#i could take that off with toilet paper soaked in water and leave nothing behind

[mouthlessmaiden]

makeup influencers doing ads for makeup removers are always so funny to me. they will use the makeup remover and be like OOOOOOH MYYYYY GOOOOOD LOOK AT THIS!!! when the makeup is removed. like does your makeup remover normally not do that

[lumiellle]

“force of habit”; haikaveh, g. 🌱🏛️

Five years ago, Kaveh took care of Alhaitham’s injuries regularly. Large ones and small, twisted ankles down to tiny paper cuts. It feels strange to be sitting here with him now, in Alhaitham’s bathroom, specks of blood in the bathtub.

Alhaitham winces as Kaveh carefully dabs a ball of cotton, saturated with disinfectant, to the laceration on his left temple.

“Stay still,” Kaveh says, only slightly irritated. Alhaitham looks pitiful in the state he’s in, enough so to earn Kaveh’s sympathy.

“Sorry,” comes Alhaitham’s muffled voice. His eyes are fixated on a spot behind Kaveh’s shoulder, his hands restless in his lap. His knuckles are busted, too.

“You’re too reckless,” Kaveh chides. “I almost dropped your fancy plate when you came in earlier, looking half dead.”

“Sorry,” Alhaitham repeats. He looks small somehow. Kaveh knows the strength brimming under Alhaitham’s skin — years ago, Alhaitham would sometimes pick him up and carry him around, a mischievous grin splitting his lips — but now, he looks drained. Vulnerable.

Kaveh gently holds Alhaitham’s crusty hair out of the way, inspecting the clean wound. It’s smaller than he had initially thought. With a bit of fixation, it should close up by itself within a couple of days.

“I’ll stick a clip plaster on this. Bear with me, okay?”

Alhaitham gives him a weak affirmative and goes back to being quiet. He’s been quiet a lot lately. As Kaveh applies the plaster, he is reminded of another time, not unlike this one. They were still students back then, drunk on love and wine, fooling around in Kaveh’s dorm room. Alhaitham was reciting something to him, a silly poem written in ancient script, tried to pull Kaveh up from where he was sitting on the floor, and slipped on an empty bottle. He ended up needing stitches afterward, but Kaveh remembers them sitting in his bathroom for a while. Alhaitham, with his busted chin, laughing, and him, trying to stop the bleeding with a wad of toilet paper. He cleaned up the wound as well as one could with no proper first aid kit at hand, but Alhaitham thanked him nonetheless. Kaveh remembers, with a painful twinge to his heart, pressing his lips to Alhaitham’s chin in a childish attempt to chase away the pain. Alhaitham had given him a look then, so achingly soft, and twined their fingers together in his lap. Even years later, a bittersweet memory. 

Shaking his head, Kaveh steps back from Alhaitham to take stock of his work. The plaster is in the right place, no further bleeding. That just leaves Alhaitham’s ruined hands to be taken care of.

“What happened for you to end up like this? Did you get in a fist fight?”

Alhaitham shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“It does matter.” To me, Kaveh doesn’t say. The words refuse to come out.

“Just a squabble with some bandits in the desert. Nothing to worry about.” Alhaitham still won’t meet Kaveh’s eyes.

Sighing, Kaveh soaks a washcloth in lukewarm water and starts to clean off Alhaitham’s hands one by one. The skin is cracked and dry; even when the worst of the dried blood and gravel washes away, it looks painful. Kaveh applies a dab of ointment onto the skin before wrapping both hands in simple bandages. These hands are not a fighter‘s hands, Kaveh thinks.

They’re a writer’s.

The stubborn callus on Alhaitham’s right middle finger is still there. Kaveh wonders if he still writes down his thoughts in his diary every night. He wonders if he still collects old poems, and if he still sorts them by the first letter of the first word, like he did when they were younger. Alhaitham’s hands, even now, are the same hands that used to hold onto Kaveh’s own. It’s a shame for them to be in this state.

“Please take better care of yourself, Alhaitham.” Kaveh manages to say this, but he can’t follow up with the words he truly means to say: “I’m worried about you.” Thoughtlessly, he raises one of Alhaitham’s battered hands to his lips and places a kiss on it, over the bandage.

It’s over before he realizes that he has crossed a line. A kiss, even on the hand, is undue for the new, distanced relationship they’ve somehow managed to forge. Kaveh drops the hand and stands, turning away. “Sorry.” It comes out barely a whisper. “Force of habit.”

A rustle by the bathtub. Then, a large, warm presence behind him. Kaveh’s heart is pounding in his chest — is Alhaitham upset with him? Kaveh freezes when something settles on his shoulder, soft strands of hair tickling his ear. A beat passes, neither of them speaking.

Then, with his forehead pressed into Kaveh’s shoulder, Alhaitham says, “Thank you.” Just two words, but they’re enough to make Kaveh’s throat constrict. For a second, he is transported back to their student days, to the memory of picking up Alhaitham from Bimarstan. He enveloped him in a hug for a greeting, the bandage on Alhaitham’s chin scratching along Kaveh’s neck. It was a sweltering day in summer, sweat running down their backs, but things were good back then. It used to be so easy to look into Alhaitham’s eyes. To talk.

Now, they are standing in Alhaitham’s bathroom, and it’s too quiet. Eventually Alhaitham lets go of him, and just for a moment, Kaveh catches a glimpse of his face. His lips are pressed together, and his eyes are hard in the way they are when he’s upset. 

Alhaitham’s voice sounds remorseful when he says, “I can’t promise this won’t happen again.”

 Kaveh smiles bitterly. “How typical of you.”

Eyes averted, Alhaitham continues. “When it happens, will you be there to patch me up again?”

Kaveh looks straight ahead, hands braced on the doorframe. His heart stings as if it too had been treated with disinfectant. This is not a promise, not an invitation, not anything, he knows. He knows, because Alhaitham won’t look at him. He knows, because they agreed to end that part of them five years ago. He knows that Alhaitham doesn’t go back on his words. And still, he accepts the promise that isn’t and takes the invitation never meant to be taken. Because he knows himself, too.

 “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

[aller-geez]

Since my fic is going to be twice as long as I thought and I’m not as cool as @thekinkyleopard with her lightning fast fic skills, I decided to give you guys a lil snippet…….

It’s the day before Remington’s 29th birthday, and he has dinner plans later that evening with Levi, as well as his sisters and their boyfriend, Biziil, and cant seem to find any clean clothes to wear out. 🥵

Please enjoy this snippet of 29: Another Year Sicker while it takes me another 4 days to write this monster of a fic (^:

The wolf had been scrounging around the bus earlier that afternoon for a change of clothes while Levi was in the shower, and stumbled upon a black plastic bag that was tied up and stuffed in the back reaches of their shared closet. In his hurry to find something usable, all common sense was thrown to the wind and his sharp nails made quick work of the plastic, tearing a large hole into the side and allowing a light blue sweater to lazily spill out onto the floor. Without finding any other options thus far, the desperate wolf peeled the sweater from the bag, and pressed it to his face, inhaling deeply through his nose for a sniff test. Instantly, the large man’s bright green eyes began to water, an intense tickle building rapidly throughout his sinuses. “What the—?” The sweater was quickly removed from his face, and suddenly the soft black and grey hairs that littered the fabric where his face once was pressed caught his attention. Too late now.

“h’tsCHH!! HIHH’ITSCHH’IEWW!” Remi sneezed openly, spraying the sweater he held out in front of him. With a suddenly wet sniffle, the wolf grumbled obscenities under his breath, throwing the sweater deep into the closet again, although that did nothing for the ever present tickle that now made itself home in the back of his nose. “Hhh..” His breath hitched, allergic tears threatening to spill over his eyelids already from the intensity. Waving one large hand in front of his face, his features remained twisted in pure helplessness as he tried to coax out the release he was denied. A few moments pass, and the stubborn itch retreated back into his nose, leaving the wolf painfully congested and desperate for the onslaught to subside. With the knuckle of his index finger pressed under his nose, Remi quickly made his way into the bathroom, where he fumbled to open the medicine cabinet on the wall, the mirror hitting the wallpaper behind it loudly as it flung open. As his thin fingers combed through the various bottles of god knows what they had in the cabinet, the burning within his nose made itself known yet again, despite his knuckle pressed against his septum. He never was any good at holding them back..

“Hhuh’IITSSCHHH’IIEW!! HUH’TSCH’UH! —TSCHH!” Each itchy sneeze continued to get messier until his hand was completely soaked in small droplets, his eyes watering so badly he could barely see. With a quick swipe, he tore off a small amount of the toilet paper that hung up on the wall beside him, and blew his uncooperative nose into it with a thick gurgle. Thankfully, it was enough to repel the intense quivering of his nostrils enough to be able to locate the familiar white and pink bottle of Benadryl that was tucked in the corner of the cabinet.

“There you are, you little shit..” Remi grumbled, fishing two pink pills from the bottle and popping them into his mouth, swallowing them with ease with just the saliva in his mouth. As the pills slid down his throat, his now bloodshot eyes flew open, realizing his terrible mistake. “Welp, I hope I bake it till the edd of didder with Biz add the girls before passigg out..” The wolf muttered to himself, his voice thick with congestion, replacing the cap on the bottle of Benadryl and sniffling wetly.

Stay tuned for the next few days when I post the entirety of my collab fic with @thekinkyleopard ,

29: Another Year Sicker

And the fic will include a bunch of photos as well ;u;

[golddaggers]

midnight rendezvous

pairing: louis tomlinson x f!reader

warnings: filthy smut with hints of fluffness. period sex. petnames. him calling you baby doll. defo nsfw +18, so my dudes, read carefully.

a/n: it's your renegade writer back with her fantasies. i've written this a while back and though it'd be such a shame to share. if you do like it, make sure to reblog and like. thanks and enjoy *wink* leth x

word count: 3k+

xx

It’s just a bit past midnight when I park home, no one wandering the streets, or children playing about, there’s just the chilled breeze fumbling with the leaves. I don’t notice a second car on the driveway until I’m up close, I blame the dim yellow streetlights and my exhaustion. It had been a particularly busy shift at the hospital, I wanted nothing more than to sleep for about two days straight.

The cold crisp air makes me tremble for a split second, but I am soon welcomed by the warmth of the inside. I kicked off my sneakers, trying to be as silent as possible, I didn’t want to wake him up. A second car meant Louis had come home and he must be tired, it had been weeks since he had a break, we hadn’t seen each other for even longer. The weekends he happened to be around, I couldn’t work my schedule to spend them at home with him. It sucked, and I missed him more than I could put it into words.

A frustrated sigh slips while I walk to the kitchen, filling up a glass of water. After so many years, I should be used to it: the busy schedule, the months spent apart. I’m not, though. And being honest, I don’t think it’s possible to not be in pain when waking up to an empty bed beside me, to not hear the soft humming when he’s doing the dishes, to not miss the press of his lips on mine. I just wanted us to buy a bunch of lands somewhere, live a quiet, happy life, have children, and grow old. Just the two of us.

This was something I would never tell him. Robbing him of his passions wasn’t on my mind. I knew he’d oblige if I did say so. If I asked him, but I couldn't.

I leave a half-drunk glass behind, and go upstairs, taking off my plain white shirt then unbuttoning my jeans. Before I got to the bedroom, however, I froze, strangled sounds coming from there startling me for a second. It's followed by a smile creeping in, I’m very much aware, and familiar, with them.

The door isn’t closed, so I peek in. I see him naked, sheets pooled by his feet, and one hand wrapped around himself, moving up and down with ease, his thumb applying just enough pressure. I feel my mouth watering at the sight, a cramp twisting my belly. Desire gathers quickly, I was so touch-starved that I might as well come undone just by watching him get himself off.

His eyes are closed, thin lips parted. I slide off my pants, throwing both them, and my shirt away, walking inside in just my black lingerie. Even that was starting to be uncomfortable.

“Lou?” I call him, standing with crossed arms. He’s quick to drop everything, shooting me a wide, surprised glare. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spoil your good time.”

I’m half-joking at this point.

“I thought you’d only be home in t’ mornin’,” Deep blue eyes, sparked with lust, stare up at me. I'm very aware of how much I want to be near him again. “C’mere.”

He pats the space on his right side, it’s mesmerizing how quickly he can go from a sex god to a warm loving man. I go, but I don’t stay beside him, instead, I take my seat on his lap, which makes him laugh, rough hands on my waist, squeezing the flesh. I shift, uncomfortable, feeling him beneath me. So hard, so ready. It’s been so long I might just assume I'm a virgin all over again, shamefully responsive to anything he might do to me.

Louis leans in, planting a kiss just between the curve of my breasts. The prickle of his bead makes my pulse rise. It’s the intimacy that gets me hooked. He feels like coming home. A warmth that springs from the tip of my toes to my head, flushes my cheeks, and makes my forehead sweaty.

A “missed ya” whispered on my skin makes me shake, he then kisses the soft spot where the shoulder meets the neck, I let out a groan, moving, seeking friction. His smirk is taunting, both hands going up to my cheeks, four eyes meeting in the middle of a tired night.

“What now?” I say, unsure, panting as his thumb toys with my lips, pushing inside for a moment.

“Do you want a shower first?” He asks, staring at me, a boyish smile on his face.

“I should. I’m disgusting.”

“Nonsense,” The tip of his nose is pressed to my cheek, a ghostly kiss left behind on my jaw. “You look amazing anyway. Why d'ya think I’m so worked up?”

“Were you thinking of me? Getting yourself off imagining my hands around you? My spit and my lips, hmm?”

Louis pants when I grind down on him, slick with the throb of him against me. The fabric of my panties still forbids me from knowing his skin on mine, from sinking and swallowing him whole.

“Yeah, I was. Always think abou' ya', love.”

“I think about you too,” The friction makes me lean forward, sighing against his warm neck. “Nights get so lonely… I miss you so much, you know.”

“Darling…”

“Mmhm, I have to touch myself, grab my boobs,” I place his hands on them, and he squeezes, promptly. Fills his hands. It’s swollen, sore even. I’m burning up.

“Do you say my name when you come?” Louis asks, quietly, sucking a patch of skin. I’ve got goosebumps, I’m reeling from the build-up.

“I do. Over and over and over,” The room feels warmer if that's possible. Sweat drips down my back. I’m aware as to why I’m so sensitive, besides the yearning when it’s been months since he last touched me, my period heightens things up.

For a moment there, I almost forgot it.

“Can I just fuck you now, doll?” It’s a hoarse whisper, I clench in frustration. I’m hot, nearly suffocating. “Want t’ feel yeh so bad.”

His accent thickens, I’m lost, too into the moment to think coherently. I go for his lips, kissing him with passion, biting down on his bottom lip, still moving my hips, rolling against his. He pushes back, groaning into my mouth. It’s sinful. Everything about him is.

“Can’t, sweets,” It slips out, breathlessly. “‘M bloody down there.”

He smiles, soothing, hands firm on my hips. My stomach somersaults, it’s amazing how Louis manages to make me feel 17 every time he gives me that gorgeous smile of his. I feel like one of his groupies.

“Never cared ‘bout that before. C’mon, help me out.”

“Lou…” A strangled noise followed. I’m reaching a point where pleasure mixes with pain, I’m too aroused, too sensitive. He touches me there, trained fingers light to not hurt me but enough to stir me on. “You’re trying to bribe me, aren’t you?”

“Am I getting there?” The double entendre makes me chuckle, nodding. “Good. Let me take those off, hmm?”

“Come,” I untangle myself from him, the cold, empty feeling brings a pang to my lower belly. “If we’re doing this, let’s do it in the shower.”

I slide off my panties, tossing them at him. Louis laughs wholeheartedly, balling it in his hand while kicking the sheets away to follow me into our bathroom.

It’s bright, with mirrors everywhere. My hair looks an absolute mess, strands falling down my shoulders, I’ve got flushed cheeks, and glistening skin, perspiration all over. Five minutes with him just does that to you. He looks impressive from behind me, his brown hair was thrown back, wide blue eyes staring right at me from the reflection. I can see the extension of his tattoos, the tanned skin from being under the sun a little too long last weekend.

Louis is a sight for sore eyes.

We exchange a look then smile. The kind of intimacy that only comes when you love someone, beyond passion, beyond attraction.

He undoes the clasp of my bra. I sigh in relief, gasping when his hands cup my boobs, pinching my oversensitive nipples. I can’t help but toss my head back, resting it on his shoulder. He’s good at this, playing with me, edging me out.

“Missed them even more,” Louis expresses, a half-smile on his face. “You’ve got the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”

“You know you’re probably the only man on earth that can get away with saying stuff like that, right?” We share a laugh. “Turn the water on, sweets, yeah? I need to take the tampon off.”

While he busies himself with getting things ready, I put my leg up on the toilet and gently pull it out, being careful not to spill any blood on the floor. I’m mentally grateful it’s not an extra heavy day. I wrap it up in toilet paper and toss it in the bin.

“Water is warm, baby,” Steam starts to fog up the room. “Come.”

“I hope I will.” I wink at him. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so cheeky.

“Don’t tease me,” Lust soaks up his voice, eyes stern. He’d punish me for sure. When I wasn’t expecting him to do so. When we weren’t so desperate for each other. Whenever he’s back home, there’s no games, just tension relief.

He goes in, standing beneath the shower rain, his back facing me. I look at his ass, all perky and round. It’s no secret that I got a thing for it, and I might’ve bitten it a few… hundred times. Whenever I get the chance, really. I grab them, squeezing the muscle, a hoarse laugh falling from his lips. Louis thinks it’s silly, doesn’t see how it’s so great.

We kiss, then. In a brief moment, he spins and pulls me in, tongue rolling ‘round with mine. It’s wet, crude even. I make sounds that would mistake me for a pornstar, groaning when his tip brushes where I’m aching with need. He pulls my hair back, exposing my neck to him, sucking and biting. Leaving behind bruises I’ll have trouble covering. The adrenaline high doesn’t let me focus on that, though.

His hand slides between us, lodging between my legs, his palm pressing my pulsating clit. I call out for him, squeezing his shoulders, whimpering. Just this faint touch sends me into overdrive. It’s borderline ridiculous. How good he is. Or how much I want him. How I crave for him like a junkie craves a fix. It’s the trip of a lifetime when he’s inside me.

I go for his dick, so painfully hard it could cut right through me. There’s something about watching his eyes snap close, or how he moans, but I wobble, my breathing going fitful. He says my name, pressing his soft lips to my forehead, still rubbing me out. My hand seems smaller when it’s wrapped around the width of him. Louis feels heavy and scorching hot.

“I want to do something,” I whisper, high on the pleasure he was giving me. “Would you let me?”

“I want to fuck you, darling,” It’s raw, doesn’t sound dirty, more like a pleading question. “Please let me, hmm? I want to fill you up. Watch it drip down out of you. My pretty baby with cum all over her legs.”

A pained whimper comes out.

The tip of his fingers are stained red, they never really slipped inside me, just circling, creating a build-up that leaves me in discomfort. It’s unusual how much time we are taking with this, at this point, we would’ve fucked about three times already. Either way, I like it. The glint in his eyes, eyes that I adore. Diamond beauties staring down at me, so full of desire. It’s powerful. To know you have such an effect on a man like him.

I place him in the tight space between my thighs, both of us groaning with the stronger contact. I’m dripping and it’s not just blood, he’s thrumming, hips sloppily jerking forward. I feel him almost in me, but not quite. I scream, I’m sure our neighbours would make complaints. I don’t find it in me to care. It's way too heavenly.

Tattooed hands land on each of my love handles, our bodies are almost one at this point. That’s when he lifts my leg, we both can’t do any more foreplay, no more waiting. I help him inside, a little bit of blood gushing before he’s deep within. It takes a while for me to get used to him again, two months can be enough for things to shrink back up.

“God, your cunt is so fucking tight,” He mumbles, out-of-worldly. “You’re gonna make me come and I barely even started.”

“And you’re so fucking big, gonna split me open,” I shoot back, gripping tight on his forearm, trying to balance myself as he starts to pound, slowly at first. “Fuck, baby. This is so good.”

“Tell me who can make you feel so good, baby doll,” A particular hard snap of his hips makes me sway on my step, but his iron grip steadies me. “Use your words. I want to know.”

“You!” It’s a desperate squeal, I feel full, he stretches me to a burning point. Pain mixing with pleasure. It doesn’t take a scientist to tell me I’ll have trouble sitting down tomorrow. “You, baby.”

Louis lifts my other leg, both on the crook of his arms, and presses me against the tiled wall of our bathroom. His teeth clamp around my nipple, biting, sucking. I feel dizzy with the torrential rain of emotions. The water keeps falling on us, warm. It splashes when he thrusts.

None of us is lasting longer. I wasn’t particularly known to do so, not when he was the one handling me anyway. Some people are just skilled. Just know how to push somebody else’s buttons. And Louis knew how to push mine. He knew how to push me into the fucking edge. Coax a string of orgasms out of me if he so wanted. With his fingers, with his tongue, with his dick.

I moan, one hand tugging the hair at the nape of his neck and the other going to where our bodies met. It’s a fucking sight. Watching him go in then out of me. I start rubbing myself.

“You have to be quieter,” He says, our foreheads glued together, still slamming into me like I’m his favourite rag doll. “We don’t need people calling the police.”

“It’s your fault,” My reply is followed by a curse word. “Giving it to me so good like that.”

“Mmhm,” Dark blue looks at me, I can feel him getting sloppier. It’s close.

In urgency, he kisses me, I’m too frail, too putty in his hands. A numbness starts on the tip of my toes, it makes my eyes roll back, I can’t even voice anything anymore, entirely surrendered to him. To the vulnerability of this moment. Being his as much as he’s mine.

Time stands still whenever I’m with him. And right now, I can’t even keep track of it, too lost in him. That’s why I don’t know how long it took, it could’ve been seconds or minutes or hours. But I broke. Went up screaming. Barely registering he was telling me to shush, that it was too late in the night to be so loud. If that was what he was saying at all.

I’m shuddering, that I can tell with conviction, convulsing. That doesn’t happen often. I mean, it’s always fucking good, but like this, like I’m on something, that’s exceptional. At one point, he growls, squeezing me tighter. His hips stutter, face squashed against my chest. He spends himself inside me, as it was promised. I’m beyond satisfied, I’m in a state of bliss no one can reach me. Where the world doesn’t exist, only him.

Louis stays in for a while longer, nuzzling between my breasts, I play with his hair, a bubbly smile on my face. No high higher than this. He helps me down, I don’t trust my feet, clinging to him like a child. A chuckle falls from his lips.

“That good, huh?”

I just nod.

“I’ll help you clean up.”

With a sponge and a bit of liquid soap, Louis rubs down my body, taking his time to bubble me up. I’m still sensitive to touch, I have to pull his hand away when he tries to touch me down there, where I’m probably red and still swollen. I can feel the burn. Good burn, though.

When we both finish cleaning ourselves up, we step out of the shower. He still has a protective hand around my waistline. I wince at the thought of moving away, but I have to, I can tell I’m one second shy of making a mess on the floor.

He fetches us towels while I go deal with the bloody problem. Pun intended. I clean the dripping blood mixed with cum on my thighs, and when I look up, deep blue is fixed on me. As if entranced.

“What?”

“You just look hot.”

A little laugh slips.

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad,” I groan, it’s still sore-ish when I slide the tampon in. “You really did a number on me.”

“Eh, who’s counting?”

Louis winks, helping me up, I’m still weak on the legs. There’s no need to get dressed, so we wrap ourselves under the sheets, our sopping hair making stains on the pillows.

It’s so painfully intimate.

“I love you,” I whisper, half-asleep, minutes later.

“I love you more.”

His voice is the last sound I hear before I drift to the first night of sleep where I feel full, happy, and satiated. Slept like a queen, his arms wrapped around my waist, cheek pressed to my back. I was on my little piece of heaven and no one could ever snap me out.

[cinebration]

Written in DNA (Booker x Reader) [Part 1]

Premise: Quynh sends Booker to retrieve a weapon that may or may not change his life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Epilogue

Tagged: @lucy-sky​, @city-of-weird​

Warnings: violence

Gif Source: captaindelafere

“Do this for me, and you will see Andromache and the others.”

Overcoming his initial shock, Booker had tried to explain the one-hundred-year exile to Quynh, but she wouldn’t hear it.

“There is a war coming. I need you to help me get the weapon to stop it.”

He resisted the idea immediately, even if his whiskey-soaked brain was intrigued.

“All you have to do is retrieve it. You want to protect your family, don’t you?” She downed the glass of water. Pulling a slip of paper from her coat, she set it on the counter and placed the glass atop it. “Decide, Booker, whose side you are on.”

A few days later, a mostly sober Booker found himself searching the address online.

The result appeared on his screen: a military installation.

He had to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Of course a weapon of war would be in a military installation. Had he not been so deep in his cups, he would have come to this conclusion once he saw the address was located in the United States.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen, arms folding across his chest. He shouldn’t get involved, not when it would put him back in the group’s path. He didn’t deserve to see them, the exile notwithstanding. That was just a formality for him. The shame is what kept him away.

Or so he told himself.

But if Quynh was right, how much worse would he feel if he did nothing and they were hurt?

Booker rubbed his stubbly face. Quynh. How did she get out? Did the others know already? His shock and his drunkenness had prevented him from asking the questions he needed. She hadn’t even left a means of communication for him to contact her.

Warning bells chimed quietly in the back of his mind, but he heard them only dimly through the liquor fog.

For six months, he had spent his days in the pub and back in his apartment, marinating in whiskey, whisky, and scotch. He was looking at ninety-nine-and-a-half more years of that.

The address beckoned.

He booked a flight to the United States.

~~

When Booker put his mind to something—which, admittedly, hadn’t been often of late, as that required drive and hope, both of which had been lacking—he accomplished it.

Which is how he ended up inside the military installation, following the instructions written underneath the address on the piece of paper. Having lifted a security card from one of the men leaving work for the day, he had access to the floor he needed: deep in the bowels of the basement, some four storeys down.

With the changing of the guard at his time of arrival, he slipped through the security checkpoints with his head bent over a clipboard he lifted off a desk as he passed. He swiped through each checkpoint with the stolen ID and stepped into the elevator, taking it all the way down to the sublevel he needed.

The elevator doors rolled silently open on a long cement hallway with stark overhead lighting. Booker squinted against it, his eyes smarting.

A lone door stood at the far end.

Booker glanced down at it, small alarms chiming in his mind. If the weapon was so dangerous, why was it in a solitary room without extra security? The card reader beside the door seemed like all it needed was an ID.

Propping the clipboard against the wall beside the elevator doors, Booker drew his pistol and slowly advanced down the hallway. His shoes made the slightest squeak against the floor as he moved.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he stopped before the door. He swiped the card through the reader.

The door clicked open.

Readjusting his grip on the gun, he nudged the door open with his shoulder, easing it open slowly and then all at once, the muzzle of the gun sweeping the room.

You sat on a chair in front of another chair, your feet propped up on it. Booker tensed as you lowered the book in your hands a fraction, enough for him to see your eyes—and for you to see him.

Your face lit up. “You’re new.” Your attention slid to the gun. “Really new.”

Frowning, Booker glanced around the rest of the room. An examination table occupied the corner nearest him, though no tools were in sight. An exposed bathroom—a toilet, shower, and sink—stocked with toiletries, stood tucked into another corner opposite a thin cot with a foot locker at its end. A bookshelf overflowed with books beside a small flatscreen TV.

Booker’s confusion intensified as he returned his attention to you. You sat in the same position as before, though the book, your place held by your finger, had moved to your lap. There was no fear or anxiety in your face…only a bright curiosity.

“I’m looking for something,” he said. There wasn’t much he could say. His gaze swept the room again. No cupboards or storage units. The cot didn’t even have anything underneath its metal frame.

He twitched as you moved in the corner of his eye. Legs unfolding from the chair, you set your feet on the floor. Something about the movement unnerved Booker. You placed the book down in the second chair.

“Tell me what and maybe I can help,” you said, smiling.

Quynh had gotten it wrong. Booker took a step back toward the door, hesitated. The look on your face was so earnest, so genuine, it couldn’t hurt to ask…

“I’m looking for a weapon. Someone told me it was here.”

The light went out of your face, disappointment flickering across it. “Oh, that.” Sighing, you stood, rolled your shoulders, and said, “I can help with that.”

Eyebrows arching, Booker lowered the gun. “Thank you.”

You stepped over to him, just within reach, and smiled, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Sure.”

You didn’t move.

Alarm bells rang again in Booker’s mind. “Where is it?”

“You’re looking at it.”

Your hands darted forward, closed around the gun. Twisted.

Booker’s wrists snapped.

Pain lanced white-hot up his arms. He jerked back with a harsh cry.

“Is this a test?”

He glanced up at you, brow furrowed with pain and confusion. You stood beyond his reach, the gun held loosely at your side. Booker leaned against the door behind him, blinked away the pain-induced tears. His hands hung useless from the wrists, dangling grotesquely.

What the fuck was he dealing with?

“Is it?” you asked again.

Booker forced himself to ignore the pain. Already he could feel something at work within him, knitting the bones back together.

“Not a test,” he answered.

His wrists snapped back into place, fingers suddenly back under his control. He glimpsed your look of surprise. But in the split second he saw it, it seemed different than the surprise he was used to seeing. There was something else behind it.

Booker lunged forward, one hand reaching for the hand holding the gun, the other for your shirt front.

But you weren’t there. You were behind him, your hand clamping down on his collar. With a soft grunt, you used his own momentum—

—and swung him across the room.

Booker smashed into the bookcase, skull cracking against a shelf, books scattering around him as he hit the ground. His whole body ached, pummeled and already exhausted.

He saw through hazy vision your feet approach and stop a few inches away.

“Why are you here?”

The hope in your voice struck an odd note in his concussed mind. “The weapon,” he mumbled. God, he could use a drink.

The world fell into darkness.

~~

Booker seized awake, gasping violently. On his feet, he swept the room.

Empty.

The door was propped open a fraction, just enough for him to glimpse out into the hall.

Also empty.

The gun was missing, as was the keycard.

Swearing under his breath, Booker staggered out into the hall and to the elevator, hoping none of the doors he’d come through needed the card to swipe out.

As the lift took him up out of the bowels of the compound, he struggled to understand what had happened. Even with his own momentum against him, it would be impossible for someone to fling him across the room like that.

Or snap his wrists like they were candy canes.

~~

The security guard swiveled away from the camera feeds to face her coworker. “Call General Howzer. We have a problem.”

~~

Years of stealth operations allowed Booker to escape from the compound just as the alarms sounded and everything went into lockdown. He was in his car, driving away, as the teams rolled out to sweep the premises.

He drove calmly, as though nothing was amiss. On the freeway, he disappeared among the evening traffic.

He relaxed only a fraction when he made it to a lonely stretch of freeway some thirty miles away.

A lonely stretch of freeway with a dying strip mall off to one side.

LIQUOR read one of the signs. A beacon.

Booker pulled off the road and parked the car in shadows. Trying to appear as calm as possible, he entered the store, basking for a moment in the familiar harsh glow of its lights—how did all liquor stores have this lighting?—before heading to the whiskey.

He bought two bottles and had hardly stepped outside the door before he was chugging at the first one. He nearly cried as the liquor washed over his tongue.

Throwing himself behind the steering wheel, he took another long swig and squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to get back to Paris, change apartments, dig in for the century-long wait.

Something cold pressed against his neck.

His eyes peeled open.

“Hi,” you said into his ear.

[page-doctor-bekker]

Human Error (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) this really doesn’t actually have anything to do with sarah being trans, it just takes place in the same universe. this is literally just an event that happened in this au written out so i can write about effects surrounding it without people being confused lol.

-

-

“Reese, we’re slammed, any chance you can take treatment four?” Maggie pointed at Sarah Reese, and then at the fourth treatment room. Sarah looked up from the computer, before grabbing her tablet and heading to the treatment room.

“Hi, Mr. Nearling? I’m Dr. Reese, what seems to be the issue today?” Sarah pushed for hand sanitizer, rubbing her already-dry hands together until the gel had absorbed.

“Trouble breathing…” The man took a few labored breaths, “Cold sweat… I’m shaking, I can’t breathe-”

“Okay, I see, when did this start? Does your chest hurt at all?”

“I… I had a big meeting today and it just happened suddenly. I guess it hurts a little bit.”

“Can I take a listen to your heart?” Sarah asked, already taking her stethoscope off of her neck. The man nodded, and she pressed the drum to his chest. His heart was racing.

He started talking fast, “Are you going to be able to give me a doctor’s note? I’m going to lose my job…” He started breathing faster.

“Has this ever happened before?” Sarah asked, lifting the stethoscope from the man’s chest, “Any history of anxiety or panic disorders?”

“Never like this,” He choked up and coughed a bit, “But, I had social anxiety as a kid.”

“Do you have any family history of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, or high blood pressure? Do you smoke, drink?”

“No, none of that,” The man waved his hands, “I’m a healthy guy. A vegetarian, everything- everything is fine! I’m perfect, I can’t-”

“Mr. Nearling-” He was hyperventilating, and Sarah grabbed one of his hands, “Mr. Nearling, I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” Dr. Reese let go of his hand, and hung her stethoscope back around her neck, and tapped on her iPad, “I’m going to give you something to calm you down, then we can talk about coping strategies and I will refer you to outpatient psychiatry to continue care. April, push 1.5 milligrams of Ativan.”

April pushed the medication through the patient’s IV line, and Dr. Reese pulled up a round, spinning stool to the bed and sat down. April nodded at the doctor, and left the room, pulling the curtain shut.

Mr. Nearling calmed down noticeably, which Dr. Reese took as a success - Panic attack subsided. Dr. Reese smiled, “It’s normal to have some residual physical symptoms, mild tightness, shortness of breath, but as the medication works you’ll calm down more and more. Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Mr. Nearling shrugged, “Maybe? I’ve never gone to the hospital for it.”

“After a severe panic attack you may have more panic attacks in the coming days or weeks, so I’m going to call in a mild benzodiazepine in case you need a bit of help,” Dr. Reese typed that into the tablet, “When you feel the anxiety and panic start up, you definitely want to try coping mechanisms before you take medication for it. The medication is just for if those coping mechanisms don’t work, which sometimes happens and is to be expected every once in a while.”

Mr. Nearling nodded, taking a deep breath. It was shaky going out, but residual anxiety can do that.

“So, a good first step, whenever you’re having a panic attack, is to recognize that you’re having a panic attack. If it doesn’t work to say it in your head, say it out loud,” Dr. Reese tapped the tablet against her leg with each coming syllable for emphasis, “I am having a panic attack.”

“I am having a panic attack.”

And just like that, it was no longer a panic attack. Mr. Nearling went limp, and the monitors started going crazy. Dr. Reese held two fingers to the man’s neck, and yelled out, “I need a crash cart!”

Everything moved fast after that. Sarah was pushed out of the way by two ED doctors, who started barking out orders.

“He’s in cardiac arrest, page CT. Reese, get on his chest-”

Sarah could feel blood pounding in her ears, and she clasped one hand over the other and started humming. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive. Stayin’ alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive… No matter how much CPR she performed, she still needed the song to keep her on beat.

“-Milligram of Epi.”

Ah, ha, ha, ha…

“Hold compressions,” Dr. Choi barked, holding two fingers to the man’s neck, “Clear!”

The man’s chest lurched as he was shocked, and Sarah’s heart jumped into her throat. Dr. Choi held his fingers back to the man’s neck, “Another milligram of Epi. Charge to 200.”

Sarah resumed compressions. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’...

“Clear!”

Sarah held her hands up, shaking. This never got easier.

“Asystole,” April sighed out, preparing another milligram of Epi. She knew exactly what Dr. Choi was going to ask for next.

“Another milligram of Epi.”

Sarah reached to resume compressions, but Dr. Choi swatted her hands out of the way and did CPR himself. Dr. Choi did it slightly faster than Sarah did. He knew the man was dead.

Sarah squeezed her clammy hands together, shaking like a leaf.

Dr. Bekker rushed in almost immediately after Dr. Choi stopped compressions, and was floored when Choi called time of death.

“Alright, why wasn’t this patient taken to the cath lab as soon as his heart attack was diagnosed?” Ava’s tone was stone cold.

Everyone looked at Sarah.

“He uh… He presented with…” She cleared her throat, “With shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, shakiness, and extreme anxiety as well as a positive history for social anxiety. He did not-” She cracked her knuckles, “Um… He also displayed signs of work-related stress and no- Uh, no risk factors for heart attack. I determined he was having a panic attack and ordered 1.5 milligrams of Ativan and started talking about coping strategies with him.”

“Whenever a patient shows up with chest pains they should receive a FULL cardiac workup REGARDLESS of history and risk factors,” Dr. Bekker took a step towards Sarah, and grew louder, “If YOU were in the emergency room with CHEST PAIN, would you be anxious?!”

“I- uh-”

“You did NOTHING you should have. ANXIETY is NOT a contraindication for a heart attack, and now this man is dead. Leaving him to die in the waiting room would be more effective,” She spat out, her tone venomous, “Psych residents, I swear. God, isn’t anyone in this hospital competent?”

Sarah was out of the room before she even knew she was moving. Her feet dragged her away and her heart was practically leaping out of her chest. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she started chewing on her tongue to avoid letting them go. She clenched her fists as Dr. Charles called her name.

“Dr. Reese! I was paged to the ED, something about you?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” She pushed past him, and he grabbed her arm.

“Sarah,” He whispered, “Go sit in my office when you’re done. I’m going to finish rounds. We’ll talk when I’m done,” He started to walk away, before turning around, “You’re not in trouble, Sarah, I just want to understand what happened.”

Sarah pushed open the swinging door to the women’s bathroom, bolted into the nearest stall and slammed the door shut. She sat down and started sobbing.

I’m in love with her.

She choked on her own snot, and ripped off a piece of toilet paper to blow her nose.

I’m in love with her, and she hates me.

She let out a wail.

i’m in love with her, she hates me, and I failed her.

The bathroom door opened.

“Sarah?”

Sarah held her breath, pulled her knees up to her chest to avoid making any noise.

“I don’t think she’s in here,” Sarah heard April, a gentle voice amongst the madness.

Sarah heard a pager beep.

“Ugh, I have a heart transplant. Whatever, send a note to Dr. Charles and let him know I was looking for her.”

She wants to yell at me some more. She wants to hurt me. She somehow knows about me and I’m going to get fired. I’m going to get fired and be all alone. She knows about me and she’s going to hurt me and I’m going to get fired.

They left, and Sarah let out her breath and let her feet fall to the floor. She blew her nose again, and took a deep, shaking breath. She stood up, and leaned her forehead against the stall door. She took her hair down from it’s low ponytail, and shook it out. She grabbed a piece of her hair and started absentmindedly braiding it - an old anxious habit.

A few minutes and three braids later, she opened the stall door and stared into the mirror in front of her. She wiped away her tears, approached the sink, and splashed water on her face, soaking one of her messy braids in the process. She dried with a thin paper towel, took another shaky, deep breath. She grabbed a helping of hand sanitizer on her way out of the bathroom. Force of habit. Even leaving her bedroom at home she sometimes tries to push the sanitizer button, even though it isn’t there.

Sarah practically ran to Dr. Charles’s office, hurriedly taking her braids out and running her hands through her tangled hair.

She unlocked Dr. Charles’s office door with her key, and closed the door behind her. She did not turn the lights on. Instead, she made a beeline for the couch. There was a throw blanket stored under one of the cushions, and she pulled it over her after grabbing it. She covered her face with a pillow, and screamed into it.

“Sarah?”

She forcefully uncovered her face, before relaxing once she saw it was just Daniel.

“Sarah,” He inquired, sitting down at his desk, “What happened today?”

Sarah sniffled, “I misdiagnosed a heart attack as a panic attack,” She choked out, “Mid-30s male presenting with shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, anxiety, healthy weight, vegetarian, panicking with a history of social anxiety, currently experiencing work-related stress, no family history of heart disease, nothing.”

Dr. Charles sighed, “Common mistake. Hardly something to have a-”

“He died, Dr. Charles,” She cried, “He’s dead.”

Dr. Charles’s face hardened, “I see,” He faltered.

“And- And Ava, God, Ava…” She pressed her hand to her forehead, “She yelled at me in the middle of the ED, and she said I was incompetent and-” She choked out a sob, “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Sarah,” Dr. Charles’s tone softened, “She’s just… She’s just angry. She won’t be angry forever.”

“I just really messed up today,” Sarah swiped her tears away with trembling hands.

“You did,” Dr. Charles agreed, “You did mess up today, but-”

“I’m going to get sued-”

“Sarah.”

“I’m going to lose my residency and I don’t have a fallback plan, I’m in so much debt and so much trouble-”

“Sarah, you’re not going to lose your residency,” Dr. Charles yelled, and Sarah fell silent. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for yelling at you, but you’re not going to lose your residency. Every single doctor has a misdiagnosis in their career, it’s just part of the job.”

“But he died. And it’s my fault.”

“Sarah, you are going to lose patients. And sometimes it’s going to be your fault,” He reasoned, “You’re a good doctor, Sarah, you’re a good doctor who made a mistake. You want to know what happened during my residency? I diagnosed a teenage girl experiencing vomiting and lack of appetite with bulimia,” He raised his eyebrows at Sarah, “She died of malnutrition. Autopsy showed she had ulcers all along her digestive tract,” He shrugged, “She was in too much pain to eat! But all I saw was a sickly thin teenage girl that was vomiting and couldn’t eat.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“The point is, things happen. Death happens. Sometimes, conditions disguise as one another. Medicine is hardly ever an exact science,” Dr. Charles pointed out, “Human error is expected, you’re not going to get fired, and you’re probably not going to get sued. Mr. Nearling presented with no typical risk factors of a heart attack, and all the typical risk factors and symptoms of a panic attack. Did you purposefully ignore Mr. Nearling’s heart attack?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Boom,” Dr. Charles threw his hands up in front of him, “You had no malicious intent. You made a mistake, a common mistake, on a patient that didn’t present typically, and it had consequences.”

Sarah nodded.

Dr. Charles sighed, and looked at Sarah with a look of sympathy, “And now it will never happen again, right?”

She nodded.

“You’re going to take complaints with these symptoms more seriously?”

She nodded.

“You’re not a bad doctor, Sarah, you’re just a human,” He said, “In med school they always teach you what someone who has a heart attack looks like, just like they taught me what someone who has an eating disorder looks like. You just have to learn to get past that phenotype and look deeper.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“Look... This is hard. I get it,” Dr. Charles sighed, “Just... go home, Sarah. Take a breather.”

“What?”

“Go home. Come back in a few days. Take a break.”

“Yes sir,” She said, quietly, before standing up to leave.

-

-

(A/N) thanks for reading :) i’m going to build on this at some point and write a follow-up to this one shot. hope you enjoyed! this is a foundation for the parts i want to write, so it doesn’t have too much about sarah’s actual transition. i am so sorry for making ava be mean :(( EDIT: If you liked this, check this out bc I am continuing it!

[jinmindeulle]

hot chocolate | jyh (2)

part 2/3

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 jeong yunho x reader, yang hongseok x reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 2.4 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff / enemies to lovers au, tv news au, newsanchor!yunho x newsanchor!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 mentions of sex and cursing

main masterlist | ateez masterlist

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚

To say that it was her fifth mental breakdown of the day was an understatement.

Y/n was preparing the report that her boss had asked her as the last part of her application for the job. It was just a simple story that she would later have to present on the live show right after Yunho’s. She had decided to talk about important women around the world as she felt confident in that area. She knew a lot about the topic of feminism and the importance of speaking up. That, however, didn’t spare her from feeling like a total failure when she asked Hongseok to proofread the script for her and he made a face.

“Are you sure you are not going to go off at a tangent if you talk about this topic? You know that your speech should flow, and when you are talking about something that you are passionate about or you know a lot of, you usually beat about the bush”

“What do you suggest? Changing the topic last minute?” she whined, plopping down Hongseok’s couch, right next to him.

“Narrow it down. You’re being too general here. Be more specific and don’t talk just to show off”

“Got it” y/n snatched the paper away from her friend and went back to her ‘workplace’ — Hongseok’s kitchen table.

Editing scripts was the part that she hated the most. Her usual job rarely involved that, because she was in charge of doing the research, checking and double-checking sources and outlining the report. Sometimes she wrote them just to avoid loosing that side of the job, but her department co-workers were the ones who proofread and corrected the script multiple times, not y/n.

That’s why she was staying the night at Hongseok’s. He was an expert in that field, his job as a script-writer for the Night Show helping him improve his skills more and more with every new story. What took the man a couple of hours to finish, took y/n her whole Saturday afternoon, and if it wasn’t for him, she would probably spend her entire weekend crying over her script.

“How’s that going?” Hongseok approached her from behind, placing his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder, rapidly scanning the words on her screen.

“Check yourself” she yawned, throwing her head backwards and accommodating it on the space between his neck and shoulder.

“Why don’t you have a warm shower? I have already called the pizza place and it won’t take long for them to arrive”

The girl sleepily nodded and left the chair as soon as her friend released her. He took her seat to keep reading her script, so she moved quickly to the bathroom. Now undressed and with the water warming up, she stretched her back, putting her hair up on a messy bun that prevented it from getting soaked. As soon as she entered the steamy shower, her mind took off.

And it landed on Jeong Yunho. Was that even necessary? She scoffed, turning around to make the hot water ease some of the back pain.

She would never admit it, but back then she had had a massive crush on him. Who would blame her, though? He was the most handsome man around campus, and he was all the time smiling. He had that special grin of his that lit up the darkest room.

But he had never showed that side of his to her. Maybe because she was his only competition in college who could actually beat his perfect records, or maybe because she was all the time with Hongseok. The truth was that Yunho had always avoided and ignored her every time she had dared to speak to him outside college hours.

So it had come as a surprise seeing him at the Seoul Morning News’ building two years before. She had been working there for a couple of months, and all of her ex-classmates knew that thanks to Hongseok, who proudly told the world about her rapid success. Why would he ever apply for a job that involved working with a person he hates? She never understood that, but at the same time didn’t even bother to question his decision.

An hour later and with a full stomach, y/n was all spread on Hongseok’s couch, her head on his thigh and his hands massaging her scalp “You’re too good to me, Hongie” she whispered, hugging his leg.

“I just love you” he replied. Out of shock, she sat up in a matter of milliseconds and looked at him with wide eyes “Don’t be silly. Not like that” he laughed, patting her head “I love you as a friend, and I love fucking you as a friend too”

“I saw my life flashing in front of my eyes for a second” she heavily breathed out, placing her hand on her chest, right on her heart.

“I’m sorry” he grinned, placing a soft kiss on her lips “I like messing around with you sometimes”

“Sometimes?” she raised one eyebrow, sitting on his lap and straddling his waist with her legs.

“Well, that depends what kind of ‘messing’ you are referring to” he smirked, rubbing his hands up and down her lower back.

“Why don’t you show me?”

“My pleasure, hun”

“I messed up” she cried, holding her phone with shaky hands “I messed up so bad, Hong”

“Why? What happened?” his concern was tangible even through the phone.

“I went blank for I don’t know how long. I completely forgot about my script and had to improvise a section of it. It was terrible. I’m a failure, and I’m not going to get the job at all. He was perfect. Yunho was amazing, as he always is. And I won’t blame Mr. Jung when he chooses him because he deserves that place more than anyone in here” y/n sobbed, sitting down on her desk, feeling how the shame and humiliation drowned her in tears.

“Y/n, I’m sure you’re just exagg-”

“I’m not, Hongseok! It was the worst thing I have ever done. I messed up and I know that. I missed the chance to get the job of my dreams. And I will never get another one of this”

When she decided that it was time to let her friend do his job in peace, she realized that she could not to go back outside of her office and face her co-workers who were expecting her to keep on her daily work without recomposing herself first. With heavy steps, she entered her little toilet and removed all of her make up. Washing it off and doing it again was the only reasonable option. Some minutes later, she found herself looking way better, but just hoping for her puffy eyes to go back to normal in a couple of hours top.

She left her office with her heard high but avoiding eye contact. It was hard to admit, but she knew that all of them had seen her embarrass herself in front of their boss. How was she supposed to come back from that? Her reputation was a joke right now.

“Miss Lee, I want to speak with you for a second”

Her eyes opened widely upon hearing her boss’ voice behind her. She turned around in a slow manner, reminding herself not to cry in front of him “Sure” Following the petit man to his office, she took some deep breaths to keep her heart from pounding that hard against her chest.

“So” Mr. Jung spoke up once they were settled “How do you feel?”

Y/n heavily exhaled and looked down, playing with the end of her black pencil skirt, a bad habit of hers when she felt anxious “I could have done much better”

“I believe just the same, my dear. I understand that you were nervous, though. It felt the same for me when I was the one being tried, so don’t worry too much. I know your potential” the man smiled, leaning over his desk “That’s why I’m giving you the job”

She had to have heard him wrong. He was giving her the position after messing up like that on her one and only chance? Was he even there when she went blank on national television?

“Wha-” she cut herself off, feeling how a thousand different emotions flowed inside her body.

“You showed me that you have the skills to be in front of the camera with a script, and without one. It was impressive, how in a matter of seconds you were able to keep on talking with Taeki about the issue like nothing had happened, like you never got lost in your own world”

“But I did get lost” she mumbled, feeling the tears blurring her vision once again.

“So what? It is not about following the script all the time, y/n. You are a professional when you know how to manage, how to get yourself out of a problem in just seconds. Everyone is talking about that, and you should be proud of yourself”

“I… I can’t believe this” she let out a laugh, completely out in disbelief.

“And you know what? You were so good that even Yunho decided to let you have the job”

The tears that had gathered in her eyes fell down her face altogether upon hearing Mr. Jung’s confession “What?” y/n asked, completely out of shock.

“As you hear it. He came to me an hour or so after we finished, and told me that you deserved the job more than he did. That you were capable of that and even more. I didn’t know that you went to college together! You didn’t seem like you were friends to me”

“We are not friends, Mr. Jung” y/n shook her head, drying her tears with the back of her hand “I can’t believe he told you that”

“Me neither. He seemed really enthusiastic about this job last week. But anyways, congratulations! Your training starts tomorrow. We have just a few days to get you ready to be our new news’ anchor”

She left that office with the most contradicting feelings she had ever felt. Of course, she was overjoyed. The fucking job of her damned dreams was hers! She had failed the task, but she got it despite of it. However, the fact that Yunho had given up his chance just to let her have it was not leaving her heart anytime soon. Why would he do that? He would never abandon such an opportunity just because she deserved it. Who thought like that nowadays? Who was that selfless?

Apparently, Yunho was. So she decided to wait for him outside the building three hours later. She knew he had the same schedule as Jaehyun, who always left half an hour after her.

Winter was her favourite season. Wearing long coats and fluffy scarves was her most enjoyable activity. But sometimes, having snow falling on her when she was out and about bothered her a little. Not like she was willing to admit that, especially to Hongseok, who defended summer with all of his passion. Luckily for her, the hot chocolate cups that she was holding kept her hands warm.

Just when she was about to leave, assuming that Yunho had left earlier, she distinguished his large frame going out of the building. He was busy putting on his gloves, so he never realized she was standing right next to him. She faked a cough, and it took a couple more to make him aware of her presence.

“Oh-sorry! My mind was somewhere else. How are you?” he smiled at her, and this time, it felt real. He had no second intentions, no secret plans. Just a genuine smile.

“I’m happy” she admitted, a little smile plastered on her own lips “Mr. Jung gave me the job”

“Right! I heard about that. Congratulations, y/n, you really deserve it. And I mean it”

“You know…” she replied, tearing her eyes away from his, which were looking at her with great intensity “He told me that you gave up the job”

Maybe it was because of the cold, but Yunho’s cheeks were painted a deep shade of pink. He looked across the street, shoving his hands on his coat’s pockets, and fought back a nervous smile.

“Why would you do that?” she pushed, taking advantage of his panicky state.

“You were the best candidate out of the two of us”

“That’s not what I want, Yunho” she scoffed “You made it clear that you would fight for the job, and that you always won. What happened today?”

“Nothing”

Y/n sighed. He was a hard one.

“Yunho, don’t be like that. I messed up and you did an outstanding job. You were the one who deserved that position, and you know that. So why? Why would you give it up?”

“I heard you crying” he confessed, looking at her right in the eye “I heard you when you told Hongseok that it was your dream job, and I just couldn’t do it. How awful as a person would I be to tear your dreams apart when I have the power to just help them become a reality? I know that you think of me as a selfish, competitive bastard. But I’m not like that. It was just-”

“A façade” she interrupted him, feeling how her eyes flooded with tears “But you just put it out for me”

Yunho sighed, and cursed with a deep mumble.

“It’s okay” y/n shook her head, fighting the tears back “You don’t have to explain anything. I get that you don’t like m-”

“It’s not that, y/n, it’s not that at all” the boy took his hands out of his pockets and placed them on the sides of her arms.

“Really, Yunho, don’t worry about that. I just wanted to thank you. I’m not sure if I deserve that but I’ll make sure not to let you down” she exhaled heavily, taking a step back in order to leave “Oh! I almost forgot” she extended one of her arms towards him “This is for you. I know that you don’t like coffee so I bought hot chocolate instead. As a thank you” she smiled weakly.

And with that she left Yunho behind, standing all by himself under the falling snow, and looking at the paper cup with disbelief. She had remembered.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

[loki-hargreeves]

Loki x Reader - Wounds

Warnings: mild gore, close description of wound cleaning, blood, hurt/comfort, fluff, sexual tension, masochism/woundplay (very subtle), implied smut Word Count: 3,7K+ Summary: Loki returns from a mission, wounded. He pretends to be fine but the reader sees through that. She offers to clean his wound and the sexual tension between the two of them grows. At some point, they can’t ignore it anymore. Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a fluffy one-shot, but @godidontevenknowwhat​ kind of inspired me to choose the dirtier route. 

Loki was stubborn.

Perhaps it was in his secretive nature to keep his issues to himself, afraid that by asking for help he would appear weak or vulnerable. It wasn’t entirely Loki’s fault, Y/N knew that. His past was incredibly complicated, which resulted in Loki’s unusual stubbornness and unwillingness to accept other people’s aid. Trying to get close to him was like trying to boil water on an instant – impossible. It required a lot of patience and time, but in the end, it was worth it.

Today was one of the more difficult days.

Loki, who had recently joined the Avengers on several missions now that he lived on earth, returned from a dangerous mission. He claimed that he was fine, but the way he walked, avoiding putting his weight on his left foot gave it away. He was hurt and Y/N wasn’t going to let him ignore his injuries. Seeing him like that broke her heart a little bit. They had been close for months now. In her mind, they were clearly friends - if not more.

As the others stayed in the common room to discuss the mission, Loki retreated to his quarters. Y/N followed him closely, leaving the others behind. She hadn’t been on the mission as she had been busy in New York, dealing with politicians who wanted to stick their noses into the Avengers business again. It was more than just frustrating, but she didn’t want to think about it now. She was worried about Loki.

Once she found herself behind his closed door, she knocked on it three times. “Loki? It’s me, can I come in?”

She heard him sigh deeply before replying, “Come in.”

The door was surrounded by a green film of magic that turned the doorknob and opened the door to her. Y/N knew Loki possessed great magic, but it never failed to amaze her. Even something as simple as him opening and closing doors with magic was astonishing. She walked in and the door closed behind her. Loki was sitting on his bed, crouching forward as his large hand held onto his ribcage tightly. Despite how clear it was to her that he was in pain, Loki tried to act as if nothing was wrong.

“What happened?” Y/N wanted to know, walking further inside the large room carefully. The green curtains had been pulled in front of the windows, but the room was lit by candles and the ceiling light. Loki’s scent was so strong in the room that it almost made Y/N swoon, but she had a strong grip on herself. She didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of Loki, now did she.

“I knew you’d ask,” Loki chuckled, and his rosy lips curled into an evident smirk.

“You’re avoiding my question,” Y/N noticed that Loki didn’t continue to speak after that.

His smirk stilled and he tried to sit up straight. He couldn’t escape her watchful eye. “I might’ve stepped on an explosive-“

“Loki!” Y/N gasped, shocked to hear his opening sentence. “Are you alright?” Without giving it much thought, she rushed to his side. She took a look at him, trying to find signs of great injuries, but failed. It took her a while to recover from the initial shock. How was he still in one piece?

“I’m a god, Y/N. I’ll survive. Something as small as that explosive couldn’t possibly wipe me off the surface of Midgard,” He tried to reassure her that everything was alright.

Somehow, Y/N didn’t believe that he had escaped that without any harm whatsoever. She didn’t want him to be in pain, to suffer alone. “You’re hurt though,” She tested the waters.

Loki sighed, again. He didn’t want to lie to her out of all people. She had a funny way of finding out about the truth of most things sooner or later. Besides, being vulnerable around her wasn’t that bad. Loki had grown quite fond of her and he had to admit that he enjoyed the attention she gave him. At first, he couldn’t understand why she cared. He was almost infuriated by the affectionate words and gazes, but now he had learned to like that. Now he often found himself wanting more, but he never acted out on that wish.

Silently, he stood up from the bed, now standing close to her. She didn’t step further away from him as neither one of them minded the closeness. Loki raised his wrist, using his magic to discard himself of his heavy, battle clothes, leaving him in his emerald green robe and black pants. “The ceiling in the base collapsed and I got a splinter in my side. How unfortunate,” Loki played it off cool as he opened his robe, revealing his bare chest underneath.

At first, Y/N was taken back by the fact that Loki was slowly undressing himself right in front of her. His tones chest was only a foot away from the tip of her nose and she played with the idea of letting her hands roam over his body. Quickly, her focus shifted to the wound in his side. He had pulled out whatever had pierced his flesh, but it had left behind a nasty injury. He was still bleeding!

“Loki…” Y/N struggled to find the right words. Seeing him like that and knowing he must’ve been in pain hurt her. She wanted to make him feel better.

“Don’t worry about it. In two days, it’ll be impossible to tell it was ever there,” He explained casually.

“Well I’m not going to stand by and let you suffer for two days,” She told him. Y/N knew how to be stubborn too. “Let me at least clean it for you, okay?”

Loki narrowed his jade eyes, looking at her properly for the first time that day. He noticed that she seemed genuinely worried about him. Her eyes that were usually so full of joy and light were now glossy. Was she truly upset that he was in pain? He didn’t know what to think of it. Suddenly, Loki felt nervous. His cheeks felt warm as blood rushed to his face and he had to avoid her gaze. “If that’ll make you feel better,” He gave her his verbal permission to do what she pleased.

Thank goodness, Y/N thought as Loki surrendered to her help. “Just wait here, I’ll grab the essentials,” She told him as calmly as she could, focusing entirely on cleansing his wound.

Quickly, she turned around to go to his bathroom, knowing that there was a first-aid kit in there, somewhere. She could’ve sworn that the Avengers compound had more first-aid kits than anything else they could need. It didn’t take long until she found the little red box from the cabinet. She grabbed that along with a roll of toilet paper – If things got messy. Then she returned to Loki who was comfortably sprawled on his bed. He seemed exhausted. Poor thing.

Oh, what she’d do to rest by his side, to let her hands dance across his skin. Perhaps she could catch a kiss or two, or let her lips trace the skin of his neck…

Focus! Y/N told herself as she put the essentials on the bed and then crawled on the soft mattress herself. She sat as comfortably as she could next to Loki so that his wound was easily reached. There was dry blood surrounding it and it was beginning form a crust, but the wound itself looked painful and fresh blood coated it. To stop the bleeding, she grabbed a generous amount of cotton and pressed it on it, watching how the crimson red blood soaked the white material within seconds.

“Were you just going to let yourself bleed out for two days?” Y/N wondered as she sat there, hoping to avoid an awkward silence. It was rare between the two of them as they often found themselves lost in conversation. Somehow this moment felt different, more intimate.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” He shrugged. He couldn’t be serious.

The scars all over his torso let her believe that he was serious. Sure, he had lived much longer than any mortal and seen battles that didn’t compare to the mission he had been on. But it didn’t mean eh deserved to be in pain.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Y/N shifted the focus from the wound to the fact he was alive and considerably well. The thought of losing him, even if he was just a friend, was terrifying. It was quite unlikely due to his strength, but nothing was impossible.

Loki felt his tongue turn heavier by the second as he heard that. He appreciated her care, but he struggled to find the right words to answer her with. It had been so long since he experienced this, that someone genuinely cared about him. Most people stuck around him because he was royalty. Others tried to get closer to Thor via Loki. Y/N didn’t have any ill intentions.

“It would be unfortunate if I passed this early. I’ve still got plenty of people to piss off,” Loki joked after a brief moment of silence. When Y/N giggled in response, he felt a strange sense of pride. He liked making her laugh and listening to that sweet sound was like music to his ears.

             Eventually, the bleeding stopped so Y/N removed the cotton. Before she could close the wound, she would have to clean it properly. Unless Loki wanted water soaked on his bed, he had to move to the shower. “I need you in the shower for the next part,” She explained as she gathered the dirty cotton balls into her hands so she could throw them away.

“Oh, are you joining me?” Loki teased her, hoping to shift the attention away from him to her. Besides, he thought she looked cute whenever she was flustered.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” She rolled her eyes as the two of them made their way to the bathroom, which was far more elegant that Y/N had expected. It was clearly built while keeping the resident in mind, it looked like it could belong to a palace. The shower was huge, and it had a seat in the corner, built into the wall. It was perfect.

While ignoring her heart that was beating a little too fast in her chest, Y/N made Loki sit on the shower stool. She grabbed the showerhead and made sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold. She was happy that the water supply in the compound was clean which made it so much easier to rinse wounds. Using alcohol was unnecessary, at least when it came to a wound like this.

Carefully, she placed the showerhead over the wound and washed away the dry blood. It only took seconds for the crimson wound to change into a fleshy colour, looking better already. The blood really made everything seem worse.

“Your clothes are getting wet,” Loki stated the obvious. He could’ve easily done this himself, but he wasn’t going to argue with her.

“So are yours, smartass,” Y/N smiled, calling him that jokingly.

Although the water wasn’t even that warm, the air in the bathroom felt hotter by the second. Y/N would’ve loved to get rid of her outer layer of clothes, but she refused to do so in the shower. Besides, her clothes got wet and it stuck to her skin awkwardly, not leaving too much to the imagination.

“Once I’m done with you, you should be as good as new,” Y/N assured him happily. A dry spot of blood refused to dissolve with the water, so Y/N put her thumb over his skin, ever so carefully rubbing the blood off. The last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him. She noticed how her touch made Loki’s abdominal muscles tense underneath her hand, which she ignored to avoid making things strange.

“Uh…that’s great,” Loki mumbled quietly. Why did her touch make him act that way? It felt like his thoughts were racing when her hand rested on his belly.

“I think that’s good,” Y/N turned off the waterflow and placed the showerhead on its rightful place. She stood up and looked at her soaked clothes with a smile, laughing as water followed her steps, forming a wet path.

Loki did not want that water on his bed, which gave him an idea. “You can borrow my clothes until you get your own. That is, unless you like to be wet and cold,” He didn’t think about his voice of words until it was too late. Damn. He hated how he felt like a young fool around her, thinking twice over a word as simple as ‘wet’. Yet, he did, and he couldn’t help it.

“I’d appreciate that, Loki,” Y/N brushed it off and returned his kindness with a smile.

It didn’t take long until they were both in dry clothes. Loki changed his robe and put on sweatpants, something he had grown fond of during his time on Midgard. The people sure knew how to make comfortable clothes. He left his robe open and lied down on his bed again so Y/N could finish what she had started.

She was wearing one of Loki’s many, surprisingly comfortable robes. She wrapped it tightly around her body and savoured the moment. Being wrapped in the silky material that smelled so strongly of Loki felt lovely. Would he notice if she borrowed it for longer than one night?

With clean hands, she grabbed tweezers so she could pull out the tiny splinters from his wound that she noticed while she was washing it. There were only a few of them, but she was determined to get them all out of his body.

“This might hurt,” Y/N warned him as she carefully began to work on the wound again.

“Maybe I like a little pain,” Loki hinted mysteriously, unintentionally making Y/N grow nervous again. He had noticed how recently his words captured her, made her avoid eye contact and sometimes she’d play with the hem of her shirt nervously. Making her flustered was fun, but he wasn’t too harsh on her. As much fun as it was, Loki couldn’t avoid the deeper truth behind it. She wasn’t flustered for no reason and he didn’t enjoy for no reason either.

One splinter was out. Loki had barely noticed it at all.

Y/N put the bloody splinter on his chest, too lazy to get up and throw it in the bin just yet. “I don’t understand how you step on an explosive, get buried by a ceiling and walk out of that in one piece,” Y/N wanted to talk about the mission.

“That’s where magic comes in handy,” Loki explained, wiggling his fingers playfully. “Besides, the ceiling debris didn’t weigh much.”

“What happened to the enemy?” Y/N wondered as she tried to pull out the larger splinter. It was harder than she imagined at first.

“They tried to escape, but we caught them by the entrance. Thor used his- ah!” Loki suddenly moaned in pain, which interrupted whatever he was about to say. Instinctively, his hand wrapped around her wrist. Y/N had pulled the splinter out and she figured it must’ve hurt him.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she felt guilty, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay!” Loki’s pale cheeks turned red, a rosy colour that spread to his ears as well. Was he blushing? Y/N found it much cuter than she should’ve, especially considering the situation. Her brain began to work in order to understand what happened and she concluded that he was either embarrassed or that Loki liked it.

Once her brain connected Loki with masochism, there was no turning back.

Little did she know that she was right. Loki liked that a little bit too much. He was unsure whether he should ignore what just happened or make her do it again. Her touch had been so gentle, so caring which already messed with his mind. When she insisted they would go in the shower together, Loki was almost baffled by disbelief. Seeing her in there, soaked by the warm water, on her knees right in front of him, his mind had gone to extremely sinful places.

Now this.

This made his thoughts somehow worse.

Loki hadn’t been joking when he said he liked a little bit of pain.

Their eyes met and Loki knew it was be delusional to believe they could move on as if nothing happened. His hand was still holding onto her wrist, but neither one of them was pulling away.

He cleared his throat, “It’s okay, Y/N.”

Gently, he pulled her hand back to his wound. It took every ounce of strength he had not to pull her onto his lap like he desired to do. Instead, he let go of her wrist and muttered, “Just…continue, if you’d like.”

Nervously, Y/N nodded and decided to finish this. Her hands were shaking now which made it harder to pull out the splinters. They both avoided each other’s gazes and a silence lingered around them.

It was quiet until Y/N was ready to wrap it up. “I need you to sit,” She explained while grabbing bandages from the small first-aid kit.

Loki did as he had been told and sat up. His wound already felt much better, but that wasn’t what he was focused on now. Y/N had completely taken over his mind, lurking in his every thought. He had felt strongly for her for a while now, but this intensified his feelings ten times. Her gentle touch, the intimacy of trusting her with his wound, the nervous touches… and the damn pain that she had accidentally inflicted upon him. It was so wrong, but it had felt so good.

He watched her as she placed a square piece of bandage over his wound and began to tape it down on his skin. Seeing her wrapped up in his robe made Loki feel strangely good. He felt possessive over her, but not in a delusional way. He was protective over her, he cared about her more than he dared to admit. Now she was wrapped in his scent. Anyone who saw her now could see that she wore something of his. Loki enjoyed that a lot. If he had the guts to take a risk, he’d ask her to be his as he would be hers. 

He stayed quiet as she grabbed a softer bandage and rolled it around his waist a few times, scooting closer to him so she could reach around his body. They were so close now. Loki looked at her flustered face, noticing that she was nervous by judging her expression, the way her eyebrows were furrowed together. 

Oh, how he wanted to grab her and kiss her. To smother her with his affection like she did with him. To show her that he cared, even though he seemed cold at times. He had fantasised about it several times before, but the urge had never been this strong before. He yearned for her. It felt like his heart tightened in his chest painfully every time they were close. He nearly lost his breath when they were like this. Loki was surprised by his own feelings. It had been so long since he last craved someone like he craved her.

“You’re all wrapped up,” Y/N was finally done with him. Gently, she patted his stomach, forgetting all about the intimacy. She was going to pull her hand away, already regretting that she touched him when it wasn’t necessary, when Loki grabbed her hand in his own. He had feared she’d pull hers away, but she didn’t.

Their eyes met, both full of questions that no words could answer. Only actions.

Fuck it, Loki thought. Their time together was too short anyway and he felt strangely confident as he did what he had wanted to for so long. Loki pulled Y/N towards him, almost making her lose her balance as she crashed against him. Her impact put pressure on his wound, but it only hurt a little bit which Loki welcomed. Their lips met roughly, and their teeth nearly clashed by the sudden force. As Loki tilted his head, the kiss got more comfortable. Their lips melted against one another and they both felt sparks igniting between them, on their lips and within their hearts.

It felt so right.

Loki tasted her and she was just as sweet as he had thought. He used his other hand to cup the side of her face, his fingertips resting against the back of her head. He felt her pulse underneath his palm, and it relieved him to know he wasn’t the only one whose heart was racing like a wild horse.

They pulled away after a moment, staring at each other curiously, almost in disbelief. Y/N couldn’t believe Loki kissed her. It felt magical. His kiss seemed to put a spell on her, or perhaps it was the burst of joy she felt when she faced him so lovingly.

“Thank you,” Loki smiled, overjoyed at the moment. He had to thank her properly for taking such good care of him.

“I couldn’t let you bleed out, now could I?” She laughed lightly and then glanced at his lips again, feeling like she needed to kiss him again more than she needed air in her lungs. So she did that, closing her eyes as their lips met again. This time it was expected and somehow even better.

Y/N got a boost of confidence from the kiss. She had a strange feeling that Loki wouldn’t mind her as she threw her leg over his lap, straddling him on his bed. Loki welcomed that, holding onto her body to keep her close. She couldn’t believe herself as she leaned her body seductively towards the dark-haired man and grabbed him by his waist, letting her hand linger above his wound. As odd as it was, he seemed to enjoy a little bit of pain. Touching him was so exciting and she wanted more. She longed for more as she felt Loki’s large hands on her body, holding her a little tighter than a friend would.

Loki didn’t want to scare her away from him, but he couldn’t control his body when she grinded her lap against his. Suddenly, his comfortable pants began to feel tight around him. Loki pulled away from the kiss, stopping himself before surely, he’d make her back away. “Y/N- you’re going to drive me mad!” He warned her seriously, yet he didn’t let go of her.

“So be it,” She shrugged, eyes darkened by lust. He was a fool if he thought she didn’t want him as much as he wanted her.

A/N: Well, well, well. You’ve made it to the end. I would appreciate your feedback! Thank you so much for reading this 💕

Reblogs > Likes

[toruhalo]

Psychotic (3/?)

Pairings: Ledger!Joker x Female OC

Wordcount: 1622

Warnings: blood and injury, self-destructive thoughts, threats, manipulation?

previous chapter: 2

A/N: I hope people still read this lol and idk if it’s even good but writing Joker makes me happy

Tranquility. The dense humid air sweeps through the forest floor, leaving behind droplets of water in its wake. She can feel the nearby leaves brushing her calves and fingertips as Violet observes her surroundings. She feels comforted, as if she was surrounded by people who cherished her. In the distance rests a foggy view of a waterfall, glowing green from underneath. Vines begin to entangle and caress her as she walks towards the source of the light.      

"Violet?" the voice whispers.       

"... You okay?"       

She elevates her head from her hands to see Sharpener looking at her with furrowed brows. She blinks to regain her eyesight and leans back in her chair.      

"I-I didn't realize I fell asleep. Sorry..."      

Sharpener chuckled, "It's okay, if my story was so boring you could've told me."      

Violet smiles and begins to daintily pick at her food in her tray. Her thoughts begin turning to the dream she just had. The environment she recalled made her ache to witness it once again, as it conveyed a feeling of belonging. A feeling Violet isn't familiar with.      

"Blonde Barbie, two o'clock," Sharpener snickers.      

Violet looks up at the cafeteria counter to instantly see the one and only Doctor Harleen Quinzel. She quickly grabs two trays of decent looking food from one of the workers and makes her way out of the room. Violet huffs and takes a bite out of her bland, discolored lasagna. She knew that Joker was currently having a session with Harleen, so was she getting lunch for the two of them? A date?     

"Woah there, what'd that spork do to you?" Sharpener slides the plastic utensil from her deathly grip. Flecks of blood followed the movement and pooled in her palm. Sharpener grimaced and handed her his leftover napkin.     

"T-thank you. I wasn't thinking," she mumbles.     

"Clearly..."     

The two fell into mutual silence while the rest of the cafeteria continuously grew louder. Violet's thoughts instantly began to swarm her mind while mindlessly finishing her lunch. She recalls the time Joker reassured her that he was only using Harleen for his own gain, but as days passed she began to consider, what if he was lying to gain her trust? She didn't know him very well, but she suspects no one does. Why would J like her out of all people, if he could even like anyone that way.     

“You gonna tell me why you got so angry when you saw that doctor?" Sharpener inquires.     

"I-I don't l-like her very much."     

Sharpener laughs, "I can tell that much. Is she your psychiatrist?"    

"No... She's my fr-" Violet stopped herself. Was J even her friend? What was he to her? A silly crush at the most, she thought. "Someone I-I talk to is her p-patient."     

"Hmm. And here I thought I was the only one you talked to..." Sharpener jokes. "Who is it? You don't have to tell me, I wouldn't care much."     

"The J-Joker," Violet mumbles. She figured it might help to talk about him to someone else, other than Doctor LeLand who clearly doesn't perceive him in a good light.     

Sharpener furrows his brow, "Are you sure it's him?" Violet nods. "Huh. You're the last person I would think who would have enough balls to even look at him, let alone hold conversations with him."     

 Violet freezes and slowly picks up her tray. "And y-you're the last person I would think to say t-that to me." She stands up and makes her way to the trash cans, leaving a stunned Sharpener behind.

    The bed frame squeals loudly as Violet harshly sits down on top of it, not even bothering watching the guard lock her cell door, as she routinely does. She could feel her eyes start to burn with fresh tears as she tried calming herself down. Yet to no avail, one leaks as she's overwhelmed from her deteriorating self-worth. The more she thought, the more she agreed with what Sharpener said. Joker was the one who started talking to her, Joker was the one who prompted the conversations. She had nothing to give to J. She was worthless, and she can't even talk without stuttering. Her parents were right about everything; she realized. J had to be manipulating her, she couldn't think of another reason why he would talk to her so much.     

The sound of a door creaking open swayed her out of her manic state. She shifts to unfortunately see Joker standing in her cell, same as the day he lied to her about Harleen. He smiles slyly and holds up an ID card of an Arkham employee in his stained hand.     

"Here's the secret to the magic trick. Figured I might as well, uh, show ya."     

Violet quickly wipes away her tears and turns her head opposite of him. She could already feel his attentive gaze burning a hole in her head, which made her heart rate increase from merely thinking about it. As she didn't respond, Joker took a seat next to her, tapping the card against his palm in frustration. She could still feel his eyes roaming her and even heard his breaths coming out of his nose. He suddenly huffs and stands up, walking to the toilet sink combo in the corner of the cell. He promptly tears off toilet paper, wets it in the sink and walks back to the low bed. J stops in front of Violet and crouches on one knee, causing them roughly to be the same height. Violet's heart is now pumping furiously in her chest now, and she's sure Joker can overhear it from how close he is.     

Still refusing to look at him, she jumps when he grasps her injured hand and turns her palm upwards. Joker glides the water soaked toilet paper onto her hand, gently cleaning up the dried smeared blood.     

"You don't, uh, belong here, doll. You and me both. We belong out in the city of darkness. Causing chaos. We can't be restrained. We're like, uh, wild animals. If we're kept inside a... cage, we'll itch to get out, so we can live." He threw the bloody wad of toilet paper over his shoulder and grabbed Violet's other hand in his own.     

"That's why I'm getting us out of here. I can see it's, uh, eating you up inside."     

 "Why me?" Violet whispers.     

 Joker laughs through his nose, "Because, my porcelain doll. You have yet to live up to your full potential." He slowly retracts his hands from hers and stands back up. Violet already feels cold without his rare touch. "We'll, uh, talk more tomorrow."

    Weeks pass until the two decide to put their escape plan into action. Violet had forgiven Sharpener the day after he insulted her, as he sincerely apologized. Now, she was trying to convince Joker to bring him with them during their escape.     

"He can't come," Joker almost growls.     

"W-why not? He's nice to me and he's been in here a w-while."     

  "I don't care if he's the nicest guy in the world. He's not coming."    

"What if he a-agrees to work for you?"     

J sighs and cracks his neck. Violet continues to look at him with her puppy dog eyes, never looking away. Joker chuckles and leans towards her, entangling his hand in her long hair.     

"How about... I, uh, come meet him...and decide for myself. Would you be happy then and, uh, stop nagging me?"

Having J with Violet during lunchtime is a strange sensation. Him being next to her, causes all eyes to be on them at all times. He's a notorious criminal, who has never stepped foot in the cafeteria. That would make anyone stare at him. However, Violet seems to be the only one affected by it. J is humming to himself while eating her pudding, not bothered by the dozens of gazes on himself and his companion.     

"Aren't ya... gonna eat that?" He points at her breadstick.     

"I-I don't like to eat when p-people are staring."     

 Joker hums and sets his pudding cup down.

"They're harmless. Just a bit... looney," he chuckles. That doesn't seem to ease her worries, so he stands up at the table. "If you, uh, keep staring at us like the creeps you are, I'll, uh, cut your tongues out of your mouths in your sleep," he exclaims with malice.     

 Instantly, everyone looks away, no set of eyes are locked on the pair anymore. Violet smiles and picks up her breadstick she was craving.     

"T-thank you," Violet says before taking a bite.     

"...It was becoming, uh, irritating."     

Sharpener finally shows up at the table, setting his tray down next to Violet's. His brows are furrowed in confusion at the intruder, nudging Violet to get an answer.    

 "O-oh, hi Sharpie."     

 "Sharpie?" Joker questions.     

Sharpener coughs and sits down, "I guess that's a nickname of my nickname."     

J turns back to his pudding and eats a spoonful. Violet can tell Joker doesn't like Sharpener already, but it won't hurt to try harder.     

"S-sharpener has e-experience of working for someone. I-I think he could be h-helpful to you, J," Violet takes a deep breath after finishing her sentence.     

Joker eats another bite and talks with his mouth full, "For who?"     

"Sal Maroni. He died in a car crash, so I lost my job and eventually ended up here."     

J laughs and swallows the last of the pudding, "How, uh, unfortunate... But, I work very differently from Mister Maroni."     

"I've noticed... But I don't care who or what my boss does, I just do what they ask of me."    

Joker looks at Violet between the two men who's staring at her food, "If he screws me over, I'll screw you over, dollface."

[chi-e-il-tuo-papa]

3.4

After some careful consideration, I decided that I’d take her to get cleaned up somewhat. I would have preferred to just take her outside and hose her off, but I couldn’t risk anyone seeing us there. The bathtub would have to do this time. I went in and filled up the tub, and then came back into the room and sat down on the bed beside her. I untied the hood and took it off of her head, and looked her in the eyes as she lay there, blinking up at me. I told her that I was going to allow her to take a bath, but she better not even think of running away or trying to escape, or I would make her regret it. She nodded up at me and tried to talk around the gag. I unhooked the gag and she took a second to work her jaw, then promised me, swore on her life, that she wouldn’t run. I told her that I didn’t believe her for a second, and that I was nuts to even try to let her do this, but she was starting to stink and I needed to clean her up some before I fucked her anymore. She again swore to obey, and so I uncuffed her ankles and wrists and carefully watched her. She sat up and rubbed her wrists and ankles, because they were sore, and I told her to get moving if she wanted to bathe. She quickly and quietly padded into the bathroom, and I followed her in, locking the door behind us.

She told me that she needed to pee, and I told her that nothing was stopping her from doing so. She told me meekly that she was afraid to pee in front of me, and I told her that I’d already seen every inch of her, so this was nothing new for me. She started to argue and I told her to shut her fucking mouth and pee right now. She sat on the toilet, and before too long, finally managed to pee, an anemic little dribble. She went to wipe and I slapped her hand, telling her she wasn’t worth my toilet paper. She stood up and walked toward the tub, piss dripping down her thighs before she slowly eased herself into the tub. She sank in, up to her neck, enjoying the warmth soothing her sore body. I told her to hurry up, that I wasn’t leaving her in the tub all day. She sat there and soaked for a few minutes, and I reached in to pull out the drain, but she begged me to wait. I told her it was time to get out, and she needed to dry off and get back to work. She was slow getting out so I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the tub, and she slipped and would have fallen and hit her head if I wasn’t holding her. She started to argue with me about snatching her out and I grabbed her by the hair and pushed her face underwater and held her there. She flailed around helplessly beneath me, struggling to get traction and breathe but I was too heavy for her to move. As she began to go limp, I pulled her head out of the water and slapped her across the face. She gasped and coughed, trying to get air into her lungs, and I dragged her by the hair back into the other room.

I didn’t even bother drying her off, I just threw her onto the bed on her back and quickly cuffed her back down. She was crying and choking still, trying to apologize for arguing with me, and I slapped her across the mouth, yelling at her to shut up. I pulled out a pair of nipple clamps with a chain running between them, and clamped them on her nipples. I found the fattest plug I had and shoved it roughly into her asshole. I pinched up her pussy lips and put a binder clip on her clit, making her howl in pain. I found a locking collar and locked it around her neck, then took a chain and pulled it tight, locking it to the top of the bed. I took some random hard paddles and canes and placed them under her back, so she wouldn’t be able to relax into the bed. She kept crying and begging me to stop, apologizing, and I told her that she brought this upon herself. I looked her into the eyes and told her that she was going to learn to enjoy all of this, and she cried and shook her head as best she could, telling me she couldn’t enjoy this, it was too much, even though she wanted to try. I told her to suit herself and went back to rummaging through the toys.

I took one of the canes I had and began to rap her on the bottoms of the feet again. She quickly began to plead, “no no no” but I quickly and sharply rapped her right across her arches, first the right foot, then the left. She howled in pain, and I stopped and put a pair of clothespins on her tongue, then went back to her feet. I caned the bottoms a few times each, before swapping to the tops, adoring the sight of her pale almond skin turning red and swollen. She was sobbing softly to herself and I told her that she should consider herself lucky to learn from me. I reached up and snatched the chain between her nipple clamps, roughly snapping them off both tits, making her scream in pain. I pinched both nipples and pulled harder and harder, stretching her tits out above her as she tried to arch her back to ease the pressure, but the collar and chain keeping her down. I released her nipples and put the clamps roughly back on, before taking the cane and smacking the clip across her clit. I loosened its grasp ever so slightly, and then used the cane to slap it off of her as she shrieked.

As I positioned myself between her thighs again, I looked her in the face and told her that this was what she deserved, I tried to be nice to her and she spit in my face. She apologized again and swore she’d never do such a thing to me, and I told her that she was right, because I’d never show her such generosity again. She begged me to stop this, stop hurting her, and I told her that pain is all she would ever know again. I quickly stuffed my cock inside her pussy, and began pounding her again while pressing down on her sternum, roughly pressing her back into the objects behind her on the bed. I played with the nipple clamps again, pulling and shaking her tits as I fucked her. Her cries became less and less, probably as she guiltily began to succumb to the pleasure her body was showing her. I told her that she had a long life of servitude ahead of her, and that she would learn to enjoy it, or she could just suffer it. She kept saying that it was too much, no no no, she couldn’t, and I just continued pounding her. I roughly grabbed her clit and pinched and she suddenly screamed and came, her cunt spasming around my cock, squeezing so hard that I had to stop fucking her. “What was that about?” I asked her. She turned beet red and wouldn’t reply. I needled her, telling her that she must be enjoying it after all. She feebly nodded, and mumbled something I couldn’t hear. I asked her to repeat, and she shook her head. I grabbed the cane and rubbed it against her foot, and she begged me to stop and promised to tell me what she said. I told her to go ahead.

The first time she said it, I couldn’t hear her, so I made her repeat it louder. I heard it the second time, but couldn’t believe it. I made her repeat it to me again. “I love you.” How did this happen? How could you suddenly love me? I took the clothespins off her tongue to let her speak more clearly. “I was sexually repressed, and shy, and was afraid of sex. I never liked pain before. I feared you, but you awoke something I never knew I had within me.” I told her I didn’t believe her, but she assured me that she was telling me the truth. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

I got between her legs again and began fucking her harder than before, but I also grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled, stretching her cuffed arms and her collared neck. Her voice was faint, but I could hear her begging me to fuck her harder. I obliged, thrusting as hard and as deep as I could every time, without fail. It didn’t take me long to get close, having such a willing participant this time. I stopped and moved up by her head, putting my cock in front of her face and her wasting absolutely no time devouring me. She had limited mobility but made up for it with her desire, sucking frantically, desperately, trying to swallow every inch of it. I quickly lost control and pulled out, exploding all over her face, and she gleefully took every drop of it, not even complaining to get some in her eyes. I collapsed on the bed beside her, and she thanked me profusely for everything I’d done. My head was spinning, both from physical exertion, and from the thoughts racing around my head. What had I done? What would I have her do?

[landlessbud]

i dare u to write something about a javid prank war of sorts.... are they dating? are they rivals? is it friendly or are they actually trying to piss each other off? i’ll leave that up to you 😈

hi so sorry this took so long! fyi my Vision, should i ever continue this, is that this is kind of a roommates -> friends -> enemies -> lovers kinda dealio. enjoy!

“Fucking hell,” Davey groaned, sliding his boot back off. Carefully making sure his soaked sock didn’t seep into the carpet too much, he inspected the inside of his shoe. Remnants of a water balloon stuck to the sides. “Damnit, Jack, you know I don’t have any other boots!”

Davey knew his roommate couldn’t hear him—Jack had left to go to the gym about ten minutes prior to the water balloon incident. Hiking up a snowy hill to his bio lecture in sneakers that were bound to get damp and muddy was not exactly his ideal mid-semester Tuesday afternoon, but it seemed he’d been left no other choice. Perhaps he’d be able to distract himself from near hypothermia by plotting his revenge.

He didn’t hate Jack—they got along quite well as roommates, and Davey was grateful that their random pairing had been successful considering the horror stories he’d gotten from his friends from high school. But why, after three months of getting along quite well, would Jack bury a water balloon in the toe of his left boot?

Jack’s Friday plans were simple: make it through his last midterm of the week, then pass out for the most blissful nap he’d ever taken. Things were, remarkably enough, going as planned for once. Though French definitely wasn’t his best subject, he felt pretty good about how he’d done on the exam. The thought of his shitty dorm mattress had never been more inviting. So as he absentmindedly opened the door to his dorm room, kicked off his boots, dropped his backpack, and flopped on his bed, he wasn’t expecting to hear (and feel) a crunch.

What the hell?

Jack sat up. Gawking, he picked up his pillow. How had someone managed to wrap his entire bed in tinfoil? He’d only been gone for two or three hours. Moreover, who had that kind of access to his room?

It had to be Davey. Sure, maybe his girlfriend Kath might’ve wanted to pull something on him, but there was no way she had the resources to get something like this done in such a short window of time. Plus, she’d been taking that French midterm with him.

Why would Davey put in all this effort, though?

Jack thought back. He’d thought his water balloon prank was pretty fun and harmless, but maybe Davey’d taken it as some sort of declaration of war. Of course, that was fine with Jack—he had plenty more up his sleeve. 

But first, he had to unwrap his entire fucking bed. He’d never understand how Davey managed to have the most inconvenient timing. Most days, Jack would laugh something like this off. This? This was war.

Jack groaned, rubbing his eyes. Perhaps he’d take a quick bathroom pit stop before un-tinfoiling his bed so he could pass right out once he got the last shred of it off. He slid on his unicorn slippers (a gag gift from his brother Charlie) and meandered out the door, down the hallway, and into the bathroom.

He jumped back into the hallway. Standing at the mirror in nothing but a towel was Davey himself, brushing his teeth. Jack didn’t know whether to scream, hide, or flee—but he really did need to pee. Compromising with himself, he attempted to slide behind the sinks and into a stall as quickly as possible.

Apparently life was out to get him today. Just as he slid the lock shut on the stall door—

“How’s it going?” Davey asked nonchalantly through a mouthful of toothpaste. Jack heard him spit into the sink.

“Things are… happening,” he grudgingly replied. “Just took that midterm. Was, uh, really looking forward to a nap.”

Davey hummed.

Jack didn’t know what it was about Davey that was getting him so riled up, but he didn’t want to give in that easily. “You, uh, got any plans for today?”

He heard the crumpling of a paper towel. “Just lab. I should be out of your hair soon.”

At least he’d get his nap soon, Jack supposed, flushing the toilet and zipping his fly. He schooled his face into a neutral expression, opened the stall door, and headed directly for the nearest sink.

Of course that was the sink next to Davey’s. Life really did hate Jack. He washed his hands, resolutely ignoring Davey’s distracting presence.

“I’ll, uh. See you later,” Davey said, giving Jack a little wave. “Just gonna get dressed—I won’t be too long so you can take your nap.”

What the hell. Jack turned off the faucet and wiped his hands on his pants. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, subconsciously attempting to waste time so he didn’t have to face Davey and the tinfoil.

The prank was, upon reflection, admirable. Jack had no idea how Davey could have gotten a hold of that much tinfoil so quickly. It’d only been two days since the water balloon, which Davey hadn’t said anything about. Maybe this was his response.

Jack shrugged at himself in the mirror. The tinfoil bed seemed to be a bit egregious as a response to the shoe, but who was he to turn down a prank war?

[turtletimewriting]

TickleTober Day 11: Death Spot

Summary: There’s a new villain on the streets, and despite his friendly manner, he has found the most effective weapons! 

Note: This is inspired by fluffymary piece about a supervillain Patton! Just in case, this is shockingly a tickle fic! Not written as platonic or romantic so read either way! Ler Patton and Lee Roman, Logan and Virgil. 

_._._

Night fell upon Sanders City. The lights peering from the few windows did little but exaggerate how cold and dark the streets truly were. Streetlights had just flicked off. Families were now all settled into bed, waiting to fall asleep. The roar of an occasional car was the only sound that rumbled through the city. Yet, there was one man walking confidently through the streets. Clearly he had been doing this for years. 

This was Roman Prince, or simply just the Prince. The stark white of his hero costume looked a dark blue in the night, but his reflective red sash made him clear. He’d been protecting this city for going on two years now. His summoning abilities proving effective against any foe that dared set his sights against the city. 

But little did he know, there was another man walking around as well. 

The Prince paused once he circled round back into the town centre. He had only been circling around for fifteen minutes but somehow, someone had vandalised the entire main square. 

Toilet roll was flung pretty effectively to cover every inch on the place, there was chalk messages scrawled across many surfaces and there was one figure standing in the direct middle of the carnage. 

He was dressed... very casually. In a grey cat jumper with the hood drawn over his head, which perfectly showed off the jumper’s floppy grey cat ears. He was wearing a cat mask and seemed to be shivering in the cold a little. His hands sat in his hips. Everything about his pose screamed confidence but everything else screamed tired dad who wanted to go back to bed. 

Roman felt his stomach tighten. He couldn’t deal with fans at the moment. There had been rumours of another villain planning to run amok and he had to keep his eyes peeled. He was about to greet the man when the words died in his throat. What if this was a distraction! He stepped closer but now with his hands cupped in front of him, already summoning a perfect orb of water to protect himself. 

“Hello there! It’s a bit late to be out isn't it?” 

“It’s never to late for villainy, Prince!” The figure shouted back but didn't take any steps closer. Waiting for the prince to come to him.

“Easy there, that could be seen as uh a bit incriminating?” Roman was completely off guard. He didn't want to arrest the guy! He wanted to offer him his jacket and escort him home. But clearly he had done this... vandalism? But... real villains would use spray paint and break things.... cause actual damage. “I’m guessing you did all this then?”

“This city has had it easy for too long! It’s time Sanders got a better... Moral Compass!” The man now jumped forward. Roman could finally get a better look at him and every single first impression he had proved right. He had bouncy beautiful blond curls, partnered with a freckled face and him being a good few inches smaller than him all added up to the idea of this ‘villain’ being adorable. 

“I dunno… I feel like even on a good day that Fear Eater guy can give me the run around. I think Sanders has enough villains for the mean time.”

“Oh, you poor fool, Prince! You haven’t even asked what my grand plan is,” Moral Compass chuckled before slowly pulling out a weapon. It clearly wasn’t a normal gun. It glowed that same light blue as the chalk and he could hear it whirring away from where he was standing. “Meet my friend here, the death spot ray!” 

Roman frowned, he really didn’t want to fight this guy. He looked so unprepared for this. All Roman would have to do is throw that orb of water he still held and the man would be pushed back and soaked and even colder. Frozen cold water plus the October night would be quick to end to the fight. 

But even the title of death spot ray clearly screamed danger... he couldn’t afford to risk anything.

“I don’t want to fight! What are your demands?” Roman concentrated and prayed that Moral Compass wouldn’t see his new summon. It was more rushed than he’d like to admit but the last thing he’d want is his first impression to genuinely put people in danger. His summoned owl quickly appeared from his hands and he threw it behind him. Smiling when he finally heard it flap away into the night, he didn’t dare lift his eyes away from Moral Compass. 

“Demands? Oh um... Wait!” Moral Compass suddenly straightened before fumbling through the hoodie’s pockets, withdrawing a crumpled cluster of paper. “Oh yeah, Sanders City surrenders to me!” Roman waited a few moments to see if this was a list but no other response came. 

“Well. I can’t allow that Moral.”

“Then I demand you laugh!” 

Moral Compass thrusted the weapon upwards as he pulled the trigger. A sound went off and a cylinder of cyan blue quickly emptied but nothing was released. Roman had summoned a shield but frowned when nothing hit it. He waited a few more moments before peeking his head out the shield. 

Moral Compass stood there proudly with a wide smile. 

“Uh... hate to spoil the fun, but did it hit me?” Roman asked as he brushed down his costume. He wasn’t too panicked, he could hear the police sirens from the other side of the town. Good timing! 

“Oh you’ll see! You’ll become a laughing stock of the city Prince!” 

Well that wasn’t helpful but Roman brushed down his costume again, feeling a strange sensation run through him. Now, he wasn’t that much of an idiot, he knew what he was feeling was surely a result of the weapon. But for such a scarily named weapon, he expected more. He just kinda felt itchy. But he was also aware that the sensation was increasing slowly. 

From a faint sensation to a definite presence poking around his stomach. 

He huffed a sigh of relief once Logan finally got his act together and ran over. The summoned owl following after him. It wasn’t often that Roman wanted to drag police officers into his messes but he also knew better than to deal out his own punishments. And maybe also he liked the idea of someone having his back in case things went south.

“Prince! Any injuries?” Logan called before sliding to sit under Roman’s shield where he was also kneeling until he could gain a sense of what’s happening. 

“Uh, don’t thihink so...” He trailed off when he felt a stab of ticklishness shoot through him. Oh no... Death spot ray... Uh oh. “Um okay I know what he dhihihi heh did!”

“Prince?” Logan asked, now lifting his arms so he could at least double check the Prince’s abdomen since that’s what he was clutching. 

“No!” Roman cried out before feeling the laughter being punched from him. He was never good at hiding his laugh when people got his death spot. “HahahaHAAHAAHA!” 

Moral Compass smiled upon hearing that laughter. The laughter born from chaos and helplessness. He placed the weapon back in its holster and casually skipped over to the shield. 

“Okay? Right. Well, we need to get you out of here. There’s been reports of-” Logan started, pulling the Prince’s flailing arms around his neck but now this new bad guy was standing behind them. An excited, almost evil, grin started back at him. 

“Oh hello there officer! I just want to make a point here. Leave him be!” 

“Not a chance,” Logan snarled back and reached to grab his radio. Admittedly a tickle gun wasn’t dangerous but it was more if he had a tickle gun then what else could he have. But he didn't think about what that would look like from the villain’s perspective. 

He was shot with the bizarre weapon before he could even blink. 

Logan trusted his instinct and simply grabbed a hysterical Prince and ran for the car. But what started as confident running soon turned into dragging his feet like he had an itch. Before long, Logan was forced to a stop just right beside the police vehicle. “Heh! Uh, c’mon hah um Princeheheee!” 

“LOHOHAHAHAHAAA! MAHAKE IT STOHOHIAHAHA STOP!” Roman squealed, unable to focus on literally anything but the tickles digging into his ticklish tummy. Now that Logan was now hunching over, he slipped from his grip and fell on to the floor. Kicking his feet wildly like that would stop the frantic scribbling on his stomach. His face was a tomato at this point. 

“I cahahaaaaaaaa aAHAHAHAAHAAAHAHA! I CAN’T! HAHAHAA!” Logan finally gave in, there felt like they’re were fluffy brushes, light but firm tickles, swamping his feet. He leaned against the police car, hoping that he would at least stay on his feet. 

They were both laughing too hard to see the silhouette standing on a building overlooking the wrecked town square. A very familiar and dangerous silhouette...

“Now what’s going on h-”

“AH!” Moral Compass shrieked before firing blindly at the voice. 

Fear Eater stood there with an incredulous look on his face. “What was that for?”

“Oh! Fear Eater! Sorry! I uh just panicked?” Moral Compass now lowered the weapon. Finally sounding like how he looked. 

“You dare challenge me? You think you’re cut out for all this villainy stuff huh?” Fear Eater was clearly fuming but his hands were shaking and he was nervously looking away, “You wanna have an honest go at making a meaningful change to this city then you’re going to have to actually just try and steel your nerves. What a... what ar- What do you thihink you’re heh doing waving thahat thiihihihih hehahahahaahaaa!” 

Now, if Prince was under the influence of the all powerful death spot ray himself then this day would be the best day of his entire existence!

The all powerful Fear Eater, with his stupid edgy name and emo style, was curled up on the floor giggling away like a maniac! 

Now, if Fear Eater wasn’t currently laughing his ass off, he would have treasured this day for the rest of his life. 

The all powerful Prince, with his fake title and pompous style, was collapsed on the floor snorting away. 

But at the end of the day, all of them were being tickle tortured on their absolute death spots and it was only Moral Compass left standing. It was with way more people than he first intended, and his vandalism had kinda been forgotten, but he had achieved what he wanted. 

The heroes and villains of Sanders City now looked as ridiculous as they all acted.  

[herradhighpriestess]

Artificially Sweetened Sodomy

Chapter Eight: What If?

Tig watched her eyes sweep around the room as she clenched and unclenched her hands into fists, nothing available to even throw except single-ply toilet paper and flimsy seat covers.

“I won’t watch,” he said and turned around to the face the door, leaving Kari to stare at his back.

Tig could feel her frown beating against him and held his hands out theatrically, “I promise,” he drew out.

Kari’s impending loss of bladder control threatened to win in a wet manner and Tig held his breath and waited as she emptied her bladder, her hot piss splashing the smooth surface of the blue toilet water.

They both breathed in slowly through their noses and out their mouths as she tore off a handful of the cheap toilet paper and wiped herself clean.

Tig spoke as he heard her pull her snug pants up and turned around as he spoke, catching her tie the drawstring into a limp bow.

“We got a ways to go, are you feeling up to that?”

Kari stared down at loopy bow as she side-stepped to the metal sink and pink pump hand soap.

“That’s fine,” she said and washed her hands with the icy water.

Kari rinsed her hands clean before cupping the water and splashing it over her face before dabbing her skin dry with the rough, brown paper towels.

She balled up the paper in her hands when she turned and found his eyes searching hers.

“What?” Kari asked, her senses at sudden Def Con One at the unreadable expression in his neutral eyes, reflexively considering throwing the crushed wad of 100% recycled paper towels at him like a dirty snowball.

Tig blinked slowly as he let his hands splay out casually at his sides, his fingertips twitching to find out what her face looked like when she came. He blew out a sharp breath as he felt blood begin to trickle into his thick cock tucked behind his zipper.

“Are you okay?” Kari asked, her wariness pushed aside when she misread his barely suppressed lust as feelings of sudden illness.

Kari took an automatic step forward before the cloud obscuring his surging, heated raw need fell away from Tig’s sparkling eyes and she found herself feeling like a wounded gazelle with the hungry, singular attention of a blood-thirsty carnivorous predator.

“No, I’m not okay,” Tig admitted with a rasp and thoroughly shook Kari’s jumbled thoughts like a holiday snow globe.

“What is it?” she asked with a stilted tone, caught between moving forward or backwards against the sink.

“I’m not sure I’m up for all the driving,” Tig began before Kari quickly interrupted.

“I can drive, just give me directions.”

“It’s not the length of the drive,” he interrupted back as he started to close the already small distance between them. “We need to deal with something before we get out of here.”

His tone and movement forced her backwards, but any progress was stopped by the edge of the sink biting into her lower back as he continued to advance.

“We? Deal with what?” Kari asked as he put one hand on the sink on either side of her hips, keeping her locked within his arms, a breath away from touching her.

“You’re distracting me, I can’t focus,” Tig said as he leaned closer, his exhale hot against her face.

Kari scoffed and frowned, her irritation growing and overshadowing her discomfort for a moment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped and tried to physically slide out of the circle of his arms.

Tig growled and caught her up in his embrace, pulling her nearly off his feet as he pressed his lips to her ear. “I can’t think of anything else but fucking you,” he whispered urgently and roughly pushed her back against the sink, simultaneously lifting her until he could insinuate himself between her thighs.

“Well, that’s direct,” Kari managed as she shifted as much as his hold would allow, still processing his admission.

“Is it the worst idea?” Tig asked in a strangled tone as he smoothed a hand through her hair and pressed his lips against the racing pulse in the side of her neck.

He didn’t catch everything Kari whispered, only the word “obligation,” came through clear.

Tig teased his long fingers through her hair and pulled her head back until her neck grew taut, whispering as his lips hovered over hers. “What did you say?”

Kari held his gaze as long as she could until she sagged under his hold and how wrapped up he had her in his arms, letting her eyes fall closed as she spoke.

“I was thinking of the oath I took, taking the obligation freely,” she breathed, opening her eyes as she added. “Defending foreign and domestic enemies.”

“I’m not your enemy,” Tig murmured and kept his hold in her warm silken strands unbreakable as he slid his free hand to smooth under the curve of her bottom and tug her closer.

Kari inhaled sharply as he slid his hand to the tied, floppy bow of her linen pants, lightly tugging.

“I’m not your enemy,” Tig repeated before he carefully let his lips touch hers, forcing himself to take his time.

“Take this obligation freely,” Kari’s mind repeated on a loop as she tentatively raised her hands to rest on his waist, partially for the self-serving need for balance.

“Freely, freely,” she nearly said aloud as she slid one hand to close around his wrist as he pulled at her drawstring bow with greater urgency.

“I couldn’t possibly have sex in this filthy bathroom,” Kari chuckled nervously as she pushed at his hand. within a breath from touching the front of his body.

“How about the van?” Tig countered quickly and easily shook her hand free.

“No, I can’t,” she murmured shaking her head.

“Can’t or won’t?” he asked as he leaned back to search her eyes, scrutinizing every minute muscle movement in her expression.

Kari opened her mouth to speak but didn’t know how to explain the four guys she had wrapped her life around and got fucked over worse each time.

The high school boyfriend who promised the moon.

The college boyfriend who promised the solar system.

The rebound boyfriend turned fast fiancé and most recently, the crushing, bitterly ended one-night stand with another agent that led to her transfer to the other coastline.

“This is all way too fast and overwhelming,” Kari managed and covered her mouth as she laughed and added. “I had a bad experience with rushing stuff and found out the hard way that I’m not into casual sex.”

Tig pulled her fingertips away from her mouth and adjusted his grip until he could slide the same hand to his zipper and fumble the metal tab down.

Kari renewed her struggling and tried to kick free when he had one hand occupied with his zipper.

“Wait,” he demanded and begged on a needy growl as he yanked his hardening cock free and stroked it to painfully hard life.

“What’s wrong with casual?” he asked as he increased the squeezing rhythm around the thick shaft of his rigidity, his breathing picking up the pace.

“Sex should mean something,” she answered quickly and lowly as he paused jerking at his dick long enough to wrench the wad of paper towels from her clenched fist.

“How could I make it mean something with me?” Tig panted as an electrical coil tightened through his throbbing length and made his balls pull up close to his body, readying to come.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Kari gasped as she felt him rub the smooth head of his cock against the inside of her thigh, fighting every fiber in his being that wanted to tear the crotch of her pants open and bury himself to the hilt in her wet center.

“I’m not going to take anything you don’t want to give,” Tig said on a strangled groan as he felt his orgasm an imminent event.

Kari watched his pupils dilate and his sparkling cerulean blue orbs practically dilated as he came hard against the crumpled ball of paper towels, the recycled fibers soaking up his sticky seed.

As he tried to get his breathing rate under control, the blissful afterglow of his stimulated nervous system let him see what she needed, what she was afraid to ask for.

Tig buried his face in the warm curve of her neck, feeling her pulse galloping under his lips, his exhale warm as he spoke against her flushed skin.

“What did you say?” Kari asked, unsure if she had clearly interpreted his muffled words.

“What if we were married?” Tig asked raggedly, urgently crushing his mouth to hers and thrusting his tongue against her lips, fucking her mouth like he wanted to fill her cunt.

[guksauce]

~TickledPink!~

Part Five

Pairing: Jjk x Reader Pregnant AU

Word Count: 4,091K

Rated: M

Book Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mild Smut, Adult Language, Fluff City.

Author: @guksauce

Notes: Thank you to those who give this story and myself love 💖 Thank you go the likes and shares, that helps spread this story and that’s something is writers are so grateful for. I’m so glad you’re all enjoying this.

Tag List: @jamkookies @jk97luv @1-in-abillion

Tick. Tock.

The hands on the clock hanging high above the end of isle 9 tick loudly in time with the pounding of your heart threatening to escape your chest.

Tick. Tock.

You’re stuck. Frozen to the linoleum floor beneath you by the soles of your shoes with a giant, foreboding wall of pregnancy tests in all different brands towering above you. Maybe you should just get one of every kind. Maybe you should ask for help. Your eyes dart from one end of the isle to the other finding only stock boys and creepy men in the pharmacy. Looking back to the wall, a blue box stands out to you. Neon yellow letters advertise that 3 tests come in one pack and you quickly yank it off the peg its slid onto. Your eyes slide down further to the bottom of the wall and a bright pink box display’s the words “FASTER RESULTS” written in all caps and you grab that one too. It holds 2 more test and you wonder vaguely if five tests is too many. Drawing small, firm circles into your temple, you think heavily about how you shouldn’t even have to take a test at all.

Tick. Tock.

You shouldn’t even have to be standing in this isle worrying about what kind to get.

Tick. Tock.

You shouldn’t have to be staying with the boys and-

A ringing in your pocket pulls you from your mind babbles, the screen showing a text from Namjoon.

Joon♥: Y/n. Are you ok? You left without saying anything. And…in a hurry, might I add.

For the first time today, a smile graces your lips and you make a mental note to give him a giant hug when you get home. Quickly you type your reply.

Y/N: I’m fine! Just needed some things from the store. Sorry. Do you need anything from here? I could get some things for dinner if you need me to.

Deciding that five tests is enough, you scramble to get to the check-out line and throw the tests down onto the moving black belt as a ding from your phone signals Namjoon reply.

Joon♥: No, I think we’re ok. Jin is making Yukaejang tonight. Thanks though.

The bags under the cashier’s eyes suggest that she’s probably been here for more hours than she’d like to be as she runs the first box through the red laser in front of her. You can tell by the empathetic look in her eyes that she’s unsure of how you’re feeling about the possibility of being pregnant, but you’re eternally grateful when she doesn’t say anything and just slides both boxes quickly into a small paper bag she had hidden under the counter. You must be frowning because as much as you wish she wouldn’t say anything at all, when she hands you the bag, her smile grows fonder and the pitch of her voice sinks to a low motherly tone you didn’t know you needed to hear.

“I hope you get the results you’re looking for.” She says and turns away from you to the customer behind you. Even though she isn’t looking at you anymore, to the best of your ability you return her smile and rush out of the store to your car. The weight of the tests in the paper bag feels lighter than you imagined, as well as the world of nervousness you carry on your shoulders.

When you arrive at the apartment, you ignore the concerned calls the guys throw at you and rush straight to the bathroom in the hallway. You can feel the way each of the nerves in your body quivers and rips apart into more, smaller, nerves that quiver two times as violently as you open each package of Tests, laying them all out on the counter. They’re all equally as intimidating as the next, but you prepare them all the same. Your hands sweat and shake after you’ve taken them all and the cold edge of the tub you sit upon only offers you a tiny amount of relief as you wait. While you think of all the ways this could literally go ANY slower, as though you were watching a pot of water waiting for it to boil, your mind wonders off in directions you wish it wouldn’t. What if Joon kicks you out? If Yoongi finds out will he fight with the boys again? Beg them to make you leave? You should anyway…shouldn’t you? And what if this is too much for the boys? This is totally unfair of you right? They…don’t deserve this.

Too many minutes pass before Jungkook starts to worry you’ve fallen in the toilet to an entirely different universe. He intends to check your room to see if maybe you’ve snuck out without them knowing. But as he passes door after door, a terrifying, blood curdling scream curls around the door frame of the bathroom, threatening to warp everything in its path as it floods the hall. Barging in feels like the sane thing to do as the hairs on his arms stand on end from the hilt of his elbow to the very tips of his fingers, but he stays glued to the door as he knocks heavily.

“Y/n?! Are you alright?” Jungkook pushes his ear against the door and listens when you don’t answer but he understands why when he hears the unnerving sound of gagging and vomit splashing the back of the porcelain toilet bowl. “I…Can I get you anything? A glass of ice water? Y/n…?” Again, he hears nothing and his worry spikes as he tries the door handle. Normally he wouldn’t invade on your privacy, but he finds the door unlocked and you on the other side with your head in your hands and your lips parted with exhaustion as your body trembles.

“Y/n…” He breathes out and immediately grabs a washcloth out of the vanity drawer, soaking it in warm water. Kneeling next to you, he tucks strands of your hair behind your ear. Tears streak your cheeks, dragging with them streams of black mascara. “Hey. Look at me.” He instructs gently. When you lift your head to look at him, his brows scrunch together sympathetically, and a small smile grows on his lips. He takes his time looking over your face and glides his fingers into your hair, holding you in place to wipe away your tears. The action is a rather intimate one you think, but you watch his concentrated eyes as he worries at your obvious pain.

“Why are you crying, beautiful? What happened?” He asks, blushing only slightly at the endearment he’d let slip, and uses the cloth to wipe your pretty pink lips free of any left-over residue. He’s careful and slow, never missing a single detail. The truth of the situation floats around in your mind. The way Jungkook’s eyes burn into your soul only upsets you further, making telling him the results that much more devastating.

Today marks the 6th day that you’d woken with the violent need to empty your stomach of all its contents. At first you thought nothing of it. Maybe it was something Jin made that you simply didn’t agree with. The second night could have been the 2 and a half bowls of ice cream you and Jimin had consumed together in front of the TV on movie night. The third could have been how you’d brushed your teeth and then downed a glass of orange juice immediately after, gagging when the two substances mixed on your tongue. The fourth day you’d tried to convince yourself that maybe you were sick but with only 2 ugly acts of puking first thing in the morning every morning, you knew this was something different. You’d made all the excuses you could for yourself before you started to panic on the fifth day. Thinking back to your last period and reminding yourself of the current date, your mind had shut down and you’d retreated to bed early during the middle of the show you had been watching with the boys. So far, you were 2 weeks late and counting. Five pregnancy tests and another round of puking that only validated the results later, proved that your worst fear had come true.

And it’s in this moment, looking into Jungkook’s eyes, that you crumble completely. “I…I’m pregnant.” Initially it comes out in a choked sob. But the flickering Diner sign reflects in the toilet water, a horror mirage that makes what comes out next shrill. “That bastard impregnated me!” You screech out, the fear in your voice making Jungkook flinch. He doesn’t know what to say, afraid to tip you over an edge that holds no ground beneath it as a helplessness overrides his every thought and stops his hands from working on drying your tears.

In a rush of speed and worry, one by one the rest of the men come around the corner of the hallway and pile into the bathroom just as Jungkook snaps from his shock and wraps his arms around you, scooping you onto his lap. The cold porcelain of the tub shoots bolts of icy sensations along his back, but your body keeps him warm as he gently shushes your cries. They’re quiet and muffled in the fabric of his shirt but they still kill him a little on the inside. Namjoon, confused by your disheveled state, kneels at his feet and rests his hand on the back of your head.

“What the hell happened, Kook?” He asks, watching the way you bunch up Kooks shirt in your palm.

“Namjoon…” Jimin breathes out as Namjoon raises his head to look at him. The language Jimins body speaks is one of staccato words and stiff motions as one of your five pregnancy tests weighs heavily in his hand. He double, no, triple thinks about giving it to Joon before regrettably handing it over. Joon falls next to Jungkook against the tub and covers his mouth as he examines the test. Two red lines, side by side, stare back him.

Yoongi stands idly by, an arm wrapped around his midsection while the other presses stiffly against his side, heart clenching and fingers playing nervously with the opening of his jeans pocket. Through the small window above the toilet, a flash of lightning strikes too close for comfort and everyone in the bathroom jumps.

“I should have killed that guy. Who the hell does he think he is anyway!? Putting his hands on you! On ANY woman! How dare he put you in this situation! DAMN IT I SHOULD HAVE KILLED HIM!” Namjoon yells. The others stay silent and you peek at the 7 men standing before you. Their faces are twisted with sadness and a new kind of guilt settles in the pit of your stomach for making such beautiful features into blue, blurred paintings. They know now, why you’re here.

“Namjoon…” Jin warns with a loving hand on his brothers’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry…I’m just so…” Namjoon tries to explain but goes radio silent, only the subtle sound of unsteady breathing amongst the boys left over. His eyes rim a dark maroon and the swell of a single tear whelms them, but they never fall.

Outside, a monstrous growl of thunder rolls slowly over Seoul. Heavy drops of rain pelt the earth, leaving the air stagnant with the sweet scent of soil. It contrasts the delicious scent of Yukaejang boiling on the stove that no one seems to want to eat now. Wind howls and rattles the glass of the window, the room going dark as another crack of thunder pounds overhead.

“I’ll get some candles lit.” Jimin announces and quickly leaves the room.

“Kook bring her to the living room. I’ll light the fireplace. Hoseok, gather up some blankets. And Yoongi, pillows. We’ll all sleep together tonight.” Jin snaps into action and orders all his younger brothers to their tasks, the timbre of his voice light and friendly. “Taehyung, can you clean up for Y/n? Maybe get her some fresh pajamas?”

Tae doesn’t move. His eyes are glued to the tests lined in a row on the counter, all of them with double red lines showing on their little screens. All of them giving a new meaning to why you’re here. To why Namjoon brought you here. To why he wanted-no, NEEDED to take care of you.

“Taehyung-ah.” Jin said softer and watched the young one’s eyes move to where Jungkook still cradled you in his arms before turning on his heals, following his eldest brother away from the thickness of the bathroom.

Namjoon leaves too. He says nothing and you don’t expect him too. The soft kiss he leaves on top of your head says enough before he exits.

“Jungkook…I’m scared.” You whisper low enough that you don’t think he heard you over the sound of the downpour outside. But he hugs you closer to him and talks into your hair. Yet again he doesn’t know what to say, what he should say. The first thing that comes to mind seems like the most obvious and the least sensitive, but it feels right.

“Don’t be.” Right. As if that were even an option. Mentally smacking himself for saying that, he doesn’t expect you to curl into him anymore than you already have and squeeze him.

“Okay.” Is all you say, defeated and tired as he stands and carries you with him to his room. You honestly don’t have the strength to disagree but the choice you make to believe him settles something in your heart. If he says don’t be scared, then you won’t be. Taehyung meets you both in the hall, your pajamas in hand as he follows you into Jungkook’s room to leave them for you before exiting. It’s very dark, illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning. Warmth leaves your body as you’re torn from his body, your hands reaching out and catching his arm and the hem of his shirt before he can get too far away.

“Hey.” He says softly, close enough that you can feel his warm breath dance over the apples of your cheeks. “I’ll be right back. Just getting you some baby wipes for your face, ok? I’ll be back, I promise.” A flash of lighting illuminates his face for a split second and your breath catches at how close he is, and how painfully beautiful he looks. His hair, a heap of black waves, frames his face perfectly. Its’ darkness lightens his chocolate irises and porcelain skin, and only deepens the rosy pink of his lips. They’re parted, his lips, slightly and dripping with his promise as he pulls away from you. You listen to the pitter patter of his feet mix with the raindrops hitting the window and quickly change when you hear him rummaging around in his cabinets.

The pajamas delivered to you were a gift from Jimin and his mountain of Chanel products. A baby pink silk set with the Chanel logo embroidered in black clung to your frame perfectly. The bottoms alone made you want to just sink under Jungkook’s blankets and fall asleep right on the spot. The top has long sleeves that you’re sure are going to be too long for you. Yes, Jimin seems to be just a tad more petit that the rest of the guys but his physique still holds its own strength, a strength you don’t fit into. Still, you pull your top off just as Jungkook steps out from his bathroom. Flashes of light freeze images of your bare back to him. The curve of your side and swell of your hip making him take a slow step forward before the room goes dark again. More flashes reveal to him your arms raised high above your head, your hair waving and grazing your skin as silk slinks down your body. But one last flash shows him the yellowing bruises at your hips and the deep cuts the man’s nails scarred your body with at the small of your back. Clearing his throat so as not to startle you, he walks in your direction, the bag of baby wipes crinkling in his hands the closer he gets.

“Are you ready?” He asks as you turn to him, eyes finally adjusting to the dark as you reach out for him again. He takes your hand in his and glides it up your arm as you lean into him.

“Yeah I think so.” A part of you is afraid to meet the others in the living room. You can imagine it now, the looks on their faces. Disgust. Did you disgust them?

“Do I…disgust you? Or…or do you think the others are disgusted by me now that they know what happened?” You know it’s ridiculous to ask this question, but it gurgles just beneath the surface of your already overflowing mind.

His features become disgruntled in an array of different emotions. “Y/n. If there is anyone that we are disgusted with, it’s the sorry excuse for a man that did this to you.” A quiver breaks through his voice that almost makes you wish you hadn’t brought it up. Even in the darkness of the room, when he cups your cheeks in his gentle hands and strokes your tear stained skin with his thumbs, you’re glad that all your deepest thoughts and emotions come out in front of him. “Trust me when I tell you that there’s nothing in this entire world that could ever make the guys or myself disgusted by you. Okay?” He asks and again you choose to lean on any reason to believe him that he gives you. “Trust me.” Jungkook says softer this time. With unsteady hands you reach up and holds his wrists like they’re the only things keeping you from drowning.

“I trust you.” You whisper and push your cheek deeper into the curve of Jungkook’s palm, who pulls you into his chest and curls his fingers in your hair. Laced with hints of cocoanut and peppermint, the scent of his cologne reminds you of the beach. The warmth of his chest against your cheek makes you think of the sun and the feeling of being baked by its rays. And the sound of his steady breathing feels like your standing in the sand listening to the pulse of the waves as they crash and pull on the shore. For a moment you forget its raining. You forget about the lightning that strikes the ground and the ominous roll of thunder. For a moment…you’re at your happy place.

“Come on. The boys are probably worried.” Protective arms detach from around you, but he doesn’t step away. Instead, with his free hand, he laces your fingers together and guides you to the living room. Everyone is there, and regardless of the mood they had all entered through the bathroom, the new mood they brought to the living room was much lighter. Each of them smiled up at you as you joined then, Jungkook plopping the two of you down on the couch next to Taehyung who had already made you a spot there.

“I hope you like comedy because there’s this hilarious Adam Sandler movie I’ve been waiting to watch.” Hobi announces in a voice that brightens the room, and presses play for the flat screen hanging on the wall. You don’t have time to pay much attention to the movie because Jungkook gets to work opening the package of baby wipes. Long, nimble fingers pull out one of the damp white cloths and presses it to your skin. In carefully calculated swipes, Jungkook clears your face of all the residue left over from your make up. You watch his eyes. They’re stunning, you think to yourself. His extra dark chocolate orbs turn into a nutty honey color under the flickering light of the candles lit and scattered around the living room. And the deeper you look, the more you see. A ring of coal black encircles them, matching the void in the center. Cracks that resemble that of the bark of trees trap flecks of gold within them. Though you know how young he is, its as if you can see every age ring within him, see the oldest of oaks, a golden wood.

With each swipe, he becomes less concentrated, less accurate in his movements and finds himself going over parts of your face he knows he’s already cleaned but he chooses them as his favorite’s as he goes over them one last time. The line of your jaw just under your ear, the very top of your cheekbone just under your eye, and the thin path of your nose that buttons right at the end. It’s only when he catches your eyes on him that he remembers what he’s doing.

“Um. I think we’re done.” He says quietly, dropping his head down to attempt to hide the way he sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth, but you don’t miss it. And you definitely don’t miss the adorably tiny mole just under his bottom lip. How enchanting, you think. “I’m going to put this away and grab an extra pillow. Do you need anything?” He asks, daring to peek at you.

“Maybe an extra blanket?” Behind you, you observe a sleeping Tae curled up into the corner of the couch with his arms covering his face. A light snore seeps through his plush lips and the blanket he’d gathered for you on the couch was cocooned around him. “Mine is being used.” You say through a small giggle as you turn back to Jungkook who smiles down at his sleeping friend and nods.

“Ill be right back.” He races off down the hall, leaving you with the rest of the guys. Hobi and Jimin are snuggled up together under the same blanket on the floor, clinging to each other as they giggle and chuckle at the scenes playing before them. Namjoon reads with his back pressed into Jin who snores louder than Tae, in a lounge chair. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, reading glasses resting on the edge of his nose as he turns page after page. Its ridiculously adorable how both unbothered and comforted by his older brother he is. Jin stirs in his sleep and Joon looks up just long enough to make sure he’s ok and you smile. Suga sits with his back against the leg of the coffee table and his arms folded over his chest. His eyes are closed but you can tell he isn’t asleep by the way his foot ticks to a beat you can’t hear. From what you can see he doesn’t seem to have any headphones in but he’s listening to a song only he can hear. You wish you could hear it too.

Jungkook returns as quickly as he can, a pillow and the comforter from his bed spilling out of his arms as he approaches you. Into the opposite corner from Tae, kook throws one of the pillows behind his head and places the other into his side for you. If he were anyone else besides Joon, you probably would have hesitated. However, as you lay your head upon the pillow and tuck your legs behind Tae’s, you can’t imagine being anywhere else. You take one last look around the room and find a comfort in it you can only recall experiencing one other time in your life; your friendship with Joon.

Sparring a glance at your childhood friend, your savior in many ways, an old smile you’ve smiled more times than you can count perks up the corners of your lips. He’s sound asleep, the book in his hands closed on his lap as his glasses tip closer and closer to the end of his nose while he breathes deeply, his head tilted to the side in an endearing way. Before long, Jungkook goes limp beneath you as well. Both your bodies and minds calm from the stress and excitement of the day as the thunder outside persists, all of it a natural lullaby that’s sung to you one note at a time. You are only granted a moment long enough to wonder if this is the song Yoongi is listening to, but as soon as you focus on all the components to the song, the lyrics, the melody, the tempo, you’re drifting far, far, off into dreamland.

Part Four

Master List

Part Six

[the-headbop-wraith]

2_37 Restoration

The vines catch at his ankles as he charges full tilt, sharp branches slap at his brow.  He can’t fend them all from his skin, yet there are no trees surrounding him, just branches. Hundreds of branches, low hanging tree limbs, gnarled and sharp twigs starved of leaves – all clutter his vision. Candle light flashed faster and faster along high wall paper, shades of magenta and fuchsia crashing against his eyes. Red, blue, red, blue – his bare feet slap at the carpeted floor, the panicked rhythm hastens the wild pitch of his heart until he feels like his chest is ready to explode.  Somewhere out there a mild thumping dips into a steady pace, while his legs whirl under him.  Soon, he’s aware that thumping sound is getting closer and closer, no matter how fast his legs beat at the floor under him.

__

Arthur snapped his eyes open and stares at the other side of the wall, through the opaque plastic window of the small stand in shower.  He tries to make sense of the blurry wall, struggles with the truth of the wall rather his hazy memory from an elsewhere.  The door was open and the cold air kneaded into his skin, helped clear his mind. It was stale air, not icy, not depressing and icy air.  The walls closed around him were as bleached and sterile as the surface of the moon. He shuddered and tightened his arm around his legs and tried to bar in the little bit of warmth bubbled against his stiff sides.

The bathroom that connected to the guest bedroom was functional and comfortable.  It had two doors, one that accessed the guest room and the other door across from it which opened into the front hall of the home.  It had the bare essentials, a toilet and sink on one side of the room, and a small shower in the fourth corner.  Arthur currently sat in the dry pan of the shower, staring at the bulbous shapes morphing through the distorted plastic.  He hated doing anything in a haunted home, especially sleeping.  His eyes shut again, it felt so good sometimes to just close your eyes and listen to the empty air around your head.

His eyes popped open to the gentle rapping on the door. A groggy voice blundered through the wood panel that separated him from the guest room.  “Art?”  It was Vivi, voice muffled by drowsiness and door.  “You in there?”

“Mm.  Yeah,” Arthur called back.  “I’ll be out in a sec.”  He wobbled something bad as he pushed himself up by one arm, and staggered out of the small shower closet stiffly.  He stepped over to the single standing sink and turned on the water.  He put away the portable medical kit, and managed to dig out a clean shirt without much problem getting it by the abundance of used ointment packets and bandage wrappers.  He slipped the clean shirt on carefully, shut off the water, and collected up the remainder of his gear before unlocking the door.  “Sorry ‘bout that,” he choked, as he pushed the door open a crack.

“It’s fine,” Vivi yawned.  She stretched her arms behind her head and scratched at her frazzled head, glasses gone and still dressed for yesterday.  “I was just getting worried, and I needed to get in an hour ago.”

As Arthur stepped out of the way, he finally noted the windows in the furthest corner of the room.  Bright sunlight poured through, golden and fluffy through the mild tint of fog and clouds.  It had to be early, shy of noon, the fog hadn’t burned off yet.  The last time he looked outside, it was very dark.

The door shut, and Arthur was left to gather his bearings.  He coughed a bit on the warm air, it was probably time for another pill.  Later then, he didn’t want to fool with his bag and risk drawing attention to himself.  

Since Arthur’s disappearance, Mystery had relocated himself from what was once warm blankets on the couch, to the warm bed and was on his back snoring with his paws bent over his chest.  Arthur stared at the happily snoozing dog bundled in his warm nest.  Arthur sighed.  “I could really go for coffee.”  Arthur set his bag down and flopped sideways onto the couch.  He curled up on his good side and slipped the blanket over his lower half. “Lewis isn’t back yet,” he noted.  At least, as far as he could tell.

It wouldn’t take Vivi long to get spruced up and ready to tackle the days task.  A blessing and a… downer.  Five more minutes.  Two more seconds.  If he just rest his eyes, he’d be good.

Mystery was up.  He didn’t see when the dog had moved to his feet, but he was standing up on the bed and staring at the side of the room, fully focused on the door.  Arthur worked to get himself pushed up and over to see where Mystery’s attention was.  Arthur wasn’t alert enough to anticipate Lewis’ sudden appearance.

There was no Lewis.  However, Mystery hopped off the bed and padded over to the door, head down and ears high.  “Wassup?” Arthur mumbled.  Mystery arfed, as he neared the door.  “Whatever you say, buddy.”  Arthur spun over onto his back—

The door flew open and a pair of white bulbous bodies withered in, moaning and bellowing their arms.  They screamed, “Leave our house!” and “Be gone trespassers!” as they raced at Arthur.  Mystery kicked back on his rears legs, fell over, his claws scrabbled at the carpet until he found traction and bolted for the space under the bed.  “You will REGRET!”

“WOOOOO!”

“Holy—”  Arthur threw himself backwards, crawled over the side of the couch and away from the invading sheets.  As he tried to stand upright, his feet got tangled up in the blanket and his body went straight to the floor.  “Ow….”

“Ooh,” one of the ghosts groaned, wincing.  It pried off the white sheet revealing Tyler’s matted hair.  “Hey, you okay?”

“We’re ghosts!”  The other ghost declared, waving its arms.  “OOoooohhhhh!”  She stopped when Tyler slapped her in the stomach.  “Ow!  I’m telling mom.”

Arthur rolled over and sat up.  “Geez, what is wrong with you two?” he spat.  Whatever fatigue had flattened his brain on the hot pavement, it was gone, obliterated.  “You’d give someone a heart attack.”

“Were we scary?” Savannah asked.  Her hair stood up in all directions when she slid the sheet off.  “Your eyes went all white, it was crazy!”

At least he was clothed.  Arthur raised an arm to his side, where he had fallen.  He must’ve hit his bad nerve, that whole side of his ribs was buzzing.  “I could call you a few things,” he muttered under his breath.  All three turned their heads up when the bathroom door WHAMMED against the wall.

Vivi emerged from the mist in the door, hair soaked and slicked to her skull, damp cloths clinging to her body.  Whatever the teens said about scary, it paled in comparison to the look in Vivi’s eyes.  Arthur felt himself shrinking into himself, and he was far from the target of her fury this time.

“What in FLYING FUCKS are you two doing in OUR ROOM!” The house shook on its foundation around her voice.  Elephants stampeded, waves crashed, a certain dog in a room enjoyed hamburgers for the rest of its life.  “Do YOU have ANY MANNERS?  DON’T ANSWER THAT!”  Savanah shut her mouth.

“This is our house!” Tyler rebuts.  He rolled the sheet up against his chest, clearly unsettled but much too proud (or stupid) to admit anything redeeming.  “And you should be paying us rent or something while you’re here.”  Tyler glanced around, and turns his attention back to his sister but she clearly didn’t want to get involved in this.

Vivi was marching forward, head down, eyes flashing. Arthur threw himself into her path. “No, Vi, Vi!” he stammered.  “I wasn’t hurt!  They’re just kids!”  He tries to grab her by the wrist or snag her shoulder, but this is difficult to do when you have one less arm, and he’s backing up struggling to snap her attention onto him.  “VIV-VI!”

“The doors gone.”  Savanah had looked back and inspiration struck.  The door that was once open, was now not there at all. “Um….”

Vivi’s hostile advance had ceased, and Arthur hung on her shaking.  It was getting harder to see.  Now the windows had ceased to be, there were no longer exits present at all in the room. The apprehension thickened, the once soft pastel colors of the surrounding walls crack and darken, the harsh introverted coloration spreads down and down, burning away pale hues. Was it a trick of perception, the loss of light, or the tones of red and purple that were quickly gaining area, but the whole room seemed to be getting larger?  The walls extending but minutely, as the light faded.  Vivi helped Arthur stay on his feet, though he was moving away from the lush red carpet as it sizzled under foot; as if there was fire snapping at his feet.  

Mystery wriggled out from under the bed and hopped up onto the mattress.  The dog’s gaze followed the gradual progress of the carpet and walls until the two alterations met at the edge of the wall.  Mystery twisted around and gave Vivi his attention, one ear bent down at a loss.

“Lew?” Vivi whispered.  “Is this you?”  Savanah and Tyler ambled around whining, shooting startled eyes along the walls as the room contorted around them.  “You’re going too far with this.  Do you hear me?  You have to stop.”  She whips around when Arthur leaps onto the couch, one of the few areas of the room unaltered.

“He’s gonna kill me!” Arthur squealed.  He heaved the blanket from the floor up over his head and buried down into the cushions.  Mystery wasn’t far behind Arthur’s escape, and hops up into the thin wedge between the chairs arm and Arthur’s quivering body.  “He’s promised!  He swore, oh god!  This is it! Dead!  I’m dead- I’m dead!”  Mystery looped his paws over Arthur’s back and huddled down, he looked to Vivi.

“Pull yourself together!”  Vivi stooped beside Arthur and put an arm over a clear space on his spine.  Arthur shook something bad and tensed at her touch, whimpering incomprehensive words muffled by the blanket tangled about him.  “Pull yourself together!  Art!  Nothing’s happened so far!  Listen to me!  You—” All at once what little light had remained throughout the rooms metamorphosis dimmed, though blessedly not total darkness.  Vivi could still see Arthur and Mystery clearly, she could see across the room the distant walls.  “Lewis.”

A panicked shriek comes from the other side as Savanah and Tyler threw themselves to the wall, where once stood a strong and proud door. “It was here!” Tyler yelped.  He slapped his palms to the door and felt around. “We came from here!”

“Where is it?  Mom! Mom!”  Savanah screamed.  They hit the wall, screamed for aid, begged whatever force listened.  “We didn’t mean anything!  It was just a game!”

“She made me do it,” Tyler bawled.  “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!” He twisted around to a low hissing-pop at his back, and shield his eyes from a flash of light.  “S-Savanah.”  His sister ceased pawing at the wall, and turned as Tyler tugged her arm.

On the floor lay the Ouija board with four candles burning by each corner, a vibrant flame that bounced and swayed, beckoning fuchsia light.  The glossy board with artistic rendition of sun and moon did nothing, but sat there on the foreign carpet and bathed in the otherworldly light.  In the center of the Ouija board was a black mare that resembled a burn.

This… it was beginning to make sense to Vivi, but she felt grossly uninformed.  She wanted to scream at Lewis to cease this nonsense, it had gone too far.  But she didn’t.  She could almost sense his presence strongly in the room pacing around, smell the fine kindling of his hot smoke as he waited.  If there was anything she had come to learn on her own of Lewis, it was that he was ruthlessly patient.

As if to answer her doubts over the nature of the scene, Vivi felt something brush into her leg.  She looked down.  One of the tool bags, a few of the incense sticks poked out from the top flap oddly, tips aflame.  Mystery gave a low sound, a hum, as Vivi reached down and plucked out the burning sticks.  She blew out the flames and kept the wicks held in front of her, the sweet scented fumes trail off as she shifts her footing on the carpet.

Somewhere at the wall Tyler and Savanah had huddled down and sniffled into their arms.  Vivi began to approach the teens slowly, it was difficult to see and the carpet had begun to resemble the ripped rug of a certain foyer.  The darkness that had been sewn into the walls of the room now constricted its prisoners, wound down and deep; barely recoiled from the four candles that huddled around the blemished Ouija board. When Vivi turned and checked her progress from the couch, she could see neither Arthur or the rooms furnishings, nor were Mystery’s soft coos audible.

With a breath from the sweet aroma of the sticks, Vivi leans over the board and fans the smoke.  “Spirit,” she commands.  “Be gone.”

Rather vanquish the hostility the Ouija board begins to spins between the candles.  The board whirls so fast it becomes a blurred disk, but the flames upon the wicks never sway at its dictation.  Okay.

“You two played with this,” she accuses.  “This is yours.”

“No, no,” Tyler pleads.  He tries to grab ahold of his sister, but Savanah just shoves him away and holds herself.  “I promise. It’s… realy, it’s her’s.”

“Shut up,” Savanah hissed.

The Ouija board spins faster and faster.  If it were not held down by the force that commanded it, it might’ve flown off into the great beyond that swelled around them. Still, Tyler and Savanah continue to deny every seeing it, buying it, all the way down to denying knowledge of what the cursed thing actually was.  The more they beseeched and whined, the faster the board twirled on the floor; the longer the Ouija board spun, the darkness all around them thickened and loomed; closing in, tightening over the bright flames of the candles, until neither of the three could see anything but the individual candle wicks between them. Savanah and Tyler clung to the wall paper behind them unwilling to risk seeking safety in the alien light, even when they could no longer see who it was that sat beside them.  Until finally—

“Yes!” Savanah barked.  “YES!  I got it from a friend!  I didn’t know!  We just wanted to know if our house— We WANTED a haunted house!”

And like that the Ouija board halts mid gyration, the darkness recedes, but not completely.  The nearest walls become visible, but not the rest of the room.

Vivi’s hair was starting to dry and little lone strands begin to stick up whichever way they wanted.  She was cold too, though the air felt very warm.  Her clothing had been practically soaked through.  “Okay,” she said.  “What needs to be done is… a closing prayer!  Have either of you done a closing prayer before?”  The unanimous mumble was ‘huh?’  “That’s a problem,” she continues, shaking her head.  Arthur was coughing, choking.  She felt better knowing he was out there somewhere, at least she knew where he was more or less.  “A closing prayer sort of frees spirits from the board, and also protects those that use it.  Only those apart of the session can close a session, it won’t work unless all members are present.”  She gave them a critical eye and raised the incense sticks near her face.  “Did anyone else help you with your session?” Savanah shook her head.  

“You sure?  This is kind of important.”

Again, she pushed Tyler away.  “No.  Just us,” she said.

Vivi nods.  She lowers herself to the floor before the board, the incense held beside her. “Come closer.  You have to help me with this, or none of us will leave.” Neither of the two teens would leave the wall.  “You can stay there for as long as you like, but there won’t be a way out till you fix this.”  She held out a stick of incense.  “This will… protect you.”  She glanced aside and tried not to roll her eyes.

Reluctantly, Savanah shuffled forward, Tyler followed her lead.  The two faced the board where it had stopped, the images and symbols facing them.  Vivi handed them each a stick of incense.

Savanah sniffed.  “Is that blueberry?”

“Uh-huh.  It purifies the air, and it’s good for a séance,” Vivi chirped.  At a thought, she turns and calls into the dark. “Art?  You wanna help?”  A muffled whine came, and a separate bark from Mystery.  “I’ll take that as a no.”  

When the two siblings lowered to their knees, Vivi began fanning the remaining sticks she held over the Ouija board.  “Now, we’ll thank the spirit for sharing their energy with us,” Vivi explained.  “You’ll repeat after me:  ‘Thank you for sharing this sacred time with me.’”  Tyler and Savanah followed without a hitch, and aimlessly trailed their sticks above the now placid board, in a similar manner to that of Vivi’s antics. “‘We appreciate the flow of energy we have experienced, and we will use it for our highest good.’”  When they finished with that portion of the prayer, Vivi indicated the candles at the Ouija board’s corner.  “Start blowing the candles out—”

“Blowing the candles out,” Tyler blurted.  Savanah nudged him in the side and he winced.

“It will be fine,” Vivi assured.  “Do it slowly, not fast.  Be respectful.”  She waited as the two teens took a candle each to blow out.  “Say now:  ‘As we blow out these candles,’” Savanah and Tyler begin to repeat, between snuffing out the candle light.  The bright halo around their epicenter dims but doesn’t black out the transparent illumination completely.  “‘We close the sacred space, and ask that your protection surrounds us wherever we go today.’”  Vivi dips her head.  “Thank you two, that was very good.”  

“It’s dark,” Tyler’s voice whimpered.  There was a crackling sound, and Tyler was groaning again.

“Is not, the lights coming back on,” Savanah said. And Vivi saw it was true, the air and walls about them was brightening and Vivi could see Savanah pointing up. “Look!  The light’s working again.”

The light in the low ceiling gradually brightened, revealing a room restored, a small comfortable room with beige carpet and soft pastel walls.  And doors.

Once the two saw that the door was returned, they tore away from the abandoned Ouija board and smoking candles on the floor.  The two fought to reach the doorknob, and spent more time fighting over the door that it took a full minute before one of them, Vivi wasn’t sure who precisely, had ripped the door wide open and they tumbled out into the hall.  Their rapid footfalls clambered down the hall and soon the room was again subdued and quiet, and preferable.

Coughing, Arthur pokes his head up from the blanket and looked around.  “Vi. Vi.  You okay?”  She doesn’t answer Arthur, she’s watching where the two had barged out from.

As the door swung back towards its frame, Lewis is revealed leaning back into the wall behind the panel.  He reached a hand over to shut the entry the rest of the way, and holds up his hands as Vivi jumps to her feet.  “Don’t get those near me,” he says.

Vivi was about to argue, but forfeits that and just dumps the incense on the Ouija board.  “Did you do a session with them, without my permission?” she pried, as she… she tries to fix her damp pants.  It was a hopeless measure.  “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be giving those two good vibes for the rest of the day.”

Lewis smirked and shook his head.  “No.  It wasn’t my session you helped them close.”  He raised his arms anticipating an embrace as Vivi hurries at him, but instead sets her hands over his.

“I gather you have some things you need to tell us later,” she says.  “But first things first, we still don’t have a solution for our current problems.  We don’t know the first thing about these spirits, and scaring those two did not help.”  She stopped talking, when Lewis set a finger gently to her lips.

“Mi dulce arándano,” Lewis hummed.  “You saved those kids, and in the process got rid of those ‘spirits.’”  

Wait, no, that wasn’t what she was trying to do. Vivi took a step back from Lewis, conflicted by the whole ordeal and the repercussions undoubtedly unleashed.  She hadn’t done anything, hadn’t tried.  Not yet, she didn’t.  She gazed at him and squinted her eyes.  “Lew?  What did you do?”

Lewis frowns, and motions a hand to the neglected Ouija board behind Vivi.  “A candle for each spirit,” is all he’d say.

__

The hall clicked with the sharp footfalls of Beatrice Hirstein’s swift, calculated strides.  The words of her young teens boiled her blood, fueled the contorted fury that navigated her course of action.  She was a rational woman but she had limits, and they would NOT be tested.

When she reached the door of the guest room she brought her quick stride to an abrupt halt and reached out, her knuckles tapped gently on the door.  “Excuse me in there,” her voice projected.  She paused and listened, there was no response, no voices, but she could hear the muffled movement behind the door.  “Hello! I need to speak with you!”  She reached out and pounded on the door this time.

The panel heaved back from Brea’s fist and the blue manager of the investigative group stood before her.  Vivi blinked at the raised fist and focused past it, to the other woman. “Er… yes?  Oh, your kids.”  Vivi cast a backwards glance as she stepped forward and into the hall with Brea, she jerked the door shut behind her.  

“Yes, my kids!”  Brea harped.  She stiffened, squared her shoulders tightly as her face contorted as if struggling to compress the string of words that had backed up into her stewing rampant.  She finally found her words, and spat, “WHAT happened in there?  Your group is supposed to be protecting my family!  Your meddling has caused nothing but trouble, and you – YOU have taken no action to remedy our plight!  I am attacked in my own kitchen, we hear voices all day and all night, then THIS! What am I even paying you for?!”

Vivi had her hands up in no large effort to calm the screaming woman, she could only wait until Brea had spent her breath and was ready for some feeble explanation (if she would allow it).  Once the woman had wheezed out her final sentence, Vivi offered a moment and ensured that no sudden surge of accusation would spring forth from the parched well.  The children in question were nowhere in sight.

“It was an experience,” Vivi starts.  Brea looked as if she was about ready to burst again.  “But harmless, I… promise.  The situation was under control, and dealt with accordingly.” The door popped open a crack at Vivi’s back and she twists around.  The marred Ouija board is shoved through the small opening from the side, when Vivi accepts the board from the opening, the door clicks shut.

“And this here,” Vivi announced, holding the board across to Brea.  “This might be the cause of your problems.”

Brea took the board and flipped it over, she spotted the burn mark on the center immediately and touched the edge of the black melted surface.  “What is this?”

Vivi weaved her fingers together and raised her elbows at her sides, in a kind of shrug.  “Whether you believe in it or not, these ‘game’ boards can be dangerous.” For the first time Brea noticed that Vivi was not dressed at all for the day, and her hair was very messy and stuck up in odd clumps.  Vivi resumed, nonchalant.  “I can’t confirm, and I doubt that your kids would admit it, but sometimes playing with tools such as this can awaken spirits from dormancy, or invite them in. Particularly, when the board is not closed properly.  I assure you, Mrs. Hersh— er, Hirsetin, that we have performed our required task and your poltergeist problem has been eliminated, as per your request.”

The door again snapped open, but this time there was additional shuffling and bumbling about.  Mystery dropped to his four legs and padded by the two, one of the provision bags carried in his teeth.  Brea returns her attention to the door as the yellow clad figure totters out, a few bags carried in one hand, a metal arm pinned in one of the bags slung over his only feasible shoulder.

“I told you not to pack up on your own,” Vivi protested, as she brushed by Brea in pursuit of Arthur.

Arthur shrugged the straps over his shoulder as he walked.  “No sweat, we didn’t nab everything.  Excuse me, Mr. Hirstein.”

Coming in from his morning walk, Mr. Hirstein held the door open for Arthur and Mystery as the two slipped out.  “Good afternoon,” he said to the visitors.  Mr. Hirstein was not very tall, not very young, and was hardly ever present during their investigation.  “Leaving already?”

“Probably?” Vivi uttered, as she and Brea caught up.

“Really?” Brea challenged.  She moved over to stand (tower) beside her husband, the offending Ouija board was placed upon a bookshelf beside the large front door.  “I want some proof that our home has been cleansed.  Don’t you laugh at me.”  Mr. Hirstein shields the side of his face with a hand as he shuts the front door behind Arthur and the dog.  He had to have a chuckle at his wife once in a while.

“And I want concrete proof about the paranormal being more than smoke and mirrors,” Vivi retorts.  “Our contacts will be in touch with you for a follow up within two to five weeks.  There’s an emergency contact, if you absolutely cannot wait.  Truthfully, I don’t think you’ll have any more problems with the house, now that this has been taken care of.”  Vivi nodded towards the Ouija board behind Brea.

“This is highly unorthodox,” Brea huffed.  “You can’t just abandon a family in need of your services.”  Mr. Hirstein shook his head as he walked away, leaving his wife to handle the matter.

“The paranormal is anything but a perfect science,” Vivi elaborates.  She wanted this done, before Arthur made efforts to load up all on his own.  “The cleansing ritual was as complete as we could manage, and the spirit seems to have departed for good.”  Vivi mentally rolled her eyes. “Listen, I have a small ritual you can follow that can help while we’re gone, but as you can see,” Vivi motioned her current state. “You sorta caught us at a bad time.”

At first Beatrice was reluctant to allow the exchange to end there, and was rearing up for another reason why these matters needed to be attended to, and NOW.  But as Vivi pointed out, she was not ready for the day, and this in Mrs. Hirstein’s book screamed the lack of discipline these people practiced.  She gave them their space, allowed them to work unimpeded, yet here they were smack dab on noon and neither of them looked ready for anything short of disappointing their parents, which wouldn’t surprise Brea.  For now Beatrice was willing to let Vivi off, in favor of attending to her kids and learning more from their side of the matter.

One quick shower later and Vivi was ready to tackle summary discussion.  Arthur saw her right on that task, in a hurry to get them off the hook as fast as she could manage.  He was helping in the way she forbade him to, but he really needed something to do while she renewed the ancient battle with Mrs. Hirstein.

“And what if I don’t?” Brea threatened.  She was at the end of the hall near the dining room doors, Vivi held out what he knew to be the clipboard with the dismissal form, and something else; not a pin.

Vivi’s voice was laced with irritation, Arthur could almost envision Lewis looming over her glaring hot holes into Mrs. Hirstein’s head. “I’ve already told you, this is standard procedure,” Vivi went on, teeth gritted.  “If your problems persist, then your case will be reopened and another group can handle it.  This is the extent of paranormal intervention, the same procedure would follow….” Vivi continued, saying whatever could be said to get Beatrice Hirstein to sign that damn form.  Arthur could tell Vivi was insincere about most of what she was saying, and wholly relied on the account that Lewis had offered to slip them on out of this place.  Lewis had seemed pretty shaken when Vivi had threatened to knock his skull clean off his shoulders, if they so much as got wind that the Hirstein’s were still having problems.  However, Lewis saving grave may have been former association with the overall nature of the Hirstein’s.

Mystery followed Arthur the whole time.  He frolicked through the snow on their way out to the open van, and pranced along with Arthur when he returned to the warm interior of the home.  The warmth was only a temporary relief.  Young Tyler had been seated on the lowest step for some time watching as Arthur and Mystery struggled in and out of the door with the few bags of supplies.

“You don’t even have a film crew,” Tyler said. Yeah, Arthur was very much ready for those long nights on the open road.

Conversation prickled forth from the dining room, most likely moved there when the setting of the current subject had.  Arthur stuck his hand in his pocket as he walked, Mystery padded along beside him with a slow stride.  Vivi was still at it, trying to chip through the mile deep of impervious empathy.

“Burn the sage by the food,” Vivi was saying.  “It doesn’t need to be exclusive breakfast, it can even be something simple.  A bowl of soup.”  

“Is this all even necessary for the… process?” Beatrice sounded disgusted by the idea of leaving food out to sit for any length of time.  “Won’t it draw them back?”

“That’s never happened,” Vivi said, voice flat.  “It’s only meant to be a courtesy to the spirit, something about subsiding energies and offering a sort of peace.  It’s a custom that’s been handed down through the centuries, and though we still don’t understand its origins it’s still practiced.” Vivi looked back as Arthur and Mystery entered the dining room, the clipboard was held behind her back as she spoke.  By the dining table across from Vivi’s posture stood Brea, a plate with a sage bundle on it sat at the table’s center.

“Try leaving out a bhut jolokia,” Arthur mentioned, as he stepped through the double doors.  “That’d do the tick.”  Vivi gave him this vacant stare for s splint second, before she turned back to Brea. As she looked away Arthur stumbled forward, nearly falling to the floor.  Mystery yelped and ducked aside, possibly making ready to duck under Arthur if he fell the whole way.

“You okay?” Vivi yelped.  She sprang over to Arthur as he regained his balance, Arthur flashed his wide eyes around the room as Vivi caught him by the shoulders.  “Art?  Look at me.”

“Was he pushed?” Beatrice hollered, from where she stood.  She hadn’t moved an inch.

Arthur gently pushed Vivi away.  He raised his foot to the floor and tapped his toe behind him.  “Naw. I just… old shoes.”  He put his hand on his shoulder and gave Vivi a thin smile.  “I’m about ready for some brunch.”

To top it all off the van wouldn’t start.  The day just overall sucked.

Arthur hummed to himself as he tried to crank the engine over, yet again.  It was just on the edge, he could feel it, but it just wouldn’t ignite.  He slid out from the driver side and checked the cable connections on the battery in the cab, checked the cables on the spare battery that was sitting upon a dirty work towel placed on the road.  Maybe it was the spare, he hadn’t tested it to see if it had power before he brought it over.  He doubted it in the first place and considered just disconnecting the spare, either way, it was work but he had some hope that there would be enough charge to kick the van engine up.    

Mystery hopped out of the middle seat when Arthur returned, in the back Vivi shuffled around organizing the supplies Arthur and him had dumped in.  Arthur had been in too much of a hurry to do that sort of detail work, but Vivi didn’t really do it either until….  Anyway, he figured he’d be occupied with the battery for a bit.  The engine ‘rrred’ at him as he tried the key again, and Arthur hummed a little louder to himself.

Branches wound their gnarled fingers up the and down the walls, the chipped wallpaper was splint over the deformed knots.  The deeper he ran through the gloomy halls, the snugger the walls wound about him.  It felt like the tangles of branches were closing in over his head, Arthur stooped forward as he ran in a breathless panic, seeking the smallest chip in the twilight that would deliver him from the suffocation.  Heat burned up his lungs and through his chest, his eyes watered. He wanted to scream for help, call out for his friends.  The only sound he could manage was a thick gurgle as he spiraled down and down.

Arthur felt his hand trembling at the steering wheel. He couldn’t feel his arm.  It was a hellish sensation, too familiar.  He coughed a bit on the soreness and leaned back into the car seat.  The seat beside him was empty, there had been something like comfort in the vacant space. Then it was filled up with a dark shape, colors, the sudden contrast slammed into the white backdrop of the snow filled lawn.  Arthur jerked in his seat and scooted away.

“Jeez, Lew,” Arthur gasped.  He brought his hand to his eyes and rubbed away the spots.  “I’m gonna tie a bell to you, I swear.”  The radio crackled with sounds, one of the stations they had been listening to before Arthur had to shut it off.  He could have changed the radio station, but that hadn’t occurred to him when they had been driving.  He just wanted the noise gone.

Lewis began to say something, at least that distorted rattle had arisen like a living person taking a short breath before words came. Vivi cut him off with a sharp cry, “Did you shove him!”  Lewis winced and jerked about in his seat, what little of his living appearance he had dragged on quickly rolled off like beads of water on a hot skillet.  Lewis had already begun to tuck down more toward the floorboard of the van, his skull dipped into the top edge of his suit collar. As for Vivi, she towered over the seats back and glowered down her nose onto the shrinking ghost below.  “You be honest with me!  I won’t tolerate this!”

“Vi!” Lewis squealed.  “You’re taking this the—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Lewis!”

“Would you not?” Arthur snapped.  He twisted around in his seat to more or less face Vivi down, or tried, for all Arthur’s crippling intimidation could manage.  “I tripped, I told you!  That iz what happened.  What, you think I’m lying?  WHY?  Why don’t you believe me?”  He couldn’t keep their eyes locked, Arthur had to spin away and go back at the engine. “Accidents happen,” he sputtered, as he fumbled around the steering wheels base. “And you can’t always just blame someone.  Hold on, gimmie a sec.” He tried the key again, gave it a little twist of his wrist and the engine blared to life, strong and proud, a guttural snarl of fossil fuels surging through its pipes.  “See! There, got it!”  Arthur slung out of his seat and hurried to the vans front, nearly slipping on the ice as he went.

Vivi sighed.  She watched Arthur’s shape flash out of sight beyond the raised hood of the van. Lewis remained pinned where he was at the floorboard, his dark eye sockets stare up at her imploringly.  “Tell me why,” Vivi murmurs.

The faint lights in Lewis’ skull flash.  “I… didn’t.  He— he’ll need help with that battery.”  Vivi pushed him down by his shoulder when Lewis tried to rise up, and used Lewis as leverage to swing over the bench seat.

“They’re probably watching,” she snarled.  This was probably more than true.  “Just stay here and out of trouble.”  She aimed a hard stare and a finger back at Lewis’, as she backpedaled around the front of the van to join Arthur.  

The hood cracked down, the whole van shaking with the force and Vivi talking over the sound of the engines rumble.  She was grumbling about Arthur doing too much, overworking himself or something and an arm.  While it was all clear Lewis pulled himself up over the backseat and lowered into the vans back.  Mystery was there, paws on his ears and eyes perked up toward Lewis as the ghost settled down.

“Um…” Lewis began, skull raising an inch out of his suit collar.  “I’ll just… wait over here.”  Mystery didn’t question it.  Simultaneously, the two look to the vans back when the doors tore open.

“You’re just gonna rest a’while and I’ll drive first! Move Mystery,” Vivi shot.  She waved a hand Mystery’s way, and the dog relocated himself to corner of the van opposite to Lewis’ current occupation.  “Thank you.”  Vivi fumbled one handed for the floor latch imbedded in the carpet, and heaved up the hidden panel in the floor.  “No!  I don’t need your help.  You’ve done enough helping!  You’ve helped enough to cover for the next five thousand years!”

Lewis slinked back into his corner and shared a glance with Mystery.  While Vivi loaded in the heavy battery, Arthur climbed up into the van on the driver side.

“I am capable of driving,” Arthur mumbled.  “For the first few—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” Vivi cut in.  She punctuated with the slamming of the floor compartment, and the shutting of the back doors.  Her voice continued, as it tracked along the side of the van towards the driver side.  “I need something to get my mind of this insult to our trade, or I might just… UGH! Lemme get inside!  Scoot!  Scoot over!” Arthur complied, fearful of the tone in Vivi’s voice.  He shut the passenger door and Vivi hauled the driver side door shut.  The engine still grumbled its moody hum, and fog spewed along the side of the windshield.  Vivi gave a shrill cry and beat at the steering wheel with her fists.

Lewis raised his head up and exchanged a fearful look with Arthur.  Poor-poor Arthur, pinned by the passenger door, unable to work door handles when he was in a state of panic.  Lewis almost felt sorry for him.

“Are… you okay?” Arthur mumbled.

“Those… PEOPLE!” Vivi fumed, still smacking at that poor steering wheel.  Arthur wanted to remind her that he had barely gotten the engine started, but he wasn’t ready to become the next target of her wrath.  If he remained small and helpless, Arthur would be safe. In theory, that is.  

Mystery pulled himself up on his front paws and looked Arthur’s way, but the dog seemed to snicker at the scene instead.

“I take it after all that heart-to-heart, you two never saw eye-to-eye?” Arthur chanced, barely above a whisper.  He regretted it immediately when he spoke, and hoped Vivi didn’t hear that.

“WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CLUE?”

She heard.

[shadowofthelamp]

I Think We Might Be Related

Summary: Johnny gets a call from a kid who claims he might be his nephew. He decides to see for himself.

(Rated teen just for a few brief gore mentions and language, pretty in line with the comics)

Based off my theory that Membrane is either Johnny C’s brother or that Johnny’s plasma donation was used to help stabilize and differentiate the Dib clone.

Wordcount: 2600

Read on ao3

Reblogs/replies/tags/likes are all super appreciated, I love hearing what people think!

The phone rang. In most houses, that’s not a very unusual occurrence. Number 777 was not most houses.

The owner of 777, (or rather, the occupant- if there was a landlord, they’d either been dismembered or made otherwise defunct a long time ago) was currently laid out on the couch, watching an old-timey show about cowboys when the loud ring rattled his eardrums. He sat up, long limbs running into each other like spaghetti in a pot before his hand curled around the phone and he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, are you…” There was a shuffling of papers. “Johnny C?” The voice sounded young.

“Is this the library- did you get my submission? Your voice is high-pitched, are you an intern? Selling your hours and youth for no pay is only killing your soul on the inside, you know. Although the library does provide the public with comic books, so I guess-”

“No, I’m not with the library. I live a little further in the city, and… I think we might be related? You might be my uncle, or something like that.” The kid’s voice quirked up the same way Johnny’s heart started doing a kickline with his lungs.

“You think?” Uncle. Uncle implied a sister or a brother. A family. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thought of family, other than turning around the soaked marshmellow of his brain that revealed jackshit about who he was.

“Yeah, it’s a… really long story, but the short version is that I was rummaging around with my DNA, and your name was one of the few on file. The others were all dead ends.”

“In your DNA?” Okay, this kid was definitely fucking with him. Served him right for even thinking about hoping for a clue. “Right, and I’m the muffin man, running off and leaving his kids in a place called dreary lane. Seriously, who does that?”

“I promise this isn’t a prank, don’t hang up! Are you still living in 684 South?”

“No.” Was that his old address? It sparked recognition that then died smoking like a match in a tray of water. It was probably a good sign, though, unless this kid was a stalker.  “777 Offmain.”

“Okay. Can I… meet you at some point? I just want to get to know you. As a person. Like me. Okay, wow, this is coming out weird. I promise I’m not an axe-murderer.”

At that, Johnny cracked up. He ruffled a hand through his hair- he liked how the longer spikes flopped over his eyes. Sometimes. Sometimes he wanted to hack it all off, not feel the grease and salt the congealed when he didn’t move long enough that his body made itself disgusting again, but then he just stuck a beanie on it and forgot all about it until the urge passed. He’d cut part of it off once and it had just sat in the kitchen for a… week? Time was funny.

“Well, we can’t both be, can we?”

“I’ll... man, my self-preservation instincts have really started going down the toilet since I started following an alien with an arsenal strapped to his back, but can I stop by tomorrow at around three?”

“Happy Friends is on at three. Make it four.”

“Alright! Sounds good. Gosh, this is exciting, I’ve never met any real family besides Dad- okay, that was oversharing. Oversharing’s bad, especially to strangers.”

“If we’re family, we’re not strangers.” Johnny’s grip on the phone tightened, and he could see the tendons and veins on the back. Hmm. Maybe he could pick up sculpting, see if he was ever any good at that. The human body was properly horrifying in mere existence.

“See you then- should I call you Johnny or what?”

“Johnny is fine for now, but if we really are related, I’ll go with Nny. So, how are we related anyways?”

“I’m not sure. I’m hoping it’ll click when we meet.”

“So, what’s your name, anyways?”

“Dib.” And with that, the line went dead and Johnny went to see if he could make anything good enough to hang up on the wall out of fingerpaints.

If his leg bounced and his chest felt vise-like, he blamed the coffee patches and the 30 hours of no sleep.

______________

Dib knocked on the door at 4:10. Johnny pulled it open, staring down at him.

“Geez, you got a water balloon pumped up inside your head or something?” He had really big glasses, the kind that said when he didn’t have them on he probably couldn’t see half a foot in front of his face without tripping over something. His skin was the same shade as Johnny’s, he was pretty sure, but he had some faint freckles. Duh, he was a kid, he probably had to go outside to go to school and stuff.

“Well, that could have been a better start.” The kid had a briefcase- what kind of kid had a briefcase? No kid that should have existed, kids should be dragging around teddy bears like Squee or grimy dolls filled with teething marks. Oh wait, he was holding out his non-briefcase hand. “I’m Dib. I’d say it’s nice to meet you but now I’m not so sure about that.” He craned his head. “Oh, wow. Your house is a mess but I’ve been in our living room when Gaz is on one of her marathons and this is only moderate compared to that. Did you try and paint your own walls?”

“Gaz? That’s a fun name. Who's she?”

“My- you know what? I’m not volunteering any more information until I get a little more on you besides your name and height. Looks like weight changed. Wow, you’re a stick.” Dib rummaged around in his pocket, pulling out a wrapper with a big grinning mascot on it and handing it to Johnny. It was a chocolate protein bar. “You can have that one, I’ve got dozens.”

Johnny tore open the wrapper, stuffing half of it in his mouth. Damn, it was good, actually. Who would want a protein bar that tasted like sawdust when you could make it sweet? “So, is there any magical connection? I like the coat, though.”

Dib beamed. “Really? Everyone says it’s too much, but I say that there’s nothing like twirling around in a good coat and feeling the wind snap on the fabric when you run.”

“Oh, that is a good feeling. One of the best. Shame I can never keep mine, they always end up tossed to the void whenever something happens or I get particularly dramatic. It always feels excellent in the moment, but then you’re left with cold shoulders and regret for the strawberry grandma candy you left behind in the back pocket.”

“You know, I think I see the resemblance.” Dib said. “I’ve got your cheekbones, and nose. Maybe you’re my uncle? Do you know Professor Membrane?”

“That guy on tv? He’s kind of fun.” Johnny watched it when it was on sometimes.

“That’s my dad. I take it he’s not your brother if that was your reaction, though.”

“Dab-”

“Dib.”

“Dib. My head’s been shot to shit, both literally and figuratively. There’s scars on the back I don’t remember getting there. I had some serious garbage claw me up, and I wouldn’t be able to tell a brother from the easter bunny unless it slapped some chocolate eggs up my ass.” He ripped another portion of the bar off with his teeth.

Dib sagged a little. “Oh… Dad’s always been really tight-lipped about any other family. I hoped-”

Johnny swallowed the chunk of chocolate protein bar. “Look, I haven’t got the answers for any existential crisis you may be having. I’ve been through quite a few of my own, if we’re being honest. But I have some chips that are going stale and a TV that has colors that make your eyes bleed that tickles pretty feelings up your skull. I also haven’t left the house in five days. If you have anything interesting to say, we can talk about it over some cartoons.”

Dib perked up again at that. “You… want to listen to me?”

“Depends on what you’ve got to say.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a mouth on you, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I’ve got loads! I love the paranormal, and some parts of math but not all of them, and also no one ever listens to me about the alien that goes to my school-”

“Alien? I’m curious, tell me more.”

Dib made a squeaking noise so strange Johnny wasn’t sure he hadn’t just had his organs spontaneously combust.  “Hey? Kid? Kid, I don’t wanna clean up another corpse already, I’m running out of trash bags.”

“You really- wait, another one?”

Johnny grabbed the knife in his belt- he’d nicked himself with it a dozen times but it was nice and convenient and he liked that. “Just a joke. I mean, kids like jokes, right? How old are you, nine?”

“I’m twelve!” Dib tugged at the bottom of his shirt. “Anyways, so there’s this alien named Zim, he is the biggest pain in my butt, and I don’t know if you remember when gravity stopped working for a bit a couple of weeks ago and everything started freaking out and going screwy, but that was him-”

“Oh, huh. I was wondering why I made footprints on the ceiling. I figured the squirrels did it.” Johnny said. “Do I have to worry about him destroying the world? Because I’m pretty sure earth is the only planet with slushie machines and it would be just criminal if the universe lost those. Shame you have to deal with people to use them, but everything has a price.”

“Apparently, aliens have slushie machines too, I’ve asked.” Dib said. “Well, I stole a couple of Zim’s files, and he orders alien versions of them with his shipments of food. But that’s not what matters, he’s trying to take over the- wait, you actually believe me?”

Geez, kid, slushies always mattered. “Sure. I got abducted on a Tuesday once. Stuck a couple of needles in me, but tossed me back down hard enough to fuck up my spine when I managed to eviscerate one. Wish I’d brought a camera, those guts looked delightful- and it was so clean! No blood, they had robot insides!”

Dib took half a step back. “Uh-”

“And it was blue, can you believe that? Like one of those crabs! The horsey ones- hey, maybe those were aliens too.”

Dib blinked, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe. A friend of mine has a theory like that anyways. So… what do you do?”

Johnny stared at him. “Whatever I want. I go to the movies, I eat stuff, I kill people.”

Dib’s mouth twitched before he started laughing. “Pffft, you’ve got such a straight face!”

“Just so you know, if you hear any screaming, don’t worry, they’re all restrained.”

“Right, right.” Dib settled down on the couch. “Oh, nice, this is surprisingly comfortable.”

Johnny settled down next to him. He knew how to talk to Squee- poor kid barely said a word most of the time. He really needed to help him be more confident. Maybe he could get him a hampster. Pets made people more responsible, right?

Then again, Nailbunny hanging on the wall said otherwise. Although that could just be him.

But this Dib kid, he didn’t really seem at all phased. Which was weird- weren’t you supposed to be nervous around strangers? Especially ones that had houses like his, with blood splattered on the walls and a noose tucked in the corner. Maybe that big head’s meaty brain was stuffed with stuff from the aliens instead of common sense, or just figured that the new weird skinny guy was just joking. Squee had first seen him with blood splattered all over. He hugged his legs to his chest, watching the kid pull out a laptop that looked real fancy. Maybe he was rich. Oh, right, if his dad was on tv he probably was.

“Anyway this is Zim- and this is a couple sketches I’ve made of him without his disguise. I’ve seen it, but the pictures keep getting destroyed because the universe really hates me.”

“We’re in the same boat, then.” Johnny said. “If there is anything looking over the Earth, it always picks a couple people to just dump dookie on, just for shits and giggles. It’s a pain in the ass, let me tell you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dib mumbled. “This is his little robot in a dog costume.”

“That’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, not so much when he’s also got lasers attached to him.” Dib said. “He’s not as bad a Zim, though, mostly he’s just kind of dumb.”

Dib started rambling on about routines and habits and skin texture, and Johnny kind of checked out, preferring to run his eyes over Dib’s face. He was little, for a twelve year old- but then again, it wasn’t like Johnny spent a lot of time around twelve year olds. Or anyone. Dib's glasses slid down and he adjusted them twice in a few minutes without a pause. Listening to him was almost like putting on the radio in the background to distract from the car crashes outside and the nothingless and everythingness of being a human being. His voice was kind of whiny, but the crescendos in it with the tides of how emotional he got were almost like music.

“And then he started raving about how cloning is far superior to filthy human breeding, and that’s when I started getting curious about checking out the rest of my family.” Dib was breathing hard. He had a look on his face like he wasn’t used to being allowed to talk for that long. Frankly, Johnny agreed with the alien kid that the way people reproduced was utterly repulsive, but they’d come back around to why he’d let Dib in in the first place.

“Well, verdict?”

“Huh?”

Johnny held out his arms, one leg slipping off the couch while the other loosened so his heel rested on the edge of the couch cushion and his toe pointed up at the ceiling. “On me.”

“Well. You’re kind of weird, but I guess my whole family is like that.” Dib said. “And you actually do listen to me, which is a really nice change of pace.”

“It can get boring around here, and you’re not nearly as irritating as some other people can be. At least you ramble on about fun stuff.” Johnny shrugged just as there was a shriek from the stairs. Dib’s head whipped around.

“What was that?”

“A ghost, probably. Or I need to add more electricity to the guy from the church picnic...”

Dib set a hand on his forehead. “Yeah… yeah, probably.” He patted at his pocket, then seemed satisfied by whatever was inside. “Want me to exorcise it for you?”

“Nah, I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Alright, suit yourself but the offer is open.” Dib said. “You said you had TV?”

Johnny grabbed the remote. “What kind of idiot wouldn’t?”

Dib left about an hour later after laughing at the hokey acting on some soap opera, and Johnny realized he was in good enough of a mood that he whistled over the begging when he he slid his favorite knife through a man’s chest cavity and carved him open, collecting the viscera in a bucket.

He’d give the wall monster some organ meat to go with the coating, he decided. Give it a treat. And maybe he’d invite Dib over again sometime.