#was in the middle of a job interview when i received the notif about the update and ngl my brain malfunctioned

[monsieurbbh]

It's an admission that even Klaus still thinks about their past.

She doesn't know why she kisses him, just then. Maybe to say- thank you.

Fairytale Ending, Chapter Sixty-Two

by @livlepretre

[warrior-u-preservation]

Interview with The Path Podcast (Full written responses)

(Note: The interview itself will be different, since mod myne represented both mods on the podcast. However, this includes our full feelings on the questions that were provided to us.)

Who are you and how did you end up walking the path of a "warrior u" writer/comic creator?

Myne: I go by worldismyne for fandom related pursuits.

I'd like to clarify that Aisha Thani is the creator of Warrior U. Just like multiple people have written for Stan Lee's creations, I'm just a writer who's received permission from the creator to distribute and monetize works within her universe.

I've been in the WU fandom since 2014; at that time Aisha made the comic, ran an in character ask blog, a concept art blog and the main blog. I can only imagine how much work that was. A hard drive crash killed about 6 or so pages of Ambrosia, the last story arch she was working on; three weeks worth of updates up and gone. I watched writer’s block take hold and kill my favorite series in real time. Having to go back and redo work she’d already done had given her time to look at it and go ‘I can’t post this, this is awful’, but by then all of us were waiting for the next update for over a month, she couldn’t go back and rewrite the entire arch. It didn’t help that this was the origin story for a fan favorite character, so there was all this pressure to make it perfect. Instead, after about six artists made fan comics to feed the hungry fandom… she announced the end. The website, the blogs, one by one they all ran into issues and got shut down. Hundreds of pieces of art and story concepts just… lost. Once the comics were rereleased on gumroad, that was it, the fandom slowly died. Before this project, the last time the creator posted new content was in 2017. Then in the middle of the pandemic, out of nowhere I get 70+ notifications from Coffee reblogging the pieces of art I had saved from the old blog, including drafts from the unfinished issues. 

Coffee: well, i go by coffee online, im 20 years old and when im not working on my various personal projects i work part-time. i was introduced to warrior u WAYY back in the day (i think i was like 9-ish?) by my brother who found out about it through some unknown and mysterious ways. back then i had very limited internet access (meaning i could only visit sites that could be loaded by the internet app on my nintendo dsi), so i pieced together a bit of a plot from what i could find on google images. i wasnt able to fully read the comic until i was 13 (i had to BEG my mom to pay for the pdfs lol), but it had kinda always existed in the back of my mind ever since i was introduced to it. i decided a little over a year ago to start out the tumblr blog because i had recently read through the comic again and was really sad about just how hard it is (or i guess WAS now) to find a lot of things related to the comic. as the name of the blog suggests, its original purpose was to preserve/archive warrior u stuff so it could be more accessable to your average internet user who might not wanna go digging through internet archives. it was originally for official content EXCLUSIVELY, but myne talked me into also including fan-made content (and im glad he did, its WAY harder to find some fan content than i remember it being just a few years ago). its kinda hard to tell how good of a job it does at BEING that archive, but i like to think it could be useful to someone out there.

i had toyed with the idea of finishing the last official story arc- ambrosia- near the beginning of the blogs lifespan, but i knew that it was too big of a project for me to do myself. i didnt wanna dissapoint people by leaving the ALREADY unfinished arc STILL unfinished. i had written in the "about" section of the blog that the dream was a full fandom revival, but i didnt actually expect that to happen. when myne joined the blog we eventually started playing with the idea of finishing ambro. i forget how exactly we officially decided we would do it, but we did! at some point near the beginning of ambro, we had also decided we were gonna write our own fan-arcs and post those too, and the rest is history!

What was it about warrior u that made you say "this is it. i need to make more content of this."

Coffee: honestly? i think it was just how much i enjoy introducing people to the comic. i already make tons of fan content on my own time, so that wasnt really the crazy part. i had shown a couple of my mutuals the comic after i re-read it, and the feeling of seeing other people actually talk about and even make ART of warrior u was absolutely surreal. i guess thats what happens when you just silently admire a dead fandom for years LMAO! another big part of it was HOW the comic ended. after taking a hiatus, the creator ended the comic mid-arc because creating it just wasnt enjoyable anymore, and thats obviously completely fair. however, the arc it ENDED on was elaborating on the backstory of one of (if not THE) most popular characters at the time (and my personal favorite), so i had always wished that the issue could have been finished. its kinda hard to put into words, but finishing ambrosia was like a love letter to the comic and its creator to me. as flawed as the plot of that arc may be (and as unsatisfied with it as the creator was, at least back then) i still felt like it deserved to be finished. it was like fixing an old toy from your childhood, i felt like we were taking care of the comic in a way, giving it the love it deserves. maybe thats just my tendency to personify objects and get overly attached to them coming through, but hey thats how it is sometimes LMAO

Myne: When the comic was still on hiatus after the harddrive crash, some people had asked Aisha if she wanted to hand the series over to other artists to help her. She said she wouldn’t even know where to begin that process or if she’d wanted to do it. I would have offered then, but my skills as an artist and a writer weren’t nearly as strong. I held onto the drafts thinking, one day I’d do it. 

Myne: After Coffee and I started talking I realized, I can do it now. I know what kind of style of pens were used, and I whipped up a page, just the line art and sent to Coffee as a thank you. I thought, it isn’t much, and it’ll take me forever to color everything, but if there’s one person willing to read it, I’ll try. When I explained how difficult it’d be for me to color, he offered to do it for me. Suddenly a page that would take a month for just me to do on my own took 3 days.

Myne: Something, that seemed like a monumental task became a realistic goal. We were able to find, restore, and edit 45 pages within a few months. I’m still amazed we were able to do weekly updates without missing a day. Coffee asked if I’d ever be willing to write fan issues while we were working, not realizing I was the author of the longest fics in the series. Of course I said yes. Seeing Warrior U get finished, even through fan creation, was something I’d wanted to see for years.

You're from Az right, how is the webcomic weeb culture over there as opposed to california?

Myne: Idk about much about Cali, I've noticed the cons are more... professional? Where as Arizona cons have more of a fanclub vibe. Most panels are hosted by your fellow nerds rather than sony or production companies. I will say, that it's become more common and widespread in the last ten years, with multiple anime specific events year round. Back when I was a kid, I'd get made fun of for drawing 'japanese' people all the time.... it was pokemon fanart... Where as nowadays, I feel the average kid recognizes most big name titles thanks to hulu and such. 

What are your favorite anime/manga/webcomics and do any inspire your work?

Coffee: not really an anime, manga, or webcomic, but ive always been super inspired by the "scott pilgrim" series. when i was in middle school i was SUPER into it, reading all the behind the scenes stuff i could find. it even made me look into "comic illustrator" as a career option, but i also did the same thing with "game designer" and "animator" so yknow. as for webcomics, the only one i ever really got into was homestuck. side note- the overlap of oldschool homestuck fans and warrior u fans is FASCINATING to me. my current theory is that all these tumblr kids were looking for other webcomics to read while homestuck was on one of its MANY hiatuses(?) and so a bunch of them flocked to warrior u! theres tons of homestuck crossover content and references in fan art on our blog (some of the art styles also look homestuck-ajacent) so its at least clear that a lot of fans back then were also really into homestuck. ANYWAYS other than that i havent really read many other webcomics tbh? weird considering i MAKE one now but what can i say, im more of a Gamer than anything lol. as for anime, my favorite is easily keroro gunso (or sgt. frog if youre using the dub name)! its another thing i discovered when i was young (this time i was like 8) and have just never gotten over. theres a lot of Questionable stuff in it (prime example is an adult alien being madly in love with a 14 year old girl) but if i dont look at canon its not real so i love it anyways <3.i honestly dont know how many people really know about it since the western fanbase is so small, but its like HUGE in japan (or at least it was at one point, the titular keroro has a cameo in lucky star as a keychian) and the manga is still running to this day iirc. it was created by mine yoshizaki and the basic premise is that a platoon of frog-like aliens come to earth to take it over but they really suck at it. they begin living with humans and from there its kind of a mix between a slice-of-life and monster-of-the-week anime. i cant really say anything in depth about the manga because ive only read the first 5 issues of it, which are basically the same as the anime (fake fan smh), but ive heard that it gets more mature and serious than the anime does (which i guess is bound to happen when it goes on for so long). also the manga has some ecchi moments and blood used for slapstick purposes so if anyone wants to check it out just keep that in mind lol.

Myne: Obviously Warrior U. I'm a bit of a visual novel fiend, so Danganronpa is a series I've found a lot of inspiration from over the years. More recently  Though for the comic, I draw mostly from late 80s / early 90s high fantasy. Things like Labyrinth and Robinhood: Men in Tights. Honestly anytime I get stuck trying to come up with a gag, I look to Mel Brooks. 

So in continuing someone else's work, do you feel a sense of pressure to be just as good as the original?

Coffee: i definitely felt that way when it came to ambrosia, but i feel a lot less pressure when it comes to our upcoming issues. i wrote and made thumbnails for a few small scenes in ambro and i was SO SCARED of those scenes being noticably worse than the rest of the issue. i know the original creator has seen our version of ambro and those scenes by extention, but i dont know her exact thoughts on them. im satisfied with them but theres probably always gonna be that kinda star-struck stage feeling at the thought of the creator reading the scenes i wrote. its like getting stage fright. for our upcoming issues i dont feel as much pressure because theyre fully fan-written. our comics arent official in any sense of the word and theyre basically just fanfiction with extra steps, so its not nearly as stressful as trying to tie together an "official" story. there definitely WOULD be that pressure if we were ever given the rights to warrior u or something (which i dont want to happen) because then it WOULD be official yknow? also if the creator decides to keep up with what we post ill feel a bit more pressure, but i get the feeling that she wants to distance herself from warrior u a bit so im not sure how likely that would be.

Myne:  I do. Partially because, the fan content we’re making is completely free while the original series is purchasable on gumroad. So there’s a chance that some people may start with what we’re working on, then go backwards to the original.  I'm hyper aware of the tonal shift that's about to happen, no matter how much I try, I can't perfectly emulate someone else's writing style. The best I can do is capture the spirit of it. I just keep repeating "it doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be". It's a little harder taking that advice now that it's my scripts we're turning into issues. There is some freedom in knowing the series was never meant to be perfect though.

What drove you to writing the longest fanfiction for the series and how did it feel to be recognized and promoted by the original creator?

Myne: When I was younger, I would write fanfic instead of paying attention in class, and I really wanted a full story about the leads getting together. Knowing that the creator was reading every fanfic at the time added more fuel to the fire. I had a guaranteed audience, the audience. I was so grateful that she recommended it to other fans. That fic was 25k, I've written about 100 K in the last year to help maintain interest in addition to new pages to the comic. To that I blame hyperfixation and hiatus brain. You have to be the biggest fan of the thing you're making.

So i see the that most of your work including the webcomic Warrior U is on tumblr why did u choose to promote om tumblr as opposed to other webcomic outlets like webtoons, mangadex etc?

Coffee: the answer to this one is actually pretty simple; i already had a warrior u blog and tumblr is the social media/blogging site that im most familiar with! we have recently started using comicfury and tapas, but that was entirely mynes idea. im personally pretty content with just hanging out in my little corner of the internet so any attempts to expand or get the word out is mostly (if not entirely) mynes doing LOL!

Myne: It's interesting you bring up those two actually. Webtoons recently come under fire for being pretty crummy to it's indie comics, particularly if you write in any genre other than romance. Mangadex is a pirating website, so most of the comics there are fan translations rather than uploads from the creators : they had a pretty bad data breach a few years back too. At first we only had permission from the creator to upload on tumblr. Once we got permission to move forward with the fanmade run, we branched out to tapas and comicfury. They seemed like the best options for the genre and style we write in. Even still, we see about double the growth in readership on tumblr as opposed to the other outlets, and I think that's mostly because the blog updates daily, even though we only publish one page a week.

Do you have any plans on creating your own webcomic/manga?

Coffee: yes and no. i sometimes draw small fan comics and id like to make more polished and "finished" ones in the future, but nothing with any kind of overarching plot, at least not in the near future. i have a very hard time making original content for whatever reason. i DO have one (1) personal project that is completely original, but i plan on making a game with that. then again i have NO idea what im doing with that project anymore so who knows, maybe one day i WILL decide to turn it into a comic! only time will tell…

Myne: I have a visual novel I'm working on. It's about teen super villains that have to go to reform school. Think teen titans meets gifted kid burnout. The game's been in development hell since our first alpha build and writing about apocalyptic civil unrest wasn't as fun as it was pre 2020. We're about 200k into the draft for the full game and we're having to switch engines, which means cutting a bunch of features, but we're slowly getting there. If that fails, I'll try adapting the story into a comic.

To those people who will see this and decide to strut down the path of comic creation what is some advice you can give them?

Coffee: i think the most HELPFUL advice i could give would be this: you dont have to do everything by yourself. i personally have taken tons of inspiration from indie artists/game designers/etc. some prime examples of this are daisuke amaya aka pixel (who created cave story) and toby fox (who created undertale and deltarune), who both made incredible pieces of art that were defining to me as a person when i discovered them either entirely alone or almost entirely alone. you hear stories all the time of these great pieces of art being made by one or two people, and ive always wanted to be like that. as a result ive alwasy had a hard time reaching out for help when it comes to my art, feeling like if i cant do it all alone that itll never be as good as it could be. as a result though, all this mindset does is keep things from actually getting done and needlessly stress you out. NONE of the warrior u comics would exist if i had never gotten help from myne, and the blog would have probably gone inactive a LONG time ago too. i think thats the biggest lesson ive learned from this whole thing personally. theres absolutely no shame in working with a team of people if thats what needs to happen to see a project be realized.

Myne:  One, try not to put more than 8 panels on a page, that's helped me a bunch with page layout. And two, find someone you can show your work to. That can be a friend, a mutual online, a family member; as long as you have that one person asking "what happens next" you can keep writing. The stories/comics I have that are the longest are because of that. 

What inspires your art and what would u say you consider your style to be?

Myne: Invader Zim, Danganronpa, and Pacthesis have heavily influenced my art style. (pacthesis made a series of free dating sims on deviant art). I've always considered my art style to be pretty shoujo manga, but lately some of my pieces have been labeled too western for weeb spaces.

What advise can you give the next person who wants to draw art and share it with the world?

Coffee: i give the same advice to everyone i meet that says theyre thinking of making art in any form, and i mean it from the bottom of my heart: DO IT! im so in love with art of all kinds and the process of creating it, and i think that getting into any creative hobby is nothing but a good thing and i deeply believe that everyone should do it. whether you wanna draw, write, make music, develop games, sculpt, knit, etc, do it! quality doesnt matter at all, you can make the most technically awful thing in the world but as long as you enjoyed the process of creating it then it still has value. dont be nervous about your art being good enough. if you dont want to share it then you arent obligated to! i dont share like 90% of the stuff that i make but i still create art almost every single day! recently my qpp (queerplatonic partner) has gotten into drawing and im SO happy for them. they primarily use mspaint and a mouse to draw and their art is SO adorable and i love it so much, and im not just saying that because i love them. it doesnt matter what skill level you start at or what tools you have, you can always start making art. and dont compare the art that you make to others art, which i know from experience is a VERY easy trap to fall into. i dont have as much to say about that point because im not as passionate about it but uhhh yeah :3

Myne: Social media algorithms are not going to make you happy; no matter how well you play the game and low engagement does not mean you're a bad artist. If you keep posting and talking to other artists, you'll find your audience.

So at wonder con where we met ylu were cosplaying power from chainsaw man with a group of girls who were cosplaying other chainsaw characters. Do you girls normally group up and cosplay and if so how did you get into it?

Myne:  I was born into cosplay. My parents were gamers and cosplayers, and I started picking my own characters to cosplay when I was 14. I started getting more into it in college when I could find other people to cosplay with, it wasn't until this year I started aiming for photoshoots. I tend to be in at least one large group cosplay a con, and bring a different costume every day.

What was your favorite cosplay you've done?

Myne: It's a toss up between Persona 5 Joker and Alluring Secret Rin. Those were the ones I put the most work in that still hold up. Though I'm currently working on Eris from the Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, and that may overtake them.

Have you ever thought to cosplay someone from Warrior U?

Myne:  I do actually! I've cosplayed as the main character Finn a few times. I really like taking simplified designs from comics/cartoons and turning them into heavily detailed looks. '

Where do you see warrior u being in 5 years from now?

Coffee: man, honestly if were STILL working on this project 5 years from now that would be CRAZY. this is already the longest ive worked on a single project before, along with being the most ive ever gotten DONE for a project, so thinking about what it could be like in 5 years is like. WOW. by that point we would have archived most (if not ALL) of the older stuff we could find, so our blog would probably just be new pages and fan interaction if were still going! the dream is still for a full fandom revival, and weve already got a small active fanbase (of like 5 people but still) so who knows, maybe that dream will be a reality?

Myne: We have at least 3 years worth of story drafted and lined up, and even more outlined. So ideally still updating. By then, we'll have some physical releases of the finished arcs that we've written available for purchase online and at select events. The creator has said she has no interest in making physical releases of the original run. I'd love for that to change, but I respect her decision and I won't press the matter. I'm just grateful we have permission to sell anything we make using her characters. 

If you could go back in time 5 years, what advice would you give yourself?

Coffee: 15 and 16 were ROUGH ages for me tbh. i wont get into it because its super personal, but i was struggling with a lot and just generally not having a very good time. i think the best advice i could give to myself would just be that like. things will eventually get better. no matter how dark or hopeless things may be, theres always a silver lining and a light at the end of the tunnel. now if 15 year old me would have taken that to heart is a whole DIFFERENT question, but thats what i would say. 16 was like right before i (finally) started getting treatment for my mental health, so i think considering everything thats what i would say.

Myne: So many bad things happened during those five years, but… I wish I knew what burnout felt like, so I could recognize it. I have this tendency to put my self worth into “how much have you done today”, so once I started working full time and my father passed,  I couldn’t recognize that I was physically and emotionally exhausted some days and needed rest, so I’d just punish myself mentally for not being more motivated. You shouldn’t need permission to rest, and I felt like I had to. It’s healthy to ‘nothing’ sometimes, especially if you’re dealing with things you have no control over.

Coffee: thank you for interviewing myne and i for your podcast :D!! its absolutely wild to think that ive done anything interview-worthy and yet here we are! for anyone thats interested in the comic because of this, i also emplore you to go check out the creators current comic "si3lah" (pronounced like si-ayn-lah i think? the 3 is a stand-in for an arabic letter) on gumroad! it deserves way more attention than it currently has and you should 100% go support the original creator if you like the stuff we do (wink wink).

[juniestar]

I really like not having a sense of humor or making cute jokes as often as I used to like try to be funny with me bitch. Now try to be funny with me again. A friend wrote me like “not you silencing notifs in the middle of our convo” I wrote back “they’ve been silenced since 10pm it’s automatic” I will not think of anything humorous to say to you. I hate you. I’ve actually been really bitter against a lot of people recently, many of whom didn’t do anything to me but I just feel like I put my glasses on to look at them and realized they were people and hated them for it, it’s a bit overwhelming. There’s also a subset of these whom I don’t like just because they ignored me when I asked to hang out or whatever and now I see them pursuing things I won’t publicly support bc I KNOW I wouldn’t receive that level of support back. Also I’m put off by one of my coworkers bc he said Drake putting hot sauce on his condom before fucking this woman who’d been trying to baby trap him was “cool” (just don’t have any more fucking sex with her, dude) and he told me that he once punched an ex gf in the stomach bc she’d been hitting him and blocking his way out of the grocery store, I couldn’t tell if he meant play hitting or for real trying to fight him but if it’s the former it’s so gross. And he’s one of those types who dresses like a woman but still IDs as male, which isn’t an issue because a lot of the time I see a light reenter the eyes of people who do this, but he has unresolved issues towards women that I don’t like. I mentioned to my other coworker that I used to talk shit about him and now just have suspicions about him and he told me he’d ask more but didn’t want part in any drama so I should just have fun with my suspicions and THAT made me bitter too even though it’s me who didn’t tell him what my suspicions were! Ugh, I should’ve just told him that I don’t like the way our coworker talks about women so I’d give him a fair chance to respond to something I think has a bit of gravity which isn’t petty gossip shit but I didn’t want to make it weird. I get along well with that guy, he’s not a bad guy so I don’t want to go around telling people how I feel, but I don’t like him much half the time. Each time he’s said something weird I’ve told him it’s weird so at least he knows how I feel. I’m also bitter against men who ask to hang out and I know they want me but they just don’t say it until they’re backed into a corner. It feels so slimy. And I’m bitter that they’re all short, I don’t care, I am. I’m bitter against my old boss, who didn’t pay me for three months instead of looking into things and realizing the system wasn’t getting my timecards, I’m bitter against people who smile in my face but avoid me, I’m bitter against the stained glass place in the Inner Richmond which interviewed me, rejected me, called me back to have me try out working there, getting me to cancel a full day of my usual job to go over to their sad sack of shit place, met another candidate last minute, wasted my day, hired her, and then offered to pay me back for 2 or 3 hours (i was there nearly 3 hours and missed five hours of pay at my other job because I was promised seven hours of work here) instead of the full day. I’m going to go ask for a full day’s pay tomorrow. I’m bitter that I have to work with a former friend who left me because I was too pathetic and didn’t say “thank you” enough on a film set. I’m bitter that my hair is fucking short. I’m bitter that I’d always get happy birthday wishes from my white protestant grandma (important distinction because I have a white protestant grandma, a jewish grandma, and two iranian grandmas) but didn’t realize til after she died that I never sent one back. I’m bitter that I can’t show closeness or care for anyone within my family without feeling like there’s a million eyes on me. I’m really bitter against all the aforementioned people though. And I hate Kathryn Newton’s face.

[writing4mycuties]

Life in Quarantine

Part 2

***please don't copy or post my work, but feel free to reblog, like and comment! ***

It wasn't a hard decision to make. Chris wanted me to stay with him for now while the world dealt with the crisis of this virus. Every state had different rules in place but for the most part, it was very similar. The first thing I did was call my parents. Not because I needed permission, I was well past the age of that, but out of respect and common courtesy. This was pretty serious and I would always be their child so I wanted to talk this decision through with them. Chris and I called them via video to talk to them about it.

The conversation went well and they gave us their blessing to ‘live together’ instead of being separate for who knows how long. They knew I would be well taken care of and with technology today, we could talk through video. My job also contacted me with my next contracted assignment and it was going to be set up remotely which meant I could work from wherever I wanted. Chris made a space in his office for my computer and things I would need right next to his.

His live video interviews would be done in the alcove off of the kitchen/dining room or in his bedroom for the most part. This would be safe for keeping our relationship private longer. We had done a good job so far, aside from the occasional speculations made throughout social media and his fans. This pandemic would be easy to keep our secret going since we didn’t plan to be out until we knew more about things. I had seen how some fans, not many when compared to amount of fans he has, would react to the knowledge of Chris having a girlfriend in the past. There was no doubt in my mind people would hate me, but I knew that going into this.

Scott was doing some things remotely for work just like Chris and I. His room was over the garage on the other side of the house. It was actually like a living suite almost. Needless to say, he’d be just as comfortable there as an apartment or him mom’s. Jennifer Garner started a charity for kids when the quarantine began and of course Chris found out and signed up to participate. I followed Chris on Instagram but we decided he didn’t need to follow me because fans would definitely pick up on him following a random girl. He had a private Instagram with a fake name that he followed friends and family and me on. I was in the middle of setting my things up in the office when I received a notification that Chris had posted something. Yeah, corny I know, I get notifications for my boyfriend, but what can I say? He is pretty damn cute.

Watching the video of Chris reading, ‘If You Give A Dog A Donut’, my smile basically split my face in two. At first I wasn’t too keen on him cutting his hair. But watching this video reminded me of how much I loved this look on him. Sometimes I couldn’t understand how this man made flannel and a buzzcut look as hot as he did.

That cute little smile made me feel like he actually pictured himself sitting in a preschool reading this to a bunch of kids and it warmed my heart. Seeing the soft side of this big, strong man always made me feel like I won the lottery.

Right when the video ended, I was brought out of my own thoughts when Chris snuck up on me. “YOU ALREADY WATCHED IT? Oh man! You need to turn off those notifications!”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

March 22 Scott buzzed his head too, just not as well as Chris had.

Chris had buzzed his head since he knew he wouldn’t have any work for a while. He found it easier and more comfortable not worrying about having to brush or style if for video conferences calls. Once Scott saw Chris being as carefree about his hair he followed along behind his brother. He missed quite a few spots and asked me to help him but I didn’t want that responsibility so he asked Chris.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Chris joined in on a few more charities to raise money.

ASP finally launched and Chris was so nervous.

🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝

Dodger had been scheduled to get a hair cut but then the quarantine changed those plans. Chris thought he could do it himself. He was wrong.

May 14, 2020 Chris had an interview with Jimmy Fallon and showed the picture of the haircut he attempted on poor Dodger. I had been recruited after he cut it too short and finished the job but that part was left out for obvious reasons. He also just said he was in quarantine with Scott, leaving out the whole girlfriend part.

The guys played a game with Jimmy and I made sure to stay clear of hearing anything. I knew there was a big chance of me giggling at them because they were so cute together when they did things like this.

[annie-mit-ie]

Glimpses: Part 3B (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // Previous chapter <<< >>> Next Chapter

Summary: The Hotel Room

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: slightly NSFW

A/N: Hey y’all! I’m not sure if this already counts as NSFW but I guess we all are better safe than sorry, so.. here we go!

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She doesn’t turn the lights on as she makes her way to the window front and opens the blinds. The city lights that are now shining in spend enough light for you to see her roaming the apartment. She stops for a moment to take a look outside as she takes a couple of pins out of her ponytail, shakes her head and runs her hands through her hair.

You stare at her silhouette, highlighted by the night, and only catch yourself as the door closes behind you with a loud clicking noise. She turns around and reaches for the light switch on one of the lamps closest to her.

“Come on in, Honey! Take a seat“ she chimes and shortly taps a chair as she passes by it on her way to the bathroom. 

Your heart is racing as you take off your shoes and make your way over to where she told you to sit. You can hear her roaming in the room next door and scan the apartment. The room must be a suite - not that you had any comparison or anything - but it looks expensive and you are hesitant to sit down on anything. The large kingsized bed takes up a lot of space but still looks small in comparison to the room itself. 

You sit down on the chair closets to the bed, with its back against the mirror, that grants a view out of the window as well as towards the closed bathroom door and wait. Your phone vibrates and you take it out to check on the notification.

11.53pm. You unlock the screen and are greeted with tons of new messages in that group chat you are in that is discussing Kathryn’s appearance at today’s event. A grin forms on your lips and you can’t help but bite your tongue as you type out how good you think Kathryn looked today. Everyone agrees and you open tumblr so see what content other fans are sharing right now.

It all feels unreal. You, in your element, as you are next door to the woman you admire so much. You look at the door again, right as she opens it and looks straight at you. Your mouth falls open and she raises an eyebrow as she notices. “Like what you see?“

You look away and focus on the phone, that is still in your hands, for a second before looking back up. “I’m sorry, Kathryn. I didn’t mean to intrude. You just… You look so different. It’s nice.“

It wasn’t a lie - she looks absolutely stunning, familiar even, but at the same time she looks like a whole different person as she stands there, leaning against the bathroom door frame. Her hair is starting to curl again and falls loosely over her shoulder as she twirls a strand of it around her finger, her eyes focused on you. She exchanged the corset and suit pants to a louse grey sweatshirt and grey sweatpants. Obviously, you had never seen her like that before and it absolutely mesmerizes you and you try to burn the image into your mind. 

Still focused on each other, you bring your eyes back up to meet hers and decide to just go for it and give her a compliment. “You look beautiful, Kathryn.“ 

The name and compliment roll off your tongue and it just feels right. Thinking about that, you notice her cheeks are blushing and the way her smile has changed. You take note of it. “Nah,“ she says, „nothing special.“ 

You want to argue against it, you really do, but decide that tonight would not be the night for it. You have noticed that Kathryn often disputes compliments and praise, no matter how deserved. It even feels like she doesn’t believe in herself sometimes, at least not in the fact that people could actually admire her. You want to tell her all that and make another note of it in your head, but right now it certainly doesn’t feel like the moment. You really don’t need to fangirl about AND TO the woman that invited you into her life to hang out tonight. She walks to the table she had placed the wine on earlier and pours another glass for both of you before moving towards you to take a seat on the couch that is next to your chair. As she hands the glass to you, she looks at you from above and you suddenly feel very small and a shiver runs down your spine. The shirt, as loose as it is, had fallen off her left shoulder and is now exposing her collar bone once again. You bite the corner of your lower lip as your eyes travel along the hem of the shirt that is currently exposing a little too much skin for you to stay calm.

Kathryn notices and suddenly bents down a little deeper than needed as her fingers brush yours once again. Your breath hitches, a sudden desire coming over you. Fuck. Your mind is in overdrive. The urge to grab her by the hips and just pull her onto your lap is overwhelming. You imagine what it would feel like to have her on top of you - to slowly slide your hands into her hair and pull it, just a little, until she moans, just for you. 

You sit up a little straighter, adjusting the way you sit, as she lets go of the glass but stays standing in front of your chair. You put the glass aside onto the small table that you find right next to where you are seated and think about if you should reach out and just grab her hand. It would be a move. It COULD be a move.

Her eyes are focused on your chest, she can tell that you are breathing heavier than before and it makes her mouth run dry. Unsure what to do next she forgets to move and sees you shifting in your chair, a thousand thoughts running through your mind.

Right as you make up your mind and decide to just go for it, there is a loud knock on the door that snaps both of you out of your thoughts. The concierge is finally delivering the bottle that Kathryn had ordered at the bar earlier. She takes it from him and the door closes again, but this time she locks it before turning around. Bottle in hand she walks straight towards the couch and sits in the middle of it, facing you.

Pushing down the feelings that had just bubbled up and ignoring the unpleasant state that your thoughts about her left your underwear in, you fall into an easy conversation once again. She wants to know what you are doing in life, you talk about university and work and she tells you short anecdotes about life on set. It feels like you have always been friends, not that you are now, but the thought of it spreads a warm, very welcome, feeling in your chest.

Kathryn appears to you just like you remember her from interviews and talks you had watched. She is open, charismatic, very funny and whenever it is your turn to talk, her full attention is on you as if you are the only thing that exists in her life in that very moment. It all feels easy and, just like before, you forget about the tension that has built up earlier and fall into a friendly, familiar, atmosphere.

It is around 1.30am and you are way into the second bottle of delicious white wine as she receives a text from her assistant that lets her know she has a last minute meeting for a job to go to in the morning. She shares that information with you and shoots you an apologetic look as she replies to the message to let her assistant know that she is coming. 

“Guess we should finish these glasses and head to bed soon, because those bills certainly don’t pay themselves.“ She says with a sad glint in her eyes. 

You can tell, because during your conversation she had moved closer to your chair again. So close, that your legs would be touching, hadn’t yours been propped up on your chair.

“It’s fine! Don’t worry! You invited me here, so it very much is your call how and when to end the night.”Your mouth was a little faster than your brain could work and you scold yourself immediately for hinting that there was a way to end the night other than simply talking and going to sleep.

You realize how fast she is emptying her glass and a sad wave runs through your body. Overthinking what finishing the glass means, you realize that you, obviously, did not bring any clothes to sleep in.

She must think the same thing, as she looks you up and down. “Sweetheart, do you get cold in your sleep?“

You nod slowly and see the gears turning in her head. “Alright, then how about you just wear what I’m wearing right now - I should've really thought about this sooner and worn something else - and then you should be fine.“

Thankful for the offer, you nod, without thinking it all through, as she gets up to fish her sleeping gear out of her suitcase. You can already tell that it is very short and excitement rushes through your body once again. 

“Would it be okay if I changed while you finish your glass, Y/N?“ she looks at you, clearly needing you to say yes.

“Oh yes! Absolutely! Don’t worry about me. Go do your thing, I’ll finish all up here and then you can get your sleep. I’m fine. Really, don’t mind me.“ You shoot her the brightest smile you can.

While she is in the bathroom, you empty your glass in one sip and proceed to clean up the seating area so she doesn't think you are messy. Right as you finished and find yourself in front of the bathroom door that is close to the table you put the bottles and glasses on, you hear her voice from out of the bathroom.

“Bathroom is free!“ she exclaims as you turn around to face the door. 

Not expecting you to be standing where you are standing, she walks out while checking herself in the mirror once again, which is why she isn’t paying attention to you literally already standing there and runs right into you. She stumbles and threatens to fall, but you grab her and pull her in. 

You should be letting go now, you know that, but embracing her feels too good to be true and she is not moving away, either. Instead, she wraps her arms around you as well and holds onto you. “Thank you for this nice evening, Y/N. It was very good for my heart and I’m glad I found you.“

Words. Any words. You need to say something, ANYTHING. “I… You’re welcome, Kathryn. I don’t know how I deserve this and the pleasure is certainly mine, but I just wanna say,“ you get out of the hug to properly look into her eyes, “I am very thankful. Grateful even. I’ve always dreamt of meeting you and to get to sit and talk with you, even if its just for a couple hours, is more than anything I could’ve ever wished for.“

She smiles and moves forward to plant a small kiss on your cheek. “The pleasure is all mine, Sweetheart.“

Leaving you standing in front of the bathroom door, she quickly moves past you. “Also, thank you for catching me. You really don’t want to see me fall, trust me.“, she says as she slides under the blanket, too fast for you to turn around and take a look at her again.

As the bathroom door closes behind you and you look at yourself in the mirror, it all suddenly sinks in. You are in a hotel room with Kathryn Hahn. THE Kathryn Hahn. She is sitting in bed with (probably) very short clothes on while you are going to wear her comfy attire. You look at the pile she neatly put on the counter for you, grab the shirt and automatically raise it to your face to smell it. Her sent is still lingering in the clothing and you close your eyes as you breath in. 

Shrugging it off you undress and fold your own clothes before putting the shirt and sweatpants on. Looking into the mirror again, you smile at yourself and make the decision to straight up offer to sleep on the couch - out of respect. Not that you think she would offer for you to sleep in bed with her, you just wanted it to come from you.

She is on her phone and the light is dimmed as you walk out of the bathroom. “Hey you.“, she says as she looks you up and down. “Cute.“

You blush and fiddle with your hands before you make your way to the couch she was just sitting on a short while ago. Kathryn doesn’t comment on it, but she gets up and offers you one of the pillows and an additional blanket she grabs from a wardrobe next to the bed. Walking towards you, you get a chance to look her up and down again. 

Her silky shorts are VERY short, exposing her beautiful legs. She is barefoot and moves on the carpet floor without making a sound. Her whole appearance reminds you of an angel and you gratefully take the pillow and blanket out of her hand, as she leans her back on the bed that is high enough to support her like that. She stays there in case you need help with arranging the couch. You don’t, take a step back to appreciate your work and turn around to look at her again. 

Not realizing she was still in the same spot, you find yourself very close the her once again and bite your lip as you try to avoid eye contact. Instead, your eyes travel down to the loose silky tank top she is wearing that exposes way too much skin and your tongue finds its way out of your mouth to wet your lips. She notices.

��Eyes up here, sweetheart.“ A soft chuckle comes out of her mouth as she shakes her head and makes her way back to bed, leaving you in a state of absolute shock.

“Alright, it’s time.“ She waits for you to get comfortable on the couch before she turns the lights of completely, making sure to wish you a good night in the process.

Kathryn didn’t want to make the decision to send you on the couch. Hell, she would’ve loved to hold you close, even though she wasn’t sure if that would've been a good decision, either. She looks at you and where she assumes your head is placed right now, as it is too dark to actually see your face.

You offered to stay on the couch. Out of respect.

She likes that.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Side Effects- Complete

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids (M/F Primary: Y/N x 3racha)

Warnings: Smut, Language, graphic depictions of violence, blood, gore, non-con elements

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Word Count: 13K

Summary:  Y/N just wanted a normal life, attending to her studies while earning the degree she’s always dreamed about. Unfortunately, her funds are running low and she’s increasingly desperate for money until she finds an advertisement online. Although she doesn’t know much about vampires, she decides to take a position as a blood donor to the mysterious Miroh Coven, unaware of the consequences of her fatal decision.

It had been almost six months since the incident. 24 weeks of paranoia, glancing over my shoulder in response to unexpected movements and sounds. 182 days of watching the bruises slowly fade from my skin, dark circles under my eyes gradually succumbing to the much-needed 8 hours of sleep I managed with the assistance of medication and my new roommate who always welcomed me in her bed when the nightmares progressed. Finally, it seemed like things were getting better with each passing day further and further away from the traumatic event that had changed my life forever.

I could now walk by myself at night without the risk of breaking down in the middle of the sidewalk. I could finally keep down the food my roommate prepared for me without the familiar feeling of nausea churning my stomach unpleasantly. I could finally find a job to support myself, working full-time as a Secretary at a company with full benefits and a reliable 401K.

They were gone from my life, taking the pain and suffering along with them. I was better now and I was determined to turn my life around because I was a strong and independent woman who should’ve known better. But I had been desperate back then, working through my college degree while my savings account was slowly drained. I wouldn’t be able to finance my Senior year and the idea of giving up on my education so close to the finish line had almost broken me in half.

That’s when I first saw the advertisement, promoted through Google’s convoluted Adword system. It was like an answer to my prayers, everything that I had been searching for wrapped up neatly with a handy URL link that took me straight to the source. I remember reading the advertisement with greedy eyes, unhesitating when I clicked on the “Apply Now” button:

ATTN:

Looking for a reliable blood donor for an estate of 8 young men belonging to the Miroh Coven. Preferably female with a blood type of O negative. Please send in an application ASAP.

Vampires weren’t uncommon in our society, though the government had heavily restricted their creation since a dramatic increase in population. Now, the government required notification if a Coven planned to initiate a new member. It was all a dramatic affair meant to prevent fledgling vampires who were more prone to violence and chaos. Of course, there was the occasional rogue who turned humans against their will simply because they couldn’t handle their blood-lust. However, more often than not, Coven leaders knew how to keep their members under control.

Blood donors were also not uncommon. Covens often hired several different donors to keep around when they required access to fresh blood. It was a practice that was initially met with hesitance from the greater public, but when Vampires proved they could handle themselves better around a reliable blood source, the government gradually acquiesced.

I had never given much thought to Vampires or Blood Donors until I saw the advertisement. More specifically, until I saw the amount of money this Coven, in particular, was willing to pay for their donor. It would be enough to pay my college tuition and keep money in my savings account to pay for rent and food. Since the new semester was rapidly approaching, I needed to pay for tuition immediately and provide a deposit for an on-campus apartment.

In hindsight, it was probably a foolish idea to jump headfirst into the application without doing proper research. Case in point, questioning just exactly why this obviously wealthy and established Clan needed a blood donor immediately. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve hesitated at the obvious sense of urgency behind the advertisement. I might have wondered what happened to the Clan’s previous Donor, but I was simply enraptured by the dollar signs and refused to consider that this could be a very bad decision.

It only took a few days before I received a notice on the application, requesting an interview at the Miroh Clan’s address. I remember feeling excited by the opportunity, dressing in my best slacks and blouse. I drove with barely constrained enthusiasm, singing along to the ridiculous pop song playing on the radio even though I really preferred classical music. But this was a special occasion and I was potentially meeting with someone who could change my life and allow me to finish the remainder of my education in luxury.

“Tuition is due this Friday,” I reminded myself, gaping at the giant Mansion gated in circumference by an ancient wrought-iron fence. “Remember to tell them you can start immediately, Y/N.”

I checked my make-up in the rear-view mirror before opening the door, heels clicking obnoxiously against the sidewalk. My first impression was rapidly becoming something like a passage from Bram Stoker’s Dracula as I ascended the steps to the front gate, smashing my finger against the button on the elaborate security system. The gate opened without warning and I jumped back in surprise, hand fanning against my chest as my heart nearly skipped a beat or two in my chest. “Relax, Y/N,” I said, smoothing down my slacks.

Despite it’s older appearance, it was obvious that the grounds of the Mansion were well-kept and I took note of the elaborate display of hydrangea’s lining the walkway to the front door. I presumed the Miroh Coven likely hired someone to do the work for them, especially since it was a known fact that Vampires generally disliked the sunlight as it bothered their enhanced senses. In any case, I was prepared to meet a bunch of older men who had perhaps lost their last client to old age or something. Instead, the man who opened the front door looked like he could attend the same University as me. Dressed impeccably in a dark mahogany suit, the man straightened his tie before offering me a relaxed smile. “Y/N?”

I nodded my head, trying not to react to the sight of his sharp incisors glinting menacingly in the light. “My name is Bang Chan,” he said, offering me an outstretched hand. “I’m the leader of the Miroh Coven.”

I shook his hand cautiously, aware of the strength in his arms highlighted by the bulging veins visible from the upturned aspect of his shirt sleeves. “Nice to meet you,” I said, recovering from the unexpected appearance of my potential benefactor. I had not anticipated meeting someone so obviously young.

“Come inside,” he said, opening the door further to welcome me into the shadowed hallways of the Miroh Mansion.

Present

“What else will you do?” my roommate asked with a pout.

I continued to read my book, far more concerned with the fate of my beloved heroine as opposed to my roommate’s desire to find free alcohol. “This,” I said, reclining further back against the comfortable stretch of pillows.

“Y/N,” my roommate chastised me softly. “I know why you don’t want to go and they’re just gonna win if you keep insisting.”

I tensed at her words, fingers mangling the corners of the pages. My roommate knew everything about my last situation because she was often the recipient of my screams when the familiar nightmares flooded my dreams. “They already won,” I grumbled. “I can’t even watch a vampire movie without losing my mind.”

“Are you afraid they’ll find you?” my roommate asked. “They’re thousands of miles away and you haven’t seen them for months.”

“Seven months,” I informed her curtly.  “And I’d like to go for eight.”

“Y/N,” my roommate groaned. “You told me that you used to love parties.”

“I know,” I said. “Maybe someday I’ll go out with you, but for now this is the best way I can cope.”

My roommate nodded, messing with something in her bag before approaching me on high heels that were just bordering on too tall. “Here, I found this is the laundry room.”

I held out my hand absent-mindlessly, not really considering what she had given me until I pulled my attention away from the book. When I finally realized what it was, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen followed by a wave of nausea that left me tossing my book to the side before bolting for the bathroom. “Y/N!” my roommate called my name, but I was already expelling the contents of my stomach, groaning from the sickness.

Because the item now discarded next to me was his necklace and I could have sworn I threw it out with their other gifts when I finally attained my freedom from their clutches…

I was completely spent, lungs still seeking additional oxygen and legs sore from where they were wrapped around his. Chan was always rough when he was feeling particularly possessive, hands determined to bruise every inch of my skin along with the deep marks from his fangs. He had taken a lot of blood and despite the offered chocolate now discarded on the side table, I was incredibly light-headed.

“Y/N,” Chan said, fingers tracing a rather nasty bite mark he had left on my shoulder. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?” It was difficult, but I managed to turn my head enough to meet his gaze, startled by how red his eyes glowed under the influence of fresh blood. Chan’s fingers traced along the edges of my lips, forcefully inserting themselves inside and I managed enough strength to lightly tongue my way across the tips. He shivered at that, removing his hand before reaching behind him for the gorgeous necklace I had noticed briefly on his nightstand before he had pushed my face into the mattress. “For you,” he said, helping me into a sitting position so that he could clasp the chain around my neck, golden pendant hanging heavy between the dips of my collarbones. “Perfect,” he soothed into my ear, growling around a husky “mine” before he was kissing a trail down the side of my arm.

Present

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache that only responded to three painkillers washed down with a glass of cold water. It was a Saturday which meant I had the day off from work and I couldn’t be more grateful. After last night’s incident, I had finally managed to convince my roommate to go out and have fun while I dropped onto my bed with a heavy sigh. The only way I could calm myself down was by repeating assurances that I must have forgotten Chan’s necklace in the small bonfire I had made of the expensive things they had bought for me. It must have gotten stuck in the bottom of my pocket which explains its presence in the laundry room. There was simply no other explanation. But a shiver still ran its way down my spine when I recalled the way Chan had looked at me before I bolted out the front door. “I will always find you,” he had snarled the warning before I was lost into the unforgiving darkness of the night.

I ran home from the hospital, throwing my belongings into a suitcase before booking a one-way trip back home, far away from these horrible monsters who I had willingly entertained for the past year of my life. The only positive was the fact that I had graduated which meant I was in no way expected to stick around any longer. Instead, I uprooted up my life and moved back home where I felt safer, finding my current roommate who willingly offered me her unused second bedroom. I could’ve afforded to live alone, but there’s no way that I could manage a solitary arrangement without losing my mind. And I didn’t have my parents because I was far too prideful to crawl back to them considering the unfortunate way our last encounter had ended when my father told me that I could never amount to anything on my own.

They wanted me to attend a local community college before marrying the son of my dad’s business partner to demonstrate loyalty between the two brands. There was no way I would allow my parents to strip away something that belonged exclusively to me. My mother had ranted all night long when I missed my scheduled reservation, telling me that no boy would ever want me. I wish she had been right because I might have avoided the eight consecutive nightmares who entered my life one by one with every intent of bringing me down.

Regardless, I couldn’t change the past if I wanted to focus on the future, and I was doing well for myself these days without my parents or the Miroh Coven. I was assured that I could get through this unpleasant stage of my life because I had every intention of rising through the ranks. My dream was to open my own business one day and marry someone who could show me both love and respect. Because that was what was missing when I served the Miroh Coven. They might have insisted that they loved me, but they certainly held no respect for the woman they wanted to enslave, especially Jisung.

In fact, Han Jisung might have been the worst of the three brothers. You see, Chan’s claim as a leader only went as far as legalities required, having someone’s name down to attribute ownership. But Chan was just as much leader as Jisung and Changbin. The three brothers were thicker than thieves, having grown up together in a despicable orphanage when they were younger. They weren’t bound by blood, but by something much stronger. When they were turned by an older vampire who envisioned them as perfect little soldiers, they decided that they were owed something for all the years of torment they endured. They turned against their sire, freeing themselves from his control, before forming their own tight-knit clan to claim. Throughout the years, they lived in the Miroh Mansion while forming their very own elaborate enterprise and becoming very wealthy in the process. One of the very first things they did as CEOs was to tear down the orphanage they hated and replace it with one of their office buildings. Next, they tracked down everyone that had ever mistreated them, writing down the names in a disheveled notebook that I had discovered one night in Jisung’s nightstand. Some of the names had already been marked out, but there were still so many left, and I didn’t realize at the time what exactly I was holding in my hands until it was too late.

I shivered at the memory, trying to will it away, but it was already forcing itself to play out again in my mind with perfect clarity:

1 Year Ago

To save costs on ridiculous surcharges, and to make things easier for the coven, I had recently moved into the Miroh Mansion with my eight benefactors. They cleaned a room for me on the top floor where Chan, Changbin, and Jisung also lived in relative peace. The eight of them had been thrilled when I agreed to their proposal, talking nonstop about our new situation. Of course, I didn’t intend for it to hold any sort of permanence, but I didn’t dare speak out against Felix because the younger boy had a vicious temper and lashed out violently when things didn’t go his way.

Nevertheless, I quickly settled in with the others and their regular routine. I came to discover that Chan, Changbin, and Jisung were often missing throughout the day, but I figured it had something to do with their business. As for the others, Hyunjin spent a lot of time in the attic where he had attempted to recreate a dance studio, often requesting that I sit and watch him as he moved to the gentle music playing from an older record player. Sometimes, Felix joined him too, but for the most part, Felix liked to play with the younger boys, Seungmin and Jeongin, in their rooms or in mine. They loved video games and I remember countless hours spent playing with the three of them as they giggled and laughed like the harmless school boys I once believed them to be. Occasionally, Minho liked to poke his head in when we were being too loud, scolding us because he was concentrating on his newest art project.

But the mood shifted considerably once Chan, Changbin, and Jisung came home. Immediately, the other vampires would rush downstairs to greet the brothers. It was the same occurrence every night and I was ignorant at first until I finally mustered the courage to ask Chan why they were so eager to see them. The older man had chuckled at me. “We’re their sires, Y/N. They experience a lot of discomfort without us around.”

“Sires?”

Chan explained the concept to me patiently. “Seungmin and Jeongin are sired to me and Hyunjin and Felix are sired to Changbin.”

“And Minho is sired to Jisung,” I said and Chan had smiled at me proudly like I had just discovered something profound.

“When we come home, it’s important that we reinforce our bond. Otherwise, some very bad things might happen.”

I had nodded like that made perfect sense to me. I was really tired and wanted to simply crawl into Chan’s arms and fall asleep. Chan had realized my intentions, holding me close while running his fingers through the messy strands of my air.

The next evening, Jisung summoned me into his bedroom. “I’m hungry, little one,” he said, drawing me onto the bed to slowly strip me out of my clothes. The very first-time Jisung had attempted to remove my shirt, I freaked out and demanded to know why it was necessary. Jisung had smiled, a cunning manipulative behavior that I hadn’t fully realized at the time. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes.”

Of course, his intentions became evident as our sessions increased and I finally gave in and let Jisung fuck me because it did feel really good when he was inside while drawing far too much blood from my carotid artery. It became just another part of our routine, Jisung drawing me into his bed before sliding his cock inside before biting viciously on the side of my neck. I moaned from under him, focusing on the way his cock slid in and out as opposed to the dizziness I was experiencing from losing too much blood at once. Jisung only stopped when I orgasmed, tightening around his cock before he emptied himself between my legs, pressing sweet kisses to my chest before pulling his flaccid length out of my sensitive opening.

“Sleep,” he whispered close to my ear. I whined because I hated it when he left me alone after sex.

“Sungie,” I said, trying to get his attention. I was incredibly drowsy, fighting against every desire to close my eyes.

Jisung chuckled, entertaining my wandering hands. “I have business that requires my attention and you need to rest for me.”

I watched through lidded eyes as Jisung opened his nightstand, drawing out an unfamiliar notebook. He grabbed a loose pen from the organizer on his desk before scratching something out against the paper. Afterward, the notebook was returned to its previous location before Jisung was silently escaping the bedroom. I groaned loudly at the soreness in my neck, massaging the tender skin before allowing myself the sleep I deserved.

It felt like minutes before an unexpected scream pierced through the walls, startling me into consciousness. I jolted up in my bed, far too quickly for my poor body which was still recovering from Jisung’s feeding. I shook my head to clear the black spots, opening them again only for my eyes to latch onto Jisung’s nightstand. I swallowed hard, curiosity getting the better of me as I slowly pulled on the drawer’s handle.

The notebook wasn’t very large but I could tell it was old and well-used. I slowly opened the first page, frowning as I read the unfamiliar names listed in random order. A few of them had been carefully blacked out, indecipherable now that they had been clearly forgotten. I was growing distracted by the names, trying to piece together the mysterious puzzle, when another noisy scream reminded me why I had been so suddenly disturbed. Carefully, I returned the notebook to its home, slipping on a pair of slippers before leaving Jisung’s bedroom.

The hallways were dark and empty with no other sounds alerting me to the unexpected scream that had previously penetrated my drowsiness. I started down the familiar purple carpets, holding tightly to the railing as I descended the grand staircase. It was then that I noticed light spilling from a crack in the door leading to the basement. I had never been down there before, warned explicitly by Chan to never enter that room. But his warning did nothing to assuage my curiosity, so I ignored the alarms going off in the back of my head before reaching out for the door.

There were several voices now, clearly audible, attempting to speak over one another. It sounded like an argument as I started down the stairs, frowning when I smelled something that reminded me distinctly of a sharp metallic odor. “It’s fine,” I heard Jisung’s voice growl and I paused in my steps, wondering if I would get in trouble for interrupting.

“So messy,” Chan spoke now, clearly irritated. “I thought you planned better than this.”

“I did,” Jisung said. “Consider the girl an added bonus.”

I didn’t like the way they were talking, continuing my trek into the basement until I could finally see the three brothers standing together. But I immediately regretted my decision, covering the scream threatening to rip itself free from my chest as I discovered the corpses hanging from the ceiling. It was a disgusting sight, limbs dismembered and lying out across the floor. There was blood everywhere, covering Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, thick and revolting in the way it stained the concrete floors. I instinctively took a step back, wincing when the stair creaked under my weight. Almost immediately, three pairs of eyes turned in my direction and I fell backward in my haste to retreat.

Chan was on me in an instant, cursing when his touch forced a loud scream to pierce the silence of the room. “Relax, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing my shoulders despite my thrashing. He forced me to meet his eyes and the influence of his power was enough to render me unconscious once again.

Present

“You look beautiful today, Y/N.”

I blushed, of course, from Mark’s tender compliment. “Thank you,” I managed sheepishly, watching as my boss offered me a cheeky smile before entering his office.

Ever since I left the Miroh Coven, I had been working a part-time position as the Secretary to a wealthy CEO. I didn’t mind my job, enjoying the menial tasks I was usually instructed to obey. It was quite mind-numbing, a worthy distraction when I first started working here hollowing the horrors I had endured from the Miroh Coven. The pay was excellent and I was able to help my roommate afford rent while reliably buying myself luxuries like a new mattress or a fresh wardrobe since my old clothes reminded me too much of the past.

The hours were also minimal, and I often found myself sitting down at my desk only to look up at the clock and realize my day had already concluded. Subsequently, I was able to leave the office on time every day to join the steady stream of afternoon traffic. Afterward, I might stop by a restaurant to pick up something for dinner, or occasionally drive through the downtown marketplace because I enjoyed shopping for fresh produce. It was all quite nice and I enjoyed settling into my new life with a deep sigh of relief.

It had almost been nine months since I last saw any of the boys and other than the unfortunate encounter with Chan’s necklace, I was sure that I would never have to experience anything so unattractive ever again. I was slowly regaining my confidence, joining my roommate several times when she wanted to see a movie or shop at one of the outdoor malls. Everything was starting to work out for me, which meant that I was also starting to comfortably take more risks.

“Please have fun tonight,” my roommate said, practically dragging me along with her as we entered one of her favorite clubs. After much convincing, I had finally given in and allowed my roommate to take me out late at night for drinks and dancing. “This is a nice place,” she said, leading me to the bar. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

I nodded my head, looking around the relaxed atmosphere. It was certainly a much tamer club than what I was used to visiting, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Of course, the influence of alcohol had a way of making a person far more willing to lower their defenses. “One glass,” I said, accepting the fruity beverage from the bartender before my roommate and I found a table near the edge of the dance-floor.

“So many handsome faces,” my roommate remarked. “Interested in anyone?”

I scoffed at her question because I seriously doubted that I would willingly jump into a new relationship anytime soon. “Really?”

“Just wondering,” my roommate shrugged, drinking down the remainder of her scotch. “Wanna dance?”

I waved her off, deciding that I was okay with enjoying my drink at our table. My roommate let out a giggle, locking eyes with a suave businessman who looked ready to devour her whole. “I’ll check on you soon,” she promised and I quickly lost her in the mass of bodies occupying the dance floor.

I rolled my eyes because I knew better than to expect my roommate’s return. Instead, I sipped at my drink while admiring the friendly atmosphere of the bar, neon colors dazzling in my peripheral vision. It reminded me of my younger college days when I was swept away by the illusion of freedom which independent adulthood offered, attending every frat party I could find.

I grinned at the memories, feeling way too old to try anything like that ever again. It was fun once, being so irresponsible, but now it was time to start paying bills and scratch my head when I attempted to do my taxes. Freedom was addicting, and I could see why so many younger people were enamored with the idea of moving away from home and conquering the world.

Wistfully, I must digress because I often lose myself in my thoughts, and I can’t afford a break in concentration. Instead, I sipped tentatively at my drink, watching the moving sea of bodies. I was entirely focused, which allowed me to raise my guard at the approach of an unfamiliar figure.

“Excuse me? Do you have the time?”

I shrugged loosely because it was an innocent request from someone who clearly wasn’t looking for anything ill-intended. On instinct, I reached into my bag to grab my phone. “It’s almost midnight,” I said, thinking that our interaction would be short-lived.

Instead, the man was insistent, a cold hand digging harshly against my shoulder. “Don’t you know that it’s dangerous to stay up so late, sweetheart?”

The accent had been disguised, but now I recognized it thick and heavy in my ear. I couldn’t even remember to scream before his hand was enclosed over my mouth, teeth nipping at my jaw. Another body slipped into my roommate’s chair, brows raised as he reached for her discarded glass. “Is there room for some company, Y/N?” Jisung asked, blonde hair hanging low in his eyes.

I shook my head desperately, fresh tears clouding my vision. “Where are your manners, sweetheart?” Chan asked with a harsh tone and I was suddenly jerked to the side, a strong hand holding my chin into place.

“What a coincidence, Y/N,” Changbin growled. “We have unfinished business in this little town of yours.”

“You’re coming with us,” Chan said, ignoring the way I fought against him as he practically forced me out of my chair. “Look at me,” he snarled, eyes trained on mine as I started to drift out of consciousness.

I was slowly starting to realize that the implications of being a sire went far beyond just simply turning someone immortal. For example, I knew how cruel Changbin could be, turning violent on a whim, especially if you disobeyed him. He was the one who liked to punish me when he thought I was being bad, dragging out all sorts of special toys to use against my body. Paddles and lashes, whips and spikes, everything Changbin needed was lined perfectly along the walls of the special room he had decorated for himself whenever he wanted to play with someone. He was a sadist in every sense of the word, enjoying the sensation of watching someone suffer for his own pleasure. When he had first brought me into the room, I had immediately protested, close to tears when Changbin had cooed at me and insisted that I would never be forced to do anything outside of my comfort zone. He spoke with a wicked tongue, dark eyes revealing the truth if I had been so willing to look for it, but I eventually allowed him to have his way with me. Tears streaming freely down the side of my face while Changbin’s tongue traced the salty rivulets with a groan.

But Changbin wasn’t the only one with a fiery temper and desire for pain and suffering. His fledgling vampires, Felix and Hyunjin, had decisively taken on his more brutal aspects. Felix lost control whenever I said something to offend him, growling out insults while I tried to avoid his hands. Hyunjin had special permission to use Changbin’s secret room to explore his own masochism, and I had accidentally wandered into one of his sessions at the beginning of our arrangement before things had turned sexual between us. I remember the look of existential terror on the girl’s face that I had foolishly misplaced as pleasure, crying out not in ecstasy but in pain.

On the other hand, Jisung was the manipulative and cunning brother who thought out everything instead of living on a whim according to his pleasures. It was this same trait that I discovered in Minho who also shared Jisung’s tendency to plan out his movements. The only difference between them was that Minho was silent in his execution while Jisung was loud in letting everyone know that he had gotten his way.

Finally, there was Bang Chan, the legal leader of the Miroh Coven. Chan was the last of the brothers to attempt a siring bond because he had never found the right person. I would never know for sure why Seungmin and Jeongin were “the right people,” but Chan doted on them in every sense of the word. He treasured them like they were his possessions, buying them expensive clothes and allowing them leeway when their bloodlust tended to get the best of them. It was up to the sire to teach their fledglings how to properly drink blood from a source, but Chan had decided not to blink an eye when Seungmin or Jeongin accidentally took things a step too far.

Just like Chan, Seungmin and Jeongin were also extremely possessive, especially when they considered something to belong exclusively to them. I can only wish that I had noticed sooner, the way the three of them liked to leave their marks on me in various ways, whether it be through a harsh bite or buying me something nice and insisting that I wear it at all times. Seungmin and Jeongin were also dangerous because there had been times when I felt like I was on death’s door, feeling them drink my blood like they would never stop.

Sadly, I thought I had escaped all of that, so imagine the utter sense of dread crippling my entire body when I woke up to see Chan, Changbin, and Jisung standing over me as they watched me slowly awaken. Chan was the first to react, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he appraised me. “Sweetheart,” he said and a shiver ran down my spine. “Don’t you know how worried we were when you ran away from us like that?”

My lower lip trembled and I bit down on it hard. “I couldn’t stay.”

“Why not?” Chan asked, looking every bit as patient as I remembered.

“You hurt people,” I whispered. “And you hurt me too.”

“Hurt you?” Chan huffed, a look of annoyance masking his features. “We protected you and cared for you, sweetheart.”

“You belong to us,” Jisung said, gaze cold as he watched me from afar.

I sniffled, slowly losing my last shred of pride as I tried not to cry in front of these horrible vampires. His words reminded me of the night I left, rushing out into the streets with blood covering my body. “I don’t have to work for you anymore,” I said.

Changbin growled. “The arrangement meant more than that, Y/N.”

“We love you,” Chan said, reaching for my hands and I didn’t have the strength to fight him. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

I was crying now, triggered by the all-too-familiar words spoken 9 months ago when I entered the Miroh Mansion for the final time.

Eight Months Ago

Jeongin was still young enough to celebrate his birthday, and the rest of the Clan had decided that nothing was too good for their precious youngest member. I remember going shopping with Chan, buying party decorations without any consideration for how much it would cost them. Earlier that week, Jisung and I had visited the bakery to order Jeongin a custom-made birthday cake, including a cheesy message at the bottom to commemorate the occasion. Everyone was in good spirits and I had finally stopped thinking about the bodies in their basement, believing Jisung when he told me that they had been donated to the Miroh Clan to use as a source of fresh blood. “It sometimes happens,” Jisung said. “Whenever there’s an accident and nobody claims the bodies, they send them here for us to use.”

It was an extremely unreasonable explanation but I refused to believe anything else in an attempt to protect myself from the truth. I was determined to move past it, forcing myself to smile at Jisung’s cheesy jokes or Chan’s attempts to make me laugh. I must have been a good actor because they stopped hovering around me at every possible opportunity, watching me like they were waiting for me to bolt out the door and never return.

“Y/N!” Jeongin had said, jumping into my bed to wake me up that morning. “Guess what?” he giggled, adorable face mere inches from my own.

“Hmmm?” I wondered, smirking as he practically beamed with excitement.

“It’s my birthday,” Jeongin said. “I’m supposed to be 40-years-old today!”

“Congratulations,” I snickered, deciding that it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.

“Will you come play with me and Felix?” Jeongin asked. “We can do whatever we want until Chan gets home.”

That’s another thing I had noticed about the fledglings. They never really liked to talk about anyone except for their sired master. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would think that Jeongin had no idea that Jisung and Changbin even existed. “Okay,” I said. “Let me take a shower first.”

Jeongin allowed me to get ready in peace and quiet, and I enjoyed the feeling of the water scalding my skin as I stood under the faucet for far longer than normal. Afterward, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, finding Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin in Minho’s room, arguing over who would join teams. I yawned when I entered, wary of the way Minho was watching me from his bed, legs stretched out in front of him as his eyes followed me all the way to where Felix was holding out my controller.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon with the younger boys, ignoring Minho completely as I let Jeongin win several times even though I was much better at Street Fighter. “Finally,” Jeongin exclaimed, racing for the door before I could question him.

“Chan’s home,” Minho informed me, holding out a hand which I reluctantly accepted, trying not to react when Minho leaned in to press his lips against my delicate pulse point.

Downstairs, all of the vampires were busy setting up Jeongin’s party. Streamers hung from the overhead banisters and balloons floated mindlessly through the room as Chan hugged Jeongin tightly against his chest. “Were you a good boy today?” he asked the youngest who nodded enthusiastically in response.

“Y/N,” Jisung called my name. “Help me in the kitchen.”

I obeyed immediately, finding Jisung situating candles on top of the cake we had purchased earlier that week. I was struck by the normalcy of the situation, standing next to Jisung as he instructed me to start boiling a pot of water. Apparently, despite their delicate diets, on special occasions, the Vampires could enjoy human food and Jeongin’s favorite was being prepared for him.

It was chaotic in the Mansion as everyone attended to their various responsibilities, amusing little Jeongin who flitted from person to person. Although, more often than not, Jeongin stuck close to Chan’s side, talking to his sire about all the nuances of his day. Chan listened patiently, nodding along as he finished the elaborate ribbon around one of Jeongin’s birthday presents. “Is everyone ready?”

We all stood together in the kitchen, singing for Jeongin who was vibrating from head to toe. He blew out the candles and beamed at the accompanying applause. “Happy birthday, Jeongin,” I said, allowing him to pull me into an impossibly strong grip.

Meanwhile, the other vampires slowly congregated into the living room where Jeongin’s presents were waiting for him. “Y/N,” Chan said, holding me back as Jeongin raced out of the kitchen. “Help me carry these drinks.”

I wrinkled my nose because they were obviously filled with blood. Nonetheless, I obeyed diligently, accepting one of the trays before following Chan into the crowded foyer. “Channie!” Jeongin said, holding up a delicate pocket watch. “It’s so nice!”

Chan smiled warmly at Jeongin, ruffling his hair playfully as he started handing out the glasses. Changbin grabbed me by the hips as I passed in front of him, pulling me into his lap as he took a sip from his glass. “It’s not as good as yours,” he teased, lips scarlet from the liquid.

I chose not to respond to his comment, trying to relax against his body. “Y/N,” Chan said before handing me a glass. I studied it cautiously while I gingerly took the glass from him.

“What is it?”

“Just some wine,” Chan shrugged indifferently and I nodded before trying a sip of the beverage. Almost immediately, I winced at the taste and Changbin chuckled at my obvious aversion.

“It was very expensive,” he lightly chastised me and I tried not to notice the smell as I forced more of the wine down my throat.

Meanwhile, Jeongin continued to open more of his gifts, expressing his gratitude towards each of his older members as he tried on various pieces of clothing and jewelry. When he finally got to my present, he shot me a mischievous smirk. “Y/N…”

“Open it,” I encouraged him.

Jeongin needed no further encouragement, ripping through the wrapping paper before discovering the portable gaming system tucked neatly in the box it once came in. “For you to practice,” I said, pleased at his grateful expression. It was an older system that once belonged to my brother, but I didn’t have a need for it, and Jeongin talked relentlessly about how cool it would be to play the older versions of the games he loved.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

I was warmed by his genuine reaction, feeling nothing but affection for the boy. “You’re welcome.”

“What a good girl,” Changbin said, tipping my glass back against my lips. “You shouldn’t waste it.”

I narrowed my eyes, wondering why he really cared about how expensive the wine cost. After all, these were the same men who brought new things into the house every day after flashing their shiny credit cards at whichever cashier had the privilege of accommodating their requests. Still, I knew better than to upset Changbin, especially on poor Jeongin’s birthday, so I downed the rest of the nasty drink before placing the glass down on the side table. “Shall we watch a movie?” Jisung asked, eyes glinting rather maniacally as he studied my discarded drink.

“Please!” Jeongin chirped. “Something scary.”

I hated the idea of watching a horror movie, but I couldn’t protest when everyone else was in total agreement for once. Instead, I followed the rest of the boys into the main living room, resisting a sigh when Chan drug me down next to him on the sectional. “Whatever you want, Jeongin,” Jisung said, tossing the younger the remote control.

“Dracula!” Jeongin declared, an amusing pick perhaps if these Vampires were less violent.

But my opinion held no weight and the film began while Felix turned off the lights. Bathed in darkness, I resisted the urge to curl in tighter against Chan as I tried not to think about the film playing on-screen. Everyone else was comfortable, settled in their usual pairs which meant Minho was sitting between Jisung’s legs while Felix and Hyunjin flanked Changbin on either side. Seungmin and Jeongin sat close to me and Chan as they watched the television with wide, eager eyes.

I tried to turn off my mind, focusing on a distant spot beyond the edge of the screen. It worked for a while, keeping my mind occupied away from the movie playing in the background. In fact, I might have managed to survive the rest of the evening had it not been for Chan whose lips were suddenly brushing along the length of my neck.

I immediately flinched away. “What are you doing?” I whispered, unrelenting when his hand wrapped around the back of my head to force me into place.

“I’m hungry,” he smirked against my exposed skin, teeth sharp against my delicate flesh.

“Why now?” I said, looking over at the others because there was no way they couldn’t hear the two of us.

“Just one bite,” Chan said and I rolled my eyes but bared my neck for him, hoping he would be fast about the unexpected ordeal. He was quick to adjust me on his lap, fixing our positions to his liking. Chan’s teeth penetrated my skin gently and I could feel his mouth latch on tightly as he started to drink from me. I tried not to react, glancing away at the other members who were still watching the movie. With the exception of Changbin, who was looking at me with a dangerous smirk that immediately alerted me to the fact that something was terribly wrong.

As the seconds ticked away, I realized that Chan had no intention of stopping and my instincts kicked in as the storm of anxiety registered throughout my slowly weakening body. I jerked away from Chan who must have been caught off-guard, blood spraying into the air around us as the wound had not been properly closed. But my decision proved to be a necessary distraction because Jeongin and Seungmin both immediately reacted to the intense smell, teeth bared as they sought the source of the blood coating the furniture and my clothes. I managed to dodge Jeongin as he jumped at me first, colliding into Chan to send them both falling back into the floor.

With my hand pressed against my neck, I started for the front door, aware of Changbin closing in behind me. But the older boy was unprepared for Seungmin’s attack whose instincts probably insisted that someone was trying to steal his fresh supply of blood. Changbin let out a grunt as he wrestled with a feral Seungmin, receiving help from Felix and Hyunjin who were trying to protect their sire. Through the haze clouding my eyes, I could see Jisung holding back Minho whose sharpened incisors were cutting deeply into the thin skin of his lips. “You belong to us!” Jisung snarled.

“We can be together forever,” Chan said, still distracted by a wild Jeongin whose dark eyes were starting to look very unfamiliar. It was only then that I realized I had been tricked. They had been trying to turn me without my permission. The expensive wine Changbin insisted I drink must have been someone’s blood because when a human died with vampire blood in their system…

I forced those thoughts away, deciding it was far more important to focus on escaping, and the feral vampires provided the perfect distraction. I managed to make it out onto the street, finding my car parked at the sidewalk. I started the ignition, blasting cold air through the vents to keep me conscious as I pulled out onto the main road. Blood was still pouring steadily from my wound when I stopped next to the Emergency room entrance, ignoring a nearby policeman who was clearly displeased that I was blocking the road before I finally succumbed to the darkness with a grateful sigh.

Present

What have they done? I questioned immediately when I realized that I was back in my regular bedroom the following morning. The normality of the situation should’ve been impossible because I was certain that Chan, Jisung, and Changbin had inexplicably decided to hold me hostage after finding me at that stupid club. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

However, no matter how much I tried to make sense of the preceding night’s events, I couldn’t understand why they would allow me to leave after making such promises to turn me. I don’t recall escaping, especially considering my weakened condition, which meant that the three men had brought me back to my apartment on their own accord. I mean, was this just another attempt to mess with me?

I glanced over at my nightstand, discovering a faded envelope sitting on top of my cell phone. I decided to check my messages first, relieved when I saw my roommate’s contact name. She had apparently spent the night with someone she met at the bar, but she assured me that she was safe and would be home later after work. I was glad that she was fairing better than her roommate, and I turned my attention to the envelope. The handwriting on the front was familiar, and I gently tore through the sealed contents. Inside was a folded letter, and my hands were shaking when I smoothed out the paper to comprehend the brief message written in perfect cursive:

Y/N,

Although our reunion was postponed, please accept this invitation on behalf of the Miroh Coven for your company tonight at 8:00 pm sharp.

Sincerely,

Bang Chan

What did he mean by postponing our reunion?

Unfortunately, I had no time to try and figure it out because the buzzing sound of our doorbell abruptly pulled me out of bed, and I wordlessly tucked the envelope inside my pocket. My roommate and I never received visitors, and there was a small part of me that feared for the possibility that one of the Miroh Coven members was waiting outside in the hallway. Yet, when I searched through the door viewer, I realized that a uniformed police officer was carefully sorting through a file of paperwork in her hands.

“Hello?” I asked cautiously, opening the door just enough to acknowledge the unfamiliar woman.

“Y/N?” the officer questioned.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Officer Smith. I have a few questions for you concerning your previous employer,” the officer said and I was left shaking from head to toe as I allowed her to come inside.

“Do you have somewhere we could sit down?” she asked, and I nodded curtly before leading us both in the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I asked, crowding around the machine in the kitchen.

“That would be nice.”

We were both silent while I served the warm beverage, holding my mug tightly between my hands. “Do you want any creamer?”

“I’m fine,” the officer said. “I just want you to be comfortable. There’s some very troubling things I want to talk to you about.”

“I see,” I nodded, looking intently at the file she had brought with her.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation,” she continued. “It concerns the Miroh Coven. According to our records, you were previously employed with them as a blood donor.”

“Yes, but I was forced to leave.”

“Oh?”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Well, I want you to know that they’re in a lot of trouble,” the officer explained. “We found the body of a young woman on the side of the highway completely drained of blood. When we ran her license, we discovered that she had been employed by the Miroh Coven as a blood donor during the past few months. However, when we asked the Coven about her employment, they told us a very similar story about...a disagreement.”

I shivered despite the heat from the liquid trailing down my throat. “I just...I had a lot of trouble with balancing my college lectures with their schedule. It was very demanding.”

“Of course,” the officer said, but she still wore a look of suspicion. “Normally, we might be inclined to attribute these kinds of things to a rogue attack, but there’s just too many factors that coincide with this case.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, we’ve been unable to contact their previous employees, with the exception of yourself,” the officer explained. “It seems like the Miroh Coven has a history of making their employees disappear without a trace, and I find it very problematic that the young lady we found yesterday had clearly suffered at the hands of a vampire.”

“How many other employees have they had?”

“Quite a few,” the officer said. “I think there’s something bigger going on, and I really need for you to be honest with me, Y/N, because you might be able to help us stop them.”

I swallowed hard. “You think they killed those other donors.”

“It’s very likely,” she said. “Can you tell me anything else about your resignation?”

I found it impossible to make eye contact with the officer, especially when I could still remember everything that had happened the night I left the Miroh Coven. My intention had always been to forget about those terrible circumstances because I was determined to move forward with my life, but all those other ill-fated donors suddenly made it very difficult to remain silent. “They were always nice to me,” I said. “We had a reasonable arrangement because they paid for my schooling and even let me live with them to assuage the cost of on-campus housing. It helped me finish school, but it was always meant to be a temporary arrangement.”

“I understand,” she nodded. “Did they know you were planning to leave?”

“No, but they were keeping secrets from me too,” I said. “A lot of strange things happened when I was living at the mansion.”

“Like?”

“One night, I found a pair of bodies in the basement, but Jisung told me that they were donated...” I trailed off with a choked whimper. “They were also planning to turn me into one of them.”

“Did they tell you this?”

“I guess I didn’t have the right to know,” I said. “I escaped that night and drove myself to the hospital. After that, I moved back here and tried to forget about everything that happened.”

“I understand that it was traumatic for you,” the officer said. “I’m sorry you had to bring it up again.”

I shook my head. “If they’re hurting other people, then I don’t mind the pain.”

The officer sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Have they tried to contact you since then?”

“Yeah,” I sniffled, reaching into my pocket to retrieve the folded letter. “They actually found me at a bar the other night, but they let me go for some reason. I found this letter on my nightstand.”

The officer read over the simple message and frowned. “Were you planning on meeting them tonight?”

“I don’t want to see them ever again.”

“Interesting,” the officer said. “It seems like they really like you.”

“They always told me that,” I said, remembering their whispered words of affection while sharp teeth penetrated my skin.

“I’m going to be completely transparent with you, Y/N,” the officer said. “My station is leading an investigation into the Miroh Coven, but we still need a lot of evidence to bring a case to the court of law.”

“You can have the letter,” I suggested, but she shook her head.

“It needs to be more concrete,” she said. “I need something that condemns them for the previous disappearances of those other blood donors.”

“Maybe a record or something?”

“I wish we had one,” the officer sighed. “We know those donors were employed by the Coven, but there’s no evidence of what happened to them or why they were dismissed.”

“Chan, Jisung, and Changbin own their own company,” I said. “There might be something in one of those buildings?”

“I doubt they’d be careless,” the officer said. “Actually, I’d imagine that the three of them would keep those things close, and there’s probably very few people who they trust inside the mansion.”

I could feel my entire body trembling at her knowing look. “Actually, Y/N, it seems like they trust you.”

“You want me to go to that dinner tonight with them,” I whispered, completely missing her next words because my heart was beating too loudly, drowning out the other noises around the apartment. It felt like I was falling back into a dark place, and I was desperate to find the light again.

Officer Smith suddenly reached out, fingers cold against my arm, and she effectively pulled me back into the conversation. “I know it’s a lot to ask from you, Y/N, but the answers are inside that house! Whatever you might find could bring justice to the people they’ve taken advantage of over the years.”

It was easy for her to tell me to return to the Coven when she desperately needed my help, but why did it have to be my responsibility to return to a place where I had once escaped tragedy? Nevertheless, I could feel the weight of her gaze, imploring me to undertake such a terrifying mission, and I wondered whether or not I could still protect myself when so many other people were depending on me? “Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll do it.”

The Miroh Mansion was still dark and foreboding, reminding me of the very first time I walked through the front door for my interview with Chan. It was a pivotal moment in my life, but one whose consequences I never understood until I drove to a hospital with blood pouring from a wound meant to serve as the last reminder of my mortality. I had nightmares about the Coven kidnapping me and forcing me to return, but I could’ve never imagined that I would come back here of my own decision.

I slowly knocked on the front door, swallowing down my fear because I couldn’t afford for the Coven to think anything was wrong. “Act as if we had never gotten involved,” the police had instructed me.

“I’ll try,” I had promised, and I intended to do whatever was possible to help the innocent. However, I wouldn’t go as far as risking my life to expose these horrible vampires, even if dozens of missing donors were counting on me for justice.

“Y/N,” Chan greeted smoothly when he met me outside on the porch, dark eyes swallowing me into their endless depths. “I’m glad you saw things our way.”

He invited me inside, and I anxiously made my way across the familiar carpeted hallway leading into the living room. I wasn’t surprised to see the other Coven members waiting, but it still didn’t stop my heart from leaping into my throat when I realized that I could very well die tonight if I wasn’t careful. “My dearest Y/N kindly accepted our invitation,” Jisung remarked, gliding across the floor with an impossible speed. I could smell blood on his lips as he wrapped an arm around my waist, escorting me to the lovely sectional where Minho was watching me through lidded eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Changbin contributed, holding a glass of red liquid daintily between his fingers. Felix and Hyunjin sat next to him, looking at me with barely constrained hunger. “You’re just in time for drinks.”

I stiffened instinctively under Jisung’s hold because I remembered the last time I had been offered to drink with them. “It’s just wine,” Minho smirked, holding out a glass for me to take.

I accepted it cautiously, tasting at the rim only to discover a grape-flavored taste that certainly didn’t remind me of blood. Still, I declined to drink further, holding my glass while Chan started a conversation about their business, eliminating the initial silence that had occupied the room upon my arrival. Seungmin and Jeongin happily listened, focused on their sire with an attentiveness that reminded me of my previous stay with the Miroh Coven when I had once been ignorant of their bond. “Dinner should be ready soon,” Chan reassured me and I could only nod in response.

“Do you mind if I use the restroom?” I asked, and Jisung reluctantly let me go while eight pairs of eyes watched me all the way up the staircase.

I took a deep breath, waiting until Chan started talking again before disappearing around the corner into the room I knew he maintained as an office. I immediately started for his desk, pulling out well-organized files and the notebooks full of his writings. Every so often, I glanced up at the clock hanging above the doorway because I knew that I could probably only manage twenty minutes unsupervised before someone came looking for me.

“Please,” I sighed, reading over a promising file tentatively titled extraneous paperwork. “Holy shit!”

Pictures.

Dozens of them.

They were incriminating, various bodies splayed at unattractive angles. Close-up shots of mangled corpses drenched in blood with empty eyes staring straight at the camera. I flipped them over and gasped, reading the names that sounded way too familiar to merely be a coincidence. “This is it,” I said, almost giddy with excitement despite the uncomfortable nausea twisting my stomach at the sight of these poor donors who had managed to fall victim to the merciless Coven.

I shuffled them together, restoring Chan’s office to its previous organization, before tucking the pictures inside the pocket of my jacket. I was more than ready to return downstairs, when I suddenly remembered a faint recollection of the little notebook I had once discovered in Jisung’s bedroom. It wasn’t that much further down the hallway, and I quickly jerked open the drawer of his nightstand, shoulders deflating in relief when I saw the tiny book waiting on top of his other belongings.

I gripped it tightly when I eventually retreated, resting my head against the door to his bedroom quietly because this was causing me more stress than I could handle. “Y/N?”

I immediately turned around, eyes widening in shock when I realized that Chan was waiting for me. I swallowed hard as I held my ground, keeping the journal behind me. “Did you need something, Chan?”

He didn’t respond right away, and I could feel myself growing smaller and smaller with every long second passing between us. Finally, Chan took a step in my direction. “You’ve been gone a while.”

I shifted anxiously. “I- I just remembered something in Jisung’s room. We used to look at it together when I lived here.”

Chan nodded, and I was relieved that he accepted my explanation. “We all missed you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I missed you too.”

He closed his eyes, cherishing the lie that somehow sounded much more believable than it did inside my head. “Can you show me?”

“What?”

“In Jisung’s room,” Chan said. “What did he show you?”

I trembled as I leaned against the door. “I’m not sure if it was something he wanted to share.”

“I see,” Chan murmured. “It’s interesting because there’s something that I want to show you too.”

Chan walked away without another word, and I assumed that he wanted me to follow him. I ignored every instinct that was screaming for me to escape with my evidence because I wouldn’t make it the bottom of the staircase before a Coven member would prevent that from happening. Instead, I took slow steps on unsteady legs into Chan’s bedroom. I was inherently curious, but when he gently backed me against the wall, I understood perfectly well what he wanted.

His fingers were undoing the buttons on my shirt and I carefully shrugged off my jacket before he could find and apprehend the valuable photographs inside my pockets. I also made sure Jisung’s journal was hidden beneath the fabric before I allowed Chan to take me to his bed. The oldest vampire made no secret of his desires, tossing aside his shirt before tugging the fabric of my jeans down my legs. “Y/N,” he sighed, fingering the edges of my panties while his sharpened canines drew lines along my collarbones. My body reacted on instinct because it was impossible to resist Chan when he was looking at me like I was the answer to all of his problems. Despite everything he had done to me, I still responded to his touches and the taste of his skin on my lips. Instead of pushing him away, I held him close, occasionally glancing at my jacket waiting next to the door with the incriminating evidence necessary to end the Coven forever.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned. “I missed you.”

Maybe that was part of the reason why I didn’t resist because I knew that he would never bother me again once the police had their prosecution trial. It was an intoxicating sensation since I was the one with all the power and he was completely clueless to my intentions. He had no idea that I came back to spite the Coven instead of joining them like they wanted.

I watched him roll on a condom, erection prominent as he pushed slowly between my legs. I felt incredibly full, studying the pleasure on his face when he started to thrust inside of me. I looked at him the entire time with eyes wide open because I knew something that he didn’t and, while he was pleasuring me with his precious members waiting downstairs, I was taking back all that time spent in this mansion, knowing that they were more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered before.

His cock moved faster, and I reacted by spreading my legs wider for him, opening myself up to Chan’s advances. It didn’t take him long to come, and I finally closed my eyes when I felt his warm release through the thin latex of the condom. His kisses were familiar, but they also made me want to laugh because I was planning on betraying the people who claimed to love me, the vampires who actually did love me in their own messed up way.

“I love you,” he eventually said, but I didn’t respond, choosing instead to count the tiles on the ceiling overhead.

“Photos, names, addresses, detailed journal accounts...Y/N, you managed to find everything! We can cross-reference this stuff with the files and paperwork we already have.”

I smiled despite the circumstances, watching as two younger detectives sorted the files and pictures before retreating from the tiny interrogation room. “It wasn’t exactly easy for me.”

“Still, this is brilliant, Y/N,” Officer Smith exclaimed, and I felt satisfied knowing that I had done a good job. “We have enough evidence to start the raid.”

“Raid?”

She nodded. “You should know that Vampire raids are extremely rare, but I don’t think your Coven will surrender when we issue the warrant.”

I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion that I could ever belong to the Miroh Coven. “Is it safe?”

“It’s a commonplace occurrence and we’ve all received special training,” she said. “Hopefully, they’ll come to their senses and agree to a trial, but it won’t take much for a judge to officially convict them.”

“Will I have to be at the trial?” I asked, dreading the idea before it could even become official.

“I wouldn’t force you,” she replied. “A testimony would be critical, but this is enough to put them away for the rest of their immortal lives.”

I couldn’t imagine the dreaded reality of such a punishment. “What if they escape? They might try and track me down.”

“Witness protection,” she suggested. “We’ll accommodate you to the best of our abilities.”

“I understand the concept,” I said. “But they’ve found me before despite everything I did to hide.”

“Well, we can work out the details later,” she said. “For now, we need to prepare for the raid. We’ll start by sending in the evidence to the court to get our warrant for their immediate arrest.”

“Is it something that will happen soon?”

“I might have a way to expedite the process,” she grinned. “We’ve been on this case for long enough, bothering the courts for documents and employee records.”

I nodded slowly. “So everything is done?”

“For the most part,” she agreed. “We can commence stage two of our operation.”

“Thank god,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “I’m glad that it’s over.”

“Yes,” the officer said, but there was a reluctance in her tone that sent me immediately on edge. “Of course, we can always use your help with one last thing.”

“What could I do at this point? I’m not exactly trained for this sort of thing.”

“Yes, but we wouldn’t want the Coven to suspect anything,” she said. “They might try to leave before our warrant is formally issued. Until then, I think a distraction might hold their attention.”

“Me,” I intoned, narrowing my eyes because I wanted nothing more to do with those nasty vampires.

“We wouldn’t want them to suspect anything,” she said. “If you go back to the Coven, then they might lower their guard.”

“It was supposed to end,” I reminded her. “You said that I was finished with them.”

“I know we’re asking a lot of you,” Officer Smith said. “But this will be the last time you ever have to see them again.”

“You keep saying that,” I muttered, but we both knew that I was in too deep, which meant that I had no choice but to return to the mansion.

Felix greeted me at the door with his familiar smirk, escorting me inside to the bottom of the staircase. Today meant the official end of the Coven, but they were all completely ignorant to their impending punishment. “They want to discuss something with you,” Felix said, and I understood immediately who he was referring to despite the unnecessary pronoun game.

Still, I knew that I couldn’t keep them waiting, pausing outside of Chan’s office door before I heard someone invite me inside. I took a deep breath, opening the door to discover the three leaders waiting for me expectantly while wearing similar expressions of dark foreboding. “Y/N,” Chan said. “Have a seat.”

I obeyed instantly, looking at the Miroh Coven leader as he watched me with an unnerving attentiveness. “What’s going on? I asked.

“I think we have something serious to discuss,” Chan said and my heart was practically beating out of my chest as I studied Jisung and Changbin from the corner of my eye. They knew, I repeated to myself over and over again as I imagined a dozen different scenarios that all ended with my lifeless body thrown into some kind of river because they had discovered my treason.

“You came back,” Jisung finally said. “We weren’t expecting you to accept our invitation.”

“I was being polite,” I said, rubbing my hands along the seam line of my jeans.

“Yes, but we’re all here,” Changbin said. “We can be together.”

I shivered at his words. “We love you, Y/N,” Chan said. “The eight of us would like nothing more than to keep you with us forever.

“To turn me,” I confirmed, and he nodded his head.

“We’ll make it special,” Jisung said, patting his lap and I reluctantly joined him.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Changbin confirmed, swiping his tongue across his sharp teeth. “But we are hungry.”

“And you’re such a sweet girl,” Jisung added, holding me on his lap as his teeth brushed across my carotid artery.

I held my breath because he was close to biting, but then...

“Chan! The police are outside and have a warrant to investigate the property!”

Jeongin’s face was a mess of tears which, at one time, might’ve forced me to reconsider everything that I had done, but not anymore. “What?” Chan growled, before glaring at me. “You stay here,” Chan said, and Jisung snarled in frustration as he released me before following Changbin and Chan downstairs.

For a moment, I could only focus on breathing because I had narrowly escaped Jisung’s bite and now the Coven knew that they were about to receive an unanticipated raid from the police. I swallowed hard, falling down into the floor as a piercing scream shattered the previous silence that left me shaking like a leaf inside of Chan’s office. There were suddenly loud growls and vicious noises penetrating the closed door and I buried my head between my legs and tried to calm down my racing heart.

I could hear the familiar sounds of glass breaking, of inhuman screams and yells breaking the barrier of the office. The voices of the vampires I had once known yelling out insults and curses, the destructive noises of gunshots and human-like cries for help as teeth tore through skin. It was apparent that the Miroh Coven was not backing down from this fight, and I could only pray that my officer had been right in her assurances that they could handle the Coven.

It seemed like hours had passed before I finally removed my hands from my ears, realizing that the screaming from downstairs had suddenly stopped. I waited for several moments, hearing nothing but my heartbeat in my ears and the gentle sounds of the river outside. Eventually, I managed to stand on unsteady legs, holding myself up against the wall as I started to make my way downstairs.

The smells that assaulted my senses should’ve told me everything, but I still released a piercing scream when I collapsed at the bottom of the staircase.

It was a terrifying sight, nothing but blood and crooked bodies spread throughout the room. I recognized most of the Coven, bile rising in my throat when I made contact with Changbin’s lifeless eyes. I carefully took a step back because I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen, but an unexpected pressure around my ankle tore another scream from my throat and I fell down onto the floor.

“Y/N,” Chan croaked and I shivered when he moved over me, blood seeping through his shirt, but his eyes were still perfectly focused. “I have nothing now, Y/N,” Chan gasped, gripping tightly to my chin and forcing me to look into the empty eyes of Han Jisung.

He pulled me closer, exposing his sharpened teeth and I could do nothing to stop him. This was it, I thought to myself, the moment I had been running from since that tragic night eight months ago. Because Chan was unrelenting, drinking with long, painful bites that sent a searing pain down my spine as my body fought against the significant blood loss. Everything was cold and I wondered if death always felt this unpleasant.

However, the sudden reverberation of a loud snarl forced me to reconsider the darkening spots in my vision, searching behind me when I realized the brutal aspect of Chan’s bite had suddenly subsided. I felt my mouth drop open in horror, but the feeling quickly disappeared when I realized Officer Smith had speared Chan straight through the heart with a silver stake. The impact was immediate and Chan’s body dropped to the floor unceremoniously, leaving me with only a pair of red eyes gazing unblinkingly from the beyond. Meanwhile, Officer Smith offered me a kind smile that seemed out of place considering the blood staining the front of her uniform. “You deserve a better life, Y/N,” she whispered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she collapsed next to Chan.

It took me a moment to regain my bearings, looking around at the surrounding carnage. There was blood everywhere, bodies lying in deep puddles and contorted awkwardly from their injuries. It was a startling realization because they were all gone, both vampires and humans. There was nothing left from their vicious fight.

I was also incredibly tired and I closed my eyes despite my situation. Everything felt heavy, and I just wanted to forget the entire night before I had to comprehend the unfortunate tragedy of the Miroh Coven. I thought I deserved it considering the heavy loss weighing over my heart.

After a while, I became aware of a piercing light burning from somewhere in the distance. I gradually opened my eyes because the morning had arrived and, despite the death and destruction around me, I wanted desperately to find a better future in that beautiful light...

Epilogue- 2 Years Later

Vampires had rapidly gone into hiding, especially following the inquiry into the Miroh Massacre, as the newspapers delicately framed the tragedy. Apparently, society decided that they would no longer embrace their culture, finding more evidence of various Covens abusing the donor law which was eventually retracted in court. Subsequently, the vampires were forced to remain out of the public eye lest they face a severe punishment from the newly minted Hunters who spent their lives training to kill rogue vampires.

As for myself, I had finally taken back full ownership of my life, accepting a full-time research position that eventually led me to my future husband. After our marriage, we moved into an idyllic home in the suburbs and I gave birth to my son who proved to be everything that I needed in this world. Everything was starting to work out for me, and I was finally reassured that the past was truly forgotten because the ones who had haunted it were now gone forever.

“Mommy!” my son called, and I found him in the doorway to his bedroom looking up at me with tired brown eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why is that?” I asked while gently encouraging him to lay back down on his bed.

“A kid in my class,” he said. “He told us about the vampires.”

“Yeah? Well, how would he know anything? He’s probably never even seen a vampire. Not many people have.”

“What about you?”

I shivered at the question. “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Vampires aren’t a problem anymore and there are people now who can protect us.”

“Really?” he asked, and his eyes were incredibly innocent of the true horrors of this world.

“They won’t ever hurt you,” I promised my son before flipping his light switch. I closed the door gently, praying that he might sleep through the entire night in his own bed, before I walked into the kitchen for something to drink. I smirked as I popped the cork on a new bottle of wine that my husband had bought for the two of us to share. It seemed unnecessarily mischievous to drink with my son in the other room, but I still liked to indulge every now and then, especially after remaining sober for nine months during my pregnancy.

I sighed as I drained the first glass, feeling the numbing effects spread through my body like an aphrodisiac. It had been a stressful day because of some unnecessary paperwork at the research institute where I worked, but I knew that everyday couldn’t be perfect. After all, I was absolutely grateful for everything in my life, even if it caused me the occasional headache.

I started washing my wine glass, lost in thought until a strange noise outside forced me to pause in my cleaning. It sounded close to the garage attached to our house, and I figured it might be raccoons again because they were becoming a problem. I glanced out the window, shrugging when I didn’t notice anything suspicious. However, if I had only taken an extra moment to study the outline of my husband’s garden, then I might’ve noticed the unusual pair of crimson-red eyes watching me from outside.

The End.

[songbirdsingingthings]

As The Years Went By (Daichi Sawamura x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO HARUICHI FURUDATE You didn’t really understand why people hated the rain… you found it rather beautiful. Maybe it had something to do with age. No longer were you anxiously waiting to go and play outside with the kids of the neighborhood - now you were studying for your final exams, holding a job at the local bakery, and on top of that, being manager of the boys volleyball team. Being a 3rd year has been, to put it bluntly, kicking your ass. You never really meant to make your schedule this busy, all of the opportunities just kind of fell in your lap as the years went by. 

The first was as the Karasuno boys volleyball team manager. You had loved volleyball for most of your life, but never expressed the want or need to actually play the sport. You were far more interested in looking at the subtle movements between the players on the court and how in tune they all were with each other. That’s what led you to becoming friends with a brown-haired boy when you were about twelve years old. You saw him playing volleyball with some other boys in your grade at the middle school court. You had to stay behind at the middle school since you were in charge of planning out your year’s graduation party. After writing down where most of your grade was going for high school, you were exhausted. But, curious as ever, you poked your head out and watched the boys, bump, set, and spike the ball. The brown haired boy, however, caught your attention. The grin on his face was kind of mesmerizing and the way he moved with such intent and purpose to receive the ball was incredible to you. It was almost as if-

“Hey! Do you want to play?” The boy’s voice startled you, causing you to drop the big binder that you were holding. Embarrassed, you managed to hoist the heavy thing back into your arms. You shook your head, “U-uh, sorry! I was just watching, I don’t play. I can go now!” The brown haired boy couldn’t believe how fast you were talking, so he jogged right up to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. It was a little weird, considering that you were about two inches taller than him, but he was smiling nonetheless. 

“Well, why don’t you sit down on the bench then? It’s a lot closer to the action!” He said. You blinked, speechless for a few seconds, and then returned a small smile.

“Okay, as long as I’m not bothering you guys.” You said. The brown haired boy shook his head.

“You’re anything but a bother! It’s like we're playing for an audience now. I’m Daichi Sawamura, by the way.” 

“Y/N L/N,” You said, smiling. 

From that day on, you and Daichi had begun a friendship that grew stronger through each experience you went through. First it was revealing to each other that you both had chosen to attend Karasuno High. The wide smiles on each of your faces were considered blinding to anyone who could see them, except to each other. Then, it was your decision to become manager of the boys volleyball when Daichi had made the team. The moment you walked into the gym as the boys started to warm up, you knew that you belonged there. The smiles from the boys in your year greeted you warmly. Asahi Azumane, Kōshi Sugawara, Daichi Sawamura, and you had formed quite the friend group ever since that day.

Next was your job at the local bakery. As a second year, you wanted to earn your own money. The times that weren’t taken up by your managerial position or your avid studying, you and your friends would go out to the mall or at restaurants, and you always felt bad asking your parents for money. They, of course, were happy to give you spending money, but due to your independent nature, you longed for a tiny taste of the real world. So, you interviewed at your favorite little place to study and grab a bite to eat. Thankfully, the people who ran the place already knew, and loved, you. They put you in an apron almost immediately and set you up at the cash register. The look on Daichi, Asahi, and Kōshi’s face as they walked inside to grab a cup of coffee after practice was incredible. The three of them reached over the counter to give you a tight hug in congratulations. After that, they became regulars at the little shop.

And finally, you were in the top 5 percentile of your grade. This was both a blessing and a curse to find this out. You were happy that the hard work you were putting in was paying off, but that only made you study more and more. It caused a somewhat withdrawal of you spending time with friends and really having fun. Your schedule consisted of going to school, volleyball practice, working a three hour shift at the bakery, and then studying until it was almost 2 in the morning. 

Currently you were nodding off during volleyball practice. The drumming of rain on the top of the gym was like a perfect little lullaby to you. You heard the yells coming from Daichi to the team, having them go through various workouts. Normally you would’ve been wide awake, maybe even ogling Daichi as you could normally see the strain of his muscles through his shirt when they were doing burpees. As the years went by, thoughts of Daichi were increasingly invading your mind, but you weren’t opposed to that. Daichi was special. He was caring and respectful of everyone, well mostly everyone, he met. His commitment to his team was admirable and he maintained good grades all at the same time. A special place in your heart was dedicated to this boy. 

Thankfully, the owners of the bakery had given you an entire week off from work due to them having renovations done. While you were free from that responsibility, the principal gave you a massive one recently - designing and managing the 3rd years end of year dance that was rapidly approaching. Not really having the ability to refuse, you “gladly” took on the operation. Your brain was now fried. You kept getting  budgets for the team and the school mixed up, all of the opinions of the students and faculty were revolving around in your head, and now you had to choose between streamers and balloons. So, you thought that if you closed your eyes for a second, you would be able to think clearly. Well, you fell asleep. Oops.

A shaking of your shoulders woke you up. As your eyes slowly opened, you saw gorgeous chocolate eyes staring into your own Y/E/C ones.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Daichi asks, concerned. Nodding, you raise yourself so that you’re sitting. The gym was mostly empty - practice must be over. Mentally face-palming for missing the entire practice, you were about to ask what had happened when Daichi spoke. “You didn’t miss anything. Just Hintata and Kageyama bickering over something stupid.” Earning a laugh out of you, Daichi gave you his hand to help you stand up. Gladly accepting, you stood, smoothed out your skirt, and grabbed your bag. Looking out of the double doors of the gym, you softly cursed. It was still raining and you had forgotten to grab an umbrella this morning. 

“Do you happen to have an extra umbrella?” You asked Daichi sheepishly. What a stupid question, you thought, nobody has two umbrellas with them!

“No, but I do have one. Care if I walk you home?” Daichi asks, giving you a classic smile. You give him an even bigger one. Not at all.

The walk home was lovely. Since you and Daichi don’t live that far away from each other, you didn’t feel guilty for having him walk you to your house. The two of you talked about the team, your job, and your new responsibilities with planning the dance.

“I just don’t get it Dai! I mean the logical color choices are black and orange because those are our school colors, but there’s this whole group of people who are campaigning for silver, white, and blue! Like where the hell did those colors come from?!” Daichi listened to you vent, nodding and laughing at the appropriate moments. Finally, the two of you reached your house. Just as you expected, none of the lights were on. Your parents were very busy people with jobs that required them to work pretty late hours. Seeing this, you sighed. “Thank you for walking me home Daichi, I really appreciate it.” You say, giving him a smile. 

“Hey, if it’s okay…” Daichi begins, blushing a little, “what if I stay with you until your parents get home? I don’t really like the thought of you here all alone.” Now it was your turn to blush. Of course, you have spent lots of time one on one with Daichi, but this felt oddly… intimate. Of course, you were perfectly fine with that. 

“Y-yeah! Come on in!” You say, opening the door and allowing Daichi to step into your house. You shut the door behind you as Daichi walks around, looking at the pictures hung up on the walls. You see him stop at one, which intrigues you. Making your way over to where Daichi was standing, you look at the photo. It was from your first year at Karasuno. You were, surprisingly the second tallest out of you, Daichi, Asahi, and Kōshi, but that fact no longer held up. Daichi was now a couple inches taller than you, but you didn’t really mind. Laughing a little, you nudge Daichi with your hip. “Shorty,” You say with a slightly teasing tone. Daichi looks back to you, emphasizing that he was, in fact, actually looking down at you.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, “We’ll see about that.” He grabs your phone from your pocket and raises his hand so that it was the highest he could possibly reach.

“Hey! That’s so not fair, your arms are so much longer than mine!” You shout, jumping up a little to try and snatch your phone back from him. That’s when your phone pinged with a notification. Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit. You remember texting your friend, Kiyoko,  about how Daichi offered to walk you home. She knew about your crush for the brown-haired captain, so the text she sent back would probably be about Daichi. This situation couldn’t be more awful.

“Oh look! It’s from Kiyoko, I wonder what she says!” Daichi says in a teasing manner. 

“W-wait! Hold up, give me it back!” You say, a lot more desperately now, chasing him around the downstairs floor. He managed to gain quite a lead against you and flopped onto the coach so that he could read the text.

“‘Why don’t you ask Daichi already Y/N, it’s not like he’s gonna say no’...” Daichi read aloud, confused about the nature of the text. As soon as he read that, your eyes went wide. “What are you gonna ask me about, Y/N/N?”  Trying to think of an answer quickly, Daichi knew that wheels were spinning in your head. Standing up slowly, he walked over to you, and put his hands on your shoulders. He was no longer the boy asking you if you wanted to play volleyball. He was a man trying to get an answer out of you. “Y/N, what were you going to ask me about?” He says, softly now.

“Dammit Kiyoko…” you mutter, looking at your feet. Daichi knew you well enough to tell when you were lying, so you were going to have to tell him the truth. Yes, you wanted you and him to go to that stupid dance you were planning together. You have been daydreaming about it for the past month. You in a pretty dress and him in a handsome suit, walking arm in arm into that banquet hall. He would ask you to dance with him to a slow song, leading you to the middle of the dance floor. His hands would be on your hips, yours wrapped around the back of his neck, maybe even playing with his hair a bit. At the end of the night, he would bring you to a quiet spot, maybe the practice gym, and confess his love to you. Alas, that was in your imagination. Now, you had to tell him, indirectly, that you like him. “Umm, Kiyoko was referring to uh,” you swallow and close your eyes, your head still tilted down towards your feet, “she was referring to me asking you to the dance.” Silence greeted the two of you for a bit, but was interrupted by Daichi wrapping his big, strong arms around you. He held you tightly and even laughed a little bit. A little shocked, you open your eyes. He pulls away from you, just a bit so that you and him can see each other.

“Well I guess you beat me to it, huh?” He says, giving you a grin. Your confused face makes him laugh even harder. “I was going to ask you tomorrow. I had the whole thing planned out with the team. We even got you a volleyball that says “Dance with me?” on it.” Daichi laughs out loud. Now, you joined him. “Since it’s kind of out in the open though, I guess I can do it right now.” Pulling the volleyball out of his bag, you recognize it immediately.

“Is this the ball from when you invited me to play?” You asked slyly, taking the ball out of his hands, looking at the ball. You found the “Dance with me?” written on the part just above where you’re supposed to pump it up.

“Yeah, how could I get rid of it? That was the first time I really spoke to a cute girl.” He said, winking at you. Your cheeks lit up. “So, Y/N, will you go to the dance with me? And then, go out with me after?” He asks. You give him the biggest smile he’s ever seen on you.

“Of course Daichi!” Feeling high on adrenaline, you move towards him and softly grab his face with your hands. He nods immediately which prompts you to close the small gap between the two of you. His lips were soft and his hold on you was tender. His hands wrapped around your waist, but slowly inched up so that your face was now in his hands. You two pulled apart for what seemed was way too soon, but you were pretty out of breath.

“So… what color tie should I get?”

[hisunshiine]

Escape ✈︎ Chapter 4

✈︎ chapter 4: you have been cordially invited... |✈︎ Escape Series—18+, Mature     

   ✈︎ genre: fluff, future smut

   ✈︎ word count: 2,736 words 

   ✈︎ pairing: jungkook x [redacted] (at the very end)

   ✈︎ warnings: alcohol consumption

   ✈︎ summary: A look into what it's like arriving to Bangtania...

| series masterlist | previous | next | hisunshiine | mrsparkjimin18 |

Everyday, since the very beginning when it was announced, you have sat at your computer or been on your phone in order to participate in the giveaway for a chance to go to Bangtania Island. Every week, one lucky person has a chance to win an exclusive invitation from the girls who organized it, all expenses paid for them to relocate out there.  

Friday couldn’t have come soon enough; your job was draining. A typical 9-5, doing office work was monotonous and you slogged through the week waiting for your weekends to come. Despite the wish to find something else, nobody was hiring in your city. Not for anything you wanted to do, anyways. Deep in your gut you felt the need for something more, instead of the repetitious clacking of your fingers against the keyboard, answering the phones, and feeling like a machine.

Fortunately, it’s the weekend, so you decide to stop and grab a bottle of wine and make your way home. You’re ready to unwind with some youtube videos and spend time browsing your social media for anything interesting. You pour a glass of wine and relax on the sofa, open your laptop and log in to twitter. You have a few notifications, including an update from the giveaway page, they had posted there was another winner chosen and that the winner would receive an email shortly.

“That was 30 minutes ago!?” You squeal to yourself, an unexplainable feeling creeping over you.

Just then your phone chimes, and you unlock the screen to check your notifications. You have multiple email notifications, so you check your email app as you sip your wine. Scrolling through them, it’s mainly junk mail, you see one that catches your eye.

Sender Name: Bangtania Island Mayor

Subject: You have been cordially invited…

Y/N,

Congratulations! You have been selected as the next lucky winner to be invited to Bangtania Island. In order to accept this invitation, please click on the link and fill out the application. Documents you may need to gather prior to completing the forms in the link are:

Driver’s License

Social Security Card

Passport

Please make sure to include the earliest date for you to travel, and please have your physical completed prior to boarding the plane. All documents needed are attached to the email. Please make sure to electronically sign them and reply to this email with the completed documents. If you have any questions in regards to the forms, please do not hesitate to reach out. Upon completion of all required documents per your reply email, you will receive your e-ticket for travel.

The following are the guidelines and stipulations for traveling to Bangtania Island:

You will receive a one-way ticket, free of cost. You will be picked up from the airport and transported to the boat, which will bring you to the island. You will be given a limited amount of time to decide if you would like to stay as a permanent resident of Bangtania, approximately 2 weeks. Prior to you being granted full access to the island, you will meet with the Deputy Mayor who will greet you at the dock, completing a brief in-person interview. If you decide to leave or prove unfit for the island at that time, a complimentary ticket home will be provided to you up until the 2-week window.

Thank you,

Vanessa

Deputy Mayor of the Mayor’s Office, Bangtania Island

You couldn’t stop yourself from spilling some wine as you low-key panicked. You knew there was a very good possibility of being chosen; some of your mutuals on twitter had already left to go there, and while you had seen them briefly on the TL, it was never for long and they didn’t say anything other than that they were enjoying themselves immensely and to share the sweepstakes link.

You set down what was left of your wine that hadn’t spilt into your lap, and ran around your room, pulling clothes off of their hangers and out of your dresser drawers before you remembered you hadn’t even clicked the link to complete the forms. 

Pausing in the middle of your bedroom, arms filled with random clothes, you took 7 deep breaths to try and calm down before dropping your handful of clothes into your pen and waiting suitcase. Sitting back down, you calmly clicked the link and once transported to the secure website, you filled in the information needed so that your flight could be purchased for you as well as any other accommodations you may need could be handled by the ones in charge. 

You printed out the forms needed for the physical, jotted down some notes to go to the doctor on Monday to complete the form, and decided that the earliest you would be able to fly out was Wednesday. That gives you enough time to go to your job, request use of your vacation hours for the next 2 weeks, and turn in your two week notice. You didn’t ever want to come back to that shit hole.

You celebrated the news by turning up your bluetooth speaker and blasting your favorite upbeat BTS songs while you packed up everything you would need. Hasta La Vista!

Catching your flight was easier than you thought it would be, as you had an upgraded flight in first class. You were given star treatment, access to a separate waiting area with complimentary food and drinks, less people to deal with, comfortable seats, the works. You couldn’t believe that ARMY was able to provide all of this for you, but who were you to complain? 

The boat ride was also nice, more like taking a large yacht across the water to the island, you stood at the bough of the boat for most of the trip, enjoying the view as you became farther and farther away from everything that was shitty about your life and closer to everything you wanted. An escape into a world that was full of other people who were like you, liked the same music, had the same mindset, and you got to do it all on a paradise island? Hell fucking yeah.

After docking, you rolled your luggage behind you as you disembarked from the ramp, and saw a girl waiting for you. She was short but cute, a friendly smile and aura of being in charge. Her cheeks were slightly sunburnt, but you were envious of the way she looked refreshed, skin glowing. You couldn’t wait for that to be you; sunkissed and relaxed from the ocean breeze and too many margaritas.

“Y/n?” She asked, and you nodded.

“Welcome! I’m Vanessa, I hope that your trip went well?”

“Oh yea, it was awesome, thank you!”

“No problem, congratulations on winning! So before we go off to the fun stuff, we have a brief interview and a few more things to go over, and then I’ll give you a tour of the island and show you to your place. If you’ll follow me?”

Vanessa led the way to a golf cart and you climbed on, your luggage secured in the back seat of the cart. She turned the key, and you were speeding off towards a large house. It was painted white with accents of brick, and green ivy climbing lattices. The windows were large and beautiful, and you felt like you had seen them somewhere before. Like they were in a magazine or some type of professional photos or something. You shrugged off the feeling of deja vu, and followed Vanessa into the house.

The windows were open and provided a good amount of sunlight into the entryway, and you tried to take in as much as you could see as Vanessa walked past a staircase and led you towards the back of the house and into a side room. It was an office, with bright white walls and a large sturdy desk. A bookshelf was the entire wall behind the desk, where she now sat at. 

She gestured to the plush chair in front of her desk and you sat down, suddenly nervous. For such a large house, it was pretty quiet, and you wondered where all the other people were. Was this actually all an elaborate trick to sell you into sex trafficking and you were brought here to die?!

You calmed your thoughts once you heard laughter from somewhere above you, and music playing lightly from another area of the house.

“So, once again, welcome! I am the deputy mayor here, and basically in charge of getting you all settled. We are a formal nation, Bangtania, with a president, a whole government system, and we’re working on expanding the businesses here. Before I can reveal anything more to you, I do need to have you sign the Non-Disclosure Agreement here in person. I know that I sent it to you via email for you to read and electronically sign, but I like to cover all of my bases.”

Like clockwork, another woman walked into the open office door, carrying a glass of wine and some papers. She took a sip and handed the papers to Vanessa, who thanked her as she headed back out of the room. The woman blew a kiss and disappeared around the corner.

“That’s my best friend, Talia, and definitely the reason that all of this was even put into motion,” Vanessa said as she shuffled the papers before straightening them gently by tapping the edges on the desk. She stapled the corner, binding the papers together, and passed it over to you.

“I know you read over most of this, but I want to reiterate a few points anyways. From the moment you leave this office, you are not to share with anyone about the other people on this island. When you first applied to the giveaway sweepstakes, you gave us your social media handles. While we won’t take away social media from you, your posts will be monitored for identifying certain people who wish to remain anonymous while here. Please always ask anyone before posting and triple check photos as well.”

She points to a section and you initial, stating you understand.

“You have a two week period here to see how you like it. You don’t have to stay if you do not want to. After that time, you will be issued a passport for Bangtania, a resident ID, and be included in our census. You will have dual citizenship for here and for your home country as well.”

“If you choose to leave within the 2 week window, it’s no charge. If you choose to leave after, you will have to fund your flight home yourself. We will pay for your boat ride back to the mainland, and from there you can negotiate work or if you have money saved just in case, you can fly out. Also, if you choose to stay, you can always fly out to visit friends and family, just remember the NDA is always in affect.”

You initialed again.

Vanessa led you through a few more sections of the contract, and you learned that a few of the girls on the island were nurses and so if you were sick or needed minor medical attention, they would help you. Everything else was pretty much provided to you, and all they asked was that they could use your skills in return. 

You weren’t surprised they knew you had skills with computers and answering phones, which made you a perfect candidate to work in the main house under Vanessa doing secretarial work for her best friend, Talia. It wouldn’t be a lot of work, you would have plenty of time to enjoy the beach and rest, and the work would be related to the giveaway, running the island, and other fun BTS related things, so you were excited.

Signing your last signature on the bottom of the last page, Vanessa took the document, notarized it, and put it away in a locked filing cabinet next to her desk.

“Now, if you’re ready, I’d love to give you a tour of the island and show you where you’ll be staying.”

After seeing the main areas that people hung out at, you went towards what looked like a restaurant, which was good because you were hungry. Vanessa parked the golf cart next to a few others, and she held the door open for you.

You almost fainted. Seated at the table right when you walked in was none other than the 7 boys that were the reason you lived. BTS. Namjoon, Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jungkook were sat at the table, and as you looked around, you saw that in between them sat other girls, including mutuals you knew were living here. Hobi appeared from swinging doors that led to what you assumed was the kitchen, delivering plates of food from a platter as a few girls followed him as well with drinks.

“C’mon Y/N, don’t be shy. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Vanessa laughed, taking in your shocked expression.

After eating, and sharing some conversation with Jin and Yoongi, you were ready for a nap. Jin was an exceptional cook, and you were full to the brim. Vanessa waved bye to everyone, a lingering hand on a certain male’s shoulder as she walked away, leading you back outside. As you sat back on the leather seat of the cart, she checked in with you.

“I’m definitely still in shock, but now I understand the NDA a lot more.” You chuckled as she drove you towards another house. It was just as big as the main house, as you heard several people call it, but the style was more relaxed and upon entering it, you realized it was because it was lived in. It was two stories, with a large open concept downstairs with a living room and kitchen, and rooms upstairs. You dragged your suitcase up the flight and Vanessa unlocked a room for you with a key before handing it to you.

“This is our newcomer guest room. We will have a room ready for you after your 2 weeks are up, if you decide to stay. For now, most people have said staying with me and Talia has been helpful if they had questions or needed anything, but any of the girls will help you, everyone is super nice.”

You looked around the room; it was spacious with a nice big bay window that allowed a decent amount of sunlight in.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in. Feel free to explore some more, and tomorrow we will have our weekly game night so you can meet everyone in a more relaxed setting and have fun. It’s our way of welcoming you to Bangtania.”

Vanessa let herself out of the room, closing the door softly. You wanted to explore, but at the moment the bed was calling to you. You lay down in the spot where the sun was pooling, curling yourself into the warmth and passed out. Jet Lag was a bitch.

When you finally rejoined the waking world, it was definitely not waking hours. The sun had set, and you shiver, the ocean breeze now too cool in your bedroom. You get up, throwing a MOTS tour hoodie on, and climb back in the bed, attempting to go back to sleep. Tossing and turning for about 15 minutes, sleep evades you. You must have caught up on all of your missing sleep with that ‘nap’ you took. Like you said, Jet lag is a bitch. Not wanting to continue to lay there restless, you slip out of the room and down the stairs.

You walk along the road, past other houses, finding yourself walking into sand. Sitting on the beach, enjoying the sound of the waves, you finally begin to feel tired. Rather than fall asleep on the beach, you make your way back to the house.

You head up the stairs and start down the hall, being as quiet as possible since it’s late and everyone is asleep. At least you assume they are all asleep, until you hear a very familiar voice coming from Vanessa’s room.

“Come here Princess, why are you acting this way?” You step closer to the door that is slightly ajar. You can’t believe what you are seeing, but you can’t stop watching either.

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine & mrsparkjimin18 2020-2021. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 1

A/N: To celebrate William “Thirst Trap” Nylander’s birthday last Friday, I’m going to do a double post this week!  (Also maybe because he’s technically not in this chapter).  Make sure you set your clocks for Thursday at 7:30pm cause that’s when I’ll post Chapter 2.  Chapter 3 will then proceed next Monday on our regular once-a-week schedule.

September 3rd, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was still looking for a job.

She was still sending out her resume to companies.  She was still making follow-up phone calls.  She was still creating alert notifications for jobs she’d be interested in.  She was still going for interviews.  She was still shaking hands and thanking people for their time.  She was still writing follow-up thank you emails.  She was still getting rejection calls.  She was still submitting work to writing contests and magazines.  She was still getting “It’s not what we’re looking for right now” emails.  

She sighed.

So maybe getting the dream gig was harder than she thought.

It wasn’t like the bank had let her go.  She was still earning something to keep her afloat, but it was the bank.  It wasn’t writing, it wasn’t anything else.  It was the same stuff every single day and Aberdeen was starting to resent it.  She didn’t move downtown to stay a bank teller.  She moved downtown to start her career, and this was not starting her career.

But then a phone call came on Sunday – peculiar, she thought, since it was a long weekend and had expected everybody and their mothers to be at a cottage – asking if she wanted to come in for an interview.  To MLSE.  For the personal assistant job.  Aberdeen didn’t even remember applying to MLSE.  But she was desperate, so she said yes, and now she found herself looking in the mirror with her best “interview outfit” on ready to ace it.

She took a deep breath.  She could do this.  She packed her bag, made sure she had her wallet at keys, and left the condo, deciding to walk the short way to 50 Bay Street so she could pick up breakfast on the way.  Even while eating the ham and swiss sandwich, she could feel the butterflies in her stomach – it didn’t calm her nerves at all.  For some reason, she felt like this was her last chance to build something towards her career.  If she didn’t, she’d be stuck bank-telling forever.  When she stood outside the doors of 50 Bay Street, she took a deep breath before walking in.

“When you arrive, tell the receptionist you are looking for Frances Munro” the woman on the other line had told her when she called for the interview.  As she approached the receptionist, she tried to look as confident as possible.  “Hi, my name is Aberdeen Bloom.  I’m here for an interview with, um, Frances Munro?”

“Aberdeen Bloom?” another voice called out.  

Aberdeen looked up to see another woman lurking in the back, a clipboard in hand, dressed impeccably well.  “Yes.  Hi.”

The woman looked at her.  Aberdeen could see her give a quick up-down.  “Great.  Human resources certainly has an odd sense of humour,” she quipped, chuckling for nobody but herself.  “Follow me.”

Aberdeen did as she was told, giving a polite nod to the receptionist who was already ignoring her.  She circled around the desk and followed Frances, who walked through the door but didn’t hold it open.  “Okay, so I was Brendan’s personal assistant but I recently got promoted so now I’m looking for someone else,” Frances explained.

“Oh, so you’re replacing yourself.”

“Well, I’m trying to.  We tried to be proactive and hire early but the last two Brendan sacked after only a few weeks.  We need to find someone who can survive here – who can survive Brendan’s schedule and survive the pressure of the Leafs.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.  Absolutely.”  Aberdeen looked around awkwardly.  “Who is Brendan?”

“What?” Frances stopped dead in her tracks to look back at Aberdeen.  “Oh my God, I will pretend did not just ask me that – Brendan Shanahan, he’s the president of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” she practically hissed at her, continuing her walk.  “Not to mention a hockey legend.  If you work a year for him you can get a job in any adjacent field you want – sports, media, journalism, writing, whatever.  A million people would kill for this job.”

Writing.  Writing.  WRITING!!!!!  Alarm bells were going off in Aberdeen’s ears.  “It sounds like a great opportunity.  I’d love to be considered.”

Frances giggled, pushing her clipboard up to cover the smile on her face.  They had stopped in front of a series of doors and Aberdeen felt like she was going to have to pick the one without the tiger in it.  “Aberdeen…the Toronto Maple Leafs are a hockey club.  An interest in hockey…even just a little bit, is crucial,” she explained condescendingly.  Aberdeen wondered how someone like this could even get promoted.  “Do you play hockey?

“No.”

“Do you watch hockey?”

“No.”

Frances looked shocked.  “Do you know who the Toronto Maple Leafs are?”

“Of course I know who the Toronto Maple Leafs are,” Aberdeen huffed.  “I just don’t…I mean, I don’t…”

“If I put a picture of Mats Sundin in front of you right now could you pick him apart from Wendel Clark or Doug Gilmour?”

There was an awkward pause.  “Are those Mr. Shanahan’s right-hand men?”

“Oh my God,” Frances muttered under her breath.  “Have you ever been to a game?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lying?”

“No – no, I’m not lying,” Aberdeen said quickly.  “One of my friends – her dad gets tickets through clients or whatever.  I’ll go to maybe one a year with her family.  But it’s not – I’m not like…the experience is fun.”

Before Frances could respond with something that was ruder than the last thing she said, her phone let out a really loud notification.  She balanced the clipboard on one hand as she took out her phone.  But as she looked at the message on the screen, her face dropped.  “Oh my God, oh my God, no!”

Aberdeen’s face dropped too.  “What’s wrong?”

Frances dropped her clipboard onto the desk and ran around it, grabbing the phone receiver and dialling a number.  Almost automatically, she began talking.  “He’s on his way.  Tell everyone the story needs to be retracted now,” she barked before hanging up.  A man walked through another door and suddenly, it was complete mayhem.  People were running through everywhere.  

“He wasn’t supposed to arrive until 9:30.  What happened?” the man asked Frances.

“Those idiots at the Sun had the audacity to actually post the story about his daughter online.  God, these people!” Frances huffed.  

Aberdeen stood awkwardly as everyone seemed to go into mayhem mode.  Frances was running around like a chicken with her head cut off, that one guy had mysteriously disappeared, and men in suits were in and out of everywhere with panicked looks on their faces.  She watched as Frances whipped into the office and began putting stuff out on the desk – a glass of San Pellegrino water, a venti Starbucks, and the sports sections of all the local newspapers.  When she was done, Frances grabbed the clipboard from her desk, a pen, and ran back down the corridor they just came from, leaving Aberdeen there, standing alone.  Awkwardly.  

Eventually, she could hear Frances’s voice again – much more polite this time – and footsteps of very expensive shoes clacking down the hallway.  “Yes Mr. Shanahan, of course.”

“And tell David at The Sun that I’m this close to revoking media access to the locker room if he publishes another article to do with my children ever again,” a voice Aberdeen could only assume was Brendan Shanahan’s was echoing down the hallway.

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Then tell Ben up in the legal department to draw up the paperwork necessary for that to scare them,” she heard, and finally, they rounded the corner.  Frances and Mr. Brendan Shanahan, President of the Toronto Maple Leafs.  He was angry.  Aberdeen could tell, even if she didn’t hear any of his last sentences – his body language showed it all.  She stepped back a few steps so he could get into his office unimpeded, where he would very obviously yell at the top of his lungs once he shut the door.  

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Frances stood in front of Aberdeen, shielding her from Brendan’s view as he looked back at Aberdeen from inside his office.  “Nobody – well – human resources sent her about the personal assistant job and I was going to interview her…but, but she’s hopeless,” she chuckled out, “and totally wrong for the job—”

“Well clearly I’m going to have to do that myself, since the last two you sent me were completely inadequate,” he deadpanned.  Frances’s back stiffened at the words.  “So send her in,” he finished as he sat down at his desk.  

Frances walked out of Mr. Shanahan’s office.  “Mr. Shanahan would like to see you,” she said politely, loud enough for him to hear.  It was when she leaned in closer that she began to whisper so he couldn’t.  “Brendan Shanahan is the absolute nicest person you will ever meet,” she began, “but he is also the busiest, most intense, most dedicated hockey professional in the entire National Hockey League.  Do you understand?”

Aberdeen gulped.  “Yes.”

“And I hope you know that this is a very difficult job for which you re totally wrong, and if you mess up my head is on the chopping block.”

‘That might not be so bad’, Aberdeen thought.  She would have appreciated some words of encouragement, like what Kasha had given her this morning, rather than the shpeal she was getting now.  But Aberdeen digressed, and nodded her head.  She took out a copy of her resume from her purse before walking in.

When she did, she couldn’t help but notice all the fine detailing of his office.  A lot of oak, bookcases, a lot of framed pictures of his family, and a giant Toronto Maple Leaf logo plastered – literally plastered – onto the wall.  He even had a giant oak desk – so regal – in the middle of the room.  

“Who are you?” Brendan asked in a tone much softer, but still angry.

Aberdeen took a deep breath.  This was her time to shine.  “Hi Mr. Shanahan.  My name is Aberdeen Bloom,” she said, stepping forward awkwardly to place her resume on his desk.  “I recently graduated from the University of Toronto—”

“And what are you doing here?” he asked.

Aberdeen blanked.  What was she doing here?  “Um, well, I think I could do a good job as your assistant, and um…” she started, noticing that Brendan was putting on his glasses.  Her gave her a look as those words left her mouth.  He grabbed the newspapers off his desk and placed them in front of him, over her resume.  

‘Alright Aberdeen.  Cut the bullshit’ she told herself.  “Yeah, so, I graduated U of T and want to become a writer.  I sent my resume out everywhere, and my work to try to get published, and finally I got a call from the MLSE human resources department, and…well, basically it’s this or bank-telling.”

Brendan didn’t look up from his newspaper.  “So you’re not a fan of the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

Aberdeen’s body stiffened.  “Uh…no?”

“And before today you had never heard of me.”

“…No.”

There was an awkward pause.  Brendan didn’t seem like he had any more questions in him – if he even cared.  It was so clear that he didn’t and that she was bombing this interview.  But Aberdeen felt more words coming.  “I was recently published in Acta Victoriana, the oldest continuous university magazine in Canada – twice, actually – and was also published in the Hart House Review—”

“I think we’re done here,” Brendan said, not looking up from the newspaper.  That was it.  Cut throat.  Didn’t care.

Aberdeen swallowed her pride.  So this interview was a dumpster fire from the get-go.  But it was him that came in angry and him that came into this without an open mind.  She couldn’t help but scoff at how he dismissed her; he didn’t even have the courtesy to look up.  She turned to walk out.

‘Don’t let it end like this’ her mind told her.  ‘You have so much within you that he doesn’t want to see’.

So she turned around.  “You know what?  You’re right.  I know nothing about hockey,” she began, her voice as strong and powerful as she could make it.  “The woman who brought me in asked if I knew the difference between Matt…Gilmour and something…something Sundin, and I didn’t.  I don’t fit in here,” she continued, noticing that he finally looked up.  “I’m a girl who grew up in an old bungalow in Etobicoke with immigrant parents.  I’m an English major with a double minor in classics and film.  But I’m smart.  I’m really f…really smart, and I learn fast, and I will work hard if you give me the chance to do so here—”

“Good news – they’ve agreed to take down the story,” somebody burst into the room interrupting her speech.  Brendan looked at her until the person laid their iPad down in front of him.  “The tweet linking the article is gone and it’s completely gone off their website.  Adrienne Batra wants to call you to personally apologize.”

“There’s no way I’m speaking to that woman,” Brendan mumbled.  “Tell her I want it in writing.  And one to my daughter as well.”

“Thank you for your…time,” Aberdeen said, as if he gave her any.  She walked out of his office and out of his life forever.  

Aberdeen decided to take the stairs, slowly walking down the flights of stairs, hearing her shoes clack against the bare concrete.  There, she could at least wallow in her self-pity after that train wreck of an interview.  She could deliberate about her next choices and steps.  Keep bank-telling?  Go back and get her Master’s?  Take a new course?  Tell her parents how she was failing?  Move back home?  Never do anything with her life?  Live in her parents’ basement for the rest of her life?  Maybe she should just stay in this stairwell.  Maybe she should start living here, since there was nothing else for her out there in the big wide world.  Maybe she’d become a hermit.

As she finally reached the ground floor, she thanked the receptionist again, who ignored her again.  Typical.  As she was about to walk out of 50 Bay Street, she heard her name being called.  “Aberdeen!”

She turned around.  Frances was waving her back, rolling her eyes at the same time.  Aberdeen furrowed her brows.  Did she forget something?  What was going on?  She scurried over to Frances.  “What’s wrong?”

“Brendan wants to speak to you.”

Aberdeen gulped.  She was going to get yelled at by the President of the Toronto Maple Leafs.  He was going to completely obliterate her entire life and not-yet-burgeoning career for that little stunt she pulled inside his office with that speech, and she’d never be able to find a job anywhere in Toronto again.  She may as well just move into her parents’ basement now.  

As they both rode the elevator back up, Aberdeen’s heart kept beating faster and faster.  “Do you know what he wants to speak about?” Aberdeen asked.

“I have no clue,” Frances said absent-mindedly, typing something into her phone.

When they arrived back upstairs, Frances led her straight back into Brendan’s office.  He was working on his laptop now, instead of reading his newspaper over Aberdeen’s resume.  “Brendan, I have Aberdeen back for you,” Frances announced.

“Excellent,” he said, his voice much more upbeat than what is was five or ten minutes ago.  “Franny, I’d like you to take Aberdeen to get her picture taken for her new MLSE identification badge,” he said.

Frances’s eyes bulged out of her head.  So did Aberdeen’s.  “W-What?” Frances stuttered out.

“And after that, I’d like you to take the town car and take Aberdeen to the Eaton’s Centre to get her an iPad Pro with a keyboard so we can start the process of downloading all the necessary apps and internal mail server she’ll need to do the job.”

Aberdeen’s stomach dropped.  “I…I got the job?” she asked, completely flabbergasted.  Was he nuts?  Completely, certifiably insane?

“You start next Monday.  Is that fine with you?”

Aberdeen found herself nodding.

***

“I’m so glad Steven could get that done for you today,” Brendan said as he rounded the corner of his desk so he could sit in his fancy big chair.  Aberdeen nodded, looking at the screen of her new iPad Pro.  Steven, one of the guys from tech support, had helped her download everything she needed to have on it.  

“Yeah.  It was all really fast.”

“After you finish up here today you may need to go back to the Eaton’s Centre,” Brendan informed her.  “You’re going to need to purchase a work wardrobe.  Keep every receipt because MLSE will reimburse you.  I prefer black, but really…get whatever you think is appropriate for an office.”

“Okay.”

“No heels necessary.  When we travel, I obviously don’t mind something more laid back – especially trips to the west coast.  Do you have a valid and working passport?”

“Yes sir.”

“Make sure you have it when traveling.  Our charter plane will still need to see it.  We’ll make copies.”

“Yes sir.”

“You’ll need to be available every game day.  We usually have Sundays off, but it’s a very untraditional schedule.  You’re okay with that?”

“Yes sir.”

“And I have your contract for you,” he said, grabbing some paperwork on the desk.  “We’ll have someone from the legal department come and explain it shortly,” he handed it to her, “but you’ll see the salary at the bottom of the first page.”  Aberdeen looked down.  Her eyes bulged at the number.  “If everything is to your liking, then we can sign.”

“Okay,” she nodded her head.  She gulped.  

Brendan looked at Aberdeen and could tell she was nervous – it was obvious in her short “Yes sir” responses anyway, but she looked like she wanted to curl into her shell.  “Before Ben from legal gets here, I would like to apologize about this morning,” he said.  “A local newspaper ran an article about one of my daughters, and my children…well, my children are completely off-limits.  Everybody knows that.  But sometimes some journalists like to see how far they can take things, even though they know family is off limits.”

Aberdeen understood where he was coming from.  If anyone ever said anything bad about Siena or Camden, she’d have their head on a spike.  She couldn’t even imagine what it was like for a father, or any parent for that matter, to have an article published about their child without their permission.  “I understand, Mr. Shanahan.”

“We are like a family here, you know – MLSE, but the Leafs especially.  You will feel part of that family soon enough.”

Aberdeen nodded nervously.  “I’m sure I will, Mr. Shanahan.”

“Well…” he shrugged his shoulders, leaning back in his chair and smiling at her.  “Congratulations, Miss Bloom.  You are now an employee of MLSE.”

***

“With the Leafs?!” Kasha was shocked when Aberdeen told her.  She’d started pouring glasses of wine when Aberdeen told her she got a job, but once she revealed the specifics, Kasha was shocked.  “Gosh Aberdeen, remember when my dad would bring me, you, and Siena to games with the company season tickets?”

“I know.”

“And now you’re working for them?!”

“For the President.  I’m his personal assistant.”

“Oh my God!” Kasha exclaimed.  “Seriously though, I bet a million jocks would kill for that job,” she commented as she finished pouring the wine.  

“Yeah.  Great,” Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  “Thing is, I’m not one of them.”

“Well, you gotta start somewhere, right?” Kasha offered.  She picked up both wine glasses, handing one to Aberdeen.  Kasha held her glass up.  “To jobs that pay the rent.”

Aberdeen giggled.  “To jobs that pay the rent.”

[libsterslobsters]

Ramble On

Summary: Late night phone calls are rarely good, especially when they come from someone known for texting. Or maybe, just this once, it's for the best

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x gem! enhanced! Reader

(Reader sees bits of the future, understands all languages, and processes information abnormally quickly)

Warnings: Strong language, tiny bit of angst, mostly fluff

Author's note: Reader is unnamed, but when I'm writing this character, I call her Violet.

*************************************************

 As she rolls over, rearranging the covers around her for what must be the fiftieth time in an hour, she catches sight of the bedside clock. 2 a.m. She really needs to get to sleep. She has an interview in the morning, after all. The only problem: she can’t, too worried about what the outcome will be to get any rest.

 There’s so much riding on this one meeting. If she gets the job, teaching English as a second language at an actual college in Bucharest as opposed to in her apartment, her whole life will change. It will no longer be a constant struggle to stay afloat, often leading to the choice of whether she’s going to pay her heating or electric bill this month, eat or have a place to live.

 Applying for any job is a risk, because what if they look her up and a notification pops up on SHIELD’s radar? She’s forged her papers well, payed the right person to invent a background for her, but while it may hold up under the Romanians’ scrutiny, will it be enough to convince anyone lurking in the shadows that she’s a perfectly normal woman with nothing to hide? Or will there be a knock on her door in the middle of the night, followed by her being captured, herded onto a plane and then locked in a cell or worse?

 Rolling over once again, she tries to convince herself that enough time has passed, she looks different enough from the scared eighteen year old that flagged the American government’s interest when she fool-hardily took a job as an intern translator and performed a little too well.

 It’s not long before she’s tossing and turning once more, and this time her phone’s screen lights up. 2:30. Only three and a half more hours before she’s got to get up and prepare for the day ahead. She wishes she had some tea left, but she ran out three days ago. For a few minutes, she plays on her phone, rereading old messages between Barnes and herself, but eventually she has to stop. Thinking about him definitely isn’t helping her sleep, especially since she knows, no matter how much she wishes it were otherwise, he’ll never care for her the way she cares for him.

 Chiding herself for allowing the foolish longing for something different, for the man who’s only ever been kind to her, treated her like a close friend, to want her, she tosses her phone to the side and closes her eyes. She’s completely unaware that, inadvertently, she’s hit the little icon of a telephone and on the other side of the city, a ringing noise is filling the air.

__________________________________________________________________________________ 

 He’s not asleep when his phone rings. Not even so much as dozing. Still, it takes a few moments for Bucky to put together that the whirring noise is coming from his phone, and he should probably check to see who it is. As her name flashes on the screen, all weariness disappears, replaced at first by excitement, and then when he answers, receiving no reply, worry. It’s not like her to call this late, or really, to call at all without texting first to make sure he’s free (even though he’s told her multiple times to call whenever she likes, he’ll always answer). His first instinct is to rush over to her apartment and make sure she’s alright, but ultimately, a cooler head prevails. He should try to call her back first. Maybe they have a bad connection and she couldn’t hear him.

 That’s what he does, and after the third ring, she picks up.

 “Bucky?” It’s said in a voice that’s rough with disuse. “What’s going on? Are you alright?” That’s supposed to be his line.

 “I’m fine. What about you?” He hears her yawn over the line.

 “Dealing with some insomnia, but nothing huge.” Funny. She sounds exhausted.

 “Is that why you called? You’re having trouble sleeping?”

 “What?” He can imagine her brow furrowing in keeping with the confusion in her voice. “I didn’t call.”

 “You did. Didn’t say anything, though.”

 There’s a pause, and then-

 “Crap. I’m sorry, Buck. I must’ve rolled over on my phone and accidentally called you.” Oh. Now it makes sense.

 “It’s alright.”

 He’s about to tell her that his night’s so much better for hearing her voice, but stops short at the last second. It’s been going on for a few months, these casual dates at one or the other of their apartments, occasionally a cheap restaurant in the city, or just out for a walk. Still, he hasn’t so much as kissed her yet, too worried that he’ll push too far and frighten her, or worse, make her feel like she has to do something she doesn’t truly want. She hasn’t made a move to speed things up either, so he’s waiting, taking things slow. It doesn’t bother him; he’s got all the time in the world on his hands, and frankly, he’s enjoying just getting to know all the little things about her.  Still, he doesn’t want to come on too strong, so he simply says,

 “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

 “Nothing.” She chuckles, but he can tell it’s faked for his benefit. “I’ll let you go now.”

 “No, you won’t. You’re going to tell me what’s keeping you up so that maybe you can get some rest before the sun comes up.” He internally winces as his words. It sounds like he’s ordering her around.

 “Alright.” She sighs. “I have that interview tomorrow-” He nods, even though she can’t see him. “-and I think I’m just too in my head about it, you know? I keep going over all the ways it could go south, and the more I try to push that aside, the more I think about it.” 

 He chooses his words carefully, knowing that it’s not just the possibility that she won’t get the job that’s worrying her.

 “They don’t check things as closely here as they do back home. And even if they did decide to do some sort of background check, so far as all your paperwork is concerned, you’re just another college grad looking to put your teaching degree to use.”

 He may have done a little reconnaissance, gotten into certain government buildings not open to the public and checked out exactly what they know about her just to make sure her forgeries would stand up, but she doesn’t need to know that. It would just worry her that he’s taking unnecessary risks over something she doesn’t consider a necessity.

 “I know. It’s just a niggling feeling. Not a vision or anything. Just paranoia.” 

 Speaking of…

 “Have you had any visions lately?” Sometimes they’re funny. Sometimes useful. Sometimes, downright bizarre.

 “Yes. I’m having one right now of you sitting up in bed, talking on the phone when you should definitely be sleeping because you’re too polite to tell me I woke you up.”

 “Must be something that hasn’t happened yet, because I’m actually lying down, and I was wide awake when you called.” He hopes that’ll be enough to assuage her guilt.

 “Hm… I’m calling bullshit on that, Barnes. Have you looked at the time? It’s nearly three a.m.”

 “It is, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was up.” She’s not going to believe him unless he explains. “I don’t sleep much.” 

 “Part of the super soldier thing?”

 “I don’t think so. More like I’m afraid that if I close my eyes, they’ll get the drop on me and put me back on ice.” He definitely didn’t mean to say that last part, but now that it’s out there, he can’t take it back.

 “Bucky, you need to sleep. That’s not healthy.” The corners of his lips turn up. All the way across the city, awake at three a.m., and she’s scolding him for not getting his beauty rest.

 “Neither is worrying about a job interview that you’ve got in the bag since you’re a great teacher.”

 They’d be stupid not to hire her. She literally speaks every language on the planet, and even though they won’t know that part, she’s still completely qualified. Plus, she’ll give this job her all, work harder than anyone else they could possibly hire, because she actually cares about the people she’s teaching. Them; not just their lives so far as it pertains to her classroom.

 “How would you know that? You’ve never been one of my students.” Maybe not, but she’s taught him so much, like how to be alive again instead of just surviving. But, he should probably keep that to himself.

 “Well, I already speak English.”

 “Good point. Spanish, then?”

 “Afraid I speak that one too.”

 “French? Mandarin?”

 “Yes and yes.”

 “What about gibberish? Surely you’re not fluent in gibberish.” 

 He chuckles.

 “You’ve got me there. I don’t speak it.”

 “That’s too bad, because I’m only conversational.” Another yawn sounds from her side of the phone. “Alright, this time I really am letting you go.” Good. Hopefully, she’s finally able to get some rest now that she’s shifted some of the weight of her worries to him. “Goodnight, Bucky. Thanks for talking me down.”

 “Goodnight, Doll. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

 As the call ends, his phone flashing the length of their conversation, Bucky finds that maybe, just maybe, he’ll get some sleep tonight after all.

[lonelyheartsclubhaze]

Chilly mornings away from home

January 2019 // Chapter 4

Soft piano notes waded their way into my mind, rousing me from sleep. Erik Satie’s “Gymnopédie No. 1” complemented streaks of sunlight that seeped in from cracks between the window shutters.

I rolled onto my stomach, patting along the bedsheets, searching for the alarm’s source. Locating my iPhone under a fluffy body pillow, I quickly tapped the snooze button, earning myself nine more minutes of repose.

Mornings were always so disorienting. I still had yet to remember where and when I was. Such things could wait. Clinging onto that snoozy state of nonexistence, I didn’t want to wake up. I was eager for unmindfulness.

Inevitably coming to, dizziness hit like a military grade tank as I realized that my bed was facing the wrong way. My morning senses spun westward from their southern-facing expectations. Cracking my eyes open a few nanometers more, baby blue walls, rather than white, met my gaze. I faced a medium size flatscreen TV set atop a brown cabinet bordered by cream, cushioned seats and a black mini-refrigerator.

It was so easy to be surprised by mornings. Here I was, expecting one thing and receiving another. It wasn’t a huge deal, and they were natural mistakes, but jeez, was I caught off guard. My bed typically faced a window on the southern side of my room in Berkeley, confined by white walls under high ceilings. Unlike my room in Berkeley, however, the ceilings in this place were much lower with windows much wider. My forgetfulness fading, I remembered why I was in this barely decent Denver hotel room, namely, for a job interview.

Grimacing, I also remembered that the aforementioned job interview had taken place yesterday—giving me a sense for why I might have preferred snoozy states of nonexistence to waking life. It was for some technician role at a Pharma-lab. And while they didn’t pay anything close to what Ajay would be receiving at Facebook (while still remaining just as controversial), money was money. Plus, it seemed like a good way to boost my med school app during the summer. Worst case scenario: I’d just spend the upcoming summer studying for the MCAT, which had to happen sooner or later. At this rate, however, it was looking like the worst case scenario would be my only scenario.

Oh well. With a redeye flight the next morning and the interview out of the way, I had a day to kill in Denver. Classes were still on hold for another week-and-a-half and since everyone was home for the holidays, Grace had offered to put me up at her place for the day. She was supposed to come by around nine AM to pick me up.

I rubbed my eyes and pulled up the blanket. The AC units at hotels were always freezing cold—particularly on especially inconvenient occasions, like now, right smack in the middle of a January morning. I flipped over my phone and turned off the alarm. The clock read seven-twenty-one AM. Just enough time to get ready and grab a quick bite before Grace was to arrive.

My hands smacked against the headboard of the bed mid-stretch, my wrists rolling as I struggled to fully wake up. Sitting up, I checked my phone for missed messages, sending out short, succinct text messages where they were needed. I cracked my neck and thrust my legs off the tall bed, my feet grazing the hotel carpet. I stood up, stretching my arms toward the spinning fan that hung from the low ceiling, and started toward the bathroom, tossing my iPhone onto the bathroom counter.

The shower roared to life with the turn of a knob. I grabbed a hotel-provided toothbrush and some paste on my way to the shower, along with a travel-size bottle of CeraVe foaming face wash. Inside, water rushed over my short, black hair, splashing onto medium broad shoulders and size ten-and-a-half feet as I washed my face. After mopping my chest, toes, and everything in-between with an ivory bar of soap, I squirted some toothpaste onto the brush and got to work, counting out one-hundred-twenty seconds in my head. Finally, I turned off the water and reached around the shower curtain for a towel. Drying myself off, I stepped out of the shower and packed up my bath supplies into a compact travel bag.

I shook the towel over my head to dry my hair and tapped on my iPhone screen to find one new notification. Hovering my face over the phone to unlock it, a blue message from Maddie read:

To which I replied:

She followed with:

Heart racing, I replied:

Two minutes passed. I held my breath.

Four minutes—then, a small blurb of text underneath my last message read:

Read 7:46 AM

I sighed and put down my phone. My face contorted as a profusion of expletives rushed my thoughts. Shouldn’t have double-texted her.

I supposed that it didn’t matter too much. She was with someone, anyway. When I’d seen her in December, before we’d left for winter holidays, she’d been at Bear’s Ramen House in the Asian Ghetto—the food hub a block from Sproul Hall—eating with some guy I’d seen around, probably on campus. He was a moderately wealthy, white kid from Marin studying one of the various biology sub-majors offered by Cal. He was also a junior, like Maddie, so a year ahead of me, as if his towering six-foot-three-inch figure wasn’t enough to give him a leg up on me with regards to Maddie. I didn’t know him all that well, despite having had a discussion section or two with him, though we greeted each other with a polite nod of the head when passing by one another in the Valley Life Sciences Building (VLSB) or in the library. To be honest, I didn’t even remember his name, just his face. His outfits often consisted of athleisure wear from Nike and/or Champion, giving off the impression that he played sports. I wasn’t quite sure whether or not this impression was accurate, but I did sometimes see him on the Glade or other grassy campus sites playing Spikeball, accompanied by peers with faces I vaguely recognized.

We’d often talk, Maddie and I. Sometimes I’d run into her on the spiral staircase at VLSB—the stairs that’d curl around the large, plaster T-Rex model to face broad windows on the east, granting access to the morning sun. She’d be on her way to a bio lab downstairs; me, on my way to the private, grad student bathroom that I’d secretly gained access to on the second floor. The restroom upstairs was protected by a keypad, but the code was too obvious: 362 362, or DNA DNA.

“Wonder where you could be going,” she’d say.

“Just need to make sure my hair is okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to get a few extra points from Professor Meighan,” I’d joke back.

“Do you poop here everyday?” she’d ask with wide eyes. “Or maybe you just like seeing me, huh? Is that it?”

I’d freeze up.

She’d laugh, saying, “Maybe a little bit of both, right, J?”

“Nothing gets past you,” I’d mumble.

“You’re funny,” she’d say. “You should have your own TV show. Maybe once you’re done with your residency you can join Grey’s Anatomy, or Scrubs. Or maybe you can have a talk show! Like Dr. Phil, but more funny and less depressing.”

“What about me gives off the impression that I’d ever want to have a TV show, at all, in any way whatsoever?” I’d say, shaking my head.

“See? Just like that! Always asking the right questions! Like Ellen DeGeneres but all doctor-like.”

She tended to tease me a lot. I didn’t mind. In fact, it was probably part of her appeal—definitely was, on second thought.

Like a good portion of the many pre-med students out there, Maddie was a biology major. Berkeley offered a few different options for bio students, and I’m pretty sure she was studying molecular and cellular biology, though it’s hard for me to say. If I wanted to remember something about her, I’d write it down in my iPhone notes. Otherwise, my hippocampus tended to toss it out, preferring to form memories of her nose, her lips, and those low cut shirts that left me off balance.

We’d text back-and-forth about classes, sometimes. A lot less after I saw her eating with what’s-his-face. I didn’t blame her.

My phone read eight AM. I tossed on a waffle knit shirt and long johns, then a Columbia fleece and Levi jeans, topping it off with an aged ski jacket that I’d ‘borrowed’ from Adam, who was up in Tahoe at least twice a month in the winter. I slung the beaten, black JanSport backpack containing my belongings over my shoulders and headed out the hotel door, making for the elevator.

The room door shut quietly behind as I banked right into a narrow corridor housing four elevators, two on each side. I pressed a button to summon one and within a minute, the light above the furthest elevator on my right blinked on. The door opened and I entered, clicking the button indicating the main lobby of the hotel. The door shut and the elevator fell five floors before slowing to let in an older, Black woman wearing a fitted, bell-shaped hat.

“Ground floor?” I asked.

She smiled sweetly. “Yes, honey. Thank you.”

We descended the final four floors in silence. Arriving at the ground floor, the elderly woman smiled and nodded at me before exiting first. I followed her out, glanced down at my iPhone, then diverged from her path as I headed toward the central lobby to check out. After snapping my room key card in half, I left the hotel, walking toward a Caribou Coffee a few blocks north.

Under the warm skies of Seal Beach, California, where I was born and raised, people tended to take their coffee with ice more often than here in Denver, Colorado. Every Friday, my mother would pick up an americano for herself—black, with no cream or sugar—on her way to work. I’d tag along as a kid, but sooner than later elementary school drop-offs morphed into middle school bike rides, then high school walks with pretty girls I swore I had a chance with, and then the here-and-now, flying Economy for interviews that wouldn’t yield job offers.

It’s funny—when I was a kid I practically hated being seen with my parents. At back-to-school events—the evenings when parents conglomerated to celebrate the annual accomplishments of their children—I wouldn’t be caught dead near my family. Somehow, I thought it made me look childish, or immature. After graduating from high school, however, I started seeing them less and less, and I began to find myself missing mom’s morning espresso runs more and more.

It seemed as though I must have picked up my mother’s coffee drinking habits, because when I arrived at the Caribou Coffee on sixteenth street at approximately eight-twenty-five AM, I too ordered an americano with no cream or sugar.

“That comes out to three-thirty-nine,” said the female barista. She wore a black apron over red and black striped under-layers, with a white wool beanie on her head, and deep black mascara on her eyelashes.

I thanked her and handed over three dollar bills along with some loose change from my jacket pocket.

“On second thought,” I said, retracting my hand. “Can I also get one of those?” I gestured to a blueberry scone behind the glass counter.

“Sure. Just three extra dollars.” she said.

I counted out three extra dollar bills, handing the money to the barista. Then I walked over to a small rounded table situated near the entrance and sat down. Scanning my iPhone, I saw that Grace had texted me, so I responded, asking her to pick me up at the Denver sixteenth street Caribou Coffee. Then I put my phone away and tapped silently along the underside of the table, slightly impatient for my pastry and drink.

I wondered what Grace had in mind for the day. I hadn’t seen her since—well, I suppose it wasn’t that long ago—final exams last semester. Personally, Grace and I had yet to have a class together, but Adam always took one or two bullshit classes with her, so she was often around my house anyway—especially during the week of final exams, when they’d study together all day long. As an English major, she had it pretty easy schedule-wise. She hardly stressed, at least outwardly, and was rarely overburdened with work, so she never missed a chance to chat it up with my housemates or me when Adam brought her over. She was really likable too. Even Albert got along with her, making small talk about Proust or the latest Pulitzer Prize winning novel from Jennifer Egan, and that’s saying a lot.

She always made it a point to stop by my room upstairs, at 2231 Dwight, waving ‘hello’ to me before vanishing for hours into the recesses of Adam’s single downstairs. I really liked that about her.

A small vibration from my left pant pocket convinced me to reach in. I pulled out my iPhone and saw that Grace had texted me. She was to arrive a bit early, in fifteen or so, around eight-fifty-five AM. She was driving in a black Honda Civic, she’d said. I texted her back to let her know that I’d be ready.

“I’ve got a medium americano and a blueberry scone!” called the barista.

I stood up, pulling my jacket over the chair to mark my temporary territory, then hurried over to the counter to grab my order. “Thanks,” I said before hurrying back to my table, balancing the warm, paper cup in one hand with the scone in the other.

Sitting back down at the table, I huffed down the scone. Then I took off the lid of the cup, wisps of steam condensing on the furl of my lip. I blew gently, cooling the drink.

I sipped slowly, then decided to put on my jacket and wait outside. Grace would be here any minute and I didn’t want her to miss me. I was getting sick of waiting by myself anyway. Walking outside, an icy burst of air cut right through me. I shivered, then zipped up Adam’s ski jacket. It was a good thing that it wasn’t snowing, because it was cold enough as it was.

I paced around for a bit, rubbing my hands to keep warm, until finally, a black Honda Civic with a freckled girl at its helm slowed to a stop slightly ahead of the sixteenth street coffee shop.

Grace rolled down the passenger window. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said back. My pace quickened as my feet approached her car.

“I missed you, dude,” she said. “Come on, let’s go. It’s freezing outside.” A crimson hoodie hid most of her delicate contours, though the graceful arcs that formed over her breasts hinted at something more. The left side of her chest housed a star-shaped sports logo with the words ‘Broomfield Soccer Club’ below in a decorative typeface.

I opened the car door and hopped into the passenger seat. Gusts of warm air ruffled my hair.

She reached over the center console and squeezed me in a close hug. “How was break?”

“Pretty good. I mean, I was finally able to—”

“Bruh,” she groaned. “Did you read Science?”

“What?”

“The magazine,” she said, squinting her eyes.

I cocked my head to the side. “Was I supposed to?”

Grace rolled her eyes and sighed. “Can you?”

“Is there something I should be looking for?”

“Oh my god. Take out your phone.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now. Jesus-fucking-Christ, J.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling the iPhone from my jean pocket.

“Okay.” She cracked her finger knuckles. “Google ‘butterflies’.”

“Grace—” I started.

“Come on. Look it up.”

“Okay. Just because you’re asking.” I opened Chrome’s mobile browser on my phone, typed in ‘butterflies’, and pressed ‘search’.

She cleared her throat.

“Butterfly,” I read. “An insect from the ma-cro-lep-id-opt-er-an clade Rho-pal-o-cer-a, from the order Lep-id-op-tera—”

“No!” She snatched my phone and scrolled down. “Here. California’s monarch butterfly count drops by eighty-six percent, just last year!”

I raised my eyebrows. “Is butterfly watching a hobby you picked up over break or something?”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

I coughed to cover a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t know you took butterflies so seriously.”

“God, and I’m supposed to go to a guy like you for my yearly checkups?” she gasped.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Grace—”

“I don’t want to hear it, insect-killer.” She blew aside a tuft of hair from her forehead. “So, how was it?”

“How was what?”

“How was break?”

“Oh. Right,” I said. “Well, I finally got around to watching that show you and Adam were talking about last semester.”

“Peaky Blinders?” Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, it’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I really like Tommy’s brother, Arthur. I think he’s funny. I’m not too sure how I feel about Polly yet, though, but then again I’m only on season three.”

“Adam fucks with Arthur too. Personally, I’m more of a John-kinda-person. I think he’s less murderous than Arthur. Kills too much. How’s Adam doing, though?”

“Honestly, you probably know better than me. Haven’t seen him since we left for home.”

“I feel it.”

Grace made a sharp right onto the I-25 freeway, accelerating until our speed plateaued around ninety miles per hour. I gripped the sides of my seat—ninety was a little too fast for my tastes. I considered myself a defensive driver. Dull buildings bordered the freeway shoulders, and I tried to focus on them to distract myself from Grace’s driving.

“What do you say we stop by a park or something, J? Not really tryna see my parents right now.” Grace glanced at me, her hands still on the wheel.

I felt a bit queasy watching her take her eyes off the road. “Yeah, works for me. Something going on?”

“Eh, the usual. Just get sick of ‘em being home for so long,” she said. “But anyhow, I have a ball in the trunk. We can kick it around or some shit.”

The road grew bumpier as we drove over a waterway on the way to Grace’s neighborhood. Spoiled by scenic coastal sights on the drive up to Berkeley, the glum scenes around me felt sobering. I tapped my foot, eager to get out of the car.

Eventually, Grace took exit 225 on the right, keeping left to merge onto East One-hundred-thirty-sixth Avenue. We passed a stucco structure with a sign that read ‘Broomfield’.

“Almost there,” said Grace. “I know just the spot.”

Finally, Grace made a left into a small parking lot bordered by bright green, grassy fields on one end and unkempt trails on the other. “Quail park. I grew up playing soccer here.”

I looked around. I was glad to be there—it certainly yielded better views than the drive had. “It’s pretty.”

Grace popped open the trunk and pulled out a soccer ball and pump. She filled it with air quickly, then gestured for me to carry the ball. We walked over to the open fields, brushing permafrost aside as we squished the grass beneath our feet. Back and forth, we kicked the ball to one another, Grace showing off every now and then by booting the ball over her head and onto her knees, juggling it for ten, maybe twenty bounces before passing it back to me.

“So?” she said. “Did you kill the interview?”

I winced. “Not exactly.”

Grace toed the ball inward, using its momentum to whip the ball onto the flat of her foot. With a touch of force, she tapped the ball into the air and into her hands. “Come on, J. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

I smiled a bit. “It really was though.”

She laughed and dropped the ball to her feet. Passing it back to me, she said, “Ah, whatever. You don’t want to work in Denver anyway. You’re not cut out for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at you. You’ve been shivering your ass off since I picked you up, dummy. And I have heated seats!” she said.

“Hey,” I started. “You’re not wrong.”

“Rarely am. Anyhow, how are things with, uh, you know . . .”

“Maddie?” I finished.

“Yes, right, Maddie.”

“She texted me this morning.”

“Oooooh,” said Grace. “How’s Brandon gonna feel about that?”

Ah, right, Brandon. How could I forget?

“Brandon . . . Right. Well, I doubt that it’s a major concern of his at the moment. She left me on read anyway.”

“Oh. Well, it’s her loss anyhow. She’s missing out on a star athlete!” said Grace as she punted the ball, knocking me square in the chest.

“Fucking shit!” I howled.

“You sound like Adam more and more everyday,” she said.

“So dreams do come true.”

“Isn’t it funny,” said Grace, juggling the ball on her quads. “Don’t you feel like certain words belong to certain people?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like, don’t you associate certain words with certain people? Like every swear word with Adam, for example, and or maybe, I’m sure there are some you have in mind for Maddie or whoever.”

“You sure you’re not projecting, Grace?” I asked.

This time she threw the ball at me, and it proceeded to hit me right on the head. We kicked around for another hour or so, talking about this or that—how final exams went; our plans for the semester; and Pac-12 Women’s soccer, despite an utter lack of knowledge regarding the sport’s conference on my part. Around five-thirty in the late afternoon, we decided to get something to eat, so Grace drove us to a Vietnamese spot called Golden Bowl Noodle House which she heralded as the greatest phở restaurant on the west coast.

We sat down in blue booth seats across from one another, red and gold walls bordering us on my left. A large, square, green painting depicting an ocean scene lined the wall between us. I ordered the same thing as Grace, the Combo Number One, which consisted of a small rare steak phở, 2 spring rolls, and an iced tea. Grace asked to change hers to a warm tea, which was probably the better move in hindsight. Our drinks arrived first, and we sipped on them slowly. I was hungry—blueberry scones could only provide so much sustenance.

A robed Asian woman, with a slight hunch in her back as she hobbled over, arrived with a tray carrying two bowls of soupy noodles; four translucent wrapped appetizers; and a small dish with bean sprouts, Thai basil, and other add-ons. She bowed slightly and left us to our meals, so I looked over at Grace who had already taken her first bite from a spring roll. I followed her lead, feeling the cool cloak of rice wrappers over fresh shrimp, cilantro, and basil. Taking a bite, my teeth met shrimp with just the right amount of snap, the unexpected tang of hoisin sauce gifting a pleasant surprise.

Grace smacked my hand. “Use the peanut sauce! You gotta appreciate it properly, cuz some people can’t. Did you know that the rate of food allergies is increasing rapid as fuck—especially in developed nations like the US?”

I did as she said, dipping the spring roll into the gloppy, brown sauce. She wasn’t wrong—it was better that way. After swallowing my last bite of the spring rolls, Grace tossed some bean sprouts into my soup and squeezed lime juice over my bowl.

“You know this isn’t my first time eating phở, right?” I said.

Grace hushed me and continued eating. I watched her twirl a handful of noodles into her chopsticks, lifting them to her mouth over a soup spoon. Noisy slurps concluded with sapid bites followed by quick sips of tea. Rinse and repeat.

I opted for a fork, twisting firm noodles around its prongs as best I could, gulping down spoonfuls of savory soup in between steak and noodle bites. I watched the red meat cook to a brownish hue, the hot broth’s steam parting like sea waves under my chin.

“I’ll give it to you,” I said. “It’s good.”

Grace glanced at me, nodded, and continued eating. Finishing promptly, she leaned back into her chair and exhaled heavily.

I rushed to keep up with her, but it took me significantly longer to finish. Sooner or later, the robed woman limped over with the bill. I rose to my feet and met her halfway. I pulled out a Mastercard and slipped it into the folded check before handing it back to her and sitting back down with Grace.

“Real gentleman, aren’t you?”

“It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me today. Besides, you’ve just introduced me to the ‘best phở on the west coast’, right?”

“Suppose that’s true. Okay, you’re right, dinner on you.”

The restaurant owner signaled that I could take back my card, so I walked over, tipped four-and-a-half dollars, tucked away my card, and we left for the car.

Grace’s eyelids were a bit heavy, so I asked her if she wanted me to drive. She handed me her keys and jumped into the passenger seat. After I buckled into the driver seat and turned the key in the ignition, she directed me to make a right out of the parking lot. I drove slowly back to her house, which was only ten or so minutes away, then pulled into her garage. The garage led into a two-story, vinyl sided, upper-middle class home with a comely, green lawn out front.

“Come on. I’ll show you to the guest room.”

I followed her over hardwood floors into the living room, where a tall, white man with square sunglasses over his eyes and a black beanie atop his head shuffled through TV channels with a remote. The lights were off in the room even though the sun had set a little less than an hour prior.

“How are you doing, sir?” I asked.

“Wassup?” he said.

“Oh,” I said. “How are you today, sir?”

“All good.” He took a long draw from an IPA resting on the coffee table in front of him. “Catch y’all. Gracey—you got trash, yea?”

Before Grace could reply, a voice called from the kitchen around the corner, “I got today, hun!”

We nodded in acknowledgment to the man and turned to leave. “Must be your dad?” I asked.

“Yup,” she said. And that was the end of it.

I followed Grace into the kitchen. A woman—her mother, presumably—with a polka dot apron around her neck and a noticeable accent in her voice greeted us warmly. I was surprised by the speed of the woman as she rushed me with a sturdy hug, a tactic she then repeated on her daughter.

“Are you Filipino?” she asked, placing a motherly hand on my shoulder.

“No, ma’am.”

“Ayo,” she said. “No problem. Sleep good, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for letting me stay—”

“Sorry about him, mom,” said Grace. She hit me on the back playfully and the two women burst into laughter in unison. “You’re always welcome, J.”

I smiled, said goodbye, and trailed Grace as she led me up a winding staircase to a small bedroom encapsulated by canary yellow walls laden with rooster prints. The room housed a twin bed and two lamps with cube-ish shades. The bedsheets matched the walls, realistic rooster designs corresponding with the overarching theme of the bedroom.

“Don’t ask,” said Grace. “Night, J. Sleep up.”

I hugged Grace and thanked her. “Night.”

It was still early, only six-thirty or so, so I plopped onto the bed and pulled out my iPhone, intent on watching YouTube videos to pass some time. I chuckled to myself as I admired the chicken print theme of the room.

Clicking my phone to life, I was surprised to find text messages from Maddie that read:

I sighed and put the iPhone down as my heart rate spiked into the mid eighties.

[dickd0c]

STRIKE

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — “day five, part one”

"Who's Lucas?"

Nic's eyes shot open. She turned her head to see Alpha standing by her side of the bed, looking down at her phone that was resting on the bedside table. She frowned and turned onto her side, grabbing her phone.

"Were you going through my phone?" she asked accusatively, sitting up as she rubbed her bleary eyes.

"No," Alpha shrugged, face stoney. "I was just checking the time and saw his notification. What was he doing texting you at 1:00 AM?"

"Why does it matter?" Nic replied, giving him an odd look. "He's a friend, that's all."

"If he's a friend, why are you getting defensive?" Alpha retorted, narrowing those cold eyes down at her. He then shook his head and straightened his back. "Know what? Never mind, you're right. It really doesn't matter. But get ready, Athena wants to talk to all of us."

Nic watched Alpha walk away before she pulled her phone out and swiped it open.

Lucas Received 1:17 AM you there?

Lucas Sent 9:06 AM hey :) how was your interview btw?

Nic waited a few moments, about to turn her phone off and get up when the three little dots at the bottom of the screen popped up.

Lucas Received 9:07 AM morning :)

Lucas Received 9:07 not bad, they didn't seem to mind that I smelled like coffee

Lucas Sent 9:08 AM good, I hope we get to work together then

Nic smiled and turned her phone off, hurrying to her room to get ready. She didn't waste time just basking in the shower like she normally would, but got right to work scrubbing her body and washing her hair. She got dressed in the usual lounge shorts and sweat pants, choosing not to put any product in her wet hair as she walked out her room and towards the living room where she assumed everyone else would be.

She walked in and saw Riot and Athena already sitting there, and she plopped herself down on the empty loveseat.

"So... what did you wanna talk about?" Nic asked Athena, cross her legs and getting comfortable.

"Let's wait for Tank," she responded, looking a little irritated, though not at anyone in particular.

Alpha walked over from the kitchen with a glass of water, nestling into a seat beside Riot as he raised the cup to his lips. "What's taking him so long?" he mused, eyes momentarily flicking to Nic.

"You know how he is about his hair," Riot said with an amused smile, leaning back into the sofa.

Nic frowned, a confused expression on her face. "But it always looks messy," she noted.

"Floppy," Tank corrected, sounding clearly offended. Nic turned her head to see him walking into the living room with a pout on his face, giving a glare to everyone else. "It's floppy, not messy, and it takes effort." He plopped down onto the loveseat beside Nic with a grunt, sighing as he leaned into it.

Nic rolled her eyes, which made him nudge her playfully.

Athena cleared her throat, catching everyone's attention. Nic saw the distressed look on her face and frowned, concerned.

"Are you okay? What's going on?" she asked, leaning forward a little.

Athena sighed, glancing away before looking back and making eye contact with Nic. "My parents are throwing a party," she said mournfully, as if she had told Nic that her grandmother had just passed away.

Next to Nic, Tank inhaled a sharp breath like a hiss. Riot reached over to pat a comforting hand on Athena's back. Even Alpha had something close to a sympathetic look on his statuesque face. Meanwhile, Nic was sitting there befuddled.

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, sounding dumb as hell.

Tank leaned over to mumble in her ear. "They're not on good terms," he explained, using his hands while talking. "Her parents aren't the type of homophobic parents to disown her. No, they're still in denial. And they're still trying to send her to conversion therapy."

Nic scowled fiercely, as if she were scowling to Athena's parents themselves. "They sound absolutely shitty," she decided, softening her gaze when Athena looked at her.

"Yeah, um, they're making me come," Athena sighed, massaging her temples with her hands. "Well, not making me, but I have to go. It's their anniversary, you know? But I can't go alone..."

It took the rest a few moments to realize what Athena was asking for, and then the room was filled with "of course!" and "anything for you" and "we'll make sure you don't have to talk to them." Nic smiled as reassuringly as she could as she watched Riot pull Athena into a side hug.

Then something struck her.

"Wait," she said suddenly, turning to Tank as her mind was filled with memories of the first time she talked to the four of them. They had told her that they couldn't tell her their "real" names, and somehow, Nic hadn't questioned it (I usually hate when ppl interrupt the story with their notes......but I can't......someone let me know how I forgot to bring up the whole real name shit....please don't rip on Nic in the comments RIP ON ME LMAO).

"What?" Tank turned to her, eyebrow quirked.

"Did your parents... really name you guys Tank, Alpha, Athena, and Riot?" she asked, an incredulous expression on her face.

Tank grinned that lopsided grin, a bellowing laughter escaping from his mouth attracting the attention of the other three people in the room. He turned to them, wiping a tear with his thumb, and said, "She thinks these are our real names!"

Nic quickly scrambled for recovery, trying to talk over the amused comments flying at her, saying, "No! I'm just wondering what they really are!"

Athena, now grinning widely, choked out a response amidst her laughter. "These are not our real names, how thick would our parents have to be? Though Athena is my middle name, so that's where we got mine from."

"So you guys chose these nicknames?" Nic asked, frowning.

"Yeah," Riot nodded, "and they kinda stuck. So we use them as aliases in protests, and even with each other. "

Kinda like the Marauders, Nic thought to herself. She was a bit of a Harry Potter nerd back in middle school, having bought the entire book series. They were soft covers, not hard covers, so she wasn't that crazy (yes, I am talking about myself).

"So... what are your names?" she asked softly, tilting her head.

Tank stuck his hand out for her to shake, doing so firmly when she slipped hers into it. "Kaden Slater! You can call me Kade, though I prefer Slater. Or just Tank. Tank's good too."

Nic grinned, shaking her head a little.

"Ivy," Athena said with a distracted smile. "Ivy Athena Fischer. Everyone usually calls me Athena, except for my parents." A distasteful look came on her face, but she quickly shook it away.

"Miles Forrester, pleased to meet you," Riot said with a friendly wink, making Nic laugh softly. "Riot's a childhood nickname."

Alpha cleared his throat. "Damon. Damon Hale," he said gruffly, making Nic strain to hear him clearly.

Damon. She liked that name, it suited him.

"I can remember this," she said with an uneasy chuckle, earning her small chuckles from the others. "Slater, Ivy, Miles, and Damon," she said, pointing at each respective person. "So when's the party?"

"This weekend," Athena replied glumly, pulling her knees to her chin. "In three days, on Saturday. It's a thirty minute drive, forty-five with traffic."

"We'll be there the whole time," Riot said, rubbing her back.

"I know, I know—but so will they."

After a few more minutes of comforting Athena, they all disbanded to do whatever they needed to do. Athena ran to the grocery store, saying she needed to distract herself, but Nic could just tell that she was really heading to the mall. Tank went out to the gym, complaining about how Riot made him miss his workout the day before he kept asking him to play video games. Riot rolled his eyes and retreated into his room to do who knows what—maybe play more video games. Damon did the same, closing his door with an excessively loud slam that made Nic jump in her spot and roll her eyes.

Nic followed suit, going into her room and shutting the door far more gently. She tossed herself onto her bed, whipping her phone out of her pocket and looking at her text messages. She ignored all of them, except for Lucas's.

Lucas Received 9:10 AM same. I  wonder who the third could be

Lucas Sent 11:28 AM probably not the girl who stormed out crying

Lucas Received 12:29 AM 😂😂 no probably not

Lucas Received 11:29 AM hey Nic?

Lucas Sent 11:29 AM what's up?

Nic frowned at her phone when she didn't get a reply back for a minute, then two minutes, and then three minutes. She sighed, about to toss it to the other end of her bed, when it suddenly started ringing. She squinted then brightened up when she saw the name displayed. Immediately, she pressed the little green button and brought the phone up to her ear.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, eyes bright, and then immediately started wondering if she sounded too enthusiastic. Perhaps a simple "hello" would have been better.

"Nic!" Lucas immediately greeted back. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you," Nic responded. Lucas was silent on his end for a few seconds, and Nic facepalmed as quietly as she could. What did you expect , huh? "I'm good, thank you," you're about as interesting as drywall.

"Listen, I was wondering..."

Nic straightened up when Lucas's warm voice met her ear again. She coughed out, "Yeah?"

With closed eyes, she could imagine him rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you free this weekend? I thought maybe we could go out for coffee or something," he chuckled, sounding a bit nervous even through the phone.

Nic's mouth dropped, her eyes wide. She shook her legs in the air like a crazy person while racking her mind for the right thing to say.

"Uhh... hello?"

"Yes!" Too enthusiastic. She cleared her throat and sat up straight. "Yes, I am free, at least on Sunday. And I'd love to go out for coffee."

"Great! We'll probably know if we got the job by then. If we did, it'll be celebratory, if we didn't... let's turn coffee into drinks."

Nic laughed softly, rubbing her own neck with her hand. She was surprised to find her cheeks burning a little.

"I like your laugh," Lucas said quietly into the phone, making her cheeks tinge darker.

"Thank you," she said meekly, laying back down with her now-dried curly hair flailed around her head like the rays off the sun. "I like yours too."

"Nicy, I don't think I laughed." No, but he laughed while he was saying that, voice muffled by something that was probably his palm so he didn't embarrass her too much.

Nic paled, not even noticing the nickname, just completely horrified by her terrible brain-fart. "Oh..."

Lucas laughed again, clear and light-hearted, making Nic smile to herself shamefully. "Don't worry about it. I'll text you, we'll work the details out."

"Okay," Nic said, rubbing her hand on her forehead. "Have a great day," she said with a smile he could probably hear through the phone.

"You too, Nicy."

There was a click and the line disconnected. Nic hung up on her end, letting the phone fall out of her hand and beside her. She closed her eyes and smiled peacefully, thinking about Sunday when the door creaked open. She shot her head up and opened her eyes to see Alpha standing in her doorway with a quirked eyebrow.

"Who was that?" he asked, dragging his eyes up and down her body, eyes steely as ever. When they made eye contact again, Nic shivered. His jaw clenched before he spoke again. "Luke?"

Nic rolled her eyes. "Why do you care? And why were you eavesdropping?" she spat, sitting up with a huff and tugging the sleeves of her sweatshirt down to cover her hands.

"I wasn't," Alpha said with an annoyed huff, rolling his own eyes at her. "I was coming to ask if you wanted to watch a movie with me and heard you." His eyes looked a little offended, which was a new look on him.

"Oh," Nic said, eyes averting to the side awkwardly. She felt a little guilty, snapping at him like that, but he was clearly trying to provoke her.

"Whatever," Alpha said, his default smirk back on his face. "If you plan to keep that attitude you can keep taking to Luke. Maybe he'll cry on your shoulder. Find me if you wanna have some fun."

Nic threw a pillow at Alpha right as he ducked out of the doorway and closed the door, resulting with the pillow just hitting her door. She groaned in frustration, pummeling her fists against her mattress.

[griffith-ben]

My Linked[In]terview

One of my most proud accomplishments related to social media has nothing to do with learning about posting or using the online platform. In Fall 2020, I entered the internship market determined to make the best of these unprecedented times. To me this meant dedicating hours each week to revising and editing my resume to match the criteria of any internships that were remotely interesting to me. I would say on average I spent about four hours per week dedicated to the job hunt, finding listings on LinkedIn, getting inspiration on company websites, and manually creating alternate versions of my resume to best match different positions between sales, marketing, communication, public relations, you name it.  

Goals individuals place on themselves can only be one of two possibilities: a stretch goal or a comfort goal. When sending out my resume in the middle of a pandemic I adopted a “the worst they can say is no” attitude, which ultimately has led me to some immense success. I had two stretch goals that began to come to fruition in October of 2020. One day I got a LinkedIn notification from an unknown and it ended up being a recruiter for the LinkedIn Global Sales Internship role. Looking at this from my realist perspective I knew that there was some sort of artificial intelligence software in LinkedIn that was able to pull my profile as one with “relevant skills that could translate to a career in sales at LinkedIn.” Either way I felt very excited to explore this possibility.

This is where my journey with LinkedIn began. In this message the recruiter sent a welcome video where she filmed an introduction, and it was refreshing to see someone in a more normal way during this global crisis. During this week I began to reach out to my professors to gain opinions on my resume in order to give myself the best shot in the interview process. After making conversation with the recruiter via LinkedIn messaging, I was able to put in my application with confidence.

About a week later or so I received an e-mail telling me I had made it into the first stage of the process which was a fifteen-minute phone screen. We set-up time which was late for us on the east coast, but worked out nicely for the recruiter because the headquarters and where she lives is in San Francisco. Looking back at this conversation there was not much substance to it, just checking in on how the school year is going and basic questions on my experience listed on my resume. Applying what I know from my Sales Management course I know the content of this talk was not what was being evaluated. It was the soft skills of conversing over the phone which is directly applicable to the sales position being applied for.

After the call was over, I was given a timeline of two weeks to hear if I made it into the first round of interviews. I knew I had chosen a time for the phone screen early in the process so to make sure that I remained in the head of the recruiter I had to take action. Something I did that really made me feel more confident that this position was a right fit for me was reaching out to previous interns from the position. Just on LinkedIn alone I was able to strike up conversation with at least five of the previous interns and ask about their experience. I then formulated a thank you email to the recruiter and I mentioned these interactions which further showed my interest and my ability to work with others input.

This is a mostly happy story after all; I did end up making it to the first round of interviews which was extremely exciting to achieve. This call was scheduled for about half an hour and consisted of a video-chat going over those standard interview questions like “tell me about a time where you failed and how you handled it?” And the more sales role specific questions such as “why are you interested in sales?” In this conversation I prepared to have a more back and forth conversation whereas the phone interview was mostly a one-way talking style. I studied up on here LinkedIn profile to get a sense on what we had in common and was sure to use those commonalities in my answers. For example, I used my transition from the running club to the division one team to show hard work, dedication, but tied it into some she could relate to. Based on her profile we had roots in the Midwest which was a great conversation starter. In my running I highlighted the unpredictability of Midwestern weather and from this I learned she had completed a half marathon and I was clued into knowing she could relate to my experience.

In this first round there was only a week turn-around between knowing if we made it into the second round of interviews. I am usually confident in interviews because people skills are one of my strongest skills but, because of my lack of internship experience I was worried if I would be overlooked. In a confetti started email, I got the congratulations email and made it to the second round. For this round I would be interviewing with someone higher up in the hiring manager level. This interview I was preparing to answer behavioral based questions, so I began going through mental preparations to show my story in the most positive light.

For this interview it was done over a video call and lasted for about forty-five minutes. This new woman I was interacting with was inspiring and strong. She has worked her way up to being a Vice President of Sales in three companies and now works as a sales director of North America for LinkedIn. Interacting with someone so high up in an organization I thought was not going to be possible in college, but it was so cool to see how down to earth someone so successful could be. On the day of, I had to miss class, with permission, in order to attend the call. After sharing with my professor about the opportunity it was great to know how much I felt supported in achieving higher.  

The content of this second round interview with the hiring manager was definitely more nerve racking. I was glad I was dressed up in my full suit because even with the window open to a Michigan November I was still sweating nervously. In our conversation I never showed my nerves though, I was calm confident and collected and made sure to speak at a rate that was understandable and would translate well across the video call. She asked questions on my sales experience and why I think I would succeed with LinkedIn, but the question I always love to get in an interview was brought up giving me the confidence I needed to finish strong across those forty-five minutes. The question was along the lines of: tell me about a time where you were under stress and still performed well.  

My answer to this question in a spark notes version always relates to my Leader Advancement Scholar Program experience where we performed a debate course partnered with the Saginaw Regional Correctional Facility. In this experience we were partnered with men that has sentences between two-years and life, we drove to the prison, went through security, and learned alongside these men debate principles and etiquette. Internally, I was a mess. I was very stressed out about being in a prison, I had never known anyone to go to prison, all my knowledge on the prison system came from the media. Even under this stress I was able to walk away with the second highest speaker’s award for best debate and performed two wins as I stepped in for another student when she was sick on the day of her debate. The response from the LinkedIn interviewer was priceless, she said that in her four years of going through rounds of Intern interviews she had never heard a story like that and overall was very impressed.

I left the interview feeling proud of my work, but this is not to be confused with confident on the position. At this stage in the game it was obvious there were very few candidates left. I wanted to leave an impression of myself on the interviewer and share why I wanted to be apart of the Global Sales program. I was able to ask great questions on what it is like working at LinkedIn, culture differences between this job and previous ones, and growth opportunities. I was also able to share my story in an authentic and memorable way.

While this entire LinkedIn process was going on, I did not put all my eggs in one basket. I was balancing three other companies for interviews and was able to land two other offers. Upon notification of another offer with a deadline I reached out to LinkedIn out of courtesy to let them know I have a new timeline. That next day results came back from the Round Two of interviews and I was not selected to move into final round. Though I had other offers, I was devastated at this news. After spending over a month interacting with recruiters, I began to envision my internship living in San Francisco for the summer, I imagined life meeting new people from all over the country, I envisioned a job offer there after college. The world works in mysterious ways and I know that it must have not been meant to be at that time. Moving forward I have built strong connections with LinkedIn and going into my senior year I feel excited at what could be next for me.

As for the power of social media it is obvious that without its impact, I would have never earned this opportunity. Based on my profile, artificial intelligence was able to select me as a candidate with the characteristics to be successful in their internship role. Specifically, I attribute my profile having this status due to my active posting. With higher frequency of posts the AI was able to have more data points to judge me and therefore more reasons to share my name with the recruiter. Social media is often talked negatively in this day and age but this anecdote about LinkedIn is an obvious example of the great things possible.

[trialedsage-archive]

{ I want to take the time to both apologize for my slowness, lack of activity the past few days, and for my general dour demeanor, and explain a bit of what’s been going on in my life for those who care. I have been hesitant to bring this to the dash because the world is already such a negative place, especially right now, and the last thing I want is to burden you all with my own problems. But I feel like I owe you all at least a bit of an explanation. }

Financially, things are pretty dire for my roommate/best friend and I. I’ve been out of work since the end of December, and right when things took a turn of the worst in terms of the pandemic, I had finally landed a job with McDonald’s. I was really excited because there was talk of possibly making me a manager in training, which would have been a serious help, especially considering the amount of hours I would get, and the benefits. 

During my interview, I warned them that my phone was out of service and that they would need to contact me via my best friend’s cell. They told me that that was fine, and that they would give her phone a ring when my uniform came in. I waited about a week, then gave them a call, only to be told that it still wasn’t in yet and that they would give me a call when it arrived.

However, after about two weeks of no word from them, I called, asking what was up with my uniform and why I had not received any calls. It turns out, they had been calling me, but we had not received any notifications of either the calls themselves or the voice mails that had been left. They were definitely upset and did not believe me when I told them the reasons for the lack of a response on my end. The only reason I had not called sooner was because they had made it expressly clear that they would contact me, and I had assumed that they were busy because of the pandemic and thus had not had the time to contact me. Even so, they told me to come pick up my uniform the next day (yesterday).

They had lied. They really just wanted me there so that they could fire me face to face. They made me leave my house during a pandemic, risking my health, so that they could terminate me in the cruelest way possible. The manager made me sit in the lobby for twenty minutes before finally emerging to tell me that I had been removed from the system and that there was no way to add me back in after termination. I cannot be hired by any McDonald’s because of a malfunctioning phone.

Keep in mind that they did not email me, did not send a text, did not try any other of the various methods to contact me. I was devastated. I already struggle with a lot of self loathing due to my mental health issues, and this did not help. It’s a miracle I made it home safe and sound with how badly I was crying and how suicidal I became.

So suffice it to say that I am not in a good place right now. This, on top of everything else that’s going on in my life, has honestly broken me. This was the very last thing that I needed. 

I’ll be here sparingly, when I have the muse/energy, but mostly I’m going to be sequestering myself because I am not at all stable and am way too oversensitive for an overabundance of socialization. I am not on my medication because I ran out right as doctor’s offices started shutting down and I do not have the means of refilling my prescription, so I’m like a raw nerve. Trust me, I’m not someone you want to be around atm. So if I disappear in the middle of a conversation, it’s not because I’ve lost interest or am ignoring you, it’s because I’m in one of those downward swings/spirals and just need some space.

I love each and every one of you nerds and when this passes (and it will pass. I’ve gotta keep reminding myself of that) I’ll be here as often as possible. I love writing Avallac’h and am excited to write Strahd as well. My brain is just too dun borked to deal with this mess atm, and I gotta do what is best for me in terms of my mental health. That might mean taking a bit of a break. 

Anyway, that’s it. Keep your chins up, folks. We’re all in this together.

Love,

Whimsy. 

[superheroconfetti]

Let It Rain Part 1/?

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC

Warnings: PG-13 - Little bit of language

Word Count: 4497 (Yes, I talk a lot)

Author Notes: Debating continuing this. First attempt at a Chris fic, so we’ll see how it goes! :) 

The news had been warning us of the fall storms rolling in over the weekend for almost seven days in advance, a wicked bout of weather was headed our way and it made me nervous. Normally, I’d be fine, but being in a house that wasn’t ours, with my fiance’ on the other side of the country, made me more out of sorts than normal. 

Chris had gone back to California for a few weeks of press for his new movie, leaving me at our place outside of Atlanta. It had been much easier to pick up our lives and move here, where the majority of the last Avengers movie was being filmed. The house was only rented, a giant, three story Victorian place, tucked back outside of the city limits. I’d fallen in love with it, over Facetime, when he’d been looking and taken me through a tour of the property. Secretly, I’d begun to wonder, over the months we’d spent, if he’d fallen in love with it enough to buy it when filming ended. He’d always said how relaxed he felt, coming home from sixteen hour days of filming, knowing that he could actually let his guard down and escape when he wasn't on set. I had to admit that it was beautiful here and I wasn’t sure that I’d mind staying, if he wanted to. 

Opening the front door, I took a peek outside, the sunshine bright and way too hot for the middle of November, even in the South. The air had a volatile sort of quality to it, that I could already feel and I sighed, twisting my engagement ring on my finger. Even from California, Chris had been keeping an eye on the weather reports, adorably keeping me updated when there was any change. I let him, not bothering to mention that I was keeping a better eye on it, possibly than even he was. Rain and wind, I could handle, but the talk of tornados, scared the life out of me. 

Raised up north, storms like these were definitely not a common thing for me. Chris had been filming in Atlanta long enough over the years, to barely bat an eye at the mention of severe storms, but this time, he even seemed worried. I’d just settled in a chair on our porch, watching the dried leaves whip through the lawn at a hurried pace, when my phone beeped from my pocket. I scooped it up, smiling to see a text from him. 

I’d tagged him in my contacts as “Captain”, forever snickering over it when I received a notification or phone call from him. Chris hadn’t noticed until he’d been looking in my phone for a picture he’d wanted one afternoon and realized what I’d done. He’d simply groaned and rolled his eyes, smirking good naturedly but I had a feeling that he liked it more than he let on. 

Ry, you’re watching this shit right? I’m starting to get worried about you, baby.

I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face before answering him. It was better to do it now, he’d worry if I took too long, getting back to him, especially on a day like today. 

I’m watching. Little bit scared. I admitted. It’s way too hot out for November, feels weird outside.

Fuck. His one word message came back and I knew he was frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. He’d let it grow again while filming and I was secretly hoping that he’d wait awhile to cut it again. You know I’d be there if I could.

I know. But you have work to do, babe. Being in LA is important right now. I imagine you don’t even have a break in your schedule, even if you wanted to.

No… Even his text messages sounded exhausted and with more than a week to go, I could tell that he was already done. As much as he loved the movie, the fans, his fellow cast mates, the press always made him tired. He was much happier at home, hanging out on the couch, with Dodger, watching sports and zoning out. I didn’t mind those times because they were far and few between and I knew he desperately needed them. 

It’ll be fine, Chris. I assured him. As worried as I was, he still had a job to do and he needed to focus on that.  I’ll be alright. Hopefully it just turns out to be a bunch of rain.

Just, keep in touch, okay? Be careful?

Whatever you say, Captain. I teased him gently because I knew it would make him smile.

Never gonna live this shit down, am I?

I knew he had rolled his eyes, but was still laughing. My phone beeped again, this time with a photo attached and it was a picture of him, with his hand over his face, shaking his head. One bright blue eye peeked between his fingers and it made me smile.

You’re cute, Evans. Go do your job. I’ll see you sometime next week, babe.

He’d typed out a quick I love you and I did the same, before shoving my phone back into the pocket of my shorts.  There was a whine at the screen door and I looked back to see Dodger watching me, pawing at the handle to be let outside. Normally, Chris would have taken him, but with the crazy hours of a press tour, he wouldn’t have the time to care for him and so he got to stay at home. Completely useless as a guard dog, he just wanted to be near anyone who would pet him for hours. 

“That was your dad…” I scratched behind his ears when I opened the door and he sped outside, down the front steps and into a pile of leaves I’d raked up the day before. “He misses you… too…”

Dodger just looked at me with a doggy grin, cocking his head and looking so much like his owner that I had to laugh. 

“Oh man, we’re a mess without him, aren’t we?” I giggled, sitting back in the chair. Soon enough, Dodger tired of the leaves and came to curl up at my feet. I ran over his fur with my bare toes and he relaxed enough to start snoring. It was cute and I took a video, sending the short clip off to Chris. I didn’t know when he’d get a chance to look at it, but it seemed to help him when he was away to have a little bit of home. 

His response was quicker than I’d expected and he was either sitting in the back row of an interview, not paying attention or he was on a break. 

God, I miss you two. 

Miss you. 

There wasn’t another reply and I sighed, checking my phone for the weather for the millionth time. The forecast hadn’t gotten any worse, but it hadn’t gotten any better either. 

I sat for awhile longer, feeling the wind pick up and start to whip the leaves around, tree branches outside the house starting to shake more than before. The sky was slowly getting darker, thick clouds moving in. Even Dodger knew something was happening as he picked his head up, anxiously, looking around and whining.

“Just a storm, buddy.” I tried to comfort him, but he stuck to me like glue as I went back inside, pacing and looking anxious. 

Making dinner for the both of us, kept my racing thoughts and Dodger’s whimpering to a minimum as we settled in. Usually an “everyone eats at the table” kind of person, I just didn’t manage it when Chris wasn’t home. I curled up on the couch with a bowl of pasta and chicken, throwing pieces of it to Dodger, to keep him busy. He seemed content to lay on the couch next to me, happily chowing down on his bone and the occasional treat. 

It was already dark when the rain began to pour and I flipped on the television, watching the weather closely. Our area was due for several threatening hits over the next few hours and I sighed when they reported that watches and warnings were already scattered all over the west side of the city. We were in for a long night.

Thankfully, with a reminder from Chris, I’d already charged my phone and my laptop, in case of a power loss. He was so much more used to this weather than I was. Earlier, he’d told me to put a pair of gym shoes, a jacket and Dodger’s leash somewhere I could easily grab them, in case of a real emergency. It was sweet that he was worried from across the country, but the fact that I’d had to make contingency plans did nothing for my nerves.

The rain came even harder and then the wind, so sharp I could hear it howling outside without even opening a door. A loud crack made me jump and Dodger whimpered, racing to hide under the dining room table. 

“Some help you are.” I muttered, rolling my eyes. The noise had come from the back of the house and I went to investigate, seeing that one of the giant willows in the backyard, was missing a few of its heavy branches. A bright burst of lightning showed me just how close it had been to taking out the double glass doors. At the same time I breathed a sigh of relief, a rumbling blast of thunder was loud enough to practically feel down to my toes. 

“Jesus Christ.” I muttered, swallowing hard. I was on my way back to the living room when the house was plunged into sudden darkness, with a pop and a sizzle as the power went out. Dodger was whimpering, probably still under the table and I worked my way back to the center of the house, with the flashlight on my phone. The dog nearly tripped me when he recognized someone familiar, instantly glued to my side, refusing to move. 

“Shhh, it’s okay…”I rubbed his fur, trying to soothe him, but I knew he could tell how on edge I was and it didn’t help him at all. “Oh where the hell is your dad when we need him, huh? Sunny freakin’ California, there’s no tornados there. Only earthquakes. I would so take an earthquake right now.” 

We’d just made it back to the couch, huddled in our own respective balls when a bang, with the volume of an explosion happened. I recognized the tinkle of glass hitting the wooden floor and bit back tears. Now the worry was real and all I wanted was Chris there to tell me everything was going to be okay. Dodger began barking madly, as if he was attempting to scare off whatever had broken the glass. “Fine time to be a guard dog now…” I hissed at him, knowing he wasn’t paying any attention. Glancing at my cell phone, I didn’t have any bars of service and really started to panic. 

“Ok, Dodge, come on buddy, let’s go get your leash. We gotta go downstairs.” I had never been so happy for Chris’ suggestion about the shoes and a small backpack of essential items. Grabbing all of it and shakily clipping Dodger’s leash to his collar, we worked our way down to a small closet, hidden at the bottom level of the house. Chris and I hadn’t even known it was there until about a month after we’d moved, finding it one day when we’d been goofily exploring every nook and cranny of the place. 

Dodger continued to whine and pace in the small space, giving me very little room to do much else but sit on the floor and try to calm down. It was hard to do, when the only noise was the pounding rain and wind, strong enough to take out every tree on the property. I tried to send a message to Chris, my hands shakily punching in letters, but when I tried to send it, it failed every time. 

“Dammit, dammit…” I whispered, swallowing hard. “Okay, buddy. We’re gonna be alright, it’ll be over soon.” The dog didn’t seem comforted and I think I’d said the words more to reassure myself than him, but he put his paws on my knees, nosing insistently at me as if to check if I was in one piece. For being quite a bit bigger than a lap dog, he always seemed to end up there anyway and I put my arms around his neck, hanging on. His leash was still wrapped around my hand, so that I could hold onto him if needed. If there was one thing I knew would break Chris’ heart more than anything else, it would be to lose his dog. 

We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, the dog’s tail swishing forlornly against my side. Another explosion like noise and slam from upstairs nearly brought tears to my eyes, I was really beginning to hate how loud this storm was, wondering how much damage was being done to the house. The noises continued though and I suddenly was on high alert, unsure if I’d locked the doors. Being outside of the city and rather secluded, I’d never given much thought to being bothered. If the massive amount of foliage didn’t fend off any unwanted visitors, the mile long winding driveway down to the house would have. Dodger often sat outside, guarding it and waiting, especially when Chris was gone, as if he refused to move until he saw his owner come back. 

 What sounded like footsteps, and quick ones, creaked across the floorboards above us and Dodger yelped quietly, trying to lunge out of my grasp. “Hey! Stay here!” I murmured, pulling him close. He only whined and wriggled more, desperate to see what was going on. Another slam and more footsteps thundered down the stairs, closer to our hiding spot. There was a voice and it took me a long moment to process that somehow, the voice knew my name. 

“Ry? Dodge? Rylee!” It was full of panic and worry, but Dodger’s answering bark drowned out the next words. The door to our hiding spot flew open and the dog darted away before I could grab at his collar. Thankfully, he hadn’t gone far, joyfully pawing at the person standing there. 

“Rylee? Baby, holy fuck, are you okay?” 

Chris. Oh my God. I didn’t know why he was there or how he’d even managed to get to us, with the storm going on outside, but I’d never been happier to see him. 

“Hi…” I stood up, tears finally falling, more out of relief than anything else as he pulled me in tightly against his chest. “How...why…?”

“Shhh. shhhh…” he murmured,  brushing his hand over my hair. He was soaking wet, flannel and t-shirt clinging to him. “It’s okay.”

“Chris, you’re soaked.” I immediately worried, when I realized he was drenched, brushing my hands over his arms. “Honey, what happened?”

“Can’t get down the driveway…” he shook his head. “Like three trees down, I walked.” 

“Are you insane?” I breathed. “How did you even get here?” 

“Airport wasn’t grounded when my flight came in. Made it right before the storms hit. I’ve been trying for almost two hours to get to you. Traffic is a nightmare, the interstate is a parking lot, I about got out and walked from there. Thank God, you’re alright.” He cupped my face as he spoke, earnestly looking me over as well as he could in the dim light.

“We’re fine, we’re fine.” I assured him. “Scared out of my mind...but Chris, the house…”

“Is a mess.” he frowned. “There’s glass everywhere, I’m guessing a tree came down in the back.”

“It sounded like a bomb went off.” I admitted, putting my arms around his waist, just hanging on.

“We’ll deal with it tomorrow, when we can see what the damage is. God, do you know how scared I was? Opening the door and stepping on glass, with you and Dodge nowhere in sight?” His thumbs gently wiped the last of my tears from my cheeks.

“I tried to text you, but the service was out. When the glass broke, I grabbed his leash and my shoes and came down here.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up in a relieved smile. “You really did that?” He seemed surprised, as if he didn’t think I’d listen to him, about making a small pile of essentials. 

“Chris, you asked me to. Of course. You know I love Dodge as much as you do, there’s no way I’d let him get hurt.” 

“I don’t want you hurt either…” he breathed, pulling me close again. I suddenly didn’t mind that he was completely drenched and that being against him was slowly soaking my clothes as well. He fiercely kissed my forehead, lingering for a moment, before pulling back. We both listened for a moment, the wind and rain not sounding nearly as powerful as it had before. 

“Do you think it’s over?” 

“I hope that was the worst of it.” he sighed, tugging his fingers through his hair, turning around in the dim light to call for Dodger. “Come here, buddy.” 

The dog had been impatiently sniffing around the bottom level, somewhere he rarely went, but was next to Chris the second he called him. “Stay here with him for a second, I’m going to check things out…”

“My very own, real life superhero.” I teased him and he chuckled, squeezing my hand before disappearing back up the stairs. 

For awhile, I listened for his footsteps, slowly moving around on the floor above. It had been a good twenty minutes before he returned, the outline of his frame, glowing dimly in the light of his phone screen. 

“How bad is it?” 

He frowned and I realized just how exhausted he really was. Hoping for a good night of sleep and to wrestle with the dog and a few decent meals, he’d come home to the storm of the century and a torn up house. 

His arm came around me, pulling me against his side. It wasn’t until then that I realized he’d found some dry clothes, but his skin was still cold. “The window is gone.” 

“What? Oh no…”

My heart was broken a little bit. The giant stained glass window in the bedroom was what had sold me on the house. Chris had taken pictures of it and then shown me on a FaceTime conversation. The brightly colored, delicate pieces of glass, had been put there with such care, an intricate garden of flowers. There’d been more than one morning that I’d woken up before Chris, watching the sunshine come in, flashing pale bursts of color across his skin as he slept. 

“I’m sorry, babe. I know how much you loved it.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Maybe there’s a way to get it redone.”

“We only have another month here.” I said. “I can’t imagine that it could get done that quickly. The owners would probably just replace it with regular glass.” 

“I’ll talk to them.” He assured me, brushing a quick hand over my hair, tugging playfully at my ponytail, something he’d done since the day we’d met. 

I nodded, breathing in the comforting smell of the detergent I’d washed his tee in and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“It’s only for three days.” He said, quietly. “I gotta go back. They rearranged the press schedule to add more overseas interviews. But I told them I’d be back and got on a plane. They know me well enough now to know that I’ll be there when they need me.” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too…” he took in a deep breath. “Why don’t we try going back upstairs. If we keep Dodger in the living room and the kitchen, he’ll stay out of the glass. The hallway got hit too, those doors got punched out.”

“Oh my God.” The amount of damage in such a short time, scared me. We’d been walking that hallway only moments before the glass had come down and the fact that I’d seen the first round of branches outside was even scarier,. 

“It’s okay, Ry.” He put me behind him as we climbed the stairs back to the top level, still holding onto my hand. “It can all be fixed. I’m just glad you and Dodger are alright.” 

The wind and the rain still pounded the house, but not nearly as loud as earlier. I jumped when the lightning flashed, causing Chris to chuckle softly. “If we had somewhere to sleep, I’d make you forget all about this ridiculous storm.” 

Pulling back, I blinked up at him, confused, until I realized that the stained glass wall had probably exploded inward, shattering all over the master bedroom. 

“Oh no, really?” 

“Really.” He sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. “We’re gonna be picking up glass in there for awhile.” 

“Way to spend your days off. I’m sure that’s exactly what you wanted.” I groaned. “That’s okay, you’re going to relax. I’ll get everything taken care of and cleaned up.” 

“Look at you, taking charge.” He smiled, tucking a strand of hair back from my cheek. “Kinda hot.”

I blushed, but even in the dark I knew he could tell. 

“Look Ry, was cleaning up from a storm what I planned to do while I was back home? Not even on the top ten of my list, but I’ll be damned if I just hang around, while you fix things. That’s not how this goes.” 

“Chris, you need time to decompress for a few days. You’re always exhausted after a press tour.” 

“Fine. I’ll relax.” He finally gave in, but not before the edges of a smile turned his lips. “As long as you do it with me.” 

“You’re sly, Evans.” I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “Why don’t we pick up this discussion tomorrow once we can check out the damage. ” 

He nodded, his hand coming up to brush fingertips over my cheek. “You know what?”

“What?”

His voice had lowered a couple of notches as he stepped in closer. “I haven’t even gotten to kiss you yet. That’s even more of a problem than broken windows.” 

I realized that he was right and smiled a little, wrapping my arms around his neck to bring him down closer to me. “I missed you, Chris.”

“Mmm, me too babydoll.” he sighed, before taking a quick nip at my bottom lip, then fusing his mouth to mine. Fingers tangled in my ponytail and I finally relaxed into him, forgetting all about the weather raging on around us. He didn’t pull away until Dodger whined, pawing at us impatiently for some attention. 

“Hey buddy, I missed you too…” he crouched down with a grin, ruffling his fur, the two getting into a wrestling match in the living room, even with the barest of lighting. I let them go, knowing they both had a little extra adrenaline to work off. As always, the wrestling match ended up with the dog sitting on Chris, as he practically cackled with infectious laughter. 

“My boys.” I snickered, just enjoying the feeling of having my little family in one place.

“He’s a goof.” Chris chuckled, finally shoving him off and joining me on the couch. The rain was down to a harsh drizzle and I flicked through the weather app on my phone, looking for an updated forecast. In an attempt to save the battery while the power was still out, I shut it down rather quickly. “I think the worst of it is over. The rain isn’t going to stop anytime soon.” 

“God, I didn’t realize how tired I was until I sat down.” He pressed his lips to my shoulder, sighing against the fabric of my sweater. “We can sleep?”

“I’ve just got blankets in the guest room.” I bit down on my lip. “All the pillows are in ours.”

“Mmm, don’t care.” he nuzzled again, clearly exhausted. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve spent three weeks in hotel beds without you, no way in hell am I doing it again until I have to.” 

“Sounds fair.” I reached up, running my fingers through his hair. “Come on, before you fall asleep right here.” 

‘Here is nice too.” he mumbled, breathing in deeply. “I’m not gonna make it in there if you keep doing that.” 

“God knows I’m not strong enough to get you off this couch.” I giggled, shifting out from under him, as he immediately slumped into the space I vacated. “Christopher, come on, five more minutes.” 

He groaned and sighed, but finally managed to get up, following along behind me. Dodger trailed after us both, seemingly confused as to why we’d settled in the guest bedroom, but he parked himself and his stuffed lion on the floor anyway. 

Chris stretched, then flopped onto the bed with a thud that shook the mattress, not even bothering to kick his shoes off. I tried to hide my giggles but he heard me anyway and suddenly there was a balled up t-shirt flying at my head. I batted it away, still snickering and he only made a face, barely visible in the dim light.

“Stop laughing.” he mumbled, before rolling onto his stomach, head pillowed on his arms. For a moment, I couldn’t help admire, watching the way his large frame was stretched out, taking up more than half of the bed. He was always in shape, but extra muscle rippled after a movie shoot and the shadows only seemed to highlight it more. 

My daydreaming was interrupted by his soft snore and I had to stop myself from giggling again. God, he was cute. Somehow, I managed to pull his sneakers off his feet without waking him and took a blanket from the closet, tucking it around his body so he wouldn’t get cold. I grabbed another for myself, before laying down next to him and he mumbled, sleepily, before throwing an arm over my waist to pull me in closer. He was always warm, something I never was and it was nice to have him there. Rest didn’t come easy without him, even though we were used to being apart. 

Sweetly, he nuzzled even closer, brushing his lips against my hair. “Love you, Ry…”

I knew he wouldn’t remember it in the morning but I pressed a kiss to his shoulder anyway, murmuring the same. The wind and rain were still coming down and we’d deal with the damage to the house in the morning, but for that moment, my little family was safe and home and that’s all I needed.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Side Effects- Part One

M/F Pairing: Y/N X Stray Kids (Multiple Pairings)

Word Count: 4K

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood, violence, smut, and language

Summary: Y/N just wanted a normal life, attending to her studies while earning the degree she’s always dreamed about. Unfortunately, her funds are running low and she’s increasingly desperate for money until she finds an advertisement online. Although she doesn’t know much about vampires, she decides to take a position as a blood donor to the mysterious Miroh Coven, unaware of the consequences of her fatal decision.

It had been almost six months since the incident. 24 weeks of paranoia, glancing over my shoulder in response to unexpected movements and sounds. 182 days of watching the bruises slowly fade from my skin, dark circles under my eyes gradually succumbing to the much-needed 8 hours of sleep I managed with the assistance of medication and my new roommate who always welcomed me in her bed when the nightmares progressed. Finally, it seemed like things were getting better with each passing day further and further away from the traumatic event that had changed my life forever.

I could now walk by myself at night without the risk of breaking down in the middle of the sidewalk. I could finally keep down the food my roommate prepared for me without the familiar feeling of nausea churning my stomach unpleasantly. I could finally find a job to support myself, working fulltime as a Secretary at a company with full benefits and a reliable 401K. 

They were gone from my life, taking the pain and suffering along with them. I was better now and I was determined to turn my life around because I was a strong and independent woman who should’ve known better. But I had been desperate back then, working through my college degree while my savings account was slowly drained. I wouldn’t be able to finance my Senior year and the idea of giving up on my education so close to the finish line had almost broken me in half.

That’s when I first saw the advertisement, promoted through Google’s convoluted Adword system. It was like an answer to my prayers, everything that I had been searching for wrapped up neatly with a handy URL link that took me straight to the source. I remember reading the advertisement with greedy eyes, unhesitating when I clicked on the “Apply Now” button:

ATTN:

Looking for a reliable blood donor for an estate of 8 young men belonging to the Miroh Coven. Preferably female with a blood type of O negative. Please send in an application ASAP.

Vampires weren’t uncommon in our society, though the government had heavily restricted their creation since a dramatic increase in population. Now, the government required notification if a Coven planned to initiate a new member. It was all a dramatic affair meant to prevent fledgling vampires who were more prone to violence and chaos. Of course, there was the occasional rogue who turned humans against their will simply because they couldn’t handle their bloodlust. However, more often than not, Coven leaders knew how to keep their members under control.

Blood donors were also not uncommon. Covens often hired several different donors to keep around when they required access to fresh blood. It was a practice that was initially met with hesitance from the greater public, but when Vampires proved they could handle themselves better around a reliable blood source, the government gradually acquiesced. 

I had never given much thought to Vampires or Blood Donors until I saw the advertisement. More specifically, until I saw the amount of money this Coven, in particular, was willing to pay for their donor. It would be enough to pay my college tuition and keep money in my savings account to pay for rent and food. Since the new semester was rapidly approaching, I needed to pay for tuition immediately and provide a deposit for an on-campus apartment.

In hindsight, it was probably a foolish idea to jump headfirst into the application without doing proper research. Case in point, questioning just exactly why this obviously wealthy and established Clan needed a blood donor immediately. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve hesitated at the obvious sense of urgency behind the advertisement. I might have wondered what happened to the Clan’s previous Donor, but I was simply enraptured by the dollar signs and refused to consider that this could be a very bad decision.

It only took a few days before I received a notice on the application, requesting an interview at the Miroh Clan’s address. I remember feeling excited by the opportunity, dressing in my best slacks and blouse. I drove with barely constrained enthusiasm, singing along to the ridiculous pop song playing on the radio even though I really preferred classical music. But this was a special occasion and I was potentially meeting with someone who could change my life and allow me to finish the remainder of my education in luxury.

“Tuition is due this Friday,” I reminded myself, gaping at the giant Mansion gated in circumference by an ancient wrought-iron fence. “Remember to tell them you can start immediately, Y/N.”

I checked my make-up in the rearview mirror before opening the door, heels clicking obnoxiously against the sidewalk. My first impression was rapidly becoming something like a passage from Bram Stoker’s Dracula as I ascended the steps to the front gate, smashing my finger against the button on the elaborate security system. The gate opened without warning and I jumped back in surprise, hand fanning against my chest as my heart nearly skipped a beat or two in my chest. “Relax, Y/N,” I said, smoothing down my slacks.

Despite it’s older appearance, it was obvious that the grounds of the Mansion were well-kept and I took note of the elaborate display of hydrangea’s lining the walkway to the front door. I presumed the Miroh Coven likely hired someone to do the work for them, especially since it was a known fact that Vampires generally disliked the sunlight as it bothered their enhanced senses. In any case, I was prepared to meet a bunch of older men who had perhaps lost their last client to old age or something. Instead, the man who opened the front door looked like he could attend the same University as me. Dressed impeccably in a dark mahogany suit, the man straightened his tie before offering me a relaxed smile. “Y/N?”

I nodded my head, trying not to react to the sight of his sharp incisors glinting menacingly in the light. “My name is Bang Chan,” he said, offering me an outstretched hand. “I’m the leader of the Miroh Coven.”

I shook his hand cautiously, aware of the strength in his arms highlighted by the bulging veins visible from the upturned aspect of his shirt sleeves. “Nice to meet you,” I said, recovering from the unexpected appearance of my potential benefactor. I had not anticipated meeting someone so obviously young.

“Come inside,” he said, opening the door further to welcome me into the shadowed hallways of the Miroh Mansion.

“What else will you do?” my roommate asked with a pout.

I continued to read my book, far more concerned with the fate of my beloved heroine as opposed to my roommate’s desire to find free alcohol. “This,” I said, reclining further back against the comfortable stretch of pillows. 

“Y/N,” my roommate chastised me softly. “I know why you don’t want to go and they’re just gonna win if you keep insisting.”

I tensed at her words, fingers mangling the corners of the pages. My roommate knew everything about my last situation because she was often the recipient of my screams when the familiar nightmares flooded my dreams. “They already won,” I grumbled. “I can’t even watch a vampire movie without losing my mind.”

“Are you afraid they’ll find you?” my roommate asked. “They’re thousands of miles away and you haven’t seen them for months.”

“Seven months,” I informed her curtly.  “And I’d like to go for eight.”

“Y/N,” my roommate groaned. “You told me that you used to love parties.”

“I know,” I said. “Maybe someday I’ll go out with you, but for now this is the best way I can cope.”

My roommate nodded, messing with something in her bag before approaching me on high heels that were just bordering on too tall. “Here, I found this is the laundry room.”

I held out my hand absent-mindedly, not really considering what she had given me until I pulled my attention away from the book. When I finally realized what it was, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen followed by a wave of nausea that left me tossing my book to the side before bolting for the bathroom. “Y/N!” my roommate called my name, but I was already expelling the contents of my stomach, groaning from the sickness. 

Because the item now discarded next to me was his necklace and I could have sworn I threw it out with their other gifts when I finally attained my freedom from their clutches...

I was completely spent, lungs still seeking additional oxygen and legs sore from where they were wrapped around his. Chan was always rough when he was feeling particularly possessive, hands determined to bruise every inch of my skin along with the deep marks from his fangs. He had taken a lot of blood and despite the offered chocolate now discarded on the side table, I was incredibly light-headed. 

“Y/N,” Chan said, fingers tracing a rather nasty bite mark he had left on my shoulder. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?” It was difficult, but I managed to turn my head enough to meet his gaze, startled by how red his eyes glowed under the influence of fresh blood. Chan’s fingers traced along the edges of my lips, forcefully inserting themselves inside and I managed enough strength to lightly tongue my way across the tips. He shivered at that, removing his hand before reaching behind him for the gorgeous necklace I had noticed briefly on his nightstand before he had pushed my face into the mattress. “For you,” he said, helping me into a sitting position so that he could clasp the chain around my neck, golden pendant hanging heavy between the dips of my collarbones. “Perfect,” he soothed into my ear, growling around a husky “mine” before he was kissing a trail down the side of my arm.

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache that only responded to three painkillers washed down with a glass of cold water. It was a Saturday which meant I had the day off from work and I couldn’t be more grateful. After last night’s incident, I had finally managed to convince my roommate to go out and have fun while I dropped onto my bed with a heavy sigh. The only way I could calm myself down was by repeating assurances that I must have forgotten Chan’s necklace in the small bonfire I had made of the expensive things they had bought for me. It must have gotten stuck in the bottom of my pocket which explains its presence in the laundry room. There was simply no other explanation. But a shiver still ran its way down my spine when I recalled the way Chan had looked at me before I bolted out the front door. “I will always find you,” he had snarled the warning before I was lost into the unforgiving darkness of the night.

I ran home from the hospital, throwing my belongings into a suitcase before booking a one-way trip back home, far away from these horrible monsters who I had willingly entertained for the past year of my life. The only positive was the fact that I had graduated which meant I was in no way expected to stick around any longer. Instead, I uprooted up my life and moved back home where I felt safer, finding my current roommate who willingly offered me her unused second bedroom. I could’ve afforded to live alone, but there’s no way that I could manage a solitary arrangement without losing my mind. And I didn’t have my parents because I was far too prideful to crawl back to them considering the unfortunate way our last encounter had ended when my father told me that I could never amount to anything on my own. 

They wanted me to attend a local community college before marrying the son of my dad’s business partner to demonstrate loyalty between the two brands. There was no way I would allow my parents to strip away something that belonged exclusively to me. My mother had ranted all night long when I missed my scheduled reservation, telling me that no boy would ever want me. I wish she had been right because I might have avoided the eight consecutive nightmares who entered my life one by one with every intent of bringing me down.

Regardless, I couldn’t change the past if I wanted to focus on the future, and I was doing well for myself these days without my parents or the Miroh Coven. I was assured that I could get through this unpleasant stage of my life because I had every intention of rising through the ranks. My dream was to open my own business one day and marry someone who could show me both love and respect. Because that was what was missing when I served the Miroh Coven. They might have insisted that they loved me, but they certainly held no respect for the woman they wanted to enslave, especially Jisung. 

In fact, Han Jisung might have been the worst of the three brothers. You see, Chan’s claim as a leader only went as far as legalities required, having someone’s name down to attribute ownership. But Chan was just as much leader as Jisung and Changbin. The three brothers were thicker than thieves, having grown up together in a despicable orphanage when they were younger. They weren’t bound by blood, but by something much stronger. When they were turned by an older vampire who envisioned them as perfect little soldiers, they decided that they were owed something for all the years of torment they endured. They turned against their sire, freeing themselves from his control, before forming their own tight-knit clan to claim. Throughout the years, they lived in the Miroh Mansion while forming their very own elaborate enterprise and becoming very wealthy in the process. One of the very first things they did as CEOs was to tear down the orphanage they hated and replace it with one of their office buildings. Next, they tracked down everyone that had ever mistreated them, writing down the names in a disheveled notebook that I had discovered one night in Jisung’s nightstand. Some of the names had already been marked out, but there were still so many left, and I didn’t realize at the time what exactly I was holding in my hands until it was too late. 

I shivered at the memory, trying to will it away, but it was already forcing itself to play out again in my mind with perfect clarity. 

To save costs on ridiculous surcharges, and to make things easier for the coven, I had recently moved into the Miroh Mansion with my eight benefactors. They cleaned a room for me on the top floor where Chan, Changbin, and Jisung also lived in relative peace. The eight of them had been thrilled when I agreed to their proposal, talking nonstop about our new situation. Of course, I didn’t intend for it to hold any sort of permanence, but I didn’t dare speak out against Felix because the younger boy had a vicious temper and lashed out violently when things didn’t go his way. 

Nevertheless, I quickly settled in with the others and their regular routine. I came to discover that Chan, Changbin, and Jisung were often missing throughout the day, but I figured it had something to do with their business. As for the others, Hyunjin spent a lot of time in the attic where he had attempted to recreate a dance studio, often requesting that I sit and watch him as he moved to the gentle music playing from an older record player. Sometimes, Felix joined him too, but for the most part, Felix liked to play with the younger boys, Seungmin and Jeongin, in their rooms or in mine. They loved video games and I remember countless hours spent playing with the three of them as they giggled and laughed like the harmless school boys I once believed them to be. Occasionally, Minho liked to poke his head in when we were being too loud, scolding us because he was concentrating on his newest art project. 

But the mood shifted considerably once Chan, Changbin, and Jisung came home. Immediately, the other vampires would rush downstairs to greet the brothers. It was the same occurrence every night and I was ignorant at first until I finally mustered the courage to ask Chan why they were so eager to see them. The older man had chuckled at me. “We’re their sires, Y/N. They experience a lot of discomfort without us around.”

“Sires?”

Chan explained the concept to me patiently. “Seungmin and Jeongin are sired to me and Hyunjin and Felix are sired to Changbin.”

“And Minho is sired to Jisung,” I said and Chan had smiled at me proudly like I had just discovered something profound. 

“When we come home, it’s important that we reinforce our bond. Otherwise, some very bad things might happen.”

I had nodded like that made perfect sense to me. I was really tired and wanted to simply crawl into Chan’s arms and fall asleep. Chan had realized my intentions, holding me close while running his fingers through the messy strands of my air.

The next evening, Jisung summoned me into his bedroom. “I’m hungry, little one,” he said, drawing me onto the bed to slowly strip me out of my clothes. The very first-time Jisung had attempted to remove my shirt, I freaked out and demanded to know why it was necessary. Jisung had smiled, a cunning manipulative behavior that I hadn’t fully realized at the time. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes.”

Of course, his intentions became evident as our sessions increased and I finally gave in and let Jisung fuck me because it did feel really good when he was inside while drawing far too much blood from my carotid artery. It became just another part of our routine, Jisung drawing me into his bed before sliding his cock inside before biting viciously on the side of my neck. I moaned from under him, focusing on the way his cock slid in and out as opposed to the dizziness I was experiencing from losing too much blood at once. Jisung only stopped when I orgasmed, tightening around his cock before he emptied himself between my legs, pressing sweet kisses to my chest before pulling his flaccid length out of my sensitive opening.

“Sleep,” he whispered close to my ear. I whined because I hated it when he left me alone after sex. 

“Sungie,” I said, trying to get his attention. I was incredibly drowsy, fighting against every desire to close my eyes.

Jisung chuckled, entertaining my wandering hands. “I have business that requires my attention and you need to rest for me.”

I watched through lidded eyes as Jisung opened his nightstand, drawing out an unfamiliar notebook. He grabbed a loose pen from the organizer on his desk before scratching something out against the paper. Afterward, the notebook was returned to its previous location before Jisung was silently escaping the bedroom. I groaned loudly at the soreness in my neck, massaging the tender skin before allowing myself the sleep I deserved.

It felt like minutes before an unexpected scream pierced through the walls, startling me into consciousness. I jolted up in my bed, far too quickly for my poor body which was still recovering from Jisung’s feeding. I shook my head to clear the black spots, opening them again only for my eyes to latch onto Jisung’s nightstand. I swallowed hard, curiosity getting the better of me as I slowly pulled on the drawer’s handle.

The notebook wasn’t very large but I could tell it was old and well-used. I slowly opened the first page, frowning as I read the unfamiliar names listed in random order. A few of them had been carefully blacked out, indecipherable now that they had been clearly forgotten. I was growing distracted by the names, trying to piece together the mysterious puzzle, when another noisy scream reminded me why I had been so suddenly disturbed. Carefully, I returned the notebook to its home, slipping on a pair of slippers before leaving Jisung’s bedroom.

The hallways were dark and empty with no other sounds alerting me to the unexpected scream that had previously penetrated my drowsiness. I started down the familiar purple carpets, holding tightly to the railing as I descended the grand staircase. It was then that I noticed light spilling from a crack in the door leading to the basement. I had never been down there before, warned explicitly by Chan to never enter that room. But his warning did nothing to assuage my curiosity, so I ignored the alarms going off in the back of my head before reaching out for the door.

There were several voices now, clearly audible, attempting to speak over one another. It sounded like an argument as I started down the stairs, frowning when I smelled something that reminded me distinctly of a sharp metallic odor. “It’s fine,” I heard Jisung’s voice growl and I paused in my steps, wondering if I would get in trouble for interrupting. 

“So messy,” Chan spoke now, clearly irritated. “I thought you planned better than this.”

“I did,” Jisung said. “Consider the girl an added bonus.”

I didn’t like the way they were talking, continuing my trek into the basement until I could finally see the three brothers standing together. But I immediately regretted my decision, covering the scream threatening to rip itself free from my chest as I discovered the corpses hanging from the ceiling. It was a disgusting sight, limbs dismembered and lying out across the floor. There was blood everywhere, covering Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, thick and revolting in the way it stained the concrete floors. I instinctively took a step back, wincing when the stair creaked under my weight. Almost immediately, three pairs of eyes turned in my direction and I fell backward in my haste to retreat. 

Chan was on me in an instant, cursing when his touch forced a loud scream to pierce the silence of the room. “Relax, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing my shoulders despite my thrashing. He forced me to meet his eyes and the influence of his power was enough to render me unconscious once again.