#that’s a known you can’t complain if you come out part machine when you went to the machine man to fix you

[scrapyardwings]

Feel like Church of the Glorious Evolved would gain a following just based on the principle that if someone asked, the Machine Herald would give a hysterectomy with zero questions.

[mc-lukanette]

Omg I am loving your dreaded string of fate au this is such an interesting take! As always your writing and ideas absolutely amaze me You are such a wonderful writer! If it isnt too much of a bother could we get some more writing for dsaf? Either way I hope you are staying safe, taking care of yourself, and that overall life is doing you good.

Thanks, everyone! And sure, you can have more!!

—————

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Luka wasn't sure why Marinette had called him over that day. As far as he knew, she was busy with projects, though he wouldn't complain about spending some time with her.

Still, he found himself tensing and steeling himself up as he walked up the stairs to her living room. The hum of her sewing machine could be heard as he got closer, reminding him of clothes, which led to the thought of thread, which then brought his mind to the red string of fate wrapped around her neck. His last venture as Viperion seemed to have improved his sensing, so now he could see someone's red string even if the person on the other end wasn't nearby.

Needless to say, he wasn't looking forward to it with Marinette.

He closed the living room door behind him, then went up the staircase, knocking to let Marinette know he was there. The sound of the sewing machine stopped, and he heard her footsteps come closer followed by the slight creak of the trapdoor.

Marinette's face was revealed to him, offering him a smile, and Luka tried not to stare too much at the red string still tied around her neck. He swallowed, but smiled back at her, which was genuine enough even if he was uncomfortable.

"Come on up," she welcomed, holding the trapdoor up for him. He nodded and walked up the rest of the stairs, hearing the trapdoor close behind him as he took a look around the room. He felt Marinette's eyes on him, but she voiced her thoughts before he could wonder about them.

"You didn't bring your guitar?" she asked.

He glanced at his back, then at her, having no way of telling her the real reason why he'd chosen not to bring it. "Yeah, I didn't. Sorry, did you want me to play for you?"

"Oh! No, it's okay—I mean, of course I love it when you play for me so I always want—but I understand!" She thankfully dropped the subject there, turning away to return to her seat. "You can make yourself at home or help yourself to the fridge downstairs if you want anything!"

"Thanks," he said with a smile, heading over to her chaise lounge and taking a seat on it. Even with Marinette's chair turned away from him while she used her sewing machine, he could still see the red string dangling off the side, though it faded into full transparency before it hit the floor.

In truth, he'd left his guitar behind to force himself to use less music and more words. He didn't want to hide behind it to try and ease his situation or make himself more comfortable with everything. The situation the love of his life - and more importantly, his friend - had gotten into through no fault of her own was horrible, and no matter how uncomfortable he was, he couldn't have been any more uncomfortable than her being strangled by fate itself.

He watched her, waiting for a lull in her work to ask, "Did you need anything?"

"Hm?" She looked over her chair to meet his gaze.

"I'm happy to be here anyway, but I didn't know if you needed me for something," he clarified.

"Oh." She understood. Waving a hand dismissively, she assured, "No! I just invited you here to hang out—" She gestured to her sewing machine, her eyes a bit shifty. "—with me, while I was busy but totally happy and relaxed and everything!"

Her wording was inherently suspicious. His eyes scanned over the room, noting the projects littered about that seemed so plentiful. He supposed he hadn't exactly been subtle in his concern for her, but he wasn't sure of exactly what tipped her off or made her feel like she had to "prove" her happiness to him.

Besides, he knew better, and he knew her. Even with the smile she gave him, her brows were furrowed and twitching, a tiredness to her eyes that definitely didn't show what he would call "happiness."

He gave her a nod anyway, not wanting to call her out when he was still piecing things together himself, and he didn't want to confirm her worries if she was merely suspecting that he felt that way.

He leaned back while she returned to working, his hand on the cushion underneath him as he considered what to say. If Sass was right in his beliefs, then Luka indeed had the power to change Marinette's fate, though there wasn't any specific method of how. He thought back to all of their conversations, wondering what he would've done differently if he'd known beforehand and trying not to get bogged down by "what if"s or blame himself for it.

He stared silently at the back of Marinette's head, remembering the day at the ice rink when he saw the same thing. She'd been running away, or more specifically running towards Adrien after he'd encouraged her to do so. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but from what he gathered from interactions he'd either seen or heard about, it hadn't gone anywhere. Maybe it hadn't even gone well at all.

Maybe he'd made a mistake?

Luka's mind grew heavy with the thoughts, his body falling back to lay down on Marinette's chaise. He didn't regret doing what he felt was right, but now he wondered if his wording could've been better.

"You should probably go over and talk to him."

He hadn't exactly been thinking at the time - a lot had happened that day - but he noted that he could've asked her how she felt. He could've questioned her on if she really wanted to go after Adrien. It was possible she'd wanted to go home on the subway with him, but was convinced to chase Adrien when he brought it up. Luka just imagined Marinette seeing Adrien and Kagami together, the red string tightening around her neck and then loosening when she was presented with the prospect of going after him.

He felt like he was the one being strangled, just thinking about it.

"Luka?"

He looked up, surprised, seeing that Marinette had stopped sewing at some point and had come to sit on the chaise lounge with him. She hovered over him, concern written across her features and the red string taunting him with its mere existence. Luka knew by now that she was very worried about him, and trying to wriggle or half-lie out of it wasn't going to convince her. He'd just really thought that she would've been sewing for longer.

He also jolted up into a sitting position upon realizing that he probably looked like he was making himself too comfy on her chaise lounge. She didn't seem to mind at least.

"...Marinette," he said slowly, trying to put his thoughts in order. She leaned closer as a sign that she was giving him her attention, and he continued, "Do you know why I let you go that day?"

She tilted her head and he belatedly caught that he hadn't been specific, still too lost in his own head. He opened his mouth to clarify, but realization struck Marinette before he could speak, her brows raising in recognition.

"Oh!" she gasped. Though the conversation was sudden, she didn't seem to mind rolling with it. "Um, yeah, I wondered about that sometimes. I mean, I knew that you knew that I—but I didn't know that you—but if you didn't back then, I—"

"No, your song was definitely in my head, even back then," he confirmed casually, smiling as he added, "Since the day we met, remember?"

She blushed at the mention of his confession, but nodded. "Y-yeah." Then, seeming to rethink the moment with that information in mind, she asked, "...Why did you let me go then?"

His eyes flickered to the red string, then back up to her face. "I want you to be happy, Marinette, no matter who it's with. I thought that Adrien would do that, but I hope I didn't make you feel like you had to go after him."

She blinked, the thought having seemingly not even occurred to her. She averted her gaze, her eyes darting around at nothing in particular. "Is...is that why you were looking like that?"

He didn't answer, but that was answer enough for her.

"Oh, Luka," she murmured sympathetically. "I—well—" She shifted uncomfortably. "—I shouldn't be talking to you about this. It'd be wrong when my feelings are so messed up. You..."

He shook his head. "You can talk about Adrien if you want. I'd be happy if you relied on me more."

He meant it. Even regardless of his fate sensing, he wanted Marinette to feel comfortable talking to him, even if it was about her love problems. He didn't want their relationship to be changed because of his feelings for her.

"Even more?" She raised a brow, the concept confusing her, but she didn't question him further. She hesitated, rubbing her cheek in thought, then dropped her hands to her lap and twiddled her fingers. "I-I don't know; about Adrien, I mean. I—" She sighed, giving a halfhearted shrug. "—he's not interested in me. He likes Kagami, but the girls kept telling me that I shouldn't give up on him because of how hard I tried." Then, stiffening, she waved her hands and rapidly assured, "N-not anything against your sister, of course! That's just what happened—and—" She huffed in frustration. "—it feels like I hit a wall, and I'm not going anywhere. Adrien doesn't notice me and I can't talk to him and... I'm tired."

Luka nodded silently to let her know that he was both listening and sympathetic towards her plight, also not wanting to interrupt her.

"Of course I tried hard, but Adrien and Kagami seem like they're good for each other and they should be happy together. Just, whenever I think of giving up or not trying, I..." She raised a hand to her neck in a gesture that he immediately understood. "It hurts, and Alya's always trying to get me together with Adrien no matter what I say. Maybe she knows best and maybe she's right, and that's why I always end up in crazy situations with him. Plus, everyone..." She looked away, her voice not having the enthusiasm one would imagine her next words would go with. "...everyone keeps saying we're made for each other."

Luka clutched his leg to ground himself while struggling to keep a straight face. He'd certainly never heard that one before, but it stung like his neck did just thinking about it. His lips pressed together, trying to contain his emotions, but he couldn't help blurting out, "No one's made for anyone."

She blinked at him, shocked, but he didn't take it back or apologize for saying it so suddenly. He recognized the fact that he was talking about destined love being nonexistent when he himself knew that "fate" was very much a real thing, but his actual opinion on the subject hadn't changed. As far as he was concerned, fate's "opinion" was about as valid as anyone else's when it came to someone else's relationship.

"No matter what Alya, or even Rose, say about you and who you love, Marinette, all that matters is you and who you want to play for. You deserve someone who makes you happy." He paused, lamenting the reality that she really hadn't gotten to think about it. "Does Adrien make you happy?"

He saw the string tighten, Marinette opening her mouth to respond before she seemed to stop herself. He felt like apologizing, but knew she wouldn't understand even if he did. She frowned, staring down at her lap and appearing conflicted with herself, so he reached out and carefully hovered his hand over her shoulder in a show of comfort. She glanced at his hand, noticing the gesture, but didn't immediately give him any sort of permission.

Then, to his surprise, she brought her hand up, gently grabbing his wrist and lowering it so his hand was placed perfectly on her shoulder. She didn't even let go, keeping his wrist held like she needed his hand there.

"...Luka," she whispered, her voice shaking, "I—no, you'll laugh, or think I'm crazy."

He squeezed her shoulder, not hesitating to insist, "I won't. I'm here for you, Marinette."

She finally met his gaze, and he saw a vulnerability there that wasn't there before. She was nervous, whether of his potential reaction to whatever she had to say, or something else entirely.

She took a breath, her fingers tightening around his wrist as she composed herself. The silence stretched, though he could tell that she was steeling herself up.

"The—the Adrien pictures," she began, tossing a pointed look to the wall where they were. "I don't remember putting them there."

He kept his expression schooled, not wanting her to overthink his reactions. Careful and quiet, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"I-I mean, obviously I started putting them there, back when I first met him," she admitted, "but I took them down. They'd been down for a while."

Luka could confirm that. He'd been to Marinette's room before when she'd been sending in their Kitty Section audition to Bob Roth, and the pictures weren’t there.

She continued, "I-it hurt when I did it, but I did, and I threw most of them away. But then—when I wake up sometimes, they're back, and I don't remember putting them up. I-I mean, maybe I did but I just don't remember it? I stay up late sometimes and I won't remember falling asleep, so it might be like that, you know? I-I know you're not exactly like me and I'm sure you don't sleepily put pictures on your wall but..."

He smiled as best as he could, even though he was hurting inside. "I know as well as you do that creativity doesn't have a schedule."

She managed a smile in return, but it returned to a frown as she dropped her gaze to her lap. "A-anyway, I can forget things, but it's never been that bad, and sometimes they'll be gone for a while but then they'll be back a few days later. There's just—there's no other explanation, so it has to be me, right? I-I don't know if it's a sign or what, but if it is then I don't know what it's telling me? Because whenever there are a lot of pictures—" She made a vague gesture with a wave of her free hand, cringing as she added, "—something humiliating always happens. That usually gets me to take them down again, but then... well, you know." She rubbed the back of her neck with a hand, blushing in embarrassment. "Sorry, I probably sound crazy. I-I swear, I'm not trying to—"

"I believe you."

Her mouth halted mid-sentence, hanging open as she stared at him.

"I believe you, Marinette," he repeated, giving her shoulder another squeeze. He didn't need any further detail to know what happened, as there was no way Marinette would take down those pictures and then put them back up the next day, or even the day before that. It didn't make any sense, and while he hadn't seen the wisps of fate move things or brush them aside, he had seen them trip Marinette, meaning they had some level of physical control. It explained it all: the convenience of the pictures appearing and disappearing, as well as the amount of them there'd be.

"T-thank you," she murmured, her lips briefly moving to form extra words but nothing coming out. She looked shy, possibly from admitting something she hadn't told anyone before, but she at least wasn't so nervous anymore.

"You don't need to thank me," he assured, "but you're welcome. Just know that you can tell me anything."

She ducked her head, peeking up at him to ask, "How much do you want to know?"

"Whatever you're comfortable sharing with me," he replied.

"Everything?" She'd said it quickly, as if she'd blurted it out, but she didn't panic afterward. She merely looked at him, hope in her eyes.

He nodded without hesitation, wanting her to be certain that he meant it. She searched his gaze for a few more seconds, one last shred of doubt remaining, but he knew he'd convinced her when her body relaxed and she smiled at him with her whole heart. Her grip on his wrist lightened, her hand sliding off and back down to her side. He pulled back as well, his heart a mixture of emotions but mostly just happy to see her happy.

"I..." She turned away, facing her trapdoor. "I'm going to get some snacks first."

He watched as she pushed herself up, then stood as well to follow after her. "Do you want any help carrying them?"

She looked at him, confused. "You don't have to."

Instead of responding with the obvious - that he wanted to - he simply replied, "You're not alone anymore, Marinette."

He didn't need to elaborate for her to understand. He let himself get lost in the warmth of her gaze, hoping that he might see it more one day if he could ever get her string removed, even if her warm gaze would end up being for someone else.

[crackedoutwalnut]

Sleep (Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Y/N has been struggling with a case for three days and refuses to sleep until she gains headway. Natasha isn't having any of her crap and forces reader to sleep.

Warnings: Just fluff

Word count: 1,600

A/N: I originally posted this on my ao3 account and decided to post it here as well :)

It had been a week since the terrorist threats had been made on live television and three days since you had been assigned to finding information on the hostile organization known as Anubis. You were S.H.I.E.L.D's youngest and most skilled hacker. They had recruited you just over a year ago when your best friend, Peter Parker, suggested you to Nick Fury. You and Peter had met your freshman year of university; he was a smart young man, if a little goofy. The two of you hit it off immediately, and when he found out how skilled you were with computers, he immediately suggested you join S.H.I.E.L.D.

This seemed to have been a mistake considering you had been up for the better part of 72 hours and still haven't managed to get anything on these assholes. No matter how many times you analyzed the video, nor how many government databases and archives you cross-referenced, there was nothing about Anubis anywhere. The man in the video had been wearing an intricate black mask in the shape of a jackal, the animal symbol for Anubis, the god of death and mummification. You spent an entire evening alone researching Egyptian mythology and how the hell that could tie into a terrorist organization. However, seeing as Anubis has no digital trail or relation to any other hostile organization, your insomnia-addled brain failed to make any connections.

Groaning, you scrubbed at your face and took a sip of your now cold coffee. A total of four coffee cups, two Monsters, and a Redbull now lay empty on your desk. The caffeine did nothing for your exhaustion at this point; however, it was either that or go to sleep. You drained your coffee to the last drop.

Looking down at the bottom of your now empty Avengers mug, you sighed and stood from your desk. Shuffling out of your room, you trudged to the kitchen on the other side of your floor. You readily accepted Natasha's offer to share a floor with you in the tower back when the two of you first started dating. The prices of staying in the fancy university dormitories your school offered were outrageous, even for a S.H.I.E.L.D employee. You two often slept in Natasha's room, despite having a separate bedroom. Your eyes felt like lead at the memories of cuddling up with your girlfriend under a pile of blankets and pillows. Natasha usually did not like sleeping with more than a single blanket finding the heat stifling; however, she usually gave in easily when you pulled her down into the fluffy pile. Rubbing your eye with the side of your fist, you pushed the cozy memories aside and set your mug under the Keurig. Blindly you reached out to grab a coffee pod from a rack to the left of the coffee machine. Your drowsy limbs allowed the pod to slip from your fingers, rolling under the counter.

"Shit," you cursed, crouching down to look for the coffee. After a few moments of clumsily looking for the pod, you finally grasped it and went to stand.

"I've been looking for that shirt," a voice rasped sleepily.

You jumped and whirled around to see Natasha leaning against the kitchen counter. Her shoulder-length red hair was ruffled, and the plain black tank top she wore was askew. You looked down at the Captain America t-shirt that hung down to your bare thighs, "Didn't you steal this shirt from Steve?" you asked with a raised brow.

Natasha shrugged, "He never noticed, so it's mine fair and square."

Turning to face the coffee machine once again, you inserted the coffee pod and pushed the start button. "I'm not sure that's how it works." Natasha chuckled and strode up behind you. She wrapped her arms around your middle, kissing the side of your head. You hummed and leaned back against her, feeling the toned muscles of her stomach and biceps supporting you. She was firm but soft, like an expensive mattress. On lazy days you loved to read with your head resting against her chest. She would idly thread her fingers through your hair and listen to you softly whisper the words on the page. Sighing you, nuzzled the back of your head against the crook of her neck. Your eyes slipped shut as her fingers lightly traced your stomach.

"Where have you been? I have barely seen you these past three days."

"Busy with the Anubis case."

She spun you around lightly and inspected you, her brows furrowed slightly. "You look awful."

You snorted and nudged her, "Thanks, Babe."

She raised a brow, "When was the last time you slept?"

"I took a nap around lunch." You didn't mention that it had only been an hour long for fear of being on the receiving end of the assassin's wrath.

"Y/N..." she warned lightly. "you can't go that long without sleep. It isn't healthy."

You stepped away from her and shrugged, "I'm fine, I just need to clear a few more things up about these assholes, and then I will rest, I promise." You turned around and grabbed the steaming coffee cup. However, Natasha grabbed it from you and set it behind her on the counter. Groaning in protest, you went to reach behind her to grab it. "Nat, come on, I'm fine."

"You look terrible, Y/N," Natasha argued, grabbing your arms gently. "I know you want to prove yourself to Fury and the rest; however, you are of no use to anyone if you are too tired to do your job."

You huffed and looked down at the tiled floor beneath you. She was right, as always. Your mind was foggy and slow, making it hard to do anything productive. A couple of times, you drifted off at your desk. Not that you were going to admit any of that to her, though. "Fine, I will take a nap," you conceded, "But, you have to wake me up at 6. Got it?"

Natasha glanced at the oven clock that read 2:45 before nodding her agreement, "Alright, now let's get you to bed," She wrapped an arm around you and guided you to her room. Inside her sparsely decorated room, she had gathered three extra blankets as if knowing you were going to be joining her. You cursed her for being so persuasive. She laid down under the many blankets and gently pulled you down with her. The moment your body hit the mattress, you felt your body turn leaden. Relief crept through your bones as you leaned into the warm comfort. Natasha wrapped her arms around you and pulled your limp body against her front. You went slack as you felt her soft hands stroke up and down your sides. Your girlfriend pressed a kiss to the base of your neck and hummed contently. A cozy feeling settled in your chest as you let your eyes slip closed.

"One of these days, I'm going to convince you to let me be the big spoon," you joked drowsily.

She snorted and laid another kiss to the top of your head, "In your dreams." You rolled over and burrowed your head under Natasha's chin, her red curls tickling your cheeks. You wrapped an arm around her waist and slung a leg over her own. She chuckled and tightened her grip around you before tucking you more firmly against her. "You're too much of a koala to be a big spoon," she murmured against the top of your head. Her hand crept under your shirt and started tracing imaginary shapes against your back.

You huffed and nuzzled against the column of her neck. "We'll see," you slurred drowsily. Your eyes were now sealed shut with exhaustion and your limbs too heavy to move.

"Shhh, go to sleep," Natasha whispered, squeezing you gently.

"Remember, 6 am..." you trailed off to sleep before finishing the thought.

"We'll see," she murmured.

When you woke up, you found Natasha typing away on her laptop next to you. She wore different clothes than the ones she wore earlier that morning, sweatpants and a red hoodie. You groaned and sat up, rubbing your eyes. "I thought you were going to wake me up?" You questioned, shooting her an accusatory look.

Natasha looked up and smirked, "Oops, my bad. I guess I forgot," she shrugged innocently.

"Natasha, I was serious; I have so much work to do," you complained, moving to get out of bed. Checking the alarm clock on the bedside table, you gasped when it read 3 pm.

Before you could fully slip out from under the blankets, Natasha set her laptop aside and pulled you on top of her. You yelped in surprise as your head fell back onto her lap. "Come on, stay in bed with me. You have three hours until 6 anyways."

You scowled, "That is not the 6 o'clock I was referring to, and you know it."

Natasha grinned and shrugged, "You never specified; how was I supposed to know which one you were talking about?"

"You're an asshole," you complained.

She poked her lip out in mock sympathy and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "Oh, I know I'm terrible, aren't I? Making sure my girlfriend is well-rested and not overdosing on caffeine, simply awful."

"I'm glad you agree," you muttered, struggling to stand up off her lap.

Natasha wrapped two strong arms around your middle and pulled you further against her, "Come on, three more hours," she moved so that her lips grazed your ear, "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

You melted at her tone and sighed, "Fine, but if you don't wake me up at 6 pm, I swear I'm breaking up with you."

Your girlfriend kissed your cheek and nuzzled against you, "Sure you will."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 7

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, anger, humiliation, control, violence, threats.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: Here’s the finale for Thor’s part in our Birch story! Yay! But is it yay? We never known with his BDE (Big Doofus Energy). But anyway, here we go.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Chapter 7: Baby, eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones

The morning light was pale as it slipped in between the curtains and sent a shiver through you as an immovable warmth blazed against your back and clung to your body. The night ended as well as it could have, which was poorly. Your drunken outburst settled in your gut in sour alcoholic regret.

You shifted your legs, thighs tender from the last of Thor’s irritation, and carefully sat up so that his arm fell away from you. He grumbled and rolled onto his side as he tickled your spine.

“Where’re you going?” he asked groggily.

“Coffee,” you said curtly as you touched your forehead.

“Mmmm,” he hummed and the bed creaked as he turned flat onto his back and stretched.

You stood and went to your dresser. You pulled out a night shirt and swooped it over your head, your head pulsing with your unthinking excess. You glanced back at Thor, his thick torso naked above the messy blankets as he laid with his eyes shut and arms wide. His blonde hair fanned out around his head as his chest rose and fell steadily.

You left him and went to the kitchen, tiles cool beneath your feet and the air toasty as the radiator sent off waves of stolid heat. You measured the coffee and fed the machine water. You tiptoed into the hallway and took your purse from the shoe rack and searched out your emergency bottle of Advil. You swallowed them dry and went back to stand at the counter and listen to the grind.

You watched the trickle of the dark brew as it began to spit into the pot. You hung your head and leaned on the linoleum top, fingers tapping as the stream continued. You heard his yawn and his footsteps on the hardwood before they met the tile. You didn’t bother to look over and instead opened the cupboard to pull out a mug.

As you set it down, Thor came up behind you and reached to grab one of his own. He held himself flush to your back as the porcelain clinked down beside your own and he pressed against you until your hips were at the counter. You sighed and focused on the trickle of coffee.

He hummed and nuzzled your head as he drew a hand back to feel along your thigh. He brushed his fingertips over your ass and squeezed. 

“Please, I’m hungover,” you moaned, “I just want coffee--”

“I’ll be gentle,” he cooed, “besides what better to relieve some tension?”

“Don’t you ever have enough?” you scowled as he lifted your night shirt and gripped your hips, fingers tracing the line of your curves.

“Of you? Never,” he said, “last night… you know I like your teeth, kitten, but there is a time for them to come out. That wasn’t it.”

“What do you want from me?” you gritted your teeth as he continued to feel you up. You realised as his arousal grazed your ass that he was still naked, “why can’t you stop? I never wanted--”

“I’m good to you, kitten,” he intoned, “a man like me, we aren’t nice too many.”

“Nice? Is that what--”

“You goad me,” his voice deepened as he pushed his hand between your legs, “you walk a very thin line, kitten. I’d as soon grab you by the scruff.”

He bent and dragged his lips along your neck as he spread your cunt and flicked his middle finger along your clit. You hissed and gripped the counter. His touch rippled through you and you closed your eyes in futile resistance.

“But I pet you nice,” he coaxed, “don’t I?”

“Thor--”

“Mmm, that’s exactly what I want to hear,” he grazed your skin with his teeth and nipped.

You held your breath as he added another finger and played with you. You still felt the night before but the new sensations dulled the lingering ache. You quivered as he slid further back and teased your entrance, rocking his hips so that his hardness rubbed against you firmly.

You tensed as he poked a finger inside of you then another. He sank down to his knuckles and curled them, his hand against your clit as he squeezed. His hot breath seeped below your shirt as you own hitched. He shoved another finger into you and you gulped as he stretched you.

You heard how wet you were as your walls clenched him hungrily. You hated that your body responded to him so eagerly even as that voice in the back of your head kept whispering back at you to stop.

He urged you back against him and tilted your pelvis, his other hand kneading the flesh along your thigh. He trailed around your ass and stroked himself as he angled his tip along your cheeks and bent his knees to poke against his fingers.

He slid his fingers out of you and kept them on your clit as he pressed his cock along your entrance. He eased into you slowly as he drew circles around your bud. You trembled and bit your lip as you hung your head and he bit into your shoulder as he sank to his limit.

He rocked slowly as the coil twisted around his fingertips and your walls clung to him. You spread your hands flat on the counter as he moved you against it, hips hitting the curled edge of the linoleum.

Your helplessness turned into desperation to get off. You leaned back into him as you stood on your toes, back arching as you welcomed each cloying thrust of his hips. Your voice fluttered from you and echoed in your head. You muffled yourself with your palm and he tore your hand away.

He swirled his fingers faster and you breathed through your nose as you held in the rising glee. You growled as you came, legs shaking and cunt gripping him tightly. He took your orgasm as a cue and sped up, the impact of your hips growing painful against the counter.

You felt another climax about to erupt inside of you but your nerves spiked in another way as an unexpected knock sounded. Thor grunted but never wavered as he kept fucking you. He snaked his thick arm around your neck and forced you against him entirely, nearly taking you off your feet as his other hand stayed between your legs.

The knock came again, louder and impatient. Thor’s bicep pressed to your throat as your head lolled along his shoulder. He growled and his flesh slapped harder against yours as he chased his own release. Tap, tap, tap.

“One second!” he called to the door and choked on his voice.

He rammed into you hard and you felt the sudden flow inside of you. He didn’t slow as he coated your walls, not until he was spent and oversensitive. He shuddered as the knocking became constant and he let you slump against the counter as he slipped out of you. He inhaled sharply as it made him wince and he slapped your ass.

“We have company,” he said as he grabbed the paper towel and wiped himself off. 

He turned away and tossed the crumpled rectangle into the bin. You watched him stomp through the living room and curve back around to the door as he snatched up a throw to knit around his waist. You squeezed your thighs together and pulled down your night shirt as he turned the latch. You focused on pouring your coffee as shame bubbled in your chest.

“If it wasn’t snowing, I wouldn’t have waited so long,” Loki complained as Thor opened the door.

“It wasn’t that long,” Thor grumbled, “what is it?”

“You asked me to come here first thing. Do you not remember, brother?” Loki snipped and you sensed him peeking over at you, “though I might understand why your mind wandered.”

“I recall,” Thor swept back into the living room as Loki stepped out of his boots.

“Good morning,” he slithered and you looked over at him.

“Coffee?” you asked as you held up the carafe.

“I prefer tea but thank you,” he continued on after his brother and you huffed quietly. 

You put the pot back on the burner and slowly parted your legs. You ripped off some paper towel and wiped away the cum before it grew sticky on your skin. You quivered as you brushed your sensitive cunt and did your best to clean up.

You took your mug and sneaked out of the kitchen and down the hall as you heard the men’s voices. You didn’t so much as look at them as you escaped to your room. You kept the door open a crack as you searched out some clothes and flung them on the bed.

“Well, I was thinking perhaps you wouldn’t have to remain,” Loki ventured, “your organization will need you back as soon as this snow clears.”

“You hate this place,” Thor argued, “so why--”

“I hate your little band of brutes worse,” Loki interrupted, “besides, you’ve done what you needed. You’ve come to agreement with the locals and now you can be off to your usual… affairs.”

“And what about yours?”

“My business has always been cleaning up after you. You will need one here with the acumen to secure the deal and all its complex facets.”

“These men don’t sign contracts,” Thor scoffed.

“That is not what I mean. You know my skills beyond legal tedium,” he replied, “you are far too distracted to see to it all yourself.”

“Hmmm,” Thor hummed and silence rose. 

You took a gulp of coffee and clunked the cup down. You grabbed your clothes and hurried across to the bathroom and shut yourself in. You rinsed yourself with tap water before you dressed and listened again as their tones drifted through the small apartment.

“I suppose you make sense,” Thor conceded, “Heimdall hasn’t stopped calling these last days, or at least, I think. The service here… but I should be back.”

“Father, too,” Loki added. 

“Father, too,” Thor agreed, “well, let us hope this storm passes soon.”

You emerged from the bathroom and crept down the hall. Loki stood as you looked into the living room and checked his silver watch. “I will leave you to your… recreation,” he smirked at you as he raised his chin, “but I will make arrangements for my prolonged stay as you ready for your departure.”

Thor nodded and waved him away. He leaned on his elbow as he rested his chin on his knuckles and Loki sent you another grin before he strode away. He pulled on his boots and left with a lilted “goodbye” to both of you.

You waited as the conversation replayed in your head. He was leaving. At last. You struggled not to smile and instead neared and took Loki’s former spot in the slouchy chair.

“You heard all that?” he asked the redundant question. You nodded and his blue eyes flicked out the window. “Well, we’ve got some packing to do.”

“We?” you echoed, “I… what?”

“You think I would leave you here?” his mouth curved, “kitten, this little town isn’t our end. It’s our beginning.”

“I can’t just leave. I have a job, I have an apartment, and--”

“And? You can have all those things if you come with me. Better even. We have a national archive, I know one of the curators, and I think you’ll like my place--”

“I’m not going with you,” you interrupted, “you’ve done enough. I won’t leave because of you.”

“Oh? You think it’s your decision? And what will you do otherwise? Will you drive home to your mother? She’s got a job of her own and I don’t think she has any room left in her life for her daughter. Not a daughter old enough to take care of herself. To be in the care of a man rather than her parent, yes?”

“I don’t need you to take--”

“You do need me. You don’t realise it because you’ve not seen what I could do to ruin your life. Truly. I’ve been rather generous and I’ve shown you only some of what I can do. I can give you everything or I can take everything,” he sat up and stretched his arm over the back of the couch, “you don’t want to see what I can take.”

You paused and stared at him. All light was gone from his blue eyes and his expression was void of any of his usual gaiety. You sat back as his words struck you. A sudden realisation chilled your blood.

“How do you know about my mom?”

“I’ve always been rather serious about you, kitten,” he said, “so why wouldn’t I want to know everything about you.”

You thought of Bucky’s girl and Steve’s. You used to pity them and now you were them. You pitied yourself and knew then the true extent of their futility. 

As in all things, there was no denying Thor in this. But you wanted to, so much. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hit him, you wanted to run and never stop.

You got to your feet and turned away from him. “Did you want coffee?” you asked in resignation.

He was quiet for a moment. He understood and he knew you did too. That was your white flag.

“Just a touch of milk,” he replied.

You went into the kitchen and filled his mug. Yours was likely cold by then, you thought as you stirred in a cloud of milk. You replaced the carton in the fridge and stared at the machine. Your eyes crawled over every inch of the kitchen in a silent farewell. 

You never liked this place; not the apartment, not the library, not the town. You always told yourself you would give anything to leave, to make it anywhere else. You regretted those naïve wishes. It should have been good enough. It was but now you couldn’t hold onto it.

Your fingers closed around the mug and you felt the heat through the porcelain. You furrowed your brow and let go of it. You turned and neared the other end of the counter. Your eyes rested on the knife block and you reached shakily to free a blade from its slot. You gripped it tight and turned it to catch the light.

If you killed him, you wouldn’t have to worry about him ever again. And if he killed you...

What were you thinking? What were you doing? You shook as you eyed the knife but could not bring yourself to put it back. There was only one way away from this man. Any cell would be freedom compared to him.

You tucked it into the back of your jeans and took the cup of coffee. You went into the living room and found Thor on his feet, his jeans low on his hips. You handed him the mug and watched him as he thanked you with a smile. He sipped as his other hand lingered along the top of the denim.

“Enough milk?” you asked, the air thick in your lungs as the handle of the jeans poked your back.

“Just perfect,” he assured you.

You stared at him as the hate roiled inside of you. You hated him. You really did. It didn’t matter if he could get you off, that he could be nice, he wasn’t nice. He was one of those bikers. Hell, you could be certain he was a killer. You weren’t crazy, he was.

You reached behind you as he turned and set down the mug. You pulled out the knife and cocked your arm back. You were knocked back as he spun and kicked you, his own hand flying up from his waistband. You fell onto the floor and the knife clattered away from you.

He knelt with his knee on your chest and pressed the barrel of his gun to your head. He leaned all his weight on you until you couldn’t breathe. You croaked and slapped at his leg as you gasped for air. The metal was hard and unyielding against your skull.

“I see you’ve made your choice,” he said as your eyes crossed in an effort to look at the gun, “the hard way it is.”

You closed your eyes, certain it would all end with a bang. He pulled the gun away and suddenly the weight was off your chest. As you peeked out from under your eyelids, he grabbed you by your neck and thrust you up to your feet. He had you dangling from his grip as he walked you across the room.

He slammed you into the wall so that your head spun. His blue eyes seared as he snarled and leaned in.

“Don’t you worry, kitten, I’ve got a nice little cage waiting for you,” he sneered, “but for now, this will do.”

He wrenched you forward then shoved you back against the wall. Your head bounced off it and left you in a daze. He let go and you fell to your knees. He grabbed the back of your shirt and dragged you into the hall. He tossed you into the bedroom ahead of him and moved swiftly to take his belt from where it was coiled on your dresser.

He got down to straddle you under him as you batted at him weakly. Your were senseless and stupid from his assault. You thought of the knife on the living room floor and wanted to sob. He wound the belt around your neck and pulled it tight. 

“You better get used to wearing a collar, kitten,” he snarled as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours, “or you’ll choke from it.”

💀💀💀

END

[pastelwitchling]

Michael and Alex enter Maria’s mind.

As Michael and Alex sat across a sleeping Maria, Alex couldn’t seem to help but watch the monitors, and Michael couldn’t help but watch him.

When he’d asked Alex for his help saving Max, he had half-expected another rejection, another excuse, another blatant, “I don’t want you anywhere near whatever it is I decide to do.”

But Alex had taken one long look at him, something crossed his expression that Michael couldn’t read, and he picked up his backpack and said, “What do you need?”

Michael hadn’t let himself believe that it was him and Alex again, working together. He couldn’t think around anyone else like he could with Alex. Paths just seemed to open up in front of him, answers were made clearer, hope felt like something attainable. And he dared to hope now that with Alex’s help they would find a way to save Max and put Jones back in the pod where he belonged.

Except Maria was stuck in her own head and a part of Jones was in there with her. Alex’s eyes narrowed at the screens, like he was trying to find the missing code that unlocked Maria’s consciousness.

Michael leaned in, his voice quiet as he said, “Staring at it won’t wake her up.”

Alex gave him an unimpressed look that managed to make Michael’s heart flip despite himself. “Ha ha. I’m thinking. I’m not the science genius Liz is or the physics prodigy you are . . . but I know technology. There has to be something in the coding that connects.”

Michael hummed. “Well, if you find a machine that can read aliens and makes pancakes, let me know.”

“It doesn’t make pancakes,” was all Alex said. Michael started to smile, but Alex’s expression was grim.

He thought about the look on Alex’s face when he’d come into his own driveway to find Michael on his porch, about to knock on the front door. The way fear and guilt and relief and exhaustion – above all – had colored his expression.

He was just about to ask where Alex had been all day that had him so high strung when Alex turned to him, brows furrowed. “What about waking Maria up from the inside? Can’t Isobel do that?”

“She tried,” he shrugged. “Jones has her mind hostage.”

Alex pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “And you?” he asked. “Can you do that whole mindscape thing?”

Michael almost smiled. “Why? Afraid I’ll enter your mind and find out how bad you want me?”

Alex didn’t deny it. “What if you went into Maria’s mind? If Isobel already tried, maybe you can pick up something she didn’t.”

“Why would I be able to do that? Nobody knows her better than Isobel anyway.”

“You’re her ex!”

Michael’s face turned very warm very quickly. “It was a tough time, okay?” he grit his teeth. “And I thought we agreed never to mention it again?”

Alex sighed, tapping his foot on the tiled floor, and Michael watched the shifting shades of brown in his hair, his eyes, the pink of cheeks. Michael realized this was one of the reasons he could think better around Alex. He was always concerning himself with noticing the tiniest details about Alex, his hair, his gorgeous lips, his strong arms, that other little details came to him, too. It was like opening a gate.

So as he watched Alex now, he decided to try it. He reached out and brushed Alex’s hair back behind his ear, under his beanie. The strands were even softer than he remembered.

Alex started, tensing up, until Michael let the back of his fingers trail down, gently grazing the side of Alex’s neck. Alex exhaled shakily and a light shined in his eyes.

“That’s it,” he murmured. He turned to Michael, grabbing his wrist tightly. “Can you take me into her mind with you?”

Michael blinked, trying not to focus on Alex’s fingers as the gripped him. “You want to take a tour of Maria’s mind? You sure about that?”

“Jones will be expecting any one of you,” Alex said, “except me and Kyle. Kyle . . . can’t be here right now. I’m the only surprise element you’ve got.”

Michael considered that. “We might be able to startle him just enough to shake his hold loose –”

“—Enough for Maria to slip free and give us information.”

Michael did smile this time. “Genius.”

Alex blushed, and looked back to Maria. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Michael stared, unable to help but bite his lower lip at the red in Alex’s cheeks. He held out his hand. “I actually do need you to hold my hand this time, Private.”

Alex, if it was possible, turned even redder, and carefully put his hand in Michael’s like he was worried Michael was joking and would push him away at any second.

As if, Michael thought, gripping Alex’s hand unbearably tight.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of Alex’s muscle against his own, Alex’s warmth, Alex’s scent. He didn’t think it was what he was supposed to be thinking of, but it worked anyway as one second they were sitting in a hospital room, and the next, they were standing in the Wild Pony, music playing in the background, the lights casting a warm yellow glow.

“Where is everyone?” Alex asked, looking around at the empty space.

Michael shook his head, already starting to say he didn’t know, when Maria stepped out of the backroom behind the bar, looking just as confused.

“Michael? Alex?”

“It worked,” Michael huffed. “Good thinking, Private.”

But Alex wasn’t looking at Michael. He was looking down at their combined hands. He quickly let go, and stepped forward to hug Maria. Michael tried to ignore the cold after letting Alex go, and stayed close to him.

“How did –” Maria was shaking her head as she sat down. “Why –”

“It was Alex’s idea,” Michael said, and he told her the plan.

“I should’ve known,” Maria said with a grateful look at Alex. “Always the hero.”

“Yeah,” Alex said grimly. “I feel very heroic. Look, do you have anything you can tell us about what Jones is planning to do with Max? Anything that’ll help us wake you up?”

Maria’s brows furrowed as she thought about it. It seemed like thinking in here for her, accessing any of her own ideas, was a lot more difficult while it was under Jones’ hold.

Then she started to nod, her frown deepening. “Yeah, I – I think he said something about March in 19 – 1969. And – and something that happened then with the aliens.” She put a hand to her head and hissed. “I-I’m sorry, that’s all I can think of.”

None of it made any sense to Michael, as the crash had been in 1947, not almost twenty years later, but when he turned to Alex to complain, he found Alex’s eyes wide, realization dawning.

“Alex?”

“Oh my god,” Alex murmured. “It can’t be . . .” He looked to Michael. “I know what to do.”

Michael straightened. “What? What do you mean –”

But before he could ask, Maria gasped suddenly and grabbed Alex’s hand with both of hers, holding on tightly as if terrified he would disappear if she let go. She was looking at him as though he’d been stabbed.

She shook her head. “S-Something terrible is going to happen to you.” She turned to Michael. He’d never seen her so serious. “Protect him with your life, Guerin.”

Michael frowned, an uneasy dread climbing in his chest and building too quickly for his liking.

“Maria,” Alex frowned, “what’re you . . .”

Just then, the Wild Pony started shaking, like an earthquake had suddenly struck. Maria winced and held her head in her hands. “He’s back,” she warned. “You have to leave! GO!”

Michael blinked with a gasp, and the next second, he was back in his chair in the hospital across a sleeping Maria, Alex panting beside him. They were still holding hands. Michael gripped tighter.

“What did she mean, something terrible was going to happen?” he demanded. “Alex, what was she talking about?”

Alex only shook his head, looking just as lost but not nearly as distressed. “I have no idea.”

[wizkiddx]

was thinking for toms most recent ig story it sounds like hes working out early everyday, what if u did a blurb where the reader does it with his and its like best friend --> something else ? sounded like a you type of story, id love if you gave it a go ❤️💕

oohkay so sorry this lit just came through this evening and I suddenly got v stupidly into it (if u put in a req before that I promise I am working on it I just got way to invested cos this is stupidly cute) xxxx

summary: what starts off as tom taking you under his wing and some sunrise workouts together might just develop into something more

“It shouldn’t be legal…. to be doing anything… this fucking early!” Spoken, well yelled, in between the fake strokes of the exercise bike and your pants. All you got in response was the two men laughing at you, no sign of sympathy at all, as your gritted your teeth - fighting against every body instinct to stop the movements. Your heart was pumping like the clappers; breathing shallow and rushed and your arms… your arms felt like they were about to fall off. Combine that with the lack of sleep from waking up before the sun did at 5 am - meant you felt like your were in literal hell.  

Why ever you’d agreed to do these workouts with Tom and Duffy escaped you. Being the new and rising actress, with a new supporting role in the next Spiderman, meant you’d spent a lot of time with Tom over the past few weeks. Not to inflate his ego either, but Tom had been a real life hero to you. See, you were the complete opposite of his experienced and seasoned professionalism - this was your first acting gig. And what a gig it was, the second biggest part in a Marvel movie. You never really believed you’d get the part and even when you did, were pretty sure it was some elaborate joke, where Ant and Dec were going to jump out from some corner and go ‘ha its a prank!’ or something. 

Yet somehow it was all still happening, you had been flown halfway across the world to spend three months alone on a film set. Well obviously not alone, but you knew no one - you were a complete outsider. That, really, was the reason you’d agreed to do these sessions with Tom. He’d offered half heartedly while between takes as you were moaning about how out of breath you got in that scene. At that point, you’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, he really hadn’t expected you to commit to 5 am each and every morning. What he wasn’t aware of though, was how ocmplerly stranded and lonely you felt here, hence why you jumped at his offer. 

And yes you loved to moan and complain when you were there, however you were also so incredibly thankful he ever offered. Duffy, Tom’s PT, was a right laugh too and he took great joy in torturing you - and was also entertained by the new and inventive ways you’d insult him after he ordered you about. 

“Come on Y/n, 200m more and then we are done, even your little arms can survive that.”

“Really … not the encouragement… I was looking for.” Still panting, face bright red and blotchy as you pressed your legs straight again.

“Tom? You wanna help Y/n out?” 

“Nah you know… kind of enjoying seeing her in pain.” The British voice laughed from somewhere behind you, making you roll your eyes.

“Why the hell… are you not… torturing him?” He sounded way to comfortable and relaxed to be working hard. 

“He’s got a stunt heavy day today so wanted to go easy this morning.”

Now that was a bloody joke. You were BOTH filming the SAME scene today, doing the SAME stunts. 

“Did I forget to mention Y/n is on set too?” The joy in Tom’s voice made you want to do horrible things to him. Even though you felt like you wanted to collapse on the floor, you’d happily do a set or two on a punch bag right now - if that punch bag was Tom’s face. 

Before you could hurl some fresh abuse at your costar, Duffy called time on the rowing machine, turning the display off and passing your water bottle over as you slouched on the slidey seat. 

“Done good Y/n/n, I am actually super impressed with your progress” The stocky man patted you on the back genuinely, bringing a bit of smile to your otherwise grimacing face. He went over the chat to Tom about some boy shit that you couldn’t care less about, allowing you a couple minutes to get your breath back. As soon as you did and tried to dismount the machine of death, your ruined legs seemed to have other plans, shakily buckling so you ended up starfished on the floor, groaning at the dull ache that came with the sudden movement. 

And what show of concern did Duffy show you? A belly laugh that echoed round Toms indoor gym making you groan again, throwing your forearm over your eyes. It was in fact the curly haired brunette, who came and knelt by your side, wordlessly balling up the towel and placing it under your head as you shot your eyes open in shock. 

“You okay? Sorry… I might’ve taken our friendly competition a bit too far.”

“I just… just might have to gain the power of flight this afternoon cos my legs aren’t gonna bloody work.” Tom chuckled and shook his head at your dry humour. 

“Oh I’m sure we can talk to Jon and get that arranged… not like Marvel don’t spend years crafting the script and storyline for a newbie actor to change it all.”

“Might I remind you… they wouldn’t have to if your weren’t such a dickhead!” You exclaimed, sitting up and staring at him with an exasperated look than only made him burst out laughing again. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry… I just cant take you seriously when you look like such a tomato!” His voice went an octave higher as he laughed at himself, the situation getting even worse for you when you heard Duffy join in too. 

The boy was bloody lucky you couldn’t lift your arms right now, otherwise they’s almost certainly be attempting to ruin his pretty boy face. 

/////////////////////////////

After a long day of shooting you and Tom were in one of the set buggies, being taken back to your trailers to change for the evening. There was a peaceful silence until Tom ruined it yet again.

“ Got any fancy plans for this evening then?”

“Well you know me, back to my lonely little old place and  frozen pizza - so living the movie star life.” 

“It’s a Friday! You not going out with your team or anything?” He sounded so bemused at your quiet plans, and mention of a ‘team’ had you cocking your head to the side. 

“‘My team?’ Tom until I get my movie star pay check I can barely afford my pizzas, never mind a whole persons wage.” You were still only three weeks into filming and although you spent an hour every other morning sweating your ass off with Tom - apart from that you’d tried not to impose yourself on him too much. You didnt want to look clingy and naturally Tom always had a mountain of people vying for his attention - you would go to the back of a long line. So honestly, you were still a bit of a mystery to him, right now you’d both only scratched the surface on each other. 

“Really? I know this is your first big job but I thought you’d have someone here?” 

“Nah… I mean I’ve kinda clung to the Marty on the camera crew but he’s going to see family tonight sooo.”

“Come back to mine. I’ve swapped Harry for his twin Sam, which is a bit of an upgrade cos Sam’s a chef. He just arrived last night. I bet he can one up any pizza you were planning on.”

“Honestly I don’t want to impose, sorry I didnt mean for this to be a pity party or-“ The buggy slowed to a stop and Tom instantly vaulted out of it, standing right infront of you and blocking you exist off the back sofa. Both of you were still in costume, Tom in latex and you in your corset-esque two piece, but then both wrapped in matching long line black jackets supplied by set. 

“No come on I’m serious… Sam’s dying to meet you and it’d be good to spend more time together. You know, cos of chemistry and all.” The last bit was a switch from his cool and smooth, normally easy going tone - into something a bit more… anxious? Just like that, before your brain even knew what it was doing, you agreed, smiling broadly and nodding. 

So barely an hour later, you were knocking on the doors to Tom’s mansion-ish rented Atlanta home which was much much more grand than what the studio had arranged for you. Even though you were here most mornings, this time it felt different. Yeh it was stupid, but you can’t help the way you feel and you were stressed. For no real reason… just, just because. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward at all  and you especially instantly hit it off with his younger brother Sam. Everything just felt easy and simple which meant so much more considering you’d felt so isolated an alone halfway across the world for your home comforts. Being British too, simply chatting to the two young men about your hometown and growing up was just so familiar, it really helped you feel less homesick.  Naturally too,  you’d fallen into a casual and friendly ribbing of Tom with Sam, making the three of you spend to majority of the evening cracking up (or in Tom’s case pouting at the abuse). It was a nice change from the two on one attack you got from Tom and Duffy that morning. You’d all cooked dinner together… well no, you and Tom had stood idly watching Sam cook an amazing chicken curry dish - which he promised to give you the recipe too. Honestly Sam felt like your long lost best friend, especially when it came to your shared ability to berate Tom for anything and everything. 

About an hour ago Tom had stuck on the film, effectively shutting up you and Sam - thankfully for him since Sam was just about to get to some rather embarrassing stories of Tom as a kid. You and Tom were on the longer grey sofa; with Sam sat  the other side of the coffee table in an impressively soft armchair - looking as though it was swallowing the lanky boy. The calm, the silence and the comfort was only going to go one way for you though. After your workout this morning, plus all the running and jumping during the shoot,  after what had already been a pretty intense week, it was hardly surprising that you didn’t even notice yourself drifting off the sleep. 

Who did notice though? Perhaps your brown haired costar who’d been stealing glances across to you ever since the movie had been put on? Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, this didnt seem to be panning out as a normal job. A normal job is something you put your all into, for a couple weeks, and then leave with good memories and a good pay check. Yes, he had only known your for a matter of weeks or so but it already seemed to be unfathomable to cut ties with you. How would he go without your kind mannered abuse everyday? You were just refreshing, new and mysterious. And Tom was more than intrigued, his interest was peaked. 

And it was stupid to feel like that…. Of course it was. You can’t fancy a colleague because things get complicated and awkward. Tom knew that. 

Then why was he now delicately draping a blanket over your frame and smiling smally when you hummed in your sleep, in what seemed to be a show of appreciation for the layer of warmth? 

Because you were his excited puppy of a costar who is giving everything she has for the job? Because he is worried and wants to look after you? Because he cares? 

No matter why, in that moment you were contented and as was Tom. Oh and Sam? 

Sam saw the tell tale signs in his brother. He saw the way Tom had been touching your arm or the small of your back just a little more than what would be considered normal while he’d been cooking. He’d seen the way Tom had been laughing purely because you had. His eldest brother never did anything rash, it was always a painfully slow process for everyone involved. But Sam thought this just might be the start of something. The start of a slow burn.

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ELEVEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: talk of sex and such, feelings Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: alright, this is terribly late again because im a depressed snail at heart, but its longer than usual, so i hope that makes up for it. If you read my fic at all, i love you. If you interact with this fic in anyway, i want to wed you. 

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack

MASTERPOST

You woke up in a daze of fuzzy but pleasant memories. You were trying to blink the sleep from your eyes when Josh entered your line of sight. He had emerged from the hallway, completely naked save for the necklace he’d been in the night before, little water droplets slipping from his curls to his shoulders. 

You shot up in bed, and as you did, the comforter fell away from your body. It took you a moment for you to realize that it was the air hitting your bare skin that was making you feel chilled, but it didn’t last long. Your face turned beet red as you quickly picked the sheet back up to cover yourself. 

He was giving you an odd look - somewhere between amused and concerned. “Are you alright?” he tried cautiously, still standing there stark naked. 

“Josh! You can’t just walk around naked,” you complained, stuttering on your words as they came out. 

He snorted a laugh. “What? First of all, this is my room. Second of all, it’s a little late to try and protect your modesty.”

You rolled your eyes at him until you realized what he was talking about. “Oh my god, we had sex last night,” you whispered to him like it was a secret, a tiny smile on your lips. 

He nodded, breathing a laugh. “Yeah.”

You experimentally shifted in your seat before grimacing up at him. “That would explain why I’m sitting in a damp spot.”

You could only describe the laugh that escaped him as a cackle, honest and unabashed. “Gross.”

You had to say you agreed with him. 

There was a cautious moment, where you stared at each other, both unsure of what to say. 

“Are we good?” he tried quietly like he was a little scared of what you were going to say.

You patted the spot next to you and he clambered in as he was told. You leaned against him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

“Of course, we are,” you assured, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. 

“If it’s going to make you feel better to pretend it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be mad.”

You pulled away and looked up at him with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugged, sporting a nervous smile. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You heaved a big sigh, shifting to look into his eyes. “Josh, I want you to listen to me really carefully, okay?”

He nodded.

You slowly reached up to cup one side of his face in your hand. “I don’t regret it - actually, I had a really nice night. I just think that it would be best for everyone involved if it didn’t happen again. We probably shouldn’t be romantic...or naked around each other.”

The expression he wore seemed like an understanding one, at least to you.

“You want me to make pancakes? Maybe chocolate chip banana?” you offered, giving him a cheeky smile. 

He couldn’t help but match it. “Yes. You’re probably going to want to put your tits away first though.”

“You first,” you quipped, smacking the back of your hand against his peck. 

+++

The rest of the weekend, the two of you spent watching Christmas movies on the couch (even though the holiday was more than a month away) while you worked on sewing the costumes. Josh had offered to ask the theater department if you could borrow a sewing machine, but you had been way too afraid of it to try and use it, so it sat in your room alone. That did, however, leave you to sew 26 costumes by hand. Well, more like 24, since Rachel had two of them mostly done. 

You were finding it oddly fun though, even though your fingers hurt by the fifth stitch or so. The hardest part was making sure you worked on the basics of every costume first - your instinct was to work on one at a time until it was perfect, but you knew you had to be smart about time management. Luckily, even though it was only near mid-November, Michigan’s weather was lovably unpredictable. The weather station had called for snow only through the weekend, but, in reality, it was Monday evening by the time it was done dumping snow - giving you a full three day weekend. 

Kate had been sending you pictures of the pieces of the set she had taken home with her to work on, and you couldn’t hide how impressed you were with her work. You would almost be offended at how good it looked if you hadn’t known she was an Art History major with a heavy side of sculpture work. 

In the last two weeks before the production, you barely got to see Josh. He would walk you to school, but then you usually wouldn’t see him for the entire rest of the day. You tried to wait up for him on Thursday night, but you ended up falling asleep on the couch, and woke at 1 am to him gently patting your shoulder. 

“Hey, you should get up and go to your bed.”

You blinked up at him, sitting up and brushing your sleep-mussed hair from your eyes. 

“You’re home so late,” you scolded half-heartedly, pulling your borrowed sweatshirt closer to your face. 

“I know, sorry. There’s still a lot to do, especially after we got snowed in last weekend,” he replied, sitting gingerly on the armrest. 

“I told you that I’m happy to help however I can.”

He smiled at you, but you had to admit that he looked over-tired. You’d been watching him burn the candle at both ends for three days straight. “It’s a lot of stuff that only I can do. Like going over the music and making the final set diagrams.”

You hummed in understanding as a response. 

“Want me to carry you to bed? You can come sleep in mine if you want,” he offered through a crinkly-nosed smile. 

You grinned back at him, genuine at first, but it quickly turned melancholy. “Josh,” you said under your breath. “I’d love that, but I don’t think it’s good for us to share a bed anymore.”

His expression fell, face turning blank. He nodded at you, standing and giving you a disappointed smile. “Sleep well,” he wished, patting your shoulder again once before retreating to his room. 

You stayed on the couch for a while, your knees tucked up to your chest, as you sat in your guilt. You had known it was stupid of you to have ever let things turn anything other than platonic with him - it had been undeniably fun, but he was your roommate, for fuck’s sake. You had to see him every day, eat your meals with him. Had you not selfishly let yourself go there in the first place, you’d be cuddled up beside him tonight. 

It had been so lovely having any kind of affection - platonic or otherwise - that you let yourself get carried away. 

When you finally got up and went to bed, Josh’s light was still on, his door shut for one of the first times since you moved in. 

+++

Kate took you out for breakfast on Saturday morning to a local hole-in-the-wall that she swore had the very best pancakes she’d ever eaten. She had shown up in a puffer jacket that looked so warm, it made you jealous. 

You’d been chatting easily about your classes and the play, but when you had finished your first cup of coffee, there was a lull in the conversation. 

You hadn’t meant to say it, it just bubbled out. “I slept with Josh.”

She glanced up at you through her jet black lashes, stony-faced. “Yeah,” she replied, way too calm, sounding like she was wondering why you were even telling her.

You blinked at her for a moment. “Did you hear me? I had sex with Josh.”

She nodded. “Do you want me to pretend like I’m shocked?”

You grimaced at her, and in a whiny tone, responded, “Yes, please.”

A nervous laugh escaped her as she fixed her features to display a surprised expression. “You did what?!” she asked - purely for your benefit. 

You groaned at her. “Okay, I get it. I feel so bad about it, Kate.”

Her cherry lips shaped into a puzzled frown.  “Why?”

A deep sigh filled your ribcage - you had been hoping it would clear your head, but no luck. 

“Because I desperately miss being able to be platonically intimate with him and it not being awkward. Before this, I was sleeping in his bed from time to time when I got too cold and we would cuddle.”

“Why can’t you go back to that?” 

“Are you listening? I slept with him,” you groaned. “All I can think about is him on top of me now.”

She scoffed, her chipped nails tapping against her glass of diet Coke. “Imagine how he feels - Josh had real, honest to god feelings for you, I think. Like for a while.”

“You said that, but I don’t know. How do you know that he didn’t just want to sleep with me? Like not in a conscious way, but what if he just wanted affection? What then, Kate?”

She had one dark eyebrow raised at you as she sipped at her straw. “Because I know that’s not true.”

“How would you be able to know that? Because you see him sometimes at school-” 

She cut you off with a confident smile. “I know because I talked to Jake about it.”

You almost blew past it - that is until you realized what she had said. The two of you shared a long, silent moment as you stared at each other. 

“You’ve been talking to Jake?” you asked, trying to keep your tone even so she didn’t know how excited that made you. 

“I have talked to him in the past, yes. He said that he already knew, but he was able to pry it out of Josh when he was drunk once.” 

You stared at her. “Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here right now, I think we can both agree with that. But can we start with you and Jake?” 

She huffed a disbelieving laugh as she set her hand on yours on the table comfortingly like she was trying to cushion the news. “Josh has some feelings for you - the real kind.”

In an effort to prolong the moment that it was time for you to speak again, you picked up a bite of your breakfast and popped it in your mouth. The moment always comes though, no matter how long you try to put it off. 

“I can’t,” you said quietly, shaking your head in disappointment. Then when she prompted you with a confused look, you finished. “I can’t risk it. I mean, maybe there could be something there, but he’s my roommate. And my best friend - there’s no way I’d ever get lucky enough again to find someone I connected with like that if things went sour and I had to move out.”

She licked her lips absently. “My advice would be to think about it - for literally as long as you need to. I’m confident that you’ll figure out what you want.”

You nodded, not entirely convinced one way or another. “It’s hard because he’s so fucking cute,” you said in faux disgust. 

“And sweet,” she added. “Don’t forget that.”

You shot her an accusatory look. 

After a long pause, a smile found its way to your lips. “How cool would it be though if we were both dating one of them?” 

She laughed, picking a syrup-covered strawberry off her plate and chewing it with care. “Not me, I can’t be tamed. Jake is really hot and everything, but I got shit to do, you know?”

You scoffed at her. 

“I’m definitely keeping him in my contacts though,” she said with mischievous eyes. 

+++

 You didn’t directly see Josh for the rest of the weekend, though he left evidence of his presence scattered through the apartment. He had left his hair mousse out on the sink and the toothpaste cap off of its tube in the bathroom, some crumbs of a sandwich he packed for lunch in the kitchen, and a note on his bedroom door. 

Can you please feed Penny a couple of flakes for dinner? If you have any time today, I’d appreciate it if you could spend some of it with her. See you sometime soon! - J

You plucked the paper off the door where it was barely hanging by a thin strip of green floral tape and smiled as you read it again. 

His bedroom was dim, hid away from the sun by his closed blinds. The desk by his door was covered in books - textbooks, music books, books for his English lit class, and one you’d seen him reading for fun on more than one occasion. On the hardwood floor next to his bed was a stack of papers, and even though you knew you shouldn’t you crouched to peek through them. 

They appeared to be rough drafts of plans for the play - nothing too exciting, but they were charmingly eccentric. He had done little doodles of his ideas for sets and props, even a whole sheet of costume ideas that caught your eye. You pulled it from the messy stack and folded it into your pocket. 

Careful not to spill any water, you moved Penny in her globe to your bedside table, but as you stared at her through the glass you frowned. 

You pulled your phone out and snapped a picture of her, trying to make sure you got an accurate portrayal of her size. She looked at you, sticking her lips out of the water in search of food. You remembered Josh’s warning about overfeeding her the first day you’d met him and it brought a genuine smile to your lips. You promised her you’d be back, holding your finger just above the water and letting her press her mouth to it. 

On the ride over to Petsmart, you had called your mom, asking if it would be okay if you borrowed some cash, to which she agreed to after her usual line of questioning. When you pulled into the parking lot, you checked your bank account just to make sure it transferred okay, always nervous that you’d get to the register and your card would decline.

You spent longer than you should have reading articles online as you studied the tanks, all set up in rows for purchase. They weren’t as expensive as you’d expect a water-sealed glass box to be, and after you were confident you had picked the right one, you still had plenty left in your budget for the dressings. 

You picked a couple of fun decorations - a fake log for her to hide in if she wanted to and one that looked like part of a broken Greecian statue. The part that took you the longest was picking out the healthiest-looking plants. You had read that goldfish often like to eat live plants, but you couldn’t bring yourself to buy fake ones - the plant lover in you knew it was a cardinal sin. 

A very kind cashier agreed to help you carry your haul to your car, even helping you shift it all correctly so you could make it fit. You left him a secret tip, even though he denied at first, and thanked him profusely.

Getting the tank into the apartment was the hardest part. You realized just how lucky you were that you didn’t live above the first floor. 

By the time you got the tank situated back on his dresser, your muscles - especially in your legs - were protesting, but you weren’t done yet. You grabbed an empty ice cream pail and started to fill the tank, one trip at a time until it was about 3/4’s full of water. 

The decorations had to be shifted multiple times before you liked their position enough to start pouring in the gravel around them. A Youtube tutorial taught you exactly how much of each chemical to add and how to put together the filter, and then you left it to cycle as you returned to your room.

Perched on your bed, you pulled the sheet of costumes from your pocket and studied it. You pinned it to your corkboard. Undeniably, the cutest design he had come up with was for the door mouse - grey fabric, huge ears, and a rope tail. 

The rest of the unfinished costumes were in a cardboard box by the side of your bed - you hadn’t moved it anywhere because you knew you’d be back at it before too long at any given time. You bent down off the side of your bed and rummaged through the different fabrics until you found the one you were looking for - a grey-blue faux suede deal. You were pretty sure you had enough to make it work. 

You fished your phone out from where you had buried it under the covers when you shifted and called the one person that could help. 

“Hello?” Kate mumbled, sounding like you’d just woken her up despite it being noon. 

You giggled at her. “Hi, I’m playing my best friend card. I know you’ve helped so much, but can you please please come work on these costumes with me?”

She hummed and then went silent for a good, long moment. “Give me ten to wake up and get dressed.”

A beaming smile spread across your face. “Kate, I love you so much. I’m going to Venmo you money to get coffee and donuts, okay?”

“Hmm, I do like donuts.” She sounded pleased.

“Good! Bring Jake too.”

+++

The knock on your door came a half-hour later. You jumped from your bed, racing to let them in. Jake was dressed in the softest-looking flannel shirt you’d ever seen, a drink carrier in his hands that housed three drink cups. 

“Okay, so there are three jobs that need to be done. Measuring and marking, cutting, and sewing. If we each take one of those jobs, I’m confident we can finish a couple of the costumes today. I’ll let you guys pick first,” you informed as you lead them into your room. 

“I’ll take cutting,” Kate said, prompting Jake to reply that he’d like measuring. 

You handed Jake the notebook of measurements with a grin. “Rachel,” you started with a sneer. “Did a lot of the calculations for us, thank god. All you have to do is measure out the fabric. The tricky part is making sure you do it in a way that will leave enough fabric for the rest of the costumes.”

“Not a problem,” Jake responded with a smirk. “And I think her name is just ‘Rachel’, not ‘Rachel’.”

Kate shot him a look on your behalf. “I think she was just making a referencing the fact that Rachel left your brother with a huge ass list of things to do completely alone, not that she was jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” you asked accusatorily, a scowl painted on your face. 

Jake put both of his hands up in defense., but he didn’t appear apologetic in the slightest. Smugly, he said, “I’m just saying-”

Kate reached out and smacked his chest. “Jake, shut up. Okay, what one should we start on?”

“I’m going to have Jake start with this one.” You turned to the page in the notebook that showed the measurements for the door mouse, laying it out by him. “This is the main fabric. Kate, I have a lot of the Queen of Heart’s fabric measured and marked already, so I’ll have you start cutting that. There’s a lot of little pieces to that one.”

Kate looked at the six different fabrics you’d laid out for her, one eyebrow cocked at you. “Have you been getting any of your own homework done at all?”

Your cheeks flushed as you nervously rubbed at the back of your neck. “Let’s stay on track, shall we?” you replied, pretty much answering her question. “We’ve got one week until the production, and I know the costumes have to be done at least a day ahead of time.”

They both just stared at you in varying stages of disbelief. 

“Don’t look at me like that. We can do this,” you assured, sounding a hell of a lot more confident than you actually were. “Now let’s get to work.”

+++

When Josh got home, you were nearly sleeping on the couch, the remains of your current project in your lap. You peeked at the clock.

10:54 pm. 

“You’re home so late,” you whispered, for no particular reason. 

“I know,” he agreed, wiping his hand over his face after he took his jacket off. 

“Come sit with me a minute,” you requested, shifting so he would have space. He gave you a grateful smile, immediately crossing the room to do as he was told. 

After a moment, he cautiously wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Is this okay?” he asked quietly. 

You gave him a smile. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

You knew he must have been tired because he wasn’t talking a mile a minute like you were used to after not seeing him for long. 

“Are you hungry?” you asked.

He hummed, sounding like he was close to passing out. “I am, but I can make myself something.”

You scoffed, “Absolutely not. You got get into bed and I’ll bring something to you in a second.”

He reluctantly got up off the couch and clambered into his room. You waited patiently for him to notice the surprise, grinning to yourself when you heard him gasp. 

You listened as you made him a sandwich, and you couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but you knew he was talking to Penny just by the tone of his voice.

As you rounded the corner into his room, he turned and gave you a smile as bright as the sun. 

“Did you do this, or did Fish Santa come early?” he asked, his finger pressed against the glass of the tank. 

“Well, kind of both,” you responded through a laugh as you sat next to him on the bed and delivered his sandwich to his lap. “You can consider it your early Christmas present.”

He stared at you for a long beat, looking like he might cry. You knew you’d never be able to handle that, so you pulled him in for a hug, tightening your arms around him when he hugged you back. 

“You’ve been working so hard,” you whispered. “I miss my best friend.”

He turned his face, pressing his nose into your cheek in a move that felt a step or two farther than friends.

“I’ve put everything I have into this,” he admitted, and you were too scared to ask if he meant the play or something else. You sat like that with him for a long moment before he pulled away, giving you a thankful smile. 

“I’m sure you need time to decompress, so I’ll leave you be. Eat and then get some sleep, okay?” You stood and headed for the door, turning when he called your name. 

“Thank you,” he said.

[escapewithbts]

“Just Benefits?”(Part One) - Jungkook

————————————————

You stretched out your arms and shielded your tired eyes from the morning sunlight peaking through the curtain. Upon sitting up you noticed the space in the bed next to you was empty. You wrapped the sheet closer around your almost naked body as it had gotten colder without another human lying next to you radiating warmth. You rubbed your eyes and yawned before grabbing your phone from the nightstand. An array of text messages were waiting for you.

7:34am From Jungkook: Hey y/n

7:34am From Jungkook: Sorry I’m not there, I had an early meeting

7:34am From Jungkook: Stay as long as you like

7:45am From Jungkook: Also I just want to say I had a good time talking with you last night

You locked the phone without responding and pulled off the covers. Then you got out of the bed and searched the floor for something to put on over your underwear. You only had jeans and a blouse, so you opted for Jungkook's oversized black t shirt from last night and a pair of his shorts. They were massive on you but you were comfy. You picked up your pants and shirt off the floor and folded them neatly on the bed as memories from the night before appeared in your mind;

8:10pm from Jungkook: I had such a rough day. Want to come over?

8:10pm to Jungkook: I’m at work

8:11pm from Jungkook: Ok, after?

8:11pm to Jungkook: Sure. I’m off at 10.

8:12pm from Jungkook: I’ll be at the dorm, text when you get here so I can buzz you in

You sighed and clicked off your phone. This was the third night this week he asked you to come over and it was only Wednesday. You weren't necessarily complaining, it was better than going to your own apartment where you lived alone, but you couldn't help but wonder why he was asking so much.

You guys kind of had an unspoken arrangement; to spend the night at each other's places when the other felt stressed or in need of companionship. You would have sex, of course, sometimes cuddle a little bit after, and then go on about your days the next morning.

You had met through one of your close friends, Kim Namjoon. He was in the same band as Jungkook, the famous k-pop group BTS. You had known Jungkook through RM for years now, you wouldn't have said you were friends, but you were always friendly and liked hanging out with him in a group. This part of your relationship with Jungkook however was relatively new.

It had all started one night when you were hanging out at their place with all of them, watching movies and drinking... maybe a little too much. All the other guys had gone to bed, leaving you and Jungkook alone and tipsy. Jungkook had always been shy, just like you, so when the two of you ended up kissing on the couch it took you both by surprise. One thing lead to another and before you knew it you were both naked in his bed. The sex was good, no great, so great in fact that you both knew you wanted to keep having it. And that's what lead you to this unspoken agreement you had. That first time was months ago now, and the two of you hadn't even talked about the future, nor the present for that matter. You were enjoying each other's company and not putting any kind of label on it... but you knew that always seemed to end up in a mess.

After work, you drove straight to the boy's dorm, notifying Jungkook of your arrival via text. You pressed the call box and waited for the front door to open. Jungkook answered after just a few seconds. He was wearing an oversized black t shirt and boxers, his long black hair was tousled about his head, and his dark brown eyes looked tired, his cherubic face slightly puffy. You had to admit, he looked very sexy, yet also adorable, and it caused you to feel butterflies in your stomach. You ignored them.

  "y/n..." his big smile and your name in his soft voice made your knees weak, "I'm glad you're here."

You smiled at him slightly.

  "Is anyone else home?" you asked quietly.

  "Jimin and Namjoon-hyung, but they're asleep."

You nodded in response and he stepped closer to you, pinning you against the now closed front door. He wrapped his long arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck, kissing your weak spot. It made you moan. How could he do that so quickly? You felt him smile against your skin and it sent a shiver down your spine.

  He took your hand and lead you down the hallway to his bedroom. It was basically a routine now. As soon as he shut the door, you were pulling off each other's clothes, kissing passionately between each layer removed. You never got tired of looking at him naked; his perfectly toned arms and thighs, his six pack and deep v hip muscles, the sleeve of tattoos that lined his hand and arm. He had a beautiful body, and that was something you had no problem admitting to yourself.

For being the youngest member in the group, he sure knew what he was doing. He was extremely shy on the surface, but that all disappeared in bed.

When you both had finished (you multiple times thanks to Jungkook), he laid down behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist and the other under your head, like a big spoon and little spoon. He lazily ran his fingertips along your bare side and it gave you goosebumps.

  "You've asked me here a lot this week," you stated matter-of-factually.

You felt him sigh softly.

   "Yeah, work's been kind of tough."

You traced the purple heart tattoo on his hand with your finger gently, then moved to the ARMY symbol to do the same.

   "I'm sorry."

You wanted to know more, but you didn't want to pry.

He sighed again and buried his face in your messy hair.

   "Your hair smells so nice." he said muffled.

You smiled.

  "Thanks."

There was a pause before he spoke again.

"Plus, I like having you here. In my bed."

That made your heart skip a beat, but you had to ignore it.

"I like being in your bed." you replied shyly.

He scooted himself closer to you, if that was even possible, so close that you could feel his pounding heart in the middle of your back.

"Um.. h-how was your day?" he questioned.

The two of you didn't usually talk much after, hardly at all actually, but this was nice.

"It was okay. Just went to work. Pretty uneventful," you shrugged, "How was yours?"

Jungkook removed his arm from under you and turned so he was lying on his back, his arm resting under his head. You did the same.

"Aishh, it was okay. It's been a little stressful lately. It's different with everything that's been going on. We haven't even really experienced anything like it, obviously."

You nodded in understanding.

"But.. you still enjoy it?" you couldn't help but wonder out loud.

He ran a hand through his messy hair.

   "Yes, I love it. I get to work with my 6 hyungs every day. But..." he paused, "It's hard sometimes, too. We are constantly busy, constantly booked. Album after album, performance after performance, always filming something, doing press, shooting videos... it can be a lot. We're coming out with a new album in a few weeks, as I'm sure Namjoon-hyung has mentioned, so we've been trying to put on the finishing touches. It's a great album, I was able to write a lot of it and share my ideas and we're really proud. But there are other things I want to do, too."

  "Like what?"

He scrunched his face in thought for a moment.

  "Release my solo mixtape. I've been working on for literally years. It hasn't felt good enough, but maybe I'm also too picky. And direct more videos. I like directing a lot. I love taking photos and videos, especially of the people and things I love. So I don't know... stuff like that."

He shrugged.

  "I'm sure you will find time," you tried reassuring him.

  "Sometimes it feels like there isn't enough time in the world."

He paused before turning his head to you.

  "Sorry, for ranting about it," he blushed shyly, but gave you a shy smile.

You smiled back.

  "I don't mind."

He stretched out his arm, creating in opening between his shoulder and upper arm. He patted the space above the pit of his arm with his other hand.

"Do you... want to lay your head here?" he asked cautiously, hoping it wasn't too bold of a move to ask.

You nodded slowly and moved closer to him, resting your head in the nook he had made, laying your arm across his chest. You felt nervous, as this wasn't a position you two had ever laid in before. You couldn't believe how well you seemed to fit together, and how warm and comfortable he was. You closed your eyes and felt the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took. It made you sleepy.

"Thank you for coming over tonight." he mumbled, kissing your forehead softly.

"Mmmhmm..." you responded sleepily.

He caressed your hair gently over and over, lulling you to dreamland.

Before you were completely out however, you heard him say,

"I wish you'd just stay over every night..."

You left Jungkook's room and was met with the bright sunlight coming in through the large windows that looked over the city of Seoul. You desperately needed some coffee so you made your way into the large kitchen.

"I thought I saw your car here when I left for my bike ride this morning!"

Namjoon's back was turned toward you upon you entering the kitchen, but he still noticed your sudden presence. He was pouring coffee grounds into the machine preparing to make a pot.

"Good morning, Joonie," you responded groggily.

You pulled out a stool from under the kitchen island and sat down, leaning your arms on the countertop.

"And how was your night with our golden boy JK?" he asked teasingly.

You blushed. You had told Namjoon when you guys had first started hooking up, but it was still kind of embarrassing having everyone know about it.

"It was fine..." you mumbled back, fiddling with your fingers.

Namjoon turned around and you were met with his dimpled smile.

"Ahhh, I can't believe our maknae is all grown up... and with one of my best friends nonetheless!" he chuckled, "Life sure is weird."

You rolled your eyes at him.

"I wouldn't say he's with me exactly," you corrected him.

He cocked his head.

"No? Then what would you call it?"

You shrugged, avoiding eye contact with your friend.

"I'm not sure..."

He stared at you in disbelief.

"You guys have talked about it at least, right?"

Your silence was all the response he needed.

"Oh my god, (y/n), come on!" he threw his hand up to his forehead and ran it through his brown hair.

"What, Joonie?" you protested, "It's not exactly an easy conversation to have."

"Well of course not, but it's a conversation you should have."

You sighed. You knew he was right.

He leaned in front of you, placing his elbows in his palms.

"He likes you, (y/n)."

You scoffed.

"No, no," you waved your hands in disagreement, "he doesn't. Not like that."

He raised his eyebrows.

"He's constantly asking me about you, (y/n). Wondering what you're up to, what things you like, how he should respond to you."

You looked at him in surprise.

"He is?"

Your heart started racing.

"Yes," he continued, "You're older than him so it's intimidating. I think he's worried about saying the wrong thing, or coming off too strong towards you."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Why hadn't Namjoon told you this before? Were you that unobservant that you hadn't noticed Jungkook had feelings for you? Or was Namjoon exaggerating? Your mind was racing. You put your head in your palms and rubbed your face, overwhelmed with this new information. You groaned.

"I'm sorry, (y/n) I thought you two had talked about it." he paused, "So what are you then... like friends with benefits?"

You shook your head and shrugged.

"I-I don't know... just benefits?"

It was Namjoon's turn to groan.

"Ahhhhh shit, that never ends well."

"Well what do I do, Namjoon-ah?" you asked in concern.

He thought for a moment.

"Do you like him?"

You felt your stomach flop. It was a question you had been avoiding asking yourself. And now here was Namjoon asking you for an answer.

You ran a hand through your hair.

"I really don't know..."

And that was the truth. Though you had idea of the answer, you weren't sure you were ready to admit it to yourself... or anyone else for that matter.

"Well, I encourage you to try and figure it all out," he stood up straight and turned to grab two mugs out of the cupboard, "I love you and I love Jungkook-ah, I really don't want to see either of you get hurt."

"Yeah..." you agreed quietly.

He poured both you a cup of coffee then opened the refrigerator.

"Now, what should I make us for breakfast?"

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 4

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

A/N: DOUBLE UPLOAD! So i decided to split this part in two since i didn't want it to drag on for too long... next part will be uploaded tomorrow!

Taglist (reply to be tagged!): @planetdemon​ @hvunvely​ @fluffybitch0325​ @fashi0nablee @juststop88

You picked up the lanyard, looking between your burnt jacket in one hand and the vandalized piece of plastic in the other. The burnt polyester felt rough against your fingers. It was littered with black holes, almost to the point where it was unrecognizable as your jacket.

The lanyard, on the other hand, was almost untouched — save for the black marker that was sketched on the plastic. In the picture, on the part where your upper body was showing, there was only the black marker. The black blob stretched across your torso, the shape depicting a hoodie. Your eyes landed on the eyes in your picture. Thick lines drawn in the shape of an X covered both of them.

You quickly entered your apartment, hoping nobody saw you. You then stood completely still, listening to the silence, trying to find if anybody had broken into your home. After a minute, when it seemed as if you were the only person in there, you decided to lay the two vandalized items on your desk to further analyze them.

Your brain immediately tried to play this down by assuming that these were just kids who did this to your stuff, after all, it was something very immature. Children were the only people who had the time to play with fire and draw on other people’s pictures.

However, your gut told you something different. Why was your jacket along with your lanyard placed right in front of your apartment? Why was the marker outline specifically in the shape of a hoodie? Who could have known you were in the parking lot at that time of day?

Your mind drifted to one specific person. Manager Kim. He not only saw that you were in the parking lot that day with that jacket on, but also he knew your face from the lanyard. But why would he do something this childish? And how did he know where you lived?

The parking lot security guard had also been there when you wore that jacket, but he didn’t even look at you. And he would have no motive to do this sort of thing.

You rubbed your chin in thought, still not understanding everything. Was there somebody else that knew you were there?

Still feeling anxious, you began to prepare a cup of tea. You were reminded of Bang Chan. The tea. The smell of his hoodie.

His hoodie. The black hoodie.

Realization hit you like a truck as your eyes widened in disbelief. Was it maybe… Bang Chan?

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Hands shaking, you picked up your phone to call him, silently begging for the mysterious person to not be him.

He picked up.

“Hello? Y/n?”

You stayed silent.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked.

“I… I lost my jacket and it had my lanyard in it,” you tried to be careful with your words, not wanting to rouse suspicion from him, “have you seen it anywhere?”

“No,” you could almost see Bang Chan furrowing his eyebrows, “I’m still in the building though. I could look for it?”

“That’s alright,” you sighed in relief. He genuinely sounded confused, and plus, he was always so nice — there was no way he would ever do this kind of thing to you. You felt guilty for even suspecting him. “Thanks for offering though.”

“Y/n.”

“Hmm?”

“I know I said this before, but,” he paused, “if you need help with anything I’ll be there. I mean it.”

A chill ran down your spine at the seriousness of his voice. “I know. Thanks.”

You hung up, uneasy. The problem was unsolved, and to be honest, you were a little scared. There was somebody that knew who you were and where you lived. It was probably a good idea to change the passcode to your lock.

The kettle started to whistle. You turned off the flame of your stove and poured yourself a cup of tea, hoping that it would calm you down. Although it did a little, you still felt apprehensive about the whole thing. Your mood stayed the same the whole night, even when you tried to scroll through your phone or go to sleep.

The next day, you woke up with your mind cleared. No longer were you still feeling the aftershocks of the creepy jacket burner, and with your mood lifted more, you felt like you could think more objectively.

And that’s exactly what you did.

Throughout your whole week, this incident stuck in the back of your mind. Although your memory was getting fuzzier and fuzzier with the passing days, you still tried to work out who the culprit was in your free time.

Your mind was also filled with something else. Or was it someone else?

It seemed like, during the whole week, you couldn’t stop thinking of Bang Chan. You had to put part of the blame on him, though. Everytime he had a free moment in his busy schedule — granted it was rare that he did — he wanted to see you.

From secretly bringing you snacks from the vending machine to summoning you to his recording room in order to show his newest creation, he always seemed to stay busy even in his free time. You weren’t complaining, though. It was nice to have a friend who was so different from what you were used to.

You also spent a lot of time with Na-eun too. However, the time you spent with her felt different. Not in any good or bad way, just different. With her, it was mainly in the cafeteria, raving over the food after finally finding a free table. It was also trying to talk over everybody in the crowded streets as you two went shopping after work.

You liked it, sure. But with Bang Chan, every moment felt more intimate. Every smile, every laugh or brush of the hand. Was this what becoming friends felt like?

Other than these intrusive thoughts, the rest of your time was taken up by work. Although you were starting to get the hang of your tasks, there were still many mistakes made. Mistakes in which you had to profusely apologize to Manager Chen for, that you had to stay late nights to fix, mistakes which made you almost lose your mind. You hoped that Manager Chen could see your dedication to not only this project, but your job as a whole.

In the duration of this week, you managed to check in with every department involved with the project and partake in the finalization of the Mid-Autumn Festival content idea. It was decided that the group would do three activities: make lanterns, bake mooncakes, and share a fire while watching the moon. All while in the mountains.

You were surprised when Manager Chen asked you to come along to the shooting despite your inexperience. However, it wasn’t a chance you were going to pass up.

The week was hectic. So hectic, that you didn’t even realize it was almost over until Na-eun brought it up.

“Ugh, I wish I could just steal a whole tray of this food home,” you rolled your eyes. The two of you were raving once again at the cafeteria food. You wished you actually knew how to cook.

“Can you not cook?” She asked.

“I can fry an egg,” you said, stuffing more rice in your mouth.

“My six year old niece can do that,” she laughed. Her eyes widened. “What if I come over tonight and teach you? We’ll make fried rice, even you can’t screw that up.”

“Ha,” you said dryly. “I would, but I have literally nothing in my fridge.”

Na-eun gave you a deadpan look.

“How were you able to stay alive for the past couple weeks? At least you got skinner.” She sneered. “We’ll stop by the grocery store after work, I’ll teach you the bare minimum of living alone.”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Right after you clocked out of work, you met up with Na-eun to go shopping. You decided to take out some cash to pay for your groceries, an action that Na-eun found hilarious. She was almost crying as she explained that a few groceries didn’t cost as much as you thought.

Your trip was successful. The two of you made it all the way back to your apartment and didn’t waste a second to get started. Halfway through setting things up, Na-eun got a text.

“Hey, is it okay if Yoojin comes? I guess she got jealous that I was here with you and she wasn’t.” She chuckled.

“Of course,” you eagerly nodded. “But, wouldn’t it be hard to get here with her injury?”

“What injury?”

“You know,” you continued, “her ankle.”

“She seemed fine to me.” Na-eun said as she started on the rice.

“Maybe she healed fast.” You shrugged.

“Maybe,” she shrugged back and returned to her task.

You texted Yoojin your address, and it wasn’t long before she was knocking at your door. You opened your door, and she immediately leaped at you for a hug.

“Oh, Y/n! I’m still so sorry for that day, I honestly feel horrible.” She pouted, her big eyes staring at you for a response.

“It’s really nothing, Yoojin.” You tried to sound casual. You let her in your apartment. “But, doesn’t your ankle hurt? There’s a lot of stairs coming up.”

“Oh, uhm, the doctor said it was only a minor injury.” She paused. “And I heal fast.”

“That’s good,” you smiled, patting her shoulder.

“But I still feel so bad, Y/n.” She whined. “Lemme make it up to you. I’ll set you up with this really hot guy I know. He’s a law student. You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”

“Kim Yoojin!” Na-eun yelled.

“How about it? You’re free tomorrow, right?” Yoojin looked at you, ignoring Na-eun.

“I guess so,” you hesitantly agreed, “since it’s the weekend tomorrow.”

“Great!” Yoojin wrapped her arms around you, jumping up and down. “I’ll text you everything tonight.”

Yoojin kept up with her promise. After the three of you stuffed yourselves with good food, your two friends decided to leave before it got too dark. It was just a bit later when Yoojin’s text came through. You were to have dinner with this man called Kang Taehyun at an Italian restaurant tomorrow. Although you weren’t too thrilled with the idea of eating pasta, you figured you could withstand it for one night on the basis of trying something new.

You didn’t know how you felt about going on this date. Although you were excited to meet somebody new, something just felt off. Plus, you’ve never been on a blind date before. Who knows how good Yoojin’s judge of character was, or if this guy was like anything that Yoojin described.

You sighed, putting those thoughts aside. It was just a one time thing anyways, and who knows? Maybe this could lead to something. You looked over at Bang Chan’s hoodie. His warm hoodie that smelled so much like him. You should return it soon.

It was almost like he read your mind. As soon as you looked away, your phone rang with a call from Bang Chan.

“Hello?” You picked up.

“Hey, did you find your jacket?” He asked. You were surprised he still remembered.

“No… not yet.” You drifted off.

“Oh. We’ll keep looking for it, yeah? I’ll just buy you a new one if you can’t find it.”

You giggled. A couple seconds of silence passed.

“My shoot ends at six tomorrow. Wanna go to that barbecue place I was talking about?” He asked.

That’s right. Bang Chan couldn’t stop raving about that barbecue restaurant the whole week. He was really excited as his diet would end when he was done with his photoshoot, and he was apparently craving meat the whole time. All his praise made you very eager to see what the hype was all about.

You were about to eagerly accept, but then you remembered the date you had just planned not even a moment earlier. “Can we go another time? I… kinda have a blind date tomorrow.”

A few more seconds passed before you heard Bang Chan’s voice again.

“Blind date?”

“Yeah, my friend set it up. We’re going to this Italian place. Apparently he’s a really nice and handsome guy. He’s a law student, too.”

“Wha- law student? Y/n, are you sure you should be going on a blind date now? I mean, you just got here. You don’t know the city that well and you don’t even like pasta. What if he’s dangerous?” Bang Chan scoffed, his words got faster with each sentence.

“Chan, it’s okay. You don’t need to worry, I’ll be safe. Plus, I trust my friend.”

“You mean your friend you only just met?”

Silence.

“I only just met you as well.” You spat, slightly insulted that he would speak like that about Yoojin.

There was more silence that lingered.

“Whatever. Have fun on your date.” Bang Chan spat back, his harsh tone matching yours. Right after he said that, he hung up.

You looked angrily at your phone. Frowning, you threw your phone on your bed. Who was he to get angry at you for having a blind date? You recognized the dangers of meeting somebody new, but you trusted Yoojin. You were confident that Yoojin was honest about Taehyun.

A boyfriend would be nice too. Ever since your last relationship early in your university career, you haven’t had the best luck with men. It could have been because of how closed off your old friend group was. Your friends stayed consistent ever since you were young, and it was way too awkward to date a friend. You also found yourself way too closed off to go out and meet any new people.

Yes, tomorrow would be a good experience, you told yourself.

The next day, the hours leading up to your date felt like they had passed way too fast. The call with Bang Chan from last night still lingered on your tongue like sour candy, but you were determined to push past that in order to get ready on your date. After all, you didn’t want any frown lines to show.

You were excited to get ready. The amount of time it took to do both your hair and makeup was embarrassingly long, as you wanted everything to look just right for tonight. You didn’t want a hair to be out of place. You also took your sweet time to pick an outfit. Although the skirt you picked out probably wasn’t fit for the fall weather, you stuck with it anyways, choosing to layer a jacket over your outfit. One of your non-burnt jackets.

Double checking yourself in the mirror one last time, you locked the door and headed out. The streets were busy tonight. They were filled with people of all ages trying to relax from their tiring week.

Finding the restaurant wasn’t a hassle as the place was conveniently located at one of the busiest streets for weekend night-life. Dim yellow lights illuminated the tall glass windows just enough for you to see just the shadows of people enjoying their Saturday night. Green vines wrapped around the building, twirling and twisting their way around every crevice available. You tried not to fiddle with your thumbs as you nervously entered the lavish looking Italian restaurant.

“Hello, table for Kang Taehyun?” You asked the hostess. She showed you to a little table right beside a window. It was illuminated by a single candle, and already had two glasses of wine placed on it. And sitting at the table, hands crossed in front of him, was a hideously gorgeous man.

He looked like something out of a drama, really. With his tall nose and his sharp jaw, you struggled to convince yourself that this was a real man. His hands looked twice the size of yours.

“Hi, Y/n?” He asked. “I’m Kang Taehyun.”

He smiled and gestured for you to sit in the empty chair in front of him. You politely greeted him back and sat down. The two of you made some small talk before ordering. He made some suggestions on what to order, but you didn’t really care. You knew you wouldn’t like any of the pastas anyway. Plus, you swore to yourself you wouldn’t be drinking alcohol in front of strangers again.

“I’m surprised you agreed to this date.” You said, awkwardly laughing. “Isn’t a law student supposed to be really busy, especially around this time?”

“Well, I’m mainly doing this as a favour for Yoojin. She helped me with one of my classes.” He took a swig of his wine. “That girl is crazy smart. Or should I say crazy, but smart?”

“Oh?” You didn't want to admit that you were a bit disappointed he only agreed because of a favour. But he was being honest, so that was fair. What he said about Yoojin, though, took you by surprise.

“I’ve only heard rumors,” he tilted his head, “but some say that once in first year she went crazy over a guy. Started stalking him and everything. Apparently she even burned all his textbooks just because he started talking to another girl. They weren’t even dating.”

Your eyes widened at the allegations. There was no way any of that was true. You couldn’t imagine Yoojin — sweet, sweet Yoojin — to be capable of anything like that. There was no way her big puppy dog eyes and her fluffy hair could hurt a soul.

“Are you sure that’s what happened?” You asked.

“I mean, the guy was put into a mental hospital shortly after everything happened,” he shrugged, “so who knows? Maybe he made everything up in his head.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You nodded your head in agreement. Some of your hair fell on your pasta. You blushed, quickly trying to dab the sauce away using a napkin.

“You know Y/n,” Taehyun chuckled, “you’re cute. You’re not my type. I mean, I’ve only ever dated models before, but maybe it’s time to start settling down since I’ll be working at the firm soon.”

Thanks, I guess? You thought. You honestly didn’t know if that was a compliment or a jab, but either way you felt slightly insulted. You didn’t know how to reply to that, but it didn’t take long before Taehyun started again.

“I mean, look at my ex,” he said as he pulled up a picture of his ex-girlfriend on Instagram. She looked flawless in her bikini. “There’s no way I could actually marry somebody like that, right?”

If he says ‘I mean’ one more time… You thought to yourself. This date was turning south fast. This man was extremely handsome — almost god-like — but every word that left his mouth was poison infused arrogance. You didn’t know which was worse: listening to the man in front of you talk about his ex, or eating the pasta that was ordered by him.

You tried your best to stay polite with him for the rest of the evening. It was hard, though, as his cocky personality kept poking you down the whole time. It wasn’t until you finally separated that you had space to breathe. Great, you were left both hungry and annoyed.

Turning the lights on in your home, you sat at the kitchen table, still annoyed over your bad night. You took out your phone, wanting to scroll through the food delivery apps to find something to eat. Your thumbs began drifting.

No, stop. You silently begged yourself. Please, not tonight.

Your body didn’t seem to listen to your mind, however, as your thumb stayed hovering over Bang Chan’s contact. You pleaded to yourself to not press it, but your fingers seemed to have an agenda of their own. You pressed his contact. The phone call started.

One ring. Two rings.

“Hello, Y/n?”

You were shocked. He wasn’t supposed to pick up. Not after how poorly your last conversation went. You didn’t know what to say.

“Chan, how was the photoshoot?” You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t expect him to even pick up.

“It went great — feels good that it’s over, though.” He chuckled.

You wanted to tell him about your date: how arrogant Taehyun was, how fancy the restaurant was, how nasty the pasta was. You wanted to say all that, but tonight it seemed like your body just wouldn’t cooperate with your mind. And sure enough, you caught your mouth running before your mind. But this time, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Chan,” you took a deep breath, “wanna come over?”

[istanleyff7]

TOTP, Episode Aerith, Scenes 28-35

Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 2: Aerith Scenes 28-35 A Light Novel by Kazushige Nojima Translated by Stanley (@istanleyff7 on twitter) Scene 28

Aerith intended to find a job on her own, but Elmyra had already promptly sorted it out. It was to help the teachers at the Sector 5 House. Even though it was a job, she didn't feel that she was working because she spent most of her time playing with the children. She wanted to know about the world that she hasn't experienced. Yoko, who was older than her, had already left the house. She rented a house with a group of friends and made jewellery, which she sold in markets around Midgar. Jean and X collected machine parts from the scrapyard, polished them and sold them to people who needed them. Elmyra frowned when she told her this and ordered that she must never leave Sector 5 no matter what. 

"You said that if you restrained me, you'd be the same as Shinra. Have you forgotten?"

"I can’t believe you said that kind of stuff to your mother."

Elmyra looked very tired. Her work probably took a toll on her. If she had continued her "business" with Carlo and the others, she would not have had to work this hard. No matter how Aerith thought about it, she felt Elmyra let go of the business because of her. They were not a real parent and child, and she didn't have to care for her in the first place. Aerith wondered if she really had those inner thoughts, and she sure did. Was the given circumstances the reason why she tried to hold herself back with unnecessary words? Now, she was retaliating as a way to get back at Elmyra for tying her down.

Scene 29

"That's really sick."

"Yup, I admit it. My rebellious phase made things worse. I didn't have things to pour my heart and soul into, unlike you, Tifa."

"I really recommend exercising."

"Yeah, I’ll do that eventually."

"Yeah right… I’m sure.... You’ll do that eventually…."

"So, even though all these happened, I continued to help out at the house. The kids were so cute. They loved me. By the time I was fourteen, I didn't have much to complain about. But..."

Scene 30

After finishing work at the Sector 5 House, Aerith headed down the alley back home and saw people within the Gainsborough property standing by the entrance, unintentionally blocking it. There were two men and two women, and they seemed to be looking at the garden and the house. She recognised one of the men. His long, beautiful golden hair had not changed.

"Rodin!" Aerith called out to him instinctively. 

The face she saw when he looked back was unmistakably Rodin's.

"Yo, Aerith!" Rodin called back to her cheerfully, but for some reason, still looking about his surroundings.

"You've grown taller, haven't you? How long has it been?"

"It's been two years? Maybe slightly more than that?"

"Ahhh, yeah around that long."

She also looked at the other three to see if she knew them.

"Cheers."

Their eyes met. The young man with a large body and a boy's face raised his hand bashfully.

"Eh? Is that you, Marcellus?"

"Ah, you recognise me?"

"Of course."

Although Aerith replied that, she did not think that he was the same as back then. His physique became like his father's.

"I brought Marcellus here because, for some reason, he insisted on seeing you, Aerith."

Rodin took a step back, seeming like he made an excuse. There was a sense of discomfort. Marcellus darted his eyes from place to place and Aerith could sense his nervousness. He scratched his cheeks two or three times and started to speak in an awkward manner.

"Aerith. Firstly, I want to apologise for calling you a thief. Please forgive me. I was really a stupid kid.  I hated anything and everything about the world at that time. I didn't even control myself."

"I had already forgiven you. I'm glad you seem to be doing fine."

Marcellus's face lit up.

"Yea, I've been doing fine, thanks to you. Some thugs were chasing after me, then I ran away before a monster attacked me, and I was dying. Then I had a dream that you came to save me. For the longest time, I thought that it was a dream. Even if you were close by to me, you had no reason to save me, and you definitely couldn't be close by. But I had heard it from Carlo the other day that you knew where I was. Carlo didn't believe your reason. That's why he didn't tell anyone about it for a long time."

Aerith gave a faint smile, thinking that it was best not to deny or confirm anything. Damn you, Carlo.

"So I did a lot of research, and I've been wondering if it was the influence of the Lifestream. It's the flow of Spirit Energy. Do you know about it?"

"Nope."

She pretended not to know anything.

"Mako Energy sucks away the Lifestream..."

"Marcellus!" the young lady had been quiet the whole time, rebuked at him. "You're not allowed to talk badly about Mako Energy. I'll tell Papa if you do."

She then looked over at Aerith—

"My brother can talk about this for a super long time. Hey, have you been well?"

It was Rona.

"Yup. It looks like you're doing well too, Rona. How's Mr Meguro?"

"I can't say he's fine, but he's doing better now than when we left the slums. The air is better on the plate. You see, it's polluted and cloudy here, isn't it? I didn't know that until we left."

Rona was the same as before. She hurts people without meaning to.

"What's Carlo doing now?"

"He's working hard and is managing the business well. But I do wonder how he was during The Sector 5 Clash..."

"The Sector 5.... Clash?"

"You don't know about it?" Rona was shocked. "After Papa retired and Carlo became head of the household, the Corneo's, and some other ambitious, unknown people, came into Sector 5. Carlo and the others tried to get rid of them, and there was a bloody clash. Marvin, Roger and Bowman died, unfortunately."

"Eh...."

Aerith wondered how she could not have known about that.

"Well, things have already settled down, so there isn't an issue. And everyone has settled down where they should be," Rodin said, looking around again.

"Well then, Marcellus, Rona, are you both done? You both still can send letters in the future."

"Elmyra will be back soon. Do you all want tea?"

"I'm afraid we can't have tea either. We're actually not allowed in the Special District."

"Special District?"

"It spans from the station until here," Marcellus said. "It was established by Shinra around the time the Clash began. We weren't allowed to fight in the Special District. Anyone who breaks this rule would be executed. It was the only rule that everyone obeyed."

"I wonder what made this district special."

"Eh? Of course, it's because you're here, Aerith!" Rona could not hide her shock as she said it out loud.

"Okay! That's enough!" Rodin panicked.

"You both talked too much. Well then, let's go." Rodin urged them.

Marcellus hurriedly tried to arrange another meeting with Aerith. It seemed that he wanted to talk about the "mysterious incident". Aerith gave him a faint nod and dodged his attempt to do so. Rona invited her to come up to the plate to play, and Aerith replied that she would ask Elmyra. The four of them began leaving the alley. But Rodin turns around and points to a woman beside him. She was the one who was not introduced until the end. 

"This woman is Amber, and we'll be getting married soon. Would you please pass the news to Elmyra? It's unfortunate that I couldn’t introduce Amber to her."

Amber looked at Aerith with an angry look on her face.

↞↠

When Aerith got home, she looked at a stand, which had a vase placed on it. There used to be a television on that stand. She wondered when the television disappeared from the house.

"Ah..."

She remembered. It was a month after Elmyra severed ties with Carlo and the household. While Elmyra was cleaning the stand, the television fell over, and it broke. There was no television in the house after that. Aerith wondered if it was a coincidence or was it just to keep unnecessary information out of the house.

 Elmyra returned home late at night, and Aerith talked to Elmyra about Rodin and the others.

"Oh my, it's been a while, hasn't it? Are they alright?"

However, Aerith could tell on Elmyra's face that she was on guard.

"Hey, Mum. Do you know about the Sector 5 Clash? And about the Special District too?"

"What have you heard? We are living in a different world from those guys. It's better if you don’t worry about every little detail."

It seems that she would leave things in the dark again.

"The Special District is right here, isn't it? It's because I'm here. That's why Mum, you wouldn't let me go far away. That's the promise you made to Shinra. A promise to shut me in the Special District."

Elmyra shut her eyes and shook her head. 

"That's not it. But let's stop talking about this now. I'm tired, and whew, work was rough. The water tank in the café had broken down."

"Why don't you quit your job if it’s that tough? If you want money, why don't you get it from Shinra? You've been living on their money all your life. Nothing would change, wouldn’t it?"

Aerith knew she should not have said that, but she did. She could not see the look on Elmyra's face, and she then heard footsteps. Elmyra went up to the second floor and went into her own room.

Scene 31

"At that point, I thought that would be the end of my time in the house."

"But it had a happy ending, didn't it? I mean, you both went back on good terms."

Scene 32

Aerith thought that she could not stay in the house any longer and she was filled with emotions. Aerith firstly went back to her room, pulled out a suitcase she had never used from under the bed and stuffed a few sets of clothes, along with a few valuables, into it. Lastly, she put all the money she had earned from the Sector 5 House into her pocket and left the house. She walked down a familiar alleyway into a brightly lit street. A familiar face called out to her.

"Hey, Aerith. Are you going out at this hour?"

"I'm heading towards Sector 6."

She instinctively told a lie.

"Wait, what, no!"

"Don't worry. I'm not going to the Wall Market."

"Be careful, okay? Elmyra will cry if that happens."

As she walked along the street, she remembered her adventure with Ifalna.

『I wonder which direction is Sector 3 in?』

『Which direction is Sector 3 in?』

『I've heard that there's a church in the Sector 5 Slums. In the past, people gathered here and prayed to God, but nobody comes here anymore. I've been thinking that we should hide there a little...』

Aerith's steps became lighter. She still really liked this idea that Ifalna brought up in the middle of that adventure. The church should be far and beyond the station, outside the 'Special District'. It was the perfect place for Aerith's mood. The depressing feeling she had when she left home unbelievably cleared away. 

『Never forget that feeling, okay?』

『The feeling that you’ll enjoy anything.』

The memories of Ifalna came flooding back one by one.

Scene 33

"When you fight with a parent, adrenaline builds up in you, doesn't it?" Tifa uttered and seemed to be reminded of something.

"Yeah. That's why I couldn't stop and think about it."

"Yup. I understand."

"I've regrettably hurt people."

Tifa swallowed her breath after hearing Aerith's confession.

Scene 34

A train just pulled in at the platform of the station. That was probably the last train from the plate. Aerith glanced at it sideways and went ahead to try walking past it. This place was where she left her birth mother, and because of that, she still could not look at it directly. She felt as though the scene was still there. Suddenly, thoughts that she would be making a wrong move flashed through Aerith's mind. Was she about to make a grave mistake? The adrenaline she had felt earlier had unbelievably disappeared. The "Special District" was to protect her. Once she crosses the station, she would no longer have the protection. She stood rock still, as though there was an invisible wall ahead of her. Only the surrounding areas of the station were lit up. If she went forth, the road ahead would be dark. She could not see the future.

"Aerith?" a deep voice called out to her. 

She turned around to see a large man standing with his back to the station. He had big eyes, a big nose and a big mouth.

"Ahhh!"

"You've totally grown up, haven't you? You look like your mother."

It was Fuzz, and he was wearing the same white coat as that day.

"You've got the wrong person," Aerith lied at the spur of the moment.

Trying to get away from him, she turned her back towards the station and darted towards the darkness. She noticed that Fuzz was following her. She could not stop.

"Aerith, wait up. It's not what you're thinking."

Aerith wondered what other reasons could he try to stop her. She felt that she should not believe him and stop for him. He must have been angry and detest us. She wondered what would happen if he caught her. Aerith no longer knew where she was headed to. She was running along a narrow road, and the surroundings were a mountain of trash. By any chance...

"Jean! X!"

There was no response. Even if this were their scrapyard, they wouldn't be there at this hour. But she could not help calling out to them.

"Ahh!"

Aerith stumbled into something big and soft and fell. The suitcase she held dropped to the ground with a thud, signalling that it broke.

"Ouch..."

She did not know what was in the middle of the road at first, but it was the carcass of a dead monster. There was an unidentifiable sound coming out from it. It died not long ago. Its bodily fluids reached Aerith's feet and hands, and she felt a stinging sensation.

"You don't have to worry. That's harmless."

It was Fuzz. She looked up at him on her bottom. He was as big as she remembered him when she was seven. She noticed that the hem of her skirt was very crumpled, and she hurriedly fixed it. She looked for an opportunity to stand up and back away.

"Aerith, how could you do this to me? I've been worrying about you since then. Ever since you ran away from Shinra, I've been wondering if you've been living in terrible conditions. I heard about this from Amber, whom you met today."

"Amber!?"

Amber. Aerith met her in the evening, and she was introduced as Rodin's lover, and they were to be married. She had an angry face. Aerith then connected Amber to Fuzz. 

"Looks like you don't remember her. She was the friend who unloaded you both from the cargo train at the Sector 4 Slums Station."

"Ahh!"

So Amber was the grumpy-looking woman in the dirty work clothes that day. 

"I heard from her about where you were, and I hurriedly came over to find you. But what a close call. We almost didn't cross paths. I'm sure it was Ifalna who brought us together."

Aerith slowly stood up. Fuzz took two steps back, perhaps to assure her that he was not a threat. 

"Are you going to church, by any chance?"

"What?"

"I've talked to Ifalna about it before. She seemed to be very interested in it. When I told her I'd take her there someday, she said she definitely did not want to go. After you both disappeared, I went to look for both of you several times at the church, just in case you were both there. I prayed, but in the end, it seemed to me that there was no God."

A roar of a beast could be heard somewhere.

"That's from a monster. Here's the danger zone, especially at night. Shall we go to the church? Since we came all the way here anyway. It's not too far off from here, and it's nearer than the station."

It seemed that Aerith ran away further than she thought.

"But..."

"I see. Are you more afraid of me than the monster?"

She nodded honestly. He should already know how she was behaving towards him, and there was no point in pretending. 

"Well, I'll just walk ahead then, and you can keep a distance and follow me. If a monster comes up behind you, run away on your own. We can’t expect the vigilante corps to be here at this hour. And I must warn you, don't expect me to put up a good fight too. Just because I'm huge doesn't mean I'm strong."

With a thin smile, Fuzz walked away. His big white back disappeared into the darkness. Fuzz was right. She did not dare to go back alone on the monster-infested road. Just because they didn't appear on the way here doesn't mean they won't appear on the way back.

"Watch out!" Fuzz's voice came from a long way in front. "The monster is dead, but it's still fresh. Don't step on it."

↞↠

The "soon" was somewhat a lie, wasn't it? They had walked so far that she was doubtful of Fuzz, and after passing the carcass of the third monster, which was still fresh, they finally came to the front of the church.

"I wonder who brought them down?" Fuzz wondered as he walked up the stone steps and approached the door of the church. It was a big door. The style of the building was unlike anything Aerith had ever seen before. She could not see the entire structure even if she was looking up. She wondered what it would look like in daylight. The door opened with a squeak. Fuzz beckoned to her, and he went in. Aerith then went up the stone steps. A light, sweet scent wafted over from the church. It was a smell that Aerith knew. The inside was pitch black, but the floor at the back was slightly white.

"Look, the flowers bloom here. Regardless of whether there is a God or not, this is a special place," Fuzz said.

Aerith thought the same. Flowers bloom in special places. The same scent from the Gainsborough garden surrounded her, and she was soon faced with feelings of regret. She wondered what Elmyra was doing—wondering if she was looking for her daughter, who ran away from home. She wondered if she was going in the direction of Wall Market, taking the word of her acquaintance and believing him blindly.

"You can sleep on the bench near the flowers. I'll be near the exit.

"Thank you."

Aerith was not sleepy at all, but she did as he suggested and sat down on a bench near the flowers. She let out a big, quiet breath and felt every stiffness in the muscles of her body relax. She must have been tenser than she had realised. She felt like she was about to really fall asleep. She had to think of something. She wondered what would have happened if she had come to this church that day with her mother, Ifalna. What if the adventure had continued until the end? What would she have worked as? With little knowledge about the world, what would she have done? Would they have been able to live together on good terms? No matter how close they were, would they have disagreements? Since they were a real parent and child, would no problems arise?

"Aerith."

A voice came from a distance.

"Yes?”

"The house at Sector 3, it's still there. I've continued paying the rent since then."

"I see."

"Would you like to live together?"

She wondered what he just said to her. What did he mean?

"You'd like me to live together with you?"

There was no response.

"Fuzz?"

As she stood up fearfully, she saw that Fuzz was right next to her.

"Yeah. Let's live together, ‘I..fal...na…’"

Fuzz smiled. The pupil in his eyes seemed like it was not looking anywhere. A big hand reached out slowly towards her.

"Come here."

He was going to grab her! Aerith tried to take the suitcase and run. However, he caught her by the arm. 

"Let go of me!"

She slammed the suitcase into Fuzz's face as hard as she could. Fuzz flinched. The handle broke, the suitcase came off and flew off somewhere.

"You're heartless, Aerith."

She did not care and ran away. Weaving her way between the benches, she ran for the door. Fuzz jumped over the benches and gave chase. 

"Wait!"

There was no way she was waiting. The door was already nearby. She had to exit and run away. And what should she do after escaping? Fuzz knows where she stays. Amber, without a doubt, told him about Elmyra's house. Even if she ran away now, Fuzz would show up eventually. What should she do? Would she always have to live in fear? As long as Fuzz was around...

And Aerith eventually darted out of the door.

"Eh?"

Elmyra was there in front of her, dressed in her usual clothes as though nothing was wrong. Her face changed from surprised to relieved, and her facial expression changed a few more times. Finally, she turned serious.

"Aerith, move aside."

"Huh?" Fuzz sluggishly came out of the building, "Who’s out there?"

Elmyra hammered his throat with her weapon with all of her might. Fuzz let out a shriek of pain, collapsed and laid down motionlessly. Aerith was shocked to see what weapon Elmyra was using. It was a broom, and it seems that she had brought it here.

"Shall we go home?"

"Okay."

"You didn't leave anything behind?"

"Ah..."

She forgot her suitcase. There was something important inside of it.

"Quickly go get it."

"Okay."

She went back into the darkness of the church and went over to the flowers. She looked around and immediately saw a suitcase. The lid was open, and its contents were scattered outside. She gathered up the scattered clothes and put them back in the case, but she could not find her "treasure"—the pouch containing the materia.

"What are you doing?" Elmyra called out to Aerith, her voice audibly contained irritation.

"I can't find that materia."

Elmyra mumbled in annoyance and crouched down to join Aerith in finding it.

"It's in a little pouch made out of cloth."

"I know."

It's true. Elmyra knows everything about her.

"But, how did you know I was here?" Aerith asked while searching for the pouch.

"That's what I'd like to know too."

"Eh?"

"I knew that you ran away, and I soon went out of the house too. I thought about where you'd have gone as I ran. And then, while I was in the garden, I knew that you would have gone to the church on the outskirts of the slums."

"Why?"

"It just somehow came to my mind. Ever since you came to the house, I've had several strange experiences. I thought that it was this sort of experience again. So I went back home again and did some preparations before coming over."

"And what you prepared was a broom?"

"I wasn't exactly calm, you know. But it was useful, wasn't it? Look, Aerith, over there."

Elmyra pointed towards the densely grown flowers. In the middle laid the pouch that they were searching for. She parted the flowers away to not step on them, picked up the pouch and looked inside. The materia seemed to be glowing brighter than usual. 

Aerith turned around to look at Elmyra and was about to ask her shall they go back.

Elmyra was seated on the bench, and she was praying. She had her hands clasped at her chest, and her eyes were closed. The sight of her took Aerith's breath away. 

"I used to give thanks like this when I was a child," Elmyra said, opening her eyes as she stood up. 

She seemed embarrassed by it.

"Is it different from a prayer?"

"It's different today."

"Who did you thank?”

"Whoever told me about this place. Well, let's head out of here."

Elmyra started to walk, and Aerith followed her behind.

"Mum."

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry."

"Aerith, you’ve been talking to me normally since just now, but I'm angry with you. When I get home, you will face the music and hear everything I want to say."

"Okay～"

Both of them were completely distracted.

Fuzz had regained consciousness and was hiding behind the door. Firstly, he kicked Elmyra and sent her flying. 

"Mum!"

Fuzz tried to rush over to Elmyra and was drawing near her. She dodged his grasp, picked up the broom that she had dropped, turned around and struck the big man. However, the handle snapped right in half.

"Aerith! Come over here!" Elmyra called out to her.

Aerith ran towards her in panic. She saw Elmyra holding a gun with both hands and pointing it at Fuzz. That was the gun that Carlo had left behind. Fuzz stopped in his tracks and stared at the muzzle of the weapon.

"You take one more step, and I'll shoot you."

"Why don't you understand me!?" Fuzz yelled as he came towards them.

A shot rang. Elmyra had fired the gun. The dry sounds of gunshots echoed in the air. How many shots did she fire? Finally, they only heard the metallic click of the trigger. 

"Ifalna..."

Fuzz approached them as if nothing had happened. His lab coat was terribly stained, but there was no sign that a bullet had hit him.

"I can't believe this gun didn’t do shit!" Elmyra swore and threw her gun at Fuzz, but it flew well over the big man's head.

"Mum, let's run already..."

A bang was heard, and it was a sharp sound that cut through the air. Aerith did not know what it was until she looked at Fuzz. He was holding his left shoulder with his right hand and moaning. His blood was running on his white coat as he had been shot in the shoulder. Who had shot him? From where? Aerith looked around, but there was no shooter in sight.

"Let's go," Elmyra uttered in an awfully calm manner.

Fuzz collapsed and was writhing in pain. Aerith was not fearful anymore. He just looked so pathetic now.

"I'm sorry."

"Aerith, let's hurry."

Without delay, Elmyra started walking, holding the broken broom with both her hands. At last, Aerith apologised to Fuzz once more. She then proceeded to hug her handleless suitcase and chased after Elmyra.

"Hey, Mum. I wonder who shot him."

"I'm guessing this, but the 'Special District' probably expanded."

Ah. That makes sense. As they walked on, Aerith looked around her surroundings, searching for a black suit. Just for tonight, she felt that she could give them her thanks.

Scene 35

"What happened to Fuzz after that?" Tifa asked with a concerned look on her face.

"I never saw him again. Though, till now, I still get nervous when I see someone big."

"I see."

Whenever Aerith thought about Fuzz, she would still have mixed feelings about him. She did not want to see him again. However, she also carried guilt. Fuzz became like that because of what Ifalna and her did to him. If she never pondered about this, these feelings of guilt would continue for a long time. She wondered if she would ever get the chance to atone.

"You can talk to me about everything, okay?" Tifa assured her.

Aerith was delighted by her compassion. She wanted to tell her more.

"Well then, next up is a big one!"

"You gotta be kidding me. There's something bigger than whatever you said?"

"For that, you're right. It's about my first love."

"Oh, that's definitely something big!"

―It sounded like someone walked into the cargo hold. Tifa seemed to notice it too. They put their index finger to their lips and looked at each other. The sound of footsteps was coming closer, coming from the other side of the cargo wall. Tifa moved noiselessly to the gap in the cargo. It looked like she was waiting for the owner of those footsteps.

The time passed slowly but surely, and the footsteps came to a stop.

"It's me."

It was the voice of Cloud Strife. Tifa's expression softened.

"I'll tell you next time. About the story of my first love," Aerith whispered to her.

Cloud walked in front of them and looked at both of them with a dubious look. He made a face as though he was investigating them, and he looked ridiculous. Aerith and Tifa burst into laughter, trying to keep their silence.

-fin- ↞↠ You’re on page 142/142 of Aerith’s segment of the Light Novel Word Count: 29322 The End. Thanks for the reading!  Translator’s Note Previous Scenes: Scenes 22-27 Back to Content Page (click/tap here) Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 1 — Tifa (Coming Soon) Episode 2 ― Aerith Coda: The Investigation Unit Within the Painting follow @istanleyff7​ on twitter for updates support the TOTP translation project financially here (click/tap here)

[anika-ann]

No Strings Attached - Pt.2

Y/N vs. Dangerous Cardio

Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series More info here and on the Attached masterlist

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3400

Summary: It’s all very sweet until it isn’t.

Warnings: swearing, Steve in a gym, mention of a migraine, violence, gun violence

A/N: Enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not realy.

Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You woke up with a startle; some shuffling and a click of a drawer made your snap eyes open and follow the sound. Steve’s back welcomed you as he was fishing out something hidden to your sight.

What time was it? What day was it? Why had you been you sleeping when Steve looked like he just got home from work? Why didn’t he wake you?

…hold on. It was Tuesday and there were those Ministry people at the uni and the strange test and you got the splitting headache--- what time was it that Steve was already home?

You groaned when you noticed the drawn curtains, last sunrays peeking through and colouring the sky. Jesus. Had you slept through the majority of the day?!

“Babygirl?” Steve’s voice reached your ears and your head whipped back to him automatically, thanking heavens when your temples didn’t throb with the sudden movement.

He placed the socks on top of the drawer, making his way to you, concern drawing his brows together, creating those lovely worried wrinkles on his forehead.

“Uh-huh?” you hummed as you sat up, once again pleasantly surprised that the world wasn’t swimming in front of your eyes, no blurred vision, nothing.

Aside from feeling sleepy, you were… fine. Which was kinda strange, but you weren’t about to complain.

Sitting next to you on the bed, Steve gently sunk his fingers into your hair, dropping a sweet lingering kiss on your forehead. Lips never leaving your skin, beard scratching lightly, they caressed your temples next; and you realized what was happening, your own lips curling up in a smile as pleasant warmth spread in your chest at Steve’s worry.

He was lowkey checking for fever.

“You’re not subtle,” you informed him, both amused and touched.

His words vibrated against your skin as his mouth moved a bit higher again, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“Not trying to be. How do you feel?”

“How do you even know I wasn’t feeling good?”

He withdrew a little – not before he dropped a cheeky kiss on your nose – raising a challenging eyebrow.

“Ibuprofen on the table and you sleeping at five in the afternoon after only attending one class?” he offered with a smirk, but you weren’t fooled. It worried him. You weren’t a perfect student, but you rarely skipped class; especially Callahan’s class, because you immensely enjoyed it.

“Fair enough. Is it really five already?” you asked rhetorically, running a hand through your hair, catching Steve’s own and brushing the soft skin of his wrist with your lips; a silent thank you for fussing. He gave a brief smile, pulling you to his side, letting your head lull against his shoulder. “When did you come home?”

“Just a few minutes ago, unfortunately. Kept messing stuff up when I wanted to leave the office.”

Because I was worried, was left unspoken and you sighed, wrapping your arm around Steve’s stomach, drawing soothing circles on his side.

Steve was a mother hen; it wasn’t something that was widely known about him, but you had had several opportunities to experience it and you loved it… most of the time. Then again, it brought unnecessary concern to weight his shoulders down.

“I’m sorry, Stevie. How did you know? Did Bucky tell you something?” you wondered, faintly remembering his gaze having following you as you left.

“Linda Parson dropped by to tell me, actually.”

A snort escaped you and you laughed into Steve’s shoulder, fingers clutching his waist. You felt your cheeks warm up with both amusement and embarrassment when you recalled your last encounter with her.

“Was she able to look you in the eye?” you chuckled, causing Steve to retreat and watch you with puzzlement written all over his face.

“Not really-- how did you-?“

“I was kinda out of it. I’m pretty sure I told on you that you don’t usually sleep naked. And that we totally went at it before going to school today. And that your hair looks really good in the morning.”

Steve’s eyebrows gradually rose until they nearly got lost in his hairline. “Uhm… that would explain it. Also… thanks?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

One corner of his lips rose higher in appreciation and then he looked you in the eye, serious again. “How do you feel?”

You didn’t hesitate – and you didn’t have to make up things just to calm his obvious anxiety. You simply spoke the truth.

“…surprisingly good, actually. Headache’s all gone, which is… weird. Frankly, it was terrible, I can’t remember feeling anything like it before.”

Steve’s gaze travelled all over your face, tender fingers tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears before he proceeded to kiss the presumably offending spots on your face. You couldn’t but smile widely, pulling him in for a proper kiss, which he willingly surrendered to.

“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he whispered, brushing his nose with yours.

“Not your fault.”

“Well, you did sleep for a while as if you were catching up on lost hours… maybe I’m keeping you awake too much,” he remarked cheekily and you rolled your eyes at the switch of moods, tickling his side which caused him to chuckle and swiftly retreat.

“Har-har. Do you hear me complaining?”

“Nope, usually you’re just asking for more.”

You gaped at him and chuckled breathlessly, feeling your stomach flutter at the memories of you doing exactly that. “You are incorrigible, Professor Rogers.”

He only smirked and pecked your lips. “Sweetheart, you’re forgetting I know you wrote about having your cunt eaten out and getting railed against the desk in my office and thanking me for it.”

This time you sputtered, almost choking on your spit at such low blow; playful, yes, but brutal. Also – such language!

“Steve!”

“So I don’t think you should be playing this whole ‘you’re incorrigible’ game with me.”

“Jesus, Steve. You’re a menace.”

“Oh babygirl, you know it... just for you,” he assured you with a grin, his eyes now completely cleared of all worry, humour twinkling in them instead. “Anyway, I uh… I was thinking the gym, since it’s Tuesday, but-“

Right. Another thing about Tuesday. Sweaty Steve and workout. Yum and—eh. Okay.

“Of course. I’m coming with.”

You felt better – you felt completely fine, to be honest. And if it got worse by exercising, well… you could always just settle for taking it awfully easy in order to watch Steve’s biceps bulge under weights, his perfect ass growing even rounder while doing squats.

Oh yeah, you were so coming with.

“Are you sure? I mean, we can totally stay in, I don’t want you to-" he fussed again, but you just shut him up with a quick kiss.

“I’m fine, Stevie. Plus, you’re like a damn model. I need to keep up at least a bit.” You couldn’t but grimace at that a bit, drawing an offended sound from him.

“Hey!” he protested, frowning. “Thanks and all that, but what are you even talking about? Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous. My perfect, perfect pretty girl-“

You squinted at him playfully as he turned your lame attempt at a joke – that might have been a bit serious, because had you seen him – into a compliment. “Charmer. But I mean in general, you know. They say it’s healthy to do sports. Plus, we paid for that couple membership, so…”

“Ah, yes, at least once a week together to get a discount. What were we thinking?”

“That sex doesn’t count if it’s the only exercise we do,” you shot back instantly, this time making him snort in amusement.

“I love you, babygirl. And I know I keep saying it, but I love how your mind works,” he added sweetly, kissing your forehead again as if he wanted to make sure you really weren’t running a fever and thus were ready to be cleared to leave the bed by nurse Rogers.

“Love you too, Stevie. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Exercising was not such a great idea.

Obviously, Steve delivered; watching him lift weights and work out in general was a delight, your mind helpfully supplying the huffs and other noises you knew he was making occasionally, but couldn’t be heard over the music.

And you actually did enjoy going just for yourself; the endorphins worked wonders for your mood, always. Even today, in the first few minutes as you jogged and then even ran on the treadmill, you were having fun.

But then the previous headache echoed dully in your skull; barely there, considerably less intense than in the morning, but you certainly had no plan to push it. You did not want to be where you had been earlier today.

So you eased up your tempo at first, the pulses in your temples slowing down and then you resigned entirely and switched to a different machine. Less cardio, more strength training, while you did not forget to get an enticing view of your fiancé, recalling other times his face got flushed like this.

Except not even sinful thoughts could quite erase the barely-there tingle of pain.

You gave up with a sigh, wiping your hands to your leggings and approached the most handsome man in the gym.

Steve carefully set his weights down, hair sticking to his forehead in a way that should not be as attractive as it was and smiled at you curiously.

“Hey there, handsome,” you humoured him, earning a breathless chuckle.

“Hey beautiful. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Your eyebrows jumped, smile faltering.

“I’m gonna get some air, just wanted to let you know.”

“You okay?” he asked, damp eyebrows furrowing and you couldn’t resist – you smoothened the line out, for some reason actually revelling in how sticky the skin was. “Gross,” Steve mumbled in return.

“How dare you. I’m… fine. Just feeling the head again and don’t want to overdo it. Fresh air might help,” you offered with a shrug.

“Fresh air? In New York City?”

“Fresh-ish.”

Steve dropped a kiss to your forehead, people around be damned and smiled at you, the concern still undeniably present.

“Just don’t run off on me.”

“Run off? On this?” you joked and not joked at all, gesturing to his body vaguely, earning an eye-roll.  Oh but you knew he liked to have his body appreciated alright. The attractive body just happened to hide a soul that would make angels weep, giving him a reason to actually love him. As a refiner of that, you tapped his chest lightly above his heart, grinning up at him. “And from this? I wouldn’t dream of it, Stevie.”

His gaze softened, probably following you even as you made your way to the lockers.

“Don’t forget your coat!” he called out lowly, but loud enough for you and a few people around to hear. You snorted to yourself as the on-lookers probably thought he was being like an overprotective parent – and yet, you smiled at his care.

“Mother-hen…”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You were frankly grateful to have your coat – warmed up from the gym, the early March air was still rather cold against your skin. You made a mental note to thank Steve, thoroughly, for looking out you. He had also had a point; fresh air in New York wasn’t exactly an available article, but you supposed this would do.

Trying to ease the headache, you breathed in deeply, deciding against leaning against a similarly cold and dirty wall, walking slowly instead, glad that the street was one of the less frequented ones as the gym was just outside the busiest city centre.

You opted for subtly observing your fellow citizens in order to relax your mind and to resist the usual urge to pull out your phone and check what was new in the world. You played a game with yourself, one Steve asked you to play with him sometimes and which always resulted in him complimenting your unique mind which he claimed to love so much; just watching people, wondering about what their story was.

You were ninety percent sure that the guy in the beige trench coat was an accountant hating his job, but sticking with it for the sake of his loved ones; a ring told you there was definitely a significant other for him if not a whole family.

The woman your eyes fell on next, on the other hand, loved her job. Either she had a very enthusiastic colleague she was discussing a certain problem with – her eyes were shining with excitement, mouth seemingly forming very long words, likely a scientist then – or the said colleague was more than a colleague. You felt one corner of your lips rise; you knew a thing or two about blurred lines.

The next guy was--- well, hunk. Judging by his built, you would think he was heading for the gym you were hovering around, definitely reckoning him as a regular visitor. But in his leather jacket, jeans and cap, an inconspicuous clothing at first glance, there was just something about him that unsettled you.

Your heart skipped a startled beat when your eyes met. Your insides twisted uncomfortably as his irises flashed with an emotion you didn’t dare to try and read.

His shoulders seemed even wider now as his right hand reached to his lower back, probably to adjust his jeans and pull them higher to shield his loins from the cold. You didn’t blame him, his jacket wasn’t exactly long, more of a fashion statement, than a practical choice-

“GET DOWN!”

The world swayed of its place as something collided with you hard, the woman’s cry barely having reached your ears before she slammed into you. You landed on your side with a hiss of pain as you hit the ground, but the quiet sound was drowned in something much louder – something that made your blood run cold.

The bang rattled through the city noise, instantly followed by screams—and to your horror, more shots were fired before your brain even registered that someone--- someone actually fired a gun.

Multiple times.

And few of those shots rang right from above you, forcing you to close your eyes and flinch violently in fear.

“Get up!”

Your side throbbed with pain, your chest constricted as you couldn’t breathe in, the command falling on deaf ears.

An iron solid grip circled your arm and tugged you half-way up. Your eyes snapped open, catching a glimpse of blond ponytail before your vision blurred with sudden tears and another loud bang thundered through your head.

“Go, GO!”

Your feet acted on their own accord, moving swiftly, stumbling as you were forced to stagger whichever direction you were being pulled.

Heart racing as if it was meant to escape your chest, the world seemed too slow and too fast at once. You couldn’t tell how you were running away from the terrible noise, but you were – and you were still being tugged to follow your companion god knew where, hand on your bicep, fingers digging in, people getting out of your way more than willingly.

And for a good reason.

It finally connected in your brain that--- that was definitely gun in the woman’s hand. You instantly came to a halt, desperately yanking away from her grip.

“Hey!” she complained and you managed to get a look at the woman manhandling you at last, even as she kept looking back and forth as if checking whether you were being followed.

You felt your jaw go slack. She was familiar; very vaguely, but unmistakably familiar.

“Are you-“ you choked out, fear mixing with relief, because this was definitely the woman from today’s morning, the one who was with the ministry even if she wasn’t wearing glasses anymore and what the hell, did the Ministry of Foreign Affairs teach people how to shoot or-

You yelped when a black jeep pulled over by the sidewalk, causing you to instinctively jump back; and to forget for a second that there was a stranger right next to you who had just been in a gunfight probably on your side and got you as far away from the weird gunman as possible.

The backseat door flew open.

“Get in, Walker!”

Walker. Right. That was her name – the name Chuck, Carmichael, had introduced her with as his colleague. And now this.

What the hell was going on and what had it to do with you?! Why did the woman grab you of all people?!

“Come on, we’re here to help, I promise,” Walker blurted out, her sharp gaze still scanning the street, her head beckoning towards the vehicle.

For some reason, you believed her.

Because she had had an opportunity to shoot you instead of shooting after the guy who had just pulled out a gun in the middle of a peaceful street and she hadn’t.

Decision was made. She certainly was the lesser evil at the moment, even if going with her included meeting whoever was driving the jeep and he could be worse than the gunman. But there was no time to lose any more time by your useless pondering.

You climbed into the car, swiftly followed by the blond, door shutting close just as a bullet hit the wingmirror, making you nearly jump out of your skin and scream bloody murder in fright.

You were knocked backwards to the seat and to the side as the driver stomped on the gas harshly, darting from the side of the road into the traffic, horns complaining all around you as he had no regards for the regulations.

“You alright?” the deep timbre from the front seat asked, a grunt following when he took a sharp right, causing you to crash into the other woman.

Your head was spinning, the roller-coaster of madness momentarily rendering you speechless – but the question wasn’t aimed at you.

Which was good, because you were not okay in the slightest.

You were hyperventilating, your lungs burning from the improvised run, your muscles ached from the gym visit and the extra work-out which involved running from a fucking shooter. Your head was back to pounding and your heart felt like it might give out any second.

And you were definitely crying, but all that was the least of your concern, because-- what the fuck was happening?!

Who were these people? Who was the guy who--- who just decided to shoot into the crowd, nearly shooting you? Why did Walker snatch you away from the place, to supposed safety? Why not the others and--- oh god, the others.

Steve!

“We’re good. He obviously got away, but I think I took a good look on a tattoo on the side of his neck.”

The driver – tall, wide-shouldered, with dark-ish hair, that much you could see even with your vision swimming in tears ��� only grumbled in response.

Before you could say a single word (or yell), your phone vibrated in your pocket and you instantly made a grab for it, pulling it out.

“Is that a phone?!”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about this,” your blond companion blurted out in response to the irritated question from the driver’s seat.

You didn’t even get to accept Steve’s call before the device was yanked from your hand--- and a second later, a knife was sticking out of it, lead straight through the middle.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped, horrified, terrified and--- utterly shocked.

What---what- where did it even-?

“Not safe. Had it been an older model, I’d just pull the battery out, but these damn smartphones are impossible to open quickly,” Walker complained as if her words made any sense and as if she had a reason to complain.

Why would she even need to remove the battery?! How--- she just cut you off from Steve!

You stared at her, unable to form words, too many frantic thoughts bouncing off in your aching skull.

“What-“ you lamely breathed out, bewildered, freaked out and thoroughly exhausted.

“We’re the good guys, I promise. Which is why I’m sorry about this,” the blond spoke again, softer than before.

You barely had the time to process that she was reaching behind her back before a brief pain stung your neck, the world spinning faster and faster, darkness closing off your vision… and then it swallowed you whole, the last thing you felt being the backrest against your temple.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 3

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Well, that went off rails quickly. That’s Chuck to you.

I promise things will start making sense... in the meantime:

Excuse my lacking action writing skills, it’s been a while.

Thank you for reading!

[autisticcassandracain]

Braids and Cuts

Fandom/Characters: Batman Comics, Cassandra Cain & Duke Thomas

Wordcount: 1475

Summary: Cass convinces Duke to cut his hair with her, and suggests getting braids. Duke has mixed feelings. The last person who'd done his braids was his mom.

Notes: Written for @duketectivecomics’s Duke Week Day 6: Family Bonding! I tried my best to do my research to be respectful and realistic, but I’m white, so if I got anything wrong regarding natural hair, please let me know! You can read this on AO3 here!

///

The Wayne Manor bathroom closest to their bedrooms - because there was more than one, he’d never get used to this mansion no matter how long he spent in it - was still larger than Duke’s old bedroom, which made it easily large enough to drag a truly gigantic standing mirror in there, so they’d be able to see the back of their heads without the hassle of a handheld mirror. Duke laid their guards out while Cass stood in front of it.

“Who’s first?” Cass asked, angling her head so she could see both her sides.

“You, ‘cause mine’ll probably take longer.” Plus, he hadn’t entirely decided whether he’d go through with it. It’d taken quite a while for his hair to grow back this long, and even cutting half of it off was... daunting, to say the least.

When you can’t jump off rooftops, just cut your own hair, you’ll get about the same adrenaline rush.

“I want just one side shaved,” Cass reminded him while she sat back in the chair.

Duke pulled out a clipper and rolled his eyes. “I know, you’ve only said it about three hundred times, but thanks for the reminder.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, lowest guard?”

The mirror reflected Cass’s huge grin. “Yup.”

It was easier than Duke had expected it to be, but then again, Cass’s hair was straight as a board. The scissors went in almost as easy as the clippers, and before he knew it, half her head was gone and shaved.

And yeah, it actually did look pretty damn good.

Admittedly, Duke had been skeptical when Cass’d first suggested getting dual haircuts. Not just because he’d never done his own hair, but because Cass’s fashion sense was... questionable. Sure, she had strong opinion on how she should look, which was something. It was just unfortunate that none of her opinions were any good. She’d been known to combine every colour in the visible light spectrum in the same outfit, socks with crocs, and just straight up rip off pieces of her clothes if she didn’t like how it looked. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time, it really didn’t.

But she’d come prepared with a photo album of approximately a thousand different tapered cuts, saved sides, and every braid, loc, and twist combo with those you could imagine, and, well. When Duke’d first started growing out his hair again, he’d hoped it would lead to him finally learning how to be creative with it, like his mom was. In practice, he’d done absolutely nothing, except narrowly keeping it alive. Maybe it was time for a chop.

“You sure you don’t want me to do the other side?” Duke asked, fully expecting a no.

Instead, Cass paused, looking in the mirror, angling her head this way and that. Then, she grabbed the clippers from his hand, and raked it through her hair.

“Cass!”

“I’m doing a buzzcut.”

“I thought you said you wanted one side? You were pretty adamant about it!”

“Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Queer reasons.”

Duke rubbed his nose. “Sure, okay, whatever makes you happy. But can I at least finish it?”

Cass paused, cocked her head a little, then handed him the clippers.

“Thanks. And I hope you’re not expecting me to cut everything off.”

“Nope.”

“Good, because I spent way too long growing it for that.” And with that, he started shaving the rest of her head.

Around the time he was busy trying not to cut her ear off (easy, with the guard, but still), Cass said, “You should get yellow yarn braids.”

Duke threw her an incredulous look through the mirror. “You’re either wildly underestimating how long yarn braids take, or my patience.”

“You like them,” Cass insisted.

Which, yes, she wasn’t wrong, but, “How could you possibly know that?”

“You kept coming back to them. In the style collection.”

And, yeah, he had. Sure, getting yellow yarn braids was about as ironic as writing ‘I AM THE SIGNAL’ on the side of his head, but it was just such a cool look. He could save both sides of his head and keep them long, or shave only one and make them shorter, and both would be amazing.

“I’m not getting them,” he said. He shut the clipper off. “There, how do you like that?”

The only thing left on Cass’s head were tiny, prickly hairs, that she immediately went to rub her hand across. She stood up and twirled a bit in the mirrors, wearing a huge grin. “Love it.”

“Glad to hear that.” He gave her the clippers. “Go wash that, I should probably section my hair first.” She gave him a thumbs up and moved towards the sink.

They worked in silence for a little while, Duke carefully separating his hair with a comb and moisturizing it, while Cass washed and dried the clippers. The sound of running water would’ve been soothing if Duke wasn’t running high on nerves.

“Can I do it?” Cass asked.

“Cass, I love you, but I’d rather die than let you anywhere near my hair.” He gestured towards her hand. “Give me the clippers.”

And with a pout, she handed them over and hopped onto the washing machine to watch.

Well. No putting it off anymore.

He put the clippers to his head and went to work.

It wasn’t as difficult as he’d expected it to be. He slowly worked over his head, making sure to keep his eyes on the mirror, even as he could feel Cass staring at him.

“I could do the braids,” she offered, from atop the washing machine.

“What part of ‘I’d rather die than let you near my hair’ did you not get?” Duke answered, barely paying attention.

“You used to have braids.”

That made him pause his clipping. “How do you know?”

“Saw pictures at your house.”

“Ah.” He’d taken them down for a while, after he’d come out, but he’d taken a few  kid photos with him in foster care, after his parents... you know. It was comforting to hold onto these memories, and over time, it had stopped being strange or embarrassing to see himself look like a little girl. Even a bit nostalgic, in a weird way.

Which might be why he was considering bringing back the styles he’d worn before he’d come out. It made him remember the way his mom used to braid his hair. She was a fast braider, had to be, with box braids being her preferred style. She wore them for as long as she could get away with it, preferring natural looks for her own hair, but gladly braided his with as many beads and bright colours as he asked. He’d never actually been to a professional; braiding had been his and his mom’s little ritual, over the weekend, with Netflix or songs in the background. They’d only stopped when he’d come out and clipped his hair short.

“My mom used to do my braids,” he simply said, and Cass made an understanding noise.

“Don’t you want to learn?” she asked.

On the one hand, he did. He’d always wanted to learn, to be just as fast as his mom. On the other hand, he really, really didn’t. He just wanted his mom to do them for him, forever. Or at least for another few years, to make up for lost time.

Also, on a lighter note, he didn’t feel like sitting still for like, two days, while failing to do his first pair of braids, and really didn’t feel like doing it all alone.

He’d nearly reached the end of his haircut, detangling the last piece of hair to cut before going in for precision clips. It went swift, after that, and in the end, the haircut looked good. Full on the top, low on the sides and back. Mom had always had a full head of hair, but he felt like braids on this style would give it his own twist.

He’d like to show it to her. Maybe she’d even be present enough to appreciate it.

“I’ll do the yarn braids on one condition,” he announced, turning to Cass.

She peaked up. “What?”

“You stay with me the entire time while I do them, and you’re not allowed to get distracted on your phone.”

She grimaced. “You’re mean.”

“You’re the one that wants me to do the braids.”

“Only because it’d make you happy.”

“And because it’d look cool?”

“I’d prefer pink. And orange.”

“Of course you do, you lesbian. Do we have a deal?”

She wrinkled her nose, but said, “Deal.”

It took way longer than he (or Cass, who complained the whole time) would have liked, but two days later, he had yarn braids that ended mid-back, with electric yellow yarn.

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought his mom liked them.

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day 17

Prompt: Age Play w/ Shikaku

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Age Play, Boss/Worker, Mutual Pining, Shower Sex, Creampie, Vaginal Sex || Characters: Shikaku Nara, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

"(Y/N). My office. Now,” the gruff, irritated voice of your boss broke you from the paperwork you were attending to and you stood, quickly following after him.

You closed the heavy oak door behind you and smoothed your skirt out as you stood in front of his desk. Shikaku was glaring at the window, his hand stroking his facial hair. It was obvious he was fuming from something, trying to calm himself down so he wouldn’t irrationally take any anger out on you. That was just part of his personality that you adored, always so thoughtful for others and in control of his emotions. This week was rough enough for him, the anniversary of his wife’s death having been at the beginning of the week. Now, added to whatever he was upset about currently was sure to be too much for him to handle, especially alone. So, you stood there, waiting patiently and without pressure for him to speak, letting him be ready at his own pace.

“I was assigned the mission,” after five minutes of standing in silence he spoke, the words mumbled so quietly that it took you a moment to process them.

“You… that mission? Alone?! But that was supposed to be assigned to-”

“The strongest shinobi besides the Hokage. Yes. And apparently, that would be me. It’s an honor.”

“It’s a suicide mission! Surely you can’t really be expected to go alone!”

Shikaku finally turned from the window to face you, his expression as stern as always despite his initial unrest, “There’s no one else to accompany me.”

“I can go. Let me be your partner on this mission,” you were adamant in standing your ground on this, unable to accept your boss going out on such a risky mission alone.

“You’re too young.”

“And you’re too old!”

He scoffed before chuckling, catching you off guard as he heartily laughed while sinking into his office chair, “Every time I see that look in your eye and hear that fiery attitude I’m reminded of why you’re a perfect fit here,” he sighed, “I know I’m not going to change your mind on this, no matter how much I’d prefer you stay here safe and sound. But, I admire your tenacity, my little fawn. We leave in four days.”

You sighed and sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk, taking in the fact that he agreed to your offer before continuing, “Thank you, I’ll do my best to support you. We’ll come back. Together.”

“Mm, with you by my side I’d fight to the ends of the earth. But, you have been neglecting your training since being promoted to my assistant. We’re done with work for today, come to my house at dawn, I’ll personally oversee your training. It will be beneficial for us to become more...in sync before the mission as well.”

With a nod, you agreed to his conditions, not about to turn down one on one training with one of the best shinobi in the village, let alone one of the most attractive. After finishing what you were working on before being interrupted, you both packed up and left the office for the day. That night, you tried to go about your routine as normal but couldn’t help your mind from wandering. You thought about the events of the day, that brief moment where he used a pet name for you replayed a million times over, your cheeks heating up each time. Then, your mind would picture the possibilities that tomorrow morning might hold for you. Cheesy visuals filled your head of Shikaku wrapping his arms around you to show you proper form, an idea you no doubt got from cheesy romance movies. As if you need help perfecting your form. You were more than capable of holding your own in a fight and this training was simply to get you back in the swing of things.

The next morning came simultaneously too fast and not fast enough. You showed up at the Nara house, taking note that the house would be more appropriately labeled as a mansion. Dawn had yet to peak across the horizon, but Shikaku was already in the courtyard, kicking the air. Making your presence known, you set your supplies down on the porch before meeting his gaze. His face brightened when he saw you, sending a strange feeling to your chest.

“Ha! Figures you’d show up early. You’re too ambitious for your own good, kid.”

You grinned back at him as you started stretching, “Hey, you started early too, old man.”

He shook his head jovially, always amused when you dished back what he gave you. Without much more small talk, your training began and from then on you were focused on furthering your abilities. After all, the success of the mission was depending on both of you being at your absolute best for the entire duration. Shikaku knew better than to take it easy on you, instead treating you as any other opponent, and more importantly, treating you as an equal. It was a mild relief, but you were confident in your abilities to the point where you knew if he didn’t give it his all you’d lay his ass flat.

Two hours in and you were both fighting like a well-oiled machine, he went in for a hit, you blocked and parried to which he deflected. It ended up in you both barely being able to land a blow because the moves were just too predictable. Another half-hour and you agreed on a break, sitting on the engawa while catching your breath and chugging your water. You glanced over to Shikaku to find him already looking at you and suddenly you realized just how sweaty the training had made you. Alternatively, you also realized just how sweaty training had made Shikaku. The mesh shirt that was usually worn under his vest left little to your imagination, sweat glistening through the thin material. Silently, you thanked whatever gods existed and forced your attention back to a random tree in the courtyard.

“We should...clean up before work. You can use my shower,” he stood up after you agreed and led you inside, “Don’t worry about being quiet, Shikamaru’s on a mission of his own.”

You nodded and took note of the fact, still generally quiet though as he led you through the house to the bathroom. The place was even bigger from the inside and the bathroom itself looked like the size of your bedroom. Without much more thought you stripped once the door was closed and went to step in the shower. Blinking, you stared blankly at the shower knob, why the hell was each shower designed so damn differently? This shit looked like literal alien technology. You groaned and looked at your discarded clothes, there was no way in hell you were getting those leggings on while you were still so sweaty, let alone the sports bra. Grabbing a towel you wrapped it around your body and said a prayer.

“Shikaku…?” You called out tentatively, one hundred percent sure if you weren’t careful you’d get lost within the house, “Shikaku?”

“(Y/N)?” The door ahead on your left swung open and the older man appeared, currently shirtless and Kami, his hair was down.

“Uhm, I can’t figure out your shower…” admitting it out loud was mildly embarrassing and you could see the newspaper headline flash inside your head, ‘local shinobi gets stumped over fancy shower’.

Shikaku chuckled and rubbed his neck, “Forgot about that, yeah it’s a bit intimidating, isn’t it? I’ll show ya.”

You nodded and turned around, leading the way back to the bathroom, leaving Shikaku to trail behind you. Unintentionally, it was a test of will, his eyes desperately avoiding the sight of the towel barely covering the bottom of your ass. His eyes stared a hole into the back of your head trying to avoid your body. He was not going to objectify you, not now, not ever, he was better than this. Yet, he couldn’t help how his thoughts always wandered to you, though thankfully most of them weren’t dirty, or else he probably wouldn’t ever be able to look you in the eyes.

The bathroom couldn’t come fast enough and even as he leaned into the shower to turn it on you had to pry your eyes away from his backside, ignoring the way your eyes could spend ages just taking in all the scars that adorned his torso. He straightened himself out, standing tall again as the water began to spray. Well damn, he made it look so easy. You sighed and nodded in defeat, shower: 1, you: 0.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t worry about it. You gonna need help with anything else, kid? You know how the shampoo works, right?” a shit-eating grin spread across his face and you huffed before shooting him an innocent look.

“Well, now that you mention it, I’m not quite sure I know how, I think I need someone a bit older and wiser to teach me how,” you twirled your hair and batted your eyes, your voice an octave higher, really dialing up your little girl act.

The reaction was instantaneous, if ever there was a moment where you could pinpoint when a man’s willpower broke, this would be it. Shikaku unbuckled his pants and let them drop to the floor, leaving you the deer in the headlights now. The both of you played off the other too well, each pushing it just a bit farther, both refusing to be the one who backed out. That game of constant cat and mouse led you here, standing in the shower as the head of the Nara clan affectionately cleaned your hair. Not like you were complaining, though.

“Such a good little fawn, always eager to learn more. Are you taking in this lesson? Have you learned how to wash your hair, young one?”

“Yes sir, thank you for teaching me. Can you teach me how to wash my body now?” Pushing, nudging the boundary line further you rested your hands on his toned chest.

He smiled softly and grabbed the washcloth. There was no nervousness, most likely thanks to these roles you were both embracing. Instead, you felt confident. If the way you asked for him to wash you was any indication. His hands gently caressed your skin, lathering the soap over your body. Boldly, his hands lingered on your tits, brushing the rough material of the cloth over your nipples, making you arch into him. Your hands rested on his biceps, marveling in the way that they flexed just from washing you. After your torso was scrubbed the cloth wandered to your thighs, silently coaxing you to spread them.

Once you spread your legs his hand cupped your sex through the washcloth, another hand gently holding your face, keeping your eyes locked on his. Your hips instinctively rolled into his touch, a small gasp leaving you as the washcloth grazed over your clit. He grinned and finally leaned in, capturing your lips in his, thumb brushing over your cheek. Kissing back you slid your arms around his neck, keeping him there to kiss you more. His hand rubbed a bit harder before leaving altogether, washing the rest of your body while he kissed you. If his lips wouldn’t have been on yours you would have whined at the loss of contact. Luckily for him, he finished washing you soon enough, not leaving you enough time to complain.

As he hung up the washcloth, you refused to accept that was the end of your physical contact with him, “Can I practice what I learned on you, sir?”

“Well, of course. Learning by experience is always best. Go ahead, little one.”

With his affirmative answer, you reached up, scrubbing his long hair and massaging his scalp. Meanwhile, his hands wandered your sides, rubbing up and down as you tended to him. You made sure to condition his hair thoroughly, it’d be a shame to see those locks of his get dry. When it came to his body you washed it in record time, though you purposely avoided his crotch, saving it for last. Now, it was your turn to tease him, gently rubbing the washcloth over his half-hard cock. His eyes closed and he sighed deeply, trying to resist the way your hand wrapped around him through the cloth.

“Fuck me, Shikaku.”

Slowly, his eyes reopened and he looked at you, almost expecting you to be joking, or maybe he was hallucinating, but you repeated yourself, “Fuck me, Shikaku.”

He let out the breath he was holding and his hands gripped your hips, mouth leaning in to latch onto your neck this time. Carefully, he coaxed you to let him lift you, to let him show off those muscles he worked hard to earn. As if you really needed coaxing to let him do that. Your back pressed against the shower wall, legs wrapped around his waist, holding his hips close to yours. His cock nuzzled against you and he groaned, nipping at your neck. A moan left your lips and your hands went to his hair, tugging on it gently just to get him to groan again.

“I can’t wait any longer to have you, little fawn.”

“Mmm, figures, the old man doesn’t have any patience left in his old age,” you giggled softly, though, in reality, the feeling was mutual as you were more than ready to get railed by him.

“Hmph, damn kids and their smart mouths,” he mumbled into your neck but still reached down, pushing his cock into you slowly.

Your head leaned back against the wall in a silent gasp as his member spread you, deliciously sliding deeper until he hit your cervix. His arms wrapped around you like he was going to lose you, letting you get adjusted to his size before slowly thrusting. He groaned and kissed you as his hips moved at an agonizing pace to the point where you began to move yours forward just to meet him faster. Eventually, he got the hint, though he did prolong it a bit further just to tease you. Finally, he fucked his cock into you like he meant it, quick, deep strokes that hit you in all the right places. With every thrust, you could feel the prominent veins on his cock drag along your walls driving you, almost literally, up the wall.

The first time Shikaku moaned your name you nearly came right then, the sound sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your pussy. How many nights had you imagined what this would be like? Now, to have him fucking you like you were a goddess...it was overwhelming. As he continued to slam in and out of you, your nerves went wild, feeling like your whole body was on fire and the steamy bathroom didn’t help. One of his rough fingers met your clit and you knew you were done for. He rubbed quick and rough in time with his hips and you found yourself falling apart in his arms.

You cried out his name, clawing your nails down his back as your pussy spasmed and clenched around his cock. He held you tight, riding you through your orgasm, fingers still rubbing your clit as your thighs continued to shake. The son of a bitch sent you straight into a second orgasm, a scream of ecstasy tearing from your throat. Your whole body tensed and Shikaku buried himself deep inside of your pussy before he groaned and emptied his load. The feeling was heaven, his warm cum filling you full and as you came down from your high you found you couldn’t wait until tomorrow’s training session.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

[hobidreams]

TES Minis: IV {M}

to celebrate yoongi’s first big break, you give him a proper treat.

pairing: yoongi x reader genre: smut, fluff words: 2.4k contains: condomless sex, dirty talk, oral (m), they get it on in semi-public (there is a limo), yoongi gets spoiled <3 a/n: this is a drabble for The Early Shift, but can be read as a standalone. this was written as a commission for Black Lives Matter!

It’s not a big deal.

Okay, it’s a little bit of a big deal. But is it a big enough deal to warrant all this splurging? Yoongi doesn’t know, as he watches you swipe your credit card on the machine, his stomach pleasantly full of extremely expensive steak. (He doesn’t even know how much the bill actually comes to; the menu didn’t have prices, that’s how fancy this place is.) But damn, was it tasty. And watching you try not to spill anything on your only nice dress was very entertaining indeed.

“Babe, stop it,” you snap, drawing his attention to your slight pout.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re thinking again.”

“It may surprise you, but I do that sometimes.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean. Get out of that snarky,” he gives you a look, “but cute mind. All of this is worth it, Yoongi. Your song, going platinum? Of course we have to celebrate!”

“But it’s just one song and there were four other producers—”

“No. You’re not allowed to downplay yourself like that.” You reach over the table, grabbing his hand. You squeeze until he’s smiling (a little exasperatedly) right back at you. He likes the attention, even if it does make him squirm. He deserves to feel proud of how hard he worked. Speaking of, you check your watch and wince at the time. “Come on, we have to go!”

“There’s still more?” Yoongi asks, downing the bit of bubbly alcohol left in his flute before pulling on his blazer.

“Duh. Have you ever known me to half-ass anything?”

“Nope. Never.” His eyes wane as he laughs, flashing those pink gums. “Drives me nuts.”

Stepping into the elevator, he bundles you close against him as it begins to descend. He presses an easy kiss to your cheek while he links your warm fingers together, wordlessly rubbing his thumb on your skin. His tell, for when he’s feeling especially close to you. Your heart grows two sizes bigger.

You’re right on time when you reach the ground floor, dragging Yoongi along to the front of the building. You swivel your head, looking for—ah.

When Yoongi sees the sleek black limousine pull up in front of you, his jaw absolutely drops. You resolve it was worth every won to rent the thing.

“You didn’t.”

“I totally did.”

The young chauffeur steps out of the driver’s seat with a friendly smile and a bow. You return both when he opens the backseat door for you two. “Thank you,” you say, and climb in.

“Where did you even find one of these?” Yoongi is still incredulous as he follows you inside, running his fingers along the nice leather. Limos of this size are rare around town, so you get his disbelief.

You shrug like it was no biggie. “Jungkook knows a guy who knows a guy.”

“Wow. He’s well connected for a kid.” He says it without malice; Jungkook is who he went straight to when he was looking for a flower guy for your first anniversary. That bouquet had been damn magnificent.

Yoongi’s still looking at the full bottles of wine and whiskey that line the sides when the car starts to move. “Where’re we heading?” Some notes of an R&B influenced song float through the air.

“Taking the long way home, so settle in.”

Among all this luxury, Yoongi’s a sight to behold in his dark suit, legs slightly spread, arms stretched, plump lips still a bit wet and doubly enticing. It’s with a smile that you shuffle towards him, messing up your tint on his mouth as a simmering heat lights in your veins.

“Your home or mine?” He whispers when you break for a breath, amused at the baby pink that now rims the side of his lips. He’s also panting a bit more, the crotch of his nice pants starting to feel tight.

“Soon to be ours.”

Yoongi’s eyes soften as he strokes a few strands of your hair. “God, I love you.”

“Sap.” You laugh, squishing his cheek with a finger before going back to get another kiss. This one gets a little steamier than you both intended but you roll with it, tongue slipping into his mouth to meet his in an easy rhythm. Then his hand is on your chest, sliding between the fabric to cup a bare breast in his palm, to squeeze in a way that never fails to make you moan.

“Wait, fuck, shit,” he mutters when he opens his eyes to watch you react, and he remembers where the hell he is right now. He hurriedly pulls his hand away, casting a glance at the poor driver who definitely does not deserve to witness the two of you behaving like horny teenagers.

You quirk a cheeky eyebrow at him. Then to his surprise, you shove him, making him fall backwards onto the leather seats.

“What’re you—”

“Shhhh, we’re celebrating.”

You feel around near the sunroof, and grin when you find the button you’re looking for. With a quiet whirr, the partition starts to go up, blocking the driver from view.

“D-Did you drink too much champagne?” He knows all the ins and outs of your expressions, and this one is dangerous.

“Nope.”

Your smile may be lopsided, but he can tell it’s a hundred percent genuine as you stoop between his legs and run fingers across his belt. You’ve got it unbuckled in seconds, his cock out just as swiftly. Despite all his protests, it’s already half-hard, firm between your fingers.

“Babe, is this even legal?”

You dip your head and Yoongi hisses when your tongue meets his bare skin, unabashedly lapping a stripe across the frenulum. “Who knows,” you hum.

“Baaabe...” He thinks he might lose his mind, watching how you draw back to let a trail of spit drip from your bottom lip right onto his dick, smearing it all over the now-turgid head with your thumb. His girl, still so beautiful even though the only lighting comes from the blurry rows of streetlights that speed past.

You keep your hand slightly slack, sliding it along the shaft at a teasing pace so all you hear is the sensual beat of the current song and your boyfriend’s supressed moans. Occasionally you’ll use your mouth, suck the head into sudden heat to watch how Yoongi’s eyes glaze over with pleasure. But if he thinks this is all you’ve got, then he doesn’t know you at all.

“Open your hand,” you whisper, lips wet against him.

He does. Then gives a groan of disbelieving arousal when you deposit something slinky and black onto his palm. It’s still warm, and he can smell how aroused you are from here. Yoongi had watched you put on the tempting thing a few hours before dinner, but he never imagined he’d be touching them in this scenario. When did you even remove them? It’s a question that no longer matters when you lift your skirt up.

“Damn, I’ve got to write more songs,” Yoongi growls, still keeping his voice muted and low.

You laugh as you dip the hand that’d been on his dick between your thighs. It’s a bit of a challenge to keep yourself balanced on this rather narrow seat, but your determination (or stubbornness) wins out. You part your folds enough so he can hear how ready you are for him.

The sound makes Yoongi eager, already pushing up so he can feel for himself, but you shake your head. “Let me spoil you,” you purr, collecting some slick with two fingertips before slathering it onto the cock that twitches with interest.

“This is more like a punishment.” But he shuts up fast when you start to lower yourself, when he feels the first bit of your tightness accept him, squeeze him. You take it so achingly slow, swallowing an inch just to ease off and make him savor it, all with mischief in your casual expression.

Reality is, though, it’s a struggle. Oh god, you definitely wish you followed Jungkook’s leg and core workouts more strictly now, as you fight to keep from just sinking fully down in one move. At least your muscles haven’t started trembling yet, though they’re getting there as you lean forward, try to alleviate some of the strain by resting your elbows beside his head.

“Hi,” you whisper when your eyes meet, then kiss away his quiet moan as you drop another inch. The limo seems to hum beneath you as you get closer to home, the apartment that now houses two of your newly adopted plants, and a music producing station now truly on its way to becoming fully-fledged. A space that’s slowly becoming seamlessly shared. “Yoon, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“I can—” he chokes when your cunt clenches, “I can feel that.” It’s getting harder and harder for him to keep his mouth shut. You love that, when he can’t help but groan at how well you fit together.

Lower you go, letting your mouth run. “Fuck babe, you’re stretching me out, so goo—”

The pressure comes all at once. Your bodies suddenly jerk forward with the car and in your surprise, you slam down, crying out when his cock smacks against your cervix. The burn quite literally knocks the breath from you, lethal when coupled with the sharp spike of pleasure at being so full. There goes your plan of slow seduction, but neither of you are complaining.

“Sorry!” The driver calls, his voice coming through alarmingly clear through the partition. “Sudden red light!”

You look at Yoongi, and he looks at you. Silly smiles bloom across both your faces before you bury your nose into his neck. His white shirt is getting wrinkly, but who cares because you feel him shift inside you, nudge against your sweet spot and bliss pools in your stomach while you whimper.

“You should be quieter, since the divide is that thin,” Yoongi mutters, hand fondly squeezing your ass. “Even if I like hearing you scream.”

You roll your eyes. “The question is, can you?” It’s a little cramped still, but you work with what you got. Swivel your hips, grinding your clit onto him so he feels how much tighter you become. You scrunch the dress up, wanting to give him a view of how you sheathe all of him with every stroke. He groans appreciatively despite himself.

But it stops being about teasing him soon enough, once that haze of need takes over your brain and you start moving faster without even realizing it. It isn’t long before you’re practically bouncing on his cock, dragging you both closer to your ends with each sloppy squelch. “Shit, if you do that—”

“It’s all you,” you gasp, and it’s true. Yoongi always feels this good in you, no matter if it’s on your tiny single bed or in the backroom of a coffeeshop or an expensive ass luxury limo. On that delicious thought, you press two fingers to your needy clit and whine so loudly it makes Yoongi look at you in alarm. (It’s still fucking hot.)

You cum first, but that’s no surprise. It’s a point of pride for him to never leave you on the edge, and he’s happy to stave off his own orgasm for as long as it takes to get there. Sometimes even twice. But there’s no need for that now when your cunt is leaving him with no other choice than to unravel and fuck his cream as deeply inside you as possible. His hands clamp down on your thighs as his face screws up in concentration, enjoying every last pulse before he’s left with just pants and aftershocks. Just for fun, you manually give him a squeeze of your walls, just to watch him scrunch his nose in oversensitivity.

“Devil.”

You stick your tongue out at him.

It’s only when his cock softens enough to slip out of you that you gingerly shift back onto the seat, sitting with your ass slightly tilted up until he can hand you back the scraps that make up your panties. You feel humid, but it’s kind of nice with his cum still stuffed inside you.

“I think we should rent limos at least once a year,” you say, glowing with sweaty satisfaction. “That was fun.” While this night had cost you a whole paycheck, you’re graduating this year anyway, hopefully into a full-time job. You make a cheeky mental note to set 1% of your future paycheck aside for limo rides or other sex-cursions.

“Yeah, it really was.” Yoongi chuckles as he watches you smooth out your hair.

Seconds later, post-nut clarity evidently settles into his brain because his face falls. “I’m going to have to tip that poor driver everything I have, aren’t I?”

You flash all your teeth with your grin.

Groaning, he glares at his cock before tucking it back into his boxers. “Your pussy is gonna be the death of me.” But he makes you cuddle with him anyway, even though you’re both sticky and your fancy clothes definitely need some heavy dry cleaning.

Outside, you’re starting to recognize the neighbourhood and shops, your scenic route coming to an end. Yoongi sees it too, so he pulls out his wallet and starts flipping through the bills. He looks up every so often, as if doing the mental gymnastics as to figure out how much this kind of thing is worth. He looks so earnest that it makes you feel a little bad for him.

“Yoongi,” you say, after he pulls out way too much money. “Remember when I said Jungkook knows a guy?”

“Yeah...?”

You shut his wallet for him. “The driver does this kind of thing often. So, don’t need to worry about it. He’s used to it.”

Yoongi stares at you blankly. Then his eyes narrow, bottom lip jutting out in a pout that is not supposed to be adorable but totally is. “I was panicking this entire time! I was so worried that—I thought—You just—! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You cackle, planting yourself squarely in his lap before leaning your head on his shoulder. He’s so warm and solid against you, effortlessly comfortable. “Love you,” you say with a smile, “super proud of you.”

Yoongi’s still grumbling when he presses his face into your hair. You don’t hear exactly what he says but you’re pretty sure it’s something like “you’re the worst.” Or maybe (probably) it’s “you’re insufferable.” Either way, it means you’re the most precious person on this earth.

a/n: i can’t tell you how much i love writing soft Yoongi! i hope you love him too 💕 bonus: how did Yoongi ask you to move in? ♡

[tuanhood]

hypnotic | part one

paring: vampire!im jaebeom x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut (part two), vampire au

warnings: language, cringey vampire cliches i’m sure

word count: 9,800+

summary: jaebeom has been waiting 200 years to find his mate - the one who can break his trance and isn’t affected by his hypnotic abilities. You don’t seem to be that person, but he just can’t seem to get you out of his mind… why? 

a/n: hello guys! so i originally had this planned to post tomorrow (the 30th) but it was so long i decided to split it up and post one part today and the other part on the 31st! This first part is mostly Jaebeom and not a lot of Y/N but SO BE IT. This is also my first time writing in the genre of vampire/fantasy loL so please forgive me because it’ll probably be cringe and not make sense. if that’s the case lol drop me a message!! also vampire jaebeom was requested FOREVER ago. so here it is practically 3 decades later. and i attempted to make a banner. if someone can make me a better one it’s v much WELCOME.

part two

Knock Knock Knock 

He wished he could just pretend like he was asleep. He wished he could use that as an excuse to not answer the door, but based on the very strong feeling he was getting from who was behind it – that wouldn’t work. 

“I know you’re in there! Just answer the damn door Jaebeom!”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, leave it to Bambam to be at his front door before the day even had a chance to truly begin. Before letting him in, he went through all the possible things or excuses he could use to get out of whatever his younger friend had in mind.

“Is your vintage YSL here or is it still at the dry cleaners?” Bambam asked, pushing past Jaebeom as soon as he has the door partway open.

Gruffly, Jaebeom turned back into his apartment to Bambam already halfway to his bedroom – no doubt to look through his closet, “What are you doing here Bam?” 

“What does it look like? I’m here for the vintage YSL asshole!” 

He’s learned by now that it’s better to let him do his thing – whatever that may mean. So instead of following Bambam, he plopped down onto the same couch he’s had for nearly 15 years. “You know when I first bought that shirt it wasn’t considered vintage!”

Jaebeom waited for a response, but instead, he was met with silence. After a few moments – many of them thinking about how maybe it was time to replace the couch – he felt his “vintage” YSL button-down hit him in the face. 

He groaned; the impact was surely going to create wrinkles in the material he tried to keep in pristine condition. It was ironic since he was often heard making fun of how much Bambam cared about clothes, but Jaebeom liked to keep his things nice. “Bam I just got it back from getting cleaned a couple of days ago.”

“Put it on.” 

The tone of his friend’s voice seemed rather impatient. If he had closed his eyes, Jaebeom would have thought he was talking to Jinyoung or even himself. 

“Why do I need to put it on? It’s 8 in the morning; where are we going?”

“Um excuse me? Did you forget what day it was? Now come on, we’re meeting Jinyoung at that new café down the street in fifteen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to picture the café on the mental map he keeps in his mind, “the one that used to be a video store in the 90s?”

Bambam made his way into the living room, picking up a few glasses that rested on the coffee table Jaebeom’s feet were on top of, and marched over to the small kitchen. Jaebeom has lived in this apartment more years than he’d like to admit, especially because enough time had passed that the neighbors he had were clearly aging and he just stayed 26. The thought of moving somewhere new often enters his mind, but with this place, he just can’t bring it in himself to go quite yet. It’s almost as though something is tying him to this city, this place – like he’s waiting for something.

“Yes, and a speakeasy in the 20s both of which are not important right now because we live in the 21st century Jaebeom. Now come on, Jinyoung’s waiting – that asshole is always early.” 

He heard Bambam mumble something along the lines of known him 100 years, would it kill him to just be on time for once, as he furiously dropped the glasses on the kitchen counter.

“Do I have to go?” 

Bambam paused his motions of putting Jaebeom’s dirty dishes into the sink to stare the older vampire down, “Jaebeom you only turn 200 once.” 

He scoffed in response, “Jesus don’t remind me.”

“We have to make a whole day of it! So please just put the shirt on, because I want you looking presentable,” he stopped in the middle of his sentence, suddenly wiggling his eyebrows, “you never know what could happen.” The final word is drawn out, almost sing-song like and it drives Jaebeom up the wall because he knows exactly what Bambam is referencing.

For Jaebeom and those like Jaebeom, they didn’t consider the day they were born as their birthday, but instead as the day they turned. There was no point in celebrating their birth anymore as they were no longer alive. However, at this point after 200 birthdays, – alive and dead combined - Jaebeom was beginning to believe that there was no point to those either. He always knew being immortal was a curse but day by day that idea was only solidifying itself in his mind.  

Jaebeom let out a gruff breath which only made Bambam look up from the fork he was scrubbing, “Bam I don’t know what you think is going to happen today… but it certainly isn’t that.” 

The “that” he was referencing was one of the main factors that as of late had made him feel like living forever was indeed a waste. It was the thing that was supposed to make him feel “complete.” According to old texts and traditional vampire folklore, he was now walking around half full, but once he met his mate, he would become whole. At first, he didn’t believe the tale. He had gotten by so far without a mate that the idea of him not being complete made him laugh. But watching both Bambam and Jinyoung find their mates – Bambam 70 years ago and Jinyoung 16 years ago – made him finally acknowledge and reflect on the piece of himself he was missing. 

And fuck he was lonely. 

Bambam chuckled at him as if being in on his own personal joke. His friend was strange like that sometimes, “just put the shirt on Jaebeom.” 

By the time he’s had the shirt on and Bambam has somehow convinced him to let him wear his Rolex he got as a gift from his friend Jackson in 1920, Jaebeom feels mentally prepared to leave the house and embark on this dreadful day. The reminder that he has now been around for 200 years and still is not whole.

“Finally,” Jinyoung sighed when Jaebeom and Bambam finally reached the café down the street, “I’ve been waiting 20 minutes.” 

A disgruntled Bambam checks his watch, “well if you don’t want to wait every single time, don’t be so fucking early,” he promptly turned to Jaebeom to share his grief regarding their friend, “you think he would learn after all this time.” 

“Let’s just go order,” Jaebeom shrugged, not caring to be in another disagreement between his longer than life friends.

“Be honest you’re early on purpose just so it gives you something to complain about and a reason to make us feel bad!” 

Jinyoung ignored Bambam’s theory, replying to the oldest, “no need. I already ordered for the three of us. It’s a special day, the birthday boy doesn’t need to pay,” he glanced at Bambam, “you on the other hand…” 

The two new arrivals, flop down into the sofa chairs on either side of Jinyoung, along of them situated to make a half-circle in front of a low coffee table. The three of them had somehow stuck into this… pattern. Years of friendship that contained years of Bambam/Jinyoung squabbles that Jaebeom would often have to mediate. Patterns were nice, but sometimes they would get old – especially after so long. 

As the two of them argue over whether or not Bambam should pay Jinyoung back for a simple iced Americano because Bam swears he got the drinks the last two times, Jaebeom looks over to the counter where the baristas work on – no doubt – the plethora of orders they have. The factor of the café being new has certainly been the cause of the popularity and amount of people in the shop. He can’t help but feel bad for the individuals working on the drinks – three years ago he had been one of them for roughly 18 months and knew that it wasn’t as easy as it appeared to be. 

In retrospect, Jaebeom didn’t have to work. He had so much time to learn and understand what it meant to be financially responsible. Not only that, but he’s literally had hundreds of years to save. Plus, his early investments in companies ended up landing him some pretty substantial and valuable shares. Jaebeom was sitting on quite the pretty penny. 

“Wow your portfolio is remarkable… I’ve never seen one like it,” his latest financial advisor had said to him in complete awe, “I mean an early investor in Amazon? Apple? Mastercard?” 

Jaebeom had laughed nervously, “What can I say? My grandpa had good intuition, I guess.” 

Money aside, he had wanted something to do with his time – hence his barista job. It was fun, but like most things, Jaebeom just grew tired of it and as he watched the girl working the espresso machine let out an exhausted breath, he realized that he wasn’t missing it. 

Jaebeom has become good at studying people. It was something he still wasn’t sure of whether it was a vampire thing or just something he had picked up over time. Watching the girl at the machine, her hair is in a low bun, a few strands falling in front of her face. It’s clear with the way the hair tie is situated, that the hairstyle was once a bit neater, tighter, and sat at the middle or even top of her head. However, the now fallen placement and slight disarray signal how busy she’s been working and how fried she must be feeling. 

He looks to the string bracelet on her wrist, visible from far away enough for Jaebeom to conclude that she must have someone in her life deemed important to wear one of those “friendship” bracelets. He never saw the point, but humans were strange creatures, despite him once being one. 

Jaebeom’s breath hitches when he catches sight of the delicately drawn tattoo on her wrist near the bracelet. It’s of lavender and it immediately reminds him of his mother who had loved exploring the lavender field that had been near his home when he was a child. Despite all the time that has passed since he lost his mother, the pain that aches inside of Jaebeom when he thinks of her isn’t any less. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the call at the coffee bar, “Order for Jinyoung.” 

The call comes from the overworked girl he had been studying and Jaebeom wants more than anything to stand up and retrieve their orders. He finds a weird want to hear what her laugh sounds like. Maybe he could say something or strike up a conversation that would-

“What are you doing?” It takes Jaebeom a moment to notice that he has partially stood up from his chair as if he’s about to go somewhere. Cluelessly, he replied, “going to get the drinks.”

The youngest shook his head, “No way! Birthday boys don’t get their drinks, they don’t lift a finger.” 

He knew Bambam was one to take birthdays seriously, but this was beginning to feel like it was going the extra mile too many. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Jaebeom watched Bambam get up to retrieve the drinks. He expects him to just grab the drinks and return to the table, but instead, Bambam says something to the girl. Arching his neck to the side, he tries to make a clear path to eavesdrop on what’s being said, hearing being one of the benefits of turning. Unfortunately, the café is too loud for him to focus on the conversation and he’s defeated by the fact that he’ll have to stay in the dark.

The girl laughs loudly at something Bambam said and Jaebeom can’t help but feel mixed about it. On one hand, he got his wish – hearing her laugh – but on the other hand, he wasn’t the cause of it. For some reason it makes him bring his clench and unclench his fists which rest on the arms of the sofa chair. Jinyoung takes notice.

Jaebeom quickly looks down at his lap when he senses that Bambam is returning to where they’re sat, not wanting to give away that he had been staring. First, he places Jinyoung’s and his drink on the table, soon turning back around to go back and fetch the last drink – Jaebeom’s. 

When he comes back, Jaebeom looks up to see a large grin spread across the youngest’s face. He has that look again – the one as if he knows a joke Jaebeom doesn’t. 

The latter nodded his head in thanks for getting the drinks as he inspects his green tea on the table. Just as he’s about to pick up the mug, he’s stopped in his tracks by an announcement coming from the coffee bar. 

“Hello everyone! Sorry for the interruption, but I’ve been told that we have a birthday here today,” you said. Giving announcements wasn’t your strong suit, but you figured now that you were an actual owner of something, you were going to get over your shyness. But you didn’t think it was going to be that often that a tall, skinny and pale boy with a Rolex on his wrist would be asking you to get your coffee shop to sing happy birthday for his friend. Even when you were a barista working for someone else no one had made such a request. This was a café after all, not an Applebee’s.

Jaebeom wished more than anything that he could sink into his seat and just disappear. If only that cliché that vampires turned into bats were true, then he could just fly away at a moment’s notice. Leave it to Bambam to torture him like this. It wasn’t intentional of course, but it certainly felt like it to Jaebeom. 

It was especially tragic to him because the girl he had been studying was the one leading the entire café in singing “Happy Birthday.” He did his best to avoid looking at her, feeling like his entire body was heating up in embarrassment even though he couldn't heat up. 

You on the other hand felt a little insulted by the birthday boy’s lack of eye contact. You hadn’t even managed to get a good look at him before you started singing and now it was not possible with the way that he was looking down at the ground, his long hair falling in front of his face, concealing itself to you. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that he felt awkward about a bunch of strangers he had never met singing him happy birthday, you had felt the same whenever your friends tried to ambush you on your birthday… but you at least looked up and acknowledged the presence of the people singing. A tight smile from this guy would even be happily accepted. 

When the song is over and the claps that follow finally subside, he looks up to see the café back at its previous state of normalcy, not a single person looking at him anymore. Jaebeom lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You could at least act like you liked it,” Bambam huffed in annoyance. He wished Jaebeom could appreciate the idea of birthdays like he did. 

“I really didn’t need to be the center of attention today Bam.” 

“But it’s your bir-” Bambam begins to explain, but Jaebeom abruptly cuts him off, not wanting to hear his reasoning for today’s antics, yet again. The day hadn’t even started.

“My birthday, I know. Thanks for reminding me.” 

Jinyoung clears his throat and plays with the spoon that came with his Flat White. Just as Jaebeom is the mediator for Bambam and Jinyoung, sometimes Jinyoung has to be the mediator for Jaebeom and Bambam. Essentially the commonality in the disagreements of their trio friendship is Bambam and currently, Jinyoung feels as though he should route the conversation elsewhere.

“What else is in the cards for tonight then boys?” 

It’s then based on the look on Jaebeom’s face, that Jinyoung thinks that maybe talking about the plans for tonight – on Jaebeom’s birthday – isn’t re-routing the conversation. Especially since it’s Bambam’s whose eyes light up and is the one to reply to him.

“Obviously we’re going out tonight,” Bambam paused and turned to Jaebeom, wagging his finger in the latter’s face, “there’s no way you’re getting out of this. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and didn’t respond as he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had rejected Bambam’s invitations to go out consistently for the last 6 months and on his birthday of all days, Bam was going to force him out of the house just as he had done this morning to come to the café.

He looks back to the front counter, his eyes searching for the barista who has now suddenly disappeared. A frown begins to make itself known on his face, feeling a bit disappointed by the fact that she may have left already or gone elsewhere, but soon she’s popping up from behind the counter, no doubt getting something from the cabinets below. Jaebeom feels relief. 

“What did you say to her?” he asked suddenly looking back at Bambam.

He cocked his head to the side, confused, “What did I say to who?” 

“The barista behind the counter.” 

His friend nodded his head slowly, suddenly realizing what Jaebeom means. A smirk appears on his face, “nothing much… Just how it was your birthday and it would be really good if we could all embarrass you by singing about it. She’s not a barista, by the way, she owns the place. Kinda backward thinking there Jae. It’s the 21st century, women can own things now, they can vote.” 

“I know that,” Jaebeom hissed. 

Bambam puts up his hands in defeat, “I’m just making sure.” 

“Don’t you know her?” Jinyoung asked, “isn’t that why we came here?” 

Jaebeom’s interests are perked. It’s not often that the three of them meet new people. It’s not like there’s a huge point to it. The last new person the three of them met was Mark – also a vampire – a bartender at their favorite club in the city, but that was in 2007. 

He waits for Bambam’s explanation as to how he knows this girl and why they came here specifically beside it just being near Jaebeom’s apartment. 

Waving his hand nonchalantly, the Thai boy gives his answer, “I don’t really know her. Minji does. Met her in some kind of class, I think. SoulCycle? Pilates? Zumba? I don’t know. I can’t keep up with her and her activities these days.” 

Minji is Bambam’s mate. He had turned her only a month after they met. 

Jaebeom’s not sure what he would do if he met his mate. He doesn’t know if he would want to subject them to turning and living the same kind of life as him, but he also doesn’t know if he could continue life alone after meeting his mate. If he ever meets them.

“Why the curiosity?” Jinyoung asked, for once finding it hard to remain stone-faced. Even his usual chill, non-revealing demeanor seems to fade away when it appears that his older friend might be attracted to someone. 

Jaebeom simply shrugged, “it’s nothing…” 

“What do you think? Could she be the one?” Bambam asked teasingly, pointing to the girl behind the counter. 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes almost immediately at the younger boy, “if you’re going to keep bothering him about it, don’t make it so obvious idiot.” 

Jaebeom had been alive – or more like undead – for 200 years and more than half of that time he had to listen to this same conversation from his friends over and over again. His patience was wearing thin and 180 years later, he was tired of their pestering. 

He leaned forward slowly and grabbed his green tea off the table, making sure to visibly flinch at the heat of the drink, Bambam, and Jinyoung chuckling at his reaction. Out of the three of them, Jaebeom certainly had the most practice when it came to “putting on a show” for the humans and “acting” the most human. Taking a sip, he looked back at the girl behind the counter. 

The youngest vampire had spent many of their outings and conversations hypothesizing who Jaebeom’s mate could be. Despite being the oldest of the three, Jaebeom was the only one left who still hadn’t found his mate and he was beginning to feel hopeless. Typically, Bambam pointed out any human girl as a candidate – all of them of course ended up not being his mate. Therefore, Jaebeom didn’t pay attention to his picks anymore, but he had to admit… He did get a strange feeling from the girl behind the counter. 

Jaebeom looked to you, hoping to catch your gaze as you quickly made the coffee orders for the few people waiting to the side of the cash register. Just when he was about to give up and focus his attention back on his friends, you tore your concentration away from the drink in your hand and looked up at him from across the cafe. 

Jaebeom focused his gaze deep onto you with his eyes – testing, checking, and trialing your focus. You didn’t look away, instead, you trained your eyes deeply into his and stared at him until finally, it was Jaebeom who broke the contact. 

He shook his head at his friends, disappointed by your inability to break the trance and ultimately confused at the feeling he still got from you despite that. 

Jaebeom took another sip of the tea, “it’s not her.” 

“Did you have to debate that Uber driver on the Twilight franchise?” Jinyoung groaned at Bambam as soon as they’re out of the car. 

The entire twenty-minute ride, he had got into a heated discussion with their driver on how Twilight was not “true” or realistic to most actual vampire folklore. It had been an excruciating thing to listen to. 

“Got to stand up for our kind dude.” 

“Okay, but what happens when she starts asking how you know all these things or why you’re so interested in vampire stuff?” Jinyoung tended to always be right. This wasn’t an exception.

Brushing off his pants, Bambam gives him a nonchalant wave, “chill out man. Everyone loves vampire stuff.” 

“Maybe in 2008,” Jaebeom said just barely loud enough for his friends to hear them. The two of them laughed, Bambam shoving him playfully on the shoulder, “Birthday boy getting funny on us.” 

“I was always funny,” Jaebeom deadpanned. 

“Funny and looking good tonight. Let’s get you laid, shall we?” 

After a day that was jampacked full of various activities planned by his youngest friend, the last thing Jaebeom wanted to do was spend extra energy on trying to get some girl to come home with him tonight. Besides, he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Jinyoung scoffed, “he doesn’t need to get laid tonight.”

“Yes, he does! Jaebeom how long has it been?” 

This time it’s Jinyoung that shoves Bambam’s shoulder – except it’s not all that playful. 

“Fine don’t answer that, but I’m just saying there will be quite a few girls here that you can have your pick of, despite your plain outfit.” 

Jaebeom looked at the clothes he had changed into when Bambam spared him a sliver of time to go back home to digress and feed his cats. The latter had wanted him to borrow clothes of his, but instead, Jaebeom decided on pulling pieces from his closet that felt more like him, less like Bambam. A plain pair of ripped jeans, an oversized black shirt that he had bought at a shop from his trip to London last year, and his mother’s necklace that often wasn’t missing from its spot around his neck.

Bambam’s earlier critique was that he was dressed too basic and that no girls would bat an eye at him. Girls don’t like plain guys, he had said. The comment makes Jaebeom wonder about you and whether you’d fall under the category of not liking “plain” guys. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. It was probably the eighth time he had made himself do it today. Jaebeom had found his mind often drifting to you throughout the day for some unexplainable reason. During their walk in the park, he wondered if you would take strolls during your breaks from the café or when Bambam forced him to go paint pottery for an hour and a half he thought about what you would paint. It frustrated him because he hadn’t even spoken to you – not a word and yet you were clearly on his mind for one reason or another. It wasn’t even like you were his mate. He had tried to see if you were unaffected by his trance, his hypnotic capabilities, but you had just stared at him completely fixated just as everyone else was. 

Jaebeom was not going to think about you any longer. He was already planning on avoiding your café. 

“We’re on the list,” Bambam tells the bouncer when they arrive at the entrance of the club. He scans the list and motions his head towards the direction of the door to signal to the three of them to go on ahead. There’s a bit of a whine coming from the people waiting in line which admittedly so makes Jaebeom feel a little guilty, but Bambam ensures him it’s fine, “why have a friend who works at a club if we can’t use him for the perks?” 

“Why does he keep bartending again?” As soon as the question is out of Jaebeom’s mouth he realizes it was a stupid thing to ask since the answer is apparent. 

Bambam laughed at him, giving his long – irreplaceable he’d like to remind everyone – leather coat to the person at the front of the club. Jaebeom swears he hears him tell the coat check guy the “proper” way to put it on a hanger. 

“Obviously for the girls Jaebeom.” 

Mark’s mate – Hana had passed on a long time ago. Jaebeom had never got the chance to meet her, only hears about her in passing from some stories that Mark has told the three of them. He hadn’t turned her. Jaebeom’s never asked why. 

“Girls… of course.” 

He can’t help but think about how Mark must feel inside. Although Jaebeom doesn’t know him as well as he knows Bambam and Jinyoung, whenever he’s with the older boy he’s always got a smile on his face. Often quiet, but he’s always got certain energy bouncing off of him that would indeed make him popular with women. However, if what they say about mates is true, would that mean that a piece of Mark was now missing? Did he feel like he was less of a person? Jaebeom felt like that sometimes and he hadn’t even met his mate yet. Mark had his, but now he didn’t. 

“Drinks?” Jinyoung asked the two of them and Jaebeom is partly surprised. Out of the three of them, Bambam was the one who was the most comfortable in a club or even bar setting. He figures that Jinyoung must be using his birthday as an excuse to cut loose and become someone else for the night.

Bambam instantly nodded his head at Jinyoung’s suggestion and Jaebeom finds himself trailing behind the two of them as they make their way over to Mark at the bar who is throwing his head back at something the girl across the bar is saying. Judging on Jaebeom’s intuition – it’s a bit fake and overplayed, but you got to do what you got to do.

“My man!” Bambam yelled over the music, leaning against the counter in a way to make sure he doesn’t get the elbows of his long sleeve turtleneck wet. Mark in response, turned to them and smiled, then routing his attention back to the girl, giving her an apologetic smile. Her half-smile says everything Jaebeom could need to know – this girl would not be going home with Mark after his shift tonight. 

“What can I get you guys tonight,” Mark turned to Jaebeom and the latter can barely make out his sharp canines in the dark club, “birthday boy you want anything special?” 

Before Jaebeom can reply that he wants to be at home, Bambam answers for him.

“Could we maybe get something that’s off the menu?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Mark who gave him a shit-eating grin, knowing immediately what he was talking about. 

“Off the menu” meant Mark’s secret stash of O negative underneath the counter. While alcohol had the same effect on them that it had on the average humans, adding a bit of blood just made a little bit better. Okay… it made it a lot better. 

“Three negronis coming right up,” Mark winked to give a little signal that these would most likely not be as well composed or put together as a negroni, but due to them being in public, he couldn’t necessarily announce a shit ton of alcohol mixed with human blood was going to be served up to them. 

“How has your birthday been Jae?” Mark asked as he was in the middle of placing three glasses onto the countertop in between them.

It was difficult to explain since to Jaebeom it had just been another day except for a little bit more excruciating. The celebration of another year “older” filled him with thoughts of how much time has passed, whether he’s done anything truly important and why he still hasn’t found the person who is meant to complete him… but like he said only a little more excruciating than any other day. 

Jaebeom shrugged in response, “Bam planned a lot and for the most part, it was…” he paused for a moment, wondering if he should say how he felt – numb, lost, and wishing the day would come to an end as if tomorrow won’t bring the same thoughts or problems. But as he looked at his friends who had tried so hard today to make him happy and celebrate, he decided to guard them against the ultimate truth, “for the most part it was fun – really good. I mean besides the singing at the café of course.” He throws in the last part to at least have some kind of believability to his story. 

He notices Mark’s eyebrows lift out of curiosity as his concentration focuses on measuring out each part of the drinks, “An entire café sang you happy birthday? Damn, I don’t think I could ever get through that, so I can only imagine how you feel.” 

“That was Bam’s idea,” Jinyoung muttered. 

Once again, Bambam does his nonchalant waving of the hand, “it wasn’t that bad. I mean okay, maybe it was… But Jaebeom was obsessed with the girl who led it.” 

Jaebeom suddenly feels like he wants to put duct tape over his friend’s mouth. 

“I was not obsessed with her! I don’t even know her!” Jaebeom for some reason felt the need to defend himself, which was probably the worst option. Him getting defensive was usually a tell-tale sign for his friends being right on whatever they were confronting him with. 

Bambam scoffed, bringing gliding his drink across the bar to be directly in front of him once Mark has poured it neatly into the short glass, “I noticed you staring at her before I went to get the drinks. That’s why I asked her to do it in the first place.” 

“So, she doesn’t know Minji?” Jinyoung questioned. 

The youngest takes his first sip and immediately lets out a hissing noise, signaling to Mark that it’s both strong and good. “No, she does, but Jaebeom’s weird staring only made it that much better.” 

Mark pushed the other two glasses towards Jinyoung and Jaebeom, “Was she your…” he drifted off, almost as though he was finding it physically difficult to get the word out. Jaebeom can’t help but feel the want to reach his hand out towards Mark and place it comfortingly on his shoulder, but his group of friends don’t do that. Instead, he saves him the trouble by answering back right away, not forcing him to say it.

“No, she wasn’t.” 

The bartender nodded slowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze from the three familiar boys across the bar from him, “That’s uh… too bad that she wasn’t able to break the trance. Sorry, Jaebeom.” 

He knows that Mark is just trying to be nice, especially when they’re on a subject that he clearly can’t and doesn’t want to talk about, but the attempt to be comforting makes Jaebeom nauseous. 

“Well maybe he’ll find her here tonight,” Jinyoung quipped, placing a hand on Jaebeom’s back. Sometimes the latter swore that his friends treated him he had just found out he had a terminal illness. 

“I sincerely doubt it,” Jaebeom commented gruffly. 

There’s a sound from the other side of the bar from a customer who seems fed up with the conversation being had between the four of them – distracting Mark from serving anyone else. He gives a signal to them to notify them that he’ll be there in a second. “Well… come to me if you guys need more drinks.  It’s on me tonight.” 

“Thanks, man,” Jaebeom tells him honestly because he might need a couple more drinks before he gets to the state of wanting to be in this room.

Mark said a final word of “see you guys later” and heads to the other end of the bar to help customers who have been waiting. Grabbing their drinks, Jaebeom, Jinyoung, and Bambam turn around to depart the bar, to find somewhere to sit for a bit before the drinks truly begin to hit them.  

With his drink in hand, Jaebeom took a sip and reveled in the perfect balance of alcohol to burn his throat and blood to soothe it. The drink was probably the most relaxing part of his day thus far and as he looked out at the crowd, he could already tell that maybe the mixture was going to his head due to his sudden thinking that this place wasn’t all that bad.

Despite not being a club guy, if he were to go out, Jaebeom would always choose this club that Mark works out. To put it simply – it was vampire friendly. With Mark behind the counter and his “secret” supply free-flowing, it became a notoriously known place for vampires in town. If he had to guess, the attendance on an average night was probably evenly split 50/50, humans and vampires.

The humans weren’t aware of the vampires of course – for the most part.

Jaebeom cleared his throat once they’ve found a booth to sit in, “so… Bam what do you know about that girl?” 

Both Jinyoung and Bambam exchange glances before looking back at the birthday boy. The latter tried his best to conceal the smile on his face, “not much… just that she owns the café, knows Minji, and is very single.” 

For some reason, Jaebeom’s stomach does a little flip, but he wishes it wouldn’t. “S-So?” Through his stutter, he tries to remain as confident as possible, but his friends see right through his façade.

Jinyoung leaned forward until his elbows rest on the top of his thighs, “Jaebeom you can be honest with us… Why the sudden fascination with this girl? Are you sure she didn’t break the trance? Just with the way that you’re acting…” Jinyoung drifted off, not bothering to finish his final sentence, but once again looking at Bambam. It makes Jaebeom lean forward in his seat as well. 

“With the way, I’m acting? I’m completely normal. I’m fine. She didn’t break the trance and now I’m just curious about her as curious as anyone would be about someone they meet.” 

There’s the silence between the three of them until Bambam speaks up, “You didn’t meet her though.” 

It dawns on Jaebeom that he didn’t even speak to you and he wonders why does it feel like he did. Why did it feel like he knew you but didn’t at the same time? Why haven’t his mind and body been cooperating with him since this morning at the café? 

Just with the way that you’re acting…

The way he was acting? What did that mean? Was the way he was acting mean something specific? 

He feels like he blinks and thirty minutes go by. And in that past thirty minutes, Jaebeom had somehow managed to drink 6 of Mark’s “negronis.” He felt like his head was beginning to get dizzy. It wasn’t often that Jaebeom found himself drunk on the verge of drunkenness due to alcohol not affecting him as much as humans. To even remotely get to that state, he had to drink a lot and it had to be strong. 

“You feeling it Jaebeom?” Through the darkness and the haze of the alcohol, Jaebeom could barely make out the hint of the smile playing on Jinyoung’s face. He had switched to a glass of wine at some point while Jaebeom was binge drinking which had to be the most Jinyoung thing ever. Who drinks a glass of wine in a dark, sweaty club? 

He’s afraid to answer him verbally which would give his friend an obvious sign of how he was feeling. So instead he just shrugged – as usual. 

“Dude let’s get out there!” The youngest shouted, motioning his hands to the middle of the club, “dance… maybe find you a girl?” 

Jaebeom watched the people pressing up against each other on the dancefloor, moving their bodies, and drinking like their lives depended on it. He wondered if he wanted to be a part of that. Everyone out there was so full of life and vigor… he just wasn’t. He also didn’t know if he was that drunk, but bless Bambam because he didn’t need alcohol to be out there. 

For what feels like the millionth time, his mind drifted to you. Was this your kind of place? Would you come here? If you did would you come alone? With friends? Someone else? You didn’t seem like the type of person who would like this place. You seemed more like him – the observant, calm, inquisitive type who would much rather be at home with a book than at a party. 

Then for a moment, he can picture it. It’s almost like he’s in a trance – an image of you curled up on a couch – his couch – under a large white cable knit blanket fills his mind. Rather than reading, your painting with watercolors – the kind that seems to be in every elementary school classroom – and he hears a voice out of view. His voice.

“Painting really?”  

Jaebeom sees you glance up from your painting to look at him, smiling.

“Looks like I’m gonna have a lot of time on my hands so… might as well get good at something.” 

Jaebeom hears himself laugh, “Okay but watercolors?” 

He feels like he’s going to pass out when he finally hears it – your laugh. 

“Let the artist work Im Jaebeom! She needs to get good enough to live off auction house money once her paintings get sold! Shh!” Despite your words, you smiled and suddenly moved the tools away from you onto the coffee table. You lifted half the blanket off of you and patted the space of the couch beside you, “you know I can’t say no when you give me that face. Come here.”

And just like that, the vision is gone. Jaebeom feels confused because it didn’t feel like a dream or fantasy, but it felt real… it felt like a memory. 

“Hello, Earth to Jaebeom?” 

Right… dancing. Maybe dancing would help him forget whatever game his mind was playing on him.

“Yeah let’s fucking go.” 

Another instance occurs where Jaebeom blinks and everything moves so fast. Suddenly he’s no longer sat at the table with Bambam and Jinyoung, but instead in the middle of that mess on the dancefloor with everyone else. He almost feels like one of them. He almost feels human again. But as soon as that feeling washes over him, it quickly dissipates. 

He knows it must be the drinks doing all the work, because otherwise, he would have never found himself in the middle of all these people, thinking that dancing is a good idea. Dancing had never done anything remotely good for him before, so why now? To help forget? Was it going to help him do that? 

“I swear it’s like he’s not even here.” 

Jaebeom tuned back into the moment, and it’s when he realizes that Jinyoung and Bambam have been trying to get his attention this entire time.

“Sorry I was just- the alcohol you know…” He says it so quietly that he knows his friends won’t be able to hear him over the music and the millions of conversations happening around them. But he thinks that maybe it’s better that way and that it truly doesn’t matter what he says.

Jinyoung comes closer to Jaebeom, until his mouth is right next to his ear, “we were just asking if there’s anyone that you’re interested in.” 

They’re still on this idea? Jaebeom asked himself. 

Even in his drunken state, he didn’t think that finding some random girl to fuck was going to help with the emptiness he’s been feeling lately, but for the first time since getting up and onto the dance floor he takes in the people around him. As depressing as it was to observe, most people were here with someone else. 

It’s then his gaze falls onto a couple that stands far on the left side of the floor, behind where Jinyoung is standing. The two of them have their fronts pressed up against each other, dancing so closely with arms exploring one another’s bodies. The female has her head resting on the male’s shoulder as if she’s too exhausted to keep going, but can’t dare to part with him. It’s like they’re part of each other and any distance would cause them to lose all sense of themselves.

The girl lifts her head off the male’s shoulder and gives him this look that makes Jaebeom’s heart – if it was still beating – ache. She says something to him and he nodded happily in response. Even through the dim lights and large crowd, Jaebeom could see the sharp teeth inside her mouth.

She placed her head back against his shoulder, this time, however, the male had his head angled back, stretching out his neck. The girl moves in closer until her mouth just ghosts over the skin, breathing on it until the boy shuts his eyes awaiting the sting and pleasure that will come next.

Biting down against his flesh, breaking skin, the girl drinks from her partner. Even though he’s at a distance from them, Jaebeom can tell by the look on the man’s face that he’s enjoying being fed on and that it certainly isn’t his first time. 

He feels like his eyes are frozen on the couple. It’s been so long since he fed off someone instead of the stuff that he gets from his connection at the hospital. Jaebeom tries not to think about the way his fingertips tingle and his throat dries up at the thought of drinking from a warm body. The alcohol has only dehydrated him and made him feel even more thirsty – he’s afraid that going back to the bar and asking Mark for a glass of O negative exclusively isn’t going to make that go away. 

After a moment or two, the girl removes her mouth from the boy’s neck and drags her tongue over the spot where she had drawn blood from, ultimately covering the wound and signaling that she was done drinking. 

He thinks of how risky it is to do that at a place like this. Although half of the people around them also take part in the activity of drinking blooding and granted most of them aren’t paying attention to those around them – there are still unsuspecting humans everywhere. If one wrong person were to see then that could be it for this club being a haven for the vampire community in the city and that would probably be… it for vampires in this city in general. 

But who was he kidding? He was being a hypocrite because he’s for sure done the same thing. 

You’ve once again entered his mind. However, this time it isn’t an image, picture, or vision that occupies his thoughts, but instead just the idea of how you would react to who he is, what he really is. Throughout his time that he’s been undead he’s only done the “reveal” to a handful of people and even then, it took him a long time to get there. Well except for one person who ultimately was a mistake and his friends hadn’t hesitated to let him know.

With you, Jaebeom felt that you wouldn’t be the kind of person to judge him instantly based on what he was. You would be shocked of course, maybe even scared, but you wouldn’t let that cloud your judgment. You wouldn’t let yourself reject something just because it was unfamiliar. 

What the fuck was he on about? 

It must be the alcohol doing this to him. He would have to thank Mark for making them strong this time around, but also make a mental note to never let this happen again. Jaebeom was already a deeper thinker, but this was getting out of hand.

There’s a sudden grasp of Jaebeom’s elbow and he feels himself jump at the sudden touch. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized it wasn’t one of his friends considering Bambam and Jinyoung were both dancing over to his right side. 

When he turned around to greet the person who had grabbed him, he was disappointed, surprised, and annoyed all in one. It was the last person he had expected to see her, except not really because it made perfect sense. 

“Jaebeom… hi.” Ara smiled shyly at him, tucking a string of hair behind her ear and slightly looking down at the ground. He wants to groan because he knows she’s doing this because he had once mentioned that he thought it was hot when she looked innocent. He shouldn’t have ever said that.

He’s not sure what to say, because what are you supposed to say to someone you’ve been trying to avoid for the past year and a half? Jaebeom had said everything he had wanted to say to her. 

At one point in his life, he had been stupid. He had been stupid and he had abused the power that had been bestowed upon him since the day he had been turned. Perhaps one would assume that he’d been foolish with his ability just at the start – 100, maybe even 150 years ago. Instead, Jaebeom had gone through a rough patch about a year or two ago. 

The overwhelming pressure of finding his mate had started to get to him again. All he needed was someone, anyone to break the hypnotic trance and that was it. A task that seemed so simple, yet never came. So, Jaebeom had used hypnotism to his advantage, getting as many girls as he could in his bed in the shortest amount of time possible. He wasn’t proud of it and it was something he would constantly regret as long as he was ali- around. 

One of those girls… had been Ara. 

Jaebeom felt relieved when she didn’t wait for him to answer back at her greeting, “How are you? I-It’s your birthday, right? How old are you turning again? 27?” She winked immediately after her question and he wants to roll his eyes.

She was the mistake by the way. The mistake that knew about who he was. 

He doesn’t even remember how it happened, how his secret slipped, or what the circumstances of her finding out was. Part of him thinks he was just horny, thirsty, and weak, but she found out and she… loved it. 

Weirdly enough, Ara loved the idea of him being a vampire and his “lifestyle” which at first Jaebeom didn’t think too much about. He thought okay she’s taking this extremely well… better than anyone else I’ve ever told, but whatever, but then it became strange. 

She was what those in the vampire community call a “vampire fetishizer.”

He coughed awkwardly, his gaze wandering over to Jinyoung and Bambam, hoping they would catch sight of him stuck with Ara and come rescue him. Jaebeom wasn’t that lucky though, not even on his birthday, “Yeah… 27.” 

Jaebeom can’t help but look at her neck. It’s fully on display and it was clear that Ara had come here to find someone to feed on her. He had been the one to show Ara this place before he had been clued into her little… vampire obsession. 

“Well did the birthday boy get everything he wants today?” She smiled and gave Jaebeom those eyes. He feels his cock twitch in his pants and he realizes he has to keep himself in check because he’s not that weak tonight… right? 

His eyes flash to her neck again and Jaebeom feels his throat get even drier. He was so thirsty and he knows Ara would be so willing. 

No Jaebeom… No. 

“I-I uh yeah… you know got- yeah today’s been good,” he stuttered awkwardly, bringing his tongue out to wet his dry lips. Judging on the look on Ara’s face, she’s taken the action the wrong way. 

“You look thirsty Jaebeom… do you want a drink?” 

He knows what she means and Jaebeom swallows hard in an attempt to distract himself, to remind himself that he’s not that thirsty. He doesn’t need it that bad.

“I-I think I am.” 

The words come out faster than his brain can process to stop them and the part of Jaebeom that’s coherent, sharp, and aware wants to punch the weak and drunk Jaebeom in the face. 

Without a word, Ara turned from Jaebeom and began walking to one of the exits at the side of the club. He feels like he’s the one in a trance, mindlessly following her through the people, not even hearing Jinyoung and Bambam calling out to him. The only thing that Jaebeom makes note of as he follows her is Mark’s face behind the bar, giving him a tight smile. It almost stops Jaebeom. Almost. 

When they finally get outside through the exit door, they find themselves in a small alley between the club and a dry cleaner. 

Jaebeom doesn’t even get a moment to think before Ara is pushing him against the wall of the dry cleaner, her hands roaming up and down his body, her lips going to his own. They’re pressed up against each other so closely that he recalls the couple he had watched earlier. He feels sick comparing this moment now to the two of them. 

“Fuck I missed you so much,” Ara sighed seductively into this ear, making Jaebeom’s stomach churn further at her clear longing for him. Well not him, but the vampire part of him.

“Please, I need it,” she mewled. At her words, he almost puts a stop to this whole thing and has to question whether this is the right thing to do. Jaebeom wonders if this is old Jaebeom behavior – the one that just used women and threw them away later like toys, but then he remembers that this is Ara. She’s using him as well. 

It’s almost as though that old, cocky, snide Jaebeom appears out of nowhere as he says his next words and brings himself closer to her neck, “do you really need it?” 

“Yes, Jaebeom I do, please.” Ara already sounds so desperate and he’s barely done anything. He can’t help but smirk at her reaction.

“Then I guess I better give it to you then.” 

He’s about to do it. He’s about to bite down and finally relieve his thirst, his craving, but then he looks to the side of the alley – towards the street. He feels like he’s seeing things again like he’s in the middle of a hallucination or mirage. That thought is pushed away when he locks eyes with you. 

“Don’t mind me,” you placed your hands up in front of yourself, to show him you’re not eavesdropping. Your action frustrated you because it would have been much better to say nothing, but you felt yourself panic. The prolonged eye contact with him while he’s just seconds away from pressing down – bitting down? – on the girl’s next for some reason pushed you into defensive mode. Not to mention his eyes… his eyes were – red? 

The girl hadn’t noticed you; you aren’t even sure if she heard you, but she certainly noticed Jaebeom’s stare fixated on you. When she faces you, she wears an unpleasant sneer, clearly annoyed by your interruption of whatever this was. 

“Can you go?” She said, the agitation in her voice more than apparent. 

Rather than immediately leave the scene, you continued to stare at Jaebeom. It’s difficult to say why you decided to walk this specific way home despite it being so late and dark out, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but be pulled in this direction. You weren’t someone who believed in signs or fate, but it felt so wrong to go any other way tonight. That was another thing, you felt this kink in your neck that practically forced you or taunted you into looking down the alley between this dry cleaners and club. It was yet another thing about today that felt unexplainable to you as you certainly weren’t expecting the birthday boy from the café today to be in a compromising position with some girl. 

After a moment of more uncomfortable staring – something else that had happened at the café today with him – Jaebeom breaks your gaze and looks down at his feet. The eye roll and acrid look on the girl’s face don’t go unnoticed by you. 

You shouldn’t be here. 

“S-Sorry. I’ll just get going then,” you concluded, unsure why you felt an uncomfortable sickness spread throughout the entirety of your body. 

You barely knew this guy – all you really knew was that today was his birthday and that he was friends with Minji’s boyfriend. Basically nothing. Yet now and even earlier back at the café you had felt this weird sensation within yourself. Not even when you looked at him, but just being in the same presence. It had been so hard to focus on making coffee today when he was seated across the room. Every part of your body just wanted to get closer, gravitate towards him. It was fucking weird… and scary. 

The girl nodded as if to signal “yeah about time,” at the announcement of your departure. Jaebeom on the other hand, still had his eyes glued to the ground as if looking at you once again will cause him some kind of pain.

Just as you’re about to continue your trip back home, you stop yourself and look back at the couple in the alley. 

“Happy birthday by the way…” you paused wondering if it would be weird to say his name considering he doesn’t even know yours, but you shove the thought out of your mind, “Jaebeom…”    

Hearing you say his name causes that tingling feeling in his fingertips to come back and his entire mind is sent into a frenzy. He feels too awkward, too shy to look at you again, but a sudden thought washed over him. What if earlier was a mistake? What if you are his mate? With the way he was currently feeling just at you saying his name, the visions he had in the club and the nonstop place you know had in his mind, it was difficult to believe that you weren’t his mate. 

Bambam and Jinyoung had found it difficult to explain to him what it felt like to find your mate, but surely what he felt right now wasn’t normal behavior or feelings. Unless he was a psychopath. 

Tightly shutting his eyes and drawing together all his strength, Jaebeom aims to try once again to see if you can break the hypnotic trance, unaffected by his abilities. However, as soon as he’s finally ready, head turned up to face you – you’re gone. You didn’t wait for him to respond to the happy birthday message. Instead, you simply left not wanting to be a burden or troublesome to whatever it was those two were doing in that alley. 

“Thank fucking god, let’s get back to it,” Ara concluded with a final roll of her eyes, gripping Jaebeom’s shoulders to get him close to her once again. He stares at her neck, but this time he doesn’t feel anything. He no longer feels thirsty and his appetite is gone. 

Jaebeom shrugs her off slightly. The encounter with you has caused him to wake up and realize what a bad idea it would be to do this right now. He hopes that Ara won’t put up a fight – he doesn’t want to have to hypnotize her if he doesn’t need to. 

At his actions, Ara takes a step away in disbelief, as if she actually can’t believe that Jaebeom is changing his mind and no longer wants her, “are you serious?” 

He doesn’t say anything but instead avoids eye contact with her just as he had done for you. 

Snorting, she glared at him, “Fine. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. I can find someone else to feed off of me. Yours never felt that good anyway. Asshole.”

Just like that, she’s out of his life once again and Jaebeom can’t help but feel thankful. He should have never been weak enough to be dragged out by here anyway. He had just been consumed by thoughts of you, alcohol, and the couple on the dancefloor. Then again, not coming out here would have robbed him of the opportunity of seeing you again and finding out that you actually knew his name. 

That’s when it dawned on him. 

Fuck… how much had you seen? What did you see? 

Jaebeom realized that he might have some explaining to do

[fandom-necromancer]

Hope

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I didn’t want this to get this depressing, but it kind of happened and it felt good? I don’t know, if you want something more fluffy, just send me another prompt!

Fandom: Detroit become human Ship: Hannor/Hankon (Hank-centric) Warnings: Depression, suicidal character (to the canon extent), alcoholism

The bottle was cool in his hand. A welcome weight he had gotten used to too much. While a part of him knew he really shouldn’t, an even greater part craved it. The numbness it promised. The way it silenced the voice in his head overthinking everything and, maybe even more importantly, the way it soothed the ache that had nestled deep inside him and had refused to leave him ever since. He had the feeling it hid from him. On good days, his grief hid so well he didn’t even notice. But that made it even more hateful, because Hank knew it was there. Hank knew it was there, waiting for him. Hiding away until the perfect moment to come back and hit him full force. Most of the time it was just before sleep took him. In that peculiar space between wakefulness and sleep where you had just drifted away only to be pulled back into the world by memories hurting deeply at your core. Sometimes it came back in the most mundane moments: When he was cleaning – what was rarely enough. When he was watching something on the TV and his thoughts drifted. When he was at work, and he had to face a case so awfully similar to his own.

Or when a day had gone just terrible.

It was the latter why Hank was once again sitting at his kitchen table surrounded by too many chairs and an empty house. Sumo must have known what was going on, because he had come over after Hank’s second beer and had pressed his wet snout against the hand that hadn’t had the bottle in a tight grip. Hank had petted him and scratched behind his ears, mumbled a few non-committing words of comfort to the dog and watched him lay down next to him. He was a goddamn lifesaver, an anker to this life. He didn’t even want to imagine how he would carry on without him.

He looked up to the little framed picture in front of him. His eyes traced the smile forever frozen in that small fracture of a memory. He couldn’t even really remember when he had taken the photo. It had been so many years… Some days the little boy looked almost like a stranger to him. The brain was just cruel like that, making you forget the details of how someone looked or behaved, but never letting you forget the loss. ‘Cole…’ Hank heard the little thump of Sumo’s tail wagging once on the ground to the sound of his voice. ‘The android I told you about… Today I met it.’ He sighed. ‘To be honest, I don’t know what to make of it.’ He took a deep gulp from the bottle. ‘Fucking thing just showed up like that, found me at the bar and then just… That machine bought me another fucking whiskey. Wanna know who was fucked up enough to program that behaviour into that thing. I hate it.’ He pressed his eyes together and slammed the bottle on the table. ‘Fuck, I hate it so fucking much. They have to take everything from me. Your mother, you, my will to live and now my job. And I can’t even complain. Thing is perfect. Can deduce everything a human can, can scan everything and everyone and is a walking talking forensics laboratory. Can’t wait to be on the streets like all these sorry fuckers out there having less luck.’

He looked up at the ever-smiling boy in front of him. ‘I just want to take every last of these tin-cans and smash it against some wall, see all that fancy technology break and their weird blue blood flow out of them. But it’s useless. They are machines, they don’t feel it. And if it’s broken it will be repaired.’ He chuckled drily. ‘Not like a human. If a human breaks, it’s discarded and left alone. How absurd has the world become.’ He finished his beer and looking over to the empty box, he sighed. ‘Time for the good stuff.’ He went over to the cabinet and took out a half-full bottle of whiskey. ‘Drink it while I still have the money to buy it, huh?’

-

It had started raining as Hank had been driving home today. It had been overcast all day, but apparently now the heavy clouds had decided to break. Well, better now than… earlier that day. Who knew what would had happened when it had been raining the moment the deviant had pushed him off the building. He was sure he could have made it up without help, but he still appreciated the damn bot to come to his aid instead of chasing their suspect. He certainly hadn’t expected it. Why had the android done that?

He still contemplated that question when he grabbed his first beer of the day out of habit. Everything he knew of androids had told him that the mission came first. That cold calculation of risk and chance of success. Connor must have known he could have done it himself. But he had still decided to help him. No, no, a machine couldn’t decide, that wasn’t possible. Had they just updated the damn things to look out for human life? Somehow that didn’t feel right when the android had been hell-bent on completing his mission before. But in the end, he couldn’t quite determine what must have happened. He had no clue about programming something, he just knew it from movies and that one time in his youth he had tried it. Maybe nowadays there were some fancy algorithms that allowed choice?

He was caught in this loop for the rest of the evening, thinking of the why and how and still never getting over the subjective, human view of “He helped me”. Well, after his beer had gone stale, he wasn’t in the mood for another one and just went to bed.

-

It was quiet that evening. Hank was sitting in his chair again, an empty beer-bottle in the narrow space that was left between half-eaten take-out from the night before. He didn’t bother standing up to get a new one, too deep in thoughts staring at the gun. ‘The next shot would have killed you.’ It should have been sobering, but he could only feel indifference. ‘He just barged in here, you know? Saw me on the floor, shattered the window and jumped in. Would you believe that Cole? Almost as if he was… concerned… Hah, a machine can’t be concerned, what am I saying.’

But the android had cared enough to check on him, right? He could have just made the conclusion he was dead or at least not fit for work and requested someone else. Or he could have gone alone. But no, he came in and tried to get him out of his horrible hangover. And for what? The mission? He would have been faster leaving him behind. So why did he do it?

‘He also let them go, Cole. Two girls – androids, Jesus… They killed the man, confessed right then and there. He… Connor had ample time to shoot them, but he hesitated even before they reasoned with him. That… A machine cannot hesitate. An android this focussed on his mission would not hesitate. They were deviants. He let them go. Showed compassion. And not in a robot kind of way, I mean with his kind maybe but also for me. Shit, Cole. I’m a wreck. I’m drunk, I’m fucking depressed, half the time I couldn’t even bother to change when I go outside. And still this android… if he were human, I would say he cared for me. Liked me. We could be friends. And I… Hell, sometimes I forget he isn’t. And that I’m talking to a machine, humanise him. But am I? If it weren’t for that dumb mood-light, would I even notice?’

He sighed. ‘I had this conversation with him tonight, you know. Where we- Where you… Fuck. Shouldn’t have gone there. This android is something… I asked him the same questions I asked myself, but the answers didn’t bring me any further. Is he a cold machine? No. Is he human? No. I think the real question is if it matters in the end.’ He reached for Cole’s picture and put it in front of the gun, so it blocked it from his sight.

‘And I’m really afraid of the answer to that.’

-

‘I’m at the end of my wits, Cole.’ The small army of bottles on the table, his slurred speech and the fact that everything was somehow spinning, didn’t help that he felt terrible – even without the alcohol he would have. ‘Today I… This android, Connor. I think I found the answer today. We were… well we were investigating but he found an android. And he did this weird… connection or whatever the hell that shit is. The deviant killed itself then. And that boy, well… He looked shaken. Traumatised. Fuck, Cole, if I know one look on someone’s face, then this one. How many rookies have I brought to their first murder scene? How many have I helped throwing up behind some corner? That were real feelings, Cole, doesn’t matter if they are programmed for whatever cruel reason. Those were real emotions.’

He was about to open another bottle, but stopped at the resistance of the cap. Then he let go, deciding otherwise. ‘We were to Kamski’s later that day. The Kamski. He’s a prick like all rich people are. But he offered Connor answers if he killed an android. A machine would have done it on the spot. But Connor didn’t. He refused to do it. Declined vital information for his only purpose. He showed compassion there.’

Hank let himself fall back in his chair and the nausea that caused was almost too much. ‘I am a police officer. If I see evidence, then I build up hypotheses and the more I find the closer to the truth I get. I think I ignored the evidence here long enough to keep the hypothesis that I feel comfortable with. I just can’t do that any longer. This android is alive, and a person and I like him. I enjoy working with him. He seems lost in a way I can understand, but on the other hand not even begin to. It confuses me and at the same time I think for the first time I see the whole puzzle. Fuck, maybe I am too drunk for this, but Connor is more than just an android and I want to help him where I can. I have the feeling we are on the wrong side of this fight.’

Hank stood up and walked over to his bedroom, using the wall for stability. He let himself fall into bed and managed to pull the cover over himself. ‘Cole, if you hear me, I am sorry. I don’t want to betray you; I know it was an android and AI that killed you. But I just feel like I have to do this. I just know this is right.’

-

It was the first evening Hank hadn’t spent drunk. He had fetched himself a bottle, opened it too, but that was as far as it had gotten. He was sitting in front of the TV, watching the news. It was reported on repeat what had happened that night, how the androids had marched to the camps and seemed to now prepare. For what Hank didn’t know. ‘He is out there, Cole’, he mumbled. ‘Connor is out there. And I can’t help him. I’m feeling powerless. I know he is out there and in danger and I can’t do anything but sit here and do nothing. Watch. I hope he makes it. What we do is wrong. These androids are alive and persons and anyone who still says otherwise just doesn’t want to accept they were wrong. I’m… I just want him back. I want that everything is okay in the end and that he survives this. I don’t think I could stomach losing another person I…’ He fell silent and let the agitated reporter fill the heavy quiet of the room. ‘Do I love him? Not like I loved your mother and not how I loved you, it’s different. But a no less strong feeling. I want to see him save; I want to see what he will do in the future. I want to work with him again. I would… I would like to just live with him. Yes… Yes, I think I love him. Hell…’

He did grab the bottle just to quiet all the voices that screamed at him for how wrong this was. How he could feel that way when this technology was exactly what had ruined his life and took others. But it wasn’t technology, was it? It was humans, always had been. A surgeon high on Red-Ice. The person programming that automated truck. ‘Can’t we do something good for a change?’, Hank sighed. ‘Let them live? Just wait and see what happens?’ He stayed quiet, while the assault on the makeshift barricade began. ‘I hope he comes back to me, Cole’, Hank murmured over the bottleneck.

‘Come back to me, Connor’, he pleaded over the far away gunfire. ‘Please, come back. I don’t think I could live without you anymore.’

He had to switch the TV off. He couldn’t watch as the androids were slaughtered without second thoughts. He couldn’t stop seeing Connor in their place. He couldn’t stop feeling how the chance for success, for peace dwindled with every passing second. He could only sit in this empty, too big house he didn’t clean and wait. For whatever might happen.

‘The next shot would have killed you.’ Hank hadn’t turned the barrel since then. He didn’t plan to, if today took all what was left of his hope.

The silence was like a blanket, thick and dampening. It felt like suffocating. There was nothing to be done but wait.

Then there was a knock. A bark. A smile.