#i actually wanted to end it a few hundred words earlier and then do this last bit as a separate scene in chapter nine

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Too Easy

Request: Anonymous asked: "okay i have a tyler owens request!! him and reader are both tornado wranglers and they’ve always had a somewhat flirty relationship, but at one point they’re out chasing and the motel they stay at that night doesn’t have enough rooms for all of them so Tyler and the reader decide to share and reader has a nightmare? or just some kind of angst or hurt/comfort with a happy ending? love ur work!"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: PTSD, trauma, tornado mention

A/N: I changed it from flirty to an enemies to lovers-type relationship, just because i've been craving to write that type of banter. as always, comments & replies are super appreciated!!! thanks for reading :)

As soon as you saw the familiar red Dodge truck parked outside the motel you groaned. 

“Is this guy everywhere, all the time?” Halle, one of your crew members, mumbled from the driver’s seat. She pulled your SUV into the only empty spot in the parking lot. 

She was referencing Tyler– another local storm chaser and absolute pain in your ass. His Ram truck was like a symbol all around Oklahoma. Everyone in the midwest knew his name– and what he did. You, on the other hand, knew him as a self-absorbed jerk that constantly put his and his team’s lives in danger for a few hundred thousand views on YouTube. He was cocky and obnoxious and arrogant. And you couldn’t stand him. 

Unfortunately for you though, Tyler Owens and his entire team went where the storms went. Which meant that you were stuck dealing with him– especially during tornado season. 

“Let’s just get a room, maybe we missed him,” you mumbled before turning to the backseat. “Anna, could you pass me my bag?” 

“Sure thing,” she replied, grunting as she handed your duffel over. 

“How about two rooms tonight?” you suggested. “I feel like I haven’t actually slept since we were in Austin.”

“God, I’ve been waiting for you to suggest that,” Halle mumbled. The bags around her eyes suggested she was just as eager for a good night’s sleep as you were. 

Together, the three of you dragged yourselves towards the motel lobby, exhausted and desperate for both a shower and a bed. 

“Why don’t you guys wait with all the gear? I’ll go in and book the rooms,” you offered. 

“Two of them,” Halle said with a relieved smile. 

“Two rooms coming up,” you promised. 

They nodded in agreement and settled in on the curb while you wandered inside. The bell above the door rang loudly as you stepped inside. As soon as you did, you realized that, to your absolute dismay, a familiar someone had already beat you to the front desk. You’d recognize those stupid, broad shoulders any day, even if you were sleep deprived.  

“Evenin’ m’lady,” Tyler’s little sidekick said teasingly. He tipped his baseball cap towards you.   

“Hey Boone,” you greeted back curtly.   

“What’d ya think of that beaut earlier, huh? Not too often we get two storm cells like that.”

“Yeah it was somethin’,” you replied absentmindedly. Honestly, you didn’t dislike Boone. He was friendly– maybe a little overzealous for your liking, but overall a nice guy. It was a shame he was always around Tyler– otherwise you might not always be so annoyed with him, too.  

“There she is,” Tyler beamed. He approached you and Boone while he tucked a few room keys in his wallet. “Were you fillin’ Boone in on why you picked the wrong storm to chase today? Because that’s a story I want to hear–” 

Your gaze fell to the floor, chest tightening the same way it did in the field earlier. “The winds changed last minute– I didn’t catch it,” you muttered, although you shouldn’t even have to explain yourself to this hillbilly. 

“Ah, I see. Man, you’re off your game, sweetheart. Usually it’s me missin’ those signs. What do you got cloudin’ up that pretty little mind of yours?” 

Anger began seeping into the corners of your mind. “Why do you even care?” you asked icily. “Thought you’d be happy to have that storm all to yourself.”

“Oh, I was sweetheart,” Tyler winked. “But I don’t mind sharin’ with you.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him towards the front desk. A younger girl with short, red hair offered you a smile. “How can I help you?”

“I need two rooms please,” you requested, it took about all the energy you had left to smile back. 

The girl sucked in a breath of air. “Oh, I’m so sorry– this gentleman here just rented three rooms. All we have left is one.”

“One?” you asked in disbelief, mouth falling open. 

She nodded. “There’s two beds, though, if that helps.”

“Shit,” you grumbled. Your team was exhausted– and you knew that you couldn’t just take back your promise for them to have their own beds. 

“I’m sorry–” the girl repeated, but you shook your head. 

“No, it’s okay. Not your fault,” you said quickly, trying to remember your manners.. 

“Somethin’ wrong over there sweetheart?” Tyler asked teasingly.  

“Yeah, you took all but one of the rooms. Now my team doesn’t have enough.”

“C’mon, I’ve seen you guys cram into one room before.”

“Yeah, but they’re exhausted. We haven’t had our own beds in weeks and I promised them…” your voice trailed off. Why the hell were you even explaining any of this to him? “You know what? Just forget it–” you turned back towards the receptionist. “I’ll take the one room, please.”

After passing your card over and paying, you turned and pushed back past Tyler and Boone. But before you could reach the door, Tyler’s voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“What are you just gonna go back on your promise? That’s really gonna disappoint your team–”

“I’ll sleep in the damn truck,” you snapped, zero patience for any of his sarcasm or feeble attempts at a joke. “Happy?”

“Hey–” he said, voice softening instantly. “I was just kiddin’ around.”

“Really funny,” you said, sarcasm dripping off your tongue, now more than usual, Tyler was getting on your nerves. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and disappoint my team.”

Without waiting for whatever retort Tyler could come up with next, you finally pushed your way through the door without looking back. 

You found Halle and Anna in the same place you left them– still sitting on the curb, slouched over and exhausted-looking.  

“Hey guys, bad news–” you began, guilt already spreading through your stomach. But before you could, the bell to the lobby door rang out, causing you to groan.  

You took a deep, steadying breath to calm your nerves, just in time for Tyler to speak. “Now I have an idea– how about we share? I got three rooms for my team, but that’s six beds… we only need five.”

You spun around so fast, you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash. “Look Tyler, as much as you know I love your antics, can we not do this right now? Please?”

“Who said anythin’ about antics?” he pressed. “I’m bein’ serious here. Your two can have their beds and you can take one of ours.”

“No way,” you spat quickly. “I’m sleeping in the car.”

By now, Halle and Anna had seemingly picked up on the situation. They stood up and crossed their arms disapprovingly in unison. 

“You can’t sleep in the car, that’s ridiculous,” Anna said. 

“Yeah, why don’t you and Anna take the room and I’ll share with Tyler’s crew,” Halle offered. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I promised you guys a good night’s sleep tonight– I’m not letting you crash with them.”

“Well we’re not letting you sleep in the car,” Halle argued back. “It’s like… eighty-five degrees out here.” 

You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, trying to think. But the truth was, you really were just so, so tired. You wanted everything about today– the storm cells you got wrong from earlier, the endless hours of driving, and lack of sleep, over with. And if bunking with someone from Tyler’s crew was the only way to make that happen, well then, so be it, you finally decided. Better you than Halle or Anna. 

“See– even your team isn’t as scared of us as you are,” Tyler chuckled. 

“Fine,” you snapped, shaking your head in disbelief. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Who am I sharing with?”

Maybe you’d get lucky and get to room with Dani or Lilly–

“That would be me,” Tyler chirped, eyes glistening under the streetlamp. 

Well fuck me, you thought. 

…

You curled up in the double bed closest to the wall. By the time you got up to the room, Tyler had already claimed the one closest to the door.

You heard the water snap off in the bathroom, followed by the sound of Tyler peeling back the shower curtain. That was your cue to feign sleep, if only to avoid any further conversation with him for the night. You rolled over and pulled the blankets up to your chin. 

After a few minutes, he emerged from the bathroom– the noise from the fan growing louder and a sudden whiff of his shampoo washing over you. You’d never admit it– but the way he smelled was actually one of the few things you liked about Tyler. 

“I know you’re not sleepin’,” he said as he began rummaging through his bag. 

“How the hell would you know that?” you groaned. 

You heard him chuckle softly. “Because you wouldn’t have answered if you were.”

This fucking cowboy. 

“Well I’d like to be sleeping,” you said, still not rolling over to face him. 

“And here I was hopin’ we’d use our little sleepover to get to know each other a little better.”

“You can lay off the act,” you said suddenly, all of your anger and exhaustion just melting into a pool of unfiltered irritation. 

There was a brief pause before Tyler replied, “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s no audience in here– no team members watching, no YouTube subscribers viewing us. You don’t have to pretend to be all sweet and charming.”

“I wasn’t aware I was pretending–”

“Oh cut the shit, Tyler. You love to drive me crazy me– just admit it. And it's probably my fault for letting you get to me so easily. But I mean, c'mon, was it your plan all along to just get me to share a room with you so you could keep me up all night getting to know me better?”

He let out a huff of air that sounded frustrated, as opposed to his usual amusement. “You’re something else, Y/N, you know that?”

You were caught off guard by Tyler’s use of your actual name. He always resorted to nicknames– either sweetheart or the town he knew you were from. In fact, in the few years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever repeated your name was the first time you told it to him. 

You sat up in bed and finally turned to face him– trying to gauge his demeanor. 

“I offer you a room– I didn’t have to do that, you know? And believe it or not, I didn’t offer it to you just to make your life miserable. I did it because I didn’t like the idea of you sleepin’ in your car alone–” he shook his head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Goodnight.”

Before you could even think of a reply, Tyler was peeling back the covers of his own bed and crawling in. He laid on his left side, back facing you.

You stayed in place for a moment, too stunned to move or speak or do much of anything.

Eventually, you laid back down, trying your best to deny the pool of guilt spreading through your stomach.

… 

With one arm you held on to your sister's hand as hard as you could– feeling the muscles in your shoulder strain and pop as you did. 

“Hold on!” you shouted, pleading with her not to let go. 

With your other hand, you were clinging to the handle on the storm shelter door. Somehow it had managed to pop open after the two of you had escaped inside. 

She looked down at you, her body suspended in the air– nothing but sheer, unfiltered terror reflecting in her round-rimmed glasses. 

“C’mon!” you screamed. 

“Please–” she gasped. “Please don’t let me go!”

“I got you!” you screamed, but you could feel that your grip on her clammy hand wasn’t as tight as it needed to be. “No–” you yelled. 

“Don’t let me go–” she repeated, nails digging into your skin desperately. 

But you didn’t even have time to adjust your grip before she was slipping away– in the end, the winds won. 

In the blink of an eye, her body was being sucked away from you– further and further into the dark storm clouds barreling your way. 

“No!” you screamed, reaching for the spot her body was moments before. “No!” 

But then you felt your own grip slipping on the door handle and you knew you needed both hands to hold on if you wanted to survive. So, using all your strength– you dragged yourself to the bottom of the storm shelter. You found the safest corner– next to some old piping to curl up. 

The whole time the storm raged on above you– you couldn’t stop screaming. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead against your knees, making yourself as small as possible. And then, with everything you had left, you wound your arms around the piping and held on like your life depended on it… because it did. 

…

Your name sounded so distant when you heard someone calling it– like it was miles away. Then, vaguely, it came more into focus as it was called again. 

The third time, it was right next to you– and it was familiar… but you didn’t dare to look up. What if the storm was still raging outside? What if it took you next? 

Hands gripped your shoulders– causing you to jolt awake. 

Your eyes shot open as you pulled yourself from your nightmare. Tyler was sitting on the edge of your bed, his mouth hung open, like he was out of breath. 

“Tyler?” you croaked, attempting to sit up from the mattress. 

“You’re okay,” he said instantly. “You’re okay– you’re safe.”

Once you had managed to sit up, you studied Tyler’s face for a moment, trying desperately to gauge if any of this was real. Despite the darkness around you, you could still make out every feature– every crease, every freckle, every single piece of stubble that made up his shaved beard. And as much as you’d admired Tyler’s face in the last few years, even you knew that you couldn’t have been that detailed in your imagination.   

You wanted to ask what the hell he was doing there– how he had gotten in her room, when all of a sudden, the same memories that had plagued you in your dream resurfaced in your mind.

The sight of the EF4 tornado that destroyed every inch of your childhood home. The image of your sister’s terrified face– right before she was ripped from your grasp. The sound of her scream, dissipating with the raging winds. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Tyler soothed. 

You turned to face him– Tyler was here because he’d let you share his room… because he was way kinder than you ever gave him credit for. And now he was here– witnessing you completely falling apart.

Tyler’s lips began moving– he was talking. But despite the vague comfort from his tone of voice, you couldn’t really make out what he was saying. It was like the winds were still raging around you– muffling everything. 

You felt like your heart might just beat out of your chest– maybe that was the tornado working to rip it from your skin. 

“Hey–” a voice… no, not a voice. Tyler’s voice, said. “You gotta breathe.”

What was he talking about? You were breathing– of course you were breathing. Unless... unless the tornado ripped out your lungs instead of your heart. And now that you thought about it, no, actually, you weren’t breathing. You tried to inhale in, but the air wouldn’t come. You gasped, chest tightening while you began to tremble. 

Your lungs weren’t in your chest– your lungs flew away– just like your sister.

Firm, rough hands cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look forward. You were met by Tyler’s green eyes, currently blown open and wide with worry. 

“Breathe, baby,” he instructed. “With me– look.”

Baby, you thought. That was a new one. You didn’t hate it nearly as much as you hated sweetheart. 

You watched desperately as Tyler inhaled and exhaled exaggeratedly, like he was hoping you’d follow along.  

You tried. Really, you did.

Your wide, desperate eyes met his. But instead of following along, all you could do was imagine what your sister’s body had looked like after being struck by debris and tossed halfway across town–

“With me,” Tyler repeated firmly, his thumb stroking across the surface of your cheek gently. You leaned into his touch, craving comfort. 

Tyler continued producing loud and deliberate, slow and calming breaths. After a few seconds, you latched onto the sound, mimicking it, and following along the best that you could. 

Your shoulders relaxed slightly when you realized that you could actually breathe– which meant that EF5 hadn’t actually ripped them out of your chest. 

Tyler’s brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “There you go,” he whispered.

“Did I wake you up?” you asked quietly, feeling even guiltier than you had for snapping at him all night. 

He hesitated– like he was actually debating on lying to you or not. 

“Was I screaming?” 

“I mean, a little bit–”

You nodded before letting your gaze fall to your lap, where you began picking harshly at an old hangnail, a feeble attempt to distract yourself. 

“Do you–” Tyler began. “Do you have those nightmares often?”

Now it was your turn to contemplate lying. But then you remembered what an absolute jerk you’d been to Tyler all night, and figured you at least owed him the truth. 

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s partially why I wanted to sleep in the truck.”

Tyler smiled softly. “And here I was thinking it was because you hated me so much.”

“I’m sorry–” you began, voice shaking slightly. “I know I can be a jerk.”

One of Tyler’s eyebrows shot up like he was surprised. 

“What?” you asked. 

“No it’s just… that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you apologize.”

“What can I say?” you mumbled, trying to make light of things. “You seem to always see the worst versions of myself.” 

Tyler’s gaze softened, like he knew you were talking about more than your lack of apologies. After a moment he sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Glancing up, you hesitated. Your heart had just stopped pounding in your chest, but the thought of talking about what had happened in your home just a few short years ago made it speed up again.  

“You don’t have to–” Tyler said quickly. 

“No– it’s just…” your voice faltered. “I just haven’t really talked about it.” 

Tyler was patient. He stayed still on the edge of your bed and waited for you to be ready. After you sorted through some of the thoughts in your head you whispered, “You know I’ve been chasing in Oklahoma since I was a teenager?”

Tyler’s face lit up in surprise. 

“It’s true. I took a few years off… and when I came back, I was upset to see Oklahoma had a new storm chaser. One that everyone seemed to like more than me,” you admitted. You weren’t sure why this was all flowing out so freely, but even you had to admit that it felt nice to be honest. “That’s why I’ve been so mean to you, I think. It felt like you were encroaching on my turf. And then you showed up with your fancy truck– and all your gear, and I suppose I just felt a little jealous.” 

Tyler nodded in understanding. “Why’d you take a few years off?”

Your voice caught in your throat. Only when you hung your head did you feel confident enough to answer. “Remember that EF5 that hit Logan County a few years back?”

Tyler nodded. 

“My family’s farm was in Logan County. My parents were away– on a weekend trip to Colorado to see family. But I’d convinced my sister to stay home with me, because I didn’t want to go,” the words that were your mouth suddenly didn’t feel like yours. And the trembling hands in your lap didn’t feel like yours either. 

“The storm turned last minute. We barely had any warning. But I grabbed my sister– and we ran to the storm shelter. We made it, too– but then the door ripped open. When she went to shut it…” your voice trailed off. “Well you can use your imagination for the rest.”

You finally gathered up enough courage to glance up at Tyler. His eyes were fixated on you– sadness and sympathy plastered all over his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said genuinely. 

“Yeah, well…” you said weakly. “The worst part is– I think I remember locking the storm shelter door– but I wonder every single day of my life if I accidentally forgot. Which… I mean, convincing her to stay home already makes it partially my fault. But I can write that one off– and remind myself I didn’t know what was going to happen. But forgetting to lock the storm shelter?” you sighed. “That would be a harder one to forgive myself for.”

Tyler scooted closer towards you on the bed. He raised his hand– he was reaching out to comfort you. But then he pulled back, like he thought better. You were surprised by how disappointed that made you. 

“It’s not your fault–” Tyler assured you. 

It was the same thing your parents had said your whole life– so why couldn’t you believe it? 

“I guess it doesn't really matter whose fault it was,” you said. “She’s gone and I’m not. I took a few years off from chasing because I just couldn’t… I couldn’t get myself in the right headspace for it. Every time I saw a cell forming, I’d panic– and I’d want to run from it, not chase it. Things are better now… but every once and a while, I still run. Like today,” you admitted. “I knew the winds changed. I knew the one to the east was gonna die out. That’s why I chose it.” 

Tyler sighed. “And then I gave you shit for it,” he said, remorse in his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you admitted. “And I’m really grateful you let me crash in your room. I think if I’d been screamin’ like that in my car, it would’ve caused quite the scene.”

Tyler’s lips tugged into a gentle smile. “I told you I didn’t mind sharing when it came to you. Plus, I learned more about you during our little sleepover than I have in the last few years chasin’ next to you.” 

“Yeah, well…” you mumbled. “Don’t get used to it.”

Tyler smirked. “Does that mean you’re going to go back to hating me tomorrow, when we’re no longer roommates? Or have I finally cracked through that tough ole shell of yours?”

“You keep offerin’ me motel rooms for free and I’ll be an open book,” you laughed. 

Tyler nodded, like he was storing that offer for later. 

“Hey, I don’t know about you,” he said, suddenly clapping his thighs before standing up. “But all that screaming got me wide awake. You hungry? I’m buying.”

He held out his hand– waiting for you to take it. 

“Are you offering me a room and dinner in one night?” you teased. 

“And all you had to do was reveal your deepest, darkest secrets and traumas to me,” Tyler smirked. 

“Tyler Owens, you’re too easy,” you said, gladly taking his outstretched hand.

[baronessvonglitter]

Darlin’ Cowgirl

Jack Daniels x f!reader

Word count: 3.1K

Summary: looking for a way out of a bachelorette party, an accidental butt dial becomes a booty call

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit and Mature, friends/coworkers to lovers, reader is at least 21, tipsy flirting/dancing, improper use of a mechanical bull, semi-public sex, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, smut, dash of romance with a happily ever after, no use of y/n, reader has hair and wears a dress

Author's Note: this was the first one-shot I'd ever written on AO3 and decided to post here as well 🤠🥃

JACK DANIELS MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You aren't looking forward to the bachelorette party. You don't even like weddings, yet somehow you've been roped into being part of your old college roommate's wedding party simply because you ran into her at the grocery store a few months back. It was only when you had the bridal shower that you realized you were one of thirteen bridesmaids. Great. Now you'll feel even more invisible than you already do.

You've been in a slump lately, and the only thing bringing out of it is your devilishly handsome coworker Jack Daniels, aka Agent Whiskey. You're an Information Security Specialist for the Statesmen, an ultra-secret espionage agency, so naturally you keep the details of your job pretty hush-hush. Whiskey, as you affectionately call him, is one of your few confidantes, despite the fact that he flirts with you at every turn. You admit to yourself that it's a nice distraction from your loneliness, even if you feel his flirtatiousness is just a bit of fun for him, his own distraction.

You take your time in dressing up for the night: a spaghetti strap black minidress with a plunging neckline and silver cowgirl boots. At the bar you meet up with your fellow bridesmaids and the bride-to-be, who are all in shades of pink and white, near exact replicas of each other, nearly indistinguishable. You stick out like a sore thumb and you know it.

The bridesmaids want to take shots so you take some with them, hoping your anxiety will dilute just a little. Your inhibitions are lowered just a little, but not enough to go out to the dance floor with the others. You watch as others watch them, in admiration as they laugh and gracefully (despite the Buttery Nipple shots they'd all consumed just minutes ago) and wish you could be part of them. You hang back at the bar, politely declining offers to dance from men who come by to not-so-subtly ogle you. You feel like a piece of meat. Perhaps it was a bad idea to come out, knowing you hate places like this. However, just as you're about to order a Lyft, you get an incoming call from Whiskey himself.

Confused and blushing you go to a quieter place of the bar, which is still very loud. "Hello?" you practically shout into the phone.

"Hey darlin'!" you hear Jack's voice on the other end. "You called me?"

"Um.. no, I didn't.."

He chuckles, warm and low in your ear. "Yes you did, darlin'. I was hopin' you were okay."

You quickly check your call log and sure enough, you'd called him about fifteen minutes ago, when you and the bridesmaids were doing shots. "I must have butt-dialed you," you shout back, giggling.

"Aw, lucky me," he drawls. "That pretty ass was thinkin' about me?"

You're too flustered to reply.

"Where are you anyway? Loud as hell over there."

"I'm at a bar for a bridesmaid party."

"That one you were talkin' about earlier today? No invite, huh?"

You giggle again. "It's for women only."

"Exactly! That's my kinda good time!" You hear him chuckle again.

"Actually it's kinda lame. I'm thinking of calling it a night."

"Don't you dare," he says with mock authority. "Wait there a minute and I'll be on my way. Text me the address."

You hang up and text him, wondering what he's up to. You've never hung out with him after work, even with all the flirting you've both done. You think it's strictly professional with a touch of playfulness, but you've never been one hundred percent sure.

You hang out at the bar, wanting to be visible to him when he arrives, but it's only after you're returned from the ladies' room checking your makeup, outfit and hair, that you see him, well the back of him, and he's mingling with some of the bridesmaids, who are obviously taking a much-needed alcohol break from dancing.

You gently touch his shoulder. "Hey there, stranger."

He turns, smiling, and the look in his eyes becomes one of pure lust. He drinks you in, unabashedly. "Damn darlin', you look so good it hurts," he drawls.

You glance at the bridesmaids, most of whom are checking him out with flagrant interest. "Did you meet everyone? Kaitlyn's the bride-to-be," you introduce them.

"I have, and her husband's one lucky sonofabitch, if I may say so," he places a gentlemanly kiss on the bride's hand and she in turn blushes. "Who's your friend?" she asks.

"A coworker," you say mysteriously, glancing at Jack, who has now turned his whole attention to you.

"You wanna dance, darlin'?" he asks, extending his hand to you.

Your stomach drops, just because you're pretty shy about dancing, and if anything you'd like to leave him with the impression that you can at least move in rhythm. "Maybe the next song," you suggest. "But first, how about a couple of shots? On me."

He smiles and shakes his head. "Darlin', I can't allow that. My treat," he insists, and orders a couple shots of whiskey for you and him.

"Had to be whiskey, huh?" you tease him, taking the shot glass in your hand.

"Of course." He lifts his glass to yours for a toast. "To coworkers getting to know each other better," he says, and there's a twinkle in his deep brown eyes that's hard to miss.

"To getting to know each other better," you grin and down the shot. It's like fire in your throat and stomach.

"Too much for ya to handle?" he teases, having downed his with ease.

"Depends.. which Whiskey are you talking about?" you tease back, feeling a little surge of confidence that either comes from Jack or from the shot.

"You're a little firecracker," he says in a low voice, his eyes blatantly going over every line and curve of your face, and downwards to eyeball your neck, the curve of your breasts. You wonder what he's imagining.

"Firecrackers are fun but dangerous," you warn him with a cheeky smile.

"We both know I'm all about that danger. Ain't nothin' I can't handle.." a subtle lift of his brows suggests he means more than mere flirtation.

"Is that a challenge?" You step closer to him, and the scent of his cologne, notes of leather and tobacco, catches your attention.

He notices your stance, the way you've shifted from a sweetheart wallflower to a provocative temptress. "What if it is?" he whispers into your ear, his breath tickling your skin and raising goosebumps on your flesh.

You follow his lead and whisper into his own ear, your lips grazing his cheek. "Then I accept.." you keep the ghost of a kiss upon his freshly shaven cheek and slowly pull back, looking into his eyes and seeing a newly effected desire there. "Dance with me." You bring him out to the floor, having completely lost sight of the bridesmaids. Nothing exists now but you and Jack and this chemistry that's been building between you.

His hands are on your hips as "Neon Moon" starts to play, a slow and soulful song that suits the mood you're both in. The colored lights sweep across the room, casting blue and scarlet and amber glows across the crowd. You're lost in each other, in the touch of his hands on your hips, the way he caresses them, loving their shape. You rest your hands on his broad, strong shoulders.

"You're a good dancer, Jack. You know what they say about men who are good dancers," you tell him suggestively.

"Really? What do they think, Gorgeous?" He pulls you even closer so your bodies are practically flush together.

"That they're good in bed," you answer with an arch of your brow, as if to imply it was beyond your belief.

He looks at you like a man looking at his first meal in a week of starvation. "Do you want to find out just how good of a.. dancer I am?"

Heat blooms across your body, and your pussy clenches in response. It only takes a moment to imagine what it would be like, riding this cowboy. You see him and you realize you have him right where you want him. "There is something I've been dying to ride.." you gently tug his shirt to bring him closer, as if in a kiss..

For a moment he looks like he's going to melt from the heat coming off you. "Oh yeah, darlin'? And what exactly is that?" he smirks.

Your face lights up. "That mechanical bull!" You grab Jack's hand and lead him across the huge barroom to the line to ride the bull. Sneaking a look at his face, Whiskey looks bewildered, but manages to cover it just in time. "That stupid thing? I can think of something more fun to ride," he smirks again and you resist the urge to drag him outside and let him have his way with you in the alleyway.

You only smirk back at him as the operator calls you to come forward and get atop the bull. Getting on top is easy, but staying on will be hard. As soon as you're situated, the bull starts spinning and bucking, slowly at first to let you get your bearings. You laugh and hold on, your body moving with the bull, anticipating its every move. Your hips grind down to the leather, thighs locked tight as you move your pelvis forward. Catching Whiskey's eye you blow him a kiss.

Seeing that the ride is winding down, he goes up to the operator and pays him to let you go again. This time, apparently on Whiskey's orders, the ride goes slower, allowing you to continue your little show for Jack. Keeping eye contact with him, you imagine it's him beneath you. Suddenly you gasp as you realize the bull is moving faster, and you watch as Jack's expression turns dark, lustful. You bite your lip as the speed increases. Pleasure pools in your belly, more specifically between your thighs, and the first stirrings of pleasure begin to radiate outward to your limbs, You rear your head back, face pointed up in ecstasy, and a rolling thunder starts in your veins.

You don't realize it until it's happening but you're being led away by Whiskey to a small corridor where no one can see you, and buries his face in your neck. "Tell me to stop if that's what you want," he says, his voice strained. "But by all that's holy, you are the hottest god damn thing I've ever seen."

But by then your leg is already hooked around his hip, shamelessly rubbing against him, the pleasure from the bull ride still fresh in your body. "I don't want you to stop," you whisper.

He growls low in his throat, which you dare to kiss, grazing your teeth across his skin. He gives a sharp hiss, and when he presses against you you feel proof of his desire, as if you needed any more. His hand goes beneath the hem of your dress and slides up, finding the edge of your lace panties. "Black?" he murmurs, his lips still against your neck.

"How did you know?"

You feel the curve of his smile against your skin. "I always know." His fingers trace your inner thighs before dipping into your heated, slick cunt. "Christ woman, you're soaking wet. For me." With his fingers inside you he kisses you, and you tip your face up to lean into his kiss, He slowly pumps two thick fingers inside as he slips his tongue into your mouth, mimicking the movements, earning a deep moan then a whimper from you.

"Watching you ride that bull, I just know it was me you were thinkin' of," he whispers huskily against your ear. "God damn if you aren't the most gorgeous thing I ever laid eyes on,, been wantin' you a long time, darlin'."

Through the haze of desire you smile, finding the temerity to feel touched by his words. "Took you long enough to show it," you tease, cupping the back of his head as you kiss, leaning against the wall as he fingers your wetness.

He groans again. "As much as I want to continue, I'd like to find a more comfortable place to fuck you." He pauses to look to you for consent. "That is, if you still want this."

You reply by palming his rigid cock, already threatening to poke through his tailored trousers. "I absolutely do.."

In a flurry of movement he brings you outside. The bachelorette party is the last thing on your mind, if you even still remember it, All you can think of is being with Jack. He leads you to his truck, the spacious backseat warm and inviting. He's on you again as that door is closed, His mouth finds yours, tongue claiming you. "I want to be gentle, but I don't think I have it in me right now," he admits.

You shake your head. "I'm not asking for gentle, I'm asking you to fuck me, Jack."

You've never called him by his name before, never been so informal with him, but the look in his eyes tells you it's perfectly all right by him. He lays you down on the seat. "Can I get a little taste of ya, darlin'? Been wonderin' what you'd taste like since the day we met."

This draws a sweet whimper from you, to hear he'd always wanted you. "God yes, please.."

He gingerly removes your panties, kissing his way back up your calves and thighs once they're off. You blush when he breathes in your scent. His hands cup the backs of your thighs, hooking them over his shoulders and you can't help but feel exposed. "Christ.. woman, you're gonna be the death of me," he mutters before taking off his hat and leaning in to devour you.

You give a sharp gasp as you lean your head back against the seat, hands mussing his hair as he laps at your wet cunt, licking up your folds and dipping his tongue inside you. He gently laps at your clit, using more pressure with each lick until he cups his lips around it and sucks, listening to how much you like it, how much more you need.

"Fuck!" you shout, a victorious roar as you feel yourself so close to that edge, and Whiskey is happy to let you use him for your pleasure. His tongue draws shapes upon your clit, alternating between swiping with his tongue and suckling it. Only when you come and he sweeps across every fold to drink up your juices does he stop.

You practically push him down, effectively trading places with him as you kneel before him. "My turn.."

His gaze turns dark even as his face lights up. "Hell, I'm not sayin' no to that, darlin'."

Smiling, you undo his trousers and pull them down with his briefs. His cock springs out, thick and long, perfectly curved, smooth, perfect. "God, I just knew you'd have a big dick.." you whisper, tracing with your tongue from root to head.

Whiskey exhales, watching you work on him. He palms the back of your head but doesn't urge you any further than what's comfortable for you. You use your hand to stroke his base while getting the first few inches of him into your mouth, daring to deep-throat him, wanting to see that look on his face, wanting to see him go crazy for you.

"Jesus, darlin'. I'm so on edge right now I might just burst if you keep doin' that," he chuckles. "Get on up here and ride me, gorgeous."

You feel your heart pound in every extremity of your body, especially your cunt, as you get up and straddle him, hiking up your dress. He stops you a moment and caresses your cheek. "This okay with you, darlin'? I have protection if you prefer.."

You smile and shake your head. "I'm on birth control, and I'm clean."

He smiles back. "Ah good. I'm clean too, darlin'." You know it has to be true, as the agents do periodic physicals and are prohibited from missions for the slightest findings.

Kissing him, you rise over him, using your hands to find him and bring him into you. He slides in without any resistance, and you take your time trying to get as much of him inside as you can. "Fuck, Jack," you whisper as he fills you.

Through the pleasure of connecting your bodies he smirks. "Is that an order?"

You giggle a little. "Looks like I'm the one doing the fucking." Just as you say that, he pushes up from under you, moving you up, filling you up just a little bit more. "God!!"

Sinking his teeth in to his lower lip he grabs onto your hips and moves you how he wants, watching your body for clues on what you like and what you want more of. He pulls the front of your dress down and frees your breasts, suckling on each nipple at a time as you melt on top of him, inadvertently letting more of him inside. He's fucking you and you're fucking him.

You grab his hat from the seat next to you and put it on yourself, riding your cowboy. Whiskey watches you, whispering your name, calling you his Cowgirl, bucking his hips up into you until he bottoms out, then lifting you with long strokes until you push him down to grind down. His thumb flicks over your clit, swirling the letters of your name and his, hearing your wild moans and shuddering sighs. You've never come so hard or so fast. You feel the first fluttery feelings deep within, and they shoot through your veins, lighting up your entire nervous system, and you scream his name as your cunt clenches spasmodically around his cock, and soon you feel him spill his cum deep inside you, spurting its warmth to your insides.

It takes a moment for you to come back to earth, and when you do, Whiskey is kissing you, tenderly, with the remainder of the passion you two just shared. "That was.. wow," you sigh, feeling shy around him now, of all times.

"It was spectacular, darlin'. I hope you know I'm gonna want you again," he puts his forehead to yours.

"Is that so?" You blush with elation.

"Of course darlin'. I'm hopin' to make this a long-term association, if you're so willin'. But on one condition."

You raise a brow. "Already calling the shots, huh? What's the condition?"

"That the only thing you ride is me. Ain't no way I'm being upstaged by a damn mechanical bull ever again."

You laugh, and he loves the sound of it. "We'll put a pin in that conversation."

He strokes your hair. The electric light from the bar sign lights up the inside of the truck, magenta and cyan. "You comin' home with me tonight, Cowgirl?"

You smile and give him a soft kiss. "You bet, Cowboy."

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[zukkook]

sunburn — choi san

summary | you had your fun at the beach, enjoyed the warm sunlight and the calming sound of the waves. but now you're tired and your back hurts, so a nap is the only thing on your mind... not for your boyfriend though. he just wants attention.

pairing | choi san x reader genre | fluff, suggestive, established relationship word count | 2.4k warnings | mentions of sex, a little spicy but no actual smut

a/n: yes, this was in fact a hundred percent inspired by me forgetting to put sunscreen on before going to spend 2+ hours at the beach.

The voices and laughter coming from the kitchen are muffled by the closed door of the room you are in. You went in there earlier, after telling your friends that you would like to rest for a bit and to only bother you once the food is ready. Truthfully, you do feel bad about not offering a hand with lunch and, on any other occasion, you would be more than willing to get up and help. But after spending the morning at the beach with no sunscreen on, your back and your shoulders are scorching red and any slight movement hurts like hell. So you opted for lying on your front on the single bed of the room you and San were assigned, hoping for the burning sensation to let up. Luckily, your friends were very understanding, and Seonghwa even offered to bring you a plate when they are done cooking so you don’t have to move much, but you refused.

You have no clue how long you have been in there, especially with how you keep dozing off. With Mingi’s boisterous laugh resonating in every corner of the house, you thought you wouldn’t get much rest. But turns out you were awfully wrong, considering all of the noise coming from outside does nothing but act as a peculiar lullaby.

Not even the sound of the door opening is enough to make you raise your head from the pillow. At least not until someone drops all of their weight on top of you, making you both bounce slightly on the mattress.

There is no need to ask who it is or to turn around to see for yourself because you already know the answer. The way they are tightly hugging your waist while shamelessly burying their face between your shoulder blades is a dead giveaway. Only a couple of people in the entire house would dare to do such a thing without a care in the world. And considering you can hear Wooyoung screeching outside, that only leaves one suspect.

But knowing who it is doesn’t stop you from groaning. The sensation of cloth brushing against your burning shoulders is too uncomfortable to bear, yet the person on top of you seems to be too focused on rubbing his cheek against your back to notice you are in pain.

“San,” you mumble.

“Mhm?”

Even though you can’t see him, and even when no actual words come from his mouth, you know he is smiling. You can hear it in the pleased tone of his voice.

“My back.”

“What?” He asks, slightly raising his head from your back to look at the side of your face.

“My back,” you repeat a bit louder.

San furrows his brows instead of answering, still not fully comprehending what you are trying to say. It takes him no more than a few seconds to separate his head from your back and glance downwards. When he finally notices the reddish skin along your body his eyes widen and he hurries to get off of you.

“Oh my God!” He exclaims. “I’m so sorry, baby! I forgot.”

He lies on his front right next to you, mirroring your form. The bed is way too small for the both of you to be resting on it at a comfortable distance, but you have been sharing it since your group arrived at the summer house a couple of days ago, so you are used to it by now. It was clear from the start that there were not enough beds for everyone, so some special arrangements had to be made. These arrangements ended with some people sleeping in the living room, taking all over the couches, and a poor Mingi having no other choice but to lie on the floor. No couch was big enough for him anyway. The rest ended up sharing the few beds available, landing you with a single bed in the smallest room of the house. Initially, San was going to share one of the couches in the living room with Wooyoung. But after the other boy pushed him in his sleep and sent him down to the floor during the first night there, San sneaked inside your room and asked if he could share the bed with you. And of course, you said yes.

A soft laugh makes its way out of your lips while you turn your head on the pillow to rest your gaze on his worried one.

“It’s okay, Sannie. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

The worry in his eyes blurs into sympathy when he leans forward to place a delicate kiss on your shoulder, trying his best not to let the simple action hurt you in any way. The softness behind his moves is enough to make a faint smile appear on your lips. He always treats you like this, like you are deserving of every bit of love he has to give. Like you are the most beautiful piece of art he has ever laid eyes on. But even after his countless shows of affection, his tenderness never fails to take you by surprise, making the butterflies in your stomach come alive every single time.

When he leans back, he drops his head on the little bit of space left on the pillow you are using. As a consequence, his face is now resting centimeters away from yours. At this distance, you can feel every warm breath he lets out, smell the sweetness of his cologne and see even the tiniest of moles adorning his cheeks.

By the time you become aware of the way his eyes travel down your face to rest at a certain spot, he is moving again. The arm that was stuck between both of your bodies is now sneaking around your lower back, sliding across it until it wraps around your waist. Meanwhile, his leg finds its way between your legs, tangling them together and allowing him to slightly caress the exposed skin there with the inside of his foot.

“Is this okay?” He asks. His voice is low and soft against your face.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Neither of you say much after that, basking in the comfortable silence that forms between you two. From time to time, San leans forward again to leave more of those tender kisses on your exposed shoulder, while simultaneously rubbing any non-burnt skin he can find with the hand resting on your waist. His gentle ministrations, combined with the sound of the softened chatting in the kitchen, relax you enough to have you dozing off again.

But before your mind can shut down completely, he opens his mouth.

“Baby.”

“Mhm?”

He is pressing his lips against your shoulder, unable to stop the sweet kisses before the words sputter out of his mouth.

“Would I be too much of an ass if I asked you to have sex with me right now?”

His eyes are barely open, looking up at you lazily. It seems like he has been dozing off as well.

“What the hell, San?” You snort, not sure how to react, but still feel the laughter threatening to escape from the back of your throat.

San’s brows furrow as he leans back from your shoulder, his head hovering over the pillow.

“What? You were running around all day in that new bikini you bought. What did you expect from me?” 

He pouts as he finally lets his head rest fully on the pillow. You don’t realize he is actually trying to hide his face on it until he continues talking, this time at an even lower volume, as if he were about to confess to something embarrassing.

“You looked hot. I got turned on…”

Your eyes widen as you can’t hold it in anymore and a rather wild laugh escapes you, your whole body shaking from the force of it and taking away the little sleep that remained in you.

“San!”

Trying to hide the sudden blush that takes over his cheeks, San fully buries his face in the pillow this time. The action is futile though: you’ve already noticed the warmth on them as well as the grin that takes over his face, toeing the line between a shy smile and a straight-up smirk.

“I’m sorry!” He laughs, the sound coming off muffled.

He eventually becomes brave enough to take a peek at your face, his short black fringe tousled by the pillow. He is relieved to see that you are not mad at his previous words but amused by them instead.

But suddenly your brows furrow, and San sees the exact moment something seems to click in your head.

“Wait a minute,” you say. His smile fades at your abrupt seriousness and gets replaced by a blank expression. “Are you saying that you’ve been turned on this whole time?”

He stares at you with his eyes blinking at an irregular pace. His lips keep opening and closing again, trying to come up with something to say, but nothing escapes them in the end. He is short-circuiting. That is answer enough.

“Oh my God, San!” You explode in laughter again, half shocked, half amused. “The reason you came in here in the first place was because you wanted to fuck, wasn’t it?”

Once again, you don’t really need him to say anything. You already know the answer to that question, if the way he was touching you and kissing you earlier is anything to go by. Sure, San is a very touchy and affectionate person by nature. But considering you have been dating him for a couple of years now, you usually pride yourself in how effortlessly you can read him. It is rather easy to tell when his gentle caresses hide a different intention. The only reason you weren’t able to catch on to it faster this time probably has to do with the newly acquired sunburnt on your back and how tired you got from it.

Seeing that you aren’t actually mad at him, San lets himself relax again, allowing a smirk to take hold of his lips. He adjusts his position, tightening his hold on you and bringing his mouth back against the reddened skin of your shoulder.

“Would you get angry with me if I said yes?”

The warmth that comes with the brush of his lips against your skin extends to the rest of your body. It doesn’t matter that you are wearing shorts and a rather thin top, with most of your skin exposed for the world to see, because San’s heated touches are making your body temperature go up to the point that you are starting to feel uncomfortable in your own skin.

You shiver slightly when his lips start wandering further away from your shoulder and closer to the side of your neck. You have to move your head to allow him more space and he accepts it gladly, giggling softly into the crook of your neck before delivering several open mouthed kisses to the area.

“You’re cute when you get flustered.”

You can try and blame the sun for the color on your cheeks and the warmth of your skin, sure. But there is no one you can blame for the way your body keeps trembling every time his breath hits your neck. This time you can’t take it anymore.

It’s your turn to bury your face in the pillow.

“Please, stop!” You squeak.

San giggles again at your shy attitude, but still retreats from your neck and offers you a bit of space to breathe and calm down. Or as much space as the bed allows him at least.

You are not brave enough to admit it out loud, but you instantly miss the warmth that his lips provide you with.

“Sorry.”

You slowly turn your head to look at him, trying your best to ignore how your cheeks are still burning up.

“No, no. It’s okay. I just…” Amused by the whole situation, you laugh before you can say anything else, trying to put your thoughts in order before you continue. You can’t decide if San’s gentle strokes on the exposed skin of your waist are helping at all or only making things worse for you, but you push yourself to ignore them and keep going. “I tell you that I burned my back and that my shoulders hurt really bad, and the first thing you do is ask me to have sex with you?”

At your words, San lets out a laugh, his dimples showing. He closes his eyes and lowers his chin to his chest so he can rub the top of his head gently against your shoulder. The mass of smooth black hair shakes with the movement. It is at times like this that you can’t help but be reminded of a big, fluffy cat looking to be petted.

“Okay, I see where I went wrong there.”

When he brings his head back up, he stares directly into your eyes while his soft smile turns into a dark smirk.

“But I mean…” His eyes drop to your lips as he scoots a little bit closer. His lips barely touch yours as he keeps talking, forcing you to drop your very own gaze toward his mouth. “You know I’m never opposed to you riding me…”

Even with San’s lips so close to yours, you have to force yourself to take a deep breath. You didn’t realize that you had stopped breathing completely there, too entranced by his charming aura to worry about something so mundane.

You feel the hand on your waist tighten up for a second before it loosens up again.

“I do love it when you fuck yourself on my dick while I hold your hips so hard there are bruises there the next day.”

His sharp eyes are darker than ever, looking at you in that half-lidded way that never fails to drive you insane.

He is tempting you, to be honest. Tempting you to let go and say yes to anything that he asks of you without second thoughts. Because how can you not when he is giving you a gaze so heated it contrasts deeply with the fondness of his touch? That alone is a dangerous combination that can easily turn into a deadly one if it comes from San specifically. You can handle anyone else, turn them down without hesitation, but never San.

But just when you are about to give in to his proposal, a deafening knock at the door startles the both of you and cuts the tension. Seonghwa’s voice comes from the other side.

“You two better be fully dressed by the time I open this door or I’m not letting you eat even a single crumb!”

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ 22: I just need a chance to breathe

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader

🗡️ word count: 15.9k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️warnings: explicit smut (mention of sex & using a dildo; oral sex; ass eating; threesome; talk of anal & double-penetration but not actually doing it; multiple orgasms, cum eating) messy emotions (because, of course); fireworks used to scare characters (to simulate firearms and/or explosions); anxiety; mention of nightmares; the return of some familiar faces & introduction of new ones.

🗡️ a friendly reminder: if there is anything in the tags that may cause you emotional distress to read, please take care of your mental health and don't push yourself. as with any of my updates/warnings, if you would like to skip over a particular warning, please private message me and i can tell you where to begin and end skipping, as well as give you a rundown of what happens in that section.

🗡️note: wow. hello, friends. it's been a long time since i have come to you with a full chapter. are you ready??? did you know that i decided to turn mc's ex into an actually character??? hehehe. enjoyyy!!!

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on may, 2024 | read on ao3

My Namjoon,

I often dream of you lying in a field of wildflowers. Your body is sunken into green stems and purple petals, which blow gently in the breeze, creating a perfect you-shaped indent. You wear all white with your hands behind your head—relaxed and serene, without a care in the world. 

In my dream, time passes quickly, and the sun always falls, shrouding you in darkness while blotches cover your perfect white clothing and begin to turn deep, blood-red.

I wake up feeling suffocated. I wake up afraid.

My Yoongi,

Your blood is on my hands in my dreams and in the waking world. I know you do not blame me, but the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. I hope one day I will be able to look you in the eye and not feel so ashamed. 

In your arms, I feel like a queen. I feel like I am on top of the entire world. Nobody has ever given that to me before, and nobody could ever come close. 

It is not the height that I fear so badly but the fall back to earth.

My men, 

The last few months have felt like a whirlwind…they have felt like a hundred years. I hardly remember the person I was before I stepped foot in the mansion. Worst of all, I hardly know the person I have become. 

Please don't blame yourselves for my need to break free. The two of you promised to give me the world, and I know with my whole heart that you meant it. You showed me more than once a taste of what that could feel like. 

But I fear I am not meant for this world. I fear that all of the joy and the money and the trips and the jewelry and the champagne and the drugs will only mask the fear and the anguish and the nightmares and the dread. My physical health and my mental health are deteriorating before all of our eyes, and I don't know what to do.

You told me that the only way out of this lifestyle is death, and I can't stick around and watch that happen. I know it makes me a coward. I know that leaving with my tail between my legs in order to protect myself will only cause the three of us pain, but I trust that the two of you will get through anything. 

I am not yet ready to say goodbye because I don't want this to be the last thing I say to you two. Maybe I just need a chance to breathe. 

Some day, if all the stars align just right, will you meet me under the aurora borealis?

♡ Your Sweetheart, Your Darling, Your Love

* * *

9 hours earlier.

You lay in a heap of black satin, sweat, and cum, struggling to catch your breath. From the other room, water runs and then stops, and footsteps approach, making you smile. 

"Thirsty?" Jeongguk asks.

All you can say in response is a broken hum. You are parched, but the idea of moving your body after what he just put it through feels impossible. 

Jeongguk chuckles, and the bed dips as he asks, "Like your gift that much, huh?"

The birthday present that Jeongguk was so unwilling to allow you to unwrap at your party is a purple, glittery silicone mold of his dick. And although nothing could beat the original, you tore out of your clothes the moment you saw it, eager to try it. 

"One day we'll anal train you so you can take both of my cocks at once," Jeongguk growled in your ear, holding you by the throat while your back bowed and he fucked you cross-eyed with the toy. 

This is not how you expected your day to go after waking up to a fainting spell and visiting Taehyung's basement hospital. After the way you spiraled in Jimin's coma bed, you have not been able to return home and face Yoongi and Namjoon. 

Nor have you been checking your phone. Everything just feels like too much, and if you are not able to drink or do drugs, then you need the next best thing. 

Luckily for you, Jeongguk is more than eager to supply you with all the orgasms you could ever ask for. 

Unfortunately, he is also eager to talk about shit and destroy this perfect distraction. 

"When are you going to head back home?" he asks, flopping down beside you and draping limbs over your body. Your sweat has begun to turn cold, and you roll toward him, seeking warmth.

"I don't know," you respond flatly. 

A tinge of sadness works its way into your lungs, causing you to choke. It is not as if you are doing anything behind anyone's back, but you still feel somewhat guilty. 

Earlier, while at Taehyung's house, Jeongguk asked his hyungs if they wouldn't mind you swinging by his place to open your gift, and based on their grins and winks, they not only knew what it was, but they expected you to want to play. 

Yoongi saying, "Have fun, you two," with a playful little smirk sealed the deal. 

You do not feel guilty for lying in Jeongguk's bed all fucked out and exhausted. Rather, you feel a preemptive guilt for all the things left unsaid, and all there is yet to do. 

Jeongguk sighs and repositions so that his arms are around you, laying on his side and pulling you into him. You close your eyes and let out a deep exhale, and in the silence between breaths, you make a choice. 

"I guess I should go," you mutter. 

Jeongguk grumbles and hugs tighter, and you allow yourself to be held a few moments longer. You really are going to miss this. 

The urge to cry sneaks up, and you take a deep breath and hold it, then begin to wiggle from Jeongguk's arms. There is absolutely no way you are going to allow him to see you cry again. 

Only you cannot help it. You think about Jimin lying in a coma and how you whispered your goodbyes with a kiss to his cheek. 

You think about leaving Jeongguk here in his bed without granting him a proper goodbye. Would it be rude to take the toy cock with you as a souvenir? There is no way you are not going to.

As you detangle your limbs and sit up, tears fall. You tremble and attempt to breathe through it, but Jeongguk is sitting up in a flash, tilting his head to get a look at your face.

"Stop," you warn, holding your hand up as if to block whatever he might say.

"Stop what?" he asks with a concerned tone.

"Don't call attention to it. I don't want to talk about it."

"Doll—"

You sigh and shake your head. "Please. Please don't make me explain myself."

Silence hangs, then he asks, "Are you alright?"

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

"No."

"What do you need?"

You shrug. "Taehyung says I need a vacation, so I think I am going to take one."

"And that's why you're crying?"

Although Jeongguk's tone is sympathetic, you fight the urge to smack him. 

"I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings, okay? Is that okay?" 

You do not mean to snap, and you even attempt to chuckle through your words. But your tears must make your conviction seem as weak as it feels because Jeongguk simply watches you with a frown.

"It sucks to admit that I can't handle this," you mutter, worried you may have said too much but finding it impossible to keep everything bottled up.

"So, then…what if a vacation isn't enough?" Jeongguk asks.

You wish he wouldn't ask that. Why is Jeongguk, of all fucking people, so in tune with what you are thinking?

You shrug once more. "Then I guess I have to think of a new plan."

Jeongguk hums and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Where will you go?"

Where will you go? Over and over, you have asked yourself this question. But you really have no idea. Wherever Seokjin can send you, you suppose.

"Not sure."

"Alright, well," Jeongguk sighs, "I'll be sure to find you. Wherever you end up…I'll show up."

This makes you chuckle. It is a nice gesture, but it also feels foolish. Jeongguk is not in the position to make such lofty promises, nor would you ever dream of him asking to.

"Jeongguk, what are you talking about?"

"I mean it," he responds, matter-of-factly. "I will find you. You can't just get rid of me, even if you leave the rest of the family behind. I need to be sure that you are okay."

What he says is sweet, but it is too much. You groan and begin to shrug-wiggle out of Jeongguk's hold, then scoot along the bed until you reach the edge and slide off. Your feet hit a soft rug, and you wander around finding your clothing articles, which have been tossed onto the chairs and floor. 

"It's nice of you to say that," you respond, glancing over your shoulder.

Jeongguk sits naked with his legs pretzeled and his back slumped forward, eyes on you with a slight frown tugging his pretty lips. You feel the urge to tip-toe over and kiss the expression from his face, but you hold back, getting dressed instead. 

"Yoongi-hyung won't take it very well if you leave for good," Jeongguk mutters. 

This is not a conversation you want to have, and you take a steady breath before standing straight, doing your best to lie as you say, "I'll try not to leave for good."

* * *

As you walk past Seokjin's mansion, you feel the urge to take a detour and knock on his door. If he weren't such a busy man who likely will not be home at this hour, you would. But instead, you continue toward the mansion.

It is the early evening, but already the sun is setting and you do not want to make your way back in the dark, safe as these paths may be. And you do not want to explain why you are being escorted home by Seokjin, should you find him at his doorstep and talk until it is dark enough that you feel the urge to ask for company. 

The tall trees and shrub walls create deep shadows that appear somewhat menacing in the glow of the property security lights, and it is fucking creepy. Even with the sun still providing hints of light, you grip tightly to the satin ribbon straps of your gift bag and shiver your shoulders up to your ears.

With each step, the leaves and gravel are louder and crunchier than usual. It feels like a mockery the way each sound causes your hair to stand on edge. Especially as you approach your home and realize you have never been granted access to enter on your own. Hard to sneak in when you need to ask permission.

You sigh and pull out your phone, relieved to see that there are no missed calls or texts, and you thumb around to find Yoongi's contact. He picks up on the second ring.

"Hello, darling."

Yoongi's voice is bright and chipper, which is a relief.

"Hey. I'm heading back, and I need to be let inside."

Yoongi chuckles and inhales sharply, then he says, in a voice that is strained in the way a voice gets when someone is talking while holding in their breath, "We're actually outside smoking." He exhales, then adds, "See you in a bit?"

"Oh," you mutter. Now that he mentions it, you do smell the distinct stench of weed, and as you come out of the clearing, you can vaguely make out the shapes of Yoongi and Namjoon standing on the stoop. You smile and say, "Right now, actually."

Yoongi hums, then looks from where he and Namjoon stand in front of the door, to you. Without ending the call, you slide your phone into the pocket of your hoodie—the oversized black one that Jeongguk let you borrow several days ago that you have decided never to return. You smile, feeling a bit of a pep in your step, which falters once you remember what you must do. 

"Darling!" Yoongi calls, holding his arms wide. "Perfect timing. Namjoon and I were craving sushi. Come along?"

Both men wear their standard black uniform, and Yoongi has a black jacket on, as well. Namjoon takes a hit from a joint that is so small, he has to hold it with the very tips of his finger and thumb. As he tilts his head upward and exhales a plume of smoke, Yoongi begins to walk toward you in slow, measured steps. 

"Do I need to change clothes?" you ask because as much as you are hungry, you really do not want to put on a dress. 

Yoongi shrugs, eyes up your stolen hoodie and tight black leggings and shrugs. "If you are comfortable this way, that is fine with me."

You actually expected to have to plead your case, and you are surprised by how amiable Yoongi is. Perhaps he is too hungry to wait for you to change. Or he is starting to calm down about how the public perceives you. 

"Alright," you say, gripping onto the handle of your gift bag. 

Namjoon takes one more hit from the joint and mutters something difficult to hear—you think he asks Yoongi if he wants more of the weed. Yoongi turns to Namjoon and shakes his head, and Namjoon flicks it into the driveway without asking if you want any. You would have said no, anyway.

"Shall we, then?" Yoongi asks, and you nod. 

Namjoon takes a few steps toward Yoongi and kisses him on the side of the head, causing Yoongi to chuckle and turn to Namjoon to press their lips together. Then they speak about something you cannot hear, and Namjoon turns to go into the mansion. 

"He wants to drive your car," Yoongi informs you with a smile. 

The drive into the city is smooth. Namjoon is quiet most of the time, but Yoongi seems to speak at him about this and that—you aren’t really sure. His voice is just hushed enough that it is hard to make out over the soft radio, and you do not strain to listen, enjoying the backseat all to yourself. 

Namjoon drives to a restaurant the three of you have been to before and hands the keys over to the valet attendant. Inside, the hostess bows, then frowns. 

“Oh, mister Min,” she says, glancing around worried. “The private room is occupied at the moment.”

When you turn to Yoongi, there is a hint of a frown on his face, and he squints slightly at the woman. “Occupied?”

The woman nods and drops her gaze down to the wooden hostess podium. 

“My private room is occupied? Interesting.”

The woman looks afraid, eyes scanning around uselessly. She opens her mouth and fumbles around, “I could—we could remove them—I could ask them—“

“A corner booth is fine,” Yoongi says sternly, glancing around the lively, open space. “No windows, please. With a view of the front door.”

“Yes, sir,” The hostess responds, grabbing three menu books with shaking hands. “Right this way, sir.”

“Who has my room?” Yoongi asks before the woman steps away from her podium. 

It is clear that she would ordinarily not give out this kind of information, and she stammers once more, saying, “Y-Yu, sir.”

“Yu?” Yoongi asks, cocking his head. He looks from Namjoon to you, and Namjoon shrugs. 

You only know one person with the name Yu, and it is hard to imagine him dining at a place like this, much less in a room Yoongi keeps on reserve. The last time you saw him, Yoongi had him on his knees at the Han River with a switchblade to his throat. What business would he have here?

The hostess leads the three of you through the restaurant, to a booth in the far corner. Several people look up, and you can hear murmuring as you walk past. You wish you had changed into something a little nicer than a hoodie and leggings, but hold your chin up and follow along. 

The restaurant is just dimly lit enough to feel cozy, but the gold sconces and expensive crystal décor give its opulence away. You can tell this is one of Yoongi's restaurants because the design style is a bit mismatched from what you would expect anywhere else—an amalgamation of comfort and wealth. 

The booth you approach is a horseshoe with a red fabric seat that wraps around a dark wood circular table. Yoongi motions for you to sit first, and you do so, sliding in toward the middle. 

Then he joins you, scooting close and draping his arm over the seat back behind you. Namjoon sits on the other side but keeps some distance, much to your chagrin. 

You understand why Namjoon is distant in public, but you wish it did not have to be this way. It is so nice when the three of you can openly be affectionate. And especially considering this may be the last time the three of you dine…at least, for a while…

Under the table, Yoongi grabs onto your left hand and pulls it onto his lap, pushing his hand into your sweater paw. You glance over the menu, not really paying attention until you feel cold metal on your ring finger and your sleeve getting shoved up to your wrist. 

"You brought it with you?" you tease, glancing at your hand in Yoongi's lap and the giant engagement ring that it sports.

"Just in case," he says, looking at his own menu and rubbing your palm with his thumb. 

It occurs to you that once you do leave, news will undoubtedly spread. Although it may be reasonable to say you are on vacation, how long will that excuse be believable? What will the public whisper about once you are gone for a long time? Especially after Yoongi threw such an extravagant, public birthday party for you, it is hard to imagine the voices won't whisper far and wide. 

Guilt and worry cannot stop you from going through with your plan, and you tell yourself this over and over. No matter how fondly you may feel for these men, you need to stay strong for yourself.

When a server comes by to take everyone's order, you keep your head down. Yoongi and Namjoon confer over items they seem to always get, and you nod along in agreement. 

"Darling?" Yoongi asks when the server leaves, lightly gripping your right thigh and giving it a squeeze. "Something the matter?"

With a shrug, you shake your head and attempt to smile. "I'm just tired, I guess. And stressed about the whole fainting thing."

"Ah, yes," Yoongi responds, thumb rubbing firm circles just above your knee. "Perhaps I should have only ordered one bottle of sake."

"I would like to have a little," you pout. 

Yoongi leans close and presses a kiss against your temple. Instinctively, you close your eyes. 

"As long as you drink more water than alcohol, I will not try to stop you."

Namjoon cuts through the moment, asking, "Did the hostess say someone named Yu was in our room?"

Yoongi sits up tall, looking over you to hum in agreement.

You turn to find Namjoon seated with his arms slung over the back of the booth, somewhat relaxed despite the worried look on his face. He locks eyes with you and asks, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

You are, but there is no plausible way it could be him. Still, you nod. 

"What would he be doing in our room?" he asks. 

Yoongi chuckles. "Yu is not that uncommon of a name."

"He would have had to have convinced the hostess that he knows you," Namjoon says, staring ahead at the table. "Is there anyone on any of our teams who would know to do that?"

"I am certain that there are plenty of people with that name who run drugs or work security," Yoongi responds, sounding bored. "Or who works at one of the hotels, a casino, one of my restaurants. Hell, they might even work at this restaurant. It is not uncommon for people to use my name. Rarely have I managed to catch someone in the act, but I am certain that it must happen all the time."

"I'm surprised you didn't march back there to see who it is," Namjoon somewhat mutters, sending you a wink when you smile at him. 

Yoongi sighs. "I suppose I lack the energy."

Namjoon hums, and you wish Yoongi would elaborate, but you surmise that it may be for the best that he does not. You do worry that perhaps he can sense something is off with your behavior—beyond tiredness and general worry—which, in turn, is worrying him. But the Yoongi you know would come right out and discuss any pressing matters with you, so you brush the thought away.

A server brings two bottles of sake and three tall glasses of water. You reach for a glass of water while Yoongi gets to pouring sake. 

You are shocked that appetizers and entrees are already brought out. Small plates of dumplings, sashimi, and sushi slowly fill the table. And although you have barely eaten all day, you only nibble on a savory pan-fried dumpling while the men eat around you. 

You cannot help but dwell on what Namjoon was saying moments ago, and you are surprised Yoongi is so dismissive of the notion. Your ex has the last name Yu. And if there is anyone on this peninsula who may have a bone to pick with Yoongi, he is likely high on that list. 

That is, if he actually felt some type of way about losing you, which you are not entirely sure could be the case. Things between the two of you had not been great for months—even years—leading up to Yoongi collecting you from him as collateral. 

But there was often talk of reconnecting and building a future together. And although you more or less ignored his ideas, disinterested in the thought of building anything with him, he seemed pretty serious. Could he have continued to love you when the two of you parted?

Although your appetite is subdued by anxiety, you do your best to eat, slowly chewing on a piece of sushi and sipping on sake. Yoongi and Namjoon discuss an upcoming meeting with Seokjin, and you stare at the off-white tablecloth and attempt to gather your thoughts. 

You are reminded of your need to meet with Seokjin. But when would be a good time? How soon would you be able to get out of the mansion?

Each time you reach with your left hand and the diamond glitters in the overhead light, you feel a tinge of sadness. It nearly makes you want to reconsider, but you remind yourself that even if, by some miracle, you and Yoongi and Namjoon are meant to make any of this work out, it needs to be on your terms, after you have had a chance to breathe. 

You consider all the places Seokjin might send you. After all, Busan seems like too much of a gamble. Yoongi and the girls managed to reach an agreement of sorts—but what if sending you there starts an all-out war?

And if your ex truly is suddenly back in the picture—

"Well, well," a man's voice cuts through the conversation between Yoongi and Namjoon and interrupts your thoughts. "What have we here?"

The familiarity of this voice causes an icy chill to cover you. Somehow simultaneously bright and deep, with an accented lilt—it is a voice you heard for years. Still, your mind struggles to reconcile the situation, despite already conspiring over the thought that he might be here tonight. 

Your eyes trail up, confirming that the man standing before the table is, indeed, your ex. Christian looks…different. To put it lightly.

The last time you saw him, his style was kind of basic and not very exciting. He liked light-colored button-ups and ripped jeans, sneakers, and simple, casual clothing, sticking mainly to earth tones. And his dark hair was always trimmed and styled neatly.

But now Christian stands before you with his hair grown, falling over his eyes. He has black eyeshadow covering the entire lid and under each eye, with hints of red glowing from the edges, all smudged together like messy bruises. Little black crosses are drawn on his cheeks, and his lips are blotted with dark, messy red. 

A red button-up shirt and black tie accentuate a black suit with silver pinstripes. The knot of his tie is encased in a gold cover with stars on the front and spikes coming from the sides, and his hands are in black mesh gloves. 

Most curious of all, he is not cowering and afraid. He stands tall and assured, like a completely different person. 

Behind him are four men, all around his height, wearing crisp black suits with white button-up shirts underneath. Covering their heads are black balaclavas that show only their eyes and lips, and their hands are clad in black leather.

"Ah, I see the circus is in town," Yoongi chides with a snarl, sitting up tall. 

Nervous, you look between Yoongi and Namjoon, then back at Christian, who glares down at you with a smirk. 

"Fellas," Christian says, looking at Namjoon before rolling his eyes to glance at Yoongi. "I could not have planned this better if I tried. What are the odds?"

"And was that you in my private room?" Yoongi asks.

Christian's smirk widens into a grin.  

Yoongi sighs, then scoots forward, pushing the plates of food that rest just in front of him to the side. He sits up even higher and plants his elbows on the table, waving his hands slowly as he speaks. "You can see that we are busy, so please just tell me what you want."

Christian's eyes drop to the table as he turns to one of the men behind him and grabs onto a black briefcase. Fear spikes as you imagine a number of terrible things that could happen while he sets it on the edge of the table and opens it. You even notice from the corner of your eye as Namjoon's hand begins to reach behind his back to where you assume he has a handgun stashed. 

But when Christian spins the case, it contains stacks of notes, neatly organized in rows and columns with colorful rubber bands. His eyes lift to you, and he smiles for a split moment. 

Then he says, "I've come to pay off my debt," and his face turns stone-cold serious. 

At this, you scoff. To your right, Yoongi begins to laugh, and to your left, Namjoon scoots forward, sitting up straight. Christian hardly blinks. 

"It's all there," Christian drawls slowly, staring daggers into Yoongi. "I even added some interest."

You turn to Yoongi in time to see him roll his eyes. His hair is tucked behind his ears, and his glare is just as piercing as that of his adversary. 

"You did not really think she would just go back to you, did you?" he asks. 

"You don't really think I'm asking, do you?" Christian responds.

At this, you click your tongue against your teeth. "Excuse me?"

Christian leans with his fists against the table, somewhat leveling his eyes with yours despite looming much taller. "I know these thugs likely gaslit you into thinking that their exorbitant amounts of money were a replacement for love. I bet they stockholm-syndrome'd you real good after kidnapping you last spring. But with therapy and different lifestyle choices, you can return to the woman you were before all of that happened to you."

This infuriates you. For one thing, how dare this man show up out of nowhere and so grossly define a relationship that has grown over months and become something that has made you actually believe in love. 

For another thing, how fucking dare he not be entirely wrong. 

It occurs to you that this could be your way out. But going back into Christian's arms does not feel like the correct choice. You were unhappy in that relationship and coasting along before Yoongi and his men swept you away, so to speak. 

Sure, you allowed him to take you out to nice restaurants and buy every little designer thing the two of you desired. But that just makes that relationship as loveless and empty as he is trying to accuse your current relationship of being. 

Not to mention, this man who stands before you is not your ex-boyfriend, as you knew him. He looks and carries himself in a way that is almost unrecognizable.

"Don't you fucking dare," you say almost under your breath. 

Christian does not break eye contact, and you hate the way sadness yanks at his expression in a soft, familiar way. 

"Come on, baby," he pleads. "You don't have to pretend to be happy anymore. I saw how uncomfortable you looked at your birthday party. And when you disappeared for a long time and came back all pale and zoned out…something was clearly wrong. We can get you the help you need."

Anxiety and frustration spikes. You almost feel ashamed when you ask, "You were there?"

It is eerie the way Christian regards you so calmly. Gone is the nervous man who dragged you along hotel hallways trying to escape. However, the way he looks at you has only changed into something sweeter. It is as if he truly has continued to love you in your absence. 

"Look, whatever you've been through," Christian continues, eyebrows knit and pleading, "you don't have to tell me. I won't ask questions. Let me just…get you out of here. Please."

Yoongi sighs and drops his chin onto his hands. When you turn to him, you watch him shrug, lift a brow to you, and say, "You know that you are free to go if that is the life you want. Nobody is shackling you here."

And although you understand what Yoongi is doing—although you want more than anything to run far away—the way in which Yoongi appears so bored and unconcerned only causes your anger to grow.

Your jaw twitches to the side, and you run the tip of your tongue between your teeth, feeling every groove of bone. This should be an easy choice, but you feel paralyzed by indecision.

With a sigh, you blink Christian into focus. He looks so hopeful, it nearly tugs at your heartstrings. Nearly.

"You can see that we are eating, Christian," you insist. "Please don't force us to call security."

Christian scoffs and stands up straight. The men behind him are stiff as boards. 

"You're causing a scene," you continue, voice flat and insincere. "I don't like to think that the other guests are uncomfortable with this display. We can discuss this in a more private setting."

Something like hope flashes in Christian's eyes, and you hate the way it makes your tummy swoop. His mesh-gloved hands fidget before he shoves them into the pockets of his pinstripe slacks. 

"Can I have your number?" he asks, voice lilted with excitement.

Your voice remains flat. "No. I can find you."

With a confused twitch of his features, Christian mutters, "B-but…how?"

"Make it easy for me," you respond with a shrug.

After all, you know Christian's name, what usernames he has used online, and so many other intimate details. If you really did want to find him, you easily could.

"Alright," Christian says, nodding. He takes a step back, causing the small group of men to do the same.

"Take the money," you say, watching him intently, unwilling to break eye contact in a show of dominance. "We'll settle this matter privately."

Christian nods, reaches for the briefcase, and snaps the clasps closed. "I hope to hear from you soon," he says, gaze lingering before he turns to walk off.

As you watch the small group of men clad in all black disappear through the front entrance of the restaurant, your mind struggles to comprehend anything that has just occurred. 

What are the odds that Christian just so happened to be at this restaurant? There is no way it could be a coincidence. 

A warm hand rubs over the small of your back, and you flinch, muttering, "Fuck," under your breath. Namjoon sits forward and continues to eat, and with one hand caressing you, Yoongi does the same. 

"My appetite is ruined," you state plainly, eyes on the front door. You half expect your ex to come walking back in to continue to plead for you to leave with him. 

Yoongi hums and Namjoon is silent, save for chewing. You feel like you are going insane.

How is it that Christian has managed to keep tabs on you? What was he doing at your birthday party? You rack your mind trying to place him there—could you have run into him? Would you have known? What if he was one of the gold-clad workers hiding in plain sight, watching your every move? 

What if he has been lurking even longer, watching you at Paradise? At House of Cards? How much has he seen?

"I'm shocked he managed to come up with the cash," Namjoon finally mutters as he fills everyone's glass with sake.

Without waiting for the others, you pick up your small glass and shoot the liquid back. Then you set the glass down, reach for your water, and take a nice big gulp. The water is cold and you feel it work its way down into your body, causing a chill to run along your spine. 

"Should have castrated him like I promised," Yoongi jokes dryly. 

Your stomach churns, made worse by how nobody seems all that concerned about how you must be feeling. Neither of them brings up the fact that you promised to look him up, even as a means to pick on you.

"How did he get into my party?" you ask, voice as flat as it had been before. 

"Maybe he's managed to weasel his way back onto one of the teams," Namjoon responds with a full mouth.

"Would have had to have been after Jeongguk stepped down," Yoongi adds. "Unless he has one of the hospitality positions."

"Maybe he works at the hotel," Namjoon says.

You sigh, fed up with this conversation. 

"Did you not keep tabs on him?" you ask, turning to Yoongi with an accusatory glare. If this is anyone's fault, it has to be his. 

Yoongi blinks, then shrugs. "People go off the map all the time. He could have changed his name, for all we know. Maybe he uses a Korean name to get work."

You hum and sit back, slouched uncomfortably against the booth. Yoongi removes his hand from your back and continues to eat, using his newly free hand to lift his small glass of sake to his lips.

There is a chance Christian goes by the name Barom. It is a name only his mother calls him on occasion, but you would not put it past him to use it on identification cards, especially as a means to slip under the radar. 

That could explain his disappearing act, if there ever was one. But Yoongi's team should have noticed. Or, perhaps, Seokjin already has. In fact, you become convinced that Seokjin must know something. It is the only circumstance that makes sense. 

Seokjin must have overheard Yoongi and Namjoon discussing coming here tonight and he tipped Christian off. Maybe he thinks this is a good way for you to make a break for it. Maybe it is all a setup and Christian no longer wants anything to do with you but he is playing some part you do not fully understand.

But if that is the case, why wouldn't Seokjin tell you? 

You sit in silence for the rest of the meal, refusing more food and drink with a wave of your hand and a shake of your head. Namjoon goes ahead to retrieve your car from the valet attendant, and Yoongi pulls the hostess aside to inquire more about Christian's appearance while you stand near the front door, scowling out into the evening. 

The moment Namjoon slips behind the wheel of your car, you shove the restaurant door open and stomp up to the back door with a huff, opting not to respond when Namjoon looks back at you in the rearview mirror and asks, "Do you want to talk about anything?"

Yoongi gets into the passenger seat, mutters, "She was just as stumped as we were," and with that, the three of you are off. 

You pull your phone from your pocket and open instagram, type the username ChristianYu, and turn up with nothing. After a pause, you consider he may be using his Korean name, so you search for BaromYu and find him. Although he has not posted a lot since the last time you visited his account months and months ago, all of his posts show a transition from the man you knew to the man you met today. 

In his photos, he is shirtless more often than not, showing off his many new tattoos and accessories. And in the comments, people fawn over him, writing embarrassingly lewd confessions and using a lot of tongue and water drop emoji. 

Nothing hints at what he could be doing for work, but his follower count has exploded—he is quite the popular man. He never posts his location, nor does he make vague references to any kind of job in any of his posts or responses, and nobody seems to care about much but his face and body.

The only thing that may pass as a hint of any sort is the fact that some commenters call him Mister Insanity. But what that could possibly mean, you have no idea. He did seem to have a small group of goons, but it is hard to imagine him as the leader of anything. 

Namjoon pulls into the driveway, and you turn off your phone screen. You are not going to rest until you speak to Seokjin, and you hope that he is home at this hour. 

You grab the gift bag that has Jeongguk's dick dildo in it from where it had been left behind the passenger seat, and then get out of the car, shoving the bag into Yoongi's hands. 

"Take this inside," you say, turning toward the dark path that connects the properties. "I need to talk to Seokjin."

"Seokjin?" Yoongi asks. "He might not be free at this hour."

"I'll go find out," you insist, turning away before Yoongi or Namjoon can stop you. To your surprise, neither of them tries to follow behind. 

Once you are on the path that leads between driveways, you unlock your phone and search for a name you have never called before, and then you call him. It rings and rings, taunting you with its robotic tone before going to voicemail. This is Seokjin. Leave a message. You hang up.

Each footfall stomps harder than the last as you march on, feeling small amongst the tall shadows. The cooling night air sends a chill through you—all the more reason to walk even faster. 

There is a light on in one of the second-floor windows, and you storm up to the front door and press frantically on the doorbell. Of course, the door is reinforced enough that even if someone were to be running to the door on the other side, you would have no way of hearing it. 

However, you do not take Seokjin for being the type to run. 

Still, you feel impatient, and you take to pounding your fist against the door, feeling the impact of armored wood against the side of your hand, hard and visceral—stinging. When the door finally flies open, you pay no mind to the gun pointed at your forehead, fist still in the air. 

Seokjin stands shirtless in a pair of black silk pants, and the moment he recognizes you, he sighs and drops the gun to his side, muttering, "Good fucking god."

"We need to talk," you insist, stepping through the threshold despite not being invited to do so.

"I was in the middle of something," Seokjin says, stepping aside. 

You kick out of your shoes as he closes the door calmly behind you, and you allow yourself a brief moment to take in his appearance—hair disheveled, body covered in sweat. Seokjin turns and lifts a hand, silently encouraging you to enter further into the home, and you notice scratch marks along his arms and a sliver of his back—deep pink and raised. 

"So you were," you respond. 

Seokjin sighs and walks toward his staircase, showing off even more long, deep scratch marks. "Give me a moment; I need to tend to something. Help yourself to a drink if you would like."

You walk through the living room and turn the corner to the conjoined dining area and kitchen. Seokjin and Hoseok keep a tidy home, and you marvel at the rich woods and antique furnishings. Their refrigerator is a massive black appliance, and you pull the rightmost door open and notice a healthy store of plastic food containers, fresh fruits and vegetables, and bottles of soju.

Helping yourself to a bottle of clear, unflavored soju, you close the fridge door and crack the lid open, forgoing a glass. One sip is cold enough to send a shiver through you, and you gulp more, eager to calm your nerves before remembering once more that Taehyung has advised you against drinking. 

Footsteps retreat down the stairs, and you find Seokjin pulling a black t-shirt over his head. Seeing him dressed down is somewhat surprising, and although you were too on edge to take note of his broad, muscular build moments ago, you notice him now. 

The suits and dress shirts Seokjin wears cover a lot. Although he is leaner than Namjoon, his arms are defined, flexing as he adjusts his garment and reaches into his silk pants pocket to pull out his phone. 

"Is this about Barom?" Seokjin asks, fixing you with a gaze that gives away absolutely nothing. 

You take another gulp of soju, then let both arms hang at your sides, limp and defeated. "So you did put him up to it?"

"Oh?" Seokjin asks, raising an eyebrow. "You mean to say you detected my involvement?"

"I had a hunch," you mutter, frustrated.

"I knew you were smart enough to catch on," Seokjin says as he crosses his arms over his chest, shoulders and biceps flexing. He watches you with just as blank of an expression, not giving you a chance to respond before saying, "He works for me now."

You wish you were surprised. "Doing what?"

Seokjin cracks a smirk. "Whatever I need him to."

You sigh and take another drink of the soju, letting it settle on your tongue. When Seokjin gives you no further information, you raise your own fucking eyebrows—two can play at this game. 

"Seokjin, why did my ex show up to dinner with a briefcase of cash offering to buy my freedom?"

"Did he?" Seokjin asks, voice elated and surprised. 

You roll your eyes. "I know you put him up to it. Drop the act."

"You are far more clever than any of these men give you credit for," Seokjin says. "But not me. I never doubted you."

You sigh, feeling impatient. "Seokjin—"

"Did seeing your ex make you want to run away?" Seokjin asks. 

You hate to admit that the answer is yes, and you hum and nod just once. 

"So?" he asks. "Will you?"

"Taehyung says I need a vacation," you respond stubbornly. 

"Well, have you begun to pack a bag? I hear Busan is very chilly this time of year, so you will want to be sure to include some heavy clothes."

"No," you mutter. "I have been busy tending to other matters." Seokjin's mouth opens and he gives you a curious gaze, but you cut him off, adding, "And Yoongi is so on edge, I'm not sure leaving right now would be wise."

Seokjin hums. "I think he's especially on edge today because he proposed to you last night and you had a panic attack."

His flat, matter-of-fact tone makes you laugh. It rocks through your chest before you can stop yourself, and you shake your head, allowing the laughter to fall. 

"What does he fucking expect?" you mutter. "He knows how miserable I am in his mansion. How was I supposed to react to a proposal? If he has any concern about the way I feel, he should not have done something like that."

"Yes, I agree," Seokjin responds as he approaches and reaches for the bottle of soju. You lift your arm to hand it to him. 

The cap is still cradled in your opposite hand, and you turn and find an antique side table made from some dark, polished wood to set it down onto. When you return to face Seokjin, he holds the bottle toward you, which you take. 

"Yoongi took the more recent attacks much more personally than usual," he says with a sigh. 

You lift the bottle to your lips, mutter, "Go on," and take a drink. 

"He doesn't care for the way the girls acted, and the harm that their attacks have caused seems to have pushed him over the edge. Ordinarily, Yoongi would have sent a swarm of men to apprehend or even kill them for what they have done, but I have a feeling he held back because you are here, now."

"I'm holding him back?" you ask, feeling a misplaced tinge of guilt. After all, why should you care? 

Finally, Seokjin cracks just a hint of a smile, and you hate the way it makes you feel. You know that he knows far more than he says. 

"Or, perhaps I'm misreading the situation," Seokjin responds, smile growing. "I was simply picking your brain…friendly banter about what I assume you think is going on, and nothing more."

Unbelievable.

"Okay," you respond, voice trembling from frustration. "Then what is going on?"

"Yoongi gifted Serendipity to Ryujin's little hoard of women, as a peace offering to get them to back off. You are aware of this, yes?"

You stare blankly at Seokjin and take in his words, then mutter, "Yes."

"Seems Ryujin needed someone to help her look after the place, so I set her up with some men. Barom being one of them. I had plans to send him to another port city to work at my newest casino, but he really thrives in the club atmosphere. You should see him—under the right conditions, he can be a very loyal, hard worker." Seokjin says.

You heavy-blink, taking everything in.

Seokjin continues. "Listen, I would have warned you about his appearance, but I felt like your response to seeing him should be genuine. Yoongi may be distracted these days, but if your reaction was in any way staged, Namjoon would have caught on in an instant."

Although it makes sense, it does nothing to assuage your frustration. With a sigh, you mutter, "Figures."

"Pack a bag sooner than later," Seokjin says through a sigh of his own. "Text me when you are ready, and I will do my best to come quickly, but if I happen to be in the middle of a task, you will need to exhibit a little more…" Seokjin lifts his eyebrows, cracking a smile, "...patience."

You roll your eyes and nod, accepting his terms. Seokjin reaches for the bottle, and you hand it over, muttering, "You can finish it."

"Need me to walk you back?" Seokjin offers.

As much as you would like to have some company, you shake your head. "Thanks, anyway."

You feel somewhat dazed as you make your way back to the door and slip into your sneakers. Seokjin having a hand in Christian's presence leaves a sour taste in your mouth, despite you expecting it to be the case, and you wonder how trustworthy of an employee he is to Yoongi if he is pulling so many strings behind the scenes. 

A thought occurs, tickling at the back of your mind, and you turn, finding Seokjin standing right where you left him, watching you.

"Did Hyunjin and his family really die?" you ask. 

Seokjin stares at you unblinking. Then he lifts the bottle to his lips and mutters, "They're safe in America."

Anger rises, and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath in through your nose. The fact that Hyunjin's faked death may have aided in pushing Yoongi into a heroin relapse is absolutely infuriating. What would have happened if Yoongi overdosed in that hotel in Paris?

You squint at Seokjin, thinking of the many ways to verbally rip him to shreds. But you need to keep him on your good side, at least for the time being, so you put away your teeth. 

"Seems we both have something we do not want him to know about," you say, holding your chin up as if challenging him. 

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, mouth tugging into a smile as he says, "Seems we do."

You have no more to say, and you storm toward the door, kicking into your shoes. Seokjin says nothing as you leave, and for that, you are thankful. You yank on the door hard enough to make it rattle shut, then storm off into the night.

Tears stream down your cheeks in fat, hot streaks as you return to the mansion. You are not sad, but you just feel an overflow of emotion that seems to only come out in the form of crying and trembling. Seokjin makes you so fucking angry, yet you need him in order to make your escape—which you do your best not to dwell on, at the present moment. 

Although you are glad to see your men standing on the front stoop smoking a joint and saving you the trouble of asking to be let inside, you are not eager to explain what is the matter. You are not sure you are a convincing actor with a straight face, much less in this state.

You attempt to sneak past them before either of them can see you crying, but Namjoon is quick to reach for your hand and tug you close. You bury your face against his chest and sigh, trying to come up with what to say to excuse your crying.

"Sweetheart?" he asks, causing your emotions to boil over.

"Everything is too much," you mutter, unsure what else to say. "I might go to bed early."

Namjoon wraps his arms around your shoulders and hugs you tight. More tears fall, and you are glad when he does not address them. Instead, he kisses you on the top of the head and asks, "Want to sit down and have some water?"

With a nod, you take a step back and allow yourself to be led into the mansion. You kick out of your shoes as Namjoon does, hobbling from side to side with his arm slung over your shoulder. Then he guides you over to the large blue sofa, which you sit against and curl into a ball.

"I need a vacation," you groan into the soft fabric, squeezing your eyes closed.

"Is that what you went to talk to Seokjin about?" Namjoon asks. 

You groan and nod, curling further in on yourself. More tears pool in your eyes and you feel the urge to sob, but your body does not have the energy to exert. 

This is the final straw. The dizzy spells are too numerous, and seeing your ex has stirred up so many shitty, complicated feelings. You need a chance to breathe.

"Here, darling, drink this."

A warm hand gently tugs at your shoulder, and you comply, rotating and sliding your feet to the floor. Yoongi is perched on the edge of the couch, holding a large cup of water. You stretch your legs and reach for the cup.

The water is tepid, and it feels nice. Yoongi must think you are having another dizzy spell, and he reaches for your forehead, pressing his fingers to the skin. 

"The sake must have been too much," he says.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

"It's not just that," you mutter. "It's everything. I need to get away for a bit."

Yoongi nods in understanding, looking to Namjoon and then to you, asking, "Is it because of Christian?"

"He is certainly a straw that is breaking my back," you admit.

Yoongi frowns, but he appears comfortable with your choice. "Where would you go?"

"Somewhere calm," you say with a shrug. "By the sea, perhaps."

"I could oversee a trip," Namjoon recommends. "Somewhere else, entirely."

You do not have the heart to tell Namjoon that you would rather go alone, so instead, you nod and mutter, "Maybe."

There is knocking on the door, and you look up expectantly. Before either of the men can so much as move, the knob turns, and Taehyung walks in.

"Guess they'll let just anyone in here," you tease weakly as Taehyung kicks off a pair of loafers with the heels bent forward and crosses the room in quick, elongated steps. 

Taehyung kneels in front of you and digs into the pocket of his slacks, producing a little paper box. "I hope you don't mind, I have come to talk to you about medication. The hyungs said you would be home."

You shrug and eye up the white box, muttering, "I don't mind."

"This medication treats high blood pressure, and it may help with what ails you. Are you comfortable with trying something new?"

"Sure." 

Yoongi takes your glass of water as Taehyung hands over the box, and you clench the fragile paper square while he opens the small flap on the top, producing a tiny matte white compostable packet with a lump in the center where the pill is. 

"Take this once every evening, for now. We can track how it works, if at all, and go from there." Taehyung rips open the packet and prises one of your hands off the box, then he drops a round, white pill into your palm. "Try to avoid taking burupen, if possible. And, depending on which birth control you use, we may need to increase the dosage."

This information is overwhelming, but you nod. Once you do run away, the two of you will no longer be able to sort any of this out, so for now, you simply agree in order to appease him. 

Sadness quakes through you as you toss the bitter pill into your mouth and take a large gulp of water, shoving the cup back into Yoongi's waiting hands. You even struggle to swallow, feeling the urge to cry. 

Taehyung has been so kind to you. You wish you could adequately express your gratitude to him before you go. You wonder if you will ever see him again.

"Thank you," you mutter. Blinking back tears. "For everything."

Taehyung grins. "No need to thank me. It is my job to care for you." He finishes his sentence with a wink, causing you to sneer. Through laughter, he adds, "I also do so because I like you."

You close your eyes and sigh, doing your best to smile as you attempt to sort your thoughts. You need to pack a suitcase, but the prospect of making that sort of plan is overwhelming. You wish everyone would leave.

"I think I may go lay down," you say, opening your eyes to find Yoongi and Namjoon regarding you with soft, understanding frowns. You add, "In my room," causing their frowns to deepen. "I think I just need some alone time. But I'll come join you two if I get lonely."

Yoongi scoots beside you and wraps an arm around your waist. His musk is calming and familiar, tugging at your heart. 

"Sounds good, darling," he says as he leans in and places a soft, lingering kiss on your temple. "You know where to find us."

Every ounce of you pulls to Yoongi, yearning to touch him. You want to embrace and kiss and undress him so badly. But you know that if you fall into bed with him and Namjoon once more, you will not have the heart to go. And one simple kiss could ruin everything. 

As you stand, Yoongi slides his arm away. Namjoon steps close and leans in for a kiss. For a split second, you consider turning your lips away, but Namjoon wraps his arms around you, pinning your arms to your side as your hands continue to hold the small paper pill box between your chests. 

"I love you," he mutters as his lips press softly against yours. 

You have to hold back the urge to sob, swallowing hard. "I lo—" You clear your throat. "I love you, too."

As Namjoon backs away, he watches you with a hint of something indiscernible in his eyes. You almost wish he would confront you rather than allow you to slip away. Could he possibly know anything? Or are you just being paranoid?

With a bow of your head, you walk past Namjoon, to the stairwell. You take each step slowly, feeling the cold marble beneath your feet. At the thought of how much you hated this garish mansion the first day you arrived—impressed by its ridiculousness but fettered like a prisoner—you snicker, and you feel a tinge of sadness.

So much has changed, and, yet, so much of who you are feels the same. 

At the top of the stairs, you shuffle quickly into your room and close the door. You hurry to the closet and flick on the light, relieved to see a large black suitcase sitting in the back, to the left of the tall mirror. 

It is hard to remember what you came into the mansion with, but you do your best to pack only your own items and leave the rest behind. You do not deserve the designer clothing and jewelry they have given you. How can you bear to wear any of it, knowing the pain you will inevitably cause these men?

The process happens as you somewhat dissociate your feelings from the task. You do your best not to think about where anything came from—under which circumstances you received a gift as you leave it where it is. 

In fact, you do your best to refrain from thinking at all, moving from room to room, gathering your things. Sun dresses, leggings, and a couple pairs of denim jeans fill the suitcase, along with several pairs of shoes, toiletries, cardboard pill boxes, and your sex toys. 

Some of what you leave behind is designer clothing Christian bought you, but you are not concerned. You do not want to continue being the kind of person who is swept up in luxury. You never needed any of it.

Amongst the many miscellaneous items you find in the bedroom is a notebook and pen pouch nestled on the bookshelf. Without giving it any thought, you begin to pen a letter to Namjoon–because he has always been the best at talking through difficult times—and then to Yoongi, and then to the both of them, filling a single page, which you do your best not to let any wayward tears drip onto when you realize you have begun to cry. 

In this letter, you pour your heart out, you apologize for having to leave, and then you end on a high note, telling yourself that it may be possible that you could one day see them again, despite knowing deep down that this is likely not the truth. 

You fold the letter into a neat rectangle and walk with it to the closet, placing it in the center of the island and shutting off the closet light for the last time, then you stand in the center of the bedroom and look around, making sure you have everything. 

Once the entire task is as complete as you can fathom it being, you return to the bed and sit on the edge. You consider waiting an hour or two before messaging Seokjin, hoping it may give the guys a chance to wind down and sleep, but you find you are too antsy.

You: I have packed a bag. I am not sure what I want to come from telling you this information except to say that I am ready whenever the time is right.

Your thumb hovers and shakes and it takes you several seconds to hit send. You are shocked when three little dots pop up mere seconds later. 

Seokjin: Tonight? Or sometime in the next few days?

Anxiety swells in your tummy, and you sigh.

You: Might be best to just rip off the bandage, so to speak.

Seokjin: I agree. In terms of timing, I can have a plane ready in two hours, but I know damn well the men will not be asleep by then. We have a meeting planned at 8 in the morning, which means they will likely be awake between 6 and 7, so 4 is going to be our sweet spot. Can you stay awake?

Although you feel exhausted, you are certain that this may be your only chance.

You: I can stay awake.

Seokjin: Also, your suitcase…can you get it down the stairs? Are you aware of the basement exit?

You: I should be able to handle it. And yes, I am aware. 

Seokjin: I recommend trying to sneak down as early as 3. If you need some kind of a diversion, I can do my best to come up with something.

You: Sounds good. Thank you.

Seokjin: Thank me when we're on the tarmac.

With just under five hours to spare, you sit and stare at the yellow comforter on the bed. Soon, you will be sleeping under a different comforter on someone else's bed. 

At this thought, you begin to spiral. You think of all the beds you have slept in, attempting to figure out whether any of them have ever been yours. 

No, you think. Not really.

The weight of discovering another unfamiliar room and attempting to make it your home feels crushing. You wish that you could stay in the place you have felt most settled, but you know in your heart that this place has also caused you the most anguish. 

You are not a mafia wife. You do not want to be one. 

A soft knock causes you to gasp and flinch, and you place your cell phone facedown at your side. After a beat, you realize that it is Namjoon on the other side, as he tends to wait to be invited to come in.

"Yes?" you ask softly, rubbing at your eyes with your fists in order to appear tired.

The door cracks open, followed by Namjoon's tuft of dark hair and a sad smile. He hovers in the liminal space between out there and in here, and the mere presence of him makes you relax a little.

"I was wondering if perhaps a nice warm bath would make you feel better," he says, brows downturned as if he is expecting you to say no. 

But how could you say no? 

This room is cold and lonely, and Namjoon is offering you warmth. Perhaps it is selfish to take this one last moment of comfort, but if there is anything you want to remember him by, it is his ability to ease your weary soul.

"A warm bath sounds perfect," you say. His smile widens, and in turn, so does yours.

"Good," he says, standing straight and stepping halfway into the room. Namjoon wears nothing but tight dark blue briefs, and the sight of his muscular, tattooed body makes your mouth begin to water. He adds, "I've already begun drawing the bath," snapping your wandering gaze from his thighs back to his grinning face.

You leave your phone behind and slide from the mattress, bare feet meeting soft rug. Namjoon holds his hand out and you reach for it, giggling as he tugs you somewhat roughly, forcing you to stumble into him. 

"I've missed you today," he groans as he bends and captures your lips, filling you with excitement. 

"I've missed you, too," you mutter as your mouth falls open for his tongue to explore. 

Namjoon teases, dancing his tongue over yours just enough to make you moan, then retracting it to say, "You sure Gguk didn't wear you out?"

You can hardly hold back the grin that overtakes your face, and you raise your eyebrows, leaning your head back enough to look him in the eyes as you ask, "Awe, is my Joonbug jealous?"

Namjoon scoffs and rolls his eyes, then he turns toward the master bedroom, yanking on your hand to make you follow along. You do your best not to dwell on how limited your time is in the mansion now that you and Seokjin have a plan. 

As you shuffle along behind Namjoon, half-running to keep up with his quick pace, you hear the sound of the jacuzzi tub. The bedroom is empty of Yoongi, and you are not surprised when you are yanked into the ensuite and find him reclining in the tub with the bubbling water sloshing over his chest. 

Namjoon lets go of your hand and peels out of his briefs, and you struggle to resist reaching out to give his perky buttcheeks a squeeze. You shed the hoodie and undershirt in one swift motion, and your leggings and underwear in another, then prance over to the tub, where Namjoon is slowly getting in on Yoongi's right. 

Yoongi lifts and turns his head, opening his eyes and cracking a smile as you approach the tub on his left, across from Namjoon. And although you attempt to take in all of his appearance, your gaze goes straight to the slash that runs through Yoongi's eye, still as red and angry as ever—evidence of your carelessness.

"Ah, her highness joins us," he announces before closing his eyes and returning his head to the rested position against the edge of the tub. The sound of the faucet and sloshing water is almost enough to conceal Yoongi's low tones, but somehow you make out each muttered syllable perfectly. 

"Namjoon does tend to be quite persuasive," you respond with a smile, lifting your gaze to Namjoon, whose eyes intently rove your naked body as you step one foot into the tub and then the other, lowering slowly to acclimate to the heat. 

Yoongi cracks a knowing smile—a sharp little thing that verges on a smirk—and he chides with a pouty, "Ah, so it was only the promise of Namjoon that brought you in here, tonight?"

Rather than humor him with words, you walk to Yoongi and straddle his lap, slinging your arms around his neck before he has a chance to open his eyes. Two large hands touch your lower back as Yoongi smiles up at you.

"Don't be ridiculous," you mutter as you lean in for a kiss, swiftly stealing his ability to argue.

Despite knowing you should not straddle Yoongi and invite a world of possibilities that will only make the act of leaving more difficult, you find it impossible to stop yourself. Yoongi pulls you close, groaning past your lips. As you settle onto his lap, breasts buoyant and pressed against his chest, you decide to try and forget about your plan. At least for a few hours.

"So much for a relaxing bath," Yoongi teases, lips grazing against yours. 

You smile coyly, eyes watching his mouth—your faces too close to see anything else. "What do you mean?"

Yoongi's hands, which rub over your lower back and firmly grab your ass, yank and squeeze, causing your tummy to meet with a growing erection. You gasp despite expecting as much, and chuckle. 

"We don't have to—" you begin, ready to assure Yoongi that you are more than happy to stay in the tub for as long as he would like.

"Oh, but we do," he insists as he begins to push you off his lap and stand. 

Namjoon chuckles, and you turn to him, still in a somewhat crouched position, chest-high in the water. You lift an eyebrow in a silent question. 

"The tub never finished filling," Namjoon says, cocking his head to the side, to where the tap continues to flow across from where Yoongi was sitting. 

You begin to laugh, as well. Yoongi, however, has a sense of urgency, toweling himself off with one hand while he reaches into the water to take you by the arm and yank. You are surprised, but comply, standing and walking to the edge of the tub to step out onto a soft mat, water pouring from your limbs. 

Yoongi shoves his damp towel into your arms, and when you stand dumbfounded for a second too long, he sighs, takes it from you, and begins to towel you dry in the most rushed, haphazard way possible before discarding it to the floor. He takes you by the hand and pulls you toward the bed, and you hear the tub get shut off and the sound of water pouring from Namjoon as he stands up and exits, as well. 

Rather than urge you onto the bed, Yoongi simply steps behind you, shoves you forward so that you are draped over the edge of it, and drops to his knees. You open your mouth to pick fun at his impatience, but his palms spread your ass, and his mouth closes over your cunt, lips and tongue making sloppy work as you widen your stance and bend over a little more.

You moan and shudder as pleasure works through you, more and more each time Yoongi's lips and tongue become increasingly precise in their movements over your clit. You instantly relax, and, as you feared, begin to forget all about why you plan to leave. 

Yoongi abruptly stops, smacks your ass, and tells you to get up onto the bed, on your hands and knees. You do as you are told, and Yoongi also gets on the bed, positions the pillows so he can sit against them, and stretches his legs. He pats his thighs and says, "Come here."

As you crawl to Yoongi, eyes intent on his fist stroking his semi-hard cock, the bed dips behind you, and two hands firmly grab your hips before you can get too far. It is clear that your instruction is to suck Yoongi's cock while Namjoon eats you out, and as you lean forward to tease Yoongi with your tongue, Namjoon's mouth begins to devour your ass. 

It is dizzying the way the three of you fall into a tangled rhythm of pleasure. Dizzying the way you make Yoongi reach his first climax at the same time Namjoon makes you reach yours. 

Namjoon fingers you deeply, thumb on your clit while his lips and tongue work over your asshole, and you are shocked by the intensity of your orgasm like this—how the pleasure feels somehow different with the added stimulation. 

"One of these days, I want you to take both of our cocks at once," Namjoon groans against you while his teeth rake over the swell of your ass cheek. 

You have to hold back a laugh, curious what the hell must be in the water to make every man you fuck want to double-penetrate you. And although you think it would be funny to put Jeongguk's earlier suggestion on blast, you decide to keep it to yourself.

Namjoon yanks and tugs you until you are beside Yoongi on your back, with your legs spread wide. He fucks you hard and deep, and you muffle your screams against his shoulder as he leans forward and sucks on Yoongi's cock. 

It takes no time for another orgasm to crash over you, and you are painted in hot streaks of Namjoon's cum before the two men swap places, and Yoongi crawls between your legs. 

He leans close, tickling you with the tips of his dark, long hair as it brushes against your tummy and thighs while he laps up each drop of Namjoon's release like a good little dog. Then he sits high on his knees and wastes no time spearing you nice and deep. 

Namjoon kneels beside you and pulls your hands above your head, holding both of your wrists in one of his hands while the other lightly smacks and pinches the skin on your arms and chest, causing you to squeal and scream and chase two very intense orgasms. 

When Yoongi finishes, it is in Namjoon's mouth, and then the two of them mutter about taking a proper shower while you begin to drift in and out of sleep. 

You nearly doze off completely when the sound of a loud pop, followed by a bright light and a loud bang, startles you awake. Suddenly, you are far too aware of your surroundings, but you have no idea what time it is. 

In a panic, you sit up and yank the cold comforter you had been lying on top of until part of it covers your sweaty, naked body. There are more loud bangs and bright lights, and Namjoon is the first to point out that it is fireworks that are being shot off directly at the window, from the other side of the property's security gate. 

Yoongi storms over to the window, still nude, and pulls back the curtain a sliver. Namjoon leans forward and also peers out. 

"Looks like those goons from the restaurant," Namjoon says, causing your heart to pound. 

Is Christian behind whatever this strange display is? And if so, did Seokjin put him up to this?

"Mister Min, are you in there?" a voice booms over a speaker, and it sounds just like Christian—as expected. In a creepy, sing-song manner, he adds, "Come out and plaaayyy."

"Darling," Yoongi says, turning to you. "Do you know about the basement?"

You nod frantically and begin to move, inching toward the edge of the bed. Yoongi's cell phone rings on the bedside table opposite where you sit, and Yoongi rushes over and answers it simply by saying, "Seokjin."

There is a pause, and then Yoongi says, "Sounds good," and hangs up. Then he turns to Namjoon and says, "Seokjin and Hoseok are on their way." To you, he adds, "Seokjin will meet you in the basement. Get dressed and go quickly."

All at once, you throw the comforter to the side and begin making your way to the bathroom, where your clothing has been discarded, deciding that this is your getaway outfit since everything else is packed into a suitcase, and you are not going to leave in a rush wearing an evening gown. 

As you hop into your underwear and leggings, Namjoon appears, naked and with a frown on his face. He pulls you into a tight hug, kisses your forehead, and says, "This is not the way I wanted to see you off for that much needed trip. I will find you soon, alright?"

You nod, feeling tears well up, and you allow them to fall, suddenly so overwhelmed with the thought that you will likely not see Namjoon again. At least, not for a while. 

Namjoon thumbs tears from below your eyes and smiles sweetly before placing another kiss on your forehead. Behind him, Yoongi appears wearing a black sweater tucked into black joggers, and he pulls you into a hug that has you stumbling and crashing into him. 

"I'm so sorry," he says with his lips to your temple. "I know this must be scary, but we will take care of everything. Pack a bag if you can, but do not spend too long on it. We can send for more of your things once Seokjin helps you settle in somewhere."

Unable to form a coherent thought, you simply hum and nod, then allow Yoongi to break from the hug. "Hurry on," he says, smiling sadly as more fireworks and taunting words come from outside. 

You run through the dark mansion, startling each time another loud boom erupts. Despite knowing that the sounds are fireworks, you fear that whatever is happening right now could become more dangerous. 

Without turning your bedroom light on, you make your way quickly to the closet and grab the suitcase. Then you remember your cell phone, which was left on your bed. You pick it up and turn on the screen, expecting to find something from Seokjin telling you of whatever plan he may have formed before all of this kicked off, and you are surprised to find a text that simply says, "Be there in 3," which was sent exactly three minutes ago. 

You open the suitcase and grab a pair of sneakers, deciding that going to the front door for ones that have been left there is out of the question. As you zip the case back up, you hear footsteps running up the stairs and freeze, feeling fear and anxiety rush. 

"Cub," Seokjin's voice says in a whisper-yell, "are you ready?"

Without waiting for your response, he reaches and takes the suitcase by its handle and turns to run down the large staircase. You shove your feet into the black sneakers, which you will need to straighten out once you are in a vehicle, and then take one last glance at the dark room before following behind, attempting to make out the sounds of shouting coming from outside. 

Seokjin leads you down the hall, into the dining room, and through the open wall panel, which you close tightly behind you. The light has not been turned on, but your eyes are adjusted to the dark, and your heart pounds loudly and heavily as you grip onto the wooden railing and rush behind him, feet quietly pattering against carpet as you descend. 

Once you finally reach the bottom of the steps, where Seokjin waits, your thoughts begin to settle. A dim light is turned on, and as you look around at the abandoned recreation space, you begin to accept the fact that all of this is finally happening. 

A glance at your phone shows that it is just after one in the morning. Feeling frustration rise, you shove the device into a hoodie pocket and follow behind Seokjin, who continues through the space.

"So much for sticking to the plan," you grumble, head still spinning. 

It is shocking to you how the depths of the mansion seem to fully hide the sounds that are coming from outside. You walk hurriedly across the dim, carpeted basement, doing your best to keep up with Seokjin's long legs making quick strides.

"Oh, this is not my doing," he says with an amused laugh, head turning somewhat to the right. "It is lucky that his nonsense is loud enough to be heard across the property."

For some reason, you are inclined not to believe him. You mutter, "Sure," and keep your eyes ahead. 

"I mean it," Seokjin insists. "Although I have to admit, it is the perfect way to catch the loverboys off guard, this also poses somewhat of a threat. Taehyung and Jeongguk live deep enough onto the property that simply taking you to one of their homes for safe-keeping would have been a wise choice under normal circumstances. Hell, having you hole up at my place with all of Hoseok's weapons is the best choice."

Seokjin pauses at the end of the staircase, lifts your luggage, and says, "I am likely going to catch hell for removing you from the compound."

You think back to how Seokjin lied about Hyunjin's death, and about how much Jeongguk seems to mistrust him. How many secrets does Seokjin hold onto? How many lies does he spin to protect others? 

Namjoon and Yoongi seemed resolute in the fact that you would be leaving the mansion property entirely, but they likely expect to be informed of your whereabouts immediately. What will Seokjin tell them?

And then you remember the letter you wrote and realize how this must look. Under a normal disappearance, this could seem like simply running away, but forgetting to remove the letter before this escape could lead the two of them to think you and Christian really are in cahoots. 

Without a doubt, this whole scenario is not going to bode well with the others, even though they seemed to expect as much to happen as you said goodbye. Especially when hot heads like Yoongi and Jeongguk begin to speculate on all the what-ifs.

It is your hope that Namjoon will be able to remain the voice of reason, even if it is just short term. Once he reads your letter, he will realize that you are gone for good, and you worry that he will forget your earlier conversation about needing a vacation in lieu of forming some kind of conspiracy that the letter could point to. 

As you make your way up the stairs, your heart begins to pound. You know that once you get outside, the shrubs will provide some cover, but you are uncertain of how you will manage to get away with Christian and his goonies just out front. 

Exhaustion and adrenaline keep you from asking too many questions, and you focus on putting one foot in front of the other, trusting that Seokjin has a plan. 

Seokjin reaches the top of the stairs and opens the door to the outside world, and in an instant, you hear voices shouting and booming. Your heart pounds so hard you feel disoriented, and you trip over your own feet, struggling to force yourself to get any closer to the sounds. 

"The house is armored," Seokjin utters softly as he keeps your luggage in his hand and makes his way toward the end of the shrub, to where the secret door lies. "Don't worry so much about the others. Come."

You close the door to the mansion, pressing it firmly in place, and then step as lightly as you can toward Seokjin. Rather than open the shrub door that Taehyung previously brought you through all those days ago, which leads straight out into the driveway, Seokjin slowly reaches into the shrub on the left, and you watch as it swings open into the wooded area that connects the homes.

Seokjin turns to you and nods his chin, urging you silently to catch up, and you tiptoe quickly ahead toward the opening. You are surprised to discover a fully covered path, not of gravel, but of concrete, leading away from the mansion in the direction of Seokjin's home. 

"When I left to come here, I didn't see anyone near my gate," Seokjin informs softly, rushing with smaller steps, as if to stay at your pace. For this, you are grateful. "People tend not to notice our homes, which gives us a means to escape. Although it appears that Christian has been planning this little insurrection of his, I doubt he is prepared for us to slip away into the night."

A particularly loud bang causes you to trip over your own feet and for all the blood in your body to turn cold. You shrink in on yourself and duck your head instinctively. 

"Sounds like Hoseok has arrived," Seokjin says with a chipper tone. Then he adds, "It's just a flash grenade, cub. A warning shot, so to speak. Usually that is all it takes to scare lower level guys away."

You accept what Seokjin says, but worry pools in your tummy over the thought of anyone getting hurt. Even Christian, as much as you hate to admit it. You hope that the men are able to solve this matter without anyone becoming injured or worse. 

Although you tell yourself that this must be goodbye—that you must bid farewell to the mansion for good—you feel sick at the thought of never being able to see any of these men again. You hope desperately for everyone to stay alive.

The path opens up to Seokjin's property, and you notice a sleek black sports car on the driveway. Seokjin rushes forward, and as the trunk of the vehicle pops open, presumably from a key fob in his grasp, you begin to run toward the passenger door, relieved to find that it is unlocked, and slide into the seat. 

As soon as Seokjin is in the driver's seat with the door closed, he sighs, presses the engine button, and says, "I'm not sure if I should thank Barom or flay him alive."

Although there are so many thoughts running through your mind—so many questions that you feel desperate to answer—what you ask is, "Why do you call him Barom?"

Seokjin begins to drive without turning on his headlights, along the dark driveway, toward his gate. 

"That is the name he uses under my employ," he responds, looking to the right, to where the large truck sits empty of shouting men, all of whom are either pressed against the gate to the mansion or have wiggled their way inside. "I suppose I have grown accustomed to it."

Good enough, you decide, disinterested in pushing the issue any further. The two of you set off into the night, in the opposite direction of the truck and its bright headlights, and you let out a breath of relief when you realize it is not following you. 

Once the road curves and dips, Seokjin turns on his headlights, illuminating the world ahead. Anxiously, you stare into the side-view mirror, waiting for headlights to appear and advance, but they never do. 

"Breathe," Seokjin says calmly as he reaches to turn on the radio. You are surprised to hear upbeat pop music coming from the speakers, and even more surprised when Seokjin does not change it. "We appear to be out of the woods—literally and figuratively—and the guys are more than capable of handling those idiots on their own."

You sigh, unable to be as optimistic, but unwilling to argue. Aside from the pop music accompanied by your pounding heart, the rest of the drive is quiet. 

Seokjin hums to a tune from time to time, and you stare ahead as the tree line becomes spotted more and more brightly with city lights. You even allow your eyes to close, feeling exhausted from such a long day, and when you open them, the car is driving onto a strip of tarmac, toward a private airplane. 

"Let me see your phone," Seokjin says, and without thinking, you hand it over. 

Rather than explain himself, he simply pockets your device and hands you a different one, then he gets out of the car and closes the door behind him. You sit still, feeling the weight of the new phone in your hands while Seokjin opens the trunk and retrieves your suitcase.

As you exit the car, tired from the unknowable amount of time you dozed off, Seokjin rolls your suitcase over to the jet, toward a small set of stairs that sticks out from its entrance. He stops at the bottom of the steps and hands the suitcase off to a staff member, then motions for you to get moving. 

You make your way somewhat slowly up the stairs, and you are surprised when you turn around to see that Seokjin is still on the ground. He is not joining you. 

"In order to prevent the lover boys from following your scent and making a rescue mission, I am sending you to Taiwan," he shouts. Worry rises, and you open your mouth to protest, but he continues, "A liaison will be there to meet you. She will know you when she sees you. Keep your head down, and do not try to contact any of us."

With a different phone, you wonder whether you can contact any of them without jumping through hoops. Surely, Seokjin did not hand you a device with everyone's numbers stored. You squeeze the phone in your palm, overtaken by the urge to cry. 

"I will reach out soon!" Seokjin shouts, lifting a hand to wave it. He appears far too calm for your comfort, and you suddenly worry you are making a huge mistake. "Trust that the people you meet have been put in charge of looking out for you, and keep an open mind. Things are not always as they seem."

Before you can respond, a staff member places a hand on your shoulder and ushers you to walk further into the airplane. You resist for a few seconds, but give in, too tired and confused to fight. You want to scream and lash out at Seokjin, but he is already spinning on the balls of his shoes and walking away. 

What have you done? What have you agreed to?

Staff members close the door while others make their way into your cabin. They ask softly worded questions, suggesting food and drink to bring once you are in the air. You shake your head, only half hearing what anyone says and finding it difficult to focus. 

As the plane begins to move, you find a seat and strap in, then you close your eyes. You are too anxious to properly take in your surroundings, moving on autopilot. The captain is soft-spoken as he informs you that the flight will be just under three hours. And so, you decide to close your eyes and sleep. 

Nightmares haunt every second of the flight, and you jolt awake more than once disoriented and heavy, unable to keep your eyes open long enough to move into the bedroom in the back or to convince yourself to ask for something to drink. When the jet lands, you gasp, eyes wide and heart pounding. It takes a few moments to realize where you are. 

The plane slows to an eventual stop, and you feel motion sick with the urge to vomit. Luckily, a staff member is close by, and they offer you a cup of water, which you drink quickly. 

Seokjin's recommendation to keep an open mind plays in your head on repeat, and you worry yourself with all the horrible possibilities. Who could be waiting for you once the door to this plane opens? You are not eager to find out.

Staff members open the door, and you almost do not believe your eyes when, a moment later, in runs Ahn Hyejin. She looks like an angel dressed in a white tank top and short white shorts, with a long white sweater falling from her shoulders. Her dark hair falls to one side of her face in large waves, and her pouty lips are bright red. You remain buckled into the seat when she falls to her knees and sits tall, wrapping her arms around your middle. 

"H–Hyejin?" you try, unsure whether your exhaustion has reached new heights and you are hallucinating. 

Her perfume is all too familiar, convincing you that she really is here. The rose hits your senses first, followed by citrus and something sweet, and you relax all at once, letting out a deep breath, only half aware of the tears that pour from your eyes. 

"My dove," she sighs, voice somewhat strained as if she is holding back her own tears. "It is so good to see you again. Come, you must get some sleep."

Hyejin reaches to undo your seatbelt, and reality continues to sink in. You move to help with the buckle, limbs moving on a bit of a delay, and you only have a chance to graze your fingertips over metal before she pulls it apart and frees you. 

She gets to her feet and reaches out, taking both of your hands in hers and yanking you upward. Once you are steady, she begins pulling you to the exit. It is still dark outside, with a hint of sun coming over the horizon. You imagine you must be one or two time zones away from home. 

A blood-red sedan sits on the tarmac, and when the door to the back seat is opened, you notice a woman in the driver's seat and another in the passenger's seat. You are unable to make out their features as you approach, noticing only straight dark hair on the passenger that is pulled tight into a bun with strands sticking out on one side. Both women wear sunglasses despite the lack of sun.

Hyejin says, "No matter what, know that you are safe, and loved, and protected." 

This does not assuage the already growing ball of nausea in your gut, and although your hand begins to sweat in her grasp, she is steadfast, holding on tight. A staff member approaches and puts your suitcase into the back of the vehicle, and Hyejin holds out a hand toward the open door and urges you to get in. 

Only now do you realize there is a third row of seats, one of which is occupied by another unrecognizable woman who does not greet you. As you slide into the back seat, a woman you had not noticed gets in on the other side, sitting to your right and sandwiching you in the center, with Hyejin on your left. 

Once you are settled and surrounded on all sides, an unfamiliar woman begins to drive, and you study her semi-covered face in the rear-view mirror, searching her nose and lips for any hints of recognition. Soft pop music plays, and you wonder if it is the same channel Seokjin had been playing before you remember you are no longer in Korea.

As the car pulls out of the airport, the front passenger turns her body to face you, and you realize in this moment what Seokjin meant when he urged you to keep an open mind—what Hyejin meant when she insisted that you are safe and loved and protected. 

You recognize Ryujin even before she fully removes her sunglasses, smiling wide and only a bit devious. She is beautiful with her dark hair pulled out of her face. 

"Darling," she says, dragging each syllable out long in a voice that is soft as silk. You swallow thickly, fighting another urge to be sick. "How lovely to finally meet you. I'm Shin Ryujin."

"I know who you are," you manage to say, voice strained and weak.

Ryujin giggles. "Oh, good! Seokjin-oppa called in a favor, so we are going to be taking you home with us. We'll stay here for the next two days, though. Are you hungry?"

Although the question is aimed at you, the car erupts into eager chatting. It seems the other four women are quite hungry. You nod despite not being sure whether you can eat. 

"I know you likely have a lot of questions," Ryujin says through the chatter, voice surprisingly clear though much softer. "Let's get you settled in and I will tell you everything you wish to know."

And with that, the six of you drive along dark city streets, far from anywhere you have come to know as home. 

* * *

When you realize By the sign of my eyes Without a doubt You can't stop me 'cause Love is banned

🎵 visit the playlist

absolutely bonkers that large chunks of this chapter have been written for literally a year. it's nice for things to finally culminate to this point.

this would have been the end of Collateral. i would have said a bunch of sappy shit and thanked you for your years of service before taking a hiatus and moving into the sequel. but since i have changed how things are going to be, we are simply going to continue. check out the master post to see the changes that have been made, and if you are curious for more context, see this post.

i am eternally grateful, tho!!! i hope you know that, dear readers! i started this fic two (2!!) years ago (as of this week!!!), and it is a honor to have you still here with me. i definitely did not intend for it to go on this long. 💜 thank you, thank you for your patience while i was dealing with writer's block. grief is a hell of a drug, and it knocked me flat on my ass.

this has been edited, but docs acted super weird and made a lot of strange duplications of words and phrases during the writing process, so if you find anything that is just fucking wonky that i may have missed (or even something perfectly normal!) don't be afraid to tell me. i would rather know to fix a mistake than leave it.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! REBLOGS ARE IMPORTANT BLAHBLAHBLAH LIKES ARE ALSO AMAZING AND SO ON. 💜 tags will be coming in reblogs.

Yoongi's POV is next. i changed my mind about what i wanted his to contain, and i hope you enjoy it.

if you would like to see the inspo that brought DPR IAN to being mc's ex, check out this post.

have some water and fix your posture. 💜💜💜 i hope to see you soon!!! love you byeee!!!

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

Collateral is copyright 2022-2024 theharrowing, all rights reserved. no translations of reposts allowed.

[cantwritethetword]

(2024) TickleTober Day 1: Harvest - Going against the Grain

Fic Descript - Bruce agrees to help out on the Kent farm and, after an off-handed comment from Clark, he decides to see how ticklish superman actually is.

~A/N  - Welcome to ticklecrowber2024!!!! (forgive the corny title hehehehehe)

We're starting off this month with a super cute superbat fic requested by an anon. While writing it I'm realising this is gonna be a pre-relationship romantic fic, so hopefully that floats your boat.

Like I mentioned on a post ages ago, I'm not aiming to write full fics for all the prompts this year to hopefully avoid burnout so I'm going into this aiming for a few hundred words - we'll see how that goes.

Hope you like it!

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @fullsongphilosopher

Masterpost Link 

TickleTober Masterpost

One of the (few) things Bruce hated about being in love with someone was the way it made him do things.

And not in a suggestive or psychological way, literally he felt compelled to gain some sort of relationship 'brownie points' to subtly prove his worth as a potential partner.

Which was how he had ended up here, about to knock on the door of Clark's farm home.

When superman mentioned needing to do some hard labour around the fields up in Kansas, Bruce found himself offering to help before he could even blink. It wasn't until Clark enthusiastically accepted that the batman fully realised what he had gotten himself into.

Mixing their work and personal lives? At Clark's house no less? Doing something that probably was effortless for Clark, but would be a significant physical strain for Bruce? What was he thinking?! He'll look like a fool...

But, as much as his brain loved to insist on how much of a bad idea this was, Bruce had resisted the temptation to cancel.

And so, he now found himself raising his fist and tapping the wooden door-frame.

"Bruce!" Clark grinned, opening the door fully.

The man was dressed so stereotypically farm-y, Bruce thought to himself. Brown leather boots half-covered by a pair of old denim jeans, topped with a plain white tee and - god he looked good in that red flannel...

"-are you... did you want to come in?" Clark chuckled.

Shit, had Clark invited him in already? Was he that distracted by the superhero in front of him that he fully disregarded any input other than the sight- wait it's happening again-

"Yes!" Bruce blurted out, interrupting his own thoughts. "Sorry, yes. Thanks."

Ugh love made him a mess.

As Clark narrated and explained his way through his humble abode, Bruce couldn't help but get stuck in his own head - again. He barely registered that they had left the house and were now walking through the wheat fields. He knew Clark was giving some really important information as to what exactly they needed to do and where they would need to do it, but it was almost as if his brain was more focused on the sound of Clark's voice than what it was actually saying.

Until Clark giggled.

Like a gunshot, Bruce locked onto the sound with unbridled curiosity. What had caused it? Would it happen again? Whatever it was clearly didn't phase Clark, as he was back to talking about whatever farmyard jargon that was interrupted earlier.

A few more moments passed, and Bruce had never been more focused on Clark's surroundings. What could possibly have made superman laugh like that? And how common of an occurrence was it if Clark didn't even acknowledged it?

Thankfully, it happened again - with Bruce watching the whole thing.

As Clark walked, a few stray spikes of wheat brushed against his bare lower forearms (where he had rolled up the aforementioned flannel). His hand twitched reflexively, and he once again let out a soft giggle at the sensation.

And, once again. Bruce's mouth moved before his brain could catch up.

"What was that?"

Clark half-turned his torso to face Bruce. "Oh, it just tickles."

Bruce flushed at the casualness of Clark's response.

"It's actually one of my favourite parts of walking through here..." Clark continued with a genuine smile. "Something so small being so intense, makes me feel soft.... alive... human..."

Only Clark could make getting tickled by a plant sound so endearing, it was almost enough to make Bruce forget the huge tidbit of Clark lore that had just been revealed to him.

Superman's ticklish??

He didn't have much time to feel the full shock of that information, as Clark was already several paces ahead of him. Bruce half-skipped to catch up, and as he did, something in his mind convinced him to snap off a piece of wheat from beside him.

As they continued their walk towards the edge of the field where they were about to begin work, and Clark continued yapping, Bruce ran his fingers over the wheat piece in his hand. Was he seriously about to try to tickle superman? Would Clark be alright with it? Would he find it weird and repulsive and never speak to Bruce again cause how could he possibly think that was a normal thing to-

stop - Bruce interrupted himself.

no overthinking

Bruce took a breath, slightly sped up his footsteps to bring himself right behind Clark, and ran the wheat stalk along the side of Clark's neck.

Clark folded with a shriek and a giggle, his smile never fading as he gave Bruce a quizzical look.

That smile was all the invitation Batman needed.

With a smirk, Bruce tackled Clark into the wheat next to them and climbed on top of his chest before frantically twiddling the wheat stem against any potentially ticklish bare skin he could find. Clark's neck, ears, collarbones - even the small patch on his tummy that was exposed from his shirt riding up as they fell - nothing was safe.

And Clark's laughter was like birdsong - it was the most free, happy, genuine giggling Bruce had ever heard. So much so, the billionaire opted to snatch another piece of wheat to use in his free hand against Clark's forearms - which were currently doing fuck-all to fight against the tickly attacks (aside from clinging to and breaking some nearby wheat stems, but Bruce theorised that was mostly for Clark to resist fighting back... cute).

After a sufficient tickling, Bruce paused - mentally checking for any signs of annoyance on Clark's face and letting the man calm down for a few moments.

"Why'd you stop?" Clark asked breathily without missing a beat, and now looking slightly disappointed.

Once again caught aback by Clark's openness, Bruce stuttered and floundered for an answer. "I... I was just... I wanted to... make sure... you..."

Clark laughed. "No need to panic, it was just a question."

Bruce chuckled, still a little embarrassed.

"You always worry so much." Superman smiled, poking Bruce's neck with one of the wheat stalks he had snatched during the tickle-attack to emphasise his point.

Bruce squeaked (though he would later insist this wasn't true), his face flushing a deep red.

"Oh?" Clark grinned menacingly, rolling himself and Bruce over to flip their positions with clearly little-to-no effort. "The dark, scary batman is ticklish too?"

oh god

And, after being thoroughly tickled, Bruce spent the entire time they worked on the farm trying to convince himself the look on his own face before Clark tickled him definitely wasn't nervous excitement, and that he definitely wouldn't give anything do it all again.

Definitely not.

[drunknillawafer]

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader | part 3

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

hiii here is part 3! hopefully you guys like it, i'm still getting used to writing a fic and keeping it published... rmr to like/reblog/comment if u like it, it's like feedback >.< again i do not own these characters or the atla universe this is simply fan fiction! about 2331 words btww

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

“You don’t actually believe any of this stuff, do you?” Sokka painfully reminds me of his disapproving attitude.

We were walking through the forest when we ran into an eerie man. He gave us an umbrella because a psychic in his village told him to hold it on his travels if he met strangers. A few minutes later, Sokka was too stubborn to believe the old man and couldn't stay dry.

Katara and I took one look at each other and immediately agreed. We have to go see this lady.

Events like these would be odd to anyone else, like Jet. But to Aang, it’s pretty common. It must be his tie to the spirit realm, magic gravitates toward him.

A few weeks after joining the group and abandoning my post with the Freedom Fighters, I learned a lot of things about the people who stumbled upon that Fire Nation camp and changed the trajectory of my plans. Katara and Sokka are siblings from the Southern Water Tribe, and Aang is an airbender from… a while ago. He was frozen in the ice for one hundred years when Katara found him. For a kid 4 years younger than me, he's lived a hundred lifetimes. He's a prodigy. I can see why Zuko hadn’t caught up to them yet.

But I also don’t want to know what Zuko would do to Aang if he did catch up, or what I’d do if he did.

I don’t know my place in this group, or if I should tell them I’m a fire-bender, but for now, we’re standing in front of a circular red door at the strange village the eerie man told us to go to.

Apparently, Aunt Wu has been waiting for us.

“Kind of, it’s nice to know,” I reply to Sokka’s earlier question. I've decided to keep my questions to Aunt Wu light, like Katara. Ask about love.

When we enter, a little girl in a pink robe and two buns on the side of her head greets us.

“I’m Meng and I’m Aunt Wu’s assistant." She motions towards the orange pillows on the right for us to sit down. It’s a small warm yellow waiting room with red lights, green accents, and a smooth wooden floor. Designed for someone to trust and open up. Cozy. “Would you guys like some tea or bean curd puffs?” She offers.

“I’ll try a puff!” Sokka perks up. Meng leaves the room to retrieve the goods and we are left alone, sitting on the soft cushions.

Aang can't help but break the tempting silence, “You don’t believe in fortune telling, Sokka?”

“I don’t need some psychic to tell me about the future. I’m worried about right now.”

I roll my eyes. “Sokka’s a skeptic.”

Before he can reply, Meng returns with the curd puffs and tea. She sets it down on the floor in front of Aang, making sure he can see her favor. “Enjoy!” She blushes and scurries away to the other side of the room reserved for the people who work with Aunt Wu. Do they get predictions too?

Sokka drags the tray away from an unbothered Aang, “Don’t mind if I do.”

I’d gotten used to Katara and Aang, they were fairly easy to travel with.

Katara is used to her brother and has developed a habit of preparing an apology about him to new people. In his defense, this is the first time he's lived outside his home. The Southern Water Tribe has been unable to fully recover from the last Fire Nation raid and the impacts still live today. The siblings are only used to the cold, quaint, and silent.

Aang, as the last air-bender, the Avatar, and a 12-year-old boy adjusting to being essentially gone from humanity for one hundred years in the ice... has other things on his mind.

It was Sokka who bothered me. He was unlike anyone I’d ever met before.

He had this incessant need to voice his opinions with no one's feelings in mind. Constant tunnel vision over any dispute with his younger sister betrayed his need to be a vicious warrior. A warrior with a boomerang and no sword on hand.

I've learned Sokka's a non-bender living in a world being corrupted by fire-benders and he's developed the necessary armor.

He’ll take the fishing job for us when we’re out of money. He did get us sick for being out in the storm, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

The same reason he can be frustrating is the same reason he saved the village: he won’t listen to anyone when his mind is set.

He’s true and noble, really. It’s admiring. I shake my head. He’s a conundrum.

An older woman wearing a floor-length yellow robe walks in through the circular door to Aunt Wu's working area. Her bright smile and waiting eyes are signs that she's the psychic. In a sweet tone, she gleefully asks, “Welcome! Who wants to go first?”

I look at everyone, but no one speaks up. After a moment of silence, I raise my hand. “I’ll go.”

“Perfect, follow me!” Aunt Wu guides me through the hallway and stops in front of the door to her space. She opens and I’m instantly greeted by dim lights and a small fireplace in the middle of the room. Colorful cushions to sit on and lit candles on the floor are placed circularly near a decorative stand with a bowl. A closer look and I see small and medium-sized bones at the very top.

“This is my method." She must've seen my reaction and answered the questions all over it. "You choose a bone, throw it in a fire. The fire makes cracks in the bones, and I read the cracks. The bones never lie.” She explains. “Go ahead.”

I grab a random bone and, per her instructions, throw it in the fire. I watch as the flames engulf the calcium.

We sit in front of the fire on the berry-colored pillows as we patiently wait for the cracks to start forming. Aunt Wu is focused on the fortune while I look around the room, pretending I’m not waiting for her next words.

“Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t know, I mean. You can just tell me what the bones say.” I chicken out from my original plan.

By now, there are a few cracks in my chosen bone. Aunt Wu burrows her eyebrows and leans forward. “I see you... falling in love with a warrior.” She pauses. “His mother figure left his life early when he was just a little boy. He is an excellent swordsman and an even better friend.”

Deflecting, I question her, “You can see all of that from a bunch of cracks?"

“Yes, you’ll take part in a great battle with this love of yours. Remember to look in friendship.” She gracefully leans her head up and down, signaling the end of the session.

“I will,” I nod. “Thank you, Aunt Wu.” I stand up from my pillow and bow to her as a gesture of goodbye. I wonder if she knew what I wanted to ask.

When I exit the room through the door, I’m greeted by a flustered Sokka on the other end.

“Spying on me?” I ask him, fighting a smile on my face.

“No, I was just – going to the bathroom!” He spoke. Quickly, he marched to the restrooms beyond Aunt Wu’s door. O-kay.

I walk back to the waiting room and tell Katara to go in after me. She jumps up from her seat in a giddy excitement and heads toward the back room.

I sit next to Aang on the soft pillows and search for the curd puffs. Sokka made them look so good.

“So, what do you think she’s going to ask?” Aang says as he hands me the snack.

“Probably about love, you know. Who she’s going to marry. If he’s gonna be tall.” I stuff the curd puff into my mouth and let the savory taste absorb my mind. These are good.

“Yeah, haha, right. Well…I’ll be right back.” He stands up. “I gotta go to the bathroom!” Apparently, everyone needs to right now. But it’s the first stop we’ve made in about an hour, so.

“Say hi to Sokka for me.” I watch as he hurries away. A few seconds later, the boy in blue returns.

I hold a puff in my hand and point at the delicious snack for emphasis. “Hey, these are great.”

He sits next to me and grabs one for himself, eating it in one bite. He seems to be in thought. “Are you okay?” I poke.

With his mouth stuffed he speaks, “Yeah, I’m great.”

☆

When we leave Aunt Wu’s, Sokka is walking next to me as Katara and Aang lead the way through the village. He doesn't leave my side as we walk through the maze of Earth Kingdom commune layouts.

We finally reach the town square when Katara asks, “What happened to the sky?” It looked like the citizens all took the day to meet here and stare upward in unison, murmuring to themselves.

A man standing nearby overhears her question. “Every year, Aunt Wu reads the clouds and tells us the fate of our village.” Please with his answer, he continues to watch the sky.

“Can you believe this guy?” Sokka looks at me in disbelief. “Now the clouds?”

Another villager, a woman, continues the explanation. “She’s going to tell us if the volcano will remain dormant.” Her arm extends behind her and points to the harmless mountain.

Do they actually let Aunt Wu tell them if the volcano is going to erupt?

“Do you actually let Aunt Wu tell you if the volcano is going to erupt? Why?” Sokka asks them. The other half of the time, we find ourselves agreeing.

“She’s coming, hush!” Katara shushes her brother.

Aunt Wu walks right in the middle of the crowd as they make way for her, clapping and cheering. She begins to list the shape of the clouds, followed by a fortune for the town. Good harvest, twins are having a good year, and the volcano will not erupt.

“She’s been right for twenty years, maybe that’s a sign she can be trusted.” I nudge Sokka with my elbow. He rolls his eyes in annoyance, I’ve been bought like the rest of them.

Katara and Aang are swept away by the current of cheers and idolization for Aunt Wu. Though, it seems like since we got here Aang’s head has been anywhere else but, on the psychic, and her predictions.

“Right…” A suddenly serious Sokka pulls me by my arm. He uses the wave of hysteria as his moment to step away from the group. Begrudgingly, I feel my heart drop into my stomach from his hand touching my arm. “Just in case she ends up, being right, I want to let you know that… uh…” He lets the seconds fly by.

“Spit it out.”

“I like you.” He lets out.

Oh.

“And I know you’re not really like open to people in general,” He continues. “It’s been a few weeks and I hardly know about your life before the Freedom Fighters.” Sokka pauses to read my face. “But I like you. Ever since I first saw you.”

I haven’t really shared anything about myself with them, true.

It was the morning after.

Fire Lord Ozai ordered his best General, my father, and his family, me, to attend a Royal Agni Kai. They didn’t happen much but when they did, it was required for all the important people of the Fire Lord’s inner circle and their families to attend. Some twisted tradition.

When I arrived in the sea of crimson clothes and serious faces, I believed I was going to witness an agni kai between Zuko’s Uncle Iroh and his brother. Who else could it be? I was wrong. I saw Iroh in the audience, and it felt like a thousand pounds had been rested on my chest. I wouldn’t believe what I had to endure next. What Zuko had to experience.

I would see Fire Lord Ozai’s fire-bending with my own two eyes, but it would be against my best friend, his son.

Now, I’m locking myself in my room in defiance. I don’t want to have anything to do with my father if he’d let me see the cruelty up close and personal. He took everything I love and messed it all up in one swift choice. Rage wouldn’t begin to describe the feeling bubbling in my throat.

I wasn’t sure if I should go see Zuko, if his injuries are unsafe for visitors. I’d regret it as soon as the servant brought the letter the prince had sent to me.

As I close the door to my chambers behind the maid, I open the note for the sign of anything relieving.

Y/N,

Father banished me. I must go find the Avatar, so I’m leaving on a ship. Uncle is coming. I don’t know when I’ll see you again, so I wanted to let you know that I will restore my honor and come home to you. I love you

Zuko

I re-read the note three times before understanding what it is that he’s telling me.

The bubble in my throat is slowly forming into a ball of tears, ready to pour out at any minute. He’s gone. Mutilated by his own father and then sent away. I hate him, I hate the Fire Lord. For everything he’s taken away from me.

On the other end, I feel butterflies. The ones I’d been pushing down for the past year about Zuko. I didn’t want to ruin what we had or change it. We were nice as we were. I guess he was feeling it too.

But it’s too late. There’s no more time to sit and wonder if a boy likes you back. It’s not about that anymore. It’s about finally ending this war and stopping the Fire Nation.  

“So, what do you think?” Sokka looks at me, searching for an indication in my eyes.

“I…” struggle to find the words, “But I can’t. Not right now... Is that okay?” It’s my turn to look at him and hope I didn’t ruin it.

But Sokka’s kind. “No of course not. I understand. I just thought you should know. I’ll be here, yaknow, if you change your mind.” He flashes that grand smile at me.

I didn't know if I wanted to start this here and now. He doesn't even know I'm a fire-bender. Would he feel the same way if he knew? I'm not ready for any answer.

Still, it was nice to know he liked me back. I could revel in that a bit.

[themaclean]

hi i just came from ao3 and firstly, i have read ur vaultghoul fic probably 20 times already it’s just so good with spot on characterization and amazing writing, thank u so much 🙏

secondly, i was reading the comments on it and came across one abt wanting to see a pre-war au where cooper and lucy start an affair and immediately my ears perked up like 👀 all i could imagine is her being cast as his love interest, her being a big fan of his already, and them having a wedding scene where they fuck in her wedding dress after they call cut

n e way so sorry for rambling haha but unfortunately ive got the brainrot now

I MEAN HYPOTHETICALLY -- I'm mobile (and somehow wrote 2k words still wheeze) so I'll finish this when I'm on my PC but I played around with the idea a bit thanks to this ask. :)

...

Summary; Cooper Howard x Lucy MacLean, 2077 AU where Lucy and Cooper star in a movie together.

...

There's a whole host of ways that Vault-Tec could have cracked down on Cooper. Given the infringement of their security protocols and the divorce and the way they choked him out of all the good roles...

It wasn't such a far stretch that he'd have to take place in the biggest circle jerk of a film production where his super-fan shoved his daughter into a starring role using Cooper's connections.

Because, so far as the public knew, he was still a supporter of Vault-Tec and he'd do just about anything to sell that delusion.

Cooper crushed the heel of his palms against his eyes, a limp cigarette hung between his teeth.

The girl was a nightmare.

Stiff, picky, absent-minded. No emotion, either, no semblance of self-awareness. It was like some Disney Princess popped out of the cartoons in the worst way, quick to parrot the lines she was meant to say with perfect diction but nothing more than that.

And it was somehow his fucking job to coach the girl -- Lucy -- into a leading lady. The idea was that she was the daughter of the Overseer, played by her actual father, and Cooper was some vault dweller from another section.

The whole thing was convoluted. He did cowboy flicks and the sort that had a showdown at the end. This sci-fi garbage went right over his head, this future projection of the what-if. He didn't have time for the what-if.

He had a daughter he needed to vy for custody of and an expensive divorce on the horizon. And Barb had the best lawyers money could buy and he'd never thought they'd end up like this. There was no pre-nup and nothing to protect him.

And he didn't have a goddamn lighter.

"You shouldn't smoke."

Cooper near growled around the butt of his cigarette, only just keeping himself civil at the last moment. He turned towards Lucy, unable to mistake her for anyone else. There was something about her vacant, pretty face that irked him, those giant goddamn eyes.

"It's bad for you. I read an article about it."

"Maybe you'd be better off reading your lines again," Cooper said with a wave of his hand. He dug in his jacket pocket, the one he'd worn to set.

Bingo.

Lucy crossed her arms and leaned against the vault railing. It was strange to do the filming down, a hundred feet or so beneath the surface, but it made for impressive sets. They were around the corner from the rest of the camera crew and cast.

And they were alone for the first time since shooting. Most times, Cooper had a few stage hands or interns at his heel. And he didn't see Lucy around much, except for scenes. Didn't chase her down, didn't much think of her.

Except now he's aware she's still in the wedding dress she'd been in earlier. Stage blood soaked the stomach of it, thick streams of blood from where she'd been stabbed. But he'd saved her and they'd shared a chaste kiss for the camera.

And then he hadn't seen her.

"I thought you'd be a better kisser."

Cooper didn't withhold the glare, couldn't bring himself to give a fuck. "Pardon?"

"Just -- the kiss. Didn't really..." Lucy narrowed her eyes at him. "I grew up watching your movies. My dad is a big fan. I always figured you'd be a good kisser, but you aren't."

"You ain't much yourself, either," Cooper said with a raised brow. "Like a fish, sweetheart. Cold."

"I'm not a fish," she snapped back. "That's very mean. I -- I know I was mean first but I just thought you could do better."

Cooper couldn't help but laugh to himself at this miserable brat who'd sought him out to complain about an on-screen kiss. He took a long drag, his gaze slanted across the backs of his knuckles.

"You're here 'cause your daddy yanked some strings," Cooper shrugged a shoulder. "My only obligation is to make a movie for the studio. I'm not your damn boyfriend-for-hire, trying to get you off for the cameras."

Cooper was a professional and on his best behaviour -- usually. But the long days of filming for a corporation rooted in the exploitation of the country he'd fought for... That patience wore thinner with each moment he was alone with this brat.

"I'm here as an actress -- "

"You can act?" Cooper asked, mock surprise as he pressed a hand to his chest.

Lucy had the gall to look offended.

Cooper took another drag, his hip notched against the railing. "It's a movie, darling. I've been doing this shit for years. They ain't gonna let people tongue each other to high hell."

"That..."

"That is exactly how it works," Cooper said as he ashed his cigarette onto the grate beneath his feet. "It's not about you, it's about the shot."

Lucy looked at him like he'd slapped her. "I know it's about the shot."

"Could've fooled me." Cooper huffed out a breath. He'd kissed plenty of women for his films and he was a consummate professional. If the audience bought into it, that was all he needed. He didn't give a damn if his co-star got butterflies over it.

Especially not the daughter of some jackass at Vault-Tec, for a project that was nothing more than an empty propaganda piece. But he didn't have much choice.

"I'm here because it's important to my father. Vault-Tec wanted to keep as many roles as they could within the company -- "

"Nepotism."

"To promote the culture they want within the movie, which is carefully curated -- "

"Cultish."

"To their... Could you stop doing that?"

Cooper crossed his arms, his cigarette nearly finished. The vault had good enough ventilation that the smoke disappeared but the smell lingered. He pushed away from the railing, his expensive smile slack across his lips.

"I had my fill of the Vault-Tec propaganda, sweetheart. Don't make a difference if it's from a pamphlet or a pretty girl, I'm just doing what I'm being paid to."

"Wasn't it your wife -- ex-wife -- who brought you in originally?"

Cooper's neck twitched as he looked down at Lucy, as she smart-mouthed her way right into some shit she didn't know anything about. He tipped his head to the side, the annoying collar of the vault suit biting into his jawline.

"So you believed what Vault-Tec thought originally." Lucy toyed with the stain on her white dress, her fingers tugged at the frayed edge. "What changed?"

"Nothing," Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy met his eye, her head tilted to contrast the angle of his head. She settled a hand on the railing, uncertainty replaced her uppity edge from before. "I'm not trying to spy on you or get information. You just -- had your life together, and then you're getting divorced."

"It happens," Cooper said, aware now that she was between him and the crew. The vault split into spidery webs in all directions, though. He could leave her if he wanted. But then he'd end up who knows where, deep in the belly of this steel nest.

But they were alone, and she'd inched closer to him.

Cooper saw the leading ladies he worked with as colleagues. Sometimes they'd have to kiss or imitate gentle moments or intimacy -- but for the most part, he could compartmentalise it. But Lucy didn't act. She couldn't. She was an atrocious leading lady and she read everything as if she were saying it herself.

Like a porn actress, saying shit to get through to the action, rushing through the writing like it didn't matter.

It wasn't her fault. He had the sneaking suspicious she had no interest in acting or in this movie; that she was only doing it because her father asked her to do it. Maybe even so she could have an excuse to meet him, he realized dimly as she looked up at him with wide hazel eyes.

That separation -- of leading lady and of a romantic partner -- muddled with her. Because he didn't even like her. He didn't want to get to know her. He hated her father and he wanted nothing to do with this company.

And she was closer to him than not, and they'd kissed a handful of times, and she'd said he sucked at it.

Cooper rolled his jaw as Lucy didn't have the guts to do more than she had. Her moony eyes fixed up at him like a challenge. And then he felt his resolve snap because it wasn't like he had much to lose. This wasn't a real acting gig and she wasn't a real leading lady.

His hand snapped out, fingers and thumb dug into her cheek. He brought her close, to see what she'd do. The answer was -- not much. She didn't shout or push him away, their mouths inches apart as he hovered close to her, examining her beneath his lashes.

"Bad kisser -- that what you said?"

Lucy swallowed hard enough to nudge his hand. "Well, you were. I'm not going to lie to you to spare your ego."

Cooper made a soft sound from the back of his throat as he kissed her. The distant crack and shift of the crew as they moved their cameras from one vault room to another should be a deterent but Cooper doesn't care.

He's single, isn't he. Has been for a few months. He'd not acted on it, hadn't felt the urge to, but he's as trapped as ever in the shadow of what Barb had done to him. It's only fair he make use of that shadow to indulge, even if it's just to prove a point to this girl Lucy.

There's some inherent amusement to how she melted into the kiss. She wanted it far more than she'd let on, that soft mewing, moaning neediness as he stroked her long brown hair out of her face. He threaded his fingers softly through her hair, hand on either side of her face, fingers combing through her hair.

Her back was arched over the railing as he gave her the kiss she'd probably expected earlier, the one he wasn't about to throw out on camera. There's standards for cinema and he didn't want to waste film or time.

But then her fingers were on the zipper of the stupid fucking vault suit. He didn't stop her, even as she yanked it down and slipped her hand along his stomach.

If anything, he pushed harder against her. The fluffy white skirt of her wedding dress made it hard to get much for himself. But with a yank of her knee and the shift of her weight, he had her seated on the railing. Her shoulder caught one of the metal frames, to keep her pinned in place.

If this were any other job or any other actress, he'd give a fuck.

But it's Vault-Tec, through and through.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 758: The senpai's few words

Pag 2

1: Aoyagi-san!!

Pag 3

1: Wha- what happened, Danchiku, you stopped so suddenly

2: Why is he here, in Kyushu!?

What is it, what is it

4: He's probably the person I'd want to see the most right now!!

5: What is it, is there someone in the audience area?

Someone you know? You look so surprised

I wouldn't be so surprised even if someone was there

Pag 4

2: He-hello!! You... you came to... cheer us on!?

3: It's been a while, Danchiku

4: Yes.... yes!!

Thank you so much for coming so far to see us!!

5: You got bigger

Pag 5

2: Thank you so much

3: Uhm, actually

There's something I'd like to talk to you about, is that....

4: Aoyagi-saaaan!!

-okay!?

Pag 6

1: What, for real!?

What, are you really here- amaaazing!!

Oi, Issa, I was....

2: Wait... did you just made Aoyagi-san lose consciousness with your tackle!?

3: Aoyagi-saaan!! Hahahaha!!

You're attacking him when he's already down...!!

4: I'm... o... okay...

No, he keeps pausing while talking!!

Hahaha

5: I'll lead you to our tent!! Carry him, Danchiku!!

'Carry him'....

Pag 7

2: Thank you

2: I wished you had told me you'd come though, Aoyagi!!

You forgot to add “san”, Kabuagi

3: There was something... I wanted to talk to you about but

4: I guess it can't be helped....

(You're ending up yielding again, Danchiku)

5: Ah right

6: Aoyagi-san is

Pag 8

1: A member of last year's team!!

He's the column who supported Sohoku from below last year!!

2: Someone who gained experience through hard work and difficulties and debuted in his third year, ran as a sprinter, pulled the team, and brought back the members so many times

3: Without talking, without refusing, he just did it silently!!

5: Even when he was in a pinch, when he was injured, he moved forward with all his might without ever standing out!!

If he hadn't been there, there's no way Sohoku could have won!!

Pag 9

1: He-he sounds amazing, teh

Right!! I'm really flashy, so his way of running is probably the exact opposite of mine

2: Hearing it again, he really is an amazing person.....

and I also know well what happened with his leg on the third day

4: If I was in the same position and got injured.... would I be able to run the same way?

5: “He'll run away right away”

“He's a chicken”

Pag 10

1: In this Inter High that is about to start

Pag 11

1: Since Aoyagi-san came to see us, I'll smash the starting dash!

There's no need to smash, run calmly

2: Should I get subbed out?

I'm still in time

4: “No one will blame you”

“I can be done in fifteen minutes”

5: I'm at my peak now!!

Save it for the race

6: You're an idiot as usual

I'll forgive everything you say, Aoyagi-san!!

7: What can I do, what......

Nothing....!!

Pag 12

1: The stage event is starting soon

Last year's champions, Sohoku High School, representative of Chiba, please come to the stage

Kakaka, it's our turn!!

2: Teh.... I'm nervous, the

There's gonna be tons of spectators!!

3: Do-do we take a video? I'll do it, Sugimoto-san

I'll leave it to you then. I'll finish up here

4: Su-

Sugimoto-san!!

6: Ao.... yagi-san.....

Pag 13

1: Could you do me one favor?

2: Ah- yes!

Do you want something to eat!! Right away!!

3: The food truck is there... is curry alright?

4: …. no

5: A band-aid!? A nail-clipper!?

Leave it to me, after all I worked a lot behind-the-scene last year

6: Oi, Danchiku, what are you doing. Let's go

8: Ye.... yes

Pag 14

1: Take care of that idiot

Pag 15

3: The Inter High is harsh and long

But he's reckless and can't read the air

5: You, on the other hand

6: You always keep an eye on your surroundings and pay attention to what people say and do

And that means

Pag 16

1: That you can make an accurate judgment of risk in any situation

3: The ability to read small details when you're in a pinch is essential in road racing

4: Earlier in the midst of more than a hundred people in the audience area, you

Pag 17

1: found me at one glance

4: I think you know this too, but he can only look ahead

Please support him, take a step back and, as always

5: be watchful

Pag 18

2: Yessir!! Thank you so much!!

4: “Take a step back”.....!! Taking a step back.... yielding, are my...

5: If this small heart is my ability

Pag 19

2: then I'll be the one running, Issa!!

Together with you!!

At full throttle!!

Pag 20

1: Run, Danchiku

Just like I did last year

2: with Junta

3: I'm sure your feelings will give you strength

These are the members of Sohoku, the Chiba prefecture representative who won the championship last year

Pag 21

1: So far they have won two times in a row

3: What's wrong.... your balloon... shall I get it for you?

Pag 22

2: Thank you, Onii-chan

3: That's surprising, Midosuji-san

You're so kind

4: Puku.... I am kind, though?

To

5: anyone who doesn't wear a number bib, that is!!

[hyperion-severus]

I was thinking about how Scorpius says he’s going to try out for the Quidditch team and this is how I think it would go down…

The entire week prior to tryouts, he’s waking up extra early before classes and dragging Albus out to the pitch to practice (only once the sun is up though, so they don’t have to think about last year's events).

So when the announcement comes out stating who made it on the team, Albus reads Scorpius’ name right next to the word ‘reserve’ and turns to the other boy with an apologetic look, knowing he was hoping for seeker. Even after all that hard work he put in over the summer and during the first week of school, he still hadn’t made an actual spot. But despite Albus’ sudden preparation to console his friend, Scorpius is beaming, a smile splitting his face.

“I made it! I made it on the team!” He was practically jumping up and down as he gripped Albus’ shoulders, “Do you see that? That’s my name right there! I must write my father at once!”

Albus is apprehensive — had he tried out and only made reserve he would’ve quit and withdrawn his name, never letting anyone in his family know he even attempted for the team. But he gladly celebrates with Scorpius.

It isn’t even until the end of term that Scorpius finally gets to play. It had been nearly a whole year of Albus decking himself in Slytherin gear just to sit alone in the stands. He would cheer and wave at his boyfriend who was always sat on the bench where he’d sit the whole game giddily, just happy to be included.

One of the Slytherin chasers had broken a leg in a nasty fall during the last match and had been instructed to sit out for the next one. That meant it was finally Scorpius’ chance to shine. Albus hadn’t confessed how nervous he was for the blond boy earlier that day at breakfast. He knew Scorpius wasn’t all that nimble — he had nearly grown another three inches within the last few months, and he could never quite adjust to the length of his limbs in time for them to grow again. He also had a tendency to get distracted… But Albus hadn’t wanted to put a damper on Scorpius’ excitement so he had kept his mouth shut.

Scorpius rambled on and on about how ready he was and how much he had been training for this moment from the minute they left the breakfast table and all the way down to the pitch that had slowly begun filling with students.

Albus bid him goodbye at the changing room doors, and with a good luck kiss to the cheek he was off to be the worry-some boyfriend in the stands.

The match seems to be going fine for the most part, Scorpius is able to score a few goals and Albus is sure his throat will rip out from how eagerly he cheers for him. But unfortunately his hard work is still nothing compared to how many goals the Hufflepuff chasers are able to score. Albus thinks they might actually make it through the match without any issues until suddenly one of the Hufflepuff beaters is being thrown off his broom and straight into Scorpius.

Albus’ stomach falls as he watches his boyfriends head of white blond hair plummeting towards the pitch, his broom shooting off towards the opposite stands. He had never shot up from his seat and ran towards the stairs so fast. His heart was hammering in his chest both from the exertion of running, which he didn’t do often, as well as panic for his boyfriend's safety.

He hears shouts as he darts across the pitch to where professors and players have swarmed around the Hufflepuff beater and Scorpius.

The beater is holding his arm and groaning as the nurse mutters about him. Albus’ eyes finally land on Scorpius expecting the worst. Surely bones are broken, he’ll probably be weary of ever getting on a broom again, let alone going up high — it was probably over a hundred and fifty feet that he had just fallen.

But there Scorpius was, sitting up in the grass with the same beaming grin on his face that he had the day the teams were announced.

“Albus!” He shouted as his boyfriend came into view, “Did you see that? Wasn’t that wicked?”

Albus couldn’t wipe the petrified look off his own face as he fell to his knees next to Scorpius, his hands going to Scorpius’ shoulders and then to his face, holding him tenderly.

“You’re alright?”

“Of course I am! McGonagall’s wonderful cushion charms! Oh, but I do think I broke my ankle!” He said cheerfully as if he had been offered sweets

Albus’ eyes glanced down at Scorpius’ foot that was twisted in an unnatural direction. Albus cringed, his stomach turning uncomfortably at the sight. He quickly turned back to face his boyfriend. His cheerful attitude had not been when he was expecting at all. He was far too perky for the situation he had found himself in.

“I’ve always wanted to have a cool quidditch story to tell!” Scorpius explained, only wincing slightly as he shifted his leg before his grin returned, “and now I’ve got one.”

Albus shook his head, still clutching Scorpius’ face, “You idiot, I thought you had died or something!”

Scorpius just laughed and the sound filled Albus’ chest with warmth. He was unable to keep the fond smile from cropping up on his face.

Later, towards the very end of term, when the couple was laid in bed together, the curtains drawn tight so their dormmates didn’t eavesdrop, Scorpius confessed something to Albus.

“I don’t think I’m going to try out for the quidditch team next year,” he admitted quietly.

Albus furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Scorpius had seemed to love being on the team, even though he had only truly played one game. He still raved about his mighty fall and kept the proud letters from his father about making the team.

“Why not? I thought you loved it. And next year you’ll have an even better chance making an actual position,” Albus inquired. Granted, he would secretly be glad he wouldn’t have to wake up early on the weekends for game days anymore. But seeing Scorpius eagerly engaged with something was more important than getting a few extra hours of shut-eye.

“I dunno. I don’t think it’s for me,” Scorpius sighed. “I was pleased to make the team, and now I have a story to tell, but I think next year I want to focus on me things.”

Albus still couldn’t understand. Scorpius’ attitude towards quidditch all year would never have led Albus to predict this conversation. Scorpius had checked out every possible book on quidditch from the library and had whole notebooks full of notes on moves and players.

“Has the team been bullying you? Are they saying stuff?” Albus wondered.

Initially there had been a few hard-headed responses, saying Scorpius didn’t deserve to be on the team due to last year’s fiasco, and the rumors that hadn’t truly died about him being Voldemort's son. But they had quickly died off after a few curt threats from Albus himself.

“No, no, no! They've all been great,” Scorpius assured. “I just think… maybe I’m not a quidditch guy, you know? I had my fun. I think it’s time to move on.”

Albus knew what he meant, neither of them were quidditch guys. He had thought that last year when Scorpius had first mentioned wanting to try out for the team. But he had always been sure to support Scorpius in what he wanted. He had made a promise of that when he had made a promise to Scorpius to not be so self centered.

“You know I’ll support you in anything,” Albus assured, “But why don’t you think this over during the summer? I don’t want you to regret it.”

Scorpius hummed and pulled Albus closer — it would be the last night they got to share a bed for a little while, as tomorrow they were to board the Hogwarts Express to head home for the summer holidays. “I don’t think I need to. I’ve made up my mind.”

[huckleberrykai]

choi yeonjun ~ dance with me

pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader summary: trying to confess to your dance class partner on valentines day is more overwhelming than you originally thought. genre: college au, confession, pretty fluffy, soft dance partner yeonjun :') warnings: none! word count: 1.6k click here for my masterlist!

"hi!"

"oh, hey Y/N!" yeonjun turned to see you behind him, holding a singular rose. "are you- do you need something?" he asked.

it was valentines day, and you were determined to finally ask out the cute guy in your dance class. you got paired up a lot, both being the top of your class - you often did demonstrations together since you worked together so naturally.

"yes actually, i.. i just wanted to-"

"Y/N! i need you to come help yunjin with the choreography from last week, she's struggling. be a dear and give her a hand," you professor cut you off. you sighed, "sure, i'm on my way!" you replied.

"did you want to say something?" the gorgeous boy in front of you stole your attention again and tilted his head to the side, a curious glint in his eye. damn, he was beautiful. and intimidating. your earlier confidence had shattered thanks to your ill-timed professor - and now he was looking at you with his pretty chocolatey eyes and pouty lips...

"uh no! well yes, but i'll talk to you later - see you in class!"

he didn't even get a chance to respond before you bolted to yunjin's practice room, carelessly dropping the rose in your hand on the hardwood floor and leaving in a flash. his eyebrows furrowed as he lifted it off the ground, were you going to give this to him?

his eyes followed your hurried figure until you were out of the room.

truth is, yeonjun had liked you from the moment he first saw you dance. you inspired him a lot, and the way you moved to the music completely entranced him. your cute exterior and snarky personality just drew him in all the more - he loved to fight with you playfully, and he loved it even more when he could dance with you. oh, how he wished this flower really was for him.

he shook away his fantasies as he tucked it in his bag to return to you later.

when your class began an hour later, you seemed stiff as your professor announced you'd be doing partner work again today. you'd be practising the waltz, and of course, you were paired with yeonjun. usually you'd be happy with this, he was best matched to your ability and dancing style after all, but after making a fool of yourself this morning you'd rather not have to explain yourself.

he didn't pry, but he thought you definitely seemed more uncomfortable than usual. your dancing was still perfect, but you weren't talking to him or sending him a snarky comment as you usually would.

you did a full run-through of your choreography, and at the end he dipped you softly in his strong arms and gave you a warm smile that felt like a hundred sunbeams piercing your heart. his fingertips felt like electric shocks on your waist, brushing the gap of skin when your shirt had ridden up during your movements.

feeling suffocated by his presence, you stepped back, nearly stumbling on your own feet. "woah Y/N are you okay? you don't seem yourself."

he noticed the muscles in your neck bob as you gulped. "yeah, i think i just need some water." before you could stop him, he ran to grab his water bottle and offered it to you, "take your time. do you want me to ask the professor if you can go home?" you shook your head no. you were fine, just flustered.

you felt like a middle schooler as you peered down at his blue water bottle, cool in your hands. if you drank from this, wouldn't it be like an indirect kiss?

"you can drink it, i can always refill it."

he thought your hesitance was due to you thinking if you took it he'd have none left - so he reassured you that it was okay. he'd rather his cute dance partner not die on him, even if it meant a visit to the water fountain.

you hesitantly twisted the cap and took a few gulps, feeling your face heat up. this was gonna be a long class...

you survived your dance class, but it wasn't easy.

yeonjun was incredibly attentive the whole time, giving you water and checking in after each rehearsal - still convinced you weren't feeling well. the final nail in the coffin was once class ended and you were packing your bags to leave for your next classes ~

"Y/N!"

each time he said your name it was like he wormed his way into your heart a little further. your breath hitched when he stood in front of you holding the red rose. "you dropped this earlier, i thought you might want it back."

he didn't know it was for him, and he wasn't going to let his delusions get ahead of him if it meant it didn't get to its rightful owner. he didn't know if you were going to give it to someone else or if you'd received it - but either way he hated the idea of you exchanging a rose with someone else. he wasn't selfish though, so he'd give it back to you.

"that's- that's okay." you slung your bag over your shoulder to make a quick escape after what you were about to say. "keep it. it was for you anyway, happy valentines day yeonjun."

his jaw hung open as you essentially bolted out of the room, much like this morning - but this time he was even more confused, and his poor heart was going haywire as he watched your shiny hair swish behind you as you turned the corner.

he couldn't focus for the rest of the day and kept constantly twirling the rose between his fingers instead of actually paying attention to his lectures. he wanted to find you, but he didn't know your schedule. he would have messaged you on your instagram account that he stalked but never actually had the guts to follow, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable - and if he was going to ask you on a date, he wanted to do it in person.

"you don't get it! she's perfect! and she gave me this - well, she dropped it - but when i tried to give it back she said it was for me? fuck, i like her so much and i think she was going to confess? i'm not sure, but i need to find her and ask her on a proper date," he rambled to his friends in the cafeteria. what he failed to notice was you walking by his table, hearing every word he said.

you didn't want to catch his attention, so kept moving on your way to your friend's table, but you couldn't help but feel your stomach do backflips. he liked you? and he was telling his friends? he wanted to aSK YOU ON A DATE??

"how'd it go?" chaewon asked as you sat yourself down in front of her. "horribly. but..." you explained what happened this morning, how you ran out on him twice, then how you heard what he said about 5 minutes ago. "i really like him, i just hope i don't freeze up again next class. he was such a sweetheart, making sure i was okay... ah." you shoved your face in your hands, suddenly feeling embarrassed as you recalled the events of the day.

in your moment of embarrassment, your senses weren't exactly at their best; you only notice there was someone behind you when chaewon started talking to them. "yeonjun right? hi!" she answered for you. "yeah that's me! is it okay if i steal your friend for a second?"

your head shot up and low and behold there was mr. heartstopper right next to your table, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "go ahead," chaewon nodded.

his eyes had been wandering the cafeteria, and as soon as they landed on you he knew he didn't wanna wait another minute. so after a small pep talk and four harsh slaps on his back, his friends pushed him in your direction.

"can i talk to you?" he asked sheepishly when your eyes met. when you agreed he motioned for you to follow him into the adjacent hallway. the buzzing florescent lights made your head spin, not helped by yeonjun gently taking your hand into his large, soft palm. you'd held hands before while dancing, but the quiet hallway and adoring look in his eye made it feel different this time.

"did you mean what you said to your friends?" you rushed.

"huh-? you heard me?" he asked. honestly, you didn't mean to ask him that, but your mouth moved too fast for you to filter your words. you just nodded, cheeks blooming pink, "i walked past when you said... when you said you liked me."

he was just as rosy-cheeked as you as he pulled the rose from his back pocket. "i did," he admitted.

"when- when you tried to give me this this morning, what were you going to tell me?" he asked. "that i like you. i thought valentines day would be a good opportunity to confess, but then.."

"you got called away and it threw you off a little?" he chuckled. you responded with a shy smirk, raising an eyebrow, "you're finishing my sentences already?"

ah, that snarky attitude he loved so much. "of course. now what time should i pick you up for our date later?" you stifled a laugh at him, and his grin only grew when you groaned and shoved your face into his chest, letting go of his hand and snaking your arms around his waist. you breathed in the scent of his cologne as he held you close to him, still gripping onto his rose for dear life.

"seven o'clock." you mumbled into his chest. "and don't be late."

[cozage]

The Meaning of Justice

The Meaning of Justice: Loguetown

You’re a Marine who’s always been taught to trust the process. And you always have, until you meet a certain pirate who won’t stop pestering you to join his crew. 

Next Chapter | All Chapters Characters: Female reader, Strawhat crew, Smoker, Tashigi

Word count: 1k

Cw: Loguetown/East Blue Saga Spoilers

A/N: This is a long one, so hang onto your (straw)hat! I’m actually breaking this up into parts, so welcome to my first installment of this! No strongly-written pairings, but I saw someone do a short hc list of a marine joining crews, and that fueled me to do a deep dive into the Strawhats interacting with a marine, specifically one who is actively being recruited by them. 

--

You had always planned to join the Marines. Both your mother and your father were Marines, and it went without saying that you would follow in their footsteps. But even if you weren’t a legacy child, the call of the Navy was too strong to ignore. You grew up learning that if someone asked for help, you helped them. It didn’t matter who they were or what they looked like, people were always deserving of assistance if they were strong enough to ask for it. You were raised by the sea with people who loved the sea, and you dreamed of the day the white and blue sails would carry you away from your small town and onto your next adventure. Your mother would sit with you on the cliffs by your house, staring off into the horizon fondly. “When you go out to sea…that’s when your life will finally begin.” And she was right, in a way. Just not the way you expected. 

The first time you met Luffy was by happenstance. You were in Loguetown with your division, and it was one of the few days you were off duty. You were planning to do some light shopping, but ended up at the edge of the town square, with hundreds of people crowded around the infamous high rise before you. Gol D. Roger. The King of the Pirates. You still weren’t sure exactly what Roger did to become the notorious King, but he was all any pirate ever wanted to be compared to. 

You were pulled from your thoughts when someone knocked into you from behind. “‘Scuse me.” A wide eyed boy tapped on your shoulder. He had a scar under his eye and a hat with a red ribbon tied around it, and you couldn't help but think how well it suited him. He pointed past you, motioning at the people gathered. “Is this the town square?”

He looked vaguely familiar, though you couldn’t pinpoint why. You were sure you knew his face, but it wasn’t from your hometown, and he didn’t necessarily look like he would be a navy man. 

He waved his hand in front of your face impatiently, breaking your concentration and bringing you back to reality. “Hellooooo? Are you there?”

“Right! Sorry! Yeah, this is the town square.” You smiled at him awkwardly, but he wasn’t looking your way anymore. You followed his gaze to the platform you had been looking at earlier. “And thats-”

“The execution platform of Gol D. Roger!” He shouted, with a large smile across his face. His eyes sparkled like stars looking at the scene before you all. “That’s so cool!”

His excitement was palpable. It just looked like a normal high-rise to you, but this kid looked like he had found the greatest treasure in the world. You still couldn’t shake the fact that you knew him, though, and decided to inquire at the risk of embarrassing yourself further. “This is kind of weird, but you look super familiar. Uh, do I know you?”

He chuckled to himself, and for a second you weren’t sure if he had even heard you. “Nah, but you will!” He took off towards the platform without another word. “My name’s Luffy! Thanks for all your help!” he shouted back to you, never faltering in his race towards the execution place of Gol D. Roger. 

Luffy. Your stomach dropped as the dots connected. Strawhat Luffy. Monkey D. Luffy. The pirate with the 30 million berry bounty on his head. How could you have forgotten him? At least he wasn’t aware that you were a Marine, which gave you more time to act. 

You raced towards the Marine base as fast as your feet would carry you. “Captain Smoker!” You cried out, bursting into his office, gasping slightly for breath. “Pirate in…the town square…Monkey D…Luffy…Roger’s platform.” It wasn’t much of a report, but it was enough. You saw your Captain vanish into thin air, knowing he would fully take care of the situation. You felt bad for betraying a boy who had only treated you kindly, but he was a pirate. The world would be safer with him and his crew behind bars.

But somehow, Strawhat had managed to slip from your Captain’s fingers. You made it to the port just in time to watch him pull out to sea. “HEYYYYYYYY!!!!!” The familiar voice rang out through the wind and the rain of the storm, coming from the ship. “THANKS AGAIN FOR ALL YOUR HELPPPPP!!!!! SEEEEEE YAAAAAA!!!!!!” 

You realized, with a knot in your stomach, the infamous pirate was screaming at you. He still was unaware of your status in the Navy. He still thought you were a random person who had simply given him directions. You stood at the shoreline long after his ship disappeared over the horizon, still hearing the echo of his laugh through the storm.

You gave your official report to the Captain, apologizing profusely for not recognizing the pirate sooner. When the news came that Smoker would be taking an elite team to the Grand Line, you were second at his door to request involvement in the mission. Tashigi was first, and while you all talked, she revealed to also have had a run-in with a member of the Strawhat crew during their time in Loguetown. 

“Roronoa Zoro.” She said the name as if it were a bad taste in her mouth. “He took a cursed sword and was in possession of one of the legendary Great Swords. You know-”

“It’s your dream to collect those!” you finish the sentence for her. You and Tashigi got along well, and she was one of the few Marines who actually took her job seriously. You had a mutual respect for eachother, and you would even consider her a friend at times. 

“Exactly! And that pirate had it instead!” The 21 Great Swords always got Tashigi wound up and on a very long rant, but you never minded it. 

You boarded the boat with 50 others soon after the debrief. The Grand Line was in your sights. Your life was beginning, just like your mother had promised.

[queer-irritator]

Hello! If you'd like could you write kratos and a m!reader who is an ex-soldier or like used to be a general but had to quit due to an injury

Thank you:)

Hi! Thank you for being my first request 🥹

I really like this idea, you know they would be bonding over the traumas of war.

GoW: Ragnarok Spoilers below. Not proofread

MINORS DNI

Kratos x M! Reader

"I want to thank you for everything..."

Timeline is set a bit after GoW:R; Kratos is an empty-nester.

Content Warnings: Adult language, butchering, most likely inaccurate geography and history of Greenland, alcohol, smut, blowjob, facefucking, praising.

Word Count: 2,476

You lead thousands of men through successful battles.

You saw hundreds of men lay down their lives in the name of freedom.

You would do whatever it takes to ensure victory.

But that was in your past.

A few years ago you honorably discharged from your status of General. After being tortured by some fascist dickheads, you developed hearing problems from ice picks being jammed in your ear. It left you with constant ringing in your head, sometimes so loud you couldn't hear anything else.

You always assumed you would die on the battlefield along side your soldiers. Never thinking about leaving the army or your men behind. But when you could no longer hear footsteps approaching you, or the distant yells from soldiers, you knew your presence would only end up getting others killed. You made sure your men were left being led by the next most capable person.

Since then you've been traveling.

You saw North and South America, Africa, and now you were exploring Europe. Desperate to get a change from the heat, you decided to come in the dead of winter. Now that you were actually here, you regret it a little bit.

You were currently in the north-east, about a two days hike from the ocean. You settled in some woods, you desperately needed to catch some food. You had set up your tent and were adding fuel to a small fire you made. You unpacked a bow and arrow you had in a satchel and started to look for animal tracks.

----

Kratos was butchering a deer he caught earlier that day. His mind was going over how to prepare the meat for dinner.

The faint smell of smoke ripped his attention away from his current task. He looked to the horizon and saw a thin column of smoke splitting the blue sky that was starting to turn purple in two.

He grumbled to himself.

He was hungry, he just wanted to eat and rest. But he couldn't ignore the possibility of a threat. He stuck the knife in his hand into the wooden butcher table he was working on. He bent over to pick up his axe and headed in the direction of the smoke.

----

You were following some rabbit tracks, crouched low to the ground and moving slowly forward. You needed to rely on your eyes more than your ears nowadays, which wasn't as effective. The distant sound of rustling bushes ripped your attention away from the tracks as you aimed your arrow towards the sound.

There was a large a few feet away from you.

"Can I help you?" You questioned the him with sarcasm in your voice.

"You are trespassing in my home." The man had the deepest voice you've ever heard.

You glanced around, you hadn't noticed any signs of this being someone's house. You lowered your bow and stood up.

"I didn't realize. I'm just trying to get some food and sleep, I'll be gone before the sun is up." You explained to him.

Kratos grumbled slightly.

You knew this type of man. He wasn't the type to let things slide, or give a stranger a place to stay. At least without something in return.

"How about you let me stay, and I'll cook you some rabbit." You bargained.

"I have a deer." The man retorted.

Shit... you were going to have to go for the low blow.

"Well, I served as a General for 15 years, but I'm just trying to enjoy retirement now." You were hoping he wouldn't deny an army man a place to spend the night.

"As am I." He crossed his arms.

"No shit?" You questioned him. Maybe you could use this to secure your spot in the woods.

"I was a General for southern Grœnland." You opened up a little bit, hoping the man would return the favor. But you were just met with a blank stare.

"I lead the war against barbarian invaders... What about you?" You prodded at the man.

"Hm..." The man grunted, "I am from a land called Sparta."

"Cool..." You've never heard of such a place, but that was besides the point.

"I'm (y/n)." You took a few steps forward, holding out your arm as a sign of peace.

Kratos looked at your hand for a few moments, then gripped your forearm.

"Kratos." he announced his name as he looked you in the eyes and gave you a nod.

You nodded back to him as you returned your hand to your side.

"You said you have deer..?" You questioned Kratos.

----

Kratos had invited you to eat with him. On the walk to his house you explained that you sucked at hunting because of your ringing ears. He seemed to empathise with you slightly.

Kratos had tasked you with heating up a pan on the fire pit inside his house while he finished butchering the deer.

You couldn't help but notice the extra bed in his home, reasons as to why scattered through your mind.

You were pulled away from your thoughts when the door opened, the outline of Kratos was approaching you. He laid down a few fillets of meat in the pan and lit some candles in the house.

You watched his every movement, admiring the muscles and contours of his back. He grabbed a bottle and two cups. He set them down on a small table in the middle of the cabin and filled two cups with a dark, amber liquid.

You turned your attention to the pan and flipped over the meat, watching it carefully so it didn't burn. Kratos noticed this, he was always taught to be a good host growing up in Sparta.

"Come sit." He instructed you, walking over to the fire and taking over the cooking duties. You nodded at him, stood up and sat at the table. You inspected the liquid in your cup and gave it a sniff.

Alcohol. Very strong alcohol, is what was infiltrating your nostrils. You set the cup down just as Kratos was walking over to the table and served you dinner.

----

The two of you shared stories as your times as General. It was mostly you, at first, but then Kratos started to open up with time. When Kratos spoke, it was like he hypnotized you. All you could do was rotate staring at his eyes, mouth, and chest. He was incredibly handsome. Kratos also didn't let your darting eyes go unnoticed, but neglected to draw attention to it.

Dinner was over all too quickly for your liking. You took the last sip of your drink, feeling some slight effects of the alcohol. Just enough to give you some bravery.

"I want to thank you for everything." You started to speak as you stood up from your seat.

"There is no need..." Kratos assured you, but his eyes followed your every move.

You shook your head slightly, "Wouldn't feel right about taking up your resources without thanks." You made your way Kratos, blood already travelling south by thinking of what you were about to do.

You kneeled down beside Kratos and tugged his chair to the side so he was facing you. Kratos was silent, his amber eyes boring into yours. You reached your hands up to his belt and started to work on taking it off. It was quite a bit more complicated than it looked, but you got it off without too much trouble. You were met with another layer of fabric, gods, why did this man have 5 different layers covering his dick? Your brows furrowed slightly in annoyance at the fabric, but was soon down to just his pants. You looked up at him to gauge how he was feeling, because he wasn't hard... yet.

"This okay?" You asked him, your voice slightly lower than before.

Kratos hadn't been involved with anyone since Faye. He hasn't been involved with another man since his time running around Greece and Athens on a path of vengeance.

He let out a breath, "Yes."

He didn't think he had ever seen a man as breathtaking as you before. Your (h/c) hair made him want to run his hands through it, your (e/c) eyes made him want to get lost in them for days. And your smile, he'd only seen it a handful of times but it made his heart palpitate each time.

With his go-ahead, you pulled his pants down a few inches and wrapped your hand around his cock, taking it out.

Fuck, he was big. You started to stroke him and scooted closer to his crotch. You could feel him start to get hard in your hand, so you mentally prepared yourself and took him in your mouth. You heard Kratos' voice hitch in the slightest when your warm mouth was around him. About half of him fit in your mouth comfortably, but you weren't opposed to slight discomfort.

With one hand you pulled his pants down further so you could have more access. You began to massage his balls softly, earning the quietest moan from the Spartan. His cock was rock hard by now, so you took more of him in your mouth and didn't stop until your lips were met with the tickle of hair. You began to bob your head up and down.

Kratos ran his fingers through your hair with a pleased grunt, gripping onto some of your locks at the back of your head. You moaned around his length from the feeling of your hair being tugged slightly. Kratos stood from his seat and began to rock his hips into your mouth. Your hands went up to grip his thighs and opened your mouth slightly larger. Kratos took this opportunity to slightly tighten his grip on you and began to thrust himself in and out of your mouth. You took him surprisingly well, relaxing your jaw to let him fuck your throat. You looked up at Kratos and he was watching the obscene sight before him. He locked eyes with him and picked up his speed, feeling his orgasm beginning to build up. You took back control by placing your hands on his hips, stilling him. Creating some suction around his cock, you began to bob your head quickly along his length.

When you heard a moan escape Kratos' lips you pulled away from him, out of breath. Kratos only needed a few more seconds and he would have been cumming. He looked down at you with furrowed brows. You stood up and took off your shirt.

"Get on the bed." You instructed him. Your cock was aching from the lack of attention. You watched as Kratos discarded his pants that were around his ankles and walk to his bed, getting a beautiful view of his ass.

"Hands and knees." You clarified for him. A low grumble met your ears as you stripped off the rest of your clothes. You walked towards the bed and took in the beautiful sight of Kratos' ass in the air, waiting for you. You climbed on the bed with him and positioned yourself behind him. You took your cock in your hand and spread the precum that was leaking from it on Kratos' tight hole. You wet your fingers generously with saliva and pushed a finger inside him. Kratos shifted beneath you with the new feeling.

"You're okay, baby." You assured him, using your other hand to rub a small circle on his lower back. Kratos was glad you couldn't see him because he was sure his cheeks had gone pink.

You worked your finger in and out of him slowly to get him ready, adding a second finger when he was ready. You curled your fingers up slightly in attempt to find his prostate. You soon felt something rigged and a groan escaped Kratos' lips as he pressed his ass against your fingers.

"Mmh," You hummed in amusement, "Good boy." You withdrew your fingers from him and used some more spit to coat your dick. You pressed the tip of your aching cock against Kratos' entrance, grinding yourself against his skin.

This made Kratos groan in annoyance, "(y/n)." He said with a warning tone.

"Alright, alright..." You decided to end his anticipation and slowly entered him, moaning.

"Fuck." You muttered, gripping onto his hips as you filled him with your length.

"So fucking tight." You gripped his hips harder to keep from slamming into him. You slowly pulled out half way before pushing back into him, hearing a muffled moan from Kratos. Hearing him like this made your cock twitch inside of him.

"So fucking beautiful." You praised him as you set a slow rocking rhythm. You were slowly picking up your speed, pulling Krato's hips flush against you each time you fucked him.

Mumblings of praises and 'fuck''s escaped your mouth, an occasional moan Kratos couldn't suppress came out as well. By now you were snapping your hips against Kratos as fast as you could, making small adjustments to your angle until-

The loudest moan so far came out of Kratos, if you could get any harder, you would've at that moment. You held his hips in place as you repeatedly brushed against his prostate.

"C'mon baby." You coaxed him along as you reached a hand around him and jerked him off in time with your thrusts.

"Cum for me, Kratos." Your other hand was digging into the side of his ass, there would surely be bruises left behind.

You felt Kratos' muscles tense slightly beneath you as he groaned, his orgasm reaching it's peak and cum spilling out of his cock.

The feeling of Krato's walls clenching around you set you over the edge.

"Fuck..." You hissed as your thrusts became sloppy and you were spilling your seed inside of Kratos, still pumping his cock.

You moaned through your orgasms and braced yourself up with your hands on Kratos' shoulders. You stilled yourself inside him, leaning over him and panting. After taking a few seconds to catch your breath, you straightened out your back and slowly pulled out, watching your cum spill out of Kratos.

You reached for a random rag nearby and gently cleaned up what spilled out of him. You tossed the dirty rag to the side and laid down beside Kratos, who had shifted to his side, back facing you. You let out a content sigh as turned on your side to spoon Kratos, draping an arm across his waist.

"Gonna sleep here tonight, if that's okay." You asked, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

"Mh." Kratos replied. You took it as a 'Sure'.

You closed your eyes, thoroughly exhausted. This stoic, grumpy, strong man had come undone by your touch. Maybe you would stay here for a few days so he could return the favor.

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC's Lucien Binding Knot Date English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

She told me that a person's life is too short. In the blink of an eye, it's five years, and then another blink, it's ten years.

That's how she and her husband lived their lives, bickering and muddling through, and they ended up spending their whole lifetime together.

Looking back, the bumps in the road and trivial matters along the way don't hold much significance compared to being able to harmoniously live together for a lifetime.

Translation under the cut~

[Notes from Lux: Here's the CN video link if anyone want to follow along his Voice Acting. VERY recommended to re-read S1 chapter 9 and his Chinese Wedding SP Bound By Love/A Love Not in Vain because this date specifically references these two stories. AND perhaps Sacred Mountain Date regarding his belief in God(s)]

-

[Part 1]

Lucien: Today is Saturday. Didn't we agree not to work?

Lucien places a bowl of freshly washed blueberries on the coffee table and casually feeds me a few. I sit on the sofa, engrossed in the documents on my laptop.

MC: Kiki has sorted the photography registration form; I need to quickly finish reviewing it so that I can contact them earlier.

Recently, our company launched a charity project called "Taking Family Portraits for One Hundred Elderly People." After the announcement was made, we received dozens of registration forms in just two days.

MC: By the way, Lucien, if any professors from Loveland University are interested in this project, you can invite them as well.

MC: We've rented the best photography studio, and the photographers are top-notch, so you can rest assured about the photo quality.

Lucien: With so many people applying, I think we should try to avoid giving slots to people we know, right?

MC: Don't worry. Even though we're promoting it as a hundred people externally, we've discussed it internally and will try to accommodate as many as possible.

MC: We're willing to help strangers, let alone the people we know.

Lucien: In that case... I do have an idea.

Lucien points to the peace knot hanging on my wall- a knot that Grandma Wen taught me to weave, and it still hangs on one side of Lucien's bookshelf.

MC: Are you talking about Grandma Wen?

Grandma Wen is an elderly person who lives alone. Lucien and I have a close relationship with her. We've learned how to weave knots from her and even borrowed wedding attire. So, we visit her whenever we have free time.

She is also very hospitable to us, always arranging snacks for us to enjoy. She also advises us young people not to focus only on work but to remember to take care of ourselves.

MC: Actually, I did consider inviting her at first, but Grandma Wen's husband has already passed away, and having her take a family portrait alone might be a bit…

Lucien: Are you worried that it might make her uncomfortable?

Seeing me nod, Lucien leans back on the sofa, tilts his head, and smiles slightly.

Lucien: [chuckles] I think she won't mind at all.

Lucien: How about we ask her? One never knows.

After a lengthy discussion, we decided to call Grandma Wen. I carefully choose my words and extend the invitation, but Grandma Wen laughs heartily and readily accepts.

We finalize the shooting schedule. Lucien and I will pick her up together when the time comes.

However, Grandma Wen suggests she'd like to bring her cat, Baby, along for the photoshoot.

-

[Part 2]

On the agreed-upon morning, we arrive punctually at Grandma Wen's doorstep. While Lucien parks the car, I take the initiative to go and knock on the door.

The black-and-white spotted little cat lies under the eaves, rolling around playfully and occasionally pawing at something in the air, looking quite content.

MC: Baby~ Come here kitty for a hug~

But the little kitty pays no attention to me, completely engrossed in rolling on the ground. It rolls several times and ends up a meter away from me.

Lucien: (gently calls the kitty) Baby, come here.

Just as Lucien approaches, Baby suddenly gets up, takes two steps, and runs to Lucien's feet. It raises its paw and paw at the cuff of Lucien's pants, meowing incessantly.

MC: That's quite a contrast in treatment!

MC: Although I've played with it plenty of times before, it still prefers you. That's unfair!

Lucien lowers his gaze and sighs at the cat.

Lucien: [chuckles] You see, I didn't do anything, but she's angry just because you like me more.

Lucien: If you could talk, I'm sure you'd also think this is even more unfair to me, right?

Lucien crouches down and strokes the cat's head, using his fingers to rub its cheek gently.

Lucien: Please remember to be a little more coquettish with her later. Otherwise, I'll be in a tough spot.

MC: ...Hmph, you're not in a tough spot at all!

Lucien can't resist laughing and takes out a sealed bag of cat treats from his pocket, feeding them to Baby.

Lucien: Baby is actually relatively easy to please. Just give it some treats a few more times, and it will be circling around you.

Grandma Wen: MC, you're here…

I turn around and see that Grandma Wen is already standing at the door.

MC: Grandma! You look so beautiful today!

Grandma Wen is wearing a short jacket with a standing collar and a diagonal button today. It's evident at a glance that the craftsmanship is exquisite.

The satin fabric is smooth and lustrous, while the embroidery is lifelike with intricate stitching.

Grandma Wen sheepishly waves her hand.

Grandma Wen: These are old clothes I haven't worn in seven or eight years. It's rare that I've taken them out.

MC: Old clothes? I can't tell. They look just like new…

MC: Is the embroidery on the hem here the Lotus Pond? Each lotus is transitioned with several colors... It's really beautiful!

MC: Did you embroider this yourself, Grandma?

Grandma Wen touches the hem, smoothing the embroidered threads of the lotus leaves.

Grandma Wen: My husband made this for me when he was still alive.

Grandma Wen: From pattern drafting to embroidery, he did every step himself, insisting that his craftsmanship was better than mine.

Grandma Wen: These embroideries used to be even more beautiful, but unfortunately, the thread colors have faded over time.

MC: I can't tell that the thread colors have faded. I think it looks incredibly beautiful.

MC: Your complexion looks great today. When it's time for the photo shoot, we'll have a hairstylist do your hair. We must create a hairstyle that compliments this dress perfectly.

Lucien walks over carrying a cat carrier and lets Grandma Wen check Baby's condition.

Lucien: I used some cat treats to coax it into the carrier, and it didn't make any fuss and was very well-behaved.

Grandma Wen: Baby~ Baby, today we're going out for a photoshoot. After we get in the car, you must be good and not cause any trouble for your brothers and sisters, okay?

Grandma Wen claps her hands toward the cat inside the carrier, and Baby starts to scratch the carrier, about to meow. But Lucien offers a cat treat, and it immediately quiets down.

I give Lucien a thumbs up - only he can do it.

Lucien: How about you sit in the back with Grandma Wen later? If Baby wants to come out, you can feed it some cat treats.

MC: Mm, no problem~

Grandma Wen: Is it time to leave? Let me grab a few things.

Grandma Wen goes back inside and returns with a Chángshān covered in a dustproof cover. I have a vague idea of who the owner of this robe might be.

Grandma Wen: I made this Chángshān for my husband when I was young. It was his favorite outfit. I'll bring it along for the photoshoot. So, it's as if he's also accompanying me.

Lucien takes a half step forward, probably thinking that the gown in the bag is not light and wanting to help Grandma Wen get it into the car. However, when he catches my gaze, he takes a step back.

Lucien: Let's get in the car, Grandma.

Lucien opens both car doors, assists Grandma Wen into the car, helps her fasten the seatbelt, and then checks that the cat carrier on my lap is secure before closing the car doors.

-

[Part 3]

After arriving at the photography studio, the makeup artist has to apply makeup and do the hair for Grandma Wen.

I'm worried that Grandma Wen might hesitate to communicate her needs with the makeup artist, so I am constantly accompanying her, talking to her, and helping her with her makeup.

Lucien is responsible for taking care of Baby, who starts running around as soon as they enter the photography studio.

Grandma Wen: When we first found Baby in the wild, it was only as big as the palm of a human hand. I made a nest for it with a towel, and it slept under the dining table.

Grandma Wen: In the blink of an eye, it has grown so big.

Grandma Wen: When it was little, it wasn't this mischievous. It used to lie in the corner every day obediently and didn't let anyone approach. As soon as someone got close, it would run away.

Grandma Wen: Now, it plays with birds, teases dogs, and does all sorts of daring things. There's nothing it's afraid to do.

Grandma Wen gently squeezes my hand and says.

Grandma Wen: You should go outside and take a look. It's not easy for Professor Lucien to keep an eye on Baby all by himself. There are machines everywhere here. Don't let that smelly cat cause any trouble for you.

I nod and walk out of the makeup room.

In the living room of the photography studio, there is a bright lounge area. Lucien is holding a cat teaser toy, playing with Baby as it pounces back and forth on the sofa.

MC: You even brought a cat teaser wand?

Lucien: Not just that, I also have a cat jingle bell ball and a laser pointer in the trunk.

Lucien: I consulted my colleagues who have pets, and they said that if you want your pets to behave well for photos, you need to let them play for a good hour beforehand.

Lucien: Once they get tired from playing, they can cooperate more.

I walk over and sit down on the sofa, gently petting Baby's head. It doesn't resist and tilts its head up, allowing me to scratch its chin.

Lucien finds a moment to rest and casually picks up a book from the bookshelf, leaning back on the sofa.

MC: (smiles) It seems like this method is working. It's already behaving quite well now.

Lucien: It's probably just temporarily tired from playing. After a short rest, it will be jumping around again.

Lucien: After all, it's the most mischievous kitten I've ever seen.

Lucien gently taps the top of the Baby's head, and the kitten raises its front paw, quickly grabbing his finger.

Lucien: It climbs trees, catches birds, and even fights with stray cats... When it's full of energy, there's no stopping it.

I recall not too long ago when Baby went missing again. When we found it, it was in the middle of a fight with a stray cat outside, and its face was scratched up.

We were afraid that Grandma Wen would worry if she saw its condition, so we didn't return it directly. Instead, we told her that we were taking it to the hospital for a check-up and would bring it back once it recovered.

MC: (smiles softly) Do you remember what you said the last time we took Baby to the hospital?

Lucien: Hm?

MC: You said that despite its many escapades, Grandma Wen never considered keeping it indoors and always let it go out to play.

Lucien: I remember, if it were up to me, I wouldn't let this little cat run wild everywhere.

I pick up the cat teaser toy and start playing with the little cat, swinging it on and off.

MC: As soon as we mentioned taking a family photo, Grandma Wen immediately thought of bringing the cat along.

MC: It's clear that in Grandma Wen's heart, it's her most important family member.

MC: That's how it is among family members. No matter how worried or concerned we are, we still want the other person to be happy and do what they want to do.

Lucien: ….Our Great Producer has something to say and found a good way to start the conversation.

Noticing that I had a hidden agenda, Lucien had already guessed what it was.

Lucien: Grandma Wen already told you, didn't she?

MC: Right before the makeup session, Grandma Wen pulled me aside in a corner to talk.

MC: She said that you've been to the Matchmaker's Temple alone several times before and also visited her along the way.

I sigh meaningfully.

MC: Professor Lucien, have you encountered a problem that materialism* can't solve?

-

[T/N: Materialism in this context is more of a philosophical belief that only physical matter exists and that everything can be explained through the physical world and natural laws.]

-

Lucien leans back leisurely on the sofa, wearing only a light smile.

Baby rolls over under his palm, purring contentedly.

Lucien: Gods don't solve problems. I'm a researcher, and I still have to uphold certain principles.

Lucien: But when it comes to matters of the heart, it's just too complicated... variables abound, and there's no optimal solution.

Lucien: So, I often wonder if a certain little fool occasionally worries about me or gets angry for me. Is it because I haven't done well enough?

He lifts the corner of his eyebrows, seeming not to be troubled by this matter, just candidly sharing his feelings.

The unbridled sunlight streams through the curtains, illuminating the tenderness in his eyes with exceptional clarity.

Lucien: Questions without answers are better left to metaphysics.

Lucien: Even if the problem doesn't get solved, you can still find some comfort in it to some extent.

As Lucien speaks, he no longer plays with Baby. The cat feels neglected and keeps nudging Lucien's palm with its head.

I stroke its fluffy head and realize that it's been a very long time since the first time I saw this cat with Lucien in the wheat field.

Some things probably don't have answers in either science or metaphysics; the experiences of life are what will eventually reveal the truth.

MC: Lucien, do you know what Grandma Wen just said to me?

Lucien: Tell me.

MC: She told me that a person's life is too short. In the blink of an eye, it's five years, and then another blink, it's ten years.

MC: That's how she and her husband lived their lives, bickering and muddling through, and they ended up spending their whole lifetime together.

MC: Looking back, the bumps in the road and trivial matters along the way don't hold much significance compared to being able to harmoniously live together for a lifetime.

Lucien straightens up, seeing that there's no one around, and then suddenly leans down to place a kiss on my forehead.

The warm sunshine reflects in his eyes as he looks at me. He smiles a little and casually picks up the kitty, holding it in his arms as if nothing happened.

Lucien: Grandma Wen is right.

-

[Part 4]

After the lighting technician adjusts the lighting, Lucien and I stand in the corner of the photography studio.

Grandma Wen sits on the mahogany bench, spreading her husband's Chángshān flat across her lap. The photographer holds Baby and places it on the Chángshān.

The naturally mischievous cat is being incredibly well-behaved at this moment. No matter how the photographer handles it, it's willing to cooperate and even knows how to look at the camera.

Photographer: Grandma, please reach out your hand and gently touch the cat's head—yes, that's right, just a natural touch will do.

Photographer: This cat is so well-behaved, cooperative and calm.

Grandma Wen: Good Baby, I'll make you some fish to eat when we get back tonight.

Photographer: Grandma, let's maintain this pose and take two more shots.

Lucien gazes at the scene before him, momentarily lost in thought.

Lucien: From the first time we entered her house, I noticed that there were no photos of her and her husband displayed in her home.

Lucien: Upon careful inquiry, I discovered that they had indeed never taken any photos together.

Lucien: ...Two people spending a lifetime together is something worth commemorating. They should have had a photo together.

After he says that, he turns his head slightly and whispers in my ear.

Lucien: Thanks to the producer's help, at least Grandma Wen has a family portrait now, regardless of the circumstances.

For a moment, I'm unsure of what to say.

He's truly humble for someone who has doubted his understanding of love.

—--------------------------------------------------------

After the shoot, Lucien and I accompanied Grandma Wen back the same way we came.

Grandma Wen: Stay for dinner. You two don't be so polite…

Grandma Wen: I feel bad that both of you have been busy all day. Having a meal together is no big deal, just a few extra pairs of chopsticks.

We don't want her to have to deal with cooking after a long day of photoshoots, so we politely decline.

Lucien: Grandma, it's still early. MC and I plan to visit the Matchmaker Temple, so we won't stay.

Lucien: You've had a long day today. Remember to rest well.

MC: Yes, Grandma. After the photos are developed, I'll bring them to you right away. We'll have the meal you promised then.

Grandma Wen didn't insist on keeping us any longer, but she promised that the next time we visit, we must stay for a meal. We quickly nodded in agreement.

—--------------------------------------------------------

On the way to the Matchmaker Temple, the sun gradually sets, casting a beautiful array of evening colors between the trees and stone steps. It's hard for anyone walking through this scenery not to feel relaxed.

MC: It's quite rare for this place to be this peaceful.

Lucien: Festivals have yet to happen recently, so there are very few tourists. The Matchmaker God can take a break too.

MC: With no incense burning at the Matchmaker Temple, does it mean that everyone hasn't been facing relationship difficulties? It seems like a good thing, doesn't it?

Lucien: (shushes and whispers) Shhh... with a troubling view like that, you might upset the Matchmaker God. Be careful not to displease him.

I can't help but laugh at his teasing, and I also find his words reasonable. I quickly pull Lucien to pay respects to the Matchmaker and offer incense.

I hope that the Matchmaker is understanding and doesn't take my words to heart.

After offering incense and making a donation, Lucien and I found a couple of chairs inside the temple and sat down. We plan to watch the sunset for a while and leave when the temple closes.

The faint scent of sandalwood here blends with the natural aroma of the forest, creating a tranquil and enduring atmosphere that instantly soothes the heart. I lean closer to Lucien and ask softly.

MC: Lucien, what wishes did you make when you came here alone before? Have any of them come true?

Lucien bends slightly, brushing away a cluster of dandelion seeds that accidentally caught onto his shirt cuff. He then leisurely curves his lips into a smile.

Lucien: I don't even remember the specific wishes I made anymore.

Lucien: They were probably just about small things, like planning to meet up but then having something come up at the research institute, causing me to break the appointment.

Lucien: Another example is when I promise to sleep well, but then accidentally stay up for a few nights and get caught by you.

Lucien: (laughs softly)....

Lucien: Now that I think about it, they were indeed all trivial matters, and you've always been very understanding.

Lucien lifts his gaze, meeting my eyes.

Lucien: Although we quickly forget these minor disagreements.

Lucien: But occasionally, I do pay attention to these little disagreements that fill our lives. After all, even the smallest things have their own meaning.

I can't help but let my lips curl up slowly, and Lucien lifts his chin, revealing a somewhat helpless expression.

Lucien: It's evident that the Great Producer is very pleased with my introspection.

MC: …..Pfft, not exactly 'very'.

MC: I'm just marveling at how Professor Lucien sets such astonishingly high standards for himself.

MC: It seems like I don't reflect on my actions much when I make you angry... But from today on, I'll try to change that.

Lucien: [chuckles] It's okay.

Lucien changes the topic, and a smile spreads in his eyes.

Lucien: Now that I think about it, these little bumps and trivial matters aren't really that important.

He takes a knot from his pocket and hands it to me. The way the knot is tied resembles the peace knot that Grandma Wen had taught me before, but the weaving method seems more intricate.

Lucien: This is a knot that Grandma Wen taught me to weave as a special thank you for us.

Lucien: She also said that the name of this knot is yí shì yíjiā (宜室宜家).

Lucien: Today, it seems like I have a clearer understanding of the meaning of this word.

-

[T/N: 宜室宜家 is a Chinese idiom that means "live harmoniously; make a harmonious and orderly home." It is often used as a congratulatory message on a wedding. The idiom comes from a line in the poem "Tao Yao" in the Book of Songs, which reads, "之子于归，宜其室家" (the son is returning home, where he should live harmoniously with his wife and make a harmonious and orderly home). And it fits with the date theme of living harmoniously together for a lifetime despite all the small bumps🥺.]

-

Suddenly, my heart feels soft, and I take a small step closer to Lucien's shoulder. I pick up my phone and open the front camera.

I put both of us in the frame.

The setting sun casts a gentle glow behind us, and the breeze is light, creating a tranquil and beautiful atmosphere.

MC: The sunset today looks beautiful. Let's take a photo together.

MC: 3, 2, 1–

My trailing voice fades away in the warm breath as Lucien lowers his head and kisses me.

----------------------------------------------------------

[Bonus Call - "Family Portrait"]

Lucien: Hello, it's me. I have some good news to tell you.

MC: What is it?

Lucien: Didn't you put Grandma Wen's family portrait photo on the company's public social media account?

MC: Um... Grandma Wen said it was okay, so I posted it. What's the matter?

Lucien: A professor from the university recognized Grandma Wen's clothes and said he had seen the person in the photo before, right at the West Moon Street intersection.

Lucien: This professor was a photography enthusiast when he was younger, and at the time, he noticed Grandma Wen's well-dressed appearance and couldn't resist taking a photo.

Lucien: Later on, he always wanted to give the photo to Grandma Wen, but he went to West Moon Street a few times and never encountered them again.

MC: "Them?"

Lucien: Mm, that's the good news I wanted to share. The photo the professor took is a picture of Grandma Wen and her husband.

MC: That's quite a coincidence!

Lucien: There's an even greater coincidence.

Lucien: I just got my hands on this photo, and in it, Grandma Wen is holding a tiny kitten the size of her palm.

MC: Is it Baby?

Lucien: Judging by its patterns, it seems so.

Lucien: Although the photo is quite old, I've contacted a professional photo restoration expert, and if all goes well, it should be restored within about a week.

MC: So, we can bring this photo to Grandma Wen next weekend?

Lucien: Exactly. They're real family portraits, and I hope it can truly make up for her regrets.

MC: ...It's really amazing, it feels like there's something guiding us in all of this.

Lucien: Who knows, maybe it really is.

Lucien: Let's go together to get the photo restored later. I know you're eager to see it as soon as possible.

MC: Um—I'll finish up what I'm doing, and then I'll come find you right away!

--------------------------------------------------------

[Lux's Short Rambles]

I didn't expect this date to be this good huhu. It's far better than last pet date where it feels like a plot that got way longer than it should 😂. It's also nice to see old NPCs getting mentioned again. The story of Grandma Wen with her husband is touching.

The theme of spending a lifetime together, despite how short life is, never fails got my heart clenched. And I love how this date highlights what a sensitive person Lucien is (in a good way, well, most of the time). He doesn't mind her getting angry at him because he knows that she does it because she cares about him. But he also genuinely fears that she might not be happy; so he goes to the Matchmaker's Temple alone and cares about these small conflicts, believing that they also have meaning :". But in the end, such trivial things and bumps on the road don't matter compared to being able to live their whole lives together, so rather than getting caught up in minor conflicts or trivial matters along the way it's better to priotize living together harmoniously for a lifetime.

He also noticed the smallest things, like how Grandma Wen and her husband never had their photo taken together since the very first time he and MC met Grandma Wen back in S1 Chapter 9. To quote MC, for someone who claimed he doesn't understand what love is, he's truly humble; perhaps back then, he already understands what love is in his heart by loving MC.

[pancake-breakfast]

Thinking about this panel in Volume 5 of TriMax.

This is such a crazy question for Knives to ask. Knives hasn't bothered to get to know humanity. All he has is this impression he decided on around a hundred years ago, and it seems like every human he's brought into his circle since then has either been forced to match that impression, or was chosen because they already matched that impression, or some combination of the two.

Meanwhile, Vash has spent the vast majority of his time since the Fall interacting with all sorts of people. And yes, some of those interactions have been terrible. In fact, I'd say some of them are terrible enough that if Vash were to give Knives a negative answer, there's a chance he'd be lying. Not a 100% chance, since Vash seems to put an immense amount of effort into seeing people as individuals rather than lumping them all together as having a singular motive or outlook on life, but definitely a chance.

But for Vash to give Knives an affirmative answer would also most definitely be a lie. Not because he has or hasn't had such feelings, but because a simple "yes" fails to encompass the whole of his experience with humanity. He knows people are nuanced, complicated, hurt, and desperate, and he knows that if he answers yes, Knives will overlook every struggle of every individual that, while not necessarily justifying their actions, provides some some explanation for it. Struggles that may have driven them to do things they later regret. Struggles they might not even have if Knives hadn't crashed them onto this wasteland of a planet.

Knives would just use Vash's "yes" as further indication that humanity must be wiped out, that it's an us-versus-them dichotomy that only has one rather simple solution.

But Vash isn't the type to just focus on the lows and forget the highs, or to forget the nuance that makes people fall into grey areas far more than they fall into black and white. He's been hurt (sometimes terribly) because of this, but he's also seen how his efforts have not been entirely in vain. So long as that holds true, I don't think he could muster up enough hate to genuinely want to wipe out all of humanity. Perhaps he could for a moment (however long a moment may last), but if he actually took action toward it, he'd just end up with more regret.

Heck, only a few chapters back, he expressed that very sentiment to Hoppered.

So instead of giving Knives an answer that will just be misconstrued, Vash dodges the question. Despite Knives' earlier statement, Knives is clearly not in a listening mood, so what else could Vash possibly do?

It seems Knives has very much embraced the mindset of, "Well, if you've sinned once, you might as well just embrace your damnation." It might seem like a bit of an illogical mindset for someone who constantly calls humans "sinners," but Knives sits there for several pages telling Vash that if Vash has ever even once wished destruction on mankind, then he has everything to gain by embracing those feelings and releasing them in a way that takes humanity down for good.

Which completely ignores the Blank Ticket mindset Rem passed down to Vash. Knives denies the possibility of a different path both for himself and for everyone else. The fact that even after a hundred years, his brother still clings to such an idea is beyond upsetting to Knives, to the point that he stops using words to try and convince Vash and instead just resorts to force.

At this point in the story, it's a bit difficult to see how the resurgence of Vash's memories of July will affect him, but I'd honestly be surprised if they'd make him lose his faith in humanity. After all, he seems to be using them right now to help Hoppered understand, and as dedicated as Vash may be to saving Meryl and hunting down Knives right now, somehow I doubt he's sharing these memories with Hoppered simply to buy himself some time.

It might still be a bit before Vash remembers that he, too, has a blank ticket to the future, but even through all the scars and hurt and betrayal he's experienced, he hasn't forgotten that that ticket is something humans still have, even if Knives is determined not to see it.

[and-claudia]

Against All Odds (Joel Miller x reader) Prologue pt.3

Warnings: CT Violence

Word Count: 1359

General Warnings for later on: The main story will have an age gap between Joel and the reader (Reader will be 25 once we get to the main storyline), this will also be your warning that it will eventually be an x pregnant reader (if that's not your jam, I'm sorry) there is also going to be more graphic/trigger parts later on so please always to be sure to read the warnings BEFORE reading. This story will also be 18+ and TO BE ON THE TAGLIST YOU CAN NOT BE AN AGELESS BLOG (i do actually check that) also there first hand full of parts are all prologue so Joel won't actually be in it for a bit

This is the last part of the Prologue!!!!! So there will be a pretty big time jump in the next part.

Taglist Sign-Up

Yn was used to getting checked for infection. It was nothing new to her. She knew she wasn’t, but it always made her nervous watching her brothers and father get checked as well. She watched and held her breath as Scott got checked. Green. It turned green. 

“Breathe, kiddo. It’s okay.” He said, patting her back as they waited for Zeak and their dad to get checked as well. 

Once they were cleared they were led to some beat-up, old military vans to be transported. Yn tuned out the men barking orders around her. Scott helped her in and handed her her bag before climbing in behind her. 

“How long will this take?” She asked. 

“About 8 hours, give or take…” 

“That’s going to take forever.” She sighed. 

“You’ll be fine.” Scott reassured as their van pulled off. 

Yn and Zeak played a few rounds of ISpy, even getting Scott to play a few times before they got bored of that. She eventually got restless and decided it was time for a quick nap. So with her head resting on her brother she slowly slipped into a light sleep. 

When she woke up, the sun was setting. She looked all around trying to figure out where they were but most of the road signs along this highway had been overrun by the plants. Before she got the chance to ask though, she was cut off by the driver’s hand-held radio going off. 

“Hey, there’s a situation up here…” A voice on the other end said. 

“What’s going on? I got a van full of people I gotta drop off.” Their driver said, clearly annoyed. 

“Baltimore is gone…” 

Yn’s eyes went wide and she looked up at her brother. He knew this wasn’t good but wanted to find out more, so he held up a finger to his lips to tell her to stay quiet so he could listen. 

“What do you mean it’s gone? The QZ is in Baltimore… you can’t miss it. It didn’t just grow legs and walk away.” Their driver said. 

“Well, I see it. I also see hundreds of infected stumbling around it.” 

“Shit. Turn off your lights and drive out slowly. Don’t startle them, are they will swarm your van.” 

Yn’s chest felt tight as her heart began to race.

“Fuck. They’re coming! Turn around NOW!” 

The whole van fell silent as the screams of the people in the other van crackled through the speaker on the radio.

“We’re taking a detour.” Their driver said before making a sharp turn. 

He grabbed his radio, “Baltimore has fallen, I repeat, the Baltimore Quartine Zone has fallen. Change route to Boston. We should have enough fuel to get us to within 5 miles. Van 1 has been attacked.” 

Although she knew they were, Yn checked and made sure that both her brothers and Pa were all in the same van. 

“How long will it take to get to Boston?” Someone in the back of the van asked. 

“Another seven hours. So get comfy. We will drive through the night.” 

Since she had slept earlier, Yn wasn’t super tired. Instead, she passed the time thinking about what awaited her and her family in Baston. She figured she’d finish school while her brothers and Pa found work. What types of jobs did they have there? From what she knew every QZ did things a little differently. Who knows if she’d even go to school? As she’s gotten older she’s realized it was different now. 

Scott went to school when he was young with the plan of going to college. Now, colleges weren’t really a thing, so was there even a point? Maybe she could get a job… help provide for her family as well. 

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed up but eventually, she fell asleep. When she woke up this time it was to Scott nudging her awake. 

“Wake up kiddo. We gotta go.” He said. 

“Why?” 

“Just come on. Stay close.” He said, grabbing her bag from where it sat at her feet. 

He got out and then turned to help her. The man that had been driving turned to face them. Now he held a shotgun in his hand. 

“Stay close. We’re about two eight miles away from the outskirts of the QZ. Infected aren’t common here but they can be here. If you have anything you can use to defend yourself, I suggest you grab it now.” He said. 

Each of Yn’s brothers and their dad had their own gun. They were her dad’s from back in Texas that he grabbed when they fled the night of the outbreak. Yn didn’t have one, she was too young. She did however have the knife she used to cut down her brother after he had hung himself. Scott told her to keep that night and it’s never left her pocket since. She pulled it out and flipped the blade out, then she looked to Scott for his approval. 

He gave a small nod, “Be careful. Stay right beside me.” He instructed. 

They had made it about 6 miles. Two more to go. Nothing had happened and the closer they got, the least likely they were to run into something… right? 

Yn heard something and snapped her attention that way. In the trees, she swear she saw something. 

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked. 

“The trees.” She said, now standing still, watching for something to move. 

“Just keep walking.” Scott said. 

She turned back to the trail they were walking. She made it a few paces ahead before Scott was yelling at her to watch out. She turned her head just in time to see it as it took her to the ground. She held her hands out, keeping it from biting her. 

“Scott! Scott! Help! Help me! Please! Please help me!” She screamed, clearly struggling to keep it off of her. 

Scott reacted quickly, pulling out his pistol and shooting it in the head twice. As it went limp, Yn managed to push it off of her. She sat up and pushed herself back along to the ground until her back hit a stump. 

“Did she get bit?” The driver asked, coming over to them. 

“No, she didn’t. She’s okay.” Scott said, crouching down in front of her, “Are you okay?”

She shook her head as the tears fell from her eyes, making tracks in the dirt on her cheeks from where she had fallen. 

“Did it bite you? It’s okay, we’ll take care of it, make it all better if it did. We just need to know. Did it?” 

Again she shook her head. 

“Positive?” 

She nodded this time. 

“Good, come here.” Scott said opening his arms. 

Yn launched herself into his arms and cried into his shoulder. 

“Thank you.” She mumbled through her tears. 

Scott opted to just carry her the rest of the way, she was still clearly in shock. He handed his gun back to their father so he could hold her better. He carefully stepped over the infected person and continued on down the trail. 

When they made it into the QZ they were checked for infection once again. This time it was Scott who held his breath while he watched his little sister get checked. Green. Good. It was green. She was okay. 

They were given a small apartment to live in and were told they would have to start working within the next couple of days. Someone would come to show them where to go tomorrow morning. That night, after supper, Yn was laying down in bed. Scott was nearby, watching her, making sure she was okay. When she was attacked, it scared him. He couldn’t lose her. He kept her sane in this crazy world they lived in. He knew their dad held a lot of resentment toward her ever since Chris’s death. He knew their dad blamed her. But he didn’t, he never could. 

Ever since that night, he made a promise to himself that he would do everything in his power to protect his sister, and he’d be damned if he was going to break that promise. 

tags:

@sexyvixen7@joelmillerslays@elliaze@strawbaby@little-lovely-darling@swimmjacket@watercolorskyy@mserynlarsen@sebby-staan@beelanie@fan-g0rl @paige96 @pedropascalfanclub @ameliadraws @mavs101 @azerty29 @rileyferg @belliedellie @rhaenyrasgf @imcreepininyourheartbabe @nani-kenobi @lunas-sstuff @holb32 @reidsgubbler @katmae1997 @dizzywinterdaydream @mrswidowjohansson @abzidabzy @givemeth @morgaussy @summerchicken

@strawbab

(Remove straw baby)

[fiction-is-the-new-reality]

Pt 1: if only you knew

The Calm Before The Storm

prologue is here

part two is here

part three is here

word count: 1k

warnings: violence and language

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I don’t want to make excuses or anything but life gets in the way of hobbies and I’m sorry 😔. I hope you guys enjoy :)

Lightning tendrils strike across the Gotham sky, briefly changing the sky from pitch-black to midnight blue. In that fleeting light, you catch sight of him running across the rooftops. The hunt began earlier in the night; you had taken to hiding in the shadows and seeking leverage on gargoyles.

This was nothing new to you. You learned Dagger’s movements a while back; he’s become predictable since then. You didn’t mind this cat-and-mouse game. In Gotham, having your own archnemesis was exciting. It felt like you had graduated and were finally taken seriously.

It gave you the same feeling as in that alleyway four years ago.

The two of you have been fighting for the past few hours. But now, with you both wounded, you’ve grown bored and are ready for this to end.

You make the few leaps to the top of a building and wait. You watch as his run gets slow and his movements are sloppy. Clearly, he’s just as ready to end this.

You can see that the lesion stretching from his ribs down to his hip is still dripping crimson. The blades you carry still drip red. He had gotten you across the arm, the sting of the cut much worse than the actual damage left behind.

You jumped down to the rooftop he had put himself on, and even though he heard you, he couldn’t see you. The night had gone dark again and, just like they had taught you, you kept to the shadows. You made plenty of noise that let him know he wasn’t alone, but he couldn’t pinpoint your location. You waited for the perfect time to strike, hood pulled down and blade drawn, ready to strike.

He finally sees you when lightning strikes and you’re right in front of him. A blade so close to cutting him, he feels the air off of it and the gleam of it almost blinds him. He doesn’t fight. Instead he runs until he realizes that he’s trapped himself. He looks around the rooftop frantically, like a caged animal.

Throwing out your rope, you get it around his ankle. Pulling with all your might, you bring him crashing into the ground. He makes quick work of flipping on his back to attempt to slash the rope. Too bad for him, the rope is enforced hundreds of times and would take months to saw through. He’s too focused on cutting the rope. He’s so focused on that bit of hope in his chest that he doesn’t notice that you’ve tied the rope around a vent. You lean your whole body weight away from the vent a few extra times to ensure it’s sturdy.

He doesn’t hear you, but instead feels the presence of you. You’re closer to him than he realized when he looks up.

His eyes widen. You’re scary up close. The hood covers the top half of your face and a mask covers the bottom half. Your eyes are the only thing visible and there’s darkness in them, a rage that causes Dagger to shiver. He pulls out some daggers and launches them. You lift your arm to deflect them. You move forward, dodging and deflecting the blades as you go.

There’s nowhere to go. The rope around his ankle and the next rooftop being too far away give little to no option. He’s trapped and the game is over. You reach out and grab one dagger midair and hold it up to Dagger’s throat.

You see, the fear in his eyes, feel him tense, and hear the catch of breath in his throat. He goes to grab your arm in a fearful panic. You smile.

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

You don’t have to turn to know it’s Dick. Fucking, of course, he’s here. You wonder how long he’s been tracking you, your mind starts racing. You had been too focused on getting Dagger to notice that you; yourself, were the mouse in Dick’s game.

“Leave Bluebird.” You focus back on Dagger, but before you make a move, you’re stopped.

The sound is in your ears before you feel the pain in your hand. The clank of the Eskrima stick knocking the dagger out of your hand causes your fingers to sting. In that split second, the pain makes you lose your hold just long enough that Dagger slips out.

“Now’s not the time for a catch-up!” You groan as Dagger is back to cutting at the rope.

“Good thing that’s not what I’m here for.”

Tightening your grip on the rope, you pull him towards you. In no time you’ve got him tied. All the while, Dick just watches, offering no help. Once he’s fully immovable, you rest your foot on his back and finally; you look over at Dick.

“Then what do you want?” He’s looking at where your foot is on Dagger. His eyes shine with a bit of pride.

“Can’t say it in front of the guest.”

“Fine.”

You pick Dagger up, standing him as tall as possible.

His threats and bargains towards you and Nightwing fall on unimpressed ears. Life lesson: No man is taken seriously when they’re bound by rope. You get him closer to the edge and then kick him square in the chest. Dagger shrieks as he begins falling backwards off the building. Dick runs to the edge and looks over, eyes wide and mouth open. He’s about to grab you and shake you like you’re a madman until he sees Dagger dangling above the ground. He’s wriggling like a worm on a hook.

“Relax, he’s fine.”

Dick lets out a sigh with a roll of his eyes.

“Have you heard anybody planning anything recently?”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure. I was kinda hoping you would know anything. You tend to speak more to them than I do.”

Silence stays in the air. Only the sounds of Gotham fill both your ears. He wasn’t wrong. You’ve been known to socialize with a few criminals here and there. But who hasn’t? Every hero has some shady connection or other. You just happen to keep awful company more often than others.

“Did you think I was actually gonna kill him?” You question, head tilted to the side.

“Which time?” He matches the glare you’re sending him. “I’m not here to discuss fighting and morals with you right now. I need to know if you’ve heard anything.”

“No, but I’m sure there’s something about to happen. Joker burns tomorrow, doesn’t he?”

Dick hums back his answer, looking off into the distance.

There’s a feeling like something is coming. Maybe it’s paranoia or maybe it’s just that Gotham is predictable, but something is telling you that nothing is going to end with Joker. You feel it in your bones. Dick feels his bones rattling in the same way.

Nine Months Later

The night has been unusually slow. It feels like the calm before the storm. Resting on a rooftop, you’re two bites into your burger when you’re interrupted by a loud screeching noise. Every screen in Gotham is covered with disturbing footage. It’s a diner full of people attacking each other, screaming in fear and agony. You stare in horror, your mouth agape.

Scarecrow’s voice fills the air. His voice deep and creaky. It adds to the eerieness.

Gotham is in a panic, worse than you’ve ever seen. The police are trying to contain the situation, but it’s clear they’re not equipped to handle what’s coming. Busses are loading up, full of people, businesses are boarding up, and the streets are to be deserted soon.

You realize that this is what you felt coming. That sinking feeling in your chest that’s held on for months is coming back to you right now. A chill spreads through your body, and the earth seems to swallow you up. Everything is moving in slow motion.

You can’t allow yourself to feel fear right now.

You watch the last bus leave.

The bridges begin their accession, and police place barricades and roadblocks everywhere. Cries of anger and sorrow can be heard from the people left behind, they beg to leave.

Glass shatters and a car rolls by with flames devouring it. The yells of triumph from thugs ring out.

You can’t allow yourself to feel fear right now. Gotham needs you.