#i have literally spent hours and hours sitting in front of my computer just tweaking already written chapters

[thedeerman]

hey chat not gonna lie, the fact that i decided to post DYWTK chapters twice a week means that i've already written like three fucking weeks of content and I am so fucking impatient guys. Im so impatient. so uh, yeah. I might be upping that to three chapters a week for my own sanity lmao

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Regular (part 3): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: for Geto, there’s no one but you. And he wants that to be the same for you, too. Why would you even want anyone else? 

wc: 2.4K

tw: nsfw, nsfw, nsfw, please for the love of god dni if you’re minor. smut and more smut follows

a/n: There will be one last part for. wrap-up, but I literally have not written a single thing since before yesterday, so I’m writing today! Hope you all enjoy! 

part 1 part 1.5 part 2

Your finger fidgeted with the edge of your skirt as you sat in Mrs. Lampton’s office, waiting for her freckled face to appear in your line of vision. The office is a direct reflection of who Mrs. Lampton is: dimly lit with orange lighting and vintage movie posters hang on the right side of the wall above a mini zen garden; on the left side, there are various pictures of her as a dancer, the newspaper headline announcing that she had bought the club, and then a picture that featured her and all of the dancers from years ago. On her desk, the club manager had collected various crystals, each one a different color than the rest, and finally, on the wall behind her desk, a sign that read “Complaints will be heard from the hours of 6 am to 3 pm”, which, coincidentally, were hours when the club wasn’t open. 

She had called you in early to discuss something with you, but hadn’t shown her face at all since you walked in and plopped down on the cheap, orange vinyl seat. A moment later, the door to the office creaks open and Mrs. Lampton shuffles in, pushing her short red bangs away from her face. “Hey, y/n, thanks for coming in early for me. Just wanted to speak to you face to face before tonight.” She sounded exhausted, as if she had been dealing with other problems before she got to you.

“Am I in trouble?” you ask, lacing your fingers together nervously. 

“Huh?” The woman looks over at you as she slides the chair out from behind her desk. She shrugs her denim jacket off, revealing the multi colored striped shirt beneath paired with light wash mom jeans. “Why would you think you’re in trouble? Have you done anything to be in trouble for?” She leans forward, placing her pale elbows on the desk and looking into your eyes. 

“No, I--”

“Good. You’ve made yourself practically invaluable here and I wanted to make sure everything was going okay with you and Mr. Geto.” You think about the morning you spent with Suguru and the subsequent night you danced for him in the VIP room, which ended up being a makeout session towards the end. 

“E-everything’s fine.” 

“He’s treating you fairly?” 

“Yes.”

“Not getting too ahead of himself is he?” 

“Ahead of himself?” 

“You know, trying to play savior or--” 

“No, not at all.” In fact, he had insisted that you go back to the club that night and dance, even if it meant it was just you and him. He knew you liked the club; he was just there to make your experience happier.

“Great! Oh, also --” A drawer opens and Mrs. Lampton rummages around in it for a moment before pulling out a magazine. “Thought you would like to see this.” She slaps it down on the desk before turning to her computer and clicking around on it while you pick up the magazine. And there Suguru was, on page twenty-six, strolling alongside his blue-eyed friend - what was his name? Godo? Todo? Gego? Oh, Gogo. Right. 

The headline reads: “Their Companies are Merging, but They’re Total Opposites”. Suguru is dressed for a business meeting in a pair of black slacks and black shirt, complimented by a silver tie. Gogo, on the other hand, is wearing a grey turtleneck sweater and black skinny jeans, also in mid-conversation about something. The caption reads: Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru have a lot in common: they’re handsome, inherited their wealth, and are very eligible bachelors. But what you don’t know is that they couldn’t be more -

“Why are you showing me this?” The magazine plops down on the desk again and Mrs. Lampton looks over from her screen. 

“You need to know exactly who you’re entertaining. Geto’s family owns an international medical equipment giant, and his friend is literally the heir to the technology company Gautama.” 

You bite your lip at this news, suddenly remembering the magnitude of the situation at hand. Again, Suguru wasn’t just rich, and people didn’t just get into his personal business because he was handsome. One day, he would be the heir to a massive fortune and a company that relied on the public’s approval to maintain its efficacy. One wrong move, and Suguru could lose it all. You need to handle this predicament with care, not with some kind of illusionary idea that he could be--

“I see. Thank you, Mrs. Lampton.” The club manager shifts in her seat, giving you a tender smile before sliding an envelope your way. 

“And this came for you yesterday after you left.” Curious, you open the envelope, and look back up at Mrs. Lampton warily. “Do with it what you will.” 

“I can’t accept this; this is-” 

“Not my problem anymore. I’ll see you later, y/n.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

“I can’t accept this.” You hand the envelope and it’s contents back to Suguru, and he frowns deeply, hand slowly reaching out to take the paper. 

“What’s this?” He opens the envelope and takes out the check nestled inside, examining it carefully. “Oh, no.” 

“I can’t accept money from your friend.” 

“No, this isn’t right. Satoru would never…” Suguru shifts forward, trying to examine the check under the dim lighting of the room. “He would never do something like this. He’s an idiot, but he’s not a dumbass.” 

“Why would he send me a check for twenty thousand dollars?” 

“He wouldn’t.” Suguru folds the envelope in half, placing it in his pocket with finality. “I’ll deal with this, princess, don’t worry.” He places a tender kiss to your forehead, peppering your face with pecks until his lips reach yours. You moan into his mouth and slide your hands up to his, which are holding your face, and open your mouth to deepen the kiss automatically. Your tongues tangle between each other, dancing in the space made by your interlocked lips. When Suguru pulls away, you groan, leaning your head back with displeasure. 

“I want you tonight,” you whisper, and Suguru laughs, nipping at your lower lip. 

“You needn’t say another word.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

A long-sleeved kimono. 

A pair of men’s pants. 

A silk camisole and matching shorts. 

A grey shirt. 

All of them have been scattered across the room leading up to the four poster bed you’ve been politely deposited on. And the man between your legs is starving. 

He’s putting his hair up in a bun with a hair band, shirtless, while his muscles move methodically. And you’re lying before him, a spread of deliciousness waiting to be devoured by someone who has been deprived of your taste for too long. 

Once Suguru’s hair is no longer an issue, he slides his fingers between your legs, catching the slim digits on your core. You suck in a sharp breath as he begins rubbing your clit, relishing in the gentle touches he lavishes upon you. “Talk to me.” 

“That feels good,” you immediately respond to his command, fluttering your eyes closed. Suguru hums, the answer satisfying him enough that he slips a finger inside of you. You arch your back, pushing your cunt into his palm eagerly and mewling just a little.

“That’s it…” His free hand comes up to snake around the back of your neck and his lips come down to latch onto your right nipple. The hand on your neck slides down to tweak your other nipple as he pulls and sucks with his mouth eagerly, and you buck into his hand again as he tucks another finger inside of you, fully tethering you to his movements. 

“S-Suguru,” you breathe, and his eyes lift to meet yours, focusing on your blissed-out expression. The wine you tossed back before you both began your little tryst wasn’t doing you any favors, and your head swam at the lust-filled expression Suguru wore. Your nipple pops free from his lips and he blinks slowly, tilting his head like he always does when he’s about to ask you a question. 

“Has anyone else made you feel like this?” he wonders above you, and you look up to him, eyes half-lidded. 

“No.”

“Can anyone else make you feel like this?” 

“No… no one else can.” Your response to his stance of absolute ownership obviously pleases him as he snakes kisses down your stomach and flicks your clit with his tongue, fingers still nestled deep inside of you. “Su!” Instinctively you grab his hair, lacing your fingers through the strands as you push his face closer to your core. Suguru grains with pleasure, removing his fingers and diving head first into you without another word; his slick-covered hand pushes your right leg up, and the other hand rests on your hip lazily. 

But his tongue is anything but lazy as he eagerly attacks your slit, reminding you just how hungry he really is. When his other hand moves off of your hip and to the outline of his cock in his boxers, you want to help him palm his erection, wind your fingers around his length and tug, but you’re too far away. The solution comes moments later. 

“Su,” you begin, huffing as he continues to eat you out, but looks up to meet your eyes. “I want… I want to sit on your face.” His eyebrows shoot up at the request, and the black haired man pulls away from your core and kisses up your right leg before sitting up on his knees. 

“Then switch with me.” 

The command is yet again met with no resistance, and once Suguru settles in on his back, you carefully swing your leg over his shoulders, lowering yourself onto his face. Large hands rest on your ass cheeks as he resumes his feast, and your tiny hands find his cock, snaking beneath the waistband of his boxers with ease. 

When you first touch his member, he jolts a little then moans directly into your pussy. You never really noticed just how thick he was until that moment, sliding the offending fabric down until his cock is right in front of your face. You stroke it - fingers not even close to meeting around his thickness - and lick the tip with care then lower your whole mouth down his length.

“Oh, my god,” Suguru moans, the sound muffled by your thighs so it sounds more like a breathy “uhhmahgah” than anything else. You begin to bob your head and build a rhythm to your sucking, rarely stopping for air. You know you’re doing a good job when Suguru’s fingers on your ass tighten and his tongue stutters as you slowly build his orgasm. In the dim lighting of your usual, beautiful hotel room, you hope that no one can see you or Suguru pleasuring each other with abandon. That would make a very interesting headline. 

“Ah!” Suguru flips you over with a push which lands you on your back, head facing the footboard. He climbs over top of you, eyes still focused on your face, and lifts your legs back up, pushing your knees to your chest. 

“You were doing your job a little too well down there,” he hisses, lining himself up with your dripping core. You laugh for a second before he anchors himself with the backs of your knees and slowly sinks into you, hissing as he sheaths himself completely within your walls. Missionary… he loves it, and you do too, especially when he leans forward and presses his chest against your weak thighs. He can watch your face as he moves within you, and it’s the very fact that he’s the cause of your immense pleasure that spurs him on to a mind-bending orgasm. But you want something different… something new. 

“Wait,” you breathe, and Suguru looks up at you with curiosity. “We should… try something new.” Your mind flips through the endless pages of the Cosmopolitan rags in the dressing room, and you settle on something you’d seen just before your second day at the club. You lift one leg up precariously, and Suguru instantly catches on to your imagined position, turning you on your side. While snatching a pillow from behind him, he tucks your lifted leg over his shoulder and places the pillow under your back, where it supports you from falling over. 

“Fuck yes, that’s amazing,” you whine. He slides back into you with ease, holding your leg as he fucks you senseless. 

“Oh, yeah…” His groans mixed with your mewls of ecstasy fill the room, making a sweet symphony of noise for the neighbors (or someone above you) to hear. Skin slapping, grunts, rough touches and tender caresses -  everything you’ve grown to anticipate and desire from this man who has absolutely bewitched and been bewitched by you - are present right now. Nothing could take you out of this dream turned reality. “Y/n… this is heaven.” 

The admission from the man is accompanied by a stare that reaches down to your soul, and your hand flies to your clit. You want to make yourself cum and fast. He’s saying all the right things… doing all of the right moves, and you --

“I can’t let anyone else have you.” 

“Su--” you choke out, hoping that he would hear your pleas beyond his pleasure. “Su, I--” 

“Don’t need… t’say... a word,” he grunts. “I already... know.” He gets faster and deeper, stretching you past what you thought you could take and bringing you even closer to orgasm than you thought possible. “Just cum... Cum for me... That’s all I want.” 

Your fingers are working just like Suguru is, not pausing for even a second to give you any sense of reprieve. He litters kisses along your ankle and down your calf, all the while fucking your brains out. His hands knock your fingers away and do what only he can do, rubbing your clit better and faster than you can.

“Please… cum for me, princess.” Hot air drags into your throat and you exhale in what sounds like a dying woman’s groan, clutching at the sheets with all of your strength. Your walls spasm around his cock, and a wetness drenches your lower legs, sliding down onto the red fabric beneath you. 

“You’re so perfect,” Suguru whispers, closing his eyes. “You’re such a good girl… cumming all over me like that; god, I’m gonna--” His breath hitches in his throat as he unloads in you, his cock throbbing angrily as it deposits loads of cum inside of you. He shudders long and hard, practically hunched over your figure while you recover, panting deeply. 

A haze settles nicely over you while Suguru adjusts himself carefully and softly smooths a hand over your sweaty face. 

“Do you want to go again or should we call for new sheets?” 

“Again,” you answer definitively, and he smiles down at you before pressing a kiss to your cheek and murmuring, 

“I love it when you say that.” 

[today-we-will-survive]

06. House of Cards

A story based on the fictional HYYH world about six boys with unimaginable problems and their friend that can’t do anything to help.

Member: Yoongi

Genre: Angst

Warning: warnings are in my masterlist

Word Count: 4.4K

Parts can be found on my Masterlist under “The Most Beautiful Moment In Life”

A/N: New parts every Tuesday and Friday

It wasn’t long before we’d break apart, shatter like a glass vase on the tile floor.

March.

Min Yoongi let out a heavy sigh, leaning way back in his computer chair until his spine gave a satisfying crack. He’d been sitting hunched forward at his desk for hours now and this song he’d been working on for the past two weeks was just starting to finally take shape. His stomach growled and he glanced up at the corner of his monitor to see that three hours had passed since the last time he checked. Which meant he hadn’t eaten anything in almost six.

Just a little bit longer, he thought and rolled his shoulders before leaning back in.

The sound of a groan and the crunch of couch springs came from the room next to him and Yoongi pushed back in his chair again to peer through the doorway.

“Kook-ah,” he cracked, his voice raspy from not being used in so long. “Are you getting up?”

The maknae groaned again but sat up, his eyes still shut and his bottom lip jutting forward in a sleepy pout.

“You need to get going soon so you aren’t late for school.”

Another groan. “But it’s Friday. Can’t I just skip?”

“Taehyung’s been gone for almost a month now. You want Jimin to be alone?”

Jungkook was silent for a few seconds as he mulled over Yoongi’s words. “No, I guess not,” he said then with a huff, got to his feet.

A satisfied smile tugged at the corner of Yoongi’s mouth as he sat up and rolled back over to his desk, the wheels of his chair catching and scraping against the plywood floor.

His place was nothing special. Sheet rocked walls, plywood floors and no windows. He wouldn’t even call it a house. He’d barely call it livable. But it was home.

Each of the guys—besides Jin—had lived there at one time or another with him and Jungkook basically lived there all the time. Yoongi didn’t mind. He’d grown very fond of the boy. In fact, he saw a lot of himself in him. The kid was driven. He had so much potential. But life had dealt him a cruel hand. Luckily for him, Yoongi had been through something similar.

*

His parents had been the type to have his life mapped out for him from birth. They knew where he was to go to school, what college, what classes, what major, what profession he was supposed to end up with. He was their golden child and he tried to live up to their impossibly high standards for as long as he could. But music never factored in for them and when he discovered his love for it in middle school, his priorities changed. No longer did he have time for all of his AP classes or clubs or sports. It was music, music, music.

At sixteen, he dropped out and his parents—disgusted at their disgrace of a son—wanted nothing to do with him. Quickly, their golden child became less valuable than tarnished brass and they dumped him out on the street.

That was almost four years ago. The boy still spent most nights working on songs, writing, producing, marketing to try and get his foot in the door of the music industry but nothing had really happened. He wasn’t one to give up though.

*

“Hyung, have you slept at all?” Jungkook asked peaking his head into the doorway of Yoongi’s studio.

Yoongi’s eyes stayed glued to his monitor. “I slept yesterday,” he uttered suddenly feeling a rush of fatigue. He blinked hard.

“Have you at least eaten recently?” Jungkook took the older boy’s silence as a no and leaned in to place a bowl with an apple and a boiled egg on the edge of his desk. “Try to get some rest today, hyung.”

Yoongi grunted in reply, missing the fond smile that curled the corners of Jungkook’s mouth upward. A few seconds later, he heard the front door open. “Don’t forget your homework!” he called out.

Jungkook let out an exasperated cry before Yoongi heard frantic rustling, then a “bye, hyung!” and finally, the heavy door of the train car dragging across the ground and slamming shut with a metal clang. Once the echo faded, Yoongi cracked his neck and then leaned in again to his computer. This project wasn’t like any he’d worked on in the past. This one could possibly be the most important of his life.

He’d seen a job posting for a producing gig in Seoul; a position at a very well known label. One that had put out nothing but incredible music since it started. At first Yoongi had been hesitant to apply but then decided to give it a shot. What was the worse that could happen? They reject him?

Actually, yes. Rejection was the literal worst thing that could happen to Yoongi. Burn his house down. Steal all his money. Run him over with your car. But please. Please don’t tell him that the thing he’s worked so hard on, the thing that he’s so passionate about, the thing that made his parents actually kick him out of his house, isn’t good enough. Nothing scared him more than that.

Yoongi pushed back from his desk again. The symbolic weight of this project had taken its toll on him over the past few weeks, causing tight knots to form in his shoulders and migraines to drill into the space between his eyes until pain killers and alcohol couldn’t even dull the ache. Maybe he really did need to get some rest. Ah, but he was so close. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Just a few more hours. Another day maybe. Just a little bit longer and it would be finished. And then the painstakingly long wait for their reply.

With an anxiety filled sigh, he grabbed the apple from Jungkook out of the bowl and took a bite.

*

Just as he thought, the song took him another two days to complete. Two more sleep and food deprived, caffeine fueled days. By the time he submitted his song, he felt ready to sleep for the next three months. Instead, that night while he was tossing and turning in bed, his phone screen lit up with an email. He reached over for it, squinting at the bright screen in the darkness. His heavy eyes popped open when he saw the name of the sender and he sat bolt upright. His heart pounded as he clicked on the email. His hands shook and he dropped his phone, scrambling to pick it up so he could finally find out if his effort had been for nothing. Then he opened the email with bated breath and his eyes roved over the first line of the email.

Mr. Min,

We were impressed with your song and…

Yoongi read the whole email several times before letting the meaning of the words completely sink in. He’d made it. He’d made it? Yoongi got to his feet in one fluid motion.

“I made it?”

Immediately, he wanted to run into the living room where Jungkook was sleeping soundly and jump up and down on him, screaming until the maknae was celebrating with him. He wanted to call the others. He wanted to share the good news. But…

What about Jungkook? What would the kid do if Yoongi up and moved to the big city? Of course he’d want to come with him. To drop out of school, leave his foster family, leave the rest of the guys behind to follow him. No, Yoongi couldn’t let him do that. His whole life was here. He needed to graduate. He needed to go to college. Make something of himself. Get out of this perpetual life of suck he was currently in. But could Yoongi leave him behind? Sure, Jungkook needed him, needed his couch, needed the security of having somewhere and someone that actually cared about him as a person instead of as a means to a paycheck from the government. But Yoongi kind of needed him too. It was nice having someone that cared about his well-being when that was usually the furthest thing from his own mind. Jungkook was always asking him if he’d slept, if he’d eaten, if he’d showered, recently.

Jungkook was the one to keep him connected to the rest of the guys most of the time. He would have become a hermit by now if the kid wasn’t constantly inviting them over to hang out. It wasn’t that Yoongi didn’t like having them over. It wasn’t like he didn’t value their friendship. He could just so easily get so wrapped up in a project that he’d be glued to his computer for weeks. Jungkook kept him grounded. Kept him in this world instead of in his head all the time.

But this was Yoongi’s dream. This was the validation he’d been denied by his parents. The validation he needed. But the question was, what did he need more?

*

Yoongi slumped on the farthest cushion on the couch from Jungkook, empty glass in his hand. He’d been sitting there for a while, rolling the last bit of his bitter drink around in the bottom of the glass and trying to figure out how he could possibly break the news to Jungkook that he’d be leaving for Seoul the next day.

He hadn’t told anyone about the job offer, or rather the prospective job offer. There hadn’t actually been a contract signed but Yoongi had a very good feeling that there’d be one waiting for him once he got there. He’d been in contact with the label since that first fateful email a week before. They’d sent him several files to tweak and send back. Just more tests of his producing capabilities. They seemed impressed.

*

This party was in celebration of Taehyung coming back to them—not that they ever needed a reason to get together. He’d ended up getting picked up by the police a week before a few cities over and when he tried calling Namjoon, he got an automated message saying the boy’s service had been disconnected. Much to Namjoon’s dismay and the other guys insistence, he’d had been couch surfing for the past month while he looked for a job. Since he hadn’t been able to find one, he couldn’t pay his bill and his phone was disconnected.

Luckily, Taehyung’s next phone call had been to Jin, who had managed to persuade his lawyer father to bail the boy out and represent him in his upcoming trial. Of course, Jin had to threaten to drop out of college to get his parents to comply but they finally did much to his relief. He’d felt sick with guilt for weeks after having to turn Namjoon and Taehyung away that night they showed up at his door. He’d wanted nothing more than to invite them both in and promise the younger boys that everything was going to be okay. But what could have happened if they were caught under his roof? What would have become of his father’s reputation? Of his schooling?  Even now with Taehyung in his care and out of jail, he couldn’t get rid of the guilt that still hung over his head. And now he stood in Yoongi’s kitchen, slumped against the counter, nursing his own drink.

Namjoon was having his own pity party in a different corner. The boy had confided in Yoongi a lot over the past month. Yoongi had never seen him so worked up and simultaneously so low before. His self-appointed purpose in life for so long had been as the support for his friends. As a guardian for Taehyung. And now he’d failed him. Namjoon had become even more of a wreck after waking up to find his phone had been disconnected and that Taehyung had tried calling him from jail.

“I wasn’t there when he needed me the most, hyung,” he’d said to Yoongi one night, tears slipping down his cheeks. “What kind of friend am I?”

*

Even with this being a party, no one seemed to be in a celebratory mood. While the three oldest brooded in their respective places, and Hoseok tried not to pass out from exhaustion on an arm chair, the three youngest clung to each other on the other side of the couch. The last couple of months had been traumatizing for Taehyung. From killing his father, to wandering around a strange city, to getting arrested and having to spend several nights in a jail cell not knowing his fate, it had all been too much.

When Jin and Jin’s father had gone to pick him up from the police station, he’d looked like a completely different person. His skin was pale and pulled taut over his bones, more prominent since he hadn’t eaten much while on the run. He hadn’t said a word to Jin and only uttered a “thank you” to Mr. Kim. His face had been completely blank and he could barely make eye contact with his oldest friend. The boy had seemed like nothing more than a shell of his former self. He warmed up a bit over the following weeks, opening up just barely, talking a little more, filling back out, and much to the others’ relief, color began to return to his skin again. But that haunting look in his eyes was still there. Who knew if it would ever go away?

With one of his supports no longer by his side at school all day, Jimin had started to notice the menacing looks again from Jiho and his friends. After being ambushed a couple months back, his anxiety had been through the roof, his nerves on edge all day every day. It was exhausting. Especially keeping up a positive front for Jungkook. The poor kid was trying so hard to be there for Jimin but the original idea had been for either he or Taehyung to be in all of Jimin’s classes which left the boy vulnerable at times. Jiho was smart. He’d never touch Jimin in school but he could intimidate him which was almost worse. It made Jimin flinch at every little thing. Made him hesitate before turning corners. Made him shrink into Jungkook causing them to stumble over each other, get tangled up. Jungkook couldn’t miss a single day, couldn’t rest for a single moment if it meant Jimin being without his protection.

The three of them looked exhausted. Looked defeated there slumped on the couch with controllers in their hands as they played some mindless video game on Yoongi’s little tv. Yoongi could see just how affected they’d each become by everything over the past couple of months. The bags under their eyes. The way they leaned into each other as if making sure they were really there. The way Jimin’s leg constantly touched Taehyung’s as if to say, “It's okay. Don’t worry about me,” while his other shoulder touched Jungkook’s as if to say, “please don’t leave me.”

That was it. Yoongi had to break the news to Jungkook. He couldn’t let him come with him. Jimin needed Jungkook. Hoseok needed Jimin. Taehyung needed Jin. Namjoon needed Taehyung. The group needed to stay together. At least the rest of them. They’d be fine without Yoongi. They’d find another place to hang out. Everything would be fine. But how to break the news to the youngest maknae? Yoongi looked down at his empty glass. Maybe a bit more liquid courage would help. He felt too conflicted right now. Too guilty still.

With a groan, he got up off the couch and he made his way to the kitchen. He was already feeling pretty out of it—the fact that he hadn’t slept well for over a week was definitely part of it. Seeing Jin there blocking the alcohol made anger flare up in the pit of his stomach. Sure the boy had eventually helped Taehyung by bailing him out of jail but the kid wouldn’t have been there in the first place if Jin hadn’t turned him away.

“You’re standing in front of the booze,” Yoongi uttered. The only reason Jin was there was because he’d brought Taehyung, and because—despite the fact that Yoongi kind of hated him right now—he was still part of the group.

Jin didn’t say anything, instead just stepped to the side so Yoongi could grab the half empty bottle of whiskey. He didn’t even bother pouring more into his cup, just brought the mouth of the bottle to his lips and tossed his head back. The alcohol burned its way down his throat, liquid fire pooling in his belly until he finally had to stop so he could take a breath. Then he lowered his head again, his unfocused eyes landing on Jin.

“You know what my problem is with you?” he asked as he jabbed a finger into the older boy’s face.

Completely taken off guard, Jin tried to step back but was already flush against the counter and cupboards. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me that crap, hyung,” Yoongi snarled. The energy of the whole room suddenly shifted as the others stopped what they were doing to watch. “Namjoon told me everything,” Yoongi continued. “You think you can just abandon your brother when he needs you the most and then just swoop in like some hero and save the day?” Jin’s eyes darted to the others in the room and he swallowed hard. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Yoongi asked, leaning in close. “You’re really just over here flaunting your silver spoon over all of our heads. Making everyone else feel like absolute crap while you’re off getting some fancy degree. Living in your fancy dorms. Coming home to your fancy house. You know, some of us actually have to work hard to get where we want to go? Most of us have to work hard just to get by. And even then, we still fail.” Yoongi let out a pathetic chuckle and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. “Everything just comes so easy for you, doesn’t it?”

“Yoongi—”

“Why do you even still hang out with us? Why would you want to be around losers like us all the time? Huh? Do you like just holding what we’ll never have over our heads? Is that it? Does it make you feel better seeing how crappy our lives are, Seokjin?”

A hand clamped down on Yoongi’s shoulder and pulled him away from Jin. “That’s enough, hyung,” Jungkook said in his ear.

Yoongi spun around to face him. Over the years they’d known each other, Yoongi had watched Jungkook surpass him in height and stature. He was taller, broader, stronger. The boy was a fighter. A survivor. He’d make it just fine without Yoongi.

“Everyone, get out,” Yoongi said at last and took another swig from the bottle in his hand.

No one moved or said anything, none of them really sure what to do.

“I said out!” Yoongi’s voice cracked on the last word as he raised his voice. “Now!”

The others leapt into action then. Jin slipped out from behind Yoongi and pulled his truck keys from his pocket as he made his way toward the door. At the sight of their ride leaving, Taehyung and Jimin dropped their controllers on the coffee table and hurried after him, uttering quick goodbyes to Jungkook as they passed him. Hoseok and Namjoon left silently as well, Namjoon’s gaze holding Yoongi’s as he made his way past him. Hoseok was too tired to even care about the outburst. He hadn’t really wanted to be there anyway and now he was just looking forward to going home and sleeping. The two left, pulling the heavy metal door shut behind them and at last it was just Yoongi and Jungkook left in the silence.

Yoongi let out a heavy sigh as he placed the whiskey bottle back on the counter then pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. His head was pounding and his throat burned and he just wanted to collapse into his bed. This whole night had been a complete wreck. He wanted nothing more than to just be alone so he could try and figure everything out. But when he opened his eyes again, he saw Jungkook still standing there with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Yoongi sighed again.

“Go home, Kook,” he said finally, raking his fingers back through his hair.

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “What?”

The anguish that had been haunting him every night for the past week reawakened in Yoongi’s gut and he clenched his fists down at his sides to keep his composure from cracking. “I said, go home,” he repeated. “I’m not your parent. I can’t take care of you. You have a family. You have a home. Go there.”

He wanted so badly to take Jungkook with him to Seoul. He wanted to protect the boy from the world. He wanted to be his home. To be his family. To be there. But he knew he couldn’t and he could feel himself already starting to break apart. It’s what’s best for him. You can’t protect him. You have to let him go.

He wanted nothing more in this life than to not be the cause of the hurt expression on Jungkook’s face. “But hyung—”

“Just get out!” Yoongi screamed and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want you anymore!”

Jungkook’s breath hitched and suddenly he was silent. Yoongi didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to meet his eyes. But finally he did. And what he saw shattered him completely. The boy’s eyes were glassy, his bottom lip pulled into his mouth. He wore the same dejected expression as the first time he’d run away from home and ended up at Yoongi’s. He’d told him that he’d gotten in a fight with his foster dad. That the man had called him worthless, nothing more than a means to a paycheck. That the minute he turned eighteen, he was out of there. Yoongi had pulled him in. Let him cry against him. Squeezed him tight and told him he’d never feel unwanted again…

Finally, Jungkook spoke. “You don’t want me?”

Yoongi let out a stuttering breath. “You heard me.” Let him go. Let him go. Let him go. He’ll be alright. He can make it on his own. “I’ve had to give up a lot for you. I’ve had to put my dreams on hold. My future on hold so you’d have a place to stay and someone to take care of you. You’ve been holding me back long enough. You’re not a kid anymore. You need to start taking care of yourself. I’ve done my job. Now you need to start doing yours.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, eyes drilling so intensely into Yoongi’s that at last the older boy had to look up at the ceiling. Please, just leave. Please, just go and don’t say anything.

“You’re just drunk, hyung,” Jungkook finally said and stepped forward to place his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders. “You’re just stressed out and you need to sleep it off.” Then he started guiding Yoongi to his bedroom.

But Yoongi pushed him away. “I don’t just need sleep,” he growled and turned to face the younger boy again. “I said what I said and I meant it.” Then he shoved Jungkook hard, causing him to stumble back toward the door. “Go home, Jungkook.” He shoved him again. “Go home and don’t come back here.” Again. “You don’t belong here, anymore.”

“Stop shoving me, hyung,” Jungkook snapped and straightened up to his full height. The kid was massive compared to Yoongi and infinitely more intimidating. Yoongi swallowed hard but kept his expression the same. This was for the kid’s own good.

“Then grow up, Jungkook,” he barked. “Stop being some weak little child. Stop depending on everyone else. Stop expecting everyone to take care of you and just man up.”

This set something off in the boy. In one quick motion, Jungkook stepped forward and gripped the front of Yoongi’s shirt in his fists. Fire burned in his eyes and Yoongi could feel the fear rushing through his veins like ice water.

“You want to hit me, Kook?” he asked. “Then hit me.”

With a shake of his head, Jungkook let Yoongi go, dropping him back onto his feet, and he stumbled backward. A pathetic chuckle bubbled up from his throat and he shook his head. “Not even man enough to do that.”

Suddenly, Yoongi was wrenched forward again by his collar and he felt Jungkook’s fist connect with his cheek. The force knocked him to the ground and he landed hard on his hands and knees. His mouth filled with the bitter taste of iron and when he brought his hand up to swipe at his lip, it came away streaked with blood.

“I am a man,” Jungkook said looking down at him. Then without another word, he went over, pushed the door open and glanced back one more time to lock eyes with the boy that had basically raised him. With that, he slipped out, shutting the door behind him.

Yoongi exhaled heavily as he let his head fall back against the floor. His head was still spinning and his face stung and he could feel a trickle of blood dripping down from the corner of his mouth. He’d never felt worse in his entire life. The hangover the next day was going to suck but not as much as the hole in his chest would after what he’d just done. The look of betrayal on Jungkook’s face would haunt him forever.

Already, feeling a bit soberer now, he could feel the guilt and regret flooding his chest making it harder to breathe. No. He couldn’t do that to himself. This was for the best. He’d already decided that when he took the job. He just wished things could have ended differently. Just wished he could come back once in a while to see everyone. Have them come visit him. But not anymore. Not after everything that happened that night.

With a groan, Yoongi rolled over and got to his feet. He was supposed to head out in the morning and he still had to pack everything up. All he wanted to do was sleep, but it looked like, once again, this was going to be another exhaustive night.

[monsterfluffandstuff]

WLW Mystery Monster Wildcard(Tera) Part 1

Part one is a lot of fluff and exposition and some heavy petting. And boy is it long. Part two will hopefully be coming soon, if enough people like Max and Tera. This one takes place in Hekkadia so it helps set up some of the other stories I’ve had in my unfinished folder for literally years now.

This is a free mystery monster wildcard so we will reveal what she is in part two, and there will be some smut if I have anything to say about it. Happy reading, and remember tips and/or feedback will tell me how much you guys want to see a part two. (If you do decide to tip on kofi or paypal because of this, put that in with your tip so I know to count it toward part two).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been years since you stepped foot in Hekkadia. Your parents had brought you here when you were younger, on a vacation. The town had been a sweet place, a bit touristy in summer, it really tried to cash in on its dark and storied history. There was a local farmers market…near the occult bookstore. The local bakery was small but everything was well made, and it was right across from the old timey apothecary. Mostly things like this were a fun nod to history, something spooky for the out of towners.

 There were also caves to be toured, hiking trails to be taken, a small beach to swim at, and more. It was perfectly located and it seemed mostly just like any other tourist trap town. However, there were things that you saw out of the corner of your eye. Places you had sworn you remembered but were not mentioned online, and you could never find them again in real life.  There was something distinctly other about this town, it wasn’t the spooky ghost tours or the witch trial re-enactments. There was something, deeper, unspoken, that drew you back.

 It had drawn your parents too and it resulted in taking seven vacations there in as many years. An eighth had been planned but, well, things have a way of going off the rails when you least expect it. So did your parents, to put it bluntly. You were at home when you heard the news. You were sitting alone, writing a report, a month from high school graduation and three months from your eighteenth birthday. The emergency bulletin flashed across the screen of the TV you were using as background noise. Pictures of a train being attended by emergency responders played in a terrifying slideshow. That’s when your phone started to scream at you.

 That moment stretched out so far in front of you, the phone seemed to ring forever. You had been holding your breath without realizing it, so you let it out and you answered.

 The service was beautiful, your parents had pre-paid so you didn’t have to worry about planning or fundraising. They had always thought ahead, a habit you had never perfected. A few tweaks were made, as they had not planned to be taking their leave simultaneously, but you made sure that what was important to them remained intact.

 You glanced at the mini urn in your passenger seat, a bit of the both of them. They had promised this trip to you, and you were going to see it through. They’d been gone 5 years, this past May. You were 22 soon to be 23 and you had tried each year to make the trip, always in the fall. But you couldn’t. It was a hard thing to do. Going there, alone, meant they were really gone. This was a fact you had been working to accept. You’d been in therapy for about a year now, because of this, and other traumatic events. Therapy, you thought, was what had finally given you that little push to come back.

 Now it felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff and that little push might just send you over. You were afraid, but the closer you got, the stronger the pull. After five hours on the road (two of which were spent on pit stops to deal with the feeling of impending doom you felt) around about one P.M, you pulled into a parking spot in front of a familiar inn. It was painted Pastel blue with dark grey trim, and the sight of it made you feel more at ease.

 You lugged your suitcase inside and waited at the front desk, for the old man who ran the inn. When he peeked out from behind the counter, you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face.

 “Hello, Ma’am. How can I help you today?”

“Well, I have a reservation, it should be under Ludlow.”

 He scanned the computer screen for your name and it took all of five seconds for him to recognize it.

 “Ludlow…Max? My stars! Little Max, we haven’t seen you around here in, oh three years now. It’s nice to see you didn’t forget about us.”

“Oh I could never forget about you Mr. McShane.”

 Mr. Evan McShane calling you “little” had always made you laugh just a bit. You had been taller than Mr. McShane since you were twelve, and your weight didn’t exactly fit into that description either. Then you thought of your parents and you smiled, a bit nervous. You knew you would have to tell him, and several others. The story you had practiced was condensed for convenience, prepared to be repeated over and over.

 “I was otherwise engaged, you could say. I always planned on coming back, it just took a while.”

“Ah, well, you’re here now, that’s what matters. I don’t s’pose your Ma and Pa are waiting in the car.”

 You looked down and brought the urn into view.

 “No, they are-“you paused

“Right here with you.” He finished.

“T’would have been nice to see them again, they were lovely and pleasant, but I’m happy we have you with us.”

 He didn’t say he was sorry, and that made you happy. You had gotten so tired of that word. It was no ones fault they were gone. You knew they all meant well, but three years of knee-jerk apologies had worn you out.

 “Alright then, well Ms. Ludlow, you’ve booked at the best time of year. You get your pick of the rooms.”

“Really? How so?”

“Well we’ve got two other reservations today, both of our single rooms booked, and all the others are empty, so as I see it, you’ve got first pick. I’ll even let you have the double suite, if you keep it hush hush”

 McShane gave and wry smile as you pondered over the idea of having the suite to yourself.

 “I’ll take it, and I’ll keep it under my hat.”

 He met you at the end of the counter and led you up to your room. It was two flights up and at the end of the hallway. For an Inn that seemed so small from the outside, it was still very roomy. You remember thinking this was because you had been so young upon first coming here, but as you got older the effect remained.

 He opened the door for you and handed you your key. They still used real keys, heavy brass ones, hard to lose.

 You walked inside, wheeling your luggage with your left hand, your parents nestled in your cardigan pocket.

 “Oh wow, It’s so big…I can’t believe it fits in the building. That bed looks so comfy, I might just try it out for a nap.”

“I assure you it is a plush terrible thing, calls you back to it when you are desperately needing to be somewhere on time. I have the same one in my room, smaller of course. And you’ll notice we have television in all the rooms now. A necessary evil, I suppose.”

 He gave a look of distaste, tempered by time. He never had liked certain modern luxuries. He wanted people to go out and enjoy the town, not just conduct business as usual from the inn.

 “I haven’t seen that look since you finally got Wi-Fi. Don’t worry, I doubt I’ll be watching much of anything. I’ve been away too long to be distracted by syndicated programming.”

 “Good to hear, how long are you staying, dear?”

“However long I need to, if that suits you. I’ve booked one week, but I figure I’ll play it by ear, week to week, might even stay with Toddie for a bit. I’ve missed it here and I won’t let myself be pulled away before I’m ready.”

“Just give the word and I’ll extend the booking, it will be nice to have a familiar face around again.”

He turned away and then looked back.

“Now I’ll be getting back downstairs to wait for the other two guests, enjoy you nap, and be sure to check out your attached room.”

 He practically dashed away as if he knew you’d raise hell. And damn you would have. A few of the rooms had a microwave and a mini-fridge. Some also had a hotplate, on request. This one, however, had a small but well equipped kitchenette, in addition to a massive tub in the bathroom. Suite was not a misnomer. It was divine. You would wring his neck for letting you have it for so little.

 You felt yourself slouch and sigh, the wringing would have to wait. You were exhausted from the emotionally taxing trip, not to mention the distinct lack of sleep the night before.

 You shirked off your cardigan, and changed into some shorts before getting cuddled up in bed. You did switch on the T.V for some background, and you set your alarm for two hours. No use sleeping the day away.

 As you drifted off you felt this odd comfort. You felt safe, at home.

  You woke to your phone yelling at you. Caller I.D said it was someone you’d been avoiding like the plague. You were thankful though as you seemed to have slept through your alarms.

 “Hey uncle.”

“Hey Max, what’s shakin’ bacon?”

 Your uncle, lovely as he was, was a worrier in the highest regard. You’d been thick as thieves growing up, he’d been more like a cousin, really, considering he was hardly ten years older than you. Ever since your parents died, however, he had taken it upon himself to act a touch more paternal.

 He had taken a leave of absence from work, and come to stay with you, insisting on trying to maintain some sense of normalcy and routine in your life. Routine typically didn’t involve stun guns, pepper spray, and check in calls, but he was so worried about something happening. You humored him, even after you turned eighteen.

 He lived in Hekkadia full time, having moved there not long before your last trip there. Seeing him would be a highlight of your stay, but you wanted some alone time before being thrust into the spotlight. You knew he would probably have arranged some sort of welcome party, or maybe he just put an announcement in the paper. It was just how he was, and you loved him, but you needed to take things slow. In fact, that was part of the reason you’d elected to stay at McShanes inn, instead of Uncle Todds.

 “Nothing much Toddie, just took a nap after getting checked in. Probably going to go on a walk soon, maybe swing by the bookstore and see if Lorna remembers me.”

 You heard him scoff on the other end, covered by a fake cough.

 “Of course, she remembers you dear, in fact she’s been asking after you. I’ve kept it very hush hush that you were coming back. I know you don’t want to be bombarded.”

 An errant smile appeared, sometimes Toddie did listen.

 “However…”

 You groaned internally, yes, sometimes.

 “I did hint you’d be back soon, and someone else was quite keen to hear of your possible return.”

 “Who? Todd Verne Ludlow, what did you do.”

 “Calm down, and don’t you dare use that name, I’ve successfully avoided hearing it for almost a year now.” He said with a small laugh.

“It was only Tera. She’s missed you, after all you used to spend so much time together when you were here. And she said you’d been distant lately. She’s been worried.”

 Tera, she had been your best friend in Hekkadia. After a time, around fifteen, you realized you saw her as more than just a friend. At that awkward age you’d never been able to muster up the courage to tell her, especially seeing as she was two years your senior. Now two years would be no big deal, but back then it was a gap too large to ford. You had been planning on telling her when you went up last, but life happened, death happened, and your emotions had been hard to get a read on ever since.

 “Oh…Tera…um…I- “

“Just go see her when you can, she still works with Lorna at the bookstore, though that old place has changed a bit, I can tell you. Maybe you can have a coffee and ask her how she’s been. Just don’t ask about her love life, she’s a little tired of talking about it right now.”

 You did keep in contact to some extent, but you had been busy figuring out how to be an adult, and she had been busy helping Lorna run the bookstore and finishing up her bachelor’s in business. You must have missed the love life update, since you hadn’t talked much these last few months. Bad breakup? Or maybe something had become serious. An engagement? You had always assumed she was straight anyway, and it had been years, a schoolgirl crush wouldn’t last so long. So, imagine your surprise when the blow to the chest still came. It felt like a piece of you was ripped away. And it hurt.

 “Yeah, uh, Toddie, I’ll head over there today, um, do you want to meet me- “

 “Max, we both know you don’t want more witnesses to what you have to say, and this old man will only cramp your style. How about we meet up for dinner later? My treat.”

 You sighed, a bit relieved. What ever happened in the next few hours, good food would be necessary to soften the blow of what you felt was inevitable.

 “Sounds great, I’ll see you later then, Love you… Verne”

 You hung up fast, almost laughing at the swearing on the other end.

  Todd was right, the bookstore had changed, chiefly in that it was now a café as well. They must have expanded into what used to be a chain coffee joint next door. It was very open, they’d obviously knocked down the dividing wall. And the amalgam was now known as “Witches brew”.

 “Now I see what he meant about grabbing a coffee.”

 “Max!!!!”

 You heard Lorna over the noise of beans being ground, and saw her rushing towards you, apron strings whipping behind her, like a flag in a strong wind. The hug you received was like a vice and you patted her back, smiling at the chatty brunette.

 “Oh, dear Maxie, I wondered when we’d be seeing you again. We’ve missed you so much. I keep telling Toddie to get you to come by, and finally here you are. Oh, we are so happy, aren’t we, T?”

 “Indeed, we are.”

 You heard Tera behind you and your face went red, you felt a chill run down your spine. As Lorna released you, you turned to Tera and your heart jumped into your throat.

 ‘Schoolgirl crush, my ass.’

 Her hair was inky black and plaited into pigtails, her nose was pierced now, and she wore the glasses she had so despised when you were younger.

 “Tera, it’s so good to see you, I’m sorry I haven’t exactly consistent with my messages, I- “

 “Save it, we can talk about all that in a minute, first let’s get caffeinated.”

 You silently thanked her that she wouldn’t make you have this conversation in front of Lorna.

  Ten minutes later and you were seated in the back of the café, far from the dismal gathering of high school kids reading Hamlet at the tables by the bookstore.

 “So, Max, how long have you been in town?”

 You took a healthy gulp of a frappe and began to reply when the brain freeze hit you.

 “Ah…fuck that smarts…”

 Tera snorted as you floundered.

 “Try pressing your thumb to the roof of your mouth.”

 You did, and it was over in moments.

 “Thanks, uh…wow I’m so suave, aren’t I?”

 “Nah…but I’d say you were cool.”

She smirked and sipped some kind of concoction that smelled like oranges and chocolate, you made a mental note to try that next time.

 “Well I just got into town today, you guys are my first stop after I dropped my stuff off.”

 “Oh yay, so I’m still your favorite?”

 ‘You have no idea’ You thought, your face starting to heat up again.

 “I mean…yeah- of course, I just…I missed you… you guys a lot.”

 Her face seemed to fall at “you guys” but maybe you were just imagining it, she did seem tired after all.

 “Well I’m glad you stopped by, we’ll have to hang out soon. If there isn’t anything else, I have to clock in and- “

 She was suddenly in a hurry to be anywhere else but as she got up, you did too, and you took her hand before she could leave.

 “Wait, Tera. There is something else, a lot of something else.”

 This was it, it needed to happen, if you didn’t do it now, you’d never manage it.

 She looked back at you just before you stood up on tip toes and kissed her cheek. It was chaste and maybe juvenile, but you’d never kissed someone you liked this much before, hell, you’d never liked someone this much before.

 She looked shocked and for a moment you thought you had supremely fucked up. That is, until she wrapped both arms around you and kissed you square on the lips. It was quick, but sweet and she looked down at you after.

 “I didn’t misread that right?”

 You shook your head so fast your beanie almost went flying. You didn’t trust your mouth to do much of anything else at this point.

 “Awesome because I’ve been waiting to do that for a long time.”

  Lorna saw what happened and threw a wolf whistle your way, right before she told Tera that she could handle the shop without help today. The young man working the bookstore counter looked a little sad, but still wished you both a good afternoon on the way out.

 You walked and walked, holding hands, mostly silent until you got to the park and found an empty bench. You sat, and she immediately decided your lap was pillow material. After acclimating to having her so close, you worked up the courage to ask her what you’d been avoiding.

 “So how long?”

 “You first, killer, you made the first move.”

 You huffed and moved a few loose strands away from your face.

 “Remember that summer I got a nose bleed when we went to the beach?”

 “Yeah, you soaked a hand towel and we almost took you to the hospital, we were so fuckin worried- wait.

No… you are such a fucking anime character.”

 “Hey, can you blame me? I was some girl who was still figuring things out and then you and your beautiful self, ambushed me and I was never the same. Besides I’ve always had a very delicate nasal membrane.”

 Exaggerating the last part, you stuck your nose up in the air and sniffed, trying to make her laugh.

 She smiled and kissed your palm, playing with your hand.

 “Your turn, bombshell, when did you realize you liked me?”

 She looked a little nervous, an expression that her face seemed unaccustomed to.

 “Well I think I’ve had a crush on you since that sleep over when we watched the princess bride. And I annoyed the hell out of you by only answering with “as you wish” and you pinned me down to try to tickle me and I just sort of realized I really liked being that close to you.”

 “Aww you are so cute when you blush.”

 She nudged you with her shoulder.

 “Cut it out, I’m not cute, I am fierce and powerful.”

 “You can be all three.”

 She smiled at you.

 “Max, I’m being serious now. I really didn’t want to admit it. I felt a little weird, and I had a boyfriend back then. I figured it was just one of those things. But then, it never went away. I’ve tried dating again since me and Patrick broke up, one of them got a bit serious but ended really, quite badly. None of them seemed to be what I was looking for.”

 Patrick had been a very long term high school sweetheart. He’d been nice enough, and he must have had some trick up his sleeve to have held onto Tera for three years. This other one however, you didn’t know about, maybe you’d ask Lorna, see if there was anyone you needed to put the fear of gods into

 You fiddled with one of her braids and didn’t know how to respond. She looked up at you, with a sad smile.

“None of them were you.”

 You brought her face up to yours and took off her glasses before you kissed her, properly this time. Your noses bumped, and you felt her smile. She repositioned herself, sitting in your lap, and wove a hand into your hair. This proper kiss may have turned into a snog at some point. When she opened her mouth, you opened yours and she sucked on your tongue while her other nails ghosted down your back, leaving trails of prickly warmth. You felt yourself getting wet, arousal was not a new feeling, but the intensity was mind-blowing. She tasted like oranges and spiced chocolate and you never wanted to let go. You got bold and nipped at her lip after she relinquished your tongue and you heard a quiet little whimper that made you want to travel further down. You pulled away only to lavish kisses on her throat and the crook of her neck.

 It was then that you remembered where you were. A dog barking in the distance clued you in. You were both a little breathless and you were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

 “Well, if you’ll excuse how selfish this sounds, I’m glad none of them were me.”

She smiled and kissed your forehead, then the smile faded, and she began to worry a strand of your hair.

 “Max there is one more big revelation that needs to be had, but I don’t want to ruin today.”

 “Tera, unless this is your telling me that you have a husband and three children, I’m sure I will take it just fine.”

 She looked unsure.

“Okay…but could it maybe wait till tonight. We could get together, somewhere…private?”

 You took the worrying hand and kissed the tip of each finger.

 “How about you join me and Todd for dinner tonight, and then I’ll take you to the nicest suite in town, for dessert?”

She thought for a few moments, and then nodded, finally meeting your eyes.

“That sounds perfect. I take it you aren’t staying with Toddie.”

“Not tonight, at least.”

 She gave a devilish little smile and tugged your hair ever so lightly. 

“So, I can be as loud as I want?”

Your face turned several shades of strawberry and you rested your head on her shoulder.

“You’re gonna kill me talking like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What do we think? are they worth a part 2 (or even more) I run on feedback and tips so tell me what you thought.

[imagining-supernatural]

Avenging Angel: Part 28

Summary: You’ve spent the last five years on a dangerous mission to solve the crime that wrongly imprisoned your father. When the Winchesters find you half-frozen on the side of a mountain, they make it their own mission to save your life and make sure you stay alive. But after five years of uncovering horribly dark secrets, you’ve learned not to trust anyone. Especially people who seem like they have good intentions.

Word Count: 1619

Warnings: None

A/N: So... I realized that it’s literally been a week since I’ve updated this series. Seven whole days. I’ve just been so caught up in drabbles and the music that I love that I completely pushed this to the side which is so weird for me. Usually I completely obsess over a series and do nothing but write in that series until it’s done. Anyway... sorry about the long wait!

A/N.2: The links won’t work on this part. All of the links are on my series masterlist < https://imagining-supernatural.tumblr.com/post/158422944355/avenging-angel-masterlist >

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7 – Part 8 -- Part 9 -- Part 10 -- Part 11 -- Part 12 -- Part 13 -- Part 14 -- Part 15 -- Part 16 -- Part 17 -- Part 18 -- Part 19 -- Part 20 -- Part 21 -- Part 22 -- Part 23 -- Part 24 -- Part 25 -- Part 26 --  Part 27

“She came here of her own free will,” George Covington hissed into his phone.

You slowed your breathing and plastered yourself against the wall to avoid being caught. He was supposed to be at his meeting for another hour, which should have given you plenty of time to sneak into his office, clone his hard drive, and get back to safety. Yet here you were, hiding in an attached room and hoping that he didn’t come in.

“Well, they’re both adults. I won’t do anything to change their minds.” There was a beat of silence while he listened to the person on the other side. “And he’s my son! I don’t like this any more than you do but—don’t you cut me off! Yes, I benefit from this too, but if you would learn how to control her then we wouldn’t even be having this conversation in the first place.”

Oh how you wanted to storm out and demand he explain everything. Your brain was screaming that this conversation had to do with you, but none of it was making sense.

“You’re weak. You always have been. That’s why your wife left you. You weren’t man enough for her anymore.”

Silence invaded the room and you chanced a peek around the corner to see what was going on. George was staring at his phone in a sort of stunned haze. You guessed that the person on the other line had hung up on him. CEO George Covington probably wasn’t used to people hanging up on him.

After a moment more of this shocked silence, he shook himself from the daze and dialed another number. “We need to find her. Solidify your plan and present it to the board at the next meeting.”

As soon as that call was finished, George left his office, and you set to work on your original mission: cloning his hard drive.

But as you waited for the hard drive to information to transfer, you had a few minutes to mull over that conversation. Why did it feel like it was important to you? That it was about you? Maybe you were just getting too paranoid. Being around Covingtons day and night was wearing on you. Sneaking around was getting easier, lying to and manipulating everyone was practically second nature now, and you never felt like you could relax. You never feel all the way safe.

Each day under the Covington umbrella brought you closer to the truth about your parents. A truth you weren’t sure you wanted to know anymore.

*****

*****

“I want the answers, but I don’t want to go alone.”

“But the only way he’ll give you the answers is if you go alone,” Dean pointed out, thinking out loud more than trying to convince you. “I don’t like it.”

“None of us like it,” Sam grumbled.

You took Dean’s beer from his hand and downed a mouthful, ignoring his protests. It was barely noon, and you were already turning to the bottle to deal with life. “Well, we have a week to figure out another plan.”

Seven days. You needed to start this week off on the right foot if you were going to be able to come up with a good plan. Returning Dean’s beer to his hand, you headed for the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a real shower now.”

Showers tended to make the world seem better. They were like steamy bandaids. Sure, the world still sucked, but once that shower curtain was closed, you couldn’t see the sucky part.

However, when you turned on the water and stepped into the hot stream, you were still tense. Everything that had happened, from a Covington interrupting your perfect morning-after with Sam to your mother rejecting you, to Braxton dropping the sister-bomb seemed intent on staying in your knotted muscles.

The bathroom door creaked open and you peeked out of the curtain to see Sam shut the door behind him and strip off his shirt.

“It’s just me.”

“You coming in?”

Once all of his clothes were on the floor, he stepped into the tub and pulled you into his arms. “Yeah. You looked like you needed a hug.”

Your first instinct was to ask him to leave and tell him that you just wanted some time alone to process everything, but you quickly put that reaction in check. You weren’t alone anymore. You had people around you who could handle themselves and knew everything that you did. You didn’t have to go through this on your own.

So you wrapped your arms around his muscular back and leaned into his comfort. You had to break the ice and start talking about something, but nothing came to mind at first. You were kind of done talking about family drama, so your mom and sister was out. Talking about George would just lead to talking about Braxton which would mean talking about your supposed sister, so George wasn’t an option.

“I’m getting my car back,” you finally said, figuring this was a safe topic.

“Yeah, and $100,000.” Sam eased back and looked at you with impressed eyes. “You never told me you were such a good negotiator. How did you manage to convince George Covington to give you that much cash?”

“It’s chump change to him and he wants the research from me. As long as I keep that away from him, I have a bargaining chip.”

Sam pressed forward until he was standing under the spray of the shower as well. “I wonder what that would be like. To be rich.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. At least, rich on Covington money isn’t good. It feels… wrong.”

“Still.” Sam shrugged, ending that strain of conversation. He made a circular motion with his finger. “Turn around. I’m gonna wash your hair.”

“You’re gonna wash my hair? Really?”

An adorable pink tint stained his cheeks, but he tried not to act embarrassed. “Well, if you don’t want me to—“

“No, no. Go ahead. And don’t forget to dig in deep for a good scalp massage.”

You’d never showered with someone else. Throughout your few relationships in your life, you always found yourself showering alone. It hadn’t really crossed your mind that there was any other way. Sure, sometimes you thought about shower sex, but the logistics of that just didn’t make it seem worth it. Slippery, small space, and limited time until the hot water ran out.

And showering with someone else just to shower? It seemed more efficient to just do it alone. But with Sam’s fingers digging into your scalp and making your skin tingle, you realized just how wrong you’d been. You closed your eyes and slowly relaxed as his hands moved from your head to your neck and shoulders and down to your back, massaging away all of the tension that your breakfast meeting had brought.

Somehow when it was just you and Sam, the problems of the world seemed so very far away.

All too soon, the brief respite in the shower ended and you found yourself dried off, fully clothed, and sitting in front of a computer once again. Your fingers flew over the keys as you tried to figure out what you could hack to get the information you wanted. But three days passed and none of you could dig up anything about a possible sister, whoever Braxton could be working for, or why he might have chosen Vegas as a rendezvous point.

“Okay, here’s the plan.” You pulled Dean over to the table where Sam was already seated. “I go to Vegas. My car should be here by then, so that won’t be a problem. You guys wait a few towns over, like in Henderson or Boulder City or whatever. That way you won’t be too far away, but it should be far enough that Braxton feels safe. Before I leave, I’ll hack into every camera at the Skyloft and all surrounding buildings for you guys so you can keep an eye on me. I’ll see if I can get audio too.”

“He’s not gonna like that.”

“I’m going to Vegas for him. If he doesn’t like it, then I’ll walk. I’m not getting caught off guard again.”

“Speaking of getting caught off guard,” Dean butted in. “Your sister. What are you gonna do about her?”

“Facial recognition software. I’ll make some tweaks to the program I made for my junior project at MIT so all you guys have to do is get a clear shot of her face and run it through.”

Sam sat back and shook his head. “Is this why you didn’t sleep last night?”

With a nod, you moved on with your plan. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep a bug on me because I have a feeling that Braxton is going to be extra protective over whatever he has to say to me. So we’ll need some way to signal each other if something goes sideways. I’ll have some sort of gesture for you to see in the cameras. And if the cameras fail…”

“He won’t hurt you,” Sam said confidently. “But we should still have a signal.”

The three of you spent another day hammering out the details of your plan, then it was time for you to leave and head out to Vegas. Sam rode in your Maserati with you, and Dean led the way in the Impala on your interstate trip. The closer you got to Vegas, the more nervous you became.

It wasn’t just that Braxton had a big secret.

It was that you might have a sister.

And that was what scared you more than anything.

Part 29 of Avenging Angel IS out, but the links aren’t working on this one for some reason (Get your shit together, tumblr!) so just go to the series masterlist and go from there

<https://imagining-supernatural.tumblr.com/post/158534002535/avenging-angel-part-29>

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