookin’, ye’re all over each other. Plus, ye always disappear at the same time. And ye didna think we’d catch on?”

Angus chose that moment to speak up. “For the record, I didna ken a thing.” 

“Shut yer mouth, ye big oaf,” Geillis hissed, “this isna about you.” 

She crossed her arms and looked at us accusingly. Her sharp, squinted eyes demanded answers. 

I sighed. Jamie shifted a little next to me and resettled his arm around my waist-- more comfortable and supportive and less possessive now that it had been made clear that I was off the market. 

“Claire and I have been seeing each other ever since we went off to University of Edinburgh,” Jamie began to explain. 

Dougal clapped his hands in triumph and elbowed Geillis. “I told ye it’d been that long.” 

Jamie leveled him with a look. “Do ye wanna hear the story or no’?” 

Everyone fell silent, and I picked up the narrative. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t say anything sooner. You know Jamie’s parents wouldn’t approve, and neither would my Uncle, so we decided to keep things a secret while at home until we could break the news to them.” 

Everyone nodded understandingly. Relief made all the tension flow from my muscles, and I leaned heavily against Jamie. Our friends just stood there staring at us for a long moment, as if sizing us up as a couple. I felt like a mannequin on display, and held Jamie a little more tightly. 

“Were you terribly surprised to figure out we were together?” I found myself asking to break the silence

“Och, no, the lad’s been head over heels for ye since ye were bairns,” Dougal said with a dismissive wave. 

I looked up at Jamie with a smile. “What? Is that true?” 

The dusting of red making its way up his neck to his cheeks was all the answer I needed.  

“Aye. I kent I was gonna marry ye the first time I laid eyes on ye the first day of primary school. It jes’ took a little while fer adult us tae catch up.” 

My own cheeks burned at his words and I went up on tip-toes to place a sweet, chaste kiss on Jamie’s lips. 

Hollers came from Angus and Rupert, ever the childish ones, and I pressed my smile onto Jamie’s. 

Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. Frank hadn’t said a peep the entire time Jamie and I were explaining ourselves. With a furrowed brow, I turned behind me to where Jamie had pushed Frank onto the couch. 

As I did, I was greeted by the sight of him completely passed out and slumbering peacefully on the couch. 

“I guess he’ll get filled in sooner or later,” Jamie chuckled. 

We turned back to the others. I felt a lightness in my chest at the transparency and was relieved that I had the freedom to spend time with Jamie as much as I pleased again. 

“Well, I guess we really will have tae change rooms now,” Geillis announced, “I’ll sleep wi’ Dougal, Jamie’ll go wi’ Claire, and Frank--- weel, I guess Frank’ll sleep out here tonight.” 

Jamie’s hand slipped up under my shirt to rest on my bare skin. I felt him tap his fingers against my side in eager anticipation of being together again. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. 

“Sounds like a plan, goodnight everyone,” I said. 

I had barely finished bidding everyone goodnight when Jamie began dragging me down the hall toward my room. 

Good night indeed. 

***

The next morning, after a leisurely breakfast, we took our time packing and cleaning up. Someone must have brought Frank up to speed, because now it was his turn to mope. Jamie, on the other hand, was all smiles. He clung to me like a starfish all morning, finding any excuse to touch me. He was more than happy to flaunt our relationship in front of Frank now that he had the opportunity. As I did the dishes (and Jamie was supposed to be sweeping), he came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and began to trail kisses down the side of my neck. I turned and playfully smacked a sud-covered hand on his cheek, leaving him half a soap beard. A small wrestling match occurred as Jamie tried to reach around me to grab some soap for his revenge, but it was soon broken up by a “dinna go wild now, ye two” from Dougal. 

Later, as I started toward the car, ready to load my bag, Jamie caught up to me and snagged it from my hand. 

“May I take this for ye, milady?” he asked cordially, pressing a kiss to my cheek. 

“I am capable of carryin’ a little duffle.” 

“I ken that fine, my strong wee lass. Only I love ye verra much and wish to serve ye.” 

“Well, if you put it like that…” 

I handed him the duffle and smacked him on the bum as he started toward the door. He let out a whoop of surprise and jumped. Nothing was more satisfying. 

Watching the whole exchange in the corner was Frank, his dark eyes hard with jealousy. 

As Jamie disappeared outside with my bag, I felt compelled to approach the Englishman. 

“Listen, I’m sorry if you felt I led you on. I really tried not to give you any signs I was interested, Geillis just kept shoving us together. I hope there’s no hard feelings that I’m with Jamie.” 

I extended a hand to him and gave him my best apologetic smile. He looked from my hand up to my face, then back to my hand. Ignoring the proffered appendage, he shouldered past me and muttered “slut” under his breath. Then, he had disappeared from the room. 

I stood rooted to the spot. Completely floored by his attitude, I couldn’t seem to bring myself to move. 

Jamie returned to find me in that position, staring off at the hallway down which Frank had disappeared. 

“Sassenach? What’s wrong?” He asked. 

He moved closer and slid an arm around me as if sensing I needed support. 

“Frank just showed me his true colors I guess,” I quietly said, still taken aback. 

Jamie was instantly moving into my line of vision. “He didna try tae touch ye again, did he? I swear I’ll--” 

I cut him off before he could go listing threats. “I tried to apologize to him and say no hard feelings...” I said quietly. I fixed my gaze on Jamie and furrowed my brows, “and he called me a slut.” 

Jamie stiffened. I could see the rage flicker over his face before he composed it. He looked me in the eye for a moment, gauging whether I was okay. Finding me satisfactorily composed, he straightened up. 

“I’ll kill him,” he said decidedly. 

He began to stride with single minded purpose toward the bedrooms, his fists clenched at his sides, but I snapped out of my daze and caught his wrist to pull him back. 

“It doesn’t matter, Jamie,” I said, “really, it doesn't. I couldn’t care less what Frank thinks. He was all over me all weekend without permission. I’m with you, darling. Let’s just forget about him. He can sulk all he wants on the way back, and then we never have to see him again.” 

I tugged on Jamie's arm pleadingly and prayed that he’d see reason and abandon his task of pummeling Frank into oblivion in defense of my honor. After a long moment, he gave me a stiff nod. I relaxed, and Jamie followed suit, the angry set of his shoulders softening. 

“No man should speak tae ye that way, but if ye ask me tae leave it be, I will,” he said softly. 

He stooped down to kiss me lightly on the forehead. 

When he pulled back, I caught his hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“Come on, let’s finish loading up. Maybe this time I’ll take your bag for you.” 

*

If Jamie had been clingy before, he was insufferable the entire ride back. We ended up on the bench seat in the middle together, and he didn’t stop touching me the entire ride home. I knew he checked the rearview mirror to gauge Frank’s reaction behind us, but the man doggedly stared out the window, completely silent the entire time, refusing to look at us. The ride was much quieter as a whole-- everyone was tuckered out from the last few days. I separated myself from Jamie so that I could shift to the side, and then I laid my head down on his lap. 

Ever so gently, his fingers began carding through my hair. He started up a delightful rhythm-- a press of fingertips into my scalp, a swirl, and then a gentle pull as he tugged carefully through my curls. Every once in a while, he would change it up, and take his whole hand to brush the lot of it away from my face. His touch was so tender and relaxing that I began to drift off. 

I had nearly fallen asleep when I felt lips pressing to my temple. 

“I love ye, Sassenach,” he whispered. 

I tilted my head so I could smile sleepily up at him. “I love you, too.” 

His hands cupped my cheeks, both thumbs stroking over them, and I opened my eyes wider. 

He was looking down at me with a complicated look on his face-- a mix of love, affection, and something far more serious. 

“What is it?” I asked, placing a hand over his where it cradled my face. 

He gave me a smile. “Let’s tell my parents and your uncle when we get back, aye?” 

I broke into a beam and nodded against his lap. 

“Yes. Let’s tell them. I’ve had enough of this keeping secrets business to last a lifetime.” 

***

THE END. But not really! Here’s the sequel The Deal

[trashogram]

Smut I’ll probably never finish; we’ll call it practice: Killer Croc/Reader

Edit: Warnings for painful sex, slight gore/blood, and violence 

I didn’t expect people outside of those who humor me on this blog to actually read this, but I appreciate everyone who did! I’m putting up a few warnings by request if anyone else is interested.  

“You really meant it, huh?” He asked.

The guttural voice gave you shivers, up and down your spine. Your legs tightened around his waist, bare skin rubbing over the scaly texture assuredly.

“Yes.” You confirmed, knowing that you had to choose your words carefully, otherwise you’d offend him. At least, that was how you thought you would react if you were a killer crocodile man getting a taste of intimacy after God knows how long.

Your slight movements actually managed to push him forward slightly, more out of surprise than your own strength. Again, you weren’t some super-strong mutant, able to lift cars and topple buildings.

He grunted, leaning down until his upper body was atop yours and his enormous hands were on either of you. He stared down at you with yellow eyes that mezmerised; they were unnatural looking and yet still so human - full of little flickers of emotions. The lust was obvious and it made the heat between your thighs that much more intense, but Croc was also questioning. His hesitance shouldn’t have surprised you, but you found yourself melting just a little at the fact that he was waiting for you to change your mind.  

Your hand rose, reaching out toward his chest and sliding up from his pectorals all the way to his jaw. He was scaly from head to toe, but there were parts of him that were softer than others. His neck was strangely fragile, like the underbelly of a reptile rather than their hide.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered, swallowing at the way his brow arched.

“Kiss?” He said, tone slightly incredulous. “You wanna… kiss me…?”

“Oh, do you not want… do you not like them?” The statement didn’t take into account that Croc had possibly never been kissed in his entire life, and you’d put it like that on purpose. He didn’t exude any kind of touchy-feely behavior to suggest he’d been given the chance to decide if he liked physical touch like that at all.

His mouth closed, teeth hidden behind a set jaw. “If it’s what you want, lady. Go for it.”

You smiled softly, and raised yourself up just enough to be within kissing distance. Your lips puckered and you pressed them against his straight as a line mouth, noting that this area was hard but not rough. There was give to it, reminding you more of human flesh as his lips parted slightly.

You moaned, accepting the quick draw and release of his breath into you. You could feel his coarse chest against yours, and the heart inside beating quickly as he let himself relax. He groaned into your mouth finally, humming as if he were tasting something particularly delicious while you coaxed his tongue into your mouth.

You pressed your forehead against his before breaking away for air, letting him know without explicitly saying it that you just needed to breathe and weren’t trying to escape. Not that you could from underneath him.

Croc panted with you. “You sure you ain’t never killed a man before? Probably could, if you kissed ‘em like that.”

You closed your eyes and laughed, feeling lightheaded. Your fingers stroked over his cheek and along his jawline as you felt his grip around you tighten up. He squeezed you, carefully but with purpose, holding you firmly.

+++

Leaning down, you kissed the criminal again while balancing yourself with your hands pressed down over his ribcage. Pushing the hair away from your face before rising again, you reached back and easily found his cock and aligned yourself with it.

You inhaled slowly, determination strengthening your resolve as you continued to sink down onto him. The head was fully inside, but you were still far and away from taking all of his length.  

He growled, claws tensed around your waist. It was enough to make you brace yourself with a hand on his forearm.

You grunted. “Tell me how it feels, big guy. Please. I wanna know.”

The sweet request took a while to get through to his brain, but Killer Croc eventually came back to reality. His eyes were glazed over, but you could still see your reflection. You were the only thing in his world.  

“‘S like heaven.” He murmured.

The praise made you blush. Your stomach unclenched as a new sense of confidence flooded your senses, and you went back to working your way down so that he could have more. It was very much work, even as the crocodilian man helped by taking some of your weight. He held you up when you needed to pause, though it became evident that he’d started shaking.

You dragged one hand from his abdomen to your center, circling your clit. It sent a jolt of electricity through your body, reminding you to let yourself feel this experience.

       Your walls clenched around Croc, and you whimpered. It was completely drowned out as the beast under you snarled at the sudden vice. You jerked back as his hips moved upward in a shallow thrust and suddenly you were there. Your ass was seated firmly on his hips.

He was in bliss, head tossed back against the cell floor. “Ahh, that’s … uuugh, real good.”

You giggled affirmatively, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the triumph of taking all of him. You felt beyond full, stretched to a limit many women couldn’t likely accommodate lest they risk injuring themselves.

You were nice and durable, though. Even as you pressed back down on his chest for leverage and began to lift yourself halfway up again. You looked down between your legs and saw how shiny the base of his cock was already, then lowered back down. Again, and then again.

The wetness was a blessing. You were sliding up and down within a minute, unending fullness that kept you walking the line between pleasure and pain.

You cried out as Killer Croc made another attempt at thrusting. It was still slight, but there was no way for it to go unnoticed. He continued to growl, letting one claw grip onto your thigh while the other left you entirely to dig into the floor.

It was so easy to get overwhelmed, and yet the noises you made seemed to egg him on. He got into a disjointed rhythm, really trying to fuck you in earnest.

He was too big. The thrusts felt like being shivved in the pelvis while he hit the farthest he could go inside of you. Yet, you couldn’t do more than squeal and shriek as you bounced violently.

The nails on your thigh dug in and pierced your flesh. You covered your mouth to muffle a scream at the pain, but Croc took advantage. He pulled you forward, squeezing you to him and thrusting faster.

The danger of this getting out of hand had been reached and you felt dizzy and helpless. You couldn’t focus on any one thing whether it be the blood sliding down your leg or the stab of him against your cervix. You sobbed, eternally grateful for your bodily resilience as you were split apart.

This wasn’t going to kill you, even if it felt exactly like that.

“Fuck! I’m, ugh!” His words were punctuated with fast, shallow thrusts. Howling out, he completely immobilized you and buried himself to the hilt before you realized that he’d cum.

Heat filled you, stinging as it joined the static sensation of hurt and tingling inside. You could barely feel the rest of your body, only noting that the base of your spine felt like it was being shocked.

Croc’s relief sounded like a combination of deep growl and a nasal grunting. His hold on you went lax as soon as he had emptied everything inside you.

—-

The sound was distant, faraway thunder that still shook the ground beneath. It was simultaneously comforting and bizarre feeling the earth beneath you giving and taking. Not to mention the strange texture - inconsistently smooth until your arms lowered over its slope and you touched a much harder surface underneath.

Were you lying in some kind of plateau? Or a strange rock that was smooth at its peak and jagged at the base?

Eyelids fluttering, you squinted. There was harsh, ugly light above you, casting a glare against the thick glass before your eyes. It was a wall of glass, thicker than the thickest plaster wall you could find in an apartment in the Narrows.

You connected the dots then, and your head rose with a bit of effort so that you could confirm that you were still laying on Killer Croc.

Yes, he was still there and still breathing. And so were you.

Thank god.

Your lower half felt numb, except for the thick object still lodged inside of you. You grimaced a bit trying to pick yourself up with the added weight of his arms still embracing you, but his softening cock eventually slipped out of you.  

The cum was thick and white, no different from a completely human man’s. The feel of it dripping out of your core was just as satisfying while you struggled to catch your breath.

You were quivering when you felt Croc’s arms drag over your back, pleasantly scraping over your soft skin as he kept your body atop his own securely. He clearly didn’t give a shit about being covered in your combined fluids.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 98

I hope everyone is ready for Warlord Bowl!

Warnings in this chapter for violence and blood. Also food, although I think my entire story needs to be flagged with that one.

If you like this chapter, @baelpenrose was a huge help with the fight scenes, which I - quite frankly - stink at writing.  If you don’t like this chapter, well -  I stink at writing fight scenes.

Despite my best efforts - and multiple denials to Charly’s requests for concession stands - the gym area was packed shoulder-to-shoulder for the duel between Jokul and Arthur. People I had never seen populated the stands, while I was surrounded by my family. Conor sat to my left, with Maverick behind me and Tyche to my right.

Cronch, cronch. “Charly,” I sighed. “What did I tell you about the popcorn?” Daggers shot to my right, if I managed my sister’s glared correctly.

Apparently not. “No concession stand for the duel,” Charly recited just before she stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“And where did that come from?”

“My quarters.” Cronch.

“Swear you aren’t selling it?”

“Naw e’en…” Swallow. “The recipe. This is my personal popcorn, thankyewverymuch.”

“Then why is it blue?” I asked, not completely assured she wasn’t running a black market popcorn ring.

Which made me sound entirely paranoid, but still. This was Charly.

“I wanted it to be blue,” she shrugged, holding a handful up to me.

I glared at the snack, wary. “Does it taste blue?”

Her response was a shrug. “Not really? It tastes like kettle corn. The food consoles are still trying to figure out popcorn, I think, and I wanted kettle corn, so I made a whirly pop on my own.”

Warily, I took a few kernels and gathered my courage to test them.  After swallowing, I frowned. “That’s… actually really good kettle corn....”

“Of course it is. I made it. Like I said,  I don’t think the food consoles understand ‘popcorn’ just yet.” Cronch, cronch. “Wasn’t risking it.”

“And you wanted it blue why…?”

She shrugged again. “Personal popcorn, why not?” With that, she tossed a few kernels of blue fluff in the air and caught them neatly in her mouth.

With a similar shrug, I snagged another handful. “So why are all these people here?”

To her credit, Charly scowled at me. “Warlord Bowl 2044? Do you really think anyone is going to miss out on this?”

“It was supposed to be secret,” I tried in vain, remembering Arthur’s point about that.

Almost as if she could read my mind, Charly snorted. “Eyeah. Hokay. Your personal warlord bestie issued a challenge in front of close to a hundred people and you really thought it would be kept a secret…”

“Not my personal warlord,” I tried, not even believing my own objection.

To my relief, a welcome voice popped up to my side. “She’s worked in call centers, she knows secrets don’t exist in closed systems,” Tyche interjected. “Oo! Popcorn?”

“Bad kettle corn,”  I warned. 

“Not blue-flavored, so I’m okay,” she clarified as she reached for a handful. “And anyway, this is less than I expected.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, there isn’t a stream to the entire ship.”

“Tyche!” I scolded for such an idea.

“Look, Miss-I-love-UFC-Fights-more-than-the-dudes-hitting-on-me, don’t act like this isn’t right up your alley,” Tyche pointed out with an arched eyebrow and a slurp through a straw

Hanging my head, I muttered. “Not my fault if they couldn’t appreciate B.J. Penn.” If I groaned, no one else heard it.

Tyche smacked my shoulder roughly. “Then you should love this fight. Judo versus… whatever the fuck Jokul says he is.”

“Unarmed grappling,” I supplied unnecessarily. Because who the fuck knew what that meant.

I was spared any further conversation by the arrival of our combatants.  Zach Khan appeared to be having the time of his life, hamming it up as the announcer. I had no clue where he got the microphone, and honestly just wondering if I should wonder about that gave me a headache. When he was announced, Jokul managed to earn both cheers and groans as he whipped off his robe and threw it to the side, leaving him standing shirtless like some over-dramatic anime villain.  His only concession to practicality, it seemed, since he left his hair braided in a queue down his back, practically begging for someone to use it as a handle in a fight.

Arthur managed to resist any similar shenanigans.  Instead, he just nodded when he was announced, flexing hands that were either taped or wearing gloves - I couldn’t tell at this distance. From what I could tell, he was wearing what he was picked up in: dark t-shirt, black jeans, and sturdy boots.  His glasses were nowhere to be seen, which made sense with a target as big as Jokul. Where his opponent was prowling around, seeming to be itching for the chance to fight, Arthur was standing eerily still.

And he looked deadly serious about this. I was starting to be grateful I made him promise not to kill the guy.

Finally, Zach seemed to run out of steam and announced the start of the match. Both of them were unarmed, thankfully, but that didn’t stop Jokul from charging headfirst at Arthur the moment he was allowed.  He made it about three steps before Arthur calmly sidestepped and simultaneously reached for an elbow and shoulder while planting one boot against his knee.  A quick full-body twist on Arthur’s part sent the larger man tumbling ass over teakettle.

Jokul managed to glare from his place on the floor, panting in either anger or adrenaline, while Arthur tilted his head like he was trying to figure out what he was looking at. “Can I just point out that, as one of the Ten Thousand, you are perhaps Darwin’s greatest failure along with being living proof that Miys is a terrible judge of character?”

I groaned and dropped my face to both hands while everyone around me snickered. “You got your fight, dork,” I muttered, knowing that Arthur couldn’t hear me and wouldn’t have listened even if he could. “Stop antagonizing him…..?”

A full-throated roar snapped my head up just in time to see Jokul launch himself from his place on the floor, only to end up right back there when Arthur threw him again.  And again.  Jokul repeatedly charged at his opponent, despite it getting him nowhere. It was a bit ridiculous, and it seemed Arthur agreed. After the third time throwing Jokul, he followed behind at a light jog and, as Jokul sat up, aimed a kick squarely at his jaw.  Before I could close my eyes to avoid the slightly-excessive violence, my jaw hit the floor when Arthur landed on his ass with one foot clenched between Jokul’s hands and shoved at an awkward angle. 

“That son of a bitch….” Tyche muttered beside me, while Charly just growled. Maverick and Conor were gripping my knee and shoulder hard enough that I just knew it would bruise.  

To my horror, it only got worse as Jokul wrapped his own legs around Arthur’s thigh and started trying to break the leg at the knee.  Before he could get enough leverage, Arthur managed to kick with his free leg hard enough to break the hold, but wasn’t quite able to get up fast enough to avoid Jokul pinning him to the floor.  Blows started raining down, with Arthur barely able to get his arms in place to protect his face.

I didn’t even realize I was biting my lip until I tasted blood. Threats against Jokul’s life were flowing from Charly’s lips like a prayer, and I was starting to wonder if I had enough hands to hold Tyche, Conor, and Maverick back from jumping in the improvised ring. But still, I couldn’t look away. I wouldn’t let myself look away, blaming myself for what I was watching.

It was Jokul’s turn to taunt, although they came out in staccato grunts instead of his usual crowing as he never let up his attack. “Better - fight - than - that - toothy - whore - but - you - aren’t - stopping - me - either. That - lying - bitch - is off - the Council - and - the rest - of you - will know - what a - real - leader - is.”

As soon as the last word was out of his mouth, Arthur lunged forward, taking a blow directly to the mouth but reaching for Jokul’s shoulder.  The attached arm spasmed and went limp, forcing Jokul to reach with the other one to try to pry Arthur off.  Instead, Arthur grabbed that hand and peeled the fingers back towards the wrist, twisting out from under Jokul as he stiffened in pain. As he got to his feet, Arthur twisted harder and further, with Jokul clenching his teeth to avoid screaming.

I lost all dignity at that point, surging to my feet and shouting. “Come on, Arthur!!!”  My sentiment was echoed by Charly screaming like a demon and incoherent cheers from Conor and Maverick.

Arthur showed no evidence of hearing us, his face full of the closest thing to rage I had seen on his face. There was no sign that he even realized his lip was split and blood dripped from his mouth.  Rather than the burning fury I was used to seeing on other people, he seemed possessed by this cold stillness that chilled me to the core - and it wasn’t even directed at me. 

In what looked like a Hail Mary, Jokul snapped his free hand around to grab Arthur’s ankle.  The attempt was in vain, because right as we could hear the wrist in Arthur’s hands snap, his foot slammed down on the other hand with a sickening crunch.  It took every ounce of willpower in me to keep from revisiting my evening meal when I saw blood trickle from beneath my friend’s boot.

When Jokul’s screams paused so he could take a breath, Arthur issued his ultimatum. “I can keep this up as long as you want to try, but I’m going to suggest you find a brain cell worth listening to and concede.  Nod if you understand me.”

Slowly, in small increments, Jokul bowed his head before raising it to look Arthur in the eye.

“Say you concede. Because if you don’t stop now, we are going to find out just how much damage Hujylsogox technology can repair.  And remember - that so-called lying bitch on the Council has already put it to the test a few times.”

Silence roared through the gymnasium as it felt like everyone present held their breath. One, two, three panting breaths later, Jokul’s mouth moved and his head nodded.

The next thing we knew, Arthur threw his opponent’s broken limb to the ground and stepped away. “Take him to a medbay.”

Charly’s cacophony of animalistic glee threatened to shake the Ark apart, while every bone in my body seemed to abandon me at once. Conor caught me with a speed born of much practice, while Maverick started to steer Charly in a path behind my sister so we could leave. I couldn’t even remember actually leaving the gym, too dazed from relief and the loss of adrenaline I hadn’t even realized flooded my system.  Charly’s blow-by-blow recap of the fight - in case any of us hadn’t been present for the event, apparently - turned into white noise as I fought the sudden urge to sleep.

At some point, I remembered hearing Tyche and Arthur’s voices arguing, which confused me because they both seemed insistent that I needed a medbay.  Why do I need a medbay? Arthur’s the one who got punched in the mouth… “Arthur needs stitches,” I mumbled.

“Sophia! Can you hear me?”

“Tyche, you are screaming. Of course I can hear you,” I retorted. “Why do I need to go to the medbay?”

“You… “ Arthur growled before being cut off by my sister.

“You passed out, Soph,” she explained in an aggrieved tone. “We didn’t know what happened. I said you just fainted from stress, Arthur was worried you were in shock somehow…”

“I said you needed to eat,” Maverick pointed out.

“Ding ding,” I joked half-heartedly. “I haven’t eaten recently.”

I could feel Conor tense up around me. “How recently have you eaten?”

“Evening meal?” I said sheepishly.  When I felt him take a deep breath, I answered the inevitable follow up question as sheepishly as I could manage. “Evening meal yesterday?”

Thump! “OW! Goddammit Conor,” I grumbled, rubbing my backside where it hit the deck. “You fucking dropped me…”

“You told me, if I caught you eating less than once every ten hours, you weren’t allowed cuddles until you had eaten two full meals.”

Tyche’s eyebrows flew as close to her hairline as possible. “Seriously, Sophia?”

“I forgot to eat for five days,” I admitted. “And…. Yeah. I passed out.  I’m trying to take care of myself, right? Although that didn’t mean you had to drop me.” I tried to scowl at him, but my eyes really couldn’t make it beyond his waist at that angle.

When I turned to get some help off the floor, Arthur was glaring - at me. “Eat.”

“Stitches,” I responded.  From this position, I could see at least one tooth was either broken or gone entirely. “And dental. That can’t feel good.”

He tried to scowl, but the flinch betrayed him. “Fine, you have a point. I’ll hit a medbay, everyone else find some food… Sophia, no cooking. You have - let’s see, it took Miys something like an hour and a half to fix a machete blow and an arrow in the chest, so I’ll be around ten minutes behind you. Fifteen, tops.”

My turn to make a face, apparently. “Not fair. I was chopped in half - it took three days to fix that!”

“I didn’t need organs cloned,” he replied airily, waving as he turned toward the closest medbay.  After three steps, he stopped, did an about face, and walked back past us and on ahead. When I opened my mouth to ask what he was doing, he held up one finger. “Not a word. He’s in that one, so I’ll find another.”

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[j-elaine-hyde]

The Bean Chronicles - B.C.

Reader / Henry Cavill

You had begrudgingly agreed to go to the industry party. Your best friend Ash, who was also your assistant, had seen the invitation on your desk and convinced you to go by begging and pestering you until you caved.

“You know it’s going to be fun.” She sat there, invite in hand, waving it around for emphasis.

“You know it’s not going to be anything like you think it is.... right?” You shot back.

“We’re going. You already agreed. I’m calling Harris and we’re picking out what to wear. End of story.” She hopped up, plopping the gold embossed envelope on your desk, before walking out of your office.

There you stood, in front of your mirror, staring at your hot pink satin covered body. Your glam squad has just finished with you and was leaving as you admired their handiwork. You hated to admit it, but you looked good. Your hair had that perfect full, body wave, tucked and pinned behind one ear. Your makeup was glamorous and perfect. And you had almost died when you saw Harris bring in this dress. It fit you perfectly, hugging your curves, draping over and hiding the few spots on your body you hated.

Ash bound into the room in a stunning black bandage dress. She was 6 foot and now even taller in heels. She’d eat men alive tonight, and you knew at a minimum it would be entertaining to watch as she rebuffed their advances as they threw themselves at her feet.

“The car is here. You ready?” She smacked her hands together loudly, barely able to contain her excitement.

You took one more glance at yourself in the mirror before nodding, “Yup. Let’s do this.”

The two of you walked in and immediately you felt all eyes on you. Granted you knew everyone was staring at the both of you, but it was still an entrance that made you feel slightly selfconcious. The two of you scanned the room quickly before walking in. You were instantaneously inundated by cater waiters with trays of champagne.

“Darling you look absolutely ravishing!”

You spun around to see your host, Malcom, coming at you with open arms. He was wearing a champagne gold lamé tuxedo. You Hollywood cheek kissed each other before introducing him to Ashley.

“Well! I’ll never be sad meeting gorgeous women. Honey you are to die for. We need to work together!”

“Ok!” Ash quickly responded.

Turning to you he grabbed your hand, “Darling... you simply have to circulate. If that dress doesn’t get you laid tonight then I’m never hosting another party as long as I live! You look absolutely stunning. Only A list for you tonight. I don’t want to see you even talking to some slumpy producer.”

Your cheeks slightly flushed as you laughed, “ok ok. I hear you.”

He smacked you on the butt, “Go get em bitch! I’ll catch up with you later.” And off he went to welcome more guests.

“He’s right. You need to get laid tonight.” Ash leaned down and whispered as she took a swig of champagne.

After hours of smiling and socializing you made your way to a secluded patio away from the party. You needed time to decompress and reflect. You had been flirting and having fun before noticing Ashley had managed to corner Michael B Jordan. You were on your own, and took the opportunity to hide away. You were staring out at the pool, zoned out when you heard a vaguely familiar man’s voice behind you.

“How is a woman as gorgeous as yourself out here alone?” The low British accent gave you butterflies.

You spun around to see none other than Henry Cavill standing there holding two glasses of champagne.

“Just taking a break...” you smiled, trying your best to play it cool and hide your excitement.

“Mind if I join you? I brought provisions...” he smiled, holding up the two glasses.

He moved closer to you, “I’m Henry.”

“I’m Y/n”

“Is it weird if I already knew that? As soon as I saw you walk into the party I immediately tracked down Malcom to ask about you.” He sheepishly lowered his head for a moment before taking another step closer, offering you one of the glasses. “Without sounding like a creep, I’ve been trying to talk to you all evening. But you were always surrounded...”

You blushed and tried to hide your smile. “Well you’ve got me all to yourself now...” you took the champagne glass, tipped it to his and took a quick sip.

“Luckiest man in the world then.” He winked as he took a sip.

The two of you stood there talking and laughing before taking a seat on a small loveseat romantically tucked away, completely surrounded by a 7’ tall hedge wall.

You finished the last of your champagne, feeling warm with a slight buzz. Henry leaned in, taking your empty glass and setting it on the ground with his. He was so close that you could smell his cologne. Your pulse raced as he leaned in closer.

“You’re absolutely stunning.” He whispered in your ear, his breath on your skin, giving you goosebumps. He hesitated before placing a kiss on your neck that sent a shockwave through your entire body. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer as he continued kissing your neck. Your hands gripped his broad shoulders before you pulled back slightly, coming face to face. Your eyes searched his before closing as he leaned in and kissed you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, deepening your kiss. You felt his big strong hand squeeze your ass as he pulled you closer.

Holding onto you he leaned back, continuing to passionately make out with you, he slid his hand up your thigh, pushing your dress out of the way before pulling your leg over his lap. His hands explored your body as you sat straddled over his lap. His hungry lips traveled down your neck, as he nuzzled his face in your cleavage. You felt him shift in his seat, slightly raising his hips, his erection making itself known beneath you. His fingers dipped into the plunging neckline of your dress, freeing one of your breasts as he took your already hard nipple into his mouth. Your fingertips were digging into his back as he grazed his teeth gently across your sensitive flesh. His hands slid down your hips, pulling you against him.

His name escaped your lips as a moan. You felt his smile against your chest as he raised his face to yours, “Yes darling?” He asked breathlessly.

“I want you...” you exhaled as you leaned in to kiss his gorgeous face.

His hands left your hips. He continued kissing you as he unzipped his pants, freeing himself. His thumb traced over your slit. “Damn baby...” he grunted finding you without panties, as he immediately felt how wet you were.

You smiled before hungrily kissing him, tightening your arms around him. With his his member in hand, he ran it between your thighs before you started to lower yourself down onto him. You inhaled sharply feeling his thick size stretching you. “Oh god! You exhaled into his ear as lowered further onto his shaft.

He buried his face in your neck, his hot excited breath keeping your nipples hard. “Baby you’re so tight!” He mumbled into your neck before gently biting it.

You continued riding him as his hands and mouth explored your body. His incredible eyes locked on yours as he felt you tighten around him. “Come for me darling.” He smiled, eyes locked on yours.

You threw your head back as the explosion spread through your body. Your lips quivering you let out another “Henry!” As you felt his grip on your hips tighten, pulling you down hard onto him as his exploded into you, buried deep.

“Oh God,” he grunted between panted breathing, locking your hips against his with his strong hands. A secondary wave hit you as he twitched and pulsed inside of you. The two of you tensed, gasping for air, as you simultaneously reached climax. You collapsed against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you.

“Let’s stay like this forever Darling, shall we?” He asked.

All you could do was smile and nod. You started to shift your weight, but he tightened his grip around you. “Don’t you dare...” he softly laughed, “not yet.”

This only took your smile and upgraded it to a grin. You took a deep breath, completely relaxed and drained, Henry still pulsing inside of you. You turned your head towards his neck and licked slightly before placing slow, sweet kisses, dragging your lips between each one. He made a low guttural groan as you continued your trail. He dug his hand into your hair at the nape of your neck and gently pulled you back to face him.

“Come home with me tonight?” He asked sweetly.

You smiled and shook your head yes.

Gently tugging your hair, he pulled your head to the side, burying his face in your neck, covering it with kisses. You made the slightest moan and this immediately caused his slightly smaller than before member to rage back stretching you all over again. You inhaled sharply, feeling him grow, looking at him with pleases surprise.

“Round two?” He winked at you.

You thrust your hips forward before hugging your arms around his neck for leverage. As you bounced on his lap, you could feel another orgasm spreading. You gripped onto him tightly as it hit.

—

You barely remembered the ride to his house. The two of you made out in the backseat of the SUV the entire way, it wasn’t until the driver opened your door that you both realized you had arrived.

“Wait here.” He said as hopped out. He trotted around to your side to help you out, offering you his hand. You slid out of the suv, placing your hand in his. He held it as he led you into his house.

————

It had been two weeks. Two whole weeks since you spent an amazing night with him. Half of you didn’t think you’d ever hear from him again, the other was sure you would. He had sent flowers the day after. The note attached read “Not as beautiful as you. Xoxo H”

You had text him, thanking him for the beautiful flowers, he had sent back “Sure thing gorgeous!”

Since then? Radio silence. Two weeks. Ashley was annoyed you even cared.

“Forget him. Let’s just go out tonight and find you someone else. At least you can say you had sex with Superman...”

“Yea... I’m not really in the mood to go out.”

“I don’t wanna hear it. We’re going out.”

Sure enough. You were being primped and prodded by your glam squad before you could even come up with an excuse why you couldn’t go.

—

It was another party. Another night of celebrities kissing the asses of producers and non-celebrities fawning over celebrities, and then there was you. You had opted for something more casual. Looking hot in black faux leather moto leggings and a flowy chiffon blouse/spaghetti strap tank. Your black Louboutin heels added the whole Bond Girl Sex appeal vibe.

You were walking along the far side of the pool, drink in hand when a man’s voice quietly whisper shouted “hey!”

You walked forward to see Chris Evans crouching down behind the massive potted plant.

“How’s it goin there bud? You ok?” You raised your eyebrows trying to stifle laughter as you stared down at him.

“Hey! Is that crazy woman in the purple dress anywhere close?” He asked.

You looked around, scanning the party for a crazy woman in a purple dress. And then you saw her. She was heading right for you.

“She’s coming this way.”

“Shit!”

She marched up to you and spoke insultingly slow, “Have you seen Chris Evans?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Well I’m looking for him.”

“Obviously. But why are you looking for my boyfriend?”

“I’m sorry, ...boyfriend?” She jerked her head looking up at you.

“Yea. Boyfriend. We’ve officially been together for three months now, almost four. So what can I help you with?”

“I feel like Chris would have told me he had a girlfriend....” she squinted, narrowing her eyes at you. When out of the bushes behind her Chris popped out. He brushed off a few stray leaves and walked your way.

“Baby! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” He brushed passed the annoyed woman in the purple dress, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m glad I finally found you!” He leaned in and kissed you sweetly before his hand slid behind your neck, pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

The angered woman in the purple dress cleared her throat in the most obvious way. You pulled away, your hands still resting on him. “Oh! Babe... this woman was looking for you? She wouldn’t tell me why....”

He looped his arm around your waist, pulling you close as he turned to face her.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Is she really your girlfriend?” She glared at him. You half expected lasers to shoot out of her eyes any minute now.

“Yea. We’ve been together almost four months now. If she’d say yes, we’d be engaged. But she wants to be rational and wait a little longer. But what can you do? Huh?” He laughed loudly and slid his hand down giving your ass a firm, obvious, squeeze with a quick pat.

You balled his shirt in your fist and pulled him towards you, planting a deep kiss on his lips. You smiled at him before shaking your head no and laughing, “shut up.”

“So what was it you needed?” You looked over your shoulder at the now red faced woman in the purple dress.

“Ugh! Whatever! You’re not even that pretty!” And she marched away, fists balled up at her sides.

Chris kept his hands on your waist, pulling your hips against his, as he smiled at you, your eyes locked on each other.

“Nice to meet you, thank you a million times over, I’m Chris.”

“Well you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do for my future husband. I’m Y/n.” You winked at him, your hands resting on the back of his neck.

“So... Future Mrs. Evans... Y/n... Girlfriend of almost four months... how are you tonight?” He smiled that megawatt smile, his clear blue eyes shining.

“I’m good. It’s never a dull night when I get to play Knight in Shining Armor instead of Damsel in Distress....”

“I owe you for that... seriously. I’ve been heavily avoiding her all night. And several others... I don’t know why I come to these parties.”

“Well I was dragged here by my best friend. And ya know, I had to lay claim on my future husband.” You were laughing at saying it and shaking your head.

“Man.... now I owe your best friend one too...” he locked eyes with you, making everything else around you disappear.

“Don’t let her know that or she’ll hold you to it.” You were almost too distracted by his handsome face to even respond.

Both of you zoned out staring at each other and smiling. Chris slid his hand behind your neck and leaned in, pulling you close, kissing you. Thankfully his other arm was wrapped around your waist. You went weak in the knees. And surprisingly the butterflies in your stomach didn’t keep you afloat. He pulled you closer as the kiss continued, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your right foot popping into the air like a romantic comedy.

——

That was almost four months ago now. And with the exception of a few days, you had seen Chris every day since then. The two of you had spent the rest of the party talking and laughing and occasionally making out. He made it abundantly clear you were the only one at the party he even noticed. You caught multiple women staring at you, jealousy written across their faces.

Since that night you were absolutely smitten. The more time you spent with him, the better he got. He was wildly romantic, and extremely silly and goofy, always making you laugh. He was thoughtful and sweet, but rugged and manly. He was perfect.

-

Chris sat on the wall in sunglasses and a RedSox hat. He sipped his smoothie as he waited for his friend.

“Whoa! I bet that’s someone famous!” He heard a familiar voice say.

Chris jumped up before he saw who had said that. “Shut up man... How are ya? Glad you’re back in town.”

“Yea! So am I. I had no clue that it was going to take so long to finish.”

“I mean, to be fair, you also didn’t know until last minute that it was even going to happen....”

“To be fair. Dude I literally had to race to the airport. I ended up having to send my assistant to buy shit because I forgot to pack a ton of stuff.”

“Thats crazy. Such is the biz. So how long you in town for?”

“You know man... I’m not really sure. I thought I’d come back for a couple of weeks... see if I can find something to keep me entertained. If I do, great, if I don’t, I’ll probably go home for a bit.”

“Well my girl has a friend, well it’s her assistant... I mean it’s her best friend. Anyway... She’s really pretty. Kind of crazy. Just your type.”

“So you’re still in love I take it?” Henry gave Chris a surprised look.

“More and more everyday man. I’m gonna marry this girl. She’s the one, without a doubt. I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s my best friend, the absolute greatest sex of my life, and I can’t get enough of her. I’m fucking hooked man. Shes my one. She’s great. You’ll love her.”

“Well alright then... I should probably start planning your bachelor party...”

“I’ve gotta get her to say yes first... which is actually what I need your help with. I’ve gotta go pick out a ring man.... I have an appointment with this jeweler guy at 2.”

“Oh shit. You’re serious. Like you’re honestly going to marry this girl....”

“Yea man... she’s the one.”

“Well fuck... let’s go get you a ring that she can’t say no to.”

[younghoax]

Sunday 20th June • Somewhere in Midtown

He’s only going for a piss. Ain’t gonna let a bunch of bozos put him off going to the bathroom in his own damn apartment, but he ain’t about to humour them, either. The bathroom door is right outside his bedroom. Just a short turn to the right and there it is. Easy fuckin’ peasy.

In theory.

“J!” Marco calls just as he reaches the handle. Spies him from the couch and waves him over. “Come light up kid. ‘Ey-- Benny’ll roll you one.”

The doorknob is already under his hand and Jordan twists it. Ignores the half-strangers that try to lure him across the room. Around half a dozen of them smoking in his living room with some kinda rap music playing from what he’s pretty sure is just a cellphone. Fuck that. He could go his whole life without facing these dickheads again and it’d still be too damn soon.

Dissatisfied with being ignored, Marco stands from the couch, steps over a couple legs and shoves the rest aside to get through until he reaches Jordan by the bathroom door. “Vieni qui piccolo,” Marco drawls through a grin, the guys sat around him on the couch repeating, “sì vieni qui piccolo,” laughing around joints and Jordan just stands there, arms crossed over his bare chest as he squints. Marco snides, “we got space. Sit on Benny’s lap if you gotta.”

With nothing else on Jordan’s body to grab, Marco tugs at the waistband of his shorts, the other hand reaching for the side of his neck. J squirms out from under his hands though, palms shoving the man’s chest. He hadn’t picked up on it until now, but his roommate must be on something.

Piccolo. He ain’t Marco’s fuckin’ baby. “Fuck outa here,” he grunts, letting them whoop and cackle like he just gave ‘em something to crack up about as he turns to continue his short trip to the bathroom. Not fuckin’ short enough.

“Come smoke with us, J,” his roommate tries again. “So tense all the fuckin’ time these days.”

“Yeah, well, got shit to worry about. A job and shit, y’know?” Nah, he wouldn’t know. “You ever heard o’one?”

Another audible reaction from their audience and Marco’s raising his voice slightly over the other voices. “What, like sellin’ those pills? Yeah, real good fuckin’ job you did of that, J. Complimenti!” The man cheers and his clowns cheer along. Probably aren’t even listening to what’s being said, just following their divine leader.

Sure, it took him a minute, but he wasn’t gonna sell to just anybody like Marco’s boys do. He gives a shit about the people that take it off his hands. Besides, they’re gone now. So what? “Stop fuckin’ speaking Italian, you were born in Staten Island from a schmuck from Texas, y’fuckin’ clown.”

“Fuckin’ talk about my old man, J.”

It’s Fathers’ day which is a laugh. Or, it would be if Marco weren’t so high that the irony’s lost on him. Got no fucking idea what day of the week it even is.

“A’right. Where’d you want me to start?”

There’s a single, “oh, shit,” that Jordan guesses the rest of the gang decide against humouring, Marco’s face going cold in a second. He doesn’t even get within six feet of Jordan when he says, “shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

“Nah, he was an alright father,” J tells him with a shrug, hands slipping into the pockets of his basketball shorts as his head lulls to one side. “Kept you fed, ‘ight? Soda and cigs by age fourteen. A nice, rounded fuckin’ diet.”

Looks like Marco thinks that’s the end of it because he gifts him with a short laugh, head shaking as he turns and swats one of his boys off the nearest armchair. Leaves him to find a new place to sit as he claims the space for himself. “Y’funny.”

J ain’t finished, though.

“Kept you safe too, eh? Got you a nice group of friends. Doubled as your babysitters. Oh neat!” He cheers. Nobody cheers along. “What was your favourite activity? Mine was a tie… Either counting cash and weighing coke with the boys or going to the park to play collect the syringes on the playground whilst daddy’s friends did their deals.”

“This meant to be hurting my feelings, J? Cause last I checked, you never had a dad.”

“How about the part where he beat you before bedtime? Bet that knocked you out like a light, eh? Get your eight hours, Marco? Yeah, he was the man.” A pause. “Y’just like him.”

Marco’s not moved. His friends ain’t said a word. Except one, who asks, “you takin’ that, Coney?” but he’s ignored by all parties. Marco scoffs, arms folded over his chest now, slouched back in his seat. “You wanna pretend like you hate me? It make y'feel better?”

“I do. I do fuckin’ hate you. You had me fooled back then Marco, but I see you now, doll. You ain’t shit. You’re suffocating me. Y’spoilt yourself. I realised how much of a fuck-up you are, and you ran outa people who gave a shit about you. Think these guys’d be here if not for your old man?” A roll of his eyes and J’s turning yet again to enter the bathroom, his words muttered. “Is that why you used to keep me at such a distance back then? In case I saw the light and stopped fucking worshipping you? Well, I see you in all your glory now, Marco, and it’s fucking ugly.”

Marco just scoffs behind him. “You still worship me.”

Jordan shakes his head, turning back again crossing the room to where the man is slouched in his chair, this dopey fucking smile on his face like he’s got him with that one. Like he didn’t spend years pushing J away, scared he’d see all the wrong sides of him. Spend years pining when Jordan moved states. Spent years in Jordan’s pocket when he got back, scared to be left alone with the big, bad wolves of the city again. As if he ain’t one of them. Worse, because at least those guys know what the fuck they are.

Jordan pauses in front of him. Spits. Tells him, “rot.”

That's all it takes to get a rise. Not a jab at his late father or his pathetic friends. Just the reality that Marco, himself, ain’t shit. To Jordan or to anybody. Marco’s out of his seat, arms around Jordan for long enough to get the leverage he needs to slam him to the ground, then it’s a rush of fists and nails. J grabs at the back of his shirt, trying to tug him off himself but has more luck shoving his elbows between them as a fist makes the first real impact to his side.

He can’t hear what’s happening around them, just hears his own breath punch out before Marco grunts and does the same again. J’s off to a shitty start with two punches to none and he’s still shoving to no avail at Marco’s torso until he finally gets a decent jab in and has his roommate doubling over. One quick manoeuvre and they’re flipped. J doesn’t hesitate, gets a good hit to Marco’s jaw and soon the guy’s reaching around, punching at his back and sides.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” he spits, doesn’t know what exactly it is that he’s seething about, but it’s months -years- or built-up anger exploding out of him as his hands land around Marco’s throat and the guy keeps punching, but J tenses his body. Tenses his hands, squeezes, and feels Marco abandon his punches in exchange for shoves much like Jordan’s own; all elbows. He feels the man try to shift – try to turn his head, wondering where the fuck his so-called friends are whilst his roommate grits his teeth above him, squeezes harder like he’s trying to break his neck. And maybe Jordan is, he’s not sure, but—

There are half a dozen hands-on him outa nowhere and Jordan’s torn away from Marco with such strength that he lands halfway into the bathroom, bare back skidding against the floor, bruised skin burning from the friction as he stops in the room he’d been trying to get to all along. Only this time there are three pairs of fists punching as he curls up on himself.

There’s a kick and, somewhere in the back of his mind, Jordan thinks that’s a low fucking blow, three against one and now somebody’s kicking. But then there’s a couple more, simultaneously and, with his arms wrapped over his head, shoes pummelling into his sides and his arms and his legs, Jordan can’t tell how many of them are standing over him. Doesn’t know how the fuck they all piled into the tiny bathroom. He hears himself grunt, hears his own heavy, wretched breathing, hears his pulse and hears Marco choke, “stop. Get off him. Get the fuck off him!”

And just like that, they stop.

---

Everybody’s gone. It’s just the two of them sat beside each other on the couch, the kitchen light on and just barely illuminating the room from where it stretches to their side of it. Silent, watching the screen like it’s on. Like it’s not just black.

They haven’t been alone for long. Someone shot out an offer to take care of J. Something about getting him outa Marco’s hair for good. Marco lost his shit. J didn’t really have it in him to listen. Just paid attention for long enough to confirm that his roommate wasn’t about to confirm a kill order on him. He just lay there, the side of his face pressed against the bathroom floor, arms around his waist and knees drawn up and Marco cleared the room out. Then he’d knelt beside Jordan, hooked an arm under each of his, and pulled him up and towards the couch.

Honestly, considering there was a handful of them and they’re meant to be the big, bad wolves of Manhattan, J ain’t really hurting half as bad as he’d expected. All fuckin’ talk. Don’t mean he ain’t hurting, though. He’s pretty sure nothing’s broken.

“I crossed a line,” Jordan mutters now, a bag of frozen corn pressed to his side as he tries to breathe short and hollow. Tries not to move more than he has to. “I’m sorry.”

The freezer’s otherwise empty, so Marco decided to be courteous. Let J take the bag of frozen food whilst he suffered. “They won’t touch you again,” the man replies, his voice hoarse. His own version of an apology, Jordan’s pretty sure. “I’ll kill ‘em before they do.”

“What about you?” Jordan asks, and the man looks confused. “You gonna put hands on me again?”

“You started it.”

“S’just a question.”

A small laugh leaves his roommate's lips then; jaw slightly swollen and growing darker, and he shows his teeth for just a second before he closes his lips around a smile. “Probably. Can’t stand you.”

“Yeah?” Hard not to smile. J wishes he could explain why. He elbows him lightly and they both hiss in discomfort. “Back at you.”

Marco’s face ain’t so bad other than the welt on his jaw, but his throat is starting to bruise, and he hasn’t spoken above a mumble or a whisper since he called off his army. He’s a little hunched too, probably isn’t aching even half as much as Jordan is, but enough that, when they both fall into a soft bout of laughter, mostly huffing out breaths, they’re also both sucking air back in between their teeth again in pain. The synchronicity only pulls another chuckle from both, until they’re shaking their heads in unison and pulling their eyes from each other, looking back at the blank screen.

“I know,” Marco mutters before he slowly, carefully leans back into the couch. “I know you don’t fuckin… Worship me anymore.” Well, no shit. “We’re barely even friends.” Barely? That’s generous. “But I do regret what I did. Back on the Upper West Side. I think about it all the time.”

Jordan just nods. They’ve never talked about it. Somehow, it’s just never been brought up since. Both men as embarrassed as the other.

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you blame me?”

Lower lip between his teeth, Marco’s eyes are scanning the walls when Jordan looks over to him again. He looks a lot like he did that afternoon, nodding and repeating ‘yes, sir. Yes, sir. No, sir. I’m sorry, sir,’ as his dad spoke in that tone like he wasn’t gonna hit you but he might just kill you.

He looks guilty as sin. And his voice cracks when he speaks.

“I knew you’d run,” he tells him simply. “I was too scared. Saved up all that money to get outa there and never fuckin’ did it, but I knew you would.”

“Bullshit. You took a swing and then you passed the bat. You left me for dead. Y’thought I was gonna die just as much as I did.”

“I didn’t know what to do! What was I meant to do? His boys were downstairs, he was so fucking angry. I was scared, J.”

“Yeah, well so was I.” Jordan scoffs. “While you locked yourself in your bedroom to fuckin cry about it, your dad was beating the shit out of me upstairs for your fuckin’ lie. I didn’t know you stole those drugs, Marco. Fuckin’ asshole. I mean—what were you doing, eh? When I was up there. Counting another wad of stolen bills you had laying around?”

“I called Danny,” Marco snaps. “Put my fuckin’ neck on the line for you, calling him.”

That’s fucking rich. Jordan’s fucking hero picked up a phone and whispered an S.O.S down the line. “Well, then. I guess everything’s fine, then. Ain’t it?” Another scoff and he has to tear his eyes away from the man. Can’t fucking look at him, the way his brows bow like he’s got something to feel sorry about. “You only cared about yourself.”

“I was in love with you!”

“You’re pathetic.”

The light in the kitchen has something loose. A filament that rattles and makes the faintest tingling sound. It took a couple months of convincing himself that he’d accumulated tinnitus before Jordan figured it out. One of the many annoying fucking sounds in this apartment, right after the ticking boiler and the sound of Marco’s voice. There’s a long silence that he welcomes though. Is glad to hear the sound of the damn light if it means not listening to--

“You loved me,” the man decides, his voice level. Factual. “You were obsessed with me-- Don’t look at me like it ain’t true, Jordan. Fuck you. You loved me and you were fucking scared, too.”

Their first kiss was in a fucking storage container, full of cocaine and lit by a solar lamp. They fucked on the ground, lasted no more than five fucking minutes. And they’d talk back then, sure. Jordan’s mom would be off somewhere, and Marco’s dad would be making his next big deal, and they’d find themselves alone, watching TV or tryna cook their own food or navigate the ferry when they were a little too high. Back then Jordan would pretend they were a couple. In his head, they were cooking after a long day of work. Sitting down and watching TV. Putting their feet up after a long day. Making out when it was late and nobody else was around. Finally a moment alone.

And yet.

“You’re right, I was obsessed with you,” Jordan admits. “Everything you did was like… Fuckin’ genius. I wanted to be you. With you. Whatever.” Marco’s eyes light up, still needing to hear Jordan say it, after all these years. Still needing someone to tell him he ain’t nothing. “But I can honestly say, hand on fuckin’ heart, that I wasn’t in love with you. Not even for a second. Not even a little fuckin’ bit. I was fifteen and I was horny and I was bored of being scared all the damn time. So I picked the first asshole that kissed me and I latched onto it.”

“You’re full o’shit. You don’t even know what love—”

“I fucking know, Marco.” He doesn’t realise that he has it in him to stand until he’s on his feet, wincing as he forces himself to straighten up. “Y’really got yourself convinced that my life stayed miserable when I got outa here, huh?” Jordan accuses, bare arms crossed over a bare chest, soggy, defrosting bagged corn soaking into the couch. He could tell him about how he fell in love and it wasn’t even close to the shit Marco put him through. Could tell him that what happened in Massachusetts hurt more than what happened in Marc’s attic. Could tell him that he just fucking wants to go home but his home died in a prison cell with a needle in his arm.

Thing is, he ain’t sure Marco deserves to hear it.

“I didn’t fucking love you,” he tells him. “And I’m moving out.”

[wheelersdealer]

All of You

Summary: You and Steve went from being the troublesome Queen and King of Hawkins High to the mother and father of the party. With a similar fate of working at poorly uniformed stores in Starcourt, and even poorer relationships with Jonathan and Nancy, you escape the Russians early and make an awkward meet up with the group at Hop’s cabin….where the mind flayer grabs onto your leg instead of El’s. 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader, Jonathan Byers x Reader Warnings: STRANGER THINGS SEASON 3 SPOILERS, Profanity, Gore. A/n: This is a "Little Devil” prequel requested by @ponyboy-sunsets. I’m digging the Jonathan elements and contemplating more of this love-triangle. Let me know if you’d be interested!

Starcourt decided that with the mall being the new revolutionary, it was only right to pay homage to the revolutionary hot-spot within its own property.

And you work there in the mock 50s diner with enough space to fit ten to twenty smelly, cramped families. You hate it. 

You’ve avoided having to haul around a beehive or mod wig and took up a ponytail alternative. Big hair or high hair has always been a requirement, even if by crappy wig or extensions.

The top half of your dress was crisp white with a red chiffon neck scarf. You’ve been sputtering and spitting the thing out of your mouth every time the wind has blown it right in there all night. And the bottom half was a deep red with a black felt poodle.

Kicking open Jim Hopper’s cabin with your bare foot and coming face to face with your children in the care of your ex, everyone can see that everything is red.

All of you. 

You drive an intoxicated Steve and Robin, and an eager Dustin and Erica the hell away from Starcourt as soon as those elevator doors open. Well, more like as soon as you spot the front doors of the mall after having to take a detour on account of the guard waiting near the elevator.

Both hands on the wheel yet you’re barely stable, your limbs aching and shaking and burning with how hard you clench your muscles in an attempt to steady your movements. 

You adjust Steve’s mirror and look back where Dustin’s squished between the two dummies who are giggling wildly and flailing, unable to get comfortable like a couple of tired toddlers. Your only choice is to endure the kicking at your back seat, Steve’s strange cooing at all the pretty street lights you pass by, and put all your weight on the gas. 

Erica senses the oncoming doom with the two before you do, and she lets out a strained “Uhhhhhh,” for longer than you like before finally spitting out “Y/n?”

You try your hardest not to snap at her. You can’t not snap at her so you keep your lips shut tight and give her a glance. 

“They’re quiet back there.” 

You look at them through the mirror. Indeed, they’re quiet, Steve’s face halfway out the window, his hand around the ceil, and Robin slumped over Dustin as she tries to get a taste of what Steve’s seeing. 

Your breath hitches and you almost scream, “Dustin, turn Robin’s head away!” 

He scrunches up his nose, ready to ask why. And that’s when Steve begins to hurl. It’s out the window but you can hear it and you close your eyes for just a second as your body shivers. Dustin’s jaw drops and he goes “OooHH—“ just barely getting the gist and pushing on Robin’s shoulder so she can direct her projectile outside of the car.

You wince at it, seeing she perhaps got some slobber on his shoulder and lap. 

But with what they’ve started, you might as well finish it. You hit the gas and Steve and Robin both whimper. The speed certainly does nothing to help their tummy in comfort but you’d like to believe it helps them get all of that gunk out faster. Dustin winces too and pulls his knees up and his hands to his head, preparing for the increased mass of projectile if either Robin or Steve chose to turn their heads to him.

Erica looks away, doing a few double takes but mostly pretending like all that…isn’t what she’s seeing.

“Where are we goING?!” Dustin yells. 

You scrunch your nose, back pressed deep into your seat. And then you fling yourself (and poor, poor, tiny little Erica…and Robin and Dustin and Steve but whatever) forward with the harshest stop you think you’ve ever made in your history of driving….The Byer’s household is lightless, empty. You groan and slap the wheel gently. But for the sake of the possibilities, you hand Erica the keys (hey, you never know when you’ll need another child to drive) and hop out of the car. 

You’re an absolute mess, first of all. And walking in this breeze is the first time you’ve really felt it. The skirt portion of your dress is still quite thick and poofy, but let’s say thicker with how much blood its soaked up from a mix of Russians, yourself, and Steve. 

You knock violently but within seconds deem that useless. And with two hands on the knob you push, prepared to meet a barricade. But there is none. You almost trip inside and as much of a bummer as it is to not be met with the faces of Dustin’s friends and yours (debatable), you’re comforted thinking they might not have come across trouble themselves yet…

So you skip back to the car and halfway down the Byer’s dirt and dead-grass lawn, you stop to pull your stupid work heels from your feet and chuck them off.

You get back in the car and get driving. 

The only other place available is the lab and Hopper’s cabin, but looking back to the last two years of having to deal with this shit you put your bets on the idea that if the others have found themselves in as much trouble as you’ve been in, that they’re going to be secluded. 

“Uck…what the fu—“ You press the gas again and the newly clear-headed Steve grunts as he’s thrown forward into the back of your seat.

“Oh great, glad to have you two back! Did you enjoy your trip?” You mock.

Steve’s curled up in his seat and gripping his head. “Are you mad at me? Or-or something?”

That ‘mocking voice’ is the one you put on for your diner gig, all cutesy and girly and 50s-esk (according to your boss and his pestering). You always use it to taunt customers you’ve found yourself particularly annoyed with throughout the day.

He groans is reminded of the pain, realizes that he really did go through a trip, and decides to put it to rest. 

“Where are we going?”

“Are…?” Robin squints, “Are we driving?” She tries leaning over Dustin to look at the windshield but gravity flings her back against her seat with your speed.

“Yup!” You say through strained teeth. You take a sharp right and drive yourselves straight into the woods.

They all hold onto the sides of the car (as for Dustin, he curls up and tries his best to hold onto Robin and Steve) when your car goes ‘out of control’ and you do a few donuts. But you’re determined, as Erica can see amidst her screaming. You don’t flinch for a second.

After it’s all over and done with, the car rumbling to a stop on dirt and gravel, a mere strand of hair has been flung out of place and lands itself on your forehead. You blow it away, finally get the will to unclench your hands from the steering wheel, then kick your door open. 

You slam it shut and look up the hill and past some trees. There it is — Hopper’s cabin, faint lights seen through the window. 

Never-mind all the sticks and rocks digging into your bare (or perhaps nylon-covered) feet. You stomp forth and Dustin shouts “Y/n, wait!” 

You don’t wait. You keep straight ahead with your teeth dug into your lip. You’d say it hurts and that you’re sad that it’s bleeding after everything,  but frankly the way the red tints your lips fixes up your absolutely battered lipstick and you feel more presentable. 

You run your hand down your dress, grip the doorknob, and give the others a lot. 

To give you some leverage in case this door is barricaded, you put your foot against the door and push, turning the knob and slamming the door into the drywall it lands against.

There’s a collective “AH!” and a cacophony of furniture squeaking and scuffing, but it’s just you.

It’s you facing whaddya know — Jonathan, Nancy, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max, and Eleven. Your eyes jump from one person to the next, and each of their faces is as terrified as the next.

“Y—“ Jonathan carefully gets up. “Y/N?” He stands with Nancy who holds onto his shoulder. “What the hell happened?”

Back to your uniform…

The top half of your dress was crisp white with a red chiffon neck scarf, and the bottom half was a deep red — no, more like scarlet — with a black felt poodle stitched somewhere near the bottom rim. But now, everything is red. Even though the amount of blood wasn’t all that substantial when you really think about it, the sheer amount of sweat collected from this little ‘experience’ has the colors spread. The top half has dried a deep, dark red in some parts, with swirls of white and pink in others. Almost looks like tie-dye, but the clear crunchy texture shows them otherwise. The red of your lips is wholly unnatural, the absolute mess your hair is is just plain out of character…and you don’t have any shoes?

When the wind tries to will the front door shut again, you put your palm against the wood and slam it open.

You spit, “Russians.” 

And in that moment Steve, Robin, Erica, and Dustin pop up behind you. You sway a bit when Steve puts his weight on your back, taking a moment to rest from all of that running.

And then the boys yell “DUSTIN!” 

And the pained look on your face, the one that embodies absolute badassery…it fades as you crack a smile. You let yourself be bumped against the door a bit as Dustin and Erica push past you, Robin, and Steve to reunite with his friends and her brother. 

“I’m sorry did you just…?” Nancy crosses her arms and steps forward. “Say Russians?” She chuckles a little. 

You and Steve become a little more lighthearted, saying “Yeah,” simultaneously.

Dustin jumps and breaks up the group-hug with his party. “Where?” He asks, neck popping up like a groundhog. 

Even Robin and Erica look around, nerve-wracked. 

You squint at the image of Eleven approaching Dustin, wetness and discoloration under her eyes. She taps him gently and when he whips back around and he damn-near tackles her to the ground. You step forward, the care-free look on your face on account of this reunion clearly gone to Nancy and Jonathan. 

You raise your chin and speak to Jonathan specifically without looking.

“What’s going on?” Mike and Will come over and hug you, Will laughing and Mike being more calm about it. With him, it’s more of a side hug. You ruffle his and Will’s a bit before Steve steps in and looks at them incredulously. He beckons, wondering where’s his hug and they bother to give him a weak one. 

Jonathan’s jaw drops and he looks to El then Nancy for answers as he runs his sweaty hands down his jeans. When he’s silent for too long your look at him. Poor, poor…adorable boy jumps a bit. 

He sputters, “We uh-El…Eleven she—“

“It’s the Mind Flayer.” Nancy says over his shoulder. You nod at Steve and Robin, and they both come around to join the conversation. Nancy purses her lips at Robin. You beat her to her question—

“This is Robin, works at Scoop’s Ahoy with Steve. She was also trapped by the Russians.” You point over your shoulder, and she waves faintly. “Go on.” You cross your arms and with your poise, Nancy suddenly feels that intimidation she’s way too familiar with. She deflates, reminded of you and you in high-school…never mean to her, never bothered, but there was this air of sophistication her and peers learned to be fearful of as compared to all the other jocks and cheerleaders (not to say you were one, but the majority of the ‘popular kids’ were. You got clumped in the genre). 

Still, Jonathan and Nancy are quiet. 

She squeezes Jonathan’s shoulder a little tighter. And for the love of wanting to keep the world existing, you roll your eyes and make your way over the kids where Mike and Will have caught up. 

“Hey! Hate to ruin this cute little reunion and your fun time but we need to swap information, now.” You soften up for El. “What’s this I hear about the Mind Flayer?”

She sniffles a bit. “It’s back.”

You nod with a strange smile conjured from your attempt to not spit out ‘no shit’. You run your hand over your jaw and just mutter, “Alright, alright…What do you have on it?” You look at Mike. “Do you know where it’s at?”

Mike sucks his lip in. He sighs before stepping forward to explain. “El said it said that it was building something.”

You lean back. “It spoke?”

Max pipes up, “Through Billy.” 

You click your jaw. “Huh.” Strangely, you don’t need all that much convincing.

Mike continues again. “Since it doesn’t have Will, it went to Billy for a vessel.”

“So Billy’s possessed?” Steve asks. You scoff and push against his head, guiding him toward the couch. Dustin helps with that, grabbing Steve’s arm and (much to Steve’s confusion and sputtering) pulling him to a cushion. Robin leans on you a bit, and to Jonathan and Nancy’s surprise, you don’t do anything about it. 

“He went all cuckoo!” Lucas rolls his finger in a circle near his temple. You’re taken back by that phrasing but okay. 

Mike gets back to expository mode. “The Mind Flayer possessed Billy, and Eleven just went into his memories to find the source—”

“Source of what?” Steve slurs.

“Jesus!” You throw your head back, arms still crossed. “Can you let the boy talk for one second, he’ll explain the answers to all of your questions if you just let him!” Steve slinks back into the couch. Dustin’s jaw is dropped, and he pokes at Steve with a sly smile before Steve slaps his hand away and holds his hand to his throbbing cheek. “Continue, please.” 

Mike blinks, surprised. “O…kay.” He shakes his hair out, and just when he thinks to stop you wave on for him to continue as you head into the kitchen and come back out to stand behind Steve and press a bag of frozen peas to his cheek. He puts his hand over yours but you still don’t move. The kids all go quiet at this strange, strange display of affection.

You urge, “Go on!”

“Uh, right! Sorry!” Mike sits down on the coffee table and looks up at you. “The Mind Flayer has been collecting an army. We call them the Flayed. We think Billy’s its main guy, and basically the big guns is the Mind Flayer made up of the melted flayed.” You and Steve wince together. Mike winces. He doesn’t think it’s cute…but it kinda is — anyways. “El just said how Billy and the Flayed are going to come here. They’re trying to stop her.”

Lucas chimes in. “Cause El closed the gate on him last year and royally pissed him off.” 

And so does Will, who sits on the arm rest. “So it’s not to spread. It’s just for her.” 

Mike nods. “Exactly.” 

You hum. “Okay…okay…Well uh, boy so we got news for you.” You chuckle nervously. You catch Jonathan’s eyes and you both look away on cue. For once tonight you sputter, caught up in your own nerves. But you shake them off and look at Mike. “There are Russians in Hawkins, and they have a lab under the mall…” you look to each person in the room. “They’re opening the gate.” 

Will scoffs. He’s much more offended than doubtful. “What?”

“They’re opening…the gate. We saw it. It’s this weird machine that’s shooting a laser at this wall — it’s exactly where the gate was and it looks like it did back then. They’ve just been working and working cause I figure if the energy stops for a second,” you snap, “it starts to shut again but clearly it’s large enough for the Mind Flayer to have gotten through.”

“We think the Mind Flayer might have been here all along.” You look up and Jonathan’s stepping forward. He has an arm around his waist and his other hand picking at his lips. You smile softly at his cracking voice…but you smile even wider (begrudgingly) at Steve.

“Oh great.” He presses the peas deeper into his face. “Is this ever gonna end?”

You shrug. “Space race dude. Doesn’t matter if they destroy the entire world while they’re at it. Gotta show off.” You two chuckle together.

When you look up, the whole group is wide-eyes at you.

You deflate. “What?”

Nancy chuckles, smirking. “Well, what is this?”

You and Steve look at each other. You speak in unison, “What is what?” Everybody goes a little crazy. Laughing, covering their mouths, letting their jaws drop. Jonathan’s enthusiasm is much less…but he’s still soft about it, smiling at you two in a proud way.

Nancy tilts her head. “The King and Queen are actually getting along? I wouldn’t have bet you two like each other in 50 years even if high school me saw this for herself…what happened to you?”

Robin shrugs. “Eh, having the shared trauma or horrible customers and horrible costumes.” You nod. “And like, the mediocre experience of being captured and tortured by Russians underground I’d figure does that to you.” 

You nod again, smiling at her. 

The laughing stops when there’s a faint screeching in the distance…it’s not high-pitched or squeaky. It’s low and followed by rumbling.

Everybody else seems to let it go somewhat, but you, Jonathan, Steve, and Nancy snap your heads toward the window.

The trees are rustling. 

You instinctively look at Jonathan, and in that moment you take your hand from Steve. You and Jonathan stand together behind Nancy.

“Do you guys hear that?” She whispers. 

You hum but Jonathan tries to convince himself that “It’s just the fireworks.” You look at him closely, and frown at the red bruise and subsequent cut on the left side of his forehead. You pad at it gently, and he jumps but accepts it, furrowing his brows at your similar cuts And then like that you look back to the window when another rustle is seen and heard.

Nancy turns to the kids. “Billy.” She nods at El. “When he told you this, it was here, in this room?” El nods. Nancy looks at Jonathan and you, even Steve when he jumps from the couch and looks around for that distant thudding.

Will (with a shaky hand) reaches for his neck. He chokes on his own breath. “He knows we’re here.”

You ‘adults’ look at each other again, and rush to the door. Jonathan opens it first and when you think to go ahead of him he holds you back. And when you think to go ahead of Steve, he grabs your hand and keeps you near him.

It’s nothing. 

Really. 

You stand together on the dirt road. Just a short distance back is Steve’s car. But just a short distance for the Mind Flayer in its new form is what’s between it and you, it’s spider-like features and its length, width is enough to make the thin trees around it snap and tumble. Despite not needing to, it purposely pushes itself side to side to knock down the thicker trees. 

Steve puts a hand to the small of your back, and likewise, Jonathan puts his hand on Nancy’s shoulders. Both boys usher you two inside with Jonathan staying back to hurry up the kids he’s spent most of his time with, and with Steve staying back to hurry up the kids (and Robin) he’s spent most of his time with. 

Before you get inside completely, you quickly reach for the side of the stairs where you find an axe. You force it out of the stump it’s in and as soon as you get it free, Steve tugs you inside. 

But despite the effort, you shove the axe (the handle) into Jonathan’s chest. He grunts with the weight, you shout a “Sorry!” and continue on while the others begin their routine — barricading.

Your palms are against the table as you try to think when you hear the back door open and see Nancy walking out. You hold a hand to Steve’s chest so he won’t come after you, saying “Stay!” As well as twirling your finger around to gesture the great need of the current room. 

You jog outside and watch her take a shotgun off a wall in Hopper’s shed.

“Hey!” You raise a hand when you’re not too far, and without thinking, she tosses you one. You fumble to catch it and manage (barely), but when she sees you looking at the tool completely bewildered, she hands you hers, already set up with bullets and everything.

“You know how to use that thing?”

“Uh,” you sputter, “N-no?” 

She cracks a smile and walks past you, quipping “Aim and pull the trigger.”

You wince and suddenly hold it with one hand, aiming it away from you. After a moment when you realize the stakes, you say ‘screw it’ to yourself and hold it closer, hold it proper. 

You kick the door shut behind you. Everything’s barricaded.

You stand by her, Jonathan, Robin (with a bat she found in the closet) and Steve, your backs shielding the kiddos stood in the middle of you. You mimic her, holding up your gun like she does and squinting to try and get an idea of aim. She nods, mutters “Good,” and admittedly boosts your ego a bit. 

You roll your shoulders, fwip your hanging pony over your shoulder with a flick of your neck…and wait.

It’s silent.

An eerie, uncomfortable silence.

Jonathan is letting the axe hop in his hands, switching their exact position to avoid his sweaty hands letting the wood become all slippery. 

Then the lamps begin to shiver, and the electricity in the room begins to crackle. 

Steve’s done his best and found himself a frying pan as well as the other children with makeshift weapons.

“It’s close,” Will says in the silence.

And then dust falls on you from the roof. 

You squint at it, hearing branches snap, seeing the trees rustle, feeling even the small mass of the falling teacups send waves of rumbling through the floor.

Max looks over her shoulder. “Where’d it go?”

She’s right…too silent.

Nancy inhales sharp, and you do too. 

In that moment one of the creature’s freakish arms tears through the cabin’s corner, and despite the little shield you guys made for the others, the group disperses as it shoots forward and straight toward Eleven. You did your best to be close to her, Max, and Will, shielding them against the wall but still the creature gets in her face and your arm throw out past her stomach isn’t stopping it from doing anything.

But Jonathan grunts and swings down his axe, splitting the creature’s top surface and splattering himself with the flayer’s mucus-like goo. He raises it up again and chops it. The flayer reels back, shrieking and trying to go for Eleven again, only to be hit and with another shriek it enacts vengeance, whipping itself against Jonathan and sending him crashing into the wall and the ground. He drops his axe and just as he starts to get up again, the creature still goes for him. Jonathan tries getting up but can only back into the wall. And your heart hurts like a son of a bitch at the picture.

Hurray for Nancy who steps in and shoots the thing, blood splattering on the carpet as it rounds to attack her.

She’s out of bullets.

“Shit!” She shouts, still trying to pull the trigger.

You feel like you’re just standing there, useless and hopping between your feet. With an annoyed grunt, you shout “Nancy!” And dare to throw her your gun. She catches it just as the creature is feet from getting right in her face. She shoots it in the mouth and it actually reels back this time and for a long time. You look frantically between it, Jonathan, and Nancy. 

The axe.

You run and slide (much to the pain of splinters and rug-burn in your bare feet), ducking under the creature and grabbing Jonathan’s axe. He’s still dealing with the incredible pain in his back, and he can only watch you bring the axe down on it some more. It’s so, so close to just about snapping in half and you can see the last bits of its tearing, gooey membrane. 

But when your arms are in the air it snaps its neck to look, and rushes for you. 

Jonathan feels just as you did moments ago. But with such close proximity, he wills himself to get on his feet just well enough to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you onto the floor in the corner with him. He holds you tight, arms finding their way to your chest as you slide down together. Your eyes are wide at the creature. 

Another shot is heard.

Nancy’s shot it. And when it does that same thing (whipping to look at her with his mouth of horrid teeth), Steve steps in pulls her from her corner just as the creature smashes itself into the wall. But when it gets back its energy and reels away from the two ready to attack again, Nancy’s gun again won’t shoot. 

You clap your hand over Jonathan’s wrist, and he can feel you squeeze. 

Nancy and Steve flinch. They’re ready.

They pop their eyes open, carnage evidently not taking place yet despite the creature’s intent and it’s screeching. You slap Jonathan’s arm, and together you gasp with joy seeing Eleven standing in the middle of the room, her arm stretched out and fingers tensing as she wills the creature away from Nancy. Her calm expression vanishes as she twists her wrist and pulls her elbow into herself, the creature snapping right where its ‘head’ would begin and El screaming when she gets the job done. Part of it flops onto the floor in a puddle of its own blood and mucus-like texture, and the other half shrieks before haphazardly pulling itself out of the cabin through the hole it came in. 

Max yelps as it flies out right beside her. 

You close your eyes and breath a sigh, Jonathan hugging you a little softer now and putting his forehead to your shoulder as you relish in the relief. 

But, reminded of the situations at hand, you both get up, helping one another. You go and grab Max, dragging her away from the window and you’re met by Steve, who in turn shields both of you and guides you away. Jonathan tries going for the others but that bit of energy he spent on you is gone now and he can’t ignore his fatigue or pain. He grips onto the wall but falls to his knees.

Through the wall where Steve was just about to guide you two, in comes another one of the Mind Flayer’s arm-creatures. You all yell and flinch, Steve pulling you two back and making sure to keep his head down when he’s reminded of the giant hole in the wall where the creature just came through that last time.

You make your way to Jonathan, sprinting while knelt. 

You grab his hand and try to help him up, Steve coming to the other side of him. 

Thanks to El, they’re stopped mid air, both of her arms occupied with keeping hold of the creatures. With heavy breathes and panting, and with a triumphant yell, she pulls her arms to her stomach and again splits them in half. 

While everything is silent and steady for a second, your stomach is still aching and you get up. 

Steve and Jonathan reach for you (Max too), with Jonathan better suited for your waist and Steve better suited for your shoulder. But you break from their grasp. They can’t shout their disapproval on account of how selfish that would seem with El being in the middle of the room doing all of the fighting. They can only huff to themselves and give a similar look of worry, though one also filled with contempt and jealousy for the other.

Jonathan has no romantic feelings. Not anymore at least. Steve wouldn’t admit he does, but he does. Still, their conflict at your varying degrees of closeness is what catches up to them. With you finding Jonathan and his outcast persona so fascinating from a young age, and being able to bond with Steve over the high school hierarchy and sharing a pack of kids. 

You start off knelt but come to stand fully, grabbing El by the shoulders and pushing her out of the way.

They don’t know why…by you looked up at the ceiling and saw more specks of dust. This creature is smart and wouldn’t make the same mistake of going through the walls or windows four times. 

You try to guide her forward, go with her.

But you scream = as the ceiling breaks open and the Mind Flayer wraps around your ankle. Your poor, bare ankle. Its flesh burns against yours and while being caught you slam your chin slams against the hardwood floor.

It roars and shrieks and so does everybody else, Jonathan keeping himself stable on a hopping foot and Mike and El jumping forward together to grab your arms and try desperately to pull you.

Mike’s completely out of his head about now, wanting to help you but (like you) wanting to get El out of the monster’s reach. He closes his eyes while mustering all his strength, and you can’t help but look up (in a disorienting manner) at the thing trying to eat you. 

Jonathan and Steve jump in next — Steve sharing an arm with El, Jonathan staring an arm with Mike. And then comes Max and Will — Max with Steve and El, Will with Jonathan and Mike. 

Mike and Will both open their eyes at the same time and look straight at the creature. Mike whimpers and forces his eyes shut again, muttering himself a mantra so he can get his damn strength and not have to watch his pseudo-older sister get eaten by this fucking monster.

His grip weakens for just a moment to readjust, and he yells “PULL!” the group collectively putting together strength they didn’t even know they could muster.

Nancy loads up her gun again, Jonathan shouting “NANCY! SHOOT IT!”

She manages and it snarls in pain.

“COME ON LUCAS!” Max yells for him.

He doesn’t know where to go or what to do. Robin points him toward the axe, and she runs and picks it up for him while she does. She hands it over and grabs the other gun, struggling to load it but managing well enough. Her aim isn’t the best but she lowers the gun with a wide, goofy smile on her face when she swears she hears it groan in response to her. Then she goes at it again. 

Lucas hops up onto the ottoman and screams as he hacks at the limb. Dustin, with not much more room available to hold onto your arm, keeps watch of Erica while running around the room screaming trying to find something to chuck into the creature’s jaws. He manages to chuck a few things he’s sure Hopper won’t miss (an ashtray, notably) but it doesn’t do all that much.

You’re still struggling and flailing, your breath after a point being so lost you can only breathe and ‘scream’ via deep exhales. 

Lucas starts to get frustrated, seeing progress but not as much as he would like. He hypes himself up, hopping between his feet on the ottoman, and gives the final blow his best shot.

He raises the axe behind his head, stumbles a bit before gaining his balance, then hacks the creature straight in half.

It screams and flails, the mouth inhaling part of itself before the sight of it through the ceiling flees and you fall forward. 

Steve catches you in his arms as everybody’s feet are pulled under themselves and they fall to the floor. Steve rolls on his side, holding you close and trying to coo you to comfort while wiping the sweat, mucus, and blood from your forehead. You would be so lovey-dovey, hugging him tight and chuckling madly in relief but still, the best you can do is laugh silently and even smiling is a chore. 

You collapse into his chest, your hand limp on his cheek and eyes bobbing to the back of your head before coming back around with every rumble of the house as the Mind Flayer does what it does.

The kids are all kneeling around you and Jonathan gently pushes Will and Mike apart so he can too. He puts his hands on the floor by your stomach. The slightest snap of a twig has him looking over his shoulder, and the slight ruffle of Lucas’ jeans on the carpet has him looking at him.

You can feel Steve press quick pecks to your face. He really doesn’t put much thought into them, but when he realizes, he can only be thankful he has the opportunity. 

Mike’s eyes go to your leg, where the other half of the creature is still stuck tight, nearly embedded.

He hypes himself up, bouncing on his feet before hopping up and running over. He gets a strong grip around it (as best as he can considering its slippery skin), and though Jonathan and Steve both spit out slurred “Wait Don’t!”s, Mike pulls it off and your let spurts blood.

You will yourself up off the floor just a tiny bit as you scream, neck craning back and eyes sticking shut with the pain. 

Mike winces at the sound, and after chucking the creature behind him (where it slithers out of the cabin) he hurries to your side, hovering his hands over your stomach and hoping for you to see his face so you can see just how sorry he is but how necessary that was.

Then the Mind Flayer, and Eleven hurriedly gestures Mike, Jonathan, and Steve to drag you off. Will stays behind Jonathan and Max and Lucas stay behind Mike, with Nancy, Dustin, Robin, and Erica assisting in hyping up El as she stands strong below the creature that burst through with the intent to kill her.

She raises her chin this time, not shying away, and she plants her feet. 

Jonathan holds onto Mike’s shoulder and pulls him back, the both of them looking between you and El with worry. 

The creature roars, its saliva splattering against all of you.

But even with this (Jonathan now shielding Mike, you, and Will while Steve cradles your head in his lap), she doesn’t flinch. She raises both arms close together and screams at the top of her lungs, her powers already proving themselves faster than they ever have before as the creature’s head starts to close in on itself.

The display is enough to jolt you awake and you’re trying to scoot even further from it. Steve holds you tighter and coos. 

You can imagine her now and you smile all loopy at the thought of her with all her strength and blood pouring out of both nostrils. 

You’re satisfied seeing the creature already begin to let free a pink liquid.

And you cackle despite being breathless when El rips it in two at the end with a blood-curdling scream.

She falls back into Max, and by now with Steve and Nancy helping you to your feet, you can reach just enough to hug El somewhat tight before you’re pulled apart and everybody starts to rush out of the cabin.

“Go go go!” Nancy yells. She takes your arm from around her shoulder and gives Robin the job. Jonathan holds the door open, doing copious double takes to make sure everybody is out of the cabin. 

Most of the group run to the Jeep.

But already knowing trying to get everybody to fit will be a hell of a hassle, Steve shouts for Robin, Dustin, and Erica to follow him “This way!” Back to his car. 

Jonathan stomps his foot against the dirt and screams “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!” 

Dustin yells back while hurrying backwards, “WE CAN’T FIT! WE’LL MEET YOU THERE!”

Jonathan looks so pained. He sees Steve pick you up while Robin grabs Erica’s hand. “WHERE?!”

“STARCOURT!” Dustin screams. Then runs. 

“JONATHAN, COME ON!” Nancy’s poking her head out the driver’s seat of the car. 

Jonathan mutters to himself. Even to him, it’s incoherent. He walks backward to the car, and only when he sees the Mind Flayer descend upon the cabin and tear it to pieces does he hurry into the car, Nancy hitting the gas before he even gets the chance to buckle. 

(Message me if you would like to be tagged whenever I post a Steve imagine!)

@stevieharrrr @songforhema @broadwayandnetflix @billyhargrovescigarette @bckysloki @christinawxxx @timeladygallifrey

[dvp95]

return the favour

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: explicit tags: smut, 69ing, early manchester flat days word count: 1.1k summary: They haven’t done this in a while.

ayyyy this is my 69th work on ao3 and i decided to celebrate that with some good old-fashioned smut. enjoy!

read on ao3 or here!

"You know what we haven't done in a while?"

Dan's voice is conversational, almost breezy, which would be a lot more fitting if he weren't working over Phil's dick with a tight grip. Phil grunts. Dan raises his eyebrows, as if he's waiting for a proper response.

"What's that, love?" he asks, fingers itching to tug Dan closer.

"Suck each other off at the same time," says Dan. His tone is still so casual, like he's commenting on the weather and can't feel the way Phil throbs at the suggestion.

"Well," Phil starts. He loses his train of thought when Dan twists his wrist a certain way, and it's only when Dan pointedly clears his throat that he remembers he was speaking. "Well, uh. We don't have to try and fit everything in anymore. Like, y'know, before someone calls us for dinner or you have a train to catch. We - god, please don't stop doing that - have more time now. I guess. Is probably why."

He's rambling. He's usually rambling when they're like this, because having Dan mostly dressed and calm on his thighs while he's being slowly taken apart in their living room is never not going to make him flustered.

Plus, the more he talks, the less Dan can say. It's honestly embarrassing how close Dan can get him just from a few choice words when he wants to.

"I think we should do that," says Dan. He smiles down at Phil, all dimples. He looks beautiful in the late afternoon sunlight, hair curling at the ends and bruises blossoming across his collarbones. They don't have anything planned for filming this week, so obviously Phil is taking advantage of it and getting his teeth anywhere Dan lets him. Dan leans close to press his mouth to the corner of Phil's, just for a moment. "I mean, not on the couch. But we should."

Phil blinks. "Like, now?"

"Sure," Dan says with a little shrug, one large hand still moving over Phil's dick. "I mean, again, not here."

"No, yeah," says Phil. He's not certain that they're making any sense, but he reluctantly pushes Dan's hands away from him. He needs to settle down a bit, or the first touch of Dan's tongue will send him over. "Let's go."

"Impatient," Dan laughs. Despite the teasing, he gets off Phil's lap and starts pulling off his scoop-necked shirt on his way down the hall, like he can't wait to get naked.

Phil takes a moment to catch his breath after watching Dan walk away. He hasn't been a teenager in a hot minute, but sometimes Dan still manages to make him feel like one. He kicks his jeans and pants off the rest of the way so he doesn't have to fight with them in front of Dan, and then he follows.

--

The thing is, Phil isn't exactly good at multitasking. It's hard enough for him to focus on using his hands and mouth effectively and simultaneously when he's just giving a blowjob, but it's even more difficult when Dan keeps taking him into his throat at the same time.

It should probably be embarrassing to be pretzeled like this, knees bracketing Dan's head while Dan's own legs stretch out to the foot of their bed, one hand holding himself up while the other holds Dan's dick in place. Phil doesn't feel embarrassed, though. He just feels good. He can feel Dan's blunt nails on the backs of his thighs, pulling Phil down into a rhythm that he's happy with. Phil has to keep pausing what he's doing, overwhelmed by it all, and he rests his forehead against Dan's thigh to try and get his head back in the game.

Dan doesn't seem to care about the break. He takes Phil's dick as deep as the position allows and encourages the small jerks of his hips.

There's a short moment, during which Dan lets Phil slip out of his mouth so he can breathe, where Phil thinks that maybe this is his chance to get Dan as close as he is. He spits on the head of Dan's cock and sinks down, revelling in the unmuffled noise it gets out of Dan.

"Fuck," Dan whines, planting his feet flat on the mattress and slowly, carefully thrusting up into Phil's mouth. Phil's hand stops it from going too deep and choking him, but the motion still makes them both shiver. "Yeah, fuck, faster."

Phil does as he's told, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing on Dan's dick like this is a weird sex version of Speed and he'll die if he slows down.

With a groan loud enough to guarantee a complaint from their neighbours, Dan uses his grip on Phil's thighs to adjust his stance a bit. He laves his tongue over Phil's balls but doesn't linger - he shifts them both a bit more, probably props himself up with an elbow, and then presses his tongue just that little bit inside Phil.

Phil's brain is short-circuiting. It barely takes five seconds before he needs to pull off Dan's dick again and curse through a blinding orgasm. Dan's hand wraps around his cock to help him through it while he licks Phil from the inside, and Phil feels like he's floating.

--

Phil isn't hard anymore, but that's not an issue. Sex with Dan is about more than just the finish line, and he never feels closer to Dan than when his legs are wrapped around Dan's waist and Dan's mouth is on his.

He's letting Dan set the pace, slow and steady, as he tugs at Dan's fully-curly hair, runs his palms down Dan's back, whispers nonsense in the space between their lips. Dan's cock never leaves his body, but the sensation of being completely filled on the apex of each thrust still punches little gasps from Phil's chest.

When his thigh starts to cramp up, Phil doesn't mention it. Instead he murmurs against Dan's lips, "Is that all you've got?"

Dan laughs breathlessly, like he knows exactly what Phil's up to, but it still works. He shifts up onto his knees and slams forward hard enough to make Phil whimper.

"Fuck," Phil breathes. One of Dan's big hands is on his waist and the other is flat against the mattress, using Phil's body for leverage as much as he's using the bed itself. Phil digs his nails into Dan's skin and makes noises that are maybe a bit performative until Dan's rhythm starts to stutter. He hasn't had to get Dan off with his voice in a while, now that they live together properly, but he still remembers how.

--

The sheets are disgusting and so is Phil, but he pulls Dan in for a cuddle anyway.

"Love you," he hums, rubbing his face into Dan's sweaty neck until Dan huffs and pushes him into the pillow.

"You too," Dan says, a little grumbly. He likes showering or at least wiping the sweat and come off them before Phil wraps around him like a koala, but Phil figures he can deal with it for a few minutes.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @theactualpiemaker donated $20, and requested Dean/Bobby, Stanford-era. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

John Winchester, Bobby thinks for the tenth--hundredth--thousandth time--is a real son-of-a-bitch.

“Come on, boy,” he says, not trying all that hard to be nice, tugging. “This isn’t the place you’re gonna die.”

“Feels like it,” Dean says, gasping, and--well, he might have a point.

There’s blood all over the snow, soaking in black in the night, and there’s pale flesh all torn on his leg, and if that claw nicked the artery--but there’s no way of knowing that for sure, and there’s no sense in worrying over it if it can’t be changed. Bobby tears off a long strip of the kid’s shirt, winds it around quick at the top of the thigh for a field-dressing, just in case. Feels Dean shaking, from the shock, and who can blame him. Still. “No one ever survived hunting by being soft, princess,” he says, and offers his hands to Dean. “No more laying around moaning about it. Up you get.”

Dean tips his head back against the snow, panting into the dark, but then curls up, puts his hands in Bobby’s. They slick together from the blood but that’s okay--Bobby just grips harder, their bones grinding--and together they leverage Dean up out of the puddle he’s making, and Dean makes a soft incoherent sound and staggers forward, fetching up hard against Bobby’s chest. Bobby wraps an arm around his shoulders, feels him breathing hard against his throat and chest, his body quivering. “Sack up, kid,” he says, but softer, and Dean grips into his jacket--more blood, and he’d liked this jacket--and leans into him harder for a second before he nods and pushes up, balancing on his one boot. Bobby grips his shoulder, nods back. “All right, then. Time to move.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean says, torn-up, and Bobby holds him up so they can stagger together.

This wasn’t his job. He’d sworn it off. John Winchester and his boys and all the terrible crap that came along with them. He’d nearly killed John, near-on a year ago, and it would’ve been well deserved if he’d followed through. Bastard. The boys followed with John, though, of course--although it turned out that Sam hadn’t. Then, damn him, if John didn’t start sending his other boy out on hunts on his own, like hunting alone wasn’t a surefire way to get hurt or killed no matter how many years of miserable training had been crammed down the kid’s throat, and that meant that when Bobby was in the area just investigating, wondering if there was any truth to what he’d heard about winter at Kabetogama Lake, he found Dean Winchester on his own, fighting off two shadows in the dark, and once those were taken care of he got himself saddled with a bloody kid, who never should’ve been out there in the first place.

He explains this to the shivering lump in the backseat--mainly talking so there’s something to keep Dean awake, because it’s colder than a happy hell and sleeping in that that plus bleeding out surely isn’t a good combination, in Bobby’s inexpert medical opinion. He further expands on his opinion of Minnesota in general, on the damn frozen lakes and the spirits that idiots dredge up out of them, and on boys who can’t wait for some damn backup before wading out into danger, and it turns out Dean is awake after all because he shifts at that, grumbles woozy: “Wasn’t like I had a choice.”

“Oh, yeah, that fight was just set in stone from time immemorial,” Bobby says, and in the rearview of his Chevelle he sees Dean’s eyes close, pained, and he bites his tongue against the other things he could say and steps on the gas, instead.

The cabin’s small but it’s got a good gas fireplace, and a wooden table that can hold a man’s weight--or a boy’s, when Bobby gets Dean’s ass settled on the edge and then makes him tip back. “I’m not going to lie to you, kid,” Bobby says, tearing at Dean’s jeans to show up the wounds in the firelight. Damn, that’s nasty. “This is going to suck. Royal-ass suck.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dean says, smiling brief and pale, and Bobby rolls his eyes but pats Dean’s belly, too, proud of him despite everything, and then there’s nothing for it but needle and floss and grain alcohol and holding Dean’s hand against the squirming when the holy water sluices out the wounds, and making him comfortable when he passes out, after.

Bobby carries him to the bed. Doesn’t seem right, even if he was a fool, to make him sleep on the table after all that. He strips off the bloody coat, the too-big flannel shirt, the boots and socks and jeans. His boxers are torn only on the one leg and his t-shirt’s black and if it’s stained Bobby doesn’t know about it, and he’s all paleness there in the bed--bloodloss and his face drawn, even sleeping, and his lips pale too. That amulet, the one Bobby let Sam have years ago, still slung around Dean’s neck. He touches the sharp little horns, lightly, and then presses his fingers to Dean’s throat, checking his pulse. There, steady. That’s about as much as Bobby knows to check for. He drags over the chair, settles down. This boy. All the things Bobby had hoped for him, had known he was a damn idiot for hoping for. Well. Bobby can look after him, at least. For now. For as long as he can.

A fever, the next day. Not unexpected, but a pain in the ass. “You Winchesters,” Bobby says, laying snow-wet t-shirts at Dean’s forehead and chest, trying to bring the temperature down. “Never giving me rest.”

“Sorry,” Dean says, shivering, and Bobby shakes his head.

“It’s no fun to tell you what’s what if you actually believe it, kid,” he says, and Dean blinks at him heavy-eyed, doesn’t understand. Just as well. He has to help Dean to the toilet, and tries to give him privacy for that and the cleaning up, and he pours a slug of the good whiskey down his throat later and, hey, Dean doesn’t hurl it right back up. That’s progress.

Dean talks, when he has a fever. Bobby’d forgotten that. When he was a little boy it was all cartoons and monsters, and talking to Sam whether or not his brother was there. That part’s not different.

“Sammy,” Dean mumbles, when Bobby touches his forehead. Sammy, when he wakes up, and Sammy when the middle-of-the-night gets too strange, and Bobby touches him then, too, and lays a heavy hand on Dean’s chest when he weeps, feverish and confused and overcome. He fall asleep with no fuss, when that’s done, and Bobby chews the inside of his lip and wonders. These two kids, and their dad. He never meant to get into the middle of it but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

Like it’s immutable? he thinks to himself, and shakes his head. He always had choices, and he made them. No matter what an idiot it made him. No matter what it cost, sometimes, when he sat awake in the middle of the night with a bottle in his hand, thinking of days that could’ve been.

Fever breaks in the middle of the night, on the second day. Dean wakes up soaked in sweat, shivering for other reasons. “I feel like ass,” he says, raw-voiced, and Bobby helps him up, takes him to the bath again. Enough water in the tank for a wash, and Dean strips down shakily, sinks down into the warm water with his bad leg propped over the rim. Bobby hands him soap, shampoo, lets him get on with it. Goes out into the main room and strips the sheets off the bed that smell like blood and feversweat, and then stands in front of the fire and tries to put the image out of his head. The things he could’ve done, and chose always not to.

Dean needs help, getting out. He struggles, splashing, trying not to ask--Bobby can hear him, from here. He goes to the doorway and finds Dean with his weak arms braced on the edge of the tub, his face miserable. “Your lungs not working, dumbass?” he says, but as kindly as he can, and Dean slumps back, defeated.

“Tired of this,” Dean says. He flicks his knee, above the line of the dressing that he’s managed to at least mostly keep out of the water. “Sorry, Bobby. Didn’t mean to--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby says, and Dean ducks his head. Bobby finds the other towel, flaps it out. “What’s your daddy thinking, anyway. Sending you out like this.“

Dean shrugs, awkward. “Gotta get used to being on my own,” Dean says. “I mean, with Sammy--”

He bites it off, like the name wasn’t supposed to pass his lips. That amulet’s still right in place, the leather black from the water. Bobby doesn’t respond but only offers his hands, and for the second time they lever Dean up to his feet--naked, shining, shaky. He shivers, in the cooler air, and Bobby wraps the towel around his shoulders and helps him step over the lip of the tub, and he’s closet and wet and just--sad, all the parts of him sad, from his feet to the damp crown of his head. Too young--that’s always been Bobby’s thought, with Dean. Too young, for everything that happened, and too young to be hunting, and too young for the weight of lives on his shoulders, and too young for--

Dean leans in against his chest. Like he did in the snow, only this time he’s warm. Bobby wraps an arm around his back and Dean curls his hand in Bobby’s shirt, and ducks his head under Bobby’s chin. He shifts his weight and the towel slips, swinging down to Dean’s hip, and Deans hand slides down Bobby’s chest to his stomach. He takes a breath. “Dean,” he says. Question, warning.

The hand pauses, holding there. The tips of Dean’s ears have gone real pink. Bobby holds for a second, and then puts his hand on Dean’s jaw, and forces it up so Dean has to look at him--and he does, to his credit, even if his face is red and his mouth’s a pursed disappointment. “I just miss--” Dean says, and bites that off too. All these things he says and doesn’t say. Bobby wants to know what means and simultaneously never, ever wants to go there. Dean’s eyes cut down, his jaw stiff in Bobby’s hand. He snorts, after a second. Bitter. “Wanted to not feel like shit for a second, I guess.”

Petulant. Sometimes he really is a kid. Bobby squints down at him, wondering--if it’s worth it, to be a sop-up, a second-best. Ports in a storm. He drags his thumb over Dean’s chin, presses up to his bottom lip, and Dean looks up at him. Bobby kisses him. Brief, more a brush of their mouths, his beard on Dean’s softer skin. He pulls back to see the look in Dean’s eyes and it’s--not shock, not regret. He looks blown-open. Like acceptance was the last thing he expected.

Bobby thumbs over his lip again, heat rising in him that’s been so long packed-down. All the things he never dared to look in the eye. Well. Here’s a choice to make, again. Dean’s hand curls against his stomach and his lips part. Bobby smiles at him, pats his cheek, and hopes that he’s making the right one.

[thisistenhyungsunderwear]

can you pls write a soft!dom!juyeon (tbz) smut?😳 tysm^^

Hi I hope this is okay!! 💓

Can't Focus

Group: The Boyz

SoftDom!Juyeon, Sub!FemaleReader

Warnings: Oral!MaleRecieving, KindRoughNotReallyButYeah

Word Count: 1506

"Juyeon I don't even know what an isotope is!" You said, frustrated with the one class you never have been able to understand. Your boyfriend sat across from you, an obvious amused smirk on his face.

"Baby, you chose to take this course so late, let's just get back to the basics yeah?." He said, grabbing your notebook and flipping it to a clean page. 

You were grateful for your boyfriend for helping you study, especially with how busy he was with his career, but you couldn't process anything, especially being so stressed out. You sighed and threw your head into your hands.

Juyeon saw this but decided to ignore it and give you a moment to reorganize yourself and your thoughts. He began flipping to a new topic in your book. 

"Come on baby, let's try this?" He said, pointing to a page that had a big word about electronegativity. You groaned for a minute, but an idea came to mind. You weren't in the mood to study but you knew Juyeon wouldn't let you stop for a while. 

You looked up at him innocently, his patient eyes meeting yours, waiting for you to get pulled together. You sat up and moved your seat closer to his, leaning in and pretending to read over the page. Juyeon leaned over your shoulder and read along with you so he would be able to help. 

You pretended to get more comfortable, and put your hand on his thigh and used the leverage to move your position, except you didn't take your hand off of his thigh. Instead you kept it there and allowed yourself to ignore his confused, hardening gaze. You skimmed the page, merely picking up a few words here and there about atoms and electrons, but you put most of your focus on moving your hand slowly upwards toward Juyeon's bulge. 

Once your hand met its destination, you turned your body toward your boyfriend and smiled.

"Baby, why don't we take a break," you said, rubbing him over his sweatpants, "I have an idea of something better we can do." 

Juyeon didn't reply, instead his gaze hardened as he watched you lick your lips, awaiting his response. 

"So ungrateful," he mumbled. "I try and help you study and here you are, trying to get in my pants huh?" He questioned, cocking his head to the side. His dark gaze never left yours as your face twisted into confusion. You began to sit up straight, but he grabbed your arm to stop you.

"No no baby, why don't you get on your knees and finish what you started. I've spent my time trying to help you, now it's your turn yeah?" He said, and his voice was laced with sarcasm and also frustration. 

You mindlessly followed his orders, confused why your normally patient and sweet boyfriend suddenly got upset. He wordlessly lifted his hips and slipped down his sweats just enough to release his member. He did nothing more then put his arms on the arms of the chair and wait for you to start. When you zoned out, lost in your own thoughts, he got impatient and put his hand in your hair, gathering it into a ponytail. Not necessarily pushing you down but sending you the message he wanted you to go.

You leaned forward and took his almost fully erect cock into your hand and gave it a few pumps before licking a stripe up the entire underside and taking him fully into your mouth. 

Juyeon groaned and gripped your makeshift ponytail a little tighter. You began bobbing your head up and down, pumping whatever you couldn't reach with your hand. 

"That's it baby, why don't you take my whole cock in that pretty little mouth of yours." he said, thrusting his hips up a little bit, making you gag. You pulled back and took a deep breath before going down as far as you could make yourself, but immediately came back up for air.

Juyeon tsked above you, "Now baby you know you can take much more than that for me can't you?" He asked, snaking both his hands to your scalp before pushing you back down, this time much further than you went before. You started to choke but Juyeon refused to let you up then. He held you down for a few seconds longer, throwing his head back in pleasure.

What felt like forever to you in reality was maybe 10 seconds, he finally let you come up from air. You came up from his cock and took a deep breath, a string of saliva still connecting you two. Juyeon gazed down at you, before moving his chair backwards. 

"On the bed baby." He said, short and straight to the point. He stood up and walked over to your shared dresser before digging into it, looking for a condom. You watched him for a moment before standing up and walking over to the bed, and sitting down, patiently waiting for your next instruction. 

"I really wanted tonight to just be about us studying and relaxing, but you are just too distracted and not into it. Wasting my, our, time with this. If you didn't want to study you should've stopped us a lot sooner baby." Juyeon spoke out loud, and even though he was talking, it felt like he was making a point to himself and not you. He walked over to you while simultaneously removing his t-shirt and sweats on the way. You took this as a signal that you should probably follow in suit, ridding yourself from your shorts and tank top. Leaving you in nothing but your black panties. 

"Thank you princess," He said, acknowledging your actions, "Now why don't you be a good girl and get on your hands and knees."

You immediately did as you were told, and even though he was upset with you, you were about to get fucked. Who cares if he's frustrated, so were you. And what's a better way of getting frustration out?

You felt the bed dip behind you and Juyeon's hands slip to the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down enough to reveal your soaking core.

"Awe did baby get this wet by herself?" He said, spreading you apart to get a better view, "What a pretty pussy." 

Juyeon wasted no time from that point forward, and took his cock in his hand and pushing himself fully into you. Normally he would give you a moment to adjust, but this time he just started thrusting into you, snapping his hips slowly but harshly. 

You moaned out, a slur of curse words following each time his hips met yours. "Baby please, faster oh my god" You whined, bucking your hips backwards to meet him.  

Juyeon said nothing as he kept his brutally slow pace. You continued to moan, wanting more from him but you decided not to ask. Instead you took your arm down to your core and began to rub your neglected clit. Juyeon took no notice to this until your moans became louder and more intense. Almost as if a switch went off in him, he grabbed both of your arms and held them behind your back, giving you nothing to brace yourself on but your shoulders.

"So i fuck you but its not enough? Okay baby, lets go faster then." He said before setting a brutally fast pace as he pounded into you. The sound of skin slapping and the headboard banging sounded through the room. Your mouth gaped open, an almost silent scream sounded as intense waves of pleasure washed over you. Juyeon never once stopped, if anything he tried to go faster. 

"Fuck- I'm gonna cum" You moaned out, the oit in your stomach filling up. 

"Fucking do it baby, cum on my fucking cock." He moaned out, holding your arms tighter. It only took you seconds to release, your walls tightening and relaxing around Juyeon's cock. Your let out a moan, or more like a yell as the immense amount of pleasure surged to your core. 

"Shit" Juyeon hissed, his thrusts slowing down as came, your orgasm milking him clean. His strength left his body for a moment as he released your arms and let your body fall down. You stayed like this for a moment before he pulled out and took off the condom. 

You were still on the bed, collecting yourself from one of the most intense orgasms you ever had. Juyeon stood up and left the room wordlessly. You faintly heard the bathtub start and Juyeon's footsteps come back to the bedroom. He stood at the side of the bed and looked down at you, before taking you into his arms bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom.

"I love you baby." You said quietly, kidding his collarbone.

"I love you too princess," He said, resting you down on the bathroom counter, "Now let's get you cleaned up."

[sugatsby]

Hole-and-Corner

Group: GOT7 Pairing: Choi Youngjae x Reader Rating: Angst | Fluff Prompt: But doctor’s were meant to help people, right? AU: Mafia!AU Word count: 15,5K

Warnings: swearing | violence | mentions of blood

“I’m leaving!”

“Okay! See you later!” your roommate yelled back from behind her bedroom door. She was still running around, getting ready for the day. You heard shuffling and rummaging around. At some point you heard something crash to the floor. You shook your head. Even though she’s always up before you, you were always the first to leave to leave the apartment.

Swinging the strap of your bag onto your shoulder, you snatched your set of keys from the small table in the hall and made your way downstairs. Your apartment building was small, but pretty cosy. It was also pretty close to the campus, which was one of the reasons you decided on moving in here during your first year. Also, you needed to get as far away from your family as possible. That didn’t really turn out the way you wanted it to when you fell in love with the university in the same city. But at least you lived on opposite sides of town now, barely crossing paths.

As you made your way down the street, you soaked in the warmth of the sun. Even after the meteorological start of this year’s spring season, you hadn’t seen much else than grey clouds lately, so you welcomed the sight of some bright blues. Today was going to be a good day.

You plugged your headphones into your phone while simultaneously scrolling through your playlists. You were so engrossed in looking for one of your favourite songs, you didn’t notice the figure ahead. It was only when you crashed your shoulder against the person that you glanced up.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you offered. “Guess I shouldn’t be looking at my phone while walking.” You tried to laugh it off.

The brunette you bumped into, however, didn’t seem to find it funny. The scowl on his face was a dead giveaway.

“Er… I-I really am sorry,” you stammered. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

The serious frown on the man’s face didn’t budge. And neither did he. Your smile faltered when you realised he didn’t seem so forgiving.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going,” you said, trying to step around him and remove yourself from the situation. But the man put himself in your path. “I’m sorry, but I really need to-”

Before you were able to finish your sentence, you felt another presence, arms coming over you from behind. One grabbed you across the shoulders to hold you in place. The other moved in front of your face, a cloth getting pressed against your nose and mouth. You struggled, trying to break free. Your phone slipped through your fingers and crashed to the pavement. Your cries got muffled by the piece of fabric and no one else seemed to be around to help you. A sweet, slightly-chemical smell invaded your senses, and that’s when you realised that this situation was really, really bad.

You tried to hold your breath, not wanting to inhale any of the chemicals, but struggling took effort. Your eyelids started to grow heavy as you breathed in the nauseating scent, your limbs turned to jelly, and your consciousness started to fade. The last thing you heard was a car screeching to a halt near the sidewalk and its sliding door opening before everything turned dark.

You struggled to open your eyes. A groan escaped your lips. It felt like you’d been hit by a truck. You were pretty sure your tailbone was bruised by the way your behind was feeling. You tried to move your neck and shoulders, trying to get the strain off of them, but your arms, awkwardly bend behind your back, didn’t give. Your eyes were now wide open.

“Fuck.” Your voice was a mere whisper, your words getting swallowed by the darkness of the space around you. You tried to wriggle around, feeling nothing but rough concrete around you. This was not good. Not good at all!

You tried not to panic, but you couldn’t help it. A sob escaped your parched lips and your shoulders started to shake against the coarse wall you’d been propped up against. While the tears began to drip down your cheeks, you failed to notice the approaching footsteps on the opposite side of the room. A door swung open, a beam of light falling into the room. The contrast against the dark room blinding, you squinted your eyes against the brightness poured onto your slumped figure. A shadowy silhouette made its way into the room, its heavy footsteps echoing against the walls before a mocking voice called out.

“I see daddy’s girl has awakened…”

“Good,” another voice followed. One shadow became two as the men further entered the room. “I have some questions for her.”

The latter passed the other male before squatting down in front of you. “Now,” he began, his hand reaching outward to brush your damp cheek. “We want to know where your dad is. And we thought that maybe you would be so kind to help.”

His voice sounded sickly sweet, his tone mimicking his actions. However, you weren’t fooled. His gestures only added to your discomfort. “My dad’s dead,” you stammered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As soon as those words left your lips, your captor’s eyes turned into menacing slits. And before you even registered what his intentions were, your head got pulled back, the man’s hand finding purchase in the hair at the nape of your neck. It didn’t hurt, but the awkward angle only put more strain on the muscles that were already sore.

“Don’t lie to me, princess. He’s very much alive, taunting me after stealing from me.” You can hear the venom dripping from his words. There was cold rage in his eyes. “Your stepdad has been running from us long enough. I want my money back. Now, where is he?”

The man dug his fingers into the sides of your jaw, making you look at him. The pain made you flinch. “I don’t know,” you sobbed. “I haven’t spoken to that man in years. I don’t even know if he still lives there!”

“Lives where?” the man sneered, his fingers pressing into the bruises that were already forming along your cheeks.

“O-on the east side of town…”

Finally the grip on your jaw fell away and the man straightened up. “Jinyoung. Give me the phone,” he ordered, his hand beckoning his partner impatiently.

The man behind him, Jinyoung, stepped forward and placed a black device in his hand. He fumbled with the phone and spoke again, his gaze not moving from the object in his hands.

“Now, you will tell me the address and we’re gonna send him some pictures. I guess he forgot who he’s dealing with.” He held up the phone, an ominous smirk on his face. “Maybe this will serve as a reminder,” he said before the shutter went off, the sound echoing against the walls.

You didn’t know for how long you’d been lying in the same position. Everything was stiff. Everything hurt. Wriggling around when you were still bound had caused the twine of your restraints to cut into the skin of your wrists and for the rough cement of the floor to scrape your bare arms to the point of drawing blood. The darkness of the room had stolen away any notion of time. You felt empty. Alone in the shadows. By now you had stopped struggling. It only brought pain, and you were never going to get out of here on your own. Your captors had probably thought your stepdad would come running, like a dog with its tail between its legs, doing whatever he could to get you out of there. But you knew that’s not how he was.

The man was stern and harsh, the epitome of the crime boss JB had told you he supposedly was. He had never liked you much. Your mother had fallen for him pretty quickly after your father died. You’d always thought that it was her way of coping with things. Doyun wasn’t good for her, however. At first you thought he was just under a lot of stress from his job but, as time progressed, you found out more and more about how obsessed he was with power and control. Standing at the head of his own company wasn’t enough for him, so he took his job home.

Your mother was still oblivious to it all, though. You had tried to convince her that her relationship with him wasn’t okay, but she turned a blind eye, accepting the situation. You guess the money had something to do with it. However, you couldn’t deal with him, even when the house was big enough to avoid him most of the time. You decided to choose for yourself, moved out, and never looked back.

Doyun didn’t give a damn about you. But these people didn’t know that. They probably thought that knocking on daddy’s door with you as leverage would be an easy way to get their money. Little did they know that he couldn’t care less if you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere. A kidnapping would most likely not change his mind.

You had a glimmer of hope that the message might reach your mother first, but even if it did, you’d doubt she would act on it. She had changed and you wondered if she would care enough to do anything.

You felt numb, forgotten and alone. Broken. The only sliver of light in your darkness was the man that came into the room two times a day – you guessed without any sense of time – to feed you. At first, you shied away from him, afraid to have someone lay their hands on you once again. You thought perhaps he had felt your discomfort and kept silent. He didn’t do anything besides quietly putting down his tray in front of you before walking off, leaving you alone again.

You hadn’t touched the food the first couple of times he had come by, afraid it was laced with something. After not eating for what seemed like days, he had finally spoken up.

“You should eat,” he said.

His voice was gentle, and you felt yourself thinking that it fit him. Everything about him was the total opposite of the man you encountered that first day. The young man with kind eyes hadn’t once tried to lay a hand on you without your permission. He had continuously asked to take a look at your bruises and cuts. When you finally let him, he had examined them carefully, each touch soft and soothing. He was the one that undid your ties.

“Wouldn’t want your hands to fall off,” he explained.

You were surprised to learn that Youngjae – that was his name – was a doctor. A medic. A person that helped people for a living. He puzzled you. How would a person like that end up… here? But, you were glad to have him, as he was the only friendly face around lately.

It seemed like time crawled, although you wouldn’t know. You’d been staring into the dark void for quite some time. You hadn’t heard anything from the outside world. Did they send the message to your stepdad? Did it arrive? Did they even find him? Did anyone else realise you were missing?

The longer you laid there, staring at the direction of the door, the slimmer you felt your chances of getting out of there alive becoming. You felt hopeless.

A creak from the door one day made you look up. It was Youngjae with his usual tray of food and water. He silently made his way over and placed the tray on the floor. You didn’t make any move to get up, too forlorn to even lift a finger.

Youngjae tilted his head sideways, looking at you with pity. “You have to eat, ___”

You kept staring ahead, your lips pressed together in a straight line. When you still didn’t make any move to sit up, Youngjae lifted you up into a seating position, his hands tucked underneath your arms. When he let go, your arms dropped at your sides like dead weight.

“Come on, ___. Eat,” Youngjae insisted, scooping up some of the porridge onto a spoon before bringing it to your lips.

That’s when your eyes started to glisten and tears welled up in your eyes, the slightest act of kindness breaking your façade. “It won’t work, you know…” Your voice cracked. “He won’t pay.”

The young man looked up, concerned. He put the spoon down onto the plate next to him, before wiping away a tear from your cheek.

“I’m gonna be here forever, aren’t I?” you sobbed. “Why don’t you just kill me now and be done with it?! Why-” Your voice cracked and the tears came streaming down your face, sobs wracking your body.

Youngjae was slightly taken aback by the desperation in your voice, but immediately reacted by pulling you into a warm hug. One of his hands found purchase on the back of your head while the other pressed soothing circles onto your lower back. You found comfort in the firmness of his hold and the sound of his heart beating against the inside of his chest. You let it all out.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you sniffed. “I can’t.”

“Shh…” He whispered soothing words against the shell of your ear. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

You didn’t believe him. If these people were capable of kidnapping and blackmailing, surely murder wouldn’t be far down on that list either.

You had cried onto Youngjae’s shoulder until you couldn’t cry anymore. Your body was still shaking when he left, having left the tray of food on the ground beside you. You couldn’t eat. You must have been down there for at least a week and nobody had made a move to save you. Your hope – and will for that matter – to get out of there alive had started crumbling more and more.

It didn’t take long for the door to open again after Youngjae left. An hour maybe? You weren’t sure.

“___?” Youngjae’s voice quietly called out. But you didn’t respond. He walked into the room further before holding out a hand. “Do you think you can walk?”

Youngjae had let you outside. The room in which you were held captive seemed to be a part of some type of storage building. The square building was merely part of the grounds that held an even bigger building.

Facing that building, it looked scary and striking, the grey bricks contrasting with the oranges and pinks of the evening sky. But as soon as you were let inside, Youngjae’s hand continuously in contact with your upper arm, you were pleasantly surprised. The walls in the hallways were painted a pinkish beige, gold accents lining the wooden details. You found yourself gaping at the sophistication of the interior of the rooms you passed. What was this place? A mansion?

As it turned out, the answer to that question was yes. Yes, it was.

With Youngjae’s help, you managed to climb up two flights of a dark oaken staircase before he lead  you to a beautifully and delicately decorated bathroom.

“Take your time to freshen up. You’ll feel better afterwards,” he explained with a tender smile before closing the door behind him, leaving you to stand in the middle of the luxurious lavatory.

Now what?

You moved toward the sink, placing your hands on the cold marble. There was a person standing in front of you, staring right back at you through the mirror. She didn’t seem like your usual self, the image unrecognisable. Her face was gaunt, and her complexion pale. Anyone could guess how little she’d been sleeping by the purple circles under her eyes. The bruises on the side of her face had faded into a disgusting green-yellow colour. You closed your eyes, unable to look yourself in the eyes anymore.

A sigh escaped. When Youngjae had reached out his hand to you, you had thought that maybe he’d pitied you enough for him to let you go. But when the mansion came into view and he brought you inside, you knew you had gotten your hopes up.

This entire situation was unexpected. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about making a run for it. The only issue: Youngjae was right outside. And there was this house... There might be others walking around, ready to catch you in the act. You would be much worse off then.

You let out another sigh. You supposed you might as well use this opportunity to clean yourself up like Youngjae had proposed.

An unfamiliar voice on the other side of the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, but you knew that there was something going on when Youngjae responded.

“I’ll be right there.” Then he knocked on the door. “___, will you be okay for a minute? I’ll be right back.” Then his footsteps moved away, the thud of each step on the carpet sounding softer than the one before.

It was as if your prayers had been heard. This was your chance! This was your one shot to escape.

You straightened up and made your way to the door, your ears strained. But everything seemed quiet. You reached out for the door handle, but you could not bring yourself to push it down. You thought of Youngjae and how he had tried to make you feel as comfortable as possible. He had been so nice, considering the circumstances and as far as kidnappers go. He was gentle and caring. You shook your head. No, this was your chance. If no one was gonna save you, you might as well do it yourself. You had nothing to lose.

You shot a quick prayer and pushed the handle down. The door opened without struggle, and as you peaked your head out the door, the hallway seemed empty. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Next step, and the most difficult one, was getting downstairs and out of this house without being seen.

The floorboards underneath the carpet creaked as you placed one foot over the threshold. You tried to hold back your curses, as it would draw attention to your escape. As quietly as the old, wooden floor let you, you started to make your way down the hallway.

You were about halfway down the long hallway when you heard voices. You froze, too afraid to take another step and give yourself away. The voices grew louder, which meant the people these voices belonged to were getting closer as well. You told yourself to make a break for it. However, your legs didn’t want to cooperate. Grounded to the floor, your legs were shaking out of fear or simply out of fatigue. It might as well have been a combination of both.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

When a heavy voice called out to you, your legs were finally moving. It took a lot of effort, but you were running.

“Hey!”

With the sound of heavy footsteps on the carpet behind you, your heart rate spiked. You needed to get out of here!

You dug through your memories, trying to remember which way you came. Good thing you were good at directions. The footsteps were coming closer, your fear of getting caught reaching a new high. Just past this corner was the main staircase, you remembered. Just a little bit more…

The staircase was in sight when you felt your legs fail you. No! Not now!

But you were exhausted and your legs were shaking, the situation had taken its toll on your body. Your muscles totally seized up when you arrived at the top of the old staircase. Unable to catch yourself with a next step forward, you felt gravity pull you down. With the momentum you built up from running, you toppled forward.

The first thing you felt was a pop in your ankle, which bended the wrong way after a failed attempt of trying to catch yourself, followed by a throbbing pain. The thump you felt almost directly after came from your knee meeting one of the steps forcefully. After that, however, your head connected with the edge of another and, before your body was even halfway down the staircase, you got knocked out cold.

You woke up with a throbbing pain in your head, your eyelids heavy. You frowned. Ugh. Not again…

You blinked, trying to adjust to the brightness, before the shadow of a person started to take shape above you.

“Good. You’re awake,” a familiar voice murmured.

“Youngjae?” you croaked.

“Yes,” he said when your vision cleared. “I’m here. How are you feeling?”

“Sore.”

He managed a sympathetic smile. “I can imagine. You made quite the nosedive.” He moved to grab something from behind him. You found out a second later the object he grabbed was a flashlight as he waved it in front of your face. “Look at me.”

You did. Youngjae eyes looked over you intently. You ended up admiring him from up close, despite the bright light shining into each of your eyes. His lashes were dark and long, perfectly surrounding his slightly slanted eyes. His eyes were small, but beautiful nonetheless with their rich brown irises. Under one of his eyes you discovered a freckle for the first time, the light in the room revealing the small details you hadn’t been able to see in the darkness in which you first met.

“You don’t seem to have sustained a concussion,” he said, shaking you out of your reverie. Then he drew away, straightening up. “Other than a sprained ankle and some bruising, you’re alright. I expect your headache to be gone by the end of the day, but prepare to feel a little stiff over the next few days.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, the only thought whirling in your mind being your way out being compromised. You failed. And with a swollen ankle you most certainly wouldn’t be able to try it again anytime soon. You were done for. A tear made its way past your lashes when you realised you fucked up your only chance of getting your freedom back.

“I’m never getting out of here, am I? I might as well be dead…” Your voice sounded fragile, broken, all hope lost.

The doctor placed his hand on top of yours, the action calming. “For now just get some rest, okay?” His other hand cupped your cheek before he leaned in, his breath fanning your cheek. “You’re gonna be fine,” he whispered before you feel his soft lips on the corner of your mouth. “I promise.”

A couple of days later, there was still no news about your fate. You had been confined to one of the rooms in the house. You had tried to leave the room once, but you were immediately send back by the man keeping guard outside your door. You figured they considered you a flight risk even though Youngjae kept insisting it was because he needed to make sure you got enough rest.

The time you spent in your room was divided between spending time with Youngjae and thinking. You had come to find Youngjae’s presence soothing. He was the sole reason you were able to hold onto your sanity all this time. But there was still no news from home. You were grateful for Youngjae, you really were. But you had to take matters into your own hands again. You just needed to approach it differently. The remainder of the time you had spent thinking, brooding over a plan to get yourself out of here. Winging it clearly didn’t get you very far last time.

One morning you were woken up with the request to go downstairs. The young man in front of your door, however, told you that it was more of an order than a suggestion, so you didn’t dare to keep whoever was expecting you waiting.

While making your way down the dreaded staircase, your escort right beside you, you tried to figure out what was going on. “What’s happening? Where are you taking me?”

But he didn’t answer, his stoic expression unchanging. The man was tall and slim. You wouldn’t think him to be a very strong opponent in a fight, but you weren’t willing to find out. A serious frown marred his face, but his features seemed boyish to you. He was definitely the youngest person you’ve encountered here so far.

You let out a disappointed sigh at his lack of an answer. From the corner of your eye you noticed his stern façade crack a little. It seemed like some of these men weren’t completely immune to emotions…

At the bottom of the staircase, he took you along another hallway. It was similar than the ones you’d walked – or ran – down before. It was less detailed and more muted, the colour of the walls a little darker. You were still looking around, fidgeting, when all of a sudden you bumped into a solid form.

“Oh, sorry,” you said.

Your escort had stopped walking, halting in front of a door. He scoffed and shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, but he still kept his lips sealed. He knocked on the door in front of him before entering.

Your heart was pounding, reverberating in your throat, but you felt obligated to follow. Before you sat the man you met that dreaded first day. He sat behind his desk, looking up from his work as you made your way in.

“JB, she’s here,” the man beside you spoke.

“Thank you, Yugyeom. You can go now.” The man dismissed him with a wave of his hand before letting his gaze fall onto you. “So,” he spoke, while moving up from his seat. “What am I going to do with you?”

The man called JB moved around his desk, slow and calculated steps making your heart beat faster. Even though you were not tied up and sprawled across a concrete floor, he still didn’t seem less scary. He was intimidating and each and every atom in the air around you buzzed because of it, pressing down on you.

The man leaned back against the wooden frame, a hand in his trouser pocket. “As you may have noticed, we haven’t received any response from your family.”

You couldn’t help but wince a little, even though you tried so hard to keep your face as emotionless as possible. The words didn’t come as a surprise, but the realisation that there was no one out there to help you still hurt.

The man looked at his shoes. “This simply won’t do.” He shook his head disapprovingly, before once again fixing his intense gaze on you. “I’m gonna need my money back, ___.”

You felt the blood rushing in your temples at his threatening statement. You were so on edge that you winced when he moved to straighten up before starting to pace around the room unhurriedly. The heels of his designer shoes clanking on the floor boards were deafening in the heavy silence hanging in the office. And with each clang your demise seemed to draw nearer.

He stepped closer before bending down to your height. His voice was a whisper, insistent and stern. “I want my money, and you’re gonna help me get it.”

His menacing voice made a chill run up your spine. You were about to answer him with a shaky voice, but – gladly – you got interrupted by the door slamming against the wall.

“What are you doing?”

Youngjae’s voice came as a surprise for both you and JB, causing the latter to move away slowly, giving you space to breathe again.

“Why is she here?” Youngjae continued, slightly irritated.

JB shrugged. “I’m trying to strike a deal with her. Since her daddy doesn’t respond, we need to come up with another way to get our money back. And she’s gonna earn it for us.”

“No,” the young medic simply stated, shocking both you and JB. Was it okay for him to talk to JB like that? Wasn’t he like… his boss?

“No?” JB asked mockingly.

“No. She’s not going to partake in any of this.” There was a fire in his eyes that left his boss at a loss of words. “I won’t let her-”

“I’ll do it,” you cut him off.

“What?” Youngjae exclaimed.

Before letting him get another word in, you continued. “On my terms.”

“Well,” JB mused. “The girl’s got spunk.” He walked back to his desk, taking a seat behind it. “Talk to me, girl.”

“___, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Youngjae said, placing his hand on your arm as if trying to stop you.

You ignored him and took a deep breath to gather your courage. You had enough time to think about the next step when you were confided to your room. And now it was the time to put that plan into action. “I don’t know what you had planned for me, but I’m sure I have a better way of getting us both what we want.”

JB’s eyes sparkled at your words, a mixture of surprise and mischief. Good, you thought. He’s interested.

“You’re going to let me go and I’ll make sure you get your money.”

The boss started to laugh. It wasn’t a humorous laugh. Instead, the sound caused the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end. But as quickly as it came, it subsided and the ominous frown was back on his face. “Don’t take me for a fool, girl. I’m not gonna let you simply walk out of here.”

“Not even if I promise to bring Doyun down.” Your daring offer met silence. JB’s eyes were squinted, out of suspicion or curiosity you couldn’t tell. “Believe me, I hate Doyun as much as you do right now. I want him to pay.” There had been a determination in your eyes that hadn’t been there ever since you ended up in this nightmare.

“But, ___-” Youngjae objected. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into!”

“I’ve got an idea. Now,” you turned back to JB. “Do you still want to hear the rest?” The man in question nodded, giving you permission to elaborate. “So, you are going to let me go and I’m going home. I’ll snoop around. When I find something interesting, I’ll report back. You can use this information for an ambush, or whatever you guys do when you want to get back at your enemies.”

It was silent in the office when you finished speaking. JB seemed to be mulling all of it over when you looked at him expectantly. The man next to you looked at you in disbelief before turning to the man behind the desk, a questioning look in his eyes.

Then, JB’s voice cut through the silence. “Okay.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Youngjae displayed a similar reaction, probably relieved you weren’t losing your head yet.

“However,” JB leaned forward in his chair, his tone menacing. “one word about us, one wrong action, and you’re mine.”

You didn’t know what JB had in store for you if you messed up, but you weren’t planning on finding out. Youngjae had tried to talk you out of what you were about to do, but it was too late to turn back now. You were adamant on taking Doyun down, especially after all you had to go through at his expense.

Youngjae had expressed his worry in more ways than one. He tried to warn you of JB, of your stepdad, that it was too dangerous. He even tried to postpone everything by telling you weren’t ready to go out yet with your injuries. But you wouldn’t listen to him. And now you were here, in front of the mansion you’d called home before going to university. You hadn’t lived here for long, not standing the person you had to live there with. It was a beautiful house, you had to give Doyun that. But the more you looked at it, the more the beauty got overshadowed by the amount of bad memories you had of your mother’s abusive relationship.

You let out a breath, gathering the courage to make your presence known. You didn’t quite know who knew about your situation or if there was anyone who had noticed you were missing. Doyun had to have been one of the few however. The gang had send him multiple messages to try and get him to act, to provoke him, but probably none of them had seemed to be worth responding to. You and the guys had agreed you would tell him you had escaped by yourself somehow, but for the general public, you had just come back from an impromptu road trip with your friends from uni.

You pressed the right buttons on the outer gates of the property and within five seconds, the buzz of the gates being opened rung out. You made your way inside, slightly apprehensive. You were going to have to lie to your mother. You never liked lying, but it was for a good cause, at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Before you were able to walk all the way to the mansion’s giant front doors, they swung open, your mother appearing in the opening before running outside to envelop you in a hug.

“___! Oh my god! What-” She pulled away, looking you in the eyes. “Where have you been? We were so worried!”

You were unable to answer when she tightly squeezed you against her again. We? Yeah, right.

Over your mother’s shoulder, you could see Doyun appearing on the top of the small staircase outside. Never in your life could you have imagined that face belonged to a worried man. He had a disgruntled frown on his face. Everything about him told you he wasn’t expecting this. You could have guessed: the man never liked it when things happened out of his control.

You squinted your eyes at him, not afraid to show your anger toward him. You needed to talk.

“I’m okay, mom,” you said, patting her on the back. “I just got back from a road trip with my friends.”

Your mother pulled back. “You were what?! We thought something happened to you!”

“I’m sorry,” you looked down, remembering the story. “It all just was very spontaneous and I forgot to tell you, and then my phone died… I’m so sorry.” You were truly sorry. Just not for the reason she thought you were.

“Well…” she let out a tired sigh. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Let’s go inside.”

With her hand on the small of your back, you passed Doyun on your way inside the house, a strict expression on his face. You remembered that face. It was the face he made before another one of his guards got replaced by another. You made sure to look him in the eye, unwavering.

When your mother had finally calmed down and made her way out of the living room, you were finally able to confront Doyun. However, you didn’t have to breach the subject yourself: he did it for you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His eyes were still piercing, the muscles in his jaw rigid. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

You scoffed, incredulous. “Oh, yeah. I know. It’s a good thing I know how to fetch for myself, because you certainly didn’t help anything.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, so you have no idea about what I had to go through this last two weeks?” This time you felt your anger rise, the boiling point in sight. “No ransom notes? No photos on your doorstep?”

Doyun shook his head calmly. “I only found out about what happened two days ago. Your mother insisted that something was wrong. I tried to figure out a way to get you out of there, but here you are now.”

Your eyes crinkled in anger. “And why exactly didn’t you tell mom about this?”

He let out a content sigh before answering, like he expected your question. “I guess for the exact same reason you didn’t tell her the truth either. I didn’t want to worry her.” Then he leaned forward, his elbows pressing down on his thighs. “Now, tell me. How did you manage to get out of there? Money? Sex?” Doyun looked at you, judging, scrutinising.

“I escaped,” you stated. Two could play this game of lying to the other person’s face. “They’re probably still looking for me. That’s why I need to stay here.”

Doyun still hadn’t moved a muscle, disdain and distrust lining his harsh features. You both knew the other was lying, but none of you said a word. A tense silence settled between you until your mother walked back into the room, followed by the smell of herbal tea.

Your mother was more than happy to take you back in the house for a little while. Her nature of caretaker emerging after your so-called spontaneous trip, she almost insisted you’d stay at the mansion for a while. Thankfully, she still didn’t refrain from running her own errands, leaving the house in your capable hands. Like today.

With both your mother and Doyun out of the house, the building and some of its very interesting rooms were all yours to explore. Carefully avoiding the staff that were still working in the mansion, you were able to slip into Doyun’s office. As soon as you closed the door behind you, you took a look around the interior of the room. You shook your head at the supposed grandeur. The room was spacious, however cluttered with obnoxiously expensive-looking furniture.

When you made your way further into the room, the first thing that caught your eye was the portrait on the wall behind the desk. It showed a younger Doyun sitting on chair with, what you presumed, were his dad and grandfather standing behind him. The painting of the three stern-looking men was surrounded by a garish golden frame.

“Of course there’s an oil painting,” you sighed.

Shaking your head you made your way to the expensive-looking wooden desk. You let your fingers rest on the surface as you walked around it. The wood was stained with a dark varnish, the intricate grains visible through the shine. Most of the desk was empty, apart from a few bits and bobs and a small stack of paperwork. It would have been foolish to have left important papers laying around on his desk, but you still crossed your fingers and hoped for the best as you sat down and leafed through the pile.

As you browsed, you kept your ears strained. You were new to the world of sneaking around, however with your recent experiences in mind, you knew that you had to be on your guard. You weren’t about to find out what happened to people that snuck around in a mob boss’ office. You tried to shake off those thoughts while working a little faster.

Just like you expected, the papers on top of the desk were very normal and perfectly legal. You doubted JB would find the mansion’s electricity bills very useful. You let out a sigh and stood up with the intention of going over to the filing cabinet when you heard a cheerful whistle down the hall. Your heart rate spiked as you froze.

Shit. Move, ___, move!

You forced yourself to move and hide. You wormed your way in between the desk and its giant, coordinating leather chair. The sound of the footsteps grew louder, signalling the person’s proximity to the door. You held your breath, your heart in your throat, when the footsteps slowed in front of the door. Only when you heard the sound of shoes hitting the carpet again, moving away from you, you dared to breathe.

Okay, we’re done for today!, you thought. This is how far it’s gonna get!

You quickly emerged from below the desk before looking around and making sure to leave everything the way you found it. As a precautionary measure you waited a couple of minutes more, pressing your ear to the door for any more sounds. When the coast was clear you made your way back to your old bedroom as silently as possible.

You tried to make the trips down to Doyun’s office as short as possible, not willing to risk getting caught. Each time, you made sure to report the developments, or lack thereof, to Youngjae. Your findings left you disappointed and guilty as you were sure JB wasn’t very happy about it, but Youngjae reassured you that it didn’t matter, that you’d just have to be patient, insisting that your safety was the most important factor. As for the data, your assumptions proved to be right: your stepdad wasn’t a complete idiot. Important information wasn’t locked away in his drawers and binders, or carelessly strewn across the office. In this era, a laptop would provide to be a more suitable holder of secrets. However, that laptop was nowhere in sight, always being kept safe by its owner.

A few days later, after coming up with nothing, and JB insisting you should do something about it, you shot a quick prayer and snuck your way into Doyun’s quarters once again. Only this time there was something else on the desk than his usual frills. It was as if the gods had looked upon your desperate attempts to comb through meaningless papers and files, and had finally answered your prayers: Doyun had forgotten his laptop, leaving it right before your prying eyes.

Not wanting to throw away this opportunity, you made your way over to the desk as quickly as possible, ready to look into whatever the man was hiding on the device. It was only when you stumbled upon a login screen that you started to panic a little. Password protection. Of course.

You racked your brain, desperate to find the answer to the question presented in front of you. Think, ___, think.

You pressed in the five numbers most familiar to you, praying he was one of those people that used the same password for everything. Within a few seconds, instead of the feared ‘failed login’ screen, a wallpaper appeared. You couldn’t help but let out a surprised snicker. Yes! Knowing the password to the entrance gates never came in this handy.

Listening around for unexpected noises, you fumbled around for your phone. Browsing around the laptop aimlessly would only eat away at the little time you had. Some kind of lead might’ve been helpful at this moment.

“___?” Youngjae’s voice sounded through your phone’s speaker. “How are you doing? Everything alright?” The worry in his voice tugged at your heartstrings a little, making you smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” you whispered, before hurriedly continuing with the matter at hand. “I just need a little bit more info on what kind of info I’m supposed to be looking for. I just broke into Doyun’s laptop.”

“Oh,” he exclaimed, admittingly impressed. “Right.”

“I just need a little help navigating a crime boss’ laptop. I don’t really have a lot of experience in hiding this type of intel, you know. And I figured you might be able to help me.”

The male on the other end of the line spoke aloud, repeating what you’re asking to somebody else in the distance before letting out a hum. “Try to open up some of his work-related files. He might hide some important documents there.”

Moving your phone to your other ear, you used your free hand to browse through the different programmes on the laptop. A lot of the files seemed to be files you might harbour on your own computer. Except for that one file, obviously loaded with porn, everything seemed to be void of top secret documents. You didn’t want to know what kind of secrets were hidden away in there, though.

“I don’t know, Youngjae. It seems like everything checks out. No weird or suspicious files, or anything.”

Another hum. “Then try opening up his email. Information needs to be send to him somehow.”

You opened up his inbox, determined to find at least something of use. Your eyes skimmed over different email addresses and subjects until you finally stumbled across something promising. It was an email about a certain ‘transaction’. Your curiosity and desperation reaching a peak, you hurriedly read your way through the cryptic email.

“…tomorrow…”

“What?” Youngjae’s voice sounded in your ear, reminding you of the phone you’ve been pressing against your head the whole time.

“There’s something happening tomorrow,” you explained. “It’s an email from what seems like a business partner of some sorts. It says there’s going to be some kind of transaction or deal tomorrow night.”

“What? Where? Does it say anything about a location?”

You were about to answer Youngjae when a noise came from the other side of the door. You started to panic, quickly putting down your phone and logging off from the laptop. You needed to get out of here, now!

It wasn’t until you were walking down the hallway that you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. No one had seemed to see you exit the office, but of course you could never be too safe. You had hurried upstairs, quickly closing the door behind you to block yourself from anyone’s scrutiny.

This had to have gone okay, right? You didn’t see anyone on the way up here. This went well. Everything was gonna be fine.

You leaned against the door, putting your hand on top of your heart in an attempt to calm it down. Your breathing had gotten heavy. You felt like you’d been running a marathon. It took a few minutes to catch your breath again. But just as relief started to take over, a sound you were unable to place in your current state of mind caught you off guard. You jumped. Then you looked down at the source: the phone still clutched between your fingers.

Right. Youngjae!

Your shaking hands fumbled with the device, trying to get a proper hold on it to press the green icon and move it to your ear. “Yeah,” you breathed.

“___! Are you okay? What happened?” Youngjae once again sounded concerned.

“I’m fine,” you said. “I thought I heard something, so I ran.”

“Did someone see you? Did you get caught?” Again, unease showed through the words coming from the phone.

“No, I don’t think so. I do need to show you something, though. Can we meet up somewhere?”

An affirming answer came from the other end of the line. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit!”

You were about to hang up when Youngjae interrupted. “Oh, and ___?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

You shook your head, a small smile creeping up on you. It wasn’t the time to feel giddy at all, but you couldn’t help it. Youngjae’s worry and concern for you caused your heart flutter and a warm, pleasant feeling to spread all through your insides.

“I will,” you whispered.

Arriving at the address on your phone, you couldn’t help but doubt yourself. Was this the right place?

It seemed like Youngjae had send you to an old, run-down bar. It looked like it was closed, which was logical: it being 11 AM and all. Starting to wonder what to do next, your nervous pacing got interrupted by a familiar calling of your name. You turned around and came to face the exact man you had wanted to see ever since you escaped your stepdad’s office. It seemed like a while ago, even though it happened just this morning. But the solace you found in Youngjae’s eyes, filled you with relief and immediately lifted your spirits.

After asking if you were alright, Youngjae took you inside the hoary bar and led you to one of the tables in the back, away from any of the grimy windows. With JB and Jinyoung already seated on one end, you and Youngjae carefully sat down opposite them. Great, you thought. The two scariest gangsters decided to join you.

As if sensing your apprehension, Youngjae moved closer unconsciously. You were extremely grateful for his presence, feeling instantly protected and more at ease. Your gaze moved to the two men in front of you, both answering with a similar, cold glare. That was when the older of the two spoke up.

“I heard you found something.” His monotonous voice was accompanied by an expectant raise of the eyebrow.

“Erm, yeah,” you said. “I guess so.”

“Well… What did you find?” JB’s patience apparently already started to wear thin in the mere beginning of conversations.

“Right,” you started before fishing your phone out of your jacket’s pocket. You scrolled through your camera roll. “So, I found this email on his laptop,” you said, handing over your phone to the man opposite you. “It appears to be talking about some kind of shady deal.”

JB’s eyes moved across the screen quickly. He kept quiet, so you continued.

“It was the only clue I could find. I’m guessing he forgot to delete this email by accident, because the rest of his files didn’t say anything unusual. I got really lucky this time. He doesn’t normally seem this sloppy.”

“Hmm.” JB’s face took on a brooding expression. After a second, he handed the phone to Jinyoung, who made sure to send a copy of the pictures to his own phone.

“So?” you mused. “Did I manage to bring you something useful?”

One of the corners of JB’s lips tugged up, his cold face transforming into something a little bit more sinister. “I guess we can work with this.”

An unexpectant sense of gaiety started to grow among your insides and a smile made its way to your lips. You looked over to Youngjae with a strange sense of pride. You actually came up with something helpful. For a gang. Which wasn’t ideal. But it all felt kind of… exciting.

It was the day after your top secret meeting when you found yourself lounging around in the living room. It was the first day that you hadn’t been sneaking around in the house, and it felt… boring. The snooping had almost caused several heart attacks, but with nothing much else to do, besides going to class some days, you kind of missed it.

Before you left yesterday, JB had informed you he didn’t have much use for you right now. It was their turn now and you had to stand back. Lying on the couch, you couldn’t help but wonder what was supposed to go down, what they were involved in. Were the gang going to interfere with some type of arms deal? Or were they involved in drugs too? It was almost certainly going to be dangerous, you thought.

You found yourself praying that, whatever the gang had planned that day, they would come out unscathed.

It was already late at night when you finally heard something. But instead of the phone you had expected to ring, you heard the front door slam shut with a loud bang, picture frames on the walls threatening to fall down due to the vibrations it created. The crash was followed by loud curses coming from downstairs.

A knowing smile crept up your face. Someone had a bad day today, you thought. You had to hold back the urge to rush downstairs to find out what exactly happened, the smart part of your brain telling you it was better to stay away from Doyun for a while.

As if your curiosity sparked interest across the city, your phone signalled an incoming message. It was Youngjae.

‘Took care of everything. Are you okay?’

You let out a relieved breath, smiling at the man’s concern once again before quickly sending a message back.

‘Yes, I’m fine. Doyun less so. Did everything go okay?’

Youngjae’s answer came quickly. ‘We’re okay. Everything went as planned. His business should be held back for a little while.’ Followed by another. ‘You should lay low for now. Take care of yourself. We’ll talk soon!’

You replied with a quick ‘thumbs-up’ before carefully deleting the messages. If Doyun found out you were a mole, you’d be in major trouble.

It had been about a full week of normalcy before you received a message from Youngjae again. Taking into consideration that Doyun was on high alert, he didn’t dare keep in contact, afraid to raise suspicion. You were glad he was so thoughtful of you, but you were kind of disgruntled that you weren’t called upon earlier. You were bored and you found yourself missing the action a little. But especially not hearing from Youngjae had caused the disappointment to sink in. So when that text finally came, you couldn’t be more cheerful.

The message carried you to a local café, where Youngjae, JB and a young man that you had seen once before – Yugyeom, you remembered his name was – were waiting for you. Youngjae was the first one to speak to you when you arrived.

“___! How are you? Is everything okay?” His eyes darted up and down, quickly trying to scan your body for any injuries like it was his job – which it was, you reminded yourself.

You smiled, nodded and took a seat, ready for whatever happened next. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

JB let out an amused scoff at your forward nature before folding his hands on top of the table. “Well,” he started. “We need you to gather some more information on your stepdad.”

You nodded, signalling your understanding and willingness, much to Youngjae’s dismay.

“We’re planning on messing with him for a little while longer before we’re able to bring him down completely. After that, you’ll be free from your debt to me.”

It didn’t take you much longer than two seconds to agree. This was what you signed up for, right? Getting revenge. But also because you didn’t really have a choice with your freedom in JB’s hands.

You noticed Youngjae growing more and more wary. One look at him and his worries came spilling out. “Just be careful, ___. Doyun’s already on edge and most certainly suspicious of every tiny thing. If you even have one inch of doubt that he’s onto you-”

“I know, Youngjae,” you smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be on my guard. I’ll message you when I find anything.”

And that was that. Your next assignment.

Eager to prove your worth and help the only people able to bring your worst nightmare down, you started right away. The next couple of days you found nothing. Of course, Doyun had always been careful. Your first search was proof of that. You just prayed that all of the paranoia and stress would cause him to become sloppy. Just one mistake was all it took for you to take advantage of and have his entire business come crumbling down. It was only a matter of time.

Your prayers got answered about five days later, when a ‘business partner’ visited the house. Afraid that someone at headquarters might have something to do with the recent incident, Doyun had invited this particular partner to his home. That was your moment to strike. You had thought of a way listen in on their conversation, but it proved to be quite tricky. There was no way you could personally attend the meeting without being caught spying. That’s why you had to find another way to eavesdrop on the exchange.

Which led you to your mission of retrieving the phone you had hidden away in the pot of an ornamental plant before the two gentlemen made their way to Doyun’s office and started their all-important meeting. Your nerves had been building up consistently when you were waiting for the meeting to end. You were praying your not-particularly well-hidden phone wasn’t discovered. After making sure there was no one in sight, you made your way down to Doyun’s empty office to fetch your recording device.

Your proof turned out to be shockingly useful, prompting you to immediately report to the men on the other side of town. Doyun’s conversation was mostly filled with all kinds of details surrounding this deal that was currently being finalised. The who, when and where were all spoken about in great specifics. You just hit the jackpot, however, it was now the gang’s turn to run with it and put another one of their plans in action.

The week was just starting when Doyun, once again, came home with a dreadful temper. He was furious. Within a month, two of his deals fell through. The first one, an arms deal had been cancelled right before it was supposed to take place. Apparently the opposite party had made a more favourable deal with a different seller a couple hours prior and didn’t feel the need to show up. He had been infuriated. How dare they back off at the last minute? How dare they cross him, one of the most influential people in this city?!

And then that second disaster from which he had barely escaped alive. For some reason, again, the other party had crossed him, only this time it had turned fatal for many of his closest men. Turning up at the meeting place, everything seemed to be going as planned. A few seconds in, Doyun thought he saw some new faces among his interlocutor’s men. He had brushed it off as paranoia, but he was wrong to do so, as he found out a few minutes later when his soon-to-be partner started to twitch a little too much for his liking.

When Doyun and his men started to withdraw, his business partner knew the cover was blown. His men had opened fire and whoever had failed to react quickly, had been shot. It had been a deal about an alliance, and most of it was already set. He invited this man to his house and talked details. But now the people he had given an ounce of trust had turned on him. A few of Doyun’s best men perished, which is what angered him the most. A big part of his business endeavours had fallen through or had been delayed as a result of this and, most importantly, his credibility had taken a huge hit. The first signs of power struggles and revolts had started to pop up among his men: the first cracks within the empire that his father and grandfather had worked so hard to build started to appear.

In between university classes and meetings with the gang, you hadn’t stopped snooping around, determined to find other details of Doyun’s operations. In his current state of mind he had grown a bit careless, making it easier for you to find out new things that might be of importance to your cause. Each time you reported your findings to members of the gang so they could mess with and torment Doyun in any way, shape or form. You usually met up at a coffeeshop in the middle of the city. The less questionable your behaviour, the safer you were from Doyun’s suspicions.

JB didn’t feel the need to be present during most of your frequent meetings, trusting his brothers to hold up to the task of the messenger. However, there was one person who was always there. Youngjae had apparently taken it upon himself to be your first person of contact. While you didn’t know exactly why – he was the medic and wasn’t particularly involved in the other, more illegal matters of the crime ring – you were glad he was there. He had always been there, you realised once, the thought making you feel all strange and warm on the inside.

That warmth had changed into a jittery feeling when Youngjae was the person to reach out first, asking you to meet up later that week. You had told yourself that it was probably business-related, but you couldn’t help but feel excited. It was a little nerve-wracking to be honest. You had told yourself to calm down, and that you had experienced more horrifying things these last few weeks. For God’s sake, you had met with one of the most intense mob bosses of the city while living under the same roof with another. You could handle being alone with Youngjae.

With those encouraging thoughts, you left the house without a second look back. Which was a mistake as, unbeknownst to you, a pair of very expectant eyes were following your every move.

Doyun knew that his recent losses weren’t just any case of bad luck. There must have been something more to it than that. His troubles were just too much of a coincidence. It didn’t take him long to pinpoint exactly where his tribulations stemmed from. He had a strong feeling he knew exactly who was the cause of his problems.

JB’s gang hadn’t been his direct enemy until recently. The gang was young, but had experienced a significant growth in territory, numbers and influence early on. The man at the head of this group had to have guts in order to accomplish all of this, that was nothing new. But spying on him like this, was an especially fearless move. Doyun could only think of one particular person that had been in contact with these rivals. However, he needed to make sure his suspicions were right. And it was very likely that these suspicions were going to be confirmed later that day.

Youngjae had always thought of himself as a calm and patient person. In his medical profession, it was a crucial part of his job description. He had been fidgeting for quite a while this morning, however. Time had seemed to crawl by lately, especially when he was anticipating to meet you. It had been a few days since you last saw each other. He had texted you then, asking if you wanted to have coffee with him. It took some courage to send that message, unsure if you fully understood what he meant by it, but thankfully you didn’t look at all surprised to find him alone.

You two spoke about current business, however briefly, but the conversation quickly shifted to more mundane topics. He noticed your muscles relax as the conversation went on and you smiled more than ever in his presence. He found himself wishing to be able to see more of this version of you in the future. Youngjae wasn’t able to stop thinking about it, about you, ever since, so he had made an effort to speak to you again as soon as possible afterwards.

And that was what led him to this very coffee shop for the second time this week, anxiously waiting for you to continue where you two left off last time. It was only that he had been waiting, anxiously, for a quite some time by now. A quick glance at the clock let Youngjae know that it had been at least half an hour of waiting on his part. He found out you were prone to showing up late sometimes, but never had it been more than ten minutes. Moreover, your delay had always been accompanied by a short message of apology as well. This time something wasn’t quite right.

After another ten minutes, and a lack of any notification of any kind, Youngjae was sure that something was really off. That was when he decided to try to call you, but got no further than unlocking his phone when Jaebum’s name popped up on his screen.

“It’s me,” the familiar voice sounded when Youngjae picked up. The words were blunt, feeding the nagging feeling in his stomach. “We’ve got a situation on our hands,” JB continued before uttering the words that caused Youngjae’s stomach to drop instantly. “Doyun knows.”

In order to explain the situation properly, JB had requested Youngjae to come over as quickly as possible. The latter didn’t need much of an explanation. He had had this strange gut feeling for a while. He knew you were in serious trouble, he just needed to know in how much.

Panic-stricken and restless, Youngjae rushed over to headquarters to find the core gang members gathered around a table. Mark noticed him first, waving him over in silence. The atmosphere was nothing short of tense and all the focus was on JB who seems to be in a heated discussion over the phone.

When Youngjae’s eyes fell on the picture displayed on a phone a distressed Jackson held out to him, his jaw dropped unintentionally. It was a close up of your bruised face. Your cheek was swollen, a scratch of red marking the hit from a ring. Your right eye inflamed and puffy, traces of a bruise already forming along your temple. Some stray hairs were sticking to the patch of dried blood near a cut on your eyebrow.

Youngjae’s breath got caught in his throat, a wave of guilt washing over him. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You had been so careful. This was his fault. The gang had pushed you into cooperating and he stood by and condoned it. It physically hurt him to see you like this. Frustrated with himself and the situation he curled his hands into fists, drawing blood as his nails pressed into the soft skin. His blood was boiling, his heart breaking. How dare they lay their hands on you!

You were more or less innocent, not involved in any of this gang business if it wasn’t for them. He hadn’t agreed on involving innocent people from the very beginning, but had reluctantly let the gang do its thing. And now this happened…

“What exactly do you want to achieve with this, asshole?!” JB’s voice brought Youngjae’s attention back to his conversation. “What do you expect to gain from this?”

Having it switched to speaker, the voice on the phone echoed in the room. “What I want is for your lousy business to stop interfering with that of mine,” Doyun’s voice answered. “Back off, or she dies.”

It was silent for a minute as everyone watched Jaebum with concern. Youngjae tensed. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were so careful and still this was able to happen. What if he didn’t ask you to meet up with him? Would your intentions still be a secret? Or was this inevitable? Just an attempt to try and fool a man that turned out to be smarter than they thought?

“Do you really think that this is how you’re going to get us? Are you really willing to kill your own step-daughter for this?” JB said out loud, putting to words exactly how unbelievable Doyun’s intentions were.

“Why not?” Doyun mused. “She’s been nothing but a nuisance to me. My life would be a whole lot easier with her out of the picture.” A cackle reverberated through the phone. “Your choice,” he said before the call got disconnected.

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds, Doyun’s words weighing it down heavily. The first one to break the silence was Jinyoung. “We’re not going to back off, are we?” he said, looking calmer than the rest of the men.

“How could we?” Yugyeom said. “We’ve gotten too far in for us to back out now.”

“But what about ___?! We need to get her out of there!” Youngjae sputtered, the muscles in his jaw tensed. He had already let it come this far. You got hurt. He needed to save you. “He’ll kill her!”

JB paused thoughtfully before clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out, Youngjae. Like we always do.”

It took the rest of the day for the gang to calm down and think of a solution, which turned out to be harder than it seemed. All of the men unanimously agreed that they had to get you out of this situation before anything else, Youngjae being the most vocal about it, but that was going to be difficult without knowing where you were in the first place.

The men reached a dead end a couple of hours in. Without any location, a rescue operation was going to be practically impossible. Halting their operations in relation to Doyun’s business seemed like the only possible way to keep you alive, but their business would suffer and, after seeing the images of your assaulted body, they couldn’t promise Doyun’s men would keep their hands off you even if they did.

Discussions and interjections went on for about an hour when Youngjae’s phone signalled an unexpected message. The text consisted of a location and not much else. Tracking the message resulted in a direct connection with a burner phone that wouldn’t lead to any specific person, but the location directed them to a building at the edge of the city.

“Could it be that this is where ___ is held?” Bambam suggested while the rest seemed puzzled about where this message came from.

“Plausible,” JB said with a nod. “Who’s the owner of that building?”

After a few quick taps on his laptop, Mark confirmed everyone’s hopes. “Doyun.”

“Then what the hell are we waiting for?!” Youngjae, who’d been pent up with frustration since the moment he stepped foot in the meeting, snapped uncharacteristically. “We have to get her out of there!”

As a voice of reason, Jinyoung interrupted. “What if it’s a trap? Doyun could have just as easily texted us himself just because he wants us to go there.”

A silence fell, the thought floating around in everyone’s minds before Jackson spoke up. “If this is our only lead, I think we should risk it.”

All faces turned to JB expectantly. “Please, Jaebum,” Youngjae pleaded. “We owe her that much.”

After a second the boss hummed. “But we need to approach this carefully. First, we need a plan.”

And so the preparations of a rescue operation ensued. In the dead of night, the gang made its way to the location provided in the text. In the old van of some electrical company, Mark sat in the back, pressing some keys on his laptop, trying to hack into the security camera’s of the premises they were now quickly approaching.

“Mark, you keep monitoring the cameras. Yugyeom, you stay here and be ready for when we need to escape,” JB ordered as the youngest member slowed down the beat-up van a block away from the complex. “Youngjae, you too.”

The young doctor was quick to object. “No. I’m coming.”

“Youngjae, it’s Doyun’s men we’re talking about.” JB’s voice was cold and stern, common for the leader. “They’re trained hitmen.”

“I don’t care.” His voice was resolute. “We need to get ___ out of there as soon as possible, and with an extra hand the sooner we can do that. Besides, I can handle myself,” Youngjae said as he reached for one of the guns in the back.

JB looked at him discerningly. The fire and determination in Youngjae’s eyes told him he wouldn’t budge on this matter. Not feeling like continuing this discussion, JB just sighed.

“Okay, guys. ___ is our priority, but we shouldn’t forget that this could be a trap. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything we’ve overlooked. If anyone only gets the slight feeling that we might be ambushed, speak up and we’re out of there.” He looked at each of the men around him, who gave him an affirmative nod. He continued, his gaze aimed at Bambam. “Keep an eye on Youngjae. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

The young man nodded.

“All right, boys. Let’s do this.”

The side door slid open, the men filing out while concealing some of their weapons within their clothes before sneaking onto the premises of the skeleton of an old office building. The grounds around weren’t completely empty. Some of Doyun’s men were loitering around unsuspectingly, smoking cigarettes and rubbing their hands against the cool night air, gazing at nothing in particular. They were unusually out of place guarding a building that was already part demolished. But as well as for a planned ambush. A good sign, JB noted before signalling the rest of the guys to move forward at Mark’s cue sounding in his earpiece.

The first man that got close to where Jackson and Jinyoung were hiding got a baseball bat to the face, the crack echoing between the buildings. A friend of his that got a little suspicious from the grunt was grabbed from behind, an arm moving around his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs. Bambam, an experienced sharpshooter, was the one to subdue the next two, the sound of his shots mere pops in the distance thanks to his silencer.

It stayed quiet for the next few minutes, the grounds minimally guarded. The gang made it to the next obstacle: a back entrance with a heavy lock. Jackson stepped forward to inspect it.

“This is not going to be an easy lock to get rid of silently,” he diagnosed.

“Shoot it,” Youngjae called out impatiently. “We still have the element of surprise. We need to get in now!”

All gazes moved toward JB for the final decision. The latter seemed to think it over for a second. Youngjae found himself getting heated up a little too much for his liking, but he was right. Nothing led them to think there was an ambush waiting for them there. In the end JB nodded at Jinyoung who looked ready to deliver the shot.

A loud pop broke the silence, followed by a clank of the lock being blasted apart by a bullet. Jackson swung open the door before a full on gunfight ensued, guards inside the building surprised at the intruders. The boys advanced into the building, weapons raised, shooting down any person in their way. It was chaos. Above the gunfire, Youngjae’s voice rung out.

“Find her!”

The group of men split into three, each moving into a different direction. As per JB’s warning, and his own gut feeling, Bambam didn’t dare let Youngjae out of his sight. He had never seen the doctor act like this. Trained in observing other people’s body language through a visor, he knew Youngjae was acting out of the ordinary. Out of all the people in the gang, he was supposed to be the most collected and practical in stressful situations. Heightened emotions didn’t belong in his line of work.

His white-knuckled fingers and the throbbing vein along one of his temples told Bambam a lot. He was trying to hold back whatever worry he was feeling, but his rushed steps and the slight tremor in his hands gave away enough for his partner to guess what he was going through.

“Hey!”

A shout from the other end of the hallway they barely entered echoed against the walls, pulling Bambam’s focus from the other male. He rushed forward, both hands on his weapon. Even before this threatening sight, his target, a thin man, still reached for his gun. But it was too late when a single shot got fired and hit him right in his chest.

Youngjae didn’t even flinch at his friends actions, his focus elsewhere. “Let’s go,” he said before stepping over the body on the floor and continuing his path. “This way.”

It took another minute before the men noticed two nervous-looking henchmen pacing around in one of the hallways. Bambam held out an arm, holding Youngjae back.

“I’ve seen them before,” Bambam whispered. “And they’re not moving in to help the rest.” He almost sounded a little disappointed.

“That means that she’s here,” Youngjae replied. “They’re guarding her.”

Bambam nodded and advanced. The men in the hallway noticed them immediately, ready to grab their guns. One of them was successful. The other not so much. Rushing in on the last man standing, Youngjae was able to hit him square in the face. Killing was only necessary as a last resort, he thought. He hissed at the crack of his knuckles when connecting with the puffy man’s face. Waving his hand around, trying to shake off the pain, he got caught off guard by a punch in the stomach. Air escaped as he groaned and doubled over, but the adrenaline kept him going. He charged forward, tackling the man to the ground where he punched him again. The man tried to throw Youngjae off, grabbing at his opponent’s face. He was able to push him of balance and land a hit on his cheek, but his victory didn’t last. Another shot rang out and Youngjae looked up to find Bambam, totally forgotten at this point, his weapon raised.

More shouts and gunshots reverberated all around the empty building, but Youngjae didn’t notice any of that. All that was on his mind was finding you. He knew you were near. All he needed to do was find you and bring you to safety. He ignored Bambam’s outstretched hand completely when getting back to his feet and rushed forward once again, only one goal in mind. The other man quickly followed him.

When they arrived at a locked door, Youngjae was the first to barge into it, slamming into it with his shoulder and kicking at it with his boot. When it didn’t budge he yelled out in frustration. Bambam, having enough of this wild display, held him back before raising his gun to shoot at the lock. That did the trick.

Youngjae didn’t feel the need to feel bad about his impulsive behaviour. He swung open the door to finally reveal the person he longed to see.

Your unconscious figure lay on the concrete floor, bruised and broken. Youngjae didn’t waste a second and appeared at your side immediately. For just a second, he tried to push aside his feelings and treat you like any other patient, but his rushed movements betrayed his sentiments. Your pulse was still there, you were breathing – however shallowly. Your face looked pale and you were burning up.

“Have you found her?” Jinyoung’s voice called out from the hallway, his footsteps quickly approaching. The gunfire had died down a little, something Youngjae didn’t even notice. His entire attention was focused on you.

“Yeah,” Bambam answered in his stead. “Everything alright on your end?”

Jinyoung nodded, trying to catch his breath while supporting his hand on Bambam’s shoulder. “JB and Jackson are still holding off some of them. Are we ready to go?” His eyes moved towards Youngjae, who was now approaching them, carrying your comatose figure in his arms. “Is she…?”

“We need to go,” Bambam said firmly, nodding in the direction of the scuffing of approaching footsteps on the cement floors.

Jinyoung looked over at Youngjae again. He looked like he was about to explode. “Get her out of here,” he said, surprising the other two, carrying your figure over into Bambam’s arms.

“What?” Jinyoung blinked, pulling Youngjae back. “What are you doing?”

A cold fire was burning in his eyes. It was more than anger. Worse. It was an intense type of hurt, one that was mixed with outrage. An explosive combination. “I’m gonna kill that bastard!”

“Youngjae, don’t do something you’ll regret later on!” Jinyoung yelled back, putting his hands on his shoulders to steady him. “Take her out of here and make sure she’s okay. She’s your priority!”

Jinyoung had never been much of a kind-hearted person. Blunt and straight to the point, even a bit hurtful. That was who he was. But despite that, he always seemed to know what people needed to hear, even though it wasn’t what they wanted to hear.

Youngjae paused, hesitant to let go of his internal rage. He looked at Bambam, who still looked quite lost at Youngjae’s behaviour and was awkwardly holding your beaten up figure in his arms.

“Youngjae,” Jinyoung tried again, looking at the figure in his friend’s arms. “She needs help. A doctor. Youngjae, she needs you.” Those words seemed to drag Youngjae back to earth. “Go. I’ll take care of things here.”

He kept silent, but gave a slight nod before hurrying past Jinyoung and following Bambam out of the building.

Opening your eyes turned into a struggle the last few hours, and now was no different. You didn’t want to open your eyes, afraid of what was waiting for you at the other side of your eyelids. It had always been a man, gruff-looking and quickly-angered, ready to hurt you in some way or another. The first time the means of torture were simply the knuckles of his giant hands, but the second time he stood there, a smug look on his face and a bucket of ice water hanging on the phalanxes of his fingers.

However, something was different this time. Familiar voices, vague and unintelligible, floated in the space around you. A flutter of your eyelids had drawn the attention of a particular familiar voice back to you.

“___?”

Youngjae.

You tried to open your eyes with much difficulty. With your vision blurry and your head pounding, you were just able to make out the face of the person you longed to see. “Youngjae,” you croaked, your throat dry.

“It’s okay,” he said, the palm of his hand falling to your forehead. You welcomed the coolness of his fingers, your eyelids fluttering closed at the soothing sensation and the rocking of the van. “I’m here. Everything will be alright.”

That was the last thing you heard before everything turned black, a fitful sleep waiting for you on the other side.

Your surroundings had significantly changed when you opened your eyes next. You were met with a white ceiling and a feeling of comforting warmth. When your gaze landed on a mop of familiar brown hair, your heart jumped. Seeing Youngjae’s blurry face hours ago had seemed like a wonderful dream amidst the frequent nightmares, but seeing his sleeping figure, slumped over onto the side of the bed proved that it wasn’t.

You propped yourself up against the headboard with effort, a tentative hand reaching out to touch Youngjae’s face. His cheek pressed into the sheets, his lips were forming a pout. It made him look younger. It looked like he spend most of his time beside you, exhausted to the point of passing out on the chair next to the bed. He had always been there, you realised once again. Even when you didn’t realise, he was there.

The sound of the door opening broke your gaze from the sleeping figure beside you. Yugyeom stepped into the room. His hands occupied with carrying a tray, he pressed the door closed behind him with one of his feet.

“Hey,” he whispered. “You’re awake!”

“Sssh!” You pointed at Youngjae, who was still asleep beside you.

Yugyeom approached the bed silently, putting his tray down on the bedside table. “I thought I’d bring him some food,” he nodded toward man in question. “He’s been cooped up inside this room the entire time.”

“How long have I been out for?” you wondered.

“Almost two days,” Yugyeom said. “You had a fever. But I’m guessing you’re feeling better?” You nodded, your gaze back on the person who was probably responsible for it. “Well, I’ll let you rest some more. Youngjae will kill me if I won’t.” He walked back to the door. “And make sure he eats something when he wakes up. Wouldn’t want our doc to get sick.”

After Yugyeom left, you took another good look at Youngjae’s cherub cheeks. He looked so soft and peaceful that you cursed yourself for doing the thing you did next. You ran a hand through his soft brown locks, your fingernails lightly scraping over his scalp. He breathed out a lazy sigh.

“You know,” you started. “As a doctor I figured you should know this position is terrible for your spine.”

Your soft voice coaxed him out of his sleep. A soft moan escaped from his lips, the sound surprisingly adorable in your ears. He blinked, not entirely sure of where he was and what was happening as he shook off the veil of slumber. It took him a few seconds to realise what woke him, but as soon as he did, he shot up.

“___!” he exclaimed, grabbing your hand. “You’re awake!”

You couldn’t help but smile, even though the action caused you to wince as pain blossomed across your cheek.

“How are you feeling?” He looked at you once again with a worried look in his eyes. It had become his default look for you, you found yourself thinking. You should really change that.

You smiled weakly, trying to hold your own, mostly for his sake. “Haven’t felt better.”

“I’m so sorry, ___,” Youngjae said, guilt swimming in his beautiful brown eyes. “This is all my fault. I should’ve-”

“Youngjae. Stop.” You lay your hand across his cheek. “I participated in all this. You couldn’t have prevented any of it.”

“No, ___. You don’t get it,” he said, his eyes glazed over. “You had a fever! If I hadn’t gotten to you in time… You could have died!” He swallowed thickly. “I thought you were dead when I found you. I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself if you…”

He trailed off, staring at the way his hand enveloped yours before placing a kiss on top of your bruised fingers. You didn’t say anything after that. He looked heartbroken. Realising no words could soothe him, you waned in silence, comforting him with your presence and gentle rubs of your fingertips over his knuckles. You both stayed like that for a little while, before Youngjae had to switch to his physician persona.

After having gone through your check-up extensively, you both found yourselves still exhausted, but also hungry. Yugyeom had passed by again in the meantime, another meal spread out on a tray. This time it was meant for you. With both of your stomachs filled with Yugyeom’s hearty meals, weariness hit hard. While Youngjae was reluctant to leave your side, you worried over his posture after sleeping on a chair. You padded the mattress next to you, inviting him to lay down next to you. He protested at first, but you were steadfast – and, above all, selfish.

Both of you settled down quietly, your arms around each other as if to confirm you were together. You didn’t want to let him go and he didn’t want to let you out of his sight. As if calmed down by the other’s presence, your breaths slowed down soon after, both of you finding comfort in each other’s embrace.

You had no idea what happened behind the scenes when you first woke up. After your return to the manor you first considered a prison, you had done nothing but focussed on healing and on Youngjae. He had managed to calm down a bit after everything that happened. He was still reluctant to leave you alone, however. But you didn’t mind.

After the horrific events you went through, you felt like you had to hold onto him at all times, if not for your own sanity. He still felt guilty, the dispirited look in his eyes wrenched your heart. So you made it your job to drive out that feeling, reassuring him at each opportunity and gifting him a smile every time he looked at you. The rest of your efforts went into getting better. You needed to heal, for him, but for your own sake as well. You needed to put this behind you. The sooner you were able to return to your life, the better.

However, there were a few loose ends that still needed to be tended to. One of which presented itself when Yugyeom knocked on the door and asked for you to come downstairs. You hadn’t really spoken to the rest of the gang after the events of the last week, but Youngjae had briefed you about most of it. This time, however, Youngjae shrugged his shoulders in wonder as well.

After they saved you from Doyun’s men, the gang combed through the building in search of the man himself, but he was nowhere to be found. It turned out Doyun had fled the scene and was in hiding. JB was still fully immersed in the manhunt. However, without the mob boss’ presence, his business had crumbled. Some of the higherups that still managed to be alive, had tried to usurp the syndicate in the chaos, but all of them had failed to fully take the reins into their hands.

Another question remained, still. One that was almost forgotten. The answer to that question was sitting at the kitchen island when you arrived downstairs, Youngjae trailing behind you.

“Mom?”

“So, you’re the one who sent that message?” Youngjae said. “You knew where ___ was.”

Your mom nodded regretfully before moving her gaze from her cup of coffee to you. “When I found out you went missing, I knew he was behind it.” She smiled, remorseful, the traces of tears still visible on her cheeks. “I’m not as ignorant as Doyun thought I was. I knew about his business. I knew what he did for a living, but I kept silent. I only started to pay close attention when I figured out you had gotten yourself into his mess.

“You know, he kept things from me, like when you first disappeared. I did some digging and found the ransom notes. But by the time I found out you were missing that first time, you had already showed up again. I kept an eye on things after that, though.” She shook her head. “And when you got missing again, I couldn’t let him do as he pleased. I knew he was angry and I knew he was the one who had you. He became a ticking time bomb and I tried to find out your location as fast as possible.”

She paused.

“I knew I couldn’t save you on my own. So I messaged you.” Her eyes now moved along the members that had gathered in the kitchen. “Thank you, once again, for saving her.” Her eyes halted on Youngjae. “And thank you for taking care of her.”

Youngjae smiled and nodded humbly under her gaze before squeezing your hand in support.

“So, what’s next?” Jaebum asked.

Your mother shook her head. “I don’t know. How does one divorce a man who’s missing?” she chuckled dryly. “I’m looking for an apartment right now. I’m ready to cut all of my ties to that man.”

After another cup of coffee and second heart-warming hug, your mother was on her way once again. She had smiled at Youngjae knowingly before turning away and driving off in her car.

“What was that?” Youngjae said as he helped you back up the stairs.

“What?”

“You know… That weird smile of hers.”

You shrugged. “I guess she’s figured us out.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, us.” You smiled at him as you reached to top of the stairs. “I think she noticed the way I look at you. She could always tell what I thought by looking at me for one second. My face is way too telling.”

Youngjae pulled you along the landing further, before manoeuvring you to the wall. You wrapped your arms around his neck and moved in closer. Your breath fanned on his lips as he spoke. “And how do you look at me exactly?”

You let out a hum. “I don’t know. Like you look at me right now.”

He smiled. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like you want to kiss me.” You moved a hand to his chest. “I won’t stop you if you decide to do so,” you whispered.

Youngjae hesitated, like every time when you moved too close to him. He had wanted to kiss you so bad ever since you woke up, but he didn’t want to hurt you. Traces of bruises still marked your skin, a reminder of the trauma you lived through so recently. But the breath on his lips pushed back the reason within him, his feelings taking the lead in his actions. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he caught your hand in his and moved his face forward, your lips meeting in an unyielding kiss.

His lips were soft and his touch gentle, careful not to hurt you while you were still on the mend. He tasted like coffee and vanilla, a safe and familiar combination perfectly captured in an intense kiss. This was what home felt like, you thought. I’m home.  

[glitterandrocketfuel]

YBC Hot Takes: Alone Together

Part 3 in this month’s Peterick Institute for Flexible Metallurgical Haberdashery is under way! Today’s discussion takes on Part 4 of the Youngblood Chronicles, viewed through the lens of Patrick’s solo career during the hiatus.

Alone Together - Alone in the Dark. Without You, I’m Just Me.

The vixens hand off the briefcase to the mystery woman in the RATATAT limo, passing Patrick's solo career into the hands of the music industry. Patrick's solo career makes its way out into the world, and into the hands of people who are ready to see this strange musical dreamer from a band that never quite fit into expectations or did the right thing be taken down a peg, made to fit in someplace where he can be marketed and controlled and served up at the pleasure of the forces that profit from creativity rather than create it. 

In hiatus terms, each of the boys is going through their own personal hellscape. Joe's sense of humor (though underrepresented in media interviews, Joe's always had a killer sense of humor) deserted him in the darker times of hiatus-ville. Plus, humor comes from pain. Andy's forced to hear corporate-pablum music and face TeeVee with someone who looks like the quintessential PR person "image consultant." Basically the worst version of "suddenly I have nothing to do all day but watch TV" ever.

And Pete, well, we all know Pete's relationship with the paparazzi is one that is complex and painful. He knows exactly how to mug for the cameras and use it to his advantage, but damned if he doesn't bleed for it, and does it ever change him. Fame changes you and Celebrity can turn you into a weapon towards its own ends as you're driven to do more and more outrageous things for the spotlight while having less and less control over your own image and narrative. And lest we forget, deep cuts can be made in 140 characters or less. Hiatus!Pete was known to make some thoughtless tweets regarding the band's status that cut them like, oh, a hook cuts through a vixen, and Patrick, without the shield of the Pete Wentz Celebrity Show, is about to experience the full thrust of social media and celebrity all alone (while Pete is in his own separate media hell).

But while each of these scenarios shows the boys grappling with their own individual nightmares, there's another level of interpretation: The other band members are all aspects of Patrick's solo career.

Andy represents Patrick's artistic integrity (much in the way Andy is the true north for the band). He's under attack by consumption and pretension, the "selling out" aspect that wants to package and make palatable and soften and distort and produce by committee (all the things that Patrick's grappled with in his controlling professional nature). The label doesn't quite know what to do with him, how to package him. They would love nothing more than to leverage his Fall Out Boy fame, but Patrick Stump, Soul Punk is not an outgrowth of that, it's a departure from it. But he's also a little (blonde, pale, white) guy in a suit and a bow tie who's aligning musically with hip-hop, soul, R&B, rap, and synth-pop that they just don't know how to sell.

Joe is Patrick's playfulness, his creative compass. After all, it is Patrick and Joe who were both kids when they started on the whole crazy ride. Joe put the band together and where Pete pushes Patrick to stretch his limits, Joe leads him in more subtle ways. Joe is under attack by fickle, fickle youth. The "kids" who catapulted Fall Out Boy into stardom are the same ones who tossed accusations about them selling out when they changed up their sound or started playing bigger venues.

Even as far back as IOH, Pete played with the concepts of aging out of "the scene" and the implications of their changing fame on their sound (nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy when you've gone platinum). And those same "kids" (the fact that they're little girls dressed up and made up like young vixens is another layer altogether, commenting on the changing music scene and how we're commercializing 'em younger and younger but I digress...) are the ones who are simultaneously embracing Patrick at shows and in tweets...and excoriating him the same way for not staying the same.

Pete is the Spotlight, shining harsh and violent on an alone-on-stage Patrick who doesn't have a band to hide behind or stand with him when he's a solo artist. The frontman antics and media scrutiny, the gauntlet of interviews Patrick has always been able to slide into Pete's inbox or avoid in favor of being one of two or three or four where he could count on Pete taking the lead all rest solely on Patrick's shoulders now. Not all these things are bad--Patrick on stage as frontman, doing his own thing and coming out from behind the shell of his awkward youth, is the stuff vixens dream about at night.

But while Patrick has learned to do it, he's not learned to master it the way Pete has--not had a baptism of fire, so to speak. He can perform being a performer, but he can't tame and direct and hack the attention the way Pete can. The celebrity rides him, not the other way around.

The sexual overtones of Pete being on display are significant here, both for Pete as Pete and for Pete-as-Patrick. Without Pete being the "heartthrob" of the band, all the sexualized attention is turned onto Patrick alone and if you're not born to it, it turns on you in a heartbeat.

Patrick, pushing his solo career, plays in the hallowed halls of venues every night, but whatever the realities are, his ears start to hear more and more of the critics. For the first time, he's doing this without a Pete Wentz Patented Safety Net.

He's slimmed down, glammed up, dressed up, sexed up in the spotlight, his music unrestrained by a pre-defined "sound" of Fall Out Boy that he must remain faithful to. But without the Pete-Buffer he stands alone and all his ears can hear are the critics. The tapes are on loop, playing "we liked you better fat," and "go back to Fall Out Boy."

Pete racing through the halls, pursued with murderous intent by the vixens who so recently wanted sexytimes, is Patrick flailing between the broom closet of his past with Fall Out Boy and punk, and his present as an outsider in hip-hop (y halo thar, Big Sean). The halls are a maze, and Patrick's front-facing persona is only reunited with himself after the critical voices have laid their poison.

Cruel reviews, selfish reactions from fans who don't want him to change or strike out on his own. Sinister whispers designed to break him down and manipulate him back into staying in the lane that the media and the public have already assigned to him--either go back to Fall Out Boy or stay in the same musical lane.

Or the really scary option of having to be a nostalgia/reunion band that does nothing but replay its old glories over and over again or desperately attempts to try and re-create the same thing again and again. Missing the mark each time because the magic never stays the same. Tap-dancing harder and faster for half the thrill each time and never be able to move forward or move on.

In the end, though, Pete finds Patrick in the befouled sacred space of music and does his best to patch him back together by providing the hook. But it's not a hand, it's not the vital connection to the band that makes him whole, it's a weapon. A crude one, only good for lashing out and hurting, and already test-driven by Pete himself.

Pete, who has done this before--had his guts opened up and his innards dissected by the media and gossip mills which thrive on consuming intimate, personal experiences and regurgitating them in carnival fun-house distortion back into the public eye--and conquered it in his own way as best as he could.

Patrick's public-facing self reunites with him, but the damage has been done both internally in the music space and externally, leaving him broken and un-whole. Instead of the talented hand and crafty fingers, he's got a clumsy weapon, good only for destroying what came before.