#<- gonna start tagging this au (it stands for '' that's not the solution'')

[malwarechips]

pebbles

[jaikoyaki]

ꜱᴛᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ

//Kang Haerin x Reader//univ!AU//short oneshot//

ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇx ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴ. ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴡᴀꜱɴ’ᴛ.

SYPNOSIS ! You’ve never missed a party. But when Kang Haerin—your best friend/fake girlfriend, and a total loser—cups your face and asks you to stay, how could you possibly say no????

WORD COUNT ! 2k TAGS ! Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Fluff & Tension, Light Angst, Nerd/Loser (idfk)!Haerin, Popular!reader, Subtle Jealousy. friends with benefits???, univ!au, fem!reader ofc, CUDDLESSS WARNINGS ! Mild suggestiveness, gay ahhahahah, idk how to write kissing stuff, kinda rushed but idc, Mentions of alcohol/partying,

AUTHOR'S NOTE ! ohmygoff guys i tried a different header style and i don’t like it but i’m too lazy to fix it 😭 anyway i got this idea from a tt i saw like a year ago lol

You’re sitting cross-legged in front of your vanity, lip gloss uncapped in one hand and your phone in the other. A stream of notifications rolls across the screen—texts from your friends about tonight’s party, someone asking if you’re bringing Haerin, and a single message from your ex that you’ve been ignoring all day.  

The girl behind you shifts on the bed, the soft glow from your LED lights casting faint shadows across her face. She’s still in her oversized sweater, the sleeves bunched over her hands, and her glasses are slipping down the bridge of her nose. Loose strands of hair frame her face as she watches you apply your makeup.  

“You’re really going?” Haerin’s voice is soft, almost hesitant. 

You meet her gaze through the mirror, “Yeah. Why, you gonna miss me?”  you joked

Haerin’s eyes drop to her lap, fingers tugging at the frayed hem of her sweater. “No.”  

You roll your eyes. “Liar.”  

She doesn’t answer, but you catch the way her lips press together.

Most people wouldn’t dare accuse Haerin of lying. Half the school is either intimidated by her or obsessed with her—the whole mysterious, nonchalant dreadhead vibe only adds to the appeal. She’s smart, always at the top of her class, but not in a try-hard way. It’s effortless for her.

At least, that’s what everyone else thinks.

You know better.

“awhh, you’re really not gonna miss me?” you tease, tilting your head.

Haerin’s mouth twitches, almost like she’s fighting a smile. She pushes her glasses up her nose with the edge of her sleeve. “Obviously not.”

Yeah. Sure.

The thing about Haerin is that she’s impossible to read—cold and quiet to most, yet with you, she’s something else entirely. A complete loser, really.

She’s obsessed with frogs. Like, weirdly obsessed. She has a whole album of frog pictures on her phone and once made you sit through a 20-minute Ted Talk about how they absorb water through their skin. And don’t even get started on the fish facts—Haerin has this habit of dropping random, useless knowledge on you at the worst times. (“Did you know some fish can change genders?” she once whispered during a math test.)  

And honestly—You find it kind of cute.

You twist around in your seat, setting your lip gloss down and leaning back on your hands. Haerin’s still looking down, her glasses sliding lower on her nose as she worries the edge of her sweater between her fingers.  

“You could come with me, you know.”  

Haerin scoffs, adjusting her glasses. “Why would I do that?”  

“Because,” you shrug, “it would make sense for my girlfriend to be there.”  

Haerin’s head snaps up, eyes rolling behind her lenses. “You’re really still going through with that?”  

You grin. “We already agreed, didn’t we?”  

“You agreed.”  

“Hey! You agreed too,” you remind her. “You were the one who said it’d be a good idea.”  

Haerin huffs, standing up and heading toward your closet.

The whole fake dating thing had been your idea. After your ex moved on a little too fast, you figured making her jealous was the obvious solution. And who better to rope into your ridiculous plan than your own best friend?

It worked maybe a little too well. Your ex definitely noticed, and Haerin played the part better than you expected. Too good, even. The way she held your hand, the way she looked at you like you were the only person in the room—it felt real.

Then your ex texted you she said she wanted to talk, maybe even try again. But you turned her down without hesitation and never mentioned it to Haerin.

And somehow, instead of ending the whole thing right there… you just kept going.

“Great.” You hum to yourself, picking up your brush again.

You hear Haerin rummaging through your closet, followed by the shuffle of fabric. When you glance back, you see her pulling on a blue flannel—and then… a baseball cap.

She adjusts the brim low over her face as she sits back down on the bed.

“You are not wearing a baseball cap to the party,” you arch a brow, grabbing your phone and a handful of makeup products as you walk toward her.

The girl on your bed leans back, tipping the brim upward slightly. “What’s wrong with baseball caps?”

“At a party? Everything.”

You toss the cap behind you and slide into her lap without thinking—an easy, familiar motion, like slipping into your favourite seat. Her hands instinctively hover at your waist, hesitating just for a moment before resting there, light but sure, as if they’ve done it a hundred times before.

“Let me do your makeup,” you say, grinning as you hold her chin between your fingers.

“What?” Haerin blinks, pushing her glasses up with her knuckle.

“You’ll look cute.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Silence. Which is basically a yes to her.

“Yay”

Her breath hitches when you push her glasses up onto her head. Her hands tighten on your waist—just slightly, just enough for you to notice.

You pretend not to.

She watches as you put blush onto her cheeks, her lashes fluttering when you swipe a soft stroke across her nose. When you lean in to do her eyeliner, your thumb resting lightly beneath her jaw, you feel it—the faintest tremor beneath your fingers.

“Sit still,” you murmur, leaning in to draw her eyeliner. Your left hand steadies her head, thumb resting just beneath her jaw.

Her gaze flickers up—not toward the mirror, but directly at you.

And now you’re close enough to see the gold flecks in her irises, the way her breath subtly hitches in her throat.

How is she supposed to stay still when you’re this close?

“There.” You smile, brushing your thumb lightly over the curve of her cheek. “Pretty.”

Though, you could’ve sworn you didn’t put that much blush on her…

Haerin avoids your gaze instead flicking toward the corner of the room

“Hm…wait.” You squint, studying her face. “You’re missing something.”

“Ah!...lipstick.”

Her gaze drops immediately to your lips.

You hum to yourself, twisting slightly as you glance toward the side of the couch, brushing your hand along the cushion in search of the tube. “Damn… I forgot to bring it over.”

You start to push yourself up — but before you can move, Haerin’s hands shift at your sides, her fingers brushing lightly over your waist like she’s steadying you.

You blink. “Haerin?”

Her cheeks are bright pink, her breath shaky. For a moment, it feels like time slows. The warmth of her hands bleeds through your shirt, and you’re close enough to see the quick rise and fall of her chest.

And then her hands slide up, cupping your face, her thumbs skimming over your skin.

Your breath stutters.

She hesitates, eyes flicking down to your mouth, then back up—like she’s waiting for you to stop her.

You don’t.

And then, softly (almost shyly) Haerin kisses you.

Your breath stutters as her mouth moves hesitantly at first—like she’s bracing for you to pull away. But you don’t. Your hands curl into the fabric of her flannel as she leans in deeper, her thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

“Problem solved,” she whispers.

-

You’ve always gone to the parties.

Seriously—always. If there’s a party happening, your name is on the guest. People expect you to be there. You have a reputation for it, being the life of the party, the one who knows exactly where the good drinks are, who’s sneaking into the pool after midnight, and which couple is probably going to break up by the end of the night.

Skipping a party? That’s not really your thing.

So when Haerin asks, “You’re really going?” it’s not a weird question. Of course you’re going.

Or… you were.

Your lips are still tingling when Haerin pulls back, just barely, her face hovering so close that you can feel her breath against your skin. Her glasses have slipped down her nose again, and her hands are still cradling your face like she’s afraid to let go.

Your heart is pounding. Actually, pounding might be an understatement —it’s doing backflips and somersaults and possibly breaking Olympic records right now.

“Now, Stay,” Haerin whispers.

Your eyes widen. “Wha—”

She leans in again, a soft kiss against the corner of your mouth this time. So soft you barely feel it, but it sends a hot spark shooting down your spine.

“Stay,” she says again.

You’re starting to feel dizzy. “Haerin—”

Another kiss—this time against your jaw. Her lips linger there for a second longer than they should, and you swear you feel her breath hitch against your skin.

In Haerin’s head, everything’s loud and quiet at the same time.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t real. Just a dumb plan to make your ex jealous. That’s what Haerin had told herself, over and over, every time you held her hand in public, every time you leaned into her side, every time someone called her your girlfriend. It was supposed to be harmless.

But somewhere between the ice cream dates and the way you smiled at her, it stopped feeling fake.

She should pull away. She should stop.

But she can’t.

Because the truth is, Haerin doesn’t want it to be fake anymore.

“Stay.”

Your brain is short-circuiting. Haerin’s hands slide from your cheeks to the back of your neck, her fingertips pressing lightly into your skin.

What the hell is happening right now??

Her lips brush the tip of your nose next —so soft it almost makes you laugh if you weren’t so busy trying not to combust.

“Stay.”

Her voice is steadier this time — more sure of itself.

You can’t breathe. Your hands are gripping the front of her flannel now, your knuckles white from how hard you’re holding on.

Her lips press lightly to the side of your neck next, just below your ear. Warm. Careful. She pulls away slowly, like she’s testing the reaction—and oh god, if your face gets any hotter you’re going to actually catch fire.

You can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t do anything except sit there, wide-eyed and very much on the verge of collapse.

Haerin tilts her head, brushing her lips over yours one more time—so soft and slow that it feels almost dreamlike. And when she pulls back, her eyes are dark behind her glasses, her cheeks flushed.

“Stay,” she whispers.

And then-

“...Please?”

Your whole body jolts like someone just hit you with a defibrillator. Haerin’s hands are still cupping the back of your neck, her forehead pressed against yours. Her lips are parted, her breath coming out as shaky.

Your mouth opens and nothing comes out. Your heart is beating so loud you can’t even hear yourself think.

“Uh—”

Haerin’s eyes flick to your lips again— and for a second, you think she’s going to kiss you again 

“Okay,” you breathe.

You don’t even know if you said it out loud or just thought it, but Haerin’s face relaxes, the corners of her mouth twitching upward.

And just like that

This was the first time you didn’t attend a party.

_______________

Your phone buzzes from where it’s balanced on the edge of the couch. You reach for it, trying not to disturb Haerin—who is currently asleep on top of you, her face buried in the crook of your neck, her arms lazily draped around your waist.

You squint at the screen. Hanni.

You sigh and swipe to answer the call, careful to keep your voice low.

“Hello?” you whisper.

“DUDE, WHERE ARE YOU?” Hanni’s voice is practically vibrating through the phone, loud enough to make you wince. You can barely hear her over the sound of music thumping in the background.

“I’m… not coming,” you murmur.

“What?!” Hanni’s voice sharpens. “What do you mean you’re not coming? Are you sick???”

You open your mouth to respond, but then Haerin shifts, her arms tightening slightly around your waist as she nuzzles closer. A soft hum escapes her lips.

And suddenly, you can't think of a single reason to leave.

“…I just don’t feel like it,” you say, your voice barely above a breath.

“You don’t feel like it?” Hanni scoffs. “Girl, Since when?”

You hesitate, shifting your phone to your other hand. Haerin shifts too, her breath warm against your neck. You don’t dare move, the same way you’d stay still if a cat had settled in your lap.

That’s when Hanni’s gaze sharpens. Her eyes narrow as she squints at the screen.

“Wait… why are you whispering?”

“I—”

Her gaze drops. Her eyes widen.

“Wait.” Hanni leans closer to the camera, her brows furrowing. “Are those—”

You frown. “What?”

“Y/N.”

“What??” you panic.

“Are those lipstick marks?”

Hanni’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “IS THAT HAE—”

You hang up.

______________________________

hey guys...i may have a dani version of this if anyone’s interested😈😈

taglist: @arihiu @fruityg0rl @keiji-jin @hazel-tanthamore22 @yjiminswallet @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @gtfoiydlyj @loliue @Mj.Db @jkwsel @saysirhc @peranoo @syronns @angiisss @hwonnrinji @nnewjeansstuff @popasi @greenniee @imsogay504 @wintersgff @kki1ooo @sh1ba100 @tashasmywife

[flightfoot]

Top Ten Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2024

So here it is, my top ten list for the year. I'm gonna be adding this as a bookmark subcollection inside of the full collection. That way, people will still be able to see which fics I recommend most highly for the year, even if they can't find this particular tumblr post.

I've got a real range in popularity here. The most popular fic has over 2000 kudos, while the least popular hasn't even hit 20 yet, at the time of my writing this. Just goes to show that popularity doesn't necessarily track with quality, especially for fics that have more niche appeal to begin with.

All of these are over 40K this time. Longer fics just have more going on, so they dominate lists like this. Which is one reason I have the regular lists that are separated by wordcount, to let fics of every length have a chance to shine.

A lot of the lower entries here bounced around in placement. The top five remained pretty stable though, once entered.

Here's the subcollection I set up for them!

10.

Each Hum And Click by @echo-has-queries

Kagami thought her understandably high standards for a match in marriage would mean she could avoid being paired with a man by her mother. That she could keep perfecting her flying-machine skills and eventually take over her mother’s place in leading the Tsurugi steam engine manufacturing company without having to defer to a man. She would have thought that when her mother told her to test the Agreste boy as a marriage match she had been kidding - if her mother ever kid. But she was serious and there truly was no fault to be found with Gabriel Agreste's son - except for the small detail of course, that he was not human. So Kagami must turn to the only fine mechanic she knows in Paris to find a solution to this new dilemma. But perhaps the dilemma could turn out to be the solution itself. Written for the AU Roulette Challenge 2024 with the prompt: Steampunk AU

So this fic is entirely from Kagami's POV, and it is a treat! It's an Adrigaminette fic, which you slowly figure out from reading the fic, if you didn't check the tags - Kagami may have tried not to like Adrien, but he grew on her regardless, and then a few chapters in you find out about hers and Marinette's failed relationship. I loved slowly finding out why the two of them broke up, when there are clearly still strong feelings between them, and how it ties into Kagami's character arc and the overall themes of the story: standing up for yourself, breaking free from those who would control you, and forging your own path.

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9.

Do You Read Me? by @19thsentry-blog

The problem with being a Couffaine was the hereditary bits. The stubbornness. The weird need to pick a fight with authority for no reason besides the principle of it. The way being a Couffaine meant falling in love, fast as a car crash, and just as deadly. It ruined you forever.

So basically, this takes place a few years after Season 5, in the post-Wish world. Luka takes over as the Ladybug Holder, battling Chrysalis in Marinette's place. It's causing him some strain, since it's hard to hold down a job when you need to vanish randomly for long periods of time while on the clock, and it doesn't help that Chrysalis is a lot sneakier than Monarch was.

That's not the core of the story though. No, the real story starts up at chapter 3, when Luka suddenly wakes up in 19th century London, supposedly having always been there, and talking to a 19th century version of Max. From there, he soon gets escorted to Felix, who is a detective around those parts and agrees to host him for awhile.

This is a Sherlock Holmes inspired story, with the setting ripped straight out of those old stories, and I think it does a great job of that! Felix feels natural as Sherlock, with his deductive abilities, and the mystery really does read a lot like a Sherlock story. Though of course, the ultimate cause is more magical in nature.

I love Luka's perspective in this story and his and Felix's dynamic, it just feels very natural and well done!

I was satisfied with how the mystery wrapped up, 19thsentry did a good job of making things make sense at the end, and it felt satisfying. If you want a story with some great characterization for Luka or Felix, or just feel like a mystery, this is the story for you!

8.

A Breach In The Brooch by @piromina

Ladybug and Chat Noir are the heroes of Paris. Hawkmoth is Chat Noir's father. Chat Noir is aware of this. Hawkmoth is not.

So this is an interesting spin on the classic "Gabriel recruits Adrien early on to help him" plotline. Mostly because Adrien is still Chat Noir in this AND still helping Ladybug as a superhero - Gabriel has no clue about his secret identity.

Plagg, unsurprisingly, isn't thrilled about Adrien refusing to tell Ladybug what he knows about Hawkmoth's identity, and that Adrien keeps following Gabriel's orders, even when he knows they're wrong. Though he figures out before Adrien does that Adrien's compulsion to follow his father's orders isn't just a psychological thing...

I really love Plagg in this especially, he's the MVP. He knows what it's like to be compelled to do or not to do certain things, so he's good at comforting Adrien over it and at finding loopholes for him.

---

7.

Phantom Pains (and other hints of you) by @buggachat

She couldn't remember anything. Not where she was going, where she'd been, why she was in this stairwell, or even her own name. But as she watched the blood pool at the base of the steps, she at least knew one thing for certain: the corpse was hers. Getting used to being dead was going to have its growing pains. — “Well, unlucky lady,” Chat Noir greeted with a bow, “Can I get your name?” “Didn’t we just talk about this? I told you, I don’t remember it.” “And I told you,” he reminded, “that you can just pick whatever fits you best.” — Ladybug and Chat Noir may not remember who they once were, but at least the two lost souls can find comfort in each other's company. But as Ladybug starts uncovering more and more memories of her life, letting the past go doesn't seem as easy as Chat Noir claims it to be.

So this is a beautiful, sweet, tragic love story of two lost souls wandering around with each other, yet with Ladybug still desperately wanting to be found, to remember who she was - and wanting to know why Chat so adamantly wanted to stay amnesiac. It's got some neat worldbuilding, and some fantastic prose. It's just a really nice little story!

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6.

A Small but Stubborn Fire by @cardiac-agreste

What if you were the parent of a teenage superhero, but didn't know they were? All you know is the nightmares, the panic attacks, and the bruises. She's missing school, she's disappearing on you, and she's not telling you anything. So you assume the worst: Assault. Depression. A permanent rift in the family. And what do you do when you realize you weren't thinking dark enough? Because your fourteen-year old daughter is the hero who flirts with death on the nightly news. -- Come inside and read about one mother's struggles to raise her daughter in a dangerous world while avoiding the mistakes her own mother made with her.

This is a more serious take on the consequences of Hawk Moth's war on Paris, with actual bloody, painful deaths as a consequence of many akumas, and Parisians developing PTSD because of what they've gone through. Ladybug can fix all the physical scars, but not the mental ones, including her own.

I love the focus on Sabine here. She's not just presented as being a mom - though of course that IS an important role she has. But she's explored as a character in her own right, one with a lot of emotional baggage as a result of her abusive mother, and trying to not fall into her mistakes, but sometimes doing so anyway out of fear for Marinette's safety. She's a really fleshed out, humanly flawed character, sometimes admitting that she would do something selfish if it means protecting the people she cares most about, like her daughter, even if its at others expense. She grows and changes a lot throughout the course of the story, her perspective on many matters changing multiple times as a result of getting new information or seeing the consequences of her previous approaches, and adjusting as a result.

If you want a fic that more realistically explores the dark consequences of Miraculous's setting, that fleshes out Sabine, or just develops a character in a complex way, then I highly recommend you check "A Small but Stubborn Fire" out!

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5.

Finding A Way by @uptoolateart

Collège is nearly over! And what better way to celebrate than a class trip to Costa Rica? But with only a month left to tell Adrien she loves him, Marinette is feeling the pressure. Then – an accident at sea leaves them stranded together on a tropical island…alone. Or are they? Because those footprints in the sand don’t resemble any bird they’ve seen before. And what’s that roaring sound coming from the jungle? ‘Adrien…where ARE we??’ ***** A Jurassic Park / Camp Cretaceous AU that’s been kicking around in my head for over a year

I love the sense of danger permeating this fic, it really feels like Adrien and Marinette are stranded on Jurassic Park (well it's called something else in order to integrate it better into the ML universe, but it operates like Jurassic Park). They're making the best of it though, doing their best to survive - and along the way, getting closer together.

I like that it's not JUST them though, Gabriel and Nathalie find out where they ended up pretty early on and go to rescue them, with Alya and Nino stowing away. It was cool to see that side of things as well.

Oh yeah, this fic is rated M for violence and gore. It's because dinosaurs eat people alive and leave their body parts everywhere. If you can handle the Jurassic Park movie (or presumably the book the movie was based on, but I haven't read that), then you should be just fine.

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4.

Boulangerella by @aidanchaser

Once upon a time, magic was wild. The two princes of the kingdom have been tasked with choosing their brides by the end of their 21st birthday celebrations. Crown Prince Adrien Agreste will have to choose between a woman who can protect his kingdom, a woman offering the power to wake his sleeping mother, and the woman he has loved and admired for the past year. Then there's also the seamstress that he is suddenly falling for. By the time he realizes he doesn't have the power to choose at all, it may be too late.

I love a good fairy tale AU, and this is no exception. Aidanchaser started writing it before Season 5 came out, so it's wrong about some things. Most notably, Felix's posthumous father was a good and decent person here, and one of the twin rings is Felix's Amok while the other one is Adrien's Amok, instead of both of them being Adrien's Amok.

This was a well-crafted tale, with kwamis operating as Fae: they can give power, but only if the wielder gives something up to pay for it. For temporary usage of their power, it can be something small and innocuous, such as giving Plagg cheese in exchange for his help. More expansive uses of their power requires greater sacrifices however, even sacrificing more nebulous things such as memories or hope.

The kingdom's currently being terrorized by this unknown villain, Hawk Moth, as in the show. Ladybug and Chat Noir emerge to battle him, but for some reason (*cough, cough*), King Gabriel isn't fond of the superheroes and wants them captured.

Gabriel isn't the only threat out there, Lila's skulking around, hinting that she knows how to wake up Emilie from her mysterious illness, if only Adrien marries her. And she's not about to take no for an answer.

If you've been wanting a fairy tale/fantasy Miraculous AU, I recommend giving Boulangerella a shot!

---

3.

He Couldn't Remember (Falling For Her) by @purpleautumnvision

"If I was given a choice in who Chat Noir would be, I would've chosen you." "And there's nobody else in the whole world I'd rather have as my little bug." Without secret identities in the way, Marinette and Adrien get to live out their love story and put their heads together to discover the identity of Hawk Moth... but an unforeseen twist puts the Miraculouses in Gabriel's hands. When he makes his wish for a world where his wife never became sick from using the broken Peacock Miraculous, the universe requires someone else to become sick in order to maintain balance. Who better than his greatest enemy, Ladybug herself? Adrien, with his memories rewritten by the wish, wakes up in a world without superheroes, without Hawk Moth, without Marinette, without friends, and without a clue as to why everything feels so wrong. Something's missing, but he's gonna find out what. Then he'll put his world back into place.

So this was a fascinating scenario, with Adrien waking up in a world where Marinette was dead while his mother was alive, a world that as far as he knew had always been the case... but having weird feelings he can't explain. And not just him, I love how much focus Alya gets here as well! Turns out that the memories are kind of hidden, but still present, and since Adrien and Alya never got to meet Marinette in this universe (she died just before the new school year began, at the same time that Emilie did in the normal universe) AND Adrien and Alya were her closest friends in the previous universe, their feelings towards her are closest to the surface and least impacted by the memories from this universe.

The other people in this universe... well, the class isn't taking Marinette's death well. It's fascinating to see just how much her death effects them, to see how it haunts them, and I loved seeing their reactions to Adrien's weird behavior about their dead classmate who he never got a chance to meet, it shows how strange some of this can look to the outside, and it doesn't help that these are grieving kids.

Just... this is a great fic, I highly recommend checking it out!

---

2.

Symbiotic Whiskers by B1ackout

Adrien Agreste aka Cat Noir was given the cat ring miraculous to help Ladybug in protecting Paris. But something had found him first, a silent companion that granted him strength and power he never knew existed. Bonded with a symbiote, Cat Noir faces Paris alongside Ladybug without even knowing that someone left a magical ring in his room. (Canon Divergence)

This is a phenomenal fic that deserves more attention. It's kind of funny how he just goes "hey I've got superpowers, she says that the thing we have that gives superpowers is called the Black Cat Miraculous and that the being that gives them is called a kwami, obviously that must be what I have!" though that gets stretched more and more as Adrien's experiences with the symbiote contradict what he's heard about how kwamis work, and Tikki gets increasingly worried about "Plagg's" weird behavior. It's a dark, somewhat brutal fic (people die permanently, and they're not always villains), and it's absolutely worth a read, this is an excellent crossover!

1.

Withered Wings by @11jj11

Nino wasn’t sure if anyone had ever willingly took the akuma butterfly before him, but with his mind completely open to this apparent son of Hawk Moth he knew that he couldn’t turn him away. Not someone that was so afraid, not someone who would be left at the mercy of Hawk Moth.

This fic is amazing! Just... some absolutely stellar Adrino, with some nice Alyanette on the side, AND it's one of the best Enemies AU (well, sort of. Adrien's on Hawkmoth's side, but Nino isn't, exactly), in the fandom! I love how much we get of Nino's perspective, his determination to save this boy who's been thrown into these battles, who clearly doesn't want to hurt people but is compelled to do so, while balancing it with trying to prevent damage to anyone else as well. He has to be the one to look after Adrien, because no one else will do so.

I also love the focus Alya gets here, as Marinette's partner. She does an amazing job in the role, with every Miraculous she gets, even though she isn't a perfect wielder.

That's something else, I like the bits of worldbuilding this adds in, with people who fully embody the aspect a kwami represents being able to transform more fully. That does not mean, however, that an imperfect match is a bad thing, the kwami and wielder can still be very strong together and get along well, even if they don't perfectly align.

I adore how Nino had to balance his roles in this, helping Adrien without hurting others, even fighting back against the heroes as needed, as much as he didn't want to. And how understanding people were when they found out the full story of what was going on. It's a truly fantastic story that anyone who likes Enemies AU, Adrino, or just want to read a good Miraculous fic should check out.

I do want to warn that Gabriel and Nathalie are significantly OOC in this. Gabriel's even more abusive and colder than he is in canon, and Nathalie is WAY worse. This fic started before season 5, so it wasn't known what Nathalie's red line would be. As a result, Adrien's more downtrodden than he is in canon, since the consequences of disobedience are worse than being cut off from friends, or even being made to sit in a blank white room indefinitely.

[dramatiquechipmunk]

2024 Fic Rundown

Thank you @bloodinwine for the tag :) I just started to post at the beginning of December, so naturally, my portfolio is still under construction, but it was still nice to look back :)

words posted: 68,116

additional words written: 147, 069 (most of my main fic is already written offline, and now it's just being edited)

grand total of words: 215,185

fandoms: Baldur's Gate 3

highest kudos: Double Trouble currently at 50

highest hit oneshot: See above, 827 hits

new things I tried: Character studies and different character POVs. My main fic contains (or will contain) at least a chapter for each of the companions that is written from their POV and with their tone of voice. I tried to adapt what Joe Abercrombie does with his POV switch to my own style. I also dabbled in poetry! And it's something I want to continue exploring. In general writing for me was a passion I rediscovered during my burnout leave. It had been ten years since I actually wrote down something that was not an email or a report. So, bringing this back into my life and getting so much joy out of it, without any expectations, has been probably the greatest gift.

fic I spent the most time on: Marked by fate my main fic, featuring my chaos goblin, Octavia.

fic I spent the least time on: Still Standing. Still Yours - funnily, my first smutty one-shot.

favorite thing I wrote: Catch Me if You Can - which I recently started to post! 50's AU with Astarion as a detective

favorite thing(s) I read: Oh man, this is hard. I read so many good works this year, the community is really oozing with talent. But if I had to pick my 5 favourites (in no particular order,) they would have to be

Strange Highways - by @nocryptographer

Arcane Ops Solutions AND Whumptomber 2024 - Baldur's Gate 3 Poetry Edition - by @fartasticdurge

Symphony of Shadow & Light - by @shandoratheexplorer

Hunting Creatures - by @strixamans

(and my bookmark list is overflowing with so many others I loved from authors I absolutely adore like @alwaysmauria and @vakariansyndrome)

writing goals for 2025:

Do a poetry project

Finish Marked by Fate and start posting the sequel (Bound by Shadows)

Write a short fic or a one-shot for another fandom (The Legend of Vox Machina is occupying the other part of my brain so I think it's time)

Write a crack-fic (sometimes I just need the stupid)

new works:

Gonna feature it again, because it's new hehe Catch Me if You Can

no-pressure tags for everyone I already mentioned in the post!

[andacherrycoke]

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @elvensorceress ☺️

I write a lot of little pieces of things that I don’t really intend on turning into a whole thing either because I’m working on something else or just because I need to get it out of my system so I think I’m gonna use fuck it Friday to kind of put those out in the world when they otherwise would never see the outside of my Google docs. This is a Flatliners au I was noodling with the other day because the movie was on

“Two thirty,” Chimney wagers, and Buck laughs.

“Two thirty-five,”

“Two forty.”

“Give it up, Chim. Three minutes.”

Hen gasps and Chimney throws up his hands. “Buck, you’re insane.”

Buck settles back in his chair, smug with his victory. “Maybe.”

Eddie’s been silent this entire time, watching Buck bartering away seconds of his life like they’re playing penny poker. But he can’t sit back and watch it anymore.

“Three thirty,” he says.

Their heads whip towards him and all three of them gape at him in silence for a moment.

“Eddie,” Buck croaks out. “Fuck no. Three for—”

“Buck,” Eddie snaps. “Whatever time you say I’m just going to keep saying more.” He pastes on a grin that feels both fake as hell and a little feral. “Besides, you and Chimney have already gotten to go. It’s my turn.”

Buck stares at him, a combination of hurt and fury on his face. It’s not hard for Eddie to know exactly what Buck’s thinking, that Eddie is taking this from him, that Buck doesn’t want him to take a risk that he himself would throw himself on with open arms. But they’re made of the same stubborn material, and Buck knows Eddie won’t quit and all Buck will manage is driving the time up.

So instead of arguing he stands so fast his chair hits the floor, and he doesn’t even pick it up before he stalks out of the room.

Chimney looks between Hen and Eddie. “I’m gonna—” he jerks his thumb towards the door and then takes off after Buck.

Left with just Hen, Eddie lets his shoulders slump, and he drags a hand down his face before finally looking at her.

“Eddie…” she starts hesitantly. “Three thirty is a long time.”

“So is three minutes. I couldn’t let him do it. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do it to him.”

“So your solution is to make him do it to you, but for longer?”

He looks down at his hands. “Better me than him. I can take it.”

“Take it? Eddie, it’s dying. Death is not something you can just take and shrug off.”

Eddie thinks about the way sand looks when it’s soaking up his blood. “I’ve always managed so far.”

She swears under her breath. “The two of you, I swear to god.”

It’s probably not even Friday anymore for some of you but whatever tagging @pettyeddiediaz @megslovesbooks @fiona-fififi

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: this chapter is one that is very special to me and really echoes a lot of the same feelings that I’ve experienced through the years. writing this chapter felt really healing for me, as I hope maybe it can to you who might’ve felt the same. Because of this, please read the warnings below and read what you feel comfortable with! Remember that no matter who you are, or what you’ve gone through you absolutely deserve love!! 

Part 5 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, explicit language, HARD angst to FLUFFY fluff, mentions of alcohol, fingering (f receiving), squirting,  dry humping, nipple play, protected sex, fluffy sex, cockwarming

CWs: implications of jealousy and possession (past), non-con pressure, fist fighting, quite a bit of blood, bruises, and other wounds, mentions of a scar, mentions of past toxic relationship, mentions of nausea, mentions of low self worth and self deprecating habits 

Word count: 8.7k (grab a blanket, your plushie, some fuzzy socks...also I promise no other chapter will be this long LOL) 

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6

-Two years ago, and some change- 

Tonight was different. It could have been for a number of reasons. Maybe it was the way that he held onto your hand tighter than he usually did. You swayed your body next to his like you thought that you should have been doing. If you hadn’t you would have looked out of place. He hated when you looked out of place. The skimpy dress you had worn that night was just for him. You thought that he would like the way that the straps barely clung to your shoulders and the way that it was snug against your curves. 

He was watchful. Silent. You had known him to be a generally loud and gregarious person. He had many friends. Many of his friends you really did like; but, there were others that you had liked less...the friends with wandering and judging eyes. 

“Why her?” They would ask. 

“You could do better.” They would whisper in his ear when they thought that you couldn’t hear. 

“Isn’t she...boring?” 

“Not boring when I’ve got her alone.” 

The club was full of people; a suffocating amount. Bodies thrashed up against eachother in all their sweating heat. Shiny polyester and the tulle ruffles of shirts scratched against your skin in passing. Under the line of sight, no one could see where hands might reach or creep in the dark corners of that room. With the music blasting, no one could hearo f the sinful desires whispered from ear to ear. 

“Don’t you want to get outta here?” He had craned down to give you his message. 

“W-why don’t we just dance? I like this song.” 

“But we’ve been here for so long.” His hand gripped tight on your arm. “Really. Let’s get out of here.” 

“But--” 

“Let’s bounce. I don’t wanna be here any more. Let’s go have fun somewhere else.” 

Fear rose in your throat. His tone had changed to the one that you had been trying to keep at bay for weeks.

“Baby, I’m having fun!” You tugged back at your arm which he hadn’t released. Your brain worked quickly, and you did what you thought would’ve been distracting enough. You kissed him. 

Hard and fast you shoved your tongue down his throat in ways that you only would do when it had been the two of you alone. The music was loud. No one could hear the way he forced a moan into your mouth. Your hands wove deeply into his hair that was swathed in that cologne of his that was dizzying. It was saltwater and cinnamon. 

Your body pressed up flat against his chest and, as expected, he threw his arms back around you and kissed back with the same fervency that you tried to drench him in. 

Your words were breathless. “Can we...stay?” 

“Baby, how can you say that when you kissed me like that? God, if I could screw you right here and now...” 

His friends had been watching. Or pretending not to watch. It was no lie that their eyes had been peeping from the corners. 

“Let’s get some more drinks then? Hm? Maybe later we can head back to your--” 

“--NO! I want you now.” His words were violent, and his hands starved in his feverish way, yet still, he sucked his devilish smile into your neck. “Baby, please.” 

Just a few more drinks. That was all that it would take. Just a few more drinks and he would be a stumbling mess. He would forget his name and you and then he wouldn’t be able to take you anywhere. You loathed yourself for feeling that way, but it was the only solution you could think of. 

“Let’s go out back. No one walks down that alley, you know so.” 

A nervous laugh slipped off of your lips. “I-I know, but--it’s so cold outside, it’s snowing an-and it won’t be comfortable--” 

“--I don’t need comfortable, I just need you.” 

Lazily, his eyes met with one of his friendsand he flicked his finger to beckon him over. “You. Come with us. We’re gonna need someone to watch the door.” 

His friend scoffed and shoved his glass into the hands of a stranger. “Fine. What are you gonna pay me back with?” 

“I dunno, I’ll think of that later.” 

Your arm wiggled, a slight attempt to free yourself of his grasp. “Babe, babe, come on. I-it’s risky, an-and--” 

“--And what?!” 

“I-I don’t...I don’t...” 

“Babe I thought you liked it when we did risky stuff? Remember last week? The bathroom? You liked that didn’t you?” 

“That-that was different.” 

Above your heads the speakers boomed with a bass drop that you could feel vibrate in your chest. Strobe lights of dozens of different colors blinded your vision. Your head panged with a pain that must’ve been the alcohol, but with each passing second, you felt more and more lightheaded. Air just barely escaped from your lungs and your lungs felt like dead weight. 

His voice had been muffled. Your feet started taking steps that didn’t feel like they were their own. He used his body mass to part the sea of bodies, drawing you farther and farther away from it all. The two men chuckled as you neared the back of the building where the haze from the stage seemed to accumulate. 

“Stand right at this door and don’t let anyone get out from it. Don’t leave until we come back in.” 

His friend rolled his eyes, then took out his showy looking pen to take a long drag. He blew it into the other man’s face. “Have fun you two.” 

The cold winter air stung at your dry lungs. You realized then that you had forgotten your coat inside. Under your feet, flaky and white snow had mixed in potholes which had filled with iridescent oil. Together, the only thing that you could think of in that moment was how the two colors and mixed. In no way where they similar: one, black and slick, the other soft and pure. They made no sense. 

“Ohhhh...Baby.”

His breath was hot and it steamed in the air like some kind of deadly and wispy poison. His hands were big. Much bigger than yours, and they seemed to wrap you all up in them. They were magnets to your hips which fell into them with ease. He must’ve been cold too you figured: goosebumps formed on his arms where the falling snow fell on them. 

“You’re all mine. No one else’s. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me. Who’s baby are you?” 

“Y-yours.” Your voice trembled. 

“That’s right.” 

His freezing hands swept up both sides of your face and you prayed that he couldn’t feel the tears stream from your eyes to his fingers. All at once, you felt nauseous, you felt sick, shame, rage, embarrassment and fear. With the adrenaline pumping in your ears, you did something even you didn’t expect. 

“S-stop.” 

His mouth continued lapping over yours, even your words which you repeated, 

“Stop!” 

“Baby, we’re just getting started!” Frigid fingers crept up your shirt to your bare skin. 

“I SAID STOP!” 

You had bitten his lip, and the metallic taste of his blood dripped onto your lip. 

“You bitch!” He stumbled, then wiped the blood to his finger. 

Hot tears fell freely, and your body shook: perhaps it was the cold, or your fright, but it shook every part of you. 

“What the fuck?!” He rose his hand in the air, “Who the fuck to you think--”

“--HEY!” 

A voice echoed down the alley and bounced off the brick walls. He was a black outline, but it was undoubtedly him who had shouted. He was still, but all at once he started running, sprinting towards you and you cowered to the snow. 

“Don’t you fucking--” 

The other man ran right up to the both of you. He was shorter, but crashed into the other taller man with a fist raised. He nearly had to jump a little, but he had knocked him square in the face with a horrible fleshy sounding thud. 

He finished his sentence, “-Don’t you fucking touch her!” 

The shorter man rubbed at his knuckles which had bloodied quickly. Your boyfriend had slipped on the ice a few steps back, falling to the ground clumsily and wetting it from the blood dripping from his mouth and nose. He laughed incredulously. 

“You pack quite a punch for a little guy don’t you? Well, you picked the wrong fight--” 

He rose to his feet with fists raised, then took a swing at the other man. He was agile, and ducked with ease, then twisted around the taller’s body to punch into his ribs. Still he didn’t miss each punch, and your boyfriend landed hits to his face as well. The stranger fell to the ground this time, groaning out and splashing into the cotton snow. While he was down, the taller man kicked into his sides. 

“How do you like that? Huh??? You have no FUCKING RIGHT. This is between me and my girlfriend, so, fuck. off.” 

The stranger spat blood to the white snow. “A-actually, I did have a right.” 

“What was that??” He kicked harder. 

“You-you were going to hit her? Weren’t you? Who the hell hits their girlfriend?” 

In one motion, the shorter man was back up on his feet, stumbling, but still swinging. He was weaker, but still punched into the taller man’s sides relentlessly. The two men sparred, and you felt frozen. It was as if you weren’t even breathing. 

Stop. Stop. Stop. Your thoughts rang, but your voice couldn’t muster it. 

“You’re the fucking--” Punch. “--Scum--” Punch. “--Of the--” Punch. “--Earth.” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes had become bloodshot red. In a mix of furious arms, he had scraped his wristwatch against the other man who cried out with a horrible sounding whimper, and then a flash of red started to flow down his arm. 

Your dress had soaked through with the freezing cold water and you had nearly buried your eyes into your arms. Never had you felt so small, so helpless. 

“HEY! What’s going on down here?” 

A flash of blue and red lights lit up the pitch black alley. 

“What’s going on??” 

The policeman’s voice buzzed over the loudspeaker on his car. 

The shorter man was a crumple on the ground and he hissed out with pain from his teeth. His arm quivered with pain from the gash that had been pressed into it. By contrast, the peaceful snow fell lightly onto his body and got tangled into his curled, dark hair. Your boyfriend; you hadn’t even seen him turn to sprint down the opposite side of the alley. 

Regardless, the stranger still managed, “Ar-are you okay? Did he hurt you?” 

Your dry and tear-stained cheeks crinkled. “N-no. He didn’t.” 

“T-that’s good. Listen, I-I need to go. I can’t afford for them to take me. Ask them to help you and take you home. 

The clink of the policeman’s keys on his hip jingled as he neared. 

“I’m sorry I have to run.” He stumbled to his feet. For a few seconds, you could see his eyes under the flickering yellow streetlight. They weren’t brown or black, but some kind of dark stormy grey. 

He went running down the alley, as fast as he could manage with a limp to his leg and his dripping arm creating a trail behind him. 

As he ran, he left behind him a scent, foreign in the winter air. You couldn’t name it exactly, but you had guessed at least for then, it might’ve been something like rosemary and cedarwood. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

2am, and you felt euphoric. Like a fucking cloud. Even though it was typical, there really were no other words that could describe it. 

Felix and Chan bumped their hips against yours while they danced in the rhythm of the song that the DJ had played. Both of their bright smiles were utterly adorable, and the three of you doubled over in your laughter at each other’s terribly awkward dance moves. Chan made his best attempt at the robot, and Felix busted out some of his favorite internet dances. You rose your hand to the side of your face as if to say I don’t know them. Felix’s tiny hands interlaced into yours and you danced with him too while Chan mimed throwing dollar bills into the air. 

“How much longer?” You yelled over the music until it scratched your throat. 

“I don’t know! I didn’t get a chance to look at the line up!” Chan’s body bumped up against others in the crowd while he tried to check is phone. “It’s fine! I’m sure he should be coming on soon!” 

You couldn’t remember the last time  that you had been to a show that wasn’t to see Jisung. It was strange thinking about all of the things you used to worry about when you had gone to see him in the past: was your outfit sexy enough, had you remembered to put on your lip gloss...you’d even worry over stupid shit like if you had missed any spot on your legs while shaving. 

None of those worries filled you now. The clothes that you had put on in your haste made little sense, and were a bit warm in the room where sweat practically dripped from the walls. You had even left your apartment in such a hurry--you had been working on a new piece from a spark of inspiration during midday.

“He said that he was going near the end I think!!” You informed your friends. 

Chan did a little excited dance. You didn’t know if he was more thrilled over the fact that he was there or how you had promised to introduce him to Changbin after the show. 

The lights shifted, turning from pink to blue, and the music faded too. Your beating heart slowed as the atmosphere changed and Felix clawed back onto your arm. 

“Oh my God!!! I think that it’s gonna be him!!!” Chan nearly leapt into the air. 

It was frightening how familiar it all felt; you felt as if you had been transported right to that first night, the night that you had met him and the night that he had entranced you up on that stage. Everything in the room darkened, and the smoke slithered onto the stage. Everyone had quieted with their focus narrowing on the empty expanse that had been set up all for him. 

To the side of the stage, the announcer chuckled into the mic, “Ladies and Gents, as you know him...SPEAR B!” 

Music erupted like a crack of lighting over the speakers and was so sudden that nearly everyone in the crowd jumped out of their skin. The spotlights flooded the stage in a blinding white light, and before your eyes could process it, he had thrown himself to centerstage with some kind of magic or trick of the eye. It was so confusing, all you could do was stand in shock. 

Rapid fire lyrics flew off his tongue with lightspeed, and he carried himself around the stage with as much regality as a king. His hooded eyes held nothing but concentration at each of his words, and he threw his arms around with emphasis so you could hang onto every single syllable. He shone under the lights where he had adorned himself in his favorite array of silver and crystal jewelry: his trademark chain around his neck blinked like diamonds. Every curve of the muscles on his thick arms and thighs tensed and the vein on the side of his neck flared as he spoke. With a bite to his lip and an indulgent smile, he owned very single part of his own world. 

He was fucking mesmerizing. 

Felix and Chan were wildly flapping their bodies around and thrashing their heads along with every other body in the crowd, but you had stood still. It was unbelievable that you had been close to him. All your memories of him holding you softly in his arms, planting kisses into every tender inch of your skin seemed so far away, but so close. He couldn’t have been the same person. 

Your heart swelled with a pain. It might’ve been warning, precautionary, or fearful. Or, it might’ve been warm, intoxicated, infatuated. Your own mind couldn’t comprehend it. 

Over the hundreds of eyes in the crowd, somehow, he had found yours, and it was just as that first night had been. He was so massive, so crushing. His confidence was something so addictive and his gaze so thick that you felt as if it  was crushing. Still, there was one thing that was different about it now. 

He knew you. He wasn’t just some stranger. 

He knew your ins and outs, he knew your fears, the way that you would shy away from him or how you would lean into him closer. After that one meeting, you had encompassed everything that he could imagine, as he did for you. 

You had started as strangers, but now you couldn’t even imagine a time when you weren’t. 

He had broken his composure for mere seconds to smile at you. It was a simple: I see you. And you see me. 

It was cliché. Fucking cheesy as hell. God, it was sugary sweet and rotten; a phrase you hadn’t said in a year or more. But, with the dozens of other girls screaming it in that room, bumping with bodies and bass ringing, condensation on the walls and music louder than your own voice, you joined the cacophony.  Even if he couldn’t hear you screamed the words with your whole chest:

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU SEO CHANGBIN!” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

The music had subsided, and the stage lit to normal as the stagehands switched around the arrangement for the next act. You and your two friends were out of breath and exhausted. Sweat beaded on all of your brows and you felt it dripping down your back as well. The three of you stood laughing out in your euphoria: it as a high like none other. 

“Damn. Why do I really want ice cream right now?” Felix huffed out his laugher and slung Chan under his arm. “Doesn’t that sound like a really good idea?” 

Chan whipped the damp strands of hair from his eyes. “That does sound like a really good idea. But...you think any places will be open?” 

With surprised glances, the three of you burst out hysterically. 

You wiped an exhilarated tear from your eye, “We’d have to go to the store.” 

Somehow, it was the funniest thing that you could have said and Felix and Chan held their sides in their laughter. 

“Do-do you think that Changbin would want to come with us?” Felix helped fix your sweater which had become a bit ajar on your frame. 

“I don’t see why not.” 

Chan did another adorable little dance. “Holy hell. I can ask him about his process!!!.” He scooped you up into a tight hug. “This is so exciting!!!!!” 

“Just don’t...scare him away.” You patted into Chan’s hair with adoration. 

“He should be back out any minute right? He said he would come looking for you?” 

You nodded, feeling your heart start to race at the prospect. You hadn’t felt this giddy about the attention in a while--not at least, attention that had been given to you without a condition. 

Behind your little group, you felt a tug on your wrist, then your cheeks swelled with warmth. 

“Chang--” 

“--Holy fuck! You actually came!!” 

Jisung’s eyes lit up and an inhumanely wide smile spread across his face. 

“...Jisung--” 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it, you actually came! Shit, I really thought that after we talked the other day that--” 

Chan ripped Jisung’s grip from your wrist. “You better cut that out.” Once as giddy as he was before, his expression had turned deadly serious. 

“What are you doing here?” Felix pushed you slightly behind him. 

“Performing? This is my show too. I’m on in thirty. You’re here to see me too?” 

“Like hell we are.” Chan rolled his eyes. 

Jisung chose to ignore him, bringing his attention back to you. 

“B-baby, thank you so much for coming, and for giving me another chance--” 

“--Another chance? Y/n, what is he talking about?” Felix asked, then both of your friends eyes were on yours. 

A knot formed back up in your throat with your decisions that you had let hang since you had las spoken to Jisung. You thought you had been clear enough to him, and you had told your friends you had thought that you had ended it. 

Chan huffed out an authoritative sigh, “We’re leaving. Come on,” he wrapped an arm around both you and Felix. “Let’s just get out of here.” 

“No! Wait! Y/n don’t leave! Let-let’s talk about this, y-you never let me see you any more, I’ve been missing you...missing you like crazy,” His grip reached out to you once more, pulling your whole arm closer to him with a pain that panged in your shoulder. “--since you’re here...let’s just talk this out okay?” 

The music in the room grew louder once more, and the next act entered the stage with the announcer’s enthusiastic voice. The lights flashed out, and suddenly all of your bodies were bathed in red, pink, and blue light. 

Another memory, from another night, flashed before your eyes. He held onto your arm tighter than he usually did. His incessant eyes pleaded over to yours like he had countless times before. 

“Jisung, stop.” 

“I-I just don’t understand! Let’s not do this here! Can’t we go somewhere private where the two of us can talk? Baby--” 

Another hand grasped at your opposite arm, then it snuck around your waist. 

“--What the hell do you think you’re doing to her?”  

Changbin pulled you into his chest with a force that knocked the wind out of your lungs, then he immediately inspected the arm where the other had grabbed you so tightly. 

“Did he hurt you? Let me see.” 

Chan and Felix’s eyes widened in their shock. 

Jisung pushed himself closer. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing Changbin? Don’t get involved in this, it doesn’t concern you.” 

“Actually, yes, it does.” 

Everything was unfolding before your eyes, and you felt faint. All the secrets, lies, the way that you had entangled yourself in it all, was crushing you like vines with thorns. Your fear bit bile in your throat, and you couldn’t decide if you felt strong enough to run. 

Before you could say anything about it, Changbin pulled you out from the crowd, faster than your wobbling legs could handle. He was furious, you could tell, but he tried his best not to let it seep over to you. Changbin muttered curses under his breath, but pushed forward, past the dancing bodies, past the stage, past the maze of speakers and other sound equipment in the back. 

“Let’s just get out of here okay?” His fingers dug into your waist. 

Behind you, Felix and Chan shoved their way a few paces behind, ultimately getting caught in the web of people moving this way and that. Not far behind them, was Jisung thrashing with all his might to catch up. 

With your heartbeat in your ears, words started spilling out from your mouth: 

“Changbin, I didn’t tell you--I-I still haven’t told you, but you need to know before--” 

Changbin swung the back door to the venue and it slammed behind you with a metallic clang. It was nearly blizzarding outside, but he didn’t seem to care at all. Rather, he pulled you back into his chest to hug you tightly. He was desperate in the way that he hung onto your body; like he was trying to suck the very life from you. 

“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you? I’m so sorry I couldn’t get there sooner. He’s a fucking dick, I won’t let him touch you again, I promise.” 

Your nose clogged immediately, and your sobs came out choked and full of utter fear. 

I’m going to loose him. I’ll lose him. He’ll hate me. He’ll let go, and never come back. 

“Chang-Changbin...Jisung, he was--” 

“Beautiful, why are you crying? Stop, stop, it’s okay.” He soothed you, wiping the tears from your cheeks that got muddled with snow. He too had snow clinging to his eyelashes and his hair that was also strung with sweat. 

The back door swung open with another startling clank, and Jisung threw himself out of it with Felix and Chan holding him back by the arms. 

“HE DOESN’T EVEN FUCKING KNOW HER!” Jisung screeched, then tore free of both of your friends. 

He lunged himself at Changbin who had seconds to respond. He turned his back to shield you with his body, and Jisung clawed with an animalistic energy. 

“HE DOESN’T FUCKING KNOW HER!” Jisung had been sobbing too, then swung a haphazard fist to Changbin’s back. 

Felix and Chan came rushing to catch you as you fell into their arms, then Changbin swiftly turned to return the hit. 

“Me?? You’re fucking crazy!!” He dodged another hit. “What the hell do you know about her?? Huh? YOU don’t know a thing about her!!” 

Jisung wiped his eyes then threw another lazy punch. “What are you talking about???” 

The two men stood still, both of them turning to turning to look at you with heaving chests. In your friends arms you trembled, and your worst nightmares unfolded right in front of your face. Your body fell to the ground, and the snow seeped into your clothes, just as it did on that night so long ago. 

“Holy shit.” Jisung grabbed both sides of his head in his realization. “She fucking played us. SHE FUCKING PLAYED ME.” 

Changbin cast his eyes away from you, just as he had when he had barely known a thing about you. He wouldn’t give you the pleasure. 

“You were fucking her too, weren’t you?” Jisung laughed out like a madman. “So that’s what she’s been doing this whole time I haven’t seen her. She’s been fucking you and--” 

Changbin’s fist rose, and it came crashing into the side of Jisung’s face so suddenly that you and your friends jumped from how fast he had done it. 

He said nothing, but proceeded to raise his fist again, then sent it right back into the soft of Jisung’s cheek before he had a minute to respond to the first. Jisung whimpered, then spat blood out of his mouth. His tears had returned, but this time, they were infused in his own anger. The two boys steadied their stance, looking into each other’s eyes with lethal rage. Jisung attacked back with a yell that echoed through the alley, and he too landed punches to Changbin’s sides in sharp hooks. Changbin then grabbed the other man’s shirt collar, pulling him close, then knocking him back with red and bloody fists. 

The two boys scuffled and slipped in the snow which had slicked on the ground to make each of their steps clumsy. Jisung sobbed through each of his punches, whereas Changbin held his teeth shut with a grit, merely grunting as he swung more and more. Your own tears blurred your vision, and your chest felt tight; nearly like it was about to burst. Your friends clung to your body just as tight, hushing to you and yelling at the boys to stop, but their voices sounded distant and faint. 

Jisung landed punch to Changbin’s eye which split the skin there on his eyebrow. Changbin returned the favor in the same spot, creating the same effect. With crackled lips they swore at eachother, and you could only make out one phrase from Changbin’s mouth: 

“Don’t you. Fucking. Touch her.” 

The door swung, “Changbin?” 

Minho hugged his coat around himself, only to jump out of his skin at the scene in front of him. He dodged two of Jisung’s swings as he clambered over to his roommate to hold him back. He was nearly two seconds late: with a roar, the two boys landed terrible blows at eachother, knocking them both to the ground. 

“‘Bin--stop, STOP!” Minho wrapped his arms around his friend. 

Just as he did, two other boys exited from the venue: one of them tall with long black hair and the other with hair as white as the snow. 

“Fuck you.” Jisung growled dizzily, and his two friends swooped in to help him back to his feet. They too looked furious, but Jisung waved them off groggily. “Don’t w-waste your fucking time. Y-you--” He pointed directly at Changbin. “D-don’t waste your time...on her. I-I’m such a fucking fool.” 

“Sung, let’s get out of here.” Jisung’s tall friend urged him. “Anyone on that street could’ve called the cops.” 

Minho held Changbin up then looked to you and your startled friends eyes seriously. “We need to leave too.” 

“We need to get him to a hospital.” Felix’s voice cracked. 

“You think that he can afford a bill? N-no. We can’t do that. I’ll explain later...he’ll be fine. He’s done this to himself before. Idiot.” Minho slugged his roommates arm over his shoulder and Chan rushed to grab the other. 

Your legs shook when Felix helped you to your feet. Any second, you thought they would give out. Thick strands of blood and saliva caught on Changbin’s lip. Seeing him like that made you feel even sicker. It was all your fault. 

“M-My place is close-by. We can go there.” You locked eyes with Minho. 

“Okay. We’ll go there.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Your hands trembled violently once you brought your key to your lock. They burned with the cold, and were wet from how you had clawed at the snow. 

“Here, let me.” Felix gently offered. 

Your apartment was an absolute wreck. Tiny as it was, you had managed to make a mess of it all with art supplies, dirty dishes, hundreds of sticky notes with reminders and textbooks. As you entered, you swept everything to the side with your feet. 

“W-what do we do?” Chan’s own fingers had turned pink from the cold where he held Changbin: head slumped and blinking hazily, then shivering furiously--the action thus making him groan out in pain. 

“He-he’s freezing. There’s blood...” You fell from Felix’s arms. “I-I have to help him.” Once more, tears welled in your eyes. “We need to get him warm. Get him in the shower and clean him off.” 

“Okay. Where’s the bathroom?” 

You guided the group of boys down your hall where it became a group effort to remove him of his soaked clothes. Your pants had also been soaked through, but that didn’t even phase you; not when blood stained his mouth. He slumped his body over into four pairs of arms. 

“I can take it from here.” You closed the door behind yourself. 

Just as you did, you caught Chan’s surprised and widened eyes after Minho had leaned back from his ear. “He’s the son of WHO?” 

You shimmied your own clothes off, ignoring your own shivering as you held him up. The act itself was difficult, and you had given up when it came to your undergarments. It didn’t matter much, so you left them on, along with his. All you wanted was to get the blood off of him--you couldn’t bear to see it. 

The warm water on your skin felt unreal: a blanket of warmth to dissolve away the chill that clung to your body. It was as if you were defrosting: melting away the illness, the poison, the doubt and the fear. For a moment, you let yourself think that it was that simple. 

“Y/n” 

At your feet, the water turned from clear to pink. 

“What is it?” You hushed above the sound of the shower, and Changbin rested his forehead on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why? You shouldn’t be sorry...I’m the one that should be.” 

“N-no.” He coughed, “I feel so sorry.” 

“Changbin--” 

“--Why him? Why him when he would treat y-you like shit? I-I know how he is.” 

“I-I don’t know...” 

It was a funny thing crying in the shower. It was somewhat like you weren’t crying at all with how your tears mixed with the stream. 

He sniffled, “I-I’m not mad at you. I mean...I was, but...I just don’t understand.” 

“Please, be mad at me. Be fucking furious. T-this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have lied. I shouldn’t have kept it a secret--” 

Changbin chuckled, then rose his head, lips bloodied, one eye squinted, with a smile on his face. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You’re holding me back. I didn’t have to do it this time.” 

At first, you didn’t know what it meant. But then, you realized. You had been clinging on to him for dear life: your arms completely wrapped around him, even now when he was standing on his own. 

“I thought that I gave a damn since it was him--it made me so fucking mad that it was him but...” 

“...What?” 

“Fuck me, but...I love you.” 

 You shook your head vehemently, tears crossing with the warm trickle of water.  “N-no, you don’t.”

He chuckled once more, “I think I’d know if I did or didn’t.” 

“Don’t say that.” Your chest shook. 

“Why?” 

“B-because you don’t mean it. You can’t love me.” 

“Why not?” 

His hands, bruised and pink cupped both sides of your face. 

“Someone like me...You can’t fucking love me.” 

“What? You’re not making any sense. Y/n, I think I’ve fucking loved you since the first night that I met you, and you can’t stop me from loving you. Listen, you don’t even have to love me back for now, but can you at least accept how I feel for you?” 

How was it you had been able to scream it before, but couldn’t find the words now? 

Heated steam filled up your shower, and dripped from the walls. His skin too dipped with drops of that water. You thought to yourself how the blood and the water mixed, the two colors didn’t work together at all. Why was all you could think of colors? 

“Okay?” He asked. 

Your own hands took to his soft cheeks, where you brushed away any streaks of red you could see there. 

You closed your yes after, succumbing to the feeling that the water brought you: melting, fading, dissolving, just like the way that watercolors blended from one to the other on a page. You felt Changbin press his forehead into yours. 

“I-I think that I love you too--but--I’m so scared. So fucking scared.” 

He let out a relieved “oh” then pressed his lips gently into yours. Each kiss after the other was more and more careful. He poured his whole being into your quivering lips. 

“Please don’t be scared. Don’t be scared of me. I swear that I won’t hurt you, I never want to. I mean it. Please don’t run from me.” 

Here you were, worrying that he was the one to run from you. You felt pathetic thinking how patient he had been with you, how much he had put up with, and what he had just done, all for you. 

He kissed more “pleases” into your mouth, then drew you flush against his chest. 

You held onto him tighter. “Do you mean it?” 

He nodded, then craned his neck to fill your mouth with more of his answers, and it did feel like the way that watercolors faded into one another. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Will he be okay?” 

Felix, Chan, you, and Minho sat on your couch with mugs warming your hands. In the past half hour or so, none of you had said much. 

Minho sighed. “He will be. He just needs to rest now. I’ll take him to the clinic tomorrow, see if anything is wrong. Knowing him...thick skulled asshole...” He scoffed with a smirk, “--He’s fine.” 

“T-that’s good.” Chan took a sip. “He fell asleep?” 

“Right after we got out of the shower. Lucky I stole some of Chan’s joggers back then. I put him in my bed and he was out like a light. Didn’t say that anything else hurt.” 

In unison, the four of you took another anxious sip. 

“He can stay here tonight? If that’s okay with you?” Minho asked. 

“Yeah. That’s fine. I don’t think he wants to move wither.” 

Felix looked about himself awkwardly. “Wellll I think that we should get going then. Y/n, call us if you need anything?” 

“Mmhm.” 

A silence filled the air. 

“Y/n, did you know?” Chan blurted out. 

“Me? Know what?” 

Minho shot the other man a deadly glare, then cleared his throat. “Bin’s dad is some high ranking politian. Someone so high that we’d know his name: that’s how he explained it to me. He left his whole life with them to rap. If he had gotten caught tonight, in the alley or some hospital with his real name, it would’ve been all over the news. He’s been trying his best to be invisible since high school...doesn’t want to tarnish the family reputation or something, even though they practically hate him....I don’t get it. They basically disowned him after he said he wanted to do rapping, not like he minded though. His surname isn’t even Seo.” 

“Do you know what it is? His surname?” 

“He’s never told me and I never asked.” 

Another silence fell over your group. 

“...He never told me.” You watched the steam of your tea. 

“And I didn’t tell you either, alright? This stays between us.” 

Felix mocked a zip over his lips. 

“Guess I’ll have to ask him about him about his artistic process another time then, hm?” Chan cracked his sarcasm with an airy laugh. 

“Guess so.” You tried your best to laugh back. “Thank you for tonight. All of you.” You met each boys eyes and each of them nodded in understanding. 

Felix clapped his friend’s back. “Let’s head out.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

One light was left on in your room: the strand of pink string lights that you hung over the wall your bed was against. The rest of your room was cluttered as well with clothes strewn about and your backpack contents scattered all across the floor. From your tiny and aged window, snow had accumulated in the corners, and further, the yellow and red lights of the city sparkled. Just as you were about to pull the plug for the lights, Changbin groaned out groggily. 

“Wait...what are you doing?” 

“Turning off the lights. I’m going to go to sleep too now. I wanna give you some space. I’ll go over on the couch.” 

“No!” He roused himself, “No. Don’t do that. Can you...stay in here?” 

“Sleep with you?” 

“If you want? I wouldn’t mind.” He smirked, ever cocky. Nothing took that from him. “Two bodies are warmer than one.” 

“Bin...” 

His smile really was just a bit too cute. 

“Mm. I like it when you call me that.” He reached out his arm to tempt you in. “Please? Come on.” 

You toyed with his forearm, shaking it a little like you were throwing a tantrum. “Do I have to?” 

“Hey! We just had a fuckin’ moment! I just bore my frickin’ heart for you.” 

“I’m just teasing. I will.” 

Right by his wrist, a puffy scar caught your eye, and you wondered if you had missed cleaning one of his wounds. You turned his arm over, revealing the gnarly scar: a stripe, about 3 inches long running parallel to his arm. 

“What’s this?” You studied it further. 

“Oh. That. Don’t get mad, but, tonight’s fight wasn’t my first. Some fucker with a watch or a bracelet or something tore the shit outta my arm this one time.” He inspected it himself, “It’s my battle scar. I’m kinda proud of it. If I hadn’t stepped in, who knows what he would’ve done to his girlfriend? There’s a special place in hell for guys like him.” 

Stormy grey eyes. 

Rosemary and cedarwood. 

You thought you had cried all the tears that would’ve been possible that night. Blurred memories, the ones that you had tried so desperately to forget came flooding over you. How you hadn’t known...was beyond you. 

“Hey...” Changbin scooched back up to wipe your tears. “Tears again? What’s wrong?” His thumbs wiped them away. “You can tell me?” 

“It-it was you??” 

“Me? Me what?” 

“On that night, in the alley when it was snowing, I-I was alone and he...” 

Changbin’s eyes too blew out, then his own tears gathered in the corners. “Holy shit...that was you too?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh my god.” 

Instinctually, he threw his arms around you, back into his scent that was just as clear as the real first night you had met him. Together, you both turned into babbling, sniffling messes. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Your voice shook. “I’ve always wanted to thank you. I-I can’t believe--” 

“--Come here.” 

Changbin swept you off your feet and wrapped all of his limbs around your body where he had pulled you into the bed, finally sweeping the covers over top of both your bodies with a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’ve gone though so much. Fuck, I don’t know how you’ve done it.” 

Your own hands snaked around his body. “Bin...”

“We’re kind of impossible aren’t we? All those years ago, and now...” 

“Thank you.” You kissed into his mouth, silencing him something much sweeter than your secrets. 

His body shifted, and he returned with his own kisses, each one slow and careful. He twisted his body to lean slightly over you, wincing at the pain that it caused him. 

“Fuck. That hurt.” He sighed with a tiny pout, “But, I don’t want to stop kissing you.” 

You bit a little smile into his lips. “Don’t push yourself.” 

“What? I can’t help it.” 

This time, you pushed him back to swiftly cast your legs on either side of his hips to straddle him. “This better?” 

He hummed out a happy yes, reaching down to pull your lips into his again. Like it always had been, you could’ve kissed him like this for ages, and time would slip into nothingness: a mere construct undefinable. Outside, the world was still dark and cold, but inside, the heat of your two bodies mingling banished it all away. 

“By the way, I wanted to tell you that I think that your art is beautiful.” Changbin broke momentarily, then pointed to your unframed paintings stuck to the walls with painters tape. “I’ve never seen anything like them. I don’t know why you keep them hidden here. The world should see them.” 

“Trying to get into my pants now? Who told you to say that?” 

From your string lights, his whole being was bathed in a soft pink light. 

“No one. But I mean it...you know, if I wasn’t debilitated, who knows what I would do to you right now.” 

“Woooow, you talk such big game.” 

He shot you a teasing glance. “I’ll fucking do it, fuck my probably broken-or- bruised ribs.”  

“No! Don’t do that.” You chuckled. “Don’t hurt yourself.” With a newfound confidence, you lowered your body to hover your lips over his own. “What if I go easy on you....nice and slow? Didn’t you say once that you liked to take things slow?” 

His eyes darkened as he mimicked your tone. “Anything as long as it’s with you.” After, his hands swept all the way down your back, lightly brushing up the fabric of your sleep-shirt, then to kneed into your ass. “Will you let me love you tonight?” 

“Will you let me love you back?” 

“Yes.” 

You shoved your hips down into his, grinding as purposefully as you could over his half-hard dick and shivering at the sensation over your clit. Both of your bodies trembled at the action. Under the cotton sheets and down comforter, there was nothing that could have felt cozier against the bare skin of your arms, and the way that his fingertips traced scribbles into your back. 

In seconds, he had pulled your shirt off your head, kissing little moans into your mouth once his hands had found your breasts. All the while, you kept your hips moving, reveling in the way that with each thrust of your hips you had felt yourself get wetter. He pulled and tweaked at your nipples which hardened them instantly, and you bowed down to kiss him on all the places where he didn’t know he had needed the attention: on the tip of his nose, in the corners of his mouth, over that scar on his chin, fluttering over his bruised eyelid, overtop the Band-Aid above his eyebrow, giving care to all the little scrapes on his cheeks. 

He had keened his hips upwards, now properly hardened from your friction against him. Even just like this, his length felt heavenly. With a careful prompt, he guided your torso upward, granting his mouth better access of your perky nipples which he took into his mouth greedily. Even greedier hands cascaded down your stomach to your boyshorts where he pulled at the elastic. After, he ghosted his touch over the thin fabric separating him from touching your clit. The sensation nearly sent you topping over, but rather you grabbed at the iron headboard to your bed to steady yourself. Changbin blew his words over your nipples with a cool air. 

“Can I?” 

“Do you even need to ask?” You chuckled out. 

“Of course I do.” He hooked two fingers to help you shake the fabric off your legs. “I always do.” 

First, he pulled you down into his lips; a distraction, then he coaxed his digits into your folds. You hadn’t known how embarrassingly wet you had become, but that was nothing compared to the reality of it. The sounds of your slick coating his fingers was loud enough to make you giggle, and for him to return it. 

“That excited huh?” His index finger rubbed faint circles around your clit. 

“W-what about it?” 

“I just think that its cute.” He removed his hand to show you the way that your arousal strung around his fingers. “‘So wet for me, aren’t you angel?” 

“Mmhm.” Your hips did their own helpless dance over the pads of his fingers once he had brought them back down. “S-shit.” 

A wicked smile spread over his face as he indulged in you more. Back and forth, he traced around your swollen clit, then down to your entrance, barely giving you any contact at all. 

“Remember our first night? Hmm? Remember what I did to you? ...I could do it again...” 

“B-Bin...” You gasped out his name at the thought. 

His tongue slicked over your bottom lip, “Would you like that?” His index and middle finger swept even rougher swipes over your clit which sent you mewling back on his tongue. 

“Yes? Or no? Use your words Beautiful.” 

That intense feeling, that unreal feeling...you would’ve been lying if you had said you hadn’t dreamed of it. 

“...yes. I want you to.” 

“Okay my love. Just relax. Lean on me if you have to, okay?” 

“It won’t hurt you?” 

“No. Not at all.” 

With your quivering thighs, his hand dipped back down and toyed with the heat of your folds and angrily sensitive clit. Your choked moans muffled into the crook of his neck where you had buried your face. Every single touch of his made your body feel as if it was aflame. Relentlessly, he switched from circling to stopping, every once and a while slipping a couple fingers to stretch out your entrance. He wouldn’t grant it to you fully yet, but his curved digits teased at your g-spot for only seconds at a time. 

In his ears, you filled them with “more, more, more’s” and little whimpers of “deeper, deeper, please, deeper.” 

“More? Is that what you want?” 

He winced terribly at the action, but he pushed you off from on top of him till you were flat on your back, screwing his fingers into you deeply. 

“I’ll give you as much as you want.” He kissed the words to your collarbones. 

All at once, his pace was renewed, and his fingers curved up sharply inside of your pussy to simulate your g-spot as roughly and quickly as he could. In his skill he gave your clit attention with his flattened thumb. The overwhelming feeling built in your core and inched closer second by second. Your control over your body slipped past you, and you fell completely into the feeling. 

You came with a uncontrollable shake of your whole body, and a release of pressure that made you into a moaning mess--that of which you didn’t need to be careful of if you had been too loud or not. Freely, you convulsed with that indescribable feeing, and your liquids wetted both your thighs and the fringes of the sheets which Changbin just barely removed from your body. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” 

In his adoration, the man above you proudly chuckled at your body still quivering with aftershocks. 

“Think you can take a little more after that? Take your time angel.” 

Your head spun, but it did so only for a moment. As you came down, Changbin kissed one, two, three, little kisses into your shoulder while he admired the way that your body shook. 

You nodded, laughing at the fact that you really did have no idea what time it was, nor could you even guess. 

“Do you have--” 

“--Dresser. O-over there.” A weak finger of yours pointed to your side table. 

A series of grunts slipped out of him, but he rolled himself over to take a condom from the strand and take care of it himself. He hid is tiny embarrassed smirk once he laid down. 

“Angel, I-I think that you’ll have to--” 

“--I know.” 

Back to your origional position, you aligned your entrance against his length which was still as red and hardened as ever. 

“Nice and slow right?” 

With one hand, you guided his dick into your velvet walls. 

“Oh shit.” Changbin pulled at your lip with is teeth upon the first roll of your hips. “Just like that. Just...like that.” 

It was beautiful, the way that he felt inside you. It had hurt a bit the first time, but now, it was different. The way that he filled you up was perfection: you were perfect for him, and he was for you. 

“D-don’t stop.” He pleaded while he scraped his nails down your back. 

To think, the one who had told you he didn’t say “please” was now at your mercy. It took everything you had not to let it go to your head. 

He angled his hips upward, pushing himself even deeper, and you nearly lost your composure at the feeling. Your core tightened again, and you let yourself grind over him, not stopping once. 

“F-fuck. Bin, ah! Shit--” 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Became his breathless mantra. “Y-you fuck me so good angel.”

Clambering lips came colliding and you rode out your orgasm on his dick fiercely, connecting your mouth with his so he could feel every little bit of the pleasure that he gave you. He did the same, spilling his euphoric “ah ah’s” all over your lips and eventually to your neck where he sucked carelessly upon his own orgasm. You milked every last bit of him from his throbbing erection until he shook and begged you to stop his overstimulation. 

Perhaps because you were tired, or you craved the feeling, but not a bone in your body wanted to move. 

“Can we stay like this...for a while?” 

Changbin kissed his answer back to you. 

“For as long as you like.” 

Yes, the both of you had turned to sweating messes, and the scent of sex hung heavy around the both of you. Of course, it smelled just a little like rosemary and cedarwood. Wrapped up in one another like this, there was no telling where you began and he ended. 

Until the sun peaked at the horizon, he filled you to the brim with his “I love you’s” anywhere that he could manage: into the palms of your hands, into the love bites he had painted onto your chest, onto your ears which he nibbled, and, into your sleepy eyes which had held his for as long as you could, until the allure of sleep drew both of them closed. 

[suzumenokakimono]

I was here first II

Pairing: Namjoon /  Jimin x reader

Genre: AU, smut, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, fwb, friends to lover

Summary: Jimin was your roommate, best friend and in love with you so bad it wasn’t even funny. His friends knew this all along and were surely surprised you’ve never noticed. But you didn’t. You were oblivious as the Earth was round. Now, Jimin decided it was time to finally confess to you. He asked one of his closest friends, Namjoon, to help him. But what if you end up liking Namjoon instead of Jimin?

Word count: 7k

A/N: Thank you, N.

While I was writing this, I realized what’s ‘wrong’ with my writing style but then also it hit me: not gonna change it.

Also, there is stuff going on in my head, hence the plot. * flies away *

Namjoon though.

Tagged: (as requested 💜: @ jinnfires)

Masterlist | Chapters: One | Two | Three (incoming) 

-------

That was your favorite mug.

You remembered how you got it, actually. Jimin had broken your mug. The only mug you had brought with you when you’d moved in. It was really stupid, it was not even special to you. You just never bought anything more, never needed it to, to be honest. 

Before you started to live with Jimin, your previous roommate had had a lot of stuff and she’d always let you use it. It was really convenient and you gladly took advantage of that. When she moved out, you were left with just your stuff, which was not a lot. Jimin always said you could use anything you wanted from his kitchen but it was nice to have something of your own. So when he broke your only mug, he immediately bought you a new one. He was feeling very bad about that and kept sending you tons of links to internet shops, asking what you would like. To finally make him stop crying over the whole situation, you’d picked one and you used it ever since. After those two years in this apartment, you got yourself more things, that you could call yours, but this one stayed as your favourite.

And now it was broken. You were standing in the middle of the kitchen and looking at the shattered pieces on the floor, not sure how that had happened. No. That was a lie. You knew exactly how it had happened, you just weren’t sure… how. 

The morning started pretty ordinarily. It was a weekend so both you and Jimin didn’t have work and stayed at home. He was trying to convince you to go to the cinema or something, but looking at the weather you weren’t sure it was the best idea. You just wanted to stay inside. You decided to make yourself a nice tea and finally start reading that book you’d wanted to read for so long.

Jimin’s face leaned out from behind the door frame to check what was going on. He had heard the noise and wanted to make sure you were alright. He saw you standing in the kitchen and started to think he had misheard but then he noticed the mess on the floor. He didn’t have any issues with recognizing your mug. Or what was left of it. 

“Did you just…?”.

You hadn’t even noticed him. When he spoke you turned around, surprised by his presence.

“Huh… what?”

“Did you just break the mug from me?”

For some reason he was pretty amused by this. Knowing what happened with the previous one and seeing what you did with the one he got you, was a little ironic. 

“I can’t believe you broke THE MUG!”

He chuckled to himself but then he saw your face expression and just burst into laughter. You looked so surprised and out of place, for what the reason he assumed, was your accident with the mug. He started to help you clean up, since you were barefoot and could step into some smaller pieces and hurt yourself. 

“What happened?”

“Um… sorry. I… got distracted. Shame…”

You really were sorry about that. One of the reasons you liked the mug was how you’d actually gotten it. The story was simple but there was a story and that’s what counted. You can’t say that very often about your everyday life’s items. 

You helped Jimin with cleaning, making sure nothing stayed on the floor and took out one of his mugs from the cabinet. While doing so you were holding your phone in your other hand, looking intensely on its screen. 

“So, what about the movie?”

“... movie? What movie?”

“Are you still not going?”

“No…”, you looked at your phone again. “Something came up.”

-------

When Jimin opened the door, it was around 6am. It was already getting bright outside but all he was thinking about was to sleep for the next week. He was exhausted and kind of dehydrated. Not being entirely conscious he went to the kitchen and just turned on the tap to drink some water. He twisted his head to the side and leaned over the sink. Cold, clean water ran down his throat and felt a little more alive than a few seconds ago. He promised himself, not for the first time to be honest, not to drink that much next time. Let’s face it. He was not going to quit drinking entirely. He just wanted not to feel half dead each morning after a fun, long night. That was never fun. The only plus of those situations was you, you taking care of him when he was in a state where crawling on the floor seemed like the only possible way of moving. You always complained but never denied helping him. It also gave you many possibilities of making fun of him. 

He turned off the water and dried his face with a towel. He needed a shower but was too tired to care about that. Soft bed was calling for him. While passing by your room, he saw the door not entirely closed, so he quietly stepped closer to check up on you. You were sleeping in your bed, wrapped in your comforter like a burrito and snoring quietly. Your pretty dress was on a chair and shoes discarded separately on the floor. He saw your hair pointing out and this way he was sure you were okay. Namjoon did what he was asked to. He went to his room, feeling a little heavy, remembering again what had happened in the club and how his whole plan didn’t work out at all. He knew it was his fault that he backed out and just left you. But for him, the price was too big. What ifs were killing him this whole time and he decided he would not take this risk. He needed more time.

He closed your door behind him and went to his room. He had a lot of stuff to think about. Maybe a new plan to figure out. But not this morning. The only thing he needed and also wanted to do was sleep.

-------

It had been a week since you, Jimin and Namjoon went out. None of you mentioned the night very often, if at all. When you woke up the next day, you just wanted to die quietly without any distractions and minding silence in Jimin’s room, he was already dead. You both spent that time separately, doing your own stuff, doing everything that was necessary to survive. After that, you just got back to the normal life routine. You hadn’t found out what the meaning of that night was anyway, so you didn’t pay much attention to it.

No. That was a lie. You didn’t care much about the situation with Jimin. Sure, he’d acted weird and left you for some random girl in the club, but he was your friend and apparently he’d gotten back home safe. You did care, however, about the other guy. The one you met that night.

Namjoon didn’t give you any contact information, no phone number, no messenger options. When he’d left your room, he’d just disappeared and never tried to reach out to you. He’d left you with just a memory of him, him on top of you in your bed, groaning low in your ear. This image stayed in your head rent free and didn’t want to move out anytime soon. You didn’t remember everything. You lost a little track of the events after you both left the cab. But you were definitely sure you’d held his dick at some point. That was unmistakable. 

Having this vividly in your mind, you tried to find him. The best way and probably the only way, was through Jimin. You’d started by asking him how work was, hoping he would mention his friend at some point. But he didn’t. So’d you tried to nonchalantly talk about your night out but it somehow ended up even worse. He’d changed the subject immediately, without any reason and had been avoiding it since then. You didn’t understand that, but nevertheless, you understood you wouldn’t get any information this way. Sighing heavily, you dropped it for a moment. You really liked Namjoon and wanted to see him again, but apparently you had to wait for something to happen or him to find you, because the universe was telling you to wait. So you waited.

It was Friday evening. You were looking for a movie to watch and you wanted to watch it in the living room. Jimin was writing to you the whole day how one of his annoying co-workers had a birthday and was insisting on going out later to a bar. He was nagging how he didn’t want to, but had to and was asking you for some good excuses to go back home. You liked the idea of spending the evening alone in your apartment so you refused and laughed at his response, when he realized you enjoyed his suffering. Sitting wrapped in a blanket on your living room couch, you were ready for tonight's film show, knowing very well your roommate wouldn't be home anytime soon. 

-------

Jimin was sipping his beer without any enjoyment. He was forced to come to the bar and drink, and that took all the fun from being at the bar and drinking. He thought maybe pouring all possible alcohol straight down his throat would be a good solution to survive this ‘birthday party’ but then again he promised himself not to drink that much. At least, not as much as last time. Oh fuck, last time… Just thinking about it made him anxious and he immediately took a big sip. It’d been a week and he couldn’t get over it. He didn’t talk to anyone about that, he was embarrassed and so pissed at himself. He thought maybe hiding everything deep, deep inside him would just make it go away.

Namjoon sat next to him, pushing him to the side, forcing Jimin to make more space. He also got  invited for the party, but was a little merrier than his friend. He was drinking some dark beer and looking around the crowd. One of their female colleagues tried to talk to him, he was pretty sure she was flirting, but after a few moments he found an excuse and ran away. 

“She has nice legs.”, Jimin mumbled from his glass.

“Yeah, then go and talk to her. I’ll save your spot.”

“I don’t think she likes me. I think she likes you.”

“Bummer.”

“Why are you so defensive? You’re not madly in love with your friend, like me. Or are you?”

Of course Jimin had to mention you. He was drinking and was in a bad mood from the moment they’d entered the bar. This was the first time they actually talked with each other, since your night in the club. Jimin never got back to Namjoon, like he said he would. They were avoiding one another, for their own reasons, which they kept for themselves. Namjoon was seriously scared that everything that had happened between you two was perfectly noticed and his friendship with Jimin was ruined. He really didn’t want that but at the same time, he couldn't blame Jimin. So, when he’d come to the table to finally break the ice, he wasn’t sure what he was going to find. It had surprised him that Jimin didn’t seem to be angry.

“I’m not in love with you. You’re not my type. Too much penis.” Jimin snored at that excellent joke and got back to his drink. This was a good sign.

This past week hadn’t been easy. Avoiding his friend and distracting himself with anything that’s possible just to not think about you was pretty exhausting. He was actually happy someone had come up with the idea of going out to the bar. He needed to chill.

“I fucked this up, didn’t I?”, Jimin spoke out of the blue.

“No. Because you haven’t done anything.”, Namjoon said, without even thinking. 

Jimin looked at his friend with an unspoken question, not sure what he meant. Namjoon swallowed hard. The fuck he’d just said that and started the whole conversation? He didn’t mean to say that! How the hell was this supposed to help to not think about you? This was already not going well.

“You’ve never actually tried, you know… talked to her…”, he started to sweat. 

“Yes, exactly. I fucked this up, because I have no balls to try.”

“But… why?”

“I thought… maybe…”, he started to mumble. “I should first make her jealous, you know? By picking up someone else and she… would…”

“Make… her jealous? How the hell was she supposed to be jealous if she had no idea what was going on?”

“You know… She sees me with some hot chick, thinks, oh that could have been me…”

Namjoon smelled bullshit from a distance. Jimin was too smart to actually think this kind of shitty strategy would work. Plus, that had never been his plan for that night in the first place.. 

“Oh, cut the crap!”, Namjoon lost his patience and probably shouted too loud, Jimin looked at him, surprised. “What the hell really happened that night?”

Jimin stopped sipping his beer, trying to collect his thoughts. He was torned apart. He wanted to forget about everything and at the same time, needed to say everything that was eating him alive. 

“I panicked.”, Jimin’s sight was glued to the table.

“That… I would call an understatement, at least.

“Remember when we were talking and… we started to look back on the day we met… She mentioned how I was drunk and falling from my chair… She turned to you…”

Namjoon froze in place. This was it. Jimin was about to say how him, his friend, stole the girl of his dreams. There was no turning back. 

“She was talking about me like the biggest dork. She was laughing, not taking me seriously…”

Namjoon took a deep breath and wasn’t sure he understood. His mind was completely lost in connecting the dots. 

“She’s seeing me as her friend. I was trying to be with her that night, like with the other girls, you know? I was flirting and touching her, she didn’t care at all. We both were drinking and yet… it wasn’t enough. That’s why I ran away.”

Jimin got back to sipping his drink, not looking at Namjoon. And if he had, he would’ve seen an absolutely blank page. Namjoon felt like his brain got a reset and he was sitting with a blue screen displayed for everyone watching. He never doubted that what he did back in the club was wrong, however he was certain Jimin had seen it and was about to kill him. Not noticing how he had been drooling all over you was pretty impossible. And yet, here he was, safe and sound. He narrowed his eyes in that moment, finally connecting the dots. You both were pretty dumb and blind when it came to feelings and reading someone else’s emotions. 

“So… you got scared because she was laughing at something you did three years ago?”

“It sounds stupid, I know. But I felt really weird. Like, me doing that is all she can see. Like, that night defined me in her eyes. She sees me as a dork… nothing serious…”

“You’re not a dork.”, Namjoon sighed heavily. This conversation was pretty weird and was making him nervous. However, what made him slightly relaxed was that, one problem was already solved: Jimin was absolutely oblivious about that night.  

“I know I am. And she knows I am.”

“Maybe she likes dorks?”, why the fuck did he say that?!

“I actually don’t know what her type is.”

I’m her type.

“Did she date anyone, after moving in with you?”

“I’m not sure… I think there was a guy or two… nothing really serious.”

“You’ve never talked about this? Never gossiped about your lovelife?”

“We did, but she was always more curious about mine, since I did bring some girls a few times. She was always asking why a handsome guy like me doesn’t have a girlfriend”, Jimin smiled to himself after a word handsome. He liked when you called him that. 

“She thinks you’re handsome.”

“And she doesn’t like me.”

But she likes me. 

Namjoon mentally slapped himself for that. 

“What about the other girl?”, he desperately wanted to change the subject. 

Talking about you, in a perspective of you liking Jimin or not, was killing him. You were on his mind all the time anyway, since you’d met. And he had to hide that. He started to have problems with being a good friend and supporting Jimin with his crush and his efforts to win you over. 

“What girl?”

“The one you were making out when you left us. Y/A saw the two of you at the bar.”

“There’s not much to talk about.”, Jimin looked flustered. He turned his head away.

“Why? Did you go with her and something went wrong?”

“No… it’s….”

“Did she laugh at you? You couldn’t do it? You were too drunk? You fell asleep in the middle?”

“Are you having fun?”

“Yes, yes I am!”

Jimin looked at Namjoon, waiting for another assumption about his night. But none of them came, he stopped making stuff up after seeing his friend's expression.

“It’s nothing like that. I didn’t go with her.”, Jimin sighed.

“I’m a little confused now. You ditched Y/A for some random chick and then you just… came home?”

“No. I… “

“What? What the fuck happened?”

“I went to the internet caffe and played Overwatch.”

Namjoon snorted so much his beer came right through his nose. However, he admitted it was worth it. He would have never expected Jimin to say something like that. 

“I’m sorry, you did what?”

“Ugh… Yes, we made out a little but I wasn’t in the mood. I was thinking about Y/A the whole time and it… it just didn’t feel right.”

“You were thinking about Y/N while making out with another girl?”

“I forgot how big of a dipshit you can be, you know?”

You have no idea. 

-------

The doorbell woke you up from the deepest moment of your dream. When you lifted your head you weren’t sure where you were, what was going on or who you were. You needed a moment to recover and another ring to finally get up. Blindly you reached out to your nightstand and grabbed your phone.

2:05 am. Who the fuck was that?

You had gone to sleep some time ago, knowing Jimin had his own keys and he would help himself with opening the door. You were not expecting anyone, especially at this time, so while still being a little asleep you were very hesitant to open the door. You looked through the visor on the door but it was too dark to determine anything. But there was someone there, for sure.

Another ring made you jump in place. Someone was really stubborn and didn’t want to let this go. So, hoping nobody doing this kind of noise would try to kill you, you slowly turned the locks and looked at what was waiting for you in the corridor. 

First you saw Namjoon. He was standing right in front of the door, basically leaning into it. He barely looked at you because all his attention was on another person hanging on his shoulder. And that person was Jimin. 

You looked first at Namjoon, then at your roommate, then again at his friend. Many questions were growing inside your head, you were fully awake at this point. 

“What…?”

You tried to articulate one of them, but it died before it left your mouth. Was Jimin unconscious? You just pointed at him, which was worth a thousand words. 

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t find his keys. He said they’re in his pocket but… I’m not gonna…

He moved a step forward, trying to get to the apartment, without bumping into you. You shook your head, realizing you were blocking his way. You moved away to make the corridor clear but Namjoon didn’t go any further.

“Can you… help me?”

You immediately got to the other side of Jimin and put his arm on your shoulder. You felt his weight on you and a second after that you smelled all the alcohol he drank at the bar. He was indeed unconscious. His body felt like a ragdoll, it was really hard to get him into his room, but both of you somehow managed to. His feet were dragging along on the floor while you pulled him through the corridor. You threw him on his bed, which was a little too rough, but he didn’t react in any way. 

“I think this time he might be dead.”, Namjoon was standing next to you.

“Possibly.”

You sighed heavily. You knew what was coming so you jumped out to the bathroom and brought a big plastic bowl. You put it next to Jimin’s bed, just in case he woke up and decided he didn’t like all the alcohol he had in his body. And food. And his insides. You assumed him waking up would be a very dramatic moment. 

“That’s clever. I don’t think he’ll aim for that anyway, but at least we tried.”, Namjoon didn’t fool himself. If Jimin woke up, he would be half dead and puking into the bowl would be the last thing on his list.

You both left the room. You were trying to act quietly, even though there was no such force that could have woken up Jimin in this state. You closed the door behind you and looked at Namjoon. Before, you smelled alcohol because of your friend. He drank like there was no tomorrow, for sure. But Joon did not say no to drinks as well. He was not as drunk as your roommate but he was swaying in place, not able to focus his sight on you.

“Are you feeling ok?”

“I’m fine… I just need to lay down…”, he was a little embarrassed and wanted to go home and sleep.

“Do you want some tea?”, you asked, already being on your way to the kitchen. On your way you brushed your hand on his arm, trying to pretend that was an accident, didn’t mean much.

Namjoon didn’t say anything. He just watched you going, focusing on how you were swaying your hips,  followed you and after a few seconds.

“Tea sounds perfect.”

He was watching while you were jumping around and making him and yourself a tea. Yet again he saw you in a different light than before. When he stood still, holding the door frame for support, he focused on the way you looked. He remembered you in your pretty dress and makeup. Well, also without a dress. But this time you were just in your pajama shorts and a simple loose T-shirt. Your hair was tied up on top of your head and you were definitely not wearing any makeup. Even though his vision was not the best at that time, he decided you looked very pretty with a bare face. 

When the tea was ready, you grabbed both mugs by their handles and just took them to the living room, giving him an unspoken direction to do the same. Namjoon followed you again and you both sat on the couch. He felt much better sitting, it made him feel more sure he wouldn’t fall down. Or at least from his seat, there was a much shorter trip to the floor. 

“Party was that good?”, you asked. 

“Afterparty, maybe.”

“After-what? Why did you need that?” “It was Jimin’s idea. He… didn’t have much fun at the birthday party, so we went somewhere else just to… well, drink. We didn’t plan to stay long… and that part of the plan worked out.”

Namjoon seemed a little tired. He leaned his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. Was he falling asleep? You took that opportunity and looked at him. He wasn’t wearing his beanie this time. His natural dark hair was short and dyed to a blonde color, shaved at the bottom and slightly underneath into a nice undercut. It really suited him and you were fighting with the urge to brush your fingers through his hair. You imagined how it would feel under your fingertips. Probably very soft. His grey hoodie was a little loose on his body, you’d noticed he liked a little baggier clothes. He’d matched it with light jeans and red converse. 

Somehow, you missed him and wanted him to stay. Even just to talk with you. You were pinching yourself to start a conversation, any conversation, you didn’t want him to leave.

“You know, after that fun night in the club you disappeared… I haven’t heard from you… ”

Namjoon opened his eyes and looked at you. It definitely helped him wake up.

“I…”, he wasn’t sure what to say. 

He had been avoiding you. Not that you’d had many occasions to actually meet. But he was trying to forget about a pretty girl that he really liked but very well knew, his friend was in love with. He had to remind himself of that all the time. The whole evening with Jimin was not helping at all. Getting in touch with you, after all that had happened the night you met was a very bad idea.

“I didn’t want to bother you. We’ve barely met and I thought that… we’re not that close, so it doesn’t matter.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’re not friends… we don’t have to hang out… you know... “, he had no idea what he was talking about. 

“We’re not but you’re Jimin’s friend. You can’t run away from him.”

“I didn’t run away from you.”

“But you did avoid me?”

“Yes. NO!”, his brain was malfunctioning. He pulled himself up, grabbed his tea and took a sip. It burned his tongue a little but was a great distraction. 

“You don’t like me?”

“NO!”, he almost jumped in his place and spilled his tea on his legs. “What? Of course not! I do!”

You laughed at his reaction. 

“I like you too.”

You smiled at him, blushing a little. You took your mug from the coffee table to distract yourself from the embarrassment that was attacking you. He didn’t miss that. He was still a little buzzed but you talking to him was keeping him awake. He was watching you intensely, trying to remember how you’d looked that night. He put his mug away, to avoid spilling tea anywhere and leaned his head back on the couch sliding down a little in his seat. He wasn’t sure if he was getting sleepy again or whether your presence was affecting him this way. Whatever it was, a nice warm feeling spread through his body after your small confession. He smiled back at you, which made you even more flustered and you almost hid your face in your mug.

“Ah… you know… after all that happened, I was pretty sure you actually don’t want to see me.”

“But, why? Did I do something stupid? Did I… fall asleep while we were…?”

“No, we didn’t do anything! When I put you into bed you were already sleeping.”

“I actually wanted to ask, did I fall asleep while we were kissing.”, you giggled. You remembered Namjoon left before anything happened.

“Oh, then, my answer would be yes!”, he smiled with his cute smile, showing his dimples. A shy blush also showed up on his cheeks. 

“Huh, I think I drank a little too much.”

“That’s fine. It’s not like I was sober. I was there too.” 

“Yes… yes, you were.”, you looked into his eyes. “I was drunk, half naked and you rolled me into my comforter and left.”

Namjoon’s breath hitched for a second. Your straightforward statement made him remember how that had actually happened, that everything he had in his head really took place. 

You on the bed, him on top of you. He tried to get up, you held him. He was trying to leave, you took off your dress. Later he was trying to convince himself that it didn’t happen, he didn’t see you naked waist up, that his hard dick wasn’t… 

“... yeah, you took that dress off…”, he drifted off for a moment, looking in your direction, but not at you. Images were flashing right in front of his eyes.

Then he heard you laughing. 

“I did take my dress off”, you hid your face in your hands. Your expression changed in one second, again.

Namjoon snorted right after you. Talking about this was making him a little nervous. He felt his hands starting to sweat. You were sitting close to him, with your legs on the couch, one arm spread behind his head. Your shorts riled up your thighs showing even more skin. Loose T-shirt hanging on your shoulder, making your collarbone very much visible. 

You put your mug back to the table and moved closer to him. 

“We were both drunk, but I do remember most of it.”, you knew you were blushing, but didn’t want that to stop you.

“... I… maybe half of it.” he lied. He remembered everything.

“I can’t stop thinking about what if…”

He swallowed hard. He looked at your lips. Your hand behind his head found his hair and  played with it nonchalantly. He was pretending he didn’t notice. You scratched your neck with your other hand and glued his sight to your skin. He remembered everything.

“What if what?”

“What if we slept together? It’s not like we’re in relationships, so we wouldn't be doing anything wrong… right?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend…”, he shook his head a little to emphasize this. 

“Me neither. Or a boyfriend.”, you smiled.

You were getting closer and closer. He felt a hint of a fruit scent. Was that your shampoo? Your finger touched his neck. Very lightly, but a shiver went down his spine. Your touch was hot on his skin and he immediately started to want more.

Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.

You took your hand away, like you realised what you were doing and that was way too far and too fast. For a second you panicked, a train of thoughts was attacking you and you felt like you were the only one that was trying to do something there. Like you were the only one who felt the spark and wanted to use it. Like he didn’t want you anymore.

He raised his head a little, he looked straight into your eyes, his mouth was slightly open.

You were wrong. You were so fucking wrong.

You leaned into him and you kissed him without another word. He didn’t oppose at all. After all, if you hadn't, he would have done that himself. He cupped your face and pulled you closer. One of his hands wandered to your neck. He also felt yours on his, it went straight back to its place where it had been before. He tasted like beer and tea at the same time. You felt the alcohol in his breath but didn’t care much. You took his lower lip between yours and sucked. You felt him smiling, he liked that.

One of his hands grabbed your T-shirt and pulled you closer to him. It made you lose your balance and you put your hand on his chest for support. He didn’t stop though. He was trying to get you as close as possible. 

Without thinking much, you straddled his lap, putting one leg on each side of his hips. His hands were immediately on your bare thighs. Kneading the flesh he moved them up, right on your ass. Grabbing you shorts, he pulled them right up, putting both of your ass cheeks on display. Holding them, made you move closer and spread your legs wider. You sat right up above his crotch, feeling his hardening dick under your thigh. 

Grabbing his hoodie and by pulling it up you urged him to raise his hands, to take it off. He was wearing a simple white T-shirt beneath it. Tight enough to show his slim body and wide shoulders. He didn’t give you much time to appreciate it. Both of his hands were on your neck and pulled you back to him. He was kissing you like crazy, with his tongue exploring your mouth, not giving you any moment to take a breath. One of his hands slid down your shoulder and was going down, until he found the hem of your T-shirt. You felt his fingers on your stomach, shyly first. He was tasting the waters, making sure you were ok with that. Shortly after his whole hand was holding you around your ribcage with his both hands. Circling his thumbs under your breasts, he was slowly moving them up after he found your nipples. 

“I want to see them again.”, his voice was so low, you barely recognized it. 

You whispered a soft “OK” to him and he moved his hands up. T-shirt hooked on his wrist moved up with them. He put it through your head and hooked it on your neck. He didn’t have to do more. He got what he wanted. When he was undressing you, you lifted your hips up and he made you stay that way. Your breasts were right in front of his face and without hesitation he attached his lips to one of them. He licked your nipple, making his tongue flat he slid it up and down, making you moan. He looked up to you, wanting to see your facial expression, wanting to see how much you enjoyed that. He pinched your second nipple which made you whine even louder and his cock even harder. He remembered those sounds, now even more vivid to him, when he wasn’t that drunk. 

While still working your breast with his mouth, his hand moved down, across your thigh, slowly getting closer to your center. THe loose hem of the leg of your shorts gave him easy access to you. His fingers found your core, still covered with your cotton panties, circling it, trying to get inside. Moving them to the side he finally felt how wet you were. 

“Oh fuck… baby, is this all for me?”

You felt a heat rushing through your body. His words made you flustered for some reason, like saying it made it even more real and undeniable. You didn’t know what to say so you blindly shifted your hand to his crotch and found his cock. You started to palm him through his pants, which made him groan. You felt his hot breath and tongue on your skin. But it wasn’t enough. His fingers found your clit and started to slowly move up and down. You made a noise which gave him the perfect confirmation he was doing a good job. Without any further delay you unzipped him and shoved your hand into his pants. He was already hard and precum was gathering on his tip. He slowed his movements when he felt your hand on him, a little unsure what your next move was. You slid his pants and boxer shorts down and freed him. His hard dick slapped into his stomach and you immediately grabbed it and started to pump him. Your hand was sliding on his soft skin, smearing the precum all over him. He started to breathe loud and move his hand on you again. 

You were so wet, you felt it on your thighs. He was touching your clit, sometimes circling it, something sliding up down, left and right. One of his fingers slid inside of you, feeling no resistance. After that the second one joined him, making you stretch a little. You barely felt it. When he started to move them in and out of you, your hips joined them, copying his pace. You didn’t forget about this cock in your hand. He bucked up into your fist when you sped up. He wasn’t able to focus on your nipples anymore. His face landed between your breast, his hot breath made a drop of sweat gather right there. He was whispering sweet nothings to you, you didn’t even understand them. 

You were already chasing your orgasm. The very well known feeling started to build in your stomach and you were desperate to feel it. His fingers were doing wonders on you, circling your clit in a steady pace. You moved your hips closer but his other hand grabbed your hip and held you. You leaned towards him, hid your face in his neck, kissing and sucking the skin. You were focusing on the pleasure he was giving you but still wanted to return the favour. You speed up the pace of your own hand, squeezing his dick hard and making him moan right into your ear. He was getting close like you. You focused on the tip, circling with your thumb on his slit, wanting to make him cum. He was starting to breath faster and louder, squeezing your hip, digging his fingers into your flesh.

Then you heard it. A loud noise, which snapped you from your bliss and made your high disappear in a blink of an eye. He’d heard it too. His hand between your legs froze, but still stayed in place. 

“Was that… from Jimin’s room?”, you asked, completely confused. 

Sweat on Namjoon’s face ran down his cheek and ended up on this neck. He was as confused as you were. He’d heard it too and had no idea what that was.

“I-I need to check that.”

When you moved to leave his lap, he whined and grabbed your hand. He didn’t want to stop, he was so close. His own hand was still in your panties, fingers wet with your arousal ready to get back to work and get you off. You were so tempted to go for it, ignore the noise and forget about everything. But you heard it again. This time you were certain it was from Jimin’s room. He probably woke up. 

You had no other choice but to leave Namjoon’s hard dick alone and stand up. He didn’t like that idea but he finally let you go. His hand left your center and went straight to his mouth. He put his fingers inside and sucked them clean, while looking into your eyes the whole time. This time you whined loudly and cursed Jimin for this.

When you were on your legs again, you put your T-shirt down and went to your roommate’s room. Before you opened the door, you felt Namjoon behind you, his hand landed on your shoulders. You both got inside and discovered Jimin was nowhere to be found. His bed was empty, 

“... da fuck…”

And for some reason, Jimin’s pants were on the floor. You had no memory of undressing him, or Namjoon doing that. Did he wake up and take them off? What for? And how? You both were shocked, until you went around the bed and found him on the floor. He was laying on his stomach, with one hand twisted in a very uncomfortable angle, wearing his T-shirt and boxer shorts. The plastic bowl you left for him was pushed away, but still empty. 

You kneeled next to him, checking if he was okay. He was still breathing, but he left unconscious. Namjoon came to you and helped you to put him on his bed again. You rolled him on his back and covered him with a comforter. He was safe again, although you were really puzzled about what had just happened. You were pretty sure Jimin would not remember this, he was way too drunk, so there was no chance you’d find out anyway. You sighed, put the bowl back to its place and left the room, with Namjoon following you. 

When both of you were outside, you quietly closed the door yet again. You felt Namjoon’s hand on you, how he grabbed you by your shoulder and turned you around to him. Your back hit the wall and his body was pressed into yours immediately, pushing air from your lunges. He grabbed your breast and squeezed it, pushing you even harder into the wall. His kiss was long and passionate but when he detached his lips he just stayed like that, looking at you through his lashes.

‘Why the hell do you have to be such a good kisser?”, he whispered into your lips. 

You felt his boner on your stomach and reached out to touch him again. But he moved away. He kissed you one last time and took a step back. Still looking at you, took a deep breath and turned to the living room. Your mind was still hazy with the intense make out, so you didn’t follow him on the spot. But when you did, he wasn’t sitting on the couch but standing in front of the coffee table. He took his tea and started to drink. In one take, he finished it and put the empty mug back. After that he took his hoodie, walked past you, opened the door and left.

It was the second time he was leaving you like this. 

------

“What came up?”, Jimin put a bag of tea in your mug and poured boiling water. You both smelled the scent of green tea. “I thought you’re free today.“

“I am. I-I just don’t want to leave the house tonight.”

“It’s barely noon. You can still change your mind.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You started to rummage through another cabinet, looking for some cookies. But you couldn’t stop looking at your phone’s screen. Jimin was watching you and noticed how much you were distracted. No wonder you'd broken THE MUG.

“Why are you staring at your phone like that?”

Automatically you did it again. Unread messages’ thumbnails looked at you, asking why you hesitate to read their whole content. 

With a loud crash you closed the cabinet, took your phone and headed to your room.

“I’m going to my room. I need to take care of this.”

Without any more explanation, you took your tea, left the kitchen and locked yourself in your room. When left alone, you took a deep breath and finally unlocked your phone. 

Messages on your phone manifested in front of you and at the point you were certain you read them correctly at the first time.

Unknown [12:36]: You know, I’ve been thinking… We should drink some tea together again

Unknown [12:36]: I’d love to see what next is gonna happen with us in one room

Unknown [12:40]: It’s Namjoon btw

雀

[poodlejoonas]

Dad AU - new update!

It’s been a minute since I posted here about the AU! So, recently I’ve gotten a lot of energy to write again and I’ll have a little bit of time soon to do so. I also realized I hit a predicament: I have a lot of ideas based on memes and Tik Toks that I feel like I can write, but I don’t have the coding skills to include them on AO3 (although I’ve tried, but if anyone can give me tips on how to get better at that, hit me up). They would also be way too short to try to make as stand-alone one-shots on AO3. My solution:

I’m gonna start writing Tumblr-exclusive blurbs (350-500 words) so I can include the meme as the visual! I have ideas saved, but I’d also be down for taking the occasional request/submission. I’m still thinking of a tag specific to blurbs, but I’ll figure it out eventually. 

I’ll still be doing the bigger parts on AO3 (and I may migrate these blurbs over into one big collection) but this is just a side addition for whenever I want to write but I don’t have the energy to dedicate to the actual plot line.

I’m down for taking submissions whenever you have them!

[jiaraforeverr]

Friends to Lovers in Canon Universe

I'll be the light and lead you home (when there's nowhere left to go) by @homebody-nobody and @hmspogue

“Hi, Dad,” he says, his heart pounding, his veins already humming with fight-or-flight adrenaline. He can feel his brain kicking into overdrive as his body is tensing to prepare for whatever comes next. Keep your voice down, his mind reiterates, reciting rules that governed years of his childhood, learned the hard way and necessary for his safety -- for survival. Stay an arms length away, nod and agree, don’t tell him no, respond with “yes sir”, keep your voice down for as long as possible, and get out before the yelling starts at all costs… But, now, in the midst of this frantic inventory, a new rule makes its way into his consciousness. Stay between him and Kiara.

baby, it’s halloween (we can be anything)

JJ tags along with Kie as she goes costume shopping but she leaves the store with much more than she bargained for.

The Haunting of Crowley Manor

After spending the night with JJ, going to Sarah's Halloween party at an abandoned, and allegedly haunted, Kook mansion is not high on Kiara's list of things she wants to be doing. When the Pogues do some exploring, what they find is unsettling at best. Even amidst all the pandemonium, Kiara would really just like to clear the air.

you wanna play with fire (stick and poke tattoo) by @homebody-nobody

'JJ chews on the information she’s given him, tracing his fingers down her arm, over the curve of her elbow and back up to her shoulder. “You’re still gonna go home, right?” He asks, uncertainty and maybe longing in his voice. She realizes, then, that of course she is. Her parents love her, even if they don’t know how to show it, don't understand what the Cut and its inhabitants (and one in particular) mean to her. Of course, she’s going to go home. Because JJ doesn’t get to. Because she still can.

touch me someone by @homebody-nobody

He pulls away from her, and his eyes are wide but dry as his chest heaves. He looks wild, uncaged and raw, the moonlight turning his blond hair white and his blue eyes into pools of silver. Tragedy and shock have destroyed him, the chains he’d wrapped around his brash, heedless, unending want twisted into shards by an explosion of hurt and grief. He has always been the victim, the boy left behind in empty rooms with nothing but loss and bloody fragments, told to piece himself back together. Finally, they’ve taken the last thing. When he told John B they had nothing to lose, they still had each other. And now, he doesn’t even have that. But she’s still here.

A Midsummers Night's Scheme

Kiara really doesn't want to go to Midsummers, and this time it isn't just about the socioeconomics of it all. When she runs into someone she was hoping never to see again, she enlists the help of JJ, who might already be more involved than she would've ever thought.

georgia (georgia, i love your son) by @jiaaras

Two years after Sarah and John B died (or disappeared, if you asked JJ), Kiara and JJ must deal with the return of a familiar face to the Outer Banks.

it was there the whole time

The rest of the pogues notice that JJ and Kiara are hopelessly in love with each other long before they do themselves.

because i'm still in love with you (i wanna see you dance again.)

post season one; John B and Sarah are gone, Pope is M.I.A and Kiara just wants to help JJ stop drinking so much.

lets go surfing by @simpforjiara

everything good happens in the surf

and even when you look away i know you think of me by @hvitstark

The night of graduation Kie worries about the future.

Her Boys *trigger warning character drugged against their will*

Some guy tries to drug Kiara during a kegger at the Boneyard, and her boys ride to the rescue, and then take her home and take beautiful care of her…which leads to a very unique first Jiara kiss.

five times JJ or Kie kissed the other as friends + 1 time they were definitely not friends by @simpforjiara

don't blame me for fallin' (i was just a little boy) by @simpforjiara

JJ Maybank could never just simply care about something, when it came to Kiara it was always too much

Home is Where the Puppy Lives by @tiggerusername

Four months after John B and Sarah disappear, everything in Outer Banks is strange. JJ and Kiara are hardly talking. Pope is hardly around. And storms keep coming. That is until Kiara decides to visit the chateau after work one day and finds a puppy stuck in the destruction of the night outside.

Snapshots Through Time

Just as the title implies, jumps in time depicting moments in JJ and Kiara’s lives. First as friends, then as a couple, and eventually as a family.

Don't overthink it

For the majority of the time she was not even sure she liked JJ as a person.

i don’t wanna be your friend (i wanna kiss your lips)

If she’s being honest, Kiara used to think about kissing JJ all the time. aka the five times kiara thinks about kissing jj, and the one time she finally does it.

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

JJ and Kiara grow closer in the aftermath of what should have been the best summer of their lives.

One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)

After spending a night with Pope, Kie runs to the person she was meant to be with in the first place.

it wasn’t special til i met you by @dayas

kiara never expects teaching jj to braid to matter so much. it does. or, alternatively, the four times kiara lets jj braid her hair and the one time she doesn’t.

every piece of you

Five places that Kie hadn’t expected to be intimate when kissed and one place she does.

if we were meant to be, we would've been by now by @alphinias

five times JJ was jealous, and one time he didn't have to be

and if my wishes came true (it would’ve been you)

the one where jj and kiara go on a road trip together and do a miserable job of pretending they’re not two idiots in love

tell me when you’re falling (can you hear me calling?)

being in love with your best friend makes vacationing pretty inconvenient. luckily for kiara, said best friend will never suspect a thing.

bare necessities by @rae-of-fricking-sunshine

the five times they were unintentionally undressed, and the one time they weren't

better date than never by @alphinias

Kiara is sick of her mom badgering her about the single groomsmen at her cousin's wedding, so obviously, taking JJ as her date is the perfect solution. It won't be complicated. Not at all.

i had a few (got drunk on you)

Kiara is a student at bartender school and JJ is helping her practice (when he isn’t hindering her by drinking all the liquor).

i'll be there 'til the stars don't shine by @maybankiara

in which the pogues throw a kegger, and jj keeps getting distracted by the feelings he might have for one of his closest friends.

What if... (Secrets are dug in the best friends' back yard?) by @tiggerusername

What if JJ and Kiara have been keeping a massive secret from the Pogues? What if JJ and Kiara were a lot closer than anyone had expected during Kiara's Kook year?

Standing On Younger Ground by @usnavisbubbly

If he really thinks about it, he knows it probably just took missing her for an entire year for him to realize that he never wanted to again. Miss her, that is. That shit was brutal. She’s his best friend and he wants her around all the time. It’s just that now, he sometimes wishes it was just them. Like, he’d never want John B and Pope to go away, per se, he just also wants Kie to himself? Or something? It’s confusing.

Bad Timing

the one where the Pogues all had a thing for Kie, all get rejected and JJ eventually finds the right time.

wish you were sober

The Pogues are growing up and following their dreams, which means it's time for JJ and Kiara to sort through some feelings.

around the world

You can take the boy out of the Outer Banks, but you can't take the Outer Banks out of the boy. when it's all calmed down, kiara travels the world. jj's not precisely an unwelcome addition.

drunk off of nothing but of each other until the sunrise (i swear to god it was the best night of my life)

The night before Kie leaves for collage JJ finally makes a move. It's the start and end of something all at once.

friends don’t look at friends that way

anyone observant can see that JJ and Kiara are clearly more than friends.

You Can Get Lost in the Music For Hours, Honey by @anniebibananie

A love story told (predominately) through text messages and a collaborative spotify playlist.

Come Down to the Black Sea Swimming with Me

JJ and Kiara try to deal with the aftermath of John B and Sarah's deaths, and find it easier together.

if this is love, i know it’s true (i won’t forget you)

kiara carrera doesn’t know when she falls in love with jj maybank. she just knows that she does, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

i want to see you stare at ceilings until you fall back asleep

jj and kie have a moment.

(au mid-season before any of that insane police chase stuff went down)

[ladybugsfanfics]

The Case of the Blue Sweater | Tom Hiddleston

Pairing: Mob!Tom Hiddleston x cop!reader

Style: one shot

WC: 10.7k 

Warnings: crime, alcohol, drinking, implied sexual content (very much so), uhh, theres no blood, also NB: THIS STORY IS INCOMPLETE AND I WONT BE THE ONE TO FINISH IT! (story is also unedited to please dont hate me for any mistakes)

Summary:  Hey so I read your Mob!Tom x reader and it got me thinking.. Could you write a Fic where Tom is in the mob but the reader is a cop? And like they’re secretly dating but technically the reader has to make it look like they’re hunting him down but they really aren’t? (If that makes sense) Idk I feel like I just need this in my life rn 😂😂

A/N: i got this ask back in january i think and i jumped on it right away, but at some point tumblr deleted it so i cant tag who asked (and i know this wasnt anonymous bc i remember but i never put it in the doc annoyingly). anyways, i started writing it, got to 10k words and lost motivation and never finished it. i really like the AU but nothing ever really happened.... im so sorry.  I hope you enjoy what i have ^_^

A loud ringing paired with the loudest on and off buzzing from your phone vibrating on the nightstand is what pulls you out of your slumber. The sounds screech in your ears and you reach over to stop it, to just slide the button over so that your ears can stop bleeding. However, as you lean out of the arms wrapped around you, their grip strengthens and you’re dragged back into the chest of the man sharing your bed. 

“Tom,” you say. A smile plays on your lips, the set of events not unusual for an early morning.

He nuzzles into your hair, places a wet kiss at the base of your neck. “Five minutes,” he mumbles into your skin. 

You shake your head slightly, as much as you can with the limited space. “Can I at least turn the sound off?” 

His grip slackens, making you able to reach the little way over to turn off the blaring alarm. The silence that comes with is welcome in every way, but the relief isn’t long-lasting when Tom drags you back into his chest, his nose quickly nuzzling back to where it was. 

Two seconds is what it takes before he’s pressing kisses to your neck. Rough, slender fingers graze up the side of your body until they reach your neck, where they brush away your hair. With Tom’s easy access, the soft kisses slowly turn into something more, something rougher, and the use of his tongue causes a slight tickle to trail through your body. 

“Tom.” You shift a little where you lay, taking away his access as you turn your head. In the shift, the man easily moves to trail kisses up your jaw, and as you whisper his name again, his lips connect with yours. 

It’s a hungry kiss. He sucks at your bottom lip and his hand grabs your jaw, holding your head in place. You lean into him, kissing him back with equal fervor, however, you’re quickly dragged out of the bliss, when your phone goes off again. 

There is no mistaking the death glare Tom sends the mini-computer. You chuckle slightly and push him off you to reach it. This time, it’s not an alarm, but a phone call. 

Your boss’s call ID lights up the screen, and you give Tom a stern look as you press to accept the call. With the phone to your ear, Tom shrugs and moves under the covers. His hands trail down your body, teasing you as his fingers trace up your inner thighs. 

“Y/L/N,” you say. 

A grunt is heard from the other side first, then, “I need you to come in ASAP.” Your boss’s voice sounds urgent, desperate. 

You check the clock. “I’m not supposed to come in in another hour,” you reply. “Is it that important?” 

“Yeah, wouldn’t have called you otherwise.” It’s like you can hear him nod and roll his eyes at the same time. “We got a lead in the case.”

“What kind of lead? And which case?”

As your boss answers, you can feel Tom’s tongue on the inside of your thigh. In surprise at the feeling you barely manage to suppress the squeal that works up in your throat, and you miss your boss’s reply. (You don’t miss Tom’s smug laugh from under the duvet, nor how he continues to work his way closer to your clit.)

“Y/L/N?” comes from the other end of the line when you gain back… well, really some of your dignity, but mostly your mind. 

“I’m here, sir.” You sigh. “Just something that happened that caught my attention. Cat nearly knocked down something made of glass.” 

(You don’t have a cat, why was that the first excuse you could come up with? Your boss doesn’t know that, though, so it’s safe.)

“Didn’t know you had a cat, but that could happen to the best of us.” Your boss clears his throat. “The lead’s pretty good, but can’t say it over the phone so you gotta come in. It’s on the case about the Blue Sweater.” 

You roll your eyes at the nickname of the case. One of the major criminals you were trying to take down is often seen wearing blue sweaters, and at a briefing you’d offered it as a code name; who knows who listens in on phone calls―they do seem to have a knack for being one step ahead of you, too. 

But you don’t mention that to your boss. “Alright, sir, I’ll be on my way as fast as I can.” 

“Make it less than half an hour and we’re good.” 

“No problem, sir.” 

Your boss is the one to hang up, and as you throw your phone down on the bed, Tom peeks his head up from under the covers. You send him a glare. “You should be happy you didn’t get started whilst I was on the phone.” 

Your boyfriend smirks up at you. “Oh, you wouldn’t have liked that?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t like it.” 

Tom shrugs. “You got time, right?” Though before you can answer he slides back under the cover, uses his hands to steady your hips and dips his head low. God, if only you had more time. 

--

The moment the elevator door opens and you step out into the crowded office space of the police station, you hear your name being called. You wish you weren’t the head detective on the, currently, biggest case pertaining to crime bosses. Just once you wish you could come to work and not have at least five people at a time want to ask you a question or pepper you with information you already have. 

You kind of wish you weren’t the head detective for another reason, too, but that’s a minor detail. Actually, that might be the reason you need to be the head detective; way easier to steer an investigation when you’re leading it. 

Nonetheless, you have no choice in which cases you lead or not. And that’s usually the reason why there’s three people cluttering your desk as you sit down. You’re not entirely sure that’s the reason today. 

You plop down in your chair and stare up at the talking men in front of you. The three of them notice you quickly (after all, it was them that yelled your name) and the chatter dies out. 

“I’m here half an hour early and I would love to know what made me skip my morning shower.” (It would have been morning shower sex, and you are a little very annoyed that you had to skip it.)

Your boss coughs, gaining your attention. “Briefing room. Five minutes.” The man looks slightly uncomfortable, but that’s not a big surprise. You’ve been told many times that you have that kind of face that makes people squirm; just something about you is, apparently, intimidating. 

“Okay.” 

And he walks away. 

“You two doing at my desk then?” you ask your coworkers. The two men are your right and left hand in most cases, but this one especially. You wouldn’t even be half the way you are now if you didn’t have them. (Though how much that says, you’re not sure, because you really have nothing.)

“Well…,” starts Mackie. His hand goes up to scratch his neck. “...really we just naturally gravitate here.”

You squint at him, and divert your gaze to Evans (who you know is a shitty liar). Even though you’re not opening your mouth to say anything and he isn’t looking at you, you can see the big man trying to make himself smaller. 

“We were gonna try and see if you’d left a hint to who you’re sleeping with,” he says, and despite the way he doesn’t meet your gaze, he says it so casually you’re actually taken aback. 

“Excuse me?” You let out a huff, and shake your head. “My sex life is my sex life. You two” ―you point at both of them― “have no business with it.” You stand up from your chair and shake your head yet again. “And if you really think I’d leave evidence lying around, I gotta figure out how to let you know that’s not something I’d do.” 

(And if you had, well, your career would for sure be over. If not worse.)

But with that out of the way, you make your way to the briefing room. Captain Cheadle, your boss, stands at the head of the table. In his hand, he holds a wireless presenter, and a few papers are scattered on the table in front of him. You take your place at the table, and as you do, your phone buzzes to signal a new message. 

The captain gives you a shrug and that’s all the permission you need to fish your phone from your pocket and check the text. 

[08.38] twh darling, you left something at your flat

[08.38] you you talking about yourself? that doesnt count

[08.39] twh that too but no, you left your keys

[08.39] you you doing anything today?? 

[08.39] twh you know i am, but i can get them to you

[08.40] you gtg but yes please or there are other solutions…

You let out a slight groan knowing you’ll have to figure out how to get your keys without actually meeting Tom. You can’t meet in public, and there are few places where you can meet without being discovered; there’s a reason you’re always at your apartment and never at his house. (well, you’ve been there once, but that was with work and it doesn’t count.)

Whatever his reply is to the latest text you sent, you don’t get to read (though you do feel the vibration on your thigh). Captain Cheadle has called for your attention, Mackie and Evans having seated themselves in the room as well, and you can’t do anything but pay attention to your boss. 

“The tip we got is an inside tip.” The captain steps aside to let the projector show a photo of the biggest crime boss currently in New York City, Tom Hiddleston. As with every other photo he’s in, he’s wearing a fucking blue sweater. “The source is reliable, as we know of their work with Hiddleston, but we’re not sure if the tip is.” 

He clicks to another photo, which is of the same man getting into a car. Only, he’s getting into the driver’s seat, something that is unusual for someone that has his own driver. “We can’t know if the tip is true or not, but we’re guessing there’s some truth to it.”

You roll your eyes slightly (not enough for the captain to notice). “Can you tell us what it is yet?”

Captain Cheadle nods. “There’s been a mystery woman in his life. None of his men know, but based on a lift in spirits and an increase in nights gone from his own house, they believe he has to be seeing someone. Rumor amidst his men, according to our tip, is that it's been going on for a few months.”

A knot tightens in your gut. A few months is a little less than correct, but yeah… It’s been six months since you started dating Tom Hiddleston. Off work, on a weekend, you met him in a bar, you got drunk and your mind didn’t work in any other way than tell you how hot he was and how good he made you feel. There was little persuasion needed for Tom to get you in a bed, naked, and screaming out his name. And so far, he’s managed to do it most nights since. 

(The case had been assigned to you a month after your first encounter. You’d known his name well before you met him, but that hadn’t stopped you. And, even as his girlfriend, you had no evidence on him whatsoever.)

Yet, after six months of no one knowing anything, you’d been fairly certain you’d get away with it. At least until either one of you got enough of pretending. Tom has enough money for you to quit your job should it come to it, the only problem being that you don’t want to because you love your job. 

“Did your source say anything about who the woman could be? Where to find her?” asks Evans. 

You wait patiently for the reply. Your gut stirs with the thought that they’d know, that just your face (usually a poker-face no one could read no matter how much you panicked on the inside) would reveal you. But you aren’t revealing anything but being deep in thought, as you can feel Mackie’s eyes on you as your own flicker across the room and a frown has pronounced itself on your face. 

“The tip was slight, but the source believes that there might be something to check at a bar. It’s one Hiddleston frequents, High Rise.”

Oh, if only the name didn’t chime with recognition at the back of your mind. There isn’t much to do but accept your fate and follow up on the lead, only try your best to avoid being recognized as the girl who left with Tom Hiddleston half a year ago. That could be rather easy, seeing as the bar was dark and you’d been wearing more make-up than usual and the dress you wore hadn’t stood out in any way, and it being six months ago.

You nod at captain Cheadle. “Anything else we should know?” 

He nods slightly. “There came one more thing with the tip, but this wasn’t a written message.” He roams around his papers for something and eventually fishes out an evidence bag. Inside is an envelope and something small you can’t see from far away. He slides it across the table to you. 

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of what lies in the bag. The envelope easily recognizable as one you’d written yourself (though you’d used a typewriter―fancy―so there isn’t any handwriting to check), and the content a barely visible silver and gold wristband inscribed with a phrase Tom has whispered time and time again in your ear (the most intimate you’ve been outside of sex); my safe spot is with you in my arms. 

Your fingers graze over it as you look at the inscription. “That’s pretty intimate,” you say, and an agreed murmur comes from your captain. 

“You traced it?” asks Mackie. 

“Untraceable. Paid in cash, no receipt, and might even have been done illegally.” 

At least you know that that’s not true, and if they’d tried just a little bit harder, it wouldn’t be that hard. 

“Fingerprints?” you ask, though not sure exactly where it comes from. (Or, well, it comes from the fact that you’ve touched the wristband on several occasions and that, unless wiped, there should be fingerprints all over it.)

You look up from the evidence bag to see captain Cheadle shake his head. “A few around the clasp, but none enough to make a full print, and any other we could find are only Hiddleston’s. The envelope’s the same”

“The question is whether Hiddleston sent it to someone or if someone sent it to him.” Evans motions for you to slide the evidence over to him, and you do. 

“He’s the biggest crime lord in New York, he’s gotta be real smitten if he’d make that to send to someone.” Mackie shrugs, not sold on the idea that Tom Hiddleston, crime boss extreme, could be sappy enough to send it apparently. 

Well, if only you knew what Tom would do for the one he loves, if only you knew.

“Well,” you say and clap your hands together, “seems we have more to do today than reports.” 

A slight chuckle comes from the three men in the room with you. 

“I want you, Mackie, with me on a trip down to High Rise. Captain, is it possible to talk to our source other than written communication?” 

A nod. 

“Then I want you, Evans, to have a little chat with Hiddleston’s ex-buddy. Let’s see if he doesn’t have more information, and if you can’t get much, try a little harder on the wristband. There’s gotta be something to look for there, maybe mention it to our source?”

“On it.” Evans gives you a thumbs up, grabs the evidence and walks out the door. You and Mackie move to do the same, and on your way there, you fish your phone out from your pocket. 

[08.41] twh i’ll have to get back to you on that, but you can probably count me in have a good day, darling

[09.27] you sounds great but, on some not so good news, you got a snitch amidst you and i have smth that belongs to you in evidence

You don’t wait for a reply, certain he’s busy and also because Mackie is a nosy asshole and you’re not gonna get caught on a text message. 

“You know where High Rise is?” asks Mackie as you make your way to your desk. 

“GPS exists, but I have a hunch,” you say as you grab your jacket. Unfortunately, that hunch is more a hunch that your relationship is getting threatened by your work. 

(“A hunch. Yeah, right, you’ve probably been there.”

“Careful what you say there, kiddo.”

“I’m older than you!”

“And yet, I’m driving.”)

--

[09.53] twh name? and what might that be?

[11.16] you i didnt get one but one of my guys is questioning him smth i bought you

[11.17] twh ill figure it out, and that has to be my wristband. how? 

[11.17] you you tell me

Mackie nudges your arm with his elbow as you make it inside the bar. It’s mostly deserted, highly unlike the life that was there the last time you set foot in the place. A man sits in the booth in the back sipping what looks like whiskey based on the glass and the brown liquid inside. By the entrance, a woman and a man sit across each other at a table. Each of them have a beer, though only the man looks to have touched his, and the woman doesn’t look too happy with him. 

However, you turn your attention to the bar, and the bartender behind the counter. Fortunately, he’s not the same one that was here when you were. Making your way over, you note the exits (the one you came in through, a backdoor in the kitchen, and―one you noted the first time you were there―the window in the ladies’ room). You also note the man sitting at the edge of the bar counter, back hunched over and an old fashioned placed in front of him. Untouched. 

“How can I help you?” asks the man behind the counter. A bushy beard covers his chin, ruffled brown hair the top of his head, and tattoos cover his upper arm, visible where his t-shirt sleeve ends. In his hands he holds a cleaning towel and a glass, but as you sit down, he slings the towel over his shoulder and puts the glass down. “Guessing beer for you, sir, and maybe a scotch on the rocks for the lady?”

You shake your head, and roll your eyes at Mackie’s almost nod. You’re at work, you’re not gonna drink. “Sorry, mister, but we’re here on other business.” You pull out your badge and give him a peek. 

The bartender’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, ma’am, didn’t know. You could've fooled me.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Tom Hardy, co-owner of this shithole.”

“Shithole?” Mackie eyes the man. 

“Can’t say there’s a lot of good going on in here, really. Nothin’ illegal, though.” Hardy winks at Mackie and you roll your eyes. The last thing you care about is the tiny illegal things going on at the bar. “What can I help you with? There’s not been any complaints, right?”

Mackie shakes his head. “Relax, man, it’s got nothing to do with you. We’re looking for information on a man, also named Tom, but with a different last name. Hiddleston, heard of him?”

The scoff Tom Hardy comes with is barely audible, but you catch it and cock your head to the side. 

“Who hasn’t heard of Tom Hiddleston? Supposedly a big mafia boss, but the police has got nothing on him.” 

“We got word he frequents this bar. That true?”

Hardy nods. “He’s by at least once a week, sometimes more.” 

You try to drown the ache that falls over your heart knowing he still comes by. “You know what he’s here for?” 

The bartender shrugs. “Don’t get into that shit, but I know he has a deal with my co-owner, Luke Evans.” 

Mackie pulls out a pad and a pen and writes down the name. “Hiddleston ever leave here with a girl in the last few months?” 

Hardy shakes his head. “Nah, leaves with the same men, though he has gotten different. Before he used to indulge a little more with the women, but now he seems to not want to. They want him, though.” 

The ache fades a little at that. He’s loyal, he’s trustworthy, he’s yours. “Did he use to leave with girls before?” you ask. 

“Dunno. He’s usually here when Luke works, only some shifts we got together.” Hardy shrugs. “Though the times I have been here, he’s never left with a girl. He’s followed some into the bathroom, but never left with one. Gotta be some special girl for him to leave with her.” 

You suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Thank you, mister Hardy. Could you get us in touch with your co-owner? We wanna have a little chat with him, too.” 

“He works tonight. Sorry, can’t give you anymore.” The man picks up a glass again. “But if we’re done here, you’re gonna have me excused. I have a job to do.”

“Thanks for the cooperation,” says Mackie and pushes away from the counter. “We might come back for more.” 

You say a small goodbye as you follow after your coworker. On the way to the door, your eyes stray to the man in the back of the bar. Something about him seems off, and even more so when he holds up his glass and tips it your way with a slight hint of a ‘cheers’. The creepy smirk that places itself on his face sparks no comfort, and you let out a sigh as you walk through the door Mackie holds open for you. 

“Something wrong?” he asks. 

“Got a weird feeling from one of the dudes in the bar. Might be nothing, might be something.” You shake your head, slowly, as your thoughts whirr around in your head. “Doesn’t matter. If he’s here tonight, I might check into it, but it’s probably nothing.” 

Mackie shrugs. “We didn’t really get that much here either, though. Hope Evans got better luck.” 

“Yeah, gotta hope. But I have a feeling our source might’ve changed his mind on talking.” You open the car door and get in, Mackie following your lead. “I have a feeling Evans might not have been very lucky.”

“You thinkin’ we might end up with… homicide?”

You shrug. “Can’t be sure, but wouldn’t be surprising. Don’t believe we’re gonna be able to connect it to Hiddelston, though.” You start the engine and pull out on the road. “Don’t believe we’re gonna have any connection other than the guy’s snitching.”

“Good enough to talk to him.”

“Good enough to blow what we have if we do.”

--

The police station became a place of chaos in a matter of seconds. One moment, you’re talking to Evans on what he could find (the source had disappeared without a trace), and the next, it’s like the station is on fire. 

Evans, Mackie and yourself are out of the loop. You lean against your desk, your coworkers leaning against the neighboring ones, and look at the chaos erupted around you. People run from one place to another, screaming for help or otherwise. 

Then silence consumes the crowd as someone turns up the sound of the TV in the background. You turn to see the screen. On it, there’s a picture of a fire and countless dead bodies, burnt crisps until there is nothing recognizable left to see. 

“In just a few minutes the house, that belongs to the infamous crime boss Tom Hiddleston, went up in flames. Whether the man himself was in the house or not, we do not know. Police have yet to arrive at the scene, and the firemen are doing their best to put out the blazing fire. So far, we have no witnesses and no way of knowing what caused it. We’ll be back soon with more updates.”

You lock eyes with Evans and Mackie. 

“Our source was in that fire, wasn’t he?” Mackie makes a grimace, and then shakes his head and throws his hands up in the air. “You called it. You fucking called it.”

“I didn’t want to call it.” You shake your head. “And we’re not the force to go out there either, so we’re gonna need someone to talk to Hiddleston about this, about his source, without it being suspicious.”

Evans gets up from his place. “I’ll ask Sebastian.”

“That buddy of yours?” you ask. 

“This is the kind of case he gets called out on.” 

“Go ahe―”

“Y/L/N!” You’re cut off by the sound of your captain yelling your name. “You’re going out with the team. Take one of the boys. Don’t alert Hiddleston, but he’ll know why you’re there.”

“You got it, sir.” You turn to Mackie and Evans. “Looks like we got some luck after all. Which one of you wanna join me?”

--

When you pull up to the scene, the fire has been put out. But the fire that is the press and the countless people that’ve decided this is something they need to see live, that has yet to be handled. 

You and Evans walk up to the police barricade tape and shove it aside. An office tries to stop you, but you easily walk past after a flash of your badge. The head officer on the case is easily recognizable where he commands what looks like some junior officers. 

“What’s the deal?” you ask. 

He turns to you, and there you find Evans’s and Mackie’s friend, Sebastian Stan. He smiles at the two of you. “Got five casualties, one critically hurt on his way to the hospital. Medics think his fate’s been sealed. Other than that the fire’s been put out, and the owner of the house arrived about five minutes ago.” Sebastian points to a male figure pacing up and down the sidewalk. “Don’t know if I’d wanna talk to him though.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “We haven’t got much choice.” You’re about to walk from the officer, but you have one last question. “You got any identities on who died?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, and so far it seems the fire was an accident. No fuel used of any kind, nothing weird about the source, and the six that were in the house weren’t close to it. Three of them were asleep.”

“Didn’t the house have a smoke alarm?” asks Evans. 

Sebastian shakes his head. “Nope. And you’re not gonna believe what they, as of now, believe to be the source.”

“What?”

“A hair dryer. Wasn’t turned off.” 

You frown. “A hair dryer? Nothing else? It’s a pretty big house. Seems like a long shot.”

Sebastian shrugs. “So far we’ve ruled out arson, and seeing how annoyed the owner is over there, safe to say he wasn’t planning on burning his house down.”

Don’t say that. He wouldn’t care, seeing as that isn’t the house he uses mostly―that’s just the public one. 

Even Evans knows that, and you give him a look as you move away from Sebastian and towards said owner of the house. 

“Hiddleston,” you say as you near him. 

The man turns around. His expression is curious rather than angry, but something tugs at his lips as his gaze flickers over to Evans. “Miss Y/L/N, what do I owe the lovely pleasure?” 

“Your house burned down. Five of your men dead, and a sixth one just holding on. We’re thinking he’ll die, too, medics said it was critical.” You shrug. “But you already knew that, right?”

Tom smiles, and takes a step closer to you. You have to hold out a hand to stop Evans from coming in between, knowing you have somewhat of a bodyguard in the man. “Darling.” Tom’s hand comes up to cup your cheek and you have to fight the urge to lean into his touch. “How could I know that? No one wants to tell me a bloody thing.” His voice changes fast at the last sentence, the annoyance creeping in. 

“Did you set the fire?” asks Evans. 

You roll your eyes. “He doesn’t mean to ask that. But we would like to know if there are any of your acquaintances missing?” 

Tom nods. “There’s one I wanted to talk to. Name’s Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Haven’t been able to contact him since last night, and that’s unusual.”

“You think he was in the fire?” 

The male shakes his head. “I don’t believe he was there at all, but I do believe he would do this. I got the impression he isn’t quite happy with me, or my decisions lately.”

He’s the snitch. 

“We’ll let you know if he was in the fire.” You use your hand to push Tom’s hand away from your face, his touch lingering a little too long to be a play (but you weren’t going to complain.) “I have one other inquiry.”

“Go on.” 

You take a deep breath before the words leave your mouth. He should be prepared, considering you told him what was in the evidence bag, but you can’t be sure. “Any girlfriends or women in your life we should know about?” 

He smiles (god, that smile). “Other than you, love?” 

Smooth. You can practically hear Evans roll his eyes behind you. 

“Yes, other than me.”

“Then no. I have a far too busy life to deal with girlfriends,” he says, and winks, “though you shouldn’t hesitate to contact me.” Tom leans in close, his lips grazing your ear and his hand taking yours―something cold grazes your fingers. “I can give you a night you won’t forget.” 

You don’t let the hitch in your breath show, and when he places a kiss to your cheek, you only stare at him as he pulls away (and let your hand find comfort in your jacket pocket where you let go of your keys).. “Don’t leave town, Mister Hiddleston.” 

“I won’t, darling.” 

And then you walk away together with Evans. He keeps glancing behind him, and the confusion is written on his face. 

“Just ask,” you say as you reach the car. 

Evans opens the door. “How are you not fazed by that?” he asks. 

You get into the car and shrug. “Because I don’t let it. He thinks it’s fun to play with me because I don’t have a reaction―” (ehehe, yeah right) “―I think it’s fun to let him. Eventually, something has to slip and we’ll be able to catch him on the spot.”

“But you gotta allow yourself to be harassed to do so?” 

You chuckle. “I wouldn’t call it harassment, hon. I call it work.”

Evans frowns as you start the engine and pull out of the parking spot. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you noticed? When it comes to sexual harassment, Tom Hiddleston is the least of my worries.”

--

It’s supposed to be a brief stop; get into your apartment, change into something that doesn’t drag attention at a bar on a Thursday night (probably not going to be too crowded anyways), and get out. 

But when you walk in through the door, you see a pair of shoes kicked off in the entrance hall. A coat lies draped over your living-room armchair―a coat easily recognizable. 

You hurry to close the door, and kick off your own shoes. The trail of clothes leads you further into the apartment. A dress shirt folded together and placed on the cupboard in your living room. Pants lie discarded on the floor in the doorway to your bedroom. And the man who it belongs to, you find tangled in your sheets, buck naked with the exception of the tie around his neck. 

“What do you want?” you ask him, an amused smile plastered on your face as you shake your head. 

Tom lifts his head a little. A smirk colors his face and he shrugs. “Thought I could surprise you a little, before I have to get going.” He checks the wristwatch on his arm (which you first now noticed he hasn’t taken off either). “But you’ve used quite a lot of time to get here, and now we barely have time for anything.”

You shake your head, smile gone. “Sorry, babe, but I haven’t got the time.”

“What? You have plans for the evening?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but it still slightly hurts seeing as you barely get out of the apartment when you get time off. Really, six months ago was a chance meeting unlike any other.

“I have work.” You move to open your wardrobe. “But if you want, you can help me figure out what to wear.” You turn your head to cast Tom a glance, eyebrow raised. 

He turns a little, enough for the sheet that had covered him to fall off and leave him fully exposed. And with just the tie as a piece of clothing, you have to turn back around. God, what that man can do. You grit your teeth as you open the door and file through the few dresses you own, patiently waiting for his response. 

“What is it for?” he asks, and his velvet smooth voice does nothing to ease the growing arousal in your gut, not with the image of him and that tie the only thing on your mind. 

You swallow before you reply, but you don’t dare turn around. “Gotta talk to the owner of a bar, and don’t wanna drag attention with people there so we agreed to act less like police. Might have to have a drink or two.” You sigh, and close your eyes. “You should have waited with this until then.”

“What?” His voice is in your ear, warm breath fanning your neck. You bite down on your lower lip, hard. “You don’t like it? You’re not enjoying it?” His hands find the hem of your shirt. Fingers graze up along your skin and you find yourself complying when he makes a move to drag it off. 

“Tom,” you whisper. You lean into him, into the fingers tracing along your bra and the way his lips ghost over the skin on your shoulder, up your neck. “I don’t―” You shudder as he presses a kiss to your jaw. “Ba― Babe, I don’t have―”

He tips your head back and his lips find yours. Barely touching, you close your eyes, and the image of Tom in bed and you using the tie to drag him to you has you swallow, almost succumbing to the pleasure you know you’ll get. His voice is low when he speaks. “Don’t have what?” 

You don’t answer as your hand shoots up to press his head closer to yours, to push your lips together. Everything you can think about is him, your boyfriend, and in a matter of seconds your clothes are off as well, and you sink into the mattress as Tom throws you down on your bed. Your eyes open briefly, to see him study the contours of your body and, even as you do give into Tom and your desire, the haste is still on your mind. 

With determination etched into you, you drag him to you with the tie and capture his lips in yours. There is no limit to what this man does to you, and there is no limit to what you let him. 

--

With the already extra time you used with Tom, you didn’t have the time to shower. You’d tried your best to fix your hair and do something extra with your make-up, but Tom didn’t have it in him to let you dress and time was wasted. 

Evans and Mackie pick you up outside your apartment complex in Evans’s car. As you approach, the two of them lean against it, deep in conversation. They barely notice you coming, but when they do, both give appreciative looks. 

“Looking good,” says Mackie, eyes travelling up and down your body. Evans remains quiet, the way his eyes dance over you the only comment you get (and you have to admit, you’re not really complaining.) 

You’d opted for something nice, but nothing too much. A skirt that stops mid-thigh, knee high boots with a thick heel, and a slightly revealing shirt. (You’d also opted for a thigh holster so that you could still bring your gun. 

“You’re wearing that.” It’s more a statement than a question from the naked man resting on your bed. 

You nod, and glance his way. “Problem?”

Tom’s eyes graze over you, hunger evident in them. “I would certainly like to take it off.” 

You lift the hem of your skirt, revealing the thigh holster with your gun. “This too?”

“Yes, and right now.”)

In your hand, you have a clutch and you’re also wearing a coat to keep some warmth in the cool evening air. “Shall we go?” you ask. 

And the two men both get off from where they’re leaning against the car. Mackie easily offers up the passenger’s seat to you, even though whenever it's him and Evans fighting over it, it’s first come first serve. You smile a thanks and then you’re on your way. 

Evans parks a few blocks away from the bar (his expensive Audi with tinted windows certainly drags some attention), and you use the walk there to go through the course of action. 

“Mackie’s the cop-cop. He’ll talk to Luke Evans, try something else. We try to talk to some of the people there. Whether that’s as a cop or not, I don’t really care. All we really need is a lead. If anyone sees any of Hiddleston’s associates, please alert the others.” 

The two nod. “Sure, but before we go in there, you have to fix your hair.” 

You raise your brow at Mackie. “Excuse me?”

“You got sex hair.” He gives you a ‘sorry’ smile and a shrug. “Like, we’re not judging you for having it, but if you’d told us you had a visitor we would’ve waited to come to give you more time.”

“Fuck.” You shake your head and stop. “One, help me fix my hair. Two, I wasn’t planning on it. I was ambushed.” Something that isn’t really that far fetched, it’s not like you knew Tom would be there when you came home.

Evans stops in front of you and asks with his face if he can help, and you nod. His hands move to brush a little through your hair, and fix a little on what probably stands out. 

“How could you get ambushed?” asks Mackie. 

You roll your eyes. “I got home, there were some clothes lying around, I followed the trail to a naked man in my bed and seeing as it’s the guy I’m currently seeing it wasn’t a bad sight. I tried to tell him I didn’t have the time, but he can be quite persuasive.”

As you talk, Evans tugs a little harshly on your hair and you let out a pained sound. He apologizes, but continues to try and fix your hair. 

Mackie shrugs. “How long have you been seeing him?”

You shrug. “Few months.” 

“How many months are a few?” asks Evans, his hands letting go of your hair and an approving smile on his face. He steps away to get Mackie’s blessing and the man nods affirmative. 

“Uhh, six.” 

Both Mackie and Evans stare wide-eyed at you. 

“You’ve been dating a dude for six months and not told anyone?!” If you didn’t know better (and you’re not always sure you do), you’d think there was a layer of accusation in Mackie’s voice, but you don’t believe there is. 

You shrug and begin to walk again. “What does it matter? It’s not like there’s a need to know about those things.”

“I thought we were friends.” Mackie shakes his head, a small friendly glare sent your way. 

“What made you think that?” you ask, but the same friendly feel to your words as there was to his glare. “But can we let it go? I don’t want to talk about my private life.”

Evans nods. “We’re here anyways.”

And you sure are. You look up to see the blinking neon sign of the bar. The bass from the music drifts to where you stand by the door, and with a quick glance inside, you can see it’s fuller than you expected for there to be another work day of the week left. Though you do notice the age of the people; it's possible the college kids don't have class tomorrow, or don’t care. 

The three of you make your way inside, gaining a few glances as you step in, but everyone quickly turns back to their own lives. You give a small sign to the two men you came with and move away from them. 

It’s easy to step up to the bar, and you easily recognize the bartender as the one who was there when you met Tom. You’re guessing he’s Luke Evans, and you take a breath before you signal him for a drink. Hopefully, you won’t be recognized. 

“What can I get you?” he asks. 

“A whiskey, thanks.” 

He pushes away from the counter, and easily grabs a glass and a bottle and pours. When he puts it down in front of you, his gaze lingers. “Have I seen you before?” 

You shake your head. “Has to be somewhere else than here in that case.” 

“First time?” 

You nod. 

“Recommend not drinking a lot. We get some sleazy people in here.”

“I hear you also get crime bosses. This the place to meet the Tom Hiddleston?”

Luke chuckles. “Hon, if you want to meet Tom Hiddleston, I suggest you start being careful what you wish.” He nods to the back of the bar. “Best luck is sitting down in that reserved booth. It’s his usual.”

You cock your head. “He’s coming here today?”

The bartender nods. 

“Ain’t I lucky,” you whisper and smile at him. You easily get away from the counter and make your way to the empty booth in the back. 

Sure enough, a sign reading reserved is placed on the table. Who it’s reserved for doesn’t say, nor is there a time stamp. You make for sliding into it, but a hand grasps your wrist and pulls you away. 

As you fall into the chest of the stranger, you turn your head. The man who you’d seen earlier today is the one holding you back. Up close, you notice bags under his eyes and he reeks of alcohol. You pull away from his grip and raise a brow his way. 

“I wouldn’t sit down there if I were you,” he says, and slides into the same booth he had earlier. 

“Why?”

He shakes his head. “Tom Hiddleston isn’t a man to mess with.”

“And how do you know so much about Tom Hiddleston?”

The man pats the seat next to him. “Sit and I’ll tell you.”

You hesitate, but eventually slide in. You leave room between yourself and the stranger. If anything were to happen, you do have a gun.

“You got any relation to Hiddleston?” you ask (you have to admit, no matter how much you want your boyfriend not to be caught, you wish you knew more about what he did do). 

“Name’s Aaron.” The snitch. 

You motion for him to go on.

“I was hired by him three months ago. He felt the cops were gaining and wanted something, or someone to try and put a stopper to it.” 

“So, Tom Hiddleston hired you to snitch on the cops?” You want to laugh, seeing as you snitch enough for Tom to never know exactly what you know, but enough to cover his tracks. 

Aaron shakes his head. “He hired me to snitch on a cop. A specific one.” 

You frown, sure if he was hired to snitch on you you’d know and he would have recognized you. Perhaps he had. 

“The cop’s here today.” Aaron’s gaze travels into the crowd of people in the bar. You see where he looks. Evans. “His name is Chris Evans.” 

“Why did he want you to spy on him?” 

Aaron shrugs. “He never said. And eventually, I got sick of it. The guy’s obviously not a threat to Hiddleston and his business. Y/N Y/L/N is, but it’s impossible to find out anything about her. Don’t even know what she looks like.”

You try not to let it show that you flinched at the mention of your own name. And you find it weird that he can’t find anything on you. Tom did so, easily. But there’s no need to dwell on that. You glance at Aaron again, unsure how to ask. 

“You say you got sick of it. What did you do? Just stop doing his bidding, or something else?”

A smile colors Aaron’s face. “Snitched to the cops. Left a message. Anonymous, but I gave them a way to contact me for more information.” He shakes his head. “Got contacted today, but never replied. But I saw you here this morning, talking to the bartender.”

You cock your head. That could be an easy way to draw the connection to you as a cop, not necessarily as Y/N Y/L/N, but you had been seen with Mackie, and usually Mackie and Evans were seen with each other. 

“I have a proposition for you,” he says. “One that means getting close to Hiddleston, and that includes spying on him. Mics, cameras, whatever. I need him in jail.”

“I’m gonna have to say no. I was just hoping for a night, a friend of mine told me he was real good in bed.” You shrug. “But if you have angered him, I got told by the bartender that Hiddleston comes in today.”

Aaron smiles. “You’ll have to excuse me, then. I hope you don’t anger him with only the intention of a one night stand. Based on how you look, I’m pretty sure you’re his type.” The male slides out of the booth, downs his drink in one go, and waves goodbye. You watch as he moves to the restrooms, and you roll your eyes when he winks. 

[10.47] you snitch is alive, in the restrooms hiddlestons supposed to come in today

[10.48] evans no snitch in the restrooms, window’s open tho guessing it was the guy that slipped past me just now

[10.48] you guess so mackie u got anything from the bartender

[10.50] mackie that hiddlestons coming in that their deal is just renting of the venue from time to time

[10.50] you well just have to do the best of it then im sitting in his booth so if he comes hell notice

[10.51] evans sure thats a good idea??

[10.51] you would very much like to know why he put someone to spy on you evans snitch was hired to keep tabs, got annoyed he wasnt keeping tabs on me

[10.51] mackie dam i wanna know that too be careful

You look up and meet the gazes of your coworkers. Evans looks uncomfortable, worried almost, judging by the crease between his brows. Mackie gives you a look of understanding and a pair of thumbs up. 

You down your drink, try to cover the hiss as pain sears down your throat, and make to sit down in Tom’s booth. On the way in, you knock over the reserved sign, making it fall to the floor. Now, it’ll look like you didn’t know. 

[10.57] mackie Incoming

The front door opens slowly. Heads turn to look who comes through, and unlike when you arrived with Mackie and Evans, everyone’s eyes stay on the man who weaves his way through the crowd. 

Tom stops by the bar, has a small chat with the bartender and turns his head to look your way. A smirk grazes his lips as your eyes lock, but he quickly turns back to the man he was talking to. 

You swallow. You have to steady your beating heart, have to shove the thought of the night’s previous events to the back of your mind, and kill the deep swirling feeling in your gut at the sight of Tom in that blue fucking suit. God, if there was something Tom Hiddleston was made to do it’s wearing suits.

The blue color suits his very being. It’s tailored to fit him perfectly; long legs encased in blue fabric that shows off his bum, suit jacket that fits his shoulders and back in a way that has you swallow. You can see his broad shoulders and some of the tightness that drags at his muscled arms. What you can’t wait to see, is how well the shirt underneath fits him. You simply can’t wait for him to pull off the jacket. 

Thankfully, you don’t have to wait very long. With two drinks in hand he makes his way up to where you sit. He doesn’t say anything as he places them on the table, nor does he say anything when he pulls up the reserved sign from where it lies on the floor. He places it back on the table, eyes you warily, and sides into the booth. 

Long arms grasp for the drinks. He pulls them in and pushes one to you. “Can you drink, darling? You’re working, right?” 

You take the glass and swirl the liquid around inside it. “I can, actually.” And you take a sip. “But I won’t drink a lot.” 

Tom moves closer to you, knocking his thigh against yours. You take a deep breath at the touch, the only one you can return―Tom flirting with you whilst you work is no news, but it would be quite different if you did the same. “Have you been waiting long, darling?” 

“No, I haven’t. I managed to preoccupy myself.” 

“Oh, can I hear?” 

You shake your head. “What good would you have of that?” you ask. When you get a shrug in return, you roll your eyes and take another sip of the whiskey. “I have a question for you, though.”

Tom cocks a brow. 

“Why did you need someone to spy on Evans?” 

Your heart beats fast as Tom moves even closer, lips coming up to ghost across your cheek. You can see that the two in the crowd of people keeping a close eye on you flinch, but you don’t make a gesture to show any discomfort. “Have you not noticed, love?” 

You push him away by placing a hand on his chest. “Noticed what?” You try to pull your hand back but Tom places his over yours and keeps your touch on him. A small hint of the love he usually offers you shows through the blue of his eyes. 

“The man likes you, darling. A little too much. Can’t have another man try anything with my woman.” Tom’s gaze flickers out to the crowd, and as you follow it, you see how it lands on Evans and how your coworker squirms. “Now, if only I could show him.”

“Tom,” you say, voice bordering on affectionate. His eyes flicker to you in surprise; he’s only ever been Hiddleston in public. “There’s nothing to worry about, and if you try anything, anything at all, you will have a gun to your head.” 

Tom chuckles. “Are you threatening me?” 

“You know where the gun is.” And the hand that travels up and under your skirt, grazing by the thigh holster, has you swallow. You take a deep breath as his hand travels a little further, and the only way to stop him is to grab his hand. “I didn’t say you could check.” You push at him a little, creating more distance between you two (even though you would like to sit close to him). 

“I didn’t think I needed permission, love.” He smirks and you shake your head. 

You smile innocently at him. “Usually you don’t.” You go to slide out of the booth. “Bye, Hiddleston.” 

Tom grabs your arm and pulls you back to his chest. “Have you really made that big a dent in the case of the Blue Sweater?” he whispers in your ear. You writhe in his grasp, but a firm hand turns your head to him and his face draws closer to yours. “Tell me what I need to do to have the lead again, darling. I’ll do anything.” 

And you can’t stop the sound of surprise that escapes you when Tom presses a chaste kiss to your lips. The surprise is so big you only stare wide-eyed at him, not able to kiss him back (and good is that seeing as you’re in public), and when he pulls back, you push away from him and shake your head. 

“You’re an idiot,” you say (no teasing or play in your voice), and then you walk away. You rush out of the bar, feel Evans’s and Mackie’s eyes on you, and when you get out of the front door you lean against the wall. Your heart hammers in your chest. You’re panting, and you can feel the rush of adrenaline making its way through your body. 

You may like to play with fire, letting him flirt and show affection in public, but you wouldn’t ever go this far. You wouldn’t ever think he’d even risk it. 

“Are you okay?” comes a voice from next to you. Evans and Mackie have made it outside, and you push off the wall to start walking to the car. 

“We’re not talking about it,” you say. 

Neither of them make a move to say more, and you can hear them follow after you. Tom might be the worst person in history to be in a secret relationship with. Or maybe the best. You haven’t decided yet. 

--

It’s no surprise to see the people surrounding your desk when you get to work. Your two usual pests sit at their own, and though not a part of the group waiting for you, they shoot you glances as you sit down. 

You try not to glare at the group, but when they all just quietly stare at you, the anger bubbles. “What?” you ask. 

A small murmur goes through them, until your impatient glare becomes too much and one voice squeaks out, “did Tom Hiddleston kiss you?” 

He has more than once, you think. 

You don’t reply, only giving them an unamused look in return. They quickly scatter, and you can hear the chatter that bubbles up amongst them. 

Not only do you not have the patience for stupid pestering (and annoyance at Evans and Mackie for spreading the word), but your morning was the worst in a while. It’s almost become a usual for Tom to sleep over, whether because he falls asleep after sex or if he just wants to cuddle, but when you came home yesterday, there was no Tom. 

And no Tom means no morning cuddles, or a goodbye kiss as you leave out the door. On top of that, he hasn’t texted either. No saying why he didn’t show. No explaining why he risked a kiss in public. 

A text you did get in the morning, was a journalist asking for an interview. Especially interesting was the lack of respect for an ongoing investigation, and the bold way to ask whether or not you were secretly helping Tom not get caught (you want to know how they would even guess it. That’s a pretty bold assumption to make about the lead detective on a case). 

Tired, you rest your elbow on the desk and lay your head in your hand. You massage your forehead slightly, and there’s no mistaking the groan that leaves your lips as your thoughts swirl. 

A knock on your desk pulls you out of it. You look up to see Mackie leaning against it. “You okay?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. We gotta talk about what information we got, though. But I don’t trust… I don’t want to talk out here, so, briefing room in five minutes. I don’t know if Evans heard, but make sure he did.” 

Mackie scrunches his nose slightly and presses his lips together. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Briefing room’s occupied.” 

You curse under your breath and shake your head. “We got a meeting room, that occupied?” 

Mackie shakes his head. “Not that I know.” 

“We’ll meet there.” And as he gives you a thumbs up, you get up from your desk and move to the captain’s office. With a knock and a mumbled ‘come in’ you walk into the room and close the door behind you. 

Cheadle looks up at you. “I heard what happened.” 

You nod. “Yeah, but there’s something else I’m here about.” 

He quirks a brow. “Oh? Important?” 

You pull out your phone, ignore the new message you’ve gotten and find the text from the journalist. You hand the captain your phone. “Got this this morning. I want to know how they got my number, what made them think I’m colluding with the guy I’m trying to catch, and what the hell made them believe I’d ever talk to a news source about an open investigation.” 

“That is weird.” Captain Cheadle hands you back your phone (just in time, too, because a message chimes in from twh). “When you have time, come back in here. I know you’re gonna talk to the guys now, but I’d like for it to be soon. And check if they haven’t gotten the same one.”

“Yes, sir.” You sigh and walk out again. You head for the meeting room and on your way you pull open your text thread with Tom. 

[08.18] twh darling we need to talk i think i have some information you’d like to have

[08.23] you gonna talk about smth else too or just your problem??

[08.23] twh im sorry, darling, i got caught up in work we can talk about both tell me when you have time and ill show up at your flat

[08.23] you tonight, 8 

The reply goes by you as you open the door to the meeting room. Evans and Mackie already sit down, Evans with papers in front of him and Mackie with his phone out on the table. You frown, but sit down across from them. 

“I don’t know who wants to start.” You look between the two men, and when neither say anything, you shrug. “Guess I’ll go then.” You take a deep breath. “Our snitch’s name is Aaron Taylor-Johnson, the man Hiddleston mentioned yesterday when we questioned him about the fire. He isn’t dead because he was in the bar. He says he was hired a few months ago to keep tabs on Evans, but he got sick of it because, according to him, you’re not the threat. On the other hand, I am, but he didn’t know he was talking to me.”

“Did you find out why Hiddleston got him to spy on Evans?” asks Mackie. 

You shake your head. “Hiddleston didn’t answer that. Snitch didn’t know himself, but he said he tried to keep tabs on me, too, only he couldn’t. He didn’t have anything to go on, no information, no way to know what I look like. And I find that interesting. Why would Hiddleston go out of his way to make sure they couldn’t do anything to make me a culprit or anything?” 

“Maybe because Hiddleston has the biggest crush on you?” asks Evans, and there’s no mistaking the hint of spite in his voice as he says so. “Or, he finds you that big enough a threat he can’t have his guys going around doing stuff to hinder you because you’re smart enough to be able to connect it to him?” 

“I hope the last,” you mumble. “But there was definitely something he wasn’t telling me. He seemed to know more than he let on, but I couldn’t push like I usually do because then he’d know. I want to see if we can contact him again, because he knew we tried yesterday without luck.”

“We’ll try, but I don’t think we’re gonna get much either.” Evans nods, and all three of you let out sighs. 

You motion for them to start talking instead. Evans slides you a piece of paper. Not much is on it, but the words are clear. You look up at him. 

“There were some regulars there that have witnessed Hiddleston many times. The man I talked to said that.” Evans coughs. “‘He’s always alone, at least when he sits, but he leaves with men. Never has a girl around him unless they come up to him, hasn’t had one in a long time. Only once did he leave with one. She was pretty, looked rather intimidating, actually. Don’t think it lasted.’ The man also went on to ramble about how after that, Hiddleston hasn’t been seen with a girl. Well, before you.” 

“So he has left with a girl once.” Mackie confirms. “Luke Evans said the same thing. A pretty little thing that edged in on the man unlike no one he’d seen before, and that surprisingly got to leave with him. He’s never seen the woman again, and he found that odd. He doesn’t believe Hiddleston’s got someone in his life, though.” 

You bite your lower lip. “Well, that is something. Any descriptions?” 

Both shake their heads.

“There is one thing I noted, though,” says Mackie. “If Hiddleston does have someone he likes, is with, whatever. He so openly flirts with you that that woman has got to be furious, and he probably wouldn’t have kissed you either. I think the wristband was sent to him, not from him.” 

You nod. “I believe you’re right there.” You know he’s right, but that’s details you’re not sharing. “But I have something more interesting.” You fish your phone out of your pocket (ignore the new messages from Tom) and open up the one you got this morning. 

“What’s going on?” asks Evans as you place your phone in front of them on the table. They read over the text and cast eyes up to you. Something in the look both send, they’ve seen something similar before. 

“Got it this morning.” You snatch your phone back, seeing the almost pop-up about a new text and not risking who it’s from. “I need to know who believes I’m colluding with the enemy.”

Mackie nods as he opens up his own phone and slides it across to you. “We got the same text, though slightly altered. They’re asking if we know anything about you colluding with Hiddleston.”

[06.53] unkown Hi, I’m a reporter from New York Times. I was wondering if there would be released more information pertaining to the Hiddleston case, and what you know about Hiddleston and Detective Y/L/N’s relationship to the man. I heard last night that they kissed, and maybe the reason you haven’t caught him yet is something entirely else than him being good at what he does.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter. You slide Mackie’s phone back to him and let out a loud sigh. 

Things are not looking very bright. 

--

A/N: thats what i have. if you want to, reblog this with a continuation, but please dont steal any of this and act like it’s your own. i worked a lot on this when i still had motivaton but i wanted to at least share it even if i wont finish it, to which im deeply sorry

would always want to know what you guys think... 

[sentient-stove]

Cartilage

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Remy, Roman, Logan, Emile

Relationships: Roman/Remy/Emile, Familial Analogical, Familial Princxiety

Additional tags: hospitals, human au, autistic virgil, therapist emile, car accidents.

TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

Summary: Roman finds a teen during a traumatic event.  He adopts him basically.

Word Count: 2914

Notes: I didn’t kill virgil this time. (I have track record of doing that)

AO3

“Prince, we need a nurse in trauma room one, go!”

Roman looked up and nodded, speed walking to the trauma room, running into an anesthesiologist, who was flipping through a tablet.

“Do you know who’s in there?”

“No, but there was a bad wreck on I-37, father and son are coming in, it should be one of them.”  She turned.  

Roman nodded and they broke apart, with her heading to the other trauma room and Roman going to wash and put on the sterilized gear.  He was getting inside the room right as two paramedics came wheeling in a teen on a stretcher.

“Fractured ribs and possible collapsed lung, he’ll need surgery.”  One said and Roman nodded, helping transfer him to the table.

The room was dead silent as nurses and doctors worked, Roman quietly helping as the lung was reinflated and they stitched up a few smaller cuts on his face and chest.

When it was all over, Roman helped transfer him into a room.

“What’s his name?”

“Virgil Alt, fourteen.”  The other nurse said as he wrote it down and placed the clipboard in it’s holder at the edge of the bed.  “His father died while in surgery.”

Roman looked at the small body, swamped by machines and bandages.   “Poor thing.”

“CPS will probably be here once he wakes up…”  The nurse trailed off.  

…

Two hours earlier

“Dad?”

“Yes Virgil?” “Isn’t it kinda dangerous to be driving in the snow?  I mean, we did have a snow day because of it.”  Virgil looked up from his seat on the passenger side.

Logan sighed.  “We’ve talked over this before.  The roads have been cleared now, and I wouldn’t be taking us anywhere if I wasn’t absolutely certain that we would be in danger.”

Virgil nodded and turned the radio on.  “Sorry for being nervous.”

“It’s perfectly fine to show concern.  It is late at night and there has been an increase in car accidents.”

Virgil hummed and pulled a rubix cube from his hoodie, relaxing as Logan snuck a glance at his son.

“I love you Virgil.”

“I know Dad, you get so sappy at the most random times.”  Virgil didn’t look up at his cube and Logan smiled before returning his gaze to the road.

Sure, it was dark and late, but they would be fine.

Unfortunately the semi that hit the patch of black ice would prove otherwise.

...

Roman got home around midnight, quietly creeping to the bedroom that he shared with his husbands, being careful as he got changed out of his scrubs and climbed into bed to join Remy and Emile.

Both were already asleep, thankfully, Roman hated it when they waited up for him and so he threw an arm over Remy and pulled the comforter back over him as his breathing settled.

Poor kid.  Roman wished that he could get out the thought, he’d seen plenty of people die during his time as a nurse, but this was his first time with a child losing his family.

Hopefully he had another relative that he would wake up to.

…

Virgil woke up in extreme pain, head feeling fuzzy as he attempted to sit up, only to have a hand at his shoulder, gently pushing him back.

“Hey kiddo.  You had a bit of a rough night, so you need to lay back, okay?”

Virgil nodded.  “Where am I?”  He turned his head to see a cheery looking man with curly hair writing something down.

“Hospital.  You got into a bad wreck last night.  We had to fix your lungs and give you some stitches.”

Virgil could vaguely remember last night and he blinked slowly.  “Where’s my dad?”

The man pursed his lips.  “I’m not sure.  Probably in a separate recovery room.  I’ll have to ask around.”

Virgil nodded and settled back.  “Everything hurts.”

“We’ll get you some medicine, okay?”

“Thank you.”

“Just doing my job kiddo.  You’ll be back to normal in no time.”  The man smiled softly.  “I’m Patton.”

“Thank you Patton.”

…

Roman danced around the kitchen, Remy sneaking from his spot on the counter and Emile already sitting at their table, the only one completely ready for the day as he took a drink of his tea.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream!”  Roman sang as he approached Remy and tapped him on the nose.

“Ew babes, you know I hate the mushy stuff.”

“That’s not what you said this morning when you were trying to convince Emile to not get out of bed.”  Roman teased as he turned back to the stove and flipped the French Toast that he was making.

“It was cold!”  Remy complained and Roman gave an easy laugh.

“Sure love.”

Remy stuck out his tongue at him, before moodily picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

“Ro, what shift do you have today?”  Emile called.

“Noon to five.”  Roman put the French Toast on a plate and handed it to Remy, dipping the next two slices of bread into the egg mixture he had.

“I get off at six, should we do a date night tonight?”  Emile looked at the pair and Remy nodded.

“I just have to email a few people and then I’m done with work, so I can do the planning if you guys are okay with that.”

Roman flipped the toast again.  “Sounds great.”

…

Patton sighed quietly once Virgil fell back asleep.   He didn’t want to be the one to break it to the teen that he was alone in the world now.  

Lying to him was wrong, but he didn’t know what else to do.  Patton checked the vitals again before leaving the room, nearly running into a fellow nurse, Roman.

“Hey Popstar!”  Roman smiled at him as he sidestepped and Patton gave him a weak grin back.

“Hey Ro.”

“Is the kid okay?”

“For now, we still haven’t broken the news to him though… I don’t want to be the one to do it.”

Patton sniffed a bit and Roman held out his arms, welcoming the other into his embrace.  “It’ll be alright, he has family to take care of him.”

Patton shook his head.  “No he doesn’t.  It’s just him and his dad.”

Roman exhaled slowly.  “Oh.”

…

Virgil decided that he didn’t like the hospital.  No one was telling him where his dad was, most people just gave him sad looks and said that they didn’t know where he was.

So he took it into his own hands after the nurse left him, saying that she’d be back if he needed anything.

He kicked away the tight sheets and winced as the pain in his ribs flared as he moved to stand.  Virgil didn’t let that deter him though as he pulled the IV along with him, being careful as he detached everything else like how he’d seen the nurse do when she let him have a bathroom break.  Nothing went off, which was good, and Virgil walked unsteadily to the door of his hospital room and pushed it open, the IV rolling next to him.

The hallway was surprisingly empty as the teen wandered down in, looking through the windows of every room as he looked for his father.

“Dad?” Nothing.  Virgil took a deep breath as he turned down another hall, bare feet quiet on the cool floor.  

He was passing another door when a nurse came out, looking startled.  “Hey, what are you doing up little guy?”

Virgil tilted his head to the side.  “Looking for my dad, his name’s Logan Alt and people keep telling me he’s here but not where.”

The nurse’s face crumpled.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

…

Roman was finishing up with a patient when a scream rocked the floor that he was on, a horrible, heart wrenching thing that clearly communicated that whoever was the source was in pain.

He rushed out into the hall, looking for the source and seeing that one of his coworkers was trying to hold down a thrashing child as the kid screamed.

Not a child.

Virgil.

He must have found out about his father.  Roman hurried over to the other nurse and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“If you keep trying to hold him down, he could collapse a lung again.”

Virgil screamed again as the nurse let go and he curled up into a ball, still sobbing as the screaming died down.  Roman reached out a tentative hand to rest on Virgil’s collarbone.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”   Virgil yelled and Roman recoiled, an apology on his lips as he backtracked in his mind.

Virgil shuddered and let out another sob as a few more nurses entered the hall, seeing the three people on the ground.  Patton was among them and Roman watched as the teen’s eyes locked onto the nurse.

“You lied to me!  You said he was okay!”  Virgil struggled to sit up as he pointed.  “You said “You’ll be back to normal.”  and my dad’s dead now!”

Roman could feel the tension as if it was another person, and Patton’s eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry kiddo…”

“STOP!  I DON’T LIKE LIARS!!!”  Virgil screamed and then the solution to the problem practically slapped Roman in the face.

“Virgil.  Look at me.”

The teen let out a shuddering breath and turned his head to Roman, refusing eye contact.  Roman reached out his hands, keeping his palms up.

“We’re gonna count to ten, together okay?”

“I don’t want to…”

“Please?  We need to make sure that you can breathe.  I’ll start.  One.”

“Tt..two.”  Virgil stuttered out as gasping sobs ran through him.  Roman smiled softly.

“Good job.  Three.”

“Four.”

Virgil crawled a bit closer, still avoiding eye contact as he took more breaths.  “Five.”

“Six.”

Virgil placed his hands on top of Roman’s, looking at the wedding band that the man had on.  “Seven.”

“Almost there Virgil.  Eight.”

“Nine.”

“And ten.”  Roman exhaled and gently wrapped his hands around Virgil’s  “Can I help you walk back to your room, I don’t want you to get anymore hurt.”

“Okay…”

Roman helped him stand and then pulled the IV out of his arm carefully.  “Do you want me to hold your hand?”

“Yeah… Really tight though, please?”

“Of course.”  Roman tightly gripped Virgil’s hand.  “Any other touch no’s that we need to know?”

Virgil silently shook his head, and Roman noted that there were still tears streaming down his face as the nurse led him back to his room.  He helped him back into the bed and hooked him up.

“Did you get out yourself?”

“Yeah.”

Roman whistled.  “Impressive kiddo.”

“Don’t call me that.”  Virgil's voice was sharp and Roman nodded.  “It’s okay, I’m sorry.”

“Liar called me that, why did he lie to me?” Roman looked up to see that the teen was making eye contact, storm grey eyes filled with misery and hurt.

“I don’t think that Patton meant to hurt you Virgil.”

Virgil hissed and looked away again, starting to cry again.  “My dad’s not coming back…”

Roman finished with the replacement IV and reached forward to card a soothing hand through Virgil’s hair.  “I’ll make sure that you’re taken care of, promise.  I know that your dad can’t come back, but there’s a lot of people here that care about you.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

…

Emile and Remy both got calls from their husband that he wouldn’t be able to come home in time for the date and that he had something to discuss with them when he did.

Naturally both were concerned and waited up for Roman to return, which he did around eleven thirty, not surprised to see them both on the couch.

“Hey loves.”

“Is everything okay Ro?”  Remy asked as Roman sat down in the beanbag, instead of going to the couch.

“Not really.  Bad work stuff.”

“What happened?”  Emile said as he leaned forward and offered his husband a tissue.

“There was a bad car wreck yesterday night, father and son got plowed off of the road by a semi… Uh, the father died.”

Remy gasped and Roman sniffed, wiping at his tears.  “We were all trying to figure out how to tell him and he didn’t take it well.  I’ve never heard such a heartbreaking scream.  No relatives and he’s slightly autistic and I promised that I’d make sure he was safe. I can’t break that.”  Roman started to cry as Remy and Emile got off the couch, wrapping their husband in a hug as he sobbed.

“Hey, it’s okay.”  Remy soothed as he pressed a kiss to Roman’s hairline.  “We’ll do anything to help, okay?”

Emile nodded.  “If he needs a home, you know that we’ll give him the best one he can get.”

Roman let out a watery laugh.  “Seas and stars, I love you two so damn much.”

“I should hope so, you fucking married me.”  Remy responded.

…

Virgil hated change.

New house, new people feeding him and new smells hit him all at once when Roman finally said he could leave the hospital.

He didn’t like Patton still, but he promised not to hiss at the nurse when he came in anymore.

Some weird lady had led him out of the hospital, saying that she was part of the government and that Virgil could call her ‘mom’ if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

She had taken him to Dad’s and his house, and he had had an hour to pack all of his stuff.

Someone else would take Dad’s stuff, but Virgil had managed to take Dad’s favorite tie and his book collection with him.

Now he was sitting in the lady’s car as she chattered happily about something that he wasn’t paying attention to.

He wanted Dad.  Dad smelled like books and he let Virgil learn about stars and sailor culture, and taught him how to use rubix cubes.

But Dad wasn’t an option anymore.  The lady had told Virgil that there was gonna be a funeral on Saturday and then after that, he was going to meet his new family.

Virgil tucked his head against his chest and quietly let himself cry.

... Emile was nervous as he adjusted his tie and sweater again, looking at the door.

“Babes, con calma, they’re not going to be here for at least another ten minutes.”

It was Saturday afternoon and Roman had gotten a call that Virgil would be arriving with a social worker within the hour and so Emile had made sure that everything was as calming as it could be.

The poor kid, having to go to a funeral and then change houses all in the same day.

There was a knock and Emile surged forward, pausing before he could fling the door open.

“Ro, they’re here!”

“Okay! I’m coming down!” Emile opened the door to see the social worker, with Virgil behind her, slouched over as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible.

“Roman?”  The social worker grinned and Emile let out a nervous laugh.

“Ah no, that’s my husband.  I’m Emile.”

“My apologies.  May we come in?”

Emile turned to the side and let them in, smiling softly at Virgil, who pointedly looked away after making eye contact.

“Roman?”

“Nah, I’m Remy, Roman’s other spouse.  Take a seat on the couch, Roman will be down in a minute.”

Virgil didn’t sit and Emile sat next to Remy as Roman came downstairs, beaming at Virgil.

“Spiderling!”  

Much to the shock of the social worker, Virgil set down his back pack and walked over to Roman, holding up his arms.   The nurse picked up the fourteen year old with ease and hugged him tight.

“I missed you.”

“It’s only been five days, seven hours and thirteen minutes.”  Virgil said back as Roman put him down, although he still clung close.

The social worker cleared her throat.  “You three just need to sign a few papers and then I’ll do monthly check ups to make sure you’re fit to be parents.”

“Thank you.”

…

It wasn’t perfect.

Virgil still held a lot of trauma from what had happened and he had to go to a therapist that wasn’t Emile so that it would be more effective.

But Roman would always admit to crying the first time that Virgil called him Dad.  And even though it was mutually agreed that Logan was always going to be Virgil’s real dad and that he wouldn’t have to feel obligated to call any of his adopted parents that, somehow, over the course of the next year, Virgil warmed up to them.

There were always bad times, and they stopped celebrating Christmas, due to the time of year that the accident happened, but they always made it through.

Remy ended up teaching Virgil about latte art, which became a heavy fixation of their son’s, leading to lots of coffees with too much cinnamon when he messed up, or the most glorious cup you had ever seen depending on if it went well.

Emile and Virgil bonded over Saturday morning cartoons and sugary cereal, and he was the first one that Virgil accidentally called Mom.

Emile liked it and so it stuck.

Roman was the one who spent the most time with Virgil and as the teen grew up, he was grateful to have someone that had spent the time to find out everything he could about Logan, making sure that his Dad wasn’t ever forgotten.  Roman never broke his promise.

He kept Virgil safe.

[kaioken16]

Unspoken Affection

Mallek Week 2021 - Day 3

Day 3: AU day (Bloodswap AU) Word count: 2544 Rating: Teens and Up Character(s): Mallek Adalov, Original Character, Diemen Xicali

AO3 link

A/N: This is a sequel to a entry I wrote for last year’s Mallek Week titled ‘Friend or Foe’ for a purple blood!Mallek and my OC, you can read it here.  CW: mentions of blood, injury, violence, and death.  (side note, the bold text are flashbacks scenes.)

Summary: Mallek smiles as he watches him, lost in his thoughts as he comes to a conclusion regarding the human that had been under his care for the last year...

You sit there on your couch, you feel a sense of content as you were always relaxed around these two. After all, you knew you didn’t have to put a front or a shield around them as opposed to the rest of your crew.

You can’t help but stare at them from the corner of your eyes. Zack was cleaning a nasty cut that Diemen got earlier after a fall, your friend was always durable but he wasn’t invincible. And of course, the human’s medical care always overtook everything and he insisted that he clean and wrap up the wound.

He was applying some kind of ointment that he made from a plant that grew far off in the outglut. As you know at least 68% of Alternia’s plantlife was lethal in one way or another from poisonous to literal troll-eating traps. But this plant secreted a fluid that had something Zack called ‘antiseptic’ properties and so he used one of his strange alien tools to combine the fluid with some sopor slime to make this special formula which was perfect for cuts and wounds.

It was great. But it stings like the acid rain that falls over Alternia or getting attacked by wasp lusii.

“Ah!” Diemen flinches when the other presses the cloth dipped in the solution against Diemen’s cut.

“Stop squirming, or I’ll have to start all over again.” He tells Diemen, as Zack carefully cleans the wound, the piece of cotton fabric was soaking up the dark crimson.

“You don’t gotta worry about it-!” He let out another yelp in pain. You can’t help but smile. Not that you were smiling at the sounds of Diemen’s pain but rather just happy…

You’re happy to be around them.

Things had been crazy since you met Zack last sweep.

That chance encounter where you saved him from those rival subjugglators. From that point on you were inseparable, what was supposed to be a few days turned to weeks, then months. He was something different, obviously being an alien had that glamour to it. All trolls were different too, but also similar at the same time, but Zack wasn’t a troll…

Everything about him was foreign, his appearance, his nature. There probably wasn’t another like him anywhere else on Alternia. He was a curious being to you, yeah he bled a candy red blood, but aside from that, he had many interesting qualities.

He was strong but fragile.

You knew that it would take little effort from someone of your build to crush him with their bare hands, and he knew that too, and yet… How many times did he throw himself into harm’s way to protect you or Diemen and a complete stranger? Even when the odds were stacked against him.

But you knew that his strength was beyond just the physical sense, he had the strength of heart. He was so compassionate, kind, fierce, brave. Even when he was scared, like genuinely terrified he was honest about it.

Sometimes when you look at him, you would honestly see like some fragile lost purrbeast. Those big yellow eyes filled with such pure innocence, he’s the kind of guy that would be an enemy even after they tried to kill him. Someone like him would never have lasted this long on Alternia without you. So you took some precautions when he had to venture outside…

Zack was sitting on the couch, and Mallek was knelt in front of him, on the ground beside him was a small makeup kit that he and many other subjugglators used for their face paint.  

He had carefully painted the unique pattern worn by him and members of his crew. Mallek had gotten some of the old clothes that he simply outgrew, a hoodie that originally has his sign but he graffitied it with various art and tags used by his gang, some purple jeans, and plain white trainers.

It wasn’t too big or Zack too tight, but it kinda hung off him in a cute way. He had also given him some purple gloves, and finally, a bandana that was gonna wrap around Zack’s face.

“Alright, just one last final detail…” Mallek says as he grabs a set of fake detailed horns, curved shaped and wielded to a band, that only had a strap on the end to tighten. He then carefully puts around Zack’s head and clicks the lock-in.

He pulls the hood over Zack’s head and voila!

“There... all done. Now, all we gotta do is get something to hide your face, and then you’re good to go.” Mallek smiles, admiring his handiwork, he grabs a mirror to let Zack see.

“Cool, I could definitely pass for a troll dressed as a clown.” Zack was impressed, it was perfect, between only being able to go outside at night, and most purplebloods always wearing this paint, he could pass as one of them.

“Yeah. But still the same rule. You stay right beside me, don’t leave my sight, or don’t go out alone.” Mallek was very clear as it was still risky for Zack to go out by himself at least with this clothing he’s covered up completely and if he should somehow bleed the red will be hidden.

“Okay. Makes sense, I won’t leave your side.” Zack nods as Mallek blushes faintly.

“R-right, let's cover your face up.” He looks around until his eyes land on the fresh purple fabric that was a custom order from a friend, it was worn by a few crew members and would wear it sometimes. He wraps it around the human’s face, tying a knot at the back.

That was a clever idea on your part, and so far now has caught on, you were careful when taking Zack outdoors. It was a pain and sometimes you thought it could be frustrating for him, but it was for his own good and he understood that too.

Because let’s be honest you know that on his own he would last about an hour or so. And that’s if he laid low and avoided others. You really don’t know what possessed you to keep him, after saving him and giving him a place to crash for a couple of days you could’ve easily let him go on his way. But no.

You told him he could stay for as long as he needed. Obviously, he was intimidated by you, but you couldn’t really blame him. Look at you, you stood a glorious 8ft tall, between your aggressive clothing, intimidating face paint, and the fact that you were armed to literal teeth. It was no wonder he was initially wary of you.

But he wasn’t afraid of you. More like he stared at you with awe and it was due to the fact that your appearance didn’t match your personality after all. You had been affectionately referred to by many who got to know you on a personal level as the most calm-headed, least murderous purpleblood.

You had always had control of the raging seas that inside of you, in fact, that’s what made you more dangerous. Controlled rage was more effective and wild, you know exactly how to inflict the right amount of pain and how to swiftly deal with your opponent.

Taking a life wasn’t something that you were familiar with.

But Zack… He wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Not to say that he couldn’t fight and that he couldn’t kill someone, especially with those freaky powers of his. It’s that he wouldn’t kill or even like to fight for that matter.

Those hands of his… They were made to help, to care for, loving hands that always soothed you and anyone else they touched.

Your hands… You’ve inflicted pain, they’ve been stained with blood, bruised from throwing punches You were no stranger to violence after all.

Zack was worried, it had been so long since Mallek left to deal with “business” as he called it. Of course, Zack knew that was code for his gang’s activity or dealing with a dispute with another gang. Normally when Mallek left he would come back in a couple of hours, with a few cuts and a hoodie stained with blood that wasn’t his own.

But it had been at least 6 hours since he left and he hadn't messaged in that time and he always checked in with Zack. He was so tempted to go out and look for him, but where would he look? Besides, it was dangerous to go out without his disguise but Zack wasn’t ready to waste time getting that all together.

He’s standing in front of the door, the only thing between him and the outside. His hand reached for the handle, it was a very foolish, dangerous move he was about to make, but he was gonna do it anyway. He couldn’t stand around and just do nothing. Suddenly he grips the handle and pulls it open, and waiting for him on the other side was Mallek!

He stood there, his clothing torn apart, stained by blood, his face was bloody and fresh with bruises and cuts, purple trickling down his lip. He looks like hell as Zack just stands there staring at him, the purpleblood just looks at him but then starts to sway his body, taking a single step as he then collapses onto Zack who manages to catch him. “Mallek! H-hey! Mallek?!” Zack cries out to him but it’s no use as he’s already passed out.

Zack somehow managed to get Mallek to the couch, thankfully he was still breathing, just unconscious. Thankfully he didn’t have any serious wounds, and he knows that he’ll be okay, he could heal from this. And yet, that didn’t ease his heart, he feels so helpless as Mallek lays there, so all you can do is just sit there, holding his hand tightly until he wakes up.

...

“I don’t like fighting, or hurting someone… But I get it. Here is your world, it’s kill or be killed, death and violence are the norms here.” Zack sighs, before looking over to Mallek.

“And you, every day you have to face death, from the drones to other trolls, the climate!” Mallek knows this all, of course, it wasn’t news to him after all, it was just the way of things.

“Yeah, this place is designed to make monsters… Not enough good people, or people living in fear of accepting it. Survival of the fittest and all that nonsense. But you don’t gotta worry about it… We’re all used to it, we were born in it.”

The human’s expression dampens, it bothers him how much Mallek was just okay with all this. “I’m sorry. But I can’t accept it. I wish I could do more… If there was more I could for you, and the others.”

Mallek just stares at him, he doesn’t say anything at first. He chuckles. “You don’t have to apologize. This has nothing to do with you, it wasn’t your fault our world is like this.”

“It’s very cute…” He smiles at Zack, gently touching his forehead. His action causes a reaction from Zack making his cheeks heat up, darkening with a shade of blush.

Maybe human beings as a whole were cute, but truthfully it was more so your own biased feelings towards him. But after that incident and then the conversation between you two all those months ago, you came to the decision to ensure that the ugliness of violence, bloodshed, and death would never reflect through his eyes. Though that was easier said than done, being the leader of a gang, and constantly fighting after subjugglators for territory and drone attacks.

You know that there were those who couldn’t be reasoned with, if they learned of Zack’s existence, he would be hunted for his blood color by various trolls for many gruesome purposes. And he was precious to you, important and you would protect him, along with all those who you cherished. No matter what.

“There, all done.” Zack finishes wrapping the bandages around Diemen’s arm, the shortest of the three examines with his arm before smiling at the human.

“Gee thanks.” Diemen spreads his fingers around, shaking his arm slightly.

“Try to be more careful in the future.” Zack instructs Diemen who is just rubbing his bandages a little, Zack then holds out his fist and Diemen responds appropriately as they bump fists.

Another grin spreads across your face. Diemen then runs off, something about getting some food and that he would be right back. And you know by the food he meant nothing but hot dogs. Now it’s just the two of you, and Zack then glances over to you and notices you smiling, and returns the expression. He then approaches you, and sits beside you on the couch, instinctively you pull him close, throwing your arm around him.

He closes his eyes, a warm smile. Since you were sure that Diemen was gone, and it was just the two of you, you then pull Zack up onto your lap, his arms wrap around your neck, his head against your chest. You enjoyed having him close to you, it was mutually comforting to the both of you, he had told you that he always felt safe like this, from that first meeting when you literally picked off the ground and carried him home with him.

“Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.” He asks you, his voice was a little slow, peaceful even.

“I’m okay. Just thinking about stuff, no need to worry.” You reply back to him, speaking in a soft, hush tone.

“If you say so.” Zack responds, he was probably trying not to pry you think, but you know that he tends to worry.

“You know… The chances are that Diemen will probably get another random injury within the next few days right?” You make a joke at the expense of Diemen’s usual careless nature when it came to him getting minor injuries or just getting into trouble.

“Ha. Yeah… I figured as much.” Zack chuckles.

You look at him, giving him a little squeeze. “Yeah, but still I know it’s pointless to tell you not to, you always treat mine, Diemen, and some of the guys when we get injured whether from an accident or fighting some assholes. And that’s who you are.”

That was one of the many things that you loved about Zack. His kind nature, the way he cared for everyone, it was such a warm feeling, a light that welcomed everyone he interacted with. Maybe that was the reason you were so set on protecting him, driven by this need to keep him safe and ensure that while remains with you that no harm would come to him.

You got lost in your thoughts again, and you look down to see that Zack has fallen asleep on you. You can feel your face warm up with blush when he nuzzles against your chest. Seriously, this was adding more to your theory on the cuteness of humans, but honestly, it was more that you found him so cute. You smile, gently stroking his hair with your claws, laying back on the couch to get more comfortable.

[mellifluoushood]

Into The Dark - C.H. AU [Chapter 1]

A/N: Hello and welcome to my first series! This is an alternative universe with Calum Hood as a tattoo artist. Inspired by the thought of Calum with a nose ring, this is what happened. Thank you to @calumscalm​ @toofadedtofight​ and @dukehoods​ for helping me iron this idea out! Moodboard credit to @ammwritings​ !! Thank you so much!! xx Synopsis: Full-time college student, Seraphina Sallow, works as a receptionist for world-famous tattoo artist, Calum Hood. Their friendship blossomed when she wrote an article about his tattoo parlour, Fallen Angel Tattoos, for a journalism project at school. Since then, she’s been working as a receptionist at his parlour to put herself through school. As college tuition increases and her social security checks get smaller, she’s beginning to struggle to keep up with her payments. And then, a fallen angel shows up in the parlour, offering her the solution to all of her problems. But, at what cost? (TEASER) Genre (this chapter is): angst / fluff / smut / normal Warning: heavy mentions of drug use (smoking weed), strong language, weapons (firearms) Taglist: @calumscalm @gigglyirwin @ammwritings @loveroflrh @dukehoods @toofadedtofight @babylon-corgis​

Her giggles bounce off the black walls in the parlour. It doesn’t quite harmonise with the sound of the tattoo gun buzzing along a client’s skin, but it doesn’t sound out of place. At least not to Calum. The laughing and snorts have become a regularity in his shop. It had started as a quiet shop, the only noise coming from a playlist he made weekly and the occasional small talk clients would make with him. But, her laughing bounced through the door one day, alighting the energy of the parlour with something lighter, happier.

Calum remembers the day as if it were yesterday. He had finished a tattoo, sanitising the skin and wrapping it with Saniderm when the silence was broken by the sound of the bell ringing above the door, followed by an eruption of giggles and an, ‘I’m here, I’ll call after I’m done.’. His eyes had rolled as he muttered a ‘finished’ to the customer before standing up and walking to the front desk. There stood a woman, a little younger than him, searching her large tote bag for something.

“Can I help you?” Calum deadpanned, looking at the woman whilst taking money from the customer. He knew he was being rude to both the customer and the woman, but the customer had been asking him questions the entirety of the tattoo and the woman was too cheerful to be in a dark, quiet parlour.

“Oh, yes, I’m here for...” she pulls out a small notebook and a recorder, flipping open the cover and looking at the name, “Calum Hood. I’m Seraphina Sallows, I have an interview with him.”

“That’s me,” Calum raises his eyebrows, a little irritated this reporter hadn’t bothered to look him up, or even know his name when she stepped into the parlour.

“Oh, hello,” she smiles. She extends her hand. Calum doesn’t take it. Instead, he walks from the front desk and to his station. Seraphina purses her lips but follows him. He sits on the tattoo chair, waving her to sit in the spinning chair he usually sat in. She sat quietly, unsure of how to act around him. Her smile tended to put her interviewees at ease, but instead, it seemed to make Calum more jaded, tenser. 

When she sat down, he looked at her from head to toe. Besides from her smile and laugh, she didn’t exactly scream ‘bright’. She had dark brown, curly hair with a straightened fringe hanging just over her groomed eyebrows. Her eyes were a dark shade of brown, much like dark chocolate that seemed to sparkle in the fluorescent lighting. Calum thought he saw hints of green around her iris’s perimeter. She had olive skin that was tanned, covered in small handwriting tattoos. A few rings decorated her fingers that gripped a black pen, notebook open in her lap to jot down notes. She wore an oversized shirt that hung over what he presumed were shorts. He could see scattered tattoos along her thighs and calves. The only thing bright about her was her teeth that gleamed whenever she braced her pearly whites. Through the fabric of her shirt, he could see a navel piercing. He noted the nose ring on the right side of her nose. The only thing bright about Seraphina was her name, her smile, her teeth and her voice.

As the interview went on, he had noted her morbid sense of humour and lack of optimism about her future, even though she was in college. Her voice was light, resonating just the right tone in her chest for her 5-foot 2-inch stature. He was intrigued, to say the least. He wondered why she put off such a happy persona when she very clearly was not happy.

Since then, he’s learned that she is happy. She’s happy in her own way. Calum couldn’t describe it to anyone if they ever asked, he had never been the best with his words.

“You done, Miss Slap Happy?” Calum questions, walking in from his station to say goodbye to his client. He barely acknowledges the client once his eyes land on Seraphina.

“Done with what?” She rolls her eyes at him, giving the client a gleaming smile and announcing the total. Along with the tip, Calum had made good money off this customer. 

“Done with being annoying,” Calum deadpans as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She rolls her eyes at him once more. It’s all she ever seemed to do around him. Except for smile. She smiled around him a lot.

“You’re one to talk, Mister Grumpy,” Seraphina uses a baby voice at the end. Calum just nods at his client before returning to his station to sanitise it before close. Seraphina follows the customer to the door, thanking him for his business and locking the glass door once he’s left. She can hear the sound of the spray bottle along with the squeaking of the paper towel rubbing along the metal rolling table and leather of the tattoo chair as she approaches his work station.

“Are we still on for drinks?” Calum asks, referring to their Friday night ritual. Drinks at Steve’s before either going home or hopping over to a club for more overpriced drinks. She quickly turns around, trying to conceal the guilt on her face,

“I can’t, I thought I told you last week,” she frowns, her attempt at sounding genuine quite feeble as she turns off the computer. Calum rounds his corner from his station, furrowing his brows.

“No?” His voice has an edge to it. He notices the way she swallows before replying to him, 

“I have plans,” she simply states, not willing to share what she was up to. Calum makes a face,

“Care to elaborate?”

“It’s not important,” she shrugs, trying to conceal the lie. Calum picks up on the way that she tried to lighten the tone, but there was something underneath her words that poke at Calum. 

“Whatever,” it’s his turn to roll his eyes. She looks down at the desk, biting at her lip when her phone vibrates in her pocket. She quickly fumbles for it, reading the address from a blocked number before shoving it back in her shorts. Calum watches as her facial features fell at the sight of whoever texted her. He could see the way her eyes had begun to develop small drops of something that he didn’t recognise. He had never seen that look in her eyes before.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Seraphina shrugs off Calum’s attitude, a fake smile winding its way up to the corners of her mouth. Calum scoffs before turning on his heel, unlocking the front door and slamming it behind him. 

She flinches at the sound of the metal edges hitting the doorframe, her own heart seeming to flinch at Calum’s mood. She pulls out her phone, texting an ‘on my way’ before collecting her bag and leaving the shop, locking the door behind her. 

She looks down either side of the sidewalk, turning left and finding her car parked on the side of the road. The old, beat-up Corolla was on its last leg, but she simply didn’t have it in her to buy another car. And neither did her bank account. She unlocked the door, the dark blue showing a few scratches around the handle, looking to her left and right again, before getting in. It’s stuffy and warm, the upholstery absorbing all of the heat from sitting outside all day. She starts the engine, quickly peeling out of the parking spot before heading for the address.

She looks at the abandoned building. Its grey walls are tagged with graffiti, that begin to cover the boarded-up windows. She notices the broken beer bottles in front of the door. She doesn’t see anyone outside. She pulls out her phone before sending Calum a quick, ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t make it tonight.’ He sees her message almost immediately, leaving the words ‘Read 19:57′ under the blue box. She sighs, pulling her hair out its bun and her fingers along her scalp. She looks up again, jumping at the sight of a man appearing at the entrance of the building. 

She turns off the engine of her car, stepping out, looking left and right again, before shutting the door and locking it. She walks around the hood, tucking her hands across her chest as she approaches the man in front of the door. She recognises him as the client she had spoken to earlier in the day,

“Roy,” she nods her head at him. He smiles at her,

“Seraphina, I’m glad you could make it.” She stands in front of him, planting herself a few feet away from him, “I didn’t know if you’d take me up on my offer.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs. Her voice is no longer bright and her teeth no longer shine. Roy is smiling as if this is completely normal for him.

“Alright, let’s get started. You’re going to need this,” he reaches underneath his shirt and produces a handgun. It looks heavy as he holds it, “A Glock 19. Best for beginners,” he holds the barrel of the gun, handing her the grip. She doesn’t take it immediately. She simply stares, watching as the black shines under the street light a few feet from where they’re standing. She looks to her left and right again, looking for any sign of a security camera or cars passing by. 

“Go on, it isn’t gonna bite,” he jokes. Her brown eyes look back at him and she swallows, hard. Uncrossing her arms, she reaches for the gun, slowly. When she grasps her hand around the grip and looks at Roy for further instruction. He releases the gun and it’s heavier than she anticipates. She catches it before she loses her grasp and it clatters to the ground.

“The safety is right next to the trigger. You take that off when you wanna shoot it, otherwise, it’s best if you keep it on. You cock the gun by moving the slide back. Make sure you have the safety off when you do that so you’re prepared to shoot if you need to,” he points to the spots on the gun. She barely absorbs his words as the heavy piece of metal shines back at her, almost as it’s taunting her.

She swallows again, nodding and looking up at Roy. She shakily checks to see if the safety is on before stuffing it in the band of her shorts. It feels stiff against her bare thigh, the metal a shocking cold. The cold always used to reboot her system when she was in shock. This kind of cold, only made it worse.

“You ready to meet the boss man?” Roy chuckles, leaning against the abandoned building and crossing his arms over his chest. She licks at her lips, using her front teeth to bite down on her lower lip. She shrugs nervously,

“I guess.”

Across town, Calum sits at the bar by himself. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t get his one night off. Saturdays, they opened the shop late, so he could be out till whenever he pleased on Friday nights. He had phoned Michael to join him. He didn’t want to drink alone tonight. When Michael walks through the entryway, he’s surprised that Calum’s alone at the bar. Michael approaches, slapping a hand on his tense shoulder,

“Hey, mate, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Calum mutters, sipping at his whiskey on the rocks.

“What crawled up your ass?” Michael takes a seat next to his friend, signalling the bartender for a cider.

“Nothing nice, I can tell you that,” Calum tries to joke, but his voice comes out more like a growl. 

“Where’s Seraphina?” His friend asks. Calum shoots him a look as if to say ‘don’t bother asking’, but Michael’s nosiness isn’t to be battled.

“I’ll ask again,” Calum turns his attention back to his whiskey, “Where’s Seraphina?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckles dryly, tossing back the glass. He gulps down the brown alcohol, no change in his facial expression, “Said she had ‘plans’.”

“And that was it?” Michael pushes.

“Yeah, Michael, that was it.” Calum snaps, flagging down the bartender for another whiskey. He was just starting to feel fuzzy, his stomach beginning to bubble with warmth, spreading a buzz throughout his blood. Michael sips at the bottle that had been placed in front of him, biting at his inner lip, trying to stop himself from asking more questions. Instead, he pulls out his phone, typing a quick, ‘Where are you?’ to Seraphina. 

Her phone buzzes in her pocket as she stands next to Roy. She swallows, ignoring it as the man approaches her. His bald head shines in the dim light of the seemingly abandoned building. There are few lights in the back room, barely illuminating his facial features. The only things she can notice about him is the hollowness of his face and the sharp bones protruding from his cheeks. He has something between a five o’clock shadow and scruff along his jaw and above his upper lip. His green eyes are piercing, taunting as they look her up and down.

“You’re Connor’s ex-girlfriend,” he states with an amused tone. She nods her head.

“Thought you broke up with him to get out of this mess,” he presses.

“Circumstances change,” her voice is quiet. The boss barks out a laugh, turning around to the beaten up table holding bags of lord knows what. She looks at his stained white wife-beater. It’s covered in smears of brown and red.

“Well, I’m glad to have you aboard,” he turns around to look at her, sitting on the edge of the table. His mouth widens into a smile, revealing teeth that hadn’t seen the inside of a dentist office in what looked like decades. She subconsciously runs her tongue along the front of her teeth, “A hot little piece of ass like you will be real’ good for business, real good.” He runs his eyes up and down her legs again. Seraphina swallows once more.

“What were you thinking of starting with? Just some bud, or were you looking to make a bit more?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I think you should go with more,” he reveals his teeth again in some form of a smile, “With you being in college and all, fending for yourself.” His words send a shiver down her spine. She suddenly feels hyper-aware of the piece that’s sitting on her left hip, the cold seemingly burning an imprint into her skin. The hair on the back of her neck stands up and she can feel the blood rush out of her face.

“O-okay,” she stutters. His smile goes wider,

“Let’s start you with some bud and some blow. Those are our best sellers, and I’m sure a lady like you won’t have a problem selling them.” She nods as he grabs plastic bags of white powder and green nuggets. She had seen this exchange plenty of times from a safe distance of a car parked across the street, the man hiding in the shadows, only hands holding bags visible in street lamps. She would watch as Connor looked left and right before taking the bags and stuffing them into his pockets. 

“This bag has three others inside of it; a twenty bag, a fifty bag and an ounce,” he hands her the weed. She takes it slowly, trying to stop the shaking of her hands, “This bag also has three: half a gram, gram and a ball. I’m assuming you know what those go for,” he raises his eyebrows at her. She nods slowly before taking the plastic bag in her free hand.

He turns around and sits at his table again, “Let me just make something clear. If you don’t sell it all, you pay me for it. If you sell it all and aren’t honest with how much you make, you will pay for it. If you take it and keep the money for yourself...” he chuckles. The warning bells in her skull begin to ding at a high rate, “Well, you can fill in the blanks.”

Michael checks his phone for the thirtieth time as it seems like Calum knocks back his fifth glass of whiskey. Calum stopped responding to Michael’s attempts at conversation around glass number three. He’s been sitting in silence, staring at the bar top in front of him, his fingers wrapped tightly around the glass. Michael’s about to open his mouth again when a voice interrupts them,

“Hey, guys,” Seraphina’s voice is breathless when she approaches the bar, smiling at the bartender and ordering her usual. She sits in the open seat to Calum’s right. He lifts his head to look at her for a moment, noticing the small sheen of sweat that had begun to accumulate on her hairline and the redness lingering in the whites of her eyes,

“You’re stoned.” He states, looking back at his whiskey, knocking it back once again. He signals for his sixth.

“No,” she chuckles, “Just warm.”

“Yeah, sure,” Calum scoffs, watching as the bartender switched out the empty glass in front of him for another full one.

“Anyway, how are you, Michael?” Her attention turns to his blonde friend. She directs her voice towards him, but her eyes scan Calum. His black nose ring his still snug against his nostril, his array of roses tattooed on his neck still there, his brown, curly hair resting on top of his head the way it normally does. He’s wearing the same black t-shirt he wore earlier. His eyes are still the same dark brown they’ve always been. She’s checking to see if he’s changed when the reality of the situation is that she has.

Michael’s voice begins to chatter on as Calum’s gaze wanders to Seraphina. Her shoulders are tensed, her posture straighter. And that’s when his eyes spot it. The barrel of a gun outlined in her jean shorts.

[curiousconch]

Escape

Chapter 8 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: Heather attempts to escape her captors. But will she succeed?

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.5k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / violence, language

Author's Notes: This chapter took me too long to complete, since I hit a creative block. Grateful for @eleanorbloom for giving me tips to overcome it (thank you! 🥰🥰🥰)

Thank you so much for taking time to read/comment/reblog this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC Jordan Anderson.

Heather held her tears at bay. Frankly, all she wanted was to let herself go.

But she can't. She didn't want to give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her break. When Declan Nash removed her blindfold, he thought it was enough to pulverize her will. Heather was determined to prove him wrong.

"I'll pick up the second dose. Start on getting rid of the pretty doctor first," she heard Nash say to the other man, right before he left.

She watched closely as another man approached her, his features slowly revealed by the dim light surrounding them. The hair at the back of her neck stood up when she recognized the face of her kidnapper.

Jordan Peter Anderson, the Edenbrook janitor. Pete, as he was mainly known.

Suddenly, it all made sense. That's how he had access to her things, how he can easily know her home address, her schedule, all details of her life without suspicion. He was just another face in the sea of people that came in and out of the hospital. A fairly common and trusted face, at that.

She just wondered how Declan was connected to him. She wanted so much to find out. But now, she had to focus on preventing herself from whimpering as Pete violently dragged her to sit on a chair. He tugged her wrists free before slamming them on a metal table. She instantly winced with the impact.

That was when she saw the back of her hand, where an IV cannula was attached to an exposed vein.

What the hell was he planning?

She found the answer sooner than she thought.

She followed his movement with her eyes as he picked up a syringe from a nearby table. It was filled with a clear liquid.

"I take it you're familiar with potassium chloride, Dr. Song?" The janitor sneered as she gazed in terror at what he was holding.

She knew. Potassium chloride overdose can cause cardiac arrest when administered via IV, and in overdose, was fatal. Her mind raced with comprehension.

He's out to kill. He's not going to spare me. This isn't just a game. Her mouth went dry, refusing to accept the possibility that she may not live another day.

Her hazel eyes can only stare at the man who was about to murder her. For a moment, she was filled with helplessness, the tiny semblance of hope in her quickly dwindling out.

No! I'll overcome this. This won't be the end of me. She willed herself to think. Heather Song is one hell of a woman and she won't come down without a fight.

When he was just a single step away from her, inspiration struck.

As he reached for her, she leaned her head back, waiting for the perfect timing. Once he was near enough, she braced for impact and gave him a headbutt. He fell down to the ground, howling in pain. Heather took the opportunity to flee, liberating herself from the chair.

As she tried to take off, a struggle ensued. She was instantly dragged backwards, the force nearly knocking her out. She felt a sharp prick on her neck before she turned and kicked the man on the groin.

He wailed. Heather didn't wait for him to recover and ran for her life, fear and desperation egging her on. Her bare feet heavily hit upon the concrete floor, as she removed the gag from her mouth.

"HELP! Someone, please help me!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, sprinting. Her bruised arms pushed back against the plastic tarps and navigated the narrow corridor blindly.

Soon, she saw an open threshold nearby. She decided to aim for it. When she was almost there, someone grabbed her from behind, making her scream. She strained to break free from the hold, only to be pulled back again.

"Heather," a voice urged. "Heather, it's me!"

She recognized the speaker, making her stop in her tracks. She turned around and looked back into the dark brown eyes of the man in front of her.

Rafael.

At the sight of him, an overwhelming sense of relief flooded her being. She leaned onto him, feeling his strong presence encapsulate her in a tight embrace.

As the panicked adrenaline to fight for her life slowly dissipated, a rush of tears stained Heather's cheeks like an overflowing dam. So she clung to him, convincing herself that she wasn't imagining him and that her whole ordeal has ended.

"It's okay, love. I'm here, you're safe." Raf whispered, his lips kissing the crown of her head.

But she wasn't.

She felt her knees begin to buckle, her whole body shook. There was a sharp pain in her chest, while her vision of Rafael slowly blurred.

The last thing she could remember was the gentleness of his touch, before her world whirled and faded into darkness.

***

He can only watch the helicopter that airlifted Heather to Edenbrook Hospital. When she was found, a syringe was stuck on her neck, and the paramedics suspected a type of poisoning. Her sudden collapse and the  unknown nature of what caused made the situation urgent, so the response team decided it was best course to fly. 

Even though he yearned to accompany her as she fought for her life, he was hastily denied that right. Rafael seized that away from him, taking it upon himself to stay with her instead.

He wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, to hold her hand, to assure her that she will never have to face horrors like this anymore. But fate wasn't on his side this time. It never was. 

So Bryce chose action. He first called in ahead to give Dr. Ramsey the few details they have on hand. He couldn't bring himself to follow her to the hospital. His mind dictated that he wasn't useful there. Instead, he made himself useful somewhere else. 

And there he was, standing in the middle of the crime scene as he hang up his phone. 

Here is where I can help Heather, he thought. I have to find what was in that syringe. It might be her only hope. 

His tired eyes scanned the floor, trying to pick up any detail that may be valuable. He walked around looking down, flashlight in hand, determined to find just about any kind of clue. 

He winced when he saw blood. Heather's. His chest tightened, anger rising within him. That fucking sicko, I swear I'm gonna give him hell. 

Bryce continued prodding around until he heard a soft jingling noise, making him stop. It felt like he just kicked something. He knelt down and found a torn plastic case and a clear glass bottle. He put on his rubber gloves and picked it up, reading the label. Realizing what it was, he quickly dialed Sienna's number and waited for her to pick up. 

"Bryce?" he heard a familiar voice on the line, but it wasn't Dr. Trinh. 

"Jackie?" he felt an immediate pang of worry, hearing the frantic exchange of voices in the background. But he quickly shook the feeling away. He had to focus.

"I found something that might help Heather. There's a bottle of potassium chloride where she was taken, it's empty. I think that's what the suspect injected Heather with."

"Gimme a second," Jackie said. Bryce waited as he listened to Dr. Varma ask for Heather's blood workup from a nurse. "Her potassium levels are elevated, and she's in cardiac arrest. This makes sense, Lahela." 

"She's in cardiac arrest?" A lump in his throat formed, his grip almost slipping from the bottle he was holding. 

"Yes. But we're trying to get her out of it. Your intel's gonna help us figure the rest out," Jackie said, and he sensed her hesitation before he heard her next words. "She'll pull through. So quit yapping and get your ass over here."

The line went dead. 

It took him five minutes to scale down the building, get into his car and hit the road.

***

The environment in the ER was charged by the frantic beeping of the machine, signalling Heather's ongoing cardiac arrest. 

"We've got suspected hyperkalemia," Jackie sprinted to the doctors surrounding Heather's limp body as she got off the phone. 

"Of course," Dr. Ramsey nodded, as he referred to the latest lab results. "A potassium chloride overdose would've caused her coronary infarction. It may have also caused her temporal paralysis, making her lose consciousness. Do we have her weight?" 

"Yes, Dr. Ramsey," Sienna dictated Heather's latest weight to the senior attending, allowing for him to compute for the correct dosage for the prescription. 

"Calcium bicarbonate for the IV, Kaley please," the male doctor handed a piece of paper where he scribbled the dosage needed. 

"Don't we need to do haemodialysis?" Jackie stood beside him, as she prepared a tourniquet and tried to find a vein where the saline solution can be injected. 

"No, we aren't too late, the potassium haven't bound to the cells yet. Watch out for other symptoms though," Like a well-oiled machine, Heather's mentor gave instructions rapidly, taking the lead role in her treatment. 

The nurse went back with the prescription and Jackie setup the insertion. As the liquid began to flow, they waited and watched the heart rate monitor overhead. 

It took a few seconds before the beeping slowed down into a steady rhythm. There was a collective sigh of relief.

Heather Song just narrowly escaped death. 

Tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[tonyglowheart]

Trying to semi-organize my thoughts on what exactly I am wanting out of spn fic and hm let's see. If I remember this post in the future, I may update it as I think of/on things and use this for reference so I, also, don't forget lol

Okay so, wants/likes:

Cas prominent. He is my, as I believe the kpop kids say, bias, so he is kind of non-negotiable. Sorry I am just not interested in fics where he is not prominent

Destiel not required but a good plus. Slight preference for intricate courtship rituals over ones where they figure things out ridiculously easy, unless it is established relationship. If the revelation comes too quick and easy then I get taken out of the moment :')

Optional: Angels treating Cas like their baby brother :3 Cas can be somewhat put out by it or not. Actually maybe bonus if he IS, bc they are all angels of the lord and relative by rank and experience, And Yet [whoever] just cannot help but be *points* Baby

canonverse is plus. canon divergence is okay but idk how close to canon I'm looking for, if it's too close to an episode rewrite I may not be into that either

casefics are cool. If it's got that canon-typical vaguely racist sht then pls warn me going in 😔

Found family. Family don't end in blood!!! Spn may forget this but I never will!!!

Any exploration of the whole fucky destiel thematic dichotomies, the whole free will vs destiny shit, stuff like words of prophets are written on subway walls, like.. idk, something that is intricate-rituals-gay and also makes me think of the philosophy of thehuman condition

corollary: slow burns ig?? or like mutual pining? canon typical thinking they are not worthy or that it is something they cannot have? canon typical did not realize until later but even then they have their individual canon-typical reasons for not acting on it, until they do bc it's fic so they can get together for realsies?

trope: Cas and/or Destiel being parents. I read one recently where it was like single dad Cas (to Claire and Jack) and then Dean came (back) into his life recently and I rly liked it

AUs are fine but highly subject to mood so we'll see. I did read a Star Trek-y AU I liked

I'm down for a lot of various other kinds of plot tropes and stuff, tho I want stuff that's more character and plot and less, like, pwp or fuck or die or that kinda thing

trope: curses maybe? I've found a couple curse-focused fics which were interesting

trope: Hurt/Comfort of the Cas whump kind but not necessarily have to be just Cas. But like.. u know when Uriel is beating him up and he looks all bloody and beautiful, or when he flexes his sexy angel powers and transports the Winchesters to the past but then collapses bc he overtaxed himself, or when he had that blanket on when he was suffering from the attack dog spell.... yeah,,,

trope: Anything with like the Winchesters caring about and caring for Cas. I just rly like Cas being taken care of :') pls wrap him in a blanket and pat his shoulder brusque-softly in ur emotionally repressed way Dean

bottom line my emphasis tends to be more on character and plot. I can't do plot without character, the relationships - whether ship or gen - are important to my enjoyment of a fic. I can sit thru a lot if the characters/character dynamics are good and chewy lmao like u can rly sink ur teeth into it

Bonus features:

eldritch horror angels are a bonus. Give me unfathomable trueform angels, I feel like I don't see that enough

wings* but.... caveat I like my spn wings more metaphysical than literal unless they're literal for a point, but this isn't set in stone either. I'm just... slightly tired of the physicality of the wings I guess. Like it's not the physicality that's the issue, ig, but when it's not treated as metaphysical (as well)

wouldn't mind some good endverse fics to chew on altho that might also make me sad

Cas being cute, a la crazy!Cas (who is.... so soft.... his innocence.. *clutches chest*) or like when Cas and Dean went to talk to that police guy and Cas was like you tell them it's angels and demons warring and he will tell you what he knows, or when Cas was like I'm gonna become a hunter :3, or interrogating the cat, or this is his serious face, yes

Powerful af Cas?? I miss season 4/5 Cas, when he was powerful and self-assured and wasn't "mentally deficient puppy" as Metatron meanly put it Cas. I feel like we get less of that as the seasons go on... I miss Cas being powerful and exuding energy that I'm sure is what had ppl assigning him as top energy. Like yes flex ur sexy sexy angel powers pls. There's one ep where my notes just say "ANGEL SMITE ANGEL SMITE / HEAAALING." Season 6 Cas where he is more out of touch with humanity and more brusque was also intriguing even tho he was like that bc of extenuating circumstances. But him flexing his sexy angel powers sure was sexy

Do not wants :(

Endgame human!Cas. Sorry I like short-lived Cassidy am more into feathered Cas than human!Cas. endgame human!Cas just isn't a good solution/happy ending to me, I don't think Cas needs to change to be able to live happily, and also I like to chew on the like philosophical underpinnings of an immortal/mortal pairing if that does get called into question lol

Human AU* but like asterisk bc I will take human AU if the plot is compelling and/or the characterization still manages to capture that je nais se quoi of canonverse. If they are, like, middle age dads being domestic, as an example, tho, then I can probs do that, I just like.. have limited capacity for career-based AUs for the sake of it, if that makes sense... But character/character dynamics trumps all, like I said lmao.. I've sat thru scenarios/setups that lowkey dealt me psychic damage bc of the nature of the set dressing, bc I checked it out out of morbid curiosity but the way they did the characterization ended up working for me

A/B/O - I am not seeking A/B/O at the moment

Hurt no Comfort - it would make me too sad :(

fics that treat angels like literal physical feathered beings. Idk I just like... want the whole angel thing to be treated more metaphysically. They are multidimensional wavelengths of celestial intent in holy corporate/business attire visages but they are still very much multidimensional wavelengths of celestial intent the ballpark size of our Chrysler building. If the wings are treated too literally I find I start getting bored, ironically. This is ironic bc I'm a slut for wingfic. But with spn I find that a conventional kind of wingfic/angel conception where the wings are just limbs with maybe some slight handwaved dimension-shifting stowing is.. slightly passe for my tastes. Unless it's like a forced manifestation or sth. Just like.. get the metaphysics involved, tie it to angelic grace. Something. Make is racy. But not too racy, the whole wings-as-erogenous-zones thing I'm a bit over too, xenobiology to humans would just be biology to these beings, it doesn't make sense to me to be like "oh they have a tail and it's EXTRA sensitive," like are you suggesting your arm/armpit is an extra special species-typical erogenous zone too?

deaging unless it ties to some other kinda plotty deal somehow ig? Like... I got invested in this fandom for them as they are now I'm not too interesting in unseasoned nibling vers

this maybe goes with the human aus tho that's a slight asterisk but hard line no high school aus. pls I cannot take the psychic damage that would deal to me personal

I have no conclusion even tho I feel like I need one. here's wonderwall? ig I can stumble around looking for reclists and see if anything sticks out, trawling thru tags so far has been a mixed bag

Anyway haha lol, stand-up-style-tone I mean I'm not asking for a lot amirite. Just a nebulously specific set of intricate rituals wrapped around a plot and also found family or something, like you know, just a trifling

[cucuxumusu]

Cheeky Intruders by MagellanicClouds

(29k | Teen and Up | Complete)

Ex-Espada Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is just trying to live a quiet life as a motorbike mechanic far away from the eyes of Aizen and the Las Noches Corporation. Unfortunately, the determinedly friendly freedom fighter who smashed his way through his garage’s windows can’t seem to take the hint.  

Cyberpunk at it’s finest with that blade-runner vibes. Cats and cat cafes which are always a plus. Mature and cool Ichigo who wants revolution, and a Grimmjow too tired of the drama.

Unexplored Worlds by ShadowThorne

(18k | Mature | Complete)

Set in the future, a young field biologist gets the opportunity of a lifetime and a chance to explore a new planet. Little does he know, what awaits is more than he expected in a world not meant for humans as his dreams are shattered and rebuilt.

Just awesome. One of those sci-fy fics with horror and creepy vibes. Humans think they are better, but they actually aren’t. Cool alien Grimmjow you don’t know if you can trust. Ichigo is constatnly on the verge of dying.

Repeat the Discovery by Depressed_Lemon_Bite

(12k | Explicit | Complete)

“You are my t’hy’la, Captain. You always have been. From the moment you entered my life to the moment I take my last breath, that feeling will follow me even beyond the grave.” “I’m…I’m your what?” Ichigo began, frowning softly and licking his lips, “Thigh-what?” “T’hy’la,” Grimmjow corrected, the arms folded behind his back being clawed by his antsy hands, “T’hy’la is…the only thing in my culture that I take seriously. It’s a word used to describe…a very important person. It has three meanings: friend, brother…and lover.”

What’s a sci-fy fic’s list without the Star Trek AU. IchiGrimm. Grimmjow has a hand kink, he is also Vulcan and a mess with feels. Sweet smut. Kind Ichigo.

The Forest by BleachFox

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When the surface world was destroyed by toxic chemicals, the PEACE Project began. Their job? To restore the Earth’s atmosphere. Decades later however, no progress has been made and humanity is nearing it’s end. So they activated the ROOT Program, leaving humanity’s greatest mind in the hands of their AI in the hopes the solution would be found. 

Sci-fy thriller. If you have watched “I am Mother” this one starts with the same premise of apocalipse and world destruction. Short and bitter-sweet.

Counterfeit Wings by ShadowThorne

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Far in the future, humanity has outgrown its bounds. Becoming obsolete, the earth is slowly dying as we forget what solid ground looks like. Not everyone has forgotten though, and curiosity can be a beautiful thing. Two young men as different as earth and sky refuse to let the creations of society stand between them and what makes them happy. GrimmIchi.

Like all of Shadow’s fic, awesome worldbuilding that entralls you. Huge social diferences that need to be overcome. The kind of fluff that makes you cry. Let them be together!

Bloodsport by Asuka Kureru (Askerian)

(21k | Explicit | Non-Complete)

“Heeeey. I’d recognize that hair anywhere. Ain’t you the fucker who keeps cockblocking my shots?” The last place Ichigo wanted to hear about his hair was in an alien forest on an alien planet in the middle of a quote-unquote “polite” standoff with an Arrancar hunter squad, and the last fucking person he wanted to hear it from was some asshole with hair as vividly blue as his own was orange. He said nothing, though. Fourteen months under Captain Quilge Opie of the First Jagdarmee Regiment had broken him of opening his mouth unless addressed by a superior, and the Arrancar wasn’t that.

Military Sci-fy + psy powers + alien forms. Read the damn tags before reading. Kinky smut. A bit wild but interesting. Aizen enjoing science. Enemies to enemies. Forget the love in this one XD

Earth Renewal by Cucuxumusu

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After years of surviving alone among wild breath-taking nature, Ichigo finds himself persecuted by an Arrancar, one of the creatures who had enslaved humanity and destroyed civilization. The hunt had already been going on for a month, but Ichigo know his tricks have a limit and he needs a new tactic to get rid of the handsome monster. But why is this one blue-haired man so obsessed with capturing him? Will he ever find out why Arrancars had invaded Earth?

Shameless self-promotion, so I��m not gonna say anything XD