#i should start adding custom tags but...? hm

[inviberu]

not so fast.

Once, he was left alone by someone who he thought would stay with him forever. 'Humans are so... fickle,' he thinks. And there was no way—absolutely no way—he was going through that a second time. Not when it's you, of all people.

Note: Written for my friend, @bobaryn ! Happy Birthday again, I hope I did Mithryn justice 🥺❤️

i. mimi-chan's problems

Mithra, the second strongest wizard in the world, only second to Oz. A Northerner at the very core, egoistic and relies on brute strength to solve all of his problems without thinking twice about the alternatives. Mithra… the man who now stood in front of Ryn's door, waiting patiently for her to come out. Or maybe that wasn't the case at all—he wasn't a very patient man, after all.

Birthdays, birthdays… How curious. Mithra never striked anyone as the type to celebrate anyone's birthday no matter how close they were; troublesome as they are. One year meant nothing to a wizard, a year can pass by in a blink of an eye but perhaps what makes it different this time is that the one he holds closest to his heart is not a wizard but, in fact, a human.

Humans barely reached a hundred years. And even then, they would be too old to the point that Mithra thinks that they're just walking corpses. It didn't matter much to him before, there was no reason for him to think about the lives of humans when he was too busy trying to kill Oz. But to think that something as trivial as this would scare him—Owen and Bradley would laugh at him to no end.

Humans barely reached a hundred. Humans. Ryn. Ryn, his love, was a human. Was she to turn into a walking corpse one day as well? Humans were much more fragile. One small push and there was the tiniest bit of chance that they would fall to their doom and die.

'Fickle… How so very fickle,' Mithra thought. As much as he didn't like to admit it, the thought scared him. If it was possible, he didn't want to celebrate her birthday at all because all it did was remind him that she was aging and her lifespan is reduced by a year yet again. She can't leave him, he wouldn't let her even if she wanted to.

Although it's very difficult, there was a way for wizards to make a concoction to prolong a human's life. Mithra would travel to every nook and cranny of the world just to find the ingredients, it was a small price to pay for her unchanging affection that would preferably last a thousand years. Even though these were his current thoughts, he quickly got reminded that Ryn did not like it whenever he talked about this kind of thing during her birthday.

It felt too depressing for a supposedly happy occasion like a birthday. Mithra could only let out a sigh and threw his head back, crossing his arms as he tried to think of various ways to bring the topic up without accidentally dampening the mood.

… Wait. Why is he thinking so much? Sometimes even Mithra himself gets baffled whenever he realizes just how much he cares about the Sage. It felt unbelievable to some degree and at times, he wanted to get rid of her and his feelings but thankfully the more sane side of him won that internal debate. Love. What a despicable thing. Mithra wanted to throw it outside the window.

Feelings were a hindrance. They do nothing but make him feel vulnerable and weak. They become weaknesses—

"Mimi-chan, I'm sorry for making you wait!"

—and give him something to protect.

And there was his precious gem right in front of him, standing tall and proud. Beautiful as ever as it shined brightly with that smile of hers. Mithra stared at her blankly.

"Is that a new outfit?"

"Yeah! I thought that I should change my outfit a bit since it's my birthday after all." Ryn replied enthusiastically. Mithra smiled gently.

"It suits you."

ii. mimi-chan's hometown

"Was there a particular reason why you chose to come here of all places during your birthday?" Ryn would've froze to death had it not been for the fact that she was sticking to Mithra like glue with magic to keep her warm. No sounds could be heard as white stretches as far as the eye can reach; the North always felt so frightening.

But even frightening things have their own charms no matter how they look to people. The deathly white felt ethereal to some extent, like an untouchable beauty that can kill you within seconds. Seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses has its perks.

"Because it's where you grew up. Last time we went here, we couldn't go to the land of the dead, right? I thought that maybe I can use this opportunity to go there with you today. Do you not want to?"

"... No, I'd be happy to." Mithra's eyes widened. "But are you sure this is how you want to spend your birthday…?"

"I want to know more about you, what better way than to go to where you grew up? Plus, you seemed really happy when I told you I wanted to visit last time…"

Mithra smiles. Why is it that she focuses on him during her birthday of all days? It wasn't as if he minded it though, he was glad to have the opportunity to show her around. He let out a satisfied sigh as he grabbed her hand and started to walk across the surface of the lake.

"Alright. I'll have you know everything about me."

"W-Wait, Mimi-chan!" She couldn't slow him down. Not when he was absolutely ecstatic to show her the land of the dead. Her embarrassed face was left unnoticed by him.

iii. mimi-chan's promise

Perhaps the real challenge for Mithra was the fact that he still couldn't find the perfect time to tell her about that concoction even as they continued to wander around the North Country. There wasn't much to fear when the second strongest wizard is by your side but maybe he was the one with fears this time around. His hand wrapped around hers… it felt so small and fragile as if she could break any moment.

The scenery of her smiling happily amidst the snow, it was something he hoped he would never forget knowing that poor memory of his. If she were to leave this world one day, would he forget her name as well? It disturbed him. Why was he so disturbed? Love? Was love supposed to instill this much fear in him?

"Mimi-chan, I think it's time to leave—" Before she could finish her statement, Mithra grabbed her wrist.

"Don't leave." Ryn stared at him, baffled. Without another word, she wrapped her arms around his torso and buried her face into his chest.

"I'm not going anywhere." She reassured him.

"... Can you promise me that?"

"As long as you promise me something too. Promise me that you'll stay with me for a thousand years to come."

Mithra paused. A gentle smile taking over his lips.

"I promise."

He had another weakness yet again. Though, this time, it didn't feel bad. It was a small price to pay for an eternity with her, after all.

[joanquill]

Brother From Another Mother

Moving away from your country, it can get scary. From learning another language to learning the customs, traditions, and culture… It can get overwhelming. Good thing you have people who feel like your second home.

Albert James Moriarty

Tag/s: Foreign!Fem!Reader, Platonic

"(Y/N)?" you heard a groggy voice call out and saw Albert by the kitchen door.

"Good morning," you greeted, keeping your eyes on what you were cooking.

"It's three in the morning," he yawned with a frown, making his way to you.

He furrowed his brows as he looked over your shoulder, trying to figure out what you were making.

"Homesick?"

"You can say that," you halfheartedly answered, adding some finishing touches to it.

"My mother used to make it for me every day back when I was a kid," you explained, giving him some as you took a bite of yours.

You let out a satisfied sigh as you savored your food while Albert looked at his curiously.

"It's not poisoned," you rolled your eyes, showing your food.

He shrugged as he took a bite, trying to figure out what flavor it was.

You saw his eyes light up as he looked back at you, making you smile smugly.

"Pretty good, right?" he nodded as he took another bite.

"You're an excellent cook," he complimented, making you lightly laugh.

"Trust me, hers are way better than what I can make," you proudly stated, taking another bite.

"You should make these more often,"

"And feed about ten mouths?" you raised a brow,

"Then ask Louis for help these instead of sneaking into the kitchen in the dead of night,"

"Where's the fun in that?" you chuckled, taking another bite.

"Funny question," another voice chipped in, making you both turn to the door.

The person lit a candle, and you saw Louis, a deep frown etched on his face.

You and Albert quickly his your meals as you wiped your mouth while Albert covered his, still chewing.

"And I suppose you are cleaning up the mess you made, Miss (Y/N)? Unlike other nights," he asked, making you nervously laugh.

"I was starting to think we had rodents in the manor,"

"Of course, of course… Sorry about those," you reassured, making him sigh.

"Clean up before you two go back to bed. You both have a party to attend tomorrow," Louis reminded, making you both greet him goodnight as he went back.

You and Albert sighed in relief, making you lightly laugh.

"We better finish up before Louis comes back," you reminded as you finished your food, dusting off your hands as you put the kitchenware you used in the sink.

"Right, right," he finished his food and took a rag, wiping off the counter you two ate.

"And don't think that food was free. You owe me,"

"Then should I cook something for you?" you could hear the smirk in his voice as you remembered what he cooked the last time he was in the kitchen.

"On second thought, you can just knit me a sweater,"

"Come on…!" you pulled Albert along the boutique as he tried to walk away.

"Why do you even need me here?"

"Because you know more about what dresses are appropriate here than me," you explained with a huff, "And I need someone to pay. My money doesn't really work here, remember?"

"Glad to hear I'm your walking bank," he joked, making you roll your eyes.

"Then how about when we go to my country, I'll treat you to any souvenirs you want?" you suggested, making Albert consider your offer.

"…Throw in you teaching Louis new recipes and helping in the kitchen," he bargained, making you furrow your brows.

"Do you prefer eating stargazy pie every night?" he asked, making you see his point.

"Hm…" you hummed, holding on to your chin.

"Help me with cleaning duties?"

"Deal," he smiled as you both shook your hands on it.

"But did you have to go to the most expensive shops?"

"Yes,"

"What do you think?" you asked, holding out two dresses to Albert.

"I like this one the most," you held up the dress in your favorite color, "But they said this is better for balls," you held the dress recommended by the clerks.

His eyes looked over at both as he checked the fabric.

"This one should be good," he answered, pointing at the one in your favorite color, "I don't think the host of the party is too strict with dress codes,"

You smiled as you went to the dressing room, excited to see how it would look on you.

"Tada!" you grinned as you drew the curtains, showing Albert your dress.

He smiled as you twirled around, admiring yourself in the mirror.

"It looks good on you,"

"Thanks!" you beamed, looking at how the dress moved with you.

"You look stunning, miss!" the clerk beamed, making you smile at her.

"You have such a beautiful wife, Lord Albert," she added, making you stop as you both turned to her.

"Wife?" you asked, making the clerk look at you innocently.

Your face turned pale and twisted in disgust as Albert let out a hearty laugh, walking away with his hand on his stomach.

"OH-GOD- NO, THAT'S DISGUSTING!" you clarified, shaking your hand in protest, "He's practically my brother!"

The clerk gasped as her face became red.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she apologized profusely, bowing her head.

Albert started to calm down, sniffling as he wiped the tears out of his eyes and sat back down.

"She's just a close friend of mine," Albert smiled as the clerk covered her mouth.

"As she said, she's like the spoiled little sister I never had,"

"Thank you," you exaggerated, making Albert chuckle.

"I-I see… I'm sorry for the confusion," she apologized as Albert reassured her.

"So, we're buying that dress?" Albert asked as you nodded, looking back into the mirror.

"Yep, definitely!" you smiled, swaying your hips as you watched the dress swish along.

"Then I guess we're done,"

"Now, hold on," you grabbed his arm, making him look back at you.

"I still have to pick matching jewelry," you reminded, making Albert scoff.

"You have a jewelry box as big as a crate,"

You groaned as you looked back in the mirror.

"You're no fun, sometimes,"

"Mhm, just wait until we go to your homeland."

[waywardsummoner46]

(Un)Pleasantville

A/N: Second one shot, yay! Definitely toying with expanding this as well as my Lucifer!Sam and Michael!Dean fic. I’m open to requests and let me know if you want to be added to my tag list (never had one before, oo this is exciting). As ever enjoy the fic and let me know what you think!

Word count ~ 1620

______________________________________________________________

Alright so, not to sugar coat anything but this was an absolute nightmare.

  You, Sam and Castiel had gotten word of a hunt - well more Sam but that’s besides the point - and had left yesterday. You’d paused at a gas station outside of a place called Charming Acres but the dude at the counter said something was off about the place… so naturally (or supernaturally) you all went to check it out. And a dude’s head just completely blew up out of the blue after he came in for his phone?

  Pulling into the town itself, now that was something. You felt as though you’d walked into a 1950s sitcom about some cheesy, lovesick marriage story. Something that you’d like to stay well away from. Consequently, you met a cheesy, lovesick couple called Justin and Cindy Smith who said they’d heard absolute zilch about any deaths and “this is a very close-knit community, nothing goes on here without everyone knowing” blah blah blah.

  Anyway, the strangest thing for you wasn’t the clothes, nor was it the 1950s behaviour, no, it was the fact Justin didn’t seem to recognise what a phone was. You silently ogled at him but he paid no attention to you. So now you definitely thought something was off about this place. 

  After that fateful encounter, you all stumbled upon the local diner “Harrington’s” who was run by the Mayor Chip Harrington and his daughter Sunny. You thought Sunny was a very sweet young woman who honestly looked like someone you’d get along with, however you noticed her head perked up once conversation about Conrad (watermelon head guy) started. Castiel so delicately stated, “Oh no! His head exploded” rendering everyone in the diner speechless.

  The Mayor stuttered for a moment then questioned “Excuse me?”

  “Like a ripe melon in the sun.”

  Whilst this confrontation was happening, Sunny gave you and Sam milkshakes, as Cas had refused earlier, so you were busy trying not to spit it out as you found that conversation hilarious. Chippy boy gave you the information where Conrad was last seen and then you all took off but not before Sam abruptly said “Alright, you know what? We’re leaving, bye.” And that was that.

  When you’d all arrived at the boarding house, a too cheerful Ms. Dowling greeted you at the door, and creepily said she knew you were coming because it’s a small town and things travel fast. Honestly, what is it with these people? From there, and after a brief explanation on why you all were there, she showed you to Conrad’s room and said he moved in a few weeks ago.

  Being your observant self, you came to the conclusion that the bed had been barely used but there were passionate and just plain disgusting letters under the mattress addressed from Sunny (so maybe she wasn’t so innocent, neither were you).

   At the same time Sam suggested you all stay overnight and divulge and investigate more thoroughly in the morning and yet his almost desperate tone of voice put you on edge. Obviously, you were all tired and weary but Sam was just on a whole new level of “oh this is amazing, we should stay here because it’s so cool”. So reluctantly, you and Cas agreed but not before exchanging an uncertain glance with each other, the intuition of a teenager and an angel right?

  Sam and you were sharing a room since Cas had insisted on his own, and instantly something changed with how he addressed you. “(Y/N), please take your shoes off, you’ll ruin this lovely carpet,” and “(Y/N), sweetheart, don’t you think wearing something a little more lady-like would be more appropriate, hm?” 

 All you could do what was sit and stare because not once had Sam ever been this pedantic or pathetic and he certainly had never called you “sweetheart”, so too baffled to engage in intelligent conversation, you went to bed just after Sam as you were too busy burning incredulous holes into the back if his hairy head. Struggling to grasp sleep, you softly whispered a “What the fuck?” and thank god Sam didn’t hear you because you would’ve absolutely hated the outcome.

  The next morning you were woken up quite rudely by an angel banging on your door. Blearily you struggled out of bed and opened the door, rubbing your eyes. “What time is it?” You said.

 “Time to get up, get dressed and Sam-Sam?”

 Noting Castiel’s confusion, you turned quickly in what was once Sam’s direction only to find your lovable older brother had disappeared to Chuck knows where. Great, man hunt at ridiculous o’clock in the morning. Cas immediately raced down to the stairs to seemingly find Ms. Dowling leaving you rushing to change into something more appropriate that pyjamas.

 Descending the stairs you notice the front door open and a frantic looking Castiel waiting in the Impala, waving for you to get in. Shouting a quick “thank you!” to Ms. Dowling, you sprant for the car and sat in Sam’s seat.

 Castiel started the car and you asked “So? We know where he went?” 

  “I’ve been told he left this morning saying he was going on a walk to the diner and wanted a milkshake, but only after screaming at Ms. Dowling who had her eardrums blocked with ear plugs,” he said. You nodded, absorbing the information and pondered why Sam would just up and leave for a milkshake.

  “Cas, you don’t think that there’s something wrong with the milkshake? Or like, this town in general? Because I do and Sam was being a real overbearing douchebag after you left yesterday and acting completely out of character.”

 He didn’t hesitate to nod his head, “I must admit, the strange customs have piqued my interest and Sam did drink quite a lot of that milkshake yesterday so it might be a possibility that there is a supernatural force going on here.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but you’d turned a corner and arrived just before the diner. Castiel left the car and went to inspect whilst you decided a smart move would be to ring Sam’s phone… only to find it ringing in the back of the car. Typical frustrating Winchester. 

  Placing your hands on your head, you massaged your temples and tried to think of any reasonable explanation as to what on earth was going on. 

 You heard the driver’s door being opened and looked over to see Castiel already turning the keys in the ignition. “He’s gone to Mr and Mrs. Smith's house,” was the only explanation you received.

  Suddenly determined, you nodded and said, “Alright, we’re getting somewhere, onward!” So, the car started and picked up speed, as you made your way to the Smith’s house you took a chance to observe the area a bit more.

  It was definitely something outdated and old-fashioned but the people did look happy, even if the shops were called something despicable like “The Rainbow Restaurant". It was very bright and colourful and you didn’t doubt that even if a thunderstorm hit, these people would still be acting on top of the world.

  Upon finally reaching your destination, you took notice of the white-picket fence and the massive garden. The house was huge and definitely unnecessary for only two people. Regardless, you and Cas sauntered up to the door and knocked three times respectively. On the third Cindy opened the door with a clear smile on her face and a very pleasant scent of lavender perfume. “Hello, can I help you?”

 You and Cas glanced at each other before he answered, “First of all, I’d like to offer my condolences for your husband's death but we really need to know-”

  He was cut off by a very confused Cindy Smith who said, “My husband? Honey, I think you might be mistaken. My darling husband is in the kitchen, fetching his newspaper. Justin, dear, come say hello!” 

 Again, Cas looked like he wanted to continue but a very familiar, moose-like voice interrupted “Coming darling! Won’t take two slices  of a carrot cake!” It was, unmistakably, Sam.  You gaped and stared questioningly at Cas in silent question. He merely returned your look.

  Moments later, Sam appeared in the doorway. Wearing a pair of glasses. A ponytail. And a fucking cardigan. A cardigan, because why the hell not? He wrapped his hands around Cindy’s waist and looked at us in confusion. Or sorry, at Cas in confusion, but when his gaze landed on you his face went more stern. 

 “Young lady, do you not remember what I said about un lady-like clothing? Because those denim jeans and that ridiculous jumper are hardly suitable for my daughter, little miss. I suggest you get in this house right now and put on that lovely dress your mother bought you,” he basically seethed.

  Now you were definitely the equivalent of a fish, with your wide mouth and wide eyes. You managed to compose yourself a bit before stuttering “Sam?”

 His eye twitched and there was no warning before he grabbed your arm and pulled you in the house then promptly dragged you into the sitting area. He guided you to the sofa on the left of the fireplace and very softly explained, “My sweet honey, I know that this is hard for you, but your mother and I want what’s best for you. Now, be a good girl and wait here until your mother and I have finished our pleasant conversation with our new neighbour, hm?” Then he planted a kiss on your forehead and returned to Cindy’s side to continue conversing with Cas.

  All you could think was: what the fuck?

[katsuhera]

nsfw req: what do you think ukai would punish you with if he caught you shoplifting and you had no other way to pay for your stuff?

PHEW this request made me feel things... it’s a little long but who doesn’t enjoy a bit of context ya know?? i hope this satisfies you 😌

meet me at the register

pairing: ukai keishin x fem reader

triggers/warnings: NSFW, dubious consent, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, public (please let me know if you think any other tags or warnings should be added)

wc: 2k

“yo,” rang out an unfamiliar voice from behind you.

you jumped, trying to hide the sound of crinkling plastic wraps in your hoodie pocket.

“h-hi,” you stuttered, smiling weakly as you turned to face the tall dirty blonde who stood glaring at you. “is something wrong?”

“empty your pockets, will ya?” he said flatly, in a ‘don’t-give-me-any-bullshit’ tone.

you froze. you were caught. this wasn’t your first time shoplifting, but you’d never been caught before. you swore you didn’t mean to shoplift from a small business, but you were absolutely starving and happened to forget your wallet at your friend’s place yesterday - you figured stealing a couple of snacks wouldn’t hurt anybody.

faced with having to own up to your sins for the first time, your face flushed from shame and embarrassment, you silently removed the chip bags from your pocket and handed them over.

“i’m sorry, i swear i won’t do it aga-” you started, but you were abruptly cut off.

“yeah, you better not. you still have to make it up, though,” he said harshly. you looked up in surprise. “if i hadn’t caught you, you would have just walked out with these without paying, yeah?”

dropping your eyes once more, you meekly nodded. biting your tongue, you were just wishing that he’d already force you to pay or call your mom or something, this embarrassment was almost too much for you. plus, he was super hot. in a perfect world, you would have brought your wallet and flirted with him as he rang up your items. but of course not - he had to catch you stealing.

“i don’t have any money on me right now,” you confessed. it was the truth, so you braced yourself for him to call the police or something of that sort.

“that’s fine. you can make it up to me by working the register for the rest of today,” he said, a smirk hidden in his voice.

that doesn’t… seem so bad? you thought, furrowing your eyebrows together. it’s not like i have a choice, you sighed.

“okay, of course - thank you for not calling the police or anything,” you said, your voice thick with both fear and gratitude.

“sure. sit over there,” he said, pointing to the chair. as you sat down and situated yourself, getting used to the set up and memorizing the laminated price list taped to the table, he moved the table out just a tad. you wondered why, but you figured he was just being considerate and giving your legs some more room to breathe.

“one question, though,” he said. you looked at him expectantly.

“why’d you do it?”

“honestly, i’m just pretty hungry,” you confessed.

he looked at you, pausing for just a second before he walked between you and the counter and sat, making himself comfortable between your legs under the table.

“hm. me too,” he said.

you froze, eyes widening in shock. you slowly peered down at him, his devilish eyes meeting yours as they narrowed with his wide grin.

suddenly, you were all too aware of how the pleated skirt you wore today offered no protection from the prospect of him snaking between your thighs.

“what are you doing?” you asked shakily.

“spread them, babe,” he said, still grinning. “here’s the deal: you help the customers that come in, ring up their items, et cetera. i’ll just be here making it hard for you to concentrate. if you don’t like this deal, i can call the police and cite petty theft.”

you gulped, aware of the heat growing and expanding in your core. your head was telling you no, y/n, this is wrong, but your body suddenly became desperate for his touch. you took in his features, his slanted eyes and cocky grin, paired all too well with the dirty blonde locks tucked back with a black hairband. honestly speaking, he was exactly your type. and you couldn’t deny being extremely turned on right now.

letting out a deep, shaky breath, you responded quietly. “okay, i accept the deal.”

“what’s that, princess? didn’t quite hear ya.”

“i-... i accept,” you said, more firmly.

he smiled, and you watched as his eyes darkened with lust.

“if anyone asks for me, i’m not here and i hired a part-timer for today, okay princess?”

you nodded. “yes, got it.”

immediately, you felt his calloused hands sliding up your bare legs, massaging here and there as he slowly reached the apex of your thighs. he pulled your chair in, closer to him, bringing your rib cage perfectly flush with the edge of the table.

you shuddered as his tongue left small dashes of saliva along your inner thighs, and he gradually spread your legs further and further apart. with each movement of his, you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter, the ache in your core getting almost impossible to deny.

you still could not believe this was happening. here you were, caught stealing and now paying the price for it by scanning items while having your pussy ate!!?!? your mind, basically frozen, could barely process the chain of events happening right now. the blonde man between your legs paid no attention to the way your hands were fidgeting above the table or the way your body squirmed at his touch - he just continued to leave wet trails and marks until he reached your most private part.

you let out a small gasp as you felt the pad of his finger slip past your panties, pulling them to the side.

“you’re soaked, aren’t ya?” he whispered roughly. you bit your lip. you felt like you could absolutely die from embarrassment.

you fidgeted in your seat as the wetness that was gathering in your panties started to trickle down the lips of your cunt. closing your eyes and biting down as hard as you could on your bottom lip, you tried not to moan as two of his fingers pushed their way in.

he hummed as he felt you clenching around his fingers. your slick made it all too easy for him to slip in, but as he prodded around, the clenching of your walls made it surprisingly difficult for him to exit.

he had to have a taste - he’d been conscious of you ever since you walked into the store, paying close attention to your thighs and how well complemented they were by your skirt. that’s how he caught you stealing, after all - he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

using his ring finger to keep your panties pushed to the side, he gathered some of your slick with his thumb, trailing it along your lips until he reached your clit. as he started rubbing small and pressured circles into it, his tongue danced its way into your entrance.

it took all you had not to scream. you were already building yourself up to a climax from the time he first stood between you and the counter, and now the attention he was paying to your clit and the way his tongue hungrily explored your inner walls was almost a sensory overload for you. white spots danced in your vision as your sight went hazy and dark. all you wanted was to relax back in your chair, enjoying the way this stranger enjoyed your pussy like it was his last meal. yet, you mustered the strength to hold it together in case a customer walked in.

just your luck - a group of tall, lean boys made their way into the store, the bells above the door jangling with their entrance. they looked over to you, a confused expression shared amongst all their faces. you tried smiling, trying desperately to ignore how quickly you were hurtling towards your orgasm.

“where’s coach ukai?” one of them, a gray haired boy, asked.

who the fuck is coach ukai? you wondered distractedly, and it took you a second to put two and two together. oh. it’s probably the man whose head is sandwiched between your thighs.

“ah… he’s not here today,” you said breathily. “he hired me as a part-timer just for today.”

a couple of the boys cocked their head quizzically, but seemed to accept your answer readily.

“i see, thanks!” the gray haired boy said, smiling, and the group made their way between the aisles.

as they passed out of your line of vision, you slumped, letting out a long but quiet sigh. as if he knew how close you were to cumming, he started to alternate his tongue with a finger, using his tongue to pay attention to your outer lips while he explored that critical, spongy spot inside you with his finger.

that was all you could take. your orgasm hit you, nearly knocking the breath out of you. hot waves of pleasure rolled over you, and you tried to restrict your shuddering to a minimum, for fear of attracting attention. you were sure that if any stranger were to watch you from outside, they’d think you were having a stroke.

the man continued his assault on your cunny, repeatedly stroking your g-spot as he massaged your clit and lapped up your juices with his tongue. you slammed your elbow on the table, pushing your forehead into your palm, grabbing hold onto your hair as you rocked the last waves of your orgasm out. of course, the boys from earlier chose that exact moment to be done shopping, and came up to the register.

“just these items for today?” you asked them politely, hoping desperately that they couldn’t hear the unsteadiness in your voice.

“yep!” an orange haired boy said cheerfully, smiling widely at you.

you read over the price list, trying your damnedest to make sense of the words and numbers on it, and somehow managed to ring up their items correctly. luckily for you, they were making their order as one group, instead of individually.

“thank you!! have a good day!!” the boy said, waving to you as he bounced towards the exit. the rest of the boys smiled and waved politely at you too as they left.

your sigh of relief could not have been any louder, and the man, finally pleased with the orgasm he gave you, removed his face from your thighs.

he grinned at you once more, wiping his bottom lip with the back of his hand. your eyes could barely focus, your mind going completely blank from just having to balance one of the best orgasms you’d ever had with the mental strain of adding prices and social interaction. looking down at him, you supposed your emotions were completely visible, as he laughed heartily.

“well,” he started. “you good?”

“y-yeah…” you said shakily. you couldn’t keep up the pretenses any longer. your mind and body were both completely exhausted and overwhelmed, and you were vaguely aware of the wetness between your thighs. your brain was still coming down from its high.

he got out from beneath the table and opened a drawer, pulling out what looked like a clean towel. crouching next to you, he gently wiped the slick and saliva from between your thighs.

you looked at him, tired and bewildered.

“sorry if you weren’t expecting this today,” he said, smiling lightly. after wiping his hands with the towel, he extended his hand to you.

“i’m ukai, ukai keishin,” he said. “i hope you’ve learned your lesson to not steal anymore. or, you could continue, and seek other ways to repay me.”

it was something about his voice - no, it’s the orgasm, y/n, your inner voice told you flatly - that stirred something inside of you. making eye contact with him, and seeing that the embers of lust from earlier hadn’t completely been fanned out, your heart skipped a beat.

“maybe…” you started, unsure of how to approach your feelings. “yeah. repaying you sounds good.” you took his hand.

he chuckled, moving his hand to cup your cheek.

“anytime works for me,” he whispered.

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[tooruluv]

Kei Tsukishima x F!Reader ( part 7 ) [ final ]

❝ they were the sun and moon, destined to be together but only ever totally meeting once every hundred years or so. ❞

description: in a world where you only see color when you're in love, you've grown frustrated of the greyscale. but falling in love with someone you barely know was never something you planned. and, him not returning the feelings definitely wasn’t planned.

genre: soulmate au... except not quite. everyone is born colorblind. you can only see color once you fall in love (and it grows brighter until you see full color as the love grows). however, that doesn't ensure a lasting connection. it simply means that love exists in that moment, until it doesn't.

word count: 1,879

warnings/notes: that’s all folks!! thank you all for reading and leaving feedback on this one <3 it was my first time writing a soulmate au so i hope it was okay for the most part fsjklhalfkh anyway! enjoy and please leave feedback <3

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“ if you could only see how blue her eyes could be..  ” - if you could only see, tonic

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

You decided to keep your distance. You couldn’t be his friend when your heart continued to be shattered at a measly “no”. 

As he walked you home in silence that night, you considered a thousand different ways to get rid of the colors. To get rid of the love you had for him.

It was incredibly toxic, you thought, to continue to be friends with a boy your heart pined for.

You still volunteered with the Karasuno team. It was a bit strange, though, because you would do your best to either stay behind with Hinata and Kageyama, or you would leave with Ukai. Anything to get you out of walking with Tsukki and Yamaguchi.

Hinata was the first one to notice that things weren’t the same (always the observant one). 

“Did something happen with you and Tsukki?” He asked you after practice as the both of you cleaned up the last of the volleyballs.

“I can see color, and he can’t.” You confided.

“We knew that.” 

You chuckled, considering if you should tell him. In the end, you figured “what’s the harm?”, so you said, “We kissed. And even after that, he still couldn’t see color.”

He audibly gasped. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“It is not your place to be sorry.” You fluffed his hair. “Are you all done for the night?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Staying away from Tsukishima was harder than you anticipated. 

He was in your class, he had lunch the same time, he was on the team you voluntarily helped with. Everywhere you went, he seemed to be there.

“Do you really think the colors will finally go away?” Haru asked you.

You three were sitting at a picnic table at lunch. It had been almost a week of avoiding the boy and the colors were still as vibrant as ever. You figured falling out of love would be harder than falling into it.

“I hope so.”

At the same time, Tsukki and Yamaguchi walked by. They both looked your direction, and you only exchanged a small look with Yamaguchi.

“They miss you.”

“I know.” You returned to your food, no longer hungry. “I miss them, too.”

One day at Blu, Tsukishima had come in with only sweatpants and a hoodie on. He seemingly just woke up and rushed out without thinking much of it.

You thought he looked handsome no matter his attire.

“What can I get for you today, Kei?” You asked in your usual customer service voice. 

He didn’t glance at you as he ordered his usual black coffee.

You were about to punch it into the register when he added, “And a blueberry muffin.”

“I heard that blueberry muffins are actually purple.” You offered as conversation. Not that you knew what either of the colors looked like.

“That’s stupid.” was his reply.

After a month of avoiding the boy, you were growing frustrated. The colors hadn’t even dimmed, let alone left. They were still bright and loud.

It was like a taunt every time you woke up.

You shoved an (obnoxious) bright yellow shirt on as you cleaned your room. It was an old softball practice shirt that you found in the bottom of your drawer. You had no idea back then how incredibly bright a lot of your clothes were. Why did your mother let you leave the house? 

It was a weekend, and you figured that cleaning your space would also help in clearing your mind. Putting on the shirt was your way of saying “fuck you” to the colors.

As you blasted music, a knock on your door interrupted. 

“What did you do to her?” Yamaguchi asked Tsukishima the day after the kiss.

“What do you mean?”

“You did something to her.” He crossed his arms. “What did you do? She won’t talk to either of us, like I have some part of whatever fucked up shit you did.”

“I…” Tsukishima pushed up his glasses. “I kissed her. Well. We kissed.”

Yamaguchi nodded, thoughts processing. “Then you rejected her again right after, didn’t you?”

“Am I supposed to lie?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “But you’ve been doing that a lot, huh?”

The knocking on your door persisted, and you eventually gave in and answered.

With a hard swing of the door, you sighed, very irritated, “What?”

Kei Tsukishima stood in front of you, hand still above your head in an attempt to knock again. His eyes made contact with yours. Those golden fucking eyes.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“No shit.”

“Why?”

“Why?” You scoffed incredulously. “You’re kidding, right? Why am I avoiding you?”

“Yeah.” Tsukki seemed sincerely confused as he shoved his hands back into his pockets. “What did I do?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You shook your head, looking away from his eyes. 

He said, “It isn’t like I’ve lied to you.”

“That’s true. You’ve been brutally honest.”

“Then.. why are you avoiding me?” Tsukki tried to catch your eyes again. 

“Because every second with you hurts, Tsukki.” Your frustration echoed in your voice. “Every second that I spend with you is a painful reminder that you don’t and won’t feel the same way about me that I feel for you. And you constantly remind me of that little detail.”

Without a moment of hesitation he said, “Telling you that I don’t love you back should help you. I don’t see what your issue is.”

“You don’t see what my issue is?” You put your hand back on the doorknob. “How’s this: my issue is you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m done, Tsukki.” You met his gaze. “I’m done. I tried to be your friend, I tried to get rid of the stupid colors. But everything I do only makes them worse. And you consistently telling me that you don’t see the same that I do and always being an avid reminder that you don’t love me back… it sucks. And I can’t do it anymore. It’s draining.”

“So you’re going to… what exactly?” His voice got louder. Angrier. “Just forget that I exist and never talk to me, or Yamaguchi, or the team again?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, clearly still pissed off. “That’s the plan.”

You were pissed that he came to your house a month after you stopped talking to him. You were pissed that all of this started with your stupid part time job. You were pissed that he was standing in front of you looking fine as hell. You were pissed that you still saw colors with every waking moment. 

You were pissed that you fell into an unrequited love.

“You can’t just…”

“But I can.”

“No, you can’t!” His voice got louder. You could raise your voice, too.

“Yes, I fucking can, Kei.” You told him. “You don’t know how many times that I’ve tried to get rid of these stupid fucking colors. I’m so over looking like an idiot because of the one person who…”

“Can you shut the fuck up for just a second, I can’t even pay attention to what you’re saying with that bright ass yellow shirt you have on.” Tsukki interrupted, grimacing as he looked away.

The entire world froze around you. He seemed to figure out what he said far too late, closing his eyes. Your heart seized in your chest and you felt as though you just got the wind knocked out of you.

“Wh.. what did you just say?” Your eye twitched. 

“Hm?” Tsukki turned to you, pretending to be oblivious. 

“What did you just say, Tsukki?” You felt tears arriving, but you were forcing yourself to stare at him. “How long have you… How long have you been able to see color?”

“Since I ordered my first black coffee.” He stated. As if it was nothing.

As if it didn’t matter.

“You…” You let the tears free fall down your cheeks. But you laughed. “You could see color this entire time?”

“Just listen…”

“No! No.” You took a step back, putting distance between you and the cause of your heartache. “You just claimed to have never lied to me, yet you’ve been lying to me this entire fucking time.”

He started to say something, perhaps explain himself. But you could barely breathe.

If your heart hadn’t been damaged enough by his constant rejections and painful “no”s, it was completely shattered now.

“You let me believe this entire time that you didn’t feel the same way about me.” You could taste your tears, but ignored it. “For nearly a fucking year, you watched me go through hell. You let me ruin my own heart and let me become frustrated with my own fucking life. You kissed me and then told me that you didn’t love me. You…”

“I love you.” He interrupted, trying to get you to stop yelling.

It was the first time he had said it, and it had slipped past his tongue as if he had been meaning to say it for months.

“I guess it’s a bit late for that.” 

You watched as the colors drained from the world. Your focus turned back to the greyscale as if a vacuum sucked every single color that had existed. 

The last color you watched dissipate was the gold in his eyes.

fin.

tag list: @vhskenma​​​​​​​​ @elianetsantana​​​​​​​​ @mini-eggs-reads​​​​​​​​ @ysasian​​​​​​ @hhwanggu​​​​​​ @i-stole-your-juice-box​​​​​ @definitelynotbianca​​​​​​ @denkithunder​​​​​ @smuttyanimeslut​​​​ @yourlocalbabybird​​​​ @theydy-madamonsieur​​ @expiredbananamilk​​ @sunandtsukki​​ @babyoomi​​ @alwaysbeanunknownfan​

[written-in-flowers]

Over Steaks and Wine

Pairing: Jin x Jungkook

Genre: Smut, Angst/ Rating: M 

Word Count: 18k

Summary: Jungkook joined ‘Jin’s Kitchen’ to future his culinary career. He never expected to develop feelings for his boss, Kim Seokjin. 

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of BTS in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you

Warning/Tags: cannibalism, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of murder, mentions torture, graphic depictions of violence, blood kink, anal sex, oral sex, rimming, exhibitionism, public sex, public blow jobs, boss/employee relationship, 

A/N: Wanted to thank @voiceswithoutlips for once again beta reading this fic for me. you’re a gem <3 and @erotikkook for doing the header!! Love you loads too <3

This is also for my bingo square “Jin x Jungkook” for the @bangtanwritingbingo​ event! ​

AO3 / Masterlist

***

"Hi, welcome to Jin's Kitchen. How may I help you?"

Jungkook gazed around nervously as he walked up to the podium. The host, a bespectacled man in black, gave him a dimpled smile. His eyes lit up, recognizing him. 

"Jungkook!" Namjoon beamed brightly. "What’s up? You’re here for your interview?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Jimin told me to just come up front and ask for Jin?”

“Jin’s the owner, and he likes to handle the interviews himself.” He leaned over the podium to him, “He told you what he might ask you, right? You’re gonna be working in the kitchen, and Jin doesn’t let just anybody in there.”

“He told me he’d ask me to make something for him, so I picked my best dish to make.” 

“Hm, that might work. I mean, I’ve eaten your food before, but Jin is like...the fucking Gordon Ramsay of this world. He’s picky, he’s critical, and he can be a bit blunt sometimes.” He then added, “If he completely tears your dish apart, don’t take it personally. This place has a reputation, and Jin takes it very, very seriously.” 

Namjoon called for someone nearby, and Jimin appeared. In a crisp white shirt, a black tie and pants, Jungkook noted the small apron around his tiny waist. He kept his dark hair around his face prettily, a sweet smile bringing up the corners of his eyes. 

“Jungkookie!” he called, taking a moment to hug him. “You’re here on time. I told him you would be.” He looked him over, “And dressed to impress, huh?”

Jungkook had chosen a black shirt and pants, hoping to God it’d be enough. “I thought I’d go with something simple. My uncle always dressed in plain clothes in the kitchen back home, so I thought all cooks wore this...do they not? Should I change?” 

Jimin chuckled, “Oh please, no. Jin doesn’t care about that stuff; as long as you cook well, I’m sure you can show up in a chicken suit and he won’t say anything.”

“Eh, he might say something about the feathers,” joked Namjoon, checking through the reservation list on his tablet. “Anyways, you guys know where he is. I’d hurry if I were you. It’s Saturday.” 

Jungkook nodded his thanks, and followed Jimin into the restaurant. Crimson wallpaper decorated with vines of black flowers went around the room, matching the dark carpeting under his feet. The tables covered with fine white cloth were topped by floral and candle centerpieces; the lights above gave the room a warm glow. The customers were well-dressed, and the china looked expensive. Compared to this, his uncle’s restaurant seemed like a dingy diner. He turned to one side of the room where a stage was set up. A band played a jazzy tune while a handsome, young man in a sparkling jacket crooned into his microphone. He followed Jimin past the crowded bar to the kitchen doors. 

The world changed once he stepped into the kitchen. Behind the pass, Jungkook saw a team of cooks at work. He saw one man working on the meat station, flipping steaks and chopping up cooked beef. Another woman mixed white pieces of flesh in a marinade, then set it aside to start working on another dish with another woman. Fire, steam, and voices filled the large kitchen. Waiters and waitresses came up to the pass, checking the tickets, picking up the finished plates and then leaving to go back to the dining area. Jungkook suddenly felt alive. The sense of urgency filled him, looking at it all from the other side. He’d been inside kitchens for as long as he could remember; he had never felt more at home than in a kitchen. 

this place is huge,” Jungkook said to Jimin, seeing a man stir a red sauce in a pot. “And he runs this whole place?”

“Yup. He’s the best. Now, where is he?” He looked through the pass for a moment, then said, “Ah, over there.”

Jimin pointed out a man in a white chef’s jacket, whisking eggs in a bowl at a nearby station. Full lips pursed in concentration, his round eyes focused on the task in front of him. It was almost as if he was alone in this kitchen; not surrounded by his employees. Jungkook awed at his concentration. He poured the eggs into another bowl, then picked up a slice of beef from a tray nearby. Breaded steak, perhaps? Beef wellington? Jungkook was dying to know. He’d seen the dishes they served on their menu, and they all looked gourmet. His uncle had told him nobody liked that “fancy-schmancy” food anymore; they liked the good ol’ comfort foods, but according to Jimin, that wasn’t true. Seeing Jin working now, moving so quickly and deftly, he saw why people came to Jin’s Kitchen. 

“Yoongi!” Jimin called out instead. 

A short man with a black undercut glared at Jimin, seemingly annoyed at being disturbed. He was working with a piece of steak and some other fancy ingredients. “What is it?” he asked. 

“Our new cook is here,” he beamed at him, gesturing to Jungkook who waved shyly. 

The cook, Yoongi, scanned him over once. Wiping his hands on a cloth, he came over to them. “You’re Jungkook then?” he questioned. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Hm,” he examined him again, then said, “You look fit. You sure you’re not a donor?” he smirked with a snort. 

Jungkook’s cheeks turned hot, “No, sir.” 

“Yoongi, don’t tease him.” Jimin balled up a paper to toss his way. “Can Jin talk now?”

Yoongi turned around to see Jin now rolling the beef in dough, “I’ll see. He’s in his zone right now. Wait here.” 

“I have to head back to my tables,” Jimin told Jungkook as the other left. “Good luck.”

He gave the younger a quick hug, then walked back into the dining room. Jungkook watched Yoongi approach the head chef. He’d been tying up the dough around the slab of meat when Yoongi started talking. It took a few calls of his name before Jin finally turned to the other. He began putting the rolled up meat into a pan, listening to Yoongi as he worked. Finally, handing them to someone else, he turned to where Jungkook stood. Like Yoongi, he observed him for a second from afar. He asked Yoongi something; the shorter man nodded and Jin returned it curtly. He finally walked over, wiping flour from his hands. 

“So, you showed up on time,” he said. “That’s a good sign. As you can see, we’re very busy.” 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Jungkook replied. “It’s Saturday night and people wanna go out to eat.”

“They certainly do.” He finished wiping down his hands, then continued, “Namjoon and Jimin tell me you’re a good cook.”

“I like to-”

“-But we don’t serve your typical run-of-the-mill, roadside bar food,” he cut in. “We serve only the finest dishes here. Our meat is cut fresh daily and everything is made from scratch. You won’t find any microwaves or cut corners here, understand?” A loud ruckus came from behind him, “Walk with me.” 

“Yes, sir.” He followed Jin to the soup station where the sound came from. The woman manning the station cursed again as her stew began boiling once again. “Irene, Irene, Irene,” the head chef called to her, quickly crossing the distance, “you have it too high.” He turned her flames down, “I told you a ‘low simmer’! A ‘low simmer’, woman!”

“Sorry, chef,” she apologized, bowing

He sighed, grabbing a spoon to taste the stew, then nodded. “Still good. Make it better.”

“Yes, Chef.” 

He let her carry on and then moved to the ‘poultry’ station. “Since you worked in a restaurant kitchen, I’m going to assume you know your basics, yes?” he asked, watching the man slice chunks of white meat into smaller pieces. 

“Yes,” Jungkook responded, watching alongside him. 

“Do you have any actual training?” Jin tasted the soy sauce mixture next to the man, and gave his approval. “Culinary school? Private lessons? Anything credible?”

“I did go to a culinary school for four years,” the younger answered. “I’ve worked at my uncle’s restaurant, but I did work at a local place in town for more experience. I put it on my res-”

“-Donny! Donny, what the hell…” Jin marched over to the other side of the poultry station. He picked up a piece of meat, “What is this?”

“It’s-It’s the stuffed chicken, Chef,” the wiry man stammered. 

“How can you stuff chicken when it's not fully cooked?” he cut open one slab, showing the pure red meat inside. “It’s red inside still. How long did you cook this?”

“Ten minutes, Chef.”

“No, no, no,” Jin groaned. “If you want to turn it into chicken, you tenderize, boil for fifteen minutes, then marinate it in the chicken stock!” He picked out another piece, cutting and tasting a piece. “Ugh,” he frowned, “it still tastes like pork. What will the customer say when they order chicken and get regular pork flavor instead?”

“I’m so sorry, Chef,” Donny bowed his head like Irene had. “I must’ve miscounted the minutes.”

“Obviously. Put it back in the stock for another ten.”

“Yes, Chef.” 

Jin rolled his eyes and looked back to Jungkook, “So, local experience? What type?”

“Bar and grill,” he answered. “But, but, it was pretty similar to your food.”

He scoffed, “I doubt that highly.” Jin turned, walking around the kitchen again. He came by Yoongi, who had taken over his Wellington, and patted his shoulder. 

“Well, we didn’t just serve it as meat,” Jungkook continued. “We turned it into chicken, pork, and the thinner slices could taste like fish if we left them in long enough.”

“Really? Fish?” he paused, looking at Jungkook. “Interesting. Is meat the only thing you can cook?”

“No, sir,” he shook his head. “I can make desserts, soups, salads, and other courses if you’re looking for that.” 

Jin stopped to observe a pair of women rolling out dough, then stuffing ground 'pork' inside them to make dumplings. “Perfect,” he smiled at them both, nodding to let them continue. “And you’ve worked around this food before?”

“Yes, of course.” 

“Never animals?”

“No,” he shook his head. “My family...well...it’s just not something we did.” 

Jin turned to him again with surprise in his eyes. “Is that so? It was the same with my family. We’d been doing it for centuries, so why stop now, right?”

“Right.” 

Jungkook did not like telling people about what his family sold for a living. Mostly because they could be arrested for it, but his grandmother told him it was best kept a secret instead. However, when he heard about Jin’s Kitchen through Jimin, he saw it as his chance to hone his skills. Jungkook stood by the meat station again while Jin consulted the 

. He saw a raw strip of steak sitting nearby about to be put on the grill. He noticed the little bit of fat around the edges and in the meat itself. Jin looked away from the cook to Jungkook. 

“What can you tell me about this piece?” he asked him. “Just from looking at it, what can you tell me about the person?”

He paused to study the steak, then said, “For one thing, they worked out often. There’s hardly any fat on this bit, so they must have done a lot of ab workouts and cardio.” 

“Mhm, and?”

He grabbed a fork to poke through the muscle. “They were about 20 to 25 years old,” he guessed, “Since the meat is still good.”

“Why is that good?”

“Muscle begins to deteriorate after thirty,” he said. “I mean, you can still harvest them up until maybe forty or fifty, but that depends on the health of the donor. I actually learned it’s easier to turn the flesh when it’s not so young. I mean, you want it good, but it absorbed better when it’s not as thick.” 

Jin listened intently, then put the meat on the grill. He then said, “Good so far. How’d you harvest yours? Donors?”

Jungkook hesitated, and it did not go unnoticed by Jin. “Hm, I see.” 

He worried this hurt his chances. He wanted to tell him that it made the dish taste better. His uncle used to get the bodies from the morgue in town after he convinced the families they’d been cremated. When he grew up, Jungkook realized how bland the meat came out when the corpse began decomposing. He brought up the suggestion of getting their supplies fresh, quick and for free.

The travelers that drove past their roadside diner in the middle of nowhere. 

“Now, here’s the trial portion of your interview,” Jin said when they left the grill. “I’m going to give you one hour to make an entree dish of your choosing. If Yoongi and I like it, you take the next step. If we hate it, you can hit the bricks, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Feel free to use our stores for whatever you need. One hour, Jungkook. It starts now.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Jin turned on his heel and headed back into the busy kitchen. Jungkook set to work right away, heading into the freezer where the meat was kept. 

Jin’s Kitchen was the most luxurious, five-star cannibal restaurant in the country. If one searched around on the dark web, they’d find the website where a menu could be found. The location wasn’t listed, of course. Jimin told him the only way to get a reservation was through a reference or an interview process. They’d be given a special card that they showed to Namjoon, the assistant manager, at the entrance. Jin’s Kitchen stood out from other restaurants because of its gourmet menu. It had variety, flavor and a uniqueness that people liked. Jungkook knew if he wanted to impress Jin and Yoongi, he’d need to match their level of expertise. 

Jungkook started by seasoning a strip steak. He’d spent ages working on  this particular dish for the interview. He needed it to be perfect. Not a single person got in his way, scolded him for using their station, or taking up space. It seemed that they all knew he was being interviewed. However, it was not their eyes he worried about. It was Jin and Yoongi’s eyes, he felt them on him as he worked. The nerves almost clouded his judgement when mixing the coating for the steak, but he managed to maintain his focus. He had cursed himself when he had nearly burned the au gratin potatoes, but he managed to redo them to perfection. Yoongi smirked at him when he accidentally dropped the salt shaker into his pan, shaking his head before going back to his

 By the time Jin came back to Jungkook’s counter, he’d finished plating his dish. 

The head and deputy chefs stood on the other side of his counter. People around them continued working, but they did look over at the trio. Yoongi kept his eyes on the nervous Jungkook while Jin examined the dish. 

“Tell me what you got here,” he said. 

“I have strip steak with au gratin potatoes and honey-garlic roasted carrots.”

“-Basic,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. 

“Yoongi…” Jin warned, “Keep going. Classic strip steak,” he took a fork and knife nearby, “Medium?” 

“Medium, sir, yes.” 

Jin cut through it to show the hot pink center, poking the fork through its slightly firmer texture. He took a bite, chewing it thoroughly. For a moment, Jungkook imagined him spitting it out and scolding him. He was sure he was going to be kicked to the curb. However, Jin nodded, “Nicely done. This is cooked to perfection. Did you rub coffee grounds in this?” He pushed the plate to Yoongi, who took a bite. “I can tell from the bitterness up against the heartiness of the meat.” He watched Yoongi chew the meat, “What do you think?”

“It’s good, yeah,” he agreed. “Coffee grounds were an interesting choice.” 

Jin tried the potatoes. He complimented the crispy tops of the creamed potatoes. “Not too cooked or undercooked,” he asked, “Did you use parmesan cheese?”

“A bit, yes.” 

“Hm, good. It balances it nicely.”

“Thank you.” 

He liked the carrots too. “You didn’t overdo it,” Jin complimented, “with the honey garlic. It’s got that nice glaze on it too. Roasted veggies always go good with coffee rubbed steaks. Yoongi?” 

Yoongi tried it next. “You certainly know your meat,” the deputy chef said. “I would’ve picked something a bit more show-stopping, but this is good for a start.” 

For the first time, he saw Jin grin at him. It brought up his cheeks, and lifted his eyes. “I’m very impressed, Jungkook. For a moment, I thought we were gonna have to give you the boot, but you really turned it around. It’s such a simple dish, but you made it 

He took one more look at it, then continued, “I’d like to see how well you do with our other dishes. You’re hired.”

“I am?” All the nervousness in his body drained out at the words. 

“You’re experienced,” he said, “You have great talent. You know your meat; you have experience turning it too, so I’d love to see what you do with that in the future. But most importantly, you show a lot of passion for what you do. I see heart and care when I look at this plate. That’s something I take into consideration when I pick my chefs. You’ll start off in basic grill with Yoongi, then I’ll put you in other stations.”

“Oh my gosh,” Jungkook smiled. “Thank you so much, Chef. I won’t let you down. I promise!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jin grinned. “You can start tomorrow night. Feel free to order anything; it’s on the house.”

“O-okay. Yes, thank you again. Really.” 

He gave another nod, then left back to a nearby station. Yoongi stayed in front of him, arms crossed. “You’ll be on meat duty with me,” he said, “Which means I’m not going to hold your hand the whole shift.”

“I don’t expect you to, Chef.” 

“If you do need help, I’ll be glad to, but I expect you to know what you’re doing. Especially after you cooked this,” he took another bite from the steak. “I rarely take second bites, so I expect a lot of great things from you.” 

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Now get going. Tell Jimin we’re feeding you tonight. You should see what you’re going to be working with here.” 

Yoongi left him standing in front of his half-finished plate. He never felt so accomplished in his life. He’d heard so many great things about Jin’s cooking, so to have such high praise from him sounded almost unreal. He excused himself from the kitchen and went back into the dining area. Still busy as ever, he spotted Jimin by the bar waiting on drinks. The bartender, a slim man in a satin vest and white button down rolled to his elbows, was mixing cocktails while they talked. Jimin caught sight of him walking over and smiled.

“I got the job!” Jungkook cheered, hugging him. “I got the job! I got the job!” 

“Yay!” Jimin smiled brightly, hugging him tightly. “I’m so happy for you. Now we can work together again!” 

“Ahem,” the bartender coughed, eyeing Jungkook with a flirtatious glance. “Who’s your friend, Jimin?”

“Oh, this is Jungkook,” Jimin introduced him, “Jungkook, this is Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook nodded. 

“And you,” he rested his arms on the bar top and leaned forward, “You managed to impress Jin enough to get a job here. Nice. Congrats.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Free dinner then?” asked Jimin, grabbing a nearby menu. 

Jungkook grabbed the menu as Hoseok said, “If he likes you enough, he sometimes makes what you pick personally. You know, so then you can see how it’s supposed to look and taste.” 

“I hope he liked me enough then.” 

******

How in the hell had he ended up hiring him? He was sloppy, neglectful, distracted, indifferent, and all around not a good cook. He’d chosen Donny at first because they needed a porter, someone who could clean and prep the ingredients for them. Donny had then dazzled Yoongi with a “family dish”, and had gotten himself promoted to an actual chef. He had started off well at first, but his work ethic declined drastically. Apparently, being a chef of a five-star restaurant got to his head. The rest of the staff had constantly complained about Donny’s poor work and his expectation of others to do things for him. That was the reason he had been so neglectful with the chicken. Jin knew it wasn’t real chicken; it was human flesh boiled in concentrated chicken stock. Still, he had expected perfection. He had tempted Jin’s chopping hand when he showed indifference to the chef’s instructions. In front of Jungkook, Donny had blurted out an apology, but behind his back he’d said something else. 

The words had stayed in his mind even after Jungkook’s trial. He had refused to let the backhanded insult interrupt his judgement over the new cook. Jin had watched the skinny man from the afar. He had stood at the poultry station, stuffing pieces of mozzarella into a cutlet of flesh. He’d thought of keeping Donny until Jungkook was properly trained for their kitchen, but Jungkook’s handling and knowledge had put him at ease. He had a feeling he could throw the young chef into the depths, and he’d swim excellently. Jungkook had shown the passion that Donny pretended to have. He’d surprised Jin with the coffee-ground rub. Most people stick to simple dishes, but Jungkook had thought outside the box and Jin liked that. 

“Jin,” Jimin came to the pass where Jin stood, “Here’s Jungkook��s order.”

Jin took the slip of paper, and read it. He laughed out loud, “Chef’s choice, huh?”

Jimin smiled, “He wanted to see your favorite.” 

Jin couldn’t tell if the man was flirting with him or really sucking up to him. He enjoyed the refreshing change. “I think I know what I’ll make him.” 

From his resume, Jungkook was used to bar and grill types of food. Jin wanted to stray from that. Something inside him wanted to teach the younger new techniques and flavors. Picking up short ribs from the cooler, he grabbed barley and mushrooms on his way back. Jin had always made nearly everything from scratch; he hated pre-made foods. That’s why he bothered with Jackson’s business: he liked his meat fresh from the source, rather than the decaying, dead meat other restaurants bought. Yes, it was “evil”, but he’d have his food no other way. His father had taught him that much. 

“Chef?” a small voice called to him as he sliced mushrooms. He turned to see Irene standing with worry on her face. 

“What’s up?” Jin asked, turning back to his work. He needed each piece perfectly cut. 

“Please, Jin, don’t be mad, but…” she hesitated. 

Jin looked over his shoulder. “But what?”

“Someone left out a batch of flank steaks, and now they’re spoiled.”

Jin glared, but not at poor Irene. At Donny. “Who was the last person to use the flanks?”

“The person you’re looking at. He said he needed them to turn into chicken.”

“You don’t use flank for chicken,” he growled to himself. “It’s too good of a meat for that. Motherfu-” he put down the knife he’d been using, “I’ll talk to him later. We have some more in the freezer.”

Irene tried concealing her smile, “Yes, Chef.”

Jin went back to making Jungkook’s meal. He chose buttermilk-sage rolls to go alongside the meat stew. He had baked them to perfection, a golden hard outside and soft inside. As he handed Jimin the plate, another person came up to him. 

“Jin,” he recognized the outright annoyance on Yoongi’s face. His sous chef was clearly trying to hold back his frustration in front of the others, but it slowly crept out in his words. “We need to do something about Donny. He’s not at his station and not paying attention to the chicken. It would’ve boiled over if I had not come along.”

“Did you talk to him?” he crossed his arms over his broad chest. 

“I did,” he replied. “I did several times, you know that. The guy honestly does not give a fuck about anything. How did we end up making him a chef?”

“Because he tricked his way to the top,” Jin seethed. “He’s making me look stupid. I pick only the best, and here I promoted a complete idiot. Did you know he spoiled the flank steaks? Yeah, he left them out in the open outside the fridge and Irene found them.” 

The rage bubbling in his stomach slowly rose to his chest. He wanted to march right to Donny, slit his throat and drag him downstairs. Then again, what was really stopping him? “I think I know how to make up for those flank steaks,” he smirked at Yoongi. “You take charge for a while. I got some things to work out downstairs.”

Yoongi smiled at him, “Yes, Chef.” 

Jin walked over to Donny, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, Chef.” 

He led Donny through a back door that opened to a flight of stairs leading downwards. Jin’s Kitchen’s wine cellar was one of the finest in Jin’s eyes. Several different bottles of wine sat on racks along the walls and aisles in the room. Jin took him to the back of the room, and stood by a dark corner beside a rack of red wine. 

“Donny, you’ve been with us for a while now,” he said. “You...you work hard and for that you deserve a reward.” 

“Really?”

“Really.”

He looked at Jin, and moved to speak, but stopped when the wall behind Jin opened up. “This is where we keep the good stuff,” he grinned at him, letting him go through the passage first. 

A draft of cold air came through the staircase once the door closed behind them. Jin looked him over as they walked to the slaughterhouse entrance. Donny might be a bit skinny, but everyone had muscle on them. Perhaps he’d use him for chicken sandwiches or bacon wrapped scallops. Jin thought of the possibilities, opening the door into the restaurant’s personal slaughterhouse. Donny’s jaw dropped seeing the cages lining the sides of the concrete room. The fluorescent lights gave the room a greyish color, which is what Jin had wanted. In the cages, if Donny looked closely enough, he’d see them. Jackson Wang, being a human trafficker, often brought him groups of people for inspection. Jin only took the best looking ones. 

“What the fuck…” Donny whipped his head to Jin, “Is this what you do?”

“You know what kind of place we are, Donny,” he said, stepping over to a cutting table nearby. By the steel slab, he hung several types of knives. He picked up the sharpest one. “I make sure everyone knows we serve human flesh so they’re not surprised if they find out.” 

“I just thought you were taking, like, dead bodies or something!” he said in disbelief, “Not actually killing people! This shit is crazy! You’re a fucking psychopath!”

“No, no, no, my dear Donny,” Jin smiled at him. “I’m a man of taste and style. You are a lazy, ungrateful bastard with no sense of proper work ethic. First,” he stepped to him, “you embarrassed me in front of our new employee with your incompetence. Second, you continued embarrassing me by being an all-around useless chef. Third, you ruin my good steaks because you’re neglectful and stupid.” 

Donny glared hard at him, “Fuck you, you fucking fairy!”

“And you use such inappropriate, hateful language too. I just can’t tolerate your behavior anymore,” he moved further to Donny, getting a foot in front of him. He stared down into Donny’s eyes. He sensed the fear crouching inside them behind his toughness. “I’m sorry, Donny, but I’m gonna have to let you go.” 

“Hey, hey, what do you-”

In a single slash, the sharp blade cut through Donny’s neck. Blood leaked from the deep gash and into his shirt collar. Thankfully, Jin managed to only get droplets on his clothes. Not that it mattered to him. He watched Donny fall to the floor at his feet. He twitched around for a few seconds, gurgling and clutching at his bleeding neck, before finally becoming still. Jin chuckled at his pathetic body. 

Jin wiped off the blood from the knife and set it aside. He turned to a cage where a young woman sat crouched in a corner wearing nothing but her bra and underwear. Jin only gave her a wide grin and chuckled. They always looked so pathetic in this state. He grabbed both of Donny’s legs and dragged him to the plastic tarp at the end of the hallway. The whimpers of those in the cages satisfied him.

Then, he hung Donny on one of the meat hooks and started carving. He’d planned on letting Donny go once Jungkook had settled in, but not everything goes according to plan. He could take over poultry for tonight. A part of him felt even more aggravated because he had wanted Jungkook's thoughts on the dish. He had always enjoyed seeing people eat his food, whether they knew what they were eating or not. He imagined Jungkook taking that first bite and melting. Jin did not know Jungkook, and he could be completely wrong about him. Yet, watching him work tonight, he sensed the artist inside the boy. Even if he was not fully experienced, he seemed eager to learn from how he observed and listened to Jin. He’d worked so steadily with precision and care on his dish. It was as if he were a painter working on his canvas. Jin was anticipating seeing Jungkook perform again. 

****

Jungkook took to the kitchen like a fish to water. Walking in the next night, Yoongi handed him his chef’s jacket and bid him to follow. He could tell from how people moved out of his way that they somewhat feared the pale cook. Jungkook didn’t blame them. 

Yoongi showed him all the parts of the meat station, their dry pantry, their freezer and cooler. He explained how the night’s meat is prepared fresh early in the morning, and kept in the cold until lunch and dinner. Since he had proper training, Yoongi expected him to learn quickly, and Jungkook did. 

Gourmet dishes were very different from the barbeque he was used to cooking, but not so different at the same time. Yoongi kept him on cleaning and plating duty mostly; Jungkook realized that the chef wanted to see how he did when given the artistry portion of the job. 

“That looks beautiful!” Jimin commented when Jungkook passed a dish over to him. Two chuck pieces drizzled with brown sauce sat with chive-sour cream mashed potatoes on top. He’d placed some of the vegetables against the side for an asymmetrical style. “Simple but lovely.” 

“I guess.”

Jimin peered around and then asked, “How’s it going tonight? Yoongi isn’t being too hard on you, right?”

“Eh, well,” he looked over his shoulder to see Yoongi pulling steak out of a bowl of sauce, “He’s kinda tough, but I guess he has to be like that.”

“He must like you then,” he said, taking two plates to put on a large tray. “He usually berates new people at every turn.” He then gasped softly, “Gotta go. Jin’s coming.” 

He scurried away with his plates and Jungkook quickly returned to the new dishes in front of him. Yoongi had placed a few photos of what the dishes were meant to resemble, so he’d worked off of that. Fixing stuffed tomatoes on a plate, he squirted their special pesto sauce around them in decorative, lace-like patterns. He’d decided they needed more parmesan on top when Jin appeared next to him. 

“The stuffed tomatoes,” Jin said, “Very nice work, Jungkook. I’d put you on meat duty though.”

“Yoongi wanted me to learn your plating style,” he replied. “I told him I’ve never done it all fancy like this, so he wanted me to try it out.” He then asked, “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” He examined the plate by turning it around. He met Jungkook’s eyes and for a moment, he thought he’d be scolded. “Well done,” he said, “You got it down to a science. However, I’d recommend not so much cheese next time. They already put some in the mixture, and then it comes out too cheesy.”

“Right,” he nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, Chef. Thank you.” 

“You like to learn, and I like that,” Jin complimented, patting his shoulder. “Keep it up.”

Jungkook blushed at the compliment. It felt nice, getting praise from someone as renowned as Jin. The question came out before he could stop himself, “How’d you get good enough to have a restaurant?” 

Jin paused at the question, then said, “I practiced. I listened. I learned. I studied hard. It sounds boring and difficult, but if you really push yourself, you get good results. Do you want to own a restaurant someday?”

“Maybe. I’ve never really thought about it before.” He added some basil leaves to a chicken pasta dish, “I just know I love cooking. It’s all I’ve ever seen myself doing since I was small.” 

“I get that. It was the same with me.” Jin stood next to him and took up a dessert dish, stuffed cannolis. Drizzling chocolate on them, he said, “My dad ran a restaurant, but it wasn't to this scale.” He snorted, “He never told anyone about the meat. He said it was a family secret.”

“You grew up around this too then? You mentioned it last night, I think.”

“I did,” he nodded. They put the dishes on the pass, and Jin rang the bell for pick-up. “My grandfather said his grandfather started it during the war. Food was really scarce at the time, and their crops kept on dying. So, when soldiers ended up scaring off the game and taking what was left for themselves, he, um...did something about it.”

“People or the soldiers?”

“Whoever he could find,” he said. “He started off with corpses of people who’d died of hunger or were shot by the soldiers. Then he started actually killing them himself,” he passed Jungkook a meat plate while he took up the other two. “He said there’s nothing better than meat fresh from the bone. My grandfather told me a story of how his father killed a soldier and sold him in meat stews to the other soldiers. My great-grandmother used their fat for candles; my great-aunt took their clothes apart and made new ones for them to wear.” He finished plating alongside Jungkook, “You’d be surprised how many uses you can get out of a human body. Not only eating, but for supplies and goods to sell.” 

“My grandmother had a lamp made from human skin.” He did not know why he said it, but it came out anyway. His eyes widened when he realized it, looking over at Jin. 

However, the chef only smiled. “Mine had a soup bowl made from a skull. My great-grandmother sculpted it, and gave it to her as a wedding gift. I have it in my house now. I mean, I don’t use it because it’s so fragile and old, but it’s a family heirloom, so I kept it.” He grabbed three more plates that they worked on together. “Don’t use so much pesto sauce,” he instructed, “Be a little more light handed with it. Yeah, like that.” He continued their conversation, “So, was it always you and your uncle?”

“And my grandmother. My father’s still in prison and my mother died when I was young,” he passed Jimin the first plate. "So she took me into her home when my dad was arrested."

“What is he locked up for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jungkook hesitated. They had already gotten this far into the conversation. “Murder…”

Jin looked over at him when he finished his plates. “I see...for food or fun?”

“I think both?” he answered. “My grandmother said he was never right in the head. I learned about the cooking from my uncle and grandmother, but my father took me to his slaughterhouse.” 

Jungkook tried not to think about it, but it still sent chills through him. It was before he had moved in with his grandmother and uncle. He'd lived on a farm with his father until he was ten-years-old. It had always been just the two of them in those days. There weren't many animals besides the cows and chickens, but his father mainly kept them for eggs and milk. Jungkook remembered very little about the farm, to be honest. He'd been so young when it all  happened that he could only recall tidbits. As he sliced lemon pieces to decorate a pie, he remembered the woman and his father dragging her into their barn. He remembered her screams as she pleaded for her life; the way she had kicked and struggled had seemed to arouse his father. Jungkook only got involved after his father caught him watching through a crack in the barn. 

His father had laughed when he had seen the tent in Jungkook's pants.

“You have slaughterhouse experience then?” Jin asked.

“Yeah, I do.” 

Jin seemed to make a note of it, but continued working. Jungkook wondered if he’d ruined his chances of ever moving up in this restaurant. Decorating the pie with lemon slices, he remembered when he had first suggested to his uncle that they should use fresh meat. This young couple had just arrived at their restaurant, and Jungkook couldn’t help noticing the man’s stature. Lean with unblemished, healthy skin, his body was made for a few good steaks. He had told his uncle that he’d handle everything when it came to the killing. His grandmother had backed up the decision by saying the dogs would be safe now. After some convincing, his uncle had finally caved in by the prospect of saving money. He was convinced even further when he had been served a slice of the traveler in a pot roast. 

The rest of his shift had gone by smoothly. Yoongi had brought him back over to the meat station and began showing him how they prepared each dish. Unlike Jin, Yoongi seemed to have something to say about everything: “don’t put so much salt” “you cooked this too long” “you should’ve tenderized this more” “you cook this WITH the peppers and onions”. Jungkook took it more as criticism rather than a personal attack. Yoongi at least appreciated that much. 

“Nice to see Jin didn’t hire another cry baby,” said the chef as he chopped steak in a mixture of peppers and onions. “Then again,” he smirked, “It’s only your first day.”

“Don’t challenge me, Chef,” Jungkook joked. “I’d hate to embarrass you in front of the entire staff.”

Yoongi snorted, “I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.” 

“I was wondering something, though…”

“Yes?”

“Do you use a box to grab stuff from the shelf or a step stool?” he smiled mischievously. 

“Oh ha-ha, a short joke, how original,” he rolled his eyes. “I wish I had a quarter…”

“What?”

“So I can see if it fits in that honker you call a nose.”

“Oooh, a big nose joke,” he scoffed before laughing. 

“I know, I know, not very funny...but seriously,” he said, “What can you smell with that? Blood types? Fat percentage?”

They laughed together again as the dish finished cooking. The people around them watched the pair continue teasing one another the rest of the night. When closing time came, Jungkook helped clean up all the utensils and instruments they’d used. As he finished reorganizing the spices and herbs, he noticed Jin and Yoongi go into the wine cellar. He had guessed the pair deserved a nice bottle of wine after work. He thought of doing the same with Jimin and Namjoon tonight. He could use it after their busy night. Finishing up his task, he said goodnight to the other cooks. He walked back into the dining room where he caught the couple by the bar. Namjoon sat on a stool while Jimin stood between his legs. He recognized the flirtatious smiles they shared, whispering and giving brief kisses. Jungkook decided he’d rather not interrupt their moment, and sat at the bar where Hoseok was talking to the lounge singer. 

The handsome singer turned his head to see Jungkook and grinned. “Ah, you’re the new cook,” he greeted, “I’m Taehyung."

“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook replied. “I heard you singing when I came in. You’re very good.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung chuckled. “Hoseok seems to be the only person who disagrees.”

“I don’t disagree,” the bartender replied. “Somebody’s gotta deflate that head of yours sometimes. You know, to keep you humble.” 

"I am humble. But, I also know that Jin wouldn’t have hired me if I sucked.” He turned to Jungkook and said, “So, how was it, working with Yoongi?”

"It was...educational. He isn't so bad."

"If you're on his good side," Hoseok smirked, "Like Tae over here."

"Shut up," Taehyung mumbled, flicking balled up straw paper at him. He looked at Jungkook, "Come sit with us, have a drink. It was busy tonight."

****

“I suppose I should take Donny off our payroll?” 

Yoongi was standing next to Jin by the drain, hands on his hips and looking at the body hanging off the hook. The older picked up one of the shoulder pieces, placed it on a length of cellophane to wrap. He’d let the man drain overnight, now he had time to wrap the pieces. 

Jin chuckled, “I’d hope so. Dead men don’t take paychecks.” 

He started wrapping the shoulder chunk while Yoongi cut into the body hanging over the drain. The pair worked on Donny for a while, cutting pieces of him to put into the freezer. Jin wrapped up stacks of back ribs as a certain young chef came to mind. 

Jungkook’s background wasn’t much different from his own, he had realized. His father had never been caught, but he showed Jin everything he knew about the slaughtering business. His dad had taught him the best cuts of a person, what they can be used for, and how to cook them properly. He had said younger people are more tender, and healthier people have tighter muscles. He had been the one who introduced Jin to trafficking business through an old college friend. 

Jin supposed being in a wealthier family had given him options Jungkook couldn’t afford. He thought of how well the man had plated the food tonight, while Jin had gone around the dining room checking on his customers and introducing himself to first time patrons. 

“How did Jungkook do tonight?” he asked Yoongi as he flayed muscles from the bones. 

“He exceeded my expectations for sure."

Jin took that as high praise, since Yoongi had always been a worse critic than him when evaluating new employees. Tossing bones in a nearby trash can, he breached the subject, “He has slaughter experience too.” 

Yoongi began skinning an arm in slow strokes, taking flesh off inch by inch, “And?”

“And we could use an extra hand down here. He’s got the muscles to handle these things,” he nodded to the door where the cells were. “And he could help us pack these in the freezer.” 

Yoongi looked over to him and scrunched his brows, “You know we shouldn’t do that. We agreed that it was for the best to keep this between the two of us. It isn’t a good idea to bring in someone we don’t know. Remember San?”

He did remember San. A handsome man with angular features, he’d joined the kitchen staff a few months ago. He’d shown the same enthusiasm as Jungkook, and also shared slaughterhouse experience. Because of this, Jin had felt fine bringing him into their operation. Things had gone smoothly for a while before he started noticing that the women were tampered with. Jin recalled the damage to the muscles and organs when he cut them open. Drugs. Their lower halves torn and dripping with cum told him what he needed to know. Considering he and Yoongi preferred men, he confronted San.

 The man had reasoned that he was only having a bit of fun; the drugs made the women more compliant. Jin told him the drugs ruined their insides if given too much each time. He’d fired San, who then attempted to go to the police about his operation and restaurant. 

Thankfully, some money stuffed in their pockets made the police look the other way. Especially when he made San his next House Special. 

“I don’t mean that we tell him this very moment,” he said. “I meant, if we ever need an extra hand in the future, Jungkook would be a good candidate. A lot of the people here might cook the meat, but they can’t handle actually harvesting it. He’s gotten it fresh from the source.” 

“Has he?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem the type.”

Jin grinned, “Neither do we.” 

Jin thought about it some more as they worked. He rarely came across people who’d admit to having any kind of experience. He’s sure the younger man hadn't intended to say it outloud, but his excitement had gotten the better of him. Jin decided to wait for a few more months before asking. Jungkook was still new and needed to learn their kitchen and dishes more before being promoted to anything higher. He’d make a final decision later on down the road. 

Jin and Yoongi worked well into the early morning, then they closed up and parted ways. He had a feeling Jungkook wouldn’t be like San. Jin had sensed his passion for the food. Did he enjoy killing? Perhaps. He had met people who did. Did he enjoy cooking and serving the perfect dish? Yes, and Jin liked that about him. 

He had a good feeling about Jungkook. 

****

Jungkook listened to Yoongi when he taught him kitchen tips and tricks. He watched the older chef smoke and roast meat in the smoker outside. He paid attention to any detail Yoongi or Jin pointed out to him. If Jungkook’s dish was less than immaculate, Yoongi made him do it all over again. Despite the busy hours and Yoongi’s criticism, he enjoyed the restaurant. It felt good being in a proper kitchen again, working with the food he’d handled his whole life. Seeing customers enjoy his dishes brought on a pride that he cherished. 

Jin slowly became his favorite part of the job. He liked watching the head chef breeze his way through the kitchen. He'd occasionally glance over to see Jin stir frying meat or expertly chopping on a cutting board. He was always precise and focused. Jungkook could only wish to have such skills. He also admired Jin as a head chef as well. He wanted to make sure his kitchen ran smoothly and provided the best service. It was not uncommon to see him disappointed or scolding someone for presenting low-quality dishes. Jungkook did everything he could to give him nothing but good results. He liked the proud, impressed smile Jin gave whenever Jimin came back with a compliment for Jungkook. His insides warmed up when Jin approved of a technique he’d used or if he saw Jungkook putting his teachings into practice. 

And yes, Jin was very handsome. 

Jungkook had met good looking people in his life, but not like Jin. As the weeks went by, he began noticing Jin’s very wide shoulders even more; especially when Yoongi joked about putting a spice shelf on them. He noticed how his torso slimmed down to a tiny waist and went in proportion with the rest of him. He kept himself well-dressed and clean all the time, which was a big change from the truckers and farmers he used to come across back home. Jungkook remembered seeing him in a suit, fresh and neat, talking to the customers. He'd never recalled a simple outfit that made his heart flutter so easily.

“You do know he’s our boss, right?” Jimin whispered to him before his shift at the bar. Jungkook had been watching Jin through the window pass. Concentrated on plating, it was like watching an artist paint or a poet write. Jungkook found it hard to look away. 

“Huh? What?”

“I don’t blame you. Jin’s really good looking.” They watched him together, “You’re not the first employee to get all heart-eyes over him.”

“I’m not getting ‘heart-eyes’. I just like watching him work. I can learn a lot from someone like him.”

“Mm-hm,” he said, “Sure. You like watching him 

“I do. He’s very good at what he does, and...and he’s interesting to watch. You can really tell he loves what he does.” 

“You should go for it."

The question made Jungkook turn his head away from Jin. "What? No way. He's our boss like you just said."

"Yeah, and Namjoon is technically my boss and I am dating him." He picked up a tray of cocktails Hoseok passed and said, "It doesn't hurt to put yourself out there. You've been here a while now, so it's not like you're jumping into anything crazy."

"It's not like that," said Jungkook. "I admire him as a cook; that's all there is."

"But you can admire his chef skills while also admiring how he looks good in any light," teased Jimin. "Anyways, I gotta go give these to Mr. Kwon before he flips his table."

"Mr. Kwon?"

"That dude over there."

Jungkook looked to the corner he pointed to, and saw a thin man with cherry red hair coiffed and slicked back. Wealth was written all over him and a sense of cockiness went over his smile. He talked with a well dressed woman at his booth, nibbling on a piece of bread as he listened to her. 

"VIP, I'm guessing?" asked Jungkook. He'd begun recognizing the pattern in all of Jin's special, long-time patrons: rich, snobby and entitled. 

"Absolutely. Mr. Kwon Jiyong, another rich man with peculiar tastes. He's been coming here for years now. If we all play our cards right, he tips the entire staff big time. He's always bringing all his rich friends, which drums up business for Jin." He held the tray in his hands. He paused, then said, "If you want to impress Jin, work on one of Kwon's dishes. If the guy likes what you made, Jin will hear about it.”

“He’ll also hear about it if it’s complete crap,” he said. “Jin or Yoongi will want to make the dishes themselves. I can’t afford to mess up anywhere in that kitchen.” It was true. He’d only just started catching up on bills and payments he needed to make. The restaurant paid him well, and he knew if he did even better, he’d get a raise. “I gotta clock in,” he said, sliding off the stool, “I don’t want Yoongi to chew my head off.”

“Fair enough,” said the waiter. “Just keep it in mind if you ever want Jin’s attention.”

Jungkook nodded and left the bar. He spotted the pass and saw Jin leave. He must’ve caught wind of Jiyong being in the dining room, and wanted a head start. He knew that’s what he’d do in that position. Jungkook walked into the busy kitchen where a few people greeted him. He walked up to Yoongi, who stood by the meat station chopping green onions. 

“Yoongi, I’m-”

“-Chicken duty tonight,” he interrupted. “You know what to do.”

“Yes, Chef.” 

He went over to the poultry station where he saw Irene pulling strips of whitened meat out of the pot. Not completely cooked, Jungkook knew he could finish cooking it however he wanted. He took up one slip of paper asking for the garlic-ginger chicken dish. Taking it from the marinade bags in the cooler, he began cooking the slices on the stove. It smelled faintly of actual chicken, though he knew that was the stock Jin soaked the meat in. He found Jin’s process of giving the flesh a chicken flavor interesting. He’d worked in places where they did it before, but they never got the science down. Once he had finished cooking, he sliced the chicken into fine slivers. Irene delicately placed a bed of steamed rice in the center. Jungkook hoped whoever ate it enjoyed it. 

“-Jin! Kwon’s order is in!” 

Jungkook turned to see Jin take up an order slip from someone at the pass. Jin’s brow furrowed reading down the list. Then he turned to the kitchen behind him:

“Kwon Jiyong’s table!” he said to them. “I need another garlic-ginger chicken, two new york strips, one filet mignon with balsamic glaze, and 2 rosemary braised shanks!” 

Jimin’s suggestion came across his mind. He admitted that the idea of Jin smiling proudly at him gave him butterflies. He pictured the head chef coming over to him, hands behind his back, as he congratulated Jungkook on his dish. He’d suggest that they share a bottle of wine to celebrate. They’d get into deep conversation about themselves and their passions. Then, it’ll happen in a quick moment. One minute, he’ll be looking into Jin’s brown eyes and next he’ll be tasting wine on those plush lips. He’d grown fond of the strict chef over the past few months, he’d confess. He wanted to be noticed in a bigger way. He left his station and reached the pass where 

 ticket sat on the counter. Jungkook read the scribbled order, then glanced at where his bosses stood. 

Jin stood beside Yoongi, preparing flank steaks for cooking while the other crushed some ingredients with a bowl and pestle. They talked in low voices as they worked. Jungkook guessed Kwon ordered one of the steaks. He shouldn’t bother. It wasn’t his position or station tonight. He should go prepare another garlic-ginger and hope that sufficed. But a nagging voice inside him said he should start on the filet mignon. 

So he did. 

Too absorbed in their own work, nobody said anything as Jungkook prepared the balsamic glaze that’d go on top. He’d told Irene that Yoongi ordered him to change stations for Kwon’s order, and the woman believed him. Jungkook made sure every element of the dish came out to perfection. If he wanted Jin’s attention, he’d need to make a sleazy rich guy happy. Excitement and dread mingled inside his stomach as he grilled the steak. This can end either wonderfully or 

 When he finished the dish, he put it on the pass. 

“Jungkook? What table is that for?” Jin’s voice came in a hard tone, and Jungkook felt every nerve in his body freeze. 

“For, um...It’s for, um, uh, Mr. Kwon’s table?” he responded in a small voice. “I-I-I...He sounded like he had a big order, so I thought I’d help out.” 

“And who told you that you could?” he asked, fists on hips. “You were told to be on poultry tonight. You’re still training there, and I’d prefer you’d stick to your training than trying to impress Kwon Jiyong.”

“I saw nobody was working on the filet, and you know I know my steaks, so…” he felt foolish now. Jin wanted him to focus on himself, not impressing a VIP guest. “You’re right...I’m sorry, Jin. I should’ve let someone else handle it.” 

“You should have,” he nodded. “You should have asked me if you really wanted to help. What if I’d already put someone on it?” 

Jungkook paused, looking at him. Another thing he had not thought of when he started, but he noticed that nobody else was working on the steak. “Did you?”

Jin sized him up, crossed his arms, and shrugged, “Must’ve slipped my mind.” 

They shared a stare. Jungkook knew at once why Jin did not give the assignment to anyone else. He nodded, and said, “I’m sorry I did not ask you, Chef. You’re right, I should have.” 

“You better hope Kwon likes it. Get back to your station.” 

“Yes, Chef.” 

He worked with nerves weighing him down. Jin must’ve known he’d take the chance. He didn’t know whether to feel proud or to be worried. He finished a few more meals before he heard Jimin's voice. 

"Jin, Kwon wants to meet the chef that made his meal."

Jungkook froze by the boiling pot. He turned to Jin, who stood looking at Jimin. He then met Jungkook's eyes, bidding him to come along with a head nod. He handed off his work to Irene, then headed towards Jin. He already imagined all the harsh criticism he would hear from the man. He saw himself losing his job because he thought he could do this. As he walked through the restaurant, he kept his eyes on the booth where Kwon Jiyong sat. He'd hoped Jin might give him some instruction on how to act with him, but he said nothing. They approached Kwon's table where the man finally noticed him. 

 "Ah, Jin!" he beamed brightly, "I knew it was you who cooked this! It is marvelous!"

"Sorry, Jiyong, but it wasn't me who made your meal tonight," Jin shook his hand, "It was one of my newer cooks." He gestured over to Jungkook, "This is Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Kwon Jiyong, one of our VIP members."

Jiyong's eyes scanned over him with a faint smirk on his lips. He was truly handsome up close. The people around him seemed eager for his attention, especially the woman beside him. However, having Jungkook in front of him, he no longer took any interest in her. He grinned at Jungkook, "Well don't you have the face of an angel? How old are you? "

"Twenty-three, sir," answered Jungkook. 

"You're still in culinary school?"

"I graduated last year, sir."

"A bit fresh from the academy, no?" Jiyong asked Jin.

"I overlooked that when I tasted his interview dish. He has tons of experience backing him up," answered Jin. "He has a lot of raw talent and passion that I admire."

"It definitely shows in his food," said Jiyong. "Everything was cooked exactly how I wanted it. How did you know I liked my steak medium? Jin here dropped some secrets to impress me?" 

"Lucky guess?" Jungkook suggested. "Most people who order it order medium-rare or medium, so I went with medium."

"A very lucky guess," grinned Jiyong.  "The food was delicious," he looked Jungkook up and down again, "I look forward to eating more of it in the

"

Jungkook blushed under the attention, "Thank you, Mr. Kwon."

"Please, call me Jiyong,” he extended his arm and they shook hands. “Jin, I want Jungkook as my cook from now on.” 

“Of course, Jiyong,” said Jin, forcing a smile on his face. “I’ll tell Eric.” 

“I’ll let you two get back to work,” he said, dismissing them and picking up his drink. “I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook bowed. “It was nice meeting you.”

“And very nice meeting you,” Jiyong winked, and Jungkook tried hiding his red cheeks. 

Jin said his goodbye, and steered Jungkook from the table. He did not know what it was, but he sensed the distaste in Jin when they reached the kitchen. His boss turned around to face him once the doors shut. 

“Seems Kwon really likes you,” he said. “I hope you know that means he’ll expect nothing short of spectacular whenever he shows up.”

“I assumed as much from how much everyone freaks out when he's around.”

“It doesn’t seem like it right now, but he can put a lot of pressure on you. Especially because you’re…” 

“I’m what?”

“Well, you know,” he did not meet Jungkook’s eyes as he said, “His type. Um, you know, young, good looking, and...and yeah. Kwon likes pretty faces, so he’ll probably keep wanting to see you as well as have you cook for him.” 

Jungkook smiled at him. Did Jin find him attractive 

He liked it. “I’d hoped that he’d like my cooking more than my looks.”

“I mean, I’m sure he liked that too. If he didn’t, he would’ve said so.” He straightened himself up, “I’m only saying, you should be a bit wary of him.” 

“I will, Chef.” 

He found himself wishing Jin looked at him like Jiyong had done. Yes, Jiyong was handsome, but Jin surpassed him by miles. 

"You did well though," said Jin, breaking through his thoughts. "And I'm proud of you."

"Really?" He asked, smiling widely. 

"Yes, you did well and made Jiyong happy. That's what I expect from my cooks. Well done."

"Thank you, Chef."

"Let's get back to work then."

He took one more look at Jin, then started back to his station. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered the rest of his shift. 

****

Jiyong continued coming by and asking for Jungkook after meals...and Jin hated it. He hated how the wealthy man charmed and flirted with the young chef. He hated the way he smiled and stared at him. Jin wished he could ban him solely for the reason that seeing Jungkook sitting beside Jiyong after shifts pinched his nerves. Jiyong wasn't even that interesting. He had as much depth to him as a kiddie pool. He didn’t even admire the true art of their work. He'd started eating human flesh out of trend, not because he 

 it. Jin could always tell a true enthusiast from the curious. He knew Jungkook truly liked their food. He didn’t even need to disguise it. 

"Jungkook, what are you doing?" he asked him one night after closing. 

He'd been grabbing a merlot to take home when he caught the young man in the kitchen. On his plate sat a steaming steak with potatoes, and beside him a beer bottle. 

"Oh sorry, Jin," said the younger. "I, um, found the last of the tenderloins in the back so I thought I'd take it to be done with it."

"You didn't season it?" he asked, coming closer to see the steak in their basic house seasoning. 

"Um, uh, not in our usual fancy way, if that's what you mean," he answered. "I don't know if it's only me, but sometimes I feel using chicken or beef stock ruins the original flavor. I like to enjoy it as it is once in a while, you know?"

"Here," he grabbed two measuring cups and he set down the wine. "You won't be spoiling my tenderloins with meager beers. A nice merlot is what it needs." He poured them each a cup and then they clinked them together before drinking. "I know exactly what you mean," he said, taking a seat. "My dad said it was good to have it as is. He didn't really like me disguising it the way I do here, but it'd be far too bland if I served all the food like this." 

"It does help people transition into it, I suppose. Honestly, people scoff at it, but we're no different than animals." He took another bite from his steak. He savoured it. Jin could see it and he enjoyed the feeling. "A lot of my uncle's regular customers thought they were eating actual pork and beef."

"It's mind over matter at work. People here think if they ignore what this really is, they can swallow it better." He took a drink of his wine, taking in before swallowing. "I know for a fact some of the others around here only applied because of how much they get paid. I rarely meet people who truly have a passion for what we do here."

"Same," he washed his food down with the wine. "When Jimin told me what you really serve, I needed to see it for myself. Most cannibal restaurants are little dingy clubs, not gorgeous five-star places like this. The things you do with human meat are incredible. I've seen people try changing the flavors before, but you really nailed it. How'd you pull it off?" 

"It took a lot of trial and error, to be honest, and help from Yoongi. He's just as much responsible for this place as I am. He grew up in a similar environment to us, and he understands the real reason we continue this lifestyle. "

"He's passionate...like you," he said. 

Jin swore he spotted pink in Jungkook's cheeks. "So, you and Jiyong," he said carefully, "Anything going on there?"

Jungkook looked up from his plate and laughed, "Seriously, Jin?" 

"What? He comes around here a lot and I've seen how you get around him."

"I get the way anyone would when someone like Jiyong gives you attention. Yeah, it's nice to have a hot guy like him flirt with me, but he's not really my type."

This news made Jin’s heart skip a beat. "He's rich. He's young and handsome. So many people would kill to be you."

"Yeah, he's rich and all that, but he's so…" he stifled a laugh, "Obnoxious. He's always name dropping and telling me he bought this condo building here or how he was on the cover of some posh magazine. I don't really care about things like that." 

"You don't? Most people would love to meet someone who can give them the world on a silver platter. Jiyong could do that for you. "

"Eh, I 

really need a lot, " he shrugged, chewing another piece of steak. He finished it off and set the plate aside, wiping his mouth, he said, "I'm happy with my apartment and doing what I love. I don't need designer clothes or a penthouse downtown. I'm happy with what I have here."

Jin chuckled, "You really are a simple farm boy, huh? Not that there's any shame in that. I grew up in a similar place. We lived outside town so we didn't have any nosey neighbors around. It's harder to get meat if you have Debra from down the block peering through her blinds all the time. "

"Sometimes neighbors don't matter. My dad got caught because one of the girls escaped from the barn." He paused once he realized what he'd said. "Um, uh, I mean-" 

He raised a hand to stop him, "No judgement here. I told you my family had a similar practice, remember?" a thought then came to him, "Did you carry on that tradition when you moved in with your uncle?" 

Jungkook studied him for a moment, then said, "I did. My uncle wasn't a fan of it, but the stuff came out so much more tender when we bypassed the morgue and went straight for the source. Decayed flesh doesn't have the same kind of kick even after it's cooked. You can control their weight and tenderness while you still could if you do it the old fashioned way." 

He considered these words, watching Jungkook finish off his wine. He noticed the passion sparkling in his eyes when he talked about their trade. Jin would not admit it but he'd looked into Jungkook once he started working for him. He did it as part of the standard hiring process. He found out who Jungkook's father was and what he'd done to his victims. He imagined it'd been shocking witnessing that as a child, but that did not seem to deter Jungkook from his appetite. He recalled seeing his own father "tenderize" a man in front of him as part of a cooking lesson. He'd given Jin the instruments and instructed him from afar. Jin recalled how aroused he'd become by the blood and screams; he shuddered thinking of how his blade sliced cleanly through the flesh, the pain his victim must've felt at his actions. He remembered the pleasure heightening when he finally tasted the fruits of his labor. He never told anyone what he'd done later on in his bedroom. 

 would normally ask Yoongi ahead of time, but Jin knew the other chef would approve. He'd become fond of Jungkook, whether he admitted it out loud or not. "If I showed you something, would you promise to keep it to yourself? A lot of people might be disturbed if they knew."

"You mean where you and Yoongi get your meat fresh?" he asked, smirking at Jin's surprised expression. "I can tell from the taste alone. When you've spent long enough eating decaying flesh, you can tell the difference. Also, I've started noticing you and Yoongi going to the back every Monday and Thursday. Full grown bodies last a few days if you chop enough of them."

Were he not his boss, Jin would've kissed him then. "I knew you were smart. Come on, Yoongi is down there now."

"Do you think he'll be okay with it?"

"I think so. He likes you and it's less heavy lifting on his part."

He led Jungkook to the cellar and through the passageway. Painful screams echoed in the descending staircase. It sent shivers down Jin's spine. He imagined what mischief Yoongi must be up to that it'd cause such a ruckus. He reached the holding cells where the captives pushed themselves as far from the bars as they could. 

"Wow," sighed Jungkook. He stopped by the first cell, where a young woman tried avoiding eye contact. "You keep your slaughterhouse underneath the restaurant?" 

"We do. It's easier to transport and carve them up down here rather than somewhere else. Nobody else knows about this besides Yoongi and I."

"What if one of them tries to escape?" Jin heard the concern in his voice. 

Jin came to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder, "They don't. The main doors and cells have automated locks, and there aren't any windows in here. Only Yoongi or I can open them." He looked into the cage where the half naked girl stood, "We buy them from a trafficker in town. When you think about it, we're doing them a favor." 

"Favor?"

"

 my guy didn't sell them to us, he'd be selling them into sex trafficking rings." Jin bent down to meet the woman's eyes, "And I don't know if this is just me, but I'd rather die once than die a thousand times as my dignity is slowly stripped away. Being made into a fine gourmet dish sounds better than becoming somebody's fuck hole...don't you think so, sweetheart?"

He began explaining their process as Jungkook observed the cages. For a moment, Jin saw disappointment cross the younger's face when he said they did not torture here. Clean killings make sure they get as much undamaged flesh as possible. He supposed the man enjoyed playing with his food before eating it. Jin bit his bottom lip imagining the scene. 

"Eat goddamnit!" Yoongi's voice broke through their conversation. They caught Yoongi at the end of the aisle, poking a cattle prod into a cell. 

"I said 'eat'!" Yoongi growled, pushing the electric rod between the bars. "Eat it or I'll make you!"

"Yoongi," Jin interrupted his threats, "What's going on?"

"This little fucker won't eat! We need him to bulk up or otherwise there's no point in keeping- woah, what is 

doing here?"

"I thought perhaps Jungkook could join us in the slaughterhouse? He pretty much figured it out on his own, so there's no point keeping him out of things. He has some experience in this too."

Yoongi sized him up for a moment, then handed him the 

. "Get him to eat."

Jungkook hesitantly took the cattle prod and held it lightly. Jin was worried for a moment that he'd made a mistake. Perhaps Jungkook was more accustomed to being a watcher. He was considering  taking the prod before Jungkook shoved it between the bars. Jin didn't say anything as Jungkook shocked him over and over. The thin man gasped and shuddered along the floor after each shock. He eventually looked at the bowl Jungkook pushed his way. Still, their captive continued protesting, calling them every name in the book and spitting at them. Jungkook only poked him more, the electricity sparking against his bare skin each time. The delight in Jungkook's eyes appeared almost childlike as he poked the man again. He threatened to keep going, in such a low tone, if the man didn’t listen to them. He giggled when he shocked the prisoner on his way towards the bowl. He smiled over at Yoongi and Jin when the man began timidly eating, his hand shaking as he spooned it into his mouth. 

"Good boy," smiled Jungkook. He handed Yoongi the rod, then said, "How'd I 

?"

Yoongi took the rod from him and said, "Alright. Just alright."

He put the rod away while Jin explained the slaughterhouse rules and protocols. Should another employee find out about it, they'd be expected to take care of that employee. It was important they kept it a secret, something Jungkook knew how to do well. By the time they got to work, Jin knew he'd made the right decision. 

****

Jungkook liked working in the slaughterhouse. It reminded him of the times he would accompany his father, who showed him everything he knew about carving flesh from bones. He went down to the underground area with Yoongi and Jin twice a week. On Mondays, he helped Yoongi pick out choice meats from the cages, then they'd flay, debone, wrap and store them for the restaurant. 

Thursday, he stood with Jin as he picked from the trafficker's selection. The trafficker, a man named Jackson, brought six to eight people for Jin to examine. Jungkook particularly liked this night. Not because he was allowed to rough up or torture them mildly with the cattle prod, but because he got to spend the night with Jin. He enjoyed being in his boss's company the most. He felt honored Jin trusted him enough to help with such important work; he did whatever he could to make sure Jin was pleased. Sadly, he knew nothing would come from this. Despite the daydreams of them confessing feelings over a worktable or Jin asking him on a date, they still were boss and employee. It'd be wrong. 

Then again, their entire operation was considered wrong. 

So, he stuck to Jiyong, who still flirted and admired him from time to time. Jungkook slowly became weary of the billionaire and his boasting, but he knew outright rejecting him might not end well. Jimin told him Jiyong will eventually get bored of him and move onto someone else, so he waited for that. He focused on his 

 instead of worrying what Jin thought of Jiyong being all over him. 

It’d amused him at first when his boss thought there’d been something there, but then he thought about it more. Jin seemed most bothered whenever Jiyong asked to see Jungkook; he found out the man had even flat out refused on one of their busier nights. Namjoon said it was very unlike Jin to deny a customer, especially a VIP, of anything they wanted. Jungkook wondered why that might be, and that little glimmer of hope made its way into his heart. But, of course, that was only a suspicion. But a nice one. 

“How come you’re not working in the kitchen this Saturday?” Jimin asked in the breakroom a month later. “You always work Saturday and that’s The Showcase night. We’re gonna be packed, so the tips should be good.”

Jungkook looked at the posted schedule, seeing the Saturday slot filled in with ‘Show’ instead. Above it was the word ‘Showcase’. Jungkook learned from Yoongi what that word meant for Jin’s Kitchen when he first started working there. Once a month, the restaurant held a special event for guests which involved them voting on the fate of whichever poor soul Jin bought from Jackson. It could be anything from simple whipping to live dismemberment. Jungkook often missed the main events because he’d be in the kitchen for most of it. The entire staff earned extra that night from the tips and guest’s participation fees. If he’s off that night, he won’t be getting anything and he thought of the overdue electric bill on his table back home. 

“

?” Jungkook stood at the door of Jin’s office, seeing his boss typing out paperwork, “How come I’m not working this Saturday? I always do.”

“You are working,” he said, “I just didn’t put you on a station this week. I thought you might enjoy helping out with the show instead.” He gave a small grin, the kind that puffs the tops of his cheeks, and said, “Eric can’t help this time, and I couldn’t think of anyone who’d enjoy working on it more than you. You’ll still get paid and get whatever tips the staff splits amongst themselves.” He then said, “If you’d rather work in the kitchen that night, then it’s fine. I can put someone-”

“-No, no, no,” he cut in quickly. “I’d love to help with the show! I didn’t sign up for it though.”

To be honest, he hesitated signing up for the crew because of the man in front of him. He worried what might happen if he watched this gorgeous man work on a live person. Jungkook already pictured him shirtless, bloody with a knife in his hand. He pictured those muscles rising and falling in each breath; he imagined Jin pushing him onto the work table, nearly tearing off his clothes as he railed him. He worried signing up for The Showcase put him within touching distance of the person Jin was deep inside. 

“What would I be doing?” he asked. 

“We’d figure it out on that day,” he said. “You can either work backstage, assist or perform. Taehyung’s the MC, as you know, so that position is always taken.”

“Will you be performing that night?” Jin normally didn’t, since someone must run the kitchen, but the question came out before he stopped himself.  

“I will actually,” he smiled. “Yoongi will be taking care of the kitchen that night, and it’s been so long since I did anything for my own event. Hey,” he said, having a sudden thought, “why don’t you assist me? That way I can show you how everything works before you do your own performance.”

The offer surprised him. “You want to actually work with me?”

“Well, Jungkook,” laughed Jin, “I work with you in our slaughterhouse so I see what you’re capable of. I think you’d be great for The Showcase.” 

“Um, uh, yeah. I’d love to help you with the, um, you know, the show.” 

Seeing Jin smile at him again made his heart flutter. Jin’s ability to turn him into a puddle of mush in seconds was deadly. Jungkook thanked Jin for the opportunity, then started his shift. He thought of all the possibilities of the show. 

already felt close to Jin because of the slaughterhouse, but now he could work closely with him on something non-work related. Jin might keep the two separate, but Jungkook noticed it. He noticed the glee in his eyes when he broke bones or sliced up flesh. Jin liked hurting them just as much as he did, and it intrigued him. He imagined all the things Jin could teach him outside of cooking. He couldn’t wait for the night. 

****

He had never felt so nervous. He’d been on stage before, of course, but he still felt those knots in his stomach. Jungkook imagined all the ways he could mess up: he could forget a cue or his mind could draw a blank and he’d stumble over himself. He might mistake a butcher knife for a serrated one. So many simple things could turn out horribly. He was already worried what might happen once Jin started his show. 

It was fine when he was home alone with no eyes on him, but he’d be in front of a crowd of people. He knew he’d die of embarrassment if people saw the erection he'd get in his pants. It certainly didn’t help how handsome Jin looked tonight. Dressed in a black long sleeved button down, Jungkook drooled over how it framed his torso, showing off his broad shoulders. The slacks he wore pinched at his slim waist and went down his long legs. Jungkook tried not to notice as he helped Taehyung set up the stage. 

moved the band off stage tonight so there’d be more room for the main space. They had hung all sorts of torture devices and instruments on the walls erected around the background. A pane of glass separated the stage from the audience so nobody could suddenly interrupt the performances. On the sides of the stage were monitors showing the center for those who were farther away from the stage. He gulped thinking about being seen on those. Jungkook helped put up lights and fix things onto the walls. He heard Jin direct people from behind him; he knew his boss wanted everything absolutely perfect. He had planned on helping with that. Images of Jin’s bloody hands gripping his naked body flashed before him when he hung up a knife. He thought of how easily Jin made people bleed; the way he broke them through their minds before breaking their bodies. It aroused him. 

The show started with Taehyung, in a floral shirt under a peach colored suit, brightly welcoming the guests. Jungkook stood beside Jin off stage as they watched the headliner crack jokes and warm them up. He tried relaxing through Taehyung’s opening, but his nerves didn’t let him relax. 

"Just breathe," a voice said behind him. Jimin appeared, holding his tray, and grinning. "You're going to do great."

“You think so?” 

“I know so,” he said, patting his shoulder. “Jin wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t think you’d do well.” 

He supposed Jimin was 

. Jin had seen him working in the slaughterhouse downstairs, which gave him a clear idea of what he was capable of . But, did he know what it did to Jungkook?

Hoseok went up first. Backstage workers dressed in black wheeled in a young woman in a risque school girl costume. The gag in her mouth muffled her cries and she tried wriggling out of the straps keeping her to the gurney. Hoseok smiled at the crowd in front of him, who hooted and hollered at the woman’s appearance. Taehyung, from the side of the stage, spoke into his microphone again. 

“Our first performance of the night is none other than our dear bartender, Hoseok,” he gestured to Hoseok in his surgeon’s outfit, “Who will be performing some very, very, very important surgery. Please, ladies and gentlemen, take out your tablets and vote on the fate of this fine specimen.”

Jungkook saw the guests pick out small tablets on the tables and begin scrolling and punching in votes. On a screen nearby, it showed the top 10 methods of death and torture they could pick from. Jungkook’s excitement doubled seeing the most gruesome ones reaching the top. He saw the fear in the girl’s eyes, her desperation climbing the longer the guests voted. Finally, a dinging sound went around the room and voting closed. 

“Oh ho ho,” Taehyung smiled, chuckling with the crowd, “Looks like we have some cruel people in here tonight! I love it! You all voted for ‘Face Off’! Hoseok,” he looked at the man on stage, “You know what to do.”

And the words riled up the audience. People cheered as Hoseok picked up a small scalpel, a wicked smile on his face. Some patrons turned their faces once he pressed his blade on her forehead, blood slowly coming down her face and her piercing scream coming through the speakers. Jungkook swallowed as he watched. Hoseok carefully flayed the girl’s face off; he occasionally cooed when she screamed particularly loud, but laughed right after. Jungkook saw her skin slowly coming from her muscle; he wondered what it felt like doing the work. He imagined the light pressure Hoseok must use. He thought of doing it himself one day, getting right up and close with his victim. When Hoseok held up the flayed face up to the crowd, they applauded him. However, they weren’t done. 

“We got a few perverts in attendance tonight,” grinned Taehyung, carefully listening to the earpiece he wore. “Hoseok, they wanna see this busty beauty flattened out a little.”

It was something to behold. He fidgeted in place as he watched Hoseok rip her shirt open. Jin turned to Jungkook, “You okay?”

“Um, yes,” he nodded. “Just nervous about how we’ll do. What do you think people will pick?”

“Depends on who we get,” he 

. “A lot of people like amputations and disembowelment, but that’s so…”

“Quick?”

Jin met his eyes. They sparkled in the half light of the backstage wing. How can one person be so beautiful? Jungkook worried about the reaction he’ll have being so close while Jin worked. “Yes, exactly,” he finally answered. “I prefer slow and steady. You have a whole human body in front of you. Why be so hasty, right?”

“Right.”

Hoseok’s surgery segment ended with his victim missing parts, bloody and completely still. Yoongi told him they sliced off whatever meat was left, then incinerated the rest. Irene came up next with a scrawny, pale man screaming at the top of his lungs. He sat strapped to the chair as Irene followed the patron's votes to the letter. While watching, Jungkook envisioned him and Jin working together. He saw himself running bloody fingertips over Jin’s toned, smooth skin; the contrast between the dark blood and Jin’s light skin looked entrancing in his mind. He swallowed thickly thinking of him and Jin sharing bits of their victim’s flesh. He would kill to see what those full lips looked like wrapped around his own; his mouth watered at what Jin might taste like in return. A breath hitched in his throat when someone came up behind him. 

“Are you positive you’re okay?” Jin’s hushed voice filled his ear; hot breath crept over his neck and gave him goosebumps. “You seem a bit flustered.”

“I...I’m fine. I swear,” he nodded. “I can still go on. Don’t worry. I won’t-won’t mess up or anything.”

“I’m confident you won’t,” he said. A hand came up to his waist, giving a light squeeze that made his blood pump hard. “I’m only worried about myself.”

“About yourself? What do you mean?”

“I’m worried I might not be fully focused on our performance,” he said, “Because I’ll be too busy thinking of you instead.”

“Jin…”

“I know I’m your boss and you’re my employee, but,” he buried his face into the crook of Jungkook’s neck, but didn’t kiss the skin there, “I can’t help it. You’re so depraved, demented and disturbed like me. I’ve never felt so connected to one person before. I can share my darkest secrets with you and know that you won’t judge. You enjoy them. You relish in the work; not only cooking but the carving. You like slicing and flaying and killing. You like hurting them and you like watching them be hurt.” He went back up to his ear, “Please tell me you feel that too?”

“I’ve never told anyone about my dad before,” Jungkook said. “Not even Jimin. The night you showed me the slaughterhouse, I...I felt comfortable. I felt comfortable talking about the work. I used to worry you might think I’m crazy or something, but now, I see you don’t. You understand.” He squeaked when the hand on his waist went between his thigh and hip. He could feel the fingertips brushing right to the space above his cock. It pumped more blood to his center. “Jin…”

“I want to make love to you on stage,” he growled in his ear. “I want to feel completely, utterly, and truly close to you. I know it’s sudden and if you’re not comfortable with that-”

“-No,” Jungkook intervened. “I want you to make me yours. All that formal dating stuff can happen later.” He put Jin’s hand on his crotch completely, “I want you to fill me up and make me cum everywhere.”

“Oh fuck yes…” Jin exhaled, turning Jungkook’s face to meet him. 

Their lips came together hungrily. Jungkook came to life in his arms. He had never felt this way for someone. The hole left by his father and countless lovers suddenly felt full. Nobody understood his way of life like Jin. He wanted to share everything with him. He wanted Jin to know he trusted him and that he can be trusted in return. He needed Jin. He deepened the kiss, tasting the wine Jin had drunk before the show, and wanted more. He turned towards Jin, hands on his broad shoulders as they kissed. 

“Soft or hard?” Jin asked between kisses. “Oral? Anal? I’ll do whatever you like. Just let me have you right now.”

“All of it,” he answered. “Make love to me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want.”

“Be careful what you wish for, angel,” he muttered, a smirk forming as they kissed. 

“-And now,” Taehyung’s voice broke between them, “For the final performance of the night! You’ve watched flayings. You’ve seen amputations. You’ve watched Irene make a frat boy chug acid!" The audience laughed when he paused, "But, my friends, you have yet to see a true artist! A master of torture! A demented genius! The man you know and love who feeds all your greedy, sick mouths!” he laughed at their reaction to his words. “I want you to put your hands together for our beloved head chef, Kim Seokjin!” The applause rose at the name, cheering and whistling. “He’s being accompanied tonight by our all-star chef, Jeon Jungkook!” 

Forced apart, the pair went through the double doors onto the stage. Due to the stage’s height and the set-up, he knew not many people would see the bulges growing in their pants. Jungkook’s cheeks flushed from the sudden heat between him and Jin; he craved more of it, but they had people to entertain. Jin brought Jungkook forward and they bowed to the roaring applause. 

“How are you doing tonight?” Jin asked the crowd. When they answered strongly, he smiled, “I hope you all have been enjoying our delightful show this evening, but, trust me...you haven’t seen anything yet.” He smirked over at Jungkook, who smiled widely at him. “Bring out our final star of the evening!”

Backstage hands wheeled in a short, stocky man. The man lifted his head from his shoulder, eyes heavy as he looked ahead of him. They’d fitted him into a simple shirt and sweatpants. Clearly, Jin did not need a gimmick to impress his audience. Jungkook stood to the side as the voting started. However, Jin had other ideas. 

“I’m not done,” he whispered, pecking Jungkook’s lips. The crowd wolf-whistled and called out seeing the two men share another kiss. “I said I’d fuck you and I meant it.” As the stage hands brought the man into the center of the stage, Jin carefully unbuttoned Jungkook’s shirt. Leaving the last button above his belt done, he slid his hands through the sides. “So hard,” he murmured, “You must work out often.”

“I do.”

“Delicious.” 

Jungkook did the same thing back, tossing Jin’s tie aside and running his hands inside his shirt. Jin moaned softly when a thumb found his hardening nipple. He gently tugged and sucked on Jungkook’s bottom lip as he untucked the shirt. Jin turned him to face the audience, who seemed more focused on Jungkook’s exposed torso than their tablets. Jungkook shut his eyes, feeling Jin’s mouth kiss up and down his neck. He started rubbing Jungkook's nipples to send sparks down his body. Jungkook could not get enough pleasure. When the stage hands coughed, Jin broke away from Jungkook. 

“You can’t get us all hot and bothered like that and stop!” called out Taehyung. “What a pair of teases you are!” he faked a pout, crossing his arms as he did so. 

“Start the vote,” Jin told Taehyung, who obliged them. 

He pressed his hardon into Jungkook, who pushed right back into him. They continued kissing while the guests voted on the man’s fate. He hoped it was a good one. He whimpered once Jin unbuckled his pants and sunk a hand inside. Not taking hold, he merely rubbed lightly over his length. Jungkook reached behind to do the same, feeling the outline of Jin's cock there. They only stopped when Taehyung called out the result. 

“I can feel the love in this restaurant tonight,” said Taehyung. “Our guests have spoken and our final act of the night is ‘Free Play’!” 

“Perfect,” smiled Jin. “What turns you on the most?” 

“You,” he whispered back. 

Jin laughed, “What method, angel?”

Jungkook chose a pipe, which Jin used expertly. They'd chained the man to the ceiling so he dangled around like a worm on a hook. He looked so helpless, sobbing and begging them to stop. Jungkook rubbed himself seeing the thick rod hit each appendage and split the skin open. He saw the hunger in Jin’s eyes as blood and bone began showing through. The pain must’ve woken their victim from his sleepy state, since he began groaning and crying out in each hit. Jin hit the vital areas he’d normally saw through when preparing the week’s supply. Jin then handed him the pipe. Jungkook swung at his torso like a pinata. He saw bruises forming where the skin didn’t break, and shuddered. Each hit was followed by a crack and a moan. The arousal inside him grew seeing the body sway and slowly succumb to the beating. He loved breaking them. It made him feel powerful in those brief minutes. It felt even better with Jin beside him.

However, he eventually grew tired, saying that the meat was tenderized enough, and stagehands took the man back to the table. Jungkook came to the table and immediately latched onto Jin at the side. He kissed Jin's long neck, leaving small hickies here and there, while he undid the man’s pants. He saw the hardness poking into the zipper and he wanted to see more. Jin, in the meantime, began working on their drowsy victim. He pressed a flaying knife to the shoulder, slowly working it off with steady hands. 

“

 chuck is good for pot roasts,” he said breathily. “We can share it tonight, if you like.” 

“Hm, pot roasts take a while,” Jungkook replied, putting his hand in Jin’s pants and stroking him lightly. Jin facing the body, it was hard to fully stroke him this way, but Jungkook liked that. “Yoongi prepared some spicy herb marinade for tomorrow.” 

“Strip steaks with noodles and kimchi?”

“Perfect,” he smiled, kissing Jin again. “But right now, I want something else.”

He tugged Jin’s pants to his thighs so his cock came free of his boxers. The audience called out vulgar comments seeing the pulsing muscle in Jungkook’s hand. He rubbed the leaking tip slowly as Jin finished breaking the last of the bone from the live body. Their victim’s howls of pain drowned out Jin’s deep groan. Jungkook could not resist. He wiped his hand onto the bloody table, then went back to stroking, using the blood as a lubricant for now. Jin coated his fingers in the sticky substance before sliding them into Jungkook's mouth. The guests could see everything due to the cameras on stage. They could see Jungkook slowly suck Jin’s bloody fingers; they could see his own cock pushing in his pants. 

“How about we take him out, huh?” Jin asked in a moan, licking leftover blood from his lips in their kiss. “I want to see all of you.”

Jungkook let go and Jin pulled down his pants. “Oh goodness,” he moaned, wrapping a hand around the shaft, “Look how nice it is. Not too long or thick. You’re fucking throbbing in my hand…” Jin kissed him hungrily, “I can’t wait to see what it looks like when cum is shooting out of it.” He then wiped blood from the body and started stroking him back. They both stood beside the dying body, locked in a passionate kiss as they felt each other. 

“Check out that ass too!” someone in the crowd said. 

“Let’s not forget that,” Jin told Jungkook, who whined as their pleasure mounted higher. “Ass is the best part, isn’t it? Especially this one.”

Jungkook nipped Jin’s neck, moaning when one hand started kneading his ass cheeks. Jin put more blood on his fingers and slid them over his entrance. “Jin…” he moaned, giving Jin’s cock a light squeeze, “Jin, oh my god, like that. Just like that.” He kissed him hard, tongues sliding over lips as they kissed. “Keep working. I like watching.”

Jin turned away, but Jungkook didn’t stop touching him. Both of them facing their victim again, who was barely holding on, Jin started in on the chest chuck pieces, which involved more skinning and separating bones. He stopped rubbing Jungkook’s ass hole and raging cock, but Jungkook could still feel the impression they left behind. Jungkook groaned in time with their victim’s cries; he made sure Jin heard them in his ear. The audience occasionally told Jin to pay attention to his aroused, needy boyfriend, and he did. He’d grab, squeeze and slap Jungkook’s firm ass; he’d spread his cheeks so they saw Jungkook’s tight hole. He’d hold Jungkook close to him, kissing slowly, as he slipped two fingers into him. Jungkook loved how those digits felt inside him; they gently stretched and filled him. Whenever Jin got close to the prostate inside, he’d retract and go back to working. Jungkook wanted his attention all to himself. 

He  sank to his knees, sliding underneath the table, and slid Jin’s tip in his mouth. Anyone sitting up front would be able to see him, which is what Jin wanted. A mixture of precum and metallic blood touched his tongue, and he swallowed eagerly. Jin stopped working, hands on the table as Jungkook rolled his tongue around the pulsating bulb. Smooth on his tongue, he had no trouble taking in each inch until it hit the back of his throat. Some people shouted they wanted a suck next, to which Jin responded:

“You’d end up in a stew!” 

He held Jin in his mouth and sucked tenderly, satisfied by Jin’s low groans. Jin ceased working, put a hand in Jungkook’s hair and pushed him closer to the base. Jungkook held onto his thighs as he focused on relaxing his throat. It felt good. It felt so good. Finally, his fantasies were coming true. He began bobbing his head up and down at a steady pace that awed Jin. Jungkook kept his eyes on Jin as he pleasured him; he wanted him to know how much he enjoyed this. When Jin brought him out from under the table, he gave Jungkook the opportunity to work on the body. He started splitting the rib cage when Jin knelt behind him. Jungkook jumped a bit when he felt Jin spread his bottom and lick between his cheeks. Jungkook’s surprised moan amused the audience in front of him. He could hardly concentrate on sawing the bones as Jin’s tongue rolled around his hole; he nearly stopped when he felt the tip prod him. His balls ached to be emptied, and Jin sensed this. He squeezed Jungkook’s base hard to keep it held back, then licked and teased his ass more. Swiping up blood on his fingers, Jin pushed them back inside and pumped slowly. 

“Jin…” he breathed, hunched over and gripping his butcher knife tightly, “Jin, fucking hell, you’re gonna make me...make me cum, oh my god.”

“Not yet, angel,” Jin said, planting kisses on each buttock. “Not yet. I haven’t fucked you properly.” 

He started pumping his fingers faster and deeper; he started stroking Jungkook in a way that drove him insane. “Keep working,” Jin told him, holding his fingers far inside Jungkook. “You’re not done. The organs are gonna spill out.” 

Jungkook withdrew the lungs and the heart into a metal dish by the table with shaky hands. He nearly dropped one when Jin’s fingers quickened their pace. Whenever Jungkook pushed into them, he’d stop and tell him to focus on work. The meat would go bad if he left it that way, he’d tell him. Jungkook’s knees trembled once Jin wiggled his fingers on his prostate. He thought he might burst right then if Jin did not stop. 

“Uh oh,” Taehyung said, trying to keep himself composed, “I think someone’s about to bust a nut right over that good meat.”

“I don’t think so,” Jin kissed up Jungkook’s crack to the small of his back, “Jungkook wouldn’t cum without being allowed. Right, angel?” 

“I...I-I-I, um ,uh, um, fuck...Jin, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers and standing up. “For me? Pretty please?”

“O-Okay.” 

“Good boy.” 

Jungkook’s hands ended up in the nearly hollowed carcass in front of them. Their victim had died ages ago, pale and lifeless on the bloody table. His fingers slid over the squishy muscles and flesh inside. The thick smell of blood filled his nose, but his senses nearly blocked them out. The desire built in the bottom of his groin. Jin pushed him forward and spread his legs with his thigh. He closed his eyes as Jin rubbed himself over his wet entrance. 

“Such a needy boy,” Jin chuckled seeing Jungkook push himself into the shaft for the tiniest bit of friction. “Isn’t he a needy boy, everyone?” the crowd agreed in cheers. “A dirty, needy, precious baby boy,” he bent to Jungkook’s ear and kissed the outer ridge, “You wanna be fucked now?” 

“Yes,” he whimpered. 

“I can’t hear you, angel. Do you want me to fuck you now?” 

“Yes.”

He dug himself to Jungkook, rutting his hips so that tip brushed on his hole, “Louder. Let them hear you.” 

“Yes! Yes, please! Please Jin, fuck me! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please!” 

Something wet and cold spilled down his crack, then Jin spread it around. Carefully, Jin shoved himself into him. Jungkook smiled softly, feeling himself adjusting to Jin’s length. The eroticism of the moment; the sensual, passionate movements Jin made, felt almost unreal. He stayed still as Jin took him slowly. He kept himself close to Jungkook, muttering sweet words in his ear as they made love. Having Jin deep inside him brought them closer together. They felt like two flaps of skin finally knitting back together; they were two broken bones reconnecting after a clean break. Jungkook pushed his hips to Jin’s quicker, and Jin understood the message. Jin grunted in each thrust; the obscene, slapping sounds of their bodies coming together overtook the small stage. They completely forgot the people watching and shouting suggestions at them. 

“You feel so damn good,” Jin moaned to him, wiping blood over Jungkook’s’ mouth before sticking his fingers inside. Jungkook sucked off the blood and moaned around his fingers. “I wanna fuck you all night...people here or not…”

Jungkook stopped sucking, “And I have no complaints.”

Jin flipped him over on the table. Jungkook felt the blood seeping into the back of his shirt as he leaned on the body. His hand immediately gripped his cock and he stroked while Jin went back inside. The desperation to finish became too deep. He coated himself in thick blood and stroked rapidly. Jin matched the pace, holding Jungkook’s thighs up as he pounded him. Dipping his hand into the body under them, Jin smeared more blood on each of Jungkook’s nipples. The slippery substance made it easier to harden them, but it was Jin’s mouth that amplified his arousal. He licked all the blood from Jungkook’s chest before putting it on his neck and jaw. Jungkook began doing the same: he rubbed it over Jin’s shoulder before sucking it from his skin. To do something so erotic, so intimiate, made them feel closer than before. 

“Please let me cum, Jin,” he huffed in Jin’s ear, “Please let me cum. I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Yes, you can, angel,” he said, kissing and sucking blood from his neck. “You’re taking it so well. You’re doing such a good job. Just hold it a bit longer, okay?”

They continued kissing passionately, living in their blissful moment. Jungkook looked at the enthralled crowd. He noticed a few couples had given into their primal urges as well. One couple cleared off their table and fucked like animals on the table cloth. Another woman bounced in her partner’s lap, her head back in ecstasy. Jimin and Namjoon clearly weren’t immune to it either; he caught them disappearing behind a curtain at the last minute. Taehyung, cock in his hand, watched Jin and Jungkook. Then he caught sight of Jiyong at his usual table. 

“Look how horny you make people,” Jin said, kissing underneath his earlobe. “I bet he wishes he was me right now.”

Jungkook turned to him. Cheeks and neck flushed pink from heat and blood, lips swollen from hungry kisses, and eyes full of desire, Jungkook never saw someone so gorgeous in his life. He pulled Jin to him and they kissed. Their fingers intertwined together as Jin bottomed up into him a few more times. 

“Make him wish he was,” Jin said on his lips. “Make him wish he was making you cum.” 

He let go immediately. Jungkook arched back into the body, blood matting into his hair, as his orgasm exploded. Hot streams sprayed over his exposed, sticky stomach and chest; it hit on his chin, which Jin licked up right away. Every muscle in his body stiffened and contorted to the pleasure inside him. His climax guided his body around, and brought on a never ending flow of moans for Jin to hear. Jin’s shaking arms tried keeping him up over Jungkook, but he then stood straight and pulled himself out. Jungkook kept his mouth open as Jin jerked his wet cock over him. Only a shot or two made it, yet he savored it the way he did the blood and meat under them. Jin trembled and shuddered in each stroke, but he never kept his eyes off Jungkook. Their peaks came down together; the both of them relaxed from the tightness in their muscles. Anyone not in throws of passion clapped and whistled at them. 

“Did we just start a new thing?” Jungkook gave a breathy laugh. 

“Perhaps,” said Jin, kissing him. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“I don’t...as long as I can have you to myself after.”

“Of course,” he smiled and pecked his lips. 

He suddenly took in the stickiness of it all. Thank God the slaughterhouse had water hoses. When he finally slid off the table, the tiredness hit him. He looked forward to the steak and noodles Jin had promised, and getting to look at him even more. 

****

Jin’s Kitchen is still one of the best cannibal restaurants in the world. Serving the finest of choice meats, it has wowed critics and flesh-eaters everywhere. Being headed by the renowned chef, Kim Seokjin, the dishes at Jin’s Kitchen are unique, tender and astounding. However, this infamous chef has been  eclipsed by one another incredible cook: his own boyfriend and business partner, Jeon Jungkook. A true master of meats, the young chef could turn any slab of flesh into a work of art. Of course, the artistic duo remained humble. Serving their guests the best dishes is their mission and cooking is their passion. 

‘We love doing what we do,’ said Jeon, ‘And we love doing it together.’ 

You can still catch the chefs working at Jin’s Kitchen every night. Stop by for a plate and a good show.’ 

[angryinternetduck]

Key

hello!!! this is my submission for the @1dffchallenges​​ quarantine challenge. here’s 4.3k words of fluff on you and Harry in an established relationship, quarantining together in his cafe. featuring Valentine’s Day lattes in March, neon green crocs, and a proposal or two.  

A smile curved your lips involuntarily as you walked into the cafe, breathing in the rich scent of coffee and sighing in the warm air. You shrugged off your coat, folding it over your arm and hovering around the edge of the cafe for a moment. 

It was just after lunch and the rush was fading. You tried to look nonchalant, letting your gaze drift over the various paintings on the wall, but your eyes kept darting to the cute barista behind the counter. 

His name tag said Harry, and his dark curls were hidden under a black cap. Your stomach fluttered every time he met your gaze. You’d been in there countless times, but you swore your heart rushed more each time he looked at you. 

Once he finally finished his last order and the line had disappeared, you walked over. He grinned, leaning over the counter. “Well, hello, there,” he greeted you. “Hello,” you said back, smiling up at him coyly. 

“What can I getcha?” he asked, and you hummed, looking at the menu behind him. “How about… hm. How about, surprise me?” He raised a brow, shifting forward, and said, “How about… a kiss?” He pursed his lips and closed his eyes, making kissy noises. 

You giggled, shaking your head but kissing him anyway. “This friendly to all of your customers, are you?” you asked, walking around the counter. “Only the ones I date,” Harry replied, starting on your latte.

“Yeah?” you said. “And how many is that?” 

Harry winked. “Don’t worry, love, you’re my favorite.” 

“You flatter me,” you laughed, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. Kissing you again as he walked past to grab something next to you, Harry said, “My soul purpose in life,” and you snickered. “What a sad fate.” 

Harry shrugged, nudging your leg. “I’ve learned to enjoy it.”

“Impressive,” you said, taking the cup as he handed it to you. “A Valentine’s Day Latte,” he said, and you frowned. “It’s March, H.” He smirked. “And?” You laughed, and took a sip, and he raised a brow. “Yay or nay?” You tilted your head from side to side, taking another sip before nodding your head. “Yay,” you decided, and he pumped his fist. “Success!” 

“Very Valentiney,” you laughed, and he shrugged, leaning back on the counter behind him. “That was the intention,” he told you. You peered into the glass, watching the rose petals float around in the pink colored coffee. “And pink,” you added. 

“Got something against pink, hm?” 

“Of course not!” you exclaimed. “Only makes it better!” 

Harry grinned. “Wicked.” 

There was a beat of silence, and you sighed, your smile fading a bit as you swung your legs. “So I just came from Niall’s…” Harry nodded and crossed his arms across his chest. “Right. How’s the pub doing, then?” he asked, and you shrugged. “Eh. He was telling me about closing for COVID.” 

Harry bit his lip, looking at the ground. “Right… I’ve been thinking about that…” 

“The website’s up, right?” you asked. 

“Yeah, but… I don’t think…” He sighed, shaking his head. 

“We could do deliveries,” you said, cracking a smile. “Get a few bikes.” 

“Get a tandem,” Harry replied. “Go together.” 

You shrugged. “Or I could ride on your shoulders.” 

“Do it on a unicycle. Charge extra for entertainment.” 

“And get a monkey. Make it worth their money.” 

Harry laughed, shaking his head again and putting his head in his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t know what we’re going to do.” You sighed, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “We’ll be alright.” 

He shrugged, putting his hand on top of yours and squeezing back. “Yeah.” 

***

To be completely honest, you were nervous. 

It was a few days later, and the cafe was (temporarily) closed, and Harry had sent you a text. Cafe in ten, it had said, and that was it. You saw Harry on the counter through the glass walls as you walked towards the cafe, hunched over his phone. The sign was flipped to Closed on the door, but it was unlocked, so you walked in.

“Hey,” you said, and he looked up with a grin. 

“Hey!” he said. 

You raised a brow, watching him hop up excitedly and shove his hands in his pockets. 

“Right,” he went on, looking a little more nervous than you felt as he walked over to you and grabbed your hands. “Right,” he said again, “well, I have a question.” You laughed, nervously, and said, “You’re worrying me, H.” 

He bit his lip, holding back a smile. He stepped back, and shoved his hands in his pockets again, and then pulled something out. It was a little black box, and your heart stopped when you realized what it was. 

A ring box. 

And then, he got down on one knee, and your hand flew to your mouth as you stepped backwards. You loved him - of course you did - but you’d barely been dating a few months. You hadn’t even moved in together. It was way too soon for this. 

You began, “Harry -” but he cut you off, saying your name quietly as a smile tugged at his lips. “Will you make me the happiest man on earth…” He opened the box, so slowly, and despite yourself, you were curious about the ring he picked, and then - 

Your heart dropped back down to your chest from your throat. 

It was a key. 

You caught your breath, laughing in surprise as you buried your face in your hands. 

“... and quarantine with me?” 

“You fucking bastard,” you laughed, catching your breath and shaking your head. “I was getting ready to reject you, you fucking moron!” Harry smiled, so smug, and raised a brow. “And? Is it still a rejection?” 

“Of course not,” you breathed, still giggling as he stood up and you wrapped him in a hug. “Of course I’ll quarantine with you, idiot.” Harry laughed, kissing you gently but murmuring, “Somehow the insults don’t seem like a good beginning.” 

“Jesus Christ, we’ll kill each other,” you said with a grin. 

“And live happily ever after as ghosts.” 

“Whoever takes over the cafe will be haunted out of their minds.” 

Harry smirked. “Damn right.” 

***

Harry pouted, leaning into you. “One more.” 

“You said that ten minutes ago.” 

“But it’s so… hard,” Harry whined, kissing you again. 

You smirked. “Hard, huh?” 

“You’re not making this any easier,” Harry mumbled, glaring at your outstretched hand but then groaning and pulling himself up when you just walked away. “You’re a bloody tease,” he complained, following you down the steps. 

“And you’re bloody lazy.” 

“Maybe we should camp out in the cafe,” Harry said. “‘s empty anyway.” 

“Yeah, right,” you replied as you reached your car. “Neither of us could handle that - you look like you helped Frankenstein reanimate his monster with that posture, and sleeping on the ground would not help.” 

Harry scoffed, swatting at your shoulder as you grabbed a box. “If my back’s that bad, maybe I shouldn’t be carrying your entire apartment in a box, hm? Ever think about that?” He grabbed a box anyway, and you laughed, kicking the door open for him with your foot. 

“It’s a sign of how much you love, me, H, and it is not my entire apartment.” 

“Might as well be,” Harry grumbled, huffing exaggeratedly as you reached the top of the stairs. Living directly above the cafe was incredibly convenient, you were learning, in all times except moving. Then the two flights of stairs were just torturous. 

Despite that, you’d made your way through almost all of your belongings - which really wasn’t that much, Harry was just being dramatic - and only had a few more boxes to go. If you’d keep moving, it’d probably take less than an hour, but… 

“We deserve a break,” Harry declared, plopping down on the sofa again. 

“H, we just -” 

“Pretty please?” Harry said, giving you puppy dog eyes. 

“It’s gonna take -” 

“Pleeasse?” 

Finally you sighed, curling up next to him. “I can’t believe this is happening,” you murmured after a second, and he shrugged, kissing your forehead. “I can.” You smiled, looking up at him, and said, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, and he kissed you. You sighed, leaning into him. “Maybe we can get the rest of them tomorrow,” you mumbled, kissing him back. You shifted around to settle on his lap, and you felt him grin against your lips. 

“Your first good idea of the day,” he said happily. 

***

It only took a few days to fall into a routine. 

It wasn’t a very productive routine, but it was a routine nonetheless. 

Mornings were leisurely, spent in bed whispering nonsense under the covers or sharing lazy kisses. Lunches were ordered or made in the kitchen, fumbling over recipes and making a mess. Nights were the most action of the day, which was mostly just popcorn fights and giggly somersault competitions around the floor in front of the TV. 

You probably made it through every single show of interest on Netflix, plus every single romantic comedy on the face of the earth. TV show reactions varied. Sometimes they’d keep you quiet, entranced in the worlds they created, and other times they were too ridiculous and far fetched to be believed and the dialogue would get lost in your laughter. Rom-coms tended to be a mix of gushing tears and snickered comments under your breaths. 

You made competitions out of memorization, attempting to recreate the sword fights in the Princess Bride with chopsticks as you danced around his apartment and singing over each other as you rapped lines from Hamilton. 

So really, you thought, listening to Harry snore with a smile, overall, not too bad. 

***

“Pink walls,” you said, “with green trim and orange polka dots.” 

Harry shook his head. “All green. Plus mustard yellow.” 

“And orange polka dots.” 

“Pink polka dots.” 

“Fine. And blue stripes.” 

Harry snickered, leaning forward off the back wall of the cafe and propping his chin on his fist. “We’ll give them a headache so they’ll get coffee just to stop the pain.” You nodded. “That’s the plan,” you agreed, and Harry raised a brow, turning his head to look at you. “The plan, hm? I thought that was just your atrocious eye for color.” 

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk, mister neon green crocs.” 

“That was one time.” 

“One time too many.” 

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “I’d paint the whole place that same shade of neon green just for something to do.” You bit your lip, then stood up, dusting your hands on your pants. “Let’s… let’s dance.” 

Harry just stared at you.

“C’mon,” you said, a smile growing on your lips as you held out your hand. 

More staring. 

“Harry,” you whined, giving him puppy dog eyes. “Please?” 

“We don’t have music,” he said. 

“We have our phones!” 

“Mine’s dead.” 

You grinned, pulling yours out of your pocket. “Mine’s not. We can slow dance to… uhhh… to Etta James.” Harry groaned, leaning back against the wall. “I have no energy. We should sleep.” 

“It’s eleven.” 

Harry laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s eleven.” 

“C’mon, old man,” you replied, plugging your phone in and starting a song. 

I Wanna Dance with Somebody started playing, and you held out your hands as you sang to him, “Clock strikes… upon the hour… and the sun begins to fade!” Harry laughed again, sliding down to the floor and watching as you pranced around the empty cafe. 

“This is hardly Etta James, love.”

“Well, I’m hardly slow dancing by myself…” You raised a brow, holding out your hand again. “Unless…?” Harry grinned, shaking his head. “Oh, no,” he said, “I’m quite enjoying the show. I’d hate for you to stop on my account…”

He finally got up when the chorus hit, and you squealed in excitement. You pulled him around with you, laughing when he attempted a few moves and then encouraging him when he pouted at your mockery. 

You saw him biting back a smile, and you couldn’t help but kiss him when he spun you around and dipped you low as the song ended. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” Harry said, grinning against your lips. 

You grinned right back, pressing closer. “And what a wonderful way to go.” 

“You know,” Harry began after a beat, “after all that dancing -” 

“- it was one song -” 

“- I don’t know if I can walk back up all those steps.” 

You smirked, leaning into him and sliding kisses against his jawline. “You know… the one place we haven’t quite broken in yet…” Harry laughed. “Hardly sanitary, what you’re implying, you know…” 

“We’re good cleaners,” you murmured. 

His fingers slid your sleeve off your shoulder. “And we do need something to do…” 

“Really doesn’t make any sense to go back upstairs,” you whispered. 

“No sense,” Harry agreed with a grin. “None at all.” 

***

“What if,” Harry mumbled the next morning, waking you up with soft kisses against your cheeks, “I left you… to go be a part… of the next Frankenstein remake...” You giggled, nosing into his shoulder. “Is it really that bad?” He pouted at you miserably. “Worse.”

You grinned, rolling over. “What’s the assistant guy’s name?” you asked. “Igor?” 

“No idea,” Harry sighed. “We gotta watch that movie again.”

“Maybe you’ll find out when you audition for the part.” 

There was a beat of silence, and then Harry groaned as he sat up and cracked his back. 

“You sound like an eighty year old,” you laughed. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much.” 

“At least there’s coffee right there,” you said, sitting up and grabbing Harry’s discarded shirt as he pulled on his boxers. “And food…” Harry yawned, stretching his arms towards the ceiling. “We should learn French,” he said as he opened the mini fridge under the counter. 

“French, huh?” 

“Or Italian.” 

You shrugged. “Or Spanish.” 

“Or Spanish,” Harry agreed, cracking an egg into a bowl. “Or Arabic.” 

“Mandarin.” 

“Gaelic.” 

“Czech.” 

“Russian.” 

“Urdu.” 

Harry smiled, whisking the eggs. “All of ‘em.” 

“We’ve got time.” 

“Wanna help out, lazy bum?” Harry asked, spraying a pan with oil with a teasing smile on his lips. “Or should I do all of this myself?” You grinned, replying, “It’s good practice for your role as an assistant,” but standing up and popping bread in the toaster anyway. 

“Think Frankenstein ate eggs?” 

“Wonder if he had chickens,” you said. 

Harry grimaced. “Probably had a few zombie ones.” 

“Think their eggs taste better or worse?” 

“Oh, better, definitely - they’re just green,” Harry said seriously, and you laughed as you slid the toast out of the toaster and onto a plate “Want some zombie eggs and ham, Sir Sam?” you asked, grabbing utensils. 

“But I don’t like zombie eggs and ham,” Harry said with a pout, coming around to sit next to you at the counter. You raised a brow, crunching on some toast. “What happened to ‘better,’ huh?” 

“Right, well, that’s my opinion,” Harry replied as he scooped some eggs. “I’m sure Sir Sam -” He frowned, pausing. “Wait, ‘sir’? He’s not a… he’s a knight?” You snorted, shaking your head. “I have no idea, babe.”

Harry tsked, giving you a disappointed look. “You should really be more knowledgeable about the classics,” he chastised. You raised a brow. “Classics, huh?” Harry grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Absolutely.” 

You smiled despite yourself, nudging his shoulder. “Okay, Dr. Seuss, whatever you say.” 

***

You woke up in front of the TV, yawning as you sat up. 

The end credits of some movie were rolling on screen. It was a film, all in French, that you had, apparently, fallen asleep in front of. Harry was asleep too, curled behind you on the couch. 

The two of you had been going through movies in foreign languages for the past few weeks, and they hadn’t actually been that bad. A few of them were mildly interesting, a few downright boring, and a few, like this one, so tiresome that you’d both fallen asleep about halfway through. 

You started cleaning up, grabbing the empty popcorn bowl from the coffee table and walking into the kitchen to slide it onto the counter. When you walked back in, remote in hand to shut off the TV, Harry was awake and yawning. 

“Riveting film, hm?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Oui, oui,” you agreed, sitting down next to him again. “What time is it?” Harry asked, fumbling for his phone. You glanced at the clock, beating him to it, and said, “Ten. We should do something.” 

“Let’s go to France,” Harry suggested, stretching out on the couch. “Buy some wine.” 

“Or a vineyard.” 

“Or both.” 

You sighed, laying back against him and watching the ceiling fan. “Imagine quarantining in France. Or Italy, or something. On a vineyard.” Harry nodded. “Would certainly be easier to learn another language, yeah?” 

“We’d be drunk half the time,” you mused. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

You smiled, and you turned to look at him in the dim lighting. “Can you imagine? Frolicking around all day in our two hundred acres, half drunk?” Harry smiled back, shifting you slightly so he could sit up next to you. “Sounds like heaven.” 

“I don’t know about the two hundred acres part,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him, “but we could certainly do the half drunk part…” Harry shook his head, grinning against your lips. “Sorry, love, I don’t do anything half arsed.” 

“Oh, my mistake,” you giggled, kissing him once more before standing up. 

“Don’t bother with the glasses,” Harry called once you were in the kitchen. 

“What are we, barbarians?” you laughed, and Harry shook his head. “No, darling, just incredibly lazy. Don’t feel like washing dishes…” You came back in, handing him the bottle of wine, and then looked around, biting your lip. 

Harry took a sip, watching you, and then grumbled, “Oh, no.” You smiled, glancing at him inquisitively. “What’s wrong?” Harry sighed, looking at the wine mournfully. “You have your thinking face on,” he sighed, “which means we’re going to do something, and this bottle will be woefully full by the end of the night.”

“You’re too dramatic for your own good,” you laughed.

Harry looked up, smiling again. “And you’re not nearly dramatic enough.”

“We make a good pair.” 

“That we do,” Harry agreed, standing up as he stretched his arms towards the ceiling. There was a beat of silence, and then Harry raised a brow, nudging your leg. “C’mon, then, out with it, what’s the idea?” 

You grinned at him. “Cookies,” you declared. 

“Cookies?” Harry echoed skeptically. 

“Cookies.” 

“Too far away,” Harry said conclusively, plopping back onto the couch.

“On the contrary!” you exclaimed, pulling him back up. “We’ll make them ourselves,” you said, and then laughed at the expression of horror on Harry’s face. “My dear rose petal,” he said, holding your hand gently in his, “my gorgeous honey pot. We are not making cookies.” 

You scoffed. “Why not?” 

Harry pouted, holding up the wine. “Because relaxation.” 

“How about… relaxation… and cookies?” you asked, taking the wine bottle from him. He gasped indignantly and reached for it, and you giggled, backing up into the kitchen as he followed you. 

“You clever minx,” Harry mumbled once you finally stopped, leaning into you and pressing kisses against your lips with a grin. After a second, you pulled away, smiling when he chased after you. “Cookies?” you asked, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. 

Harry sighed dramatically. “Cookies,” he relented. 

You shouted in victory and started rooting through the cabinets. Your favorite song came on after a moment, and Harry winked at you, coming around to help grab supplies. The two of you shouted along to the lyrics, spilling things as you measured and poured and scooped. 

It was a game of theft once the dough was mixed, stealing pinches while his back was turned and playfully slapping his hand when you caught him doing the same. Thankfully, you still had a decent sized batch when you slid the tray into the oven. 

Then you both stumbled back into the other room, and collapsed onto the couch. “We should have put wine in the cookies,” you murmured into Harry’s shoulder. Harry snickered, and then said, “That’s a grape idea…” 

You blinked. “What?” 

Harry giggled, nudging you. “Grape? Like, great? Because - wine?” 

“Jesus fucking -” 

Harry cut you off with a kiss, and you laughed despite yourself, leaning into him and letting yourself get carried away. His hands drifted, shifting you onto his lap, and your hands slid into his hair, messing with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

It could have been seconds, or maybe hours, before you came up for air, breathless and red cheeked and way too hot and bothered for just a simple make out session. “You’re being a bit mean,” Harry whispered, and you raised a brow. “Am I, now?” 

Harry nodded, feathering kisses down your jawline and behind your ear. “Too many clothes. ‘s quite rude, actually.” You giggled, leaning into him, slipping your hands out of your sweater, and then frowned. 

Was something… burning?

“Shit!” you exclaimed, jumping off of him, and Harry gasped, reaching after you. You pulled yourself together, sprinting to the kitchen, shouting, “The fucking - the cookies!” Harry groaned, walking in after you. 

They were burnt. 

Well and truly burnt. 

Harry came and stood next to you, gazing at the charred lumps of dough with a deep frown. “Fucking cock block,” he muttered, and you looked up at him, and then burst out laughing. 

After a second, he sighed, wrapping his arms around you. “This went well, didn’t it?” he said. “Oh, wonderfully,” you agreed, and you shut the oven door. “Say, Styles,” you said, turning to face him, “ever heard of Postmates?” 

“Why, no, I haven’t!” Harry replied with a grin. “You’ll have to show me!” 

You nodded, pulling out your phone. “I guess I will!” 

***

Between a few more cookie-baking-attempts, even more cookie deliveries, a couple more foreign-language films, twice that amount of romantic comedies, and even one or two morning jogs, quarantine dragged on as quickly as it probably could. Neither of you were sure how long it was going to last, nobody was, but you were constantly reminded of how happy you were Harry had asked you to quarantine with you all those months ago. 

In fact, you were being reminded of it at this very instant, because you’d woken up to an empty bed and a sticky note signed by Harry with only the words, In the cafe, scrawled in green ink. A bit nervous, you got up, and got ready, and then headed down the steps. 

The deja vu was unreal - he was sitting on the counter, hunched over his phone, swinging his legs. “H?” you said softly, and the deja vu continued. He jumped up, hands shoving into his pockets, a stupid grin on his face. “Hey,” he said. 

“Hi,” you said back. “What’s up?” 

“I, er - I wanted to ask you something,” he said, and you grinned, coming around to stand in front of him. “You’re making me nervous,” you replied, and he bit his lip, fiddling with his pocket again. 

“Right,” he said, holding back a smile. “Right, well, quarantine has been fun, yeah?” 

You raised a brow. Slowly, you agreed, “Yeah…” 

“Well, I, erm - I was just thinking…” He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “I was just thinking that I wouldn’t mind quarantining with you my entire life.” You laughed a bit. “I dunno about that,” you joked, and he flushed, shaking his head. 

“I mean - I mean, of course not - obviously, the pandemic, I just - I meant -” 

“Harry,” you interrupted softly. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, smiling again. “Well, I have a question.” 

“So you keep saying.” 

He laughed, finally pulling his hand out of his pocket. But somehow, you almost weren’t surprised when it was a ring box. You grinned, glancing at it and then back at Harry but keeping quiet as he knelt down on one knee. 

“You know,” he said, and all you could think was how much he was dragging this out, “they say you’re supposed to get down on one knee because of some old Norse tradition. Apparently, getting married is like taking an arrow to the knee and, erm - and, well, you know, falling onto one knee...” He dropped down to both knees, and you raised an eyebrow. “... but I’m getting down on both, because I’ve fallen… completely… for you.” 

Before you could roll your eyes, he opened the box. 

And this time, there was a ring inside. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed. 

“Well?” 

“I thought - I don’t - this is like - but I thought -” 

Harry laughed, leaning forward. “Christ, the suspense is killing me, woman!” 

“Yes!” you gasped, letting him slide the ring onto your finger. “Shit, Harry, yes! Yes, of course!” He stood up, kissing you deeply, and you laughed against his lips. “Jesus, I thought… I don’t know what I thought - I just -” 

Harry cut you off with a grin. “Shush,” he murmured. 

You giggled, kissing him again, and then pulled back, letting your forehead rest against his. “Harry?” you said softly. He smiled, stealing one more kiss, and then said, “Yeah?” You grinned. “That Norse mythology thing isn’t true,” you whispered. 

“Bloody hell,” Harry groaned, laughing as he stepped away and shook his head. 

“Hey,” you said, pulling his back. “Hey, hey…” 

He shook his head again, still grinning. “Yeah?” 

“I love you,” you said. 

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes and mocking nonchalance. He nudged your shoulder, kissed you, smiled. “I mean… I guess I love you, too… Even if the legend isn’t true… I don’t know if I’ve fallen completely for you, though…” 

“Oh, shut up!” 

Harry smiled, and kissed you. “If you insist.”

***

and there you have it!!! really hope you enjoyed! and if you did, a reblog or some feedback would be very much appreciated. thanks for reading! 

masterlist | ask 

[deafeninggardenerpanda]

Six people met at Daroach’s Café; Daroach, Meta Knight, Magolor, Kirby, President Dedede, and Waddle Dee. Kirby was brought here by Meta Knight's sudden call, and both Kirby and President Dedede, as told by Meta Knight, brought their now unsealed gears. A tag hung on the door of the café reading, "Closed Today," so there was no need to worry about customers coming in. President Dedede glanced at Meta Knight and complained.

"What does this mean? You said your name is Meta Knight? You look like an aristocrat, what’s in it for you?"

"I'll explain everything, but first, the gears you have ... " Meta Knight was saying before Magolor interrupted him.

"The gears, put them in the box!" Magolor presented a box with a lid.

"Why did you prepare a box? For what ...? " Meta Knight asked. 

"The gears are dangerous now that the seals have melted off. The magical power in them will burst out and destroy stuff around us!" Magolor shivered in fright. "I don't know if something will happen if the three gears are gathered in one place, so I brought a box to contain them."

"I see, then let's put the gears we found in the box," Daroach said. He tossed his gear into the box.

"Put your gear in the box, too," Meta Knight told President Dedede.

"What? Don’t be ridiculous." He hugged the gear protectively. "I had a hard time getting this gear, I'm not giving it to anyone!"

"The gear might go haywire if you don’t put it in the box!" Magolor’s expression was serious. President Dedede replied nervously.

"B-but, it’s mine. Magolor, you know how hard it was to get this ... " 

"Ah! Danger!" Magolor shouted. President Dedede jumped up in surprise.  

"W-what!?"

"Just now, the gear shone brightly! That must be the signal!" 

"Eh!? Eh!? What—!? " President Dedede threw the gear in a panic. Magolor quickly caught the gear with the box.

"Now, put your gear in Magolor’s box as well ... " Meta Knight told Kirby, however, he closed his mouth when he saw Kirby’s face. His eyes were shining, and his mouth was about to drool. 

"All three gears! With these, the deluxe lunches for 100,000 people are ours!"

" ... Put the gear in the box, quickly."

Kirby didn't hear. His head was full of deluxe lunches for 100,000 people. "Chef Kawasaki's deluxe lunch! Has everyone had it!? It's amazing, on a big plate, hamburger steak, fried shrimp, and omelet rice are set, with a huge heap of potato salad ...! "

" ... Kirby, please listen to me ... "

"Let's eat it together! If everyone can't finish it, I'll finish it! It’s okay, I don’t mind!"

" ..... I'm telling you to put the gear in the box ..... "

"Yeah! 100,000 servings, 100,000 servings~! " Kirby cheerfully tossed the gear into the box. Magolor closed the lid.

"With that, crisis has been averted! The magic has been contained, no need to worry anymore."

"Then, let's move on." Meta Knight put the photo on the table. President Dedede inspected it.  

"What is this? Are these supposed to be characters ...? " 

"They’re ancient characters. It seems to be an explanation of the machine found in the diamond mine." 

"I can’t read it." 

"It's difficult to decipher, but I can understand some of it by looking in this book." Meta Knight placed the thick research book next to the photo.

"What’s it say?" Kirby asked. 

"It’s a warning."

"Warning ...? " 

"The discovered ancient machine is a fearsome thing that brings both wealth and misery simultaneously. It’s terrifying."

" ... Eh?" Kirby, President Dedede, and Waddle Dee were shocked. 

"That’s what it means!?" President Dedede said. "Doesn't the ancient machine make everyone happy? That’s what it said in the newspaper." 

"Only the aristocrats will be happy. The ancient machine has the power to turn stone into expensive treasure, which will make the aristocrats rich, however, on the other hand, a stench will fill the town and eventually cause it to fall to ruin. It holds two opposite powers."

"What did you say ...!? " President Dedede was as pale as a ghost. "That's completely different from what was written! Wasn’t the wizard who stopped the machine evil!?"

"The opposite. It was probably a wise man with the right heart who pulled out the gears. Moreover, I assume he was unable to destroy them due to some sort of special power they have, so he sealed the magical gears and hid them instead. That way, the machine would never move again."

"This is serious ...! " Kirby jumped up and shouted. "We have to tell Mr. Fugo as soon as possible! He can't start the machine!" 

"No, Fugo knows exactly what he’s doing," Meta Knight said. "He should have had an expert in ancient characters on his side and succeeded in deciphering the full text long ago." 

"Huh ...? " Kirby was wide-eyed. 

"In other words, Fugo has been planning to do this from the beginning," President Dedede said, furious. "To make money, he didn’t care about what would happen to anyone other than himself!?"

"He is that kind of person." 

"Unforgivable!" President Dedede yelled and swung his fists.

President Dedede is selfish and self-indulgent, but he has a stronger sense of justice than anyone else. Fugo’s belief that it didn’t matter if other people suffered for his own benefit—he couldn't forgive him at all.

"We have to stop this," Kirby said. "We can't give Mr. Fugo the gears!" 

Meta Knight nodded. "All of you, if you’ll lend me your strength, our hearts will be stronger as one. Let's work to stop Fugo's evil, together."

" ... Together ... huh," President Dedede offhandedly mumbled. Suddenly, his mouth warped into a snarl. He narrowed his eyes and glared at Meta Knight. "That’s funny. Why do you, an aristocrat, want to join hands with us?"

Meta Knight turned to President Dedede. "What do you mean?" 

"If the ancient machine moves again, won’t the aristocrats profit? Doesn’t sound like a bad day for you." Meta Knight’s sharp eyes flickered toward him. "Even so, you’re trying to join hands with us ... Maybe you’re planning something, too? Planning to drive Fugo out of this town instead of yourself, so you can rise up ... "

Crack ...! 

There was a loud noise. President Dedede jumped when Meta Knight hit the floor with his cane. Meta Knight snapped back.

"Don’t look down on me! I am an inhabitant of Diamond Town before I am an aristocrat! Are you going to sit back and watch this town perish in silence!?"

President Dedede recoiled under his intensity. " ... H-huh!  You’re a solid guy, for an aristocrat. You believe in what you say." It was then ...

"A-ah ... um ... Lord Meta Knight ... sir ... " Waddle Dee said quietly.

"Hm? What?" 

While everyone was talking, Waddle Dee has been staring at the photo that's been sitting on top of the table the whole time.

"This photo ... there’s something written on the bottom of it." 

" ... Hm?" Meta Knight brought his face closer to the photo.

"Here, down here." Waddle Dee stretched and pointed.

Meta Knight looked carefully. "I see. You’re right, that looks to be the case," he said. "There are small characters underneath the sentences I have deciphered."

"What!? Is it a big discovery!?" President Dedede came over and said.

"No, I doubt it." Meta Knight pointed. "Look. There are very few characters and what’s there is distorted, like a scribble. It’s probably just some sort of rough draft." 

"I-I’m sorry, I messed up ... "

Looking at the dejected Waddle Dee, Meta Knight added, "But, it's great you noticed the little characters I overlooked. Let's decipher it, just in case." 

"Decipher? How do you do that?" When Kirby asked, Meta Knight showed the thick research book he brought.

"I'll look it up in this book. I can look at the shapes and arrangements of the characters and look for similar strings." 

President Dedede leaned over the table. "What, that’s so annoying! So much work!" 

"Yeah! It might be a little too difficult for President Dedede," Kirby said cheerfully. "You can rest, I'll decipher it!" 

" ... What!?" President Dedede frowned. "There’s no way the ancient characters are gonna be deciphered by a lil’ brat like you!"

"I'm good at this kind of thing. Are you going to take a nap over there, President Dedede?" 

"Don't be stupid! You won’t be able to do it without me!" President Dedede rolled his arms, motivated.  

"Let’s do our best, everyone!" Magolor was enthusiastic. Daroach looked displeased, but there was no choice but to look into the book. 

Deciphering the ancient characters was difficult. The meaning changed greatly with even the smallest difference. Murmur, murmur, hum, hum. Everyone faced each other and exchanged opinions. 

"Hey, look. This string is ... " 

"It's similar to this. That means this says ... "

"No, wait. The length of the line is different. This one, instead ... " It was an arduous task, but little by little, they began to uncover the meaning. 

... Of course, Kirby and President Dedede were unable to keep up. They grew so tired they fell asleep on the floor. Waddle Dee suddenly raised his voice. 

" ... Ah! Lord Meta Knight, this string is possibly ...! " However, Waddle Dee's discovery was loudly interrupted by Daroach. 

"What are you doing, Magolor!" 

Meta Knight and Waddle Dee both looked up in surprise. Before they knew it, Magolor had slinked away from the table and was approaching the door. He firmly grasped the box containing the gears. Magolor laughed as soon as Daroach noticed him. 

"Bravo, bravo! Thank you all for your hard work, you guys! Thanks for collecting the gears for meeee~! " He quickly opened the door and ran outside. Everyone was frozen in place, too stunned to move by the sudden event.

"W— ... wait a minute!" The first to react was Daroach. 

"Wait! Magolor!" 

Daroach and Meta Knight quickly ran after him. Kirby and President Dedede, who were sleeping comfortably at the time, were trampled. 

"Ow ow ow ow—! " 

"What are you doing, you little—!? " The two jumped up in surprise.  

"There’s an emergency, President Dedede! Kirby!" Waddle Dee shouted. "Magolor ran away with the gears!" 

" ... Eh!?" Kirby and President Dedede looked at each other. 

"What do you mean!?" 

"That guy, he was planning to take the prize money for himself this whole time!?" 

Magolor laughed loudly as he ran. Kirby and the others desperately chased after him, but Magolor was surprisingly quick. Their view of him got smaller and smaller.

"He couldn’t be trusted after all!" Daroach shouted in frustration. "We were fooled, Meta Knight!" 

"Ah, that's right." Meta Knight jumped into the car parked in front of Daroach’s Café. Daroach jumped in as well and took the passenger seat. "Let’s go!" 

"Right! Step on it, Meta Knight!" Daroach shouted and shut his eyes tightly. The steam car accelerated sharply and immediately reached its maximum speed. They thought they could catch up with Magolor in no time, but—— 

"I won't let you! Ha!" Magolor turned around and threw a capsule that broke and spewed out clouds of black smoke. Meta Knight slammed on the brakes. The two coughed as they inhaled the fumes.

"Cough ...! I can’t believe it ...! "

"Magolor ...! " 

When the smoke finally cleared, Magolor was gone. 

Kirby and President Dedede weren't standing still, of course. 

"The chase is on! My Great King DDD XX, come to me!" President Dedede started running toward the factory where the plane was stored, but Kirby would not be defeated.  

"It’ll be my Warp Star that catches Magolor!" 

"Wait Kirby!" Waddle Dee stopped Kirby before he started to run.

"Ah, Waddle Dee! Come on, let's go together!" 

"Yeah ...! " Waddle Dee was carrying the photo of the ancient characters and the heavy research book with him. Kirby was surprised.

"You’re going to bring that!?"

"Yeah! I'll leave the flying to you, Kirby. I need to decipher this!"

"Waddle Dee ...! " They had to hurry and chase after Magolor. It would take them much longer if they had to carry the heavy book all the way to the plane, but Kirby nodded when he saw Waddle Dee's serious expression. 

" ... All right. Let’s take it!" 

Waddle Dee didn't miss any small details. He could find something important from even the smallest clue. Thanks to that, he had been able to find and repair many machine failures up to now. He would surely notice something important that everyone else overlooked. 

The two carried the heavy book, ran to the apartment, and boarded the Warp Star, together. 

"Let’s go!" With Kirby in the cockpit and Waddle Dee in the seat behind, the Warp Star took off.

< Previous | Table of Contents | Next >

[loneveenas]

#

event: 31 days of haikyuu!!

pairing: ukai keishin x reader genre: fluff summary: this blond barista can’t stop leaving bad pick up lines on your cup with every order, that it starts bothering you when you can’t find one... words: 1111

note: ENJOY MY FIRST EVER WRITTEN UKAI FIC!!!!!!

| mlist (not updated) | tag |

day fifteen — favorite coach

Carefully opening the door to the shop, you peaked a glance inside. He wasn’t there. Phew.

You strutted inside, walking up to the counter and having to wait in line before being able to make your order. Thank god he wasn’t here in today, you just wanted your caffeine and make your way back to the campus. The last thing you wanted to deal with was…

The door to the back opened and out walked the one person you wanted to avoid. That barista who always left cheesy pick up lines on your order. The last person you wanted to deal with today.

You sighed and closed your eyes for a second to let the feeling of disappointment sink in. When you open your eyes again, you see him lining up next to the other barista, taking on the next customer. You count down the line and, if they each take the other customer, you’d be up with his colleague. Nice.

But of course fate didn’t stop playing it’s part. He was a slower worker — you should have known this by now — and it just so turned out that he was next up to take your order.

You threw back your neck and decide to let it slide and you find yourself wondering what kind of lame and cheesy pick up line he would be coming up with this time around.

“Hi, what can I get you?” He asked you, putting on a wide grin. “I missed you the other day,” he slipped in before you even had the chance to make your order.

“Double caramel Frappuccino, please,” you asked of him and decide to pay attention to the menu behind him, ignoring his previous made statement. No way that he needed to know you were too busy with your university work.

“Coming right up,” he told you and went on to prepare your order for you. You were actually surprised that he went on to make it as soon as you had given him your order, which wasn’t the usual way he would operate.

Hm.

You waited your time and when he was finally done with your order, he had already placed it on the counter before you could register, sealed in a bag, completely done with a ticket of receipt already. It actually made you wonder whether or not he had added on one of his pick up lines that he was so keen on adding all the time.

“Thanks,” you said, softly.

For the first time in maybe forever he granted you one of his softest smiles in return. Only this time you were able to catch his name on his name plate.

Keishin.

After paying him the amount of money your order cost, you picked up your order from the counter and decided to stay in the shop for the first time in a long time. You were curious what he had done with your order this time.

Would it be a classic “If you were a Transformer you'd be Optimus Fine,” or “I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I have yours,” or something like last week’s classic: “Your eyes are bluer than the Atlantic ocean. And I don't mind being lost at sea”? Please, it nearly seemed like the cringe fest had opened up from the first time he decided to gift you these.

You could wonder all you want but opening that paper bag that held your order would give you the quickest answer. Holding it in two hands, trying not to look too eager, you ripped open the bag. A plastic see-through cup revealed your order with your name written to the side. You realized you didn’t even tell him your name before he got to work on your order — but it also would have sounded illogical had he asked for it yet again while you had already come to the shop multiple times before.

Placing the cup on the table in front of you, you twirl it around to find the text.

There was none.

Maybe on the bottom?

Still no text..

With your brows furrowed, you wonder to yourself: had he really not given you anything to read?

You move your hands over to the paper bag and rummage through it. Still nothing. The receipt didn’t show you anything either.

Stings shot through your heart with disbelief. Had he really taken your silence as a sign for him to stop? You were certain you hadn’t been that repulsive… Brows still furrowed, you decided to drink your Frappuccino. How could it be that he hadn’t given you anything at all. What had that soft smile meant then? You were confused, to say in the slightest.

With your drink nearly finished, you found yourself feeling done with today and not even motivated to get back to campus. You tried looking not overtly disappointed but couldn’t help but think about it.

In a slump, you left the shop, not even looking behind you.

Why had he not left anything for you? Not even a note? You were confused and couldn’t manage to focus while on your way back to campus. You tried tracing everything back: from the moment the two of you had noticed each other, to when you had given your order and him preparing it and giving it to you, to when you left the shop. It, of course, should have happened right in between you arriving and him giving you your order, but you just couldn’t pin point what or where it went wrong.

You also couldn’t figure out why you were so bothered with this to the point that it was just gnawing on your insides. What or how…

Your coffee had reached it lasts sips and you decided to down everything at once. That shot of coffee couldn’t be as bad as your brains experiencing total damage right now.

And then you suddenly stopped walking. In the middle of the street. Five hundred meters away from your building entrance.

“Oh, my god,” you whisper. “What the fuck?”

You flipped over your cup. There it was, in super small, tiny lettering.

“something must be wrong with your phone: it doesn’t have my number yet” with a ten-digit number in even smaller lettering pushed in below the text.

You snorted it out. You had been so worried that he hadn’t left anything and now he had given you his best: a stupid text with his own phone number instead of constantly asking for yours. You laughed loudly and took out your phone.

“Alright then, mister,” you mumbled, typing the number into you phone. “You win this one, Keishin.”

[ivegotthefanficinme]

Freedom Part 11 Mandalorian X Reader

Summary: An escaped slave owned by the Hutt clan, with the knowledge of dark clan secrets.  A bounty is set and the best hunter in the parsec is hired, The Mandalorian. Two vastly different paths cross. Both are scarred physically and mentally by their past. Can they ever truly be free? *SLOW BURN*

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Blood, Mentions of slavery, PTSD, Rape implications, FLUFF, Language

***This chapter is mainly fluff... much needed after the last few...

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11 (You are here)

You woke up wrapped in Din’s arms in the same way you were after the first night you spent together. The only difference was that this time you were on the small cot where you had patched Din up numerous times now and the child was curled up against your stomach.

You stirred slightly, hissing in pain as Din’s hand moved to rest on your bruised hip. 

“Are you all right?” Din asks, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, “It’s just some bruises.”

“I’m sorry,” Din whispers, brushing his lips against the back of your neck. 

You curl up against him as the kid starts to wiggle, trying to push himself upright.

“I thought he would sleep longer. He normally does after doing things like that,” Din sighs, referring to how the child had miraculously healed his back shredded from the lashes. 

“Maybe he is getting stronger,” you breath, running your fingertips along the child’s long green ear. 

You jump when a sudden light rap on the outside of the ship startles you.

“That’s probably Karga and Cara. You stay there, I’ll let them in,” Din says.

He groans as he rolls over and rises to his feet, still sore from recent events. Grabbing his helmet, he slips it on as he presses the button to lower the ramp of the ship.

You sit up, aware of how much of a mess you must look as you nod to Karga and Cara in greeting. 

“You both look like shit…” Cara says as she leans against the wall of the Crest. 

Din just sighs in response, shaking his helmeted head. 

“So what the hell was all that? I had Cara burst into my cantina on Navaro and demand my help because you and your women, who I didn’t even know about, got yourselves into some deep shit,” asks Karga.

Din looks down, resting his hand on the back of his neck covered in fabric as he contemplates his answer. 

“Well… its a bit of a long story…”

“He saved me,” You answer, looking back to your two saviors, “About a cycle ago I escaped from that place. They placed a bounty on me and Mando hunted me down… but he chose not to return me. They found us though, even though we ran and tried to stay low. They took me back… and I guess he… he came to save me.”

“So you were… are… a….” Karga trails off.

“A slave? Yes. A sex slave? Yes. Assaulted on multiple occasions? Yes. Just about all of the terrible things you can think of have been done to me,” you finish for Karga. 

You wrap your arms around your knees, bringing them up to your chest. 

“You are one strong woman,” Cara says, “You got yourself a hell of a catch there Mando.”

You sweep the little on up into your arms, holding him close to you as his little hands grab at Din’s cloak that is still wrapped around you. 

“Thank you,” Din nods to Cara and Karga, “Thank you for everything.”

“Where are you two heading to next?” asks Cara.

“Back to Navaro, I have some business to attend to,” Din replies.

“Well, then I guess we will see you there.” Cara turns to Karga and motions for him to follow her off of the Crest. 

“Hey…” I blurt, Cara turns to look at me before she steps off of the ramp, “Thank you.”

She just nods and keeps walking. Din closes up the ship and turns back to you. 

He sits down next to you on the edge of the cot, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “I’m going to take off. You should get out of those scraps and put on something you feel more comfortable in.”

You lean into his touch, pressing a light kiss to the palm of his hand. Giving him a small smile, you respond, “Alright.”

He stands and heads up the ladder to take off. You are happy to be leaving Tayips, happy to never have to come back here, never have to go back to Limax’ palace, and never having to see Gravix ever again. 

You stand from the cot as you feel Din lift the ship off the ground. You dig through the trunk Din had given you ages ago to keep your belongings and pull out a comfortable pair of black leggings and a black T-shirt, items of clothing that you had bought with the credits Din always gave you after he collected a bounty. At first, you didn’t want to accept the money from him but he insisted that you should be able to save up for something if you wanted or buy things that catch your eye in the markets you visit on various planets. 

After you change, you place what are no more than scraps of fabric that you were wearing into the trunk, along with Din’s cloak. Then you go over to his trunk, pulling out a clean and slightly less tattered cloak for Din. You throw it over your shoulder and then head up the ladder to join Din.

“I brought you something,” You say as you stand next to him sitting in the pilot’s chair.

“Hm?” He asks through the modulator. 

“A fresh cloak?”

He switches the ship over to autopilot and then stands turning to face you. You bring the cloak around him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you lift it up over his shoulders. His arm wraps around your waist bringing you closer as tuck the ends into the upper corners of his chest plate. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile at him as he tips his helmet down, the metal where his forehead would be meets yours. The beskar is cool against your skin as he holds you close. 

You both savor this tender moment, a moment you both deserved after the hardships you had both been through.

***

After landing on Navaro Din left the Crest in order to attend to his business, leaving you and the child safely on the ship. 

You assumed that he would be meeting with Karga to see what jobs he had so they could get back to normal, but after Din was gone for several hours you began to worry. It never took him this long to meet with Karga and collect a few supplies from the market.

It was nearly dark when he finally returned carrying several parcels tied with twine. You had been rocking the child, trying to get him to sleep as Din stepped up the ramp of the Razor Crest. You placed the baby down in his cradle, pressing the button to close the lid and then turned to Din.

“You were out an awfully long time. I was starting to get worried,” You say as Din sets down the packages.

“Sorry, Y/N. Things took a little longer than I had expected.”

“Why is that?”

“Well… I had to have this made…” He reaches into the pouch at his hip and pulls out what looks to be a necklace. He holds it in his gloved hand for a moment before he drops to his knees in front of you. Holding out his other hand, he invites you to kneel before him. 

You lower yourself down to your knees, “Din, what is this?”

“Y/N,” he starts, the leather cord of the necklace dangling from this hand, “We have both been through so much. But now, now I think the Maker smiles favorably down upon us. I want you to be part of my life until the end. I want you to be part of my clan, I want you to be my wife.”

Din holds out the necklace to you, the metal of the pendant shining in his palm. 

“That’s your mudhorn signet…” You gasp, “Is it… is it beskar? Din, I can’t take the precious metal of your people…”

“It’s some that I had saved in case I needed to repair my armor, and there is still plenty left for repairs. Besides, if you agree, it will be the precious metal of your people too,” Din replies.

Tears threaten to spill over onto your cheeks, “Din, it’s beautiful.” 

“Before… before you decide, there is one thing you should know.”

Your eyes raise to meet his through the visor. 

“The clan I was raised with has very specific customs when it comes to marrying outside of the clan,” he says.

“Alright…”

“After you put this signet on you must wear a veil to hide your face until we are alone after we are wed. We cannot see each other’s faces until then. I-I got one for you, it’s in one of those packages.”

You look at Din for a moment, the customs of his people are important to him, you know that. 

“If that is what it takes to marry you, then yes, whatever I must do.”

Din seems to breathe a sigh of relief, the tension he was holding in his body melting away. He was scared you would way no.

He gently brings the necklace over your head and lowers it down around your neck.

The weight of the pendant against your chest is comforting.

Din then opens one of the packages and unfolds a simple white veil. After setting the headpiece of heavy leather on the crown of your head to hold the veil in place your hands catch his.

It is strange for him to not be able to see your eyes as the veil falls into place, obscuring his view of your face.

He lowers his forehead to meet yours, as both of you smile at each other, hidden from view.

“I love you,” he breaths.

“I love you too, Din,” you reply.

To Be Continued.....

A/N: Sorry it took so long for the update ya’ll, but I figured I would gift you with some fluff, especially after how intense the last were chapters were!

Tags:

@lokilover-39 @fleurdemiel145 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @just-a-casual-fangirl-011 @70sgubler @pascalisthepunkest @ispilledmyink @imaginebeinlovedbyme @fastidious-and-a-mess @taman-a @yumisaru @whos-too-bi @frantheseer @retrobhaddie @aeryntheofficial @renreypoe @alexis-m-kruger @mrsparknuts 

Just let me know in the comments if you want to be added to that tag list!

[mypassionfortrash]

KICKS (part three)

With Roger well shot of Betsy, he’s now free to explore the world of kink and all it has to offer him! But before he can start playing, he’s got to learn how to do it safely. You suggest that he meets two of your best friends to watch them play, and to get some advice and inspiration, to help him discover what he really wants.

Warnings: Strong D/s themes; mentions of medical fetishes and anal sex. STRICTLY 18+. Notes: Thank you so much for all of the amazing feedback I’ve been getting on the first two parts of this – I’m very proud of it and really appreciate every little reblog or comment! We’re gradually getting kinkier here but it’s still gonna be a slow burn! As always, if you like this, please reblog it so people can see it. If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to message me 💖

Catch up: Part one // Part two

Tags: @jennyggggrrr​ @sarahgurl09​ @scorpiogemini @johnricharddeacy​​ @brianssixpence​​ @hellohellothere12 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @internationalkpoplova @thefairyfellersmasterstroke @six-bloodyminutes @hannafuckingsucks​ @dancingcoolcat​ @cherries-n-rocknroll​ @theedwardscollection​

You got your second wind when the clock was a few strokes shy of 5. A sudden burst of energy; an overwhelming urge to accomplish something. Today, you had a shipment of new butt plugs to put on display. 

They came in all shapes, colours, textures and sizes. Picking up one of the larger models, ‘Big Red,’ even you with your open mind and questionable taste in fetishes, wondered whose rectum could expand a whole five inches to accommodate it. You didn’t need to wonder much; they attracted a very specific type of customer, and you’d know them anywhere. You shook your head and loaded five of them on to one of the metal hangers with a smile.

Then, the bell above the door tinkled. 

You were so close to emptying the box at your feet and you had to bite back your annoyance when you turned to greet your customer.

All of those feelings subsided when you realised that it was Roger, standing in the doorway with a contented smile on his lips.

“People might talk if you keep showing up here,” you said, going back to your work. “Did you do it?”

Roger wandered up beside you and observed every move you made. “Hello to you too.” He looked down and reached into the box on the floor, plucking out a slim, blue plug. “And yes, I did do it.”

You took the plug – ‘Little Blue’ – from Roger’s grasp and arranged it on the display alongside others of its kind. “How did she take it?” You caught him scowling out of the corner of your eye. “That bad?”

“Weird.”

“You’re in a sex shop. What could be weirder?”

He slipped one of the large red plugs off of the hanger and read the packaging. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. He was unusually quiet.

“She didn’t take it well then?”

“She took it surprisingly well. But she told me why she did what she did.”

You turned to him and folded your arms, preparing to feel your rage towards Betsy Bright reach a simmer. “I’m listening.” 

“She said she was jealous.”

“Of?”

“She said that I have enough bother keeping it in my pants and I’m going on tour soon. Thought I was getting tips so I could go off and find someone ‘more like me’ while I was away, and the jealousy got the better of her. She wasn’t into it.”

A scowl smacked across your face like a slapped arse. “Well, it’s not your fault she’s bad at communicating before there’s a problem. And it doesn’t excuse what she did to you.”

“I know,” he sighed, closing his eyes with a smile. “I’m well shot of her now, thank god.”

“So, what now?”

Roger held up ‘Big Red’ with a grin.

“Roger, no.”

Roger laughed. “What’s a guy got to do to get someone to shove this up his bum?”

“Unspeakable things,” you whispered. “Terrible, awful, sordid things.”

“I’m assuming you start with ‘Little Blue’ and work up to ‘Big Red’ then?”

You tilted your head from left to right. “Yes and no.” Then you pondered. “There’s a couple of steps and a lot of lube in between.”

“And do you wear them when… I don’t know… you’re… doing it?” He stuttered, grinding his hips in a way that was equal parts comical and seductive.

But he was so coy, especially for someone so renowned for their ability to seduce and conquer; it made you giggle. His curiosity was refreshing. “You don’t have to have sex with them in, but they do feel amazing when you do – for men and women.” You searched the vast array of merchandise for something less lewd. “If you’re starting out with anal play, fingers and a lot of lube are fine.” Then your hand settled on a small glass plug. “And then if you want to transition to toys, I like these. They start off quite small. They’re easy to clean and have a really nice weight to them. And you can wear these during sex, or even out and about for small amounts of time. You can increase the size when you’re comfortable, and the duration that you wear them for.”

Roger’s eyes were like saucers when you finished your explanation.

“It makes fitting, you know, dicks and stuff in there a bit smoother,” you added nonchalantly, scratching the back of your head.

Roger elbowed your side and flounced into you. “Not that you’d know, hm?”

You felt a rush of blood go straight to your cheeks. Eager to dodge the question, you loaded the merchandise on to the display in double-time. 

“Well, one thing’s for certain,” Roger said, handing you various butt plugs to sort. “I don’t want anything in my arse. Ever.”

Grateful that Roger’s fleeting attention was off of your own posterior, you couldn’t help but make another remark. “You might like it. It’s even more fun for guys.”

“Right.”

“I can get a guy off without even touching his cock,” you boasted.

“Somehow, I don’t think a couple of fingers up my bum is going to do it.”

“No, but if you know which spots to prod, the results are… explosive.”

Like a naughty schoolboy, Roger shot you a bashful smirk while shaking his head. “No.”

“Please yourself.”

“I still want to start learning about all of this though,” he sighed. “And maybe find someone to do it with.”

“You need to learn how to play safely and have a think about what you’re ok with before you even think of playing with a partner.”

“How do I do that?”

“There are places you can go to speak to people who do this,” you hinted. It was a gamble, but you knew it would be an eye-opener for him. “Have you ever been to Doxy?”

“Doxy? What’s that?”

“It’s a dungeon on the other side of town.”

“Like a medieval dungeon?”

You reached out and stroked the side of Roger’s crimson-cheeked face. “You sweet summer child.”

Roger swatted your hand away. “What’s Doxy? Tell me!” he whined like a petulant child.

“Well, sometimes people go there to play. You can rent rooms, throw kinky parties there. Some people run entire businesses out of there.”

“Like kinky prozzies?” he grinned. “You’re telling me to go and see a kinky prozzie?”

“No, Roger,” you sighed, turning to him. “What I’m saying is, do you want to go there tonight with me? I know a couple of people who might be able to give you lots of helpful advice.”

Roger bounced on the balls of his feet like a badly trained, and very excited, puppy. “Ok.”

“And please, for the love of God, when you meet Andie, don’t call her a kinky prozzie.”

“What is she then?”

“She’s a dominatrix.”

“Nice.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“She wants me to go with her to a place called ‘Doxy.’ Have you heard of it?” Roger asked, twirling the phone cord around his slender fingertips.

“I’m afraid that’s a world away from what I’m into, my dear,” Freddie’s matter of fact tone crackled over the line. “The girl knows her stuff, though. You should trust her.”

Roger’s free hand lifted a cigarette to his lips and left it dangling. Then he wandered over to his wardrobe. “What the fuck do I wear to a bloody dungeon?”

“Teeny tiny leather shorts and one of those ghastly neckerchiefs you like.”

“Fucking hell, Fred,” Roger sighed.

“What? That’s what I would wear!”

“I don’t think we’re doing anything tonight, though, but yeah – I’ll keep that idea in the back pocket for later!” Roger rifled through his collection of clothing, cursing his decision to discard his many pairs of leather trousers at the turn of the decade.

“What did she say you were going to do?”

“Going to meet two of her friends.”

“That sounds like a bloody dream come true for you, dear. I don’t know why you’re getting your knickers in a twist.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Pour yourself a drink and don’t think too much on it. Enjoy yourself. She’s a lovely girl.”

Roger chuckled. “Don’t count on that. She was talking to me about butt plugs this afternoon.”

“Good luck with that, Rog,” Freddie laughed.

“Thanks, Fred.”

Roger hung up the phone and turned back to his wardrobe with a sigh. Freddie wasn’t much help and didn’t really put his mind at ease, but at least he was supportive. But he still had no idea what to wear to Doxy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roger tugged  the collar of his coat up against the bitter pitch-black wind. The quiet side street that Doxy was situated on was deserted and made him question whether he had the right place. Glancing up at the inconspicuous sign above the door, he knew he had at least got the name right. Maybe there were other places in London called Doxy. Maybe he had arrived at the wrong one. 

He set his sights on his watch, strapped around his trembling wrist. 

Two more minutes.

He knew how rich that was, coming from him. He was late for everything, and here he was, doubting your timekeeping.

So he lit another cigarette and pulled up his collar once more.

Right as the clock struck eight, you wandered down the cobbles towards the plume of pale smoke dancing in the air outside Doxy. Your fists were balled up inside the pockets of your jacket, trying to strangle the life out of the nerves you felt. You tried to make your legs move a bit faster, but the combination of sky-high heels and a freezing February night made even walking difficult.

Roger’s eyes zeroed in on the movement in their periphery; first, they were wary, and then realisation hit. He flicked his smoke to the ground and took a couple of small steps to close the gap between you and him. A coy, “Hi,” was all he could muster.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Roger swallowed hard and shook his head. “Only a couple of minutes.” Then his hand crept into the breast of his coat, slinking up to that familiar spot at the curve of his neck. A shy smile grew on his lips. “I’m so nervous.”

You brushed your fingertips over the outsides of Roger’s arms, not wanting to give away your own reservations. “It’s going to be ok,” you reassured, focusing on the way the light caught his eyes. “We’re not going to do anything. We’re only going to meet Andie and her sub, Holly, and watch how they do things. To help you stop overthinking things.”

The muscles in Roger’s arms relaxed under your touch as he took a sharp, but measured, breath. “Ok,” he nodded. “Ok. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” you smiled, linking his arm in yours. “We better get a move on.”

The descent into Doxy took forever. Step by step. Steep scarlet step by steep scarlet step. The staircase stretched on for what felt like miles below street level. The only illumination on offer came from sporadic lamps fixed to the brickwork. “You weren’t lying when you called this a dungeon,” Roger said.

You giggled when you reached the bottom of the stairs. “That’s the tip of the iceberg. Here,” you said, holding out your hand, “let me take your coat.”

Roger slipped it off and handed it to you with a smile. Then he watched you disappear towards the cloakroom, fixating on the way your hips swung like a pendulum from left to right in your skintight leather trousers. Instinctively, his fingers laced together in front of his abdomen. Without you to admire, Roger glanced around, taking in snapshots of the people around him. Latex, leather, lace. Everywhere. Suddenly, he felt underdressed for the occasion in his stonewash jeans and a cosy jumper. But one thing struck him. For all the clubs that Roger had visited, he had never been inside a place like Doxy; there were no bars or disco balls, no dance floor and no gaggles of drunken hens. Instead, everything moved slowly in a sultry haze. People dripped into the corridor to Roger’s right; it was lined with rooms. Roger’s mind wandered, imagining what the people did behind those doors. He truly was a fish out of water.

You sauntered back to Roger now without your jacket, allowing him an unrestricted view of your outfit. He focused a bit too intently on the sliver of cleavage your black bralette put on display. So much so that he missed what you were saying to him. Not once, but twice.

He snapped back to reality with a stern click of your fingers in front of his eyes. He recoiled at the sound. “Sorry,” he said, casting his gaze towards his shoes.

“Do you want to go through? They’re going to start at half-past,” you said, looking at your watch.

Roger’s eyes lit up as he stood up straight. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you said, turning on your heel. It took him a moment to catch up, and when he did, you leaned in close to him so he could hear you. “Now, remember – don’t call them kinky prozzies.”

Roger’s face bunched into a tickled grin. His body nudged against your own, reinforcing his amusement.

The pair of you marched down the long, red corridor until you reached the second door from the end on your left. The black door had a small, shiny plaque that read, ‘medical bay.’

Roger’s eyes shifted to you, his eyebrows hiking high on his forehead.

You smirked at him and knocked on the door.

Holly answered the door looking like her usual excitable self. “You’ve made it just in time!” She said, throwing her arms around the two of you. “Andie’s getting antsy!”

You and Roger stepped into the room to find Andie puttering around over a tray of intimidating instruments. Needles, syringes and speculums were the only ones you could recognise, but that was enough to send a steely chill through your spine. She wore an aqua coloured latex gown, complete with red boots and gauntlets, and a mask obscuring the lower half of her face.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she drawled. You could tell from her ocean coloured eyes that she was smiling. 

“It’s good to see you too, Sister,” you grinned. 

“So this is your friend?” she asked, nodding towards Roger.

Holly, standing there in a black silk robe, drew her hand down Roger’s arm. “I like him,” she said.

“You know, we could have lots of fun with him,” Andie remarked.

It earned a nervous giggle from Roger. His eyes struggled to focus on just one thing. From the stirrups at the end of the bed, to the intimidating-looking gas mask on the table beside it. “This is… this is… different,” he choked.

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Hollie beamed, shaking Roger’s arm. “Have you been here before?”

“He’s completely new to this,” you said. “And he still needs breaking in.”

Andie arched one of her over-lined and exaggerated eyebrows like she already knew what was happening – before you and Roger did.

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you asked, thrusting your hands into your back pockets.

“Just an examination,” Holly said, perching herself on the edge of the bed. “With a twist!”

“Like…” Roger asked, gesturing towards his nether regions, “A ‘down there’ examination?”

You, Andie and Holly exchanged knowing looks. When Roger cottoned on, his mouth fell open.

“Why don’t you observe from the gallery?” Andie suggested, gesturing towards the door in the far corner of the room. “Don’t want you two making this any more awkward than it has to be for our patient here.”

>>NEXT>>

[kill-the-feels]

Part Two ~ Puzzle

a/n: one of you had a tag on the first part of this, saying you’d been on a kix kick recently, and i’d just like to publicly agree and thank you for that comment. it made me giggle ;) enjoy part two!!

word count: 1.3k

He does come back. It’s late at night, just before you close up shop. The little bell above your door chimes, and you turn, ready to send whoever it is packing.

“Oh,” you say. “It’s you. The clone medic.” His mouth tilts up in a wry grin.

“Kix. My name is Kix.” You carefully put away the binder with the designs.

“Kix. I like it. Suits you. Sorry if you’ve come for another tattoo, but you’re a little late. I’m packing up for the night.” He doesn’t seem to register your words, instead staring at you.

You frown.

“Hello?” He shakes his head, as if clearing a daze.

“Sorry, just-” he points at your face. “Did you have a tattoo there the last time?” Oh. You’d given yourself a tiny Galactic Roundel on your left cheekbone, right below the corner of your eye, sort of as a way to support all the clones you had coming in. You’re kinda surprised he noticed, seeing as the last time you two met, he was less-than-sober.

“No. It’s new. Why? You want one?” Kix looks at you for another moment, then drops his gaze to his hands. They fist in front of him, then flex open, as if he’s deciding something.

“No. No, I just…” he trails off again, and you wait, trying not to get annoyed. You are trying to close, after all.

“Could you do another custom tattoo?” he asks finally, right when you go to put away your tools.

“What kind?” He digs in one of his belt pouches and produces a sheet of flimsi. Interesting, that he too uses the physical and not digital.

It’s a nice tattoo - he has taste, you’ll give him that - but it’s quite large.

“Can you come back tomorrow? Earlier in the evening?” You hate to turn him away. The tattoo will be a nice chunk of credits, and there’s something so… somber? about him. He’s quick to nod.

“Sure. Yeah, sure.” You watch him go. He’s a puzzle, and you’re interested in figuring him out.

///

You’re pretty sure that’s how it starts. Kix starts showing up at your shop, at all hours of the day, everyday. Sometimes, he’s the only one in there, making excuses as to his presence when he turns down the offer for more tattoos. Sometimes, there are other customers and he only stays for a bit. But he’s there.

You’re working on another tattoo for him, a big piece that’s taking shape on his right shoulder blade, curving down and around his chest.

You like doing tattoos on him. (This makes the third one you’ve done, and the first one he lets you pick.) He’s a pretty man, and something about the tattoos makes him even better.

He’s always quiet. Polite. It’s a contrast to some of the other clone medics you’ve worked on; always domineering and trying to convince you they know best.

(“Just because you kow how to use a medical needle doesn’t mean you know how to use mine,” you’re fond of saying. One of these days, you might even tattoo it on your forehead.)

“Would you ever get a sleeve?” you ask, sticking your tongue back between your teeth in concentration. Kix is careful not to even breathe too deeply. You’re working on the part that curves down, where precision is key.

“Maybe,” he says finally. The bell above your shop chimes.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute,” you call over your shoulder, gaze focused on the smooth skin covering Kix’s ribs.

“This is where you’ve been taking yourself?” the voice is loud and sudden, and you jerk yourself away from Kix, just barely missing adding an additional, unneeded line.

“Don’t do that,” you scold, turning to glare at the person. It’s another clone, the one with the big Galactic Roundel on his face.

“You,” you blurt out. “Come for something on the other side?” He looks between you and Kix, brow furrowed like he’s trying to make an ill-fitting part slip into place.

Kix, on his part, is doing a bang-up job of wiping any emotion off his face. You have your back to him, so you don’t see the way he looks down. You don’t see the weary sigh he suppresses, the way he squeezes his eyes shut before looking up at the other clone.

You see none of it. (But the other clone does.)

“Jesse,” he says finally. His tone is calm and collected. You look between the two, Kix lying down on the chair while Jesse stands over him.

Jesse eyes you, then, before looking back at Kix. Something you’re learning more and more, is how often the clones use non-verbals to communicate. You feel like you’re missing something. Jesse crouches down and mutters something too quiet for you to hear. Kix raises an eyebrow, darting a gaze to you before glaring at Jesse.

The door swings open again, bringing with it another customer. It’s another clone, but he looks like he’s brand new to everything and totally confused over the other two. Shinies, you’ve heard some of your customers call them. Very popular subject of drunk dares.

The shiny looks down at Kix, who pushes himself to standing, and you pointedly ignore the nice flush creeping all over him.

Poor shiny looks about the shop, gaze just shy of wild.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” you say. He takes in the three sets of eyes on him, the clearly beat up armor of Jesse and bared chest of Kix, sporting the large tattoo and shakes his head.

“Y’know what, never mind. Guys said I wouldn’t do it and, y’know what, they’re right.” He leaves just as quickly as he entered, wearing a slightly greenish tinge. You roll your eyes. Chickening out is also common. Kriff, it isn’t even evening yet, when things really pick up.

“Let’s call that done for now, yeah?” you say to Kix, who is in the process of pulling on the top part of his blacks. If he puts off anymore of your customers, you’ll be annoyed.

He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, then seems to change his mind. You turn to Jesse.

“As for you, unless you came in here for a tattoo, stop freaking out my customers with that monstrosity of a tattoo.” He holds up his hands in defense.

“I just came to collect this guy. I can’t help if they see all this-” he gestures to his face - “and run the other way.” He points at Kix. “Captain’s lookin’ for you.” Kix reaches into his pocket, offering you some credits. You shake your head.

“It’s on the house.” (It is always on the house with him.)

There’s a smirk starting to form on Jesse’s face.

“Right then. I’ll, uh, let you two finish up,” he says. You narrow your eyes and shake you head at his rapidly-disappearing back. With your luck, it will be the talk of Coruscant by the end of the day.

Oh, hey, you know the clone bar? 79’s? Yeah, there’s a tattoo parlor back there, and hey! The owner gives out freebies to clones.

“You can’t keep not letting me pay,” Kix says. He finds his medic pack that’s always by his side and slings it up on one shoulder.

You offer him the helmet.

“Call it a favor. I’m sure I’ll have one for you.” Kix smiles then, a genuine smile. He ducks his head as he does, as if on instinct. As if he works hard at not showing the softer side.

Hm.

“You’ll be back?” you ask. He glances out the door, where Jesse is waiting a conspicuous length away, gaze fixed on a non-interesting sign that should not take that long to read.

“I’ll be back.”

[lucarioisinthevoid]

AHHHHHHH I HAVE IDEA!!

How about Henry interacting with Helpy and the “annoying” Ultimate Custom Night characters! Maybe throw in Funtime Freddy!! Helpy could be his son or maybe Bon Bon reincarnated! Just sheer silliness and stupidity :p

Animatronics: Bonnie, BB, JJ, Phantom BB, Phantom Mangle, Phantom Freddy, Old Man Consequences, Trash and the Gang, Helpy, El Chip, Funtime Chica and Phone Guy! (Sorry, no Funtime Freddy here, wasn’t an option- though I don’t mind adding characters that aren’t an option, I would just had to write around that a little more, so I didn’t want to go all in. Events and surroundings all randomly generated like this in-game! Just with slight adjustments for a bit of writing flow). (Special note: This is an experiment. This is a whole ass chapter. Tumblr might not be the right place for it, but I have no better place to put it. If you have an idea on what would work better, I’d love to hear it, but for now this is just it. If you don’t want to read a long chapter, you should probably not press “read more” Honestly, this might not be as much fun as I imagined it to be, I’m terrible at making fun events, heh. If it is, take solace in the fact that it might be the only chapter of this kind on this blog.)

Henry groaned, his bones sending agony through his nerves. It felt like his insides had splintered and were now stuck in his flesh. His throat was burning, but he managed to open his eyes. He was- somewhere. At least it was a place. That was actually news, good news, last time he hadn’t been that lucky after all. Having a couch below him and a room surrounding him was actually a deep relief- it was a room he didn’t have to create himself. Sitting up, he looked around. It seemed to be some sort of employee lounge, a coffee machine, a tv and a couch, with lockers against the walls. A few posters painted the walls. -CELEBRATE!- They said, over and over again. Henry showed his teeth, a grin with no hint of amusement. “… that is what you would like to do, huh?” Standing up he stumbled a little, but the pain only served to keep him awake and grow his confidence. It HURT. And it was GOOD. It hurt, his body hurt, HIS BODY was REAL and in PAIN. When he left to the outside, he was surprised to see that he was inside of one of the oldest locations- at least in form. He was standing beside where the stage was supposed to be, coming from where the saferoom used to be, but to his surprise instead of a stage it was a giant price corner, filled with all sort of plushies and other goodies. Sweets and candies, candles, little gadgets… … and a silver coin among them. It shined and felt oddly… powerful. Ten Faztokens. The other things didn’t even have a price tag, so he decided that he would check back on that later. All items were hidden behind a thin glass wall and he wasn’t sure if he could break through it. Maybe he should try later. Moving further down, he realized a few more things were different- There were TWO pirate coves in the main area and- ‘Pssssst… hey… I have something to tell you…’ Abruptly Henry turned around. Where had that voice come from?! ‘Hey… hey, down here…’ It seemed to come from one of the hallways, leading down to the office. As quick as he possible could, he followed the source of the noise, the mysterious whispers slowly growing louder. ‘It is really… really… important…!’ Finally, he was near the supply closet, looking around. “Hello? Where are you? Who are you? What is this place?” The questions broke out of him more erratically than he wanted them too, the desperation and quiet panic bubbling under the thin veil of cold control- it was almost cracking out of him. ‘Pssssst…’ He spotted a little crate with eyes, and leaned down to investigate- Suddenly a loud noise! The thing was all up in his face, making a low noise, pure bass, causing his head to HURT, but not enough that he would have to hold his ears- Just enough that it shook his skin uncomfortably, from the inside out. Stumbling backwards, he shook his head, the crate had disappeared, leaving him with a headache and burning aggression, so potent that his throat felt sore, as though he had screamed from the top of his lungs… despite not a single noise having come out of him. Moving inside of the office, he was somewhat stunned. It looked like a bedroom. With closet and everything. The wallpaper and whole atmosphere felt… old. A child’s bedroom… except there was an office desk, with a fan, a microphone and a weird little action figure of Bonnie on top of it. Some air ducts were hanging into the room and there were- multiple vents, two doors- A flashlight. Quickly he grabbed it. Great- now all he needed was a taser and maybe he would feel like- “… Henry Miller…” A raspy voice sounded to the side of him, causing him to make a few steps back. In front of him, a creature was forming, a Freddy, burned and see through- It grinned. “… long time… no see…” “I have never met you.” “… your memory is failing you, Mr. Miller…” At this point it seemed to become more and more corporeal, reaching out to the table, its paws scraping over and only slightly moving through the material. Turning to the Pink Guy, he opened his maw a little, nothing visible inside. It was getting ready… “… that’s on you however-“ A squeaky voice sounded. “Maybe you should shine your light at him, Mr. Miller!” Instantly, the flash of his light ripped through the ghostly Freddy, who was quite disgruntled to say the least. “… Helpy… you are supposed to help US.” With that he vanished, giving Henry the chance to turn to around and see who’s mysterious helper was. His eyes fell on a little walking bear standing on the blue shelf, trying to hide between the purple fan. “Whoops…” “… who are you? Can you EXPLAIN this place to me?!” “I’m Helpy! Don’t you remember me, Henry?” Fully irritated the Pink Guy stepped back. “No. No, I did not make you. I THOUGHT about making you, but I never did!” “Oh my, Henry, you must have fallen on your head!” Helpy laughed. “But- I can’t help you actually. Everyone else will be mad! So I won’t tell you how the other people here work!” “Can you at least tell me who exactly these ‘others’ are?!” “Uhm… no. I don’t think so.” Slowly he was reaching behind him for something- But Henry couldn’t worry about it, as a phone suddenly started ringing. Shoving off the bear off the shelf (resulting in a little squeak), he tried to find the source of the noise, his head throbbing. He thought he shortly saw a “mute call” button pop up, but as soon as he saw it, it was already gone. Instead a receiver just- fell from the ceiling, randomly. How? Who KNEW- “Uh- hello? Hello, hello?” “… Phone Guy?” “Scott. Uh- anyways- uh, anyways, I wanted to record a message for you, to help you get settled in on your first-“ “This is not a recording. You just interrupted me. And why would there be a phone RINGING if you were to play a recording!?” For a moment it was quiet, then Scott started laughing. “You never changed, did you?” Irritated Henry skipped past that question, having more urgent matters to talk about. “Scott. Good old Scott. Listen, I think I am in some level of hell.” Dumbfounded there was silence on the other end, while the ghostly Freddy tried to reform, being instantly shooed away by the light. Until finally- “… yes of course. Of COURSE you’re in hell, Henry. Uh. What did you expect?” “I-“ “No, no, no, let’s uh- let’s talk about this. Where did you THINK you are? Because, uhm- not sure how to say this, but- uh- I DIED and I’m in HEAVEN right now and you DIED, sooo… uh- yeah.” “I am glad we talked about this. I cannot recall how I GOT here, however. And everyone seems to know me.” Displeased he shined the light at the grinning grimace of the phantom, before he could even fully form. “Yeah… uh… can’t help you. Actually, I have to go. You don’t have a noise activated animatronic around, do you?” “A- what?” “Hm. Too bad. Talk to you later!” “Wait-“ But before he could say anything else, the connection was cut, and his camera system was blinking up red. ‘Catch a fish!’ the title said, his head becoming dizzy as he watched the little red thing move from one side to the other. Wait, that wasn’t just- the noise and the flashing, the air was getting harder and harder to breathe! … smells like brimstone. He managed to catch the fish, albeit just barely, then opened the camera feed, where a warning sign was blinking. The camera itself was completely covered by another phantomlike animatronic, the Mangle this time. Shortly he blinked at it, shaking his head, then clicking the button that said ‘RESET VENTILATION’. A gust of fresh air instantly blew through the location, allowing him to finally breathe again properly. The fan itself seemed useless- he deactivated it. Having climbed back up, Helpy was back on the shelf, looking at him happily. “Are you having fun?” For a moment Henry looked at him, shining away the Freddy once more. “… no.” Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted Balloon Boy, staring at him with his terrible grin. Instantly he hit the button to shut the door, a dull thud coming from it right away. At least that one gave him a hint of satisfaction, pleased with the mental image that the obnoxious plastic abomination ran face-first into the metal wall. “But you look like you have fun!” Helpy reached behind him, before Henry shoved him over again, still not interested in what he was hiding. “You are TERRIBLE at reading emotions then. A useless AI.” Pouting Helpy sat beside the shelf, not answering this time around. Looking around, Henry got comfortable in his chair, slowly growing… a little bit hot. Huh. Seemed like the fan wasn’t entirely useless after all. Maybe it kept the heat from the hell around them away. … what an image… a Freddy’s in the middle of a fire-y pit. He hoped it wasn’t the case. That would make getting out a lot more complicated. “Is this all I have to deal with?” Henry asked Phantom Freddy, who chose not to answer, but only smile grimly. “… I can live with that.” Leaning back, he quickly flipped up the screen once more resetting the ventilation and shutting the vent to the side one more time for good measure. Again, a bonk. Hopefully Balloon Boy. He relaxed. A routine would form easily. Shine your light, reset the vent, keep the generator going, close the side vent for a while. At least for now the place seemed empty- Suddenly something DROPPED from the ceiling. Lights flashed a heap of shadow-y humanoid figures entered with what sounded like cameras, flashing and shining, making Henry’s head spin. On the top of his table stood Funtime Chica posing elegantly. “Don’t get distracted~!” She spun around showing herself off, then blew a kiss down at him. Then she turned to Helpy. “Helpy!!! Why didn’t you tell me our guest was already here!!!” She whined, upset. Her paparazzi had vanished again, she however stuck around. “My first impression was TERRIBLE! Because of YOU!” “I’m sorry Miss Funtime Chica!” Helpy didn’t seem bothered by the accusation. “He was just suddenly here!” “Aw- well- at least he’s a total cutie!” “Why thank you.” Henry rose an eyebrow, but tried to continue focusing on the plastic children trying to enter the office, as well as the Phantom trying to materialize behind her. “I appreciate the compliments, especially from someone who seems to have an eye for it.” “Oooooh, look at him~ so adorable~ I wanna pinch his cheeks!” Sitting down on the desk, the bird smiled widely, watching him. “How’s the night going~?” “Rather fast. I think I have a grip on it though.” “Hm? Are you sure~?” Before Henry could answer his tablet acted up. For a few seconds he saw the little 8-bit fishing game- but before he could catch it, the screen changed showing an add. “COME TO EL CHIP’S FIESTA BUFFET, WE HAVE-“ Instantly clicking on skip, Henry managed to get another glimpse at the game- And then it was gone, a red GAME OVER stuck on his screen. His breath was getting shorter as the smell of brimstone slowly started filling the room again, the red alarms blinking, but the screen constantly flashing error when he tried to access it. More and more his head hurt, the room seemed to become darker and darker- was this smoke?! Was smoke entering the room? Would he be poisoned by the gasses!? Desperately he rattled the screen, while Chica only giggled and left, Helpy watching intensely from the shelf. “You know, if you just wait a few minutes, it’s gonna-“ Frustrated Henry shoved him down once more, his mouth filling with a disgusting taste as the room began spinning- It all come together, once Freddy formed, the Balloon Boy loomed in the vent, a second after, the telephone was ringing- Suddenly the screen flashed back up and he instantly grabbed it, trying to get his bearing as he hit the button to reset, being stuck for a second too long on the grinning grimaces of both a phantom Balloon Boy and Mangle- the latter of which suddenly crawled out of the screen and while he managed to hit the button, his office had descended into chaos. Helpy was holding a horn, the phantom Freddy had almost formed, the phantom Mangle was slowly extending its neck towards him, screaming and gargling in insane glee and to top if all off, the screen flashed red AGAIN, forcing him to focus on that instead of the other two things- Balloon Boy was snickering as he tried to make his way inside, Henry barely being able to shut the vent on him before discovering the stupid crate from the start looking at him from under the table. “Uh- hello? Hello, Hello?” “Scott. Bad timing.” “That is my job!” Cheerfully the Phone Guy said. “To be as much of a nuisance to you as possible. Uh- glad to hear the high praise. How are you? Bad? Good. Uh- anyways, I will now read to you the company greeting, but only the imperfect, first draft so you feel bad about what bullshit you wrote!” “I can crush this phone.” “No, uh- you actually can’t! The afterlife is neat, huh?” “I can mute you.” “If you are fast enough. Which you obviously weren’t. You really grew old, uh- up there…” “MY REFLEXES ARE GREAT AS EVER.” “If it were the case you wouldn’t, uh- y’know. Fighting with me over this.” “I am not fighting with you, I am merely correcting you. As I always did while we were alive.” Stopping the petty crap, seeing as he wasn’t even sure if this WAS actually the real Scott, he turned his attention to more important things. “What is this place? Who made it?!” “Uh- Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza! A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person-“ Instantly Henry tuned out. “Good riddance, Scotty.” He mumbled to himself, taking solace in the memory that no matter what, this obnoxious Phone-head had been dead for much longer than he himself. While the words kept going in the background, he kept working, pausing as a bright green mechanical parrot flew through his office. But- it didn’t really do anything, so he decided to ignore it for now. A good amount of time passed with his voice in the background, until it was abruptly cut off- seemingly by the ad for El Chip’s. Once that was skipped, the office was quiet, aside from the fan. Finally! The silence lingered. For a second Henry felt a bit lonely. Not even the little bear was there anymore. There was enough to do though, as the air kept needing to be reseted, Freddy kept popping up, the parrot came through once more, the minigame, the annoying balloon children wanted in- At last… … it was five AM. One last time the call sounded. Henry allowed it to come through, despite eyeing the ‘mute call’ button. “Hello? Hello, hello!?” It sounded on the other side. “Hey! You’re doing GREAT. I, uh- didn’t expect you to last this long! I mean-“ He broke off. “Y’know. Usually I expected you to move on to other things by now… disappearing into the void like you should, seeing as there’s no out.” “I will not disappear.” “Huh. Guess I owe the person who made this place an apology. I was wrong-“ “Who?! Who was it?! Who are you TALKING about?!” But before anything could be said, the bell chimed. Six AM His screen changed once more, a high-score board showing, then loud music started blasting from the speakers, hyper and fast paced, the numbers blinking and colorful, rapidly climbing higher and higher as fireworks were set up on the screen and around Henry, raining down confetti as they exploded- GREAT JOB! FANTASTIC! The fireworks stopped and the jingle ended with a congratulatory little up and down. Then the office was dark. Slowly he stood up, leaving to the outside, checking for danger- “Hey! You won. Here, take this for your trouble.” Suddenly ANOTHER Freddy was there, a golden star on his chest- he dropped a battery into Henry’s hands that he had grabbed, then he walked off. “Wait- wait a moment! I need an explanation! I need-“ The bear was gone. After a while of searching around the place and not finding an exit, Henry finally sighed and made his way back into the saferoom- or employees only lounge, or- whatever. Inside it was just like before. Safe. Except this time the TV was on. And there was a Fredbear suit on the sofa. How? Who knew. Why? Hopefully not to kill him. Slowly he moved next to it, inspecting it. At this moment it seemed completely lifeless, yet somehow he felt watched. “Am I… interrupting…?” No reaction. Walking past the suit, he put away the battery. Still no reaction, but he could swear the creature was looking at him. Unsure he approached it once more, sitting down besides him. “… looking at… fuzzystatic. I see. I think I will… join.” Suddenly, a loud noise of came from the tv, then it flashed. INTERMISSION. A little bit later, Henry was done watching a samurai Freddy fighting an ULTRA edgy Foxy, he put his face into his hands. “… send me back out. Please. I actually prefer it.”

[ofravensandgenesis]

IT IS FINISHED no seriously, this took ages. First couple of days were fine and motoring along with progress, then I was laid out for a week-ish with health problems. Then once I was well enough again I was back to being fixated on finishing this piece of my lad Joshua here for another handful of days, so I’m super glad this is done now. More talk about the painting, details and process under the cut:

Art Entry 01, Joshua Rook, Junior Deputy of Hope County. Regarding the painting’s execution, stylistic choices, practiced methods, and speculation on further experimentation for skill and stylization. _____________________________ Honestly I thought that the uniform’s large swatches of green fabric would be more difficult than it actually was. Turns out that was the easier part compared to the shoulder patch and metal badge. x’D The metal badge design is based off of and inspired by a custom-ordered cosplay badge design I found while looking for references, in this post here (link,) from v-i-d-e-n-o-i-r’s blog and Far Cry 5 cosplay. There are some differences in the painting’s rendition above, namely I flattened the middle section and made it all concentric polished metal instead of painted and the great seal rendition in the middle doesn’t have silver lineart either. Those choices are as much for aesthetic reasons of eliminating the blue ring so it was all a fairly simple mono-material-looking surface as it was for simplifying having to forego painting the foreshortening that a spherical dome might entail. Also just because the rest of the metal turned out looking good enough that an additional bit of shiny metal seemed like it’d fit right in for this. That being said, the badge design that inspired this one is rad and awesome looking—and I totally didn’t realize it wasn’t quite like the badges from in-game assets until after I’d painted it. x’D So, I decided to stick with this one since it’s simpler and has cleaner lines, and less engraving to pick out highlights on. Metal is very hit or miss for me to get right, so I’m very pleased with how this one came out! :D I think I did well on that one. The shoulder patch originally I was looking at real world references and ended up changing the shape once I actually looked at in-game references on Staci and Joey—who I discovered have slightly different details on their uniforms, like the font for their name tags—Staci’s has an old-timey-looking-font with serifs, Joey’s is a non-serif more modern-style font. Some pictures have them having different buttons on their uniforms either in color or shape (the former being exported assets, the latter being in-game gifs/screenies/etc.) This is also how I learned that the little landscape with the shovel, pickaxe and plough/plow are part of the great seal of Montana. I had no flipping idea that was what it was, looking at the patches in-game. The cosplay community does some great work for that, for which I’m grateful. I ended up looking up references of what the state seal’s design was so as to see the smaller details, and to find out what the motto meant ”Oro y Plata,” meant, leading to etymology googling adventures from there, as usual. All important details to paint though I think here, since Joshua’s deputy uniform is symbolically significant to him and will remain so throughout his story as part of his internal conflict for a couple of reasons. One thing I knew I should’ve done from the start, and reminded myself to do, was the fact that I should paint all skin sections at the same time, so as to ensure they all came out the same shades. I did not do this. x’D I’ll have to actually try to do that next time honestly. Same with the hair sections, while I like how they came out, I do feel the differences between the three major segments in terms of brushwork is not as coherent as I’d like, even if beard hair is not necessarily similar in how it lays to scalp hair, particularly with length and such taken into consideration. Still, not bad. Could’ve used more refs for the backlighting and figuring out how the highlights would fit best on the ponytail, but I think the hair curves turned out nice there in particular. Overall, Joshua’s hair ended up messier than I’d thought with how the locks all end up looping this way and that across his head, but it does actually fit him well as a character for his hairstyle to be messy and loosely held together, but functional. It did end up longer than I’d intended, so we have him likely ending up with a nerdy Jesus hairstyle when it’s down. x’D (Thanks to @undead-gearhead​ for that mental imagery, I shall take great amusement in that should I get around to drawing Joshua with his hair down.) Aside from that, I think I’m slowly improving on figuring out how to paint glasses, though I’m thinking in the future I should test more layered reflective light on them or something where the frames are in contact or close to skin, particularly around the glasses’ bridge across the nose and such. Then there are the other deviation details added—like using dark green instead of the black for the uniform accents. The faded black looks great in-game, but I do think the buttons pop more against dark green instead for this painting. I’m a little bit surprised how well the button-placket section came out, Clip Studio Paint crashed when I painted the first rendition of it, sadly losing all that work. I thought it’d be okay but turns out it didn’t quite get to auto-save that recently enough, but the second go around turned out quite well I think, possibly better. I was originally planning to try to put more textured brushwork across the flat sections of the uniform material, but decided to skip it for speed—I’ll test that elsewhere perhaps, though I think it came out well with the watercolor brushes layered on top of one another like that as is. Among the other smaller details, there’s some tweaks and such for how Joshua’s eye shape, eyebrows, nose shape, hairline etc came out compared to references of Greg Bryk in his role as Joseph Seed. I think Joshua did come out looking like he’s obviously related to the Seeds as I was hoping for, but I’m kind of on the fence that people would look at him and automatically assume it’s Joseph specifically that he’s descended from. I hope so, but either way, that’s how he’s written in-fic. x’D Overall, I would consider this painting a success, though as usual I do wish it’d been faster to finish. I do think this was good practice for detail work, and metal shading, also: buttons. Still haven’t figured out how to paint lips with more pink or red tones, I don’t like the way they look when painted sadly, unless it’s lipstick. That may end up being a stylistic element perhaps, along with how I paint the lines for fingernails and other such details. Fun fact: I have to leave the shading on the eyes for last, or else my brain goes “The eyes are done! We’re done! Call it a day.” I’m not sure why, but so far, leaving them as flats until the end seems to work a treat for keeping me focused on finishing the rest of the work with less mental dissonance. Now if only I could figure out why despite knowing I should do all the exposed skin portions at the same time, I don’t follow through on that naturally as far as inclinations go. Maybe it’s a layer organization thing and perception of wanting, say, the cloth to be done first before working “down” to the hands and such in the sense of working from the head down? I’ll have to think on that some more and test things in the next painting. Perhaps color coding the order of layers to paint will help? CSP does have a nice layer-icon-color function that I’ve dabbled with here and there. There are so many brushes, I really do need to test out more of them, I use, what, four or five total, but primarily somewhere around two or three. Hm, but what to do with texture, and how to utilize it so? Hmmm, as far as personal appeal for methodology goes, I might prefer to use textures in select pieces for more emotional emphasis? If I can figure out how to do that in a messier speed-paint style of things. Rougher textures for conflict, for example. That sounds like an interesting idea to explore, I’ll have to remember that for a later piece. Maybe more heavily textured brushes will also help with the mental itch to refine things to a cleaner-level of refining instead of leaving it in a more organically rough state. Hm, maybe it’s a “mental texture” aversion or something, as far as an interplay between the brush’s texture and the flow of the linework/brushstroke. Perhaps more uneven brushes echo that in a complimentary fashion to better allow less mental discomfort for me personally when trying to paint in a faster, looser fashion? Honestly, very tempting to go try that out sooner rather than later on some art ideas I have, but I’ve been missing my writing very much of late with two time-demanding paintings back to back. So, ideas for a later time to experiment with.

[theskyeandsea]

Shifty Strangers || Ulfric & Skylar

Tagging: @big-bad-ulf

Location: Coffee Plus

Notes: While fueling up on coffee, Ulfric sniffs out another shifter in White Crest.

Ulfric wasn’t usually the type to frequent coffee shops, but after a long restless night of impromptu guard duty he needed some kind of pick-me-up to get through the day’s appointments at the parlor. It wouldn’t end well if he fell asleep with a needle in his hand. The line that waited for him inside Coffee Plus was both a curse and blessing. The former because the longer he had to wait the higher his chances of dozing off on the spot, the latter because it meant a higher chance of avoiding Celeste until she left for work. Though even if she did chances were her scent would still be waiting for him. After just one night, and even with his senses dulled so close to the new moon, it seemed everything in his trailer was contaminated with hunter stench. Hints of it even clung to him somehow, despite the copious amounts febreze he’d sprayed all over himself as soon as he left. 

Taking a spot at the end of the line, Ulfric caught wind of another scent that pulled him out of his funk about his own acquired funk. It radiated from the young woman in front of him, reminding him of the ocean and… blue gatorade? But there was a familiar animalistic undercurrent that provided an instant jolt to his awareness that no coffee could hope to achieve. Not a wolf, but close enough to be comforting after the strange series of events he’d just been through. “Hey,” He tapped her lightly on the shoulder, using the beat before she turned around to face him to scramble together an excuse to talk to her. “Uh... would you recommend anything off the menu here? I’d usually only just go for a black coffee. I’m a creature of habit, you know how it is. But sometimes a change can be nice, right? I feel like trying something different before my shift.” It wasn’t the best or most subtle icebreaker, but hey, he was tired, and if she caught on maybe he could warn her about the beast hunters that were circling over White Crest like vultures. Or at least, he could put off having to face the hunter in his own home for a while longer. 

Coffee Plus was more crowded than usual, which was honestly really good to see. It was cool that so many people in town liked to support their local businesses. And, even though she had her thermos and coffee machine, Skylar had decided to treat herself to a nice Americano from the shop. Waiting in line, she scrolled through her phone, a small frown crossing her face as she realized that Remmy and Morgan hadn’t responded to her. Had something happened? Mmmmm, no, they were probably fine. Maybe they were busy. Maybe the two of them decided to go and enjoy the sunshine, somewhere safely away from the ghost that was threatening Morgan. They were fine. She slid her phone back into her pocket and continued to wait in line patiently. As she waited, Skylar started slightly when someone gently tapped her shoulder. A tall bearded man with tattoos-- had she done something wrong? She didn’t think she cut in front of him. “Hm? Oh, sorry, I really only get espresso here, so it’s really not that different from a drip coffee.” She said, his deliberate intonation going over her head. “But, they use really high quality roasts here, so it should be good no matter what you choose.” 

“Espresso’s not a bad idea. If a shot of caffeine’s what you’re after why complicate that?” Ulfric shrugged, doing his best to hide his disappointment at what seemed to be a rebuff of their shared status. Did she not know what she was? It seemed unlikely, the recently transformed usually carried a much stronger aura of panic around them. If this young woman had recently undergone an unexpected evolutionary upgrade she was handling it remarkably well. Then again her response didn’t seem terse enough for her to be one of those in the self-loathing, deep-in-denial, human-passing crowd.  “Crazy times we’ve been having, huh? With the fish rain and the squid thing,” He decided to try again, after a moment to scratch his beard in contemplation. He had time to kill, and if he ended up making a fool of himself he could always blame the early hour. “You strike me as someone who likes to get out on the water. You know, got a real affinity for the sea? I’m more of a terrestrial animal myself. It’d be good to hear a more informed take on it.” 

“Mhm. And this place does a really nice Americano. I usually make my own coffee and take it into work, but I figured I could treat myself today.” Skylar said with a polite smile, gesturing to the thermos that was tucked into the water bottle pouch of her work bag. Given the amount of caffeine it took to make her feel anything, her coffee habit had really added up over the years. Alain had been right-- the machine and thermos had been a good investment. As the man continued to speak to her, she blinked a little. Why was he talking to her? Not that she minded conversation, or that it was harming anything. She’d woken up early to ensure she had extra time to get from the coffee shop to work with ample time to spare. But… she hadn’t really anticipated having a chat with someone. “Mhm, pretty weird stuff. Between that and the blood puddles and the darkness… White Crest is anything but boring.” She laughed. When his words turned to talk of the ocean, of water, Skylar’s blood froze. “Huh? No, not really. I don’t even know how to swim very well.” She said, confusion bringing out an ounce of truth.

“Huh. My mistake, I guess,” Ulfric sighed, still not entirely convinced that he was wrong. He’d grown very confident in his shifter radar but maybe the lingering eau de hunter was throwing it off? “You smell like someone that would be more at home on the ocean. Not that you smell bad or anything, or that I go around sniffing strangers that often,” He inarticulately apologised, noticing her growing tension every time mentioned the sea. Still, one last shot, then there would be so little time left before Ink Inc. opened that he could justify going straight there and ideally he might even be able to warn her about the escalating hunter threat before she had firmly decided never to talk to him again. “Like I said, I’m more suited to land so I do most of my hunting there but do I like to fish on occasion--” If you could call catching salmon in your maw straight out stream fishing. “And your sc-- something about you seemed familiar, like maybe we had something in common. But if you don’t feel the same I’ll just leave you to go about your business.” The wolf backed off a bit stepping to the side of the line, before rummaging in his pockets for change. “Let me buy you that Americano at least though, for your troubles. ” 

Smell like someone who would be at home in the ocean? What did that mean..? Skylar blinked in confusion as the man continued to speak with her about it. As he continued to talk, her eyes widened. Wait a second, did he? Was he-- Oh god. Rio had mentioned how Hunters who hunted people who changed shapes could sense others. Hand tightening on her workbag, she stiffened. “I-- I guess?” She stammered, trying to figure out how to best deny this. But if he was a Hunter, why would that be something smelling related? She really wished that Rio had told her more about how Hunters figured out who people are. Hunting on land? Fish on occasion? Oh god. He was a Hunter and he’d figured out what she was and he was going to try and take her skin or just actually try and kill him. “I-- No, no, you’re okay. Really, you don’t need to do that.” Skylar said, waving her hands in a slightly panicked gesture.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” Ulfric backed away even further, holding up his hands and nodding in acknowledgement towards the barista who had begun glaring at him for harassing their customer. “Nevermind about the coffee,” He conceded, depositing the change he’d got out into the tip jar instead. Turning back to the young woman he then cautioned her in a hushed but carefully enunciated tone. “I just wanted to warn you; There are owls in our bog. Pigs in our forest. There are… I don’t know the American expression but there are a lot of people around town right now looking to do folks like us harm. Take care of yourself, alright?” The wolf moved around in a wide arc around her, allowing her space as he made his way towards the exit of the Coffee Plus, his original purpose for being there abandoned. Clearly he wasn’t going to be much use to anyone until he got some rest, he thought, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a frustrated sigh. Maybe he could find a discreet place in the shop to nap before his first consultation arrived. 

The confused expression on Skylar’s face only grew as the man backed out of the line, tossing his money in the tip jar and then he gave a strange warning. Bog? Pigs? American expression? “I really don’t understand but, you really don’t need to go-- Oh no.” She said in dismay as she watched the man hurry out of the coffee shop. She really hadn’t meant to chase someone off like that, but… she didn’t know what he was talking about. At first, he’d seemed like a hunter, but then he was saying something ominous about owls in the woods? Did that mean he wasn’t one? Turning back to the barista, she placed her order, pausing when they asked her if she wanted anything else. “Um. And a large drip coffee, please. No room for cream.” She added. 

When her drinks were slid across the counter, Skylar hurried out the door and looked around. He was a tall man with a large bushy beard. He was the kind of person who would stand out in a crowd, and the early morning streets of White Crest certainly weren’t crowded. Spotting him, Skylar hurried after him, moving as quickly as she dared with two hot drinks in her hands. “Sir?” She asked timidly after him. “I felt bad that you didn’t get a coffee because of… all that. So, um, please.” Skylar held out the large travel cup.

Ulfric had just finished firing off a quick text to Ariana, ‘Got to rush to work. Don’t be late for school. I’ll pick up food for you + C on the way home’ when he heard the young woman call out to him and pivoted back to her. “That’s nice of you,” he accepted the offered coffee graciously. “Clearly I need it.” He took a long steadying sip. “I’m Ulfric, by the way, that would’ve been a smarter way to start. Here,” He retrieved a glossy business card for Ink Inc from his scuffed leather wallet. “If you change your mind and ever want to talk to someone about, well, changing you can contact me here. Or if you’re ever in trouble,” He held it out in the hopes of exchanging it for the kindly offered caffeine, but if she didn’t take it there was still a chance she’d remember his name if she ever needed it. He was fairly certain he was the only Ulfric in town. “I might be biased but I think we’re safer and stronger if we stick together.” 

When the man held out the business card, Skylar hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t entirely certain what to expect from him-- first he’d seemed like a Hunter, dropping hints about things that he might know what she was, but then… he’d backed off. Given, they were in a public space, but the streets weren’t busy. He could easily just grab hold of her, attack her, without her being able to do anything. But instead, he was holding out a business card and saying something about changing. Frowning, she took the card from him, looking at it briefly. “Ulfric Haakonsson.” She read outloud, her tongue stumbling over the strange last name. “Sorry. I’m not good with unfamiliar names. But, um… what do you mean by that? Sticking together? Do you--” She balked, looking around carefully. There was no one around, at least, no one she could see nearby. “Are you… different?” She asked, not sure how else to frame her question. 

Ulfric grinned as she took the card. Doing one small uncomplicatedly right thing felt like a massive relief amidst the tangled mess of conflicting priorities he’d suddenly found himself in with the Bennetts. “Don’t apologize, that’s my great-great-grandfather Haakon’s fault for sticking us with one,” He waved off her apology, unable to hold in a laugh at her downplayed question. Compensating for still keen but less than peak performance hearing, he glanced along the street to confirm no one was in earshot before answering. “Around the full moon, sure.The rest of the time it depends who’s defining normal. Unfortunately for us those with the least tolerance for things deemed irregular, tend to be the most... well-armed. What about you?” He flipped the query back around on her, encouraged by her apparent curiosity. “Are you saying you consider yourself ordinary?”

When the man-- Ulfric-- let out a laugh, Skylar blinked in confusion. Had she said something funny? She didn’t quite understand why he would be laughing. But, when he mentioned the full moon, her stomach lurched. Werewolf. He was a werewolf, he must be. She didn’t know of any other kind of creature--person, that turned with the full moon. And… that must be how he could tell that she was some kind of creature as well. Because his sense of smell. He could tell what she was just at a glance. Biting the inside of her cheek, Skylar weighed her options. He knew she wasn’t human. She couldn’t lie. She hated that she couldn’t keep it a secret from him. But… if he was telling her what he was, he must be a good person, right? He was honest. And he’d said those kind words, of being stronger and safer together. They were words she’d heard from Ricky, but had been long abandoned. Could she trust this man? Realizing she hadn’t answered, Skylar cleared her throat. “No. Not really,” Her words came out in a slightly halting tone, not sure how to put what she was into meaningful euphemisms. “I don’t always feel comfortable in my own skin. And the sea, it’s where I’m meant to belong. I’m just not always… the best at dealing with it.” She said, hoping he would understand what she meant.

“Well, the world we’re living in certainly doesn’t make it so easy,” Ulfric replied thoughtfully, milling over the young woman’s words for clues that could be matched with what he knew of other shifter species. The mention of skin pointed towards selkie, but the comment about not being comfortable in hers was confusing and a little concerning. The close-knit colony he’d heard about in Iceland frequently returned to sea in their true forms, and he didn’t see putting it off for extended periods could possibly be healthy. Then again the current climate in White Crest wasn’t exactly friendly towards shifter habits. “Maybe it’s best if you lay low for a while,” He added with a hint of sadness. “Hunting season is heating up and they don’t tend to discriminate between one ‘beast’ and the next.” He mimed quotation marks with his free hand to make it clear he didn’t really believe that label hunters had slapped on all shifters and supernatural animals applied to them. “Just keep in mind my offer, alright? If you’re ever finding things too much to handle on your own.”

“No, it really doesn’t.” Skylar agreed, hoping that he understood what she’d meant. Did he realize that she was a selkie? She wasn’t quite sure how else she could make it clear, without just saying “I turn into a seal sometimes.” And this wasn’t quite the time or place to make such a statement. The man’s advice, words about a hunting season, they rang loud and clear. People were out in White Crest, looking to harm them. Looking to hurt people who were… like her. Who could change into things, even if they didn’t really want to. Swallowing, Skylar nodded. “Thanks for the advice.” She said with a nod, though her mind couldn’t help but go to Nic and to Rio and to how they were different. They weren’t just mindless murderers. They were good people, stuck in roles they didn’t quite like either. “I will. I… I might take you up on that.” She offered a small smile. 

“That’s all I can ask for.” Ulfric nodded, understanding why she’d remain hesitant. Unfortunately, there was only so much he could say to reassure her of his trustworthiness in the middle of the street. “Be seeing you around then, maybe.” Returning her smile, he gave a semi-reluctant wave goodbye before continuing in the direction of the parlor. He would just have to hope that the few words of warning he’d been able to give her would be enough to keep her from harm until she did decide to reach out or the problem was permanently, bloodily resolved. The news had undoubtedly added to the weight on the young shifter’s shoulders, and he did feel a small pang of regret for that. But, he concluded, as he arrived at the shuttered Ink Inc. shopfront, a few more blissful moments of ignorance weren’t worth dying over. It wasn’t until he got the heavily bolted shop door open that he realized he’d never got her name or any way to check up on her himself. Faen, he was going to need a lot more coffee. 

[thebiasrekkers]

Fragmentation 1.0

Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,435

AN: Like all of my works, there will be OCs working opposite of the boys. In this story, we have three. Next in the Fragmentation series is Elain. She is slated to be The One in the series. This is her tale on how she was found by one of the crew members of The Amaterasu. On to Hitomi’s origin story for Defragmentation! All information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!

Tag List: @aroseforyoongi​, @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432​, @shrimpmsg​

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Elain proceeded to clean up a few of the glasses that were left over in the sink. She saw Sam wiping the back of his hands on his apron before he reached over to grab another dish towel. Elain smiled, held her hand out to stop him and the grin only got bigger as she saw the inquisitive look on his face. He was, to say the least, slightly confused. Closing time always was the slowest and most boring part of a bartender's job description.

"Don't you need me to help you out?"

The woman smiled softly, tossing some of her dark blonde curls out of her face as she leaned forward to finish pulling out a few more wet glasses from out the sink to dry them. "I've got this. You just go on back to the house. You've been here since noon."

Sam was about to protest. He hated seeing Elain doing all the hard work and she knew that. At least he had a place to go home to in the evenings. With company, a warm meal, and a reasonable house of interesting people. But Elain...she only had that apartment with that crazy little border collie of hers. She claimed that she was fine and that the random visits to Sam’s home with his boisterous housemates made up for that, but in all honesty, Sam just thought she needed someone else in her life. A person who could relate to her pain and give her a shoulder to lean on...just as she could give her shoulder to them.

Shrugging out of his apron, he folded it up neatly and placed it in one of the bottom cabinets. "Alright. Well, if you need me to come back, just call me."

Elain nodded, shooing the man out the backdoor so she could close up. After she dried up the remaining glasses, she pulled her own apron off. Looking up at the VIP box office where her managers worked, Elain sighed. Word on the grapevine was that her bosses were affiliated with the mob. Though she couldn't say just how high up the food chain these two men were, she could almost guarantee that they were of high rank and standing within the mafia. 

Which, in turn, made them her enemies.

But she couldn't bring herself to be angry with them. After all, from what she could tell, they were involved because they had no other choice. As if it were a sort of livelihood for them. Kyle was an honest, diligent worker. The first to come in to work and the last to leave. Marcus came in and out every once in a while, but for the most part, a good hefty portion of the management job fell onto the younger brother’s shoulders. And, like tonight, only Kyle was working his crazy hours inside that office of his.

Pulling out two glasses, Elain poured a shot and a half's worth of bourbon in each one - adding two ice cubes to lightly dilute the liquid. If she knew anything, Kyle would definitely need an after work drink to relax and calm his nerves. She popped her neck some, massaging the shoulders here and there, before making her way out from behind the counter and sidling into the nearest stool. She picked up the cool glass and touched it to her lips, allowing the liquid to slowly slide down her throat. It was a welcome burn. After tracing her fingertips along the edge of the glass, she started lightly humming a song to herself as her hair, once again, fell into her piercing gray-blue eyes.

Dad...

Elain enjoyed the taste of the liquor sliding down her throat. As she heard the door to the office upstairs closing with a light click, she paused just as the glass was leaving her lips and she looked up with her dark slate eyes to see Kyle locking up the office. Smiling, she set the glass down on the coaster in front of her, looking back at the glass and fingering the edges once more with the tips of her digits. Mentally she smiled bigger than what her outer appearance allowed her to. 

After all, she wasn't one for giving away her inner most thoughts. Her specialty was people watching, after all.

The way Kyle shrugged his shoulders as he was locking up gave an air of resistance. Like he was shrinking back from some unknown force around him. It permeated a reclusive air that Elain just wasn't sure she was equal to. Her dog was company enough for her and she definitely didn't shrink back from Janice. The poor border collie would have been so offended. But it indicated just how tight of a hold Kyle had on himself - keeping others at arm's distances, if not further. 

He descended the stairwell.

As he reached the bottom, there was a slight hesitation in his steps. She could hear it - feel it - the breath between them so tense it could have been sliced with a knife or cut with fabric shears. Though the pause was but a half a second, Elain could sense the doubt. Would he approach? Should he approach? These were all things that Kyle was probably thinking. Beyond the occasional greeting, the two of them never really conversed all that much. He'd hired her because he was the manager - her boss - and she'd met the credentials needed to do the job. That was all that really mattered, right? Credentials?

He slid into the bar stool next to her and she turned her head on cue, flashing him a smile that was both soft and welcome as he picked up the glass of bourbon. "Thanks." 

His hum of approval was a welcoming sound and Elain felt her teeth show. Well, she certainly knew that she was the barkeep for a reason. When he turned to smile at her, Elain couldn't help but wonder if the smile was genuine or if it was a well-rehearsed gesture that Kyle practiced for a while. 

"Shouldn't you be home by now? It's not good to work so much," he teased, causing her to quip a brow as she lifted her glass to her lips.

"Nah," she said, shaking her head and closing her eyes as she waved one hand gently to the side before taking a whiff of the bourbon with satisfaction. "There's this sayin' back where I grew up. In a club, it's always the guy servin' the drinks and the guy cuttin' the checks that are the first to come in to work and the last to leave." Elain turned to look at him, eyes half-lidded in their sultry fashion as her smile broadened before winking cutely at him. "Guess that means us, hm?" 

Kyle’s smile went from polite to almost devious. “I suppose it does.”

Laughing lightly, she ran a hand through her thick raven locks while turning to look at him, her bangles jangling like little bells by her ear as she moved to rest her elbow on the counter top. "So tell me, Boss Man. Why's it feel like you're locked away up there in your office like some mad scientist instead of coming down here and chatting with me during a break?" She gently clinked her glass against his as he held it up halfway from his face. "For a minute there, I thought it was because you didn't like me." 

Her smile widened and she laughed lightly once more, tossing some of her raven hair from her shoulders as her other hand rested on her bare torso. This outfit was indeed quite strange, but she didn't mind. Elain knew it suited the work atmosphere and it was necessary for her to "blend in" because the customer should always be the focus of her attention. 

Boss or not, she was currently her customer.

"I would love to come down for a drink every now and then, but I don’t really take breaks with as much work as I do. What's the saying? 'There's no rest for the wicked'? Or, in my case, no rest for the 'Boss Man' as you put it." Kyle gave a little chuckle of his own before it died off to a simple, amused smirk on his lips.

“Not much of a crowd person.” Elain said it like it was a statement versus a question. She waited for him to confirm or deny it, but when he said nothing, she simply shrugged one shoulder and set her glass down on the coaster in front of her. “I can understand that.”

He quirked a brow at her. “You do?”

She nodded, her brows furrowing slightly. “Yeah. I mean, sure, we work in the bar and club business, but we keep ourselves isolated from it all.” She pointed toward his private office. “You have your office and I have my bar,” she continued, smoothing her hand over the counter, “there’s always a line that we divide between us and the rest of the world.”

In a way, it was almost like they were born isolated from what they knew to be the world around them. It felt natural, yet it felt wrong all in the same instance. Elain could never fully gauge why she felt that way, but only that she did.

Kyle looked at her for a long time; longer than what she was used to or even comfortable with. There were a variety of reasons why people stared at her and it was usually because of her appearance. She was a light-skinned, Creole woman with dark blonde curls and piercing grayish-blue eyes. People often thought she wore contacts, but it was just her genetics. 

Half English, half Haitian.

He sighed, his eyes shifting to look back at his glass. “And some of us are higher on the food chain than everyone else.”

Elain blinked, confused by his words. “What do you mean, Kyle?”

Suddenly, the door to the club opened. Elain stood up on reflex, her eyes scanning the doorway. A young man of Asian descent with black and orange hair entered. He had a pair of sunglasses on, which was strange for that time of night. He wore a white leather jacket with a black rocker t-shirt underneath stuffed into his black denim jeans with the knees torn open. 

“Um, excuse me,” Elain called out to him.

The heels of the man’s combat boots clicked against the tile floor as he scanned the club, his head stopping as he faced in their direction. 

She frowned. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed for the night.”

“It’s you.” His voice was soft but full of authority. It caused her brows to furrow in confusion as she heard Kyle shifting from his chair next to her. “You’re the one I’ve been looking for.”

“What are you talking about?” 

It was all she could manage to get out before the man was reaching behind him. Within seconds, he was pulling out a gun, the barrel trained at her boss. Elain gasped sharply, her hands shooting up in a show of surrender. 

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!” she demanded. 

The man said nothing. Instead, he squeezed the trigger and fired off a shot - the bullet zipping out to plunge itself into Kyle’s forehead. A spray of blood splattered across Elain’s arm as she let out an ear splitting shriek - her eyes growing wide while her boss’s body hit the ground with a hard thud. Tears filled her eyes as she fell to her knees, her hands shakily reaching out to touch him. The sound of rushed footsteps seemed to vibrate inside of her ears, muffling all the noise around her. 

As she stared at Kyle’s body, she watched it jerk slightly, as though he were being electrocuted, and then fizzled into a different form. The man lying beside her was no longer the kind and quiet Kyle, but a man whom she didn’t recognize - his eyes covered by a pair of sunglasses and a security earpiece in his ear. Even his suit, casual and comfortable, was replaced with a stuffy one that someone from a high profile security detail would wear. 

“W-What’s going on?” Elain barely managed to croak out. 

Just then, she felt her arm being grabbed roughly and she craned her neck to see that it was the man who’d killed her boss. Or, at least, the man she’d thought was her boss. She tried to pull herself free, but he only tightened his hold on her.

“Let me go!”

“We don’t have time for this,” he snapped, all but yanking her up to her feet, “we need to leave this place. Now.”

The doors to the club suddenly burst open, a torrent of gunshots and bullets spraying in varying directions. Elain screamed, covering her ears as the stranger immediately slammed his chest into her back. They crashed to the floor and a sharp pain hit her elbows as they collided with the ground. The bar counter served as a momentary shield, the sound of glass breaking as powerful as the smell of alcohol as they leaked from their containers. There was a distinct sound of something being shifted and Elain felt her arm being gripped once more. When she looked back, she saw the stranger pulling out a zippo lighter from his pocket. 

Before she could ask him what he was about to do, he shifted his gaze to meet hers. His sunglasses came off during their fall. There was a sharp intake of breath from Elain as she looked into his eyes.

They were the same slate blue as her own.

The man threw the lighter over the counter and Elain could smell the alcohol catching fire. Taking a moment to utilize the confusion, he grabbed for her arm and hauled her up onto her feet. There wasn’t even enough time for him to yell at her to run. She just let her legs instinctively take control. Gunshots rang out through the club as they both bee-lined for the rear entrance to the club. 

Sweat ran down Elain’s spine as her feet ate up the ground, the stranger hot on her heels. Sliding on the wet concrete, her shoulder slammed into the brick wall of the alley. Grunting, she tried to urge her legs to keep going but the adrenaline was starting to drain out from her. As if he’d sensed it, the man grabbed her hand and all but dragged her behind him. 

They reached the end of the alley, his arm shooting out to stop her from stepping out onto the side street. Elain’s heart drummed heavily against her chest, the beating reaching her ears and muffling all other sounds from her senses. There was a point where she thought the world was blurring in and out of focus around her, but she couldn’t be sure. Were those men still chasing them? Was she actually standing there and not running anymore?

The sound of tires screeching to a halt was the last thing Elain heard before everything motion blurred around her - fading into darkness.

“Somebody better start talking,” Elain snarled, her back pressed to the wall of what looked like an abandoned building, “I want answers!”

Another Asian man, different from the one who’d snatched her from the club, stood in an opposite corner of the room. He cradled what looked like a sniper rifle in his hands, the barrel of the gun resting along his left shoulder and across his body. He scoffed, a derisive smirk spreading over his lips. 

“She’s feisty,” he said, craning his neck to look at the man who brought her there, “I like her already.”

“Keep it in your pants, Ares,” snapped a woman with blonde hair stuffed into a ball cap, “business first. You can get laid later.”

The man, Ares, snorted before leveling his gaze back to Elain. She frowned at him, his arrogant smirk refusing to fall. For good measure, she threw the bird at him. Instead of responding in offense, Ares laughed and shook his head. It caused Elain to blink and further pressed herself along the wall.

Unable to shake the trepidation from her body, she clutched and wrung her hands together. The person who brought her to that unknown place approached her. When he was less than three feet away from her, Elain shifted again even though she knew she had nowhere to go.

“You can relax. You’re safe and among friends.” He tried to sound reassuring and she had to admit that his soft voice was, in a sense, calming.

“Speak for yourself.” The woman cut her green eyes to Elain. “We’re not even sure she’s going to relent.”

“She will, Crow.” Ares’s smirk widened. “She’s too curious not to.”

“Quiet. Both of you.” The man never took his eyes off of her, forcing Elain to focus on only him for the moment. “They call me Cobra. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

Elain’s lips parted, her eyes widening in shock. “Y-You’re--?”

“The one who successfully hacked the government’s Central Intelligence systems? You would be right.” Cobra smiled, the gentleness meeting his eyes. “I had some help, of course, but it was mostly my work.”

“Don’t let Frost or Miles hear you. They’ll never let you hear the end of it.” The woman, Crow, called out to them but Cobra didn’t acknowledge her physically. He kept his eyes locked on Elain.

Those names were like little firecrackers going off in the back of her brain. She’d heard of them while she was tooling around on the net. But it was the question that always lingered in her mind. The question that she longed to obtain the answers.

“What is The Matrix?”

Elain couldn’t stop the gasp from leaving her lips even if she’d wanted to. How could he have known that was the question she was wanting to know the answer to? He smiled, canting his head slightly as he looked at her.

“I know that look. It’s the same look I had on my face once.” 

He reached out to grab one of her hands and she didn’t try to resist. Turning her hand over, he placed something inside her palm. When she looked back at her hand, there were two gelatin capsules in her hand. One red, the other blue. Her brows furrowed and she looked back to Cobra, his face calm and reassuring.

“Hitomi,” he said, causing tears to form in her eyes, “you have a choice to make right now. Even though I already know what choice you’re going to make, I still want to give you the option to bail out.” He pointed to her hand. “The red pill will lead you down the path that will answer all of your questions. But it will also give birth to more questions, some of which you may never find the answers for. The blue pill will make you forget everything prior to the moment I walked into your life. You won’t even have the questions inside of you anymore.” 

Crow approached Cobra, handing him a glass of water. He held it out to Elain, to which she absentmindedly took it.

He knew so much and she seemed to know so little. Would she really be okay never knowing the truth? Would she be okay returning to a life of blissful ignorance?

Elain dropped the blue pill onto the ground, tossing the red pill into her mouth and draining the glass of water. Within seconds, both Crow and Ares were moving around her. They were pushing her onto a nearby couch and panic snaked up her throat as she was forced to lay down. Pressing a variety of sticky pads to her skin and temples, she noticed the monitoring devices and felt her panic growing. Cobra pressed his palm along her forehead, feeling his cool palm easing the inflamed feeling flushing out across her skin. 

For a moment, she forgot about her fears and all the movement going on around her. The onset of hysteria was briefly beaten back by Cobra’s almost serene expression. Her eyelids grew a little heavy as he stroked his thumb along the space between her eyebrows.

“I’ll see you soon, Hitomi…”

Hitomi nodded, her eyes lifting to stare mindlessly at the ceiling. She took a deep breath, blinked twice, and watched the world dissolve into darkness - the space replaced with lines of green code. She felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

And then it all went dark again.

“Welcome to the Real World.”