#trying to figure out how to censor this was a task and a half

[askinkiskarma]

if anybody has ever read cruel summer, i hope you're gonna be even a tenth as excited as I am about this incredible drawing by the amazing @oakbuggy of a scene from the second chapter of my story. this was honestly one of the absolute best birthday presents i've ever gotten (not only cause i get to stare at two hot people for prolonged periods of time), and i will cherish it forever and ever. thank you to all the beautiful, incredible, phenomenal pookies (@sulieykte, @jakexneytiri, @pandoraslxna, @blue-slxt, @neteluvr, @tiredmamaissy, @neteyamsoare, @neteyamsyawntu) i am fortunate enough to call friends for commissioning this piece for my birthday.

enjoy, besties x

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E2; Chapter Two, The Mall Rats - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Baffled with Mike's sudden behavior, El seeks out Y/n and Max for advice while Will struggles to get through to Mike and Lucas. Billy takes his co-worker on a field trip, and Steve and Dustin enlist a helpful ally in their top-secret mission.

WARNINGS: possible allegory to r*pe when the mind flayer does his little ✨ possessing ✨. It's not meant to sound like it, but when I wrote Will getting possessed I'm pretty sure some people compared it to that and I just want to be sure yall are safe reading this so [■■■■■■] these guys are back. Hope this helped! + oh yeah also brief mention of gore and v*mit [yes I censored that, let's move on] but they all fit inside the warning markers.

A/n: can't remember if I put this before but f/d = favorite drink

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

An eerie silence stretches across the town of Hawkins, from the bustling new heart in Starcourt Mall all across town to the edge of its grassy hills. Sitting in the shadows of these grasslands, tucked in with blankets of discarded steel and machinery all being pulled back into the earth to be properly claimed is the stomach of the town; Brimborn.

Unlike the heart, it is shrouded in darkness, death, and decay. It sits abandoned just miles off the main roads and welcomes nothing but trouble. Once nothing but an empty husk of potential had long since reared its head and swallowed a darkness—the sickness of Hawkins—that now resides deep in the belly to be digested.

And it had just gotten its first taste in months.

Billy Hargrove stumbles out of the darkness of the steel stairway and into the forgiving light of the moon.

His face nearly collides with the concrete on at least three occasions in the time it takes him to run back to his car. His adrenaline spikes with every frantic beat of his heart and heaving of his lungs. The rubber soles of his boots punch the concrete, only hammering in the fear of being pulled back under. He can't understand what he just saw, nor can he hold off the feeling of nausea brewing in his gut much longer as he fumbles for his keys in his pocket.

It would seem he has enough luck to get inside the car and start it. The sound of tires squealing against the pavement is music to his ears. He's back on the road just as soon, head pounding painfully as he tries to keep his shaking hands that grip the wheel from throwing him off the road. And they are able to do so for several minutes—several minutes of Billy choking down air and adrenaline while the smell of burning diesel from his car stings the back of his throat. And yet still it wasn't the worst sensation in his mouth by far. He could still taste the rot sitting on his lips and tongue... from that... that thing...

He doesn't know where he's going apart from away—as far away as he could get from Brimborn until he sees a box of light in the distance just off the side of the road. A payphone. He could call someone. Hell, if this thing was chasing him—if it got him someone should at least know what little he did. His car lurches off the road with one swift yank on the wheel and suddenly his tires are screaming against the asphalt again. Clumsily Billy throws open his door and tumbles out onto the streets, stumbling to the payphone he had spotted.

He's already on the phone before he realizes; time was still moving in blurs catching every other moment as he blacked out. Yet another miracle he managed to make it down the road safely in his car. Billy's chest heaves up and down as he drowns in panic, trying so desperately to get ahold of each breath.

His eyes, bloodshot and wild, sweep the darkened streets and he jumps when a soft click goes off in his ear.

"911, what's your emergency?"

At once, everything comes back to Billy, still in flashes.

He remembers a lurch in his gut when the car spun out, followed by a searing pain in his temple that spread throughout his skull in a dull ache. He can smell smoke from the busted engine. It was covering up a smell of rot and sewage and... and an overwhelming sense of copper like an old change jar. It was similar to the smell coming from the blood running down his face. Its texture almost similar to the slime he felt on his fingertips when he saw the state of his windshield.

Another lurch in his heart when something shrill cried out as it scurried by.

And then his face was in the dirt. Something had hooked his leg and reeled him in. Billy remembers the pain of his nails clawing at the dirt. And then concrete and then metal stairs. He can feel it all burning his stomach too like road rash. A blood-curdling scream tore from his throat as his fingers burned, they were in searing pain as they clung so desperately to the iron doorway where they eventually lost their battle.

[■■■■■■]

What followed never held the absence of more pain, that was all he knew. From his chin colliding with every metal step, to the thousands of tiny feet clawing at his body as the swarm closed in. And ultimately the unbelievable anguish of that thing invading every cell in his body. It all happened so fast, even in the moment and he was left but nothing but the horrifying image of a bloodied tentacle attacking his face.

Every attempt at a scream was shoved back down his throat along with the dark and bloodied mass spewing from its insides like icy vomit. He could feel it going everywhere, soaking through into his bloodstream and it traveled throughout his body.

[■■■■■■]

And just as Will Byers had experienced half a year ago; Billy felt every essence of warmth cease to be, and all that existed was icy darkness. And there it remained.

He could feel it even now as he stood underneath the flickering lights of the phone booth.

I̵̢͖̘̪̞̻̜͍̪͛̌͘͝s̴̮͈̮̟̮̥͔̃͘ ̶͉̂͛ş̷̳͉͖͖̠͉͉͇͖͆ó̴̝̰͉̟͙̘̝̥̲͂͌̒̿̅͝͝m̵̖̐̌̽̐͋̊̏͝e̵̛̜̘̰̫̩̋̅̊ͅo̷̢̫̻͙͕̫͚̮̅͗̃̃̐͊̋̕͜͠ǹ̶̡̞͖̪̯͉͓̖̜̳̉͝e̷̬̞̣̝̬͕̱̫͊̏ ̴͕̇̌͆͑̄͋̄t̴͎̯̥͉͌̕h̶̹̚͜e̴̯͔͓̬̗̞̥̳̠͜͠r̶̨̬͎̬̙͉̩͐͜ë̸̥̣̺̘̭́̇̽̉̓̐̕͘?̵̼̠͛̋ ̸̪͒͋H̸̭̺̞̬̖̎̓̇̐͆͐̚͝͠ͅe̸̢̲͎̭͊̄͗̌͌͝l̶͉̉͜͜ḽ̵̠̟̻̅̏͗̏̒̌͜͝o̵̖̙̼͓̽̓̎?̶̩̱͎͍͉͓̅̑̈͋͝

Darkness. That was all that was left after the distorted voice died out with the rest of the booth. His eyes flew everywhere, but not for long. An impossible chill fell over his already frozen body when he realized what was so wrong.

The world outside the phone booth was not how he left it—not how it was only moments ago. The beautiful summer night sky was swallowed by storm clouds, taking all warmth with it. The air was heavy and sticky, a combination of humid and cold all at once. It was hostile, and it wreaked of decay. But what startled Billy most was the glistening array of vines that engulfed the earth and everything on it.

In a sickly daze, he stumbled in front of his car. Its headlights seemed to shine brighter than the moon and yet it was not enough to illuminate the oncoming army of figures marching through the fog.

"What do you want?" He asked, feeling brave. When they didn't answer, he stalked forward several steps and raised his voice in a panic. "Hey! I said, what do you want?"

No answer. Just the haunting sound of the marching of the faceless army. He matched their step, just a notch slower thanks to the fear filling his lungs. Billy was too afraid to notice the scarlet lightning raging up above his head.

"I said, what do you want?!"

The faceless army stopped but its leader remained in a steady march straight for him. Try as he might, Billy couldn't bring himself to take another step. He could only watch with bated breath, heart in his lungs beating so loud he could hear it in his ears as the figure revealed himself to him. When he did, Billy's next breath was stolen right out of his chest.

Standing there before him was another Billy Hargrove.

||𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Are you sure you know how to ride that thing?" I quip, watching as Max tumbles off her board for the sixth time since she got on.

"Do you wanna give it a try?" she asks, smirking. "Wanna see if you can do a kickflip?"

"Oh, that's not a question I need answered," I say, finishing another sip of my f/d. I put it back down on the curb beside me where I sit, and lean back with my hands propping me up in the grass. "The question is, can you do a kickflip?"

"I can, I told you," she huffs, turning her board back over. "I did one this morning,"

She mounts her board and tries again. The board flips under her feet but never comes full circle. Her feet land on the edge of the underside and she stumbles back. Max releases another frustrated huff, moving the bits of hair that had fallen over her face.

"I'd give that a solid 4.0," I comment.

"Why are you here again?" She asks, stopping to look at me. Her face is stern but anyone could see she was teasing. Mostly.

I laugh and stretch out my legs.

"Cause you love me?" I offer, sheepishly.

Max clicks her tongue, pretending to think about it. "Mm, no I don't think that's it."

"But you don't deny you do?"

"Whatever," she scoffs, hopping back on her board.

"You do love me," taking a long, loud sip of my drink I grin with my eyes and she rolls hers.

I tip the f/d all the way back, lick my lips, and sigh.

I ultimately decide I've put it off long enough and I rise from the curb.

"I'll be back. I gotta whiz,"

Max eyes the empty glass of f/d I have in my hand and smirks. "Surprise, surprise. You're gonna run us dry at this rate,"

"You guys ate all my Mac n Cheese," I wink, and she blushes. "I'm just doing the neighborly thing and repaying the favor,"

Max rolls her eyes and scoffs, and feeling victorious I disappear inside.

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Max's eyes linger where Y/n had disappeared and her lips threaten to hook upwards in a small smile. She quickly shakes her head, forcing herself to focus back on the task at hand.

Maybe if she got a running start.

Max takes off on her skateboard and gives it another try. The board barely moves.

Her third attempt is the closest but still wields no results.

And when she tries a fourth, her board flies out from under her and cruises down the road.

Where it lands at El's feet.

Max straightens, unsure of where this was about to head. She watches carefully as El picks up the skateboard and makes her way over.

Was this really happening?

El had never wanted anything to do with anyone other than Mike, and Y/n.

So what was she doing here?

"Hi," she says.

"Hi?"

El hands her skateboard over to Max, her steely composure melting a little.

"Is Y/n here?"

Max's shoulders fell, any hopes she had growing in her chest dashed.

"She's inside," Max said, trying to mask her disappointment. "She'll be back out in a minute,"

Max took her skateboard and returned it to the concrete, ready to hop back on. But El's words stopped her in her tracks.

"Can... we talk? All of us?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Welp. Another day, another migraine for Robin Buckley. She couldn't even pretend to care anymore as she numbly hands over what had to have been the sixth dozenth ice cream cone of her first shift.

"Have a nice day," she drawls, passing the cones to the over-eager couple.

"Thanks!" They turn away, heading for the door, revealing the next over-eager customer in line.

He bounces up to the counter, wearing a Roast Beef tee, bright yellow ball cap, and a toothless grin.

"Hi!"

Robin blinks. "Hi," she says carefully.

His smile never wavers, even when he seems to catch on to her cluelessness. He gestures to himself.

"I'm Dustin," he clarifies.

"I'm Robin,"

"Pleasure to meet you," man, this kid's optimism was a little unnerving. Impressive, but unnerving. But hey, at least it was something new. He glances over her shoulder and back to her expectantly. "Uh, is he—? Is he here?"

"Is, who here?"

The sudden and obnoxious sound of rubber shoes squealing against the freshly waxed linoleum floors ripped their attention to the employee-only door. It had been thrown open as the figure before them had nearly crashed through. There stood an overzealous Steve Harrington wearing his usual Scoops Ahoy uniform and a growing grin.

His mouth falls open in a gape, unable to contain his excitement and he throws his arms up.

"Henderson,"

Dustin laughs excitedly as Steve begins bouncing around the counter to greet him.

"Henderson! He's back!" He cheers. "He's back!"

"I'm back!" He cries, gesturing past a Robin and her startled expression to the giant Scoops Ahoy sign. "You got the job!"

"I got the job!" Steve blows an imaginary trumpet before going in for their handshake.

As it always did, the handshake gradually morphed into a false battle, imaginary lightsabers drawn and clashing. Each of them create their own sound effects. Dustin thrusts the invisible blade of light into Steve's abdomen, who in turn illustrates his fake wounds. The pair of unlikely friends fall into a fit of giggles, while a less than impressed Robin watches in boredom behind the counter.

The name had already registered, but she was still a little shocked at the other Henderson she never had a chance to meet. She always forgot there were two, and if Robin was being honest, she preferred the other one so far. Sure, the girl stared a lot but she seemed less... well whatever this was.

Looking at her coworker, she tilts her head and cocks a brow. "How many children are you friends with?"

The young man sighs, exasperatedly swiping a hand over his mouth as he gestures to her, giving Dustin a tired look.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"No," Steve laughs through a cracked smile. "No way! Hotter than Phoebe Cates? Nah,"

Dustin hums, swallowing a bite of his ice cream, and nods excitedly.

"Brilliant, too! And she doesn't even care that my real pearls are still coming in. She says kissing is better without teeth,"

"..." Steve nods, trying his best to not let his nervous laughter shine through. "Wow! Yeah, um—well that's great! I'm proud of you man, that's rom— that's kind of romantic. That's like... wow!"

Dustin hums happily in agreement, swallowing another bite of his ice cream. He shakes his head.

"Do you really get to eat as much of this as you want?"

"Yeah," Steve shrugs. "I mean, sure. It's not really a good idea for me though. You know, I gotta keep in shape for the ladies,"

-"Yeah, and how's that working out for you?" Dustin and Steve follow the voice across the shop to see Robin shooting them a knowing look.

"Ignore her,"

"She seems cool," Dustin's smiles.

"She's not," Steve says, eyeing the foot traffic outside Scoops Ahoy momentarily. "So, where are the other knuckleheads?"

"They ditched me yesterday,"

As Dustin digs out a spoonful of his U.S.S. Butterscotch Sundae, Steve laughs off the boy's last comment in disbelief.

"What? No way,"

"My first day back. Can you believe that shit?"

Steve's face falls when he sees the look on Dustin's face. He sits up in his seat, growing angry.

"Woah, seriously?"

"I swear to god, mhm."

"No, no not Y/n though?" Offered Steve, sounding genuinely surprised. "I mean, I don't think she wanted to admit it but she was pretty psyched about you coming home,"

"Yeah, Steve. Even Y/n," Dustin snaps. But judging by the look washing in after his outburst, he doesn't seem very committed to his anger. He sighs into his ice cream. "I mean, she tried to stick with me but she had to leave with Byers or something. Said she was worried,"

"That blows," Steve says, sighing into a hunch over the table. "I'm sorry, man."

Dustin nods, eyes still drilling into his Sundae. No doubt dwindling on his growing separation from his sister and friends. Feeling bad for the kid, Steve still remembers the events of the previous year. And if, like then, it had something to do with Will, then... Well, he couldn't really blame her. But he was broken up just seeing Dustin like this.

"Hey, I'm sure it's fine," Steve tries. "You know her better than anyone; if she's worried about something she has a good reason. I'm sure she's just being cautious, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to be here with you. I'd just give it time,"

"I guess," Dustin frowns, his spoon playing with a cherry on his ice cream. He suddenly perks. "Doesn't matter now, though. They're all gonna regret it, anyway. Big time. When they won't get to share in my glory."

Steve sits up, growing curious.

"Glory? What glory?"

A sort of cocky smirk grows on Dustin's face and he scooches further in the booth, closer to Steve. His voice lowers a considerable amount, only doubling Steve's curiosity.

"So last night," he begins. "I was trying to get in contact with Suzie,"

Unfortunately for Steve, he catches the playful look on the kid's face and nervously nods along. The 'no teeth' comment and the small, uninvited image it forces onto his mind threatens a shiver.

"and I uh," Dustin leans in further, pausing to scan the ice cream shop as he hides his mouth behind his hand. When his next words come out, they're barely a whisper as he looks into his bowl."I intercepted a secret Russian communication."

Steve only blinks, his mind racing to catch up with the words he thought he heard. He blinks again.

"What?"

"Uh," It's clear Dustin is trying to look as casual as possible, but every attempt at doing so was only obscuring his words more. "IinterceptedasecretRussiancommunication,"

"Just speak louder,"

"I intercepted a secret Russian communication!"

The shop goes quiet, everyone including Robin who stood behind the counter stopped to look at them. Steve shifts in his seat, hastily shushing the boy as discreetly as possible.

"Jesus, yeah. OK, well that's what I thought you said." Both of them look around the shop again, relieved to see everyone had gone back to their conversations assuming they misheard. Either that or wanting to keep out of it. "Wait, what does that mean?"

"It means, Steve, that we could heroes. True American heroes."

"Ahh," Steve says through a blooming smile.

"Mm-hmm,"

"American heroes," Steve said, liking the sound of the words on his tongue.

"Just think. You could have all the ladies you want. And more."

"More?"

"More."

"I like more."

Dustin hums, and as the two think on it they can very nearly picture their glorious, hopeful future before them.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, I just need your help."

"With what?"

Dustin only smiles, turning to his backpack beside him. Unzipping the bag, he retrieves a small red book that he displays with a hopeful smile. The title read,

RUSSIAN - ENGLISH

ENGLISH - RUSSIAN

"Translation."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

5 Ways To Help Palestinians Through Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions - [link]

20 Organizations That Support Black Women During Black History Month and Beyond - [link]

Stop Asian Hate Linktree: A variety of resources dedicated to helping those affected by, and stopping Anti-Asian Violence - [link]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List:

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❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

[hanniiesuckle17]

Pros and Cons

A/n: im sorry it took so long for me to do this bb! This is for @poeticallyspaghetti​ you've done so much for me lately. you were there for me when no one else was. I love you and I hope you like this! I also can’t wait for our collab together

Look out for Checkmate on both of our accounts!

(not thoroughly edited)

Member: Bangchan ft. 3RACHA, Jae & Dowoon of Day6

Word Count: 20.2k

Warnings: POV switching, censored cursing, mentions of theft, slight violence, mentions of the mob, sensual themes?

Summary: Y/n L/n has lived her whole life locked up in a fancy penthouse. Chan has spent his whole life living one adventure from the next. When fate brings them together by accident Chan takes on the task of whisking her away from her seemingly perfect life, but little do the both of them know bigger problems arise forcing them on the run.

Genre: Con-artist au!, romance, scammer!au, Non-idol!au, comedy, a little bit of angst?

♛

Y/n’s POV

The sound of violins floated across the grand foyer of my parents' penthouse. Well...my penthouse. Really, the presidential suite of the nicest hotel in Seoul. The older I got the more the luxurious mansion in the sky seemed like a prison instead of a palace. Once again my mother was throwing one of her high society parties. The parties were one of the few chances I got to actually interact with the outside world. My parents were convinced that I was some delicate flower that needed protection and isolation.

The closest I got to the outside world was the balcony in my room.

A man over half my age was talking to me about the stocks my father held in one of the many corporate companies in Seoul. “So, it would mean a great deal to our organization if you could pass the word along to your father.” I nodded and downed the rest of my champagne. Now would have been a great time for friends to come in handy. But, there was no one but myself to save me from this dreadfully boring situation.

“Excuse me, sir,”

The man nodded graciously and let me walk away, my heels clicking across the polished wood floors. A hand grabbed my elbow, yanking me in the opposite direction my feet were moving. “Y/n would you be a dear and go talk to the Minister of Education’s daughter.” My mother’s voice nagged in my ear. Her smile was basically permanently plastered on her painted face. “The two of you would be terrific friends. Also, your father needs more pull in the Cabinet.”

My eyebrow rose as I looked across the room to the Minister’s daughter. “Mother she is eight.”

“Yes and?”

“Can’t I have friends my own age?”

“Yes. When both your father and I are dead. We can’t have you hanging around boys and other bad influences. You could ruin your father’s reputation.” She then took my wrist and spun me around taking in every single inch and fiber of my being. “Darling, who dressed you? You look thoroughly underwhelming.” I rolled my eyes as she started unlatching the heavy and bling filled diamond necklace from her neck.

“Mom-”

“Don’t fuss. Photographers are here tonight.”

My chest instantly gained a little under a pound as the close to twenty-thousand dollar necklace was clasped onto my neck by my controlling mother. After it was safely secured on my neck, my mother pushed me in the direction of the little eight-year-old girl snacking on hour devours. “Hi, you’re Jisoo- right?”

I sighed and prepared to sit next to this tiny little girl for the rest of the evening.

♛

Bang Chan’s POV

Several shouts could be heard behind me as I raced down the hall of the hotel. I can’t believe some people live here permanently. My fingers hurriedly started unbuttoning the black button-down I used to pass off as a waiter. The staff's hall was practically empty as I walked through and tossed the button down onto a laundry cart. I shivered feeling the cold air on my arms. 

My hands latched onto the black backpack I stashed behind a potted plant. I pulled out my flannel and threw it on over my tank top. “There he is!” A quick glance behind me showed three overly buff goons chasing after me. Maybe swiping that dude’s watch was not the best idea. But this was easily like $3,000. He didn’t need it given what I heard the waiter saying his meal cost. “You won’t get away with this!”

“Yeah, that’s what you think,” I whispered, shoving the watch in my pocket. Maybe I should stick to cons and leave the pickpocketing to Jisung. The one time I try and pickpocket I get caught. My pace quickly turned into a run and burst through the nearest door. 

Smells of gourmet food flooded my senses as I weaved through the kitchen. “Where is he?” I pushed passed another waiter, shoving the backpack over my shoulder. Please tell me there is a back door somewhere. My eyes frantically searched for an escape. 

“Ha! Score!”

An old dumbwaiter came into my sights. Most hotels had them but didn’t use the mechanisms anymore. I opened the door and climbed in slamming the up button before closing myself inside. It was close to one a.m so hopefully, the guest in whatever room I ended up in was asleep. 

♛

Y/n’s POV

The party was wrapping up as I trudged down the hall. I had spent the past several hours talking about cartoons and other childlike things with Jisoo. The sound of mt parents talking with some final guests could be heard behind me. A random staff from the hotel walked passed me as my feet carried me down the hall. The hotel usually lent staff to help with our parties.

My tired body pushed the door to my room open to be greeted by the dark and looming space. Moonlight streamed through the patio door that led to my balcony. I kicked off the painful heels my mother forced me into and took out the tight pins and tie in my hair, walking over to the mirror. My hands shook out the tightness and threaded through my H/c strands. 

A large thump had me turning to the far wall. My eyes searched the dark in panic. Blindly, my hands grabbed for an object behind me on my bureau. I looked to see a lamp in my grasp. Well, better than nothing. 

“Hello.....who’s there?”

My eyes picked up on a dark shadow standing up from the floor. My heart pounded against my chest. the shadowy figure hulked on the other side of my room, clearly looking around. “The f***?”   

“Who are you? Stay where you are.” The head turned at my words. I tried to steady my hands and voice; both were shaking. The figure inched closer and I raised the lamp over my head. 

“Oh sh**!” 

The figure made a break for the window and I tossed the lamp. The sound of it crashing against the wall filled the room. I grabbed a heavy candle on my dresser. My eyes searched the dark for his movement but the string of panicked curse words gave away the intruder.

“SUCK ON A EUCALYPTUS MINT CANDLE, YOU THIEF!!”

I heard a loud thud and the room was quiet. There was no movement. Inching forward I saw the body of a boy about my age slumped on the floor. The candle lay about a foot away from his head, the glass cracked. Cautiously, I nudged his shoulder with my foot. When he didn’t stir I started to panic.

“Oh crap. I killed a guy. Now, mom’s never gonna let me leave the penthouse.”

A knock on my door sent me jumping out of my skin. “Y/n? Y/n. Open this door. We heard a crash. Is everything okay? Y/n, open this door.” Smoothing down my hair, I rushed to the door and opened it enough to stick my face out. She studied my face and tried to look passed me. “Y/n, what the hell is going on? You should be going to sleep soon.”

“I’m fine, mom. I just tripped and knocked over a lamp.” 

She rose a brow and folded her arms. “Really? It sounded like more than that.”

I kept my grip firm on the door, knowing she might try to push through. “Yeah. I’ll leave it for Soonyoung to clean up in the morning. I’m gonna shower and go to bed. Night Mother.” Before she could say anything else I slammed the door and locked it. 

Okay. Dead body. In my room. What the heck do I do? Who do I call? I pulled out my phone and opened my contact list. Empty. Okay, so I’m on my own. I paced the floor, staring at the boys with shaggy brown hair. On instinct, I lightly kicked his stomach and he let out a groan. 

Okay, not dead. Good. Not dead. Bad for me. I dragged the chair from my vanity to the middle of the room and grabbed some pantyhose and scarves from my closet. It took all of my might to lift up the heavy boy into the chair. “Good grief. How much does this guy weigh?” 

With a final grunt, I threw him into the chair and started tying him up with the sheer tights. When I was finished I stuffed a scarf in his mouth and looked at my work. “Who is the fragile one now, huh Dad?” I said, hands on my hips. Another soft groan had me jumping across the room and grabbing the heaviest book near me. 

There was no way I could just leave him here. There was also no way I was sleeping in this room tonight. So instead I grabbed a fluffy bean bag and dragged it in front of the chair. I was going to sit and watch this dummy intruder all night. Or....until he woke up.

♛

The sound of a muffled grunt sent me shooting out of the chair. I had fallen asleep while watching the thief. I readied my weapon: The Complete and Full Works of William Shakespeare. I had hurt many a toe dropping this thing.

The boy was looking around wildly before his dark eyes focused on me. “Who are you?” I asked, the heavy book ready to swing. He sighed and nodded his head before I realized what he was referring to. “Oh...sorry.” He sighed when I took the scarf out of his mouth and stretched his neck. 

“I’m Chris.” He replied in English. “Do you speak English?” He asked adjusting in his bonds. I scoffed and kept my Shakespeare weapon at the ready. 

“Yes, I do. But, you speak Korean. I heard you last night. Don’t play with me.”

He sighed and hung his head. When he looked up I saw his stare flash to my neck. His eyes turned to saucers before coming back to my face. “Alright, alright. What do you want to know?” The boy, Chris, answered back in Korean. Slowly, I lowered the book and sat down on the bean bag.

“How did you get into my room?”

“I climbed in the dumbwaiter and got off on a random floor.”

“Why were you in the dumbwaiter?”

Chris looked around my room before turning back to me. “Would you believe me if I told you I had a crazy ex-girlfriend. I’m sure you’ve got a crazy ex or two. I’d do anything to get away from her.” He shrugged his shoulders and plastered on a smile. The kind I had seen all the boys wear in movies. The kind that made your knees go weak.   

“Really? An ex?”

“Yeah.” I watched him gulp and look down at my necklace. 

“Is there something wrong?” He shook his head and looked away, squinting. 

“No. It’s just the sun is bouncing off the rocks on your neck. You trying to blind me or something?” I glanced down at the necklace my mom gave me last night. Then I turned to find the sun rising up above the Seoul skyline. 

“Yeah well....deal with it. You broke into my room.”

“By accident! Look, I’ll be happily on my way if you would let me go. What is this- underwear?” He said struggling against his DIY restraints.  

“Pantyhose.”

My parents would be up soon. My father would be going into the office and my mother would be attending numerous social events to further my father’s reach in the political parties. Or shopping it was a 50/50. “What are you? Sixty?” I scoffed and shoved the scarf back in his mouth. “MMmrrpphphh.”

“Yeah, no wisecracks now, huh?”

“NRRgghhrrgggg!”

“You gonna behave, pretty boy?”

“.....Mmpph.”

Smirking I grabbed the scarf from his mouth and tossed it onto the bean bag.  Chris shot me an annoyed glare. “So, let’s say I believe this whole ex-girlfriend thing. There’s no way I can sneak you passed my parents. Even if they both left early the staff is coming up to clean. We had a sort of gala in honor of my father last night.” I started pacing the floor, the sunrise leaking into my room.

“Oh, a ‘sort of gala’. Unlike a full f***ing gala. Those are for royalty.” Chris mocked in a British accent.

“Shut up.” 

He watched me pace the room and nervously tug at my messy hair. He sighed and hung his head, his chest resting against the tight make-shift bonds. “Look. As long as your parents leave, I’m sure I can make something up with the staff. Then we can go our separate ways and you can go back to shopping in Gangnam or whatever it is girls like you do.”

“I’ve never really been out of the penthouse...so I wouldn’t know what girls like me do.” He blinked at my response. 

“You’ve never left? That’s insane.”

“You haven’t met my parents.”

“I don’t think I want to.” I saw his eyes flick back to the necklace and an idea popped in my head. My fingers dragged across the diamonds and I tried not to break a smile when his eyes widened ever so slightly. 

“You like this don’t you?”

“I mean,” He shrugged, pursing his lips and looking out the huge door that led to my balcony. “It’s not bad. I’ve seen better.” I smirked and gently played with the necklace causing him to glance between me and the window. 

“Oh...I would agree. $20,000 is basically trash. Chump change really. They could have ripped me off for fake diamonds.” Chris’s eyes bugged out of his head.

“$20,000?!” 

I rushed to cover his mouth, looking to the door. “Shhh! My mother is a light sleeper.” After waiting a few moments I brought my hand away from his mouth. His eyes couldn’t help but bulge out at the payday sitting inches away from him around my neck. And I knew it.

My fingers undid the clasp behind my neck and I dangled the necklace in front of his face. It was like dangling a carrot in front of a mule. The diamonds swung back and forth slightly, his eyes tracking every move.

“You want it?”

All he did was gulp and look back up at me. He let out a heavy breath when I backed away still holding up the necklace. “What’s the catch?” He asked, still eyeing the diamonds.

“Take me with you. Get me out of here.” 

“Won’t your parents notice your gone.”

“My mother will miss these diamonds before she’ll miss me. And she won’t even notice they’re gone until tomorrow. She’s got tons of these.”

Chris seemed to be thinking about the deal. I was finally getting my hopes up. I could maybe start a new life. Earn my own way. Have friends. Have freedom. “Okay, are we talking like get you out for the day...or...’get you out’?”

“I can’t stand being here anymore. Get me out. I can always come back if I want to.”

Chan’s eyes followed the bling as I swung it back and forth. “Deal. Untie me.” I dropped the necklace on my dresser and untied Chris from the chair. I saw him make a break for the dresser, but I beat him there, grabbing the necklace. “Hey! Deal is a deal!”

“You haven’t gotten me out of here yet. You aren’t getting this necklace until you completely finish the job. If you know what I mean. And I think you do.” Chan sighed and crossed his arms.

“So you didn’t believe the girlfriend story?”

“Not for one second.”

“Da**.”

“Sorry, pretty boy.”

He backed away from me and shrugged. “Okay, princess. Change out of that freakshow dress and get ready to leave. I’m gonna show you what the world really looks like.” A huge grin overtook my face.

♛

A few hours later I slipped out of my room and stuffed a backpack behind a plant near the door. First I had to sneak Chris passed the staff, then I was one step closer to freedom. Quietly, I snuck back into the room where Chris was lounging on my bed.

“I still don’t know why you want to leave. This thing is the softest blanket I’ve ever felt.”

I scoffed and started grabbing a pair of jeans from my dresser. “Yeah. I would trade freedom for those blankets and everything else in a heartbeat.” Chris sighed and started rummaging through my drawers. Probably looking for more stuff to steal or at least clues about my personality. 

“Is it really that bad?” I nodded and grabbed my favorite shirt and a jacket from my closet. After closing the bathroom door I started to change. “They don’t let you have any friends?”Chris called through the door. 

“I mean, Dowoon and Jae. But, they work for my father. Jae has always been...nice to me. But, my father hardly ever leaves them alone with me.”

A smile twitched on my lips thinking about Jae. He had been working for my father as a PA for almost five years. I had always had a big crush on him, but I could never know if he liked me back. He was always a stickler for my dad’s rules. 

“You ready?” Chris asked as I exited the bathroom fully changed. With a nod,  the two of us headed towards my bedroom door. Cracking it open I verified that the hallway was clear. “Okay let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Chris said as I motioned for him to follow. 

The staff seemed to be minding their own business in other rooms of the penthouse. Chris carefully followed me into the living room, quietly marveling at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. My ears picked up on the front door opening. “Get down!” I whispered.

“Where am I supposed to hide? Everything is out in the open?”

“I don’t know just get down!”

Finally, I shoved him behind a white couch and sat on the arm just as a pair of leather shoes rounded the corner. A nervous smile graced my lips seeing who it was. “Y/n? What are you doing out here?” Jae asked. He looked insanely good standing in the pressed black Italian suit. It hugged his lean figure in all the right ways. 

“Uhhhh, Jae? I..uuh-..wanted some air?” I said the first thing that came to mind, instantly regretting it. I heard a groan come from Chris so I carefully kicked my leg behind me to keep him quiet.

“Miss, you have a balcony...”

“Yeah well, the air in here is better than in my room?” Come on Jae, just buy it. 

“Miss, the hallway air is exactly the same as the purified ultraviolet filtered air in your suite. Is the filter broken? Should I check on it?” 

He started advancing towards me but I pressed my hands against his chest stopping him from moving past the couch. My eye darted over to Chan who was quietly watching the whole scene from his hiding spot. “Uh..no! Umm....I just...heard you come in and....wanted to see you...” 

My voice trailed off at the last part and I looked up to see a light dust on Jae’s cheeks. “You wanted to see...me?” Jae’s voice was soft and he chuckled before looking around the room. I saw a thought flash through his mind before he backed away running a hand through his blonde hair. “Well- uh...your father forgot some papers for a deal with China and asked me to come get them.” 

I nodded and shoved my hands in my pockets. This was usually how most encounters with Jae went. Hopefully, he didn’t suspect anything. “Oh...okay. Do you know if he’s gonna be home for dinner.”

Jae shrugged and gave me a smile that screamed pity. “Sorry, I don’t know.” Jae turned around and headed for my father’s office. A few minutes later he came back out a file in hand as well as a briefcase. Jae gave me another smile sending heat to my cheeks and butterflies to my stomach as he existed the penthouse.

The second the front door closed, Chris shot up from his hiding place. “So....you like that guy or something?” He said dusting himself off. I shrugged and stood back up. A hand to my cheek told me my skin was still hot. 

“Oh...that was just Jae. I told you about him earlier.”

“Jae......?”

“Yes, Jae.” I couldn’t help the smile on my face when I said his name. Chris scoffed behind me as I grabbed the backpack I stashed. I glanced back as the two of us walked out the front door and into the hall. “What’s with the attitude?”

“Nothing. It’s just I thought you would have better taste.”

“What?”

“Please. He’s just some pretty boy with skinny chicken legs in a nice suit,” Chris took the lead, as we approached the elevator. He pressed the button for the basement and turned back to me with a smirk. “No muscle on him at all.” 

“Okay, pretty boy. Whatever you say.” Before Chris could make a retort the elevator doors opened and we entered, leaving him fuming. We rode the first two floors in silence. Then Chris opened his mouth.

“You know your little boyfriend was packin’ right?” My eyes went wide and I felt another blush rise to my cheeks. I tried to keep my stare forward. Chris chuckled at my expression.

“He’s not my.....-what do you mean- HOW WOULD YOU KNOW, YOU PERVERT?” 

Chan smirked and rolled his eyes. “No. I mean, your little chicken boy- he had a gun on him. I don’t know any personal assistant who carries that’s all.” Jae had a gun? He was with my father twenty-four seven. Maybe Dad wanted extra protection?

“So, why are we going to the basement?” I asked changing the subject.

Chris handed me a black cap from his bag. “We can’t just go out the lobby doors. Your a chaebol’s daughter. We’re gonna go out the loading dock. I’ve got some friends Itaewon that can maybe help you out.” Nodding, I put the hat on and sighed when I had to tighten it. Before the door opened Chris shoved the brim down over my face and threw an arm over my shoulder. “Pretend to talk about something that pissed you off.”

The doors opened and a couple of busboys stood in front of us. They looked the both of us up and down and then up to me when I started to speak to Chris. “So, this random girl jumps in front of me and steals my cab. Like who the hell does that? I was already late for work and I literally heard her tell the guy to take her uptown. No one works uptown!” Chris smirked and pulled me closer as we walked past the busboys. 

“That sucks, babe.” 

“I know! I was fired for being late. That freaking hag in 705 reported me for being late to clean!” Chris glanced back and then dropped his arm from my shoulder. “Good job, princess. Let’s bounce. The train for Itaewon leaves in fifteen minutes.” 

“Isn’t Itaewon....”

“Yeah. Don’t worry you’ll love it. Jisung does anyway.” 

♛

Bang Chan’s POV

Y/n sat next to me, backpack in her lap. The boys were probably chilling at my place waiting for me so I knew where I could find them. The train doors opened and I motioned for Y/n to get off. She followed me out into the streets of Itaewon. A couple girls at the station called out to me and even to Y/n. She smiled at them, but I pulled her to my side. 

“Don’t talk to them.”

“What, why? I was just being nice.”

“Just keep walking and stay close to me. You’re practically a walking dollar sign.” She shrugged and walked closer to me. No way was I gonna let someone else scam my prize. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Y/n pull out her phone. She called out when I grabbed it.

“Hey, give that back!”

“We’ve gotta scrap it. Parents like yours are bound to have put a tracker on this.” She quieted and let me search through her phone. Sure enough, a quick search through it showed a program embedded into the software. It would take way too long to remove it. My eyes scanned the street we were on and landed on a pair of girls on the street corner. 

Y/n followed me as I walked towards them. “Hey!” Their heads turned and they stood up a little straighter. Their painted lips turned upwards into a smile. “You girls work for Yeji?” One girl nodded and crossed her arms. “Tell her I said hi. Also, here take this. Give it to one of her rookies.”

“And who should I say sent the message,” the girl with pink hair inquired, twirling a strand around her finger. The other pocketed the phone.

“Tell her Bangchan sent it.” The girl nodded and motioned the girl in the opposite direction. “Okay, princess let’s go.” Taking her arm I led her towards the burrows of Itaewon. 

“Who were those girls?” Y/n asked. I ran a hand through my hair as we walked through the streets. I was hoping Y/n didn’t look too out of place. Hopefully, Changbin would have some clothes that might fit her. He was small enough. 

“Well let’s just say Yeji provides girls to people seeking private entertainment.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. That’ll be fun for your mom to find.” I heard Y/n laugh behind me. “You think that’s funny?” I asked confused. She shrugged and looked around her. She seemed fascinated by everything around her. It was almost endearing. 

“I think anyone would think that’s funny.”

“Jisung is gonna looooove you.”

A few blocks later we stood in front of a two-story brick building with trees that hid most of the house, and what wasn’t hidden was fenced in by a wall. “You’re a pretty private person, aren’t you.”

“Yeah. Congratulations you are officially the fourth person to know this location.”

I opened the gate door and closed it behind us before walking up to my front door. My fingers quickly entered the key code and the security system beeped letting me know the door unlocked. “DADDY’S HOOOMMMEEE!” Someone screamed inside.

“Who the heck is that?”

“That’s Jisung. Try not to touch him. He may or may not have fleas.”

She chuckled and walked through the door. Jisung lounged across my couch and raised his arms when he saw me. “Chan! Channie! What’s up, dude? Where have you been?” I threw my backpack on the couch and motioned to Y/n behind me. 

“Got a little held up.” Jisung’s eyes went wide as Y/n rounded the corner. He stood up and brushed off what seemed to be Cheeto dust from his jeans.

“Hyung, who’s the chick with the great ass?” 

Jisung started walking towards her but I grabbed the back of his collar pulling him back in front of me. “She’s a payday.” His eyes widened and that mischievous grin lit up his eyes. 

“SHE’S GOT CAKE AND CASH!”

“Shhhhh!”

“My type of woman.”

I rolled my eyes as Jisung continued to ogle Y/n’s backside as she looked around. “Where’s Bin?” Jisung shrugged, his focus still on Y/n. “Hey! Can you not? Look she’s got a huge payday and I might split it with you.” That perked his attention.

“50/50?”

“Try 90/10.”

“60/40?”

“80/20.”

“85/15!”

I paused. “Yeah sure. I’ll split it 85/15. You drive a hard bargain.” Jisung laughed and shook my hand. His blonde hair bounced as he went over to Y/n. I climbed the stairs in search of Changbin. “Yo, Bin! You up here? I’ve got a favor I need.” 

Changbin was indeed upstairs. He was hidden behind multiple computers, typing away at lightspeed. The office door was open allowing me to see him. At my voice, he peeked out from behind the monitors and then returned behind his technological shields. “Chan I’ve done enough favors for you. Remember Gangnam?”

“Yes. I do. And that was very generous of you to help.

“No ‘ands’. No more favors.”

“1,000 bucks?”

“Sold. What am I doing?”

I laughed and sat at the edge of the desk. “YO, JISUNG! GET UP HERE!” Changbin shook his head and continued working on his previous project while Jisung took his sweet time climbing the stairs.”Can you find someone just off a first name?” I asked Bin, as Jisung walked in. 

“I can find someone off the first letter of a nickname.”

“Search for ‘Y/n’.”  I turned to Jisung. “So, what did she tell you?” He shrugged and picked up a random half made device on the desk. 

“Put it back,” Changbin said without looking away from the screen.

“Not much. She just told me you were helping her get away from her parents.” Jisung drummed his fingers on his thigh. The boy had enough energy to power half of Seoul. “So how big are we talking about?” Jisung questioned, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. 

“Found her,” Changbin said, leaning back in his chair. “This better not be your favor.”

“Already?”

“Her name popped up in a google search along with a picture.” Jisung and I both moved to peer over Changbin’s shoulder. He was right. The screen showed a picture of Y/n in a very nice dress standing next to a very powerful looking man. A man I recognized. My eyes widened as I saw her full name listed under the photo. Y/n L/n. 

“Oh, f***...”

“What? She's loaded.” Jisung said next to me. He took the mouse and clicked on images. He scrolled through all the photos of her at high society parties. “Da**. She is one hot chick.”

“No, idiot. Look at her dad.” Turning I saw Jisung’s face pale. 

“Dude, we are so f***ing dead.”

♛

*Later That Same Night*

Jae’s POV

I stood hands clasped in front of me as I stood off to the side in the L/n dining room. Dowoon stood next to me. We listened to the soft clink of silverware against china as Mr. L/n and Mrs. L/n ate their dinner. “Have you seen Y/n today, honey?” Mr. L/n asked his wife.

She shrugged and continued to daintily eat her food. If I knew anything about her she would be throwing it back up within the next two hours. She was obsessed with image. It made me sick how she always had to control everything. Even Y/n. 

“No. I haven’t. I was out all day. She’s probably still sulking in her room like always.” I tried to hide the frown on my face, but Mr. L/n saw it. 

“Jae. Have you seen my daughter?”

I cleared my throat and glanced at Dowoon. “Yes sir. I saw Y/n-Miss Y/n earlier this morning. She seemed a little off-put.” Mr. L/n sighed and rubbed his temples. 

“Dowoon, please go check on my daughter. I’d like to speak to her.” 

Dowoon nodded and bowed to both the lady and the boss. Without a word he left the dining room and headed down the hall to Y/n’s room. I drummed my fingers against my hand. I hoped Y/n was feeling better. She was acting a little weird this morning. I blushed thinking about what she said to me.

Feeling a tap on my shoulder I turned to see a nervous Dowoon. He leaned in to whisper to me. “Uh, hyung...she didn’t answer the door. I knocked like four times. What do I do?”

“She must still be upset or something. I’ll check on her.” 

Dowoon nodded and went back to his place watching over Mr. and Mrs. L/n. I walked across the penthouse to Y/n’s room and sighed when I saw the lights off from under the door. Gently, I wrapped my knuckles on the door and waited to hear her voice. When I didn’t, I called out for her.

“Y/n?” 

No response.

“Hey, Y/n? It’s Jae. You wanna talk?”

Nothing. Again I knocked.

“Y/n? You okay, beautiful?” 

There was no response. Something was wrong. “Hey, Y/n, I’m coming in.” My hand found the doorknob and turned. I was surprised to find it unlocked. My eyes quickly adjusted to the low light in the room. 

“Oh sh**.” 

The room was empty. She was gone. “Y/n? Please tell me your hiding somewhere, beautiful.” I started searching the room. Under the bed. In the closet (Some of her clothes were missing, but the staff did laundry today). In the bathroom. On the balcony. Then I saw it. The dumbwaiter. It was open. My heart started racing, panic starting to set in.

“Jae is everything okay-”

I turned to find Dowoon standing slack-jawed in the doorway. “She’s gone.” I rubbed the back of my neck. Mr. L/n was gonna kill me. Literally. It wasn’t official, but not only was I in charge of his safety and affairs but also Y/n’s. I can’t believe I didn’t check on her when we got back to the penthouse. This was all my fault.

“What’s that?” Dowoon pointed to the center of the room. I walked over and picked up a cheap pair of headphones from the floor. These weren’t Y/n’s. “Those aren’t hers, right? We’ve gotta tell the boss.”

I nodded, pocketing the headphones and leading my partner back into the dining room. Nervously, I walked up to Mr. L/n and whispered in his ear. “Sir.....we...can’t find her. She’s missing.” I winced, waiting for the storm.

His face reddened and he slammed down his silverware and stood up abruptly, startling the whole room. “Jae. Dowoon. My office. NOW!” Mr. L/n stormed into his study, not waiting for us to follow, which we did. Quickly.

I closed the door after us, knowing exactly what was to be discussed. As I turned around a large hand flew across my cheek, causing me to stumble into a bookcase. I touched my cheek, feeling blood. Mr. L/n adjusted his cuffs, a furious expression on his face. His ring had sliced my cheek. 

He came back with a second blow. Dowoon watched, hiding his fear. I would rather take it than him. “MY DAUGHTER WAS IN YOUR SAFETY.” He screamed, backing away from me. Mr. L/n started pacing, his hand twitching with agitation. “SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN TAKEN BY ANOTHER KINGPIN!” 

Dowoon and I flinched at his words. “We apologize, sir.” We both bowed low. 

“Jae,” I looked up, hesitantly. “While I am furious...I trust you more than anyone else in the syndicate. If you can find her and bring her back unharmed...I will give her to you. It was in discussion already.” My eyes went wide. I knew there were plans to marry off Y/n. Mr. L/n wanted for her to marry within the syndicate so she could be protected.

“Sir, you mean-”

“Only...if you bring her back to me. I’m hoping your infatuation with my daughter drives you even more to find her. And you WILL find her.”

“Yes sir.” The blood slowly trickled down my cheek. I fought the urge to wipe it away. His eyes bore into me. Mr. L/n was one of the most dangerous men in Seoul and he loved his daughter very much. He had many enemies that wished to harm him and his family, so this job might have been near impossible. But, it was Y/n.

“I will find her.”

♛

Y/n’s POV

Jisung raced out of the room closest to the stairs and leaned over the balcony.

“YOUR DAD IS A F***ING MOB BOSS?!?!?!”

“My dad is a what?” I asked as I watched the wide-eyed blonde boy on the staircase. Chris followed him out and started pushing him down the stairs. Another boy with dark hair, much shorter than the other two, appeared on the landing. He was seemingly unfazed by this shocking news. “What do you mean my dad is a mob boss? He’s a cabinet secretary. He works for the president.”

“I hate to break it to you princess, but that’s not all he does,” Chris said sitting down on the plush sofa in his living room. Jisung stood near me, a tentative and slightly wandering hand on my waist. I slapped it away making the silent boy chuckle. “Your dad runs one of the largest and most dangerous mob syndicates in Seoul.”

“And he doesn’t like Chan too much either.” The silent one said while scrolling through his phone. 

“Changbin, shut up will you?” Chris said throwing a pillow at him.

“I’m sorry, who is Chan?”

The other two boys looked at Chris. Jisung backed away from me and rubbed the back of his neck. Chris hung his head low and half-heartedly rose his hand. “That would be me.” I was very confused. 

“But you told me your name was Chris?”

“Yeah, that’s one of the many names I go by.” I looked to Jisung who just shrugged and gave me a nervous smile. Tension hung in the air. “I’m what some people call a hustler.”

“He’s a con artist. Quit beating around the bush.” The shorter boy, Changbin said.

Chris, or Chan, sighed. “Your dad hired me to scam a couple candidates into giving me their campaign plans. It worked. Piece of cake. But, your dad refused to pay me the agreed amount,”

“Yeah...he can be a little cheap,” I said rubbing my arm and sitting down across from him. Jisung followed like a loyal puppy, listening intently with me, even though he had probably heard this story many times before.

“Anyway, I made the not so great decision and I sort of...swindled $10k from him.”

“That’s nothing to him-”

“And a Porsche.”

“Oh......” My dad was really serious about his cars. I did remember him telling me about someone stealing one of his sports cars about two years ago. “That was you? Jae told me someone swiped it while it was in the shop.”

Chris laughed and Changbin high fived him without looking up from his phone. “Here’s the thing,” Changbin said still laser focused on his screen. “With your dad being who he is, it will be harder to get you under the radar. Your dad has eyes and ears everywhere. I’ve got to completely erase you from the system.” 

I felt a touch on my shoulder and I turned to see Jisung pulling away from me. “Were you smelling my hair?” I asked crossing my arms.

“......No...”

“Jisung can you not be a thirteen year old for a second?” Chris said rolling his eyes. Jisung scoffed and spread out on the couch, purposefully pushing his thigh against mine. He yelped when I slapped it away. “So, Changbin, how long before we can set her up with her new life?”

The boy sighed when Chan pulled away his phone, trying to see for himself what the boy was working on. “I should be able to get off the grid within the next 32 hours. Getting her new ids shouldn’t be a problem. Jisung can swipe me some templates from that guy...what’s his name?”

“Minho?”

“Yeah, him.”

“Minho is not gonna like me ‘borrowing’ his things again,” Jisung awkwardly shifted on the couch next to me. “Last time I barely made it out with my head. He threw a f***ing toaster at me.” I had to stifle my laughter with my hand. 

“Y/n, you can stay here until we get you new ids. I’ve got a house in Jeju we can set you up in after that.” Chan said pushing himself off the sofa. I watched him walk around the back of the couch before he turned back to me again. “Jisung, sleep on the couch tonight. Y/n, you’ll sleep in his room.”

“What! That’s not fair! She should sleep in your room. You’re the one who brought her here!” Jisung stood up from the couch to continue whining but Chan stopped him.

“Who’s the one who accidentally burst all the pipes in their apartment with a boomerang?”

Jisung shuffled back and forth on his heels. “....Me..”

“And who’s the one who has been letting you stay here for the past six months rent-free?” The blonde boy quieted and looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” While the conversation seemed light hearted, I knew Chris meant business.

Changbin grabbed back his phone. “You all should sleep. Chan you’ve got that deal tomorrow and Jisung you’ll have to give Toaster Man a visit.” Jisung groaned, stuffing his face in a couch pillow. “I’ll stick around and start working on her stuff.”

Soon everyone dispersed. Jisung showed me to his room like a gentleman. Unfortunately, I had to physically push him out like a four year old. I put my backpack at the foot of the bed. I slipped under the covers and tucked my hand under the pillow only to be met with a couple crumpled up candy wrappers. I laughed and tossed them into the trash can before returning to the bed. Soon, I fell into a deep sleep. 

♛

Jae’s POV

Eighteen hours had passed already. It took me eighteen hours to remember that her mother put a tracker in her d*** phone. Dowoon sat in the passenger seat of my car, a computer in his lap. 

“Turn left up here.”

“What the hell is she doing in Itaewon?”

“They have good fishcakes.” Turning I saw Dowoon’s innocent smile. It fell when he saw my serious expression. We drove in silence for the next few seconds. “Dang it. Now I want fishcakes.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I hadn’t slept since yesterday morning.  In the rearview mirror, I could see the beginnings of dark circles forming under my eyes. I wouldn’t rest until I found Y/n. 

“Okay, the tracker says she’s in that building over there.” I sighed and pulled the car over onto the side of the street. Dowoon and I got out and I squinted in the afternoon sun. The building ahead of us was unmarked but several women, wearing revealing clothes stood out front talking amongst each other. 

“Hey, cutie,” A girl with long red claws said, gently grabbing Dowoon’s arm as we walked past. “You got time to talk?” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger while looking at him with big doe eyes. 

“Actually I-”

“Sorry, we’re working,” I said dragging him away and through the door. 

“What’s wrong? She was being nice? We could have asked her about Y/n.”

“She was gonna give you more than that.” My eyes scanned the large room we entered. Dowoon stood next to me trying to decipher what I just said. Several girls, scantily clad, milled about. Some had men on their arm.

“I don’t get it. What else was she gonna give us?” Dowoon asked confused. I sighed and pressed forward. A girl with blonde hair walked up to me, pressing her hands against my chest.

“Looking for some fun, hot stuff?” I opened my jacket and the girl backed away seeing the gun I had stashed there. “Sh**, a simple ‘no’ would suffice.” The girl walked away and I checked my phone. The tracking program said Y/n was upstairs.

“What is Y/n doing in a place like this?” The thought sickened me. I knew for a fact she wouldn’t be here voluntarily. 

“I don’t know but these all seem like nice girls. Maybe a little cold not wearing a sweater in here. But, they seem friendly.” Dowoon was a great shot. He could shoot an apple off someone's head from an entire building away, but somehow be completely innocent in the weirdest ways.

I checked my phone seeing that the tracker led behind a closed door at the end of the hall. I pulled out my gun and motioned for Dowoon to follow me.  Pressing my ear against the door, I listened for voices in the room. I picked up the muffled sound of a female voice that sort of resembled Y/n. Nodding to Dowoon we burst through the door, guns aimed. 

The girl screamed and rolled off the bed, scrambling to find a sheet or a shirt. “Oh My- Dowoon, cover your eyes.” I blindly grasped his face trying to hide his view. I looked away giving the half naked girl who was not in fact Y/n some privacy. 

“What the f*** is going on here?” The man the girl was with asked. 

“Sir, I need to talk to this woman. Please get out before I decide to make you.” The man’s eyes widened and he quickly ran out of the room. My eyes landed on a phone on the bedside table. I picked it up and saw the case was Y/n’s.

“Hey! That���s mine!” 

I looked up to see a girl with pale pink hair. She had managed to slip on her shirt and now stood furious on the other side of the bed. “This?” I asked holding up the phone, gun still trained on her. “No, this- this is not yours.” Her body obviously tensed up under the barrel of a gun. “What’s your name?”

“Jae, can I look now or?” 

I turned to see Dowoon still with his eyes closed pointing his gun in the opposite direction. I pointed his gun in the correct direction and elbowed him. His eyes opened and he let out a nervous chuckle before he focused on the girl. 

“My name is Irene. Look, that’s my phone. It's used though. I don’t know anything about the previous owner.” I lowered the gun and put it back in its place. 

“Who gave it to you? When?”

“Yesterday. Some guy came up to me and a co-worker. Said he knew our boss, Yeji, and that the phone was a gift.” Dowoon lowered his gun and got out his phone. We would have to report back to the boss soon.

“What did he look like?” 

“What are you cops or something?” Irene said sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“No. We aren’t cops. But, we do have quite a few of the police on our payroll.” She visibly gulped, shifting uncomfortably under my stare. I was so close to finding Y/n, I could feel it. “Now tell me everything you remember about this guy.”

“I don’t know. He had brown hair. He looked like a foreigner, but he didn’t have an accent. I don’t remember his name. He was really cool looking, to be honest. Had that whole boy next door look, but you knew he was a bad guy. In a good way. Oh! He had a girl with him. I remember because she didn’t look like she was from around here and she was way out of his league.”

I listened carefully, a scowl forming on my face. Dowoon noticed my change in demeanor immediately. “You know who he is?” I nodded, turning towards the door. I was furious. Dowoon followed me out the door, eager to hear my answer.

“It’s Chan. Bang Chan. He’s got Y/n. And I’m gonna kill him.”

♛

Y/n’s POV

This morning I woke up early. I wanted to thank the boys for helping me finally leave that hell hole. Their kitchen was useless. Chan had practically nothing stocked and what little food there was Jisung devoured. So, instead in ordered them takeout.. 

Chan was set to come back around the time it got dark. Changbin was still holed up in the Pit, that’s what Jisung called his computer room. Jisung and I had taken over Chan’s living room, takeout, and soda bottles on the coffee table as we screamed at the drama playing on the huge TV.

“NO, YOU LOVE HER DON’T PUSH HER AWAY!” Jisung said as he grabbed onto my arm. Through tears, he reached for another slice of pizza.

“JISUNG WHY ARE WE WATCHING THIS? IT’S SO SAD!” 

He shook his head next to me and wiped his tears. “Because your teenagedom was deprived of sleepovers. And I am dubbing myself your official best friend.” I cried harder not only because Jisung was my new best friend but because the lead actress was chasing her lover through the rain. Jisung and I clung onto each other and continued our rant at the screen.

“Um.....what pre-teen girl tornado blew up in my house?” Turning we saw Chan walking through the front door, a confused look on his face.

“DADDY’S HOME!”

“Jisung stop screaming in my ear!” I yelled as he jumped over the couch. I then took in Chris’s attire. He wore a white coat and he had a stethoscope draped around his neck. His dark brown hair was pushed back and parted, exposing his (as I was just noticing now) handsome features.

“Someone answer my question.”

“I was showing Y/n  what it’s like to actually have fun with people her own age.”

“Since when were you or Y/n thirteen year old girls? What’s that I smell?” Jisung slowly moved his hands behind his back. “Holy sh**. Jisung you let her paint your nails?”

“What are you talking about? Jisung painted mine than practically forced me to do his.” Jisung’s eyes went wide and he turned around and made the shushing motion towards me. “What’s with the getup?” I asked Chris, changing the subject. “You look like a doctor.”

“Oh- it’s just uh....some business I had planned before this stuff happened.” I crossed my arms coming to stand next to my new BFF. Jisung glanced at me before crossing his arms like me and listing his head and pursing his lips.

“You know you can be honest and say you were working a con.”

“Fine, princess. I was working a con. Happy?” I shrugged and patted his shoulder.

Jisung chuckled and gave Chris a thumbs up before throwing an arm around my shoulder. “I think we should all call it a night. I’m starting a new life tomorrow after all!” With that, we left Chris standing in his fake doctor's coat in the living room. 

“Are you guys gonna clean up?”

“Nope!”

♛

A crash sent me shooting up from the bed. “What the hell?” I drowsily asked myself. Another one sent my eyes flying open like saucers. The bed shook and I practically screamed. Jisung shot up from the bed, drool on his mouth and blonde hair sticking up in all directions. 

“Jisung! What the hell? What are you doing in here?”

“The couch was lumpy. What’s going on?”

The third crash sent me rocketing out of bed. Suddenly the door burst open. I grabbed the closest thing which was the lamp on the bedside table. Chan burst through the door in sweatpants but lacking a shirt. 

“Oh- Sh**! WHAT IS WITH YOU AND LAMPS?”

“WHAT IS WITH YOU AND NOT WEARING A SHIRT?” 

“I’M SORRY IF I DIDN’T BOTHER TO PUT ON A SHIRT WHEN YOUR CHICKEN LEG BOYFRIEND IS ATTACKING MY HOUSE!”

“What? Jae is here?” I asked putting the lamp back The sound of gunshots confirmed Jae’s presence. “What is he shooting at?” I asked as I grabbed my shoes and started slipping them on.

“Wait, Jisung what are you doing here? You know what- nevermind. UH- Changbin. He’s throwing plates at your boyfriend and his monkey friend.” Chan started rummaging through the closet and throwing a bag and clothes at Jisung. “Get your stuff, princess. We’re about to make a getaway. Jisung meet us at the hideout in Gwanak. Get Bin out of here after we leave.”

“After? What about us?”

“You are gonna give us a head start,” Chan said pulling me out the door. 

“SO I’M BAIT?”

“Chan, are you gonna leave like this?” I asked, shouldering my bag. A peek over the railing revealed several men in black suits brandishing guns. Except they were clearly thugs and not agents looking for aliens. 

“I’ve got a getaway bag in the car.” He kept a strong grip on my hand and looked around him. He looked up and grabbed a metal pieced of artwork before adjusting our hands. “When I tell you to run, run. Got it? You run for the garage and don’t look back.” I nodded and he held the metal sheet in front of both of us. 

Chan pulled me down the stairs. “Hey! There he is! He’s got the girl!” The pounding sounds of gunshots rang against the metal sheet less than a foot away from my face. 

“Chan! I’m gonna kill you!” I heard the familiar voice of Jae scream. “Y/n! Come on let me take you back to your dad! Come back with me, beautiful.” If Jae really wanted me to come back with him sincerely he would tell Dad’s goons to stop SHOOTING AT CHRIS AND ME. 

“RUN, Y/N! NOW!” Chris yelled just as Jae charged him ripping away the metal sheet he was using as a shield. Following his instruction, I bolted for the garage. When I looked back I turned to see Jae land a pretty hard blow just above Chris’s eye. 

“Chris!” 

“Y/n, GO!” I sighed and burst through the garage door. That little-....There in pristine condition sat my father’s favorite lightning blue Porsche. I tossed my bag in the car and jumped in. My hands frantically searched for the keys. The sound of gunshots had my heart pounding against my chest. I found them in the glove compartment just as Chan burst through the door.

“START THE CAR!” 

“I’m going! I’m going.” 

The car started and Chan dove into the car. I opened the garage door, but it was only halfway up when the garage door opened again. I turned to see Jae and Dowoon in the doorway. Jae was bleeding from the nose and Dowoon hand a pieced of a plate in his cheek. “Y/n-GO!” 

“I can’t! The door!”

“Just GO!”

Screaming, I slammed my foot on the accelerator and the sports car shot forward, erupting through the garage door. “GET IN THE SUVs!” I heard Jae yell back into the house.

“How are Jisung and Bin gonna get out?” I asked keeping my eyes on the road, frantically looking behind me. 

“Don’t worry about them. They’ll meet us in Gwanak.” Chan reached behind him and pulled out a bag from behind the driver's seat. He slipped on a shirt he pulled out from the bag. “Woah! Wrong side of the road! Move over!” Chan screamed grabbing the wheel and steering the car onto the right side of the road. “What’s wrong with you? Do you not know how to drive?”

“NO I DON’T!” 

“YOU’RE DRIVING WITHOUT A LICENSE?”

“YOU SCAM PEOPLE FOR THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS AND YOU CARE ABOUT THIS!?” I said frantically and sporadically looking from the rearview mirror to the road ahead of me as we drove at top speed in the middle of the night. My skin went cold as I saw tow black SUVs appear behind us. “Chan...what do I do? They’re right behind us!”

He turned around and muttered a string of curse words. “Okay...um...We are gonna switch places.” Chris said turning back to me. 

“Chan we are going ninety-three miles an hour!” 

“Do you trust me?”

“.....Yes.”

“Okay, princess. On the count of three, I want you to let go of the wheel and take your foot off the pedal okay?” I nodded and got ready to do as he asked. In my peripherals, I saw Chan reach near my seat and I nervously looked behind me. “Ready, princess?” I nodded and gripped the steering wheel. “One...two...three!”

I let go of the pedal and steering wheel and Chris jerked my seat back and climbed over me. “Great job, love! You can move over to the other seat!” My heart was pounding against my chest. I was sure any second now I would fall into a panic attack. When I was safely in the passenger seat Chris pulled his seat forward and shifted the gear of the car. 

Chan did his best to shake the two tails we had on us. “Your boyfriend is seriously crazy,” Chan said shaking his head, turning down a narrow alley still going at top speeds. I gripped the door handle in fear. “He is seriously determined.”

“Again, not my boyfriend!” I said turning around to check how far away the sedans were. 

“Hold on tight, love,” Chan said, throwing his arm in front of me as we drifted into another tight alley. This time, Chris slid the car to a stop and shut off the lights and engine. “Get down, baby girl.” He said pushing my head down below the windshield. After a few seconds, we heard the SUVs race by us. Chan and I stayed down, his hand on the back of my neck and our heads inches away from each other.

“Well.....that was fun?”

♛

Ten minutes later Chan was pulling into another dark alley. We had finally made it to Gwanak without anyone following us. “Is this the safe house? Where are Changbin and Jisung?” Chris shook his head and shut off the Porsche. 

“No. We’ve got to make a stop first. We’ve gotta go deep undercover. Your face and mine are about to be plastered everywhere.” Chan got out of the car and before I could reach for the handle he was running around the front to open the door for me. “Come on, let’s hope he’s home,” Chris said quickly ushering me to a dimly lit back door.

“Who are we talking about?”

“An old friend,” Chan said pounding on the door. He kept his hand firmly on my waist. Every few seconds he scanned the alley, making sure we were still not followed. “Hey, it’s Chan! Open up!” 

“Chris, we should keep moving. I know Jae. He’s gonna figure out where we are soon enough.”

“All the more reason to be here.” He pounded on the door again. “Dude! Come on! You owe me! Open up!” While Chan continued to yell at the door I watched the ends of the alley, hoping not to see Jae or Dowoon rounding the corner.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. F***...” A muffled voice said from behind the door. Chan stepped back from the door and took my hand, dragging me further into his side. “F***ing sh**. Chan, d*** it. It’s two a.m!” An angry voice said as it approached the door. I flinched as it flew open. A giant of a man with bright red hair and dressed in a fancy robe appeared. “What, pipsqueak?”

“BamBam. Long time no see.”

“What do you want, Chan? I was asleep-.....who’s this hottie?” The cherry headed man, BamBam, said leaning on the doorway looking me up and down. 

“This is Y/n L/n,” Chan said his hand gripping onto my hip. BamBam’s eyes went wide and he slammed the door in our faces.

“NO! NO! I AM NOT DEALING WITH L/N’S SYNDICATE. NO. CHAN YOU CAN’T MAKE ME. A FAVOR IS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE BORROWING SUGAR. NOT BRINGING THE MOST DANGEROUS MAN IN SEOUL’S DAUGHTER TO MY DOOR!”

“BamBam you barely eat carbs let alone processed sugar.” The door opened and he stuck his head out. “Come on, Bam. We need your help. Or at least your bathroom.”

“Bathroom?” Both BamBam and I both questioned. 

♛

“What is this place?” I asked as BamBam lead us through the first floor of the building. It was covered head to toe with clothes and hats and crazy objects. 

“It’s my personal treasure trove. Everything your man Chan uses for his little schemes most likely came from here.” BamBam said picking up a policeman’s uniform and throwing it behind another rack of clothes. The giraffe with red hair rummaged through the piles of clothes and costumes. “Here, Chan. You need this.....and Y/n.....look through these.” BamBam tossed Chan a brown bottle and handed me a container with a bunch of hair in it.

“Wigs?”

“Don’t worry. They’re all the finest synthetic hair. Bathroom is back there, you two.” He said pointing a long finger in the correct direction. I smiled and tightened my hold on the box Chris’s weird friend gave me. “Stay as long as you need. I’m going back to bed.” BamBam dragged his feet up some stairs that probably led to where he was previously sleeping.

“You wanna help me with this, princess?” Chan said holding up the brown bottle in his hand. I shrugged and followed him to the back of the building. My eyes trailed down Chan’s shoulders as we looked for BamBam’s restroom. “Ah, here we go.” Chan opened the door and let me enter first. I dropped the big box on the toilet seat and started searching through them.

I heard Chan pull a chair into the bathroom from the hall. “Why does BamBam have all these? Chan shrugged and searched something up on his phone. “There are some weird colors in here.” He laughed as I threw a neon green wig at him.

“Oh yeah. That’s perfect for you, princess.” He laughed and tossed it back. “Have you ever bleached hair before?” Chris said looking at the bottle. I laughed seeing the familiar brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide. The bottle was a familiar sight from my mother’s bathroom counter. 

“Not personally.”

“Do I just like...pour it on?”

“If you want to permanently fry your hair! We can’t damage those cute curls you’ve got.” 

Without thinking I ran my fingers through Chris’s dark brown and tangled mop. His eyes looked me up and down, a small smirk. “Cute?” He asked, poking my side. He laughed when a rosy dust fell on my cheeks. “You want to help, princess?”

Chan sat down in the chair and handed me the brown bottle which I immediately put down. I looked around and grabbed two bottles from the shower. Chan watched me struggle to get the cap open like an idiot. “You good there?”

“This plastic bottle of.....designer conditioner....is smarter than me.” Chris laughed and reached for the bottle. In less than a second, the bottle popped open for him. He laughed when I sent him a glare. “I loosened it for you.”

“Sure, baby girl. Whatever.” He leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling,  a genuine smile on his face. Heat flushed to my face at the new pet name. Chan seemed unfazed by it. Nervously, I turned on the sink and began washing his hair. “What’s your favorite candy?” Chan asked as I was rinsing the conditioner out of his hair. 

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I’m bored. Entertain me, princess.”

“Okay...um...I like Milkyways.”

“Milkyways? Really?” 

“You bash my candy choice, pretty boy, and I’ll make sure your hair turns orange.” He laughed, his eyes turning into crescents. Chan continued to ask me random questions while I bleached his hair. It was fun getting to know Chris...well the real Chris. “You must really be dedicated if your bleaching your hair.”

“Bleaching my hair....or dying at the hands of your boyfriend. I choose the former.”

“Again. Jae is not my boyfriend.” I said squeezing hydroperoxide into his hair. Thank goodness BamBam had gloves in a cabinet otherwise my hands would be messed up. “Jae is just Jae.” I was surprised when I didn’t feel myself smile as I said his name. 

I took off the gloves as Chan sat forward, waiting for his hair to dry. “What’s the deal with you two anyway.” He asked poking my arm. “You two were totally into each other back at the penthouse.”

“Well...I think my feelings have changed after he shot at us.”

“Well, he was mostly shooting at me.”

“Yeah...guess he was, pretty boy.” I smiled looking down at Chan. He grabbed my hand and swung it back and forth. I glanced down and then back up at him. 

“Hey...it’s gonna be okay, Y/n. I’ll take care of it.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. He tugged on my wrist. My feet shuffled forward making me stand between his legs. Chris brushed his thumb over my hand. 

“Take care of what?” 

“Of you. I’ll make sure you get what you want.” Chan stared up at me with a look I had never seen before. It was hard to tear my eyes away from him. Like he had this hold on me. But, I felt safe with him. I felt fully myself. “We’ve got twenty minutes. Why don’t you try on some of those wigs? Put on a little fashion show for me, baby girl?” He said with a smile, leaning back in the chair, his hand still attached to my wrist. 

Chan laughed as I tried on all the crazy wigs BamBam had in the box. After his phone timer went off, I helped Chan wash his hair again. Then he let me towel dry his hair. “Woah,” I said, pulling the towel away. 

“Is it that bad?” He asked standing up and rushing to the mirror. He ran his fingers through his new blonde hair and he stared into the mirror at his locks. 

“No...you look really good.” 

He smirked and messed with the new blonde strands before turning to me with a bright smile. “You think so?” His hands rested on my waist, his thumbs grazing over the fabric of my t-shirt. There was a tension in the air. One that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. 

“Yeah, I do...” 

Hesitantly, I let my palms press against his chest. Was he going to kiss me? I could feel my stomach start to do somersaults. Chris leaned down, only barely enough for me to notice. He was. Chan was going to kiss me.

“HEY LOVEBIRDS! I NEED TO PEE!” BamBam said pounding on the door. 

The two of us burst apart, Chan scratching the back of his neck. “We should probably....- Bin and Sung are probably waiting for us.” Chris nervously grabbed my backpack and I grabbed the closest wig to me, stuffing my hair inside it. 

“Yeah totally.”

Chan opened the door for us to find a pissed off BamBam. “Can I pee now?” Chan laughed and took my hand, pulling me out into the hall. 

“Thanks for letting us hideout and stuff!” Chan called back to his friend who was already in the bathroom. Chris pulled me back out the Porsche, which was still sitting safely in the alley. Like a gentleman, Chan opened my door before sliding across the hood and getting in the driver seat.

He spared me a glance and cast a smile my way. “Short and Dark is a good look on you.” I brushed the wig’s bangs out of my eyes and blushed, turning away from Chan as he started the car and drove off into the early morning.

♛

Jae’s POV

“F***!” I exclaimed slamming my hand on a nearby table. Stressfully, I ran a hand through my hair. Dowoon just stood off to the side, awkwardly watching our guys rummage through the house. 

“That did not go the way I expected.”

Daggers flew from my eyes. He instantly shut his mouth. “Dowoon...she was right here. I missed her. She just...slipped through my fingers.” Dowoon waved off a man who was trying to ask him a question before turning back to me.

“You know she more ran...than slipped.”

“You’re right. She did run away.” I said standing up straight once again. “She practically flew when Chan told her to run.” My eyes returned to the door I watched Y/n run out of. 

“Why do you think she ran?”

“Chan’s probably got her brainwashed or something. I wouldn’t put it passed him.” I reached for the mail that was left on the kitchen counter. “Remember I want this entire place searched!” I called out to the men. “Man, she knew I was here for her. Why didn’t she come to me?” I said tossing it onto the marble island.

“Maybe she’s just not into you dude.”

“No. That’s not it. It’s got to be Chan. He must have told her everything about her dad and then freaked her out. It’s all his fault.” Dowoon, sifted through the week-old envelops I had tossed.

“What’s this? Does this Chan guy go to university?”

“What- no?” I scoffed and leaned against the counter. “He barely has his highschool diploma.” I watched Dowoon pick up a magazine and flip it over.

“Maybe one of the guys that were here. The blonde one looked kind of young...and dumb.” Dowoon flipped through the magazine smiling at some of the pictures.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged and tossed it to me. I flipped through the magazine and saw it was a college-based magazine. Student made. “Well...that magazine is only sold in Gwanak. Near Seoul University.” My eyes went wide and I looked at the cover of the magazine. 

“I’ve got a call to make. We need another pair of eyes.”

“More than the thirteen guys we have now.”

“I just want her back Dowoon...” I said pulling out my phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I found the one I needed. Pressing the name, I brought the device to my ear and waited for the dial tone to end.

“Hey. It’s me. Look, I need you to find someone. This asshat took her...She’s somewhere in Gwanak, we know that.” I listened to him speak while drumming my fingers on the counter.

“Yeah. You’ll get the money when you get her and bring her safely back to me.” I pursed my lips, feeling myself getting angry as he asked his next question.

“I don’t care what happens to the guy she’s with. Just get her back.” With that, I hung up the phone.

♛

Chan’s POV

Jogging around the blue car, I opened Y/n’s door and helped her out. She grabbed her bag and started walking towards the dark apartment building. The sun would be rising in a couple of hours. I reached for her hand and led her up the stairs to the top level. 

She laughed when we came to the door. “Another passcode? Mr. Privacy?” I smiled and shrugged my shoulders, taking her backpack for her. 

“The code is #0325.” She turned to me and smiled. 

“You trust me with the code to your safehouse?” I shrugged and tried to hide the smile on my face. I watched as her fingers touched each number gingerly on the keypad. She smiled when the bright tone notified her that the door was unlocked.

“Y/N’S HOMMMMMEE!” Jisung yelled. I heard his feet thundering down the small hall. I rolled my eyes when Jisung tackled Y/n out of my grasp, hugging her tightly. With serious eyes, he turned to me, still holding onto Y/n. “From now on, Y/n and I are inseparable! You will not drag her into messes and get her killed! She is my best friend!”

I sent Jisung a hard glare and took one step towards him making the blonde squeal, hiding behind Y/n. “Sorry, Chan. Nevermind take her she’s yours. I can see now that I clearly overstepped my boundaries.” Jisung said, words flying out of his mouth faster than I could comprehend. 

“What’s going on?” Y/n asked. I saw Changbin saunter into the hall and join us. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and face stoic.

“Don’t worry. Chan just wants you all to himself.” The short boy said smirking at me.

“WHAT?!” Both Y/n and I exclaimed looking from each other to Changbin. Y/n turned to me, a curious look on her face. The same one from when we first met, except this time my head didn’t hurt.

“Well...this isn’t awkward at all,” Jisung said, coming out from behind Y/n. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and puffed out his cheeks, looking around the four of us. “Hey, Y/n, lemme show you something!” He practically dragged her out from the hall and towards the bedroom. Fearing for what he did to my apartment, I followed.

“So, what is it you're showing me, Sung?” Y/n asked and Jisung guided her into my room. Wait. Sh**. My room.

“This was originally Chan hyung’s room, but I figured with a few touches you would like it better! I figured since he loves you and all he can sleep on the sofa.” They entered the room a few feet ahead of me. “It’s his turn to have back problems. Y/n gasped. I rounded the corner and my jaw dropped.

“JISUNG, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM? HOW DID YOU EVEN GET ALL THIS?”

My room was plastered with posters and pictures of unicorns and rom-com movie posters. It looked like a fourteen year old girl from a Disney channel sitcom threw up their essence all over my bedroom. There were boyband posters and albums everywhere and heart shaped hangers in the closet. My clothes were in a huge black pile in the corner marked ‘Chan’s Sh**’. One wall on the far side was spray-painted pink and stuffed animals were all around the room. 

“When did you have time to do all of this? We got here two hours after you! Where did this all come from?” I said picking up a Super Junior album that was sitting on what used to be my dresser.

“You’d be surprised,” Changbin said standing in the doorway. 

I sighed and turned to Jisung. He turned to me with an innocent smile as I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out into the hall while Y/n continued to marvel at the room. “Sung...you do understand she’s not staying right? We are just helping her get to Jeju so she can start a new life.” He stared down at the ground, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. His light blonde fell in front of his eyes as he looked back up at me.

“You don’t really want that...do you?” 

I looked into his eyes. My friend looked genuinely sad. No, that wasn’t what I wanted. Not now at least. Maybe before, but it wasn’t what I wanted now. “What I want doesn’t matter. It’s what she wants.” I said patting his shoulder. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah...of course...”

Jisung sulked back into my room, which I would be burning after Y/n went to Jeju. “Jisung! Thank you so much! I love it!” Y/n said hugging a huge stuffed toy.

“Sung, how did you even pickpocket a three foot tall stuffed rabbit and four B.A.P posters?” I asked looking at the toy Y/n was holding in her arms. I tried to suppress the thumping against my chest at the sight. 

“Chan I don’t remember asking for your opinion, but it’s called talent, okay?”

Y/n laughed and set the bunny down next to my bed. She gasped and picked up a heavy purple candle on the bedside table. “Oh, a candle! I love these! I always had candles and stuff like that in my room at home!” I saw Jisung’s face turn soft and he ran out of the room.

“HOLD ON ONE SECOND!” He screamed through the less than small apartment. He returned with a hand full of candles. 

“Oh no no no no no,” I said pushing him back out of the room. 

 “What? Y/n says she loves candles.’ Jisung said shrugging and trying to push past me and back into the bedroom, where we heard Changbin and Y/n talking. 

“Jisung I will not have candles in my house after she attacked me with one!”

“What about incense?”

“NO SMELLY THINGS!” I shivered at the thought of what Y/n could accidentally do to me with burning incense. My eyes found Y/n walking out of the room holding the lit candle, her eyes happy. 

“Chan, thank you so much for helping me and for all of this! And Jisung, I really love the candle.” With that, she went back into the room and jumped onto the bed.

Jisung turned back to me with his eyebrows raised. I crossed my arms and then looked back to Y/n sitting happily on my bed watching the candle flicker happily. I felt Jisung nudge me bringing my attention back to him. “Okay...one candle.”

“Bro, you are so whipped.”

“Shut up before I throw you off the roof with all those candles strapped to your head.”

“You wouldn’t...”

  ♛

Y/n’s POV

Chan slept in his room that night. Well, he rested. He said it would be hard to sleep with all those pop stars and animals staring at him. I had told him I wasn't tired, so I scrolled through the phone Jisung had pocketed for me. 

When the boys awoke a few hours later, I had prepared breakfast for them. This place was actually stocked with food. I gasped seeing Jisung emerge from the guest room. He had bruises on his shoulder and the strong scent of candles came from him. 

“Sung, what happened to you?” I said taking his face in my hands. He glared at Chan as he exited his bedroom and sat down at the kitchen table. 

“Ask your newly blonde boyfriend.” He said sitting in the farthest seat from Chris. 

When I turned to Chan he just gave me a sweet smile and turned back to the breakfast I had made. “This is good, princess.” He said slipping a strawberry into his mouth. I blushed and sipped on the mug of tea I had made earlier. 

“So, what’s the plan today?” I asked, setting the cup down.

Chan took a sip of the orange juice in the glass near him and looked to me. “Changbin still needs templates to get you IDs. Jisung knows where to get some, but I’m not gonna leave you here so you’ll come with us to the meeting.” I nodded and took another sip of tea.

“Sounds good.”

“We’ll leave in like...an hour?” Chan said.

 Jisung turned to me, mouth full of toast and berries. His eyes turned down and his cheeks were full, but somehow he still managed to frown with toast sticking out of his mouth. “I’m gonna need more than an hour. It’s just too good.” Jisung muttered with his mouth full.

“Fine. Y/n just go get ready, princess. Don’t forget the wig.”

♛

The black bangs of the wig kept blowing in my face. It was about noon when we finally left Chris’s apartment. “Stay right here, princess. Jisung and I are gonna go pick up the templates.” Chan said stopping in front of one of the many stalls around us. He had taken us to a local thrifting fair. A bunch of college students milled about, helping us blend in. 

“Okay, what should I do while I wait.” 

“I know the shop owner, so they’ll let you stay at the booth.” His hand rested gently on my arm as he spoke to me over the noise of the crowd. “Just pretend you are looking for a gift.” He motioned to the wares the vendor was selling. “I’ll be back soon. If someone asks, just say you’re waiting for your boyfriend or something.” 

Chan and Jisung left and I watched them disappear into the crowd. Running my fingers through the short locks of the wig I waved to the vendor who sent me a polite smile. There was plenty to look at from the booth. The woman was selling very pretty handmade silver jewelry.

I picked up a very simple chain necklace with a small silver ring on it. I thought about how nice it would look on Chan. Maybe I had enough cash with me to get it for him?

“That’s very pretty.” A voice said behind me.

A man came to stand beside me. He had shaggy black hair and a boxy smile. His long fingers picked up the necklace and held it up to the light before gently giving it back to me. “Thank you,” I said, keeping my answer short.

“Is it for you or is it a gift?” The boy asked again.

I sighed and avoided looking at him. “Um...a gift.” He nodded and began looking at other necklaces. Every so often he would cast a look my way. 

“I’m Wonpil, by the way.” I nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile. Why would he not go away? I put the necklace down and moved further down the table, pretending to look at other things. “What’s your name?”

“Uh...Jessica...”

I said turning back to the table. He nodded and moved down the row as well. He moved o the other side of the table to look there. However, he was clearly intent on talking to me. “So, Jessica...are you here by yourself, or are you with friends?” I nervously laughed and looked in the direction Chris left.

“I’m here with my boyfriend. I’m waiting for him to come back.” 

Wonpil gave me a kind smile and went back to looking at jewelry. I glanced up at the boy. There was something off about him. He was just barely too old to be a university student. Maybe he just lived near here?

“So, is it a gift for him?” I nodded, then turned my attention to the box of rings near the middle of the table. “What’s his name?” Should I give Chris’s name? No. That would be a bad idea. I don’t want him to get hurt.

“His name is Chanyoung.”

Wonpil nodded and continued pursuing the wares and jewelry. Come one, Chris. Where are you? “Has he been gone long? You seem nervous.” I laughed and shook my head.

“He and our friend just went to go pick up something. He’ll be back...any minute now.”

“I’ll wait with you if you’d like?” Wonpil suggested, that kind smile on his face. He came around my side of the table and placed a hand on my shoulder. I shook my head and backed away.

“I’m fine, really-”

“Hey, baby girl! Sorry to keep you waiting.” I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist and lips press against my cheek. I turned to see Chan with a cool and composed smile on his face. “We didn’t mean to be gone for so long.” His hand came up to my cheek and he pressed his lips against mine like he had done it thousands of times before.

Not wanting to break the charade I closed my eyes and let him kiss me. Chan pulled away and pecked my lips once more before Jisung coughed and gently kicked him. “Oh- sorry. I’m her boyfriend. Who are you?” Chan said holding out his hand to shake.

“Oh, you're Chanyoung. I’m Wonpil.” They shook hands and I could see Chan’s face sour for just a second. His eyes glanced at me and then doubled back. 

“Oh, baby, you’ve got a bug on you!” 

“I’ll get it!” Jisung shouted, eyeing my shoulder. He swatted the bug away, grabbing it in his fist. I looked at the two boys wondering what was going on. “Hey, we’ve got lunch plans so we should go soon,” Jisung said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Did you get what you needed to get, baby?” I asked, palms pressing against Chan’s chest. His grip was still firm around my waist, keeping me as close as possible.

“Yeah! Let’s go get lunch, baby girl.” Chan said kissing me again. “It was nice to meet you Wonpil,” Chris said waving goodbye before steering me in the opposite direction of the booth. Jisung followed us and sped up to keep our pace. “Y/n, who was that guy?”

I shrugged and looked back. Wonpil was no longer at the booth. “I have no clue.” Chan shook his head and gripped my side tighter. 

“He’s gotta know who you are.” The three of us walked through the streets of the thrift fair quickly hoping to evade whoever it was Wonpil actually turned out to be. “He actually planted a bug on you. That’s why Jisung and I freaked out.” I shivered. My feeling about Wonpil had been right. We walked a little further before Jisung spoke up again.

“So...like, can we actually get lunch though?”

♛

The little bell rang as the three of us entered a little sushi shop Jisung knew about. “Jisung didn’t you have sushi like four days ago?” He shrugged and led us to a secluded booth in the back. A few waitresses waved at him as we passed by.

“Chan, you can never have too much sushi. Plus I get discounts here.” 

“How do you get discounts?” I asked.

“Used to date the owner’s daughter. She dumped me. He still liked me so... free sushi.”

I nodded, still not quite understanding as I slid into the booth. Chan scooted in next to me, his leg just barely touching mine. My hands reached for the menu, but Jisung quickly whisked them away. “Nope. I’m ordering for us.” Chan laughed and pressed his hands to his temples. The waitress came by and Jisung ordered practically everything on the menu and sake.

“Jisung that is a lot of food.”

“I’m a lot of hungry.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Chan said throwing his arm over the back of the booth. Jisung shrugged and started blowing bubbles in his water with the straw. “You are such a child,” Chris said laughing.

“Speaking of, I need to pee,” Jisung announced. I grounded and shoved my face into my hands. Jisung hopped out of the booth and shuffled to the restroom. That left me and Chris...alone.

“So...”

“So...”

We looked at each other and burst out laughing. “You kissed me,” Chan nodded and looked away. I was surprised to see a dark blush on Chan’s ears. “Thank you. For saving me from whoever that guy was.” Chan shrugged, a shy smile lighting up his face. His fingers tapped against the booth. 

“My pleasure.”

“Your pleasure saving me, or your pleasure kissing me.”

“Would you be mad if I said both?” 

It was my turn to blush and look away. My fingers locked onto the cold glass filled with water and I took a heavy sip, before turning back to Chris. “Not...entirely,” I said unable to keep the smile from leaking onto my lips. Chris looked around the restaurant before looking back at me.

“Would you be mad if I did it again?”

“Not entirely,” I said, a smirk flirting its way onto the corner of my mouth. 

I felt Chan’s other hand reach for min under the table, making me smile. “If I kiss you, you promise you won’t whack me with like a lamp or something right?” I laughed and rubbed my thumb across his hand. He smiled when I shook my head ‘yes’. Slowly he leaned closer until he was only a breath away. 

“You gonna make me wait for it, pretty boy, or what?” 

He let out a soft breathy laugh before connecting his lips to mine. He tasted like the strawberries from this morning; sweet and decadent. Chris deepened the kiss and laced his fingers with mine. My heart pounded against my chest as his lips ghosted over mine. He pulled away just long enough to smile before coming back for more. It felt like Chan and I were the only two people in the world.

“WHY THE F*** ARE YOU KISSING MY BESTFRIEND?!”

I heard a loud clang and several shouts and pulled away to see Chris grasping the back of his head and Jisung standing there holding a waitress’s tray. “What the hell man?” Chan exclaimed.

“STOP! KISSING! Y/N!” Jisung said, whacking Chris each time.

“Jisung! Chill out! I wanted him to!” I said to the tray maniac in front of me. “It’s okay! I wanted him to kiss me.” Jisung slowly lowered the tray, giving Chris a wary eye. Chan rubbed the back of his head and I cupped his face checking to see if anything was bleeding.

“Okay...fine. Sorry. I got a tad bit overprotective.” Jisung said completely lowering the tray and sitting back down. “Oh- here this is yours.” He said handing the metal tray to the confused waitress. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave a big tip!” Jisung said with an innocent smile as if nothing ever happened.

Nervously, the waitress walked away to get our food. Now, safe from Jisung’s wrath, Chris gently reached for my hand under the table. I smiled feeling his thumb gently rub circles on my skin.

“Jisung, don’t you think that was a little overkill?” Chan asked as the waitresses set down mountains of sushi in front of us. He shook his head and dived into the flavorful bites.

“Not at all. A psychic once told me my spirit animal was a vicious chihuahua.”

“I can attest to that,” Chris said before placing a roll onto my plate. I smiled at him and ate the piece. “Okay, let’s eat and get out of here.” We all nodded and ate quickly, enjoying every bite.

“I don’t know if they’ll let me back in here,” Jisung said after we paid the bill.

♛

The three of us rode back to the safe house in the Porsche, Jisung sat with his legs squished to his chest in the back. When we got out Chan punched in the code and we all spilled across the living room in food comas.

“What happened to you guys?” Changbin said wandering into the living room.

“Sushi coma,” I said laying across Chan’s lap. Changbin nodded as if completely understanding. I looked over to see Jisung lying face down on the sofa, his butt sticking up in the air. 

“Did you guys get the templates?”

Without speaking Jisung started rummaging around his pocket until he pulled out what looked like a blank passport and ID card and raised it in the air. His head was still thoroughly buried in the cushions.

“Great. I should have these done in like...four hours. Then you can start your new life.” Bin said checking the templates. I watched him leave the room before staring back up at the ceiling. My fingers tucked under the hairline of the wig and I pulled it and the wig cap off my head. 

“I like your natural hair better than that old thing,” Chan stated, pulling the hair tie from my updo. He ran his fingers through my hair, shaking it loose as I stared up at him. “You better not change it too much once you get to Jeju.” I laughed and tossed the wig onto the coffee table. 

“Y/n, do you really have to go?” Jisung whined. He had turned his face just enough so he could speak without sounding like he had cotton balls in his mouth. “I’m going to miss my new best friend so much!” 

“I don’t think it’s safe for you all here. The longer I’m with you the more Jae is going to come after me.” 

Jisung sighed and put his butt down, fully laying on the couch. Chan and Jisung eventually fell asleep in their places, but I stayed awake thinking about what was to come. I was less excited about leaving Seoul than I was before. Jisung was in Seoul. Changbin was in Seoul. Chan was in Seoul. I would be in Jeju. All by myself.

I felt like they were my family now. Chan stirred in his sleep, his fingers twitching on top of my stomach. Gently, I traced light patterns on the back of his hand. “Did you not sleep?” He asked drowsily, lifting his head.

“No.”

“Thinking about Jeju?” I nodded and played with his fingers. It was easy to tell I was nervous. “You know, Yn,” He whispered, wrapping his hand around mine. “I could always stay with you the first couple of days. Just to make sure everything is alright of course.” Chan shrugged, but couldn’t stop the little smile edging itself onto the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, of course. Just to make sure everything is alright.”

“Yeah, just for that.” 

I laughed, keeping it quiet hoping not to wake Jisung. “Oh, I have something to give you. Actually two things.” I said, getting up from the couch. Chan watched me bring my backpack from his bedroom and sit back down next to him. He waited patiently as I dug through the bag. “Here is the first,” I said. Chan’s eyes widened when I pulled out the diamond necklace.

“But, I haven’t gotten you to Jeju yet?” I shrugged, placing it in his hands. 

“You’ve already been through so much for me.” He looked from me to the jewels in his hands. He gently placed it on the coffee table, before pulling me close and kissing my cheek. “And... the second thing. Hold on.” I tried to hold back my grin as I pulled the silver chain out of my pocket.

“Where in the world did you get this?” Chan said, as I delicately placed the necklace in his hand.

“Jisung may have taught me a few things. It’s from the booth you left me at.” He laughed and looked at the simple piece of jewelry. “It’s nothing much. I just saw it and thought of you. It can be something to remember me by.”

“Baby girl it will be near impossible to forget you.” I smiled as he traced his finger along my jaw, bringing me closer. His lips brushed over mine, sending butterflies into wild flight patterns in my stomach.

Chan pulled away, a soft smile lighting up his eyes. I watched as he draped the necklace over his neck. “Would you really come with me to Jeju?” He nodded, his grin growing as I cupped his cheek.

“Guys get a room. Some of us are trying to take a nap!” Jisung said throwing a cushion at us.

♛

I looked at the passport and ID in my lap. Changbin had done an incredible job. These looked immaculate. My fingers brushed over my imprinted picture. “You take a pretty good photo,” Chan said, glancing over at me with a smile. 

He sat beside me in the driver’s seat of the Porsche, watching the road. “I’m sure you do too.” Chan shook his head, checking the rearview mirror.

“Nah. No pictures. Part of my job description.” 

“You don’t have any pictures of yourself?” I laughed bewildered, as he shook his head. Chan shrugged, pulling into the line for cars to board the ferry. “How far away are we?” Chris let out a hefty sigh, dropping his hands from the steering wheel as we inched forward closer to the boat. His fingers reached over and held onto mine.

“Um...I’d say about forty-five minutes on the boat and another twenty to get to the house.” Chan leaned his head against the seat, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. “You’re almost there, Y/n.” I turned in my seat, leaning against the headrest.

“Thank you, Chris. For everything.” The blonde shrugged it off, a shy smile spreading to his cheeks. Soon we made it onto the boat. Chan parked the Porsche near the bow of the ferry. With both our stomachs rumbling, Chan went up to the top deck before bringing us back down cheap slices of pizza.

The radio played softly while Chan and I laughed and ate the subpar pizza in his car. I giggled when Chris took one of the crusts from my plate and stuffed it in his mouth. “Don’t steal my food!” 

“Can I steal something else then?” Chris said turning to the setting sun.

“If you’re gonna say something cheesy like my heart, I’ll toss you over the railing.”

He laughed, taking my hand again. “Fine, I won’t.” I played with the silver bands and rings around his fingers. It felt so normal to be with Chris. Everything about him felt...good. Wonderful. “Please let me finish! Y/n I haven’t been cheesy in so long.” He almost whined, bringing our hands up to his forehead. 

“Fine...” I groaned though a smile was still creeping its way onto my face. “What are you going to steal then?” I said cringing and closing my eyes. They opened when I felt his hand on my jaw.

“First I was thinking, a kiss...” His lips ghosted over mine, leaving a lasting sensation when he pulled away. “Then maybe another...” His lips pressed against mine again, his thumb running over the back of my hand. His forehead rested against mine. “Why don’t you just give me your heart?” He whispered,

“Why should I do that, pretty boy?” 

He smiled, glancing at the sunset before his eyes looked back into my own. “Because you already have mine.” My teeth dragged across my bottom lip, desperately trying to hide the grin I was threatening to give him. Tilting my head, I pressed a kiss to his cheek and then again on his jaw. 

“Do I really now?” Chan nodded his head softly. His eyes twinkling in the setting sun. “Well, that was fast,” I whispered before leaning forward and kissing him.

♛

The sun was almost gone from the sky when we pulled up to the house in Jeju. I was surprised to find it right on the beach. The house was lined with huge windows on every side facing the ocean. “Chan, you can’t be serious right? This is yours?” 

I watched him come around to my side of the Porsche. “Nope. It’s not mine.” He said wrapping his arms around me from behind. He smelled like cinnamon. His long fingers wrapped around mine before pressing something into my palm. “It’s yours, baby girl.”

Opening my hand, I saw a set of keys. “Chan this house...it must have cost a small fortune. I can’t take this from you.” He shrugged, kissing my shoulder. 

“I’ve got the one in Itaewon. The apartment in Gwanak. And maybe...a small place in Bora Bora.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Come on! Let’s go inside and see your new house!” Chan said dragging me inside. I laughed and let him pull me inside. He showed me every inch of the house. It was bright and open and gorgeous. I covered my mouth as Chan led me out into the sunroom. The walls were entirely windows and stairs to the right led down to the waterfront. “You like it?” Chan asked.

I turned to see him standing in the doorway holding a bottle and two glasses. “What is this?” I asked with a laugh. He smiled and sat on the day bed on the porch. 

“This,” He said popping the bottle open. “This is your housewarming party.” I watched with a smile as he poured me a glass of champagne. His fingers brushed against mine as I took the flute. “I know it’s not the parties you’re used to.”

I took a small sip of the bubbly drink and smiled. “Are you kidding?” I said, standing between Chan’s legs and looking down at him as he poured his own glass and took a drink. “This is the best party I’ve ever been to.”

The waves crashed on the beach behind us. A cool breeze blew through some of the opened windows, but I felt warm near Chan, his hands around my waist. “You’re just saying that cause I’m here,” Chan whispered.

“So what if I am. It’s the truth.” I said running a hand through his hair. 

“Come here, baby.” He whispered, pulling me down onto his lap. I took another sip from the champagne, before reaching across Chan and setting it on a table. “F***, you’re beautiful.” He whispered, pushing a piece of hair away from my face. I smiled, draping my arms around his neck. 

“You keep saying things like that and I’m going to have to keep you here with me.” 

“Do you see me leaving?” 

He smiled when my fingers carded through his blonde locks. His arms wrapped tightly around me, pulling him closer to me than I thought possible. My lips reached down for his desperate for even more of his touch. 

I felt a cool breeze on my back as Chan’s hands pushed up the hem of my shirt. I shivered feeling his hands on my bare skin. His lips attacked mine as if I was the only thing in this world keeping him alive. I let my fingers drag down his chest. He smiled against me, feeling me play with the hem of his shirt.

His teeth dragged over my bottom lip giving me goosebumps. My hands traveled under his shirt. I was surprised to feel so much muscle under my hands as they rested on his stomach. Chan smirked before he turned his attention to my neck. 

Having had enough of the barrier between myself and Chan I tugged his shirt off, holding onto him tightly as he marked my neck. “Chan...” I whispered, bringing my lips back to his. 

“Sh**,” 

Chan let out a content sigh and pushed me down onto the cushion of the day bed. “How about...we move this somewhere...you know....not outside?” I said between heated kisses from the man above me. He nodded before kissing down my jaw. “Chan, did you hear me?” I asked the breath leaving my chest feeling his teeth graze my skin.

“Sorry...I got a little distracted,” Chan admitted with a smile. I laughed feeling Chan pick me up. “Into your house, we go!” I laughed as he carried me in his arms through the dark living room and down the hall. The master bedroom was full of moonlight from the huge windows on the far wall. I screeched as Chris tossed me onto the big bed. 

“CHAN!” 

He laughed and jumped onto the bed. I smiled as his lips rejoined with mine. His body fit perfectly into all the curves of my own. I sighed against his lips feeling his hips press down against mine. I tangled my fingers in his hair pulling on the blonde locks. 

I watched the moon glisten over the ocean before my eyes closed, the only thing on my lips the name of the man with me.

♛

Jae’s POV

My fingers drummed against the wood of the desk. Not my desk. No. I didn’t get a desk. This was the desk of an old friend. A friend who was late to meet with Dowoon and me. “Wasn’t he supposed to be here an hour ago?” Dowoon said, messing with some of the books on a shelf. 

I kept my feet propped up on the desk and my stare focused on the door. To keep myself busy I had been disassembling and reassembling my firearm and timing myself. “Don’t worry. He owes me more than one favor.” I said slamming the gun down on the desk.

The door creaked open and both our eyes shot to the door. “Woah! You guys scared me. Jae, you look like the f***ing Grim Reaper himself.”

“I will be if I don’t find her. Then, believe me, Wonpil, if I don’t find her and kill that bastard; then there will be too many souls for the gates of heaven to hold.” In the corner of my eye, I saw Dowoon shiver.

“Dude.....that’s creepy,” Wonpil said, tossing a folder onto his desk.

“Jae just really loves Y/n,” Dowoon said with a dopey smile.

I rolled my eyes and picked the gun up off the desk. “What did you find?” Wonpil stat on the edge of the table, casting me a side glance. Dowoon picked up the file my friend entered with.

“I planted a bug on her, but one of the dudes with her snagged it.” Wonpil got up and shooed me from his chair. Reluctantly I complied. He stuck a flash drive from his pocket into his computer. 

“The guy who took the bug- dark hair, foreign-looking?” I asked.

“No.” He said opening up a program. “Both of the guys with her were blonde. She also went by a different name. She called herself Jessica.” I sighed, rubbing my temples. Chan had definitely gotten in her head.

“Sh**.”

“You’re really not gonna like this. One of the guys she was with- she called him her boyfriend. Not gonna lie, she looked happy.” Everyone jumped when my fist slammed into the nearest wall.

Taking a few deep breaths, I calmed myself down and waited for Wonpil to access whatever file he wanted to show me. “The bug should still be going, though.” With a few clicks, Wonpil started playing a live feed.

The sound of two male voices filled the office. “Dude...I’m gonna miss Y/n so much!!” One yelled. Wonpil sighed.

“That’s one of the guys she was with. Not her boyfriend, the other one.” Wonpil stated.

“Don’t worry, Sung. Chan will be back from Jeju any day now. He just went with her to make sure she settled in alright.” I pushed myself off the wall I was leaning in. She was in Jeju. With Chan. I was fuming. 

“Are you sure she was taken?” Wonpil asked. “Because it sounds to me like she was paying these guys to take her.” Dowoon laughed and poked Wonpil’s shoulder.

“No way. Y/n loved her life in the penthouse.” 

Wonpil shrugged and continued to listen to the live feed. “Do you even know where is place is in Jeju?” The rougher voice asked. The one called ‘Sung’ laughed. 

“Of course not. That was Chan’s special place. He never took anyone there.”

“And he’s just giving it to her?”

I sighed rubbing my eyes. “Okay, can you track this thing?” I asked looking over Wonpil’s shoulder. He nodded and tapped away on the keyboard. Impatiently I waited to see where these little sh**s were hiding.

“Looks like the bug is in an apartment complex near Seoul University,” Wonpil said pointing at the screen. I nodded to Dowoon, who took the file from earlier and stuffed it in his jacket.

“Thanks, Wonpil. We’ve got some business to take care of.”

♛

Y/n’s POV

Three days had passed. Three incredible, wonderful, magical days. All spent with Chan. Spent drinking wine on the beach, spent making homemade dinners in the amazing kitchen, spent in bed where Chris whispered sweet nothings into my ear as I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes to be greeted with the morning light seeping in through the large windows of my bedroom. I sat up in bed watching the waves crash against the sand. This was my life now, I thought a sleepy smile spreading across my face.

I looked beside me to see Chan missing from his side of the bed. “Chan?” I called out. Maybe he was in the kitchen. “Babe?” My bare feet pressed against the cool wood floor and I grabbed Chan’s black shirt from off the floor. The fabric brushed against my thighs as I walked into the kitchen.

“Chris?”

“Out here, baby girl,”  I followed Chan’s voice out into the sunroom. He sat on the day bed most of the windows cracked open and the doors were propped letting the warm morning breeze flow through the room. His blonde hair blew slightly in the wind. “Hi, baby.” He said setting down a coffee mug.

“What are you drinking?” I said crawling over him and nuzzling into his side. 

“Tea. You want some?” 

I shrugged feeling his arm wrap around me. “I’ll get some later.” I closed my eyes and enjoyed being next to him. He sighed as I ran my fingers up and down his chest softly. 

“Is that my shirt?” 

“Maybe...”

“It looks good on you.” He whispered, placing a kiss on the top of my head. I draped my leg over his and rested my head on his chest. “Did you sleep well?” His arm wrapped tightly around my back, rubbing my side. I nodded and looked up at him.

“What were you doing out here?”

“I was trying to get in touch with the boys,” Chan said pulling out his phone. “Jisung isn’t answering my calls, which isn’t far from normal.” He sighed and scrolled through various text messages. “But, neither is Changbin.” His brows furrowed and he placed his phone next to the mug.

“Do you need to leave early? To check on them.”

“You couldn’t rid of me if you tried.” 

I laughed looking up at him. “You keep saying things like that, but how do I know you’ll actually do it?” He scoffed and sat up. I scooched upward so I could still lay on his chest. 

“You see that out there,” Chan said pointing out into the ocean. “That whatever is out there.” He smiled, looking down at me before he turned back to the sea. “Japan, the Philipines, whatever is in that direction. I would swim there and back if you asked me to, without hesitation.”

“You don’t know what’s in that direction?” I said with a laugh.

“Y/n you are missing my point!” Chan said chuckling.

“No, I get it. I was just teasing you, Chris.” Leaning up I pressed my lips to his. Chan smiled and pulled me fully on top of him. His fingers tangled themselves in my hair. I felt his heartbeat going crazy against my hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am now,” I whispered against his lips.

“You make me happy,” Chan whispered, looking up at me. “I swear if you tell the boys I ever said something like that I’ll be so embarrassed.” I giggled watching him cover his face, hiding the blush growing on his cheeks.

“Don’t worry, I wo-”

I was cut off by a crash coming from inside the house. Both our heads shot towards the sound. “Did you leave something on the edge of the counter?” Chan asked staring at the door leading back into the house. His grip on my waist tightened when I shook my head.

“No...Chan, what’s going on?”

The door burst open and I screamed seeing Dowoon aiming his gun at the both of us. “Jae they are out here!” He called back into the house. 

“Dowoon!” I screeched, pulling down Chan’s shirt further over my legs. Before I could say anything else, Dowoon grabbed Chan roughly by the arm and pulled him away and into the house. “Let him go! Dowoon!” I screamed and pounded on the man’s back. 

My eyes widened as he threw Chan down onto the floor in the living room. Right at the feet of Park Jae. The man who used to make my heart skip a beat. Now I was furious. “Chan!” I screamed, holding onto him. 

“I’m fine, just stay behind me.” He whispered to me, getting up. Chan stood tall, though his height was no match for the whopping half a foot Jae had on him. I did as Chan told me, sending a glare at Jae from behind Chris, my fingers holding tightly onto his arm.

“Really, Y/n. You’re with this guy!?” Jae screamed pointing his gun at Chan. “What about us?” Jae said quieting down. He looked genuinely hurt. 

“Jae it wouldn’t have worked...” Chan laced his fingers with mine, still keeping his eyes on Jae and Dowoon. 

“Look, Jae...I remember you from a couple years ago. This isn’t you. Let’s put the gun down and handle this like men.” Chan said with a calm tone. Jae scoffed. 

“Fine.” Jae tossed his gun to Dowoon and nodded to him. “Let’s settle this like men.” I heard the sound of his fist making contact with Chan’s face before I saw it. Chan reacted immediately pushing Jae off him before landing a punch of his own. 

My eyes widened when I heard the front door opened. During the scuffle, Dowoon had exited and was now dragging in two men. “HEY MAN WATCH IT! I bruise easily.” I would know that voice anywhere.

“Jisung?” His blonde head turned to me eyes wide.

“Y/n! Y/n, save me from this Mad Monkey Man!” 

“CHAN STOP! They have Ji and Bin!” Chan’s eyes widened and he looked up to see his friends being held by Dowoon. I pulled him off of Jae, who stood up and dusted off his suit. He smirked seeing our reaction to the boys. Jae shrugged off his jacket and turned to our friends. Even Bin looked a little scared. “Jae, leave them out of this.” 

“I can’t do that Y/n. I know for a fact...this one,” He said grabbing the back of Jisung’s hair and lifting up his head. “Was seen helping you make a getaway in Gwanak and he was at the house in Itaewon.” Jisung struggled against Jae’s grip. “Gave Dowoon quite the scar on his cheek.” I turned to see in fact Dowoon had a fresh scar on his left cheek.

I let out a short scream as Jae’s fist flew across Jisung’s face. My friend glared up at him and spat on the floor, a dark red substance falling from his lips. “don’t hurt him.” Jae’s eyes widened and a surprised smile spread over his face.

“Well, seems both men have got you wrapped around their finger, Y/n.” He said taking Jisung’s face in his hand. “The question is,” He said turned to me and reaching behind him. “Which one matters more to you?” Jae pulled out another gun and aimed it at Chan. Dowoon pulled his out as well and pressed it against Ji’s temple. 

In the corner of my eye, I saw Chan’s hand move behind him and reach into the lampshade. When his hand reappeared he was grasping a gun. I held onto his arm and shook my head ‘no’. Chan watched as I stepped between him and the barrel of the gun. 

Jae scoffed. “You’ve got her brainwashed pretty well, don’t you?” I scowled and stood still staring down the barrel of the gun. I knew he wouldn’t fire if I was standing between him and his target. “You probably tried to take advantage of her. Luckily she’s not dumb enough to fall for that sort of f***ing scam.” 

I heard Chan scoff behind me and I shot him a look. He ignored it, however, stepping forward. “Really?” He asked with a smile, listing his head. “From what I remember...she came on to me.” I could see Jae getting angrier and angrier. “Man, you should have been here the past few days. Things were pretty crazy,” Chan said with a smirk.

“D**MMMMMM BRO! THAT’S COLD!” Jisung laughed. Another punch from Jae silenced him.

“You’ve got a right to be jealous,” Chan said, grasping my hand. That was the last straw. Jae launched at Chan, taking him to the flower. Dowoon, thoroughly confused as to what was going on, dropped Changbin and Jisung. Bin ran over near me, wanting to be as far away from Dowoon as possible. Jisung on the other hand stayed over there, enthralled by the fight.

“YES. STEAL HIS GIRL CHAN! SHOW HIM WHO’S BOSS!”

“Jisung, dude, she wasn’t his in the first place,” Bin said narrowing his eyes at our friend. Jisung looked from me and then back to the fight.

“.......KICK HIS ASS, HYUNG!” 

Both boys rolled around on the floor throwing punches and wrestling for dominance. “Stop it!” I screamed pulling on Jae’s shirt. “Stop!” They kept on fighting, not hearing me over Jisung’s trash talk to Jae and his cheers fro Chan. “That’s it.” 

My eyes scanned the room for something relatively heavy. I raced over to the end table and grabbed the purple object before slamming it against the back of Jae’s head. “ENOUGH!” I screamed. All the boys stopped what they were doing and stared at me, eyes wide with fear.

“Chan you were right....what is with your girlfriend and candles...” Jisung whispered to his friend who lay at his feet. Chan looked up and then let his head drop to the floor. I looked to see a Black Cherry Merlot candle in my hand, the lavender tinted glass cracked from the impact of Jae’s cranium. 

Jae rolled off of Chan and held the back of his head. “Enough. Stop this madness. I have had it up to here with you all.” Dowoon flinched at my yelling and I almost felt bad. Jisung helped Chan up from the floor and I dragged Jae by his ear to the kitchen. 

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow...” He whined all the way.

“Shut up and listen okay?” Jae nodded and silently watched me grab a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. “I’m not going back with you,” His eyes saddened and he opened his mouth to say something but I stopped him. “I left on purpose. I hated it there. I wasn’t living my own life. I felt like I was locked up in a prison.” 

Jae nodded and pressed the vegetable bag to the back of his head. “So, you really love him?” He looked broken. I still loved Jae, very much. But, not in the way that I used to. His head fell when I nodded. “Your dad is going to kill me, you do know that right?” There was a tiny laugh in his voice, but the words were more true than I would have liked to believe.

“Give me your phone.” 

He passed me his phone and I scrolled through the contacts until I found my father. I waited, arms crossed for him to pick up. “Jae! Have you found my baby girl?” My father’s voice exclaimed through the phone.

“Hi, daddy!” I said, looking around the mess of my new house. Changbin was helping Chan and Jisung was having a sort of staring contest with Dowoon. He flinched away when Dowoon uncrossed his arms. I tried not to laugh.

“Y/n! My darling! Please tell me you are coming home.”

“Daddy, I love you,” I started. He went quiet hearing those words. 

“You aren’t coming home are you?” I shook my head before telling him what he didn’t want to hear. I told him all about my deal with Chan and how he kept me safe until he got me to Jeju. I told him about how I never expected to fall in love with someone like him, but it happened. 

“I’m happy, Dad.” I heard a slow sigh on the other end of the call. I could just picture my father rubbing his temples in his study. 

“If you are happy and you are safe... then I trust you.” I smiled hearing those words. I wanted to jump and scream and sing all around the house. I wanted to run into the ocean and bask in the sunlight. “Please promise me, that you will come visit us.” 

I agreed and told him I loved him before hanging up the phone and giving it back to Jae. “Would you and Dowoon like to stay for lunch? Chan and I were going to grill some shrimp and other stuff.” Jae seemed shocked by the offer. 

“That would be nice.” I smiled and patted his shoulder. 

“The bathroom is just down the hall, but I’m sure Jisung would also like to clean up his face...so I would run.” He gave me a confused look. “He is a strong supporter of ‘dibs’. So, I would run before he calls it.” Jae nodded and turned to leave. 

My hand on his wrist stopped him. “Jae, I’m really sorry. About us. About everything.” He gave me a tight-lipped smile and placed a hand on my shoulder. 

“It’s okay. As long as you're happy with...Chan...then I am happy for you.” 

I smiled and reached up to give him a hug. “Now go before Jisung calls dibs.” He smiled and walked down the hall, breaking into a sprint when he saw Jisung was doing the same. 

♛

Chan and I watched from the sunroom as Jisung and Changbin pushed each other around on the beach. Jae and Dowoon had left after lunch. Now the sun was setting and Chan was grilling up some more food while I sat and talked to him. I laughed watching Changbin throttle Jisung into the ocean.

“How into this are you?” Chan asked flipping some vegetables over on the grill. I gave him a lopsided grin and stood from the daybed. I wrapped my arms around his waist feeling the muscles beneath his tank top.

“Into what? This? Us?” He nodded. I pretended to think about it, making him smile. I let my lips trail down his shoulder. “Very.”

“You’re saying that you want to be my partner in crime?” I rose a brow and he gave me a nervous laugh. “Okay, semi-legal partner in crime.” I laughed and kissed his shoulder again. 

“Let’s start with ‘girlfriend’ before I break the law with you.” He smiled and closed the grill. 

A scream called our attention back to the beach. I was relieved to just see Jisung running away from Changbin. Unfortunately, Jisung wasn’t fast enough and Changbin had his hands around his shoulders, shoving Ji down under the waves.

“I’m friends with literal children.”

 “Yes, yes you are.” He leaned down and pressed a heated kiss onto my lips. I was seriously falling in love with this man. “What do you want to do now, handsome?” I smirked seeing him roll his eyes, but a rosy blush tinted his ears. 

“I don’t know,” He shrugged.

“Something good? Something bad?” I played with the ends of his hair before kissing the corner of his lips. “Bit of both? Whatever you want, pretty boy.” Chan sighed and wrapped his arms around my waist. His eyes turned to the sunset, twinkling in the light. 

“Bit of both then.” He said with a smirk, leaning in for another kiss.

♛

Requests are open my lovelies! Just send an ask!

Masterlist

[abused-sides]

Could you write maybe a short angst/fluff thing about them discovering each others triggers and talking about them and how to avoid them? (My family and the people around me dont really respect mine so this is kinda just a request for me to project onto 😅 you absolutely dont have to tho)

fuck your family we’re your family now 

Trigger warning: This au follows the sides as abuse survivors. 

Other tws for: Yelling, arguments, passive aggression, non-censored homophobic slur used to talk about oneself, sl*t used in a joking and literally not at all degrading/mean manner also non-censored, drama violence (like reading a script), flashback/panic attack, ableism off screen, throw up mention, allergies mention, glass breaking, lmk if i missed anything! <3 

enjoy the hurt/comfort lol it took me like an hour and a half xD 

Edit: love when it just doesn’t fucking add the read more :) sorry about that guys

Virgil: 

-While Virgil was helping Patton fix dinner, Roman and Logan started an argument at the table. Logan was upset that Roman hadn’t finished his chore list for the week, but Roman insisted that he would finish it and he just needed some extra time to work on commissions. 

-Logan: We all have jobs, Roman, we still manage to get our chores done! This place is a mess half of the time and that’s largely due to you neglecting the list. 

-Roman: Why are you acting like some weekly chore list is worth more than our jobs? Isn’t that why we moved in together, to pursue our passions?

-Logan: How are we meant to do that when we’re living in a mess? 

-Roman: You’re completely overreacting. 

-Logan: Fine. You’re right. I’ll just do everything. Sorry to be a bother. 

-Virgil had slipped away from his job chopping vegetables to glance at the missing items on Roman’s chore list. The first one read sweep and mop the floors. He silently took the broom from its spot between the fridge and the counter, and worked on piling up the mess on the floor. 

-Logan was about to storm out of the room, when he noticed Virgil. 

-Logan: Are you okay? 

-Virgil: Hm? I’m fine. 

-Logan: You’re shaking. 

-Patton: Of course he’s shaking. Would it kill you two to be nicer to each other? 

-Realization dawned on Logan’s face. He bit his lip as he thought, and then turned to Roman. 

-Logan: I don’t like it when you neglect your chore list. I understand you’re busy, but it makes life harder for all of us. 

-Virgil stopped sweeping, looking at Logan in confusion. 

-Roman was just as confused. 

-Roman: I... Yeah, I got that, weirdo. 

-Logan: I want to make sure there’s no confusion. Do you have anything you want to say to me? 

-Roman’s eyes flicked between Virgil- Shaking, gripping the broom, staring at them with wide eyes -and nodded slowly. 

-Roman: Some weeks I can’t complete the entire chore list. Finishing my commissions are more important. The kitchen can be cleaned later. 

-Patton: And I can help! I don’t mind chipping in on chores. 

-Logan: I can live with that. I’m going to my room. 

-After that, there was an unspoken agreement to state things plainly, especially when fighting, and to try and keep the yelling at a minimum. Janus and Remus may have appreciated it even more than Virgil did. 

Patton: 

-Janus and Remus were visiting for a movie night, and they were still setting up. Patton fussed over the organization of the snack table, Roman over who sat where. 

-Remus: I’ve got my seat! 

-He flopped into Janus’ lap, who grunted. 

-Janus: Jesus Christ, babe. 

-Logan: You two are so... 

-Remus: What? Sexy? 

-Logan: No... Not the word I’m looking for. 

-Remus: A cute couple of boys? 

-Logan fought not to laugh. 

-Logan: No... Not that, either. 

-Remus: Just an attractive pair of young faggots? 

-While Logan, Roman, and Janus burst out laughing, Patton choked. He covered his mouth and tried to recover, but the others laughing quickly died down. 

-Virgil: *softly* Patton? Are you okay? 

-Patton: I’m fine. 

-He forced a weak smile. 

-Patton: Are we ready for the movie? 

-Remus: You look like you’re going to be sick. Is it something I said? 

-Patton: It’s not a big deal-

-Janus: Bullshit. Tell us. What, Remus calling us faggots? It’s okay to laugh, we know we are. 

-Patton didn’t take the bait, shakily sitting down. Janus’ grin faded. 

-Patton: I just... I don’t like that word too much, I guess. It, um... 

-Virgil: *quietly* Bad memories? 

-Patton nodded quickly. 

-Remus: Jesus! You should have told me! I’m sorry, Pat-A-Cake! I guess Janny and I have just been calling each other that for so long, I forgot it bothers some people. 

-Janus: Yeah, um, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have encouraged it, it wasn’t very-

-Patton: Guys, stop. You don’t have to apologize, okay? I’m okay. 

-Roman opened his arms with a soft smile. Patton sighed happily and crawled into his lap, his back against Roman’s chest. 

-Remus: So what can I say instead? Slu-

-Janus slapped his hand over Remus’ mouth. 

-Janus: Why don’t you just try behaving? 

-Patton: *laughing* No, I’m actually pretty used to that one. Roman can’t see a cute boy without calling himself that. 

-Remus: Perfect. Was that the word you were looking for, Logan? Just a bunch of cute little sluts? 

-Logan slapped his hand to his forehead. 

-Logan: *dryly* That’s exactly the word I was looking for. 

Logan: 

-The morning was a busy one. Logan had three projects due that he’d somehow neglected, Roman had two auditions, Patton had an increase in orders to pass out, and Virgil had an interview for an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlour. 

-Everyone raced around the kitchen-- No time for a family breakfast today. Logan banged at the coffee maker as it went painfully slow, Patton trying to carefully package a box of cupcakes. Roman slid between the two of them to get to the fridge, nearly tripping over Logan’s feet. 

-Roman: Hey, watch out! Tryna get out the door here! 

-Logan stiffened. 

-Logan: Apologies, Roman. 

-Roman looked at him in confusion at the formal tone, but shook it off and grabbed his water bottle so he could race out the door. Soon, the apartment was empty, everyone left to their respective tasks. 

-Logan didn’t come home for a while. 

-Patton left a sticky note on Logan’s door to say his dinner was packed up in the fridge for whenever he wanted it, but couldn’t stop feeling worried. He stayed up until 4am on the couch watching cartoons, eventually passing out. 

-When Logan still wasn’t home in the morning, Roman carried Patton to bed and stormed across the hall. 

-He rapped loudly on the door. It swung open a moment later, revealing the tired, angry face of his brother. 

-Remus: What do you want? 

-Roman: Is Logan with you? 

-Remus: Well, I know where he’s not. 

-Roman: I’m not fucking around. Just tell me-- We’re worried about him!

-Remus arched an eyebrow, a sick grin spreading across his face. 

-Remus: *whispering* Are you now? 

-Roman: What’s going on? Is he okay? 

-Remus: *voice still hushed* You would think out of all of us, you and I would know better. You and I would know exactly what to say to make someone feel worthless. The difference is, it’s usually me who says it, and you who avoids it. 

-Roman: I don’t get it. What did I say? Did I hurt him? 

-Remus: He feels like a waste of space in his own home! 

-Roman pushed past Remus into the apartment, finding Logan asleep, Janus curled around him protectively. 

-Roman: Logan! 

-Logan and Janus both startled awake. Janus glared and hissed. 

-Roman: My God, why didn’t you tell anyone you weren’t coming home? We were so worried! Patton stayed up all night waiting for you! Why was your phone off?! 

-Logan frowned in confusion and sat up, self-consciously scooting away from Janus and brushing his arm away. He found his glasses and put them on. 

-Logan: What? I just figured, the apartment seemed cramped lately, people were getting cranky. Janus and Remus offered to let me stay before in the past, so I thought I might give you all some space. 

-Roman shook his head wildly. 

-Roman: Why would you think that? You scared us! Dinner’s still waiting for you in the fridge, and- and you could have at least called us to let us know! 

-Logan fought not to shrink in on himself. He was silent for a while, before he said, quietly, confused, “I thought this was what you wanted.” 

-Roman: No. Where did you-

-Roman paused. 

-He felt so stupid. 

-Roman: No- God, Logan, I’m so... I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry I ran into you, and then... 

-Janus and Remus looked at Logan, waiting his response before reacting. 

-Logan: It’s okay, Roman. I guess I just got confused. Has Patton started on breakfast yet?

-Roman: No, he’s asleep. 

-Logan: I’ll make breakfast. I’ll be there in five minutes.

-Remus gripped Roman’s shoulder. 

-Remus: I’ll show you out. 

Roman: 

-Roman and Remus were in the main four’s living room, scripts in each hand. Roman had asked Remus’ help in reading lines for a scene, and they had both gotten way too into it. 

-Patton: Be careful with my throw pills! My sister stitched those! 

-Remus cackled maniaclly from his position on the couch, a plastic sword held at Roman’s throat. 

-Remus: Now what did I tell you?! 

-Roman, on his knees on the carpet, faked a pained groan. 

-Roman: It’s not true. 

-Remus: Still thinking that, huh? What do I have to do to get it through your head? Beat it out of you?! 

-Remus lurched forward with his fake sword. 

-Roman’s heart stopped, the blood drained from his face, and he threw himself away from Remus’ advance. He fell back, nearly knocking his head against the coffee table they moved, crossing his arms in front of his face. 

-Remus: Roman? *nervous laughter* Come on, I know I’m not that good an actor. Are you... Okay? 

-Roman shakily lowered his arms, staring at Remus with wide, paranoid eyes. He gasped for breath. 

-Patton jumped up from the kitchen table and raced into the living room. Remus caught Patton by the waist as Roman flinched and covered his face again. 

-Patton’s eyes welled up. 

-Patton: Roman? Roman, what’s wrong? 

-Remus: *mumbling* Go sit on the couch, I’ll wave you over. 

-Patton didn’t want to, but he listened. Remus sat on the ground, plenty of space between him and his brother. 

-Remus: Ro? I need you to look around, tell me five things you can see. 

-Roman: Stained- Stained glass. 

-Remus: There’s no stained glass here. Look around, harder. What do you see?

-Roman: Your stupid mustache. 

-Remus: *laughing* Yeah, that’s good. What else? 

-Roman: Um... Um- The- The carpet. 

-Remus: What colour is the carpet? 

-Roman: Green- No. No, it’s beige. 

-Roman ran his fingers along the beige carpet, trying to control his breathing. 

-Remus: That’s good. Three more. 

-Roman: I see Patton. Um, his glasses. There’s flour on his hands. Does that count? 

-Remus: Sounds like five to me. Four things you can touch? 

-Roman: Carpet. Um, my shirt. The table. Y-You? 

-Remus scooted forward slowly and opened his arms for Roman to curl into. Remus held him tight, his chin rested on Roman’s shoulder. 

-Remus: Tell me three things you can hear. 

-Roman: Your heartbeat. Patton crying- Patton, please, love, I’m okay. 

-Patton: I- I know. I’m sorry. I just- I know. 

-Roman: Patton’s voice. 

-Remus: Two things you can smell. 

-Roman: That awful deodorant you use. And Janus, for some reason. 

-Remus: One thing you can taste? 

-Roman: Salt. 

-Remus: You back in the present now? 

-Roman buried his face in Remus’ chest. Remus held him tightly and waved Patton over. Patton staggered to his feet and Remus gently transferred Roman to curl in Patton’s lap, who cooed in his ear and kissed over the side of his face. Remus quietly slipped out of the apartment. 

Remus: 

-Janus: Remus? What’s wrong? 

-Remus didn’t answer, slamming the door shut and headed straight for the bathroom. The water turned on a moment later. 

-Janus looked through Remus’ drawer for his meds and counted them carefully. He’d taken his dosages. He settled against the headboard and waited for Remus to finish showering. 

-About an hour later, Janus was startled awake to a wet pressure on his chest. 

-Janus: *mumbling* Ew. You couldn’t have dried off? Got dressed? 

-Remus looked up at him with wide, teary eyes. Janus raked his fingers through Remus’ hair and kissed his forehead. 

-Remus: It doesn’t matter. 

-Janus: It does. Was it that bitch again? 

-Remus: She is a bitch. 

-Janus: Exactly. What’d she say this time? 

-Remus settled back against Janus’ chest. 

-Remus: *mumbling* It doesn’t matter. She’s right. 

-Janus: I doubt she’s ever been right about anything in her life, especially my Remus. So what did she say? I need to prove her wrong. Proving people wrong is kind of my thing. 

-Remus let out a breathy laugh. 

-Remus: I got upset again. A family told her about their child’s allergy, and she didn’t tell me. I made the dish normally and the girl threw up and had to go home. I started yelling, because I mean I was freaking out, what if I’d killed her? If it was a more severe allergy, she- she couldn’t have been older than seven, it could have killed her just being on the table, and- and- 

-Janus: Hey, baby, take a second to breathe. Just breathe with me for a second, okay? 

-Janus took in a deep breath, his chest raising and lowering Remus gently as he followed the pattern. 

-Remus: She told me to stop worrying about it, that I was delusional. She asked if I remembered my meds. She said I was overreacting. 

-Janus’ hold on Remus tightened as hatred boiled in his stomach. 

-Janus: I’m going to get that bitch fired. 

-Remus: Janus, no, I probably-

-Janus: You did not overreact. She didn’t tell you, and not only could that have killed the girl, it could have ruined your life. We can’t afford a good lawyer, they would pin it on you and shove it under the rug. And you’re not fucking delusional. 

-Remus: I do... Have... Delusions...?

-Janus: That doesn’t have anything to do with this! 

-Remus laughed weakly. 

-Janus: Yeah, you have delusions that the girl on the fifth floor runs a meth lab, and that someone lives in the basement, but that- That was not a delusion. She should be put in jail!

-Remus raised his head and kissed Janus softly. He nuzzled into his neck, and Janus hugged him tight. 

-Janus: I checked your meds. You’re completely caught up. 

-Remus: I know. 

-Janus: And you’re not crazy. 

-Remus: I know. 

-Janus: And I love you. 

-Remus: I know. I love you, too. 

Janus: 

-Janus had snuck into the other apartment to see if Patton had any leftovers from his last orders. The others were asleep, but he knew they wouldn’t care. Patton left notes on the things no one could touch. 

-He found a small plate of assorted cookies with no warning, and settled at the table to eat a few. 

-On his way to put them back, someone on the floor above them screamed a string of curses, and a door slammed. Janus flinched, his shaky hands loosing hold of the plate. His heart dropped as it shattered along the tile. 

-He couldn’t breathe. 

-Clean it up and leave, go, now! 

-Hurry up! Before someone finds you! 

-Don’t worry about clean up, just go! You weren’t here! 

-Logan: Janus? 

-Janus’ head snapped up. He spoke before thinking about the words coming out. 

-Janus: I just got here. I don’t know what happened, I was about to clean it up. It wasn’t me. 

-Logan raised an eyebrow, eyes sleepy. 

-Logan: *flatly* Really? 

-That was the worst lie you’ve ever told in your life. 

-His stomach coiled in embarrassment. He forced up a smile. 

-Janus: I know what it looks like. But I assure you, it wasn’t me. 

-He reached for the broom, but Logan carefully stepped over the glass and grabbed Janus’ wrist. 

-Logan: Janus-

-Janus: *gasping* I’m sorry! It wasn’t me! 

-Logan: Janus. I’m not angry! What’s the matter? 

-Janus hesitantly met Logan’s eyes. Logan’s soft, worried eyes. 

-Logan: You know I would never hurt you. 

-Janus: Of course. 

-Logan: I’ll clean this up. Do you... Want to stay over? 

-Janus’ heart stuttered. 

-Janus: If you want me to, I suppose I could stomach it. 

-Logan smiled a little. 

-Logan: You suppose? 

-Janus: I suppose. 

-Logan: I’ll meet you in there. 

-Janus’ heartrate had slowly gone back to normal as he laid in Logan’s bed. A few minutes later, Logan slipped in behind him, hesitantly resting a hand on Janus’ hip. 

-Janus rolled over and pulled Logan into his arms. Logan sighed in content, nuzzling into his chest. 

-Janus: I didn’t break the plate. 

-Logan: It doesn’t matter who broke the plate. 

[itwillbeall-dwight]

hi king,,, i saw u take drabble requests and i humbly ask for some fluff ft. the grandpas (overconti) if that's something u feel like doing. there's not enough ace fluff out there ;w;

me staring at this ask since last night like surprised pikachu.. tumblr user dweetwise give me ur autograph-

you are absolutely right, and it’s a crime that I haven’t made any content yet. this was more hurt/comfort than fluff, but there’s some cute in there, just for you <3 i rlly hope u enjoy this, it was a lot of fun to write!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

~

lovesick - ace visconti/bill overbeck; canon typical violence; tiny emeto tw; 2908 words

Preview: The two of them walked out of the basement side by side, Ace taking the lead to make sure the coast was clear before they left, taking the exit closest to them through the hole in the wall, heading towards a corner where a generator remained half-power, mechanisms slowly chugging from the inside. The soldier nodded to him, quickly taking over the lead and taking the long side over and leaving Ace to take one of the shorter sides, with the wires exposed. "Hey, Ace?" “Hm?” Ace looked up at the sound of his own name, odd coming from Bill, even now. “...Thanks.” “What for?” “Wh- what do you think?” “Oh, I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.” Bill scowled, though only momentarily, the shit-eating grin on the gambler’s face was enough to make him crack into a brief chuckle, even if it did make him a little (read: a lot) more punchable, before resuming work on the generator.

Ace was not the overtly romantic type.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had the charisma to back him up, a backlog of dirty euphemisms and sultry compliments for him to cruise off of when spoken in a low whisper at the poker table, but that was only enough to get him one night of fun, maybe two if he pushed his luck (which he did, quite often). He was plastic flowers and Las Vegas weddings - the fake kind of love that you could easily replace once it got broken. And for a while, he was fine with that. At the craps table, you couldn’t count on a forever, so going from lover to lover was a fate he’d more than settled with. Hell, even if his engagement only lasted a few months (the man had some sense, at least - the last Ace heard he’d gotten hitched with another man much richer and happier up in Illinois), it made for one hell of a lie to cover his bluff for a losing hand.

Romance hadn’t been something he’d thought about a lot, in the fog. There were more important things to think about, weren’t there - whether it was those cocky kids from the Legion wanting to go for a swipe or the bony form of the Hag slashing at his heels, his main focus was on escaping first, and testing his luck second. That didn’t change, for a while. Or at least, didn’t change enough for him to notice, until, like an unstable cliffside, everything caved in and he realised just how much shit he was in. It was a gradual process, not like how he’d rush things from the casino floor to the bedroom day in and day out for years at a time, knowing that it was likely to be his only chance before they moved onto someone new and better.

Ace didn’t know why it was him. Bill was a hardass, a stickler for the rules, a self-sacrificing hardass who could just say was way too high up on his horse and leave it at that. And normally, he would. But this time… he didn’t. He watched the old soldier with intrigue, with the way he commanded the room despite them being in the forest, his biting wit and genuine strategy enough to straighten the backs of even Nea and David, and that was a task worse than freezing hell over. He would listen to the words he used, insults peppered in like salt to a cheap takeaway meal, half drunk and lost in the belly of the Californian night, how his brow furrowed and how his eyes flickered with intent between survivors, and how his lips quirked and moved as he talked, or didn’t talk. All these little details finally came to a head when he’d began noticing how his words would bounce off of him like glue to rubber, unfazed mostly - though one time, he got a laugh out of him, while making a joke about David’s recklessness as the two offered their assistance in patching him up behind a rock (“takes an idiot to know one, Visconti”, he’d said). And that small chuckle was all it took for Ace to realise he was in deep, deep shit.

While luck had always been on his side, courage had not. Ace had let his feelings sit for a long time, trial after trial, not sure whether to be grateful that he was finally yearning for attachment or cursing the heavens that it had to happen here, of all places, enough to the point where avoiding Bill had become as natural as breathing air. Wasn’t anywhere to run eventually, though, as a terrible trial in the Autohaven Wreckers, where generators remained powered down and Micheal patrolled in his usual, methodical way, had left the two of them the only ones left alive. Hiding behind a wall, they had been silent for a while, before the old soldier had pressed him about his odd behaviour, calling him out to the very centre of it. And for the first time in a long time, Ace didn’t have a retort - there was no shitty movie quote, no stupid joke he could bounce off of - leaving him stumbling and hanging slack-jawed as his face grew hot and he rubbed the back of his neck, enough to make Bill growl and start to stand to his feet, ready to take the fall as he’d done so many times. But as if on instinct, Ace had grabbed his wrist and pulled himself to his feet, asking him to take a chance, just this once. Bill had chastised him as he normally did, pulling his arm away as he did so. And Ace had swallowed hard and looked him head-on, letting his eyes fall on every feature of his face, before grabbing the old fool by the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for a long-overdue kiss that seemed to last too long but not long enough, hoping that that was enough of a message to say that he’d trade his life for Bill’s in a heartbeat. He did, evidently, meeting his end at the hand of a knife in his lungs, but behind tinted glasses where he quickly lost vision, he’d seen Bill running for the hatch, glaring daggers at him as Ace could only smile, and die. Words were said at the campfire when he got back, but the message had been sent, loud and clear, earning him another kiss back when the two were, pinned against a tree with the glow of the campfire on his back, an answer to the silent question that he had posed for if it was really okay to do this. And it was. 

It had been a good while since that moment, though Ace played it in his head over and over as if it was some crazy dream that he was getting to live in. Things hadn’t really changed between them - he was still just as stupid, if not more so, trying to impress the man who made the mistake of liking him back, and Bill was still as much of a hardass - but there were moments now that made every injury, every lost chase and terrible mistake, and every death, so much more worth it. The soldier shared with him small smiles, laughs and jokes and tales of old friends, his doubts and his anguish, but most of all, showed him a side of himself that wasn’t as harsh, a side of himself that was vulnerable, and kind - a bleeding heart, as it were, and that was the side where their hands interlocked walking back from the campfire, where they’d joke and slow dance and laugh like normal lovers did, out on the edge of the campfire. They had each other’s back, and out here, that’s what they needed most. 

Another trial was underway now, as one always was, and the forest of the Macmillan Estate was cold as it always had been, especially around the old ironworks. The atmosphere in the old factory giving off ice cold vibes of unhappiness and solitude. Ace felt a shiver run its icy fingers up his spine from under his shirt, pulling his hands away from the generator for a moment as his head twitched a little from the moment, recovering quickly with a quiet sigh before he got back to work. The trial had been rather relaxed, as of now; one generator was already powered (he’d watched Dwight and Nea work on that together, which was like seeing snow in July, as far as he was concerned) and he’d only heard a few yells of pain after that as he was searching around the factory through chests for a key (no luck this time) before hoping down again. Over the sound of the mechanisms powering up like a beating heart, the fountain behind him flowed, the sound of pure water almost calming, if not for the sign that the Plague was roaming around.

Two wires he was holding sparked together, and that was enough to get the generator to flicker on. Perfect. Ace stood to his feet and took off his hat for a moment, scratching the top of his head before he put it back on again, as if it would help him figure out his next move. As if just going for a stroll (the poor priestess was making this trial seem like a cakewalk, after all), he slid his hands into his pockets, beginning to head out of the factory-

Running towards him made him step back inside, pinning his back against the wall near the door, his heart lurching into his mouth. From out of the corner of the doorway, he saw Bill sprinting past, the tall form of the Plague not too far behind. Ace smiled despite himself, though that soon faded as he heard the gagging coming from the woman, before she swallowed down her own vomit as the soldier turned a corner, and then subsequently hit her with a palette as she tried to follow after him. 

With the threat gone, though that wasn’t as reassuring as it ought to have been, knowing it wasn’t far behind the man he loved - Bill was capable enough, though, so there wasn’t much to worry about, was there? Right? - Ace moved away from the wall and sighed. Better to head in the opposite direction of the scary lady with the sacrificial censor and the terrible disease. But as he started to make his way towards the hole in the wall under the stairs, his eyes fell onto another set of stairs that were all too familiar. The whispers of the basement were calling for him. Ace swallowed, fiddling with the collar of his jacket. ...Bill had this, right? And if not, Nea and Dwight would have his back, surely. It was fine for him to dig around for another key, right? He looked around. No one was here to tell him not to, so the only other choice…

He descended the basement stairs carefully, a hand running along the rotting and misshapen planks of the old wooden wall the didn’t fit with the rest of the factory at all, as if it had been stolen and shifted from another building entirely. Those whispers of death were louder now, as he turned a corner and saw it, the chest at the back. Ace rubbed his hands together, hoping to channel some sort of magic to get this thing to open up. The gambler got down on one knee, picking at the lock of the chest while grumbling and talking to himself, praying for a key, or a flashlight to toss to the feisty young Swede if he saw her again. It didn’t take long to open, though nothing was waiting for him inside but a crusty old medkit. Ace stood up again with a frown, cursing Lady Luck for turning her back on him-

Heavy hands hitting the wall of the killer shack startled him, heart in his mouth. The Plague was probably already mad enough with how things had been going, he didn’t need to be spotted hiding out in the basement to make matters worse. Scrambling to his feet, the gambler lept for the locker just behind him, and clambered inside, hoping not to alert the tall, diseased woman that he was an easy target. But instead of sickly breaths and the sound of bare feet on concrete, the stumbling, heavy footsteps down the stairs and strained, pained breathing were enough to get him to poke his head out-

“Oh, shit- Bill!” 

The panicked whisper made the soldier look up, watching as Ace climbed out of the locker, leaving the doors to close on their own as he jogged over. Bill gritted his teeth, knuckles white as he clung to the edge of the wall beside the stairs with one hand, the other clutching his stomach. “Dammit, Visconti, what’re you doin’-”

“Don’t matter. C’mere.”

“No- get off me, dammit.” He tried to swat the gambler away, but lost his balance as he did and slipped from under his feet, yelling quietly as Ace rushed to grab him and help him stand, his hand grabbing hard at the side Bill was holding.

“Ah, shit- sorry, babe. Come on, there’s a medkit over here-”

“Oh, of course you were fuckin’ around in here-”

“You want the help or not?”

Bill paused, about to open his mouth again before catching the look on Ace’s face, an oddly solemn frown that seemed out of place, before sighing in resignation, if only to see the small smirk that overtook the other man as he led him over to the chest, letting him lean against the locker and slide down to sit.

“You’ll thank me later, trust me.”

“Just get it done.”

Ace nodded, taking the medkit out of the chest and opening it up, fishing through what little supplies were in there to try and help, hands shaking ever so slightly. For as long as the two of them had been here, you’d think he’d be used to this by now - but he was as cowardly at heart as always, it seemed.

He wasn’t an expert medic, but in the fog, you had to adapt fast, so Ace had picked up a few things from watching Claudette patch people up (and watch Nea complain about how wrong it was, but even he would doubt her judgement in that department), enough that he thought he was doing a pretty good job as he slowly wrapped the gauze around Bill’s torso, watching at the heavy bruising was slowly covered, and listening for a wince of pain every so often to tell him he was doing it a little too tight. Ace glanced up to him as his glasses fell down his face from looking down, just catching the soft expression he was giving before he grumbled and look away, making the gambler chuckle to himself as he finished tying off the gauze, moving his hand to gently hold his shoulder.

“She get you up there?”

Bill looked back again, an eyebrow raised.

“Vomit Queen up there. You caught anythin’?”

“Oh, hell no. Saw Karlsson instead, went after her ass. Considerin’ the run around she’s been givin’ her, ain’t surprised.” He paused, trying to push himself up now. “I gotta help her-”

“Aht, aht. Down, boy.” Ace put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down to sit. “C’mon, Bill, she’ll look at you funny and you’ll go down if you go up there again, ‘Sides, Nea ain’t a damsel. A few more minutes, yeah?”

“And Dwight?”

“He’s no idiot either. He’s our leader for a reason.”

He stared, before looking away again.

“We’ve talked about this, Bill. I know you gotta stick your neck out for everyone else, but you can only go so far.”

He didn’t say anything else, but from the way he tapped his fingers against the concrete floor, he wasn’t happy about it.

“There… no worries, you old coot, I got you.” Ace laughed as he got a punch to the chest, moving to hold a hand where the impact had been made, expression going soft as Bill laughed too, albeit it was quieter. He stood to his feet and wiped the dust and blood off of his knees where he’d been kneeling before offering the soldier a hand, which he took, helping him stand to his feet with only minor wobbling. "You good?"

"Yeah... yeah. Just... give me a second."

"Take all the time you need."

The soldier kept his grip tight in Ace's hand, sighing to himself before he went to move his hand away.

Though Ace kept his grip, if only to bring the hand up to his lips and gently kissed Bill’s knuckles, skin old and weathered on his lips, before pulling away and running his thumb across them. “Now come on. We've got a trial to finish."

The two of them walked out of the basement side by side, Ace taking the lead to make sure the coast was clear before they left, taking the exit closest to them through the hole in the wall, heading towards a corner where a generator remained half-power, mechanisms slowly chugging from the inside. The soldier nodded to him, quickly taking over the lead and taking the long side over and leaving Ace to take one of the shorter sides, with the wires exposed.

"Hey, Ace?"

“Hm?” Ace looked up at the sound of his own name, odd coming from Bill, even now.

“...Thanks.”

“What for?”

“Wh- what do you think?”

“Oh, I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Bill scowled, though only momentarily, the shit-eating grin on the gambler’s face was enough to make him crack into a brief chuckle, even if it did make him a little (read: a lot) more punchable, before resuming work on the generator.

They got out of that game alive, thankfully, Bill saving Dwight from a last-minute hook and the two of them shielding him on their way out. As the two younger survivors rushed on ahead to give their friends the good news, Ace and Bill hung behind, strolling back hand in hand. It wasn’t an ideal world, but it was theirs, and having each other was a hell of a lot better than not.

[agent-cupcake]

hey! if you’re still taking fire emblem requests, can i request claude getting jealous or annoyed because the reader is getting confessed to by a lot of students?

This is from Claude’s perspective, which might have been a bad call because that boy can be quite the mental enigma, BUT I tried my best and really what else can you ask for. Aside from quality, please don’t ask for that. 

-

“Feeling jealous, Claude?” Hilda asked in a sugary tone, her elbows braced in an unladylike fashion on the tabletop and chin dropped lazily into the cup of her palm. Claude lowered the book he hadn’t really been reading, looking over at the girl he’d only been half aware of since her uninvited arrival at his table in the corner of the library. He measured her words for a moment, trying to decide if she was borrowing from his repertoire by trying to make her own entertainment out of his lackluster conversational skills, or if she as leading into something with the taunting question. Either way, he supposed it was better than his current fruitless endeavors.

Across the room, the noble doing his very best to charm you laughed. Claude resisted the urge to allow the sound to distract him. He did notice, through no fault of his own other than a set of good ears, that you did not laugh in return.

“How do you figure?” Claude asked Hilda, deciding to humor her with an easy smirk. Better than allowing her baseless question to stand. She sighed and rolled her eyes, as if the accusation was so self evident that explaining it was a chore, but her glee that that he’d taken the bait was evident.

“Your little dancer has been stolen away from you.” Her gaze flicked towards the table where you sat with the newest suitor in the lineup that had begun shortly after your breathtaking, and winning, performance for the White Heron Cup. Hilda’s expression shifted away from amusement. “Or should I say, stolen away from us. I blame the professor, he should have known that a girl like her would get all dizzy and confused with the spotlight on her like this. Me on the other hand…”

“Now who’s jealous?” Claude teased lightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Jealous?” Hilda asked incredulously with a grand show of affront, her delicate eyebrows furrowing. “No, I’m worried,” she said, stressing the word heavily. “I mean, look at her!”

Claude’s gaze followed Hilda’s gesture towards your table, not that he needed the aid for his eyes drawn to the scene. It was much the same as it had been for the last quarter hour. Study material spread out on the table around you as you attempted to help one of the more devious boys who had maneuvered past your defenses with a backhanded tactic of asking for a tutor rather than a date. The real question was if you were truly too naive to see his true motives, or if your awkward handling of his flirtations and strict adherence to the charade of studying were an attempt at deflection. Either way, the overwhelming awkwardness made for an exceptionally difficult watch.

Of course, Claude found it nearly impossible to look away. In part, he could chalk it up to the incredibly inconvenient place for this little tryst. Libraries were sacred, meant to be peaceful environments. But, watching you squirm and flush ignited another, more private kind of annoyance; he had tried so hard to figure out a way to get under your skin, it was almost cheap how easy the various hopefuls managed it when he had been consistently unsuccessful. Not that he enjoyed your distress. Well, not when he wasn’t the one who had figured out how to instigate it.

“Not everybody can handle the spotlight,” Hilda said, dragging Claude from his thoughts. “Poor thing. I wouldn’t have minded working a little harder if it meant I could shelter her from that terrible burden.”

“How noble of you,” Claude responded dryly.

“It is, isn’t it,” Hilda agreed with a hint of surprise at her own behavior, either unaware of or ignoring his sarcasm. Claude was inclined to think the latter. “Anyway, I was thinking that since we agree that she doesn’t seem very happy about things and you’re already over here skulking about it anyway-”

“Woah, I am not skulking-”

Hilda bullied past Claude’s somewhat indignant denial, continuing without pause, “You could go over there and scare him off.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Claude asked, deciding that trying to argue the finer details wasn’t worth it.

“Oh, you know,” Hilda said, waving her hand in a way that managed to be both flippant and graceful. “I’m sure if you go over there, he’ll remember something very important that he needs to leave for. My brother used to do that all the time to scare off boys.”

“Uh huh… And once her schedule’s cleared, maybe she’ll remember that you agreed to help you with… Kitchen duty, was it?” Claude asked.

Hilda stiffened, doing a good job of feigning indignation and confirming his suspicions. It had been a long shot to assume Hilda would do something solely out of the goodness of her heart, he supposed. “That is so not the point! I’m really worried about her!” She paused, a crease appearing in the center between her eyebrows. “She’s a little bit too nice, I’m really afraid that those boys will take advantage of her.”

“But it’s okay if you do?”

“I would never!” Hilda exclaimed, mimicking shock at the very idea. “I actually care about her. If she wants to help me, it’s only because she cares about me too.”

There was a flaw in that logic that Claude didn’t feel like pointing out, mainly because Hilda still had a point. For all of your skills and abilities, you stank of awkward inexperience. It could be endearing in its own way, but it called into question your ability to avoid danger even if you were fully capable of sensing it. People like Hilda and him could wear their masks no matter the circumstance, but you weren’t accustomed enough to attention to keep it up in unfamiliar circumstances. Plus, the nobleman had scooted at least a foot and a half closer to you in the time since he’d sat down, and Claude didn’t like the possessive way he casually touched you.

“Why don’t you go over there?” Claude finally asked, more out of a sense of obligatory obstinance than a belief he could convince Hilda otherwise. “I’m sure you’re far more familiar with managing a complicated love life than I am.”

“No way. Trust me, the only way to get a guy like that to back down is if another man scares him off,” Hilda explained matter-of-factly. Claude wasn’t sure how he felt about that logic, unable to decide if Hilda truly believed it, or if she was just trying to avoid the labor of conflict.

“All right, all right, I get it,” Claude relented. “I suppose I’ll see what I can do, although if it backfires and she gets upset I’m blaming it on you.”

“Oh come on, you’re so charming and charismatic, there’s no way she’ll be mad at you! And once you rescue her, you’ll be her hero.” Hilda stood up and stretched, as if talking him into doing as she wanted had been an especially taxing task. “Anyway, I know you’ll do great, so I’ll get going now. Remember to remind her of her promise. Four thirty in the kitchen.” She smiled, and with a dainty wave, Hilda departed from the library, twintails swinging behind her in a rosy trail.

Claude sighed, knowing he’d been played. Then again, he didn’t exactly relish to trying to get through another heavily edited and censored version of a historical look at Heroes Relics while listening to your date laugh and coo over you, it was hard enough to read without. If Seteth stocked the library with books any drier, Claude was sure there’d be a ban on open flame anywhere on the second floor out of fear for the libraries stock of excellent kindling.

He dropped the book and stood, stretched, then made his way over to your table, slow and easy.

“-the ball,” the boy was saying quietly to you, having moved closer than ever. “I’d be honored to have such a fluid and graceful creature on my arm such as you, perhaps you could even teach me-”

“This seat taken?” Claude asked with a smile, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to you regardless of the answer.

You broke from your oh-so diligent student to look at Claude with wide eyes. Not the slightly panicked gaze you gave the various boys when they confessed or flirted with you, but the searching one he knew all too well. Surprised, vaguely defensive, and a touch piercing. He savored it now, especially in contrast to the icy glare the man looking past your shoulder was leveling at him.

“I’m sorry, but this is a private session,” the boy said, pompous and lacking any of the slimy charm he’d used to speak to you with.

“I was hoping I could join in, actually. I’ve been having problems with-” Claude glanced down at the papers and books strewn across the table. “-the real life applications of chemistry.” 

Just saying that made him smirk. This stuff was basic when compared the things he’d taught himself, material more suited to a child. Or a noble who had never had any need to learn such things and wanted an excuse to get closer to a pretty girl.

“Are you?” you asked, obviously not believing him. For a moment, Claude was half sure you’d turn him away just to be difficult, but then you shrugged. “I suppose I don’t mind. Theo and I were going over the properties and uses of plants found in the south.”

“Oh, great! Awfully important stuff, that. No wonder the two of you looked so intense,” Claude said. You stiffened slightly, but Theo’s lips merely formed a thin line.

“I’m afraid I find it difficult to learn properly in group settings,” Theo said rigidly. Despite the fact he his words were pointedly aimed at Claude, there was something distinctly territorial about the way he moved closer to you, his hand on the back of your chair. Hilda had said that he’d run at seeing another man, but Claude saw something else. This Theo didn’t see you as a girl, but as something to possess, and he didn’t want some suspicious outsider to take that away. It was petty enough to make Claude’s stomach turn.

“For me personally, I think it’s easiest to learn with other people,” Claude said, not allowing himself to look affected. “Especially chemistry, you practically need other people to really study this stuff.”

“Is that so?” Theo asked. You frowned at Claude, as if you already knew what he was going to say. He said it anyway.

“Sure,” Claude answered easily, as casual as could be. “I daresay test subjects are important to most of the sciences. Hey, maybe with a bit of experimentation we could come up with something to ease your nerves. You looked pretty nervous before I got here. Makes a guy wonder about what you might have been asking my friend here…”

“It was of little significance to you,” Theo responded stiffly.

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Claude’s voice was smooth. Smug. He could tell his words had an effect, even if Theo was slow to relent.

“Actually, we were discussing the ball,” you said, pulling both boy’s surprise. “I was just about to explain to Theo that all of us deer are all going stag,” you finished, face deadly serious. It took a moment, but Claude saw the slight twitch of your lips at the joke. It was so bad it wrapped back around to clever. He had to stifle a laugh.

“Is that so?” Theo asked. He either hadn’t got the double meaning, or that stick was well and truly that far up his butt. “Well, apologies for the abruptness, but I believe it’s time for me to take my leave now.” He said, attempting and mostly successful in returning to his slimy charm in bidding you farewell, sparing you an awkward hand kiss and all. Theo shot one last glare for Claude, but left. How charming.

Claude let out a laugh as soon as the pompous noble was out of sight. At the bad joke, but also at expense of poor Theo. After a second, you joined in. If Claude felt any smug glee in hearing your laugh, he didn’t dwell on it.

“That was terrible,” Claude eventually said, forcing his voice into a lower volume to avoid more glares from those nearby.

“I thought it was clever,” you said, your shoulders relaxing somewhat. You were more relaxed around him, but in a way you were also more guarded. “Besides, I’m not the terrible one, you are. Threatening to poison the boys I talk to… What are you, my keeper?” you asked. Cutting words, but there was still a layer of levity to them. 

Still, he frowned. “That hurts, truly,” Claude responded, a hand over his heart and brows scrunched in unhappiness. “Besides, I wasn’t threatening him. I wouldn’t dare poison a boy you obviously care for so deeply.”

Now your face twisted in disgust. “I don’t care for him,” you said with just a touch more force than necessary. Then you paused, shrugged. “He said he’d pay me to tutor him, and I didn’t think anything of it…” You sighed, shaking your head with a frown. Your cluelessness was a tad pitiful, but in a cute way. At the same time, Claude disdained it.  

“It’s a terrible burden to be so popular, isn’t it?” he asked, his sarcastic tone unintentionally verging on sardonic, the bitterness surprising even him. You looked up, eyes narrowing and that look of weariness fading away. They weren’t the wide eyes of discomfort and awkwardness, like with the poor Theo, but focused with a sort of fire. Claude didn’t exactly mind it. His comment, stinking of something he dared not called jealousy, obviously got under your skin.

For a moment, it looked as if you were going to admonish him, but that passed as the fire burned out. 

“You’re just jealous,” you accused primly, turning your face away from him in a rather pointed manner to gather up the paper and books strewn across the table top.

Claude disliked hearing that word from you even more than he disliked hearing it from Hilda, finding himself without an immediate retort as he considered if you were joking or not. He wondered if there was a way to argue, to express the definite lack of jealousy in his displeasure while watching you and that noble fop laughing and flirting. Then again, if you were joking, even a playful argument would make him look guilty. Claude didn’t like to gamble with uncertain odds.

Fortunately, you saved him the roll of the dice. “I guess it’s fine anyway, the whole thing was a waste of time. I should thank you,” you said softly. 

The minute tension in Claude’s posture eased. “Actually, you should thank Hilda,” he said, playing his relief off with a practiced casualness. “She said that you looked uncomfortable and in dire need of assistance. I guess she’s familiar with those types of situations.”

“Hilda asked you?” you asked with a slight air of disbelief, looking up from organizing the papers to glance around the library, as if the girl would be lounging around somewhere among the books.

“Apparently,” Claude said, almost regretfully, “You agreed to help with her kitchen duty today.” 

You paused, thinking. “I did didn’t I... I forgot about that... At the forth bell, right?” you asked.

“Afraid so,” Claude responded. 

You winced, shaking your head and returning to organizing all of your papers and books with more urgency. Claude was amazed by the sheer volume. It looked like you were taking on even more extracurricular work than him, most of the books on subjects the professor wasn’t covering in class. He hadn’t noticed that before, but it was strange.

“If it helps any, she did seem sincerely worried. She just has an odd way of showing it,” Claude said in a halfhearted defense. That wasn’t a lie, really. Hilda just had an unique way of showing her concern. By now, however, you probably knew that.

“And what about you?” you asked, peering over at him as he tried to surreptitiously read the spines of all the books you had.

“Huh… Me?” Claude asked, looking away quickly, and somewhat guiltily, to meet your eyes. They were searching and more than a little difficult to read, your mood having shifted entirely without his notice.

“I mean, you’re not one to do things without a reason. So why, truly?”

Truly? What truth did you want, he wondered. What were you really asking with  this sudden shift in tone? If Claude didn’t know any better, which he really didn’t, he’d suppose that you were looking for a very specific answer. If only he knew what that answer was.

“Oh no, not me. Saving you from the clutches of some slobbering nobleman was completely altruistic,” Claude responded without missing a beat, opting for neutrality rather than trying to solve the puzzle of the female mind. Wearing an easy smile, he leaned back in his chair casually. “But I guess I did get some entertainment. And a bad joke, too. Not a bad deal if you ask me.”

It wasn’t a lie, not really, but it wasn’t the ‘truly’ truth you wanted. Not that Claude was entirely sure what you did want. Unfortunately, that was the way those things went. Especially where you were concerned.  

“It wasn’t a bad joke,” you muttered as you looked away, obviously unhappy about more than the comment as you packed up the rest of your things. Claude tried to engage you further, but it was clearly a lost cause. By the time you left, the forth bell chiming happily, he was actually grateful to return to the awful book he’d dropped. At least the words were coherent. Well, most of them. And he had an actual figure to be mad at; in this case being the terrible author who’d written the senseless book or Seteth for thinking it was worth keeping; rather than imagining any given faceless boy who wore you on his arm like some sort of prize. 

Not that he was jealous, because he wasn’t, but because he still found himself unable to understand you. And there was nothing more enticingly annoying than that.

-

1. Hope you enjoyed this. 2. I know I’ve been not posting and stuff, but I have been working on something! I doubt I’ll post it bc it’s OC fic, but rest assured that it is some quality stuff. Super quality. 3. Claude and Hilda are like dysfunctional squad parents and that’s the dynamic I feel that I deserve in my life and that’s all about that. Thanks for reading, I love you all, and remember: Never Underestimate an Outsider.

[winglessnymph]

Moving Day (romantic LAMP)

Warnings: none? Human AU. Virgil worries a bit but everything is okay. Something breaks but no one is hurt. Off screen mentions of Thomas, Deceit as "Dee", Remus, and Emile Picani

~

     “The truck is here L!” Virgil calls from the main entryway.

     “Thank you! Go ahead and start unloading with them. I’ll be out momentarily.” Logan shifts a box to the side.

     Outside, Roman lets Patton use his hand to step out of the passenger side of the moving van. Roman gets Patton to giggle with a line Virgil isn’t close enough to hear.

     “Hello, Pretty in Punk.” Roman flashes that grin Virgil’s way.

     “We saw each other earlier Princey... You’ve been gone for like, 30 minutes.” Virgil falls back on pretending he doesn’t turn into gay jello every time one of his boyfriends flirt with him. Patton giggles and pecks Virgil’s (now blushing) cheek.

     “Here comes Lo! Let’s get the back open!” Patton suggests. The door rolls up and…

     “How much shit did you actually pack Ro?!” Virgil exclaims. Patton hides a smile at Roman’s ‘Offended Princey Noises’ as Virgil dubs them.

     “It was mostly kitchen stuff, the big bed, and thingamabobs left.” Patton explains. “I got the kitchen stuff if you all want to worry about the rest for the moment.” Patton grabs a pair of boxes, both labeled “PAWS OFF” with paw prints drawn in sharpie. Virgil snorts when he notices. Logan playfully narrows his eyes at Patton’s cheeky wink.

     “There are so many Patton Paw boxes! At least let me carry them to the kitchen, mi corazón!” Roman offers.

     Roman then whines at Patton’s determination until Logan asks if Roman and Virgil can move the bed frame and mattress. Roman perks up and starts flexing while Virgil rolls his eyes with a smile.

~time skip~

     “Okay, good, just turn a little to your left Virgil! Yes, great, now Roman take a step back, easy.” Logan hovers a bit trying to coach the duo that’s moving the giant mattress into the master bedroom.

     “We got it L. Can you go make sure the truck is empty and close the back if it is?” Virgil nearly topples himself as he says this.

     “Of course…” Logan eyes them for a second before going to lock up the moving van.

~time skip~

     Roman comes out to the living area. “The bed is done. Virgil wanted to set up the bathroom first so he’s still wrapping that up.”

~time skip~

     “I know Patton is cleaning in the kitchen but did we ever clean this place before moving things in?” Roman frowns.

           “Nah, don’t worry. Thomas and I finished the deep cleaning yesterday.” Roman jumps at Virgil popping up behind his shoulder.

     “That’s so sweet! We’ll have to invite him to dinner as a thank you.” Patton calls from the kitchen.

     “How did you convince Thomas to spend all day cleaning with you?” Roman asks.

    Virgil shrugs, “He owed me.”

     “You two are literally brothers?” Logan squints. Roman and Virgil’s laughter clues Logan in on the joke. “Ah, a sibling thing?”

     “A sibling thing.” Roman confirms while Virgil nods.

     Logan, who grew up an only child, was starting to learn what siblings were like from Virgil and Roman. Virgil has his older brother Dee and younger brother Thomas. Roman has his twin Remus. Patton is an only child technically but grew up with his cousin Emile. Patton always claims Emile as ‘practically a brother.’

~time skip~

     Roman continues to censor his cursing with progressively stranger phrasing while half stuck behind the entertainment center. “For the love of Zeus! Why are you so tiny?!”

     Virgil and Logan look up from organizing their bookcases. “Uh, you good back there Ro?” Virgil asks.

     “I will be after this blasted cord goes in its Disney forsaken place!” Logan and Virgil swap looks before deciding to let Roman be for the moment.

     “Lo, I’m done with the one over here…” Virgil starts tapping his fingers together.

     “Excellent! Would you like to check on the spare bedroom and set up the bed? It doesn’t need to be perfect just enough in case someone needs to ‘crash’, figuratively speaking.” Logan offers.

     Virgil nods and disappears down the hall.

~time skip~

    A crash and a yelp from the kitchen breaks the calm of the house. Logan just manages to duck out of the way as Virgil comes from down the hall and vaults himself over the couch. Roman rushes to follow suit.

     Virgil was commonly underestimated but under the hoodies and hunched posture… At the time of the glass break Virgil was the furthest away in the spare bedroom. Yet he was the quickest to the kitchen. Logan shakes himself from the thought and walks at a more reasonable pace.

     Patton squeaks as Roman lifts him out of the glass shards. Virgil is checking Patton over as Roman shifts to hold him bridal style. Logan enters with a broom.

     “Patton are you unharmed?” Logan asks.

      “I’m fine Lo-Lo, it just startled me.” Patton frowns over at what used to be the glass plate from the microwave. Roman drops a kiss to Patton’s hair and carries him over the couch. Virgil moves to follow but pauses.

     “You want me to clean that up?” Virgil worries his lip.

     “I have it managed. You can go sit with them.” Logan assures.

      “Be careful with all the pieces… I put a first aid kit in the bathroom. Do you want me to get it?”

     “No, thank you. It was a good idea to place it in the bathroom. I’m glad you thought to bring one.” Logan reassures. Virgil, appeased, nods and joins Roman and Patton on the couch.

    Once the mess is cleared and the area double checked Logan walks out to join his boyfriends. Patton is halfway in Roman’s lap with his legs thrown to the side and over Virgil’s. Logan smiles fondly at them.

     “Thanks Lo-Lo.” Patton beams back.

     “You are welcome, my dear. I’ll add finding a new microwave plate to tomorrow’s list.” Logan blinks as a growl comes from the couch. Virgil ducks into Roman’s side in embarrassment.

     “That was his tummy.” Patton giggles.

     “I think it’s a good enough time for a break. What do you think, starlight?” Roman looks to Logan.

     “Yes, we do need to eat something.” Logan agrees.

    “Ooo, what about that wrap place by Emile’s office?” Patton suggests and receives a round of agreement.

     Virgil and Roman head out after noting everyone’s orders and bring the food back.

~time skip~

    Roman gets up and stretches after finishing first. “Where are the trash bags? Did we start one?” He asks.

     Patton looks up, “The big trash can is set up in the kitchen and I think the trash bags themselves ended up somewhere else?”

     “The box of ‘em ended up in the bathroom.” Virgil chimes in.

     “I’ll go use the kitchen one then.” Roman moves to do so.

     Patton’s eyes widen a bit, “I’m not done in there so don’t mess with anything please!”

     “Yes, Chef!” Roman teases.

~time skip~

     Virgil drops down onto the floor by Logan’s legs. Patton sits next to Logan on the couch with Roman quickly claiming Patton’s other side. Everyone is worn out but pleasantly tired. Virgil leans his head into Logan’s knee and lets out a hum when someone runs their fingers through his hair. Patton gives a soft giggle and there’s the smack of a quick kiss. Virgil opens his eyes.

     “Holy shit we did it…” Virgil turns to face his three boyfriends. The three that he finally gets to live with for the first time. No more leaving late Sunday night to go home to his lonely apartment. Virgil’s laugh is a bit breathless with amazement.

     Patton wiggles and starts squealing in joy. Careful of Virgil sitting on the floor, Patton kicks his legs around and pulls everyone in the best he can. Roman lets out a loud happy laugh and holds on tight. Logan smiles and is more than willing to be pulled into the hug turned cuddle pile. Patton tugs Virgil up to the couch and lets out more happy noises.

~time skip~

     Eventually the impromptu cuddle pile becomes uncomfortable due to the limited space offered by the couch. “Perhaps we should retire to the bedroom?” Logan suggests as he untangles himself. Roman gives him a saucy wink which Logan smiles at.

     “Move over Casanova.” Virgil’s teasing comes out muffled by Patton’s shoulder.

     “I think a bit of rest is in order first.” Logan clarifies. His boyfriends agree and slowly move to separate. Little pecks are traded on the way to the bedroom.

     Once everyone is changed, washed up, and ready, they all crawl into bed. It’s only a few minutes in before Virgil is tense and trying his best not to move. The last thing he wants is to ruin everyone’s happy first night with his racing thoughts. Patton notices how stiff Virgil is as he goes to cuddle into his back.

     “Virge?” Patton asks softly.

     “Yeah?” Virgil sighs.

     “You wanna talk?” Patton’s gentle questions get the attention of Logan who nudges Roman behind him. Virgil rolls over and hides his face in Patton’s shoulder while whispering about all the stuff that still needs done.

     Patton croons softly and pulls Virgil closer. Logan reaches over Patton and holds onto one of Virgil’s hands. Logan begins assuring that the remaining tasks can wait for them to rest first. Roman at the other end, behind Logan, can’t reach Virgil without strain. So instead Roman squeezes in tighter and starts humming until he drifts off to sleep.

[mostweakhamlets]

Spain, 1918 (Chapter 1)

This is the fic that is being posted on my Patreon on tier two among other stories. If you would like to access updates first and read ahead, then you can do so for $3 a month! There will be weekly updates on Patreon, but the entire fic will end up here and on my AO3. 

Summary: The second, deadly wave of the Spanish Flu hits Europe in the summer of 1918, and it was not mentioned in the memo Pestilence sent to Above and Below. The world is trying to cope with the Great War and the new pandemic while Heaven and Hell are overcrowded and behind on getting new souls admitted. Aziraphale and Crowley take it upon themselves to try to find the rogue Horseman. 

An establish marriage fic that leans more towards Book!Omens and features Crowley disguised as a nurse and Aziraphale disguised as a priest. 

“The Americans are calling it the Spanish flu now,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley shook his head. He raised his glass to his lips and drank the harsh wine with a sneer. He didn’t know why they had been drinking all night (or, rather why he had been drinking all evening as Aziraphale’s first glass was mostly untouched). The wine wasn’t very good—it was a cheap red from one of the only markets still open when they returned from their journies to Above and Below that evening.

There was anxiety filling the bookshop. While Aziraphale had voiced how pleased he was with the lack of customers, he was visibly unsettled to see so few people on the London streets. The city he had always known to be bustling with energy was growing quieter and quieter in the midst of the panic spreading across the globe.

Crowley had hoped to learn more about the pandemic when he met with Beelzebub. He hoped to bring back news to Aziraphale to try to put an end to the nervous hair-twisting and foot-tapping (while he ignored his own nervous habits). But Beelzebub looked tired for the first time since the plague and said that there was nothing they knew. They pushed a new assignment at Crowley and told him to get back on Earth. Now, Crowley waited for the right time to tell Aziraphale about what the manila folder said.

“And what do we make of that?” Crowley mumbled.

“Humans don’t know what’s going on. They don’t know how their own homes are being affected.”

“The ones at war are censoring the newspapers,” Crowley said. “For morale or something. That’s what my lot said. They asked if I was responsible for it.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I took credit for it.”

“Of course.”

“They don’t have time to check if I actually did. They’re busier than usual—”

“So is Heaven.”

“With all the new people and trying to find—”

“To find Pestilence.”

Aziraphale took a sip of wine, cringed at the taste, and sat his glass on the table. It wasn’t the fine vintage he was used to drinking, but it was going to have to do. Everyone was tightening their belts for the sake of the commotion in Germany, and it only felt fair that Aziraphale do the same. Crowley had yet to follow suit.

“At least War is behaving—well, as much as War can behave,” Crowley said. “Might be the war of the century, but at least she’s not going rogue and causing a,” Crowley waved his hand, “second wave or whatever they’re calling it.”

“How do the Horsemen just lose one of their people?”

“They don’t report to anyone. It’d be easy to slip out and hide in the middle of a pandemic before anyone noticed he was getting carried away. No one really pays attention to what happens on Earth. Look at us.”

Aziraphale twisted the gold band on his ring finger. A year ago they had slipped off to France together and, after a bottle and a half of wine, found a group of young students outside a bar they were leaving. Crowley, wearing a white dress, was asked if she was on her way to her wedding. The students looked up at her with half-lidded eyes and passed their own wine bottle around between giggles.

Crowley had looked at Aziraphale and made a comment about someone not committing. Aziraphale had tried sputtering an excuse, but the students booed at him and insisted on them getting married right there. One lanky boy made up a prayer and vows and declared them to be married after they laughed through oui and a kiss. The other students cheered and offered them both a swig of their wine.

The next morning as they laid in bed with the morning sunlight peeking through their blinds, they decided that that could be enough. It wasn’t a legal marriage by any means, but that meant little. They didn’t truly abide by human laws and ceremonies and so, they bought two golden bands once their heads stopped aching that afternoon.

“Well, hopefully, they find him in time before the situation gets any worse. The king of Spain falling ill has Pestilence’s name written all over it. I wouldn’t be surprised if more government heads start collapsing or if Spain as a whole has more trouble.”

“I, uh.” Crowley sunk down on the sofa. His chest tightened. “I’m actually assigned to go to Spain in a few days. They want me reporting on the deaths and all that in Madrid and to perform some temptations. Since they’re not in the war, Hell thinks I should be giving them an extra push.”

Aziraphale straightened in his chair. “Spain? That’s wonderful!”

“Why?” Crowley scrunched his nose. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“That’s fine. My dear, I didn’t want to tell you when you were in this state, but I’m to go to Spain next week.”

Crowley sat up, clutching at the edges of the sofa so he wouldn’t fall over in his wine-induced dizziness. “Really?”

“They said it’s in desperate need of blessings with the new outbreaks and international blame. They didn’t tell me to settle down anywhere, but I’m sure if I were to learn that a certain agent of Hell was in Madrid they’d understand me staying there for an extended time.”

It wasn’t unusual that they would be assigned to the same location at the same time. Their entire purpose on Earth, they had once established, seemed to be to just cancel one another out. It was best for neither of them to carry out their tasks or for one of them to do both.

“Well, it might be time for a holiday,” Crowley said.

“We can’t holiday in the middle of all of this. We should do some work at least if we’re both going to be there.”

“No one’s going to know.”

“I’m sure they’ll actually be reading your reports this time, Crowley,” Aziraphale warned. “You won’t be able to fake your way out of this one.”

Crowley grimaced. Aziraphale had a point. If he was supposed to report numbers and act as eyes for Hell, then the chances of Beelzebub skimming his reports would be slim.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll do a little work. But, I want to see the beaches at some point.”

“We’ll have plenty of free time once Pestilence calms down. My higher-ups told me this afternoon that they think he’ll reign in his pandemic soon. War is scheduled to stop her mess within the next few months, and he might call off his affair at the same time. Or at the very least, the virus won’t spread as it has been without soldiers moving from country to country.”

Aziraphale didn’t sound like he believed it. No one could predict what the Horsemen did. No one gave them assignments or asked for reports like low-level angels and demons. If Pestilence wanted to keep going, he would. It wasn’t regulation for anyone to confront him.

Crowley sipped at his wine. The more he had, the less he noticed the stinging flavor on his tongue. His head was fuzzy.

“You know,” he said, “we could probably look for the bastard ourselves.”

“What do you mean?”

“If there’s a fuss in Spain right now, Pestilence might be there. Think about it, he finished his influenza spree, then it was silent, and now all of a sudden Spain is being hit with fatal cases in small pockets? There’s not soldiers over there passing it around like the Americans and Brits are doing. It wasn’t a steady rise, either. It just… happened.”

“He usually works quite remote. You really think he’s lingered in one country?”

Thanks to the human need to socialize and their general ignorance of proper sanitation, Pestilence could spend only one day in a city and his most recent disease would spread to the entire country by the end of the week. Crowley saw him once during the plague ordeal. And that was how it usually went. Pestilence would infect one person and move on as his disease steadily spread.

If he didn’t cause such grotesque suffering and death to the most vulnerable people, Crowley would admire him for his work and be quick to compare it to his own. Humans had a tendency to muck things up on their own. All occult beings needed to do was knock over the first domino, and Crowley could tell when someone was knocking over all of them in one sweep and kicking them across the room.

“To spread it around as fast as he could to a country that isn’t censoring their papers or having their army move around? Yes. You know how much of an ego he has, and he hasn’t been getting any attention in most of Europe. He doesn’t have to fight for the spotlight with War over there. He gets all the headlines and all the hysteria. He’s probably thriving there right about now.”

Aziraphale hummed. “You make a fair point. Those four are really as bad as toddlers at times, aren’t they? Remember the trouble in Ireland? Famine went too far with that one.”

“I’m still convinced the English made it worse on their own.”

“Wouldn’t put it past them.” Aziraphale furrowed his brow, pulling himself back into the topic at hand. “But how do we find Pestilence? He could be anywhere in Spain—if he’s there at all.”

Crowley folded his arms across his chest and sank back into the sofa. “Might have to figure that one out later. Might have to trace death rates or something or where new cases are popping up.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up. “Like one would in a detective novel!”

Crowley smiled. “Exactly.”

“I think we can piece it together once we’re both sober. I’m sure the humans are keeping records of everything. We could make copies and look at the newspapers. We could probably find ourselves in a hospital occasionally and look around.”

“Or we could always be in the hospitals. Beelzebub told me that they’re getting overwhelmed. That’d be perfect for both of us. I could tempt the staff, put doubt in their minds and whatnot. And you can do your blessings from there. And then, we would have records and gossip, and we could narrow down where the bastard is.”

“I could pose as a priest. I’m sure there’s a need for them in hospitals. What would you do, dear? Pose as a doctor?”

“I was thinking a nurse.” Crowley wiggled in his seat, pulling his legs up under him. He was getting sleepy from the wine. “I’d be with more patients. I could scope out more of the hospital that way.”

“You’d make quite a charming nurse.”

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale looked at the clock on his desk. Crowley propped his head on his fist, blinking lazily at the angel as he began to bustle around the small room. He placed a stopper in the wine bottle and moved it, along with his own glass, onto the shelf that usually held multiple wines and liqueurs. It sat next to a lonely, half-full Moscato.  

“You must be ready to sleep, my dear.” Aziraphale plucked his glass from his hands. “Would you like to stay here?”

Crowley usually didn’t take his chances with staying at the bookshop for too long. Even if they were married by their own standards, they never risked being in each other’s company for longer than 24 hours in case someone was watching. But with the strain Hell was under, Crowley thought that maybe they wouldn’t notice if he spent one more night on Azirphale’s sofa. So, he nodded.

Aziraphale draped a blanket over him. “Do stretch out, dear, or you’ll be sore in the morning.”

Crowley laid on the sofa, his clothes turning into pajamas. Aziraphale adjusted the blanket around him and swept a loose strand of hair off Crowley’s forehead. These were the tender moments that made Crowley want to go rogue himself and run away with Aziraphale so that every night he could feel the soft, chubby fingers at his temple and light breath on his cheek as Aziraphale kissed him.

“Have sweet dreams.”

And Crowley would.

Comment, drop kudos, bookmark and/or subscribe on AO3!

[darkblueboxs]

howdy i love your aftg writing!! here’s a concept: i feel like once neil’s past is out, he has no reason to hesitate absolutely sucker punching someone. like we know he made neil a pushover because it raises less questions, but now that everyone knows who he is im SURE he’s just bitch slapped someone mid-game. no holding back, like if u say something fucked up he’s just gonna try to kill you!! do you know who this man is?? there’s no doubt in my mind that he knows some quick and lethal punches!

Oh yes, anon. Bruiser!Neil I can DEFO get behind. 

Here’s 3k of Neil punching stuff, and Andrew being wildly turned on by it. Read here or on AO3 (Check AO3 notes for content warnings, etc.)

*Edit* : In the original version of this fic, Nicky faces racist abuse in addition to homophobic abuse, and quotes the offensive language and slurs used against him. After concerns were raised regarding how I handled this abuse (specifically, the language used, the context in which the abuse takes place, and my position as a non-latine) I censored and subsequently removed the relevant dialogue. I sincerely apologise and promise to do better in the future. Please don't hesitate to contact me with any questions and concerns regarding this subject.

[01/06/2020]

All the Guys Love a Bruiser

Neil’s mother taught him how to throw a punch, of course she did. Their lessons took place anywhere spacious enough to swing a fist, in empty parking lots behind greasy gas stations or in dingy motel rooms if she thought the walls were thick enough to cover up the noises they made.

Mary had always been more flight than fight, an instinct she had forced into Neil over years of running. Even she had to admit, however, that sooner or later they would hit a dead end, and while that would spell certain death for both of them, it would be better to go down fighting than it would on their knees.

If their lessons ended with Neil aching black and blue, it was his own fault. He needed to be quicker, smarter, crueller. More like his mother.

Matt’s teaching style is different from Mary’s, as is his fighting style. It bears the hallmarks of professional athleticism, all stances and positioning and strategy. While his mother’s idea of a lesson in self-defence was to hit Neil until he figured out how to dodge her blows or hit back, Matt talks him through how to angle his body, how to make a fist in a way that won’t break his fingers. At the end of their first boxing lesson, the only bruises on Neil’s body are the light purple spreading across his knuckles.

That evening, he and Andrew take over the beanbags, TV muted in the background while they dig into ice-cream. The tub is pleasantly cool in Neil’s hands, and he rubs his knuckles against the sides like an improvised icepack. When the residual cold has melted away, Neil flexes his fingers, enjoying the faint tingle dancing across them. These marks are different from those his mother gave him; they weren’t inflicted on him unwillingly but earned with sweat and exertion. When Matt had let go of the punching bag and told him they were done for the day, Neil had been surprised by his own disappointment. He had never been sorry see the end of his mother’s lessons.

Andrew takes his hand suddenly, startling Neil from his thoughts. It’s a purely analytical touch; he turns Neil’s hand over and runs a finger across the blossoming bruises of his knuckles.

Neil bites back the I’m fine, knowing the look it would earn him. Instead he says, “I had fun. We’re meeting again next week.”

Andrew nods. It’s a few moments more before he relinquishes Neil’s hand, however. The heat of Andrew’s skin mingles with the singing twinge of Neil’s bruises like an after-print.

Next week, Andrew slouches into the gym after Neil. He ignores Matt’s invitation to join them, flopping onto a rowing machine and leaning back against the machinery so he can kick his feet up on the seat rail. They’re lucky that they chose unsociable hours for their workout, or a line of athletes would be forming to glare at him.

Andrew watches them train from across the room with apparent disinterest. He can feign boredom all he likes; Neil knows he wouldn’t have bothered following him to the gym without reason.

Matt, if anything, seems amused by Andrew’s presence. “Dan comes to watch me practice sometimes, too.” He pauses to correct the angles of Neil’s feet before nudging his arms into blocking positions. “She did it even before we started dating. She used to sit on an exercise bike and pretend she was cycling so I wouldn’t know she was there to watch me. It was never very convincing.”

“Why did she want to watch you?” Neil shifts his weight, trying to copy Matt’s position.

Matt’s face crinkles up with laughter. “That’s the most Neil thing you’ve ever said.”

“Everything I say is a Neil thing.”

“She liked it when I took my shirt off. C’mon, man, join the dots.”

“You don’t take your shirt off to box.”

“Yeah,” says Matt. “Don’t tell her that.”

Neil rolls his eyes. “Can I hit you now?”

Matt barks out a laugh, and training resumes.

“Enjoying the show?” Neil asks Andrew an hour later, dropping down on the gym mat next to him. Andrew hands Neil his water bottle with an unimpressed look.

“You’re awful.” Andrew flicks a look over to Matt, who is using their break to chat with the only other gym regular insane enough to be working out at the crack of dawn on a Sunday. “He could knock you on your ass with one right hook.”

“I know I’m awful. That’s what training is for.” Neil pauses to gulp down most of the bottle. A droplet escapes his lips and tracks down his jugular before falling into the dip of his clavicle. Andrew’s eyes track its path. “Matt isn’t going to hurt me. Is that what you’re worried about?”

“I’m not here to babysit you.”

“Huh.” Neil drains the last of the water before shaking the residual droplets over his head. The beads glint in the corners of his vision as they catch in his bangs and fleck his cheeks, mercifully cooling against his skin. Andrew is still watching him intently. His eyes flick to Matt once more, checking that he is still absorbed in his conversation.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Neil replies, and he watches as Andrew takes Neil’s hand in his. The skin is flushed from strike after strike, not yet coloured in bruising patches but soon to be. Neil’s hands feel softer for it, sensitive to Andrew’s touch.

“I know my limits.” Neil isn’t sure why the gym suddenly feels three degrees warmer. “Really, it doesn’t hurt.”

“I know. I trust you.” Andrew sends one more look over Neil’s shoulder like he’s checking the coast is clear before pressing Neil’s knuckles to his lips.

The breath Neil was in the process of catching slips from his grasp entirely. “Oh.”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“You like watching me fight.”

“It’s more interesting than watching you run.”

Neil leans in until he can see each individual freckle on Andrew’s cheeks. “Interesting?”

Andrew’s cool look is betrayed by the twitch of his jaw. “Something like that.”

If Matt notices Neil’s new vigour when they return to practice, he doesn’t comment on it. When he catches Neil’s eye, however, he grins knowingly. Perhaps Matt’s conversation had not been as absorbing as he made it out to be. Soon, however, the rhythm of the exercise draws Neil’s attention back to the task at hand.

Neil first learned to throw a punch because his mother believed that one day his life could depend on it. That isn’t the reason that he has resumed his training with Matt; it turns out that a good instructor and fewer death threats make the activity far more pleasant than Neil remembers. It may be a useful skill, but he values the challenge more than he does the practicality. The physicality, too – in fact, he likes boxing for the same reasons that he loves Exy. Quick, brutal, thrilling. He finally understands, too, why Andrew likes to spar with Renee whenever his emotions get on top of him. There’s a certain a sense of control that comes from putting his fist through a break-board. Not that he needs the empowerment as much as he once might have – most of Neil’s tormentors were killed long ago, his fears with them. Given his new life of safety and security, it’s likely that he’ll never really need to know how to throw a good punch.

It takes all of one week for Neil to be proven wildly, wildly wrong.

Opposition strikers – with one glaring, now very dead exception – are not typically Neil’s problem. Generally, if they end up playing on the same side of the court as him, something has gone wrong in the team’s strategies.

He can tell even from a distance, however, that one of the Terrapin strikers is causing difficulties. Not in terms of ability – of which Terrapin’s #13 has little – but in attitude. Thirteen is a vocal player, and Neil can hear snatches of his voice echoing across the court. No fists have been swung, which is an impressive feat for the Fox defenders, but perhaps only because the luck of substitutions has put Thirteen against Nicky more than anyone else, and Nicky is more likely to react to insults with mirth than anger.

Shortly before the end of the first half, Nicky is subbed off at the same time as Thirteen. Nicky passes Neil on the way to the court doors, clacking their racquets together with half a smile. “Give them hell, Neil.”

Thirteen passes them at the same moment, slamming Nicky’s shoulder as he passes. Nicky mutters a word under his breath that would have earned him a month of washing-up duty at Abby’s house before heading for the Foxes’ bench. Neil watches him go, eyebrows creasing together. Nicky isn’t easily upset by the cruelty of strangers; it’s the cruelty that comes from within his own family that is most likely to shake him from his good humour. The barbed insults of nameless players on the court, on the other hand, are usually brushed off with a rude gesture and no more.

Swept up in the rush of the match, Neil forgets about Nicky’s discomfort until half-time. The team pours from the court in high spirits; they have a decent lead over the Terrapins which should carry them through the second half when exhaustion starts to kick in. Nicky, despite having blocked more shots on goal than anyone, reacts to the arrival of the rest of the team with only a pallid grin. His grip on his water bottle is tight, and the cheap plastic crackles and caves in his hands.

Nicky is an easy read, and it doesn’t take long for the other Foxes to notice. After he brushes Renee’s concerned enquiry off, however, the team leaves him be.

When Neil returns to the court for the start of the third quarter, he breathes a sigh of relief to see that Thirteen is nowhere near Nicky. He’s standing closer to goal than Neil is happy with, but Andrew is more or less impervious to verbal abuse and Thirteen has yet to show signs of physical violence. As much as he wants to keep a closer eye on the situation, Kevin’s barked commands draw his attention to the match at hand. The best thing Neil can do for the Foxes’ defence is to spend as much time lobbing the ball at the Terrapin’s goal as possible.

Neil and Nicky are substituted at the same time; they collapse onto the bench and drown their exhaustion in Gatorade. Thirteen crushed Nicky against the wall moments before the substitution, and Nicky is uncharacteristically quiet as Abby examines the cut over his eye.

“You’re not whining about cramping your style,” she says as she presses a plaster in place. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, this is great for my style. All the guys love a bruiser.” Nicky winks despite the blood crusting in his eyelashes. “Neil knows what I’m talking about, don’tcha, Neil?”

Abby makes a noise that isn’t convinced, but doesn’t press the issue. Neil waits until she’s out of earshot before saying casually, “I still have a few contacts in the mafia.”

“Your sense of humour is dire,” says Nicky, but he’s grinning, so Neil counts it as a win. “Don’t worry about it. I think Andrew’s drawing his fire now. Andrew handles that kind of thing a lot better than me.”

“What kind of thing?”

Nicky winced. “Don’t ask.”

“Tell me.”

“Let's just say he isn't exactly lining up to lead a Pride march.” Nicky snorts humorlessly.

The joke doesn’t land, and not because of Neil’s non-existent sense of humour. He may not be as obvious as Nicky in his preferences nor as dark-skinned, but he has still been on the receiving end of enough of that brand of bullshit to know how it scratches at one’s insides.

“I wasn’t joking about those contacts.”

Nicky sighs. “I was worried you would say that.”

Neil’s attention keeps slipping from the game and over to Andrew, who is standing in goal and ignoring the tirade of insults being thrown his way like a statue facing down a breeze. His non-reaction only seems to stoke Thirteen’s fury, spittle catching in the mesh of his helmet as he watches Andrew knock yet another attempt away from the Foxes’ end.

Andrew spares Thirteen no more than a second of blank indifference in the face of his tirade. Then he drops his stance, shoulders setting into a silent challenge that sends a hot bolt of excitement straight Neil’s to gut. Andrew is locking down the goal.

The Terrapins don’t score again for the rest of the match.

Neil is through the doors before the final buzzer has died, charging into the crush of Foxes at centre-court to join in their celebrations. Andrew, as usual, hovers at the edge of the throng, but he accepts the clack of Neil’s racquet against his. A light sheen of sweat dances across Andrew’s forehead and his lips are parted as he regains his breath after the exertion of locking the Terrapins out.

“Did Thirteen give you trouble?”

Andrew snorts derisively despite his breathlessness. “He tried.”

Neil gets to see Thirteen up close during the handshakes. He barely grazes the tips of each Foxes’ fingers as he passes one by one, but he stops when he gets to Neil. “I remember you. You were all over the news, weren’t you? The runaway Wesninski.” His expression speaks to his delight at the revelation. To no-one’s surprise, Thirteen is a sore loser.

Andrew barely moves, just a slight adjustment to his footing so that he presses a little closer into Neil’s shoulder.

Neil smiles. It is the kind of smile he has not had use for in some time. “Looking for an autograph?”

Thirteen snorts. “Bet you think you’re real bad. Bet you think those scars make you look tough. Too bad you’re still a puny little bitch.”

Neil flexes his hand before clenching it into a fist. “I do think I’m real bad, actually. Want to find out why?”

The striker waits for the hit to come. Neil doesn’t give him the satisfaction; the guy is a piece of shit, but he isn’t worth the trouble he’s clearly looking for. Neil drops his hands, meets his gaze, and waits for him to give up on getting his reaction and leave.

Most of the other players are moving off to their own respective sides, and their stand-off is beginning to attract attention. Kevin squints over at them, and at his side, Aaron pulls off his helmet.

“Oh shit. Twins.” Thirteen’s gaze swings from Aaron to Andrew, flashing with sudden recognition. “I remember you too.” His expression turns sharkish. “Now that was a story. So, which one is the murderer, and which is the brother-fucker?”

Andrew barely twitches. Neil’s reaction is less restrained.

It’s almost a play-by-play of decking Riko at the Winter Banquet.  The key difference between that punch and this one is hours of training with a borderline-professional boxer.

Neil squares his stance, draws back his fist, and puts his whole body behind the punch. He’s rewarded with the sickening crack of a nose breaking and a hot spurt of blood splattering his knuckles.

Thirteen staggers back, shock registering for a second before he spits blood at the floor. He’s swaying on his feet, but there’s still fight in his eyes.

Andrew’s hands go to his sheaths, but Neil waves him back. He wipes the hand bloodied by Thirteen’s face across his jaw unthinkingly, feels the wet, red heat clinging to his skin. “Hey. This one’s mine.” The smile he tacks onto the words is toothier than he means it to be. With blood still smeared across his chin, he can only imagine how he looks.

Andrew’s hand judders to a halt at the hems of his armbands. His jaw is clenched tight but roaring over the current of concern is something far darker. It creeps into his eyes, a weight to his gaze normally only visible in the privacy of their bedroom. Andrew’s gaze runs the length of Neil’s body before coming to rest on Neil’s mouth. His bottom lip catches momentarily in his teeth as he nods.

Thirteen’s first swing hits, and a burst of blood dances across Neil’s tongue as his lip is split open. Thirteen’s luck ends there; Neil blocks his second punch with a move Matt taught him the day before. He drives his free hand into Thirteen’s solar plexus, knocking the air from him.

Neil doesn’t get much time to appreciate how the striker falls on his ass as they’re rushed by teammates and officials who break them apart.

Neil stands placidly before Wymack and bears his row with the bare minimum of decorum. The lecture is undercut by Nicky, who’s expression alternates between elation, amusement and mock disapproval from moment to moment. Matt, at least, waits until Wymack is finished before applauding.

“I’ll give you some notes later, but all things considered it was a solid right hook.”

Neil brushes the team’s reactions off as best he can; he certainly didn’t do it for their recognition.

He takes his time showering, watching with a strange, sick pleasure as he rinses the striker’s blood away. It turns pink in the shower basin before swirling at last down the drain. Beneath the blood, Neil’s knuckles have begun to bruise, satisfaction burning them blue.

It’s at these times that Neil worries that he may have inherited too much from his father; the temper, the violence, the bloodlust. Then again, they all served as tools to his survival at one point or another. The key difference between Neil and his father is who they choose to turn their anger on. Neil’s father always set his sights on the underdog. Neil prefers to punch up.

No; if there’s one thing Nathan gave him, it was a distaste for bullies.

There’s a familiar tap at the door to Neil’s stall. The rest of the Foxes cleared out some time ago, still rowdy from the post-match high. Tonight was a home game; most of the team will be halfway back to Fox tower already, thinking only of booze and the weekend stretching ahead of them. There’s only one player who would have any reason to linger.

Andrew steps under the spray, his hair is plastered to his head by the steamy drizzle. He holds his hand out, and Neil offers his without question for Andrew’s inspection.

Andrew’s voice is dispassionate as he inspects the damage. “I don’t need a knight in shining armour. Nor for you to fight my battles for me.”

“The fight was for my own satisfaction. But I’ll stop if you want me to.”

Once again, Andrew presses his lips to Neil’s raw knuckles. The contact stings, sweet and savoury, pleasure and pain. “Would it kill you to make life easy for once?” The words tingle against the tender skin.

“I thought you liked to watch me fight.”

“Just because I find your stupidity entertaining doesn’t mean I encourage it.”

“It’s my stupidity you like, is it?”

“What else do you have?” Andrew’s eyes track the rivulets of water snaking down Neil’s neck.

“I’m sure I can think of a few things.” Neil says. Then, for clarity, “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Andrew doesn’t let go of Neil’s hand, thumb running across the reddening knuckles once more before leading it to his chest. Neil leaves it resting there, marvelling at the colours bleeding between them under the shower’s onslaught, pink and brown and red and blue. Andrew soon tires of Neil’s staring, and is the first to bridge the gap between them.

Neil once compared Andrew’s kisses to a fight with their lives on the line. Countless kisses later, this fact has not changed in the slightest. Andrew leaves a bruising trail of kisses across Neil’s neck until he can’t remember which marks are from Exy and which are from Andrew. They all sting the same, sweet way.

Each kiss pressed to his mouth carries a metallic tang from Neil’s burst lip. He can tell from the fierce pressure of Andrew’s mouth against his that Andrew can taste it too, is feeding off the adrenaline rush just as Neil is. He catches Neil’s bottom lip between his teeth and with it sucks a groan from deep in Neil’s chest.

Andrew draws back to level him with an unimpressed look. “You’re far too into this.”

“You’re one to talk.” Neil raises his hand to Andrew’s eyeline, wiggling his fingers. Andrew’s eyes catch on the blooming violet patches. “You like this. Admit it.”

Andrew steps forward until his cheek brushes Neil’s fingers. Neil turns his hand automatically, cupping Andrew’s face.

“Yes,” says Andrew. His eyes stay on Neil’s, even as Neil’s hand drops lower.

It’s a small miracle, Neil thinks, that Andrew can trust Neil’s hands on him, after all he knows they are capable of. Maybe that’s part of the appeal, the evidence painted into Neil’s knuckles that Neil’s gentler touches are reserved for Andrew and Andrew alone. It’s strange that Andrew should love Neil’s fighting spirit as much as he does. After all, it was Andrew who taught Neil how to stand and fight in the first place.

It’s a fact that neither will ever let the other forget.

Neil leaves the shower sporting several more bruises than he entered with. Some are from Exy, some are from fighting, and some are from Andrew’s mouth.

He loves them all just the same.

 * Thanks for reading, let me know what you think! Still open to prompts etc.

[marvelousworldgeek-blog]

Texting Strangers

Author: Kennedy

Characters: Fem!Reader and…?

Story: Y/N, who’s going through a rough patch, texts a random number in search of a friend.

Rated PG-13 for language, mention of drinking

Warnings: Reader is going through a rough patch, but I tried to keep it on the lighter side. Also, use of language.  

“Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart?”

The lilting voice of The King floated in through the open window as Y/N sat at her desk, staring at the blank screen in front of her. There was plenty of work to be done, sure. But what was the point now. She hated her job, her coworkers, the tiny cubicles, the sound the water cooler made every time an air bubble floated up. And here she was on a Saturday working from home to try and finish whatever dry, boring project her boss had saddled her with, knowing that Y/N was the only person who would actually get it done. Nevermind that Marc had ten years of experience on her two, or that it was actually Kayla’s department that was in charge of this particular project. Or the fact that Y/N was still technically an intern.

“Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare? Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?”

And to throw a cherry on top of this hate-my-life sundae, today marked the official six month anniversary of Jeremy moving out. Break ups were always tough, of course. But things could have certainly been easier if he hadn’t literally picked up and left in the middle of the night. It seemed as though the past year had been one big non-stop “fuck you”. Work? Terrible. Relationship? Long-dead. Family? Radio silence. Friends? Moved away. Apartment? Actually starting to feel like a cave.

Y/N glanced around the room at the stack of empty takeout boxes, the pile of paperwork, the week-old laundry. Motivating oneself to clean up seemed an immense task when the overwhelming feeling in life was ‘why bother?’

“Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?”

The sad song was just too ironic to handle at that moment. Her neighbor across the courtyard was a huge Elvis fan, and listened to old records nearly every night. For the most part it was nice to have the soft music as a background when she was home, but tonight it was a glib reminder of how lonely she actually was.

“This is bullshit,” Y/N muttered to herself and closed the laptop.

It was saturday night and she wasn’t about to stay at home and mope her way through another weekend. No sir. And so with all the energy and false confidence she could muster, Y/N grabbed an outfit out of the closet, threw on some makeup, and headed out on the town.

…

Okay, so maybe the nightclub scene wasn’t what she was after. Thirty minutes to get in, twenty waiting for a drink, then a whole lot of sitting around on garrish plush furniture waiting for someone to walk over and strike up a conversation. The closest she came was two drunk girls telling her they liked her shoes before stumbling off into the sweaty fray. And now this overpriced, watered-down drink was going straight to her bladder.

Y/N set the now empty cup on a table and headed off for the line to the bathrooms. Surprisingly, she only had to wait for two people before she got in and locked herself into a stall. The walls were as high as the ceiling and provided a satisfying amount of privacy. Behind the safety of four walls, Y/N finally had a chance to breathe. And once again the stress of the past months settled in, despite the cheap liquor pumping through her bloodstream. She leaned her head against the wall next to her and sighed, tracing the faded graffiti.

“Satisfaction guaranteed. Call now!” and a number scrawled below, along with a doodle of a stick figure with a ‘censored’ bar over its lower half. Giggling to herself, Y/N snapped a picture and tucked her phone back into her purse. With a defeated groan she clicked back out to the sinks.

“Oh my GOD, couch girl!”

The shrill voice cut through the bathroom, and Y/N (along with everyone else) turned to glance at its owner.

“Come here, come here,” the blonde girl from earlier gripped Y/N’s hand and dragged her out into the club again, “Come dance!”

And then the evening descended into a blur.

…

Y/N woke to the bright morning sun pouring through the window of her own bedroom. Her head was pounding, her feet ached, and her stomach felt sour. Last night had turned into a long, drawn out drunken dance fest with her two new friends (whose names and numbers she had never managed to get), and in the cold light of day Y/N vowed to never try and drink her woes away again.

After much groaning, she managed to shuffle to the kitchen and set the hot water on, all the while cursing her past self. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed her phone and checked the screen. One unread text.

“Dammit,” she groaned.

Work never stops. Reluctantly, she opened the message.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, feel free to drop me a line again.”

An unknown number, great. Y/N scrolled back up through the rest of the conversation. And was surprised to find several hours worth of back-and-forth with the mystery person. Somehow, in her intoxicated state, she had poured out her heart to a complete stranger, telling them all about the stress and sadness and heartache over her life. In turn, they had offered support and humor, and if she hadn’t known better she would have assumed this was a conversation between close friends.

“What the-”

Y/N recalled the number from the wall of the club bathroom. In a panic, she checked the photos on her phone. But the number didn’t match the one she had texted. At least not exactly. Somewhere during her night out she had attempted to text this mystery man but instead had hit up some poor clueless stranger and had a long drawn-out conversation over the course of the evening.

With an exasperated sigh, Y/N tossed her phone on the counter and retired to the couch in defeat.

…

“You look really tired,” Kayla’s brunette locks appeared above the edge of Y/N’s cubicle.

Y/N nodded; “It was a long weekend.”

“Did you finish the projection project?”

“I put it on his desk this morning.”

“Ah man,” Kayla sighed. “I was hoping I could hand it in to him. I have some, um, stuff I had to go over.”

“Like taking all the credit?” Y/N thought to herself.

“Oh well, I’ll get the next one. Thanks!”

Then she bounced away, heels clicking loudly against the floor.

Y/N leaned her forehead against the desk and groaned.

“Fuuuck…”

Her phone buzzed and Y/N sat up, rubbing her temple, and pressed the notification.

“Hope they aren’t giving you too much crap today.”

Y/N frowned; it was the stranger from the night before.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

It was only a moment before they replied; “You mentioned you might say that!”

“Ha ha sounds about right. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“A friend.”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered to herself, frowning. “Is this being cute? Or shady…”

“A friend with a name?”

“I thought you said we weren’t doing names?”

“Of course drunk me would say that,” Y/N thought.

“Okay friend. Tell me a little about yourself.”

“I’m a member of a secret organization who kept me in a lab for the first part of my life in order to mold me into a super weapon. Now I spend my free time saving the world.”

“You’re funny.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Y/N smiled to herself; “Okay ‘friend’ I’ll leave it be for now. You’re a superhero.”

“Really just a run-of-the-mill hero.”

“Mm-hm, I’ll take your word for it.”

“If you didn’t have to do your job, what would you want to be?”

The question caught Y/N off guard; she hadn’t thought about it in so long. She had been fully focused on getting through school, then getting a job that could get her out of her parents  house and on her own. She hadn’t thought about what she actually wanted to be.

“Um, idk”

“That’s not good.”

“I have a job. That’s what really matters,” she paused, then added, “Do you like your job?”

“I love it.”

“You’re lucky.”

“What do you like to do?”

Y/N sat for a few minutes and considered this.

Another text came through: “???”

Finally she typed, “I love to cook. I actually took a bunch of cooking and culinary arts classes in school. But I would hate being a chef. The hours are outrageous and it gets stuffy in the kitchen.”

“What about a food truck? You could make your own hours, drive to different places every day, you could even travel.”

Y/N actually laughed aloud to herself. She had never considered cooking for a living. She had worked as a waitress when she was in highschool and the kitchen staff were always miserable and overworked. Not to mention kind of mean. She had written off cooking for a living right then and there.

“I’d never thought of that.”

“What is your favorite thing to cook?”

“Breakfast food and baked goods, mostly.”

“That is perfect food truck food!”

“I suppose it is…”

“You should check this out,” they replied, then sent a link to an article titled ‘Considering Opening a Food Truck? Read these fifteen true stories from other chefs who did the exact same thing!’

“I’ll check it out, thanks!” Y/N name typed back, still smiling to herself.

“Hey friend, can I text you tomorrow? I have to go save some kids from a bus on fire.”

“Of course. Be safe, Superman!”

“Hm, nah. Call me ‘Batman’.”

“Okay, be safe Batman.”

“Read that article; I’ll ask you about it tomorrow!”

Y/N chuckled as she pressed save contact and typed ‘Batman’ into the name.

To be continued... 

[shockwrites]

Study Session

Author’s Note: Aaaaaaand Deltarune trash

Series: Deltarune

Pairing: Slight Kris/Susie

Length: 1378 words

Rating: Safe

You’re having a minor panic attack.

You only say ‘minor’ because you’re just that good at hiding it. You’ve always been. Sure it seemed creepy to just about everyone else in town (they’ve even told you straight to your face on occasion), but right at this moment, that skill was a blessing in disguise.

“Sup.”

Because she was here.

Outside of school.

In your house.

Susie was at your house.

You had no idea why that was such a surprise. You invited her over. What, did you think she’d say ‘yes’ and not come?

��Well, you might’ve before the both you became friends.

“You gonna invite me in or what?”

Susie’s flicking of your forehead snapped you back to reality. She did that often, sometimes to mess with you, other times to poke you out of those daydreams you constantly found yourself in. You wordlessly invite her in with a goofy presentation pose that caused her to snicker.

Susie tentatively glanced around the place. The house was as clean as it always was. Mom always did keep the place looking spotless although it wasn’t as if you were capable of making much mess.

Susie whistled casually. “Cozy digs.” She nonchalantly eased herself onto the couch. You heard her emit a sound you swore you never heard before. You halt your first instinct to make a sarcastic jab about her actually seeming happy for once.

By all means, not an easy task.

You were reluctant to interrupt her relaxation time but you remembered that you invited her over for a reason.

Upon hearing the news, Susie groaned out of boredom as expected. “Aw come on, Kris.” She complained, lounging further on top of the couch. Toriel certainly would not have approved of feet on top of the furniture but you decided to leave it be. “It’s not like either of us are on the honor roll or some crap. Can’t we just brush off the homework and play video games?” She eyed the particularly interesting looking game console that was recently hooked back up to the TV.

You remind her that Ms. Alphys basically passes her students just by at least handing something in. Susie scoffs in reply but finally decides to roll with it anyway.

An hour passes by of comfortable silence. So far, your pencil scribbling was the only sound in the room washing over both of you. You occasionally saw Susie scrawling something down on her own paper but it was only when your hand moved away from the answer you just wrote.

This was nice. Normally, you found doing schoolwork at home was too much of a chore – at least without your brother. You recalled when Asriel would often help you with math equations you were certain weren’t real. Long division was the spawn of demons and no one could tell you otherwise. At least with Asriel there, it seemed less like a chore. You would even play Super Smashing Fighters afterward.

But then he left.

You mentally chastise yourself for bringing up those repressed feelings. Yes, he was gone but you knew that moping about it wasn’t going to do anything. And besides…

“Hey, you got anything to eat here? I’m starving.”

At least you weren’t alone now.

You inform Susie that you put a platter of cookies to bake not too long ago. Double chocolate chip, just for those moments when single chocolate chip didn’t cut it. Man, your stomach was growling just thinking about it.

“Oh…is that what’s burning?”

Burning? They can’t be burning. You only put them in the oven before you started your home…work.

SHIT

You really hope Susie didn’t see your eyes nearly popping out of your skull as you stumbled over your own feet making a beeline for the kitchen. You know for sure she’s gonna laugh at you for that.

It was too late. The cookies you stuffed in the oven were entirely unrecognizable, merely pitch black remains of what they were intended to be. You wonder how Mom makes baking seem so easy, having some sort of six sense as to when food was finished baking.

Then you remember that you forgot to set the timer.

The crusty burnt smell only served to make your walk of shame seem worse. What kind of host serves burnt snacks? And to your best friend? For shame, Kris Dreemurr. For sha-

“Oh, shit are those the cookies?”

You hardly have time to respond before your guest snatches a black cookie from the platter. You stare at her in awe for a solid minute, watching her snarf down the piece of charcoal down whole before going in for seconds. You then remember that this was the same person who ate chalk.

Out of curiosity, you decide to try your handiwork.

Only to hack it back out the second the crusty black flakes touched your throat. Your stomach felt betrayed. Deceived by the promise of chocolate and met with the bitter taste of disappointment. You didn’t answer when she asked if you were gonna finish it, merely handing the half bitten snack to her in defeat. You wonder just how tolerant monster stomachs are for a brief moment before returning back to your homework.

Eventually, it was getting frustrating staring at the same question for the better half of 15 minutes.

You could tell Susie was feeling the same way. She was mostly waiting for you to finish just to copy. You felt the urge to remind her that that method wasn’t exactly helping you. You really wanted to get this over with so you could properly hang out and play video games but you felt the itch reaching you sooner than you anticipated.

…You figure you deserve a little break.

--

“You suuuuuuuck.”

Susie’s salt-coated insults were almost music to your ears. Somehow, you realize that this was what your brother must have been tasting after all those years of straight up destroying you at video games.

It felt wonderful.

You cheekily asked Susie if she was up for a rematch. The monster’s pride of course never failed to disappoint. As you prepped to pick your usual main, the dread pink gumball, you heard the door open.

“Kris? I’m home!”

Smiling, you greet your mother with a wave which she sweetly returned. Her expression froze however when her eye caught sight of your guest.

“Uhh, hi Ms. Toriel.” Susie awkwardly responded. Seeing a teacher outside of school. You’ve been there. It’s beyond weird. You didn’t blame her for feeling a bit out of place.

Your mother, on the other hand, looked like her brain had just exploded and was putting itself back together. “Oh Kris, you brought…a friend?! A girl?! Friendgirl?!? Girlfriend??!??!”

Somehow Toriel pieced the whole thing together in the worst word association possible. You were speechless (which wasn’t entirely surprising). It took a moment to search for a proper response but luckily Susie did all the talking for you.

“Girlfriend?! Wh-Heck no!” You were impressed at how well she censored herself. “It’s-it’s nothing like that, I mean…Tell her, Kris!”

You attempted to back up her claim but in a tiny moment of weakness, your lucid imagination worked against you, planting a not quite unpleasant scenario of you and Susie.

You and Susie.

Engaging in only the most heinous of all debaucherous acts:

Holding hands.

The controller dropped from your hand. No words left your mouth. Even more mortifying, your face was now a shade redder. Susie looked at you with total betrayal, though from the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn there was a light tint of pink along her scaly cheeks.

Amidst the embarrassed air of the living room, your mother grinned widely at Susie. “I’ll just leave you two be for now. Would you like some pie? Oh! How about some tea? Why don’t I set the table for you!”

She bolted right over to the kitchen faster than she rambled. Total silence fell over both you and Susie, neither of you even playing the game. You dared to glance at her, only to be met with an expression you could only describe as an unholy blend of anger, embarrassment, and…flattery?

You shoot her a sheepish smile.

She shot you a punch to your arm.

[scarlettsabetlondongirl]

Do you know Scarlett's entire birth chart ?

The Sun represents vitality, a sense of individuality, and outward-shining creative energy.

The Sun is in Cancer 

Sun in Cancer natives have a strong survival instinct. They are protective of those they care about, and of themselves too. They are often quite reticent about sharing their inner selves to the rest of the world, and are often caught up in reminisce. Cancers have a reputation for moodiness, although this trait is most evident when the Moon is in Cancer. Cancer needs roots. They resist change to an extent, and concern themselves about being secure and safe in most everything they do. Cancers can be quite intrigued by objects with history attached to them – antiques, photos, souvenirs, and the like.

Cancer is a very sensitive sign, and they don’t always appreciate it when you are blunt with them. Their reactions to hurt will depend on how thick a shell they have developed. Most Cancers react by withdrawing or retreating. Some have developed an ability to manipulate others to get what they want. They avoid direct confrontations almost as a rule. Cancers are, in fact, quite yielding and soft when you have them in the right mood. They are one of the more hospitable signs of the zodiac. Sure, they can be touchy and indirect, but they are also very dependable, caring souls.

Short description:

She weighs words carefully and can be tenacious. A calm and discreet nature, tender, thoughtful, sensitive, and impressionable.

Possible issues: She is humble, timid, changeable, indecisive, lazy, or over-sensitive. Easily influenced by the family and sometimes manipulative.

Cancer with ascendant Sagittarius

Sun in VII: The Sun is in the seventh house

You take pride in your ability to negotiate, and to establish harmony in your relationships. It is important to you to have a partner, as you feel incomplete without one. You are motivated to become well-liked, and you are especially sensitive to rejection. One of the lessons in your life may be to avoid putting harmony and others’ opinions of you above your own needs. Use your social skills and seek out peaceful relations with others, but try not to over-identify with your partnerships and the way you are received by others. You may marry someone with a strong personality.

-383 Opposition between the Sun and Saturn

You faced a fair number of challenges in your life, especially in the first half of life, in which your attempts to express your will were often thwarted. There can be a persistent feeling that you don’t get what they want in comparison to others. You can feel unlucky at times. Attempts to control your environment, and sometimes others, may be frequent.

You want to be considered an accomplished and important person, and when you face obstacles, you don’t always see that you are your own worst enemy. You may long to be considered important in the eyes of the world, yet you harbor fear of success at the same time. You take failures and minor setbacks to heart, and may even practically beat yourself up over them. Self-awareness to the point of real self-consciousness is a possibility. The truth is, nobody holds a microscope over you, except for yourself. A little setback or a faux pas needn’t be analyzed to death. Fingers needn’t be pointed. No, you didn’t make a spectacle of yourself when you made a mistake. You need to stop worrying about always being right, or appearing suave and accomplished. When you ease the pressure you put on yourself, you find that you don’t face as many brick walls. It is very much about what you feel you deserve. Deep down inside, if you let yourself truly believe that you deserve happiness and peace of mind, you will find it.You may engage in a lot of self-censoring: “I shouldn’t..” is a common censoring mechanism with you. When you express egotism of any form, some part of you feels guilty. As the Sun rules our conscious mind, it does enough censoring on its own. It is the “adult” within us. Saturn, on the other hand, is more like the “parent” within us. We need parents to guide us when we are children, and to some degree as adults, but for the most part, we don’t need to be censored indefinitely–something that seems to be the case with Saturn-Sun hard aspects, except that the censoring and parenting is coming from within. Ideally, you eventually learn that the standards you set for yourself are too high, and that may be the reason you seem to hit brick walls. You have a sarcastic sense of humor, a keen intelligence, and the ability to apply caution and strategy. The vitality may suffer, and troubles with the bones, teeth, and circulation may surface, especially at times of stress in your life.

-63 Opposition between the Sun and Uranus

Your identity rides on your sense of personal freedom. It can be quite a challenge to get you to do what you don’t want to do, simply because you see any attempts by others to push you in a certain direction as threatening to your sense of freedom. You are a very dynamic person who questions tradition and authority, yet, paradoxically, you can be quite set in your ways! Although a humanitarian in many ways, you can be a little brusque when it comes to sentimentality or what you perceive to be excessive attachment to the past or to tradition. You can have a lot of nervous energy and defensiveness. It can be difficult to hold a 9 to 5 job or to develop steady routines. You work best when you can manage your own schedule, and you work in spurts. When you are hit with creative inspiration, you are capable of tremendous effort. However, you can be quite temperamental, and it is very hard for you to pour your hearts and souls into something that you don’t “feel” for at the moment. You don’t like superficiality or pretense, which is an admirable trait. However, your disdain for pretense can be problematic in a world where people are expected to perform whether they are inspired or not! You should try your best to channel your high levels of intuition, inventiveness, and spiritedness into creative endeavors or important causes. You might find that you encounter much less resistance in day-to-day life this way.

-209 Opposition between the Sun and Neptune

You have a desire to be something special or to experience something more than the ordinary. You are a day-dreamer and idealist. It is easy for you to trust others, even (and perhaps especially) people who might seem from the outside looking in as unsavory types. You are looking to identify with something beyond what is normally expected of people. You may have had a childhood that didn’t help you direct or define your life. Perhaps the early family life was lacking in supervision or clearly defined rules. A father figure may have been absent or distant and ineffective. You may have a glorified image of your father. Whether the image is very positive or very negative (or if it swings between these extremes), the image is not very clear or rational. Whatever the case may be, you struggle with defining who you are. You might gravitate towards the “wrong people”, or get in with the “wrong crowd” in an attempt to define who you are. You might be susceptible to being taken advantage of by others, especially by men or authority figures. You may be easily led astray by peculiar desires or self-destructive habits. In order to add a greater-than-ordinary dimension of experience to your life that helps you to feel special and important, you might be attracted to Neptune-ruled behaviors, such as secret affairs, drugs, or other escapist behaviors. In some way, you may feel a strong urge to glamorize your role in the world. There can be some confusion about the past (such as remembering childhood experiences in ways that are far removed from reality), and a tendency to daydream about being someone more “important” than you feel you are. You may struggle with early conditioning that made you feel tossed aside or neglected in some way, and certainly not directed or supported. You are very sensitive, especially with regards to any real or imagined blows to your ego. If the natal chart shows a strong sense of reality and a robust mind (Mercury and Saturn well-placed, for example), the negative interpretations of this aspect are less extreme. Still, you are likely to recognize at some point in your life that you have a tendency to engage in escapist and self-destructive fantasies and/or habits. It is useful to be able to connect these behaviors with their probable source, which is likely to be a weakly-defined ego and identity in childhood.

111 Trine between the Sun and Pluto

You have much sexual vitality and passion. It is easy and natural for you to find a passion and pursue it, and to focus on a goal. You are not much scared of anything. You enjoy and embrace growth, especially of the psychological kind. You love a good mystery, and you are adept at solving it.You readily assign meaning to what others might consider “ordinary” events. You look for symbols, and read between the lines in most any situation. The physical vitality is generally strong, and the body is usually able to heal quickly. You are not afraid to get your hands dirty, and you are usually quick to help others–not only with mundane tasks, but also on a spiritual or psychological level. Your insight is sharp and sometimes awe-inspiring. You are perceptive and not easily rattled or surprised in life. You are not a do-gooder nor are you a law-breaker. However, you are not afraid of the “dark side” of human nature, and you will bend the rules from time to time if you feel the need to do so. You take particular pleasure in growth and life’s lessons. You are not fond of superficiality, and are generally the first to spot pretense of any kind. You are passionate and can be intense. You have a hunger to experience more than just an “ordinary” life, and you can be quite ambitious. Some people with this aspect are perfectionists, demanding much from themselves and reasonable amounts of effort and honesty from others.

The Moon represents the emotional responses, unconscious pre-destination, and the self-image. The Moon represents the emotions, and the Moon sign shows how a person expresses themselves when at home, at ease, and comfortable.

The Moon is in Gemini

Lunar Geminis are usually pleasant, witty, and charming people. At home and with family, however, they can be moody and irritable at times. People with Moon in Gemini are always interesting people–they have a finger in every pie, are curious to a fault, and are generally well-informed. Nervousness and worry are common traits with this lunar position. An underlying restlessness is common, and many Lunar Geminis need more stimulation than others. They usually read a lot, talk a lot, and think a lot with this airy, mutable position of the Moon.

Their homes are often a perpetual work-in-progress. They generally dislike housework, but are big on home improvement. Re-organizing their homes in little–and sometimes big–ways seems to keep them happy, as Lunar Geminis are easily bored by both routine and constancy. Often, this is a reflection of their inner world–“the grass is always greener…” applies here. Inwardly, Lunar Geminis are often unsettled. Moon in Gemini parents are generally more adept at handling the intellectual needs of their children than emotional ones. Others’ complicated emotions, in general, can be difficult for Lunar Geminis to handle. In their families, Lunar Geminis often take on the role of organizing get-togethers. They are at their best when they have plenty of things to do beyond routine. Moon in Gemini people almost always have a way with words. They are clever and witty, and more often than not can be found chatting with others. They are sociable and friendly, and feel comfortable in crowds. Some pay too much attention to what everyone else is doing, and lose touch with what they really want to do. Generally, Lunar Geminis have a million and one projects going. They are impressionable folk, and their imagination is boundless.

Their openness to new ideas is admirable, although decisiveness and persistence take a blow as a result. Still, versatility and adaptability are some of the stronger traits of this position of the Moon. When irritable, they can easily become snappy. Their moodiness is complicated–this is not the same kind of moodiness you’ll find with water sign moons, for example. Usually, difficult behavior stems from inner restlessness. Lunar Geminis want to do it all, and have trouble sticking to any one project. When problems arise, the first instinct of Moon in Gemini natives is to talk things out. Their tendency to analyze can give them the appearance of emotional detachment. In fact, Lunar Geminis may be especially comfortable talking about their feelings, but feeling their own feelings doesn’t come as easily. Those that don’t take time out to really emote and understand their own needs may end up baffling others. Feeling misunderstood is common for Moon in Gemini natives. The only real solution to the problem is learning to get in touch with their own feelings.

Short description:

Sharp intellect. She likes literature, and will adapt to all situations and social groups. Work in contact with the public, literary occupations, travel.

Potential issues: lack of follow-up of ideas, indecision, may go back on decisions.

Moon in VII: The Moon is in the seventh house

Partnership can be very important for her, for better or for worse. She works well in business relationships, especially partnerships.

You are drawn to partnerships and prefer to have a companion for emotional support. You are not a person who would happily take in a movie by yourself, or dine alone, for example. A partner awakens feelings in you that you may never know you had, and you seem to need a partner to learn about your own needs and feelings. Emotional fulfillment is sought through relationships, but you may have many relationships one after another, each time believing that this is “the one”. Taking time between relationships is something that is hard for you to do, but quite necessary, as you tend to jump into relationships out of fear of being alone. You are very adaptable to others’ needs, and usually quite likeable as a result. Be careful that you don’t become overly dependent on a partner, or assume that a partner is going to treat you the same way as you do them.

922 Conjunction between the Moon and Mercury

You can be quite expressive and animated in your speech. You have an outstanding memory and tend to pick up a lot of information from your environment. You love to chat and to exchange ideas. Even if you are shy, once you’re friends, you love to talk about pretty much anything under the sun, and you enjoy sharing stories from your past! For the most part, you are focused on day-to-day activities in your communications rather than on grander philosophies. You are naturally curious and interested, and others find you very easy to talk to. You are accommodating and curious, but you are not as well equipped to handle heavy emotional demands. You thrive on change and variety. You might be a little addicted to gossip! More probably, however, you are simply very curious about others. There is a twinkle in your eyes, and you are never short on humor. You are playful and versatile–you make a fun companion and an interesting friend. You listen! Yes, you do talk and occasionally interrupt in your excitement, but you are a curious person who does want to hear what others have to say, and that is a real pleasure. In fact, you are more able than most people to get others talking, simply because you are very receptive and sympathetic. You pick up others’ feelings and body language readily.

She has good judgement, a good memory. She is intelligent, imaginative, vivacious, and develops, adapts, and grows throughout life. This adds a youthful, lively quality to the personality. She may have an aptitude for, or interest in, learning foreign languages.

298 Conjunction between the Moon and Jupiter

She is generally pleasantly composed, due to an inner sense of harmony and emotional balance. She is optimistic–and realistically so, most of the time–which contributes to her overall “luck.” She is able to get a real perspective on emotional matters that not only benefits her outlook, she is able to offer support to others when needed. Broad-mindedness is a wonderful characteristic. Quick to find humor in situations, she is generally warm and fun to be around. Deep down, she believes in the basic goodness of people and of life in general, and this basic and natural attitude helps her to attract positive circumstances and to make good connections. One of her best qualities is tolerance. Usually, she doesn’t take life too seriously in the sense that she believes in having a bit of fun, enjoying life. Her hunches are more often than not bang-on.

She is frank, honest, optimistic and generous. She likes good cooking, creature comforts. Her friendships are sincere. She is smart and knows how to surround herself with the right people: She is appreciated at work, usually well-liked and comfortable.

31 Trine between the Moon and Lilith

This aspect favors romantic and sexual relationships, giving charm, intrigue, and intelligence. Emotions are big, dark, and mysterious, but she embraces these things, instinctively understanding and accepting the many sides and complications of her feelings.

-25 Opposition between the Moon and Ascendant

She can be unhappily influenced by the family or childhood, or otherwise feel rather insecure about new beginnings and new situations. She may be always looking for more love, appreciation, and feedback. She is susceptible, perhaps with some superficial sensitivity and can sometimes be irascible, changeable, inconstant, and moody. However, she is usually highly intelligent, observant, and adaptable, and is very often misunderstood, projecting the wrong image more often than is comfortable.

Mercury represents communication, Cartesian and logical spirit.

Mercury is in Gemini 

Mercury in Gemini people are generally quick-witted. They can come across as somewhat scattered, and this is mainly due to their eclectic interests. They seem to know a little about everything.

Turn to Mercury in Geminis for lots of facts and figures as well as broad knowledge. Their learning is a little superficial–they generally have too many interests to delve too deeply into any one. These people learn best in a stimulating environment. They get bored easily, but they are fast learners. Impressionable to a fault, Mercury in Gemini people pick up more from their environment than most, and they can process information at lightning speed! The restlessness of Gemini is especially obvious when Mercury is placed in the sign. There is a nervous energy here that is unmistakable.

Mercury in VII: Mercury is in the seventh house

May avoid at all costs being alone. She has lots of friends, enjoying discussions and similarly cultivating plenty of work friends. She loves to write.

You have a great love of debate, if only to get closer to your own thoughts and opinions. Bouncing ideas off others helps you to make a decision, although coming to definite conclusions can be painfully difficult for you. You see the other side of the coin. You might often play devil’s advocate. Communication with a partner is craved, and you also love an audience for your own thoughts and opinions, but preferably a one-person audience, as you come alive verbally when it’s one-on-one. You can be quite skilled at keeping a partnership animated and alive with interesting tidbits, new ideas, and stimulating conversation. You can easily become bored in partnership if the lines of communication go down, even temporarily. You might also love to talk about and analyze relationships and marriage.

467 Conjunction between Mercury - Jupiter

She is intelligent with big ideas: She is tolerant and has a strong sense of justice. She has good judgement, good sense and has her feet on the ground. She has the “gift of gab,” fully enjoys literature and learning. She is erudite and will usually be successful socially.

27 Trine between Mercury - Lilith

Can be provocative in speech or communications, persuasive, interesting conversationalist, quick to see the flaws of a situation.

-7 Opposition between Mercury - Ascendant

She may criticize and gossip, arguing frequently and often nervous. Without even realizing it, she might look for or instigate a verbal battle, and can be provoking.

Communication is very important to you, and your mind is sharper and more creative when you have a partner you can bounce your thoughts and ideas off of. You are an excellent conversationalist and can fascinate your partners with your sharp mind. You love to debate issues just for the mental exercise, even if you don’t feel strongly about the position you argue! You play devil’s advocate often, and your ideal partner understands that your debates are, in fact, mental exercises–certainly not attacks! You are also prone to exaggerate or stretch the truth when trying to make your point, especially when it comes to your own background or experience.

In your close relationships, your partner serves as a mirror, reflecting your thoughts and ideas back to you from a different perspective. You are rather independent and will not allow anyone to restrict your freedom, but you love to talk things out before arriving at a decision. Truth is, you won’t always take others’ advice! However, you do enjoy looking at problems from all sorts of different perspectives. You may choose partners who are considerably younger than you, or who are not as academically smart as you. Conversations with you are always stimulating and lively. The ability to share your thoughts with a partner is vital to your sense of fulfillment in a close personal relationship.

Venus represents an interest in emotions and values, exchange, and sharing with others.

Venus is in Leo

When Venus in Leo people are in love, they are proud, even boastful. This position of Venus can turn humble Virgo Suns or retiring Cancer Suns into somewhat demanding lovers. Venus in Leo loves to court and be courted, and they need to feel very special. They are warm, generous, and even grand. Though really quite loyal to their partners (remember that love is THE most important thing in Leo’s life), they thrive on attention from lovers or love interests. Be prepared for their displays: they will tell you about any advances made on them. Remember, they’re just showing off to you, and it’s likely harmless. It’s a different story if you do the same, however. That’s when you’ll hear the lion roar…and, no doubt, you’ll want to keep these cats purring. Venus in Leo wants to appear experienced in love, even if they have little or no experience whatsoever!

Venus in Leo people have high expectations, but once you know that these expectations revolve only around how much attention you are giving them, you’ll see that they are really quite big-hearted about most everything else. They are threatened by a relationship that appears to have settled too much, or one that’s lost its spark. They are also threatened by indifferent or impersonal behavior on your part. Although their needs for physical expression through sex are generally quite strong, their need for love is perhaps even stronger. It is hard for Venus in Leo people to separate love and sex, and even their most erotic fantasies are infused with love and affection. For this reason, few Venus in Leo folk would last long in a relationship that is mostly sexual. On the flip side, they may last longer in a love-only relationship in the absence of satisfying sex, but they are unlikely to feel very satisfied.

Pleasing Venus in Leo involves paying loads of attention to them. If you’re willing to make only one adjustment in your ways, it should be to remind Leo how wonderful they are. Respect and appreciate them, always. Put up with their childlike moments and their tall tales. They want to be seen as attractive by you, so avoid (at all costs!) putting them down in this area. They actually lose interest when they perceive the slightest loss of interest in their partner, and you can expect that any letdown will be acted out in a dramatic fashion. Remind them, in a gentle way, that your emotions count too. If you are feeling a little jealous, let them know. Remember, to Venus in Leo, your small jealousies are affirmations that you find them attractive and expect the rest of the world to as well. Let them decide where to go on a date, and let them pay too. When Venus in Leo feels loved and appreciated, they reward you with loyalty, a big sense of fun, and plenty of physical expressions of their love.

Short description:

Sincere, frank, and warm affections. She is full of tenderness. High hopes in love. She likes to live and satisfy her passions to the fullest. Can be possessive and might even seduce for the sake of seducing to prove to herself that she is attractive. Very proud in love, and warm-hearted and generous with loved ones.

Venus in VIII: Venus is in the eighth house

Not frightened by the unknown. Sometimes this position means she has a peaceful and happy or natural end of life. Possible inheritance.

Intensity is what you seek in your love relationships, so that casual encounters are not necessarily your game. You are easily bored with mechanical interactions between partners, and might prefer drama in your relationships to anything mundane or superficial. However, you also fear being vulnerable in love, and, in youth, you may control your emotions in love. Fears of being betrayed may be at the heart of your somewhat jealous and possessive nature in love. When you give yourself over to love, you love wholeheartedly and expect all-consuming, total devotion and attention in return. You find passion a healing force in your life. Your charm runs deep–just below the surface. You are attracted to all that is taboo, hidden, forbidden, and find beauty in the broken, disenchanted, obsessed, and passionate. In some cases, people with this position might make a business out of love, romance, and eroticism. There is an intensity about you that others pick up readily. Either they run or they are completely intrigued!

184 Conjunction between Venus - Mars

She is amorous, not a peaceful and calm lover but a passionate one with a strong temperament. She is demonstrative in love, and usually fully enjoys healthy pleasures and life to the full.

Mars represents the desire for action and physical energy.

Mars is in Leo 

This position of Mars gives a drive for significance. Mars in Leo individuals possess a strong need to create in some way–and they are determined that their lives have not only meaning, but significant meaning! This is a particularly vital position of Mars. Passions run high, and so does desire. There is a strong will that gives these natives much staying power. Though Mars in Leo people will enjoy the pleasures of risk-taking, they generally have a strong sense of reason at the end of the day. Mars in Leo people often have well-defined ambitions. Rarely will you find a person with Mars in this position who lives life without a true sense of a “calling”. They act with authority and power, and their personal magnetism generally endows them with the ability to get what they want.

This is one of the more sexual positions of Mars. While they are rather easy to arouse, their passion is long-standing. Mars in Leo natives enjoy sex more than most, as long as heavy doses of love and romance are part of the package. In partnership, they demand loyalty and admiration. Impatient with small-mindedness and disloyalty, Mars in Leo natives generally have a strong idealistic streak. They easily get fired up when they feel they’ve been humiliated, and they defend their high principles with ardor. Mars in Leo natives act with their heart. Their ego is tied up with their actions, so that most anything they do becomes a source of great pride. Though some are self-righteous and quarrelsome, the more sophisticated people with this position are kindly leaders.

Mars in VIII: Mars is in the eighth house

Sexually very powerful, she is also capable of tremendous focus and hard work. Sexually intense and deep. May be adept at professions requiring research, strategy, uncovering truths, and analysis. Arguments may occur over inheritance.

-52 Square between Mars - Pluto

You have a tendency to impose your will upon others, which can cause severe problems for yourself when they react in self-defense. You have a hair-trigger temper and may even resort to verbal or physical abuse when upset. Learning to react to unpleasant circumstances with your intellect rather than your emotions comes with maturity.

It is all too easy for you to find something negative about a situation. Avoid issuing ultimatums when you meet an obstacle. Instead, find a way to convince others to work with you of their own free will. Ordinary life often seems drab and uninteresting to you and you must have something that stirs your imagination, some vision or ideal or dream to motivate you. You have a strong urge to act out your fantasies or to live your dream, and you will DO things that others only talk about or dream about. Artistic creation, drama, or other areas in which you can express yourself imaginatively are excellent for you.

You do not easily tolerate a dominating attitude in others. You have a healthy respect for power and authority, but only if it is handled fairly.

This aspect gives you a somewhat Scorpionic attitude toward your lovers, and it can modify the traits associated with the sign of your Mars considerably. In other words, there is a distinct possessive and demanding streak in your sexual nature. Your approach to love and sex can be quite intense at times. Your sexual desire nature is a very strong one, and you may even use sex as a bargaining chip in your relationships in order to achieve your goals. More likely, however, is a very focused and intense sexual nature. This also adds a very magnetic quality to your appeal. When someone finds you attractive, it can transform into a near obsession! Your aura is strong and somewhat mysterious. You tend to come across as stronger than you intend. In fact, some people are intimidated by you, and you may not understand why this is so. When you want something (or someone!) you are very determined. For you, it can be “all or nothing”. When you are finished with something, you leave it behind you and there is no going back. You want a deep, soulful attachment on a sexual level. In your love life, you don’t always take rejection well. You fear betrayal and abandonment, and this can skew your perception of your lover. You may have a highly developed sex drive, but you may need to learn to rein in your aggressiveness in this area. Power struggles and control issues may surface often in your relationships. You perceive the cruel edge in people, and understand its source. Self-confidence develops out of self-control in your interaction with others.

30 Trine between Mars - Ascendant

She is energetic and direct.

Jupiter represents expansion and grace.

Jupiter is in Gemini

She attracts the most good fortune when she uses her wit and ingeniousness, as well as when she is versatile, sociable, curious, and puts others at ease with friendliness and sincere curiosity. She values the intellect and sees opportunities to grow and succeed through intellectual, verbal, and written channels. She believes that intelligence and knowledge is the key to solving problems.

Jupiter in VII: Jupiter is in the seventh house

She has a good marriage or partnership, with a useful partner who helps to bring success if only by their advice. Good legal outcomes. Traditionally, this placement has been associated with benefits through marriage or partnership.

2 Trine between Jupiter - Lilith

She could meet a partner much wealthier than herself. Good sexual understanding.

Saturn represents contraction and effort.

Saturn is in Capricorn

She can be scrupulous, honest, correct, worthy, and respectable.

Potential weaknesses: melancholy, sullenness, disappointment, and bitterness.

Saturn in I: Saturn is in the first house

She can be self-conscious in new situations, especially when young. Her manner is rather cautious and guarded. First reactions to new ideas or plans are reticent and somewhat negative, but these are only first reactions. Can be methodical, patient, a bit distrustful or initially reluctant, quite polite. She may speak little at first and does not waste energy unnecessarily. She has a good memory and strong sense of organization, preferring to do things well. She is never slapdash and has a strong sense of responsibility.

100 Conjunction between Saturn - Uranus

She knows how to be on top of the situation. She perseveres, is determined but ingenious and original. She is very practical. She proceeds slowly, but is always bound to achieve her objectives in the end.

347 Conjunction between Saturn - Neptune

Her plans are realized in a methodical fashion. She works hard to achieve success.

143 Sextile between Saturn - Pluto

She perseveres, achieving her projects through hard work.

-6 Square between Saturn - Lilith

She may live with an older or more mature person. Whereas this will seem quite amazing at the beginning of their life together, she may end up frustrated with this person over time.

Uranus represents individual liberty, egoistic liberty.

Uranus in Capricorn

Can have some problems accessing her intuition, since common sense often dominates. A great battler. She has so much power that one thinks nothing can defeat her. Her mission in society and in the world can mean everything to her. May question traditions and can be very open to redefining the meaning of success and to changing up traditional approaches to career and status.

Uranus in I: Uranus is in the first house

She is above all independent and original. Sometimes blunt and irritable. Never allows herself be influenced. She does not tolerate any sort of setback. She is ready for adventure, even if it’s a bit risky.

Uranus in the first house alters the way an individual projects personal energies onto others. You are likely to seek, may demand, freedom in the way you present yourself to the world. Dressing simply but quirkily, you will have no problems in asserting yourself. You are not shy in letting everyone know where you stand on issues. In fact you take pride in presenting your unique perspective. “I am a simple soul with few wants and needs,” is what you tell yourself. All you can feel is an altruistic desire to change the world! Friends and relatives probably find you a trifle erratic. They know you to be good-hearted and genuine about your feelings. Your passions rise fast and you lose interest at the same rate.

40 Conjunction between Uranus - Neptune

She can be wildly creative with an odd but happy sense of humor and perspective. She is an idealist, easily disappointed by those using power plays to advance.

Neptune represents transcendental liberty, non-egoistic liberty.

Neptune is in Capricorn

She is discerning, wise, and sensible.

Neptune in I

She is intuitive, sensitive. Not a fighter and can be indecisive. Usually projects an image of softness. May have some identity problems until she decides on a more spiritual or artistic path. May be psychic or simply strongly intuitive. Gentle and yielding. Changeable appearance or image, particularly if Neptune is close to the Ascendant.

64 Sextile between Neptune - Pluto

She is perceptive and able to see layers to a situation. She is naturally drawn to learning what makes herself and others tick.

-3 Square between Neptune - Lilith

Love can dominate her life. She could lose her head over someone to whom there’s an intense attraction, which can become troublesome if she loses all idea of reality. If she is not loved in return, so what - she will love for the two of them. With time, if the bond loses its spark, she can have difficulty disentangling herself and she can suffer enormously. It’s best to look to a trusted outside source for guidance in vulnerable times.

Pluto represents transformations, mutations, and elimination.

Pluto is in Scorpio

Fear of betrayal. Sensual and passionate.

Black Moon Lilith represents our darker, deeper natures that may be repressed or buried.

Lilith in Libra

She may have felt uncomfortable or wrong for needing companionship or seeking approval from others. Or, she may feel that dependency and compromise are weak and not “right,” and this can lead to periods of intense neediness followed by independence. Accepting that we all need to lean on others from time to time can help resolve problems with extreme behaviors in relationships.

North Node-South Node The South Node represents our overdeveloped character traits. We are talented here but if we overdo this area of life or hold onto these traits to feel secure, we may stagnate. 

The North Node points to the qualities that we need to work on and develop to achieve inner balance and fulfillment.

True North Node in Aquarius

Her path is to learn to be more impartial and less possessive in relationships and with creative projects. As she learns to let go of the need for a passionate chase, satisfaction will come to her naturally as she sees that she nevertheless gets what she needs. Relationships may suffer if she takes things too personally and expects others to follow a script that she has unconsciously written for them. She learns to moderate her desire for drama and attention, and then develops true friendships. Qualities to develop: detachment, impartiality, humility.

North Node in II: North Node in the Second House

Her path relates to earning her own way and making firm executive decisions. Although she readily falls back on supportive relationships, and she is good at handling others’ resources and encouraging them to be the best they can be, she needs to learn to depend on herself and to apply these same lessons to her own life so that intimate relationships and health improve many times over. She should remember that drama does not equal love. She should not allow intense emotions and relationships to disrupt her practical life. Learning when not to share can be rewarding, too! Qualities to develop: simplicity, patience, self-reliance, self-sufficiency.

The Houses

House I is the area of self identity. The ascendant is a symbol of how one acts in life. It is the image of the personality as seen by others, and the attitude that one has towards life.

Cancer with ascendant Sagittarius

Ascendant is Sagittarius

The world is filled with adventure, new things to experience, and, most of all, hope, with this Ascendant. There is an unmistakable faith and enthusiasm with Sagittarius rising people. Grand schemes, big promises, and a willingness to explore and experiment are themes, although follow-through is not a strong characteristic of Sagittarius. These individuals are somewhat restless and often active people. They always seem to be looking for something that is just out of grasp – and many do this their entire lives. They can be quite direct at times, yet they are likable enough to forgive for their faux-pas. Most have a lot to say and offer. Their insights and opinions are usually interesting and exciting, although sometimes lacking in details.

Sagittarius rising people have opinions about everything, and they just love telling others exactly what they are. Not all people with this position are outgoing folk, but they all have a way of moving about that at least exudes a certain level of confidence. Some might even call them naive or overly optimistic. Even the quiet ones don’t shrink from life and from experience. One of the most obvious and endearing traits of Sagittarius rising is their willingness to keep up a sense of humor. Even when they’re feeling low, they manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever they do have. The placement of Sagittarius’ ruling planet, Jupiter, will give more clues to how they go about expressing themselves. Jupiter in Capricorn, for example, might give a more sarcastic approach, but underneath there lies an unmistakable hope and spirit for living.

House II - the second house - is the area of material security and values. It rules money and personal finances, sense of self-worth and basic values, personal possessions.

Capricorn on House II

A cautious approach to money and personal finances, possessions. Financial success may be slow but steady. A hard worker. Savings are important. Patience with accumulating. Money situation improves with maturity.

House III - the third house - is the area of social and intellectual learning.

Pisces on House III

Ideas are somewhat changeable, and her humor as well. Travel, sea voyages or work connected with the sea.

House IV - the fourth house - is the area of home, family, roots, and deep emotions/sense of self-worth.

Aries on House IV

Lots of authority within the family. She knows how to take the destiny of the family in hand, to take charge. She is very energetic, very strong, knowing how to cope with life’s setbacks.

House V - the fifth house - is the area of creative self-expression, romance, entertainment, children, and gambling.

Taurus on House V

A pleasant home, a charming partner, loving and sweet children, nice little meals, pleasant evenings with the loved one – the good life.

House VI - the sixth house - is the area of learning by material transaction.

Taurus on House VI

Completely trusted at work. She knows how to keep a secret and can be of irreproachable honesty. Weak point: the throat.

House VII - the seventh house - is the area of one-to-one relationships such as marriage and partnership, and of social and intellectual action.

Gemini on House VII

Can marry or partner quite young. A second partnership may have less passion but a lot of friendship. Can be frightened of living alone in old age. She may prefer others do the talking much of the time.

House VIII - the eighth house - is the area of emotional security and of security of the soul.

Cancer on House VIII

Small inheritances possible. She usually plans well for old age.

House IX - the ninth house - is the area of learning that shapes the identity.

Virgo on House IX

She is devoted to all causes that bring comfort or help to people in difficulty.

House X - the tenth house - is the area of material action. The Midheaven represents the work one will do in one’s life, the place one will take in the world of society. It becomes more important as one grows older.

Libra on House X

Contacts of all kinds will lead to social success, professional, through marriage, etc. She likes society life, friendships that could help professionally. Sometimes jobs connected with justice, but frequently involved with important and influential people.

House XI - the eleventh house - is the area of search for social and intellectual security.

Scorpio on House XI

She likes to debate endlessly with friends who don’t share her ideas. The discussion can lead to words or even verbal sparring.

House XII - the twelfth house - is the area of education and of emotion. This is where we meet our karma, deal with endings, and sometimes where we bury things.

Scorpio on House XII

Investigative work or inclination. She likes investigating other people’s private lives.

Birth Chart: here  

Using London, England, I don’t know where she was born.

Thanks for the ASK!

[alexboehm55144]

Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex, Chapter 12 - A Well Deserved Break

Another chapter for you guys today! I've been thinking about getting more art done for this story, but I have it on good authority that my words paint the perfect picture! This chapter actually had me really nervous as I went over it, but hopefully, it's good! Let me know what you guys think, and let's get right into this slower paced chapter!

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North Korea had been defeated, their leadership killed, and their nuclear weapons captured. But the war was far from over. US troops had pushed far into the country, almost right to China's doorstep. But the Chinese had anticipated this and had heavily upgraded the defenses on their border with the country, constructing the most powerful fortifications in existence. It would be hell to push through, but when the time came US forces would break through those defenses. A staging area right at China's door was a major victory so early in the war, but the country was still fit to fight. Chinese ships and troops were all over the Pacific, and they could still strike almost anywhere.

However, right now, Heroes was taking a break after striking such a savage blow for China. The typhoon had landed near Mt Fuji, and Alex and JayJay were sitting in chairs out on the deck of the ship, watching the sunset over the mountain. The two ate Japanese cuisine and drank tea from a local shop as they watched the beautiful colors in the sky.

"I've always wanted to visit Japan," JayJay said between bites "such a beautiful country"

"Very advanced too." Alex responded, munching on a chopstick full of sushi rice "and not just technology wise, they have all sorts of cool little gizmos and tricks around the country"

"What do you mean?"

"Like a lot of Japanese toilets have a sink built into the top. So the water that you use to wash your hands can then be used to flush the toilet"

"Oh, that's environmentally friendly"

"It's those cool little tricks that I really enjoy" Alex sipped some tea "and as you can clearly see, the beauty of the country is astounding.

"Such a beautiful sunset, can you take a picture of me with it?"

The wolf handed Alex her phone and struck a pose a few feet away.

"Oh, it's prettier now" Alex joked, lining up the shot, prompting the wolf to chuckle and blush slightly as the captain took a couple of pictures.

"Hopefully these are good"

JayJay looked through the pictures before thanking her friend.

"I'm glad to finally get a break"

"Same, I couldn't handle endless combat"

"Here's to a job well done in Korea," Alex said, holding up his teacup, prompting JayJay to clink her own cup against his. "We eliminated a rogue state that has been a problem for decades, struck a decisive blow against the enemy, and freed so many people"

"I feel great, knowing that I had a hand in helping all those people"

"Based on reports, we're taking in and caring for a lot of North Korean citizens that have been imprisoned and mistreated"

"Alex, remember how I was depressed when the Chinese blew up that aircraft carrier in Guam? You were right, I just had to keep going. And now, I've been able to make an amazing difference in the world. I couldn't have done it without you"

"We'll be doing a lot more for people once we make a move on China. The country has done a lot of bad things, oppression of many certain groups, censoring large parts of media, the list goes on. It will be another major accomplishment to help those people as well"

"You know I'm ready to assist you anytime, anywhere"

"Also give yourself more credit, it's not just me doing all this work. Your holding your own on the battlefield, and your a great and talented individual to have on this team"

"Thank you, that means a lot," the wolf said, putting her hand on Alex's shoulder.

The captain gently squeezed her hand. "I'm glad to hear you feel better"

000

Nick, Judy, Jack, and Skye spent a lot of time together, watching movies, performing daily tasks, or just chatting. Today was different though, as Skye and Judy were in the shooting range keeping their skills sharp for the next combat situation. Nick and Jack were off doing something else, with Judy suspecting it would involve pawpsicles. Toothdee headed down to the range to test her skills and revived a warm greeting from the 2 mammals already there.

What made this shooting range advanced was its holographic targets, which removed the need for actual physical targets that would degrade over time. Also, it allowed for easy customization of training programs.

"So how do you guys know each other?" Toothdee asked, selecting a training program and checking her rifle.

"Well, Nick and Jack were friends as kits" Judy explained, shooting a target down range with her tranquilizer pistol "then later on the 4 of us started working together as part of an effort to establish a link between the ZPD & ZIA. That's how we all got acquainted."

"And since then we've been inseparable," Skye said, finishing her friend's sentence.

"I'm glad to have ZIA & ZPD operatives on this team, it promotes better connectivity," Toothdee said, engaging some targets downrange. "Is it just me or does Alex seem more distant lately?"

"What do you mean?" Judy asked.

"I can't put my finger on it, but he seems different with regards to our counterparts. Like something about them changed him. He's almost like... more aggressive, more ruthless. And between you guys and me, I'm worried about how we have evil versions of ourselves killing people out there"

"He seems fine to me, but I wouldn't know," Skye said "but it's possible that he's in a way upset that there's a dark version of him, after all, you just said you were worried about the same thing"

"Yeah, I am, but..." she trailed off, unable to put what she was thinking into words, leaving Skye and Judy wondering what was gonna come next. "...maybe I'm just overreacting. But I think it would be important to make sure we stay warriors for peace and justice and don't become the dark villains we hope to destroy."

The rabbit and fox nodded in agreement.

"Now then, how about a friendly competition?" Toothdee asked, pressing a few buttons on the console to link Judy's firing lane, Skye's lane, and her own. Point indicators appeared above the lanes of all 3 heroes, who raised their weapons as the timer counted down.

3... 2... 1...

000

Haida and Retsuko had left the typhoon and were visiting their home city of Tokyo. Kion and Jasiri had also come along, wanting to see the sights, and figuring there were no better guides than people who actually lived in the city.

The hyena and red panda had shown the couple all sorts of interesting areas around the city, such as a local art museum, and a scenic walk with cherry blossom trees. Kion described the walk as romantic, with the other mammals agreeing. As such, the 2 couples had spent almost half an hour making out, before they decided to leave after receiving some weird looks.

The group had also visited the Tokyo sky tree, which was a massive tower with a stunning view from the observation deck. Jasiri had spent a little too much money on the metal viewing scopes implanted in the deck. However she did manage to catch some good views of , and Retsuko had directed the hyena to view her apartment. She had even taken a look at the typhoon, spotting Alex and JayJay sitting outside on the ship's deck.

Tokyo was a city with less of a human presence than other locations. It wasn't out of the ordinary to see non-humans across the planet, but humans did greatly outnumber other sentient species on earth. Tokyo reminded Kion & Jasiri of their home city of Zootopia, one of many places where it was rare to see humans. It almost felt like a metropolis they knew & loved.

Now, as the day was ending and night was falling, the city's lights became alive, transforming Tokyo into a display of color. A light drizzle of rain poured down from the sky as Retsuko lead the group to a karaoke bar, a place that she and Haida knew all too well. Entering the building, an attendant lead them to a room Retsuko requested, before taking an order for food and drinks.

Retsuko and Haida got something with alcohol in it, while Kion and Jasiri opted for tea.

"Come on Kion, sing something" Jasiri encouraged, trying to get her lion to sing something. "They have songs in English"

"Oh, I can't sing," Kion said, scrolling through the songs on a tablet, and thinking he would die from embarrassment if he tried singing. "Retsuko, why don't you try something?"

He handed the microphone to the red panda, who then typed '9091-89' in on the tablet.

She took a deep breath as the music began to build, before screaming out as loud as she could into the mic.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Kion and Jasiri covered their ears, while Haida just stared wide-eyed at the red panda. Kion worried that the glasses with their drinks would shatter. Jasiri tried to say something to her mate, but the lion could only see her lips moving.

Meanwhile, Haida just continued to watch his red panda as she belted out frustration in her favorite song.

000

While Heroes was taking a well-deserved break after their victory in North Korea, their counterparts had done something much sinister. They had just eliminated one of the powerful individuals who had afforded them their prominent positions in the Chinese military, meaning now they were sovereign figures. They no longer had to listen to the plans and demands of the meterex leader who had found them, and the person they had just killed.

The battle wasn't even that tough, they severely outnumbered their enemy, who was in a weakened state. It was almost too easy filling him with holes and driving swords through his body. Now they were heading back to their ship, where they could plan the next phase of their operations.

"What kind of name is 'Dark Oak?'" Toothdee's counterpart laughed, her comment almost a way of spitting on the grave of the meterex they had slaughtered a few minutes prior.

"You mean what kind of name was 'Dark Oak" Alex's counterpart said, "he and his meterex failed to conquer this world once before, but we will succeed where they failed."

"You know I have to say that's a nice addition to your arsenal," Dark Eris said, pointing to Alex's wrist.

"Thank you," the dark warrior said, looking at his wrist, which was clad in a black gauntlet with an integrated grappling hook. The hook allowed him to pull enemies or objects in from afar, quickly bringing them within striking distance. It was also capable of pulling panels off walls and tearing apart objects.

Arriving back at the Black Typhoon, the group made their way into the command room after stashing their weapons in the armory.

"Toothdee, get me a status report," Dark Alex said, to which his friend obliged, lighting the room up with screens displaying information.

"North Korea is lost." Dark Toothdee said, looking over some screens "but this is only a small victory for the United States."

"Are our tactics working?"

"Yes, with no real front line, and no defined separation of territory, we will keep the US on their toes. Guessing where we're gonna attack next, and eventually wearing them down. We are still able to get our troops to most positions in the Pacific, and strike at places the United States won't expect."

"However we do have to acknowledge that they are on our doorstep now, are our defenses ready?"

"Our defenses are ready to hold back any assault, and reports suggest the US won't attack won't attack. In fact, bombing campaigns and ground-based incursions have led them to pull back somewhat, meaning a large area of North Korea is without a military presence. And the US has taken in many civilians, meaning there are fewer people in general."

"Perfect looks like they failed at establishing a beachhead close too China, but we should still be on guard for attacks from North Korea. However, it's time to strike back at the United States. Laval, is your fleet ready?"

The lion stepped forward and spoke. "Yes, the new vessels have been seamlessly integrated into our battle formations, we're ready to get back out there."

"Kion? Are your teams ready?"

The other lion began his explanation "Our gear is ready & the plan is set, all that's left is to put it into action"

"Brilliant, I say we couldn't have picked a better time for a war" Dark Alex said "the political, economic, and military climate was perfect"

"Tensions have been growing between the nations for a while now, it was obviously going to erupt in war," Dark Toothdee said, swiping through some data pages on a tablet. "Growing tension as China expands is territory & grows its military. Not to mention the US leading more towards a policy of isolationism, as China strives forward in terms of its economy, & its environmental protection efforts."

The dark warrior paused & looked out a nearby window as he collected his thoughts.

“The time when the United States is the world's dominant power is at an end. A new era is emerging. You have your orders, go forth and enact our will!"

The dark characters filed out of the room, ready to enforce their machinations upon the United States & Heroes.

"Let's show the world what we can really do."

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Hopefully, everyone liked that forboding scene at the end! A nice peek into the mind of the enemy. This update was a pain to post for some reason as well. But this was a nice, slower paced chapter, but next time there will be more action for all you thrill seekers! Please leave a review and have a great day!

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, ROGUE! You’ve been accepted for the role of ORSINO with an approved FC change to FRANCOIS ARNAUD. Admin Jen: There is an edge of decadent madness to your vision of Orion and from the moment I noted it as I was reading, my heart was immediately captured by the princely wild card that you’ve presented to us. Words truly fail to describe how gripping he is - from his dangerous boredom to his unique brand of cunning. I was as unnerved by him as I was in awe of him and I think that on its own is a testament to the impact of your wonderful vision, Rogue. I can’t wait to watch as he brings utter ruin to Verona! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Rogue.

Age | 22.

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her.

Activity Level | A font of words here, mostly.

Timezone | PST.

In Character

Character | That Bitch Orsino. Can I get Francois Arnaud? I wanna look like the messiest hottest man alive thank you.

What drew you to this character? | What I really wanted was a Capulet, because there’s a whole side of Verona I haven’t explored, and I’m a nosy bitch, so it started there. After going through the open characters, Orion really stuck with me, because I don’t have a character who exhibits true villainy the way he does. I have two characters full of ambition, and Orion has none, which in my mind makes him far more dangerous. His wants are kaleidoscopic, and the selfish whims he exhibits are so juicy and rich. I want to play in this playground all day and night. He’s the true definition of chaotic neutral; he isn’t always cruel because that’s boring, and it doesn’t always serve him. He isn’t kind because that would never serve him. Each moment is a choice, a flight of fancy, a way to have fun, and the level of unpredictability is delightful and sinful as hell.

What is a future plot ideas you have in mind for the character? | ✘ — I would like to play with Orion growing bored. Increasingly challenging Cosimo to give him something more exciting to play with, and either getting what he wants or growing tired of it enough to say, lay the groundwork for chaos. Whether that means slipping secrets to the media, trying to seduce and kill a Montague, or even fucking around a Capulet, Orion makes things entertaining for himself. He doesn’t care what the sides are so long as he gets fed.

✘ — One of Orion’s defining traits is that he’s unwilling to lie. He does terrible things, of course he does, but asked point blank and he’ll tell you: ❝ Darling, did you expect anything less ? How charmingly quaint. ❞ He’ll take his lashes with a smile and scream as much as you ask him to, so to speak. What I really want is for him to find someone he’d lie for. Someone or something he cares more about than his own self-image. Maybe that’s impossible, but I’d like to think it isn’t, if only because everyone needs to be knocked on their ass. Someone he so enjoys corrupting he’d rather have them to himself, perhaps. Maybe someone so depraved and wicked they delight him and fascinate him endlessly. Either way, the first moment his tongue spills tales for him, he knows he’s in too deep, ferociously attempting to claw his way out. Do they let him?  

✘ — I don’t know that Orion experiences true loyalty, but he does have a possessive quality to him, and in that way, he cares for people. He has no qualms betraying them if it gets him what he wants, but them betraying him? That is akin to blasphemy. I would, therefore, like to plot that out with someone. Betray him! Betray him! Honestly, though, what he would do is the height of despicable, and that’s peak favorite Orion for me.

✘ — Now for the other side of the above coin. The people he calls “friends” are his belongings, the toys he plays with. In the same breath, I do think that he has that sort of wild mentality: no one breaks my toys but me. He is just as monstrous to those who hurt them as he is to them when he grows bored, because the ownership he feels is absolute. So I’d also love to have him go after someone for hurting someone close to him. When they laugh at how soft he’s become, he only ever has one response: ❝ They were mine to ruin, and I am not kind to thieves. ❞

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I’m fine with dying or fine with living. I do imagine how funny it would look if Orion is last man standing, just smoking and watch the city burn, but he deserves death really and should get it.

In Depth

❃ — What is your favorite place in Verona? He’s been forced to attend this silly little survey, and any time anyone forces him anywhere, it doesn’t bode well. Orion props his feet up on the coffee table, scuffing the glass as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket. He lights it, leaning back into the couch and really getting comfortable. There is no indication that he heard the question. After a prolonged and uncomfortable silence in which Orion smokes and occasionally trails ash across the table, ignoring the ashtray sitting off to the side, Cosimo’s little secretary opens her mouth to ask again.

Orion lets her get out half a syllable before cutting in, mostly because he was in the middle of blowing smoke in her direction. ❝ Starting out soft. Is that Cosimo’s style, now ? ❞ When the girl doesn’t answer, Orion rolls his eyes. ❝ Pick your favorite place in Verona and write that down. ❞ When she doesn’t move, he stills, gaze kept on her face until she makes eye contact almost by mistake. Whatever she sees there causes her to bend her head and write, and he smiles. ❝ Good girl. ❞

❃ — What does your typical day look like? Now this is juicy. He imagines the answers the other simpering idiots he works with gave, trying to figure out how Cosimo stands to read the drivel. This is a game, of course, that they play every so often. Flat, boring questions that belie dangerous intent. If the answers don’t match what’s on file, you get in trouble. If they match too closely, you must be reading a script.

❝ A typical day ? ❞ he asks, mockery infusing every syllable. ❝ I make things happen. ❞ He clouds the space between them with smoke again, watching with a small kick of relish as she waves her hand through it, trying to dispel a little. Cosimo knows he’s an art dealer, and he certainly doesn’t want to hear about his day job, so Orion doesn’t waste his breath on it. ❝ I get whatever’s necessary out of the way, find someone to fuck, bother my superiors, and crash. ❞ His eyes flick toward the paper where she’s meant to be taking notes. ❝ Be sure to quote me directly, piccolina. If you censor me, he’ll know, and we’ll both be very disappointed. ❞      

❃ — What has been your biggest mistake so far? Orion throws his head back with a laugh and it sounds impossibly indulgent, richly decadent — it’s a sound that makes someone want to know the joke just so they can join, so they can feel included when it sounds so terribly exclusive. The look he gives her positively oozes confidence. ❝ I wonder how many of them cried to you about their sad little histories, ❞ he muses, shaking his head. ❝ Diciamo pane al pane e vino al vino. I don’t make mistakes, and I don’t regret a thing. ❞

❃ — What has been the most difficult task asked of you? ❝ Bella, bella, ❞ he says, shaking his head in chastisement. He knows she has no option but to throw these questions at him, but Orion enjoys making her squirm, anyway. It’s more fun to see fear and longing in her eyes than to admit he’s stringing her along. ❝ You should know the answer by now. ❞ He waits, eyes bright through the dim haze of smoke he’s permeated the room with. He wonders if she wants to open the window, but is too afraid to move — he has her pinned like a butterfly beneath his gaze. After a moment, hetsks under his breath, taking another drag. ❝ No one asks me for anything difficult. That’s the problem. A challenge ? Now that would shock me. ❞

❃ — What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and Montagues? This question is new. It must be because the war is ramping up in truth, no longer played out in the shadows but firmly thrust into the light. He pretends to consider it, trying to think of what will most shock or horrify her. ❝ My thoughts ? I like seeing them bleed, ❞ he says, ❝ and I like best when they beg me for it. ❞ He deliberately doesn’t name the Montagues entirely, letting her believe and write what she wants. In truth, it doesn’t matter to him in the least, beyond the money Cosimo’s paying to keep him on retainer.

Most of them aren’t real, anyway. They’re too small, too ill-conceived and weak, running around worried about things like loyalty and fear. He’d rather be dead than what they are, two colors of ants in two hills, scurrying around and taking on more weight than they can bear. He might leave the whole city behind, if they weren’t so fun to play with, burning under his magnifying glass until there’s nothing left.

[raendown]

@bouncyirwin still working my way through a bunch or requests and of course I did not forget yours! ^^

Pairing: ShikamaruSakura Word count: 1295 Summary: If only young Shikamaru had known how sappy and content he would grow up to be.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

The Best Kind Of Afternoon (Lazy Of Course)

“You are incredibly troublesome and it’s indescribably unfair how cute you are.” Shikamaru blinked slowly, his mouth turned down in a half-hearted scowl. “You get that from your mother, of course. Both of those things.”

Babbling and very seriously attempting to fit one entire foot in his mouth, Shikaten didn’t respond to his father’s words in the slightest. Not that he could have even if he were paying attention. At only six months old he hadn’t quite learned to speak yet, although he did show signs of possibly saying his first word early as was typical of children from the Nara line. It helped as well that his mom was pretty smart herself.

Despite his baby’s genius and the overwhelming adorability of his pudgy little face, Shikamaru just wasn’t in the mood for changing diapers at the moment. Seeing as there wasn’t anyone else here to take the task from him, however, he heaved a deep sigh and headed for the changing table. Tomorrow, he vowed, he would do his utmost to convince one of his aunts that they wanted to babysit for a few hours. Just around noon when little Shikaten took what was usually his biggest poop of the day.

Mercifully, today’s wasn’t too bad and soon enough they were both all cleaned up and heading back to the couch where Shikamaru had left his book. Reading wasn’t really his favorite pastime, but then, he hadn’t actually been reading. In truth he’d been using it to drape over his face and keep the light out as he napped with baby Shikaten stretched peacefully atop his chest. Now that the little one had woken up though there would likely be no getting back to sleep for either of them. Once Shikaten was up he was usually up for good.

Plopping the both of them down on the couch, Shikamaru retrieved his book and very gently bopped his son on the top of the head with it.

“What a bother,” he grumbled. “I was hoping we could nap all afternoon until your mommy got home.”

Shikaten gurgled and waved an arm in his direction, trying to reach for the book.

“No you can’t have this, you’ll drool all over it.”

His arm waved more insistently, paired with a very serious string of babbling baby talk. Shikamaru grinned.

“Oh? You don’t say? And then what happened?”

Shikaten gave him a terribly unimpressed look and fluttered both feet. Losing interest in the book which was apparently unavailable to entertain him, he reached instead for a handful of his father’s shirt, stuffing it in his mouth and sucking enthusiastically on the rough cotton. With a shake of his head, Shikamaru just let him do as he pleased.

“That’s gross,” he informed the boy in his lap. “Hope it tastes better than it looks like it does.”

All he received as an answer was the wet sound of a baby gumming on his clothing. He hadn’t lied, it was indeed kind of gross, but it was also stupidly cute and he couldn’t seem to make himself look away. This happened to him all the time, unfortunately. Shikaten would be doing the strangest things and Shikamaru would find himself staring openly, sappy thoughts filling his mind as he wondered how in the world he had gotten so lucky.

When he was smaller Shikamaru had watched his parents and wondered if that was going to be his life when he grew up. Young and naïve, he had taken so many things at face value and never looked past the bickering over breakfast, the nagging to come home earlier. Now that he had a family himself he could understand what his parents had been saying between the lines. He and his wife bickered over breakfast all the time, teasing each other about perceived flaws as a roundabout way to give the other a compliment. When his partner ‘nagged’ him to come home early he knew it was because she wanted their family to spend time together or perhaps she might have some kind of surprise set up for him.

Though, admittedly, it wasn’t often that he needed to be asked to hurry home. Everyone in the village knew that he was a lazy man and there was no place he would rather laze around than at home with his precious son. No matter how gross it was when Shikaten started sucking on various bits of his clothing.

He looked up when he heard the sound of the front door opening and a tired voice called out to them both. Even Shikaten turned his head, dropping the shirt in his mouth to let loose a stream of excited squeals. Quiet laughter responded before a drooping figure came around the corner and headed towards them with heavy, dragging footsteps.

“Wow,” Shikamaru said. “Looks like they ran you ragged today.”

“Why did you let me agree to this?” Sakura asked him, flopping down next to them on the couch and reaching over to pinch their son’s cheeks. The little one gurgled and squirmed about until he was allowed to crawl over on to his mother’s lap.

“If I recall correctly, the idea was yours in the first place.”

“A stupid idea,” she snorted. “You’re supposed to be a genius; why didn’t you tell me I was being dumb?”

Shikamaru laughed. “There are some mistakes that people need to figure out for themselves.”

His wife made a rude noise and turned her attention to the baby. “Mommy missed you while she was training her genin team. Yes she did. Yes she did! And she’s going to dig a nice big hole where we can all hide in so they can’t find her for tomorrow’s training. Yes she is!”

With a shaking head Shikamaru leaned over to buss the both of them on the cheeks. Then he stood from the couch and meandered his way in to the kitchen, steps lazy and hands in his pockets.

“It’s troublesome but I suppose I can get dinner started. You look like if you tried to cook you’d fall asleep over top of the stove and boil your own head.” He paused to think for a moment. “Actually, that doesn’t sound too different than usual.”

“Oh go stuff your head!” The offended shriek that left Sakura’s throat was oddly strangled as she tried to yell at him without being too loud for the baby sitting on her knees. Hurrying in to the kitchen, her husband wisely smothered his laughter as he set about pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

Moments like these he truly wished he could step back in time and speak to his younger self, to head off those early years when he had crushed hard on Temari and the even earlier years when he’d thought he would grow up to marry Ino. He wanted to step in and slap the eye roll right off his own face every time he sighed at any signs of affection between his parents. If he had only known back then how happy he would grow up to be, the utter contentment that would fill his every day, his attitude would have been wildly different.

Yet that was impossible, he knew. A lazy cloud watcher he might be but Shikamaru had never been the type to lose himself in pointless daydreams. So instead of wondering about a past that he couldn’t change, instead he chose to cock an ear and shamelessly eavesdrop as Sakura regaled their baby with an extremely exaggerated and censored version of how her day had gone, punctuated by many tickle breaks.

His family might be troublesome but they made him happy and there was nowhere else on earth he would rather be than here at home with them.

[rhetoricandlogic]

The Librarian turned his eyes upon me, reversed the single sheet of paper once, then neatly back again.

“An excellent candidate,” he said.

And:

“Thomas Hardy. An apropos name. We have one of his, you know? No relation, I assume?”

And:

“‘Favourite grammatical form: passive voice.’” He looked me up and down, pinprick eyes narrowed, and licked his dry bottom lip. “Marvellous.”

“Sir?” I said.

The Librarian’s tongue flickered. “So wonderfully uninterested. Most boys, well they come here with their nasty adverbs and their present tense, or, God forbid, second person.” When he shuddered his spine cracked like an old hardback opened in one swift, cruel motion. “Quite unsuitable. You on the other hand…”

And, after some deliberation:

“Very well. The job is yours, young Thomas.”

“Tom,” I said and swallowed with relief that he hadn’t asked me why I wanted to work for the Library. I’d prepared a response, but I doubted it would impress. The Librarian’s eyes were sharp and astute, shadowed in the hollows beneath a foxed brow. He would have picked apart my half-truths, separating non-fiction from fiction and, suspicious, sniffed around the superlative adjectives.

“Come along.” He unfolded his eight-foot frame from the armchair. A stick insect stretching. He led me out of his office, down a long hall which echoed our footsteps, and to a set of ornate double doors. “Through here,” he said, “is the main hall of the Library. You must always treat this place with the utmost respect. We serve a greater good. Stay long and you will know this.”

He guided me through the doors. On the other side, bookshelves reached the horizon.

The Librarian bent close to my ear. He reeked like damp second-hand bookshops, or comic books left to moulder in the bottom of a wardrobe. “How would you describe it, Tom?”

I was still being tested. The interview was not truly over. Perhaps it never would be.

I looked from one behemoth shelf to the next: it was a graveyard of spines, leather, paper, string, the wormed carcasses of all those books, buried next to each other one after another into the dark. The feeling of disintegrated sentences hung in the air, a deadness of language, like a word abandoned mid-syllable.

“It’s impressive,” I said.

“Impressive.” The Librarian outstretched his arms to the expectant hall. “It takes you three syllables to encompass all this?”

I had been memorizing Roget’s 1911. “Large,” I said.

He chuckled. “Better to be faced with an eternity of literature and render it down to one uttered word, one brief sound. ‘Large’—I think you’ll be perfect.”

From beneath a shelf of peeling grimoires, scratchy muttered sounds could be heard. At first I interpreted them as squeaks, then realized instead that they were voices. Words, I realized. “Stripling! Gangrel! Pilgarlic!” A scurry of grey tiny shapes crossed our path and disappeared among the nearest bookshelf.

“Ignore the rats,” the Librarian said. “So bothersome. I try to keep them away from the books, but they over-run the place. They have a particular taste for the folios. I suppose it’s only natural they’ve picked up some words. But such bothersome words.” He licked a spindly forefinger and thumbed his lapel as if he could turn the page of his suit. “To work then, my unremarkable boy.”

He led me through the stacks, past row upon row of books. Some were bound in leather, some gaudy, some decrepit, some little more than stapled paper, and some emanating a faint electric glow. Skittering around in the shadows, the rats could be heard in our wake: “Jackanape! Welkin!”

“Voila!” said the Librarian. “The Index.”

Like a still pool in a forest, the library had given way to clear empty space containing a circle of doors, freestanding and unsupported, each unadorned apart from a single round window at head height. Narrow bookcases stood attendant by each, laid out like spokes within the wheel of doors.

“Observe.” The Librarian plucked the first volume waiting on one of the bookcase-spokes. It was gently smoking; the Librarian carefully patted out its glowing embers. He inspected both of its covers. “Sonnenfinsternis by Arthur Koestler. You do know German? I’ve been waiting for this one. File this under Wartime Casualties.”

And:

A sandy pile of barely bound papers. “The Visions of Iddo the Seer—fascinating. File under Myriad Apocrypha.”

And:

A sheaf of laser-printed paper. “Untitled Novel About a Boy with No Hands (Incomplete) by S. Berman. That’s one for the Self-Doubt section—half a novel deleted in a crisis of confidence, if I’m not mistaken.” He coughed. No, it was a laugh. “I’m never mistaken.”

And:

A threadbare exercise book missing one of its staples. “The Collected Works of the Poet Jeremiah Blenkinsop, Aged 13-and-Three-Quarters. Much as I regret that we must collect such ephemeral dross: file under Adolescent Verse. Do I make the task at hand clear? Take the volume, examine its cover, file in the appropriate section.”

I nodded.

“Under no circumstances do you open the book. Is that clear?”

When I was late in responding, he peered at me. “You are not a curious boy are you? I insist on no aspirations, no predilections. Books are not to be read.”

“I haven’t read a word since my GCSEs, sir.”

He smiled. I suppressed a shudder. His teeth were spotted, like the acid foxing on old paper.

In the round window of the door directly behind the Librarian, a face appeared. It was a wide, flat face, that of a rag doll’s, or a scarecrow’s—the look emphasized further by thick stitches that shut his eyes. The door opened to admit the lumpish creature. Behind it, I saw a vista: not the Library stretching away but a courtyard at night. A mound of books burned and the silhouettes of men watched from below scarlet flags. At the sound of a bugle, each figure raised their right arm high in salute.

The Librarian noted how I stared. “1943 Common Era,” he said in a grave tone. “So many books lost forever. We were understaffed—had been since the Great Pandemic.”

The rag-doll creature unloaded an armful of still-smoldering books onto the case before turning back to the door. The Librarian stopped it. “This is a Collector,” he said, then added, squinting at the nametag sewed on his chest, “Gadzooks.”

“Why are his eyes sewn shut?”

The Librarian scowled. “That’s only a metaphor.” He squinted at me. “You know…symbolic? Not real?” He sighed and bent an arm around my shoulder. “Gadzooks, this is Thomas Hardy. Passive voice, mind you. He’s our new Indexer.”

Gadzooks bowed his head.

“I trust you’ll show him the ropes,” said the Librarian, “and then to his chambers at the end of the day.” He picked up the next book on the shelf. “Misguided Pornography,” he said, then placed it into my hands and shuffled away.

So:

I worked, for an indeterminate number of hours, filing away the books as they were deposited on the stands for my inspection. I saw many more Collectors, barging in and out of their respective doors, carrying armfuls of books; through the frames, I caught glimpses of a multitude of places—a sun-baked Jerusalem, a Scottish highland under water, the underwear-strewn floor of a teenager’s bedroom. 1943 remained where it was even as the others changed; clearly there was much work to be done there. Gadzooks lumbered around gloomily beside me, pointing in the right direction for each department: “Censored Tracts? By the fountain. Suicide? Fourth on your left. Hard Drive Failure? Up the ladders by Rejected First Novels.” His gentle voice belied his maimed face.

Occasionally on my journeys I would spy the rats. One might dash close and spit out a forgotten word at me—“Nidgery! Borborygmus!”—then skitter away back beneath the stacks. Gadzooks grunted and chased them away. “They seem to like you,” he said.

And then:

The day closed, Collectors unloaded their last piles and vanished. All but Gadzooks, who gestured for me to follow him. I did so, because I was a curious boy, and let him lead me into the deep warren of the Library. We arrived at a rickety spiral staircase at the back of Reformation Sermons. The small room at the top was drafty and sparsely furnished, nothing much more than an unmade bed and a little writing table.

“Your room,” said Gadzooks.

I thanked him, expecting him to leave. Instead he hovered in the doorway, wringing his massive and scarred hands.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Sometimes at night, we—well, I wondered if you might like to come…to a party?”

And then:

A trio of Collectors recited couplets from Love’s Labour’s Won, regaling each other with smutty double entendres. In another corner, a gaggle of Collectors pored over Byron’s diaries, pausing frequently to ooh and ahh. Another group gathered in armchairs, pouring absinthe over sugar cubes into their glasses, and repeating lines to each other from Rimbaud’s La Chasse Spirituelle. “Welcome to the Speakeasy.” Gadzooks moved with a bit of mirth.

He led me to the bar, introducing me to those we passed on the way, a series of names—Tango, Philtrum, Esperanza, Pushkin—that I immediately failed to correctly attribute to their proper owners. “This is Tom, the new Indexer,” he said, and they all earnestly shook my hand and recited couplets for me by way of introduction.

“Whiskey,” said Gadzooks at the bar. “You do drink whiskey?”

I felt bold. “Naturally.” A glass was pressed into my hand.

Perched on a bar stool atop a table, there was another boy, who looked older than me because of his long silvery hair. He played an elegant tune on the violin. “From the Library of Music across the Silent Canyon.” Gadzooks caught me looking, and perhaps mistook the expression on my face. “They sneak across when the Librarian isn’t looking. That tune he’s playing—Mozart and Salieri’s Per la Ricuperata Salute di Ophelia. One of their prize possessions.” But I wasn’t thinking of a boy from the halls of lost music; instead, I was remembering a boy from a place far more ordinary and humdrum, though his fingers were no less nimble on the strings.

Still—he was a long way away, and I was here, in the Library, and that was the price I had paid.

They refilled my glass a second, then a third time, and I gladly accepted.

The door burst open and two Collectors entered, flanking a man covered entirely by a threadbare blanket. The door safely closed behind him, he threw off his covering, and spread his arms; he was greeted with a cheer. At first glance he appeared emaciated, almost consumptive, resembling a child’s pipe-cleaner puppet, but he had a flamboyant assertiveness that belied the wispiness of his physical presence. “Ladies and gentlethings, I am here! Quite enough of the sad songs, don’t you think?”

The musician switched to a guitar and launched into a rendition of David Bowie’s “Jean Genie,” though this version of the lyrics weren’t those Tom remembered; a lost version, he supposed, like everything else here. The song seemed to prompt a sea-change in the party; a Collector with beautiful silver stitching climbed up beside him and swayed her hips, the bartender began acrobatically tossing bottles, the patrons starting to turn around the dancefloor with a newly giddy energy.

“That’s more like it,” said the man, sauntering to the bar. “And, why hello to you! Gadzooks, who might this handsome fellow be?”

“Tom—the new Indexer,” said Gadzooks.

Although I had known the man was referring to me, I feigned surprised.

“A shame—one must never fall for an Indexer; the lamps are lit, but there’s never anyone home.” The man seized a glass from the bar, and tapped me on the nose. “Lovely you might be…but I require a tryst to possess a modicum of intelligence. What comes out of a mouth is just as vital as what goes in.” He gave me a lingering look and then left for the swell of partiers.

“Who’s he?”

Gadzooks looked at me as if I’d spat on his paws. “Jean Genet. We recovered the original Notre Dame des Fleurs. The Librarian has no idea.”

Genet perched himself atop a suitcase in the centre of the room, thumbing theatrically through a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Shall I read?” he called out to the crowd, who cheered and held their drinks aloft. “Very well, very well. ‘I wanted to swallow myself by opening my mouth very wide and turning it over my head…’ Oh, this is one of my favourite bits! I remembered it word for word—got this one just right!”

Gadzooks handed me another glass. “That’s Hemingway’s suitcase that he’s standing on,” he said, with great import.

When I did not react with awe, he sighed and abandoned me.

I didn’t remain alone for long.

Genet plucked at my shirt-sleeve. “Remarkably, I find it easier as the night wears on to ignore your lack of discursive faculties. Animals rut, and they cannot reason.”

I sipped from my glass, holding it as a meagre barricade between myself and him. I had been with men. I preferred it. But never with a Genet.

He summoned two tall conical glasses from the barman, and placed a slotted spoon across each one, on which he placed a sugar cube. His fingers—contrary to his otherwise louche presence—were long and nimble, executing his actions with quiet delicacy. I found the practiced nature of his preparations reassuring.

Absinthe trickled over the cube, dissolving the sugar, and pooling in the bottom of the glass. Genet interlinked his arm through mine, bending it back around to reach his mouth. “Thank goodness you’re not Rimbaud,” he said before taking a gulp. I sipped and coughed. He laughed. His warm breath traced across my cheek before he kissed me hard. He drank again, and determined, this time, I matched him sip for sip. It lit an emerald fire in my belly.

There were boisterous shouts rippling around the Speakeasy—Genet wheeled around, discarding his empty glass. “What’s that? You want me to go on a night run?”

I swayed on my stool. “What’s a night run?” Was it the longest sentence I had said all day? It felt marvelous.

“Wait and see,” said Genet. I caught a glimpse of Gadzooks across the room. He shook his head, and I wondered if the gesture indicated disappointment or a warning. No matter—Genet took my hand and pulled me up. “I’m hearing…‘The Ocean to Cynthia’ by Walter Raleigh? Any other offers?”

Calls sounded from around the room.

“The Romance of the Devil’s Fart!” “Inventio Fortunata!” “A Time for George Stavros!” “The Poor Man and the Lady!”

Genet gestured as if he had tasted a bad oyster. “Boring!”

“Plath’s Double Exposure!”

Genet grinned. “Excellent. Come along, my handsome witling!”

And then:

The overhead gas lamps were extinguished, but a kind of luminescence, much the same lustre as moonlight, emanated from the stitching of the oldest books on the shelves like silvery skeletons. I crouched low.

Genet swaggered ahead of me. I half expected him to burst into song, or start skipping.

At the Index firelight still burned in one door window, casting a lone spot of colour across the flagstones. Genet stood and looked through, waiting for me to catch up. “1943,” he said. “I escaped from one hell into another.”

He spun on his heel. “Just through that door and a few streets away there is a room above a tavern. And in that room is a bed with springs that sing as you fuck. Would you like to discover conjugating?”

A rat scurried. I jumped, startled, which he mistook for virginal anxieties.

Genet laughed. “Relax. We must forge a path to Plath.” He led me away from the ring of doors. He seemed to have a knack for moving without eliciting noise; I did not share it. Each footfall of my own rang back at me from the shelves. I fell behind. Genet had vanished, leaving lazy spirals of disturbed dust in the air, and I was on my own.

I anticipated he would be thumbing through the Suicide section, but I arrived and found it solemn. Rather than being alphabetized, here the shelves were organized by methods of dispatch. Most works were incomplete. I traced my finger along the shelves, moving from gas oven to hanging, then finally to razorblade. I squatted, tilted my head to read the spines.

And there it was:

The Sum of All Our Tales. Barnabus Hardy. A single slim volume, it seemed insignificant in the vastness of the Library. I pulled it carefully from the shelf, and ran my fingers over the plain cover. The type was raised; my skin prickled. To hold the book in my hands had been worth the exhausting pretenses of the day.

A tiny voice spoke in the dark, inches from my ear. “Swivet.”

I nearly fainted.

I envisioned the Librarian leaning down from the ceiling, his hands armed with a needle and cord with which to sew my eyes shut.

The rat sat bolt upright on the fourth shelf, grooming its snout. “Zamzodden.”

I looked around before uttering “Rumblegumption.” The sheer delight of multiple syllables, held dammed up inside me all day, burst onto my tongue. I added another for good measure. “Falstaffian.”

It paused and cocked its head. Shiny black eyes stared at me. “Anopisthograph.”

I thought for a second. “Sardoodledom.”

The rat twitched its nose and long whiskers and dashed away, throwing back over its scaly fine tail a disgruntled, “Ninnyhammer.” It dislodged a book, which fell with a ponderous thud.

“Well now, my handsome library boy. This is a surprise.” Genet was leaning casually against Shotgun/A-G, watching me. He stepped close to me. In the moonlight, it was almost possible to describe his gaunt face as handsome. “I was injurious in my dismissal of your mind. Hiding such an”—he reached out and grabbed at the crotch of my trousers—“impressive vocabulary would be grounds for”—he squeezed and I gasped (truth be told, I was hard, rigid, tumescent then, both by the wickedness of the man and my discovery)—“termination.”

I stepped back and he released me. His scuffed shoe nudged the fallen book. Double Exposure. “Of course,” I said. “We should go back.”

He tsked. “Say it right.”

I sighed. “It would be auspicious for us to return to the Speakeasy before our mischief is discovered by a certain overseer.” Somewhere within me a door opened.

The Librarian found me on the morning of my second day’s employment hungover and only a few breaths short of whimpering at every book deposited by the Collectors for me to index.

“How’s our young man doing?” he said, unfolding his papery frame from between the stacks.

Behind him, Gadzooks mumbled something. He had barely glanced at me beyond the necessary since the night before, when Genet and I had burst into the Speakeasy out of breath and disheveled and sweaty.

“Fine,” I said, enunciating the single syllable with care.

“Tremendous, tremendous,” he said, rubbing his endpapers together. “The Index is looking pleasingly sparse. Fine job, fine job.” He paused, mid-flow, and looked around, wrinkling his nose. “Hmmm.”

And:

“Hmmmmm.”

I rubbed my bleary eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Gadzooks looked away.

The Librarian took a deep breath which expanded his torso like an accordion. “Something smells amiss,” he said. “No. Something smells…missing.”

I risked a glance over his shoulder, to where the slim pink spine of Double Exposure sat on the shelf.

The Librarian sniffed again. “Most incomprehensible.” He departed, dragging his long coat on the ground, which rather than wiping them bare instead lined the flagstones with dust in his wake.

I fretted all the day. Shelving volume after volume of lost books, I slipped more than a few times on the cold brass ladders. Behind texts, the rats devoured the deracinated and the archaic. Gadzooks labored next to me, but he still avoided conversation.

That night he did not invite me back to the Speakeasy. I didn’t mind: I had other things to occupy my time. Before he had been smuggled back to 1943, Genet had pressed the worn copy of Our Lady of the Flowers into my arms, suggesting that it might make good bedtime reading, and departing with a lascivious wink. (Thinking on it later, his precise words had been, “Take this and think of me in bed,” which I supposed wasn’t quite the same thing.)

And so it was for a week or so. The Librarian would appear unbidden and unnoticed, sniffing the air before vanishing, leaving me to dreary tasks—filing the assembled works of a seven-volume fantasy epic into Doubt, box after box stuffed into Teenage Diaries, navigating the complex organization of Pantos/Variations/Peter Pan.

Gadzooks had been correct about the rats’ fondness for me; they would appear amongst whatever shelf I was tending. “Anopisthograph!” said one in particular. I was convinced it was the very same rodent with which I had exchanged words on the night run. “You’ve already had that one,” I said, and shooed it away.

The next day I saw the Librarian sniffing around the display that featured famous luggage—the Library must have had other workers, still unseen, who tended to the glass-enclosed exhibitions of the detritus of authors—and with that long finger tapped by Hemingway’s suitcase. I was thankful that—for tonight at least—Genet’s manuscript was not hidden within as it usually was, with such fragrant prose that the Librarian could not have failed to scent its presence.

Yet, for all his strange behavior, the Librarian didn’t seem to suspect I possessed an intellect or a libido.

Eventually Gadzooks thawed, and reappeared at my bedroom door. “Would you like to—y’know…?”

At the Speakeasy, Genet regaled the crowd from atop the suitcase. (I wondered what had Hemingway done to Genet to deserve such roughshod disregard for his possessions, and eventually asked him; he said only “The man is famous for writing about a fish. Not a whale but a fish.”) Genet greeted me loudly. “Witling! I don’t suppose you have my book on you? I’ve drunk enough to chase away the memory of what I wrote ages ago. That I can remember my own name is a wonder.”

He pirouetted drunkenly, and toppled over. He chuckled. “Perhaps I shall just be Jean tonight and let Genet stay on the shelf.”

I helped him to the bar. I arranged two glasses, placed spoons over them, and a sugar cube atop each. Genet watched my hands as I poured the absinthe over it.

“Why do you leave it here?” I said.

“It? Pronouns are the weakest of words. Even an adverb has more panache.”

I leaned into him. He thought I meant to kiss him and I moved at the last moment so my lips touched his ear. “Your book,” I whispered into it, and felt Genet press vigorously against me; after all, what words could be more seductive to a writer? “They smuggle you in, they smuggle you out—couldn’t you take it with you?”

Genet held my face in his hands and blinked a while. “A first draft—a mere masturbatory fantasy. It belongs right here, one more lost book. It’s a dirty rag for my spent fantasies, written in the throes. What was published is superior.” He frowned. “At least, that’s what the Collectors say. I’ve only sold…” He let go of me and began to count on his fingers but quickly lost his way. “Well, not many, but they tell me that one day—”

I kissed him. Our teeth clicked and thankfully parted. We had yet to even drink the sugared absinthe but I found his mouth so pleasing that I did not notice someone tugging at the cuff of my trousers.

No, not someone. A rising wave of noise broke the familiar chatter. The minstrel faltered in his song; the assembled revelers bloomed into panic. The single rat at my feet let go of the fabric and leapt for my knee, claws digging through my trousers into the skin. “Anopisthograph. Anopisthograph!” and then at the doors the noise crescendoed with a tumult of panicked rats spilling through and across the floor.

Genet cursed. I shouted, “The Librarian!”

And:

“Run!”

And:

We dashed, and it was hard not to laugh with how Genet smiled as we escaped. I pulled him towards the Index; he pulled me towards the staircase; in the tension between the two we spun in each other’s arms as if we were dancing. In the end, I did not deny him another night spent in my bed. I shut the door fast, almost crushing the rat that scampered in and took refuge in my writing desk.

“Ow,” Genet said as we collapsed onto the mattress. “How can you sleep? What is in this? Horsehair?” He wet my lips. “Have you ever eaten cheval?” He groped me. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Authors were indeed.

I nibbled on the sweet rolls they fed us. I had pocketed an extra one for Gadzooks.

“The last Indexer would give me his meals,” Gadzooks said as he chewed. “He never came to the Speakeasy. He wasted away in his room.”

“Lost in a book?” I said.

“Oh, no. He didn’t dare read. I think that’s why he faded to nothing. Every time he spoke he lost the words in his head.” Gadzooks rapped on his misshapen skull. “If you don’t replace that with something…even feelings, then you stop.”

I had so many words in my head but I wasn’t sure if there would be enough feelings if I lost my vocabulary.

A rat scurried into the middle of the Index.

“Anopisthograph.”

And then:

“Thomas Hardy,” said the Librarian. His fingers traced down my cheek and neck, and far from the brittle dryness I had imagined, they felt sharp, as if they might leave a trail of papercuts on my skin. “Quite fascinating. Such a faultless resume should have been enough to make me doubt. Clever boy…I was lulled by the passive voice. I should have checked your references.”

The rat turned slowly, almost apologetically, and backed away beneath the stacks. I sighed.

“Indeed,” I said. “That would have been prudent of you. Judicious. Shrewd. Discerning, even.”

The Librarian winced.

Gadzooks attempted to fade away into the shelves. “Ah-ah-ah,” said the Librarian. He beckoned Gadzooks closer with a crooked finger. “Surreptitious sneaking—I’m afraid I cannot allow that.”

With one hand the Librarian covered my face. I feared he meant to smother me; his skin against my nose smelt of spilt ink, the emaciated palm against my mouth made me choke with its taste of glue.

Then I heard Gadzooks scream.

The Librarian released me. All that remained of my Collector friend was a large hessian sack and some old wooden toys. A yo-yo stopped spinning, its thread a last umbilical cord.

“Don’t think of it as murder,” said the Librarian. “Think of it as a metaphor for murder.”

I swallowed.

“The old beak warned me. Something missing. Boys before you sneaked into Unwarranted Adventures or Illegal Pornography. But you went there.” He gestured at the door. Neither of us needed to say aloud the section.

“What am I to do with you?” He plucked from his coat pocket a book that made my heart sink. “And more importantly, what am I to do with this, found in your mattress.” He inspected the spine. “The Sum of All Our Tales, by Barnabus Hardy. Father? Grandsire? Brother?” He leered. “Lover?”

“Father.”

“Pity,” the Librarian said. “You must have been so young. The age when you were warned about razorblades in Halloween candy—not the bathtub.”

I stiffened.

“No note. Just his final manuscript. Did the literary world mourn his loss?”

“Stop.”

The Librarian shut the book hard enough that his clothes rippled. “By all means. But tell me, young Hardy, have you ever heard the word ‘deaccession.’ Not so common any more, which is a shame.” He opened the grate of the nearest gas lamp. I screamed at him to cease, to desist, but still he poked one corner of my father’s only book into the flame.

He dropped the papers curling into ash as the fire spread.

“A lesson, a dear lesson in realizing what a lost book is,” he said.

The Librarian’s immense arm pressed me back, anticipating me wrestling free, though I didn’t know what I would do even if I could escape his grasp—perhaps throw myself on the fire in hopes of extinguishing it, rescuing the scorched remnants of the manuscript from the ashes? But it would be futile: it does not take long for poetry to burn. Verses are highly flammable—it’s because they were dear fuel in someone’s imagination.

“Consider that a written warning—obviously it cannot be filed away, but…well, I am a practical man. With the elder Hardy’s esprit in ashes perhaps you will no longer want to open a book again.” The Librarian straightened his bow-tie. “You may take the rest of the day off. If I find you at the Index in the morning, I will know your decision to stay with us. At a reduction in salary.”

Perhaps my gaze was too wet with tears to set his retreating backside ablaze.

I trudged to my room. The Librarian’s search had torn apart bed and desk. I sat down on the floor and wrapped my arms around my knees.

Something climbed up my back and to my ear. “Empressement.”

I stroked the rat with two fingers. It chirped and then nipped gently at my earlobe. “Frantling.” It leapt to the ground and ran towards the door, stopped and looked over its shoulder at me and squeaked. “Usative.”

I followed it through the maze of the Library. The lighting where we tread was dimmer. I had not been everywhere. Some subjects were unknown to me. Down one path I saw a familiar figure reclining on the penultimate shelf devoid of books. The rat scampered away as Genet peered up at me.

“Sometimes I do not go back,” he said, looking chagrinned. He handed me the book his head had been resting on. A Scheme for a New Alphabet and a Reformed Mode of Spelling by Benjamin Franklin. “How he loved whores. Once they brought him to the Speakeasy and all he wanted to do was steal a boy’s glasses and find the door leading to ancient Lesbos.”

Genet stretched, a gesture that was part exercise and part pretense to embrace me suddenly. “I doubt more than a handful of authors end up in Wasted Graphemes so it is safe here.” He touched my face, my cheeks. “Ahh, but you recently had a terrible encounter with the wicked regent, I see.”

I told him of my father, of his poetry. It had been years since I spoke of being away at school when they found his body, of life at the homes of distant relatives who could not look at me without seeing a debt to family they wanted little part of. My last name was all I had of my father’s until I learned of the Library.

“You must feel his loss keenly.”

I shrugged. “My father is a long-closed chapter.”

“Ah, I see. The book, then—you mourn the loss of the book.”

“Something like that.”

“We shall toast to both the man and his book at the Speakeasy tonight,” Genet said, laying a hand on my shoulder.

I rested my cheek against Genet’s fingers. “Actually—I had another thought. If you don’t mind.”

And finally:

1943 smelt of fire and paper. Feet stamped in unison, close by; voices intoned, “Heil Hitler!”; the books of Germany burnt in the courtyard, a gout of gluttonous smoke bearing their words into a sky already thick with many volumes. I backed away from the bonfire as fast as I could, pushing through the crowds that railed against the soldiers, shouldering my way through and away. Away from the crowd, away from the noise. Ducking into an alleyway, I paused to breathe, heaving against the damp wall.

One hand was in Genet’s as I pulled him along behind me; the other clutched tight to the worn leather handle of Hemingway’s suitcase. Several street corners away, I pulled Genet into an alleyway. “You said you had a room near here—the room above the tavern, where the bed-springs sing?”

He pressed against me, mouth close to my ear. “How forward of you—I like it.”

He led me a few streets further, arriving at a narrow doorway in the shadow of rotting tenements, the tavern windows the only warm thing in sight. He fumbled with a key, whilst I wrapped my arms tight around myself and shivered. Away from the book-burning, the city was freezing. Eventually, Genet persuaded the door to open, and he led me up rickety stairs to a room reminiscent of my chambers at the Library: sparse, furnished with a bed and a writing table. The greying sheets were balled on a threadbare mattress, and the table was strewn with papers. The floorboards creaked and wobbled beneath our feet.

There was a murine flicker by the doorway, and a scaly tail darted between my feet. A whispered word floated back in its wake. “Anopisthograph!”

I sat on the bed, still shivering. Genet watched the rat depart and closed the door. The sound of the key in the lock released me; the tension of weeks in the Library, fumbling around under the Librarian’s watchful eye, drained away. I sank back.

Genet lay down beside me, his skin warm against mine. He smelt of absinthe and book dust; I had the urge to bury my face in his chest, but my bone-weary limbs wouldn’t co-operate.

“Will you read to me?” I said.

He arched an eyebrow, and nuzzled against my shoulder. “My handsome witling—foreplay, is it?”

“This isn’t foreplay.”

“I have nothing to—”

“The suitcase.”

The bed-springs sang as he arose; I heard the grate of the lock opening, and the rustle of papers, then Genet returned to me with the contents of the suitcase in his hands: the first manuscript of Our Lady of the Flowers, where I had returned it when I had finished.

Genet smiled faintly. “My slack-handed first draft—but if you insist…” He cleared his throat, and raised the first page to his eyes. “‘Wiedmann appeared before you in the five o’clock edition,’” he began.

“No,” I said. “Turn it over.”

He did as I asked, squinting at the fresh scrawl that coated the reverse of his pages.

“Sorry about my handwriting,” I said. There had not been light in my Library chambers, or much space with which to work. My letters had been shrunk to the smallest I could manage to cram in everything I needed to write on the pale underside of Genet’s own pages.

Genet sat up on the bed, crossed his legs, looked from the page, to me, and to the page again. He cleared his throat theatrically. “‘The Sum of All Our Tales, by Barnabus Hardy’,” he began.

“The Library of Lost Things” copyright © 2017 by Matthew Bright

Art copyright © 2017 by Red Nose Studio