#i seem to remember having trouble getting him vertical again once he figured out she liked it

[nym-wibbly]

In BOT did Rumbelle get around to oral sex?

They did! Rumple was down there like a shot once he believed Belle was into him rather than just tolerating him. Took a lot longer for him to work up the nerve to ask her to do him. I'm sure she'd have thought of it by herself a lot earlier if he hadn't kept her so thoroughly... distracted...

Poor Rumple. Always his own worst enemy.

[mandoalorian]

Sunkissed [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT

Warnings: SMUT; foreplay, oral (m! receiving), spanking, slight exhibitionist kink, cum facial, rough, Maxwell is a subtle (?) asshole.

Word count: 3k

Rating: 18+ only.

Author's note: YACHT SMUT YACHT SMUT YACHT SMUT. This whole one shot is based off this gif alone. I wish we got to see more of Yacht!Max in the movie because wowww this was a look.

Masterlist

Today was the day.

A few months ago, your agent called you with an opportunity you just couldn't resist. You were new to the 'acting' world, having only scored gigs in a toothpaste commercial and a local theatre production. This was different though; your agent stating there was a spot available for an infomercial. You weren't sure what to think. You imagined it being for some boring historical or political campaign and scrunched your nose up in displeasure. Nevertheless, you needed the money and all the experience you could get, so you prepped and went to the audition.

You were surprised when the directions your agent gave you took you to Black Gold Cooperative. You waited in a small room amongst a dozen other girls, before the CEO, Maxwell Lord, came padding in, doting his famous television smile. He hummed in delight, looking around, his eyes flicking between each girl. He pursed his lips together but didn't say a word, before pointing a ring clad finger at you and wiggling it in the air. "You're hired!" he grinned, his voice rich and filled with vibrancy. You knotted your eyebrows together in bewilderment, wanting to say something, but he was already gone. The other girls sighed and huffed, slowly disbanding and leaving the room. You were the last to leave, hesitantly standing up and tugging on the arm of a woman who worked in the office.

"I got the part," you bit your lip nervously and the blonde woman nodded her head, listening carefully. "But I don't really know what for."

"Mr Lord is shooting a new infomercial to promote the company, to try and boost investments." the lady explained.

"But I didn't even audition." you replied, genuinely confused.

"Why would you need to audition? Mr Lord is the star of all his infomercials. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty," the woman in the pink pant suit looked down at her clipboard. "We don't start shooting until summer, but we'll mail you all the details closer to the time." And with that, she was whisked away. You stood there in the middle of the office, completely dumbfounded.

About a week ago, you had got the details just as she promised. You showed up at the harbour fifteen minutes early that morning with a small case full of clothes that would last you the weekend. That's what you were promised as payment for the infomercial. Not cash, but a weekend away on Maxwell Lord's five star private yacht. To be honest, you'd rather have the money, but you'd never been on a yacht before, so you were looking forward to the experience.

"Right!" the director called, pulling her headphones down around her neck. "Mr Lord won't be boarding until noon so… just do as you please until then, but try and not cause any havoc," you looked around. It was only you and four other girls who'd be starting alongside the businessman. "He'll be boarding from a different harbour so we'll be sailing out there in around fifteen minutes. I'd recommend you all get ready for shooting."

You felt isolated. It seemed like the four other girls were quick to befriend one another, giggling and chatting about everything and anything. You didn't usually consider yourself shy but they seemed so different to you. You felt like an outcast.

You sighed, entering the yacht and finding your cabin. You spent a few moments settling in and adjusting yourself to the room before remembering the director had advised you all to get dressed and ready for shooting. You looked outside the small round window and couldn't help but smile. It was a beautiful, hot Summer's day. You stripped out of your clothes and into a floral bikini you'd forked out and purchased especially for today. You did your best to style your hair, but figured it was pointless knowing the salty sea air would get to it anyway. You felt like you had forgotten to grab something, but shrug it off, heading back outside to the deck of the ship. The golden sun rays beamed onto your skin and it felt amazing. Deciding you had a few hours, you placed down a towel and lay on the floor to sunbathe. You could hear the faint laugher of the girls who must've been gossiping elsewhere on the yacht, but you were thankful for a few moments of relaxation before shooting began.

You fell asleep. You didn't know how long you were out for, but it was long enough. You woke up when a cool shadow loomed over you, cutting away the sun beams and sending a shiver down your body. You slowly fluttered your eyes open, them widening when you saw who was standing before you.

Maxwell Lord.

Shit, had you really been asleep that long? You groaned apologetically, sitting upright and hoping you weren't in trouble. Maxwell was doting a blue and white vertical pinstripe button down, the top three buttons undone showing just enough of his bronzed chest to create a weakness in the pit of your stomach. His hair was golden under the sunlight, and he sported a pair of gold rimmed sunglasses. Upon inspecting closer, they looked like limited edition RayBans. He didn't stay a word, just stared at your body hungrily, admiring the way it was spread out.

"I-" you started. "Have we- have we started shooting? Shit, did I sleep through it?" you asked nervously and Maxwell couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"No, we start shooting in half an hour," he replied, shaking his head. Something about his presence still made you nervous. He sank to his knees, resting beside you and didn't tear his gaze from your body once. He placed his large, ring clad hand over your stomach. "Hot." he commented.

"Huh?" your eyes widened almost comically. Was he calling you hot? You shuddered under his touch, and it didn't go unnoticed by Max.

"Yeah, you're hot," his voice was gravelly and sensual as he began to trace his finger around your belly button, admiring the softness of your skin. "Quite literally burning up."

"Ohhhhh," you drawled out, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. For a second you thought he was coming onto you. And suddenly, you knew what he meant. You had fallen asleep under the sun for what might've been hours. It's not like you were going to be cold. "Oh right, yeah. I knew I forgot something. Sunscreen."

Max laughed light heartedly and it almost put you at ease, that is if you weren't already so nervous from his soft and delicate touches. "Don't fear," he smiled, dragging his fingers along your tummy. "Max is here." He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen from nowhere and presented you with it, a small and dorky 'ta-da!' escaping his lips. "May I?" he asked, slowly pushing you back down onto the towel that you were previously laying on.

It was hard to read his expression through the sunglasses, but you noted his quirked eyebrow and the wicked smirk that played across his lips.

"Okay." you affirmed with a reassuring smile. Maxwell pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to read the back of the product he was holding. For a second, you caught a glimpse of his dark, chocolate coloured eyes.

"This lotion has biotin in it, makes you glow like a teenager. Great for when you're in front of a camera," Maxwell explained as you heard him click open the cap and squirt some of the product into his hands. "Let me do your back first."

You wasted no time, following his instruction and turning over. Maxwell spent a moment, admiring the way your body was shaped so beautifully. His eyes trailed from the nape of your neck, down the dip of your back and along the curve of your ass. Your swimsuit panties left very little to the imagination and Max could already feel himself getting turned on, his cock twitching as he began to rub the cream into your shoulders. You hummed at the pressure of both of his hands as he worked at you.

"You know, I remember you," his voice was friendly and approachable, so much so that it almost distracted you from what he was doing to you. "I remember you from all those months ago. I remember the way you stood out from the other girls. There was just something about you I couldn't put into words… but now I see it." he didn't describe what exactly he saw but you could feel the butterflies stir in your stomach at his compliment. "I mean, look at you. You have a body that will sell. And I mean that in the best way possible." you felt his fingers play with the string that kept your bikini together. "May I?" he asked again. "Want to make sure I get every piece of your skin." he murmured.

"Yes," you breathed out, a little too shakily. With a gentle tug, the string came undone and Maxwell continued to rub the lotion down your body, his large hands travelling to the small of your back.

"This ass too," he hummed, giving you a little spank. You gasped, tossing your head back in pleasure. "Oh I see, you like that, don't you?" he chuckled, smacking you again but this time a little harder. You moaned, your lips parting into a perfect 'o' shape. He spent a considerable amount of time rubbing the silky lotion into the curves of your ass cheeks before working himself down the backs of your legs and to your feet. "Turn around and let me get your front."

You eagerly did as you were told. You rolled over, forgetting your bikini top had been untied from the back and gasped slightly when the thin, colourful material exposed your breasts. Maxwell tsked, shaking his head. You used your hands to cover your chest as the straps fell down your arms. "Don't worry darling, you don't have to hide yourself in front of me." he chuckled, slowly peeling your hands away from your body. He pulled off your bikini top and threw it aimlessly to one side.

He took the bottle of sunscreen and squirted a little more into his hands, before smothering it all over your chest. He dipped his fingers into your collarbones and gently stroked down the valley of your breasts. He got your stomach again, rubbing in the cream and making sure not to miss a single inch of skin. You moaned wantonly as his fingers glided across the hem of your bikini panties, slipping in just under the waistband teasingly.

You reached out, grabbing a hold of his wrists and dragging them back up to your chest, placing each of his hands so they were cupping your breasts. He squirted some more lotion, this time straight on your tits, and started to massage it into your soft skin. He still looked composed, despite his hard and leaking manhood pressed against the confines of his cream coloured, fitted pants.

His thumb grazed the bud of your nipples, even occasionally pinching at them to see if he could gain a reaction out of you. You moaned wantonly, feeling your folds grow slick with arousal as he teased you. Maxwell positioned himself on top of you, leaning down and pressing sloppy kisses all over your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipple and sucking on it greedily.

"Mm, what if someone sees?" you managed to whimper out as Max pulled away from you with a 'pop'.

"Don't worry princess, they're all preoccupied elsewhere. But we don't have long until the shoot begins and oh… look what you've done to me." Max pressed his crotch against your thigh so you could feel the thick, hard imprint of his cock. "You're gonna have to take care of this, sweet girl." he muttered, unzipping his pants and freeing his aching manhood.

You gasped as you took in the size of him, subconsciously licking your lips greedily. Max rose to his feet, jerking himself off as he walked over to the metal bars that gated the edge of the yacht. He looked over into the ocean, slowly pumping his length with one hand and with his free hand, he pulled up his sunglasses so they were resting in his hair. He turned back to you and pointed a finger, curling it and gesturing for you to come over. You didn't stand up, instead, crawling towards him with a primal glint in your eyes. Max leaned against the cool bars as the wind gently breezed through his hair and you straightened yourself up. You stayed down on your knees as you gently pulled Maxwell's hand away from his dick.

You felt your mouth begin to water with anticipation as Max's hands fell into your hair. You ran your fingers down his cock to tease the CEO the best you could, knowing full well this might be the only time you'd be able to exert your dominance over someone as powerful as Maxwell Lord. Max grunted under your delicate touch, and began to subconsciously thrust himself into your hand.

Eventually, you leaned in to lick the tip of his cock. You found yourself lapping at his small slit which was leaking with his salty precum. Your small kitten licks earned groans of pleasure and praise from Maxwell as he quietly begged for more. Max's breathing got heavier and he started to exhale sharp sighs, everytime you swirled your tongue against the tip of his cock. You finally sunk your mouth down as deep as you could, and Max's breathing became shallow as he mewled a string of dirty curses.

You cupped his balls with your hands, playing with them as you deepthroated the businessman to the best of your ability. You ignored the way tears pricked your eyes and your saliva mixed with his precum dribbled down your chin. Max Lord always liked to take control, and he began to thrust his cock deep into your mouth. But as always, he craved more. He craved for something warmer and wetter. He ran his fingers through your hair and pulled your head away from his manhood so his cock bounced against your face.

"Stand up." he commanded and you did so with a wobble. He pulled you over to where he was standing and bent you over the side of the ship, pulling your bikini bottoms down quickly and roughly. He spanked you again, earning a pretty little wail of surprise.

You felt him line his cock up against your soaking wet folds as his tummy pressed into your ass. He rubbed the tip against your entrance teasingly until you were crying out his name and begging him to fuck you.

When he finally pushed his length into you, you couldn't help but scream. You gasped, your fingers curling around the metal bars so hard your knuckles turned white as he set up a brutal and rough page. His movements were unforgiving as he fucked you so hard and fast, your poor legs felt like they were going to give way. But he had you pinned against the barrier, and the way he mumbled sweet nothings and appraisal into your ear only spurred you on more. He told you how much of a good girl you were for taking his cock so well. He warned that if you kept screaming, you'd alert the filming crew. He'd tease you, nibbling and biting gently at the skin as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

"Gonna cum," you warned, your moans becoming erratic as he kept pushing into that perfect sweet spot inside of you. Your walls clenched around his cock tighter than a vice as you came. But he didn't stop fucking you. Your body ached as he used your pussy to bring himself to his own climax.

"Ngh— fuck!" Max cried out as he doubled back, pulling out of you and pushing you back down onto your knees. He jerked himself rapidly and you noted the way his cock throbbed in his hands. "Gonna make a mess off your pretty face." he chuckled darkly. "Mouth. Open."

You did as you were told, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out as Max's salty load roped into your mouth. At least— most of it got into your mouth. His eyes slammed shut and his cum sprayed onto your face and dripped down your chin and onto your chest. You couldn't believe how pent up he was. He slowly opened his eyes and gave you a small nod. You closed your mouth and swallowed his load with a hum of approval, licking your lips and fluttering your eyelashes.

"Five minutes until shooting!" you heard the director call and you gasped. Max smirked, taking a mental image of how sexy you looked with his cum splayed all over you.

"You better clean yourself up." Max laughed, taking your hand and helping you to your feet.

You were at a complete loss for words. Your hair was sticking to your skin from the sweat and your whole body was slippery with the sunscreen Max had applied earlier. Max grabbed the towel that you were once lying on and threw it in your direction. You noticed he had already tucked himself back into his pants, and, other than the few strands of dark blonde hair that had fallen out of place, he looked ready to go.

You wondered how often he did this. How often he fucked his employees on set before he shot important commercials or infomercials. There was something about his energy that thrilled you and filled your body with desire. He left you wanting more. And, knowing you'd be spending the whole weekend with him on this yacht, part of you figured this wouldn't be the last time he'd touch you like this.

Taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!)~

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190

[batgurl1989]

A Wolf In Toussaint Chapter Three

Summary: After being summoned by the Duchess, you and Geralt head to the Palace of Beauclair with some trouble on the road.

Word Count: 2120

Warnings: spoilers for the Blood and Wine DLC

A/N: I know this is so soon after the last chapter, but I was too excited not to post it. Taglist is open, requests are open.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Taglist: @rmtndew @henrynerdfan @princesssterek @seanh-boredom @djinny-djin-djin @diegos-butt @cynic-spirit @daddys-littlewhitegirl

"Younin! Watch out!" Geralt growled a warning at you as you dodged a stream of caustic acid an Archespore shot at you. Where Igni hadn't scorched the ground, the large plant-like monsters' poison had. Geralt slashed at one of the large plants, trying to sever it's head.

You tried to stay to the edges of the battle zone, drawing on the smoldering embers for power as you kept fire shooting from one hand at the plants. You didn't have any silver weapons on you, which would have to be remedied as soon as possible. You knew Geralt was worried about you, and that was causing him to be distracted. It had only been a few days since you woke up, and this was the first time you had had to fight since the bandits on your way to Novigrad. You knew it was a risk to draw on the fire, as it was the hardest element to control, and the chaos was weakening you at an alarming rate. But right now, you didn't need to control where it went as long as you aimed wide of where Geralt was.

"It's multiplying!" You called out over the din of the fighting. Buds were springing from the ground. Though these weren't full blown monsters yet, the vibrations of the fire and the fighting were agitating them. One burst close to you, spitting acid in all directions. A droplet landed on your boot, sizzling as it ate through the leather. "Shit!"

Geralt was by your side in a flash, pulling your boot off before the acid could make it to your skin. His eyes met yours for the briefest of moments, concern and something else flashing in the golden depths. You nodded that you were alright, and he was gone again. He swung his heavy silver sword deftly into the monster, his energy seeming to have jolted back to full now that you had come close to being hurt.

Turning your attention to the buds, you carefully stepped further back, out of range of any shooting poison. With your boot off, the rocky ground bit into your sole, but you couldn't think about that now. As long as you avoided the acid pools, you could handle it. Eyeing up the buds that seemed ready to burst, you unleashed a stream of fire, using all your concentration to aim true. The blooming plants burst into fire, sizzling as they wilted to the ground, their poison remaining inside and lighting up with the petals.

Your head snapped around when you heard hissing and squealing. Geralt had slashed through the bud that served as the monster's head, ending the monster's life, and stopping it from creating more buds. He carefully wiped his blade off before returning it to it's sheath alongside his steel blade.

With laser-like focus, he stormed over to you, his hungry eyes raking over your body in such a way that your breath caught in your suddenly dry throat. The tip of your tongue darted out to wet your lips, his eyes tracking the motion like a starving animal. You heard a low rumble deep in his chest, and it set all your nerves on fire, ready for him.

When he reached you, he pulled you roughly into his arms, his mouth covering yours with such force your teeth clacked against his. A long low moan escaped you as you pressed against him, desperate to get closer. The adrenaline from the battle still coursed through both your veins, and it needed an outlet. His hands spanned your back, pressing you tightly against his armour, his fingers gripping the linen shirt you wore for the road. You clutched the grooves of his armour, standing on your toes to kiss him deeper, your tongue delving into his mouth to tangle with his own.

His hands travelled lower, gripping your arse before he lifted you off the ground. Instinctively you wrapped your leather bound legs around his waist, your arms going around his neck to steady yourself. With one arm banded under your legs, his free hand dove into your hair, pulling it free of the ponytail you had tossed it into. Your red hair caught in the breeze, fluttering around both your heads in a curtain of fire, blocking out the world.

You pulled away when breathing became a necessity, resting your forehead on his. His golden eyes searched yours, but you didn't know what he was looking for. You breathed deeply his scent, the adrenaline leaving your system, and your nerves calming. This man drove you wild and seemed to centre you. It was a complete whiplash effect, and had your head spinning, but you wouldn't give it up for anything.

"I suppose we should find the horses?" You whispered, not wanting to destroy the mood of your little world. Geralt chuckled softly, before kissing you all too briefly one last time. Slowly, he let you slide down his body until you were on solid ground again. As your foot hit the rocky ground, you remembered you only had one boot on. "I don't suppose you packed extra boots in my size?"

"Sorry, it was a vast oversight on my part." Geralt shook his head, going to retrieve your boot. He examined it quickly to make sure there was no acidic poison left on it, and to make sure the hole hadn't ruined the integrity of the boot. "You should be able to wear it until we get to the city. I promise to buy you a new pair."

"You don't have to do that. I can buy my own." You blushed as you sat on a nearby log to pull your boot back on. The hole wasn't any larger than the size of your pinky nail, and as long as it didn't rain, you would make it to the city. "Could we also stop by a blacksmith, and see about getting me a silver sword or at least a dagger?"

"Of course." Geralt nodded, offering you a hand to help you up once your boot was laced again. You took his rough hand, but didn't let go once you were vertical. He raised his eyebrows at you, but a small smile played at his lips, and his grip tightened around your fingers. "But first, horses."

It didn't take you long to find the horses. They had run off at the first sound of trouble, but these were Toussaint horses, and were used to being ridden into battle, so they hadn't gone far. They were munching grass as though bored, which you couldn't help but laugh at.

"Dandelion is bringing Roach and Marabelle when he comes down. He sent a letter while you were sleeping." Geralt explained once you were back on the road to the Palace of Beauclair.

"So the King let him go?" You were surprised that you hadn't been worried about it until now. Sure you had been busy being captured and then healing and regaining your strength, but your friend's well-being should have come to mind before now. You mentally kicked yourself for being so selfish. "Do we know yet what went wrong?"

"From what Yen could figure out from her sources, the King of Beggars is either working for someone who wants you and he was delivering you to him, or he was trying to get you away from the person who wants you." Geralt fought hard but ultimately failed to keep the edge off his tone. You weren't the only one jealous of an ex. "One day, you will have to tell me what he means to you."

"If that's what you really want." You had nothing to hide, and if Geralt needed to know for his own peace of mind, you wouldn't keep that from him.

"I'm not sure that it is." Geralt grumbled, adjusting the reins in his hands. "But it might be something that can give us a clue as to what just went down."

"Perhaps when we get back from the Palace, we will have time." You nodded. You knew how hard it was to ask about an ex, and if Geralt wasn't sure he was ready yet, you weren't going to push it. The King meant literally nothing to you other than as a friend, but you weren't sure Geralt would believe that without hearing the rest of it. "So is there anything I need to know about the Duchess?"

"Other than she likes things done her way and quickly, not really." Geralt shrugged. To him, the Duchess was no different than any other client, other than she had the army to back up her demands while farmers and villagers barely had the coin to get his services in the first place. "She can run a little hot and cold, but that depends on how grave the job is. If there is no job, she is actually quite pleasant to be around."

"Oh?" You raised your eyebrow at the Witcher, your voice dripping with unimpressed sarcasm. Knowing him and his past, there was only one conclusion that jumped out at you after what he said.

"Not like that, I swear." Geralt laughed deeply, warmly, in a way you rarely ever heard. Then his face grew serious. "Her sister, however..."

"You're joking! You have to be!" You blinked a few times, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he slept with the Duchess's sister. You were pretty sure she was dead, but didn't know if Geralt had a hand in that or not. "Are you joking?"

"I don't kiss and tell." Geralt winked at you but remained silent. Frowning you tried to think of a way to get him to talk, but knew that once he set his mind to it, there wasn't much you could do to change it.

"Fine. Keep your secrets." You mock pouted, turning back to the road ahead. The palace and the sprawling city across the river from it had come into view, and it took your breath away with its beauty.

"Like nothing up North, isn't it?" Geralt commented, watching you take in the fairytale-esque scene in front of you. The towering palace with its spires and arching bridges. Tall trees and rooftop gardens painted the scene with every shade of green. The lake shone like a fiery sapphire as the sunlight reflected on its smooth surface.

"Definitely not." You couldn't tear your eyes from it as you continued to ride towards it. You didn't remember making the decision to kick your horse into a gallop, but sound the wind was whipping through your loose hair, pulling it behind you as you raced toward the city. Geralt kept pace with you, smiling as the joy inside you bubbled into laughter at the freedom you felt in that moment.

At the city gates, you slowed your horses. Unlike in Novigrad, the guards at the gate were mostly there to keep the peace. No one was checking papers, or questioning anyone about whether they were magical or not. Everyone was free to roam in and out of the city as they wished. The atmosphere was completely different than what you were used to, and you felt almost giddy about it.

As you rode through town, your head was constantly swiveling to take in the sights and sounds of the lively city. Artists advertised their skills and their work outside brightly lit shops. Bakers were rushing to keep up with the demand for their pastries. Florists boasted about the colours of their most recent blooms, ready to steal the hearts of those who received them. Fresh fish was brought in from the river, the catch of the day being shouted to draw in more customers. There were few street walkers and even fewer homeless people. The cobble streets were wide and clean, nothing like what you were used to in Velen.

Geralt watched you with an amused look, indulging you when you wanted to stop to watch a street performer either sing or dance. He handed you coins to give to them when the performance was finished as you clapped loudly. Your heart sang out in happiness that he was showing you this part of his world and his life. You could see yourself easily settling in at Corvo Bianco, making wine, traveling to the city when you wanted to take in some art and culture. You found yourself wondering if Geralt would ever retire from the Path, and settle down here for good. But you shooed that dark cloud away before it could rain on the brightness of your day. You didn't know what the Duchess wanted, and that was as much darkness as you wanted right now.

[flimflamfranky]

Day 14 - Heat Exhaustion

Franky discovers a drawback to his cybernetics.

~

It was so hot.

Franky tugged at his shirt, trying to fan some air in there, as he followed Nami through the town. They had just landed on a new island, some small fishing village on the way Sabaody, for a quick pit spot. He and Nami both needed more ink and paper, so they had set out together.

(Nami also claimed it was to “curb his horrendous spending habits”, which, rude. He wasn’t that bad - he only barely went over the limit last time! But still, he didn’t mind the company.) It was supposed to a fun little outing - get out, stretch the legs, see the sights, pick up some supplies. Franky had been looking forward to it. It was nice to have quiet trips to land between all the adventuring. But apparently, this was also a summer island, and summer islands were hot. Too hot. How could everyone else stand it? His back felt it was drenched in sweat, and everyone else was walking around like it was a perfectly pleasant day! A fun outing, Franky bemoaned to himself. This was miserable.

Eventually, they got to what seemed to be a town square - it was a plaza, with benches and trimmed bushes, and a small fountain. Nami stopped to ask some locals where a stationary store would be and Franky immediately narrowed on the fountain. Water! Cool, refreshing water! He rushed over, and sprawl out as much as possible, leaning back into the faint spray of water with a relieved sigh. He briefly considered just jumping in, but he’d definitely get chewed out by Nami. He did stick a foot in there, though, and ignored the weird looks he got from the locals. “Wow, tired already?” Nami teased as she joined him. “You’re such an old man.” “I ain’t that old!” Franky protested. And then he looked at her, confused. “Aren’t you hot, too?” He asked, waving to her outfit. It was a smart outfit - colorful buttoned up shirt and khakis - but Franky broke out into another sweat just looking at it. “No?” Nami said, looking down at herself. “It feels fine to me.” “That ain’t fair. I’m over here sufferin’, and you’re fine and dandy.” Franky wiped at the sweat on his brow. “I swear, Water 7 never got this hot.” “Yeah, because of all the water,” Nami said, smirking. “You’re just not used to this kinda heat.” Franky grumbled a vague protest, and glared up at the sun. Well, squinted vaguely in its direction, but still. “If it’s bothering you,” Nami said. “I can go by myself-“ “No, no!” Franky forced himself up. “It’s fine. I can handle it.” “Well, alright,” Nami said, and she pointed down one of the streets. “That lady said there was a shop down this way that sold ink and papers.” Franky gestured for her to lead the way, and followed her at a brisk pace. He wasn’t about to let some measly heat get the best of him! He’d just tough it out. Maybe he’d even get use to it, after some exposure. Either way, he could totally handle it. Everything was going to be fine. ~ Everything was not fine. If anything, it got worse. It felt like his cola was boiling inside of him. The store hadn’t helped matters - it had been stifling inside without the light breeze. He had to leave the whole transaction up to Nami. Not that she would’ve allowed otherwise, but he had barely been able to focus on even picking out some paper. He was having a lot of trouble with that, focusing. It was like he was in haze, like his brain was melting into a puddle of goo. He felt heavy. Lethargic. It super sucked. At least they were heading back to the Sunny, now. He can handle that, no problem. “Franky?” “Huh?” Franky looked down to see Nami peering up at him. The look on her face made hin suspect she’d been calling him for a while. Oops. She squinted at him, face drawn into a frown. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Franky waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Honest.” “You don’t look fine,” Nami said, unimpressed. “Come on, we can go sit somewhere until-“ “No!” Franky said, stubbornly. He wasn’t gonna give up because of a little heat! “I can...make to back to the Sunny.” “Ugh, why are you guys always so stubborn? You don’t have to push yourself like this!” “I’m not-“ Franky cut off as he stumbled over his feet, just barely catching himself before he ate dirt. “Woah, hey!” Nami was sounded panicked now. Crap. He didn’t want to worry her. “It’s fine.” Franky tried say. He felt strangely breathless. “I must’ve just...tripped over somethin’...” “No, that excuse won’t work on me,” Nami snapped as she reached out to steady him. “You should really- Ah!” Her hands had rested on his arm, but she immediately withdrew, shaking her hands. “Jeez, you’re burning up!” Franky blinked at the ground, hard. Something was beginning to feel wrong. Wrong with his cybernetics, wrong. He thought it was just the heat, but there was something else, he could feel it. He...needed to get back to the Sunny. Now. He opened his mouth to tell Nami that, but his tongue felt heavy and he couldn’t get his breathing right. He...he needed to get up. He forced himself up, hands out to steady himself. His eyes snapped to the horizon, and for a moment everything was good, but then, almost in slow motion, everything began tilting, going all sideways, and that was weird- “Franky!” Oh, he was on the ground again. That wasn’t right. He needed to get up. To...the Sunny. That’s right. He tried to get up, but his limbs wouldn’t respond right. It was like he was moving through oil. Someone was standing over. Hands hovering. Orange hair. Nami. He couldn’t worry her. He needed to get up. He needed- ~ Franky woke to a headache. The dull throb almost shocked him awake, pulling him from a hazy half-asleep state. Then he became uncomfortably aware of other things - a scratchy throat, clammy skin, cramping muscles. He winced. “Franky?” Franky cracked on eye open. The glaring light hurt, but he was able to make out Chopper hovering over him, holding something. He tried to say something but his mouth was too dry and his throat was too sore so all that came out was a pathetic wheeze. “Can you sit up? You need to drink this water.” Franky scowled at the thought of moving, but he did shuffled up into a vaguely vertical position, helped by Chopper’s gentle hands. Then, a glass of water was pushed into his hand. “Drink. Slowly, please.” Franky nodded absently, and took a small sip. The cool relief was almost instantaneous, and Franky found himself draining the whole thing in one go. “I said slowly!” Chopper yelled, wacking him lightly on the arm. “Sorry,” Franky mumbled, weakly, handing the glass back. Chopper refilled it, and passed it back. Franky drank, slowly this time, taking measured sip under Chopper’s stern watch, until Chopper deemed him hydrated enough. Once he handed the glass back, Franky slumped back down, feeling exhausted. Had just drinking water drained him that much? Yeesh. Chopper hovering over him. “Do you remember what happened?” Franky furrowed his brow in thought. “Yeah, I went shopping with Nami, and is was super hot. Too hot. And I...fainted?” At Chopper’s confirming nod, Franky groaned. “That’s embarrassing.” “It’s concerning, that’s what it is!” Chopper said, his voice going even more squeaky. “You almost had a heatstroke!” “Oh.” Franky blinked. “Is that bad?” “Yes!!!” Chopper wailed. “You could’ve died!” “Oh.” Franky winced, and sunk down further into the pillow. “I...I didn’t think it was that bad...” Chopper wiped at his nose with a sniffle, and gave him a glare. “Nami said you were being stubborn.” Ah, and there was that guilt. He’d gone and sacred everyone, hadn’t he? “I’m sorry,” He said. Then, he remembered, vaguely, Nami panicking over him, and...burning herself? “Is Nami alright?” “She’s fine,” Chopper said. “A little shaken, but fine. She got Luffy to bring you back here.” Franky sighed in relief, and he grimaced. “Ugh. She’s gonna super chew me out later, isn’t she?” “Yes. And you’ll deserve it,” Chopper said. “And I’ll deserve it,” Franky repeated, resigned.  He settled further down into the pillow with a deep sigh. There was a moment of silence before Chopper spoke up again. “You know you don’t have to prove anything to us, right?” Chopper said, worrying his hooves together. “We wouldn’t think any less of you.” “Yeah, I know,” Franky said, reaching out to give Chopper a pat on the hand. “It just seemed like such a little thing to brought low by, ya know? And honestly,” Franky chuckled sheepishly. “I thought, being a cyborg n all, I wouldn’t be effected by these sorts of things as much.” “I suppose that makes sense.” Chopper said, reaching up to grab Franky’s hand. Franky let his hand slide down so Chopper could hold it easier. “I have a theory, actually.” “Yeah?” “Yeah!” Chopper nodded. “You were really hot to the touch, earlier, your metal. And, I’ve noticed, you tend to run hotter than everyone else. I think, maybe; your cybernetics caused you to overheat faster than normal.” “Yeah,” Franky sighed. “That’s my theory, too. Means I gotta lot of work ahead of me.” Chopper titled his head, confused. “Eh?”

“I’ve already got a coolant for my fridge, so I just need to beef up that system and rewire it through my body.” Franky chewed at his lip, pensive. “This’ll probably happen in cold weather too, so I should probably add a heating system as well...Gotta figure out how to make it automatic, but manual wouldn’t hurt either...”

He trailed off when he felt Chopper grip his hand tighter, and he looked to down to see Chopper getting teary-eyed again.

“You can fix this?” Chopper asked, blinking up at him.

“Well, yeah, bro,” Franky said, patting Chopper’s check. “Wouldn’t even be that hard, really.”

Chopper slumped against his hand, letting out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear!”

“I really worried you, huh?”

“It was hard not to be,” Chopper said. “I’m not exactly a mechanic, ya know.”

“Oh. Yeah, I could see that being a problem.” Franky let his hand relax, held up by Chopper’s grip, as he yawned. “I can teach ya a few things. If ya want.” “I’d like that,” Chopper said, with a wobbly grin. Then he sniffled, and put on his stern doctor face. “But first! You need to rest more! I shouldn’t have kept you up so much!”

“I don’t mind,” Franky said, grinning, even though he did feel exhausted. “I’m not taking medical opinion from you, Mister-Ignore-My-Symptoms.” Chopper bopped him gently on the head. “Now rest!”

Franky chuckled, but he settled further into the bed, making himself comfortable. “Aye, aye, Doctor.”  

[slashthedice]

Ko-Fi Commission: Michael x OC for @crybabyassbitch

Thank you so much for letting me write for Calliope again! I can’t say it enough, you are amazing for being so patient with my inability to practice time management and all the random speed blocks life has thrown my way in the past few weeks. The inspiration for this piece absolutely swept me away so it ended up being quite long. This hospital is definitely not OSHA compliant. Calliope belongs to @crybabyassbitch.

Word Count: 4,772

Calliope blinked awake slowly. Her head was pounding, and her body felt strange. Her skull was heavy on her neck, but she lolled it to the side to better look at her surroundings. She blinked again, baying her eyelids to clear away the hazy film that obscured her vision. The smell of cleaner and floor wax stung her nostrils, burning at her lungs. She coughed as her respiratory system rejected the sterile smell and her head revolted, bolts of pain flashing in warning behind her eyes.

She squeezed her eyes shut with a groan, waiting for the throbbing to dissipate. Once she no longer felt as though someone had buried an axe in her skull, she pried her eyelids back open. The room seemed clearer now, and moment by moment she was able to gain her bearings.

She was in a bed. Pristine white sheets had been tucked in about her body, cocooning her motionless form. The floors were a white linoleum flecked with reds and greys. The snowy color of the stark walls was only broken up by what may have been a handrail and an outlet here and there. A light wood door was shut tight, sealing her off from whatever waited on the outside. A narrow vertical window allowed only a sliver of artificial light to spill in a line across the linoleum. 

She swiveled her head to look to her right, and found two uncomfortable looking arm chairs and a side table with a number of rumpled magazines stacked haphazardly atop each other. They were framed by a curtained window, but the gauzy curtains did little to prevent moonlight from seeping into the space. Calliope flicked her eyes upwards and noticed for the first time a monitor perched at the apex of a silver pole. She realized that it beeped slowly, almost cautiously, and was amazed that she hadn’t noticed the sound before. Following the lines of the wires that hung from it, she found that they attached to what appeared to be electrodes stuck to her chest.

Her jumbled mind seemed to click all at once as she came to the conclusion that she was in a hospital. How had she gotten here? Calliope racked her mind for a memory to explain her circumstances, willing away the pounding headache in hopes of achieving some mental clarity.

She gasped audibly as a flash of recollection overtook her.

Calliope had been driving, heading home for the day. She was running a bit late, and that fact had been weighing heavily on her. Her stomach was in knots, and her sweaty hands would have been trembling uncontrollably if not for her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. She would be in for it as soon as she walked through the door. Who knew what he would do? There was no way to predict what punishment was in store, because she couldn’t possibly predict him.

She had been distracted, distant, not paying attention to the road before her. On either side of the dark asphalt, reaching trees pushed their grasping branches towards the inky black sky, and she hadn’t noted the wailing of sirens or the lone figure that stepped out in front of her from the treeline. A deer? No, a man. A man with a bone white face. Or was it a mask?

She remembered swerving and the sound of screeching tires, and then the world had gone black.

Her heart beat stuttered as a sickening dread dripped through her insides. It couldn’t have been Michael. The thought repeated itself madly. He wouldn’t have been there, couldn’t have. Who found her? Who called the ambulance? She shook such useless queries from her mind. If it had been Michael, he would surely know where she was now, 

Would he come to get her? If he did, would he take her back? Or was she too much trouble now? He would never simply let her go, but would he risk coming here to kill her?

She had to get out of there. Her best bet was to get home to him, to throw herself at his feet and to his mercy. Maybe he would still kill her, but it was her best and only chance.

Calliope pushed herself up on her elbows, and the room spun around her as if suddenly placed upon a merry-go-round. Her stomach lurched, and she choked down the urge to heave. She forced her body on, wincing at the tightening in her chest and the subsequent soreness. She hated to imagine the bruising that had no doubt been left by the seat belt.

The icy floor sent shockwaves up her legs when she swung them over the side of the bed and touched her toes to the linoleum. She felt unsteady, wobbly like a newborn deer. She tore the electrodes from her chest, and the heart monitor emitted a high pitched whining noise. She thought grimly that if she were to die tonight, there would be nothing the wailing machine could do to stop it.

She cast about for her clothes, but found nothing. She supposed the gown would have to do, and was only thankful that they had allowed her to keep her underwear on. However, a lone patient wandering the halls in the middle of the night would certainly attract attention. She couldn’t be caught if she wanted any hope of surviving.

Calliope placed her hand on the knob as she leaned against the door to peek out the window. She realized that the hall lights were out, a fact which struck her as odd but did not set off any warning bells. The only light came from emergency flood lights that were spaced equidistantly along the length of the hallway. Had the power gone out?

She turned the knob slowly, praying that it wouldn’t make a sound to alert any nearby medical personnel or security guards to her attempted escape. The door swung open soundlessly, and Calliope leaned into the hallway. She swung her head back and forth, but found the passage completely devoid of life. She was alone.

This was the only hospital in town, but it wasn’t very large. There was no way that there shouldn’t be a single solitary soul besides herself around. So as she crept onwards and rounded a corner to where the nurses station sat abandoned, she realized that something was very, very wrong.

She continued onward, her goal of escape now sidetracked by a morbid and dreaded curiosity. In her heart, she felt she knew what was happening, but she was far too scared to admit it to herself.

She felt all the blood drain from her face when she heard the first scream.

Despite being muffled by the hospital walls, it was shrill and strangled. The bloody sound of a prey animal alerting its companions with its final breath. Her heartbeat pounded wildly against her ribcage, a fluttering bird desperate for escape. One word blared at the forefront of her mind, a disaster siren that numbed her better judgement.

Run. Run. Run!

Calliope took off down the hallway, sprinting in the direction of the staircase as indicated by the illuminated exit signs. Her bare feet slapped against the polished floor, the sound deafening in her ears. He could hear her. He would find her.

In her mind, she could already feel him breathing down her neck. Were those his heavy footsteps behind her? Her frantic thoughts assured her that at any moment he would grab her by the hair and pull her backwards into her certain demise.

She stretched her arms forward as she approached the door to the stairs. Just a few more feet and she could run as quickly down the stairs as her wobbly legs would allow. She would run all the way home barefoot and nearly naked if necessary. 

She shoved into the stairwell, nearly toppling head over heels down the flight before her. The silence had been broken by more than just her startled gasp and uncoordinated flailing. She heard the heavy sound of frantically labored breathing, and the slapping of sensible shoes as they ascended the stairs. Calliope watched with wide eyes as a woman rounded the corner.

The woman was pretty, with curly blonde hair piled atop her head in a messy bun. She was dressed in a nurse’s scrubs, the pale pink fabric splattered with blood. Her fear was tangible, and for a moment Calliope found herself unable to move beneath the oppressive weight of it. The nurse spotted her, pale as a ghost and illuminated by the emergency light that illuminated the landing. A brief spark of hope chased the terror momentarily from her eyes.

“You have to help me! He killed the others, he’s trying to kill me!”

He.

The air was sucked from Calliope’s lungs in one fell swoop. This poor woman couldn’t possibly know the depth of the situation. There would be no escape, not for either of them. Not now that he was here, bearing down upon them. She couldn’t move, and even as the nurse began to ascend the stairs towards her, she could feel his presence.

Like a ghost materializing from empty space, Michael separated from the shadows as he stepped into view. Calliope felt as if he had a hold on her heart even from afar, strangling it and halting its frenzied beating. The nurse wailed when she glanced back at him, the sound of her panic splattering against Calliope’s eardrums. Michael’s focus was fixed to his current prey, but she felt it in every atom of her body when his eyes lifted and found her. 

She knew it. He was here to kill her. She had outlived her usefulness and he had come to rid himself of her once and for all. She didn’t want to die, there was so much of her life she had left to live.

No, she decided, she would live. She looked back at Michael directly, shaking off the blank, frozen posture of a deer trapped in the headlights. Maybe it was a feverish imagining of her own desperation, but she could have sworn there was an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. His head tilted downwards to the nurse once more, and a horrible understanding crashed down upon her.

Calliope could save herself, but it would cost this innocent woman her life.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. She saw the woman reaching towards her as she stumbled up the stairs. She could grab this woman and drag her with her, back through the door she had come in. She could lock it behind them, putting a barrier between them and Michael. Maybe that would give her the time she needed to escape and save this nurse whose only crime was having the misfortune of working at this hospital. Maybe they could outsmart Michael long enough to make it to safety.

It was wishful thinking.

Most likely, he would catch them elsewhere. He would kill the nurse first, make Calliope watch while he stabbed her in the belly and let her bleed out. He would show her just how futile her attempted altruistic disobedience truly was. Then he would wrap his hands around her throat and choke the life out of her. Escape was not an option.

She felt herself turning before she understood it was happening. She had made her choice without consciously realizing it. She took the first step away, and then time was moving once more and she was running through the door and into the hallway. The cries of “Wait!” and “Please!” from the nurse were like a punch to the stomach, but she did not slow. 

Calliope slammed the door behind her. Despite the near violent shaking of her hands, her fingers found the lock and she forced the bolt into place. She took a step back just as the nurse threw herself against the solid wooden barrier.

She was close enough that Calliope could see the tears streaming down her face. She saw the fear and the confusion, the desperation and the bitter sorrow. The woman pounded on the door and screamed. The sound of it was indescribable, and Calliope thought it might shatter her.

A shape loomed over the woman and she screamed again, although this time it rang in her head like a death knell. The muffled keen ended in a choked gurgle. Calliope could not withhold the gasped cry that escaped her as the nurse’s body jolted and she coughed blood onto the thin window pane. The light fled her eyes. The tension in her form slackened. For a moment, Calliope held eye contact with a corpse, and then the woman she had sentenced to die slid to the floor and out of her view.

She was left watching the rise and fall of a familiar chest, tinted crimson by the film of blood on the reinforced glass. She knew she had to unlock and open the door, but the irrepressible primal urge to turn tail and flee nearly took hold of her. It was odd, but although fear made her hesitate, it was no longer a fear of Michael. 

She couldn’t bear to see the evidence of what she had done. If she were to open the door, then she would be forced to look upon the accusingly empty face of the woman she had killed as surely as if she had been the one to wield the knife. The blood of this complete stranger was on her hands. Guilt dug its claws into her stomach, making her feel nauseous.

Michael shifted, a sign of his growing impatience. 

Calliope stepped forward. Reached out. Grasped the lock. Twisted. Each and every movement was mechanical, slowed by her reluctance. She could have sworn the handle was slick with blood when she took hold of it.

She pulled the door open, choking on the bile the rose in her throat at the scent of death it released. She couldn’t look down at the corpse Michael stepped over so uncaringly. Calliope backed up to accommodate him, looking at the blank facade of his mask for any indication of his intentions. She had done what he wanted, dirtied her own hands and surely proven her devotion. It had to be enough.

He towered over her, looming in the low light of the corridor. The two of them were enveloped in darkness and the sound of Michael’s breathing behind the mask. A cold sweat had broken out across her skin. The paper thin hospital gown stuck to her back uncomfortably. Michael, like some horrific angel of death, was drenched in blood and viscera. A gory halo seemed to hang around him as a reminder of what carnage he was capable. Blood, fresh and shining, dripped from the knife in his hand and splattered in ruby droplets on the linoleum.

She wondered how many people he had killed that night. She wondered if she would be next.

Calliope took a tremulous, hesitant step forward. Her heart had finally begun beating again, and it did so with all the vigor of a runaway train. Entering his proximity felt like stepping into the jaws of a hungry lion, but she needed to show him that she was his. Always. She would not run despite every instinct she had begging her to flee.

She couldn’t remember him taking a step forward, but it seemed that he was suddenly overwhelmingly close. The energy rolling off of him was suffocating, and she found herself choking on every breath. He was just staring at her, but her knees shook beneath the weight of her body. Tears stung her eyes. This was the moment of truth. Michael was her judge, jury, and executioner.

She opened her mouth, hoping to explain that she hadn’t meant to get in the accident, that she had been trying to get back to him when he found her. No sound came out. She closed her mouth before trying again.

“Michael-”

The knife clattered to the ground and he lunged at her.

Calliope shrieked as his hands found her throat and he forced her bodily backwards. Instinct caused her to take hold of his forearms, to try to pry his iron grasp from her neck. This only spurred him on. 

He squeezed and she began to panic. No, no, no, no. Not after she had all but murdered that woman whose body was cooling only a few feet awayl. Hadn’t she proved herself? Was it not enough?

The world went dark around her, dim shadow turned pitch black. She clawed futilely at the hands restricting her airway. They could have stood like that for mere moments or for centuries. As her consciousness slipped away, she could only focus on his eyes. They were barely visible, but she saw it. She saw the layer of ice that glazed them over. There was no feeling, not an ounce of compassion.

Calliope didn’t want to see anymore. She couldn’t bear to know how little she mattered to him. She closed her eyes, and accepted oblivion.

***

For the second time that night, Calliope awoke confused and in pain.

She was alive? How? Hadn’t Michael intended to kill her? If he was one thing, it was thorough when it came to the art of murder. If he had intended for her to die, she would be dead.

So he wanted her alive?

She rolled onto her side, taking in the space around her. She recognized it immediately, as it was her bedroom. She had somehow gotten back to her house, and the only viable explanation for such a circumstance, was that Michael had taken it upon himself to carry her here. Or had he driven? He certainly hadn’t taken her car, as she was fairly certain it had lost the battle with whatever tree she had crashed into. She supposed there must have been any number of choices from the vehicles that had belonged to his victims at the hospital.

Oh god, the hospital. The nurse.

The thought of Michael absconding with her unconscious body in the car belonging to the woman she had helped him kill made a guilt-ridden nausea pool in her gut. She gagged, but it had been so long since she had last eaten that there was nothing left in her stomach to expel. 

She sat up with a painful slowness. She was naked, she realized, as the cool air of the old house ghosted across her skin. The room was dark, and if she knew anything about Michael, there wasn’t a single light on in the entire house. The moon was gracious enough to illuminate the space as best it could with its wan light. She spotted the thin hospital gown in a heap in the middle of the floor. It looked just as lost and out of place as she felt.

Calliope sat and stared at the article of clothing unblinkingly. She didn’t know what to do. Michael was surely somewhere in the house. He killed enough people at the hospital to have sated his bloodlust for at least a couple weeks. She did not even bother to try to imagine just what he might be doing. For all she knew, he was waiting for her to try to run, and when she did he would burst from a shadow and stab her until she was nothing but pâté smeared across the hardwood floor. 

She sat there at the edge of her bed for an agonizing stretch of time. Her fraught nerves felt like they were dragged over hot coals with every heartbeat. Would he seek her out if she took too long? Maybe he thought she was still passed out and would leave her be, but she doubted she would be so lucky. 

She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself before casting about the room for something to wear. There was clean clothing in a nearby hamper that she had told herself she would fold once she returned home for the day. Surely there was something in there she could throw on.

She stood, intending to head towards the promise of clothing, but as she did she spotted a shape in the shadows. She did not even have the presence of mind to make an attempt at withholding her startled gasp. Michael had been there the whole time. He had watched her sleep, had no doubt watched her war internally with her current reality and the weight of what she had done.

He stalked towards her unhurriedly, but she felt as though she was being circled by sharks. Calliope wanted to stay where she was, to face him and consequently her destiny with all the bravery she could muster. Unfortunately, that wasn’t much.

She stumbled backwards until her thighs hit the edge of the mattress and she tumbled onto her back. She scooted backwards until she could press herself against the headboard and curl her legs into her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, realizing just how raw her throat was.

She wasn’t sure what exactly she was apologizing for, and she also knew that words had never swayed Michael in the past, but desperation was kicking in and she was at the end of her rope.

He never faltered in his approach. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him when he finally reached her bedside. He didn’t make a move after that. He simply stood there, holding her gaze with a face full of pure indifference. There was none of the intensity she had felt from him in that cursed stairwell at the hospital. Gone too was the frigid emptiness when he had choked her. Now he just seemed… bored. She couldn’t parse what it could mean, and that fact scared her all the more.

He raised his hands, and for a breath she was certain he would choke her again, but instead he took hold of the edge of his mask. She watched as he peeled away his facade, revealing his all too familiar monstrously angelic features. Calliope was astonished every time she saw his face. He was perfect. Even the angry scar that had slashed through the left side of his face could not detract from his beauty. Had she not known what he was capable of, she would have been wholly unsurprised to see him in the pages of a magazine, modelling expensive clothes and perfumes. She had always wanted to kiss the soft bow of his unfairly cherubic lips, but knew that he would never allow such an act of intimacy.

There was the sound of rubber slapping against polished wood as the mask made contact with the floor. 

Her breath caught as he made eye contact with her, holding her gaze until he bent forward, took hold of her ankles, and dragged her to the edge of the bed. His fingers dug into her thighs, squeezing the flesh with a pressure that bordered on bruising. He spread them with a painful slowness, and for the first time that night, Calliope felt a modicum of relief.

He still wanted her. She was still useful to him. She was safe. Or as safe as she could be.

Michael released one of her legs, using the hand to drag his fingertips over her inner thigh in a mockery of a gentle caress. His hands were calloused, their roughness standing in direct contrast to the softness of her more intimate areas. He paused, fingers mere centimeters from her bared sex. 

She knew what he was doing. He was observing her. He probably wanted her to squirm. Begging him to touch her would do nothing, but he wanted to see her body weak with need. 

Calliope stared at the ceiling. Even in the lowlight she could pick out the water-damage stains from when the roof had leaked last fall. Her life had been simpler then, when leaky roofs were the greatest of her concerns.

She sucked in a gasp between gritted teeth as he parted her folds and brushed his thumb over her clit. She was sure that at any moment he would pinch it, or bite her thigh, or do something else to cause her pain. She braced for what she was certain would come, but was left on pins and needles as Michael merely continued his exploration of her lower body.

Calliope’s eyes went wide as he slowly pressed a finger inside of her. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way Michael was being generous. He curled the finger experimentally and she choked down a moan. He repeated the motion and the wanton sound escaped her freely.

She could feel his eyes on her. She knew Michael was observing her closely as he pulled her pleasure out of her in increments. He wasn’t driving into her punishingly, but rather acting like a real lover might. 

Enlightenment came to her like a speeding bullet.

This wasn’t punishment, this was a reward. He was pleased with her cooperation. She had allowed him to kill the nurse, and had only heightened the woman’s fear by offering her a glimmer of hope. She had made the game more fun for him with her inadvertent intervention.

Despite guilt insistently rearing its ugly head, she wanted to sigh in relief. But she didn’t dare. Just because he was pleased with her cooperation didn’t mean he wouldn’t shift to torturing her at the drop of a hat. Her life with Michael was a roller coaster and it was all she could do to strap in and hold on for dear life.

Michael pressed his thumb to her clit again, causing her hips to buck of their own volition. He used one hand to pin her pelvis to the bed and continued his ministrations. All of her nerves felt as though they were alight with electricity. She was unbearably wet, and his finger inside of her needy cunt felt like heaven. Long forgotten was the soreness in her body or the throbbing of her head. Calliope pushed aside her lingering nausea over her sins and culpability, and gave herself wholly to the once-in-a-lifetime feeling of Michael giving instead of taking.

Cautiously, she opened her legs wider, granting him easier access to her more intimate areas. He didn’t react at first, but then inserted a second digit to join the first. He curled his fingers inside of her, brushing against something that ignited fireworks behind her eyes. She bit down on her lower lip with such force that she was sure she would taste blood.

The feeling was overpowering, and made all the more intense by the knowledge that it was Michael doing it to her. She was alight and aflame, but she was happy to burn so long as she could prolong the moment. 

He knew he could be her undoing, and he was all too unhurried in winding her up more and more until she would break. Calliope allowed herself to vocalize her pleasure, praying in the back of her mind that he wouldn’t stop, that he would let her ride it out to completion. 

His thumb circled her clit in torturous circles and she arched into his touch. She was so close. So, so close. And she was certain that she would lose her mind if he stopped now. She imagined what it would be like if he replaced his hands with his mouth. She imagined those perfect lips on her cunt, imagined the feeling of his tongue. She could picture him looking up at her with a different kind of intensity. It was enough to finally push her over the edge into her climax.

Sparks continued to dance up and down her weak limbs even as she collapsed onto her comforter in an exhausted, sweaty mess. She closed her eyes and tried to bask in the afterglow, pushing away guilt and fear. She tried to simply be happy for a few minutes.

Michael pulled his hands from her sex, and she heard the rustling of fabric as he stood up straight. She could smell the copper of blood that still stained his clothes beneath the heady scent of sex. She pushed that away too, floating desperately in the remnants of bliss.

Distantly, she heard the sound of a zipper, and she knew that her reward was over. She was back to being a thing for him to use, and she was okay with that. It meant she was alive, and it meant that she would still be alive come the morning.

[whatsyourcolor]

The Past Recaptured

I wrote a fic set following Kogami’s return to Japan and before Akane goes to jail. I just couldn’t conceive of them not meeting before she’s imprisoned. I didn’t have time or patience to have a beta read it, so please, if something is weird or wrong, could you let me know? Also, this has smut. 

Read in AO3 Here

The Past Recaptured. Chapter 1: Akane. 

There must have been no break of continuity, not a moment of rest for me, no cessation of existence, of thought, of consciousness of myself, since this distant moment still clung to me and I could recapture it, go back to it, merely by descending more deeply within myself. Marcel Proust - The Past Recaptured.

Akane studied the profile of the woman at the wheel, conjuring up Saiga’s edicts on the subject of kinesics, a scrutiny the other woman seemed more than prepared to deflect if her trained face was anything to go by. She had been asked to be trusted for one day and one day only. No trace of a grimace or a smile on her lips, behind her sunglasses Hanashiro Frederica seemed impenetrable, and still, there was a tension between them that Akane couldn’t contest.

She turned her gaze towards the robust foliage on her side, catching in the green rush a fleeting glance of her own face on the window. In her expression a disquiet not internally registered. Was she nervous? Was this instinct? It had been there before, hadn’t it? When a dominator led her to Sibyl’s secret. The question she had ruminated on so many times came to mind, would it have been better not to know? To not carry the burden of knowing, the unyielding weight of that truth, and the torrent of guilt that came with it? She was the protector of a secret unworthy of keeping, and it had festered inside her, corrupted her.

“We are close by.” Hanashiro’s voice was always courteous, if a little aloof. She was imposingly beautiful—a presence that would hardly go unnoticed anywhere. Akane nodded. They had been on the road for a good three hours now.

There was another truth in the answer to that question: she would always prefer to know, always, if only because it meant she could try to protect the people she still had. It wouldn’t do to fight blinded with an unknown enemy, to be trifled with by the system like a plaything, and if truth would make her a traitor to everything and everyone, she would have to carry that too one day.

The car took a turn down a narrow, unpaved road. Tips of branches pattered at her window. The road led to a large, one-story house hemmed-in by trees. Hanashiro parked the car in front, but did not turn off the engine.

Akane looked at her in a mingle of uncertainty and suspicion. “You’re not going in?”

“I don’t need to be there.”

Akane stared back at the house. So this was the way the system had decided to take her out. Dappled sunlight poured through the large windows inside, no one visible from her vantage. “What is this? Why did you bring me here?”

“You’re a mere steps away from finding your answer. Believe me, if it were up to me I would’ve saved us all the trouble of this nonsense.” Hanashiro brought a gloved hand to her face and pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “I suppose even someone like me can respect some measure of sentimentality.”

“Sentimentality?” Akane did not know why her heart was beating so fast. Hanashiro did not answer, and both knew it was because she had already said too much. She was waiting for her to get off the car, Akane realized. “I don’t even have my dominator with me.”

Hanashiro turned to look at her, and it wasn’t clear if she was glaring through her sunglasses. “Good. If you had it, you might be tempted to use it.”

Akane opened the door of the car and descended. Warm spring breeze touched her face and the smooth rumor of leaves soared high above her. The forest seemed to have been encroaching on the house, gradually reclaiming its rightful territory. Akane closed the car door and heard the tires on the gravel drive back up, turn around and drive farther and farther away from her. She glanced over her shoulder to watch the car leave. She could not tell if Hanashiro looked back at her in the mirror.

Is this some type of joke? How am I even supposed to get back?

Before realizing it, she was climbing the steps leading to the door. She reached out to touch the handle, tree shadows dancing on the pale skin of her wrist. With a sharp breath of resolve, she turned it and gave the door a push.

“Hello?” She shaded her eyes. The heat of the day was warm on the black of her blazer.

Silence. At her second, louder call, quick movement followed somewhere in the interior of the house—the hurried padding of bare feet on a wooden floor. Her own backpedaling feet halted dead on their tracks by the figure emerging at the back of the vestibule. A figure she’d recognize anywhere. If this was another of Sibyl’s games, it could surely be ranked amongst its cruelest.

She watched him, wary and incredulous, as he stepped onto the distorted rectangle the open door had cut on the floor. The vertical glow of that stripe of light crawling up along his body, until his bright, glaucous gaze was squinting back at her, discerning her. Softening upon recognizing her.

“Kogami-san,” she muttered in an expiration, and the mere act of saying it made it palpably and terribly real. “What—” She swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s been a while, Inspector. I didn’t know if you would come.”

His mouth softened into a smirk, and Akane realized she was still standing on the threshold, shock and ambivalence manifested plainly in her body. Stepping into the genkan, she proceeded to remove her shoes in tense silence before following him through a maze of vacant rooms and wooden hallways. Bare cream walls, no furniture—nothing offered a clue as to what this place was or what she, he, was doing here.

They reached the back of the house and entered a large sitting room with a small kitchen area, its ceiling-to-floor windows framing the twisted limbs of beautiful, lush maple trees and the moss-blanketed rocks of what had once been a traditional Japanese garden. In a corner, a small stack of paper books crowned with an ashtray stood next to a rolled-up futon.

Akane ensconced herself on a tall stool around a counter island in the kitchen. Standing across from her uniformed self, casually attired in jeans and a black shirt, Kogami resembled a civilian about to be interviewed for an investigation. It felt like a million years had passed since SEAUn.

“I didn’t want to shock you,” he said.

“Shock me?”

“We’re likely to run into each other now, and I didn’t want you to—”

“So you’re working for Foreign Affairs now,” Akane established, realizing with a jolt that it sounded like a judgement. “I mean…that’s great. It’s really great.”

“She’s persuasive.”

Akane shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “I know. She tried to recruit an enforcer from my division, although unsuccessfully...that time.”

“She did mention that,” he replied with a voice low, warm and confiding, and Akane felt a reflex rejection of that enforced trifold complicity. “She praised your division, said it had something special.”

Akane looked at him straight in the eye. His ever imperturbable gaze wandered over her face, attempting to read her thoughts too. It hit her that, when it came to him, she’d never be as good as Saiga-san…or Hanashiro-san. She was the one to lower her eyes first. “How did she even find you?”

“I suppose the same way you found me last time.”

“Except she was able to bring you back,” Akane murmured tonelessly. The white tiles of the kitchen floor looked impeccably clean.

He fell silent, and she repented of those words. It cheapened everything. Akane looked up, and made herself smile widely, sincerely. “I’m glad to see you’re fine.”

His hands were busy lighting a Spinel cigarette. The old, relished fragrance came to her in volutes from his lips, raising upwards. His weather-beaten hands, molded to the trigger of guns or hardened into punching fists, betrayed in smoking an elegance he’d never been able to rid himself of.

“Many times I thought that was for the best. A real goodbye. A clean cut.”

“You’re home now, Kogami-san,” Akane reminded him warmly. “No more regrets. You have a second chance here.” She was working a way around the sharpness of his eyes, veiled behind the smoke as she sat there, unarmed. “Ginoza-san will be happy to know you’re here.”

It worked. His back was leaning against the counter in front of her. His hand suspended in midmovement, and this time it was him who averted his eyes. “Who knows.”

“I know.” Akane smiled confidently. “If only you two weren’t so stubborn. I’m sure when you talk—”

“And you? Are you happy to know I’m here?” Kogami caught her eyes again; probing, interrogating.

Akane hesitated. The last she’d seen of him had been amidst crossfire in a place remote, both reeling in the aftermath of a brush with certain death. They had never said goodbye, it was true. But he was alive—she’d made sure of that when she sent Ginoza-san to hunt him. He was alive, she remembered thinking then, and she could finally let him go.

“Of course I am,” Akane said softly, keeping the quaver from her voice.

“You can barely look at me.”

“I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“You also thought that was goodbye.” Kogami ambled over and took the seat on the counter next to her, their arms so close to brushing Akane felt her body tense up. “Didn’t you?”

“Not…like that, no. I was always certain you’d find a way to survive.” I was sure that when I met you again, you would’ve found the peace you were looking for.

The cigarette consumed idly in his hand as he watched her. Akane didn’t know if she was disputing his previous accusation or reaffirming herself instead, but she held his gaze steadily. The white thin line of a scar crossed his temple. A more recent one divulged a death-dealing intent, marring the side of his neck. He huffed softly. “You did always think like that.”

“Would it had been better if I thought another way?” Her voice came laced with a bitterness she didn’t recognize. “Would that have made things easier? Sometimes I wonder about that.”

“Back in SEAUn,” Kogami took a last drag before crumpling the smoldering stub in his fist. “You said I wasn’t like Makishima. Even when I was tempted and had reason to, even when others welcomed it or demanded it. It sure would’ve made living a hell of a lot easier.” He frowned, his eyes set in some point in the past, she figured. “And yet, those words may have been the only thing keeping me from going completely insane all this time, even if I’d lost my way.”

Her hands twitched at the faith permeating his voice, and her own invisible scars burned like a thousand fresh cuts. Pushing forward, changing the future, that should’ve been enough for her. Why, then, did she keep turning her head to look at the past, over and over again?  

He sighed nonchalantly. “I guess I don’t have any right to say this, since your belief was so convenient to me in the first place, but I never thought the easy way out suited your style. After all,” the corners of his lips quirked up, “you’re a tough and not-very-nice woman.”

Akane huffed with amusement. “I’ll make sure to work on being nicer, then.”

“Don’t.” His voice was stern, peremptory. “I told you. Yours is the right way of thinking. I’d even go as far as saying that it might be your sole fault I’m here at all.”

“I don’t know about that, Kogami-san. But, if I’m ever found guilty, then that’ll be the one fault I can be proud of.” She put two fingers to her brow, and saluted ceremoniously.

The diaphanous, gorgeous sound of laughter took her unawares. It was brief and overtaking, like lighting, going as it came. The remaining shock being that, hard as she tried, she could not recall ever seeing him laugh before. She tore her gaze away in time, tasting a mounting, disconcerting something that resembled shame, and weakness, and panic. By then her cheeks were incriminatingly flushed.

“I doubt you’d have too many faults,” he said heartily. “This one certainly might be your worst one yet.”

With nervous, wandering eyes, she found herself wanting for an object to remark on. “What’s this place, anyway?” It annoyed her how forced she sounded. “It’s so far away from the city.”

“Just a temporary residence while all my paperwork comes through. Hanashiro-san thought it necessary. For my protection.”

“Protection.” She held her breath, grasping at the culmination of that thought. Her eyes whipped back to him. “From the MWPSB.”

“Don’t look like that, Inspector,” he chided coolly. “Ministries and bureaucrats have their own arcane ways of bending the rules they so inexorably impose on everyone else. It’s how they hold their power. I’ll be okay.”

“And you trust Hanashiro-san that much?” demanded Akane, her voice thick with urgency. I should’ve—I should’ve studied her better. Does she also know of Sibyl’s secret? Is that why she’s negotiating the life of a man whose execution order is still active? The one who murdered Makishima? Or…is she a pursuer, doing Sibyl’s dirty work, luring outliers to where the system can promptly eliminate them before they gain any influence against Sibyl?

“Oi, Inspector.” At the firm grasp on her shoulder, the rush of tumultuous thoughts dissipated at once, and when he fixed her with those serious, slate eyes, the wild thrumming of her heart did not subside, but it’s crazy rhythm was definitely for something else. How was she still under his sway like this? “I’m here. I’ll be fine. If the system wanted to kill me it would’ve done so already.”

Akane bit the inside of her lip wanting for it to be true. Truth, it turned out, rarely agreed with her desires. But she wasn’t one keen on illusions. Not anymore. Sibyl knew Kogami Shinya was in Japan, and it had let him live for a reason. A leverage too advantageous to forgo. A leverage she wasn’t privy to. Not yet. That was the evident deduction, and it revolted her to the core to know Sibyl this well, to admit that the pivotal relationship of her life was the one she had to that.

Logically, reasonably, the enigma around that sudden leniency should’ve been the main priority occupying her mind. Instead, an overriding, merciless impulse had been beating inside her from the moment he touched her. She would’ve called it madness any other day, when her trembling hands rose to touch the one grasping her shoulder. Kogami winced, just perceptively, but didn’t retreat. He waited as her fingers trailed over the sinuous angles of his knuckles, the warm skin, the long bones. She closed her eyes, and let herself feel.

“Afraid I might be a holo…or a ghost?”

His voice betrayed nothing, as usual, but Akane didn’t have to guess. Would a ghost’s pulse race like this? It seeped into her mind, the private ritual where lighting cigarettes in the solitude of her room became an invocation. Would a ghost tense like this? Would his hand be clammy like this?

Her eyes opened slowly, as if from a dream, finding focus on his gentle, perplexed expression. Akane released his hand as if it were a scalding ember. “It’s not funny.”

He wasn’t smiling. His outstretched hand lingered there for a second before he slowly withdrew his arm. “You worry too much, Inspector.”

“What if the system rejects her request?” she asked sharply. Something about touching him emboldened her to claim the right to reproach. “Did that thought ever cross your mind?”

He gave a low, frustrated sigh, like he’d been expecting the reprove all along. “Then so be it.”

“Why wasn’t this arranged beforehand? At least outside of Japan…” He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what Sibyl is capable of, even if he’d suspected it.

“I suppose this is the type of procedure where you need the subject in the flesh.”

“In the flesh?” Akane could hear her own voice raising. “Don’t you know there’s an execution order for you?”

“I’m aware of it.”

“Then…why?” she grunted. “Why would you come back here?”

No offhand reply from him this time, but a shadow passing over his stunned face—something like dejection, like feeling repudiated—before he turned away from her. His eyes seemed now to be boring holes into the groves beyond the window glass. Her lips parted wordlessly, floundering to articulate something sensible out of the flurry of emotions he’d set off.

“Kogami-san.” Akane softened her quivering voice, and he recoiled at the sound. “Please, don’t misund—”

“Correct me if I’m wrong.” He refused to look at her. “But wasn’t it you who wanted to arrest me when we last saw each other? How exactly would you have stopped my execution then if that’s your concern now?”

A stirring chill ran through Akane at her carelessness.

“Unless…” He turned again to watch her coldly, to read her eyes for truth. “Unless you knew a workaround, a way to get the system to make an exception. Not the proverbial honorary concession. Not immunity for someone with noble contributions to society. No. You wanted absolution for a murderer and a terrorist.”

Akane felt something in her chest clamp down, like she was running out of breath. “At the time I was conducting an investig—”

“Fine. Then let’s take you at your word, or at Sibyl’s. You knew I’d be executed, yet you wanted to arrest me. Was that your plan all along, Tsunemori? It’s not like you.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she snapped defensively, sensing he was circumvolving around a much more personal and damaging secret.

“It mattered a year ago. Has so much changed in a year?”

Akane glared straight into his eyes, the blue-gray forest swaying in them. “It has.”

“It hasn’t. I’ll show you.”

He made a quick lunge at her and Akane lifted her fists to deflect or hit by ingrained, muscle-memory reaction. An underhanded, dirty attack to wrap his arms tightly around her, trapping her against him. She heard her own shuddering breath fall on his shoulder, threatening to become a whimper, for his body—hot-blooded, physical, fully present—was a rousing bolt, thawing something deeply buried in her. All thought escaped her as he squeezed her tighter. “See?” he whispered close to her ear, luring Akane to clench her eyes shut. “It’s only me. I’m not a stranger, Tsunemori.”

The words were pronounced in anger, but if he was making a point of punishing her, it was taking too long to be credible anymore. So she sank in it freely, let herself be drowned in it. Like swirls of smoke, hurt and doubt left her, replaced by sensation—like in the refracted light all the invisible threads that united her to him glinted furiously, cobwebs she thought pulverized, glowing anew like silver strands piercing through them both. Slowly, wanting, her arms looped under his, about his back and over his shoulders. She held him like that for who knows how long, suspecting he needed it too.

Once submerged and taken, the wave of impulse grew ruthless and commanding—not that it would show on the surface. Not at least until her lips brushed the scar on his neck with such deliberate intent, that Akane felt him stiffen under her arms, and the shock of her kiss travel the length of his body. Dreamed she could taste on his skin the dust of the roads he’d traveled, miles away to come to her, taste life on his skin, because, yes, he was alive and—as absurd as the assertion was—so was she, and that was all that mattered. So when his tremulous lips found hers, it felt like she was the one arriving home, something so primal and vital being forged in the interior of his kiss, that it astounded her how long she’d gone without it.

It was a language. One that became more fluid and effortless the further they went, an ebb and flow as his tongue taunted hers, and their mouths grappled breathlessly and desperately for a contact from so long deprived. His hands were slow up and down her flanks, slipping under her blazer while hers ran along the tautness of his arms, sank in his soft hair, down to his jaw and throat. Akane’s fingers met a button by the collar of his shirt and unfastened it hastily, then another one, before Kogami seized her wrists and broke away. Her eyes snapped open.

“Akane.” Redness about his lips. The mere utterance of her name an objection. Those sharp eyes…torn between terror and desire. “You have to tell me that this is okay. That…”

He was breathing fast, his shoulders heaving, and she was already twisting from his grasp in protest. Kogami let her go with hardly any resistance, and Akane flung her arms around his neck, pressing against him with more strength than needed; his arms already compliant, already surrounding her again, her whole body snug in the space between his legs. “Yes, yes,” she murmured. “This is good.”

He planted a kiss on her neck, and half picked her up as he stood. Lips falling again on hers, pliant on hers, letting her taste him again as he steered her towards the other end of the room. Clothes flew around them, and a small tower of books crowned with an ashtray was unwittingly knocked down.

Akane pressed her nose on his bare chest, drawing in the scent of soap and tobacco, before her mouth—her mouth, still a neophyte and stranger to this language—parted on his skin to kiss and lick with the conviction of a devotee, guided by his gasps of pleasure and relief. She never knew what giving this pleasure to another was, and she was finding out—as his mouth bit on her shoulder, as his hands grew painfully frustrated with her skirt and tights—that not the most vivid fantasy could ever pay justice to the heady sensation of him.

They hit the futon as if shipwrecked by breakers: gasping, naked, and amazed. She threw her head back on the soft cotton with a quivering gasp at the trail of ravages his mouth was leaving on her neck, her breasts, her waist. Come, she imagined she begged. As if he’d read her mind, he crawled over her, and his desire—vehement, all-embracing of her body, of her—suspended above Akane, patent in his darkened pupils. She took his jaw and pulled him down for a kiss, her nude body awash with heat and ruddiness under the weight and strength of his. They were drowning. His hips trapped between her thighs, her still marveled hands groping for him, speaking, coaxing him out of any last doubt.

Kogami sank in her slowly, and for a strange, novel minute Akane felt pain. His panting was hot on the crook of her neck when she whimpered, and a second later he was biting her chin, tempering that other pain, befogging it. Eager, sweet sounds arose from her throat, spurring him to roll his hips over and over until Akane found herself undulating against him like a thousand waves, matching him in cadence, swimming with him. Rapt and out of her mind, Akane thought she never wanted to forget what his sex felt like in her, what pleasured grunts and moans sounded like in Kogami Shinya’s velvet voice. He rose slightly to slip a hand down her body, coupling the deepest of all caresses with the touch of his fingers, and Akane moaned freely at his mercy and command. That place to which he was taking her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, she could feel herself arriving there, digging her nails on his lower back and crying out as a blinding rush of pleasure swept over her. Still quivering when his mouth met hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, pulling him down like gravity towards her. Rough, reckless collisions as they went and, upon hearing his voice break on her name while he caught up to her, Akane tightened up a second time where she enveloped him. Kogami jerked and succumbed with a groan, his whole body palpitant and gleaming with sweat, and he never looked more human and more divine.

Lazily, he nestled his head on the curve of her neck. Akane stroked his hair gently while contemplating the easy sway of leaves against the blue sky outside. The glimmer of the sinking sun radiated intermittently through them. It was a beautiful sight. His hand began tracing the contours of her hip bone, demanding her attention again. She looked down the length of their bodies, speckled with shadows of leaves, their legs half-entangled like tree roots.

“Have you spoken to your mother?” she asked softly, stocktaking the mess they had made across the room, an improbable clutter of books and clothes scattered on the floor.

He burrowed his face further down her neck and shoulder. “Last night.”

“How did that go?”

He didn’t answer right away, and Akane placed her much smaller hand over his, flattening it on her navel. “We cried…a lot.”

“She must’ve been so happy. She missed you so much. We all missed you so much.”

He stayed very still and silent for a moment as if struck with sudden bafflement, and then: “Just wait until I tell her about this.”

“What?” Akane squealed with infinite embarrassment. “Don’t you dare!”

He was laughing again and kissing her shoulder between laughs. “Okay, I won’t, I won’t.”

Akane mock-smacked his hand before laying hers softly over it again. She realized she was terrified. For him. For them. She pushed those thoughts aside as he held her closer and she spoke the truest words she could muster at the moment.

“Welcome home, Kogami Shinya.”

“Glad to be home.”

[deanofwhumpuniversity]

Aurora Australis: Part 1

The beginning of Argos’ captivity

Content Warning: Mental/emotional whump, body horror/dismantling of a robot, mental confusion, diss@sociation, dehumanizing language (toward a non-human person, but still. Slightly creepy/intimate whumper, non-consensual touch, careless whumper, android whumpee. Tell me if I missed anything that I should warn for.

@whumpthisway and @redstainedsocks had a prompt that sorta falls into this, not exactly, maybe it’ll be up your alley anyway?

...

Rustle. Shuffle. Click-scrape. Peel-pop. Rustlerustlerustle

Awareness began to filter back in through the dark, sluggish in a way that was new and worrying. Argos knew he knew the sounds around him, but his mind refused to form them into a useful narrative, instead following each audible oddity like a cat after a laser. So he tried to focus on something other than sound, and realized he was being jostled; almost passively, as if the pressure on his arm was incidental and the goal had naught to do with him at all.

How had he gotten here? Where was here anyway? Why had he been powered down in the first place? He tried to access his info banks from just before the shutdown, but the most immediate data seemed corrupted. Argos began to rewind his sense memory; jolts of static pushed back against his consciousness, forcing him out of the playback again and again. Every burst of fuzziness muddied his thoughts and threatened to make him forget what he was attempting. He rerouted his processes, drawing his senses away from the manhandling of his frame and the white noise surrounding him, to focus on pushing through his damaged memory. Static with no ears to grate on or eyes to confuse, static that still rubbed his senses raw like nails on the chalkboard of his mind, and finally, finally, heavily distorted sensory input began to play back. He tried to place what he was seeing. Did he recall...trees? Was that a person?

“There we are!” 

A peeling-tearing noise and an exclamation shook Argos from his search, expanding his senses back into his body, and the first thing he fully processed was that he did not know that voice. He began to boot up his eyes, wondering how addled his brain must be that he hadn’t thought to do so before. But in the same moment he knew that once he did, this unknown human would be able to tell he was awake. My visual display wasn’t designed for stealth. What a strange thought to have...

But as his faceplate lit up with scrolling green glyphs, the woman who came into focus wasn’t paying any attention to his expression, instead peering intently through a mounted magnifying glass, tinkering around in a bit of armor he recognized had once been plating his lower arm. It was familiar to him, a piece of him but no longer part of him. He searched his sensory map and found his arm. It was still his, still there. Seemed...in working order, but he didn’t try to move it. Not yet. The plate the human handled reverently was discolored on the outside, warped even. He was sure he knew what burn damage looked like, though he’d never seen it on himself before. This human must be here to fix him. 

“Lim, come look at this!” 

Someone approached from Argos’ other side. Left, his mind unhelpfully supplied. North? Upon realizing that he wasn’t sure, he began to cast about in his software again. Compass, magnetic direction, this should be ingrained, shouldn’t it? He’d always known where he was. Hadn’t he? He was even more concerned to realize that he simply didn’t remember whether or not he’d ever felt this lost before. He hoped not. He didn’t like it.

That train of thought came to a halt as the new figure came into focus. That one, he knew that one. How did he know that one? His visual field widened ever so slightly, and he saw he was in an open tent, flaps pinned back and sunlight streaming in. There were more tents, distant figures, and trees beyond.  He felt an odd sense of familiarity, a technological deja-vu that meant somewhere in his visual databanks lay an image that would match up with this clearing. All he had to do was go through every moment, frame by frame, until he found it, and he would know where he was and hopefully, how he had gotten here.

But the new figure, the Lim human he presumed, was speaking, and for some reason Argos was so distracted with watching his movements that he barely caught the exchange. “-- be awake like this?” He was standing over Argos now, looking directly at his face, blue-grey eyes flicking back and forth slightly like he was trying to read the streams of vertical light that played across it. Argos found that thought strangely...endearing? That was new. He willed himself to display a disarming smile in the flickering lights for a moment, but the man simply furrowed his brow further.

The other human, the mechanic, started at this question and pushed the magnifying glass aside. She blinked up at Argos’ display as her eyes refocused, as though she was just now remembering the bit of armor she’d been examining had come from a whole body. Her momentary confusion was instantly replaced with a beaming smile, and instead of answering, she leaned in close to Argos’ faceplate. “Well look at you, all shiny and green! How long have you been up and running?” She was so close her eyes nearly crossed to watch the symbols of his display, and he had to consciously keep the data stream from speeding up along with his racing thoughts.

Personal space. Humans expect a meter of personal space from unknown persons, +.1 meter for every centimeter in height you have over them. Argos heard this admonishment in a lightly accented voice that he knew intrinsically, knew better than his own titanium bones, emanating from nowhere but simply existing in his mind, deeper than his hazy recent memory, too deep to be lost from data corruption or structural damage or whatever had happened to bring him to this circumstance.

He tried to shift back against the table, but he was already as flat as was possible, in a slumped and inhuman posture, apparently having been dead weight when he’d been laid down. He cringed internally, and realized he’d allowed the feeling to play across his face for just a moment before he schooled himself. The mechanic either didn’t notice the change, or didn’t understand it, and continued eyeing him with somewhat manic glee. He hoped if he answered her question perhaps she would move back to her stool.

“I…” He began to speak and both humans leaned back. The woman’s face was even more excited than before, somehow. But the man’s expression was one of...distaste? This worried Argos, though he wasn’t sure entirely why. He started again, “I don’t know. I don’t know what time it is...what day it is. My internal clock seems to have desynced.” 

He was becoming more lucid by the moment, he knew that he was deeply damaged, both in hardware and in soft, but he had all the means at his disposal to get his bearings and make repairs. He cast about for a wireless signal, something he could use to sync with, to triangulate the time and place, and found a likely beacon on the periphery of his senses. He sent a signal to it, attempting to pair, but a sharp white jolt poured back into him. Not information, not data, but the absolute absence of it, a molten wipe that erased his request and cauterized his ability to send again. The readout on his faceplate devolved into static as his thoughts were overloaded and wiped clear of anything but pain, and his body arched in fits off the table as nonsense commands were sent to his synthetic muscles. He couldn’t remember words, or language, and he didn’t mean to try to speak, but a series of distressed metallic trills came from the speakers at the base of his throat.

It may have been a moment, or an hour, and he felt feverish as coolant rushed to prevent his processors from overheating. Even if he’d been able to trust his own internal clock, he couldn’t focus on anything but a litany of stop stop make it stop. He’d disconnected from the wireless beacon almost immediately but the feedback ran its course through his frame, down his arms and legs then doubling back to smolder in his core. Finally, gradually Argos felt his thoughts falling back into order, almost like waking from a reboot but not quite so drowsy, and not nearly so refreshing. Aftershocks of blank, dataless pain danced about his systems, and he felt his fingers twitching without his control. When he was able to focus his optics again, he saw the mechanic’s smile had become less childlike, more wolfish. 

“That’ll be the wireless jammer, sorry I didn’t warn you, but we haven’t exactly had a chance to speak, have we?” She reached up, resting her hand just above the reflective plate that served Argos as a face, as though cupping his cheek from an inch away. He imagined he could still feel her touch, fingerprints on the glass, sinking through to tangle in the circuits underneath. He couldn’t help the jerking shudder at the thought, but felt some morbid relief that she would see it as another spasm of lingering pain. “I have it under control, thanks.” Her eyes didn’t move, though it was clear she wasn’t speaking to him.

“We should still restrain it. Physically.” Lim was still there, husky voice so neutral as to sound almost bored. This troubled Argos before he even had time to process the human’s words. “At least until you have it disassembled.”

[pastelgoogie97]

I’m Here Now ||jjk

Here’s something I wrote because I go to Jungkook for comfort a LOT and I needed him most today. Thank you all for showing so much love on my other fics and remember that you can send in an Ask of what you would like for me to write! I hope you all enjoy, and again, thank you for everything!

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader

Warnings: Reader had a horrible day and basically a horrible year so Jungkook is here to cheer them up. Mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, depression, and skipping meals (please stay healthy lovelies!!!! don’t forget to eat something, even if it’s small!) and foul language if you squint.

Word Count: 2.7k

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The human brain is by far one of the most mind-boggling phenomena to have touched the Earth. From how they function and send signals to your body, to the way they make you feel when someone extra attractive gives you a second glance. A brain is one of the most important parts of a body and it was by far one of the most powerful ones as well.

Right now, Y/N despised it.

The second she shut her door behind her quivering body, she slid down the wood. Her purse hit the floor at the same time as her limp arms and her legs sprawled out in front of her miserably. Tears were pouring from her crimson-threaded eyes, her cheeks were flushed with a pink tint and her bottom lip was trembling not from the cold outside, but from the coldness of everyone’s hearts.

2020 was by far the shittiest year of her life and she just wanted to get through to see 2021, but each passing day was making that wish harder and harder to achieve. Not only had she lost family members close to her, but she’d also found that her anxiety and depression were at their peak, her entire personality had changed without her noticing until it was too late, and she’d even skipped meals throughout the day because she found herself too emotionally drained to get up and use the restroom.

“Jagiya,” A voice from her bedroom called out into the empty hallway. “Is that you?”

Y/N stood up from her spot on the floor. Abandoning her purse and mask on the floor in front of the door, she found herself following the sound of the voice coming from beyond her dark hall. She walked into her bedroom to see the love of her life sitting up straight in her bed, the low sound of her T.V playing the soundtrack for what sounded like a video game. 

“You’re home!” Jungkook smiled widely. “How was your day today?”

The look Y/N sent him was enough to write a five-page essay as to why her day sucked complete and utter ass; just like all the ones before it. Jungkook frowned and scooted over on her bed, flipping the comforter up and tapping the empty spot next to him for her to sit. She sighed and looked down at her clothes she’d worn today.

“Let me shower first, then I’ll sit down,” 

He nodded silently and tossed her one last warm smile before she turned on her heel to walk into her bathroom. Once she rid herself of her clothing, she stepped into the warmth of the steamy chamber and stood under the water, letting it soak her hair completely before she even thought about washing it. Her eyes shut completely, her eyelashes falling against her cheeks as she allowed the warm droplets to cascade down her still shivering skin. She didn’t even know she was crying until she let out a soft sob.

She rubbed her nose and tried to shake the tears away. She grabbed hold of the shampoo bottle and shot some of the liquid into her palm and lathered it up. The fragrance was strawberries, Jungkook’s favorite by far. As she spread the bubbles into her hair, the events of her day and all of the horrible ones before crashed over her in waves, all of her emotions she’d bottled up and kept inside finally ripping out of her body.

Jungkook thought it would be best to let her shower and have her thoughts to herself. He knew that she hadn’t had the best year so far and he couldn’t help but feel horrible for her. He’d tried his hardest to help her and make sure that he could make her smile at least once throughout the day. He’d rid himself of the thought of leaving her to her devices the second he could hear her sobbing from her bedroom. He paused his game and pressed his ear up to the bathroom door, the sound of her misery flooding into his mind like a sour note in a song.

He knocked on the door to let her know he was coming in before opening it. The sight before him absolutely shattered him. She was sitting at the bottom of the shower, her hair covering her eyes and the sides of her face. The water was directly hitting her and her shoulders were shaking violently with each sob that fell from her lips. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook panicked, turning the water off and pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Come on honey, let’s go lie down,”

Y/N couldn’t even protest. No matter how much she wanted to, all the strength in her body had vanished and she found herself following behind Jungkook with a towel covering her bare body. He rummaged through her drawers and found one of his shirts for her to wear. He pulled her towel off and threw the black shirt over her small frame, lifting her hair out from the inside and standing behind her to dry it as best as he could. 

Once she was dressed, he escorted her over to her bed and helped her get comfortable. He crawled into bed with her and sat up with his back against the headboard. He lifted her crying figure into his lap and held her flush against his chest, pushing her head into the crook of his neck and rubbing her lower back pitifully. The actions were enough to worsen her crying and soon enough she found herself having trouble breathing.

“Breathe, Y/N,” He stated softly. “In for ten seconds and out for five. Can you do that for me?”

Y/N nodded violently and took a deep breath in, her breathing wavering from the intake of oxygen. He could hear the trembles of her breaths rumbling in the back of her throat and he knew that she was in a worse state than he thought. He decided to do the exercise with her, the two of them breathing in unison while he held her small hands in his.

“J-Jungkook, it hurts,” She sobbed, shutting her eyes tightly. Another stream of tears fell from her eyes. “C-Can you just hold me?”

He looked into her bloodshot eyes and could see the pain living behind them. Like her inner demons had regrouped behind her chocolate orbs to only make her see the worst in everything.

“I would love to,”

Y/N’s arms wrapped behind Jungkook’s neck while he snaked his around her middle. He pushed her against his chest and pressed a kiss to her forehead sweetly before having her rest in the crook of his neck once more. 

“I’m here now bunny,” his voice was like silk in her ears, not too overbearing, yet just clear enough to make his statement play over and over in her mind. “You’re gonna be okay, you can get through this,”

Her trembling had gone down a lot, but he could still feel her legs quiver and her breaths shake. It was a start. That’s all he needed.

“I love you so much, you know that right?” he queried. “And no matter what happens you can always come to me for anything,”

Y/N nodded against his warm neck, placing her slightly wet lips against the supple skin to let him know that she was paying attention to his words. He chuckled and she could feel the rumble against the side of his throat. 

The sound of her air conditioner filled the comfortable silence. She’d kept her eyes closed to bask in the feeling of his warmth and his undying love for her. It was never overwhelming, but it was a lot to handle sometimes and she couldn’t be more thankful and blessed to have it. His affection was hers, his smiles, his special looks, the galaxies in his eyes, his ‘I love you’s’. They were all hers.

The blanket was pulled over her body and she felt twice as warm. She sighed and opened her eyes to look at the twinkle in his dark orbs once more. But when her puffy eyes opened, she was met with a dark room. The T.V wasn’t on and her lover wasn’t in bed with her. Instead, her arms were wrapped around her pillow and the blanket seemed to be the only thing to be keeping her from freezing. She looked around her bedroom and quickly stood up.

Her house was almost as dark as the night outside. She turned on every single light to check for her lover, making sure that he hadn’t left the house. When she headed back into her room she noticed that her phone was still on. Maybe the messages between them were still open and he texted her to say that he’d stepped out to buy her favorite flavor of ice cream.

She crawled back into bed and got as comfortable as she could and looked at her screen. She had YouTube open. She flipped her phone vertically to look at what video she was watching, not remembering using her phone since Jungkook had comforted her.

In bold, white letters was the title of the video. Suddenly everything was clear to her and it triggered the tears to fall down harder than they had earlier. She clamped her hand over her mouth to try and muffle her sobs. 

She looked up at her ceiling, then back down at her phone to see that Jungkook never came to her house. He never took her out of the shower and dressed her to get into bed with him, he never asked what was wrong, never asked about her day. He never held her in his arms and said everything was gonna be okay so long as he was there.

Clips of BTS’ Jeon Jungkook for when you’re having a bad day

He had never told her that he loved her. He never said that he was going to be there for her had she needed anything. Jungkook wasn’t her lover, nor did he know who she was. She was still just an ordinary fan that happened to find comfort in him, an ordinary fan that seemed to have such a strong and passionate love for him that he’s never reciprocated to her in person. She was alone. Again.

“I love you too, Jungkook,”

[mx-ishikawa]

Pieces Of Us (2): Defend

Finally got the second installment of this series done! there's a little violence in this one but it's LEGO violence so it's not that bad XD" takes place in between the first and second movies~

           The Duplo wasn’t hard to miss. It was ginormous, with bright flashy colors covering its surface. But I wasn’t. I was carefully hidden among the buildings, watching its every move. It was terrorizing the people and destroying everything it decided it wanted to destroy. Jeez, this situation in Bricksburg was even worse than I thought. I mean, everybody was experiencing Duplo attacks, but the people of Bricksburg were hit by far the hardest, to the point where they had to adopt a whole new lifestyle centered around survival and constantly keeping the invaders at bay. But I had been training for this for over two years now.

           Ever since the first Duplo attack on Bricksburg, all I had wanted was to help fight off the invaders. If I couldn’t be a Master Builder, I felt I should at least contribute to the fight in some way or another. I had always struggled with finding my place in the world, and never felt like I fit in anywhere, so I felt that this would be my chance to finally make a name for myself. But since I was only sixteen at the time, I knew I had to finish school first. Thankfully, that gave me extra time to train and develop fighting skills. I did most of my weekend training in Gotham, since it seemed to be the only place out of all the realms that was devoid of Duplo attacks, and sometimes I was under the instruction of Batman himself. As a coach, Batman was strict and not very emotionally motivating, but he certainly knew his shit, so I was grateful to have him as a trainer. Also, he had a damn good taste in workout music.

           But I must admit that there was another reason I wanted to move to Bricksburg. And that reason’s name was Emmet Brickowski. I had already become fond of him in Cloud Cuckooland, but after getting separated from my dad during the raid and ending up alongside Emmet and Wyldstyle in the fight against Lord Business, I developed quite the crush on the heroic construction worker. I felt he was not all the negative things he initially described himself as; in fact, I found him much more brave, smart, skilled, and creative than he gave himself credit for. And even though he apparently lacked experience leading, I thought he was one of the best leaders I had ever seen in action. Never before had I seen someone corral a horde of Master Builders together the way he did. He had a strong voice, commanding but not cruel, and genuinely wanted to help. He had been torn from his old life and thrown into the ugly truth, adapted well, sacrificed himself and ended up gaining Master Builder abilities instead of dying, and saved the world—all without losing his kind-hearted character. And yet, he was completely humble about the whole thing, even saying that the prophecy was about everyone, not just himself. But what I admired most about him was his huge heart. Not once did he say anything bad about Lord Business, or anyone ever, and when the Duplos first came, he tried to make peace with them instead of jumping to fighting like everyone else wanted to do. It’s really no wonder why I fell for the guy. Though I didn’t really see him in the two years I trained, my heart still raced when I thought of him, and often wondered how he was doing. At the time, I thought it was just a silly schoolgirl crush, and that I’d surely wouldn’t feel much the next time I saw him. Boy how wrong I turned out to be…

           I quietly pulled my sword out from the holster on my back and began sneaking up on the Duplo. It was clearly more focused on thwarting the attacks from the citizens of Bricksburg. They were firing whatever they could at it—lasers, arrows, canons, you name it—but none of it affected the beast. If anything, it only became angrier. Though its anger was rather passive-aggressive: it giggled like a schoolgirl the more it was hit, but its body language made its true emotions clear. I scanned its back, looking for a weak spot I could target. Then I spotted a vertical crease in between the monster’s shoulders. Bingo.

           Being as swift as possible, I ran up to the Duplo, leaped into the air, and plunged my sword into the crease on the beast’s back. I heard a couple of cracking sounds as it screamed in agony, and it took all I had not to cover my ears and lose my grip. I held onto one of its shoulders, keeping the sword in place with my other hand, as the Duplo began spinning around in an effort to reach me. After a few rotations, it stopped as it realized that wasn’t working. I almost fell when it suddenly halted, but my reflexes luckily kicked in. Pulling my sword out, I kicked the alien monster right where I stabbed it, and down it went. My feet landed on top of it and I rose my sword to take a few whacks, but it swatted me away with one of its limbs. I heard a few gasps from the citizens as I flew backwards into a wall. I grunted in pain. That certainly wasn’t going to help my already existing back troubles. But I knew I couldn’t let the pain overtake me if I wanted to defeat this thing. So I lifted myself up and charged at it again, this time punching it square in the gut and bringing it down once more. It started to swing its limbs at me again, but it froze, likely in fear, as I held my sword directly to where its throat would’ve been if it had a noticeable neck. It whimpered like an upset child, and for a moment I almost felt sorry for the Duplo. But then I remembered this was one of the monsters that continually attacked our world for no apparent reason. I glared at it, leaning inward to try and assert dominance.

           “Get out,” I growled darkly, “or you’ll regret ever coming.”

           The Duplo glared back at me with its huge, almost pouty eyes. “You’re no fun,” it spoke in its childish voice. It rolled over, causing me to topple off, before leaving the scene and being beamed up into the mysterious spaceship it came from. I put my sword back in the holster and clapped my hands together, straightening myself out. I then turned around to find the citizens of Bricksburg all staring at me with various expressions. I shot them a cheeky, lopsided grin.

           “Thought you guys could use another fighter.”

           “Light?” a familiar voice gasped from the front of the crowd.

           “Ey, Wyldstyle!” I trudged up to her, and we hugged. “How’ve you been?”

           “What are you doing here?” she asked, dodging my question.

           “Come on, Wyld, you know I’ve been wanting to help you fight off these darn Duplos since the day they first came!”

           “How did you…” she struggled to find the words. “That… that was…”

           “That was AWESOME!”

           My heart shot up into my throat as my attention was drawn to the very object of my affections—Emmet.

           “Where did you learn to fight like that??” he excitedly inquired, running up to me. “Your swordsmanship is incredible!! Oh, and all those crazy kicks you were doing was sooooo cool! And when you hit that building I was afraid you were done for but you got back up! Wait, are you okay?? Gosh you must be in so much pain! How did you make such a fantastic comeback after getting hurt so badly?! Wow! You’re amazing!!!”

           “Okay Emmet, you’re impressed, we get it.” Wyldstyle pushed him out of the way so she could continue speaking to me. “You do realize what you’re getting yourself into, right?”

           I, however, had trouble speaking back up. Emmet thought that highly of my fighting? Emmet, the sweet and strong hero who saved the universe, thought I was amazing?? The guy I had been missing and crushing on for two years was really that impressed by unimpressive me? It was too good to be true.

           “Uhhh, yeah, of course I do! This stuff, this is a dangerous endeavor, but I’ve been training and honing my Duplo fighting techniques for two years, and now I’m finally ready to fight alongside you all in Bricksburg.”

           “Apocalypseburg.”

           “What?”

           “We’re actually calling it Apocalypseburg now,” Wyldstyle clarified.

           “Oh.” I scratched the back of my neck. “Of course. Leave it to me to never truly know what’s going on.”

           “So wait, let me get this straight,” Emmet interrupted our conversation once more. “You trained for two years, specifically so you could fight Duplos here?”

           “Exactamundo!” I made a “you got it” gesture. Emmet appeared very awestruck at this point; his wide eyes blinking in wonder and his mouth falling agape just a bit. A warm smile soon appeared on his face.

           “Wow… that’s really brave of you.”

           I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat as he looked up at me. Oh no, he’s even more adorable than I remembered. It was then that I realized that my crush on him hadn’t gone away even in the least bit.

           “I… well I mean, I figured I should give to the cause somehow. So uhh, here I am!”

           “Well now that you’re here…” Emmet paused to hold his hand out. “Welcome aboard!”

           I hesitated for a moment or two, because goddamn his face was way too adorable for his own good, before taking his outstretched hand and shaking it. I had to resist the urge to kiss his hand instead. “Thanks. I-it’s great to see you again, Emmet.”

           “Good to see you too, Light!” My heart fluttered as he smiled that adorable smile of his, but his smile quickly turned into a look of mild confusion. “Wait a minute, is it just me, or did you get taller?”

           “Uhh, maybe?” I aimlessly looked upward as if I were attempting to see the top of my own head. I was always on the tall side, and, indeed, I was even a little taller than Emmet. He giggled at my response to the question.

           “Alright, well, thanks for helping us out,” Wyldstyle continued, “but where are you going to live?”

           “Oh, I just figured I’d build myself a little apartment somewhere, no big deal.”

           “Oh, are you a Master Builder now??” Emmet eagerly inquired.

           “Actually, no, not yet,” I admitted. “But! I’m still working on it, and I’m not too terrible at building residencies, so all I need to do is find a plot to build on and some bricks to build with and I’m good to go!”

           “Good luck with that,” Wyldstyle deadpanned. “Competition is fierce around here. But I admire your enthusiasm anyway.” She patted my shoulder. “Come on Emmet, we’ve got stuff to take care of.”

           “Alright, I’m coming!” Emmet jovially responded as he started to follow her. “Take care, Light!” he shouted from over his shoulder. “Hey, we should get coffee together sometime!”

           “Y-yeah!” I sputtered, barely waving my hand before he turned back around to face Wyldstyle. As the pair walked off, I noticed just how… happy they looked together. Emmet was bouncing happily alongside Wyldstyle, and she had a genuine smile on her face as he mindlessly chattered with her (or so he appeared to be from where I was). He even excitedly grabbed her hand… oh no.

           I shook my head. Why am I so upset about the possibility that they’re dating? I haven’t even seen the guy in two years, and Wyld is my best friend. Am I really gonna let a dumb crush get in the way…?

           I sighed, making my way into the remaining ruins of the once great city. Well, I was here now, may as well tough out whatever comes at me.

[petertingle-yipyip]

Right Here, Right Now - Klaus Mikaelson

//Requested:  hello, idk if you do crossover but could you write imagine where used to date dean winchester but later they broke up and she moved to new orleans and klaus takes a liking in her? thanks //

//Disclaimer: I don’t watch Supernatural so this is simply a name drop. The anon who requested it is OK with it so let’s proceed.//

//Warnings: Some talks of a breakup. Tag List: @simonsaysyasss @akshi8278 @aomi-nabi//

//Part Two//

Things were never simple, especially when you were with Dean. He wasn't a normal guy, and neither was his brother. Together, they were a supernatural hunting team. And sometimes, it put you in harm's way. Dean swore that he would protect you, that nothing would ever hurt you, but you couldn't risk it. After all, Dean was human. He could die just as easily as you could. So you left.

You left Dean and left your old home to move with your cousin in New Orleans. You knew a change of scenery would be the best option for you, or else you'd run back to Dean the first chance you got.

You sat on the patio of your cousin's work, waiting for her shift to end. She was a bartender at the local hot spot, Rousseau's. Everyone loved her and everyone was her friend. And you weren’t at all surprised. Growing up, she was always the better of you two. The sugar to your spice. Over time though, your spice didn’t kick the same.

“Bit lonely out here, isn’t it Love?” Someone suddenly asked, snapping you from your day dreams. Without necessarily trying to, you were thinking about that last day with Dean, the day you broke his heart. But you knew you couldn’t look back. You couldn’t let yourself reminisce anymore.

“Huh?” You said as you look up, taken aback by his looks.

He was effortlessly beautiful. His eyebrows were quirked, a smirk of amusement tugged his lips. His hands were neatly clasped behind his back and he radiated confidence. His eyes were a mesmerizing blue-green, seemingly hiding some mischief behind them. You were intrigued to say the least.

“May I?” He asked, gesturing to the seat next you.

“By all means..” You replied, sitting up a little straighter. “God knows I need to take my mind off things... I’m Y/N, by the way. Even though you didn’t ask..”

“Klaus.” He nodded with a small smile. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“That obvious, huh?” You chuckled. “But no, actually I’m not. Well, kind of. I grew up here with my cousins before my parents decided to pack up and get out of New Orleans.. It’s always been my favorite place to be though, no matter how far away we went.”

“Your cousin?” He questioned. “Is that who you’re staying with?”

“Mhmm. She’s the bartender here.. Camille? You know her?”

He laughed a little, glancing to the door and back to you. “I do, actually. She’s a friend of mine, believe it or not.”

“Wow.. Never would’ve guessed that, actually.”

“Well, now I’m offended.” He said with mock offense. “Is it cause I’m devilishly handsome? It’s a curse really.”

“Oh yeah, I bet it is.” You teased. “No, I just meant that you don’t seem like you’d be friends with her. She’s everything good about the world rolled into one soul, y’know? But you... You’re different than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I’m not sure.” You said honestly. “For all I know, the devil takes human form in Klaus...” You trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the obvious blank.

“Mikaelson.” He nodded proudly.

For some reason, that name was familiar. Klaus Mikaelson. Was he an associate of Dean’s? Was he someone Dean had hunted? Should you know that name? But then it hit you like a ton of bricks. You had read that name in one of Dean’s thousands of books. But he was a myth... Wasn’t he?

“Niklaus Mikaelson, commonly under the alias ‘Klaus’, the equivalent to the devil’s darkest desires, walked the earth when the earth was new. He is said to have more power than any creature in existence, for he is a whole new beast. No man will conquer the Hybrid.” You quoted the book and watched his ears perk up, his eyes widened. 

“Ah... So you’ve heard of me?” He smirked devilishly.

“You were a myth... A vampire-werewolf hybrid was a myth.” You explained.

“I’m quite real, Love. See?” He said plainly, taking your hand as if to prove he was actually sitting in front of you.

“That’s...” You paused, searching your vocabulary for a word that could do this feeling in the pit of your stomach justice. “Amazing.” You settled on.

“You’re not afraid?” He asked curiously. You couldn’t tell if he wanted you to be afraid or if he was relieved that you weren’t. Either way, you weren’t. You wondered if maybe you should’ve been, but at the same time, you knew you had no reason to be. You hadn’t wronged Klaus in anyway. He had no reason to hurt you. So what was there to be afraid of?

“Are the stories true?” You asked eagerly. “Did you really wipe out an entire pack and then some back East to build a hybrid army?”

He chuckled and released your hand. One hand came under his chin and the other waved through the air, as if to say it was no big deal.

“That is badass!” You exclaimed in excitement. “I always thought it was impossible to mix a werewolf and a vampire.” You said in a more modest tone of voice. “So how did that happen?”

“My mother had an affair with a neighboring tribe and the man happened to be a werewolf. So, I was born as not only the bastard, but a werewolf. She created us vampires through a spell, to protect us from said werewolves.” He explained simply.

“And the curse has to be activated, right? Take a life and become a ‘slave to the moon’ and all that?” You asked, putting air quotes around a few words.

“Yes, and once I fed for the first time, it triggers the other part of me. My mother did yet another spell on me to force my wolf side to lay dormant until I freed it.” He finished  and glanced at your face to gauge your reaction. Maybe he was hoping to scare you off, or entice you into his life more.

“Dude..” You said in awe. “There are so many people that won’t even say your name in public. They act like you’re Beetlejuice or something.”

“Nonsense.” He shook his head with a small smile. “I’d never wear such tacky stripes.”

“Could you imagine?” You laughed. “Oh my god, yeah, I don’t think you’d look good in blocky, vertical stripes. Sorry, buddy.”

“What do you mean? Devilishly handsome, remember?” He joked.

You burst out in laughter again, genuinely happy. You didn’t think you could happy after you left Dean, not this soon at least. Something in your eyes must’ve given that away because the next question from Klaus practically called you out on it.

“What are you running from?” He asked, more to himself than to you, as if he was still trying to figure you out. “So, what brings you to New Orleans?” He asked, a little louder than before.

“Dean Winchester.” You sighed, a smile staying on your face when remembering him. “He was my boyfriend, of a long time. But I broke up with him... He was great, don’t get me wrong. But I couldn’t stand by him and live his lifestyle anymore. I couldn’t have him worrying about me over himself anymore.”

“What was he?” 

“A hunter... Anything and everything supernatural, alongside his brother. The family business, I guess... I don’t know, at the end of the day I loved him and I still do. It’s just... exhausting being with someone who knows they’re mortal but who acts like they’re invincible.”

“Hey, Y/N/N.. Oh, Klaus...” Camille said, suddenly at your side. “Is he bothering you?”

“Not at all.” You smiled genuinely. “He was keeping me company, actually.”

“See, Camille?” He said with a joking smile. “I’m great with new people.”

“You hate people.” She argued with an amused eye roll.

“Nonsense, I love people.” He shook his head.

“Anyways. I’ll be done in a few minutes, I promise.” She told you.

“Take your time, Cousin. Klaus isn’t too bad.” You replied as she was called back inside.

“How do you know Cami?” You asked once she was out of earshot.

“My friend, Marcel, had a bit of a crush on her not too long ago. We invited her to a family party for him and they didn’t really spark anything exciting. In my efforts to get her to notice him, her and I became friends.” He explained.

“Cause that happens, all the time.” You nodded, trying to keep your sarcastic smile back.

“You’ve got your wits about you, don’t you?” He said in amusement.

“Cami was always the sugar, I was the spice.” You shrugged, slightly proud of how quick you could combat with your words.

“You know, I think you’d get along well with my younger brother, Kol. He’s an absolute ass but I think you two would be great friends.” He said with some admiration. 

“Cause I’m an absolute ass too, yeah?” You joked.

“Seems that way.” He teased in return.

“Oh, that one hurt.” You faked offense. “Maybe you’re really not a people person.”

“Poppycock!” He exclaimed and you tried so hard to maintain a straight face.

“Who says that?!” You managed through your laughter.

“You know, Y/N,“ He said gently. “I’d love to see you again.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Big Bad Wolf?” You teased with a smile.

“Seems that way.” He smiled in return. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before...”

“Well, since I’m oh so special, I’d like that.” You nodded and exchanged phone numbers before leaving the patio with your cousin. As Klaus returned to his house, he couldn’t help but look at the new contact with your name and smile. He had the most mundane exchange with the most extraordinary girl.

She talked your ear off all night with what she knew about Klaus, both what he had told her and what she had figured out on her own. She said he was troubled, closed off, and had plenty of emotional baggage to spare. But he was interested in you. And apparently, he wouldn’t stop until you either told him to buzz off or he has you by his side. Either way, you were excited to see where it would go.

[avehi-the-adamant]

Meeting Her Maker

The frigid winds of Icecrown felt good against the Death Knight’s pale skin - one of few physical comforts she still felt. From atop Shinigosa’s back, she looked out over the Icecrown. It hadn’t changed at all since the height of the Scourge War. Appropriately enough, the landscape seemed frozen in time, unaltered by anything happening in the world outside the continent. The mindless corpses still shambled about the wastes, the saronite structures pierced the horizon… even the Scourge banners still hung from the ramparts around the Citadel. She tugged Shinigosa’s reins, turning her to fly out west, towards the Shadow Vault. 

The spire came into view after a moment or two of obscurity… Avehi snarled some at it. Specifically, she snarled at the thought of Tylveris; the cold, calculating Commander of what Ebon Blade forces still held the Vault. But she wasn’t always in charge there. Avehi remembered well the days of Duke Lankral’s leadership, after wrestling control of the strategic holding away from the Scourge. She hadn’t paid much thought to the Duke in some time. Not him, nor Baron Silver, nor the Runesmith! It was odd to think it, but she did recall a time when being a member of the Ebon Blade was a point of pride for her. Some of her undead colleagues still held a special place in her frozen heart. Grimbane, Uzo, all friends from days long passed. A part of her wondered what all her old Death Knight friends were up to. Yet at the same time, she didn’t ever want to find out.

“Not even him…”

She hadn’t come here for Tylveris. This time. Instead, she cast a passing glare at the Shadow Vault, and nothing more.. The frost wyrm was elegant, disciplined, maintaining her vector without so much as a jostle as she crested the jagged mountains to the west. Then, she began her descent down from the frozen cliffs towards Onslaught Harbor. She passed close by the long-abandoned Death’s Rise, where Avehi and her compatriots planned and executed the final elimination of the Scarlet Onslaught. The view overlooking the sea from here brought back memories… a sense of determination, and belonging. A comfort, of sorts. Had it really been so long?

Normally, when Avehi wanted to get away for awhile, she’d go to the Azure Isles. Mierne was safe and sound, but recovering now at the Exodar. Visiting the untamed wilds of Bloodmyst didn’t seem right without her. How she wished to share some of her problems with Mierne, vent about how every relationship she had seemed to be falling apart. Nedemus hated her… her friendship with Sylaess was complex… she still felt she was dancing atop eggshells around the hormonally-unbalanced Sinafay… and Argonas was downright intolerable, no matter what she did. 

But Mierne was in recovery; hardly in any condition to lend an ear to Avehi’s gripes. Not while she was recovering from all she endured down in Nazjatar… But where was Avehi to turn, if not to Mierne? It became painfully apparent to the Death Knight she had no one else.

“Except him.”

Shinigosa’s talons sank into the cool, damp sand of Onslaught Harbor, touching down with every bit of grace as she’d been flying. Avehi gave her an affectionate pat along her side as she dismounted. She’d proven one partner on whom Avehi could rely, at least. Undeath had robbed the drake of so much, but she was still as noble a creature as ever. Avehi recognized and appreciate that. Having delivered Avehi to her destination, Shinigosa took off once more, taking to the skies to soar freely for a while. She’d earned it, surely.

Onslaught Harbor was as vacant as the day she left. Moreso; there were fewer Scarlet bodies strewn about. Scavenger birds had picked most of them clean, leaving only their bones and tabards. No one, not even diseased fowl, had need for either. The Scarlet Crusade, or Onslaught… whatever moniker they wore in each iteration didn’t matter… they were always the same. They served only one purpose, as far as Avehi was concerned; a cautionary one. 

In life, she was as zealous and single-minded as these rouge-wearing humans had been. If it wasn’t within the Light’s good graces, it deserved little more than to be purged from existence. She was of such ilk before; faithful to a grievous fault. And it netted her nothing, in the end. She eyed each corpse she passed carefully as she strode across the stone bridge - many of them she’d put in place herself. Faith was dangerous… exploitable… for these humans, and her own people alike. She thought of the Dreadlords who had wormed their way into the upper echelons of Scarlet power. Not once, but twice! Then… she thought of X’era. And Yrel. It pained her to think about it, even now... though she had realized such for some time; the Light was not as pure and unerring as she was led to believe, in her formative years.

She put that all from her mind, for now. Enough troubles swirled about her thoughts today… she need not dredge up more to keep them company. Instead, Avehi climbed the grime-stained steps of the once glistening Scarlet Cathedral - the only true structure on this long-forgotten islet - and stepped inside. To set hoof in a bastion of the Light would be painful for Avehi… but this was no such place. Not anymore. Now, no holiness dwelled in this place. Only a piece of her past she���d left behind.

“Astaloren!”

She stopped in her tracks at the skirt - shredded, defiled scrap of carpeting led deeper into the once-hallowed halls of the cathedral. At one point a vibrant red… now a sickening faded brown. It had aged as well as the Scarlets had. Her chilling gaze followed the carpeting, further back and up the steps to the altar. Rather… where the altar used to be. Now, there sat a throne. A lavish chair of a pompous, self-aggrandizing clergyman, now rusted and gnarled with the ages behind it. It served well enough for a throne nonetheless… a seat in which a dark, still figure sat. Even in such dim light, his silhouette could be seen with enough clarity. Arms pinned proudly to the armrests, shoulders back, feet planted firmly on the ground. His hood hid the sheen of his golden locks, but the ears poking forth from it made him easy enough to identify. His eyes flickered to life - the runes of his blade, stuck into the ground beside him, followed suit… each sparking their ghastly blue hue in succession.

“Avehi.”

Her plated fingers tensed at her hammer’s hilt. Too much time had passed since last they spoke… not all her undead friends had kept their sanity. Or valor. The Draenei approached with that caution in mind. She’d been close with Astaloren back then. But this was now. Times change.

“It’s been a long time.” she greeted him… about as neutrally as possible.

He rose from the chair, and flipped his hood back. Golden hair still cascaded down his shoulders, shimmering in the dim light that poured in through broken windows and cracks in the ceiling. His hand reached to take up his blade, plucking it from the ground like a flower. The runes flared, whispering raucously for a brief moment, as he descended the steps. It seemed he, too, was cautious.

“Too long.” he returned the greeting. “I wondered when you’d come walking through that door again.”

Her tail flickered - she recognized that tone in his voice. That sweet, appeasing, melodical tone he’d use to exude a cool and calm demeanor… when really, he was yearning to split a foe apart. Like a coiled snake, low and watchful, waiting for his moment to strike. This was a mistake. Avehi stopped once more, raising her hammer just a bit higher - runes on her weapon whispering back to his.

“--Astaloren, I didn’t come here looking for a fight.” she stated, a streak of warning in her words.

“Of course not, my dear.” he flashed a grin. “You always brought the fight with you.”

He raised his blade at the ready, closing the rest of the distance between them with considerable speed. The Draenei gasped, reacting quickly. She’d fought beside him long enough to read his moves, now - an advantage she didn’t have the first time they faced one another. A broad cleave to open - she jumped back to evade it. Carried momentum into a vertical strike - she batted the blade away with her hammer as it came down. A practiced twirl to swing his sword up, around, and back in a diagonal slash - she leaned right, letting only the cold air moving in the blade’s wake caress her skin. A practiced series of maneuvers, like steps to a tired and deadly dance. Her eyes flickered in irritation and worry all the same.

Astaloren sprung back, before bringing the hilt of his blade up, tip trained on the Draenei. He sprang forward once more with unholy speed, intent on running her through. Deftly, Avehi brought her hammer close to her chest as well, the crystal head deflecting the piercing lunge off to her left perfectly; she couldn’t afford otherwise. She reached her free hand out to grip Astaloren’s arm, and threw him aside. To her surprise… he fell much harder than she expected. His body slammed into a stone pillar, Astaloren seeming to do nothing to stop or slow being tossed in such a manner. 

Hammer aglow, runes and crystalline head alike, she readied herself to retaliate once more in case this was some new tactic she hadn’t yet seen. Had she really just thrown him? So quickly? So easily?

“--Enough! I’m not here to fight you!” she repeated, sternly. “I have no time for such games!”

Astaloren responded with… a groan? Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. The realization flashed briefly across Avehi’s face as she studied the elf. Slowly, he pulled himself back up, only to collapse again to a struggling kneel. 

“J-Just as well…” he muttered, repositioning to sit with his back against the pillar.

The stammer caused his lips to curl, twisting with the bitter aftertaste of a frown. His energy in the moment diminished, abating like a flame with little left to burn. Less violent, and more resigning. One hand still gripped tight the hilt of his blade. The other pressed to his thigh.

 “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much of a challenge to you today, anyway.”

Avehi looked him over, seeing him more clearly now that she was up close… and he was finally holding still. Her eyes were drawn to the leg he clutched. Mangled and shattered. Stabilized, but only just so. As she suspected. With a frown, Avehi lowered her hammer.

“--What happened?” she demanded as she knelt beside him on the dust-coated tiles.

“What do you expect happened?” he snapped a bit, exuding a bit of that elven impatience. “The Ebon Blade aren’t fond of those of us who branch off.” 

The growl in his voice lingered beyond his words, before dying off a breath or so later. He shook his head, suppressing the agitation. For now. She wasn’t at his throat, after all. He could relax.

“I suspect you know that well enough by now, yourself.” he went on, managing to make his tone more natural and sincere. “They send a Knight or two down from the Vault ever so often, to try and coerce me back into the fold.”

His eyes darted up to Avehi’s face, brow cocked as he gauged her face.

“I generally send them back in pieces.”

The Draenei scoffed, setting to work quickly in straightening his mangled leg. She tugged the plated glove from her hand, and pressed down on his thigh. His lips tightened as he bit back a sound, but he didn’t stop her. His eyes did not flinch. Blood pooled in her palm, oozing from her pores as it streamed steadily into his leg.

“What happened this time, then?” she pressed for more explanation as she worked.

“They sent ten.”

He smirked, then chuckled his proud, if not rather obnoxious, chuckle; every bit the haughty elf now that he was in life. Avehi rolled her eyes, as she continued mending his leg through hemomancy. Some things hadn’t changed, it seemed. It was oddly comforting, after such a tumultuous reception. She’d treated wounds of her own like this over the years… but it had been some time since she used it to help another Death Knight. Bones crackled as they snapped back in place, shredded muscle mending with similarly unkind sounds as Avehi’s blood carried life essence enough through them to do so.

“You were overwhelmed.” she scolded him, tail flickering with irritation.

“I was mobbed, yes. All things considered, however, I did rather well.” Astaloren retained his gloating demeanor. “Fortune favors me. And now again, bringing you by.”

“And yet you tried to stab me.”

The words spilled from her mouth, flat and dull. As if in outright rejection to the attempted compliment. Her eyes narrowed, half-glaring expression matching her voice’s unimpressed tone.

“--I worried they’d sent you, too.” he shrugged, innocently enough. “I thought you were here to kill me. By their order, or your own volition.”

“Hmph. Who says I haven’t?” she snapped back, eyes narrowing further.

Astaloren placed his hand atop hers, meeting her stern gaze with a sincere one. Both their eyes flickered in the moment, for different reasons.

“Then I’ll get what I deserve.” he said, rather bluntly - perhaps a little raw from the circumstance. “If anyone were going to kill me, my dear… I’d die happy knowing it was you.”

Avehi scoffed again, and rolled her eyes. She set his leg with one final, brusque shove. He grunted, before exhaling… it was serviceable enough, for now. Slipping her hand back into her gauntlet, she stood up, and stepped away.

“Do not start that again.” she shook her head. “I may not have come here to kill you, but I certainly didn’t come here for that.”

The Draenei hefted her hammer up once more, sheathing it to her back as she stepped back towards the center of the Cathedral. Her eyes glanced about, recognizing the signs of the more recent combat this place had seen during Astaloren’s stay here. He was formidable enough in combat to believe his tale of ten Death Knights all coming to kill him at once... only for the lot of them to be cut down. Outlines of the lifeless heaps of their remains could be seen in the shadowed corners of the room, lending credence to his claim. She knew his combat prowess was potent. He’d taught her accuracy, follow-through, finesse… the same tools he’d used to best her years prior in the Plaguelands. The same talent that could’ve cut her down again, here and now, were not for his leg damage.

Astaloren stood as well, his leg ready to be used again immediately, if he didn’t mind the pain. Which he didn’t. Undeath had some advantages, anyway. There was never really a pain too difficult to bear that an unholy existence alone hadn’t already dulled away. At least, to some degree. Manageable. He, too, took up his weapon and sheathed it to his back, turning his gaze to Avehi.

“If neither of those reasons… why?” he asked her, ear flickering. “Why’d you come all this way?”

She didn’t respond for a moment. A long moment. A sigh escaped her, as her shoulders slumped.

“... I don’t know.” she mumbled. “I just… couldn’t stay where I was. It didn’t feel like home anymore.”

The elf’s elongated brow raised, as he paced around. Though healed, his leg was still sore. Stiff. It felt wobbly for now, as his muscles learned how to work in unison again. The sharp pain began to dissipate, joints creaking less and less as things returned to proper form and rhythm. He stepped around Avehi, and cast his azure gaze up at her.

“... And this place does?”

She scoffed… but nodded.

“Is it strange that it does, in a way I can’t quite explain?”

“Not at all.” he replied, flashing a grin. “I think we were at our peak, back when we took this place from the Scarlets. The height of the Ebon Blade’s unity and effectiveness.”

Astaloren chuckled, as he paced the halls once more. She saw only the dismal remains of the Cathedral, for now. But he looked around, eyes wide and excited as if he were seeing it for the first time. The same way he looked at it when they stormed it so many years ago. Avehi could see it plain as could be on his face - he was reminiscing.

“It felt good, didn’t it? That rush! That sense of purpose!” he went on, running his hand along another one of the pillars holding the rickety roof over them. “I don’t know about you… but that sensation… the morale victory of finally culling one of our oldest foes is what carried me into the breach of the Citadel.”

“Mm. We were a team, then. United in our goal.” Avehi nodded… lips cracking into a soft smile, for the first time in ages. “The momentum we built up sweeping through Icecrown…”

“We carried the campaign on our backs.” Astaloren interjected… his mood shifting. “But the world will always remember it differently, won’t it?”

The Draenei’s smile hid away once more, replaced by the more comfortable and oft-seen scowl. She let out a light scoff. He wasn’t wrong - the Argent Crusade did only some of the work… yet they seem to have gotten all the credit. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

“... The living have their prejudices, even still.” she put, simply. “The Argent Crusade ran their campaign in our wake, and enjoyed all the glory of the victory we handed them. Accolades, honors, statues… all for them, and none for us.”

Astaloren nodded curtly. He approached Avehi, letting out a heavy artificial sigh. His hand reached for hers, taking it in a rare moment of tenderness - concern written across his furrowed brow. 

“You returned to them, too.” he stated. “Tell me… how have you been received? By the living? By your people?”

Avehi turned her head away, tugging her hand from his - not in any offense of his words or actions, but rather… in shame. She shook her head.

“Some are accepting. But they are rare among the living. Rarer still among my people.” she admitted. “Now, the Lightforged of the Army of the Light have joined with the Alliance, as well. Their prejudices run… much deeper… than most. The Light can be overpowering, at times.”

“So I’ve heard.” the elf scoffed slightly - gentler than he would’ve liked, as not to detract from the conversation. “An entire people devoted to it, too… I still can’t fathom why you’d return to them.”

“Because they’re my people.” she retorted, defensively. “I returned to serve them. To protect them as I did in life.”

“How many of them care?” he asked bluntly. “How many of them acknowledge your service? Your sacrifice? How many treat you as an equal?”

The Draenei turned, and took a few steps towards the exit… before stopping. Hands clenched tightly, air around her growing colder and colder, tail swaying in aggravation. She wanted to leave - this was not the refuge she sought after all… not entirely. The truth of Astaloren’s words echoed in her mind. Resonating strongly with what she already felt. What she already knew. Continuing her service, a holdover from a life cut short too soon… meant nothing to the general public of her people. Certainly not enough to justify her grotesque existence in their eyes. A part of her always knew it to be so.

Astaloren’s hand reached out once more, planting itself gently on Avehi’s shoulder as he stepped up beside her. 

“... I told you this was the likely outcome when you left.” he stated, voice taking on a softer tone.

“You did.” Avehi nodded. “But… I didn’t want to believe it.”

The elf turned, nudging Avehi’ softly to do the same so the two Death Knights could face each other. She turned at his behest, eyes meeting his somberly… she’d rather look to the floor, or ceiling, or at one of the dilapidated pillars. His gaze stung - truth wasn’t always easy to face.

“It’s admirable you tried. But… I didn’t seek to raise you to be another simple soldier.”

A wrinkle crossed her azure brow. Confusion. Slowly, she shook her head.

“--What do you mean? Of course you did. That’s all any of us were raised to be.”

“--Yes, yes... I had my assignment, after all.” he admitted, shrugging - there was no denying that much, in those days. “But I saw more than an expendable soldier’s work in store for you, Avehi. Potential. The capacity to be more than what you were, living or dead. You took on a legion of Scourge by yourself. You fought me with conviction, against all odds!”

He nodded firmly, ears perked and gaze brimming with pride. 

“When you joined me in breaking free of the Lich King’s dominion, it only proved what I already knew. You’re strong-willed and indomitable, Avehi.” he declared with conviction. “It… baffles me… that you’d return to serve your people as a footsoldier, when you’re capable of so much more.”

Avehi had always wondered what kinds of relationships other Knights had with those responsible for raising them into undeath. Some were vengeful, she figured. At first, even she felt nothing but rage and desire to seek retribution. Others were more subservient, though. She’d seen that time and time again; strong Knights commanding those they had raised. Weaker acolytes falling in line like common ghouls. Such a loathsome existence that must be… detrimental to everything the Ebon Blade stands-- well, stood for. 

She never had need to worry about that with him, at least. 

Astaloren didn’t treat Avehi like just another ghoul. Another pawn in the Lich King’s arsenal. He engaged with her, conversed with her as an equal. Taught her to fight, helped her cope with undeath… kept her focused on the goals they both shared. Goals they completed together, unified. Aggrandizing as his words came off… she believe every one of them. His actions, then and now both, were proof enough. He respected her. He believed in her. He wanted to see her succeed.

Her lips pressed thin - either suppressing a smile or attempting to force one - as she brought her hand to his. 

“I don’t know what more I could ever be to my people, now.”

“Oh, Avehi… you still don’t see it. The Draenei aren’t your people anymore. Now, they’re just people.” Astaloren explained, giving Avehi’s hand a squeeze. “You fought for them, and you died for them. You no longer owe them anything, Avehi. You don’t owe anyone anything.”

He took his hand from her shoulder, and set it gently against her cheek. His eyes darted back and forth between hers, watchful and sympathetic. Comforting, all the same. A strange demeanor for him to take, but it wasn’t the first time he’d done so. Brutal as his reputation painted him, Avehi knew well this more endearing side to Astaloren. She tilted her head into his hand, with a weary, accepting sigh. He had a habit for being right.

“Then… what purpose do I have left?”

“Any purpose you desire.” he stated, as if expecting her to ask. “You’ve lived enough for everyone else. Fought enough for everyone else. Died enough for everyone else… Perhaps it is time you started living for yourself, my dear.”

Such a concept; simple, yet it felt so unnatural for Avehi anymore. Vindicators were so molded to serve, it was hard to remember a time before it. But she did, faintly. To do as she pleased, with whomever she pleased, setting after goals without weighing the altruism of it all. She closed her eyes, nodding slightly in the palm of Astaloren’s hand. It was a relief. A release. Weight off her shoulders to hear it aloud. To hear she could live for herself, even in death. The elf gave her hand a squeeze, his other pressing her head back upright. Admiration flickered in his gaze, as his lips parted in a smile.

“Would you care to stay the night?” he asked, innocuous enough.

The choice would be the first in a long line she’d make for herself, starting tonight. With another subtle nod, she gave Astaloren’s hand a squeeze… and followed him deeper into the Cathedral. Damaged, dilapidated, crumbling in every corner. Walls still stained with the faded red hues of blood and Scarlet frippery. The last fallen bastion of a vanquished foe. Avehi couldn’t say at first why such a desolate place had called to her. Why it felt like home.

But she was starting to see it now.

~*~

(( @miernethepersevering, @sinafay-the-defiant, @nedemus @sylaess for mentions, and extra thanks to @sylaess for proofing and advising <3 ))

[xilee-reaper]

Take my Heart (Chapter 1)

Genre: Fluff / Mystery / humour / angst / drama / action / fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook x reader | bts x reader

Word count: 3,744

Summary:  During the course of a school year, Jungkook and other students awaken to their Persona powers, becoming a group of secret vigilantes that will help save humanity from ruin.

Author’s note: Hi! So my plan to finish the first heist failed. I realized that the time interval of my upload between each heist will be insanely long is I strictly upload per heist. So I decided to just break down the heist into different chapters. Because the first heist long, this is just the beginning trust me. Before we move into the next heist it will probably take another 2-4 chapter. 

Also, I did not reread what I just typed so yeah. I will fix it later. The more notes I get the more motivated I am, so keep that notes flying hahaha kidding kidding but really though, I really appreciate it if you send me some feedback.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and stay tuned for the next chapters.

Navigation: Masterlist

First Heist: Bae KyuSoo 

Month: April. Day: 09 (Saturday Afternoon)

Jungkook woke up in a train “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for riding our train today. We will be arriving at Seoul station shortly” the announcer said but all of this was unheard as Jungkook focuses on what’s the reason why’s he here.

From a near distance, Jungkook heard an argument between a man and a woman.

“Just get in the car.”

“Stop it!”

Eaten by his curiosity, he decided to see what’s going or if he needed to interfere.

“How dare you cross me”

“Stop it! Let me go! No!”

“Don’t give me that shit”

“Ow! P-please, stop!”

“What a waste of time. You think you’re worth causing me trouble? Huh?”

“I-I’ll call the police!”

“Heh, call them if you want. The police are my bitches. They’re not gonna take you seriously.”

“No... Stop!”

“Incompetent fools like you just need to shut your mouths and follow where I steer this country!”

“Please! Help!” The woman exclaimed as she saw Jungkook.

It was an assault. Feeling the urgent need to help, Jungkook hurriedly ran and tried to release the man’s grasped from the woman by dragging his shoulder. A foul breath greeted him, the man was drunk, really drunk to the point he lost his balance. Jungkook put the woman behind as they watch the man stagger and lost his footing. He hit his head on the railing but Jungkook was too shocked to register what’s happening.

“Damn brat... I’ll sue!” the man screamed as he glared at Jungkook while holding his head, blood pouring out of it.

Everything happened so fast that all Jungkook can remember was the police dragging him inside their vehicle.

“What? Are you for real? A mental shutdown?” He heard some gossiping teenager said. “It’s the truth!”

“To a person though? That’s gotta be a joke. You really love all that occult stuff, don’t you?”

As he was listening Jungkook noticed that the train already arrived at Seoul station. Quickly, he gathered all of his stuff and exited the train. As he was walking he noticed how different Seoul was to his hometown, Busan. Everything was so busy, from people to the vehicles. Although Seoul was big, it felt so stuffy and unfriendly. As he was observing this big city his phone suddenly beep, notifying him that there’s a new app that’s been installed. Jungkook became confused, as he looked at his phone there’s a red-eye icon showing. Not knowing what to do he decided to click on it and the icon became bigger. He just repeatedly click the app hoping that he can delete it but to no avail, it didn’t work. Sighing thinking that his phone might have a virus he decided to stuff it back to his pocket but as he was doing this he noticed something bizarre happening. Everything was slowing, from the people to the vehicles moving, even the noise was getting slower and slower. And then, as if the time had stopped working, everything stood motionless.

Alarmed, Jungkook looked around him to see he’s just the only one conscious. He’s not the only one, someone, a girl was standing on top of a building staring emotionless at him. Her eyes have a different color from one another, one was bright yellow, while the other was silver, almost white. She has a doll-like face with a small stature and a silver hair. A man was standing, no-- flying beside her. Like the girl, the man has silver hair and silver eyes accompanied by a silver wing. “What the...” Jungkook was speechless when he noticed the girl and the man turned their backs on him and retreating from their position. “Hey wait!” He tried to run after them.

From a distance, he saw something, a blue and black fire morphing into some kind of figure then suddenly bursting forming a wing-like shape. It felt like Jungkook was trapped in a trance when the fire-figure smiled sinisterly at him and Jungkook suddenly saw his face, equally sinister and smiling like the figure.

As if he was finally released from the trance, Jungkook blinked once and noticed that everything was back to normal. When he looked at his phone he still saw the red-eye icon. Shrugging and not thinking any of it he decided to just delete the app and proceeded to transfer train.

Once he arrived at his destination ‘Ichon’ he quickly goes to the area where his new place was located. Arriving at some kind of back street, he looked around ‘Starting today, Sejin will be taking care of me.’ he thought ‘Can’t he just give his surname? It will be a pain in the ass to find a man without knowing his surname.’

“Oh well. His house should be in the backstreets of this residential area” He said to himself as he hiked up his bag further on his shoulder. 

Once he arrived on what seems Sejin’s house he rang the doorbell but no one was answering or opening the door. 

“Looks like no one’s home...” Jungkook quickly turned his head to the direction of the sound. He saw a delivery man carrying a parcel “Oh, yeah... Sejin-shi usually at his cafe around this time. I should make my other deliveries first.” the delivery man mumbles.

“Excuse me.” Jungkook said gaining the delivery man’s attention. “I’m looking for Sejin? Do you know where he is right now?”

“Are you new here? It’s not common to see a handsome face in this area. Anyways, Sejin-shi’s cafe ‘Leblanc’ is in the back alley.” the delivery man said. Jungkook just bowed and thanked the man before proceeding to go the back alley.

Once he arrived at the back alley he noticed a sign that has ‘Cafe Leblanc’ written on it. Jungkook goes inside and was greeted by three people who were watching the news.

“A public transit bus was driven down an opposing lane with its customer still in it! The citizens can’t live in peace if this keeps up.” The news reporter on the t.v. announces. 

“How frightening” an elder male customer commented

“What could be going on? Didn’t something similar happen just the other day?”  an elder female customer asked.

“Hmmm... vertical is... the name of a kpop band who goes to Grammy’s....... What in the world is this question?!” the man who looked like a manager of the cafe quietly exclaimed when he noticed a burning stare. He decided to look up and saw Jungkook standing at the cafe entrance “Oh right”  he groaned “They did say that was today” he mumbled

“So, you’re the punk. Jungkook?”

“Uh... Sejin-shi?” Jungkook questioned

“Yeah. I’m Manager Sejin. You’ll be in my custody over the next year. I was wondering what kind of unruly kid would show up, but you’re the one, huh? Didn’t expect such an innocent looking brat. Have you been told? A customer of mine and your parents know each other and-- Well, not that it matters. Follow me.”

He leads Jungkook to a dirty attic “This is your room. I’ll at least give you sheets for your bed.” he said. Jungkook looked around the room thinking that it can be mistaken as a dumpster given the amount of trash littered around, Sejin noticed this and said “Hm? You look like you wanna say something.”

“This place is so dirty and cluttered” Jungkook said honestly. “Not my problem. It’s on you to clean up the rest” Sejin shrugged “I’ll be leaving after I lock up each day. You’ll be alone at night, but don’t do anything stupid. I’ll throw you out if you cause any trouble. Now then. I got the gist of your situation. You protected some woman from a man forcing himself on her, he got injured, then sued you, right?” he asked rhetorically “That’s what you get for sticking your nose in a matter between two adults. You did injure him, yeah? And now that you’ve got a criminal record, you were expelled from your high school. The courts ordered you to transfer and move out here, which your parents also approved. In other words, they got rid of you for being a pain in the ass. It’s best you not talk about anything unnecessary, I am in the restaurant business, you know. Behave yourself for the year. If nothing happens, your probation will be lifted. Cause any problem and you’ll be going straight to juvie.” Sejin proceeds to go down the stairs but stopped midway “By the way, we’ll be going to SOPA tomorrow. We’ll introduce ourselves properly to the staff there. There’s rarely a place that’ll accept someone like you, you know”

After Sejin left, Jungkook decided to look around the room. “Ugh. Why’s it so dirty?!” He quietly exclaimed as he drew a line on top of the desk, dust clearly evident on the table. “I cannot sleep in this kind of position, I should start cleaning up first.” And Jungkook started cleaning the room. Placing his things on the unused shelf and cleaning all the dust build up.

Without noticing it’s already evening. “Whoo. It’s late...” he said to himself as he looked outside. “It seems like I’ve been cleaning for a while. I don’t have an appetite and I’m pretty tired from all the cleaning. I should probably just go to bed.”

While laying in bed, Jungkook was notified again that there’s a new app downloaded on his phone. Looking at it he noticed that it’s the red-eye icon again. ‘Hm, it’s that weird app that somehow ended up on my phone.’ he thought ‘I thought I deleted it’ before deleting it. After a while, his eyelids were starting to get heavy.

Jungkook woke up in a dimly lit room. He noticed that as he moved there a rustling of metal, his leg was attached to a metal prison ball and his wrists were cuffed together. Getting out of the bed groggily, he looked around and found out that he’s in a prison cell wearing a black and white striped prison uniform. Extremely confused, all he can do was clutched his head and try to remember why was he here, when suddenly he heard a chuckle. A girl’s chuckle. He looked to the prison cell door and noticed two girls who looked so identical except for their hairstyle and the position of their eyepatch. They’re staring at him. Not knowing what to do he decided to approach the girls to ask a question but all they did was smile sinisterly at him.

Looking further, he noticed a man with a long nose sitting at the center of the room.

“Trickster... Welcome to my Velvet Room” The man with a long nose said.

“What? What is this place!?”

“So you’ve come to, Inmate” A malicious looking girl said.

“The you, in reality, is currently fast asleep. You are only experiencing this as a dream” The quiet looking girl informed but Jungkook was finding it hard to believe as everything looked and felt so real.

“You’re in the presence of our master. Stand up straight!” The malicious girl demanded.

“Welcome, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter. It is a room that only those who are bound by a contract may enter with the exception of one being. Will you meet her in the future Trickster? Or will you not?” The long-nosed man said while chuckling sinisterly. “I am Igor, the master of this place. Remember that well.” The long-nosed man ‘Igor’ introduced himself.

“I summoned you to speak of important matters. It involves your life as well.”

“What do you mean important matters?! Let me out!” Jungkook demanded. Igor just ignored him, looking around the room before saying “Still, this is a surprise. The state of this room reflects the state of your own heart. To think a prison would appear as such. You truly are a prisoner of fate. In the near future, there is no mistake that ruin awaits you.”

“What do you mean? What ruin?” Jungkook questioned Igor. Igor just chuckles before saying “Worry not. There is a means to oppose such a fate. You must be rehabilitated. Rehabilitated towards freedom, that is your only means to avoid ruin. Do you have the resolve to challenge the distortion of the world?” Igor asked, almost daring Jungkook.

Having a competitive side, Jungkook glared at him a little before saying “I don’t know, do you?” Igor just chuckled at this before saying “Ahhh a true trickster indeed. Always refusing to take down a challenge. Well, allow me to observe the path of your rehabilitation.”

Igor noticed the two girls standing outside of Jungkook’s cell. “Ah, pardon me for not introducing the others. To your right is Caroline; to your left, Justine. They serve as wardens here.”

“Hmph, try and struggle as hard as you like.” Caroline said arrogantly.

“The duty of wardens is to protect inmates. We are also your collaborators. That is if you remain obedient.” Justine tried to intimidate Jungkook.

“I shall explain the roles of these two at another occasion. Now then, it seems the night is waning. It is almost time. Take your time to slowly come to understand this place. We will surely meet again, eventually.”

Suddenly a loud siren was heard thru out the whole facility alarming Jungkook.

“Times up. Now hurry up and go back to sleep.” Caroline announced. 

“Hey! Wai--”

Month: April. Day: 10 (Sunday Morning)

Jungkook woke up remembering his strange dream. “Ruin... Rehabilitation...What kind of dream was that?” he quietly questioned himself. “What the heck?! That was the weirdest dream I ever had.”

Not thinking so much about the dream, Jungkook proceeded to his morning routine and meet Sejin downstairs. “Looks like you’re up.” Sejin said as he noticed Jungkook descending the stairs. “Well then, let’s eat breakfast first and then go introduce ourselves properly to the staff about your transfer. The school you’re attending is in the Guro-gu district. It’ll cost you a bit to ride the train there, and the route transfers are a pain. I’ll drive you there, but just for today. Let’s go.”

Month: April. Day: 10 (Sunday Daytime)

Jungkook and Sejin arrived at school when Sejin suddenly stopped and turn to Jungkook before saying “Do me a favor and behave yourself, alright? Don’t get me wrong-- I don’t care what happens to you. Just don’t cause me any trouble” and then moving forward to go to the principal's room. Jungkook was left speechless by this, not knowing how to respond and a little bit hurt that everyone seems to want to get rid of him.

Inside the principal’s office, Sejin signed a few papers as he was Jungkook’s temporary guardian. “To reiterate, just so we’re clear, you will immediately be expelled if you cause any problems.” The principal informed Jungkook. “Honestly, I hesitated on accepting someone like you, but there were some circumstances on our side. You might have done a variety of things in hiding in your hometown, but you will behave yourself here. If you are thrown out from our school, there will be no place for you to go. Keep that in mind.” he continued before gesturing on a woman standing before him “This is the teacher in charge of your class.”

The teacher moved a little bit forward before bowing “I’m Hwang SooMyeon. Here’s your student ID.” She handed Jungkook his ID before continuing “Be sure to read the school rules. Any violations will send you straight to the guidance office. And, if by chance you cause any problems, I won’t be able to protect you at all.” Soomyeon sounded so uninterested and bored that made Jungkook frown a little. “But really though, why me? There should’ve been better candidates” Jungkook heard Soomyeon muttered under her breath.

Probably getting bored, Sejin decided to intervene. “If you’re done explaining things mind if we get going? I got a store to get back to.” he said.

“Sejin-shi, please keep a close eye on him. Don’t let him cause any trouble outside.” The principal reminded Sejin. “Well, I’ll be sure to have a serious talk about the situation he’s in.” Sejin answered.

A loud sighed was heaved by Soomyeon. “Come to the faculty office when you arrive at school tomorrow. I’ll show you to your classroom.” she said monotonously.

Once outside the principal’s office, Sejin let out a loud sighed similar to what Soomyeon did. “They’re treating you like some kinda nuisance. I guess that’s what it means to have a criminal record. Turns out your past follows you wherever you go.” he voiced out his opinion about Jungkook’s situation. “By the way, if you get expelled now, I won’t hesitate to kick you out. Got it?” he reminded Jungkook.

Jungkook just shrugged before saying “I’ll scrape by.”

“Tsk. Cocky little brat. You know you actually look handsome, just keep your mouth shut. Come on, we’re going home.”

While Jungkook and Sejin were leaving the school, Soomyeon and a man were having a conversation in the school’s pathway. “What a troublesome situation.” the man said to Soomyeon. Soomyeon just sighed at this “I can’t believe they pushed someone with a record on me. A male teacher would be better suited for this.”

“Why in the world was someone like that admitted here?” the man shook his head, disappointment lacing through his voice. “Who knows? It was the principal’s decision. I was told that it’s for the school’s reputation.”

“I would’ve thought that my contemporary dance team has contributed more than enough to cover that.” the man boast. “That’s certainly true.” Soomyeon agreed. “Be careful, okay? Then again, if anything were to happen, I’d kick out a student like that right away.”

“I keep wishing that he’d just end up not coming to school. Still, that isn’t something I should be saying as a teacher” Soomyeon confessed 

“Well, I should be returning to practice.”

“Oh, right. The competition’s coming up, isn’t it?”

The man just grinned “Hehe, having such high expectations placed on you by others is quite a problem in itself. We’ll have to work hard to make up for the ballet team too.”

“Yes... that’s true.”

Inside the car, Sejin was drumming his fingers on the stirring wheel impatiently. “Ugh! Traffic’s not moving at all.” he complained, “You’re taking the train starting tomorrow.”

“So how was it? The school, I mean. Think you can manage?” he asked Jungkook.

“Eh, we’ll see.” 

“*sigh* Do you even understand your situation? Still, you were expelled once already. To think you’d enroll at a different one. It’s not like anyone will be sympathetic with you. If that’s what it was like at school, people might say stuff about me in the future too. What a troublesome kid I’ve taken in.”

“Speaking of taking some troublesome kid... Why did you take ME in? Did you perhaps gained something out of it.” Jungkook questioned Sejin, his stare was burning holes to him.

“I was asked to do it, okay?! and I just... happened to agree to it. I’ve already been paid for it too, after all. So yeah I gained something out of this but I’m starting to think it may not be worth it.”

Their conversation was cut by the radio news report “Again, a subway has derailed at Seoul station, greatly affecting the timetable across the--”

“Another accident? So that’s why it’s so crowded. There’s been a lot of those lately.”

Month: April. Day: 10 (Sunday Evening)

“The incoming train will soon arrive at platform 1, please wait patiently and do not cross the yellow line” 

Another busy day at Seoul station. People entering and exiting the train, some running while others take their time when suddenly a fast moving train continues to speed up even though it’s already in its destination causing it to derail when it turned.

People on the platform stood speechless as they stared at the train; continuing to accelerate at speeds above the limit. While the passenger freaked out and pray for their lives.

“Hey! What’s going on!?” One of the passengers asked as he keeps banging the train’s pilot door.

Little did they know, something ominous was happening inside. The train pilot seems to be in trance. Eyes all white shedding black tears, all of his veins were popping, and he’s also secreting black drool. A truly horrific scene.

From a cctv in the next station, it can be seen that the train was still speeding up and finally it totally derail and crash itself on the platform.

“That is direct footage of the incident this afternoon on Seoul station. According to the police, the train pilot’s life was not in danger and even he cannot explain the high speed of the train. No further comment was made.”  The news report reiterates what happened on the subway incident.

This news was being watched by the SIU director and what seems like a prosecutor. “It’s less of an operating accident and more of a crime of the company and the government.” The SIU director said. “Site inspectors apparently reported all of this six months ago-- the deterioration of the tracks and the ATC. Seems the railway company and the Ministry of Transport both turned a blind eye to the truth. There’s no way they can hide. This will go all the way to the top.”

“With this accident, everyone is in panic and confused on what is happening. What causes such drastic change to these people.” The reporter said.

“Everything’s linked-- that’s what you’re thinking, correct?” SIU asked  Prosecutor Kim. The SUI director heaved a sighed before smiling “Oh, well” he said “Are you free? You and I haven’t gone for a drink in a while.”

“Thank you, sir, but I have another meeting to attend. I must be going”  Prosecutor Kim declined his offer before bowing in respect and exiting the room

At the lobby of the building, a teenager wearing a uniform and carrying a briefcase approached Prosecutor Kim. “Did you ask for me? Is it about the case?” he said to Prosecutor Kim.

“Not quite. I want your opinion on something, Hoseok”

“Sure. Your judgment is quite often correct, though.” The teenager ‘Hoseok’ said. “Can we discuss this over sushi, perhaps? You are making a student work late, after all.” Hoseok pleaded while pouting his lips on Prosecutor Kim. “Conveyor belt only.” Prosecutor Kim said firmly. “Aw...” Hoseok heaved a disappointed sighed but still followed Prosecutor Kim.

End of- First Heist: Bae KyuSoo  (Chapter 1)

[mischiefandmagic6]

A Favor Only You Can Do

Well, fuck. I was so ready to finish a bunch of days and the motivation machine broke. On another note, my family is almost done with binging GoT. All we have is season 7 left. Now to the fic. As always, it is on AO3 with the rest of the month prompts.

Marinette frantically ran around her room. She had no clue if her design was to fit on a person. All her mannequins were female shaped and not male. If she were to push herself, then she needed to not make only women clothes. An idea formed in her head and she picked her phone up sending a quick text.

Ten minutes later, Adrien burst into her room. “Are you okay?” he asked,  out of breath and searching over her body.

“Yes,” she said, wondering why he looked frantic.

“What’s the emergency?”

“Oh,” It clicked in her mind, “not a literal emergency. I have a favor that only you can do.”

Adrien took a deep breath. “Okay, what do you need?”

“Can you help me model my clothes? I don’t have male mannequins,” she asked him.

“Sure, what do you need me to do?” He asked.

“Just to put this on as I make any adjustments.” She handed him a jacket to try on.

Carefully, Adrien slipped the jacket on. The pins were in securely, but it’s better safe than sorry.

The next hour and a half was spent with Marinette directing Adrien to move certain ways as she adjusted each part of the jacket. It wouldn’t have taken as long if Adrien hadn’t kept making faces or ridiculous poses.

“So who’s the jacket for?” He asked after he took the jacket off for the alterations.

“Right now, it’s for no one,” she said. “I’m just expanding my skills. Instead of making clothes for women, I’m attempting men’s.”

“And as you said, you don’t have a male mannequin,” he finished the statement.

“Correct,” she shook her hand when she poked a finger with the needle. “Thank you for helping me.”

Adrien sat down on her chaise. “It’s no problem. I was lucky that Father hadn’t scheduled anything for me.”

“Did you happen to drop what you were doing and run?”

“Possibly,” he said.

She gave him a look. “What did you drop?”

“Nothing important,” Adrien dismissed. “How are the alterations going?”

“Right now, they’re good. I’ll need you to put it back on after I finish so I can see if I got it correct,” she said as she turned her sewing machine on.

Since Adrien knew she got in the zone when she sewed, he messed around on his phone. She knew that he was watching cat videos.

It took an hour of sewing for her to finish the project. When she had told Adrien that the jacket was for no one, she lied. It was actually for him. He had complained that he didn’t have a jacket that could keep the cold out.

Marinette stood up with the jacket in hand. “Now for the final test: seeing if the jacket fits.”

“I’m sure it does,” Adrien said as he stood to put the jacket on.

The next few minutes were spent tugging and flattening the jacket, much to her embarrassment. There were some parts that needed more fine-tuning, but it worked well considering that she didn’t have his measurements.

“Seems like you did a good job,” he praised. He took the jacket off again, careful of the few pins on it.

“Thanks, I needed a challenge.” She set the jacket down and turned to Adrien. “How was your day before I pulled you here?”

“Eh, boring,” he plopped back down on her chaise. “Being here is way more enjoyable than the piano.”

“I wish I could play the piano,” she said. “Or any instrument really.”

Adrien shifted to face her, his face was lit up. “I could teach you if you want.”

“I don't want to trouble you any more,” Marinette tried to counter.

“Think of it as a favor for me,” he said. “I help you, you help me.”

She tried to figure out how that made sense. “How is you teaching me piano helping you?”

“It would make it more fun,” Adrien flipped on his back. “That's how you would help.”

Marinette hummed. “I guess I can’t argue with that logic.”

“I’m going to pretend that you actually meant that.”

“What should I learn first?” she asked through her giggles.

He sat up, said, “bring a notebook and pencil real quick, please,” and patted the space next to him.

She followed the instructions and turned to an empty page before handing it to him. He took it and drew ten lines spaced apart.

“What I’m going to show you is a scale,” he said as he drew dots and vertical lines. At the beginning of the scale, he drew an open brace and on the top set of lines, he drew what looked like an ‘and’ symbol and on the bottom set, a backwards ‘c’ with a colon next to it.

“This symbol is called a treble clef,” he tapped on the top line, “and this one is a bass clef,” he moved the pencil down to the bottom line.

“Why are there two clefs?” She asked, mentally taking notes.

“With the piano, you use both hands,” Adrien held his hands up. “The left one is for the bass and the right is the treble.”

“That makes sense,” Marinette took the pencil out of his hands to make a few notes on the paper. “So, why the open brace?”

“That makes it a grand staff,” he took the pencil back to write it down. “It joins the two clefs to make one piece of music. It’s also the harder notion to use.”

“I’m kind of getting this,” she said, leaning forward. “And I think I should probably learn the easy stuff first.”

He grinned sheepishly. “That would probably be the best and once you understand it, it does get easier in my experience.”

“Okay, now I know there are notes,” she smiled.

“There are,” he gave her a look. When she looked back at him, he turned back to the paper. There he wrote one set of lines on a new paper with a treble clef at the beginning. “Each note represents a letter. E,F,G,A,B,C,D,E,F.” Each letter was written down next to each note.

“I’m not going to be able to remember that,” she admitted. Sure, it was the alphabet but it all seemed to mesh together.

Adrien laughed. “There’s a saying that helps. Every good boy does fine and face.” He wrote it down on the paper. The first of each word on the first saying was capitalized and the word ‘face’ was in all caps.

“Oh!”

“It definitely helped me when I was beginning,” he said. “This is pretty much all I can teach you without an actual piano. The reading part kind of goes along with playing and the rhythms as well.”

“Good, my head was starting to swim,” Marinette joked.

“Oh, har har.” Adrien set the notebook next to him. “Soon enough it will make sense if you want to keep up.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He opened his mouth to say something when his phone went off. He held a finger up and went to the other side of her room to answer it.

Marinette stood to clean up the mess. She had placed the jacket on her desk when Adrien came back over.

“That was Nathalie,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have to go home.”

She sighed. “Thank you again for your help.”

“It’s not a problem. It was a favor,” Adrien reminded her.

With a smile, she lead him downstairs. She picked up a few pastries to give to him. “Don’t let Nathalie see this.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Adrien winked and pressed a kiss to her cheek before he left.

Her hand rose to her cheek. She may have to call more favors.

[atamascolily]

more fun stuff from Assault at Selonia by Roger MacBride Allen featuring Mara Jade

“Mara Jade? The trader? She has had many dealing with the Selonians. We know her well, and trust her.”

“Yeah, well, Mara Jade is a lot more than just a trader. Did you know that she used to be the Emperor’s Hand? The Emperor’s personal, private, secret agent and assassin?”

“No,” Dracmus said, clearly startled. “Do you speak truly?”

“Very much so,” Han replied, a trifle excitedly. “It also would explain how the bad guys managed to get hold of the Chief of State’s private diplomatic cipher. She used to be a spy. She knows how to get that kind of stuff.” He thought for a moment and then spoke again. “It all fits. Mara Jade brought us the message, and she gave us some long complicated story about how it got to her. From what was on the message container, it looked as if it had been meant for Luke Skywalker, but that they had used Mara as a backup when that failed. But what if that was all an elaborate charade—one that we bought into all the way?”

“You are suggesting Mara Jade brought a message she had written herself? That she is part of the starbuster plot?”

“Yes!” Han said. “And she was nowhere to be found the day Corona House was attacked.”

“Ah! Of this I can speak, and glad to do so, to defend the honor of Mara Jade, which I wish to do. She has been sighted in Corona House since day after rocket attack.”

YEAH DRACMUS SPEAKING UP FOR MY GIRL MARA JADE!

“But why would she do it? What would be motive?”

Han hooked a thumb at the cell door. “Our kindly hosts are very obviously all either ex-Imperial or people who just want the good old Imperial days back. Thrackan said as much to me. Now, I grant, she has done a lot of good for the Republic over the years, and she hasn’t gone around chanting the Emperor’s name out loud or anything, but Mara has never been one to show her hand. She always was good at keeping secrets. I doubt anyone is ever quite sure of what she intends. Suppose, just suppose, that Mara has changed her mind again. What if she’s decided she wants the Empire back after all? Maybe she looks at Corellian and figures you have to start somewhere. I grant it’s a little hard to believe, but it seems to me we’re in the position of having to choose between improbable explanations.”

“The idea has logic, but does not convince,” said Dracmus. “I do agree Jade is hard-edged, ruthless. But she has honor, and we speak of wiping out whole planets. Could she truly be capable of such brutal savagery?”

Han nodded. “I grant you have a point. She’s always been tough, and hard, but never barbaric. I can’t see her as the sort to murder millions. But maybe we don’t have the whole story. We might be missing something. Remember the first nova didn’t hurt anyone. Maybe the threat to inhabited systems is a bluff.”

Okay, so admittedly Han has been having a rather bad time of things in this particular series, but still... even he has to admit it’s kinda improbable for Mara to be the Big Bad, LOL. 

Then Dracmus drops the bomb:

But I hope you are all wrong, honored Solo. I truly do.”

“Why, Dracmus?”

“It is not obvious? If she is behind this plot, she has quite deliberately arranged things so she is where she is right now, to be where she can do the plot the most good.”

“What’s your point?” Han asked.

“Right now,” she said, “Mara Jade is in same place with your wife.”

The look on Han’s face at that moment has got to be priceless.

CUT TO: Leia Organa Solo under house arrest, yelling at her guard:

Just before he reached the door, he turned back and spoke again. “Oh,” he said, “I almost forgot. We’re rearranging the cells. Seems one female prisoner had a fight with another. Gotta divide ’em up. Right after lunch, you get a new cell mate.” The guard laughed one more time as he stepped out into the hallway.

Leia heard the lock snick shut behind him. She always heard the lock. Why was it the one thing this bunch of incompetents always remembered to do was lock the door?

LOLOLOL. This is even funnier in context, because Han and Dracmus are also in prison and were paired together as cellmates because their captors were expressly hoping they’d fight with each other.

The tableau held for a moment longer, but then Mara made the first move. “Hello, Leia,” she said, stepping forward and nodding her head very slightly, her tone and behavior formal, even if she called Leia by her first name. “It is good to see you.” She made no effort to offer her hand, or come closer. She looked cool, calm, well-fed, well rested. The troubles of the last few days—if they had indeed been troublesome days for her—had left no mark on her. Mara was tall and slender, with a dancer’s body and grace. Her red-gold hair flowed over her shoulders, set off by the plain black tailored jumpsuit she wore.

“And it’s good to see you,” Leia said, not quite sure if she was lying or not. She turned and went back around the table, and retook her seat there, if for no other reason than to break up the awkward scene. “However I must admit I am surprised.”

“I think it would be a bit more accurate to say you’re not quite sure what to think,” Mara said evenly, taking a seat opposite Leia at the table. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be wondering about me. You’re no fool, and neither am I. I can see all the reasons you might suspect me. Nothing I can say will convince you that I had no role in all this. I don’t know how strong your Jedi powers are, but I doubt they are strong enough for a complete probe of my mind.”

“Not one that I’d have any faith in,” Leia admitted.

“So there we are,” Mara concluded.

“Are you saying I’ll just have to trust you?”

Mara shrugged. “Trust me to do what? We’re not allies in this, so far as I know. The one thing we can both be sure we have in common is that we’d both like to escape.”

“Can I even be sure of that?” Leia asked.

Mara smiled. “Yes,” she said. “You can. I want out of here. The longer I am cooped up here, the worse it will be for my trading business. You’ve never known me to be shy about admitting my personal interests. I’m losing time and money sitting here.”

“And that’s supposed to satisfy me.”

“No,” said Mara, “but it’s all I’ve got. I’m not involved in this madness, but how can I prove a negative?”

Leia looked long and hard at Mara. She had the very strong impression that Mara could say more if she wished, but it was clear she was not going to say another word on the subject. “What can you tell me about what’s going on out there?”

“Not much,” Mara said. “I’ve been locked up three doors down. My ex-roommate accused me of being a League sympathizer, it got a little sticky, and so here I am. I haven’t heard anything more than you.”

Rule #1: do not fuck with Mara Jade, she will hurt you.

What follows is some pretty epic Leia and Mara team-up as they escape from their prison cell by means of a bedsheet rope and clamber through a ruined building to fetch the slave circuit remote for the Jade’s Fire and ride their way to freedom.

They tied one end of the improvised rope around the bed frame. Leia tied an improvised climbing harness onto herself, snaked the bedsheet rope through it, then climbed up onto the windowsill and threw the end of the rope out the window.

“Wish me luck,” she said to Mara.

“Oh, I do,” Mara said. “After all, I get to go next.”

They make it to Leia’s old apartment and she’s able to retrieve a lightsaber that Luke made for her - please note it’s red! - and a blaster for Mara. Mara shoots a guard wandering through, and they keep going.

Leia shut her own eyes as she unclipped the lightsaber from her belt and activated it. The weapon came alive with the familiar low thrum of power. Even through her closed eyelids, the light from the blade seemed remarkably bright after the gloom and darkness. She gave her eyes a moment to adjust, and then opened them cautiously, being careful not to look at the lightblade itself. She held the blade vertically and looked around the foyer, now lit by the ruby-red glow of the lightsaber.

“First time I’ve ever seen one of those used for a handlamp,” Mara said.

“You work with what you’ve got,” Leia said. “There’s the door to the stairs. Let’s go.”

THAT’S A LIE, MARA,  everyone uses their lightsaber as a glowrod (just like everybody uses their phone as a flashlight IRL) but whatever, LOL.

“Leia!” Mara shouted over the roar of the flames. “Get ready. I’m not sure how close I’ll be able to fly her in, but the second she’s close enough, jump! You might not get a second chance. If you get aboard, go to the pilot’s station and be ready to take control once I’m aboard!”

“Will do!” Leia shouted, and watched as the Jade’s Fire rushed closer. She was a bigger ship than Leia had expected, significantly larger than the Millennium Falcon. She was a craft of graceful lines. She had a snubbed-off nose and a wide fuselage that blended into the two thick elliptical wings. She was painted in a flame-pattern of oranges and red. Leia certainly wouldn’t want to try flying anything that size up to the side of a building by remote. And it looked like the job was giving Mara just a bit of trouble at that. The Fire slowed as it came nearer, and wobbled a bit in flight. Turbulence.

Mara swore under her breath and made the slightest of adjustments to the controls. The Fire slowed down even more, and eased down just a trifle, bringing the top of the craft more or less even with the window ledge. Mara brought her in to a complete halt in midair, about fifty meters from the ledge. At that moment a blaster fired from one of the upper windows of Corona House. The shot pinged off the Fire’s hull. A door opened in the top of the fuselage and a gun turret popped out. It immediately swiveled about and returned fire. “Shoot-back system,” Mara shouted before Leia could ask. “Automatically returns fire at anything that shoots at it. Which reminds me. Don’t do any more shooting yourself, or that thing will paste you for sure.”

Remember rule #1, y’all? She will hurt you.

Oh, man it’s been ages since I’ve read this book and there’s a lot to mine from a fic perspective here.

[ultimavolatusrpg]

ACCEPTED // LUCUS TERRAN

35 years old, 76th Hunger Games, FC: Manny Montana

Perspicacious, Enigmatic, Genuine, Honest and Dauntless

tw: violence, death ( parent death and in general ), murder, birds, blood

THE ARENA

The 76th Hunger Games were an incredibly ambitious and horribly complex design by a game maker with an overly active imagination. Six floating mountains with no solid ground beneath giants of rock covered in dense greenery, mysterious overgrown ruins and waterfalls that fell off these floating behemoths into nothingness. Each of the six mountains were split into two different zones (reflecting each district) with special surprises in each of those zones.

As the game makers would have it these larges floating mountains were a straight drop below the floating island the Cornucopia rested upon which itself was a seemingly steep dive from the supports each tribute would stand upon. A treacherous dive to reach gear, weapons and other such supplies. The dive to the Cornucopia would surely kill some of them, those that missed it entirely causing them to fall beneath the cloud cover to be immediately surprised by encountering massive floating mountains below. At first the design would seem to guarantee the games would last for months but to ensure maximum shock value each surface a tribute landed upon had a timer. Once that timer expired the mountain or island would either crumble beneath their feet or release something even worse. Carnivorous birds, swarms of tracker jackers, crazed mutt-monkeys, snake, rats, pests, ruins designed to drive a tribute made the further they delved into the. Additionally – escaping the mountains for another you encounters powerful gusts of wind, storms, and the underside of each mountain with jagged rock faces and walls of water. Nothing short of magical to wow the crowds of the Capitol who demanded something different. It was a floating, paradisiac hell - a wondrous optical illusion convincing the tributes there was no border and no defined ‘earth’ only land too dangerous at times to stand on and skies to terrible to get caught flying in or too far away from when wind would only shoot you back.

In light of their grand idea – each tribute was outfit with a wingsuit, two clicks of a fist against their chest would cause wings to open and enable the ability to fly. A few more clicks would enable them to increase or decrees in altitude but wings would start to falter and fail if a tribute went too high and once a wingsuit was broken there was no replacing it ( unless you pulled one off a dead tribute before they were taken away. They were engineered with the idea to make tributes move like birds of prey, give them the feel like they were and some skill would be required to actually do anything but fall to their deaths ( because of course there was secretly a bottom ).

One final secret on how they were able to maintain the illusion of bottomlessness was something akin to a vertical wind tunnel, islands that did actually rise and a few other trade secrets to pull off the trick. Needless to say it was enormously expensive but it was an arena that assured no true advantage to anyone but maximum entertainment value. Enduring of all that and nearly dying several times not counting the times something tried to eat him and certainly paying for it in blood – not a single soul alive doubts he more than earned his status as victor.

BIOGRAPHY

There is a strange sensation that occurs above the thousands of trees, past the trouble and branches of the world below and beyond where birds nest and peacekeepers go. Some fools would say just a little farther if given wings to fly you could touch heaven and see as far as the eye could see. It was dangerous to go so far up, especially if you were to get caught not that you could go anywhere but down. That sensation though drove tingles up your spine as lungs fill with fresh air and you imagine what freedom is like. You dream up there. A young boy remembers that feeling as he holds his younger brother’s hand knowing he’s frightened as they lead the children into the square. Then again what wasn’t there to be frightened about your first reaping? Lucus could smell the fear dripping off his little brother in rivulets of sweat, hearing his mother’s dying words like a whisper on the wind. ‘Protect him always. He may be brawnier but you’re smart and your roots go deep. Use your brain, not always your firsts and you stay alive for me sapling. Be strong, for both of you one day. Never let them separate you for two branches are harder to break then one’. For a second Lucus believes she’s there with him – watching over her boys from the heavens above where only birds dare to fly. For a moment he realizes the promise he’ll have to break to honor her wishes. If they call Rowan’s name who else will scream I volunteer as tribute but his elder brother? Who else will fight for the orphan if not Lucus? Who else would sacrifice themselves so Rowan can see the space above the trees and dream?

Before we get too much ahead of ourselves, to the games and beyond even the moments that will shortly play out before the two sons of Willow and Arborius Terran things must be clarified. After all there is a story hidden within a story and a background needed to be put properly into place to understand the future. For the brothers Terran – the world they would be born to was one no child deserved to be thrust. For monsters ruled paradise and angels were left defenseless when husbands were cut down liked trees in a world unable to forget. District Seven was a beautiful place and those great many laboring loggers that lived there who were brave enough to boast dared to call it the most beautiful off all twelve. At least it was certainly the greenest, maybe sickeningly so with trees as far as the eye could see and no shortage of leaves. One only wishes they could report before the reaping of the 76th games that boys were given an opportunity to be boys. Sadly, one must report to the contrary.

For a time yes there was happiness. Cradling a small babe to his chest, carefully concealing the child as the gifted lumberjack climbed, Arborius would bring a young Lucus up into the trees. As he got bigger and Willow was heavily pregnant with Rowan, Arborius would tell grand tales, spout poetry or teach his eldest son to see beyond to the edge of the world, past the horizon and to dream. They were alright and had Arborius lived to see his second son reach his third year could anyone say Lucus would be the same creature he is today? Officially, Arborius’ death was called a tragic accident made by a young woodsman who made a critical mistake. Rumors however err towards the idea a jealous peacekeeper coveted his wife and wanted the man out of the way. They would be surprised that Willow never married again nor did she open her bed to any other occupant peacekeeper or not. She instead took up the mantel as provider and eventually was aided by her young but eldest son when he came of age strong enough to wield an axe. Then working tirelessly got to her and she became sick dying three years after that. She waited to give her message to Lucus before her body gave out and they were taken in by the state.

Quickly little boys learned to fight, scrappy little spitfires that they were. Very few times did one of them go to bed without raw knuckles or a broken something triumphant or not. Lucus, being the oldest though took the vow made to his mother to heart. He protected that boy though and little Rowan always had his back. They weren’t meant to be raised like this or even taught to kill but that was life and it was to be accepted. Even then when it could be believed they would be as dumb as a box of rocks – Lucus was incredibly sharp and did his job well after all one had to be reasonably skilled to be the high climber. When not working to exhaustion be buried himself in books or in the tree tops humming to birds and challenging Rowan to climb before the caught them and made them go back to the home or worse whipped them for breaking curfew. Even during what had been the worst of times, when children weren’t allowed to be children, he still chipped out time to dream and feed the ideas few others harbored.

Letting go now of Rowan’s hand reluctantly, Lucus whispered not to worry. They’ll be back chopping logs and splitting wood in no time and he can teach him about girls too. If there was a higher power out there certainly they’d have mercy just once on the brothers Terran. Even now as a much older man Lucus remembers the sound of his name reverberating through his skull not fully registering until the butt of a baton prodded his backside shoving him forward. It wasn’t Rowan they called as Lucus feared but him. Just as it finally hit him was he taken back to the place of dreaming in his head to watch it’s figurative destruction. How could their ever be freedom in a world that was willing to watch children kill each other for sport? How could the ‘benevolent’ capitolites be so blind or willing to sit idly by?

Gods above and below – Lucus vividly remembers every moment of his arrival, training and games. He chooses to remember because the Capitol would try to dress it in glamorous fashion even call his games one of the most exciting to watch in years. He remembers because it was not a glorious triumph, it was not an honor it was horrible. He remembers because if he has anything to say about it  - it reminds him never to underestimate a foe and that he is bigger than his demons and they should be afraid of what they made him. You would have to be well not even Rowan to know any of that. Arriving in the arena was a surreal experience. To be surrounded by your stylist team one moment, stepping into a tube the next to come up standing on one of twenty-four pieces of floating rock with no other discernable landmass but the Cornucopia below the next. That in itself was a total mind fuck for plenty of people curious if this were some sort of joke wanting them to fight in mid-air. Two tributes at the sounding of the start failed to remember the instructions given to open their suits and completely missed the small island the Cornucopia was situated on with two very loud canons. Other tributes didn’t stick landings and rolled ankles and smack the side of things not much time was given for them to run towards what all would assume would be a bloodbath. Yet as Lucus and one of the Careers rocketed towards the center the ground began to give way. Barely able to snatch his choice of weapon and a survival backpack the world came apart from underneath them. If your hand wasn’t on something as the Cornucopia lifted up past a point where wing suits would go and the island crumbled you were grappling midair to take something before splitting through cloud cover to an unknown.

Grabbing the girl from 7 as her suit failed her trying to rise for the lifting Cornucopia when they pierced the clouds they nearly wiped out on the side of a mountain, crash landing on one of the six watching as two – three more collided head on with mountains floating in midair, or hitting a wall of water to flick into the underside of one of these behemoths. Five were gone and as the remaining tributes collected themselves, formed plans of attack and schemed Lucus actually learned her name. Aspen – the other tribute from 7. Not that he noticed her before or paid attention during all the work beforehand but after nearly dying now holding a completely rattled fourteen year-old he thought she was pretty. That was the other reason he so vividly remembers. He also remembers kissing her between massive carnivorous birds trying to eat them and attempting to fly through a storm the third day to escape mutt-monkeys. Little did they know they’d landed on another mountain teaming with even more dangerous things – careers. That was a bloodbath and that was when Lucus watched Aspen die. He barely escaped with a failing suit himself doing a nose dive tangled up with one of the tributes from 2. All of Panem held its breath as they smacked into a dense forest as one of the mountains shifted. Getting free Lucus went into a dead sprint towards a ruined structure before them with the career giving hot pursuit. The next thing one heard other than the voices Lucus wasn’t sure if they were in his head or not was the sound of canon fire and Lucus dragging a body. Peeling a wing-suit off a dead man -  he looked across to another floating giant as it crumbled watching other assorted mutations take a few more tributes with them as the mountain died. Four more days with increasingly worse conditions to survive through including a series of natural disasters and other creepy crawly things that tried to eat him the final horn was sounded. Lucus killed the last tribute who was barely older than Rowan having done things he never imagined he’d do just to stay alive.

Lauded as a great hero, paying for his victory laurel in no shortage of blood and death, Lucus was changed. He had in a roundabout way kept his promise to protect Rowan but at what cost to him? Just as his mouth was about to open, his own mentor placed a hand on his shoulder and told him ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you son. You lived, your brother is safe but if you learned anything from what you just survived they could just as easily put down a dog. Don’t give them the satisfaction.’ So.. Lucus didn’t. He never would. So with the resources just given to him and the ability to live a comfortable life Lucus made himself anew. More so then ever did he dislike the games but play along dreaming of a different world but cautious now. Quite honestly that is where knowledge of him actually ends. Go through a million highlight reels and specials and you’ll think you know the enigmatic one. That you know secrets when even his own personal life is fraught with them. He’s got plenty of rough edges and buttons not to push these days – Lucus pretends a great deal projecting this fearless and ambiguous self-seeming to care about little beyond Rowan and maybe a handful of things that interest him like books, fine wine, plaid and art. He’s made it clear he will not be fucked with by putting forth such a person into this world.

Truthfully for people smart enough to read through the lines and discern the real person behind a quiet and mildly prickly demeanor – Lucus is genuine in all he does. The man has no qualms about telling you where to go, how to get there and what information he’s willing to share. You can see it in the way he gives tough love or in a touch with more fragile victors or the ones he’s trained that have made it back alive… Under the mystery and the crust – he’s honest and good. Learned. Talented. Hell if you knew him well enough and what to look for even down right sweetly compassionate and tender. Buried deep is that boy who lived to dream and loving brother who’d do anything to take care of his own. Most see very little of that and that is the point to it. Lucus Terran is neither good nor bad but something else. He’s different These days between episodes of appearing not to care and little bouts of a rare exposure of his true self - he hears things. Observes where others believe themselves to be hidden when he owns a portion of the shadows. Some in Panem, even here in the Victor’s Village share a similar dream as the boy in the trees who saw beyond what man could see. What a strange and illusive dream freedom is. Not all men dream equally and no man is quite like Lucus Terran thats if you believe…

PENNED BY: EDEN

[justlovemewrite]

shallow waters [m]

title: shallow waters member: xiumin length: 12k genres: smut, mild angst?

a/n: inspired by all that lovely photo of xiumin in a pool! this took me a day and a half to write, but it was like....worth it. for pool!min. you know what i mean. please also see this 

this fic is pretty focused on swimming and water related things, and mentions fear of water and swimming-related anxiety. please be careful if this content bothers you! for more details, shoot me a message also: i can’t swim, like... i really can’t. message me any corrections if they pop up? 

also: spot the cameo! most aren’t named, but i think they’re pretty obvious...?

The water circled your legs as you lightly kicked back and forth. You liked the water like this most, when it was nowhere near your face.

You shook your head, pushing the thought out. That was a bad way to think—your previous instructor, Jimin, had emphasised that in all your classes with her. Being afraid of the water made you tense, and being tense made it more difficult to swim, she had said. The water was not your enemy, you recited mentally, kicking at it a bit. The water was your friend and would help you, not hinder you, if you just let it.

You let out a long breath through your nose. You were here to become a confident swimmer who didn't flinch the minute water neared your face or nose. And you were definitely going to get there.

Just as soon as the pool cleared out.

You raised your sight from your own legs, trying to relax them a bit. Around you, parents and children began to clear out as the previous lesson wound down. Some others were walking around that you recognised as other instructors. There were only four students in total for this slot of the class, and you had only spoken to each of them once before given your nerves before every lesson. You had gotten here earlier today in an attempt to relax yourself a little before the start of your class—well, among other reasons—but hadn't realised your class was immediately after a previous lesson held for children.

Minseok, your instructor, apparently also taught a class for the children, and had told you to wait on the side if you liked. So you'd showered, changed, and were now waiting.

You caught his eye from across the room as he waved goodbye to an excited kid. He didn't stop talking, but he did shoot you a quick smile. You held your own smile in place, ignoring the nervous flutter in your stomach at his smile.

You instructor—Minseok, as he had told you to call him—was hot. Everything about him, from his vaguely feline face to the toned body that was always on display in his swimming shorts, was attractive. Even his confidence, and his hair. You didn't know how it was still in as good state as it was, given he swam all the time and without covering his hair, but you had seen him with it dry, and it looked so soft. You had spent the entire time talking to him with your hand clenched into fists so you didn't accidentally do something embarrassing like try to touch it.

The point was: Kim Minseok was hot.

He hadn't always been your instructor, or you would probably have walked out the minute you entered. You got nervous around water, and having a really hot guy teaching you wouldn't make you comfortable. But when you had first found this swimming lesson, you had been assigned to a friendly, talkative woman called Jimin. She had been good with you, and you had gotten through the early lessons—which had mostly involved getting you at ease in the water, and breathing exercises, like making bubbles—well enough that you had started to feel confident.

And then the week after you had come in to see Jimin in a cast, full of apologies and introducing you to her replacement—Kim Minseok.

But by then you had been determined... and also could definitely not back out now lest you lost all the money you had already paid, the refund period long over. As your best friend, the person you blamed for this entire decision, had said, you weren't going to back out once you've paid.

Minseok was waving in your direction, and you blinked yourself out of your thoughts and stood, making your way over to him. The poolside area had almost emptied out, and you saw one of the other students of this batch, a tall man who seemed either irritated, or nervous, it was tough to tell with his frown; already getting into the water. The class was one-to-one, which was why you had booked this one rather than some considerably cheaper alternatives.

"Everyone's almost gone," Minseok said as you got to him, "You can get into the water if you'd like, warm up a bit. You remember your breathing exercises, right?" You nodded yes. "Great. I'll be with you in a bit then."

You nodded. Your corner of the pool was shallow, and right next to the stairs, with a clear view of where Minseok was standing. You lowered yourself into the water slowly. It was cool and pleasant, and you shivered slightly as it reached your back, then gave yourself a second to adjust to the temperature change. Your swimming goggles went over your eyes, and you tucked the ends of your hair back into your swimming cap. When you were standing upright the water only reached your waist, which was good—you took a moment to orient yourself, placing one hand on the edge of the pool.

Minseok was right there. He wasn't looking directly at you, but he was there, along with two other instructors who all knew exactly what to do if you needed and help or had trouble. You would be fine. The water wasn't going to hurt you as long as you worked with it.

You took a deep breath through the nose, and bent at the knees until your head was submerged. You counted down from five, then straightened up. Your eyes had clenched shut, and you sighed. Forcing them open, you saw that Minseok was looking straight at you. He gave you a quick thumbs up, and you took a deep breath and nodded. You could do this. Hopefully without forcing your eyes shut this time.

The rest of the breathing drills went as Jimin had taught you. You repeated each one five times before you got to the last one, which involved holding onto the pool's edge, getting vaguely horizontal, and submerging your face. This was the one that alarmed you the most, because you were not good at getting horizontal and staying that way—but you were holding the pool wall, and had done this before, and could do it today, too. You moved through that drill as well, and when you rose from your first round of it, Minseok was climbing into the water. He waited next to you until you had finished your five repetitions, then beamed at you when you stood, looking at him.

"Good job with the breathing exercises! How do you feel?"

You smiled, letting out a sigh. You felt good, surprisingly; you had gotten through all the drills with minimal stress, which was nice. You moved through these faster and with less anxiety every time, but it was still nice to feel the difference from the previous week. "Good, actually!"

Minseok grinned, and you couldn't help but grin along. His smile was wide, gummy, and infectious—and made him look eight times as cute as usual. He clapped once. "Great! So we're going to move on to floating?" You cursed under your breath—of course his enthusiasm was for your learning. Focus.

You nodded. "Yes! I'm ready."

Minseok took a step back to make space, and you moved away from the wall of the pool. Taking a deep breath, you looked at him for reassurance, and he nodded, encouraging smile in place. Then, slowly, you started to recline into a horizontal position. Minseok's hand came to rest on your back as he helped you until you were effectively lying on the water, with the exception of your legs, which were planted firmly on the ground. You focused on the presence of his hand at your back, making sure you wouldn't go under.

Minseok hummed, tapping at your left leg. You breathed out  through your nose as the water lapped around your ears, inducing a vaguely anxious feeling in your stomach. "You're doing good," Minseok said slowly. "Now, slowly, bring your legs up." You hummed in response, but your stomach was now in your ankles. Figuratively speaking. You couldn't lift your feet off the ground—it felt as though they were weighted down by anchors. Minseok could evidently see your struggle with it, because he tapped your leg again. "Try one, then the other. You can do it."

You let out a shuddering breath, then tried again, managing to get one foot off the ground. Almost immediately, though, you started turning vertical—Minseok pressed his other hand to your stomach, turning you horizontal again. "Now the other," he said.

The soles of your feet slowly left the ground, but once it was just your toes keeping that minimal contact with the floor, you couldn't lift it more. Your foot wouldn't budge, and you swallowed. It was just you keeping it there, you knew, but somehow you just couldn't lift your foot.

"I can't," you said, voice weak to your own ears. Minseok shook his head.

"You can. Look, I'm holding onto you. Would I let you sink?"

The answer to that was definitely a no. You let out another huffed breath and slowly lifted your foot off the ground—

—and immediately, your upper body dipped down.

The panic rushed in immediately as your ears went under the water, and everything you had learned about breathing underwater was gone. Minseok was there immediately, moving closer to you. With one hand on your back and the other on your stomach, he waited until you were lying parallel to the water once again before loosening his grip. "There," he said, after a moment.

You nodded, trying to steady your mind. The water was not your enemy. You just had to work with it. Your own body was over 60% water; you wouldn't sink. "I'm fine," you said once you were sure.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice low. You hummed your agreement. He took a step away so he wasn't quite so close to you (a shame)(no, not a shame—he was your instructor, he was just helping you). "I'm going to let go of you now."

You grabbed onto his arm. "No!"

Was that pity you saw on Minseok's face? No, no, he wouldn't pity you. He had surely taught lots of others, and probably others who were just as scared of the water. Behind Minseok, the tall frowny guy was looking at you as he paddled in the water. Your no had been loud. Embarrassment was like a burning coal in your gut.  You looked back at Minseok, loosening your grip on his arm. "You can do this," he repeated. You pursed your lips together.

His hands slowly left your body, first the one on your stomach, then the one on your back, sliding away from you. You tried to loosen your muscles, release the tension from your muscles like Jimin had shown you at your first lesson with her. It didn't work—the minute his hand was gone, you were sinking.

Your mouth opened, then shut so water wouldn't immediately rush in. Your feet started to go back down—and were stopped by Minseok's hands.

The nerves flittered away once his hands were back on you, holding you in place. The nerves fluttered away, replaced by frustrated embarrassment. You shouldn't have to depend on him. Definitely not for something as basic and integral as floating.

"It's fine," Minseok said, apparently able to see your frustration. He let you up, tapping your legs once. You raised yourself to a stand. Having your feet on solid ground eased the paranoia in your stomach, but did nothing for the irritation. "Everyone takes time. Floating isn't easy."

"It's basic," you said, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Basic doesn't mean easy," Minseok said, frowning.

"Right," you said, but your heart wasn't in it. You knew you would take time to learn to swim, but you had thought by week five of ten, you would at least be able to do—you didn't know. Something more than struggle to float. You didn't want to be swimming marathons or anything, you just wanted to be confident and comfortable in the water.

Minseok could obviously sense your sinking—ha—mood, because he made a noise. "Okay, how about you watch me do it?"

You hesitated, then shrugged; it couldn't hurt, could it? At your agreement, Minseok gestured to himself as he moved to reclining, then let his feet off the ground. He was floating in no time at all. You frowned.

"Look, here." He took one of your hands and placed them on his abdomen. It was—very firm. You bit your lip. What was he showing you, exactly? Probably not his muscles. You tore your eyes away from his torso, looking back at his face. Was that a hint of a smile you saw there? No—no, probably not. You had to focus. He was just trying to teach you to swim. "Feel that? You're tensing, like that. You need to try to let go. Like that." His muscles clenched and unclenched below your palm.

You were pretty sure you were feeling him up without intending to. Focus.

"I know," you whined. "I'm trying to unclench, but... it's not working."

Minseok straightened, fluid and graceful. You couldn't help the second of regret as his toned chest disappeared from under your palm—but emerged in front of you, now with drops of water trailing down it.

You pulled your eyes up to his face. You really needed to stop thinking of your instructor like this. So what if he was hot, he was still your instructor. The person who was going to get you past your fear of water. The person whom you were paying, if indirectly.

"Let's try again," Minseok said. You nodded. Focus.

A week and another class later, you had gotten... nowhere, effectively. You were in a foul mood as you showered, frustrated with yourself. Why couldn't you just be better at this? You weren't slow at learning, usually; you picked up things quick, and that just made your inability to do anything related to swimming feel worse.

It was a continuing trend. In your first class, you had barely managed keeping your face below water long enough to make bubbles, despite Jimin's several demonstrations and encouragement. Now, you could do that almost easily. That should have been relieving—but it wasn't. That had been your first class, of course you couldn't figure it out immediately. This was your sixth, leaving just another four lessons.

And this week had been even worse than the previous week. While attempting to float, water had entered your nostrils. This was not a bad thing, according to both Jimin and Minseok, but. You had freaked out, and inhaled—leading to a coughing fit. Minseok had stood behind you and rubbed your back. Everyone else in the room had stared. After that, you could barely concentrate on anything past the burning in your nasal passage, the embarrassment of everyone in the room having seen you panic like that. Relaxing enough to float was beyond you; you had barely managed the kicking drills you were supposed to do while holding onto something, in this case, Minseok's hands.

You were almost regretting your whole decision to sign up for these lessons. You might have made some progress since your first lesson, but was it worth it if you came out of them without having overcome your anxiety around water? Sure, one of your lessons had been lost to the reintroduction to a new instructor, but it had still been six weeks—six classes. Over a month.

This was all Seungwan's fault. Your best friend and roommate was the one who had pushed you to take swimming lessons after a supposed-to-be fun trip to the beach had soured fast. She had encouraged you to take the class, finding a flier for it and slapping it on the table in front of you. It was expensive, she argued, but it was personalised, and wouldn't it be worth it when you could go to the beach and step into the water without constantly being aware of waves? Wouldn't it be nice when you could join people in the water instead of just lying on the sand, which wasn't even fun? What was the point of all your cute swimwear if you never swam in it?

Well, you had agreed with her then, but today you were going to fight her as soon as you were home. This was all her fault.

You dressed back into your ordinary clothes, stuffing your swimsuit and towel in a bag. You ignored the mucky feeling under your toes as you stepped into your flip-flops, trudging out of the showers.

Minseok met you at the entrance to the showers, in ordinary clothes himself now. He looked good, in a muscle tee that emphasised his arms in a way his being bare-chested never did. It was irritating. He smiled cheerfully, and you tried to summon a smile out of nowhere for him. You failed, because his own smile faltered.

"Leaving?" Minseok asked. He almost looked nervous for the first time since you had met him; you frowned.

"Yeah," you agreed. "And you? Any more lessons?"

He shook his head. "No, this is my last today."

You nodded, and he fell into step beside you as you both went over to the pool reception. You had to sign in a register that you had in fact had a lesson today, and the sinking feeling in your stomach from earlier returned with a vengeance as you saw that you had filled out most of the columns on the page. You could feel Minseok's eyes on you as you signed, and you wondered if he was going to try to convince you into more.

You wouldn't agree, of course not. It wasn't worth it.

As you got to the entrance, Minseok turned to you, hands in his pockets. "This was your sixth class, right?"

Of course. You shouldn't be upset, considering you had known this would be coming at some point. It was standard for instructors to ask if you were interested in more classes. Why had you thought Minseok would be different? Because you were attracted to him? Because you thought you were becoming—friendly, at least? That was ridiculous. "Yes," you said.

"I was wondering..." He ran his hand through his hair, sighed. You swallowed down your frustration. "As you've been having some trouble..."

"I don't—"

"Would you be alright with some private lessons?" You blinked. Private lessons? You echoed the words after him, and he shrugged. "Private lessons. I don't really do this, but you seem to be having some problems with people looking at you. And I can see that this means a lot to you. A lot of people just give up, I've had clients who disappear when something gets too hard. That's fine, but because you're clearly invested in this, and your lessons are winding down... if you're interested, I could give you some extra lessons on the side, so you can figure this out? Apart from our usual."

You kept frowning. The offer didn't seem real. You opened your mouth, then shut it, not sure what to say.

He added: "For free."

You shook your head. "Minseok, I couldn't possibly—"

"No, listen. I know our lessons are expensive. And I have the pool to myself Friday nights anyway. If you want to, and I understand if you refuse, it wouldn't be a bother to me."

You opened your mouth. It was tempting, of course it was, but... were you really going to impose on his time? Time that, most likely, was for himself? For lessons he was giving for free? It wasn't that you didn't trust him; though the offer itself from anyone else might have made you uncomfortable, Minseok you knew you could trust. That may be silly, but he was just that sort of person. Besides, he was right: you were having a problem with people looking at you. Every time you couldn't do something that all the others around you were doing just fine, or every time you made a noise and someone looked your way, you wanted to run away. Private lessons—more private than these were—would be a blessing.

But...

"You don't have to say yes or no immediately. Let me know if you're interested?"

You nodded. "I will," you said.

You probably wouldn't.

Your seventh class came and went. You managed to float on your own for all of two seconds, before the water surrounded you. When you left the pool for a second to drink water—ironic—Tall and Frowny asked if you were alright. Minseok was talking to Tall and Frowny's instructor, frowning about something himself.

While leaving, you told Minseok you would meet him on Friday.

Friday night was cool, but pleasant. From a distance, the building seemed to be dark, except for by the reception area, which let out a dim light into the night. You hesitated outside the building for a second, worried you had gotten the wrong time—he had said nine, right? You checked your phone, and yes, he had definitely said nine. Clutching onto your bag, you made your way toward the entrance, relaxing a touch when you noticed Minseok there.

He was talking to the receptionist, a flirty man who liked to call you affectionate terms when you signed in. Minseok looked—good. This wasn't a surprise at any level, but you had never seen him looking this good before. Had you? He was wearing glasses, which you had never seen him in, and his arm was curled around the strap of a small bag that presumably held his clothes. The pose, though it looked entirely natural, emphasised he muscles of his arm. He was laughing at something the receptionist had presumably just said, and you couldn't help but appreciate the way his eyes crinkled as he laughed. You couldn't hear it, but it looked like ha ha ha.

You shook yourself. You were here for a lesson. He was still your teacher.

Minseok noticed you as you pushed the door open, and he waved. "Ah, you're here! Great."

The receptionist—B-something?—grinned at you, placing one hand on his palm. "Finally. I've been waiting to make sure his guest is here so I can go home."

You gave them an embarrassed smile. You were a few minutes late, but you hadn't anticipated that someone would have been waiting for you to arrive. Apart from Minseok, of course. "Sorry to have made you wait. It's a bit of a walk from my place."

Chatty Receptionist frowned, turning from you to Minseok. "You made her walk? What kind of gentleman—"

You cut him off. "It's fine! Really. I walk here all the time." That was not strictly the truth; you had only come to this pool the few times you had for your official lessons, and once before then for the registration, making eight in all. But you did know the way.

Minseok was frowning. "I didn't realise."

Chatty Receptionist shrugged. "You're here now, so I will go. You have the keys." He nodded meaninfully at Minseok, who nodded with a small smile, before looking back at you.

"Should we go in?"

You followed him in, looking around you as you went. The building looked completely different by night. Most of your lessons were in the afternoon, and while the pool was then also lit primarily by artificial lights, it didn't feel enclosed. Right now, most of the lights were off, and it transformed the place. The corridor seemed to go on forever, and you could only make out the deep blue doors—currently looking mostly grey—when Minseok pushed through them. The pool area itself was dimly lit, the grey light bouncing off the water.

It should have looked spooky, but it did not. It just looked vaster.

"I'll get changed," you told Minseok. He nodded, and you left toward the showers.

You had showered before you left your home, so you simply changed into your swimsuit. After shooting Seungwan a quick text to let her know you were there, you put your phone back in your bag, and came out of the changing area toward the pool.

Minseok was already in the pool when you emerged. He gestured to your usual corner with his head, and you nodded. Silently, you made your way to your corner, climbing into the pool and working your way through your breathing drills like you would any other lesson. Minseok took laps across the pool, and once you were done, you leaned against the wall to watch him.

He moved with fluidity you hadn't seen in a long time. You rarely went to pools, and no one swam like that at the beach. At your classes, there was no real swimming, nothing like this. Watching it was like receiving a gift.

Minseok moved through the water like it was working to get him to the other side of the pool. His arms appeared, then disappeared in a cycle. You could see his dark head in the light, as it went down and came back up for air. He should have looked like he was cutting through water, but really it was like the water was parting for him.

You were jealous—no matter how comfortable you grew in the water, you doubted you would ever be swimming like that—but you were not just jealous. The jealousy was a passing thought; more occupying was the details of Minseok. He was attractive usually, but more so swimming like that. The definition on his arms and legs was emphasised as he moved through the pool, and you couldn't help watching. Your eyes caught on his arms as they circled forward, then his neck as his head came out of the water for a moment, then the curve of his spine as he reached the end of the pool and twisted around for his next lap—then his eyes, as his eyes landed on you from across the pool.

You straightened in place, rubbing at the back of your neck. Was there a breeze? Your arms were covered in goosebumps.

Minseok took another lap, but you carefully didn't watch. He made his way to your part of the pool, running his hands through his hair.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Okay." You didn't feel okay, exactly—but the tension in your stomach was from a completely imagined source, and it wasn't your fear of water. You weren't going to tell him that, considering he was the reason for it.  

"Ready to float?"

You took a deep breath—focus—and nodded.

The initial position was easy, as you had done it so many times. You could get almost-horizontal on your own, with your legs still on the ground. Minseok kept a hand on your back, rubbing lightly. "Relax," he murmured. You did your best, trying to loosen the muscles of your stomach. Minseok's hands reached under your legs to lift them up, but he seemed to think better of it—instead, he placed one hand on your stomach. "Breathe out," he instructed. You obeyed, letting out your breath. "Now in." You breathed in. "Now release."

Under his palm, you released the clenched muscles in your stomach as best as you could. The difference was palpable to you, but it wouldn't be enough, you knew that—and so did Minseok.

He slid the hand at your back upward, from the small of your back to further up. "Release," he repeated, as he tapped with one hand at the small of your back, your shoulder bones, the front of your shoulders. You followed to the best of your ability as he went, watching him. When he thought you were as tension-free as you could be, he circled back to your side, tapping your legs. You brought one up, and Minseok tapped at your thigh.

Your toes had been curled inward; you relaxed them, trying to stretch your leg out as though you were lying on a solid substance, not water. Minseok slowly brought your other leg up, and you released a breath as it came up. He didn't bring his hand away from your back, instead moving back to your shoulders.

"This is where you hold most of your tension," he said, voice low, placing one palm on your shoulder. His palms were big, his fingers slightly wrinkled from the water. "What's keeping it there?"

"What if I sink?" you asked, looking at him.

Minseok squeezed your shoulder. "You won't. Trust me." His voice rose at the end, turning it into a question, and he was looking at you like waiting for an answer. What would your answer be, if he had asked? Did you trust him?

You were here, weren't you?

Minseok leaned in just a little, until he was almost shielding you from what little light there was in the room. His face in shadow was all flat planes. "No one's watching. Let go."

For a second, it looked like he was going to lean closer to you. You waited, but all he did was back away, holding eye contact with you. It wasn't cold, but as his hand dragged across your back, he might as well have been icy. You turned your head to hold his gaze as he moved away—and then you realised.

A second passed, then another. Your mouth opened—you closed it as water lapped at the sides of your face. Minseok's lips slowly, slowly rose into a grin. He signalled, and you spread your hands out in tiny motions as he had shown you. You stayed on the water, not sinking—floating.

You grinned, turning your head to face him—but it took you off balance, and you toppled forward. Minseok was there immediately, and he caught you by the waist, straightening you so your feet were back on the ground. You had almost fallen, but you didn't care; you had floated. For the first time, after almost a month of working on that with no success.

"Minseok, I—I floated!" you could hear the shock in your own voice, but Minseok only laughed. You laughed along with his infectious laugh, almost shaking. You couldn't stop smiling; you had done that. You had actually floated, on your own, without anyone (Minseok) holding you in place.

"I knew you could," Minseok said, smiling at you. You beamed. "You just needed to—let go."

His voice dropped as the last words approached, along with his eyes. Had you always been standing so close to him? Somehow, your hand had wound up on his chest. His arm was around your waist. He brought his tongue out to wet his lips, and your eyes caught there. "Yeah," you agreed, not sure what you were agreeing with. You weren't sure if you were breathing. Had you moved closer? He seemed very, very close. His eyes were on your lips. Was he leaning closer? Were you?

Minseok let go of you very abruptly. Water splashed up around you where his hands dropped.

You stepped back, clearing your throat. Minseok was looking everywhere but at you. You fiddled with where your swimsuit met your leg, running your finger between the end and your skin, smoothing out an imaginary fold.

"Let's do that again?" Minseok asked. You blinked at him, then realised what he meant. Instructor. Lesson. Floating. Right.

"Let's," you said. Your enthusiasm sounded false to your own ears.

You shivered as the cold water of the showers hit your skin. After ages in the pool, most of your skin had shrivelled up, but for the first time in weeks you weren't frustrated as you showered.

Well, you were frustrated—but it was a very different kind of frustration.

The rest of your lesson had gone just as well as the first part. You had managed to float on your own twice more, and when you had left off, Minseok had assured you that you would be able to do it at your next official class, too. You believed him; he had been right about you so far.

Your frustration stemmed from something else. Maybe it was the relative darkness, or the fact that it was only the two of you in the pool, but the tension between you had been high. After the first time you floated, every touch of Minseok's felt charged, even if it was the simple act of him placing his hand below your back, as he always did to begin with. His touches felt more fleeting, too, like he was afraid to touch you for too long. It wasn't just his hands, though; his eyes gleamed in the dark, like a cat's, and every time you met them you thought you saw—

But that was just thinking. And there was no point to that.

Even if he had looked at you—you had caught his eyes on you as you left the pool, but he had carefully averted them as you looked back at him. And before that, when he had been making his laps, and your eyes had met...

You rubbed your hands down your arms as goosebumps formed once again. Silly, really; you were reading too much into it just because of your attraction to him. It was the darkness, and the water, and the stillness, and how attractive he was; all of it was making you see things that weren't really there.

You wanted to stay in the shower for ages, but you couldn't; Minseok had offered to drop you home, as it was late, and you didn't want to make him wait even more than you already had.

Stepping away from the shower, you pulled your towel out, wrapping it around yourself. As the shower and changing room was deserted at this time of night, you had left your bag in the changing area. It would be a nice change from trying to change in the small shower stall, where the walls and floor were wet. You slipped into your flip-flops and left the stall. The changing rooms were dark, with no lights on at this time. Minseok had apologised for it—apparently the building lights had to be out when the last of the building staff left, and while he was allowed the small light by the pool, the changing rooms were out of question—but you didn't mind.

You patted your hair, slightly wet despite the cap. You tucked your towel tighter around yourself as you walked toward your bag. The floor of the changing area was perpetually wet, so you had to—

Your foot slipped. You yelped as you almost fell, grabbing onto a bar on the wall to stop yourself from falling. Shit. That had been close—you might not have injured yourself badly, but landing on your spine always hurt.

The door pushed open as you were straightening, and you slipped again. You caught on to the railing, but it was hands on your waist that steadied you. When you looked up, Minseok was staring at you, his eyes blown wide.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice hushed.

You let out a shaky breath, aftermath of almost having fallen twice in the span of a minute or so. "I slipped."

"Be careful," Minseok said.

You licked your lips, letting go of the railing and straightening. It only brought you closer to him. His hands were still around your waist, holding you tentatively. You watched as his lip disappeared between his teeth, his eyes trailing down to your bare arms, to where your chest disappeared below the towel. His hair was wet; a drop of water trailed down his neck.

"You—" He didn't finish, swallowing hard as he brought his eyes back up to yours.

"Minseok?"

"You're standing very close."

"I am," you said. The air settled around your words. You weren't sure what you meant by them yourself. A statement of fact? A challenge? An assertion? All of the above, maybe?

Minseok opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind and pulled you in.

The kiss was electric, charged with all the tension between the two of you from earlier. His touch seemed to burn as his hands moved, one wrapping around your waist to pull you closer until you were pressed against him. With the other he held your face, pulling you closer. You pulled him closer by his arms, by his neck, muscles tensed to definition under your hands. He kissed like he had wanted to do it for years, even if you had barely known each other two months ago.

The two of you scrabbled backward until your calves hit the bench. You broke away from him as your knees bent, gasping for air. Minseok's eyes opened, darkened to the point they might as well be black holes, sucking you in. It wasn't a difficult job.

You pulled him down by the neck, and Minseok went. This kiss was no less intense than the last, but slower, as Minseok maneuvered the two of you so you were all but lying on the bench and he was straddling you. His hands left your neck to go down to your shoulders, then further—your towel, already loosened, fell apart at his hands. He pulled away once again, looking at you intently. A flush of pleasure ran through you at the way his mouth opened, the way he slowly licked his lips before bringing his eyes back up to yours. He had seen you in a swimsuit, wet, enough times—but, you supposed, that was different.

"You're—"

You weren't in the mood for words. You surged upward for another kiss, cutting him off. Minseok's hands went down, exploring your body. One landed on your breast, palm rough against your skin. His other hand went to your hip, hesitant. You pulled him down into you so he was between your legs rather than hovering over you. Minseok's clothed hips pushed against yours, and you groaned at the feeling of him. He was hard already. Why was he wearing clothes?

Minseok's lips left yours in favour of your neck, leaving deep open-mouthed kisses against the side of your neck. He chased drops of water to your shoulders as his hand slipped between your legs. You pushed your hands under his top, running them over his chest. You had touched it before, lots of times, but never like this; his muscles rippled under your palms. You pulled his shirt off his head, Minseok making a noise as he had to pull away from your neck to do it. As you explored his chest, now bare, Minseok brushed his fingers against you.

He leaned on his side, looking down at you as he did. His fingers pushed past your folds, collecting the moisture that had formed there, spreading it up toward your clit. He kept watching you, his eyes deep and dark. It was too much; you groaned and moved your torso upward, pressing kisses into his shoulder and chest. Minseok's mouth returned to your neck, nipping at the soft skin there, brushing his teeth against your shoulders, your collar bone. His fingers dipped into you, first one, then another. You spread your legs further to give him space to move, and he dipped deeper, sliding his fingers in and out of you. Every time he slipped his fingers out, he slid them up to your clit, circling it, squeezing it between two fingers.

You moved toward him as he kept going. Your body was slowly tensing as the feeling in the pit of your stomach grew stronger. Minseok was breathing heavily against you, his mouth still pressing wet kisses to your neck, shoulders, chest. He circled his fingers within you, pressing them against your walls. He curled his fingers, and you curved your back, pressing your head into his arm as the pressure grew too much. Your orgasm was slow, spreading through you at a slow pace, reaching in waves. Your whole body tightened, curling into him, then released all at once as you came down from your high.

You pulled away from Minseok's shoulder and your eyes fluttered open. Minseok stared at you, a hint of smile growing on his lips. Your chest was burning and you felt loose, delighted, fond—aftermath of the orgasm, most likely. You tried to move to kiss him again, but you didn't have the strength just yet, and instead slid backward, crashing into something.

It was your bag. It fell to the ground, opening. You blinked; you had forgotten it was there.

Minseok seemed to sober as he looked at your bag, then back at you. His breathing came slow, rough, as he climbed off you. You could see the tent in his shorts, but he shuffled away, turning around and adjusting himself. His hands seemed to be shaking. The euphoria was gone, leaving you with just vague embarrassment.

Instructor. Swimming.

You pulled the towel back up around you and sat up. When you closed your legs, they brushed against your core, and you had to shift. It should have been a pleasant reminder, but instead, it was just uncomfortable.

"We shouldn't have—I'm your instructor."

"Yeah," you agreed, not sure what else to say. You had wanted this, had wanted it for ages, but... this wasn't allowed to happen. Minseok clearly hadn't intended for it to.

"I'll be outside."

"Okay," you said, low. Minseok picked up his shirt and left, his breathing still rough. You watched, then, once the door was between the two of you again, got up and dressed. Your clit throbbed when you put your jeans on. Unease coursed through you. Had you really just done that? Why had you responded that way when Minseok came in? Why had you slipped? What did he think of you now? He was your instructor, and you had three classes to go. What were you going to do? You didn't want to quit now—but. The idea of Minseok touching you again was... tempting. In all the wrong ways, especially after he had shown just what he thought of it. 

We shouldn't have—

When you emerged, Minseok was standing by the door, his hands in his pockets, bag over his shoulder. His glasses were on now. You did your best to flash him a smile that he barely returned.

The two of you walked to the entrance silently, with at least a foot of distance between you. Minseok looked awkward, conscious. You couldn't help being conscious yourself. He was supposed to drop you off, but you didn't want to spend more time around him tonight. Or rather, you wanted to, but.

You pictured it: him driving you, just as quiet was he was being now. A ride spent in silence, both of your agitation colouring the atmosphere. Or did he prefer to play music? Maybe you would both reach for the dial of music, maybe your hands would brush, maybe you would laugh, easing some of the tension in the air. And then maybe once you got to your building, you would invite him upstairs, and maybe—

When you got to the entrance, Minseok took the keys out of his bag, turning to unlock the doors, then lock them behind you. You took the opportunity to leave, and said quickly, "See you Tuesday."

Minseok started to turn to stop you, but you had turned around and walked away.

You ticked the penultimate column in the register signifying your attendance, sighing. One more week, one more class, and your time with Minseok was done. That was it. You didn't know what you wanted more, really—to see him again, or to never see him again.

At least you had made considerable progress with water. Floating had been the hardest step, evidently; you were doing just fine with the basic kick you had been practicing for ages, now underwater, and you had almost managed a basic backstroke, which wasn't a lot more than flapping your arms and legs once you were floating on your back. You still felt kind of silly flapping your hands in the water, but Minseok reassured you that that would only change with time, and practice. The important part was that being in water wasn't making you freak out; you knew how to come up, and that short of you panicking, you would largely stay up.

So, there was that.

Chatty Receptionist, whose name badge had faded and showed you only -hyun, placed his head on his wrist, smiling at you. "Are you almost at your last class already? Minseokie-hyung is going to miss you."

You raised your eyebrow. While Minseok was the picture of professionalism at your lessons, he had lost the slight friendliness you had thought you had. Even when he was just moving you into position or supporting you in the water, his hands were so hesitant on you, just barely making contact as though ready to snatch away the second he didn't need to be touching you. And he did that, too. It seemed to you that he would do the opposite of miss you.

"I doubt it," you said, unable to help it.

Chatty Receptionist sat back, looking dramatically shocked. "Is that why he's been pouting all over the place? What did you do?"

You opened your mouth, then shut it. Minseok had been pouting? Over you? That didn't make sense; he was the one who had, effectively, rejected you. You had spent entire nights unable to stop thinking of that, the way he had come to you. He had definitely been interested, but, you had reasoned, it was because you were there. And almost naked. It was just because of the tension, your being alone in the building, the night. If he was interested in you, he would have tried to say something.

"I didn't do anything," you told Chatty Receptionist, frowning. "He's the one who—" You broke off as the man in question appeared in the corner of your vision. Minseok was walking slowly, looking at the ground. You had avoided him outside of your lessons for two weeks now, arriving just before your class was to start and leaving immediately after. Minseok had not exactly been seeking you out, but you didn't want a repeat of the awkwardness after that night.

You winced as Chatty Receptionist looked between you and back to him, apparently putting something together. You wanted to explain that you couldn't be the person responsible for Minseok being out of sorts, but you weren't doing that in front of him. You stepped out of the building, ignoring him when he called after you. Once you were out of their line of sight, you stood, turning back to look at Minseok.

Pouting... over you.

Chatty hadn't been wrong, exactly; Minseok looked down as he placed his bag on the ground and leaned on the counter to sign the register. He was definitely looking less-than-happy. You bit your lip, watching as Receptionist looked out of the building and said something, leading to Minseok giving him a full-blown pout.

They couldn't be talking about you, could they?

Despite yourself, the idea stayed with you for the week. Every time you looked at your calendar, where you had a little cross marked for your final lesson with Minseok, your stomach lurched. The idea that he was upset because of you, that that night had ended in disappointment for him as much as you; the idea held appeal, because it meant what he had said was not a rejection so much as a not yet.

And yet—he hadn't spoken to you since that night. Lessons didn't count, and there was his hesitation to touch you...

The night before your final lesson, you couldn't sleep, the nerves getting the better of you. You didn't know what you were going to do, but you had to do something. Not knowing would destroy you, as it had done all week. You had to do something to find out, one way or another; either he liked you, and you could do something about it now that you would no longer be his student—or he rejected you, and you had to deal with that.

You went to your last class nervous for both swimming reasons and Minseok reasons, and found yourself there a few minutes too early.

You weren't sure when you were going to talk to him. Before the lesson, or after it? What if he left before you could see him?

No—you had to speak to him, that was for sure. Minseok was occupied with a parent just then, though, so you went ahead and changed into your swimsuit, putting your bag away. When you emerged, the other students were not yet out. A smile crept on your face; that meant you had time.

You looked around, and found Minseok standing with some of the other instructors. You made your way to him, a touch nervous; you hadn't intended to be wearing just a swimming costume when you spoke to him. But he was in nothing more than just his trunks himself, so perhaps this put you at more of an equal level.

You got to the group, hesitating for a second before calling out, "Minseok?"

Minseok turned to look at you—and as he did, he revealed Jimin, who turned to look at you with a broad grin.

Jimin had only been your instructor for two weeks before she had been in an accident, putting her in a cast and you in need of someone else. At the time, you had been nervous to have someone new teaching you, though it had helped to have her introduce him to you and do a sort of combined class for you. Now, you were glad Minseok had been your instructor; Jimin might have helped you well, but you had enjoyed Minseok's lessons. For more reasons than one. Regardless of what he said later today, you didn't regret that he had taught you.

Jimin bounded over to you, cheery. You greeted her, shooting a quick look at Minseok. He had been watching you; when your eyes met, he quickly looked away, turning around. Your stomach sank as Jimin took you with her good hand and began to ask you about how your lessons were going. To Minseok, she called out, "Five minutes! You can get your student back after that!"—meaning you were going to go straight to the lesson after, with no time to talk.

Her arm was out of the cast, but she held it stiffly. Today marked two weeks since she had gotten the cast off, she told you, and she was now allowed to try some of the more strenuous arm exercises that swimming involved, she told you. Later, she had a mini-party with the other instructors to celebrate her return, she told you. She was buying them all food. You were only half-listening as you watched Minseok talk to one of the other instructors for a moment, only snapping back to attention when Jimin giggled.

"He's hot, right?"

You looked back at Jimin. You hadn't realised you had been staring hard enough for her to notice. "That's not—"

She shook her head. "I know. It's okay, we all think that."

She returned you to Minseok within the five minutes she had said, before going to a separate corner of the pool that had been marked for her. Minseok smiled his professional smile and gestured for you to enter the water.

Your lesson went quickly, with the two of you working through breathing drills, the two different kicks he had taught you, followed by you practicing floating and staying upright in water. It went well; floating was still what gave you most pause, but you could do it now, which made a big difference. You were never going to be a swimmer the way Minseok or Jimin were, but being comfortable in the water, being confident in your ability to not sink was important to you, and enough for now.

"How was I?" you asked Minseok as you climbed out of the water an hour later. Minseok followed you up, pushing his hair out of his face as he did. He was smiling, and it was more enthusiastic than you had seen, properly seen, in three weeks. Was it because of your success at everything you had done today, or because he was glad to see the back of you?

You shook yourself; it could be something else altogether. To think he was smiling more or less because of you was selfish. Maybe he was just having a good day.

"You were great! I knew you could do it."

You smiled. Minseok had been saying that he knew you could do it since your first class together. It would have gotten frustrating if it wasn't for the sheer certainty in his voice as he said it, every single time. He couldn't just be saying it to placate you, because he was always right. Something in your stomach fluttered. How had you gotten the best instructor you could hope to find?

"Thank you," you said.

"It's nothing," he said. It was not nothing, not to you—but that was different, and you didn't want to get into it. Minseok was grinning, and you couldn't help smiling back, despite the nerves clouding your stomach—ironically, nerves that hit after you emerged from the water, not before. Hopefully, hopefully, you weren't about to ruin Minseok's returned good mood with what you were about to ask.

"Minseok," you started, rushing into it before you could convince yourself out of it. "I wanted to talk to you. Um. About that night."

He knew what you meant. His smile disappeared. "I do, too, but—"

"Minseok!"

You both turned to look at the man who had cut you off. It was one of the other instructors, a man whose eyes alarmed you every time he turned them to you. Minseok's mouth was open, caught mid-word as Scary Eyes approached the two of you, smiling. "Ah, are you busy?"

Minseok said, "Yes."

You said, "I can wait."

Minseok turned to look at you, but Scary Eyes had apparently decided to listen to you, not Minseok, and started talking about something his student—Tall and Frowny—had done or said. You gestured to the changing rooms and mouthed that you'd be right back.

The showers were occupied by some women from the gym upstairs, something that had happened several times before, but never bothered you the way it was right now. You wanted to be changed and outside, talking to Minseok. You had no choice but to wait for your turn, bundling your clothes in your hands as you did. When your turn finally arrived, you rushed through your shower and drying yourself, leaving the changing rooms as fast as you possibly could.

But Minseok was nowhere to be seen.

In fact, the entire pool area had almost emptied, with only two of your fellow students standing off to the side and talking. You had only spoken to each of them once—Tall and Frowny twice, maybe, but it barely counted.

All the same, today was your last day here. You were never going to see any of these people ever again; it couldn't hurt to speak to them once, even if they had seen you embarrassingly incapable of basic exercises.

You went up to them, waving awkwardly.

"Hi," Droopy Eyes said, smiling. Tall and Frowny only offered a smile.

"Hi. Um, do you know where everyone else is? I was hoping to talk to Minseok before I left."

Tall and Frowny raised one brow at you. "They've all gone to some cafe. There's some party, I think."

You blinked. A party. Jimin had told you, too—she was treating all the instructors, including Minseok. You hadn't been listening, too focused on him. That meant he was gone, and with that, your last chance to talk to him today.

"Thanks," you told the two of them, smiling past the stone in your throat.

You left the pool area, fisting your hands. That was that, apparently. You didn't even have his number. Quite possibly, that was it. You could come back, but you would be interrupting his classes most times of the day, and outside of your own class, you didn't know his schedule.

Chatty Receptionist waved at you as you got to the reception, handing you a pen to sign with. He peered down at the final, checked-in box before putting the book away, leaning forward. "Everyone's gone out," he said.

You sighed. "Yeah, I heard."

"You're not planning on re-registering, are you?" he asked, squinting at you. You shook your head; you definitely weren't. The lessons had been good, but you couldn't splurge on another set. They had been expensive enough to begin with. He hummed, looking thoughtful. "Well, don't tell him I told you, but—if you weren't sure—he's here all Friday nights by nine."

Friday night came cold and unfriendly to dresses and skirts. You had wanted to be dramatic, though, so you decided the weather did not get a say in what you wore, hoped this went well, and wore a sundress.

You got to the building just minutes after nine to see Chatty Receptionist locking up. You waved when he saw you, and he grinned at you, not saying anything until you were inside the building.

"Are you surprising him?" he asked, looking excited. You nodded, too nervous to speak. You had only carried a small bag, and he eyed it curiously, but didn't ask anything further. "Good luck!" he said, voice low.

"Thanks."

He locked the doors, shooting you a wink through the glass. Then, he turned around and left, pulling out his phone. You stayed standing by the entrance for a minute. The nerves were beginning to climb into your mouth. You had, effectively, locked yourself into the building with Minseok. If this went sour—if he rejected you now, he would be the only one who could let you out.

But you had come this far. You were not going to back out now—not that you could, even if you wanted to, as you were locked in.

Steeling yourself, you started to make your way to the pool. The hallway was dark, but you knew the way, and when you were at the doors to the pool, you hesitated, standing still. A dim light came from within where Minseok must be. You took a deep, strengthening breath, and pushed the door open, entering.

The door opened silently. Minseok was swimming to the far end of the pool, and you took a minute, stopping by the door to watch. Being here in the dark again was like permission for your brain to open the floodgates, and every distinct feeling from that night returned as you watched Minseok. His arms moved swiftly against the water—his arms around you, how you had pressed kisses to his shoulders. His head appearedand disappeared under the water—what kissing him felt like. The smooth strokes of his legs—the feeling of being under him.

But you weren't here to watch. You moved forward, going closer until you were just by the edge of the pool and kneeling by it.

Minseok noticed you on his next lap, as he turned to face you. His eyes widened momentarily before his head disappeared again. He finally emerged at your end of the pool, looking up at you. You offered a wave.

"Hi," you said.

Minseok propped himself up on the edge of the pool, looking at you. "Hello."

This wasn't how you had expected it to go—but then, you weren't sure what you had expected. Questions, maybe. You hadn't imagined it very clearly. Clearing your throat, you said, "You're probably wondering why I'm here."

Minseok let out a low laugh. "I am."

"It's because—well, on Tuesday, we didn't really get to talk. And I really wanted to get this out." Minseok said nothing, simply gesturing for you to go on. You frowned, but you'd come this far—if he wasn't being cooperative, you would have to go on by yourself until he was. Or until he turned you down flat. "So, that night. What happened. You said you hadn't meant to do that? Or... you said that you shouldn't have. Because you're my instructor."

Minseok nodded. "I hadn't meant to. It just—happened. I really hadn't asked you for a private lesson intending for anything like that to happen. I just wanted to help you."

You frowned, licking your lips. Was that why he had been so tense the following days? The hesitation to touch you, the not speaking to you unless you spoke first, was it because he thought you felt taken advantage of? "I'm not blaming you for anything. I didn't exactly mind." Minseok opened his mouth, and you corrected, "No, I wanted it to happen. I have."

Minseok shook his head. "Even so, you're my student. It shouldn't have happened."

You leaned forward. "Was."

He frowned. "What?"

"I was your student. I'm not anymore."

Minseok raised himself off his arms, looking at you. The question was all over his face. You waited for him to say something, ask something, but he kept hesitating. Finally, he asked, "So why are you here now?"

Here it was. Time to take a leap of faith—a dive of faith? You stood, shrugging. "You did say I could come here again, right?" Minseok nodded, hesitant. "And you don't mind me interrupting you?" He shook his head. "Good."

"O—okay." Minseok said, not looking away from you. That was good. Your hands were shaking, but you had come here to be dramatic, so you would be dramatic. Reaching for the hem of your dress, you pulled it up. Minseok's eyes widened minutely, his gaze going to where your skin was being revealed. And then, just as it would reach your hips, you pulled the rest of the dress off all at once, letting it drop behind you.

You were wearing a swimsuit, of course, but not the plain, covering ones you wore to your usual swimming lessons. This was a set you'd bought for your trip to the beach, but never actually worn there. It was thinner, and cut out so there were small gaps at your waist, revealing your sides to Minseok.

Minseok moved to the ladder as you descended it, stopping in front of you once you were in the water. You waited; Minseok took tiny steps closer to you, until he was almost touching you. He brought one hand up to place on your waist. You brought your own up, touching his neck lightly. He was wet from earlier, and water dripped down his hair onto your hand.

"You're here for... me?" he asked, making sure one last time. You nodded.

That was enough for Minseok; he pulled you in.

This was different from last time, less fevered—but no less intense. His hands wrapped around you immediately, pressing you to him. You brought your own hands up to his neck, holding him close. His lips were chapped, but you didn't mind; it felt very him. His fingers massaged your waist at the gaps in your swimsuit. You moved your hands to his hair, soft between your fingers.

Minseok broke the kiss to look down at you, pressing his forehead to yours. He was breathing heavily, and you smiled as he brought one hand up to touch your neck. "I'm having some trouble believing you're really here," he said softly. "After you avoided me, I thought you didn't want anything to do with me."

You let out a small laugh. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with me."

Minseok shook his head, smiling. His eyes turned up when he smiled. You had noticed it earlier, but never at such close range. You brought your hand down to his cheek, sliding the pads of your fingers down his face. "It's the opposite, actually," he said, smile disappearing. His voice pitched lower than usual, until it was almost a low growl. "I want to do everything with you."

You whimpered, not realising you had made a sound until you heard it. Minseok's eyes darkened, and he brought you back to him. You melted into the kiss, winding your arms around his neck and letting him take control. His hands roamed your body, going down to your legs, tracing upward until they settled at your hips, pulling them to where you could feel him hardening through his shorts. He jerked his hips against you, and you sighed, pulling your arms away to bring one down to his shorts, palming him through the fabric.

You pulled away from Minseok's lips as he brought his large hands to the straps of your swimsuit. He separated your hands from him to slowly roll the straps down your arms, swallowing. You let him, sliding your hands out of the straps. He peeled the suit down until it hung around your stomachs, then pulled you in for another kiss. You pressed your hand once again to where his cock was growing harder, feeling a rush in the pit of your stomach when he rutted his hand against you.

Minseok brought his hands to your bottom and squeezed, making you squeak into his mouth. With his hands there, he lifted, pressing your back against the wall of the pool. You leaned back as he lowered his mouth to your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking noisily on it. You shivered as he brushed his teeth against your erect bud, and you could feel his mouth form a smile against you. With the other hand he pulled at your other breast, massaging it in his palm.

You brought your legs around his waist for support, and pulled him forward into you. While his hands and mouth worked at your breasts, you ground down against him, circling your hips as best you could in what space you had. He jerked his hips against you rhythmically, his cock pressing against you through the layer of clothes.

Minseok's hands tugged at the rest of your swimsuit, sliding under the cloth to press his fingers to your mound. They teased at your clit, rubbing from your clit to under your hood. You groaned and sent your own hand under his swim shorts, taking his cock in hand. He was fully hard now, and you wrapped your hand around him and jerked, slow but to a rhythm. When his fingers squeezed your clit, you responded by squeezing his cock—when he rubbed closer to your entrance, you reached toward his balls.

Minseok groaned when you cupped his balls, pulling away from your breasts. He moved one hand to your bottom, lifting you. You took the cue to press yourself to him, and he carried the two of you to the shallowest part of the pool, seating you on the edge. Minseok peeled the rest of the suit away from your legs—as fast as he could—and you kicked it off down your legs once he was done, his fingers back at your core. He brought his mouth to the line of your shoulder, peppering hot, wet kisses and tiny bites.

You shoved at his swim shorts as he began to trail a path to your breasts again. Understanding your meaning, he shoved his shorts down, letting you take him in hand again. You tugged at his cock, keeping your grip as tight as you could. Minseok thrust into your hand as you repeated your motion, speeding up in time.

He finally pushed one finger into you, testing the waters before adding another, stretching you out. You groaned, but didn't let up your hold on him, balancing with another hand on his shoulder. Minseok sucked at your breasts, thrusting his fingers in you until you were whining his name, groaning. His cock was almost twitching in your palm, and when you thumbed the leaking tip, Minseok cursed and thrust into your palm.

With a frustrated groan, he removed his fingers, pulling your hips to the very end of the pool. You lied down, raising your legs so they were almost parallel with his chest, the only way you could be comfortable like this. Minseok took hold of one of your legs, pressing his thumb into the sole of your foot. You whined, and he looked back from your foot to you. He looked almost wild, and you thrust your hips toward you. Minseok stopped your movement with one hand. Finally, finally lining himself up with you, he pushed into you.

The angle didn't give you much space to move; you did your best all the same, circling your hips as he thrust into you. His movement was uneven, sloppy—he was close, you could tell, from your handling him earlier, but so were you. He held on to your hip with one hand, and the other he brought to your clit, rubbing at it with his thumb. The wrinkles of his waterlogged skin were deliciously frustrating against your clit.

You jerked your hips up as you began to close to your high. Minseok was, too; his thrusts grew more erratic, his grip on your hip tighter—you whined as it reached almost painful levels, the feeling more pleasureable than anything now—and then he was coming.

You tightened around him as best as you could while he came in you in hot spurts, his cock brushing against your front walls. His fingers grew more frantic around your clit, and you found yourself arching upward off the ground as he increased his speed, until you were coming too. Your feet arched, curling around his shoulders; Minseok rubbed at your calves, the feeling far more intense than it might have been otherwise. Minseok pumped into you until you were coming down from your high, then pulled out of you, lowering your legs.

You laid there for a moment, catching your breath. Minseok was leaning against the wall of the pool, his own chest heaving. Slowly, slowly, you raised yourself up on your elbows, groaning when his mess spilled out of you onto the floor. You had to—do something about that. Probably. Your legs were sore; you let them hang into the water.

Minseok finally straightened, looking at you.

"That was—" he broke off, shaking his head.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"We should do that again," Minseok said.

You couldn't help it; you laughed, then found yourself nodding. "Yes, please."

Minseok looked over his shoulder, back at the water. You followed his sight; both, your swimsuit, and his trunks, had wound up halfway across the water. You giggled again, falling back to the ground. Minseok shot you a secretive smile before he turned around, diving into the water to fetch your clothes. You worked on sitting up, groaning at the stiffness of your legs.

He returned with the clothes, immediately moving to mop up the come on the floor with his shorts. You bunched up your swimsuit in your hand as he did, pushing up to your knees. You were all kinds of dirty from the floor, the pool, Minseok; and really in need of a shower. While you had counted on that when you arrived—you looked back at your bag, biting your lip.

"So," you started, "I need a shower. Are you—are you swimming more? I guess I kind of interrupted you..."

Minseok climbed out of the pool, grinning. "I wouldn't mind more interruptions like this if it's just us here." You grinned back, shaking your head. This was not exactly the sort of thing you did; you had just taken the chance in desperation. You were glad you had, but you doubted a repeat to this kind of surprise. "I'm not exactly up for more laps now, and I need a shower too. So we could get cleaned up—together, separately—and then I drop you home?"

You got to your feet, swimsuit in hand, beaming. This was almost better than the best scenario you could have imagined when you arrived here. "Together. And maybe, somewhere in there, you could give me your number." You shot another look to where your dress was on the floor. The floor was, relatively speaking, clean, but... "And my dress is probably ruined now. You wouldn't happen to have any extra clothes on you, would you?"

Minseok's eyes flashed, and he pulled you to him by your wrist, grinning. "I'm sure that can be arranged."