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captainmalewriter · 3 months ago

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This story is a part of Occam's writing prompt challenge. I highly recommend y'all check out #occam2000 to read the other amazing entries by the other talented writers!!

LATEST REPORT ON RECENTLY DISCOVERED METAMORPHOSIS GENE

Few things in this world are as beautifully intricate as human reproduction. However, it is not a perfect system. Any number of things could go wrong during the conception and/or birth of a human being, one of which includes genetic mutations. The chances of gene mutation are never zero. While modern-day doctors and scientists continue to fight the good fight of keeping harmful genetic disorders at bay, there is one particularly potent mutation a tiny percentage of the human population carries.

How long this mutation has existed within our gene pool is currently unknown. What is known is that although this malignant gene usually remains dormant within the human body, it can potentially rearrange an individual’s genetic composition and expression when active. Unfortunately, this information was only recently discovered after it had already wreaked havoc in [redacted]. The mutation has been dubbed the Metamorphosis (MM) gene. The MM gene is linked to the Y chromosome in humans. Fortunately, a male’s X chromosome usually functions as a suppressor, thereby keeping the malignant gene dormant in afflicted individuals. However, it is still possible for the MM gene to rekindle if certain conditions are met.

First, an afflicted male must lack the appropriate allele(s) for their X chromosome to properly function as a suppressor against the MM gene. Second, the individual’s body must be in a state of heightened activity due to intense physical exertion. Lastly, on a neurological level, the individual must experience high levels of dopamine, oxytocin, and norepinephrine (or, in simpler terms— love). Should all these conditions be met, the door opens for the MM gene to potentially awaken within the subject.

As you may have already surmised, statistical probability works in our favor against the MM gene. Unfortunately, however, there remains a chance, regardless of how slight, that the proper conditions will align for this chaotic mutation to awaken and wreak havoc on both the carrier male as well as any surrounding, non-carrier parties. This was the case with one individual in the town of [redacted].

Numerous questions about how the MM gene operates and spreads among non-carriers despite being classified as a genetic disorder inundate microbiologists with, unfortunately, little to no answers at the time of this report. Further research into the matter remains a high priority.

END REPORT

***

It was supposed to be an ordinary day like any other when Geovanni R. Diaz stepped into the gym that afternoon. He drank his pre-workout in the front lobby while waiting for his friend/gym partner Evan Washington to arrive. The two men had met at the beginning of summer when they both started hitting the gym on the same day. They bonded over making fools of themselves as they misused several exercise machines. They became close friends and regular gym buddies since then.

Some 20 minutes had passed, and Evan was still nowhere in sight. Geo finished the last few sips of his pre-workout and decided to start without him. It was common for Evan to flake out, especially as of late. While Geo initially shared Evan's casual approach to the gym, he eventually decided he wasn’t satisfied with doing the bare minimum. He took on an intense 60-day workout regime to really challenge himself. Evan supported his friend’s endeavor, but the differences in their goals eventually showed themselves when Evan regularly skipped days while Geo kept at it. He didn’t take it personally; he had grown used to it, although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss having someone to joke around with between sets. Regardless, Geo claimed a chest fly machine, powered up his headphones, and then proceeded to get to work.

“Hey papi, mind if I work in with you?”

Geo heard a familiar voice behind him as he finished his warm-up set. He smiled as he turned and saw Evan leaning against the machine.

“Hey, handsome, I thought you weren’t coming today.” Geo stood up and embraced his close friend.

“Wasn’t planning on it if I’m being totally honest, but then I decided maybe I’ve been skipping too many days and forced myself out of bed to come here. Did you just start?”

“Yeah man! It’s chest and shoulder day today so I figured I’d start with my favorite machine,” Geo looked at Evan with a grin. “Care to join me?”

Evan only laughed in response. They both already knew the answer, but they enjoyed asking anyway as a joke. With that, they proceeded to go through Geo’s workout plan together. Naturally, Evan couldn’t keep up with Geo anymore and had to lower the weight after every set, but that didn’t stop them from enjoying their time together. By the end of the workout, they were both tired and sweaty in the locker room after hitting the weights hard.

“I have no idea how you manage to stay on track with this whole fitness challenge thing…” Evan huffed as he caught his breath. “I’d probably give up after the first day. You look good though! Your hard work is paying off and it really shows!”

“You think so?” Geo said as he wiped the sweat off his brow. “It’s hard to tell sometimes. I look in the mirror and I feel good, but then I stare at myself too long and I start worrying if I’m just lying to myself.”

“That’s just body dysmorphia talking, you look great!”

“Aw thank you Evan, you’re too kind.”

“Of course! Anytime you need reassurance, I’ll always be here.”

Evan flashed Geo a broad smile, and he smiled back. A few minutes passed before Evan started talking again.

“Hey, are you free tonight? I was thinking of making my world famous lasagna tonight, and I'd love to have you over for dinner.”

Geo stopped drying himself after he heard Evan say that. He turned slowly to Evan and saw him with a shy smile. The same smile formed on his face as he began to answer.

“I would love to have dinner with you, Evan. Of course I’ll come over tonight.”

Evan practically exploded with excitement. He ran to Geo for a hug, almost knocking him over due to the impact. Geo wrapped his arms around Evan and held him in a tight embrace. Their hugs always put Geo in a good mood. He was more than overjoyed to discover that Evan shared his feelings. He knew this hug would quickly become one of his top favorite memories. It was a tender moment between two men falling in love, which made it all the more noticeable when loud indigestion ended their sweet moment abruptly. Geo pulled away and held his stomach as he kneeled over in pain.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Evan asked.

“Ugh… I’m fine. I think I just need a bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Geo ran off while Evan stayed behind in the locker room. Evan finished packing up their things while he waited. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty. Growing worried, Evan walked to the bathroom stalls to check on his beloved friend. He heard heavy, labored breathing coming from the only closed stall.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

Evan knocked on the stall door and found that it was unlocked. He pushed it open slightly. His jaw dropped to the floor when he found Geo naked and drenched in sweat on the tile floor. His eyes were clenched closed, and his face was distorted due to unbearable abdominal pain. Evan ran to his side.

“What’s going on!? What’s wrong?” Evan asked with apparent urgency in his voice. Geo could barely get words out as he was too busy hyperventilating.

“So… Hot…”

Evan held a hand against Geo’s forehead and almost immediately recoiled from how hot it was. Geo was running an extremely high fever, unlike anything he had ever seen! Evan’s eyes darted around the bathroom as he desperately sought solutions but couldn’t think of anything due to his panic. He was desperate. He knew he needed to act fast before—

“Ohhhh it hurts!!”

Geo’s sudden shriek stopped Evan’s negative line of thinking. At that moment, time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Evan’s gaze shot back to Geo. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw what was happening to his soon-to-be boyfriend. Unbeknownst to both of them, Geo was a carrier for the Metamorphosis gene, and all the right conditions were met for it to awaken. The gene was hard at work rearranging Geo’s DNA, and he began transforming right before their very eyes!

It began with his body hair. Like the other men from the paternal side of his family, Geo had never been able to grow much body hair, if any. However, he did have the genes needed for ample body hair, and thanks to the MM gene, it was finally able to express itself. Thick, black hair began sprouting out of his legs in spurts. With each hair follicle that grew in, Geo’s legs grew just a little bit thicker than before, causing Geo to moan obscenely loud as a result. The accelerated hair growth traveled up his legs and into his crotch area where his pubic hair grew in at an alarming rate until he had a jungle of bushy pubes covering his groin. His hairy balls hung lower than before after growing in size and his cock grew an inch thicker in width. Within a few minutes his entire lower half was transformed. His legs became as strong as tree trunks, and with a new, well-endowed package to boot— all covered in a thick layer of hair too!

The transformation wave continued to ripple throughout the rest of his body. Geo twisted and writhed on the floor as the rest of his body underwent rapid changes. A prominent happy trail formed on his lower abdomen, connecting his belly button and pubic region with a line of long, messy hair. His pecs grew more plump as hair ran up his ab line and onto the center of his chest where it spiraled outward until it formed little rings of hair around his nipples. His chest and abdominal areas were only covered with a slight dusting of body hair compared to his legs. The stubble on his face grew until a thick, connected beard replaced the short goatee Geo once sported.

His armpits were hit the hardest by the transformation. His pit hair grew and grew until it curled from its long length, leaving Geo with obscenely hairy underarms. Combined with the heavy sweat of an intense workout, Geo’s hairy pit smell began to fill the room. Evan recoiled from how unexpectedly strong Geo’s musky body odor had become, though he couldn’t resist helping himself to a couple of sniffs after he got a whiff of his powerful musk.

The MM gene had thoroughly scrambled Geo’s DNA sequences, leaving him as a completely unrecognizable, alternate version of himself!

“WHEW!! God I feel sooo much better now… Hey what’s wrong, babe? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“G… Geo? Is that you?” Evan stood in shock from disbelief. If he hadn’t witnessed it for himself, Evan would’ve never believed that the hairy, smelly jock lying in front of him, staring at him with a lustful smirk, was the same man he had just invited over for dinner.

“Of course it is, mi hermosito, who else would I be?” Geo winked as he threw his arms up, leaving his hairy underarms exposed. “By the way, I saw you sniffing the air earlier… How about you come and have a whiff right from the source?”

Evan chuckled nervously, but Geo wasn’t joking. His laughter died down as he realized just how dead-serious Geo was.

“No… You’re not seriously—”

“Oh but I am,” Geo interrupted. “Just a little taste won’t hurt anyone. Call it a preview for what’s to come later tonight.”

“But right here? In the public bathrooms?”

“Why not? It’s not like anyone else is around right now. We’ll just have to keep our voices down if someone comes in. So, what do you say? I know you want to…”

Geo got up from the ground and approached Evan. He stood close enough that his scent naturally filled Evan’s nose without him needing to sniff. Evan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as his friend’s intoxicating musk left him in a state of deep arousal. Of course, Evan had some reservations about hooking up with Geo after he had just randomly transformed right in front of him, but between how close Geo’s pits already were to his face and the fact that it still seemed to be the same man he had come to know and love on the inside, Evan couldn’t bring himself to reject the offer. Before he could think about it properly, he was already leaning in without even realizing it.

Once Evan started, he couldn’t stop. He buried his face deep into Geo’s sweaty, rank underarms. Geo’s coarse black hair tickled Evan’s nostrils as he nuzzled against the crevices of his pits. Muffled groans filled with pleasure escaped Evan’s mouth as he indulged in the manly, sweaty scent, each sniff leaving him more satisfied than the last. Soon enough, both Geo and Evan grew rock hard from all the sensual physical touch. The tents in their gym shorts poked and rubbed against each other as they continued pressing their bodies together. For Geo, the thought of getting worshiped in a public place like a gym bathroom was the hottest thing ever while Evan was just happy he got to service a hairy, sweaty gym rat.

Evan briefly lifted his head out of Geo’s armpit for air. At that moment, Geo held his face and planted a firm kiss on his lips. Their tongues wrestled inside of Evan’s mouth as they locked lips. Once they had their fill of making out after a while, Geo began pushing Evan down onto his knees, to which Evan happily obliged. Geo’s cock stood at full mast, nearly poking one of Evan’s eyes out as he got into position. Evan was in awe as he held the heavy piece of uncut brown meat in his hands. He was drooling just from the sight of it! Not able to restrain himself anymore, Evan dove right in and guided the leaking tip into his mouth.

Arghh… Mmmmm…

Geo let out guttural moans as his friend went down on him. The sound of a man’s deep moans encouraged Evan to service him as best as he physically could. It was almost like he forgot he needed to breathe as he slurped Geo’s entire length up and down with his tongue until it hit the back of his throat. Geo squirmed and grunted obscenely loud as Evan wrapped his cock with his warm, moist mouth. He only lasted a few minutes until he couldn’t hold in his load anymore. Geo held Evan’s head down, his nose pressing against his unruly bush, and let out a loud groan from deep within his lungs as his load came rushing out. Evan whimpered with pleasure as he swallowed Geo’s heavy load, the salty taste of cum filling up his mouth. Once it was done, they both pulled away with a satisfied ahhh!

“Alright, get up. Your turn.”

Geo helped Evan up to his feet, then got down on his knees himself. Evan didn’t deny Geo’s advances, but he also didn’t help him get into position either. He had a blank expression as Geo proceeded to go down on him. Even as he swirled and sucked on his sensitive head, Evan didn’t react or say anything aside from an occasional soft moan. All he could focus on was a prominent cut on the inside of his cheek that he could feel with his tongue. Was that always there? Evan wasn’t sure, but regardless, it was already too late. The damage was done. He had contracted the MM gene from Geo.

Evan winced as he began to notice a pain growing in the pit of his stomach. It started as a slight ache, but it quickly became unbearable. Evan hunched over, letting a low groan as he held his hands against his side where it hurt the most. It felt like he was being stabbed from the inside out! The next thing he knew, his muscles rapidly stretched and constricted as the gene started rearranging his DNA.

Because Evan was a non-carrier and his immune system was not already accustomed to suppressing the malignant virus, the MM gene was able to activate without delay and transformed him much faster than Geo. He threw his head back and quietly moaned as the transformation happened. Geo was too busy giving him head to even notice. He just thought he was doing a good job.

The MM gene was hard at work bringing out Evan’s hidden genetic traits. Although he was only 12.5% Black from his mother’s side, that was more than enough for the virus to play around with. Various points around his skinny body began to inflate with muscle mass. His thin frame and scrawny chicken legs filled in with much-needed mass, giving him sturdy legs with sharp ab lines and impressive cannons for arms. His biceps swelled to the size of melons as his body flexed under the tension of rapid transformation. Evan himself was surprised with how heavy his new body was becoming.

His facial structure shifted and morphed. His nose widened while his jawline became stronger and sharper. A bushy goatee beard grew in where he once could only grow peach fuzz. The once wholly flat-chested Evan Washington now sported two massive slabs of meat resting on his torso. His pecs were firm, strong, and hung low from their own weight. Coupled with bright pink nips, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he now possessed a perfect chest. Although his pale skin tone stayed the same, the MM gene brought his Black features out to the forefront, giving the once undeniably White young man a more visibly biracial appearance by the end of his transformation.

While Evan underwent a total identity change, Geo kept blowing him all the while. Although he did notice a sudden change in Evan’s girth and overall size, the taste of a nice, sweaty cock kept him focused on the task at hand. Geo simply took a breath through his nose and opened his mouth up even wider to keep deepthroating him. Evan’s body was still sensitive from having undergone rapid growth, which only made the pleasure of having his dick sucked sloppily increase tenfold. The veins in his thighs and cock twitched and throbbed as he climaxed and pumped out his thick load straight down Geo’s throat. Geo swallowed, sighed with deep satisfaction, and got up from the ground.

“Mmm! You know, yours tastes kinda tangy!” Geo gathered and licked up the few stray drops dripping from Evan’s tip.

Meanwhile, Evan was trembling, struggling to breathe after all the physical stimulation. Only after Geo finished cleaning up the spunky mess did he realize that the Evan standing before him no longer looked like the Evan he once knew.

“What the— Who are you!! Where’d Evan go?” Geo yelled. Evan turned to look at him, and Geo saw his pupils dilating unnaturally rapidly. “Dude, what’s wrong with your eyes!?”

Evan said nothing in response. The MM gene fried his mind with a heavy concentration of hormones, leaving him in a state of severe brain fog. Evan stumbled forward to the nearby mirror. His cock was still semi-erect. The sight of his own dick was enough to make Evan drool as he admired and flexed his arm muscles. Geo tried calling his attention but to no avail. Evan was unresponsive to his shouts. He had one thing and one thing only on his horny mind.

“More…” Evan muttered.

“More what?” Geo replied. Evan snapped his line of sight back at Geo. His dazed eyes wandered to Geo’s exposed junk, then narrowed as they met his eyes. He let out a low growl as his eyes suddenly had an intense look that caused Geo to take a few steps back. It was the same look a hungry lion gave a gazelle out in the wild. Geo swallowed his breath. He became acutely aware of the situation he was in.

“Dick! I want more dick!!”

Evan puckered his lips and lunged towards Geo, though Geo managed to sidestep him in time.

“Get away from me! Look man, you might be hot as hell but I’m not interested! I’m a taken man!!”

Geo quickly gathered his discarded clothes and hightailed it out of the bathroom. Naturally, being in the hyper state that he was, Evan wasn’t going to give up until he got what he craved. He stumbled out of the bathroom stall ass naked, where he was about to run into the perfect target.

“Man! Today is just not my day,” a bodybuilder mumbled as he walked into the locker room. Dylan was a muscle gay, and he came to the gym solely to go cruising that day.

However, despite his efforts, he struck out. He was getting sexually frustrated, which made him incredibly willing to hook up with some random stranger in the bathroom.

Dylan was as equally surprised as he was impressed when Evan stepped out of the stall with his cock out. The smell of sweat and cum hit his nose, arousing him. Dylan loved what he saw and decided to make his move on the muscle-bound hunk.

“Hey there, stud! Need a hand there?” Dylan whistled at Evan, catching his attention.

Evan turned to him. He was still visibly sweaty and was breathing heavily. Dylan wasn’t sure what to make of him, but Evan didn’t give him a chance to reconsider.

Evan charged at him, planting his lips against his upon impact. Dylan was caught off guard but had no problem matching Evan’s energy. He kissed him back as their frisky hands began feeling up each other’s bodies. Although Dylan loved making out, Evan’s kissing style was quickly turning out to be way too rough for his tastes. Evan forced his tongue in, had an obscene amount of saliva, and even bit down on his bottom lip with enough force to draw blood.

“OWW! What the fuck man!?”

Dylan pushed Evan away and held his bleeding lip. He was glad that there wasn't a lot of blood, but was still rightfully pissed off. As ravenous as he was due to the MM gene, Evan was oblivious to what he had done. Instead, his attention shifted to another guy wearing only a towel near the showers. He ran off in that direction and left Dylan in the dust.

“Prick…”

With that, Dylan decided to just give up and get a quick workout in. He took out a rice bar and ate it as he returned to the main area. He did his stretches, picked up a couple of barbells, and claimed an open bench. But just as he was about to start his first set, a powerful hunger overcame him. He grabbed at his stomach and kneeled over in pain as the MM gene took effect.

All of Dylan’s hard-earned muscles melted away within a matter of minutes. He rapidly gained pounds upon pounds of body fat. What were once washboard abs complimented by chiseled biceps were replaced by flabby arms and a protruding, hairy gut. His pecs lost their firmness and began to sag as they became nothing but a pair of man boobs. All the while, the same overwhelming lust Evan had began growing within Dylan too.

A handful of nearby good samaritans came to Dylan’s aid after he collapsed. While they all tried to help Dylan, most stayed back after witnessing his sudden transformation firsthand. Nobody knew what was happening behind the scenes, leading to anxious rumors and worried whispers floating around the gym. While most people were too cautious to get near Dylan, one brave man decided to step forward and help Dylan. Unfortunately, as he tried to help Dylan get up to his feet, Dylan accidentally scratched him on the back. The young man recoiled and dropped Dylan to the ground as a result.

As other people began to help Dylan, the injured man stepped off to the side to tend to his wound. He felt unusually warm as he finished putting on a bandage. He didn’t think much of it and ignored it but soon found himself sweating bullets as he rejoined the group. It got to the point that he needed to take a seat to try to cool off, but it was no use. He soon joined Dylan on the floor, writhing in pain due to contracting the MM gene.

At this point, everyone in the gym had gathered around the two men. The crowd stood back as they bore witness to yet another transformation. They watched in bewilderment as the short man rapidly grew in height. He groaned and gasped in anguish as his limbs stretched out. His torso grew and widened until he had the body of a tall bear. He pawed at the growing tent in his sweats as he thrashed around the floor, massaging his manhood as hormones continued pumping throughout his body. Within minutes, the infected man had gone from a stout 5’4 to a big, burly 6’4.

Although the afflicted man already had a healthy spattering of trimmed body hair, the MM gene forced his hair to grow to what was genetically possible. His body hair grew out beyond what Geo experienced. From his chest and belly to his legs and arms, every hair follicle grew longer and thicker, leaving him a pelt of curly body hair. His facial hair, in particular, grew out the most. His mustache grew longer and longer until it practically covered his mouth! His beard became bushy and unruly with coarse black hair as it reached his chest. All the while, the hair on the top of his head fell out one by one until he had a shiny bald head. He became an unrecognizable version of himself thanks to the MM gene. Once his transformation was over, he sat up and let out a bellowing belch that echoed throughout the gym.

“Mrmph… Feels sooooo good…”

The crowd of witnesses backed away from the two transformed men. The two men turned to the crowd and smiled. A cold, ominous air filled the atmosphere. A few intuitive individuals saw the writing on the wall and left before shit hit the fan while the majority stayed behind, anxious and confused at what was going on. A few moments filled with tense silence passed, only for it to be broken when Evan came charging in from the men’s locker room and locked lips with the closest man. Almost as if on signal, Dylan and the burly bear joined Evan’s rampage and lashed out, too.

Pandemonium broke out as everyone made a mad dash for the exit. It was like a zombie attack as Evan and the other transformed men attacked every healthy man they could get their hands on. The unfortunate victims contracted the MM gene. Once infected, they, too, succumbed to genetic rearrangements. Some grew insanely muscular, and others became incredibly overweight. Hair was grown and lost; skin colors changed, and every physical feature rearranged until they were completely unrecognizable. All those transformed men wanted nothing more than to kiss, fuck, and spread their seed to as many people as possible until their hyped-up urges were satiated.

“Shit’s getting crazy out here…” Geo whispered to himself. He poked his head out of the locker room and saw the chaos he unwittingly caused. He wanted nothing to do with the madness and ran out of the gym as fast as he could, though the infected men paid him no attention as he was already one of them. Police were beginning to arrive on the scene as Geo drove away with only one thought: his dinner date with his best friend and crush, Evan.

Though unfortunately for him, the Evan he knew and loved was long gone. It would only be a matter of time before Geo forgot all about Evan, and his body gradually returned to its original state after the MM gene returned to a state of dormacy.

At least, until the next time Geo or some other carrier falls in love.

***

PUBLIC STATEMENT ISSUED BY THE SHERIFF��S OFFICE

Good evening.

As you may have already heard, a horrific incident has occurred at one of our local gyms. Dozens of men went on a rampage. It took several hours and almost all of our manpower, but our police department has successfully arrested all of the sexually rabid men and have placed them in custody.

Security camera footage shows that all of these men were physically transformed before attacking. After an initial investigation, medical experts suspect that a rare genetic disorder called the Metamorphosis gene is responsible. Unfortunately, while there were no casualties, some of our own brave policemen were affected by the viral outbreak and were transformed themselves.

Two big questions remain tonight: how did a genetic disorder manage to spread like a virus, and how did these men contract this previously unheard of disorder? The arrested men were questioned about the events that led to this mass riot. None have been able to provide any concrete information. None of them seem to recognize their former identities, citing amnesia and severe migraines as the cause.

Patient 0 has yet to be found. An active investigation continues as research efforts for a potential cure to the Metamorphosis gene’s effects continue.

END OF STATEMENT

#occam2000 #male transformation #male tf #muscle tf #weight tf #hairy #hair growth #virus tf #permanent change #musk #pit tf #long fic #unintended consequences tf

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witchpassing · 4 months ago

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That mage you caught last night is starting to smell of ozone. There’s a feeling in the air like the afternoon before a summer thunderstorm, which is funny, seeing as it’s October and you’re keeping her - for the time being - in a basement.

And god, does she ever wish that storm would break: fingers twitching, teeth set against the bit in her mouth, pretty yellow eyes on your throat from the second you step through the door. Ring-in-ring of sorcerer gold, xanthous star-furnaces of pure and towering petulance.

If sore losing alone was enough to sublimate thought into action, this building would be a crater and your name would be an execration upon the lips of the living, fit only to be spoken by hungry ghosts, et cetera; but ‘the Art hath three cornerstones’, three levers by which the magician moves the world, and spite isn’t on the list. Something like one in five thousand practitioners can work with just two, something like one in fifty thousand manage something with one, and right now she’s operating with exactly zero. So here she sits, in her fulminating cloud of beckoned and unspent aether, seething.

You gesture with the tray in your hands. “You gonna try to ash me if I take that gag out for a second? I’m not risking somatics, too, so. Gonna be feeding you myself.” Shrug. “You know how it is.”

You actually feel her try to kill you for that, the swell and press of the aether against your skin. It passes. You wait. There’s a simple calculus here, hatred and mage-pride against the fact that twenty-odd hours is a long time to go without food, a real long time to go without water.

The wizard picks the wrong answer. Turns her head away in dignified - well, an attempt at dignified - silence, as if you and your stew are completely beneath her notice.

“Alright, then,” you announce, putting your foot on the bottom step of the basement stairs. “See you in another, I dunno, twelve, maybe fifteen hours. Holler if you need anything.”

You make it about, oh, two-thirds of the way up before the noises she’s making through her bit get pathetic enough to bring you back.

#microfiction #this one's writing

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blurredcolour · 11 months ago

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I. "Do You Trust Me?"

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

A slight against one of your dearest friends causes you to act wildly out of character, and Bucky finds himself stepping up to save you as he realizes just what you mean to him after months of seemingly innocuous encounters.

Warnings: Language, Period Typical Sexism, References to Cheating, Reader Knees a Man in the Groin, Perceived Threats of Violence, Plenty of Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - T.

Author’s Note: Well here we are, watching me write for this show before it's fully aired. Blame/credit to @precious-little-scoundrel and her anon for infecting my brain. Reader has an unnamed brother for sake of plot, no descriptions or y/n used. Events of this fic take place a few days before the horrific Regensburg mission. Also I recognize that WACs did not arrive in the ETO until July of 1943, this fact does not seem to have influenced Hanks/Spielberg so I shan't let it influence me either. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 4217

-------------------------

The pub was crowded, as usual, and Bucky leaned back in his chair as Curt regaled their table with another one of his stories from Walla Walla. The press of uniform clad bodies, damp from the summer rain outside, created a humid atmosphere. But as he tipped the last few drops of Scotch whisky from his glass into his mouth, he was certain there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Buck had decided to sit this one out, wanting to catch up on his latest letter to Marge. His mouth ticked up at the corners as he reflected once again on how different he and his friend were from one another. Glancing at the bar while he contemplated fetching the next round, Bucky’s eyes widened as they fell on the last person he would ever expect to see in a pub. It took him a moment to recognize you in such an unusual environment, hair perfectly styled. He noted that you were even wearing makeup as your teeth sank into your brightly painted lower lip, wending your way through the crowd, clearly on a mission.

“Bucky are you even listening?” Curt chided with a sharp jab of his elbow into his upper arm.

“Yeah absolutely,” He nodded firmly, unable to take his eyes off you, “every word.” He tacked on as his gaze followed you across the room on your approach to the notorious flirt from 349th squadron, Arthur “Red” Jameson.

He was vaguely aware of the doubtful scoff his reply had earned as his eyes narrowed. Wasn’t your friend Mary rather serious about Red? Not that Red bothered limiting himself to any one woman, local or American – there were few limits that smug redhead put on his relations with the fairer sex. Perhaps that was why Bucky was feeling particularly annoyed with how close you had come to stand next to him at the bar. With the way you were smiling at him. You hardly ever smiled, had to be one of the most serious, reserved women he had ever encountered here in England or back home.

It was when you ducked your head to peer up at Red through your lashes that the realization hit him – you were fucking flirting with him. His fingers clenched tightly on his empty glass, fingertips blanched white as the strength of his grip drove the blood from the flesh there. A slow, knowing smile unfurled across Red’s face as he leaned in, his hand landing on your shoulder making Bucky’s teeth grind together almost painfully as he was flooded with proprietary rage.

The intensity of it startled him, made him take a sharp breath and relax his grip on the glass. Where in the hell had that come from?! The pair of you had spoken no more than a handful of times, simple interactions in the Operations Room of the Control Tower back when he was Air Exec, around the base, or most recently, that afternoon when you had lent him a copy of one of his favorite books, but it wasn’t like you were close. You were quiet, overshadowed by your boisterous friends Mary, Ruth, and that brunette whose name escaped him just then. They were always outgoing at dances while you did an excellent job of decorating the wall. It certainly was not like you were anything more than colleagues. Objectively that was the truth, however, as Bucky sat there watching you grin at that man…

The final straw came as your lips nearly brushed against Red’s ear, making that bastard’s eyes shoot wide, sending Bucky surging to his feet. He narrowly missed one of the low beams overhead as he glared across the crowded room at the cozy pair you and Red presented at the bar.

“Jesus Christ Bucky, did something jump up and bite your ass?!” Curt barked in surprise, the rest of the table laughing loudly in response.

Bucky barely heard them as his new vantage point allowed him a clear view of your knee colliding painfully with the apex of Red’s thighs, causing him to crumple against the bar as you bolted out the back door. Bucky stared after you, just as bewildered as Red’s friends, before they charged out the door in your wake.

“God dammit.” He muttered under his breath before climbing over his friends to make a dash for the front entrance of the pub, his cap clutched in his hand.

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Your Women’s Auxiliary Army Corp unit had arrived at Thorpe Abbots in late May, part of the first battalion of WAACs sent overseas. Assigned to the Eight Air Force, you had spent roughly a week with your British counterparts of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force observing missions on other bases before it had come time to establish the base for the 100th.

Fast, accurate typing skills and a calm, quiet temperament had seen you promptly assigned as a clerk in the Operations Room, one of the tensest and most chaotic places on the entire base. Upon your arrival at training camp in Fort Des Moines, you had been adopted by a trio of far more outgoing women – Mary from Miami, a sun-kissed blonde who managed to look that way no matter what the weather; Ruth from Pittsburgh, a black-haired beauty who was manufactured from the steel her hometown was known for; and Violet from Savannah, a brunette who elongated every vowel like the southern belle she was.

Why they chose to waste any of their precious time on you was as much as mystery to you in England as it had been in Iowa, and yet any time you tried to convince them you would be perfectly happy sitting out a dance in your barracks with a book instead, they were adamant you attend. Bodily removed you from your cot to join them – not that you were one for dancing, even with the most handsome of airmen. And that title would most certainly have to be bestowed upon Major John Egan. Perhaps a bit of a rogue and more-often-than-not a little too deep into his cups, there was something undeniably charming about him. A magnetism that drew every woman on the base, and from across all of East Anglia, to him. The handsome devil knew it, too. Of course he did, that was, alas, also part of his charm.

Your trio of outgoing friends had gravitated toward him immediately, traded their fair share of coy looks and dances with him while you looked on quietly from the sidelines. He never really seemed to form that deep a connection with any of them, with any woman for that matter, but that did not deter the female population from trying to be the one to catch his eye for a bit of fun. It was during the long hours of the 100th’s first mission, while he was still serving as Air Exec, that you’d had your first occasion to speak to the man directly.

In the middle of one of the tense periods of waiting for news, he had poked his head into the office to see if anything had come across the teletype or wireless and you had looked up, meeting his eye. He was wearing his sheepskin coat, a striking combination of ivory and cognac colored leather that would have honestly looked absurd on anyone else, yet on him just seemed to belong over his dress uniform.

“Can I help you, Major Egan?” You had asked, fingers poised above your typewriter as you paused your progress in typing up a report for Colonel Huglin.

He had looked at you, startled a moment. “I was convinced you might actually be unable to speak. Glad to know I was wrong. It’s Bucky by the way. Just checking if there were any updates?”

“We’ll be sure to get them to you as soon as we have them, sir.” You had replied professionally, trying to ignore the warmth unfurling beneath your breastbone at having his attention directly solely upon you.

“That’s all I can ask then, thank you.” He had winked before slipping out of the room and heading back towards the plotting map.

It had not taken long for a series of updates to arrive, both by radio and over the teletype and being the highest-ranking clerk in the office, third officer, it was your duty to run them out to him. Grabbing both sheets of paper, you had quickly made your way across the room, startled to find him striding towards you, meeting you halfway. “Here you are Major Egan.”

“Touchdown.” He had grinned and taken them over to review with the others as you had hurried back to your office, gnawing on the inside of your cheek to hide your smile.

You had been admittedly saddened when he had been demoted to squadron commander of the 418th after Colonel Harding assumed command of 100th. For selfish reasons, certainly – your interactions had become increasingly limited after this point – but also because it meant he was more frequently put into harm’s way. Every time he went up in a fort, you found focusing on the job at hand more and more difficult. Unlike the ground crews or the brass, it was not looked upon kindly for the WACs to go running outside to see which forts had come back. Which airmen were injured. Sometimes it would take hours for you to confirm that he was all right, and only then by way of hearsay.

You had still run into Major Egan from time to time, while walking with your group of friends to the WAC mess for dinner – by mid-July you were now serving in the Women’s Army Corp as a 2nd Lieutenant, or after meetings in the Operations Room when he was not flying missions. But the longest conversation you ever had was during one of your breaks earlier that very afternoon. It was an uncharacteristically sunny day, and with no mission in progress you had decided to take your coffee break outside, behind the control tower, sitting on one of the benches the ground crew had built out of scrap wood.

Before you had enlisted, your brother had bought you a copy of his favorite book, one he had never let you read before because you were ‘just a kid’ but now that you were old enough to sign up for the service yourself, he had decided you could have your own copy. With just two pages left, it seemed the perfect way to break up the morbid tallies you had been typing up in the grim office upstairs, and you had just finished the final sentence when a shadow fell over you.

“Now how did you get a copy of my favorite book?”

You had lifted your eyes quickly, squinting slightly into the bright sun that shone from behind him, to see Major Egan standing there.

“Major Egan. You like Guys and Dolls, sir?” You had asked, startled.

“How many times do I gotta tell you it’s Bucky.” He had stepped out of the sunlight to sit beside you carefully. “I love everything by Damon Runyon. Which story did you like the best?” He had leaned in curiously.

Pursing your lips to think over the collection of stories you had just finished, you smiled briefly as the answer came to you. “’Madame La Gimp.’ Where they pass off the bag lady –”

“As a society matron! Yes!” Major Egan chimed in, laughing as he nodded in agreement.

“What…about yours?” You had swallowed, unable to stop yourself.

“God, I haven’t read this book in forever…” he had reached out for it, and you had set it in his hands easily.

He had sucked his teeth in thought as he turned it over in his broad hands. “It’s gotta be a tie between ‘Blood Pressure’ and ‘Hold ‘Em Yale’…ah but ‘Lemon Drop Kid’ is excellent, too.” As he had spoken, he had begun to gesture with the book to emphasize his words, making you press your lips together fondly.

“You can borrow it if you’d like.” You had blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Give me a definitive answer once you’ve read it again.”

Major Egan had looked to you quickly. “Really? But what if…how will I know to get it back to you?” He had raised an eyebrow.

“My name’s on the front page.” You had nodded reassuringly but swallowed tightly as he opened the cover as if to confirm it for himself.

“‘Hey Sis,’” He had begun to read the inscription he found there, bringing your brother’s words to life, “‘lighten up, would you? You don’t have to be so damned serious all the time. See you on the other side.’” He had paused a moment before his eyes had met yours, caught you watching him, before you quickly looked down at the grass at your feet. “Where is he?” he had asked quietly.

“On a ship in the Pacific, somewhere.” You had replied softly, finding each blade of grass infinitely fascinating.

“Are you sure–” He had begun to ask before the sound of your name being called by your very impatient Captain, a woman even Major Egan knew not to waylay, interrupted the peaceful afternoon.

You had leapt to your feet. “You’ll get it back to me.” You had nodded and rushed back inside, believing every word of it.

You had seriously contemplated sharing your encounter with at least Ruth, the more level-headed of your friends, knowing she was the least likely to conflate the exchange with a marriage proposal. But as you returned to your barracks that night, you frowned deeply to find Mary in tears on her cot. After much soothing and rocking in your arms, she finally managed to open up, sharing what had gotten her so upset.

“It’s Red…I caught him out back necking with one of those doughnut truck girls…” She hiccupped and dabbed at her nose with her hanky.

“Oh Mary, I’m so sorry.” You frowned, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I let that creep talk me into sleeping with him!” She wailed, fresh tears boiling over onto her cheeks as she sagged onto your shoulder, sobbing anew.

Every muscle in your body tensed as her outburst sunk in, the depth of his betrayal fully registering as Vi and Ruth returned from the end of their shifts in the weather office and Mary launched herself into their arms to fill them in as well. The level of pure fury that seized your body was utterly foreign to you and, unlike the descriptions you had encountered in literature to date, felt utterly icy in your veins. As your friends gently coaxed Mary to the latrines to get herself cleaned up, you hung back, a plan formulating quickly in your mind. Your life without these women would have been lonely, all but intolerable, and this transgression against one of them could not go unanswered. You could not look at yourself in the mirror if you did nothing.

Digging quickly through Mary’s belongings, you found her most alluring shade of lipstick, carefully but efficiently applying it to your lips before unpinning and redoing your hair into a more fashionable shape rather than the more utilitarian style you normally wore. Lastly you added a flick of mascara to your eyelashes and rouge to your cheeks. All this was accomplished using the tiny mirror Vi had set up on the shelf beside her bed. Nodding once in satisfaction, for it was truly the best you could do in a solo effort, you darted out the door, lipstick tube in your pocket for reapplications, if necessary. The cad would never see it coming from you, you just needed to figure out a way to get close enough.

Fortunately, the years you had spent on the sidelines watching the three masters of feminine wiles at work had afforded you quite the education. It was only a matter of finding the perpetrator to enact your revenge. You located him in the second pub you visited, taking a slow breath as your eyes sought him out in the crowded, humid space. The rain had thankfully stopped before your foray out into the night, though the streets remained wet, and you had taken the time to refresh your lipstick and tidy your hair before stepping inside. Your heart began to race as your veins flooded with adrenaline.

‘Easy now. Slow and smooth like Mary, give him that flirty smile she’s famous for.’ You thought to yourself.

As his eyes met yours it was all you could do not to wince back in disgust – you were going to need to hide your dislike better.

‘Pretend he’s someone else. Who would you like him to be?’

You gulped shyly, teeth sinking into your lip at the thought of applying these skills to Major Egan, noting that Red seemed immediately more receptive as you slid up beside him where he stood at the bar.

“Evening, Red.” You smiled at him broadly, swallowing nervously as he echoed the expression warmly.

“Well good evening to you too. You escaped the base.” Red teased you.

You faked a giggle and tilted your head down before flicking your eyes to look up at him through your lashes, something Vi had weaponised to great effect on many an occasion. You tried not to shout in triumph as Red’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, leaning in closer.

“Can I buy you a drink, sugar?”

“Actually…” You smiled coyly before leaning in close to his ear, taking a slow breath before dropping all pretense from your tone. “Mess around with one of my friends again and I’ll cut it off.” You snarled into his ear before driving your knee into his groin as sharply as the straight lines of your uniform skirt would allow, slipping out of his grip as he slouched over the bar with a cry of pain.

You longed to bask in his suffering, in your triumph, but you also recognized you had to get out of there before the consequences of your actions found you. Spying a door propped open to a back alley over Red’s crumpled torso, you made a dash through the stunned corner of the pub and out into the night, pausing a moment before turning to the left, hoping it was the correct direction. You certainly wished you knew your way around town a little better.

Your heart was pounding so hard you were worried it might burst through the front of your WAC jacket as you neared the main street but there was an increasing ruckus behind you – surely Red’s friends in hot pursuit. Suddenly Major Egan appeared in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere, and grabbed your arm, pulling you around a corner and down a smaller alleyway.

“Do you trust me?” He asked quickly, glancing back towards the approaching sound of voices as he shuffled you backward, closer to the brick wall of the building behind you.

You nodded at him, speechless, breathing heavily from your flight. Your uniform cap felt precarious where it was perched on your rapidly falling hairstyle. Major Egan’s aftershave was flooding your senses due to his sheer proximity.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He whispered as his eyes met yours, his own cap at a dangerous angle atop his dark curls, defying gravity.

He shifted forward to crowd your space, your eyes shooting wide as his forearms lifted to press against the wall on either side of your face, body shielding you from view. He bowed his head to press his lips against yours softly, making your eyelids flutter closed, doing nothing to slow the erratic beating of your heart. He tasted a little bit like whiskey, which had reminded you of gasoline the few times you’d had the misfortune of sipping it, but on his plush lips, it was not so bad.

Your hands balled into fists in the olive drab fabric of your skirt, heat painting its way across your cheeks and down your neck as the coarse hair that decorated his upper lip brushed against your skin. It was all too tempting to lose yourself in the feeling of him surrounding you, protecting you, kissing you. Reality reared its ugly head, making you inhale sharply through your nose as you heard the crowd of men stampede right past you muttering angrily.

“That damn cold fish from operations…”

“Who the fuck does she think she is?!”

“No wonder she ain’t got nobody.”

Pulling back from his lips, you frowned down at your brown uniform shoes, still hidden within the cage of his arms.

“Hey…” He murmured, bowing his head to nudge your nose with his, drawing your gaze back up as you swallowed shyly at the tender gesture. “Don’t listen to ‘em.” He urged you, his blue eyes so very dazzling and disarming at this range, even in the dim light of black-out conditions.

“I…It’s ok,” you breathed as you shook your head. “I know I’ll never be…” you furrowed your brow, not even sure what word you were searching for.

“Anything other than perfect, doll?” His lopsided grin was devastating, made it hard to breathe, though that may have also been his continued proximity. He leaned in for another kiss, but you lifted a shaky hand to press against his shoulder.

“Th…they’re gone you don’t have to pretend…” You murmured sadly, shifting to stand, but he did not move an inch, his breath brushing against your cheeks.

“I’m going to kiss you now because I want to, doll.” He murmured, eyes tracing over your face while giving you a moment to respond.

You were, however, frozen, staring at him again and so he pressed his lips firmly to yours, making your fingers curl slightly around the lapel of his uniform jacket. He hummed softly in response, pressing you back against the wall as he slanted his mouth tighter to yours, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. Shivering at the heat of his palms against your skin, you slowly lifted your other hand from your skirt, stretching it towards him, letting it hover between you tentatively.

He dropped his right hand from your cheek to guide your arm around his waist before sliding his own hand to splay against your lower back, drawing a whimper from your throat as you arched slightly.

He pulled back from your lips, chest heaving. “Christ, doll, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“Bucky?” You whispered, confused by his statement, finding it difficult to think clearly.

Bucky groaned and kissed you fiercely, licking at the seam of your lips, sliding his tongue to yours the instant you parted your lips for him. Toes curling in your shoes, you found yourself mewling into his mouth wantonly until he wrenched back suddenly, hand cupping the back of your head as he hugged you tightly into his chest. The sound of voices eventually registered in your addled brain – Red’s friends returning from their failed attempt to find you.

“If I had known all I had to do was kiss you senseless to get you to use my name…” Bucky teased once the coast was clear, panting into your hair.

You giggled against his throat, your own chest heaving as he loosened his hold on you. Your cap tumbled to the ground, fully dislodged by his attentions.

“It’s a burden I’m willing to bear.” He smirked, pressing his lips to your exposed forehead. “Let’s get you back to your barracks. What are you doing out here all dolled up kneeing idiots like Red in the goods anyway?” He asked as he bent to retrieve your cap, dusting it off and placing it in your outstretched hand before turning to slide his arm around your shoulders, leading you toward the main road.

You huffed with a frown as you walked with him, putting your cover back into place snuggly, crushing your once-stylish hair. “I didn’t appreciate the way he treated Mary.”

Bucky smirked at you “Your brother is right you know, you really do need to lighten up…you can just call him a good-for-nothing and be done with it. No need to write a formal treatise on his behavior.”

His lips stretched into a grin as that pulled another laugh from you. You turned to look at him properly and gasped.

“Bucky you have lipstick all over –”

“Perfect” He nodded proudly, cocky grin on his lips, and made no move to clean up his face, while you quickly wiped at yours, knowing you would have to face your barrack-mates. “Next time you go on an attack mission you let me know, alright, doll? I’ll fly on your wing anytime.” He winked at you, and you bit your lip shyly.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You swallowed and stopped walking, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek softly.

As you pulled back, Bucky flexed the arm he still had slung about your shoulders, hauling you in for another heart-stopping kiss, your hands coming to rest against his chest. You had a feeling that the rather lengthy walk back to base was only going to become exponentially longer and found you really did not mind at all.

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Read Part Two - "Just Had To Trust You."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan fic #john egan imagine #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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redtsundere-writes · 5 months ago

Text

Part 3: Blood Bath

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 2458 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

Sukuna left the castle a week ago. He set out for distant lands to conquer villages, eat its people and spread the terror on his behalf. This time, he had embarked on a journey to a nation full of curses in the southern part of the world to kill King Jogo. Since all his negotiations failed, Sukuna would take his lands into his own hands. If victorious, he would be king of two kingdoms. A great masterstroke for a single curse.

The absence of his frightening presence was noticeable in the magnificent palace. Peace reigned in the spotless marble hallways, the quiet kitchen and the solitary great hall. Despite not having the pressure of everything being perfect, the servants made sure the castle would shine in all its glory for the king's return. The servants walked around at their leisure, pretending they owned the place. They ate at whatever time they wanted, lay down to rest on the lawn of the parade ground, and talked loudly about the rumors that have been surfacing about your relationship with the terrible tyrant.

Recently, it had come to your attention that you were Sukuna's favorite servant, but no one knew exactly why. The consensus had concluded that it was because you were his mistress. Sukuna used to lock himself in his room with you for hours at a time and always came out with a broad smile. The truth is that you didn't sleep with him, you just gave him massages, fixed his outfits and sometimes talked for hours about the weather or his trips around the world. You tried several times to clear up the rumors, but no one believed you. Some believed you, a girl who had never shown any such double-mindedness, but there were many servants who were jealous that the king only treated you well. So, they trash talk behind your back.

It was a rainy summer afternoon. You and a small group of servants were cleaning the great hall, the largest room in the castle. Surrounded by white concrete columns that rose to the ceiling, you sternly swept the red carpet that indicated the center. Diamond chandeliers softly lit the place, statues of the king stood tall and the beautiful hand-painted mural raised on the ceiling harmonized the entire room. The drops fell softly against the giant window in which the green outside could be admired.

“When do you think our king will return?” One servant asked the other as they cleaned the decorative torches that rested on steel bases around the perimeter.

“He won't be long, he has to come back to his mistress,” the other one joked. They both let out small, annoying chuckles.

Those kinds of comments had become more recurrent as the days went by due to their new freedom. You knew they did it on purpose. They would raise their voices every time you entered the room or when you were about to go to sleep. None of the other servants seemed to want to intrude to keep what little peace they had. You slammed the broom down on the carpet hard to take out your frustration.

“How disgusting to be that monster's mistress, don't you think?” the other one asked. You could feel her piercing gaze on the back of your head, waiting for you to react to her uncalled-for comment.

“I know! I don't know how she can sleep with someone as creepy as our king,” she replied with disgust in her voice.

Those two had crossed the line. If you didn’t do something now, they would keep impudently poking fun at the king. You firmly grabbed the broomstick to confront them about their lousy topic of conversation. You approached them at a steady pace, dragging the broomstick in case you needed it as a weapon to defend yours and your king’s honor.

“That's enough!” you scolded. “I don't sleep with our king! Besides, he may be a monster, but thanks to him, we can eat fresh food, sleep in comfortable beds and live in a magnificent palace! If I were you, I'd stop barking, bitches!” You exploded after such a long time of having to put up with their out-of-place comments.

“Shut up! You're only defending him because you're his favorite whore!” One of them exclaimed, throwing the feather duster in your face.

“Yeah, shut the fuck up, who-!”

A fine cut echoed throughout the great hall. A large splash of blood fell on your face, blinding you for a couple of seconds. The slight gasp of surprise from the other servants left you speechless. You dropped the broom to scrub your eyes. What had happened? You backed up in desperation until you ran into a wall that wasn't there before. After a snap, it all made sense. You looked up to see Sukuna's sharp jaw. Dried blood tainted his skin, his breath was cut short from exhaustion. He was back home after conquering another empire successfully.

“Does anyone have anything else to say?” Sukuna asked the other servants, who were kneeling before him, giving him a warm welcome.

You knew you should kneel, but seeing the lifeless bodies of what used to be your gossiping companions froze your body. Their heads had been cut in half and the rest of their bodies were shattered in perfect small cubes. What used to be two women were now small pools of blood, bones and flesh. You could barely breathe before the stunning scene. Sukuna had erased their existence with just a couple of his fingers. It was a scene you never thought your eyes would see in the flesh. That would be your fate if you did not obey your master's orders.

“This is a reminder that I can get rid of you just as quickly,” he threatened. His thick voice echoed off the walls. “If I hear that you even dare to speak blasphemies about me or one of your companions, I will not hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?” The servants, still kneeling, said, “Yes, my king,” in unison.

Coming out of your state of shock, you turned around to kneel at his feet. Sukuna looked at your small figure compared to him. He had heard how you had defended his honor in the face of annoying accusations. He knew you were a good servant, but now you had proven to him that you were something else.

“Welcome home, my king,” you greeted in a trembling voice. Your agitating body was still processing the murder your eyes had witnessed.

“Draw me a bath,” he ordered, brushing past your greeting.

“Yes, my king.” As soon as you felt his heavy footsteps walking away, you sighed from the depths of your soul.

You ran as fast as possible to his room to get there before him. Luckily, you had cleaned the bathroom thoroughly the day before, so everything was ready for the king to relax properly. You turned on the faucet to fill the tub with hot water, sprinkled scented bath salts, filled the water with bubbles and lit a few candles to romance the atmosphere. Sukuna soon arrived. Without a word, he began to undress as usual. Obediently, you stood in front of the wall to give him some privacy.

“Since when?” He asked you as he untied the knots of his garments and let them fall to the floor. You could only hear the soft fabric sliding down his Herculean body.

“I don't understand the question, my king,” you answered confusedly, looking at the wall full of black tiles reflecting the flames of the candles.

“How long have they been bothering you?” Sukuna completed the question while analyzing your figure from behind.

He could tell you were nervous in his presence. Even though you had spent quite a bit of time with him unlike others, you always played with your fingers and blushed in his presence. You also avoided his gaze, but that was because he ordered you to do so.

“Since a couple of months ago,” you answered.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Sukuna entered the bathtub, which was already bubbling. You closed the bath faucet and pulled a stool to begin the most complicated task, washing his hair.

“I didn't want to waste your time.” You prepared the utensils: a sponge, a small wooden bowl and glass bottles filled with the hair products.

“You don't dictate what I do with my time,” he replied sternly.

Sukuna stepped into the tub so you could easily reach his head, drowning his torso into the soapy water. With the help of a soft sponge, you wet his pale pink hair, taking care that the water did not enter his ears. The king closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the pleasant sensation after a week of consecutive massacres. Untangling his short hair with a wooden comb, avoiding pulling too much so as not to hurt him. You placed the shampoo directly on his head and massaged the product into the roots.

Sukuna hummed happily every time your fingers gently stroked his scalp. You were so gentle with him even though he was the worst monster ever. You scratched, stroked and massaged his skull to your heart's content. While you let the product work, you focused on his broad shoulders. Your hands roamed his upper body calmly and patiently. The king was tired from having fought day after day and night after night to leave his name high as the greatest conqueror, you could tell by how tense his skin was. He purred from the back of his throat as you pressed your thumbs against his skin to relieve him of stress.

“Answer me a question,” Sukuna asked with his eyes closed.

“As many as you wish, my king.”

“Are you loyal to me because you are afraid of me or because I am powerful?” He asked firmly.

“Both. I am afraid of you because you are powerful,” you replied as you took the bowl of water to rinse his hair.

Sukuna smiled, satisfied with your answer. That's why you were his favorite servant. You are a perfectionist, shrewd and perceptive. You always managed to surprise him differently every time. Something no woman had ever managed to do before. Sukuna twisted his torso to face you. Your face and your white clothes were inked with the blood of your companions. He couldn't let you work like that, after all, it's his fault you were stained.

“Take off your clothes and come in,” he ordered.

“What?” You asked, shocked.

“You're dirty. Come in. I won't repeat myself,” Sukuna demanded.

You nodded and started to undress before his eyes. He had seen hundreds of women undress before. He knows what a pair of striking breasts, sexy hips and long legs look like, but even so, he was mesmerized as he watched you unfold before his eyes. Each garment slid down your body delicately, your hairs bristled from the change in temperature and your nipples stood erect at the lustfulness. No one but your mother had ever seen you naked. You had never been with a man, let alone a monster as imposing as he was.

Sukuna held out his hand to help you into the large tub. You sat in front of him and covered your breasts with the glistening bubbles that floated around you. He took one of the sponges and soaked it with soap to gently clean your face. The now dried blood came off easily. His black claws sometimes slightly scratched your cheeks, but you could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible with your beautiful face.

“It's not necessary, I can do it myself,” you asked, trying to take the sponge from him.

“I can wash my own hair too, but I prefer you to do it. Let me do it,” he replied before filling the bowl with water and wetting your hair.

He repeated the same process as you. The warm water, the closeness of your bodies and his hands taking care of your hair, transported you to fantasies where you had a relationship beyond king-servant. They were romantic ideas of a Sukuna you didn't quite know. A Sukuna who hugged you every time he saw you, who gave you head pats every time you did something right, and who sat you on his wide lap, demanding attention.

Someone knocked on the door, to which Sukuna allowed access. It was Uraume, who had just heard that the king had returned and what had happened with the reckless maids. What they did not expect was to see you in the bathtub next to his majesty, but even so, they decided not to ask details of how they had come to that situation.

“Welcome home, your majesty.” Uraume bowed from the doorway. “Dinner is ready. You must be hungry after the long journey.”

“I'll be there in a minute,” Sukuna answered. Uraume bowed again and left the room.

“They won't say anything,” Sukuna assured you before getting out of the tub. You were about to get out to give him his towel too, but he stopped you. “The water is still hot, it would be a shame to waste it,” he said before taking the towel and wrapping it around his waist.

“It's my job to do it,” you said.

“Your job is to obey me,” he dictated seriously. You sat back down in the tub and nodded. “Good girl,” he said with a satisfied smile before leaving the bathroom.

Sukuna returned to the bedroom and looked in his closet for what he would wear to dinner. He glanced into the bathroom from time to time to observe you. A small naked human wrapped in the ethereal steam of her innocence. He could have any woman in the world. Why was his mind obsessed with your beauty, your words, and your docility? He didn't know exactly, but he was sure you were completely his, so he didn’t have anything to worry about.

You stood alone with your thoughts in the elegant bath. You plunged your body into the water, submerging your head in the bubbles. Heads cut in half, his big hands stroking your hair, brains strewn across the carpet, his gentle touch as he washed your face. The quick, deep images made you feel confused. Your head went back up to the surface as you realized you were short of breath. You brushed your wet hair back to take a deep breath. What were you doing? Where were you? What kind of person were you serving? Sukuna confused you with his actions, and now you didn't know what to do with your poor heart beating a mile a minute for him.

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peachsukii · 11 months ago

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Hollow Heart { chapter 1 - hurricane }

『♡』 pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | friends to lovers ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡

summary: The dynamic duo of Dynamight and Deku are unstoppable, climbing the hero charts like they always dreamed of as kids. Their journeys were tough, but offered them the world - fame, fortune, protection of their family and friends, a comfortable hero life. The recent increase in crime around Tokyo kept their entire sector busy, sending heroes out non-stop, desperate to keep the statistics as low as possible to maintain a clean reputation. When a nearby sector is requesting assistance, the boys are tasked with a mission to inspect a villain’s lair in a deserted area outside of the city. Reports have noted people going missing, specifically with rare quirks. With plenty of other heroes being unavailable, you’re chosen to tag along with the duo for the night operation. Everything is going according to plan until the villain lands a surprise attack, resulting in the your kidnapping and whisking you away through a mysterious portal. It’s been a month since your disappearance with no help of the hero agency. Bakugo and Midoriya take it into their own hands and are determined to get you back - no matter how long or what it takes. tags & warnings: mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance a/n: Prepare for the heartbreaking journey of Bakugo battling with his feelings when it’s too late…or is it? :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; ~20.6k as of ch.4 ꒱ Chapter 1 | Hurricane [5k] Chapter 2 | The Ghost of You [4.7k] Chapter 3 | Choke [3.9k] Chapter 4 | The Grey [6.7k] Chapter 5 | The Good Left Undone [4.7k] Chapter 6 | Tourniquet Chapter 7 | There is Fear in Letting Go 『♡』 this fic has a playlist! ✩

CHAPTER ONE: HURRICANE

A beautiful summer morning, rays of tangerine light poured into the living room of your apartment as you sleepily make your way to the kitchen, desperate for that first cup of coffee. The clock on the stove read 8:35AM - the latest you’ve overslept in the last month. It was another long night in the office, writing reports for your previous week’s hero patrols that you’d put off for far too long. You'd think someone else would be responsible for inputting notes into the agency's system, but no - anyone below rank 10 was tasked with entering in their own data.

Criminal activity in the area had increased significantly within the last 3 months, calling heroes of all ranks out nonstop, especially lower ranked heroes. Was it annoying? Sure, being awoken in the middle of the night out of a dead sleep to go stop a small robbery at the local late-night supermarket wasn't ideal. Especially when you dreamed of dealing with bigger threats, akin to crime syndicates and large scale villain organizations. As a hero, you’re taught to tune out the small details and focus on what’s in front of you - keeping the citizens of your ward safe and sound, even if it's helping a granny cross the street in the middle of the afternoon.

The agency accepted you with open arms right out of UA High, over the moon to have a hero with a quirk like yours in their roster. Psionic energy manipulation was shockingly uncommon amongst the 80% of the population of quirk users. The kinetic hero, Y/H/N, ranked number 37 - high enough to earn respect from your peers and low enough to not have to worry about being followed by paparazzi and negotiating brand deals. Cities were full of billboards with ads sponsored by heroes, heavily focused on those in the top 10 for allure to their product. Deku and Dynamight’s athletic wear collaboration, Uravity’s mochi bites, Shouto’s fire and ice energy drinks - it was impossible to avoid. Did you wish you had the smallest bit of spotlight? Sometimes, but being able to walk the streets off-duty and not be bothered was a luxury you'd like to keep. On the counter, your phone buzzed and flashed awake, shaking you out of the sleepy stupor.

Incoming Call: Katsuki Bakugo

A picture of you and Bakugo appeared on to the caller ID screen - one of your favorite pictures with him. It was from a concert in Shibuya you'd attended a few months back. His arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he flipped off the camera, wearing his infamous toothy smirk as you leaned against him with a small peace sign and a warm smile.

It's unfair how effortlessly attractive he was. Admittedly, you'd had a crush on him since high school and drank up every ounce of affection he threw your way over the years. Even though you've known him and Midoriya since childhood, your friendship didn't truly blossom until your first year in UA. Thanks to your tenacity and fighting spirit, he respected you after a long six months. That broke down his walls just enough to tolerate you and continue to be friends ever since.

You, Midoriya, and Bakugo became three peas in pod, a strong bond established to last a lifetime. Post-UA life wasn’t as easy to see each other, but you made it work - trainings, missions, conflicting work schedules, and general life couldn’t get in between the three of you, even if it was just over texts, phone calls and late-night movie marathons. It helped that you all lived in Tokyo, at least. Midoriya, of course, was extremely special and essential to your life. He’s like the little brother you always wanted and a constant ray of sunshine, always there for whatever you need. There was just something different and special about your bond with Bakugo - a spark, without sounding cliche. And after all these years later, he's still your favorite person and one of your best friends.

You wouldn't trade it for the world. Oh shit, I forgot we planned to go for a run this morning. You answer hesitantly, knowing full well you’re about to get an earful about being late.

“Yo, Y/N, you plan on showin' up anytime soon?” There was shockingly no annoyance in his tone. “It’s almost 9.”

“Sorry Kat! I overslept. Had a long night writing reports in the office. I’ll be there in 10,” you say, not making any excuses. You hear a loud tch in response - ah, there’s the annoyance.

“I was about to bust down your door and give you a personal wake up call,” he teases, laughing to himself. “Get your ass to the park. See ya, lite-brite.” The line ended with a click.

He'd never let that nickname go, one that followed you all the way back from high school. You'd grown used to it as he typically reserved it to get under your skin or light a fire under your ass. Most of the time? It worked - and you liked it.

Setting the coffee cup in the sink, you jog back into your room down the hallway and change into a clean set of workout clothes. You'd just gotten the PR package from Midoriya last week with his new sports wear collaboration with Bakugo, saving you time by not having to dig through your laundry pile. He would have scolded you for slacking on chores if he were to have woken you up in person, and then folded it himself to prove a point. He’d often harp on you for not keeping up with basic shit around your place, but in the same breath, start cleaning up for you - it was one of his love languages.

The company they collaborated with nailed the designs perfectly. It was minimalistic, but still paid homage to their hero costumes. You grab Bakugo's set - a cropped black sleeveless hoodie with an orange 'X' across the front, a forest green band with a drawstring around the midsection, and an orange hood. The matching shorts were all black with a simple orange stripe down the sides. The neoprene material allowed for the set to breathe in any weather condition.

Thankfully, the park you were meeting him at was only a couple minute walk from your apartment building. Not long after pulling your hair into a ponytail, splashing your face with water and brushing your teeth, you're kicking on your sneakers by the door and shuffling out of the apartment. A few minutes to spare, you duck into the convenience store along the way, grabbing two sports drinks and a bag of his favorite spicy-flavored chips. God, you hated the taste of them and never understood why he liked them so much. Some part of you jokingly thought it fueled his already explosive personality, literally heating him up from the inside.

───

"You wear that on purpose?" Bakugo snickers over his phone as you skip toward him, pointing to your workout gear.

"What can I say? It's comfortable. Happy to be a walking ad for the number four hero," you say, elbowing him in the arm. He rolls his eyes, snatching the sports drink you've outstretched to him and mutters a thanks.

"You should model our next set," he pats you on the back. "You're the perfect fit."

You scoff, waving a hand at him. "Yeah, like I'm model material."

"I literally just said you were, dumbass. Take a damn compliment!"

He peers over your shoulder to see the chips in your bag. "Damn, you're really kissing up to me today. What's the occasion?" He's beaming over the attention you're showering him with - he'd never admit how much he loved it.

You shake your head playfully. "What, I can't spoil my favorite person?"

Bakugo barks out a laugh while opening the sports drink and chugging half of it in one go. Again, it was stupid how attractive he was, no matter what he did. The summer breeze made his blonde locks dance lazily in the morning sun, a sheen on his flawless skin as some of the liquid spilled out of the corner of his mouth, trickling down his jawline. A sadistic part of you thought he did this shit on purpose to rile you up, testing the boundaries of your friendship.

If only you had the nerve to just scream from the rooftops - Katsuki, I fucking love you.

“You good, Y/N?” He's waving a hand in front of your face. “Space case much?”

“Yeah! Sorry, apparently still waking up,” you apologize while stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s go!”

───

An hour later, you and Bakugo finish your run in the park, completely drenched in sweat. The two of you plop under a nearby tree in the shade, the humidity adding a layer of exhaustion to your depleted stamina. Lazily slouching over onto your shoulder, he steals the sports drink out of your hand and downs the rest of it himself with a satisfied hah. Somehow, you always forget that he smells like caramel and burnt sugar after a run, invading your senses with that sweet essence that you loved. His bangs stuck to the sweat on his forehead as he dropped his head back against the tree, eyes closed as he caught his breath.

God, he’s so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, almost afraid he'd somehow hear you.

"I'm free the rest of the day," he comments between shallow breaths, lazily opening one eye and elbowing your side. "Down for a movie day? Been awhile."

"Hell yeah. Junk food, too?" Your eyes light up with excitement.

"Like you gotta ask. I didn't run three fuckin' miles just to look good," he quips. "Cool if I shower at your place?"

That catches you off guard, sending a flutter of butterflies off in your stomach. Why the hell are you so riled up today? Sure, you've had a massive crush on your best friend for ages, but its usually not this intense. Must be the scent of his sweat deluding your thoughts...or maybe it’s the potential scene of watching him walk out into your living room, shirtless - excess water cascading down his hourglass figure, tracing his abs and settling into the hem of his sweatpants.

Stop it! Calm the fuck down.

"S-sure. I have a pair of your sweats, I think…maybe Izuku’s? It’s like you guys leave your shit at my place so I do your laundry for free."

He shoves you jokingly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Hah! Knew it was you who stole my favorite pair. I’ve got shit with me, no worries.”

Bakugo climbs to his feet, extending a hand back to you. “C’mon, I’m fucking starving and dying to do nothing the rest of the day.”

───

The sunset’s sorbet-colored afterglow flooded the living room as the fourth movie’s credits rolled on the TV screen, a faint warm breeze coming through the open balcony door. The two of you had settled in after your run, marathoning through a collection of films you'd be wanting to watch, surrounded by a buffet of comfort food - taiyaki, meat buns, spicy fried chicken bites, mabo tofu, yakitori, and a box full of various flavors of dango. The cashier at the convenience store must have thought you two were hosting an insane party with how much food you bought, cleaning out their entire hot foods section in minutes.

Bakugo stretched out like a cat, his abs flexing as his black tank top moved up his midsection. It was impossible not to stare, especially when he wore cropped shirts, showing off his hard earned muscles. You found it ironic how you mentioned once - and only once - how crop tops on guys are attractive as hell, and a few weeks later? He had a handful of them that he’d rotate wearing during the summer, claiming he only wears them for “regulating his temperature for his quirk.” You knew that was a bold-faced lie, but never called him on it. Why would you risk making him change his mind when they looked so good on him?

He let out a satisfactory groan, putting his feet up on the coffee table and hands behind his head. You stretch as well, throwing your feet in his lap like always. Bakugo looked comfortable, like he was at home. You were home to him.

“I got somethin’ on my face?” He jokes, lolling his head to face you.

Lost in thought, you have no time to stop the words falling from your mouth.

“No, just admiring you.”

Bakugo quirks an eyebrow, surprised by your flattery. You see a faint pink blush begin to make it’s way across his cheeks, an extremely rare sight.

“Th-thanks,” is all he can muster to say in a low voice.

“Is that so weird to say? You’re gorgeous, Katsuki,” you blurt out, shocked by your own words. Where the hell is this coming from? You normally weren't so...forward. Not that you were lying in any capacity. You've complimented him plenty times before, why is now different?

Right?

You pause, realizing you could be overwhelming him. He'd always been adamant on how much he hates when "fans" view him as just a sex object rather than respect him as a heroic figure.

“I know you hate being objectified. I’m sorry -,”

“Don’t be, y’didn't.”

The static of the TV hummed through the lull in your conversation, the credits of the last movie approaching the end of its sequence. You nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Thank fuck he can't hear your thoughts.

Bakugo notices your nervous tick and grins. That damn shit-eating grin.

"Relax, Y/N. I didn't say I didn't like it. Big difference between you and a fan girl sayin' shit like that."

As he’s about to continue the conversation, both of your phones ring simultaneously. That’s weird…it’s 8:30PM on a Tuesday night. Neither of you were scheduled for patrol and all sectors had coverage from the last e-mail update. You pull your phone out to check the caller ID and sigh in annoyance.

Incoming Call: AGENCY - EMERGENCY LINE

“The fuck?” Bakugo huffs, his brow furrowed in confusion.

───

After 15 minutes, you're debriefed with a new mission, and strangely, you’re assigned with none other than Bakugo and Midoriya. This was extremely uncommon for heroes of top 10 rank to work with those below rank 25 and only happened when other top 10 heroes are too busy. Emergency calls were normally automated messages, but this was a personal conference call from the board of directors.

We are in need of Y/H/N to assist Dynamight and Deku’s mission to stake out a villain’s laboratory tonight in Sector 42. We’ve received reports of civilians going missing near the area over the last few weeks, specifically those with uncommon and rare quirks. There is a probability that hostages are being using for the development of a secret serum, to which is unknown at this time. Report to the agency by 11:30PM for further instruction.

Man, you were really looking forward to more time with Bakugo. Granted, you’ll still be with him, but now you’ll be stalking around for work, not stuffing your face on the couch together.

“Kat, I don’t know what it is, but I…I have a really weird feeling about this stake out,” you admit, unsure of where this anxiety is coming from. This isn’t the first time you’ve been assigned to a mission like this, and certainly won’t be the last, there was just something odd in the air surrounding this one.

“Yeah. Go grab your suit, I’ll call Izuku to meet us here and we'll go over together,” Bakugo says hesitantly, already dialing Midoriya and bringing his phone to his ear.

“Hey, yeah just got the call. Y/N and I are at her apartment, swing by and we'll go to the agency together.”

───

By 11:45PM, the three of you are suited up and stationed in Sector 42. The area was very…barren? It was confusing to you how people would wander out here and disappear. It was in the middle of nowhere, miles from the city limits, an open field surrounded by a spotty tree line. Something still felt off about this entire set up - a gut feeling, but it was enough to keep you on edge.

“Y/N?” Midoriya called to you, blinking with concern. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

You rub your temple, desperately trying to push the feeling down.

“Sorry, Izu. I’ve had a gut feeling something was wrong since the phone call.”

“What do you mean?” His interest is peaked, both out of curiosity and concern.

“Can’t place it, but I feel it, too. Something’s not right,” Bakugo chimed in, surveying the field for any signs of…whatever the hell it was they’re looking for. An entrance to a lab? Masked minions abducting people? The agency was extremely vague in their details. That didn’t sit well with you, and Bakugo now, too.

“You’re not wrong. This is an open area in the middle of nowhere. Why would anyone wander out here alone?” Midoriya muttered, continuing a conversation with his own thoughts aloud. “It's not a common road for travel, by foot or by vehicle. And how would the agency know what this villain is making without having the location of the lab in question?”

The abrupt sound of creaking metal echoed around you, a sense of danger spiking in your nerves. You place a hand on the shoulder of both Midoriya and Bakugo to halt them in their tracks.

“Did you hear that? It sounded like a door was opening…close by,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Whoosh!

You didn’t register there was another presence amongst you until the dart made contact with your skin. A warming sensation flowed through your right shoulder as you let out a cry, stumbling to your knee. What the fuck? Your hero suit was designed to prevent piercing damage to a degree, but this dart cut right through it. The dart resembled a syringe, automatically activating the injection mechanism as it pierced your skin.

“Y/N!” Midoriya shouted, immediately wrapping an arm around your waist to whisk you away from another potential attack. Bakugo whipped his head around, looking for any sign of where the dart came from. Was someone hiding, or was it a device hidden out of sight? Maybe in a nearby tree? That's not possible, these trees don't have enough leaves for coverage like that.

“Hold still, I’m going to pull it out,” Midoriya warned. You braced for the pain as he yanked the dart from your shoulder, tossing it out of reach. You wince, the sting slowly fading a few seconds later. “Are you feeling okay?”

Things were starting to feel fuzzy, the ache spreading rapidly through the rest of your body. Everything felt warm and cold simultaneously, as if your body was at war over what temperature to settle on.

“I’m alright, just…dizzy,” you mumble, slurring as you attempt to reassure him.

Midoriya helps you to your feet, offering to let you use him as support. You wave a hand, muttering over and over again I’m fine, I’m fine. There’s a pulsing sensation starting to build in your shoulder, creeping its way through your right arm. It’s tingling, crawling - uncomfortable, but not painful. What the hell was in that dart?

A flash of black invades your vision, throwing you off balance as things pixelate and sharpen repeatedly before completely disappearing. Things are spinning and your senses are dulling. You notice that you don’t hear Bakugo or Midoriya anymore…did they wander off? You should be able to hear explosions, gusts of wind, crackling energy - something.

A force knocks you on your back, slamming you to the ground. You don’t feel a damn thing, just a vague numbness as your body, what you presume, hits the ground. You can’t make out whatever, or whoever, it is that is attacking you. I still can’t hear anything! Can you speak? Can anyone hear you even if you could?

…Y…N! …Y/N!

A voice? It’s muffled, but you hear someone calling for you. Was that Midoriya?

“Let her go, jackass!”

Oh no, that’s Bakugo.

His booming voice reverberates through your head, sending your thoughts whirling in a vortex more than they already were. A vision of the battlefield was starting coming into focus, hazy, but a semblance of scenery was making its way back to you. When did I get up from the ground? Didn't I get knocked down?

The field before you was littered with debris.

…Branches and broken stumps of dead trees.

…Craters in the ground.

…are those broken pieces of Bakugo’s gauntlets?

…patchy trails and puddles of blood soaking into the dirt.

The sights sent a chill up your spine - your gut instinct was right.

To your right, Midoriya panted with force as he held onto his thigh, blood seeping through his suit and staining around the wound. He was close enough that you could see the detailing of his tendons exposed from the impact, frayed pieces of skin hanging from the damage. His hair was slicked back, matted with a mix of, what you think, is dirt and blood. The rest of his suit had a variety of slashes and cuts, the material tattered and torn all over his body.

To your left, Bakugo’s on the ground, battered and bruised as he’s struggling to get to his feet. His gauntlets were missing, along with the glove underneath on his right hand. His exposed forearm was beat red, what looked like hand prints blistering the area. Blood trickled from his forehead and pooled under his mask. He’s shouting again…you can’t quite make out what he’s saying as he’s extending his bare arm in your direction.

What the fuck happened?!

Something inside you clicks abruptly, adrenaline surging, urging you to fight. It’s competing with the numbness in your muscles. How much damage have you taken if you can’t feel a damn thing?

Fuck. Come on, dammit. Move, fight - do something! Help them!

In your peripheral vision, a man appears beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turn on your heel, ready to activate your quirk and blast this guy into oblivion. Your hand meets his clothed chest with a thump.

Nothing happens.

Your quirk doesn’t activate.

Another swing, focusing all the energy you have into a concentrated blast.

Nothing.

Panic sets in as you study your hand, mortified that you’ve been rendered useless. Your mind is racing faster than you can keep up with. Is this the serum they talked about earlier? How long was I unconscious...was I even unconscious?

And then it dawns on you - it’s a quirk suppressant.

The serum they’re using to abduct people nullifies their quirks to make them a willing target.

The mystery man cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your vision tunnels on his face, the rest of your body shutting back down. You feel your arms flop to their sides as your knees begin to buckle - the adrenaline being zapped from your muscles at his touch.

“Good, it’s setting in. You’ll be a decent specimen. We’ve been waiting for a psionics user like you to add to our roster.”

A giant swirl of matter begins to manifest in front of you, a gentle force sucking you closer to it’s entry point. You can't help but think about how helpless you look in this moment, confused as hell that this scrawny man could take down three heroes with ease. You fucking hated the feeling, never wanting to be the damsel in distress. It pissed you off beyond belief.

“It’s time.” The man, in what you can now see is a white lab coat, turns you around to face the boys sprawled on the battlefield. “We’ll be going now.”

Every inch of your body is screaming run. But you can’t. You can’t move, paralyzed by all the conflicting effects of the serum running rampant through your veins. Your vision is dimming once more, your eyes threaten to close as Bakugo’s voice drags you back to reality. Your eyes snap open as he appears in front of you, digging his heels into the dirt.

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!”

He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, pleading for you to hear him as he clutches your forearm, attempting to pull you to him. You can’t feel it, but by the strain shown in his bicep, he’s using all of his strength to hold onto you. His eyes are full of panic, wide and bloodshot, crimson irises aflame.

"Let her fucking go!" he roars a second time. His hand is slipping down your forearm, now desperately gripping onto your hand. You attempt to grasp it to no avail, your strength failing you. You hear him let out an anxious grunt, struggling against the force of whatever is pulling you away behind you.

Time seems to slow as you lock eyes, an exchange of unspoken words between you two. A sense of dread begins to flood through your body as you see tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

He's terrified.

You remember a thought from earlier in the day, if only I could scream "I love you."

There will never be a perfect moment, never a time and place for you to say it. You have to create the moment yourself.

A steady breath escapes you, softly gazing at Bakugo as you see his fingers slipping through your own.

"Katsuki," you mouth, barely able to hear the sound of your own voice.

"I love you."

The last thing you see is Bakugo frantically scrambling toward you before darkness envelops your sight.

- - - BAKUGO POV - - -

Everything happened in the blink of a fucking eye.

Ambushed, both him and Midoriya were hazed with a mysterious smoke, rendering their quirks useless. His explosions fizzled out as he fought the onslaught of henchmen surrounding them, armed with various weapons. The two of them blitzed through a good number of them before quickly becoming overwhelmed - 25 on 2 wasn't ideal odds.

Their hero suits were ripped, equipment shattered as they were punched, kicked, stabbed at, battered, and thrown around.

"I don't need my fuckin' quirk to kick your asses!" Bakugo threatened as he swiped at a nameless henchmen, nailing a right hook to his jaw. Midoriya was holding his own behind him until he let out an agonizing yelp, falling to the ground audibly.

"Deku!" Bakugo called out, spinning in the direction of his cry as someone socked him from the left side. He skid onto the ground, particles of dirt trailing behind him.

Regaining his composure, he looked around to see that all of the henchmen had swiftly disappeared without a trace, as if they were never there in the first place. What the fuck?

He saw her body standing still, some man in a lab coat behind her. She resembled a lifeless puppet, the light from her eyes dim and limbs loosely at her sides. It looked as though she could collapse at any moment.

"Let her go, jackass!" Bakugo shouted, unable to get to his feet.

The unknown man gripped her shoulder as a large black mass appeared behind them.

Is that a portal? That looks like Kurogiri's quirk from years ago, he thought to himself, willing every fiber of his being to get to his fucking feet.

He's able to muster enough strength get one knee off the ground, enough to launch in range of her and wildly grasp for her hand.

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!”

Bakugo doesn't realize he's screaming, he's acting on impulse and adrenaline - desperation to save her. His hand is slipping at an agonizingly slow pace, moving from forearm to her hand, hardly able to keep his hand clasped with hers. He's cursing internally, hoping that she can't see the terror in his eyes, the anxiety filling him to the brim. That's when he hears her speak, her voice hauntingly quiet.

"Katsuki, I love you."

His hand slips away, watching her disappear into the portal. It closes in an instant as he's hopelessly dashing to it, not noticing that Midoriya is charging from behind him. They briefly collide, stumbling from the impact before they both steady themselves.

The silence surrounding them is deafening.

"Kacchan," Midoriya snivels, head hung low. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough to help." His voice was breaking, clenching his fists at his side.

Bakugo stares at his hand, collapsing to his knees. He felt nauseous, the crippling realization churning in his stomach.

I love you.

Her voice ricocheted through his head, bouncing around as it tugged hard at his heartstrings. An overwhelming sensation of loss fills his heart, refusing to come to terms with the current reality.

A brief memory flooded into Bakugo's mind, reminding him of a feeling he'd long shoved away. One night - years ago - at his brand new apartment in Tokyo, they'd been up all night talking after the long day of moving his shit into the place. It was 3AM, boxes piled everywhere as they laid in his bed, bullshitting the night away with random talks of life. She started a vulnerable conversation of mental health amongst heroes, ranging from her own family issues and medicated struggles as examples of not knowing what people deal with beneath the surface. He'd been listening, watching as she poured her heart out next to him, able to smile through it all. It was in that moment that struck him like lightning - he'd fallen madly and irrevocably in love with her. He had convinced himself there was no way she would have felt the same, forcing himself to suffocate that feeling for years.

And he was wrong.

Midoriya crouched down beside him as he's lost in the memory, a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find her, Kacchan, don't worry," he attempts to declare confidently as his own tears are staining his cheeks. "She's strong, she'll be -,"

"She said she loved me." Bakugo's facade was shattering before his eyes as he watched his best friend crumble onto the ground, clutching his chest. He couldn't control the wail that escaped him, tears pouring from his eyes like the downpour of a rainstorm.

Midoriya pulled him close, Bakugo falling limply into him, curling into a ball as they sobbed together.

and thus begins the traumatic story of bakugo and midoriya losing their best friend to a mystery portal to nowhere!

Divider by : @/saradika

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo angst #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #dynamight #☆.rei writes #✩.hollowheart

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captain-joongz · 5 days ago

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Penny for your ghosts, chapter 2

Pairing: OT7!BTS x f!reader

Genre: hybrid au, supernatural au, ghost hunting au (based on Lockwood&Co lore), found family, fluff and humour, some angst, eventual smut

Chapter summary: Moving in is thankfully a smooth affair, and getting to know the pack also brings surprising happiness. Now all that's left to gain is a client.

Chapter word count: 9.9k

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Warnings: a little discussion about death and ghosts, some mentions of near death experiences, some exposition, Yoongi and Namjoon are little shits that love to tease

A/N: originally I planned on ending the chapter a little further, but this is also a good place to cut it and I felt that you guys deserve a little something, so instead of this gathering metaphorical dust in my drawer, I'll be putting out the chapter like this! Hope you enjoy and happy holidays! <3 ps: the new run jin episode is fucking hilarious, i love our boys so much

When two days later Jimin and Hoseok rolled up to the hotel room I was staying in, it was more than just a little embarrassing. I’ve tried telling them that I didn’t really have anything I needed help with, but like the gentlemen they were they insisted.

So, with my single duffel bag worth of belongings in Hoseok's hand and a bag with my old rapier and gear in Jimin's, we set out through the late noon city back to their house.

Namjoon has graciously offered me to live in an empty room up in the attic, where I’d have my own little kitchenette and bathroom (to which of course Seokjin added that I’m still more than welcome to eat with them, to Yoongi’s vehement agreement. Taehyung then later added that I’m welcome to shower with them too, and got immediately kicked by at least four hyungs). I was ecstatic to have a chance to leave the dingy hotel, so I ignored them all and profusely thanked the embarrassed wolf hybrid.

I thought I’d gotten used to the weird looks people often give PI operatives, but here in the big city it was even worse. Even though hybrids weren’t anything new, we’d still get a lot of looks – some fascinated, some curious, some disgusted. And when we travelled while in gear, with big bags full of iron and shiny rapiers hanging at our waists, fear and apprehension would set in as well.

Hybrids were something strange to humans, and ghosts were an imminent danger to their lives they couldn’t even see – therefore we became the mix of everything they feared and couldn’t understand.

So standing in the tram, three hybrids carrying a bag with a rapier sticking out of it, we were quite the spectacle, and I could feel my ears pulling back with the discomfort I felt. Jimin and Hoseok looked unbothered, but I could see the tenseness in their postures.

There was some general chatter, but with the curse of heightened hybrid hearing I could hear every word clearly, as if I was a part of the conversation. And my companions were in the same boat, as I could see Jimin's brows twitch in annoyance whenever someone said something stupid.

“I sure didn’t miss all the complaining about the curfew,” mused the arctic fox the second we got off on our stop and started in the direction of the house. Me and Hoseok both hummed in agreement.

The curfew was something that was put in place already over two decades ago as a desperate hail Mary attempt to stop people from getting hurt out in the streets. It was much easier to contain hauntings when they happened somewhere inside, but out there, especially around parks and cemeteries, the apparitions still sometimes managed to slip by the protective barriers and spill out onto roads.

Back then there were many deaths in the late winter afternoons, with people rushing home from work already after sundown and getting caught up with unruly ghosts. All it took was a single touch and they never made it home.

So the government put up a flexible curfew – it moved according to the seasons – in summer it was later, usually around 8 PM, while during autumn it slowly shifted until it settled somewhere around 3-4 PM during the winter. After that regular folk weren’t allowed to walk outside alone – only operatives were.

It saved many lives, but unfortunately it couldn’t save people from the hauntings in their own homes. Winters in general were hard – ghosts were stronger, agencies were so busy they couldn’t have enough operatives and people died often. We were just beginning autumn, but the dread could already be tasted in the crisp air, even when it was sunny outside.

Just like last time, when I arrived at the house I was immediately warmly received by Seokjin and Namjoon, the two hybrids waiting for us in the brown sitting room and idly talking with the rest of the team. Or pack, maybe more accurately.

There was of course Yoongi, who still smirked at me whenever our eyes met as I willed my blush away, and Taehyung, who was technically the first person I’d ever met from Bangtan Inc. (a fact which earned me a very solemn and sincere “I’m sorry” from Seokjin). The last person in that room I haven’t met yet was a young wolf with huge sparkling eyes that would look so innocent and angelic had I not seen him send mischievous grins towards the black bear earlier.

His name was Jungkook, and he was the youngest. Well, at least before I tagged along.

With pleasantries now out of the way my things were quickly shuffled over to Seokjin’s and Namjoon’s hands, and they started a little tour of the house. Apart from the kitchen and the two sitting rooms, there was also a library and a lounge with games all at once down here on the ground floor – it was the room I heard the chatter from during my first visit. There was also a little bathroom and a storage room tucked into the space behind the staircase, but that was all.

Their rooms were all on the first floor, together with an office space that was mostly Namjoon’s. They didn’t bring me up there, but there wasn’t really why – because I soon learnt that the way to the attic wasn’t through there.

The two hybrids led me towards the same door as last time, the one leading towards the basement stairs. This time I looked around the little space and realised there was another door leading out and the stairs actually curled to lead up too.

“I’m sorry, there will be a lot of steps,” Namjoon muttered sheepishly, gesturing for me to go first. I did.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” I replied, smiling at him good-naturedly to ease his worries, “I’m from the mountains, remember?” The men chuckled and we climbed silently after that.

The room was cozy – really, I would even call it a loft – it spanned the entirety of the attic, just a big open square of space. There was a worn carpet there, an old persian with layers of dust caked into it, with a similarly old looking couch and a little table. In a corner stood an old rickety iron double bed that looked like it’s seen better days, but it would do.

The kitchen was an open space, a little table just enough for two people to eat there was situated right at the edge between the living space and the kitchenette. Bathroom was most probably the little room right next to it, tucked into another corner.

“Will this be enough?” Namjoon asked and he did sound actually worried, to my astonishment, “My uncle used to live here when I was little. And the boys sometimes came here when they wanted to be alone, but I’ll tell them not to do that anymore.”

I gaped at the men, taking the space in.

“Enough? This is more than enough, Namjoon-ssi!” I exclaimed excitedly, “I would even argue that it might be too much. Are you sure you don’t want me to pay rent?” The wolf chuckled fondly and shook his head, carefully setting my bag down on the sofa.

“Of course not, Y/N,” he rumbled back, “The space is here and it just collects dust, or someone comes here to- to sulk. They sometimes come here to sulk.” From the corner of my eye I saw the hybrid blush again as Seokjin jabbed his side with his elbow, but I paid them no mind, completely enthralled by a beautiful set of a wardrobe and drawers made from massive dark wood and carved beautifully with flowering vines that was standing next to the door.

“What Namjoon’s trying to say is,” Seokjin took over with a twitchy smile, “that we’ll be glad to know someone’s properly loving the space and taking care of it.” I returned the smile and walked deeper into the room.

“I tried to deep clean it yesterday so you could sleep here, but it might not be perfect,” the bear hybrid continued, rounded ears cutely flicking around and following my movements, “but I’m sure that tomorrow we can finish it all together. Hoseok promised to help as well.” Namjoon visibly perked up at the mention of that name and turned to me from where he was zoning out.

“Oh, speaking of which,” he exclaimed and motioned for me to follow them back down, “He’s waiting for us down in the office.”

By the office he meant the space down in the basement, where Hoseok occupied one of the desks, currently sitting down with one of the chunky phones pressed to his ear and diligently jotting something into a notebook.

We politely waited for him to be done, through with all the pleasantries, and then he happily jumped up from the table, pure unfiltered joy pouring out of him as he waved the little notebook about.

“A client?” Seokjin asked, eyes wide with hope, and smiled bright when Hoseok nodded. The men all huddled around the desk, muttering to each other things I couldn’t hear properly while I awkwardly stood around and shuffled from foot to foot. Thankfully it took maybe only a minute before Namjoon realised I came in with them and he whirled around with a guilty expression, tugging the notebook out of the fox’s hands and pulling me closer to the desk.

“Actually hyung, we came here to deliver your newbie,” he said and said man grinned at me blindingly, until I almost forgot anything except for the fact that I was so damn happy to be here.

“I’ll be something of a direct superior of yours, sort of,” Hoseok explained gently, dragging me over to sit me down at his desk.

“We don’t really have any kind of hierarchy, but Hobi’s the most organised by far, so this all is his domain,” Seokjin explained, gesturing with wide arms over the basement. When I turned back to the fox I felt the awe that must have been reflected in my eyes, and the hybrid blushed, turning his head slightly to the side while Namjoon snickered somewhere behind us.

“Everybody helps, but I mostly oversee everything, just to make sure,” he explained further as he leaned his hip on the desk to be more comfortable.

“He’ll be the one telling you what needs to be done and where you could be useful. Or me. Or Jin-hyung,” Namjoon added and smiled at my expression as I tried to commit everything to memory.

“Just whatever happens, don’t listen to anything the maknaes say,” Hoseok warned and I nodded eagerly until they all giggled at me.

“Well,” Namjoon started and looked to Seokjin who immediately nodded, both of them backing away towards the stairs, “We’ll leave you to it.” I couldn’t help but notice that the little notebook containing info about their new client stayed safely tucked away in Namjoon’s hand, far away from me, and my ears and eyes.

“Right,” Hoseok’s voice tore me out of my reverie, and I turned back to him only to see him looking around the basement in contemplation, lip caught between his teeth as he pondered. Then he jumped up and started walking towards the filing cabinets.

“Come, I’ll show you the system I use for categorisation. And please, call me Hobi.”

The first two weeks I spent with my new company in the new house were quite uneventful. The client that had called was swiftly dealt with only two days later, and only Namjoon and Jimin went, leading me to believe it must have been some weak shade.

Type 1 ghosts, the weakest ones, were usually the kind that started off the season of death, as it was so colloquially called, and mostly didn’t demand much manpower. They weren’t as dangerous, well, as far as ghosts could go – it was very unusual for them to show any kind of killing intent, but even a peaceful ghost’s touch could be deadly.

That was something that was drilled into us endlessly in school – both kids with talent and without – to never get close to a ghost, never let it touch you, and run away as fast as possible and get an adult.

It was the general rule everyone except for operatives abided by – unless they wanted a slow painful death of rot and decomposition to spread through their body from the place of contact, until it pumped their veins with poison and claimed their heart. It was a gruesome death, and it was terrible to witness. Sometimes you could be saved with a couple of shots of adrenaline or a swifty amputation, but vital places – head, chest, stomach – were lethal.

And it was the number one killer of both adults and children in the world.

But the sting of secrecy of that first case was dulled by the fact that no one except for Namjoon, Jimin and Hoseok cared much for it, and it was dealt with within two hours.

I spent those days with curious glances burnt into my back as I mostly silently followed Hobi around and listened to his instructions wherever we came upon something new. I helped him and Taehyung clean down in the basement, I sat next to him as he showed me how to properly fill out forms we’d need, or how to file new cases (of which none came). I even felt guilty enough for not having anything to help with to earn my keep that I insisted on helping with gathering the fallen leaves in the garden, and with flaming cheeks made Yoongi let me help him cook every evening (even though I was a disaster in the kitchen and often got reprimanding looks from the tiger hybrid).

Most of the time though we went endlessly again and again through the little storage in the basement and made sure we were fully stocked up and ready to head out for a case if needed.

It meant hours upon hours of sitting in a steadily colder and colder windowless room, wading through kilos of salt and iron fillings, checking the magnesium flares to see they were properly stored, preparing salt and iron bombs, oiling and caring for iron chains that were used for protective circles, sharpening rapiers and similar.

And as much Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook whined about Hobi forcing them to do it every two days even though we saw no business, I completely understood the red fox.

Face to face to a ghost, there weren’t many things that could save you or protect you, except for your rapier and a belt filled with these helpers. One too many operatives had died because they hadn’t checked they packed everything or that it was functional.

Magnesium flares when unused sometimes became a hazard and could burn a whole house down, salt and iron bombs sometimes crystallised shut when improperly stored. Chains when left alone rusted and stuck together. When the crucial moment came, even a second delay in a flare going off could mean sure death.

So I happily spent my time in the basement, checking the boys’ belts and bags to make absolutely sure that when they left, they would also return. And sometimes it would turn into training as well, Hobi dragging us into the neighbouring room and spending long hours laughing in the ring, watching the men fight with big smiles on their faces.

It was exactly two weeks into my quite uneventful stay when Namjoon poked his head into the green room where I was sulking by the fire. That day Hobi had no tasks for me, and I took to getting in Yoongi’s way in the kitchen, attempting to help until Jin was laughing at the exasperated tiger and I ended up being exiled into the sitting room. Jimin had briefly stopped by to snicker at me and then he was gone in a flurry of giggles, leaving me to my gloom.

I had wanted to follow him, to go with him and play with the other maknaes as Yoongi and Jin all called us, but I was being too shy to approach them outside of work responsibilities, and judging by their hesitant smiles, they were having the same problem.

So Namjoon walked in on me sullenly poking into the fire with a stick, watching the embers fly through the air and listening to the crackle of the wood, all on my lonesome.

“Hey,” he said with that gentle timbre, and I immediately perked up, “your gear just got here.” If Namjoon found funny the way I promptly jumped to my feet and ran through the house towards the basement... well I didn’t really stick around long enough to find out whether he laughed, but he sure came down behind me with a big grin on his face.

We ordered my own gear a few days back, Jin dragging me down here and measuring me with excruciating detail to make sure it fit as best as possible, and it might have been the crankiest I’ve gotten around the eldest of the pack as we continuously bickered about which size should be ordered, especially the shoes. But Jin took my attitude with grace (got sassy and told me I’m just like Jungkook, which at that moment didn’t feel much like a compliment), so all was well in the end.

“Do you want me to call Jin-hyung?” Namjoon asked, mischief written into his soft round face, and I immediately shook my head.

“I don’t think I’d survive if he’s proven right live,” I said and shuddered at the thought of his smug smirk whenever we had to admit we were in the wrong. I’d seen it around a few times during the two weeks, even once from Yoongi, which Jimin later told me was quite the feat. Apparently the stubborn tiger would rather lose his own hand than admit anything. “Let’s not tell him if it fits as well as he thought.”

Namjoon behind me snickered and pretended as if he was locking his mouth and throwing away the key, before he pulled a big cardboard box onto Hobi’s table.

“You catch up fast,” he teased with a big smile, “first rule of surviving here – Jin-hyung is scarier than anything that might be lurking outside during the night.” I scoffed at that, but didn’t dispute it, instead choosing to get to opening the box.

The uniform of an operative is quite simple really – we mostly wore combat shoes with silver tip and iron interladed soles, cargo pants made from thick cotton that didn’t tear easily and special long-sleeved t-shirts that fit like second skin and it was virtually impossible to destroy them unless you got stabbed. Then of course, seasonal additions like sweaters or jackets or gloves. But these were the basics.

The pack didn’t hesitate to spend money on me, and I had to admit that that night it brought some tears to me eyes, knowing they were counting on me to stay with them that long. It was a heart-warming moment for me, as it felt like I was truly expected to take my place in their ranks and not only serve them coffee forever (which some other agencies loved to do with younger recruits – which, I wasn’t even that young, not for an operative anyway).

So now I was pulling out three sets of each, enough to be able to comfortably swap between them during laundry, and to not have the fear that if some unfortunate accident befell my uniform, I didn’t have to fear not having anything else. I promised the man that the next batch I’d already buy from the money I earned, but he just smiled and said nothing, warm eyes fondly watching me and Jin drag Hobi into our squabble.

Now, putting them on, I felt like an investigator more than I ever had in my old torn jeans and washed out hand-me-down hoodie I’d worn up in the north.

The memories that flooded my brain brought a bit of melancholy to my heart and I thought back to my parents, or my PI friends – all the people I haven’t spoken to since I ran down here. Some that I’d never get the chance to speak to ever again.

“They fit perfectly,” I called from the small bathroom, door cracked open just enough for my voice to carry unobstructed, and I hoped Namjoon didn’t hear the tinge of sadness colouring it now, “of course they fucking do.” The last part was muttered softly under my breath, but judging from the chuckle in the other room, the wolf heard me nonetheless.

Bundling the clothes back into the box and leaving it by the desk for tomorrow’s me to deal with, we both slowly started back into the living spaces, and my palms slowly grew clammy.

“Hey Namjoon?” I said somewhat unsteadily, and watched his ears perk up before he turned to me. Perhaps sensing my nerves, the wolf gently smiled, his scent mellowing and covering me with a blanket of safe warm feelings.

“Could I maybe use the landline for personal calls?”

The hybrid looked at me confused for a moment, like he was computing that this was the only thing I truly wanted, before his expression melted into compassion.

“Y/N, of course you can,” he told me gently, “you can use anything in the house. Including the library, if you’re ever bored.” I blushed at the knowing look in his eyes, and wondered which of his hyungs told on me. Probably Yoongi, that snitch. And I thought we’d have feline hybrids solidarity. I chuckled at his words and nodded, now more embarrassed than shy.

Having his blessing, I circled back to the basement and took a seat at one of the tables where I never saw anyone else sit, leaving Namjoon to return on his own.

The old plastic phone felt familiar in my hand, as I grew up in a place where technology stayed in the 90s. Well, most of other things did as well, to be perfectly honest. The number I was calling was burned into my memory, I’d probably be able to recite it even on my death bed (though for operatives that didn’t have to mean that long).

The line crackled for a moment before a tired “hello?” rang though my ears.

“Mom,” I realised too late that my voice came out wet, the heavy knot of emotions stuck in my throat at hearing her voice again after such a long while, and there was a similarly emotional intake of breath on the other side.

“Oh, darling,” the happy voice said, suddenly all tiredness gone from it, a youthfulness sounding through that made me think back to my childhood, “how’s the city treating you?”

“Good, I found a good pa- I mean I found a good agency, I’m with them now. Working. Working with them,” I stumbled through the sentence, blushy and teary-eyed, and I swore I could hear laughter upstairs.

“Are they taking good care of you, my baby?” she asked, her voice so warm and receptive I wanted to crawl through the phone and wrap myself into it. I nodded, and then rushed to assure her when I realised she couldn’t see me.

“How’s everyone? Dad? Jiwoo? What about Daiyu? How is she?” The barrage of questions spilled out of me in one breath and on the other side I heard my mom giggle quietly.

“Dad’s dad, still the same,” she started, love and amusement dripping from her voice, “you know how he gets when autumn comes. I’ve barely even seen him, he spends all his time in the garden.” I chuckled at that, the image of my father in his old jeans that were more mending patches than the original pants, lovingly tending to his bushes and plants, preparing them for the tough season ahead, was burned into my memory from having it seen every autumn. He was a silent man, but every time he stepped out, you could see the love and gentleness shine through when he looked at “nature’s gifts”, as he put it.

“Jiwoo is also as he’s always been,” mum continued, voice sounding lighter and more joyful with every word spoken, “as stubborn as a mule, like any teenage boy. Running around the mountains with his friends, I barely even see him.”

A phone in the hall upstairs started ringing, and I could hear the beeps interrupting through the call I was currently in, so I quickly clicked the other line to keep the call running. Running footsteps thundered right above me, the excitement palpable through them, and then I could hear Hoseok’s muffled voice as he answered it.

“And Daiyu…” there my mother hesitated for a moment, unaware of my split attention, and I forced myself back into listening to her, “Well, I think she’s doing quite well, all things considered. You should give her a call too, darling, I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”

I hummed, but even as I tried to come up with a response, I could feel my ear twitching with the strain of listening on the call currently happening a hall above me, but to no avail. Everything Hoseok said blended into an undecipherable buzz, all the words melting into each other.

“Y/N? Darling?”

“Yes, mum, yes, I’m here,” I squeezed out quickly, turning away from the door as if would stop me from eavesdropping, “I’ll give her a call, just… I gotta run now.” There was a bit of silence on the other side, underlined with how suddenly the house fell silent too, and then my mother hummed. But it was the kind of hum that told me she had much more to say, yet chose not to, and I sighed.

“It’s not like that..” I said quickly, trying to put stop to anything she might be thinking now, but she only hummed again, in the way mothers did when they thought they knew better than you did, and I already knew that battle was lost. With a fond sigh, I decided to just let it go.

“Look mum, I have to go, I think we just got a call from a client,” I told her, and thankfully she got the hint, and with an amused sigh she let it go as well.

“Alright then, my dear,” she said lightly, just a twinge of longing creeping into her voice, and it pierced my heart painfully enough to almost rob me of my breath.

“I’m gonna call again soon, mum,” I reassured her quickly, jumping in before she got another word out, “My- my- Employer… my employer said I could use the phones as I needed! I’ll call again soon..” I got a little stuttered up over how to call Namjoon, but if she thought it was weird, at least she didn’t see the way I lit up with a mighty blush over the slip-up I almost had; for there was another word dangerously close to slipping out, one that was very not appropriate for me to use.

And I hoped that the sound didn’t spread as easily upstairs, and I wouldn’t hear a fresh batch of teasing, now with the wolf hybrid instead of Yoongi.

“Well, I’ll hear from you soon,” her quiet voice carried over, “I love you, my darling.” I smiled to myself, probably looking like a right love-sick fool.

“I love you too, mummy,” I whispered back, “Be well.” She lingered for a moment longer, I heard her quiet breaths on the other side of the line, and then there was a quiet click of her setting the phone down, and then only continuous beeps.

I took some time to take a few deep breaths, stabilising myself a little before my first shaky steps back towards the stairs.

The hall was empty when I made it back up, but I heard excitable chatter coming from the direction of the sitting rooms, so if I had to guess, whoever was here was probably all huddled up in the green room by the fire, stealing my spot.

I ran up a little, taking quick bouncy steps, both rejuvenated by the call and excited for potentially getting to do some ghost busting.

And I sure wasn’t the only one, because when I ran into the room, it turned out that everyone was already there – the whole pack, sitting around and peeking into Hoseok’s hands, where the black notebook was clutched.

He was just in the middle of saying something when I zoomed in, but got stuttered up upon seeing me full energy like that. Yoongi was standing by his shoulder, and upon my fiery exit looked up only to smirk my way, eyes cheekily taking me in. I cursed my ears and tail for flicking up eagerly, but it felt less embarrassing when his did the same, and it wasn’t enough to make the grin slide off of my face, so I just ignored Jimin’s teasing (evil) snickers and moved into the room.

Just for a split second I worried I might have not been fully welcomed in on the discussion – Hoseok seemed to have already started talking, everybody was present except for me – but then Namjoon smiled and waved me over, vacating his spot on the couch so that I could settle myself right between Taehyung and Jungkook while he stood over us, leaning on the head rest.

“I was just about to go get you,” he said in the warm tone of his, and I relaxed into the soft pillows immediately. I looked towards the red fox, who was sitting in the armchair in front of me, eyes lit up like he just got the best news ever. He looked towards me too and smiled so brightly it was almost blinding.

“We got a client. And this one’s gonna be a doozy.”

Seokjin was nervously fluffing up the pillows for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, and I could see that I wasn’t the only one whose nerves were getting grated by that, but since the bear was so sincere and hopeful about it, none of us dared to say anything. Most of the time Kim Seokjin was a man that would put fear of God into you within seconds, but when it came to customers, he’d almost turn cute.

Not that I’d dare say that out loud to him.

“Cute,” teased Hoseok, and I immediately flushed. Seokjin turned to him with a disapproving tsk, but there was a red hue on his cheeks, and for a moment I was caught marvelling at such a rare sight. Obviously, the consensus about Seokjin’s pre-visit habits was pretty clear around here.

Like when I had my job interview, the only ones present were the three hybrids that seemed to be the most involved with running the company – Seokjin, Namjoon and Hoseok, with the addition of me to take notes. Though, all the others were around too, and I knew they were anxiously waiting to listen in as soon as the customer arrived.

Thankfully, the torture of watching Seokjin pace the room one more time to fluff the pillows one more time was cut short with a sound of the bell thundering through the suddenly unnaturally silent house.

I watched as the red fox jumped to his feet, ears flicking with attention towards the door as his tail nervously swung about in a manner that would soon become dangerous to stand too close to. Namjoon seemed to have petrified, standing woodenly with an awkward smile, and I would almost giggle at the sight if not for the aura of nerves engulfing everything.

Seokjin was already toying with the silver tea kettle as Hoseok tripped over himself and then over the armchair in a mad race to the front door. I had an abrupt flashback to our first meeting – to how eager he was to a point he stressed me out, and I promptly stood up into his way to try and curb his energy.

He was probably just too focused on getting to the door, that would explain why he didn’t fully notice me at first, not until I was already too close and in an attempt to stop he instead slipped on the squeaky clean wooden floors and barrelled right into me.

A moment of weightlessness was all I registered before suddenly gravity pulled hard, and before I knew it, I was sprawled over the brown room’s floor with Hoseok’s extremely red face planted right into my chest.

Everything stilled for a few extremely tense seconds before the fox was jumping off of me with a loud embarrassed scream, the sound enough to summon everyone, and I meant everyone, to run into the hall to witness me lying on my back on the floor like a beached whale while Hoseok buried his entire upper body into the armchair like an ostrich its head into the sand.

One look at the two other present hybrids told me all I had to know. Namjoon stood there with face as red as a lobster and looking absolutely horrified, while Seokjin had his hand over his mouth, though his eyes were crinkled with silent laughter.

I rather didn’t even look towards the others, instead I quickly climbed back onto my feet as a second bell rung through the house. No one said anything. Yoongi was laughing. Loudly.

“Okay,” I took charge of the situation, “Hoseok, calm down and get some shoes. Namjoon you too. Calm down, I mean.” Then I turned to the four other very entertained hybrids and narrowed my eyes. “Everybody else scram. I’m gonna open the door and when I walk into here with the client, you’ll be relaxed and professional, alright?”

Without waiting for a reply, I turned with my face still burning and stalked toward the main entrance. Though, I heard the patter of feet running quietly away and Seokjin muttering “we have to work on this part” under his breath, so it was safe to assume they took me bossing them around better than I hoped they would.

With a deep breath I steadied myself, slipping into the more customer friendly demeanour and opened the door with an amicable smile.

And older lady stood there. She very obviously came from money, everything about her screamed wealth – from her elegant black dress with lace collar, to the golden brooch with a blood red ruby that was pinned the lace, to her grey hair slicked back into a tight hairdo at the back of her head. She had quite a strict face, not necessarily unfriendly, but definitely not open, and she leaned on a black walking stick quite heavily.

There was a middle-aged man supporting her from the other side, probably her son by the age. He looked considerably more approachable, so I forced myself to relax and invited them in with a broad gesture.

“Welcome to Bangtan Inc., paranormal investigations,” I said with a cheery voice, “I apologise for the wait.” I didn’t offer them any explanation because, well frankly I didn’t have one, and I found that people rarely asked for more details for fear of looking rude.

“Good afternoon,” the man replied pleasantly, but the older woman stayed silent. She didn’t look very happy with us, but by her presumed son’s nonchalant attitude, I supposed she might have just been one of those ladies.

“Terribly good weather this afternoon,” the man continued, looking out to the sky which was a light steely grey, but the temperature was pleasant and stray rays of sunshine did make it through. I smiled at him and nodded.

“Quite, though it is supposed to get colder. After all, we are nearing the end of September.”

I offered to help with coats, but the lady let the man help her, and he seemed more than happy to help himself with his own, so I just waited for them to hand them to me so that I could hang them up. The lady seemed to be pleased with that at least, and I was glad I maybe turned around the fact that they had to wait outside for such a while.

The heels of their shoes clicked on the floor as I led them down the hallway with another broad gesture to follow me. I saw them both look around with wide eyes, taking in the old grandeur of the house. With a bit of a sinking heart I recognised open surprise in their eyes, and they were no doubt shocked that hybrids lived so well.

Momentarily I worried for what we’d have to hear from them today, but I didn’t have much time to ponder that, as we rounded the corner into the brown room and got hit with the sight of the three hybrids waiting.

Compared to the disaster I left behind me, now they looked perfectly put together and professional. Namjoon’s shoulders weren’t as stiff as before as he gave the newcomers a very enchanting smile, immediately charming the pants right off of the lady who seemed to have melted into a blushing schoolgirl upon being met with the wolf. Discreetly I thought to myself that I perfectly understood her.

Seokjin stood next to him, as handsome as ever, while Hoseok, now also considerably calmer, stepped forward with his hand outstretched, a blinding smile splitting his face almost in half.

“Welcome! My name’s Jung Hoseok, we spoke on the phone,” his voice was smooth and cheery, and as my eyes slid downwards, with relief I saw that he indeed did put on shoes.

The usual pleasantries took place, and I left them to it, only getting a little startled when Namjoon gestured towards me as I fussed in the corner about the chair I dragged over before to take notes without interrupting and said: “and that’s our assistant, Ms. Y/N.” With a slightly awkward smile I shook their hands as well, and the atmosphere relaxed a little.

Just as I was looking over the notepad just one more time to make sure everything was ready for me to write down, another call of my name startled me into paying attention to the interaction.

“Y/N will bring it right over!” Seokjin just said, and upon my confused glance, he gestured to the empty table. The tea kettle was gone, I belatedly realised, and I jumped to my feet and scurried off into the kitchen.

Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook were all sitting around the dining table munching on something, probably sandwiches as Yoongi made those quite often when we whined about being hungry, while the man himself stood by one of the kitchen windows smoking.

I ran in, scaring the shit out of the three eating hybrids and earning a chuckle from the tiger, while I panicked and looked around while whisper-screaming “tea!” the whole time.

“Calm down, darling, it’s here,” Yoongi walked over to the kitchen counter, the teapot sitting there and mocking me as I sulked over to the black-haired man.

“Why’s it even back here?” I asked him, now considerably less frantic as I watched him put the kettle on, his quick skilful fingers arranging new teabags and fresh biscuits on to the tray. He scoffed, but it was a fond sound. He often sounded that way when talking about Seokjin, though you’d never get him to admit it.

“You know how hyung gets,” the tiger teased, a light smirk playing on his face, “in the time it took you to walk from the door to the sitting room he managed to panic that the tea would already be tasting bad and thought it would look better if you brought over fresh one.” There were some giggles from the dining room table, but I found I didn’t want to turn away from Yoongi working in the kitchen. So, I kept my eyes glued to the man, slowly taking in how his tail started swishing around in much more playful manner than it usually did.

And I knew I was in trouble, because he’d never miss a chance to tease me, especially not in front of the maknaes. Especially not in front of Jimin, that little devil.

Yoongi poured the hot water into the decorative teapot, arranging it onto the tray for me to carry, and as he turned, he reached over to pet my hair, taking the moment to curl his fingers right behind my ear slightly, as if he was going to scratch there but changed his mind.

I flushed, terribly so might I add, and the bastard smirked. I felt my ear twitch needily, the little traitor, and I mentally scolded it.

Grabbing the tray, I ignored everyone in the room and stomped my way back to the brown room, pointedly not looking any of the three other hybrids in the face, which I knew was noticed by the way Seokjin was trying to conceal his laughter by turning away.

The clients thankfully seemed blissfully unaware, distracted by the refreshments, and I took the moment to decompress into my seat and stubbornly keep my eyes on my notes, even though I saw the way Hoseok curiously glanced my way and grinned upon seeing how red I was.

Quickly the atmosphere sobered though, as the two incomers finally settled down into their chairs, ready to share their ghost story.

“So, Mrs. Carter, you’ve mentioned a spectre in your garden, yes?” Seokjin started, trying not to sound too eager, as that usually scared normal folk away. We had to get every little detail out of them though, and that wasn’t easy. Not just because they didn’t see much, but because they generally didn’t like to talk about apparitions.

As if not mentioning them would erase the danger they posed out of existence.

“Well, yes,” the lady, Mrs. Carter, drawled out with a thick posh accent, “It is in the back of the garden, yes, been there for decades too.” The man nodded, and that was quite a shock to us.

“For decades?” Namjoon asked, absolutely flabbergasted, “have you never thought to get rid of it before?” The old woman simply nodded, clutching the walking stick in her hands, habitually drumming her fingers on the polished wood.

“I didn’t particularly care for it,” she answered again in that slightly detached way of talking that wealthy people sometimes adopted, “It’s been just me and my husband for a long time, and we knew not to go into that part of the garden, and all the staff leaves before sundown as is law.” She shrugged, and the man sighed, pinching the root of his nose.

“I’ve been telling mother for years to do something about it,” he told us, exasperated while the woman seemed cheekily unperturbed, much in the way that spoke of just how old the argument truly was, “It’s just plain dangerous and irresponsible.”

“It wasn’t doing anything to anyone,” she replied stubbornly, “but now my nieces have started visiting. Even with all the precautions, I cannot let it stay. Children never listen, especially to those things that you stress the most that they need to listen to. I need the garden to be safe for them.” She seemed to melt a little at the mention of the little girls, something warmer creeping into her gaze as she glanced at her son.

We all sat there and listened to them go back and forth quietly, taking in the details – and each of us seemed to have different questions. I was mainly amazed how she spoke of a very dangerous ghost as if it was just a tenant paying rent to use her garden, and not the accident waiting to happen it truly was.

Hoseok had other concerns, and that’s why he was the one asking the questions.

“Wasn’t doing anything to anyone?” he enquired, leaning forward to them in interest, “Would you be able to describe it a little? Or even if there are any feelings connected to the haunting? Does it have any habits?” The barrage of questions that spilled out of him clearly surprised and overwhelmed the duo, and they looked to each other for help.

“Feelings?” was all that Mrs. Carter said in the end though, looking to the fox confusedly.

“Well, like for an example, when you are in the area, do you feel a certain way?” Seokjin jumped in, sensing his packmate was likely getting a little too excited again, “Do you feel uncomfortable and unsafe? Do you feel sad?”

“Hauntings can sometimes influence our feelings,” Namjoon carried on, explaining gently to the two humans, “It can help the operatives guess the type of the spectre, or its strength and motives. If every time you walk through the part of the garden you suddenly feel unsafe, it could speak of dangerous intentions. If there only is a sudden wave of sadness, it could mean a weaker shade.”

The two visitors sat in silence for a moment, pondering over their experiences with the haunting, while we sat there and waited with bated breaths.

Getting details out of human adults was always the hardest part of these initial interviews. Children at least usually were a little more sensitive to the unknown, sometimes even seeing the apparitions clearly, but adults were mostly blind. They could only rely on the emotions that gripped them while encountering a ghost, and those were normally drowned out by fear and panic.

Not that anyone could blame them – even operatives had that instinct to turn and run, we’d be insane if we didn’t.

But given that they seemed to have been aware of this haunting for decades, there was hope a little more information would come out of them.

In the worst case scenario we could swallow our pride and ask whether she currently hired any hybrids on her staff to ask them, though hybrids not involved in the PI business hated to be associated with it. Our supernatural senses hung above our heads like curses, and some just wanted to be as far away from that as possible, yet unable to escape it fully.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t feel too friendly, but I’ve never felt in any danger,” the old lady drawled out, voice a little thin as she was lost in her own thoughts and memories. Her son seemed similarly drowned in his own musings, sitting silently beside her with a pale face and a strange look.

“Have you ever seen it?” came Seokjin’s next question and the lady snorted in good humour.

“Of course I haven’t seen it, how could I?” her answer was amused, but it still ruffled some feathers, as I saw Hoseok’s smile twitch on his face in slight annoyance. Seokjin stared at her, incredulous, though she was very oblivious to that with her face buried in her teacup. Namjoon once more chose this moment to step in and smooth the situation over before Jin’s patience ran out and he reverted to his usual steam-roller self.

“Well, yes, we aren’t expecting you to see it clearly, but humans sometimes report seeing a little,” the wolf inserted himself into the tense atmosphere, “it doesn’t have to be a full apparition, but maybe a shape, fog or even spots of darkness, anything like that can be helpful to us.”

The woman hummed, once again reverting into her memories to search for anything to tell us, but by the pinched expression on her face we could all already tell that if she ever saw it, she’s already forgotten or supressed it from her mind.

My ears fluttered as they caught the quiet sigh of disappointment let out by Hobi right before he started preparing to ask more questions that would most likely lead nowhere, as was usually the case with older humans. My eyes were still glued to Mr. Carter sitting woodenly next to his mother though, and just as Hobi opened his mouth, without thinking I jumped in.

“Mr. Carter, have you ever seen it? As a child?” The man startled at hearing his name, and the entire room’s attention was suddenly on me. I flushed for a moment sensing the other hybrid’s eyes, but I took the chance to speak even though I probably wasn’t supposed to.

Redirecting my gaze back to the wide eyes of the surprised human, I could see some cracks of guilt in his expression.

“Of course I haven’t, young miss!” he rushed out, face reddening and twisting slightly as if I gravelly insulted him, “Children have no business chasing after ghosts, and I knew that!” I chanced a glance at my employers, all of whom seemed very interested in the current conversation, no doubt sensing the opportunity as well.

Namjoon gestured for me to continue, and I breathed out in relief before turning to our guests again.

“Well, of course, I am not doubting your common sense, but as Mrs. Carter said a few moments ago, children often find these things curious. Ghosts and the supernatural, the more you discourage them, the more they want to see,” I argued softly, trying to talk him away from the edge he psyched himself onto.

In that moment even though he must have been at least fifty years old, there was something very boyish in his face – that second he turned back into a little kid, afraid of the consequences of his parents anger after breaking one of their rules, and I knew I struck gold. Children rarely listened, which was unfortunately why they died of ghost touch so much. It has always been a very sad statistic, one that Mr. Carter no doubt almost added onto himself.

He took one guilty look towards his mother who has been watching him with a curious glint in her eyes, not unkind but definitely exasperated at knowing her son was tempting fate like that without her knowledge, but she still gestured for him to tell the truth.

With the aura of a scolded schoolboy he turned back to the room and sighed.

“It was when I was sixteen,” he started sheepishly, face red now from embarrassment more than the anger of getting caught red-handed, “the ghost just appeared the winter prior, but I was away at my boarding school. When I returned, I was informed of its presence and the back part of the garden was closed off for safety. I was curious, though.” I nodded at him, to encourage him and soothe the sting of childish foolishness.

“Trust me Mr. Carter, that’s very normal,” Namjoon stated kindly and gave the man a smile, one that had even me relaxing in my chair, tail curling along the chair legs in search of a cozy cuddle, which I stubbornly ignored, just as I did anything else pertaining to the strange reactions these men managed to bring out in me. Especially the kind wolf and the cheeky tiger.

“Yes, indeed, children are always drawn to things and places like that,” Seokjin joined in and poured the man another cup of tea, “Even we got up to similar foolish shenanigans. Some of us never grew out of it.” The last part was pointed towards those who listened in, and I could almost hear the complaining grumble from Jungkook and Taehyung sitting in the kitchen as they argued over who invited more trouble.

Schooling my features, I looked back to the somewhat appeased human and watched him grow more comfortable in the armchair.

“I did the stupidest thing I could think of,” the man admitted, “I sneaked out during the night. It was early autumn, just like it is now, and I crept through the gardens towards the back-end corner, where it was seen. At first there was nothing out of ordinary. It was pretty cold outside, but it was September, so I thought nothing of it.”

I hummed non-commitally, jotting down what he was saying into my notepad which was slowly filling up. Hobi cleared his throat, but otherwise listened to the story with unrestrained focus.

“Well, that didn’t last for long though,” if the statement wasn’t ominous enough, the look of sheer terror that crossed Mr. Carter’s face was definitely sufficient, “I mean, to this day I am not completely sure what I saw. At first there was nothing, but then I suddenly started feeling unprecedented fear, absolute panic and terror, seemingly without a reason. I stood in the middle of the garden, alone as far as I knew, paralysed with horror. I didn’t know what to do. Then it started to appear. I noticed that there was a spot of darkness that felt unnatural, but slowly it turned into a vague shape. I couldn’t see many details, but it was a man. I watched it slink closer for a few seconds before the panic managed to override my body and I stumbled away. I’ve never tempted fate like that again.”

There was a moment of silence as the information shared sunk in, only broken by the quiet scratch of my pen as I wrote the details down before I forgot. When I looked up, I could almost see the wheels turning in Namjoon’s head and the calculations Hobi and Jin were making in their minds.

“So that’s why you insisted so much about us getting rid of the visitor,” the old woman mused finally, breaking the spell with her sad voice, “I’m sorry we never listened to you.”

“You said you saw it slightly, would you maybe be able to tell me what kind of clothes the man was wearing? Any guess about the period?” Namjoon’s questions shot through the tender moment, and it was obvious the wolf was miles away, probably thinking about the trip to the archives he’d have to make after this visit.

The guests didn’t seem to be too ruffled by his slightly awkward interruption and the man dipped back into that terrifying memory.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can give you anything more specific,” he stated apologetically, wringing his hands out in his lap, “but they were definitely what I would describe as old-timey clothes. Like a Victorian gentleman maybe.”

Awesome, so it was a vindictive Victorian man-ghost, those were always so much fun. I added the information onto the paper and hummed, the three other hybrids taking over the conversation once more and asking for some details, details we were always hoping for but rarely managed to get out of people.

Suddenly, the rest of the visit was over in a flash. Hoseok and Seokjin discussed money, and the lady seemed more than happy to pay us whatever to make sure her garden was safe for her family, especially after her son’s tearful admission that he himself came a little too close to death when disobeying her word.

As they were filing out of our house, slowly shrugging on coats while the four of us stood there and watched with polite awkward smiles, the man turned to me and leaned over discreetly.

“I’ve always felt so much shame for what I did,” he confessed, “I never really went against my parents. At the time it felt like a long overdue rebellion, but it almost ended with my death. I was so stupid, and when faced with danger, I just froze helplessly. At least it thought me to stray away from dangerous situations.” I gave him a gentle smile, hand automatically rising to pat at his shoulder to comfort him.

“Mr. Carter, trust me, kids just are that way, you weren’t any worse or different from heaps of other teenagers chasing a little adrenaline,” I assured him, thinking back to my own stunts that I pulled in the seemingly endless acres of haunted woods around our little village, “You got lucky though, you left the encounter alive. But don’t beat yourself up over freezing up, that’s a common side-effect of a sighting. Operatives are susceptible to it as well and it takes years of training to not get affected by it.”

The man looked to me in surprise and I was honestly shocked he wasn’t aware of such a thing. Didn’t humans learn about visitors as well?

“Were you not aware of that?” I asked with a melodious giggle, easing the human a little before he sheepishly shook his head.

“No, I always assumed I was just a special breed of coward,” he admitted quietly, the statement getting lost under his mother’s fussing as Namjoon offered to help her down the steep damp stone stairs, the woman accepting his arm with a blush and shy smile, which was an expression especially alien to her face.

“No, it’s called a ghost-lock and it’s common, besides there’s nothing cowardly about being afraid when coming face to face with death,” I whispered conspiratorially, bumping our shoulders together like we were naughty school-mates sharing a secret, “only a fool wouldn’t be scared.”

A youthful expression crossed his face as he grinned at me, and suddenly he looked nothing like a worried fifty-year-old father of a couple of girls and everything like a cheeky boy whose burdened heart finally got the rest it needed.

His fingers flew up to his head, tipping an imaginary hat in my direction as he thanked me for my kind words and for our services, before he turned and jogged down the stairs to catch up with his mother, who was already half-way to the gate, still hanging onto Namjoon’s strong frame.

“- you know, I was against my husband in that regard, and I’m glad I disagreed with him,” she was just chattering to him, and the wolf wore an awkward smile on his face, a quiet discomfort oozing off of him as Jin and Hobi walked woodenly next to her.

“I always told him, I have nothing against those hybrids, and they’re here in the neighbourhood,” the woman continued on totally unaware to the rising unease of her companions, “why drag ourselves through the city, when we can just walk down a couple streets! But he’s a stubborn man, that Jacob of mine. Well, I’ll be proven right, just like I always am, when he meets you and finds out that you’re such stand-up gentlemen!”

There were some half-hearted mutters of thanks, the three men exchanging wide-eyed stares before Mr. Carter finally caught up and took over, grabbing his mother’s hand and gently pulling her away from the tall hybrid, to the wolf’s relief. I saw a flicker of displeasure at being separated from her new-found young love, but she quickly found her own footing and suddenly very speedily made her way towards the gate and out on the street.

I watched them go amusedly, seeing the three flustered hybrids standing there and looking off after the spirited old lady. Well, at least she was one of those old people.

thank you so much for reading, and i hoped you liked the chapter! don't be shy and let me know what you thought <3

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trickphotography2 · 1 year ago

Text

(Every Step You Take) I'll Be Watching You

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x female!reader (Evie)

Word count: 6.2k

Synopsis: Bob disliked Friday team nights at The Hard Deck but knows they're important to the squad. That is, he disliked them until Penny hires a new summer bartender who gently pushes him to try new things. But when he comes in to find the police asking for her, the last thing he expected was to find himself protecting Evie. Trigger warnings: stalking, attempted assault

Written for @roosterforme's '80s Rocktober Playlist challenge.

Prompt: Every Breath You Take by The Police

Master List | Ao3

----------------------------------------------------

The Hard Deck slowly filled with the usual Friday afternoon crowd, the noise level increasing as Bob crushed peanut shells between his fingers. He’d never been one for the bar scene, but team cohesion was necessary, and this was where the Daggers had decided was home. He could put up with a regular night out if it meant better dynamics in the air.

“Who's ready for another round?” Fanboy asked, holding up his empty beer bottle. There was a handful of answers, and Bob quickly stood.

“I’ll get it,” he said, eyes darting to the bar. It was still early enough that it wasn’t swamped with patrons, the perfect time for him to make the run. He’d always had a hard time with crowds. Some of that had been trained out of him by the Navy, but he avoided them when he could. That was one of the things he loved about being up in the air - the knowledge that it was just him and the pilot, that he could focus on his job instead of navigating the world. It was easier to have set parameters and expectations to operate within. Once he climbed the ladder to the cockpit, his entire focus shifted to the mission, executing it to the best possible extent and getting back home.

A spot opened up at the bar as he neared, and Bob made a beeline for it, setting the empty bottles and glasses on the counter. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he glanced at the pretty bartender Penny had hired a few weeks ago. Evie slung a towel over her shoulder and used the back of her wrist to push her purple glasses up as she built a drink in a shaker tin. Her gaze drifted across the patrons, and the corner of her mouth tipped up when her eyes landed on Bob. He felt his lips curving in an answering smile.

“Another round?” Penny asked, stepping in front of him.

“What? Oh,” he said, eyes darting between the two women. Penny gave him a knowing look, her lips thinning as though trying to repress a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Evie? Lieutenant Floyd’s getting another round for his squad. Think you can help him out?”

“Yup, just need a minute,” Evie replied, grabbing the cocktail strainer and a clean glass. Her eyes darted over the beer bottles. “What were the drafts?”

“It was the, uh… IPA?”

“Do you remember which one?” Rose dusted his cheeks, and Evie shook her head. “Don’t worry about it - who was it for?”

“Payback and Hangman.”

“Finch and…?”

“Fitch and Seresin.” She nodded, placing the cocktail before a woman, and quickly entered the sale. Grabbing clean glasses, she pulled the drafts. She retrieved the bottles from the under-counter refrigerator, caps flying as she quickly opened them before returning the bottle opener to her back pocket.

“And what can I get for you, Bob?” she asked, setting the beers down in front of him and clearing away the empties.

“I’m fine with a Coke.” She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow.

“Have you tried a Roy Rogers before?”

“I don’t, I don’t drink.”

“It’s not alcohol - it’s grenadine and Coke. Just a little more flavor.”

“Oh, that… that might be okay.” She smiled softly, grabbing a shot glass and the bottle of grenadine, uprighting it to pour a small measure before filling the rest with soda.

“Try it first.” Her fingers held the glass in the middle, and he carefully lifted it from her hand, making sure not to touch. “Thoughts?”

“It’s not bad,” he replied, setting the glass down. Evie quickly grabbed it and set it on the container with dirty glasses. “I’ll have that, please.”

“You’re not just saying that since I suggested it, are you?” she pressed, filling a glass with ice and setting it in front of him.

“No, ma’am. It’s good.”

“Alright. Happy it’s the weekend?” Bob watched as she poured the red syrup into the glass while using the soda gun, lifting his gaze to see her watching him. He nodded. “Doing anything fun?”

“Not really. You?”

“Working. Studying. The usual.” He watched her pluck two cherries from the garnish tray and drop them into the drink.

“Oh. Well, uh, I hope you have some time to relax.” Evie’s smile didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Here’s hoping. Need a hand to get all of this to the crew?”

“Backup has arrived,” Hangman said, appearing at Bob’s elbow. He winked at Evie. “Much obliged, darlin’.”

“Of course.” Her gaze met Bob’s again. “Lemme know if you need anything else tonight.”

“I will. Thank you, Evie.” She nodded, turning her attention to the next patron.

“You’re welcome, Bob.”

Another Friday. Another Hard Deck night.

Bob arrived before the others and sat in his truck. A glance at his watch showed that they should be getting there soon, so he steeled himself to go in first. If he did that, he could make an excuse to leave earlier.

“Hey,” Evie greeted him, a rack of clean glassware in her hands as she backed out of the kitchen. He nodded, eyes darting down to the rack and wondering if it would be strange for him to offer to carry it. She set it on the counter before he could figure it out and ducked under the bar. “What can I get for you?”

“A Roy Rogers, please.” Her teeth dug into her lower lip as she fought a smile.

“Okay. What are your thoughts on trying something else?”

“Like what?”

“A cherry lime Ricky? Lime juice, cherry syrup, and soda water.”

“Sure.” He watched her retrieve a glass and two bottles. “What are you - ”

“So how was - ” She paused. “Sorry, you first.”

“I,” Bob cleared his throat. “I was gonna ask what you’re studying.”

“I’m working on a doctorate in Clinical Psychology. Just finished my first year.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Her gaze flitted up to meet his before focusing on building his drink. “Decided it was time for a change, so, yeah. New city, new career.”

“Where were you before this?”

“DC. I was a legislative policy analyst.” At his raised brows, she shrugged. “It sounds more impressive than it was. And it paid horribly. I bartended on the side, so at least there’s some continuity. Tell me what you think of this,” she said, setting the glass in front of him on a napkin.

“It’s good. Thanks.”

“No problem. Can I ask you a question?” When he nodded, she leaned on the bar and cocked her head. “What’s a wizzo? I heard someone call you that.”

“WSO - Weapon Systems Officer. I fly with Phoenix and handle the comms, datalinks, and targeting systems in our jet, among other things.”

“Sounds complicated.” Bob chuckled, ducking his head.

“Yeah, yeah, it is. I like it, though.”

“That’s important.”

“Is that why you’re doing psychology?”

“Yup. Wish I’d realized that while I was in undergrad instead of doing a whole career shift at 28.”

“That’d be… that sounds like it’s hard.”

“Gotta do the hard things sometimes to get to the long-term goal,” she sighed before looking over his shoulder. “The rest of your crew just got here.” Without warning, a hand came down on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Hey, can I get a Sam Adam’s on draft?” Rooster asked. With a nod, she retrieved a pint glass and flipped it in her hand, sending a sly smile to Bob, who ducked his head. Drinks in hand, the two men went to claim the pool table.

From there, Bob saw Evie tense as a man slid into his vacated stool. Her smile was fixed as she set a napkin in front of him and took his order, going to the far side of the bar to use the soda gun. Penny leaned closer as Evie whispered something, then turned to grab a bottle, eyes darting to the patron. After serving the man his drink, it looked like he was trying to talk to her, but she moved on to the next person. His eyes followed her as she worked the bar, trying to talk every time she neared to grab something, to which she nodded with a fixed smile.

Slowly, so slowly it almost seemed accidental to anyone who wasn’t paying attention, Bob watched as Penny took over the section the man was in as Evie swapped to the other side of the bar. When the man tried to request Evie’s help with a drink, Penny shrugged and crossed her arms, a tense smile on her mouth. Bob’s eyes flit to Evie, who looked like she was trying hard not to pay attention. After a few minutes, the man threw money on the bar, walked towards Evie, and said something before leaving. Penny was quickly at her side, and Evie shook her head. She turned as though feeling eyes on her and met Bob’s gaze. He frowned when she quickly looked away.

When he was ready to go, he made a point to close his tab with her. “Here you go,” she said, placing his card and receipts in front of him with a pen. Though she had other customers, Evie stood before him, retrieving a cloth from her pocket and cleaning her glasses. “What are your thoughts on frozen drinks?” she asked.

“I don’t mind ‘em.” Her smile grew as she nodded.

“I can bust out the blender next Friday and do a Virgin Piña Colada or whipped lemonade. Or a blushing Arnold Palmer if you want something simpler.”

“I’m sure whatever you make’ll be great, but you don’t have to go through the hassle for me.”

“It’s no hassle,” she shrugged, pushing back ingrained bartender dread of using a blender. Shoving the cloth into her pocket, she put her glasses back on and cocked an eyebrow.

“I look forward to it. Have a good night, Evie.”

“See you next week, Bob.” When their fingers accidentally brushed as she reached for the receipt, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his mouth.

The following Friday, Bob tried not to grin whenever he caught sight of the pink cocktail umbrella tucked behind Evie’s ear, matching the one in the Virgin Piña Colada she’d made him.

“He’s back,” Penny whispered as she passed behind Evie to restock the straws.

“Shit.”

“I’ll have Jimmy take care of him.” Evie nodded, keeping her head down as she crouched low to restock the beer case.

“I’m sorry about this, Penny,” Evie whispered and swallowed hard when the older woman squeezed her shoulder. The bar was too busy for this shit to be happening on a Saturday night. One of the ships had just come in, and The Hard Deck was already packed. It should have been an all-hands-on-deck night, and now she was trying to figure out how to avoid one of her sections. A part of her wondered if she should have called out and let Penny schedule one of the other summer bartenders, but the tips tonight would be too good to pass up. With the summer semester over for undergrads and her tutoring students gone for a couple of weeks, the extra cash would ensure she could pay her rent without dipping into her savings. It wasn’t like she was getting paid for the hours spent at the community mental health clinic where she interned.

But that didn’t make it easier to ignore Shaun, eyes boring into her as she circled the bar to get around him. Breaking down the beer boxes, Evie tucked them under her arm and turned to her boss. “Gonna make a trash run.”

“Make it quick,” Penny nodded. “Grab some whiskey and tequila on your way back, please.” With a nod, the younger woman grabbed the trash and ducked under the bar, weaving through the crowd to the back exit. A few of Penny’s aviators glanced up as she pressed her back against the door, and she gave them a tight smile and nod.

Music spilled out of the building, melding with the sound of waves crashing on the shore as she tossed the bags and boxes into the dumpster. She stopped and enjoyed the sight of moonlight bouncing off the ocean and the cool breeze ruffling the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. While she missed the hustle of DC, there was something to say about the laidback California lifestyle. Being removed from the constant job comparison was also lovely. If Evie never dealt with another Capitol Hill bro again, it would be too soon.

Mentally preparing to reenter the fray, she took a deep breath and stepped back inside, beelining towards the bathroom to wash her hands. But as she exited the stock room, juggling four bottles, she froze. “Hey, Eves.”

“Shaun.” The blonde smiled at her, leaning against the wall to block her exit.

“How have you been?”

“Busy. I need to get back to work, so if you’d excuse me.” When she tried to step around him, his hand landed on her hip, finger threading through her belt loop.

“C’mon babe, don’t be like that.”

“Move your hand,” she said through grit teeth.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I was very clear when I told you it’s over. I will ask you nicely to leave before you’re kicked out.”

“Too late.” Standing behind Shaun was Penny’s boyfriend, Maverick, backed up by Jimmy. The two men looked annoyed, and anger flared in Mav’s eyes when he saw where Shaun’s hand was. “Now, you can leave through the front door, or I’d be more than happy to get some of my guys to throw you out. Decision’s yours.” Evie blushed, seeing they were drawing the attention of Penny’s aviators, who all frowned in her direction.

“I’ll see you around,” Shaun begrudgingly said, letting his fingers drag along the waist of her shorts. If her hands weren’t full of alcohol, she would have slapped him.

“No, you won’t,” Mav promised, forcefully steering the taller man towards the door. Jimmy followed after patting her shoulder. Evie forced a smile, happy that her coworker had her back, and drew in a deep breath, holding it for four beats and exhaling. Slowly, she forced herself into a quick round of box breathing to ground herself, her eyes closed. It was just like taking a beat between clients, she told herself before stepping back onto the floor and hustling to the bar.

“You alright?” Penny asked.

“Fine.”

“Wonder what that’s about,” Phoenix said, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head as she and Bob entered The Hard Deck. Penny glanced at them, forcing a tight smile as she spoke to the two police officers across the bar. Bob couldn’t help but look around for Evie. The squad had mentioned that something had happened over the weekend, and he wanted to check on her.

Evie stepped out of the stock room, flexing her hands. Bob wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn that the corner of her mouth lifted when their eyes met. “Jimmy and I got the new kegs on, Penny. I’m going to…” she trailed off, catching sight of the officers. “Everything okay?”

“They actually need to talk to you. You can use my office.” Evie’s paled, making her red lipstick more vibrant. Bob felt a surge of protectiveness, and only Phoenix’s pointed look checked his instinct to move closer.

“O-oh, alright. This way.” When their eyes met again, Bob tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“Everything alright?” Phoenix asked as Penny moved towards them.

“Did Pete say what time he was going to be here?” she asked instead.

“He shouldn’t be far behind us,” Bob replied, glancing towards the office. With a nod, she started to pull Phoenix’s beer.

“What about you, Bob?” He ordered a soda. While Phoenix went to secure the pool table, he stayed hunched over the bar, the pile of peanut shells growing on the napkin in front of him. When the office door finally opened, and the officers stepped out, he waited for Evie to emerge.

When she did, he felt his heart drop. Her usual composure was gone, eyes wide as they darted around the bar. Her red lips parted, blowing a breath as she swiped at her eyes, smearing her eyeliner and knocking her glasses askew. As she neared, he could see that she was shaking.

“Hey,” she said softly, forcing her voice steady as she stepped behind the bar.

“Are you okay?”

“F-fine,” she replied but jumped when Penny appeared beside her.

“You okay, sweetie?” the older woman asked, taking a few steps away from him. Evie rolled her lips together, tears appearing in her eyes. Her trembling became more pronounced, and when she caught Bob looking at her shaking hands, she balled them into fists.

“I’ll b-be okay.” Penny let out a heavy sigh and shook her head.

“Take the night. I’ll call Chelsea to cover and give Pete the officer’s card so he can give a statement, too.”

“I’m so sorry, Penny,” Evie breathed.

“Don’t be. Go home and take care of yourself. We’ll figure this out. But send me a picture of him so I can make sure everyone’s on the lookout. I’ll trespass him if he shows up.” The two women embraced before Evie circled the bar, giving him a weak smile before going to retrieve her purse. Penny’s eyes landed on him, and she sighed. “Would you mind walking her out, Bob?”

“Of course,” he said, quickly pushing to his feet. When Evie returned, she’d swapped her glasses for sunglasses. Penny jerked her head, and Bob scrambled to follow. He quickly got in front of her and held the door open, brows furrowing at the brittle smile she gave him.

“Thanks, Bob.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll, uh, walk you to your car?” The statement came out as a question, and she shook her head.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” Her breath hitched as her lips thinned, and she gave a curt nod. They didn’t speak as he followed her toward an old, beat-up blue car on the far corner of the parking lot. It apparently didn’t have automatic locks because her hands shook so badly that she scraped the paint twice while trying to fit the key into the lock before dropping the keys.

“Fuck,” she hissed. He was faster than her and plucked them off the ground.

“Evie - ”

“I’m fine.” When he didn’t say anything, she sighed and held out her hand for the keys. He watched as they shook, slowly raising his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll be fine.”

“Can I drive you home? I don’t think… I want to make sure you get there safely.” Her chin wobbled, and Bob’s hand flexed, trying to resist the urge to reach out to touch her.

“You don’t have to.”

“Please.” After a moment, she nodded, and he unlocked the car before circling around it and holding open the passenger’s side for her.

“The air conditioner doesn’t work,” Evie said once he’d adjusted the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. Nodding, he rolled down his window as she did the same. “I didn’t have a car in DC and didn’t want to have a big car payment while I’m in grad school.”

“I had a car that smelled like fuel the entire time I was in flight school,” he shrugged, pulling out of the parking lot. “Got it on the lemon lot on base.”

“Lemon lot?”

“Yeah. You can put your car and stuff up for sale there. They’ve got one here if you’re ever looking for a new car.”

“I don’t have base access.”

“I could take you.” She nodded, then gave him directions to her apartment. It was a quiet ride, the silence broken by the radio and wind, and he saw her wiping her eyes occasionally. They drove to one of the older parts of town and pulled into an apartment that was a bit dated from the outside. Evie seemed a bit embarrassed as she got out. “I’ll just order a car,” he said, handing her the keys.

“Do you want to come up while you wait?” she asked.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, taking his phone from his flight suit pocket. He saw a text from Phoenix asking where he’d gone but ignored it in favor of pulling up the rideshare app. “It’ll only be… forty minutes.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“Come on.” He followed her into the building, climbing a staircase to the second floor. “It’s a bit of a mess,” she apologized, pushing open the door to her studio apartment. He quickly removed his boots when she kicked off her sneakers and followed her down the narrow hallway into the main living area. A folding room divider separated her bed from the couch, and books covered the coffee table and a small desk tucked into the corner. The back wall was a large window covered with curtains, and he could see a small patio overlooking the pool. Her eyes were red-rimmed when she turned to face him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water, please.” She nodded, putting on her glasses before tossing her purse onto the bed and retreating to the small kitchen. Unsure of what to do, he followed, watching as she retrieved two glasses, glancing over at him as she reached into the refrigerator. She looked calmer now that she was in her own home, but he could tell she was anxious. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she sighed, handing him the water, eyes not meeting his own as she pushed her glasses up her nose. He recognized the nervous tick as one of his own.

“Does it have something to do with the guy who makes you uncomfortable at work?” Her wide eyes darted up to meet his, and he shrugged. “Mav asked us to be on the lookout for him, and I noticed that you avoid him.” She took a deep breath before sipping her water, her hands shaking again.

“Yeah. Shaun,” she said after a moment, dropping her gaze to the floor. “We went on a couple of dates, and he didn’t like that I told him I wasn’t interested. I must have mentioned working at the bar once, and he figured that bothering me there would make me give him another shot.”

“Was that why the police talked to you?” The trembling was back, and she quickly set her water on the counter before crossing her arms over her chest.

“H-have you ever heard of the Tarasoff Rule?” Frowning, he shook his head. “It’s a law that all mental health professionals have to follow. We have to warn and protect if we think a client is an active threat to someone. It’s…one of the few reasons we’d break confidentiality. And I guess… and Shaun said something to someone, and I - ” She gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle the panicked sob that escaped. Without thinking, he quickly walked towards her and set his glass beside hers, pulling her into his chest. Evie hesitated a moment, pushing her glasses to the top of her head before her arms wrapped around him tightly. He could feel her tears dampening his flight suit, drowning the usual urge to keep physical distance.

“Honey, does he know where you live?” he asked softly, then swallowed hard when she nodded. Careful not to jostle her, he reached into his pocket and canceled the car. There was no way he was leaving her alone.

When her sobs dissolved into hiccups, Evie slowly pulled away, eyes downcast as she tried to clean the eyeliner and mascara from her face. “‘M sorry,” she mumbled, reaching to scrub her thumb on his chest. He saw a smear of red lipstick on the fabric and caught her hand.

“‘S fine. Is there anyone… do you have someone that can stay with you? Or somewhere you can go?” She shook her head, hand quickly shooting up to catch her glasses when they slid from her hair.

“I don’t want to drag anyone else into this.” Bob’s jaw ticked as he looked at the floor, thumb absentmindedly stroking her knuckles.

“Can I stay?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

It was awkward at first, only really knowing one another in the context of the bar. They sat on the couch, the television droning to break the silence. Evie had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt, makeup scrubbed off, and glasses perched on her nose. Bob had tied the top of his flight suit around his waist.

But then he noticed one of the books on her coffee table and chuckled. “Didn’t take you for a Tolkien fan.” Her gaze followed his, seeing the cover of The Silmarillion hidden under one of her textbooks on psychodynamic theory.

“I’m a Tolkien nerd,” she admitted. “I even have an Elvish tattoo.”

“You do?” Rather than answer, she turned her back to him and lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing her black bra band and the delicate script trailing along her spine. “What’s it say?”

“‘Deep roots are not reached by the frost.’ It’s from - ”

“The poem about Aragorn,” Bob finished. Evie dropped her shirt and turned to face him, an eyebrow cocked.

“You like Lord of the Rings?”

“The Hobbit’s my favorite book.” A smile curved her lips, and he felt a surge of pride that he’d put it there.

“So what did you think about them breaking it into three movies?” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch. Evie laughed, and he grinned.

The conversation carried them for a while, and after she warmed up some leftover chicken and pasta, they put on the extended version of Lord of the Rings. They discussed how sad it was that Tom Bombadil was left out of the films and how Arwen’s role replaced Glorfindel. When she took their empty plates to the kitchen, Bob was pleasantly surprised when she sat closer to him on the couch.

It was edging close to 10:00PM when the movie ended, and they debated putting on The Two Towers before deciding against it. Instead, Evie put on some music, and they talked. She told him about growing up in Maryland and realizing that she wasn’t happy in a career writing reports and wanted to help people instead. She talked about her work at the community mental health center and how hard but rewarding it was. Bob told her about growing up on the ranch in Montana, spending days in the saddle and nights under the stars. He told her one of his favorite things about being on the carrier was seeing those stars again. Night flights were his favorite because even the glow of the instrument panel wasn’t enough to block them out.

When he stretched his arm across the back of the couch, his fingertips accidentally brushed her shoulder as she faced him. He didn’t want to pull away when she leaned into his touch.

Bob felt himself losing focus as they talked about their families and clenched his jaw to keep from yawning. Evie seemed to catch it, though. “Sorry, I forgot not everyone keeps bartending hours. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, reluctant to have the evening end. He hated why he was getting to spend so much time with her, but Bob wanted to savor every moment together. Phoenix teased him about his crush, and tonight only worsened it. Shaking her head, she stood and stretched, the hem of her shirt rising to reveal a thin strip of skin before falling again.

“I’ll get a pillow and blanket. And I’m sure I have a spare toothbrush somewhere.” He nodded, and they took turns in the bathroom while she spread a sheet over the couch for him and tossed a blanket at the end.

“Will it bother you if I, uh…” he motioned to his flight suit, a blush creeping up his throat.

“Oh, no. That’s, um…” Evie said, a pretty pink dusting her cheeks. Bob nodded and waited for her to turn off the floor lamp and duck behind the room divider before taking off his flight suit and folding it. He didn’t usually sleep in a shirt, but it felt like pushing to only wear his boxer briefs in her home. “Night, Bob.”

“Goodnight,” he called back, putting his glasses on the coffee table. Tucking one arm under his head, he stared at the ceiling until she turned off her bedside lamp. He could see the light of her cell phone for a while before it turned off.

And then she started crying. Soft little gasps that she was clearly trying to muffle in her pillow, just loud enough for him to hear. It broke his heart to lay there and listen to it until her breathing evened, and she drifted off to sleep.

Knocking woke him, and Bob was momentarily confused about where he was. He snatched his glasses from the coffee table as Evie turned on her bedside light. “Bob?” she said, voice rough with sleep and laced with apprehension.

“Stay there,” he ordered, flinging off the blanket and pushing to his feet. He glanced over his shoulder as he entered the hallway. Evie clutched her blanket to her chest, teeth digging into her lower lip.

“Babe, I can see your car out there. I know you’re home,” Shaun said, knocking louder.

“Call the cops,” Bob hissed. She nodded, grabbing her cell phone and quickly dialing 911.

“Evie!”

“You need to leave right now,” Bob shouted as he neared the door. The knocking stopped.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“The police are on their way.” He could hear Evie talking to dispatch. Glancing through the peephole, he saw the man pacing, hands buried in his hair. Bob stepped back when he turned and resumed pounding on the door.

“Who the fuck is in my girlfriend’s apartment?” There was movement behind him, and Bob turned to see Evie standing at the mouth of the hallway, cell phone tucked between her shoulder and ear with a baseball bat in hand.

“Please hurry,” she begged. Her wide eyes met his, and he motioned for her to give him the bat. The hallway wasn’t wide enough for him to get a good swing if Shaun made it through the door, but he could do some damage if necessary. Her voice retreated for a moment, and he heard the slide of a drawer before she was back, a small canister in hand. Bob recognized a can of pepper spray when he saw it and had to fight back the visceral reaction. He’d been sprayed with it during Officer Candidate School, then had to take down and fend off a potential threat.

“Careful with that,” he warned, not wanting to have to re-experience it. Evie nodded, eyes fixed on the door as the pounding continued.

“Evie, open the goddamn door!” Bob held out a hand to keep her from answering. They didn’t want to make Shaun angrier. If she didn’t answer, he might think he got the wrong place and go away.

There was a boom, and the door shuddered.

“Please, please, please tell them to hurry,” Evie pleaded. Bob wanted her behind a locked door, but the bathroom was closer to the entrance.

“Go on the balcony, honey,” he said softly. There wasn’t a lock, but at least she’d be further away. She shook her head, and they heard a second boom. He spun, lifting the bat when he heard the crack of the door frame splintering.

“EVIE!”

“Go!” Bob ordered. There was no way her neighbors weren’t hearing that, and he hoped that they were on the phone with the police as well. A large shard of wood hit the floor at the next hit, and he adjusted his grip.

In the distance, he heard the wail of a siren. Apparently, Shaun did as well because he paused. Creeping towards the door, Bob squinted to look out the peephole and saw the man leaning over the banister. Blue and white lights flooded the area, and he took off. Glancing over his shoulder, he met Evie’s gaze and held out a hand to stop her from coming inside. What felt like an hour later, but was probably just a few minutes, there was another knock.

“Police! Open up.” Leaning the bat against the wall, Bob quickly unlocked the door and let the officer in.

“They’re here,” Evie breathed, stepping inside. “Thank you.” The phone dangled from her hand for a moment before falling to the carpet, and Bob quickly crossed the apartment to tug her into his arms as she started to sob.

It took an hour for the officers to take their statements and to talk to the neighbors. While the doorframe was splintered and the door scuffed and dented, the lock still worked. Bob showed the officers out while Evie sat on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands, forcing herself to practice deep breathing. She couldn’t stop shaking but had managed to stop repeating, “I don’t know why this happened. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” They’d assured her that Shaun wouldn’t be getting out of jail for the weekend and walked her through getting a restraining order. She was thankful Bob was there because she couldn’t concentrate enough on their words to follow what they said.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching in front of her. “Honey?” He lightly touched her knee to get her attention. Her red-rimmed eyes met his. “Do you want to stay here or go to my place?”

“I’m so sorry, Bob. I didn’t mean for y-you to get involved.”

“Shhh,” he said softly, thumb lightly stroking her leg. “I’m glad I was here.”

“You’ve already done so much,” she rasped, shaking her head. “I can’t… I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

“You would have hit him with the bat and then the pepper spray.” That pulled a tired, huffed laugh from her. “Let’s go to my place?”

The streets at 4:30AM were nearly empty, and they both felt the adrenaline crash as they walked into Bob’s condo. Their fingers entwined as he led her through the dark house, unwilling to burst the soft, tired bubble they’d found themself in by turning on a light. Wordlessly, he led her to his bedroom. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly, dropping her quickly packed bag on his dresser. But Evie held tight when he tried to let go of her hand.

“Stay?” she breathed. “I don’t want to kick you out of your bed and… I don’t really want to be alone.” Bob hesitated, watching the streetlights reflecting off her glasses, and nodded. Silently, he stripped off his flight suit and crawled into bed after closing the curtains. Evie lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling. Her hand slid under the covers to find him again. “Bob?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything tonight. And I’ll completely understand if you never want to see me again after this. But I just wanted to let you know that I a-appreciate it. You.” He was silent for a moment.

“I want to see you again. You’re my favorite part of the week.” He heard her breath hitch and turned to see her looking at him.

“You're mine too.”

Later, he wouldn’t be sure who moved first. But he would remember vividly how soft her lips felt against his that first time, tentative at first and then her muffled gasp as his fingers traced the curve of her jaw. Her breasts pressed against his chest as they moved together, fingers hesitantly slipping under shirts and exploring unseen skin. “Honey,” he breathed against her mouth. “Not tonight. Not like this.”

“Not tonight,” she agreed. Her hand lifted, thumb tracing his lower lip before her gaze rose to meet his. “‘I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging.’”

“And it's very difficult to find anyone,” Bob finished the Tolkien quote, shifting his fingers under her shirt to trace the Elvish script that decorated her spine.

Evie lay awake long after he drifted off, replaying the night and everything that led up to it. She could already tell there were gaps in her memory. When her heart started to race, she forced herself to recite the 14 symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and the differential diagnoses of PTSD, acute stress disorder, and adjustment disorders.

She watched the sky grow lighter through a gap in the curtains. The mattress shifted as Bob moved. Quickly shutting her eyes, she feigned sleep as he curled around her, slotting his thighs behind hers and tossing his arm across her waist. He mumbled something in his sleep.

Her eyes grew heavier as she focused on the steady beat of his heart and his slow, deep breathing.

As she drifted off, Evie had one last conscious thought.

Safe.

----------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Sting said this about the song

"I think it's a nasty little song, really rather evil. It's about jealousy and surveillance and ownership... I think the ambiguity is intrinsic in the song however you treat it because the words are so sadistic. On one level, it's a nice long song with the classic relative minor chords, and underneath there's this distasteful character talking about watching every move.

Tarasoff's Rule came about after a man murdered his ex-girlfriend after disclosing his intent to his therapist. You can read more about the case here. Duty to warn and protect is one of the few reasons a mental health clinician can break confidentiality, and only when there is a plan/intent to act; having thoughts with no plan/intent does not meet the threshold for breaking confidentiality. Confidentiality is taken very seriously in the mental health world.

This story came about due to one of my colleagues was alerted to a patient making homicidal threats against him. When I saw this challenge, I jumped on the song because the connection to the case and the way the song is catchy and sweet but sinister.

Evie's tattoo comes from this poem:

“All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.”

Thank you for reading!

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun rocktober #top gun maverick #Bob Top Gun #tw: stalking #protective! Bob

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saturnville · 2 days ago

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echoes in the heights, terry richmond | chapter two

Synopsis: In the quiet town of Riverside Heights, Terry Richmond seeks a fresh start, but his growing connection with the guarded Elara Taylor forces him to confront the past he’s tried to leave behind—and the future he’s afraid to embrace.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!OC (Elara Taylor)

A/N: Unless you’d like to be removed, you must interact with a reblog and/or comment to keep your spot on the taglist. Enjoy!

Tags: @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @turn-thy-paige @theglamclosetsl

A/N/N: It took forever to post cause I keep changing the direction I want the story to go, so if you have suggestions, let me know. Comments and reblogs are highly encouraged and typically result in quicker updates. Just saying. Okay, enjoy.

Riverside Heights grew on Terry quicker than he anticipated. He had a routine that he followed strictly, making acclimating to a new environment more manageable.

Monday through Friday, he woke up at five to work out before his shifts, which were from eight in the morning to five in the evening. He had dinner with Ms. Willis every night, which Jackson often interrupted on Wednesday nights. On Fridays, he went to the grocery store after work, and on the weekends, he went to the park to read on the benches and attend service with Ms. Willis like he used to as a child. It was a modest routine but one he enjoyed.

It was a busy Saturday afternoon in Riverside Heights. A fair was happening in the town's heart at the community center. It was a child’s playground with games, food, drinks, and fellowship among its inhabitants. Terry didn’t have anyone to go with as Jackson had a date with his wife and still hadn’t made many friends. He didn’t mind it, though. It allowed him to mix and mingle with other members of the community.

He met a woman named Tanya. She was a “sweet Southern belle,” as she called herself. And sweet she was. She offered to drop off some of her famous peach cobbler that her husband deemed “God’s gift to Riverside Heights.”

“Thank you, Tanya.” Terry’s smile was as genuine as the sky’s blue hue. Small acts of kindness like hers felt like blessings, rare and cherished.

Her gapped-tooth grin shone brightly as she patted his chest. “No problem at all. Join us for Sunday football one of these days. My husband is tired of being around soccer lovers.”

Terry nodded. “I’ll be there.” Tanya bid her farewells again before skipping the small rides with her daughters. Though it was complex every day, interactions like those he had with Tanya, Ms. Willis, and Jackson made acclimation a bit more feasible.

He smiled to himself as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. It would be a good day.

Sometime later, Terry sat alone on an old bench munching on freshly made popcorn. His time at the fair had been a good one. Happiness and satisfaction were in the air and wrapped around him like a hug.

He glanced at his watch. He’d been at the fair for over two hours and was prepared to go home. He grunted softly as he pushed himself up on his feet. He adjusted his shirt and pants, swiping off popcorn kernels. As he turned, he met with Ms. Elara Taylor herself.

Outside of work, she seemed lighter and less intense. She wasn’t wearing her usual two-piece suit and skyscrapers, which she called heels. Instead, she wore a flowy summer dress, orange against her rich complexion. She was stunning.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said as she approached him. She was much shorter than usual without heels, maybe because she didn’t have to operate as a dictator when she wasn't at work. “Here alone?”

Terry tossed his empty popcorn container in a nearby trashcan and nodded twice. “I am. You?”

“I am. Figured I’d stop by and grab a churro,” she said, waving her dessert in the air before taking a bite. “How’s Riverside treating you?”

Terry could admit that her sudden change in demeanor had him suspicious. She was soft-spoken and flowy with her movements. And…she smiled. She never smiled at work. Her lips were straight, while her eyebrows were set in a deep frown. She looked beautiful when she smiled—if only she’d done it more. It was better than the scowl she walked around with all the time.

“What?” She said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “What do you mean I should smile more?”

Oh. He tended to murmur, but it would only be to himself. Too bad it happened out loud. Rather than attempting to take back what he said, albeit accidentally, he repeated, “You should smile more.”

Her head tilted, her straight hair following its movement. Her eyebrows furrowed as they do every workday, and the sides of her lips twisted upward. “I do smile.”

Terry chuckled and shook his head. He glanced at the sky briefly before bringing his gaze back to her. “You don’t. At least not at work. You look mean and like you never want to be bothered.” He crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at her.

Elara scoffed in disbelief and dropped her hands by her side. Terry’s eyebrows raised in amusement.“Yup, just like that.”

“You know what,” she huffed. “You are insufferable.” Terry cocked his head to the side. There was no way those words came out of her mouth. The woman who had men quaking in fear whenever she entered a room called him insufferable. He had to laugh.

Elara’s eyes narrowed at his laughter, the corners of her mouth twitching despite herself. He had a cute laugh. He laughed with his whole body—shoulders wiggling, eyebrows raised, and all his shiny teeth on display. His usual beautiful orbs were almost unseen, and his eyes crinkled as each giggle tumbled from his lips. She’d never seen him this happy. “Glad you’re entertained,” she mumbled, her voice laced with mock irritation.

His laughter died down, and his smile shifted to a smirk. “I’m sorry,” he said, clearly not sorry at all. “I’ve just…I’ve never heard anyone say that to me before. Especially you.”

Her head jerked back as she side-eyed him. She crossed her eyes as if challenging him. Her churro was long-forgotten as it dug into her arm. “And why is that?”

“You’re always so serious. I didn’t think insufferable was in your vocabulary,” he teased, leaning closer. Elara’s breath hitched. “Thought you stuck to words like unacceptable or insufficient.”

Elara rolled her eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "You think you know me, don't you?

"I think I know enough," Terry said, his grin widening.

Her expression softened briefly, and she glanced away as if gathering her thoughts. "Well, maybe you don't know everything, Mr. Richmond.” He liked how she said his name, especially outside of work. It was more breathy and natural, like a breath. “People can surprise you.”

Terry tilted his head, intrigued. His eyes were locked on hers, and her gaze faltered just slightly. “Oh yeah? Like how you're surprising me right now by being... dare I say, fun?"

"Careful, or I might take it back," she quipped, pointing her churro at him like a weapon.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need for violence."

She shook her head, laughing softly. "You're ridiculous."

They stood there momentarily, their energy shifting into something lighter yet layered. The sounds of the fair—children laughing, music playing, and distant chatter—filled the silence between them.

"So," Terry said, breaking the moment, "do you come to these fairs often, or is this a rare 'Elara Taylor, off-duty' sighting?"

She raised an eyebrow. "And if I said it was rare?"

"I'd say I’m lucky to witness it."

She blinked, caught off guard by his sincerity. For a second, her usual defenses seemed to waver. "Well," she said, recovering quickly, "don't get used to it. I have a reputation to maintain."

"Noted," he replied, his smile softening. "But for what it's worth, you should let this side out more often. It's nice.”

Elara opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. This man had her loins stirring in ways she hated to admit. And she hardly knew him. So, instead, she glanced at her watch. "I should get going,” she said.

Terry nodded, sensing the moment had run its course. "Alright. Don't let me keep you."

She turned to leave but paused, looking over her shoulder. "And Terry?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not as insufferable as I thought." With that, she walked away, her orange dress swaying in the breeze.

Terry watched her go, a bemused smile on his face. Maybe Riverside Heights—and its people—had more to offer than he'd initially thought.

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strangersteddierthings · 2 years ago

Text

The Conversation

Final Part of The Interview [Part One] [Part Two] [Ao3]

Steve finishes putting on his boots, shoves a beanie on his head, and grabs his thermos of coffee before heading outside. Robin had texted when they left Pendleton so they should be arriving soon, and he wants to make sure the dogs stay clear of the driveway, and also finish some of the chores he is being lazy about. The mountain air is cold in February, and the snow is deep, but it's still warm for a winter day in Eastern Oregon.

His childhood house had been at the edge of a little forest. His current home is tucked away in the woods, trees for miles, and the nearest neighbor farther still than that. He's lived a lot of places, been able to see the whole of America almost, and in the process, he's learned that he'll always be a small-town boy. The real revelation is how at home he feels in this two-bedroom cabin sequestered away from any town at all. Sure, he's got to drive a little over half an hour to get to the nearest grocery store, but he's learned he likes that.

He's got 1600 acres of woods all to himself and the dogs. He's owned this property for almost four years, but recent events made him finally move out here. Originally, he'd bought it to make it as another flip project, but something in his gut told him to make it a vacation home / safe haven for his family instead. Robin, mainly, as a getaway from the LA life and overwhelming spotlight she'd started to face as her music career took off. He might be turning it into his permanent home and base of operations, but everyone knows they're still welcome.

Anyway, the day might be warm for winter, but the night won't be, so Steve sets his thermos on the top of the wooden railing of the porch and heads down the steps to the woodshed. The plan in the summer is to update the cabin, which includes adding central air and a good heating system, but until then, portable heaters are in the bedrooms and the wood stove gets the rest of the cabin. There's also plans to start the construction on the guest house. It's going to be a busy summer.

He replenishes the woodpile on the porch from the woodshed and debates chopping more but decides against it. That can be a tomorrow chore. Next is cleaning up the snow paths he's made previously. Doesn't want anyone falling on their ass on the way to the house, no matter how funny that'll be to watch. As usual, Pancake makes the task difficult because she wants to play with the snow shovel. Melody cries until he throws snow into the air by the shovel full for her to play in. Chowder, old man that he is, supervises from the porch, front paws hanging just off the top step.

It's rough going but he manages to complete the few chores, even with two dogs underfoot.

Steve is on the front porch, forearms holding his weight as he leans against the railing, thermos of coffee between his hands, taking in the afternoon sun and enjoying the silence when Dustin's work truck slides into the driveway. Almost literally, given the foot and a half of snow still on the ground. The driveway is long, okay. Steve's doesn't have enough time in his day to keep up with salting it all.

It'll be strange to see Eddie after all these years. He still can't believe Robin got him to come. When he'd asked how she did it, she brushed him off with an it's not important.

Speaking of Robin, she's the first person out of the truck, sliding out of the passenger seat and then cursing when she drops right into the snow. She shoots an accusatory look towards the cabin, and therefore Steve, like he placed the snow there himself, when the fault is Dustin, who has left the driver side with plenty of room between the truck and the snowbank.

Dustin gets out of the truck and Steve faintly hears him say this side, man, less snow before pushing his door closed and turning to brace himself as Pancake and Melody rush from the porch to circle like sharks, barely restraining themselves from jumping up. Chowder follows after slowly, taking his sweet time getting to Robin, his favorite human. Steve can't even be jealous about that because Robin is his favorite human, too.

The back driver side door opens, and he watches as Eddie Munson all but falls out of the truck. It's the least graceful anyone's looked getting out of the back of the truck and that's counting Chowder and his old man hips. Seeing Eddie again is- well, it's a lot of emotions all at once, but they're are all overshadowed at the moment by how Eddie looks... well, bad. His hair is longer than Steve's ever seen it, a little longer than mid-back length, but it looks like it hasn't seen a proper hair brush in a couple of days. Even from this distance Steve can see the bags under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

He pushes himself off the railing and meanders down the two steps, waiting for them to notice he's waiting. Robin trudges out of the snow berm and to the front of the truck, where Chowder is waiting patiently for his pets and kisses. Dustin has managed to get Melody to stop hopping in front of him so she can get her side scratches, and Pancake has realized there is a new, third person with a set of hands currently not petting her, and is circling Eddie, waiting for him to reach down and pet her but he just stands completely still, heading tracking her in her circles.

"She's friendly, I promise," Steve calls out, which makes Eddie's head snap up to look for the source of the voice. Well, everyone looks, but Eddie looks like he's seeing a ghost, which. Fair. Steve kind of feels the same way.

"Hello, Dingus," Robin calls as she stands from her crouched position, where she's been cuddling Chowder. As soon as she stands, he starts making his way back to the porch. "I have delivered one Edward Keaton Munson. You are not allowed to ask anything of me for, at minimum, a year."

"Steve! Why didn't you tell me you knew the Eddie Munson?" Dustin shouts.

Robin is scoffing, clearly offended. "Am I not famous enough for you Henderson!?"

"Get back to me when you've run a 24-hour Dungeons and Dragons live stream for charity!" Dustin shoots back, then has to dodge Robin's half-hearted punch aimed for his arm.

Eddie stays silent, looking more pale than when he got out of the truck. Steve's a little concerned he's going to faint.

"You been living under a rock, Dustin?" Steve asks. "My knowing him is apparently the only thing on the internet currently."

Dustin puts his whole head into the eye roll. "You spend a month backpacking with your girlfriend in the southern hemisphere and you never get to hear the end of it. I told you I'd catch up on your drama after I catch up on my DnD Live Plays."

"You also missed me winning a Grammy, you know."

"I thought Steve's thing was more important?"

"You are impossible, Henderson."

"You guys going to argue in the snow all afternoon, or do you want to come inside?" Steve says then places his fingers in his mouth and whistles. Melody and Pancake dash for the front door, where Chowder is already waiting. Dustin, Robin, and a still eerily quiet Eddie fall into line to walk the trail to the porch Steve had cleared.

Steve jumps the steps, grabs his thermos, lets the dogs in, and then holds the door for everyone else. Robin and Dustin breeze past, but Eddie slows, eyes jumping around Steve's face as they just look at each other for a moment. Eddie opens, then closes, then opens, then closes his mouth.

"Hi," Steve offers up, shifting a foot to hold the door open so he can wave his fingers at Eddie.

Eddie swallows thickly, then whispers back, "hey."

"In the house, Eddie. Don't want to let too much cold in," Steve tilts his head towards the doorway.

"Oh, right, sorry," that kick starts Eddie again and he crosses the threshold, Steve close behind.

Robin and Dustin are currently occupying the bench just inside the door, taking off their shoes. Once Dustin has his boots off, he leaves the bench, heading to the kitchen. Eddie seems lost, just standing in the entryway, so Steve takes the spot Dustin just left and proceeds to undo the laces on his boots. He gets one boot done by the time Robin stands, wandering after Dustin once she's hung up her coat, scarf, and gloves. Eddie doesn't move still, so Steve pats the empty spot beside him.

"No shoes in the cabin. Dogs track in enough snow, don't need us doing it too," Steve says, then busies himself with his other boot.

He sees Eddie sit and begin to untie his- jesus, he's not even wearing boots. Just a black pair of sneakers. Eddie unties his shoes in silence, sitting rather stiffly next to Steve.

This quiet, obedient Eddie is not what he expected.

"You want something to drink?" Steve asks, once both of them are free of their shoes.

"No, thank you."

"Alright. Have a seat, then," he gestures towards the couch. The cabin door opens up directly into the living area, which Steve has set up as 3/4th a living room and 1/4th dining room, in that a small kitchen table is along the far wall. Beyond that wall is the kitchen, where Robin and Dustin are undoubtedly helping themselves to his coffee or hot chocolate.

Eddie shuffles off to sit on the edge of the couch, as close to the armrest as he can get. Now that Steve can see him closer, he can see he's added more piercing to his face than just the eyebrow ring he wore in high school. Snake bites, a septum piercing, and a second eyebrow ring next to the original. He's sure that if Eddie's hair wasn't covering his ears, he'd see more metal there. Eddie had hung up the coat he'd been wearing but under that is a hoodie he didn't take off, so Steve can only guess if he ever got those tattoos he'd been planning in high school. His entire outfit is black, which just makes him look sickly in the cabin lighting.

Steve drops himself into the chair facing the couch. It's Melody's favorite chair to curl up in, but Steve thinks she'll forgive him for taking it. There's tension in the room, so he tries to break it. "You look like you've seen a ghost, dude."

Eddie makes a weird nose, almost a whimper or a whine, but before he can say anything, Robin rounds the wall, holding a mug of hot liquid and she says, "Oh, I'm sure he feels that he has. I didn't tell me we were coming to see you."

"Robin!" Steve is shocked.

"What? You said you wouldn't mind getting some closure, so I got him here. Does it matter how?" She takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Eddie, making a show of how comfortable she is in the space by sitting cross-legged and leaning back against the couch, in comparison to Eddie who is sitting up completely straight, barely on the couch with how close to the edge he's sitting.

"Yeah, it does! If he's not here voluntarily- if Eddie doesn't want to talk to me you can't-"

"I do," Eddie says. It grabs Steve and Robin's attention and Steve sees Eddie almost wilt under their twin stares. He clears his throat before continuing, "I mean, I would have come still, if she'd told me. I do want to talk to you. Apologize for.... for everything. So much I don't even know where to begin, or how."

"Uhh, this feels like something personal," Dustin says from where he's standing with his own mug, hovering nearby. "Should I be here for this?"

Good question. Steve doesn't care if Robin and Dustin hear what they talk about, but Eddie might. "How about we just relax a bit. How was the drive?"

Eddie scrunches his face, a half confused expression on his face.

"Fine," Robin says at the same time Dustin says, "Tense as fuck."

"Those two things don't seem like they match," Steve says.

Dustin moves to plop himself on the couch in between Eddie and Robin, then quietly curses as his drink sloshes over the edge of the mug. He starts mopping at it with the sleeve of his shirt as he says, "Robin is a liar. The tension in the truck is going to linger that's how bad it was. I'll be feeling the tension every time I get in the rig. Clients will feel the tension when I pull up to their curbs!"

"It was not that bad!" Robin swats Dustin. Successfully this time, since there's no way for him to dodge unless he wants to spill his drink again.

Steve just laughs. "Robs, light of my life, mate of my soul, knowing you and your grudges, Dustin's probably going easy on the description of the tension here."

"Well, there wouldn't be tension if I was allowed to say what I want to say."

"Can we go, like, five minutes without your negativity?"

"My negativity!? I'm not negative, I'm rational and level-headed!"

"You are not sounding very level-headed right now."

Dustin chimes in, "Steve's right. Level-headed people don't have to shout that they're level-headed."

"What say you, Eds?" Steve asks, the old nickname slipping out. He doesn't have time to be embarrassed about it though.

Eddie stands quickly and flings his hands in the air, having reached an invisible limit Steve is unaware of, pacing about the living room as he basically shouts, "Why don't you hate me!? You should hate me! I hate me! I can't- why are you just sitting there, trying to have a-a decent conversation with me? You should be screaming at me! You should be mad! Why aren't you? My fuckin' song ruined your life!"

The silence in the living room is heavy following that, all eyes on Eddie. Even the dogs, who had been in various states of sleep, lift their heads and look in Eddie's direction.

He looks mortified by the out burst, and his face turns red. "I-I'm sorry. I- I'm just, I'm sorry. I need air."

They all watch silently as Eddie jams his shoes back on and goes out the front door without tying them or grabbing his coat.

Steve sighs, deep and annoyed. At Robin and himself. He looks to Robin and she looks shocked by Eddie's outburst. She was watching the door, but turns her head to meet Steve's eye, a small frown on her face.

"Well, it's not like he's going far," Dustin says. "You going after him?"

"I don't know if I should."

Dustin scoffs. "Don't be an idiot, of course you should. We drug that guy to the middle of nowhere to talk to you. He agreed to come to the middle of nowhere even though I could have been a hit man hired by Robin to off him in the woods and he didn't even complain. Didn't even question. I don't know what happened, but I think you two need talk it over."

Steve blinks at Dustin. "Since when did you get so wise?"

"I've always been wise. You just refuse to see it with your ageism. Go. Robin can fill me in on the beef, here in the toasty, cozy cabin, while you two chat in the cold, and freeze your asses off."

"I don't have ageism-"

"Wrong argument to be having, Steve!" Dustin interrupts. "And take another cup of coffee with you. Even if he doesn't drink it, dude doesn't have gloves either so y'know, warm the hands."

Steve does just that. Fills his other thermos with coffee, taking a chance by adding cream and sugar, before putting his boots, coat, and beanie back on. He throws Eddie's coat over his arm and tucks both thermos' against his body with that same arm so he can have a free hand to open the door.

Eddie isn't far. He's pacing back and forth in front of the truck, talking to himself.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Steve steps off the porch and makes his way to Eddie. "Hey."

The pacing stops and Eddie turns to look at Steve. They just look at each other as Steve approaches. Steve doesn't stop until he's close enough to reach out and touch before he shuffles the two thermos's to his other arm and extends the one with Eddie's coat on it out.

"Thank you," Eddie says, taking the coat and shoving himself into it quickly.

"Brought you coffee, too," Steve holds out one thermos and after a pause, Eddie takes it, too, then almost instantly brings his other hand up to cradle it, warming his fingers.

He looks up from the thermos and meets Steve's eye. "I am sorry, Steve. I'm sorry for how things ended between us, and for the song I wrote, and for-for not thinking about how people would be able to work out that you were the Steve from Hey Steve. You should hate me for that alone. I'm so sorry for everything that's happened because I didn't think of the consequences."

"I don't- I don't hate you man. Not... not anymore. Not for a long time."

"Well, you should!"

Steve frowns. He wants to argue because who is Eddie to tell him how he should feel? But that's not going to help anything. "When Robin called me. During her interview after the Grammy's and asked if she could tell the truth I never- I didn't know what she meant by the truth. But. Well, nothing she said was a lie, but it wasn't the full story."

Eddie stays silent, seemingly waiting for Steve to continue.

"Those first two years after our breakup were- I'm not going to lie, they were fucking awful. I think I received my first bit of hate mail the very same day Hey Steve released. It was harsh. All from the same person, but sent to my Facebook and my Twitter and Instagram. Guess they really wanted me to read it.

"And then, with each passing day, a new person, new message, just as awful. After three days I deleted Instagram and Twitter. Then I locked down Facebook but like- physical letters showed up at my house. I can't lie, it certainly felt like you'd ruined my life."

Eddie makes a wounded sound at that. "That's because I did! What I did was unforgivable and-"

"You don't get to decide for me if I forgive you or not!" Steve snaps. "I haven't actually said I did forgive you, did I? All I've said is I don't hate you."

That gets Eddie quiet again for a moment, then he says, "you ended up hospitalized because of me."

"Robin said I ended up hospitalized, and that's true, but it wasn't- It was more complicated that just being your, and your fans', fault. For people who were supposedly on 'your side' of our breakup, they used a lot of homophobic language. That's how my mom found out. The letters were easy enough to just get rid of because all the bad shit was on the inside, but someone sent a post card, and mom collected the mail that day. It's... I don't like talking about this."

"Then don't," Eddie is quick to say, "you don't have to explain anything to me, or make yourself relive these events. It's- you don't owe that to me."

"I think I need to. I wrote you a song, said I'd do it all again, and I meant that. I want you to understand why. Just. Just give me a minute."

Eddie nods and takes a sip of his coffee. He looks pleasantly surprised and takes bigger drink before his face falls into a frown as he stares down at the thermos and Steve has to look away. He turns and squeezes his eyes shut to continue. "Mom showed the postcard to my father, and he confronted me that evening. It was.... it didn't start off bad. He asked if it was true. That I was gay. I made a choice, then. I didn't have to; I could have lied. I could have told him I was straight and that I didn't understand what the postcard was saying, but I didn't.

"I knew how he felt about queer people, and I told him the truth anyway. I was bisexual. I thought it was a miracle that he didn't kick me out instantly. Instead, he calmly asked me if that meant I liked woman. I said it meant I liked more than just woman.

"Then he told me that didn't matter. That so long as I liked woman, I would be with a woman, and that we never had to speak of this again. And I told him no. He didn't get to decide that for me. He said that he would rather have a dead son than a faggot one. And I thought- I never- surely he was just meaning, like, metaphorically, right? Like, he'd disown me, kick me out or something so I scoffed and said- God, I was so stupid. I knew it wasn't safe, but I was so angry at him, I shouted 'dead or alive, I'm your faggot son so deal with it.' And he- he said 'dead it is' and he attacked me."

He hears Eddie suck in a breath, hears the crunch of snow in what could only be Eddie taking a step towards him but stopping after just one step. Steve doesn't know if he wants Eddie to close the distance and give him the hug he knows Eddie wants to do. Steve doesn't know if he'd welcome the embrace or not. He sucks in his own shaky breath, and continues, "He almost beat me to death that night. The only reason he didn't was because mom dialed 911," Steve turns around, looks at Eddie and sees the tears falling down his own face reflected on Eddie. "As far as I know, dad's still serving time for his attempted murder, so like, at least I don't have to worry about him. And mom... I don't even know what to think of that.

"She called 911, didn't want to see me die, I guess, but also couldn't have a gay son. She sold the house, and everything in it, while I was still in the hospital, and just... disappeared. Robin's family took me in. She told that story during the interview, you knoe, but I wasn't even at the house when that guy with the gun showed up. I was meeting with a lawyer.

"She-Mom was- I don't know what she was trying to do but she gave me the family business. The whole company! It felt like she was trying to buy my forgiveness, except she didn't ask for it and still hasn't contacted me. It's like... she felt guilty about what happened but hated me at the same time. Felt she needed to do something to alleviate her guilt? Or maybe she just wanted to cut herself free of the whole Harrington name; free herself from me and my father. I don't think I'll ever get closure for that one."

Steve quits talking, needs to take another moment. He'd already rambled on about more than he meant to but talking to Eddie had always done that to him. Afterall, before they dated, they'd been friends. He sips at his coffee, not knowing what else to say.

"Jesus, Stevie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know- It's no excuse but I'm just so sorry."

He doesn't think Eddie knows he called him Stevie, but it's nice to hear. "So, see, it wasn't your fault. Your song set things into motion, for sure, so it's nice to hear an apology, but like, if anyone is the bad guy in this situation, it's Richard Harrington."

"But Robin said she just had to help you move to here. That you still get hate mail, and doxxed. That's on me. I saw your list of addresses, Steve! You've had to move, like, eight times a year!"

Steve can't help the cackle that springs from him. He surprises himself with the laugh, and Eddie, too, if his wide eyes and eyebrows hidden behind his bangs are any indication. "I- yeah, I move a lot. And yes, this most recent move was because of a brick with Hey Steve scratched into it broke my living room window, but like, I've only had to move because of harassment like, four times, if I'm counting the whole mom-selling-the-house thing."

"What?"

Steve holds up a finger, adding a new one as he counts them out. "Mom sold house. Scary gun guy at Robin's. The year anniversary of your first album's release. I was still in Hawkins, figuring out what to do with all the money I'd, uhh, inherited I guess, so I was easy to find. And the most recent one. Not sure what inspired it this time. Usually, the hate mail resurges when you go on tour, but it's less and less every time. Anyway, none of those other moves are because of crazy fans."

Eddie blinks at him, a picture of confusion. "But I found a YouTube video and that guy- he showed all your old addresses. He said- I thought..."

"Well, there are a lot of addresses. But not because of your fans. I move for my job. Do you... did you even read the truck?" Steve gestures to Dustin's truck and Eddie steps around to see the printed H&H Project Flip and below that is their website.

Eddie looks back to Steve like that answers nothing. Which, fair, but it would answer a lot of questions if Eddie had looked up the website. "After that surge of anniversary hate, I knew I needed to get out of Hawkins. Robin was graduated, then, and headed to college. I decided I wanted to see more than just Hawkins. I followed Robin to college in Chicago, and uh, bought a house. A real fixer upper but that was fine. I had plenty of money to throw into it. On a whim I thought, what if I try to fix it. I had a lot of free time and if it ended up badly, I could afford to pay a professional to fix whatever I broke. I found that I loved doing that."

He's still just being looked at like he's not making sense.

Steve rolls his eyes, "I flip houses, dude. Me and Dustin. Harrington and Henderson Project Flip. I was in Chicago for three years, lots of addresses for that city. But then Robin pointed out there were a lot of states. That I should see all 50 of 'em by renovating a house in each. She'd moved in with her then-girlfriend by this time, so she said I should go. See the States at the least. So, I did. I find it easier to just live in the house I'm renovating, so I'm not paying mortgage and then rent somewhere else in the same city."

Eddie looks like he's had a rug pulled out from under him and he lets out a laugh that's a little hysterical.

"And moving so much has allowed me to meet so many amazing people, y'know? I got friends in all the states. So, like, yeah, you did ruin my life, but like, just my life from 18 to 20. So, yeah, I'd do it all again. Did you think I've been living in perpetual misery for the last ten years?"

"Robin certainly made it easy to assume that, so yeah!"

"I think she did that on purpose. To hurt you back."

"I deserve it," Eddie says. "I didn't even try to check in on you. Well, once, but when I couldn't find you on any socials I just. Gave up."

Steve shrugs. "I didn't reach out either. And if you'll remember, I broke up with you. Screamed in your face that we were over and went home."

"I don't know when, or even if, Corroded Coffin will tour again, but I swear to you, we'll never play or release Hey Steve again. And I'll release a statement, or go on camera, or something, and address this. I can't make it right, but I can make a change starting now, to do better and be better," Eddie says this while gripping his thermos to death.

"I believe you, and I forgive you."

Eddie nods grimly, then looks from Steve to the cabin, and back to Steve. "Do you think Robin will ever forgive me?"

"I don't know. You hurt her pretty badly, too. We were all best friends in school and when we broke up, you cut off Robin, too. And then, when she started to gain her own fame- I think when she first moved to LA, she thought you'd try to reach out. But you never did."

A silence falls over them, and Steve refuses to break it. He's done enough talking. They drink their coffees 'til they're empty before Eddie speaks.

"Where does this leave us?"

Steve thinks about it before answering. "You were my best friend before you were my boyfriend. You'd been in my life longer than you've been out of it. We don't have to be anything. We can have our closure and go our separate ways, if you'd prefer. But, I think I'd like another chance at being your friend."

"I can do friend," Eddie says slowly, like he's picking his words carefully. "I can. But, full transparency, I think I still love you."

It hurts to hear, after all the pain and the time, and it's a bittersweet kind of hurt. "I'll always love you, Eds. I meant it, you know, every word of the song. But I don't know if we can, or should, try again. We were so good until we weren't."

Tears spring from Eddie's eyes when Steve says he loves him, and they don't stop falling even as he's nodding along with everything Steve says. "No, I know. I know. I just, I needed you to know. Friend is, it's so fucking great. More than I ever expected, and certainly more than I dared hope."

"Come on. Let's go inside where it's warm and chat with Dustin and Robin like civilized people. I need a break from the heavy talk."

"Yeah. Me too. Thank you, Steve. For the chance."

Steve shrugs and shoots him a crooked grin. "Yeah, well, ruin this a second time and Robin will rip you to shreds on live TV, probably."

There's more to talk about. More hurts to heal and things to discuss, Steve knows. And maybe after all the talking, they'll learn they've changed too much to even be friends. But that'll be okay, because if that's how it goes, it'll be because they talked it out instead of screaming at each other in a living room.

If they've changed too much, this time, it'll end gently.

It doesn't stop Steve from letting a little bit of hope in. That this won't end, that they can find a way to be in each other's lives again.

As friends, or more.

#steddie #my fic #the interview #prepare yourself for the whiplash of a full tonal shift in the story as we switch to steves POV #tw: homophobia #tw: assault #Steve discusses his assault/subsequent hospitalization. I tried to not go into too much detail but proceed with caution if thats a trigger #there is also the use of the word faggot as a slur #also! there is a point where steve casually says robin has a girlfriend #this is NOT an accidental outing. Robin is an out and proud lesbian singer/song writer/grammy winner #also.... maybe there will be an epilogue? I am debating.#if you wanna be informed on the epilogue #subscribe to the fic on ao3 cause it'll alert you if i add another chapter

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companionwolf · 2 months ago

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I MISS K-CELL

#wolf barking #they didnt go anywhere i just miss them #operation summer afternoon #wolfs solo games: ultra green

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allthecanadianpolitics · 5 months ago

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A long-time Jasper business owner said this summer was his best yet — until his family was forced to close up, pack up and flee the raging wildfire that tore through the town Wednesday.

Glen Leitch and his wife Wendy Leitch own and operate the Patricia Street Deli, which recently celebrated 20 years in business. Now, the couple isn't sure when – and if – they will be able to open again.

"It's been a wonderful ride," Glen said. "Not saying it's over, but I will say it's been heartbreaking to see, no matter what we did, we had to leave and we don't know what we're going home to."

Glen and Wendy arrived in Beaumont Thursday afternoon after driving 1,500 kilometres from Jasper to B.C. and back to Alberta after an evacuation order was issued for the entire Jasper National Park on Monday night. [...]

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland, @abpoli

#cdnpoli #Jasper #Alberta #British Columbia #natural disasters

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darklydeliciousdesires · 7 months ago

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Improper - A Luca Changretta/Reader One Shot Story.

Ahhh, this took me back to my youth, besties, writing the experience of a first time with a first love! So yes, as I mentioned yesterday, this features a young!Luca, he and reader both losing their virginity to one another ahead of their wedding. Because they're naughty. Haha! Enjoy :)

Words - 3,750

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

He was always the handsomest boy in school, with the darkest hair and the most irresistible, peridot flecked eyes, the Italian blood running through his veins giving him something extra where appearance was concerned. Nobody else looked anything like Luca Changretta. He was tall, too. Even at twelve when you both left the classroom behind, but god, what four years did to that handsome boy, turning him into the most gorgeous young man you’d ever laid eyes upon.

He knew it, too. Knew what he had. Knew he looked more like a twenty-year-old than a kid of sixteen. Knew there were grown women in their early twenties who – as they put it - ‘wouldn’t half give that Changretta lad a run for his money, I can tell you!’ as they viewed him with lust in their eyes, their improper thoughts spoken in hushed whisper. After all, for a lady to speak that is wholly uncouth, but you could scarcely blame them. He is magnificently handsome.

Luca doesn’t want them, though. His desire only has eyes for one. You.

Mills & Floss is a small factory operation right on the boundary between Small Heath and Bordesley Green, where you’ve found work as a sewing machine operative. From seven in the morning until four in the afternoon, your fingers feed delicate fabrics into a sewing machine. Curtains, tablecloths, cushion covers, everything relating to home furnishings. It’s tedious work, but it’s a wage, a few vital shillings to go towards your mother’s pot at the end of every week to pay your keep.

In your household, you either worked or you married. The latter was going to happen, too, your parents and Luca’s arranging everything, a summer wedding scheduled for that year of 1896. With just weeks to wait, it will be simply wonderful; no longer seeing him under the supervision of a chaperone, free to do whatever you want with the boy who has enamoured you completely.

What you want above all? Well, it’s what all young people wish for secretly, beneath the veil of modesty and properness. As it turns out, you will receive it much sooner than your wedding night, too.

“’Ere! Your young man is waiting for you outside, (Y/N)!”

Your head shoots up from where you’ve been retying your bootlace, the boom of Victoria, the loudest of the sewing machine operatives reaching you from the window she peers out of. Bustling over to her side, your grin widens in an instant to see your love there, the women all cooing softly as they notice the rosy blush flushing your cheeks.

“No chaperone either, ooh! Now there’s a thing!” Elsie, a girl of your age whispers, all the women giggling.

You wave a dismissive hand. “There is bound to be one. His cousin will be milling around somewhere, he always is.” Indeed, your meetings with Luca are always supervised, that supervision usually coming in the form of both of your parents when the families meet for dinner, or Fabrizio, Luca’s cousin, who watches you both like a hawk should Luca call to court you away from either of the family homes.

Even a simple stroll around the centre of Birmingham, or a visit to the park to spectate at the band stand, and you must be escorted by a third.

It is a surprise to have your love meet you from work, even more so that when you peer into the street below, there is no sign of Fabrizio. You were expecting them both a little later to call upon you at home, Luca mentioning something about a walk to the local boating lake.

“He’s probably gone to buy cigarettes.” You decree, feeling a little uncomfortable about the connotations of it, your love waiting for you with no chaperone in sight. What would people think? Moving away, you collect your little lacy shawl and wrap it around your shoulders, lifting your dress as you take the stairs down to the bottom floor, past the rows of sewing machines now come to a still, the factory about to close for the day.

“Afternoon,” Luca greets you with casually, chewing on a matchstick nonchalantly, removing it to take your hand and kiss it. “You look beautiful, as always.”

Oh, his charm. He’d be insufferable with that little slither of arrogance, if he wasn’t so damned cute with it, too. It's the little hint of boy there still lurking within the tall, gorgeous young man that sets your heart to flutter every single time.

“Thank you,” you smile, “and you appear to be missing a cousin.”

The way his lips curl into a grin has your insides melting. He never fails to make you swoon. “I am. Do you want to know what else I’m missing?” he asks, loosely draping his arms around your waist.

“Go on,” you urge.

He leans to your ear, fingers teasing a little circle over the boning of your bodice. “Parents at my house. They’re out until later tonight, Angel is god knows where, so I have an empty house and beautiful girl I want to take back to enjoy it in.”

Your gasp has him laughing softly. “Luca! You don’t mean...”

“I do.” He continues to laugh as you take his arm, walking away from the factory. “You need to stop with that prim and proper demeanour. When Fabrizio left us alone last time, the way you kissed me said loud and clear exactly what you wanted.”

You can’t help but tease a little in the face of his cockiness. “And what do I want, Luca?”

“Me,” he begins, leaning in close, “naked against you, pushing my nice, thick cock right up into your...”

“That’s enough!” A slap hits his chest, your love laughing loudly. “At least in public.”

Those words put a definite spring in his step as you walk towards the horse tram stop. Luca’s house isn’t too far, but with an added urgency to return, a faster means of transportation than mere feet upon cobblestones is required. He pays for you both while you greet the two beautiful, black shire horses with a stroke upon their velvety muzzles, climbing aboard to sit at the rear.

The tram moves off after a few more people have climbed aboard, and for the entire duration of the journey, you are beside yourself with nerves and excitement in equal measures. Sex before marriage is scandalous, shocking behaviour, definitely not to be partaken of. Your love is not the type of man to be so dissuaded, though. He’s rebellious through and through, and that in itself makes it all the more exciting.

You’re about to go and partake in something very enjoyable; the reality that you both know you shouldn’t be doing it only adds to the thrill. As does the fact that he sits with his hand rested upon your thigh, fingertips gently squeezing.

“I can’t wait to take this dress off of you, peel away your underwear and kiss you all over, my sweet amore,” he whispers, kissing the side of your neck, making you shiver as you try not to grin. There’s an older woman sitting nearby, looking at you both with utter distain for such public displays of affection. “And I do mean all over.”

To kiss him right now would be enough, but hearing how he wants to place his mouth all over you has heat gently misting your skin, the confidence he shows over what’s about to happen adding to the heady rush. He’s never done it before, or at least if he has, he fibbed to you when he said that he hadn’t.

He speaks with all the confidence of a man who has enjoyed a woman, though, and goodness how it turns your senses inside out. It makes you feel daring and full of zest, enough to take your fan from the small bag you carry and flick it open, giving yourself a liberal wafting before holding it in front of your face, boldness ensnaring you, pulling him into a heated kiss behind it.

Those kisses have you tingling between your thighs, his tongue nudging and swirling with yours, pulling away from him before it gets a little too heated. You shan’t disgrace yourself publicly, although the move did attract a few negative eyes. All except for one lady, surprisingly the most elderly upon the horse tram, who chuckles to herself as you blush a little.

“Oh, ‘tis young love!” she admonishes the whispers of the other passengers. “Leave them be, for heaven’s sake!” Shaking her head, she turns to you. “These pompous women here, acting as if they never kissed a boy behind a fan. I certainly did when I was a girl.” She then stands, smoothing her billowing skirt, ready to alight. “Enjoy your afternoon, my darlings.”

“We will.” Luca chimes brightly, nudging your side. Oh, he truly is pure devilment. Those women still view him with utter distain, your love smirking, eyeing them back with defiance until they look away. They’ve picked the wrong lad here, if they wished for him to feel shame. You’re quite certain that Luca doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

Four stops later and you are climbing from the tram, taking his arm once more and walking a little further up Coventry Road, towards the townhouse the Changretta family call home. It is a stark difference to your own residence, your family not poor but not as wealthy as his, your home above the pub your parents run much less spacious. Luca even has his own bedroom, a foreign concept to you entirely, having to share with your younger sisters.

That bedroom is where he takes you after entering the empty house, removing your boots at the door as per Luca’s mother’s wishes, passed on through him. The anticipation ramps up with every step you take up the steep staircase, your heart thrumming as the nervousness of it winds through your belly.

Entering the room, you glance around, taking in your surroundings. The bed is actually a double, Luca having told you that already, that he enjoys spreading out as he sleeps so nagged his mother into it. It’ll be coming with you to your new home once you are married, along with all the dark, carved wooden furniture. Vincente and Audrey have been very generous in purchasing a little back-to-back for you to begin married life in, and you cannot wait until you are carried over the threshold in your wedding dress.

The only dress on your mind at the moment is the one your love’s hands smooth over as he stands behind you, fingers pattering over the fastening of your bodice as you remove your shawl, feeling the lacings binding you tightly begin to loosen. He pauses, and you feel him stiffen a little. He’s never undressed somebody before, of course.

Turning to him, you reach behind yourself, loosening the fastenings further, allowing you to wiggle yourself free of the tight restrictions, pulling the ribbon that ties your underskirt as well, the masses of fabric pooling in a froth around your ankles as you step from them. His eyes ink with lust at seeing you there before him only in undergarments, your hands still toying, unhooking your brassiere before revealing your breasts to his hungry eyes.

“I think the rest should be easy enough for you to take off yourself,” you speak, reaching for him.

His hands roam over your skin for the first time, and your heart pangs a little to feel them tremble against you, a little slip in the bravado he’s show so far. Unless those shudders are excited energy. Perhaps a little of both as he steps nearer, nuzzling you softly before his mouth covers yours.

The kisses you share are urgent, but not frantic, building steadily as you move with him to the bed. He sheds his jacket, your hands taking up the task of undoing his tie and shirt, the movements all a little awkward as he removes your undergarments. Seeing what lies beneath his clothes is a sight that you shall never forget, a beautiful, lean body ridged with slender muscles, smatterings of dark hair flecking his chest and belly, his light olive skin celestial soft and blemish free.

Your hands explore him, nails softly grazing, your lips pressing kisses against his chest. His skin is hot, sumptuous in feel, shaky hands wandering as you finally dare to lower your gaze. Oh, wow. So that’s what a cock looks like, swollen and hard, begging for your hand as it bobs a little. You’ve no clue what on earth to do with it, but the grasp and gentle tug as your fingers close around it pulls a soft groan from him.

He remains standing as you seat yourself on the edge of his bed, your hand running from the base to tip of him, tongue licking over the line of dark hair running down from his navel. A shy smile spreads across your mouth, tongue circling his navel, watching the way his hips tremble. You have him at your mercy, and the brand-new sensation of sexual power over him is a strong current that runs right through you.

“If you wanted to put your mouth where your hand is, I wouldn’t stop you,” he speaks, voice deepened a few octaves, that gravelled rasp making your cunt twitch.

Humming a chuckle, you flicker a lick over the head of him, his breath catching in his throat. “I bet you wouldn’t.” Participation is learning, you figure, guiding that silky skin covered steel to your lips and closing them around the head, sucking gently, his knees almost buckling. A little more pressure has him panting, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling the combs that keep it in its neat updo free to tumble, groaning as he watches himself vanish in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he grits, the cuss making your insides tighten pleasantly, “that’s so fucking good.” His praise spurs you, pausing to trail your tongue all over his hardness, your nails gently grazing his chest. You can feel his heart pounding hard, excitement that you are the one evoking such tingling over your bones as your eyes find his.

“I love the way it feels in my mouth. It’s bloody beautiful. I’ve heard the girls at work call them ugly, but yours isn’t.” You praise, licking the head with a little flicker, his moans deepening so much, you do it again. Trembles wrack his muscles, goose pimples rising over his skin, his hips beginning to sway back and forth, cusses falling from his mouth upon every groan until he pulls away suddenly, pushing you back onto the bed.

“Feels too good. Don't want to be spent before it’s even begun.” His lips meet yours, his body pinning you down into the bed, the heat of his skin wickedly beautiful as it presses to your nakedness. Hands and mouths wander, the exploration so shiny and new, flocks of butterflies blooming into flight in your belly, his mouth delivering keen kisses to your neck.

You inhale a sharp breath to feel the heat of his mouth suck upon your nipple, Luca shifting off you a little, access to stroke your body granted as his hand lowers, your thighs parting. That first stroke through your folds causes the breath to hitch in your throat, his lips finding yours, both panting against the kisses you share. You almost feel shame at how wet you are, a little embarrassed at the keenness your body shows, but the way his fingers feel as they glide over the silky petals of your cunt quickly diminish that.

He plays with you gently, each stroke lowering, a finger breaching you. You feel beautiful to him, slick and hot, heavenly upon the inside as your walls pulse upon his finger, adding a second, slowly pushing them back and forth. The pleasure of it darts hot beneath your skin, the sensation of a part of him within you, the intimacy of it, stroking his face as your hips buck up against his touch. On instinct, his fingers curl a little, and it sends lightning flickering up your spine, whimpering as he kisses your neck, his mouth descending as his body shifts down the bed.

His eyes shine with arousal as he finally reaches your sex, his fingers replaced, steering a firm lick between your folds. You whimper, that first contact so good, your legs close tightly around his head.

“Sorry,” you offer as he pushes them apart, Luca laughing quietly against the slick wet of you.

“At least I know you like it.” There’s an upside to being clamped between two thighs, you suppose. Another lick gilds you, sends warmth rushing over your skin, especially when you feel his tongue nudge at your little bud, your back arching as you gasp.

“There,” you pant, practically writhing before him. “Oh, right there!”

He seeks it, the tip of his tongue snaking back and forth, smiling as your reaction delights his ears, those sweet moans and cries like celestial music. He can’t get enough of how you feel against his mouth, the taste of you intoxicating as he laves thirstily, sucking, kissing your tender nub, tongue flicking over you, your nails trawling his scalp as he gives you exactly what you crave. The nectar of your cunt floods his tongue, and it makes his heart skip a beat, the intimacy of it, how much it arouses him to have his mouth all over your most sacred of places, the noises it draws from you making his cock throb.

“You taste beautiful.” he murmurs, arms winding beneath your thighs, gripping them, treating your aqueous slit to long, firm licks, evoking quivers that shiver you from head to toe. He grants no clemency from the hypnotic beat of his tongue over your bud, tasting your hot, pink folds with swirls and flickers as you gush onto his lips.

You twitch against each lick, every carefully administered circling of his hungry tongue, your hands gripping his slender shoulders, your hips keening against the utter glory of what his mouth conjures. He draws cusses from you as you pant, your body spasming so hard as he begins to suck your bud that you’re unsure if your response is of pulling away or shunting closer, crying out as you’re eaten with ruinous gusto.

He’s certainly thriving on doing this, and lord, how it shows.

He has you beginning to spark against each well-placed lick, his mouth making you tighten, your walls in full clench, only sated by the arrival of his fingers into your slick, raking firmly, a smile playing his lips as he watches you tremble.

The heat of his mouth has you literally melting for him, Luca panting against your dewy folds as he assails your clit with firm circles, driving out pleasure from the very root of you, skittering through you as your hips purl and flex, the waves of your release washing over you ceaselessly, leaving you a panting, shaking wreck. So, that’s what it feels like to come for somebody. Goodness, it felt like absolutely nothing else you could ever compare it to.

Pulling his head from between your legs, you fight for breath, your love leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses up your body until he’s claiming your lips once more. Reaching between you, he positions his cock at your still fluttering opening, nuzzling you sweetly, pushing until he slips in with ease.

Your body tenses for a second, expecting pain. You’ve heard that the first time hurts, but you feel absolutely nothing even remotely close to discomfort at taking him inside you, stroking one another tenderly as you kiss, your mutual gaze so loving and fond.

“Ahhh, fuck. You feel incredible,” he groans, stroking your face. “Does it feel okay? Not hurting you, am I, amore?”

His care touches you deeply, running your fingers through his soft, dark hair. “No, you feel perfect. You and your beautiful cock.” you chirp, making him laugh softly, that chuckle turning into a groan as he pushes a little deeper, filling you. The warm pool of syrupy heat bathing his cock sends little shocks skittering through him, the feel unlike anything else, ecstasy raining comets to burn his blood as those same little hails of light flicker through you.

It's a sensual, blooming rush of pleasure, your arms entwining one another, your bodies moving a little awkwardly together to begin with until the rise and fall is met with perfect sync, his mouth placing tender kisses at your neck. Every ridge of his cock scraping against your tender walls feels wickedly decadent, pleasure coiling tightly, his body quickening as you wrap your legs around his slender waist, nails digging into his back.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck me!” you wail, clutching on around him as he pounds you into the bed, head lowering to suck your nipple with a deep, gritty groan. The heat of it burns like a furnace, that pleasure winding ever tighter as you feel yourself escalating, your nails grazing down his back as your spine-melting release rushes like a spring breeze over your nerves. It’s white hot and consuming, feeling his cock twitching as his teeth clamp on your nipple and he floods your cunt with cum, leaving you dizzy and panting.

It feels like your entire body is a garden bursting into bloom beneath him, the sweetness of your release still tingling through you as you kiss him, feeling his cock gently twitching within the snug clasp of your sodden cunt. Oh, how you can barely wait to be his wife, and enjoy what you just did with him whenever you want to. You must admit, though, the fact that you shouldn’t have done it was half the fun of having sex with him in the first place.

Still, nothing can take the sheen of it away. That sheen lasts right up until your wedding day, hardly able to wait until he carries you across the threshold of your new home, placing you down in the lounge.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he sighs against your neck, unfastening your wedding gown.

You can’t help a little sarcasm. “Oh yes, those three weeks truly were an eternity, weren’t they?”

“Shut up,” he chides, slapping your bum. “Of course, they were. I knew how good what I had waiting for me was.”

It’s even better the second time around.

#luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta smut #lluca changretta x reader #luca changretta x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta fic

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edutainer2022 · 4 months ago

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I made it to Vienna for the week-long Digital Humanism event and I've been meaning to place Earth and Sky in Vienna for ages. This is an absolutely indulgent, decadent, undiluted fluff, full of bosom headcanons, informed by the first Sunday of fall here, drenched in sunlight, late summer flowers and classic German poetry. That's it, that's the story - Scott in Virgil go to Vienna and absolutely nothing hurts.

Thank you always to @janetm74 for putting up with my ramblings.

SUNLIGHT AND POETRY

He could smell the eye-wateringly expensive coffee first. Then the steps, muffled by luscious grass, were followed by a nondescript grunt that probably summarized the general state of the joint World Council, World Bank and GDF committee. An equally obscenely expensive suit jacket was thrown on the lawn unceremoniously to dub as a picnic blanket and, finally, the full length of Scott flopped and stretched beside him, wiggling to get comfortable. A goody bag with a tell-tale Zacher Hotel crest landed in Virgil's lap and he put aside the sketchbook, wasting no time to dig in. Coffee and the most luxurious chocolate cake in the world certainly worked the magic to improve Scott's mood and soon he was grinning up to the sky, although Virgil knew to look for signs of weariness in the corners of blue eyes. He was tempted to return to sketching, though - Scott's relaxed smiles, although in a far more ample supply after Dad's return, were still a rare treat.

Usually, it would be Virgil dragging biggest brother along to Vienna, when Opera was in season or an art exhibition Virgil didn't want to miss - a feat frequently accomplished with toddler-wrangling worthy bribery in form of copious amounts of Austrian finest street food and baked goods or the deployment of most deadly puppy eyes. The exasperated groan signaled that the odorous Wienerwurst from a digny kiosk on the corner of Bristol Hotel was still in the cards that day, much to the hotel staff's (and finest chefs') incessant bewilderment. The Tracies rented the penthouse floor at the historic Bristol, facing Vienna State Opera, for years, the place deemed secure enough by Kyrano Sr. all those years ago. That time, however, it was Virgil who tagged along whole Scott had a week of sessions set up with the Joint Committee of Global Services on the update of interoperable search and rescue policies. Trust Scott to spend his hard carved downtime on redrafting global policies and making the world a better and safer place.

That was just it, Dad having put his foot down (two, actually, and a fist) on IR rota expansion and rearranging operations with A LOT more of their habitual toll outsourced to GDF and local response services, they had more time to pursue their interests and develop their personal strengths. To have a life in an unironic way. But that also meant spending less time together on rescues, even on the island. Scott of course up and found himself the next all-consuming cause, so Virgil was kinda... missing him. Missing his best friend in the way he hadn't since Scott left for Yale, then for AirForce. Maybe it was the ever present thrum of dread over Scott involved in any thing GDF since... That Place... that got Virgil wistful and a bit clingy. Scott, naturally, didn't mind. They were having a great time, actually, reconvening in the afternoons for leisurely strolls, good food and uninterrupted talks about everything and nothing. Virgil treated himself to revising his favorite exhibits at Albertina and Kunst Museum, then took to camping out on sundrenched lawns of Burggarten, sketching statues or people around. He never felt as at home in Vienna as Scott did. Much as their ginger spaceman could fit right in on any red brick Gothic campus, Scott, all towering height and blue eyes, and slim athletic built, and structured suits just MATCHED the stately grandor of old imperial capitals. Virgil always felt too big and too rural American among the understated regal splendor of Vienna. But here, in the landscape informed by art, and the shade of Mozart's monument, and calm, and familial bonding, he was in his element.

Scott was stretching in the evening sun, like a giant cat, and blinking his eyes slowly at Virgil - that definitely called for a sketch.

Chocolate treats were, apparently, Scott not only loot that afternoon. He shifted to the side, wiggled a hand into the suit pocket and produced a small tattered volume. Faded gilded embossing and yellowed pages belied the treasure only found in antique bookshops. Virgil wasn't surprised when Scott started reading. One of the Tracy family best kept secrets was Scott's affinity for classic reading. Passionate, well-spoken and charismatic - Scott was the darling of every AP English class teacher, the Speech and Oratory Team captain and persistently courted for a graduate degree in French Modernism through his Lit Elective at Yale. In a different life Scott would have been an inspirational military leader, a kickass defense attorney or an Office-track politician and public speaker. But a different life had not been in the cards for Jeff Tracy's eldest Son and Heir.

What DID surprise Virgil was Scott settling up to read out loud. In German.

"Wem der große Wurf gelungen

Eines Freundes Freund zu sein;

Wer ein holdes Weib errungen

Mische seinen Jubel ein!"*

And raven brow shot up quizzically and in perfect synchrony the shit-eating grin erupted:

"What?! I'm his brother too!"

"To the point of speaking German?"

The grin faded a shade. Damn.

"To the point of speaking World Bank finance and AirForce parade drills with the old European Uninion Anthem. Schiller's statue is right OVER THERE, I was in the mood."

The returned smile was muted, but mellow. Virgil thought back to an old comedy, "what? like it's HARD?" almost audible in big brother's nonchalant shrug.

Only Scott Tracy would make a point to swing by a rare books shop and get himself a 1820s copy when he felt like reciting Schiller's poetry on a sunny afternoon in the old royal palace park. Virgil certainly hoped that indulgence streak broadened and became a habit.

----

* A stanza from Ode to Joy, Friedrich Schieller

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #virgil tracy #earth and sky #methinks i have astronomy #my fic

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lesbehonestsstuff · 2 months ago

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Catholic guilt - part 4

Casey Novak has always been the good catholic girl. Always perfect, always trying to meet high expectations. But she doesn't understand why she feels no interested in the boys who flirted with her, why her eyes instead linger on other girls.

Word count: 3463

Chapter 4/?

Shoutout to @ihaveathingforwomen for helping me figure out this chapter <3

It was mid afternoon as Casey and Alex strolled down the familiar streets, the air warm with the start of summer. Casey’s curiosity had been building ever since Alex had shown up that morning with the promise of a surprise date.

Casey tugged at Alex’s sleeve, her curiosity mounting as they walked down the street, Alex had been tight-lipped all afternoon, a playful smirk on her lips as she led them toward their date destination.

"Will you tell me where we are going already?" Casey asked, trying to pull more information out of her girlfriend.

Alex chuckled, her hand squeezing Casey’s briefly before she slipped it back into her pocket, glancing around. "It’s a surprise, Case. Don’t you like surprises?"

Even though they’d been together for months, the secrecy surrounding their relationship was still a weight on their chest. But being together made that weight feel lighter, like they could breathe.

Casey huffed, though she couldn’t help but smile. "I mean, I do, but you’re being awfully suspicious."

"Am I?" Alex teased back,she leaned in closer her voice dipping low in that way that always made Casey’s stomach flip."Don’t worry. You’re going to love it."

A few more steps, and suddenly, Casey caught the sounds of distant carnival music, the excited shouts of people, and the sweet smell of sugar drifting through the air. The local fair came into view, its bright lights and spinning rides now in full view.

Casey’s eyes widened as she turned to Alex, a smile tugging at her lips. "The fair?!”

Alex shrugged with a grin. "Well, I figured we deserved some fun."

Casey’s heart fluttered at the thoughtfulness of it. "That sounds perfect… but isn’t it a bit too public?"

Alex gave her a reassuring glance, lowering her voice, her hand ghosting near Casey’s. "There are going to be so many people and crowds, no one will be paying attention to us. Where did you tell your mom you were going today?"

"I told her I had softball practice until late," Casey said, a bit of nervous laughter in her voice.

"Perfect," Alex said with a smile. "Then relax. Let’s play some rigged games."

They wandered deeper into the fair, the bright colors and noise a perfect backdrop for their hidden glances and quiet touches. It was exhilarating, but nerve-wracking all the same. Each time they passed a group of people, Casey would feel her stomach twist in knots, but Alex kept her close. Just a brush of their hands here a shared smile there, she trusted Alex. In this crowd, no one would notice two girls stealing moments of affection.

When they passed a booth filled with stuffed animals hanging overhead, Alex paused, looking at the game where you had to knock down three rows of bottles with a ball. She paid the booth operator and picked up one of the balls, a determined look on her face.

"I’ve got this," she said confidently.

Casey raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back a laugh. "You’ve got this? Lexie, you’re good at a lot of things but you suck at sports."

"Well I’m good at geometry so that’s got to count for something," Alex replied with a smirk.

Casey snorted, stepping up to the booth alongside her. "Geometry and hand-eye coordination are two very different things."

Alex shot her a playfull glare “Well not all of us can be softball players with great aim and strong hot arms” she threw the ball, and it flew wide, missing the bottles. She frowned, biting her lip. Casey, still grinning, stepped forward, taking another ball into her hand.

"Here," Casey said softly, stepping behind Alex. "Let me show you how." She stood behind Alex, guiding her hands to hold the ball correctly. Alex froze for a moment surprised by Casey’s touch, a blush creeping up her neck, but she didn’t move away. Casey’s body pressed against hers, and for a second, all Alex could focus on was the warmth of her girlfriend’s touch.

"Just follow my hand," Casey whispered, her lips brushing against Alex’s ear. With that, Casey guided Alex’s arm back and then forward, the ball hitting the center bottle and knocking it down.

Alex turned her head slightly, catching Casey’s eyes. "I did it."

Casey smiled, her face just inches from Alex’s. "You did"

They lingered in that closeness for a second longer than necessary before Casey reluctantly pulled away, her hand brushing against Alex’s as she stepped aside. Alex picked out a small stuffed bear from the prize rack, holding it out to Casey, a soft smile on her lips.

"For you," she said.

Casey took the bear, blushing at the gesture. "I thought you won it."

"Let’s call it a team effort," Alex replied with a grin, her eyes full of love.

They wandered off, the smell of fried food wafting through the air which made Casey’s stomach let out a low growl, making Alex laugh. After months of dating she had discovered that her girlfriend was pretty much a bottomless pit, she trained so much that her body was almost always demanding food so she had made it a habit of carrying snacks for her.

She gave Casey a wide smile looking over the food stands "Guess that’s our next stop," she said, gesturing for Casey to pick. The smell of fried dough and sugar filled the air, and Casey’s eyes lit up.

"I could definitely go for a funnel cake," Casey said, glancing around the fair’s food stalls.

Alex nodded, and they got in line, eventually grabbing a paper plate piled high with a warm, crispy funnel cake. They found a quiet bench a little ways off from the main bustle of the fair and sat down.

Casey took the first bite her eyes lightening up the moment the powdered sugar and fried dough where in her mouth. She tore off a piece and held it out to Alex, smiling when Alex raised an eyebrow at her. "You’ve got to try this!"

Alex leaned forward, taking the piece from Casey’s fingers. Her lips brushed lightly against Casey’s fingertips, sending a shiver through her. They smiled at each other, the sweetness of the moment brief as they pulled away quickly.

"You’re right," Alex said, licking a bit of sugar from her lips. "This was a good choice."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, stealing glances and smiles between bites. Every so often, their knees would bump, or Alex would brush her foot lightly against Casey’s leg, sending sparks between them.

Casey, licking powdered sugar from her lips, glanced at Alex. "I never would’ve imagined you liking these sorts of things."

"Why not?" Alex replied, taking another bite, looking at the people passing by laughing and enjoying the chaos of the fair . "They’re fun. Ridiculous, but fun."

“I don’t know, you’re from the city, you don’t strike me as the country fair type” she snickered shoving the last piece Alex left her into her mouth.

Alex grabbed her hand under the table and gave it a light squeeze “Well I can’t said my parents ever took me to one but I do enjoy it, especially if I’m with you and get to watch how happy you are” she smiled and watched the way Caseys eyes seemed to sparkle with the string of lights above them. She loved Casey’s eyes, her smile, her dimples. She would do whatever it took to make her smile, to make her happy.

Alex squeezed her hand again. "Maybe it’s not the fair I’m enjoying. Maybe it’s just being here with you."

A tint of red covered Casey’s cheeks and Alex was sure she would never get tired of seeing her blush. “Well I am happy, this is a great date” She had the urge to lean in and kiss her but stoped herself before she could.

With the plate was empty, Alex stood and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.

"Come on," she said, offering Casey her hand. "There’s something else we need to do."

Casey hesitated for a second, glancing around at the crowded fairgrounds. "Isn’t this a bit risky?"

"There’s going to be so many people, no one’s looking at us. I promise. Plus holding your hand for a second won’t kill us" Alex gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, I’ve got something planned."

She dragged Casey through the crowd, looking back to see her laughing at Alex’s rush and it sent a feeling of warmth inside her. The fair’s ferris wheel towered in the distance, its brightly colored lights twinkling against the darkening sky. Alex pulled them toward it, and before long, they were sitting side by side in one of the little cabins, slowly lifting into the sky.

As the wheel turned, taking them higher and higher, the noise of the fair faded, leaving only the sounds of the night and the creak of the ride. The cool evening breeze played with their hair as the sun began to descend in the sky.

Alex took Casey’s han in hers giving it a tight squeeze, resting their laced fingers between them. The touch sent a familiar spark through Casey, and she leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder, their bodies pressed close together in the small cabin.

"This is nice," Casey murmured, her voice soft and content.

Alex nodded, her thumb gently tracing circles on Casey’s hand. "Yeah. It is."

For a moment, the world outside didn’t exist. Up here, it was just them, no crowds, no fear of being seen, just the two of them and the quiet, shared closeness that came so naturally now.

As the ferris wheel made its slow descent, Casey sighed, pulling away just slightly. "I wish we could stay up there forever."

"Me too,"Alex whispered, her breath warm against Casey’s ear.

Once they were back on the ground, they wandered through the fair’s more secluded areas, where the crowd began to thin out. They eventually found a small, tucked-away spot behind a food stand, hidden from view but still below the glow of the fair’s lights.

Alex glanced around, then turned to Casey, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know it’s hard," she said, stepping closer. "But I won't let anything happen to you."

Casey’s chest tightened, but in a good way. She felt safe, cherished. "I’m okay," she whispered back, "as long as I’m with you, I’m okay."

For a moment, everything else faded. The world around them disappeared. Without thinking, Alex leaned in, her lips brushing against Casey’s in a soft kiss. It was gentle and sweet, but filled with the intensity that all their kisses carried.

They pulled away, the sound of the fair slowly returning to their ears. Casey’s heart pounded in her chest, her cheeks flushed like they always did, but the smile on her face matched Alex’s.

"You know," Alex whispered, "I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of sneaking kisses with you." She gave her another peck, their foreheads resting together.

Casey grinned, her hands still intertwined with Alex’s. "Me neither."

They stayed there for a while longer, stealing a few more kisses before returning to the lights and noise of the fair, their love burning just as brightly as the lights overhead.

After a few more games and more food they headed back to Alexs house, where they could spend some more time together before Caseys mom started to wonder where she was. They took advantage of the empty streets to walk close together, their hands brushing with every step. Casey smiled and quickly gave Alex a peck on her cheek. “Thank you, it was a wonderful date”

Alex smiled brightly and nudged her lightly “Im glad you enjoyed it, I had a great time with you.”

Things like that made Casey fall even harder for Alex, she never had anyone who cared for her that much, who seemed to know everything about her. She smiled, her hear bursting “You know me so well” she whispered her fingers brushing Alex’s skin. “I love that about you. I love… you”

Alex’s breath hitched and she stopped in her track at Casey’s confession, her eyes widening for a brief second before softening “I love you too, Casey” she whispered back, her voice brimming with emotion. She reached her arms around her, hugging Casey close. The hug surprising both of them. As much as Alex wanted to kiss her right there they where still on the street so she just held her close trying to convey all of her feelings into the hug.

They rushed to Alex’s after they pulled apart, tears in their eyes, well aware that they would only have an hour before Casey had to go. As soon as they were through the door Alex wrapped her arm around Caseys waist, her lips pressing against Casey’s in a deep kiss.

They kissed slowly, savoring the moment. When they finally pulled away, Alex rested her forehead against Casey’s, trying to catch her breath.

“I’m so happy,” Casey murmured, her fingers still laced with Alex’s. “I never thought I’d have this—someone who understands me, who makes me feel safe. I don’t ever want to lose this.”

“You won’t,” Alex promised, her hand moving to gently stroke Casey’s hair. “I’ll protect this, I’ll protect us, no matter what.”

They cuddled on the couch after, spending the rest of the night making out until reality creepy back in and it was time for Casey to go. She glanced at the clock, biting her lip. “I should probably get going soon. My mom’s going to start wondering where I am.”

Alex frowned but nodded “I know. But I hate when you have to leave.”

“Me too,” Casey said softly. “But we’ll see each other tomorrow, right? My mom has a dinner party so I can come over.”

Alex smiled, stepping closer to her. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

They shared one last lingering kiss by the door, Casey’s fingers brushing against Alex’s wrist as she pulled away. She loved Alex, and Alex loved her. She kept repeating that as she walked home wishing tomorrow would come faster.

By the next day Casey had snuck back to Alex’s as soon as she could, the warm afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of Alex’s spacious bedroom, casting golden light over the soft white bedspread. Casey lay on her back, her hand playing with Alex’s fingers as they lay close, their legs tangled together.

“I can’t believe your parents are never around,” Casey whispered, her voice soft, filled with awe at the contrast between Alex’s home and her own where her mothers presence was suffocating. “It’s like…our own little world.”

Alex smiled, her thumb brushing lightly across the back of Casey’s hand. “It’s one of the perks, I guess. We can just be…us here. No one watching.”

Casey looked over, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. “I like being us,” she murmured. The date at the fair had been fun but here, in the quiet of Alex’s home, it was easy to forget the dangers of being found out. It was just them.

Alex shifted a little closer holding herself over Casey, the space between them closing as she tucked a strand of Casey’s hair behind her ear. Her gaze was soft, filled with affection. “I like it too,” Alex said. “And I want to make sure you’re comfortable, always.”

“I am,” Casey said, her voice barely audible. Their faces now only inches apart.

Alex’s heart skipped a beat at the admission. She knew what was at stake for Casey, and that would always drive her to be careful. “I love being with you, I love you so much.”

Casey’s expression softened even more, the weight of Alex’s words sinking in. It was that gentle love, the understanding, that patience, that made her fall deeper in love with Alex every day. She lifted her head up a bit until her lips met Alex’s, they kissed for a moment until Alex lowered herself back to lie next to Casey.

As the evening light began to fade, they found themselves lying even closer, Alex’s arm draped lazily around Casey’s waist as they snuggled into the bed, talking about nothing and everything. Casey’s head rested on Alex’s shoulder, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the girl she loved. “I wish the world didn’t hate us,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper now.

“I know,” Alex whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to Casey’s forehead. “But I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

For a while, they just stayed like that, quiet comforted by the others presence until Casey got the courage to ask one of the questions about Alex that had been buggin her mind for weeks

"Alex," Casey whispered after a while, breaking the quiet. "Why did you leave New York? You never really told me."

Alex tensed for a moment before exhaling softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Casey’s stomach. "I got caught," she said, her voice quieter now. "With a girl."

Casey blinked, processing the words, her heart breaking for Alex. "Caught? What do you mean?"

Alex shifted to face her more directly. "My parents found out. They walked in on us, and it wasn’t pretty. Instead of dealing with it—the whispers, the judgment—they sent me away. I think they thought a Catholic school, would be a good fix. To get me away from... that part of me." She sighed, looking sadder than Casey had ever seen her.

Casey’s chest tightened as she listened. Suddenly, Alex’s distance when talking about her parents made sense. She reached up and cupped Alex’s cheek, turning her head to meet her gaze. "I’m so sorry, Alex," she whispered.

Alex leaned into the touch, her eyes closing for a brief moment. "It’s fine," she murmured. "I have you now. That’s what matters."

They kissed again, this time with more tenderness, a sweet kiss that left them dreamy and sleepy. Soon enough, the day caught up to them. Without realizing it, the room turned into a warm cocoon of drowsiness. Alex’s hand found its way to Casey’s waist, and Casey nestled into her neck, both of them lulled by the calm around them. Their eyes fluttered shut, and before either could stop it, sleep claimed them, their limbs tangled beneath the blanket.

The next morning, the harsh light of the early sun cut through the curtains, interrupting the peacefulness of the previous night. Casey’s eyes blinked open slowly, her mind still foggy with sleep. For a second, she smiled, seeing Alex fast asleep next to her, hair messy from sleep, the warmth of Alex’s body beside her, the quiet safety of being wrapped up in her girlfriend’s arms.

Then it hit her.

Her eyes shot open, and she bolted upright. “Oh my god!” she gasped, her voice frantic as the reality of the situation crashed down on her. “I didn’t go home—I didn’t—my mom’s going to kill me!”

Alex stirred beside her, groaning softly as she blinked up at Casey in confusion. “Case…what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t go home!” Casey repeated, panic rising in her voice as she threw the blanket off. She was up on her feet, grabbing her shoes and jacket, her heart pounding. “She’s going to lose it, Alex. I have to go. I have to go now.”

Alex sat up quickly, her expression shifting from grogginess to concern. “Hey, hey, calm down,” she said, trying to reach for Casey’s arm, but Casey was already pulling away, frantically searching for her bag. “It’s okay. We can figure it out.”

“No, we can’t! She’ll know something’s wrong! How am I supposed to explain this?!” Casey’s voice cracked with anxiety as she tugged her jacket on, hands shaking. Her mind was spinning with panic.

Alex stood and grabbed Casey’s hand, trying to ground her. “I’ll help you, I’ll think of something. Just breathe, okay?”

But Casey was already halfway out the door, panic driving her forward. “I’ll see you later,” she managed to say over her shoulder, rushing down the stairs.

The air outside burned her throat with each panicked breath, and Casey could feel the tension in her chest as she sprinted down the street toward her house. Her heart was racing as she approached her front door, praying she could sneak in without anyone noticing. But as she turned the knob and pushed the door open as quiet as she could be, her stomach dropped.

Standing there, just inside the doorway, was her father. High and mighty in his uniform, the image of intimidation staring her down to nothing.

The look on his face made Casey freeze in place, her breath catching in her throat.

“Where were you?”

#alex cabot #casey novak #casey novak x alex cabot #calex #law and order svu #sorry for the cliffhanger

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