#i need to know whos split between the poker table and the seven up table

[ratatatastic]

the amount of poker on the team plane lore we’ve gotten so far… they are but 11 year old boys at summer camp who spend the whole day just playing intense poker because its too hot to go outside but all the foosball and air hockey tables are taken inside and the camp counselor got bored one day and decided to teach them and now theyre obsessed and wont stop

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Fifteen Years Later

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Summary: Set fifteen years after the twins from “I Need You” were born, the Hood children discover just how outlandish some fan theories are

Warnings: Swearing, fan theories

Requested: Nope

A/N: Yeah so this is inspired by discovering some of the theories people had about louis’ son after he was born and I missed this universe so thought it would be fun to add a little more to it. It is technically a Calum x reader fic but it’s mainly just about the kids, but I hope you guys enjoy! As always please remember to let me know what you think - send me asks, reblog and comment, hearing your responses always makes my day a little better and makes me want to keep writing :) and also please don’t take this too seriously, this fic is just a bit of fun, please don’t attack me for it or somethin

“Hey, can I come in?” Maia didn’t wait for Leo to respond before she sauntered into his room and flopped down onto his bed.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Leo said, rolling his eyes a little, making another edit to his essay. “What’s up?”

“I’m bored,” Maia shrugged, pulling out her phone.

“And it’s up to me to entertain you?” Leo questioned, swivelling his chair around to look at his twin with raised eyebrows.

“That’s your job as my dear older brother,” Maia confirmed with a cheesy grin directed towards him.

“I thought twenty seven minutes didn’t count as being older than you?” Leo mused, turning his chair back around so that he could return to work on his homework.

“It does when it’s convenient to me.”

“Nowhere in my job description does it say that I have to entertain you.”

“Arsehole.”

“Bitch.”

Silence fell between the twins as the two of them went about their separate activities - Leo doing his best to finish his homework, Maia scrolling aimlessly on her phone.

The two of them hadn’t shared a room in years. They had moved back to Australia when their mother found out that she was pregnant with their younger sister, Sophie, their parents having wanted to be nearer their own families for the birth of their fourth child.

Leo and Maia had been five when Sophie was born, and they had spent so much of their lives up until that moment being practically attached to the hip that they resented their parents a little for splitting them up.

So it was logical when their parents had their fifth child, Kara, two years later, that Maia and Leo would room together again.

The Hoods moved again when the twins were thirteen, Theodore was eleven, Sophie eight and Kara six, into the house that they still lived in now, with each child having their own room at last.

Calum had taken a lot of time away from the band in recent years, choosing to spend more time with his family.

It had been his idea to move house, understanding that as much as the twins were still still rather inseparable, they did need their own space as they grew into their teenage years. So he had spent months working on the house for them, setting up all of the children’s rooms exactly as they wished, with much help from his best friends, who had also moved back to Australia a few years prior.

And yet it was hardly uncommon to find Maia in Leo’s room - he had gotten first pick of the bedrooms on account of being the eldest, much to Maia’s distaste. It wasn’t that Leo’s room was the biggest of the childrens - no, he had allowed Maia to have the largest room, but it was the placing of it that sparked so much jealousy between the twins.

It was the room that had the best view, overlooking both the garden, which, since moving in, Y/N had spent so long tending to and making it look beautiful.

“Oh my God!” 

“What’s happened?” Leo asked in alarm, not expecting Maia’s outcry. His twin began to laugh.

“Come look at this!”

“What is it?” Leo asked again, rolling his chair across the room, away from his desk and towards the bed to have a look at Maia’s phone screen.

“Fan theories.”

“Fan theories?” Leo repeated, furrowing his brow. “Why’s that so amazing?” 

“Because they’re about Dad!”

“What?” Leo gasped, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Can I borrow your computer?” She asked, already leaping off of his bed towards the laptop on Leo’s desk and opening it, copying the web address that she had been scrolling through on her phone.

“You’ve found some 5sos fan theories?” Leo cackled, moving his chair back in front of his desk as they waited for the website to load.

“They’re insane, as well.”

The twins lapsed into silence as they began to read through the blog posts together, occasionally laughing at some of the more outlandish proposals being made.

Finally, Leo spoke, leaning back a little in his chair with a slight frown on his face.

“So… they think that Dad is actually with Uncle Ash, and that Mum and Aunt Kaykay are just, what - beards?” Leo shot a questioning look to Maia, whose expression remained gleeful as she nodded.

“That seems to be the case, yeah.”

“So… what’s their theory about us?”

“Us?”

“Well… do they think that we’re actually adopted by Dad and Uncle Ash or what? Because there are definitely plenty of photos released of Mum pregnant - especially when she was having Kara,” Leo pointed out.

There was a knock on Leo’s door.

“Yeah?” He called, the door opening to reveal Theodore, his head still buried in a book.

“Tea’s ready,” he mumbled, eyes still intently focused on the pages in front of him.

“Theo - come look at this.”

“I’m busy,” he denied, already beginning to walk away.

“You’ll find it funny!” Maia insisted, grinning over at Leo who rolled his eyes affectionately at their brother’s actions. 

“Doubtful - your sense of humour sucks,” Theodore countered, already halfway down the hallway and about to go downstairs.

“Hey!”

“It’s food time,” Theodore repeated, at last looking up from his book, back down the hallway at his siblings, his expression looking as though he was attempting not to burst into laughter at the look of indignation on Maia’s face.

He didn’t wait for more of a response from her, however, before turning and walking downstairs to where the twins could now hear the sounds of their other family members clattering around in the kitchen and their father singing along to the music playing.

“Hey!” Leo protested when Maia huffed in response to Theodore’s attitude and grabbed her twin’s laptop, slamming it closed and taking it with her downstairs.

Leo gave an exhausted sigh and shook his head before slowly standing up and stretching, following his younger siblings.

The usual chaos greeted Leo as he entered into the kitchen.

Sophie was skipping around laying the table for food, with Kara following her, gripping the knives and forks tightly and looking rather serious as she did so. Theodore still had his head buried in his book but was, at the same time, reaching up into the cabinet nearby the fridge and getting out enough glasses for everyone.

Maia still had Leo’s laptop in hand and was attempting to get the attention of their parents who were stood by the stove, Y/N cooking and Calum leaning against the counter next to it, a grin on his face as he said something to make his wife laugh. 

“Hey - you know the rules, Maia, no gadgets at the table,” Y/N said, finally catching sight of Maia, who had given up her attempts and had slouched into a seat, placing Leo’s laptop on the plate in front of her and pouting.

“That’s not even your laptop,” Calum pointed out, laughing as he crossed the room to place a kiss on the top of his eldest daughters head. “How was your day - you okay?” He added gently.

“Fine - I wanted to ask you two something,” she explained.

“Is it what you were trying to show me?” Theodore piped up from the other side of the room, where Kara was now attempting to help him sort out the drinks for everyone.

“Now you’re interested,” Maia huffed, opening up the laptop.

Calum sat in the chair beside her, looking attentively at the screen, always willing to take time to involve himself in his children’s lives when they gave him the opportunity, eager to listen to whatever it was that they were currently interested in.

“Can’t it wait, sweetheart - food’s ready.” Y/N said, bringing over the food and placing it in the centre of the table, fixing Calum with a look that had him smiling guiltily at her.

“No, this is important!” Maia insisted, ever stubborn and determined to get her way.

“Alright,” Y/N sighed, though it was clear to everyone in the room that she was trying her hardest to suppress her laughter. “What is it?” 

“When were you going to tell us that you’re a beard to hide Uncle Ashton and Dad being together?” Maia questioned shortly, her lips twitching at the edges in her best attempt to maintain a poker face.

Calum choked on the water he had just taken a drink of.

“What’s a beard?” Kara asked, tilting her head to the side and looking at her parents curiously. 

Neither of them answered, Y/N too busy laughing and Calum attempting to collect himself.

There was a smirk on Maia’s face as she, too, looked between her parents.

Sophie was looking equally confused by Maia’s term and even Theodore had looked up from his book to watch the exchange, mild interest on his face.

“What is it?” Kara repeated, looking over to Leo instead, desperate to understand the conversation.

“Maia’s just being silly, K, don’t worry,” Leo assured his youngest sister, sitting down at the table and Kara immediately climbed up onto the chair beside her.

“But what does it mean?”

“Maia’s suggesting that I’m only with Dad to cover up that Dad’s actually with Uncle Ash,” Y/N explained, still grinning to herself at the sheer absurdity of the suggestion. Calum had also begun to chuckle along, his eyes crinkled as he focused on the screen of Leo’s laptop.

“Why would you do that?” Sophie asked, taking the chair beside Kara, swinging her legs under the table as she waited for everyone else to join them sitting down so that food could be served.

“Are you?” Kara questioned in confusion.

“No, sweetheart,” Y/N said and met Calum’s eyes, the two of them grinning at each other. “Just some of Dad’s fans like the idea of him dating Uncle Ash-”

“Or Uncle Mike or Luke,” Calum interrupted knowledgeably.

“Yeah exactly - a lot of it was just about the idea of them being together or just their friendship but there are some occasions where the theories… go beyond that,” Y/N explained, evidently picking her words carefully.

“So you didn’t just have us all for PR?” Leo asked, feigning surprise.

“Of course we didn’t,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s been a while since I’ve looked at fan theories,” Calum said, a certain kind of affection in his voice. “Were you looking at the extreme theories?” He asked, looking interestedly at his daughter.

“They seemed pretty serious that you and Uncle Ash were secretly together - they reckon that you and Mum staged all the photos from when you were kids to make it seem like you had been together for that long.”

“And apparently your management forced you to marry Mum, even though you didn’t want to - something about a morse code pattern that you tapped during an interview once asking for help,” Leo inputted.

“Yeah - I think I read that one as well. I remember being tweeted about it,” Calum confirmed reminiscently.

“You used to read fan theories?”

“Yeah - out of curiosity more than anything,” Calum shrugged.

“I used to get tweeted them a lot,” Y/N added. “Put the laptop away, Maia? Food’s going to go cold.”

“And I’m hungry!” Sophie added, but her cheerful grin was still present.

“Tell Theodore to put his book away,” Maia huffed, annoyance in her voice and looking at Theodore who was sitting opposite her.

“Don’t call me that,” Theodore snapped in response, his eyes immediately flared with anger.

It wasn’t uncommon for Maia and Theodore to butt heads, especially over trivial things.

“Theo, put your book away - Maia, put Leo’s laptop away,” Calum sighed after catching Y/N’s eye.

“But you said you’d look!”

“I will - but after tea, alright?” Calum soothed his eldest daughter.

“Besides - we already know a lot of the more… absurd ones.” 

“Like what?” Sophie asked eagerly, beginning to dish out the food now that everyone was present and ready to eat.

“He’s still reading!” Maia cut her sister off, pointing accusingly at Theodore, who did indeed still have his book laying open on his lap under the table, eyes trained on it.

“Snitch,” he muttered, but closed the book after receiving stern looks from both of his parents.

There was a satisfied smirk on Maia’s face as she relaxed in her chair again. 

Leo caught her eye and rolled his own after catching the expression on his twin’s face.

“I’m confused,” Kara stated after a moment, her young face scrunched up as she stared down at her plate, looking as though she was trying to comprehend ideas way past the understanding that her eight years of age allowed her.

“About what?” Calum asked through a mouthful of food, rewarding him with a scolding look from Y/N that he responded to with a sheepish smile. Kara pointed at Maia, still frowning. “The theories?” Calum suggested before Maia could make some sort of snarky remark and Kara nodded.

“Why would you lie?”

“And why would you have ended up with five kids?” Theodore inputted.

“I read a theory that I got pregnant with someone else to force Calum to stay with me,” Y/N stated casually.

“What?” It was a communal cry of shock from all five children, staring at their mother in complete surprise, while Calum lapsed back into laughter.

“Yeah, some people thought that I got pregnant by someone else, told Calum that the twins were his and so he stayed with me out of duty.” Y/N said, a wry smile on her face, glancing over at her husband. “But that was from people who didn’t like me rather than anything else,” she added.

“What about the people who think Dad and Uncle Ash are together?” Theodore asked curiously, and Leo saw triumph cross Maia’s face at having piqued their brother’s interest.

“Well there are a lot of theories,” Calum said slowly.

“Some think that you guys are actually all adopted by the two of them,” Y/N said. “And that I must live in a shed outside or something to account for why I’m always here.”

“A shed!” Sophie shrieked, laughing and Kara joined in, though looking a little uncertain, just wanting to fit in with her older sister.

“Maybe not a shed precisely, Soph,” Calum laughed. 

“But that’s the gist of it, yeah,” Y/N confirmed. “Oh my God!”

“What?”

“Cal - do you remember when Leo broke his arm?” Her eyes were sparkling with amusement and Calum’s eyes widened, his mouth splitting once again into a wide grin, throwing his head back.

“That was probably one of the most far fetched ones,” he agreed after having recovered a little.

“What about when I broke my arm?” Leo frowned, thinking back to when he was eight years old and had fallen funny during a football match, breaking his arm.

Calum had missed that match - having been called into the studio with Michael to get some recordings straightened out. When Y/N had called him in hysterics in the hospital waiting room, he had rushed straight there. Ashton, Luke and Michael had come along a little while afterwards with the other kids in tow - Ashton and Luke having been babysitting at the time.

“I don’t know if you guys remember - I don’t know why you would - but Ash caught the flu a few days after Leo broke his arm and I remember that there was a theory that I actually rushed off to the hospital to visit him and then management faked Leo’s broken arm to cover up that I was really there to see Ash.”

“They thought I faked having a broken arm?” Leo asked, blinking at his father and frowning.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“When the twins were first born, the same fans thought you two were dolls.”

“Dolls?” Maia repeated.

“Yep - obviously those nine months that I was pregnant with you had to be fake as I was supposedly ‘over-doing’ the pregnancy symptoms-” Y/N was cut off by Calum’s snort of laughter.

“I forgot that people said that.”

“Lucky you,” Y/N said drily. “And so when you were born there was no way that either of you two could be real - therefore you had to be dolls, made specifically to look like us two and made to look properly human.”

“But… we’re not dolls,” Leo pointed out.

“Maia’s got the personality of one,” Theodore mused.

Maia’s protests were lost under the sounds of Sophie and Kara’s giggles and Leo tried to stifle his own laughter, not wanting to aggravate his twin further.

“That’s enough, Theo,” Calum said, but he, too, looked like he was holding back chuckles. “It was something to do how you always looked the same in every photo, you were always positioned the same or something?” He looked to his wife for conformation who gave a shrug before nodding.

“Something like that.”

“We were babies - what were they expecting from us? Backflips or something?”

“I would’ve been so proud of you if you’d done backflips as a child,” Calum sighed. “As it stands, though…”

“Rude,” Maia huffed, but gave in and smiled at her father’s teasing jab.

“I can do a cartwheel!” Kara inputted, puffing up her chest proudly. “Sophie taught me!” She added, after looking over to find that Sophie was looking at her.

“And that’s why you’re my favourite,” Calum assured her.

This caused an outbreak of protests and grumbling from the other four children, all of whom looked greatly offended despite none of them really taking him at all seriously.

“I’m the eldest, surely I hold some form of special affection in your heart,” Leo complained.

“Eldest by twenty-seven minutes!”

“Those twenty-seven minutes are what hold me in higher standing!”

“You two were researching theories that you’re not really our children,” Calum pointed out. “Kara doesn’t know how the computers work.”

“I do!”

“That’s true - she can get onto Minecraft,” Theodore agreed. “Though it’s understandable you resent Maia and Leo, they are rather annoying at all times.”

“Hey, you weren’t the favourite either so don’t get all high and mighty on us.”

“Why aren’t I the favourite?” Sophie asked, looking genuinely distraught.

“Tell you what - whoever cleans up after tea will rise the ranks of favourite child.”

The effect of Calum’s words were immediate, Sophie, Maia and Leo springing to their feet to help out. Kara giggled as she watched her older siblings playfully fighting over who got to clear away Calum’s empty plate and Theodore rolled his eyes to himself, letting out a long-suffering sigh and picked up his book again.

“You know manipulating your children like this makes you a bad person, right?” Y/N asked as she watched the chaos in the room.

“Well of course it makes me sound like a bad person when you put it like that.”

The sounds of clattering dishes had attracted the attention of the dogs, two of which came bounding into the room, the youngest - a spaniel named Milo -still a puppy, who jumped around yapping at the children. The other dog - also a spaniel, named Bowie - instead came over to the table, licking the hand Kara stretched out for him before walking over to Theodore’s chair, silently begging for attention.

Theodore had always been the child that animals gravitated towards.

Almost absent-mindedly, he dropped a hand down to stroke Bowie’s head and a small smile appeared on his face, though his eyes remained fixedly on his book.

Duke entered the kitchen, age waring him down and making his movements slow. He attempted to bark but seemed a little too tired as he ambled his way over to the table, flopping down next to Calum’s chair.

Calum scooped up the small dog and placed him on his lap.

“Hey, old man.” 

Y/N reached over to pet the elderly dog, a sad smile on her face.

“We’ve done alright, haven’t we?” She asked Calum quietly.

“Theo?” Kara’s voice was quiet from across the table.

“Yeah?”

“Will you read with me again tonight?” She sounded shy asking her brother. Y/N was momentarily distracted from Calum and looked at her two children, Kara looking at her older brother imploringly.

“Of course I will,” Theodore agreed, his voice low but kind and gentle in a way that it only sounded when speaking to his youngest sister or the dogs.

“Yeah - I think we did just fine - maybe not as interesting if half of those theories were true,” Calum said, moving one of his own hands off of Duke’s fur and cupping Y/N’s face gently.

She laughed a little at that.

“Maybe we’d be a little more interesting if they were true,” she agreed, smiling prettily up at him in the way that even now still brought a flutter to his chest.

“But I think we’ve done just fine, Nib.”

[originofjaehyun]

Interlude: No More Drama | Part 11 | Not Alone

Interlude: No More Drama Masterlist

Word count: 5,432

Warnings: Graphic description of violence, mentions of rape, language

Part 11 | Not Alone

“One step, one step, one step each. Closer, closer, closer to the place that appeared in my dream that looks like me, can you feel not alone?”

Prev • Next

The laughter and the applause in the room are quickly replaced by whispers between each other. They are clearly baffled with the turn of the event, trying to solve the puzzle.

“What is the meaning of this?!” While he still talks in a somewhat calm manner, the way his eyes stutter tell Jaehyun that he is anything but calm.

The officers in uniform reached to where they are standing, each proceeds to hold the arms of Mr. Jeong’s and Kyungmi’s. As expected, at least one of them goes berserk.

“Don’t touch me!” Kyungmi swatted the officer’s hand, refused to be taken away, “Jaehyun, tell them who I am! They don’t have the right to do this!”

“Oh, but they do.” Jaehyun talks calmly. A side of him that you know –when he locked on his prey and he knows the percentage of his success is almost absolute.

“Jeong Jaehyun, you don’t want to do this.” His father warned him, and for the first time that night, he whispered instead of speaking proudly, possibly so that the mic wouldn’t catch his words. “Don’t mess around.”

He took a glance at his father and his so-called fiancée that he never acknowledges. He gave a nod to the officers, cueing them to proceed with the arrest.

Before any of them could make a scene, Jaehyun took the mic again, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m terribly sorry for the commotion.” He didn’t even bother about the ruckus behind him, “I understand that today was supposed to be a celebration of our new launch, but I’d like to use this opportunity to address a few things, and why it is important to announce it right here, right now.”

His eyes are now directed to your table, where he mainly locks his gaze to yours, “Also, I’d like to apologize to the involved team, especially to Mr. Seo and also Ms. [Y/L/N] as the person in charge of this project. Really, I do regret that I need to steal the star of the show.”

The way he calls you flinches you. Not only does it causes the whole hall to look at your direction, but also it feels extremely strange for Jaehyun to address you that way. It’s foreign, so foreign.

“Objections!” Frustrated that his own flesh and blood did not obey him, you can tell that he starts to lose his composure, “Jaehyun, what are you doing?! You’re clearly not thinking straight. You exposing me means you exposing yourself.”

Jaehyun just stands there, giving his father a disdainful look.

Obviously you can hear a bit of their words from the microphone, but not enough for you to grasp the full picture as the stage was quite far. Everyone seems perplexed and share the same sentiment with you, except for Johnny.

“Johnny,” Noticing that it is very strange for him to be this calm, you called him in hope you could get an answer, “What is going on? Do you know anything?”

Smirk appears at one corner of his lips, “Just wait and see.”

“Mr. Jeong,” Jaehyun said, purposefully talking in front of the mic so that the whole hall could hear him loud and clear. There’s a hint of contempt in the way Jaehyun called his father. 

He no longer addresses him as his own.

“Before you could object to anything, I’d think it would only be fair for our valuable guests to know where I’m coming from.”

“Don’t you dare…!” He tried to threaten Jaehyun, but at the same time he was being careful not to taunt him too much. He didn’t want to lose his pride, even so, there was a trail of fear in his tone.

“Oh, I do, sir,” Jaehyun said, ice cold. “Taeil, would you please.”

“Guards!” His father tried to intercept, calling his own men.

However they never arrived. The imperious man finally lost his presence of mind, looking around, puzzled. On the other hand, the strikingly handsome person who is stationed at the FOH immediately granted Jaehyun’s command.

“So, your father, how is he?”

The screen at the stage displayed an audio-only footage. And even without the picture, it is no brainer to figure out who is the owner of the voice.

“You know, it’s the same old, Jaehyun.” The other counterpart owns a fairly high-pitched voice, and it was no other than Kyungmi’s. “Thank God your dad is well connected to Chief Jang! If not it will be over for us.”

“Chief Jang?” 

“Yes, him! Daddy was telling me he was involved in poker scam when all he did was to invite that stupid rich guy from Sri Lanka!”

“Ms. Hyun, if I were you I wouldn’t say such information in a public place like this.” That is when you realized the audio was mixed with rustles, including a few sounds of people’s laughter in the background.

“Oh, Jaehyun, you’re so square!” Kyungmi squealed, borderline annoying, “We’re going to be husband and wife soon anyway. Also, I know your father would take care of it if things go bad, so it’s toots fine!”

“So yeah, I was saying,” She totally dismissed Jaehyun’s warning, “Daddy’s worst habit is he never checks on his client’s background. Who would’ve thought he was a criminal, a mafia or some sort!”

“Well that’s a surprise,” The clinking sound of cutleries being put down –presumably fork and knife– leaks in the audio, “I mean, knowing our backgrounds, Ms. Hyun, I thought your father would take extra precautions.”

“I know right! But I think daddy felt safe because we’re about to get married. Nobody messes around with your father, Jaehyun, we all know that. In any case, the seven hundred million that daddy gets from him will also be split to your father’s bank account too.”

The whole audience gasps.

“Nonsense!” His father tries to escape the officer’s grip. “Jaehyun, I command you to stop! This is ridiculous!”

“Jaehyun! You recorded our conversation?!” Kyungmi also protests.

“What are you doing, son?!” His father used all of his strength to move closer to where Jaehyun is, suit all wrinkled from trying to escape the officers’ grip. “Don’t you realize the consequences we’ll have to deal with once all of these leaks out?!”

“Everyone!” She pleaded, “This is all fabricated! My father and I are people of honor! We, The Hyuns, would never do such things!”

“Fabricated?” Jaehyun stared at the two people who looked awry in front of him. 

That is when they know they just landed on the minefield.

Jaehyun scoffed, mockingly, “Initially don’t want to show this because the footage is not very pleasing. Believe me, if only the two of them would admit the truth, I wouldn’t.” He speaks to the audience, dismissing the protests behind.

“For the record,” He continues, “I would like to warn everyone that what I’m about to show you is containing graphic content and might be upsetting to watch. So if you are sensitive to the subject, I advise you to not look, but this is needed to unfold the truth.”

Jaehyun gives Taeil a nod, permitting him to play the infamous clip.

Suddenly the screen plays a motion image of a corridor. By the setup, you’re guessing the location was in the corridor of a luxury hotel. A penthouse, probably.

“Ready, Chicago?”

“Whenever you are, Winnie.”

The unfamiliar voice called for the unfamiliar name, but after spending so much time meeting with him, you know that the voice belongs the man who’s sitting next to you. You seem to be the only one who realized this, as you are the only one who shift your gaze to him who casually watching the footage while crossing his legs.

At the cue, they forcefully enter the room, at the sight of middle-aged men in the middle of intercourse, where a lone woman is unconscious. There are no subtitles available, but it is evidently clear that she was drugged. One of the men who was in the middle of recording the lovemaking panicked. He tried to escape but unfortunately for him the person who wore the camera got him. Johnny, on the other hand swiftly took care of the man who was raping the lady.

“Do we got them all?” Johnny checks.

“We do,” Another man appears on the frame. He was wearing a uniform so you couldn’t tell who it was.

“Good.” The cameraman applauds them for their swift and clean job. “Teddy, help Winnie tying them up. I got business to ask this guy.”

“Roger that, Casper,” The person with code name Teddy exclaims, before the camera pans to a disgusting figure of the rotten old man. Not only you were horrified with the fact that the footage wasn’t censored, but you were also shocked by the fact that you know there could be only one who possessed the low velvety voice like the cameraman’s – no other than Jeong Jaehyun himself.

“Chief Jang,” He approached the man in question, filming the man’s then-horny face. “Look what we got, a prestigious man gang-banged an immobilized woman. What would the society say?”

“Don’t!” The man asked for mercy. “Please, I’ll do anything! Don’t let people know!”

He whimpers, but Jaehyun shows no sign of backing off, “Anything?”

“Yes, yes! Anything! What do you want? Money? Gold? Oh, I can give you women, too!”

Johnny clearly was not satisfied with his answer. He almost lost his temper at the way this man looked down on women, he reactively choked the man out of anger.

“Easy,” Jaehyun commands, “Now listen you piece of shit,” Jaehyun squatted so he can be on the same eye-level as the man. He pulls his hair so he could get a clearer shot of his face, which in return gains a shrieking yelp from the man.

“Tell me, where did you get all of these accesses?”

The man writhed in pain but refused to speak a single word.

“Chicago,”

Johnny slammed the man’s head to the end of the bed, causing him to scream in pain, and blood started to ooze from his head. The audience screamed at the sudden violence. Some even took a napkin and rushed to the nearby toilet, feeling nauseated.

“Talk,” He pulls the man’s head once more, revealing his ugly sobs that are mixed with blood. “You don’t want to mess around with our friend here,” He gestured to Johnny, “He’s a man of brute strength.”

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” It’s almost disgusting how he easily gives in. “It’s Wonshik Hyun! He told me if I could let him out of his gambling cases, he would exchange it with these!”

“Wonshik Hyun?”

“The founder of Hyun Ventures!” He choked, almost out of breath due to the pain. However when he looked at Jaehyun’s glare, he was instantly intimidated, “He is addicted to gambling, and it is thanks to his partner, the founder of NCT Corporation he’s able to walk away!”

“You’re from fucking law enforcement, Chief Jang.” Jaehyun scowled, sickened by the way he acted, “At the highest ranking for fuck’s sake, yet here you are.”

“I’m sorry!” He cries, “I was about to investigate it but I just can’t stop.”

Jaehyun clicked his tongue in disbelief.

“Please let me go! Don’t tell anyone about this! I have a family back home.” He sobs, asking for their pity.

“My son, yes, my son!” His pathetic face quickly turned bright, as if he just found a way out. “He’s about to enter college! My child, he aims to enter law school this year, surely you don’t want to ruin his future?!”

A fist landed on his cheek, snapping his nose into a grotesquerie. He didn’t stop with just a punch, not until Johnny held him back.

“Enough, Casper. He won’t be able to speak.”

“Fucking bastard.” Barely holding his anger, you never know Jaehyun is capable of releasing such wrath. “We are the one who’s gonna ruin his future? Look at yourself you filthy fuck–”

The video stops, and the crowd quickly starts to murmur. They closed their mouths at the sudden revelation, and it’s obvious that they’re giving displeased looks to Jaehyun’s father.

“How…”

Cat got his tongue. He can’t say anything when the evidence is crystal clear.

“Sir,” Jaehyun answers confidently, “You, introducing me to Ms. Hyun is exactly the key that I needed to unfold the truth. That part I have to thank you.”

“Jaehyun, you used me?! How could you, I’m your fiancée!”

The crowds let out a loud gasp before Jaehyun calmly handles the situation, “Fiancée? Did I ever say yes to the engagement? You’re the one who’s acting on your own. Our meetings are always arranged by my father, telling me I should get close to you. But I’m glad I can turn our dinners to gain the information I needed, Ms. Hyun”

His statements made Kyungmi lost all the strength on his legs. She couldn’t accept if this is her fate so she continues to freak out, “How dare you, Jaehyun! I loved you, and I thought what we share was real!”

If a gaze could cut, Kyungmi would be in pieces right now. Jaehyun’s stare was sharp, and cold, causing her to flinch. “How could I love you when I don’t even have your number, Ms. Hyun? I know nothing of you, except the fact that you own a loose mouth.”

You can start to listen to the people behind you talking to each other.

“She’s his fiancée?”

“What kind of fiancée that doesn’t have each other’s number? What a crazy woman!”

“She’s just delusional, Jeong Jaehyun probably just talked to her once and she thinks he’s her!”

“Ms. Hyun,” Jaehyun continues to speak, this time looking directly at her, still standing near the mic. “I’d like to thank you for giving me the most crucial information regarding…” He hesitates but decides to proceed. “This father of mine. But I’d like to tell you and,” He looks forward to the guests. “To everyone who attends.”

“There’s only one woman in my life that was able to change my heartless soul. She’s the one that I will always treasure. I never know my heart is capable of beating the way it beats when she’s around me. Her views, her visions. She’s different from any other woman I knew. She’s a fighter, a firecracker, in fact. And that is why I love her. She’s the one who introduces me that there is always hope.”

“Because of this,” He looked back at the two people, scornfully, “I was unable to keep her. But like a ray of sunshine after rain, I hope tomorrow, or the day after, or even after it passes seventy years.” He took a quick glance at you, before directing it back upfront. “I hope it could bring her.”

You bring both of your hands in front of your hand, not expecting his sudden confession. You swore you’re not a crybaby, but the last few minutes are probably the most information you have to take in a short period of time and it’s understandable that you’re unable to keep your emotion in check.

Your heart is about to jump out of your chest, heart racing from his words. Tears welled up, but you’re not a fighter –like what Jaehyun mentioned, if you didn’t try to fight your own tears.

“Fool!” Finally snaps, his father uses every bit of his strength to escape from the hands that are holding him. “You just expose our family, Jaehyun! Do you think you can escape this?! Or your filthy ungrateful brother?!” He said, grabbing his son’s suit. Jaehyun, who’s clearly on the upper hand in term of strength, easily broke free from his grip.

“Don’t act like we’re your own,” Jaehyun grunts, “I’ve not used a single penny you gave to me. You can check my bank account where you always transfer my money. The amount is exactly whatever you gave to me in years.”

His face slowly lost its vibrance, “And don’t act as you care about Mark,” Jaehyun looks at Mark’s direction, nodding at him to make him feel secured. “I did this for our family, when you failed to do so. I bet all of my net worth that you don’t even know that Mark has been working part-time for his own spendings. Also, from this day onwards all of his necessities will go through me as I will be his guardian.”

Mark’s jaw drops, he could not believe the turn of the events –of his rotten father finally meeting his doom.

You thought by now his father would turn himself, but you were wrong. Instead, he started to laugh hysterically.

“Heh, do you think it will be easy, boy?” His father snickers, as if he lost his sanity. “Wait until I talk to my lawyer. Do you think my men would stop? You just took one person, son. That is barely enough to take me down.”

“Oh?” Jaehyun raised one brow upwards, “Three months ago when you first introduced Ms. Hyun at Seo’s office, we’re already more than halfway in on our operation.”

“Not only I was involved, but I am connected to your people too. I hope you haven’t turned insane to not remember that you do planned on making me the next heir.” He said, unfazed.

“Most of your powerful men are now waiting for their trials. You’ll be the next in line. You’ll have the right to consult with a lawyer prior to any further questioning at your own expense. Though, your personal lawyer, Mr. Yang would not be able to attend due to the fact he receives money from illegal transactions.”

“You son of a bitch!” Jaehyun’s father finally lost it, about to throw his fist to Jaehyun. Him, being well-trained in combat, is able to tackle it easily, twisting his father’s arm.

“Bitch? Who are you referring to, my deceased mother?” He looked low at his father, who’s writhing in pain. “Let’s finish this in the court. Though, I’m positive you’ll end behind the bars for the rest of your life. Then, go and think twice before you call my mother that way.”

He pushed his father away and the officers quickly grab him. With Jaehyun’s commands, they finally take both Mr. Jeong and Kyungmi away.

“Sorry for the scene,” He runs his hand through his hair, fixing it before he greets the audience, “There will be another separate session for the press release regarding this. So for tonight, do enjoy the food and the champagnes. I was told the canapés are marvelous.”

He then goes down the stage, to where Mark is. Mark practically runs to his older brother, asking for a further explanation about the whole situation. Same goes with the rest of the people. As expected, the crowds start to swarm around both of them.

“I guess nobody is interested in the canapés, huh?” Johnny said, finally turning his body to where the rest of you are.

“Duh. But before that,” You lean forward so you’re closer to Johnny, “You are a fucking secret agent? What the heck is going on! How could I not know?!”

“Language, [Y/N]. And if you do know then I’m doing a lame job as a secret agent, no?” He chuckles, rightfully earned your tiny punches.

“I thought you invited me for your project launching party, [Y/N].” Yuta finally spoke, after every single one of you on your table was silenced due to the drama that happened on the stage. “You never told me that… we’re going to watch a soap opera.”

“Believe me, Yuta,” You rolled your eyes, “How could I know?”

You guys were busy discussing what just happened, and then suddenly you sensed that flocks of people were coming to your direction.

You turned your head to find the fine man in white suit was the one who brought the crowd to you.

“[Y/N],” He says softly.

“Jaehyun,” You reactively rose from your seat, but quickly hesitated. Jaehyun did declare his love to you. Sure, he never mentioned your name but that doesn’t change the fact that the first woman he approached was you –and you know how much people quickly jump into the conclusion. The last thing you want is to gain people’s attention by being together with him.

“Johnny,” As if he could read your mind, he quickly glanced at Johnny’s direction, which Johnny replied with a single nod.

“Alright, everyone,” Johnny stands up, fixing his suit. “Donghyuck, let’s guide them to the VIP room.”

Without any further explanation, Donghyuck escorts both you and Yuta to the designated room. The journey there was tedious, you couldn’t imagine how Jaehyun could even walk to you with the crowd constantly barging him with questions. 

“Mr. Jeong! What makes you do this?”

“Is it out of revenge, Jaehyun?”

“Our transaction with NCT Corporation is legal, right?”

The crowd was more persistent than what Jaehyun thought. They keep pushing, demanding for an answer while Jaehyun kept his mouth shut. As the result, they squeezed you. Of course, Jaehyun would stay by your side in a heartbeat if he could, but there’s a line that he couldn’t cross –Yuta trying his best to protect you next by your side. But there’s so much that Yuta can do, fighting the rest of the hall by himself.

“Sicheng,”

Jaehyun uses his eyes to point in your direction, and a person named Sicheng who was stationed nearby quickly guards you. It becomes more bearable, since he granted you with enough space to walk, especially when you’re wearing an evening gown.

When they almost reach the end of the hall, more bodyguards are stationed, letting you and the rest of the group in while they hold the crowd who are still curious.

“Alright,” Johnny closes the door, now that everybody is inside the room. “So, how should we start, Jae?”

Now all eyes are on Jaehyun, including yours. But Jaehyun only fixes his gaze to yours.

He was drained. He might win this, but that was after he pulls every of his ace cards. All he wanted was to hold you, and for you to pat him on his head and thank him for his effort. 

But he can’t, not when Yuta is crossing his arms in front of his chest, waiting for an explanation. Yuta might not be directly involved, but now that he knows, he won’t accept a cliffhanger.

“Uhm, so where should I start…”

In contrast to his excellent stage presence, he is now stuttering, clearly awkward after engaging in eye contact with you. You are equally as nervous, fidgeting on your own fingers.

Yuta seems to notice the tension, breaking the awkward atmosphere, “I think you guys should talk.”

Everyone is in shock with his statement. Clearly giving him a ‘you just let your lover talk with her ex, though?’ kind of look. Yuta, on the other hand, finds his action to be very logical.

“I think you owe [Y/N] plenty of explanation, man. Probably something that’s only between you guys.”

You give him a look, asking him once more whether he’s sure with his decision. He gives you a gentle nod. “Just make sure you’re back for me.”

As much as Jaehyun is thankful to Yuta for giving his permission to talk to you, it doesn’t change the fact that his last sentence stings. The fact that Jaehyun is no longer the owner of your heart makes his heart feels heavy. 

Eventually you and Jaehyun agree to his suggestion, making your way to the room next door.

“I, uhm,” He scratched his head.

“Since when, Jae?” You asked first, giving him the hint where he should start.

“Well, let’s sit down first.”

He then proceeds by telling you that it started after he met Johnny again. They were teammates back in high school but turned out the friendship actually didn’t start there. Johnny entered NCT Corp. due to the fact he was the agent that was stationed there, for a mission that was obvious; arresting the head of Jeong.

He approaches Jaehyun, but Jaehyun outsmarts him to figure out his identity. Johnny thought he failed his mission, with his target’s son finding out who he was, but what a twist of an event it was for Jaehyun to actually offer his hand to help.

“So you were living this life even when we were together?”

“[Y/N]...” He gently speaks, as if he was afraid to break a heart that is so dear to him, “It was never my intention to put you in danger. It was a miscalculation on my side to fall for you that night.”

“Miscalculation?” You emphasized his choice of word, ready to snap at him.

“The best mistake I’ve ever made.”

Your cheeks start to turn pink at his remark, makes you forcefully break the eye contact.

“Uhm,” You awkwardly converse back to him, “No wonder you always came home late. You were rarely at home before midnight.”

“Aren’t you pushing yourself?”

You were about to tug one of his wild strands of hair, before you back off and remembered that he’s no longer yours.

He lets out a disappointed smile.

“I met you and I was already in the middle of my mission.”

“Yet you’re still asking me out?”

“I wish I could blame it on the alcohol that night, but I know they just unleashed my deepest desire. I couldn’t forget you ever since that night where we met at the bar. Ever since we made the first eye contact.”

“But you’re keeping secrets from me, Jaehyun. And not just any secret, you being a COO is already a big step that I have to take. Then suddenly you are the next heir of an underground business, and the next thing I know you’re also a secret agent! I was living a pretty normal life, Jaehyun, then you suddenly came into the picture. How do you expect a person like me, dating a powerful man like you?”

“It’s just the consequences that I have to take eventually.”

“You could’ve just told me properly, you know, as a warning.”

His voice was saturated with regret, “I know it’s wrong, but I swear I would never purposely put you in danger. The reason why I didn’t tell you all of these was because the egoistic part of me didn’t want you to leave me out of fear. I was overly confident that I could overtake my father in no time. I thought I could keep it hidden and live my life peacefully with you, but I didn’t expect him to... meet you.”

Part of you felt guilty at the way he mentioned how you would leave when you discover the truth. On how accurate his predictions were.

“It’s just…”  He sighs, “I was this close, [Y/N]. Of course, Hyun Kyungmi was an opening I never knew would come, but even so I was confident I could arrest him on my own. And I have to do this. For Mark, and for my future, our future.”

The sentence ended with a pregnant pause, both of you unsure how the conversation should continue.

Was it always this awkward with Jaehyun?

“So…” He finally breaks the silence, “Yuta, I think he’s a great guy.”

Your eyes quiver at the way Jaehyun speaks Yuta’s name. 

“He is, Jaehyun.” You carefully replied, “Though his jokes are borderline rude, it’s just his way to show his affection.”

Jaehyun dryly laughs, “He’s different from me, doesn’t he?”

His words stop you from going, prolonging the pause.

“But I’m glad he’s able to make you laugh like that.”

You saw how his gaze turns soft. It’s been forever since Jaehyun got a chance to look at you, and only you. It’s been a while he could have all of you for himself, for you guys talk in private like this.

He was intoxicated, in you. And he let you slipped away. He finally reached his goal, but he didn’t receive his prize.

“I miss you, [Y/N].”

You pressed your lips together. Air of melancholy filled the way you look at him.

“Jaehyun, I-”

“I know, I know. Just… let me get this out of my chest.”

He took a deep breath in, “Please let me this one go,”

He hugs you, and it feels like years since the last time you’ve felt Jaehyun’s warmth. 

There was a momentary pause before you could react.

Is this okay?

Is this fair, for you, Jaehyun, most importantly, for Yuta?

But how could something that feels so right be so wrong?

So you hug his broad shoulder back, pulling him closer to you. Indulging his embrace that’s been missing from you.

“You know, I always thought by hiding it from you means I can have my own haven. Living a triple life is can be quite chaotic.”

You laughed, “I could imagine.”

He scoffed warmly, “I have to wear three different masks in each settings, and there are times where I feel like I could break into pieces.”

“But then I met you,” He carefully caressed your hair, making sure he didn’t ruin your hairstyle for the night. “Every time I woke up next to you, I just knew what I’ve been missing in my life. How our mind connected, the sound of your laughter, and the way you teach me how to love, and the way you loved me back.”

Jaehyun always feels perfect, but he is a human too. You can feel he’s trembling, fighting the waves of emotion, “For once, I could be just myself when I’m with you. Not COO Jaehyun, or the next heir for some underground business, nor a secret agent. I can just be just Jaehyun, and it was liberating.”

His words hit you hard. You never knew how much weight he has on his shoulder, and how he hold everything on his own. You never knew that Jaehyun leaned on you that much.

It’s not fair for him to tell him all of this now. Not when you thought you can live your life without him.

“The next morning after you left, I thought I just had a nightmare.” He continues, “That night was probably the longest night I ever experienced. I fell asleep, drunk. When I woke up and I couldn’t find you next to me, I thought you were in the kitchen. You always said you wanted to make me breakfast.

Jaehyun took another breath in, “Yet the only sight I saw was the mess from the night before and everything finally became a reality for me.”

He lets you go, to see that you’re about to cry. He forcefully smiles, trying his best not to show the already apparent sadness.

“Don’t cry. You’re kind, that’s why you pitied me.”

No, that’s not it, Jaehyun.

You wonder why it is so hard for you to tell him so, but words just won’t come out.

“I realized that I meet someone and we sometimes drift apart. Sometimes it seems to be too much and too vague, so I get anxious over it. Even so, the world moves on, and so are you.”

Are you?

“I’m happy that Yuta’s able to make you smile. Something that I took away from you that night. I’m sorry for hiding things from you, but please know everything that we shared, our relationship, is real. Probably the most genuine feelings that I ever felt.”

You took one of your fingers to wipe the corners of your eyes, preventing the tears to ruin your makeup.

“Jaehyun, please don’t be so hard on yourself. Now that I know every reason behind it, it would be stupid of me not to forgive you.”

He nods, and there goes another silence.

Are you OK leaving things this way? How could you figure out your heart when your mind is filled with numerous tangled threads?

Suddenly the room next to you became so loud, surprising both you and Jaehyun. 

“Looks like he’s here,” Jaehyun stares at the wall, seeming to know the reason behind the fuss.

“Let’s go?” He offers his hand, shocked with his own action.

“Sorry,” He quickly shoved his hand to his pants pocket. “Old habits die hard.”

Oh, Jaehyun.

That, you too know very well.

Both of you walked to the first room to see Taeyong who’s busy crying while Mark continuously patted him, telling him to stop.

“There’s no way I could not cry, dumbass!” Taeyong pouts, receiving tissue from Johnny, “You’re finally free, Mark.”

A/N: Can you believe next week we’re going to have our last chapter? :o

So quick question, are you team Jaehyun or team Yuta? lol

[mrcleanheichou]

Forever and ever chapter 2

When two young people fall in love others often call it puppy love. A love so intense that ultimately fizzles out very quickly. No one believes someone so young could fall for someone so fast and have it be genuine until they see it with their own eyes.

Pairing Cowboy!Jungkook x reader

Genre fluff, angst, eventual smut

Word count 2K

Warnings Mention of a boner

Author’s note soooo long time no see lol I am such a bad fic writer, I literally start a WIP and don’t touch it for months. I have 4 WIPs that I bounce between when i get writer’s block. Slowly but surely I want to start writing consistently so I can get better. So I offer to you my Bangtan cowboy yeehaw fic. I really want to read cowboy fics but there’s barely anything so I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world and wrote my own.

Here’s chapter 1

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1 week later Jungkook had just finished working on sections of the barbed wire fence with Jimin when he saw his hyung Jin getting the wagon ready. As soon as he put the roll of extra wire and his gloves back in the shed he jogged over to Jin. “Hyung! Are you going to town?”, He asked a little too loud making the horse Jin was hooking up to panic a little. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re ok.”, Jin says trying to get the horse back under control. Once he gets the nervous animal to calm down he looks toward the sweaty young man. “Yeah, I have to go to the market. Do you want to go?”Jungkook said yes a little to excitedly. “Ok, but go wash up. You stink.”

Jungkook hurried to the room he shares with Taehyung in the large ranch house where all seven of the men who work on Bangtan cattle ranch live. 

**~~~~~~~~~** The whole operation is split four ways between the four older men. Namjoon and Yoongi run the majority of everything between Yoongi finding buyers for their livestock and Namjoon negotiating deals. They are both very knowledgeable cattlemen despite being in their mid twenties. They do not let other cattlemen try to dupe them because they think they’re young and gullible. Multiple times meetings have almost come to blows since the older men don’t like being shown up by the quick witted duo. The other partners are Jin and Hoseok. Jin takes care of feeding six very hungry mouths. He is a very good cook and he is also very skilled at fixing leather. He makes money on the side by fixing bridles and saddles for other people. Then there’s Hoseok who used to be a bronco rider on the rodeo circuit and now he uses his skills to break in young horses. Jimin and Taehyung were a couple of trouble makers that would do little odd jobs and play cards to get money to drink and entertain the women at multiple saloons almost every night. They ended up at the same poker table as Yoongi one night 6 years ago. They got to talking and he told them about needing workers on his ranch. Jimin automatically said no. He was very against that idea since he didn’t want to do actual hard labor in the sun. Taehyung was more open to the idea of a consistent pay check. Yoongi made them a bet. They’d play three rounds of ‘7-card-stud’ and if Yoongi beat them at least two times then he’d stop asking. But if he did beat them then they both had to come work for him. They took the bet and obviously Yoongi won. Although Jimin still to this day swears Yoongi cheated. Jungkook’s story is a little different. He made the 50 mile journey to Coyote Creek from his family’s farm after one of many fights he had with his father. When his mother died his father turned to alcohol to drown the pain. He became a monster of a man and resented the fact that Jungkook looked like his mother. The only time an argument turned physical was right before Jungkook ran away. He accidentally burnt the dinner he was making. His father immediately got up and grabbed Jungkook by the shirt and yelled in his face about how useless he was. He told him he regreted ever having him and that he has never loved him. When Jungkook started crying his father slapped him across the face. That was the final straw for Jungkook. As soon as his father was too drunk to even know where he was, he started packing some of his things and stole some money his father’s stash in his closet. He raided the storehouse for as much essential foods that he could reasonably transport and packed it all up onto one of their horses. Taking one final look back at his childhood home, Jungkook finally stopped fighting his tears. He sobbed, allowing himself to mourn the loss of both his mother and father. Once he calmed down he got on his horse and left his old life behind. At the age of 14 Jungkook set off for a better life. It took him  two days to reach the town where he promptly started asking around for a job. Unfortunately no one was interested in hiring him, even for simple jobs. After six days he was out of cash, hungry and desperate. He went to the horse auctions and was going to sell his horse to survive when a man who was wearing an expensive looking black cowboy hat asked him why he looked so sad. Jungkook told him he couldn’t get money any other way and he had no home to return to. The man gave him a sympathetic look and told him to stay where he was. That he’d be right back. A few minutes later he came back with a shorter man in tow. “My name is Namjoon and this is Yoongi.”, the other man tips his hat at Jungkook “I’d like to make you an offer.” Jungkook was about to say thank you when Namjoon cut him off, “But, I don’t want the horse. We’re looking for a new ranch hand and you look like a hard worker. Would you like to come work for us?” Jungkook immediately says yes. “What’s your name kid?” “Jungkook.” “Where are your parents?” Yoongi asked looking concerned. When Jungkook looked down at the ground trying to come up with an answer Yoongi put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” The two men take Jungkook with them to purchase the two horses they came to the auction for. They then head out for the ten mile ride it takes to get back to their ranch. Namjoon notices that Jungkook’s face looks sunburnt so he asks him if he needs a hat. “No, no it’s ok you don’t have to give me anything, I’m fine.” Namjoon pays him no mind as he takes the obviously expensive hat off his head and places it on Jungkook’s. “Every man needs a good hat.” Six years later Jungkook still wears it. **~~~~~~~** Jungkook took his time looking through his clothes. He finally chose a white button up, the pair of jeans he never wears when he does work and his nice town boots. After he washed up and changed he walked back to where Jin was waiting for him. ”You know we’re just going to town for supplies right?” Jin commented looking him up and down while Jungkook climbed onto the wagon next to him. Jin himself was wearing his work overalls that had leather oil on them. “Yeah, I just felt like dressing up that’s all.” Jin just shrugged and snapped the reigns to get the horse to start moving. When they got into town Jungkook immediately looked toward the school and was disappointed when it seemed like no one was there. Dejectedly, Jungkook got off the wagon and followed Jin to the first shop. “Ok, I made a you a list so we can split up and get it done faster”, Jin said handing Jungkook a piece of paper leaving him in front of the farmer’s market. Jungkook sighed and went into the shop that housed fruits and vegetables and opened the door. He grabbed a woven hand basket from the counter and went for the first item on his list. Apples. Not just any apples either, Jin wrote ‘***GOOD APPLES***’ Which caused Jungkook to stand confused in front of all the different types of apples for a few minutes. “What the hell does ‘good apples’ even mean? I thought all apples were good.” “Would you like some help?”, A sweet sounding voice asked. Jungkook looks to the side and almost gasped when he saw who was talking to him. It was the school teacher, she was stunning up close and her eyes were exceptionally beautiful. She smiles at him and he swears he felt his heart skip a beat. “You seem a little out of your element here.” “Y-yeah.”, Jungkook manages to say while trying to not stare at the woman. He doesn’t know why he’s so infatuated with her. He doesn’t even know her. “Do you know what kind of apples you want?” Jungkook feels his face getting hot because, no. Jin just wrote apples and there’s a bunch of different kinds in front of him. “No, my hyung didn’t write down what kind he wanted.” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I’m completely lost.” “That’s ok, can I see your list? Maybe I can try to guess what he’s making and get you the right apples for it.” Jungkook handed her the shopping list and their hands briefly touched causing Jungkook to completely stop breathing. The woman started reading the list and mumbling to herself with a look of concentration. Jungkook thought it was was the cutest thing ever. “Ok! I think he’s gonna be making apple pie because he wrote down; flour, sugar, cinnamon, salt, and butter. But you can’t get that here today. Mr. Lee only comes to town with his milk and butter 3 times a week so you’ll have to come back for that tomorrow. But we can definitely get your ‘Good Apples’ today.”, she giggled and he looked at her in awe. How could someone so lovely actually talk to him. He almost felt unworthy of being in her presence. “Ok so I’m going to be biased and get you the apples I personally think are the best for pie. If your Hyung doesn’t like them then tell me and I’ll give you money for different ones.” she said looking over her shoulder at a nodding Jungkook. “I love these ones. They’re ‘Pink Lady’ apples.”, she says grabbing a small light red apple “They’re Sweet but not too sweet. They make the pie come out much better than green apples and their name sounds classy.” She handed it to Jungkook and started picking out the best apples from the pile. After finding 6 perfect apples she put them in the basket he was carrying. Once again accidentally touching him In the process. Jungkook completely froze, he felt as if he was shocked by electricity. “I can help you with rest of your things” the woman said looking up at the poor awestruck man. “I mean only if you want me to...” she added when Jungkook just stared at her without answering worrying that she might have been intruding. Jungkook just nodded, he couldn’t trust himself to speak without fumbling over his words. The woman smiled and spent the next 30 minutes helping him with the rest of Jin’s list. After Jungkook payed the two made their way to the wagon. “Thank you for helping me. I would have been lost for a long time.” “You’re welcome” the teacher smiled at him brightly. “It was my pleasure. By the way what’s your name Mr apple pie?” “Jungkook” the woman pondered that for a second before extending her hand. “I’m y/n” Jungkook silently hoped she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his hand was. If y/n did she didn’t say anything about it while grasping his calloused hand with her smaller and much softer hand. Jungkook felt ashamed when his thoughts immediately when to a dirty place when he imagined her soft hands touching him somewhere else. Mentally slapping himself he snapped out of it before he, as Jimin liked to call it, popped a boner. “Well, Mr. Jungkook, I’ll see you at the school house bright and early tomorrow” she said while turning to walk away. When y/n was gone Jungkook raised his hand to his face to make sure this was all real. With his luck this would end up being a dream. At least it would has been a really good dream. He must have zoned out for a while because he was startled back to reality by Jin clapping him on the shoulder, “Stop staring into la la land and help me tie everything down.” Jungkook took one last look at his hand, “You were right hyung” ...’love at first sight does exist.’ “I’m always right. I don’t know why you’re barely realizing that now”

[rocket-remmy]

Two Of A Kind|| Mina and Remmy

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: It’s no royal flush, but maybe a budding friendship. Until someone interrupts. 

Mina seemed like a cool kid, and Remmy really, really needed a nice dose of normal. So when she’d messaged Remmy asking to go check out the casino, Remmy had immediately said yes, despite the crawling feeling in their chest. Maybe doing something fun and normal would help them feel better. Yes, that had to be the answer. Because nothing else had worked yet. Not talking, not crying, not hitting things. Maybe they just needed to get back to normal. They paced outside the casino, having arrived early, before finally deciding to sit at the bench just outside while they waited. Pacing would probably make them seem nervous and they didn’t want to give Mina that vibe when she first arrived. Exhaling slowly, they tried to do some of the techniques the doctor’s had taught them for when they had anxiety attacks. But when they thought about the doctor, all they could think of was how they’d all lied to them. And how they’d let them believe there was something wrong with them this whole time. And how Morgan thought there was something wrong with them for not knowing. Remmy’s eyes snapped open just in time to see someone walking up towards them. They gave a tentative wave. “Uh-- Mina? Remmy. I-- I’m Remmy!”

 Between the stress of trying to figure out who she is, along with worrying about Morgan and the lake and the squid in the lake and how she was going to get to the lake without being arrested… Mina was looking for a break. And, if that meant getting thrown out of another casino for simply being herself, then so be it! She contacted Remmy online after not hearing from them in a bit, hoping she wasn’t overstepping her boundaries, but she was pleasantly surprised that they wanted to go. So Mina headed that way at the time they scheduled, anxiety and excitement mixing a bit inside her. This would be fun, it would. It wasn’t going to be like last time. There was no Dad to yell at her about getting them thrown off the job, no training to endure the next day. Just a bit of fun with a new friend. Acquaintance. Stranger on the internet that she hoped would become a friend. Parking outside the casino, Mina walked up, and, seeing someone sitting on a bench, slowed a bit. As the person introduced themselves to be Remmy, Mina smiled timidly. “Yes, I’m-- Yes. It’s really lovely to meet you, Remmy!” she said. Then, she looked at the door. “Want to head in?”

 Remmy brightened as Mina introduced herself, glad they’d gotten it right. Smiling, they nodded. “I’m glad you asked me to come! I think I could use a normal, fun night, you know?” they greeted, standing up to shake her hand. “And it’s uh, it’s good to meet you! Finally.” They nodded. “Right, yeah! Let’s-- let’s head inside! You’re um-- you’re 21, right? I mean, I guess you’d have to be if you’ve been kicked out of a casino before, so-- never mind. Forget I asked. Uh-- yeah. Inside!” They stumbled up to the door and held it open for her, giving a little gesture for her to go in first, following suit. It was decently loud inside, and it looked much larger inside than the building looked outside. Remmy wondered how people did that, and tried to make a mental note to ask Nate about that later. He’d surely know. “So, where should we start? Blackjack or poker?” they asked, hands sliding into pockets after they adjusted the eye patch. 

Nodding, Mina had to agree. “Same here. It’s been… decidedly less normal, lately.” Though, she wasn’t quite sure what normal was, not really. She laughed a bit as Remmy asked her about her age, though not meanly. “I’m 23, don’t worry!” She thanked them for getting the door and looked around the casino with wide eyes. Loud but low lit and unlike the more glitzy casino she’d been inside in Vegas, there weren’t a ton of flashing lights and slot machines in The Stacked Deck, making the atmosphere just a bit more tolerable to Mina. She bounced a bit on her feet, looking from the blackjack table to the the poker table, trying to decide which game to play first (hopefully they wouldn’t get kicked out after the first round). “Ahh, blackjack. Wait! No, poker. No! Wait-- I can’t decide.” She turned and noticed Remmy adjusting their eyepatch and felt a bit of sympathy. She wouldn’t ask about it; she’d had to answer enough concerned questions about scars and bruised to know not to ask about certain things, but the eyepatch didn’t seem particularly comfortable to them. “What do you think?”

Remmy noticed Mina’s indecision and felt a little bit of familiarity. They’d always been indecisive, too and they gave a small chuckle. “Well, why don’t we start with blackjack and work our way up to poker? It’s technically easier,” they suggested, tapping Mina lightly on the shoulder and pointing towards the blackjack table. “Here, you go get us some seats, I’ll get us some chips. First round is on me, okay?” They smiled again before heading off. So far, they really liked Mina. She was nice online and even nicer in person. She even had a cute face. They collected their tokens (a hundred dollars worth each) and headed back to the table, setting them down where Mina had found them a spot. “Oh, man, I’m pretty excited. I haven’t played in so long. What about you? Excited? 

Grabbing their seats at the table, Mina bounced her leg under the table as she waited for Remmy to return with the chips. Should she win a few rounds, she’d be sure to pay back what they spotted her for the first round. A few of the other players, one gruff looking gentleman in particular, eyed her a bit before snorting and looking at his watch. It was a bit rude, but not entirely unexpected. As Remmy joined her, Mina gave them a smile and collected her stack of chips. If she could play this correctly, and she was quite sure she could, and if she and Remmy could figure out a way to work together, she hoped that they could both double their little stack quickly. “I’m quite excited, too, yes!” And Mina was! She was thrilled to be doing this with Remmy, and, as the rude man guffawed out a laugh, she was thrilled about that, too. There was a part of her that she rarely liked that enjoyed mischief and tricking people, and she had no doubt that she’d enjoy tricking and beating this man. He seemed to underestimate both her and Remmy, and she was certain that was a mistake.

As Remmy sat back down, they glanced at the table. A colorful little collection of people, but the gruff man’s rudeness was lost on them. They just gave a little nod before setting their stack up and making sure it was all even and neat before shooting Mina a little thumbs up. Finally, the dealer started passing out cards. There were five people at the table, so round one meant ten cards. When he got to Remmy’s right side up card, they were dealt a ten. The odds of the card underneath being anything above a ten was a low percentage. “Hit me,” they said, and the dealer flipped them over a five. “I’ll stay,” they said, and he moved on to Mina. Remmy watched with wide eyes, wondering what she would do, the odds already calculating in their head again.

Looking at the dealer’s visible card, Mina saw a six. Remmy’s fifteen was good, the person next to them had split two eights, and the gruff guy at the end was sitting at a sixteen with a nine and a seven. This wasn’t like Vegas, where there’d been six decks being dealt at a time, but she knew not to underestimate a smaller deck, despite easier ability to count cards. The dealer laid down her first card: a two. Her second card: a jack. “Hit me,” she murmured, feeling confident in a mid-range card. A five. Seventeen. Mina shook her head. “I’ll stay.” Now all they needed was the dealer to bust. Blackjack was what had gotten her in a bunch of trouble, before because she’d ripped the casino out of a lot of money. That’s when people had started noticing that she was kind of playing the system. Not cheating; Mina’s never been able to understand why using her own brain would be considered cheating. But she did know that people didn’t like it when you beat them at their own game.

Remmy was sitting on a three as their face down card, and they watched with bated eyes as the rest of the table called their bets. When it came time for the dealer to go, he flipped-- he had a seven and a nine. He would definitely hit, sixteen was less than three of the other hands on the table. The probabilities were adding up in Remmy’s head when he flipped his deal and-- a four. “Damn,” came the muttered curses from the others around the table as they all pitched in their bets. Remmy looked over at Mina and shrugged. “Next time,” they said, shifting in their seat as he began to deal out the next round. Remmy gave a little nervous smile to the man at the end of the table, who just grunted and picked up his card. Remmy saw him give just the slightest twitch of a smile, before putting his card down. They tilted their head, then went to pick up their next card.

Within a few rounds, between the two of them, Mina and Remmy were doing rather well. Perhaps a bit too well. The dealer was getting a bit frustrated, particularly when Mina decided to have a bit of fun and double down on the times she knew she was going to get a good hand, and once or twice, when they’d more than doubled their earnings, she’d bet high on a round she knew she wasn’t going to win, smiling at the dealer the entire time. There was nothing against it, and Mina was playing to pay Remmy back, not to hit it big. She was playing games for her own benefit, indulging herself, and it was fun. Perhaps a bit too fun. She and Remmy won a few too many hands, and the dealer was getting suspicious, and one of the guys at their table had stormed off, so Mina figured they should probably head over to play poker. She’d gotten Remmy’s attention and jutted her chin towards the poker table. As the two of them got up, Mina glanced up and, out of the corner of her eye, saw… herself? Hiding in the back corner, near the restrooms No, nope, she didn’t see herself. Because she didn’t have a twin, there was only one Wilhelmina Fitzroy, and she was right here. So there wasn’t. But there was because they made eye-contact, and the other Mina grinned, sharp teeth showing, body in black and white stripes. Mina looked at her mirror image, then at Remmy, then back at her mirror image. “Poker?” she squeaked out. “We should play poker.”

Remmy was excited to watch their earnings grow, happy to see how easily they were able to work together, as if knowing just what the other was thinking while they played. They hadn’t felt this carefree in a long time, and after their meltdown with Skylar the other night, this was helping make their chest feel a little less heavy. A little less like it was filled with lead. When she suggested moving over to poker, Remmy glanced up, noticing the annoyance in some of the peoples’ faces. Oh. “Right, yeah! L-let’s head to poker,” they agreed, following them away from the table and towards the back, not noticing her pause as they made their way through the casino. They’d almost reached the table when they noticed Mina was lagging behind. “Hey, everything okay?” But she was already catching up and Remmy shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, we’re going. You uh-- you sure you’re okay?” They asked. “Do you want a drink? I can go get us some drinks.”

“I--” Mina couldn’t even force the lie out, feeling it shrivel up on her tongue and die in her stomach. “I saw something rather… strange. I’d like to forget about it, truthfully.” She looked back over to where she’d seen… herself. There was nothing there, unsurprisingly. Perhaps it was stress. Finals, both for herself and for the students she tutored, were stressful, as was all the inner turmoil she’d been going through, and then there was her dad to think about. Yes, she was just seeing things. Mina was sure of it. She looked at Remmy, smiled a bit. “Right! Yes, drinks would be nice! Hold on.” She dug around in her purse, pulled out what she believed would be adequate money for both of them. “You bought our chips for the first round,” she said. “At least let me buy drinks.”

Remmy raised a brow. “Strange? Like what? There’s lots of strange things in this town, I think,” they said, then immediately backtracked, “but yeah, that-- that’s fine. We can just forget about it, yeah.” Though they couldn’t help their curiosity as to wonder what she’d seen. When Mina pulled out some money, Remmy shook their head. “No, it’s fine, really! I don’t go to school or pay rent so I’ve got a little extra to throw around, promise. Plus, this is, like, a good thing to spend money on. You can pay me back by just having a good time, okay?” They smiled their best before heading off towards the bar as the dealer set up for a round of poker. The truth was that they had a lot of extra money lately, what with all their winnings from the Ring beginning to stack up. Remmy had never wanted for much, so now, with the money piling up, they were looking for excuses to spend it. After they ordered two drinks, they stood to the side to allow the bartender to make them, when they noticed a pool of black something on the table next to them. Reaching out, Remmy prodded it with a napkin before touching it. It was cool and sticky and when they tried to rub it off, it seemed to seep into their skin, dying the tips of their fingers black. “What the…” they started, but were interrupted when the bartender called out their drinks-- a rum and coke and a just coke-- and decided to ignore it for now. Grabbed the drinks and headed back, giving Mina the hard drink. “How we looking?” they asked.

Periodically glancing back at the corner where she’d seen… herself, Mina was becoming more and more certain that she was imagining things. Still, this wasn’t sitting right with her. She also was a bit perplexed that Remmy wouldn’t let her pay; she figured there was supposed to be an equal exchange of things when people went out, but what did she know? Her voyages into having fun were, up until this point, strange and a bit negative. This had been fun, though, until she started seeing things. So, sitting at the poker table, waiting for Remmy and looking around anxiously, Mina bounced her leg rapidly under the table. When Remmy came back with their drinks, she smiled gratefully, grabbed hers, and took a sip, a bit surprised by the taste of alcohol, forgetting briefly that that’s usually what people meant when they said they were getting a drink at a bar. It was good, though. She liked the taste and the pleasant warmth of alcohol. “Ah, should be interesting,” she told Remmy, looking around the table for the first time. Glancing at them, she noticed the way their fingers were stained black. They hadn’t been like that before. “What happened?” she asked, motioning towards Remmy’s fingers.

“Oh, it was just someth--” Remmy started, but their voice caught for some reason. They paused. “It’s no--” they tried again, but their voice cut off short again, like something was caught in their throat. They blinked, cleared their throat. “S-sorry, must be something…stuck…” they took a long sip of their drink. It didn’t feel like anything was stuck, and they hadn’t eaten in a couple days, so there shouldn’t’ve been anything. Clearing their throat again, they looked over at Mina. “Let’s get back to the ga-a-ame,” they said, feeling their voice strain again, faltering as if it was hard to speak suddenly. Their face contorted and they immediately signed ‘Sorry’ without thinking. The rest of the table was looking at the pair and Remmy swallowed. “Sorry…” they said, and signed ‘Go ahead’.

More than a bit concerned for her new friend, Mina watched Remmy out of the corner of her eye for a bit as the dealer passed out their cards. It was a decent sized table, seven players including Mina and Remmy. Looking down at her cards, it took Mina far longer than normal to recognize what was going on. She was distracted, which was not a good way to be playing poker. Cards. She had a seven and a two. Bad hand, though she attempted to school her face into not showing it. She was worried about Remmy, though. Whatever was on their hand was concerning, and their voice was going? Did that happen often? Was that a human thing to happen? Mina didn’t get sick often, and she’d never lost her voice. It was worrisome to think that her new friend might be sick. And then there was that apparition that she was sure was there but also wasn’t sure was there that was wearing her face. She looked over to Remmy hoping their game was going better than hers.

Remmy wasn’t sure what losing your voice really felt like, but they were sure it’d feel like something, surely. The game continued on for a bit, but their concentration was waning, the more they thought about it, the more they noticed the black still stuck to their fingers. After a few hands, they looked over at Mina, opened their mouth to ask if they could leave a little early-- and nothing came out. Not even a strain. Not a single peep. Bewildered, they blinked back their shock. Tried again. Nothing. They glanced around the table, making sure it wasn’t just their hearing that had gone out. Finally, they nudged Mina a bit and gave her a look, typing on their phone, ‘Don’t feel good, can we split?’ before folding their hand and gathering up what remained of their tokens. They wished they could say sorry, tried to sign it instead, but weren’t sure anyone understood, let alone Mina. Sulked towards the doors once she joined them, unsure of how to explain themself. 

As soon as Remmy had shown her their phone, Mina had already decided to fold and look at the dealer. She gathered up her chips, cashed in, and joined Remmy as they went outside. She knew Remmy had been signing, could kind of make out the meanings, but sign language had never been something she’d picked up, especially not ASL. That was something she’d need to rectify soon. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” she told them. “Your voice. Does it come and go sometimes? Or are you feeling sick?” Could humans catch illnesses that quickly? Mina knew the answer was probably a yes, but she grew up with hunters with strong constitutions, and she herself only ever felt poorly after an injury. Knife nicks, iron burns, that kind of thing. She was thinking about injuries as they walked when a striped person came out at them, throwing itself at Mina before Remmy had the chance to respond. Mina gave a yelp, attempting to get her assailant off of her, when she came face to face with… herself??

‘Sometimes,’ Remmy started to sign, then remembered Mina couldn’t understand it. So, instead, they typed it again on their phone. The last time this had happened, the last time Remmy had “lost” their voice, hadn’t been that long ago. The doctor’s had said it was a response to the trauma. They’d stared silently, unable or unwilling, to say anything in protest. And then they’d laid in bed staring at the ceiling for hours. Nothing felt right to say back then. And maybe...maybe that was what it was now. ‘Sorry,’ they typed again with a little frowny face. ‘Haven’t been feeling well for a while.’ But before they could type out anything else, someone was leaping from the shadows at them. They tackled Mina down and Remmy jumped back, crying out for help. But-- their voice. Clenching their teeth, Remmy looked around in a panic. There was no one else around, and they couldn’t just leave Mina. Reaching out with a strength they probably should have kept to themself, Remmy wrenched the assailant off of Mina, only to find that it was Mina attacking her. Wait, what? Hadn’t Blanche mentioned something about copies of people attacking them? Remmy reached out through their hazy memory to try and remember, but couldn’t. Instead, the Mina who had attacked was clawing at them, shoving them away and going for regular Mina again. Remmy tried to call out but found their voice lost once again. 

The first thing that occured to Mina was that Remmy was strong, being able to rip the other Mina off of her. The other Mina, who smiled with sharp teeth under her grease paint and whose arms were covered in strange, black and white striped scales. Mina felt herself pale, taking in this creature, this embodiment of the monster she feared becoming. She felt sick, like she’d told a thousand lies that anyone could see through, and, when the creature freed itself from Remmy’s grasp and charged again at Mina, she still wasn’t prepared. She had no weapon, no iron knife tucked into her boot, no gun in her back pocket. She just let the other Mina lash out. Feeling claws rake themselves against her cheek. Then, the other Mina mimed as if she was holding a knife and slashed out. It burned like iron, but there was nothing there. Crying out, Mina finally found her fight. Pulling at her mimey mirror’s hair to try and get her off. She somehow managed to keep herself from showing her own fangs and claws, but Mina knew she could only keep going at this for so long until her defense mechanisms kicked in. She needed Remmy to get out before they got hurt. “Run! Run!” She struggled to get out. “She wants me, not you!”

At this point, there was no way Remmy was running. Mina and the evil clone were tussling and Mina was very obviously losing. She was barely even fighting back. It reminded Remmy too much of themself, and suddenly they were back in all those moments where they’d chosen to not fight back. Where’d they’d chosen to not raise their fist. Back then, there’d always been someone around to save them, to step in for them. But here, now-- there wasn’t. Because Mina was Remmy and Remmy was the one who had to step in. It was in that moment that they were profoundly aware of what protecting people really meant-- it wasn’t about abstaining from violence or putting yourself in harm’s way for them. It was about doing whatever it took to make sure they were safe, even if it went against your own beliefs. In the next moment, a fist was flying, with a strength that could pierce brick walls. It collided with the evil Mina’s chest with a loud CRACK! That sent her flying off good Mina and into the side of a car, sliding to a slump, a literal dent where Remmy’s fist had connected. ‘Not human!’ they mouthed at Mina, scrabbling to help her stand up, worry wrought on their face as they noticed her wounds. ‘Let’s go!’ Tugging her away from the scene, and away from the clone, making sure to keep their body between her and the demon. Maybe this was what they were put on this earth for-- to do whatever it took to save their friends. Maybe this was why the universe had bitten them and no one else.

Jaw dropping from the way Remmy had managed to get the mime off of her, Mina could only stare as her friend as they dragged her away from the creature with her face. ‘Not human!’ Mina thought that’s what she’d made out from what Remmy had mouthed. No, the creature wasn’t human. Or was it that Mina wasn’t human? Her head was spinning. It only made sense that they’d figure out, especially with the way the other her had looked. They were so strong, too. Were they… “Are you a hunter?” Mina asked them breathlessly. “My father-- I was raised by a hunter. I’m supposed to be-- I know a great deal about hunters, and you’re-- I mean you just-- Thank you.” She looked over Remmy’s shoulder but couldn’t see the creature anymore. “I don’t think--” She didn’t think she could have hurt it. Not when it looked like her, moved like her. “It was me,” she said instead, quietly, both in shock and a bit of fear. It was her, the worst parts of her, fully on display for the world and just as awful as she’d always imagined. At least it was attacking her and not someone on the street. She hoped Remmy had put it down, made sure it couldn’t harm anyone ever again. The phantom knife had caught her where her shoulder and neck met, leaving a nasty, aching burn, but she was grateful that was the only real damage. “Thank you, Remmy,” Mina said again, hoping her new friend knew how grateful she was.

Remmy didn’t stop running until they were far, far away from the lot, halfway down the road to downtown. Mina was babbling things, trying to tell Remmy something, but their ears were ringing and they couldn’t concentrate on everything she was saying. When they finally slowed to a stop, they turned to look at her, barely winded, even from all of that. ‘Not you,’ they typed quickly. ‘B said they’re clones. Mime clones. Trying to kill people.’ Lowered their phone when Mina thanked them again, staring at her in a sort of muted silence. After a moment, they signed ‘Thank you’ to her, shoulders drooping just a bit. They should correct her, but somehow, they didn’t have the heart to. Nor the energy. Instead, they just nodded, and pointed towards the road, in a gesture they hoped she would understand as ‘Let’s go home,’ and ‘I’ll walk you’. Because there was no way they were leaving her alone, now. They almost even felt compelled to ask if she wanted them to stay with her. After all, it wasn’t as if they had much of a home to go back to anymore.

Not really knowing who B was or anything about these mime clones, Mina simply nodded as she read Remmy’s message. “Okay. Okay.” She tried to slow her breathing, her heart rate. Not her, but a mime that looked like her wasn’t incredibly reassuring. What was with this cursed town and mimes? She’d never cared for them before, but this? Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. She shut her eyes tightly before rubbing at them with her hands. “I-- I wouldn’t have been able to stop it,” she said. I’m so weak that I can’t take down a killer version of myself, she didn’t say. She wondered, momentarily, if killing it would have upheld her promise. It didn’t matter, in the end. As Remmy seemed to motion to walk her home, Mina shakily pulled out her keys. “I live near the lake. Too far of a walk. But we can go to my car, and I can drive you home? As a thank you?” She didn’t want to be left alone. Not at the moment. Not while she was still shaking with adrenaline and anxiety and fear.

Feeling more than a little weak as she did it, Mina gave Remmy a slight nod, her eyes just a bit glassy and red. She needed to get in the water, find a way to heal, but she didn’t want to be alone, even if it meant being with someone she barely knew, even if it meant exposing herself just a bit more. But either Remmy didn’t notice what she was, or they didn’t care, despite the fact that she figured they were a hunter. Maybe the hunters around here were lax, what with all the supernaturals around her just running loose. This wasn’t the supernatural hunting grounds that her father had thought it would be; at least, not in the way he thought it would be. She thought about this as they walked to the car. As they got in, and she began to drive, Mina said, feeling a bit like a broken record, “Thank you.” At this point, she didn’t know what she was thanking them for.

Remmy finally noticed the shake in Mina’s hands when she pulled out her keys and they jingled. They blinked, looked around, then typed quickly on their phone ‘I can stay with you, if you want,’ quickly, giving Mina a soft look. If it comforted her, then they’d do it. Sure, they were new friends, but it was obviously Mina was trustworthy and that she was clearly in need of someone right now. And if they could provide that comfort for her, they would. 

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Sense8 AU

Ben's dad is a member of the French parliament (I don't know enough about French politics to give more detail.) He's been raised for politics with a silver spoon in his mouth, but his lifelong love of books and learning have left him with a head full of all kinds of less-than-legal information. You can only read about people doing the credit-card-to-open-locks thing so many times before you try it yourself, right?

Jay's situation is pretty much the same as it is in canon. He's a thief who works for a very greedy and abusive father. His dad owns a pawn shop as a front for moving a number of very rare and priceless artifacts to select buyers. Jay's jobs are mostly high-end: museums, art galleries, stuff like that. But he does occasionally do some smaller burglary or pick pocketing just for fun. I can't decide if he should be from the Middle East or India because Argrabah is kind of culturally both, so.

Mal is a street artist first and a forger second. She lives alone in a technically-abandoned building in Chicago where she spends most of her time carefully making fake classic paintings to sell in exchange for ridiculous sums of money because rich people are stupid. Her mom is a fugitive and bailed a few years ago, Mal hasn't seen her since. She's more than capable of taking care of herself, thanks.

Evie is a German beauty pageant star, and has been since she was six. Her mother's obsession with beauty is inescapable, but at least Evie's pretty face comes in handy for distracting and manipulating people when she needs to get a breath of air. Not to mention snagging a rich husband so she can finally move out of her mother's house and get the hell out of dodge.

Carlos lives in Milan, the son of a washed-up fashion designer who likes to vent her frustrations on her son. He's skipped a couple grades due to excellent marks, and his skills with mechanics and programming get him into almost as much trouble as they get him out of. He's more of an inventor than a hacker, but he can he can do it if he needs to.

Uma is Jamaican, and she'll be dropping out of highschool at the end of the year to start officially training to be an Olympic swimmer. Her mom owns a restaurant that's quickly going under, and between being forced to work all hours or even skip school days to help her mom and her dedication to trying to get decent grades, Uma barely has time to breathe, much less set foot in the water anymore. But she knows what she wants, and she's already forged her mom's signature on a lot of papers to give her coach legal rights to her time.

Harry is the son of a Scottish fisherman, and spends most of his time out on the water with his dad. He can drink half the crew under the table, and when they're on land he hits up most of the nearby pubs, plays a few games of poker and cleans out the pockets of as many suckers as he can. He usually gets caught cheating before the nights up, but that's part of the fun, honestly. Nothing like a knives-drawn, broken-bottle barfight to get the blood up! Some nights Harry goes back to the boat with split knuckles, and sometimes he crawls his way there with cracked ribs. Either way, he probably won the fight.

Gil is French-Canadian and works at his dad's tavern after school, and volunteers his summers as a camp counselor, goes hunting on some weekends, does boxing at the local gym on others. He's good with animals, better with people, popular and well-liked even if he isn't the smartest guy around. Yeah, Gaston gets punchy when he's drunk, but it's whatever. Gil is turning eighteen soon, and he's already got his eye on a place. He's hardworking, good with his hands. Good with guns, too, and any kind of outdoorsy survival stuff. If all else fails he'll just pack a bag and disappear into the woods for a while.

They all see each other for the first time when Ben is in the middle of a Very Important interview his dad arranged for him. One minute Ben is sitting stiffly in the office, the next he's huddled in the handicap stall of a public bathroom, shoulder-to-shoulder with seven strangers and looking down on a woman he's never met before but somehow knows all the way down in his bones. She's harried and exhausted, like she's been running herself too thin for a long time, skipping too many meals. Even travel-weary and thin she's smiling at Ben, at the others, her eyes bright with love.

There are two other people with her. A man with golden skin and dark eyes, dark hair, and another woman pale as winter with white blond hair. "I can see them," the first woman says. "I can see them. They're beautiful."

In the next second Ben is back in the office, shaking and exhausted on his knees, and the room is spinning, spinning, around him, rushing -- The migraine hits him like a truck. The lights are suddenly bright enough to blind him, the sound of the door opening, footsteps, his name being called -- it makes his head feel like it's being split down the middle. His dad's hand lands on his shoulder and everything goes dark.

[everysongineverykey]

WARNING! LEGACY SPOILERS!!

The table came crashing onto the floor with a smashing of wood and a scream, the owner of whom was difficult to identify. Tam, the person who had thrown it, threw up his hands in angry defense.

“For the last time, a hot dog is not a fucking sandwich!” he yelled, his eyes ablaze with fury.

Sophie furiously scrambled to her feet. No. He wasn’t going to have the last word. Not on her watch.

“IF A HOT DOG ISN’T A SANDWICH, THEN BIANA’S NOT A VANISHER, YOU… YOU…” she fumbled for a good insult.

“Crusty, silver-eating, bad rip-off of a hot topic clerk?” Keefe suggested helpfully.

“YEAH!” Sophie screamed. “AND IF YOU CAN’T UNDERSTAND BASIC LOGIC, THEN LET’S LOOK IN THE ELF!” She strode to the bookshelf and pulled out The Elf’s Comprehensive Dictionary And Thesaurus, Approved And Created By Councillor Bronte, Language Enthusiast, or TECDATAACBCBLE officially. Or again, as an easier name the ten of them had made up themselves, The Elf.

“By the power vested in me by The Elf’s Comprehensive Dictionary And Thesaurus, Approved And Created By Councillor-” (“Just say The Elf!” whined Marella) “-Bronte, Language Enthusiast,” Sophie continued angrily, flipping through The Elf’s many pages, “I hereby pronounce that a hot dog shall henceforth be known by all the Lost Cities as a form of sandwich, as proven by… THIS DEFINITION!”

She slammed the book down onto the couch and triumphantly stabbed a finger at the definition of “sandwich.” Linh bent her head and read it out loud-

“An item of food consisting of two pieces of bread with meat, cheese, or other filling between them, usually as a light meal.”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. For a second Tam looked like he was moments away from grabbing Sophie, who was now sitting smugly on the couch staring at him, and throttling the life out of her and everyone else in the room.

And then he sighed and closed his eyes, smiling slowly when he opened them again.

“All right, Sophie. You’ve given me some very solid proof. Well done you.”

Sophie looked so smug that even Keefe wanted to wipe that stupid smile off her face.

Tam walked calmly, almost happily, over to the far corner of the room, and turned around, admiring a painting on the wall. Then he suddenly turned to the others again and smiled with the air- at least, Sophie thought so- of a TV movie villain who was about to reveal his secret identity to the heroes.

“It was very clever, you know, pulling out The Elf like that. I don’t know if I would’ve thought of that. A real kid genius, that’s you.” He said all this while straightening a few ornaments on the mantelpiece absentmindedly, not looking at any of them. Still smiling. “I suppose now I should admit defeat.”

“That’d be appropriate, yes,” said Sophie, still smug, but more cautious. She didn’t like the way Tam was acting.

“But,” he continued, finally turning to face them, “I’m afraid there’s one crucial fact you’ve overlooked.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

Tam picked up The Elf and flipped to a different page.

“You see, my dear Sophie, if we are using The Elf as our source, then we must heed all its definitions, and if we do that, we must remember…”

He suddenly exploded, shoving The Elf in Sophie’s face and pointing to another definition, his face convulsed with anger, his previous attitude vanished without a trace.

“THAT IT DEFINES A HOT DOG AS A FUCKING FRANKFURTER!”

He threw The Elf across the room, shattering an expensive vase sitting on a shelf. Sophie leapt to her feet, angry and flustered.

“But- But that doesn’t mean anything!” she blustered desperately. “A frankfurter could be considered filling!”

“OH FUCKING REALLY?” Tam demanded. He knew he had the upper hand. “THEN LET’S ASK THE ELF, SHALL WE?” He raced towards the shelf where the book had been thrown, but Sophie was determined to win the argument and threw her entire body weight on him, knocking them both to the floor. A mad fistfight followed. Dex managed to avoid their flailing limbs and picked up the book calmly, flipping to the f section.

“GUYS!” he yelled. Sophie and Tam did not look up. Tam had two black eyes by now, and Sophie was struggling to avoid another punch to her split lip. Dex was pretty sure he also saw a gap in her teeth that wasn’t there the day before.

He gave up trying to get their attention, and read out the definition of frankfurter. 

“A seasoned smoked sausage made of beef and pork.”

Silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of Tam and Sophie’s bloody brawl.

“Well, that didn’t solve anything,” grumbled Dex, closing The Elf. Suddenly, Biana’s eyes lit up.

“Wait a minute- hey, Sophie?”

Sophie did not answer.

“Tam? Sophie? Guys?”

Neither of them paid any attention to her calls- they were both battered and bruised all over, but still fighting.

Biana sighed, then walked over to Dex.

“Dex,” she said, calmly and professionally, “on the count of three, would you be a dear and hold Sophie down? I’ll grab Tam.”

Dex acquiesced. 

At the number, they both dropped to the ground and grabbed their assigned person’s arms- Dex hooked his around Sophie’s, stopping her from punching, and Biana did the same with Tam.

“What the hell’re you doing?” growled Sophie. Her hair was disheveled, and some of it had clearly been ripped out in chunks.

“There’s no need for this anymore,” Biana said, remaining as calm and collected as ever. “I’ve figured it out.”

They both stopped resisting.

“Fihured wha ou?” said Tam. Clearly his bruised tongue was giving him trouble.

“I know what a hot dog is.”

The room fell silent again.

“Now, if you’ll both get up and stop fighting, I’ll explain.”

They both reluctantly got to their feet and stumbled over to the couch. The others stared at them, a little scared. Biana stood up and cleared her throat.

“The Elf defines a sandwich as two pieces of bread with filling between them. A hot dog bun, however, is only one piece of bread.”

Sophie’s first instinct was to jump to her feet, but she controlled herself.

“Therefore, we must conclude that a hot dog… is not a sandwich.”

Sophie did not control herself this time. Biana put a hand up to stop her. Surprisingly enough, it worked.

Tam looked like a seven-year-old who had just proven that his dad was the coolest.

“In fact,” continued Biana, “it is something entirely different.”

Everyone raised their eyebrows.

“But- but what else could it possibly be?” asked a confused Wylie.

“It’s a taco,” said Biana, with all the foolish confidence of Don Quixote.

All of the others turned furious eyes on her, and in a matter of seconds Biana was down on the floor being beaten and battered by the rest of the kids, who were all chanting “NOT A TACO! NOT A TACO! NOT A TACO!”

Marella set a poker on fire and was about to beat Biana with it when the door opened.

“Hey, everyone, sorry I’m-”

Fitz couldn’t even finish his sentence when he beheld the scene before him. Keefe raced towards him and pinned him to the wall.

“Quick!” growled Keefe, “What’s a hotdog?”

All eyes were on Fitz.

“…Isn’t it that thing with the sausage in the bun that you usually eat for breakfast?”

Grady and Edaline came home that day to find the entire house destroyed, Marella hurling fireballs at everyone, Fitz and Biana lying unconscious in  the rubble, Linh trying to drown everyone, Tam unleashing shadowflux, Wylie burning people with the light of a million suns, Sophie inflicting all manner of pain onto her friends, Keefe throwing goblin throwing stars left and right, and Dex shooting all kinds of guns and using all kinds of weapons that he himself had built. Keefe had been heard to yell “MY MOM’S IN THE FUCKING NEVERSEEN, BITCHES, DON’T FUCK WITH ME!” while Linh seemed to be speaking some ancient sea language that was definitely summoning krakens as she chanted. Sophie might have been speaking in biblical tongues, but it wasn’t clear. Her voice was strangled and confusing. She was definitely being possessed, though, by… something. Marella was chanting in the ancient tongue of Pyrana, the great elven goddess of fire and fury, and was summoning what looked to be demons. The krakens and the demons began to fight at this point. Wylie, meanwhile, appeared to be pulling actual stars out of the sky and throwing them at people, screaming, “MY DAD DIDN’T ALMOST DIE FOR THIS SHIT!” 

Dex was just singing Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger very loudly.

They were all exiled to an Atlantian prison colony in the Mariana Trench a couple days later, and they never did come to an agreement over the identity of a hot dog.

[trojantoast]

“The Love, The Dark, The Light, The Flame” - Zutara Week 2019

Day One “Gifts”

“I've been through the desert and I've been across the sea I've been walking through the mountains and wandered through the trees for her I have been trying to find her want to give what I got She lit a fire, but now she's in my every thought”

- “She Lit a Fire” Lord Huron

@zutaraweek  

“She’ll be here soon, you need to calm down Sparky.” The laughter in Toph’s voice, though familiar, was not appreciated.

“I’m completely calm.” Zuko gritted out, not missing her pronoun use, but not denying where his concern was focused.

“And I’m a flying purple hog monkey.”

Zuko grumbled and paced the foyer again. “They should be here by now.”

“Twinkle Toes probably stopped to go sightseeing, or ride a terrifying monster, or something equally as time-wasting, on his way to Ba Sing Se.” Toph leaned against a nearby table, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling, absentmindedly spinning her meteorite bracelet between her fingers.

Zuko could barely contain his nerves. He wasn’t surprised they were late. In his seven years of knowing Aang, the avatar had never proven himself to be the most punctual of people, nor the most accurate, so the fact that the “noon arrival” had turned into a late afternoon arrival was not shocking.

Still, Zuko paced.

“Sparky, you need to take a chill pill Aang-” 

“Lord Zuko? The Avatar's bison has been spotted over the hills.” A servant entered with a polite bow. Zuko’s heart jumped to his throat, perking up at the news. He remembered when those words would send a much different emotion rocketing through veins. But now he greeted them with a warm feeling, that could only be described as joy.

Toph joined him as he charged through the front door into the peaceful courtyard beyond. A white blur crested his vision with a deep bellow.

“See Sparky, there was nothing to be worried about.”

Zuko smile to himself as the great beast landed with a gust of wind. Without thinking Zuko’s gaze combed Appa’s saddle, looking for a flash of hair, or the familiar expression on her brow. Before he could get a good look he was blown over by a very energetic hug from Aang. 

Over the years the avatar had grown tall and lanky, now standing at a solid six foot. To Zuko’s quiet relief he hadn’t yet passed Zuko in stature. 

“Hi Aang.” the airbender released him with a grin. 

“Sorry we were a little late, I tried to ride the Unagi again.”

“Told ya.” Zuko didn't miss Toph’s smug comment.

“It was wild! I almost got eaten!” he looked down bashfully, “...again.” Aang turned to Toph and began to recite a play-by-play description of the encounter. Zuko looked up again to see Sokka slide, gracelessly, off Appa’s saddle and stride towards the group. 

“How’s my favorite Fire Lord!” He shouted. 

Aang had not gotten taller than Zuko, but the firebender couldn’t say the same for Sokka. At the start of the twenties, Sokka began to favor his father and was now distictly buff. The two men greeted each other with a warriors handshake that evolved into a strong embrace. They separated and Zuko met Sokka’s cooky smile,

 “I’m good, how’s Suk-”

“Hey Sokka! A little help here?!” immediately Zuko’s attention was drawn to the achingly familiar voice from atop Appa’s saddle. She was attempting to help a heavily pregnant Suki down, who was halfway hanging off the animal looking very nervous.

“Here I've got it!” a small gust of wind gently carried Suki to the ground with a puff of dust. 

“Thanks Aang!” Sokka’s wife said brightly. 

Zuko froze as Katara smoothly slid down one of Appa’s legs and brushed off her skirts, their eyes met. Before he had time to do anything else, Katara had crossed the distance and was hugging him, pressed against his chest.

Her hair smelled like rosemary. Her figure fit into his like a tailored glove, strong shoulders fit snugly under his arms, head tucked into the curve of his neck. Warmth flooded his chest. They seperated quickly but their gazes did not split. 

Katara was dressed in sea green, a loose two piece that flowed in the breeze. Her hair billowed around her, providing a sharp contrast to the pale fabric. She was just as stunning as he remembered, and the small moment, standing so close to he, made his heart jump. Her eyes, as round and hopeful as ever, bewitched him. He prayed she would never look away. 

“When you two are done making googly eyes at each other I want a tour, Zuko.” 

Zuko’s face turned beet red at Sokka’s suggestion, he turned away clearing his throat, a part of him stayed though, in that moment. 

What Zuko didn’t see was the way that Katara’s eyes lingered on his face as he led the group inside. 

 When Zuko had talked about renovating the beach house Katara had imagined fresh paint, maybe some pruning, or perhaps a new front door. It turned out “renovating” included adding a new wing and knocking out multiple walls to create a sprawling campus of rooms connected with hallways crowned with floor to ceiling windows. The interior was painted white, each room was filled with plants and fresh air, color was added with intricate rugs, paintings, and tapestries. The difference was astounding, the clearly abandoned house of the past, covered in dust, and filled with uneasiness, like you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be and someone could walk in at any moment, had changed into a welcoming estate surrounded by the sea. 

Some things hadn't changed too much. The second story, the private quarters of the Fire Lord and his guests, was the same. The addition of open windows and a good dusting removed the greyness from the last time Katara had been there.

“I assumed you all would want the same rooms as last time, your things were already moved in...if that's alright.” Zuko trailed off at the end and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly nervous. Katara  reached out and rested her hand on his arm, something in his eyes was hopeful when they met hers,

“That’s wonderful Zuko, the house is stunning, you did a fantastic job.” he smiled sweetly at her.

“Actually Zuko, I was wondering if I could switch with- ow! Nevermind! I love it buddy!” Katara heard the unmistakable sound of Suki pinching Sokka to make him be quiet.

 “Come on Sokka let's go unpack!”

“But Suki we just got here- OW! What was that one for?!” Katara hear the door of her brother and his wife's room slide closed.

“Hey Twinkle Toes I saw a really great spot to do some earthbending. I’ll show you!” 

In the blink of an eye, Katara and Zuko were alone in the hallway. 

“Oh, also,I like your haircut.”

 With a blush Zuko ran his hand through the long, fluffy hair on top of his head to the shorter pieces at the nape of his neck. “Really?”

The pair began to walk down the hallway towards their rooms. They fell into an easy gait beside each other. Katara took a closer look at it. The top was significantly longer than the underside, by Katara guess it was just long enough to pull into a Fire Lord crown. 

“Yeah, it really suits you, it's quite young.” 

Zuko snorted, “Thanks, I’ll let uncle know next time I see him, maybe we can match.”

Katara lifted her hand to her mouth and giggled, “What happened the long hair? I mean I can't say I miss it, you were threatening my throne for ‘best hair in team avatar’.”

He rolled his eyes, “we both know that award goes to Aang.” There was a beat of silence, and suddenly the hallway was filled with their laughter. It was easy, laughing with Zuko, familiar. Katara’s chest soared at his happiness.

“No...no..” Zuko tried to catch his breath, “I liked it until I woke up one morning and saw my father staring back at me.”   

They had reached their doors, and the mood shifted, though the remnants of their laughter clung to them.

Katara could picture it, staring at the mirror for a long moment, your stomach in your lungs and your heart in your throat. It happened to her the one time she tried on one of her mother's parkas. Katara reached out and squeezed his hand, the touch lingering. 

“Well the long hair wore you more than you wore it.” 

 “I guess you're right, it was hot anyway.” He smiled sadly and opened her door for her, not releasing her hand.

Katara squeezed his hand and let go walking part way into her room, “It’s really good to see you again Zuko, I miss you.”

His golden eyes held her blue ones evenly, “I missed you too Katara, the letters don’t do it justice.”

They stood there for a long moment, halfway in her bedroom, halfway out. The air, once playful, was still, like even nature itself was waiting, watching. Katara felt like something was supposed to happen, in this moment. But nothing came to her. Something deep inside her told her to reach out, for something, anything, to span the space between them. Don’t make it weird, she scolded herself. So she didn’t and crossed full way into the door. 

“Um, dinner is at seven. I’m cooking.” He broke the silence, the moment passed.

“Oh, that’s great!” She shook off an unfamiliar chill. 

“Oh, uh, Katara? I’m really glad you came.” his voice was quiet.

She turned to look at Zuko, “Me too.”

When the door closed, she felt the ghost of his hand in hers. 

By six thirty the smell of food lured almost everyone downstairs. Toph and Aang were considerably dirtier than before; and Zuko noticed that the rocks in the back garden where suspiciously moved about. The two earthbenders, and Sokka, had struck up a lively game of Fire Poker in the breakfast room, adjacent to the kitchen, where Zuko had banished them when they got in the way. According to Sokka’s shrill voice Toph was, “robbing them blind”. The irony of the accusation was not lost on the group, and Aang’s laugh could be heard throughout the house.

Suki had wandered down after a short nap and was flipping through some scrolls in one of the living rooms, in more comfortable seating then could be provided by the kitchen or the breakfast room. The Kyoshi warrior seemed to be taking the pregnancy well, but Zuko didn't know much about that sort of thing in the first place.

So Zuko flitted about the kitchen, enjoying the cathartic peace provided by cooking and the simple joy found in the voices of his friends. The kitchen was filled with wonderful smells and the sizzling of meat. 

“Don't put too many fire flakes on that komodo chicken, Sokka will get sick again.” Zuko looked up to see the friendly face of Katara leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. 

“Don’t worry, I made a seperate one without it for his sensitive stomach.” He gestured to the meat cooking on the stove. Katara chuckled quietly and walked farther into the kitchen peering over his shoulder as he cut vegetables. 

“Do you need any help?” She asked turning around and leaning against an empty bit of counter. 

“Not from you.” Zuko said absentmindedly. 

“Oh?” Realizing what he had said he looked up, panic to see Katara’s brow quirk accusingly, her arms crossed, “why ever not?” 

“Oh Agni, shit, that's not what I meant.” Zuko pancked. With a clatter, he dropped the knife on the cutting board throwing his hands up defensively, “I mean you cooked for us so many times, back during the war, it would be fair, oh.. Umm… Im so sorry.” He held the bridge of his nose, trying to control his brain, and his tongue, “I meant that since you would always cooked and did so much for us you should never have to cook again.” 

His heart beat a million miles a minute but he looked up to see a smile breaking through her now obvious disguise of anger.

“Zuko, its fine.” Katara nudged him out of the way and picked up his knife, cutting the vegetables where he had left off, “I like cooking.” 

“Really?” He asked, deciding to roll with her actions and raking the produce into a bowl.

She nodded, “In my tribe meals are communal, so is cooking. The bonding that happens as the women make dinner is a huge pillar of my culture. It starts young, I helped with my first meal when I was only three.” Zuko listened to her talk about her home as he began to saute the vegetables. “Different families host the meals each day, all the women go to the hostess’ house and help her cook for the village.”

“What do the men do?” Zuko turned and asked.

“Well,” Zuko was soon immersed in the cadence of her voice, “back when there were lots of men in the village they would hunt the animals used for meals, and then the woman would skin and prepare it for either storing for winter or for the days meal, while the warriors where catching the next days meat, so they would have something to come home to. But after my father left with his warriors, it was mostly women and children left, so me and Sokka would hunt for food in the morning and bring it back to prepare later. That’s actually what we were doing when we found Aang.”

Zuko remembered hearing the story years ago, something about Sokka ruining the canoe and Katara cracking open an ice shelf.

“Did it bother you,” Zuko searched for the right words, “that no one helped back during the war? Since cooking is communal?” 

She seemed to think about it for a while. The silence was comfortable, the gamblers in the other room had become a little quieter, but where now arguing about rules.

“I guess it did,” She finally said, “it wasn’t that I had to do it all by myself, it was just that everyone expected it to happen, without them lifting a finger.” 

“That makes sense.” Zuko said quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“There's nothing to talk about really, it was in the past,” She turned to smile at him, with that stunning grin, “And you’ve all made it up to me since then.”

Zuko smiled back at her, “So, if I helped cook when I visited the South Pole would I be disrespecting Gran Gran? Cause I would love to help, but crossing her is not a wise decision.”

Katara laughed at that, “Not at all, she would welcome the help, and like I said, you could bond with the tribes women!” 

“I would love nothing more in the world.” Zuko turned back to his vegetables, “well, since you're so bent on helping could you start dishing out the rice?”

It was one of the best meals that Katara had ever had. The group had lounged around the dining room table splitting probably too many bottles of rice wine, trading stories about the times they were apart. Katara had found herself leaning closer and closer to Zuko with each glass until their thighs pressed together and their heads touched when they bent to laugh.

“So Katara insisted she stay an extra day to help.” Toph’s voice was boisterous and friendly.

“Those people needed my help!” Katara said exasperated.

“Sugar Queen, we know you can’t resist a charity case, but I had to sail all the way to the Fire Nation alone on a wooden boat.”

“I think it's cool that Katara started a hospital all by herself in the lower ring.” Aang piped up. A sly smile spread across the airbender’s lips, “Even if Appa had to fly a thousand miles out of his way…”

“Aang…” Katara sighed.

“I’m joking! I’m joking!” Aang threw his hands in the air in surrender.

Her friends weren’t completely incorrect. The hospital in the lower ring was practically her child. After spending so much time in the capital city as ambasador between the Southern Tribe and the Earth Kingdom alongside Toph (who had been acting as an advisor, but soon grew tired of “stuffy nobles” and had opened her own bending school inside the city) Katara had felt useless and she needed to get her hands dirty. So she purchased an old run down mill in the lower ring and built a hospital from the ground up, even finding some waterbenders in the process. It was open twenty-four seven and was completely free. 

She found herself there when she wasn't with the Earth King, and more than once had gotten so involved she had stayed up for days trying to heal someone, or investigating a new disease or injury. Every patient was a new challenge and she reveled in it. But, Katara  would be lying if she said that she didn't get too invested. The legend of the Painted Lady had crossed into the city, in no small part to Katara’s over-enthusiasm. 

During her pondering the conversation had moved on but Zuko leaned over and whispered into her ear, “You can feel free to open up one of those in the Fire Nation, you will not be searching for funds.”

Katara leaned over to him in turn, “I’ll keep that in mind, Fire Lord.”

For the next hour or so the dinner slowly dissolved into chaos, the only sober one being Suki (because of the baby), who retired early during the third verse of Sokka’s half-drunken rendition of a watertribe jig. Katara and Zuko were only a little tipsy because they a) could hold their liquor and b) never were passed the wine because of their position at the table.

Soon, Katara could feel her eyes getting heavy with the exhaustion of the day, and its travels and she turned to Zuko, who was laughing at a joke Toph had just cracked.

“I’m going to bed,” she muttered and punctuated her statement with a yawn. Zuko turned to her quickly,

“Before you go, I want to give you something.” he stood up, brushing some crumbs off his tunic, and extended a hand to her. She took it.

“Give me what?”

“You’ll see, come on.” He led her back to the dark kitchen, still covered in the meals dishes. 

He dropped her hand and began digging around in the cupboards. Katara watched, patient, and curious.

“Here it is!” Zuko's dark head emerged, and in his hands he held a medium sized pot, a melancholy expression crossed his face, “This was my mothers rice pot.”

“Oh, Zuko I can’t…” She covered her mouth. He ran a gentle finger around the edge. 

“It really hit me, what you said about cooking being communal. My mother taught me how to cook rice in this pot, my father didn't like it, he thought it was a peasant’s chore, but it was our little secret. I want you to have it, so everytime you’re cooking alone you can know that I’m here, and my mom is here and you’re always with someone.”

Tears streaked down Katara’s face.

“Zuko I… I love it.” She took it in her hands, feeling the worn metal, used with love. She imagined Zuko’s tiny hands cooking with it, being guided by his mother's gentle ones, “are you sure?” Katara looked into his eyes, they were glistening but filled with happiness.

“I know she would want you to have it.”

...................................................................

I’m sorry for the quality (and posting so late). I wasn't happy with any of the ideas that I had and  literally wrote this entire thing and posted in the same day. But besides that I would like to introduce you to the first of my Zutara Week entries. They are all intertwining and are part of an overarching plot. Where the Gaang is back together on Ember Island on the anniversary of the comet. Also I will be posting them all together on AO3 and probably FF.net but that will come later.

[agustdef]

Here & Now - Chapter 5

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Fluff; Chill romance

Word Count: 3,273

Warning: None. It’s a little longer than the others. 

Banner Marker: @dee-ehn​

Off days were something I tried to take once every two weeks. Off days with a strict, no contact rule in place was a once a month thing, but the last month was so much that I needed a second one.

I wasn't allowed to do work, be asked about work or think about work. Either I sat home and did nothing or ventured out into the world to do something. The first day I slept, ate and caught up on some TV shows. It was so good I'd planned to do it again, but of course, that wasn't going down.

The moment my closest friends found out I was free they all had ideas on what to do, but I'd managed to dodge all of them. Sadly, Marcus liked to work against me. He was one of the few with a key to my home and he'd passed it on to Halsey. She broke into my house around noon with Yoongi.

I'd been standing in the middle of the kitchen singing along with Tiffany Evans' Promise Ring and drying off dishes when they appeared. As I was reaching to put the last plate in the cabinet the reflection in the glass showed them standing behind me. I nearly had a heart attack.

"Alexa, pause," I said, my voice shaky.

Turning around I became acutely aware of me being in a long shirt I'd had forever and pajama shorts that disappeared under it, but it was less important.

"What in the actual fuck people?"

At first, they just stared at me, Yoongi's poker face stronger than Hals. She broke first, laughing obnoxiously and then he followed suit. Almost making me piss myself something they found amusing.

My eyes narrowed and I crossed my arms over my chest. "Haha. Why are you here?"

After a few seconds, they collected themselves, wearing twin smiles. Hals had mischief in her eyes.

"You're off today, so we're doing something," she said.

Before I could open my mouth to protest she held up a hand and shook her head. "Nope. You told me you stayed in most of yesterday, so I know you're rested. Going out can be relaxing and good for you."

Again I wanted to shut her down, but she started pouting.

"Nothing crazy, I promise."

Sighing, I leaned against the counter and stared into her eyes. Nothing felt like I was being plotted against, but a lot of me didn't feel like venturing out into the world. My gaze shifted to Yoongi who'd taken a seat at the island. He just sat there and smiled.

"How did she rope you into this?"

He shrugged and Hals scoffed. "It was partly his idea."

My brow rose in shock and all my attention shifted back to him. His expression didn't change, he just shrugged again and continued smiling.

I had several questions, but I'd keep them to myself.

"Fine. You're right. Give me fifteen minutes."

With that I left them alone, dragging my feet to the bedroom. The situation didn't call for me to put in effort to look cute so I wouldn't. Though I'd say that I looked adorable most of the time without effort so whatever I wore would be fine. I snatched up some shorts, a Sailor Mercury top, and a flannel and threw them on.

Since I'd left the apartment only once the day before and that was to get my done I didn't have to do much. I always got it straightened to get it trimmed, so I whipped off my bonnet and carefully brushed it down from it's wrapped state. It fell the way I wanted so I left it be and wrapped a headband around my wrist just in case.

After going through my skincare routine and ensuring unchapped lips I ventured back out with my shoes in hand. Both of them had moved to the living room, playing on their phones.

"Ready."

They both glanced up at me, Halsey rising from the couch and messing with my hair. "It grew a lot in six months."

"Less split ends too. Lana actually sounded proud of me when she was explaining how much healthier it felt and looked."

"So switching braiders helped?" she asked.

"Yup."

All while we had our little conversation Yoongi stood there was a brow raised. He did that when we'd disappear into our own little world. As if he was intrigued with the way we interacted. It was honestly either very calm or very chaotic when it came to us. One could never be too sure what would go on.

"So, where are we going?" I asked, walking towards the door to slip on my shoes.

"Since someone here has people stalking him twenty-four seven," she paused and glared at Yoongi who just shrugged. "We're going a little far out to eat and walk a more isolated beach area. Hopefully, no one sees us, but if so it'll be fine."

"Statements ready in case," Yoongi added.

After grabbing my bag and phone from the table I swung the door open and motioned them out. As I locked the door something dawned on me.

"Wait, am I driving?"

They both paused and looked at each other than me. Hals smiled sweetly and Yoongi bit his lip, looking as he was fighting off laughter.

I groaned, tossing my head back. After a second I glared at her, but she maintained her "sweet" look. Yoongi finally let go of that chuckle and I could see on his face how prepared for this he'd been.

"One, I hate you." I then turned my attention to him. "Two, stop helping her. I thought we were closer than this Yoon."

With some fake sniffles on my part, I turned on my heel and stormed down the hall. My dramatics consistent until we'd reached the parking garage and my car.

Yoongi hopped into the front seat, all but shoving Hals out of the way to get it. Her sound of protest was so gentle I barely heard it, but it was still hilarious.

Once inside and with the car turned over I realized how warm it would be and was glad for air conditioning. There was no way I could put the windows down since the tint was the only thing stopping people from quickly spotting Yoongi.

With everyone buckled in, I pulled out of the spot and out of the parking garage. The car was silent for a while and then when we reached a stoplight Halsey was flinging herself between the seats to grab my phone. I slapped her hand and she reached again, but I moved it out of reach.

"What do you want?" I asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

"It's too quiet, we need music," she said.

She wasn't wrong, if I went too long in silence I'd be driven mad. Grabbing the phone I unlocked it, ensured it was paired with the car and went to my Spotify. Extending my arm I bypassed her hand and gave it to Yoongi. She grunted and sat back, probably rolling her eyes.

I'd only been able to catch a second of Yoongi's reaction before I had to pull off again. He appeared confused and then amused, taking the phone without question.

A minute or so passed before any sound filled the space and when it did my eyes went wide and I shook my head.

"Nope. Not that, change it." I tried to grab the phone, but he kept it out of reach.

"What? Don't like Thong Song? It's on your phone." He teased, like the butt he was.

In no way was I embarrassed by having the song, it had grown on me over the years; but my face did not agree. I could feel the burning of my cheeks and the mild discomfort in my stomach, but I pushed it down.

Clearing my throat I turned to him, eyes narrowed. "Different song or Hals gets control."

For a moment his thumb hovered over the phone as if he wasn't going to change it, but then he tapped the screen and a new song started. J. Cole's Cole World fills the space and my body relaxes.

It takes me getting to the freeway before I realize I had no clue where the heck we were going. Hals shrugs and Yoongi takes over, tapping an address into the GPS; his manager had researched some places that would lessen visibility.

On the way there we all talk on and off, avoiding work subjects. The moment I even slightly mention anything that will lead to work Hals shuts it down and eventually, Yoongi started to as well, leveling me with disapproving glances.

By the time we reach the small beach town, Hals is pouting in the back, upset that Yoongi and I started focusing our teasing purely on her. I all but dragged her from the car because of it, with her muttering under her breath about getting back at us.

The town was indeed not that packed. Of course, most people migrated towards the beach, but even then it wasn't a lot going on and they were all on the older side. Yoongi still kept on his beanie and mask on though, because fans came in all ages and you never knew when one could pop out.

Hals took the lead once she'd finished her fake sad girl act and we followed behind her. The beach farther down the road was less packed, so we spent a great deal of time loitering around there. We kicked off our shoes and walked partly in the water, we walked in silence or just talking about anything.

Something I'd learned and loved about being friends with Hals is we could have those random talks. With Yoongi it was the same way and it felt so natural even after a short time. Being able to talk and the other know if it was just you venting or needing some sort of response.

At some point, I waded father in, glad to be wearing shorts. Hals had stopped to take a picture of something and Yoongi was just staring out into the water. What I hadn't realized is that he snuck up on me, until I was being pushed forward.

"No," I squeaked.

A deep laugh came from behind me just as I was pulled back.

Once my feet were firmly planted I whipped around to see a smiling Yoongi. My eyes narrowed and I shoved him lightly, only displacing him a little.

"Don't do that, ya butt."

All my remark did was make him laugh, but when he saw me go to move past him he stopped.

"I would never. I know it would have effect on..." he trailed off and gestured to my straightened, and slightly poofy hair.

There was the smallest temptation to continue down my pouty path because I was annoyed, but something about it made me stop.

He understood what would come of my hair getting wet, but the fact that he felt comfortable enough to joke with me like that felt nice. Not like he'd been uncomfortable with me after a week or so, but there were levels to comfort and friendship.

A smile formed on my lips and before I could say anything Hals caught my attention. She was on her phone and was frowning deeply. Wading out of the water I stopped a few feet short of her.

"Mhm. Okay." With that she hung up and stared at us, frown deepening.

"What's wrong?" Yoongi asked.

She rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. "Something came up at the studio. They thought it would be fine last night and this morning, but they lost half a song. I need to go back and re-record."

The urge to ask a million questions about how they fumbled that without any backups presented itself, but she didn't need that.

"Okay. We can grab our shoes and drive back."

"No, no, no, no, no," she said, pushing me back as I tried to walk further onto the beach.

"What?" I asked.

She shook her head and took careful steps back.

"You two enjoy yourselves. I gave my manager a heads up on where I'd be, so a car was sent already because it looked bad like an hour ago. They're minutes out. I'll leave and you guys do whatever."

For a moment I wondered if it was some cliche set up, but nothing about the situation screamed that. And even with her facial control, she wasn't that good.

"You good with that?" I asked, turning to Yoongi.

He nodded.

"Okay then."

We walked her back to where I'd parked and were met with the car in a minute or so. After seeing her off we kind of just stared at each other, not really sure what to do next.

"So..." I trailed off.

A second or two of silence and he spoke. "Food?"

Without another word we got into my car and after a few seconds of him playing on his phone he tapped something into my GPS. The address was in Chinatown, which had me pausing because of the number of people that would be there.

"It's fine. Manager cleared it," he said without even looking at me.

I believed he wouldn't do anything to get himself mobbed or me, so I went along with it. We rode in silence and it was comfortable. How he always made the quiet feel calm and not awkward was beyond me.

"Favorite song?" he asked in Korean, drawing my attention.

"Um..." I hummed, chewing on my lip as I thought. "Can't think of an overall fave."

"Of the moment?"

"Hm..." Nothing was coming to me, my mind blanked completely.

Before I could get it together and respond I was being told by the GPS that we'd arrived at our destination. Yoongi directed me towards a different direction and I parked in an alleyway parking lot of the place. It was thankfully pretty empty.

Once out of the car, he led the way, knocking on the back door. In seconds we were met by his manager and led inside the place. Inside was much like the outside, which I chalked up to them ensuring there would be no random photo ops and swarms of people.

While we were seated closer to the back of the place his manager sat up front with someone I wasn't familiar with. I didn't care to know or figure it out though, seeing as it was none of my business.

A woman around my age came out to hand us menus and drinks, smiling politely.

"Take your time," she said as she left.

Yoongi skimmed his and I glanced down once before pulling out my phone to check for any messages. I had a few emails and an apology text from Hals. After responding to her I slipped onto my "professional" twitter to see what was going on.

I don't know how much time had passed before my phone was snatched from my hands and I noticed Yoongi's glare.

"I called your name."

"My bad."

I reached to reclaim my phone, but he slipped it off the table into his pocket. With a raised brow I stared him down, but he just shrugged and pointed to the patient waitress.

"I'll just have whatever he got."

"It was seafood."

"Then I will not have whatever he got. Instead, I will have..." I looked at the menu and pointed to something in the beef section. "...that."

She left us and he stared me down, expression blank. I stared back because what the hell else was I supposed to be. When that morphed into a competition I wasn't sure, but eventually, a throat was being cleared and my tea was being sat down.

My cheeks burned from being caught in our weirdness, while Yoongi tried to hide his smile. The dork.

I busied myself drinking tea as I regained composure. Mid-sip a thought came to mind. "Oh, it's Promise Ring by Tiffany Evans by the way."

"What?"

"My current favorite song. It isn't new, but it's what I listen to at least five times a day," I said.

His brows furrowed and then he nodded his head. For a second he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, and I protested vigorously. He just swatted my hand away until he was done and pocketed it.

The smirk he wore when I glared at him made me want to thump him, but I refrained and refused to speak until the food came.

We spent our eating time in silence or just talking about things we enjoyed. We'd spent enough time together that it wasn't some ice breaking get to know you stuff, but a deeper dive into our hobbies.

He'd grown more interested in my writing and though I'd begged him not to read anything I'd published he kept asking too specific questions. I tried to trip him up or get him to admit it, but he was a steel trap.

Just as we were finishing up his manager appeared and whispered something to him. Yoongi nodded and turned his attention to me as he walked away.

"I have a schedule later. So I have to leave soon." A small frown formed on his lips.

I waved him off. "It's fine. I too have a schedule... with my bed."

His frown vanished and he laughed at my lame answer.

Since I finished first I waited for him to be done and then we both stood from the table. When I turned to the front of the restaurant I noticed his manager with a credit card in his hand and a confused expression. The hostess was pointing in my direction and motioning for him to put it away.

A smile fought its way onto my lips, but I still tried to hide it with my hand. Yoongi handed me my phone and looked at me with confusion. Suddenly, his manager walked by and told him he'd wait out back. Before he left he thanked me for paying.

"How?" Yoongi asked, voice almost a whisper. The confusion from earlier only increasing in his expression. I guessed he was trying to figure out when I'd slipped away or called ahead.

"Oh sweetie, this is one of my favorite restaurants. They know me well and they knew that if I'm here then I pay. Regardless of how hard everyone else fights to."

He looked awestruck. I just laughed, patted his shoulder and headed towards the exit. "Maybe next time."

When we got out back his manager was already there in a car. We said our see you laters and then parted ways.

That evening as I was curled up on the couch half-watching The Office and scrolling through my stan account's feed something felt off. I refreshed the screen and saw a barrage of posts about Yoongi and it clicked.

Yoongi texted me just as my feed refreshed again to a post of pictures of the three of us and another of just him and me laughing. Sighing, I rolled my eyes and opened his message.

"Sorry, we tried to get it handled but couldn't. Statement already released. I'm really, really sorry."

I hoped he wasn't being too hard on myself, it wasn't his fault. The risks were known the moment I agreed to go out with them. Besides I wasn't bothered at all, especially since it was a good day.

But goodness, the shit show would not be fun to sift through later.

[sun-summoning]

summary: sakura and seven women. non-linear timeline. multi-genre. for sakura week.

i. iron will of determination

“are you going to do something you’ll regret, sakura?” shizune asks.

sakura’s jaw begins to ache from clenching it so tightly. no, she wants to say. i don’t know. maybe. yes. yes. sasuke’s fallen over the edge, naruto’s gone rogue, kakashi’s keeping her completely in the dark. oh, and they’re all out of the village. and tsunade is in a coma and about to replaced by that sketchy bastard danzo. yes. yes, yes, yes.

shizune looks at her, sadness in her dark eyes, and she draws sakura into her arms. one hand cups the back of her head, the other is wrapped around her body. shizune holds her despite sakura’s stiffness and after a moment, sakura considers crumbling. but she doesn’t. she wishes she could clutch at shizune, shake and cry because she’s scared and she’s lost and she feels terribly, terribly guilty, but sakura just tightens her jaw until it aches and the only proof of her determination to do something very, very bad is the way her eyes have glossed over. 

“i’m not going to stop you,” shizune assures her, probably already knowing sakura’s plans. “whatever you choose to do, sakura, is entirely up to you.”

sakura nods once. “i know.”

“but you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your life. do you understand?”

“i understand,” sakura replies, not intending for that life to be very long.

shizune smiles at her sadly and hands her a scroll. sakura looks down at it, perplexed. “you’ve been so busy that we haven’t had a chance to work together in a long time.” 

sakura’s eyes stay trained on the scroll, forest green and gilded with gold. sakura doesn’t shift in the slightest, so shizune reaches for her wrist and then presses it into her hand.

“we created this arsenal for a reason,” shizune reminds her, forcing sakura to recall all the nights she spent learning about what certain chemicals can do to a man when mixed with each other in what portions. she doesn’t smile, doesn’t frown, but there’s a sadness in her eyes that cannot penetrate the iron walls forged in sakura’s. “you and i are the only people in the world with access to these poisons. you and i are the only people who are immune. and you and i are the only people with the antidotes.”

sakura swallows thickly because using one of these will mean sasuke will, without a shadow of a doubt, die. her hands begin to tremble so she tightens her grip around the scroll. 

“thank you,” sakura whispers.

shizune leaves sakura to the fate she’s chosen. “do with it what you will.” 

-

ii. connections

the invitation is strange, but sakura still accepts, clearing time in her schedule to meet up with a young woman who claims she wants to write about her. when sakura sits across from her, the writer begins to shake.

“i’m sorry,” the writer says. “i don’t mean to be weird.”

sakura just smiles back. “don’t worry about it.”

“i know you’re a busy woman. former e.r. director, current head of the medical ninjutsu program, part-time practitioner, part-time researcher, weapons development consultant.” the writer raises a finger with every title. “i understand that you’re unofficially off the mission roster for jounin, but i imagine that has more to do with the fact that you have a toddler at home. i’m also going to gracefully not even consider what the next step tends to be for well-trained shinobi with a rare specialization such as yourself.” the writer clears her throat because sakura narrows her eyes in that subtle, suspicious way only the most trained of shinobi might. “i’m going to be direct with you. i want to write your story.”

“pardon me?”

“your story,” the writer repeats. “you are probably the finest kunoichi in this generation and i think it’s important the world knows that. or, at least, our village.”

sakura looks away, a flush forming on her cheeks. she begins to shake her head, wring her hands, and stutter incoherent things. the gestures all seem so strange, so foreign, so uncharacteristic of someone that holds all the titles the writer just mentioned. she finds it sad that haruno sakura can’t take this sort of compliment because this is a woman that can shatter the ground with one finger. 

words should have nothing on her.

“i’m not saying there aren’t strong women out there,” the writer continues. “it takes one glance at the hokage mountain to remember that there are. but you...you’re just...” she shrugs. “simply put, you’re incredible. and i think decades from now someone is going to write a book about all the best kunoichi that ever existed and i want to make sure they have a proper source of reference when making sure that you’re on those pages.”

“why?” sakura asks.

the writer shrugs, but there’s a hopeful sort of smile stretched across her face. “every little girl needs a hero, don’t you think?”

“and you think that’s me?”

“i know that’s you.” 

the writer leans back into her chair and a waitress arrives with the tea the writer had ordered earlier. she takes a sip and contemplates the steam. across from her, haruno sakura is quiet.

“why don’t i tell you my story first,” the writer says. sakura nods so the writer does as well. “i was eight-years-old when konoha was invaded years ago. my parents, both shinobi, were part of the efforts to the stave off the attack. 

“to be clear, this isn’t a sad backstory. they’re both alive. retired, but alive. 

“they left me with my grandmother in what they assumed was a safe place. but there were no safe places. not at that time. not with the akatsuki attacking and all the monsters they brought with them. 

“did you know i used to be afraid of bugs? how irrational. they’re everywhere. but i used to be so frightened by them. and then after my parents left, a giant centipede came out of the ground. we were all running. i fell and i looked back and i saw it. a centipede as tall as a building that i was so certain was going to eat me. i couldn’t move. i was hurt and i was terrified and then all of a sudden i saw a girl leaping in front of me like every incredible manga heroine i’d ever read about. then she took it down with a single punch. 

“the people around were marvelling at the dead monster and talking about how this girl took it down all by herself. but she--” the writer shakes her head. “but you--you didn’t even look at them. you came to me and checked on me and healed my wound while comforting me.

“you saved my life that day, saved more people, and not to be weird, but i’ve been following your accomplishments ever since then. you’re not lauded in the same way people like uzumaki naruto are. not at all. you’re not something flashy, something often spoken about. your influence runs deeper than that. your legacy runs deeper than that.

“no shinobi name, no blatant nepotism--no offence--you started off ordinary. and now you’re--” the writer falters, unable to find the right words to describe what haruno sakura has become. she shakes her head. she grins, something tight and rueful for her shortcoming. “you’re--”

“okay.”

the writer blinks. “what?”

“okay,” sakura agrees. there’s something in the way her posture loosens, in the way she rests an elbow on the table and cradles her chin in her palm. she’s relaxed enough, but the writer catches the way she braces herself for the inevitable onslaught of questions that will likely lead her down a few mental pathways she’s probably spent years ignoring. 

haruno sakura smiles and the writer bites her lip when she remembers that this is her hero.

“what would you like to know?”

-

iii. from a bud to a blossom

her mother doesn’t look particularly impressed when she visits home with an indisputable baby bump and a wedding ring dangling from a chain around her neck. the wedding came first, sakura has the decency to clarify, but the lack of husband at her side leaves mebuki frowning. 

“sasuke-kun and i can’t just--” sakura stops, pursing her lips and then looking away.

unlike her husband, mebuki has never once turned a blind eye to the bruises that used to dot their daughters skin, how limp limbs turned sturdy and powerful over time. perhaps he attributed it all to puberty, perhaps he refused to acknowledge the way her mouth had tightened with grim acceptance, how her gaze had sharpened. her daughter is one of the few from her class that was promoted to jounin, and it wouldn’t surprise mebuki to know that perhaps she was promoted even further. 

sakura might pretend they’re on some sort of journey of redemption or whatnot, but her secrecy is telling enough. 

“sasuke-kun couldn’t join me,” sakura says instead. “he had something he needed to do.”

“for kakashi?”

sakura dons a careful mask of pleasantness. “yes.”

mebuki almost laughs. sakura was never a good liar growing up, too quick to stutter and stumble. even after meeting ino and gaining the confidence only a best friend could provide, sakura couldn’t quite wear the right poker face. it was only after her team split up, after she learned from tsunade, that sakura figured out how to hide the important things a bit better.

“fine,” mebuki acquiesces. they fall silent, so she picks up the cup of tea before her, prompting sakura to do the same. there’s a tension between them that’s only felt when they bring up uchiha sasuke, so mebuki goes for the next best thing and nods to sakura’s midsection. “so.”

“so?”

mebuki raises an eyebrow. “are you not going to tell me about my grandchild?”

“um. you’re having one?”

“how soon?”

“well i’m due in april--”

“are you afraid?”

sakura looks startled. “what?” 

“are you afraid, sakura?”

“i--” sakura swallows thickly. “i am.”

“don’t be.”

mebuki reaches across. she pulls sakura into her arms and almost laughs because she hasn’t held her little girl like this in years and now she’s just so big. she looks down at sakura’s growing belly and reaches out hesitantly. she might be her mother, but mebuki remembers all too well the invasion of hands on pregnant women. after sakura nods, mebuki smiles softly and rests her palm upon her grandchild.

“you’ve grown up, haven’t you,” mebuki murmurs. she looks up, meeting sakura’s eyes, and with her free hand, she cups her daughter’s cheek. “you’ve always been mature--probably more than you ever needed to be--but somehow seeing you like this, about to become a mother...” 

sakura’s eyes, green just like hers, begin to water, and mebuki hopes against all statistically likeliness that this baby might inherit that trait. 

“i love you,” sakura blurts out, her voice wavering over every word. “mommy, i--” she sniffs. “i love you so much.”

mebuki laughs. “hormones, huh?”

“mommy, they’re awful.”

she laughs again, shifting her hands to sakura’s shoulders and then pulling her into a hug. she pulls back and presses a kiss against sakura’s forehead like she did when her girl was growng up. “i love you too, sakura.”

-

iv. zodiac

one day sakura is cooking breakfast while sarada sits at the table reading a magazine. she looks so strange, dressed down in her pyjamas with her hair messy and her glasses askew. she yawns and then says, “hey, we have the same zodiac sign, mama.”

sakura glances at sarada with an eyebrow raised. “you’re thirteen. this is just occurring to you now?”

sarada sticks her tongue out at her. “i’m just saying!” she holds up a page with a ram on it. “aries women are passionate, enthusiastic, and determined.” then she winks at sakura. “they’re also short-tempered, moody, and aggressive.”

“what was that? you don’t want me to make you breakfast and you want to starve today?”

"see! short-tempered!”

sighing, sakura slides the cooked eggs out of the pan and onto a plate. she brings the food to the table and sets everything up for the two of them. sarada needs to eat up for her day preparing for the chuunin exams with her team, and sakura has work to do at the hospital.

“also,” sarada says, stuffing her mouth with a piece of fish, “we aries are optimistic.” she pauses, probably considering herself and considering her mother. “yeah, the both of us really are all of those things.” she nods. “it’s because we’re both aries.”

“that’s absurd.” sakura shakes her head, hardly one to believe in something like astrology. she rests her chin over her palm and stares at her daughter, a young woman full of confidence and drive. she reaches out with her free hand and musses sarada’s hair. “we’re alike because i raised you, not because of some stars.” 

she leans forward, pressing a kiss against sarada’s forehead. when she draws back, sarada is beaming. 

“you have all those amazing traits because you had an amazing mother to teach them to you,” sakura says with a wink

sarada laughs again. “and the negative ones? did i get my moodiness from you or from the stars?”

sakura steals a bit of sarada’s breakfast. “that we’ll blame on your father.”

-

v. japanese mythology

while sakura’s chakra control has always been superior to that of her peers, she still lacks the utter precision of people like tsunade and shizune. she’ll get there, and she’ll get there very soon, they often remind her, but there are still times when sakura’s control falters at the moment meant for release.

sometimes nothing will happen. sometimes she won’t exert properly, won’t protect herself either, resulting in a shattered fist and broken arm, and even worse depending on the intentions of her opponent. 

and other times the opposite will take place. sakura will throw her punch, putting everything into a well-timed attack that results in much more damage than she could ever intend. sakura’s caused minor earthquakes, demolished buildings, shattered foundations, but not because she meant to.

she’s still learning, tsunade will tell her. it hasn’t even been a year, after all.

sakura tries not to use her chakra enhanced strength all too much, but sometimes it’s necessary. 

she doesn’t know where her current team is. ever since her genin cell was split up, tsunade has put her on various squads. she’s mostly meant to heal, but she still needs to fight, and right now she’ll die if she doesn’t.

the kunoichi she’s up against is strong and comes at her with the intention to kill. she’s stronger, so much stronger, and sakura doesn’t know if she can beat her. she wishes she could be as powerful as this kunoichi, as sure of her own capabilities that she had no qualms with separating from her team. sakura scowls, jealous, and curses her old team and curses her current one. she tries to hide to get her bearings, but the yatsugatake mountains do not allow her this reprieve.

“do you intend to run away?” the kunoichi asks. 

she’s much older than sakura, and judging by the scar by her eyebrow and the hardness of her face, she’s much more experienced as well. she moves with a confidence sakura can only wish to one day achieve, and strikes just as surely. 

sakura is just fortunate that she’s much better at dodging. 

"fight me!” the kunoichi yells.

the kunoichi slashes her side and sakura cries out and stumbles. the kunoichi moves to hit her again, but sakura rolls out of the way at the last second. she runs, unashamed by her cowardice. one hand holds her bleeding wound, unconsciously feeding it with healing chakra.

she has to do something. 

she has to do something.

sakura slides down against the jagged stone of the mountain and takes a deep breath to think. she can’t get in close. the kunoichi is better than her. sakura can evade, but she can’t do that forever. she can attack with the few long-range weapons she has on hand, but sakura doesn’t doubt the kunoichi will counter them with ease. 

sakura takes a breath, looks down at her stained hands, and wonders is she can cause a rockslide. 

“stop running--”

sakura concentrates her chakra into her fist. she draws her arm back, punches the mountainside, and release everything she has. she cries out as something breaks in her arm, but she gets the result that she wants. despite her pain, she catches the flicker of fear on the kunoichi’s face when the stone crumbles and immediately falls on top of her. 

sakura herself barely dodges the boulders. she jumps as far back as possible and watches and waits and waits and waits. she waits for the mountain to settle once again, waits for the kunoichi to claw her way out of her grave, waits for the pain in her arm and on her side to turn numb.

finally, sakura moves forward. she takes careful steps, eyes and ears open to the sound of the kunoichi’s counterattack. when sakura hears the tortured groans of a survivor, she turns and finds her opponent. her entire body is covered by the broken mountainside, but half her face is visible. her mouth moves, and sakura can only imagine the pain that causes.

she considers what is left of this section of the yatsugatake mountains and considers how strong she’ll one day become.

“how pathetic,” the kunoichi says. she coughs, causing the boulder on top of her to shift. her eyes squeeze shut and despite the excruciating pain, she laughs. “i can’t believe i’ve been brought down by a child.”

“i’m fourteen,” sakura tells her. she doesn’t mean to take offence, but she does, and so she presses her foot down just so, making the kunoichi cry out once more. satisfied, sakura eases her stance. “i’m old enough that you decided to fight me. am i not old enough to kill you too?”

the kunoichi sneers at her, revealing red stained teeth. “i’m not dead yet, brat.”

“no,” sakura murmurs, slowly sinking to her knees. she considers pulling out a weapon, but her manipulation of chakra still needs practice. and shouldn’t she practice? as her bloody palm nears the kunoichi’s nervous face, sakura takes a deep breath. “but you will be.”

-

vi. acknowledgements

naturally, tsunade’s sudden retirement is a sore spot for sakura. sakura raves, sakura rages, and sakura doesn’t once back down. this is ridiculous. this is preposterous. this is terrible timing. this is not at all a wise political move. she’s cyclical and repetitive, so tsunade mostly tunes her out after the first few days of sakura’s screaming. 

“i don’t see why you’re so against this,” tsunade drawls over a cup of tea. “one would think you might find this ideal, considering who my successor is.”

sakura’s scowl darkens at the reminder that kakashi will soon be taking over as hokage.

“after all, he’s the one who will be dealing with the age old question of what to do with uchiha sasuke.” tsunade leans back into her chair. she drums her fingers over the leather arm and cocks her head to the side. “surely you’re relieved that he won’t be on the receiving end of my brand of justice.”

sakura rolls her eyes. “there’s still the village council. and the other kages. and, well, konoha’s reputation. you’re one person--”

“listen here, you little--”

“--and i know you would never do that to naruto.”

“naruto?”

sakura shrugs. “he wouldn’t take anything less than a pardon just sitting down.”

“and you would?”

“this isn’t about me.”

“then i’m making it about you,” tsunade insists. “do you think i’d do that to you?”

“i--” sakura purses her lips to stop herself from talking. 

tsunade might not be the best politician, but she plays the game better than any of her predecessors because she’s a woman and isn’t it just so easy to underestimate her? shizune sleuths just as well, acts and smiles on cue, and so sakura has picked up these skills too. little sakura knows who to smile at, who to butter up with her femininity, who to demolish with just a couple of words. the girl can argue and make it seem like your idea was never hers to begin with. 

“yes?”

“it’s not about me.”

“i acknowledge that. i don’t care. answer my question.”

“i--” sakura grunts to herself. “no,” she admits. “i don’t think you’d do that to me. but your decision to pardon sasuke wouldn’t be about just me. it would be about sasuke. about naruto and kakashi, about inspiring hope, about--”

tsunade waves a hand. “you don’t have to do that.”

“do what?”

“convince me about hypotheticals. it’s not going to be my call considering i already have a successor.”

sakura flinches at the word and that gives tsunade pause. leaning back, tsunade considers a smile. instead she shakes her head. do i detect jealousy? she wants to ask. but sakura isn’t jealous. sakura is worried. sakura is upset. sakura is upset that kakashi would replace tsunade as sakura’s beacon and that he would replace her as tsunade’s legacy.

“as hokage,” tsunade clarifies. “all this means is that kakashi’s face will be carved into a mountain between mine and some other poor bastard. that’s the successor he is. do you understand?”

sakura frowns and tsunade laughs in her face. 

“don’t be like that,” she says, smacking the back of sakura’s head the way she used to when sakura was young and naive and full of dumb answers despite her obvious intelligence. “kakashi? my new successor?” tsunade mimics with a laugh. she smiles softly, shakes her head, and picks up her box of things. “he might have my title, but you know better than that, sakura.”

-

vii. happy birthday, sakura!

for her twenty-second birthday, sakura and ino makes plans to meet up and celebrate. sasuke makes some excuses so he can lag behind, and while normally that might have annoyed sakura, she takes it with a stride and just goes on ahead. 

she’s seeing ino again. she’s seeing ino again after so long apart and as she runs faster and faster, her heart races from the anticipation. when she finally catches sight of ino at their meeting place, sakura releases a stupid little squeal that ino reciprocates. they run for each, meeting with a hug and moving around with it.

“i missed you!”

“i missed you!”

“your hair is long,” ino says, playing with the locks of pink. “you look so pretty!”

sakura sniffs. “you look pretty.” she pokes ino’s bicep. “do you even lift?”

ino rolls her eyes. “not all of us can be ripped and use our chakra for additional strength.” 

sakura laughs and ino laughs too and then they’re hugging once again.

eventually ino notices how sakura is alone. she peers over sakura’s shoulder as if expecting her partner might appear. “where’s sasuke?” she wonders.

sakura shrugs though. “he has some stuff to do.”

“he’s not joining us for your birthday celebration?” ino asks, sounding thoroughly unimpressed with the man her best friend had chosen to fall in love with. 

“nope,” sakura responds with a grin. sasuke’s absence might irk ino like it irks her mother, but sakura knows him well enough to know that this is his gift to her: time alone with her best friend. sakura loops her arm around ino’s and they begin to move. “it’s just you and me, ino.”

it always was and it always will be. no marriage, no other friendships, no children -- nothing will change ino’s significance to sakura. ino, the friend who brought sakura out of her own shell, the one who gave her confidence and supported her through absolutely everything. sakura loves many people and will continue to do so, but sakura will never be able to replicate the sort of bond she has with her best friend. 

“sounds like a perfect pair then.” ino presses a sloppy kiss upon sakura’s cheek. “happy birthday, sakura.” 

-

fin

[gentleknj]

consequences (part 2) | kth

✧ pairing: kim taehyung x reader / crime au

✧ genre: angst, light smut, breaks of fluff because i needed to break up all that angst.

✧ word count: over 6k  ✧ summary:  This is a love story of two people, told in chronological order. Lovers on the lam was never going to be an easy feat. But falling in love wasn’t any easier than robbing a bank, especially if your love thrives in the midst of a drug war. One from a broken home and the other from an underground drug world, will this love triverse the odds or will it succumb to its demise?

✧ warnings: heavy swearing, familial issues, cheating, slight gore, mentions of drugs, guns, serious crimes, death, and alcohol. If you are easily triggered/very sensitive i recommend you not reading this. i’ve said it before and i will continue to say this until i run out of words to write. I would rather have 0 readers than harm anyone. enjoy. X

(ps i am so so sorry this is so late, but i promise the next chapter will be over 10k and there will be more backstory for both y/n and taehyung as well. thank you for the continued support, and i hope it lives up to your expectations)

masterlist

Love. A completely foreign concept to the blonde man, a feeling he thought he had only felt many years ago when his mother was still alive. But such a out-of-the-box feeling resonated from the figure beside him. Whatever he was developing with you, he knew it had to be protected and he would stop at nothing to do so.

It truly was astonishing how there was even any room for oxygen in the office, the tension thick enough to disperse the hydrogen from the oxygen atoms themselves. Jin’s hardset eyes continued to lock with Taehyung’s. The latter still found it harder to breathe, despite keeping his resolve. The older man waved gently for Laura to shut the door, making a tsk sound when she tried to leave while doing so. The sound alone drove chills down your spine as if it were some warning signal that only went off to alert full hell had broken loose.

“Laura, dear, please do stay. I think you’d at least like to get a goodbye in if this whole ordeal goes south.” Jin’s voice was sweet like honey, only stinging like the bee it was made from. Such a handsome man, kind and gentle looking, but his soft features were a ploy to deter you from the malevolence brewing inside.

The blonde woman swallowed thickly before doing as told, closing the door to cut off the party unfolding beneath them.

“Now, I’m aware that Mr. Jeon has told you about a job tonight, is that correct?” Jin spoke as he shifted his position, resting against the front of the doe eyed boys desk flatly on his palms. The tone of his voice kept Taehyung on edge, his digits sweating against yours as he gripped you tightly, stepping in front of you just a fraction. “Ah, well, there have been a tiny change in plans. You see, what you collect tonight is to be returned here to me. Of course, you all get your cut, but only what is seen fit for the effort I see you put in.”

“Sure. It doesn’t bother me either way. I drop a few bodies, hand you your shit and leave.” The blonde male fired, feline eyes never leaving his targeted audience.

“Mm. I see.” Jin reached up to gently rub his chin in what seemed to be annoyance, quickly standing to his full height as he adjusted his expensive blazer. “You and Jungkook are to head to the docks and disband this poker game to bring me my payout.” His expression was now calm, unreadable almost as he sat further onto the edge of the wooden desk.

“But it’s mine, is it not?” Jungkook’s features were hard, emotionless save for the quick tilt of his head to the side. Taehyung knew that gesture all too well, his friend was ready to pounce and quite literally rip apart Jin’s throat in pure anger despite, howbeit, his formalities still lacing his voice. “Those men owe me, sir. I don’t mind splitting my profit 70-30 with you-”

“You expect me to take such a low share when I’m doing you a favor and not putting a bullet between your lady’s eyes after taking her on your desk in front of you? Hmm?”

He was egging Jungkook on, enjoying the rise he was getting out of him. Your free hand lent itself outwards to Laura, her hand welcoming yours immediately. Taehyung swallowed thickly, releasing your hand before outstretching his towards Jin. ”You have a deal,” The younger verbally sealing the negotiation. “My only request is that our girls are monitored among the guests downstairs. None of your men, or you, get alone time with them. You wouldn’t want us to focus on their safety while we’re gone and fuck up the job, would you?”

Taehyung was charismatic, it was hard to say no to him whenever he made any kind of business transactions. He radiated confidence even if his life was on the line. Jin turned his attention to the blonde man, eyebrows raising slightly as his expression became furthermore unreadable. Minutes passed silently as they looked at one another, the latter’s hand still outstretched causing your heart to pound with the muted bass from downstairs.

“We have a deal. 50-50, and the ladies join the party downstairs. I’ll have my men posted at every door, and if you or your ladies try anything, our deal is off. Do I make myself clear?”

The agreement was then made by the chorus of hums in agreeance, guns lowered and tucked away as Jungkook was released. The brunette boy wasted no time in making his way to his girlfriend, his emotions etched into his face. The tension was still residing in the stuffy office and the purple haired man nodded towards the door.

The four of you were to follow Namjoon to the room down the hall to equip the two men before they headed out for the night, the door slightly ajar as Jin’s voice rang out.

“Oh and boys,” He smiled smugly, taking a seat in the lavish chair behind Jungkook’s desk. “Don’t take too long, I may charge a late fee if you do. I’ll choose which of the girls will repay me for the time you waste of mine.” Taehyung grasped the younger boys arm firmly at his words and shoved him further down the hallway before he could reply with some remark that would guarantee the deal would be off.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you were stood outside in the cobblestone driveway. Jungkook had said his goodbye to Laura before he left the house, instructing her to take care of herself by any means until he returned. The blonde mans eyes were fixed on yours, his hands taking yours firmly.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere alone and keep in mind what I taught you about close combat.”

“Tae, I’m not seven. I can handle myself if I feel my life is in immediate danger.”

“I know that. I just needed to hear it. I’ll call you when we’re coming back and then you and I can leave alright? I heard Yoongi’s got us a penthouse suite for the week and a run for us to do.”

“I don’t want to think about that until you’re back in one piece, got it? Focus on getting you and Jungkook back safely and then we can talk about the next run.” Your hand moved to cup his cheek gently, your teeth worrying into your lower lip as you paused. It was hard to grow attached to someone, let alone someone like him, a complete mystery. But the affliction that brewed in the pit of your stomach was hard to suppress. You had given your heart completely to him and you hoped he knows it. Falling in love wasn’t something you ever wanted to do, love never existing in your upbringing, but it sure did have a hold on your heart when you looked at him.

“I promise.” He nodded, tangling your free pinky with his own before leaving a chaste kiss to your forehead.

Within minutes, the car had disappeared into the traffic of the night, the pale woman beside you reminding you to join her inside. The heavy feeling that plagued your chest was one Taehyung felt himself. Only, he couldn’t focus on it, but instead the man beside him and the mission at hand.

Jungkook is amazing on his feet, agile and intelligent, he was a great man to fight beside. The tension that radiated from his body and filled the car, however, was something the younger man was always struggling to subdue behind a facade of indifference.

“They’ll be fine, you know.” The older of the two spoke, checking the magazine of his silenced .9mm as his friends knuckles turned pale at the intensity of his grip. “Even if that bastard wanted to put his hands on her, you know she could-”

“Just shut the fuck up, hyung. I don’t need to keep the image of him laying hands on her in the front of my mind. It’s bad enough he fucking came to my home.” Jungkook all but growled, jaw tight as the traffic heading to the docs blurred by.

The blonde man sat tight lipped the rest of the way, a frown remaining prominent on his otherwise model like features. Once the two arrived, there wasn’t much security for the game that nestled itself in a freight container, sitting against the waterside. The headlights of the car were turned off as they parked a few containers down, scoping out the area for any unexpected onlookers or security. Gun silencers in place, mags full and hearts silently racing, the two snuck amongst the shadows to the entrance and easily took out the two hefty guards. But not before one of them got a good left hook in on Taehyung, his lip splitting at the harsh contact. It only egged his anger and discomfort of the entire situation on further.

Loud music pumped through the metal container to muffle the chatter of the older men inside, the bickering amongst who was bluffing and playful banter about the others abilities at poker. It was almost a shame to break up such a domestic get together, as domestic as drug kingpins could get on a weeknight.

The brunette nodded his chin towards the opening gap of the container and the two stepped fluidly inside, neither hesitating to put a bullet between the two goons’ eyes that stood to overlook the game. The six men sat around the poker table shouted in a mixture of shock and anger upon the interruption.

“Ah, Mr. Jeon. I see you’re here to collect your money personally, eh?” The eldest man sat at the far end of the table spoke after they had quieted down, all eyes on the two young men with gun sights that moved between each of the elders.

“Something like that.” Jungkook quipped, a small smirk making an appearance. “I grew impatient of waiting. I have people to pay off as well, you see, it isn’t just about you.”

Laughter boomed from the bold man, hands moving to swipe through his taut hair, glasses dropping to the tip of his nose. “Young man, there is such thing as patience-”

“Cut the shit, Ahn, we aren’t here to talk. We’re here to get what you owe my friend here and leave. Now, either you can give us the fucking money, or we’ll put a bullet through your head and take your fucking pals out as well.” Taehyung made his way to the other side of the container to press the tip of his silencer firmly to the back of the man’s head, annoyance bubbling through his veins.

The smoke from the abandoned cigarettes around the table made the air thicker, apprehensive glances shared between the two boys. Neither one of them taken seriously by the gangsters sat before them. Each men in the room had their fair share of guns pointed at their skulls, so this was nothing new. But they needed to be provoked into cooperation and Taehyung was getting impatient as the thought of you being alone at the manor creeped up his spine.

Dry laughter befell the older men and that seemed to only heighten the blonde’s annoyance, his gun swiftly shifting momentarily to lodge a bullet in the man beside Mr. Ahn. The men’s head made a loud thudding sound as it hit the table, the laughter ceasing between the older men.

“Christ..” Mr. Ahn sighed, motioning to the three duffle bags sat in the corner of the container. “Your fucking money is in there. Take it and leave.”

Jungkook nodded, lowering his gun before shouldering two of the duffle bags and motioning for his friend to take the other.

“Don’t even think about retaliation, sir. I know where your daughter and her three children live.” The youngest man threw a smirk over his shoulder before taking a leave through the slightly ajar doors.

The walk wasn’t very far to the car although their pace was swift, the trunk opening upon a simple press of a button from the keychain that sat comfortably in Jungkook’s hand. The two boys shared a silent congratulatory nod as the duffles were stuffed in the trunk. The hour long drive back was now the only thing left of this fucked situation.

Back at the manor, Laura had flit between small groups of party guests to do her best at keeping the anxiety of the situation at bay. You on the other hand, gripped the mostly full bottle of soju in your hands, knee bouncing up and down as you sat on the bar stool that hugged the in-home bar. It was hard to keep the gnawing thoughts of negativity from clouding your mind. And the smug look on Seokjin’s face from the far end of the room didn’t help ease your mind one bit. You could feel his eyes boring into your skin, making you feel small and under a magnifying glass.

You had been too caught up in nursing the tiniest of sips from your bottle that you hadn’t noticed someone sat down beside you.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re frightened.” Namjoon chuckled before ordering a drink of his own.

“Oh, piss off.” You hissed, your nose scrunching slightly as you tucked into the bar counter further, eyes scanning the front door periodically in hopes of seeing the man that made you feel safe.

“Mm, feisty.” The purple haired man shook softly with laughter, sipping from his freshly made drink. “You know, you should ease up a little bit. We aren’t as fucked up as you’re making us out to be.”

“Oh yeah?” You finally looked at him, brows knotting together. If he wasn’t so intimidating and on the ‘opposing team’ you would’ve found him to be much cuter than your senses would allow. He’s probably a nice man, but right now you could only think about the million and one ways he could put you in danger right now with a simple signal from his boss just over 10 feet away.

He simply nodded, eyeing you over the rim of his glass. But before the conversation could carry out, you had anxiously glanced at the front door for the umpteenth time that night and were pleasantly overwhelmed by what you saw. You didn’t owe Namjoon a polite excuse before jumping from your seat, feet shuffling quickly through the intoxicated bodies.

Your hands immediately cupped Taehyung’s face to give his features a good look over, noting his split lip and deciding to ask him about it later before pulling him into the tightest hug you could manage. He’d only been gone maybe three hours, tops, but after growing used to doing any runs with him, this felt like you’d been apart for too long. Relief finally flooded through you when he let out a laugh at your actions, duffle dropping to beside his feet to wrap his arms around your frame.

Your embrace was short lived when none other but Seokjin himself interrupted with an unamused clearing of his throat. “Shall we head to the office, boys?” He spoke, a wry smile making an appearance.

Jungkook waved his girlfriend over with a small smile, the two interlacing hands before the four of you followed behind Jin to the office you met in earlier. The air seemed to be just as tense as a few hours ago, duffle bags making a quiet thud against the hardwood of the desk. 3.5 billion won sat comfortably between the three large bags, each bundle of money counted twice to ensure the full payout was there. Half was taken by Hoseok and Namjoon down to their leader’s car as the aforementioned man stayed behind, hand outstretched to Jungkook.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Jeon.” A cheshire cat smile making an appearance as the two shook hands.

Jungkook had stayed silent in response as Taehyung shook Jin’s hand as well, the older male leaving immediately after. You let out a heavy sigh, unaware that you had been holding your breath that entire time. And now that you could relax, the dried blood that sat against Taehyung’s swollen lip brought itself to the front of your mind once more.

“Christ, what happened?” You frowned, brows furrowing as you tilted his chin to get a better look at the bruising area.

Instead of answering, he simply sucked in a quiet breath when your fingertip ghosted over the wound sat proudly on his plump lip. A ‘tsk’ sound fell from your own lips, his face being tugged down gently by your hands as you leaned up on your toes to place a firm kiss to his forehead. Your fingers laced with his when Jungkook spoke up, Taehyung’s chest blooming with warmth at your simple actions. He hadn’t felt someone care about his injuries, however minor they may be in this case, since primary school.

“Goodness, what am I to do with you, raindrop?” Her voice was hoarse from the medication pulsing through the IV. “What happened?” She tried again, this time with a new softness in her tone.

The small boy looked at the floor, eyes brimming with embarrassed tears. “The boys at school told me I looked like I was poor. And they said mean things about you so I pushed one of them and told them they were stupid.” His voice broke as the tears spilled, tiny hands clinging to the soft fabric of her sweater.

Gentle coos filled the room along with his sobs. Her tired arms mustered as much strength as she could to pull him up into her lap as she sat at the edge of the bed, fingers carding through his messy brown locks slowly.

“It’s okay, raindrop. They don’t know any better, okay? Their parents didn’t take the time to tell them right from wrong. Now how about this, hmm? You and I can go down to Myeongdong tomorrow and do some clothes shopping okay? It’s going to be okay, baby.” She paused, pulling away enough to make eye contact with the sad boy in her arms. “I’ll make it all better, I promise you. But you have to promise to never get sent home from school for some dumb fight. Got it?”

He nodded hurriedly, afraid that if he even missed a beat that she would be disappointed in any hesitation. Any over thought reaction. She was all he had, and he couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen if he made her hate him. Although, what he didn’t know, was that his mother wasn’t wired to hate the small, intelligent and kind boy that sat in her lap with snot and tears claiming their spot on his small, puffy face.

The two men bid their goodbyes after splitting the cash evenly, the younger of the two muttering an apology before whisking away his girlfriend to be a host of the party still carrying out strong on the floor below. The anxiety finally subsided as Taehyung’s hand laced with yours, a nod towards the door for a silent understanding of much needed rest. Although, with the amount of fear you had during this evening’s events; you were sure that it would be near sunrise that the two of you would finally be getting some sleep.

AUGUST.

-

Today had been marked the hottest day of the year, lucky for you two, you were calmly sat in the large apartment Yoongi rented out. From the windows, you could see all of Daegu. Soft chatter from some droning newscaster about a convenience store robbery from yesterday. Your hip rested against the grand piano Yoongi had bought and occasionally played when he stayed at the apartment between jobs. The sun beat down on the lively city, people going about their day and completely unaware of your actions the previous day. More so, they knew what you’d done, but not that it had been you.

Taehyung had gotten stir crazy, going on about how he had been itching to get his hands on actual cash and not on the cold plastic of the card his friend set up for money to be wired to for jobs. So, on a complete impulse, the two of you drove to the edge of town and robbed the fourth convenience store since last month. The registers were never full of enough money to raise eyebrows, but close to a million won was enough to report to the police.

Adrenaline, pure and hot as it coursed through your body. The balaclava snug against your skin, leaving your eyes and lips exposed. Two things Taehyung couldn’t quite get enough of. A friend of Yoongi’s, Park Jimin, decided he would be an accomplice so long as he got a third of whatever proceeds the two of you were able to get.

The van circled the block twice, the three of you scouting for any ‘heros’ that would come to the rescue of the young, unwary cashier that sat inside. Business was slow and there were hardly any people roaming the streets. What a perfect opportunity. Taehyung dialed Jimin’s cell, instructing him to keep it on speaker and sit around the block with the van running so they could make a smooth getaway.

The orange haired man was obedient to his friends instructions as he adjusted his sunglasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “Good luck, I’ll be here.” A soft smile was hidden behind his mask as the three nodded to one another.

Your feet carried in sync with the tall blonde’s, hands entwined while you entered the store. No customers were inside, the adrenaline subduing slightly. Taehyung held the trash bag open as you pointed the gun at the cashier, heart pounding loudly in your ears.

“Clean the register out!” You shouted, pacing slightly as you glanced around the store once more. “And don’t you fucking get ballsy kid. I won’t hesitate to fucking shoot you.”

Tears began pouring from the young man’s face and you felt a little guilty, this had to’ve been his first job. Ironed work vest, naive. He followed directions well enough, though, emptying the entirety of the register into the bag Taehyung had held out, gun tucked into the back of his pants snugly.

But before either of you could register the older woman that came out of the backroom, she fired a shot. It rung out in your ears as you turned to the source, morals out the window as you fired not once, but twice at her. The young boy had taken this opportunity to book it out of the store, jumbled words falling from Taehyung’s lips.

As your heart nearly stopped, you grabbed the bag from the tan boy’s hands, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him out to the van that now sat with the backdoor opened and a very panicked Jimin in the driver’s seat.

“Fuck! Step on it! Get us to the fucking apartment!” Taehyung’s body thudded into the bed in the back of the van, the door sloppily slamming shut as the orange haired male did as instructed, speeding off down various streets in an effort to not seem suspicious.

“Baby, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You cried, tearing the wool fabric from your face as well as his to hold your hair back.

Your hands were covered in blood, the bullet luckily hitting his lower left abdomen where there would be less chance of any major organs being completely thrashed.

“Fuck, J-Jimin! Learn to fucking drive, huh?” Taehyung shouted, face growing pale.

Sweat beaded on his hairline, large hands enclasping yours to add pressure to the wound. “Call Hyunsik and tell him to meet us at Yoongi’s place.” You shouted over your shoulder as the van haphazardly pulled into the basement parking lot of the apartment complex. Luckily enough, if you insert a special card into the elevator then you can bypass the front desk and any staff that would inevitably ask questions. “Baby, you’ll be okay. I’ve got you, okay?” You tried once more, reaching a hand up to brush hair out of your boyfriend’s face, blinking away the tears that spilled.

It was no easy feat to support Taehyung’s weight as you and Jimin helped him into the elevator, the phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear as he helped lean his friend against the elevator wall. Within the span of twenty minutes you had gone from an adrenaline junky to a complete mess. The man you cared so deeply for was now bleeding on you, losing consciousness as you made it to the dining room table of the apartment. The blood trailing itself from the elevator and across the white tiles.

Within minutes, you had managed to follow the instructions being given over the phone as Hyungsik informed you that he would be there in ten minutes. The blood was staining your hands at this point, tears mixing with sweat as you inspected for the exit wound.

“Yeah, yeah- There’s an exit hole, fuck! Please-” You sniffled, trying your best to remain level headed as every emotioned flooded through your head at once. “Please hurry.”

As he promised, ten minutes had passed and the elevator doors opened, a tall man in workout clothes entered the apartment. The size of the first aid kit in his hand looked more than equipped with whatever he could possibly need. But the amount of blood Taehyung had lost was more than any kind of first aid kit could even dream of having. Of course, medical TV shows were almost never correct in their diagnosis considering 90% of them were all fictional or dramas.

“He’s going to need blood.” Hyunsik spoke, gloves already on and kit opened beside the now pale man splayed on the table.

“Take mine.” Without a second thought you began searching for a tourniquet amidst the supplies. “I-I have O Negative, I can give to anyone. Please.” your eyes met the older man’s as tears blurred your vision.

A quiet nod was given as you sat at the head of the table, hands running through Taehyung’s hair in an effort to calm his grunts of pain. An IV was started as best as an at home one could be, your attention shifting to the pacing man across the room.

“Jimin,” Your voice shook. Clearing your throat as the orange haired man turned his attention to you, he looked almost as helpless as you felt. “Call Yoongi, please and let him know what happened okay? And- and figure out a way to clean up all the blood so we don’t get caught and you can have my share of what we took, okay?”

A sigh fell from his lips as he shook his head, long strides carrying him to the elevator as he dialled who you assumed was Yoongi. This was supposed to be simple, get in, intimidate the kid and get the cash. That was it. How could this have gotten so fucked in such a short amount of time?

A soft groan of your name came from the room down the hall, your thoughts interrupted by the sound. Padding quietly to the source, worry etched itself onto your features as you stood in the bedroom doorway. The curtains had been closed and a humidifier infused with lavender were all an attempt to keep the tan boy you’d grown very, very fond of, calm.

“Y/n.” He called again, arm over his eyes so he hadn’t a clue that you had been standing there.

“I’m here baby.” You started, carefully moving further into the room. “Are you okay?”

He jumped slightly at the closeness of your voice, the darkness concealing the majority of your figure, sve for the soft glow from the humidifier. But in the sudden movement, he winced and you could feel your chest tighten at the sound. His hand came down to pat the bed beside him, a pout forming on his pink lips. A quiet giggle escaped your mouth at the sight, he resembled a small child who was needy for affection and it made your heart swell. To see him acting normal like this after the events of yesterday was enlightening to say the least.

Once sat beside him, your hand gently brushed through his hair as the other carefully lifted the covers to investigate the large bandage that sat above his hip. He was lucky enough that the woman had bad aim and missed his organs. He sure was happy that he had gained a little bit of extra weight or else he probably wouldn’t have survived. That, and the handiwork of Hyunsik who, luckily enough, works at the hospital but is close friends to Tae as well as Yoongi, so this kind of a call wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him.

While you were lost in your thoughts, eyes glued to the injury, the blonde took a moment to admire your features, soft with a warm glow from the light of the humidifier, relentlessly beautiful. And as if he were a mad man, his large hands grasped your cheeks gently, tugging your face to his to place a firm kiss to your lips. He felt intoxicated when he kissed you, like nothing in the world went wrong and you were the only other person on the planet with him.

The hum you let out against his lips caused a wide, boxy smile to appear. One you hadn’t seen fully since before Kim Seokjin appeared that night in Jungkook’s office. The butterflies were entirely mutual, but he hadn’t a clue that they were. To anyone outside of the relationship, it was obvious you were in love. Madly in love.

But the words that hung at the back of your throat didn’t have the courage to climb out and make themselves known. Pulling his thoughts back to reality, admittedly yours as well, his large palm skimmed down your neck and down between your breasts, trailing down your stomach as he finally rested it in your lap. Long fingers tugged at the fabric of his sweats that adorned your body, his teeth capturing your lower lip between his to graze his pearly whites over. The feeling caused you to moan into his mouth, hands moving to push gently at his shoulders.

“You’re hurt baby, we can’t do that.” Bashful giggles left your mouth as you leaned back against your palms, your eyes meeting his.

He sported a very unconvincing pout, the corners of his lips tugging as you squinted at him. “That doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel better. You are taking care of me afterall, like some kind of hot nurse.”

“Oh, no no. No foreplay, no sex, no nothing until you’re better. I know you’re tough, but I don’t want to hurt you even more okay? It was my fault anyways that you got hurt.” Your eyes fell to your lap were your hands now sat, guilt eating at your mind.

“What the fuck?” The volume of his voice took you by surprise, your eyes meeting once more. “You know that isn’t true.”

“I could’ve checked the store better before just pointing a gun in that kids face.” God, you felt like you’d let him down.

“Hey, neither of us expected there to be anyone else. I could’ve checked the store too, you know? It’s not your fault, I want you to know that.” Large, warm hands took yours, tugging you to lay beside him on the bed. “We both could’ve done better at checking, but you got me to the van. I remember little...snippets, if you will, of you helping hyung. If it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have made it. Okay?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice now. Instead, you carefully tucked into his side, your face seeking a home in the crook of his neck. The two of you laid like this for a while in silence until Taehyung switched on the tv, flicking through the channels aimlessly. That is until the CCTV screencap of the two of you robbing the convenience store was on every news channel. Both of you watched intently as the reporter carried on.

“There have been reports of robberies in the last month by, what seems to be, the same couple. The two remain unnamed, but are armed and dangerous. Yesterday around 3pm, there were shots exchanged by the owner of a G25 near the edge of the city. The owner, Ms. Kim Heejung is in critical condition, and it is hard to tell whether or not she will survive the two bullet wounds. If you have any information about the suspects, we urge you to call 119. Thank you, and we will keep you updated as the story develops.”

Taehyung’s rumbling laughter took you by surprise, your brows knitting together as you moved to look at him. Before you could even question him, he shook his head and put one hand up in surrender.

“I’m not laughing at the fact that that woman has been hospitalized, it’s just funny to me that it took them this long to even broadcast our robberies. At this rate, they’ll never catch us.”

“Shut up, or you’ll jinx us.”

A sly smirk graced his features and you shook your head, moving to get up from the bed. But of course, a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist and anchored you in place. Giggles bubbled from your lips, your eyes rolling heavenward as soft lips left sporadic kisses against your face. Your attempts to push him way proved futile, but the laughter that bubbled between the two of you as you now lay face to face was enough to make butterflies erupt in your stomach. His breath fanned over your face, stray hairs of your own tickling against your skin.

Over the year, Taehyung had grown accustomed to being alone. Sleeping with someone was purely physical for him and he absolutely refused to let anyone spend the night with him afterwards. Feelings were just something that would inevitably leave him in shambles and he couldn’t quite bring himself to do such a lousy thing to himself again. So what was so different about you? Why is he letting you in so close? The laughter died down as these thoughts swirled his cluttered mind, hand resting in its place against your chin; thumb ghosting its pad against your cheek.

“You know, I can see the sadness in your eyes when you think like that.” You whispered, keeping your gaze on his lips as he put his full attention on you. “Whatever it is that makes the cogs in your brain work so furiously like that, that make your eyes seem so lost, I hope you’ll tell me one day.” Where the boldness came from that encouraged you to say this was beyond you. But before the cops catch you both, you opt for getting to know the man who has your heart in his giant, warm palms. All of your life was filled with horrible examples of marriage and family, money and drugs tearing everything at the seems. There was just something about him that made you want to pretend, just for a moment, that love exists and the world isn’t completely overrun by money hungry, sex driven, unintelligent beings with enough empathy to spare for a cockroach.

His touch retracted for a moment, mind stalling at how you were able to read him so well. It didn’t make sense how you were able to see that he was so caught up in his own mind when he had grown so talented at masking everything. The way he pulled away, even if it was for a second, you could feel any courage that grew on those words at the back of your throat had been squandered and replaced with a nauseating feeling of overstepping. And with that, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing.

“I’m going to make sure the blood trail we left is gone, yeah? Just...ring me if you need me, babe.” The tone of your voice faltered slightly, eyes glossed over before exiting the room. How could you have been so bold like that? To assume you know anything about the mystery that is Kim Taehyung?

Your bottom lip was taken between your teeth, hands finding comfort around the glass of wine you had left atop the piano. The keys seemed to beg to be touched, but you couldn’t be bothered to remember the sickeningly bittersweet lies that tangled with the melodies you’d practiced until your fingers hurt. Maybe you were in fact defective like your uncle had said all those years ago, incapable of anything but destruction and caressing those ivory keys you begged so fervently to save you.

-

a/n: AHHHH! an update, fiNALLY! again, i am so so so sorry this took so long to post but i had a lot going on. its also past midnight and ive been up for nearly 30 hours so i apologize for any mistakes that were left in, im posting this without editing it three times like i usually do (pls go easy on me). i hope you guys enjoy this series as much as i do, and feedback is always appreciated! x

[kashmier05]

How I WIN at 안전토토사이트 with my best system - THE SUPERBET

However, it is depressed if the player switches a card, which still costs the price of the Ante bet.This variant has never been analyzed, as far as I know. A player may wish to make multiple different bets. For example, a player may be wish to bet $1 on all hard ways and the horn. If one of the bets win the dealer may automatically replenish the losing bet with profits from the winning bet. According to The Tech of a Casino (TechTV, June 2002), casinos use a variety of tricks to attract gamblers. There are gamblers known as the “advantage gamblers” who cannot gamble unless the odds favor them.

This same reference states that only "29.6% of total rolls are come out rolls, on average", so for this alternative metric, needing extra rolls to resolve the pass line bet, for example, is factored. http://edition.cnn.com/search/?text=더킹카지노 The Dealer Must Qualify – The dealer must qualify with an ace-king or higher or the player automatically wins the Ante Bet. The lowest qualifying hand would be A-K-4-3-2, while the highest non-qualifying hand would be A-Q-J-10-9. If the dealer fails to qualify, the player would win the ante bet and the raise bet would be a push. For this purpose aces count as 1 or 11, face cards as 10, and the rest at their index value. Generally accepted as the first is a Florentine ban dating to 1377.Also appearing in 1377 was the treatise by John of Rheinfelden, in which he describes playing cards and their moral meaning.

*If the player wins and the dealer does qualify the Ante bet is paid at 1 to 1 and the Call bets is paid according to the following paytable; Casinos running on the GameSys software platform offer an alternative version of Caribbean Stud Poker called ‘Caribbean Advanced Poker’. Also found in Flanders, they come in decks of 32 no twos to sixes or 52 cards. The Trente et Quarante pattern is named after the game it is associated with. Unlike other patterns, it is usually found only in casinos. Baccarat lies in the district (arrondissement) of Lunéville in the department of Meurthe-et-Moselle. The French-Swiss pattern shares the same descent from the North-German pattern's Hamburg parent but their most distinguishing characteristic is that instead of having corner indices, white Arabic numerals are found within the pips closest to the corner.

This deck was originally created to allow more players in a game of euchre. The illustrations on these early decks were influenced by Rouen designers like Pierre Marechal c.1567. The Japanese television series Kamen Rider Blade uses the playing cards and their symbols as an overall motif for the series.Additionally, Germany – who led in the early European card production – used the suits of hearts, bells, leaves, and acorns (McGuire, 2016).

Conversely, you can take back (pick up) a don't pass or don't come bet after the first roll, but this cannot be recommended, because you already endured the disadvantaged part of the combination – the first roll. In Deuces Wild, the payout for a four of a kind makes up approximately ⅓ of the payback percentage of the game, and a four of a kind occurs on average approximately every fifteen hands. Casinos typically accept all bets made by patrons within an established limit, so that a patron cannot win more than a casino can afford to pay.This is the earliest point any player could have a valid bingo.

If a player wishes to "hop the sevens" there would be three different combinations and six possible ways to roll a 7 (6–1, 5–2, 4–3, 3–4, 2–5, 1–6) therefore the player should bet in multiples of 3 so the bet can be divided among each combination with a 15:1 payout minus the other two bets, otherwise if players does not bet in multiples of 3, they would specific which combination has additional units. Essentially, when you split in blackjack it increases your number of opportunities to win. This could mean standing on a hard 13 as there is a good chance the dealer will go bust. Aiming to hit 21 often leads to going bust.A similar plan by the New Jersey Lottery died in 1983 after ties between state officials and VLT manufacturers raised conflict of interest concerns.

Two is "snake eyes", because the two ones that compose it look like a pair of small, beady eyes. When the dealer is finished making payouts, the marker is removed from the board where players collect their winnings and make new bets. The winning chips remain on the board. Besides asking players to leave or play another game, casinos also combat card counting by changing the rules slightly or shuffling the deck more often.ou can turn the tables by using effective casino bankroll management techniques.

The Baccarat Museum at 2 Rue des Cristalleries Players compete against one another to be the first to have a winning arrangement for the prize or jackpot. After a winner is declared, the players clear their number cards of the tiles and the game host begins a new round of play. In the US, the game is primarily staged by churches or charity organizations. 메이저공원 Another option open to the player is doubling their bet when the original two cards dealt total 9, 10, or 11.

[prairiesongserial]

3.10

Pem wasn’t hard to pick out from the crowd, once Cody scanned the room for him. He was wearing a red tuxedo with black cuffs and lapels, sitting at one of the blackjack tables. Cody was unsurprised to see numbers stamped on his hand. Borrowing from the house had been part of the plan - Pem had left some of his money back at the camp, so the workers at La Salle wouldn’t be able to get a bead on how much he really had, and think he was a rube for indebting himself to them. He hadn’t done it the first time he’d gambled there, but apparently not borrowing the house made them more apt to keep an eye on you.

“Once you borrow from them, even once, they figure they’ve suckered you,” he’d told Cody. “They stop paying you so much special attention as soon as you’ve got that hand stamp.”

Cody continued scanning the room once he’d found Pem, trying to look like he was deciding what to play. He’d circle around to the Mia tables eventually, but until Pem was finished at the blackjack table, he had some time to himself. He looked for John, too, searching the face of each dealer but ultimately coming up empty.

“Games currently in play are roulette, baccarat, pai gow, red dog poker, blackjack, and Mia,” Ombre said, from Cody’s elbow. She didn’t give him the spiel about borrowing from the house. Presumably she figured that either he remembered how it worked, or he wasn’t about to borrow a dime from La Salle Rouge. She was right on both counts.

Pem hadn’t moved from his game of blackjack. He seemed to be making back the chips he’d borrowed, with interest, and Cody wondered if he was counting cards. Still waiting for him, Cody made his way over to one of the roulette tables, hanging back and watching for a bit. Roulette seemed popular at La Salle, maybe because it was a hard game for anyone to cheat at, except for the house. Cody thought there were probably ways to rig a roulette wheel, maybe with magnets or a weighted ball. But assuming La Salle kept things on the straight and narrow, roulette was the only game in the gambling hall that didn’t rely on any skill whatsoever. Only luck.

The woman standing closest to Cody looked over her shoulder at him, and shuffled over a little, so he could get a glimpse at the table. He filled in the gap she’d left behind, not really intending to place a bet - the wheel was already spinning, anyway. By the time he could actually see it, the ball had landed. Thirty-four red. A few people in the crowd around the table cheered, presumably people who’d bet on red, or evens. The dealer gathered up the bets on the table, and divided them between the people who’d won, handing a stack of chips to each of them.

“Aren’t you going to bet?” the woman next to Cody asked, as everyone around the table began placing their chips down for the next round.

Cody considered it. Pem looked like he was still content over at the blackjack table, and it wasn’t like there was anything else to do inside La Salle but drink and gamble. If he only bet one chip on roulette, he could lose it, and still have four left over for Mia. Or he could win, and potentially double the amount of chips he’d be going into Mia with. He and Pen were going to split the Mia winnings no matter how things shook out, but why not try to give himself an advantage while he could?

“Yeah, fuck it,” he said, taking one of his chips and putting it down on red. He’d never played roulette before, but he knew enough about it to know that betting on red or black was the safest option. You had a fifty-fifty shot at winning, if you bet on either that, or on evens or odds.

Surprisingly, a good portion of people around the table placed their bets on individual numbers. Cody noticed that those people all seemed to be betting a stack of chips, rather than just one or two at a time.

Probably the high rollers, he thought, as the dealer gave the roulette wheel a spin and dropped the ball down. The kind of people who get invited upstairs. Hopefully they’re not sore losers.

The roulette wheel slowed, and slowed some more, and then stopped, the ball clattering to a halt in one of its chambers. Red seven. Cody sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“Hey, you won!” the woman next to him said, jostling him with her elbow.

“Yeah,” Cody said, watching the dealer divide up the winnings, counting the number of chips in each stack. Four per winner. He really had almost doubled the amount of money he’d walked in here with.

The dealer slid his stack of winnings over towards him, and Cody took it, carefully adding it to the four chips already clutched in his other hand. Most of the people at the table were already starting to place their bets for the next round of roulette, and he was tempted to join in, but knew to quit while he was ahead. He’d seen where the impulse to keep gambling had gotten John, after all, and being in debt wasn’t a part of his plan with Pem. He pocketed his chips, the weight of them in his pocket almost comforting, and made his way towards one of the Mia tables.

Pem met him there shortly after. Cody had watched him leave the blackjack table and circle around the room, almost prowling, appraising all of the games before ambling casually over. Cody almost envied how cool Pem was being, stopping to chat with dealers and attendants, getting himself a drink from the bar. Pem had done this before, that much was obvious. Cody had thought he wouldn’t be nervous, but he felt it deep in his gut as he approached the Mia tables - a ripple of anxiety, a keyed-up kind of shakiness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You two want in on this round?” the dealer watching the table said, nodding their head vaguely towards Cody and Pem. Mia didn’t need a dealer, not really, but Cody got the sense that they were there as an overseer, to make sure everyone was playing fair. That made things a little more interesting.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Pem said, grinning easily at the dealer. He sat, slipping in between the two people already at the table - a woman with a jewel-studded eyepatch, and a man wearing a dust mask over the bottom half of his face. Maybe a mutant, Cody thought. Maybe they were both mutants. This didn’t seem like the kind of establishment that would take kindly to mutants, but even mutants had money to lose, he supposed.

The dealer was still looking at him, he realized. Waiting for an answer. He had almost given himself and Pem away already, letting Pem answer for them both. He swallowed. “Yeah, I’m in.” He sat down on the other side of the table, right across from Pem. The dealer passed them both a die - the one they’d use to keep track of how many lives they had left, Cody realized. He set his carefully down near the edge of the table, with the six facing up.

“Welcome to Mia, then. I’m Jacquet, your arbiter. Everyone knows the rules?” the dealer asked. Cody, Pem, and the woman with the eyepatch all nodded.

“I’d feel a little more confident if we could squeeze in a practice round,” the man with the dust mask said, his voice muffled but mostly coherent. It was throaty and hoarse, with a Southern sort of accent that Cody couldn’t quite place.

Jacquet considered this for a moment. “I don’t see why not,” they conceded, their expression doing nothing to betray how they really felt about it. They set two red dice down on the table, and covered them with a metal cup, passing them to Pem. “One practice round. Everyone has one life. Last person standing wins the pot - but there’s nothing in it right now. I won’t make you lose chips on practice.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Pem said, smiling. He shook the cup, just enough to roll the dice around inside, and put it down on the table, lifting the rim to look inside.

“Twenty-two,” he said, passing the dice to the left, to the man with the dust mask. “I don’t think I got everyone’s name. I’m Pemberly, but Pem’s a lot easier for most people, I’ve found.”

“Jesse Nash,” the man said. What little of his face showed around the mask was handsome. He had piercing green eyes so pale the irises almost seemed white, and a scar that began just above one eyebrow, curving around his eye and down his cheekbone. His jawline was sharp, spotted with stubble, and his hair was carefully combed back from his face, held into place with - Cody assumed - pomade. “Nash, to just about everyone. The lady over there’s my traveling companion, Cole.”

“I could have introduced myself,” the woman with the eyepatch said, her voice lilting with amusement. Instead of a dress, she wore a black suit smartly tailored to her measurements. Her dark hair was bobbed, cut in sharp, angular lines across her browline and just under her ears. She was also wearing makeup, Cody noticed - she’d probably done it in the dressing room.

“I thought I’d get it out of the way,” Nash said, sounding equally amused. He looked under the cup, and hummed in thought.

“Twenty-two,” he said finally, passing the cup to Cody.

“I’m Cody,” Cody offered, resting one hand on top of the cup. “Cody Allison.” He looked down at the cup, then up to Nash. “I think you’re lying.”

“See for yourself, then,” Nash said. His eyes crinkled up at the edges, like he was grinning under the mask.

Cody lifted the cup, and felt his heart sink. Underneath, both dice both showed a two, plain as day. Twenty-two.

“Mr. Allison loses a life, and is out of the round,” Jacquet announced. “Miss Cole will re-roll the dice and continue with the round.”

Cody set the cup back down, and leaned back in his chair as he passed the dice to Cole. She winked at him with her one good eye, lips curling into a small smile.

“Bad luck, Mr. Allison,” she said, in a tone that suggested she wasn’t really sympathetic at all.

3.9 || 3.11

[promptlists]

Childhood Crush (Gil X Reader)

Words: 2846 Requested: Yes! Warnings: Fluff, Swearing

Prompt A: I need you stop biting your lip like that B: You what? A: Seriously, it’s like you’re purposely trying to sabotage my attempts to forget that I’m completely in love with you. B: Hold on, rewind a little. Did you just say you loved me? A:Shit! Fuck! Did I just say that out loud?

A/N: I tweaked the wording of the prompt a little so that it better fits Gil’s character - but yeah, it’s stil basically the same

“You give her that back you big bully!” You yelled, storming towards a pirate, pointing an accusing finger. You may have only been small but you could sure as hell shout, and soon you were squaring up to the boy in front of you. “Y/N! What a pleasure to see ye” Harry exclaimed, taking a wad of paper notes from his mouth and grinning at you. You scowled. “Stealing from children Harry, that’s a new low even for you. Give it her back” You said plainly, looking back at Dizzy who was cowering behind you. The pirate had charged in to the “Curl up and Dye”, demanding her days wages before knocking a tables worth of hair dyes and combs onto the floor. You were less than impressed. “I’m sorry sweetheart, no can do,” the pirate continued, spinning on his heels and whistling as he went to leave the building. You glanced to your right, where Dizzy was sweeping up Harry’s mess glumly, staring at the floor. He wasn’t going to get away with this. “Still running around after Uma I guess. You always were like her slave” you called after him, hoping to bruise his ego enough for him to return. It worked. He froze in the door frame, his eyes narrowed as he met your gaze. “A little rich coming from ye isn’t it princess? Still following your sister around blindly?”. You rolled your eyes. It always came back to Mal. You were the youngest daughter of Maleficent, meaning you were always compared to your purple haired big sister. Usually you didn’t mind, you and Mal were pretty similar after all, but the constant comparison was growing tiring. “Leave Mal out of this” You warned, taking another step towards the pirate and plucking the money from his hands and throwing it towards Dizzy, who caught it with both hands. “You’ll regret that little witch” Harry snarled, grabbing the back of your fore arm. “I wouldn’t bet on it” You spat back, making the first mate chuckle manically.

Maybe he should have bet on it. Dizzy may have got her money back but now you were being dragged through the back alleyways of the Isle’s streets, with your hands tied behind your back. Harry was stronger than you had anticipated, so it didn’t take him long to have you pinned against a wall as he fastened rope around wrists. You were on your way to Ursula’s Fish and Chip Shop you could tell, the stench of decaying seafood detectable from miles away. You glanced at the pirate who was holding you hostage, sniggering to yourself. Although you looked pretty harmless you had been taught to fight from a young age, so even though Harry may have won, he didn’t escape your scrap unharmed. There was dark purple bruise staring to form under his eye, from where you had swung a punch at him. A sense of accomplishment washed over you knowing that the pirate wouldn’t be bothering Dizzy again for a while, as Harry grunted a little in pain. Served the cocky little shit right.

The doors to the fish and chip shop swung open, the combination of  the bustling atmosphere and questionable smells making your head ache slightly. You had never really eaten there before, the fierce rivalry between your sister and Uma herself, repelling you from ever entering. You didn’t think you missed out on much. The pirate, dragged you by the arm into the furthest corner in the restaurant, pushing you down onto a bar stool. You sighed impatiently. “Harry! What happened to your face?” You looked around to see a the son of Gaston, staring at Harry with a mixture of confusion and excitement. Harry caught you grinning smugly to yourself and scowled back at you before turning to his friend. “Nothing to do with ye Gil” He grumbled, still glaring at you. You raised your eyebrows with mock innocence in return. “Hold on a second Harry…” Gil gasped as if he’d come to a staggering revelation. He looked at you, then at Harry, then back at you. “Did you get beaten up by tiny little Y/N? Again?” You spluttered with laughter at the word again. You and Harry were known not to see eye to eye. When the pirate did nothing but scowl more, Gil erupted into huge fits of belly laughter, gaining glares from the customers around him. You were reminded immediately why you liked the boy. “Gil shut ye mouth now” “You did!” Gil exclaimed, clearly proud with himself “You got beaten up by Y/N! Wait till Uma hears! Uma come listen to this!” He was still laughing until Harry stood up beside him, tapping him on the end of his nose with his hook. Gil gulped and quickly shut up. “What the hell is going on out here?” Uma appeared from out of the kitchen, an unamused expression painted on her face. ‘Uma!’ Gil shouted, excited “You missed it. Harry just got beaten up by-” “Me” You said, speaking up for the first time, diverting everybody’s gaze towards you. Uma lips flickered upwards in a smirk for a split second before returning to a poker face. “Well well well well” she said making her way towards you, Harry following grinning behind her “Would you look what the cat dragged in?” “Actually I was dragged in here by that mindless pig that you call a servant” It was enough to agitate the first mate, causing him to lunge for you. Uma put her hand on his shoulder and he relented, simply waving his hook at you menacingly. “Harry chill,” the daughter of Ursula sighed. “I don’t see why you just won’t let me hook her,” Harry replied, reaching forwards and sweeping the hair out of your eyes with his hook. When he pressed his face continually closer to yours, you decided enough was enough, taking it upon yourself to spit directly in his face. What? You valued your personal space.

Harry recoiled, but not before taking a swing at you with his hook, cutting your cheek which now ran with blood. “You little bi-” the pirate snarled, before being pushed out of he way by Gil. “Hey guys what are we looking a-” Gil took one look at your face and jumped back a little “God damn it guys, you hurt her!” You were doing all you could not to cry, but the searing pain along your cheek bone was making it increasingly more difficult not to. You stopped yourself before a tear could slip, biting your lip instead. You were the daughter of Maleficent, you were not going to burst into tears about a little cut. “Harry! To the back with me! Now!” Growled Uma, grabbing the pirate by the arm and dragging him away. He had the audacity to blow a kiss to you as he sauntered away. “Go choke on a catfish!” You yelled at him as he left your sight, attempting to wipe away a droplet of blood with the back of your sleeve, but failing. It was harder than it looked when your hands were tied behind your back. “I’ll go get the first aid kit” said a chirpy voice from behind you “Wait there” You shot around to see Gil wandering off into the back of the shop, leaving you sat on your stool alone. You could have run out of those doors quite easily, rallied up your friends and dragged them back down there to get revenge. But you didn’t. You sat and waited for Gil to return.

“Gil, I really appreciate this, but I’m not so sure I need three gauzes stuck to my face” you laughed. You grinned as the boy wrapped the majority of your head, including your eyes and ears, in a thick white bandage on top of the seven plasters he had stuck over you wound. All of this for a cut that was two centimetres wide at the most. “You think you might need four?” Gil asked confused. “I think we might need to lose the bandage” “Okay” he replied simply, unravelling it from your head. Once you could finally see and hear again you couldn’t help but smile at the boy who was grinning back at you. “Thanks I guess-” You began but were interrupted. “It’s fine. It’s not like I didn’t used to do it when we were little”. The comment caught you off guard. You weren’t expecting it. You were a clumsily kid, always the child to fall over and cut their knee. Gil was a kind kid, always the child to give you a plaster and his apple from his lunch box. “Yeah, I’d forgotten about that” There was a long, but not uncomfortable, silence. “You’re funny you know” Gil started. “Am I?” You asked slightly confused, only to be met with vigorous nodding from Gaston’s youngest son. “Yeah! It’s funny when you embarrass Harry. He’ll be really mad you know, he hates when it when people do that to him. But it’s okay I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you again” “Thank you Gil but there’s really no need” you said quickly,  trying to get him to drop the topic as you saw Harry and Uma enter the main restaurant again. Something told you Harry would not be thrilled with Gil talking about him or helping the girl that was supposed to be their hostage. The poor boy was blissfully unaware and continued to ramble. “It’s usually me who makes Harry mad. He doesn’t like you I think but that’s okay, I like you and he doesn’t like anybody except for Uma anyway” He was still talking as the two approached. You were trying desperately to warn him but he wouldn’t let you get a word in edge ways. “Actually, I don’t think Uma likes you either,” Gil frowned before continuing “But that’s not your fault. She’s still mad about that time your sister put shrimp in her and everyb-” “AND YOU NEED TO STOP TALKING” Gil whipped his head around to Uma, shouting in his ear and giving him the dirtiest look. “Come on mate. Outside. Now. You know where to go”. Harry hoisted Gil upwards and walked behind him as he trudged out of Ursula’s Fish and Chip Shop, plonking himself down on the step by the entrance. Something told you this wasn’t the first time this had happened. He tried to walk back inside but Harry pushed him back out, his hook held to his chest. That time he stayed put. Uma was still glaring at you. “You’re going to stay here until Mal comes for you. Got it?” It wasn’t so much of a question so much as it was an order. “Are you really going to use me as bait so you can continue to argue with my sister? Doesn’t that sound a little petty?” “Guess what, I just so happen to be a petty person” Uma snapped before, walking to lecture Gil outside.

The next time somebody spoke to you again it was Gil. As soon as Uma and Harry let him back in he inched his way towards you looking sheepish but deep in thought. He stopped in front of you and took a deep breath. “Uma says to tell you that I’m not allowed to talk to you even though you’re really pretty and you make me laugh because you stand up to Harry and it’s funny when you make him look stupid” He grinned at himself, clearly proud that he had delivered the message he was told to. Something told you that the message had changed a little from when Uma had first told him, but you didn’t say anything. You felt your cheeks slowly start to flush red as you blushed uncontrollably. He thought you were pretty. You cursed yourself in your mind. There was no way you were going to lose your cool simply because Gil complimented you. But you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “I remember one time when we were seven…” “Harry said that you couldn’t play with me because you were a girl so you dumped your whole carton of milk over his head and then stomped on his toe” Gil laughed. “Yeah! You remember that?” You started to chew on your lip a little. You had always been close with Gil as children, practically inseparable, but something happened when he met Uma and you started to hang out with your sisters friends. The two of you drifted apart. “Of course I remember! We used to spend all our time together but you didn’t like Harry and Harry told me it was pointless me having a crush on you…” As soon as he said the words he bolted upright “Forget I said that last bit” You chewed down on your lip further, practically drawing blood. Because it was all flooding back, your first childhood crush at the age of five years old was stood beaming a smile at you. “It’s been forgotten” There was an awkward silence between the two of you, neither knowing what to say. You were still biting your lip, the metallic taste lingering in your mouth confirming that it was, in fact,  bleeding. “I need you stop biting your lip like that” Gil said eventually. “You what?” You looked at the boy as if he was going crazy, but he refused to drag his eyes away from your lips. How long had he been staring at them. “Seriously. If Uma and Harry knows I’ve been thinking about kissing you they’ll kill me. Plus, I’ve been trying to forget that I’m in love with you Y/N and you’re not helping” You were completely and utterly stunned. There was a lot of new information dropped into that sentence. New information that changed a lot of things. A lot. “Hold on, rewind a little. Did you just say you loved me?” Gil’s eyes widened with alarm “Oh no! Did I just say that out loud?” He jumped up from where he was sat beside me and began to pace up and down. “I just made things weird didn’t I, I messed things up again” “Gil relax,” you said softly “I’ve missed you” You were telling the truth. Although you were friends with the core-four like your sister you had missed Gil more than you wanted to admit. He may have been goofy and he may have a knack for saying the wrong things at the wrong time, but he had good intentions and you loved him for it. That and the fact that he wasn’t too bad on the eyes. “You.. Missed me?” Questioned Gil looking slightly dazed. “Yes you, you buffoon” Gil broke out into the widest grin and let out a giddy giggle. You practically melted on your barstool. “I’ve missed you too Y/N! Wait till I tell Um- Maybe that’s not the best idea” “No, it’s probably not” you chuckled. “Does this mean we can be friends again?” Your heart sunk a little. You had always wanted to be more than friends with Gil. Always. Even at five years old. Former Y/N knew what she wanted. She got stuff done. “Friends?” “Who am I kidding Y/N. I Kind of think I love you” Gil took another step towards you and cut the ties on your hands, wrapping you in a hug. You hugged him back, breathing into the crook of his neck as he spun you around. “I kind of think I love you too”. He put you back down, setting you on top of a table. “I know we just decided that we are going to be friends…” you raised your eyebrow at the the word but he continued anyway “…again but you should probably get out of here before Uma and Harry come back. I’ll meet you at the docks tonight” You gave him a quick nod. “They’ll kill you if they know you let me go” “Then they’ll just not have to know will they” He grinned at you but you rolled your eyes. Gil was the worst person to keep a secret, he’d probably tell them himself by accident. “Okay Gil,” you whispered “I’ll see you around”. You leaned forwards and kissed his cheek causing his whole face to burn bright red. “I’ll… Um… I.. guess… that um…. I’ll see you around… Um too” And with that you walked out of the Fish and Chip shop, fully prepared to start a brand new chapter with the son of Gaston. You sent an imaginary thank you to Harry Hook. If he hadn’t have been such an asshole, you would have never re-discovered your childhood crush.

[argyle-s]

The Shape of Things To Come Chapter 2/?

Rating:  Mature

Read at Ao3

Start at the Beginning

Two weeks after she arrived in the past, Kara goes for a job interview, and reaches out to an old friend.

Update: This story has now been betaed by @ifourmindbeso.  Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.

Chapter 2 - Taunting Cerberus, Challenging Athena

National City. Earth 38, September 14th, 2014

Kara walked into Noonan’s at seven minutes after eight, dressed in a purple and white checked dress, a purple cardigan, and carrying a large brown leather bag with her resumé tucked inside.  She’d been eating there every morning for the last two weeks, chatting with people she’d worked with while she’d been in college, and watching Cat’s assistants come and go.  She’d seen Winn, once.  She’d been careful not to notice him, even though her face wanted to split wide open in a smile.  It had been so long since Indigo had killed him, and all she wanted to do was pick him up and hug him within an inch of his life.  She’d had to be careful though, because she wasn’t alone.

She’d been in the past for two days when she’d first spotted Rogers.  Miller and Stevens had joined the follow team the next day.  Wentworth has always been better at surveillance than anyone else in the DEO’s field teams, so Kara wasn’t sure if she’s missed the plain-looking woman the second day, or if she just hadn’t been there, but she’d definitely spotted her the third day.  Kara wasn’t sure if she should be annoyed or flattered that J’onn had four agents on her, but either way, it had to stop.  She needed to move freely, which she could not do if she had to keep ditching tails any time she needed to do something away from prying eyes.

Which was why she walked right up to Wentworth’s table and sat down, because Wentworth was the one least likely to shoot first and ask questions later.

“Um…” the woman said.

“Hey, Katie,” Kara said, as she waved over a waitress.

“I’m sorry, I think you have me mistaken for someone else,” Wentworth said.

“Katheryn Michelle Wentworth.  Born in Fairfax, Virginia.  Undergraduate degree in Criminal Justice with a minor in biology from Georgia State University.  Odd mix, but it’s part of the reason you were recruited into the DEO.  Of course, that was after you did a masters in Criminal Justice, and spent three years in Metropolis working in the Science Police division.  I could keep going but…” She held up a finger as the waitress came into earshot.

“What can I get you ladies?” the waitress asked.

Kara smiled up at her.  “Hey, Sally.  I’d like three of the Orange sticky buns, a pumpkin spiced latte with extra foam and cinnamon on top, a bowl of fruit salad, and a slice of the death by chocolate, with extra maraschino cherries.  My friend will have the cranberry bagel with peanut butter, a large lemon zinger tea with honey, and a Georgia peach if you have any, otherwise she’ll have two California plums, but she needs hers to go.”

The waitress nodded.  “Separate checks?”

“No, my treat today.”

“I’ll have it right up for you gals,” the waitress said as she walked away.

Kara turned back to Wentworth.  “You have a terrible poker face,” she said, when she saw how large the agent’s eyes had gotten.  “That can’t be helpful in your line of work.”

“I-“

“Don’t know what I’m talking about.  I get it.  I mean, when you drag Rogers, Miller and Stevens back to the DEO and tell Hank what happened, he’s going to be grumpy.  Well, extra grumpy.  He’s always a little grumpy, except when he’s eating Choco’s.  In fact, I can hear him now.”  Kara’s voice dropped several octaves.  “‘You mean to tell me four of my best agents got made by a little girl?’”

Kara grinned and leaned forward.  “You like that?  The way I kind of dragged out the word ‘girl’ the same way he would, because he always drags out the last word when he’s yelling at you.”  Kara tilted her head.  “Or do you think he’ll go with ‘pretty blonde’?  Personally, I think he’ll go with little girl, but he could go with ‘pretty blonde’.  He seems to find it personally insulting when pretty young blondes are competent.  It could go either way I suppose, but I’d be willing to bet you fifty bucks he goes with ‘little girl’.”

She leaned back, watching the absolutely flabbergasted look on Wentworth’s face.  She wanted to cut the woman some slack, she really did, but she needed to make a point to J’onn to get him to back off, which meant it was time to get just a little bit scary.

“Now, I imagine you’re thinking about those special green bullets you have, just in case.  Because you’re terrified.  How did the big, scary alien know all this stuff?  Don’t.  I promise you, I can have all four of you disarmed and the guns field-stripped on the table in front of me before one of you could even get your hand to your weapon, much less draw it, drop your magazine, reload with the magazine full of kryptonite bullets and cycle the action to get a kryptonite round into the chamber.”

Kara turned and reached into her bag, and pulled out the custom printed card she’d picked up from the stationary shop that morning.  She slid it across the table to Wentworth.

“Now, I am going to sit here, and eat my breakfast.  In about 90 minutes, I’m going to walk across the plaza, into the CatCo building for a job interview.  If I see any DEO agents when I come out of the building, I will turn back around, walk right back inside and give Cat Grant, Queen of All Media, one hell of an exclusive on the secret alien prison being run by a super-secret non-existent government agency in the desert northeast of town.”

“You should take that,” she said, pointing at the card, “to director Henshaw and tell him Lady Kara, Chatelaine of the House of El, Daughter of Zor-El and Alura In-Ze and the last daughter of Krypton says to back off.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, and Kara could feel the tension in the room.  All four agents were staring at her as she leaned back and watched Wentworth.  Kara could see the woman had pretty much no idea how to handle the situation.  It was one thing to get made by a target, but Kara hadn’t just made her, she’d blown the whole detail, possibly even the whole DEO.  The woman had to see Kara as a threat and the DEO’s job was to neutralize alien threats.  But she also knew there was absolutely no way four unprepared humans could take a Kryptonian who had the drop on them, and even worse, there was no way they could do it covertly.  And there was the message for the director.

The waitress broke the tension.  She turned up with a tray, and started setting down Kara’s sticky buns and cake.  “Someday, you’re going to have to tell me how you can eat like this, and still look like that,” she said as she sat the bowl of fruit in front of Kara.

Kara smiled up at her.  “I’m an alien,” she said.

Wentworth just reached up and covered her face with both hands and Kara could just hear her mutter “I am so screwed.”

***

Setting foot inside the CatCo building again was one of the hardest things Kara had done in a long time.  Not because she didn’t want to, but because she wanted it so much, had wanted it so much for the past ten years.  Kara had loved CatCo, right up until the very end.  Right up until the day Cadmus’s last abomination had come for her.

Right up into the day she’d had to kill Jeremiah Danvers.

She’d done everything she could, tried every trick she knew to lure the monster that had once been her foster father away from CatCo, but nothing had worked.  She hadn’t found out until later that he had been given specific orders to kill Cat, James and Winn.  Winn had been at the DEO, working with Vasquez to crack Cadmus’s firewalls and when Kara had landed on Cat’s balcony, knowing the building was about to go, Cat had just shoved Carter and an unconscious Snapper Carr into her arms.  Kara had known what it meant and for a brief moment, she’d considered leaving Snapper to die and taking Cat instead, but in the end she’d done what she always did when Cat told her to do something.

Snapper had come up to her weeks later to thank her for saving his life.  She’d looked at him for a long time and told him that it he really wanted to thank her, he would leave National City and never come back.  It was far from her finest moment, but she could never quite bring herself to regret it, because in all her life she’d never quite come to hate a man as much as she did Snapper.  Even when the world was burning around her, even when Darkseid’s armies were marching across the multiverse, she’d never found it in herself to forgive him for needing to be saved that day, for being alive when Cat Grant wasn’t.

One of the reasons she’d been spending time at Noonan’s was to take the edge off those memories, but she still had to stop and take a deep breath before she set foot inside the building.

This was a good day, she told herself.  A good day.  One of the happiest of her life.  Today, she met Winn and today she met Cat Grant.

She took one more deep breath, and opened the door, walking right up to the security desk.

“Kara Danvers,” she said.  “I have a 10:15 appointment with Cat Grant.”

***

“Excuse me, pardon me,” Kara said as she slipped between people to escape the elevator, hoping she got the timing right.  She took one step out, then two and sure enough, on the fourth step, Winn plowed right into her.  “Oh!  I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean it.  Sorry,” she said, smiling as she turned to walk towards Cat’s office.

After a moment’s hesitation, he followed her.  “That’s okay.  I’m Winn… Schott… Junior.  And who are you?”

“Kara Danvers,” she said, sticking her hand out.  He took it, and she squeezed just a little too hard as she shook it.

“Oh, WOW.  That’s quite a firm handshake you’ve got there.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said.  “I work out.”  The earlier pain and hesitation gone.  She suddenly wanted to laugh, to jump for joy and to hug Winn at the same time.  Winn.  He was standing in front of her again and things were right with the in a way they hadn’t been in a long time.  She’d played this day through in her mind so many times.  One of the happiest of her life.  The day she’d met one of her best friends and she’d met Cat Grant, who was a friend, a mentor, her inspiration and one of her heroes, both in the span of about five minutes and now, she was here again.

“Yeah?” Winn asked.

“I mean, um, I read in this article somewhere that when you’re going for a big interview you should start with a firm shake,” she said, trying to project the awkwardness she’d felt the first time she lived through this day.  She wasn’t sure she succeeded, because she could feel the smile on her face, but it seemed to work, because Winn responded exactly as she remembered.

“Um, interview?  What job?”

“Assistant to Cat Grant,” she said, letting the pride she’d always taken in that title show through.

“Oh.  Does her current assistant know she’s, uh…"

Right on cue, the assistant in question walked by, crying.  Kara felt a small tug of pity, because she knew how mean this Cat - younger, more bitter, before Supergirl and the change the Hero had wrought in the woman - could be.  She didn’t let it stop her though, because the girl’s departure was what opened the door for Kara, and Kara was going to step through it again and reclaim a life she’d believed lost to her.   This time, she was going to do better, by herself, by Cat, and by everyone else.

“She knows,” Winn said.

“Okay, next!” Cat’s voice rang out through the bullpen, and Kara had to force herself to keep her feet on the ground because she wanted to fly just at the sound of it.

“Oh, is that you?” Winn asked.

“Where’s my 10:15?” Cat called.

“I guess that’s me.  Any advice?”

“Nah,” Winn said.  “Just be yourself.”

Kara nodded.  “Right.  Myself.  I can do that.”  Kara reached out, giving his shoulder a small squeeze.  “Thanks,” she said, before turning and heading into the office.

“Hello, Ms. Grant,” she said.

Cat took one look at her and rolled her eyes.  “Oh, for God’s sake.”  Cat turned away from her, looking up at the wall of video screens.  “I told them not to send me any more millennials.”

Kara felt the grin on her face get wider, and didn’t even try to fight it.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

Cat sighed, too caught up in her own melodrama to catch the hint of amusement in Kara’s tone.  “You are the ultimate example of what is wrong with parenting today.  All that God-awful self-esteem building.  Everyone is special.  Everyone gets a trophy.  And you all have opinions that you think deserve to be heard.  And yet, the truth is, you need to earn the right to have an opinion in the first place.”

Cat did a slow turn, something Kara recognized as one of her power moves, and that’s when Kara noticed the first change.  Cat looked at her, and there was something different…  A moment of hesitation before she spoke.  “So, my ten fifteen, tell me why you’re so special.”

Kara felt just a moment of fear, because this is where she was going to make the first change that could do real damage.  Her relationship with Cat had been tenuous that first year, and she wanted to shore it up, make it stronger so that she wouldn’t have to hide her dual identity from her for so long. She thought she knew Cat well enough to predict how the change would affect things, but she knew a very different Cat Grant.  A post-Supergirl Cat Grant.  This was the Cat Grant that had gone over a year without realizing Kara was adopted, or that she had a sister, or acknowledging Winn’s existence.  This was a Cat Grant who, when she stepped away from her son, turned off any emotions other than ambition, irritation and disdain.  A Cat Grant who’d forgotten how to hope.  Not the woman she’d eventually called a friend.

“I’m not,” Kara said.  There was no hesitation in her voice this time.  Instead, there was confidence, self-assurance.  She let the woman Supergirl had made her show through.  Cat stopped shuffling papers as looked up at her as she continued.  “I’m special at all, Ms. Grant.  Just a normal girl.”

“Yes,” Cat said.  “You are.”

Kara nodded.  “Absolutely.  Just average little Kara Danvers.  Average strength, average hearing.” Kara laughed as she reached up and adjusted her glasses.  “Less than average vision.”

Cat leaned back in her chair, considering her for a moment.  “You’re not really selling me on hiring you.”

Kara smiles a little wider.  “I thought you’d prefer the truth, Ms. Grant.  The agency probably has a dozen other applicants with resumes every bit as impressive as mine.  I know that.  I know there’s a line of people desperate for this job.  But I’m here because I’m committed.  I want to help.”

“That’s refreshing,” Cat replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and she picked up a pen and started marking up a set of layouts.

“I mean it, Ms. Grant.  I want to help.  I can do whatever you need.  Run to the pharmacy, pick up your dry cleaning, stand in line at midnight to make sure your son gets the latest game he wants,” Kara reached over and picked up a pen out of the holder on Cat’s desk, “or make sure your pens get refilled when they run out of ink.”

Cat looked up and took the pen from her.

“I just want to be useful to somebody.  To be worthwhile.”

“And you’re not?  Worthwhile?” Cat asked.

“I want to be, but I haven’t done anything to prove I am.  Not yet.  It’s like you said, Ms. Grant.  You have to earn the right to be considered worthwhile, the right to have a voice.  No one will listen to you if you have nothing to say, and even if you do, no-one is going to listen until you’ve proven you’re worth listening to.”

Cat leaned back in her chair, and Kara could see the wheels turning as Cat looked at her.

“I think you should know I expect complete and utter devotion to this job.  Are you willing to sacrifice everything in your life to be my assistant?”

“No,” Kara said, and she almost laughed at the look of shock on Cat’s face.  “No, I’m not.  If you give me the job, I’ll be available to you twenty-four seven.  I’ll be committed to you, to CatCo, to the job.  I’ll make your life easier in every way I can, and I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had.  But asking me to give up everything outside of the job would be doing a disservice to both of us.  If I give up everything outside of the job, I’m giving up everything unique I can bring to the table.  You’re thinking of an assistant as someone to do things you don’t want to do, or don’t have time to do, and I can be that for you, but wouldn’t it be better if I could also be someone who can do things you can’t do for yourself?  Someone who has contacts and reach that complement and extend your own, instead of just someone who’s competent at wielding your contacts and reach?  Giving up my life outside of CatCo would mean giving that up.  It would make me a worse assistant, not a better one.”

Cat just stared at her for a few moments with what Kara always thought of as Cat’s ‘thinking face.’

“And what kind of reach do you think you’d have that I don’t?”

Kara turned, and reached into her bag, carefully pulling out an engraved invitation.  It had taken a lot of work over that last week to get, and she was pretty sure she owed Diana her first born daughter, but last time not being able to get an invitation to Diana’s annual Peace Gala had nearly gotten her fired.  The only thing that saved her hide was the fact that in the ten years the event had been running, the only two reporters to ever set foot inside were Clark Kent, and Lois Lane.  It was well known that the only reason they were invited was that Clark was a close friend of Diana.

The first time she’d lived through this, she’d been so determined to make it on her own she’d never even considered calling in a favor from her baby cousin.  This time, she’d hadn’t even hesitated.  One of the first changes Kara was going to make was to make sure Cat knew Kara was extraordinary *before* Supergirl appeared on the scene.

She slid the invitation across the desk to Cat.  The woman picked it up and opened it.  If Kara hadn’t known her so well, she would have completely missed the moment of shock on the woman’s face before she closed the invitation and laid it back on the desk.

“Well,” she said, “I will admit that this isn’t a terrible start.”

Kara just smiled at her as she asked, “Should I head down to HR for the new hire paperwork, or should I see if my sister wants to go?”

Cat laid her hand on the invitation, and practically growled. “You certainly have more backbone than most of the candidates that come through the door.  I don’t hate that.  Yet.  But don’t get too cocky.  The standard contract has an at-will clause for the first hundred and eighty days.”

“I can live with that.”

***

“You mean to tell me that four of my most experienced agents got made by a little girl?” J’onn asked.

Wentworth winced and took half a step back.  “Sir,” she said, “she didn’t just make us, she knew everything about us.  She knew our names.  Our real names, not our cover identities.  She knew where I was born, where I want to college.  Hell, she even knew my breakfast order.  And she did an uncanny impression of you.”

“An impression of me?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips.

“Yes sir.  She actually tried to get me to bet her on whether you’d call her a little girl or a pretty blonde when you asked if four of your most experienced agents got made.  I think I might actually owe her fifty dollars.”

J’onn sighed and looked over at Vasquez.  “Please tell me Agent Danvers is still in the training room.”

Vasquez nodded.  “She’s busy wiping the floor with Nguyen right now.”

He nodded.  “Well, at least that’s one bullet I won’t have to dodge today,” he said as he turned back to Wentworth.  “Any idea how she made you?”

Wentworth shook her head.  “No sir.  She just said to tell you, and I’m quoting here, ‘Lady Kara, Chatelaine of the House of El, Daughter of Zor-El and Alura In-Ze and the last daughter of Krypton says to back off.’”  She held up a heavy parchment envelope.  “She did give me this, and told me to give it to you.  I had security irradiate it, and run every scan we have.  It appears to be plain old earth stationary, with the card inside printed within the last thirty-six hours.  Once you open it, we could probably do a high-rez scan and get the serial number of the printer if it was printed on a commercial inkjet.”

J’onn took the envelope and tore it open.  Inside was what looked like a single fold piece of card stock.  He pulled it out, and nearly dropped it in shock.  On the front of a card was a green circle, surrounded by a thick black border, and crossed with two red stripes.  Under it, in perfectly formed Green Martian, was his name.  J’onn J’onzz.

“I can have it scanned and run through the Kryptonian translation matrix, if you’d like,“ Wentworth said.

“It wouldn’t do any good,” he said.  “It’s not written in Kryptonian.  It’s written in Martian.”

“Why would she send a message in Martian?” Wentworth asked.

“Because it appears our pretty blonde is more well informed than I thought.  It’s a reference to a mission I went on about a year after she landed.”  He opened the card.  The message inside was in English.  It was simple.  ‘My roof.  Tomorrow night.  21:00 hours local.  Come alone.’

***

Kara stood near the edge of the building, trying not to roll her eyes at the sight of the sniper three rooftops over.  She hadn’t really expected J’onn to come alone, but she had hoped.  It would have made things easier in the long run, but it didn’t really matter.  Not much.

She tilted her head slightly, opening up her hearing a bit more, nodding as she confirmed that she’d caught the sound of J’onn on the stairwell.  He was good, she’d give him that, but there had always been something unique about the cadence of his footfalls.  It had taken almost a year of working with him before she was even consciously aware of it, but she’d recognize it anywhere.

He moved quickly, coming up the stairs with a purpose.  Six flights at that pace would have had even the healthiest human a little winded, but of course J’onn wasn’t human, even if he wore a human face.  She didn’t turn when the door opened.  She let him approach, slowly and cautiously.  She could feel the buzz of the Kryptonite bullets in his weapon.

“Did you come here to kill me, Hank?” she asked.

“No,” he said.  “But your little stunt-“

“My little stunt was just that.  A stunt.  A way to get your attention without showing up on your front door.”

“If you know where the door is, why didn’t you?”

She turned around to face him.  “Because if I turned up, the base would have gone to full alert, and Alex would have come running out of that training room you’ve got her in ready for a fight.  There’s no way you’ve have been able to keep her from finding out I know about the DEO.  Know that she works there.  I’d rather that didn’t happen.”

“How do you know about the DEO, Ms Danvers?”

“The same way I know about what happened in Peru.  Not what you put in your report.  Not what everyone else believes.  I know about the special bullets, and the knife.  I know how a knife ended up in Jeremiah Danvers’ gut.  I know what happened between Jeremiah and J’onn J’onzz, and what happened between Hank Henshaw and J’onn J’onzz.  I really wish you’d come alone.  It would have made talking about this so much easier.”

She watched as J’onn lifted his hand off his side arm and raised it in the air, giving a signal.  She turned and watched as the sniper picked up the rifle and disappeared off the roof.

“We can talk freely now,” he said.

Kara sighed and shook her head.  “Not as freely as I’d like,” she said.  “The city is crawling with Fort Rozz escapees.  But yes, J’onn, this should do.”

“How did you know?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you that, some day.  I promise.  But you’ll have to give me about a year.  For now, though, unless you want all your surveillance teams killed in awful ways, try buying some unscented soap for the soap dispensers in the base’s bathrooms.  The brand you’re currently using is manufactured for use by the military, so when I smelled it and saw the person wearing it didn’t have a regulation haircut…”

“That’s remarkably observant of you,” J’onn said, and he had the decency to look impressed, which made Kara feel a bit bad for what was only half the truth.  She had noticed the soap, but she’d also recognized the agents because she’d worked with them for years. 

She shrugged.  “I was taught by one of the best, and I’ll tell you who when I tell you how I know about Peru.  For now though, I need you to back off on the surveillance.  No bugs, no teams following me.  If you must, you can go ahead and embed someone at Catco to keep an eye on me.  They won’t see much, other than a bit of heat vision to make sure the boss gets a hot latte and the occasional bit of super hearing.”

“This is all about you being upset about us following you?”

She shook her head.  “No.  This is about me needing to be able to move and prepare without Sam Lane and people like him knowing my every move.”

“Prepare?  Prepare for what?”

“Come on, J’onn.  You have to know by now that the Fort Rozz prisoners are moving towards end game.  It’s slow going.  My source says another twelve to eighteen months before they’re ready to execute, but it’s obvious something is coming. When the time comes, you’re going to need my help.”

“Ms. Danvers, I assure you-“

“There were thirty Kryptonians in Fort Rozz when it landed.  Thirty.  You can easily go toe-to-toe with me or my cousin, you *might* even be able to take both of us if you don’t mind killing us in the process.  But even using your powers, you and the DEO wouldn’t stand a chance against thirty of my people in open warfare.”

“We’d last longer than you think.”

“What?  Because of the kryptonite?  You’ll get one engagement before they neutralize that advantage.  And even if you kill them, what about the Coluan?  She’s more dangerous than the rest of the prisoners combined, and you will never see her coming.”

J’onn stared at her for a minute, and she could see him thinking.  “What do you want?” he asked.

“I want you to reclassify my case as threat level epsilon.  You can be my reporting officer, or if you’d rather, you can designate Susan Vasquez.  Or you could just designate Alex and have her file the reports, and let her think I don’t know.  Either one is acceptable.”

He gave her a small nod.  “That’s doable.”

“I also need a kryptonite emitter.  Something small.  Maybe the size of a quarter.  Something I can wear concealed, but is powerful enough to take away my powers.”

“What for?” he asked, and Kara could see the curiosity written on his face.

“I wanna take a kick boxing class, and not have to worry about killing someone.”

“Kickboxing?  Really?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.  “But since there isn’t a Klurkor studio in National City, I’m probably going to end up settling for Jeet Kune Do, Krav Maga and Bojuka classes.  Kickboxing just sounds more like something a twenty-four-year-old assistant should be taking.”

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Yes.  Which is why I need one more thing.”

“You want your pod.”

Kara rolled her eyes in a near perfect imitation of Cat Grant.  “Oh, yeah.  Because nothing says ‘I’m not an alien’ like having a space ship in your parking space.”  She shook her head.  “No.  Leave the pod where it is, and by Rao’s Light, get my sister to get it working again.  It might come in handy someday.  I just need something out of the pod.”

“Okay.”

“There’s a hidden compartment behind the seat.  It contains a small case emblazoned with my house Coat of Arms.  I want that.”

“What’s in the case?”

“A Kryptonian lego set, similar to the one my cousin has up north.”

Realization dawned on J’onn’s face.  “Ah.  And where are you planning to put your lego set?”

“International waters, if that helps,” she said.

He shrugged.  “I’ll do my best to keep it off the radar as long as possible, but try to pick a spot that’s out of the shipping lanes.”

Kara nodded.  “I will.  I’ll even give you the GPS coordinates once it’s up and running. I’m probably going to ask you for a few other things over the next few months.  Small things.  A piece of equipment here, a bit of information there.  Nothing that would compromise the DEO, or your promise to Jeremiah, but there are bigger forces at play than just the Fort Rozz escapees and I need to lay some ground work.”

“What exactly are you planning?”

“It’s better you don’t know ahead of time, because when the time comes, I need your reaction to be real.  I need you to do exactly what you would do if we’d never had this conversation.”

He shook his head, “I do not like the sound of that.”

“Well, if it will make you feel any better, I can give you the name of an alien criminal, and his current location.”

“Now that, I am definitely interested in.”

“Carl Draper.  He’s a detective with National City PD.  He was a guard on Fort Rozz.  He escaped in a small prisoner transport shuttle during the break out.  The shuttle’s stashed under a cabin 80 miles north of the city.  He’s been hunting Fort Rozz escapees down, taking them to the shuttle and executing them.”

J’onn shook his head.  “That does not sound like someone we want roaming the streets.”

“No, it does not.  But I’d suggest taking him down fast and hard.  He’s got a suit of power armor that would let him go toe-to-toe with a Kryptonian.  If he gets to the suit before you take him down, you’ll have one hell of a fight on your hands.”

“We’ll get it done.”

“Good.  There were a lot of nasty people in Fort Rozz, but there were also some good people who were just in really crappy situations.  People who are no threat to anyone.  This guy does not distinguish.  He just kills, and he’s doing it in my mother’s name.”

“Now, there’s one more thing,” Kara said.  “I need to talk to you about a man named Maxwell Lord.”

[supernatural-schism]

Episode 3: Thêatre Des Vampires

Click here for content warnings

Four of hearts, five of diamonds, seven of hearts, jack of spades, two of hearts.  They were cards that had seen a lot of gritty, sweaty hands, a lot of beer spills and peanut salt.  The red  of the hearts and diamonds had faded to a dried-blood brown, barely distinguishable from the black.  Dean stared at the battered, yellowed cards on Bobby’s coffee table like his life depended on it, resting his elbows on his knees.  He didn’t need to look at his own cards again.  Four of spades and two of clubs.  Two pair.  Not a bad hand.

Staring placidly at absolutely nothing, haloed by afternoon light slanting through the window behind him, Sam sat on threadbare the couch on the other side of the table.  Half of his substantial bounty of plastic chips was in the pot.  Whatever Sam had, or was pretending to have, it was a little more than not bad.  Nearly sweating, Dean flicked his gaze between the cards and Sam’s face, searching for a tick, a tell.  Anything to let him know if Sam was bluffing, or if he really did have a flush or a straight.

Mostly, Sam looked bored.

“What in blazes are you doing?”

Dean nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of Bobby’s voice.  He looked up from the game.

“Texas hold ‘em, what’s it look like?”

Bobby approached the game, staring at the cards in disbelief.  “Well, I’ll be.  How’d you rope captain coma into that?  I can’t even get him to fill his damn pits in.”

Dean grunted, turning back to the cards on the table.  “Two good hours of mind-numbing debate.  Told him I’ll help him dig if he wins.”

“It took two hours for him to agree to that?”

Sam blinked, and Dean scoffed.  “The guy can connect point A to point B without trouble, but once C and D and E get involved, he goes back to digging his pits.”  Dean’s fingers drummed against his arm.  “What took two hours was convincing him that if he stopped digging now, he might be able to dig faster later.”

Bobby nodded, watching the game.  After a few moments of silence, he asked, “So how are you losing?”

Dean slammed his hand down on the table.  “Have you seen this asshole?  He’s got the poker face of a brick wall!”

“Uh huh.  And what’s the bet if you win?”  Bobby’s eyebrows rose as he looked at Dean’s pile of chips.  “Not that there’s much danger of that.”

“Shut up.  If I win, he... plays another game.”

Bobby nodded.  “ ... So you can lose that one instead?”

Dean snarled and tossed three of his chips into the pot.  “Fine!  Call!  I fucking call your raise!”

Sam was still staring at the far wall.  Dean waved his hands.

“Move!  Go!  Your turn!  Show your damn hand!”

Sam looked at Dean, then at the pot.  “Raise,” he said tonelessly, tossing five more scratched-up chips into the pot.

“Damn it!”  Dean thumped his fist onto the table again.  “No!  I’m not busting out over your goddamn flush!”  Dean shoved his cards forward.  “Fold!”

Sam stared at Dean’s hand for a moment, then scooped the heaping pile of chips in the pot, dragging it towards him.  Dean drummed his fingers tensely against the table.

“Well?” he snapped.  “What’d you have?”

Sam lifted his eyes slowly, looking half-asleep.  “I don’t have to tell.”

Dean snarled in exasperation and rubbed his hand roughly over his face.

“Well, god bless, I see Sam’s knowledge of poker rules remains intact,” Bobby mused.  He squinted as Dean gathered up the cards.  “Don’t deal again.  We need to talk.”

“We definitely don’t need to talk,” Dean grunted, expertly splitting and shuffling the worn deck.

“Dean.”

“Bobby.”  Dean choked out a weary laugh.  “I spent two hours convincing him to do stop digging holes and play poker.  Let me have this?”

“You need to get out of the house, Dean.  Ain’t good for you to stay here.”

Dean’s shuffling slowed, his eyes sliding out of focus.  “ ... Nowhere else for me to be.”

“Sure there is.”  Bobby gave Dean a firm clap on the shoulder that made him sway.  “Rufus has a job in Chicago.  Lots of missing people.”

Dean grunted.  “Isn’t that just Chicago being Chicago?”

“Rufus thinks it’s vamps.  And you’re going with him.  I’ve already got one vegetable in the house, I don’t need two.”

Dean’s face hardened.  He twisted his shoulder away from Bobby’s hand.  “Even if I was going to start hunting again, which I’m not, the last thing I’d want to hunt is -- ”  Dean turned back to the deck and started shuffling, agitated and quick.  “ ... Not vamps, Bobby.  I’m not messing with vamps again.”

“Like hell.  You go willingly, or I’ll have Rufus tranq you and throw you in the back of his car.”

“Bobby -- ”  Dean rubbed a hand over his face, gritting his teeth.  “Please.  I promised Sam I’d stop hunting.”

Bobby glanced at Sam, who was giving the wood grain of the floor a deeply troubled look.  “Yeah... I got a suspicion that he don’t care.”

“No, I mean... before.  Before the swan dive.”  Dean limply dealt another round.  The old cards slid across Bobby’s scuffed coffee table.  “Before Sam said yes to Lucifer, I promised I’d give up the life.  It was his dying wish, Bobby, I can’t.”

Bobby watched as Dean picked up his hand.  Sam stared at his own cards blankly for a moment before following suit.  Bobby sighed.

“Well... at least you’re admitting he’s gone.”

Dean winced.  Without looking, he tossed his ante into the pot, and Sam did the same.  He yelped when Bobby smacked the back of his head.

“Then don’t be so damn dense, boy!” Bobby snapped.  “Why exactly do you think Sam wanted you giving up hunting?  It was to make you happy!”  Bobby growled and shoved his hands in his pockets.  “God knows, you’ve damn near gotta be forced!”

Dean rubbed the back of his head, glaring at Bobby.  “Ow.”

Bobby shoved one gruff finger in Dean’s face.  “You listen here, kid: I’ve known Sam near as long as you, and I know that this right here -- ”  Bobby gestured at the poker game.  “ -- is not what he wanted for you.  Sam wanted you to have a life, a family and a god damn normal job, so you’d move on from his death.  And you’re sitting here playing poker with his corpse.”

Dean stared at Bobby.  His gaze dropped down to the stained cards in his hand, the chips in the pot, and finally shifted up to Sam’s vacant eyes.  Dean blinked as if seeing him for the first time.

Bobby gave Dean another clap on the shoulder.  “Pack up this evening, take whatever supplies you need.  Rufus is swinging by in the morning, and you’re leaving with him.”

----

Rufus’s car rolled up Bobby’s dusty driveway at the wee hour of eleven forty-three in the morning.  It grumbled across the gravel, grumbled to a halt, and then Rufus grumbled his way out of the car and grumbled up to the porch where Dean and Bobby were waiting.  Bobby had a whiskey bottle dangling from his hand, but hadn’t touched it all morning.  Dean was favoring coffee.

“This thing goes deep, Bobby!” Rufus declared by way of greeting, stomping up the creaky porch stairs.  He snatched the whiskey bottle out of Bobby’s hand, unscrewing the cap.  “Chicago’s an ant nest; the more I dig, the more I find, and the nastier it gets!”

Bobby gestured at the whiskey bottle as Rufus took a long, deep draw on it.  “You’re welcome.”

Rufus lowered the bottle and gave it back to Bobby, letting out a relieved sigh.  “So,” he began as if speaking to them for the first time, “I hear you’re tagging along, Dean?”

Dean grunted and took a sip of coffee.  “Yeah, seems that way.”

“Great.  Good.  This case is gonna need all the muscle it can get.”  He gave Dean a dismissive wave.  “Even if that muscle is coming from your dumb ass.”

Dean snorted into his coffee.  “Great to see you too.”

----

Rufus was insistent on bringing his truck.  He wanted to know if they were driving together, and if he’d “have to put up with Dean’s face for the entire ride.”  The company was tempting, even if the company was slightly bonkers, but Dean knew that if he was going to get back into hunting, he had to do it right.

He felt a little guilty about the thrill that went through him seeing Baby’s shiny trunk all loaded up with hunting supplies again.  He couldn’t keep a smile off his face when he climbed in the driver’s seat and twisted the key in, pulling a hungry growl from her engine.

“Going hunting again, girl,” he murmured, giving her a little more gas than necessary as he pulled out of Bobby’s lot ahead of Rufus.

----

It was raining outside the Sleeping Beauty café, water pouring off the red awning in sheets.  It was a cold rain, a relentless rain, promising the kind of chill that soaked into the bones and would not be banished.  The sun had risen a scant hour ago, but not a trace of it was visible through the thick, dark clouds, leaving the Chicago streets dark and dreary.

Even though a dull neon sign in the Sleeping Beauty café’s window proclaimed “OPEN,” two people huddled just under the awning, making no move to go inside and get warm.

“If Jack doesn’t bring someone out out in the next twenty minutes, I’m bailing,” the taller one snapped.  Her dark, sodden hair hung in wet ropes around her pale face.  “I’m a vampire, not a fish.”

Her soggy companion hissed, looking over his shoulder nervously.  “Keep your voice down!”

“Why?  No one’s gonna believe it.”  The taller vampire grinned.  “Or if someone does, it’ll be because they want me to take them out back and give ‘em a nip.  Hm?”

“You’re gonna get us killed.  You don’t know if any of these people are hunters.”

The vampire grumbled, but fell silent.  The wind roared, rain poured down, and the early morning commuters whooshed by on the wet roads, windshield wipers pumping, sending up cold mist behind them.

“Twenty minutes,” the taller vampire muttered, sullenly watching rain water drip from her hair.  “Jack has twenty more minutes to seduce the scarf off of some human and bring them out.  Then I’m bailing.”

“We’ll wait as long as we have to,” the other vampire growled.  Unlike his partner, he had a hood pulled up to keep off the worst of the rain that was blown under the awning by the wind.  “No one’s gonna want to come out in this weather, it may take Jack some time.”

“I don’t want to be out in this weather.”  The taller vampire shifted her feet on the wet cement.  “I’d rather be somewhere nice and dry with a tasty, warm body to -- ”

“Shut up.”

The vampire fell silent, turning her pale face towards the street.  Two men were running down the sidewalk through the pounding rain, and as the vampire watched, they came to a stop under the awning outside the cafe.   The older one wiped rain off his forehead and mustache, giving the sign on the door a suspicious look.  

“Sleepin’ Beauty?” he read out loud.  “This place got coffee at least?”

“It’d better,” the younger one grunted, pulling his sodden leather jacket tighter around himself.  He glanced at the two vampires for a moment, his breath short from running.  His hair was plastered against his head with water, droplets running down his face.  The taller vampire grinned at him brightly.

“It’s got coffee,” she assured him.

The man gave her a crooked smile.  “Awesome.  Thanks.”

“I don’t care if it’s called Pretty Pony Teatime,” the older man grunted, wrenching the door open.  “Let’s get the fuck inside.”

After a moment, the younger man followed, and the door swung shut behind them with a friendly chime.

The vampire nudged her partner, watching the men find a seat through the glass of the window.  “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Her partner wasn’t looking, but he was smiling.  “Mm-hm.  I think the Boss is gonna love him.”

----

At least it was warm inside the Sleeping Beauty café, Dean thought.  Even if the decor looked a little...

“What would you call this?” Dean grunted, gesturing with his cup of coffee at the low lighting and the red upholstery.  “Porno-chic?”

“I’d call it warm and dry,” Rufus replied.  His coffee was already half-gone.

Dean glared at their surroundings, hunkering over his mug.  Everything was either red, black, or pink.  Dean was no interior designer, but even he could tell that this is what the word “clashing” had been created for.

Rufus was hands-down the oldest person there, and Dean thought he might be the second oldest.  It was early, and there weren’t many patrons seated at the jet black plastic tables, but none of them looked old enough to drink.  Seated at the table closest to Dean were a young couple, a girl and an older-looking boy, wearing equal amounts of eyeliner.  The girl was dressed in few pounds of black lace, right down to a lace choker with a cross dangling from it that she tugged on shyly.  The young man, if anything, had even crazier fashion.  Dean didn’t know what you’d call that thing with all the ruffles, but it looked a few generations out of its time.  Or maybe centuries.  Dean caught the phrase “people just don’t understand me” before he tuned out with a scoff.

“Come on, no one’s voice is naturally that low and gravely,” he grumbled.

“We here to hunt or not?”

“Okay, fine.  Catch me up.”

Rufus wiped coffee out of his mustache, keeping his voice low.  “Bout a week ago, Gravel tossed me a Chicago case that looked fishy to them.  I got to digging, and of course there’s tons of unsolved murders and missing persons in Chicago, but a mighty suspicious number of them looked like they could be vamp-related.”

“Big nest?”

“Oh yeah.  Real big.  Biggest I’ve ever seen.”  Rufus took a sip of coffee.  “Big enough that we’re gonna have to be clever.  Can’t just barge in guns a-blazin’ or our asses are gonna be vamp chow.”

“Rats,” Dean grunted humorlessly.  “That’s my favorite strategy.”

“I’m bettin’ it’s got a leader like any other nest,” Rufus continued.  “The biggest, baddest vamp around.  With a nest this big, that’s gotta be one scary motherfucker.  But I’m thinking if we take the big one out, s’gonna be chaos.  All the second biggest, baddest vamps fighting for control.”

“Could fracture the nest,” Dean picked up.  “We take ‘em out one by one after that.”  He leaned back in his chair, flinging one arm over the velvety back of the chair, staring thoughtfully into his coffee.  One big bad vamp.  Newly turned vampires were no threat to an armed, skilled hunter -- barely stronger than a human, overwhelmed and disoriented by their recent transition -- but the older ones were forces to be reckoned with.  Dean sloshed his coffee around in his cup.  If the nest was as big as Rufus seemed to think, they could be dealing with a seriously old, seriously scary vampire.

A breathy little gasp from the couple behind them made Dean groan in exasperation.

“For fuck’s sake,” he said loudly.  “She’s probably, like, fourteen.  Knock it off, man.”

The couple at the table stopped talking, but the girl gasped again, this time in offense.  Dean leaned over the back of his faux-velvet chair to glare at them.

“Well?  You’re sure not eighteen, are you?”

“I’ll be eighteen in October!” the girl retorted hotly, her cheeks flushing.

Dean rolled his eyes and shifted back in his chair.  “Awesome.”

The young man swept out of his chair, extending a pale hand to his date.  “We don’t need to stay here and be judged.  Come, let’s find some place more... secluded.”

“But... the rain!”

“I will give you my jacket.  And you will look lovely even with wet hair.”

“Oh... your hand is so cold... ”

“Yes... like my heart.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes.  “Jesus fuck... ”

The couple left the café, the girl shooting Dean one more glare over her shoulder.  A blast of cold, wet air gusted through the café as they left, before the door swung shut behind them.

“Drink up,” Rufus grunted, lifting his own cup of coffee to his lips.  “Soon as the rain lets up, we’re gonna find us a motel and catch you up on the details of this case.”

----

There wasn’t much to be said for the decor of the motel they found, except that at least it wasn’t the Sleeping Beauty café.

On the coffee table of their room, Dean sorted through Rufus’s collection of newspaper clippings and printed articles while the other man showered.  Rufus had scribbled over the faded old pages in red pen, underlining sentences and circling words, scratching barely-legible notes in the margins.  There was a thick packet of articles stretching back decades that all involved some mangling of the neck.  Some even involved decapitations.  In a sticky note on top, Rufus had written “head chopping: hides neck bites.”

Dean put the stack of articles aside, picking up the next packet.  On top was a photo from a security camera, showing a dark parking lot and a clear view of a young man walking across it.  Stapled to the photo was an article from 1988 with pictures of the same man, claimed to be missing.  Dean squinted at the timestamp on the security camera photo.  The year was 2009.  If anything, the man looked younger.

Rufus’s research contained a handful of other clear examples of a missing person showing up years later, completely un-aged.  Dean pursed his eyebrows.  He set the photos and articles aside, picking up a different stack of paper: Rufus’s master list of missing Chicago denizens with potential vampire connections.  Dean sorted through the pictures, his frown deepening the more he looked.

The bathroom door opened and Rufus stepped out, damp but clothed.

“One of us has an admirer,” he announced.  “S’probably me.”

Dean tossed the stack of papers down.  “Got another pattern.  Nearly everyone that you’ve got on your list here is between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five.”

“You don’t say?”

“Not just that.”  Dean gestured at the stack of papers.  “There ain’t a girl on this list that isn’t eye-catching.  And the guys... I don’t even swing that way and I can tell they’re lookers.”

Rufus pursed his eyebrows.  “You’re sayin’ the vamps are targeting young hot people?”

“Not just targeting.  Turning.”  Dean leaned back in his chair.  “They’re gathering a vampire army of... young hot people.”

Rufus sniffed.  “Well, Dean, you know what this means... ”

“Not really.”

Rufus pressed a hand to his chest.  “This means I ain’t safe.”

Dean chuckled, skimming an article.  “Yeah, you’re a real... ”  Dean trailed off as something caught his eye.  “Hang on... ”

The article was about a missing girl, age nineteen.  Right there on the page were the words “last seen at the Sleeping Beauty café.”

Dean pointed.  “That’s where we got coffee this morning.”  He leafed through the stack of missing persons, noticing a prevalence of eyeliner and black clothing that he hadn’t pieced together before.  A sudden image of the couple in the café swam into his mind, and Dean rubbed a hand over his face and groaned.  “Shit... Rufus, I think that weird-ass café is vamp hunting grounds.  And I think we let one get away.”

Rufus’s look darkened.  “You think that boy was a vamp?”

“Yeah.”

“ ... Shit.”  Rufus walked across the room and flopped down in an armchair.  After a moment he grunted, “Well, can’t dwell on it.  We’ve got a big-ass vamp nest to take down, and now we know where they like to hunt.”

“Well, it’s something, at least.”

“More than that.  I think we’ve got our in.”

“Yeah?  How d’you figure?”

“Our admirer.”  Rufus gestured at the bathroom window.  “Someone chick’s been standing on the opposite corner, staring into our window.  Looks like the girl outside that weird-ass café, the one who got all friendly with you.  And she’s not too keen on stepping out of the shade, if you get my drift.”

Dean frowned.  “I’m being stalked by a vamp?”

“Nah, like I said, she’s probably stalking me.”

“Rufus -- come on, man.”  Dean tossed the article down on the pile.  “I’m in the age bracket, they clearly want me for their hot person army.  I’m missing the part where any of this is good news.”

Rufus chuckled.  “Dean, see, I think I’ve got a plan to take out our big boss vamp.  And you’re gonna hate it.”

----

Several blocks from the Sleeping Beauty café, in a narrow alley swathed in shade and rain, a teenage girl wearing a black lace choker was fixing her eyeliner in a handheld mirror.  Between the dumpsters, leaning against the wet brick wall and groaning faintly, slumped an older boy dressed in something that looked a few generations out of its time.   His head was fallen to the side, raindrops washing blood from the ragged bite in his neck.

The girl snapped her mirror shut at the sound of footsteps.  Someone was walking down the alley, his hoodie pulled up to keep off the rain and the pale light of dawn.

“You took your bloody time with him, Jack,” the approaching man called.  “The sun’s up.  Itches like crazy.”

Jack brushed her wet hair out of her face, giving the unconscious young man a glance.  “He felt the need to spin me some poetry, take me on a little tour of the city.  It all worked out in the end.”

When he got close enough to inspect the boy, the vampire grunted.  “You actually turn him this time, or just drain him?”

“Turned.  I know my job.”  Jack snapped her mirror open again, re-analyzing her makeup.  “Not that I’m convinced he’s worth it.  Can’t say much for his personality.  But Boris does love a pretty face.”

“Speaking of pretty faces... ”  The other vampire cocked his head in the general direction of the Sleeping Beauty.  “Did you see pretty boy in there?  Leather jacket, bedroom eyes?”

“I saw.”  Jack sighed into her mirror.  “We won’t be seducing that one, though.  He’s not into the whole ‘vampire’ allure.  Tell Oscar to do it.”

“I don’t care how we acquire him.  Boris is gonna want that one.”

Dean heaved, gripping the sides of the motel toilet, staring down into the clear water and willing his stomach to retain its contents.  The sound of his own ragged breathing filled the small room.

He could do this.  Rufus may have come up with the single least appealing plan Dean had ever run with, but by god, he could do this.  He just had to...

Dean lifted his gaze, staring out into the main room of the motel where he knew a plastic gallon jug was waiting for him, full of dark milky red --

Dean turned back to the toilet urgently, hyperventilating.  

... He just had to not throw up.

The motel door clicked as it opened.  Dean licked his dry lips and called out weakly, “Hey, Rufus.”

“Bitch, I know you ain’t throwing that up.  Just because we’re in Chicago don’t mean that food-safe corpses grow on trees.”

“Nah.”  Dean laid his arm across the toilet seat and rested his forehead against it, closing his eyes.  “Haven’t started drinking yet.  Just picked up the jug and... got a whiff.”

Thick, metallic, nauseating.  All the same, he could have bit his tongue and toughed his way through that.  What made Dean run for the bathroom was the memory of Baby’s trunk full of dark red gallon jugs just like that, and the guilty greed in Sam’s eyes when he looked at them.

“ ... You mind not watching this?”

Dean forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to slow his breathing.  He could do this.  He heard Rufus entering the bathroom and forced himself to look up, nearly doubling up again at the sight of another gallon jug in Rufus’s hand.

Rufus caught his expression and lifted the jug, shaking it.  “Open wide.”

“Fuck off,” Dean rasped, pulling himself away from the toilet and standing up.  Rufus held out the jug, and Dean took it gingerly.  The handle was sticky.

“We’re lucky to even have this much,” Rufus reminded him.  “Everyone else in the morgue already had formaldehyde.  Don’t wanna be chugging that.”

“Yeah,” Dean added, eyes locked on the jug of blood.  He pulled the cap off, cringing as he stared down into the thick red liquid inside.  “D-do we even know this will work?”

“Nope.”  Rufus gave Dean a firm clap on the shoulder before turning and walking out of the bathroom.  “But it’s what we got.  Imma find another morgue to hit up, just in case you don’t keep that down.”

“Yeah.”  Dean cringed, still not bringing the jug to his lips.

Rufus peered back into the bathroom.  “You better keep it down, though.”

“I know.”

“More y’drink, more likely this pipe dream is gonna work.”

“It had better fucking work,” Dean breathed, and with that, he raised the jug to his lips and took a deep, sickening gulp.  He gagged violently but managed to swallow, cringing and wiping the back of his hands over his lips.  It left a red smear.  He was pretty sure the taste was permanently branded onto his tastebuds, sour and metallic and heavy.

Rufus gave him an approving nod.  “Atta boy.”

“Tastes like chicken,” Dean grunted weakly.  The blood felt weird in his stomach.  Despite his gulp, the bottle still looked distressingly full.

“Hey.”  Rufus pointed a stern finger at Dean.  “You pace yourself, y’hear.”

“Yeah.  Gotcha.”

“Don’t you throw that up.”

Dean rolled his head, raising his eyebrows as he stared down into the bottle.  “Yeah, I’ll do my best.”

Rufus walked away, his footsteps thumping on the carpeted floor.  The door clicked shut as he left, and Dean squeezed his eyes shut and downed another thick gulp of dead man’s blood.

----

Nightfall saw Dean sitting next to a table bearing three empty gallon jugs, all staining brown as the blood on them dried.  A forth one dangled from his hand, just a few sticky sips left at the bottom.  Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this physically disgusting.  The blood filled his belly like a too-rich meal, making him queasy.  Dean didn’t know how, but he’d managed to keep down every gulp.

Rufus sat on the edge of one of the beds, sharpening a machete.  The only noise in the room was the slow scrape of whetstone over steel as the sky darkened outside.  Dean braced himself and downed the last gulp of blood, knocking it back like a shot.  The taste clung to his tongue regardless, harsher than whiskey.

Dean set the bottle down and wiped his mouth off.  “S’dark enough outside,” he declared, extending an open palm towards Rufus’s machete.  “Pass it over.”

Rufus made no move to hand him the blade.  “Nah, you can’t go in with a weapon.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re fang bait.”  Rufus scraped the whetstone across the blade again.  “Fang bait don’t bring weapons.”

Dean pulled his hand back, scowling.  “Have I mentioned that I hate this plan?”

“Yup.”

“Hate it.”  Dean stood up and jabbed a finger at Rufus.  “You better not lose sight of me.”

“You’d better get the big bad somewhere alone.”

“I’ll request a romantic little back alley,” Dean snapped dryly, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on.  “Complete with mating cats and the faint stench of piss.  That’ll get me right in the mood for blood loss.”

----

Mating cats it lacked, but the alley certainly smelled like piss.

Dean tugged his jacket tighter around himself as he walked further down the dark, dingy little street.  His boots splashed through greasy puddles in the uneven concrete, oily rainbows dancing on their surface.  There were no lamps in the alley, but a buzzing neon sign oozed a sickly glow over the cracked pavement.  Rather than illuminating the alley, it only served to accentuate the shadows.

Something rustled in a soggy dumpster, and Dean’s whole body went tense before a cat leaped out with a yowl and ran away.  Dean huffed with unease.  It was a struggle to not constantly scan his surroundings, to keep his body relaxed.  He had to look like easy prey.  He certainly felt that way.  With no weapons weighing him down, his belt was uncomfortably light on his hips.

Rufus was tailing him, he tried to remind himself as he kept walking.  Ready to jump in at the right moment.  The thought wasn’t nearly as comforting as a good bit of steel would have been.  Dean shuddered, trying to keep his eyes on his feet like some idiot civie who didn’t know how dumb it was to walk down an alley alone at night.

Even though his ears were straining to pick up any hint of sound, the firm hand that suddenly grabbed the back of Dean’s jacket caught him by surprise.  The stained brick wall seemed to fly up to meet his face as he was thrown against it.  A powerful hand twisted in his hair, yanking his head back, exposing his neck.

“No talking,” a crisp voice commanded.  “No need to make a mess of this.  Hold still, and it will barely hurt.  Or something.”

“Are you a vampire?” Dean spilled out in a rush, keeping his hands planted firmly against the filthy brick wall, fighting the urge to writhe against his assailant’s hold.

“Of course not.  Vampires aren’t real.”

Dean’s head was pulled back further, his neck aching.  “I-I’m looking for a vampire!”

There was silence for a moment.  Dean’s chest heaved, his scalp starting to sting from the rough grip on his hair.  

“ ... Go on.”

Dean swallowed, his throat bobbing.  “I -- I wanna find out what it’s like to get bit.  Hear it’s, y’know... ”  He winced against the sting of the hand in his hair.  “ ... titillating?”

“ ... Hm.”

The grip on Dean’s hair finally loosened and let go.  He rubbed the ache out of his neck and turned around.  The man facing him was tall, slim, and blond, wearing a nice suit and an impatient expression.

The man extended a hand.  “Oscar.”

Dean hesitated before taking his hand and shaking it awkwardly.  The vampire’s hand tightened around his, and before Dean could so much as shout he was yanked close, the vampire breathing into his neck.  Dean went tense with alarm when he heard the soft, wet noise of fangs sliding out.

“I don’t want any lewd moaning,” the vampire whispered against his neck.  “You hear me?”

“Wh-whoa, wait -- ”  Dean pressed a firm hand against the vampire’s shoulder, though he might as well have tried to shove off a ton of bricks.  “I-I don’t want just any vampire biting me!”

The vampire pulled back with an offended huff.  “I’m hardly any vampire, you uncultured whelp.  But very well.  Who, in your immaculate wisdom and taste, do you want biting you?”

Dean swallowed, his heart still thumping.  He tried to sound eager, wanting.  “ ... Someone powerful.  I only want the most powerful vampire in the city.  The big bad.”

Oscar the vampire sighed.  “Delightful.  That’s what the Boss’s ego needs, a groupie.”  He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.  “No talking while I’m on the phone, or I will rip your throat out.”

He dialed a number, and held the phone to his ear as it rang.  Dean blinked.  Vampire nests had a social order, sure, but they weren’t usually cell phone organized.  This was just plain surreal.

“Hello, Boris.  ... Boss.”  Oscar rolled his eyes.  “There’s a human who wants to see you.  Yes, he --  Yes.  In that way.  That is in fact what I am implying.  Yes.  ... Please stop talking.”  Oscar rubbed a hand over his face.  “Okay, Boris.  ... Boss.  At once.”  He hung up, and gave Dean a weary look.  “Good news.  He’s very eager to meet you.”

Dean forced himself to smile.  “Yahtzee.”

----

Through the darkening streets of Chicago, under harsh white street lamps and down putrid alleys, Dean followed the vampire.  Dean had his fingers crossed in his pockets that Rufus was keeping up with them.  He wanted to look over his shoulder and check, but if he blew Rufus’s cover, the whole plan was a bust.  

Dean was just about to ask how far they were going when Oscar stopped in front of a big office building.  Dean craned his head back to look up the steely-black length of it.  He caught the words “Lioncourt Luxury Hardwoods” before a creak drew his attention back down.  Oscar was pushing open the open the black glass doors, stepping inside.

“Come on, boy.  Don’t keep the Boss waiting.”

Dean hesitated, a prickle of unease going up his spine.  This wasn’t right.  Vampires didn’t bite their victims in crowded office buildings.  Oscar stopped when he realized Dean wasn’t following.

“Come.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.  Dean swallowed and stepped inside.

Oscar led him through a luxuriant lobby.  Everything was furnished with black marble, dark hardwoods, and shiny brass trim.  Dean froze when they approached the elevators, falling behind Oscar.  

“Um --  When I said, private, I was thinking, maybe -- a hotel room or a gas station bathroom or something -- ”

Oscar ignored him, pressing the elevator call button and checking his watch.  The elevator’s elaborate wooden doors opened with a ding, and when Oscar stepped inside, Dean had no choice but to follow.  The shutting doors felt like the jaws of a trap closing around him.

“Um.”  Dean shifted from foot to foot, his hands clenching and unclenching, upsettingly empty.  “About this.  Privacy thing.”

“The Boss likes to dine in his office.”  Oscar reached into his pocket and pulled out a little brass key.  “Around here, you do what the Boss wants.”  His cold eyes darted to Dean.  “Even if what he wants involves taking precious time out of your day to deliver some human with atrocious acting abilities to his office.”

Dean’s lungs seized.  “Wh -- what do you mean by -- ”

“Honey, stop.  Just stop.  I don’t want to know details.  Whatever your game is, I don’t have time to deal with it.”  Oscar slipped the key into the elevator’s panel.  “But if it’s about getting in his pants, I assure you, the song and dance is unnecessary.”

The key twisted, flashing in the light, and Oscar pressed the button for the top floor.  Dean’s heart nearly stopped.  Shit shit shit.  They’d fucked up.  Rufus wasn’t going to be able to follow him here.  This wasn’t a nest, this was a fortress, and he was in here without a weapon and without backup --

“You seem concerned,” Oscar commented softly, eyes on his phone as he texted.

Dean hoped his face wasn’t too pale as he forced a smile.  “C-course not.  Just, uh -- ”  He gestured vaguely at the lavish interior of the elevator, his mind racing.  “Didn’t expect something this nice.”

He was completely fucked.  There was no way he’d be allowed to leave this building.  Dean swallowed and tapped his foot nervously against the black carpeted floor, watching the numbers on the elevator light up as they passed from floor to floor.  He prayed that Oscar wasn’t listening to his racing heart.

----

All too soon, the elevator doors chimed and slid open.  Oscar extended a hand, and Dean stepped gingerly out into a lobby.  No machete.  How do you kill a vampire with no machete?  Oscar brushed past him, striding briskly away.  Dean tried to take even breaths he was led down a black-carpeted hall.  How the fuck do you kill a vampire with no goddamn weapons and moderate to severe blood loss -- ?

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when Oscar grabbed his shoulder, halting him in front of a pair of heavy, dark doors.

“This one.”  Oscar gave him a little shove towards the door.  “Go in.”  He crossed the hall, stopping in front of a much more modest door.  “This is my office,” he explained, rapping his knuckles against the door and speaking slowly as if afraid Dean wouldn’t be able to keep up otherwise.  “That one is the Boss’s.  Unfortunately, neither of these doors are soundproofed.  Make my life easier.  Don’t be a screamer.”

Dean couldn’t find words as Oscar opened the door to his own office.  

“Go in,” Oscar pressed impatiently before slamming his door shut.

Dean gulped, turning to face the huge wooden doors.  His hand was shaking slightly as he grabbed the shiny brass handle.  The door creaked as he pushed it open.

Dean poked his head inside.  “ ... Hello?  Mr. Boss vampire?”

The dark room was vast, lavish, and an entire wall was a floor-to-ceiling window, showing a sweeping view of the nighttime city.  But as far as Dean could tell, it was empty.

Dean slammed the door behind himself and stalked through the room, scouring the walls and furniture.  Black leather upholstery.  Dim ceiling lamps.  A huge, heavy desk with a big metal skull on it.  The whole place was like something out of a gothic porno, but absolutely nothing could be turned into a decapitating weapon.  Dean cursed, circling the room, craning his head back to search the walls.  He just needed something, anything that could potentially be used to chop a head off.  Come on.  Novelty swords.  Convenient metal sculpture.  A fucking letter opener --

The door creaked, and Dean’s spine went rigid.  He turned around slowly, trying to breathe.

A man was leaning against the doorframe, framed by the brighter light of the hallway.  He leered, so overtly and greedily that his eyes felt like hands.  Dean’s skin crawled.  Nothing about the man’s greasy, bushy black hair or stained wifebeater shirt or ragged leather jacket said “CEO” to him, but something told him this vampire was the Boss.

“Wow.”  The man grinned, needle-sharp teeth sliding out.  “You’re pretty.”

Dean took a step back as the vampire stepped into the room.  “You’re -- you’re the Boss, right?”

The vampire closed the door behind himself.  “And you must be my treat.  Tasty.”

Dean flinched as he heard the door lock with a click.  The man started walking towards him, and he forced himself not to back away like his legs were begging him to.

“S-so this is a nice joint you’ve got here,” Dean rambled as the vampire approached with a hungry grin.  “Kinda fancy shmancy for a vamp nest.  I mean, if that’s not rude.  Why don’t you.  Um.”  Dean swallowed and wavered back a step as the man walked right up to him.  “ ... Tell me all about it?”

Boris’s thick fingers grabbed Dean’s chin, silver rings digging into his jaw.  Dean struggled to breathe.

“The fancy shmancy skyscraper is a neat little mask,” Boris drawled, tilting Dean’s head from side to side and assessing the quality of his neck.  “We don’t hide in the dark.  We stand out in the open and look pretty, and the pretty people come right to us.  A modern Théâtre Des Vampires.”  Boris cocked his head.  “Do you read Anne Rice?”

“C-can’t say I have,” Dean wheezed.

“Mm.  Shame.  I suppose no one is perfect.”  Boris’s thick thumb rubbed against the flickering pulse on Dean’s neck.  “My pretty boys and girls bring me more pretty boys and girls.  So I get a nice constant stream of pretty boys and girls to keep the theater going and do... well, whatever else I want them to do, really.”

Dean swallowed, his throat bobbing against Boris’s hand.  “O-oh?”

Boris chuckled.  “We’re not some little nest, cutie pie, we’re big time.  I’m big time.”  He leaned towards Dean’s bare neck, fangs out.  “But I hear you like big time -- ”

“Whoa there!”  Dean squirmed and managed a shaky grin.  “Wh-what, no foreplay?”

“Oh, you want a kiss first?”  Boris slipped a hand under Dean’s jacket, wrapping it around his waist.  “Nah, you want something a little heavier, don’t you?”

Dean’s eyes widened and he flinched back.  “E-easy there -- ”

“I like to do ‘em up against the window.”  Boris cocked his head towards the glass wall, the city sprawling below.  “My toys say they like the view.”

“Nope!  No, uh, no need!”  Dean laughed nervously, reaching back for something to brace himself on and finding the solid wood of the desk.  “W-we can just -- uh -- dive in!  ... With the biting!  Just the biting.”  Dean swallowed, drumming his fingers anxiously against the desk and trying to scan the room again.  Come on, anything, anything --

Boris blew out an impatient breath.  “Closeted.  It figures.  Well, we’ll see if you change your mind after a little kiss... ”

The hand on Dean’s jaw tightened.  Dean cringed as his head was forced to the side.  No breath against his skin when Boris leaned in.  A wet tongue scraped over Dean’s neck and he flinched.

“You taste a little funny, pretty boy.  Haven’t been eating garlic, have you?”

Dean tensed in alarm.  Dead man’s blood.  He grabbed a handful of Boris’ thick black hair, trying to drag his face in.  

“B-bite me,” he panted, “bite me now, come on!”

Boris didn’t seem to need further urging.  Dean felt the pinpricks first, a dozen needle-sharp points against his skin, lingering there for just a second before the fangs punctured and Boris bit down hard.  Dean clenched his teeth on a hiss of pain.  The first ferocious tug of suction on the wound made his head spin, his knees nearly give out.  Boris’s mouth pulled the blood out of his body in deep, hungry swallows, gulping him down like a cheap beer.

Dean’s knuckles whitened against the rim of the desk, his heart jackhammering in his chest as the vampire slowly drained him.  There had to be something in this room.  Anything with a sharp edge, he’d take a paperclip at this point --

Boris tore his fangs out of Dean’s neck with a gag, reeling back.  He wiped a hand slowly across his bloody mouth.

“That’s no garlic there,” he panted, staggering slightly, watching the slight tremble in his hand.  His cold eyes rose to meet Dean’s.  “Not garlic at all.  The hell did you take?”

Boris looked even less steady on his feet than Dean felt.  Dean slipped out from between Boris and the desk, trying to put some space between himself and the vampire --

Boris reached out with startling speed, making a crude grab for Dean’s shirt.  Dean staggered back, an aching spike going through his head at the sudden movement.  The blood loss had left him disoriented, wobbly.  

Boris snarled, his bloody fangs bared.  “What the hell did you take?”

Dean’s fist cracked into Boris’s jaw, delivering as much power into the blow as he could.  He was still shaking the sting out of his hand when Boris returned the blow, hard enough to knock the wind out of him and send him staggering back.  Then there was a powerful hand grabbing his shoulder, turning him around and throwing him towards the empty air of the city --

Dean grunted as he was slammed against the glass of the window, face pressed against it, a several hundred foot drop stretching out before him.  Boris had him pinned in place, one hand twisted in his hair, the other grabbing his arm and wrenching it behind his back --

The joint twisted painfully and Dean cried out.

“Tell me what you took,” Boris snarled into his neck.  “And when I play with you, I won’t break you.”

“A big hearty dose of fuck you,” Dean shouted back.  

Gripping Dean’s hair tighter, Boris pressed his face hard against the glass.  Dean kept his eyes squeezed shut, trying not to look down, trying not to imagine that the window was about to crack and break under the freight-train force of Boris holding him in place --

... Wait.

“You’re lucky you’ve got a pretty face,” Boris growled.  His body pressed up behind Dean’s, pinning him harder against the window and drawing a strangled gasp from Dean.  “I’m gonna leave that intact.  The rest of you, though -- ”

“Wait -- ”  Dean swallowed hard.  “Wait, I’ll tell you what I took, okay?”

“Tell me.”

Dean’s breath steamed against the cold glass.  “I’m a dead man walking.  Got dead blood in my veins and everything.”

Boris’s grip loosened, his voice softened by confusion.  “What?  How?”

Dean spun and twisted his arm away from Boris’s grasp.  The desk was only a few feet away.  Dean ran for it, and his fingers found cold, cast metal.  As Boris recovered and approached with bared fangs, Dean dug his fingers into the eye sockets of the fake skull and hurled it towards the window.

The glass shattered, a thousand thick, razor shards sparkling in the city lights before they fell.  The steel frame held jagged chunks of glass, ringing the windy opening like teeth.  Boris wasn’t distracted for long, turning his cold eyes back towards Dean.  Dean leapt at him, toppling them over, grabbing a thick handful of Boris’s hair and slamming it down onto the glass as they fell --

The glass made a sound like slicing meat as it drove through Boris’s neck.  Dean sprawled back across the floor, panting hard, the room spinning.  Boris was motionless, face-down with his head hanging out the window, blood seeping onto the glass and splattered across the floor.  Dean rubbed a hand over his aching head, his heart still pounding.  

A low, heavy noise of rage from Boris nearly made Dean jump out of his skin.  The glass hadn’t cut all the way through.

“Fucking vampires,” Dean grunted under his breath, pulling his jacket off.  He wrapped it around his hands before approaching the broken window.  The wind was frigid and harsh in his face, stinging in his eyes.  Dean grabbed a thick chunk of razor sharp glass, yanking until it snapped off, sending a dust of glass into the wind.  “Just once I want to have a machete with me when I meet a fucking vampire.”

He knelt down, and raised the shard of glass above his head.  It took several hard stabs before Boris’s head finally tumbled away, falling out into the cold open air of Chicago without a sound.

Dean collapsed back onto the floor, tossing aside the bloody glass.  “Never leaving the house without a machete again.  Fucking vampires.”

----

The heavy wooden door creaked loudly as Dean nudged it open.  He peered outside, half expecting to see Oscar and a platoon of vampire guards waiting in the hall.

The hall was empty.  The door to Oscar’s office was ajar, and there was a neatly written note taped to it.  Dean slipped out through the door and approached the note.

----

My respected Boss,

I CANNOT WORK IN THESE CONDITIONS.

I have gone downstairs to find some place more PEACEFUL to work as I keep this company afloat.  Learn to keep yourself and your victims QUIET.  If this happens one more time, I will fill your office with ball gags.  Fill.  It.

Good day.

- Oscar, your immaculate secretary, without whom we would have gone bankrupt decades ago

Dean blinked at the note.  Secretary?  Cautiously, he eased Oscar’s door open.

Oscar’s small office was filled floor to ceiling with exotic potted plants.  Aside from that, it was sparse and clean, with little more than a filing cabinet and a few chairs.  Perched on a simple desk, surrounded by a veritable forest of ferns and orchids, was an open laptop.

Dean pulled back, glancing down the length of the hallway.  All was quiet.  He looked back at the laptop.  Big secret vampire incorporation, huh?  There was probably a lot of useful information on that laptop.

Dean slipped into the office, navigating between the plants and grabbing the laptop.  He took off his jacket and draped it over the computer, holding it underneath.  His luck had carried him this far, maybe he could push it just a little farther.

----

The elevator ride was nerve-wracking.  Dean tapped his foot as the numbers dinged past.  He hoped Rufus hadn’t tried anything stupid in the past twenty minutes.  When the doors chimed and slid open, Dean darted towards them and nearly bumped into Oscar.

“Oh good,” Oscar said dryly as Dean grappled with the laptop under his jacket, trying not to drop it.  “He’s done with you.”

Pale-faced, Dean nodded.  “Uh, yeah, he -- he was wonderful.”

“Please, no details.”  Oscar brushed past him, stepping into the elevator and pulling out his little brass key.  Dean turned around and strode stiffly towards the door, fighting the urge to bolt.

The black glass doors opened against the push of his shoulder, and the night closed around Dean like a blanket.  He heaved out a deep sigh, striding away from the building.  The bustle of the nighttime city was comfortingly mundane.  He wasn’t sure if this would be one of the hunts he bragged about, or never wanted to mention again.

“Dean!”

Dean spun at the sound of Rufus’s voice.  The man was peering out of the alley next to the Lioncourt skyscraper, looking half panicked and half impressed.  He had a significant length of rope looped over his shoulder.

“What the hell did you do?” he hissed as Dean jogged over.  “I thought I was gonna have to scale the building and bust your ass out of there, and suddenly this vamp head nearly lands on me!”

“I’ll regale you with the details later.”  Dean shot a nervous glance over his shoulder.  “I stole the secretary’s laptop.  We gotta get out of here before they notice.  Or find the Boss’s body.”

Rufus squinted, then beckoned Dean to follow him down the alley.  “We’re getting in the car and then you’d better tell me everything.  Secretary vampires, jesus.”

----

Chicago city lights flashed by as Rufus drove them back to the motel.  Dean had the computer open in his lap, navigating through the different folders.

“Shit, Rufus.  You were right, this is huge.”  Dean’s eyes scanned the screen.  “Half of these folders want some kinda password, but even the ones I can open are just -- I never knew vamps could organize like this.”

Rufus smirked.  “You got somethin’ in your eye there.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face.  “What?”

“Fire.”  Rufus gave Dean a grin.  “You’re havin’ fun, ain’t you?”

“On that job?  I don’t think I’ve ever hated a plan more.”

“Admit it, you missed the hunt.”

“Shut up.”  Dean’s face finally lost the battle with his grin.  “ ... I killed him with a piece of his own window.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Room with no weapons, and I still killed him.”  Dean clicked on another folder, scrolling through the contents.  “I’m a complete bada-- ”

Dean froze, his smile gone.  The photo on the screen stared back at him like an accusation.

Rufus glanced away from the road.  “What?  Something wrong?”

Dean’s voice barely worked, his lips struggling to form the words a few times before any noise came out.  “ ... It’s Ben.”

There was no mistaking him, even with the dim lighting and grainy photo.  That was the dark hair that Dean used to muss up, the eyes that used to look at him with such awe.  Those eyes looked dead now, out of focus.  And between Ben’s parted lips, Dean could see fangs.

Rufus’s voice cut the silence.  “ ... Does it say somethin’ about him?”

“Nothing.”  Dean’s mouth was dry.  He tried to wet his lips, closing the file.  His hands felt numb.  “It’s just a photo in a folder.”

“What’s the folder called?”

“ ... ‘Gifts.’”