#the heat makes my joints act up and it’s exhausting on top of work

[butnobodyhome]

I know that most, if not all, of my mutuals and writing partners know that I’m slow with replies and are okay with that, but the anxiety just likes to worm it’s way in and make me cry looking at all the stuff I owe and don’t know when I’ll have the energy to get to

[weareallstoriesintheend]

As Long As You Need (Reader x Adam Sackler)

Summary: Adam and Reader are hookup buddies. Adam gets concerned that you don't want to see him for a few weeks and comes over to check on reader. Reader is struggling with anxiety/depression and Adam comforts them through a panic attack.

Warnings: Depression, anxiety & panic attacks

Note: This was the fic I wrote for the Summer 2021 @adcuficexchange for LondonID!🥰 I hope this fic is something that resonates with people, I know mental health is a vast and personal subject but I hope something hits home. Even if it's just some beautiful care from our favourite gremlin 💕

The light of the day was fading slowly and the grey cover of dusk was slipping its way into the room. You lay in bed, head tucked against the pillows, body exhausted with the expense of the energy anxiety was taking from you. You felt empty and yet full to the brim, your mind weighed so heavy that you could barely move most days. The second you heard the loud thumping knocks on your front door you jolted as if waking up from a bad dream.

“Kid you in there?” Adams voice came, muffled by the thick wood of the doors between you, booming through your silence. You realised in that moment that you hadn’t spoken to him or seen him for a while and as someone who was a pretty regular occurrence in your life it suddenly felt strange to hear his voice after such a long time, you pulled your phone out from under the pillow and unlocked it. Your eyes screwed shut at the blinding light, but peeking through your eyelashes you checked your messages. Your last text to him had been nearly 3 weeks ago, then the page was just filled with him texting you again and again. All of which, in the haze of your mind, you had ignored. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him; you craved his cheeky smile, soft hair and adorable galaxy of freckles that smattered his skin. It was just the thought of having to explain the tornado that was tearing you apart that felt like a crushing pressure you couldn’t bear. Basic daily life was enough, sometimes too much, so anything on top of that you had shut out.

You curled yourself into the sheets a little more, pulling them around your shoulders. Although they were soft cotton the brush of them across your overly sensitive skin felt like sandpaper dragging over a raw exposed nerve. You stayed as still as possible whilst his knocks continued to echo through your apartment.

In a way you wondered if you had any obligation to him at all, you guys just hooked up every now and again after meeting at a mutual friends birthday party a year or so ago. Nothing serious, no dates, just fucking. He scratched an itch for you so you didn’t have to brave the dating world that daunted you. He was fun, he made you laugh but he didn’t pressure you to spend any more time with him than coming over to hold you face down into your mattress allowed.

The knocks turned to bangs of a fist and you pulled your blanket over your head, maybe he’d just go away if he thought you weren’t home. Your body thrummed with the disturbance of your comfortable silence and it made you uneasy. A slight nausea rippled through your throat. “I know you’re home” his voice bellowed, you closed your eyes and didn’t respond. “Open the fucking door kid” he shouted, he didn’t sound angry but you couldn’t quite make out the tone. He’d never used it before around you that’s for sure, he almost sounded worried. Then there was more thumping on the door, “Kid, for fucks sake your sweet old lady neighbour is looking at me like I’m fucking nuts, open the door”

You sighed and slung yourself off the bed onto your feet. The rush of movement made your head spin; your muscles and joints ached with a lack of energy. You tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the main room of your apartment, hoping that he couldn’t hear your deliberately soft padding footsteps. With your eyes trained on the door you didn’t notice the chair sticking out from the table and you bumped it as you passed. You froze dead still waiting to see if he’d heard it.

“I can hear you rustling around in there. Just open the fucking door and talk to me”

“I don’t want you to see me” you replied hesitantly, not raising the volume of your voice too high knowing he could hear you through the door now. The croak of your voice finally speaking was crackly and broken. “Why not?”

“I… I don’t look great” you looked at yourself in the reflection of the painting hanging on the wall. In the glass you could just about see yourself looking back; your hair was greasy and dishevelled, your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red and dark circles created a deep shadow underneath them. You suddenly balked at how awful you actually looked, you hadn’t showered in a few days and it really showed. Your face looked kind of gaunt with the limited food and sleep you’d given yourself for the last few weeks, mind always racing with one thought after another. The racing thoughts only leaving space for the basics of working at your laptop for 8 hours a day and activities to numb your mind till a restless bedtime. “Are you kidding?” he scoffed, thumping his fist once against the door, “I’ve seen you sweating, crying and covered in my cum… I don’t think you looking a little messy is going to be bother me” You cringed at how loud he was talking and in your embarrassment you frantically pulled the door open, “Jesus Adam don’t say that so loud my neighbours will hear y-“ you paused mid-sentence when you saw how he was looking at you. He was shocked and trying to hide it but his eyes were wide with sympathy. You instantly went to close the door on him again but he put his overly large foot in the way.

“Nope, no way! You opened it, I’m like a vampire, you’ve got to let me in now” he smiled cheekily. You sighed and let go of the door walking away from him. “Listen I don’t know why you’re here” you said, voice trailing behind you as you made your way to the couch hearing him step inside and close the door behind him, “I don’t really think I’m in any fit state to be fucking anyone” “I’m not here to fuck you” he retorted, for some reason that kind of stung. “Then why are you here?” you said, nestling into the couch cushions as he firmly placed himself standing in front of you. Adam was staring down at you with that intense glare he always seemed to have and you squinted your eyes, hurting due to the light from the windows, to look up at him. “Why am I here? You haven’t talked to me for like… three weeks. What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I thought I was going to find you rotting in the bathtub or some shit” You rolled your eyes “I’m fine” “Oh right this…” he paused, flailing his arms at the quite frankly disgusting state of your living room, “… this is ‘fine’?” “This is as good as it gets” you muttered under your breath. He scoffed and you looked up at him, you took a second to take him in. He’d clearly run here, the beads of sweat were trailing gently down his temples and had matted the curly little front pieces of his hair. The outfit he was wearing, a dark blue cut off tank top, grey knee length shorts and heavy tan work boots over cream socks, would look kind of uncoordinated on anyone else but something about Adam always just… made sense.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nothing” you rolled your eyes again, “You know you can just go right? I don’t even know why you’re bothering”

“What are you talking about kid? I wanted to make sure you were alright. You went all ghost on me and I was worried about you”

“Worried?” now it was your turn to scoff, you could feel the sickening panic rolling around inside your stomach and you needed him to leave.

“Yeah kid… worried” Adams voice suddenly had a tinge of anger behind it and it made the panic swirl harder around inside you.

“Well I don’t need you to worry about me. That’s not your job, your job is to fuck me and leave. And you’re good at that. So you do your job and I’ll do mine”

“Not true” he retorted, face screwed up a little against the harshness of your words.

“You were the one that set those rules Adam” you replied, frustration tainting your words “You don’t need to act like you give a shit”

“Hey when I commit, I really commit” “Commit to what?” you shouted, losing a little of your patience as your ears started to ring and the blood pumped through your body like a steady beat of music. “Commit to you!” he yelled back “We may not be dating or whatever but when I want someone in my life I work for that. Clearly you don’t…we are supposed to be fucking friends after all!”

He had every right to be mad, you had barely treated him like a human being lately and the wash of guilt made your heart start to jump in its rhythm. You could feel the brush of heat up the back of your neck and your pulse thudding in your ears. You shook your head wishing away what you knew was happening; the panic of the overwhelming sense of everything was rising up from your toes. He couldn’t see you like this, it was too embarrassing.

Although your breath was basically coming out like gasps you looked up at him and firmly said “Please leave”

He shook his head “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re avoiding me. Did I do something?” You stood up from your seat on the couch but didn’t get very far, your body felt over stimulated and you couldn’t get your mind clear enough to decide where to go to escape him. So you started pacing back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides.

“Adam please just go” this time your voice betrayed you even further, the tell-tale break in your speech giving away the tears that had begun to brim in your eyes. You pushed the base of your palms harshly into your eye sockets, rubbing away the tears. “Hey hey hey” he said softly, reaching out for your wrists and you flinched back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Please just leave!” you shouted, panicked breath coming out of you in heavy pants. “I can’t breathe” you whispered to yourself turning away from him. Your tears, now virtually unstoppable, cascaded down your cheeks as the panic truly set in. You swayed slightly as you began to feel light-headed.

“Tell me what you need” you heard him say, but his voice felt like it was miles away from you even as he stood mere steps away with his hands outstretched slightly in your direction.

This was it, you were officially going crazy. You couldn’t even handle a simple conversation or own up to your shitty actions. You stole a glance at Adam, his eyebrows were pulled down with concern watching you and a wave of nausea rolled up into the back of your throat. He was going to think you were insane after this, this was the last time you were ever going to see him and this was how you were acting. You felt your cheeks heat up, burning with panic and embarrassment. One of the only things that kept you afloat, the only thing had made you happy as of late, was going to walk out. You could imagine him telling his friends about the crazy chick he used to fuck on the side, “She just totally flipped out on me, honestly man fucking nuts” you could practically hear his voice already, full of mocking vitriol towards you.

Then you really started to hyperventilate, chest aching with the weight of your gasps, but something in the back of your mind gave you respite… that wasn’t Adam. That wouldn’t be how he would act. He was kind. You glanced up at him as your hands began to shake violently.

“I-I’m sorry” you stuttered out, you felt your body collapse underneath you as the room began to spin around you. He dove forward to catch you as your body buckled down to the hard wooden floor.

“Come here” his voice was gentle and barely audible to you but he held you tight, this time you didn’t flinch and he quickly gathered you into his arms in the fear you would move away from him again. “It’s just a panic attack, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, it’ll be over soon” As he pulled you into his chest, seating himself on the floor with you, he stretched his long legs out around you so his whole body was caging you against him. Your breath instantly started to slow down as the warmth and closeness of him soothed you. He didn’t speak too much, he just calmed your mind with hushed whispers of “Shhh” and “You’re going to be okay”.

You clung yourself to him, vibrating with the force of the trembles that were wracking your body. Your teeth chattered in your head causing you to screw your eyes closed in pain. Your fingers wound tight in his shirt as your breathing finally began to even out. Your body released some of the tension that was winding your muscles tight and you leant a little more into his chest.

“H-how did you know?” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper as you regained your breath.

He shrugged “My mom used to get them… and my sister for a while. I’m used to it.” he smiled softly, lips merely twitching up at the edges as he gauged your reaction. He stroked his large hand through your tangled hair, massaging his fingers over your scalp as your body relaxed and you sighed. “Better?” he asked, placing a careful kiss to the top of your head. You nodded, the scent of his cologne and sweat drifted over you as you kept yourself gripped against him, not quite ready to be moved from his warmth.

“You didn’t have to do this” you croaked, looking up at him now. He shook his head and rolled his eyes jokingly, a smirk coming over his lips as he does it.

“You know we don’t just have to fuck right? We can be more than that.” he chuckled, holding your face gently with one hand, “We can also talk, we are friends right?”

You nodded again, looking up at him with wide glassy eyes. He kissed the tip of your nose and you scrunched it.

“Listen maybe we’re just friends for a little while. We can… get lunch or walk through the park when the weather gets better. Whatever you want” he shrugged, you smiled at the level of effort he was so clearly trying to give. Adam hated stuff like that, lunches out and walks in the park; he often said how trivial it all seemed to him. He liked to be at home in his own little world. So the fact he was offering to make you feel better was more than enough to bring a smile to your face. You nodded and giggled when he pumped the air with his fist in celebration.

“And you know, if you need someone to come with you to therapy or whatever I can do that too” he mumbled clearly unsure how you would respond, “You still go to therapy right? I know you mentioned it a while ago and I figured-“ he began to ramble nervously. You pressed your hand into his chest and nodded.

You pushed yourself up a little and placed a kiss to his cheek, “That would help, thank you”

He shuffled a little and rose to get to his feet before extending a hand out to you. You clasped your hand across his, so much smaller in his grasp, and used his body weight to pull yourself up on unsteady legs. He wrapped his arms around you a little bit, his body hunched over yours protectively.

“But first, you need food… and a shower” he paused for a moment, making small grunt-like thinking noises as he looked you over. Then all at once he dipped and gathered you up in his arms, you squealed loudly and wrapped your arms around his neck “What are you doing?” you protested through unsure giggles.

He didn’t say anything but started walking towards your bathroom. He kicked the door open with the toe of his boot and swung his arms so that your head just missed the door frame. He propped you, sitting upright, on the edge of your bathtub before reaching up and turning on your shower. He gestured for you to stand as the water began heating up behind you. Soft clouds of steam quickly started to rise up around the room and he nodded with satisfaction. He tentatively tugged at the base of your oversized-hoodie and you raised your arms above your head. He slipped your hoodie off in one swift motion and dropped it to the floor beside you both. You self-consciously crossed your arms over your now bare chest and he smiled down at you. He placed a kiss to your forehead before kneeling down to wriggle your panties off your hips and down your legs. You shuffled shyly, despite the fact he’d seen you naked so very many times, and stepped out of them as he reached your ankles. He tossed them on top of your hoodie, placing a tender kiss to your stomach as he knelt in front of you, before standing back up to his full height “I’ll get you fresh stuff and wash those” he noted, almost to himself as he spun you by your shoulders so you had your back to him. “You get in there” he pointed to the steady stream of hot water creating billows of steam in the small bathroom, “And I’m going to make you some soup, you still have cans of that chicken one you like?” You nodded once and he placed a firm kiss to your shoulder. With his hands on your waist he placed a final kiss to the top of your head before his touch left you completely. You smiled at his constant need to show you physical care, it was like he understood how even simple affection could heal even the worst of the pain your brain could throw at you. You turned to look over your shoulder as he left the room; like he sensed your hesitation he stopped and turned to look at you with a sweet smile…

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me too”

[watermelonlipstick]

The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

This is a request for anon, who asked: 

i don’t know if your requests are open, but if they are, could you do one where the reader has tattoos that dean doesn’t know about and then he sees them when he has to stitch them up after a hunt? (maybe like season 1 or 2 dean) thank you!!!

And then wrote to me privately that they have a dragon tattoo on one shoulder.

It was a lot of fun to write; tons of opportunities to slip in some good classic rock references! I miss in the super early seasons when Sam and Dean seemed to rag on each other pretty much constantly. I hope this is what you were thinking of!

Title: The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2589 

Summary: Dean is surprised to discover the reader has tattoos.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence/mention of blood, swearing, fluff!!

           Sam moves to the middle of the front bench to shuck off his coat as Dean is getting out of the car, and gives it to you with a long arm over the leather. “Can you hand me that blue jacket?”

           You have to over-rotate to use your other hand to grab it, keeping your grip tight on your own shirt in the most bastardized version of a sling. Sam, of course, notices.

           “You think it’s broken or dislocated?”

           A hard chuckle blows out of your nose. “Really hope it’s just dislocated, I’ll tell you that.”

           He gives you a sympathetic smile as he throws on the blue jacket and zips it all the way up to his neck. It looks like he’s covering something up and naturally, he is, thin hoodie and t shirt underneath drenched with enough werewolf blood that it’s clinging to his chest almost pornographically. But his face is untouched and he has use of both his arms which is more than can be said for you or Werewolf Shiner Winchester, making him the only reasonable choice to send for gauze and ACE bandages at the closest pharmacy.

           Dean stops his grimace-covered stretching just outside the car and opens your door with an outstretched hand as Sam slides into the driver’s seat. “You coming?”

           Taking his hand with your good one, you let Dean close the door behind you without any of the normal grumbling about treating you like you’re made of porcelain, in an effort to keep your face neutral around the jolts of pain through your shoulder. Sam pulls out of the motel parking lot ultra-gently like it’s his first day with a learner’s permit the way he does when he knows Dean is watching. It makes you smile to yourself as exhaust dissipates across the cracked blacktop.

           Crossing the asphalt with tired strides Dean opens the motel door for you too, and you walk in before him. “Is that yours?” he asks, dropping his coat on the cheap couch and wincing through the removal of his flannel. In the light of the room you’re better able to see his black eye and realize it’s going to take weeks for that to go away, not relishing another inevitable conversation about makeup to sell a G-man cover story. It makes it so much easier for the families of victims to believe you’re legit when none of you look like you’ve been in a bar fight, but getting Dean to believe cover-up is in the name of the greater good is an uphill battle on the best of days.

           “Is what mine?”

           “The blood you’re covered in like nacho cheese. Dude, if that’s all over the car—”

           He deserves credit for trying not to smile as you try to look over your shoulder like a puppy chasing its tail, but he does guide you over to the mirror on the wall to see. He’s right, blood has seeped all down your coat, sticky and shiny like syrup. It’s far too wet to be from near 30 minutes ago when you got in the car. “Fuck, I really like this jacket.”

           “You have like 5 just like it taking up space in my trunk; you’ll live. Here, take that off, I’ll stitch you up.” Dean starts rifling through his bag for supplies, rolling some kinks out of his neck.

           “It doesn’t even hurt, I just need you to pop my shoulder back in so I can take a shower.”

           “I don’t give a shit what hurts, slugger. You’re going to pass out in the tub if you keep up the stuck pig act.”

           You roll your eyes and reluctantly try to slide your arms out of the jacket, wincing when you jostle the dislocated arm. Dean takes the sopping coat from you and tosses it into the kitchenette sink from where he stands, the concern coloring his face when you look back at him not reassuring you at all. He puts the floss-threaded needle he’d had in his hand between his teeth and starts pulling on your collar.

           “Shoulder first,” you insist, done wiggling and writhing out of clothes before your shoulder is where it belongs.

           Dean’s mouth tightens into a firm line but he backs up to give himself enough room to shove, an exasperated hand beckoning you. “Okay, you ready?” he says around the needle, looking like a farmer field medic with a piece of hay.

           “Yeah just let me—FUCK,” you grunt when he catches you off guard without any preamble, clutching at the shoulder for a moment until you could take a deep breath. You do a test rotation and are happy at the relative lack of pain, trying not to be frustrated that Dean didn’t warn you so you wouldn’t tense up.

           “Shirt off.” Dean’s tone is firm and precise, no room for discussion, as he gets out a lighter and watches intently to heat up the needle.

           “Wow, you sure know how to make someone feel special,” you hum, feeling much looser without the shooting pain from your shoulder. The buttons of the flannel come undone relatively easy, but the fabric makes a sickly wet thwack as you snap it down to rest around your elbows.

           From his spot at your side, you see Dean’s face contort in surprise and watch as he reflexively reaches out a thumb to rub the skin of your shoulder.

           “Ow, what the hell?” you flinch.

           “Has this always been here?” he asks, partly amazed but mostly incredulous as his eyes trace the inky lines of the dragons where they wind around your skin.

           “I wasn’t born with them if that’s what you mean.” You can tell he’s truly shocked because he doesn’t even react to the jab, just hovers a gentle fingertip over the tattoo. “Earth to Dean? I thought you were all scared about me bleeding out.”

           He gulps and clears his throat before covering with a smile that’s a combination of cheeky and shy. “Right, yeah, sorry. Just didn’t realize I was in the presence of The Tattooed Wonder.”

           “Hardly, I only have a few. Now start stitching before I change my mind and wait for Sam; his are way neater than yours anyway.”

           “Few? Where are the other ones? Girls on the back of your leg that hula when you walk?”

           “Nice try.”

           He bites his lip before shifting the strap of your tank top off and sponging the back of your shoulder with a wet towel. When he unceremoniously pours a slug of whiskey over the wound you feel it for the first time and hiss, adrenaline and distraction of the joint pain worn off.

           “Sorry,” he murmurs, already dragging floss tight on a stitch with his teeth and moving on to the next as quickly as he can, half-humming that old Queen song, “gonna get me on the track, got a dragon on my back.”

           You weren’t lying earlier when you’d said that Sam’s stitches were usually cleaner, but Dean is being very careful in a way he usually isn’t—Chicks dig scars, Sammy! Stopped the bleeding, didn’t it?—and you tip your head back to check his work. The extra time he’s taking is to match up the back of one of the dragons, ripped open by a werewolf claw and currently held together by the delicate pinch of Dean’s index and thumb.

           It’s tough, but you manage to grab the reins on a smirk. Dean doesn’t notice, too focused on trying to keep the damage to your tattoo at a minimum. The gesture and the concentration are impossibly sweet, even though you’d long accepted that ink injury was inevitable with your lifestyle.

           When he’s done, callused fingertips tugging the last knot in place, Dean grabs the whiskey again. “Hold still,” he breathes, close enough you can feel it dance across the skin of your neck, and you hope he can’t see the goosebumps trailing down your arms like ivy. “That should do it. You can grab the first shower, but it’s big enough that some gauze on top for a few days wouldn’t hurt.”

           “Thanks,” you answer, startled and annoyed at your own voice when it creaks a touch. The flannel feels gross and heavy with blood, so you pull your arms out entirely and reach to drop it in the wastebasket.

           “I can deal with that if you want,” he offers, ruffling the velvet-short hair at the back of his neck. “The coat too. Not the first time getting blood out of clothes.”

           “Oh, okay. Uh, thanks. That would be really nice.”

           Dean only meets your eyes for the most fleeting moment when he takes it before biting his lip again and nodding to himself. You get to your feet and gingerly slip the displaced straps back over your shoulder, feeling the shift in energy in the room and not knowing what to do with it. Settling for a jocular little punch to Dean’s bicep, you grin at him. “Thanks for putting me back together, doc.”

           Sam comes back a couple minutes after you’ve closed the bathroom door with a translucent plastic bag full of first aid supplies. “In the shower?”

           Dean looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch and hands Sam the beer he’d already gotten out of the fridge in anticipation, his leg bouncing rapidly. “Yeah. They have everything?”

           His younger brother nods and accepts the bottle, taking a sip before laying out his haul on the coffee table and tossing the bag. “You okay?”

           He glances up with a quirked eyebrow. “Just tired, man.”

           Sam waits a silent beat, giving Dean a chance to spill whatever it is.

           “Did you, ah—did you know Y/N’s all inked up like a friggin’ sailor?”

           Sam chuckles and runs his tongue over his teeth. “A sailor? Y/N’s only got a few tattoos, dude.”

           “You knew?”

           “Of course I knew, some people like to learn things about their friends. That’s why you’re acting weird?”

           Dean scowls over the glass lip of his beer before taking a long pull. “Not acting weird, sue me for being surprised we’re working with the goddamn Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo.” His voice is low and surly like a kid on the edge of a tantrum even he knows isn’t worth it.

           “Y/N can do whatever they want, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you like the tattoos, you’re not their dad.” Sam’s barely keeping the giggle out of his voice, enjoying Dean’s frustration the way only a little brother could.

           “No, I don’t—it’s not that I don’t like them,” Dean stammers, the end of the statement fading off as a flush starts rising in his cheeks. He knows he’s said too much and Sam jumps on it.

           “Wait—you do like them, don’t you?” He crashes onto the couch, long limbs just enough in Dean’s space to be irritating. “I bet you loooooove knowing about those tattoos—I bet you’re dying to see them.”

           “Shut the fuck up,” Dean growls, kicking Sam in the thigh with a socked foot. Sam blocks him and starts laughing hard enough it makes him rattle all over like he’s on a rickety rollercoaster. When he finally catches his breath Dean is still pouting to whatever syndicated sitcom he’d thrown on. Over the tinny TV speakers they hear the shower turn off.

           “You know, if you’re feeling shy I could say something for you.” Sam’s grin is ten steps past cheeky, firmly planted in devilish, and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively over top of dimples perfectly sliced into his cheeks.

           Dean’s eyes widen like a cartoon and his voice is a gravelly hiss as he grabs a tight handful of Sam’s t-shirt, now crisp with dried blood. “Sam, I fucking swear to God—” but the threat is ineffectual, sheepish panic clear as anything on his face. The glint in Sam’s eye brightens and he twists out of his brother’s grip before he can react, crossing the room in a few huge steps so he’s nearly face to face with you when you open the bathroom door, Dean leaping off of the couch to chase him and slamming into Sam’s back when he stops short.

           “Whoa, Jesus—you scared the shit out of me,” you breathe, one hand on top of your fresh t-shirt to still your racing heartbeat, fistful of dirty laundry in the other.

           “Just need that second shower, didn’t mean to freak you out!” Sam smiles, warm and light and genuine. “Thanks! Gauze is on the table if you want it.” he says as he slips past you with a friendly and familiar kiss on the cheek, wink that you can’t see to Dean over your shoulder as he closes the bathroom door fast enough that the mirror next to the frame barely even steams.

           “Hey, could you—” you start.

           “Hey, do you—” Dean says at the exact same time. You both chuckle, and you can’t tell if you’re annoyed or not that the little charge in the room didn’t dissolve while the dried blood on you had rinsed down the shower drain. Dean holds up an open palm to indicate that you should go first.

           “Could you cover those stitches for me? The skin is kind of catching on my shirt.”

           “Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

           Shaking your hair loose and hanging the towel it was in on the back of a kitchenette chair, you sit on the edge of the bed to tug the collar of your t-shirt as far onto your shoulder as you can. Dean snatches some medical tape and a couple 4x4s from the table and sits down next to you, the heat coming off of him soothing the chill of the few remaining drops of water cooling on your skin. “I’m gonna need more slack than that,” he says, trying to be matter-of-fact but not quite covering the gooey softness around the edges that are making his voice more sultry than gruff. You try to pull harder on the collar but it’s already digging into your neck. The hand holding the gauze floats down to Dean’s lap while he rubs his jaw with the other. “Do you—could you just take it off?”

           You roll your eyes at him.

           “Or live with it, see if I care.” He holds your gaze, and that stubbornness you recognize.

           Reluctantly, you move your arm inside the shirt and slip it out from under the bottom hem, squirming in a way that covers your chest while exposing your shoulder. When he sweeps the shirt back you reflexively jolt away from him like you’ve been shocked. “Not being fresh, just don’t want to tape it in,” he murmurs.

           “I noticed you put the lines together really straight; thanks for that.”

           “Only took an extra second.” He rips another piece of tape off a roll with his teeth and is being so deliberate that now you’re sure he’s stalling for another few seconds to keep touching you but you don’t care; the feeling of his fingertips on your skin is tender and delicious.

           “If I knew you were going to be that careful, I would’ve been letting you do my stitches this whole time.”

           “Guess I’m just a regular damn seamstress,” he smiles, finally smoothing the last tape and only surreptitiously glancing out of the corner of his eye as you tuck your arm back into its sleeve. “So seriously, what’re the other tattoos?”

           “I’m sure you’ll see them soon enough,” you whisper as you stand up, committing to memory the way it makes Dean’s pupils flare as you ease under the scratchy motel sheets on the opposite bed.

-

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[lifenodaijobu]

Just a little list of my soft Draco obsession

For  @vemodalensx

Theres a few here but I’ve left some out since the list was getting a bit long. I might make another list with more.

The list separated between cute Draco and vulnerable Draco just so you can choose whether or not you want a bit of sadness with your softness ^3^

Oh and ofc it goes without saying that the whole list is Bottom Draco hehe

Cute Soft Draco

Flower Crowns (2.4k words)

It started with a single flower 🥀 Draco makes flower crowns for Harry and that is how the whole school finds out about them. A happy dose of Harry with flowers in his hair, and a smitten Draco.

Dreaming of you (21k words)

Harry has nightmares, he wishes for a night when he can sleep without nightmares. What happens when he starts dreaming of Draco Malfoy? Draco left the wizarding world after the war, he's a librarian and lives peacefully in muggle London, what happens when Harry fucking Potter shows up at his work place?

Honey (

Harry is sick of Draco's oh-so-adorable endearments.

The Care and Management of Volatile Veelas 

Harry adopts a Veela. He really didn’t mean to.

Quidditch Wife (Part 2)

Theres no real summary for this except for  It's got all my favourite guilty pleasures, like protective!Harry and vulnerable!Draco, with a side of jealous!Harry and SportyQuidditch!Harry (and I think the top!Harry rather goes without saying).

All our pieces....fall right into places series

The first story:  Draco had had a crush for a while and now that he had Harry in his bed...He was everything that Draco needed.

Trick or Treat

Harry had no idea that he was such a fetishist - a fact which he discovers on Halloween.

Pretty

Harry finds a pair of stockings in the back of their dresser.

The Sweater

After being forced to room together in 8th year, Draco and Harry become friends and decide to continue their living arrangements post Hogwarts. The only problem is, Draco can't seem to stop stealing Harry's clothes.

1095 Roses for a life time

Being woken up by the lips of your boyfriend is always a nice surprise, especially on the morning of yours third anniversary of dating, which leads to hot and passionate morning activity. But all this is just to indulge in themselves, Harry's surprise includes roses and a promise for a lifetime. Will they be the right choice?

Get your kinks out

Harry plays seeker for the Magpies, and he discovers that one of his teammates secretly wears lace panties. What begins as a sexual relationship becomes increasingly complicated by Harry’s fame, Draco’s family, and Harry’s ambivalent feelings about dominating Draco.

Can’t say no

Draco really has the worst friends. When they put a spell on him that he has to say no to everything Harry says.....things don't turn out well.

OR

That time when Harry proposes and gets turned down because of his horrible friends.

What Draco wants

Out of anything a petty fight with Harry Potter could have led to, Draco Malfoy least expected it to end with him bent over a table, questioning his relationship and feelings for Potter, and having the best sex of his life.

Criminal

Things were going just fine for Draco Malfoy. He successfully conned and counted cards across Europe and America, amassing a small fortune, along with a lengthy rap sheet. That was until he made the grave mistake of returning to England for a high stakes card game and got himself caught – by Harry Potter no less. Now, Draco is stuck in England under Auror Potter’s guard with no friends, no distractions, and no escape. How the hell will he pass the time? And since when did Potter get so bloody fit? 

Things Change

Harry and Draco's friends notice something different about them when they fight. See what they find out when they walk down an empty hallway. 

Whats a little veritasium between two sworn enemies?

Draco Malfoy has a nasty habit of always coming across such bad luck no matter where circumstance presents itself and unfortunately that doesn't seem to change when his bloody nemesis Harry Potter over hears him talking about Veritaserum potions in the hallways past curfew. ( It was Pansy fault really)

Harry wants to know what the Slytherin boy is up to, especially with how nervous Malfoy is, but is that ALL Harry wants to know?

Mr Right Now - side note: Cedric/Draco

What do you do when you're feeling down about your ex? Make him jealous! Story features Cedric Diggory and Draco Malfoy trying to win back their loves, but somehow end up falling into each other's arms

For the love a kitten 

With Voldemort Dead, life is not easy for Harry as Old friends become enemies and old enemies become friend. With the return of three Slytherins, Harry life is turned upside down.

How to prepare for a wedding night

I have a neighbour. He is stuck in a loveless relationship and an arranged marriage. He has zero experience in bed. He needs my help so that his love life won't suck for the next few decades. He needs a sex teacher. Oh... and the neighbour happens to be Draco freaking Malfoy. And I might be a little tiny bit in love with the git...

Draco's Scent

In which Harry can't be around Draco for long without the boy's stupid smell messing with his mind, and he really, really hates that.

Turn The Heat Up

Wonky Cooling Charms result in interesting revelations

Flirt

Draco and Hermione make a devastating duo at the Ministry as the respective Department Heads of Wizarding Culture Preservation and Muggle Relations. When Harry Potter gets involved in their latest joint project, Draco can’t seem to stop himself from constantly flirting with him even when it doesn’t seem to affect the golden boy at all. He’s wrong. Harry is most definitely affected. Includes Slytherin shenanigans, Draco sucking at quidditch, and Harry trying not to be charmed. Draco POV.

Angsty/Vulnerable Soft Draco

The Draco Malfoy incident - side note: I cried big time

Draco Malfoy is best friends with a Hufflepuff. A HUFFLEPUFF! He's also partnered with a redhead git, trying to hide from an obsessive green-eyed saviour and has become overly fond with sunrises. It's exhausting. Can't a man plan an assassination in peace around here?

I’m not in your dreams

Draco has dreamt with Harry's voice since he was fourteen, so there's no doubt for him about who his soulmate is. Now, in their Eighth Year, Harry has finally dreamt with his soulmate's voice too. The problem is that Draco was born mute.

Yours for the taking

Draco was raised to be the perfect Omega, but there are things even he cannot endure. When he discovers just what Tom Riddle's plans for him are once he's claimed him he is confronted with an impossible decision. Only one thing remains clear: he will never be able to go back home.

Luckily, Harry Potter is there to save the day

Rough on you - side note: Dark Harry. This is more vulnerable Draco than soft Draco so please read the tags before you start the story :) I was unsure whether I wanted to add this here but hey-ho

"I'm the only one that can give you want you really want." Harry spun Draco around and held his arms at his side and he pressed against his back, whispering against his throat. "That can force you, that can humiliate you… that can hurt you, and you want it. You want me."

Harry is having a bad day. Draco just cannot learn to keep his mouth shut. Neither of them would have predicted it would lead to this.

But who guards the dragon?

This is an expansion of my one-shot, It'll be Okay. You don't have to read it first, it will be in the story. Requested. DMHP Sub/Dom relationship. Slash. Don't like, don't read. Harry thinks a few thinks through, then comes into his creature inheritance. He finds out that he is the dominant mate to one Draco Malfoy. But things are never easy for the boy who lived

Taken For Granted

Having pined for Harry for long enough, Draco decided that it was time to give up and move on. What happens when Harry realizes too late what he's lost?

Mourning

Harry returns to school to complete his NEWTs. There he finds a much changed Draco Malfoy and surprisingly subdued Professor Snape.

In your arms, rests my world

Harry presses his mouth to Malfoy's forehead; he wants to tell him that he’ll never leave, that he wouldn’t dream of it.

“You make me feel safe, Potter” Malfoy whispers. “You keep me safe.”

Inside your mind

Goyle's taken it upon himself to act as Malfoy's personal, one-man guard and Harry can't help but feel like it's only making the bullying worse.

"I'll Protect You," and you can seal that with an Unbreakable Vow

His friends may tease but Harry doesn't feel bad for keeping a close eye on the Slytherin boy of one Draco Malfoy, after all someone has to do it. So when Harry secretly follows the pure-blood boy out past the courtyard, there's nothing strange or unusual about it; nor is it wrong.

Unfortunately the same can not be said for the scenario Harry accidentally stumbles upon as he can't help but stare in horror. It's not just wrong. It's absolutely despicable and Harry, well, Harry just has to do something about it.

A Big Black Sky

Draco shifts his head as he turns to look at Scorpius, his cheek touching the pillow. "Did you know that…" He pauses, his throat convulsing, and it sounds audible in the silence, besides Michael's steady, even breathing from the other bedroom.

Scorpius is staring back at him, in wait of something new to learn, a beautiful and intelligent child. He has Draco's mind. He has Draco's eyes and nose and mouth and hair. He is his. All his. All he has of Michael are his wild curls and the green of his eyes, and sometimes he looks into them and imagines that they aren't Michael's, but someone else's.

Draco leans his head closer, biting the quiver out of his lips before he breathes a laden and shuddering exhale, and he whispers, "You are my star in a big black sky."

Song To Say Goodbye

Draco should have remembered that life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to. Somewhere along the way he forgot to always be careful and was left with nothing. It was hard enough getting himself together the first time, can he do it again?

Small spoiler for Song to Say Goodbye below

Its not Drarry Endgame: he ends up with a OMC cuz Harrys a big dickhead

[fullmetalscullyy]

For the sharing a bed ask bc I can't remember for the life of me if I've sent one to you yet 🙈 'they took turns sharing it while the other was on watch' or however exactly that one was worded ❤️❤️

aaa tysm for the prompt! i loved it and i hope you enjoy! continuing with the no plot just vibes agenda~

send me a prompt

rated: g | words: 3679 | tags: royai, there was only one bed, shelter from the storm, snowstorm, tending to wounds, comfort, fluff

read on ao3

Exhaustion followed both occupants of the crumbling bothy like a shadow. It clung to them, slowing their movements, as if it was physically attached to their ankles like two weights. Booted feet were dragged across the polished, undulating stones underfoot, worn down after years of use, and finally came to stop in the centre of the main room.

Years of use didn’t warrant years of upkeep apparently, Riza thought, as she did a sweep of the building. It was not in the best condition however it was still standing, and it was shelter from the storm outside. That was all Riza was currently concerned with.

There were only two rooms, plus a bathroom with a functioning sink and toilet – surprisingly enough. The pipes grunted and groaned, screaming in protest at being used, but it worked and was clean. A worn plaque above the sink indicated the water was drinkable as well, which was the best news she’d heard all day. A small blessing in this wretched situation they’d found themselves in.

To counteract that thought, at that exact moment, a howling gust of wind rattled the door thoroughly and whistled through the cracked class of the windows to its left and right. The Colonel whipped around to stare, partly in fright and partly because he was on edge. They both were. The sudden scream that sounded as the wind tried to force its way inside through the glass made Riza jump as well.

They shared a look and the Colonel’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“So much for the famed northern hospitality,” he muttered. His words held a bite to them, however Riza was unsure whether it was directed at the situation itself or at anyone in particular.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault they’d found themselves in this situation, however it was not ideal, nor was it pleasant. The first point on their ‘bad things that have happened today’ list (at this point, they were up to around number six) was a snowstorm had rendered their transport from the station in North City to the town they were supposed to be visiting useless. The truck owner boasted it was an all-terrain, all-weather vehicle, that he was handpicked by the military for transport because of his “beauty’s” prowess. He quickly stopped bragging though and started muttering angrily at his prized possession, kicking the tyre in fury as it sat pitifully in a snowy ditch, unable to escape the confines of it. It was safe to say his “beauty” fell short of the mark for the two soldiers. No amount of pushing from the three of them would shift it. However, they had deadlines to meet, so were forced to say their goodbyes and go ahead on foot.

There was no way they’d make it in time but at least they could honestly say they had tried when questioned.

It was by a stroke of luck they’d stumbled upon a walker’s bothy. Night was creeping in quickly, especially with the ongoing snowstorm. The world was turning greyer by the second and when Riza spotted it, she made a beeline straight for the shelter. The wind was too loud to talk over, but the Colonel saw her beckoning gesture and nodded, following behind her without question, already trusting her judgement and thought process.

The main room housed a single wooden bedframe with no mattress. There was another spot where another bed frame should be, but only half it remained. It had been broken in half. Whether that had been from an accident, an act of vandalism, or due to the passage of time, Riza wasn’t sure. Not that it would be of any use to them split in half, but simple curiosity had the Colonel searching the rest of the small building for the other half. There was a large stone fireplace that was bereft of any wood, they noticed with dismay, however after venturing through to the second room on the left, there was a massive pile of it within. It was a supply for the winter months for anyone who needed it, so the piece of paper tacked to an old corkboard on the wall said. There were two chairs placed around the fire and some cast iron cooking utensils stacked in a neat pile upon the hearth, lifting their spirits slightly. They had rations from the truck driver that would not require their use, but the sight of them was still a positive.

“I think we’ll be safe enough to sleep here tonight,” she announced, ignoring the Colonel’s petulant comment.

“Lieutenant,” he called quietly to her, catching her attention. When she turned her head, he gestured to one of the chairs. “You should rest.” He glanced down at her feet, and Riza knew exactly what he was thinking.

She’d stumbled and twisted her ankle while they walked. The pain had eased completely the more she’d walked, so Riza assumed it would be fine. Now they’d stopped, it was throbbing in time with her pulse. It appeared to be worse than she’d thought.

Just what they needed.

She sighed and mentally added that as number seven to their list.

Sitting on one of the chairs, Riza sighed quietly in relief as it lessened the pressure on her injured joint. The Colonel followed suit and he too sounded extremely relieved to finally sit down.

“What a day,” he muttered, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

Riza hummed in agreement, causing him to reopen his eyes and glance tiredly over at her. She shifted in place, feeling a shiver travel down her spine.

Without a word, the Colonel stood and ventured into the other room. He came back with arms full of firewood and started the process of arranging them within the fireplace. After a single snap the fire roared to life, filling the room with a soft orange glow and warmth. A few minutes later the invading bite of the winter chill was beginning to alleviate and Riza could feel her muscles relaxing.

“Do you think there will be anything outside waiting for us?”

His question was so sudden as he stared into the fire that it took Riza a moment to process it.

“Pardon?”

The Colonel blinked and tore his eyes away from the dancing flames. He repeated his question as he turned to look at her, expression serious.

“Like what?”

“What about bears?” He looked genuinely concerned.

Riza blinked at him. “Probably. I think so, yes.” She faintly recalled hearing stories about the size and might of the bears in the north but elected not to bring it up. She didn’t think that would have been beneficial or productive in that moment, especially not after recognising a faint glint of fear that was discernible in the Colonel’s eyes.

“Do you think we should be concerned?”

Riza glanced over her shoulder at the door as it rattled on its hinges. “I don’t think so. We’ll be safe in here.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Do you know any bears that can open doors?” Both her brows lifted as she regarded him.

“I know a bear could open that door,” he scoffed, jerking his head towards it. “It’s hardly a strong line of defence.”

That was true. One more gust of wind might snap it off one of the hinges. The top one rattled playfully to emphasise his point.

“I think we’ll be okay, sir,” Riza replied smoothly, trying to keep her amusement out of her tone.

The Colonel scowled at her anyway. Apparently she hadn’t been entirely successful.

Riza chuckled upon seeing his expression. “City boy,” she muttered to herself, her tone light and playful.

“I would say it was a legitimate concern,” he replied haughtily.

“You also thought there were bears in the woods outside my father’s house.”

“I think my point still stands.”

“Bears do not exist in every wooded area and forest, Roy.” She rolled her eyes at him in amused exasperation, momentarily forgetting herself.

It was so easy talking to him like this. The two of them were alone together and stuck in a predicament that neither could have ever predicted or conjured up, yet here they were. It was surreal, but it was nice. Despite everything that had happened today she was still relatively happy. She was grateful to be with him. Ideally, she’d have neither of them stranded in a snowstorm, however she was glad he was here. If there was anyone she’d want to be stranded with, it would be him.

After she’d realised her minor slip up, Riza paused and glanced over at him, noting his soft expression and smile. It was so genuine and happy that she didn’t cringe or apologise. She didn’t feel the need to.

“We sound like we did when we were children,” he replied.

Riza felt her own nostalgic smile spread across her face. “We do.”

“I’ll take first watch,” he offered.

Riza opened her mouth to protest but he’d already shoved a threadbare blanket he’d found towards her. Riza didn’t particularly want to use it – she had no way of knowing how clean it was – however the building was not heated in the slightest, aside from the fire. It was built for hikers who were well prepared with sleeping bags, which they were not. For survival, Riza had to accept any kind of warmth she could get.

“You need to rest that ankle,” he added.

She nodded and took the blanket from him. Riza settled herself on the hard, wooden bedframe so she was facing into the room. It was warmer than facing the cold stone of the wall beside the bed.

“Colonel?”

He glanced over at her expectantly.

“Watch out for those bears.”

* * * * * * * *

The wind had died down throughout the night at least. Roy had been partly joking when he brought up the bears that may be lurking outside for them, however now that he’d put the idea inside his own head, he couldn’t help but take an extra glance every now and then out the window.

Just in case.

It was worth bringing it up to hear the Lieutenant’s laugh. To hear her accidentally call him by his first name. It had been so worth it.

To whittle away the time his mind tried its best to summon a plan of attack against any bear that did appear, going over how he would react and how he would fend one off, but Roy had come to only one conclusion after about half an hour of plotting. It was folly. There was absolutely no way he’d be able to take on a bear. His eyes narrowed at the rickety old door and took solace in the fact the doorway looked too small for a bear to fit through. They were safe from them so long as they stayed inside, and that was good enough for him.

Now the bear appearance dilemma, likely or not, had been put to bed, Roy’s thoughts turned towards the Lieutenant. He glanced down at her ankle as she lay sound asleep, remembering how she’d stumbled and fallen in a snowdrift. Insisting she was fine, they’d pressed on. They didn’t have much choice in the matter anyway, but he was still concerned. He had a strong inkling she was suffering for it as they travelled. A sprained ankle under normal conditions would ease with rest, but that was not a luxury they’d been afforded as they traversed the snowy landscape to safety. Snowdrifts up to their knees were common and Roy had felt dead on his feet when they finally came to a stop inside this shelter.

That was one blessing of the day, at least. He’d simply laughed at their luck, shaking his head, now they were safe beneath shelter, dry, and out of the storm.

But if he’d felt tired down to his bones, then he couldn’t imagine how the Lieutenant must have felt upon their arrival.

Steadying his resolve, Roy determined there was no imminent danger. No bears coming through the night to get them. Now the storm had eased, looking through the shards of the window, Roy could see the gorgeous landscape splayed before him, illuminated by the moonlight, and enhanced by the heavy snow. It looked a lot more inviting than it had a few hours ago.

He wouldn’t, but he was tempted to wake up the Lieutenant to show her how beautiful it looked.

Roy smiled to himself, the thought dredging up an old memory from their past. He faintly recalled doing something similar when he’d experienced his first winter at the Hawkeye house. He’d ran to her room without a thought, excited and eager to show her how the dark forest outside had transformed into a silvery white and green wonderland.

It had been something he’d been desperate to share with her.

“Colonel?”

A tired voice called to him, and Roy immediately lost his interest in the world outside. He turned, seeing the Lieutenant blink tiredly at him.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted, an air of concern about him. He hadn’t expected her to wake so soon, and if she did, he knew she’d want to take over watch duties.

She shot him a small smile, placating his nerves somewhat. Pushing herself up into a seated position, the Lieutenant stretched her arms over her head.

“How’s the ankle?”

She grimaced, but only slightly. “Better now that I’ve taken my weight off it.”

That didn’t answer his question entirely. “Is there any pain?”

She was silent as she looked down at her legs. “It does throb every now and again. That’s what woke me up.”

Roy nodded, dismayed to hear she was in pain. If he could take it away, he would, but they didn’t have painkillers in their first aid kits. The only thing that would help was a support, which the Lieutenant had already put on after gently easing her boot off. She didn’t react to the angry red hue of her skin, but Roy felt his stomach tense. It hadn’t looked good. The compression support had been slipped on slowly, but Roy saw the way her eye twitched twice and how her jaw clenched while obviously trying to conceal any kind of pain.

“Why don’t you try and get a few hours sleep,” the Lieutenant offered. “I think I’ll be up for a while now.” She swung her legs around and to the floor, visibly wincing when her sore ankle contacted the floor. Another appeared when she tried to stand, but Roy quickly scrambled towards her.

“Please, stay seated,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle.”

The Lieutenant shot him a strained smile. “That doesn’t bode well for us for tomorrow,” she quipped.

Roy opened his mouth to reply, but she was right. Still, hewas right. She shouldn’t be walking on that ankle.

“Regardless,” he admonished, placing his hands on her shoulders as a gentle restraint to keep her in place. “All the more reason to remain seated and keep resting it then, right?” Triumph flashed through him, and he smirked when the Lieutenant’s lips pursed, because she knew he was right.

“You can’t sleep on the floor, though,” she warned.

His shoulders fell in defeat, glancing down at the bed. His mind rejoiced with the idea that sprung into it, however it was so far out the realm of what was appropriate that it was completely out of the question.

Roy retracted his hands as the Lieutenant placed both hands by her sides and effortlessly slid herself backwards, so her back came to rest upon the stone wall behind her. She made herself comfortable and looked at him expectantly, patting the space beside her to indicate he should join her and sit.

Even if it wasn’t appropriate to share a bed with his Lieutenant, Roy only needed to take one look around them both and remember where they were. This day was already bizarre enough. What was one more occurrence to add to that list?

He wouldn’t particularly class it as sharing a bed with her either. They would both be sitting upright, looking out at the room, with considerable distance in place between them.

“We can take turns with the blanket,” she smirked as she handed it over.

Roy snorted lightly and gratefully received her offering. The room was warm enough with the fire but the stone behind his back still stubbornly clung to the icy temperatures from outside, refusing to accept the warmth they’d provided the room. Wrapping it around his shoulders, Roy settled back in place and made himself comfortable.

He woke with a start a few hours later. His head jerked upright and swung left and right, unseeing as he still tried to shake the vision from his dreams.

“Colonel? Colonel!”

He paused for a second, recognising the voice. It was from someone he thought he’d lost in his dream.

“Roy,” the Lieutenant called to him.

It was enough to surprise him, that it brought him back to the present. Glancing to his right, he saw his Lieutenant still seated next to him, eyes wide and concerned.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes were searching his, moving back and forth frantically as she scanned his face with worry.

“Yes,” he breathed, trying to get a hold of his racing heart to slow it down. He was all right. She was all right. They were safe. He gulped down air, trying to get enough into his lungs and take away the fear that had both restricted them and wrapped tightly around his heart. “Just… A bad dream.”

The Lieutenant nodded in understanding and patted his forearm. That was when Roy realised she didn’t remove it, and that it had been there the entire time.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Roy shook his head. “It’s okay,” he breathed. “Thank you, though,” he quickly added. “It was just… the usual,” he offered. The usual nowadays was him losing someone dear to him. The Promised Day had not been kind on his mind. To this day he still suffered, and he didn’t particularly want to relive it after it was so fresh. His reply was code enough that the Lieutenant knew exactly what he was referring to. They’d already been open about what their ‘usual’ nightmares consisted of nowadays.

As suspected, realisation dawned upon her features, and she nodded in sympathy.

“I… I need some time before I can sleep again,” he admitted. There was no shame in his voice though, not with her. Never with her. They were both very well acquainted with the reasons the other struggled to sleep. “You should try for a while.”

“Okay,” she acquiesced. She gave his forearm a squeeze and again, she didn’t remove it. “Wake me if you need anything, all right?” She waited for him to verbally agree with her. Only once he did, did the Lieutenant’s eyes close.

Watching her do so caused Roy’s brow to furrow slightly in confusion.

She must have moved closer to him as he slept, because where there had been about two feet of distance between them before, there was now mere centimetres. Just enough distance for the Lieutenant’s head to loll and fall against his shoulder comfortably as she slept.

He’d been startled awake, so Roy hadn’t realised he’d initiated it. In sleep, his head had bowed and rolled to the side, seeking out her presence. After shifting closer, the Lieutenant had eased him from his uncomfortable position and lifted his head to lie upon her shoulder.

Now recovered from the turmoil of his dream, Roy smiled down at her and relished in the comfort her presence brought him. The weight of her head against him eased his mind and slowed his racing pulse. He could breathe easier with her lying against him. A peace washed over his body, relaxing his taught muscles, and soothing his very soul.

Despite their predicament, he was glad she was here with him.

The grip she had on his forearm loosened, so Roy snaked his hand over to it, hooking their fingers together and holding on tightly. The Lieutenant stirred next to him, disturbed from sleep.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “it’s okay. It’s just me.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze.

There was a brief pause with no reply, then the Lieutenant’s grip on him tightened and remained.

“Okay,” she exhaled peacefully. She moved next to him, shuffling closer, which Roy was more than happy to indulge in.

As she was lulled back to sleep, her grip on his hand slackened but Roy never let her go. He anchored himself to her.

They’d get through this and get home. Not that she’d allow it of course, but Roy would carry her through the snow with that ankle if need be to ensure their safety. It had been the day from hell professionally, however ending it with the two of them curled together on that uncomfortable bed, gripping onto one another, was not bad in the slightest. Roy thought that was the closest to heaven he was ever going to get.

* * * * * * * *

Their luck must have finally been turning for the better, as that morning a group of hikers entered the bothy loudly, laughing and joking with one another, while Roy helped the Lieutenant strap up her ankle. They were offered food and directions to the nearest town, which was only two miles away. The group set off with them, insistent on offering their help and support, and even assisted the Lieutenant with some painkillers as well.

After the day of travel they’d had before, it brightened up both soldier’s moods somewhat as they set off again through the snowy northern landscape with their new company.

Thankfully, they didn’t come across any bears.

They made it to the town in one peace and called North City Headquarters for assistance. And also requested back up for that assistance.

Just in case.

[quickspinner]

Month of Miracles Day 7 - Togetherness

Find the prompt list here!

Rambly domestic fluff today. For backstory on Bach the deaf dog you can read Puppy Eyes and Puppy Love, but it’s not really necessary to understand this one.

Luka shut the door and leaned back against it, blowing out a sigh. “Well,” he commented, turning his head to look at his wife. “That was a lot.”

“It sure was,” Marinette groaned, letting go of Bach’s collar. He didn’t usually dart out the door, but she hadn’t wanted to take chances of him getting confused or caught up in the exodus and getting away. “Between your mother and my father, my ears are going to be ringing for days.” She patted Bach. “You’re the lucky one today if you ask me,” she told the dog.

“It was nice to have everybody together,” Luka tried, rubbing the back of his neck, and then winced. “For the first hour or so, anyway.” 

“No, you’re right, it was nice,” Marinette sighed, flopping down on the couch. Bach leapt up beside her immediately and squirmed over onto his back, his fluffy white coat sticking out in all directions. Marinette absently rubbed his belly. “And they did all the cleaning before they left, so that really helped. Even if they kind of put everything in the wrong place.” 

Luka pushed himself up off of the door and followed her, nudging (well, shoving really, because the big dog was hard to nudge) Bach out of the way so he could thump down beside her. Bach hopped down obligingly, and then shoved his head in Luka’s lap. Luka scratched Bach’s ears. “Do you think there’s such a thing as too much togetherness?” he asked wryly. 

“Definitely.” Marinette dropped her head on his shoulder. “I don’t even think it was so much that we spent too much time together, it’s that we were trying to be together with so many people. It’s not quite the same as when you get to spend time with a few people, you know? I...I don’t know, I wouldn’t have wanted to leave anyone out, but at the same time, I feel like we get more out of just having a regular dinner with your family or mine, rather than trying to cram everyone in at once. Is that weird?”

“Nah,” Luka sighed. “I’ve always found the big family gatherings exhausting, to be honest. Too much to deal with, and you never get to finish a conversation with anyone because someone just has to say something to them. If you’re weird for thinking it, I guess I’m weird too.” He grinned. “But your grandma and my mom in the same room are something else, aren’t they?”

“They got on like a house on fire,” Marinette giggled. “I’m just glad they didn’t set our house on fire.” 

“Mmm.” Luka reached for her, and Marinette gladly slid closer, snuggling up against him as he slipped his arms around her waist. Marinette took his place petting Bach. “Still, for the first Couffaine-Dupain-Cheng joint holiday, it went pretty well.” 

“It did,” Marinette admitted. “It was a lot of work, but then Maman and Papa brought so many things with them, and that soup Juleka made was fantastic, that it wasn’t so bad as it could have been.”

“You didn’t have to insist on making the cake yourself,” Luka said, pinching her side. “You know Tom would have been happy to make it.” 

“I wanted to,” Marinette pouted, slapping his chest lightly in retaliation. 

“Just wait until next year,” Luka chuckled, resting his head against the back of the couch. “It’ll get even more crazy when we have to add the Lavilants in.”

“What?” Marinette shot upright, but Luka only opened one eye and grinned lazily at her. “Luka! What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything,” Luka hedged, the grin growing a little. “Let’s just say I have suspicions.” 

“You better not be keeping secrets from me,” Marinette warned, eyes narrowing. 

“If I did,” Luka smiled, closing his eyes again. “It would be for Juleka. But I’m not, because I don’t know. But Jules kept staring at our rings, and she was practically turning green on the spot. And she disappeared for like an hour, and if she wasn’t on the phone the whole time I’ll eat my guitar. I just...think it won’t be long, that’s all.” 

“Hmm.” Marinette considered that, and then sighed and burrowed closer into his side, tucking her arms between them for warmth. It had been warm in the house all day with all the people and the heat from cooking, but without the crowd, she felt a little chilled. “We’re going to need another folding table,” she murmured drowsily. 

Luka laughed. “You really want to host again next year after all that?” 

“Well, they won’t be settled long enough to do it,” Marinette pointed out. “And it was nice, even if it was a lot. If nothing else, it was good to have our families interacting together and getting to know each other a little better. They’re all so friendly, I don’t think it was too awkward.” She made a face. “Besides, then they can be the ones everybody’s cooing over about how newlywed they act.”

“Mm, we’ll see,” Luka said, still smiling, and stroked her hair. “Who knows, we might have our own complications by then.” 

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him. “We said two years minimum, Luka.” 

“I know,” Luka shrugged. “There’s other complications that could come up. Or, you know, things happen, or we might change our minds, or who knows what else... I’m just saying, no need to start planning now, right?” He kissed the top of her head. “Can’t we just enjoy being done for one night before you start figuring out the next one?”

“Fiiiine,” Marinette sighed, but she was smiling, warm and comfortable now that she was tucked against him, with Bach sitting on her feet. 

“We should go to bed,” Luka suggested drowsily, and Marinette hummed agreement, but neither one of them moved.

“This is good enough,” Marinette mumbled after a moment.

“You’re not gonna think so in the morning,” Luka grumbled back, but she was already going slack against him. He’d get her up in a minute, he thought. Just...one more minute. 

Luka’s mouth had just fallen open in the beginning of a snore when a loud jangle made them both jump awake and twist toward the door. There was Bach, pawing the strip of bells hanging from the doorknob to tell them he needed to go out. The deaf dog had no idea how loud the bells were or what a scare he’d just given his adoptive parents. He just knew that if he pawed at them someone would come let him out. He gave a doggy grin and wagged, dancing in place slightly as he saw they were looking at him. 

Marinette and Luka exchanged a look, and then each freed a hand to curl into a fist. Luka groaned when Marinette’s rock crushed his scissors and pushed himself up off the couch.

“You sure you don’t want to come with?” he asked as he picked up the leash, and Bach’s excited wiggle went into overdrive. “Take a nice late night walk together?”

“No thanks,” Marinette laughed. “I think I’ve had enough togetherness today. You two have fun.” She grinned as she wiggled her fingers in a smug little wave. “I’ll get the bed warm for you.��

Luka sighed as he pulled on his coat and opened the door. “I’m so putting my cold feet on you when I get home,” he grumbled.  

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

[7-wonders]

Down the Rabbit Hole

Summary: You make a decision about your stay at the enchanted manor, but at what cost?

Other works in the Beauty and the Beast!Duncan Shepherd AU: Wilted Roses Smell Just as Sweet | This Place of Wrath and Tears | A Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing Your Prisoner | This Cruel Trick of Fate

Mallory sneaks you food an hour or so after the Beast’s rage left you in tears. Incredibly grateful for the meal (”sorry it’s just bread and soup,” Mallory had said, “I’ll try and get you more later.”), the rage that’s been slowly building in you since the encounter spills over while you’re eating.

“Do you have any particular attachment to him?” you ask, receiving nothing but a snort in response. “Okay, good. What the fuck is wrong with him? Like, what gives him the right to act like that?”

Although you can’t see Mallory, you just know that she agrees with you as she attempts to form an answer. “I know that wasn’t the best first impression of him, but-”

“‘But’ what? Because it certainly doesn’t seem like there’s any redeeming qualities to him.”

Mallory sighs, trying very hard to not agree with you. “I promise he’s not always like that. Once you’ve both had the chance to calm down, you’ll see that he’s...”

“What, even more of a jackass than he already is?” Scoffing, you move off of the bed to stare forlornly out the window at the rain falling outside.

“I know he didn’t do anything to help his case, but when you get to know him, he really is a nice person.”

You whirl around to face Mallory’s voice, an idea forming in the meantime. “I don’t want to get to know him! I don’t even want to be here! I want to finish this stupid sentence, go home, and forget all about this nightmare.”

“I know you don’t, and I’m so sorry that you are. But it’s only a couple of months, alright? Trust me when I say that the time will go by in the blink of an eye.”

A flush of shame comes over you as you remember that, no matter how terrible this situation is for you, Mallory’s been dealing with the same one for much longer. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s alright, I know today has been stressful for you.” The weight of a hand comes down on your shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. You really wish you could see Mallory right now. “I’ll leave you alone to decompress, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. It’s still trippy to watch the tray of food look as though it’s floating through the air, and you can’t see yourself ever getting used to that. Once the door closes and you have a moment to yourself, your earlier train of thought returns. You don’t have to get used to it. 

The room which has been designated as yours is only on the second floor, and it doesn’t look to be that high up from the ground. With the multitude of blankets on the bed that is supposed to be yours, you can very easily make a rope to reach the bottom. Mallory may have said that everybody was trapped here, but that surely just applies to the house and everybody who’s now invisible. After all, Jim was thrown out with no problems. If you can just escape the manor, then you can find your way back to the main road and be home free. It’s a simple plan, but you need to act now before someone comes to check on you again. 

Ripping the blankets onto the floor, you hastily begin to knot the ends together until they start to form a makeshift rope. Thankfully, the closet in the corner is more than stocked for when you run out of your original material, and it becomes long enough to make it across the room and out the window. You use the bedpost as an anchor, wrapping one end of the rope around the wood and tying it together before giving it a couple of good yanks to make sure it can support your weight. Once you’re sure that you won’t fall and break something due to the rope breaking (you can’t be sure that you won’t fall, but at least it won’t be from the rope), you lead it to hang out of the window.

The rain pelts your skin like a bunch of small, icy knives the moment you lean out of the window to check the height. Pulling your hood up over your head, you give one last glance at the room that very well could have been your prison, were you not so determined. “Adios, motherfucker,” you mutter before hiking a leg up over the windowsill and beginning to climb down the side of the wall.

You were right; it wasn’t that far of a climb to get to the bottom. When your feet hit the ground, you immediately begin to move, no time to stop and wax poetic about your current situation. The shadows provide cover for you as you stick close to the wall, body on high alert for any potential obstacles. You break into a run upon reaching the front of the manor, the lights at your back becoming fainter as you get further from the prison.

Unfortunately, what seemed like an easy plan becomes more complicated by the second. What was a mildly irritating rain at first becomes a torrential downpour, soaking through your clothes and making it impossible to see more than a couple of feet in front of you. If you had thought you were cold when you were hiking to find Jim, you must not have known true cold. You’re freezing, and even shoving your hands in your pockets doesn’t help to stave off what is bound to become frostbite. Somehow, even impending hypothermia isn’t the worst of your problems.

You can’t reach the edge of the property. The closer you get, the farther away the bridge you had crossed less than a day before seems to become. No matter how fast you run, or which way you try to approach the edge, you can’t get there. An hour must pass before your willpower finally runs out, falling to your knees in a mixture of exhaustion and defeat. You try to haul yourself back to your feet, but can only manage to roll onto your back. Your teeth are chattering hard enough that you almost worry you’ll crack a tooth, but you can’t seem to find the energy to care.

A break in the clouds allows you to see up at the night sky. The moon is a crescent, but it’s huge, sitting above you like a beacon for wayward sailors and animals migrating. Dully, you realize that this is the same moon that Jim’s seeing. Wherever he is, he’s safe; your sacrifice won’t be in vain. Nothing, not even death, can separate you from your best friend. It’s a comforting thought, and your blue-tinged lips turn up into a smile.

Of course, you aren’t even allowed to go gentle into that good night. A large hand that’s more of a paw than a hand digs into the fabric of your jacket, hauling you up and over a shoulder. Although your eyelashes are frozen, you can still see that there’s an actual figure carrying you. A pair of fierce blue eyes look up when they sense you looking down at him.

“Shit,” you mutter through teeth that are still chattering.

“Yeah, ‘shit.’“ Although his voice is still deep and growly, it lacks the immense anger it had previously held.

“I--”

“Just shut up until I can get you warmed up again.” You heed his words, choosing instead to try and soak up as much of his body heat as you can. He’s like a furnace, and you would actually be enjoying this were you not on the verge of freezing to death.

You’re back in the manor in the blink of an eye, or at least far faster than when you were trying to escape. The Beast brings you into a large sitting room, setting you on a couch that’s already piled with blankets. Ignoring you, he goes to work at starting a fire in the fireplace, giving you time to look him over in the light for the first time.

He’s smaller than you had originally thought, his voice making him appear eight feet tall. In reality, he’s probably around six feet tall. His unkempt brown hair, in desperate need of a cut, looks more like fur now. A pair of shiny black horns jut out from the top of his head, and you can see the claws on his hands as he strikes a match. Everything about him, all the way down to his tattered rags that were once clothes, is beastly, except for those eyes. They’re the one thing about him that reminds you that, at one time, he was human.

“Take your clothes off,” he speaks up, jarring you from your daze.

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?” you joke, numb fingers fumbling with the zipper of your jacket regardless.

“They’re wet. You’ll warm up faster without them on.” Thankfully, he remains facing the fire, giving you the opportunity to strip until you’re in just your bra and panties. Throwing a blanket over your body, you clear your throat to let him know that you’re semi-decent. “Come over here.”

“Why?”

He glares at you. “Because I said so. Bring the blankets, too.”

You have to awkwardly crawl/shuffle towards the fire, but it’s worth it. You can almost feel the ice locking your joints in position melting, and you audibly sigh. The Beast begins to pile more blankets on top of you, and slowly, the chattering begins to subside.

“I have to admit, your makeshift rope certainly impressed me.”

You laugh slightly, still remaining acutely aware of who’s next to you. “Why couldn’t I...?”

“The curse. Nobody can leave the land once you’re trapped here.”

“But Jim was able to leave.”

“You took his place, (Y/N).”

“You know my name?”

He nods. “I heard Jim yell it enough to have it painfully engraved in my memory.”

You scoff, but have to admit that Jim has a way of making sure people don’t forget what he says. “Okay, but the three month prison sentence. Who decides how long people are stuck here for?”

The Beast glowers, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. “You should rest. Your stupidity put you through quite the ordeal tonight.”

He’s right, you probably should rest. You lay down on your side, huddled up towards the fire as you glance up at the Beast. “I’m really not supposed to fall asleep when recovering from something like near-hypothermia.”

“I know.”

You smile, snuggling under the blankets and closing your eyes. “Just, if I do stop breathing, promise me you’ll make some halfhearted effort to save me.”

With that, you fall asleep, the captor who’s just as trapped as you keeping watch over you until the fire’s nearly died out and the soft rays of dawn begin to peek through the windows.

[obx-writings]

I Love You So Bad - Part 2

A/N: As promised!!! Part 2 of I Love You So Bad! It took me awhile because I’ve been on vacation but I’m actually so excited to see where this series goes! Let me know what you think!!

It was now way after two am, you and your friends all buzzed and happy. After the little stunt that JJ had pulled, you were in a better mood, but your brain couldn’t stop thinking about it. What JJ had done was so un-JJ-like. You had never seen him act like that for anyone. Sure, he had his moments of affection, when he hugs Kie or Pope, or tackles John B, and when he wraps his arm around your shoulders. JJ has always been a touchy person, but it has never been so romanticized. You kept stealing glances at him through the fire, and whenever his eyes met yours, you’d dart them away and blush. Since when had you ever felt this way about JJ?

“Okay guys, I think we’re gonna turn in for the night.” Sarah said with a yawn. She got up and reached a hand out for John B, and collected the blanket from underneath them.

“Me too” Kie said, as she got up as well. She looked behind her at Pope. “You need a ride?”

“That would be great!” Pope jumped up and grabbed his things. “Tomorrow at the dock?” He said as he looked down at you.

“Course Pope, you know I’m a sucker for day drinking!” You said as you looked up at him. He playfully ruffled your hair and turned around to walk to Kie’s car. She gave you a hug and said goodbye before following him.

“You guys staying out here or coming in?” John B said, looking towards JJ who had lit another joint, which was hanging between his lips as smoke slowly seeped out.

“We’ll be in later, I don’t need to hear you guys going at it...again.” JJ said with his signature smirk plastered across his face. You scoffed and laughed at his childhood nature. Sarah just rolled her eyes and gave him the finger.

“Hey, JB, is it okay if I crash here tonight? Been drinking…” You laughed and he nodded.

“Just put the fire out before you guys come up. We don’t need to wake up to police sirens...again.” John B said, mocking JJ’s earlier comment. He just raised his hands up in defense.

“Wasn’t my fault bro!” He took the joint from his lips and handed it over to you. You took a hit and tilted your head back to let the smoke up, not noticing JJ’s eyes on you.

“Whatever man, I’ll see you in the morning.” John B laughed, and he and Sarah turned around to head up to the Chateau. You turned your head to wave at them, and when you turned back to hand JJ the joint, you noticed his eyes intently on you. You felt your face flush, and you blamed it on the high you were feeling.

“How you feeling, Dove?” JJ asked as he took the joint back. You were surprised at the nickname. He hadn’t called you Dove since you had started going out with Dalton. It was the nickname the Big John had given you back when you met John B. He was Bird, and you were Dove, and it just kind of stuck.

“I’m good, sleepy...high...the works” You giggled as the weed took full effect. You felt warm and happy, the heat from the fire only deepening the red in your cheeks. You looked over at JJ in your haze, and saw his sparkling blue eyes staring back at you.

“I can see that.” He smiled that big warm smile he always does, but there was something behind it this time. You just couldn’t put your finger on it. “Come here, Doveling.” That was a new one, and it made your stomach twist in a good way. You crawled over the grainy sand and sat down next to him.

“Why are you being so sweet to me tonight? Did you break something and you’re scared to tell me?” You joked with him, and laughed when he playfully took offense, bringing his hand to his chest to feign hurt.

“What? Can I not be sweet to the angel sitting next to me?” His tone was light, but he didn’t have the same numerous glint in his eyes. It was the most honest you had seen him in awhile, and it was about you. Your cheeks warmed, and you actually let yourself believe it was because of the blonde boy sitting next to you. Since when have I ever felt like this with JJ? He’s my best friend, right? You thought. His arm was behind you on the log your back was against, and he let it drift down onto your shoulders. This was normal for you, casual affection was always expected from JJ, but tonight, there was a different energy in the air.

“No, you can, just not used to it, I guess.” You breathe out, making direct eye contact with you. The air shifted between you, and his eyes flickered down to your lips for the slightest of seconds, before connecting back with yours. He laughed it off and pulled you into his chest, bringing the joint to his lips and taking a deep breath. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that you’re pretty sure he was about to kiss you. Or he was at least thinking about it.

“Well, Y/N, get used to it. You think one song is where I’m stopping? We’re gonna make sure you never have a bad memory about that asshole again.” He said it so confidently, and you actually were excited about this new JJ.

“Whatever you say, Blondie!” You stole the joint from his, igniting his protests and slapping his hand away as you stood up. “C’mon J, let’s go inside, I’m tired.” You stretched up, smoke lazily falling from your lips, and your shirt rode up to reveal your stomach slightly. You looked like a goddess in that moment to JJ, and his eyes could barely leave you, the soft glow from the fire shining off your skin. He slowly got up, never taking his eyes off of you, but you didn’t notice, your head turned back at the Chateau. You only turned to look at him when he mumbled something under his breath you didn’t catch.

“What was that?” You asked.

“Nothing, talking to myself.” He kicked someone sand over the fire, attempting to put it out. As the glow died down, you nodded, and moved on, reaching a hand out to enlace your fingers with his and make your walk up to the door. The steps creaked underneath the weight of you both, and you opened the door, letting the sticky air from inside cover you. You made a mental note to tell John B he needed to fix his air conditioning. You let go on JJ’s hand as you made your way to the pull out couch, flopping down, exhausted.

“I feel like I could sleep for 12 years man.” JJ laughed at how adorable you looked, messy hair, still in your t-shirt and jean shorts.

“Weed will do that to you. You need some clothes to sleep in?” He asked, leaning on the counter.

“M-comfy, night J.” You mumbled, already drifting away. JJ smiled, thinking how carefree you looked. He walked over and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to the top of your hair.

“I’ll be in the spare room if you need anything. Goodnight little Dove.” He whispered in your ear, and it sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps appearing on your skin, but JJ had already turned down the hall before he noticed. You were completely shocked at tonight’s events, not believing the romantic feelings you were having for your best friend. As you slowly drifted off, your brain finally registered what he had said by the fire. Damn, I wanted to kiss you, you dumbass.

Taglist: @tangledinsparkles @spilledtee

[sparklydreamies]

Stray Kids 8 Part Series ~ (2) Lee Minho: Pride is Sinful

Group: Stray Kids

Member: Lee Minho

Genre: Light angst + hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5,300+

Summary: Accepting help from his younger brothers is hard for Minho, but it may be necessary in the case of an injury. 

Stray Kids 8 Part Series MASTERLIST

A/n: Hi guys!! This story was kind of inspired by Minho during Stray Kids’ survival show days, and the times when he said he shouldn’t need their help since he was older ;-; It kind of gave me the idea to create a story where Minho begins feeling prideful, but ultimately realizes that he can lean on others as well! Also, LEE MINHO IS MY BIAS AND I FEEL SO BAD WRITING ABOUT HIM LIKE THIS :( 

“You have to make sure that your legs and back are straight when you land.”

Lee Minho is a dancer. Nothing in his life gave him the beautiful, euphoric feeling that he got when he moved effortlessly around the stage. Nothing was as satisfying as the feeling of the air hitting the thin layer of sweat on his face. Nothing felt more right than the feeling of his heart pounding and blood rushing through his body. 

Even as a child, Minho had never thought of himself as extraordinary in any way. Compared to his friends who were undeniably smart, funny, or good-looking, Minho had always thought he was rather average. Never nearly as good as others, let alone better. 

He was always told it was better that he thought that way. Pride was sinful, and according to his parents, an ugly trait for a young boy to have. They would tell him that being too prideful meant being arrogant and cocky. 

Maybe that was the reason he couldn’t take compliments without denying them. Never accepting any sort of praise without belittling himself. Maybe it was also the reason he was such a damn perfectionist. He never felt like he was good enough to be comfortable. 

That was, until he began dancing. 

To Minho, dancing wasn’t just his hobby. It was his lifestyle. He ate, slept and breathed dance. When he fell, he got back up. In some respect, the only time that Minho felt vaguely better than people was when he was dancing. 

It wasn’t wrong of him to want to be the best at something. This was what he was passionate about, which meant there should be no harm in wanting to improve and be special. Pride may be a sin, but ambition is the key to success. And what is ambition without acknowledgment of how far you have come and how hard you have worked? If anything, his ambition was only helping the team.

And for a while, his determination was doing nothing but pushing him to be the best he could be. That was, until it pushed him too far. 

Choreography practice had ended a few hours ago, and yet Minho told himself he was going to run through the routine a few more times. A few more times, and then he would leave. 

Minho had been exhausting every kink out of the choreography for days straight. As Minho watched the way his body contorted awkwardly in front of the mirror, he began to worry about his progress. 

Earlier that day, he had watched how Hyunjin led the team through a full practice effortlessly, the years of dancing skills shining through with the way that his body became fluid, accenting the music perfectly and hitting every beat. It was quite mesmerizing to watch. However when Minho saw himself attempt at the same routine of twists and steps, he found it was much different. 

It shouldn’t bother him that Hyunjin was catching on faster than he was; Hyunjin was the team’s dance leader after all. Of course he was going to be the best off the bat. 

But Minho was the oldest dancer in the team. He knew that it was immature and futile to feel resentment towards the other members who are working hard on their own, but his pride and ambition seemed to get the better of him. 

During the day’s practice, Hyunjin had spent his precious time teaching Minho how to safely practice the killing part in the song, which was a jump-slash-spin type move that Minho was having trouble grasping. 

The younger man had done nothing but show Minho how to practice it so that the team could benefit, however as much as Minho’s mind denied it, it felt so condescending. Minho could handle himself, why was Hyunjin acting like the hyung? Why was he acting like he was better than Minho? Hyunjin was already the visual of the group, why did he have to be the best at dancing too?

Minho had always thought that dancing was his thing. The thing that made him special. It wasn’t wrong to want to be the best. It wasn’t wrong to want to succeed. It wasn’t wrong to feel jealous. 

Minho grunted in frustration as he counted his steps again, using his emotions to push himself harder, promising himself that he would show Hyunjin how he can handle his own problems. 

The music was pounding Minho’s eardrums at a sonic volume, almost mocking how he was unable to monitor the beats well enough. The sound alone was enough to drive him mad. 

Countless tries after countless tries, Minho launched himself into the air, twisting his body and snapping his joints in seemingly the same way that he remembered Hyunjin showing him. Yet, as he carefully watched his body in the mirror, it was still too awkward and stiff. The muscles in his thighs were in excruciating pain as he willed himself to jump again and again, repeating the same mistakes. 

Why was he even a dancer? Hyunjin was a more fluid and swift dancer, Felix was more charismatic and memorable, but what was Minho? Every day that he spent exhausting himself just trying to keep up with the others was another day where he felt unworthy of his career. 

It should not be this hard to be mediocre. 

And anyways, it wasn’t as if Minho could ask anybody for help. As soon as he asks for help in the field that he was supposed to be good in, people will start questioning his abilities. Maybe the boys would spare him the judgement because he is their friend, but how could he be sure? He was supposed to be the oldest dancer that helps the younger boys learn and grow, and yet here he is, practicing the same move over and over again for hours on end. 

If anything, Minho’s moves were only deteriorating in quality as time went on. His movements were sloppier and less precise. He wasn’t paying attention to anything that Hyunjin had told him earlier. His mind kept drifting away from the task at hand, which was practically automatic at this point. Minho wasn’t focusing on his footwork and where his weight was placed. His head was pounding and he felt hot all over his body, yet he couldn’t tell if it was from the hours of dancing or the frustration. He felt like he wanted to rip his hair out, or his skin off, or scream at the top of his lungs, but he just kept jumping and twirling and twisting and leaping and spinning until he found himself falling towards the ground. 

Minho let out a loud yelp as his hands shot out to try and break his fall as best as they could. Shooting pain spiked up the bone in his forearms as he let himself fall slack on the cool studio floor.

Panic had set into Minho’s mind as he had heard it before the adrenaline in his brain had let him feel it. The sickening pop sound that had come from landing on his left ankle at a weird position. 

Minho sat up frantically and suddenly felt the god awful pain in his foot. He cried out a little bit when he tried to move it a little bit. 

Of course he had to fuck up his ankle. 

Without touching his foot, Minho worked to untie his shoelaces and stretch his sneaker out as wide as he could so he could inspect his injury. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he could already feel the muscle begin to swell. 

Minho took a deep breath and whimpered a little bit as he slowly inched his sneaker off of his injured foot, wincing at the tenderness of the ankle. 

He sighed in relief as the sneaker slid off of his foot, and he rolled his pant leg up. Minho was relieved when he saw that the visual damage was minuscule, only resulting in a bit of swelling and slight bruising. Minho’s trembling fingers moved to press down on the skin lightly, gasping at the explosion of pain. 

Timidly, Minho shifted to stand on his injured foot. His overworked muscles were trembling as he faintly transferred his weight from his right foot to his left. There was no pain for the first second, but as he slowly pressed on the tender foot, a shooting pain flared up his leg. 

Minho cried out in frustration as he sat himself back down to the ground, burying his face into his hands. Hot, unwanted tears began to escape his eyes and wet the skin of his palms. 

There was no reason for him to cry, so why was he still sniveling like a child? Minho sniffled a few times before wiping his tears onto the back of his hand. 

The clock suspended high up on the studio’s wall read 10:47. Minho swore to himself when he remembered he promised Chan to be home before 10:30. 

Minho took a shaky breath as he stretched the discarded sneaker out as much as he could, already wincing at the thought of restricting his aching foot in it. 

By the sickening mess of raw, swollen flesh that rested at the bottom of his leg, Minho figured that the injury was a sprain. Sprained limbs are not uncommon for dancers, but they could be dangerous. 

It was about 11:00 in the evening when Minho hobbled into the dorm, fully expecting the scolding he was about to endure from Chan. Surprisingly, the space seemed fairly quiet, save for the faint sounds of video games coming from Felix and Hyunjin’s shared room. The dorm still smelled like whatever Changbin had brought for supper, which seemingly lured Minho right into the kitchen. 

Minho heated up some of the take out that was left in the fridge for him, sighing as he found himself an ice pack for his ankle. 

He ate with his leg propped up on another chair, covered with ice. Although it felt uncomfortable, it also felt oddly nice. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Chan slurred as he stumbled into the kitchen. 

Minho moved his leg from the chair to underneath the table. His ice pack fell onto the floor with a soft thud, but Chan seemed to not notice it. This must have been some sort of reflex; almost like Minho’s mind rejected the idea of anybody knowing about his injury. Especially not their leader, who had an abundance of other problems and issues that he has to deal with. 

“I was practicing and lost track of time, I’m sorry.” Minho explained, returning his attention to the noodles that were starting to cool off in his bowl. Chan sighed and sat down at the table. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Chan said, “I was starting to get a little bit worried.”

Minho scoffed at the older boy. “You know I can take care of myself, you don’t have to worry.” 

Minho saw Chan smile tiredly behind his fingers. It wasn’t until Chan looked up that Minho saw the dark bags underneath the other’s eyes. Chan had lines of worry stretched across his forehead, his hair was messy and looked like it hadn’t been washed in a while, and his eyes looked exhausted. 

Minho knew about Chan’s habit of putting the team’s success above his own health, and he knew about how dangerous it could be. Judging by the rough looking pile of a leader sitting across from him, he could guess that Chan hadn’t slept in a while.

“You look like a sick old man,” Minho cautiously jokes, leaning across the table to push on Chan’s shoulders. Minho winced slightly as he put some more pressure on his ankle. Luckily, the tired leader didn’t notice a thing. “You should go to sleep,”

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” Chan said, cracking a wide smile at the younger. 

Minho giggled at him. “With the way you look right now, that day will come sooner than you thought.”

Chan gave an amused huff towards Minho. He rubbed his dark eyes, and leaned forward in his seat, resting his head on his hands. “I thought you knew me, Minho,” he said with a small chuckle. 

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t overwork yourself,” Minho retorted, eating some of the noodles Changbin bought, “you look like a zombie.” 

“Changbin and I spent all last night in the studio,” Chan yawned, “I had to pull him home because he passed out at the desk,” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Minho said. 

“By the way,” Chan shifted in his seat, “how is the choreo coming? I noticed you were having some difficulty today,”

Minho felt a weight crash on him. Chan was giving up his sleep and sanity to help the team, and Minho isn’t even able to keep up his own workload without breaking himself. 

“Uhm,” he started, shifting his gaze back down to his noodles to look unbothered, “it’s coming along. I’ve almost got it down, I think,”

“Just take care of yourself too, okay?” Chan asked, his aura becoming a little bit more serious, “we can’t have you injured right before a comeback,”

That was it. Minho felt his anxiety build at that one sentence. If Chan only knew the irony of that statement. There was literally an ice pack beneath the table to soothe an injury that might prevent Minho from making any progress with his improvements, and yet Chan didn’t know a thing. 

Minho played his dread off with a little chuckle. It felt too awkward, and he was sure that the leader knew something was up. Yet, being the tired and clueless boy that he was, Chan didn’t notice anything. 

“Well it’s kind of late, and I can barely keep my eyes focused anymore,” Chan stated, getting up from his seat, “I’m going to go to bed. Make sure you get some sleep soon, okay?”

Minho hummed a yes before Chan bid another goodnight, leaving Minho to finish his food and shower before heading to bed. 

What was he going to do? The logical thing would be to tell Chan or a manager or someone that he accidentally hurt himself, but he was too damn prideful. It would be embarrassing to admit to Hyunjin that he ignored the advice he gave him, or to let Chan down by taking a break to heal his foot. He didn’t want his company, members, or fans to think that he was fragile or weak.

If it was any other member, Minho wouldn’t hesitate to suggest time off for healing, but he couldn’t admit to needing the same thing. 

The next day, Minho woke up feeling even more soreness in his ankle than he had before. He was sure that it was a sprain, which conflicted him. He didn’t know if he should tell somebody and risk giving up practice and work until it healed. Then again, if he didn’t say anything, he risked causing an even worse injury. 

Minho made his way to the kitchen, trying to walk as normally as possible with the aching feeling spreading up his leg. If he could make it to the kitchen and snag some painkillers without anybody noticing, he might be able to soothe the pain enough to make it through the day. 

Without anybody in the kitchen, Minho limped over to the cabinet above the coffee machine, where the boys kept all of their medicine and bandages. For good measure, he pocketed the bottle just in case he felt more pain later. 

“G’morning,” Felix grunted, stumbling into the kitchen towards the coffee pot. 

“Morning, Lix.” Minho ruffled the kid’s messy bed-head before looking for something to eat. “Did you sleep well?” 

Felix gave a small nod as he poured himself a cup of completely black coffee. Felix looked very tired; Minho assumed it was probably from playing video games all night like usual. 

“You should take better care of your health, Lix.” Minho said. “Spending eight hours playing computer games is bad for your brain.” Minho sat down at the kitchen table with a granola bar in his hand. 

Felix chuckled and sat down too, “Maybe for you, but I’ve adapted myself to spending hours online.” 

Before Minho could scold him any more, he was interrupted by Hyunjin yawning as he walked through the door. He was dressed in his usual workout clothes, which surprised Minho, since they didn’t have choreography practice again until the next day. 

“Good morning,” Hyunjin said, seating himself down beside Felix.

“Morning,” Minho said, “are you going to the gym today?” 

Hyunjin shook his head. “I was thinking maybe we could go work on your move? You and I? Chan told me you didn’t get home until late last night.” 

Minho felt the anxiety build in his chest. How could he say no to practice? He knows that he isn’t that good and therefore shouldn’t pass up an opportunity to improve. But on the other hand, Hyunjin had taught him how to be safe while training, and he ignored the advice. He could barely walk on his ankle properly; Hyunjin would know something was up immediately. 

“Also Felix, you have to cool it with the games, you kept me up all night with those stupid little gunshot noises.” Hyunjin complained. “So we’ll leave in twenty?” 

Maybe it was a reflex or an instinct, or maybe Minho was just used to agreeing to practice time when offered, but before he had the chance to figure out a way out of it, the older boy was agreeing to working one-on-one with Hyunjin on their day off from practice. 

A while back, Jisung had twisted his ankle badly. He was out running, and hit a crack in the pavement. It wasn’t that bad of an injury, but for good measure, he had bought himself some support socks. 

Minho excused himself away from the table, trying to walk as naturally as possible, yet feeling what felt like the eyes of a hundred people burned into the back of his head. 

Minho sifted through Jisung’s sock drawer before finally pulling out the black and silver support socks from the very back, where they had been discarded and forgotten about ever since Jisung healed from the incident. 

Wincing, he carefully pulled the stiff fabric over his foot, almost letting a noise out when it moved his ankle. Once he stood up from the bed he was perched on, he took a few test strides. He was surprised at the way that the expensive fiber backed up his muscle. 

Minho quickly changed into some fresh workout clothes, and met Hyunjin by the door. 

“Ready?” Hyunjin asked, already opening the door. 

Minho hummed a yes and followed the boy out. The two of them made their way out of the dorms and down the street towards the studio. Minho was trying to distract himself with the uncomfortable pressure on his injured foot, and contemplated telling Hyunjin about it. Yet, as they walked, he began to worry again about his progress. Isn’t it natural for an idol to push through injuries for their careers? 

“So how did practicing it on your own feel yesterday?” Hyunjin asked as they walked, Minho trying his best to look as normal as he could, thanking god that he had the socks to help. 

“Uh,” he started, “it wasn’t bad, I think I’m improving,” 

Out of the corner of Minho’s eyes, he saw Hyunjin smile. It seemed unlike a smile of amusement, but more like a smile of fondness. 

“You improve everyday, Minho.” Hyunjin said, “You’re a hard worker. I know you’re going to get it,” 

Minho scoffed at Hyunjin before he could register it and stop himself. Hyunjin bumped his shoulders as they walked. Minho winced at the pain that sprouted from his foot, but kept moving nonetheless. 

“Don’t make that noise, you’re doing fine,” Hyunjin assured. Minho hated the way that he wanted so desperately to argue with Hyunjin because he can’t take compliments well. “It seems tough because you’re not getting it right away, but that’s what I’m helping you for,” the younger boy smiled brightly as they walked.

Minho was so happy knowing that he has a team of brothers that are willing to help him whenever he needs it. As much as he knew that he was lucky to have Hyunjin, he still felt that heavy pang of unnecessary jealousy. His mind was screaming at him to resent Hyunjin for making him feel inferior. 

“Thanks,” Minho said rather quietly, wanting to change the subject or end the conversation quickly before he felt even more awkward. 

“Ah don’t be like that,” Hyunjin sighed as he opened the company door for Minho. Minho made a confused noise as he passed the younger. “Just accept my help.”

Even though Hyunjin’s words made him sound upset, he was still speaking in a rather calm and light-hearted voice. It made Minho undeniably angry. 

“I am accepting your help, that’s why I’m here,” Minho countered, “let’s just practice, okay?” Minho was walking slightly ahead of Hyunjin on their way to the dance studios, when he stumbled slightly. He must have put pressure on a weird part of his ankle, because he felt a new wave of soreness in his bone. 

“Hold on, are you limping?” Hyunjin suddenly asked. Hyunjin instinctively grabbed onto the older’s arm, trying to help him regain his balance. 

Minho shook Hyunjin’s hand off of him, trying to play it off as easily as possible. “I just stepped on something,” he said, but Hyunjin was not easily fooled. 

“No it wasn’t that. You’re walking weird, Minho. Come over here,” Hyunjin gestured, leading Minho towards the practice room. 

“I swear I’m okay,” Minho awkwardly laughed. The dread of his ignorant mistake set into his chest when he realized he was found out. Hyunjin wasn’t an easy member to fool about anything. 

Hyunjin was staring at Minho with hawk-like eyes. “There’s something wrong and you’re not telling me,”

Minho avoided Hyunjin’s gaze by moving towards the bench at the side of the room, where he normally changed into his workout shoes. “I already said it’s nothing,” he sighed. He started taking the shoe off of his uninjured foot, feeling a little bit nervous to take his left one off in front of Hyunjin. 

Even after Minho thought he ended the conversation, Hyunjin still stared at him skeptically. Hyunjin knew that something was up, and Minho couldn’t hide his foolishness from him any more than he already has. 

Mentally groaning, Minho reached down to his left ankle, and untied the laces. Hyunjin sat down at the bench directly beside Minho so that he could change his shoes as well. Minho stretched the shoe out as much as he could to avoid the pulling motion on his sensitive flesh. He could not hide the way that his face contorted ever so slightly from the discomfort. 

“Mhm,” Hyunjin hummed. “Let’s take a couple laps around the room to warm up, okay?” he suggested, practically springing out from his seat, light feet bouncing him with ease. 

By now, it was a game of cat and mouse. Hyunjin was the cat trying so desperately to catch Minho, who was trying to escape the other’s claws. Hyunjin already knew what was up, yet of course, he wanted to force Minho to confess. 

Minho huffed as he rose himself from his seat, trying to give Hyunjin nothing to worry about. “You want to run?” he asked, walking away from Hyunjin, “Fine.” he said. Minho took off in a light jog down the side of the practice room. He was cringing with the amount of stress it put on his leg, yet he focused himself on remaining stone-faced. Damn all of these mirrors. 

Behind him, he heard Hyunjin take off in a jog as well, catching up to Minho fairly quickly. 

“I say we should do this every time we practice, don’t you think so, Minho?” Hyunjin teased. It made a pang of anger burst in Minho’s head.

Minho kept running and running, trying to keep up with Hyunjin’s slightly increasing pace, putting one foot in front of the other over and over and over again, until--

“Fuck!” Minho yelped after he landed himself weirdly on his left ankle. He fell to the floor with a thud, and clutched his leg to his chest. The pain of the fall mixed with the embarrassment of Hyunjin’s gaze made him so frustrated that he let out a growl like noise. 

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked, crouching so that he could examine Minho. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and full of worry. 

Minho groaned out a “Yeah,” as he moved his trembling fingers to untie his shoelaces. Stretching the material once again, he slipped it off of his foot, wincing at the pull. 

“No you’re not, oh my god,” Hyunjin’s hands were fidgeting. He wasn’t quite sure what he should do to help Minho. He watched as Minho rolled up his pant leg, exposing a ball of swollen and bruised flesh. “Is it sprained?” he asked, reaching his arm out before pulling it back, not wanting to touch what he figured was a very tender and painful limb. 

“What the fuck does it look like?” Minho growled. The hostility in his voice took Hyunjin aback. 

“Well c’mon, we’ll call someone and get it checked out,” 

“No,” Minho ran his fingers through his hair as he felt the frustration bubble in his chest. 

“What do you mean, no?” Hyunjin looked concerned, to say the least. As calm as he tried to seem on the outside, his eyes gave away his panicked state, and he was as pale as a ghost. 

“I mean I don’t need to get it checked out!” Minho said in such an exasperated tone that it made Hyunjin cower like a dog. 

Minho shifted onto his right foot to push himself up off of the ground. It felt degrading to sit like that with his younger brother crouching beside him. 

“Woah, what are you doing?” Hyunjin asked, “And... Why are you so hostile today? I think that you should have someone look at it. What if it gets worse?” he said, as he stood up as well, grabbing onto Minho’s arm to keep his balance. 

Annoyance clouded Minho when Hyunjin put that hand on his arm. In a harsh movement, he yanked away from his brother’s grip. 

“Just fuck off!” Minho yelled. 

Hyunjin was so shocked that he couldn’t think of anything to say back. He saw Minho’s eyes begin to fill with tears of frustration. 

Minho was upset beyond his control. On a normal occasion, he would never say these things to any of the members. But as Hyunjin remained calm, acting mature, Minho felt anger pile up and fog his mind.

Minho grabbed his hair, trying to ground himself. He was trying to keep himself from flying off the handle at Hyunjin. 

“I don’t know what your problem is, but you should figure it out before you talk to me like that,” Hyunjin said, a quiet tone contrasting to the loud outburst that the older boy created. 

Minho snapped his head around. “Will you stop treating me like that?” 

“Like what?”

“Like you’re my hyung!” Minho shouted. 

Realization dawned on Hyunjin. He chuckled dryly to himself. “I get it.” he whispered coldly. His expression was like ice, and his gaze was overwhelming to Minho. “You’re so mad because you’re too immature to take criticism. Not just that,” he said, his voice slightly rising in intensity, “but you can’t handle the fact that you can learn from someone younger than you,” he accused. 

Minho was outraged. He wanted to scream at Hyunjin and rip his hair out, but what was the point? Hyunjin was right. No matter how well he knew that, he couldn’t admit it. He couldn’t let Hyunjin win. 

“You have such a goddamn age superiority complex that you can’t accept help from someone younger than you, isn’t that right?” Hyunjin asked, stepping forwards. 

Minho took a step backwards from the boy, only to cry out in pain again and fall to the ground. This time though, Hyunjin didn’t crouch down. 

“All I’ve been doing these past few days is help you because you’re my friend, and that’s what friends do,” he said. 

Minho felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment as he realized he was sitting while Hyunjin was towering over him. He felt that there was a power imbalance, yet he didn’t deserve to try and even it out. He was childish and petty. Minho felt guilty for everything, which only contributed to the pool of unshed tears in his eyes that refused to be blinked away. 

With a lowered head, Minho whispered “I’m sorry.” 

There was a brief beat of silence before Hyunjin finally sighed in exasperation as he crouched down again. 

“I just...” Minho sniffed and took a breath, finally feeling a hot tear run down his cheek. “I just want... to do well. And I’m jealous.” 

“You can’t be jealous of people like this, it’s not healthy,” Hyunjin said. 

“Yeah I know, but...” Minho dabbed his eyes with the hem of his shirt, not wanting his face to be all red and puffy, “I am the one who was supposed to help you. I was supposed to help you, and Felix, and Jisung, and Jeongin and everyone else, but all I’m doing is being a fucking child.” 

Hyunjin brought his hand out to rub circles into Minho’s back. Minho wanted to push him away, not deserving the comfort of his friend, but he couldn’t help the way he leaned into the touch. 

“I don’t know what’s going on inside your head to make you think that you can’t tell us when you’re injured or having a hard time, but I hope that you can find it in you to believe me when I say that...” Hyunjin paused, only starting again when Minho raised his head and they made eye contact, “you are talented, and you are special. Nobody thinks anything less than that.” 

Minho’s mind was telling him no. it was telling him that Hyunjin was lying, and that he shouldn’t believe what he said. Minho was an awful dancer and didn’t belong in the team. 

Yet, seeing the emotions in Hyunjin’s eyes, Minho felt himself beginning to believe it just a bit. 

“I’m sorry I exploded,” he murmured. 

Hyunjin gave him a gentle side hug. “Although it was shitty, I know you’re just stressed. The Lee Minho I know wouldn’t do this.”

Minho took a second to appreciate the lovely boy beside him. The boy that is more mature than his hyung. 

“I’m an awful friend, aren’t I?” Minho asked. 

Hyunjin chuckled softly. “Just a little bit,” he said, before pulling Minho’s head towards his chest. 

Minho sighed as he lolled himself towards Hyunjin. For once, it was nice to not have to be the hyung. It was kind of nice to not have to show his strong side. 

“I let my pride get the best of me,” Minho whispered. 

“I could tell that,” Hyunjin was rubbing soothing patterns on Minho’s hip, “just don’t let it happen again, okay?” 

Minho nodded against his shirt. 

“Hyunjin?” he asked, “Do you think... that you could take me to get my ankle looked at?” 

Hyunjin pressed his face against Minho’s head. Minho looked up into the mirror in front of them to see himself, red-eyed and puffy faced, curled up against Hyunjin, who had a lovely smile on his face. 

Again, it wasn’t an amused smile, but instead, it was a smile of fondness. A smile that one friend would give to another after they’ve settled a rather childish argument. 

“I was planning on taking you anyways.” 

[junejalow]

“Date Night”

Coolguy1245 requested the a prompt of Thermite/Ash going on a date.

Sorry this took so long to get out, I've honestly been caught up with other things but I'm getting back full swing on requests! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Text

Thermite whistled to himself as he leisurely walked along the halls of the base, he had just finished up some drills under Thatcher's watch and helped him out with paper work afterwards which surprising didn't draw any form of usual complaint from the older man, he was slightly taken aback by the action despite it speeding up the process. Jordan could get work done when in the right mind set and with the right people or on his own even if he tended to procrastinate when left alone, he eventually got the work done before whatever dead line the reports had since he didn't want Ash, Harry, Thatcher or Montagne's scolding on his ass. He sighed at the thought, pushing it aside as he neared his designation. He had walked from the training grounds, court yard, living area to the showers, stopped to fill out reports with Thatcher, hurried along to the dorm section and now he was here. He fished around in his pocket for the key to his room and with one swift movement he unlocked the door and turned the nob. He noticed the lights were already on and glanced to Ash's work desk, sure enough the attacker was sitting there typing away on her laptop with papers strewed around and folders stacked or opened. Her brow was furrowed with concentration to whatever she was working on. He didn't disturb her until he heard the laptop click shut.

"How was training?" Ash asked as she cleaned up her desk, putting papers into the correct files and placing them in storage. She was a organized frantic when it came to things being put in their place, mainly when it was files. She couldn't stress enough how easy things were to find when they were placed correctly, vs the mess Jordan had on his side of things but she never tried to fix any of it since she valued her sanity and the hard Texan always managed to find exactly what he needed. Ash would never openly say it, but the simple act amazed her. He could pick a needle out of a hay stack with one look.

"Same as usual, Although a accident happened. Nothing to bad. Blitz rushed the biohazard container last second and flash banged Jager, caught him off guard, Poor guy tripped over some ruble from a wall I took down and busted his tail bone. Fuze ain't happy about it, nearly shoved Blitz against a wall over the matter." He replied, watching Ash get ready for the date they agreed to go on this afternoon after all of their work was done.

"See, this is why I told Harry it wasn't a good idea to have anyone romantically involved on opposite sides. That exact situation could have turned into a fight and that's the last thing we need."

"Hey hey, it's alright. There aren't any hard feelings. Monty calmed everyone down and they understood it was just training and accidents happen. Even Thatcher didn't leave until everyone was good. It's fine, really." Jordan told her, leaving the shared room with her after grabbing his car keys.

"Not the point Jordan." She sighed out with a light annoyed tone. "I'm not against anyone here having a relationship, it helps in ways. Like you did with me…. I would be drowning in work and responsibilities if you weren't here to tug me back a few steps." He smiled warmly and grabbed her hand, taking their time walking through the hallways of the base.

"I needed you too Eliza, I got no one outside this team. Everyone here is like family of some sort or another but you…damn woman you are so much more~"

"Starting your flirting already? Did your gadget blast you with too much heat?" Ash teased with a smile, shivering faintly to the chilly England air as they walked out of the dorm section of the base and across open ground to the parking lot. Various car's neatly lined up. Harry didn't mind them leaving and exploring during downtime but expected them to come back within reasonable time incase there was an emergency, which seemed to be a lot lately. Half the base was currently deployed to different countries right now. Thermite himself had just returned not even three days ago from a month long mission helping defuse bombs from several sites and hidden factory's the White Masks were crafting and producing. His hands were still sore but he would never complain about it, not when the entire team had come back without a scratch. Sure exhausted and lack of sleep had taken it's toll on all of them, that wasn't anything new to the operators. He wouldn't trade sleep for this chance of a date night, they had been planning this for months now with the last three attempts being stolen away by their jobs calling for their attention. Soon enough the pair were on their way down the road, soft music playing from the radio between idol chatter of news reports about jobs, tv shows, new food brands, touring music bands, and new movie releases. Ash's phone bleeped with a text message, she tried to ignore it since she promised Jordan her attention would be on the date and not work once they left.

"You can answer it Eliza, we're not at the restaurant yet." Thermite told her with a reassuring tone.

"I'm not going back on my promise Jordan, that's not something I do and you know it."

"What if it's Jager letting you know he got called out for a mission? You know he never rests for anything, he's on standby as well." He replied, making a good point. He had personally witnessed the German operator fly them out of harsh situations even with injuries, even though the scolding he got from Doc and Harry himself wasn't very nice to listen too and left the pilot not wanting to leave his room for awhile.

"It's nothing important, if it was they would have called instead." Eliza replied, dismissing the subject. Her eyes wondered to the passing scenery, small stores, café's, old historical areas. Even she had to admit that England was a pretty place. Smoke and Mute had taken them on tours before as a team building exercise that turned into an all day trip, it was much needed at the time though. A lot of them had come back from a mass joint operation that ended in success but not without casualties, they had a lost a hand full of recruits that day. Montagne and Kapkan were emotionally scarred from it, they had personally trained the recruits for that mission just for them to come home in coffins. It took a solid month for them to come out of their depressed states and focus on the bigger issue at hand. She noticed the scenery slowing down as Thermite pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, once he found a decent parking spot he escorted her inside. They found a booth in the corner and settled in, it only took them a few minutes to get drinks and their food ordered. Thankfully neither of them were picky about what they consumed. Living on base with different nationalities you learned to eat whatever was offered by the on site staff who tended to change up the weekly food list to make everyone happy, of course the kitchen was open over the weekend for the operator's. Some enjoyed baking sweets or a simple home dish to lift spirits.

"You know...this is pretty nice. Getting out like this and relaxing." Eliza said with a smile, working at a steak with her cutlery.

"We don't get it often, and I don't count on base movie nights as dates." Jordan chuckled.

"Those are not movie nights, that's just a excuse for our friends to get drunk and fight over the remote for the tv."

"Okay okay, I'll give you that one… even though you stole the remote last time and played that cheesy love movie."

"Jordan! It was not cheesy! It was a good movie and you have zero taste in anything that doesn't explode."

"Really? Coming from someone who launches grenades' at walls?" Eliza paused midchew and stared at him from across the table, after a moment of silence they both tried to stifle a laugh so they wouldn't be too loud.

The two attacker's couldn't have any solid arguments about their own equipment since both were similar in ways. It was all in good fun though and both knew it, bantering like this relieved stress in an odd way for them. Ash waved her hand in front of her towards Thermite when he asked if she was retort any.

"No, no. I'm done. You had a fair point Jordan." She replied with a genuine smile. Thermite found himself returning the same type of smile, He loved the woman sitting in front of him with every fiber of his being for a endless list of reasons. The way they interacted with each other was in the top ten on that list. He could always joke around with her without it being taken serious. They had been around each other long enough to know the faint body signals, the small twitches, muscles tensing or jaws setting a certain way that gave away aggravation.

"Hey, did you still wanna talk about whatever it was you mentioned this morning?" She suddenly asked him, eyes gleaming curiously.

"Right! Right," Jordan said before clearing his throat a bit, he had finished his own steak earlier. Being among the few guys within rainbow that could put a lot of competitive eaters to shame. "Well. I recently got an apartment off base, and…I um…" Eliza waited patiently, concern filling her features. Jordan was never at a loss for words so she knew this was coming important.

"Jordie… what's going on?" She asked softly, using his nickname only she could call him by. Anyone else caught a glare from the Texan that clearly told people not to use it. He glanced up from his scarred hands, pausing to seeing her expression.

"It's not bad! I promise I was just… wondering if you wanted… to move in with me. Maybe take this a step further?"

Her face blanked out for a moment, taking in the request from her boyfriend. Her pulse quickened at the thought of actually living off base with him, both of them would constantly have to take their work home or rush back at a moment's notice should anything happen. But at the same time… having a place to call their own? She felt a grin spreading across her face before she said anything.

"You know what? I like that idea, I would love to move in with you." Jordan felt his chest swell with mixed emotions, happiness, fear, excitement, nervousness.

"Y-you serious? You really want to?"

She nodded, keeping her grin. "Yes, I'm being dead serious Jordan."

Thermite had to stop himself from jumping up and shouting right on the spot, his dream coming true of finally having a more private area with Eliza. A place they could officially call home and not be interrupted at night by loud noises or arguing between operators. "Thank you for agreeing, I'm moving everything next week if that's enough time for you."

"Of course, I can work with that."

The couple soon finished up their drinks and headed back out after paying, they wondered into base and quickly skipped past the common room. Hearing Rook fuss at Lion about drinking too much with them being on stand by, Blitz keeping Bandit from going after them for interrupting his tv show. Glaz and Mute sitting at a table on the other side of the room, the Russian working on a sketch while Mute typed away at his laptop. It wasn't unusual to see the pair together when Tachanka and Smoke were off base on missions. Ash shook her head they couldn't have one quiet afternoon here without something happening but that was the fun part of being with Rainbow. All the different people and personalities. Even if her and Jordan moved to the apartment soon, they would always be here for their family.

[what-big-teeth]

Imprint (Asrai Girlfriend, pt. 1)

Female Reader (POV) x Female Monster [Part 2]

tw: near-drowning 

It all started with a tire swing suspended over the lake near your family’s shared summer home.

Old and worn, its fraying rope was tied to the thick branch of a dying oak tree; but that didn’t stop your cousins from using it. Neither did their and your parents’ constant warnings.

One summer’s day, during a long-winded session of Truth or Dare, Simon and Silas led you to the lake’s edge. With barely hidden mischief shining from their matching eyes, Simon stepped forward and shoved you towards the oak tree.

“We dare you to take three big swings,” he said. “If you do it without screaming, you win.”

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t say no. The word was too deeply lodged in your throat, held in place by the larger size and greater strength of your older cousins. With a held breath, you climbed on top of the tire swing and sat down, squeezing the unraveling rope between your knees. The swing pulled back, thanks to your cousins grabbing the old tire’s inner ring and shuffling backwards together. You gulped when the rope went completely taut.

“W-wait,” you whimpered, “I’m not—!“

The first swing took you by surprise, accompanied by your older cousins’ laughter. At its apex, squinting against the sun’s bright rays, you looked back, directly past the lake’s clear surface to the deep bottom underneath. Your stomach heaved and your hands scrambled to tighten their meager grip around the old rope on the back swing.

“Guys! I wanna get off!”

Instead of catching you as you hoped, Simon and Silas just watched as the tire swung backward, still laughing. The highest point came again with a violent lurch that roiled your stomach. Something was wrong.

You screamed out to Simon and Silas again, voice cracking and eyes burning as the tire spun like a top. Like before, they ignored you. And laughed and laughed and laughed—

Something snapped.

You flew, hurled into the air like a ragdoll, the world somersaulting until your back and head collided with something solid. The impact stole the air from your body. When you tried to breathe, your lungs burned. A froth of bubbles raced up above your head towards a wavering light. All as you sank deeper and further, too stunned to do anything but watch.

But not for long.

An unseen force wrapped your wrist in a cold vice and pulled. The sudden speed at which you moved stung your eyes, forcing them closed. But you still heard the rush of water beating against your ears. The pressure built inside them until you could no longer keep gritting your teeth. Your mouth pried open from the pain above the lake’s surface instead of under.

Your hands scrabbled at the lakeside, sinking into the wet soil and seizing a raised, gnarled tree root. Your vision began to blur and you wheezed, unable to properly draw in air due to the wet crackling in your chest.

So when you heard a soft, soothing murmur right by your ear and turned towards the source, you couldn’t believe what you saw.

No girls you knew ever had natural green hair. Or slit pupils. But the thought didn’t have time to root itself in your mind.

With your mother’s screams ringing in your ears, your body gave into exhaustion and everything faded to black.

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

That was years ago, when you were just a child.

A day-long visit to the nearby hospital guaranteed your recovery, but the accident left its mark in various ways. A rift severed most of the familial bonds between your parents and your uncle and aunt. The only thing they agreed to leave untouched was the shared ownership of the lake house.

Your grandparents’ final request was for it to be a secondary haven in times of need, and the adults couldn’t bring themselves to dishonor that wish. Regardless, estrangement became the norm as you grew up. So you never saw Simon and Silas again.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on the sudden alienation for long. The incident affected you as well. The first result was a wariness of any large bodies of standing water, one you’re still trying to overcome. The second was an odd curiosity: a faint, silvery handprint on your wrist.

It faded over time, but not enough to vanish. The size of the imprint resembled that of a child’s hand, which could no longer encircle your adult-sized joint. It was undeniable proof of what you saw before you were taken to the hospital.

The green-haired girl who saved your life.

Over the years, the mark tugged at the curiosity deep within you. Not insistent, but docile. The sensation gained a life of its own and turned into a steady gentle pulse, coaxing you to follow the underlying urge infused into it.

Return to the lake. And this summer, you intend to answer the call.

“Sweetheart, are you sure about this?”

You slam home the trunk door of your old-fashioned, teal pickup and dust off your hands.

“I am. I talked to my therapist and she thinks safe exposure therapy will help. We’ve scheduled when she’ll check in on me and I have her number on speed dial.”

Your dad steps closer to your mother and wraps an arm around her shoulders. He doesn’t speak. But the stiffness of his movements and the compressed corners of his eyes say enough.

You pocket your car keys and step into your parents’ awaiting, warm embrace.

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper, “Promise.”

To seal the deal, you offer your dad your extended pinky which he wraps his own around, an old, childhood tradition. All while your mom kisses your temple. With a final goodbye and promise to text them, you pull away from the curb and drive off.

An upbeat playlist blasting from your phone makes the three-hour-long drive tolerable. The natural progression from the concrete, city sights to natural scenery doesn’t hurt, either. Soon enough, your truck takes a final turn down an unpaved, dirt road. Each and every bump is just as familiar and nostalgic as they were when you were younger. But without the slight pain to your backside.

You reach the end of the trail, the lake house revealing itself once your pass the last of the towering pines. It’s exactly as you remember it, untouched by time. And without any other vehicles in the driveway.

You step out of your parked truck, inhaling the clean, sharp scent of the surrounding area. Instead of uncomfortable dread, you only feel a sense of peace and calm. With a decisive nod, you get to work.

Unpacking your rolling luggage and cooler takes the better part of an hour. Mainly as the backup generator had to be fired up and the A/C needed to circulate. Blessedly, you don’t find any traces of dust or dirt inside. The place is spotless, the trash having been emptied. Once you’re settled inside, your stomach makes its emptiness known.

Lunch is a simple sandwich, chips, and a chilled bottle of your favorite iced tea. Hunger sated, you tackle the few dirtied dishes and rack them. As you dry your hands, your wrist tingles and cools.

Your gaze lifts towards an uncurtained window, past the glass and out towards the overcast lake. This is your chance.

Brisk footsteps lead you out onto the wooden pier. Here, you used to dangle your bare feet above the lake’s surface and watch the peaceful scenery. But now, you cautiously inch towards the pier’s edge on tense hands and knees to stare down into the water. There’s nothing unusual. Just a few fish gliding along as if they’re flying.

A swift shape darts by and underneath the pier. You stifle a gasp and squint through the small gaps between the wood.

But a sweet, low chirrup interrupts your search. Your gaze turns back towards the pier’s end. Vivid sea-green eyes peer up at you, framed by a heart-shaped face, a button nose, and long, dark green hair. And her light teal skin is smooth and flawless.

Her full lips lift into a sweet smile, one that makes your cheeks fill with a pleasant warmth. It’s an addicting feeling and you find yourself moving to meet her at the pier’s end. Her smile grows even sweeter and your pulse flutters in your chest.

“It’s really you,” you breathe.

Your childhood savior tilts her head to the side, chirping softly. She blinks up at you in an endearing way and you realize the issue.

“You can’t understand me, can you?”

As if hearing the sad tone in your voice, she reaches out her hand and grazes it against yours. Seeing the thin membrane between her fingers, you carefully twine yours with hers. Her skin is cold to the touch but not unpleasant in the humid, summer heat.

She hums, drawing your attention. Her face is much closer than before. Glancing down, you see water curling up from the lake to rest underneath her lithe form, acting as a seat. She purses her lips and your eyes follow the movement of her plush mouth.

Pulse pounding, and hoping your assumption is right, you lean down towards her. She lifts her free hand to cup your warming cheek and meets you halfway.

The kiss is chaste and sweet, and when she opens her mouth in invitation, you immediately accept. She tastes of the berries you used to gather in the past, rich and bright. Your tongue brushes against something sharp and you gasp. But she soothes the sting with her own tongue before tapering off the kiss with smaller pecks.

Dazed, you pull back panting softly. She shows her white, fanged teeth with a grin.

“I can understand you now,” she murmurs, licking her lips.

You feel no fear from the hungry gleam in her eyes. Instead, it sends shivers racing up and down your spine.

“Who are you?”

She brushes the pad of her thumb against your bottom lip.

“You may call me Maris.”

You’re torn between catching your breath or indulging yourself in her again. The choice is made for you when someone calls your name.

Startled, you push away from the pier’s end and land hard on your rear. With a groan, you clamber to your feet, hissing and squirting through the pain. The face you meet isn’t familiar at first thanks to the neat, trimmed beard he has. But if you removed the facial hair, the black-rimmed glasses and the dark bags underneath his eyes…

“Silas?”

Your cousin blinks at you as if fully recognizing you for the first time. He smiles awkwardly and holds up a large hand in greeting.

“Yeah. It’s…it’s good to see you.”

You honestly don’t know if you can truly say the same. But you nod in reply, regardless.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he says.

His bushy brows knit together as if trying to discern your reason. The gesture leaves a sour taste in the back of your mouth. It reminds you of how he and Simon would wrench your words from your mouth when you were little. Like pulling teeth. But you don’t budge and refuse to give in. To your surprise, he does.

“Things...at home aren’t going so well. Sara can’t stand to look at me and my little girl…”

You didn’t expect to learn about his marital problems, let alone the fact that he was married with a child.  

“So you need a place to stay, right?”

He nods.

“Just until this small thing blows over.”

With the way his hands clutch helplessly at the air by his sides, you know this ‘small thing’ has to be colossal. But it isn’t any of your business and you hope to keep it that way.

“I already claimed the larger guestroom,” you say. “But the other’s up for grabs and so is the master suite. There’s still room in the fridge for any food you’ve brought.”

Silas rubs the back of his neck and mutters a quick “thank you”.

“I’ll be sure to stay out of your way.”

His retreating shoulders slouch, burdened by an invisible weight as he trudges off the pier towards the lake house. You release the breath you were holding in a slow, steady stream. This wasn’t part of the plan, but you’ll have to make due. You always had as a child and still could.

Before following after Silas, you turn back towards the lake just as a breeze ripples the water’s surface. Sunlight shines down on the peaceful scene.

Maris is gone.

[niwiwin]

Ryo in GQ Japan - June 2020

Scans from raveman

Note: Most of this is translated with online dictionaries, as opposed to me actually understanding the interview and writing it in English. (I can’t really read Japanese lol). I welcome corrections. Another thing, this is a magazine cover celebrity profile. The piece is somewhat editorialized, with flowerier words than what you’d find in a standard entertainment article, I think. I tried peppering with some flowery-ish words, but I’m not a writer, haha.

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF RYO NISHIKIDO

Seven months since going independent, to a place not yet seen

The True Face of Nishikido Ryo, In His Words

He launched a private firm in September of last year and started activities as a solo artist. What kind of state of mind is Nishikido Ryo in now? NOMAD - announcing an album named nomad, going on a nationwide tour, we went after the true bare-face of a former idol who just began walking to a “place not yet seen.”

Nishikido Ryo comes to a music studio, takes out a seemingly beloved acoustic guitar, and starts playing a ballad tinged with sorrow. An “adult” face of a man that he had never shown before doing solo activities. And then as if something suddenly struck his mind, he plucks the strings to the melody of “Higedance,” a staple of Shimura Ken’s.

Since the fall of last year, it has been seven months since he quit the agency he had belonged to for about 22 years since he was 12 years old. “Even when I think of wanting to be that, or do this, I'm bundled with the word idol. I’ve always been in a situation where I’m easily judged by the title, from some time ago. It has been irritating. It’s not that I hated being an idol, but it makes me think that as long as I don’t move, I will be perched there.”

A small conflict that he had been carrying. The year before last, a member of the group he belonged to left. It was upsetting and the conflict grew bigger. “If one person leaves a group, the balance unequivocally changes. Especially for twin vocals, my counterpart went away somewhere... I gotta do something, there’s nothing to do but work hard and pull everyone! was what I thought. But, I think I worked too hard. I didn’t know where each member was facing towards. I was in a state where I didn’t know how far I could aim. Everyone was was giving their all. It might have been a problem of how I felt things, but I started to feel a discrepancy between our passion and enthusiasm. Even a small discrepancy becomes tough when the discrepancy gets to an unallowable range. As for myself, I steadily got more and more exhausted.”

As he talks about the matters in his heart, his expression is serious. Every time words are about to come out, some traces of hesitation are apparent on his face. “(Regarding producing) I think I’m someone who’s passionate about it. While I do it, there are times where I would feel decisively no, I don’t think so... If so, I’ll just work hard by myself, I want to meet the challenge as long as it’s possible, I want to step on the gas fully! That’s what I thought.”

He says he has a straightforward disposition. “I can’t lie in my heart. I'm bad at playing my cards well. I want to live truthfully.”

However, leaving means losing the backing of a top-tier agency at the same time. “Of course I was anxious. I may look like this but I get scared quite a lot (lol). But when I thought what that anxiety was, in the end, isn’t it for my self protection, I thought. Now, I’m 35 years old. I can’t imagine myself doing the same thing even when I’m old. I thought I should steer the rudder while I couldn’t see the ceiling yet. I guess you could say like jumping out of a huge ship and boarding a small yacht. Up until then I was in such a huge ship that I didn’t even know the faces of the crew, didn’t know who worked in the boiler room. I was protected,” he says, without a doubt having ruminated over it time and time again.

“In all honesty, I was there for 22 years, I learned an extremely great deal. But, from here on out I'm going out into the wide world, bouncing everything off of me. I was prepared to bear all the responsibility. But you know, expectations of what’s ahead and my excitement were bigger. I think last year was when the timing of different things were on top of each other.”

On the crossroads of life, he was faced with huge choices. After quitting, he launched a private label, “NOMAD RECORDS.” Before the novel coronavirus hit, in November of last year he embarked on his first nationwide tour, the following December he released his first album, “NOMAD.” “I’m the type that moves fast after deciding things. I think a sense of swiftness is important. I want to do many things from now on, but right now, what I can transmit myself is only music. So I started from there.”

He handled all lyrics, all music, and producing himself. He says, “I’ve taken up songwriting with a guitar since when I was around 20 years old.” He puts in the feelings of his life-sized days in the songs. “If I were to sing songs by other people with half-baked singing, I’d rather give my all to melodies and words that I write. Even if I don’t sing it so well, I think it’s cooler that way. So that’s what I chose. What I made is what I will fight with, and I think all I can do now is stack up actual achievements and get recognized. I’m happy if somebody listens to my songs, feels something, and enjoys it.”

A sense of running at full speed fills up the the title song which contains the phrase, ”To a place not yet seen... This is the beginning step,” he shouts as if overflowing with emotions, during a live performance in a simple look of white T and jeans. With his sworn friend, Los Angeles resident Akanishi Jin (former KAT-TUN), they started a joint project, “N/A.” They plan to announce an album in the summer. “We have meetings every day on LINE calls.”

He himself named the record label “Nomad,” which carries the meaning nomad people or wanderers. “I guess I got it from the term nomad workers. I like it because it’s interesting as a movement of society.” (nomad workers: Japanese term for workers who don’t work in offices but in cafes or other public places with just a laptop)

His manner of living freely by his own axis really suits Nishikido who says “I hate shackles.” Born and raised in Osaka, he dropped out of high school. “It’s a city with lots of delinquents (lol). But I might have learned quite a lot of what I could have studied in school from those fellas.”

Nishikido likens his strong will to survive to weeds that are cultivated on dust covered streets. “I think once I can’t act strong, that’s it. And if I lose, that’s the end.”

Waiting For an Encounter with Film Works

Nishikido Ryo is also known as an actor with outstanding acting abilities. Even in this photo shoot, and during the interview, he speaks with his “eyes.”

From a young man committing domestic violence in the name of distorted love, a teacher that is undependable, comical acting as a time-warped samurai, etc. his repertoire is broad. Amongst all that, in a movie released in 2018, “The Scythian Lamb,” he plays a government worker in a rural town who has to face former felons with subtlety. He received high regards for that role. “Acting was where I could be as myself, away from the group. There, it makes me very happy to be evaluated as an actor and it’s something I take pride in. I’ve never been consciously particular about how I confront a role. I’ve heard that people would condition their feelings before a crying scene, but for me....that’s wrong. Feels phony. The moment I hear ‘Action!’ is when I start acting. Foreign actors that I like are Jake Gyllenhaal and Denzel Washington. One time, Denzel said, ‘I don’t embody roles,’ so cool, and I personally really relate to that. Be as oneself at that place, is what I think acting is.” (I don’t know how to translate 役作り. It means: thinking about the particulars of a role and really plan how to embody the characteristics of the role as if transforming into the role prior to filming. Almost like method acting.)

And then he says, “I think it’s about chance encounters with projects.” After a bit of silence, “But it would be really great if I could meet one (a project) as soon as possible,” he laughs. “I want to be in works I’ve never been able to until now, but I also think it’s important to do what I’ve always done until now. I’ve been getting offers, would you like to do something this, and such. But which would be good, I intend to mull over the various ways of how I appear on my first project.”

Now that he has begun rowing out across the big seas on his own, “I want to pursue things that only I as a person can do, be it music or acting,” he turns to a heated gaze. “I will run believing in myself. Just keep on running.”

[rivaltierno]

Power Failure [Chapter 3]

A mishap during a fight with Katarou results in the team getting their powers swapped. Now, in an attempt to get their proper powers back, they have to get Katarou to cooperate with them, all while dealing with new abilities they don’t know how to use - and two teammates currently out of commission due to that. A retelling of Teen Titans Go! Issue #24 with Honorary Titans.

Written for Honorary Titan Fan Week 2020, Day 4: “With the Honoraries”

Word Count: 3,588

The team’s tower wasn’t really a tower. It was the top floor of an empty building that the Titans were paying utilities on. Usually this wasn’t a problem for them, since they each got their own room and had running water, but now that they had an unwanted house guest, it became a lot more awkward.

They couldn’t just leave Katarou in their wide-open living room-kitchen combo; Even if Jinx’s guess about him being significantly weaker without his necklace was true, the empty space would give him room to move around in, and they didn’t feel like dealing with him anymore than they already had to. They couldn’t lock him away in any of their rooms, either - he might break their stuff. So the only choice of action they had was to keep him in their medical bay, which was really just a back room with a spare bed and medical kit.

Gnarrk was sent off to lock the man in there and watch over him, with Jinx following behind him towards her room.

Fortunately, neither Hot Spot or Jericho needed immediate medical attention. Or at least, Hot Spot claimed that there was nothing that could be done for either of them.

“I had heat exhaustion for days when I first got my powers,” he explained. “This is just Jericho’s body trying to cope with my powers.” Noticing that his teammates were still looking at him, he quickly added on, “And I’m just reacting to not having them anymore, that’s all.”

“You don’t think your powers have anything to do with it?” Herald asked, directing the question at Kole.

Kole wasn’t much more help. “Dunno, maybe. I was a baby when my powers started so I can’t remember.”

Herald focused their attention back on Hot Spot. “I still think you should sit down with Jericho. Rest helps with stiffness, right?”

Jericho, for jems part, forced a thumbs up, if only because watching Hot Spot pace around was making jems dizziness worse. At least staying in one spot was helping with the nausea.

“I need to be alert in case Jericho gets new symptoms,” Hot Spot argued, only partially deflecting away from himself.

“He’s right,” Jinx agreed, returning with one of her old HIVE textbooks in one hand and Kataoru’s now-shattered necklace clutched in the other. “The rest of us will take care of our little problem.” She opened up the book to its bookmarked page. “This gem is literally a textbook Capture Gem. There are hundreds of them in the world. This one is just an imitation of the original, more powerful one-”

“Which is why Kataoru was only trying to take our powers instead of capturing us directly,” Hot Spot finished.

“Exactly. I think that’s why he needed to chant to use it, too. He doesn't have the natural magic skill necessary to use it properly.” Jinx then went into full leader mode. “Kole, you go back with Gnarrk and wait for Katarou to wake up. Once he does, get him to tell you what chant he was using, since we’ll need it to get our powers back. Herald and I will fix the gem in the meantime.”

“Your powers won’t be enough to override Katarou’s spell?” Herald asked. “Since he has no magic of his own?”

Jinx shook her head. “Once a spell has been started it must be completed. Oh, and before I forget-”. Closing the textbook and slipping it under her arm, she used her now-free hand to take an extra hairband out from her pocket and tossed it over to Jericho. “That should help with your bangs sticking to you. Now, let’s get to work.”

The other three Titans left towards their respective tasks, leaving Hot Spot and Jericho in the living room.

Jericho eagerly accepted the hairband. Je slipped it onto jems head, and then rewarded jemself for exerting that much effort by leaning backwards onto the couch, hoping that stretching out a bit would help with how sticky je was feeling due to the sweat.

Hot Spot continued to pace around. He knew that his teammates were right, that he risked the chance of hurting himself by walking on stiff joints. But he also knew himself, and that if he stayed still too long he would only start dwelling on what was upsetting him, let the cold feeling consume him. And nobody wanted that. So he walked instead.

Of course he made sure Jericho was all right, too. There was a legitimate risk of jem suddenly powering up again without jem causing it; Hot Spot remembered that well. There were no outward signs of that happening, no steam coming off jems body nor was jems skin reddening, so Hot Spot would have been content to leave it at that if he hadn't realized Jericho staring back at him.

Honestly, it hadn’t even bothered Jericho that Hot Spot was watching jem during his circuit around the couch - je was doing the exact same thing to him. There really wasn’t anything else to do. Je was going to start up a conversation about Hot Spot’s powers, since je assumed that’s what he was worrying about, but je got cut off before je even got jems hands in the air.

“You should roll up your sleeves,” Hot Spot suggested, avoiding eye contact. “It’ll help.” He then went off again, though his attempts to hurry just resulted in him dragging his legs a bit. He wasn’t in the right mindset to be having any important conversations at the moment, and frankly ‘I was staring at you to find minuscule changes in your appearance’ just made him sound like a creep.

Jericho return jems gaze to the ceiling, to try and ease Hot Spot’s discomfort. Je was secretly glad je wasn’t the only one that was having a bad time with the power swap, but that doesn’t mean je wanted to make it worse for him. Je did take his advice, though, unhooking the vambraces on jems arms and pushing up jems sleeves as high as they would go. It seemed to help, as it was more direct skin exposed to the air conditioning, but by the time the second sleeve was rolled up the exhaustion part of jems heat exhaustion kicked back in and je was back to square one. Je wondered if the rest of the team was doing any better.

Jinx and Herald were. The two of them were on the floor of her room, with Jinx explaining how she wanted her plan to go.

“It's said that binding magical objects to the magic itself will make it more likely to work with the user’s demands.” She held up the textbook page again. “If you use my powers while holding the shards together and saying this spell, the gem will come back together and you can control it easier. Now, summon my magic.”

Herald sat there for a minute, trying to figure out how to. They couldn’t even get their own powers to work instantaneously like that; they had always needed their horn to act as a conduit for them, and not only because it was considered too dangerous to open space rifts on one’s own. They tried imaging what Jinx’s powers were like. Evidentially that was all it took, as a hex shot out of their hand, tearing part of the necklace strap. They looked at the results, amazed. Jinx was able to have her powers work with just a thought and no outside steps? Herald would be envious if it didn’t make them feel so pathetic.

“No, no.” Jinx scolded. “You’re turning it into hexes. You need raw magic for this work.”

She was met with a blank stare. It clicked in her mind that of course they wouldn't know what she meant by that; the only reason she knew was because she had taken an Introduction to Magic class back at HIVE Academy. She tried to explain it in a simple-but-not-condescending manner, like how she would have wanted to hear it as a child. “Raw magic is what my powers are before I do anything with them. There should be a tingly feeling running through your body - bring that out.”

Those instructions were much clearer. Herald had noticed an almost electric feeling in their body, but it was faint enough they could ignore it. They imagined Jinx using her powers again, this time how she looked pre-battle, and immediately a soft, pink glow enveloped their hands. After briefly checking to see if Jinx was satisfied with this use of power, they then got to work putting the gem back together.

As Jinx watched them do so, she felt an emotion she was not expecting: envy. She was envious that they were able to use her powers in such a calm manner, especially since it seemed like their first time with magic in general. Sure, she appreciated them taking the situation seriously, but part of her wished that they had struggled just a bit more with them. She was horrified when her powers first developed, and many, many objects were destroyed in the process of figuring out what they could do. It almost seemed unfair how quickly someone else could adapt to them.

“Got it.” Herald held up the almost-fixed necklace. The gem shards fit neatly next to one another, but need the final bit of magic to be completed. “We ready?”

Jinx nodded. “Go ahead. The spell in bold.”

Herald put on the most authoritative voice they could muster. “Tcennoc Sdrahs Meg!”

The gem seemed to pull the magic directly into itself, and after a flash of light filled up the room, it was whole again.

“Not bad,” Herald complimented themself, admiring the necklace. After a few seconds, they looked back at Jinx and noticed she was stifling a laugh. They raised an eyebrow. “What are you laughin’ at?”

“Nothing, I’m just admiring your theatrics.” Jinx teased. “Very impressive.”

They frowned at her for a second to show his disagreement, but then relaxed again as they changed the subject. “You think Kataoru is awake yet?”

“I hope so,” she answered, standing up. “And I hope that Kole and Gnarrk have already gotten the chant we need out of him.”

Kataoru was still unconscious, and Kole and Gnarrk were bored waiting for him to wake up.

The most interesting thing they had done so far was use the extra bedsheets to tie Kataoru’s arms to the bed’s headrest so he couldn’t escape once he woke up.

Gnarrk leaned against the wall in frustration, wanting something to do. He felt left out of the day’s event, being the only one to escape getting his abilities swapped. That, and he didn’t know what to feel about Kole’s temporary powers. On the one hand, it made him smile that Kole was having such a good time running around and attempting to do jump kicks. On the other hand, the idea of Kole no longer needing him to fight made him feel empty inside, even if he knew that things would go back to normal soon enough.

Kole, unlike all of her teammates, was having no qualms about her current state. She was going to enjoy this while she could, and was even considering asking Herald to teach her and Gnarrk some techniques when everything was all over.

“Do you think I can walk on my hands now?” She asked aloud to keep Gnarrk in the loop. She easily got into a handstand position, but the moment she tried to move forward her arms began to shake. The answer was evidentially no. To avoid falling on the ground, Kole titled her body forward, until she was able to move into a somersault and back onto her feet.

Coincidentally, the moment she straightened back out, Kataoru began to shift around, groaning slightly.

Kole cheered at the development. “Finally! You remember our plan? Good Cop Bad Cop?”

Gnarrk indeed did remember, and hurried to the side of the bed, ready to wallop the man over the head at Kole’s command.

She positioned herself at the end of the bed, staring Kataoru down. After underestimating him before, she wasn’t making that mistake again.

Kataoru groggily opened his eyes and attempted to stretch out. His instincts kicked in the moment he realized he couldn’t. Looking around, he noticed that he was tied up with bedsheets, and that two Titans were watching his every move. He quickly figured that if he had enough time, he could wiggle his way out of the binds, even without his necklace. After that, all he had to do was escape the room.

He focused his attention to the end of the bed. “Cute mask, little girl. Is that meant to intimidate me?”

Kole ignored his statement. “We’ll make this easy for you, Kataoru. Tell us the chant you were using and we won’t fight you again.”

He scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. You Titans only captured me because you got a lucky shot. You’d have to fight me for real to learn the spell.”

“Tell us the chant,” she repeated.

“You have to earn it. Show me you deserve to know.”

Kole held up a hand to prevent Gnarrk from acting. She didn’t want to rush it.  Instead, she gave the bed frame a firm kick, shaking it.

The bedsheets tying Kataoru to the bed loosened slightly. He could work with that. “Is that all? I barely felt that.”

“You don’t want to feel anything else.”

“Try me.”

Another firm kick towards the bed shook it even harder. The bedsheets began to slip, but Kataoru grabbed onto them so it looked like they were still tied.

“Tell us the chant!” Kole huffed.

“Let me go and we can fight for it. Perhaps then you could actually do something to me.” He was ready to pounce the moment the two let their guard down.

She waved her hand. “Fine.”

Gnarrk reached towards the bedsheets, only to suddenly stop, grin, and slam his palm against the back of Kataoru’s head.

Kataoru yelped a bit and dropped the bedsheets to hold the back of his head. His arms were then pulled back and tied again.

Kole had a matching grin on her face. “Did you really think we’d fall for that? I guess you lost your smarts when you lost your strength.”

He cursed under his breath. “Perhaps that was a foolish plan.” His smug look soon return, however. “But I have endured far worse pain than this. If you want me to talk, you’ll need a new plan as well.”

Fortunately, Kole and Gnarrk didn’t have to come up with one.

“Is our friend playing nice in here?” Jinx asked, pushing open the door. “We’d like to get this over with.”

“Nope,” Kole answered. “Any suggestions?”

Jinx shut the door behind her. “Yeah, one.” She was the only one on the team who hadn’t got to try her new powers, and she might as well get a shot at it. She didn’t know what Kole and Gnarrk had already tried to get him to give up the chant, but clearly it needed to get forced out of him.

Herald knocked on the door. “Hey, what’s your plan in there, Jinx? Did Kole and Gnarrk get him to tell them the chant? Jinx?”

She didn’t answer, and instead went straight to Kataoru. She grabbed his shirt and pressed their faces together, glaring into his eyes.

All that seemed to do was unnerve the man, and he lost the bravado in his voice. “What are you doing?”

“Are you ... trying to possess him?” Kole also questioned.

“Yes,” Jinx hissed, looking away from Kataoru. “I'm just trying to remember how Jericho does it.” She had made sure to imagine herself taking over Kataoru’s mind, but that didn’t seem to do the trick. Did jems powers not work like hers?

“Je like ... falls into people’s bodies?” Kole offered, unsure of her advice.

Jinx thought it was useful, though. She had forgotten about the physical aspect of Jericho’s powers. She turned towards Kataoru again, and noticing how creeped out he looked, gave him a wide smile for maximum effect. She stared at him again, this time remembering that she, in her physical form, was possessing his entire body. It wouldn’t be just reading his mind.

She began to fade from view, and Katarou’s eyes became washed over in pink as she did.

The scene was quiet at first, as nobody involved really knew how to react. Then Kataoru began screaming and thrashing around.

Herald slammed open the door to figure out what was going on. They saw Gnarrk holding down Kataoru and Kole clutching onto the bed frame to stop it from shaking, but no Jinx. Their first instinct was to go towards the group, but they had barely entered the room when Jinx suddenly appeared again.

Kataoru’s eyes returned back to their normal color, but his body slumped over in exhaustion.

Jinx wasn’t doing any better, Her body and mind felt light, almost empty. Except for her eyes. Her eyes felt heavy, like they were pushing into her body and cracking it open. She stood perfectly still, giving no indiction that she knew where she was.

“Jinx...?” Herald asked quietly, coming up and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Did you figure out the chant?” Kole hoped that being reminded of what she was doing would help bring her back to reality.

“Ciro ... Enyawd ... Vasarix.” Jinx breathed out. She then covered her eyes and started shrieking. She spun around and darted out of the room, knocking Herald’s hand off her shoulder in the process. She needed to find Jericho, now; The feeling in her eyes was just too much for her to bare. Even though she couldn’t see, she knew that the living room was a straight shot forward.

Hot Spot and Jericho were both startled by the screaming coming towards them.

Hot Spot, already up, went towards the noise and ended up holding onto Jinx’s shoulders to keep her steady after she ran into him. “What’s wrong Jinx? What happened?”

Jericho had a sinking feeling je knew exactly what she was panicking about, and ignoring how weak jems body felt, got up and dragged jemself to jems teammates. Je gently nudged Hot Spot aside and took Jinx’s hands away from her face.

Jinx’s eyes were wet and almost entirely red. Jericho softly, and unfortunately slowly, wiped one of them with jems thumb and showed her the results. It was just tears, but je knew perfectly well that she was concerned about it being blood. It also made perfect sense to jem that she was too disoriented to be able to notice that herself at the moment.

Herald and Kole, who had chased Jinx out of the room, slid to a stop at the sight of the three of them bunched up together.

Kole was about to say something to them, when she spotted Herald pulling something out of their pocket. “What are you doing?”

They held the necklace in the air. “I’m fixin’ this while we’re all in the same place. That’s why I told Gnarrk to stay behind, him bein’ here might throw off the spell.” Before Kole could object, they again mustered their most authoritative voice. “Ciro Enyawd Vasarix!”

A light engulfed the room. Unlike when the gem shattered, the spell didn’t knock out any of the Titans, so they were awake to feel like something was being ripped from their bodies, and then something different being shoved right back in. It was a strange feeling none of them liked, but at least it was over quickly.

Once it was, Herald put down the necklace and looked around. “Is everyone all right?”

“I am,” Hot Spot answered, his voice no longer defeated. He stepped back from Jinx and Jericho so he could admire his returned powers. The coldness and stiffness in his body were gone, replaced with a warm energy, and the higher his temperature went, the more his mood improved. He was thrilled.

“I ... think I am,” Jinx agreed, though still hesitant. The sudden switch in powers left her still disoriented, but at least she wasn’t panicking anymore.

Jericho had also improved physically once je got jems powers back. Jems heat exhaustion was completely gone, and je could move without immediately weakening. To prove it, je took off the hairband Jinx had let jem use and handed it back to her.

“All of our clothes are back to normal too, so I guess that means it worked.” Kole chimed in. “All that’s left is to decide what to do with Kataoru.”

Herald thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “I mean, we can't really take him to jail, can we? We did agree to fight him in the first place.”

“Drop him back off at the park,” Jinx suggested quickly, ready for this situation to be done with. “I think I scared him enough that he won’t try us again.”

There was a general agreement with this plan, so Herald shrugged again and went back to the medical bay.

Soon after, the group heard a fanfare echo throughout the building, and they knew that they would be able to put this all behind them in a couple of minutes. Maybe one day they might discuss everything they learned about themselves and each other like good teammates would, but at the moment, they weren’t in the mood to.

[writeanapocalae]

Inktober: Secret Injury

It was an odd day, in the fact that it was completely and utterly normal. Sure the world was acting like it was ending, riots and fires in the streets, a civil war between the naturals and augs, but inside Sarif Industries, there was nothing going on. Adam was wandering the halls, considering going through the vents just to make it a little bit more interesting, but then people would think there was an issue and that it was worthwhile to stress out. This was a safe space. He wasn’t going to alter it.

So he knocked on Francis’ door instead of hacking his way in. It was such a benign issue, a few customers having tried to return parts to a LIMB clinic only to find that their cards were all attached to the same account. For those four it was a big issue, a lack in security and a threat to their identities, but for a corporation like there’s it was hardly anything. It was more Francis’ job that Adam’s. But Adam was the one who knew about it and he’d been asked by Sarif himself to get it dealt with before it went to the press.

The opacity wasn’t completely up on the windows to Francis’ office, but they were somewhat tinted. It was clear that the man wanted his privacy. He always did. But if he was asleep the windows would be fully darkened and he wouldn’t be able to see him. He was sitting at his desk, leaning forward, curled in on himself. He was working hard on something, his posture got worse the more intense he was.

“It’s open!” Francis called out and Adam opened the door. It was rarely unlocked. Francis didn’t turn as he entered, his attention fully on his work. “What is it?”

“Good to see you too, Francis,” Adam cocked his hip, crossing his arms.

Francis still didn’t turn towards him. “Jensen,” he sounded genuinely surprised though his voice didn’t hold the usual hint of malice. He sounded run down, if anything. Adam had heard him close to exhaustion and far past it many times. This sounded worse, if that was possible. “How can I help you?”

That stopped him in his tracks. Francis had never asked him that. He’d never been this polite, this cordial. Something was wrong here. Something was different. He pulled his lenses back, took a step forward. He was tempted to turn on his CASIE but he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t use that on friends.

He and Francis weren’t friends, too many years of dirty water under the bridge, but they weren’t enemies either, nor competitors. He’d tried to be Francis’ friend, not in the beginning but a few years in. Things hadn’t improved much.

“Careful there, Francis, you’re almost sounding like a human being.”

There was a slight flinch in Francis’ shoulders, then a tilt of the head, but he was turning even further out of Jensen’s view.

“Would you get on with it? Some of us have work to do. I thought that, if I asked nicely, you’d spit it out and be on your way.”

He drew even closer. He didn’t like the idea that Francis was hiding something from him. It was very clear that he was though. He put his hand on the desk and told Francis about the mishap with the LIMB clinic, studying the edge of Francis’ face. He wasn’t looking at his computer, as busy as he seemed to be. He as primarily turned away, not wanting Adam to see his face. His hair looked like it was a mess, shoved back into the band within a rush. His right hand lay limply in his lap.

“Is that all this is?” Francis sighed. “You could have sent me an email for that.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to tease you,” Adam smirked.

That got Francis to turn, to glare at him, but he caught himself before the entirety of his black eye came into view. Still, Adam could see how swollen it was before Francis turned back away from him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Francis all but spat. “If you were to go back to your office I can get onto this little breach in security for you.”

He knew Francis didn’t want attention on it, he knew when the man was being stubborn and when he was genuinely wanting to hide away from things. You didn’t know someone for eight years without picking up on that sort of thing. And this, right here and now, was hiding. He didn’t want Adam to know that he was hurting.

And Adam wasn’t going to let him hide it.

He put his hand on Francis’ shoulder and the man jumped so hard, curling away from him, and he could see his teeth from how tightly he was grimacing.

“Let me see?” he tried to sound kind but this was Francis, it was hard not to slip into a voice that sounded like he was pitying.

“It’s not a big deal,” Francis argued. “You can go be Prince Charming for some other princess.”

“Heh, I’d like to see whoever’s stupid enough to call you Princess.”

Francis looked at him again. It wasn’t just his eye that was swollen but a swath of his cheek. There was blood on his face too, where it had been wiped away from his nose. He looked a bit of a mess. “You’d be surprised how many times I’ve been called that.”

Adam didn’t need the light to see by, not with his eyes, but in order to get detail it was easier with a lamp on. He pressed the switch under Francis’ desk to get the lights up, so he could see what he was working with. The nose didn’t look broken any and his cheekbones were sharp enough that whoever had hit him there probably hurt themselves more than they did him.

“You know who did this?”

Francis shrugged and winced. “Who knows and who cares? Just some punk kids out in the riots.”

Adam flicked his thumb over the darkening bruise on his cheek, light enough that he barely got a hiss out of Francis. He was telling the truth, probably. He’d never come in like this before. The wince made him nervous though, meant there was more damage that wasn’t on his face.

“You mind taking off your shirt for me?” he asked.

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood for a strip tease right now,” Francis sighed. There was supposed to be more of a fight there, more of a bite.

Adam reached down, grabbed the lapels of Francis’ jacket and started to gently tug it off of him. He didn’t miss the way that Francis bit his lip, how he was looking everywhere except for at Adam, how he shuddered when he got to that shoulder that Francis was favoring. He went slow, tried to be gentle. Even his breath seemed like it was hitting Francis too hard.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Francis wheezed, putting a hand on Jensen’s chest and pushing him gently away. “Don’t you have some walls to push through?”

“I need to see,” Adam pressed, “Or would you prefer I got a medic?”

Francis looked at the floor for a moment just breathing. Eventually he sighed and relaxed a bit more. “You, I guess.”

“Then you’ve got me,” Adam gripped the jacket a little bit harder and, with one solid tug he pulled it off of Francis’ arm, making him yip in the surprising onslaught of pain. Adam wrapped an arm around the back of his head and pulled him in, burying the unmarred side of Francis’s face against his chest. He shushed him as he ran fingers through his hair, trying to distract him from the pain.

“I think...” Francis finally breathed. “I think my shoulder’s dislocated.”

Adam couldn’t see it. Francis was still wearing his turtleneck, but guessing from his reaction to taking off the jacket he agreed.

He took up the hem of Francis’ shirt. It was both easier and harder to pull it up over his head. He could move it without having to jostle the arm as much but he also had to look at Francis’ chest. There were scars there, ink, a few odd ports, all hidden under more swelling and bright red bruises, too fresh and painful to change to purple and green. There were boot prints where Francis had been kicked so hard that the pattern had made their own distinct bruises. The swelling around those marked ribs were worse that the rest.

“You’re augmented,” Adam breathed, tracing the outline of a rectangular port right next to Francis’ heart.

“No, really?” Francis pulled a face and pulled his shirt down along the length of his wounded arm. “I thought they were beating me up for my good looks.”

Adam could see the gap in Francis’ shoulder, between one joint and the next. He put his hand on the part that had dislocated, remembering the way that the bones were supposed to settle. “This is going to hurt.”

“I know,” Francis breathed through his nose.

Francis leaned against his chest, clinging onto him with his uninjured arm. Adam breathed and counted and just before Francis could tense he shoved the limb up and back into the socket. There was another yelp, though Adam doubted their coworkers would be able to ignore this one. He ran his hand down Francis’ shoulder blades and down his back.

Pain was something that Adam was used to but he didn’t bear the marks of it. They all faded so fast. Francis didn’t have a healing factor; there was only so much a healing hypo would do, mostly topical. Still, he sprayed Francis’ chest down with it, noting how his breathing calmed down once it started to numb him.

“Come on,” Adam urged, pulling himself up to his full height. He left his hand extended, an invitation.

Francis stared at it, then up at him. “Where are you taking me?”

“Over to the couch,” he shrugged, “You need to rest up. I can’t believe you came in today, looking like that.”

Francis wrapped both arms around himself. He shuddered, cold. “I wasn’t going to just come half way, get beat up, and turn around.”

Adam took off his jacket and extended his hand again. “It’s a slow day, no one’s going to fault you taking it easy.”

Francis exhaled sharply and there was an expression on his face that was hard for Adam to read. It was hurt yes, but not physical and not directed at anything. There was definitely something wrong with his ribs but this hurt was something even deeper.

He finally took Adam’s hand and allowed himself to be led to the small couch. It was obvious that he wasn’t expected Adam to lay down and offer his own chest, his own heat, for Francis, but he did. Francis stared at the door and back the invitation before sighing, shaking his head, and laying down as comfortably as he could on top of Adam. The moment the coat was placed on top of both of them he was asleep.

[tuliptx]

Outlaw Woman Ch2

Rated M - this is a serious rating y’all. There’s derogatory terms and sex and violence. The MC world is not a soft place but I won’t water it down.

Lexi is constantly finding herself in the middle- She belongs with the SOA, family is everything, but finding her role within that family is hard. She has to find a balance and a place before she just teeters over the edge and gets lost in the madness. Love, Lust, Violence, and Hilarity.

Jax x OC x Happy - David Hale x OC

Hey guys! Lets act like we’ve done this before ok? No copying my work- I don’t own SOA etc etc. I LOVE Lexi. I put a lot of myself in her and I would adore your feedback. Check out my Master List Here. 

Happy locked eyes with Lexi as he slid his calloused, masculine, strong right hand under her left knee. Lexi couldn't help the sudden intake of breath, her lips parting ever so slightly. The room suddenly felt way too small. No man had ever made her nervous like Happy did. She had no idea what to do with that. It had been years since their one night. One night of mindless pleasure. No names had been exchanged. No club affiliation ever discussed. That night had gone completely unacknowledged even after they realized. Verbally at least. It was for the better.

Thank God he wasn't around more because as is, these moments are getting far too frequent. As his hand slid slowly but with purpose down her calf lifting her ankle onto his jean clad knee she held her breath. He lifted it just off his knee sliding the ice pack under to cool it from behind where it looked to be the most bruised. "Hand me that gauze." His voice was slightly deeper than normal- less raspy. She nodded dumbly and then, and then the most embarrassing thing ever, she let out a loud hiccup that was so violent it actually caused her to bounce slightly off the bar.

Lexi was mortified; she couldn't look up at him. She hadn't even had warning enough to cover her mouth. Her face immediately began to heat up and she handed him the gauze as quickly as she could before taking a long pull from the bottle of Jack at her side tossing the lid across the room. This day had been exhausting- she had every intention of making it all go away by drinking as much of this bottle as she could. 'At least the hiccup had killed that moment before anyone could walk in on that super sexy eye contact,' she thought.

Her leg was so smooth and warm from the sun. Happy's mind went blank when she bounced- he'd been captivated by the jiggle of her DDs. Really, he had to get ahold of himself. If Tig kept catching him staring like this- it'd be his nuts. Especially now that she had an old man. His eyes wandered over a fresh piece of ink on her calf. She was lucky her boots had protected it. A beautiful reaper curved along her calf. The style very reminiscent of the one painted on the door- this one held more color. It was centered in a golden frame with the shadows of crows dancing behind its head and in its extended palm instead of the traditional anarchy sign it held a glowing sacred heart. He had to rein this shit in. Happy didn't like being out of control of anything- with Lexi he felt he was out of control of EVERYTHING. From the moment he’d arrived in Charming five years ago only to learn that sweet wild delicious piece of ass he’d fucked on the road was actually Tig’s sister, he’d been fighting to get a solid grip on things. She never followed direction, she was always putting herself in bad situations, she was ever chasing adventure and danger. That he was attached to her in the slightest was dangerous. EVERTHING about Lexi was dangerous for him.

"So what was all of that about?" he distracted as he began to gingerly wipe the blood off of her leg, putting slight pressure on the scrapes to stop the bleeding. "Fucking idiot probably should have done this first," he muttered. Lexi laughed, "yeah well you know my brother- more bullets then brain." Hap smirked nodding his head and continuing to work on her- long golden soft warm- leg. "That stick in Tara's ass has been super-sized lately. It's starting to affect the functionality of her brain." Hap glanced up at her, "but why? Why you?" Lexi scoffed taking another pull off her bottle, "I honestly don't know where this started. She's always hated me, but since she came back- she wants me dead." She took another pull, "Jax definitely isn't helping things. This reminds me I have to find a new place to hide my key." "Wasn't your old man mad when he showed up like that?" Lexi almost shot whiskey out her nose- which burns for a very long time if you've never done it. "What old man? What have you been smoking Hap and can I have some?" Hap reached into his pocket with his left hand using his right to apply light pressure. He fished out a joint and handed it over and she giggled in delight.

After a deep inhale, holding the smoke in her lungs, "What're you talking about Hap?" her accent continued to thicken with each vice she partook in. He gently tapped her tattoo and then ran a finger firmly down one side of the frame. "OH!" She was becoming more animated; her hands were now flying as she was speaking to him causing some of the booze to slosh out. "No, I got that just for me. It's not a crow. I got shot six months ago, Clay and Gem and Tig and the boys all said I earned my own reaper. I had to make it a little more girly though. I'm just not the kind of girl to rock anything overly masculine." Happy's brain had stopped on the shot part, "see this is what I'm talking about! How the hell did you get shot?" Lexi's eyebrows furrowed as she leaned forward, "what you're talking about?" He shook his head, "How the hell did you get shot?" She leaned back eyeing him suspiciously but in her buzzed state quickly let it go shrugging and smiling, "drive by." She unbuttoned the top button on her blouse allowing her to shift the collar so he could see the vibrant pink shiny new flesh where she had taken the bullet. And also a good flash of skin and pink lace. Happy shook his head. Focus. He took the bottle from her taking a long pull only to realize she’d already knocked back more than half of it. Well that wasn’t good.

Focus. He hadn't heard of a drive by. "Drive by where?" "Oakland." "What the fuck were you doing in Oakland?" "I had a meeting with a gallery in Oakland. I sold three paintings- Jax took me to a bar after to celebrate." "What the fuck?"

Jax should know better than that.

He had put Lexi in danger.

He had started this thing with Tara too.

Lexi was the artist of the door and the tattoo. Well that made her hotter. Fuck.

Happy filed it away at the look of confusion on Lexi's face. Her blue eyes were sharp, even in her inebriated state. He schooled his features trying to look casual. He'd have to ask around about this when she wasn't around. Something about all of this didn't seem right. What the hell was Jax thinking- or better yet what was Jax thinking with?

Before he could even process all of this new information two things happened: One, Tig, the Prospect and Chibs came laughing and rough housing out of the dorms; two, the front door to the club house was thrown open with a loud BANG. Gemma cut a formidable figure in her bitch heels; large black hobo bag slung over her shoulder. "Little girl, you have a lot of explaining to do!" Lexi was immediately off the bar forgetting her swollen foot and leaving the half smoked joint in an ash tray. The pain immediately reminded her why she’d been smoking it in the first place and she reached out gripping Happy's shoulder for support. He stood and maneuvered her to his stool. The way the two moved with each other was so natural- the all-seeing mother bear quirked an eyebrow, not missing a thing. Happy pulled up a second bar stool and lifter her foot; replacing the ice pack, only when she was situated did he step away. Then again Alexia is family and Happy was notoriously protective of SOA family- especially the women. Though, no one would ever label him a nurturer. Gemma filed this new observation away for a later date.

"You fucking broke the doc's nose! You better have a damn good reason!" Gemma scolded charging toward her beloved pseudo daughter. "Gemma you know me better than that! The bitch started something she didn't have the ass to back up." "Why the fuck would she do that Lex? Jax was at your house last night! That's why!" Happy’s shoulders tensed and he leaned back against the bar staring at the juke box intently. Lex rolled her eyes, "that's an issue you should take up with your son." Gemma threw her purse on the counter, "I would if I could but he's too busy talking Tara down." Lexi threw her hands up, "this is nuts! Why do I have to defend myself when I was just defending myself!" "Lex, you know I’ve always thought you were better for Jax then that little tart, but when you sleep with another woman's old man she has every right to give you hell. You screwed up you should take it!" Lexi, now seeing red, threw that mother fucking bottle of booze against the wall behind Gemma who covered her head and stared at her pseudo daughter in shock. "I didn't do shit!" The entire club was silent in the wake of the bottles shatter.

Tig came up behind Lex quietly, putting an affectionate and comforting hand on her shoulder. Her chest was heaving from screaming and a tear of rage sank down her cheek. Lexi was not an angry girl but she had a temper that she struggled with at times- one that had been passed down to both of his children by Dan Trager. Chibs turned to the Prospect, "go get me medics bag." Half Sack nodded and slipped out of the room silently, relieved to be anywhere but here. "You know what Gem?" came a low soft lilting Texas accent, "If I had slept with Jax, yes, Tara would have every right. I have never slept with Jax. I don't intend to sleep with Jax. I. Don't. Want. Him." She took another long deep breath and the queen opened her mouth as if to say something but quickly shut it. "Jax," Lexi was disgusted, "broke into my house last night. I had no idea he was there until the morning. I am sick,” her voice hitched, “I am sick and tired of your fucking son putting me in the middle." Lexi looked up from where her eyes had been glued to her lap. Making eye contact with Gemma, Gemma felt her spine go cold at a look that was violent and fed up. "Tara jumped me- pulled me off the bike- Jax did nothing- I defended myself. That is the last time I am saying it to you Gemma. Believe who you want."

Gemma sat down in the nearest chair with a dramatic sigh. “Well why didn’t you just say so.”

Lexi closed her eyes and took a deep breathe trying to calm herself. Happy noticed that her hands were clenched and shaking. TIg glanced at the Killer and followed his dark stare. He lovingly, gently pried her fingers apart and rubbed his thumbs over the crescent imprints from her nails. Chibs made his move then, the medic's bag appearing in his hand. Got to give it to the Prospect, he had come and gone with no one noticing. Chibs moved to Lexi's side examining her scrapes. "We need to clean these honey and then we need to take a look at that ankle, see if it's broken." Lexi nodded allowing the Scott to clean and bandage the wound on her thigh in silence but not before she scooped up Happy's abandoned beer on the bar and downing it in one go and taking a long hit off the joint. "When I know what's goin on with your ankle, I'll give you something for the pain and to chill your nerves love." Lexi gave him a thin smile before carefully putting the now significantly shorter joint between the Scotts lips who gave her a roguish smile in return. “I’m good,” she muttered.

From her spot at a table Gemma lit a cigarette massaging her temples as she puffed and puffed. 

[s3mag]

SEMA is a hard show at which to properly appreciate cars. On one hand – it’s a show overflowing with some of the best builds you will see all year. On the other hand – it’s that same overflow that makes it almost impossible to keep your wits about you. It’s almost too much of a good thing. In a sea of thousands of cars, I feel like some inevitably get lost. The great thing is: The cars that are truly memorable, the cars you are talking about weeks and months after the show… are cars which rise above the temporary flash-in-the-pan Instagram fame. Some cars deserve to be immortalized. More than digital noise or passing fancy, they draw their inspiration from the timeless. The classic. 

  This 240Z certainly qualifies as one of these cars. While it has some innovations and forward thinking design elements, it also honors the tradition and legacy of Datsun’s Z car heritage. Car owner Dennis wanted a Z that could be as menacing on the street as it was on the track. In looking to manifest his dreams into reality, he was fortunate enough to meet aspiring builder Kyle Kuhnhausen. Kyle is a fresh out of business school automotive entrepreneur with a penchant for metal work. Ok, more than a penchant… he has a gift.  From the paint scheme to the heavily gusseted cage, this car is well thought out & beautifully executed. How well executed? Well, when we talked he made sure I knew that the LS swap was a place holder engine until they built something truly epic for under the hood. WOW. Some place holder. 

Let’s take a moment and revel in my three favorite aspects of this car. 

  First) 

There is the paint scheme. Nimbus Grey (or battle ship grey in some parlance) has to be my personal favorite hue on show cars. It’s rich, it allows shadows to adopt a deep dark over tone, and light reflections to be silvery & pronounced. Every truly beautiful design looks amazing in this color. So… win number one? CHECK! The Peter Brock homage striping is as evocative and respectful of the Z’s motorsport heritage as it is a tasteful modern touch of racer bravado. I dig it. Those famous side stripes actually start on the hood at the vents and then cascade over the fender and down the side forming the Brock stripes we are all familiar with. A killer design cue that is at once forward thinking and period correct. Nicely done. 

Second) 

Let’s talk about that metal work. The Aero is mean, functional, and gives the car a seriously provocative stance. What’s more – it’s designed to just rip/break away cleanly in the case of a momentary lapse in driver skill (for example paying a visit to say, China Beach at the end of the straight at Mid Ohio). Well played Kyle, well played. However, as fantastic as that aero is, it is nothing compared to the beautifully executed roll cage. Meant to be a street car that can participate is serious track time… it had to be a car from which Dennis could easily get in and out. Kyle kept the safety high by fabricating one seriously artful, yet stout, fully gusseted integrated cage. Take a few moments and look at the cage in this car. I have severe race car envy. My race car has race car envy. Seriously. It is so good that it easily merits adjectives like superlative, excellent, exemplary. Bravo. 

Third) 

And this is one where so many cars sort of take a pass… the gauge cluster. When a car has track day toy duties, it’s easy to just pick up a digital display, mount it up, and just call it done. Not in this car. The cluster in this car is 13 individual pieces of aluminum lovingly hand shaped into what you see before you. It honestly called to mind some of the extreme and bespoke modern interpretations currently en vogue built around the Porsche 911. The Singer cars being the most notable, they take an air cooled 911 and massage every aspect of the car… and polish, preen, & refine it until it is absolutely jewel-like. The perfect 911. Well, that’s where this Z took me. It’s like a really nice 240Z… only polished to the highest possible degree. Everywhere you look there are tasteful touches. This instrument cluster exemplifies that. The angle at which it is canted toward the driver, the alignment of it inside the MOMO wheel. It’s absolutely glorious. 

So yeah, this car is one of the highlights of last year’s SEMA show. It truly was. Bespoke modern takes on past classics are hot right now. Cars like the Singer 911s are fetching 500k and more per unit, so it makes builds like this kind of a serious proposition. Get it right and the value and classic status is legitimate. In the end, Dennis can drive this car on the road or the track, confident in the fact that he found the perfect enthusiast to execute his vision. And he can rest well in the fact that he’s now driving the Singer of Datsun 240Zs.

InZanity 240Z

CHASSIS

1972 Datsun 240z shell

10-point fully tig welded roll cage featuring flared hole body tie-in gussets 

Lower jacking & towing points welded to bottom of main cage shelfs 

Every unibody seam is fully stitch-welded inside & out, and seam sealed

All top strut mounts replaced with camber adjustable heavy duty plates

Pre-load adjustable tie-rod strut braces featured in engine bay

Tig welded fuel cell cradle with integrated rear center mount tow hook

Rear sub-mounted battery with remote charging points and kill switch

Custom tig welded engine & transmission mounts. Optimized center of gravity

50/50 weight distribution

Bolt-in aluminum transmission tunnel stiffeners / driveshaft hoops

Integrated scraping points for oil pan protection

BODY MODS

Trackspec Motorsports heat extracting louvers on hood & front fenders

Front fender-exit side exhaust with custom alloy diffusing louvers

Rear rockers clearanced for functional rear brake vents, and lowered 1.25”

Fender & rear emblems shaved

Antenna & side marker lamps shaved

CNC billet aluminum laser engraved KMC tail lamp insets

CNC billet aluminum quarter panel vent emblems featuring modernized “Z”

Rear bumper & mounts shaved

Symmetrical rear body pan recess, opposed to unsymmetrical stock recess

Front bumper shaved & swissed with dimple die punched holes

Reinforced rear hatch for functional spoiler mounts

Rear quarter panel turbulent air extraction holes with alloy bezels added

Wide “ZG” style flares, adding 6” of width to the rear fender wells

All body gaps cut, welded, and staked. 

Shaved hood springs & streamlined hinges

Show grade bodywork 

One-piece front & rear windscreen gaskets

POWER 

GM 2004 LS1 engine with T56 6-speed manual transmission

Modified & ported 1.625” primary headers ceramic coated in gold

Bespoke 2.5” Fully pie-cut and tig welded exhaust with front X-pipe (167 weld joints)

Dual 8” sectioned Magnaflow Corvette style mufflers mounted in front wheel wells

Improved Racing 180 degree oil cooler thermostat with 400hp Setrab cooler

Holley Coil on Cover valve covers

Radium Engineering FCST fuel cell surge tank and full fuel system

Vibrant Performance –AN fuel lines 

Modified stock throttle body with Lokar stainless throttle cable

Custom 4” aluminum air intake with K&N filter outside engine bay 

Aluminum crossflow radiator with 16” Flex-A-Lite electric fan and custom shroud

Modified Hurst short shifter with KMC integrated transmission fluid top-fill

Centerforce single disc clutch

ACT Clutch Prolite lightweight flywheel

Custom one-piece driveshaft

Infinity Q45 R200 differential with VLSD limited slip unit and 3:54 final drive ratio

Nissan Armada CV axles

BRAKES

6-piston Wilwood front calipers & 4-piston Wilwood rear calipers

Fully functional ram-air 3” brake ducting to all 4 corners with custom caliper hats

ASD Motorsports hydraulic 16” e-brake system with braided -3an lines

Wilwood billet master cylinder with modified vacuum booster assembly

Optimized pedal box with reduced weight and improved pedal placement

3/16” Stainless hardlines and -3an braided flex lines

Wilwood proportioning valve with hidden custom mount

Remote Wilwood proportionating valve in-cabin adjustment knob custom retrofit

Custom aluminum master cylinder heat shield

SUSPENSION

Full Arizona Z-Car “Track Pack” billet aluminum adjustable suspension

Arizona Z-Car struts with coilover adjustable springs, modified for tire clearance

Apex Engineered bump steer adjustment kit and high steer knuckles.

Full polyurethane bushings

Modified front crossmember for improved roll center

ST Suspension front & rear sway bars with Energy Suspension polyurethane bushings

5 Lug converted hubs with front Wilwood spindles

ARP chromoly extended wheel studs

Stitch welded and reinforced front crossmember

  AERO

Custom HDPE adjustable front air splitter with alloy radiator and brake dams 

Custom HDPE adjustable rear diffuser with jacking point & air straighteners

Custom HDPE 6” side splitters with exhaust vent & rear brake vents integrated

Aluminum tunnel underbelly, mostly flat under entire car

Pitch adjustable 3-piece rear deck spoiler with Ringbrother’s micro hinges

ARP carbon fiber micro mirrors

Lexan headlamp aerodynamic fillers

4 Piece aluminum radiator ducting with cabin air ducts integrated

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ELECTRONICS

Street and Performance engine wiring harness with reflashed stock ECU

Braille lightweight I25X lithium battery

Bowler Performance phantom key with Honda s2000 push button starter

Fully custom KMC chassis wiring harness

Fully integrated Passport 9500ci radar detector system

Alpine double-din 6” monitor with frenched backup camera, navigation, and satellite radio

Dakota Digital VHX-1100 competition dash with 16 digital readouts

Dakota Digital BIM 1 OBDII gauge interface

EPAS electronic power steering integrated into Woodward steering column with input potentiometer knob on dash

Custom carbon aircraft-style switch panel with u-shaped toggle protectors

Quick Latch removable main electronics panel featuring Marine resettable circuit breakers

  WHEELS / TIRES

18” CCW 3-piece LM20 wheels with gloss black lips, satin black centers, and ARP bolts (18×10 front 18×11 rear)

BFGoodrich Rival S 200tw extreme performance tires (275/35zr18 front 315/30zr18 rear)

Gorilla extended race lug nuts

INTERIOR

MOMO Super Cup FIA homologated seats and alloy brackets

MOMO 350mm MOD. 07 suede steering wheel

MOMO 6pt. harnesses

MOMO quick release hub w/ bespoke manually machined adapter to race column 

Highly modified pedal box

Longacre 17” wide rear view mirror

Bowler performance billet shift knob and lever

Aluminum bead-rolled hexagonal pattern fuel cell fire wall

Custom alloy center console, and 3-piece alloy bespoke quick removable dash 

Smoothed transmission tunnel

Bespoke flared-hole heel plates

Flared-hole fabricated dead pedal and geometry optimized clutch and brake pedals

Custom heater with 4 vents hidden under removable dash

Hexagonally stitched suede door cards with carbon fiber aircraft riveted inserts

  PAINT (All Axalta Refinishes Products)

Chromax Mosaic SBBC B9*01 – Color: Ford Stealth Grey

Imron 3.5 HG+ Polyurethane RH-3714 – Color: Gray 057

LF Epoxy DTM Primer Gray 2540S

Chroma Base “4 to 1” 2K Urethane Primer Filler Gray 7704S

Chroma Priemier Premium Appearance Clearcoat 72500S

Epoxy DTM Activator Medium Temp 2505S

Basemaker Medium Temperature 7175S

Activator-Reducer 60-70 Degree 7765S

Plas-Stick Flexible Additive 2350S

Chroma Premier Pro Normal Activator 14305S

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OTHER

Rear sub-mounted SPA Technique fire suppression tank with 6 nozzles in cabin/engine

2-piece removable front chassis-mount tow hook

Proprietary differential snout oiling system with Tilton commercial pump and Setrab cooler

Functional side hood winglet to integrated tig welded alloy coolant expansion tank

Dual “II Much fabrication” differential and fuel system vents with custom bracketry and aluminum hard lines.

Extensive use of ARP 12 Pt. stainless fasteners

  Text by Tim Neely   Photos by Dominick Barbero

InZane in the Membrane: Datsun 240Z SEMA is a hard show at which to properly appreciate cars. On one hand - it’s a show overflowing with some of the best builds you will see all year.