#sorry prev this isn't directed at you

[enderlordisadumbusername]

as if being high nullifies any worth the piece had? like 1. things being done intentionally in a piece of art happens way more than middle schoolers would like to think and 2. even if something wasn't done on purpose that doesn't mean it's not still a part of the piece. like art isn't like a puzzle to be solved in order to figure out the artists "true intentions" nor is it just a bunch a bunch of arbitrary decisions the artist made just cus they're high or like blue or whatever the new meme is this week. if you don't like school that's literally fine and normal, but don't like blame it on the subjects you're learning about.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Wishlist. // DILF!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader MODERN AU //🎄 SPECIAL

WARNINGS: MDNI, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, lactation kink, breeding kink, fluff, dad!aemond and mom!reader, afab!reader, breast play, nipple play, slight teasing, + not proofread.

WC: 1.4k

« part one // part two »

A/N: your fav dilf and your children are back in town, tis the season to be jolly 🤭 I really wanted to bring this duo back haha, happy late Christmas, sorry for the await! This can also be read as stand alone but reading the prev two fics might help! // divider credits @cafekitsune

“Aenys! Daenys! Be careful, don't run around or you'll slip!” You yelled as you spotted Aenys and Daenys running around with decorations in their hand around the Christmas tree, trying to hang them up.

Daenys trips over the decoration and starts crying, you immediately put down Aelora, your third child down in her high rise chair before rushing over to Daenys and picking her up, patting her back as she clings onto you.

“Shh, there, it's fine, Mommy's got you okay? Don't run around next time.” You tell her and Aenys immediately rushed over to you, “Is she okay?” He asks and you nod, before leaning down and placing a kiss on his forehead.

This year's Christmas was more hectic than before, having a toddler and a kid running around to decorate the tree while managing your one year old isn't exactly easy.

But luckily for you, Aemond had just arrived from work.

“Papa!” Aenys runs over to his father immediately and Aemond picks him up before showering him with kisses, “How was your day Aenys?” He asked him and Aenys started babbling off until he mentioned how Daenys had fallen over just now.

Aemond, being the concerned father he is, immediately rushed to see you holding her in your arms, “You okay darling?” He asks her, holding Aenys up with one arm while caressing Daenys's hair with the other. She looks at her dad before she shifts her weight in his direction, indicating that she wants to be in his arms and Aemond immediately takes her from your arms, carrying both Aenys and Daenys on both of his sides.

You chuckle at how comedic it looks, Aemond was strong enough to carry them both which impressed you, “Aren't they heavy? They're both growing now.” You ask and he smiles and leans to press a kiss to your lips, “Yeah they are, but I want to cherish every moment I can carry them in my arms.” He tells you and you smile.

The evening was spent with giggles and warmth and soon it was time to put the kids to sleep, they kept on babbling about how excited they were to see Santa leave them presents and wondered what they'll get, rambling on how Santa hopefully knows what's on their wishlist and gets exactly them that, you chuckle as you tuck them to bed, placing kisses on their faces and moving to the living room.

You can finally relax, you immediately go into your shared bedroom with Aemond, who already seems to be there, “Aelora fell asleep already?” You ask and he nods, “She seemed very tired.” He tells you.

You sit next to Aemond on the bed, leaning against the headboard as Aemond works on his laptop, you lean your head on his shoulder, watching him work. “Have you gotten the presents for the kids?” You ask curiously and he hums, “Mhm, I can't wait to see their reactions in the morning.” He tells you and you giggle, “I'll place them under the tree at midnight.” You tell him your plan and he closes the laptop, finishing his work and puts it aside on the bedside desk. “What if they catch you?” He turns his full attention to you now, resting his hands on yours. “Oh you know they will not wake up until morning once they fall asleep, sometimes I worry that they're such heavy sleepers.” You tell him playfully and he lets out a small laugh. “Hopefully they like the presents.”

“Speaking of presents, I haven't gotten mine.” Aemond suddenly says and you smile at him, knowing exactly what he wants, “I've even written it down on the wishlist, it seems I was scammed.” He pouts and you chuckle, “Well, Santa can't give you a whole human can he?” You joke around.

When he was asked to put something he wants for Christmas on the wishlist, he wrote down your name on it, making you blush and scribble out that from it.

“Hmm.” He hums as he gazes into your eyes and you look at him back, he leans in slowly before connecting your lips together, they move in passion as the air fills up with tension and desperation, he pulls away breathing heavily.

No words are exchanged as you both hurriedly take off your clothes, and Aemond pins you flat against the bed, showering your face and neck with kisses before gripping your tits with his hand, pinching the nipple.

You gasp when you feel his warm tongue against the bud as he sucks on your breast, he feels your milk fill in his mouth as he swallows it down greedily and pulls away, “Fuck you're still producing milk?” He asks before switching to your other breast and showering it the same attention, “H-hm? Yeah, haven't weaned Aelora off yet.” you tell him and he leaves your breast with a pop, “Not complaining, I fucking love it.” He kisses your lips once again.

His hand caresses and travels further downwards your body to your cunt before dipping into your sweet wetness, “Fuck, you're so soaked, all for me yeah?” He whispers in your ear and you swallow thickly, goosebumps arising when you feel his hot breath near your ear, “Y-yes.” You answer.

His pinches your clit, making you gasp, before slowly rubbing small circles onto it, cause your breath to pick up and pulse begin to race at the arousal. His fingers dip in towards your entrance gently as he places kisses to your neck, “Look how it's engulfing me.” He comments as he watches his finger sink into you before he starts to move.

He curls his fingers before moving them in and out in a certain pattern, hitting your gspot multiple times already, making you wonder if he had its location memorised the way he can find it so easily.

Soon you reach your first orgasm of the night, biting your lip to not be too loud, suppressing your moans in an effort to not wake your baby next room. You should really make your room soundproof, you remember the days when Aemond clamped his hand over your mouth just to keep you from being too loud.

You whine subconsciously when you feel him pull his fingers out and move down, spreading your legs wide before grabbing your calves and placing your legs on his shoulder as he positions his cock against your entrance.

“Literally the best fucking present I could ask for.” He growls as he sinks his cock into your cunt, grunting in pleasure at the pleasure of your walls clamping down and gripping onto him.

He tries to take it slow at first, but it changes the moment you clench around him, unleashing all the frustration he held back and immediately set the pace at a faster rate, causing your body to jolt up and down the bed as you grip on to his hands which were currently holding your waist as in means hold in place securely.

You soon begin to see stars at the way he's moving, your mind spins, feeling the way his cock keeps hitting all the right spots, “Will you give me another?” He asks, panting and you look at him in a daze, “Hm?” You mumble, not understanding what he's asking for.

“Another child, another babe.” He tells you, “You'll let me impregnate you? Fill your womb up with my seed? I fucking love watching you swell with my child, knowing it was me who put it in you.” His words make you more aroused, the thought of having another child with him doesn't bother you and you greedily nod your head, your mind thinking of nothing else besides wanting to be filled up by your husband.

“Fuck—!” He finishes with a grunt, and slowly rides his orgasm out, hitting your sweet spot at the same time, causing you to finish as well.

He immediately plops down next to you and pulls you into his arms, placing kisses on your forehead as you both catch your breath.

“Best fucking Christmas ever.” He pants and you chuckle, “You said that last year too.” You tease and he lets out a loud laugh, “Well, it just gets better every year.” He replies back.

“Aren't we forgetting something?” You question, mind wandering off somewhere else, trying to remember what you were planning on, grabbing your phone and looking at the time, noticing how it said 1AM, you and Aemond look at each other before your eyes widen in realisation.

“Oh right! The presents!”

You both say in unison and rush putting on your clothes just to place the presents underneath the tree.

Needless to say, it was a great Christmas for everyone.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

[barefoothighlander]

call me little sunshine - iii

-summary: you come home for summer break to find a new man has moved in next door, he’s charming and mysterious so you welcome him to the neighbourhood

-simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

-warnings: mdni (18+), dark themes, smut, unprotected pinv, slight stalker!ghost, public sex, fingering, creampie, underwear as a gag, possessive!ghost, age gap

prev part masterlist

a/n: this part is short but it’s basically porn with plot anyways so

It had been four days since he left, he didn’t tell you where he was going, only that he’d be gone for a while. You didn’t want to know, whatever he was doing it didn’t concern you, you needed to distance yourself from him, his mere existence a stain on your conscious.

You found yourself dreaming of him, your body jolting awake from the too-familiar sensation of his touch, it scorched your skin. As if your thoughts weren’t already consumed by him, he had snuck his way into your sleeping mind, intent on invading the entirety of you.

The morning of the fourth day you woke up in a thin layer of sweat, the warmth outside doing little to settle your mental unrest. Sleeping was difficult, the only comfort you found was in his presence, his warmth holding you, keeping you safe. You wanted to call him, to reach out but every part of you fought against it, this perverse relationship that had taken over your life, it felt wrong, dirty.

You turn in your bed, arms reaching for your side table where the key to his house lay, mocking you as you stare at it, you could easily just go to his room, lay in his bed and let the scent of him wash over you, you could snoop around, try and figure out more about him, even if would hurt you.

The pinging of your phone breaks you from your thoughts, grabbing the device to read the message,

In town for the day, meet up? x

You let out a sigh at the message, a text from an old friend, Jake, you're relieved it isn't Simon. You think it over in your head, you hadn't seen Jake in a few months, going your separate ways after the semester ended, he was kind, considerate, everything Simon wasn't, you unlock your phone to message back.

Sounds good, does noon work?

Works perfect babe, see you then. x

It'd be nice to be around some new masculine energy you think, see an old friend, have a conversation about something other than sex, it'll be refreshing.

11:30 rolls around and you make your way into town, it's a short drive, only a few minutes but the streets are narrow meaning you'd have to walk a few blocks to the cafe you and Jake agreed upon. It's right beside a small bed and breakfast that he was staying at, his face lights up upon meeting your gaze.

"Been too long darling" He wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss on your cheek, you smile back at him, your hands settling on his shoulders.

"Missed you too Jake"

He directs you to a small table outside the cafe, pulling your chair out slightly to allow you to sit, moving to sit in front of you. He's a ball of energy, asking questions about your summer break, answering your questions about his travels, your chest warms with the sense of familiarity, you're comfortable around Jake, he doesn't make you nervous or scared.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't attracted to him, he was handsome, chin length curly brown hair, dark eyes, and the same gold medallion around his neck that he never took off, you rest your chin on your hand, watching him as he speaks, he's passionate about his travels, specific with his words.

"Do I have something on my face?" He smiles, you break from your trance, shaking your head as a blush rises to your cheeks,

"No, sorry, just got distracted" You laugh

"Well, what about you, any new guys in your life?"

You hitch your breath, the words striking a nerve,

"Nope"

"Not one? Seriously?"

You lie through your teeth, "Not one"

The rest of your conversation is mundane, he asks about school and your family, listening intently as you talk about your studies, you can't help the smile that persists on your face, he made you feel relaxed, he was predictable and calm, it was nice to spend time with someone who didn't make your entire body feel like it was being engulfed by flames, but the itch of him was still there, the way his fingers traced your skin, it was something you could never forget.

Trying to busy yourself after getting home you wind up tending to the garden in your backyard, kneeling in the dirt as you prune the leaves of a few bushes of flowers, oblivious to your surroundings including the heavy slam of a car door in the front yard.

"You look good like that, on your knees"

There's no mistaking his voice, his deep accent echoing in your bones as you turn to face him, he's invited himself onto your property, leaning against the small shed that sat in the corner of the yard as he eyes you.

"Good afternoon to you too"

"Who was that bloke you were with earlier?"

"What?"

"The boy that sat across from you at the cafe, who was he"

"Were you spying on me?"

"Answer the question"

You stand from your position, moving closer to him, his scent invading your senses, it was like no matter what you did, there would be something about him that commanded your attention.

"A friend"

"A boyfriend"

"Just a friend"

"Don't like the sound of that"

"You sound jealous" A small smirk on your lips

"Not jealous love"

"Then what?" You stand closer, taunting him, watching his eyes rake over your chest as his crossed arms tighten.

"Did he touch you"

"Maybe"

"Don't be a fuckin' brat"

"What if he did? Would you hurt him?"

"I'd fuckin kill em"

You huff a small laugh, staring up at him with rounded eyes, "You don't own me, Simon, I can fuck whoever I please"

That sets him off, he drops his arms, stepping forward and forcing your body back, invading your space until your back collides with the wall of the shed, his body trapping you. He leans down, his lips next to your ear, the hair on your neck standing on end in anticipation,

"You're being a little brat you know that" He whispers, turning his face so you can see his eyes, waiting for your response,

"Didn't realize" You whimper

His breath lingers over your skin, arousal dripping from your core in anticipation,

"Watch your mouth"

You let out a sigh as his hand connects with the skin of your thigh, tracing his fingers closer to your core, you elicit a moan as his hand cups your clothed sex, his fingers pinching over your soaked folds.

���So wet already, you need me don’t you, say it”

You turn your head to face him, your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you look at him, it’s been too long, and he feels so right.

“I need you”

“That’s my girl, only I can touch you”

“Only you”

He slips his fingers under the band of your panties, tugging them down your legs before closing his fingers around them.

“I’ve missed you my angel”

He teases his fingers through your folds, collecting your slick and spreading it around, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as your hands reach for him.

“Gotta be quiet, don’t wanna wake the neighbour’s”

His words mean nothing, all you can focus on is the way his digits work your pussy, teasing over all the right spots as you crumble before him, his large form pressing against you, keeping you pinned to the wall as his lips press against your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

“You’re not gonna cum, not until I stretch you out on my cock”

You clench around nothing, his words guiding your body, keeping you on a high that would have no end, not unless he said so.

He grabs your hand, placing it over his hardening cock, squeezing your smaller fingers around his length,

“Feel that, that’s what you do to me, hurts, you gonna fix it?” He mumbles against your skin, you nod lightly,

“Please, want to help”

“Knew you would baby”

He moves back, undoing his pants to let his cock spring free, your core aches at the sight, his tip red and dripping as you move your hands to it.

His fingers stay on your clit as he uses an arm to lift you, his chest pressed to yours as he lines himself up. You let out a cry as he pushes in, the stretch of him too much after too long apart,

“Gotta stay quiet”

Your hands cling to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he pushes in further, a string of moans from your lips as he bottoms out. He turns his gaze to you, his eyes dark as he reaches a hands up,

“Open”

He pushes the fabric into your mouth, stuffing it inside your lips, the taste of your slick lingering on it as it soaks in your saliva.

“There we go”

He braces his hands on your waist, holding you as he pulls his cock out, dragging it along your dripping walls as your head drops back, your moans muffled by your panties.

“Missed this pussy so much”

He grunts as he thrusts into you, bottoming out with every stroke, his thumb tracing over your clit, your body teetering on the edge of orgasm as he works you open.

“Can he fuck you like this, huh?”

You pull your focus to him, his eyes staring back at you as his hips snap upwards, you try to respond but it comes out a muffled mess, shaking your head.

“That’s right, this pussy belongs to me, it’s fuckin mine” He punctuates his words with a thrust, forcing the head of his cock deep inside you as your slick drips from your core, pooling around the base of his cock.

Your saliva pools at the edges of your mouth, dripping down your chin as he grabs your hips, lifting your body and forcing it down on time with his thrusts,

“Fuck, not gonna last long with this tight pussy squeezin’ me”

Your hands paw at his skin, grabbing at his shirt, trying to ground yourself,

“Cum for me, show me how good I make you feel”

His words snap the band in your stomach, your orgasm tearing through your body as you writhe in his grip, your sobs quiet in your throat as tears prick at your eyes.

“That’s it, my perfect girl, my perfect fuckin girl”

His orgasm follows yours, his thrusts sloppy as he chases his high, wrapping his arms around your back as he holds you to him, burying his cock inside you as he floods your walls with his cum, the liquid dripping from your core as you spit the gag from your mouth, panting against his shoulder.

He holds his softening cock in you, his lips pressing softly to your neck as he mumbled against the skin.

He lowers you slowly, his hand on your waist steadying your wobbling legs as you lean back against the shed, heavy eyes staring back at him.

“Daddy’s home”

You furrow your brows at him, his gaze drawing your attention to your fathers car that had pulled into the driveway, panic setting into your nerves.

“I don’t want to see him with you again”

You’re in a daze, brain completely fogged, unable to form a response as you watch your fathers form grow closer, focused on him as Simon leans down toward the ground.

“Afternoon” He shouts, waving to the two of you,

“Good to see you, was just getting some gardening tips from your daughter, can’t seem to keep even a weed alive in my yard”

“She’s fantastic isn’t she, very gentle hand”

Simons smirks at the words, stepping back slightly from your body,

“You alright hun? Looks like this heats getting to you”

Your cheeks flush, thankful that the sheen of your skin seemed to hide it from your father, “Mhm, just been out too long I guess”

“Well, you should get inside, I’m sure you can talk to Simon later”

“Right, I’ll see you both later then” You nervously add, moving past the men toward your house, eyes staring at your feet as you leave.

You rush toward your room, your skin on fire as you peel back your curtains, watching the two men interact in your yard, you see Simons hand in his pocket, fidgeting as you squint your eyes.

Realization hits, it’s your panties in his pocket, he’s playing with your panties as he talks to your father, you can’t tell if the sweat on your skin is from the heat, embarrassment or how turned on it makes you. It feels so wrong, everything about him, the way he treats you, using you at his will, but you crave his touch, his words, everything about him.

There’s no escape anymore, you can’t avoid him no matter what you try, he’s always there, might as well give in.

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 4

Summary:

wc: 1k+

A/N: um hii sorry for updating a lil late 😅 but I got really into writing this esp at the end. We're almost done! As always feel free to comment your thoughts and reactions, or send them to my inbox! Thanks for reading :)

prev. next

Song: It's Only a Paper Moon - Ella Fitzgerald (totally optional to listen while you read, if you like that sort of thing)

The small plastic bag carrying your lunch swung from your wrist as you pushed the door to the counselor’s office open.

"Thanks again for helping me organize around here," said the woman standing beside you.

"No problem, Ms. Keene!"

By the time you stepped inside, Miles was already sitting at the round table in the middle of the room.

The boy spoke first as soon as your eyes met.

"Hey," he greeted you flatly. His stare wasn't too far off from the look of curiosity you get from a stray cat that isn't certain whether you're trying to give it food or not; neither malicious nor particularly excited.

You tilted your head in surprise.

"Hey, you in trouble or something?"

Miles shook his head.

"Ms. Keene lets me have lunch in here."

"You two know each other?" The tall, dark-skinned woman asked. Though she had asked you both, she beamed at Miles as she spoke. He glanced back and forth between you and the woman.

"Kinda."

She clasped her manicured hands together. 

"I'm glad you're starting to make friends again. That's progress. Enjoy your lunch," Ms. Keene said as she spun on her heel to leave, her short bob cut bouncing along with her.

"And put on those glasses!"

Miles rolled his eyes as the door shut with a click.

"Everybody's on your case about these glasses, dude. Just put 'em on," you said as you sat down next to him.

"Don't need 'em."

"Okay," you pointed to the analog clock hanging directly across from him, "tell me what time it is without using your phone."

He scoffed.

"Easy, it's…"

The boy stood, and squinted so hard that his nose scrunched. He heard you laughing through your nose behind him after a minute and soon dropped back down to his seat, hands raised in resignation.

"Alright, you got me. But who's looking at the damn clock all day?"

"Sitting in the back of the classroom with no glasses on is nuts, Miles. What's so bad about them?”

Miles pouted in indignation, "They make me look like Steve Urkel.”

“They can’t be that bad,” you said, grabbing the case from next to him and prying it open. “Lemme see.”

“Nope.”

“Just this once!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Please?”

The boy sighed, then took the glasses from you with a wary expression. He looked at them like they were a moldy piece of bread before finally putting them on.

“Happy?”

Neon green color aside, the glasses were truly not that bad. The thick lenses framed his face and made him look younger. The boy blinked, awaiting your verdict.

“Awww, you look like a little nerd!”

“Don't start with that,” Miles shook his head, a grin spreading across his face in spite of himself. He swiped them off of his face and took the case from you.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you said over a bite of your sandwich, “you look cute in them.”

He froze, a hand instinctively flying up to scratch the nape of his neck before turning his gaze in the other direction. You could still see the impression of his dimples peeking out from the side.

“Don’t get a big head over it, now,” you elbowed him gently. He quickly changed the subject.

“I’m finna tell Ms. Keene that you’re distracting me.”

Miles was now hunched over his notebook again. He had his homework sheet covering one page, but you could tell he was sketching. When you tried to look over his shoulder, he frantically shut it closed.

“Can you not be nosy for five minutes?”

“My fault, bro, damn.”

Miles continued to draw quietly for almost the entirety of calculus, never once allowing you to peek at it. He didn’t pause until you lightly tapped his arm.

The boy flinched at the sudden contact, but you had his attention.

“I’m stuck on this problem you wrote, just this one. Help me out?”

He tapped his pen lightly on the desk in consideration. Finally, he shrugged, closing the notebook and sliding it to the side.

“Sure.”

You placed the worksheet between you and Miles, where your desks met.

“It’s this one. I’m not getting the solution you got,” you explained, placing a finger on the offending equation. 

Miles peered closely at it. His braids nearly brushed the desk as his head moved.

“You gettin’ it wrong because you forgot to distribute here,” he pointed. “Everything has to distribute.”

You nodded as the gears in your head got to turning again. “Thanks.”

-

“Ma!” Miles whined as he took his plate of yellow rice and peas from the table.

“I’m just saying! La chica es muy linda, sigues mirándola. Don’t do anything crazy up there, understand?”

You were far from fluent, but the first bit of the brown woman’s sentence made a shy smile grace your features.

“This looks so good, thanks Mrs. Morales.” you said as you grabbed your own plate, carefully carrying it with both hands. 

“No problem, baby,” the woman replied, gently smacking the back of her son’s head before sending you both upstairs. “Same time as usual.”

“Your mom’s nice,” you remarked once you entered Miles’ room.

“You just sayin’ that ‘cuz she gassed your head up,” Miles laughed.

“Whatever. I’m ‘bout to fuck this plate up!”

“Not on my bed, I hope.”

The boy gave you a warning glance.

“Relax, you see me sitting?” 

You blew on a spoonful of rice before trying it, and the flavor nearly made your eyes pop out of your skull.

“Your momma went crazy in that kitchen.”

“M-hm,” was all Miles could reply as he shoveled the rice into his mouth, already halfway through the plate.

Soon both of your plates had been scraped clean, and you started working after taking the dirty dishes downstairs to wash. All three calculus problems had been completed, but a small squabble broke out over the appearance of the slideshow that Miles had put together.

“It looks so boring,” you complained. “At least make the background a different color–”

“Uh-unh, you gon’ make it hard as fuck to read. I say we keep it simple,” the boy swatted your hand away from the keyboard.

“Make the title dark magenta, and you got a deal.”

He sighed, “Fine. It’s legible, I guess.”

It was still only 7:30 by the time the project was finished, and you didn’t feel like leaving behind the warmth of Miles’ home just yet.

“Can you play some music?” 

Miles spun around in his swivel chair.

“What kind?”

“I dunno, whatever you listen to,” you tilted your head at him quizzically. “What do you listen to?”

“Um,” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker, setting it on his desk. “Just…whatever I feel like. Lots of stuff.”

He carefully laid down on his bed next to you, making sure to maintain at least a few inches of distance.

Old jazz music began to float through the air.

“You like Ella?”

“Yeah,” he said at a near-whisper. “...I do now. Forgot what this song was called.”

“‘It’s Only A Paper Moon,’” you answered. “From ‘The War Years’. Beautiful record.”

Miles snuck a glance at the side of your face while you stared up at the ceiling. He liked the dreamy, far-off way you’d said the title.

“You sound old as fuck right now,” he commented. “Record…”

This made you burst into laughter, and Miles decided that he didn’t mind that sound, either.

“My momma always calls ‘em ‘records’, so I picked up the habit.”

“I like how you talk.”

You finally turned your head and met the boy’s eyes. The small grin playing on his face wasn’t a teasing one.

“‘How I talk?’”

“When you’re not grilling me with questions like a cop? Yeah, it’s nice.”

Not sure what to do with this new information, you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling.

“You’re a strange one, Miles,” was all you could say.

There was a brief pause before you asked,“What did you mean by ‘now’?”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What’d I say about complete sentences?”

“Sorry,” you rolled your eyes. “You said you liked this song now, you didn’t like it before?”

He was silent for a good, long, ten seconds before answering.

“I used to not be super into jazz. Dad used to play that shit on the radio, driving me to school. I hated having to hear it the entire ride,” he laughed. “I know he’s somewhere making fun of my ass now.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, wondering if you should offer comforting words, or your condolences. Knowing Miles – at least a little – you decided against it.

“I used to listen to Ella songs when the house got too loud, or while I was eating lunch.”

“They let you listen to music down there?”

“Nah, I was eating upstairs with the English teacher after she saw me sitting by myself.”

“You still sit by yourself?”

Shaking your head, you answered, “I usually sit with Tianna, she’s usually my calc partner. This week’s kind of an exception.”

“So if it wasn’t for her, I woulda finished this shit three days ago,” he joked.

You placed your hand over your heart and gasped dramatically. “You mean you don’t enjoy being graced by my presence?”

“Hm,” Miles conceded, “I enjoy it a little.”

“Is this your way of saying we besties now?”

“Whoah, never mind. You killed the moment.”

“That was a moment?”

“Nope, forget everything I just said.”

-

Fun trivia since we're almost at the end: what book do you think Miles and the MC are reading in English class? There's no prize for answering but i'll be really excited about it. Thanks again for reading!

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[thepixelelf]

What the Fuck is Up with Secretary Hong? Pt. 2 - I Think I Wanna

prev « masterlist » next

note: I have since updated the mlist warnings, but reader experiences something like a mix between ochlophobia (fear of crowds) and claustrophobia (fear of small/closed spaces). It's something I personally deal with to a smaller degree, and I find it hard to label as one or the other

By the time Joshua has made it inside the restaurant, which is practically hidden in the corner of an OMO hotel, his breath has all but run out. He can feel his sweat starting to absorb in his suit, and as he approaches the host desk, he curses Seungcheol under his breath.

If the host notices his dishevelled state, she doesn't show it. With a polite smile, she simply greets, "Hello."

"I'm looking for the Vipe--" Joshua heaves in a breath and reconsiders his words. Probably best not to use that malicious moniker in front of your employees, right? Damn. "I mean--"

Before he can say your name, the host gestures into the restaurant. "Right this way, sir."

She leads him inside and past more than a few tables before they approach some floor-to-ceiling windows, which show off one of the city's parks outside.

You're sitting at a table for two, one leg crossed over the other and a glass of wine in your hand. Despite no doubt hearing the the host excuse herself, you don't turn away from the window.

Shit. He knew you'd be mad.

As the host leaves, you bring the wineglass up for one more sip, then push your chair back and stand up. "You're late," you say dryly, then finally meet his eyes.

And yeah-- wow. He understands why people are intimidated by you now.

You've got this blacker than black suit on, a devastating emerald sheen to it that makes Joshua's nicest suit feel like a knock-off brand. It doesn't look like you're just wearing it; more like it's intrinsically part of your ruthless, terrifying, powerful...

Alluring.

...nature.

Joshua's shoulders keep rising and falling against his will. He's out of breath. Still.

Right, he's supposed to say something now. That's how conversations work.

You walk up to him, arms crossed as your sharp eyes assess him up and down.

"I'm so sorry," Joshua starts. "My--"

But he doesn't actually know what to say about Seungcheol's whereabouts, since even Joshua has no idea where his usually reliable boss is. Seungcheol's never gone MIA like this before, and certainly not for a meeting as important as this one, with a person as attractive as--

--as important as you, he means.

"I can explain--"

"IT'S A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT."

Joshua whips around at the loud blast of music, eyes instinctively trying to find where Bruno Mars' voice booms from.

"WE'RE LOOKING FOR SOMETHING DUMB TO DO."

He doesn't spot the speakers, but he watches in shock as people file into the seating area from all directions, and even some of the customers stand up from their tables to...

"HEY BABY, I THINK I WANNA MARRY YOU."

Oh, holy hell. "A flash mob," Joshua mutters. "In 2024?"

The once-undercover dancers surround a table in the middle of the restaurant, but there are so many of them that some twirl directly in front of Joshua.

"IS IT THE LOOK IN YOUR EYES?"

As the music blares on, Joshua recalls your assistant telling him there would be a proposal during the meeting between you and Seungcheol. He assumed it would be more... classy in a place like this, though. Did you know about this? You couldn't have, right? This isn't exactly the environment for a professional meeting.

He should probably apologize for this, too. It's as much his job as it is Kim Jiwoo's to make sure these things run smoothly.

When he turns around to say sorry again, though, you're gone.

Well. No.

Joshua looks down from where you once were, and he finds you crouched on the ground, both your hands covering your ears.

"Are you..." He kneels down in front of you, hands reaching out even though he doesn't know what he plans to do with them.

At the sound of his voice, you lift your head, and your eyes meet his once more. They're different now, though -- wider, trembling, panicked.

Mesmerizing.

A sweeping dancer's foot flies near your head. You flinch. Joshua looks around, decides enough is enough, and gently places his hand on your arm. "Let's go," he says softly, just loud enough that you can hear him over the music. They're really going to play the whole song, huh?

He leads you along the walls towards an exit, one of his hands not quite touching your back, but there to guide you, and the other still on your forearm. You say nothing, just shutting your eyes and wincing when you pass a speaker and the music is louder than ever. Once you both reach a hallway out of the restaurant though, you take over and starting walking faster in a direction Joshua doesn't recognize. Eventually, he finds himself on some sort of outdoor patio.

You lean back against a wall, exhaling and rubbing both hands on your neck.

He should say something, he thinks, but he doesn't know what.

From your pocket, you pull out a packet of gum. You unwrap one with practised efficiency and stick it in your mouth. Closing your eyes again, you chew on the gum for a few moments while Joshua watches your breathing steadily become even again.

You peek an eye open at him, drop your head and wince, then reach for another stick of gum in the packet so you can hold it out for him.

Joshua eyes the gum. "Are you okay?"

You shrug. "A little embarrassed, yes. You've seen a side of me I wasn't planning to share."

Your direct words make him feel sheepish, like he forced something from you despite having nothing to do with that flash mob. He takes the gum only because you keep holding it out, and he doesn't want to be the reason your arm gets tired.

You smile when he unwraps his gum, and he fumbles with it a little at the sight. It's the first time he's seen a smile on you, and he wonders if all the people who say you're cold and ruthless and a knife or whatever have seen it before. Maybe you keep it to yourself because it's just too beautiful.

"Embarrassing moment aside, I apologize for the interruption. I wasn't aware that would be occurring."

Joshua nods, unsure why you're bothering to apologize so sincerely to him when he's just the secretary. "It's alright."

You hold out your hand again, empty this time, for a handshake. "You must be Choi Seungcheol. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"No," Joshua says immediately, about to correct you until his own tongue seems to freeze. He meets your eyes, and they're different again. Not the cold, high-ranking person of power look from those first moments, not the panicked, wide eyes from your bout of fear, but eyes with a playful, open shine to them. Eyes that are a little shy, but not afraid to be here after showing vulnerability. And before his brain can catch up, he's taking your hand in his own. "No, uh... The pleasure is all mine."

Alarms start blaring in the back of his mind, a siren that sounds an awful lot like STUPID, IDIOT, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING, but he ignores it entirely for multiple reasons. One being that your smile widens, and he likes looking at it.

"Unfortunately I'll have to cut this short today," you tell him, pulling your hand out of his reluctant grasp and nodding towards the direction of the restaurant. Joshua can still hear the faint musings of Bruno Mars. "I have a bit of a situation to deal with. Perhaps we can reschedule? I'm eager to hear what Geomsoft has to offer."

"Of course... Maybe I should just get your number?"

You start heading for the door. "I'll have my assistant send it to you."

"Oh, um--" Panicking, Joshua reaches for your arm, and he succeeds in stopping you, but he lets go when you eye his hand and let out an awkward little laugh. "Tell her to contact my secretary."

"Mr Hong?" you ask. He hopes you don't see how his name coming from your lips affects him.

He keeps his voice as steady as possible to say, "Yes."

"Okay." You put your hand on the door handle, taking one last look at him. "I will see you soon, Choi."

As the door falls shut behind you, Joshua can only think one thing.

What the hell did he just do?

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[gremlin-girly]

Day 28: Cold Turkey

Pairing: Dean x Reader (established relationship)

Fandom: Supernatural

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, petnames (baby)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied or reposted or put through an AI machine.

Summary: Dean eats all the cold turkey...

Word count: 470

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

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"DEAN!"

Your screech permeates every wall of the bunker. Even the birds close by scattered as they felt the shift from peace to utter rage under the concrete.

Sam, though gigantic he was, shrunk into himself when you burst out of the kitchen with a face like a storm.

"Hey-" he tried weakly but was but off by your growl;

"Where is he?"

Sam eyed the direction of Dean's room and you stomped off without another word. Sam sighed looking back at his laptop. He'd warned Dean to avoid the leftovers you'd decorated with warnings and post-its, he wasn't about to protect him from something he could have easily prevented.

You don't even knock at Dean's door, you angrily shove it open and let it smack against the wall making him startle. You stand in the doorway, heaving breaths of fury.

"You."

Dean peeks at you sheepishly, mid-way through putting a sliver of cold turkey into his mouth.

"Y/N -heyyy." He says nervously as you approach, scowling at him.

"That turkey was for the pie." You try to remain calm and your fists clench at your sides as Dean's eyes brighten at the thought of pie.

"Pie?"

"Yeah, pie. But now you've eaten the turkey." You breathe out slowly, releasing your fists to cup your cheeks. "So now there's no pie."

"'M sorry baby." Dean croons sweetly, giving you a pouty expression. "The turkey was just too good."

Your frown deepens and Dean starts to back peddle when his boyish charm isn't working as usual.

"I can fix it." He declares getting to his feet and standing before you. "I'll go on a shopping run and get you more."

"I'm not cooking a whole other turkey." You grit out and Dean runs his hands reassuringly over your forearms.

"What if I cook it, huh? Just tell me what to do and you can sit back and relax."

There's that boyish smile again. You can feel your anger dissipate and your grasping at it helplessly to try and remain huffy with Dean but you're struggling. The thought of seeing Dean in the kitchen, bossing him around like he does to you on hunts.... it's an opportunity you can't miss.

Sighing, you concede. "Fine."

Dean beams at you. "Just one last thing before I go - to make you feel better."

His lips are against yours before you can speak. When you break, you're holding onto his arms and giggling because he tastes like turkey.

"Forgiven." You chuckle, every shred of anger finally gone. "Now, get going before I change my mind."

Dean grins as he grabs his jacket and slips on his boots, heading out of his room and flashing Sam a teasing wink as he heads up the steps of the bunker with a jingle of his keys in hand.

[galaxiasgreen]

🍺🖤This Hell We Create

Sebastian x F!Muggle!Reader with eventual smut, minor Garrinis [E-rated, 4.8k words]

"You ain't got a bad face either, lad. You looking for a partner? My daughter is quite beautiful." You hope Sebastian will chalk all that to the mania, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you. "That she is, sir."

You have a bad day – Sebastian seeks to change that.

[MASTERLIST][FIRST][PREV][NEXT] [read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

TW: alcoholism, grief, coarse language, dementia/ Alzheimer's disease.

3. good days, bad days

When Sebastian collapses onto the barstool, you can see the withdrawal written like plain English on his face.

"You know what I want," he croaks. "Please."

It's another typical weekday in a late summer heatwave. You pour him a stout and slide it across the counter, and as he guzzles it greedily, Adam's apple bobbing to the rhythm, you note the haggard look on his face. He's handsome, that's for sure, but today he's also worn down, stretched and contracted by the universe itself to leave this brittle husk behind.

"You looked like you needed that."

He slams the glass down.

"There are good days and there are bad days," he says, panting hard. "Today... today is a bad day."

He drags his thumb up his temple, plying one of the veins that protrudes across. He's sweating, from the heat and the relief, and you watch a fat droplet roll down his face. It sets a course along his jaw, down the sharp angle of his chin before it finally drips onto the back of his hand.

"You shouldn't stop immediately," you say, forcing yourself to look away. "You need to give time for your body to adjust."

"You think I don't know that?"

You say nothing.

He recoils a little. "Sorry. Shouldn't snap."

"Irritability," you mumble. "It's a symptom."

"That explains why everything is so fucking annoying today." His eyes meet yours. "You must've seen loads like me."

"Eight years' worth, yeah. You're not the first and you won't be the last."

"Have you ever..." He swallows. "How many have beat it?"

The answer leaps fully formed onto your tongue. None. None at all. You've seen people try, make promises to God when they're broken and on their knees... and you've seen those same people stagger their way back to your counter, begging for respite the only way they know how. Sometimes you never see them again, when someone imparts the sad news dressed in funeral black.

"Just because I ain't seen it doesn't mean it didn't happen – doesn't happen. It's possible." Sebastian is much too clever for lies and sickly sweet encouragement, but you stare at him straight anyway. "You survived the passing of your sister. That toughens a person. You can beat this."

Yet he thrusts his empty glass in your direction, a wordless plea that breaks your heart. You refill it in exchange for more coin, and Sebastian doesn't take his eye off your movements – pulling the leaver down, pouring the dark gold liquid, letting the foam float to the top. A skein spills over when you pass it back to him, and he draws his tongue up the glass slowly to lick it clean. You track it hungrily.

"It's all bloody pointless, isn't it?"

You focus on his eyes again, coffee, ground, chewed up and spat out.

"I'll keep trying. Every day I wake up and I just want to drink, and I tell myself no, because that's how it's supposed to be, but everyone knows I'll come back here. If Ominis took my feet I'd crawl on my knees, and if he took my knees I'd drag myself by my hands. I'd find a way. It just doesn't stop."

"It stops," you say, "when you choose to stop."

"It doesn't work like that. You know it doesn't." He gazes at you stormily over the lip of his glass. "Just because you choose to free yourself from the maw of a beast doesn't mean it'll let you go."

Last time he got like this you threw it back at him. This time it feels different. Sebastian isn't angry at the world – he's just angry at himself, and that only warms you with tides of pity and sorrow. In the next stride you're hoisting up the bar door and plonking yourself onto the stool at his side, aware of his scent, musky with the heat, and the way his eyes hook onto you, never once leaving yours.

"I don't do... comfort," you warn him. "Trying to beat addiction is shit, and I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry that you're in this situation," you clarify. "Here's the thing though: you're going to fail. You're going to fail over and over. But what really matters is you don't give up when the going gets tough. You get up. Because the only one who can beat this thing is you."

He drinks again, slower now, contemplative, and he manages to stop a third of the way down.

"Not bad advice for someone who doesn't do comfort," he mumbles. "When I used to live up north, I got to know the barkeep at my local, too. She gave good advice. Must be in the profession."

"Must be all the listening to so many people whinge."

"You love it really." A smile peels out from his melancholy, which is gratifying to see. "Her name was Sirona. She was like a mother to me."

"Sirona?" You scoff. "You make a habit being on first-name basis with every barkeep, Sallow?"

"Nah, not all." He winks. "Just the pretty ones."

You roll your eyes and go to stand, get back to work, but Sebastian catches your hand. His fingers, though large and strong and ribbed with veins, are deceptively soft and gentle, and his thumb grazes over the skin, lighting up some darkness in your chest.

"Thank you."

It's simple, but it means the world.

When you wake one morning, the sunrise has long sheared away the darkness of your bedroom in the eaves.

That means you're late.

You curse yourself and throw off the blanket. It must be after seven. Damn it. You forgot to set your alarm clock last night, so overwhelmed with fatigue that you hit the sack immediately upon closing up the pub. Scrambling to make up for lost time, you throw on a day dress and apron and sprint downstairs.

Your mother stoops over the window sill overlooking the beer garden. The gnarled ridge of her spine protrudes out her back. What little hair she has is wispy and white, like a tuft of cloud, and her fingers crackle when they touch the glass, bony and desiccated from years of hard work.

"Mama—"

She doesn't turn around. "It's a pretty day, isn't it, dear?"

You frantically check she hasn't hurt herself – a scrape, bruise or God forbid, blood – but she seems unharmed, and you send a thank you upwards as you usher her towards the armchair. "It is, Mama."

"Where's Fluffy? Haven't heard him barking up a storm yet."

"Running around outside, Mama. Sit here. I'll get you breakfast."

Instead you race across the hall and almost crash into your papa, clenching the bannister for dear life. His withered face, sagged with age, makes no issues for his beaming smile, boasting his yellowed teeth.

"I dreamt of Margate today. We should go there, don't you think, dear? Last time we went you devoured three scoops of ice cream in ten seconds!"

Margate, the famous beach town over in west England. Your parents took you a few times when you were young, the only family day trips you could afford. The memories are fond and sentimental, though you haven't had three scoops of ice cream since you were about five.

"We'll see, Papa."

You slip a hand beneath his arm, trying not to flinch at how frail he is, and help him to the parlour. Your mama has moved from the chair again, back at the window, staring at the endless blushing sky. It's approaching the later months now, when the morning is a balancing act between sunlight and ink, and you have to squint to see the tiny mound at the back of the garden, where Fluffy has been buried for four years.

It doesn't matter that they forget, that they can't help themselves anymore. They're all you have left.

You feed them, you dress them, you wash them of their soiled clothes. You tuck them into their respective armchairs, then take a moment to clean yourself, checking periodically between sponging away last night's sweat to make sure they haven't fallen over and knocked into something. There's no time for grub now, so you head downstairs just as the front door bangs.

"Ada, hello."

Ada's low-cut dresses don't surprise you anymore; you don't have to imagine what she does after she's finished here for the day. She tears the cigarette from her lips and blows the smoke out, the stink of it stifling.

"Late today?"

"I slept in."

"Still counts as my time. And I want payment upfront."

It's getting more costly – two shillings, six pence – but you pay it, because the alternative is much worse. Ada bites each coin before pocketing them and silently making her way upstairs.

You snatch an apron from the side. It's time to work. You count the stock, clean the tables, accept deliveries and prepare food all before the other staff arrive – Bonny gives you a sweet smile.

"You aw'right, Miss?"

Her assaulter behind bars, she's been feeling much better about coming to work. It'll never be the same for her, but you take some comfort in knowing there's peace in closure.

"I'm fine. Can you rake the garden today?"

"'Course, but..."

"What?"

"Your hair's got a mind of it's own, Miss. You sure you're okay?"

You finger-comb it down. "Just get to work, please."

Your stomach growls when you open, but you push through for the late morning crowd. The in-house chef cooks breakfast, breads soaked in hot lard, smoked kipper on rye, beef gruels and broth, which only makes you long more for a moment to sit down. I woke up late, this is my punishment. Things only exacerbate when two – two ­– clumsy patrons drop their glasses, leaving you to clean up the shattered remains, and another woman gives you a bollocking for bungling an order.

Not even a surprise visit from Sebastian at eleven o'clock brightens your mood.

"You're early," you remark, when he sinks into his stool.

He raises an eyebrow. "And you're sharp. I thought I'd pop in. Bad day, huh?"

"I'm not an alcoholic."

"Hey, even you normal drinkers have Bad days."

Then today is a Bad day – a really fucking Bad day.

"I slept in. That's all."

He grins. "Guess it's my turn to comfort you, huh?"

"Don't need comfort."

"Like a fish doesn't need water?" When you shoot him a steely glare, he simply sticks out his tongue. "You're being crabby today. Ever thought about taking a break? Having a night out with friends?"

"No time."

"No time for friends?"

"No time to make them."

"Well, you've met Ominis. How about we share?" You wince; Sebastian laughs. "He's all right once you get to know him. You should meet Garreth too, he's a good sport. What about your parents?"

The bad mood colours with fear. "What about them?"

"You said they were retired. Do they live in the country?"

"You think I can afford to buy them property in the country?"

"Where do they live then?"

"Not here."

"Why not go visit them?"

"I see them every day."

It slips out. Fuck. A stupid mistake. His lips roll, but hopefully he can't see the way you've bent the truth.

"And you?" you ask quickly, busying your hands so you don't have to meet his gaze. "What about your parents?"

"Ah." He draws his thumb pensively across his cheek. "They're dead."

"Oh." Bugger.

His lips split into a grin. "The look on your face... relax, bar girl. It was a long time ago. Happens to everyone eventually."

You don't want to think about that.

"Tell me about them," he says, making himself more comfortable as panic runs riot in your bones. "Are they as crabby as you?"

"I am not crabby."

You are a little crabby.

"Nowt much to tell," you mumble, before he can retort. "Both of them worked here their whole lives, barely a break in between. Mama took some time off when they had me, but while I kipped she'd come down to wait tables."

His gaze flickers upwards. "You lived upstairs?"

Fuck. "Yeah. I mean, I do now, they don't."

"So you're here all the time? What do you do for fun?"

You slap your hands to the counter. Sebastian doesn't even flinch.

"I don't have time for a bloody interrogation, Sebastian. Do you want a drink or not?"

Instead the bastard leans a head in his hands, and bats his eyelids like a dewy-eyed debutante.

"You should swear more. I like it when you're crabby."

"You see that pot hanging up behind me? You're going to become very acquainted with it if you don't shut up."

He leans close until his breath whispers along your nose.

"I like you most when you're angry at me."

Before you can grab the pot, the stock room door groans opens.

"Dear!" cries your mama.

Every muscle in your body goes cold. You swing around, sure you misheard the voice, but it is her, smile wide and ignorant, shuffling towards you with the pace of a determined turtle.

You freeze. How did she get downstairs? And why? What the hell is Ada doing? And why isn't it the thing you're bloody paying her for?

"Mama," you step forwards to intercept her, "you shouldn't be here—"

"Oh, hello, young man," she says, regarding Sebastian. "My, you're very muscular, aren't you?"

You flush. "Mama—"

"Part of my job, ma'am," Sebastian responds smoothly. "I see where your daughter's beauty comes from."

You lose the ability to speak. My beauty? Your mother chortles. "What a charmer. What are you having?"

There's no beer in front of him, but still he says, "Stout."

"Ah." There's a twinkle in her eye. "That's my favourite of the beers. Did you know the name comes from its strength? Not one for the weak-willed."

"I didn't know that." His eyes slide to you. "Good to know I'm not weak-willed."

"I will never forget my first sip. Seventeen, managed to flirt with the barkeep for a pint to impress another man. Was sitting in that very stool. I knew he saw right through me but he gave me a pint anyway. Awful, didn't have the stomach for it back then, yet I drank the whole thing. Funny. I never saw the other man after that night, but the barkeep, well." She gives you a squeeze. "I think there was magic involved."

"I'll bet," Sebastian replies. "It's always good to believe in a little magic."

"Mama," you say tiredly. "Let's get you back upstairs."

"I miss Margate," she says as you take her arm. "We should go to Margate, shouldn't we, dear? The beach is lovely. Your father misses it so much, and you can have your ice cream."

"One day, Mama."

Sebastian gets to his feet. "Let me help you."

You can't say no. He ducks beneath the bar door and snakes his arm through your mother's. She looks at him strangely.

"Hello there. Where did you come from?"

It feels like your life is collapsing. This part of your image, carefully crafted to hide a terrible secret, has cracked upon the face – and what good is porcelain when it is no longer perfect? You put one foot after the other, mindful of your mama's pace, and Sebastian's, as you lead her into the stock room, and to the stairs leading back up to the house.

Ada is halfway down once you shut the door behind you. Her face is flushed. "Swear, I went to help your papa wash— I was only gone for two seconds—"

"Later," you snap. "Just do your bloody job now."

She heads back up the stairs, sheepish, as you and Sebastian follow up, and finally get her settled back into her armchair. You're frighteningly aware of how silent Sebastian is, how his eyes dart about, drinking in the details of your home, your space. Already you're thinking of a hundred excuses. She's just sick, this isn't normal, she didn't forget who you were in the space of a minute. It's useless now.

Sebastian will see through it all.

He doesn't say a word when you return back downstairs, after you lock the stockroom door. The day has turned from Bad to Catastrophic – the best you can do now is damage control.

Your pour him a stout and slide it to him.

"Please don't tell anyone."

He stares at it, confused. "What?"

"You can have free drinks, forever," you whisper. "Food too. Whatever you want—"

"Whoa, bar girl!" He laughs. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't need charity."

"Money then?"

"What makes you think I'll tell anyone?"

You flick your gaze between his eyes, but he's quite serious. "I know they're... they're..." mad, you can't say aloud, "but please, you can't tell anyone. I can't have them sent away to an asylum. They're all I have left."

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he says softly. "I promise."

It's not very reassuring, frankly. You paid Ada to take care of them, and she couldn't even do that. But Sebastian's never broken his word before, not with you, not with Bonny. You just wish he didn't know – wish you could erase the memory like it never existed at all.

"Are you going to take them?" he asks, breaking your train of thought.

"What?"

"To the beach?" Sebastian leans his head in his hands again. "Your mama wanted to go, said your father did too..."

You blurt a shrill laugh. "'Course not. The nearest beach is miles away and I ain't got the time nor money to get them there."

"I can take them."

That feeling you've been ignoring stirs again. You push it down.

"Yeah, all right, Sebastian, and I'll quit my job tomorrow to pursue a passion in ballet."

"Bet you'd look good in a tutu."

You flush despite yourself. "No offence, but you can barely walk in a straight line, and they can't leave the house!"

"I can be sober for a few hours. And if it's only one morning it'll be fine, right? It's not good to keep them cooped up there. Your mama seemed fine."

You shake your head. "No, no, she— and my papa— they aren't well." They're not right in the head anymore. "I appreciate the offer, but—"

"That's too bad." Sebastian shrugs. "I've decided to decline you."

"You— what?"

"I'm taking them to the beach." He makes it sound like he's offering to pick up some groceries at the market. "What day works best? Tomorrow? Meant to be nice weather. You can leave Bonny in charge for a bit."

"Are you nuts? How would you even get them there?"

"If I tell you," he grins, "I'll have to..."

"God, be serious, for once in your bloody—"

He takes your hand suddenly. This is only the second time now, but again you're totally arrested, focus pinpointed on the tenderness with which he squeezes you – with grip as firm as a promise unbroken.

"I can do it."

You swallow the hope down, but it persists like a lump. Is it a trick? Have you been lured by silver words and pretty smiles? Sebastian is a master of pretence and possesses not just a dark streak – but a demonic one. What if he hurts your parents? What if he turns them into the authorities? They're vulnerable people, and they're all you have left. Yet you can't bring yourself to say no anymore. You can't bring yourself to push him away, not when it seems like he would carry the world on his shoulders for a glimpse of your smile.

To make my parents happy, you correct yourself tersely. Parents, not me. He's doing it for them. That's why you're doing this too – for them.

"All right," you concede in a whisper. "But you can't just take them. I have to go, and I need to know logistics."

"I meet you here before dawn, I'll collect your parents, and you make you way over before us. I'll even let you ride my carriage."

"You have a carriage?"

"I can get one."

"You can... get one..."

"A man can't get a carriage now?"

"Not by tomorrow."

"I know the right people."

"In the police?"

He winks. "If I tell you..."

You roll your eyes. "Okay, so let's say I manage to believe you'll conjure a carriage from thin air as you escort my parents in God-knows-what contraption. How long will it take you to get there?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll be there before you."

The retort leaps onto your tongue, but when he gives you that look, the low-lidded eyes, the flicker of mischief, daring for you to challenge him, your words promptly back down.

"Trust me?" he asks.

How? The question burns, desperate for answers. Sebastian is an elaborate puzzle made of a thousand pieces, except most of them are missing and the few you have don't fit together.

"I'll try." You take a deep breath. "They're all I have left, and I swear to God, Sebastian, if you hurt them... I will hunt you down."

Sebastian slides the correct change across the counter, then downs his drink in one go.

"Oh, bar girl," he says with a laugh, "I'll be disappointed if you don't."

"We're going to the beach today."

If you were a lantern, the way their faces light up could fuel you for a hundred years.

"Margate?" asks your father, facing his wife. "You hear that, darling? The beach in Margate. I've been wanting to go there."

"Not Margate," you explain, and you hate having to temper their expectations, "but yes, the beach, Papa."

"We'll get you ice cream, dear," says your mama.

"I'd like that," you say, smiling.

You left Bonny in charge, giving her the keys and a list of hastily-scrawled instructions about what to do and when to do it. Bonny reassured she'd leave everything spick and span, and you're forced to believe her. You haven't taken a day trip out in – well, since your parents were healthy, and the anticipation excites you as it makes your stomach churn.

At precisely five-thirty, there's a knock at the pub's door. With the carriage and horses waiting on the road as promised, Sebastian leans against the wall with a cigarette jammed in his mouth. He jabs the orange stub into the wall when you bring out a sack of your belongings.

"You smoke now?"

"Good morning to you too. If you must know, it helps relieve the withdrawal." His gaze rakes you up and down, making you blush before it hooks on your footwear. "No, no. Go put some boots on."

"What's wrong with these? They're day shoes, easy to slip on and off for the sand."

"Trust me, you'll need boots."

By the time you've changed into a battered pair, Sebastian has already introduced himself to your papa.

"In the 70s, cor, I tell you, I was a looker," he says, and Sebastian, to his credit, appears genuinely interested. "Face like mine could win anyone over, but when I saw this darling sweet girl talking up that mug at the bar, I just knew she was the one. You ain't got a bad face either, lad. You looking for a partner? My daughter is quite beautiful."

You hope Sebastian will chalk all that to the mania, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"That she is, sir."

You snort. It's all a game to him, but it plucks your heartstrings nonetheless, and you clamber into the carriage without looking him in the eye.

Sebastian closes the door. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Where's the driver?"

"Don't worry about that, the horses know where to go."

Now that is absurd. "How the hell—"

"Ah ah, remember? Trust?"

You sit back in the carriage. "I said I'd try."

"Then try harder." He slaps the carriage side, which prompts the horses into motion. "Get some rest! It's a fairly long journey!"

You don't. The whole way out of the city and down the winding, country roads, you're wide awake, taking in the sight of the buildings and bustle morphing into trees and villages, and fields that roll for endless miles. The horses canter most of the way, so the sea comes into view after only a few hours, the land flat and sparse, and when the carriage stops abruptly, about half a mile out from the shore, you open the door and find the earth damp and moist beneath you, veined with a thousand rivulets of gilded blue.

"Boots," you murmur, smiling.

They squelch when you jump down into the marsh. The air is tangy with salt and sediment, but the sea wind is welcome in the heat. For a moment you shut your eyes, and all that panic and worry and dread – it simply melts away.

As vowed, Sebastian and your parents are waiting on the shore when you cross the marshland towards them. All three of them are as pristine as when you left – another oddity that you cannot explain.

Sebastian sweeps his arm out. "Welcome to Egypt Bay."

It's a small beach, if it can even be called that, settled in a crook between the sea and the mouth of the Thames. The river folds in on itself out beyond, creating a shelf of foam that constantly undulates in perfectly even ripples. The beach itself is a dearth of life, the sand wet but undisturbed, save only for a flimsy parasol Sebastian has stuck into the ground, and your parents, already padding their way towards the ocean.

"The beach!" your father yells. "Wheeee!"

"We vanished in a fireplace!" your mother cries. "Reappeared in another house!"

She must be mad, but you're too elated to care.

"I can't believe you did it," you breathe, facing him. "You actually did it."

He scoffs, hooking his thumbs into his trouser pockets. "Was there ever any doubt?"

"At least ninety per cent."

"Only ninety? Should've gone for the full one hundred. Would've made a much more satisfying reveal."

He drags out a cooling box and opens the lid – it's full of ice cream. Strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, pistachio, a few more flavours you've never tried. The ice cushioning each tub is intact. How the hell did he transport ice cream without it melting?

"Flavour preference?"

You mumble out a meagre whatever you're having, because you're too overwhelmed to do anything else, so Sebastian takes the chocolate – perfectly frozen – and scoops it into two tubs. The flavour is rich and decadent, better than anything you've had, and brings back another wave of nostalgia for times long past.

"Are you going to tell me how?" you ask, once you're finished.

There's chocolate left on the corner of his mouth. He thumbs it away, then licks it clean.

"If I tell you..."

"You'll have to kill me, I know."

"It's more like, if I tell you, I'd have to... never mind." You shove down the curiosity when he nods his head towards your parents. "They look like they're enjoying themselves."

Your parents intertwine arms and kick up the wet sand with childlike joy. You've been seeing them in monochrome this whole time – now they're in full colour, like some spark has been lit in both of their hearts. Even if it's only for today, only for this rare, precious moment, you are grateful.

"It's all they've talked about the last few months," you mumble. "It's the only thing they've really wanted to do. I care about them, but bringing them out... I've been terrified to do it."

"Because of the forgetfulness?"

"Because if anyone sees them. They're mad and they can't take care of themselves anymore, and if they get sent away... I'll have no one. Selfish, I know, but..." Your breath wracks. "They're all I have left."

There's sand in his hair and lashes, sweat that courses down his jaw, down the column of his throat, past his shirt, a slit open to the air, teasing more of his muscle and tattoos.

"That's not true," he whispers. "You have me."

In the silence, you see him watching your parents in earnest satisfaction. He's a stranger, freckled, drunk, odd, and not above using trickery and deceit against his foes. He shouldn't have to do this, he's not under any obligation. Yet he has, for no other reason than he can, and that it will make your parents happy. Seeing the delight on their faces releases a burden you didn't know you were shouldering.

Tentatively, you reach for his hand, and he responds in kind, until your fingers are knotted together.

"Thank you."

It doesn't encompass all the feelings in your chest, that iridescent gratitude you can't put into words, and how fast your heart beats and your fingers itch to touch him more. How your lips hunger for his.

It's simple, yes, but for him, you hope, it means the world.

The sun catches his face in ethereal light.

"Good day," he says, squeezing your hand.

You squeeze back.

"Yes," you say softly. "Good day."

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[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 6

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Sinker, Comet, Boost

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: Sorry about no fic last week. I had surgery on Friday and didn't get a chance to post the fic I wanted to post, so to stay on schedule, I'm forgoing that fic for another update of this one! Yay! This part is going to be tough, but it was absolutely necessary for Cara and Wolffe to have this moment together just as much as the bath time moment. Let's just say, breakfast doesn't go as planned. (oops it got longer) As always, please enjoy 💚

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After bath time was done, and they'd both dried off and changed into new clothes, it was time for breakfast. Wolffe really hoped his Pack brothers came through and made a decent breakfast for all of them. He was starving, and he knew Cara must be hungry too. He was a little worried since he didn't give Boost any directions, but there was foodstuff in the conservator, he thought, or, well, he hoped. Knowing his wife, she would've stocked up when she found out he was coming home.

Wolffe walked into the kitchen with Cara following closely behind, but stopped in his tracks at what he saw. Cara didn't stop walking and bumped into the back of his leg with a small oomph. Feeling the light hit, Wolffe reached back around with his hand to rub her head, still staring dumbstruck at the state of the kitchen.

"What in the…" Wolffe said with wide eyes. It was a mess. A complete and utter mess. He wasn't even sure it was still a kitchen. "I said make breakfast, not fight breakfast!"

"We did!" Boost grinned. He had flour patches across his face and streaks down his clothes.

"Sweetie," Wolffe said as he looked down at Cara. "Do you know what that is?" He pointed at Boost.

Cara shook her head.

"I'm gonna teach you a new word," Wolffe smiled. "That is a di'kut."

"Dee… koot," she repeated.

"Hey!" Boost exclaimed, clearly offended by the remark.

Wolffe snorted. "You're the one who said it's never too late to start."

Boost opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it because Wolffe was right.

"Anyway," Comet chimed in and gestured towards the table. "Breakfast is served!"

Wolffe sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, and walked Cara over to the table to eat whatever breakfast his Pack brothers created. She climbed up onto her chair next to him and he made sure she was seated properly so she wouldn't fall off. Sinker then walked around the table and placed the plates down with their homemade pancakes stacked on them. Wolffe eyed the oddly shaped and multi-colored pancakes suspiciously and raised an eyebrow up at his brother.

"What?" Sinker asked.

"Is it edible?" Wolffe asked.

"I made them," Comet added. "So, yeah, they're edible."

Wolffe snorted. Of course Boost and Sinker couldn't be left alone to make breakfast. It was a good thing they picked up Comet when they did or they'd all have starved by now.

Cara tugged on Wolffe's pants and he lowered his head so he could hear her.

"Where's mommy?" she asked.

The room went silent and Wolffe sighed. Not this again. "She's not here, sweetie," he answered, then pulled her plate a little closer to the edge of the table. "Now, eat your breakfast for me."

"We can't eat without mommy," Cara said, then pushed the plate back.

Wolffe bit back his frustration and pulled the plate towards her again. "You have to eat."

"Not without mommy!" she yelled and pushed the plate with more force, knocking the fork onto the floor.

"Cara," Wolffe warned, his patience wearing thin. "This isn't a debate."

"I don't want it!" she screamed.

Cara climbed down from her chair, sat on the floor, and cried loudly. She was in a full-blown tantrum and Wolffe didn't know what to do. He looked over at Comet, Boost, and Sinker with pleading eyes, but the three of them only shrugged. Her screaming became louder and pierced Wolffe straight through the head, making it throb and ache like earlier. Somehow she'd reached a frequency that made him want to scream too. He tried to keep himself under control and calm her down.

"Sweetie," Wolffe said as he rubbed his temples. "I need you to stop screaming, please."

She continued to wail from her seat on the floor, tears streaming down her face as her cheeks turned red. Wolffe could feel the tension in his head rising as it threatened to boil over and explode. Why couldn't she just stop crying? Why couldn't she just understand? Why did he have to keep explaining it to her? He tried to think of his best options, but her incessant screaming was grating on his nerves and clouding his thoughts. If she didn't quiet down soon, the neighbors were going to think he was hurting her.

"Cara!" Wolffe barked, picking his hands up from the table to try and settle himself. "I said stop!"

Cara looked at Wolffe and stopped crying, and, for a moment, Wolffe thought it was finally over.

"I want mommy!" she started screaming again. "I want mommy! I want mommy! I want mommy!"

The tension snapped like a taut wire and Wolffe's chair scraped across the floor as he violently pushed it back. He took a few steps towards Cara, dropped to his knees, and grabbed her little shoulders so she was looking him in the eyes. "She's not coming back!" he yelled. "Do you understand me? She's never coming back! She's dead! She's gone! So, just stop asking for her already!"

Wolffe panted at the exertion and hung his head between his arms, the anger and frustration slowly dissipating. The words he spoke so ferociously, not only to his daughter but also to himself, echoed in his mind. He picked his head up and looked at his wide-eyed daughter, instantly feeling a shooting pain straight through his heart. She looked confused. She looked helpless. She looked scared. She looked scared… of him. Remorse washed over him like a tidal wave and the panic of what he just did flooded his brain.

"Oh, kriff," Wolffe breathed as he released his grip on her tiny shoulders. Cara backed away from him until she bumped into Comet's leg. Wolffe's breath hitched. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Baby–" Wolffe reached out his hand, but Cara turned away from him and grabbed onto Comet's leg.

Comet looked down at Wolffe with a pained expression, then at Cara, and sighed. "Come here, ad'ika," he soothed. "I've got you." He picked Cara up into his arms and she grabbed onto his shirt, hanging on with tight little fists while burying her face in his chest. He readjusted her on his hip, then locked eyes with Wolffe in a silent word. Wolffe hung his head and Comet left the room with Cara.

Once Cara was out of the kitchen, Wolffe pounded his fists onto the floor and yelled in frustration.

Sinker knelt beside him and placed his hand on Wolffe's shoulder.

"What have I done?" Wolffe choked. He wanted to vomit. "I grabbed her. I yelled at her. I've never– I wouldn't– How could I do that?"

Sinker looked up at Boost and gestured for him to go do something else for the moment. Boost nodded and left the kitchen.

"Maker forgive me," Wolffe's voice quivered. "She's just a child, and I… I treated her like a cadet. Like a kriffing shiny!"

"Wolffe–"

"No!" Wolffe yelled and smacked Sinker's hand away. "There's no excuse."

Sinker sighed and sat back on his haunches. "Give yourself a break, will ya? Your wife's dead."

Wolffe flinched at the bluntness of the comment, but maybe that was what he needed right now.

"Maker, Wolffe," Sinker continued. "It's only been what? Twelve standard hours? And in that time you've lost your wife, your home, your belongings, and you almost lost Cara too. You really thought you could get through this without losing your temper a little?"

"I'm a commander–"

"Kriff being a commander," Sinker rolled his eyes. He moved around the floor to face Wolffe. "You're still human, commander or not, and Cara doesn't need Commander Wolffe right now, she just needs her dad. You know, the one who loves her?"

"But I scared her…" Wolffe lamented, the words burning in the back of his throat. "She was scared of me."

"She'll be fine," Sinker said with a wave of his hand. "Just apologize and move on. She's a tough kid. Tougher than you might think." Sinker smirked. "You are her dad after all."

A small smile formed at the corner of Wolffe's mouth. Sinker was right about one thing. She was the daughter of a clone commander, not just some random natborn off the streets. His genetics, and his wife's, ran through her veins. She was sensitive like her mother, but she got his resilience and also his attitude. Plo's words from the night before still rang true. He needed to take each moment as it came and do what was needed then, even if that meant messing it up once and a while. She'd forgive him one day.

Wolffe took a deep breath to compose himself before Sinker offered a hand to help him up. He accepted it without complaint. Looking back at the table of untouched food, now getting cold, another sigh escaped his lips. Cara still hadn't eaten and he wasn't sure if they had any more time for delays since they had to leave soon. He decided to pack some of the pancakes in a container and hoped that Cara would eat them like that. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

After putting the food away, Wolffe took another deep breath, then released it slowly before walking out of the kitchen and towards the living room. He stepped to the threshold, and just as he thought, Comet was sitting on the couch with Cara sitting calmly on his lap. He never understood how Comet got so good with kids, but he was thankful. With slow and soft steps, Wolffe approached them. He sat down on the ground and fiddled with a piece of the carpet while he got up the nerve to speak.

"Cara," Wolffe said softly.

Cara lifted her head from resting against Comet's chest to look at Wolffe.

"I'm sorry I got upset and yelled at you," he said. "It was wrong."

"It's okay…" she mumbled into Comet's shirt.

"No, baby, it's not," he continued. "I know… I know this is scary. Daddy is scared too, but that doesn't make it okay for either of us to get upset at each other." He paused, gauging her expression and understanding of what he was saying. "So, how about less screaming and more listening, for both of us?"

"Okay," she said. "I'm sorry, daddy."

Wolffe smiled weakly and released another shaky breath. He opened his arms. "Can I have a hug?"

Cara nodded and squirmed out of Comet's arms and into Wolffe's. He held her tight against him, careful not to hurt her, and kissed the side of her head. He started rocking her and looked up at Comet, who had a warm smile on his face. Wolffe mouthed a simple thank you to him and Comet nodded. Wolffe didn't know what he would do without his Pack brothers, and it pained his heart that it took a tragedy such as this for him to realize just how much they meant to him.

"Daddy?" Cara mumbled into his chest.

Wolffe leaned her back so he could see her face. "Yes, baby?'

"Is mommy ever gonna come home?" she asked.

Wolffe bit his tongue. "No baby, she's not."

"I'm gonna miss mommy," she sniffled and her eyes turned watery.

Wolffe leaned his forehead against Cara's and let his own emotions show. "Me too, baby. Me too."

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[badasgirlfriend]

Stolen Hoodie | Bada Lee Social Media AU

T/W: this chapter contains themes of abuse and violence, so if you are uncomfortable with these topics, please don't read it.

pairings: bada lee x shin nari

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a/n: sorry for the short chapter my uni isn't letting me breath😩

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With a deep exhale, Bada found herself staring in the direction of her girlfriend, who was seated opposite her at the table. Nari was deeply focused on the task in front of her, wearing headphones to block out the world.

Bada felt her heart skip a beat. This girl - this amazing girl - was her girlfriend. And yet, it still felt unreal. Though they hadn't discussed it, or necessarily asked each other out, they both knew they were a couple. Their relationship had already been very partner-like, even before any labels came into play.

She carefully stepped into the classroom, trying her best to make as little noise as possible. When she was close to Nari, she suddenly leaned in and touched her lips to Nari's cheek.

As Nari's eyes widened at the feeling of hands on her shoulder, she quickly turned around, only to be face-to-face with the girl she liked. Her expression changed rapidly from fear to relief, her eyes softening.

She was here, at university, not home.

It was safe here. No one would hurt her.

She took a deep breath, and her expression began to change as reality set in and the tension drained from her body.

Seeing Nari's expression, Bada's smile faltered, but she quickly regained her poise and said cheerfully, "It's just me, don't worry."

"Yeah, sorry," Nari said sheepishly, smiling at Bada. "I'm just...not used to people sneaking up on me."

Bada nodded and turned to face Nari, her concern rising as she noticed the bruise starting to form around her wrist.

"Nari, I've told you so many times, you can come to my apartment," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You can always come and live with me we can share-"

Nari shook her head, avoiding Bada's gaze. "No, it's alright," she insisted, but her words lacked confidence.

"It's not alright at all," Bada repeated firmly, "Nari, I'm worried about you."

Bada felt her frustration growing with each passing moment. She understood the difficult situation that Nari was going through at home, and it was awful.

However, her attempts to help were being rejected by Nari's hesitance to open up. Trying her best to remain calm, Bada found her patience slowly wearing thin.

Her desire to help her girlfriend was overwhelming, and she hoped and prayed that Nari would eventually come to her and share her troubles - at least then, Bada would be able to offer some much needed comfort.

"Leave it, Bada," Nari said, turning briefly from her work to look at Bada with irritation, her tone dismissive and adamant.

But Bada simply would not be deterred.

"I'm not leaving it," she said stubbornly. "Nari, you need help."

With her eyes pleadingly fixed on Bada, Nari begged desperately.

"Please, I can't leave Hana alone."

But Bada wouldn't have any of it. She took Nari's hands, holding them gently.

"You can take her too," Bada said, her tone full of genuine concern. "I don't care. We can figure it out. But you can't stay there by yourself."

Nari let out a breath of admiration as she took in her girlfriend's charming appearance. With her large glasses adding to the overall loveliness, her style was casual but cute as she wore an oversized T-shirt. She wanted desperately to accept Bada's offer, but to her, leaving Hana behind would be unthinkable.

She'd rather die than allow her little sister to suffer at the hands of that asshole.

"Im fine Bada really" She was really grateful for Bada's support, but her struggle was one that Nari felt she must fight alone.

Bada sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and nodding in understanding. She well knew Nari's stubbornness, and wouldn't push her too hard about the situation. She knew that Nari didn't like being pressured, and this time she let it go.

But sooner or later, they'd have to have the talk again, and Bada wouldn't give up so easily this time.

Bada's gaze fell on Nari's desk, her eyes glancing over the empty Red Bull cans and coffee cups strewn across the surface.

Taking her bag, she took out two sandwiches and set them down in front of Nari with a soft shrug.

"Don't even try," she said with a firm smile, "You need to eat. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

Nari's words prompted a small smile on Bada's face.

"You sound like my grandma, but I'm not hungry," she replied with a playful tilt of her head. "I have work."

Bada's glare was unmistakable, and she huffed, "You know our project isn't due for months, you don't need to overwork yourself."

"Okay, and?" Nari shrugged, remaining persistent even when Bada rolled her eyes.

"Making the designs and sewing takes way too long, and I want it to be perfect."

Bada let out a soft groan in response, shaking her head gently. This girl will never learn, she thought, amused. She leaned in and grabbed her ruler making the shorter girl whine

"Bada no give it to me" Nari tried to grab it but it was a fail, Bada smirked at her attempts

"Eat first"

"I'm not hungry, I swear" Nari objected, though with little conviction.

Bada wasn't buying it, and continued to press the issue, "I know you haven't had a proper meal all day...."

Bada wasn't buying it, and continued to press the issue.

"I know you haven't had a proper meal all day," she repeated with firmness, but Nari hadn't been listening. Instead, her eyes were drawn down to Bada's beautiful face, then slowly to her lips.

Nari leaned in, ready to give her girlfriend a quick kiss in the hopes that it would silence her for a while.

But as she leaned back to break away from the kiss, Bada refused, she grabbed her chin, pulling Nari back in for another tender moment, their lips meeting once again in a flurry of passion.

Nari felt her heart racing as her body tingled with heat as Bada's soft, passionate lips pressed firmly against her own.

She held her girlfriend's face, her hands tenderly caressing her cheeks, as Bada leaned forward and pressed her back against the wall.

In this moment, with her head spinning from the thrill of their kiss and their bodies together, she could think of nothing else but her

Nari bit her lip and Bada groaned, closing her eyes as they pulled apart yet remained close to each other.

"Stop distracting me," Bada said with a gentle frown. "Your amazing kiss doesn't negate the fact that you still need to eat."

"Damn it," Nari groaned, "I was so hoping it would make you forget, but I knew that was a long shot."

Bada chuckled softly as she ruffled the shorter girl's hair.

"I'll need more kisses for tha-"

Nari cut Bada off with another tender kiss, her lips pressing softly to the other girl's face and keeping her from continuing her sentence.

A mischievous grin spread across Bada's lips, and she couldn't help teasing her girlfriend further by pulling back and then leaning in and drawing Nari into another kiss.

The cycle repeated itself several times, with Bada teasing and Nari responding with a kiss, their lips connecting again and again, their embrace growing more intense and passionate with each passing moment.

After much pleading from Bada, Nari finally relented and ate, allowing their meal to be enjoyed in peace.

As the duo began eating and talking with laughter filling the air, Aeri watched from outside class smirking. With her phone cradled in her hands, she began walking away, her smirk

In her mind, Nari reflected that half of her day had gone well so far, especially due to Bada's presence.

Yet, as is often the case, her joy was tempered as the moment turned sour in an instant when she heard a loud crash as soon as she stepped into her house.

Racing to the living room, her vision grew red as the sight of her sister sobbing filled her with anguish, her emotions taking control and causing her heart to hurt from her younger sibling's pain.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Nari asked with genuine fury, moving towards her broken sister and ignoring any potential damage from the broken plate on the floor.

"She's a useless child!" her father yelled with a slurred voice "I asked her to make me food and all she fucking brought me was a piece of bread"

"She's only six, you bastard," Nari yelled back, her words punctuated by her father's drunken slurring.

"She's not even old enough to properly take care of herself, let alone make you a full meal."

"Don't you raise your voice at me, you little bitch," her father said forcefully, pointing his finger at Nari.

Nari knew that her words might anger the man before her, and the possibility of repercussions crossed her mind.

Yet, she found herself unable to care, and she stood her ground, her expression firm

"Go to your room," Nari whispered to her sister, attempting to comfort the young girl as she was still sobbing.

Hana shook her head, firmly refusing to comply with her sister's request.

"Hana, I said go."

Nari looked at her little sister, gently pushing her away and away "Please"

She knew that things would only get worse, so she didn't want Hana to see the ugliness of the situation.

Hana's eyes were filled with knowledge beyond her years, even as she was still so young.

Her heart was broken at the thought of leaving Nari all alone to face her father's wrath, but she knew that she had to go.

Without another word, her footsteps echoed off the stairs as she raced away, rushing into the sanctuary of her room.

Hana closed her door and buried her face in her pillow, her heart in knots as she tried to muffle the sound of her soft, frightened tears, as she listened to her fathers yells

"You'll never lay a hand on her ever again," Nari yelled, her anger taking over and making her voice boom like thunder.

"Im her father"

"I don't care" Nari continued, shaking her head

"I don't care," Nari said, trying her best to hold back her tears "A good father cares for and protects their children, he doesn't hurt and punish them"

She knew she shouldn't show her vulnerability in front of him, and she tried to stand strong while speaking her mind even as her emotions bubbled to the surface.

Her father paced around the room in agitation, his anger causing him to throw an empty beer can at the wall.

Nari flinched, her heart pounding at her father's anger

"You're a coward," Nari repeated, her words cutting into her father's pride in a way that nothing else could have.

She felt his hand sting her face the sensation of that slap was not new to her, as if her whole life had been leading up to that moment, but she continued to stand her ground and refused to cry

"No food for you and that little monster for a week," her father said, grabbing her face tightly.

Nari closed her eyes and braced herself for another slap, but it never came.

Instead, her father released his grip on her face, grabbing her bag and searching through it for money

Upon finding it, her father extracted her hard-earned funds from her wallet and threw her wallet back at her face

When she heard the front door close, Nari broke down, as tears spilled over her cheeks.

The weight of the world had seemed to be resting on her shoulders, and now that she was alone, she allowed herself to feel the full force of all the pain and sadness she had tried so hard to suppress.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men

Chapter 22

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[RING RING]

[RING RING]

[RING RING]

[RING RING]

[Hi!  Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now.  Please leave a message after the beep, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!]

[BEEP]

Law took a deep breath before speaking.  “Hi, baby, I just wanted to check in.  I know it’s really early there and you’re probably still sleeping, but good luck on your procedure today.  I… really wish I could be there.  I miss you a lot, I’m excited to come home in a few days.  Call me back when you get the chance, just so that I know you’re okay.  I love you.”

The solemn man tapped on the red disconnect button on his phone’s screen, hanging up on your voicemail box.  Beside him, Dr. Tony took a long sip of his beer, anxiously eyeing the expression of his superior.  Across the table from Law sat another older doctor from an institution a few cities away, one who had been a big fan of Law’s dissertation from medical school and insisted he treat the cardiac surgeon and his colleagues to a drink.  As soon as they began actually drinking, though, it became clear to Law that the large, scruffy looking doctor treating him to booze was a bit harder to deal with than he initially thought.  The more he drank, the more he ran his mouth.  

“Aw, come on, man!  You’ve been so uptight this whole week, I thought someone like you would be more than excited to attend this event and go drinking with some colleagues,” the man chided, his cheeks slightly flushed from his alcohol intake.

Law tossed a frustrated look at the man across from him, but it clearly didn’t land in the way he intended.  “Just a bit tired, I suppose.”

“Tired of calling your wife?” the man sneered.  “A man deserves to get away from the ole’ ball and chain every once in a while.  You might as well enjoy your freedom while you’re out of the country.”

Law’s jaw involuntarily clenched.  A million words of retaliation swirled through his head, but he didn’t have the gall to speak.  The last thing he wanted to do was make a scene, surrounded by esteemed colleagues who were all looking forward to a night out drinking after a successful conference day.  The black-haired man simply crossed his arms and uncomfortably eyed the barely-touched beer in front of him.

“That woman of your’s is probably sick of you calling her all the time, anyway.  Is she making you do that?” he asked.

Chopper reached a hand out, nervously trying to stop the man across from them from talking.  “Dr. Teach, let’s be civil, now.”

Another swig of beer slipped past the larger man’s chapped lips.  He slammed down his glass with another snide remark.  “Can’t be civil when you’ve got a man being held back by some woman at home.  You can’t let her control you like that, you’ve got to be a man.”

Law’s fists clenched the fabric of his shirt as he felt his face heating up with humiliation.  “I’m going to ask you one time to be quiet.”

The man, Dr. Marshall Teach, curled his lips in a sneer.  “Aw, you getting defensive?”

“If you wanted to treat myself and my colleague to a round of drinks, I would appreciate it if you could keep your unnecessary comments to a minimum,” Law affirmed.  He was inwardly impressed with how he managed to keep his voice so steady despite the rapid pounding of his heart.  He felt his hands grow clammy with discomfort.

Teach shrugged.  “Sorry that you’ve found yourself prey to a bitc–”

Law stood up with such ferocity that the sound of his chair scooting across the hard wooden floor alerted the tables around him, surprised and curious eyes darting in his direction.  With a scowl, he grabbed his bag, stepping around the table to make a quick exit.  Before he passed by Teach, however, he stopped dead in his tracks and leered down at the man.  “Don’t expect any more cordial behavior from me this week.  I never want to hear from you again.”

Before the rude older man was able to retort and get the last word, Law finally stepped away from the table and left the restaurant.  His legs were shaking as he rounded the corner of the building and stepped into a dimly lit alleyway, the setting sun casting a large shadow over the structure and making the corridor appear darker than the rest of the world.  A perfect shroud for Law to sink into a crouching position against the brick wall, his bag at his feet as he wrapped his hands around his knees.

Pathetic.

Law felt his stomach twist uncomfortably, his hands growing even more clammy as he fought with his heart rate to get it to settle.  His mind was reeling with thoughts, insecurities.  He felt like he was going to be sick.  How was a man as esteemed as him having a panic attack in a back alley behind a bar?

“Law?” a soft voice called from around the corner.

The black-haired man picked his head up in surprise, facing the voice.  A head of thick, bushy brown hair and gentle, black, doe-like eyes greeted him.

“Chopper… need something?” he asked, keeping his voice low to prevent it from trembling.

The younger doctor stepped closer, copying Law’s posture by crouching down himself so he could be at the same level as his superior.  “Just wanted to make sure you were okay… do you want to head back to the hotel?”

“Is anyone else going?” Law asked, mild skepticism in his eyes.

“Nope, just me,” the brunette man responded.  “I barely had anything to drink, anyway.  Bars aren’t really my scene.”

Law slowly stood up along with his younger colleague, grabbing his bag from the cold ground and following Chopper out of the alley, rounding the corner and proceeding down the street.  The two walked in silence for around 20 minutes before they finally reached their hotel, a very fine establishment that was selected by their employers for their week-long stay in the Flower Capital.  The place was far more lavish than anything Law had stayed in before, but frankly, the expensive decor and fancy lights were nothing if not unsettling for him in his upset state.  He followed Chopper into the elevator, the two ascending in silence to the 10th floor, watching as the numbers on the control panel slowly ticked upward.  Their walk through the hall was so silent you could hear their footsteps slightly echoing off of the plaster walls around them.  Chopper inserted his keycard into their room’s door, pushing the heavy entrance open and stepping inside, Law on his heels.

Once they were safely in their room, Law released the frustrated groan he had been holding in.  He quickly undid the buttons of his dress shirt, ripping it off of him and falling backwards onto the bed that he designated as his.  Chopper watched with concern on his soft features, sitting on his own mattress.

“I’m sorry about what Teach said to you,” the younger man said.

“Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault,” Law mumbled back, staring at the ceiling.  The air of their hotel room was quite chilly and made goosebumps appear on his inked skin, but it was far better than his anxious perspiration that was going on under the stifling fabric of his dress shirt.

“I know it wasn’t, but I’m still sorry,” Chopper responded, awkwardly hugging his knees.  “I think it’s sweet that you’re calling your wife so often.  I’m sure she really appreciates it.”

Law bit the inside of his cheek.  He had kept your infertility struggles a secret from the rest of his colleagues at the hospital, choosing instead to say that he was taking care of you through an acute illness whenever he used his personal time off.  No one had ever questioned it, perhaps being too afraid to provoke the steely, constantly-focused doctor, but whatever the reason, Law was relieved that he never had to explain himself.  His current behavior was far beyond the realm of what Chopper had ever seen of him, drastically out of character from the hard-working doctor the younger man was surely used to.

“Chopper, can I tell you something?” Law asked, feeling immensely awkward for divulging his problems to a colleague who seemed so much younger than him.

“Of course,” Chopper replied.

Law sat up on his elbows, gazing at his feet at the end of the bed.  “My wife has been struggling with infertility.  We’ve been trying for well over a year now to have a baby, with no success yet.  She’s had two miscarriages, the second one at 12 weeks.”  His voice was quiet as he spoke, clearly upset with reliving the memory of seeing you tied to the hospital bed in the emergency room, the way your face was scrunched up with agony, humiliation, and shame.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” the younger man sympathized.  

Law took a deep breath.  “She’s been undergoing treatment to prepare for IVF, and today, back home anyway, is the day she gets her eggs harvested.  I’ve been so, so fucking nervous for her.  Excuse my language.”

“So that’s why you’ve been calling and texting her a bunch?” Chopper asked, slightly tilting his head as he listened to his older colleague.

“Yeah.  And unlike that prick Teach, I like to think I have a much healthier relationship with her.”  Law scoffed, relaying the words the older man had spoken to him over their drinks.  “Ball and chain, my ass.  The day I refer to my wife like that is the day I die by my own hand.”

Chopper sighed, wanting to apologize yet again for the older doctor’s behavior, but deciding against it.  Law’s words sparked a hint of curiosity in the younger man, however, as he gazed at the ink covering his coworker’s hands, arms, chest, and back.  “Law, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Not at all,” the black-haired surgeon responded.

“It always struck me as interesting that you have the word ‘DEATH’ tattooed on your fingers.  Have you ever been… told off for that?”

Chopper’s words prompted Law to gaze at the ink on his skin.  He huffed through his nose at the memory, his friends as an 18-year-old undergraduate adamantly insisting that he shouldn’t get morbid tattoos if he was going to pursue a career in life-saving medical care, but clearly their words didn’t stick.

“All the time,” he replied.  “I got my tattoos done over the course of a few years while I was an undergrad.  I was going through a lot at that time, and funneled my frustrations into getting ink.”

“Is there a reason you chose ‘DEATH’?”  Chopper had absolutely zero idea if he was crossing the line or not, but based on Law’s somewhat relaxed body language, he safely assumed that he was still in the clear with his questions.

Law pursed his lips.  “I lost my family in a house fire when I was around 10, and the man who took me in and raised me was killed by his older brother when I was 13, so for the duration of my teenage years, death was all I thought about.”

Chopper’s eyebrows creased with melancholy.  “I’m so sorry…”

Law relaxed his arms and fell back onto his mattress once more.  “I kept going for my parents, they were both doctors and I grew up wanting to follow in their footsteps.  And for most of my time in high school and then in college, I was convinced I was too hardened to be loved.”

The younger brunette felt a small smile tug on his lips.  “But then you met your wife.”

The words made the black-haired man grin.  “Yup… then I met my wife.  But I already had the tattoos when I met her, so it was a bit too late for that.”

“I’m sorry you can’t be home with her… but I’m sure she really does appreciate the fact that you’re constantly checking in on her.  If my husband was halfway across the world, I’d want to hear from him as often as I could, too,” Chopper stated, his voice light and airy.

Law stared at the ceiling.  Chopper was the kind of kid whose presence made you relax.  His openness and understanding of complex topics and issues was a quality that made Law gravitate towards taking him under his wing, endlessly impressed with the ease in which the boy sympathized and offered boundless support for patients, colleagues, and family who visited the hospital.  Even the most upset patients were treated with the utmost respect from the young doctor, his very existence making any tension or unease flow from the body in waves.

“Thanks, Chopper, I appreciate it,” Law stated.  “Sorry to spill all that on you.”

“It’s never a problem, Law, I’m always happy to talk about stuff that might be troubling you.  As a friend, rather than strictly a coworker.”  Chopper swung his legs off the side of his bed.  “I’m going to take a shower, try to get some shut-eye, alright?”  The younger colleague tossed a friendly smile to Law, who nodded graciously.

The bathroom door closed with a soft click, leaving Law alone on his bed in the warm light of the bedside lamp.  He reached toward his phone intent on checking his text messages, but as soon as he picked it up in his hand, the screen lit up with an incoming call.

Wifey

A grin tugged on Law’s lips.  “Hello?”

[Hi, baby!  I’m sorry I missed your call…]  Your voice was groggy with sleep, and some shuffling could be heard in the background.  You must have still been in bed.

“It’s alright, you were sleeping,” Law replied, his voice soft.  “I wouldn’t want you to wake up for me, especially not on such an important day.  You need all the rest you can get.”

A soft hum echoed through the speakers.  [You’re right… but I love hearing your voice.]  Your words were silky smooth, making your husband smile even wider as he imagined the sleepy look on your face, your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion as a beautiful, fatigued smile pulled on your lips.  He imagined curling closer to you, pulling your body into his own and inhaling the soft scent of your soap and moisturizer, wishing he could carry around your aroma in a bottle for whenever he wanted to think of you.

“How are you feeling about today?” he asked.

[Really, really nervous.  But we all have a plan.]  Your shaky response made Law’s heart clench, but he waited patiently for you to continue talking.  [I go in at 9 AM for the procedure.  Penguin is driving me, because I don’t trust Shachi’s car, but Shachi and Ikkaku are going to stay at the apartment with Bepo.  The procedure is going to take only, like, ten or so minutes, so I requested to have local anesthesia so I don’t have to be all groggy for the day.  So it’ll probably hurt a bit, but I’m tough.  I can deal.]

Law chuckled.  “You are tough.”  He wanted to say something else, perhaps sing your praises even more, but his insecurities from earlier flooded back into his head.  “Hey… can I ask you something?”

[Of course, baby.  Anything.]

“Are you…” he searched the crevices of his mind for the proper words.  “Are you annoyed with me when I call too often?”

The line was silent for a few moments too many.  [Why would I be annoyed?]

The man rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers.  “I don’t know… I had a weird conversation over drinks tonight and I’m overthinking it.”

He could hear you audibly sigh.  [I absolutely, one hundred percent, do NOT think you’re annoying.  I get so excited whenever you call.  When you called me yesterday when I was at Nami’s, she poked fun at me for lighting up when you called.  She said it looked like I was glowing.]

Law smiled at the thought.  Before he could continue speaking, though, you took a breath.

[I would never be annoyed with you, ever.  If anything, I wish you could call more, but I know you have your big important responsibilities while you’re over there.]  Your voice was uplifting, encouraging.  Law’s chest felt lighter simply by listening to you talk.  Oh, the power you held.  [When you come home, I’m going to smother you in so many kisses to make up for whatever asshole made you feel shitty.]

“I’d love that, baby,” Law sighed into the receiver.  “I miss you… I don’t think I’m cut out for long business trips.”

[You only have three more days, you can do it!]

Law had an image in his head of you excitedly pumping the air with your fist, your eyes bright and shining as you encouraged him to keep his head up and continue pushing forward with the incredible reward of returning home to your arms.

[And hey, when you come home, we’ll have a bunch of microscopic eggs in a petri dish at the fertility clinic hopefully being fertilized.]

Law’s heart swelled at the mere thought of tiny embryos growing to hopefully be successfully implanted into you.  The process of preparing for the procedure had been so long to him and he couldn’t even begin to comprehend how you must have felt in the weeks leading up, but the way you had managed to stay strong through the entire duration was profoundly inspirational to him.  You were truly one special woman.

[I’m going to get up and take Bepo out, but I’ll text you throughout the day to tell you how things went!  Oh, and Law?]

“Yes, baby?”

[Don’t lose sleep over me.  I can somehow see those eyebags through the phone.  I promise I’m going to be okay, so get some rest, alright?]

Law smirked.  You knew him far too well.  “No promises.”

[Law…]

He sighed, a chuckle escaping his lungs.  “Okay, I promise I’ll get some sleep.  My hotel roommate’s in the shower right now, but when he’s done I’m going to clean myself up and get some rest.  I’ll talk to you later, baby.”

He could hear the smile on your voice as you responded.  [I love you, Law.]

“I love you, too, beautiful.”

—

“Shachi and Penguin are pussies,” Ikkaku groaned, crossing her arms over her chest in the chair that sat across from your small pre-op bed.  “Afraid of some women’s health matters…”

You giggled at her frustration.  “Well, I’m really happy that you were able to take today off and help me out, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course!”  Ikkaku flashed you a charming, toothy grin.  “Anything for my bestie.  Besides, from what I read online, you’re gonna need some support to help deal with the pain.”

“It shouldn’t hurt that bad… they’re giving me local anesthesia, so I’ll only feel a little bit.  At least, I hope that’s the case,” you replied with a nervous shudder.  “You won’t have to deal with a loopy post-op me.  Last time I had a procedure done, Law told me I didn’t stop gushing over him for almost six hours.”  Your head fell into your hands, embarrassment painting your face.

Ikkaku laughed at your shameful state.  “You can still tell me how much you love me while completely sober, though, right?”

You flashed her a cheeky grin.  “Don’t test your luck.”

You struggled to admit it, but you were wildly anxious.  The last time you talked to Law was when you returned his call a few hours prior, and thinking about him halfway across the world, probably (hopefully) fast asleep in preparation for another day of conferences was reassuring, but you had a residual ache in your heart that yearned for him to be with you.  The weeks of synchronizing your cycle and taking hormone injections to mature your eggs was a long, boring, and tedious process, but it was all leading up to this very moment.  

Now you just had to hope that some of your eggs were mature enough to fertilize… if they would fertilize at all.

“Mrs. Trafalgar?”  A nurse stepped into your room with a clipboard, a few sheets of paper attached to the metal clamp.  “I just need to have you sign a few forms and then we’ll take you in!”

You took the board and the pen from her grasp, wiping your hands on your hospital gown to rid your palms of your nervous sweat.  You signed the release forms with a few quick strokes of your pen before handing the papers back to the nurse who happily took them from you.

“Alright, you’re all set!  The doctor will be in shortly to take you back,” she explained before cordially nodding towards you and exiting the room.

Your foot was bouncing off the mattress.  “Ahh… Ika… I’m so nervous.”

Ikkaku stood from her chair, crossing the room to be at your side.  She rubbed her hand over your shoulder, her expression sympathetic yet encouraging.  “You’re gonna do great, you’ll be in and out!  10 minutes, just like you said!”

“But what if my eggs aren’t mature?  I’ll hear if they are before we leave…”  You could feel your heart rate increase at the prospect of all your hard work in the past few weeks being for nothing.

“Hey, look at me,” Ikkaku demanded, her voice soft.  She took your cheeks in her hands, turning your head to face her.  “No negative thinking.  Your eggs are probably more mature than an elderly person!”

You snorted, making her pull her hands away quickly and wipe them on her shirt.  “That’s the comparison you make?”

“Geriatric eggs,” she confirmed, smirking at you.  “But seriously, you’re going to be fine.  I have a good feeling.  And after you’re back here and the anesthesia is wearing off and we find out that your eggs are nice and mature, we’ll go and celebrate with some ice cream.”

Your mouth began watering at the prospect.  “That does sound pretty good…”

“Exactly!  So keep your chin up!”  Ikkaku excitedly pumped her fists in the air, a sight that made your lips crack into a smile as you absorbed the excited, optimistic energy from your best friend.

“Knock, knock, Mrs. Trafalgar, are you ready?”  The doctor overseeing your egg extraction peeked his head in.

You swung your legs over the side of your bed, holding the back of your gown closed with one of your hands.  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good luck!”  Ikkaku called as you followed the doctor into the small outpatient operating room.  

You were starting to really dislike the feeling of paper and polyester clinic gowns, they way they were completely shapeless and stiff on your skin made you feel particularly vulnerable.  You would much rather be naked to the open air than don a hospital gown, but you also quite liked not being locked up in jail.  You bit down your discomfort and entered the small outpatient procedure room where you were instructed to lay back on the table and put your feet in the stirrups.  You stared emotionless at the tiled ceiling, the bright white LED lights making your pupils constrict.  You simply nodded through the nurses’ instructions and comments, quietly letting them insert an IV needle into your arm for fluids.

“We’re going to be using a local anesthetic that will be injected near the top of your vagina, and an ultrasound will be running to assist with locating your ovarian follicles,” the doctor explained, displaying the capped needle in his hand.  “This procedure will only be around 10 to 15 minutes, but throughout the duration we will be injecting additional small doses of a low-level narcotic pain reliever so make sure you don’t experience any discomfort.  Does that sound good?”

You gave a curt nod.  “Yes it does.”

“Perfect.  Please inform us if you feel any large amounts of pain, or any discomfort outside of your pelvic region.”  The doctor turned his back on you, and your eyes resumed staring at the ceiling, your hands over your chest resting directly above your heart.

You felt a small pinch near your core that made you wince, but you kept your body still and tried to focus on your breathing.  It didn’t take long for sensation in your hips and pelvis to dull, a strange, numb tingling sensation replacing any contact from the hospital gown pushed up around your waist.  It certainly felt… strange.  An additional small pinch was felt in the junction of your inner thigh, and a technician spread a generous amount of the familiar, cold ultrasound gel over your lower abdomen before placing the wand firmly against your belly and locating your ovaries through your layers of skin and muscle.

“We’re inserting the speculum now,” the doctor explained, making sure to keep you in the know of what exactly they were doing to you.

You kept quiet.  A tugging sensation was felt in your lower body as the cold, metal speculum spread you open, but the anesthesia and pain relievers made it much more tolerable than any pap smear you had ever received.  You kept your hands placed over your chest, linking your fingers together as if to secure yourself to the table.

“You might feel a sharper pain, we’re inserting the suction cannula and needle into your vagina.”

“Alright,” you replied, feeling too awkward to stay silent.

Sure enough, a much sharper yet still manageable cramping pain was felt as the suction tube and needle were inserted.  You cringed as you felt them press sharply against the wall of your vagina, a sudden, stinging sensation radiating through your body as the needle punctured your inner walls and located your ovarian follicles with the help of the ultrasound machine.  You sucked in a sharp breath, alerting one of the nurses.

“Doing alright, hun?” she asked, approaching your side.  She was a much older woman, clearly a seasoned nurse, with a few small decorative enamel pins around the collar of her cotton uniform scrubs.  She had a soft, motherly face as she gazed at you, her eyes assessing your condition.

“Y-Yeah… just a bit painful,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“We’ll give you another small dose of pain medication,” she confirmed, tossing you a sweet smile that melted any insecurity in your heart.  “You’re doing amazing, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but smile back.  Something about her seemed to fill the room with a sense of comfort despite having only known her for a mere few seconds.  You barely felt the second injection of painkillers in your other thigh, your body slowly growing numb to the sensation of the cannula pressing harshly against your vaginal walls.  The nurse came around the table again and rubbed your shoulder reassuringly.

“Still hanging in there, dear?”

“Yes, I am,” you nodded, speaking in a tired tone.  “Thank you.”

Her response to your gratuity was another pat on your shoulder.  You closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing to distract from the dull cramping that radiated throughout your lower body.  It felt eerily similar to your miscarriages, with the only comfort in the thought being that you were in a supervised medical environment.  Your thoughts shifted to your husband across the world from you.  It was an understatement to say that you couldn’t wait for him to get home.  You two had barely been without each other since you started dating, and while some have said that your shared lifestyle is only a recipe for relationship burnout, the two of you would adamantly disagree with that sentiment.  Law was a rock, a stable sanctuary for your deepest and darkest fears, whereas you were a shining light in his life, bringing him hope when his days seemed to be at their bleakest.  What some would call extreme codependency, you would simply call a healthy and mutually respectful relationship with your beloved husband.

God, you missed him.

“And we’re all done!” the doctor announced, ripping you from your thoughts.

“Already?” you asked, picking your head up as the nurse helped your partially numb feet down from your stirrups.

“Yup!  We’re sending your samples to the lab to count how many eggs we were able to harvest, so while you wait for a bit in recovery we’ll get to counting,” he explained, taking off his gloves and washing his hands in the sink placed across the room.

The friendly nurse from earlier gave you a gentle pat on your shoulder once more.  “You did so well, dear!”  She assisted with helping you stand from the table.  A pair of disposable panties were handed to you, lined with a thick pad.  “You’re probably going to have some light spotting for a few days, you can take these off and replace them with your normal underwear and pads when you get home.  Don’t use tampons for about two weeks while your vagina recovers, alright?”

You graciously accepted her help with stepping into the uncomfortable clothing.  “Understood.”

You were more than wobbly on your feet, the localized anesthesia making you somewhat dizzy, so you were helped into a foldable wheelchair to push you back to the small outpatient recovery room where Ikkaku was still waiting for you.  She stood enthusiastically from her seat when you and the nurse approached, a look of sheer anticipation in her eyes.

“How did it go?” she asked, helping you stand to lay down on the small, stiff mattress.

“I think it went pretty well,” you replied, finally getting to rest your head on a pillow with a content sigh.

The nurse turned toward your friend.  “I take it, you're her ride?”

“Yes, ma’am!” the curly-haired brunette nodded.  “Is there anything I should be aware of for home?”

“Make sure she’s drinking plenty of water and getting as much rest as she can.  It might take a few hours for the feeling to come back in her legs.”  She turned to you.  “You’ll probably experience a few days of cramping, ibuprofen is more than enough to get you through it!  If you experience any significant complications or issues, though, please call us back right away.”

You gave her a polite smile.  “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course, sweetheart, it's my pleasure.  The doctor will come back when your eggs are counted, and you should be good to leave then, but he’ll give you the discharge paperwork himself when he feels you’re ready.”  With a friendly nod, she exited the room and closed the door slightly behind her, leaving it cracked open enough to give you and Ikkaku privacy until the doctor came back.

“So…” she asked.  “Did it hurt?”

You laughed at her willingness to know the details.  “A little, they stuck this suction tube up inside of me and a needle was pushed through that tube into my vaginal wall.”

Ikkaku held her hand out, a grimace on her face making her eyebrows crease in discomfort.  “Alright, that’s enough talking from you.”

You shared a giggle at her weary expression.  Once your conversation had simmered, you asked her for your phone so you could send a text to Law and let him know that you were in the recovery room waiting for your eggs to be counted.  You tapped the send button and put your phone to sleep mode, knowing that he most likely wouldn’t respond to you for another few hours while he was sleeping.  But the thought of him waking up to a positive text from you made your heart flutter.  You knew he probably needed it, his voice sounded so tired when you called him back earlier that morning.  An entire week of medical conferences and meetings with high-ranking colleagues from across the world would be enough to send anyone into an exhaustion coma, and the first thing you wanted to do when he arrived home was run him a nice bath, maybe light a nice candle, and cuddle him until he suffocated.  With love, of course.

Almost 30 minutes of you and Ikkaku sitting in silence on your phones passed by before the doctor came back into your room with your discharge papers and a smile on his face.  “Mrs. Trafalgar, we successfully extracted 12 eggs.  7 of them are mature enough for fertilization, which will begin as soon as we get your samples to the lab.”

Ikkaku beamed at you.  “That’s amazing!”

You stood from your bed, your legs still fairly wobbly from the anesthesia, and signed the discharge papers that the doctor held.  You gave him a fond smile.  “Thank you so much.”

“Never a problem, I wish you all the best.  Remember to call your usual clinic or us if you have any issues in recovery.  Have an amazing day, ladies!”  He held the clipboard with your papers firmly under his arm before nodding his head and leaving, keeping the door held open so you could leave whenever.

You took one step forward and almost immediately stumbled to the ground, Ikkaku scrambling for your arms to hold you upright.  She looked panicked.

“Are you alright?” she asked, helping you lean against the end of the table.

You laughed under your breath.  “I think my legs are still weak from the numbing stuff they gave me… might need to bring me to your car in a wheelchair.”

She gave you a mock salute and ran to a nurse’s station, returning with a small foldable wheelchair similar to the one you were put in immediately after your procedure.  She wheeled you out to her car to take you home, cracking ‘grandma’ jokes along the way as if you were a nursing home patient being wheeled to the park.

For the first time in what felt like a millennia, your chest felt light.

A dozen eggs in a basket… or in your case, a petri dish.

[seungminsbaldspot]

Impenetrable - Chapter Three

Paring: Hybrid/Poly BTS x reader

Series Link: Impenetrable Masterlist

Word Count:

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death and killing

Taglist: Open

Notes: If you wanna join the taglist, comment and I will get it sorted for you!

IMPORTANT (PLEASE READ)

Prev / Next

Recap:

What now?" he asks, breaking the momentary silence. "Even if the pack decides to let you stay, Eanses won't take kindly to your failure."

You look down, “Death is really my only option here. Sounds gruesome but I am nothing to them, just some spendable life.”

The conversation is interrupted by the door swinging open. It’s Alpha. “The pack wants to meet you.”

Min Yoongi smiles, “I knew that this was gonna happen.” You tilt your head to the side, “Already? Are they not suspicious or like you know? Scared? I mean I was literally was sent here to kill them if needed?”

Min Yoongi's smile carries a hint of amusement, and he replies, "The pack has a way of sensing things. They can feel intentions, even hidden ones. And they've seen their fair share of threats. It takes more than a hidden assassin to make them cower."

You ponder his words, Their heightened senses and instincts seem to grant them an understanding that surpasses the ordinary. The dynamics within the pack hold mysteries that you're only beginning to grasp.

"But don't mistake their curiosity for acceptance," Min Yoongi adds, his expression more serious. "You're still on thin ice. Your past with Eanses won't be easily overlooked, and trust isn't something they give away freely." Right.

Alpha and MIn Yoongi lead you downstairs where the remaining five packmates are sitting in various places in the living room. Looking around you recognize them as the nicknames that You’ve given them.

Tall Guy is sitting beside Happy on the couch. Happy seems to be rather nervous, while Tall Guy is very calm - too calm. Tall Guy is seemingly comforting Happy. Tiger and Dog are sitting together on the other end of the couch that Tall Guy and Happy are sitting on. Strong Guy is sitting on the plush chair near the couch. Alpha and Min Yoongi lead you to another chair, but this one is wooden, and it’s sat in front of the Television. Yoongi stands beside the chair, motioning for you to sit, and you do. Alpha leaves and sits on the armrest of the plush chair that Strong Guy is sitting on.

As you sit in the wooden chair, surrounded by the pack, you can feel their collective gaze upon you. The room remains quiet, the unspoken tension thickening. The pack's judgment awaits, and you brace yourself for the questions, scrutiny, or decisions that may come.

“Sitting here, I just realized none of us have said our names, not even you.” Alpha pointed at you. Your eyes widen, “I’m y/n.” You introduce, Knowing that you were going to have to go first anyway. Min Yoongi nods, “I’m Yoongi, but I’m sure you already knew that.” He snickered.

“My name is Namjoon. And I’m the Alpha of this pack.” Bingo, You were right. You nod, “Jungkook” He nods curtly in awkwodledgemnt “I’m Seokjin. This is Hoseok.” Tall Guy or well Seokjin says and points to Happy, who you now know as Hoseok. “Taehyung.” Tiger says, very monotonely. Dog shakes his head, “Sorry about him, He’s in one of his moods, I’m Jimin.” Alpha, Or Namjoon as you should start to refer to him as, Nods.

“Great. Now that the introductions are over, We can get into what we all want to know.” Namjoon states, and the pack's collective attention sharpens. The room falls into a focused hush as Namjoon's words hang in the air. The pack's collective attention centers on you, and the weight of anticipation intensifies.

Namjoon, maintaining a composed demeanor, breaks the silence. "Why were you sent to kill Min Yoongi, and who sent you?"

The directness of Namjoon's inquiry cuts through the tension, and all eyes are on you, awaiting your response.

You sigh, only due to the fact that this is like the fifth time having to explain this to this pack. “As I have stated, I was taken to a hybrid lab.” You proceed to recount the familiar tale of your creation in the hybrid lab, the genetic manipulation, conditioning, and training that shaped you into an obedient and lethal being. The story unfolds, revealing the involvement of Eanses, their interest in your abilities, and the mission to eliminate Min Yoongi.

The pack listens attentively, their expressions ranging from curiosity to suspicion. The complexity of your past and the forces that have shaped you become clearer with each word you speak.

Namjoon remains stoic, his gaze unwavering as he absorbs the details of your story. The room remains silent as you conclude your explanation, leaving the pack to process the truth of your origins and the mission that brought you to their doorstep.

Namjoon breaks the silence, his voice measured, "Why did you choose to deviate from the mission? What made you hide among us instead of carrying out your orders?"

You meet Namjoon's gaze, aware that this question delves into the motivations that led to your unexpected deviation. “I couldn’t allow myself to fuck up a happy family.”

Your response echoes in the room, and a moment of quiet contemplation follows. The sincerity in your words carries the weight of your internal struggle and the unexpected bond that formed with the pack during your observation.

Namjoon's gaze lingers on you, and there's a flicker of understanding in his eyes. The pack members exchange glances, their expressions reflecting a mix of emotions, from skepticism to a subtle acknowledgment of the complexities that surround your existence.

Namjoon breaks the silence, "Deviation from a mission is a serious matter, and we can't ignore the potential threat you might still pose. However, we also recognize the choices you've made and the risks you've taken by revealing your past. Trust is not given lightly, but we'll deliberate on what's best for the pack."

Yoongi taps your shoulder, “Let’s go back to the room.” Following Yoongi's lead, you rise from the wooden chair, acutely aware of the lingering tension in the room. As you move with him towards the exit, a whimper from the couch captures your attention. Yoongi reassures the pack, waving his hand dismissively, "I'll be fine. You all already know where I stand."

The pack members exchange glances, their expressions hinting at the internal deliberation still taking place. The atmosphere remains charged with uncertainty, but you follow Yoongi out of the room, leaving the pack to continue their discussions.

Yoongi and you walk out of the room, and the tension from the pack's criticism follows. There's a hanging feeling about their decision, the weight of their considerations. The room's relative seclusion, away from the pack's questioning gaze brings you comfort.

Yoongi closes the door behind you, momentarily shielding the two of you from the outside world. The room turns into a calm refuge, providing a brief break from the complex dynamics taking place inside the pack.

Yoongi leans against the door, his expression unreadable. "We'll have to wait for their decision. Whatever happens, you need to be prepared for the consequences. The pack doesn't take these matters lightly." You could only nod.

Meanwhile, with the pack, the discussion of you was only getting started. “Is she not a threat to us? To Yoongi?” Taehyung grimaces. Namjoon

Namjoon, maintaining his role as the Alpha, addresses the pack, "Her past with Eanses is undoubtedly a cause for concern. However, she chose to reveal herself and explain her deviation from the mission. We need to consider her actions and the risks she took by doing so."

Tall Guy, or Seokjin, interjects, "She mentioned she couldn't allow herself to 'fuck up a happy family.' If she had ill intentions, she could have acted long before now."

The pack members exchange glances, each processing the information and weighing the potential risks and benefits of your presence among them.

Hoseok, or Happy, chimes in nervously, "But what if it's a trick? We can't let our guard down." Hoseok's nervous tone reflects a valid concern among the pack. The uncertainty surrounding your true intentions raises doubts and wariness among the members.

Namjoon, maintaining his Alpha role, addresses the pack with a measured tone, "Remaining cautious is essential. We can't afford to underestimate the potential risks. However, we also need to consider the choices she made, and the risks she took to reveal her past. It's not a decision to be made lightly."

"If she wanted to harm us, she's had plenty of opportunities. Maybe she’s being truthful?." Jimin says. Jungkook scoffs. “I think that’s your border collie side showing.” He grumbles out. Namjoon maintains his Alpha authority, "We can't dismiss the potential dangers, but Jimin has a point. If she wanted to harm, she's had opportunities. We need to weigh the information carefully before making a decision."

Seokjin sighs, “I think we should keep her. If we don’t she goes back to Eanses and gets killed.” He states calmly. Taehyung almost growls, “And if she stays, they come to us.” He argues. Namjoon takes a moment to weigh the options. "We need to be realistic about the risks involved. If we decide to keep her, we should be prepared for the consequences and take necessary precautions." The pack remains silent.

“So are we taking a vote?” Hoseok asks. Namjoon nods, “All in favor of letting her go back to Eanses, raise your hand.” Namjoon says, raising his hand. Jungkook and Taehyung both raise their hands. Namjoon counts, “Okay all who want her to stay.” Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin raise their hands. Jungkook scoffs, “So it’s a tie?” Seokjin shakes his head, “No. Yoongi wants her to stay too. Four vs Three. She’s staying.”

Taglist: @sophiaj650 @danielle143 @sweet-nothings467 @todorokikettlephobia @multi-fandomposts @cathy1514 @loumin908 @yooxverse @majesticbangtanot7 @famousdelusionobservation (idk why this tag isn't tagging im so sorry) @amimami1991 @deepestfacedevil

[be-with-me-so-happily]

There At The Box

ONE SHOT

|| Prev - The Grammys ||

Summary: After reuniting at the Grammys, it is now time for the Brit awards, where Harry has been nominated for four. He has invited YN to join him, and she will do whatever it takes to be there for him, as long as she can make it.

A/N: Finally got this out, over a week later. But it's here. Legitimately didn't think there'd be a part 2, but how could I not when our boy won 4 for 4 Brits?!?!

Warnings: Some explicit language, airport troubles, alcohol consumption

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"I'm sorry Ms. YLN, but we had to delay the flight."

You pinch the bridge of your nose, doing your best to take deep breaths and not completely lose it on this innocent attendant.

"How long will it take?"

"I'm…not entirely sure. It could potentially take a couple of hours…"

"This isn't happening." You mumble, throwing your face down into your palms as you sit there, helpless, in your seat on the airplane. "Diana, Peter, can you do anything? Please tell me you can do something."

Your manager and assistant give each other worried looks and it makes your heart sink.

Unfortunately, you had a prior commitment earlier in the day in Edinburgh, but told him that you would fly out as soon as it was done. You planned to have your outfit, plus hair and makeup teams, there on board with you and head straight to the venue from the airport. Everything seemed to be scheduled out nicely and going accordingly. Until now, that is. Because the jet you had managed to rent seems to be having some sort of mechanical issue, and is keeping you from being exactly where you want to be. Right by Harry.

You just got back with Harry, practically six days ago. He somehow, through the magic that comes from him being Harry Styles, managed to get you a seat at his table for The Brits. You were so honored, and happy, and excited that he wanted you there with him, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

"We're working on it, YN."

"There's just not much-" Peter gets interrupted by a swift elbow to his side by Diana.

"We're working on it."

You're never a diva, at least you try your hardest not to be, but this is the one moment you wish you had the capacity to demand that everything gets fixed and figured out so that you can get what you want.

"I know you're trying." You sigh. "Just… let me down easy once you know for sure."

You stand as best you can on the airplane, while your stylist zips up your dress and your makeup artist applies things to your face during commercial breaks.

Everyone around you is already buzzing over Harry's first win of the night, for Best Pop Act, when Peter begins to hush them down and turn up the volume on the television. It's the second award Harry's nominated for, and you're already on the edge of your nerves.

"So the Brit Awards goes to…" Lucien Laviscourt begins, asking his co-star for a drumroll as he opens the envelope. "The man that just does not stop. Harry Styles."

The camera shows Harry's head drop and a wide grin immediately appear on his face. He yells a little 'lets go' as he stands up and makes his way to the stage. You can tell his emotions are already building as he looks down at his second award.

"Umm, thank you again. Umm… I wanna start by, umm, I wanna thank my family for being the most supportive, understanding, patient, loving, umm, family that I could've ever asked for."

He goes on to thank his mum, and the crowd goes wild when he mentions the other members of One Direction. As if you weren't already gutted to be missing out, that part pains you. To be there in that moment would be absolutely thrilling, and if it were not now safely carrying you and your team to the destination you so desperately want to be at, you'd be cursing the plane for making you late.

"I'm really, really grateful for this and I'm very aware of my privilege up here tonight, so this award is for Rina, Charley, Florence, Mabel, and Becky. Thank you so much."

Your eyes water as he mentions his 'privilege' and honors the women who were looked over for nominations in that category. If ever there were to be someone, other than one of them, to win, of course it should be him. He is such an ally, and supporter, and even though you don't feel as if he should apologize for winning, your heart is so warmed at how humble he is. How willing he is to give the spotlight to someone else.

The group cheers on for the next few awards, and you join in when Wet Leg wins their second. Shouts ring out when Harry wins this third Brit award for Song of the Year.

With each win, or even glimpse you get of Harry, your heart is torn further into two. You're so proud of him, and happy for him, but you are also simultaneously filling up with guilt that you can't be alongside him, or even just in the room, to support him. You know he won't be mad. You know it's not your fault, and he will understand. But you can't stop it.

The entire cabin of people laugh as Harry walks off stage to kiss Lewis Capaldi, and as the jet finally pulls into the hanger. But you can't help the sadness it's causing alongside the joy.

Finally in the car, and on your way from the airport, you huddle between Diana and Peter as Stanley Tucci presents the nominees for Album of the Year.

"And the winner is…" Stanley opens the envelope and takes a big breath, you holding your own as your hand squeezes the phone. "Harry Styles. Harry's House."

The three of you scream out, watching from behind the screen, as Harry heads back to the stage, for his fourth and final time.

Tears begin to form and Peter quickly hands you a tissue to not ruin the hard work your team put into your makeup look.

You watch on, as he hugs and laughs with Stanley, expressing how much he loves him as soon as he lifts the microphone. All the emotions, and probably a small amount of alcohol, fueling his bright smile.

"This, uh… this night has been really, really special to me and I will never forget it. Thank you so much for the welcome home, I appreciate it so much. There is no place like home. Thank you, thank you, thank you." He takes a breath for a moment as he looks down to the crowd of fans and peers, causing you to feel that even though his mind is most surely swirling around, that this moment is really sinking in. But what's sinking in more and more for you is the fact that you aren't there. "I’m so, so proud to be a British artist out there in the world. I’m so proud to be here tonight celebrating British artists and British music. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m gonna hand it over to Tom and Tyler. Thank you so much for this, I’m so grateful. Thank you.”

You hand the phone to Diana, watery eyes and a smile displayed on your face. You missed it. In person, at least. But, as pained as it makes you, you are still going to show up for him. And you are going to celebrate with him the rest of the night.

"Well, to the after party it is."

You make a mental note to give your styling teams extra long vacations soon, because their magic has enabled your hair to stay in place and the usual stress-induced sweat to stay at bay.

You do what you can to catch your breath as you prepare to step out from the back seat of the car, and head into The Box.

A deep breath, followed by another, and as soon as the door swings open you are bombarded with bright flashes of light.

Your security guard guides you inside and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and your ears to adjust to all the new noise.

Instantly, and almost instinctively, your attention is drawn to that beautiful, loud laugh that you know so well, and you barely make out the figure of a very happy Harry Styles, beaming from the events of the night. All the sadness, guilt, and pain melt seeing him so joyful, and is replaced with pride. Pride, and the desperate need to be by him now.

You push your way through the crowd, and as you find yourself a few feet from Harry, who has yet to see you, your body is halted as Lizzo stands in front of you.

"Hey honey!" She exclaims, exuberantly. You attempt to glance past her for a moment, and when you look back you find her expression has quickly changed. "I thought you were gonna be at the award ceremony, what happened?"

"Don't even get me started…" You begin to scowl at how things unfolded earlier, but quickly wave it off, not wanting to slip back into that negativity. Especially since you're there now.

"Damn. Well, I missed you!" She states, wrapping her arms around you. Another glimpse of Harry sets your heart fluttering as you pull away from your friend's embrace. "Harry really missed you."

"I'm here now." You reply.

"YN… he's a little drunk…"

You let out a loud laugh, finding humor in the fact that it doesn't come as a shock to you.

"I figured as much."

"Yeah but, like… he was really bummed you weren't there." She replies, as solemnly as possible in such a loud, vibrant atmosphere. "And he had a few to drink…"

"Okay…"

You glance past her again and this time meet Harry's gaze. You give Lizzo a quick smile and maneuver around her, rushing up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Hey there superstar! I'm so proud of you!" You exclaim, pulling back to meet his gorgeous, yet glazed over, green eyes.

"You didn't come." He states, a frown appearing between his brows.

Your eyes grow wide and your heart stops. That was not even close to a reaction you thought he would have. You smile though, hoping to ease the tension that you feel coming on.

"I'm sorry. The-"

"You didn't come!" He repeats suddenly, the furrow between his eyes becoming even more intense, causing a tightening in your chest.

"Harry… I was trying…"

"You coulda told me you weren't coming."

"I was trying! I texted you, Gemma, and Jeff!" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I was a little busy…"

"I know, Harry." You reply through gritted teeth. You understand that alcohol is playing a role here, but his attitude is still not warranted. But this must be what Lizzo was trying to tell you. Or potentially warn you about.

Harry shakes his head and looks to the ground, the frown almost permanent on his face.

"This was supposed to be an amazing night." He sighs, swirling around the contents in the glass he has in his hand.

"What the hell? You just won four Brit awards! How is this not an amazing night?"

"You should've been there." He scowls, causing your jaw to clench and your entire body to tense.

"This isn't fair."

"No. It's not." He runs his free hand through his hair, annoying you in the way that it still manages to fall back into place perfectly. Especially at this moment.

"I think… I think you should walk away." You utter, your heart hurting and your eyes beginning to water.

"Fine." He quickly replies, turning around as fast as the words left his mouth, and walking in the complete opposite direction of where you stand.

You could fall over right there, feeling as if you were just punched in the gut. This is not how that moment was supposed to go. Or this night. It was not even a consideration that he would be upset. You thought he would understand, but he didn't even let you explain.

So, not only were you not able to be there to cheer him on when he won, but now you aren't even able to celebrate with him at the party. A sinking feeling enters your mind. One that causes your feet to instantly head in the direction of the exit.

The worry you had, before the breakup, comes creeping back in. What if he thinks this is too difficult to do with you?

Your plan for escape was foiled before you even made it to the front door. Rhian and Hester from Wet Leg managed to grab your attention, by grabbing your arm, and pulled you into their conversation with the rest of the band.

It's not that you really minded talking with them, especially since you wanted to extend your congratulations anyway, but your mind keeps wandering back to your conversation with Harry. The interaction has left you in a less than ideal mood for celebrations.

Your eyes wander around the room, and land on the man you always seem to want to find in a crowd. Your breath hitches when you see he is looking right back at you. The expression on his face is no longer of anger, or frustration, or whatever he was feeling that left you two needing some space. Now, his features have softened, but still don't display any positivity.

Rhian's laugh catches your attention again, and you turn back to focus on the conversation unfolding in front of you. At least the people close by are happy you're there.

You suddenly feel a presence appear next to you and turn to the side to see Harry's saddened expression meet yours.

"Hello friends! Congratulations again." He states, removing his arm and embracing each of them for a moment.

"Thank you Harry! For everything!" Rhian giggles, turning to Hester as they gush over how unbelievable their wins were. You remember that feeling. It really doesn't change, even when you win another award, and you love seeing how happy they are. They deserve a fun night. Truthfully, so does Harry. So you decide to return to your previous plan of getting out of there.

"I think I'm going to call it a night everyone." You state, keeping your gaze on the girls, but noticing Harry's shoot right over to you.

You give them all a hug, shooting a polite smile to the man next to you, and turn to head to the exit.

You feel an arm snake around your waist and squeeze your side, which makes you slow your speed dramatically.

"Can I have a moment with you…" Harry whispers, his lips close enough to your ear that you feel his breath on your neck and it makes you shudder. "Before you go? Please?"

You manage a nod and let him guide you to a corner that seems to be a lot less crowded, and a tiny bit more quiet.

He stands in front of you, leaning against the wall beside him, and drops his head.

"YN, I'm…" He sighs, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck. His eyes flicker up to yours, and you determine that the expression you saw earlier was one of sadness. "I'm… I'm really, really sorry."

Surprise fills you, because so does frustration.

"Harry, I don't think you know how much I wanted to be there for you tonight! My damn flight got delayed and we tried everything to get here on time!" You exclaim, your breathing labored due to your quick response.

"I know. Peter just told me." He replies quietly, dropping his head again to look down at the floor.

"But you should've listened to me. I thought we were going to talk about things when they bothered us, but you wouldn't even hear my simple explanation for why I wasn't there tonight! How is this even going to work between us if this happens not even a week after we get back together?" You blurt out.

Harry immediately straightens up and your chest tightens. You didn't mean to let that all out. Not there at least. But, you promised to communicate with him and if he isn't going to, then you will. Although, you never truly meant to question the reunion of your relationship.

"Fuck, YN, I'm so fucking sorry." He answers, a shakiness and hint of worry in his voice. "It was a crazy night. I was so grateful when I won, and genuinely happy that I did, but each time I got sad that you weren't there. And… maybe I got a little worried."

"About what?"

"That… it's so fucking stupid… that you changed your mind about coming because… maybe you changed your mind about me."

He pulls his lips inward and closes his eyes, giving you a moment to cover your mouth in an attempt to hide the unintentional laugh that threatens to come out. You don't mean to, but you find it funny that after your little confession at the Grammys, he would question whether you still want to be with him. And that you had the same worry about him.

"Harry…" Your palms cup his cheeks, holding his face in front of yours, waiting for him to open his eyes. "Hey…"

He pries them open slowly, and you can feel his body relax under your touch.

"There was, and is, nowhere else I'd rather be than by your side, cheering you on." You smile, swiftly being matched by his delicious, dimpled grin.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have… reacted that way. And I should've listened. I'm an idiot. I just missed you. So much." He states, moving his hands to grab your waist and drawing you closer to him. "So, so much."

"I missed you too." You bite your lower lip. "But we have got to be better about talking to each other."

"I know. I will. We will." He sighs with a small smile, and his nervousness makes you giggle.

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you too. This really is an amazing night."

"Good." You place your hands in his chest, tracing the outline of the tattoos peeking out from his top. "But you know… I am still a little upset with you about something…"

His eyes go wide with shock and maybe even a little guilt, which you quickly want to squash.

"I saw you kiss Lewis, and then Stanley Tucci!"

Harry's expression immediately changes as he lets out that loud laugh that you can only fall in love with more each time you hear it.

"Well, you weren't there…" He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink as his gaze flickers down to your lips.

"Hm. I think I need to take back what's mine." You immediately reply, feeling a heat and need for him quickly growing inside. "Let's leave."

"What?" He chuckles, staring into your eyes as if to gauge your sincerity. You give him as lustful a look as you can, without being too obvious, and another grin quickly appears across his face. "Let me finish my dri-"

"Take it with you…" You whisper, your fingers traveling up the nape of his neck into his curly locks. You lick your lips, leaning closer to his, and press them firmly together.

"Jeff?" Harry shouts, swiveling around to find his friend. "Call the car. We're heading out!"

Main Masterlist

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[catboybiologist]

https://www.tumblr.com/radiantfissure/766164937299116032/yes-thank-you-prev-its-such-a-shitty-verbal?source=share

People of colour pointing out a pattern of racism and asking white queer people to do better is not the same thing as transmisogynistic femboys being used as an agp trope like she said. She is allover the place and jump from one point to another. I'm sorry that it makes you uncomfortable that we point out the trends of racism in the queer community and that we have to mention it over and over again to the point that you believe it is an harassment campaign because white queer people refuse to listen and change. If multiple ppl say the same thing over and over again, instead of believing it is a way to oppress white people, maybe take it as a sign that there is a huge problem racism in our community and white queer people must stop acting like victims when we point it out. There is a reason why you barely see any BIPOC in the online queer community. It is inhospitable to us and get called transphobic when we point it out. Not all white queers are like that but I shouldn't have to say it. Just listen to use BIPOC, I'm begging you.

Okay there's a lot here that's a bit of a storm of info and I'm going to be honest, I don't really know what's going on and I'm unpacking what you linked and what you said now.

I don't know if this ask is directed at me specifically, or if its just because I'm a white queer with some kind of following. I didn't interact with the linked post, and I don't know if its vagueing about a specific person or event, or just general sentiments.

First, if I genuinely have done or said anything directly to make BIPOC uncomfortable on my page or in the tumblr community, PLEASE tell me. This isn't a one time thing, I genuinely would appreciate if I'm "called out" in asks, DMs, or some other kind of interaction before something becomes a larger issue.

(This applies universally, btw, and is something I've asked for before. I appreciate directness and clarity a lot, and I do want to listen. I hope that comes across.)

(oh, and also, to white queer followers: don't try to "defend" me if this is pointing out something I did. Cut that bullshit out, its extremely uncomfortable.)

Second, if this isn't about something I've done or said specifically, and you mostly want comment on the post.... yeah, I'm going to be honest, that post is a big fucking problem. There's a LOT to unpack in that post and I don't have nearly the capacity to go through it all. Fuck. This is a half baked thought, but it genuinely feels like they're using some kind of "TMA status" as a deflection of criticism. I've absolutely seen memes about the "racist femboy", but honestly, its nothing more than memes.

I've actually probably seen more racist, internally queerphobic femboys than I've seen memes or stereotypes on the subject. So uh. Yeah.

Imma be blunt. If the stereotype of the "racist 4chan femboy" is something you come across commonly in a way that actually affects discussion and communication about trans issues, and feels more prevalent than the stereotypes that are flown around in political contexts and broader culture... then I'm really sorry, you're probably terminally online.

None of this is well formed thoughts. All of this is a mess. I can't agree with this post, though. The most favorable interpretation of it is that its coming from a place of being extremely online and not really knowing what the actual stereotypes held about trans women are. The less favorable reading is that its deflection.

Third, if there are specific people or events this is referring to, then I well and truly have 0 clue whats going on.

Also, I sympathize with the sheer exhaustion of feeling like you have to say "not all white queers" all the time. Obviously I haven't been in the exact situation, but I feel very similarly about a lot of social commentary- you oftentimes get tired of the little disclaimers intended to make other people more comfortable. Its fucking tiresome.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 33: Infiltration

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

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Splinter rushes down the hall and into the elevator, slamming the buttons frantically. The doors finally slide open and he rushes in, practically punching the key for the lobby. It's an eternal misery as he waits for the elevator to arrive, and he instantly bursts through as soon as the bell dings and the doors release him.

"Michelangelo!" he shouts in a mad panic, searching all over for him. "My son, where are you?!"

His heart pounds in his chest as he rushes up and down the streets looking for him. He thinks he sees a blur of dark green and bright yellow scurry away into the town.

"MIKEY!"

Splinter runs after him, though he knows he's already lost him. With Mikey's newfound speed and agility -- not to mention the wall-crawling advantage he now possesses -- Mikey will be long gone by the time he reaches the point he last saw him.

Splinter rushes to the first person he sees -- a bear Yokai leading a group of young children down the street.

"Excuse me, miss?" he asks, hands quivering from anxiety. "Did you happen to see a lizard-turtle-snake-jaguar-monkey mutant run through here?"

"I beg your pardon?" she asks, flabbergasted. "A what now?"

"My son! He's green with yellow spots and long claws and a tail," Splinter rambles. "He ran off and I can't find him!"

"I didn't see anyone like that," the bear Yokai answers, still a bit concerned and confused.

Splinter thanks her anyways and runs off in the direction he last saw Mikey go. He approaches an axolotl couple and asks the same thing. And he gets the same result from them, too.

"Meh," the husband shrugs. "Didn't see nuthin'."

"Sorry, I can't say I have," the wife sighs.

Splinter groans and continues to run, calling out his son's name as he does.

"Mikey!" he cries, over and over and over again.

After an hour or two, he gives up. Mostly because he's exhausted from all the running around in circles, and because he's losing his voice from the shouting.

Splinter sighs, sliding down against a stone pillar and contemplating his next move -- when he hears a buzz from his pockets. It's his cellphone. He doesn't even need to see the caller ID. He instantly knows who it is and why they're calling. He hesitates, swallows, and pulls out the phone. The screen is blue, with one of Leo's baby pictures as the icon.

He taps the green button, answering the call. He tries to greet his son, but the words get caught up in his throat. Splinter waits for Leo to engage first.

"...Dad? Hello? Are you there?" Leo asks.

"...Y-yes, Blue. I'm here."

"Hey, where are you guys? We just got back to the room and it's empty. Did you take Mikey out or --"

"Leonardo."

The line falls silent. Splinter very rarely uses their names. Leo knows that whatever follows... is bad, bad news.

"...What happened....?" He whispers nervously.

"Did you not call for Mikey? Didn't you see him?"

"Call for --? No, why would I -- Pop, just tell me what happened! Isn't he with you?"

Splinter swallows again. He forces the words out.

"Michelangelo ran away from me."

Silence.

"...Where are you?"

"In the Hidden City center square --"

A blue light sparks from behind him, a sound of swirling wind and sparkling magic. He turns to see a portal open up, and Leo steps through -- face pale as a sheet, his expression constantly switching between absolutely furious and utterly devastated. He hangs up the phone, which he's practically crushing in his grip as he stomps forwards.

"Pop," he says, voice low and eyes wide. "What. Happened."

Splinter shakily explains about how he'd fallen asleep during the movie, and woken up to find Mikey in a manic state going around the room and shouting for Leo. He told him how Mikey said he'd heard his brother calling out for him. As he recounts the event to his son, the rest of the group pour through the portal, wondering what has happened. Splinter catches them up as best he can.

"...And then he jumped out the window and went off to look for you," Splinter stammers. "I went after him from the lobby, but by that point he'd already gotten to far away that I lost him in the crowds."

The old rat sighs loudly.

"I am so sorry, my son. I should have --"

Leo takes his father's hands in his own, getting down on one knee to be eye-level with him.

"It... it's not your fault, Dad," Leo trembles. "I should have known he wasn't ready... But I thought he'd learned his lesson. I thought I could trust him to..."

Leo groans, lowering his head in despondency.

"I just can't believe he made up a story about me calling him."

"...I'm not so sure he did..." Splinter murmurs.

Leo looks back up at him. His forehead wrinkles in confusion.

"What do you mean? He had to have made it up! I didn't call for him, and even if I did, I was miles above ground and even more miles away fighting noise-cancelling mutants! And you yourself said you didn't hear anything!"

"But that doesn't mean he didn't hear something."

Raph steps forwards, scratching the back of his head as he tries to understand.

"What're ya sayin', Pops? That Mikey heard something he thought was Leo?"

"Yes. Mikey wears his heart on his sleeve, his thoughts are never hidden. I saw the look on his face, how he responded... this wasn't an act. He wouldn't do that. He heard something. I am sure of it."

"Could it have been an auditory hallucination?" Donnie wonders aloud.

"There are hundreds of Yokai down here, many with mystic abilities and genetic ones," Splinter counters. "You'll find several people know how to mimic a voice."

"That doesn't explain why only Mikey heard it," Donnie chimes in. "And why someone would want to mimic Nardo's voice to --"

"...To lure Mikey away?" Leo finishes.

The group exchange glances.

"What if... it wasn't a Yokai or a mutant that figured out how to copy Leo's voice?" Raph realizes.

He turns to Leo, who grits his teeth and nods.

"Donnie. Trackers. Now."

"Already on it, leader," Donnie returns, clicking away at his wrist tech. "He's above the surface. Judging from the speed and direction he's going, I'd say he's in a vehicle."

"They found him," Leo gasps. "They're taking him back to the TCRI!"

"I'll call Bishop," Casey says, whipping out a cell phone and dialing the number he was given.

"What do we do?!" April shouts worriedly. "The last time we lost him, he was gone for a whole week and came back with no memories! We can't let them do that to him again, we gotta save him!"

"It won't be enough to just 'save him' this time," Donnie adds. "They'll only keep coming back for him. We have to stop the TCRI for good!"

"But how?" Raph asks, pacing back and forth. "I mean, how do we take down a secret government organization without violating any laws or branding ourselves as terrorists?"

"He has a good point," April relents. "You guys are already viewed as, like, New York City's personal cryptids! And the other mutants aren't exactly helping your case right now..."

"Maybe we can... I dunno, ask for help?" Leo thinks aloud. "From that Bishop guy? He said something about trying to take down the TCRI and the EPF. Maybe he can help --"

"I don't think so," Casey mumbles, nervously looking back at the group. "The number's been disconnected. I can't get through to him."

"What do you mean, disconnected?" Leo asks.

"It means that the phone is no longer in service," Donnie explains.

"Thank you, Dee. Where would we be without you."

"Probably in a dark hole making elaborate dances to elder gods hoping to get the cable working again."

Leo rolls his eyes.

"He meant what does it mean if a government agent that was working to help us suddenly has his personal phone disconnected, Dee," April grumbles.

"Oh, that. Well, that would indicate that his cover's been blown and they eradicated all proof of his existence so no one will suspect anything when he also disappears," Donatello elaborates.

The group go silent.

"Well, this can't be good at all."

"I'll try calling the other number, then..." Casey whimpers.

"What other number?" Leo asks.

"Agent Bishop gave me his contact info and one for a scientist or something that was helping him out. Professor Honeycomb, I think..."

Casey types the number into the phone and dials.

It's silent as they all listen with baited breath.

The phone rings once. Twice. Thrice.

"H-hello? Who is this? How did you get this number --"

"Uhhhhhh hi, i-is this Professor Honeycomb?" Casey mumbles.

"Honeycutt, and y-yes, it is! Who is this?"

"My name is Casey Jones, Agent Bishop gave me this number for emergencies and --"

The voice on the other end shushes him quickly.

"Please, keep your voice down... Bishop gave you this number? Then... you're one of the mutants? Or the human child?"

"I'm the human," Casey confirms. "Where's Bishop? He's not answering my calls..."

Honeycutt's voice pauses before hoarsely whispering back to him.

"...Bishop was taken prisoner by the TCRI. They found out he was working as a double agent for you guys... I don't know what happened to him beyond that. They haven't told me anything concerning his condition --"

"When was this?!" Leo asks, jutting into the conversation.

"Th-three days ago," Honeycutt responds. "They took him to a sublevel and locked me in my lab. Hang on a mo', you sound familiar--"

"Wait, they found you out too?" Casey yells. "B-but how do you have a phone?"

"It's my private burner phone, I keep it hidden for emergencies. Though, I'll have to destroy it after this call..."

"Listen, Honey-guy, they found Mikey again. They're bringing him back to the building as we speak. Is there anything can you tell us that might help?" Leo asks.

They hear Honeycutt hum as he thinks it through.

"Well, I know that they've been commissioning a heck of a lot of weapons designs and strange technologies, so if you were planning on storming the castle, prepare for heavy artillery. And be aware, they have video evidence of your existence."

"Video?"

"Yes. During the invasion. That's how we were able to identify the human boy -- er, Casey. And we have some surveillance of your home base, as well as drone shots of you fighting at the pier and in a junkyard. There's even some audio clips, if I'm not mistaken."

"Audio..." Leo connects. "That's how they had my voice... they caught me on tape!"

"You do talk the most," Donnie chimes in. "And the loudest."

Leo grumbles at him as Casey tries to continue the conversation with Professor Honeycutt.

"Why do they want Mikey so badly?"

"I can't say I am entirely sure, my field of research is mostly limited to the technological side of things. But I do know that Dr. Rod Timothy considers mutants to be the next evolution of humanity, and Dr. Chaplin was incredibly invested with Mikey's powerset and abilities. The last test he did with him seemed to really excite him."

"What test?"

"The test with the A.L.P.H.A. device--"

The phone's speakers pick up the sound of sliding doors, and a gruff voice that chastises Professor Honeycutt.

"Hey! Whatt're you doin'?"

"O-oh! Nothing, just... uh... talking to myself! Being isolated in an office space for a week can really affect a person's mental health, you know!"

"Well, cut it out! And get back to work!!"

"A-absolutely, sir! My apologies... Um... goodbye..."

Casey hears Professor Honeycutt lean close and whisper into his receiver.

"And good luck!"

The phone clicks. The line goes dead. The group stands in silence, exchanging soft glances between one another as they contemplate what to do next.

"...So? Any ideas?"

"We're going after him," Leo growls. "Now."

"NOW??" Casey gawks. "Are you serious? We have no plan, no idea what to do, or what kinds of weapons they have!"

"He's kinda right, Leo, this isn't exactly the time to do a 'go-in-guns-blazing-to-save-your-brother-because-the-enemy-kidnapped-them' type of thing," Raph mumbles, his hand subconsciously reaching for his eye.

"Well, last time we waited a week before going in! I'm not doing that to Mikey again. We're going back in there. Today."

"With what plan?" Donnie counters.

"With this plan..."

Leo gathers the group together in a huddle as he explains their next moves.

"Me, Raph, and Donnie will use our ninja skills to enter in from the vents at the roof."

"But what about me and CJ?" April asks.

"You'll need a distraction to get in. And I think I have a pretty good one in mind..."

.

.

.

Inside the TCRI lobby, the secretary sits behind her desk, typing away. A security guard sits beside her, trying unsuccessfully to flirt. It's late afternoon, and she's ready for a break so she can doomscroll on Facebook while absentmindedly eating her bagged lunch. She doesn't notice several people take position outside the front. But she does notice when when a young woman kicks the door to the lobby open with a furious expression.

"Hey, lady!" Cassandra Jones shouts, commanding attention. "You work at the TCRI or something?!"

"A-ah, yes?" The poor woman stammers, jolted by the sudden noise and aggression. "How can I help you?"

“I wanna see the boss man right now!” Cass yells as she rushes into the building. “I got a complaint against one of your products!”

“Excuse me?” The guard at the counter asks incredulously. “What product?”

“My toaster!” She yells, slamming a beat-up appliance onto the desk. “Look at this! It’s pathetic!”

“Um… we don’t… make toasters?” The secretary tries.

“Oh yeah? Then explain this!” Cassandra shouts, lifting up the bottom of the toaster to show a pathetic logo hastily printed on the bottom.

“…That says ‘RITC’, ma’am.”

“I wanna see the head geek!” Cass bellows, jumping up onto the countertop and pointing her hockey stick at the secretary. “Or I’m gonna smash this place to bits!”

Cassandra starts whacking the toaster with her hockey stick, then rams it into the computer. Sparks fly, and the secretary yipes as she hides under the desk, shouting for additional security.

Several guards rush in from an elevator. As they do, Casey Jr. and April run into the building quickly.

“GIVE ME TOASTERS OR GIVE ME DEATH!!” Cass battle-cries, body slamming into the guards that run in. “GIRL SCOUT SQUADRON, ATTACK!”

Several ten year olds rush in from their hiding places previously stationed within the lobby, and begin to pummel the men with stale brownies.

"Dang, Cass has been training them well," April mutters as she and CJ dash towards the closing elevator and slip through.

Cassandra winks at the two, giving them a thumbs-up before the doors slide shut and the lift takes them away.

"Well, that was easy enough," Casey Jr. sighs. "What's next, Commander?"

"You remember the plan," April says as she climbs onto his shoulders and lifts up the ceiling panel. "The guys will enter in through the roof and find Mikey. You go looking for Honeycutt and Bishop, and get them out. I'm going to the records room to find any information on this 'A.L.P.H.A. device' or whatever the doc called it."

"And we meet back at the turtle tank in 30 minutes, unless they call to abort the mission," CJ finishes.

"Right! See you then," April adieus, climbing through the vent and clambering away.

CJ stays in the lift, waiting for his floor. Following the building plans that Donnie had accessed for the original rescue mission, the private offices would be near the top floor.

The doors open, and CJ peeks around the corner.

The halls are empty. But there are security cameras twelve feet apart from each other. CJ activates a device from his gloves that Present Donnie made for him, igniting several mini zappers and firing them one-by-one at the cameras. They each go down with a fritz and a zitz.

Casey Jones Jr. makes his way down the hall. He'll rescue Honeycutt first, then the two of them will find where they've been keeping Bishop.

CJ runs, passing each door with caution. They all have names printed on them... Dr. V. Falco... Dr. R. Cobrato... Dr. F. O'Toole... Prof. L. Cycloid... Dr. M. Malignus... Dr. M. Richards... How many scientists does this place have?!

Casey spots one door in particular -- Prof. Z. Honeycutt! That's the one!

He goes to the door and starts pounding. It's locked. He rams against it, once -- twice -- three times! The hinges break loose and the door cracks down the center. Casey kicks it down the rest of the way and rushes into the apartment room.

"Professor Honeycutt!" He calls out. "Professor! I'm here to... rescue... you...?"

The apartment is empty.

.

.

.

April kicks the emergency exit panel down and slides through the tiny opening into the hall. For the most part, it's deserted. There is one guard, but he's going to the exit stairs. Now's her chance!

April books it to the end of the hall, skidding to a halt as she gets to the records room. There's a keypad lock, but she's been prepared for this! She whips out a small ninpo USB drive that Donnie made for her and slams it into the keypad. There's a crackle of purple sparks, the keypad glitches, and then dings. The locks click and the door slides open. April peeks through and sees the room is empty. She ducks in before a security guard can catch her. It's dimly lit, but the files are all here. Now she just has to find the right one...

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[integra1127grimmreaper]

What Have You Done?! (Dave York)

Dave York Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Prev

Warning: angst and mention of murder.

Summary: Pt3 of Isn't My Affair Anymore. It becomes quite clear that Dave has fucked up majorly. Inspired by - Keith Caputo & Within Temptation's - What Have You Done.

A/N: realized now only had the wrong Brian spelling, so fixed it in this one.

This entire moment seemed so surreal. It was only yesterday that you had spoken with Susan and now you were attending a memorial service for her. "Attempted robbery gone wrong", was what they said yet it didn't sit well with you. It was just too coincidental that she would be murdered whilst investigating the death of a DIA operative and you were praying that the direction your mind was going to involving her death was wrong. "You were wrong. You had to be wrong, right...?"

Arriving at the house before it became overcrowded with mourners, you find Brian alone in the study where Susan always used to work. "Hey", you greet him with a thin smile, and he returns it with a grief stricken one of his own.

"How you holding up?", you hug him tightly. Just as you expected, he doesn't answer, merely shaking his head whilst sobbing against your shoulder.

"I'm so sorry", you gently rub his back. "If... if only I had gone with..."

"No", Brian mutters tearfully shaking his head at your words. "It wouldn't have made a difference, you could've..." You silently watch as he battles to speak further, "they would've killed you too. Dave was with her over there and not he could prevent it."

Brian's hold onto you tightens as he grieves for his wife and the only thought you had was; you weren't quite that sure about Dave not being able to prevent Susan's death.

The house was stuffed to capacity with people who came to show their respect for the late Susan, and it was quite something to see the impact she had over so many people's lives. Susan had been a wonderful human being, one that didn't deserve the ending she got. It was a complete tragedy what had been done to her, one you prayed Dave had nothing to do with.

He hadn't made an appearance yet, something you were grateful for and were hopeful that you would be able to avoid him until leaving the gathering. But it was all wishful thinking when you had to run out for more refreshments as the mourners kept adding up.

Carry a snack platter in each hand whilst deep in thought, you stop abruptly in the kitchen doorway when seeing Dave standing in front of Brian with a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. In slow motion, you watch as Brian thanks Dave for the glass of water. Dave silently nods in response, giving Brian's shoulder a squeeze, turning your direction to exit the kitchen.

All motion around you seem to freeze as Dave's eyes widen at the sight of you and that was when it all became clear to you; the look in his eyes was actually one of guilt.

"What have you done...?"

Would you mind if I hurt you? Understand that I need to Wish that I had other choices Than to harm the one I love What have you done now?

I know I'd better stop trying You know that there's no denying I won't show mercy on you now I know I should stop believing I know there's no retrieving It's over now, what have you done?

What have you done now? I, I've been waiting for someone like you But now you are slipping away (What have you done now?) Why, why does fate make us suffer? There's a curse between us Between me and you

*

"He did it. Dave had been the one behind Susan's death..."

You had hoped, you had prayed, and you had been absolutely wrong.

"You had to get out of here! If he killed Susan, then there was nothing to stop him from killing you too. You had to get away from here, away from him and you had to do it now."

"Let me help you", someone offers, and you gladly hand the platters over.

Brian noticing your presence, steps around Dave to get to you, "thank you."

"It was nothing", you respond with a weak smile, "unfortunately, I have to be leave now."

With a silent head nod, Brian pulls you for a hug. "Take care, Brian...", you gently pat his back and unfortunately, your eyes make contact with Dave's once again. You blood runs cold then at the dark look in his eyes, "I... I'll keep in touch", you inform Brian, backing away from him to hastily make your escape.

Rushing down the front steps to hastily get away as far as possible, you don't take notice of the individual from across the street as he watches you flee from the late Susan's home.

"What have done, Dave? What have you done...?"

Would you mind if I killed you? Would you mind if I tried to? 'Cause you have turned into my worst enemy You carry hate that I don't feel It's over now, what have you done?

What have you done now? I, I've been waiting for someone like you But now you are slipping away (What have you done now?) Why, why does fate make us suffer? There's a curse between us Between me and you...

[juyomiao]

Only ONE - sung hanbin x gn!reader

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09 ☆ (in)direct kiss

< prev | masterlist | next >

chapter warnings: joking implications of killing someone , written part isn't proof read n very dialogue heavy

written part under the cut (749 words)

you're considering turning around and making a stop at chaehyun's house to make her regret whatever she planned – maybe include taerae in it too since he's clearly her accomplice in all of this. seriously, what on god's green earth were they thinking?

keyword, considering.

something is telling you this is an opportunity you can't pass on, it's now or never, and the way hanbin looks up from his phone and directly at you almost at the same time as you do is the confirmation you needed.

you don't know where all your insecurities about your feelings not being reciprocated went, but as you walk up to him you find out you it doesn't feel bad, being confident about hanbin feeling the same for once.

"hi," no, nevermind, there goes all your confidence, disappeared into thin air once you make eye contact with hanbin.

"hi, yn," he smiles, the same way he always does, but for some reason it feels different "so i guess we both got caught up in whatever our friends planned?"

"i guess, yeah," a few seconds of awkward silence pass. you have to save this conversation before it ends up where all the conversations between you two end up: nowhere. "so? what do you want to do?"

"well, i was supposed to meet up with hao, but we didn't really have any plans on what exactly to do… i guess the same was with you and chaehyun?" you nod "that mother fucker, once i get her i'm going to- sorry, that's not the point, i always get sidetracked…"

"that's why i like you,"

your eyes widen. did you hear that right?

"what?" hanbin seems as confused as you "what?"

oh, so he didn't actually say that. you're hallucinating too, now? chaehyun gave you the number of that psychiatrist, maybe you should contact them…

"nothing, i thought you said something. do you want to get ice cream?" it's the first idea that comes to your mind, you don't even mentally beat yourself up for how lame it is, anything is fine as long as you stop standing there.

surprisingly, almost all the awkwardness between you two slowly goes away. spending time with hanbin outside of school and your student council duties is fun, time goes by quickly, and before you know it you've already bought your ice cream and sat down on a bench nearby.

"what flavor did you get?" hanbin asks.

"strawberry," it's pretty obvious, the vibrant (and a bit too artificial) pink of the ice cream should give it away easily, why would he even ask?

"can i try it?" you nod your head, standing up "i'll go ask if they have one of those stupid plastic spoons they have at ice cream places,"

"why?"

"uh, i mean, unless you want us to indirectly kiss or something, that's our only option,"

"mh… right, we should probably avoid indirect kisses..." before you can start walking away, he grabs your wrist, making you sit down again. "hanbin what…?"

"how about a direct kiss instead?"

okay now you've completely gone insane. there's no way in hell sung hanbin, your lifelong crush sung hanbin just said he wants to kiss you. no way.

"yn?" then why is he looking at you like he's waiting for an answer?

you know what, fuck it. maybe you're delusional, maybe you're hallucinating, maybe it's a dream. you're still not missing the opportunity to kiss someone you've had a crush on since middle school.

"yeah, a direct kiss sounds great, actually."

all the times hanbin has taken your breath away metaphorically, with something he did or said, could never compare to this one.

"so you like me too?"

"no, i just kissed you for shits and giggles," you roll your eyes "of course! i've liked you since you gave me a pencil when we were twelve!"

"oh," well, now he's going to think you're some kind of creep, great job yn! "well, that's nice. since i did that because i liked you,"

"wait, you liked me before i liked you?"

"i mean, i didn't know you had feelings for me until… today, actually. on that note," he takes his phone out of his pocket "do you know why chaehyun told me, and i quote, 'if you keep up this search for yn's crush you're going to get your feelings hurt'?"

you make a mental note to still take that detour to chae's house on your way home.

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☆ note: RAHHHHH THEY KISSED WE CHEERED . why does hanbin kind of have w rizz now what happened . btw this is almost as long as the ricky one shot but instead of taking me 3 weeks to write this took me 30 minutes . worms in the brain fr . btw yes i accidentally posted this while editing the draft🧍

☆ SYNOPSIS: sung hanbin is everyone's dream guy: perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect personality, he has it all. he's even class AND student council president! everyone loves him, and you, as his vice-president, are no exception to that. having been in love with him since you were 12, you try to tone down your feelings "for the sake of professionalism" and claim it's simple admiration for someone who objectively has no flaws. but there is one small detail you missed, in all these years admiring him: he has an even bigger crush on you.

☆ TAGLIST: (italics = couldn't tag)(had to remove even more ppl bc tumblr is being a bitch ,, sorry) @hananovi @soobeaniee @idkwatodoanymore @huipinkhair @homohoons @sunnyglower @lethalvenus @sunoksunny @tocupid @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @winteringdream @ikeryn @ilovechanhee @thesiriusmap @hee-lanat @baekstans @blaycke @vernonfernandez @8turning @yeolsbestie @asteroidchenle @hvnyujiq @hikyeom @r4innoms @enhypen-scholarship @sulkygyu @meowrinz @rikimylove @ridinhyuck @lumixen @neohyxn @ceanairy @beomibeom @cherriegyu @sunwcloud @k4hzuhas @annoyingbitch83 @stickersim @dreamyyn @anawesomeaquatic @softforjungwoo @utopiakys @247hrs @sunswoonie @minhui896 @chanhee-hee @nxurxn @peachysohn @garaaaaaaaaa @haesunflower