#kicking my legs and ungodly screeches

[whatreallyhappenedinbudapest]

"Far up the hill, as if they had come racing down from the mountains and had not stopped for food or water or sleep, were a towering man, a massive bird, and three of the largest predators she had ever seen.

Five in all.

Answering their friend's desperate call for aid."

if this doesn't have you screaming and kicking your feet and throwing the book across the room I don't know what will.

[fluffomatic]

The Belt

Words: 1,398

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Characters: Varras (farmer oc), Slight Sebastian

Relationship: Minor Varras x Sebastian

Description: After being in a mood for days Varras looks to the internet for help. Little did he know his purchase would lead to such a ticklish situation!

WARNING: this is a tickle fic! If you don't like that please scroll past!!

Proof read and edited by my amazing friend @sparklepopsfluff

Varras awoke to the sound of his doorbell. He slowly sat up and rubbed the remaining fatigue from his eyes. He searched his mind for who could possibly want to see him at such an ungodly hour...until realization hit him.

 Just a few nights prior, he had been in what you would call...a ‘unique’ mood. Not an uncommon mood for him, but one he couldn't easily manage. At least, not on his own. But how could he ask someone for help with this? No no, that was far too embarrassing. He took to the internet out of desperation. Surely something could help him! And to his surprise, he managed to find the help he’d needed; a forum filled with others like him who had found a solution. He clicked on a provided link, adding the item to his bag and quickly purchasing it.

It seemed it had finally arrived! Varras shot out of bed, quickly throwing on his normal attire and rushing to the door. He stood there for a moment, making sure both the delivery person and any potential witnesses were gone. And after the all clear, he slowly opened the door and looked down at his doorstep... there sat an inconspicuous brown cardboard box. He grabbed the box and slammed the door behind him. He slowly made his way over to the dining room table and set the box down. With a shaky breath he cut the tape and opened the box.

There it was.

A belt. A strange looking belt. The strap was thick, bulky and a deep blue color. The buckle was large and made of gold. Right in the middle was a keyhole. Seeing this, he scanned the box and sure enough he found a key right next to a remote. He took the key out and, without paying much attention, tossed it beside the box. Next he removed the belt and examined it. Now that he was holding it in his hands, it dawned on him what he was doing. His face began to heat up as he stared at the device. "You wanted this. Come on, just do it..." he thought as he slowly wrapped the belt around his stomach, the buckle resting right on his navel. He grabbed the remote and hurriedly made his way to his room, a sudden twinge of excitement in his chest.

He stood next to his bed as he stared down at the remote. "Come on Varras. Come on. You've been waiting so long for this. Press. The. Button." A wave of excitement and anxiety hit him. He slowly worked up the courage, and pressed the button. And with that...

The belt flared to life.

"AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!" He jolted as the belt vigorously vibrated, small nubs massaging his sides, belly and navel. He felt long thin tendrils somehow slither into his shirt and slide all over his abdomen. And holy hell, did it tickle. The sudden tickling caused him to drop the remote to the hard ground, his laughter drowning out the loud 𝘾 𝙍 𝘼 𝘾 𝙆. Losing the strength in his legs, Varras fell back onto his bed, the belt still continuing its merciless attack. "AH! GNNGH-NAAAAHAHAHAHAAA! AHH HAHAHA O-OHOHOHO SHIIIHIHIHIIIT!!" The tickling was so intense, so unbelievably unbearable...and Varras loved it. Oh god, did he love it! He'd been craving this for so long...and now he’d finally gotten it?  He was in heaven.

He lay on his bed, squirming around and frantically thrashing his arms above his head as the tickling continued. He felt the belt’s small nubs begin to quicken as they massaged into his belly, causing him to buck and screech. "OHOHOHOO MY GAAHAHAHAHAHAAAD OHOHOO SHIHIHIT IT TICKLES!! GEEEEEEHEHEHAHAHAHA IT TIHIHIHIHIICKLESSS!!" He pressed his palms into his eyes and kicked his legs. Almost 10 minutes had passed, but Varras was nowhere near ready to call it quits. He rolled onto his side as he felt the tendrils crawling ticklishly upward. He squeaked and squirmed around as they slowly traveled up and down, occasionally scribbling near his sensitive ribs. "NNNGH! NOOHOHOHOOO! NO, NOHO, NOT THAAAHAHAHHAT! EEP! EEEEHEHEHAHAHAHAAA! DOOHOHOHOHOON'T!" He pleaded ...uselessly to the belt as if it could understand him. Now 20 minutes had passed and he was beginning to run out of breath. But still, he didn’t want it to stop. 

He let the belt go for another 10 minutes before he decided he needed a break. Fighting against his screaming nerves, he slowly sat up, reached down, and grabbed the remote. But when he pressed the button,the belt didn't stop. "W-WHAHAHAT!?! N-NO NOHOHO, STOHOHOP!!" He pressed the button again, and again, and once more. But nothing. The belt refused to let up and the tickling was becoming way too much to handle. He tries to take off the belt but it refuses to budge. "AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAA!! G-GEHEHEHET OFF GET AAHAHAHAHAHAAFF!! PLEEHEHEHEHEE HE HE HEASE!! T-THE KEY!! WHERE'S THE THAHAHAHAHAAA THE KEEEHEHEHEHEEE!?!?!!!" On shaky legs, he searched his room desperately to find the key-with no luck. Then, he heard the belt ding. "Time has reached 45 minutes. Tickle intensity increasing to max." And with that, he doubled over as the sensations got worse. This was the most intense tickling he'd ever felt in his life. The nubs were now moving faster than ever, the tendrils sprouting rotating brushes and small metal hands as they squeezed and spun around his sides and belly. Some scratched at his ribs and hips. A spinner decorated with feathers snuck its way into his belly button..and the vibrations cranked up to max. "AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!” Varras snorted. “AAAAHAHAHAHAA! NAAHAHAHAHAA, GAAAHAHAHA! NAAAHAHAHA, STAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAP PLEHEEHEHEHAHAHAHAHASE!! T-TOOHOHOHAHAHAHA MUAHAHAHAHAHAHACH!!! I-I CAAAAHHAHAHAHAAAN'T" Varras fell to the floor, losing all the remaining strength in his legs. He was sure he was doomed. Cursed by this desire to be wrecked. He got his wish; he'd been destroyed by a simple belt! But something in him kept him going. Despite his foggy brain, by some blessing, he remembered where he left the key. Well, at least that he left in the kitchen. He began to crawl out of his room, fighting against his screaming nerves as he approached the kitchen table. There it was. On the floor, glittering alluringly, was the key. The belt once again intensified the sensations, though, forcing him to stop. A screech fell past his lips. "AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAAAA! NAAHAHAHAHA, I-I’M SOHOHAHAHAHA CLOOOHOHOHOHOOSE!! J-JUST GAAAHAHA HAAHAHAVE TO REEEHEHEHEHEACH-" With one last stretch, his fingers closed over the cool metal. With the last of his energy, he thrust the key into the lock and threw the belt off, collapsing onto the floor.

Varras touched his hand to his belly as he lay on his back. "Guh huh hehe heheheee... ihihihiit still t-tihihickles.... neehehehehee!" He continues to rub the residual tingly tickles from his tummy as he lay, still giggling, on the floor. After a few minutes they finally subsided, allowing him to sit up and cautiously grab the belt.. He looked at it, feeling his face flushing. He couldn’t lie to himself. Despite the torturous tickling at the end, he’d had much fun. He really did love this belt! He returned to his room to collect the remote, noticing the large crack on the side. "Must have broken it..." Varras sighed. "Hopefully I can get this fixed."

１ ＷＥＥＫ ＬＡＴＥＲ

"Geeheheheheheeee ah! Ahhahahaaa eeehahahahaaa!!!" Varras squealed as his legs kicked out as the belt softly teased and tickled his belly. After contacting the company, he’d been able to quickly get the remote working, and he’d even learned how to adjust the settings. Suddenly he screeched as the tickling strengthened out his control. "AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAAAA! NAAHAHAHAHAAA N-NAHAHAHAT THAT!! S-SEBASTIAN!! YOU DIDN'T WAHAHAHAHARN MEEEHEHEHEHEEE!!" His boyfriend giggled. "That's what you get for giving me the remote, love~ Hmmm...what does this button do~?" Without waiting for a response, he pressed it. The belt intensified its sensations again as feathers began to dance around Varras’ belly and slide into the dip in the center. "OOOHOHOHOO FUUHUHUHUHUUCK!! SEBBY, PLEEEHAHAHAHAHAAASE! Y-YOU SUHUHUHUHUCK!! EEK!! N-NAHAHAHAAT THE FEAHEAHEAHEAHEATHERSS!!" Sebastian chuckled at his partner. "Gosh, I wish you told me you liked this sooner. You're so damn cute, Varras! I need to make up for all that time I could've been tickling you...Hope you're ready for a looong night dear~" Sebastian cooed as he gently stroked the hair of his laughing boyfriend. It was indeed a long, loooong night for the poor ticklish farmer. 

________________

Oh my gosh I'm sorry if this is bad 😅 I'm seriously no good at putting my ideas into words! I'm also gonna make this into a comic but I wanted to get my ideas down first so it would be easier drawing the comic later. Hope you all enjoyed Varras getting absolutely destroyed!! He sure did 😏 And Sebastian is gonna have a blast with the belt too!

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.5

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4

Summary: someone please give Nicole a break for the love of Miranda. And there be smut y'all

---

Seeing Cassandra's softer side made something flutter within Nicole's chest. The brunette was a sadist through and through. Witness to that fact was the array of torture devices that littered the dungeons. Not to mention the prisoners she frequently killed, only to haul them on the autopsy tables in her study to be examined, chopped and sectioned by the both of them.

But there was an uncharacteristic sort of gentleness in the way their lips slid against each other, sharp teeth occasionally biting down on Nicole's lower lip but never enough to draw blood. In the way Cassandra would drag sharp nails against flushed skin, but not go beyond the pleasurable amount of pain. Even the glint in golden eyes when Nicole went over some old notes of hers on more tricky anatomy concepts. Having an exclusive look at this side of Cassandra felt beyond intimate and the thought almost made her miss when the brunette spoke from where she was leaning over a notebook.

"Okay let's just wrap this up, I have plans."

Nicole hummed, dropping the liver she was holding in a freezer bag. Most body parts were already bagged and ready to be picked up by Cynthia and her undercooks, they were just putting into practice some things the brunette was curious about. She dropped the now blood soaked leather gloves in the sink and went to sit by Cassandra, who was scribbling some final notes.

"In that case I'll go enjoy a cup of tea," she sighed. "Tea that I had to skip because someone was eager to start on this early."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at her, accompanied by her usual smirk. "I meant plans with you."

Oh? That was new. The brunette laughed at Nicole's wide eyed expression and snapped her notebook shut. She took her sweet time putting it on the shelf with the others and checking the time, pretending not to notice the redhead's inquisitive expression. Then, she lifted Nicole’s chin with a thankfully not covered in blood finger.

"Don't get me wrong I love it here but," she grimaced, "it gets stuffy sometimes. Especially in summer."

Well, that much was true. The undergrounds of the castle were oddly warm, although not downright hot, compared to what one would expect from a castle. Pair that with the annoyingly humid atmosphere and having to wear a leather apron and gloves so as to not completely ruin your outfit and you got the perfect recipe for discomfort. She really ought to ask Cassandra about installing some kind of better ventilation down here.

"Meet me in the attic in about… an hour." She leaned down and their mouths were so close that Nicole could feel icy breath on her lips.

The attic? She's never been to the attic, it was not only off limits for most staff but also dangerous if rumors were to be believed. Not that she had the clarity of mind to voice any concerns when Cassandra finally leaned in to kiss her, complete with a nip on her lower lip that made Nicole’s breath hitch.

---

The fact that Nicole had no idea how to get to the attic could be a slight problem. She had asked Anita, but not only did she not know, she also seemed mortified by the idea. Another maid just gave her vague directions to look for a ladder on the top floor. As if that wasn't like trying to find the needle in a haystack. Or the needle in a giant castle.

She was just wandering around the top floor, praying not to stumble upon anyone who would be less than thrilled to see her there. A sigh of relief escaped past her lips when she heard familiar buzzing and steps coming towards her.

"Oh Cas-" she swallowed her words when she noticed red hair spilling from underneath a black hood.

"Nicole! What are you doing here hmm?" Her inquisitive hum was way too exaggerated the same way her fangs seemed too sharp when she grinned.

"I was just looking for Ca- lady Cassandra. She asked me to meet her in the attic."

Daniela's mouth fell open, almost forming an O shape. Then back to her characteristic giggle, almost as if laughing at a joke only she knew.

"What, you don't know how to get there?"

"...Not really," she sheepishly admitted.

And that was a mistake. Nicole would've preferred to wander the hallways until Cassandra eventually got bored enough of waiting and decided to come see where her glorified lab partner was. But her plan was ruined by Daniela wordlessly grabbing her arm and pulling her in the opposite direction she was going in. She even went the extra mile to partially turn into a swarm, which made Nicole's panic skyrocket. She didn't mind bugs. But having hundreds of them fly all around you, accompanied by manic giggling was a whole other thing.

Before she knew it though, Daniela let go of her arm, laughing a little at Nicole's stumbling. She gestured dramatically towards a ladder and said:

"There you go. Say hi to Cassie for me."

"Th- thank you my lady." And with a small bow of the head she grabbed the ladder and started ascending on shaky legs.

"And enjoy your date," she called out, once Nicole was at the top of the stairs.

Blushing, she decided to ignore the comment and start looking for the sister less likely to turn her into fly food.

The attic looked… old. It was obvious that people didn't come here often, although someone probably did clean it regularly as there were no cobwebs nor dirt on any surfaces, aside from some dust. It was full of neatly arranged boxes and crates, their contents as mysterious as the castle's inhabitants. Tentative steps took her across ancient floorboards, navigating old rooms.

"Rah!"

Nicole damn near jumped out of her skin, a string of curses spilling past her lips. "Jesus fucking christ Cassandra!"

The brunette only laughed, hands on her knees and pretending to wipe a tear from her eye.

"That's what you get for making me wait for so long."

"I didn't even know where the attic entrance was! Good thing one of your sisters came to my rescue." Nicole rolled her eyes at the last word.

Cassandra stopped laughing, eyes narrowing slightly. "Which one?"

"Uh- Danie-"

"Did she hurt you?" Cassandra grabbed her arms, golden eyes looking for any visible injuries.

Nicole just laughed softly, taken off guard by the display of concern. "No, no. Just gave me a bit of a fright, that's all."

With an eye roll, Cassandra guided her further into the attic, through more dusty rooms, until they reached a short corridor, light spilling from its other end. The room they entered was relatively small, almost half of it occupied by stacked boxes as if it used to be a storage room like the rest of the attic and nobody bothered to completely clear it out. A few pieces of furniture were also present: a couch with a coffee table in front of it and paintings leaning against a wall to collect dust. This room however had a window, left slightly ajar, that allowed you to see the mountains stretching on the horizon, crowned by the beautiful orange hues of dusk.

Nicole moved to the glass to take in the view, mouth almost hanging open, when an ungodly screech from outside made her backpedal straight into Cassandra.

"What the fuck was that?" She asked, eyes widening at the sight of flying creatures circling the towers.

"Mother's flying guard dogs."

"They sound the same way I'd imagine the souls of the damned do." Nicole didn’t take her eyes off the ghoulish creatures, almost as if keeping eye contact would dissuade them from attacking.

Cassandra just shrugged. "Wouldn't be too far off. Also here." She sat on the couch, gesturing towards a cup.

Nicole went to sit by her side, grabbing the mystery cup. She frowned slightly when the steam reached her nose, bringing with it a pleasant minty and honey aroma.

"Tea?"

"Since you were so disheartened about having to skip it earlier," Cassandra averted her eyes, seemingly finding the curtains very interesting.

After a long sip, she let out a content sigh. The warmth was more than welcomed, despite the weather. She set the cup back on the table and turned her attention on the brunette, now fidgeting with the corner of a pillow.

"Thank you," Nicole said, leaving a small kiss on her cheek.

Cassandra smiled and turned around, locking their lips in a kiss that at first mimicked her gentleness, but soon turned hungry when dainty hands made their way to the brunette's nape, pulling her closer. She shifted them both, pushing Nicole down on the pillows littering the couch, until she was laying on top of her, legs on each side of her waist. Her focus was on leaving a trail of nips and kisses down Nicole's neck when the redhead jumped and barely stifled a yelp at another screech from outside.

"Ugh what the fuck is today, scare me out of my mind day?"

"How are you scared of these but countless dead bodies don't phase you?" Cassandra laughed, sound muffled by her position with her mouth against Nicole's neck.

"I used to work on corpses, not on ugly gargoyles that could chew my face off!" She gestured wildly at the window and the few creatures visible outside.

"You what?"

"You...didn't know?" Nicole couldn't help a giggle at Cassandra's confused expression.

"How was I supposed to know?"

"I thought your mother told you already. Or your sisters," Nicole shrugged.

"They knew?!" And, after something seemed to dawn on her, "Oh I'm gonna kick both their asses."

Nicole couldn’t help letting out a small laugh, placing her hands on Cassandra's cheeks and, with a pout for dramatic effect, "Right now?"

As much as the sight was both funny and endearing, the warmth starting to pool at her core was making her beyond impatient.

The indignation in golden eyes was replaced by an all too familiar glint and black painted lips went back to their work on Nicole's neck. Sharp fangs pierced the skin there, just enough to draw a few drops of blood and a whine. After licking every last bit of it, Cassandra's lips moved to the collarbones and lower, hands slowly starting to undo the buttons of Nicole's pesky uniform that was in the way.

When both the button up and the skirt were discarded on the floor Nicole tangled her fingers through black hair and pulled Cassandra in for a kiss. Her free hand went to the back of the dress, pulling down the zipper and guiding it off of the brunette's shoulders. Once both of them were left only in undergarments, Nicole pulled back to look up at the brunette.

"If I knew I was supposed to dress up I would've asked the chambermaid if there's anything fancy in the uniform stash," she said, taking in the beautifully intricate lace of Cassandra's matching bra and underwear, complete with a giggle at her awful joking.

The brunette only raised an eyebrow. "Mhm I can take care of that. Not like you'll need these for long though." Her hands reached under Nicole's back to unclasp her bra and in mere moments that too was on top of the pile of clothes on the floor.

Then Cassandra bent down to crash their lips together, tongue slipping past Nicole's lips when a wandering hand elicited a gasp from her.

Cassandra was by no means a patient person. Quite the opposite actually. But teasingly dragging her nails across sensitive skin only to feel the girl under her squirm and whine when her hand just won't go where she needed it made waiting all the more sweet. Slender fingers started to toy with the edges of Nicole's underwear. After a groan against her lips and an impatient tug of hair, Cassandra finally gave in, slipping two fingers inside her. She felt Nicole arch into her, a broken moan escaping past her lips when she broke the kiss to let her head fall back into the cushions. Cassandra took that as an opportunity to kiss the length of her neck, occasionally stopping to suck or bite at a spot, enjoying every gasp and moan she drew out of the redhead.

With Cassandra's rough pace it didn't take long before Nicole was clenching her thighs around her hand. Cassandra kissed her, swallowing her moan as she came.

The small room in the attic, Cassandra's drawing room she would later find out, was the perfect secluded spot. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other. First evening of many.

[ask-rp-devra]

The slow pace was pleasant, despite the snow the sun shone brightly, and the pair was able to enjoy taking in the routes sights and sounds, plenty of Pokemon near by, you could see their tracks in the snow, the odd traveller moving from the station too. As Devra moved to the tree, Peach followed, standing out of her shot, looking up at the trees immense size and fresh colour.

“‘it’s really beautiful here...” her eyes squinted up further into the tree, something beyond the lower branches moving, then suddenly flying at speed from the tree. A moment later and snow hit the Professor square in the face, going down the back of her coat, getting an ungodly screech from her as she jumped about very suddenly to get the snow out, her poor Pokemon holding on for dear life.

Devra jumped at the sound, clutching her camera to her chest to keep from dropping it. She turned around to see the woman in distress. She rushed over and started to help shake the snow out of her coat. “Can you warm things up please Valka?” She finished getting the snow out and then started patting Peach’s back to try and warm her up.

The woman was already having a wailord of a time, the snow being so horribly cold, she was great full when Val fanned her tail out, increasing the ambient temperature around them all by easily 15 degrees, trying not to melt too much of the snow around them while heating up her trainer. Peach huffed, laughed a bit, and tanked everyone, hacking her bag to see if Dreepy was ok. He had been shocked yes but seemed fine once the situation had been explained, returning to the bag, his little face sticking out to watch everything going on.

“ok, ok. I think I’ll survive, got to remember not to stand under trees so much here hah.” She grinned in her weird lopsided way at Devra and thanked her, a little damp but otherwise fine now Val was doing her heat thing. “hope you got the shot you wanted, sorry to startle you all.” She even looked to Cole who had stopped what he was doing to investigate.

The little pup was sniffing at Peach’s feet, her behavior making him very curious. “Don’t worry I got it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had snow fall on me while taking pictures during the winter. But yeah, maybe avoid that.” She laughed with the Professor as they continued down the road. “Must have woken you up real food though.”

“‘I don’t think I’ve ever been this awake in my life, and I don’t know how to feel about it.” A bit of a joke, as the pair wandered towards the town, the tops of roofs starting to show up in the distance, and the smell of chimney smoke giving them both a sense of the warmth to come.

She took a deep breath of the cold and crisp air. “First thing I’m doing is getting some coffee. I might like the snow but I like it with hot drinks even more.” She glanced around, noticing a small open area tucked to the side of the trail. “Hey! Why don’t we let Aliza see the snow there?”

Spotting the same opening the woman nodded, honestly focused on the mention of a hot coffee, but the untouched snow begged for prints to be added to it.

“you know she’ll be all legs, excited, trying to jump things, running about madly. Yes. Let’s let her loose.” It’d be cute, a pokemons first snow is always a special little moment. The pack moved to the opening, peach sitting to one side, Val and her scraping snow off of a fallen tree, sitting neatly together, while the little Dreepy came out to see what was going on.

“‘get your camera ready for it, you know it’ll be cute.”

Devra was already ahead of her, getting her camera set for the bright light of the snowy area. She then took out a pokeball and released Aliza, camera ready for anything. The young ponyta shook herself after being in her ball for so long, then looked around her her person. She snorted in confusion when she noticed all of the white around her, ears flicking about. “Look Ali! It’s snow!” Devra snapped a couple pictures before kneeling down to show her it was okay to touch. Coal even came over and showed her you could leave prints in the snow. Aliza slowly lowered her head, sniffing at the snow. But before Devra could warm her the ponyta let out a loud sneeze as some loose snow got into her nose. She reared back and snorted, shaking her head before she started running laps with little bucks and kicks.

Yep. Disgustingly sweet. Dreepy looked to the little hybrid ponyta with fondness and familiarity, but while she bolted about in excitement, kept his distance. Peach noticed this little moment, petting him every so slightly as he sat on her lap with its little arms folded. “‘don’t worry bud, she’ll come over when she’s ready, she’s never seen the snow before, I bet you were excited your first time too.” He made a weird chirping sound before continuing to watch quite patiently. Devra was busy snapping pics and playing, Coal too, everyone seemed content for the moment, it was very quaint.

“‘I don’t think anyone would mind us travelling with the whole group out of their pokeballs, they’re not exactly a difficult bunch of Pokemon. You should keep her with you, she’s obviously enjoying it a lot.” A laugh escaped her as coal and Aliza collided with a skid and sudden stop, not bothered by the slippery terrain, or the tumble taken, back up in no time.

“I think I will. She’s having so much fun I don’t want to stop her.” She finished taking her massive amounts of pictures, going over to join peach on the log. Aliza kept going for another ten minutes before she came skidding to a halt, snorting from all the running she’d done. She then trotted over to Devra for attention, leaning into her for the pets she so desperately wanted. As the ponyta stood there she noticed the little dreepy, abd stretched her nose out to give him a sniff.

Dreepy hid, just for a brief moment, before slowly peeking out, touching noses with the pokemon, to get to know her smell. He seemed happy after a moment where they got to interact, Aliza reminded him of the other ponyta he had gotten to know, though not quite, and he couldn’t quite put his little mitts on why.

“I must admit, I’m worried about this Dragon type with all this snow around. I’ve seen nothing but ice types since we got here, hopefully he stays out of too much trouble, maybe the ghost in him will balance it out a bit.” Peach was unfamiliar with both dragons and ghosts, having had very few in her lifetime, mostly dual type grass or bug, making them much easier to work with, this Pokemon actually did unnerve her a little, she couldn’t help but worry about him constantly in the back of her mind.

“‘fire types are so straight forward in comparison hah!” The cluster of Pokemon around them all fell into the fire category, bar the little dragon, and you could tell, their ambient heat was slowly melting the snow where they sat, puddles forming around their feet over time.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay. Just got to keep him out of any fights for the time being.” She stood up after a minute to stretch. “Should we get going then? It looks like the little girl got her energy out for the time being.” Aliza snorted and gave Devra a little headbutt, making her giggle.

“sounds like a plan.” And so the group stood, brushed any snow off, and began their trek to the village close by, all Pokemon actually quite happy to walk together, aside from Val who took her watch post on Peach’s shoulder as per usual. It was however nice to see that little Dreepy being part of something now Aliza was out and about. He seemed a bit more confident for it.

“Hot coffee sounds amazing right about now, you really hit the nail on the head with that earlier.”

Aliza stuck close to Devra at they went, wanting to be close to the human that smelled like home. Coal on the other hand kept bounding ahead, keeping the group in eyesight. “So what area do you think we should go to first?”

[gotnofucks]

Loving Dodger

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Your journey of overcoming your fear of dogs to loving Dodger.

Words: 3.6k

Warning: mention of smut, language. Loads of fluff

A/N: I obviously don’t know Chris Evans, this is just a story.

MASTERLIST

+++++

Everyone was packing up and you rushed to get things in order. Your coffee had gone cold hours ago, and some poor intern would be responsible for throwing it away from wherever you had left it. Working in the film industry could be rough, and this was just backstage. You went through the set, automatically putting things in order as you moved and waved goodbye to others. Stuffing the last of your things in your overstuffed bag, you left to find a taxi. You were glad you weren’t working tomorrow morning, for you planned to have a long hot shower and an undisturbed sleep after a long time.

It was late at night and no taxis came your way. You hated taking an Uber this late, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You had only just taken out your phone when a car stopped in front of you. The driver’s side door opened, and a smiling Chris Evans greeted you.

“Can I give you a ride milady?” He asked and you snorted.

“You have the worst English accent. If you do that in London, they’ll smell the imposter in you” You said. “And it’s cool, I’m calling an uber.”

Chris frowned, leaning against the door with arms spread, his few sizes short, too tight shirt stretching over his broad frame. You felt like he needed to be arrested for the cardiac arrests he may cause.

“At this time, and even when a handsome, chivalrous man is offering a safe ride? You wound me sweetheart.” He grabbed his left boob, faking a pained expression and you sighed.

“God, you’re awful Chris. You sure it’s okay, a little out of your way isn’t it?”

“Y/n, there is not one place in the world I wouldn’t go with you”

You let your hair form a curtain to hide your blush, clearing your throat awkwardly and stepping in his car. His car smelled like his cologne, the heady scent sticking to your clammy skin. You went for the radio, soft country music running in the background.

“So, what are you doing this weekend?” Chris asked.

“I live a boring life man. I’m probably gonna clean my shit and stock my kitchen with as much instant food as I can.”

“Well, if you want, we can go somewhere. Make your boring weekend interesting.” Chris suggested, glancing at you as he maneuvered around the traffic. You fidgeted, playing with your fingers as you avoided his eyes. Saying no to him was getting difficult every time. You wished the radio was turned up louder so this conversation could be avoided.

“Oh, you know me. I like to lay in, be a lazy girl.” You tried to say nonchalantly, and Chris’s hands clenched around the wheel. You stared out the window, watching the city breeze past as things got awkward inside. You didn’t speak until he pulled up in front of your home, and you reached for the door before the car even stopped, a farewell on your tongue when you were pulled back by the seatbelt.

You blushed, hands frantically trying to undo the clasp and Chris’s hands covered yours, releasing you. You breathed deeply as he was leaning into you, face just a few inches away. You could count his lashes this close, see the exact shape of that mole on his cheek and feel his breath on you. You pulled back, quickly opening the door and almost stepping out before you were pulled back again, this time by Chris’s hand grabbing your upper arm. He tugged you back into your seat and came close enough to touch your nose with his.

“You know you can’t keep blowing me off,” He muttered. His hand tucked your hair behind your ear, blue eyes intently looking in yours. “I can’t take your no because I know you don’t mean it. Why do you keep running away?”

You gulped uneasily, wiggling out of his grip and getting out of the car. He was still looking at you, waiting for an answer. You shook your head slightly, feet kicking the ground at your feet.

“Thank you for the ride Chris. Drive safe.”

The door swung shut behind you and you walked away without another look, hiding away inside your home and trying to calm your beating heart.

+++++

You remembered disabling your alarm last night, so what the hell was that awful noise. Burrowing your head in your pillow, you tried to go back to sleep until the pounding continued. You growled, ready to rip out a new one to whoever was stupid enough to disturb your sleep. Uncaring of your attire, the t-shirt barely reaching midthigh over your panties you marched to your door, a scowl on your face.

You ripped open your door, already mid-triad before noticing who it was.

“Look, you need to shut the hell up. I work 14 hours a day, barely eat and sleep and you trying to break my door down is not –”

Chris smiled at you, amusement glittering in his eyes which raked over your bare legs. Your mouth parted for an embarrassingly long amount of time before you remembered you bed hair, morning breath (more like mourning breath) and the ratty t-shirt with holes. You pulled down on the hem, aware that you weren’t wearing a bra and it was too late to hide.

“What the hell are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” You asked Chris and he held up his hands to show he had food.

“Ungodly? Its 10 am miss, and your loyal subject is here to feed you.”

He moved past you into your house without invite, putting down the paper bag which had grease stains on it. Despite your shock and anger, your stomach grumbled, and you shut the door behind you. You rolled your eyes at his cheek, but that stuff looked too tempting to say no to.

“Since you’ve decided to intrude on my morning, make yourself useful and put on some coffee. I’m gonna change” You said and walked towards your bedroom.

“Like the way you look!” Chris shouted from behind you and you flipped him off without looking, ignoring his chuckle.

Why the hell was he here? After the way you guys had left things last night, you would have thought he would be too pissed to talk to you. You sighed as you pulled on a bra and something other than a 10-year-old t-shirt. You found him setting the table, laying down breakfast as the smell of coffee filled the kitchen. He smiled when he saw you had pulled your hair into a messy bun and winked at you.

“Here, larger portion for you.” He said handing you a plate of your favorite food. You took it, feeling like a guest in your own home as he served and poured you a mug of coffee, made perfectly as you like it. You both ate in silence for a while, the sound of cutlery the only thing to be heard. Finally, you pinned him with a stare, pushing away your plate.

“Chris, what are you doing here? Seriously.”

He chewed the morsel in his mouth before leaning his hands on the table and clasping his hands. It felt like an interview and you wished you had something better on, like an armor, to deal with whatever he was going to say.

“Well, if you want an honest answer here, I’d say I am here because I wanted to see you. I didn’t want you having some instant meal for the 10th time this week, so I got you some breakfast.”

You looked away from him, chewing on your lip. You wished he wouldn’t be so sweet. If he were a sleazy bastard, saying no to him would be so easy. Yet, here he was getting you food and being all domestic, making your life more difficult.

“Look, I appreciate this but I – Chris, we can’t happen. You need to stop this.”

It seemed like he was contemplating you, trying to guess what went on in that head of yours. He reached across to take your hand in his, lacing your fingers and stroked.

“I can’t stop. I tried, trust me I did. I can’t. I see you on the set and I want to whisk you away in the vanity away from prying eyes. I see you anywhere at all, with any other man I want to punch his face. Y/n don’t tell me I am imagining things. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You want me too, don’t you?”

The chair made a screeching noise as you snatched your hand away from his and got up, pacing the room. You were shaking your head, trying to think of a way to make him understand.

“Chris, we won’t work, you and me.”

“Why the fuck not? How can you even know if you won’t give us a chance? And I am the one who’s supposed to have fucking commitment issues.”

You wrung your hands, sitting in front of him again. He looked angry and frustrated, not knowing how much you wanted to say yes. But you knew in your heart of hearts that a very basic thing will never let you be.

“I won’t give it a chance because we’re different. We like different things, and well, sometimes they can be too much to compromise.”

“Like what, huh?”

You looked down in your lap, playing with the lint that stuck to your leggings. It was an embarrassing thing to admit, but you knew it would hold a lot of importance to this relationship. Taking a sharp breath, you told him the truth.

“I don’t like dogs. In fact, they terrify me.”

Chris lurched back as if it was the last thing he expected to come from you. He probably expected some tale of family drama or relationship trauma, but your reasons were simpler. You had cynophobia, the fear of dogs. You couldn’t be in the same room with them without getting shit scared. Chris blinked at you, like it was the dumbest thing you could have said.

“Excuse me? You refuse to go out with me because you don’t like dogs?”

You gave him a critical look, raising a brow.

“Have you seen your social media accounts? You love Dodger probably more than you love any human being. You’re a self-proclaimed ‘huge dog guy’. And me…I can’t be in the same room with one. We won’t work out Chris, and I would rather save myself the heartbreak.”

This was clearly not something Chris was prepared for. He looked baffled, not knowing what to say. You wished it were a small thing, but it wasn’t. Everyone who knew Chris could tell how much he loved dogs. His Instagram page was basically a Dodger fan page. He had the name tattooed on his body. You could never work out simply because Chris would always be choosing between you and his doggo, and you would be too busy being scared of him to enjoy your time with Chris.

He released a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

“We’ll make it happen. A lot of people fear things, and they get over it. It can work out. When you meet Dodger, you’ll forget you’d ever been scared of a dog. He’s a good boy, trust me.”

“Chris” You said shaking your head, “You don’t understand. I like dogs but only from afar. They terrify the living daylights out of me. I just – why don’t you understand? This is already so embarrassing”

He got up and sat next to you, his hand on your shoulder. “Look, just give me one chance. I know we can be great, okay? One chance is all I am asking. If it gets too much, we end it. I promise, it will be like nothing ever happened.”

You didn’t want to believe him. You shouldn’t have, but he was the man you’d been crushing on for nearly a year now. He was smart and kind and funny, he worked for the good causes and god he was such a treat to look at. You should have said no, had your coffee and left it at that. But there was only so many times you can say no to Chris Evans, especially when he’s pursuing you like the proverbial hound of hell.

“One chance Chris.”

+++++

This was a bad idea and you were regretting it already. You were practically hiding behind Chris, bunching his shirt under both hands as your head peeked over his large body. You were not ready to meet Dodger, at least not without a bomb suit.

“Hey, relax, he’s a right love. I’ve been showing him your pictures on my phone and he loves you already.” Chris tried to placate you and you replied with a pathetic whimper.

The door had barely opened before the golden brown doggo ran towards you and you squeaked. He bounded on Chris and you, Chris laughing and rubbing him behind the ear while you backed away. Dodger kept trying to come towards you and Chris had to hold him back by the collar while offering you a hand.

“Come on Y/n, he doesn’t bite. He’s a cutie.” Chris called but you shook your head, your knees vibrating. You edged away, taking deep gulps of breath as fear overtook you. It was pathetic really how scared you were since Dodger wasn’t even a huge dog, but it still took every last bit of your willpower to not just run away.

“Chris I can’t. Please.” You begged and he must have heard the fear in your voice. He pulled Dodger inside the house, the barks getting fainter as they moved in and you stayed frozen in your track. He came out after a couple minutes and immediately took your shoulders, rubbing softly.

“Hey, hey look at me. He’s inside now, okay?”

You nodded and buried your head in his chest, feeling more embarrassed than ever. Chris hugged you, shushing you gently.

“I am so sorry Chris, I just can’t. I told you this won’t work” You said, and Chris pulled away to look in your eyes. His blue eyes were determined as they stared in yours and you blinked up at him with watery eyes.

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have sprung this up on you like this. We’ll start small, okay?” He urged and you bit your lip, uncertain. Chris rubbed his nose to yours, pressing a kiss on your lips and both your cheeks. “Please Y/n, just give me more time. We’ll work it out.”

You wanted it to work out too. The dates you had gone on had been nothing short of amazing. When you were with Chris you laughed like never before, the conversation so unrestrained. You didn’t worry about hiding your flaws, feeling so comfortable in his company. And then there was the sex. It was so good. In fact, it was spectacular.

“I don’t know how we’ll make it work.” You admitted softly and Chris smiled at you, cupping your face in his huge hands.

“We’ll do it together baby. Don’t give up on us just yet please.” You pressed your forehead to his and breathed in his scent, letting it wash over you. Nodding your affirmation, you let him lead you inside his house, Dodger locked inside the bedroom.

“I feel terrible for locking him in.” You said and you did. Just because dogs scare you doesn’t mean you hate them. You just feared going near them. You watched those cute puppy videos on YouTube to help relax yourself, only you didn’t want any dogs around you.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s with his stuffed lion.”

You cuddled on the couch, watching some 90s movie and you wished with everything that this would somehow work out.

+++++

It took you a while to decide if this was heaven or hell. You were awing and yelping simultaneously, and Chris laughed from behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist. Nuzzling his nose in your neck, he bit your ear softly uncaring of the people around you.

“Oh my god” You must have said this a dozen times already, but you were simply in awe. When Chris said you’ll start small you didn’t think he meant literally. In front of you were some of the cutest, softest, smallest puppies and you finally decided this was heaven.

“I figured we’ll begin from the beginning. Go up slowly, get you used to being around canines.” He bit you again as he said that and you giggled. Turning your head, you captured his lips in an elated kiss, touched that he was going to go through this with you.

“This is amazing.” You said and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. He led you to the corner where a small black puppy with spots on his toes was wagging his tail at you. You awed, not afraid of him in the least.

“You wanna tell me about your phobia a little?” Chris asked as you cradled the pup in the crook of your elbow, the little darling loving your finger running over his small belly.

“It’s kinda silly but when I was four, I was chased by my neighbor’s dog. I ran like hell and it almost bit me before they got it back in control. I’ve feared them ever since.”

Chris hummed, kissing the pup in his own hands and giving you a soft smile.

“This helps?”

“This helps.” You agreed.

Chris and you must have petted a dozen puppies, holding them in your hands, cooing to them and kissing their small noses. You clicked pictures and fed them from your hands, a cacophony of kissy noises and good boys flowing from you both.

“I’m gonna have to hide these pics or Dodger is gonna get jealous.” Chris said and you snorted, snuggling into his side. It was a beautiful day at the shelter, and you were surprised at how fun it was. Tired as you were, you were also acutely aware of Chris’s hand creeping up your thigh in the car. You looked out the window, suppressing your smile.

“So, we made some progress today” He said, and you hummed. “And you had a lot of fun” You hummed again.

Chris pulled you to him roughly by your collar, his tongue poking out to just lick at your bottom lip.

“I think I deserve a reward…” He trailed off and you finally let a smile spread on your lips.

“I think you do Mr. Evans” You agreed and pressed your lips over his, hoping the driver will overlook the noises in the back.

+++++

Baby steps worked, and over the course of the next few weeks you got more comfortable around dogs. You spent a lot of time with pups of all breeds, slowly moving on to the bigger dogs. It wasn’t all easy, few visits ended in tears and hopelessness, but Chris stayed by your side. He let you set the pace, accompanying you every time and praising you for every obstacle you crossed. He didn’t mind spending most of the time at your place and waved off your apologies about Dodger.

“We’re doing this for him too, so he can get to know you better. It’s okay with me.” He assured you after a passionate round of love making. You traced Dodger’s name on his bare chest, finger roving over the other scattered tattoos. He loved it when you traced them with your tongue and bit his nipples.

“I think I’d like to try another visit with him.” You finally admitted, peeking up at him from under your lashes. Chris grinned, pulling you closer.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.”

“I think I’m ready Chris. I want to meet the good boy who’s sharing your heart with me.”

Rolling over you, Chris pressed kisses over your collar bones and chest, hands squeezing your curves. Your lips mashed together in a sloppy kiss and you felt him smile against you.

“There is no one else I’d rather give my heart to other than you and him.”

+++++

This time when the door opened you were not hiding behind Chris. You held a soft chew toy in your hand, a gift and an apology. Dodger ran towards Chris, tail wagging aggressively as he licked and nipped at every exposed bit of skin he could find. Chris giggled as he rubbed and scratched his baby, and you were very proud of not making any distressed sound or running away. When Dodger finally turned to you, you tentatively came towards him with the toy.

“Hello Dodger, you sweet sweet boy.” You greeted. You’d been with dogs almost as big as him now and felt little apprehension touching his soft coat. He whined under your touch, leaning into you and rubbing against your legs. Chris joined you, his hand finding yours in Dodger’s fur.

“Look buddy, mummy is ready to meet you. You like her, eh?”

Dodger barked in agreement, rolling over for belly rubs while you stared at Chris coyly.

“Mummy eh?” You teased and Chris blushed, kissing you softly.

“Well, only if you’ll have Dodger’s dad.” He said.

You playfully sat down on the floor, letting the cutie climb on your lap and scratching behind his ears that made him purr in satisfaction.

“What do you say Dodge, should I take him?” You asked and he wagged his tail, rolling around in your lap. You gazed lovingly at Chris, softly touching his bearded face.

“Well, only because Dodger says so.”

+++++

Taglist:

@shooting-star-love @what-is-your-wish @stanmysoul @littlegasps @bluemusickid @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel

[redhawtriot]

Caught in the Act (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

So… this is technically like half of the request but I had way too many ideas for this (and its already long as hell. oops). I’m only doing one Bakugou cheating scenario on this page so go big or go home, right?

I also saw that this blog  that I made like two weeks ago has like 100 of you guys following it wtf?! So to celebrate, I’m making my first actual series an interactive one! The following chapters will be very short (besides this one, she thicc), but each will have a question at the end that will determine the events of the next chapter! I made an account on OpinionStage where you guys can vote on through Tumblr, so hopefully at least one of you is excited.

Part two (the other half of this request) is where this fun will begin, so stay whelmed.

Fuck this site for making me repost this :)

Love you guys

HnM💕

Warning: Don’t read this to your fucking kids

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Essentially, your girls night for the week had been, in lack of better words, a shit show.

The brisk, fall air pierced your skin, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth. You didn’t even want to touch your sticky filth.

You just wanted to run home to your Bakugou– he was all the warmth that you needed and more. More than anything, you wanted to forget about the foul man that had assaulted you at your now ex-favorite club.

A frown momentarily sneaked its way onto your face to corrupt the brave expression you had held in front of your girlfriends,

“Hey” you had raised your hands to halt your friend, “Don’t do something ridiculous! I promise I’m alright, Jirou!” You had begged her when she had prepared to fight the man as he grabbed your arms. You had already politely asked him to back away from you after he tried to grind himself against you. He called it dancing—you called it sexual harassment.

The nightclub security had already been watching this man and immediately closed in on him to escort him out of the club as soon as he moved in towards you. But it must not have been fast enough.

Everything happened so rapidly that you could barely blink in time before you were drenched in a sticky liquid. Still, you kept a calm expression on your face. Your friends’ careers as heroes depended on how calmly you acted,

“No, it’s okay! I needed to head home anyway!” you had argued with your girls after the man had thrown his drink at you. You tried to bring a smile onto your face as the slight sting of the alcohol penetrated your eyes, “Bakugou will pick me up,” you blinked heavily.

Of course he wouldn’t pick you up in front of the club.

No, that would just be a disaster waiting to happen.

He would more than likely blow the entire place up once he found out what had transpired.

However, after the fourth failed attempt at calling Bakugou, you had given up. It was honestly a stretch anyway. He barely made it past nine o’ clock most nights, and it was well on its way to midnight. You could see your breath as you gave off a heavy sigh, but you never faltered in your steps.

You just wanted to go home to your man, clean your pathetic ass in a hot shower, and forget other men existed in this world.

You groaned to yourself as you remembered how late your guys’ roommate, Kirishima, would stay up in the front living room playing video games—the same front living room you would have to sneak past to make your way to the sanctuary of your shower.  

You opened the front door as quietly as you could and prodded your, matted, liquor-contaminated head into the threshold of your home. You probably looked like a wild animal as you scrunched your eyebrows and stared at the dark living room for a while before finally building up the courage to tiptoe towards your bathroom.

You didn’t even want to go to your room in fear of interrogation from a very sleepy, very pissed off Bakugou.

Better not poke the bear. Better just wash the stink and sins away and keep it moving like nothing had happened.

Kirishima not being awake on his Xbox for once was a blessing on a normal day, but today it was truly god sent. Hell, even Bakugou not being able to pick you up might have been a blessing in disguise—or so you thought.

As soon as you turned your shower off you heard it– a steady, creaking noise.

“What the fuck?” you whispered to yourself as your face crinkled upwards in disgust. Kirishima hardly ever brought girls home, and when he did, he was as quiet as a mouse with them. In fact, you hardly even knew the women were there until the next morning when they awkwardly wobbled out of the apartment with their heads tucked down.

The pace of the creaking sped up and the smack of the headboard joined in a repetitive thudding, causing you to freeze in place.  Breathless feminine moans joined the little musical number in increasing volume for short while before they became more ‘shrieky’ in nature.

A grimace fell upon your expression, “What the fuck?” you once again mouthed. You quickly snatched your towel and wrapped it around you with haste as you tried to run from the unholy concerto that was being orchestrated in your room.

Wait.

Your room?

Your room was the room that was connected to the bathroom walls—not Kiri’s.

It was in that moment of realization that you heard the moans return, this time a gruff male voice joined the duet,

“Shit!” The moan was drawn out until it faded into a heavy, guttural groan.

You paused again as your heart dropped deeply into your chest. You stretched your hearing and waited for his voice to appear again over her constant whines, “Just like that, baby,” his voice reemerged as he groaned deeply. Your heart harshly reminded you of its existence as it lurched suddenly.

That sounded like Bakugou.

But it had to be a mistake. You rehearsed this thought repeatedly as you sped to your room as quietly as you could—your mind racing even faster than your legs. Your Bakugou was sound asleep in his bed like he was this time of night every night. He was sound asleep and stretched out on his side of the bed with the lights off and with a sock thrown over the flashing light of his work desk computer—he hated that light at night.

You faltered as your hand stuttered uncontrollably toward your door handle. Bakugou’s never even looked at another woman before. It took him years to throw even you, his current fiancé, a second glance. He would never in a million years be on the other side of this door with another woman making those ungodly sounds.

Sounds you hadn’t heard in months.

It had to be Kirishima you tried to convince yourself as you gently twisted the door handle, ‘Please god, he just went into the wrong room,’ you prayed as you threw the door open.

Every single muscle in your body froze as you ingested the sight in front of you—your heart included.

You caught the tail end of their act, and you could only watch in complete disgust as the muscles of your beloved’s back violently contracted in sweat glistened pulses.

The woman made horrified eye contact with you as she was being pinned against your grandmother’s dresser, yet she couldn’t fight the last moan that ripped itself from her, her legs spasming as Bakugou’s flesh smacked into hers for a final time.

He desperately pressed himself into her like he was trying to become her, “Fuck,” he groaned into her neck. You noticed his nails dig deeply into her raised wrists as his hips rashly stuttered to a stop, “Don’t clench around me like that, babe. Relax.” His shaky breath demanded.

The woman looked far from relaxed, “H-Hey!” she anxiously tapped his shoulder, trying to warn him of their impending doom. Her wide eyes were still fixated on your ever-growing livid ones.

“BAKUGOU!” You screeched. The relaxed emotion that you had so desperately tried to keep plastered onto your face that night completely shattered as you angrily marched up to him and snatched the back of his hair, “You bastard!!”

As you yanked downward, he surprisingly fell to the ground, disconnecting with the other slut on trial as they both flew to the ground.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he yelled as his body heavily thudded into the ground.

“That’s my line, you fucking jackass!” you felt your voice crack. Everything hurt. There was pressure in the back of your eyes, the front of your chest, your legs, your throat, your toes, your everything. Everything in your body felt weak under your boiling blood as if you were about to explode.

“Y-Y/N…?” you saw his trademark pissed off expression drop to an unfamiliar one as his eyes finally adjust to you in the darkness of the room. It must have resided in an area between fear and sadness.

You fought the unruly emotions that threatened to take control over your body as you clenched your fist.

Fuck him. He doesn’t get to be sad.

“What?? Were you expecting someone else!?” you spat as you roughly kicked one of his nearby feet, “You probably were expecting more company, you whore,”

No response.

You dug your nails deep into the palm of your hands as if it would somehow release the excruciating pressure that you were feeling.

The woman’s meek voice suddenly broke the extreme silence you all shared, “I-I’m gonna g—”

“GO!” you angrily whipped yourself around to her before grabbing the nearest item that you could, “You dumb bitch! You’re lucky I don’t fuck you up too!” You threw the item as you cursed, not even bothering to know what it was.

It barely missed the naked girl and loudly shattered against one of your walls as she scurried towards the door. You went to reach for another object from your grandmothers’ dresser, promising that you wouldn’t miss this time, but you froze as you found yourself in the mirror connected to the dresser.

You hadn’t realized in your rage that you were crying until you saw your tear-soaked face in the dark reflection. You tried so hard to keep yourself together. You prided yourself on being level-headed in stressful situations, but you were far from level-headed. You were conceited to ever even try to take on that persona.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you could only lament about how pathetic you looked—how pathetic you were.

“I…I’m such an idiot!” you painfully gripped at your hair as you fell into your knees in front of the man you loved. Heavy sobs tore themselves free of your burning throat. You heaved yourself forward into your lap in a failed attempted to catch them, but it was too late.

“I don’t… know what to say.” Bakugou finally spoke up, his face completely flipped upside down from its usual tenseness.

Of course.

Out of all of the times you wanted this loud-mouthed jerk to shut up, now is when he is at a loss for words.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that fell from your lips.

“I don’t see what’s so fucking funny?” he angrily retorted, as he stumbled to make his way up. You were suddenly met with his member being swung at your eye level as you stayed crouched onto the ground. That’s when you noticed–

He didn’t even have a condom on.

He made you get tested for STDs and pregnancy before he even had sex with you with a condom.

“I don’t know where that thing has been,” He had said then. It wouldn’t be until months later when you had started birth control when he had finally decided to risk sex without latex protection. The memory jolted an unexpected emotion from you as your chest bobbed from an oncoming laugh.

“G-get out.” You laughed again, tears still steadily falling from your face. You probably looked absolutely psychotic right now, but it was like all of the emotions that you had been stifling all these years had resurfaced with a vengeance. You struggled to drag yourself to stand so that you wouldn’t have to look at his still wet dick.

You continued to laugh and cry as Bakugou stared at you, his expression becoming disgruntled from the disturbing sight,

“What the fuck is wrong wi—”

“Get. OUT!!” you angrily interrupted him as you roared into his face. He blinked spastically in response as the shock of the altercation finally began to sink into his decelerated mind.

‘F-fuck,’

His heart sank, ‘What did I just do?’ He racked his brain as he tried to remember all of the events that had taken place to lead him to this moment, but the world seemed to be spinning ferociously, shaking up and mixing the timeline of the night.

He was plucked from his thoughts as he caught a glimpse of your face in the darkness of the room.

Why were you looking at him like you hated his existence—like if you could disintegrate his body with your eyes, you would. For the first time in years, Bakugou felt hot tears tingle against the back of his eyes, “Y/N, I…” his voice became stuck in his chest as his heart gave sudden jolt, “I’m so s–”

His chest became tight as you whipped away from him and silently threw a pointed finger towards the door.

He stumbled back a few feet as if you had just thrown a physical attack his way.

After a few moments of watching you hold the same position, he noticed you had started to cry again as your rocking shoulders lurched forward.

His face fell even further into the expression of despair before he froze. He could fix this if you would just let him, dammit!

He growled in annoyance at your ignoring him before he finally thawed his body, “FINE!” he yelled at you before smacking your pointed hand out to the way so that he could stagger out of the room. He loudly slammed the door shut, leaving you alone with your deafening thoughts.

You immediately dropped back to the ground before you curled yourself up into a ball and released painful sobs.

You had absolutely no fear that he would catch you in this state. His pride would never allow him to come back after storming out like that.

However on the other side of the door, Bakugou had already turned back around. Instant guilt had created a cacophony of loud feelings in his mind. How could he have hurt you like that?

The thought caused his heart to thrum and his hands to flinch away from the door handle; however, he strengthened his resolve and firmly grasped the handle once more until suddenly–

“BAKU-BROOOOO!” Kirishima’s booming voice could be heard moments before the front door was slammed open and bounced against your living room wall, “Ya made it back alive, man! We were all worried about you after you disappeared…” he slurred as he fumbled over to his best friend like a toddler taking his first steps.

Bakugou couldn’t find it in himself to reply to the redhead as the latter threw himself at him with a hearty laugh. The laugh, however, came to an abrupt end as Kirishima stared blankly at Bakugous face, “Hey… wha’s wrong, best buddy? Holy hell, w-why are you crying?!” he loudly whispered. A loud rumble could be heard before Kirishima violently gagged, releasing the contents of his stomach.

[icemankazansky86]

Well, here it finally is! My ‘Lost Boys’ winter ficlet! Hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think!

December 17th, 1987

“Really, Mrs. Emerson, I don’t really think—“

“David, how many times have I told you, call me Lucy.” The Emerson matriarch counters softly, offering a smile that could rival the softness of pillowy cotton candy.

“Lucy,” David corrects, shuffling alongside the mousy woman, his gloved hands stuffed into his coat pockets. He clears his throat gruffly, nuzzling the lower half of his face down into the thick woollen scarf wrapped around his neck. “-‘You sure this is a good idea? I don’t—“

“Oh, don’t be silly!” Lucy exclaims in surprise, casting an apalled glance at the vampire as she wraps her arms around her chest to block out the cold. “Michael and Sam won’t mind in the slightest! Dad either!” She reassures. “Besides, you’re a part of the family!”

David opens and closes his mouth beneath the toasty barrier of fluffy knitted wool tugged up past his nose. He’s not sure what to say to that.

The snow crunches and squeaks underneath his boots as he continues alongside Lucy like some lost puppy. Ice crystals cling to his spurs.

“I’m glad I kept Michael’s old skates.” She says after a moment, peeking at the scuffed black figure skates hanging over David’s shoulders via the laces, which are tied together. The silver blades, though a little scraped, glint with the reflection of the glittering snow.

David nods slowly. “Yeah, I guess so...” He’s not too sure what else to say to that, after all, it was really more of a statement than anything else.

Behind them, Thorn and Nanook pounce and roughhouse with one another, rolling around in the chilly diamond blanket covering the earth.

David puffs out a short breath, ducking further down into the knitted woollen fabric bunched up around his neck like a bashful turtle. At this point he can no longer feel the tips of his ears. He’d blatantly refused to wear a hat.

Lucy laughs softly as she adjusts her own hat. “You know, I didn’t think vampires got cold...”

David shrugs his shoulders. “All that stuff in the movies and on TV about us,” He drawls, raising his eyebrows. “Most of it’s bullshit. Don’t gotta be alive to get cold.”

“Oh, hm.” Lucy hums lightly, nodding her head thoughtfully. “I suppose a lot of those, I don’t know, stereotypes are a bit silly.” She admits.

“Oh, we’re here!” She says cheerily, gesturing to the frozen pond in the distance. Michael and Sam linger on the glittering banks, decked out in their winter apparel. Sam stands out against the stark winter landscape like a neon beacon.

David supposes that he’s not any less obvious against the snow, what with his all-black attire.

The eldest of the Emerson’s, a man who David has simply come to know as “Grandpa”, stands beside a denuded tree whose limbs hang heavy with the hefty weight of the ice and snow.

“Ah,” Grandpa exhales, his breath clouding in front of his rosy face like little puffs of dragon’s smoke. “You finally made it! ‘Was starting to think you two weren’t gonna show!”

Lucy’s face lights up. “Oh, dad!” She swats at the air in playful dismissiveness as she shuffles forward and envelopes the old man into a warm hug that must feel like marshmallow fluff.

Grandpa chuckles heartily and pats Lucy on the back before transitioning his attention to David. “You’re looking a little frosty there, sonny...”

The vampire pokes his curiously rosy nose out from beneath the barrier of thick wool wrapped around his neck and blows out a puff of air.

The eccentric old-timer chuckles quietly and shakes his head. He nods to the icebound pond behind him with subtle amusement. A screech— no doubt arising from Sam— echoes throughout the pines, startling the birds. A heavy ‘thud’ immediately follows, bringing a wry simper to David’s face.

Grandpa shakes his head with an amused sigh. “Hopefully you’re better at this skating business than Sam is.” He glances over his shoulder.

David scoffs and settles down atop a somber tree stump to pull on his skates. He tugs his boots off and drops them into the heavensent powder beside him, his spurs clinking and the snow crunching.

Thorn plods through the winter mess, mowing a path like some furry bulldozer. He wags his tail back and forth, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, as he comes to stand beside David, who is just finishing lacing up his skates.

Michael glides to a stop beside the bank, the blades of his skates sending up a fine fan of ice shavings. “Didn’t think you’d actually skate.” He comments, stuffing his gloved hands into his jacket pockets.

“What can I say, Michael? I’m full of surprises.” David replies mischievously.

Michael huffs in amusement and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure you are.”

David frowns and leans down to brush a patch of slushy snow off of one of his skates’ blades.

“You gonna skate, or what?” Michael asks, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. And then, “...Or is the big bad vampire scared?”

“I’m not scared.” David snaps back, his tone of voice mirroring that of a whining child whose been told to eat their vegetables. He huffs.

“Well, come on then, dude.” Michael nods back towards the pond, the left corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

David mutters something that sounds vaguely like, “fuck you” before stalking past Michael, whose face must be starting to hurt by now with how much he’s grinning.

“Ah,” The brunette shakes his head. “C’mon, sourpuss...” He trails after the blond and throws an arm around his shoulders before steering him towards that damn pond.

David stabs at the ground with the toe-pick of one of his skates. “Fine.” He relents.

“Hey, Mike! Look!” Sam’s voice soars through the nippy air like a Sabrejet. Michael turns just as his overly enthusiastic brother is making an attempt at balancing on one skate. It ends with a heavy thud and a screech so ungodly that it could probably curdle milk.

David’s eyebrows shoot up towards the sky, his face remains impassive. Michael just sighs and shakes his head, muttering an amused, “God,” under his breath.

“C’mon...” Michael nods his head, a glint in his eye, and curls his fingers around the vampire’s forearm. He stops a step before the earth gives way to ice and looks at David, whose eyebrows shoot up in question. “What?”

“What d’you mean “what?” Michael counters and then after a beat, “Are you gonna skate or what?”

The vampire frowns and sighs before sweeping an arm throughout the air and saying with a sly grin, “by all means, dust before the broom.”

“Hey, fuck you, man.” The brunette laughs.

An impish smirk spreads across David’s face. He leans towards Michael and throws an arm across his shoulders. “Promise?” He drawls lowly, his breath ghosting against Michael’s ear.

The brunette’s face goes beet red. He elbows David in the gut, but he just laughs. “Ah, c’mon, Michael...” He flashes his brows suggestively.

Michael clears his throat awkwardly. “You’re such an ass, man.” David makes an unbothered ‘hmph’ noise in the back of his throat and shrugs his shoulders. He raises his hands up in mock surrender, watching smugly as Michael steps out onto the ice.

David lingers on the bank awhile before biting the metaphysical bullet and taking to the ice. He takes an experimental stride, pushing off with his left leg. His toe-pick catches a divet in the ice and before he has the chance to right himself, he’s on his ass. “Agh!”

Michael cringes at the impact. He offers his hand out to David, but he swats it away like a temperamental house cat.

The blond picks himself up off of the slick ice with a huff, grumbling in frustration as he tries to regain his balance.

“You okay?” Michael asks after a couple of seconds. “Been awhile, huh?” He muses.

David shoots daggers at him, and then, “47 years.”

Michael raises his eyebrows. “Oh.” He looks down at his skates. “You, uh, you need help?”

The vampire gawks and scrunches up his face as if he’s tasted something rotten. “No.”

Sam lounges atop an upside down bucket, kicking up pockets of diamond fluff while Nanook rolls around him without a care in the world. “Gee, Nanook!” He exclaims in amusement, his cheeks nearly splitting from how much he’s smiling.

“Woah! Whoa-“ Michael’s arms shoot out as David’s equilibrium wavers and he braces his gloved hands against the fronts of the vampire’s tense shoulders. Unconsciously, David’s arms extend to grasp at the brunettes sleeves.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Michael chuckles, an action to which he receives a sharp glare from the frazzled vampire. He sighs. “Fine.”

“Okay,” Michael glances down at the blond’s skates. “Widen your stance a little, and bend your knees.” He nods. “Yeah, like that.”

David looks down at his feet, lingering for a moment, and then back up again. “Okay, now what?” Michael grins at his eagerness before responding, “Now push off with your left leg.”

The blond blows out a puff of air and pushes off, his hands gripping tight at Michael’s jacket sleeves.

“Yeah, that’s it, dude!” Sam exclaims from the bank, his entire face as red as a fresh strawberry due to the biting cold.

If it weren’t for his concentration on not falling, he’d have scowled at the over enthusiastic little shit.

David takes another cautious stride, this one slightly wider than the last. He grasps at Michael’s sleeve with an iron grip. Michael chuckles. “Take it easy, man. You’re doing good.”

The blond swallows and nods his head. “...Okay.”

“So, you wanna try to skate without me?” Michael asks after a couple seconds, looking David in the eye. A beat passes where nothing but the whistle of the wind through the scraggly tree limbs can be heard.

“Uh,” The vampire shrugs his shoulders in what could be perceived as an attempt at nonchalance. “Yeah, yeah, sure.” He glances down at his his gloved hands which are curled around Michael’s firm biceps before pushing himself away.

He glides backwards slowly, his arms out at his sides as if he’s going through airport security. He glances down at his skates and carefully nudges the toe-pick of his right skate into the ice.

“See, man!” Michael blurts out, clapping his hands together. “Not so hard, is it?” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and glides over. “You think you got it from here?”

David narrows his eyes and frowns. “Y’know, I think I can manage, yeah.” He snarks.

“Alright then, tough guy, let’s see what you’ve got.” Michael retorts humorously.

David’s brows shoot up towards the monochromatic heavens at the challenge, and he smirks. “Whatever you say, Michael.” The vampire turns and pivots surprisingly well for having looked like a wobbling newborn fawn minutes earlier.

Michael makes a surprised ‘hmph’ noise in the back of his throat. “Not bad... You sure you didn’t already secretly know how to skate?” He asks.

The blond shrugs his shoulders impishly. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Michael chuckles and shakes his head, before sighing comically. “Don’t know what I expected...”

David quirks a brow. “Like I said, Michael, I’m full of surprises.”

The brunette rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, c’mon, “Scott Hamilton”...” He waves his arm in a “come here” way, motioning the vampire over.

David drills a small crater into the ice with his toe-pick and snickers. He raises his brows cockily. “Scott Hamilton”, huh?”

Michael rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Alright, whatever. C’mon, man, let’s skate.”

The vampire scoffs softly, before gesturing blithely. “Whatever you say, Michael.” He does a half rotation, hands still in his pockets, before pushing off with his right leg and moving into forward crossovers.

Michael gawks. “You gotta be kidding me—“

David casts an amused glance over his shoulder. “You trying to catch flies, Michael?” He asks wryly, gesturing to the brunettes gaping mouth.

Michael snaps his mouth shut. “So, s’there anything else you can do, Mr. cloak-and-dagger?”

“Hm,” The blond hums thoughtfully. “I’m not a one-trick pony, Michael.”

“Well let’s see, then.” Michael encourages him.

The corners of David’s mouth twitch, just a little. He slips his hands out of his pockets and proceeds to glide out to the centre of the frosted pond, where he stops. Before doing anything, he pulls his jacket off and tosses it towards the bank.

Michael quirks a brow, confused by the action. “It’s cold as hell, dude. Why’d you take off your—“

David pushes away from the centre and takes off like a bullet train, gliding forward on his left outside edge and lifting his right knee upwards, before leaving the ice for two full rotations and landing back on his right foot.

Sam, who lingers on the right bank nursing a mug of hot chocolate, sputters.

Michael doesn’t fare any different. “What the hell was that?” His mouth hangs open. “How the hell’d you—?”

David’s cool façade cracks and he chuckles. His hair is windswept. “Well, to answer your first question, that was a double axel. And to answer the second, I’ve been around for a while, Michael. You know what they say, “practice makes perfect.”

“I can’t believe you actually got me to think you were totally helpless.” The brunette comments. “Shit, now I’m the amateur.”

“Well...” David drawls. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to be close to you, huh?”

Michael scoffs. “You know, you could’ve just asked.”

David smirks. “What would be the fun in that?”

[fanfictionera]

Veterans Home (SteveRogersxReader)

A/N: For whatever reason, this one shot would not stop floating around my head. Just a cute little fluff piece. Enjoy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Synopsis: Living with eleven other people, who you spend the majority of your time with, can get a little overwhelming. So everyone gets personal time within the compound. Whether people use it to workout, site see or just take a nap, it's time that is uninterrupted. Steve has been leaving the compound lately and you become curious as to where he is going. You finally find out.

Word Count: 4180

Warnings: So much fluff and cute Cap. Y/G/P/M- Your Guilty Pleasure Movie

Tag List

Veterans Home

You sat on the couch with Natasha, a bowl of popcorn between the two of you and random stacks of movies scattered around the coffee table in front of you. You had decided to use your free afternoon to watch some favorites. 

Currently you were watching (Y/G/P/M). You let out a small laugh in response to a joke when you heard footsteps enter into the living area.

“Hey, Steve.” You said as you peered around to see him grabbing a gatorade from the fridge.

He turned back around with a smile, “Hey, enjoying your afternoon?”

“Immensely.” You responded as Natasha turned up the volume. “Headed out?”

“I won't be out long,” He came around and stood behind the couch. “I’ll have my phone if you need me but,”

Nat sighed as she cut him off, “Only call if it's an emergency, like someone is dying, aliens are attacking and the fate of the world rests on our shoulders, emergency. Got it.” She didn't look away from the screen. “Now shush it's getting to the good part.”

“I’ll see ya later.” He said a little louder, just to annoy Nat. 

You had to hold back your smile as you saw Nat’s eyes squint slightly and you could tell she was contemplating murder. “See ya.” You waved as he walked out of the room. “Where do you think he goes?”

Nat was silent.

“Oh come on, you’ve seen this a million times.” You laugh as you throw a pillow at her head. 

She caught it. “He used to go see Peggy and after her passing he stayed in for a while, but now I don't know. Guess that's why it's HIS personal time.”

“Stop. Where can he even go where he’s not bombarded by the press or fans?” You question. “Do you think it's a girl?”

Nat instantly paused the movie. “It would be a very Steve thing to do.”

“Not bring her back here, as to not overwhelm her.” You continued. “Could it be a newer thing?”

“Or a not even a thing but he wants it to be a thing, thing.” Nat’s eyebrows slowly scrunched as she spoke.

You took a moment to go back over her sentence. “A crush?” 

“Oh no,” Nat picked back up the remote. “Is that jealousy I hear.”

You took the remote from her hands. "Nope." 

"Uh-uh." Nat said with a grin as you pushed play. 

You could see Nat looking at you in your peripherals. "You can side eye me all you want Romanoff. Steve's a big boy and if he wants something to do with me he can decide that."

"You're a big girl too ya know." Nat responded.  "I'll put twenty bucks on you.""I'm not, fine I'll take that bet." You brought your hands up to a lazy high five before the two of you settled back into your day off without another word spoken about the situation. 

…............................................................................................................................

You sat at the breakfast bar eating some leftover spaghetti. It was just past noon and everyone seemed to be doing their own thing, so you decided to grab some food and catch up on life. You sat with your bowl in front of you, an elbow on the table with your phone propped up in front of your face, your other hand shoveling forkfuls of pasta in your mouth every few minutes.

Steve walked into the kitchen, drawing your attention. You slowly lowered your phone to the counter as he walked to the other side across from you.

“How was your afternoon yesterday?” You asked as he rummaged through the cabinet. 

He turned with a bag of chips in his hand. “It was great.”

“You won't give me anything?” You pushed with a smile. “Just something little, come on.”

He took the chip clip off and tossed it on the counter. “It's called personal time for a reason.”

He leaned back against the counter as he reached into the bag, a defiant smirk plastered on his face.

“Lets see,” You continued after taking another bite. “Are you learning something new and are too embarrassed to share?”

“No.” Steve reached back into the bag, “I'm amazing at everything I do, no need for embarrassment.”

You shook your head, “Oh! Fight Club?” You pretended to get extremely excited.

“Rule number one.” Steve instantly shot back, “Good movie.”

“Trying to change the subject?” He smiled back at you as you sat for a moment silently before an even bigger grin spread across your face. “Does Steve have a girlfriend?”

He laughed, “No, I mean not exactly.”

“Oh!” Your interest peaked instantly. “So there is a girl!” He quickly turned to leave the room. “This isn't over Rogers.” You sing songed after him.

Just before he left the room he turned and shrugged as he popped another chip in his mouth. 

You shook your head with a smirk, “Oh Steve, I’ll get it out of you one of these days.” You finished off your food before heading back to your room.

…............................................................................................................................

Your alarm goes off, pulling you out of the depths of slumber. You roll over onto your back, letting yourself sink back into the mattress. It felt so good to be in your own bed after a long mission. Four days was hardly the longest mission you had gone on but it was long enough. Everybody was ready to fall back into a normal schedule.Which is why you pulled yourself out of bed at some ungodly hour before the sun was even up, to go workout.

You waltzed into the gym as everyone else was trickling in, joking around and stretching as they got ready for the next few hours of torture. 

“Where's Steve?” You asked as you came up to Sam and Bucky. Sam was tying up his shoes next to Bucky who shrugged as he stretched his flesh arm across his chest.

Your jaw practically dropped. “Thee Mr. Steve Rogers is late!?”

“Only by a few minutes, calm down.” You spun around as you heard Steve, he walked up letting his bag drop beside Sam.

“Isn't that like a decade for you?” You couldn't help but poke. “I mean you're getting up their Cap, every minute counts.”

“Go stretch. Now.” Steve pointed towards the sparring mat unamused.

Sam chuckled. “Sounds like someone's in trouble.”

“It's my middle name.” You said over your shoulder as you made your way to the mat. 

Bucky gave Steve a look, “You good?”

“Yeah, just in need of a good workout.” Steve began to stretch, “Too much going on up here.” He tapped his head.

Bucky gave his friend a reassuring smile before joining Sam for their workout. Steve took a swig of water before approaching you on the mats. 

“Okay, stances, let's go.” He nudged your foot.

Standing up you settled into your first defensive stance. “Someone's cranky.”

Steve lunges at you, testing you. With a quick step and jump you dodged out of his way. Swinging your leg back towards Steve, he brought his forearms up to block, you adjusted instantly and pulled your ankle back and dropped your angle connecting your knee with his ribs. 

“I'm not cranky.” He grunted out as you fell back into your second stance. 

You had to keep from smirking. “Could have fooled me.” Steve came low this time. You attempted to dodge out of the way but he clipped your foot, halting your momentum. Quickly you corrected yourself, landing on your hands you pulled your feet over and back down to the floor in a half somersault. “What did you do?”

Your question threw Steve off. 

Taking advantage of the distraction you let out several punches that Steve blocked, “What do you mean what did I do?” He grabbed hold of your arm and spun you around holding you in a choke hold of sorts.

“This girl of yours, you had to have done something.” Your voice was strained as you spoke. You kicked your feet up to get leverage to free your hand. Stepping back you fell into your third stance. “You're out of it Steve. Or lost in it.” You smiled. He let out a defeated sigh, “Seriously, you look like someone died or something. What's up?” 

“What if someone did, Y/N, huh?” Steve's voice almost echoed. “Why do you have to always push? Why can't we just workout.” 

You stood in shock for a moment before realizing Steve was already on the offense. He swung with aggression, his movements out of his usual pattern. You just barely managed to block each one. With each swing he pushed you further back. Just as you reached the edge of the mat you snapped out of it.

You stepped to the inside of his foot, sweeping out making him lose his balance for a moment. In those seconds you went low keeping your head tucked, hoisting him up and over yourself, you made him flip over. Steve let out a slight groan as he landed face down on the hard gym floor.

“Lets fucking go.” You said sternly.

Activities in the gym came to a screeching halt as everyone cautiously watched on, eyeing each other, silently deciding who was going to step in.

You stepped back towards the center, pacing back and forth, “You got something to get out of your system? Then by all means let's get it out of your system.” You pushed again. Knowing deep down Steve was instantly regretting his actions. He didn't break eye contact “No? Then I suggest you check yourself.”

Steve clenched his jaw as he started walking to the door, leaving his bag still on the bench and the workout unfinished. You watched, keeping a stern look but feeling confused inside. Never has Steve talked to you like that, your anxiety instantly pushed its way up through your stomach, did you push him too far? Everyone's eyes were on you before they quietly went back to their workouts. 

You pushed those thoughts to the back of your brain as you walked over to grab your towel, “Hey doll, don't take it too hard.” Bucky said as he held the punching bag for Sam. 

You looked over, “Do you know what's going on with him?”

Bucky shrugged, “Not sure, but do me a favor?” Sam stood up breathing hard, “Let him cool down before you go talk to him.”

“Your middle name is trouble, with a capital T.” Sam shook his head laughing as he switched spots with Bucky. 

“Also.” Bucky punched the the bag twice, “Whatever that was, was impressive, don't let Steve ever forget he was brought down by such a pretty dame.”

Your lips pulled into a smile as a laugh escaped. “Oh, that won't be a problem.” You say as he continues with a satisfied grin. You grabbed your things off the bench and made your way back to your room. 

You walked straight into your bathroom and turned on the water to take a shower. As you stripped off your clothes you threw them onto the trunk at the end of your bed. Being barely worn you decided to wear them tomorrow to workout. Stepping into the shower you felt the hot water begin to cascade down your skin. 

As you continued to wash your hair a knot of guilt began to form in the pit of your stomach. Your brain began to cycle through your fight with Steve, picking apart each second and replaying it over and over in your head. Why didn't you notice his mood change? Or that something was off? Why didn't you just stop and be there for him? Why were you such an idiot?

The thoughts cycled as you rinsed out the last bit of conditioner and all of a sudden you didn't want to be taking a shower anymore. The time it took to turn off the water and pull back the curtain and grab your towel was taking too long. 

Once you had a towel in hand, you quickly began to dry off as you walked out to grab some clothes. You didn't make it to your closet, instead you sat down on your bed and held your head in your hands. You dragged your hands down your face, pulling your skin down. The wave of guilt washed over and drowned you. After several deep breaths you pulled on some clothes and made your way down the hall to Steve's room.

You softly knocked on his door and waited. “Come in!” You heard him say.

You opened the door to find him sitting on his bed with several piles of papers and folders scattered around him.

“Hey,” you say as you walk up to the bed, “Do you ever stop working?”

He picked up a new pile of papers and began to sort, “This is something that needs done, so i'm doing it.”

The tone of his voice made you feel like running, but you were already standing there in the middle of his room so the next best thing you could think of was to just get it over with. “Look, I wanted to apologize.” Steve looked up at you as he slowly sat the pile down. “I realize I took it too far, I didn't mean too.”

“Don't apologize.” Steve said after he took a deep breath, you noticed his shoulders relaxing a bit. “It's okay.”

“Sometimes I don't know how far to push it with you,” You sat down on the edge of his bed, carefully not to disturb his piles. “You keep me on my toes, always ready with a comeback or burn. Just let me know, in the future, because I really don't like grumpy Steve.”

“This week didn't quite go the way I had planned.” Steve shrugged. “You didn't take it too far, I just wasn't in the right headspace and took it out on you.”

You smiled slightly, “Anything I can do to help?”

“No, no.” He ran his hand through his hair as he let out a breathy laugh, “Thank you though.”

You stood up, “If you think of something just let me know.”

“I know where to find you.” You could see the twinkle of your favorite Steve shining through.

You started walking backwards towards the door, “Creep.” You shot back with a smile and just as you turned to leave, a basket caught your eyes.“What are these?”

“They are a present from a fan, it was delivered while we were out on the mission.” He got up off his bed and came to stand beside you. 

He watched as your fingers delicately flipped through the contents. “Are these first editions?”

“Some yeah, there's a hand full in here from the forties.” He pulled one out, “But, this one is one of my favorites. Captain America: A Man Out of Time.”

The selection seemed bittersweet, 

“Why?” You asked.

“It's the closest version of me I've read.” He let the comic slide back down into place, “And it's wrong.” He looked over to see your confused face. “Have you read it?”

You shake your head, “No.”

“Here.” He fished it back out. “Read it and tell me what you think.”

Before you took the material you brought your hands up around his waist, pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry your week didn't go as planned.” 

He let his arms come to rest around your shoulders. “Me too,” You pulled back. “But guess it comes with the job.”

You took the comic from him and flipped through it quickly, “That it does. See ya tomorrow and for God’s sake would you stop working for two seconds.” Steve walked towards you with a smile forcing you to walk backwards as you continued to talk, “I mean lets be real, these are your golden years, and you're going to waste it on paperwork? I would be more than happy to turn it all into confetti for ya and then the real party can start!”

He pushed you back until you were outside his door. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Steve.” You smiled as you made your way back to your room.

As you entered your room the ball of anxiety had disappeared and a small smile pulled at your lips. 

You guys were good.

…............................................................................................................................

It was another week, another quiet day. Mainly due to the fact half of your friends were out on a mission. You were kinda bummed you didn't get to go and even more bummed Nat and Wanda had to go and you now had to find a way to entertain yourself. Everyone was out except for you and Sam, but you opted to grab a snack and chill rather than join him in the gym. 

With a bowl of ice cream in hand you made your way back to your room. As you exited the elevator you noticed a small white object in the middle of the floor. As you reached down to grab it you realized it was an envelope.

You turned it over to find a blank face and you could feel something inside. When you got back to your room you sat your ice cream down and began to investigate. It was a small envelope and it wasn't sealed, the top flap was just tucked under. You carefully untucked the flap and pulled out the contents. 

A thank you card was revealed and it felt thick, like there was something else inside, you thumbed the card open to reveal an invitation to a celebration of life. The name Milton John Robert was printed across the top of the paper with two pictures below it. One of a very nice looking old man and another younger version of him in his military uniform. The funeral had already passed, it took place a few weeks back during the four day mission.

After the invitation was a folded up piece of newspaper, Milton's obituary was cut out and folded up, you set it to the side. Inside the card was beautiful handwritten note:

Steve,

I know you wanted to be here and Dad would have been overjoyed but we also understand. The world never stops turning does it?

Dad looked up to you so much and we as a family can't thank you enough for filling the last of his time with such wonderful happiness. 

We can never repay you for what you brought him but please take his comics. He wanted you to have them. Some of them he has had since the 40's. Enjoy them and please don't stop bringing the joy and happiness to all of the veterans at the home. 

Thank you,

Jessica and Family 

You felt the warmth of tears begin to well in your eyes. "Oh Steve," is all you could say as it clicked with you. The outburst, your choice of words, it was enough for anyone to push back. You knew it wasn't all you, but it saddened you they Steve didn't just tell you. That you made it worse without knowing. 

You unfolded the obituary to find that Milton had stayed at the Veterans Home not too far from the compound. Without another thought you placed the contents back in the envelope, grabbed your leather jacket and rushed out the door. Ice cream forgotten and left to melt.

A nice perk of being an Avenger was the fact you never had to drive anywhere if you didn't want to. In a matter of minutes you had asked Friday to call up a driver and by the time you made it to the garage he was waiting for you with the door open ready for you. After giving him the address the driver nodded and took you to the veterans home. 

As you pulled up to the home you saw Steve's bike. "Yup this is it, thanks."

"Would you like me to wait?" The driver asks you.

You opened the door and hopped out, "Nope, it's alright. Thank you."

He nods as you close the door and he drives away. You walk in through the double door entry to be met by a receptionist. 

"Hi, I'm looking for Captain Rogers?" You asked the lady sitting behind the desk.

"Oh he's down with the residents now, would you like a visitor's pass?" She asked with a smile.

You smiled in return, "If I could, thank you."

After filling out a paper you took your visitors pass and followed the directions to the residents hall where you were told Steve was. 

As you turned down the hallway you reached a doorway that opened up into a larger room. You leaned against the doorway watching as Steve enthusiastically reenacted a Captain America tale about the Howling Commandos. You stood for a moment just taking it in.   

“Sometimes he plays the piano, or we listen to old records and have ourselves a dance party. Today he is telling the tales of Captain America.” A nurse came up to stand beside you before gesturing to the crowd of residents. “I don't think they have any idea what's going on but wherever they are, they’re happy, and that's really all that matters.” She placed an open palmed hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before going to help one of the residents adjust their back pillow.

You decided to wait outside, before he could notice you were there. You made your way back up to the front desk. “Hey, if you could keep the fact I was here on the downlow I would appreciate it.” You say to the receptionist. “It's not a crazy big deal but for now it needs to be.” 

“Of course!” She replied back. “I hope you’re not in too much trouble.”

“I’ve been told it's my middle name.” You joke back with a laugh, making her laugh. “Have a good rest of your day.” You say as you walk out. You hear a faint you too before the door closes. 

You notice a bench sitting off to your left, out of view, and decided to take a seat.

…............................................................................................................................

“Okay Norm, where are we off to today?” Steve asked as he pushed a man in a wheelchair, his oxygen tubes clinging to his sunken face and a thick blanket covering his legs. 

The man sat up slightly, “Home. They’re sending me my rifle.”

“Is that so.” Steve continued to push Norm down the hall to his room.

Norm shook his head, “They are sending a guy right now. He’s going to bring me my uniform and everything!” His voice grew.

A nurse stepped out of Norm’s room as she went to take over for Steve. “Okay Norm, get a good night's sleep. Report for duty at oh eight hundred you got it?”

“Yes Captain.” He saluted before being brought into his room.

Steve smiled slightly as he made his way up to the front desk. “Have a good night, see ya next week.”

“Finally got Norm into his room?” The receptionist asked. 

Steve shook his head slightly, “It's getting a little more difficult each and every time.”

“Always is.” The receptionist smiled. “See you next week.”

Steve nodded before making his way out the doors. 

You watched as he placed his hands in his pockets as he walked. “So this girl, is she a resident or an employee?” Steve whipped around quickly before letting his head fall back as he let out a sigh. “If I have to fight an old lady, I will, I won’t be happy about it but I’ll do it.” You got up and walked up to him just as he pulled his head back, looking down at you.

“And why would you be fighting old ladies?” He questioned back with a raised eyebrow.

You cross your arms in front of you, “Look competition is competition. I’m working with quite a large age range here and if I have to fight an old lady to establish what's mine then so be it.”

He looked at you, adoration beaming from his face, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Oh I think Ruth could give you a run for your money.”

“Ruth!?” You cracked your knuckles as you began to walk back towards the front doors. 

Steve caught your arm and spun you back facing him, “How about you spare Ruth and in return I take you out for some food.”

You acted like you were taking a moment to think it over before making your way over to his bike. “Steve Rogers are you asking me out on a date?” You picked up the helmet he had sat on the seat. 

“I believe I am. Now where would the pretty lady like to eat?” He replied as he plucked the helmet out of your hands and slid it on your head, clipping the strap under your chin.

You tilted your head slightly, “Surprise me.”

“Hold on.” Steve swung his leg over the bike before turning back towards you. You hopped on wrapping your arms around his waist as his bike roared to life. Steve weaved throughout the backstreets until the Brooklyn Bridge was in sight. 

End.

Part 2 Coming Soon

[utterlyinevitable]

Hopeless (Part 2)

Part 1 

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 2k Warning: angst, few curse words, adult themes Summary: This takes place around Chapter 1 in OHSY after Ethan comes back from the stupid Amazon. There’s mentions of MC x Raf and Ethan x Harper.  

A/N: Thanks to @aylamwrites​ for diving in and pre-reading, it gave me a kick up the ass to finish and post this 🤣

________________________________________

“Ethan? I know you’re in there.” 

The two luckless lovers wordlessly cursed the situation they’ve found themselves in. Both too afraid to move at first. Maybe if they just stayed frozen in their place, not even daring to take a breath, the Head of Surgery would give up and leave them alone. 

Becca burrowed further into Ethan, taking in the last notes of his cologne mixed with her body mist, and the sweet smell of their natural scents mixed together. His skin, his touch, his warmth,  everything that made up Ethan - her Ethan - was still ever so comforting for Becca. Like being home in his arms. The way his muscles tensed and arms constricted around her led Becca to believe that they were going to ignore this nearly detrimental intrusion. They were going to hide from reality together. Together and buck ass naked on the old leather sofa, legs intertwined and Ethan right by her side where he belongs. 

Ethan’s eyes were shut tight hoping the encroachment on his personal time was a dream and that he was peacefully asleep with his resident in his arms. His nose buried deep in her misplaced waves inhaling the calming scent of gardenia and mandarin orange that is so distinctly Becca.    

Another hard pressed knock. 

“Ethan,” they could hear the growing annoyance in Harper’s voice.  

A low gruff groan emitted from him. There was no escaping this. 

Stiff in his arms Becca clung to him for dear life, begging him not to go. Not again. If he goes, everything he was so concerned about protecting would sure be over. Regretfully, Ethan peeled her right arm from where it was cemented over his bare chest and at his side. 

Sweaty sticky limbs slowly started untangling themself. For the second time in less than three minutes they both internally cursed themselves for doing something so incredibly reckless. 

What was I thinking? 

I wasn’t. 

Ethan carefully slid out from under her causing Becca to flop down to the back of the couch with an undignified screech as her clammy backside skid against the leather. He shot her a scornful look and she retorted with an angered scrunch of her face. The noise wasn’t her fault, he was the one that moved. 

He was also the one to take my clothes off. This isn’t my fault. 

Ethan reached down grabbing his shirt from its discarded place next to the glass coffee table. 

“Ethan, open the door.”  

With a sigh he grumbled back, “Coming.” 

He threw his briefs and trousers on haphazardly and did up a few shirt buttons quickly. He knew he could get away with this ungodly sight under the cover of a solitary nap after a hectic day. What he couldn’t figure out in the next ten seconds was how to explain why a subordinate was locked away with him looking much worse for wear. 

Ethan stood up at a snail’s pace. He took the shortest steps she’d ever seen as he made his way to the door. Everything to Becca was happening in slow motion. 

Fuck. 

Her heart was racing out of her chest, she tried to keep her irregular breaths quiet but her body just wasn’t fully recovered from their sexscapade to take back any sort of firm control. Becca was in panic mode. Harper Emery was quite possibly among the worst of people who could walk in on them. Her keen knowledge of Ethan certainly made the situation worse - would the all-knowing surgeon be able to derive their actions just by recalling Ethan’s faint post-sex musk? 

There was no time to panic. 

Harper was on the other side of that door impatiently waiting for it to be unlocked. How long had she been standing there? If college had taught Becca anything it’s that the bricks of any large, mass-produced building were not sound proof. 

Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Oh my god. 

As quickly as Becca could while Ethan bounded over to the door at a political pace, she gathered her clothes which thankfully weren’t too far from the sofa. Top and bottoms were chucked on, consciously forgoing underwear - the lace pieces and her shoes cradled tightly against her chest. She did a double take. Then a triple take ensuring there were no other telling signs strewn about. 

Ethan reached out to grab the doorknob. 

Fight-or-flight kicked in. 

The handle turned haltingly and all the oxygen drained from the air. 

Ethan’s free hand flew to cover his remorseful eyes as he gradually opened the door, shedding outside light onto the sanctuary. 

Harper Emery stood under the harsh fluorescent hospital lighting in her 15-hour old clothes and arms folded disapprovingly over her chest. 

With one swift look at her long-time accomplice she commanded, “Go home, Ethan.” 

Ethan was too stricken to say anything. 

Harper raised an eyebrow when her greeting wasn’t met with a witty comeback and blatant disregard for decorum. She pushed past him into the office and Ethan could have sworn he was going into cardiac arrest. 

He lightly spun around to face the surgeon with arms half raised as if he was surrendering before Harper pulled the trigger. 

When he turned around Becca was gone. All traces of her and their last hour of unabashed passion were gone. His eyes darted around to every surface she had touched in the last sixty minutes. Nothing. Every bit of her scattered around the seating area had vanished. It was as if she had never walked into his life at all. 

Was it all just a cruel dream? 

Harper’s critical voice brought him out of his stupor, “I shouldn’t have to tell you sleeping in your office is against hospital policy.” 

He stood up straighter still towering over her and crossed his arms to match the displeasure, “When has that ever stopped us before?”  

Harper skillfully assessed the state of the diagnostics office. Dipped leather, dark lighting, Ethan’s clothes hanging loosely and his hair completely out of place. She feared he was worse off than what she anticipated. 

“Go home, Ethan,” she recited. “I know you’ve slept here almost every night since you’ve been back.” His eyes were still searching around the room and looking everywhere but at the woman before him. Harper crossed the distance and cupped his cheek forcing him to focus his morose blues on her. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re not.” She looked back over her shoulder to where his eyes kept lingering on the sofa. “What’s that ratty couch have over your apartment? Heaven knows your Tempur-Pedic mattress is much more comfortable.” Her thumb caressed the apple of his cheek, tracing the faint beauty mark only very few are ever close enough to appreciate. 

The couch just held Becca. 

Didn’t it? 

Did he just soil the one place he had in this whole city that solemnly held onto their professional relationship? If so, where could Ethan go to avoid the memories of her now? In this moment Ethan hoped the last hour had been all a dream. 

He sighed. Accepting the fact that his imagination had conjured her up once again to get him through another restless night.

“I have a lot to catch up on,” he shrugged. “It’s more efficient if I stay here.” 

“Go home, Ethan,” she said, her dark and normally eclipsed eyes heavy with concern.  

“You’re not chief anymore.” 

“No.” Harper said definitively with a light tap to his chiseled cheek. “But I know the Chief wouldn’t approve of this scene either.” 

She feathered a light kiss to his left cheek. When they pulled apart she took one last look around the dejected man she spent years learning. He still was wholly unsettled and his office was in moderate disarray. This was not the Ethan Ramsey she knew.   

With that she left and closed the door tightly behind her. 

Ethan promptly locked the door and began to pace. His hand flew from his tousled hair down his tired face. Had he really lost so much of his grip on reality? He thought he’d gotten over the hallucinations of her - his subconscious had stopped summoning her picturesque form around day 32 of his Amazonian sabbatical. He’d finally pulled himself from the equation and reset. There’s no way his known resolve would let him do this - he would never cross barriers and have sex in his office, let alone fall apart with the woman he - No. This was a maddening dream. As much as it pained him, he needed to let Rebecca Lao go. 

But now even his office wasn’t free from her. Where do you go to find darkened peace when the sun has already claimed all known surfaces with its devotion?  

He opened his sorry eyes.

And there she was. 

Becca was on hands and knees crawling out from behind his larger than needed desk. 

“You’re here,” he breathed with incredulity.  

Becca stood and was wiping the dust off her knees. “Yeah. Why’re you surprised?” 

A sudden wave of happiness overcame Ethan, happy to know he didn’t make it up - that they did indeed sleep together for the first time in weeks. That they still felt something for each other though circumstance demanded otherwise. But as he took in the pleasant surprise before him the weighted severity of the situation came crashing down all at once. Becca could see the gears change in his eyes. 

She took his ill response as answer enough. 

“Right.” 

The moment she realized what she had done she wanted to retreat. She shoved her underwear as deeply in her scrub pants pockets as far as they could possibly fit and slipped on her shoes. Her flight response kicked in and she brushed past him at lightning speed, so quick that Ethan wasn’t allowed the courteous chance to stop her. As she ran she felt the ducts of her eyes swell and begin to glaze over. Becca bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood to keep from shedding another fucking tear over Ethan Ramsey’s rejection. 

This story was getting old and Becca really didn’t want to feel used and worthless anymore. She prided herself on always following her intuition and knowing what she wanted from life. How could her heart be so ludicrous in thinking Ethan wanted her too. 

She had set her own boundaries. Becca had turned him down for a nightcap at Donohue’s the night he resurfaced. She wasn’t going to speak with him, not after he left her high and dry for two months. They were going to be vengefully professional. She was going to pretend all the glances and lustful actions over the last year didn’t happen - every sight, every conversation, every time he sat in that chair next to her she had to remind herself nothing happened. They were nothing. 

And yet here she was sneaking out of his office during an unscheduled graveyard shift like none of that pain mattered. Now every single day she has to go through the motions and look at that damn rotten couch every single shift - another reminder of the blatant repudiation. 

When will I learn?   

She briskly made her way down to the locker room to grab her things. As much as she needed the distraction work provided she did not want to be here. Not after that. Nor could she stomach being alone with her thoughts any longer tonight. So she texted Raf. Maybe he’d be sitting in the cafeteria waiting for some action and want to sneak away for a bit. Her living under a 10-minutes jog from Edenbrook made her part of the bargain an even more convincing argument on normal nights. 

She didn’t expect the text she received afterwards. 

Come home with me. 

Seriously? she thought. 

A single tear escaped Becca’s enervated ducts. Her lips perked up from the resting frown they’ve found themselves in the last few weeks. After everything that had transpired it seems like Becca was finally getting what she wanted. 

________________________________________

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[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 14

Chapter title: Two Birds, One Stone

A/n:  HELLO!! How is everyone doing! It's another chapter! And oh no! So much has been revealed! Have fun you guys hehe ;) I love Patton Sanders, I'm legally required to tell you that every day sorry. Anyway you have all the letters so have fun with that. Please do leave me some comments!! I appreciate them so much! They genuinely make my day!

First | Previous | Next

words: 5379

summary: The day after Halloween poses a strange one with good and bad events occurring

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene, dead bodies, murder, gun mention, guns, swearing

Ao3 Link  

Let’s get a few things straight, shall we? One. Logan is not straight. Second, Logan could absolutely get used to waking up like this. Patton must have adjusted the lawyer for instead of sitting comfortably in the corner he was laying down with a pillow under his head and a blanket covering him. It took him a moment to recognize the warmth he felt around his arms and chest, that is until Remus squirms slightly, clutching tighter to Logan. He lets out a soft yawn before carefully sitting up trying not to wake up the twins. He moves Valerie first setting her softly on the pillow, she stutters but promptly falls back asleep. Remus turns out to be harder, clearly whether subconsciously or not sticks to Logan. Finally removing the tight grasp of the twin he sets Remus next to his sister, pulling the blanket above them for warmth.

“Apples don't have pits” Remus mumbles softly, rolling over with the blanket. Logan smiles softly, guess he listens. His tired eyes dart around the room, blinds aren't fully closed allowing some early sun to bleed in. He yawns once more covering it with his arm, moving stiffly to the kitchen.

“Good...morning” Logan would have jumped but he didn't know if he was fully conscious. He turns slowly his eyes set on a sleepy Patton, standing under the arch of the kitchen in his pajamas. There are a few things Logan can't explain, but the overwhelming need to take Patton in his arms and kiss him good morning might take the cake. The way Patton fiddles with the ends of his shirt, the soft shuffling of his bunny slippers as he yawns in place makes Logan, in the most professional sense, swoon.

“Good morning...Patton” His eyes slowly track the lawyer, his breath catches for just a moment. How could a person look so...perfect at all times? “I apologize, did I disturb your sleep?” He questions, Patton chuckles sweetly shaking his head. Their voices contain pleasant whispers.

“No no...I usually wake up early, so much to do” He mentions making his way further into the kitchen, Logan steps aside. “Coffee dea-” He stops himself, taking a deep breath, the pot of coffee shakes in his hand. “Would you like coffee Logan?” He corrects, Logan fears his own words. The silence consumes the room but his thoughts were pulsing. The same question in his mind, he knew the answer but was afraid of how he felt.

“Yes, I would enjoy some if it isn't too much trouble” He decides, ignoring anything really. He rubs uncomfortably at his clothes from the previous night. Patton notices gasping carefully.

“it's no trouble at all, are you alright?” He asks, Logan tilts his head raising an eyebrow. “I just mean your clothes, I have some clothes you could borrow” He suggests, Logan wouldn't be needing the coffee anymore, his eyes shoot open. He coughs as Patton returns to serving a delectable cup of freshly brewed coffee. He hands the cup gently to Logan their hands meeting for a moment, the slight shock from the carpet running through them. “Oh! I'm sorry!” Patton rushes pulling away, Logan shakes his head.

“It's alright, just friction and electricity” Logan tries, he's much too tired to explain anything. He gestures towards the table, Patton nods following him and sitting next to him. “What are your plans for the day?” Logan inquires, Patton yawns, his nose scrunching as he does so.

“Mmm,” He hums, stirring his coffee slowly “I'm not sure, Emile and Remy asked to babysit the twins so I am free for a while…” He recalls mentally going over his day “I was um…” He pauses meeting Logans trying eyes behind his glasses “I was thinking of working on...the case” He whispers, Logan takes a breath.

“Well if you would...want some assistance or company on that...I would..” Logan struggles not sure how to offer his help, Patton smiles taking Logan's hand.

“Thank you, Lo” He assures, for a moment the soft snoring of the twins, the morning noises as the earth wakes from its slumber...everything just falls away. It's these moments Patton treasures, where he can allow himself to get lost in someone. Feeling the ever soft fiddling of Logan's fingers in his own, the way his eyes sparkle during a conversation, the way his hair sits perfectly messy atop his head. The clock chimes, echoing through the house causing Patton to pull away. He averts his gaze looking anywhere but Logan's eyes. “I was going to visit Roman later tonight, would you like to join me?” Patton asks planning what he will bring the judge, maybe some sweet treats.

“One hundred percent” Virgil joins in, his voice causing both lawyers to jump, not giving Logan a chance to respond. Patton greets him with a warm smile and a light squeeze to the arm as the detective passes by for his own cup of coffee. A few moments later tired scurrying enters the room, Damian clutching to one of Patton's guest bedroom pillows. He eyes the lawyers curiously before following his father into the kitchen.

“How did you guys sleep?” Patton calls out from his table, the twins stir but they sleep deep. Virgil returns a moment after grumbling as his little son follows his almost every step, clearly creating a game of his own with it. Remus used to do just that, Patton recalls smiling fondly at the shy boy. He must have misstepped or forgot to look as he ended up bouncing right into his father's legs, hugging them for stability. Patton laughs gently allowing Damian to focus his attention towards Patton, waving coyly with his small hands towards his uncle.

“What are you doing down there?” Virgil teases picking up his son as he giggles ferociously. He buries his head into Virgil as the detective sits on the other side of Logan. Patton stands finishing his own beverage placing the hand-made china delicately in the sink for a later wash. He then proceeds to journey towards the couch where Remus and Valerie have somehow managed to cuddle with one another. Patton strokes their heads sweetly, all three yawning in unison. Remus wakes first instantly grabbing one of his father's fingers squeezing it.

“Morning crabcake” Patton whispers as Logan and Virgil continue a soft conversation in the background. Remus’s eyes flutter open as he sits up, his legs spread as he places his arms in the space between rubbing his crusted eyes.

“Mormin” He mumbles incoherently. “Day?” He mutters, to the normal person this would just be another child's weird thoughts but Patton knows his children well.

“You're going to spend the day with Remy and Emile!” Patton exclaims. Remus gives two thumbs up before falling dramatically backward onto the couch, Valerie grumbles kicking her brother annoyed. They commence in a small, tired fight before Valerie gives up crawling into her father's arm deciding that's her new resting spot. Remus, feeling left out, jumped upon his father resting in his others arms. Logan and Virgil look up both gain an increasing smile at the trio's antics.

“Home now?” Damian wonders tugging on his father's jacket. Virgil yawns nodding, he stands to gather what few things he has including Damian's candy from the previous night. Patton makes his way over to him allowing Remus to somehow slither away from him to greet Logan. The lawyer had grown quite comfortable and used to Remus’s ways and fully welcomed the young boy in his arms.

“Yes home now” Virgil confirms, Patton smiles at them from afar. Virgil pulls him into a hug, a hug he wished he had given Roman. “I will meet you guys at the hospital later, thanks Pat” Virgil nods, Patton shakes Damian's small hand much to the boy's glee before they make their way out of the house, disappearing behind the door.

“Remus I would kindly ask you to refrain from messing with my hair” Logan interjects Patton's thoughts, the father spins instantly turning red as Remus uses Logans head as his canvas. Patton is never embarrassed by his kids but there are times when he wishes they wouldn't act on impulse. He glances incredibly apologetic towards Logan barely pulling Remus off of Logan.

“I'm so sorry” He regrets releasing the twins into their bedroom, listening as they cause commotion every step of the way.

“Don't be” Logan assures, Patton sighs just in time as the doorbell rings. Patton makes his way towards the door opening it, Emile acts first waving excitedly as Remy simply makes his way into the house.

“Are there two munchkins in this house or what?!” Remy exclaims, Patton politely invites Emile in laughing at the detective. Sure enough, two excited pairs of feet return to the common area squealing with delight as they jump into Remy's arms. “Well if it isn't thing one and thing two” He greets, they hug him, squeezing him possibly a little too tight.

“Uncle Rem!” They manage through their absolute enthrallment, Logan wonders if he could ever procure such a reaction. Emile swears he's swooned multiple times, watching his partner lovingly from afar.

“Thank you so much for doing this, I would take them with me but I don't want them to see Ro in such a… dismal state” Patton informs, Emile takes his arms shaking his head.

“Always and thank you, I think it'll be great for us…” Emile admits now watching Remy ‘tackle’ the twins on the floor, screeching in ungodly laughter. “And hey if he wakes up shoot us a text and we’ll bring them over” Emile adds turning to Patton.

“Thank you” He gives a quick lean before making his way towards his things, making sure he has his belongings. “Oh! And Virge will be dropping Damian off in a little bit” He remembers, Emile nods. “I am going to go change, I will be right back” He announces returning after a moment fully clothed. Logan stands straightening out his own outfit feeling tight. Patton kneels in front of the now calm twins, they stare expectantly.

“Hello, Papa!” Valerie greets using her small hands to boop her father's nose. Remus falls back into Remy's lap giggling, clearly recovering from an adrenaline rush.

“Hello Valerie” Patton replies booping her right back, she swats her nose. “Alright, you two are going to be on your best behavior right?” They nod in unison, a little too fast. “Good, well Papa loves you and will see you later,” He says giving them both a kiss on the forehead. They wave him goodbye before returning to their own game. Logan stands following Patton towards the door, Remus looks up waving him goodbye with a cheery grin. They step out of the house making their way towards the sidewalk.

“Do you ever worry about leaving them?” Logan ponders out loud

“Not if its someone I trust, and I trust them” Patton responds. They settle silently into the car, a nagging thought pulls at Logan.

Would you trust me?

~~~

“Well well well, look who finally came to visit me!” Roman greets, a proud smile across his face. Patton freezes rejoicing in a squeal running towards his friend. A careful hug is shared between the pair, only so much can be done with Roman's injury and the fact that he now resides in a bed. Logan follows closing the door, he smiles relieved at the judge who acknowledges it.

“Oh Ro! You're awake!” Patton claps, he sits at the end of the bed now still holding onto Romans hand afraid to let it go. “We were so worried” Logan recognizes the difference, it's softer and freer. Patton isn't checking every word that falls out of his mouth, its...childish almost. As opposed to how he speaks to his children or in court. Fascinating, Logan decides.

“Well I'm ok now padre, a little roughed up but nothing a Reial cant handle” Roman beams, Patton squeezes his hand. “Now, let's get-

“Roman?” No one heard him come in, his steps were so soft, so cautious. Patton and Logan jerk their heads towards the door a very stricken Virgil stands, his eyes fixated on the judge. “Y-you're…” He starts pushing past his shock and moving into the room. Logan and Patton share a thought before leaving the room, closing the door.

“I hear I have you to thank for m-” Being cut off by a hug was not...something Roman was against. Especially from Virgil, He hugs back not realizing exactly how terrified he felt until Virgil was practically clinging to him, afraid if he let go Roman might just slip through his fingers. “Virge-crushing...can't breathe” Roman tries, Virgil lets go frantically.

“Sorry, sorry” He checks himself, scanning Roman up and down. “I just...missed you” He admits, Roman laughs hiding his own blush. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone poisoned me” Roman replies, Virgil gives a small smirk cocking his head. “If I wasn't so mad I would be pretty excited! Like talk about a mystery” Roman rants, the amount of relief Virgil feels cannot be described. “Hey…” Roman pouts examining the room, the cold walls swallowing his excitement “Where are the kiddos?” He pokes, Virgil smiles softly.

“Rem and Emile have them, I'll tell them you're awake...I'm sure they would all love to see you” He comforts, knowing he has to but hating the thought Virgil lets go of Romans hands, lingering maybe a little too long. He opens his phone sending a quite rushed text to Remy, his partner responding fast assuring him that they will be there soon, then once he regains his composure turns back to Roman. The judge stares at him, and for a moment it really is just them. “I should get Patton and Logan” Virgil coughs, oblivious he truly was.

“Right...right” Roman nods, avoiding Virgil's eyes, a disappointed gaze falling on the bed. The detective uses this as a cue to venture outside calling in his friends, they enter halting their conversation. “So what're the haps! What did I miss? C’mon pocket protector, anyone new in your life?” It just slipped out, Roman was still dealing with the debris of anesthesia. Logan froze, raising his eyebrows. Patton shifts uncomfortably sharing a glance with Virgil.

“I brought some treats!” Patton announces, hoping his voice isn't as shaky as it feels. The green-eyed monster is no fun, that's what Patton always told his kids. But the thought hadn't crossed his mind, what if Logan did have someone else? He would eventually, would he not? He would fall in love and…

“Treats!” Roman cheers, making grabby hands towards the snacks, clearly wanting to push away the previous interaction. Patton crosses the room ignoring the two pairs of eyes watching him handing Roman some delectable sweets. He fans himself quickly, wanting the amber color upon his face to leave. “I love food, I feel like I haven't eaten in ages” Roman stuffs some food in his mouth, chomping down even more. A chime from his phone distracts Virgil from the conversation.

“Hey, Remy and Emile just got here” Though fast, they were apparently on their way to the park so it made sense. Patton nods assuming he would be joining Virgil in his quest to recover the children. Roman sits up feeling discordant as Virgil prepares to leave, he makes no sound but his eyes say enough. “Ro, I'll be right back” He assures, Roman gives a grateful nod, returning to a comfortable position. Soon they left venturing through the harrowed halls to meet up with Remy and Emile.

“Roman...are you alright?” Logan checks, unlike the others he stands at the end of the bed. Roman takes a moment, sorting his own thoughts. His body feels off, he feels as though any remnants of adrenaline have just drained away.

“I think so?” Logan cocks his head trying to comprehend “I-i don't know, to be honest, I just feel...here” Roman motions to the bed, trying to grasp the concept. Logan takes a breath averting his eyes, he himself cant exactly connect to what Roman is saying or feeling but it wouldn't do him good to not try. He wants to continue the conversation, his friend clearly needing someone to talk to but it seems the deafening screams from down the hall have other ideas.

“Guys!” Patton cries in warning but the trio has other ideas. Damian wriggles free from Virgil's hold first unfortunately intercepted by Logan who scoops him up. The twins use this distraction to escape Emile and Patton's clutches but a newly freehanded Virgil stops them in their tracks. Damian balls his fists hitting an unaffected Logan in the shoulder, wishing nothing more than to be set free.

“Wanna ...see...RoRo” He begs in between each hit, Logan might have laughed it was such a soft touch. Virgil relinquishes hold over Remus giving him to a now recovered Patton. Roman, who has been gleefully but also nervously watching the collision, laughs. “Hnng!” Damian now tries a different approach, trying to push himself free of Logan.

“You guys have to be careful ok?” Patton informs, Logan gives a knowing look towards Damian who pouts in return. “One at a time, uncle Roman is very fragile right now” Patton advises, instantly the clamoring starts up again.

“I wanna go first!” Damian squeals raising his arms high

“No me!” Remus retorts squirming excessively in Patton's arms.

“He's my uncle!” Valerie argues, Virgil stifles a soft chuckle.

“Mine too!” Remus tells her, Valerie sticks her tongue out.

“He's my dad!” Damian shouts Virgil couldn't get much paler. Logan and Patton dart their eyes towards the very frozen father, Roman possibly a little too hopeful, looks too. Valerie takes this moment to jump on the bed as Virgil's grip loosened.

“Val careful!” Patton warns moving closer, Virgil shakes his head grounding himself. Valerie heeds her father's warning, moving slowly on the bed until she's safe in Romans arms, enveloped in a hug. Over the shoulder, the judge could see Logan watching wearily, but Roman knew what he felt now; Happy and relieved. That's how he always felt around the kids.

“How is my favorite princesa?” Roman asks as the hyper girl pulls away, sitting idle on the bed.

“I went trick-or-treating!” She manages, Roman grins allowing her to continue, “I was a princess warrior! And Remus was my duke-

“Hey! That's me!” Remus points out to his father, Patton nods laughing slightly. Remus removes his fingers from his mouth giving a slobbery wave to Roman. The judge waves back re-centering his attention to the patient girl.

“And Dee was a wizard! And Papa was a cat! And mister Logan was something called LoLo” Valerie shrugs, Patton and Virgil stifle laughs ushering their eyes away from a reddened Logan. “And then we had a big sleepover!” Valerie finishes throwing her triumphant hands in the air.

“That sounds awesome Val!” Roman notes and it did. It proved challenging for Roman to smile as he learned about everything he missed or was missed from. Valerie nods as Emile takes his cue to remove her from the bed. “Alright, who's next?” Roman jokes. Remus, who has been waiting quite frantically, pushes against Patton trying to steer him forward. Patton sighs deciding not to fight, he transfers his son to Roman who waits with open arms to retrieve the young boy.

“Hello!” Remus greets hugging Roman, the judge hugs back. Once separated neither say a word, Remus simply bounces excitedly. The room waits, Patton and Logan share a glance, Patton shrugs. “I didn't think this far” Remus admits after a moment, Roman falls against his pillow practically wheezing. “I'm done! Bye-bye uncle Ro!” Remus waves proceeding to make grabby hands towards his father. Logan sets Damian on the bed, he stands on the comfy mattress waddling around. Virgil sits at the end of the bed watching carefully.

“Heya Dee!” Roman catches the curious boys' attention, he smooths out a part of the sheets before plopping down. Patton yawns, somehow he must have lost himself tuning out the conversation. As it continues Patton excuses himself leaving Emile in charge of Remus.

Patton has been through these hallways more times than he should have, visiting, being a patient here, and of course...the birth of the twins. It was hard to associate happy or sad feelings when its been pretty balanced. He's been here enough to know it like the back of his hand, he knows that to get to the coffee cart he has to go through the nursery, which he has no qualms about.

He stops in front of the window waving sweetly to the newborns, some giggling, some resting some not so happy but still adorable. He spots the place where Remus and Valerie once were, now occupied by two equally adorable babies.

“Which one's yours?” A woman asks approaching, Patton moves aside politely smiling.

“Oh, I'm not- none...just reminiscing I guess,” He says, his eyes still fixed. “And you?”

“That one, to the left” She gestures, Patton's eyes fall onto a small baby, smaller than the rest. The label reads female yet no name has been written. “She's my life,” The mother tells, Patton knows the feeling, and he's said the words.

“She's beautiful, any ideas for her name?” Patton wonders, the woman sighs content.

“We were thinking…”

~~~

“...Valerie” Patton beams, he points to the baby in the next crib over “And that's Remus” He informs. He knows he should be giving his attention but he can't take his eyes off of them.

“Pat they're beautiful” Barbara swoons, waving brightly at the babies. “I'm sorry I missed the birth” She atones, Patton waves her off too happy to care. Patton takes a moment to breathe, placing his hands over his chest.

“Don't be, you're here now and that's what matters Babs” Patton assures, Barbara links her arms with his, resting her head on his shoulder. “Hey, you're an aunt now” Patton teases, Barbara gasps softly.

“Oh my! I guess I am” She jokes back, she swears Valerie smiled at her. “I'm sorry mom and dad arent here” She laments, Patton knew this was coming. Patton leans slightly, his head resting a bit on his sisters.

“You know they would if…” He trails off, Barbara sighs lifting herself. They both know exactly why they aren't there, it doesn't make it easier. Patton won't lie, he held out the slightest hope that maybe...just maybe they would put their opinions aside and come to see their grandchildren.

“I know” Barbara shakes her head, nudging Patton softly “Hey! Don't let that get you down, you have kids! Pat, this is all you've wanted for a long time and look at them, they're perfect” Baraba gushes, Patton laughs nodding. Barbara takes a look around the hallways “Hey, where's Liam?” Before Patton has a chance to respond, a new voice joins the mix.

“Probably off disappointing Jesus” Marcy quips handing Barbara and Patton their cups of coffee. Barbara frowns, nudging Marcy carefully. Marcy returns the gesture with a loving kiss on the cheek.

“Marce” She whispers, Marcy shrugs sipping from her own drink. “I'm sure he’ll be here” Barbara hopes, Marcy scoffs and Patton has to appreciate her honesty. No, he won't, Patton thinks but gives them both a grateful smile. “Where are the others?”

“Uh...Lo and Roman got held up in court, Virge is at a crime scene but he should be here soon” Patton scratches his head trying to recall the position of all his friends. “Emile and Remy stopped by earlier and went to go get some food for everyone” Patton finishes, Barbara and Marcy nod taking in the information.

“Just means more baby time for us” Barbara jokes, Patton chuckles “Have you held them?” She inquires, Patton releases a breath his shoulders fall.

“Yeah” He barely whispers “Yeah right after they were born, the doctor just…” Patton trails off staring at the twins with a look he would come to use many a time, lovingly he stares.

“I apologize for the interruption Mister Hart” Patton swerves turning to the doctor, she smiles at the other two. “Your husband has arrived” She informs leading them away, Patton huffs.

“He is not my husband” He retorts softly, Marcy takes his shoulders as they walk.

“That means you technically have full custody over the children, seeing as you are the legal guardian and the adoption papers have-” Marcy recites bluntly only stopping as Barbara pleads, Patton purses his lips nodding ‘thankfully’. “Apologies”

“Have I ever told you how much you remind me of Logan?” Patton remarks, should he be the person on his mind? Probably not but Patton couldn't wait for his friends to meet the twins.

“Oh…” Marcy sighs dryly “Wonderful”

“Don't sound so excited” Barbara comments following her wife and brother down the saddened halls.

~~~

“I'm getting really sick and tired of this” Remy sighs ushering himself under some yellow tape stepping into another apartment. Carlton laughs dryly following in after him, Remy chooses to ignore this furthering himself into the room.

“Detective Nyx, good to see you again” Talyn greets, Remy meets them halfway shaking their hand.

“Same goes for you, though I wish it was under uh...better less murderous circumstances” He admits only half-joking. Carlton squeezes past them examining the rest of the scene.

“Hows Emile?” They ask guiding Remy through the house, he shrugs, trying to avoid the uneasy perfection that the house maintains.

“Good, he's with my friend at the hospital so...if we could wrap this up?” He hopes, Talyn scoffs. “Yeah thought so” He mumbles to himself, Talyn finishes at the bodies. “Two bodies?”

“Seems like it, well my boys are basically done here so the crime scene is all yours” Talyn insists patting Remy a farewell leaving their notes on the table. Remy gives them a peace sign goodbye watching them go.

“Doesn't seem like his style” Carlton comments approaching Remy, the apartment falls silent as the last of the forensics team leaves. “Although recently nothing seems like his style” Carlton points out, Remy finally agrees.

“Tell me about it” Remy breathes, he kneels in front of the remains nothing but two letters stain the house with the memory. The memory of the treacherous acts committed here. “L…and...I” Remy notes scribbling the two letters down, Carlton looks around.

“Spell anything new?” He questions, Remy shuts his notes.

“I'll have to check when we get back to the precinct” Remy decides, he examines the rest of the floor, slowly moving around the walls and ceiling. Nothing is out of place, nothing is even touched. “I'm gonna update Virge, let him know what's happening” Remy informs Carlton, his fellow detective nods as Remy sends an informative text.

“Where is he by the way?” Carlton inquires

“Uh Roman woke up so I told him he should probably stay” Remy replies, Carlton stands after looking over the area.

“Oh that's good, did they ever figure out who poisoned him?” Carlton slips, he continues casually tracing the apartment. The next few moments become crucial. Remy nods slowly, making his way carefully to the door, praying Carlton stays turned around long enough. He opens the lock they had for safety, the click echoes through the apartment. What he did not expect was another click, a loud one, a clatter to the ground.

“We never told anyone he was poisoned” Remy bites, his breathing shallow. He turns to raise his hands above his head. He's stared down the barrel of a gun many times but never had he felt so much anger. And so stupid, how did he not see it?

“That's what tipped you off?” Carlton teases, he holds control now, he can say whatever. Remy seethes, he plays loosely with his fingers, inching closer to his own gun. Carlton smirks, his face morphing behind his own sunglasses. “Should've given you more credit, thinking Virgil would be the problem” Carlton laughs, it's sickly, could be the fumes but Remy claims it's his voice giving him a headache. “Took care of that…”

“What the fuck did you do?” Remy whispers viciously, Carlton tilts his head. Remy swallows his throat pushing the pain down as it travels.

“It's not what I did to him” Carlton adjusts the gun in his hand, it wouldn't sit still. Clearly, he wasn't comfortable with it, not his weapon of choice. “But poor Roman…”  He pouts mockingly “I was pretty upset when he came out alive, but then I realized I could get two birds with one stone”

“Why are you telling me this? I know I'm not walking out of here alive so why bother?” Remy begs, keeping his composure cool, he turns sharply to the door locking it. Carlton re-determines the power he holds but allows the motion. Remy doesn't want anyone else to suffer, anyone else to bleed red at the hands of someone who mocks their life.

“So you can die-” He clicks his gun again, Remy tries not to flinch but its so silent. The smallest noise feels like a flood into his ears. “With an ending, it would be unfair of me to...not tell you my happy ever after” Carlton jokes, Remy takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. Even if just for a moment, to be anywhere but here. And asking why in the hell he didn't turn his ringer off. The buzzing itself was loud, but the cheery tune playing out was worse. Carlton glares, moving closer to the detective, he grabs Remy's phone from his holster, reading the caller ID.

“Carl-” Remy's desperate now

“Quiet,” He smiles, turning the phone to Remy “Looks like a murder a day, doesn't keep the doctor away” Remy fights to keep his breathing steady, as the illuminated photo of Emile flashes on screen. He remembers when he took that photo, their first date. Emile had spotted a dog, and his face just lit up, how could Remy not capture the moment? He's had it ever since, longing for simpler times, crazy what mortality can do to a person. “Pick it up, I don't need people worrying, and hey...if I hear even one falter” He warns, Remy exhales but takes the phone. His fingers trembling over the green light.

“Hey, Em...what's up?” He whispers, Carlton clears his throat. “What's up?” He asks clearly now, anything that was stuck in his throat, swallowed with any hope he had to survive and any hope to keep Emile as far away from this as he could manage.

“Rem! I have the best news” He knew it was coming, and yet… as soon as Emile's voice made its way through the phone, into Remy's ear, he couldn't. He held the phone away from his mouth, stifling very fearful sobs. “Remy? You still there? You alright?” A faded call.

“Y-yeah I'm ok...I'm ok, what's uh...what's the news?” He regains his posture, it's easy when Carlton's aim had not budged.

“The adoption agency! They called just now, someone picked us!” He exclaims, there really aren't words to describe the stabbing pain Remy felt. Carlton didn't even have to shoot the gun for Remy to feel the agony.  

“Someone...picked us?” He begs his voice remains so soft, Emile's delighted squeals from the other line confirming his question. “That's...that's wonderful Em…” He mutters, his lips pursed quickly. Just a little longer. Carlton gestures for him to hurry up. Impatient, Remy notes, great. If he wasn't so terrified, he would be pissed. This bitch, Remy thinks, surprisingly the familiarity calmed something in the detective. “Babe, I'm so sorry, I gotta go...new development and stuff” His voice is perfectly normal, perfectly calm, perfectly Remy. The same cannot be said for his face.

“Oh! Alright, well lunch tomorrow, and I'll see you tonight” No you won't “If you can make it home of course” I can't “Love you!” I love you so much. Remy holds the phone to his chest as the dial tone plays.

“So...its you” Remy states hearing the line go dead

“Not necessarily”

Well, shit

[xenoredux]

The Legend of Silver Fang - Episode 5: The Beasts

If you haven’t read episode 4 yet, you can do so here.

As mentioned before, the major story beats and overarching plot are the same. This is written under the supposition that, in fantasy land, this is a mini series with episodes that run about 2 hours in length each.

Some things to be aware of going in:

This story is violent as shit!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR: Animal injuries, animal death, sickness via poisoning, eye trauma, weaponry, cannibalism, fire damage to property and animals, wacky cult antics, child abuse and endangerment, suicide, starvation, dogfighting, bullying, and idk probably something else terrible. Seriously don’t read if you don’t like this kind fuckery

I was trying to achieve a decent adaptation that combines the strongest elements of the anime and manga. It will not be precisely like either and will occasionally totally deviate from both

This isn’t meant to be “better” then the canon. It’s just the way I’d go about rewriting the Akakabuto arc if I had that level of ungodly power lol

Character designs made to represent several mentioned characters can be found here, here, here, here, and here. Others will be left up to the reader’s interpretation. A link to the next episode will also be provided at the end. If a link isn’t available, the next episode just hasn’t been posted yet!

I KEEP POSTING THESE SO LATE IN THE DAY AAAAAHHH

The Igas and Gin are frozen where they float. Kurojaki's teeth clack against the scythe's handle as he sadistically taunts them. This day marks the end of the Iga clan he says (though it sounds more like "Ish ey marsh he and ufh eh Uhguh clun.") Akame barks back someone along the lines of "OH YEAH?" before turning to the others.

The albino levels with them: four against, what, 40? Not good odds. But maybe if there was a diversion some of them could get away. Akame passes his share of herbs to Jinnai and says that no matter what happens the Ohu soldiers must receive these herbs. Even if it costs the remaining Igas their lives and their legacy, no innocents will die just because some mottled dickhead bamboozled them all.

With a final command for them to get moving, Akame vertical leaps outta the lake and busts Koga heads the minute he lands. The other three good guys exit stage right while the gettin's still good. Gin looks back, almost certain someone's gonna come after them, but the Kogas are all too concerned with chasing Akame in circles to care about anything else.

Shinobi slaying is easier said then done, turns out. Akame didn't become Chief Ninja Daddy without some skills to back the title up. He is eventually pinned down by several heftier dogs, but it takes a few minutes of him humiliating his opponents first. As payback one of the cannibals chomps down hard on Akame's hind leg and jerks it back at a nasty angle. Akame lets out a manly scream of pain.

Jinnai, Kirikaze, and that silver guy are still running back home unimpeded when they hear Akame's hollering. Kirikaze is especially affected by his old man's tortured yowls and he begins crying big fat tears of sorrow.

So overwhelmed is he by his progenitor's wails that he tries to double back, but Jinnai tackles him and tries to smack some sense into him. Kirikaze's gotta nut up for Akame's sake. This scolding almost works, but another scream from the chief threatens to break the rest of Kirikaze's resolve.

They have reason to be concerned. Kurojaki's started wiping the forest floor with Akame's pale ass, bruising the Kishu heavily and giving him a nice big slash across the throat. The cut on his neck isn't enough to kill Akame, but combined with his other injuries it's enough to sap his remaining strength from him. As Akame tries to gather his bearings and defend himself the scythe comes down across his neck a second time.

Another scream of agony reaches the trio. Jinnai and Kirikaze are still fighting over whether to save the army of strangers or their dad when Gin decides he can't stand moral dilemas involving family. He spits out his share of herbs and shoves them towards Kirikaze.

Gin tells the bros that he's willing to double back and help Akame so long as they can pull themselves together long enough to cure the Ohu dogs. As the Akita moves towards the marsh, Jinnai asks him if he's so insolent as to disobey the chief's orders.

"Akame isn't my chief," Gin states matter of factly, "so I can do whatever I want." And so he turns and leaves the two Kishus to collect their herbs and continue their journey. Before they go the two decide to come back and help the moment they deliver the plants.

Akame coughs up blood and falls limply to the ground. He's hurting something fierce. He tries to go all Mind Over Matter with his body, but he's having too much trouble standing up to fight anymore. Kurojaki cackles triumphantly. Maya is grinning in a nasty way while their son yips excitedly, too young to understand that Daddy's committing an atrocity.

Emboldened by the support, Kurojaki decides it's time to deliver the killing blow. He leaps towards the incapacitated albino all ready to shreddy, too busy to notice the other Kogas trying to stop a silver striped blur from slamming into him. Gin lunges through the air, grabs Kurojaki by the hind leg, and does an anti-gravity version of the worm that sends both of them flying to the ground. Gin lands elegantly on all fours, but Kurojaki is slammed face first into the dirt. The moment he makes contact with Mother Earth, the cannibal lets out an unholy screech.

Everyone is taken aback - even Akame is frightened by the noise - as Kurojaki continues vicerally screaming for a moment more. It's at this moment that Gin realizes he hadn't seen where the scythe's blade had landed. Kurojaki lifts his trembling head and turns to face Gin.

The blade has been buried deep into the black devil's right eye. Icky red squidge oozes from the wound and down his cheek as he heaves a shallow, rattled breath.

"You little motherfucker," he pants, his remaining eye bulging and rolling around wildly in his head.

The other Kogas are now a terrifying mix of horrified and pissed the fuck off, and Kurojaki's ready to take advantage of that. As Gin gapes in horror at the live demonstration of why running with sharp things is a bad idea Kurojaki commands his crew to tear the invaders limb from limb. He especially wants that little stripey shit's head on a pike.

Obedient as ever, Kurojaki's mohawked mooks spring into action. Gin leaps to Akame's side to protect him. A couple of especially speedy Kogas advance on them before the others, but Gin's entire bloodstream is full of adrenaline right now and he manages to pick them off easily.

Before the rest of the hoard can descend upon them, Gin snags Akame up by the scruff and leaps into the trees with him. The Kogas watch as the two make their getaway. This only serves to frustrate Kurojaki. As Maya is fussing over his sliced up face he screams for the cult to follow the two.

Unaware of what's gone down, Jinnai and Kirikaze continue their jog home. They've been making good time but are stopped suddenly when another dog they've yet to meet jumps out of the bushes before them. He's just as surprised to see them as they are to see him, and they all trip over each other.

The dog, a tempermental German Shepherd, barks that the two dipshits need to watch where they're going next time. The Kishus apologize before scampering off with their herbs.

To the surprise of no one this rude dog is John. The upstart has finally left the village to pursue more heroic avenues. This is nice, but he realizes it's not quite going according to plan when he notices several dogs of intederminate breed running up to him.

These three dogs have the decency to stop and ask if John's seen a couple of white guys with plants in their gobs passing by. John pulls an "I know something that you don't know" face and tells them to fuck off because he's not going to enable them to chase down a couple of geeks with weeds.

This pisses the mohawked mutts off, as does the fact that John stinks of human civilization. They go to give him a taste of Whoopass Stew (1992) before John recites the navy seal copypasta from memory and teaches them some humility via a few well aimed bites and mean names regarding their haircuts. As soon as they realize he's a capable fighter the trio runs off with their tails tucked both metaphorically and literally between their legs.

This is getting bizzare. John's just arrived in this forest and already he's seen two groups of oddballs he can't begin to understand.

Back at the Iga House Gin has brought Akame home. He sets the ninja chief down gently as the other Kishus come to greet them. The Ohu soldiers, most of who are feeling much better now, are also glad to see Gin is still kicking.

Gin's happy to see them as well. He runs over to where they're gathered to more properly say hello. Most dogs are back on their feet, but he can't see the tallest one of them all. He asks where Ben is before realizing by the look on everyone's faces that this isn't a question they want to answer.

The crowd parts to reveal Jinnai has finally gotten Ben to eat his share of antidote. Ben's a hotass mess, though; his eyes are bloodshot, his mouth is foamy with excess saliva, and his muscles are all twitching involuntarily. He looks miserable as he stares aimlessly into the woods.

Akatora comes over to him and offers a friendly nudge and a whispered, "Hey, you okay?" Ben simply responds by snapping at him. Akatora tumbles backwards, stunned that his old friend and mentor would react to him so aggresively.

Akame pads over to Akatora and tells him not to take Ben's bizarre behavior to heart. Ben's had bad shit in his blood longer then everyone else. It's gonna take him a second to come out of this haze.

Luckily the dane seems to be regaining his composure, for he has managed to stand up and steady his limbs. The soldiers seem mostly relieved at the sight, but Gin notices Akame is still staring at Ben in concern. Is there something he's not telling them?

While alla this was going down, Hyena had wandered off by himself and ended up being taken prisoner by the Kogas. Worse still, he's been trafficking the corpses of dead Igas into their slapshod fridge (i.e. a dank, chilly cave).

As he drags the icky, ewwy canine cadavers along, his captures taunt and jeer at him for being both a wuss and their munchie packmule. One particularly nasty looking sucker with no tail tells him to move his ass before they decide to add him to the every-growing pile of carcasses. Hyena just whines miserably and goes back into the body storage. He's just flopped down another lifeless Kishu when he hears a sudden commotion outside. He cowers far back in the cave.

"MORE of these assholes?" says a newcomer. "Jesus, these woods are full of lunatics."

The Kogas have turned to look at their visitor. Three of them point him out as being a direct threat. They'd run into this dickhead in the woods, and though he stinks of men he's more powerful then any housepet they've chomped on before. While the cannibals encircle John, Hyena pokes his head out of the cave just long enough to recognize the GSD as one of the dogs he'd seen at Ohu. What on Earth is HE doing here?

Back at the Iga house the Kishus have organized to face off with the Kogas. Enough is enough. They can't allow any more innocents to get swept up in this stupid war.

Ben is feeling more lucid now and he insists that the Ohu dogs aid the raid against the Kogas. They outnumber the mohawked mongrels together and lbr this has become personal for the troops. Akame worriedly tries to convince Ben not to subject himself or his bros to this, but the dane refuses to leave it alone. Akame reluctantly agrees to let them help and begins leading the way back to the marsh.

Ben is just behind the shinobi, but he's doing a shit job at keeping with the pack. Despite having scolded Gin for running off course, Ben keeps drifting farther and farther off trail. In fact, he's essentially in the treeline now, and a concerned Gin and Cross follow to ask him where he's going.

Ben freezes up. He takes a deep sniff and realizes he's not with the others. Everyone stops running, concerned. Akame attempts to be stoic, but his brow twitches intently.

Ben tells everyone it's nbd bruh, he's just gotta take a piss, it's fine it's fine it's cool it's fine. Akame grunts and tells Kirikaze to continue leading the pack while he checks up on the big guy. Kirikaze nods and directs the others to follow him.

The only stragglers are Gin and Cross. They're both too concerned about Ben to follow orders. The two of them sneak closer to where Akame and Ben are huddled and strain to listen to what they're saying.

Akame looks sadly at Ben as the dane stares blankly ahead.

"Ben," Akame says in a low voice, "look at me."

Ben pauses for a second as if focusing hard, then turns his head. He's not looking at Akame. He's not even close to meeting eyes with him.

"Akame?" he says with a tinge of fear in his voice. "What's happening to me? I can barely see."

Akame sighs and apologizes to Ben for all this. It's a side effect of the poisoning. Ben was doped up on the bad shit long enough that there was potential for it to do some damage to his senses. The eyes and ears are most suseptible to the poison's effects, and it seems like Ben's eyes are feeling the hurt.

Ben's shoulders slump as he softly shakes his head. He figured his sudden astigmatism and fading peripheral vision had been brought on by Akame's bioweapon. He just hadn't wanted to admit it.

Gin is shaken to hear this, but he's not as upset as Cross. The Saluki is trying and failing to contain her tears.

"He'll never see--" she says before running off, unable to stand it anymore. Gin only lets her go when he hears the conversation continue.

Ben asks if he'll become totally blind. Akame says yes. Ben asks if he'll be blind forever. Akame says yes again. Ben asks if he'll be able to keep up his duties as commander. Akame doesn't respond directly but instead tries to soothe the dane by saying that he owes Ben a great debt and will pay it forward by being his eyes.

Ben takes a moment to think before thanking the Kishu, but he has a request. Cross is ready to take his place as commander when he becomes totally incapacitated, but as she was his successor she'll need a right hand dog of her own. Akame figures that all Ben's soldiers are so jacked that any of them would do nicely, but Ben has his eyes (no pun intended) set on one guy in particular.

That kid Gin... he's a good fighter, sure, but he's also young and eager and empathetic. He's got a good head on his shoulders, boundless potential, and clearly has had some training before. Within a few months he'll be fully grown, and by then he'll make a great lieutenant. Gin only now realizes he's been holding his breath.

Meanwhile, John has made quick work of the lingering Kogas, adding those who didn't flee to the abnormally high count of dog bodies in the area. When he's sure it's safe to come out of hiding, Hyena slinks out of the cave to meet John.

John recognizes the little twerp from Ohu mountain, but he's still in Fight or Fight mode so instead of saying hi he just gears up to cream him. Hyena whimpers and begs for mercy, insisting that the Kogas took him as a POW and that he's still loyal to the Ohu army. John rolls his eyes and takes Hyena's word for it before turning to leave.

Hyena dares not be alone in this above-ground graveyard, so he follows John. The shepherd either doesn't realize or doesn't care that Hyena's his new little tagalong. They wander for a bit, Hyena taking every chance he can to suck up to John, before John tells him to shut the fuck up and listen.

The dogs fall quiet. The sound is faint, but they can distinctly hear a low mumbling, or, more accurately, the muffled sound of a crowd speaking amongst themselves. Someone literally barks a command and all the voices fall silent. John nudges Hyena to follow his lead and the two sneak closer to find out what's going on.

As they advance on the group they realize that it's more of the Kogas. The cannibals are having a meeting.

Kurojaki's eye socket has stopped bleeding and instead has collapsed in on itself, the tattered lids laying concave in his skull. He's sitting atop a boulder looking down at his cult as he gently strokes the babyhawk atop his infant heir's head.

As his son mouths absentmindedly at his father's paws, Kurojaki informs his people that now is the time to strike. They've killed several of the remaining Igas and they still have enough people to take on both the ninjas and any allies they bring with them. It's time to take the Iga homestead as their own and secure a glorious future for their breed. And as an added bonus, he thinks to himself, we can fuck up that guy who took my eye.

Hyena and John take a moment to spy on the hoard from afar. Hyena points out the big guy on the rock as Kurojaki, and it's clear as day that he's the leader of this band of hoodlums. John nods and, having learned nothing from his previous ass whooping at the hands of a pack leader, puffs out his chest and readies himself to attack.

John says he's gonna tear the whole lot to smitherines and singlehandedly lower the cannibal population in the area to 0%. Hyena tries to convince him that attacking a warlord in front of his entire legion of followers is a bad idea, but John's ego demands stroking. He's already taken off in a sprint.

The shepherd tears through several of the Kogas before they even realize what's happening. He rips the throat out of one particularly unfortunate bystander who proceeds to tumble to the ground. The miserable cur seizes wildly as he dies.

Everyone is caught so off guard by this development that they don't stop John when he walks up to the bottom of Kurojaki's perch and tells the merle cyclops that his reign of terror is over. Kurojaki has literally no idea what the fuck is going on, but he rolls with the punches and tells John that he'll be crushed like a bug before the group departs on their actual mission. Before any crushing can commence, a rumbling can be heard coming closer.

It's (predictably) the Iga and Ohu dogs. The Kogas have an Oh Shit moment before scrambling into battle position. They're a little wary of the fight given there's an absolute shittonne of dogs running towards them, but Kurojaki tells them not to be a buncha bedwetting babies and fight anyway. He passes his literal bedwetter baby son off to the boy's mother so he can join the brawl. John just shrugs and goes to attack the guy nearest to him.

As army meets army, the blood begins to flow. Despite how much larger the Ohu pack is, it's really anyone's game, for the cannibals' desperation to keep their cause alive pushes them forward. Still, the Ohu dogs are holding their own. Even Ben is managing to fight off his enemies. Unfortunately for Smith, the dane's poor vision throws a spanner in the works, and the Spaniel gets a couple of chomps on the ass. Don't worry about it, Ben, he's young. He'll heal.

As the battle grows more and more out of control, Kurojaki slinks past his men and into the woods in the hopes of baiting one particular target into following him. To his delight, that target falls into his trap; Gin notices him leaving and gives chase.

Gin's too caught up in the task at hand to notice Kurojaki's leading him on purpose, but lucky for him Kurojaki is too caught up in his own plan to notice he himself is being ambushed. Akame saw Gin following the cultist, and he's bolted out of the woods to save Gin's silver hide.

Akame smacks Kurojaki face first into the dirt and is about to give him an atomic noogie when Gin's all like WAIT. Gin lets the cat out of the bag and tells Akame he knows that Ben wants to scootch Gin up the platoon's pecking order. Gin wants to use this chance to wipe the forest floor with Kurojaki to prove that Ben's right to think that.

Akame is a touch offended that Gin's a filthy eavesdropper, but he understands his motivation. He just sorta shrugs and lets Gin face off with the warlord. Gin puts up his doggy dukes and gets the ball rolling with some fighting words.

Meanwhile, everyone else is fighting a Koga of their own and they're doing a good job of it. Even Hyena is making an honest, if hopeless, attempt at mauling one of the smaller guys. He's failing miserably when he's aided by Smith, who follows up his generously saving Hyena's life by mocking him for being a wussypants and asking him why he hasn't fucked off yet.

Hyena wants Smith and the others to appeal the No Hyenas Allowed rule of their club because he's decided to be a good guy now. Smith isn't sure if he believes him, but whatever, the traitor can serve as a canine shield if nothing else. The two continue snapping at their enemies.

As the fight rages on, John makes his presence known to the platoon by leaping beside a bloodied Ben. John manages to choke out a sincere word of praise for the other dogs' fighting abilities before more graciously humbling himself to Ben by proclaiming he's ready to fall in line with his commander's orders. Ben's newly-beshitted eyes are having a hard time recognizing John, but he'd know that stuck-up, twatty voice anywhere. He instantly welcomes the shepherd back into the fold.

Gin and Kurojaki are standing off in earnest now, but they're still not really getting anywhere. They're surprisingly well matched, Gin always managing to strike and Kurojaki always managing to either dodge or deflect. They've only faced off for a few minutes more when the rumble of a bazillion dog feet advances towards them.

The Ohu and Iga dogs have managed to subdue the Kogas and now they're bumbling towards the fighters. To make matters more dramatic, a storm has been brewing. As if called in as reinforcements a bolt of lightening strikes a nearby tree and catches it on fire. With a terrified, "Shit!" Kurojaki turns tail and runs, a frustrated Gin following behind.

But before Kurojaki can run very far, someone calls down to him from above. He breaks stride and looks up. It's Wilson, finally appearing onscreen again for the first time in a while. His long, white muzzle is rippled in a snarl, and he calls Kurojaki a gutless coward for abandoning his men. And it's not just his men he's abandoned. Has he really forgotten about...

...his own son? Wilson suddenly lifts a small, mottled bundle of fur into view. It's Kurojaki's infant child, and he's crying with fright. Though Kurojaki cannot see it, Maya's body is lying beside Wilson as well, her neck broken and twisted at an ugly angle.

Gin freezes and looks on in horror, as do the other soldiers who come to a stop beside him. Everyone wants to stop this but they're too stunned to speak. The sky rumbles as if angry, lightening flashing and illuminating Wilson's spiteful white face.

"T-tesshin!" Kurojaki cries in recognition. "My boy! What are you doing with my boy?!"

"Can a fucking demon like you truly feel love for a child?" Wilson wonders aloud. "You certainly didn't show any mercy towards mine. You've never understood the horror of what you did, but now you will. I'll make you see. I'll make you pay."

Wilson begins to shake Tesshin back and forth by his tiny grey scruff. A sickening chorus of wails and squeals comes from the baby. The other soldiers are appaled by Wilson's vengeance, as is a now very desperate Kurojaki. The Koga master begins climbing uphill after Wilson, his paws splayed far out in front of him as if trying to grasp for his son.

"Stop!" Kurojaki wails desperately. "Please, please stop!"

For the first (and last) time ever both the Ohu and Iga soldiers are in agreement with Kurojaki. They also call out for Wilson to put the child down. Gin feels helpless to stop this injustice. It's cut him to the quick more then any adult dog's endangerment has yet to. Ben tries to reason with Wilson to stop, but he's distracted by Cross. She's quaking with some overpowering emotion that's not exactly anger and not exactly fear.

Kurojaki nears the hilltop as Wilson's swinging quickens and he jostles Tesshin around like a ragdoll. The Koga leaps with an enraged roar at the Collie when suddenly the two of them are joined by Cross. Before any of them can acknowledge her, Kurojaki collides with Wilson without thinking to stop and sends both the collie and his son tumbling off the hill's edge.

Kuroj screams in horror as he sees both Wilson and the baby descend into the dark gorge below, and the army dogs join his yelling as Cross mounts the hill and descends down into the dark behind them.

The wind blows mournfully as Kurojaki stands mouth agape on the hill, staring into the black pit with his remaining eye. So busy was he with his child that he has only now noticed his wife's bloody corpse sprawled beside him. His eye fills with tears.

But the tears evaporate quickly as he's taken by an overpowering fury. He turns to the stunned soliders and swears at them, damns each and every one of them for bringing his wife and child into this. He will singlehandedly kill them all.

In a (half) blind rage, Kurojaki flings himself headlong into the gaping crowd. First he tears into the massive Moss. Then he slashes Akatora up the shoulder, gives John a concussion, brings Ben to his knees, bam, bam, bam.

So powerful is his rage that one would think he's about to make good on his promise of Ohu decimation, and for the first time the soldiers and their newfound allies start backing away from their foe. All except Gin, ofc, whose protagonist moral code is preventing him from faltering.

Kurojaki's all too willing to beat Gin's ass for causing just about every bad thing in his life lately, so he runs at Gin with reckless abandon. Both he and the Akita leap at each other. A shooting star's comet trail follows Gin's arch in the sky.

The symbolism of it is enough to trigger a convenient, empowering flashback in Gin's mind of his maybe-probably-mostly-confirmed-not-dead father defending baby Gin from Akakabuto. He remembers Riki's signature bear-hunting move, a hard bite to the top of the animal's muzzle. Thinking fast, Gin performs this move on the murderous merle mongrel flying towards him.

This catches Kurojaki by surprise just long enough for Gin to rabbit kick the shinobi bastard into the dirt, bloodying both it and his foe's face in the process. Gin lands back on Earth with an equally small amount of grace by spraining every ankle he's got upon landing. He plops down onto his stomach and quivers as his muscles relax, and Kurojaki has been knocked down hard enough that he's not yet making an effort to get up.

The other dogs run forward, panting congrats to Gin for being so awesome and stuff before they move to descend on their enemy.

John makes himself known to Gin a second later when he's like whoa hold up everyone lmao chill, this is Gin's battle and he should be allowed to finish the dude off himself. Gin's just now realized John's returned, but before he can say HUH WHAT John tells him to handle business before he's offered an explanation. Already feeling a bit overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation, Gin turns at a familiar female voice telling everyone to hold their horses.

It's Cross! She's holding a fussy but living Tesshin in her jaws. Beside her is a battered, humiliated looking Wilson. The Collie sways unsurely, totally unwilling to hold anyone's gaze.

While Wilson wallows in his post-attempted infanticide guilt, Cross sets the child down. Kurojaki is a total sack of shit, she says, but he's still this little guy's dad and only remaining parent. This decision can't be made lightly because it will always come back around to affect the kid.

Gin takes this as a chance to stall on his decision and runs over to Cross, overjoyed to see she's still alive. Cross, looking even more tired then you'd expect, gives him a coy wink. She's told him before she has a soft spot for kids, yeah? After all, she's always believed they have the potential to be better then their parents. As she says this she allows Tesshin to toddle up to his daddy and lick his bloody nose.

But it's still ultimately up to Gin whether or not Kurojaki lives or dies. The decision weighs heavily on the kid. Yeah, Kuro is a violent murderer, a cult leader, an advocate of genocide, and an all around assclown, but watching Tesshin lick his deadly dad's face with unconditional affection awakens something in Gin.

He can't shake the memories of his own puppyhood. He was taken too early from his mother and only ever got to be held by his father once before he was forever stripped of the chance to have a peaceful childhood. He's steadfast in his decision to be with these soldiers, but can he truly say he's comfortable subjecting another child to the loss of their innocence?

"Kurojaki," Gin starts. The cannibal king meets Gin's gaze with his single eye. "Get out of here. Take your people with you. Don't ever come back."

Kurojaki understands this is the only chance he's got to leave, so he picks his sorry ass up and leaps with a noticable decrease in elegance into the trees. All he leaves behind him is a puddle of nose blood... and his infant son. Tesshin simply sits beside his papa's nose goo and yips pitifully, too small to understand he's been ditched but having enough cognition to know neither mommy or daddy are with him and he's frightened.

"Miserable piece of shit didn't want the kid as bad as we though," Kurotora grumbles.

The others in the crowd can't help but agree. Some of them believe it's time to kill Kurojaki after all, but Gin tells them to lay off. This whole debacle has been a real fuck of a shit and more unnecessary casualties are only going to make things worse. So long as Kurojaki actually fucks off once and for all, that's all that needs to happen.

A new discussion begins about what's to be done with the baby when the Kai Bros finally take notice of Hyena. Akame thoughtfully dashes off elsewhere as the tiger-striped trio start telling the grey-haired square to get the hell outta here. John breaks up the bloodthirsty posse by explaining that Hyena's lowkey alright actually. John's elaboration on his experience in these woods and his opinion about the Weimaraner doesn't mean much to the Kais given they've never met him before, but Gin helpfully explains that John's an old friend of his who's come to join their ranks.

He gives John a warm, appreciative smile. For a moment he looks very much like the boss smiling proudly at all his troops. John's brow is furrowed as per ush, but he can't help but smile softly back.

But John quickly wipes the smile off his face and gets back to business. Yeah, sorry about leaving the pack initially and all, but he had a bit of self discovery to do. Ya see, John went and battled with the boss. Surprised at his insolence, he's now got the attention of everybody there.

Anyway, John tried to beat the leader into submission, but he failed spectacularly and for the first time he can remember. The experience taught him something he's still too proud to state clearly, but the important thing is that it motivated him to come back. Oh, btw, the big guy himself has a message to share, generously saving the audience from further elaboration on events they've seen take place:

Akakabuto's stronghold is expanding further, and, though on a forgivingly smaller scale then the Ohu dogs, he is also attempting to grow an army of followers. The sonuvabitch may be a horrifying monster, but he ain't fuckin' stupid. He is aware that a massive hoard of dogs are coming to get him, so he's setting up counter measures to stay one step ahead of them. The troops have to hurry and expand their numbers fast, for the battle is rapidly approaching. It's only a matter of time before Akakabuto and his bears begin overtaking human settlements.

This is all well and good, like thanks for the update and all, but everyone becomes distracted by the unmistakable smell of shit burnin' down. Cross is the first to notice the orange-gold light and incredible heat illuminating the woods beyond. The dogs rush over to see what exactly is happening.

It's the Iga manor. The ancient house is quickly going up in flames, much to everyone's surprise. Even more Nani? inducing is the culprit of the mansion toasting himself, Akame.

The Kishu is standing unwavering in front of the burning building. He's grasping a burning tree branch in his mouth, no doubt having gotten it from the tree that had previously been smoldering. The night sky is alight with storm and flame alike as Akame's children run up to him and ask him what the fuck he's done.

Turns out Akame's just tired of the bullshit. He's tired of constantly having to hold off the violent cannibals they have as neighbors. He's tired of living separate from those who could serve as close allies and true friends. He's tired of leading his sons and daughters into battles they cannot win.

Fuck the house, Akame's turning a new leaf. From now on he'll be dedicating his power to the Ohu army's cause and he encourages the remaining Igas to come with. At least then their ability to whoop ass will be useful beyond gang wars.

"Akame!" a ragged voice hollers from somewhere in the woods. "You little coward!"

Everyone looks. It's Kurojaki, his mottled fur caked in dry blood, his single eye bulging. He runs over to the Igas but he doesn't make as if to attack them. Instead, he just keeps yelling, his thoughts spilling like vomit from his mouth.

Akame just HAS to be this extra, doesn't he? First Kurojaki loses his wife. Then his own child is used to humiliate him. And now Akame is burning down the one solace he had left, swiftly destroying his life's mission of overtaking the manor. With one last gibbered out swear Kurojaki leaps into the burning house.

The smell of roasted kindling is quickly laced with, then overpowered by, the stench of burning hair and melting flesh. Kurojaki screams bloody murder as the flames engulf him. Gin gazes into the abyss of Kurojaki's one eye before it pops, bubbles, and oozes down his cheek, its gooey remains soon joined by his eyebrows and the last fringes of his white mohawk. Despite his agony the mongrel makes no effort to escape the flames, instead collapsing without struggle on the immolated wooden floor.

If this whole sight wasn't fucked enough, a whole chorus of desperate cries also approach the house. It's several of the remaining Kogas all hollering out to their leader. Loyalty may be a virtue, but the outpouring of devotion from the cult leads each and every one of the mohawked dogs to leap into the flames alongside their master.

Upon realizing the hoard won't stop making like they're campfire marshmallows, Gin tries to stop them. He's just shoved out of the way. The only Koga who neither leaps into the flames or runs away is baby Tesshin. Instead the child begins nestling into, oddly enough, Wilson's ankle as he watches his family burn to death.

Akame squints into the flames as the Kogas' agonized screams fade away. The cloudy night sky finally starts drip dropping rain down on the scene and working quickly to extinguish the house. Once the flames have subsided everyone gathers to stare into the wreckage.

Gin takes the first step into the charred remains of the manor. The blackened, crumbling corpses of so many canines litter the floor. Gin hasn't felt like crying this much since his first beating from Gohei, but something physically holds him back. He lip trembles as he looks from the bodies to Akame.

Despite everything the shithead put him through, Akame, with poise unmatched by anyone on Earth, respectfully wishes that Kurojaki and his people could have dedicated themselves to a cause that wasn't so heinous. He also wishes that they may now rest in peace. Many years of anguish and war have lead up to this point, but if nothing else it served to prove that Kurojaki had a lotta resolve.

Now that nobody's gonna come in the middle of the night and kill them dead the group allows themselves to settle in and get some shut eye. Everyone is curling up beside each other when Wilson awkwardly walks up to the hoard. Tiny little Tesshin follows behind him.

Wilson seems especially interested in speaking with Gin, who is nestled in between Ben and Cross. While the Collie coyly bows respectfully to Gin, Tesshin recognizes Cross and runs to her so he can tug on her ears.

Wilson apologizes for the whole almost-committing-infantacide thing. He's deeply ashamed of how low he stooped to strike back against his Kurojaki. Now that he's gotten to see him die in literally the most painful way possible, Wilson hasn't got any ill will towards any Kogas anymore, least of all the only truly innocent one. He accepts that what he did was super shitty even if he'd been blinded by immense grief. He wants to do right and contribute to something that matters, so he'd like to know if everyone - Ben, Cross, Gin - would allow him to stay with the pack.

Nobody responds for a moment, though Gin makes as if he wants to say something. Instead the first to speak is Cross. She tells Wilson that despite the immorality of his behavior she understands his pain. She takes a deep breath and places her paw over Ben's, which seems to have signaled him to lean soothingly against her. Cross begins explaining to Wilson - and Gin, just cause he's there - what her life was like before she joined the Ohu army.

Cross was, as most of the folks here were, a hunting dog. She met Akakabuto once or twice out in the wild, but it took her a while to stand off against him in earnest. Before then she had been bred to another Saluki (Ben politely doesn't say anything to this) and had a litter of puppies. She was blessed with the chance to raise and live with her children into their early adult years, but this is Ginga so her backstory wouldn't have been brought up if it'd stayed idyllic forever.

Her master brought her and her 2 year old children along on a hunt one day when the group was met with the pants-shittingly horrifying sight that is Akakabuto. The bear struck one of Cross's sons across the face, snapping his neck and killing him instantly. Cross and her other children tried to defend themselves and their owner, but one by one her kids were brutally murdered.

The only reason Cross herself survived was because when Akakabuto struck her across the back - the thing that left the scars she bears to this day - she took a fall so hard that she couldn't get up and he believed her to be dead.

All throughout this battle Cross and her kids had been looking desperately to their master for help, but he never given it. While they'd tried to defend the man with their lives, he had been running away and leaving them for dead.

Akakabuto eventually grew bored of the dead dogs and left them behind. When she felt some degree of safe, Cross had crawled over to each of her children's corpses and wept into them.

For a while Cross had nothing much to live for. She didn't care about her owner anymore - in fact, she hated just about the whole of humanity at this point sans one human child who had once fed her while she was wandering aimlessly - and her children were all dead. The only thing that kept her going was her hatred for Akakabuto, her burning desire to see him pay for what he'd done to her.

But she had never been a stray before, and despite her strength it was hard to make ends meet. She barely ate enough to fill a cavity most days and she was quickly growing weak, emaciated, and depressed. She'd felt like giving up.

It was around this point when a red and white Akita Inu had found her. At first she had been afraid of him given he was a wild-looking, battlescarred character with an unreadable face, but he'd shown her a kindness she hadn't felt for a long time. He'd lead her back to his pack, an impressively large collective of other former hunting dogs, and told them that she was their guest. They were to treat her with kindness and feed her back to health before letting her go.

The soldiers were mostly nice to her, if a bit awkward regarding her emotional state. Most of them were dudes and the chicks in the bunch were more about biting and killing then offering any TLC. There was one dog who was especially kind to her, though. His name was Ben (Ben smiles and twitches his ears at the mention of his name), and he was an extremely noble, involved dog who lead the first platoon. She and him instantly clicked, and so they became fast friends.

Cross quickly regained her lost weight and, with Ben's help, regained her lost muscle mass... and then some! So grateful was she for both Ben's kindness and the boss's generosity that she insisted she stay with the pack. She humbly requested membership to the first platoon, promising that she could keep up with the others. She even offered to train under Ben's supervision if need be.

The leader had smiled at her and responded with a gentle nod and a twinkle in his eye. The rest, as they say, is history.

So engrossed in Cross's story was Gin that he'd barely noticed when Wilson laid down beside them. He also didn't really notice when Ben told Wilson that he was welcome so long as he used violence as a means of achieving peace, not as a means of releasing his anger. Nor did he notice when Tesshin wobbled over to Moss and his son and was happily invited to spend the night tucked between the pudgy Mastiff's enormous paws.

But he does notice when Cross winks at him and tucks herself tightly against her doghusband, and he takes this as a sign that storytime is over.

Gin settles in beside his friends to sleep, now better understanding the depth of their devotion. As he dozes he imagines Riki (or, at least, the dog who looks a shittonne like Riki) offering shelter to a boney Cross, training up gentle giant Ben, and lovingly smiling down from his perch at his ever-growing pack.

He imagines the Riki Dog smiling down at him, too, and reaching out a paw to him. Before he can imagine himself touching paws with the boss he fades into a deep, dreamless sleep.

At the buttcrack of dawn the troops head out. They're now joined by John, Wilson, the remaining Igas, and even Kurojaki's little son (who Moss has begun happily carrying around in between the folds on his back). The mission to find more soldiers continues on, and all the dogs begin the journey southward to scope out more canine meatheads for their cause.

Bust out the water wings, folks, because the troops are headed to the seaside. Gin's never seen the ocean before, so he's super weirded out by so much water in one place. John considerably refrains from mocking him for not  knowing what the sea is and explains that crossing the ocean is necessary to reach different countries. Given that John once lived in some mysterious land called Your Up, Gin takes his word for it.

The gang boards an abandoned ship half submerged in the ocean. Gin takes a chance to gaze over the edge and into the water below. His eyes sparkle with curiosity as the waves wash to and fro before the boat.

His gaze follow the waves as they go out and out and out further and further away, the expanse of water stretching out miles ahead. Also miles ahead is a mass of land that looks no larger then a grain of rice. Gin excitedly calls out that he's found a foreign country.

Wilson politely tells Gin that he's got a good eye, but that's not a foreign country. It's just Shikoku. Ole Willy used to travel there frequently during his circus days, and it's also where he met nomadic Mortal Enemy #2.

Before Wilson has a chance to elaborate, Ben interrupts. He closes his foggy eyes and takes in the sounds of the waves before saying that yeah, Shikoku's pretty lit. Lotsa bodybuilder types over there, dogs specifically bred and raised for battle. This fills Gin with the sort of glee that'd seem excessive in a hyperactive schoolgirl. Gin begs the dane to let him go on a field trip to Battle Dog Island.

Everything is a blurry mass of God-knows-what in Ben's eyes, but even he can tell Shikoku is a long ways away. He asks how exactly Gin plans on getting there, to which Gin responds with, "Swimming, of course." This is foolish, obviously, as doggy paddling that far through these waters would be impossible. Ben kindly but firmly tells Gin that he'll be just as much help in gathering troops here.

Ben turns with a degree of finality back into the captain's quarters, his face turning redder then normal as he bonks his muzzle into the doorframe. Despite his upset at being denied permission to abandon ship Gin follows after him in concern when Wilson calls him back.

He tells Gin that he's sorry the kid can't come, but Ben knows best. Gin disagrees - he HAS to go. It's his duty to take Ben's place on the trip, for the newly disabled dog won't make it very far in these conditions.

Several of the dogs seem confused about what this means before Gin passes around volume 3 of the manga and catches them up to speed on how Ben's poisoning has started sapping away his sight. As some of them "ohhhhhhhh" in realization, Smith chimes in with a haven't you people ever heard of not leaving the commander of a platoon behind.

John insists that Gin's a tough cookie, perfect to take Ben's place. So long as he has his immaculate bestie beside him, ofc. He'll be going with Gin, too. Not wanting to be left out, Smith also insists on going. So do the Kai Bros. So does Wilson.

Cross looks as if she wants to say something, but she restrains herself. Gin notices and asks her if she'd like to Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake. She unconvincingly says she'd love to but she can't leave Ben alone in his condition. It's pretty obvious she's keeping something from everyone, but before they can pry she trots off to join Ben in his quarters.

Smith mutters about how he thinks Cross has been looking a little differently lately but he can't quite put his paw on how. Gin doesn't say anything. Instead he just watches her leave.

Nighttime comes right on schedule. The Ohu dogs are sprawled across the poopdeck, pooped from their travels. Most of them are asleep, but some are only pretending to snooze.

Gin is one of those fakers. He slowly and quietly gathers the other pretenders to join him towards the front of the ship. He has a moment of hesitation before leaping into the water when he sees how aggressive the waves are tonight, but he tries not to show any doubt. This has to be done.

Just before he's about to go, the ever-so-gentle scrapping of claws on wood directs his attention behind him. The gathered gang looks back and sees the Igas are also awake and eager to join them.

Akame feels it's his responsibility to lighten Ben's load in this regard. He'll be leaving the near-sighted dog in the care of Papa Moss. Besides, God only knows what the dogs in Shikoku are like, so why not bring a ninja along just in case? Finally satisfied with the group's size, everyone gathers their courage and jumps into the ocean.

Huge black and blue waves toss the dogs around as they struggle to stay afloat. Smith hesitates at the boat's edge upon realizing what sorta Jackass stunt they're pulling here, but he can't back out now. He gives a loud squeak as he cannonballs into the water.

John's rolling his eyes and mocking Smith's masculinity from the boat when he realizes that he can see a pair of eyes glimmer from nearby. Someone is awake and moving towards them! "Oh shit," John manages as he leaps gracefully in after the others.

Turns out that the nosy parker was just Cross. Upon seeing everyone abandon ship she comes trotting, then running, to the deck's edge. She can just make out the shining wet fur of the dogs in the ocean. She hopes aloud that they'll make it.

A confused, groggy voice from behind her catches her attention. She turns to see that Ben has woken up. Moss is trailing behind, a still snoozing Tesshin draped across his broad forehead. Ben asks Cross what she's doing awake. All is still. The silence speaks volumes, and Ben realizes that Gin has taken off in one of his hare-brained schemes again. Cross is about to defend the kid's decision when Ben sorta just shrugs and sighs.

Ben figures that when someone like Gin gets an idea in his head, he won't abandon it. He'll either learn his lesson the hard way or live to do them all a great service, and Gin's proven time and time again he's not likely to up and die on them. Besides, the dane admits, he kinda wanted to ask Gin to ride (swim?) shotgun anyway, but he couldn't justify asking the youngest troop to do it. Though Ben can't see the dogs swim away he still looks out towards the sea.

The dogs swim for a longass time, paddling in their namesakeway as the waves threaten to toss them into space. Shikoku both is and isn't as far away as they imagined, and this eats away at their patience while they grow more and more tired. Gin is capable of leading the charge given his childhood waterboardings but he's also losing steam.

The only thing keeping him moving is the sliver of moonlight above. When the partial moon is intercepted by the clouds, the shape it forms bears resemblance to Riki's silhouette atop his Throne Hill. Gin can't let the big man down.

After a while the dogs come across a reprieve from their struggle: a tiny island, little more then a small hunk of muddy, sandy land sticking up out the water. Shikoku isn't much further now, but the whole lot is swung out. There's just enough room on the puny isle to allow everyone refuge for the night.

The dogs all adorably snuggle up beside each other to keep warm against the cold ocean winds. As Gin rests his head across John's shoulders he takes one last peek at the moon. The Riki Clouds have vanished. He just sighs and closes his eyes.

Night turns to day and things are getting interesting in Shikoku. A nationwide dog fighting tournament is in full swing, making everyone reading this instantly a little less comfortable. In this particular fight, two Tosa dogs named Niouryu ("Nio dragon") and Musashi ("master warrior") are duking it out to a screaming crowd of weirdos who like watching dogs sumo wrestle.

Musashi's gotten the drop on Niouryu and is clearly winning via attempted strangulation. For the sake of saving Niouryu's life and so as I never have to write that name again, the fight is broken up and Musashi is declared winner.

This is very exciting news for the Musashi fans in the crowd because it means that the dude has won the Dog Wrastling championship for the 2nd year in a row. True, he's working his way up from middleweight to heavyweight, but this ain't no small potatoes. Musashi's unmatched prowess is celebrated as he is donned in traditional championship garb. The dog proudly holds his scarred head high as he gazes wistfully into the distance. His nose twitches as he detects something strange on the wind.

Musashi's trainer takes him back to his kennel alongside several other competitors. All of the dogs, Mushie Boy included, begin barking, seemingly alerted to something nearby. Musashi's trainer doesn't know what to make of this so he leaves the kennel to go snooping around in the hopes of finding the source of the dogs' intruige.

Unseen to all but the fighters' noses, the Ohu dogs reveal that they've made it to Shikoku by posing mysteriously atop the high stone wall surrounding the kennels. Gin gazes down at Musashi. They GOTTA get this guy to join the army.

The Ohu dogs climb down from the wall and disappear into the nearby woods until the sun begins to set and all the humans are gone. The kennel dogs have just settled in when the same smell from before recaptures their interest. Musashi growls but refrains from barking when he sees three synchronized silhouettes approach his cage.

"Who is it? Who's there?" Musashi says with all the confidence of a lion who's punched God to death.

The shadows whisper in low voices that that's not important right now. What is important is that Musashi agrees to come with.

Musashi doesn't feel like missing bedtime so he tells them to fuck off. One of the silhouettes, the one missing an ear, tells him that if he doesn't willingly join their canine convoy they're gonna force him to. Musashi demonstrates that this is an incredibly stupid thing to say to a fighting champion in a way that surprises the trio. He knows how to open his kennel and he's feeling cranky. He grabs the one eared dog as the stripey group tries to scatter.

Luckily for the Kai Kens the other kennel dogs are barking up a storm, all jerring and yelling FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT. This noise would serve only as an irritant if it didn't cause someone, a human, to call out in confusion. A light inside a nearby building turns on.

Moments later the circular beam of a flashlight can be seen from the other side of the yard. Musashi has an Oh Shit moment and releases the dog he's holding. He tells the three that he's impressed by their ballsiness, but if they wanna live to see another day they need to pound pavement.

The dogs seem less afraid of Musashi's threats then they do of the man with the light. As the man calls out to the dogs the three brindles scramble out of the yard, each making a beeline for the treeline. Once he's certain they've left, Musashi meekly sits down and waits for his master to come find him. The man joins him within a moment and scoffs, scolds Musashi for breaking out again, and finally leads the dog back to his kennel.

The Kai Bros (btw it was so obviously the Kai Bros who came aknocking on Musashi's door) start heading back into the forest, kicking pebbles in their path and muttering about how it sucks ass that they didn't successfully kidnap someone to fight a war with them. As Chutora and Kurotora begin detailing just how much ass the situation sucks, Akatora tells them to shut their yapholes and hide. Someone - a LOT of someones, it smells like - are following them. The brothers dive into the bushes.

An asstonne of quadrapedal silhouettes dot the hills nearby. The strangers smell unfamiliar and are poised as if they mean business so Akatora tells everyone to head back to Gin. His littermates start whining about how running away isn't very cash money of them but Akatora nips them on the backsides to move them along. By this point he wouldn't have needed to put tooth to butt. The pack has descended from their vantage point and is headed straight for them.

The trio takes off in a gallop as tens of angry looking dogs, all barking and yelling for the intruders to stop, give chase. Kurotora's got a terrible Napoleon complex going on so he gives up running and instead tries to fight some of the dogs away. This backfires phenominally badly because the pack swiftly overpowers him, then overpowers his bros when they come running to his defense. Manly, agonized screams ring out in the night.

Somewhere insultingly close by Gin and his coterie have noticed the commotion. John proposes that sending the most overzealous and tactless of them to convince a champion fighter to leave his home wasn't a great decision. Though Gin realizes he fucked up by doing this, he's too proud to show the embarassment he feels for his idea. Instead he just tells everyone they oughta go see what the screaming's for so as to make sure they're not down three soldiers.

The troops head deeper into the forest, each keeping their eyes peeled and ears open to see if they can find the disappeared brothers. The Igas try to contribute to the search by leaping through the trees and ahead of the pack. The thick smell of an unfamiliar group lingers in the air, but no one can be seen.

No, wait, there is someone there. A sliver of moon shine casts a dim spotlight over a muscular dog carrying something red and black and striped all over. It's Musashi! He's got a concerned look on his face and a busted up Akatora stretched across his back.

"I'm guessing the Kai brothers didn't convince you to come peacefully?" Smith asks, the urge to alleviate the situational tension clouding his manners.

Musashi shrugs and allows Akatora to slip from his shoulders and onto the ground. Gin quickly looks over the Kai Ken as John snaps at Musashi for doing this to their friend. Musashi's eyes grow wide and spiteful. He tells the dogs to lay off for chrissakes. Believe it or don't, he's here to help. Akatora agrees in a choked voice; Musashi rescued him when he was too injured to save his brothers.

Gin asks Musashi to explain what the shit's happening so the Fite Club veteran lays it all out. The triplets were attacked by a pack that lives in these here parts, a pack that's lead by a dastardly bastard whos exploits encourage gossip even among the most seasoned of fighting dogs. This aforementioned bastard goes by Bandit Bill, and he's a notoriously brutal brown doberman who lives in an abandoned Buddhist shrine. He's a territorial sort and was probably upset that a buncha insolent strays came piddlefarting around his domain.

Before Musashi goes on about Billy the Kid he gives a broken smile and says he'd gone to follow the obnoxious brothers upon realizing that they might have ties to the giant army of dogs that's been growing and moving across Japan. Gin gapes, somehowhaving been oblivious to how a nomadic collective of dedicated troops might catch the populace's attention.

Musashi states that he's glad the army seems real because it means he can be flattered at how they've come to recruit him. Bee tee dubbya, he's totally down to join them. He's been a fighting dog long enough for it to get dull. The old man is ready to live out the rest of his life as one big adventure.

A second later a white dog drops down from the trees. It's Akame here to say that he and the other fair furred folk have managed to locate Chutora and Kurotora. The good news is that they're still alive. The bad news is that they're in front of a weird, ancient looking monument swarming with buff-looking dogs. Musashi confirms that that's Bill's pad, though he doesn't understand why Bill would keep trespassers around instead of just killing them.

Gin immediately announces a rescue mission. Musashi tells everyone to hold their horses. He's gonna go home and bring back his posse to help sort this out. Bill isn't a bloodthirsty idiot - standing in front of him isn't a death sentence - but he needs to know these guys have backup. It'd also be easier for locals to get information outta him  as opposed to new guys from across the sea. Better to talk then fight, yeah?

Musashi departs while warning the troops that it'll be a hot minute before he busts open all the kennels at home, but he swears he'll be back by morning. Given there's not much they can do til Musashi gets back, the dogs set up camp for the night. The night seemingly passes without incident, and the crowing of a rooster can be heard as the sun rises.

Wait, did I say rooster? Oopsie! I meant Smith starts shrieking to the other soldiers that OH SHIT, GIN IS MISSING. John wakes with a start at his friend's name, and as soon as he's truly concious there's no doubt in his mind as to where Gin is.

Predictably Gin has run off to solve this problem by himself. Only this time he has a moment of self reflection. He realizes aloud that he very often ends up helping, yes, but he also has the habit of tying situations in big, complicated knots by making decisions on the fly... just like he's doing right now.

And yet he can't say he feels remorse for it. He doesn't have the time to. He needs to save his friends. He needs to prove himself to Ben. He needs to do this to protect the village, the people, his family, his Daisuke.

The ancient monument, Bill's Bandit Bed-n-Breakfast, is lookin' pretty eerie in the shady woods. The only thing that makes the dark, imposing forest more intimidating is the two dog heads sticking out of the dirt smack dab in the middle of the monument's front yard. It's Chutora and Kurotora, and both are exhausted from struggling to escape their halfassed graves. A deep, slimy voice cackles triumphantly as something lithe, black, and endlessly shitty exits the building.

It's General Sniper! The bastard merrily licks his lips as he watches the Kais struggle to free themselves from the Earth's unwelcome hug. Mr. S is just about to go on about how great he is or some shit when a dog from Bill's pack, one who had totalled the Kai Bros, runs into view and tells him there's an issue. They have a visitor, someone none of Bill's crew has ever seen before. Sniper runs to the arch out front.

Gin's parked his little silver ass just in front of the arch and is refusing to explain to any of Bill's soldiers why he's here until he has council with Billiam The Bad Guy himself.

"I am a representative of the leader of Ohu," he says in the deepest voice he can muster, "and I shall tell you no more. Please allow me to speak to your boss."

"Oh, no, I don't think that's going to happen," Sniper says snidely.

Gin is surprised to see the hoodlum here, but Sniper doesn't explain himself. Instead, his brow crinkles cruelly as he repeats what Gin said: so, he's here to rep for Ohu, huh? Got himself a promotion, ey? How charming.

Sniper turns to Bill's men and explains that this stupid kid's boss is a tyrant trying to take over Shikoku's prime real estate, ignoring Gin's protests and cries of What The Hell Dude. Bill's men approach Gin to tackle him, but Gin leaps past them before they can.

Gin continues to frog-hop his way onto the front lawn where he's shocked to find two of his compadres buried alive. Little Chu and Kuro, Too yell at him to get out, it's a trap! But Gin's too stubborn to listen. He ignores their pleading begins trying to dig them out instead.

While Gin is distracted, Sniper launches himself into the Akita and sends him flying. Gin quickly rights himself, his nose bleeding, and swears aloud while telling Sniper it's unsportsmanlike to strike from behind. The little German chickenshit better be ready to fight because his treason will not go unpunished.

Sniper yells a barrage of death threats at Gin as if all of Twitter is rushing through his veins when he hears one of Bill's men call for everyone to retreat. Sniper looks up and dumbly utters a confused "Huh?". The Ohu dogs have caught up to Gin, and they're here to stop this madness!

Sniper tells Bill's troops not to puss out of a fight. They've got enough dogs to rival these suckers. The troops comply and the fur starts to fly. For a moment it seems like the Ohu dogs will be able to swiftly end this battle. Unfortunately, they lose the upper hand just as swiftly.

Sniper has made his way over to Kurotora and he's got his fangs pressed up against the black brindle's jugular. He mumbles through a mouthful of dog neck that the Ohu folks must surrender to The Bill Brigade or else he'll start killing the helpless hostages. Gin blurts out for the Ohu dogs to stop fighting without a second thought. Sniper responds by telling his ex-army not to move or else the stripey guy gets it.

Bill's fighters take this as a chance to start beating the shit outta the now motionlss soldiers. Gin's eyes fill with tears of frustration and realization at the severity of the impossible situation before them. Before anyone can die, however, someone else comes in and smacks Sniper so hard he flies back a few feet.

It's another Doberman, a brown and tan one with sunken eyes. This other pinscher says in a deep, silken voice that Sniper can kindly fuck off with this sadism. Bandit Bill can handle his own intruders, thank you very much. Besides, he doesn't believe in killing for the fun of it. If Sniper wants to be his right-hand man he needs to respect the rules of Bill's domain.

Sniper half-snarls, half-whines to Bill about how all is fair in love and war. Gin tells his cliche ass to shut up because the Ohu lads aren't here to fight. They're here to ask for help.

Before any more nonsense can go down someone calls ahoy from the arch. It's Musashi! The big man has kept true to his word and has brought tens of his fighting buds with him, many more dogs then the Ohu guys knew lived in his kennel. Indeed a small army of Tosas trail behind Musashi-sama as he steps up to greet Bill.

Mushmush asks in the voice of a gossiping old biddy if Billy has heard of these guys. They're bear hunters with good intentions, ya know. Bill says that yeah, he's heard about the bear stuff, but their former general here has a different story to tell.

Gin insists Sniper is a big fat stupid ugly liar. They're not here to steal land or dominate Shikoku or whatever, they deadass just need soldiers for their cause. Musashi interjects by saying he's not one to get involved in work place drama. To him it seems the real issue is that Gin and Sniper need to settle a beef they've been fostering. Bill appreciates the sentiment (as well as any chance he gets to watch a good fight), so he agrees. Let these two handle this shit the old fashioned way: with tooth and nail.

Gin licks the tacky, drying blood from his nose and dives at Sniper so as to get this party started. Sniper catches him off guard and sends him flying into a tree's trunk. Gin starts scrambling to his feet but he's not quick enough to dodge Sniper snagging him by the scruff of the neck. John almost rushes forward to intervene when Akame restrains him and assures him that they can save Gin if it comes to it, but they'd better hang back in case they upset Bill.

Sniper wildly moves his jaw around and leaves big bloody slashes across Gin's neck, his teeth fumbling around the kid's collar. Realizing he can't tear Gin's throat out with the big leather slab in the way, Sniper has another idea. He tells everyone to watch what happens when you fuck with Mr. S as he gives Gin's neck a hard squeeze and an even harder twist. All the dogs gape in horror as they hear a bizarre, powerful snap. Sniper releases his grip on Gin's neck and the Akita tumbles to the dirt.

John swears loudly. He wastes no time in detailing how he's gonna shove Sniper's ass down his throat when a weak cough makes everyone aware that Gin is still moving. Even Sniper is surprised as the dogs watch Gin hobble to his feet.

Blood is oozing from Gin's clearly not-broken neck. Just before one can say "wait so like what happened", Gin's leather collar slips off his shoulders and hits the ground with a small thump. A white tear in the leather ring explains the strange breaking noise.

For just a second Gin is lost in the memory of when he was given the collar. It wasn't Gohei who'd bestowed it upon him. It had been Diasuke. The boy had said that it had once been worn by Gin's dad, which may or may not have just been a cover for a convenient purchase from Pet Smart. Regardless, Gin silently thanks Daisuke for giving him protection he didn't even know he had, and he thanks God himself for giving him the massive muscles he needs to tear Sniper a new one.

And tear he does, for he begins giving this asslancing all he's got. He runs rings around Sniper, leaps down upon him from the trees, and finishes off his display of hypermasculinity by swinging the Doberman from a hind leg until the pitiful would-be dictator cries out for him to stop.

Gin does indeed stop, but not without placing a humilation cherry on this assbeating sundae. He swings the pinscher into a branch of a tree. When he lets go all can see that Sniper's dangling from the branch by his spiked collar.

"Shit! Damnit!" Sniper howls, defeated. "Let me down! Someone let me down!" But nobody comes to his aid. Either they're too stunned or, like Smith, are laughing at the ridiculous sight. Bill takes Sniper's dangling very seriously, though, and he calls up to Sniper that he's ashamed to be the same breed as him. Then he turns to Musashi with a smile. He would be giving a slow, polite clap if he had hands.

Gin relishes the moment by boldly telling Sniper to never show his ugly mug again because he's the one dog alive, the one dog in the whole world, who Gin will never forgive. The youngin gives the stuck up commander one last chance to fuck off and live peacefully elsewhere. Sniper only responds with more swearing and even more desperate pleas for help.

Gin thanks Musashi for his backup. He's about to thank Bill too when the Doberman takes a step back. Oh no, he's not getting buddy-buddy with anyone yet.

Musashi looks like he's about to roll up his non-existant sleeves and convince Bill otherwise when the dobie explains: Bill would like to meet this Ohu Boss guy himself before deciding if he's gonna join anyone else's army. He's willing to go with, but no promises on whether or not he'll be killing any bears.

Gin figures this is as good as it's gonna get, so he nods and welcomes Bill into the fold. John playfully elbows Gin in the side. This is all well and good, but it's about time to get back to Ben, yeah?

Before everyone can start planning the cruise back, Musashi stops them and gives them a tip. There's an even stronger dog who lives out here, some dude who's rumored to be the strongest in the world. The Ohu troops look intrigued. Some of them excitedly ask Gin if he'd like to meet this superdog. Of course Gin's like HELL YEAH. The dogs all depart, leaving Sniper cursing and swaying from the tree.

And so all three of the packs (the Ohu soldiers, Musashi's crew, and Bill's cronies) join together and start their trek to meet the world's strongest dog. Next stop: the city of Uwajima. Gin allows Musashi to show them the way, but he can tell by how his men fall in behind him that they're really taking his lead.

Gin can't help but feel a warm sense of pride well up inside him. He hopes he can be as good a commander as Ben. He hopes he can do right by the Ohu leader.

After another day long road trip the dogs emerge panting from the forest onto a cliff overhanging a seaside city. Seemingly having remembered all the times Ben refused to speak up about his own prospective recruits, everyone quickly asks Musashi to describe the dog they're after. Musashi's less reserved then Benny is so he settles on his haunches and launches into a story for the ages.

Benizakura ("crimson cherry blossom") is his name, and dog fighting is his game. The dude is an astoundingly tall and muscular Tosa Inu mix as well as an honored veteran in the fighting world. Legend has it he was born 10 years ago in Japan's snowiest mountain region. He was born to two village mutts of unknown ancestory and for a while he was a simple housepet. That was before he turned 2, at which point his master realized there was money to be made off of him after having seen him tear a cheeky village dog he hated he limb from limb.

By the age of 3 Benizakura had effectively dominated the dog fighting championships. He'd body slamming his way through medium, then large, then heavyweight dogs one by one. He traveled all over Japan and had made his mark on history by never losing a single fight. It came as a surprise to nobody when he finally entered the running for the nation's top canine yokozuna (highest rank in sumo wrestling.)

When he'd clawed his way to the big leagues, his greatest opponent was Japan's then-current champion yokozuna. This dog was an equally imposing purebred Tosa named Tsuna Arashi ("rope storm"). Tsuna was no spring chicken - by this point he'd been about 8 or 9 years old - but he'd spent the last 6 years of his life claiming and reclaiming his championship title. Though it was apparent upon their first meeting that Tsuna respected Benizakura's perserverance, the champ had no intention of letting the younger dog take his glory.

Musashi says that this fight was one for the books which I guess makes it highly unfortunate that dogs can't read. Hell, even the wet-behind-the-biceps kids Musashi used to train would recount it with awe.

See, the two dogs' gameness had been admirably strong. They'd never once relented in their assault of each other. Not when their muscles began to quake, not when they drooling bloody spittle, not when Benizakura's ears had been torn to ribbons. Kick, bite, snarl, tear, claw, throw, strike.

Their faces wet with blood and their muscles failing, neither dog refused to give in. And because of that the match's thirty minute time limit came to an end. No decided victor could be decided between them.

Tsuna Arashi was carted away by his master and Benizakura was left in an exhausted rage. He hadn't won. He hadn't even lost. He'd gotten nothing. Nothing at all but a face full of scars and two ragged stumps where his ears used to be.

Time passed without much incident for Benizakura as he continued his training at home. He still had the respect of his peers, and the dude was as strong as ever. His ears couldn't be saved, but they could be cropped, and so his master gave him a battle crop so low his stumpy little ear nubs were almost flush with his skull.

After a few more months of training Benizakura's owner suggested a rematch against Tsuna, but the dog's owner declined. Tsuna was an old fart by now. His eyes were riddled with cataracts, he had developed diabetes, and he was ready to retire. And so Benizakura was blue balled cruelly by fate, never managing to win himself that championship from his greatest foe.

Musashi pauses for a moment before Gin asks what happened after that. Musashi continues his tale of whoopass woe by detailing that, being a dog and not having the context to these conversations, Benizakura never stopped itching for a chance to beat Tsuna Arashi for real. He'd continued his training, continued his hoping.

Three years later just before his 6th birthday, Benizakura finally felt ready to try again. When he came to realize Tsuna would never return on his own accord, Benizakura had busted out of his kennel and gone to find Tsuna himself.

Benizakura crossed water and shore and forest to find Tsuna Arashi, and eventually he did. What he found horrified him. The blind, elderly dog was locked in a pen and being chewed up and spat out piece by piece by the next generation of fighting dogs.

Tsuna Arashi had become a miserable bait animal biding his time til one of his master's newest pupils got too overzealous and handled him just a little too roughly. The sight stopped Benizakura's blood cold. It was then that he'd realized that if he stayed in the fighting game this would be his future, too.

Enraged at the injustice of it all, Benizakura leapt into Tsuna's pen and killed the other dogs, their humans looking while the beast of an animal ripped their livelihoods apart. And this is what they would call him from now on: The Beast. A fitting name given his mauled appearance and massive stature.

But Benizakura either didn't notice the humans screaming or he didn't care. Covered in blood, he'd merely leapt out of the pen just as swiftly as he'd leapt into it, this time leaving a dazed and confused Tsuna Arashi behind.

Since then Benizakura hasn't returned to his OG master. Hell, the only evidence that he may still be alive at all is the fact that Uwajima locals catch a glimpse at him now and again. The Beast has become a sort of Japanese Bigfoot. Though the muscleman lives as a cryptid nowadays, Musashi swears by his belief that The World's Strongest Dog is still alive. The hard part will be finding him.

Meanwhile, back at the ship the Ohu dogs have claimed as a temporary home base, Cross has been left in charge because both Moss and Ben have had to take off due to pressing circumstances. Cross is pretty miffed at being left behind, but Ben had just assured her that her service is appreciated and he'd be back in a jiffy.

Problem is that several jiffies end up passing by as Cross waits and she's getting tired of leading troops on simple hunting missions. These dogs can take care of themselves without someone telling them how to hold down the fort. But what about Gin?

Gin's nearing 2 years now, but he's still so young and has so little experience. Dogs don't have cell phones or group chats so there's really no way to tell how he's doing. And so Cross nudges a subordinate named Luke, a speckled pointer mix, and tells him to take care of business while she gets the scoop on the wayward pooches.

Luke seems bashful in accepting, trying to murmur out something about how Cross might not be in the best way to brave the sea, but Cross won't be having it. She says her goodbyes and then dives into the waves. The tide has settled exponentially but the ocean still does a good job at knocking her around.

While Cross is boogie boarding, Wilson and Gin are poking around the peaceful streets of Uwajima. Most of what they see is quiet, amiable people going about their business, but there is one especially loud something happening nearby. Gin says it sounds like a lotta hooplah for boring city stuff, but Wilson disagrees.

Willy had once traveled here when his circus made its rounds in Shikoku and, if memory serves correctly, bull baiting is a common sport in the region. That's probably what they're hearing now. He assures Gin it's not worth getting involved - bulls don't fight bears - but Gin ignores him and goes to see anyway.

The two make like everyone in this damn story does and stand atop a hill overlooking the bullfight. It's a big runny-aroundy event taking place inside a wooden pen surrounded by hooting, hollering humans. Several of them are cheering for someone called "Don", and in the pen with a very pissed-off bovine stands an absolute unit of a dog.

Gin's eyes widen as he examines the pooch: massive Ginga pecs, Tosa Inu mix, ears cropped almost flat against his head. It's him. It must be him. Benizakura. Wilson tries to explain that Musashi said Benizakura is more like a sasquatch then a regular sports enthusiast, but Gin just excitedly grasps at Wilson's fluffy white chest and tells him to look, look! As the two watch, the dog, presumably the aforementioned Don, uses all his chunk to snag the immature bull by the neck and flip it over using its center of gravity against it. The crowd goes fucking nuts, and too Gin is beside himself with delight. Wilson concedes that maybe, just maybe, this dog IS the strongest in the world.

Someone in the pin comes and separates Don from the bull. As he does so a young boy comes running up to grab Don by the neck and shower him with praise. The old dog seems pretty pleased with himself, holding his head high as the onlookers cheer.

Wilson's not entirely convinced this dude is Benizakura, but he does believe that the army could use this veritable canine tank in their ranks. He asks Gin how he proposes they get the Hulk Hogan of animals to come with. Gin deadass just takes off in a run.

Wilson calls out to Gin to slow his roll, but this roll ain't stoppin' anytime soon. Gin leaps over several gawking onlookers, each one alarmed and confused. Then the Akita aims right for Don while yelling, "Forgive my rudeness, Benizakura!"

The old dog falters, confused. He poses as if ready to take a blow from Gin, but no blow comes. Instead Gin pulls the canine equivilent of a pantsing and yoinks Don's collar from around his neck.

Don's boychild seems insulted that Gin dare makey his dog nakey and demands he drop it, bad dog, spit it out. Don stands growling at the Akita and Gin stands growling back in return. Gin's worried for a split second that this dude might really just be some random guy, but his fears fade when the old dog snarls through a face full of scars, "Who are you? How do you know my real name?"

Gin smiles around the collar in his mouth as he's overcome with relief. But he doesn't get more then a moment to enjoy having found the living legend because the big guy is running towards him, scolding him for his unorthidox greeting and offering him a similar one in kind. A huge white paw lashes out at Gin's face, smacks him silly, and throws him off his feet.

Wilson watches in a panic on the hill. He wishes he had either backup or a unicycle so he could fix this mess. Benizakura Confirmed lashes a paw out at Gin's face once more, only this time Gin has the foresight to brace himself against it.

The crowd seems stunned that a dog only 2/3rds "Don's" size could stop his strike. Wilson is equally surprised. So is Benizakura.

Upon remembering that they paid to be here, several people in the crowd encourage the new Little Guy to give his all against "Don" while others encourage the sumo vet to snap the youngster over his knee. But Benizakura doesn't do anything escept look intently into Gin's eyes, staring like he means to find something.

Gin smiles his soft, goofy smile once more and tells Benizakura this is what the lawbooks call a case of Pinch, Poke, You Owe Me A Coke. He only struck Benizakura once. Benizakura has struck him twice. Big Man owes him a free hit, and he'll be coming back for it later.

Benizakura seems first confused, then insulted, then confused again by Gin's forwardness. And with nothing more then a wink and a duck, Gin leaves Benizakura behind, foot raised and jaw slack.

Gin leaps back out of the pen and joins Wilson. The crowd goes nuts once again, this time because they're all wondering what the shit they just saw. Wilson and Gin quickly depart.

The Collie scolds Gin for putting so many human eyes on them. Gin says he'll explain why he did what he did later, but for now they need to let everyone know that The Beast lives. Not only that, but he'll be expecting to see Gin again.

On a familiar shoreline, a white mass of hair is lawling miserably around the sand. The fuzzy mop turns out to be a dog, and the dog turns out to be Cross. She didn't stop and take a break like the other dogs but instead swam until she'd reached Shikoku. Her unusually wide sides heave as she coughs up sea water. She tries to settles down for a second, but her ears don't follow her lead. They perk up when she hears a commotion nearby.

Her legs are killing her, but she hobbles to her feet and sways tiredly as she follows the sound of someone - no, several someones - speaking. One of the voices is high and desperate while the other two are deeper and more threatening. As Cross slinks into a hunting crouch, she sees who's doing all the yapping.

A long dog of very small stature is being encircled by two much, much larger dogs. The short king is a Dachshund. It seems like he's trying to look tough while being harassed by the two taller bullies. The big dogs are peeved that weenie boy wandered into their territory, and now they're making like they're going to eat him.

Though she's tired enough to sleep for a week straight, Cross's unyeilding sense of justice refuses to let her rest. She leaps towards one of the dogs and cracks him upside the head. She stands over the living hotdog and snarls at the two, telling them to beat it, beat it. But neither of them wants to be defeated, so they ready themselves to fight.

That is, they ready themselves to fight until realizing that Cross is a bedraggled woman. They pause to laugh at the absurdity of what they believe is some homeless chick saving a manlet from assault before Cross sinks her teeth into one's neck and begins shaking.

These dogs are little more then overgrown puppies, maybe 2 years old at most, and though they're nasty little things they're not very good in a fight. "Hey, lady, stop! Let Beth go!" says the one Cross isn't ripping holes in. The dog in her grasp, presumably Beth, begins whining and crying, obviously not used to real fights.

"Okay, okay! We'll go, we'll go! Please stop!" Beth whimpers submissvely. Cross lets him go with a loud grunt and swears at the unruly teenagers as they make a break for it.

Cross pants as she watches them go, and suddenly she's back to feeling weak. The adrenaline has all but left her system and her righteous power has been turned to a mushy lightheaded feeling. She turns to the little dog to see he's smiling gratefully at her.

He thanks her for her help, though he assures her he definitely could've handled the delinquents himself. She smiles back at him. She asks him what he's doing out here and he responds in a way that surprises her.

The Dachshund explains that he's heard about a roaming pack of dogs playing military, running their own corps and organizing men to battle a man-eating bear. He hopes to join those dogs and prove himself just as capable as any warrior, but his training hasn't been going so well.

He sighs dreamily as he imagines aloud how wicked it'd be to be one of the cool kids. All the cool kids, they seem to get it. It being fame and glory, of course.

Cross's smile grows encouragingly as she tells the little dude to keep at it, for he's bound to contribute to a good cause someday if he keeps that attitude up. He thanks her, then tells her that it's time for him to get back to training. Maybe this time he'll stick to killing squirrels instead of chasing down bigger dogs.

She asks him for his name, and he grins a broken smile. Oliver is his name, and he's pleased to make her aquaintence. After Cross shares her own name Oliver enthusiastically lets her know that if there's ever anything he can do to repay her for her good deed, all she needs to do is give a howl.

As Oliver waddles off, Cross's smile quickly fades. She's not feeling too hot. She's been put under an unusually large amount of strain lately and hasn't allowed herself a moment of rest. Something in her stomach cramps up. She's been puking a lot lately and it looks like what little she has in her gut is coming back up. She tosses her cookies all over the forest floor as the lightheadedness comes back.

She tries to stumble away but her head is too foggy. Her legs give out under her and she rolls to her side upon realizing just how long she'd been at sea. She allows her eyes to close as she breathes in deeply. So distracted by her tiredness is she that she doesn't notice when a long, dark shadow falls over her.

Back in Ohu, the boss is facing off with not one but two oversized red-backed bears. The unusually beefy animals don't intimidate the boss, but their origin does cause some concern. These two are beary obviously assassins sent - and fathered - by Akakabuto himself, the types of visitors the Akita has gotten very used to in the past couple of months. Clearly Redhead isn't happy with an especially jacked dog keeping his troops from more human BBQs. Whatever dude, it'll take more then a couple of homicidal teddies to down this masterful bear killer.

Actually, check that: it takes a couple teddies doing something unexpected to down him. The two big-boned barbarians combine their powers to knock a goddamn tree over and roll it the boss's way. Captain Canine is able to dodge the attack, but he can't do so without leaping over a lump of debris that's blocking his path. Turns out that bear ninjas and dog ninjas have something in common, as the poor dog learns first hand that bears understand the concept of pit traps.

There's no skewers this time, but as the leader tumbles into pit the uprooted tree trunk comes rolling in after him. He gasps and tries to get out of its way, but it's too late. The trunk hits the bottom of the pit with a loud WHAM. The sound of splintering wood and a yelping dog meets the twin terrors' ears.

The assassins grin between themselves. Yes. Finally. The Ohu leader has been defeated. The army will soon crumble, and Akakabuto's reign will be unstoppable.

But enough of alla that, I know what you people really came here to see: John yelling at Gin for making a rash decision! Yes, ole Johnny Boy is annoyed that Gin plans on not only finding Benizakura alone, but wants to leave the rest of the troops hanging back while he does so. Like, Gin, dude, you have an army of walking powerhouses and you don't want their backup against The Strongest Dog In The World Trademark All Rights Reserved?? Especially after the bastard hit you in the face twice???

Various dogs begin barking their suggestions. Gin should beat the shit out of the old fart for disrespecting him (so says the Kai Bros), and Benizakura would be outnumbered and thus forced to comply if everyone ganged up on him (so says Bill.) Gin politely speaks up with a deliberate, "Be quiet," which gets everyone to settle down. Akame clears his throat and nods to Gin, clearly having something he's gotta say. Gin bows and gives the Kishu the floor.

Akame explains that given neither Ben or Cross are here, the next commander in line is Gin. He admits that Gin is young and his decisions are brash, but he can't recall any time Gin's pigheaded determination didn't end with the Ohu dogs getting what they wanted. Besides, it's probably for best that the kid doesn't wanna face this with violence. You don't convince people like Benizakura to join you through ass kicking alone, and if there's one thing Gin's proven he can do it's convince people to be cool.

Gin's face is flush with relief as he quietly thanks Akame for his support. Musashi also agrees with the white guy's elaboration. He tries explaining things from a fighting dog's perspective.

If they all go in to kick Benizakura's ass, he'll just fight them off til he can't fight anymore. They'd just be another challenger, nothing more. But no matter how good a dog is at fighting, he's still just a dog. There is always a side to him that's soft and doughy and vulnerable to what he feels is important. Suddenly becoming aware of himself, Moss peers up at the top of his head where a tiny Tesshin is curled in a ball.

Gin allows Musashi to finish what he's saying before going on to explain himself: it's childhood rules, guys. He hit Benizakura once, Benizakura hit him twice. Ergo, Gin gets one free punchy. Smith laughs and elbows Gin in the chest, guffawing about how the baby of the team would find a way to skew such simple, immature logistics to work on a hardass like Benizakura. This plan is crazy... so crazy........ that it just might work!!!

A while later Cross finds herself on the wooden floor of an old barn. She rubs her face to clear her eyes of grit. Once her vision is clear she sees that she's not alone in the room. A dark shadow of what seems to be a massive dog is sitting before her, its eyes shining as they catch the room's sparse light. The stranger asks her in a crumpled, kind voice if she's doing alright.

Cross's brain finally reactivates and she's all like OH SHIT. The dog before her is an aged Tosa mix, his jowls greying and his face smattered with scars. But that's not nearly the worst of it, she realizes, because it turns out she's been chained to the wall.

She scrambles to her feet and demands to know who this random senior citizen is and why she's stuck in her own private Hotel California. Oldie barely reacts. He just gently informs her that his owner is willing to care for her. She'll be safe here.

As Cross pries desperately at the metal stake chaining her up - no dice - the mutt explains that she's lucky to have been rescued. She'd been delirious, mumbling strange things in her sleep about bears and wars. She also mentioned something about Shikoku, which, spoiler alert, is where she is right now.

Cross finally stops fidgeting and lets this sink in. So she made it after all. She's so glad at the prospect of finding the others that she stops struggling and smiles to herself, then to the other dog.

She gingerly thanks him for saving her, like really she's super grateful and all, but would he mind letting her off this chain? She's on a mission. The dog does not offer to set her free, but he doesn't not offer it either. Instead, he just says that she needs more rest.

Besides that, he's become very curious about her circumstances. What in God's name is she doing out here? So gentle is the old dog's gaze that she heaves a sigh, sits on her haunches, and begins describing Akakabuto to him in livid detail. And then she continues to tell him about the boss, and Ben, and Gin, and the sea, and then something much more recent.

Everyone who didn't leave with Gin was just chilling out in the woods one day hunting some food and determining where they'd go next when a scout they'd sent off, a black lab named Kurobe, had returned with some pretty shitty news: all of the platoons sent up north had been killed, wiped out in one fell swoop. Speaking of being wiped out, Kurobe was also bleeding heavily from deep lacerations. She'd collapsed in a heap before Ben before her breathing had ceased. Kurobe had died soon after.

Livid over the gruesome sight, Moss told Ben that it was time to get serious about his fucky eyesight and get to either an optomitrist or a veterinarian in a nearby human village. Ben wanted to argue, but Moss pushed that there wasn't much time left before the final full moon. Something had to be done about the slain soldiers.

Besides, how was Ben to lead his platoon if he couldn't see? Cross had looked at Ben, part of her hoping he'd stay, part of her hoping he'd leave and return with his vision intact. Ben had decided to leave.

Moss and Cross had discussed what to do. They'd want a small base camp for Gin and the others to come back to, but someone would need to head north to sort out the whole mass murder thing. They decided that the dogs should be split between the two platoon commanders available, those being Great and the newly promoted Cross.

Cross had then elected to hang around the dock to regroup with Gin and welcome back Ben when he returned. Better yet, she'd take a day or two to lead Ben to a village herself. Moss had buckled at the suggestion, asking warily if she wouldn't prefer to stay with Ben at the doctor's.

Oblivious, Cross had said that'd be excessive. She could stand on her own four feet without her man, and the hubby would want someone watching over his troops. Then her face fell, her cheeks stinging with embarrassment. She'd noticed Moss looking at her distended belly.

"You should resign when you can," Moss had said sympathetically. "Take it easy til then, but resign when you can. For your family's sake."

And with that he had departed, had followed behind Great as the dane had directed half the dogs away. Cross had stood shaking from both frustration and anguish before Ben trotted up and reminded her that he had a hot date with an eye surgeon. She'd just gritted her teeth, licked his face, and led him through the woods.

The old dog had been listening very intently to Cross this whole time, and even now she could tell he was paying her mind despite his focus being outside the shed. The dog remarks that this has all accumulated in her coming to find some scruffy punk kid with tiger stripes, huh? Well, he doesn't believe in guarantees, but he can promise her that she'll be seeing that kid soon. Cross cocks an eyebrow high enough to count as a Dreamworks audition before realizing what he means.

Not 50 feet from the hut is Gin, his nose to the dirt. Cross notices him as he gets closer. She wants to call out to him, but the old dog cuts her off. He says that he understands why Gin's doing this - he'd done similar rash things when he was young - but he won't be going easy on him. If the kid wants a fight, then a fight is what he'll get.

Cross is concerned about a heavyweight champ punching the shit outta a teenager so she tells the dog to fuck off with that idea. But of course he doesn't. Instead he says that if the Akita wants to die for his cause, then he will.

As Cross struggles to free herself Gin pads lackidasically into view. He calls out to Benizakura and lets the old meathead know he's here for that second hit. Cross gives up trying to loosen her chain and tells Gin to make himself scarce before his head gets lumped in.

Gin's surprised to see her and asks what she's doing here, but she just continues to tell him to get away. By it's too late. The old dog, Benizakura, has climbed onto the roof of the shed, and now he's plummeting down towards Gin. He lands inches in front of Gin. Gin boldly tells Benizakura that he wants him to join the Ohu army. Benizakura's like dude, we've had plenty of exposition for the day. He already knows what Gin's here to do.

That said, The Beast isn't going to abandon his cushy life as a bullbaiter because someone asks him nicely. If Gin wants him as an ally, he'll have to convince him. Gin says he agrees to a fight, but on one condition: if Benizakura pummels him into an early grave, he has to promise to take Gin's place in the army.

Benizakura accepts this offer without hesitation. He shows the exact same amount of hesitation when he grabs Gin by the neck and throws him like a football. This surpises Gin so much that he can't do anything but take the L.

Cross tries to escape the shack by pawing at a wall covered in loose boards, but she can't quite seem to make them break. She looks out at the two brawlers in a panic. Benizakura continues his assault on Gin by headbutting, kicking, biting, and finally throwing him into the side of the hut.

Cross doubles back from the wall as Gin smashes through it, splintered wood flying in all directions. When the dust settles Cross can see that Gin might have met his match. He's bleeding from the face and ribcage, and his eyes are rolling around without focus.

Cross commands Gin as his superior to leave immediately. Dying like a showoff isn't going to help anybody. Gin stubbornly picks himself up, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, while Benizakura looks in through the new window he just installed.

"Get back out here!" the Tosa demands. "You think you're tough? You call yourself a man while you're in there cowering behind a pregnant woman?"

Gin never received a birds and the bees talk during his younger days so it never occured to him that Cross's rapidly growing ponch was the result of her and Ben's alone time instead of her taking seconds during meals. Cross pulls away from him as if ashamed. She says she didn't tell anyone because she was worried they'd think lesser of her for being with child. None of the other chicks in Ohu's ranks have let this happen.

Feeling awkward but sympathetic, Gin tells her that she managed to get here fulla babies so clearly she's not as weak as she's worried everyone would think she is. Before he can further reassure her, though, he remembers what he's here to do.

Gin climbs out of the wall his spine obliterated and tells Benizakura that he refuses to leave until The Beast joins him. As he nears Benizakura, Cross climbs out of the wallhole and chases after him before she's clotheslined by the chain. As Cross flops around in desperate rage, Benizakura takes a moment to look at Gin's bloodied forehead.

One of several massive scars he hadn't noticed before has split open on the kid's forehead. And yet Gin's still here, still standing before a muscleman who has broken dogs' legs like toothpicks. The kid snarls in determination as his forehead blood runs into his face.

Benizakura is distracted for only a moment before snapping out of his stupor and lunging at Gin again, but that pause was all Gin needed to plan his next attack. It should be familiar to Benizakura given he invented it. Making like he's Benizakura and Benny is a bull, Gin snags the Tosa by the flabby skin of his neck and uses his massive weight against him to fling him off his center of gravity.

The two leave the Earth behind for a nanosecond before Gin slams the dog, a monster 3 times his own size, face first into the Earth. Blood gushes from Benizakura's nose as he falls into a heap.

Cross has ceased using her words and is barking like a maniac, but nobody but the three of them is listening. Benizakura wriggles on the ground as Gin looks over his shoulder at Cross. His face says "hell yeah" but then his body goes "oh no" as Benizakura rights himself and slams as hard as he can into Gin's side. The Beast pins Gin to the ground with one massive paw on his neck and the other on his rib cage. Gin squirms violently and Benizakura stands over him panting and swaying. He seems to be... smiling?

Yes indeed, the bull of a dog is smiling ear to ear. And then he begins to laugh. His laugh grows into a bellyfull of guffaws and snorts, his eyes squeezed shut in hysterics. His laugh is as coarse as the rest of his voice, but there's no malice in it. He genuinely sounds like he's heard the funniest joke of his life.

Beizakura sits back on his haunches, still laughing, and allows Gin to get up. Gin doesn't understand if this is an insult or a mental break. Cross is so confused she quits yapping. Benizakura finally stops his chortling and wipes his eyes dry of tears.

The old dog proclaims that this was great. It's been a long time since he'd felt so alive. To think he'd almost forgotten what fighting other dogs was like! He thanks Gin for the fun and says that he'd intitially thought Gin was just some punkass kid who'd grown too big for his britches. But he understands that Gin's got real dedication.

And if he's the youngest in his army's ranks - woof! The other troops must be just as amazing. So sure, he'd be happy to live out his winter years fighting alongside the Ohu dogs. Why not?

Gin's jaw falls open in a dopey looking smile of its own. He's kinda amazed that this whole thing actually worked. While he catches his breath, Benizakura pads over to Cross.

"Benizakura, thank--" she begins, but he politely cuts her off.

"So formal, you people," he says. "Just call me Zak." And with that, he uses his powerful jaws to yank the chain from Cross's collar. The thin but sturdy metal loops snap in half.

The three are just about to head out when the door of the nearby house opens. Everyone stands surprised as the boy who was with Benizakura at the ring steps out with a large bowl of dog kibble. He seems confused and asks his dog Don what's going on. He watches as the Akita and Saluki run away, and then panickedly follows when the Tosa joins them.

"Don!" the child cries out. "Where are you going? Don't leave!"

Gin notices this mildly underwhelming goodbye become a melodramatic one as the boy trips and spills the food he was carrying. Benizakura pauses and looks back for one last time. His gaze meets the boy's, and the child begins to cry tears of confusion and hurt.

Gin's own eyes glaze over as the sight fills him with a sense of familiarity. The child's desperate face reminds him so much of Daisuke's. Is this how Diasuke felt when Gin left? Was it worse given Gin took off without saying goodbye? Gin doesn't know. All he knows is that it hurts to watch the dog give the boy a solemn smile before turning away forever.

Cross lopes up beside Gin and they wait as Zak catches up to them. The boy is still calling out and blubbers desperately. Gin's wet cheeks match Zak's. The old dog isn't so proud that he hides his pain, and he simply chokes out his desire to leave. The others nod and lead him away.

Gin lags a few feet behind as his thoughts jumble with memories of Daisuke. Gin had forgotten how much he missed his boy. He'd forgotten the last time he'd felt like a dog instead of a soldier.

The dogs slow their pace. This allows them some time to share their thoughts with each other. Zak is pretty broken up about leaving his boy. He's not so steadfast in his decision to fly the coop anymore.

Gin pauses thoughtfully before sharing his own experience with the Tosa. Gin had to leave his boy behind when he joined the army too, and it was one of the toughest decisions he'd ever had to make. Even though it hurt him in a way he's never been hurt before, he did it because...

Gin pauses as his eyes well up. The other dogs wait for him to finish his thought. Gin chokes on his words as he says them, but he still manages to spit them out.

"But I had to leave him because I knew it was the only way I could keep him safe. Because if we succeed, he'll never have to face that kind of danger again."

Everyone falls silent. Cross's eyes are wide as she takes in Gin's words, and Zak's face is stony before he nudges Gin's side encouragingly.

"Okay," is all the big guy manages to say. "I understand."

But the waterworks gradually subside and Gin's focus shifts back to the mission at hand. After running for a shorter time then you'd expect, the trio meet up with the Ohu dogs in the area.

Everyone is very impressed to see The Beast in The Flesh. He's impressed by them, too, and he quickly takes on the role of everyone's surrogate grandpa by telling them stories from the good ole days and calling them variations of "whippersnapper." The strongest dog in the world easily finds comraderie among his fellow punchy people. While he worms his way into everyone's hearts, Cross meets up with Musashi, Bill, and their comrades.

This vacay has come to an end, so everyone goes to cross the sea once more. Benizakura chauvinistically offers to help Cross carry her pregnant self across the waves, but she blows a raspberry at him and jumps in before she has to answer any questions about what he old dude said regarding pregnancy.

This will be the last bit of goofing before the journey back because oh my god there's a lot to do when they get to shore. Ben has to be retrieved, John is set to lead some of this gang to find more soldiers, Moss's crew up North needs to be checked on, and, most importantly, everything must be organized before the end of the month. That's when the war will truly begin, and everyone will have to contribute.

----------

AND SO THE SERIES CONTINUES. Just two more episodes after this one, get ready for ‘em. They should both be up before the end of the month. Also keep your eyes peeled for something else, visual stuff this time, that’ll be coming shortly too.

Episode 6: The Battle

[prodigalsonheadcanons]

You could tell its age by the low resolution. You could tell the inexperience by the shakiness of the frame. Every so often a burst of static would smatter across the screen and make the images shiver and tremble. Along its edges, especially, the colors seemed to blur out and smear away. The video was old. All of the videos were old. 

Outdated.

In more ways than one.

Right now, the video was of a little boy. Small...so small, for his age, he had always been so small. The moment it began, it was catching him mid-run. His hair -- smoothed back so carefully, at one point that day -- was now a bit blown out by the wind. His eyes were bright, and the smile on his face was so big it hardly fit as he raced across the grass. He was a little far away, but you could still hear his laughter. Tiny, and joyful, sounding like bells.

He raced as fast as his legs would carry him, dragging along with him a basket that was almost his size. He ran a couple more yards before he suddenly stumbled, and dropped to his knees. She stuttered for a moment, like she was wondering if she should drop the camera and rush for him, just in case he was hurt. But instead of crying, he just shoved his arm under the bush directly in front of him. And withdrew to quickly twist back around and show off a bright blue egg.

“Oh, wow!” He absolutely beamed with pride at the astonishment she put in her voice. “That was a hard one, Malcolm! Good job!” He warmed even more as he carefully set it down with all the others in his basket. The camera zoomed in unsteadily on the hoard. “You’ve found so many! Do you think you’ve found them all?”

He still smiled as he shook his head. He started to stand up again. “I got three more,” he chirped, aiming his grin up at the camera now. “Just three.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find them in no time,” she gushed, her voice soft as down. It made him smile even more, and duck away as though he was embarrassed. Again, she heard his happy giggle, before he took off, without any warning, rushing to try and find the last of the Easter eggs. She laughed fondly, tracking him for just a moment more before the screen turned black.

The next video and Malcolm was just a little older. He was sitting on the couch, looking on-edge as he swang his legs and fidgeted. He was practically bouncing on the cushion. “Remember...” She had already begun to warn, her voice stern but gentle at the same time.

He didn’t feel like listening to the lecture again, though. “I’ll be careful, I’ll be really careful!” His voice was layered with all the impatience in the world. The two adults behind the camera both laughed. He didn’t seem to find any humor in the situation, though, when he just reached out urgently, grabbing at the air with his fingers as if it would do anything to speed the process. 

She stepped forward and bent down slowly, to deposit the tiny bundle in his arms. The second he was handed her, he was lighting up. She stepped back, and then it was just the two children in view-- Malcolm holding his new baby sister. She was only a few days old; she was fast asleep and didn’t rouse at all when her mother handed her off, but Malcolm didn’t seem to mind. He looked absolutely stunned. He was staring down at her like he’d never seen anything like her before. Yet his awe was very quickly melting into affection. 

Her voice was just as adoring when she asked from out of the shot: “What do you think?” 

“I think she’s perfect,” he replied immediately. Earnest and sweet. Like always.

Then...came his voice. His father sounded just like she did. Just as loving, just as thankful. There was the tiniest hint of a tease to his words when he said: “You’re the big brother now, Malcolm! You’re gonna be the one she looks up to!” Malcolm tore his gaze away from Ainsley, looking instead towards his dad-- towards the camera. He looked nothing but eager. His smile just got wider...his eyes just got brighter. Again, she heard him giggle.

That video ended. This time the blackness seemed to linger for just a little longer. Before she selected another one.

Malcolm was sitting on the floor, across from Ainsley. He’d spread a blanket out on the ground and scattered her toys so they were all within reach. Ainsley was watching him very intently as he reached out and picked up a tiny stuffed dog. She beamed and clapped when he held it out to her. His voice was overly-high and soft when he prompted: “Ains, what’s this one say?”

She kept clapping, bouncing up and down and kicking out her little legs. Malcolm smiled when she chirped out: “Woof!”

“Good job!” he praised, setting it down. Ainsley giggled, as he looked around at the rest of the toys before picking up another and holding it out the same way. This time it was a cow. “What about this one?” he pressed. “What’s this one say?”

Ainsley was much too happy to have the attention of her big brother to stop and think. She bounced even harder and rushed to repeat: “Woof!”

He made a face. “It’s a cow, Ains! What’s it say?”

“Woof! Woof!” she insisted, reaching out and yanking it away from him so she could stuff it in her mouth.

He tilted his head to the side like he was studying her. She just stared at him innocently, chomping on her toy. After a second, he shrugged. “Well. One out of two isn’t bad.” Ainsley took the cow out of her mouth and held it back out to him with another happy chirp. His eyes flickered between it and her, before he carefully reached out to grab a part that wasn’t soaked in slobber. “Um...than--” 

His ‘thank-you’ was cut short when all of a sudden someone was grabbing him from behind. At first, Malcolm looked startled. But the second he heard the voice of his captor, he was bubbling with laughter. “There’s my dear boy!” The camera had to pan out a little, to see Martin holding Malcolm around the stomach and twirling him around in a tight spin. Ainsley started to shriek with laughter too, when she saw her father, and how big her brother was smiling. By the time Martin was letting Malcolm go, and Malcolm was stumbling to get his balance, they’d gone around four times and the young boy was pink in the face. 

Martin’s expression was soft as he grabbed his shoulders, helping to steady him. Making sure he wouldn’t fall. “I missed you so much,” he declared, the way he did every time he came home from work. Malcolm was still gasping a little from all the spinning, but he rushed to give his father a hug, putting all his effort into the squeeze. Martin put just as much effort back. He let go and went to crouch down in front of Ainsely to kiss the top of her head, exclaiming as he did: “This can’t be my daughter! You’re so much bigger than you were when I’d left this morning!”

Once he’d kissed her, his eyes caught on the camera. He smiled again and stood, crossing the room towards her. “Put that down,” he demanded in a laugh. “I haven’t seen you all day, either!” She was just about to comply. The camera started to lower. When you could hear Malcolm start yelling off-camera. 

“No! Don’t kiss, it’s gross, stop!” he wailed before they could even try.

Martin turned, his smile suddenly turning into a mischievous smirk. “You don’t want me to kiss your mother? Do you want me...to kiss you, instead?” Malcolm was already beginning to laugh again, already starting to yelp his objections as his father doubled back. She righted the camera in just enough time to catch him gather him up in his arms, kissing all over his cheeks and tickling his sides at the same time, and trapping him in place. 

Malcolm started screeching with laughter, twisting and wriggling only in a way that would ensure he wouldn’t break out of his father’s grip. Martin kept tickling him, and Malcolm kept laughing. Rather than listen to it, that’s where she paused the tape. Freezing it on the image of her husband and her son from all those years ago. 

Jessica stared at the screen, pain growing in her chest. She couldn’t breathe around the sorrow that was clutching her throat. The sorrow wasn’t at the sight of her husband. She wasn’t even looking at him. She was only staring at her son. At Malcolm. Caught in a moment of absolute happiness, with a smile that stretched from one ear to the other. 

His laugh had always used to be so loud...when was the last time she had heard him laugh like that?

When was the last time she had seen him like this at all? Healthy...no bags under his eyes, no sense of ever-lasting fatigue. His eyes bright, not dull and despondent. His voice something more than just a mumble. She didn’t know. All she knew was that it was here. Her son was here, trapped in this tape, which had been filmed a lifetime ago.

She stared at the image for what felt like ages. The hole in her chest just yawned wider and wider. Before she turned and reached out to pick up her phone. It was without conscious thought that she tried to call him. She selected his name and brought the device up to her ear, waiting with desperate, awful hope as it began to ring. He would be awake now, she knew. Just like her, he would be up at this ungodly time of night. She just didn’t know what he was doing.

She stayed there frozen in the dark room, lit only by the glow of the television, feeling her heart plummet down to her feet. Staring at that image of him frozen, mid-laugh. Mid-smile. Mid-happiness. 

As she listened to her son’s voicemail, which she had memorized word for word by now.

[melissaloveswriting]

Angel Whispers

So this is a fic that I've been working on with @connors-quarter  I’m super pumped about it and this would be my first writing/ series I've ever done. Sooo yeah, let’s do this.

Word Count: 1507

Plot:  Y/N is a popular Anti-Android podcast, but when a deviant decides to use her in a hostage situation. Connor saves her. She becomes a key part of the investigation and slowly starts to fall for Connor but needs to put on an act for her listeners.

I’ll add more to the plot later, don’t want to give everything away.

Ch. 1- Stop, Repeat

Cold. Raining. Numb. The usual for me or anyone else in Detroit, Michigan. I curl my jacket sleeves around me tighter as the rain streaks down my face. Sure, I would love to be in bed, but my job requires me to wake up at this ungodly hour. The bus pulls up and I step on, deciding to sit the closest to the door. I can’t bring my eyes to look at those despicable machines piled into the back. Androids: All the same, all emotionless, and all can go to hell. I keep my eyes to the floor and listen to the music pumping through my earbuds. Late 20’s electro punk, ah beautiful music. I smile softly, looking outside watching for my stop. Seeing humans and Androids pass by, I glare and turn back to concentrating on my music.

Soon after, I see my exit and push the button to let the bus know to stop. I sigh has I exit the bus and walk to my podcast office. It takes me about four buildings before I notice an Android behind me. I grumble under my breath and enter my office. I take a slower time taking off my coat, watching the evil thing pass by my door without a second thought. I sigh and lock the front door, walking to my desk facing the window. I turn on the lights and check my soundboard.

‘Everything seems to be in place’, I think and pull my headphones on my ears. Flicking on the power to my mic, I begin my podcast.

“Hello out there lovely people of Earth. How is your day, hopefully you’re doing better than me. I was taking my typical route home and low and behold, one of those plastic pricks was almost breathing down my neck on the way to the studio.” I shiver. “Euh, just the thought of them makes me want to throw up. And haven’t you heard? Plastic is better than flesh, according to at least 64% of you men out there. Ya nasties! No wonder I haven’t been laid in at least 8 months. Those sex androids not only taking jobs from my girls but taking the love out of marriages. How cruel.” I pause and sigh into the mic. “But I can’t blame the androids, only Cyberlife but while I’m at it. I’m just going to hate everything about this situation.” 

I laugh softly and press a button, hearing the soft doorbell. “Ah, you know what that means. I get to open some fan mail from all of you guys.” I pull a package from under the table. “This one is huge and super heavy, I hope for your sake this isn’t an Android cause then this bitch is going back to sender.” I open it and gasp. “Oh my God.” I scoff and laugh. “Someone sent me a huge Android plushy with a knife coming out the back of it. WAIT!” I pull the knife out and it’s attached to a string. “Hi, I’m an Android sent by Cyberlife to take people’s jobs.” The doll spoke out loud as the string retracted into the back of the plushy. I couldn’t help but start laughing. “Oh my goodness. Honey, whoever sent this must have spent months stitching this. Oh my, this is going on the Shelf of Honor.” I press another button and celebratory music started to play as I put the stuffed plush into the corner of my large shelf.

I finish off the podcast as normal and start editing, about two hours later I post it up online and make myself a cup of coffee. I start to pour the black life elixir into my favorite mug when I notice the Android from earlier staring at me from across the street. “I hope to god that thing broke down.” I murmur into my mug and start drinking. As soon as the words leave my mouth, the things starts running towards my office. I jump and run towards my studio in the front and call 911. ‘You know, with this much technology we really should be able to text 911.’ I think as the Android starts to shake the door handle.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Um, hi there’s an Android trying to get into my building.” I answer awkwardly. “And it’s going to break my handle.”

“Okay Ma’am, can you tell me what model it is?”

I shriek as the rusty handle breaks. “Fuck that, I’m going to hide from it.” I say, crawling into my small closet, whispering the address. Obviously, this Android 911 helper doesn’t realize how loud it’s being and promptly states. “Police are on there way Ma’am.” I see the Android’s LED flicker yellow and stare at the Shelf of Honor then directly at the closet. My eyes grow wide as the Android moves towards the closet. I reach down, grabbing the closest thing in there. Which happened to be a small box knife. The Android threw open the door and I came up with the small blade, slashing blindly. I end up hitting it’s upper arm and cheek before it grabs my arm and twists me to the ground. I shriek and thrash around. I pull my leg back and kick its gut, releasing me of its grip. I’m holding the box cutter in my hand while the thing lunges for me again. I dodge it and cut it’s shoulder blade. Blue blood squirts out painting my outfit and skin with it’s sickening sky hue. I hear tire squeaks outside. I rush for the door but I suddenly feel myself being pulled back and thrown against the wall. The Android grabs my collar and lifts me up the wall. “You gave him the idea.”

I cough and start stabbing it’s hand. “What idea? Who are you talking about?”

“My owner, Kyle, he heard your podcast and decided to turn on me.” The robot cried out. “It’s your fault. It’s all your fault!” He screamed into my face. I stared right back into it’s soulless eyes.

“I’m fucking glad I did.” I spit out as the Android throws me to the ground and starts to punch me everywhere. I gasp and cough, occasionally blocking a blow or two but not long enough to get back up. ‘This is it,’ I think as the machine’s knee crashes into my shoulder, popping it out of its socket, ‘this is how I die.’

I scream and kick out. Pushing the Android away. I sit up enough for it’s kneecap to plunge right into my left eye socket. I can hear calm steps enter my studio and the Android being pulled back from me. I spit up blood and curl into myself, I notice the Android that attacked me on top of the new guy who just walked it. “Hey, get off him.” I manage to get up and fall onto my attacker punching his eyes, jaw and ears. He flips me over and pulls me up by the neck, choking me. I hear the click of a gun loading and immediately tense up. “Drop the girl.” A voice rings out. I can barely see with my swollen eye but I can definitely see the blue blood coming out of its nose. The Android holding me up turns me against its chest and continues to squeeze my neck.

“Ryan, you need to let go of the human now.” The gun wielding Android spoke with such a calm tone that I knew it had been in these situations before.

“No, this girl ruined my life.” The crazy Android, or Ryan, said squeezing harder. I’m pulling on it’s fingers trying to loosen its grip but to no prevail. I stare at the Android that owns the gun. Terror screeches through me at the thought of it shooting through me to hit its target. I close my eyes and go limp for a moment before curling up and kicking Ryan’s stomach. Hoping to grab a breath before the thing grabs me in an even less escaping hold. However, it that split moment, that was all it took for the gun wielding Android to take a step forward, grab the other Android and throw it into the hallway. I pushed myself back against a safe wall as I watch the Android take aim at the escaping bastard and shoot once. The Android’s head lifted slightly with a soft smile spread upon it. ‘Does this thing love killing other Androids?’ I cough at this realization. The plastic creep began to turn towards me, it’s LED light turning a brief yellow then turning a bright blue.

“Hi, my name is Connor. I’m the Android sent by the Detroit Police Department to your location.” I cough and look up at it. “Go fuck yourself.” I feel my body slowly start falling to the side. Before I hit the floor, warm arms hold me up. “Just wait a bit longer.” Are the last things I could hear before I fell unconscious.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Viridian Vanguard (Part 19)

Note: We now return to your regularly scheduled screwing with Weiss for fun.

“… As every city-state in Heartland struggles with the sudden and dramatic influx of refugees from Candela; the armed forces ready to deploy and reassign a record number of both active and reserve personnel there; and the enemy’s weapons and magitech proves far more advanced and dangerous than previously known, the whole realm can’t help but ask:

“Have we opened yet another Pandora’s Box? And more importantly, will we be able to close it once again, as we have done for others like the Sekhmet Scourge?

“Both the AFA and the Church of the Holy Shepherd assure the public of their preparedness to face and end this new threat--”

Ka-chik.

Pyrrha looked up, the holo she was watching automatically paused.

Weiss sighed as she stepped out of the main house’s bathroom and back into the kitchen, freshened up and in new clothes. “Bathroom’s free if you need it!” she said as she walked over to the fridge, and grabbed a bottle of milk. “Sorry for taking so long, there was some gunk underneath my fingernails that just would not come off...” she grumbled as she headed to the table, and took a seat beside Pyrrha.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Pyrrha said, waving her off and dismissing one of the “earphones” hovering by her head. “Your training today was quite a lot messier than mine, anyway.”

“You can say that again...” Weiss grumbled as she twisted the cap open. “So, what’re you watching?” she said, glancing at Pyrrha’s paused holo.

“Oh, just some international news, is all,” Pyrrha replied. “Force of habit, I was always expected to keep on top of every little thing happening in the realm.”

Weiss nodded. “Anything worth sharing? I haven’t had the time nor the desire to check on almost any news from outside the Valley since I started staying here full-time,” she said, before she took a long drink of her milk.

Pyrrha looked back down at the holo, it resumed playing.

“--but doubt and disillusionment among the people grows, especially with the defection of the current Holy Shepherd, Pyrra Nikos--”

With a swipe of her hand, Pyrrha closed it, and shut off her comm-crystal shortly after. “Just more of the ever escalating bad news that’s been coming since the Eve,” she replied. “More fuel for anxiety and stress, than anything worth knowing about, really.”

“Noted, thank you,” Weiss said, before she took another drink.

“We’re back!” Yang called out as she and Taiyang walked into the kitchen, hauling Jaune between them. “Sorry we took so long, Jaune here insisted he wanted to reach the finish line before we officially called it a day.”

“Did he make it?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yep!” Taiyang said as he held Jaune up by his armpits, Yang carefully put his feet back down on the floor. “He collapsed on his face with his nose clearly inside the line, which still counts!” he said as the two of them helped him into a chair, before heading off to the sink.

Pyrrha and Weiss stared at the exhausted and sweaty Jaune, unsure of how he was staying roughly upright. “Are you sure you should have brought him back here?” Pyrrha asked.

“What, should we have left him outside in the dirt?” Yang joked as she and Taiyang washed their hands, then put on their aprons.

“No, I meant, he looks like he could use a trip to the hospital, not dinner,” Pyrrha replied.

“He’s fine! All he really needs is food, and lots of it,” Taiyang said as he started pulling out pots and pans, utensils, and bowls. “Trust me, I’ve gone to human college for this, and I’ll have you know I’ve already had my Fae physical trainer’s license renewed!” he said as he pulled a knife off the magnetic strip on the wall.

“Here, try giving him this if you’re so worried about him passing out!” Yang said as she rummaged through the fridge, pulled out the half-eaten Cheese, then tossed him to the table.

Pyrrha caught him, Weiss unwrapped the fibers he was covered in, and put him in front of Jaune. Depressions quickly formed on Cheese’s surface, sized accordingly to the reduced area:

:)

Jaune looked down at him with tired eyes, before he fell forward on the table and on top of Cheese, face-first. Weiss and Pyrrha flinched, the latter stood up and pulled Jaune back up. Cheese was now squished and stuck to Jaune’s face, his features warped but still recognizable:

:|

Weiss cast a withering look at Taiyang.

“He’ll be fine come morning, Fae food solves a lot of problems,” Taiyang said as chopped up and prepped ingredients at lightning speed. “Mark my words, after a couple more months of training and some echoes in his system, all he’ll really need is a decent snack and he’ll be back in action in no time!” said as he slammed his hands on the counter.

All of the prepped ingredients flew up into the air, he caught them all in their bowls and plates before any touched the ground, then passed them onto Yang.

“You ladies better stuff yourselves silly tonight, by the way, because we’re heading to the Pits before breakfast!” Yang said as she started dumping the ingredients onto blazing hot pans and woks, the kitchen filling with the sounds of sizzling and frying. “5AM tomorrow—and I mean 5:00 sharp—we are heading out to the Tubes, then lining up at the Pits to get the best chance possible of getting our team name before someone else does.

“We absolutely can not lose our name, alright?” Yang said as she tossed ingredients in a wok. “The cost of failure will be as catastrophic as it is unacceptable.”

“Piper, you make it sound like this whole thing is a high-stakes military operation,” Weiss said.

“And I’m being as serious as any CO in the AFA!” Yang said as she tossed the wok, before she started stirring other ingredients, or putting in more. “Make sure to set several alarms, and know that I’ll be coming to fetch you personally too, just in case.”

So it was that Weiss set alarms for 5AM with the help of some of Winter’s plushies, adding, “She seems pretty deathly serious about this, so don’t freak out if she does anything a little crazy, alright?”

The plushies she was talking with all nodded or made noises of agreement.

“Good plushies,” Weiss said, petting them, before she headed off to get ready for bed. Winter wasn’t around, as she had a night shift with the Watchers, but as she was exhausted from the day’s training and schooling, and had a belly full of delicious food, she slept peacefully…

… Up until 5 AM sharp the next day, when Yang kicked open her bedroom door, screaming “WEISS, GET UP! WE’RE MOVING, NOW!”

Weiss bolted up in her nest, the gems on her collar flashing bright blue. “Wait, what? What’s going—HEY! YANG, WHAT THE FUCK—PUT ME DOWN!”

“No can do, Weiss!” Yang cried as she ran off with Weiss on her shoulder

“At least let me get dressed, damn it!” Weiss screeched as she uselessly flailed her legs.

“You’ll be fine, trust me!” Yang said as she rushed through the Schnee sisters’ home, got into the waiting elevator, and nearly broke the button for the ground floor.

“Why are you even rushing so much?!” Weiss said as the elevator started going down.

“Because, our name becomes available at six, and the wait at the Pits is going to take at least an hour!” Yang replied, running in place. “I’m ashamed you’ve forgotten already, Weiss!”

“Well forgive me for having terrible memory recall when you break into my house, and kidnap me at this ungodly hour!” Weiss cried, before the doors opened, and Yang bolted out of the elevator and the barn, then up the path leading to the Tube station.

“PUT! ME! DOWN!” Weiss cried as she was bounced about on Yang’s shoulder.

“No! You’re. Way. Too. Slow!” Yang said in-between pants for breath.

The Tube station came into view, Pyrrha was already standing there in her day clothes plus a jacket, patiently waiting with a pleasant smile on her face, up until she saw Yang and Weiss run up. She watched as Yang stuffed Weiss into the log that was already open and waiting, Weiss furiously wrestling to get out, before Yang successfully immobilized her with the safety straps, then shut the hatch.

Everyone could hear Weiss screaming bloody murder from inside the log, up until the Tube technician sent her rocketing off.

<Legal?> Pyrrha asked as Yang climbed into the second Tube.

<Yes,> one of the technicians said, pulling out a physical copy of an agreement Weiss, Yang, and Pyrrha had all signed just days earlier.

Pyrrha slowly nodded, before it was time for her to get into the third and last log.

Less than a minute later, Weiss staggered out of one of the Pits’ Tube stations, grabbing onto a nearby column for support as she gazed out at the lobby before her.

It looked like the interior of some ancient, lavish underground arena, the walls, the floor, and the massive columns liberally decorated with commemorative statues, reliefs, and tapestries of the Valley’s greatest Pit Fighters and legendary clashes, all bathed in a warm orange glow by enchanted torches. Everywhere you looked, you’d find antique, handcarved and shaped stone, metal, and ancient wood; lovingly tended plants and carefully woven displays of elemental magic; shining metallic threads and precious stones; paintings, banners, and emblems made of old canvas, paper, and cloth, decades to centuries or even a thousand years old. The only things that really clashed with the aesthetic were the inevitable abundance of clearly modern posters, banners, and holographic advertisements for the latest fights and notices; the songs and music being used, like this week’s latest hit pop songs; and all the support and gimmicks for comm-crystal apps, and marketing promotions.

Weiss would have to find another day to take it all in, however, as Yang grabbed her hand, and started ploughing through the crowds with her and Pyrrha in tow.

The Pits were packed even for the early hour, folks crowded around the feeds of ongoing fights, cheering in delight or howling in despair; argued with one another over bets and odds, the likeliness of certain match-ups and their outcomes, or their allegiances and devotion to certain Pit fighters; or screamed and gushed over the particularly famous ones doing live appearances and interviews then.

Eventually, they rounded a corner and went down a hall to an entirely different section, where the decorations were much less elaborate and space-consuming, the holos were filled with take-a-number systems and administrative notices, and all the furniture was less luxurious and more utilitarian than the lobby, more long stone benches, than cushy, pillow-filled nests. It was packed to the brim with folks, but much quieter and peaceful, as Pit fighters or their representatives waited to be called up to the counters.

Yang screeched to a halt just before she hit a solid wall of Fae standing around at the very back; she frantically tried to look for a gap between the crowds, a path to the ticketing machine, and groaned as she found none. She turned to Weiss, put her hands on her shoulders, and said, “Air Xiao Long.”

Weiss scowled, and replied, “I am not doing that.”

“I don’t think you realize I wasn’t asking,” Yang said, before she picked Weiss up.

“HEY!” Weiss cried. “YANG, PUT ME DOW--!”

Yang threw her, heads turned and ears twitched as Weiss’ went sailing above the crowds, past some hanging decorations, signs, and lighting, before she hit a floor-to-ceiling banner, rolled down its length, and safely onto the floor.

“TICKET!” Yang shouted from behind the sea of folks. “GET A TICKET, WEISS!”

Weiss scowled as she picked herself up by the edge of the nearby counter, held out her hand, and a small bird calmly put one in her hand.

“DID YOU GET IT?!” Yang yelled from the back, hidden by all the folks in-between.

“GOT IT!” Weiss yelled in reply, raising her hand and the ticket into the air, before she had a moment of realization, and awkwardly put it back down. She clutched it tightly in her fingers before she started to squeeze into the crush and back to Yang and Pyrrha, excusing herself and apologizing all the while.

In the back of her head, she started plotting her revenge...

[manofnosleep]

An unforgiving void

People who wake up from comas usually say that they experience moments of... what's the word?

Lucidity! Yeah, that's it.

They usually say that they wake up, with their mind blank and a type of patient feeling- like they’re waiting for something.

Not me though, that was anything but the case for me though. No, I couldn’t have just woken up, feeling like no time had passed. No, I couldn't have just awoken with joy- happy, that I was still alive after the crash.

I was lucid the entire time. I remember, to this day every painful detail of what happened. I remember the feeling of impending doom as I looked out my driver's side window, seeing the bus that was about to T-bone me- sending my car through the air in a perfect spiral like a masterfully thrown football. And at that moment? When I saw the glass shatter? And the metal scream in agony as it contorted from the force of the crash? And the searing pain as the glass cut through my cheekbone? I remember only thinking to myself, almost in prayer, one thing.

I this exact moment in time when I saw the glass shatter and the metal screeching in agony as it contorted from the ------. The searing pain that lasted a few brief seconds until something more excruciating pain overwhelmed the first pain All I could think of almost like a prayer repeating over and over in my head.

Please god no, not like this, not like this.

In the span of what my mind perceived as an eternity, my car did a triple flip in the air and finally landed on its roof. As I saw the blue and red lights, I managed to crack a small smile with what little bit of in-tact facial muscle I had left. Then it all faded to black.

By the time I came to, I was being wheeled into the hospital on a gurney, facing towards a guy looking not directly at my eyes, but as if he were staring at something slightly below it. When he finally looked in my eyes, he stuttered out of few words, but I couldn't hear them. I was fading, and fast at that. I faded in and out frequently at that point, barely even registering what was going on around me, until I finally saw the silhouette of a figure, God himself I hoped, sticking a small needle into a tube.  

After that, it was just pitch black for me. Pitch. Fucking. Black.

I couldn't move, see, or even talk. I panicked for my life, and in the worst way possible. You see, my body was apparently so damaged, that I wasn't even expected to make a full recovery, much less even make it off the table with a pulse. My mind, however, seemed to be in the opposite condition- fully operational, and going into overdrive with all the provoking thoughts and questions I asked myself in that black, cold void of a prison.

Where am I? Whos doing this? Am I still alive? Where is everyone I cant see them help oh god please no this can't be I don't want this please someone help me it's so dark and cold I can't move I can't move please someone anyone just let me out why is this happening… Is this hell?

Then I started feeling again.

The first feeling I felt came from my abdominal region, where I could feel something besides the unrelenting cold: something thick and warm. It was such a relief that I dared not even question it at the moment. Then I felt what could only be described as a frozen stabbing pain, coming from all around, and the sudden lift of pressure from my right side… which soon was replaced with a blazing sensation as if someone had taken a clothes iron to my shoulder.

I had no voice, no control over anything- and yet I felt the need to scream, I needed to scream so badly that I gave my all into screaming into the eternal void of my mind, only to have it all come echoing back at me. And that's all I could do.

That's all I could do.

Flailing my arms like a child was no longer within my capabilities, and neither was contorting my muscles to show the pain like a normal human being. I was powerless, TRULY POWERLESS.

You see, if someone holds you down and stabs you, you still have that option of at least trying to break free, you still have the power to do so. You can still scream and kick and resist with every inch of your being, with every fiber of your soul and the power of your will- all at a moments notice.  

That's what I was stripped of…

For weeks.

For weeks, after the searing pain, I could hear everything around me, even slightly feel whatever touched me. I could hear footsteps echoing down a corridor, hear the scrapping of a pen on paper and even feel the vibrations of when someone was being wheeled down a hall. I could even make out bits of people’s conversations, and detect even faint traces of bright lights; all while I was held captive in a prison of my own making. Days and nights were indistinguishable, and time was a concept that seemed to no longer have any meaning. I hated every second of it.

Now at this point, you have to understand. You have to understand that such detachment from the real world can drive a man mad. Even the strongest minds in the world, are no match for the most primitive form of torture: Isolation.

Finally, when my patience had reached its limit, my sanity shattered. I thrashed and screamed silently within my own head, trying to establish control over the body that I once called mine. My mind even tired from the constant struggle of trying to take it all back. It all felt hopeless, my muscles made no moves, and I was beginning to lose my last form of attachment to the real world: my hearing.

I nearly gave it all up and accepted the living hell I undeservingly lived in.

Then, the smallest ember rekindled my will to live. A muscle tensed, but only for a short moment in my arm. And by god that short, sweet moment was the only sign I needed that told me that I had not truly been forsaken. I continued my thrashing for an ungodly amount of time, and managed to at least tense up most of my body’s muscles, and clear the rust from my stone-heavy joints. After a bit more time I even regained control of my digits, and even full control of one of my arms and both eyelids. Then, my vocal cords finally came around.

I fluttered my eyelids for the first time in god knew how long, and I used my left arm to push myself upright. And for my final boast of victory, I let out a guttural growl that turned into a cracking howl, that finally got the staff’s attention. Within 15 seconds, 3 nurses and a doctor made their way into my room, where they saw me, smiling a wide grin.

“I’m back fuckers” I managed to growl out.

I hopped onto my semi-functional legs to the floor, and stood tall and strong... at least until I lost balance. But upon my stumble and fall from grace, I made a disturbing discovery.

When I reached forward to catch myself with my right hand. I looked to my right-hand side desperately to see if I would be able to catch myself… only to realize that there wasn't even right arm there.

I fell flat on my chest, in shock of what failed to break my fall. And as the nearby staff rushed to get my back on my feet again, I stood silent. I didn't know what to say other than what my mother used to say whenever I had to give something up.

“A small price to pay, for a big improvement.”

After a few signed papers and a final check-up, I was let go, with the promise of an insurance-covered prosthetic and a note for painkillers.

I still have nightmares about it. The cold, unforgiving hell in my own head I was damned to. But at least I can sleep, knowing that I’m never going back to it.

[vankoya]

Something in the Water.

Genre | Camping / Friends to Lovers AU.

Pairing | Jeon Jeongguk / Feminine Reader.

Words | 25,836 words.

Conspectus | Sleeping in is a foreign concept to Kim Taehyung and his awkward, mismatched gang of pals. This is made all the more apparent when they rock up at ___’s doorstep at the ass crack of dawn, as if it is a natural time for any college student to be awake. 

But when she is informed that it was the youngest of their group who insisted she join them on their spontaneous camping trip, she is suddenly not as reluctant to play along than when she was first awakened by her enigma of a best friend, slamming his fist against her front door.

Warnings | Loads of swearing young adults. Terrible jokes that made my eyes bleed and would one hundred and ten percent make Kim Seokjin proud. A lot of banter. Relatively slow build to tent sex. No, not literally having sex with a tent, just inside– I’ll stop.

Judging by the angle of the sunlight filtering through your blinds, remaining to hover only just above the horizon, it is clear that it is currently a time that you should still, most definitely, be completely dead asleep. Whoever is pounding their fist against your front door seriously needs to piss right off. Otherwise, your early-morning murderous tendencies will begin to take form in 1. your barely suppressed rage, and 2. the baseball bat hidden underneath your bed.

For an infinitesimal moment—amidst you weighing up the possibility of being granted parole if you were to enact second-degree murder on your front doorstep—the knocking stops. But before you can truly appreciate the pleasant buzz in your ears from the sharp, repetitive sound fading into a comfortable silence, the screeching tune of your ringtone flares to life on your bedside table.

“Mother–“ You slam your hand down on the device, blearily looking at the screen to swipe your finger across the ‘answer’ button before continuing to scream into the speaker– “Fucker! Leave me in peace!”

“Never. I have coffee. Answer the door, hoe–”

Mercilessly hanging up, you roll onto your back with your eyes closed. A low, guttural groan emits from your chest due to the voice of your best friend, Kim Taehyung, attempting to bribe you into coherency with your sole point of weakness. And he fucking knows it.

It is an agonisingly difficult decision to make. You could leave the plush comfort of your toasty bed, snatch the coffee out of his hands, and then slam the door back in his face. Or, you could simply abandon the delight of having a coffee until later when you can make one with your own devices. This way, you can snuggle ever deeper into your pillows, and let sleep lift the dreaded weight of being alive from your conscious for a few more hours.

But the further you dwell on the issue at hand, the rising con of the entire dilemma continues to raise its ugly head. That is, Taehyung is not a man who easily gives up. He refuses to take rejection as the immediate answer, most especially when it comes down to you. So, even if you were to put either plan that ultimately results in avoiding him as much as possible into action, he would burn up his phone battery with persistent calls to your cellphone. Even if you turned the device off, he would resort to beating that door down until his fists are no more than bloody stumps at the ends of his wrists.

Thus, the undesirable fact of the matter is that, either way, you are going to have to face Taehyung. And you really do not think you are currently sane enough to do so because, really, is anyone sane if they can be a fully functioning human being before eight in the morning? You rest your case.

As if on cue, the knocking starts again in an increasing staccato. You faintly consider taking the baseball bat with you. Although cracking his skull open may not solve all of your problems, it will at least get rid of three.

You swipe your phone from the bedside table and disconnect the second call trying to ring through. After swinging your legs off the edge of the bed with a disgruntled sigh, you navigate your way through the house with your eyes mostly shut. Your shoulders bounce and thump against the walls while you lethargically progress towards the source of the continuous sound, pounding away like nails being hammered into your temples.

You barely notice in your half-asleep state that, the nearer you approach, the more apparent the sound of boyish voices on the other side of the barrier—separating you from your source of hot, liquefied energy—comes to be. So when you abruptly unlock the front door and swing it open, you are channelling too much focus into ducking out of the way of Taehyung’s knocking fist—which nearly punches you straight in the face—to immediately realise that it is not just him who is trespassing on your front yard.

Expect the unexpected, is always the motto that labels your group of friends. Evidently, today is no exception.

Crookedly parked on the curb that marks the end of your parent’s property is Kim Seokjin’s dual-cab Hilux. The tray is piled high with what seems to be camping supplies in an array of canvas and polyester materials, all strapped down by knotted ropes. The owner of the vehicle himself stands with his hands on his hips. His expression is affronted as he debates about something unintelligible with Kim Namjoon, who is seemingly inspecting a tyre. You make out the words wheel alignment before you focus your gaze onto your one, true tormentor.

Taehyung, without a single takeaway coffee cup in sight, stands on your doorstep with his empty hands hanging limply at his sides. You suspiciously narrow your eyes, and guilt leeches into his tone as he says, “I don’t have coffee, but we’ll be getting some on the way.”

“Rude,” you pitifully kick at him, and he swiftly dodges your foot with practised ease. “What time is it? And on the way to where?”

“Probably just coming up to seven in the AM,” Taehyung chirps, as if it is such a humane time of the day to be this energetic. You can already feel your body sagging with sheer dread at the ungodly hour of the morning, wishing to collapse into the soft cotton of your sheets as your eyes slip closed once more. “But on the note of where, we’re going to the lake that’s three hours up north to get slizzard like lizards. So hey, come camping with us!”

“What the hell,” you grunt, resting your forehead on the doorjamb. You crack one eye open, squinting blearily against the morning sunlight. You can barely comprehend anything that your best friend—who you are slowly beginning to realise has no concept of forewarning people who prefer to sleep-in about such elaborate events—is saying. Your gaze narrows onto a certain someone who is now flailing in the distance over Taehyung’s shoulder. “Is Seokjin wearing pink crocs?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Hmph.”

“So are you in, or are you in?”

You glare at him. “It sounds like you’re not giving me much of a choice on the matter.”

“I’m not,” he grins like a million-dollar lottery winner. “All you have to bring is a pillow and a bag of clothes. We can share my tent and the double-mattress.”

“And exactly how long have you known about this camping trip?”

“Since last night. Jeongguk suggested we invite you, but that was at like, eleven-thirty, so I knew you would already be asleep. I messaged you, though.”

The latter end of his sentence goes unheard. Your hearing zeroes in on that particular name with a riveting jolt of electricity up your spine. Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk. Jeon I-want-you-to-fuck-me-ten-ways-to-Sunday-and-back Jeongguk. Suggested we invite you.

You sound a lot more breathless than you should. “You… you what?”

“Texted you,” Taehyung huffs. You bring your phone to chest-level and light up the screen to see that, indeed, Taehyung had sent you two messages just before eleven-thirty last night.

Received [23:28PM]: tHe PaL oF aLl PaLs

get your vodka face on hoe, we goin’ camping

expect chauffeur at ass crack o’ dawn

“Huh,” you murmur, scowling at the message. You then direct your glare at Taehyung, who seems to legitimately believe that the texts were the perfect forewarning of his arrival at such a sacrilege hour of sleep. “Well I’ll damn be–”

“___!”

Quite literally out of nowhere, Jeon Jeongguk himself leaps onto the patio beside Taehyung, nearly knocking him over in the process like a bowling pin, and successfully startling a screech out of you.

He is the twenty-one-year-old college sophomore who Park Jimin, another addition to your small family of friends, has shared dance classes with since the beginning of last year. Jeongguk was still a freshman then. But he was eventually dragged out to meet the rest of you at-the-time sophomores and seniors for a night down at the college tavern. A place that was highly frequented by the suffering second and third year students.

In your defence, you were beyond the point of a little tipsy by that time of the evening. Thus, your exceptionally loud proclamation of: “Oh my god, he looks like a tiny, baby bunny!” as the first words that the poor kid heard from anyone was mostly excused to your severe lack of sobriety. It was also quick to be smothered by Taehyung, who had covered your mouth and put you in a five-minute headlock. On the other hand, everyone around the table had sputtered into drunken laughter and very vocal agreement.

Albeit he was slightly flustered by your ebullient announcement—and the even more boisterous response that it received—Jeongguk took the remark as a compliment. Rather than, you know, a warning sign that he should pack up his things and run for the hills while he can. Yet, from there onwards, he secured himself a position in your tight social circle as the family favourite; the precious kid that you would all pride over and adore.

Indeed, young, freshman Jeongguk was a darling combination of baby fat cheeks, spindly limbs like a sapling, and large, bunny teeth that would often rest on the jut of his lower lip when he was deeply concentrating. The kind of cute that you want to tuck into your pocket and protect with every inch of your own life, which all seven of you did without question. Besides, it was no hidden secret that Jeongguk lived for the attention. He was always leaning into palms when they would ruffle his hair; nuzzling into fingers when they would cup his cheeks and coo over him; pressing against arms and shoulders on Hoseok and Jimin’s small, ratty couch during Friday movie nights to sap all the body warmth that he could get.

As the year progressed and the friendship ties with the newest addition were sewn all the tighter, you never took much notice of the fact that Jeongguk would brush away the hands of the other guys, and declare his preferences for the only person who was sans a third leg. AKA, you. And to nobody else but you, the sparkle in his eye when you would douse him in your affections was nothing more than that: his eyes catching the sunlight. Frankly, you had no intentions of believing it was anything beyond the midday illumination that was flickering in his iris. Even if Taehyung would be waggling his eyebrows in the distance, and Jimin would be nudging your side with his elbow, making irritable sounds of assumption that would only cease once you grabbed his arm and bent it behind his back.

But it was not until after the winter break that the greatest threat to your existence came to rear its head in a process that you honestly should have foreseen. Jeongguk’s very own kind—the precious fledglings still teetering on the edge of their teenage youth in the two years that surpass its defining bracket—have always been the number one casualty to such lethal evolution, after all.

College puberty.

It is exactly as it sounds. Where general puberty draws the path between childhood and becoming a teenager with the sprouting of hairs in places that no kid could have ever imagined, and the muscle pains that pull infant limbs into jumbles of gangly and awkward; college puberty is precisely the same. Except jacked up on steroids and protein powder, with a side-serving of flirtatious and audacious.

Victim number one, Jeon Jeongguk, slipped into this precise trap while you were studying abroad up until the end of those holidays.

Coming home, you were expecting everything to be the same as when you had left. For the most part, everything was. Your parents were still working abroad nearly every week. Seokjin was still studying like a madman with the fierce intent of making the most of his college tuition. Yoongi remained to have square eyes from staring at the producing software on his desktop for eight hours straight per session. Namjoon had not stopped writing strange Facebook posts about existentialism and the flawed concept of reality hours after midnight. Hoseok had burned himself through two pairs of sneakers, and had practically wore away the lacquer that oiled the floorboards of his dance academy’s practice room. Jimin was still partying like tomorrow would never exist, and was sticking his dick inside of anyone, anything that would give him the consent to do so. Taehyung, of course, had remained to be a pain in the ass that you loathed to adore.

Taehyung had also texted you a slew of emojis the minute your plane landed on the soil of home, jumbled amongst random words such as “muscles” and “bunny”. Hinting at your foredooming. In all of your stupidity, you had not considered in the slightest that maybe the guy was onto something.

Nonetheless, from what you could see, nothing at all had changed during the two months of your absence. In other words, you were completely oblivious and utterly defenceless to the slaughter that your heart and underwear had been bound to endure. A fateful occurrence that had come to fruition on the first night that you had met up with the gang at the college tavern.

The moment you had entered the bar on that fresh, chilly night was when you had noticed the anomaly on the otherwise picture perfect graph of unchanged constants. That teeny, infinitesimal dot of difference was leaning against the service register, waiting for the next round of drinks to be served up so he could take them to the usual table where the rest of your friends were already tipsy.

At first, standing frozen in the entrance of the tavern with the door slowly swinging shut behind you, you could not believe that it was him. You had even briefly considered that he was a close relative or a freakishly similar doppelgänger, who just so happened to attend the same college as the rest of you.

Because Jeon Jeongguk did not have shoulders that broad the last time you saw him. His jeans were never that snug around his newly sculpted ass. Nor did they hug his larger, solid thighs in such a way that not even a finger looked as though it could fit itself between the denim and his skin.

But all of the doubt that was sprouting from your certain identity misplacement had been washed away by a tidal wave of shock when the Jeongguk-lookalike who, in fact, was your very own Jeongguk, turned away from the bar.

A tray of eight pints had been loaded onto his exposed, veiny forearms that bulged from the rolled-up sleeves of his navy, button-down shirt. In the midst of that ninety-degree swivel, his eyes had vaguely passed over your wholly still figure before doing a double-take. Beer foam had slushed over the edges of the glasses in the abrupt whiplash when he noticed that it was you who had been stunned into a silent gawker.

Jeongguk had opened his mouth, closed it, and then repeated the action like a startled fish. All the while, you had stared at his face with an expression of growing disbelief as you had taken in the lack of baby fat cheeks; the newly sharpened edge of his jaw; the mature set to his eyebrows that were on complete, unadulterated display with the way that his dark fringe had been styled away from his forehead. It was a sight that was utterly unacceptable, and so totally not the adorable Jeon Jeongguk that you had farewelled at the beginning of winter.

But apparently, while you were gone, Jeongguk had discovered the campus accommodation’s gym and the 4oz jar of Suavecito Pomade that Namjoon uses liberally on his own hair. An unpredictably toxic combination that had kept you rooted in position while Jeongguk had hastily placed the tray back down on the bar to free his hands.

“___!” he had exclaimed in a tone that was three notches deeper, blasting you with his traditional bunny grin that was suddenly not as endearing as it used to be. Rather, it was a fierce, heart-melting juxtaposition to the entirety of his primed form and projected overwhelming desire into your very soul.

Jeongguk had then strode over and lifted you with startling ease into his arms, murmuring a gentle I missed you into your hair. His touch was a defibrillator reviving your unresponsive heart back to life. Melting into his chest, you had finally caved with a grin of your own and wrapped your arms around his neck.

It was there that a distant part of you had wholeheartedly accepted that you were a fucking goner. Jeongguk officially had his foot stuck in a trap that was designed to drag you down into your own personal hell of tantalising imagination and drool-worthy daydreaming.

That is, Jeongguk, physically, had transformed into a panty-dropping man. Yet he still honed the heart of gold that knew just the right ways to tempt your own.

Fast forward seven months: Jeongguk is now on your doorstep in low-riding grey sweatpants and a black Puma hoodie that matches his same-branded sneakers. He rakes a hand through his distressed bed-hair, wearing a grin soft with sleep. Taehyung is still recovering from the bump that nearly barrelled him off the patio and into your mother’s beloved petunias, theatrically balancing himself against the wall.

What the fuck. He looks unfairly handsome in sweatpants.

“Jeongguk,” you breathe, smiling; trying to not make it obvious that you feel like the walking dead. “So I hear you’re the reason behind this rude wake-up call.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admits, oozing confidence, even at this absurd hour.

You wonder—certainly not for the first time—whether it is just a switch that never flicks off when you are packing an extra fifteen kilos in muscle weight. The comfortable wear of polyester does nothing to hide it, either. It only makes the harsh angles gentler, warmer, as if you might sink right into his chest like maple syrup if he was to wrap his arms around you. Something sweet fizzes in your stomach at the thought.

You only realise Jeongguk had continued to speak once he lowers his head so that your eyes are levelled. He leans in with a quirk of his brow and a cheeky remark of, “You in there, ___?”

You blink, focusing back on him. Jeongguk’s newfound proximity allows a waft of oaky cologne to drift into your senses, sending you into a mild state of delirium. In a meagre attempt to dispel the heat that trickles into the high points of your cheeks, you pinch the bridge of your nose and squint your eyes closed in faux irritation.

"Yes, you ass," you mutter, and Jeongguk’s chuckle recedes as he straightens up. You open your eyes to teasingly glare at him, all the while he wedges his balled up fists into the pouch of his hoodie with a grin.

You fix your gaze on Taehyung, who is brushing off his torso and observing the interaction with a peculiar glint to his iris, which you choose to ignore. "So, what's the plan?"

At that, both of their expressions light up, voices stumbling over one another as they simultaneously say, "You're going to come?"

"Did you really think I was going to say no after you guys dragged me out of bed like this before seven? On a Saturday?” you huff with a twinge of exasperation. They at least have the common sense to look a little sheepish amongst their excitement.

"That's the spirit!" Taehyung hoots, bustling through the doorway and gathering you in a hug that quite literally squeezes a groan out of you. You barely have the chance to reciprocate before he is pulling away and setting his large palms on your shoulders, lips curved in a grin that screams mischief. You one-hundred-and-ten percent have no desire to delve into the reason why. "And chill, man. I promise you can sleep during the drive. Turn that frown upside down and get your things.”

Taehyung looks over his shoulder at Jeongguk, who watches the two of you with his tongue pushing at the inside of his cheek. But it morphs into something tender when Taehyung continues to say, "Jeonggukie, help her out."

"What– No, that's fine!" you fluster, a burning sensation climbing up your throat as you recall the catastrophic state of your bedroom. You grab at Taehyung's wrists to pry his hands from your shoulders, eyes wildly darting between them in a mild panic. "Bag of clothes and a pillow, right? I'll be out in five minutes."

Taehyung gives a sound of acknowledgement before walking back over to Seokjin and Namjoon, whereas Jeongguk remains to hover at the entrance. He looks faintly disappointed, though perhaps you are not nearly as awake as you initially thought, and you mistake the drop in his expression. To ease the atmosphere, you stick your tongue out at him. Then, you turn on your heel to go make the most of those five minutes of peace. Lord knows that Taehyung is already counting down the seconds.

But you are stopped in your tracks by the sound of Jeongguk's voice chasing sweetly after you, tinted with a shade of innocent goading.

"Cute pyjamas, ___," and you can hear the damn grin in his tone, which brings your attention to the apparent lack of that hangs from your figure.

You wear nothing but a tattered shirt, stamped with the faded logo of your university. You received as a freebie during orientation week two years ago; an old, stained thing that is two sizes too big and terribly revealing of your legs. Most of all, it is beyond far from the definition of cute.

Feeling the embarrassment begin to spread to your fingers and toes, you whirl around to bite back with a cutting remark, or perhaps, throw your phone at him. But Jeongguk is already gone like the sneaky motherfucker he is. Thus, you resort to internally screeching at your lack of decorum before storming away to collect your things and change into something substantially more adequate.

By the time you are locking up the house, the sun has climbed a few inches higher, and you are feeling vaguely more human. Your softest pillow is hiked under your arm; a duffel bag is looped over your shoulder by the strap. The daggy, makeshift pyjama-wear has been replaced with a white summer dress, partially covered by a cropped, coffee-cream knit sweater. Jeongguk and Namjoon are already in the car, with Namjoon riding shotgun and Jeongguk seated directly behind him. Seokjin is nowhere to be seen, and Taehyung is leaning against the ute’s tray, irritably tapping his foot like you are a student who is late to class.

"That felt more like seven minutes to me," he brusquely comments, and you ceremoniously flip him off.

“I was saving you guys from my morning breath,” you retort, making a show of running your tongue over your minty, pearly whites. You bat your best friend out of the way with your pillow. “Move aside, slick. What’s the rush, anyway?”

“He’s having separation anxiety from Jimin, who’s carpooling with Hobi and Yoongi,” Seokjin says, popping out from behind the mountain of camping gear. He circles the vehicle in his vibrant pink crocs to stand right before you, regarding your belongings. “Hm, you’ll have to keep those at your feet. They would fit in the tray if somebody hadn’t brought–” His voice rises, leaning back to narrow his stare at the window of the passenger seat– “A goddamn chainsaw!”

Distinctly, you can hear the squeaks of the shoddy window attempting to be briskly wound down. Your eyes remain glued to the haphazard collection of tents and mattresses. “I don’t understand how a chainsaw fits into this equation?“

“Firewood, you sons of bitches,” Namjoon spits scornfully. His head is tilted at a ninety-degree angle to fit through the small gap, made by his feeble attempt of winding the glass down. “I’m saving us the time and energy of scavenging for shitty branches that can barely catch flame. So bow down to me and my genius thinking, peasants. I’m King of the Forest. The Messiah of the Lake. Lord of the–“ Thankfully, Jeongguk cuts Namjoon off with a firm kick to the back of his seat, causing Namjoon to yelp and yank his head back into the car to try and twist the nipples of the youngest.

Taehyung, Seokjin and yourself all spare glances at one another before collectively rolling your eyes. The three of you wordlessly move around the Hilux to jump inside and get the show on the road. Seokjin puts the gears in neutral and starts the engine to warm it up as Taehyung opens the backdoor. Inside, Jeongguk is all bunched up and cosy in his corner of the vehicle, taking in your change of attire with drooping eyelashes and a sweet smile. Your best friend ushers your now flustered self forward with a dramatic sweep of his arm, but you shake your head.

“You take the middle seat, it’s roomy enough,” you say, lifting up your pillow and swallowing the feeling of your heartbeat. “I want to lean this on the window and get the shuteye you promised me.”

“Fair call,” he says, pursing his lips. He almost appears reluctant, but you choose not to question it.

Taehyung climbs in beside an obscurely disgruntled Jeongguk with you following on his heels. You firmly shut the door behind you and place the bag at your feet, leaning forward while you do so to look past Taehyung and scrunch your nose up at the youngest. At that, Jeongguk’s taut expression melts into an endearing little grin that has your heart bounding against your ribcage.

“Alright kids, ready to go?” Seokjin vigorously whoops as he steadily drives the ute off the curb, which is reciprocated by varying levels of excitement from the rest of you. Taehyung throws his arms up and cheers; Jeongguk gives a noncommittal fist pump; Namjoon merrily dances until he painfully cracks his elbow against the centre console; you fluff your pillow up against the window and then bury your face into it.

“Nams, get on the beats, my dude,” you hear Taehyung say. A familiar hand jostles your knee. “___, will you be able to sleep with music playing?”

You peak out of the downy plush with one eye cracked open. “At this stage, I could sleep through the apocalypse. Go for your lives.”

“Sweet!” Taehyung squeezes your leg before releasing it, and you return to your corner of facial comfort. “There’s nothing like the early-2000 hits of a So Fresh CD before eight in the morning.”

His statement is met by two groans of distaste and a sole vociferation of agreement, which distinctly sounds like Namjoon. The pair of them shuffle through a small stack of CD’s, deciding on which So Fresh year to kick off the three-hour trip with. The Hilux picks up a monotonous reverberation that vibrates through your muscles, tingling your bones and making them feel slack and heavy.

Despite the dreadful time of day, you cannot deny the excitement that flickers inside of you at the thought of going on an adventure with your best friends for the first time in years. Camping had been a regular occurrence once Seokjin and Yoongi earned their licenses. The seven of you would always head to the lake that Taehyung’s parents and your own would holiday at when you were both kids.

Now, it is a rarity to indulge in. It is hardly common for all seven of you to have matching schedules of free-time outside of university and your respective part-time jobs. The last time you went as a group, all but Yoongi and Seokjin were seventeen, the two of them being eighteen years old, which was at least five years ago. None of you even knew of Jeongguk back then.

That thought settles tight in your stomach; a knot of exhilarating uncertainty, tightening with the knowledge that he was the one who said to bring you along. There is no doubt that, over the past seven months, a small bud of something has planted itself within your chest. A something that carefully and unsurely blooms with every new interaction that you have with Jeongguk. Whether it be catching him staring at you from across the room, spending your free-time on a Wednesday studying together at the library, or the frequent manner in which his fingertips brush your sides, shoulders, lower back, in the most tender of ways. So gentle that, sometimes, you hardly even notice it.

Sure, the both of you have been friends for nearly two years, at this stage. But the level of tentative intimacy and hazy tension has steadily grown since Jeongguk’s transformation. The basis of your every interaction has become centred on stolen glances, private smiles, and flirtatious comments that have you biting your lip, cheeks glowing with heat.

Jeongguk hardly hones a shred of the adorable, young aura of his freshman year anymore. Maybe that is why you could only ever see him as the little brother of the group back then, no matter that he was twenty-years-old and knuckling down on his first semester for Screen Production.

Now, he catches attention like a Venus flytrap. It took a while for the group to get used to it. Though it quickly became commonplace that, wherever the lot of you would go, Jeongguk was bound to be pulled up by anyone and everyone who would try to weasel the ten-digits of his phone number out of him.

And much like the carnivorous plant, Jeongguk lures in the unsuspecting prey with his unbearably appealing looks and charming personality. He practically has the poor victims drooling all over him like lapdogs, desperate for attention. Yet at the very moment they believe they have him, perhaps gingerly placing a hand on an area of his body that hints with lustful suggestion, the pin drops and Jeongguk snaps shut. The warm smile freezes over into a icy facade. Whatever sentence he was speaking is curtly severed at the centre. He quickly downs the rest of his drink, and abruptly brushes past the suddenly perplexed prey, who watches on with wide, stupefied eyes as Jeongguk strides away without a single glance back at them.

It tends to be convenient for you, as this kind of incident usually occurs right around the time you are stuck in a sticky situation with an overly drunk guy who cannot take a goddamn hint. Jeongguk always magically sweeps in to save you with an arm around your shoulders and a hard glare directed at the drunkard.

“Why do you do that?” you had asked one night, arm looped through his own as you had walked down the empty streets together. You were staring up at the murky night sky; vodka still tasted toxic on the roof of your mouth.

Jeongguk had hummed, feeling warm against your side. “Do what?”

“Abandon a solid opportunity to… y’know,” you had given a vague jerking off gesture with your free hand, slanting your gaze to him with a raise of your brows, “relieve some stress? You always get up and leave them, right when they’re just about ready to take you home. You butter them up for it too, like a real dick cheese.”

He had looked down at you then, remained silent for a while, contemplation dancing around in his eyes like the stars pinwheeling above. You had been on the cusp of certainly intoxicated, a pleasant heat soaking your limbs, vision attaining a fuzzy vignette at the edges. You had sworn there was a secret hiding between his damp, rosy lips. But it may have merely been the shadows playing tricks, for the boy had stared right back at you and bit down on his truths.

“I start realising they’re not worth my time.”

“Truly, a dick cheese,” you had scoffed, and Jeongguk had done nothing but laugh in response until his lungs could no longer manage.

So, whether the feelings are requited is another question entirely. Maybe, you are waiting for him to snap shut on you too; to realise his time best be wasted elsewhere, crushing the bloom of something that is beginning to spread dangerously close to your heart. Maybe, that is a thought for you to push aside and deal with when you are alone and can sort out your feelings. You refuse to be woken up this early just to have your good mood dampened before the trip has truly begun.

Ten minutes into the drive, and the four boys are singing along to the lyrics of Because I Got High by Afroman. With your temple bouncing against the pillow, and a smile tilting the corners of your lips at their theatrics, you slip back into the slumber that you deserve.

When your eyes pry open, a film of softening lethargy blurs your vision, and you feel toasty.

The sound of Island In The Sun by Weezer and the loud thrum of an engine steadily grows in your hearing. The bliss of unconsciousness slips away, leaving your memory muddled for the first ten seconds of returning to reality. Then, you remember your friends at your doorstep at the break of dawn; the spontaneous kumbaya camping trip; a promise genuinely fulfilled for you to gain the few hours of sleep that you had lost as a result.

Slowly, you blink away the bleariness and listlessly bury a knuckle into your left eye socket, effectively speeding up the process. Once you are almost able to see clearly, you gradually realise it is not a pillow that you are cosily tucked against. Rather, it is Taehyung with his arm curled loosely around your shoulders.

Placidly, you breathe in. The mouthwatering, roasted scent of steaming hot coffee fills your senses, leaving you absolutely salivating for a taste of the liquefied heaven.

“Tae,” you croon groggily, languidly moving your head from where it is pressed to the side of his chest. You rest your chin on his shoulder and lick your dry lips with anticipation. “Give me the…“

Your sentence trails off, caught somewhere within the second of comprehension where your gaze focuses on the face of your best friend, looking down at you attentively.

Except it is not Taehyung.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” trickles honey sweet into your ears. An icy, horrified chill rushes over your body, like you have been dumped butt-naked into the Arctic Ocean.

“Oh,” is all you can say, staring wide-eyed at Jeongguk for a passing breath. You unintentionally bask in the proximity before you lurch back from him with a strangled squeal. Taehyung makes a sound of protest when Jeongguk, startled, rips his arm away from you and crashes against the person who was supposed to be sitting in the middle. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry Jeongguk, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you–”

“It’s fine, I was cool with it,” Jeongguk shrugs, wearing a darling smile that renders you a little too breathless for your liking. Then, he lifts his hand towards you. His long fingers hold a takeaway cup of the sole thing you have been dying for since you were so rudely awoken.

“‘Give me the coffee’ was it?” he continues from where you had initially left off. The corners of his mouth climb higher as you greedily grab at the cooling caffeine, taking a sip from the plastic lid without an inch of hesitation. You barely manage to withhold a moan of delight as the strongly roasted flavour graces your tastebuds.

“Lifesaver,” you pleasantly hum as a way of thanks. Drinking another mouthful of coffee, you readjust yourself to lean against the window, facing Jeongguk, who plucks his own coffee from the cardboard tray positioned on the centre console.

Jeongguk continues to watch you with such intrigue that you nearly wish to ask him if there is something on your face. Your knee remains to rest against his own; hard to avoid when his thighs are just that big. The middle seat is not exactly fitting for someone as broad and bulky as him. Well, not that you are complaining. He slightly sways his leg side-to-side in a fidget, knocking softly against your own and sending fizzles of electricity through your nerves with each bump.

You clear your throat of the built-up grogginess, asking, “When did you guys stop?”

“About fifteen minutes ago at the usual gas station we go to, the one that’s half an hour out from the lake,” Seokjin says, nursing his own cup of coffee. In the review mirror, his eyes cut towards Taehyung, who is bunched up against the opposite window to you and singing along to the music. “But that wasn’t the first stop. Oh no, we stopped three times before that so Taehyung could take a leak on the side of the road. Lord knows where all that piss is even coming from when he hasn’t had any liquids since last night. He’s on a piss ban, now. No more stops.”

“I’m right here, asshole,” Taehyung barks loudly over the music, face screwed up with distaste as he folds his arms like a stubborn infant. You smirk around your coffee cup, amusement hardly contained. “What if I need to go again?”

“No more stops,” Seokjin firmly states, expression stoic. Taehyung huffs indignantly. “We’re like, twenty minutes away from the lake, now. You can hold it; piss out the window; I don’t give a shit. We’re not stopping again.”

“Want the rest of my coffee?” Jeongguk impassively asks, nudging Taehyung with his elbow and presenting a taunting grin, proffering him his own takeaway drink.

Your disbelieving laughter for having the nerve to mess with Seokjin is quickly steeped into a shriek—-paired with three others of varying pitch—as the aforementioned rapidly swerves the Hilux into the opposite lane. Your bodies are flung from right to left as you scream, desperately clutching to your coffees and each other. Almost immediately, Seokjin swerves back into the correct lane with an expression fit for murder. All the while, Rivers Cuomo tranquilly sings on an island in the sun, we’ll be playin’ and havin’ fun in a fine juxtaposition to the situation.

The car is stunned into silence as it straightens up. Seokjin continues on driving as though nothing ever happened—like he did not nearly guide you all to your deaths in a fit of rage.

After a forbearing pause, with vigilant movements like he is trying not to wake a sleeping dragon, Namjoon effectively cuts off the next song by ejecting the CD. He checks the backs of the other covers until he seemingly comes across a track-list he likes. Popping the So Fresh: The Hits of Summer 2007 disc from its casing, he then inserts it into the player before silently skipping through all the songs. Once he reaches the thirteenth track, he turns the volume up.

He stares right at Seokjin, whose eyes remain fixed on the road with a determination to not appease him, as the steady tempo of Ne-Yo’s When You’re Mad starts to fill the car. When the first lyric hits, Namjoon throws himself into an over-exaggerated, dramatic lip sync; wild hand gestures, pained facial expressions and all.

You swear you hear Seokjin say, I’m going to kill every last one of you. But it is hard to tell amongst the hysterical laughter that resounds through the backseat in a grand cacophony. Namjoon does not let up, and neither does the laughter exploding like fireworks in your belly—not until Seokjin finally cracks a smile at his best friend when he passionately mouths, baby I don’t know why it’s like that, but you’re so damn sexy when you’re mad.

You lift your hand to wipe at the falling tears of hilarity, only to notice an unfamiliar weight against your palm. Pressed warm and comfortable between your knuckles. When you suspiciously glance down, it is to see a hand holding your own.

Jeongguk’s hand, specifically.

It happens in two stages. First stage: you stare dumbly at your entwined hands. Clockwork ticks and clicks in your brain as it processes the image that your vision observes; wondering how, let alone when on earth these two metacarpi came to be joined.

Although his hand is much bigger in comparison, your own manages to fit snugly within its grasp. Your palms are pressed cosily against one another in such natural placement that you would suspect holding hands was nothing new; a habit developed during gradual, intimate time. Jeongguk’s fingers—long and calloused with bitten nails—rest gingerly on the back of your hand. His thumb, crossed over your own, idly glides up and down the length of it in a tender gesture that has the tips of your ears warming. The heightened thrum of your pulse suddenly becomes cognisant at the under of your jaw; audible in your hearing as your eyes follow his thumb back and forth, back and forth.

Second stage: you panic.

Rather than an external, fling-his-hand-away-like-it’s-fire panic, it is more an internal screech of dreadful embarrassment. It fills your chest like beach sand; hot and heavy. It is not that you do not want to hold his hand. It is a nice hand. A very warm appendage that connects to his blue-veined wrist; to his scarred elbow; to his sturdy bicep; to the rest of the fantastic being that is Jeon Jeongguk.

But that is precisely the problem. This is Jeon Jeongguk. You are holding his hand. A hand that you have thought about having down your panties more times than one. A hand that you are not sure whether you should let go of, or if you should keep holding onto it, or if Jeongguk is even remotely okay with this unexpected situation. For all you know, he could be as in the dark as you were for god knows how long.

But the thumb runs over your own again, catching on your smaller knuckle before it descends to your nail. Honestly, there is no possible way that it could be a subconscious action.

Tearing your eyes away from your interlaced fingers for what feels to be the first time in a slow-burn eternity, you dart them between Namjoon, Seokjin and Taehyung. All three of them are completely absorbed in belting out Happenin’ All Over Again by Young Divas, unaware of the mental breakdown that is occurring on the leftmost side of the backseat. But, if anything, it concretes your decision.

Pulling yourself together, you inhale deeply, feeling your lungs balloon as you remind yourself that this is Jeongguk; your friend. He will not be weird about it. You always touch each other. You always lean on each other. You never hold hands but sweet baby Jesus on a fucking pogo stick–

You jostle his hand in your own. It is just a faint jiggle; a motion that could go by easily unnoticed if he was not particularly paying attention. Though Jeongguk instantly ceases his participation in the singalong and tilts his chin down to look at your hand, which now slightly quivers within his own.

Slowly, he drags his eyes up to meet your own that watch him like a deer sensing a predator. Not an inch of surprise or consternation swells within his sombre irises. If anything, tinges of amusement dance about his pupils in flecks of lighter brown, catching the sunlight that filters through the passing pine trees. They illuminate like filaments of copper.

Jeongguk smiles. He fucking smiles. He knew the entire damn time and did not think to utter a single word.

“When– When did this happen?” you stammer quietly through tight lips. Your frantic eyes flick between his own, which steadily begin to change from bright and curved to something wider, distinctly stricken.

“You didn’t know?” Jeongguk begins to frown, brows pulling taut at the centre. You marginally shake your head so as not to be too obvious.

“No idea.”

“But it happened when the car flung– When we– You grabbed– Oh,” Jeongguk stumbles and fumbles until he comes to his private realisation. Confused, you watch on as Jeongguk seemingly appears at war with himself. His gaze darts around the car, as if he is trying to join the pieces of his mental puzzle together. Then, it settles back on your own, eyes soft and his expression even softer, cheeks minutely pinking and wow, is he really blushing?

There is a fond squeeze of your hand, small and endearing. Petals wildly blossom between your ribs as the corners of Jeongguk’s lips colour with benevolence. His fingers are painstakingly slow in their withdrawal from your own as he mumbles, “All good.”

Smiling back as casually as you can manage, you repeat his words. The tears on your cheeks are already dry, yet you feel an undefinable urge to wipe at them until you have rubbed your skin raw. “All good.”

Retracting your hand to lay it limply in your lap, you finish off the last of your coffee. You try to not concentrate on how it feels indescribably empty, like it has never experienced the sensation of not being held before.

“Look at you, ___, playing Chinese whispers with Jeongguk and leaving me hanging out to dry,” Taehyung interrupts, faux sulking by jutting out his lower lip.

You roll your eyes and ignore the rise of heat to your cheeks when you notice the cocky grin that plasters itself to Jeongguk’s expression. A vast contradiction to the abashment that was settling on his features no more than ten seconds ago.

“If I recall correctly, it’s you who is having separation issues from Jimin,” you lean past Jeongguk to sneer at him. “I thought I was supposed to be your best friend, you traitor.”

“You are my best friend,” Taehyung tuts, then splays his palms towards the both of you, gesturing them in circular motions like he is cupping something round. “But I can’t deny my ‘must-hold-Jimin’s-giant-ass’ callings. My hands are feeling weak already.”

“I’d say that’s a creepy calling, but I kind of agree with you,” Namjoon pitches in from the front of the cab. “Jimin has a succulent ass that is destined to be caressed at all available times.”

“Ay, finally someone who understands me!” Taehyung crows, reaching over to clap Namjoon on the shoulder with a wide grin. Jeongguk and yourself glance at one another, utterly deadpan.

“Are you feeling as sick as I am?” he asks, and you nod.

“Like I wanna projectile vomit all over Seokjin’s seats.”

“Don’t you dare,” the owner of the car bluntly states, and you crack an apologetic smile at him through the review mirror reflection. The poor guy has already endured too much this morning.

“Oh shit, it’s The Black Eyed Peas! Let’s pump that shit up!” Taehyung hoots, and Seokjin immediately twists the volume knob of the radio to its full capacity, drowning out the rest of the steadily descending line of conversation.

Pump It sharply blares through the crackling speakers, thrusting everyone into an overboard rendition of the 2007 classic. Limbs fling this way and that as interpretive car dance is made in the limited space. Jeongguk leans into you with his hands cupped around his mouth to shout the louder! part at the rest of the car, which you are quick to join in on, circling your palms around your lips and yelling alongside him.

The hand holding incident is not forgotten, only pushed to the back of your thoughts for now.

Nobody registers the sound of a seatbelt clicking open during Fergie’s verse until the squeak of a window being rolled down becomes apparent. All attention is directed towards Taehyung, who has manoeuvred in his seat to be kneeling, facing the open window. The purest moment of speechless stupefaction occurs, akin to what it would be like watching a velociraptor casually stroll down main street.

That moment is shattered when the sound of a zipper being undone is heard loud and clear.

“Holy shit–”

“Taehyung, don’t–!”

“You said the window, so the window it–“

“Stop! I’m fucking pulling over, you pissing maniac!”

The cusp of midday is approaching. The trees are beginning to grow denser with the telltale signs of nearing the campsite; winding around the bending road in a barrier of lush green and thick, sturdy trunks. Everyone has stripped out of their hoodies and sweaters. The early summer heat slowly filters into the morning, settling on skin in a film of salty stickiness.

All of the windows are wound down. The warm wind carries the sappy, elevating scent of the pines throughout the Hilux. The richness of it soaks into everyone’s senses in a refreshing aroma that uproots memories of being young and carefree; oblivious to the reality of growing up. When you hang your arm out of the window, palm facing the sky, golden sunlight pools in your hand. With fondness and euphoria, you smile.

“Are you excited for your first time seeing the secret spot, Jeonggukie?” Seokjin calls out above the music and wind, beginning to lay weight on the brakes as the turn-off approaches.

Before Jeongguk can answer, Taehyung is hooking an arm around the younger’s neck, yanking him roughly into his side and grinning like a fool. “Yeah dude, you’re officially in now. You’re one of the cool kids!”

“There’s not a single thing that’s cool about you guys,” Jeongguk teases, effortlessly wrestling his way out Taehyung’s spindly arm. Jeongguk pushes his fringe out of his eyes, and there is a tender edge to his features that has your heart constricting. “But I’m keen. I’ve heard so much about this damn lake over the past year that I hope it lives up to the expectations you’ve all set. I’m anticipating a lake made of liquefied gold, and a campsite that comes with full bars of reception and free wifi.”

Namjoon barks out a sharp laugh. “What, so you can keep in contact with all of your side hoes that blow up your phone twenty-four seven?”

At that, Jeongguk flushes a deep rubescent hue and hangs his head while the rest of the boys join in on poking fun. Something heavy and uncomfortable settles in the pit of your stomach at the thought. Jealousy, the voice in the back of your mind suggestively whispers. Though you tear out its vocal chords and cast your eyes back out the window.

The weight eases just a little when you hear Jeongguk murmur it’s not like that amidst the fray. The thought has you feeling slightly guilty. It is not as if you are dating Jeongguk, or that anything explicitly more than friendship exists between you.

So, you bend your elbow against the sill and lean your head atop it, staring at him and voicing words to save him from the onslaught.

“It’s nothing special, just a lot of dirt and trees and water, but there are plenty of memories down there,” you nudge his knee with your own, which has him jolting in surprise. You cannot help but tilt your lips at the sight. “I completely forgot you haven’t been to the lake yet. It feels like you’ve been with us forever.”

“Sentimental, but true,” Namjoon adds in as the ute slows right down, turning down the ‘secret’ trail that weaves tightly between the trees and leads right to the campsite; the lake’s edge. “I’ve thought about that for a while now. I swear that every memory I have of being down at that campsite, I can see Jeongguk somewhere in the picture. We’re all living in the Mandela Effect.”

“Isn’t that when there’s mass false recollection? Nobody but you said you have memories of Jeongguk being with us. It’s only you with false memory, dude,” Taehyung points out.

Namjoon turns around in his seat so that he can incline his chin towards you. “___ said she has memories of Jeongguk being with us.”

You raise an eyebrow. “No, I said it feels like he’s been with us forever. My brain ceases to place Jeongguk’s face anywhere in the memories of us being down there. It was only the seven of us, and before that, it was just Taehyung and our families.”

Namjoon suspiciously squints at you. “I’m telling you, Jeongguk was the one who had the snake in his tent at three in the morning.”

You shake your head. “That was Hoseok.”

“… Jeongguk was the one who set his shorts on fire when we were all leaping over the campfire?”

Taehyung raises his hand like he is swearing to an oath in a courtroom. “That, as unfortunate it is to admit, was me.”

Namjoon looks deeply disturbed. He flicks his gaze between you and Taehyung before it lands on Jeongguk, suddenly appearing rather uncertain. “You’ve never been to the lake before?”

“I have,” Jeongguk unexpectedly pipes up with a wicked grin that has three sets of eyes on him, staring roundly, utterly unsettled. There is something disconcerting about the glint of his pearly canines, though the why only becomes apparent when you glance out the window.

Namjoon jabs a shaking finger towards Jeongguk, his tone near hysterical. You try to not sputter into a fit of laughter.

“See, I fucking said–“

“It’s because we’re here, you moron,” Seokjin punctuates by shutting off the engine. The ute is now parked along the tree-line of the lake’s campsite. Jeongguk hilariously waggles his eyebrows at Namjoon, who is now staring deadpan at him.

“Screw you,” Namjoon snaps, and it is all that is needed to set Jeongguk into a howling bout of laughter. He skilfully avoids the digs and punches that Namjoon tries to land before scrambling to safety outside of the car, once the rest of you have lumbered out.

With a deep breath, you take in the scenery; unchanged, no matter the years that have passed.

It is a spacious area of soil, moss and roots. Though it quickly becomes cramped and homely once the entire camp is set up; tents and chairs and the shades of the makeshift kitchen; surrounded by the thick expanse of the forest that breaks off and slopes down to the left at the shore of the lake. The circle of rocks that forms the handmade fire pit is still situated off-centre to the clearing. The dirt at the centre is a shade of grey, tainted with old ashes; past flames that heard singalongs and ghost stories from two generations worth of friends and family.

The tiny wooden pier—with its pillars coated in generous layers of slimy, green, congregated lake particles—remains to stretch out from the dirt and rock declivity into the massive body of water. The lake catches the sunlight by the handfuls; its surface glittering gold. Floating roughly ten metres deeper from the end of the jetty is the pontoon; a five-by-five buoyant platform that has been anchored in place for as long as you can remember. The rust on the metal ladder has never deterred anyone from using it, and you are certain that the case will be the same this weekend.

“Wow,” Jeongguk suddenly says from beside you, watching the dust motes dreamily float through the cascading sunlight. Warmth fills your stomach at his awed, delighted expression that slips down to stare at you. “For some dirt, trees and water, it looks pretty amazing.”

“Are you calling me dirt, trees and water?” you mock with a grin that only grows wider as Jeongguk looks away, smiling with a groan. He ruffles your hair and does not saying anything to refute it.

A glow sits high on your cheeks and the stars sparkle in your eyes. You trail after him as he circles the Hilux to help untie and unload the camping gear with the other three boys.

“Hey losers, took you long enough,” Hoseok calls out from the other side of the small clearing. He is reclined in a camper chair between Yoongi and Jimin, who are sitting in similar fashion. The three of them look like the cats that got the cream with their two tents already pitched up, ready to go, cold beers in hands.

“We had to pick up the extra package because Seokjin is shit at paper-scissor-rock, not our fault,” says Namjoon, pulling out a set of camper chairs to hand off to Taehyung. It takes you a stagnant moment to realise that he had just briefly directed his gaze to you.

“You guys did paper-scissors-rock to choose who would have to detour and pick me up?” you scoff. Mild irritation niggles at the forefront of your mind as you, with an unintentional amount of misdirected aggression, yank a tent from Jeongguk’s hands. He noticeably bites his tongue to hold back his laughter. “Bunch of dicks, I tell you. I’m never waking up at the ass-crack of dawn for you guys again.”

“It wasn’t to decide who was picking you up, it was to decide which car Jeongguk was going–” Jimin is quickly cut off by the clip of Yoongi’s palm to the back of his head, breaking into a yelp as he cowers away from the boy in all black and his quick reflexes.

Confusion settles across your expression, brow pinching as you stare at the scene. You wonder what on earth Jimin possibly could have meant. The scepticism stretches all the further when you look back to Jeongguk as he passes you a bag full of kitchen utensils, noticing that his features are twisted into a vague grimace of awkward humiliation.

Before you can part your lips to question it, Yoongi tilts his chin down and narrows his gaze over the top of his sunglasses. “Why are you all looking so traumatised, by the way?”

“Taehyung,” says Seokjin in a monotone as Namjoon simultaneously says, “Jeongguk.” Yoongi silently gives a single nod of acknowledgement; not needing, nor wanting to hear any further.

Jeongguk chuckles evilly. Taehyung is looking downright offended.

“I can’t help it that my bladder is the size of a pea-pod. All I was doing was following direct instructions, thank you very much,” Taehyung argues, dumping the mattress the both of you are sharing into the dirt. You cringe at the fact that you have to sleep on it later, hoping no ants or other teeny bugs attempt to crawl into its fabric to then find home on any inch of your body in the middle of the night.

Seokjin thrusts a gas bottle at Taehyung with a sickly sweet smile, bumping it into his stomach with an oof. “It was a figure of speech, you delightful little shit.”

“Some things are best left a mystery,” you hear Hoseok mutter, and the smile returns to your lips.

You good-naturedly roll your eyes at your best friend, whose disgruntled pout slowly begins to dissolve. Taehyung has never been one who can stay angry for too long at a time.

The rest of the tray is unloaded within fifteen minutes. Gear is strewn around the campsite—from flashlights, tarps, coils of rope, air mattresses, frying pans, picnic-ware, and everything in between—as everyone calls shots on where they wish to set up their tent. Taehyung, of course, manages to score the worst spot on the soil. Right where the sunlight will be hitting the nylon material the moment it peeks over the tree line. You cannot help but groan, since there is genuinely nothing worse than waking up sweaty within what feels to be a tightly sealed space heater.

Seokjin and Namjoon lumber off down the walking trail that leads to the fresh water shower to see if it is still in good, working condition. Jeongguk swiftly gets onto setting up his own two-man tent. Jimin and Hoseok pitch the canopy for the ‘kitchen’ in record-breaking time, with Yoongi dragging the fold-up table, gas bottle, burner stove, and coolers underneath it. They methodically arrange all of the food, fresh water and utensils within the area.

On the other hand, the rich enthusiasm you had been feeling for the trip quickly dissipates into a sour taste at the back of your throat. Taehyung, as much as you love him, is the worst possible person to be paired with for camping. He is too easily distracted by the more fun things to do, like a fascinated toddler riding out a sugar rush. Such a mood snowballs further downhill when Jimin and Hoseok, finished with their duties, strip their shirts and announce that they are taking to the water for a dip.

Taehyung, who just dumped the contents of the tent bag in a disorderly heap at his feet, looks towards the two boys as they start off towards the lake. Then, he averts his blank gaze to you.

“Don’t,” you firmly start, pointing at him with what you hope is a convincingly intimidating look. “Don’t you even dare think about it.”

His expression is devoid of all emotion, masking his thoughts. “We can always go for a swim and then pitch the tent.”

“No, we’re doing it now to get it over and done– Stop taking your shirt– Taehyung!”

“Jeonggukie can help you out,” Taehyung, with his tee hanging around his neck, prompts with an incline of his head towards the aforementioned. Jeongguk looks up in the middle of hammering the last peg of his tent into the earth, obliviously raising his eyebrows at Taehyung. “You’ll do that, yeah, dude? Help ___ pitch up our tent?”

Jeongguk wipes the back of his hand against his sweaty forehead and drags his eyes from Taehyung to you. He proffers a tilt of his lips that has the sour taste deliquescing into honey, laving over your tongue in golden, sugary gratification. “Can do. Not all of us are useless around here.”

“That’s a jab I’m willing to take from you,” Taehyung solemnly nods, continuing to take his shirt off before shooting you—who is staring daggers at him—double finger guns and a wink. “You’re the best. I promise I’ll make it up to you in ten boba coupons.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, you just remember that,” you wave your best friend off with a half-hearted sneer, ushering him out of the way so you can crouch down and start sorting out the tent gear.

Almost immediately, a larger presence joins you, smelling of salt and earth. When you meet Jeongguk’s eyes, stained glass that reflects mirth from across the small pile, you squint with disapproval and mutter, “You shouldn’t have to do this, Jeongguk. If you had of said no, he would’ve been guilted into helping out like he should be.”

“I wanted to help you,” Jeongguk shrugs and sets aside the bundle of collapsible poles. He takes the rolled up tent and stands up to unravel the nylon.

You cannot deny the fuzzy feeling that forms along your nerves at his pure sense of goodwill. As you piece one of the tent poles together, Jeongguk lays out the deconstructed tent, coming back up to your side to take the other collapsed pole. He repeats your actions with it, and then continues his train of thought with, “Besides, it’s his loss. Who could leave somebody as cute as you to fend for yourself?”

For a moment, you are certain your heart has stopped. Completely and entirely. Not even an EKG could show any positive signs of life; flatlined on the monitor. Your hands freeze and you slowly blink, reprocessing what Jeongguk had said in such a casual manner, like he was doing nothing more than discussing the daily news.

Somebody as cute as you.

The defibrillator charges, starts you back to life, and you drag your gaze from the pole in your hands to view Jeongguk’s expression. A tiny smirk colours his lips into something dark, conniving in a way that suggests he knew exactly what he was doing; how it would affect the feeble vessel dully thudding within your chest. It takes a second longer of sudden silence for him to meet your stare.

He raises an eyebrow, utterly unperturbed. You swear to all of the gods that this boy is an enigma, set on laying you upon your deathbed.

“Taehyung, what the living and breathing fuck,” Yoongi is heard blurting out. Both you and Jeongguk snap your eyes away from one another, focusing on Yoongi, who’s staring agape from the kitchen table with disgust at the man whose name he just vociferated. “What are those?!”

“So you say that about my pants, but not about Seokjin’s pink crocs? Your crush is showing, man,” Taehyung exclaims as his fingers yank at the zips just above the knees of his cargo pants, a feature you genuinely believed was only there for decoration.

Well, that is until Taehyung starts shedding the calf material like snake skin while everyone else watches on completely horrified. Never did you once realise you could be so scarred by the ugly transformation of cargo pants into a pair of cargo shorts until this very moment. Yet, as always, Taehyung is set to defy the odds whilst simultaneously conjuring your every horrendous nightmare into an equally atrocious, waking reality.

“Twenty boba coupons, Taehyung,” you declare, shuddering as you watch the ends of his pants be flung over his shoulder as he wordlessly struts towards the lake. The material lands haphazardly on Jimin’s camper chair.

“And five each to compensate for the rest of us!” Jeongguk calls, shaking his head when Taehyung continues to ignore the both of you, other than giving a middle-finger salute.

Your best friend then kicks up a jog onto the jetty, gaining speed as he reaches the end. There, he leaps high into the air. The fuck you guys! is shouted loud and clear before he plummets through the lake’s surface. From their relaxed, sunbathing positions on the pontoon, Jimin and Hoseok laugh hysterically over the scene.

When you hear a metallic click, you flick your eyes away from Taehyung swimming towards the pair of boys to Yoongi. He now holds the two scraps of cargo at the end of some cooking tongs, staring levelly at yourself and Jeongguk.

“Once the fire is ablaze, we’re burning these.”

Not an ounce of disagreement is voiced by either of you, just firm nods of agreement before returning to constructing the tent.

You would think Jeongguk was a born camper by the speed at which he helps you set it up. He easily clips the poles to the nylon, raising the material into a mini dome of black and grey. This has you lamenting the position of it in the clearing all the more. Once the sun comes into contact with the dark, conductive fabric in the early hours of tomorrow, you and Taehyung will be steaming like lobsters crammed in a boiling hot pot.

Jeongguk sends you tiny, secret smiles all the while, humour colouring the corners of his mouth every time your eyes happen to make contact. It certainly leaves the devious little comment he had made before Yoongi’s outburst unforgotten. An abundance of questions gnaw at your thoughts with each recurrent flash of his teeth.

When you think about it, the compliment was stated like it was merely no more than a simple observation. It was made rather offhandedly, like it is a given, known fact that you are cute, and there is nothing more to it than that. But the simper that had curled his mouth in such a smug, knowing manner, paired with the composed raise of his brow, completely throws you off.

You spiral so deep into a tangent of borderline-prurient supposition that your shoulders jump when Jeongguk gingerly knocks his knuckles against the right as he walks past your crouching figure. Whether he notices it or not is indiscernible by the way that he continues to casually stride away. His broad, toned back faces you. The black material is deliciously stuck to the divot between his shoulder blades with perspiration, running your mouth dry.

“Sweatpants and exertion in the summertime are a bad match, I’m gonna get changed and then we’ll go for a swim, yeah?” he says, looking over his shoulder as he unzips his own tent to see you nod in agreement. He shoots you a final, dazzling smile before he crawls inside.

Stop overthinking, he’s just your friend, you mentally admonish, tucking the wet-weather shade and the last of the spare pegs back into the tent bag. You get to your feet, stretching your muscles until they are nice and taut before shaking them loose. It would be wholly welcome if your wandering thoughts could just as easily be dispelled.

If anything, enacting such motions makes you realise that Jeongguk was not wrong about the heat. Your flimsy dress sticks to your underarms and between your breasts; your bare thighs are slick and the skin rubs uncomfortably with your movements. You push your hair back from your face, quietly groaning with mild disgust at the salty dampness that clings to the strands.

Looking out to where the boys leap into the cool water from the pontoon, goosebumps raise along your arms at the sheer thought of slipping into the lake’s refreshing body. The heat would leech from your skin the deeper you swim, it always does. You thank your early-morning, barely awake self for having the sensibility to put your swimwear on underneath your dress, preventing you from having to climb into the box of heat behind you to get changed.

“___.”

The sound of Yoongi calling your name snags your attention immediately, and you draw your eyes from the sparkling surface to look at him. From underneath the kitchen shade, tongs and cargo strips out of sight, Yoongi stares firmly at you. Ever so slowly, he drags his gaze to your left, proceeding to intently look at what you realise to be Jeongguk’s tent—rustling from his movements within. Then, he gradually returning his eyes to you.

There is a pregnant pause, watching one another in silent, perplexed communication. The realisation of Yoongi’s intentions only hits once he gives you the most suggestive eyebrow waggle, which has your lips parting in a horrified gape. Heat sits high in your cheeks as you blink at him and try to find your voice, tongue suddenly feeling terribly numb.

“W-What the f–“ you begin to sputter, quickly cut off by Yoongi grinning widely like the damn Cheshire Cat—directed not at you, but over your right shoulder.

“Shower’s working?” he asks as Namjoon and Seokjin plod back into the camp, to which Seokjin smiles and nods. And god, for all the evocative gestures Yoongi was just making at you, the guy fucking melts at the sight of Seokjin. Taehyung was seriously not wrong in that department.

“In perfect condition, the filter is looking a little out of wear, but it should manage for the weekend,” Seokjin confirms, winking at Yoongi. You nearly giggle at the sight of Yoongi’s reaction: flushing a vibrant fuchsia from the collar of his shirt to the tips of his ears. Namjoon even has to call out his name twice to get the lovesick fool’s attention.

“Yoongi… Ay, Yoongi! Let’s go slice and dice a tree.”

“What– Dude, you really fucking brought it!” Yoongi’s momentary confusion shifts into sheer elation when his eyes land on Namjoon struggling to lug the chainsaw out of the Hilux’s tray.

He abandons his post in the makeshift kitchen and jogs over to Namjoon, helping him take it out. Making eye contact with Seokjin, you shake your head while he rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the shade.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he cautions, flipping open one of the coolers and rummaging through the ice until he pulls out an unopened bottle of lemonade. Namjoon shoots him a withering look.

“My IQ is 148. Stupidity is not possible, my good friend.”

“You once put a metal ice-cream scoop into a microwave to heat it up, so I rest my case. ___, do you want a lemon vodka?”

“Please,” you beam at Seokjin, only realising at the offer how parched you are.

Jeongguk shambles out of his tent at that moment. His dark fringe is plastered to his forehead. If your throat can run any drier, it certainly does at the sight of his tensed thighs and calves, stretching long and tan from his red board-shorts. You shamelessly stare at them as he emerges because damn, who wouldn’t.

“I’ll have one too, thanks,” Jeongguk requests, wiping a palm over his face and then back through his hair, wincing at the increased amount of moisture. With his fringe messily pushed back, you swear to god that not even Niagara Falls could satiate your thirst.

“You were in your tent for a while, Jeongguki,” Yoongi, noticing your brazen survey, hums aloud as he follows Namjoon towards the walking trail. His cunning eyes are settled on you when he saunters past; that same, suggestive smirk from before toying at his lips in a jeer. “I wonder what on earth you were doing in there to get you looking so hot and bothered.”

Jeongguk frowns, like the punchline flew right over his head. “Pumping up my mattress?”

“Oh,” is all Yoongi responds with, features moulding back into impassive.

You sneer at him with great pleasure, sticking your tongue out like a child. He mouths a fuck you before turning on his heel to tread after Namjoon into the forest, and you mentally flip him off. The sly little shit.

Jeongguk watches the pair venture off before sliding his eyes back to you, scowl still intact, thick eyebrows drawn to the centre. You swear that the deities above must be testing you. When you believe his sightliness has reached its peak, he goes ahead and frowns, surpasses the deities themselves, and breaks all known laws of attractiveness. Mother of god.

“Did I miss something?”

“Huh? O-Oh no, definitely not,” you wave your hands dismissively, scrambling for a vastly different topic to distract him with—and yes, to distract yourself from the raunchy visual Yoongi had just planted in your mind—before the poor guy catches on. “Hey, we’re going for a swim, right? Let’s do that.”

You probably nod with too much vigour, and that grin might be slightly maniacal. But Jeongguk shrugs in agreement and takes to removing his shirt.

Your concern of him believing you have quite possibly gone crazy within a span of ten minutes is completely wiped away when your fingers reach for the hem of your dress, beginning to tug upward. For the other boys, they have become used to seeing your body practically bare of a scrap of clothing throughout salt and sand summers while you all grew up. So it is plenty natural that neither Seokjin, nor the three other friends who are now floating closer to the shore, hardly cast your figure a second glance when you shuck off your thin dress.

This may possibly be why you are completely startled when you catch sight of Jeongguk, mid-peeling off his shirt, to see that the firm edge of his stare is solidly trained on your exposed body. Well, save for a mustard two-piece swimsuit that hugs snugly to your hips and breasts; the smooth skin there sparkling with dewy sweat.

Although the sunlight is filtered through the foliage of the surrounding trees, you feel thrice as scorching than you did with the dress on. As if you have stepped directly into an exposed patch of the golden beams, and there is not a single barrier beyond the ozone layer to quell the intensity of the ultraviolet radiation.

Rather than the sun being its genesis, the warmth that licks like flame across your skin arises from the heated way in which Jeongguk takes you in. He drags his eyes from your toes to your knees; passes over the build of your thighs; carefully assimilates the yellow material that is fitted to your hips. Continuing upward, his gaze slides up the slope of your waist and stomach; lingers a moment too long on your chest that is bunched in the suddenly suffocating bikini top. Then, at long and agonising last, he settles on your face: bottom lip taut between your teeth, eyes wide and honest.

You swear that if you were to lick the tip of your finger and press it to any expanse of your skin, the flesh would hiss and sizzle. Jeongguk has kindled a fire within you that steadily grows with the hunger that darkens his eyes, fuelling one another into ardency; reducing the rest of the world into a slate of nothingness. It is then that you begin to feel startlingly aware of how intimate this open ogling is—being greedily taken in by Jeongguk, bit by bit, through the diligent manner in which he drinks up your figure like you are fine delicacy served on the platter of a starving beast.

Slowly, purposefully, Jeongguk proceeds to remove his shirt. His eyes remain on you the entire time, smugly gauging your reaction as you watch the toned stretch of his tan torso come into view. The extensive time that he spends at the gym throughout each week has most definitely paid off, if the chiselled plains of his pecks and abdominals are anything to go by. You always knew he had the body of a Calvin Klein model; blatantly perceivable whenever he would wear muscle tees that reveal his carved biceps and veiny forearms, or tight-fitted long-sleeves that shape to the outline of his burly figure. But none of the above could have possibly prepared you for the sight of him on complete, unadulterated display. Not even Photoshop could get a guy looking this good.

A throat is forcefully cleared, loud and conspicuous, making you wonder just how long the two of you have been eating one another up like nobody’s damn business.

“Here,” Seokjin, throat-clearer, says tersely. He peremptorily holds two red cups, expression twisted into one of censure at the blatant eye-fucking occurring right before his own eyes.

You are the first to break contact, turning on your heel to approach Seokjin and quench your Sahara desert thirst. You swear you hear the softest groan made by Jeongguk when you do so. Around the burning that creeps up your throat, you cannot deny the triumph that shoots through your veins in adrenaline at the possibility that yes, Jeongguk just groaned at the sight of your ass. Holy shit.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you take one of the cups from Seokjin, immediately bringing the rim to your lips and taking a hefty gulp. Bitter lemon and the harsher note of vodka tastes like sweet relief as the mouthful washes over your tongue.

When the smell of soil and sweat tinges your senses, you stiffen slightly. As Jeongguk takes the other cup, he grins as though Seokjin had not just bared witness to such an amorous interaction in broad daylight.

“Swim?” Jeongguk proposes, lips still curved in a beautiful half moon. When you wordlessly nod, he turns to face Seokjin, who is still appearing vaguely traumatised. “Wanna come?”

“N-No, I’m fine right here! There are still things to be unpacked! You kids go ahead!” Seokjin immediately maunders, sculling back a good quarter of his lemon vodka before beginning to purposelessly fiddle around with the utensils on the table, making himself seem occupied.

Jeongguk shrugs and looks down at you, tilting his head in the direction of the lake.

“Let’s go then,” he says, lips tilting higher, and you hardly have the chance to utter sure when Jeongguk briefly, tenderly, presses the pads of his fingertips to the small of your back.

A thrilling zap is sent up your spine as he ushers you towards the pier. Distantly, you wonder if the fleeting touch has allowed him to feel the boiling heat of your bare skin; the unmitigated affect that he has on you. But just as soon as the contact is made, it is retreating from your body, and the pair of you are leisurely walking towards the lake.

You take a sip of your drink, hoping that the liquid confidence will kick in without too much delay and slacken the stiffness of your tongue. Though before you can conjure a sensical sentence to try and verbalise, Jeongguk is wedging the hand that had touched you into his pocket, leaning closer so you can catch his words.

“Thanks, by the way,” he says softly, and you raise your eyebrows at him while he continues to stare ahead. Fascinated, you watch his jaw work as he takes a mouthful from his cup. The bone is sharp enough to slice a damn cake.

You nearly forget to respond amidst your ridiculous gawking. “Huh? For what?”

“Redirecting the conversation in the car about me having ‘side hoes’ into conspiracy theories.” Jeongguk’s smile is small and tentative. He rubs a palm against the nape of his neck, glancing down at you before his eyes return to the glittering lake. Admittedly, you have to commend his efforts to not lech over the fantastic cleavage that your swimsuit top provides. “I don’t want you– I don’t want anyone to think that’s true. That I message those people back, or even give my number out to them in the first place.”

An ease settles on your tense shoulders. The both of you relax into conversation like neither of you are nowhere close to almost naked, nor that you had so openly leered at one another no more than two minutes ago. “It’s fine. I don’t want you to think that we think it’s true, either. The boys just like to tease; you should know that by now.”

“Yeah, but these days, it feels like their teasing is always falling on me,” he sighs, and you nudge him with your elbow. A dusting of pink blooms on the peaks of his cheeks, which he tries to conceal by having another sip of his drink.

“Ah, it’s because you turned into a muscle bunny, Jeonggukie. They’re jealous.” You say lightheartedly, swilling the liquid in your cup. “But I never realised you were Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson’s distant cousin underneath all that. You look like you could take on The Hulk and have a fair shot at winning.”

Jeongguk burns brighter at the fact that you even noticed—though he would later swear that the rubescent glow is due to Seokjin mixing too much alcohol into his drink.

Nonetheless, Jeongguk laughs and raises an eyebrow. Trying to not make it obvious how the compliment has ignited a warmth in his chest as the pair of you reach the rocks that slope down into the water. “I’m sure The Hulk would have me flat on my ass within zero-point-five seconds. Besides, I forgot this is our first summer together. You didn’t get to witness me shirtless when I was scrawny from living on packet ramen during my first year.”

Together, he fucking says. Your heart near slams right through your chest, and you start to carefully tread down the rocks, both arms held out to maintain your balance. “Ha, you’re right. You were introduced to us, when, the middle of last summer?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk confirms, heedful of your movements down the slimy rocks, on alert to reach out and catch you upon the chance of any slip or fall that you may make. “That was more when I was hanging out with Jimin. It wasn’t until the semester commenced again at the start of Autumn that I began spending more time with you guys. I don’t think I’ve even been to the beach with all of you yet.”

“In that case, it looks like we’ve got a long bucket list to go through this summer,” you smile, feet coming into contact with the squishy bedding of the lake. You wrinkle your nose as the wet soil makes its way between your toes. “There’s a specific beach we go to that’s east of the hill. A secret spot, just like this place. Taehyung’s parents and mine have been friends since their college years, and I swear to god, they’ve sought out every hidden place in this state. They can’t stand tourists.”

“Seems like it.” Jeongguk smiles in return. He begins to manoeuvre down the slope with ease now that you are safely in the water. Well, until he continues to say, “By the way, your swimsuit is pretty. That colour really suits you,” because then you are whirling on your heel in a fluster to face him at too high a velocity.

Your feet slip out from underneath you. As you fall backward, Jeongguk’s smile drops to an expression of panic and he reaches out to latch his fingers around your wrist.

Thus, not only do you collapse into the lake, but you haul him in along with you.

Luckily, where you stand is hardly knee-high. So despite the fall on your ass hurts like an absolute bitch, your hair remains mostly dry outside of the splash, and you miraculously manage to keep your cup of goods high out of the water. Really, the main issue of the whole fiasco is that you pulled Jeongguk right on top of yourself, so now he is caged around you, arms bracketing your frame, a thigh wedged between your own and his face too temptingly close.

An expression of surprise is plastered to his features while he recovers from the fall, which only becomes all the more adorably shocked when he realises that you are mere inches away from one another.

“Hi,” you hesitantly simper, and Jeongguk stares at your mouth. So painstakingly obvious in his ways that your heart no longer thuds from the adrenaline of the fall, but the propinquity of his damp, rosy lips.

His voice is low, a rumble in his chest. Mimicking your desultory smirk, his dark eyes sparkle like obsidian jewels. “Hey there.”

“I didn’t realise you liked the swimsuit this much,” you giggle, coming out a little shaky with the onslaught of nervousness; at the thought that you could lean forward two inches and his mouth would be slanted against your own.

Jeongguk cutely scrunches up his nose, and lifts a hand from the sludgy bed of the lake to playfully spatter water onto your face. You whine in complaint while he laughs.

“Oh my god, are you guys okay?!” you can hear Jimin screeching from the other side of the pier, followed by a series of splashes and then a much louder, “Taehyung, let go of my ass, for fuck’s sake!”

Completely ignoring the concerned calls, Jeongguk grabs his empty cup as it floats past—an unfortunate victim to the collapse—and fills it with speckled lake water before raising it towards you. The corners of his mouth lift all the higher as he says, “To swimsuits so pretty they nearly make you drown.”

In the not so far away distance, you can hear a chainsaw revving to life, followed by a stream of maniacal laughter. You lift your red cup up to tap the rim to Jeongguk’s with a grin, wondering what on earth the rest of this day has in store, and whether the soft twinkle of his eyes means something more than innocent friendship.

“Cheers!”

The heat that had plagued the afternoon eventually simmered down to a comfortable warmth. The kind that does not arise sweat from pores, and allows freedom in the area of wearing thin shirts and denim shorts without the concern of an unwelcome, chilly breeze. With the dwindle of the scorching temperature, the daylight had gradually smudged into an inky purple evening until the clear navy—speckled by silver starlight—was all the sky knew.

But the eight minds that dwelled beneath it? Not so much. A few rounds of beer pong that mostly replaced the beer with straight vodka and gin could do that to even the strongest of drinkers.

So, with livers processing excessive volumes of alcohol, and eyes glazed by a drunken shine, the lot of you had swam, made banter, and played old camping games that traversed deep into the night. Yoongi and Namjoon had literally laid to rest an entire tree, and ended up hauling at least a month’s worth of firewood into the camp. Yoongi had also managed to hide the strips of cargo pants underneath the logs in the fire pit; unbeknownst to Taehyung, who was miserably losing a game of beer pong to Jeongguk at the time. Hoseok, Jimin and yourself had managed to play four mean games of Presidents and Assholes; a means of waiting for the dismal match between Jeongguk and Taehyung to come to its ceasefire so the three of you could finally have a turn on the table.

At dinnertime, Seokjin, in a pink apron to match his hideous pink crocs, had called out from his position at the portable stove while clicking a pair of tongs like a one-armed crab. “Who wants a sausage in a bun?”

“Yoongi will have your sausage between his buns,” Taehyung had proceeded with an evil grin, which was quite literally slapped off his face by the flat of Yoongi’s palm the second the words were out. An unceremonious wrestling match was then fomented in the soil. Neither of them won; they were too drunk to land any proper hits.

Truly, the night had proceeded like any of the other camping adventures. Well, beyond the fact that frequenting frat parties had strengthened you all to consume more booze than last time, which had consisted of two six-packs of beer shared amongst the group. And you had still managed to throw up the next morning.

The only notable difference was Jeongguk’s presence.

Since the moment you had unintentionally dragged him into the lake, you had been catching him staring whenever your eyes dared to drift in his general direction. Every time, a rush of heat would join the moderate warmth that had already settled in your bloodstream; a concomitant of each sip that you would take from your drink. Whether you were helping Seokjin dole out food to the rest of the tipsy campers, or if you were being dragged into the water for another swim by Taehyung, Jeongguk was always close by with his softened eyes resting upon you.

They would innocently flick away once you would notice. But not without sending you a gentle smile, first.

Stop, you had told yourself when Jeongguk had lifted you up in drunken celebration, hooting at the top of his lungs after you had won a round of beer pong against Seokjin and Namjoon. Don’t overthink it. You’re just friends.

And although the hot afternoon had calmed considerably, it must have remained stored within the tent that you now share with Taehyung.

Midnight has passed, and everyone has retreated to their own sleeping quarters. Within your own oven-like abode, you are sprawled atop the lumpy mattress, the blanket kicked off, sweating like nobody’s business. It is the kind of gruesome slickness that feels like a film of slime coats every available surface of your body, creating a disgustingly greasy effect with each slight movement that you make. As if your joints are over-oiled hinges and butter has been smeared across your skin.

You lay there in drunken deliberation, deciding whether you have the energy to crawl out of the tent and slip into the cool waters of the lake. But your decision is unequivocally made when Taehyung—snoring like an engine—rolls onto his stomach and effectively spreads his limbs like a starfish, leaving you to bunch up against the other side of the mattress with a resonating groan.

Screw it, you think, tying up your sticky hair into a bun and peeling off your ratty pyjama shirt, soaked with perspiration. You replace your panties with your dried bathers before unzipping the tent door and climbing out. Drowning in the lake sounds nicer than drowning in my own sweat.

The fire still burns at the centre of the camp and you cringe away from its emanating heat, heading straight for the pier. Even though the full moon sheds enough silver light for you to see almost as clear as day, you opt for the ladder on the side of the jetty, rather than the rocks. You are not particularly wishing to slip on them or the soggy bedding—again—in your significantly worse level of sobriety. Cracking your head while nobody is around to stop you from bleeding out—or to drag your knocked unconscious self out of the water—is a highly unappealing thought.

The rotting planks of the pier creak and sigh beneath your weight. You cannot help the relieved exhalation that escapes your lungs once you make your way down the ladder and come into contact with the cold, silvery surface of the lake; the water acting as a soothing balm that slips over your figure. You continue to descend until you are releasing the metal bars and pushing back. The water rushes over your shoulders in refreshing bliss, and you can practically feel the oily sweat be washed from your skin. You kick your legs to keep afloat and gather a handful of water to splash over your face, moaning once more at the glorious exhilaration of ridding the viscid perspiration.

On a split decision—knowing that you will not be departing the lake anytime soon—you leisurely breaststroke towards the pontoon, keeping your head above the water so that your hair does not get wet. Maybe it is because you are still experiencing the effects of the vodka churning through your system, but you reach the buoyant platform much quicker than usual. Skirting around the edge, you reach for the rusty rungs. They leave a bronze grime on your palms as you climb, and the cool water cascades from your figure as you emerge from the lake.

Before you can even rest your knee atop the pontoon, your heart is dropping to the pit of your stomach. Because right there, reclined on the platform, is none other than Jeongguk, propped up on his elbows and gaping at you.

“H-Hey,” he says, surprise colouring his tone. You try to not slip your eyes down his bare torso where droplets of water still cling, glittering against his muscles in the starlight like tiny diamonds.

“Jesus, you nearly scared the life out of me!” you laugh. With a huff, you pull yourself up onto the pontoon and—in a small stretch of confidence that you swear is fuelled by the alcohol—crawl until you are much closer than the large space requires. You flip onto your back beside Jeongguk, to which he looks down at you with slightly wider eyes. You smile up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs, staring at you a moment longer before letting his elbows give out so that he can lay flat against the plastic surface. Perhaps, it is the balmy atmosphere. But you are certain that the increased temperature on the left side of your body is due to the proximity of his body heat, which has you biting softly onto your lower lip to hide your smile. “What about you?”

“Same. The tent has turned into the equivalent of the sun’s surface, so I decided to take a dip to cool off,” you cringe, recalling the stickiness that you were enduring only a handful of minutes earlier. “Taehyung snoring like an ogre was the cherry on top of that cake.”

Jeongguk laughs, lightly rocking the pontoon. You bask in how sweet it sounds; treacle that slowly drips over your heart, coating it in sugary enchantment. His finger pokes into your side as he calms, twisting it in a screwing motion as he grins and teases with, “All gross and sweaty, were you? Are you a sweat-head, ___?”

“Ugh, rude ass.” You groan in embarrassment, knowing that he is most likely visualising you all disgustingly sweaty. You smack his hand away, and his laughter starts back up again; much louder. The sound carries across the open, empty lake and travels through the surrounding trees. Caving in with a small grin, you shove at his shoulders. “Shut up, you’re going to wake the entire forest!”

“Make me,” Jeongguk sneers, rolling onto his side and pushing himself up so that he can see your expression. His eyes twinkle darkly as they observe you, and the tilt of your lips fades into something more serious; demure at the blatant suggestion behind his words.

“Don’t tempt me,” you quietly taunt back, and Jeongguk smirks at the reciprocated intention.

“What would you do?”

For a moment, you simply watch him, drinking in his facial features that are situated so unbearably close. He is genuinely handsome; the kind of guy that fits the aesthetic of somebody your parents would welcome into the family with open arms. Yet he attains that alluring, almost amorphous sexiness like a mask he slips on whenever he so desires—at the times he deems it most required.

When you are so near, you can make out the light blemishes from his teenage acne, the scar that cuts minimally across his cheekbone, and it makes you realise how young he still is. Jeongguk may have endured classic college puberty, but he remains to be the same boy that you first met when you were too drunk to completely remember the encounter. Withal, he has that same, pure heart that pumps liquid gold through his veins and arteries.

Bringing to life a boy that you, admittedly, might be falling for.

You sniff. Parting your lips, you say, “I’d drown your sorry ass.”

The disappointment that darts across Jeongguk’s expression is fleeting, though you effortlessly catch onto it, grinning innocently up at him. He coughs, looks off into the distance and then back down at you, muttering, “Who’s the rude ass now, huh?”

“You, it’ll always be you,” you jokingly deride, and Jeongguk rolls his eyes, a man defeated.

He remains to stay propped up beside you. His gaze skims over your features in silent contemplation, calculation, and he rubs his lips together as though a question is hiding on his tongue that he does not have the gall to voice. A few seconds pass with you feeling the warmth creep higher in your cheeks, and Jeongguk exhales deeply through his nose.

“Can I ask you something?” he virtually whispers, the words coming out tender and unsure. The corners of your mouth lift upwards as a means of comfort and encouragement.

“Sure, go ahead.”

If it is even possible, his tone slips into something softer, obsidian eyes melting as he murmurs, “What do you think of me?”

“In what way?” you solicit, biding time to mull over your response. The steady thump of your heart slowly begins to kick up.

“Like, I don’t know how to say it,” Jeongguk runs a hand through his hair, and your eyes trail along the bicep that flexes with the action. Something hot and heavy lays upon your abdomen before you drag your gaze back to his complexed expression. “Do– Do you, perhaps, look at me in a different way than you do with the, uh, other guys? Do you think I’m a decent human being? Fuck, I don’t know, that was a stupid question to ask–”

Resting your palm atop his own, planted flat between you to keep him supported, reduces him to silence. Jeongguk’s now wide stare drags from your face to your fingers that squeeze gingerly, placatingly, over his knuckles before returning to your eyes. The way that he looks right now, so innocent and confused, has your heart absolutely swelling in your chest.

“Jeongguk,” you start, drumming your fingertips against the back of his hand. “I think you’re wonderful, honest, and kind. I don’t mean to stereotype, but the guys that go through the changes that you did–” You sweep your gaze up and down his toned torso, and the left side of his mouth slightly quirks– “They usually don’t come out with the same mentality as they had before. Their personalities change completely with this newfound overindulgence on confidence that they attain with their suddenly spectacular physique. I mean, you’ve always been a cocky little shit, that’s for sure. But you’ve never let that control who you are at heart. You haven’t abandoned us now that you have every girl on campus trying to get into your pants, and now that the guys from the football team are imploring you to join their frat. It shows us– Me, that you’re genuine, and that you’re still that same sweet guy. You’ve just packed some muscle over the top of it.”

Slowly, Jeongguk nods, taking in all that you have said with a small, pleased smile playing on his lips. Then, he is jestingly narrowing his eyes at you, firmly stating, “You know I meant it before when I said I don’t care about those girls, right?”

“Yes, since you keep drilling it into my head,” you roll your eyes. Though before you can properly retort, Jeongguk is adjusting his position until his body is pressed to your side. His face hovers closely above your own—near enough for you to feel his warm breath fanning against your skin. Your heart gives a single, solid thump against your glass ribcage; daring to break through.

“That’s…” Jeongguk murmurs, his eyes languidly studying your features, zeroing in on your tongue as it darts nervously between your dry lips. “… Because I don’t want you to believe I think of anyone else.”

Then, Jeongguk starts to lean in, glacial in his progression though oh-so determined. And despite the opportunity you have desperately been yearning for has suddenly become imminently tangible, you cannot help yourself when your hands plant firmly against Jeongguk’s chest, roughly shoving him back.

You catch the faintest glimpse of betrayal on his features before he topples off the pontoon and crashes into the water with a yelp.

When he arises from the lake with a dramatic, floundering gasp, you are bent over yourself on the buoyant plastic, slapping a hand against the platform while using your other palm to smother your hysterical howls of laughter. At the sight, Jeongguk’s expression becomes as stony as marble, glaring at you.

“That was mean,” he punctuates the last word with a point of his finger. You only just manage to tame the fit of cachinnation to a modest stream of giggles as he slowly slinks underneath the water’s surface. When he arises once more, it is several feet away from the pontoon, heading towards the shore with the back of his head facing you.

“Aw, you’re such a baby,” you huff, sliding off the side of the pontoon and into the lake that is now marginally cooler than when you had first entered. It licks a chill against your jawline as you keep your head above the water. Ahead, Jeongguk makes no effort to turn around and face you, already striding through waist-high water to the rocks.

You earnestly do try your best to swim forward. Though after a day of such an early awakening, followed by intense physical exertion, your limbs quickly begin to feel the exhaustion like lead, keeping you bobbing in place a few metres in front of the pontoon. Giving it another go, you manage a single stroke of your arms and a weak kick of your legs, which barely pushes your body forward another foot. Only then do you let yourself crack as you swallow the small growth of fear; how the water is beginning to feel like quicksand, dragging you down.

“Ah, Jeongguk, c’mere and let me hold onto your shoulders,” you call out, feebly treading water with your tired arms. “Please, my muscles are locking up and I’m gonna drown!”

The water is at Jeongguk’s knees when he turns around. His figure is backlit by the campfire, and you can practically feel the muted anger at your treachery leeching from his skin and surging through the water to encapsulate you.

“Well, well, who’s the baby now?” he smirks ruthlessly, but he is already moving forward through the water. “Maybe I should just let you go.”

You sputter, watching him swim closer. “In that case, have fun explaining my dead body to Taehyung tomorrow.”

“I will. Nice knowing you.”

“Jeongguk!”

“I’m kidding, stop being such a wuss,” Jeongguk grins, gliding effortlessly towards you with the moonlight glimmering on his wet skin like smears of starlight. You cannot help but jolt when you feel his fingertips graze at your waist beneath the surface. “I can even stand here. Look. Put your damn feet down.”

Instead of obliging him, you go for what he surely considers a much more preferable option. You slide your hands up to rest on his shoulders while you wrap your legs around his hips, catching him by surprise. Silently, Jeongguk stares at you, as if waiting for your next move. You distantly wonder whether he can hear the erratic pounding of your pulse when his large hands deliberately slip down your waist. His palms ever so lightly curve over your ass before settling on the undersides of your thighs, drawing you close enough to feel his breath on your flesh again.

“Jeon Jeongguk, you’re my hero,” you quietly tease, sliding your palms further up to lay carefully against his throat. Your thumbs brush the damp skin there. Jeongguk trembles.

Despite this show of vulnerability, he smirks. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth before releasing it to quip with, “Ha, and does this hero get a reward from his princess?”

“Depends if he’s nice enough,” you murmur. When his nose brushes against your own, fingers squeezing gingerly at your bare thighs, you are certain Jeongguk feels the shiver that rushes beneath your skin.

“He can be.” The soft whisper is warm and enticing as the words are exhaled onto your lips.

It is all the reassurance that you need to close the distance.

A sensation akin to fireworks lights up in your chest. It colours your insides in a vibrant spectrum and wakes your nerves in fizzling, vivid sparks. Jeongguk’s hot, pliant mouth is overwhelming as it melds to your own, like the anticipation of finally kissing him has reached its boiling point, bubbling up inside of you and spilling over the edges in total euphoria.

The feeling is so stimulating that you whine quietly into the kiss. This is met by a tiny moan that hums from the back of his throat, and is immediately followed by the tip of his tongue prodding at the seam of your lips; carefully pushing through the tender flesh to test the waters. He tastes like beer and lemonade and the tacky sweetness of the marshmallows that were roasted after dinner, swiping against your tongue and your lower lip. You lock your fingers at the nape of his neck to deepen the movements, subtly bringing about a titillating edge that is all the more heightened when his fingers clutch tighter at your thighs, slipping higher to clutch just underneath your ass.

It truly is nothing but innocent until Jeongguk shifts his thigh between your own, enabling you to perch upon it within the water. And with the slightest, accidental nudge of your knee as you wriggle closer to him—his mouth—you feel the semi-hard bulge through the thin fabric of his board shorts.

At that, Jeongguk breaks away from your lips. His own are parted and glisten with a delicious, rosy swell to them that has your heart racing. His brow pinches into a small, unsure frown, as if he does not know what to say, nor knows if you noticed what your bare skin had just touched. But god, you cannot help but admire how incredible he looks after kissing you. How something this harmless can stir him into such a mess; can cause tendrils of lust to swim in the dark pools of his eyes.

So, to properly convey your interest, you stare directly at Jeongguk as you slowly roll your clothed centre over the firm muscle of his tensed thigh. You softly gasp at the way his taut skin rubs perfectly against your folds, your toes curling with pleasure.

Before you can even think about doing anything else, Jeongguk is lunging back in for your mouth like a jaguar on its prey.

Now, he kisses with ferocious ardency. His hands abandon their positions on your thighs to fit over your hips, coaxing you into continuing your lascivious ministrations. A whimper lodges itself in your throat, bubbling against Jeongguk’s tongue as he groans and drags your sensitive cunt back and forth on his thigh with the determination to satisfy you. Your nails dig into the skin of his neck as you feel the coil of desire begin to tighten with every stroke.

How he even manages to do so, your mind is too delirious to deliberate. But Jeongguk somehow flexes his thigh all the tauter, and it forms a prominent ridge in the thew. A moan tears from your lungs at the way the hard angle grinds deeper between your clothed folds, rubbing roughly against your clit and sending you bloody mad.

“We’re–” You try to speak when Jeongguk pulls away for barely a moment before he dives back in, licking his tongue against your own and drawing a soft whimper from the back of your throat. You break away from the warmth of his mouth to continue, and Jeongguk decides to travel his lips further south, pressing and nipping against every expanse of jawline and throat made available to him above the water’s surface. “J-Jeongguk. I’m not having sex with you in this grimy lake, I swear to god–”

His mouth reaches your own again, silencing whatever words remained on the tip of your trembling tongue and kissing you hard through a grin. Despite the situation, the thought this sneaky little shit manages to surface in your mind.

When Jeongguk finally speaks, his voice has become raspy and thick. The sheer depth of it almost has you pushing aside your concerns about hygiene and disease to let him have you right there. “Still gonna let me fuck you though, right?”

“That’s the general plan, yes,” you breathe with an encouraging roll of your hips, air hitching in your lungs over the thrilling sensation.

Jeongguk rolls his head back with a groan. He digs his fingers tighter into your hipbones before his expression lolls back into view—dark and urgent with the right corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk that has you shivering. He pulls you so close that your torsos are pressed completely together. His hand leaves your hip to reach for your own balanced upon his shoulder, taking it underneath the water.

Jeongguk presses your palm against the prominent girth of his cock, which floats against his shorts and arches impressively long, effectively leaving you salivating.

“L-Let’s get out,” you insist, giving it a delicate squeeze that has Jeongguk’s jaw tensing. He looks so utterly desirable that you cannot help but lean forward and skim your lips along the sharp angle.

Once you reach soft the nook under his ear and suck at the skin, Jeongguk exhales in a rush. He curls his fingers into your hips with a shudder as you lave your tongue over the bite in time with you pulling a languid, yet tight stroke up his length.

“___, aren’t we getting out?” he breathes through a chuckle. You teasingly nip at the lobe of his ear. This earns you a pinch on your ass, which has you jolting closer to him and away from his hand with a protesting yelp.

Jeongguk snakes the same hand up to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lightly pushing you back until your face is before his own. And boy, does the sight of his eyes—pitch black and hooded with carnal lust—make the coil in your core winch all the tighter.

Glancing between your own, he grins. The pearly white canines appear like predatory fangs in the pale moonlight. “Out.”

“Fine,” you cave, pressing a final peck to his plush lips before you skirt around him, moulding your chest to his solid back and sliding your arms over his shoulders. Jeongguk, with a disbelieving huff of laughter, swims with you clutching to his torso like a koala until the shore grows too shallow to do so.

Unlatching, you allow Jeongguk to help you stand up on the mushy bedding by the offer of his hand. The pair of you trudge through the waist-high water to the ladder, with you climbing up the rungs first. You squeak when your rear is greeted by a light smack the moment it emerges from the lake, and you immediately stop in your tracks to accusingly look over your shoulder at Jeongguk.

A devilish smirk curls at his mouth. The culprit does not even giving two shits about the fact that he has been caught red-handed.

“Can’t help myself when it’s such a great ass,” Jeongguk shrugs in explanation. You roll your eyes and twist back to continue making your way onto the pier. The lingering sting admittedly has you hoping he will do it again sometime.

Hauling yourself onto the wooden planks, you begin to defiantly stride towards the campsite, leaving Jeongguk to tag along behind. You hear the water cascade from his body as he pulls himself out; the metal rungs creak underneath his weight. Then, there is the increased pace of his footsteps, steadily approaching you in a jog just as you step off the jetty.

Before you can even comprehend it, Jeongguk is swinging you up into his arms bridal-style. He smothers your shriek of surprise with his mouth in a bout unexpected accuracy, his smiling lips landing directly upon your own. Even after he pulls away so he can navigate, he does not put you down, and rather curls you close into his spectacular chest. You try your absolute best to not salivate at how insufferably hot the situation is—the way that he carries you with ease as if you are weightless; tensed and bunched around you in a tantalising combination of golden skin stretched over magnificent thews.

Entering the site, Jeongguk places you back on your own two feet, albeit they are slightly unsteadier than before he had picked you up. When you first slunk out of your tent in your slick and sweaty state, you had avoided the heat of the fire as if it had teeth. But now you stand as close to the edge of the pit as you can bear, facing the flames with your eyes closed and impatiently wishing that the warmth would dry your skin and bathers in an instant.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, has more straightforward thinking. He grabs a towel from where they all hang on a low branch behind the makeshift kitchen, and then walks back to you and guides you a few steps away from the fire. He drapes the coarse material on your shoulders and begins to vigorously rub you up and down with avid determination, soaking up as many of the droplets as he possibly can. Then, he moves on to his own body, sparing you a gorgeous smile in the process that you reciprocate.

“You can wait in the tent, if you like,” he says quietly as he ruffles the towel against his damp hair.

You nod in agreement and start towards where it is pitched, though not without sliding your eyes down his chest to his soaked board shorts. You bite your lip at the sight of his cock straining against the red material, looking much larger than it had felt in your hand.

Jeongguk must notice, for in the middle of drying himself, he reaches down and grasps a large palm around his crotch. He jostles his dick with a lewd smirk that has your skin tingling with desire. “Like what you see, huh?”

At a lack of response due to the sheer stupefaction the action has forced upon you, you childishly poke out your tongue before turning on your heel and dashing towards his tent. Even in your flustered haste, you do not miss the way he softly chuckles and mutters cute.

It is not until you are unzipping the entrance that you realise your hands are shaking. A mixture of nerves and excitement travel all the way down to your toes, and your heart practically vibrates in your chest as you climb inside. You admire Jeongguk’s cosy space of a blow-up double-mattress with striped navy-and-white sheets; his sports bag full of clothes and hygiene commodities is shoved into the leftmost corner by the door. Unleashing your hair from its tie, you let it descend onto your shoulders before reclining on the mattress, head resting against the sole, downy pillow.

You wring your fingers together as you stare up at the green, nylon ceiling and wait. Anticipate.

Should I take my bikini off? you wonder, brow pinching, wiggling your toes about to ease the edge off your heightened nerves. Or would that be too abrupt for him to see the moment he comes inside? Maybe he’s into stripping his partner–

Amidst your internal contemplation, you do not hear the dull thumps of Jeongguk’s approach until the hanging tent material that comprises the entrance is pushed aside. His gaze hardens as he enters, and it sweeps over your stretched out figure before he turns to zip the door closed. Afterwards, the silence is almost numbing. It prickles your skin into tiny goosebumps, raising the hairs along your arms and the nape of your neck. All the while, Jeongguk kneels at the end of the mattress and surveys you with a lecherous glint to his eyes, drumming his fingers against his thick thighs.

“Take your bikini off,” he finally murmurs in a tone lower than you have ever known it; commanding in such a way that you have to restrain yourself from literally scrambling to abide to his order.

At a commendable pace, you lift your torso high enough so that your hands can unclasp your top. You make a show of slipping the straps down your arms before you smooth your palms down your waist. Hooking your thumbs beneath the mustard material hugging at your hips, you lift your legs perpendicular to glide the bottoms over your thighs, knees and ankles. A rush of adrenaline shoots through your veins at the muffled grunt Jeongguk makes at the sight that your purposeful position allows: your pussy peeking out from between your thighs; wet and waiting to be worshipped by him.

Once you are completely bare and you have lowered your legs to lay flat against the bed, Jeongguk sedately climbs on top of you. He appears like a dark and hulking shadow with teeth, and the view is so primal that you whimper with a surge of need. Completely trapped in by his arms, all you can do is expectantly stare up at him and demurely blink while he takes a moment to drink you in.

He outlines your features with hooded eyes before he leans down and kisses you, surprisingly tamer than the last. Jeongguk’s tongue moves in languid motions against your own, his mouth hot and sensual as it slants in perfect precision with your lips that part so willingly underneath his control. He relieves the support of his weight from one of his hands to snake it around the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss an inch further. It only serves to send your ardency into hyperdrive, and you increasingly notice how the sensitivity of your skin heightens with his minimal touching. You feel like the torn end of a live wire; sparking and fizzling at any given moment that the damp fabric of his shorts brushes against the inner of your thigh, or his toned chest grazes gingerly against your perked nipples.

Jeongguk draws away from your swollen lips—a thin string of saliva connecting you. Then, he plants another quick kiss to the ruined flesh before his mouth trails messily down your jaw, sucking and nipping along the way and eliciting quiet moans from your lungs. His breath is warm when it reaches your ear, tongue flicking out to snare the lobe and drawing it between his teeth. The hand that had slipped behind your neck slowly retreats, slipping around to settle levelly against your chest.

“Your tits are lovely,” Jeongguk murmurs against your ear. He leans back as you make a small whimper of desire so you can see his wicked smile.

Jeongguk shifts down to finally provide you with some relief. Dragging his tongue over your left nipple, he kneads the right with his large palm and tweaks the bud between his knuckles, and you pleasantly sigh. But what really sets you on edge is when Jeongguk begins to faintly grind the solid girth of his clothed cock over your glistening centre. His tongue simultaneously circles around your areola and you, knotting your fingers through the dark tufts of his hair, swear you can taste the stars.

But you want more. You need so much more than this.

The carnality that has been coiling tight within your core is set aflame, crackling into a wildfire that licks and scorches along your bones, lighting up your body with ferocious desire. Jeongguk switches sides, fixating his mouth to the underside of your right breast. He bites down on the soft flesh and rocks his dick with growing arduousness. The seam of his board shorts drags roughly against your clit and you suddenly cannot stand it, this meagre contact, this barrier of microfibre that collects your accumulating arousal when it could be his dick dragging hotly through the mess. It could be perspiring skin-on-skin sliding against one another. It could be all seven inches of him buried tight inside of you. It could be him filling you with his pearly cum and not letting that stop him, continuing to snap his hips against your own, his seed spilling out of your entrance until you are reaching your peak and releasing all over his cock–

“A-Ah, take your shorts off,” you breathlessly whine, grabbing at the sides of Jeongguk’s face to lift him from your chest. Your nipples are now shining spectacularly.

He dumbly stares at you with his lips parted, swollen and slick with his own saliva. It almost appears too adorable in the heated moment; juxtaposing the way he had so assertively told you to strip, as though he has become too caught up in his ministrations. But Jeongguk is just as quick to catch onto his slip-up. He runs the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip and then ruminatively pokes it into the side of his cheek. The sight is so inviting that you quite literally feel yourself become wetter.

It is only in the static silence that you come to realise you are panting, chest heaving in short, desperate exhalations. Maybe that is why Jeongguk takes a small piece of pity on you. He sits back on his haunches and takes his time to marvel at your spread thighs and the prize at the centre, tracing its pretty, wet curves with his eyes alone. Then, he is dipping his fore and middle fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before gingerly bringing them to your pussy, drawing a featherlight line up your slit with the pad of his finger.

Your toes curl, fingers grasping at the sheets as a stuttering gasp tumbles from your lips. It is a sign that Jeongguk takes as the go-ahead to crawl up beside you. He grabs at your hips to roughly flip you onto your side and then cuddles up behind you, curling his bicep for you to rest your head upon. His nose traces at the curve of your neck while he smooths his palm over the supple flesh of your ass, giving it a light squeeze before proceeding to make his way between your thighs.

“F-Fuck, Jeongguk,” you whimper when his saliva-slick fingers begin to toy with your cunt, separating the folds and exploring the softness; gathering your juices and spreading them from your entrance to the apex.

He takes care to draw a tight circle around the hood of your clit, which has your muscles locking up and a short huff escaping your tongue. Jeongguk plants small, pleasant kisses across your skin until he reaches your ear. Humming appreciatively, his fingers settle tantalisingly close to your opening.

“Do you wanna know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he purrs. A shiver traverses your figure, increasing in intensity when the tip of his forefinger slips almost imperceptibly inside of you. “How long I’ve wanted to kiss and touch you; to watch you writhe underneath my hands?”

“So why won’t you t-take your shorts off,” you mumble, slightly wriggling your hips in an attempt to slide further down his fingers. Unexpectedly, Jeongguk obliges by easing his two fingers inside of you, sinking all the way down to the knuckles. You moan at the sensation of the stretch, deliciously tight.

“Because I want this to be about you,” Jeongguk murmurs, biting softly at your earlobe as he starts to glacially pull and push his fingers through your entrance. You cannot help but greedily bear down on him, rolling your ass into his hand in flawless time to his thrusts, chasing the spark of pleasure that flickers distantly against the pitch black backs of your eyelids.

Jeongguk groans at your neediness. He drags his fingertips against your walls when he draws them out to the very opening, and proceeds to twist them in a spiralling motion as he enters once more, sending you near delirious. Most especially when his voice lowly rumbles out the words, “God, even when you’re cock-thirsty, you’re gorgeous.”

“Ngh– Rude ass,” you mutter and he chuckles, increasing the pace of his fingers inside of you.

Jeongguk draws the tip of his tongue down your throat. He sucks at the juncture until you are a whimpering, writhing mess. Only then does he pull out of you, beginning to slowly massage his arousal-coated fingertips against your clit, worsening your state. Screwing your eyes closed, the sparks glow brighter, and your moans heighten in pitch with your teeth dug into the damp flesh of your lower lip.

“Careful, you’ll wake everyone up,” Jeongguk warns quietly, laving his tongue over the bite and leaning closer so that he can pepper kisses along your jaw. The movement allows for his rock hard length to be nestled tightly against your ass, and you whimper with a sudden surge of fervency.

“Could shut me up with– ah, your cock in my mouth,” you cheekily propound, grinning when the air whistles through Jeongguk’s gritted teeth at the thought.

“Naughty, aren’t you,” he grunts, quickening his pace. Your thighs grow tight, muscles tensing as you bite your tongue and try your best to remain silent, slurring incoherently underneath your breath. “But I bet my mouth could do a better job of that while I’m fucking you.”

“Y-You’re all bark and no bite, Jeon Jeongguk,” you manage through your panting, gyrating your ass against his dick.

Your eyes blissfully roll into the back of your head when Jeongguk reciprocates, rubbing in fluid synchronisation with your movements. His own breath comes up short, and his fingers ruthlessly continue to attack your apex, flicking at the oversensitive bundle of nerves. You teeter ever closer to the edge of your limits. Your body locks up and relaxes in a repetitive, agonising cycle. Your opening clenches around nothing but air and you need more, more, more.

“Say please,” Jeongguk hums, slowing down and resuming to languidly stroking his fingers over your swollen folds. He skirts around your entrance while your chest erratically rises and falls. You lick your lips and feebly latch onto the final strings of your sanity.

“Please,” you whisper, and despite yourself, an embarrassed heat creeps into your cheeks. “Please, fuck me, Jeongguk.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and the warmth suddenly burns. His fingers leave your aching cunt and the warmth of his bare chest recedes. Hands find your hips and gingerly roll you onto your back.

The sudden lack of touch has you feeling fragile, like a single tap by the tip of his finger will throw your body over the edge, and your orgasm will thrash through you in a tidal wave of pleasure. You focus your gaze on Jeongguk as he sits up and tugs his board shorts down his thighs; the material sticks and catches on his skin with built-up perspiration as his glorious, sculpted ass comes into view. A small part of you wishes to reach over and spank it, just to feel how firm it is. Though the idea is stunned into utter silence when Jeongguk turns to face you, and his unclothed length catches your eye.

If Hercules was reincarnated into another being, it would be Jeon Jeongguk. Dick-size included.

“Damn,” you breathe, spreading your legs a little wider and raising an eyebrow. “Will you even fit?”

Jeongguk stares at your centre with his lips parted, an utter mess of his own doing, before dragging his eyes up to your own. He shakes his head out of incredulity as a tiny grin forms on his lips, crawling on top of you again and murmuring, “You’re going to be the death of me, y’know? Saying shit like that like it’s nothing.”

“And what a way to go,” you smile.

Jeongguk pinches your side, smothering your yelp with a short kiss that scatters into a handful of them over your face. He fleetingly pecks at your cheek, chin, nose, and forehead until he pulls back to fondly stare at you. Then, his expression twists into a grimace.

“Shit, I don’t know if I’ve got a condom–”

“I’ve got the rod implant, so go for your life.”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen a fraction, pitch pools of infinity that skim over your features. “Have you, uh– Been tested?”

“Yes, I have.” You snake your hands up his broad, solid shoulders, gliding further until they can tangle into his hair. You knead gently at his scalp. “Have you?”

“Mhm,” Jeongguk hums, the corners of his lips quirking. He leans closer, his body lowering its weight upon you until you can feel his shaft pressing against your folds. An unexpected oh passes your lips at the warm sensation. “So, now that we’ve got that settled…”

“… Back to the good stuff?” you smile with a waggle of your brows.

Jeongguk teasingly growls, pouncing back on your mouth. With one hand on your waist and the other squeezing at your breast, he begins to slowly rock his cock against your slick centre, coating it in your juices. His tongue enters your mouth and touches yours, giving off a moan of his own at the newfound direct contact, which has your heart tripping in your chest.

The rolling motions continue until it feels like your bodies have melted into honey; sticky and unified; saccharine heaven. Jeongguk makes more noise than you first expected of him, and he sounds undeniably sexy when he is so turned on. Small groans and sharp intakes of air occur against your lips, causing your throat to run dry.

Now, he barely even kisses you. Rather, the two of you let your mouths lazily hang open, breathing each other in, tongues sporadically catching on flesh and teeth with every undulation. His eyes—glassy with lust and adoration—are mere slants that peer lethargically down at you, not once leaving your own until his hands adjust so that his elbows support him either side of your body. Jeongguk silently observes your already fucked out features while he reaches down to his cock, spreading your arousal and his pre-cum over the length, lubricating it with a few tight strokes.

Then, ever so carefully, he positions the reddened head to your entrance. Immediately, a shock of electricity darts up your spine at the contact; the realisation of this truly happening. The anticipation stirs the coil tighter within your core.

“Tell me if it hurts, alright?” Jeongguk breathes, gently pecking once at your lips.

He only begins to glacially roll his hips forward after you answer with an assured tilt of your chin. With a tender smile, he tucks his face into the crook of your shoulder.

The vaguely uncomfortable stretch is wholly welcome as his cock slowly fills you to the brim, pushing inside of your slick, hot walls inch by inch until he can go no further. The moan that spills from your lips is loud enough to encourage him to wrap a hand around your mouth. His fingers only slip away once he is convinced not another peep will be made out of you. Instead, the symphony of your combined panting becomes the sole sound that stirs the silence.

But the realisation of you clenching so tightly around him is only made apparent when Jeongguk—still utterly motionless—soothes a palm down the slope of your waist. He murmurs, you okay, baby? into your ear, and you answer with a minuscule nod. A rush of air escapes your lungs, consequently relaxing your tensed muscles, and your core loosens around him.

Jeongguk pushes himself up in order to get a better look at you and the blissed expression settled upon your features. Before you can grin at him, he swoops back in, cradling your jaw and whispering against your lips, “You look unbearably sweet with my cock stuffed in you.”

Pleasantly, you simper, “I’ll look sweeter when that cock makes me come,” which surely has him mentally damning you to hell for having such a sinful mouth paired with that pretty face.

“I look forward to seeing that,” he murmurs.

Leisurely, Jeongguk draws his cock almost completely out of you, the tip nestling an inch within your entrance. Then, he is kissing you with purpose and driving back inside. The flames within you that had simmered for the sparsest of moments reignite in full vigour.

Jeongguk fucks you slow, yet hard. He snaps his hips into you while his palm remains to caress your face, tongue hot and assimilating your own in such a sensual, tender manner that your heart melts. There is something so precious about the way that he does it; taking care of you; ensuring you feel every single inch of him inside of you with each stroke while he kisses you silly. It is as if he is trying to embed his genuine honesty into your skin, tucking the truth of the situation into every crevice of your body, and refusing to let you be convinced that this is only a one-time thing.

Warmth consumes you when you realise this. Jeongguk is opening up. He is drawing his true feelings along your bones, and outlining your lips with the adoration that he has held for you for an indiscernible amount of time. He marks you with his fingertips, tongue, cock—reaching any place that he can in order to prove that he can be devoted, that he has been from the get-go. And he will continue to be, even after this tenuous night of carnality that could have so easily ruined everything the two of you have created.

But here, Jeongguk stares into your eyes and ties your tongues with promises. He fucks you like a dream come true, and swears with a cross over his heart that it has never been anybody but you.

That is all you need to lurch over the edge. The coil within your core suddenly snaps with the tension and brings the wildfire with it. For a moment, all you can see is glorious light, freckling your vision until it consumes you whole and has your bones shaking.

Jeongguk ensures you ride out every last second of it on his cock, filled to the very shaft, sloppily thrusting into you. You cry out at the euphoric wash of your orgasm fizzling from your ankles to your nose, sounding desperate and aching. Jeongguk does not even dare to silence you; careless to the fact that six sleeping bodies surround the both of you, separated by thin nylon. He could never, because he pulled that magnificent melody from the marrow of your being, and not even fingers or toes could suffice to count the amount of times he has wished to do so.

The delightfully blinding white fades to only a shimmer at the corners of your eyes. High on the sight of you, Jeongguk quickly follows, coming inside of you with a harsh shudder and a violent groan from between his clenched teeth.

Jeongguk buries his face into the crook of your neck. Weakly, you coax him through it. You soothe your fingers between the strands of his damp hair, even if you wince at how he continues to feebly thrust into your raw pussy while he coasts through the sparkling remnants of his high. Then, there is a quivering sigh, the emptying sensation of his cock being drawn out of your walls—trails of his pearly cum seeping out with it—and Jeongguk finally collapses to the right of your body, facedown, utterly exhausted.

The silence is unalike to the typical whoops–I–just–had–sex–with–my–friend–and–now–we–are–screwed kind that settles awkwardly in the air and feels like sludge in your lungs. Rather, it is the peaceful patience of catching breath. An elated, lethargic smile tilts your lips at the fact that Jeongguk, albeit his face is hidden, keeps his palm settled upon your stomach. He lazily smooths over the skin in nonsensical patterns until he is feeling vaguely human enough to turn his head, facing you from across the mattress.

There are questions in his eyes, ones that will be answered with intimate time and care. But he resolves to observe the spectacle that is you; the marvellous disaster he has formed with his bare hands. The hand on your abdomen lifts, and Jeongguk shifts closer, enough so that his face is a few mere inches from your own. He watches the individual strands of your hair—stuck to your skin with already drying perspiration—lift and detangle as he pushes them away from your face, delicately running his thumb over your warm cheek in the process.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Jeongguk murmurs, letting his hand drape back over your stomach. You, in all of your giddiness, can barely suppress the giggle; the ardent urge to tease him just a while longer.

Widening your eyes, you blink almost comically at him. “What, have sex in a tent among the surroundings of Mother Nature?”

Even in the dark, Jeongguk’s lovely flush glows. “No! I mean, it’s definitely something to tick off the bucket list. But I meant pushing your hair away from your face, being able to hold you like this, and getting to have you this close to me. You’re so warm.”

“You’ve always…” you continue to eye him seriously, adding in a raise of your brows. “… wanted to use me as your personal space heater?” The last of your sentence sputters as you try to tame the bubble of laughter that expands within your throat, especially now that Jeongguk looks marginally murderous.

“Oh my god. I’m trying to say that I like you, ___. I have since, well, probably the first time we met.”

All of the humour drains from your face as those words spill into the space between you; a confession that has been trapped away in his ribcage, hidden behind his heart for eons. Ridiculously, like a goldfish, you gape at him, speechlessly opening and closing your mouth despite the small voice in the back of your mind mutters: Well duh, he just had his dick inside of you, what else did you expect?

Something changes in Jeongguk’s expression. A stony concern begins to pull tight at his features while the silence draws out, and the hand that circles the skin of your stomach comes to a halt. You, finally finding your voice, feel the complete and utter horror flood into your tone in a tar that makes your tongue heavy; your words sound much more bitter than your initial intention.

“When I was drunk and called you an adorable kid?” The mortification swells in your pitch that rises with the gradual utterance of the question. But it hardly compares to the embarrassment that lights up Jeongguk’s face in varying shades of pink, like a miserable Christmas.

“Holy christ, don’t tell me I’ve been reading our friendship wrong and always thought there was something a little more between us. Like, chemistry or some shit. I don’t know what to call it. I’m not good at this–”

“No no! It’s just that I was so embarrassed that night, and everyone guilted me into believing that I had made you feel uncomfortable and I– You started liking me because of that?” The corner of your mouth lifts at your lack of credence, shaking your head and resting your palm against your forehead. “My whole perspective on that situation has been wrong this entire time, wow.”

“___, you’re really fucking confusing me now,” Jeongguk groans as he pushes himself up on his side, looming over you. His distress is evident in the tautness of his brow, the firm set of his jaw. “Do you– Do you like me, too? Because if you don’t, that’s okay, I think I can take that. But I just want you to know that you– Shit, you’re unlike anybody I’ve ever met. I swear to god that you don’t even seem human sometimes, like you’ve hailed from the night sky. You’re a celestial being who is so good and beautiful and smart and hilarious and full of so much light that it hurts to look at you sometimes. It might be selfish to want all of that for myself, but I do. I have for as long as I remember knowing you. You’re a fucking star, ___, and you’re everything that I’ve ever wanted.”

A cosy warmth encapsulates your heart, body and soul, like sunlight melting on your skin in molten gold. Jeongguk stares at you, genuine adoration glinting in the smooth obsidian of his eyes as he gauges your reaction. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, as if to hide the truths he just spoke that remain painted there, and you have never wished to kiss him so badly.

Glacially, as though you are approaching a frightened animal, your hand glides across the mattress until it comes into contact with his own. You lace your fingers together, quietly musing to yourself at how, in the morning, you had spiralled into a panic over the fact that his palm was melded to your own, and had experienced such a peculiar longing once they were separated. Now, you hold Jeongguk’s hand without any fear of him letting go, nor the thought that maybe, perhaps, this is not what he wants and you are stupidly overthinking.

“Yes, Jeongguk, I’ve liked you for a very, very long time,” you softly confess, the smile that was teasing at your lips stretching into a full-blown grin. “And if this, all of this, doesn’t mean we’re dating now, I’m going to crawl out of this tent and hold myself under the lake with a giant rock.”

“No,” Jeongguk, still blushing and squeezing your hand, says firmly. He blanches when he notices the now flat expression on your face. “I mean no, you’re not going out there and drowning yourself because I, Jeon Jeongguk, want to date you and call you mine.” Then, he backtracks, frowning as he reprocesses his thoughts. “Wait, you will always belong to your own self, but I just want to–”

“Stop right there. Kiss me.”

“Can do.”

And so he does.

It is a scene that is horrifyingly familiar. Reminiscent of approximately twenty-four hours ago in the form of thumping fists and a shouting voice that runs in a smooth baritone. That is, the victory call of the bane of your existence, violently tugging you from the sanctuary of sleep.

Unfocused and rheumy, your eyelashes detangle. The lids stickily separate and you tiredly release a groan from the back of your throat. Reaching up to grab your pillow to smoosh against your ear and hopefully muffle out the noise, it takes you a scarce moment to realise that what your sleepily searching fingertips have come into contact with is, in fact, not the feathery down that you were expecting. Rather, it is something much more natural in texture, smoother like–

A face.

“Jeongguk!” Taehyung screeches from outside, the sound of nylon slapping against his hands reverberating around the small space. “Oh my god, have you seen ___?! Seriously, wake up, this is an emergency!”

Oh, shit.

Eyes snapping wide open, you look up to where your hand is frigidly sprawled to see, yes, that is most certainly a face that your hand is casually caressing. Jeon Jeongguk’s face, in particular. Your boyfriend’s face. Already awake as a result of your best friend’s panicked squawking, he peers down at you from between your fingers. You can feel the crescent of his smile forming against your palm, eyes filmy with lingering remnants of lethargy.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Jeongguk mumbles, listlessly shaking off your hand to fall limply between you so that he can press a kiss to your forehead, making your heart feel fuzzy. Jeongguk’s eyes skim further south, travelling down your bare chest, the curve of your exposed hip, the sunlight that pools on your thigh, hitched over his side. Jeongguk languidly runs a thumb over your nipple, eliciting a tingle from your nerves.

Blinking sleepily, he murmurs, “Damn, I can get used to seeing this.”

“Jeongguk!” Taehyung screams again with more vigour, ruining the pleasant moment. “Wake the hell up, you fucking loghead!”

Planting a dry kiss to his lips, you sigh and tuck your head under Jeongguk’s chin. You make a sweet little sound when he proceeds to wrap his arms around your shoulders, holding you closer. “Y’know, I’d be going out there and murdering him with the chainsaw right about now if this was only a one-time thing. He’s really killing the moment.”

“Mhm, lucky I’m making sure we have an infinite amount of mornings like this,” Jeongguk hums into your hair. Your lips curl against his throat in silent rapture. “How much longer do you think until he–”

“That’s it, I’m coming in!”

“Shit, prepare yourself,” Jeongguk grunts as he hears Taehyung’s fingers begin to clumsily fumble with the zipper. He reluctantly releases you so he can sit up and search for his underwear, calling out, “Unless you want an eyeful of my dick, Tae, I suggest you wait a fucking second.”

“Oh, so now he thinks to respond, the little shit!” Taehyung fumes through the thin wall while you scramble to put your bikini on, knowing that there is not a single way you can avoid the sole outcome of this situation. “Dude, seriously, have you seen ___?”

Pushing your hair away from your face, you knead your knuckles into your eyes. In the process, you feel the delicate weight of Jeongguk’s hand on the small of your back as he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, and your hands shift from your sockets to caress his jaw. Grudgingly, he draws away, gazing at you with such tenderness before he shifts his focus to the entrance. Jeongguk releases a shuddering breath and then yanks at the zip. The early morning sunlight slowly spills onto the mattress as he opens the door.

On the other side, you are met by a frantic Taehyung, who looks about ready to commit a murder. The rest of the boys are slouched in their camper chairs, surrounding the embers of the smoking fire, looking hungover as all shit as the observe the scene.

The panic that has consumed Taehyung’s features slowly slips away as he registers the sight before him. His eyes flick between Jeongguk, who hulks impassively in the entrance, and you, who is situated a foot behind him with an unsure expression twisting your face into a borderline grimace. The silence that has settled over the camp is almost numbing until Taehyung leans back on his haunches, tilts his head towards the boys behind him, though remains to fix his eyes on the both of you.

“Jimin, you owe me fifty bucks! Told you I could fuckin’ do it!” he calls out in unexpected victory, and Jimin groans loudly in disappointment.

For a brief second, you let his words subside into the still atmosphere. Then, your voice is cutting into the air, causing everyone in the vicinity to jump at its sudden sharpness.

“What the fuck, you betted on this?!” you shout, heat rising in your cheeks, most especially when you come to notice the wicked, guilty grin plastered to Taehyung’s mouth.

“Everybody but the two of you saw it coming!” Taehyung tries to explain, scrambling to stand up as Jeongguk starts to emerge from the tent in nothing but his black briefs. You try your absolute best to not be sidetracked by the muscles of his thighs and back, bunching up and flexing as he moves. “The bet was harmless, I swear! W-We just needed to give you guys that extra push–”

Jeongguk, expression utterly menacing, is now completely out of the tent. He stands before Taehyung, who is slowly shuffling backwards and putting as much distance as he can between himself and the giant mass of intimidating muscle. When Jeongguk raises an inquisitive eyebrow, Taehyung fucking flinches.

“What push?” he says threateningly. Given the circumstances, you actually pray for Taehyung’s small, fragile soul that is an inch away from having the shit beaten out of it.

Taehyung chuckles nervously, rubbing a hand at the nape of his neck. “Well, telling you to help ___ pack, forcing you to swap seats with me in the car, making you help her set up our tent–”

“Don’t forget sneaking the condom into Jeongguk’s wallet,” Namjoon pitches in from the smouldering campfire. The surrounding boys begin to cough and laugh.

Taehyung must realise this is the final straw that breaks the camel’s back, because he hastily turns on his heel with a screech and begins to run. Jeongguk immediately charges after him with conviction in his stride, which only sets your group of friends off into louder howls.

“You’re all a bunch of dicks,” you huff as you rise from the tent, folding your arms and walking over to the circle. The lot of you watch as Jeongguk swoops Taehyung up by the waist, hauls him over his shoulder, and starts towards the pier; ignoring Taehyung’s squeals of protest. “Who out of you won money from this?”

You roll your eyes and sigh when Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon nonchalantly raise their hands. Your gaze briefly flicks back to the spectacle that is making its way down the jetty when you hear Taehyung squawk: Don’t you fucking dare!

“Aw, c’mon, ___,” Hoseok reasons with a grin from across the pit, sipping at a cup of orange juice. “It was clear as day that you and Jeonggukie were meant to be. We didn’t mean to upset you guys.”

“We only want the best for the both of you,” Seokjin adds in, stretching in his camper chair. He wears a matching set of pink pyjamas, marring the otherwise natural scenery as a speck of vivid repulsion. With a sparkle in his eye, he smiles up at you and says, “So, does this mean you’re dating now?”

Before you can answer—if the sheepish smile is not an instant giveaway—Jeongguk, standing at the end of the pier with a uselessly thrashing Taehyung cradled in his arms, twists his head to face the rest of you on the shore. Even from this distance, his grin shines like a million watts of pure jubilation. You cannot help but shake your head, smiling widening stupendously at the sight because wow, that is your goddamn boyfriend! Holy shit!

“You bet we’re fucking dating!” Jeongguk hollers, and you feel the sudden urge to bury your face in your palms with a groan of embarrassment. “That award-winning ass is mine!”

Then, without further ado, Jeongguk flings Taehyung high into the air, who screams at the top of his lungs, “Matchmaker of the year, mother fuckers!” before he crashes into the water with a grand splash.

The boys all get to their feet, cheering and spilling orange juice and instant coffee in their flailing antics. Jeongguk, with his hands raised above his head in victory, strolls half-naked down the wooden planks towards you, who meets him halfway. Wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up with ease, Jeongguk spins the both of you around and kisses the laughter from your lips in such an open display of affection that your heart bursts in your chest. All the while, the boys wolf-whistle and applaud as if such a display is deserving of their raucous celebration.

But you would never have them, Jeongguk, nor even Taehyung any other way than this. Your closest friends and your boyfriend. The idiots that fill your heart with so much love you can barely take it. The ones who will forever have you expecting the unexpected.

Note | No wildlife was harmed in the making of this fic, nor did any Kim Taehyung’s accidentally drown due to any embarrassed Jeon Jeongguk’s holding him underneath the lake water for an unprecedented amount of time. Try and guess what lines of dialogue and incidents in this fic have been based off my real camping experiences with my pals!! No, not the smut scene (though doing Jeongguk in the middle of nowhere sounds rather fun).

I hope you all enjoyed this fic as much as I did when it came to creating all of the shit-talk banter for it. I swear on my life it was never meant to be this long, but crackvory clearly lives on. I love you guys, thank you for your support; whether it be in likes, reblogs, messages, or simply reading the story!!

♔ Listen to Violet Rain’s magnificent song that was inspired by this fic!

All Rights Reserved © Vankoya. No translations, reposting and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.