#my moms probably going to take him to the urgent care anyway since last night was really weird

[skyward-floored]

little brother got up this morning and seems way better. still pale as all get out, but his temperature is totally normal?? even though it was 103 last night???

[bellakitse]

All night, I'll riot with you

After the fire, Andrea lashes out at Gabriel and Owen for putting the boys in danger. At the end of his rope, Carlos joins in when he hears them say they weren’t thinking of them.

He and TK have a conversation about what happened at the firehouse between them.

Spoilers for 2.12

For my forever love @beka1820

TK stands quietly beside him as the doctor checks his lungs. They’ve already run tests on TK, and he should probably be outside with their fathers, but TK goes stony silent when the doctor even suggests it. Instead, he stands inches away from him, holding his hand, watching him like a hawk as he breathes for the physician.

“I’m fine, babe,” he says for the third time since they arrived at the hospital. TK’s frown just deepens at his reassurance, having the opposite reaction he wants. He lets out a low sigh before breathing in again like the doctor asks him to.

It takes another ten minutes before he’s allowed to leave the observation room after promising the doctor he’s going to take it easy.

“You’re going to experience some shortness of breath for the next few days,” she tells him, getting an absent nod from TK. “Rest. The both of you,” she looks at them sternly before she turns to leave the room.

“Thank you, doctor,” he calls out to her to be polite as she leaves him alone with TK.

“Home?” his boyfriend questions, cringing instantly at himself.

Carlos can’t help the humorless chuckle that escapes his sore throat but nods anyway, standing up sluggishly. TK instantly lets go of his hand to wrap his arm around his waist, and Carlos finds himself leaning into him, pressing a kiss at his temple as a silent thank you, ignoring the smell of smoke on him.

They walk out slowly, making their way down the hall where they had left Owen and where he knows his father is with the fire captain.

He hears his mother before he sees her.

“Of all the reckless, stupid things you have ever done, Gabriel Antonio Reyes, this one really takes the cake. Our son could have died tonight,” he hears her hiss angrily at his father. He feels TK tense against his body, and when he turns to him, he finds his boyfriend looking back at him with wide, fearful eyes. They round the corner to find his mother’s back to them as she points a finger in his father’s face. Carlos stares in shock, watching as his larger-than-life father shifts uneasily in the face of his mother’s rage.

“Andrea – “ Owen interrupts, proving he truly has no preservation skills as he stands closer to his father, providing a united front. “You can’t blame Gabriel – “

“I don’t just blame him,” his mother cuts Owen off, and he winces at the sharp edge he hears in her voice as she turns her head to look at him. “I blame you too.”

Owen’s eyes widen at her words, opening his mouth once more, but his mother doesn’t give him a chance to speak.

“Two old men acting like cowboys,” she says with a disgusted shake of her head. “So concern with your secrets and catching this guy, you never once stopped to think about the boys and how your actions and arrogance put them in harm’s way.”

“Andreaita, vieja,” his dad says softly, and Carlos swears under his breath. That pacifying tone is the last one his father should be taking with his mother right now.

“No me llames así cuando estoy enojada, Gabriel,” she says tightly, her jaw clenched. “No jodas conmigo ahora mismo.”

“Andrea,” his father says roughly, stunned, and Carlos knows it’s because he’s not used to his mother being vulgar. Neither of them are.

“Your secrets got our boys hurt,” she continues calling them out. “It cost them their home, and it almost cost them their lives. You two messed up. Own up to it.”

He watches as Owen and his father share a look between them, both letting out deep sighs, and Carlos feels something ugly tighten in his chest.

“We were trying to catch an arsonist,” his father explains, or maybe he’s trying to justify his mother’s criticism. He isn’t sure.

“We weren’t thinking about them at the time,” Owen says softly, and Carlos feels the last bit of his restraint snap. He moves out of TK’s hold, pushing his hands away when he tries to steady him.

“You weren’t thinking about us?” he questions, anger coursing through his body so strongly he thinks he’s vibrating with it.

“Carlos,” Owen says with surprise. His gaze moves over his shoulder to look at TK, his eyes shifting downward quickly with something like shame in them. He doesn’t turn to look at TK, but he can only imagine the look he just gave his father. Instead, Carlos focuses on the source of his anger, the two men he admires and who let him down tonight.

“So you lied to us to put on this great spectacle, pretending that you,” he points at his dad. “Arrested my boyfriend’s father,” he says, letting out a bitter chuckle. “Never once stopping to think how that could hurt my and TK’s relationship.”

“Carlitos, mijo – “ his father tries gently, and just like with his mother, it’s the wrong tone to take, and he continues, ignoring the attempt to defuse the situation.

“But hey, you got your bad guy,” he grins cynically.

He feels his eyes sting, ignoring it when a tear rolls down his face. “TK and I fighting over the two of you is just collateral damage, right?” he questions.

Owen and Gabriel share another look, guilt coloring both their faces.

“Except that wasn’t the end of it, was it?” he continues, the anger he feels and the fear from earlier colliding inside him until he thinks he’s going to explode. “A madman tells the two of you that he’s going to take what is most important to you, and you didn’t think of us?”

“Carlos – “ Owen tries again, but Carlos can’t hear it over the rushing of blood in his ears. “We didn’t know – “

“We lost our home, Owen!” he shouts, his throat screaming in protest, but he doesn’t care. “We almost didn’t make it out, and I have to live with the fact that I could have lost TK tonight. I don’t care about me, but I almost lost him because of the two of you,” he points at both of them, his hand shaking as he cries. “My father, and the man who is supposed to take care of TK when I can’t.”

His head spins as his vision clouds from sudden dizziness, and he tries to take a breath as panic claws at his chest. He feels hands he would recognize anywhere on his back and sternum as TK presses himself to his side.

“Breathe, baby, slow and steady,” he whispers urgently, and Carlos hates how worried he sounds. He does what he asks, taking a trembling breath and then another.

“That’s it, cariño,” his mother murmurs to the other side of him as she rubs his back softly like she did when he was a kid, needing her comforting hands.

He takes another breath, grateful when it’s easier to take than the one before. Once he feels in control again, he lifts his gaze to Owen and his father.

“I’ll get past this eventually. I’ll forgive you both,” he tells them quietly, knowing he will in the end. “But I’ll never trust either of you with TK’s safety again.”

Everyone is quiet as his promise resonates through them. After a moment, his mother clears her throat, holding out her hand to his father.

“Keys. I’m taking my boys home with me,” she says to him, leaving no room for argument. His father, still shocked by his words, hands over the keys silently. “Let’s go boys, you two need a shower, some tea, and rest.”

“Dad,” he starts to say to her, looking over at him.

“Your father’s new buddy can drive him home later, or maybe offer him somewhere to sleep for the night,” she answers as she herds him and TK away from the other men. “Either way, if he comes home, he’s sleeping in the den,” she declares, looking over her shoulder at his dad one more time before they leave them behind.

Carlos doesn’t look back like she does. Instead, he focuses on TK’s hands on him, and breathing. Slow and steady, just like his boyfriend asked.

֎֎֎

 Carlos walks into his childhood bedroom, fresh out of the shower. He’d rubbed himself red, but he can still smell the smoke clinging to his skin.

He finds TK on his bed with a cup in his hand, a soft smile on his face as he looks at him.

“Your mom made us some chamomile tea,” he explains, lifting his cup to show him. “It’s really good.”

“It’s fresh,” he answers as he hangs his towel before coming to sit down next to him. “Mom grows the herb in her garden.”

TK makes a soft sound at the back of his throat before passing him a cup of his own. He takes a sip, smiling down at the familiar taste before placing the cup on the bedside table.

“How are you?” TK questions softly as he runs a hand through his wet curls.

“I’m okay,” he answers automatically, getting a sigh in response from TK and a shake of his head.

“I don’t think you are, baby,” he whispers before leaning in to press his forehead against the side of his face, his breath tickling his skin as he circles his arms around him. “And it’s perfectly fine if you’re not. You don’t need to hide it from me.”

Carlos brings his hand to TK’s arm, pulling him in closer, closing his eyes as he clings to his boyfriend’s warmth, feeling safe for the first time in the night.

“We need to talk about what you said tonight,” TK continues softly, kissing his shoulder before pulling back to look at him. “I’m so sorry about pushing you, Carlos.”

“TK,” he starts with a loud sigh. “We talked about this. You don’t need to apologize – “

TK shakes his head at him again. “You’re wrong,” he says to him, remorse clouding his green eyes. “I do need to apologize. You didn’t deserve that, and I should have never put my hands on you.”

“You were upset,” he tries again, only for TK to stop him once more.

“That is no excuse, and you know it,” he says, now completely out of their embrace as he looks at him. “I hurt you, and that’s the last thing I ever want to do. I fucked up, plain and simple, and I am so sorry for it, baby.”

Carlos looks at TK, taking in the gutted guilt in his expression, and reaches out to touch his face. “I forgive you,” he says softly as TK’s shoulders drop with relief. Carlos is ready to take him back into his arms when TK’s expression changes yet again.

“There is one more thing,” he starts, biting down on his lip as Carlos realizes he is trembling. “When you said you almost lost me and that you didn’t care about yourself,” he whispers, his voice cracking as his eyes fill with tears. “Please never say that again.”

“TK – “ he whispers as TK shakes his head, tears rolling down his face as he takes a deep breath.

“I would lose my mind if I lost you,” he continues, steadier. “I love you so much. I don’t know how to do this without you anymore, and I don’t want to. So please, never say that again, and never put my safety above yours.”

“It’s my job to protect you,” he whispers, feeling his eyes burn again as he remembers how close he came to failing tonight.

“And it’s mine to protect you,” TK shoots back fiercely, taking his face in his hands in a desperate hold. “So let’s do that. Let’s take care of each other together, equally, but never putting one above the other, okay? Please,” he begs once more.

Carlos hates the pleading in TK’s voice, not standing the pain he hears there. He takes TK’s hands off his face, bringing them both up to his lips, laying a few soft kisses over his knuckles. “Okay, baby,” he breathes the words into his skin. When he looks up, he finds TK watching him with the same love Carlos feels in his eyes. “Let’s take care of each other.”

֎֎֎

Spanish translations to what Andrea said:

No me llames así cuando estoy enojata - Don't call me that when I'm mad. No jodas conmigo ahora mismo - Don't fuck with me right now

[blessednereid]

LFLLLL Prologue: Mutual Pining

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

WC: 3.5k

Taglist: @rogershoe

~

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        Lydia's House

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"Lydiaaaaaa!" You had barged into Lydia's house unannounced that afternoon. You had work that afternoon, but you called in sick, not physically, but emotionally. And only Lydia could help you. 

"LYDIA LORRAINE MARTIN!"

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Lydia's mom, Natalie, had come out of her office because of your shouts.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Martin, I didn't realize you were home. Your car wasn't in the driveway," you apologized.

"It's fine, dear. Lydia's upstairs taking a nap. You know how much of a heavy sleeper she is."

"Thank you, Mrs. Martin."

"Please, I've told you many times. Call me Natalie."

You nodded before heading upstairs, where Lydia's room was. 

You opened her door, and as you thought, she was lying on the bed, snoring and drooling. A sight you had gotten very used to since you first met her in third grade. 

"Lydia Lorraine Martin. We have a code-red!"

Immediately, Lydia jolted up from her bed and began flailing her arms in the air. She lost balance before falling off the side. 

"Oh, MY- Ugh." You went to help her sit back upright on the bed, sat next to her, and laid your head in her lap. 

"Y/n, what's wrong? Why did you wake me up?"

"We have a code red!!"

'Code reds' were what you and Lydia had when you caught real feelings for a guy. 

When you were younger and in middle school, Lydia had gotten a crush on the cutest guy in your math class. 

On Valentines Day, she wrote him a card and put it in his locker. The card said, "I think you're cute♡︎ What do you think about me?" Later that same day, she found out that almost all of the kids in your two's class had read the card. And on top of that, the guy was a huge jerk about it. 

Since then, you and Lydia vowed to never catch feelings for anyone until you were at least twenty-five. 

"Who is it, babe? What happened?" Lydia asked with a concerned tone. 

"It's Isaac."

"Your partner for the World History project?" 

"Yeah, him," you sighed. "We started getting closer, and he started talking to me, and we bonded over our moms' death, and there were carnival rides and vampires and freezy pops!"

"Woah, Woah, Woah! Slow down!"

"So basically, I did what you told me and took him to the county carnival, right? Then, he told me about his mom dying, and we talked about that, and then we went on rides and fought about their pace, and he was fine after like a two-hundred-foot drop. So then, we went on a rollercoaster, and after that, I was cold because I was wearing a light jacket."

"Okay, keep going…"

"So then he warmed me up by giving me a hug and then led me in the building, and we just hung out there until like five? Then when we were doing the slideshow, he started asking me about my room and shit, and when we were done, we watched that show I told you about, with the high school vampires."

"Oh, the babysitter one?"

"Yeah, that. So, he was actually interested. And then we just kept watching it together throughout the week since we finished the project. And then when we were presenting today, you know I have that stage fright. He just held my hand and calmed me down, and he listened to me after we were done, and he actually cared about it instead of dismissing it.

"Not that you dismiss it, Lydia." She nodded. 

"Anyways, after that, GB had to talk to us, and she ratted me out about writing his name down, and then he got slightly mad at me but not really, and then I explained. And he just told me he would see me tomorrow for our movie night…" you trailed off, debating whether you should tell her the last part.

"So that's when you realized?"

"After that, I turned away, and then he kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, 'see you tomorrow or something like that!"

Lydia chuckled. "So you have a code red?"

"Lydia, I have a hang-out with him tomorrow. I'm not gonna be able to fucking think straight!" 

"Babe, just go and see how it goes. Maybe it's a 24-hours thing, you know? Just adrenaline. It affected you like this because you don't go out."

"Lyds, it's not like that. It's different."

"Y/n, that's what I tell myself before every hookup," she deadpanned.

"Okay, yeah. You're right. It's just a 24-hour thing."

"It's just adrenaline, babes. Nothing more, nothing less."

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  Movie Night

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'Nothing more, nothing less…"

Those were the words that kept repeating in your head as you twisted Isaac's hair around your fingers around Isaac's hair as his head rested in your lap.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

You blinked rapidly.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine!" 

"It's just, you're not watching the show?" 

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about something."

"Whatever you say, princess…" 

Princess. The pet name made your heart flutter, and you thought you would explode. 

"Give me a minute, please!" was all you said before picking up your phone and dashing out the room.

You headed to the bathroom and dialed Lydia's number right after texting her "Code Red Emergency."

"It's not a 24-hours thing, is it?" she said when she picked up.

"No…"

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do…"

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 Previous Day

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╭╼|══════════|╾╮

       Isaac

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

He watched you as you turned around. His nerves crawled through his spine, and he curled and unfurled his fingers before finding the confidence–, no, before finding the ability to move.

When his lips touched the side of your face, his heart was set aflame. 

'How did I just do that?' he thought. But entirely different words came out of his mouth. 

"See you," he said, and he internally pumped the air when he saw your lips curl upwards into a smile.

When he reached class, his actions had finally sunk into his mind. 

He went to his seat where his friend, Dillon Karis, sat beside him. Dillon was the only friend of Isaac, and they had known each other since middle school. 

"Dude!"

Dillon turned his head to his friend, whose urgent tone caught his attention.

"You know that girl I was telling you about?" Isaac said enthusiastically.

Dillon scoffed. "You mean the one who's been taking up all your Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights?

"Yeah, I remember her."

Isaac rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Dude, I think I may actually like her…"

"Holy—" Isaac cut him off.

"Shut up!"

Dillon took two breaths to calm down before speaking.

"Explain. Now!"

Isaac threw his head back.

"I don't know. It's just the way she makes me feel." He smiled. "It's like… the way my mom used to tell me about how she felt about my dad? It's weird."

"Bro, you barely know her. Are you sure?" 

"No, I'm not sure, but I think."

"Well, let me know. This is interesting. Shoulda brought some popcorn today, as I had planned," Dillon burst out laughing, and Isaac followed.

"Dude, I have to go to her house tomorrow."

"Why? I thought you already turned in the project." 

"We have our movie night," Isaac said before realizing what that might sound like to his friend. 

"Oh shit! So y'all already been going on dates?"

"No! No…" Isaac pointed his finger at his friend, signaling him to stop.

"Dude, so what are you gonna do?" 

"I don't know…"

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Movie Night

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Isaac was now highly flustered as he laid his head in your lap. You didn't bring up the kiss, so he assumed he either made you uncomfortable or you didn't like him enough to care. 

He looked at your face to see if there were any signals or indications, but he saw that you were completely zoned out. 

"Y/n, are you okay?"

You blinked before saying, "Oh yeah, I'm fine." 

Isaac raised his eyebrows before turning his attention back to the television. 

When you dashed out the room with little explanation, Isaac took his emotional matters into his own hands. He had decided to get rid of his feelings, sure that they were unrequited.

He headed out of your room and knocked on Stiles' door. 

"Come in!" he heard faintly, and he opened the door.

"Isaac, what's up?" Stiles had barely looked up from his work.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but I need some advice, and I figured that you probably know a lot about girls…"

"Not really, but I'm flattered you would think that. Please come in!"

Isaac stepped into the room and sat on Stiles' bed.

"Is this fine?" to which Stiles nodded.

"So, Isaac. Tell me what's going on," Stiles said before clasping his hands together. 

Isaac took multiple deep breaths. He was about to ask your brother how to get rid of his feelings for you. Who does that?

"I have a crush… on this girl. And I know that she doesn't like—" 

"You know, or you think?" 

"I think, but she's given no sign of liking me…"

"Okay, continue."

"She doesn't like me. And I was wondering if you knew if there was anything I could do to… get rid of the feelings I have…"

"Oh boy. Isaac, I wish I knew. I'm in that same position. However! I wouldn't tell you if I did know. Because you never know, right? Unless they've told you that they don't like you, you don't know for sure. And even then, it could happen in the future."

That was not the advice Isaac was hoping for, preferring to put himself out of his misery before he could get in it. 

"Alright, thanks, Stiles."

"No problem, bud!" 

Isaac walked back to your room, where you were laid down on your back. 

"Hey, where did you go?" 

"Nowhere, I just needed to… uh.. get some air." 

You squint your eyes, and even Isaac wasn't convinced by his lie, but he didn't say anything else before he laid beside you. 

"Lydia is having a party next Saturday. You should come."

"Oh, I don't think—"

"Please, Isaac? It'll be good for you to get out of your house like Mrs. GB said."

He couldn't resist the tug on his heart when you flashed your pouting eyes, and he had to give in.

"Fine, I'll see what I can do. That's not a promise." 

"Yay!" You exclaimed before pressing a kiss to his forehead. The action made Isaac's heart race, and all he wanted to do at that moment was kiss you. 

In fact, it was all he thought of for the next few minutes. 

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Isaac's Daydream

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"Love?" 

"Yes, babe?" you responded to him. 

"This is the spot. Stop going ahead of me." 

You mouthed an "Oh" before laying down on the blanket he set by the flowerbed. 

"So, whose house are we breaking into right now, Mr. Lahey?" you teased. You and Isaac were sitting in the backyard of a foreign house you had never seen, but you followed Isaac anyways.

"Yours."

You scoffed a 'what' as you had never seen the house in your life.

"Mines. Ours." He smirked.

Your face of pleasant surprise made his racing heart slow, as he thought you wouldn't like it. 

"This is our house?" 

"Well, it was my grandparent's house. They left it to me when they died. They said I can only get it when I turn 18, and now since we're together, It's our house."

You leaped onto his lap and kissed him feverishly. 

"This is the best surprise ever!"

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Reality

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"Isaac!" You yelled, and Isaac didn't know what you had said before. 

"Sorry! I just zoned out."

"It's not a problem."

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

You

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"So, do you want to watch a scary movie?" 

You actually weren't planning on doing any of what Lydia had suggested you do, which was to just come outright and tell him you like him. 

Instead, you chose to suffer in silence, thinking there was no way possible that Isaac liked you back. And even if he had, you two would be better off as friends��� Right?

At least that is what you chose to tell yourself.

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Isaac Leaves

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When the movie was over, Isaac went home, and you prepared for bed. 

That night you dreamt of things you wanted in your life that you couldn't have. 

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Your Dream

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"Hey, Isaac?"

You two were curled up together on a couch watching a movie, much like your reality. However, a few things were different.

"What are we having for dinner?"

"Babe, we're in a hotel, and the only restaurants have a pre-set menu. If you want food, you either get what they have, or we Postmates." 

"But neither sounds good. I want Pasta!" 

He sighed. "Then lets Postmates pasta, babe."

"But I want you to make it," you pouted. 

"Okay, how about this." You turned to face him to hear his proposition. 

"I get you dessert with the food they have here, and I make you pasta tomorrow?" 

You smiled and wrapped an arm around his neck.

You hummed before saying, "That sounds perfect," and he kissed you with a burning passion.

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       Morning

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"Y/N! WAKE UP!" Stiles woke you up from your dream. 

"WHERE'S THE FIRE?" You flailed around before falling off the bed. 

Stiles chuckled loudly. 

"MIECZYSŁAW STILINSKI!

"IT'S A FUCKING SUNDAY!" 

You groaned loudly before grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him, effectively knocking him down but not ceasing his laughter.

"Relax, Relax! Dad's taking us out for breakfast."

You rolled your eyes heavily. "Ugh, I hate you. GO! Let me change!"

"Wait! Wait! I have a question…"

"What?" 

"What's going on between you and Lahey?"

You looked down and away from him. "Nothing," you murmured. 

When you looked back at him, his eyes were narrowed, and his forehead was crinkled. 

"I don't believe you one bit."

Your face heated. 

"There's nothing going on, Stiles."

He scoffed. "We may be fraternal, but we're still twins, Y/n. Whatever, I don't like him anyway."

"Why not, Sti?"

He moved his face closer to yours, and you craned your head back for air. 

"Because I'm your brother, I'm never gonna like any guy you date. None of them are worthy of my sister."

"Well, you don't have to hate him because nothing is going on."

"Hmmm... Sure," he stated simply before walking out. 

You got ready, wearing an off-shoulder baby blue top that was slightly… starchy in texture, as well as a pink plaid miniskirt and black slip-on sneakers. 

When you got downstairs, your dad and Stiles sighed a heavy "finally," and you mocked offense. 

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Waffle House

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You got in the car and began driving. You looked out the window enjoying all the sights while Stiles tried to coax your dad into talking about cases. 

Your dad turned and pulled into the parking lot of the Waffle House.

You sat at the counter and talked until someone came to get your drinks order. 

"So, Stiles, when are you going to bring a date home?" your dad asked with a squint. 

"Not anytime soon, He's still stuck on Lydia."

Stiles blushed. "Well, I mean, It's working. She knows who I am. "

"No, she doesn't. But… I do know this girl—" Stiles cut you off. 

"If it's not Lydia, then no, thank you. I'm stuck on her like white on rice."

Your dad interjected your argument. "Stiles, you sound like a stalker. Normally, we arrest people like you."

"Okay, Let's change the subject. Y/n, wanna tell dad about Isaac or should I?" 

You rolled your eyes. "Why should I? There's nothing going on?"

"Wait, who's Isaac?" your dad said while whirling his hand beside his head. 

"He was my partner for a project I had for World History."

Stiles laughed. "We presented on Friday. What have you guys been doing in your room?"

Your dad's eyes widened. "Why is he in your room?" 

"We just watch movies, Dad! We do nothing else!" 

"I highly doubt that. In fact, why don't I ask Isaac right now?" 

You blanched. "What do you mean?"

"He's coming up behind us," he said, looking past your head. 

You began choking when you saw him in your peripheral version. 

"Can I get you something t- Stiles!" Isaac popped up from behind you and began to ask for your drink orders. 

"Hey, Isaac," you said as you turned around. 

"Hey, Y/n!" His intonation was normal, his facial expression was off. 

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

Isaac

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"What do you want to drink?" he asked, though his focus was on your dad's squinted gaze pointed directly at him. 

"Can I get a coffee?" Noah spoke up first. Isaac jotted down his order.

Stiles followed. 

"I'll get an Arnold Palmer!" he said while raising his hand. 

"Is that on the menu?" Isaac asked confusedly.

"No, but it's half of a lemonade, half of an iced tea in one glass."

"Okay… Arnold Palmer." 

"Y/n," the lovestruck boy said with a smile. "What about you?" 

The corners of your mouth turned up. "It's not on the menu, but is there an option for an iced coffee?" 

"Uh, I'm sure there is." He knew there wasn't, but he also knew you didn't like hot coffee much. 

"Are you sure? I don't want to--"

"It's fine, Y/n," he reassured.  

He walked away and headed to the kitchen to tell the cooks the drink order. 

"I need an iced coffee, a regular coffee, and A half-and-half lemonade-iced tea. Please," he added. 

Isaac glanced outside the kitchen window and gazed at you softly. He admired the way your eyes glimmered in the sun and how your hair bounced with every gesture you made. From this, he began to appreciate how amazing your hair looked and how the light refracted off of it. 

He smiled a lopsided grin as he watched the way your lips move. He imagined how they would feel on his. Soft. Smooth. He had the notion that you were probably experienced in that field, more so than he was. 

No. He couldn't imagine that. When he thought about the things he just thought, it sounded creepy and perverted. Besides, there was no way that you liked him back, so even thinking about it would just lead to further heartbreak. 

He grabbed your table's drinks and walked back, trying to ignore your smile because he couldn't stop the race that his heart ran whenever he saw it.

"Alright, here are your drinks."

"Isaac, can I talk to you outside?" asked Stiles.

"I'm actually working, so I can't do that. But, I can take your orders."

He jotted down each of your orders and went back to the kitchens.

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

            You

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"Stiles, I swear to God, I'm gonna hurt you."

"Not my fault you're over here pining after Lahey but won't do anything about it."

"Up your ass and off your high horse, Stiles!" You did your best to be quiet with your statement, but your dad still heard. 

"Hey, hey!"

"Sorry, Dad," you and Stiles said simultaneously. 

You watched the cooks prepare the food in front of you, but you hoped to see Isaac somehow, even though he was in the back.

You thought about his messy hair and how it felt in-between your fingers... How his eyes dilated with each smile, and the tiny specks of green in those ocean blue eyes were always able to calm you down.

You noticed how his lips were never chapped and how his cheeks looked like apples when he smiled, and the one dimple that was prominent in those moments as well. 

You wondered if this was how Lydia felt for the boy that caused their entire concept of code reds or if you began to feel something much more for the boy with the shy demeanor and quiet voice. 

When Isaac came back, you thought about how you could try to confess your feelings. But, you knew that if Isaac was barely willing to talk to you for a long time, it would be a snowball's chance in hell that he liked you the same way. 

"Alright, here's your waffles and your hash-browns, Y/n. Your sandwich, Sheriff, and your All-Star breakfast, Stiles."

"Thank you, Isaac," you said with a smile.

He turned to leave before you called out. 

"Um, Isaac!" He spun around on his heel at your calling with a questioning look on his face. 

He walked back towards you, prepared to write something else down on his order pad. 

"Movie night, tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Yeah, sure." 

"Dorota, you cannot tell me you do not like him."

"Mieczysław, I do not." 

Your dad cut in. "Sweetheart, and if you do?"

"I don't. Can we just leave it at that?" 

~

[inkjam-moon]

Code of Silence Ch 6 - The Set Up (M)

Genre: Mafia AU, light fluff, smut

Member: Min Yoongi

Word Count: 6.4K

TW: swearing, mafia talk, hospital talk, blood mention, sex talk, blowjob mention, shooting, death mention, stitches mention, tiny argument, riding, fingering, breast play, accidental creampie

.

.

“Yoongi cut it out.” You giggle as Yoongi’s lips ravage your neck, his hands sliding all along your body until they land on your ass, squeezing it roughly. He’s had you pinned against the door to his office for the last five minutes, his hips pressing against you so you can feel just how hard he is, the feeling driving you insane with want.

“You still haven’t answered me.” He growls. “Where were you this morning? I rolled over to say good morning only to find the bed empty.” He lightly nips at your collarbone.

“I told you.” You gasp. “I had to help Taehyung and his mom this morning.”

“Is Taehyung so important you couldn’t say goodbye?” He whines.

“It’s the first full night of sleep you’ve gotten in a week.” You chide, pushing on his chest to stop him for a moment. “So yes. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Next time wake me.” He pouts. “I don’t need sleep.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yes you do. Otherwise you get grumpy.”

“Grumpy?” He scoffs. “What am I? Five?”

“Why do you think we haven’t had sex all week?” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Now who’s grumpy?”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can say anything, there’s a knock on the door that you’re pressed against.

“What is it?” Yoongi barks, clearly upset at being interrupted.

“Boss? Um, we’ve got some intel that a couple boys from Busan are at the south docks. Do you want us to send someone out?”

“Shit…” Yoongi sighs, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “How many?”

“Just two or three.” You can tell from the voice now that it’s Namjoon.

“Alright. Get five ready, I’ll be out in a second.”

“Got it.” Namjoon states before you hear his footsteps disappearing.

“Sorry baby.” Yoongi presses a kiss to your shoulder. “This is going to have to wait a bit.”

“Yoongi,” You grab him by the lapels of his jacket as he turns to leave, stopping him. “Be careful.”

He smiles and cups your cheek. “It’s just a check. I’ll be home before dinner, alright?” You nod and let him go, watching as he goes over to his desk and grabs his gun, hiding it in the holster under his jacket before walking back over to you and placing a kiss on your lips. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Soon.” You nod. Stepping out of the way and watching Yoongi walk out the door and down the hallway, disappearing down the stairs. Soon. It’s his promise, it has been in the month since you started sleeping together.

Since you and Yoongi are closer than ever, you can’t help but worry every time he goes out on patrols or checks; with Busan encroaching farther into Daegu territory, it gets more and more dangerous every time he goes out. You don’t like saying goodbye when he leaves; there’s too much finality to the word; so he started promising to ‘see you soon’, letting you gain comfort in the thought that he promises to return to you, safe and sound.

You sigh as you lean against the door frame before heading over to Yoongi’s desk and grabbing your bag off his chair where he threw it as soon as you walked in the door. You can’t lie, the lack of intimacy in the last week or so has gotten to you too; having become accustomed to sleeping with Yoongi three or four times a week minimum, the lengthy absence is driving you mad with an unquenchable thirst, an overwhelming desire to be touched, but because Busan is trying harder to creep in, Yoongi is out more, sleeping less, and hardly around the house or his office. You miss him. 

You close the door to Yoongi’s office behind you and lock it as a familiar face pops it’s head around the corner of the stairs. 

“Y/N! Just who I was looking for.”

“Tae, you saw me this morning.” You remind him as you walk toward him. 

“I know.” He nods. “But I have news I didn’t have this morning.”

“You can tell me on the way to the car. I have to get home and start dinner.”

Taehyung sighs. “Doll, you know he’s probably not going to be home in time. I just saw them all leave, seemed pretty serious.”

You shake your head as you reach the bottom of the stairs and head over to the bar, checking sales as Taehyung comes up behind you. “He promised me it was just a check.”

“So were the last three…” Taehyung reminds you, making your heart sink in your chest.

“Taehyung.” You growl, alerting him to stop before he pisses you off. You hate to admit it, but he’s right. It always turns into something bigger, more urgent.

“Alright alright fine. This isn’t about you anyway, it’s about me.” He huffs crossing his arms as you say goodnight to the staff and make your way through the kitchen and out the back door. 

“What is it Tae?”

“I’d like to formally invite you and Yoongi out to dinner tomorrow night.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Did I forget something? It’s not December, so it can’t be your birthday.” Taehyung shakes his head, a wide grin scrunching up his face. He looks like he’s about to burst. “Do I have to guess?”

“I want you guys to meet my new boyfriend!” Taehyung squeals.

“New- Oh my god!” You squeak, clapping your hands in excitement. “What the fuck, why didn’t you tell me this morning?” You ask, smacking him on the arm. 

“I wanted to make sure it was okay with him! We’ve only been together for a month or so, but I asked him this afternoon if it was okay to tell you and he said he wanted to meet you!”

“Aw Tae!” You grab him and pull him into a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you. Of course we’ll have dinner with you. Why don’t the two of you come over to our place?” You pull back and see Taehyung’s eyes sparkling. You haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.

“You’re the best doll. Wanna say… Seven?”

“Seven sounds perfect.” You smile back at him.

“Alright, um… Do you want some company tonight?” Taehyung asks, worry written on his face as he looks at you.

You can’t help but smile at him. “Why not? The least you can do is distract me.” You state, unlocking the car. “Hop in.”

Taehyung grins widely as you both jump into your car before you pull out of the parking lot and out onto the street making the drive back to your apartment. When you arrive, you shut the car off and you both get out, making your way up the walk, into the building, and up to your apartment. 

“I’m going to go change, do you want to see what we have in the fridge?” You ask, walking over to Yoongi’s room.

“I’m on it!” Taehyung cheers as you disappear into the room.

You change into a pair of shorts and one of Yoongi’s old sweatshirts that he never wears anymore. You don’t think you’ve seen him wear comfy clothes since you got married, just a lot of stuffy suits and dress clothes. You remember when you first met; all he wore were sweatshirts and jeans. You shrug as you grab a hair tie and pull your hair into a messy bun as you walk back out to the kitchen, seeing Taehyung has already turned on the stove and is chopping something on a cutting board. You decide to voice your observation to Taehyung as you flick on the tv for background noise.

“Do you ever notice that Yoongi never wears anything except suits and dress clothes?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen him in less.” Taehyung smirks.

You smack his arm as you walk up to him and lean against the counter next to him. “I’m serious. I don’t think I ever see him in just a t-shirt and jeans anymore. Honestly, I don’t even know if he still owns jeans…”

“Of course he’s always dressed up.” Taehyung laughs, handing you the knife in his hand. “Here, chop.” You move to stand where Taehyung was and start slicing up vegetables for him as he continues, moving to heat up a pan on the stove and turning on the rice cooker. “Think of his job doll. Do you think people would take him seriously in a t-shirt and jeans? Your dad taught him better than that. It comes with the title.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You ponder the thought for a few moments as you continue chopping before changing the subject. “So, tell me about this boyfriend.”

“You’re going to meet him tomorrow.” Taehyung grins, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“Excuse me. I need to know details!” You exclaim, grabbing the pork belly and laying it in the hot pan with a bit of oil. “Where did you meet?”

“Uncle Min’s party actually.”

“Really? Do I know him?”

“I don’t think so. He’s not in the family, I think he just happened to be there that night.”

You nod as you listen, adding the vegetables to their own pan. “So what’s his name?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin.” Even though your back is toward Taehyung, you can hear the smile in his voice.

“And do I get to see a picture of the mysterious Jimin?”

“Mm.” Taehyung searches his pockets for his phone, pulling it out once he locates it, and scrolls through his photos until he finds the one he’s looking for. He holds it up for you to see and you smile. It’s a picture of Taehyung with his eyes closed, his nose pressed against the cheek of an attractive boy with plump lips and an adorable eye smile.

“Aw, Tae you look so happy. He’s cute too.”

“Isn’t he?”

“So tell me more about him.”

“Um… He’s a few months older than me, but he’s a lot shorter. He likes to dance and is part of some contemporary group thing. His laugh sounds like an angel’s, he’s got deliciously thick thighs, ugh…” He trails off, taking the food off the stove and placing it on the plates you took out.

“And since I know you’d ask me this, what’s he got between those thick thighs?” You tease.

“Oh come on doll, it’s not like that.” He giggles.

“Don’t lie to me in my own house Tae.”

“Well,” He blushes harder. “We haven’t gone all the way yet, but let’s just say it’s a monster and I’m glad he’s a bottom.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Thick thighs don’t lie.”

“I’m telling you, this thing is huge. I could barely get my mouth around it.”

“And that’s an image I definitely didn’t need.” You smack Taehyung’s chest, grabbing the plates and setting them on the table before walking over to the fridge to grab drinks. As you grab a bottle of wine, you hear the newswoman say ‘breaking news’ and can’t help but tune your ears to listen.

“Shots fired at the southern docks, leaving three dead.”

The bottle falls from your hand and crashes to the floor, shattering to pieces as you walk over to the tv and turn it up.

“Police are currently investigating a shooting at Daegu’s southern docks that happened only moments ago. Our field reporter Woo Chisun is on the scene. Chisun?”

The video cuts to the on scene reporter as you feel Taehyung kneel down next to you and wrap his arm around your shoulders, holding you tight.

“Thank you Hae Im. Police responded to a civilian 911 call stating that they heard shots fired at the southern docks. Witnesses say they heard a loud argument before at least ten shots were fired in quick succession, followed by the sound of tires squealing. Though the deceased have not yet been identified, we do know that there are at least three victims, and several blood trails that suggest one or more of the assailants may be wounded. With no leads on any suspects, we can’t help but wonder; will Daegu sleep safely tonight?”

.

Yoongi steps out of the car and pulls out his gun to check the rounds in his magazine before clicking it back into place. "So how many are supposed to be here?" He asks.

"Just three, boss."

"Alright." Yoongi stops and turns to face the group. "Joon, Big Kim, I want you on the left. Ji Ho, Dad, on the right. Jin, you're with me. Let's get some eyes on them, see what they're up to first. Then we'll go in and get them off of our turf."

"Hell yeah."

"Let's do it."

The rest of the men voice their agreement. "Alright. Remember, keep it quiet, keep it low, you know the signal. Let's go."

They split up and head down separately through the maze of cargo containers, Jin following closely behind Yoongi as they sneak along the path, ducking around corners to check for intruders. They finally make it up to the marina, not having seen anyone else so far. Yoongi turns to Jin, but before he can signal to him, he hears a sudden commotion and then the sound of gunshots.

"Yoongi!"

That sounded like Namjoon. Shit. Yoongi turns the corner to investigate and sees the cause, a piece of shit with a gun, aiming to his right where Namjoon and Big Kim are located.

"These mother fuckers." Yoongi grunts, aiming his sights, and then pulling the trigger, quickly incapacitating the Busan gunner, but mere seconds after Yoongi pulls the trigger he feels an unbearable pain in his side. "Ah, fuck!" Yoongi clutches his abdomen as he leans against the cargo container.

"Boss!" Seokjin yells, immediately taking out the gunner on top of the container that shot Yoongi. "Shit, hang in there Yoongi." He crouches down beside Yoongi. "We've got one out of the nest!" Seokjin yells to no one in particular. There are a few more gunshots before everything goes quiet.

"Seokjin?" Someone calls.

"Over here!" Seokjin responds. It's a few seconds before Min rounds the corner.

"Shit. Yoongi." Min crouches down beside his son. "We've gotta get out of here, this place will be crawling with cops in a few minutes. where were you hit?" He turns to Yoongi.

Yoongi reveals his bloody abdomen, wincing. "H-here."

"That looks bad." Namjoon states, leaning over his brother's shoulder.

"Namjoon, call the hospital; Seokjin, get the car; Kim, help me get him."

Big Kim and Min both scoop up Yoongi, but as they get him to his feet , Yoongi collapses.

"Yoongi!"

.

“Y/N, breathe.” You let out the shaky breath you didn’t realize you were holding as tears fall from your eyes. “Let me call and see what’s going on. Stay here.”

You can’t move, you can hardly force your lungs to keep breathing. Your mind is blank and whirring with static until it lands on one singular thought: Yoongi. You lunge for the coffee table where you left your phone earlier and immediately press his name. It rings. It rings forever until you get his answering machine. You hang up and try again, and again, and again to no avail. You don’t realize it but you’re quietly chanting Yoongi’s name, over and over to yourself as you try to reach him.

“Shit…” You hear Taehyung next to you. “I… I can’t get a hold of anyone.”

“Yoongi… Yoongi… Yoongi… Yoongi…” You mumble to yourself, dialing and redialing his number, getting his voicemail every time until Taehyung squats next to you and grabs your shoulders.

“Doll, look at me.” You ignore him, trying to grab your phone which he knocked out of your hand. “Y/N… Y/N!” Taehyung snaps, shaking you.

“I can’t- I can’t go through this again Tae. I can’t do this again. I can’t lose him too. I can’t… I can’t lose him!!” You burst, tears now flooding your vision as Taehyung pulls you flush against his chest. 

“It’s not him. It’s not, it can’t be. He’s okay Y/N-ah, he’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“I can’t lose him too…” You whimper, hyperventilating as Taehyung holds you close. The two of you stay like this for what feels like mere seconds, but it’s been an hour, and you still haven’t heard anything, not even from the tv. You cry into Taehyung’s chest as he shushes and attempts to soothe you until you hear a buzzing. Taehyung’s phone. He grabs it off the couch and answers it.

“Hello? Yeah I’m with her… Got it. We’ll be there in ten.” He hangs up and stands, lifting you to your feet and you wince, falling back on the couch, looking down at your feet to see them all cut up and bloodied from the shattered wine bottle. Taehyung shoves his phone in his pocket and then lifts you up bridal style, grabbing your keys and then carrying you out the door and down to your car. He places you in the passenger seat before shutting the door and then climbing into the driver’s seat, quickly pulling out of the parking lot and speeding towards the center of town.

You want to ask what’s going on, but you can’t speak. You can only sniffle. Taehyung wouldn’t answer anyway, he’s too focused on driving, and in a matter of minutes you arrive at your destination. The hospital.

He parks around back, getting out and picking you back up, carrying you in the ambulance entrance where Big Kim is waiting for you.

“Is she okay?” He asks when he sees you’re being carried. 

“She’s got glass in her feet and she’s pretty shaken. She might be in shock. Where is he?”

“Come with me.” Big Kim takes you out of Taehyung’s arms and carries you over to a back elevator with Taehyung close behind. You all get in and it takes you up to the third floor where he walks you down a long empty hallway to the back wing of the hospital where all of the private rooms are located. He brings you into room 337, the same room where your father died, and you see Yoongi lying in a hospital bed, unconscious, covered in bruises and bandages. “He just got out of surgery.” Big Kim states, placing you in the chair next to Yoongi’s bed. 

“What happened?” You ask, scooting as close as you can to Yoongi and grabbing hold of his hand.

“Busan.” Uncle Min’s voice comes into the room. “We were ambushed at the docks. It was all a set up.” He walks over to you and puts a hand on your shoulder as he squats down in front of you. “Breathe joka, he’s going to be okay.” He nods, looking over at Big Kim he adds, “Go find a nurse for me,” before turning back to you. “Yoongi took a bad hit, because something blew his cover, but it missed all of his major organs and muscles, he’s going to make a full recovery.” A weight seems to lift off your shoulders at Min’s words. “And except for Yoongi, no one got hit.”

Just then, a familiar face walks into the room, it’s Hye Soo. “Y/N, I was wondering when you’d get here.” She greets you warmly.

“Hye Soo, I think our girl here might be in shock, and her feet are cut up pretty badly, would you mind taking a look?” Min asks.

“Of course.” Hye Soo grabs some supplies from the cabinet in the room before walking over to you. She does a basic check on you; blood pressure, pulse, oxygen level; before putting an IV in your arm and hooking you up to a bag of fluids as well as injecting a relaxant into your IV before moving onto your feet; cleaning them, removing the glass shards, and then bandaging them. She talks to Min the entire time, knowing that the only thing you’re focused on right now is Yoongi.

He’s so still, so calm, he’s never this motionless in his sleep, so they must have him on some heavy sedatives. You bring his hand up to your mouth and close your eyes, placing a kiss against his fingers. After a few minutes you and Hye Soo are the only ones left in the room as she finishes bandaging you up. 

“I didn’t want you to get hurt. Why does everyone close to me always get hurt…?” You whisper against Yoongi's hand. 

“Don’t blame yourself.” Hye Soo states as she stands. “Yoongi chose this life. He knew what was at stake. He knows the risks and he’s willing to take them. It’s not your fault. Besides, he’ll be up soon. It’s mostly artificial.” You only nod to show you heard her before she pats you on the head and leaves you alone with Yoongi.

You know that. You know he’s going to wake up. You understand what she’s trying to say, but the more you sit here, the more you realize that Taehyung and Yoongi are the only things in the world that you have left; and to see either one of them hurt, artificial or not, shatters you into pieces.

Silent tears slip down your cheeks as you clutch Yoongi’s hand between both of yours, your forehead pressed against your hands as you mumble to him. “I never wanted you to get hurt… I’m so sorry… It should be me…”

“Y... Y/N…” Yoongi mumbles, causing your head to bolt upright. “Y/N-ah…?” His eyes flutter open and slowly focus on you.

“Yoongi…” You gasp, elated beyond words at the sight of his beautiful brown eyes staring back at you. 

The corners of his mouth turn up in the smallest smile as he sighs deeply. “Did I miss dinner?”

A choked laugh comes from your throat as you release his hand and wipe your tears away. “Just by a few hours.”

“Damn. I was really looking forward to it too.” He grimaces as he attempts to sit up, but it’s obviously too painful for him. 

“Yoongi-”

“I’m alright.” He states, laying back down against the pillows before he reaches out to take hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Why the tears?” He asks, concern in his eyes.

You reach your unoccupied hand up to your cheeks to feel the wetness of tears on your cheeks again. You hadn’t even realized you were doing it. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You mumble, wiping the tears away.

“I’m not going anywhere jagiya.” Yoongi whispers. Your heart races at the pet name and you’re thankful Yoongi’s eyes are shut again so he can’t see the hot blush on your cheeks. “They’re going to have to try harder than that.” He smirks.

.

Three days later, Yoongi is allowed to return home on the condition that he takes the rest of the week off to rest and heal and Yoongi agreed; although, you believe he would’ve said anything to get out of the hospital.

You and Taehyung help Yoongi up to the apartment before Taehyung says goodnight to go on a date with Jimin. You wave goodbye and shut the door, helping Yoongi over to the couch to get him settled before walking over to the kitchen to get his medications sorted out for the next few days. Yoongi’s father agreed to watch over things until Yoongi gets back on his feet, so the two of you can relax for a few days until Yoongi gets restless, which you know he will; he can’t stay away from work for too long.

“Y/N-ah?” Yoongi calls to you, interrupting your thoughts.

“Hm?” You turn to face him to see him watching you intently.

“Can you help me up so I can take a shower? I need to wash off this hospital funk.”

“O-oh, sure.” You nod, putting down the last bottle of medicine before walking over to him and helping him to his feet. He can walk on his own well enough, it’s the getting up and sitting down part that he’s not great at because it still hurts his abdomen. With one arm around his waist, you walk him into his room and then into the bathroom and start the shower, turning to see him standing there a bit awkwardly.

“Would you um…” His cheeks turn pink as he speaks. “Can you- I still can’t lift my arms well… Would you mind?” He tugs at his clothes.

“Right, of course.” You giggle as you walk over to him, wondering why he’s suddenly so shy. You very carefully lift Yoongi’s shirt up off his body and deposit it on the floor, but when you go to reach for his belt, you stop, coming face to face with the sight of his injury for the first time.

You can’t help but stare; the way his beautiful pale skin is puckered and pink around the stitches, still tender by the way his abdomen flexes as you brush your thumb against his hip, not even touching the wound.

“It’s hideous.” Yoongi states, catching sight of himself in the mirror and walking closer to inspect.

You shake your head, walking up behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s you.” He smiles at your words in the reflection and the two of you stand like that for a moment before you shake your head again. “Come on, you’re wasting hot water.” You scold as he turns to face you. You grab his belt again and move to undo it when he stops your hands, grabbing your face and pulling you towards him for a soft kiss. 

“I think I can take it from here.” He mumbles against your lips, making you giggle. 

“Right, I forgot. ‘No unnecessary exercise’.” You quote the doctor’s words. “I’ll go start dinner. Yell if you need me, yeah?”

“Of course.” Yoongi kisses you once more before letting you go, watching you walk out of the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Yoongi’s doctor tried very politely to tell you no sex until Yoongi was better, but didn’t want to say it in front of Yoongi’s mother, so he just said ‘no unnecessary exercise’ and then winked as if your mother-in-law was clueless.

You head back to the kitchen and take one of your own prescribed pain medications for your feet; while the scrapes have mostly healed, they’re still a bit tender to walk on; and then you start dinner. You don’t make anything special, just some jjapaguri with steak; you’re honestly too tired to do anything else. Even though you haven’t been doing much at the hospital, just being there has taken so much energy out of you.

Just as you’re filling two bowls up with the delicious noodles and meat, you hear footsteps coming out of Yoongi’s room. Perfect timing. You grab the bowls and some chopsticks and meet Yoongi in front of the couch, placing the bowls on the coffee table before helping him sit down. He nods gratefully as he accepts the help and then the warm dinner you hold out to him before you grab your own bowl and take your normal seat on the other side of the loveseat. You flick the tv on and the two of you sit in silence as you watch reruns of an old game show.

As you slurp up your dinner, you can’t help but feel an awkwardness in the air. Since sex is off the table, it’s as though the two of you are back to square one; two strangers stuck in an arranged marriage, neither one knowing how to act around the other. You thought you were making progress with Yoongi, but maybe you really weren’t? Was sex actually making it harder for you to get closer to him? Have you even had an actual conversation since the two of you started fucking? Is sex all he wanted? Was that the whole reason he tried to get close to you? Maybe he actually cares… Are you overthinking it?

You don’t realize how far you’ve zoned out until Yoongi gently squeezes your arm, snapping you back to the present.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Y-yeah.” You nod, shrugging him off. “Just… thinking about some stuff.”

Yoongi seems concerned, but he doesn’t press the matter. “I’m here if you want to talk.” He assures you. You nod and go back to your noodles. 

When you’re both finished eating, you take your dishes to the kitchen and clean up after yourself before heading back over to the couch. Yoongi pats the cushion closest to him and you can’t help but smile, taking a seat on his good side as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. After a few moments you hear him inhale deeply and look up to see what he’s doing.

“You smell good.” He shrugs. 

“Thanks? I showered this morning.”

“I missed the way you smell. Smells so much better than hospital.”

“Most things smell better than the hospital." You giggle when he inhales again.

"Just let me enjoy this please?" He asks. You simply nod as Yoongi buries his nose in your hair, smiling against you as he does.

.

It's been four days since Yoongi came home from the hospital, and just as you expected, he's as restless as ever. He's constantly pacing around the apartment on the phone with various people from work who all tell him the same thing: "Get some rest boss". The only person who updates him is his father, and even Min is tired of Yoongi's phone calls , frequently ending them with "Go relax" even though he knows Yoongi will call him again in an hour.

The last time Yoongi called him, he only said "Go spend time with your wife" before immediately hanging up. So here you are, trying to watch a movie while tension radiates off Yoongi in waves. You've tried everything to calm him down; board games, video games, movies, relaxing baths, cooking , baking; but so far, nothing has worked. He's just so unbelievably wound up and you feel like there's nothing you can do.

You sigh as you get up , walking over to the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Yoongi, do you want anything?" You ask as you hold the fridge door open.

"I want to go back to work."

"I meant to drink." You grumble.

"No."

You shut the door, albeit, a bit aggressively, before walking back over to the couch and flopping yourself down on it. "So how much longer are you going to be an asshole? Because I can just leave if you want."

Yoongi sighs this time, grabbing your arm. "Don't go. I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm so frustrated."

"No kidding." You scoff, unintentionally reverting Yoongi back into irritated silence. You turn to face him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I should be in Busan right now, fucking up those pricks for what they did!"

"So you can get shot again? I don't think so."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Let it go?"

"No." You shake your head. "You make a plan. Before you go in there guns blazing and make a mistake. You need a plan."

"A plan..." Yoongi ponders this.

You nod. "They set you up, so you figure out how to give it right back to them. Like you always do."

"What do you suggest?" Yoongi inquires.

You think for a moment. "How about a seizure?" Yoongi's eyebrows quirk up in obvious interest, asking you to continue. "We know drugs are their main export, so we get in there and we either take it and dump it, or we make it unusable. I remember abeoji talking about when he did it once. It pissed them off, but they were quiet for a long time so they could rebuild their stock and pay off their debts."

"Y/N-ah... You're a genius." Yoongi smiles for the first time in days. "But how do we get information?" He rubs his chin in thought.

"We send someone in."

Yoongi's eyes snap back up to meet yours. "What?" He asks in disbelief.

"We have to infiltrate, to get someone in there to give us information. It's the only way."

"Unfortunately, I think you're right." Yoongi agrees. "I'll make some calls-"

"Ah!" You push Yoongi back against the couch when he tries to get up. "You go back to work in two days. It can wait." You chide.

"Y/N, I-"

"No." You shake your head. "Just think about it for now. Get it figured out in your head first, then you can start organizing it when you get to work Tuesday."

Yoongi smirks. "You know you're just like him."

Yoongi's comment catches you off guard. "W-What?"

"Especially when you're scolding me. You have the same tone." He chuckles softly, squeezing your side as he scoots closer and puts his arm around your waist. "I'm sorry for being unbearable this week." He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Unbearable is putting it lightly." You tease.

"Mm." Another kiss. "And yet you kept me around."

"I couldn't just throw you out. You're injured. Which reminds me, if you ever get shot again? I'll shoot you."

Yoongi sighs with a soft laugh as he rests his forehead against your temple. "What I wouldn't give to be able to actually move again."

"You don't need to move, you've been pushing it as is." You scold once more. Suddenly Yoongi tilts your face toward him and this time, places a kiss on your lips, making you giggle. "What was that?"

"Every time you scold me I'm going to kiss you to make you stop."

"Oh is that so?" You ask. He nods. "Well it's true, you need to re-" A kiss. "It's the doctor's orders-" Another. "At least until you get your stitches-" One more, except this time his lips don't leave you, they stay pressed against yours.

It isn't long after that he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. After a few more moments, his tongue flicks out against your lips, but you hesitate. 

“Yoongi, your doctor said-“

“I don’t care.” His lips find yours again and this time you give in.

Having not done anything for two weeks makes you feel a bit more desperate than usual, and you quickly become a bit aggressive, pushing back at his tongue with your own as you lace your hands in his hair and tug on it.

"Ah~" He whimpers. "Not so hard." He smirks at you before leaning forward a bit to place a hot kiss against your jaw.

"Mm. My bad." You tug softer this time.

"Did someone miss me?" He growls in your ear.

"You have no idea."

Yoongi chuckles at this before he pushes you back and tries to climb on top of you, but then he hisses in pain. "Aish..."

"Are you alright?"

Yoongi grimaces as he leans back against the couch. "Yeah, I'm okay." He sighs. "Just didn't think it would hurt that much. I guess..." Another sigh. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't think-"

"Oh no, hold that thought." You stop him before he can turn you down and climb into his lap. He stares up at you in awe as his hands find your hips and then reach down to squeeze your ass.

"This could work. You look good like this baby." He grabs your shirt and pulls it off over your head to reveal that you went without a bra today. "Even better. Goddamn you are sexy."

"Thanks, but if you don't fuck me in the next thirty seconds, I'm gonna be sexy and angry." You state, pulling his sweatpants down his hips.

"Anything for you jagiya." He unties the string on your shorts and as you stand up he tugs them and your underwear off before slipping out of his own boxers and then tugging you back into his lap where he immediately slips two fingers inside you.

"Ah, Yoongi~" You gasp, gripping his shoulders.

"Gotta get you ready for me baby. It's been a while."

"Yoongi please just fuck me I can't wait any longer."

Yoongi grabs your thighs and pulls you close before rubbing his length against your entrance. "Whenever you're ready." He presses against you and you quickly sink down on to him with a satisfied groan.

"Fuck, hnng Yoongi." You dig your fingernails into his shoulders.

"Jesus you're tight." He hisses through his teeth.

Even though it's still a bit much, you start moving, desperate for the feeling of him moving inside you. He feels amazing, so amazing. You throw your head back, already lost in the pleasure between your thighs.

"God you're beautiful." Yoongi mumbles, running his hand up your side.

"Y-Yoongi..." You blush as his hands move to your breasts, squeezing them enough to make you even needier. You bounce faster in his lap, but even though you've always been confident in yourself, his comment makes you want to cover yourself up, but makes your core tighten around him at the same time.

"So fucking beautiful." Yoongi smacks your ass. You move your arms to try and cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. "Don't you dare cover yourself." He growls, moving your arms out of the way. "I want to see all of you like this."

Yoongi holds your wrists as he watches you fuck yourself on his length, mesmerized by the sight. The look in his eyes makes you feel hot, and it isn't long before you feel your high approaching.

"You've never looked this sexy baby."

"Yoongi I-I..."

"Fuck I'm so close." Yoongi moans. "Go harder for me." He commands. You obey, smacking your hips against him harder as he lets go of one of yours wrists and brings his hand down to play with your clit. "So fucking beautiful jagi , I love you."

"Ah~!" Your orgasm slams into you as your hips falter, your hands gripping Yoongi's shoulders again as pleasure shoots through your nerves. The tightening caused by your orgasm sends Yoongi into his own high , not giving him time to pull out before he fills you with his hot release.

The two of you sit for a long time, trying to catch your breath as your highs recede. You sit up, peeling your sweaty, sticky chest off of Yoongi's as both of you shiver from the overstimulation it causes. As your brain regains cognizant function once more, you realize something.

"Wait, what did you say?"

Copyright © Inkjam-Moon 2019

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Parapraxis

Note: So this was inspired by @peachchanvidel’s post and partially by that one-scene in Brooklyn nine-nine. Hope you like this :)

Linzin AU, one-shot

Parapraxis: a lapse of memory or mental error, such as a slip of the tongue or misplacement of an object, which, in psychoanalytic theory, is due to unconscious associations and motives; commonly called a “freudian slip.”

---

 If Lin Beifong were to look back at her life, she would think that some spirit was having a laugh at her expense – more than enough for her to wonder whether she had a past life that angered one of them.

 ---

The Dragon Flats Strangler had finally been caught and so the residents of the borough (and the police) could breathe a little easier now.

Chief Beifong tapped the report with her glasses, satisfied with the paperwork submitted. The sunlight was hitting her desk straight on, a signal that it was definitely later into the day and that she had not budged one bit since she sat down after lunch break.

She folded her glasses and placed it in its case. The pile of reports waiting on her desk signified that reviews and approvals were in her next hours. It was time to grab some coffee.

The police chief exited her room, seeing that everyone was working diligently on whatever assignments they had that week. None of that fake pencil pushing here in headquarters.

On her way to the pantry, she saw the Avatar nosily bothering Mako, who was, to his credit, shooing her away. Based on previous encounters with them, Lin supposed Korra was trying to wheedle the firebender into another double date with her and Asami, another blind date that the detective was adamantly against.

She decided to interrupt for the benefit of the firebender who was looking miserably at the pile of paperwork on his desk that the Avatar had been riffling through, likely looking for a piece of paper to write the details of the date on.

“Detective!” Chief Beifong approached the pair; Mako suddenly sitting up straight and Korra leaned back in her seat, waving weakly. “Good job on the paperwork on the Dragon Flats Strangler.” She frowned at Korra who was reaching over Mako’s desk to grab his pen. “I’d expect all of your files to be submitted with the same level of meticulousness and detail.”

Mako slapped away Korra’s hand. “Of course, Mom.” He answered distractedly.

Chief Beifong froze as did the Avatar – and everyone within hearing radius.

The detective managed to get his pen from the loose grip of Korra and proceeded to work on his next report.

Korra cleared her throat to get his attention, throwing a glance at Lin then placing an elbow on top of Mako’s paperwork.

“What?” Mako growled irritably.

“You called Chief Beifong Mom.”

Lin saw a brief look of panic on Mako’s face before it turned stoic again. “You must have misheard.”

“No, you did.” One of the other rookies from two desks to Mako’s right piped up.

Korra pointed at the man, nodding. “See, thank you!”

“No,” Mako emphasized but was quickly paling. “I said, of course Chief.”

“They’re right – you called me Mom.” Lin slowly enunciated then pursed her lips. “Detective Mako, do you see me as a mother figure?”

“I-I-I-.” The firebender could only stammer, a far cry from the capable detective who could easily spout off details of a report without even reading off a copy of it.

Normally, she would feel amused, but she took pity on the young man. “Don’t worry about it,” She attempted to downplay it. “We could have a mentoring session if you’d like, one of these days?”

Mako looked like a cat deer caught in the headlights of a satomobile so Lin quickly retracted. "Only if you’d want to of course, the offer stands but it’s not mandatory -.”

“Yes, I’d like that.” The detective managed to bite out.

She nodded and quickly went her way to the pantry.

Chief Beifong figured, having one more rookie to mentor is not so bad.

 ---

 “Higher, Dad, higher!”

The moment the words left her lips, Lin knew she messed up. She did not want to face Aunt Katara, who would likely pity reflected on her eyes. The earthbender just knew the older lady would be uttering the words “oh, sweetie” within the next few minutes, gently letting her down explaining that the airbender playing with her was not her father.

Lin knew that. It’s just – why can’t he be?

To the Avatar’s credit, he did not even bat an eyelash nor did he lose the rhythm of bouncing Lin up and down using an airball.

Before the waterbender could even remark on it, young Lin hollered quickly before she landed gracefully. “I know Uncle Aang’s not my dad – I just slipped, okay? Doesn’t mean anything!”

“Well,” Aang bent down throwing an arm around her and his airbending son, who was waiting patiently for his turn. “I wouldn’t mind being your dad. And after all, I could very well be your dad when you marry Tenzin here!” The airbender tightened his hold on the two children and brought them closer together.

“Ewww no!”

“Yuuuck!”

It would be a cold day in Si Wong desert before that would happen, Lin glared at the lanky airbender beside her.

Tenzin stuck out his tongue at her.

She rolled her eyes at him, stomping.

“Ow! No fair, Lin!”

Marry him? Of course not.

 ---

 Lin twisted the cap of one of the many soju bottles she had stocked in her house.

She smiled with satisfaction at the crack that the cap made and poured herself a shot. She quickly threw it back, enjoying the subtle burn of the alcohol and making that pleased throat clearing sound after.

The earthbender placed one of her feet on her chair while another one dangled as she sat at her dining area. A variety of fried, greasy and fermented food that she bought earlier was spread on the table.

This was the kind of me time that she could get behind. No one to judge her as she indulged on alcohol and unhealthy snacks. It was, after all, a difficult day for her.

At least, as she picked at the sliced fermented radish and chewed pensively, she did not have to attend the wedding of the century. She was invited, of course, but it was obviously a courtesy invite. No doubt, Tenzin’s bride would not welcome her presence. So she gladly sent her regrets and mailed the RSVP note immediately without even second-guessing her herself.

She skewered a piece of grilled picken and dipped it in a sweet sauce.

The ceremony should be about finished at this time, she surmised as she took a bite of the meat. This would be followed by luncheon at the island and maybe a short program.

The metalbender took another shot.

Then later that night, there will be the fireworks, of course, sending off the last airbender and his bride.

Well, good riddance.

  Lin had finished most of her food and was at her third bottle of soju. She was also at the middle of the book that she had impulsively purchased yesterday (fiction – she did appreciate the occasional escapism reading brought her) when her phone began to ring incessantly.

She decided to ignore it. Her officers could handle themselves for one day; she was sure there was not anything that would not keep until she was back. Anyway, her deputy was bound to be hammering on her door if there was something that urgently needed her attention.

For a few moments, the phone stopped ringing.

Thank Agni!

Then proceeded to ring again.

Lin groaned, she spoke too soon. Stretching herself from her perch in the dining room, she went to the living room to finally bark at whoever was at the other line for disrupting her day off.

“Beifong here – I swear if this is a salesman or you Saikhan I will -!”

“Lin!” The shrill voice cut through her reprimand.

Lin moved the phone away from her ear to stare at it, stunned.

“Lin? I know you’re there!”

It was Kya.

There was no reason for the sister of Tenzin to be calling her at this time.

“What is it?” She tamped down the irritation that the waterbender did not deserve from her.

“Have you heard the news – on the radio?” Kya’s words rushed forth. “Just wanted to give you a heads up – there’s bound to be something in the evening papers. The media would be keen to get your side as well – they’re having a field day! And -!”

“Kya! Kya!” Lin raised her voice to get a word in. “What are you talking about? I’ve given them my official statement for Tenzin’s wedding weeks ago.” She twirled the cord of the phone.

“Lin,” The earthbender recognized the strain in Kya’s voice. “Yes, it’s about the wedding but not in the context that you think.”

Lin paused in fiddling with the phone cord, sensing there was more to the story. “What happened in the wedding?”

“It’s Tenzin – he -!”

Donk-donk-donk! Donk-donk-donk!

Lin raised her head, hearing the loud pounding on the door. “Kya – is this important right now? Is it a security or safety issue?” The pounding on the door could only mean an emergency from headquarters.

“Well, no, but -.”

“Then it could wait.” Lin bit out harshly; if there was a life and death situation at the other side of the door, she could care less about Tenzin and his tacky wedding. “I’ll give you a call later.” She ended the call abruptly.

Donk-donk-donk-donk-donk-donk!

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Lin hurried to her front door, taking care not to trip over her own feet. She definitely needed to sober up before going on field. Without even checking who was behind the door, she pulled it open. “Saikhan! What is the emergency?”

Her eyes widened.

Flying fishopotamus.

Tenzin was standing there in his formal wedding garb, dripping under the rain. He was breathing heavily as though he had rushed in getting to her Republic City house. Judging by his glider which was sitting pitifully in the mud, Lin thought he probably did.

“What the flameo are you doing here?”

Her voice pulled the airbender from his stupor. “Lin.”

Lin inwardly shivered. The way he whispered her name was almost reverently. She shook her head; she must be drunk.

The man took a step forward, a hand extending towards her.

She stepped back. “What are you doing here – you shouldn’t be here – you’re married.”

Tenzin shook his head slowly. “I don’t think I am.”

 ***

“Repeat after me – I, Tenzin –.”

“I, Tenzin - .”

“Take you, Pema to be my wife, my partner in life and my true love.”

“Take you, Lin to be my wife, my partner in life and my true love.”

 ***

“What the -!” Lin let loose a string of curse words that would have earned her soap in her mouth had she uttered them within earshot of her Beifong grandparents.

Tenzin stood back, letting the rain and the wind batter him down.

“What were you thinking!” Lin clenched and unclenched her fist, visibly restraining herself from punching the airbender. “Think about how humiliated Pema is! Your family, her family! Tenzin – go back there and grovel! Pema…” She caught her breath. “She doesn’t deserve this.” The light in her eyes dimmed and the fight seemed to seep out of her.

“And that’s why I’m here – why it’s still you!” Tenzin’s wild eyes sought hers. “Even after everything,” His tone softened. “You still think about others. That’s how selfless you are and how selfish I am.” He wiped back some of the rainwater from his forehead. He inched closer slowly and hesitantly. “Even after everything, it’s still you.”

 ---

Chief Beifong extremely disliked doing press conferences. Given the choice, as illogical as it would have been, she would have done away with the press (something has to be said of freedom of the press and freedom of expression though so obviously the press needed to stay).

After the wedding of the century devolved into the faux pas of the century years ago, Lin did not have fond words for the press. They skewered Tenzin’s reputation and dissected their interactions over the past months of that year.

It took a few more years and several scandals of prominent members of the nobility for their relationship (or lack thereof) to fade from public interest.

Ironically, it was during this period that they started to become closer (with a lot of work and effort from Tenzin, of course and Lin still vacillating between taking him back or not).

The media circus a rabbit hole she dare not get into again, so she better make sure that her speech is flawless.

She shuddered involuntarily as she reviewed her speech, head bent and hands rubbing her temples. She nodded at the staff who were silently hurrying around, making sure all of the microphones were set correctly and the chairs and tables were available for all attendees.

The press conference today was about the opening of the cultural center in Republic City. The council would be there to give their opening remarks and she would speak in her capacity as Chief of Police regarding how the area would be secured.

After all, the cultural center was situated in a reclaimed area which used to be lorded over by triads. It was up to the police force to ensure that no crime or act of terrorism befalls the center and its opening in order to encourage more investors into Republic City.

From her peripheral view, Tenzin’s robes swept close as he sat himself beside her at the conference table set up for them.

She paid him no mind as she ran her finger on the figures in the packet she was reviewing.

“Seems like a huge crowd will be joining the press conference today.” The airbender arranged his own set of papers as he commented on the people who was starting to gather in the venue.

The metalbender gave a soft grunt in reply.

“By the way, thanks for doing this Lin.” Tenzin shifted in his seat. “I know you could have easily sent a representative to speak for the Police Headquarters.” He murmured softly, inching his head closer to her. “And, personally, I appreciate your presence. You know how much this means to me, it’s a chance to show case my mother’s heritage.”

Lin inclined her head and responded vaguely. “Of course Tenzin, you know I love you so I’ll do what I can to support you fully.” She tapped her pen on her speech and encircled a split infinitive. She would need to proofread a little bit better next time.

She felt a warm hand grasp her wrist; she finally looked up at her seatmate. “What?”

Tenzin’s eyes were suspiciously watery.

Lin became conscious with how whispers were increasing in volume. She raised an eyebrow at the airbender in askance.

Tenzin bit his lip, swallowing before tentatively covering her hand with his.

What was he doing? Why was he doing this in public?

Her thoughts were running all over the place. It was not like Tenzin to be bold or even indiscreet.

“Tenzin.” She hissed.

“You just said you love me.”

“I…” Lin went back to what she did say, realizing belatedly that she did. “I guess I did.”

The whispers were definitely louder this time.

Tenzin gripped her hand tighter; his other hand gesturing forward.

Her heart skipped a beat.

A microphone had been placed on their table for sound check without her noticing it.

Her declaration had been heard in the entire hall.

 ---

Lin Beifong swirled the wine in her glass, silently observing the people weave in and out of the dance floor.

Say what you want of the damn convict, Varrick truly knew how to throw a party.

She reflected on her life so far.

As much as she had emphatically refused to have children, Lin woke up one day realizing that, without meaning to, she had inadvertently taken in several teenagers under her wing. Thank the Spirits that Mako, the one mostly with her, was someone after her own cranky taciturn disposition.

And, despite her steadfast refusal in her youth, in front of the man’s father, she looked at the ring that adorned her finger for decades, Lin found herself wed to Tenzin.

Something has to be said about slips of the tongue, of the unconscious. When you feel strongly about someone or something, it was bound to slip right out – the truth escaping the barriers that the mind has built.

If this was how the spirits feel like treating her after all those mortifying moments, Lin Beifong decided that she was not one to complain.

After all, Lin contemplated with wonder as she looked at the spirit portals across the island with her husband landing a soft kiss on her forehead, unplanned and spontaneous words come up with the best results.

[helenazbmrskai]

title ‹ Christmas bribery ›

pairing ‹ soldier!seokjin x oc ›

genre ‹ Christmas/holiday au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst but barely there ›

summary ‹ This is the first time you can’t go home and celebrate Christmas with your family so your mom makes sure you don’t spend the holidays alone happy to learn that Seokjin, your mother’s best friend’s son is taking his annual leave near the 22nd of December from Military services. This story is about the biggest Christmas bribery of the century. ›

warnings ‹ swear words here and there, bad puns? ›

word count ‹ 6.2k ›

notes. I’m here to deliver a light read to set the mood for the holidays and I hope all of you will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the process of writing it. In this Christmas collab, I had the chance to meet with these amazing people so I’m sharing this story as a gift and as a thank you!

this is part of the Christmas fic collab that was suggested by @kooala​ please check out the masterpost and enjoy every story we share! 

”You did what?!” I feel dizzy due to the sudden movement of my body jerking up in a sitting position, crisscrossing my legs under me as my hand holds up the phone to my right ear a little bit more pressingly after hearing the breaking news. That she tells me with a singing tone sounding so excited but I can’t seem to share her sentiments as the bewilderment decorating my voice is in sharp contrast with the silence that settled on the cosy apartment like a thick feather-filled duvet. Nibbling on my thin lips I locate the single gingerbread scented candle on my desk still illuminating the interior of my messy bedroom the flames licking up the walls and disappearing near the ceiling, creating pretty shapes and lights over the dull paint, it helps me regain my composure before I realise that mom is not yet finished talking.

”Well he needed a place to stay and busses won’t go out because of the upcoming storm his apartment is in Daegu and I’m sure he’ll be tired from the flight.” Flicking on the lights I take in the sight, clothes piled up on the chair’s armrest whilst dirty plates littering every usable surface, fuck, if my room looks like a pigsty I don’t want to imagine how the other rooms are looking right now.

I was so immersed in doing great on my finals that I don’t think I cleaned the space up for a while.

I should start doing my laundry so I have something to wear as I already look to be out of clean t-shirts inspecting the pile of unwashed jeans and other garments, momentarily embarrassed to see I’m also out of room to place new dirty clothes on top of all these.

”What are you implying mother?” Pursing my lips, I honestly start to lose her train of thoughts as her rant goes on and my eyes wander over the state my apartment is in after stressful weeks but knowing her ways she’ll start with building on my conscience until she realises that I’m no longer an unsuspecting five-year-old girl and she’ll pull out the big guns and dust off her bribing skills.

Whatever her plan is, she always makes me go accordingly no matter how much I try to resist or protest and I feel a knot form in my throat at that. If this is about my non-existent dating life again that she called me to discuss in the dread of the night, I swear I’m gonna flip a table or something.

”You remember Sunha’s eldest son?” Answering back with a question as she often likes to do, doesn’t throw me off balance as it used to.

I’m long ago accustomed to getting her ways to twist the conversation to her favour so I’m ready to fire back my reply in the same form matching her up. ”How is your best friend’s son has to do with any of this?” Utterly confused by the mention, that must lace my tone since she lets a lightsome laugh bubble up in her chest I can picture her dimples are showing in full display because of it.

”Did you even pay attention to a word I said?” She sounds more amused than accusing, letting me know that she actually doesn’t mind how my head gets airy sometimes, her playfulness earns a groan from my side of the line, it’s getting pretty late and I have not enough brain cells left for her mind games.

”Spit it out, mom. You know I love you but I had a rough week so spare me of your wicked schemes.” I breathe out the words orbs closing involuntarily as I rest my head against the door frame. Where was I going anyway?

Maybe I should go for a hot chocolate before bed.

It’ll be weird not seeing my family for the holidays but I don’t want my mom to worry about me so I made sure to be extra cheerful all the time when she called only ignored her attempts of reaching me like one or two times as I had to study for two last exams and now that I can finally relax the exhaustion seems to catch up to me. I’m fine being on my own, making food and seasonal sweets while I watch tv without any interruptions, sounds like an excellent plan for Christmas, not caring how loud my music is or how bad my singing voice is under the shower.

No family means sweet alone time awaits, no one will tell me to go to sleep and I didn’t need to worry what kind of a present I should purchase at least for a little while.

”Do you remember Seokjin or not Y/N? This conversation will last longer if you don’t cooperate with me.” I can practically see her eye roll directed at me in front of my eyes despite she’s twenty miles away from here, wishful thinking on my part that she’ll let this conversation go if I ask her to stop beating around the bush.

”I don’t know. Maybe?” A fragment of my memory is triggered by hearing his name, and a scenario appears out of nowhere that was a few years ago in Sunha’s second marriage ceremony as I stand in a pastel lavender dress.

Mother was otherworldly happy for Sunha that day she dragged me with her as she chatted away mixing with the guests until we settled down to our table - when the cake cutting took place - that consisted of the bride and groom themselves and close family members like Sunha’s sons and his significant other’s daughter and, of course, my mother and I was present too.

I remember sitting down and just looking ahead aimlessly when I locked gazes with a handsome man his posture was immaculate and he seemed happy for his mother but couldn’t hide how restlessly he fidgetted in his seat, his eyes couldn’t settle watching only one thing, he even looked skittish as he jumped in his seat when the girl sitting on his left tried to catch his attention. Our eye contact lasted less than five seconds and his presence remained for thirty minutes at most as he apologised to her mother and everyone at the table since he had some urgent affairs to attend to.

I probably looked shocked for the reason that mom whispered the words into my ear when he left so suddenly to make sense of things. ”That’s Jin, her eldest son he serves in the army he probably couldn’t get a full day off because of his duties.” After humming in an understanding gesture I fixed my gaze onto the cake slice in front of me.

I remember that man clearly but with purpose, I don’t elaborate further than that, so she doesn’t have the compromitting piece of information to latch onto and make it a bigger issue. She would be elated to know I do remember Kim Seokjin, well, he’s hard to forget in the first place, he smiled only once as his mother hugged him at the table and even if it lasted for less than a second the expression was captivating. Howbeit if she tells me that she organised a date with him I’m going to slam my head to the closest hard surface I can tell. He’s so out of league and dating someone with such a dangerous profession at that, it’s not going to work, doesn’t matter how much I find him attractive and charming.

”It doesn’t matter I guess. You two could get to know each other eventually as he’ll stay at your apartment.” She drops the bomb before disconnecting the call, she doesn’t even wait for my protests this time around. A groan leaves my lips while I look around the house promptly throwing my phone to land on my bed in the means of letting out some of my frustration. I need to get going and make this house presentable again, that hot chocolate needs to wait I guess.

 from: unknown number

[7.22 AM] Hi it’s Seokjin. My plane will take off at 9ish can you send me your address?

 Grabbing my phone from the kitchen counter I open the message from the unknown number the device almost slips through my fingertips as I rake my eyes over the content hesitant about how to reply I turn to my friend who so generously offered her help to tidy up my living space a little before my unrequested guest arrives. With a broom in her hand, she looks back at my weird facial expression.

”What is it? It’s him?” Gaun asks abandoning her cleaning tools to read the message as well peaking over my shoulder in order to do that. ”He sounds so uptight even in text. Brr.” She shakes her shoulders in simple displeasure that earns an eye roll from me, it’s not that he’ll send hearts when our encounter was years ago for like five seconds. Honestly, I’m surprised that mom and Sunha were able to talk him into this in the first place.

”He’s a soldier Gaun and on the contrary, we don’t know each other he has no reason to be friendly.” Gnawing on my lower lip I click on the message to reply, typing a few lines before I deleted it and rewrote it before hitting send.

 [7.34 AM] Hey of course. Call me if you don’t find your way.

[7.34 AM] *google map link attached*

 from: Seokjin

[7.35 AM] I will thank you

 ”Let’s hurry up we don’t have that much time.” I place the phone back on the counter resuming my cleaning and Gaun starts to swipe the floor where she left off all the while I can hear the washing machine work in the distance.

 I could feel my heartbeat in the pit of my stomach when the doorbell finally rang and at the other side of the door, there’s Kim Seokjin in all of his glory, that handsome soldier I got a sneak peek at his mother’s wedding wearing a formal suit and tie combo that he pulled of so nicely. I wipe my hands with a towel leaving the leftover plates in the sink as I rush to open the door for him.

”Hi.” I greet him with a friendly smile plastered on my face, I have to tilt my chin upwards to meet his eyes, he’s even taller than I remembered and he’s wearing his military uniform. My hold on the doorknob tightens how unfairly handsome he is with his hair parted in both sides leaving his forehead uncovered his uniform is well fitted and compliments the curves of his waist and thighs the cherry on top is his platform jet black boots that matches with the colour of his hair that I love so much.

A well trained German Sheppard sits near his foot with his tongue out as soon as I crouch down to pet him so focused on the animal that I almost don’t catch Seokjin’s timid ’hello’ in return, the dog’s tail starts to wag furiously seeing my face at his eye level he throws me off balance as he marches forward for more pets.

”I’m sorry he’s not normally like this.” The handsome boy offers a hand to help me up with a sheepish look, I accept the extended hand with a faint blush ignoring the pain that shoots up to my ass because of the impact with the floor. His hand is bigger than mine as it gets fully enveloped in his warm ones.

”Mom didn’t tell me you have a dog,” I chuckle lightly as I pet the dog’s head one last time unsure what to do with my hand that he no longer holds. ”I mean, she didn’t tell me much just told me you’ll come today.” His unique laugh sounded nice ringing in my ears, it made me smile up at him as he playfully shook his head. It’s weird how relaxed I feel around his presence when I was shaking with nerves just moments prior, and I’m still not entirely comfortable with him but his whole aura has a calming effect on my body. I don’t think I’ve ever met with someone that makes me feel so at ease when it’s basically our first meeting.

”Yeah, well, I think we both got played by our mothers.” I have to agree on that one with him. Realising that we’re still standing in front of my entrance I beckon him to come inside stepping out of the way so he could easily slide his luggage beside him his dog’s paws leave imprints on the clean floor but I don’t mind it as he looks so excited about everything inside sniffing and exploring while Jin tries to make him behave scratching his neck when his dog doesn’t seem to listen to a single word.

”Sorry he’s making a mess.” Seokjin apologises seeing the muddy paw marks after connecting our eyes for a few seconds he follows the steps into the kitchen. ”No Cookie that’s not food for you.” The young soldier immediately runs after his companion when he tries to steal the cinnamon rolls from the kitchen counter and I can’t help but laugh at the sight as he scolds the dog.

This is going to be an interesting holiday season I can already tell.

 ”I can’t believe this fucking jar.” I contemplate to smash it against the counter after spouting several curse words when a hand landed on mine directly on the jar’s lid, I feel Cookie’s fur brush against my exposed leg having enough evidence to know who’s this arm belongs to and I turn around in a moment of weakness. Jin’s hair rests on the top of his head in a messy style sweat dampening the ends.

”Need some help?” His eyes hold a childlike glow in them as he brushes his fingers against mine replacing my digits with his and the lid pops easily in his hands.

I can’t say this display of physical strength doesn’t make him even more attractive in my eyes I barely pay attention to the fact that he stands so close I can feel his chest meet mine as we breathe handing back the opened strawberry jam.

”Thanks.” I hastily turn to avoid his gaze even though that doesn’t offer much advantage as he leans closer pushing his chest against the line of my back watching as my hands spread the jam over the walnut biscuits.

”Want a taste?” Feeling bolder than usual I face him again holding up a finished treat to his mouth, Jin makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat but parts his lips obediently letting me slip the food between his teeth.

”I’ll leave as a stuffed chicken if you keep feeding me these delicious treats.” Despite the indication, he doesn’t seem against the food I offer as he tries to steal one more from the plate but I pull his hand away curling my fingers around his wrist.

”Let me finish before you devour my hard work you pig.” I roll my eyes watching his childlike antics, he seems to take pleasure in riling me up from time to time. It’s been two days since he and his companion Cookie arrived and things just worked out smoothly Jin is a nice person with horrendous jokes but he does help out a lot around the apartment he even fixed my broken ladder so we can decorate the Christmas tree that he insisted we need to purchase when I told him I was not going to go all out and celebrate this year. After all, I was supposed to be here on my own.

He’s so used to training at headquarters that he leaves every morning to run for an hour before he comes back all sweaty and satisfied finding me eating my breakfast or drinking my coffee it doesn’t matter what’s in my hands he always needs to get the last bites from it. He’s really not good for my heart.

”Since you’re doing the sweets how about I make us lunch today?” Jin asks excitedly resting his head on top of mine gently careful not to put too much weight on me, my heart speeds up at the sweet gesture not trusting my words so I nod instead. One of these days I can’t wrap my head around his intentions, he looks so nonchalant as he does things like resting his head on me or patting my knee when we watch tv together with Cookie curled around us on the couch.

”I can’t work like this.” I use the excuse to separate our bodies, is it just me or the kitchen is getting hotter by every passing second, or it’s just my cheeks heating up due to his body moulding perfectly with mine. It doesn’t help either that I remember he’s sweaty under his shirt after his daily exercise smelling nice when he probably shouldn’t have. I busy my hands to glue the biscuits together with the jam moving slightly to the side a little further from Jin’s warm body, he doesn’t say anything else as he decides to leave the kitchen Cookie stays for the sake of finishing his meal before going on a quest to find his owner leaving me behind with my thoughts.

I wrap things up quickly after that, placing the treats in the middle so Cookie can’t reach it and clean up the jam stains before retreating to my room.

It’s a pleasant surprise to check my phone and see that my mom tried to reach me an hour ago, she’s up uncharacteristically early. Too curious to find out what she wants I dial her number without a second thought, it’s been three days that she called and that time she told me Jin will stay at my place until he has to go back to the army. Whenever I think about that a frown seems to climb its way up to my expression I got used to seeing him around the house that I tend to forget he won’t be around when the new year comes and it’s scary to think about how attached I feel to him or rather how lonely I’ll feel once this is all over. He’s a busy man in general and serving under the Military’s name means he can’t be here when I need him, it would be as painful in the long run as a long-distance relationship would be. Not that I assume he’s interested in me that way.

”Hey mom sorry I didn’t hear your call. Is everything alright?” I press my phone to my left ear, closing the door behind with the help of my foot before sitting down at the edge of my bed. Seokjin’s low hum and the sound of pots and pans indicate that he started soon after I left the kitchen, it’s early to start lunch already but Jin is always restless like that.

He needs to find things to do or fix because he gets bored easily, he told me that when I picked up on his punctuality that he always has to move like a clockwork at the base he developed a habit of making use of himself and he needs to constantly do things to keep his restless energy at bay so he can sleep well at night.

He wakes up exactly at six in the morning every day even without setting up his alarm. I think it’s endearing when he thumps his foot absentmindedly even if he’s watching a movie he’s interested in, legs spread wide in a comfortable position on the sofa, his body just never relaxes completely.

”Yes dear I called early to say Merry Christmas to my baby!” I giggle in response hearing her excitement conveyed through her voice. ”I hope you enjoy your Christmas present.” Her tone turned suggestive and my laughter died down, heat rose to my cheeks and my thoughts spiralled to Seokjin’s direction.

”What’s that supposed to mean?” I glance at the door listening for the noises to make sure Jin can’t hear my flustered tone, he’s still in the kitchen and that helps me relax a little until my mom’s knowing hum filled the silence in the conversation.

”Are you getting on well with Jin right? He’s a real sweetheart so treat him nice ok?” Can’t help but all the more agree with her, he’s very considerate and funny, I think he’s the one who’s treating me nice even though I supposed to be the host, he helps out a lot and good company to be around. He sometimes misplaces my things like moving plates to a higher shelf when he knows I can’t reach it there without his help and he cracks terrible jokes that I secretly like very much and Cookie is the apple of my eye already, I think he listens to me more than he listens to Jin at this point (there might be a tiny connection that I often give him special treats during his owner's absence) and I found it hilarious as he sulks on the couch calling his dog a ’traitor’ when he decides to rest his head on my lap instead of Seokjin’s.

Little things like that make me like Seokjin more and more with each passing day.

”I’m treating him just fine mom he said he gained weight since his arrival blaming it on me, don’t worry and enjoy the holidays with dad, after all, it’s the first time that you two could celebrate with just him after so long.”

”Will do darling. I hope you’ll have a wonderful time as well I know that finals were stressing you out so I hope that you are able to relax now.” We deemed the conversation finished after wishing each other happy holidays again and for once I feel like I can mean my words as I feel relaxed around a certain someone.

”Want to place the star on top?” Jin shoved the decoration piece in front of my face whilst I placed food on the coffee table to feast upon as we watch classic Christmas movies until we can’t keep our eyes open since it’s the first day of Christmas.

”I’m not stepping on that ladder you fixed, it looks like a death trap.” Eyeing all the nails and patches on the poor thing.

”If it can hold my weight so can yours.” Jin states the facts, placing the star into my opened palm with a mischievous grin. ”I’ll hold you so don’t be a baby and decorate with me, it’s not as fun doing it alone.” That pout, dangerous and he knows that I can’t possibly say no to that when he asks me so nicely with that adorable full lips of his.

”If I fall I’m dragging you with me, just saying.” I keep our eye contact to get my point across with a meaningless glare, the corners of my lips twitch to morph into a smile hearing his happy chuckles using that moment to turn to the ladder taking the first step up the stair the scent of Jin’s aftershave hit my sensitive nose feeling his hands curve around my hip squeezing my sides to reassure me he’s here to catch me. I can blame my wobbly legs because of the shaky ladder or on my fear of high places but I can’t fool myself that the delicate shake that overpowers my body is because of the excitement I feel as I daydream about his hands on different parts of my body. It feels nice to be held by him.

”Hold on for deer life then.” A fond smile appears on my face hearing him laugh on the pun he just told me, forget my inner turmoil in the meantime placing the star to add the last piece before we declare it’s complete.

I almost can’t mask the look of disappointment I feel when he lets me go once my feet are planted on the ground the star placed on top.

”Told you it’s safe. I’m here to keep you in one piece, sugar.” His hand landing on the top of my head, caressing my hair for the time length of two outdrawn strokes before he lets his fingers fall beside his body to prop around his hips observing the tree with so much excitement that he failed to see my blush due to the pet name that probably just slipped out without any meaning behind it.

”No Cookie it’s not yours love.” I catch him before he can bite a big chunk out of our late night dinner as we’re not paying attention, it created an opportunity for him that he would’ve been foolish to disregard.

”Cheeky pretty thing just like his owner, huh?” It slips out as I pet Cookie’s head kneading the soft short furs around his ears that he knocks our heads together in beaming excitement because of the affection.

”Cookie really likes you Y/N.” The affectionate gaze he looks at me with knocks the air out of my lungs, it sounded like for a split second that he means he likes me too. Wishful thinking I remind myself before looking away clearing my throat to get things started plopping down onto the couch with a big huff leaving my lips.

”I’m starving, get your fat ass over here so we can watch Grinch.” I beam at him acting like his previous comment doesn’t hit hard as I pull my plate closer taking a bite out of the grilled chicken.

”How rude-olf of you!” He fakes his crocodile tears but as his ass hits the fluffy blanket nearly ripping my hot cocoa out of my hands it doesn’t seem like he’s feeling an ounce of hurt over my words. It’s silent for a while as we bash under the Christmas lights our faces illuminated by the tv munching on our food and sweets laid out before us Cookie resting on the rug near our feet.

”It’s been a while since I had such a nice Christmas.” Jin sighs burrowing his face onto my shoulder I can feel his breath fan over my skin the movie is long forgotten as I let his words sink in. Tired to fight the urge I tilt my head to rest it against his the moment appears to be too intimate for strangers let alone friends. ”You smell nice too.” I feel his nose around my neckline turning further into me as he inhales the scent of my hair, maybe it’s because it’s getting late but I let the feelings wash over me.

”Did you drink from my mother’s ’secret Santa’ labelled punch or something? I told you she’s a witch when it comes to alcoholic beverages.” I laugh lightheartedly and Jin follows suit hitting my left thigh when his laugh makes me laugh harder that results in my stomach twisting in pain from all the giggling even so as he starts to tickle me to take his revenge. He manhandles me with ease as he pins my wrists with one hand over my head ticking my torso with the other straddling my hip so he can restrict my squirming under him.

”You’re stronger! That’s not fair Jin.” I whine under his crushing weight, cheeks flushed from the exercise and his close proximity an innocent smile lits up his entire face as he regards me under his form, the Christmas lights are illuminated in his dark orbs creating a pretty image of him. Hair sticking to every questionable direction full lips stretched to house his angelic smile warm radiating from his body so close to mine.

I wish this moment could last forever.

”What are you thinking about?” Tilting his head in question he looks into my eyes with a fierce expression, I gulp not knowing to say the truth or come up with something on the spot. I decided it’s time for the truth.

”That I..” My sentence gets interrupted by Cookie’s barking I haven’t realised that he around the time we were occupied left his spot and watched us with curious eyes. He licked both of our faces as soon as he had the attention and Jin got up from the couch to pet him as Cookie nudged him with his nose to show him his empty bowl.

Maybe it’s a sign that I shouldn’t. Right. What was I thinking? Seokjin is never home he serves the country all the time, married to his work to the extent that he has no time left for himself, he doesn’t have the capacity to form a serious relationship with me and he’s probably not looking for love either.

It’s for the best that we separate after the new year.

 I formed a plan after almost confessing my love for him to avoid any other scenarios like this in the future, to be honest, I hated it but there’s no other way for me to get over him quickly even if my heart told me I should enjoy my little time left with him I choose to ignore his attempts at spending quality time with me.

If he asked for a movie night I told him I was busy or tired I took my meals to my room telling him that I need to pick up my studying schedule for the next semester, I had the most ridiculous reasons and I’m sure he figured me out after the second time I dismissed our plans and I can’t say seeing him hurt over my words and futile attempts at lying doesn’t felt like I was stabbed with a dozen knives into my heart.

I should have stopped myself before I got too deep because now I’m hurting both of us even if he’s only mourning for a lost friend.

A scratching noise interrupted the flow of my thoughts I tiptoe all the way to the door looking around before my eyes land on a restless Cookie. He reminds me so much of his owner but he normally stays with Jin I wonder what is he doing here scratching on my door. Is he out perhaps?

”What’s wrong? You seem sad.” I crouch to his level so I can caress his fur and his tail begin to wag instantly when I pull back Cookie grabs my sleeve with his teeth careful not to hurt me before he pulls me out of my room. I try to regain my footing but he pulls me harder until my door shuts behind my back.

”Cookie. What’s up with you suddenly?” I ask him even if I know there’s no reply to wait for I observe his body language before realisation lit up in my round orbs. ”You want me to follow you somewhere sweetheart?” Hearing that he let go suddenly making me lose my balance and collide with the floor cushioning the hit with my butt just like the first time I met him when he nearly run me over with excitement. He tumps his foot as he walks away hardly leaving enough time to catch up to him. He sits down in front of Seokjin’s door, or precisely the guest room he occupies for a short period I remind myself. My eyes soften after noticing it’s his way of showing that he doesn’t want us to part in bad terms. He’s smart.

I take in a deep breath mulling over if I should talk to Jin but looking at Cookie’s hopeful eyes I can’t possibly turn around and ignore this anymore. Jin deserves a better explanation than just accepting the fact one day I ghosted him.

I raise my hand to knock on his door when I hear his voice, he’s talking to someone over the phone since I didn’t hear the front door opening or closing that would mean we have a guest and I don’t think he would invite someone here without discussing it with me, no matter if we are in speaking terms or not.

”I don’t know what happened. I thought we are good but then the next day she didn’t want to do anything with me. I’m confused.” Is he talking about me? To whom? I know eavesdropping is bad but I can’t make my body pull away from the door as I listen intently. I don’t hear what the person from the other side says only Jin’s answers that I’m able to make out as I press my ear to the smooth surface.

”Of course I tried talking to her mom! What if I said or did something that made her hate me? I don’t want to leave like this, we had so much fun. I don’t want it to end this way.” Jin groaned frustratedly while listening to his mom, hearing his voice so worried and tense talking to his loved one about me that knows me very well, I feel ten times worse for ignoring him without giving him an honest explanation.

”I like her mom, but maybe it’s already too late.”

Retreating to my room in sheer panic when he cuts the line to afraid to be caught to rationalise the words I overheard. He likes me too.

All this time I thought that my feelings are not reciprocated whilst in reality I’m just a big coward, I hid behind the fabricated words that his profession is something that doesn’t sit well with me and he has no time to have a girlfriend, but I never tried asking what he wanted. If he wanted to give us a chance or not.

These thoughts plagued my mind until I fall asleep that night, however, tomorrow will be something different.

”Good morning.” I greet Seokjin as he walks out with only his sweatpants on eyes puffy from sleep, he’s so startled by my voice that he jumps at least five centimetres above the ground and the chuckle I let out witnessing his fright confuses him more.

”Uh, good morning.” He replies, at last, passing my form to pull out a mug probably for his morning coffee but I have his fill in my hand while mine is placed on the counter next to my hip. ”The ghost of Christmas visited you last night or something?” Jin watches my form suspiciously but accepting the steaming cup of coffee with a soft ’thanks’ rolling off of his tongue.

”Something like that. Can we talk?” I meet his gaze shyly picking up on my nervous habit as I nibble on my lower lip his eyes soften up.

”Yeah, let’s sit.” He prompts and I nod following his figure to the dining table where we sit on the opposite sides of it. We drink our beverages in peace for a few minutes before I lick my lips nervously opening my mouth to talk.

”I like having you here Jin. This Christmas with you was wonderful even your bad puns are surprisingly funny.” The man in front of me giggles at that, hearing that I had fun with him dismissed some of his insecurities and he looks more relaxed sitting before me sipping on his drink occasionally, waiting.

”I’m sorry for ignoring you it was very childish of me and you deserve an explanation. If I’m being honest you scare me.” His eyebrows shoot up at the mention and I’m eager to make things clear. I don’t want him to take my words literally. ”Or maybe it’s me. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I like you a lot. It scares me because you’re a soldier and you’re never home and I would be so worried wondering about if you are safe.”

”Even if I say all of that I couldn’t make myself to unlike you because you’re funny bad pun or not, caring and affectionate and too good for this world...I just really like you.”

Shying away from his intense stare I choose to observe the rim of my mug watching the dark liquid swirl in my cup when a finger tapped on my chin to look up. The brightest smile adorned Jin’s face that is so close our noses almost touch.

”I normally hate to say that our moms were right all along but right now I’m just glad that they made us spend this Christmas together.” Seokjin’s forehead knocks against mine as we laugh, nodding subtly to avoid more damage as my smile spreads wider I notice how Jin’s eye keeps looking between my eyes and lips and I can’t wait for him to finally reduce the short distance closing my eyes to fully appreciate his finger caressing my jaw, cupping my face letting our breaths entangle for a short second before I get to taste the coffee on his lips.

[writingsfromhome]

Hot Waters

A/N: this one’s a little more dialogue, but you manage a hotel Harry stays at and have to help him with an issue.

Part 2

———————————————————

As a manager of an upscale hotel I saw a lot of celebrities filter through the door. I could probably write a book, my own version of a tell-all exposing some celebs for what they really were. Sometimes the nicest ones were the snappiest and other times, the ones you thought were rude and stuck up took the extra time to thank your staff warmly and treat everyone with respect.

I’m in for the evening—that’s when most of them came under cover of the night, when they didn’t want the papps to know they were in town. Tonight’s guest stays a few feet from the counter as his manager or whoever checks him in. A false name of course, James Smith.

I glance at the man, the soft curls and stylish outfit, strong jawline and lean body. I could tell it was Harry Styles, this was a first for me. I could add him to the imaginary tell-all book in my head: oddly mute but just as cute in person. He looks antsy, fidgeting with his phone.

He catches me staring and nods. I give him my best customer smile and get back to the man finding his ID to show me.

“Thank you sir, here’s the key cards to your suites. Enjoy your stay!”

They barely acknowledge me, he’s already grabbing Harry’s arm and pushing him towards the elevators. Cool.

I don’t think much of it until five minutes before I leave for the night. It had been a long day for me covering since the breakfast shift—the morning manager was out sick. I was ready to fall asleep on my ride home but one of my newer staff comes up to me urgently.

“Hey, Y/N, suite 1203, the man is really annoyed and saying his hot water isn’t working.”

“Did you tell him how to turn the hot water on?” I ask, thinking she didn’t do a thorough job.

“Yes,” she looks upset. “Like three times before he just asked to speak to someone else.”

“Okay...” I wander to the front and take him off from holding. I check our database ahead of time for the name, James Smith. Of course. “Hello Mr. Smith, I heard about your hot water. It should be working-“

“It’s not! I got in thinking it would heat up but I was drenched with ice cold bloody water!” He sounds like a child about to throw a tantrum. I found working for celebs was just like working for glorified children sometimes.

“No other suite has made this complaint, the hot water is definitely working. Would you like a staff member to come check?”

He finally sounds reasonable, “Yes please, that would be great.”

“Let’s go,” I tell the newbie, she was still in training so it would be a good opportunity. But just as I step out from behind the counter an elderly customer walks up and I have to leave her behind. Guess this was my last task before heading home.

I knock on the door 1203 and hear a shout from inside that it’s open. I try the lock but it isn’t so I just use the master key and slip inside.

“Hi, Mr. Smith-“

“We both know it’s Styles,” Harry...Mr. Styles is dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is wet and he really looks like a teenage fantasy. And with the way my eyes are glued to his abs, maybe I was reliving some teenage fantasy.

“Mr. Styles,” I clear my throat but from the way his mouth quirks I know the silence between when he spoke and I responded was a little too long. Long enough to notice I was staring. Jesus, I had to stay professional. I recall how he sounded on the phone-he’s just a big man baby, I remind myself. I was just way too single. “I can show you how to turn the hot water on so you don’t run into this again. We apologise for the trouble.”

He sighs, “You don’t need to apologise love, I was just frustrated b’cuz a nice relaxing shower turned into an ice bath.”

I let out the breath I was holding and erase the entry I’d written in my head about him so far. Replace man baby with: don’t judge based off his first impression, might be as kind as everyone says?

“Well we’re sorry about that anyway,” I head to the bathroom. I try to ignore the way he’d made the room personal in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t my job to pry into my customer’s personal lives...but it was so tempting!

I head to the shower and show him where to turn to get the hot water. It was simple but he claims the showers he’s used to, have the hot and cold on opposite sides. I would have pointed out there was an H and C engraved into the handle but the shower is such a small space and he crowds over me as he pays attention, I didn’t want to stay any longer. I’m very aware his towel brushing up beside me is the only thing he has on. I stumble back and compose myself.

“Is there anything else I can get you sir?”

“Please it’s Harry, don’t call me sir. Makes me feel weird.”

“Right, Harry.” I walk out into the bedroom and he follows. “Do you need anything else?”

“Um,” he looks off to the side to think and I can’t help myself—I take the moment he’s distracted to drink him in. He was fine indeed. My eyes catch on his famous butterfly tattoo, actually all of them. It was cool seeing them in person.

“You have any of your own?” Harry asks and my eyes snap up. I feel myself get hot, he caught me staring! But he doesn’t seem angry, he seems to think I was looking at his tattoos. I roll with it.

“Don’t tell my mom but yeah,” I reply. I only had two and managed to keep them secret from my very traditional family. Harry laughs and asks to see them. I show him the wildflower curved behind my ear. His breath tickles my hand that holds my ear down to show him.

“How do you manage to hide that?” He asks. I’m suddenly self conscious he’s studying me so close.

“A little bit of foundation, a lot of wearing my hair down.”

“Surely your mum wouldn’t care that much—you’re an adult.”

“You haven’t met my mom,” I think about her. “She’d say something like, ‘my tattoos are the reason I haven’t settled down’ or something.”

“Bloody hell,” he laughs. I feel a strange high knowing I’m making him laugh, he was being so friendly. Like an old friend. It was rare, but sometimes I forgot a customer was a hot shot musician or actor when I had one-on-ones. That usually scored them a down-to-earth point in my imaginary book. Maybe I just caught him at a bad time earlier, I think as he points to his tattoos, “I don’t want to know what your mum would say to me.”

“Um, Sign my arm so I can ink it probably?” I joke. I warm as he laughs. “She’s actually a huge fan of you, always has plenty of commentary when we watch the award shows. Claims she dated someone who looked just like you in high school.”

Oh god, I was blabbering. But from his expression, he finds it amusing.

“That’s lovely,” he studies my face again and I try not to squirm. I retreat back into professionalism, about to ask if he needed anything before I left—my shift probably ended. But he asks, “You said there were two. What about the second one?”

My body feels prickly, this was a customer and I was about to flash him-well not entirely but showing him where my second was...it was a big no being who I was and who he was!

“Right here,” I casually slap the general area of my underboob when he continues waiting. He raises an eyebrows and I just bite my lip. I was past nervous—at this point I was surprised my legs themselves hadn’t given away.

“May I see?” He asks, his face is intimidating when he asks so seriously. At least he was being polite, and he seemed genuinely interested.

Wait, was I really doing this?

“I...don’t know if that’s the best idea?” I squeak. He flashes me a smile could make a grown woman like me take off my shirt to show him. But I’m frozen in place.

“Is it personal?” He asks. Oh my god he didn’t get why I didn’t want to show it. Maybe I was the one making it a big deal.

Okay, I would show him.

“No, it just requires me to untuck my shirt,” I joke. “But I’m off for the night now anyway so I guess I can...” Every tug of the fabric feels like it’s slow motion, the blood rushing to my ears sounds like the roar of the ocean. He steps closer to me—still only in a towel! And finally I lift up the shit to just under my bra, the tattoo is the words the sun will rise again curving under my boob. It was a gentle reminder I kept close to my heart, and Harry was the first person aside from my best friend I had shown this to. It was strangely intimate.

He reaches out his hand and stops halfway, realising where he would be putting his hand. He retracts it and lets out a nervous laugh. I almost sigh at the missed contact.

“That’s really beautiful. I like the quote,” he says honestly.

“Yeah,” I can barely meet his eye. “It’s a good reminder. I can think of like, 10 worst-case-scenarios at any given moment. So...”

I trail off. The tension in the room seems to have grown in the last ten minutes. I’m inhaling it, and Harry is breathing it. And when I finally make eye contact with him, I can’t tell if he’s judging me or just watching me. He’s chewing on his bottom lip just staring at me, I can’t help but feel initimidated.

“Maybe I’ll get going if you hav-“

“You’re off your shift?” Harry cuts me off.

“Well,” I check my watch. “As of ten minutes ago yes.”

“What would you say to joining me for a drink?” Harry asks. Was this a drink drink? Oh my god, is this what happens when you flash someone your underboob.

“I’m not sure if that would be appropriate,” I feed the automatic line we’re all trained to say. But inside, I’m muffling my heart that wants to say yes I though you’d never ask.

“Well,” Harry says. “You’re just providing superior customer service.”

“But I’m off the clock.”

“So hard working,” Harry jokes. “She stays even after her shift is over.”

“You’re also dressed in just a towel,” I point out. He looks down and even he seems surprised. I laugh, “So that won’t exactly go down very well with my boss.”

“Aren’t you the boss?” Harry asks, his eyes scanning his open suitcase to pull out sweats. He steps into the bathroom—where moments earlier he was demanding a hot shower.

“Sort of, I co-manage. But I don’t own the hotel so...I have to answer to someone. Hey-didn’t you desperately need a hot shower?”

Harry doesn’t even close the door, but a minute later he’s back out in sweats. “I did, it was a long day travelling and I wanted to relax. But you’ve managed to do that for me.”

“Nice to know I’ve got the same charm as a hot shower,” I say cheekily.

“You’ve got more charm than a hot shower,” Harry goes to the minibar. “Now what can I make you?”

“Oh you’re making the drinks? Here? I can just ask the staff to bring up-“

“No, just sit down. I’m taking care of this.”

I boost myself up onto the dresser and watch him mix drinks. This close, I can reach out and trail my hands over his tattoos, see the stubble coming into his face, see the dimension to his hair. I was so totally single, just being this close to someone remotely good looking turned me absolutely gaga.

“So tell me honestly, how this is,” Harry hands me the concoction, watching me closely. I take a sip and nearly snort it out, it was strong.

“I don’t think I could drive home if I drink all of this,” I cough. “That almost went down the wrong pipe.”

Harry takes a big sip of his and laughs, “If you’re driving, don’t take any more of this.”

I settle the flute down and Harry places his down beside mine.

“I don’t have anything else to offer,” he looks at me.

“I can still ring something up for you.”

“I think I already rang up what I wanted,” he leans in, he was flirting. With me! And I can’t help myself. I lean towards him too. I forget where I am and what kind of trouble I could land myself in if I let this go through. I can’t even think straight, I just want to-

His fingers on my face jolt me out of my hypnosis. I lean back and slide off the dresser. I could get fired! What was I thinking!?

“Where are you going?” His brows knit together as I move away from him.

“I should get going home, I’ve been in since 6am.”

“Oh course,” Harry clears his throat. “Yeah-sorry I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“No it’s fine,” I say. “I would love to provide some of that superior customer service. But I really am functioning on one bar right now. I’ve got to go home and recharge.”

“Recharge yeah? A hot shower maybe?” Harry teases.

“Hm, yeah if I can get the hot water to work,” I tease back and I swear he blushes.

“I know a place where the hot water works 100%,” he tilts his head to his bathroom. Now it’s my turn to blush and walk towards the door.

“Alright,” he sticks out his hand when I turn to say bye. I stare at it before realising he wanted me to shake it. “Goodnight.”

I laugh and take it, “Goodnight Mr. Styles.”

Oh for god’s sake, I’m caught staring into his eyes again as we shake hands. He doesn’t let go of my hand and I can’t break eye contact. Finally, he cracks a smile and I look away. I really had to go or I could not hold myself back.

“Don’t hesistate to contact front desk for anything,” I say as I open his door. “And maybe don’t drink too many of that whatever mix you made.”

He pouts, “It’s the only thing keeping me company tonight.” Maybe I was right, he was a big baby. But one who’s cheeks I wanted to pinch. I resist the urge and wave before heading to the elevators.

I let out a breath when I get on. If I wasn’t careful, the man in 1203 could land in me some hot waters, no pun intended. If I wanted to keep my job that I loved, I had to make sure I steered clear of him. For good. And maybe find myself a boyfriend. Because...that was a close one.

[bigskydreaming]

Okay haha I lied, whoops I do that. THIS is the last one. Again from various parts of ‘Kings of the Sky’ but since I was talking so much about Dick’s grandfather, why not some snippets of him from this series too. (For this AU I imagined what if Dick’s paternal grandparents lived into their eighties, like do we KNOW they couldn’t have? Hmm? Don’t answer that if we do, shh, let me have this. Anyway, so here Dick’s grandmother died when he was two and his grandfather when he was five.)

Dick is retelling this story about him and his grandfather to Jason and Cass.

************

“But there is no King of the Sky, Dickie,” he’d said to me then with a wink. “That’s the joke, you see? No one can claim the sky as theirs, no one can own it. Send your armies to seize it in your name and all you’d see is legions of empty-handed fools all grasping at air! There’s no way to draw your borders, no foundation on which you could build any walls. And where would you even put your throne?”

“He’d laughed then, mischievous and wheezing, as he recalled all the courts the circus had entertained back in its glory days, when Europe’s nobility would always each host some circus or troupe or performers at various festivals. All the kings and queens for whom he’d performed his signature feats, who’d show him off to their most important guests afterwards. The ones who had been invited specifically so they’d see that this court held only the grandest of celebrations, that they and their guests were entertained by only the very best of the best.”

“Oh, but they were always so eager to introduce me by title,” he’d said, rheumy eyes still somehow keeping their sparkle. “There they were, kings and crown princes, pushing me forward and telling their guests to come greet me, this commoner they were all too glad to proclaim royalty no different to them. After all, any king can present his guests with an entertaining spectacle, but how much grander is the king who hosts the spectacle of being entertained by another king? Ah, but they were always more than happy to elevate me if but for the night…in doing so, they elevated themselves as well. Up we all went, all without feet ever leaving the floor!”

“Names can be such a funny thing, don’t you think?” He’d sighed and sort of mused then, stroking his chin like he was pondering some great mystery. “Meaning nothing and everything all at the same time. That’s a powerful trick. Useful too, if you can master it.”

I know I started giggling then, just because as far back as I can remember, names were always kind of a…almost a passion of his, I guess you could say. It was just this thing he did, it was like he could never just let a name be. There was always some trick to a name, he’d insist. You just had to find it. Its why our family colors were red, yellow and green, as a matter of fact. All in only the brightest hues of each, combining to make us the complete opposite of the Gray in our name.

"The crowd comes in to see the acrobat named Grayson,” my grandfather would say, “and what do they expect from just the name? Drab, unremarkable, likely to be lost in the shadows, from just the sound of him. But then he dives off the platform in a burst of colors impossible to miss and the crowd gasps, expectations shattered in an instant….and from there, they think, what more surprises might possibly await? And already you have them at the edge of their seat, eyes caught by the colors of a costume its impossible to lose sight of. You command their attention, you’re unencumbered by their assumptions, and they’re yours from that moment on. And all of that from just a pop of color, a warning that you are not what they thought….and a name. A Flying Grayson, up above as expected, yet unexpectedly the brightest thing in the sky. An inherent contradiction. An impossible sight you can’t help but to see.”

“Anyway, so there I was,” Dick said, straightening up and shaking his head with a slightly rueful smile, as if to physically pull himself out of the undertow of memories tugging him further away from where he’d begun. “Already giggling just from his little chin-stroking act as he started talking about names, because I knew he was bound to say something silly next, just from that. And he’d jumped a little, and turned in his chair to face me directly and with his full focus, because Grandpa thrived off of an engaged audience like nothing else.”

“Yes, a powerful thing, a name,” he’d continued after a moment that was either a dramatic pause or me thinking anything longer than ten seconds might as well be the same as an hour, at that age. “But a tricky business, naming things, as you first have to know what a thing is, before you attempt to claim it by naming it what it is not. Because being named can just as easily be a powerful trap, of course. If a man doesn’t know himself well enough to know he is not what a name claims, he can wind up stuck in a cage that’s not sized to fit him. Simply because he doesn’t know he has more than enough room to slip free of it if he tried.”

“Then he leaned down close enough to me to whisper, and looked around as if checking we were alone before dropping into a raspy whisper like we were conspiring. “But a man who knows what he wants and knows what he’s capable of, and can put the right name to both….that’s where the real magic is. Do you know what kind of power your name has?”

“Richard means lion-hearted,” I remember reporting after some thought. And that he blew a raspberry right after that like he was the five year old of the two of us, but then, Grandpa was just like that sometimes. “Yes, yes, true enough,” he said, making a face like he’d tasted something sour, “But I don’t mean the one your father picked probably to spite me for naming him John in the first place. No matter how many times I tell him I had nothing to do with that, I lost the right to name him in a card game with your Grandmother. Although for the record, I still maintain I didn’t lose, she just cheated. But I still have no idea how she did it so I have to respect that, I suppose. But no. Not that name. The one your mother gave you.”

“And of course then I knew he meant Robin, and said so, and he asked what that meant to me. And I remember thinking long and hard about that one, because as I said, I knew even by that age what Grandpa was like on the subject of names, and so I was sure there was some kind of riddle or game in what he was asking, I just wasn’t sure where. So finally I just referred back to what my Mom always used to say, about me being born on the first day of spring, and being her little Robin. And he just nodded, and then he asked: And do you remember the first time you called yourself Robin to someone else, and why? What you said then?”

*******************

And then from the very last (intended) installment, ‘Its a Long, Long Way To Tipperary,’ again with Dick telling this to Jason and Cass and finishing a conversation started earlier in the series:

“Names have power,” Grandpa said to me, on one of the last days I remember with him before he passed away. We were sitting outside in folding chairs and watching the stars, until he got too cold and we had to go in. But while we were out there, so much of what he said…I didn’t really understand most of it at the time. Honestly, even what I thought I understood, I realized years later wasn’t really right. I could follow the words but so much of what he meant, I didn’t even begin to understand until I happened to look back to that night years later.

But for months I’d heard my parents talking when they thought I couldn’t hear. I’d seen him doubled over and coughing more and more frequently, how tightly he clutched a blanket around him when it wasn’t really all that cold. I may not have fully known what was coming but I think I knew on some level that something was coming to an end.

And I remember him talking so fast that night, words spilling out so quickly in a confusing mess like he couldn’t take the time to shape them properly and just had to get them out….I remember soaking it all in, as much as I could, knowing that it was important even if I didn’t know what it even was, or why. Like I was trying to just….absorb it, make it a part of me the way it almost felt like it was bleeding out of him. I don’t know that the thought, the image of him dying that summer, of soon being without him, I can’t say whether that actually ever occurred to me. I just know that I knew urgency, and I knew Grandpa was only urgent when it mattered, so I listened without understanding and somehow managed to store most of it away. And honestly, I don’t know that he was even trying to make sure he was understood, or even caring….so much as just trying to get it out of him, like what was most important was just that he said it and it was heard. Maybe just so he knew it wouldn’t die with him.

“But however it got there, however it was I managed to remember clearly enough, there it all was, and right when I most needed to hear what he’d said to me that night. The things nobody else could have told me because nobody else knew the secret language of names that he seemed to speak, that he’d spent his whole life learning all so that maybe he could somehow in that find his own name. Not the label he’d been left with, a description or title.....but a name, the one each child is supposed to get, something to say who they are, not merely what.”

“Names have power,” he said to me that night. “They can be magic in the right hands. A man who knows who he is knows his own name. And the things you can do with that, the doors that can be unlocked…oh, Dickie, my boy. There’s a door to anywhere if you can speak the right name when asked for a key. But its not enough to just say them and throw them around, its not the sounds, the words, its what they are. You can’t pretend to know a thing, to know yourself. You have to really, truly know. But once you know….for a boy as bright as you, there’s no end to the possibilities.”

“So here’s what you must always remember, the real trick of it all…..names have power. But the power isn’t in the name. The power is in what you put in that name. You can’t claim a name and therein take its power, you see….because you have to know first what you’re trying to take from it, what you see when you look at it. What you want it to be, want it to give to you, what you want it to make you when you say this is me and I am this. Your father named you Richard, though he calls you Dickie. You were born a Flying Grayson and thus you always will be. Your mother named you her little Robin, born on the first day of spring. And all of these can be you, because no one is just one thing. And yet none of them are you unless you claim them to be.

So if you are to be Robin, as your mother named you but is only you if you choose to say yes that is me…..before you claim it fully, before you truly make it yours, you have to look at Robin and what you want the mirror to show when you look in it and say I am Robin and this is me. You have to see Robin not as even your mother sees her Robin, but as you see your Robin.

That’s the danger and that’s the trick.

You can’t claim Robin while seeing only what someone else sees, and think that by claiming it you’ve claimed its power….instead you’ve just claimed a trap, donned a self that doesn’t suit you because it is not you, only something someone else thought could be you.

Because in claiming that, you claim everything that comes with it….and then you will never be free to be more than whatever they thought you could be. There is no power in that, no potential, no freedom…..just the limitations you’ve accepted as your own, because someone thought you limited by such things, and yet you agreed that they were right when you claimed the name….but only the name as they shaped and imagined it to be.

So who is Robin? What power do you see in that name? Don’t reach out and seize it the moment someone sets it forth in front of you, assuming that is all it can be, the highest it can ever take you. Never claim a name if you haven’t first looked at it as you first see it...and then imagined it bigger, and then imagined it deeper, and then imagined it greater...and then kept going until you can’t imagine any more. And only then will you know what that name is…..when you say this name is who I truly want to be.

Robin is a bird, yes, Robin Red-Breast, a creature of spring, of the air, of new life. You can claim that and make it yours but first…..what else could Robin be?

Can not Robin just as easily be Robin Hood or Robin Goodfellow? Couldn’t you be? And why even be just one, when you can be all three?

No man is ever just one thing, and any man who thinks that he is has more dreaming to do. 

So be Robin, in as much as you imagine Robin to be. Be the bird that flies, or the champion of the poor, or the merry trickster whom even kings fear. Or be all of them in one….there’s power enough for all of that in just that one little name….so long as you put it there first.

Its that simple, and its that tricky. There is no in between. You are whatever you claim as you - but the good and the bad, for better and for worse. The space that name holds and the walls that hold it in.

So if you remember nothing more, Dickie, Richard, Robin times three or however many more Robins you might be…..if someday you say I taught you nothing else, there’s nothing else I gave you or left for you to take with you wherever you go, hear me now, and remember this:

No matter how well you might think it suits you at first, the name you claim because it fits you as you are....will never be more than a trap.

The power in names, the true power…..only comes from claiming the name that fits the you, that you would dream yourself to be.

You can always be more than you are. And any name that tells you otherwise is not truly anything but a lie.

Many kings of the earth have laughed as they introduced your family as Kings of the Sky throughout the years. But the jest they don’t get is for all their riches, they were the ones content to claim titles and deeds that leave them trapped on the ground, confined within borders of their own makings, sealed behind walls they chose to erect between them and everything that was not theirs and thus would never be. But a King of the Sky soars above all of that, needing none of that…..because the sky has no end, and is so much vaster than any of that could ever be.

So if you would someday choose a crown, my little Prince of the Sky, never seek yours on the ground. Reach for one bigger than the ground could ever hold….only that could ever fit all that you might someday be.”

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part 17 of ??)

Hello everyone! Thank you all for being so patient! I had pretty bad writers block and couldn’t figure out where I wanted the story to go from the last chapter. I was also dealing with some irl problems as well. It seems like a lot of creators were having the same problems though January and February though. Hopefully March will make everything smooth out! I think I figured out where to go from here (I have the end all planned out, but getting there without ruining the pacing is what’s been giving me problems). I appreciate everyone’s patience while I figured things out, and hopefully I can get back on a normalized schedule!

Anywho, if you’re new to this story and would like to start at the beginning, here’s the link to part 1. Every chapter should have a link to the next part at the end, so hopefully you decide to read it all :D

Tags <3 : @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @mammonismyfirstman (I’m not great about putting this on every chapter, but if you want to be added to the tags list, just comment below asking to be added (I don’t want to assume everyone commenting wants a tag so just make sure to mention tag in the comment) or you can send me a DM :) Also, I just went through all the chapters so far and I think I have everyone. If I missed you just remind me and I’ll put you in!)

Word Count: 2566

TW: some angst relating to last chapter but that’s about it

Satan sat in his room, contemplating whether telling Mc about Michael was a good idea or not. It’d been a couple days since she’d come over and he hadn’t heard anything from her. It was worrying him more than he wanted to admit, but he knew from spending a lot of time with her as a human, it would be a better idea for him to leave her alone until she was ready to talk to him. From the way she speaks about him, it’s pretty clear their relationship is a bit strained. Actually, it reminds me a bit of me and Lucifer, though with obvious differences. 

While the Avatar of Wrath would never admit it aloud, he did have a kind of respect for Lucifer. It took a different form than anyone else’s mostly because he knew him. All of him. Flaws, strengths, weaknesses, secrets. Well, at least up until his birth. He’d had no idea about Lilith and what Lucifer had done. Lucifer had definitely changed a lot since the Fall, but Satan could generally figure out what he was thinking or how he was going to respond to a situation. So, what was going on with Mc and Michael?

Obviously he didn’t want her talking with him at least. There was probably some fear she’d fall, taking the path of her ancestor but for a being in the Devildom. He couldn’t see any war resulting from her Falling. It would be from her own choice, with no forbidden fruit or humans involved. He was pretty sure Michael didn’t feel anything romantic for her, so it probably wasn’t anything involved in wanting her to stay for him. So why?

He was pulled from his thoughts by his DDD ringing. Hoping it was Mc, he answered by the second ring, “Hello?”

“Congratulations! You’ve won an-” Satan growled and hung up. Stupid solicitor.

There was a knock at his door, “Yo Satan. I got somethin’ for ya’,” Satan sighed, but got up to answer the door. Pulling it open, he saw Mammon and Mc on the other side, “Said she wanted ta talk ta ya. It sounded urgent so…” Mammon smiled a bit apologetically.

“That’s quite alright. Mc, hello. How lovely to see you. Do you want to come in?”

“I’d appreciate that. Thank you,” Mc entered his room as Satan shot daggers through his eyes at Mammon.

“A little warning next time would be nice.”

“Oi! If ya hadn’t been so… gloomy lately maybe I wouldn’t have been so worried- No, ya should just be grateful to the Great Mammon. I’m not an errand boy ya know,” and with that, Mammon stalked off down the hallway.

Satan rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything back. He understood Mammon was just trying to help him, “Well, it’s nice to see you Mc. How… Are you okay?” Mc was turning slowly, looking at his room in awe. He would’ve just figured she was simply impressed by his room like she had been the other first time she’d seen it, but she looked rattled.

“Oh! I was just… Umm… Your collection is really impressive,” she deflected his question, smiling. The unease remained in her eyes though.

“Yes. This is my personal collection,” Satan answered, leaving his question unanswered.

“It’s quite… impressive,” as she turned, Satan caught her frown again. Does she not like how messy it is?

“Though they’re not all on shelves, I make sure they’re all kept in good shape. I honestly just don’t have enough wall space or bookshelves for them all.”

“Oh… I understand. I tend to get book piles too,” Mc answered, a bit caught off guard. 

So it’s not the mess. What could it be?

“So, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you. I just haven’t heard from you for a couple days.”

“I’m sorry about that and just showing up out of the blue like this. I had a lot to think about after… last time, and some things to research. Then inspiration randomly struck for my next art show. Not to mention, Michael’s been keeping a close eye on me ever since he blew up. I wanted to see you, and I didn’t even think to message you first. I’m sorry about that.”

Satan was at a loss for words. She wanted to come see me. She wanted to see me so much, she just showed up. I should really say something to her right now, but I’m not sure what to say.

“You’re not angry with me, are you?” Mc turned back to him, looking worried.

“Of course not. I was afraid you were possibly upset with me, and Lucifer I suppose, for what we told you. I know hearing something like that must be hard.”

Mc smiled, “Well, that’s good to know. As to what you told me… I do trust you guys. More so than I trust most of the other angels in fact… But you are demons and what you told me was… Anyway, I was researching what you told me to see if I could corroborate your story and I did find a couple different mentions of Lilith, one of which told of a connection between her and the fruit. I couldn’t prove or disprove the claims that he… That he was the one that shot her, but with how defensive he immediately got after I mentioned seven angels falling instead of six… I… I can’t bring myself to believe he’d do something that terrible yet, but I do believe you guys on everything else, and… it’s not beyond the realm of possibility. In any case, the Celestial Realm definitely covered up much of the war, including its causes. I had a suspicion when I originally learned about it, but figured it was all just in my head,” Mc looked Satan straight in the eyes, “I want to thank you for being honest with me.”

“How are you so sure we didn’t lie to you? Like you said, we are demons.”

“Call it a hunch,” Mc smiled, “Anyway, I really appreciate it, and I wanted you to have this,” she handed him a very lifelike drawing, “I thought you might like cats, so I frew my favorite one from the Celestial Realm.”

Satan couldn’t believe his eyes, “Leo?”

“Huh?”

“That’s Leo. I… half adopted him a while ago.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, he’s got hearts all over him right? The one on his forehead and chest are the most prominent, but there’s a couple more on his back and stomach right? Hold on. I have a couple photos here,” and Satan went rustling through a drawer. It was hard to find a photo of him without Mc, but he knew there were some. Leo was a cat that he and Mc had adopted together. She’d used all her charm and reasoning skills to get Lucifer to agree to allowing a cat in the house. She had promised him it would only be the one cat, though they secretly were planning on getting another once Leo passed. They unfortunately didn’t get the chance to see that happen, as Mc passed away before Leo did. Lucifer had allowed Satan to keep the cat as a way to cope with Mc’s death. He listened to me! I told him to go find his Mom once he left me, and he did! I’m so happy!

He finally found a good picture to show Mc, “See? Same cat.”

“Oh my! You’re right! That’s incredible!”

“So, you said he was your favorite?”

“Yeah. Because of how transient most cats are, they don’t spend long in the Celestial Realm. He may not spend a lot of time with me, but I do see him around a lot, and he has comforted me before. A lot of the other angels think he was a pet of mine from my human life, and that's why he sticks around.”

“Well, who wouldn’t want to stay with you?”

Mc looked up at Satan, “You really think that?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You didn’t even know me then. What if I was boring or really dumb in the human realm?”

Satan slapped himself internally for not being more careful, “I highly doubt you were either of those two things. I know when people come down here, they don’t lose any of their personality.”

“Really?”

“Yup. It makes the whole process of breaking them so much more entertaining,” seeing Mc’s worried expression, he cleared his throat and moved on, “With that line of thinking, angels would be the same way. Your placement was just decided by how good you were in life.”

“What if I was a Wanderer though?”

Satan sucked in a breath at that. She had been a Wanderer? There was a chance she could have ended up here with him?

“There’s a lot of theories on why someone might Wander. None of them are conclusive though. I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I were you.”

“Satan?”

“Yes?”

“When the time comes, will you answer my questions?” Mc didn’t look at Satan, but he had the feeling this was an extremely important question.

“Of course I will.”

Satan watched some tension leave Mc’s body, as she turned to him and smiled sincerely, “Thank you.”

“Well, of course. That’s assuming I can answer them.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be able to,” she answered cryptically.

“Very well then. Since you’re here, would you like to stay and read? Or we can go somewhere if you’d like,” she turned to him, and he couldn’t help the words that fell from his lips, “I just want to spend some time with you.”

Mc looked a bit shocked, but then she smiled softly, “I’d really like that.”

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

They decided on reading, but not before they went downstairs to grab some snacks. As predicted, Beel was there as well.

“Hey Mc,” Beel grinned, his feast not yet begun.

“Hi Beelze… Actually, is it alright if I call you Beel?”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Beel cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“It’s just… I don’t know you very well, so I didn’t know if it was alright. Plus, they always refer to you as Beelzebub in the Celestial Realm.”

“Wait… Do they talk about us up in the Celestial Realm?”

“Not a lot, but when speaking about our history they do talk about you all, especially Lucifer.”

“What do they say about me?” Beel had grabbed his wrist.

“Yeah, what do they say about us? I wanna know,” Belphie’s head popped out from underneath the table, making Mc yelp a little and grabbed onto Satan’s arm. His hand automatically covered hers, a reflex from when she had been a human.

“Oh yeah. Belphie’s here too,” Beel added happily, watching the angel and his brother.

Belphie smirked, eyes on their arms, “So, what do they say about us?”

“You give me a near heart attack and then carry on like nothing happened?” Mc asked, a bit embarrassed.

“Your fault for not looking,” Belphie grunted, looking at Satan who was nearly frozen in place, his eyes focused on the point of contact, “You woke me up so maybe you should be apologizing to me.”

“Belphie, don’t be mean. You were hiding weren’t you?” Beel asked.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point. And how long are you going to keep clinging to my brother like that? I know he’s stronger than me, but I’m not going to hurt you.”

Mc looked to see she was still grabbing Satan’s arm, “Eep! S-Sorry! I didn’t realize,” she removed herself and took a step away, face burning.

“That’s quite alright Mc,” Satan managed to get out.

“So, what’d you guys come down here for?” Beel asked, frowning a bit at Belphie.

“Ah, right. Snacks. We came down for snacks,” Mc said quickly, face still flushed.

“I can help with that,” Beel said, “Come over here Mc and I’ll help you pick food out.” By the time their snacks were decided, both Mc and Satan had to carry them up to his room.

“We have way too many snacks,” Satan observed, “I’ll still have some in my room a month from now.”

“Awww, come on you guys! I went down to resupply early to avoid Beel taking everything, but it was really you two I needed to watch out for?”

“He was already there when we went down. He sent us back with all this,” Satan answered, not really wanting to deal with Levi at the moment. The twins had already taken up enough valuable reading time as it was.

“Of course he would. He never thinks about me when he cleans out the fridge. It’s not like it’s easy for me to just leave the house to go get something, but no one ever thinks about me. It’s probably because I’m a-”

“Oh, do you want these then?” Mc cut him off, extending her full arms.

“Wha…? You’re giving these to me?”

“Sure. Why not?” Mc smiled at him.

Levi’s eyes went wide and his lower lip quivered a bit, “You’re so kind. You’re truly an angel now.”

“Because I wasn’t before?” Mc chuckled.

Levi’s eyes got even wider and he looked down, “W-Well, I-I… Just… Thank you for the food. I think I need to go back to my room now!”

“Oh, sure. Here you go,” the snacks were handed off, Levi only dropping 3 in his haste, and then he was walking as quickly as he could down the hallway towards his room.

“That was weird,” Mc commented, watching him hurry down the hallway.

“He’s weird,” Satan sighed, extremely grumpy that Levi not only interrupted them but then said something so thoughtless, “Don’t worry about him.”

“Sure,” Mc replied, though he was sure she was still wondering about it.

“Let’s just get to my room before we’re interrupted by anyone else.”

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

Satan closed his book and stretched, enjoying the increase in blood flow throughout his body, “How are you enjoying- Oh,” Mc, who he had given the bed to, the place she had read before they would read cuddled together, was asleep. She was breathing deeply, book still clutched in her hand.

Chuckling, Satan padded over to the bed, and pulled a blanket over her. Coincidentally, it was one she had given him. She had been convinced it was the best blanket for reading ever. He had put a perseverance spell on it so it never got worn past where it was comfortable. Now that he had it for a long time, he found himself agreeing with her.

He allowed himself a moment to admire her sleeping form, the muntins in his window throwing a line across her face. She adjusted in her sleep, pulling the blanket closer. She smiled sleepily, murmuring something that almost sounded like his name. She truly is just as beautiful as before she left that last time. The last time I ever saw her alive…

His hand caressed her jaw line before he knew what he was doing, “I’ll never lose you again. For as long as you’ll allow me in your life, I’ll be here. I promise you that,” he whispered, leaning down and lightly pressing his lips to her forehead.

She stirred at the contact, eyes opening sleepily and focusing on him, “Mnh, Satan?”

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

As always, likes, comments and reblogs are always welcome! Until next time!

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Strep

You go to visit your brother, Tom, in the states, but you get sick and beg him not to tell your parents.

-

          “Are you sure you feel well enough to go?” Your dad asked you as you shakily made your way over to where your bags were sitting. You were about go visit your oldest brother, Tom, for the whole of summer break, but the past day you hadn’t been feeling well. You were sure it was the bad Indian food you’d had the night before, but you weren’t letting anything stop you. It had been four months since you’d seen him and he’d surprised you with a ticket without even asking your parents first. There was no way you were going to give it up.

           “Yes, Dad, I’ll be fine,” you said, “it’s probably just the food from last night.” He sighed.

           “Alright, then, load the car up.” You loaded your suitcases, bags, and backpack into the car for your dad to take you to the airport, only for a second barging into your only younger brother’s room to make him tell you goodbye. The others were gone on some weekend trip, so you’d said goodbye to them two days before and they’d tried to convince you that your plane was going to crash over the ocean, so it was better that you didn’t see them again.

           You said goodbye to your mom and your dad started driving you, letting you out at the closest terminal to yours. It wasn’t the first time you’d flown, you were basically an expert at it, even though it was the first time you’d actually been alone. Usually you had one of the boys with you if not your parents, so you were watching things a little more than usual. But you printed your boarding pass, checked your luggage in, went through security, got some food, and FaceTimed Tom.

           “Are you almost on?” He asked when he saw you’d already downed most of the tea you’d gotten.

           “Yeah, we board in a few minutes. It says I get in at nine tonight.”

           “Alright. I’ll be there, then, I’ll park and meet you at the baggage. Fly safe. I love you.”

           “I love you too.” His face disappeared when you shut your phone off. You didn’t hate flying, but you hated taking off, and turned your music up as loud as it would go. Thankfully your flight got in so late that it was pretty empty and you could pick a seat of your own. You made sure not to look at the map, since it only freaked you out that you were going over the ocean for such a long time, and you bought WiFi to watch a few movies.

           You started to feel sick again, but you were going through a storm and you were getting tossed all over the place, so that was probably it. You just opened the blanket you brought, noticing how cold the air on the plane had gotten, and reclined your seat as much as you could to sleep a little. And you were out for most of the rest of the flight – you let yourself look at the map when you felt the plane going down and realized you were about to land in Atlanta.

           “There she is!” You heard Tom’s familiar voice and tugged out your headphones, walking over to him and hugging him tightly. “How’s my favorite sister?”

           “Tired,” you responded honestly. He laughed.

           “Well, we’ll get your bags, I want to take you to get food, and then you can get settled in.” You nodded, looking at the screen that told you your flight was next for baggage. It would still be a few minutes, though, so you let yourself catch up with Tom and throw away all of your trash. You finally got your bags and he led you out to where he’d made Harrison keep the car waiting.

           “It’s about time!” Harrison called out, getting out of the car to help with your bags. He attacked you with a hug first and then playfully pushed you back away. “Hungry?”

           “Please,” you responded with a laugh as you got in the back seat. Tom shut the trunk of the car and let it settle before getting back in the front. “I missed you guys. I missed American soil.” Tom laughed as Harrison tried to pull away from the curb before the airport police would get pissed off at him.

           “How was flying by yourself?” Tom asked, looking behind you. You heard the GPS say something about a restaurant.

           “Not bad. Definitely easier than with Paddy and the twins.” He grinned.

           “Anything is better than flying with them. They have to go to the bathroom every ten minutes, all three of them.” Tom adjusted the hat on his head and turned back, letting you watch as Harrison drove through downtown. There wasn’t any traffic and they pulled into some drive-thru, ordering a shit ton of food, and passed it back for you to hold.

           “How much food do you get here?”

           “Are you surprised?” Tom asked as he handed you the third Styrofoam box. You rolled your eyes and tried not to gag. You didn’t know why, because the food smelled good, and you were starving because all you’d had was half a bag of goldfish you got from the airport so they were stale.

           You ate with the boys, more than you thought you would, showered off the airport smell, and went to bed. Tom didn’t have to go film for another three weeks, so you had some quality time with him for a few days. You’d decided to go to Six Flags the next day since it wouldn’t be as crowded on a weekday, so you woke up only a few hours after going to sleep. You felt drained, but a cup of coffee fixed it. You’d never had issues adjusting to new time zones, but this one had thrown you for a bit of a loop.

           “You good?” Tom asked you as you plopped down on the bar stool, head on your elbow.

           “Yeah, just tired,” you responded. He looked you up and down, sighing.

           “Are you sure you want to go?”

           “Dad asked me the same thing. I’m fine, Tommy.” Your nickname for him always made him smile and now was no different. He gave you some of his breakfast and the two of you ate while you waited for Harrison, and then you all headed out to go to the park.

           “It’s so hot,” you complained later as the Atlanta sun beat down on you. Tom could tell you were a little overheated, but he took the bag you were wearing from you and exchanged it with the giant water he got. Your throat was sore, it had been since you woke up, but you didn’t think much of it. You never did. Your body could just hate the fact that you were halfway around the world. You tried not to think about it as you and the boys wandered around the park for most of the day, but it got progressively worse until you could feel a clicking in your throat whenever you swallowed. But you were probably fine, so you ignored it.

           “I’m taking a nap!” Harrison called that night as you finally got back to the car. All three of you were sunburned and exhausted, especially because you’d consumed so many sugary snacks that by the time you got back to the car all of the sugar had left you crashing. You tried not to fall asleep, and Tom made sure to hit a curb on your side to wake you up.

           “Come on,” he said, shoving you after he pulled into the driveway to the house he was renting. You woke up and got out of the car, taking off your makeup and going to bed as soon as you could.

           You woke up the next morning feeling ten times worse than the night before. Your throat felt like it was on fire, but you could barely fucking swallow when you tried to drink some water. You looked over at Tom, who was still asleep. The house only had two bedrooms and Tom wasn’t about to make you sleep on the couch but he wasn’t going to either, so unless he decided to bring a real girl over you were sleeping in his bed as far away from him as you could. Your entire body ached and the last thing you wanted to do was go back to sleep, so you did.

           “Wake up!” About two hours later, at ten AM, you felt Tom pushing you back onto your side of the bed.

           “What?” You asked in a hoarse voice.

           “You sound like a smoker,” he responded.

           “I feel awful.”

           “Come on, I’ll make you something to drink,” he encouraged, pulling the covers off the both of you. You followed him anyway, and as soon as you started walking to the kitchen your head started throbbing. But you sat down at the kitchen counter and he started to make you some of your favorite tea. You wondered why he kept it around if you weren’t there – he always said he hated sweet teas, but your favorite was peach.

           “Thanks,” you said a few minutes later as he was handing it to you in a Spider-Man mug. He’d made sure not to make the water too hot so you wouldn’t die drinking it. It felt good coating your throat, but as soon as it left, you felt awful again.

           “I don’t have a thermometer,” he said as he walked over to you, putting his palm to your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

           “I feel like shit,” you complained. “I need a shower.”

           “Go take one. We can just relax today, okay?” You nodded and went to go take another shower. Your clothes were sticking to your skin from sweating, and you felt so bad that you changed the sheets on the bed. You came back out and Tom had ordered food, but the idea made you sick to your stomach.

           “Come get a waffle before I destroy them all,” a tired Harrison said as he was about to pour syrup all over the box full of waffles.

           “I’m good,” you said, taking a spot in the corner of the couch between the boys. You drank a second round of tea, but it wasn’t helping much. You could see your mom’s contact name on Tom’s phone and snatched it away from him.

           “I’m just going to call her and tell her you’re sick!”

           “And then she’ll come here or she’ll make me come home! I’m fine, Tommy, please?” You didn’t give him his phone back until he agreed not to tell your mom, and when he said he wouldn’t say anything you gave it back to him.

           “Your germs are all over it!” He said, wiping it off on his t-shirt. “If you’re not better by this afternoon, I’m taking you to an urgent care.”

           “Fine,” you agreed, “just don’t tell Mom. I’m fine.”

           “You’re lying, but okay.” He let it go, though, and even though Harrison went to run some errands the two of you stayed on the couch. You laid on opposite ends of the couch, your feet touching, like you were known to do at home. Even though you were right in the middle, you were Tom’s favorite and it was no secret. You and Paddy were roped into being together most of the time, so when you got to spend time with Tom you were always excited because he was Spider-Man, he was the coolest older brother ever, and you were always so excited to see what he was doing and hang out with him.

           “Feeling any better?” He asked you, poking your leg that was wedged between his and the couch a few hours later. You shook your head. He’d all but babied you for most of the day, and for the last few hours you’d been sleeping through episodes of New Girl.

           “No,” you replied. Tom sighed and sat up, so you did the same. You knew what he was going to say and you didn’t want to hear it.

           “Then I’m gonna call some place to take you, okay?”

           “No,” you begged him. “I’ll be fine.”

           “You’re sick and I don’t know how to help you. We’re taking you as soon as Harrison gets back. Go get some clothes on.” You did as he told you to do, not wanting to take the chance of your parents finding out, and pulled on some clothes. Harrison was back soon and handed the car keys off to Tom, who called an urgent care.

           You found out an hour later after about a million swab tests that you had strep. You groaned, looking over at Tom, and he just rubbed your back as they told you they were giving you some steroids. The nurse left you and you just looked at Tom. You were never sick, ever, and you had never even had to get tested for anything.

           “You’re fine,” Tom said with a sigh. “And you’re expensive. You do realize I don’t have insurance in this country?”

           “I’m sorry.” He just laughed at you.

           “I’m kidding. I don’t, but… It’s fine. I’m just glad I can take care of you. I’ll be outside.” You nodded and he pat your back again before taking his wallet out. The nurse gave you some steroids and let you go, but not before warning you that you were still contagious for a full day.

           “I’ll get you some ice cream if you’ll sit here for a few minutes,” Tom offered as he pulled into the Target parking lot. You nodded and he handed you a phone charger, leaving the car on for you while he went inside. He was back in a few minutes with your favorite ice cream, Americone Dream, and some other snacks that wouldn’t irritate your throat too much.

           You got back and got some of the ice cream out – you’d told Tom you would sleep on the couch, it was fine, and he’d tried to make it as comfortable for you as he could. He even bought you another expansion pack for the Sims without you even asking. It somehow got out in the family group chat, the one without your parents, that you were sick. Paddy and Harry were absolutely awful to you about it, but Sam, ever the sweet one, sent you a few private messages and carried on a few games of 8 Ball in iMessage because he felt bad for you.

           “I am officially not contagious anymore!” You said the next afternoon after the boys came in from where they’d been out by the pool. “So you can come within six feet of me.”

           “As if!” Harrison said, laughing a little bit. You loved him, but man he was mean sometimes.

           “Oh, fuck off!” Tom said, pushing him up the stairs to the bedrooms. Tom came back a little bit later to make some snacks and actually sat down beside you. “You look a lot better.”

           “I don’t feel a lot better,” you admitted. “I can’t sleep and my throat hurts and all I can keep down is tea and ice cream.” He sighed and threw an arm around you.

           “Come here.” He hugged you tightly and you hugged him back. You didn’t know how long you were there for, but you were almost asleep by the time that your parents called.

           “Oh, no,” you groaned.

           “Just stay quiet, I got it,” he responded. You leaned your face into his arm, shutting your eyes. “Hey, Dad!” Tom said loudly.

           “Hey, how are the two of you? Do anything fun yet?”

           “We’re good!” You said. Your throat felt scratchy and you hoped he couldn’t hear it, and Tom sighed before going on.

           “We went to Six Flags yesterday and it was super cool, today we just stayed inside mostly. Y/n got me on some new ice cream and it’s really nice,” he said. Usually he liked to walk around when he was on the phone, but now he was just staying with you.

           “That’s lovely,” your mother said. “The boys miss you, Y/n.”

           “Oh, no they don’t,” you replied, rolling your eyes. Even though all of you got along, you still had to pretend you didn’t. Just for street credit. Tom put his finger to his lips, shaking his head at you to shut up. So you did.

           “We’re actually about to go out, there’s a bar here that does quizzes and we were gonna go to the Disney one. So we’ll talk to you later?” All of you said goodbye and he hung up, putting the phone down on the coffee table.

           “Are you leaving?” You asked him. He laughed.

           “Don’t look so concerned. I’m not leaving you just because you have strep throat,” he promised. He put his arm back around you and kept playing his video game, letting you sleep a little bit before making fun of you some more for sleeping on him.

           A/N: I hope this was fluffy enough for you! As much as I love Tom and would love to cuff him for myself, I feel like he’s a great brother too! 

Taglist (if you’d like to be on it send me a message/ask!): @an-adventureland, @firstangeldragonranch, @ssebstann, @winterreader-nowwriter

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Misery is the Drug in Your Veins 1

Dead Dove Mob/Yakuza AU

Hanzo has a problem threatening Shimada-gumi’s working relationship with Reaper’s organization: the altercation between his shit-for-brains men and Reaper’s kid’s bodyguard that ended with blood spilled. It’s his responsibility to smooth things over and offer an appropriate apology.

Over two years earlier, working deep undercover in Reyes’ family, Jack finds himself with his cover blown and his very life a balancing act on a tightrope.

Warnings: Serious Dead Dove, ncs, dubious/coerced consent, ncs drug use, violence (like people buried alive at night in woods in future or mentions of necklacing), abuse, objectification, ptsd, cptsd, fawning, no-one is objectively good, etc - also Hanzo & Genji being bros.

*

He should have taken the coat, not just the scarf, Jack thinks, observing the falling snowflakes, big and fluffy. Probably the first snow, too, all poetic and shit. He just needed some space to breathe and clear his mind, if only for a moment - hitching a ride with Amelie and Jesse on their morning trip to the shore seemed like a good idea then, not so much now.

To his left, Amelie speaks into her phone in angry spitfire French. Jack sighs and closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the wooden post. Should've taken the coat, he's too fucking cold. Cold enough to shiver.

"Will you die?" Jesse asks and Jack cracks one eye open. He can hear the sirens getting closer - he also feels the blood seeping through the fingers of the hands he keeps pressed to his side - and he's so fucking cold.

"I don't know," Jack answers sincerely, "but Gabe's gonna be angry with me, for sure..."

Jesse nods solemnly and puts his own hands on his - Christ, he's what, seven? The kid's seven, Jack needs to remind himself, and asking him if he's going to die now, and no child should do that ever, but he's just tired and fucking freezing.

It doesn't even hurt anymore and the sirens are getting away.

*

 The car ride through the early winter landscape takes over an hour. The serpentine road leading up the mountain mansion is cleared of snow - and at this point, observing the scenery passing by the window, Hanzo is considering making a damn PowerPoint presentation. If it will save him from this kind of headache in the future, it will be worth it. Maybe he will even delegate the task to Genji. Speaking of whom, as the car turns around and rolls to a stop in front of the mansion, Genji is the first out with a cigarette in his hand.

Hanzo waits for Daichi to open his door.

The air is chilly but not enough for the snow to linger for more than a few days unless the temperature drops further. Hanzo would spend a moment to appreciate it under any other circumstances.

The angry European woman, underdressed for the weather, leans on the banister of the balcony and glares death at them. Another variable Hanzo’s unfamiliar with.

"Get back in the car."

Genji waves his cigarette.

"I just light..."

"The car, now."

Genji swears in a protest but complies. Good. Hanzo needed him to only show his face around, anyway, so it’s known he’s taking the situation with all the seriousness expected.

The woman above raises her chin and turns away from the banister, disappearing from his sight. He's expecting to meet her inside.

Hanzo walks past the first car, nodding to his people as he passes them. The hall is hot, and Hanzo entertains for a moment the notion Americans have absolutely no moderation in anything. He lets Daichi take his coat and leaves him behind in the vestibule, following one of the two guards deeper into the house. Up the stairs, the mercenary lets him into the day room connected to the balcony. Through the glass doors, he can see it's far more spacious than it appears from the outside.

The woman from earlier sits in a wicker chair, drinking something warm from a cup. The kid, dressed more appropriately in a sweater and a cap, plays with toy cars on the floor, pausing once in a while to talk at her - by the movement of the steam above the rim of the cup he can follow her answers.

Hanzo sits down on the couch.

When he was much younger, he believed in all the tall tales of honor, whole-heartedly even, before he had realized it was just a pretty word for bruised egos and petty vendettas of the vain. And as such, the vulgar display of power before him is merely that.

"Shimada," Reaper raises his glass minutely without offering. The whore, half-sitting on the floor with face leaning on his thigh, bound and gagged - thankfully covered with a thrown on yukata - either pretends not to notice the audience or is completely out of it. Hanzo fixates for a moment on a darker patch on Reaper's trousers, obviously wet with drool and gods know what else. He's even marginally curious if the whore's going to be one of those he has to arrange for a discrete cleanup after, one of the obligations of the agreement negotiated by his father, both the supply and the subsequent removal.

"I've become aware of an... incident involving some of my men. I want to extend my sincere apologies and assure you they will be disciplined appropriately."

"Will they?" Reaper sips his drink.

They certainly are already very sorry, is what Hanzo would want to say, since your minder sent all three of them running, and two, in the aftermath, to the urgent care. He settles for the appropriate prostration.

"I will personally ensure a situation like this won’t repeat."

"My property was put at risk."

The negotiation stage, at last. If such a thing ever came to be, Hanzo dearly hoped he himself would never refer to his own child, or their mother, as his property, though he harbors no such futile delusions where his own future is concerned.

"We will offer the customary tribute."

"I demand the full retribution."

"It was a grave mistake but it would be a far too drastic action to undertake."

"I don't think you understand the severity of the situation, Shimada," Reaper smiles and inclines forward, setting the glass between them on the table while his other hand pets the whore's hair. He leans back against the couch, pulling at the gripped between his fingers hair, forcing the whore to straighten frantically to follow his movement. One of those gags, Hanzo notes in the back of his mind, watching the man's throat as he seizes and tries to fight for his breath with his changing position. The cloth slips off his frame, revealing the stitches on his left side and the reddened flesh underneath.

It's the distinctive scars that make Hanzo realize he had read the situation wrong, right from the very start.  Whatever Reaper sees in his face is enough for him to let go of the man's hair and allow him to fall back against his thigh with a small sound of distress.

Hanzo was never in a position to negotiate.

"I'll arrange for the place and the time."

"See that you do, Shimada."

Halfway down the mountain, Genji finally asks.

"So, what's it gonna be? Fingers?" Hanzo holds his hand out to him and Genji, sighing, gives him his flask. "What, their balls and dicks?"

When Hanzo drinks more before passing the flask back to him, Genji grimaces.

"They just pestered the chick and knifed the hired muscle, that's a bit much."

"Only he wasn't a hired muscle."

"What, some family?"

Hanzo looks out of the window.

"Genji, do you remember, when the old man sent us to pick up the kid from the airport?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"The junkie."

Standing outside of the terminal with the kid in his arms and a backpack, with a duffel bag full of money on the ground. Obviously lost and confused, suffering from withdrawal if one knew what to look for, and ready to bolt if anyone as much as tried to approach him - with months-old scars slashed across his face, and another one along the left side of his head, barely hidden under the hair.

And he would run if Hanzo didn't have the foresight to instruct his men to surround him; even made a panicked move before a strange resignation took him over and he quietly followed them to the car - not letting go of the kid even as he tore into the packet Hanzo provided him with and swallowed the pills dry, high as a kite already when they finally arrived at their destination and made the exchange, staying long enough to see him and the kid escorted to the mansion.

"Yeah, what about that one?" Genji flippantly takes a swig from the flask.

"It was him, and he's his woman."

"Shit." Genji meets his eyes, then continues in an unfamiliar display of sympathy. "I'll get everything ready, you just pass the word."

"Thank you." And Hanzo means it.

 *

 It's not the first time that Hanzo considers Genji would be a much better fit for the position, if not for his rambunctiousness, and some other quirks seen as weaknesses and not the strengths they were. Nevertheless, it was far more likely it would be Genji providing the heir, either by design or by accident, Hanzo idly thinks by the way of distraction from his current task, which is delivering a signed death warrant on his own men. They were foolish and young, their deaths superfluous, and yet...

The Chinese were good partners if one traded in lives - and Shimada-gumi partook in it - but drugs and firepower were a whole different matter altogether. The triads were unwilling to part with the total control, so if the man who provided the connections and his network wanted a blood tribute, he got the damn blood tribute. Too bad he never got to know what the old man paid for the deal they've inherited, but merely seeing him squirm over it was sure worth the price.

Hanzo sits on the couch just as the maid – Filipino, if he were to guess - finishes pouring the tea into what appears to be his designated cup out of the four on the table. The host is absent, as is the angry European woman; he can put the time it affords him to some use.

The indirect source of his headache is half-lying, half-sitting on the cushions on the floor. The kid, working on a picture, is sitting between the table and his legs. Hanzo observes for a moment, trying to look past the preconceptions and circumstances skewing his perception. The man is relaxed and definitely under the influence, be it painkillers or something else altogether, and except for the initial glance, he ignores Hanzo completely, staring off into space. Hardly frail, in a physical sense of the world. His physique is maintained. A wide bruise that wasn’t there before is circling his neck.

"I don't believe we were introduced," Hanzo clears his throat, extending his hand over the table. "Shimada Hanzo."

The man flicks his eyes at Hanzo's palm before returning to looking at an unspecified point in the air.

"...Jack."

But his lips were forming a different sound at the beginning before Jack apparently caught himself.

"I see," Hanzo puts his hand back on his thigh. "Can I ask you something, Jack?"

Jack shrugs noncommittally, with the accompaniment of subtle clinking.

"Thank you." Hanzo spares a glance to the kid busy adding copious amounts of red crayon to the picture. "This might be an inappropriate discussion for a child."

Jack shrugs again - there's the metallic sound once more - and answers without looking.

"I shot his mother in front of him."

That's... definitely, one way of saying it doesn't matter what's discussed. Hanzo purses his lips, mulling over how to proceed, when the kid puts the crayon back on the table and looks at him.

"Mom killed dad and wanted to kill Jack," the kid smiles and grabs the black crayon this time. Jack at first just stares at the boy, then Hanzo feels his surprised attention on himself as if, somehow, Jack had consciously noticed him only now, biting his lip in what could be apprehension or anxiety. Intriguing, how his focus wavers immediately, prompting Hanzo to continue with caution, to sustain it.

"Can you tell me, Jack, how you got the scars on your face?"

Jack mulls the question over.

"Glass. It was... a window, and the bomb went off..." His voice trails off. Fair enough. The cuts must've been clean and deep, missing both of his eyes by a close margin.

"Jack." The man's wandering gaze snaps back to Hanzo at hearing his name, again. "And the burn on your neck?"

"...gun." Jack doesn't elaborate on it. Hanzo keeps the momentum up and does not push for the information that is not provided freely.

"The scars on the chest, Jack?" As soon as Jack parses the question, the additional nervousness builds up in his shoulders. The metallic clinking is back. He answers with a barely perceptible stutter.

"...Afghanistan."

Either military or mercenary, might be both. Running convoys, possibly; maybe this is the connection Hanzo's looking for to sate his personal curiosity, but the further line of questioning is best saved for later.

"Jack," Hanzo calls the man's wandering attention back to himself, again. "And the scar on the left side of your head, Jack?"

Jack freezes for a moment before both of his hands fly up to cover his hair there - handcuffed and used to it, judging by the flawless coordination - the reddened skin around the wrists has an oily wet shine to it.

"No, it's not visible, Jack," Hanzo finds himself trying to placate him with his open palms showing and reaching over the table. The unexpected manner of an animal gulping air and ready to lash out reminds him of all the times he had to talk Genji down from whatever bad high he'd been on. "I've seen it before. Before. There's nothing to see now, Jack. Nothing."

The change is gradual. Jack's expression settles back into an impassive mask as his hands slowly return to their previous position. Hanzo lets the matter rest, sparing a glance at the kid unperturbed by the incident and happy to be left alone working on his picture.

"I failed to blow my brains out," Jack delivers in a flat voice bereft of any inflection. There's something disturbingly familiar in his words and eyes Hanzo cannot pin down, not now at least, but the impression of the fact that he had seen it somewhere before remains. Puzzle pieces to be assembled together later - if he finds enough of the missing parts to create the image or at least the idea of the image.

"That's all that I wanted to ask, Jack," Hanzo focuses on the cup he reaches for, still feeling the uncomfortable stare of blue eyes bore into him.

Over time, he grew accustomed to the western idea of what tea is - made with much too hot water and too many leaves - and marinated. The one in the cup has a lovely red coloring and smells deeply of tannin. The taste is tart and bitter, with a smidge of sweet fermentation. From the corner of his eye, Hanzo can still see Jack observing him with unnerving intensity. He tries to remain unbothered by it while sipping his tea, idly noting it would be acceptable as a sweetened drink when watered down.

The uncomfortable moment lasts until Jack shifts his whole posture, best described as a scramble to prop himself up on his hands - the reason obvious when the host enters Hanzo's field of vision - the whole of it a ridiculous approximation of a pet reacting to its beloved owner.

As ridiculous as Hanzo's own refusal to refer to the man as 'Reaper' in the confines of his own mind, but the fact some of his people took to calling him 'Shinigami' is even more preposterous, and he will take no part in this absurd game unless otherwise required. And, even being in a position of a supplicant - again - he will not vie for the attention that at the same time he is owed as a guest. The whole situation leaves Hanzo with a substantial quandary to navigate while he goes through the mental list of all the interdependencies. Not for the first time, he's more than curious what the old man had offered his current host in the introductory package - but definitely not the mansion itself. Hanzo had discreetly investigated all the details of the acquisition of the property and nothing came up, except for the fact that it had been allowed to be bought out by a foreigner. If he were to hazard a cautious guess, it almost looked like a cozy retirement plan.

Hanzo sips on his tea, watching the interaction before him play out: at the same time put off and fascinated by it. Jack strains, the corner of his lips Hanzo can see from his vantage point twitches. The position he put himself in must be forcing pressure on the stitches that punches through whatever pain medication - or anything else - he's on. The host takes ahold of his jaw - definitely not a gentle grip but probably not bruising - and pulls him up even higher, enough that Jack now has to brace his palms on the table to keep balance and minimize the strain on his side. Hanzo has the unsettling notion he's being privy to something far too intimate to be displayed during what is basically a business meeting. While he does understand the difference in the sensibilities, this is too much, with how Jack keeps his eyes trained on the man. As soon as the so-far hidden from the view pipette is raised, he opens his mouth obediently.

Hanzo counts three drops, a pause, and then the fourth one like an afterthought. Free from the grip, Jack remains at attention until the host pats his cheek in dismissal. At this, he eases off slowly, sinking down until he rests his forearms on the edge of the table and reaches for his teacup, downing it in a fashion that makes it clear he's trying to get rid of a displeasing taste in his mouth. All things aside, on its own, it is an impressive maneuver to be pulled off while being impaired both by the cuffs and the sustained injury, not to mention the medication. Hanzo makes a note of it, moving Jack up several rungs in his personal risk assessment. He's dangerous, maybe on par with the angry woman, who, at the moment, seems to be absent from the meeting.

"Don't worry about your little earlier chat, Shimada."

Ah. Hanzo had been caught snooping for information, not that he really counted on it to go unnoticed. The question, how much his host, now sitting in front of him, cares about this perceived invasion of privacy.

"He won't remember it."

Apparently, not as much as Hanzo would expect, but another possibility opens: a warning that Jack won't recognize him as an ally down the line. He might be overthinking it. Probably is, and, feeling the warning bells of borderline paranoia, Hanzo glances at Jack now reclining back on the pillows with his eyes half-closed.

The kid remains unbothered by it all, focused fully on his artwork.

"I understand," Hanzo begins, reaching into his front pocket for a card he places face down on the table - keeping his fingers on the laminated paper. "Regarding our previous discussion..." He slides the card towards the host. "I hope the time and the place are acceptable."

The man observes him with the most irritating smirk on his face, barely noticeable but definitely there. It's his frayed nerves, Hanzo decides when the host finally leans forward and he pulls his hand away from the piece of paper, straightening his posture. Only, the man picks up his cup.

"I'm sure there will be no scheduling conflicts for this event."

'Event'. Hanzo will murder his own people in cold blood. Idiots of mythological proportions, true, but still his people. Business oiled with blood, like any other. The loud clack of a crayon put down with force on the table startles him - Hanzo hopes his face doesn't show it. The kid gets up and steps over Jack's legs, going for the cupboards on the other side of the room.

"Did you finish your classes?" The host asks, not breaking the eye contact.

"In the morning," the kid answers as he retrieves what looks to be a handheld game from the drawer before making his way back to the table.

"Okay then." The host smiles, almost fondly. Nodding at that. "Children," he adds as a means of the explanation that's unneeded. "Now, where were we?"

"I believe this was all, unless..." The man sets the cup back - untouched - and rises from the couch. Hanzo mimics him, struck by the sheer rudeness of it: another garish display of the imbalance between them and their respective organizations. At least, until there's a hand extended towards him over the table. He takes it. The grip is firm and does not ease, making it uncomfortable as silent seconds pass.

"Gabriel. I'm looking forward to our continued partnership."

They'd never been formally introduced before. Hanzo feels the balance shift imperceptibly with the name slotting into the appropriate spaces in his mind.

"Hanzo."

"See that it doesn't end too soon," Gabriel releases his hand with finality. Hanzo nods, feeling like he has just, how the western saying goes, sold his soul to the devil.

"I will definitely keep it under consideration."

"Good."

Gabriel sits back down and Hanzo more than feels it's his cue to leave. He turns, with one last glance to the kid: he has managed to place himself between Jack's arms, with his back leaning against the man's chest. If not for the cuffs around the wrists laying across his lap, it would appear as nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it wasn't, really, with how the kid was now engrossed in his game like everything was in perfect order.

Hanzo spends the ride back ruminating on the meeting.

The puzzle pieces do not want to fit together - he gets two or three to connect but not more - different bits of information suspended in the void of unknowns. When Daichi opens his door, one memory strikes him randomly. Hanzo sends him away with the wave of his hand.

Still sitting in the car, he takes one cigarette out of the case and lights it.

Hanzo doesn't smoke. It's rather a sympathetic nervous habit he had picked up from Genji: holding a burning cigarette between his fingers and the disagreeable smell help him focus and calm. He has been right. He knew the expression, or rather the lack of it, that Jack wore on his face when asked about the scar. He had seen it before, had heard the same flat voice, all from some of the used merchandise, the ones that were broken in, or just simply broken.

 *

 Two and a half years ago.

He wakes slowly, with pain lacing through his body at every minute motion. Tries to sort his memories out, what was real and what has never happened.

The room is oddly familiar. The slid shut curtains remind him of something disturbing.

It's probably morning.

Over the hum in his head, he can hear someone moving downstairs.

He works the courage up to shift and sit - then stand on unsteady legs - his tongue feels swollen and sticks to the roof of his mouth. It makes sense for it to be morning, somehow.

The first door he tries is the bathroom. The light comes on by itself - he barely registers moving before he's gripping the sink with both hands and drinks straight from the tap. When he finally looks up, there's a baggie stuck with yellow tape to the mirror's surface.

He rips it off and stills, staring. His reflection is a sorry sight - but it's not right - the bruises and scrapes are healing, his lips are scabbed. It's days, not hours. Tentatively, he reaches to his cheek and winces at the sharp pain.

But it's not right, not when his wrists are rubbed raw fresh and stinging - and there's nothing in the air but the smell of gasoline - and if Gabriel comes any closer, his hair will catch on fire too...

He flinches away from the mirror and the specter lurking in the reflection. But Gabriel is still standing in the doorway. Blocking his way out.

He knows.

Gabriel knows.

The fragments of the last few - two? three? - days come together into a mismatched tapestry of metal, gunpowder, and gasoline. He tastes blood and breathes in the sand. The edge of the sink digs into his back as Gabriel steps closer and crowds his space, hand reaching to his palm and freeing the still-gripped in it plastic bag.

With his fingers, Gabriel forces the pills past his lips; a drop of blood trickles down his chin from an open again split lip.

But he's only interested in finding what hides behind those eyes that observe him with the knowing superiority: what’s the verdict?

One phone call, he needs but one call, and 'Jack' will be wiped from existence, and he will be safe and away from all this.

Away and safe to lick his wounds. He’s good at that.

"Swallow." The command comes with a pressure to his jaw and a palm covering his mouth - he does. "Good doggie. Wash up, change, and come downstairs. Dinner's ready soon."

Gabriel lets go of him and leaves.

'Jack' needs to die.

He spares the last long look for his own reflection and wipes the blood off his face with one of the pristine towels hanging by the side. He throws it to the ground.

Hot water in the shower stings and hurts, but his lips and fingertips tingle with numbness. The steam makes it hard to breathe; the towel still comes away tinged pink with a few darker spots scattered around, stark in the contrast to the glaring white. There's still some grime under his nails he can't get to; he's not sure he cares, not now.

Opiates, this time, with something extra mixed in, he realizes when he overshoots with his hand at first try while reaching for the change of clothes lying on the bed. The loose sweatpants and the long-sleeved shirt, both in spruce - is spruce even a color? - hang off his frame. It's... a first. He remembers losing some weight, but this is ridiculous, as is the thought they're probably a set of pajamas. He chuckles and covers his mouth immediately, surprised at the sound.

He needs time and a place to lick his wounds and process before he crashes. He needs time away from 'Jack'.

He knows his way around the house as well as he knows someone outside will put a bullet in the back of his head if he runs.

He needs 'Jack' to die.

He steps barefooted off the carpeted stairs onto chill parquet.

On the chest of drawers by the wall lie his keys, gun, wallet, and the phone - the screen is cracked but as long as the other sim card is in it should dial the right number and 'Jack' will die either way. He almost picks up the phone and the gun but thinks better of it.

He's got a straight line to the outside. Baby steps. Just be quiet. He recognizes the jacket hanging on the coat rack, it's his own - looks back to the gun.

The sound of metal hitting on glass is too loud, almost like it's supposed to catch his attention.

"Oh, you're up! Just in time, too." Chipper and pleasantly surprised. He blinks and winces at the voice, turning to his right. She's there, in shades of pink, holding some spatula or some other implement. "Sit down, I'm just finishing up," Angela continues with a smile.

She can't not know. There's no fucking way she doesn't know at least that one thing. She shouldn't be smiling at him.

"...I don't want... to intrude."

"Don't be silly, Jack, I'm happy to have you. I tried something new tonight. I hope you like lamb in mint and black beans."

The table is set for four people. Jesse sits in his chair, elbows propped next to his plate, his cup of juice half-emptied already. Gabriel's not here. He can't decide if that's good or not.

Cautiously, he walks to the closest chair and sits with his back to the corridor.

Closest to the exit.

Angela busies herself with the pots. Jesse observes him with the fervent disinterest only children are capable of. He tries to smile; Jesse's not impressed and kicks the table.

"You must be hungry." It's bad. He had missed her moving.

Angela puts the meat on his plate first. It smells sweet. He is hungry - he must be hungry with how his breathing speeds up and shallows - or maybe he has just noticed it? She comes back with the beans; they're really, honestly, just black in black, and he laughs and chokes on it.

He wipes his lips with his wrist, barely noticing the blood.

The hand on his shoulder is not hers even if she's back again by his side, closer than before. Fingers move to his throat, a thumb rubs hard circles into the back of his head. She sees it, doesn't she? She has to.

"You'll be eating with us more often, won't you?" Angela coos, leaning in. She pets his hair and kisses his cheek. "You're family, after all. Well," she straightens and claps her hands. "Everybody, dig in. Dinner's served."

The hand on his neck lets go with one last shove - and only then he feels he's able to take a shallow breath. He focuses on the plate; the fork held between his fingers wavers. The beans glisten and he's pretty sure they are not moving, even if he would swear they do. He pierces one with the fork and brings it to his lips; somehow, it tastes numb. He almost recoils at the sudden pain when his tongue presses it against the roof of his mouth - and after a short pause, he moves the bite to the side of his mouth before swallowing.

That's... he remembers. That has happened.

He keeps his head low, forcing himself not to look anywhere but his plate, carefully gathering what is probably meat on the fork that hits the glass with too much force more than once.

He blinks.

The meat is on the fork.

The light is different.

The sickly sweet smell brings up bile in his throat. He lets go of the fork. The sound it makes when it falls is louder than a gunshot. He almost trips to the side together with the chair when scrambling to stand up, one hand pressed to his mouth.

"I need a smoke." Stained and high-pitched. It's not his voice.

He backs into the corridor until there's a wall behind him he can lean on. His breath comes in short wheezing gusts through the gaps between his fingers.

Little late to start panicking.

"Take the jacket. It's cold."

He turns to the left. The jacket.

He vaguely remembers he had a pack of cigarettes in there, one he only started on. He slides along the wall and tries - fumbles at it the first time; it feels too heavy - to pry the jacket off the hanger – stumbles to the door - forgets for a second it opens outward and pulls first.

The chill in the air hits him as he steps out to the porch. It's dark out. Shivering, he manages to slip the jacket on his shoulders and pats the pockets before he finds the cigarettes.

There are two SUVs with tinted windows parked in the front. He knows there are people in them.

He can't run.

The first cigarette is broken - he lets it fall next to his bare feet. The next, too. The third, too; he breaks off the dangling part and puts it between his lips.

He lights it off the offered light, noticing only after the fact Slim is standing next to him. And Slim is not slim, it's hilarious.

He drags on the cigarette. The smoke feels like nothing and burns the roof of his mouth, but quells nausea. Vertigo comes as he closes his eyes; a hand under his elbow keeps him stable for that fleeting moment.

His mind is clearer. Somehow.

He should be dead. He isn't. His cover is blown, and he has nothing. He's compromised. He throws the butt to the ground and takes out another cigarette. Slim lights that one for him, too.

Maybe, just maybe, he can go.

Walk past the parked cars with no one stopping him. Hitch a ride to the nearest gas station. Make a call and wait for someone to come and pick him up. With nothing of substance to show for the months spent.

Pathetic.

Run away with his life.

But...

No one else but him got this close. It almost feels like he's... being allowed to stay. Like they know - Gabriel knows - it isn't about him. The game's far bigger.

He can do it. 'Jack' can stay for a while longer.

He can do it. He still needs to make the call.

Jack takes the last drag on the broken cigarette and then tosses it away. He's still shivering. The hand leaves his elbow; Slim is still not slim, it's still hilarious, and Jack bites back a chuckle that sounds wrong even to his own ears.

"How's...?" Slim asks, almost like a concern.

Jack shrugs. Feeling the gaps in the wood with his soles, he takes a small step forward and breathes in the air.

He can stay a while longer. Jack is here to stay.

He turns around and sizes the door leading back into the lion's den. The click of the lock has a finality to it.

The only light in the corridor pours in from the kitchen. The familiar vertigo is back. Foot after foot, slow and careful, the thrum of blood rising in his ears, Jack makes his way to his phone left haphazardly in the open.

"What are you doing?"

He freezes with his fingertips trembling just above the cracked screen. Gabriel is behind him.

"I... need to make a call."

"You can do that tomorrow." Jack flinches when a clip of notes lands next to his palm. He flinches again when the jacket slips off his shoulders and falls to the floor. "You'll need a new phone, anyway."

"I really..."

The hand on his wrist pushes his arm down; Jack offers no resistance, his breath catching in his throat.

"Good doggie."

Fingers move over his shoulder and then knuckles brush against the hair on the nape of his neck. The touch follows the bumps of his spine - stops just below the shoulder blades with commanding pressure. He climbs the first step of the staircase. His grip on the handrail spasms. It was stupid, to expect the lion to lie meek in its own den.

Jack doesn't fight the hand at his back - doesn't fight it even as it pushes him later down under and keeps him at the bottom of the bathtub. In the morning, Angela fuses over him with the concealer. When she's satisfied with her handiwork, she drags him to stand in front of the mirror.

"See? It's all better now."

[ivyglow]

Every breaking wave - Anthony Beauvillier NYI

Author note: Hope you guys like it! Also, a huge thank you to Naty ( @tsarinablogs​) for prooreading this piece. <3 

Word count: 2.2k (I got carried away lol)

Request/prompt:  #3 with Tito, soft/angst please 😘

Warnings: mention of death of a loved one and cursing. 

#3 “I’ll go home, but it’s not home unless you’re there...”

It was the middle of a calculus class when her phone started vibrating inside her purse. Y/n ignored it at first, she had just texted her boyfriend and everyone knew better than to call her during classes, but they had this thing that two calls would mean it was urgent. So when the phone went on again she startled in her seat, navigating through her things until finally reaching the cellphone.

It was not that hard to leave the room unnoticed since everyone was pretty much engaged in an argument about some questions the professor had introduced that morning. She made her way to the bathroom and finally took a look at her phone, seeing that the two missed calls were from her mom.

She froze for a few seconds.

It was the middle of the night in her home country. Why would her mother call her this late?!

Praying that the call was not that serious, she clicked on her phone to unlock it, but then it started vibrating again.

“Hey, mom,” y/n greeted, feeling a little warm just because she was being able to talk to her mother. It was not easy to leave her parents, her friends, her whole life behind in France and fly to attend college in New York, a matter of fact it was lonely at the beginning, but y/n was a sweet person and she knew how to captivate people around her. “How’s it going there? Is everything ok?” she asked.

The breath her mom let out made the line crack, but worse than that was the silence that followed right after.

Something was wrong and now she was sure. She just couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Maman,” she whispered like the action would soothe things, “parle-moi s’il the plaît.” (talk to me, please)

“You need to come home,” her mother’s voice was strangled like she was holding back something...like she was holding back sobs.

Y/n didn’t have to be a genius to imagine what was probably happening. The fact was, she did not want to believe what came into her mind first. Not that many things would make her mother call her during class, tell her to drop things in college and fly back to France. Usually, her parents were the ones who came to see her in New York.

“Maman, why do I have to fly back home?”

Normally, when you ask someone a question you expect an answer, but y/n didn’t. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t even want to think about it. And her mom’s silence told it all.

“I want to talk to my papa, please give him the phone,” she whispered like it was the last amount of air inside of her body because it felt like it.

“Je suis désolé, chérie” (I’m sorry, darling) and now her mom was finally crying, an almost silent cry, but y/n could hear it anyway. And that, that was what her mom was holding back since her first words in the call, she was holding back tears. “I didn’t want to give you this notice through the phone, but...there was no other way.”

“Maman, please tell me I'm wrong, tell me you’re trying to tell me something completely different.”

Y/n’s hands were cold, the phone pressing to her ear felt hot and so did the tears that were making their way down along her cheeks.

“He’s gone, baby.”

And that’s all it took for her to finally break into sobs, not silent tears, not cold hands, but loud and painful sobs.

She didn’t even care with someone walking in, all y/n could think about was her father. He would not be there to hug her at the airport, to teach her about French art or to talk about deep subjects.

“Baby, go home with some friend, please don’t stay alone, don’t...”

“I...I got to go, mom...,” she breaks the sobs trying to get back to her normal breath, but failing. “I need to...let the truth sink in,” and possibly let my heart break, too, she thought.

“I’ll call you later, take care, okay? I love you and so did he.”

He did. Not longer does, because he isn’t here anymore. She whispers an answer to her mom and tries to wash her face and look a little less desperate, but well, it’s almost impossible not to look devastated when the person you love the most has just died.

Y/n walked back to class only to take her bag. Anne, one of her friends, sent her a look full of worry, but y/n just ignored it, leaving as fast as she arrived.

Her sense of direction was gone as she struggled to find the way out of the building. She didn’t want to go back home, she didn’t want to get into a cab like in the state that she was in. Hell, she probably wouldn’t be able to get money out of her purse and opening it meant looking at her ID, seeing his name written on it, seeing his last name beside hers, it meant to remember that he would become just a name.

Y/n started walking in the busy NY streets, trying to get to one of her comfort places in the city which didn’t involve calling someone. And the more she could hear her footsteps, the more the reality begun to sink in.

It felt like it took her heart with it and now she was walking in it, crushing every connection of the so-called muscle.

He would not be at her graduation or call her to ask if Tito was being the gentleman he promised he would be when they first met. Everything she had planned to do with him in the future was now gone.

When y/n finally settled down in one of the many parks in New York she fell into the grass resting her back at a beautiful three. It wasn’t even a bad day, the sun was shining timidly in the sky, some birds were flying around and the smell of nature in that piece of space was comforting, yet it felt like the most frightful.

The time went by while her mind seemed to stop. Y/n never in her entire life felt this kind of pain, not even when she went skate with Anthony, fell and broke her ankle.  

When the sun started to set she finally took notice of the time. Tito was supposed to pick her up just like he drove her to school that morning. It was their routine, him leaving for the rink almost the same time, so she always got a ride, and the same went for when he was returning home. He usually knew that if she didn’t call him, she would probably be at the library, otherwise she would text him telling that she’s in the coffee shop nearby. They always come and go together – it was something that was supposed to strengthen their bond since the chaotic life of hockey and college didn’t do much to help.

He is probably freaking out, she thought, as she opens her messages and only sends him her location. He would know, he would come, he always understood.

And y/n was right, it only took him 15min to get there. Probably he was already around the area looking for her. The only thing she was capable of was hugging him, spending her last bit of energy by bringing him close.

“Ça va, bébé” (it’s ok, babe) he whispers, tangling his fingers into her soft curly hair. It broke his heart to see how devastated she was. When she tried to speak, no words came out and he stroke her hair soothingly.

Anthony already knew, being good friends whit her parents. Always having them in his house when they came to NY had its perks. Her mother called him telling she was worried and he should take care of her like never before, so he cried for her dad in the afternoon while trying to reach her. Anthony and her dad had been friends and it was not news that he was expecting to receive so soon.  

“I’m here, I’m here…,” he reassured her while taking her purse and helping her stand. Her jeans were stained by grass and sand. Once they got to the car, he buckled her up and gave her a bottle of water.

Y/n spent the whole ride to their apartment in silence while Anthony held her hand. The city became a blur.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” she whispered as they were making their way inside the apartment.

“Babe, we’re here for each other remember? You did nothing wrong,” Tito hugged her. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You know he was so proud of you, huh? He still is, wherever he is.”

“Why couldn’t he just be proud of me from here?! Ce n’est pas juste.” (it’s not fair)

She almost could hear her mother saying, “life it’s not fair at all, sweetie”.

The player shrugged while walking her to the kitchen, sitting her down at the counter.

“You know... I believe everyone on earth has a mission and once they’re done with this mission, it’s time to go,” he spoke calmly while she tried to focus her attention on his words. “That’s how it works for everyone, no exception. I see it as a reason to why some people survive to accidents, even when it seems impossible to do so. Their mission wasn’t done yet,” Tito explained while looking deep into her eyes.

It was comforting, having him to look at her with those big bright eyes. They had never shared these things before, it was nice to hear him say it.   “You’re going to miss him so much, but some of the things he has done will never ever leave your heart,” he assured.

She bit her lips while looking at her shoes. “I’m afraid I’m going forget what he looks like, what he sounds like... I’m sad my kids won’t be able to hug him in the future as I once did,” y/n finally confesses. It sounded silly in her head, but Tito had this thing... he could make people around him feel like their questions and problems were never too stupid.

“You will always remember what it felt like to hug him him, how his skin was your favourite pillow as a baby... you may never be able to turn it into words, but deep down I know you will never ever forget him. We don’t forget the ones we love,” he whispered the last part. “And it’s a shame our children won’t be able to hug him, but we’re going to tell them about him, they’re going to know what a great grandfather they would have had though he’s not here with us anymore.”

Y/n took a deep breath, making grabby hands at her boyfriend. He always knew the right words to say. He knew how to reach deep inside her soul. And at that moment she knew that, for sure, she would never ever forget Beau.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, babe” Tito tightens his grip, “always.”

He let go of her, only to start making dinner for them. Once he was done, they headed to the bathroom and he took his time washing her hair and quietly talking, while trying to make her feel as loved as possible. She changed into her favourite hoodie of his and they ate dinner in the living room while some cartoon was on in the background.

She took some time doing nothing at all and then decided to start packing. She needed to buy tickets, tell her mom the flight time and so many more things...

“You know…,” she started while putting some clothes at the suitcase, “I’ll go home, but it’s not home unless you’re there…” Beau smiled brightly even though there’s a hint of sadness from all the events of the day.

“I’m going to need your help to pack, too,” he said, “I already booked our tickets, the flight leaves in the morning.” “Wait...you’re going?” she straighted up dropping some blouses in the process. “But you have practice and…” “I talked to the coach before I left” he explained and she raised a brow, curiously. “your mom called me.”

“You don’t have to, you know?” she kept her eyes at her nails. “But I want you to come, if you can.” “I’ll be with you for three days, then I got to head back and I’m going to train during the weekend, so I can cover the days I missed,” Tito grinned lightly. “But hey, it’s home, there’s always something good in being home again.” “Thank you so much” she whispered, trying not to cry anymore. She had already shed too many tears for the day but the simple act of kindness and love from him warmed her heart.

“You’re one of my missions,” he stood up from the bed going for a hug, “to love you, to care for you. I’ll always be here.”

“You’re my home and I don’t ever want move on,” she whispers before leaving a pec on his lips.

Everything was a blur and one of the most beautiful cities felt horrible, but his hugs, his words, his love are still the same. She could still feel loved and safe. She was at home after all.

[purplesurveys]

1193

Have you ever been cheated on?  Nope.

Whose car were you last in?  Other than my own? Hans’s, but that was over two months ago. 

Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced?  How timely is this, Andi literally randomly asked me how I feel about septum piercings this afternoon haha. Anyway, I have no problem with it on other people but I personally wouldn’t pick my nose as a spot for piercings.

Have your parents ever smoked pot?  I don’t know, they may have but there’s a big chance they haven’t. They don’t really share much about their youth so I would never know.

Do you tend to make relationships complicated?  That’s definitely not me.

Are you good at giving directions?  Not at all; if anyone asks me directly I usually immediately refer them to whoever I’m with at the time. Or I tell them to check Waze.

Would your mom care if she found condoms in your room?  She would and she’d definitely be pissed about it. Not that I have to worry about this ever happening, though.

Did you speak to your father today?  Yessssssss, I literally just caught a glimpse of him like two minutes ago.

Did you kiss someone before you were sixteen?  No, I was 16 turning 17 when I had my first.

Could you go a day without eating?  Yeah, but I wouldn’t feel well by the end of it. I’ve formed a habit of skipping breakfast and lunch on weekdays now, and I always feel like complete shit once I clock out. Considering I only eat dinner these days, I guess I can say I do regularly go entire days without eating.

Are your nails always painted? I never paint them/have them painted.

Have you ever met any bands/band members before?  Just local ones.

What color is your hair?  Black.

Your best friend needed somewhere to stay, could they live with you? Yes.

Have you danced in the rain?  Maybe? I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like something I would do, though.

When you said something naughty when you were little, did your parents wash out your tongue with soap?  Nope. I never liked getting in trouble, even as a kid, so I stayed out of it.

What do you think of spanking little children when they do something wrong? Okay or not?  That’s a common practice where I live, at least it was during my time. My mom didn’t believe in spanking her kids, which I’ll always be thankful for; but the cousins I lived with didn’t have the same fate so I regularly had to watch them get spanked - with sticks, slippers, belts, etc basically anything that was within reach. I think today’s generation of parents are different; I hope they are.

Who was the last male you hung out with?  Gab, Kyelle, Al, and Hans.

Who is your favorite person to text?  I don’t text anymore, but I do chat with Angela on Messenger everyday.

Who did you last take a picture with?  Does an online photo count? We had an event held through Zoom last Wednesday and we had a photo op by the end of it.

What’s your favorite brand of jeans? I don’t have any. I just wear whichever pair I’d feel good and confident wearing.

Which show is better: Spongebob or The Fairly Odd Parents?  Nooooooooo you’re making me pick between my two absolute favorites. I might have to go with Spongebob, but it barely barely barely won. Fairly OddParents is great too, at least until they added the baby fairy.

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like someone else?  Many times. Idk if I’m happy about it because something tells me it just means I have quite the common face. Idk. I don’t think too much about it and as long as I’m compared to someone I personally find pretty, it’s fine lol.

Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning?  Not so much. I find them too loud, especially the crickets.

Who is the most overrated singer?  Taylor Swift.

What is your favourite planet?  I don’t have one, but let’s go with Saturn.

Do you have any pets that you had since you were born?  Wow no. 23 years is a very long time.

Do you own anything that you had when you were a baby?  Yep, my mom kept all our umbilical cord stumps. It’s in our baby albums.

Do you enjoy Mario games?  Very much so. It’s the only franchise I can play HAHAHA

What’s your favorite online game?  I don’t play online games.

Have you ever been hit with a ball in gym class?  I probably have been.

Do you ever turn your cell phone off?  I used to sometimes shut it off whenever I’d fight with my ex and I didn’t want to deal with the world for a while. Now with the toxicity out of my life I never turn it off lol.

Who was last to cook for you?  My mom made pasta for dinner tonight. Then after that I asked her to make me coffee mixed with Milo.

Do you check your texts right away when you receive them?  Depends on who texts. I get anxious when it’s media texting, so I tend to ignore those for a few hours unless they ask something urgent. If it’s someone from my inner circle, like a friend or one of my parents, I would check and reply immediately, or at least as soon as I see the text.

Who is your most trusted person?  Mmm, probably Angela. I literally reached out last night to ask her to log on to my Facebook so she can unfriend Gab and her family on my behalf. I don’t think I would’ve asked that from anyone else.

How late did you stay up last night?  A little earlier than my usual, around midnight or so. I knew my load was going to be packed today since my manager had filed a leave which meant I had to cover for her tasks as well, so I wanted to get enough rest so that I didn’t wake up sleepy and cranky.

When/where are you most likely to sing?  As long as I’m alone, I’ll sing. I like to do it, just not in front of other people.

Would you ever wish to explore a cave?  That would be soooooooo nice. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a cave. :(

You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do?  I imagine giving her an awkward smile and probably being the first to approach. Then I would ask how she’s been. I’m in a place in my life where I’m sure I’ll be able to do that.

Have you been/are you depressed?  I’ve been there many times.

Are your pop-ups blocked on your computer? Yes.

Have you ever ridden in a car with someone who was high?  No. I would hate to be in that situation.

Who is the best hugger you know?  Laurice.

Have you ever had to be put to sleep for an operation?  Nopes.

Does anybody have any proof of stupid things you have done?  I know Angela has a few. Gabie took a few as well; whether she still has them or not I’m not updated on anymore, nor do I care.

Why did you text the last person in your inbox?  I was just reminding Angela there was a BTS video coming out tonight.

Have you ever been able to do a split?  No but I’ve attemped to do it many times.

Did you ever date the last person you kissed?  Yes.

Are you intimidated by the last person you know talked badly about you?  I never keep track of things like that. I know it would bring nothing but unnecessary stress, so I never snoop or ask around to check if anyone’s been talking not-so-nicely about me behind my back.

Have you ever cried in school?  Maybe only about once or twice in the 18 years I was in school. I absolutely hate crying in front of people, and I mainly do it when I’m alone. I don’t think I’ve even ever cried in front of Angela; that’s how much I hate it.

Last person of the opposite sex you screamed at?  I don’t remember ever screaming at a guy.

Do you have any weird sleep habits?  I...wouldn’t know, since I’m asleep when I do them. I always sleep alone too, so no one would be able to tell me how I sleep. All I know is I’m not much of a mover and I usually wake up in the same position (or almost the same position) I fell asleep in.

Do you consider yourself an emotional person?  Yes, I’m sensitive in every sense of the word.

When was the last time you had a headache?  Last Wednesday when not eating for the entire day finally hit me like a truck by the end of my shift. :/

When was the last time you encountered a puppy? Cooper circa September.

Is there anything that happened a long time ago that you still laugh about?  Yes, many instances.

Do you ever try to interpret your dreams?  No, I don’t think anything of them beyond “just weird scenarios of people I know doing weird things.”

What was the last thing you bought impulsively?  Three orders of sushi, 24 pieces in total.

How do you feel about singing songs out loud in front of other people? No amount of money would make me do it.

When was the last time you were feeling really, really nervous?  This afternoon when a supplier we’re currently working with asked to call. Normally my manager would be the one mainly in touch with people like them, but since she was out today I was next in line.

If you’re no longer in school, what is something you miss about it? If you’re still in school, what’s something you think you’re going to miss about it? I miss seeing my friends everyday and being able to hang out after our classes, even if it just means sitting at a table doing nothing together.

Do you use your turn signals when you’re driving?  Excessively. I use it even in the subdivision lmao, or on one-way roads.

How exactly are you feeling right now?  Content. It’s a little hot and mosquitoes keep flying around me, but I’m not letting these affect my mood. Just focusing on the fact that it’s a Friday night and I can let go of work for a couple of days.

Have you ever had to board up your windows because of a hurricane?  Never happened before. I just close up my windows completely so that they don’t slam if ever the wind gets too strong.

Do you tell anyone to chew with their mouths closed?  I don’t recall ever feeling the need to do this. The sound doesn’t bother me much anyway; definitely not as much as it annoys most people.

Have you ever ordered pizza and sent it to someone else’s house?  Yup I did that for Angela and Kata recently, for my birthday, along with truffle mac and cheese. Basically my favorite orders from Mama Lou’s, haha.

What was the first thing you drank when you woke up this morning? I believe it was water.

Do you think stretch marks from having a baby are ugly or badges of honor?  Ugh this question is so outdated I don’t even want to take the time to answer it.

Ever done a keg stand?  No.

Who is the last person you lent money to?  I don’t lend my money.

Do you share clothing with anyone?  Mmm, sometimes. It’s usually me borrowing clothes from my sister, though.

Have you ever visited anyone in a rehab?  Nope.

Was the last thing you drank a Coke or Pepsi product?  No, it was just water. I’d never be caught craving for soda.

Honestly, do you think that you’re going to be an overprotective parent? No. I experienced having strict parents, so I know it’s not something I would want to pass on to my kids. I want my kids to be able to go out with friends and attend parties and get tattoos (when they’re older) and express their identity without being scared of me.

What was the last kind of chips you ate?  Piattos cheddar chips.

What is one thing that you really wish you could understand, but don’t?  Investing and stocks.

What is the last thing you charged?  My laptop.

Have you ever held a snake?  Yes. I’m always the only one in the family willing to do things like this when we go on vacations haha.

[alexandermanes]

ghost whisperer - rnm fic

hey so here’s the ghost malex au/human au fic  wrote but didn’t post on halloween week bc i was unmotivated

hope you like it :)

ao3

Chapter One - Ghosts

“First, you need a location”, declared the man, Tom, also known as MythCatcher on Youtube

Michael nodded then furiously scribbled down in his scrawny handwriting “Location”

“Then, you need to do research- Research is a very important part of paranormal investigation. You need to fact-check myths, learn about history of the place you’re looking for poltergeists”, he informs Michael via the small screen of his phone, “Learn about the deceased’s, their name, their story”

He stops the video to write “Research” on the notebook, underneath “Location”, obviously.

“After that: planning. What kind of gear are you planning on taking? Camera? Infrared night vision goggles? An Ouija board to facilitate communication? What kind of questions will you ask, with or without the board? What time are you going? What time are you going to visiting the haunting site? What are the alleged time of the apparition’s sighting?”

Those are too many points, Michael observes and writes “Planning” as a third bullet point in his “How to ghost hunt” list. Tom (MythCatcher) doesn’t appreciate the term “ghost hunter”, he thinks it’s demeaning since people don’t take ghosts seriously. The paranormal, though, that they fear and believe in. Idiot, he muttered as he pressed play on the video again. He does not care about Tom’s sensitivities.

Michael isn’t delusional, he knows most paranormal investigators are as genuine as his will to admit when Max’s right, which is non-existent. But, amongst the sea of “myth catchers”, Tom is the one that makes the most sensible points, despite the fact that he earns money by making Youtube videos in his 40s and advertises for “high-end ghost hunting gear”. Needless to say, he takes Tom’s points with a grain of salt.

         “Once you have a list of equipment to take with you and a scripted way to approach the site, the hows and when, then you’re ready for the next step: Communication”, Tom states, “Now, this is a crucial step. To communicate with the paranormal, you must be respectful”

Michael isn’t sure what constitutes as being respectful amongst investigators of the paranormal but invading their space, often the site where they died in, and demanding their participation in whatever nonsensical conversation they have planned doesn’t seem like very cordial behavior.

“No mocking, no inviting dangerous entities to that space, address them by name and be polite. Also you must be protected, always be straightforward about the kind of entity you allow to be in your vicinity. If there’s any funny business going on, send it away immediately. Bring your salt with you. ParanormalActivityStore has a ten percent discount if you use my code for a personalized-“, he is interrupted by Michael closing the app

“That’s enough dead brain cells for a single afternoon”, he reminds himself., after that he scribbles “Communication” as a final bullet point in his list.

Michael Sanders isn’t sure when his obsession with ghosts started, although he doesn’t appreciate his interest and curiosity being labeled and an obsession, thank you very much, despite what everyone else has voiced in the past; that’s why he keeps it to himself these days. No, in fact, he actually knows when this journey began, he can pinpoint it.

See, Michael is a man of rational thinking and little faith, a man of science and not religion which is why he believes in ghosts. Every night for a year he sees his mom, not in dreams, and with no previous history of mental illness, not in delusions. Every night religiously for a year his mom has visited him. When it started he believed himself to be dreaming but that wasn’t the case. She never says much, kneels by his bedside, cradles his face with one hand, caresses his cheek and smiles at him, teary-eyed and whispers. “Manes Residence”, those words haunt him but with a foreign intent. Though it’s a balm to his soul seeing his mother smile at him even when her eyes are so woeful, even proffering such ominous words.

It is a mystery to him as to why, ten years after her death, a brain aneurysm that took her unexpectedly from his arms, she began to visit him during the night and why she whispers those words. He has exhausted every method he’s ever heard of: Ouija boards, calling out to her, lucid dreaming, leaving candles and objects for her to communicate through, he even considered hiring a psychic but that somehow seemed too extreme. He tried praying and still prays at any given time during the day but that doesn’t seem to have been successful. At first he assumed he wasn’t doing it correctly, but then again, at the ripe age of eleven years old, in one of the foster homes he inhabited lived a family of religious fanatics, so he doubts he’s doing prayers incorrectly. Especially when hesitating or stuttering during prayers resulted in punishment. This situation is a big enigma to him and it pesters him on a daily basis. He needs answers. If this was any ordinary mystery he wouldn’t have bothered this much but he has bone-deep certainty that this, whatever it is, is very important.  So keeps trying to contact his mom. He tries unrelentingly.

-

Until one day. He makes his way to the Crashdown, Isobel and Max by his side. After a long day of school (he was thankful it was his senior year), they all decided they needed a well-deserved milkshake with a side portion of french-fries. As they entered the diner and the small bell rang overhead, they noticed an unusual amount of patrons for a Thursday afternoon. Oh, well, he thought. They sauntered towards the counter and waited in line, a single person in front of them, a truly serendipitous event. In the indistinct chatter he picks up two words: Manes Residence.

“Sorry?”, he says loudly, turning towards the person who emitted them

Rosa Ortecho asses him with an unimpressed, and frankly disgusted, expression and continues talking to Liz, disregarding him as if he were a vexing fly.

“So anyways. Lydia told me that now the house is haunted. Sargent Psycho took off with hs ten kids or whatever to nowhere land during the nightly hours. Not a soul saw them ever again”, she points out, “dude murdered his wife after she tried to leave him, buried her than grabbed his five sons and fucked off”

“It’s just a rumor, Rosa!”, Liz replied, laughing purely out of amusement and disbelief

“So this Manes House”, Michael chimed in, “where is it?”

“Michael, stop barging in in people’s conversation”, Max reprehended him, an honest to God blush creeping in

“I’m sorry”, Michael looked from Liz to Rosa, “He isn’t usually this rude”

Michael gave him an eye-roll that screamed Fuck off, Max. Rosa just mimicked him while Liz smiled, a bright and toothy smile.

“It used to be Master-Sargent’s Jesse Manes residence, he lived there with his wife and four sons. Then one day they disappeared off of the map and the house was put up for sale. No one ever saw them since, I think, the fourth of July fair last year”, she informed him, “The house was never sold, probably because of rumors that it is haunted. I can give you the address, me and Rosa used to be best friends with one of his kids, Alex”

“Yeah, right up until the moment the left and just like poof, never called or texted”, Rosa supplied

“He probably just didn’t find the time or-“, Liz tried to explain

“For a year, Liz?”, she replied with a very irritated tone, “Either he is ignoring us, completely forgot us or is dead”

Liz gave her a good-natured eye-roll and simply told her she was being dramatic.

“Can you give me an address?”, Michael asked suddenly feeling anxious

Liz acquiesced then ripped a sheet of paper from her notepad and wrote the address.

“You’re one weird little dude”, Rosa told him, though Michael completely disregarded her

He thanked Liz and almost forgot about the shake and fries, the original reason for his appearance at the Crashdown. As they waited, Max and Isobel engaged in conversation but Michael was far too distracted to hear any of their words, instead, his mind raced, making plans about when to visit the residence. Something akin to energy traveled through his veins, similar to electricity, his heart sped-up, he felt restless and suddenly very aware of his surroundings. The movement of brown paper bags being set on the counter snapped him out of his gaze. He immediately took one, knowing they order essentially the same dish, and strode to the door.

“Michael!”, Isobel called out, drawing heads to her, “where are you going?”

“Sorry. Forgot I had something to do at- um, the junkyard. Talk later”, he immediately turned his back on his friends and exited the diner.

He scrambled for his keys inside his pocket, growing more frustrated by the second, until the skin-warm metal found his finger tips and at last, picked up his keys. He unlocked his baby blue beat-up truck and tossed his food on the passenger seat, subsequently starting the engine. He felt possessed, moving by this ominous force, an urgent feeling, but regardless of his feelings amongst other things, he was hell-bent on finding the Manes residence at that very instant.    

[miafic]

hi we are doing in-depth sexual assault discussion today and if that is not your thing, this is not your story. 

one ~ two ~ three four ~ five ~ six ~ seven

---

“Hey, baby,” Zakk greeted as he walked up to Lucas’ chair and hugged him from behind. 

Lucas turned his head to kiss him. “Hi.” 

“How did your first session go?” 

“It was good,” Lucas replied truthfully. “She’s really smart. And she’s no-nonsense, which is what I need.” 

Zakk smiled. “Awesome!” 

“Yeah. Um, I have homework,” he said, motioning to the piece of paper in front of him. 

Zakk nodded, eyebrows raised. 

“I have to make a list of all my responsibilities at Peace and Purpose and then make a list of everybody else’s responsibilities. The staff, I mean.” 

“Yeah.” 

“She had me start making it there, and when she saw how disproportionate it was, she said I need to hand some stuff off.” 

Zakk took Lucas’ face in his hands. He leaned down so that their eyes were level. “What,” he began softly, “have I been telling you for years and years? Hmm?” 

Lucas looked away, but Zakk kissed his forehead. 

“I’m glad you’re finally listening to somebody. “ 

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if anything’s gonna get moved.” 

“Can I see?” 

Lucas slid the page over a few inches. 

Zakk studied it. “Emails and paperwork you can keep,” he joked, tapping on the first two items, and Lucas chuckled tiredly. Zakk scanned the entire list and said, “Literally anything on here, I’m willing to do. Any of it.” 

“Hmm,” Lucas said shortly. 

“What can you let go of?” 

“She wants me to pick five things.” 

“Good. What can you let go of?” he repeated. 

Silence. 

Zakk pointed at the meal schedules line and suggested, “I can do this and make the grocery list since I’m already the one shopping. I can do the kitchen job lists, too; you can let me handle all the food stuff. Tell me what you want to eat and if you want any of the boys doing specific jobs, and I’ll make the lists and the schedule.” 

“What if it’s not how I want it?” Lucas asked, voice tense. 

“Then you say, ‘I want tacos on Friday night,’ and I’ll make it happen. But a lot of the time, I’ll just tell you what we’re having, and you’ll say, ‘Okay,’ and then you’ll eat it. And you won’t even have to think about it - you can just show up. You’ll be like one of the kids!” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

Lucas shook his head. “We’re not doing that.” 

“Okay, then...” He kept reading. “Why don’t you let me deal with payroll? I can handle that.”

“No, Zakk.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because. It’s really important.” 

Zakk motioned to the list. “It’s all really important. And you’re trying to do all of it at once.”

“I’m not trying to do it. I’m doing it.” 

“Please let me help. Look, driving! I can drive. I have a state-issued license and everything. It has my picture on it.” 

“No. I like driving.” 

“I know, but maybe sometimes I can have a turn. What if you take two of the kids to therapy, and I take two of the kids? Then it’s even. 50/50.” 

“No, Zakk.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I drive to appointments.” 

“But I could take it off your plate! Just because you always have doesn’t-”

“Stop arguing with me,” Lucas warned. 

“-mean that you always have to. I’m just as capable of driving as you are. And I really don’t mind sitting in a waiting room. I know you think I hate it, but I don’t care. I can entertain myself.”

“It’s not about that,” he sighed exasperatedly.  

“Then what’s it about?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Then let me do it.” 

“No!” Lucas spat, and he slammed his hand onto the counter, making Zakk jump. “You’re not taking them to appointments! I have to do that! Take whatever else you want, but not that one!” 

Zakk was looking at Lucas with wide eyes. After a moment, it registered with Lucas that it was fear on Zakk’s face. Zakk was... afraid of him? 

Without a word, Lucas got up and stalked toward the staircase. “Ruining your life, you’re ruining your life,” Lucas muttered urgently to himself. Zakk didn’t follow him, and again, he was glad. He was headed for the walk-in closet so he could shut himself inside someplace quiet and take a few minutes to calm down, but halfway between the door of the bedroom and the door of the closet, Lucas found himself sinking down to the floor. He sat there, hands pressed into the carpet, rocking slowly back and forth and trying to keep everything inside. 

“Stop it, just stop it, stop,” he whispered. “Stop, stop, it’s fine, it was a long time ago...” But the hot tears had already welled up and were threatening to spill over, and Lucas couldn’t breathe, not all the way. Everything felt awful - the tears and the desperation and the regret and the physical pressure in his chest. 

And that’s when Zakk opened the door. 

“Lucas?” he called. Then - “Oh! Oh, hey... Hey... Are you crying?” 

And then Zakk was beside him on the ground, and apologies were spilling desperately from Lucas’ mouth, and Zakk was soothing him, brushing a hand from his forehead up over the crown of his head over and over and over again. 

“I can’t give up driving them to the appointments,” Lucas managed to say, his chest tight. “It has to be me.”

“Why?” 

“Because I have to be there for them. If something happens, I have to-” He pulled in a big breath- “be there, I have to be there. It has to be me.” 

“Why?” Zakk repeated. 

The answer came in a whisper. “Because I know what it feels like.” 

Lucas hated the silence that hung in the room. Zakk probably didn’t know what to say, but neither did Lucas. 

He pulled away, crawled a few feet out of Zakk’s reach, and forced himself to keep talking. “I’m going to tell you now, okay? What I’ve been... not saying. Things will make more sense.”

Zakk moved so that he was cross-legged, and then he swallowed. “I’m ready.” 

“Okay. I’m just gonna start talking.”

Zakk nodded.

“When I was in high school, my mom changed jobs, so we changed insurance companies. And we switched doctors.” Lucas’ voice was dull, as though he were reciting something that someone else had written. “My brother and sister were adults and already out of the house, and I was fourteen, so it was just me that went. I had to get a physical in the spring to be able to go to summer football practice. I was going to be a sophomore in the fall, and I thought for some reason that since I wasn’t a freshman anymore, I was going to get a decent chunk of playing time.” 

Zakk smiled a little, and Lucas saw it out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t feel it. 

“I was really excited to get my physical so I could get going. And I was right to be, because that was the summer that I met Chance.” He paused for several seconds before continuing. “Everything at the appointment was fine, but toward the end, my doctor - who was this guy probably in his 50s - asked if I’d ever had a-” 

Lucas suddenly stopped talking. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt small.

“You’re doing great,” Zakk encouraged softly. 

Lucas nodded. “Um, he asked if I’d had a ‘genital exam,’ he called it. At my last doctor’s office, I mean. Like, he was asking if I’d had one before, and I’d gotten the paper where they tell you how to check yourself for cancer, but not anything more than that. So I kind of laughed and said no, because for some reason I thought he was kidding. And he looked surprised and said that there were some things that I needed to look at, and that they should have started doing them when I turned twelve.” 

Lucas wanted to look at Zakk, but he was too afraid. And he knew that if he stopped talking, he wouldn’t be able to start again, so he forced himself to keep going. “The way he explained it made sense,” Lucas said, his voice still emotionless but barely above a whisper, “so I let him touch me. And like I said, I was fourteen, so I got hard immediately. And he started, um.” 

Lucas’ heart was pounding. He could hear his pulse in his ears, feel it in his fingertips. 

“He started saying stuff like, ‘Excellent,’ and calling me, um... ‘nice little boy.’ And even then, I thought the ‘nice little boy’ thing was weird, but I just went along with it because I thought he was trying to make me more comfortable, I guess.” Lucas paused momentarily to deal silently with the flood of memories that were pouring back in. When he was ready, he continued. 

“He never touched himself. I think that’s another reason I believed him so much. He was very professional - wore gloves and everything and seemed like he was kind of prodding around at first, and even now, I think he actually was. But when it seemed like he’d finished with that, instead of stopping, he started jerking me off. And I reacted - I kind of sat up and looked at him like, ‘what the hell,’ you know? But he said he just needed to make sure that everything ‘worked.’” Lucas shook his head in disgust. 

“Of course, I didn’t last long at all, but he still seemed kind of happy. Pleased with me, I guess. But still very professional. After I finished, he threw his gloves away and made some notes on my chart - which I would love to read, by the way. I have no idea what he wrote. Um, but that was it. The only thing looking back that I realized was off was that he told me a couple times to stay quiet. He said it was because it was a pediatrician’s office and there were little kids around, but now...” 

Lucas fell silent. 

“Lucas, I am... so sorry,” Zakk said in a hushed tone. 

He chuckled emptily. “I’m not done. That was when I was fourteen. I stayed at that practice with that doctor until I turned eighteen.” 

“Oh, Lucas...” 

“By the end of it, I was kind of looking forward to going to my appointments, you know? Because I knew I’d be able to get off or whatever.” He scoffed. “Into a fucking tissue, just like my brother said.” Lucas blinked. “The doctor kept the tissues. I forgot...” 

“What?” Zakk asked, horror clear in his voice. 

“Yeah, he put them in little sample containers and wrote my name on them. Wow. I forgot all about that. I wonder what he did with those.” 

“Lucas,” Zakk whispered. 

He shook his head. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago. Anyway, senior year, I had to leave early one day to go see that doctor, and I told Chance during break that I was leaving. It was just me and him, and we were sitting at the football field like we always did, and I said something like, ‘I have a love/hate relationship with going to the doctor.’ And he asked why, so I said, ‘The part where they jerk you off is so good but so awkward.’ I’ll never forget the look on his face.”

Zakk let out a shaky breath. 

“He obviously knew that something was wrong, and for years, his reaction was the only solid clue I had that the discomfort I felt was justified. The doctor made so much sense when he explained it, you know? He made it feel necessary, and he re-explained it in full every time. It wasn’t until I was almost done with my undergrad degree that I figured it out. I was in a gen ed health class, and we were having a totally uncensored sex ed talk, and whoever was speaking talked about, like, what GPs do at an appointment as far as sexual health. Guys in the room were talking about their personal experiences with prostate exams and getting erections in front of nurses and stuff, and I almost raised my hand and said, ‘Well, my doctor jerked me off once or twice every year,’ but something stopped me, and I’m so glad it did.” 

Lucas looked in Zakk’s general direction. “Sometimes I think I always knew it was wrong, and sometimes I think I had no idea. Maybe it’s both.” He shrugged. “But that’s why I take the kids everywhere they need to go. I know I’m not in there with them, so I can’t see what’s happening, but I like to think that me being there gives me some control. Like maybe people who would hurt them otherwise won’t if they see me. And I hope that if something does happen, they’ll tell me, because I don’t want them to go through the confusion that I did-” 

His voice broke. Zakk immediately slid nearer to him but didn’t touch him. 

“I’m still confused,” Lucas confessed. “It’s been twenty years, and I still don’t really understand. I just - I wish that I had reported it to somebody who could have stopped it. Because when I think about all the other kids that he must have manipulated and lied to and hurt...” His teeth clenched. “I tried to find him online a couple years ago, and I couldn’t, which hopefully means that he got busted. I hope he lost his license.” 

“I hope he lost everything,” Zakk stated gravely.  

Finally, Lucas met Zakk’s eyes. They shared a long look in silence. 

“I’m sorry again for flipping out earlier,” Lucas said eventually. “I know I’ve been acting crazy for a long time, and I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I know I’ve been awful.” 

Zakk nodded. “Well, now I understand why it was happening, so I’m not mad. We’ll talk about it later and get through it, okay? I love you so much.” He tipped his head, his eyes filling with tears. “And I am so glad that you opened up to me. I’m so proud of you. Thank you, baby, I know that took a lot of strength.” 

Lucas tried to smile. 

“Can I hug you?” Zakk pleaded. 

“Only if I can hug you, too.” 

Zakk slid forward, holding Lucas tightly. Lucas gave him a gentle hug in return and shut his eyes. As Zakk began to quietly sob against Lucas’ chest, Lucas exhaled. 

“I’ve never said any of that out loud before,” he muttered, more to himself than to Zakk. Then he realized, “I’m so tired.” 

“Of course you are.” Zakk pulled back, sniffled, and set his hand on Lucas’ cheek. “Do you want to lie down?” 

He shook his head and leaned forward to rest on Zakk’s shoulder. “No, I want to stay here.” For some reason, the floor felt safe. Safer than lying down, which was what he’d been doing when- 

His grip on Zakk tightened, and Zakk’s tightened in response. Lucas was surprised by how much it helped. 

“Can someone talk to the kids about what’s normal at appointments and what’s not?” Lucas whispered. “I’ve thought about it for years, and I don’t want it to be one of us. I want it to be like a presentation.” 

“I think that’s an excellent idea.” Zakk kissed his hair. “Why don’t you let me figure out the logistics of that, hm?”

“No, I-” 

“Let me have a turn, please,” Zakk said calmly. “I’ll find somebody good, and I’ll run them by you before I book them.” 

“You’ll run them by me?” Lucas repeated, his exhaustion clear in his voice. 

“Yep. But I’ll find them and book them. Hey, maybe I’ll find two good people and you can help me choose between them.” 

“Okay,” Lucas whispered. 

“Okay.” 

“I love you.” 

Zakk held him even tighter. “Moon of my life,” he said quietly. 

“My sun and stars,” Lucas echoed. With a heavy breath out, he let himself close his eyes, but only for a moment. 

[venting-journal]

Well update time.

My half siblings and the rest of my family know about me now and most have been okay with it.

On the work front I had to quit the job I had when writing the last post due to medical issues. I tried working somewhere else, thinking it would be easier on me but it wasn't and my health started declining even further. I worked there for four weeks so I had nothing to protect my job and the last week I had an incident with a customer that lead to the worst anxiety attack of my life. My coworkers and manager said everything would be fine but my anxiety really messed with me after that. Eventually my medical issues were getting so bad at work that I couldn't see straight and would move around almost in a confused state like my mind couldn't keep up with what was going on around me. I left work early to go to urgent care and all they could do was tell me to take ibuprofen which helped with the pain but my mind still reacted as if it was there. I was then given the option of quitting and being able to apply again once my medical stuff was taken care of or I'd have to not miss any days or leave early or else I'd get fired and wouldn't be welcomed back. I decided to quit because I didn't want to lose a job opportunity for when I was better. Looking back on that job I realized how safety wasn't a concern to them (which is one of the reasons I ended up with my anxiety attack) so I won't be applying there in the future. Currently I'm unemployed but not receiving unemployment because they deemed my case as quiting for unnecessary reasons.

My health issues, as I believe I stated in the previous post, I believe were the result of a 3 inch cyst on my right ovary with the ovarian tube wrapped around it. I thought it was causing my pain and sickness and I went to the doctor many times prior to my last job and throughout it. They had me take so many blood tests I can't even remember the number but they kept finding nothing except for problems with my liver (fatty liver disease, unrelated to my symptoms). Eventually they sent me to a surgeon to hear his opinion on whether the sister should come out or not. He said it wasn't what he would consider big and that in a 3 months they'd check the size again to see if it was growing. It was but slowly and so he decided to go ahead with an operation scheduled on the 1st of March 2021. He informed me that the symptoms I was having were most likely unrelated to the cyst and that taking it out would most likely provide no relief. There was also concern that I had endometrioma (like endometriosis but in the ovary) which resulted in what is called a chocolate cyst (a cyst full of blood) because in the ultrasounds the ovary with the cyst on it was enlarged. My health continued to decline but wasn't as bad without the stress of work. My surgery went well and I actually had a funny moment when I came to because I couldn't speak (they had a tube down my throat during the surgery so it was very hard to speak once it came out) so I tried using what little sign language I knew to spell out "Mom". She was the one that came with me and I actually was able to leave fairly quickly. When I got back to my boyfriend's house my Mom stayed with me until late at night and my grandma came shortly after we arrived because they were worried my boyfriend wouldn't take care of me. When he came home from work he was surprisingly attentive which eased my family's worries. As the days progressed he became less attentive, probably because I wasn't in enough pain to take my pills, but I still could not move around easily and would get extremely dizzy randomly. Eventually my post Op came up on St Patrick's Day and the surgeon told me I was healing just fine and that I actually didn't have endometrioma.

Now with my relationship that's the day it took a turn. Despite getting good news and heading to my Grandma's for dinner my boyfriend decided once we were in front of her house to tell me he wasn't sure if he needed a break or if he wanted to break up with me. He said he only wanted me to have a safe place to recover from my surgery (I wasn't fully recovered, just recovering well) which gave the impression he had been thinking this for a while. He then left me there and because my Grandma was busy she didn't hear me outside so I was stuck out there alone with what he had said running through my head for a half hour. The night was pretty much ruined and it took me a couple hours to stop crying. He apparently went to go hang out with friends after he had left me and I asked him if I should move out to which he said yes. My family wasn't ready for me to move back in with them so he agreed to let me stay at least until they were ready. When he returned home we had a really bad fight that sent me into a panic attack and he tried to comfort me. He decided that he wanted to take a break and for the next two days he was very affectionate which confused me. He and his brother (the other person living with us at the time) left to go visit their Mom and that was when my family came to move me. I was officially moved out 4 days after St Patrick's Day. A week passed and he and I talked over text, I was still having a hard time coping, and he eventually decided we could hangout again but still be on a break. That didn't last long and we turned into a sort of long distance relationship. He wanted me to get a therapist and a job, saying I'd need them if I wanted to go on a trip with him at the end of the summer. Well after everything with my past jobs, the surgery, and my mental state I was too scared to start working again. I told him that I would get a therapist first and move from there which he seemed fine with at first. My search has so far been a failure and every time he would ask about it and I'd tell him I still hadn't found one he'd get mad. I eventually started telling him that I didn't want to talk about it with him and to please stop asking but he didn't. I tried to work on myself even though I still hadn't found a therapist and I felt like I was making progress although I had a bad day here and there. That brings us to last Friday, April 30th, and I was feeling insecure. With all the times he had dumped me before I was constantly on edge feeling like I had to do everything right in order to make him accept me. My insecurities got the best of me, through some of our texts he started to stop acknowledging me saying "I love you" and I got scared and upset. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt and asked what was going on... That was a mistake.... He misunderstood and twisted my words thinking I was accusing him of ignoring me so we ended up in another fight all over a misunderstanding. He ended up dumping me again claiming I had been making no progress finding a therapist or a job and was accusing me of not trying. He accused me of using him as an excuse not to do it. I told him that wasn't true and that I was trying but he didn't care and didn't believe me but he still wanted to be friends.

Since then we've had more fights, me trying to explain how I feel about the situation and him ignoring it and saying it was just an endless cycle pretty much admitting he didn't have faith in me in the first place so he didn't try. When I pointed out all of this to him and told him how I felt he said I was just being mean and saying shitty things about him. We've kind of calmed down now although I'm still really upset and feel used and betrayed. Today I told him that if he really wanted to be friends I would try but now he seems to have changed his mind and says he needs time.

Overall things have been really shitty with a few good moments sprinkled in between. Every time I'd start improving he'd dump me and say I wasn't. It was very toxic and I told him I wouldn't deal with it anymore. I told him that if he wanted to be friends he'd have to work on himself as well.

Anyway I've been ranting for long enough. I hope anyone who actually reads this has a wonderful day/night.