#so i suppose it makes a convenient block list. sigh

[cosmogyros]

It is fucking amazing how often I have to unfollow people for bodyshaming others related to their choice to shave or not. And the fascinating thing is that this judginess is ALWAYS aimed at women. Men who don't shave? Fine. Men who do shave? Also fine. It's their body, they can do what they like with it, right?

But as soon as we're talking about women, suddenly it's totally okay to prescribe what they ought to do about their OWN bodies. I never used to see this many "women shouldn't shave" posts here, and the recent uptick is concerning to me.

I understand that it's rooted in a pushback against patriarchal norms that pressure all women to remove their body hair. And I fully support that. But you've gotta understand that if you react to these norms by saying "women should all shave? actually no, women should NOT shave!" ...YOU'RE STILL BEING SEXIST. You're still saying that women "should" do something different with their bodies because YOU think they ought to.

It's absolutely wild to me how often internalized misogyny can be revealed by simply asking oneself "If the genders were switched, would I be saying this (in any context except as a joke)?" And if the answer is no, then... maybe don't say it.

Freedom is always more revolutionary. Letting people make their own choices is always more revolutionary. If you react to someone's attempt to enforce a certain standard by attempting to enforce the opposite standard instead, you are not on the side of freedom.

[crazyunsexycool]

Heart's Munition

Chapter 8

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid!reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: crying, fluff-ish

A/N: I realized that I've had this written for weeks and hadn't shared it. We see some of the aftermath from the previous chapter...

Series Masterlist

Sharon’s heels hit the tarmac at a steady rhythm. As she walked toward her waiting private jet she took her phone out of her purse and called to give a much awaited update. The phone rings three times before someone answers. 

“Hey, darling cousin.” Sharon smiles the closer she gets to the steps of the plane. “Everything seemed to have gone well. From the information we got it seems like dear old Steve has a thing for his maids so I made sure to send a few guys to the place of his newest hire. She was a cute little thing, couldn’t even put up a fight. Your contact also made sure to scare her into spying on Steve for us.” 

“What about the other one?” 

“The other one?” 

“Yes, there are two maids.” There’s some shuffling of papers on the other end while Sharon stops and waits for an answer. “The other one’s name is Y/N. Apparently Steve has been more than attentive with her.” 

Sharon rolls her eyes and sighs. “Peggy when you gave me this job you only mentioned Regina. I don’t have any intel on this Y/N person.” 

There’s absolute silence on the other end of the line. It annoys Sharon to no end to have to run these little errands for her cousin. As if she wasn’t an important member of the Carter family.

“We’ll figure something out for her later then. What else do you have?” 

“The only one I haven’t heard from is Rollins. He was supposed to go into Rogers’ home, find anything he could on where they were keeping Beck and whatever else he could on your ex.” 

“Sharon, you’re the only one who cares about Beck. He got careless, whatever happened he brought it on himself.” Peggy responded rather bored. “The only thing I wanted was information on Steve’s businesses.”

“Hmm. Well I’ll see you in a few hours and we can discuss next steps. Bye cousin.” Sharon responds and hangs up not waiting for a reply. 

She’s greeted at the bottom of the stairs by the pilot and he ushers her up the steps. Just at the entrance the one flight attendant is waiting to take her bag. She smiles at Sharon although it seems strained, Sharon doesn’t seem to care. Handing over her bag Sharon walks in to take a seat only to be surprised to find that she isn’t alone. 

“Who the hell are you?” She asked angrily at the person hiding behind a newspaper. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know you were behind the break in at my place?”

“Steve-“ Sharon whispered out his name. She looked back at the exit only to find that it had been blocked by Bucky. 

“A little convenient that you showed up at my club just as someone was breaking in, wouldn’t you say?” 

“I only came by to offer you a business deal, a good one at that.” Sharon shifts side to side nervously. “One that you turned down. I don’t know why you’re here now though, I still have a few hours before the twelve hours are up.”

“I’ve changed my mind on the twelve hours. Why don’t you stay in New York for a while.” 

“I would but I have business to take care of elsewhere.” 

Steve stands up and closes in on Sharon. She has to tip her head back slightly to look at him. He smirks as he sees the fear in her eyes. 

“You aren’t going anywhere any time soon Sharon. Let’s go.” 

“Steve, you don’t hurt women.” Sharon says. “It’s your one rule. You won’t hurt me.” 

“You’re right, I won’t. But she will.” Steve juts his chin up so that Sharon has to look behind her. When she does she sees Nat standing besides Bucky and her blood runs cold. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know.” Steve whispers in her ear before pushing her toward Nat. 

You had offered to go to Regina’s apartment to collect her things. Clint was with you since Steve needed Nat. You personally packed her clothes and were looking around to make sure you didn’t miss anything from the list Regina had given you. One thing she had asked for was a picture in a frame on her night stand but it was missing. The other thing you grabbed was a photo album from her closet. 

“You got everything?” Clint asked from the door.

“Yeah,” you said but you kept looking around. “It’s odd.” 

“What is?” 

“Regina mentioned she had a daughter but there is nothing in this apartment that would suggest a kid lived here.” 

“You think she’s lying?” Clint perks up. 

“I don’t know, maybe?” You look back at Clint with concern. 

“I can look into it if you want.” 

“I’ll let you know, maybe I’ll just ask her instead.”

“She could lie. Why don’t you let me do a little digging and I’ll tell you what I find. Then you can ask her, see if everything matches up with what she tells you.” Clint offers and while you head out of the apartment you think it over.

“Yeah, that makes sense. When can you let me know?” 

“I’ll tell you everything I find tomorrow morning.” Clint takes the bag from your hand and leads you out of the old building. 

“Ok that works.”

“Look at you becoming a little boss of the family.” He chuckles at your eye roll. 

“After last night I just want to make sure no one will try to hurt us again.” You defend yourself. “Regina is still new, what if the video and all that are a set up?”

“I thought you liked her?” Clint opens the car door for you. 

“I do but I won’t put my son’s well being above anyone else.” 

“That’s the right call. Boss.”  Clint chuckles.

You checked in on Elijah first. The events of the previous night had worn him down and he was taking a nap. Next you went down to the server’s quarters where Regina decided to take a room instead of a regular room on the second floor. She was wrapped up in a blanket. Tears streaked on her cheeks, her eyes red and puffy from all of the crying. The injuries had been bad and you knew she was in pain. You were sure that she wasn’t involved in the attack, instead she was just a victim.

“Hey.” You called softly. “May I come in?” 

She looked up at you, eyes slightly glazed over but she nodded. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Regina just shrugs. “Fine I guess.” 

“I got everything on your list. Well almost everything. I couldn’t find the picture you asked me for.”

“The one on my nightstand?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” You say as you sit at the edge of the bed.

“This is bad.” Regina stands and starts pacing. “If it’s not there then it means those guys know what my daughter looks like. What if they try to hurt her?” She asks, panicked. 

“Hey, I’ll talk to Steve ok? In the meantime can we talk to whoever she’s staying with?” 

Regina sits next to you looking completely defeated. You place an arm around her shoulder and give her a side hug. 

“Her dad is a cop. He has a lot of connections so I only get supervised visitations with her. If he finds out this happened to me he’ll make sure I never see her again.” 

“You’re not alone anymore. We’ll figure it out.” 

Regina gave a small nod but it broke your heart to see her so defeated. You’d been where she was when Eli started getting sick. All alone with no one to depend on. You wouldn’t let Regina feel the same way. 

She leans her head against your shoulder and you let her cry until she’s tired herself out.

By the end of the day you were exhausted. Both physically and emotionally and you didn’t think you could push yourself any further. You shuffled your way down the hallways until you reached Steve’s office. On the other side of the door you could hear him barking orders at everyone. You’d never heard him so angry before and you reconsidered interrupting but the door flew open before you could leave. 

Sam and Bucky both stood there with matching angry expressions that seemed to melt when they saw you. They stepped to the side to let the others through first.

“Hopefully you can calm him down a bit.” Bucky says while nodding towards the office. 

“He’s extremely pissed off, if he says something out of line you tell us and we’ll handle him.” 

“Thanks Sam but I think I can handle him all on my own.” 

“Yeah you can.” Bucky smirks and sends a wink your way. 

You roll your eyes and walk past them. Steve is pacing back and forth while shouting at whoever is on the other side of a phone call before hanging up. He turns when he hears the door closing. You lean your back against it and watch him. Steve’s eyes soften when he sees you. Without saying much he walks over to you, places his hands on either side of you and tilts his head to the side.

“What’s going on? Are you ok?” He asks softly. It had barely been twenty four hours since everything had happened. 

You look up at him through your lashes and shrug. Steve gave you a small smile before pulling you in for a hug. You felt the tension in your shoulders felt away. After a minute of Steve holding you he pulls you toward the couch and when he sits he takes you with him. This time you don’t wait for Steve to prompt you, you tuck yourself into his side and rest your head on his chest. 

“It’s been an emotionally draining day.” You say after a minute. 

“What can I do to help you?” 

“This is nice.” You tilt your head back to find Steve already looking at you. 

His fingers are tracing patterns over your arm as he takes you in. 

“What else? You can ask me for anything and I’ll give it to you.” 

“I don’t know. Eli’s fed, bathed and clothed. I don't think there’s much else.” 

“That’s Elijah. As long as I breathe I’ll always make sure he has everything he needs and more. I’m talking about you. What do you want?”

You huff and hide your face in his chest. This felt like too much. You didn’t know what you wanted because for so long you only had what you needed, barely. Now here stood a man that wanted to give you everything you could ever dream of and you were completely blanking. 

“How about we start with something small?” Steve asks. “If you could do one thing right now, what would it be?”

“I’d like to actually have a bubble bath. I didn’t get to enjoy one last night.”

“We can do that.” 

“We?” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously and Steve laughed. 

“You can do that.” 

You pulled away and laughed. Steve only grabbed your hand and pulled you into his side again. This time his hand rested at your waist just to make sure he could keep you there for a little bit longer. He needed to see you, to touch you and hear your voice. He was losing himself in a fit of rage the longer he thought about what you’d gone through. 

“What else?”

You shrugged again.

“Ok, we can start small. Give me ten minutes and meet me in your room.” 

“Steve, I can make my own bath.” 

Steve hums in acknowledgment but gets up anyway, kissing your forehead in the process. 

“Ten minutes. Stay here.”

****

When the ten minutes were up you made your way up to your room. Steve had just walked out of your en-suite and nodded his head in its direction. You walked over and were surprised to find candles lighting the area. The scent of lavender filling the air and a glass of wine sitting on the counter. He’d also placed a few of your lotions and skin care items on the counter for you.

“You did all this for me?” Your voice is small as you asked. 

“Of course. Although this is just a little something, you deserve so much more. You do so much for everyone here. I thought I showed you how much we appreciate you.” 

You turn and smile at him. Steve sends a small wink your way and backs out of the bathroom doorway. 

“I’m going to hang out with Eli, join us when you’re done but take however long you’d like.” 

“Thanks Steve.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” 

You weren’t sure how long you spent in the bathroom but it was a needed break. After the water started getting cold you got out and did your skincare routine, then found a comfy pair of pajamas and you started to feel better. Once you were done you went to find Steve and Eli but they weren’t in Eli’s room. After searching their second favorite spot to hang out in, the balcony on the third floor you headed down. 

“Hey Peter.” You said as he stepped out of the hallway his room was in. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” 

“I should be asking you that.” 

“I’m ok, really.” He says after seeing the doubt on your face. “If you’re looking for Eli he’s in the theater room kicking Steve’s ass at Mario Kart.” 

You smiled before giving Peter a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, we’re friends.” 

“I do. Call me if you need anything ok.” 

“Yeah, see you later.” 

You nod before heading down to the first floor. Even from the bottom of the stairs you could hear Elijah hollering from the room at the end of the hallway. 

“I win, again.” Eli celebrates by jumping on the couch.

“You’re cheating.” 

“I’m not. You just suck cuz you’re an old man.” Eli shoots back.

“I’m not old.” Steve defends himself.

“It’s ok mom sucks at this game too.” 

“Hey.” You said from the door and Eli yelped before falling on the couch and trying to hide from you. His fit of giggles didn’t help him stay hidden though.

“Wanna say that to my face you punk.” 

Eli laughed harder once you grabbed his foot and pulled him towards you. You tickled his sides until he begged for you to stop. 

“Ma,” he said between laughs. “It’s true.” He takes a deep breath. “You suck at Mario Kart.” 

“Well I want to play so set me up.” 

You look up to see Steve smiling in your direction. 

“I’m gonna kick your butt too, Rogers.” 

He raised his eyebrow and he smirked. “Are you now? I think I can beat you.” 

“Yeah right.” 

“Fine, let’s bet on it.”  Steve challenges.

“Ok, what do you get if you win?”

“If I win, you go out on a date with me.” 

Elijah looks back and forth between the two of you, a bit excited at the possibility. 

“And if I win-“ you think for a moment and smile. “You have to wear a maid's uniform for a whole day.”

“A maid uniform? Really?” 

You give him a mischievous smile. “I’m talking French style.” 

Steve immediately shook his head in disagreement. “No way.”

“Why? Scared you’re gonna lose?” 

Steve narrowed his eyes at you before grabbing the controller again. He extended his free hand in your direction. “Shake on it.”

“What do I get if I win?” Elijah piped up. 

You and Steve chuckled. 

“How about you get to pick three new video games.” Steve offers and it’s your turn to raise eyebrows.

“That’s too much.” 

“Nonsense. It’s a fair trade but I’m sorry to say kid, I’m winning this round.” 

“Sure.” Elijah says sarcastically. 

The three of you start playing, yelling over each other. At one point you try to knock Steve’s controller out of his hand only for him to try the same thing on you. You were laughing even though your character was dead last and kept getting hit with shells or banana peels. By the end of the race Elijah and Steve were sitting waiting for your character to finally cross the finish line. 

“Will you look at that?” The smug look on Steve’s face annoyed you but you still wanted to smile. 

“Yeah, yeah. Congratulations Rogers, you win.” 

“It seems like it. Don’t worry, I'll make sure you enjoy our date.” 

You roll your eyes at him.

“Can we watch a movie now?” Elijah asked with a sweet smile on his face.

“Of course we can bub.” Steve says.

“Can we have snacks ma?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get some things together. I’ll be right back.” 

Eli smiled and watched as you walked out of the theater room. The moment the door was closed he turned to look at Steve. The smile he had dropped and he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“What’s going on little man?”

“Where do you plan on taking my mom on a date? Is it somewhere nice? Because she deserves something nice. And you have to treat her like a princess because mom never does anything nice for herself.”

Steve smiles. Elijah reminds him so much of himself at that age. Steve was and still is just as protective of his mom as Elijah is protective of you. 

“Yeah, I was thinking of doing something really nice for her.”

“Like a surprise?” 

“Just like a surprise. Maybe you can help me.” Steve nods. 

“Ok, I’ll help you. But remember you have to treat her nice, ok? Or else we,” Eli motions between himself and Steve. “Are going to have a problem.” 

Steve stifles a chuckle because Elijah had a no nonsense look on his face. This was a man to man conversation and Steve could respect that.

“I’m not kidding. Sam and Bucky said they had my back.” 

“I promise I’ll do everything I can to treat her nice and make sure she’s happy and you too.”

“Ok good.” Elijah says just as you walk back in with a tray of snacks and drinks for the three of you.

“So what are we watching?” 

“Luca.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” You murmur as you settle down.

Eli cuddles into your side to watch his favorite movie. You smile while looking down at your baby and then your eyes move up to find Steve looking at you. He had a soft smile on his lips and he winked at you before turning back to the screen. 

He could get used to this and he’s making it his mission to make you and Eli a permanent part of his life.

Ch. 9

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[heroloverangel]

Good Morning

Ingenium remains #1 on the list of characters who deserve more screentime.

You’ve never been a morning person, but this is ridiculous. For weeks now, you’ve woken up every day feeling nauseous beyond belief. Every meal has become a 50/50 chance of your stomach rebelling and sending you running for the nearest bathroom and you’re rapidly getting tired of it. You knew pregnancy wasn’t going to be easy, but you assumed you’d get to enjoy at least a little bit of those wacky cravings instead of gagging at the sight of most normal foods.

You stagger out of bed this morning, just like every other morning this week, into the kitchen and drop heavily into a chair at the table. Tensei’s been awake for awhile; coffee is just the latest item on the list of smells that make you queasy, and he’s been great about drinking it as far away from you as possible. “Hey,” he smiles over at you from his place at the stove and you groan back weakly. “You having another rough morning?”

You give a dismissive shrug. “I still feel like garbage, but it’s better than yesterday.”

He nods and reaches for a pan. “At least that’s something. Think you can handle some breakfast?” You weren’t hungry a minute ago, but your stomach rumbles at the suggestion and he laughs. “I take it you want your usual?”

Your usual at this point is just plain eggs with no seasoning. There aren’t many foods you’re able to reliably keep down when you wake up, but a boring plate of eggs is certainly the most convenient. You’re not unreasonable enough to demand freshly grilled salmon every morning, and you’d just feel bad sending him out for those chocolate-stuffed croissants from the cafe a few blocks away that always has a line out the door in the mornings. You’re more than happy enough with your bland scramble made with love by your adoring husband.

Or at least you would be, if your stomach didn’t choose today to betray you yet again. One moment you’re sitting peacefully at the table watching Tensei stir a spatula around the pan, and the next moment you catch the scent of the frying eggs and have to actively fight your gag reflex. Without a word you lurch out of your chair and rush for the bathroom, illness rising higher in your throat with every second. “This sucks,” you wail to him across the house between heaves; you know he’s busy with the fire hazard on the stove and only vaguely hear him yell back a sympathetic response.

After twenty minutes you pry yourself away from the anchor that is your toilet, gargle half a bottle of mouthwash, and then collapse back into your bed. Tensei reappears soon enough with a tray for you, only toast and ginger ale, and you sulk as you pick at your new breakfast while he rubs your back soothingly. “I wish I could do something to help.”

You relax into his touch and sigh. “I wish there was anything you could do. The doctor said it should pass in a couple more weeks and we’ve just got to wait it out.”

He runs a hand through your disheveled hair. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job handling this. I know it can’t be easy.”

You smile faintly and cuddle closer against him. “Oh no, it’s awful. But I’ve got the best hero in the world giving me plenty of support.”

“Best hero, huh?” His grin matches your own, and you can feel his stubble when he leans over to kiss your cheek. “If you’re already that impressed, I guess I didn’t need to call the cafe and order some of those croissants.”

You force yourself to swallow the bite of toast you just put in your mouth. “Hey now, I didn’t say that.”

You’ve always loved his laugh. “Think you can wait about thirty minutes for them?”

“That’s a big ask,” you tease and take a small sip of your ginger ale. You know it’s supposed to help with nausea, but you drink so much of it you’re starting to hate the taste. “I’m guessing your brother wouldn’t be willing to speedrun them over, huh?”

Tensei’s eyes crinkle with happiness at your joke, “You know that sense of humor is just one of the many reasons I married you.”

“Oh really? You know we’ve got thirty minutes, we’ve got time for you to tell me all the other reasons.”

You’ll be the first to admit that this morning didn’t exactly get off to a great start. Now though, as you curl up in your husband’s arms with his pipes positioned safely out of your way, your mood’s improved significantly. There’s a cool breeze coming in from the window with the morning sunshine, and you get the feeling you’ll doze off before the food arrives. You don’t mind that idea, you know your precious croissants will be waiting for you when you wake up.

You let out a yawn and blink up at him. “Love you, Ten.”

“I love you too. Go ahead and get some rest, you two need it.” His voice is soft, and the last thought you have before you fall back asleep is that no one else in the world could ever make you this happy.

[hqbbg]

still.

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

prompt: “I told you to stay still.”

genre: smut

word count: 5.3K (I got carried away, oops)

warnings: 18+, masturbation, some degradation, oral (f!receiving), fingering, some spanking, vaginal & unprotected s3x (make sure you wrap your presents, kids), like 2 seconds of cockwarming, uhm I think that’s it oop

author’s note: I'm back with another Haikyuu!! Headquarters collab piece! check out the master list of everyone else’s works here ✨ I hope y’all enjoy this!

The air in your room feels thick as you pant helplessly, feeling the familiar ache in your fingers as they begin to cramp up while plunging in and out of your sopping cunt. You feel so close to your own undoing, unable to control your thoughts as they drift to the man whose room is on the other side of your bedroom wall. You can’t help but think that it’s his fingers squelching within your warmth, though you’re sure they would reach much further than yours ever could.

You don’t do this often, touching yourself to the thought of your roommate while he’s out at work or running errands, but lately you’ve been frustrated.

When you had put out an ad for a roommate, you were hesitant. You didn’t have much of a choice, as your last roommate decided to move out in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, leaving you to scramble for a solution in order to continue to afford rent. As a full-time student with a part time job, it would’ve been inconvenient to move out in the middle of the semester, and it seemed reasonable to quickly search for a roommate to help with the bills until your lease was up.

Miya Osamu was hot, to say the least, though it wasn’t the main reason why you ended up choosing him to be your new roommate. On top of having manners and being financially stable, he knew how to cook and respected your space in the apartment. Unfortunately, you’ve been unable to say the same recently. The number of times his room door was cracked open as he changed almost made you consider that he was doing it on purpose, as if encouraging you to take a peek.

As you recall the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head all those times you’d told yourself that you were just walking by, you let another moan slip past your lips. Your fingers begin to move quicker, toes curling, and you can feel your arm beginning to tire out. Your back arches as your other hand quickly moves to massage your neglected clit, rubbing harsh circles until your vision flashes white.

You fail to hear the front door open and close as your moans continue to fill the room. The memory of seeing Osamu stepping out of the bathroom in a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a towel around his neck is still fresh on your mind. You feel yourself clench around your own fingers as you recall your eyes briefly catching sight of the outline of his cock, the image practically ingrained within you. Too many times have you thought about how it would feel inside of you.

Another moan resonates on the walls and you bite your lip, though it does little to stop you from moaning Osamu’s name. Before you know it, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure and your whole body tenses before it relaxes. Your chest heaves as you lay there, trying to recover from your intense orgasm and you want nothing more than to sleep now. You hardly notice that your door is open.

Over the next few days, you can’t help but feel that something is off with Osamu. Though you aren’t particularly close, you’d like to think that you two have developed some sort of friendship with all the shared meals and evenings spent in the living room just chatting about life.

Did he hear you the other night? There was no way; you made sure to give yourself enough time before he was supposed to come home. Then again, you didn’t hear him come in…

Your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that he’d heard you. You let out a groan as you bury your face in your hands, leaning onto your desk. The little motivation you had to study has effectively disappeared and an unsettling mix of nervousness and shame begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push the dreadful thought out of your head and sit upright. An idea suddenly pops into your head and you abruptly stand up. You walk over to your door and poke your head out, scanning the area to locate your roommate. He’s conveniently in the kitchen, snacking on some leftovers he’d brought back from his restaurant the previous night.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly as you step out. He looks over at you and hums in acknowledgement, his mouth full. You decide to go ahead and speak, though your fingers fidget with the hem of your oversized shirt. “You’re not working tomorrow night, right?”

Osamu shakes his head, swallowing his food. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you hesitate, trying to find a way to come off as casually as you can, “I saw this recipe online for some salmon and vegetables, do you wanna be my guinea pig?”

“Sure,” he nods as he shrugs. “What time?”

“Dinner time,” you say, a little too eagerly. “How about seven?”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Sounds good to me.”

You watch as he takes another bite of his food before you realize you’re staring, clearing your throat.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” you say and quickly scurry back towards your room. Once you shut the door, you release a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. You swiftly move back to your desk, your forgotten notes pushed even further aside as you begin to look for that recipe you’d seen all those weeks ago.

The following day, you make a quick trip to the store to buy ingredients and find yourself nervously counting down the hours and minutes until it’s a reasonable time to start making dinner. You step out of your room to see Osamu already perched on a stool at the small island in the kitchen. He’s slouched over, scrolling through his phone when you walk up. He glances up and greets you with a small smile as you place your phone down near the center of the island countertop.

“Okay, so before I start, I just need to say that I’m definitely not a professional chef in any way,” you say as you move to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, pulling the vegetables from the fridge. You grab the apron hanging on the pantry door and sling it over your head, tying it behind your back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya wear that,” Osamu muses as he leans his cheek on his palm. His elbows are both propped up on the counter and you resist the urge to playfully roll your eyes.

“I have to make sure my shirt doesn’t get dirty,” you say, “it’s one of my favorites.”

He says nothing in response, opting for a light chuckle as you begin to wash the vegetables. Once you finish, you pull out the cutting board in front of him on the other side of the island, placing a carrot in the middle.

You open a cabinet and pull out a knife, giving it a quick rinse before positioning the blade to cut through the vegetable. Placing your fingers on the edge, you lift the knife just slightly.

“Hey, be sure to cats paw,” Osamu pipes up, pointing to the hand that’s on the carrot, “If yer not careful, you’ll knick yourself.”

“Huh?” You blink your eyes at him, trying to prevent yourself from sounding like an idiot.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his hand up and curling his fingers inward into a loose fist. You try not to focus on the veins lining his hands, tearing your eyes away and mimicking his motions. You see him drop his hand from your peripherals and finally attempt to cut into the carrot.

Before you know it, the knife slips from your grasp, making a shallow but clean cut across your index knuckle. You let out a curse and hiss as you drop the knife.

“Whoa, are ya okay?” Osamu stands as you begin to make your way to the sink, blocking your path.

“It hurts, but I’m fine,” you reply, looking at him curiously before glancing at your finger. You examine it for a moment, seeing the familiar crimson begin to bead.

“Let me take a look,” says Osamu, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. He lifts your hand up closer to his face, his eyebrows slightly creasing as you do your best to resist the blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You should be careful.”

“Well, it’s not like this was intentional,” you grumble, unable to meet his eyes. He sighs softly and you glance at him, opening your mouth to say something. However, your train of thought is  completely derailed when his lips wrap around the small incision.

You feel his warm tongue gently lick around it and you can’t help but stare at the way his lips look around your finger. He catches your eyes and pulls away.

“I used to do this to my brother whenever he’d get hurt or something when we were little,” he says, letting go of your wrist. Your face is burning as you drop your hand back down to your side. “Wait here, I’ll go grab a bandage.”

You nod wordlessly, mind still reeling as you try to figure out and process what exactly had just happened. You watch his retreating figure head towards the bathroom, disappearing for only a moment before resurfacing with a familiar pink wrapper with Hello Kitty’s face scattered across the outside cover, a gift he had received from his brother. He makes his way back over to you, pulling the tabs apart and plucking out the bandaid.

Without prompting, you lift your hand up towards him and watch as he moves your hand towards him with his pinky, wrapping it around your finger.

“There, all patched up. Is that too tight?” He asks, picking up the trash and crumpling it in his fist. You lift your hand up and examine his handiwork, nodding in approval.

“It’s perfect,” you say, feeling your stomach flutter at the self-satisfied smirk that’s found its way onto his face. “I still have to cut the vegetables, though.”

“Hand it over; I’ll do it.” He motions towards the knife.

You pout, making no indication to hand the utensil over to him. “I kind of wanted to cut the vegetables though.”

He raises a brow at you. “Are ya sure? Ya already butchered yer first chance; I don’t want blood all over my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen, huh?”

Osamu shrugs. “I hardly see ya in here, so it might as well be.”

“So are you gonna help me or not?” You raise a brow and choose to ignore his statement as you cross the kitchen to grab your phone, pulling up the recipe to skim through the instructions before placing it back down. “I’m supposed to Juliette these vegetables.”

Osamu stays quiet for a moment. “Do ya mean julienne?”

“Yeah, same thing,” you wave your hand dismissively, walking back over to the cutting board. You pick up the discarded knife, giving it a quick rinse. Upon returning to your original spot at the island, your hands position themselves once again, curling your fingers like Osamu had previously shown you.

“Wait, yer gonna end up hurting yourself again,” he says as he walks up behind you. “How thin are ya trying to cut this?”

“About this much,” you reply, positioning the knife towards the edge of the carrot.

“Okay, first things first,” he says as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes widen as you feel his chest press against your back, his hands moving to hold yours. “Ya have to cut it in half and get a flat surface.”

He grabs your hand holding the knife and moves it to the middle of the carrot, wrapping his thick and long fingers around the handle, completely swallowing yours. He ensures that his grip is stable before pressing down, the blade making a sharp cut.

“Okay, so now that ya have this, ya said ya want to make them look like noodles, right?”

You can only nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you choose to speak. Your head feels fuzzy, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his musky cologne hitting your nose and the way his strong arms continue to guide you. The heat radiating off his chest envelops you in an oddly comforting embrace and something about it feels very domestic. You try hard to keep your knees from buckling under you, shifting your weight between your feet. You immediately tense when you accidentally press your backside against his hips.

Briefly scanning the island countertop, you see that his phone is on the other side where he’d originally left it when you began cooking and try to ignore the sinful thoughts threatening to infiltrate your mind.

“Makes sense?” Osamu says, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I-I think so,” you stammer, though you bite your lip and mentally scold yourself for your faltering voice.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back. You exhale slowly, trying not to think of the loss of warmth. “While ya keep doing that, I’ll prepare the salmon. Where’s the recipe?”

“It’s on my phone.” You nod towards it, setting the knife down. He walks over to the side of the counter you’d left your phone at and brings it over to you. “What’s yer passcode?”

“That’s classified information, sir.” You see his eyes darken for a moment as you pluck your phone from his hand, typing in the digits before placing it in his open palm.

“Never thought you’d be callin’ me that so soon,” he says offhandedly, locating the recipe in your browser. You feel your lips part to say something, but no words come out.

You simply resume cutting the carrot and grab more vegetables, shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts. You see Osamu grab the salmon from the fridge, pulling it out and getting some seasonings you’d bought earlier.

“Hey, can ya grab a pan from that cabinet there?” Osamu asks as he points to one of the bottom cabinets in front of your legs.

“Sure,” you nod and take a step back, opening the cabinet door and bending over at the hips. You rummage around for a decent-sized pan, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you before you straighten up. He’s quick to avert his eyes as he holds his hand out to you. You place the handle in his open palm and he takes it, setting it on top of the stove.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you prepare your own things, with you seasoning and cooking the vegetables while Osamu prepares the fish, searing it on the pan. As you both finish your portions, you decide to bring out your nicer plates for the occasion.

Opening one of the top cabinets, you stand on your toes to reach for the plates, wondering how they ended up so high to begin with.

“Need help?”

You jump slightly, startled when you feel his body pressed flush against yours with a hand on the dip of your waist as the other reaches above your head to grab two plates, placing them down onto the counter. You turn your head to look at him and realize just how close he is, his face merely centimeters away. His eyes are on your lips as you tongue pokes out to wet them before they flicker upwards to meet your eyes. You look up at him, anticipating his next move with bated breath, and feel his hand that had been holding the plates move to gently hold your jaw. He leans forward just slightly and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet.

His lips move slowly against yours, though it’s nothing short of passionate. You feel his hand on your waist pull you closer to him and you lean into the warmth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to welcome the warm muscle inside, letting him explore freely.

The both of you seem to run out of air at the same time, pulling away breathlessly. Before you can say anything, he kisses down your jaw to your neck as you crane your head just slightly so he can have better access and you’re not straining your muscles. He nips gently at the skin before dragging his tongue along, finding a particularly tender spot to pay special attention to. A hiss slips past your lips and you’re reminded of how close he is to you when you begin to feel something hardening against your backside.

“If ya wanna stop, ya have to tell me now,” he mutters against your neck as both of his hands settle on your waist, thumbs playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I’d rather not,” you admit rather shamelessly. You can feel Osamu’s lips curve upwards against your skin as his hands give you a slight squeeze.

“If ya say so,” he says before one of his hands reaches between the two of you to untie your apron. “If ya ever need me to stop, let me know.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, slightly dizzy from the reality of what’s happening right now. One of his hands begins to slide upwards from your waist, cupping your clothed breast and giving it a squeeze, while the other slips downwards under your apron and pushes past the waistband of your shorts, hovering over your panties. Suddenly very aware of the wetness between your legs, you move to close them a little.

“That won’t do ya any good,” Osamu mutters against the back of your neck. As if to prove his point, he presses his middle finger against your clothed slit and swipes upward, humming to himself. “Yer practically dripping and I haven’t even started yet.”

A moan slips past your lips and you can only bite your lip in embarrassment at your own shamelessness.

“It’s just the two of us; you don’t have to be quiet,” he says, as if encouraging you to be as loud as you want and disturb your neighbors. When you still refuse to make another noise, he nudges your legs open with his knees, almost forcing you to lean over the counter for support. As if to further prove his point, he pushes your panties aside and slips his middle finger in between your folds, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Osamu,” you whimper as you feel him kiss his way towards the back of your ear.

“What is it, baby?” His finger is still and unmoving inside of you as you try to gain any sort of friction, attempting to grind your hips against him. His hand doesn’t move as you feel his tongue trace the outer shell of your ear.

“Stop teasing me,” you practically whimper as you ball your hands into fists on the surface in front of you.

“What do ya want me to do?” He sounds smug and you can almost visualize his teasing smirk behind your closed lids.

“Just fuck me,” you say. You fight the embarrassment heating your cheeks, too aroused to focus on anything else.

“I know we’ve been living together for awhile now, but let’s not forget our manners,” he says, beginning to slide his finger out.

“M’Samu, please fuck me!” It comes out too eagerly, too desperately, but you want him to just do something to you.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he lets out a soft chuckle before he slides his finger back in. You find yourself leaning completely on the countertop so you don’t buckle under him and moan when he slides another finger inside, stretching you.

You were right; his fingers reach so much further than yours ever could.

His calloused fingers continue to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace as his other hand that had been on your breast moves down to slip under your shirt. You bite your lip as you feel him expertly unclip the bra before sliding around to cup the flesh, nudging your loose bra aside. His fingers pinch your hardening nipple and you breathe out his name.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he practically grunts, “if ya keep soundin’ like that, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya.”

Part of you has half the mind to take him up on the offer while the other is failing to form coherent words and thoughts.

A familiar tension begins to pull at your lower abdomen as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. It seems that Osamu’s also aware, quickly slipping his hands out from your dripping cunt.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine as you turn back to look at him. He offers a smirk before removing his hands completely from your pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The way his half-lidded eyes are locked on yours as he swirls his tongue around makes you clench helplessly around nothing.

“Don’t worry, yer gonna thank me later,” he says, dropping his hand. He begins to lower himself so he’s on his knees on the ground before he pulls your shorts and panties down in one clean tug. The cool air hits your wet heat and you bite your lip at the sensation.

You watch him with anticipation as he leans forward, using both hands to massage your ass a couple times before spreading the cheeks apart. He nudges your feet so you can spread a little wider for him, which you wordlessly oblige, and inhale shakily as he leans forward and licks a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck, Osamu,” you hiss as you turn back to look at him. You use one hand to reach around and weave your fingers through his hair, fisting it as he begins to sloppily lap at your cunt.

His tongue dives in and out, the wet squelch echoing around the apartment. You feel your legs tremble as he angles his head to reach a bit further before opting to have his fingers rejoin the fun. Your moans sound nearly pornographic as you attempt to grip at anything, unable to get yourself to properly stand as Osamu wags his head a couple times, swirling his tongue in the process.

A sharp gasp leaves you when you feel his fingers angle themselves and hit a spot you didn’t even know existed, your walls beginning to clench and flutter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pushing his head deeper against you. You feel him hum against you as if to encourage you to release onto his face, so you do.

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you feel every nerve ending spark up and you come undone above him. He lets you grind your hips against him a couple more times before he pulls away, breathing heavily as he stands up. He turns you around by your hips and you see your slick coating his lips and chin.

“Look at this mess,” he taunts you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You don’t say anything and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to taste yourself. As you do so, he makes quick work to get rid of his sweatpants and pulls away to lift his shirt over his head. You go ahead and do the same with your apron, tossing it onto the island behind him and removing your shirt and bra to leave the both of you stark naked in the kitchen.

You take a brief moment to unabashedly check him out, admiring how toned and built he is. Chewing on your bottom lip, you let your fingers trace along the hardened and defined lines of his abdomen, trailing your fingers down to palm him through his boxers. You see the fabric straining and recognize the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel how hard he is, creating a slightly darkened and damp spot where the head of his cock is located. You glance up at him and meet eyes as you hook your thumbs on his waistband, pulling them down. His length practically springs to life, standing proud and tall before you and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

Wrapping your fingers around the base, you bite your lip as you drag your hand upwards to the tip and collect his beading precum, spreading it around generously with the pad of your thumb before using it as lubricant to continue stroking him.

“Fuck,” he moans softly as you lick your lips, getting ready to get on your knees to return the favor that he so generously had given you moments ago. He grabs your wrist to stop you and you look at him curiously. “As much as I’d love to see you suck my cock, I just want to be inside of that pussy of yours right now.”

The hungry look in his eyes is all you need before you kiss him again, this time much sloppier than the previous ones. He maneuvers you around the kitchen for a moment and before you know it, you’re bent over the island countertop with a leg propped up on the cool surface. You hear Osamu spit into his hand and look back to see him give his thick cock a couple generous strokes before positioning himself with one hand while the other holds your hip.

You feel the bulbous head nudge your lower set of lips apart before slowly easing in, your back arching at the pressure already building inside of you. A soft hiss escapes your throat as you try to take all of him, grateful when he pauses once he’s bottomed out within you. You take a deep breath for a moment and feel your muscles relax slightly as you adjust accordingly.

“Are ya ready?” Osamu’s voice comes out surprisingly soft as he leans over you, placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod quietly before feeling both hands on your hips as he slowly begins to pull out. You realize just how thick he is when you feel empty, though it doesn’t last for long when he slams right back into you. A strangled mewl bubbles from your throat as he begins to thrust in and out of you. You lower yourself onto your elbows on the counter and ball your hands into fists, no longer caring how you sound; you’re too lost in your own wave of pleasure.

As Osamu continues his ministrations, you feel the counter buzz slightly and hazily look around with half a mind to simply ignore it. You see Osamu’s phone shaking across the surface next to your discarded apron, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar name.

“’Samu, your phone,” you say between moans, “your phone is ringing.”

His hips slow, though his thrusts continue to hit deep inside of you. He doesn’t have to reach far to grab it and glances at the screen.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Stay still for me, will ya?”

You halfheartedly nod your head, though you can’t help but whine at the loss of friction as he stills inside of you.

“Hello?” His voice is even as he answers quickly. “This is Osamu, yes.”

It’s hard to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in your chest as he uses one hand to keep your hips still while the other holds his phone. He continues to speak formally, so you assume it’s probably someone important or has something to do with work. You know better than to tease him in the event that this call is actually important, but you can’t resist the urge to just roll your hips a little.

There’s a slight hitch in Osamu’s voice before he clears his throat, though it sounds more like a warning to you than anything. However, that doesn’t stop you as you grow more bold, deciding to create your own rhythm of shallow thrusts. His grip on your hip tightens, though it’s not enough to hurt you just yet.

“Something just came up, so I’m gonna have to call ya back,” you hear Osamu say, his voice becoming more strained as each second ticks by. When he finally hangs up, the phone smacks onto the table, startling you to a halt.

“Sorry, I couldn’t w-”

“Ya think yer so cute, dontcha? I told ya to stay still.” His voice is dangerously low as he hunches over, practically growling in your ear. You whimper softly in response, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. You’re not sure if you should be as turned on as you are right now, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stands upright and reaches around to grab one of your arms, practically yanking you back so you’re also standing up. His other hand reaches around to grab your other arm, pinning your wrists behind your back.

“If yer gonna act like a slut, I’m gonna fuck ya like one,” he snarls lowly and you resist the urge to moan. He manages to reach for your apron and rolls it up, looping it around your elbows.

As one hand holds your newly bound arms behind your back, the other holds your hips before he begins to pull out of you. You feel his whole length leave you empty with the exception of the tip and you’re about to complain again when you feel him slam back in roughly.

“Is this what ya thought of when ya were touchin’ yerself?”

You hardly contain the cry of mixed pain and pleasure as your back arches, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. You can barely process his words, though you know the embarrassment will hit you later; you simply can’t form coherent enough thoughts to care. The hand that was on your hip leaves but only momentarily before his palm claps against your ass. You yelp in surprise as he releases your arms.

“What, did ya never get spanked as a kid?” Osamu taunts as he rubs the reddening skin. You lean back over, supporting yourself on your elbows. His comment barely processes in your head as he does it again.

Coherent words fail to form as you feel your legs begin to tremble. You’re practically running towards another orgasm and you can tell Osamu is too, based on his unstable rhythm and sloppier movements. You feel one of his hands reach around you to play with your nipples while you let your own hand rub your clit, the sensations overwhelming you in a crashing wave of pure bliss.

As your walls tighten and flutter, Osamu pulls out and fists his cock a couple times before you feel hot ropes of cum paint your back and ass, a guttural groan leaving him.

“Holy fuck,” he pants once he recovers from his orgasm. You’re still shaking, bent over the island, breathing heavily.

A dull ringing can be heard in your ears from the intensity of your climax, but you faintly hear the sink running for a moment. Not long after, you feel a warm and damp towel wipe across the mess on your backside and Osamu’s gentle arm pulls you up.

“Hey, was I too rough on ya?” His voice is soft and you shake your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he hands you your clothes from the ground. “Do ya wanna eat now and shower later?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” you sigh as your head begins to clear up. You look over to your forgotten food, your mouth curving downwards into a frown. “Wait, did you not turn off the stove?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”

[themoomoorn]

Scarlet Blaze Salt Mine Highlights Because I Feel Like It(tm)

There's going to be so much petty salt that you'll probably need to get your blood pressure checked. Enjoy!

EDIT: Finished Scarlet Blaze, so I added more images. Part 2 is here.

The Sun Should Have Never Set on Our Empire(tm)

Somehow they made Faye but even worse. And unlike Faye, Monica is a garbage unit. Seems hard to pull off in a Musou game, but her spell list is a mess, as are her stats, and her personal skill is even worse.

They tried to erase her wanting to kill Rhea, but then she still says she wants to kill Rhea anyway. But devs said she's happier and nicer guyz.

Lorenz has siblings now I guess. Note that in his Lysithea Support, Hubert also mentions having a brother and a sister. but he's still the eldest. So why was he stuck to Child No. 9 again???

Labrunda was found in the Stockpile of Convenient Sacred Weapons That Exist Now(tm).

Not only does she still belittle the guy and think him unworthy of her time like in Houses, but come Chapter 14 (providing you kill Byleth's disaster dad), she apparently genuinely was upset that he betrays her. But then again, he happily licks her feet on Golden Piss, so meh.

...am I supposed to feel something right now

I'm beginning to suspect that the Koei devs were pissed that Byleth the Local Churchgoer was more popular than Edelgard.

Aegir has claim to a stretch of sea that doubles up as their trade route to Morfis. This specific trading relationship is also mentioned in one of the books that shares details about the Empire's territories.

Claude: "BUT FODLAN HATES FOREIGNERS AND THE MEANIE CHURCH SCREAMED AT THEM TO NEVER INTERACT WITH OUTSIDERS Now shut up Dimitri and let me raid your treasure vault you're only being ignorant of my customs."

Only Edelgard's feelings are allowed to be hurt, remember?

Also, whomever calls Byleth a block of wood again should probably take a look at Shez on SB, because calling SB!Shez a block of wood would be an insult to wood.

There's so much disturbing dehumanization of the Nabatean characters (and Byleth by extension), but sure, Arval's soooo sympathetic because he cares about his War Boys, I guess. Oh, and he denounced Thales! What a good lad! /s

Duma take the wheel

Cry about it

Look, I know a macaron is technically a type of cookie, but can't you just call it a goddamn macaron!? Bear in mind that this is the same game that conflates coffee with teff, and the localization actually made a good change by just calling the stupid drink coffee.

I murderkilled Byleth's disaster dad for this go-around and Byleth tips off Claude about...something. Of what, I don't know, but it makes Claude opt for an ill-fated betrayal. He lays it on thick with Byleth, and while Edelgard may get an extra chapter and a marginally better outcome by letting Walmart Greil live, the "what-if...ing..." if you will, is played up the hardest with Claude, which is really saying something considering the original game. And honestly, the what-if-ing does make a level of sense with Claude...but then, you have aspects of him that have nothing to do with Byleth at all perverted by the narrative, as detailed in this post.

Like seriously, even with something like having to murder a half-sibling who repeatedly says to your face that you're a mongrel who deserves to d*e looming over you, like...instead of making something potentially interesting, they derailed him so badly. Honestly, I feel for his Japanese VA struggling to get a good read on the character.

Anyway, end rant.

Even Byleth thinks he's laying it on thick.

I feel like this alleged duress of signing a pact with the Empire would've landed better if it actually was done in the span of days or even weeks, but GW and SB both state it took about four months, which would've been well after any dust settling from Shahid's second raid of the Locket.

Claude, the country you rule has like...almost zero culture.

Sigh.

No shit.

Fuck off, Claude.

Pictured: A "commoner's revolution designed to overthrow an opresuve sistum"

...seriously, why does this dude hate the Nabateans as virulently as she does? It's actually pretty ironic - folks will haw about Dedue or Catherine having no minds of their own, but it's Hubert who's really the most mindless one of all. He mostly lacks the rich inner lives and backstories the other two have.

Sylvain, 90% of the time, is C-Tier. 10% of the time, like right now though? SSS-Tier. Absolutely brutal. Wish we had even more of him.

YA THINK!?!?!?

Because I couldn't be bothered (and because the only Deer with exclusive Eagle Supports/incentives are Lysithea and Lorenz), I only got Shez whining about Claude betraying Egg. Most of the other Deer have unique dialogue doing the same. It's kind of sad how little most of them think of Claude, but then again, he can be a massive dick.

TBC Since I hit the image limit!

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 9.3

Boatem had a new member. Joe introduced Foolish to all the Hermits in Boatem but didn’t stay long before heading off to see if he could help X with the server problem. Once Joe found out that Cleo was gone he was determined to find a way to get her back. Grian was glad that X was getting some help, and he couldn’t think of anyone better than Joe when it came to server magic.

Foolish was rather nice too. Unlike the other two Dream SMP members he actually seemed to have a head for building. Grian soon found himself deep in a conversation about design problems and building pallets. Foolish even commiserated with him over interiors.

Pearl and Scar agreed to help Foolish settle in but he seemed pretty capable on his own. He just needed a little help with material collection. Foolish chose to build his house in the space between Grian's house and Scar’s Landboat. He went with a design that used sandstone as the main wall color and used spruce wood for support structures and detailing.

Even though Scar was supposed to be the one helping, Grian couldn’t help it and found himself hanging around as Foolish built. Grian wasn’t supposed to do strenuous building yet but he could still watch. Foolish showed Grian the building plans before he started. It was of an impressive size for a starter house, one that didn’t look out of place next to Grian, Scar or Pearls ridiculously large starters. It was going to be a multi-tiered house that got bigger as it went up taking inspiration from medieval houses. A crooked tower came out of the side of the building on the second floor and broke through the roof.

Grian sat in a lawn chair in front of his house and watched Foolish build, Adjusting the sunglasses over his eyes as he looked up.

Foolish stood on the roof near the base of the half finished tower. A Cobbled deepslate foundation at the bottom gave way to smooth sandstone, spruce logs made up support pillars at intervals with empty spaces for widows between.

“Looking good,” Grian called up.

Foolish looked back, shading his eyes with his hand, and smiled. “It’s coming along… I’m running low on sandstone though. I am going to need more if I am going to finish the tower. He carefully slid down the roof and climbed down the scaffolding. He brushed his hands off at the bottom and walked over to where Grian sat so he could get a better look at the build. “It could use some detailing, maybe some more color.” Foolish muttered

“Copper might look good. Or maybe some leaves and plants.” Grian suggested.

“Window boxes. That’s a good idea.” Foolish announced, brightening up. Grian watched as Foolish collected some grass from the yard, replacing it with dirt so it could grow back. Foolish walked over to the side of the house, and grew to over double his previous size, before proceeding to build window boxes under the second story windows.

Grian started at the sudden change and almost fell out of his chair “Wait, what? How did you-?”

Foolish turned around and looked down at Grian, “Oh right, this.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “This is nothing. I usually stay small because it is more convenient, but it’s useful for building sometimes, especially detail work.” He shrunk back down to a ‘normal’ size and looked at his hands flexing them. “Honestly, I haven’t felt this good in over a century… maybe, Like this, I might even be able to-” he looked up at Grian, a new kind of resolve and hopefulness in his eyes. “Grian do you have any gold and some emeralds I can borrow. I need to try something.”

Grian hesitated. This was server magic. That could be dangerous. But he was also curious. He stood up and nodded, “I have a little, how much do you need?”

Foolish came over “Only two emeralds and two blocks of gold.”

“Alright,” Grian nodded “That’s easy enough. What are you planning to do with it?”

“Oh you’ll see,” Foolish said, grinning with barely contained excitement.

Grian had an uneasy feeling about this but Joe had said that this guy had a really solid grasp on server magic, better than anyone Joe had ever seen before, even himself. Grian decided to trust him, maybe he could learn something. Something that could help them fix the crack Grian had made.

Grian went inside his house and opened his ender chest. Taking out the materials requested he handed them to Foolish who had followed him.

Foolish took the materials outside and placed them on the ground. “Alright stay back this should only take a minute,” Foolish said.

Grian watched from the doorway of his house.

Foolish took a deep centering breath and closed his eyes. He held his hand out over the pile of gold and gems. There was a tingle in the air. Green sparks danced along Foolish’s arm and between his fingers. The sky grew overcast with dark clouds and a rumble of thunder sounded.

Foolish shouted a word in enchantment-table that Grian recognized as meaning “Life.” and he was momentarily blinded by a bright green flash of light.

Grian blinked looking around. The sun was out again, the sky clear and standing in front of Foolish was a little girl made of gold with emerald eyes.

Foolish went down on one knee, beaming and holding out a hand to her. “What’s your name?”

She blinked at his hand for a moment then smiled “My name is Genesis,” She said grinning up at Foolish.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Foolish chuckled and picked her up, turning to Grian, “Grian, meet my daughter, Genesis.”

Grian stared in shock, his head spinning. His daughter?

---

Xisuma Immediately felt it. Like someone had just reached in and yanked a piece of the server free. It left him breathless. It was violent, but also precise.

“You ok there?” Joe asked, leaning over the table from where he had been looking through some old books on server magic.

X looked up at Joe from across the table. Fear wavering in his eyes. “You said that our latest visitor had experience with server magic right?”

Joe nodded slowly and frowned, “Yeah, he didn’t seem that concerned about the consequences either. Said he was experienced enough to know how to avoid them.”

“I just felt a surge of server magic. It felt like something reaching in and ripping a piece of its heart out.” X’s brows furrowed and he rested his hand on his chest over his heart.

“It’s heart…?” Joe muttered

X stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor “Come on, we need to go to Boatem and figure out what’s going on.”

---

X and Joe arrived in Boatem to find Foolish surrounded by the other Boatem members asking him excited questions while George and Skeppy watched from the roof of Skeppy’s house. X caught the concerned look Grian gave him as they approached.

Foolish turned around and for the first time X noticed the little girl in his arms. He didn’t need to ask to know she wasn’t an npc. She was a Player. A player who was a child? That was impossible. The second thing he noticed was that her energy matched that of the server.

He pulled up his GUI and checked Tab. She was there. She was listed as Genesis. Not only that but she was whitelisted, and unlike the other Dream SMP members, the server didn’t think she was one of the hermits.

Foolish furrowed his brow with concern, “Xisuma, what’s wrong?”

X snapped himself out of it and looked up at Foolish “What did you do?”

Foolish blinked. He looked genuinely confused. “Um, this is my daughter Genesis.”

“He made her out of some gold and emeralds twenty minutes ago.” Grian clarified.

“Um- Foolish,” Joe started carefully. “You know that’s not normal right?”

Foolish frowned holding his daughter closer.

“What we mean to say is that Players shouldn’t be able to make other Players.” X tried to explain.

“Just because you haven’t figured out how to do it doesn’t make it wrong. You wouldn’t understand, you've never been a father…”

“Whatever you did to the server, didn’t feel right. Normal new player spawning occurs when a server has excess energy that it needs to discharge, creating a player. You just took that energy before the server was ready. What you did was reckless at best, I haven’t had a chance to assess the damages but you may have just ruined our chances of us being able to fix this and send you all home. I don’t even know if that little girl can go with you when you go. She probably isn’t even whitelisted on your server.”

Foolish’s shoulders sagged and he looked off to the side. Genesis tugged at the fabric of his headdress and rested her head against his shoulder “Pa pa, Is this my fault? Are they mad because of me?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Foolish sighed and shifted her on his hip so she could see him smile “It isn’t your fault. And I don’t regret anything.”

X softened. What was done was done. It wasn’t fair to the child to hold it against them. Though the idea of a Player being such a young child was still strange to him. “Just don’t do any more server magic alright.” X sighed.

Foolish looked at X, a hint of resentment, or was it regret, behind his eyes, “Alright,” He nodded. X hoped he meant it. Maybe there was a good reason the DSMP locked it’s members in.

[axoxtxhxh]

First Date with the Vets - Erwin

Big shoutout to @chaotic-nick for making this lovely banner for me!

Overall Summary: I had this idea to do a first date with the vets and what it would be like. I am including Erwin, Levi, Miche, and Hange in this list. Each date will be different, but all of them will be set in modern au.

Check out Miche’s story here, Levi’s story here, and Hange’s story here

Pairing: Erwin x Fem!Reader

Content: Nearly all fluff

Word Count: ~ 6,100

Summary: Reader is on her way home to get ready for her blind date when she runs into a handsome stranger on her way home. On her way up to her apartment to get ready, the elevator breaks down with her and the handsome stranger stuck inside.

You were a little over a block from home, nearly running with your small bag from the convenience store clutched tightly in your hand. You hated running late. It didn’t really matter what the scheduled engagement was, you made it a point to always be the first one to show up. Today’s engagement was no different, but leave it to you to rip a hole in your pantyhose as you were getting dressed.

Your best friend, Fen, had set you up on a blind date with one of her co-workers. You hated blind dates, not to mention Fen had terrible taste in men. She had been begging you to at least meet him for a couple months now, but you kept finding reasons not to. The last time she asked, you ran out of reasons. So here you were, running back home ten minutes before he was supposed to arrive. With any luck, he will be as terrible as you expect and show up late, maybe not at all.

You turned down an alleyway, trying to save time by cutting through the side streets and picked up speed seeing your apartment building up ahead. The shortcut was quickly turning out to be a bad idea. There was only one streetlight all the way at the end and you couldn’t see anything, especially the puddle you barely missed, splashing dirty water on your leg. Perfect.

You rounded the corner quickly, ready with your key in your hand to unlock the lobby entrance when you slammed into the back of a large body standing in front of the door. Pushed back by the impact, you dropped your keys and bag on the floor, the cheap convenience store pantyhose rolling to the feet of the person you slammed into.

“Oh gosh. I’m sorry.” You reached down to pick up your stuff when the hand of the person reached it before you. A very large, strong hand with perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around the small plastic case of your pantyhose, holding it up to you.

Your eyes followed up his long arms. You could see how well-built he was even through the brown suit jacket he wore over a white button-down shirt, the top buttons undone so you could see the top of his strong chest. He had to be at least 6’2. Tall and broad.

“It’s my fault.” His ocean-blue eyes sparkled as his lips curled into a smile revealing his bright, white and honestly, dazzling smile. You almost giggled at the sight of him. “I shouldn’t make a habit of lurking in doorways.”

“It’s—uh, it’s not a problem.” You smiled, your eyes locked with his while you fumbled with your keys. Any other night. Any other night you could have stayed and chatted with this handsome stranger. But instead you had to race upstairs to finish getting ready. Your miserable Friday night was getting worse.

You finally fit your key into the keyhole and got the door unlocked, pushing it open. The handsome stranger helped you, holding it open and holding his hand to his stomach as he gestured you through. Damn, he even smelled good.

You moved quickly to the elevator, pushing the call button and trying not to focus on the handsome stranger following closely behind you.

“If you’re going to anything lower than the fifth floor, you might as well take the stairs,” you recommended, looking up to him, “this elevator takes so long, you could probably get there faster by walking.”

“I appreciate that information.” He smiled, pulling out his phone and clicking quickly, scrolling through. You used the opportunity to look at how you looked through the elevator doors.

What a hot mess you were in that moment. Your hair was a mess, your face red and sweaty, the bulky man’s coat you grabbed quickly on your way out the door hung on you like your dad’s t-shirt when you a child. The only redeeming thing about your look was your skirt. You had just bought the camel pencil skirt you were wearing a couple days ago, finding the high-slit a bit too sexy for your office, but it worked perfectly for a date night. The bottom hem shared the same dark stain from the rainwater as your legs and shoes did.

You sighed. Your shoes. You had on some old sneakers, knowing you needed to make the quick run to the store. It could have been that cute sexy-casual look if your shoes had still been white. Now they were brown and grey and smelled like a wet dog. Any chance you had in imagining this Greek god standing next to you would give you a second look were thrown out the window.

You could now see how well he was dressed. He had that dark academia look about him that made you weak. His slim-fit tweed herringbone pants accentuated the length of his legs and somehow made him look even taller, his blonde hair perfectly parted and smoothed back. He looked up from his phone and put it in his pocket.

“Looks like I’ll be taking the elevator with you.” He turned to look at you. “If you don’t mind the company.”

“Of course not.” You smiled back, biting your lip to hide your excitement. Maybe the night would be picking up after all.

The elevator dinged and the doors creaked open shakily. He held his arm out again, gesturing you inside first. It was honestly a bit unfair at how much of a gentleman he was. You dipped your head down and scurried in to hold the doors for him.

He stepped in after you and you pressed the close-door button, followed by eight, your floor. Turning to him, you noticed him staring at the buttons and asked which floor he needed.

“Eight as well.” He put his arms behind his back, and looked back at the door. You turned to face the door, mirroring him as you thought about which lucky woman on your floor was getting a visit from him. Possibly lucky man? Either way, someone was going to be having a great Friday night.

You filled your cheeks with air, puffing them up as you tried not to let yourself glance at him through the elevator doors. The building was old, the elevators dark, but it really was only the two of you and you were sure it seemed pretty obvious that you were staring.

Your eyes moved up to the numbers indicating which floor you were passing. Still only at the third floor, you let yourself peek at him from the corner of your eyes then turned your whole head when you thought he was staring at you. It turned out, he was only staring at the numbers and he quickly turned his eyes to you when he saw you turn to look at him. Damn it, you did that uncomfortable thing. You smiled and hoped that you seemed friendly and not creepy and stalker-like.

“You were quite right about the speed of the elevator.” He chuckled, a low hum that vibrated off the walls. “It’s exceptionally slow.”

You looked back at him, his teeth gleaming even in the darkness of the elevator. Was he trying to make small talk? You smiled to yourself at the attempt, assuming that’s what it was.

“It’s a pretty old buil—” The elevator slammed to a halt and cut your sentence short, both of you falling back. You reached for the rail next to you to brace yourself. The elevator lights flickered before turning off, seconds passing before the emergency lights came on.

“I take it that’s not supposed to happen.” You turned to him and shook your head.

“This is not happening.” You said aloud, more to yourself than anything. You were already running late and now this? You moved to the elevator buttons and started pushing them randomly, knowing they wouldn’t work, but hoping that your frustration was enough to get it started.

“I’m not getting a signal.” The man was holding his cell phone up in the air, trying to get a signal. “Do you want to try yours?”

You nodded and pulled out your cell phone. No bars. You tried holding it up, not reaching nearly as high as he was able to and finally trying to jump a little, trying to catch the reception you hoped sat at the ceiling. The man just stood there smiling at you until you finally noticed and you quickly turned away to hide your embarrassment.

“Maybe the phone here.” You opened the phone box to check inside only to find it empty and you dropped your head. “Damn it.”

This was even worse than how you had already thought your night was going to go. You checked your phone. You were definitely late now. Not only late, you were trapped in an elevator with no way of alerting someone that you were even there at all. Maybe Fen was right. Maybe you should have spent more money to move to a newer apartment building. You loved your little block though. Your apartment may have been old, but it was cute and had character. It was quiet on the weekends and it made the commute to work so much shorter than where you used to live. A cute apartment wasn’t helping you then though.

You heard a small sigh come from behind you and you turned around to see the man sitting on the floor. You didn’t think you were giving him any sort of look, but he stared at you for a second and then jumped up.

“My apologies.” He stuck his hand forward towards you. “My name is Erwin.”

“Y/N.” You took his hand which was surprisingly soft and gentle for someone his size.

“Y/N.” Erwin repeated. “Well we might as well get comfortable. I imagine someone will figure out the elevator stopped running soon enough.”

He sat back down on the floor, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing one foot over the other. He set his hand down on the area next to him and looked up at you.

“Would you like to join me?” He smiled and there was no way you were saying no to that.

One hour passed by remarkably fast. The two of you sat on the elevator floor and chatted about your jobs and where you grew up. At some point, both of your stomachs were growling and you opened up your big purse, pulling out some water and snacks. Erwin’s thick eyebrows lifted as you continued pulling out exactly what was needed.

“I like to come prepared.” You smiled shyly, hoping he wasn’t judging you.

“What else do you have in that magical bag of yours?” He scooted closer and you pulled out a bouncy ball, an old bus pass, your work keycard and a folded piece of paper. Erwin took the ball and the paper, opening it up and reading.

“Thirty-six questions to fall in love.” He held it up. “This is something you need to have with you at all times?”

“My friend gave me that.” You both laughed and you tried to grab it, but he pulled it away quickly.

“A friend, huh?” His eyes scanned over the first couple questions then looked at you. “I might be interested in asking you some of these questions.”

“Me?” Your eyes went wide. Why would he want to ask you any of those questions? You had to admit, you hadn’t actually read any of them when Fen gave you the paper, but if it’s about falling in love, you were sure the questions were about marriage and children. Why would Erwin want to ask any of those?

“I am a bit short on other participants.” He gestured around to the empty elevator. “Even so. You seem like you have a lot going on in your head.”

You looked up at him. This night was already a bust, stuck in an elevator with a stranger, albeit an incredibly handsome stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Why not reveal all of your insecurities, past boyfriends, career failures and whatever other strange questions that paper had.

You turned your body to face him, lifting your legs until you were sitting cross-legged and placed your hands on your knees.

“Fine.” You took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

The rules were simple. You each ask each other a question, alternating who asks and who answers until all the questions are asked an answered. It was important they are done in order because they get increasingly more personal. After all questions were answered, you and your partner are to stare into each other’s eyes for four minutes.

You couldn’t even say that was easier said than done because it really didn’t even seem all that easy just saying it. Four minutes? You’ve never looked into anyone’s eyes for longer than a couple seconds. This doesn’t even touch on the fact that these questions were going to get more personal as you moved. The only thing that made this even remotely worth it was knowing every question you had to answer, Erwin had to answer the same one and you would be lying if that wasn’t exciting you.

…..

“Number three. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?” Erwin set the list down in between you as you thought about the question. It didn’t really require that much thought honestly. You were a highly anxious person.

“Yes.” You nodded once and smiled. Erwin waited for you to keep going, but you just stared at him and then remembered. “Oh right! I ask the next one.”

You picked up the paper and Erwin took it from you, holding it above him and laughing at you as you let confusion spread across your face.

“It’s expected you also answer why.” He explained. “The idea is to get to know each other.”

“Yes, but I thought the reasoning was obvious.” You pointed out.

“Not to me.” He lowered his hand, setting the paper down as he watched you fiddle with your fingers.

“I find it almost necessary to practice it. Otherwise I’ll stumble over my words and get confused.” You admitted, shifting uncomfortably. You looked up and smiled, trying to pretend you weren’t as uneasy as you looked. “I bet you don’t have to do that.”

“I think we each have our own insecurities.” His smile was so understanding it had you biting your lip and looking down quickly, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I appreciate you sharing your answer.”

…..

“Number eight.” You paused as you read the question to yourself, a small gust of worry running through you. This definitely meant he was going to look at you. “Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.”

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes down on the paper, trying your best not show how uncomfortable it was going to be to have him staring at you. You could already feel his gaze. Was he looking at the dirt on your legs and skirt? Was he critiquing how messy your hair was or how your shirt didn’t match the rest of what you were wearing? Maybe he was judging your feet and your choice of socks. You looked down, making sure you did, in fact, shave your legs.

You couldn’t handle it anymore. You let your eyes slowly look up at him, meeting his stare. He was sitting cross-legged, his chin resting on his fist which was propped up on his knee, the smile on his face had a flush of warmth rushing to your cheeks and swirling in your chest.

“To start, I think we both care quite a bit about how we’re perceived by others.” He leaned back on his arms, straightening his legs out, his left leg brushing against yours and you shivered at the warmth. “We have a similar sense of fashion. I also have that same coat.”

He pointed to your jacket laying on the floor and you looked over at it, taking the moment to look away from him and gather yourself. He was quiet and you wondered if maybe he didn’t realize that was only two things in common. You turned to look at him.

“You’re supposed to name three.” You reminded him, looking at him with your eyebrows together. He smiled.

“I would stake a guess that we’re both big rule followers.”

…..

“Alright. Number thirteen. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?” He set the paper down in front of you, going back to resting his chin on his fist, a position you were beginning to realize was his go-to.

“Hmm…” You thought about it. There was no way you would ever want to know your future. You did that once at a carnival and you had anxiety for the next year over it. “I guess I would want to know the truth about myself.”

“What about yourself?”

“I think I would ask if I was a good person.” You nodded slowly. “Yeah, I would want to know if I am a good person.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A good person.” He laughed.

“That’s what I would ask. I don’t know.”

“Well what is a good person?” He sat up straight. “To you. Your definition.”

“To me?” You were fiddling with your fingers again, a nervous habit that you often did when you were feeling eyes on you. “I guess someone who tries their best to be helpful and kind to everyone equally.”

“I think that’s a fair definition.” He nodded and you picked up the paper. “Do you do those things?”

“The things I listed?” You knew what he was getting at. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“So you have a definition of what a good person is and you’re already doing those things. Why do you need to ask a crystal ball if you’re a good person?”

“For confirmation?” You honestly had no idea. Why did you want to ask that? Erwin had a point. “I guess I don’t feelgood enough?”

“But if a crystal ball told you it was enough, you would believe it?” It all sounded so good in your head, but when you put it out there and he repeated it, it sounded like something a child would say.

“I guess it sounds kind of dumb when it’s said like that.” You laughed uncomfortably.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” He put his hand on yours and you shivered at the warmth and looked up. His eyes looked so concerned.

“No, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad for saying it. I just realized it sounded bad out loud.” You both laughed at your apologies. Erwin rested his chin back on his fist.

“I was just trying to say that if something as simple as a crystal ball was enough for you to believe you were a good person, would you believe me if I told you?”

“This is only number thirteen.” You smiled. “Are you sure you know me well enough?”

…..

“Fifteen. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?” You put the paper down in between you both, the space that was beginning to grow smaller as you each moved closer together.

You were both getting increasingly more comfortable with each other as the questions got deeper and more personal. You had removed your shoes, scooting closer to Erwin while he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, moving closer to you.

Erwin looked up, thinking about the question. You’ve been enjoying the questions more as they went on, making Erwin think a bit more each time before answering. It gave you time to admire his face, his perfect bone structure, his incredible blue eyes, and the way he liked to tap his finger on his lip when he thought about things.

“I want to say deciding my career path.” He looked at you and it made you smile. “I thought I would… I was expected tofollow in my father’s footsteps and become a teacher, but I chose my own path. I’m happy with that.”

“What do you like about your current job?” You asked him.

“I like my job because it gives me the freedom to continue things I have interest in, like teaching kids about finance.”

“Wait.” You held your hand up. “You are proud of not following your father and being a teacher so that you could get a job in finance just so you could teach kids finance?”

“It certainly sounds silly when you say it like that.” You both laughed.

…..

“Twenty-nine. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.” You put your hand out and Erwin took an M&M from it, tossing it in the air and you caught it in your mouth, the only way you were allowed to eat them then, a rule you made around question twenty.

“Okay, I have it.” Erwin chewed his M&M you tossed him and continued. “When I was interviewing for my current position, I had never been to the building before that so I wasn’t familiar with it. The whole building is, in essence, a big glass box. It’s all windows, even the doors just look like large windows, but not the tinted ones. These are the completely clean and nearly invisible windows. As I made my way up the steps, I thought it was an open floorplan without any doors, so I just walked forward and stepped straight into the glass.”

You threw your head back with laughter and quickly tried to cover your mouth so he wouldn’t feel bad, snorting into your palm. Erwin smiled at you, his hand brushing over your waist before dropping to the ground.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized. “That’s a very understandable mistake. Honestly. It’s not so bad.”

“Yes, well.” He continued, a small smile on his face. “I also did it on my way out the building after the interview.”

You were roaring with laughter now. You tried your best to cover your mouth, but even your eyes were watering. You put your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, but dropped your face there until you could calm yourself down enough.

“I’m sorry. Really. I shouldn’t be laughing at you for that.”

“It’s quite alright.” He bit his bottom lip before quickly smiling. “It’s worth it to see you smile.”

…..

“Question thirty-one. Tell your partner something that you like about them already.” Erwin set the paper down. It was quite amazing actually. You had only been in the elevator for a couple hours. You’ve only known Erwin for a couple hours. Looking at the way he set the paper down, how he was holding his face, barely looking away from you, slowly sitting back against the wall, his hands rubbing over his thighs to wipe the nervous sweat from his palms, he was uneasy. You could see it. Even knowing him for such a short time, you could already tell what he looked like when he was nervous. Thinking about it made the corner of your mouth turn up in a small smile.

You had a feeling he would expect the obvious things. He was a gentleman, he was honest, he was kind, he spoke well. You wanted to give him something to make his eyes shoot up to meet yours and to make a small smile grow on his face.

“I like that you helped take this really terrible situation on an already crappy Friday night and made me have the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” His eyes shot up to look at you, a small smile growing on his face. Bingo.

…..

You laughed, blowing air from your mouth as you tried to hold it in, giving up and throwing your head back with a loud laugh. Erwin was smiling at you, his cheeks coloring pink as he absentmindedly slid his hands over your waist.

It was too embarrassing, too cringy, too intimate for someone you just met and you were sure even if you knew each other well, it would be just as awkward. You managed to calm yourself down enough, still letting out puffs of air and giggling every time the discomfort crossed your mind.

“Let’s try again.” Erwin spoke softly, shaking your hips a little as he smiled.

“It wasn’t embarrassing enough that you want to do it again?” Your eyes went wide.

“I just shared thirty-six highly personal pieces of information about myself. What’s four minutes of looking into eyes as beautiful as yours?”

Your jaw dropped open, bottom lip moving up and down as you searched for something to say. He was flirting, that was definitely flirting. The idea of a man like this flirting with you left you a bit speechless. You finally just sank back, smiling shyly as you looked at your hands.

“We don’t have to.” He leaned his head to the side to look at your face. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay.” You looked up at him. The idea of a man like him flirting with you might be unbelievable, but this whole situation was a bit unbelievable and while you were living in a dream, you might as well really live in it. “Let’s try again.”

He smiled and it melted your insides. You weren’t a confident person naturally. There were a handful of things you could confidently say you didn’t overthink, but the majority of the time, you were always second guessing everything you did, every decision you made. So when you decided to sit yourself on his legs in front of him, hands resting on either side of his thighs, you were just as surprised as he was, his blue eyes peering into yours as his eyebrows dropped and he let out an exhale.

“Start the timer,” you instructed. He didn’t even look down at his phone as he started the four-minute timer from zero. He dropped a quick glance down to your lips and brought his eyes back to yours, a small smile played on his lips.

You weren’t brazen enough to sit on his thighs, your butt rested comfortable on his shins and your upper body leaned forward towards him, but the new shift in position gave you a confidence you didn’t have a moment before.

His phone let out one small beep and you smiled. One minute had passed. You held his gaze, noticing him licking his lips, his tongue fliting out and the tiniest lip bite before he rested his lips in a smile. You shifted in your spot and his hands inched their way to yours. His first finger getting there first, wrapping itself around your pinky and you smiled, encouragement to have the rest of his hand follow.

A second beep from his phone and he rubbed his hand gently up and back down your forearm. You sat yourself a bit closer, lifting yourself off his legs and slowly scooting forward until your butt rested on the cushy muscles of his thighs. His hands connected with yours until they slipped free and rested on your waist, sliding back and roughly grabbing the extra meat of your hips. He blinked slowly, licking his lips and you felt like your heart would beat out of your chest. He raised his knees, sliding your body down his thighs and pushing you up against his chest, your faces barely an inch apart.

You couldn’t help but smile at him and he brushed your hair from your face, his hand cupping your jaw while his other hand brought your body even closer to him. His eyes moved to your lips, looking away from your eyes for the first time since the four minutes started.

You rested your palms on his chest, feeling just how firm, yet soft it was before letting yourself lean in to press your lips tenderly to his. It was like electricity shooting through your body at the contact and your hands quickly moved to the back of his head, pulling him in. He must have felt the same way because his hands slid up your back to keep you in his lap and resting against him.

You moved your lips slightly against his and he opened his mouth, teasing your lips with his tongue until you opened your mouth. He didn’t push his way in, his tongue waited for yours to meet him halfway before he started exploring the cavern of your mouth. You panted against his mouth. You were amazed that he still tasted like minty toothpaste, even after all the snacks you both ate and you wondered if your breath had any remnants of anything fresh, but the pull of his hands to bring you closer had you thinking it couldn’t be that bad.

His hand slid lower down your back, the touch giving you chills. He timidly ran over your hips, and moved back up, settling on your waist. You slid towards him a bit, your hips barely lifting up before resting back in his lap and he groaned, a deep rumble that echoed off the walls of the elevator and vibrated through to your own chest.

You smiled. Your lips pulling away from his, but your hands remained in his hair, brushing through the blond locks now entirely out of place. He sighed, looking at where his hands were resting on your hips. He moved one of those hands to your cheek and leaned back in to kiss you as the four-minute alarm on his phone sounded and you both jumped, laughing quietly.

He turned back to you and continued leaning in, his hand moving to behind your head as his lips reached yours.

“Hey! Is there someone in there?” Someone called from outside the elevator. Your eyes widened and you stood up.

“Hello? Yes! We’re stuck!” You called through the doors, hoping your voice was loud enough. You turned back to Erwin, grinning with excitement and he stood up, fixing his shirt sleeves and moving behind you.

“Alright! We got a guy who can open up these doors.” The man called from outside.

You stepped back, directly into Erwin’s arms and he held your shoulders. The contact with him made you turn around to look at him. He had his suit jacket back on and you remembered your shoes. The man that was outside started prying open the doors and you grabbed your shoes, sliding them on and picking up the things from your purse that were scattered along the ground.

In the corner of the elevator was the small plastic capsule of your pantyhose and for a moment, you froze. In the time you were stuck in there with Erwin, for a short amount of time you had completely forgotten about your blind date. The man probably waited for hours only to hear nothing back from you. Guilt was starting to settle in. Even if you didn’t want to go on the date in the first place, you weren’t the kind of person to just leave someone hanging like that. And the whole time you were in here enjoying yourself with Erwin. Well, you may have been trapped, but knowing you were having fun with someone else made your stomach fill with shame.

You stood up, having collected all your things and faced the elevator doors. Your mood shifting entirely from only moments before. Erwin had grabbed his things and put his shoes back on. You could see light coming from the slowly growing crack in the elevator doors and you squinted a bit as your eyes adjusted. Erwin moved closer to you, his arm pressing against yours as he leaned in.

“Y/N, I…” You looked up to him.

“Alright, that’s it. You guys can come through.” The man told. Erwin pressed his lips together in a smile.

“After you.” He gestured. You stepped through the elevator doors onto the landing of the sixth floor.

You only had a couple floors to walk up and while you could have done it alone, it was nice walking with him. That is, until the realization hit that you were only going to be walking with him for a couple short flights of stairs, after which, you will say your good-byes and most likely never see each other again.

There really wasn’t any way this man wanted to see you more than the forced three hours he just had to endure. You sighed to yourself. That thought coupled with the mixture of guilt for your blind date was enough for this Friday night. When you made it to your floor, you opened the stairwell door, made sure to hold it for him and quickly hurried to your apartment and unlocked the door.

You rushed inside, closing the door behind you and resting your head against the door. That was fun, but there was no way it was going further. Your date may have been cancelled at this point, but Erwin still had time for whatever rendezvous he had planned. Just the thought of you kissing him without knowing anything about who he was coming to see was making you cringe.

Beyond that, there was the notion that your kiss would lead to something and that was embarrassing enough. You didn’t need to stick around after that. To think that anything else would come of it was a lot of pressure and expectations on him just to fulfill your little girl fantasy. You both got caught up in the moment and that was it. There was nothing else to it. You took a deep breath and set your bag on the floor.

Walking to your dining room table, you pulled out your phone to call your friend. You may not have wanted to go on that blind date at all, but forcing the poor schmuck to wait hours for you without even a text was unfair.

As you unlocked the screen, you saw twelve unread messages from Fen and quickly looked through them.

[6:30pm I just spoke with him. He’s on his way to your place now.]

[6:38pm I guess I forgot to mention how punctual he is.]

[6:38pm A lot better than me, right? XD]

[6:45pm What are you going to wear?]

[6:50pm You’re so lucky you have a friend like me to set you up on dates for a Friday night.]

[6:51pm He just texted me. He’s at your place]

[6:51pm Why aren’t you answering your bell??]

[6:52pm You’re not standing him up, right? Please, he’s so cute!]

[6:54pm Someone let him in. I told him your apartment number. You better let him in!]

[7:15pm I haven’t heard from him so you must be out. Why aren’t you texting me??]

[7:16pm I guess that must mean you’re having a great time!]

[7:24pm I just ate a whole pack of Oreos.]

Your heart was racing. Someone let him in? You checked the time of the message. Someone let him in around the time you were letting Erwin into the lobby. Your jaw dropped, your mind hurrying through your thoughts.

You didn’t have time to think about it because your doorbell rang and your head shot up from your phone as your heart nearly leapt from your chest. Hesitantly, you set your phone down on the table, letting your mind believe what you were hoping was true. Before you could overthink it, you walked to the door, unlocking it and turning the knob, taking a deep breath before pulling the door open.

Erwin stood there, his jacket back on, shirt straightened and hair back in place.

“I—uh… it looks like I’m your date for tonight.” He smiled nervously at you, his phone in his hands with Fen’s name on the screen. “If you’re still interested, I would very much like to accompany you to dinner.”

You were still interested. You were more than still interested. What were the chances that the man you enjoyed so much time with stuck in an elevator was the date you were supposed to meet all along? You made a mental note to thank Fen because, for once, she was spot on with this match. You smiled broadly and pretended to think about it, playfully tapping your finger to your lips in the same way he did when he thought.

“How do you feel about having dinner at my place?” You stepped back a bit, opening the door wider.

“I think I’d like that very much.” He stepped inside and you closed the door.

[oliverwvvd]

the potential for chaos

For the anon who asked about Yule Ball Flintwood, this is a beginning of sorts for you. This didn’t turn out the way I anticipated originally when you presented the concept, so I offer this as version 1.0 with something softer to follow.

pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood

premise: Marcus shows up to the Yule Ball solo. So does Oliver. Neither one is especially pleased about it, and the reasons why are personal.

wordcount: 2,194 words.

The Yule Ball. Welcome to the distinct scent of too much teenage desperation in one room.

The snide thought belonged to Marcus Flint, whose dress robes fit just fine, thanks very much, not that the same could be said of some of the people attending. Weasley the younger, for example, looked like a cat crawled onto the front of his robes, rolled around, and then obligingly threw up a lacy hairball before departing. Marcus’ were, shockingly, not green, because Slytherins were in fact capable of wearing colours that weren’t the house colours. Instead, he’d gone for navy blue, and they were tailored to fit. For now, he was leaning with his right shoulder firmly parked against a nearby wall, drink in hand (liberally spiked, courtesy of Pucey’s far too innocent face which had successfully hidden very good Firewhiskey somewhere on his person), and settling into the buzz around him.

He was razor-edged, dark hair and sharp jawline identifying him in the shadows, gaze steady still despite the warm burn of the Firewhiskey, and the growing warmth of the room. The music was alright, he supposed. He could work with this. He could especially work without being forced to find a date he didn’t like just to fit in, because no one dared give him crap about it. That left him with a sour thought of a very different kind he’d already decided not to dwell on. A lot of other people were on the dancefloor, but he was good right where he was, absorbing the potential for chaos and waiting for the lights to go just a little lower and darker. That was more his speed.

Unfortunately, someone else didn’t seem to care what his speed was, when they came up behind him and spoke into his ear. “You look bored, Flint. Looking for someone?”

Marcus didn’t even turn his head, simply took a sip of his drink. “Hardly. You evidently were, if you spotted me back here. Shouldn’t you be with your date, Wood? I’m sure you had a list of invites to choose from.” The words were cool and more than a little antagonistic, holding the pointed hint that he’d been fine by himself, and that Wood was welcome to leave him be now.

The other boy didn’t so much as take the hint, instead spoke more quietly, that hint of Glasgow burr there and gravelly in his ear. “Didn’t accept an invite, so no date. You?”

A little more to drink, but then he caught a hint of Firewhiskey that distinctly wasn’t from him. “So, you’ve also been in a corner drinking from whatever enchanted hipflask you and your mates in Gryffindor came up with, then,” he observed dryly. “Please to Merlin tell me at least that it’s not one with someone’s initials on it for when they inevitably drop and lose it later, at least.”

There was a very nearly painful silence then, and Marcus snorted, soft but still audible. “It figures.” It really, really did. “You know, it’s good form to at least cast a charm to hide the initials, Wood. I’m assuming it at least doesn’t belong to you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Marcus usually had to shut his eyes and count to ten before he bit the offending person’s head off and told them to mind their business at this stage. The Firewhiskey mellowed him out enough that it took away the edge to some degree, but it was still there.

“Good observation skills there, Wood,” he remarked, aware of other people potentially in earshot. “It’s almost as though it’s not really any of your business. Which it isn’t. But since you apparently can’t let it drop, I chose to attend solo. This is like a knock-off of all the same stuff that half of us deal with on holidays anyway.” The curse of the Sacred 28, old pureblood family gatherings and traditions and parties littered every holiday throughout the year. Inevitably, they all found ways of coping with the boredom after the age of fifteen, and usually that involved finding substances or decent company (preferably both) and vanishing from the scene entirely once it was deemed polite.

Wood moved in front of him then, there in the corner, solidly built shoulders blocking the rest of the room, mirroring the way Marcus leaned against the wall. He didn’t have any choice but to look at him then, and could only be grateful that the warm breath into his ear had stopped. If it hadn’t, he might have had to think too hard about how it made him feel, and he really didn’t want to right now.

“So you didn’t come with anyone.” It seemed like Wood was trying to make a point, but Marcus couldn’t tell what. It was frustrating, so rather than focus on that, he looked at the boy in front of him instead. He’d been lanky when they were younger, a bit skinny and coltish, but Quidditch had bulked him out and he was solidly built now at seventeen. And then there was the choice of dress robes; apparently he wasn’t the only one who made use of a tailor for once. That was a fine outline right there.

Realising he was admiring the view and that that wouldn’t do given the reason why he was in a mood in the first place, Marcus exhaled a sigh. “Obviously. What do you want, Wood?”

Wood seemed to realise he only had a finite amount of patience. That was a years overdue realisation as far as Marcus was concerned. “To dance with you.”

That made Marcus stare for a few seconds. Seeming to register that he wasn’t going to get a response unless he pushed, Oliver tilted his head at him. “One dance, Marcus. Something slow. We can stay right here in the corner for all I care, since you seem to prefer lurking in the shadows.” Then brown eyes examined him far too closely, his lips curled up into a smile that held just a hint of smirk at the edges. “Presuming you’re not too caught up in posing and sulking, of course.”

Oliver was crowding him now, just a little, and Marcus wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about it yet. His immediate response was no longer to punch the other boy in the face, that had been gone for a long while, so that was progress. “You can’t hold your Firewhiskey and you’re seriously misreading things, if that’s the best offer you can give me,” he pointed out bluntly. “So if you don’t mind, I’ll continue minding my own business right where I am. Lurking in the shadows.” That was when he leaned back and away, and took another sip of his drink. No one could see them back here. That thought made his pulse race.

Oliver (Wood, his mind stubbornly reminded him, trying to hang onto it) wasn’t necessarily going to just leave him alone, though, or so it appeared. “Then come out of here with me for a minute,” he said, voice quiet but still carrying through the space between them. “I want to talk to you about something.”

Marcus sighed exasperatedly, and drained what was left in the cup. Obligingly, it vanished the moment he set it down on a nearby table, and at this point, he’d given up arguing with Oliver. “Fine. You get two minutes.”

Once they did get outside, though, Marcus hadn’t quite registered just how much Oliver intended to make the most of those two minutes. He found himself rapidly dragged around a corner and pressed into an alcove hidden behind a statue that he hadn’t even known was there. When he went to ask what the fuck, Oliver put a hand over his mouth. “Shh, someone will hear.”

Beyond annoyed and now suspecting where this was going, neither of which he enjoyed, Marcus dragged Oliver’s hand off his mouth and hissed his next words. “What are you doing?”

Earnest brown eyes were fixed on him then, and this time, Marcus couldn’t get away or give him the cold shoulder. “Are you seriously still mad that someone tried to ask me to this thing?”

Marcus gave him a truly evil glare then. “You mean, am I pleased that someone else asked the person I’m not allowed to walk down the corridor with? I’m absolutely thrilled. Someone else walks up to you and asks right where I can hear; I kiss you in dark corners and Quidditch changing rooms for three months and get ignored when convenient.” The tone was flat, but the sarcasm wasn’t.

He saw Oliver wince, and then, completely annoyed and altogether done with the conversation, Marcus went to shoulder past him. Instead, he found himself pushed back into the stone, found himself being kissed, and he wasn’t letting Oliver think that was the last word on it. He wasn’t about to be lulled into compliance. Rather than lean into it, instead, he nipped the other’s bottom lip sharply, just enough to make him feel it, a kiss like a warning, before he reached up and sunk his fingers into his hair.

If he couldn’t have the evening, he was going to make sure Oliver went back with bruised, swollen lips, hair a mess, and every possible hallmark to show that he’d vanished with someone. Let everyone wonder who.

That it changed when Oliver seemed to yield, to surrender to being kissed rather than one doing the kissing didn’t escape Marcus either. It wasn’t until he could feel him trembling that Marcus released him, leaving him looking faintly dizzy where he stood. He smoothed out his robes then, slow and insouciant, enough to make Oliver watch the trail of his hands. “I’m not going to take whatever scraps you decide to throw me and be happy that’s all I get,” he said, words short, making sure they landed home. This was probably one of the worst sides of him. “You don’t act like it, so you don’t get to call me yours. Because I’m not.” Wasn’t that just the biggest lie he’d ever told, but it was supposed to be, because he was doing it purely to be mean and he knew it.

He lifted his thumb to the corner of his mouth then ran it along to the middle of his own lower lip, as though he could taste Oliver there. He could, Firewhiskey and everything that had become so familiar since they first crashed into trying to understand what this was. The reason he really did it, though, was to be a little bit cruel, to watch Oliver’s pupils dilate some more, to see him want to close the distance again, and then to deny him. Or at least, that’s the intention, right up until Oliver shakes his head. “Merlin help me you’re impossible sometimes,” was the set of words bitten out. “I was trying to apologise. To tell you that I only wanted to go with you, but I also wanted to protect this because it’s ours and people are incredibly nosy. I’m not ashamed of what we’re doing. You might not be mine, but I want you to be.”

Those were a set of words that Marcus badly wanted to be true, and it was enough to stop him cold, to make him rein in the sulking (if he was honest about what he’d been doing, that was it) and register them. The attempts to deflect hard that his feelings had actually been hurt had all ultimately proven to be unsuccessful, and he knew better than to use kissing as a weapon, it too often backfired and this was very much a case in point.

As though Oliver sensed the weakness somehow, damn him for it, the next time he was being touched was much gentler. “We could dance right here, if you wanted.” The words were breathed between them. That was when Marcus realised that they could still hear the music from the hall.

He made a decision. “Nah,” he said, not hesitating to turn down the suggestion. “Come on. Let’s go back inside.” He gave Oliver a pointed look then, and threw down the gauntlet. “Together.” It was a ceasefire, or the closest that they’d get, because they still needed to talk about the actual feelings involved at some point.

There was no phasing a Gryffindor with that kind of challenge, though, so Oliver didn’t even bat an eyelid. Show them anything like a bet you can’t and they immediately decided that not only could they, but screw you who says I can’t. The only reply Marcus got was a hand in his. It turned out he did want to kiss Oliver softly then, so it still took a few minutes longer for them to get back to the hall. When they did, the night sky that illuminated the ceiling had darkened to hold a spill of stars, and the lights had gone down to something far lower and barely there.

Oliver got his one dance. What he also got was a truth in his ear. “I’m only yours if you’re mine. Non-negotiable. What about it?”

The night wasn’t over yet.

[star-killer-md]

Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that. 

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for. 

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets. 

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.” 

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff. 

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair. 

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.” 

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.” 

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing. 

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.” 

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same. 

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob. 

Definitely not.  

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things. 

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed. 

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway. 

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you. 

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early. 

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily. 

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges. 

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font. 

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied. 

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence. 

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient. 

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms. 

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.  

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.” 

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway. 

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before. 

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall. 

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him. 

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in. 

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey. 

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook. 

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side. 

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—” 

“She’ll be busy.” 

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.” 

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.  

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth. 

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience. 

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened. 

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious. 

And left you seething nonetheless. 

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it. 

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was. 

The quiet before the storm and all that. 

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.” 

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted. 

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape. 

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.” 

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers. 

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle. 

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket. 

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time. 

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped. 

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies. 

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren. 

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh. 

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—” 

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.” 

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers 

biting into your jaw. 

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them. 

“Answer.” 

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control. 

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear. 

“Swallow.” 

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice. 

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement. 

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin. 

But it was very clear to you what he really meant. 

Remember who you belong to. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet. 

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.” 

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him. 

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there. 

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock. 

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either. 

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure. 

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.” 

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside. 

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you. 

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.” 

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching—Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire. 

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length. 

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth. 

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours. 

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock. 

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”  

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him. 

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt. 

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth. 

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him. 

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure. 

Oh you were so royally fucked. 

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you. 

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore. 

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.” 

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length. 

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it. 

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was. 

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose. 

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door. 

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence. 

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.” 

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after. 

Maybe it didn’t matter. 

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day. 

Maybe that didn’t matter either. 

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it. 

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Here’s a little oneshot based on the new Coco short, “A Day in the Life of the Dead.”

Guess we gotta do everything ourselves, huh? :P

---~~~---

"I can't believe this!"

Héctor, who had merely been dozing on the couch, immediately jumped, his phantom heart pounding as his mind raced to think of what he'd done wrong.

"They told me they would help, and they leave for a bike ride?!"

Once her words sank in, he relaxed, holding a hand over his chest. Right. You're not the only one she gets angry at, he reminded himself as he rose up from his seat. He could feel a slight weariness to his bones, but it wasn't as bad as it had been; his energy levels were finally on the rise again after his near-second-death experience.

Even though he was sure it wasn't him Imelda was mad at, he still approached the dining room with caution, noting that Imelda was still staring out the window at the overcast sky and fuming. "Imelda—?"

She spun around, and he jumped back, grabbing the edge of the table for support and wincing. "Eeeh... lo siento, I was just wondering if you... needed help with something?"

Rolling her eyes, she glanced back out the window. "Ay, it's just mis hermanos. I told them I needed help with the shopping and they conveniently forgot."

"Well, they did just finish building their bike," Héctor added quickly. "Maybe they got so excited it slipped their mind?"

"As it often happens with them," Imelda muttered, still looking out the window where Pepita lay grooming herself in the yard. "I'll have to ask Victoria then—"

Héctor perked up. "Oh, she went to the library this morning."

Imelda paused. "...Julio, then—"

"Out on a delivery."

She stared back at him, one brow raised.

"I've, um." Héctor fidgeted. "I've just been paying attention."

It was true—he still felt awkward around his newfound family, and many of them felt the same way around him. He wasn't entirely comfortable around them yet, but he was starting to get to know them from just sitting back and listening.

He cleared his throat. "Rosita is—"

"Manning the shop, today, I know," Imelda finished, shaking her head. "I suppose I'll have to do it on my own then. Pepita's helped me carry the groceries before—"

"I can help!" Héctor exclaimed before he could stop himself. When Imelda immediately tensed at the idea, he did too, but he shook himself. "It's not like I've got anything else to do—"

"You need to rest, Héctor," Imelda insisted. "It's only been a few weeks since—"

"I-I'm doing a lot better!" True, but not entirely truthful, since he wasn't quite back to normal just yet, but she didn't know that. Not to mention, after sitting around the house for nearly two weeks, he was itching to go somewhere. He took a step closer, making a wide gesture with his hand. "C'mon, you'll need help carrying everything, right?"

Slowly Imelda looked him up and down, and immediately he knew what she was looking at—he still wore the same tattered outfit he'd been wearing for... a while, now. He'd lost track of how many years he'd had this one, and he hadn't even gotten around to even washing it—no one wanted to bother him while he was resting.

But finally her shoulders drooped. "Fine," she said, and immediately straightened again. "But only if we pick out a better outfit for you to wear."

Héctor's brows raised. "S-sí, Imelda!" he exclaimed, hurrying over to the front door to open it for her. Rolling her eyes, she snatched a shopping list from the table and walked outside. As he followed behind, she gave a sharp whistle.

Pepita yawned, turning her head toward Imelda and blinking slowly... only to seem to do a double-take, her ears perking and pupils widening as she fixed her gaze on Héctor. Immediately he stepped back, shuddering at the enormous cat—too many times she'd stood between him and Imelda.

But Imelda didn't seem to notice. "Pepita, you will take us to the market."

Once or twice Pepita looked between her and Héctor before obediently holding out her wings so they could climb aboard. Héctor hung back. "Uh..."

"Vámonos, Héctor," Imelda called, already climbing onto the alebrije's shoulders.

"Right! Um..." With a few uneasy glances at Pepita's face, he grasped the dense fur on her side and climbed up onto her back, situating himself a bit behind the wings, but not on the tail this time. To his surprise, the beast made a terrible rumbling noise, and he hunched himself down lower, grabbing the fur on her back more tightly. (Or was he doing it too tight? Was he making her mad?)

Before he was able to ask, however, Pepita's muscles coiled beneath them before she sprang into the air, taking off at a frightening speed toward the market district. Héctor couldn't help giving a cry of horror, holding his hat tightly against his head with one hand while his other gripped the fur beneath him. At least he couldn't look down below the alebrije, he thought, and at least there was no danger of sudden spasms threatening to throw him off.

A soft sound caught his attention over the roar of the wind, and he risked looking up. All at once his fear was forgotten when he realized... it was Imelda.

Laughing.

It wasn't until his mouth felt uncomfortably dry that he realized his jaw had (not literally) dropped.

The past couple weeks hadn't exactly been relaxed ones, with the media being in a flurry over the events of Dia de Muertos and the family scrambling to suddenly accommodate for a new (and for a short while, bedridden) member.

He... hadn't heard her laugh all that often. Not in a long time.

There was no time to think on it any more, however, as the towers of the market district rose up around them and Pepita dove down for a landing.

Héctor's dismount from the alebrije was no more graceful than it had been the first time, but he offered his assistance to Imelda nonetheless. She pointedly ignored him, slipping down on the other side, and he sighed in defeat. His steps felt heavier as he walked around Pepita... until the cat nudged him from behind, causing him to yelp. "I'm moving, gata, ay...!" he muttered, scrambling after Imelda.

While it was nice getting to walk the streets again, his gaze was entirely on Imelda. For a moment he had to marvel at the fact that he was actually walking with her again, and that he wasn't being driven away.

Imelda stole a glance back at him, and his heart leapt until she quickly looked away. Right, he shouldn't get his hopes up. Part of him wanted to believe that she might be a little shy, or perhaps trying to hide her own feelings, but he didn't want to get his hopes dashed again, as they had been so many times in the past.

"There's a tienda de ropa a few blocks from here," she said quickly as they carefully descended the steep path. "We can find a new outfit for you there."

Héctor nodded, looking down at his clothing... then frowned. The scarf had been a gift, and Cheech had loaned him the jacket... and he'd never be able to return it, he realized with a sudden jolt to his heart. Shaking himself, he swallowed the pain back down—he wasn't going to have a breakdown on the first time he got to be alone with his... with Imelda.

"On—on second thought," he said, and Imelda stopped, turning to face him. "I don't know that... that I would like to replace this, exactly."

"Why not?"

"I... I got these items from mi familia—uh!" He realized his mistake when Imelda's brows shot up in surprise, and quickly waved his hands. "Not like that! The people in Shantytown, you know? We're... we were like a big family." One hand fiddled with his scarf as he glanced away. "We were... you know, the ones who had no homes to visit, no way to cross." Again he found himself fidgeting, his right foot repeatedly pressing into his bad leg to ease some of the pain in it.

Imelda didn't answer him, her gaze turned down toward his feet instead, and her brow furrowed. "...You shouldn't have come if your leg hurts," she said, and resumed walking down the path.

"¿Qué?" He quickly straightened, as much as he was able at the moment, and followed. "Nah, it's fine! Don't worry, I've been walking like this for a long time." Only now did he realize how bad that sounded, but he tried to shrug it off with a laugh. "Heh, you should've seen how bad I was before I got the bandages."

"You shouldn't be walking on it."

"Pah, it's not so bad." Now the road was evening out, much to his relief. "I'm fine, really!"

She stopped again to look at him incredulously. "Really."

"Really! I mean, if I didn't feel fine, could I do..." He floundered for a moment, wondering what he could do to prove to her (or, well, pretend to her) that he was doing a lot better than he looked, before realizing that his foot was tapping. Glancing around, he noticed a nearby paper flower salesman who, somewhere in his stall, had a radio… playing a familiar song.

"Could I do this?" he asked, putting his arms behind his back as he allowed his feet to move to the rhythm of the song, in spite of the way his bad leg and his still-recovering energy levels protested.

"Héctor, what on earth are you..." Imelda faltered, looking down at his feet again before one of her own boots began to tap rhythmically against the ground.

His face broke into a grin. "See? You remember!"

But Imelda frowned, forcibly stilling her feet and crossing her arms, though Héctor could tell from the faint way her body swayed that she was itching to move. "No," she said, looking in the opposite direction of the radio. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Something within Héctor ached, and his own dancing slowed to a stop. "You... don't?"

But... of course. She'd been trying to forget for years now, hadn't she? To forget dancing, to forget music, to forget...

He swallowed back the tightness in his throat and forced a smile. "Well... I can remind you, then," he went on, and picked up the dance again.

"Héctor..." She gave him a tired look. "We didn't come here to dance, we came here to get work done."

"It can wait," he said, allowing himself to dance a little closer. "Try to think back to when we were younger."

"That was a long time ago."

"But you remember the plaza," he went on, circling around her. "I know you didn't move from Santa Cecilia."

"No," she admitted. "The family still lives in my old house... but we avoided the plaza and its music."

Her old house. It felt like an anchor was weighing in his rib cage, but he pressed on, circling her again. "But you didn't used to avoid the plaza. We went there together." Or... the three of them did, but that was one part he wouldn't mind if she forgot.

Imelda was quiet for a moment, staring down at the bone-shaped cobblestones below her... and her foot began to tap against them. "...Yes," she finally said. "You would play for tips most days, but sometimes... we would just go to dance."

Sunbeams poked through the clouds, and Héctor's smile grew a bit more genuine. "And do you remember how you used to dance?"

For a second, a look of fear crossed her face—not quite as terrified as she'd been when she found herself on the stage a few weeks ago, but certainly there. She'd needed a nudge then, which Miguel had been the one to provide... and since he wasn't here, Héctor could fill in that role himself.

"Close your eyes, Imelda, and listen."

A look of "this is foolish" crossed her face, but only briefly, and she shut her eyes. Héctor did the same, tuning out the other sounds of the streets as he focused on the music playing from the radio—focused on it until it wasn't the radio playing it, but a live band, playing their hearts out in Mariachi Plaza. The sun was bright and it was hot as could be and he could feel his back soaked with sweat, but he didn't care, because she was at his side, dancing right alongside him. He could still see her gaze fixed lovingly upon him, her braided hair tossed over her shoulder. It was slightly disheveled, some hair strands falling in loose curls around her ears and cheek. Her hands were lifting up her dress, showing her boots—not as expertly-crafted as the ones she wore later in life, but still lovely nonetheless.

And he spun with her, in time to the music, the both of them turning their heads just so they could spend half a second longer staring at each other.

Their steps in time, their breath in time, and surely even their heartbeats matching in tempo.

And a rather large something hurtling rapidly toward them—

Wait—

The dark-but-colorful streets of the Land of the Dead crashed into view, along with whatever was barreling in Héctor’s direction. A flurry of panic came over him, and before he could even yelp, he found himself leaping out of the way and into safety.

The something, it turned out, was a runaway bicycle, which had several-too-many skeletons piled on top of it. Shortly after, it crashed spectacularly into one of the nearby flower carts, destroying the bike and scattering the bones of some of the skeletons, but leaving them otherwise relatively unharmed.

Héctor breathed out a sigh; it was a good thing he'd jumped out of the way.

...Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Where had he jumped... to...?

Wiggling one foot, he realized he was definitely not on the ground. And, from what he could feel, he was probably being held... held by...

Slowly he turned his head to find that Imelda was giving him an equally surprised look.

"R—IGHT!" he squeaked, his feet scrambling for the ground as Imelda set him upright. "That was... close."

Fortunately Imelda didn't seem keen to comment on the fact that he'd literally leapt into her arms. Instead she cleared her throat, looking in the direction of the crashed bike. "Did those cyclists look... familiar to you?"

Héctor rubbed a knuckle against his goatee, following her gaze. "Now that you mention it..."

There, right by the cart they'd crashed into, were two identical skulls, one of which was suddenly hit by a fallen bike wheel.

Clicking her non-existent tongue, Imelda marched up to the two, Héctor limping behind. The twin skulls looked up in alarm as Imelda towered over them. "Did you two forget something, by chance?"

"Uhhh... sí," one replied.

"The brakes."

Héctor snorted in laughter, but covered his mouth when he realized Imelda seemed significantly less amused. Still, as he watched her march around the street, gathering up the scattered bones and systematically reassembling her brothers while ranting at them all the while... Héctor's mind drifted back to moments earlier, when there had been no bike crash, no market district, no radio.

There had only been dancing, and music.

It was gone now, and he was forced back into the reality of his broken skeletal form and the near century that had separated him from his wife.

But... that was okay.

Because in time, his bones would heal, and in time... they would gradually bring the music back that had brought them together, so many years ago.

[rymndsmth]

querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy! 

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling. 

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive. 

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend. 

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about. 

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed. 

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung  and his girlfriend). 

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller. 

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores. 

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place. 

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion. 

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned. 

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea. 

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot. 

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing. 

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition. 

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.  

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.  

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later. 

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood. 

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived. 

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history. 

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide. 

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen. 

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter. 

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons. 

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag. 

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush. 

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it. 

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest. 

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all. 

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued. 

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though. 

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips. 

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush. 

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her? 

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him. 

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors. 

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table. 

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you. 

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down. 

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished. 

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his. 

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow. 

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did. 

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin. 

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers. 

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes. 

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.  

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

julie and the phantoms week day five- favorite fanfic trope (Willex + coffee shop AU)

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I’m really obssesed with the idea of a willex coffee shop au (probably because i thought about barista!willie for like one second and fell instantly in love), so here’s my take on it! (Warning for cursing)

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@jatp-week

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This is all Luke’s fault, Alex thought as he stood in front of the prettiest boy he’d ever seen in his entire goddamn life- the boy he’d just spilled hot coffee all over. 

And it was! Kind of. Most of it was Alex’s fault for being a disaster of a human being, but for the sake of convenience, Alex chose to blame it on Luke. 

After all, if Luke hadn’t overslept, the job of getting everyone’s pre-rehearsal drinks would have fallen to him, not Alex. But Luke had overslept, probably due to staying up all night writing songs, and Alex had woken up to a frantic text from his best friend asking him to go to the coffee shop for him, since Alex lived much closer to Julie’s studio than Luke did and had plenty of time to get both coffee and to rehearsal on time. 

So Alex had found himself entering Hollywood Coffee, a nice place in the middle of Sunset Boulevard that he hadn’t actually been to before (again, getting drinks was usually Luke’s job). He didn’t pay much attention as he walked to the register, and as he waited in the short line, he pulled out his phone and opened his notes app, making sure he had everyone’s order written down properly. Alex had gotten much better with handling his anxiety, but everyday social interactions were still far from his favorite thing. 

Alex was just finishing going over the order in his head for what had to be the fifteenth time, because the last thing he wanted was to be on his phone the whole time he was talking to the barista- how rude would that be?!- when he heard the employee in question wish the person in front of Alex a nice day, and Alex stepped up to the counter, still not looking up as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“What can I get for you?” A friendly voice asked, and Alex finally looked up at the barista.

Fuck.

Alex wasn’t sure if he was breathing as he stared at the boy in front of him. He had tan skin and long dark hair that was pulled up into a messy bun, wispy strands of hair framing his face perfectly. He was wearing what appeared to be a tye dye crop top under his black apron. The shirt was loose and short-sleeved- which was very unfortunate for Alex, who had made the mistake of looking at the man’s arms and felt himself growing very red as he took in the impressive muscles. He scanned the apron, finding a name tag with ‘Willie’ scrawled across it. The apron also had a pin that read ‘He/They’ and a rainbow pin. 

The guy- Willie- made a small sound, something between a cough and a sigh, and Alex suddenly remembered he was supposed to be ordering drinks, not ogling the random cute boy. Alex’s head shot up, and he opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable to do so as he accidentally made eye contact with Willie. 

Alex had heard people been described as having “kind eyes” before, but he’d never understood what they meant by that until he looked at Willie. There really was no other way to describe the boy’s deep brown eyes. The sunlight streaming in the nearby window lit his eyes with a soft golden glow, and Alex could have easily kept staring into them forever, but Willie blinked and Alex was jolted out of his trance. 

“Uhh….” Alex started, but was still finding himself unable to talk. “Sorry, I… um… here.” Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, unlocking it quickly and shoving the still-open drink order into Willie’s face.

Well that wasn’t ideal. But hey, at least if Alex didn’t talk, he couldn’t embarrass himself any further. 

“Oh! Uh, do you mind if I…” Willie gestured to the phone. 

Alex stared at him blankly for a moment before replying, “Yeah! Yeah of course! Here!” Alex dropped the phone into Willie’s outstretched hand and stared down at the floor while Willie carefully read over his order. Alex frantically tapped a rhythm on his legs, trying to calm down the blush that had spread across his whole face. 

Willie placed the phone on the counter, and Alex quickly swept it up into his pocket. 

“Okay, your drinks will be ready soon!” Willie smiled at Alex and Alex felt himself go weak in the knees at the boy’s crooked grin. 

Alex just nodded. He probably should move from the counter, but he didn’t want to leave Coffee Shop Boy forever. 

Willie smiled at him again, nodding at his shirt. “Nice shirt.” Alex glanced down quickly to see what he was wearing. It was a really stupid shirt of Reggie’s- plain pink with a hot dog on it, god knows why- that had been left at his place. Why Alex was wearing it, he didn’t know. He had probably been tempted by fate to wear it today for the sole purpose of humiliating himself further in front of the cute barista. 

Alex just attempted to smile at Willie and hurried away from the register, hearing a faint “Have a nice day!” from the other boy as he left. 

Alex found a seat in the farthest corner of the coffee shop and… well he didn’t want to say that he buried his head in his hands, but also that’s exactly what he did. Why am I such a disaster! This is why I can’t get a boyfriend! He cursed his existence, wishing he was capable of seeing cute boys without obviously staring at them like a creep. 

Alex sat there like that for what couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but felt like much longer. He eventually took his head out of hands and decided that he’d rather get his anxiety out by pacing around the coffee shop as he waited for his drinks to be ready. 

Alex stood up, turned around, and promptly crashed into somebody, falling to the floor. He felt hot liquid splash against him and his head was ringing from the force of the collision. 

“Oh my god are you okay?” A worried voice asked from above him, and Alex felt hands on his arms as the person who had landed on top of him pulled themselves up. 

Alex opened his eyes and found Willie staring back at him. 

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit-

Willie stood fully, extending a hand to Alex to help him up. Alex took it on instinct, but immediately regretted doing so. His hands were sweaty and warm and sticky with coffee and oh god he’d really fucked up this time-

“I am so sorry.” Willie said once Alex was standing. “I realized that I didn’t get your name, so I figured I’d just bring your drinks to you, but I didn’t see you moving to get up… anyways, I’m really sorry.” 

Alex ran his hand through his hair, blushing madly at Willie talking to him in such a genuine way. “It’s okay. It’s my fault.” 

“No, no, it’s not! Here, let me make you new drinks.” Willie turned to go back behind the counter but Alex reached out and grabbed his arm- shocking both Willie and himself. 

“Don’t bother.” Alex said, dropping Willie’s arm as quickly as he’d grabbed it. “I have to go,” Willie looked at him curiously. “Band practice.” Alex explained. 

“Oh, nice!” Willie responded. “But are you sure you don’t want me to get you something? I can just whip up those drinks again really quick.” 

“I’m sure,” Alex answered. “I’m already running late.” It was true, and there was nothing worse than being late to a rehearsal with Julie Molina (if looks could kill…). 

“Okay… well, if you’re sure. But I have to find a way to repay you. Like, actually I do, or I’ll get in trouble with my boss. And believe me, being in trouble with my boss would be bad.” Willie shuddered in a way that filled Alex with a surprising amount of anger towards this unnamed boss. 

“I can come back after practice? Maybe I’ll buy something then.” Alex suggested. The more he talked to Willie, the less embarrassed he felt and found himself just enjoying being in the company of the other boy. 

Willie nodded, seeming to contemplate carefully what he was going to say next. “Let me pay you back in another way though. I’ve got to make up for ruining your shirt.” 

Alex was about to point out that it wasn’t actually his shirt, and also that Willie’s clothes were equally soaked, but Willie wasn’t done talking.  

“I’ll pay for your drinks. I don’t mind paying out of my own pocket. But let me take you out for coffee- somewhere else, though.” Willie laughed. “I’m kinda sick of the drinks here.” 

Holy shit. 

Was Willie… asking him out? 

Even after he blatantly checked him out, was so awkward that he couldn’t even talk to him, and collided with him and got coffee all over him? 

Well, Alex wasn’t going to be the one to complain. 

“Yes. Please. I would like that.” Alex hurriedly responded, furiously blushing and hoping his eagerness wasn’t too obvious. 

Willie smiled, and goddamn, if Alex thought that first smile was captivating. This one was clearly different from Willie’s customer service smile, wider and much more genuine, and Alex would have fainted from it had he not become completely numb to how hot Willie was from the events of the past twenty minutes. 

“Cool. I’ll meet you at Sunset Brew after my shift?” Willie asked, referencing another coffee shop a few blocks down. 

Alex just nodded, smiling shyly. 

“See ya there, Hotdog.” Willie bumped Alex’s shoulder and began to walk back to the counter. 

It took Alex’s brain a few seconds to process the nickname, but then he cried out, “Wait!” 

Willie stopped walking and looked expectantly at Alex. 

“Uh… I didn’t get your number?” Alex rubbed the back of his neck. Although Willie had told him a place to meet up, Alex still wanted to get the boy’s number. In case any number of things went wrong, he still wanted to be able to talk to him again. 

Willie just winked. “Check your phone.” 

He disappeared behind the counter, and Alex pulled out his phone, confused. He found it still open to the notes app, and at the bottom of the list of drinks, Alex found text that hadn’t been there before, along with a phone number. 

Call me ;)

Alex smiled as he left the coffee shop, trying his hardest to not freak out and scream right there on the street- his freaking out could wait until he was with his friends. 

He’d have to thank Luke for oversleeping. 

[pitaparka]

lazy river

request: hell yeah prompt list time! kissing john b in the rain for love and longing? love your content btw summary: it’s been a long time since you’ve been to a water park. jon b knows this, and wants to change that.

pairings: john b. x reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: super fluffy. real cute. might rot your teeth.

a/n: requests still open! i got an AP exam this week. i also have to finish a create task i’ve had weeks to work on and haven’t, so... wish me luck. big love! 

It’s just how you remember it as a child; all funnel cakes and water slides and screaming children and too hot pavement. Exactly where you want to be when summer's in full swing. 

Probably the best unofficial date you’ve ever been on.

You don’t know how much money John B. had to save up in order to get you there, but the topping on the cake was his ability to score a free bus ride to and from going with a small church group. You'd never known him to be religious, but it was an eventful ride for the two of you. John B. was playing the role of full blown Christian boy, and it was so hard to hide your smiles and giggles that everyone must've thought you were his even more Christian friend. K-love plagued the speakers, and you and John B. agreed some of it wasn't bad, but most of the kids were insufferably nice, to a point where it was almost disingenuous. Standing in line with them was a pain, but as soon as you were able to, you two booked it off to the umbrellas, searching desperately for two lounge chairs. Maybe even one at this point. Anything really, until you found a small bunch of chairs left secluded by a family whose child was not having a good time. It was a perfect spot right under the umbrella allowing you to spread your towels out and leave the cooler by the chair. John B. was fast to attack the food in there; sandwiches, chips, fruits, cheese. You name it and JJ had gotten (stolen) it from somewhere for you two. “You’re gonna get sick,” you commented, as he scarfed down a sandwich. The smell of sunscreen plagues the area. You rubbed some onto your face. John B. had miraculously thought of everything except spray on sunscreen, so you were forced to either buy some from the gift shop at a ridiculously inflated price, or use the lotion. “Sick shmick. Do you want to go on some rides?” He says, wiping his dirty hands down on his towel. The towel that was supposed to wipe down his wet body. You grimaced, but then he slipped his shirt off and shimmied off his flip flops. He was so well toned and tan already. You can’t imagine him wanting to get any tanner. “Yes I do, actually. Can you get my back first?” You say, and wonder if John B. actually forgot the spray on sunscreen or opted for the lotion instead for this reason. His hands were firm on your shoulders as he applied the sunscreen, rubbing the taut muscle there and going dangerously low down your back. It sends a shiver down your spine and he can so obviously tell because he does it again to gauge your reaction. He ruins it though, by sending you off with a buddy pat on your shoulders. “Let’s do pirates plunge first,” he said, and it made you smile how excited he got. You wondered how long it’s been for him too. “No,” you argue, “we have to work our way up to that.” "Do NOT tell me you're planning on staying in the lazy river the whole time," he said, turning to where the middle aged adults who obliged their children lounged, floating leisurely under bridges and waterfalls. It made him shiver. "It's a great place to tan," you teased, and he glared at you. You smiled, and  stretched upward. "You want sunscreen?" You ask, and he looks like he's about to say no, but he nods his head yes. His back is smooth under your hands, and you make sure to lather his shoulders up nicely. You hand him the bottle when you're finished, and he scoffed. "You only did half," he says. "You can do the rest," you assure, and he rolls his eyes, squirting a glob of cream onto his palm before smearing it over his chest. "This kind of half-assery won't be tolerated," he jokes, "I'm going to have to report you to the manager." "Oh please. You're the king of half-assery." He gasps as he rubs his palms down his face, leaving streaks of white there. "How dare you. You're fired." He claims, looking over to one of the smaller two-person slides. You lean over to him and rub in the white with your thumbs, cupping his face a little. He watches your face the whole time, which, you have to admit, is a little creepy. When you're done, you shove him for good measure, before taking off in the other direction. The sun beats down hot on your shoulders, and you two spend hours waiting in lines and talking and spending time together. You could see the burn on John B.'s face and expected you were going to feel the burn too later on that night. It was a blessing whenever clouds rolled through the sky, blocking out the sun for a brief period before she cleared them away. The rides were subpar, but you two didn't notice in the slightest, screaming and yelling at each other down the slides and in tubes. The two of you dodged children and concerned parents and other teenagers, bobbing and weaving in and out of lines. Dripping wet, bodies glistening in the hot sun, you two decided funnel cakes were in order. You stood in line as John B. toweled off by your seats, and he ducked under the belt to stand with you. It got him dirty looks, but he didn't notice. "When are the church kids leaving?" You pondered, stretching on your tip toes to look in front of John B., trying to catch a glimpse of any of them. "In like an hour," he says, glancing up at the big clock poised over the food shack. There was only one in the entire park, which must've been good for business. They were so hot when you got them that the powdered sugar on top was melting. But as you made your way back to your seats, you felt it. “Oh no,” you whine, the water droplets on your bare shoulder. You turn to look at John B., but his gaze is not with yours. His eyes are on the sky, the grey storm clouds rolling in above. You sigh loudly. It’s not like you’re afraid of getting wet. Of all the places to be when it rains, a water park ranks at least in the top ten. But now all the rides were going to be closed. For god knows how long. He looked back down at you, grinning, and then noted your crestfallen expression. He pouted. “Why the long face?” He said, grabbing your chin and shaking it. You jerked away from his grasp to sulk. “Our day is ruined,” you grumbled, walking down in the direction of your chairs, planted conveniently under one of the large umbrellas. He jogged to catch up to you, intertwining his hand with yours. He swings it back and forth childishly. If he could, he’d probably skip down the concrete path to your area. "We have to eat these anyway. It'll probably be done by then," he assured. Much to your dismay, it was not in fact done by then. "That bus is probably going to leave early now," you mused, checking the notification app they made all of you download before you left the bus. “No way. This day’s not over. It’s just getting started,” he said, plucking your phone from your grasp and burying it in the bag he had brought. He left the rest of the conversation to your imagination before he took off running, pulling you in tow. “Hey!” You cried out, but you couldn’t help the giggle rising out of your throat when he stumbled over his own bare feet a little. He hushed you as you caught up to him on the side of the lazy river. There was nobody in it. All the employees were at the front entrance of it, escorting people out. "Wanna do a river run?" He said, slipping down the ladder. Your eyes bulged. "They're gonna kick us out," you said, hopping in after him anyway. You two stood downstream, and waited for tubes. It only took a few seconds before John B. was passing you one, rain falling on his hair and chest. "Now it's cold," you complained, but John B. chastised you. "Stop being a baby. Hang on," he said, standing up for you to grab onto one of the handles of his tube. The lazy river in the rain was a lot more fun than a lazy river in the sunshine. It would only be a few minutes before you reached the front of the ride, where all the workers were stuck trying to collect the tubes. John B. was splashing water at you, and shaking your tube to get you to fall out. You return the favor by flipping him over near the waterfall. He came up sputtering, and in return tried to flip your tube as well, but you latched onto his neck. It was easy for him to support your weight in the water, and he grabbed your legs, wrapping them around his waist as the tubes got away from the two of you. They floated sadly down the river, under the waterfall by themselves. John B. chased them, hands supporting you, your arms wrapped around his neck. He moved slowly towards the waterfall, and threatened to throw you under it. You squealed and pushed yourself up against him as much as you could, cradling his head to your own. If you were going down, so was he. But he stopped just short. You pulled away just a bit, and he was looking at you, eyes intense, smile bright. Your heart skipped a beat and you swear you saw him move closer. You couldn't help but do the same. Until his lips were on yours, moving in sync with you, rain pelting your bodies. His hands were firm underneath you, and you knew he wouldn't let you fall. It had been so long since you realized you wanted to kiss him for the first time. You could settle for him kissing you. "I love you, you know that?" He remarked. You thought it was sweet, until he tossed you under the waterfall. You swear you could hear his laugh from under the water.

[neo-culture-mafia]

고통스러운 기억

previous chapter

나 재민 Na Jaemin

My whistling tones could be heard as I walked down the school's main hallway. I was so close to tracking down Mark and Y/n. I could basically envision them walking right beside me on the way to my smoke break. Yet, smoking was no longer an option. Only these sugar-free cherry lollipops that seemed never-ending.

I had their locations. It was so easy I'm surprised I didn't look there in the first place. They were in our old apartment. I was planning on going up there this weekend when some of the elites were on a mission.

"Jaemin. What are you doing?" Chenle bounced next to me. My lollipop was already out of my mouth when I turned towards him.

"Solving World Hunger." I deadpanned and put the sugar treat back in my mouth. "You have blue hair now. Blueberry Head." My eyebrow raised as my hands slipped into my pockets. "Oh, thats cool by the way. You can buy me lunch anytime you want. Guess what?" I began walking but he decided to follow me and spill all his thoughts he had in that big head of his. We got next to the auditorium on the other side of the building before I stopped him.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" I abruptly stopped and he almost ran into me but caught himself quite quickly. "Oh. Yeah. Jeno said that if anyone questioned me to just say I was in his class. That's what he said I could do if I got out of his class and stopped bothering him." I wanted to laugh in the younger boy's face but knew that this opportunity was just too good to pass up.

"Lele. You do realize that I'm a teacher too...right?" I asked and it took a moment. I could see the realization appear on his face.

"Oh yeah. Uh-" Footsteps were heard behind me so I whipped around quickly to see nobody there. "What the hell?" I turned back to see that I was by myself. I was more spooked that he actually pulled that off. That hasn't been achievable since we were kids. Classic escape trick.

"That melon head." I sneered and began walking down the hall towards where I thought I heard the footsteps.

I passed the memorial and saw Hyuck's face. A swell of pride set in my chest as I leaned on the wall next to the glass. "I'm about to do some cool shit that I would've rubbed in your face." I chuckled. My back rested against the wall as I kicked my leg up on the wall. "Don't mean to brag. But I'm about to track down and reunite the whole family." I couldn't control the want and need to pop my color and act like the true badass I was.

I sighed, "I know. No need to thank me. Just doing what I do best-" "I wasn't thanking you though." I jumped to see the King Head himself reappeared with banana milk in hand. I got up ready to slap him when he smiled. "You need to stop sneaking up on people. And- appearing and disappearing whenever you please." I fixed my collar.

"Jae. I was with you all along. I didn't disappear." His thoughts got in my head as he innocently drank his flavored milk. "You looked down and around," Chenle's face got eerily close to mine, "But when you were in doubt-- you didn’t look up." His eyes flickered towards the ceiling as I followed his gaze.

Nothing.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean-" Yet, when I looked back down to eye level, I was alone.

I turned around back towards the case and literally ran into the young Chinese boy. "Stop doing that!" I seethed and but down on my lollipop.

His laughter could be heard as I started storming away down the hall.

"Wait for me!"

~~~~

The apartment never looked so tempting as it did right now, even from the 7-11 parking lot across the street. The aura coming from that nasty apartment building seemed so inviting to just go up and knock. Yet, my ass stayed on my motorcycle.

The coordinates scribbled down on paper lead me right to where home actually laid. "Oh my god, Jae. Don't be such a pussy." I groaned at myself and turned my bike off. I put the key in my pocket and put my kickstand down.

I started walking off the lot and my stomach was dropping into my feet. "Go back. Go back." My feet didn't listen as I approached closer and closer. "Please just go back," I begged my body. My body was ready to see them but I knew my heart wasn't.

I scaled the familiar steps and the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the old familiar door I had shut only 7 and a half months ago. My hand came up to knock on the door. My body just couldn't come down and make my presence known to them. 

What the hell do I say? 'yeah, you can come back now.' ?? Of course, I couldn't say that.

I turned around and reached for my cherry sucker. There was none left. "Dammit." My hands needed to be doing something. I spotted the 7-11 and knew that I would be only a couple minutes.

I turned towards the door and pointed, "I'll be back. We're not finished here." I was off down the steps and to the 7-11. It still smelled the same raunchy aroma that I still smell sometimes when I'm alone in my bed at 2 am. The stench was so distinct that my nostrils couldn't let go of it.

I went to the candy section and grabbed a big pack of suckers. I went to the front and laid down a $5. I walked out not in the mood for the excess human interaction.

I walked back to my bike and set the larger lollipop bag in my backpack as I shoved a handful into my coat pocket. 

You got this, Jae. Just go up and hug them or tell them that you’re here again. Take them out for dinner or something.

I stood by my bike and was staring at the door that was still visible. I was trying to open it with my mind and have them come to me. I just didn't want to fear the rejection I knew I would face from Mark.

I just want to hug them and know that they're okay.

I want to know that they're not mad at me. That they're proud of me or something.

I nearly fell over when the door actually opened and two people exited. They were both in hoodies and looked sickly pale. They came down the steps and I could see that it was them. They didn't look the happiest but their smiles still shone the brightest.

I realized that they were coming straight towards the 7-11 and got too scared to face them. I turned my back towards them and pretended I needed something out of my bag. I was expecting a hug or something at least. Yet, they walked past me as if I wasn't even there.

I'm not mad. I knew that they weren't supposed to be looking for me or expecting to see me here. I knew that they didn't know I changed my hair from the pale pink to a soft blue. It wasn't their fault.

I watched them through the tinted lens of my glasses as they picked out small items to eat. Nothing sustainable.

They walked out with smiles and a meal that would make me groan out of dissatisfaction. I knew what I could do.

I watched them as they went back to the apartment and shut themselves in like hermits.

I threw my head to the sky and sighed. "Hyuck if this is you doing this, I swear that once I get up there I am going to beat your ass." I took my wallet. "I can't go back to jail, dude. I told you this, already." I whined as I walked back into the convenience store. I searched the aisles and went to the counter once I saw that it was clear.

"Those two people who just walked in," I pointed to where the apartment was as anyone could see it from the front of the store. "How often do they come in here?" I asked and the clerk just looked taken aback. "Every day, why?" I opened my wallet and started rummaging.

"What do they usually get?" My questions went unanswered for a moment longer than I was pleased with. "Usually just a plain kimbap and water to share?" The young boy seemed a little freaked out. "This is what you're going to do for me..." I looked at his name tag. "Jeongin." I looked him in the eyes and brought the wad of cash into our viewpoints.

"This is ₩1,000,000. You will put this on a gift card and the next time they come in they are going to," I took a deep breath, thinking of a word that didn't sound...demeaning. "Win. They are going to 'win' this gift card." I smiled and he was still frozen in his position. "But I'm not authorized to do tha-" "Then authorize yourself...and do it." I pushed the money towards him and he took it hesitantly.

He grabbed a gift card from behind the counter and gave me a piece of paper. "You need to sign this paper in order for me to give this to them when they receive the card." I noticed the boy was scared as his eyes wouldn't meet mine.

"Jeongin." I sighed as a light chuckle escaped my mouth, "Tell me, do you have older or younger siblings?" I asked and he visually gulped. "Well, yes. Yes, I do. Older and younger." He nodded. I smiled and pushed the money forward along with the form. "Well, they are my family. But, they cannot know that I'm doing this for them." I tried to appeal to his emotions but it was blocked.

"But-" "Jeongin you have 1 minute to put the money on the damn card and get this form out of my face before I light this place on fire." The lollipop I had bought from him not even 10 minutes ago hung from my lips.

He scrambled the form into the trash and started putting the money on the card. "Would you like to give a name?" He asked and I only slowly cocked my head to the side. Did he really not listen to what I was saying?

"Oh, yeah." He pressed more buttons and a receipt popped out. "You can call this number and see when and what they spent it on if you need to." He circled a phone number at the bottom of the paper and I smiled. "You caught on so quickly." I laughed and he could only chuckle in fear. My glasses fell to the tip of my nose as I shoved the receipt into my wallet.

"You give this to them and I won't come back. I find out this doesn't go to the boy or girl, I'll know who's skin I'll use as a doormat." I looked into his fox-like eyes and winked. He nodded quickly and put the card into his uniform pocket.

"I was never here," I called as I walked out the door and to my bike.

I wouldn't get to see them today.

You’re not going to intrude on their dinner! That is rude! Plus, you need to go to the tunnel door.

My mental to-do list checked itself off as I started the trek to the tunnels. Where I lost one of the most important people to me. I would go, pay my respects, and go to see the door myself.

The night was beautiful. The sun was golden and I knew that Hyuck was somewhere around here shining down on us all.

~~~~~

By the time I got to the tunnel opening, it was much darker. I propped my bike at the entrance of our tunnel and sat at the opening of the concrete jungle.

I played with some of the rocks nearby as I tried to break down my emotions.

"I'm sorry it ended like this." I spoke into the end. "But, I promise that you don't need to worry. No matter where you are, I am trying my best to get us back to where we were."

I sniffled my tears up and threw my head to the sky. "I love and miss you, dude."

I stood up and brushed all the dust off of my pants. I started to walk into the tunnel towards where our door is. I was looking for anything really. A sign of life or struggle. Just to reaffirm reality. That Hyuck was gone and he wasn't struggling. We all knew he was. There was a hope that I would make it to our door and see Hyuck there: Long hair and beard as he had survived and gone back to a simpler and caveman-like way of life.

Yet, I was met with the cold reality of the fact. No one was at the end of the tunnel. A shoe laid on the ground in the corner next to the door. It wasn't Hyuck's but it was y/n's. I knew she was okay but it still made a cry erupt from my chest.

I sat down on the dusty ground and held the shoe to my body. Nobody was going to touch it but me.

If only you would've gone back and not listened to Mark, Jae. Maybe, Hyuck would still be here and you would've gotten to Busan on time. Maybe, if you would've worked out more you could've carried y/n faster and she would be in the family again. God Jae, you're so stupid.

I held the shoe tighter as my tears fell and my head rested against the cement wall. "I'm so sorry."

"If you were to bring them back alive. Then I suppose they can be sworn in once more." Taeyong was not happy with the situation at all. He fucked it up himself and now it felt like he was paying for it. Jeno's eyes filled with tears quickly as I could only freeze in pure ecstasy. "We won't mess this up." Jeno bowed deeply to Taeyong and so did I. They were going to be coming home.

"Let's go." Jeno ushered me out of the office as he shut the big door behind him. We only stared at each other for a couple of seconds before wrapping each other up in the tightest hug we could manage. "Come on. I already have some ideas of where they could be!" Jeno pulled me down the hall and to the tech room where Renjun and Chenle were currently running Mark's and Y/n's chips through testing. They were still alive but there was no clear signal.

Hours went by and more and more people were losing motivation for the day. After the last person went to bed, I was the last person in the room. They were close. I could feel it. I wasn't going to rest until I knew exactly where, though.

Anger bubbled inside of my chest as I unwillingly screamed and threw the deteriorating shoe at the wall in front of me. My body felt as if it was a soda bottle that was being shaken up. I was about to explode on pure anger alone.

I got up and started punching and kicking the walls. "Why couldn't you just open?!" I screamed as I pulled on the locks and handles of the door as much as I could. "You stupid fucking-" bang bang bang bang

I looked around and grabbed a rusted iron pipe that laid on the floor. I took all my anger out just beating this door. I imagined the door as everything that has wronged me in life. This life wasn't fair but it was okay.

It will all be okay eventually

"No. It won't!" I screamed and something on the door broke. A latch fell inside the door and I threw the rusted pipe down. I pulled on the door as much as I could and it finally gave way and opened.

Our secret bunker was revealed where money coated the walls. "Why couldn't you have broken back then?" I looked to the door and kicked it one last time.

I walked in and was automatically taken back to my childhood. Scary but fun.

I grabbed the doll that rested on the coffee table.

"Give it back you acorn!" I held y/n's doll above her head and ran around the bunker as she chased me. I stopped quickly as she ran into me and we both fell to the ground. "Get off of me! You have cooties!" I yelled and tried pushing her off of me.

"Then give me the doll back!" She yelled but I continued to play 'keep-away'. "No. And don't cry about it." As if I had flipped the switch to the lakes behind her eyes, she started crying. Everyone around the small house tuned into the situation. "Give me the doll back or I'm gonna kiss you and-and you're going to have cooties." she threatened and I thought she would never do it.

"Never." I got up and started running around more. Renjun put his leg out and tripped me so I fell face-first into the carpet. I watched in slow motion as y/n leaned down and laid a sloppy kiss on my cheek. My 10-year-old mind thought I was dying as I released her doll and began to wipe the drool off of me.

"Thank you!" She cheered as she grabbed her doll and sat next to Mark and Jeno.

I groaned as I rolled over and made eye contact with Renjun. "Do that again and-" "and what?" Renjun threatened. He raised a fist and I saw red. I lept off the ground and tackled Renjun to the floor. For being a scrawny kid, he was strong.

We both laid some punches on each other's faces before being pulled apart by the older elites. "Tell me why babysitting kids was a good idea?" Johnny asked Taeyong as Johnny's teenage arms wrapped around my wiggly body.

"They'll grow up to love each other. We just have to stick to it." Taeyong said pushing Renjun over and sitting on him so he couldn't move.

"True. Very true, Taeyong." I chuckled as I set the doll back down and sat on the couch.

"You can't be serious." I laughed as Donghyuck nodded. "It's from America. I found it in Johnny's bedroom. He called it 'gush'?" He held up the small bag more to the light. It was night time and we both snuck out. It was a couple days after my 16th birthday. It was cold that night but the bunker was so warm.

"...Do you eat it?" I asked and he only shrugged. "I heard Jaehyun say, 'smoke'. But, I don't know what to use." He confessed. "I saw the papers he was talking about using. They were like," he thought for a moment and got up, walking to the bookcase on the other side of the room. He immediately grabbed the Bible and opened it to start feeling the paper between his fingers. "Basically the same." I could hear him whisper and before I could ask what he was doing, he ripped a handful of pages out.

He came back over and took the bag and throwing it on the floor. He stepped on it till the little green rocks were broken up. I watched as he skillfully folded the paper and dumped the remnants of the small clear bag onto the thin pages. He rolled it up and grabbed a lighter from the near-by table. He wasted no time in putting the roll to his mouth and lighting one end while he took a deep breath in.

Violent coughing was followed by my uncontrollable laughter. I grabbed it and it automatically felt like a cigarette. I lit the one end and inhaled. It burned different than a cigarette but it felt nice. It automatically lifted a weight off of my head. I sat back and blew rings into the air surrounding us.

We took turns until all that was left was the mouth-piece. I threw it onto the glass coffee table and just leaned back. "Oh, that feels amazing." Hyuck sighed as he curled into a ball in the crevice of the couch. I watched Hyuck as he continued to apologize to the bible and his ancestors for doing drugs.

I spent the next 4 hours high off my ass. It was magical and we were back at the house before breakfast even started.

"You smell like ass." Y/n said as soon as we walked into the house. She was walking down the main marble staircase while most people were in the kitchen or the living room still waking up with cartoons. "Shut the fuck up," I whisper yelled and she was just taken aback. Hyuck went over to put his finger in front of her lips. "Shut it." He said and walked past her and up the stairs.

"I don't care what you did but just go take a shower. It smells like you fucked a skunk." She pushed Hyuck away from her and tried to make a right into the living room but I took her and wrapped her in my arms. "Ew, you smell even worse!" She screeched and I was still buzzed so I thought it was hilarious. Johnny and Jaehyun however, did not find this funny.

She pushed me away and I turned to go up the stairs when I ran into Johnny and Jaehyun...literally. "You're zooted." I heard Johnny sigh and was super confused. "Is breakfast done I'm so hungry." I groaned as I tried to break through the wall of older boys.

"Nope. Go take a cold shower." Jaehyun pointed up the stairs. "Jaemin. Don't tell Johnny I took his gush." Hyuck stood at the top of the stairs, peeking out from behind the corner, his finger over his lips. His voice echoed off the marble walls and stairs.

I held a thumbs up as Johnny's mouth dropped. "You took mine? And it's called kush you dumbass. I'm gonna beat both of your asses once you come down." Johnny grabbed the back of my collar and started to pull me up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, Mark came out of his room.

Fear rushed into my head and all of a sudden, I wasn't drifting to reality, I was falling very hard. "Oh, Mark!" Johnny greeted over-enthusiastically. "I'm so glad you're here!" Jaehyun called from the middle of the stairs. "We found out where these two numb-nuts were." I looked up to Johnny and put a finger to my mouth. "It's a secret. Sssshhh." I said but Johnny wasn't in the mood.

"They were out smoking weed." Mark's eyes widened as walked closer. "Oh, yeah? Where's the other one?" Mark's arms were crossed over his chest. "Ran off to his room." Johnny spilled everything. "Alright, thank you. I'll take care of it." Mark said and Johnny released my collar.

I tried to fake Mark out and run the other way but stumbled on my own two feet.

He gripped the back of my collar and pulled me all the way to Hyuck's room. Hyuck was still trying to take his pants off from the night before. "I'm cHanGInG!" He groaned as he fought with his own legs.

"And you're doing it while high." Mark said and Hyuck almost looked like he was offended. "How dare you accuse me of partaking in such a devious act," Hyuck said trying to stand up but fell over his pant leg. I tried falling to the floor in laughter as Hyuck was already wheezing from the humor. Mark didn't find it funny though.

We were both thrown in a cold shower and forced to drink plain hot coffee. We hit reality very quickly once we got out and were met with our workout clothes. "5Km before breakfast," Mark said and walked out of the bathroom.

We didn't get caught high anymore after that.

I looked at the armory and saw my old gun. The red paint and ropes tied around the butt of the heavy metal. I saw the date written on the slide. 2018.28.09. I could only sigh as my head fell back on the couch.

I was high once again. Life was getting harder and the light was getting dim. I had said my goodbyes and I had given my most prized possessions away. My conscious was clean. I was leaving with no unfinished business.

I sat in my favorite spot in the bunker. Where I sat to get high more than once with Donghyuck. My spot on Family movie night even though I would have to arm wrestle or actually wrestle Renjun or Y/N for it.

I don't think they'd want this spot anymore.

Just me, my alcohol, and my gun. My last pack of cigarettes has dwindled to empty and so has my will to live.

'it was a long time coming and i'm sorry you had to find me like this~' was written on the note that laid next to me. The thick envelope held my goodbye letter to my family, my favorite people.

"Please let it be quick." I talked to anyone that might've been watching over me. I didn't want to suffer for any longer than I needed to.

I started to read my S.O.M. even though I wasn't on a mission. It seemed fitting as I had made living a chore. It really was a mission by this point.

My phone dinged and I could make out the name through the tears,

'Bunny: Let's go. I got you ice cream. It's sitting on the counter waiting for you! peach and strawberry!' A weep crackled through my chest. She was going to have to eat it by herself because I wasn't going to be coming home tonight.

My phone dinged once more, 'Bunny: Your favorite movie just uploaded to Netflix. Wanna watch it? I haven't seen it yet!' The guilt started growing in my chest but I wasn't going to drown in it.

I threw my phone down with a satisfying crack. I grabbed the gun and loaded it as fast as I could. The alcohol spilled and I couldn't get the bullet in the chamber. 'just let me have this one thing' I asked a higher being but nothing would budge. My own heartbeat drowned all other sounds out.

I didn't even hear the door open and Mark ask me if I was okay. I think he pieced what was trying to happen when he saw my tears and struggle. The envelope on the seat next to me confirmed the assumptions. He closed the door and walked over slowly.

He slowly put his hand on my shoulder. "Jae?" His voice was soft. I looked up through my tear-soaked eyelashes and saw his concerned look. I thought he was going to yell at me so I just gave up as the gun and round dropped onto the carpet below.

I covered my face with my hand as he cleared the spot next to me. "Hey, buddy." He rubbed my back. "It's okay." I was waiting for him to blow up. "Just do it already." I snapped and he chuckled, "Do what?" I looked at him once more. "Scream. Yell. Tell me how stupid I am for wanting to die." I sighed. "Why do you think I would yell at you for something like this?" He was so comforting it just made me more scared.

"Because. You-you guys always say that it-t it's not the right way to go. Only cowards do this-is kinda stuff." I mimicked his words and I thought I could hear his heartbreak. "And you're right." I nodded and he only shook his head. "We didn't know you struggling, Jae." His voice hitched at the end.

"It's hurt for so long, man." I chuckled sitting back on the couch.

Mark leaned down and grabbed the singular round and heavy metal weapon.

He put the round in his pocket and walked over to put the gun up on the armory wall. Mark walked back over and stood in front of me. He only raised his arms up. Some tears cut across his cheeks but I could tell he was trying his best to keep it together. I stood up and wrapped my arms around him. His hand came up to pat the back of my head. "I'm so proud of you, Jae." I lost it once more as I felt into a pit of guilt.

"You're so strong and if I would have known you were this hurt then I wouldn't have let you struggle for this long by yourself," Mark confessed, "I promise." My sobs sliced the air in loud yet healing breaths.

"I'm so sorry." I sobbed into my older brother's shoulder. "There is nothing to be sorry about." Mark shushed me. "I'm just glad I followed you when I did." He confessed.

"And I promise that we'll get you help." Mark was so forgiving.

I don't think he knows that I heard him cry himself to sleep that night.

No one else knew. Not even y/n who slowed me down. If it weren't for her-- Mark might've been too late to save me.

I sighed as I stood up and got ready to leave this memory-filled wonder house.

I turned off the lights and tried to close the door as much as I could, hoping no homeless man would try to open it. I walked through the tunnels to my bike that sat unscathed by any passers-by.

I hopped on and looked at the entrance one more time. "I promise."

The ride home was long yet I had just arrived in time for family dinner. I walked in as everyone sat down. "Jaemin! You're back!" Taeyong greeted and I could only smile. "Where were you?" Taeil asked and I had this unreadable grin. "I saw Mark and Y/N." The only one not excited by the news was Taeyong.

"Really? Did you speak to them?" Jisung nearly sprang out of his seat. "Not necessarily, bud." I laughed as I sat down in between Doyoung and Jeno. "They walked right past me though!" I said and Chenle laughed. "Sounds about right!" He hummed.

"Are they okay? Do they look healthy? What were they doing?" Renjun asked as he took a piece of meat into his mouth. I didn't have the heart to break it to them. The whole table was tuned into the news of everybody's no longer missing family members.

"They're...doing alright. They were going to the convenience store to buy some dinner." I nodded as I served myself food. "Are they back at the apartment?" Jeno questioned and I saw a look in Taeyong's eyes that made a shiver run down my spine.

"No. Not at the apartment." I shook my head as I counted the pieces of meat in my bowl. 5 pieces. Perfect.

"Well, we'll all be awaiting their return I suppose." Taeyong took a long sip of his hard liquor. "It's gonna be so nice having them back." Johnny smiled at everyone. "Kun said that the first night that he's coming back to cook. He's going to bring the whole team!" Renjun shared. "Yuta said he'll be flying in too!" Chenle cheered.

I side-eyed Taeyong and for a moment his venomous smile fell for a micro-expression to imprint into my mind. He looked dangerous, hateful, and over-all angry.

I pushed it aside and ate the first bite of food, "Sounds like a plan!"

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Dimmed Lights (Pt.3)

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

Roman couldn't seem to function for most of the day after his meet up with Janus and Virgil. His mind was racing with different explanations. Was it a hallucination? That cant have been real, they're soulmates, no way he'd want to kiss you of all people when he has Janus seemed to be a popular excuse.

Roman was never very good in school, he mixed numbers up and could never seem to get his head wrapped around certain concepts, but today, that was multiplied ten-fold.

"Mr. Prince-Duke is there something you'd like to share with the class?" the teacher stood at the front, ruler aloft in her hand, eyebrows raised. She was mocking him, he knew that, most teachers tended to pick on the Soulless.

"No ma'am," Roman said, folding his hands in front of him on the desk.

"Are you sure? You seem awfully distracted, have you found your soulmate yet? Your marks dont seem to be glowing," the teacher said, grinning. Roman had to stop himself from pulling a hoodie over the tattoos.

"No, I havent, and I have nothing to share, so I think it would be better to get back to class," Roman said, a slight edge to his voice. The teacher frowned and turned back to the board. Purposely, Roman was sure of it, she'd blocked him from being able to see the notes on the board until she'd erased them, so all he had to go off of was the tone change of the board.

Roman let out a sigh of relief at the bell, rushing out of class before the teacher could say anything else. Next class was lunch, and he'd just remembered where he was going to sit.

"Sorry I'm late- lunch lines are getting ridiculously long these days-" Roman said as he slid into the seat across from the boys.

"Its alright," Janus replied, running his fingers through Virgil's hair. Virgil, it seemed, had decided falling asleep was a superior option to eating.

Roman ran his fingers through his hair nervously, averting his eyes. "So uh- how are your classes?" He said quietly, biting his lip slightly.

"They're alright I suppose, I much prefer theatre though," Janus said. Roman sat up a little.

"You're in theatre?" He said excitedly.

"Of course! What better place is there for me than the stage? Is there anywhere as sophisticated?" Janus said, smirking.

"The day you classify as sophisticated is the day my pet spider stops escaping her enclosure," Virgil mumbled slightly. Roman laughed, but quickly snapped his mouth shut at the glare he received from Janus.

"Well then I suppose we'll find her safe at home in her cave when we arrive home," Janus said, he had a slight pout etched onto his face.

"Aaaaaaaawwwwwww, did I offend you?" Virgil said, burying his head in the crook of Janus' neck. Roman pulled his jacket tighter over himself, trying to be as discreet as possible.

"Roman? Is something bothering you?" Janus said, eyes darting from Roman's arm and chest to his face.

"Hm? Oh- nonono I'm perfectly fine," Roman said, even though it was blatantly obvious that he was lying through his teeth.

"Alright, I wont intrude, but if we're making you uncomfortable you can tell us alright? We wont get upset," Janus said, smiling. Roman felt like he might've melted on the spot from that smile. No one had looked at him like that before. Roman snapped himself back to reality before his thoughts could get to much to handle, Janus already had a soulmate, Roman had no markings, they werent supposed to think of each other like that. Roman began to shove as much food as he could fit into his mouth, hoping he wouldnt have to start up anymore conversations.

"I heard you were having trouble with classes, yes?" Janus continued.

Roman shifted a bit in his seat "Yeah, I'm uh- not very good with math," he said, conveniently skipping the part where teachers actively singled him out on questions he'd never been given before.

"I could tutor you," Janus said simply, Virgil gave him another sardonic look.

"You keep looking at me like that and I'm putting you on the fridge," Janus said out of the corner of his mouth, Virgil shrugged and busied himself with the zippers on his hoodie.

"It'd be pretty hopeless, I'm not exactly a big numbers guy yknow?" Roman said, fidgeting slightly.

"Well, if you think it might help you can always call me," Janus said.

Roman's heart sank when he heard the bell that signified the end of lunch. But picked up as he remembered that he and Janus shared a fourth period.

"I'll see you after school ok Virgil? And for the love of everything please don't try climbing anything you shouldnt be," Janus said as he stood up. Virgil pouted as he got up and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I didnt even get hurt that bad last time!" He said.

"Oh sure, because nearly breaking a leg is definitely considered mild outside of theatre," Janus replied sarcastically. He gave Virgil a small kiss on the forehead before walking off with Roman.

"So how long have you two been together anyways?" Roman asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Oh we've been together for ages," Janus said, smiling fondly.

"That sounds nice" Roman said, trying to keep the conversation on Janus and Virgil so nothing would circle back to him.

"It is, of course Virgil wears his hoodie all the time so it took me ages to figure out he was the reason mine was glowing all the time," Janus said. Roman laughed slightly, imaging the two passing each other in the hall every day with no clue that they were supposed to be soulmates.

"So do you have any favorite productions?" Janus asked.

"Well that's a bit of a difficult one, theres so many to chose from isnt there?" Roman said, grinning. He and Janus spent the rest of the day discussing productions, Janus seemed to know a lot more about the actors, whereas Roman was more focused on the composition of things like the music, and both of them spent a good chunk of time talking about costumes.

Roman was glad Virgil had decided to kiss him in that hall, and it may very well have been for more reasons than one.

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

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[the-blind-assassin-12]

Resol’nare - Part Eight

A/N: *posts this chapter and runs away before anyone realizes its a week late* oh... well that didn’t work. Anyway... sorry about last week y’all. I don’t know why an atheist married to a jewish man picked easter weekend to fall off the schedule but that’s life i suppose. we’re back! we are...back. 

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.* 

Summary: A trip to Corellia to offload their stolen speeders takes Navina and Firo through some of the shiftier parts of Coronet City before ending their trip with a visit to Firo’s family. Navina learns some shocking new information about her quest... and also misses something very important. 

Warnings: Ummmmmm i think this one’s fine actually.

Word Count: 4.3k

Corellia. 

Navina stuck close to Firo’s side as he expertly navigated the crowded streets of Coronet City. I hate it here. What remained of her armor after her encounter with the Mandalorian shifted in her bag as she walked, the pieces clanging together with each step. She noticed at least three pairs of eyes dart in her direction, the distinct metallic sound of beskar easily discernible to those who knew it’s exact value on the black market. Try it. Her grip tightened on the strap over her shoulder, her other hand casually hovering near the blaster on her thigh, conveniently concealed by her gray shawl. 

Lucky for them, the shifty looking Twi’lek and the two heavily tattooed Czerialan women he was with didn’t start any trouble, presumably keeping their eyes peeled for softer targets. And they’ll find them. With a population in the billions, Corellia had gained quite the reputation for being overrun with pickpockets, thieves, smugglers and desperate people willing to do desperate things. Which is why we’re here but…  She frowned, looking over at her friend. Next to her, Firo walked confidently, head held high and shoulders back, his stride deliberate and meaningful. I cannot believe he grew up here.  

Technically, Firo and his brother Leph had grown up in a smaller town just outside the city limits, their parents wanting them to have room to run and find the kind of trouble that wasn’t looking for them first. Between the Black Sun and the White Worms, the city was becoming less and less of a desirable place to raise children, both organizations known for recruiting their scrumrats young. Their parents both worked in the city, though, so staying close enough for a reasonable commute was necessary. Their mother, a brilliant woman, worked as a translator at the welcome center in Diadem Square, and their father had been a test pilot for one of the only Corellian shipyards that had been able to resist being converted into a TIE Fighter factory during the Empire’s reign. It was because of him that Firo had learned to fly. The man would occasionally take Firo and Leph up for a spin once he’d deemed the ships safe and in good working order. Leph had always been more interested in the engineering that powered them, eventually getting a job at the same facility, but Firo had fallen in love with flight from the first time he took off. 

Despite the fact that they had just turned the corner and crossed into Black Sun territory, Navina smiled to herself. She liked knowing things like that about Firo. Her own past wasn’t entirely without bright spots, but she found Firo’s anecdotes to be much warmer than most of her own. Aside from the memories she had of the few years she and her family were together on Yavin, her perception of what it was like to grow up in a domestic household had been built by her friend and his stories of having two parents and a bunk bed to share with his brother and a home that had a roof with four walls. She didn’t envy him, just enjoyed imagining what it might have been like to live that way. 

The buildings in that sector of the city rose higher than those just a few blocks over, their shadows darkening the street level enough that artificial lighting was necessary even during the day, and the warm feeling she got from wrapping herself in Firo’s stories left, taking her smile with it. There were fewer people bustling about, but that only made Navina grow more alert, more aware of the ones that were. Like him. In the corner of her vision she noticed a tall Duros man leaning in a darkened doorway, his deep red eyes following her footsteps, a casual smirk on his gaunt purple cheeks. She narrowed her eyes, upper lip curling from the way being watched made her feel.    

“Tell me again why we’re going this way instead of walking through the industrial sector?” Her grip tightened even further around the strap on her bag, until she could feel her fingernails digging into her palm. 

Firo flinched, clenching his teeth before sucking a breath through them as he slung his arm around her shoulder. Oh, here we go. “Well, it’s kind of a long story, Nav.” It always is. “Suffice it to say that one thing led to another and I may or may not have,” -so, you did  “made a bet that I had no business making, and I-” 

Navina groaned. “Firo, you have no business making any bets, ever. You’re terrible at Sabacc, and-”

“Hey!” He dropped his arm and shot her a defensive glare. “I’m not terrible at Sabacc… I just...need practice.” He blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair, the tips of his fingers disappearing into his unruly locks. “A lot of practice, and I’m not… ready for a rematch just yet.” 

Navina was still aware of the Duros lurking in the shadows, his long fingers lifting a lit cigarra to his lipless mouth. The end of it glowed to match the color of his eyes as he inhaled. He hadn’t moved to follow them though, simply shifting his weight as he allowed the smoke to swirl around his face. She felt his gaze on her back as they continued down the street, but she shook it off and turned back to Firo. “How much practice is a lot of practice?” 

Pausing at the corner as a line of land speeders barrelled through the intersection, he kicked the curb and inspected a loose thread at one of the seams in his gloves. “Um… ten or… eleven, something like that.” 

She nudged his boot with her own, eyes going wide. “Ten or eleven… thousand? Firo...are you telling me that you owe some card shark in this kriffing city eleven thousand credits?” The last three words came out in a hiss. 

The traffic signal flashed and they stepped off of the curb to cross. “Don’t worry, Nav, I’ve got it all figured out.” He waved a hand in front of him as they reached the opposite side of the street.

“Yeah,” Navina grumbled, “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Your plans are never any better than mine. She sighed. “How much more do you need to get them off your case?” 

Firo cocked his head to the side, doing some quick arithmetic. “After what we just made selling those speeders…” He trailed off. 

They had arranged a meeting with a buyer in a secluded hangar in Coronet spaceport before taking off from Nevarro. The individual was reluctant to give them their name, which wasn’t abnormal when it came to the type of transactions that they typically took part in. Usually they dealt with other smugglers and traders, people who wanted their name used as little as possible to avoid getting thrown in prison or hunted down and frozen in a cold slab of carbonite. 

This buyer though, had another reason to maintain their anonymity. Rumors and whispers of Imperial remnants gathering strength and support had prompted the reemergence of rebel cells across the galaxy, and those militias needed munitions and vehicles and other supplies that Firo and Navina were happy to procure for them as it served a dual purpose: filling their pockets, and taking tools away from the enemy to put them in the hands of the good guys. Only once had one of their rebel customers complained, trying to guilt them into dropping their price for the good of the cause. The good of the cause won’t put fuel in my ship, Navina had answered with a shrug, letting the would-be haggler know that they were free to try their luck elsewhere and that there was no shortage of buyers that would pay double what they were asking. It was a bluff, of course, but the customer had not only begrudgingly agreed, but had become one of their most frequent buyers. It was who they had sold the stolen bikes to for a total of eight thousand credits, four thousand for each of them. 

Firo finally finished his calculations as they turned another corner, the shadows lightening and the buildings becoming shorter again as they reached the perimeter of Black Sun territory. They were almost at the nearest mag-lev station, and Navina was eager to get on the train and out of the city. “Probably another three?” He shrugged. 

Another three. And then what? He goes back into debt to pay for food and fuel? No. “Firo,” she let out a long huff and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You have to pay these guys off before you leave Corellia.” 

Shooting him a sharp glance, she knew that he understood the subtext to what she was saying: take care of it before they come after you or your family. It had happened once before, not over gambling debt but over Leph clashing with one of the White Worm underlings when they tried to recruit the man’s daughter, Firo’s niece, for their organization. Leph had obviously refused, and when he couldn’t pay the gangster off, they had come after his family. Luckily, Navina and Firo had been making a trip back to Corellia at that time to see his mother, so they were there when the assassin had been sent. There was still a visible patch covering the round hole through the kitchen wall from where Navina had shot her blaster straight through it to eliminate the threat. But I can’t be there all the time and neither can you, Firo. 

“Yeah,” he let out the word in a rush of air. “I know.” He frowned and scratched his nose.  

As the mag-lev station came into view, Navina blew out another breath. “Okay. Sell the ship.” 

The train rumbled along the tracks and pulled up to the platform, the two of them picking up their pace so they would have time to hop on before it left again. “What?” Navina didn’t need to look up at him to know that his face was scrunched into a scoff. “Nav, that’s supposed to be you-”

“My ship, yeah, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “Sell it. Pay off the rest of the debt.” They climbed the few steps up to the platform, weaving through the crowd of passengers that had just gotten off of the train. A young boy, face smudged with dirt and grease, bumped Navina’s hip and crashed noisily into her bag. He apologized profusely and Navina waved him off, no harm done. 

“But you need that ship to get back to Nevarro, that’s why we-” 

Navina closed her eyes as she reached for the handle to step up onto the train. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she mumbled, words running together, “but I’ll…” she took a deep breath as though preparing herself for something truly unpleasant. “Dank farrik, I’ll take The Flare.” 

Firo gave her back an incredulous look as he grabbed the handle and climbed up behind her. “Nav, you flew The Flare here and you complained the entire time. You hate that ship.” 

“Yes, well that’s because it’s a rusted bucket of bolts and you know it, but if you sell the new ship- my ship- you can settle up and no one gets hurt… aside from my pride…” 

Firo’s mouth dropped open as the two of them dropped into one of the train’s window seats. “Navina-” 

She turned to cut him off as soon as her name was out of his mouth. “Okay, one, lose the full name nonsense. It’s weird coming from you. And two, don’t try to talk me out of it. Your family is my family, Firo, so your stupid debts are my stupid debts.” I have to teach him how to bluff better if he’s going to keep playing cards. Now, do I like flying The Flare? Not even a little bit. But that’s what I’m going to do...assuming it doesn’t spontaneously combust when I jump into hyperspace.” 

He knew better than to argue with her at this point. They’d both learned by now when they’d lost. Instead, he bumped her with his shoulder.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Harsa.” 

She bumped him back. “Yeah, that makes two of us, Ottabok.” The train let out a long, loud blast of it’s whistle to let passengers know that they only had a few more seconds to board. 

“Hey maybe your new Mando friend can help you out with some repairs for The Flare when you head back to Nevarro next week,” Firo suggested. 

Navina laughed. “Yeah, doubtful.” She had told Firo everything about her encounter with the man encased in beskar, from fighting the reptavians with him to the way they traded off answering questions to the Mandalorian’s reaction to her pendant and its mysterious purple glow. “He’s… intense. Doesn’t strike me as the type to just offer to help with repairs, and I’m not quite sure I’m ready to ask him for another favor.” But I hope he made some headway on the first one. She chewed her bottom lip and sent out another silent wish that the man would return to her with information on her father. Even if it’s just… She swallowed. At this point, even the knowledge that he was no longer alive would be something more concrete than the floating hope of finding him. She shook those thoughts from her head and shifted her bag into her lap to cross her arms over the top of it. “Anyway, that’s next week’s news.” Hopefully.  “Is Leph gonna be at your Mom’s tonight? I want him to take a look at this kriffing pauldron to see if he can tell me how to fix it where Mando decided to slice it from my shoulder.” 

Firo gave her a quizzical look and scratched his head. “He...what? I thought you said he didn’t take you prisoner?”  

Navina laughed again and shrugged, recalling the weight of the blade resting on her shoulder and the sound of his beskad carving through the thin durasteel plate. “I told you, he’s intense.” 

Firo sat quietly for a few seconds just staring at the seat in front of him before he spoke again. Spit it out, Firo. “Do you really think he’ll be able to help you find your family, Nav? Or…” He frowned. 

“Or what?” She turned in her seat and furrowed her brow. 

“Or are you… do you want to meet with him to find out about your father and…” he shook his head, his hair flopping around his ears. “Or is this still about the Darksaber?” 

There it is. Navina dropped her gaze to her lap and toyed with the end of her braid where it lay on her shoulder, the blue strands shining in the harsh overhead lighting of the train car. “Why can’t it be both?” She couldn’t lie to Firo, and she didn’t want to. He has to understand.  “Until that thing is destroyed, Mandalorian families will be. Families like mine, and…”

She didn’t finish nor did she need to. “Okay.” Firo nodded and smoothed his hair back before fixing the strap of his bandolier which had fallen into the crook of his arm, and didn’t say another word about the Darksaber or the Mandalorian or Navina’s plan to meet with him. 

Navina nodded, too, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Okay.” She didn’t know much about other people and their relationships, but she was fairly certain that her friendship with Firo was one of a kind. They weren’t afraid to speak their minds to one another. Certainly not.  But they respected each other’s decisions and always did whatever they could to help make sure that those decisions, whatever they may be, didn’t come back to hurt them. She knew that friends like Firo didn’t just drop out of the sky. 

The train began to pull out of the station and Navina switched the topic of conversation to the types of tools she was hoping that Leph would have on him to fix her armor with. Neither she nor Firo saw the dirty faced scrum rat that had collided with her on the platform speaking to the Duros that had been lurking in the shadows, the purple skinned bounty hunter slipping a few credits into the kid’s hand before shoving him away. 

-- -- -- -- -- 

Staying with the Ottaboks was always something to look forward to for Navina. As much as she disliked Corellia and its cities in particular, she loved Firo’s family and they adored her, so she never truly minded when their travels brought them to the crowded, corrupt planet. She knew that there was at least one place there that was worth visiting. Millea, Leph’s six year old daughter, launched herself at Navina from the top of the stoop the second the girl saw her and Firo heading up the drive, her father right behind to clap a large hand on his brother’s arm before leaning in to kiss Navina’s cheek and untangle his child from her limbs. Ma waited near the door like she always did, waving a dish towel before slinging it over her shoulder to reach for Firo’s face and tell him how skinny he was getting. Navina took several mental snapshots and stuck them in the box in her memory with Firo’s stories, and followed the family inside. 

After dinner, Ma finally content that everyone had eaten enough, Navina sat on the floor with Millea while Leph and Firo sat at the table with a couple bottles of ale, catching each other up on the past few months. Navina bit the inside of her cheek as she listened to her friend skate over all of the details that his family wouldn’t approve of, shooting Firo a smirk as he winked at her and took a swig of his drink. 

“Navi, do the song you taught me last time!” Millea suddenly plopped into her lap, her small hands bracing on Navina’s shoulders. 

She smiled as Ma continued to clean up the remains of dinner, packing leftovers in tins that would travel well for Navina’s journey back to Nevarro. “Which one, Mills? Three little loth-caths?”  

“Uh uh,” she answered, swinging her head from side to side so that the braid she’d begged Navina to put in her hair smacked her cheeks. “The other one.” 

“The other one?” Navina asked, still smiling at the girl but mind flashing back to the foundling that she sang the children’s rhyme to all those years ago. “You sure, Mills?” 

“Yeah, Gramma helped me practice it since you were here last time so I know it- all the words!” She beamed with pride, cheeks going round as she showed off a grin, a gap small gap between her two front teeth just like the one her uncle had.

Navina caught Ma’s eye again, and the woman wiped her hands on her pants with an apologetic look. Firo’s mother was fluent in many languages from a life-long career as a galactic translator, and while Mando’a wasn’t one of them, the woman knew enough about the pronunciation to help her granddaughter work on whatever she remembered from Navina’s last visit.  “Millea, don’t pester Nav now.” 

“No, no,” Navina shook her head. She knew that she hadn’t hid the way that her emotion flashed in her eyes from Firo’s mother. She knows me almost as well as he does.  “It’s fine, Ma.” She turned back to Millea and tapped her nose. “I’m impressed you remembered! It’s not an easy one. Alright, little one.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat as she used the same phrase she would have used with their little one, his enormous eyes watching her as she tried to teach him the Rhyme of the Resol’nare. He never followed along with the words himself, but he would clap his small hands and sway from side to side in a way that made Navina, even at 11 years old, think that he must’ve known what she was singing. “Let’s hear it.” Millea smiled again before launching into the rhyme, first in basic and then in Mando’a. 

Education and armor,

Self-defense, our tribe,

Our language and our leader—

All help us survive.

Ba'jur bal beskar'gam,

Ara'nov, aliit,

Mando'a bal Mand'alor—

An vencuyan mhi.

She stumbled more than a few times on the second iteration, but Navina helped her through it, finishing the last line with her. LIke it did since she last saw her father and the little one, the last line made her chest ache. Our leader… the Mand’alor. Wielder of the Darksaber. The sword I’m trying to- 

She pulled herself out of those thoughts though as Millea’s small arms wound around her neck in a giddy hug with Firo, Leph and Ma giving the girl a round of applause. Giving her a squeeze in return, she whispered “Good job, Mill’ika,” before Leph stood and announced that it was time for them to get back home. He offered Navina a few tools that she’s asked for from the kit in his speeder, reminding her of what he told her she’d need to do to repair her armor. And hopefully I’ll be able to use something here to open my pendant and see about that stone. Thanking him, she gave the man a hug and told them both that she hoped she’d see them soon. 

Firo walked them out, and the moment that the door shut behind them, Ma spoke. “I need to tell you something, Nav.” 

Navina took in the serious expression on the woman’s face and stood, immediately joining her at the table. “Sure,” she pulled out a chair and sunk into it, eyes still on the woman across from her. “Is everything alright?” 

“Oh,” she waved one hand, curling her wrist fluidly. “Oh, yes. No, nothing’s wrong, but I… I overheard something at work the other day that I think you should know.” 

What? She tilted her head. “What is it, Ma?” What could it… She didn’t look upset or worried or scared, simply… sincere.  

She took a short breath and let it out through her nose. “Well, I know about your… mission. For your family, and for, well… Firo’s told me things and so have you so, I know that you’re…” 

“Ma?” Navina reached across the table and placed her hand over the woman’s. “It’s okay, just tell me.” 

She nodded. “Alright, well, you know I’m only passable with Mando’a. Huttese, Rodian, even Dathomiri and I’m-” she blew air through her lips. Yeah, I know. “But a few weeks back? Maybe… five or six now, I… well I heard two women speaking Mando’a in Diadem Square.” What? Ma shook her head. “And aside from you, Nav, I have never known Mando’a to be spoken on Corellia. Not in public, anyway.” 

Navina hadn’t realized it, but she had leaned forward in her seat. “W-well, what… did they say?” 

Ma shook her head. “I really… I only caught a few words that I know, so I’m not entirely sure, but I heard ‘aliit’ and then ‘Mudhorn’, a few words I couldn’t decipher, and then...then one that I knew and another in Basic.” 

Navina’s eyes widened at the mention of the Mudhorn, the signet on the Mandalorian’s armor seeming to glow in her memory. “What words, Ma?” 

The woman sighed. “I heard the word ‘Mand’alor’,” Navina stiffened, “and then I heard one of them say ‘Darksaber’.” 

“What? Are...are you sure that’s what you heard?” Her heart pounded as the woman nodded. “Why are you telling me now?” Her eyes flicked to the door and she knew that Ma would understand her unasked question- why was she telling her while Firo was out of the room? 

“I know Firo worries about you, Navi. Dank farrik so do I. I never had a daughter and I never imagined I’d be lucky enough to have you in my life but I am so, so glad that I do. You’re a good, fierce friend, Navina Harsa, and that is a rare thing in this life.” She felt her chest tighten, sending the same sentiment silently back. I’m the lucky one, Ma. The woman narrowed her eyes. “But I know that you need to do things for yourself. So I wanted you to know this.” 

The door opened and Firo walked in, closing it behind him to make the world spin inside of Navina’s head. “Well I had to promise Mills that I’d pick her up from school tomorrow before she would agree to leave but-” 

The rest of his sentence was drowned out in her mind as she thought about what she’d just learned. The Mandalorian. Clan Mudhorn, the Darksaber… the Mand’alor. She’d be leaving for Nevarro in two days, but suddenly with all the new questions that just cropped up, that felt like two lifetimes. 

“Um,” she cleared her throat and pushed her chair back. “Um, I think I’m going to head upstairs and… and get cleaned up if that’s…” she trailed off questioningly and Ma assured her that it was fine, shushing Firo’s attempts to try to get Navina to have another ale with him first. 

Thanking Ma and smacking Firo on the arm, she grabbed her bag from the bench by the front door, dropping the tools that Leph had lent her into it, and shouldered it to head for the staircase. She hadn’t seen the small device that the scrum rat working with that Duros in Coronet City had slipped in there when he bumped her.

 It didn’t beep or blink, and it was small enough to become hidden in the fabric of the bag’s inner lining. And it was sending her location to its receiver, wherever- or more accurately, whoever that may be.     

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