#'i got so high in the operating room before my sex change i thought i was a biblically accurate angel made out of barbie doll parts'

[bazpitch]

mosquito: a memoir by felix lecocq (x)

[she-karev]

Signs and Secrets

Chapter: One of Two

Age Rating: 12+

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

AN: Hey guys this chapter will take place in season 14 episode 7 of Grey’s Anatomy. This chapter will feature deaf representation and Amber will use ASL as she talks to a patient. I cast the magnificent Millicent Simmonds as the patient.

Summary: Amber works at the clinic when a roller coaster crashed while her intern friends gossip and speculate over who she’s dating.

Words: 5097

I lie in bed feeling rested as I wake up to the feeling of an arm wrapping itself around my torso. I grin at the feeling because I spent the night at DeLuca’s place and we kept each other company all night long. After karaoke last night, I drove to DeLuca’s place after he left the bar so we wouldn’t raise suspicion. I arrived and we spent the night watching Grease on a laptop in bed and I sang the lyrics as the scenes played. Andrew found it hilarious at first and then he just gazed at me like he was at an Adele concert. The crazy thing is the night was great even without sex.

We just talked and laughed and sang and we had our clothes on the whole time. Most of my other relationships ended the day in sex but this one ended with us in bed fully clothes and holding each other. I never liked being the little spoon because it makes me physically hot and I wake up sweaty but I didn’t wake up sweaty I woke up happy. I turn my head over my shoulder and grin at DeLuca as he kisses my cheek.

“Good morning.”

I moan sleepily, “It is now. Morning.” Andrew kisses me and I happily kiss back before pulling back and turning on my phone. I groan at the time, “We gotta get to work. You’ll be assisting and I’ll be delivering lab results. I am a freaking office worker.” Andrew chuckles at my bitterness and I continue, “If I wanted to deliver papers, I would have rejected college and go straight to a paper making business. I actually considered that, I thought college was pointless and look it was.”

“It’s all part of the job you have to work your way up and prove you belong in an O.R.” He strokes my arm, “I should know I’ve got two years on you just push through it.”

Andrews kisses my shoulder but I’m still peeved even when he’s being sweet, “You know I was salutatorian in high school, I have an honors degree from Iowa State and top of my class at NYU. All I’ve done is push through crap just so I can get this spot and yet the closest to a body I’ve seen is yours and it wasn’t to operate.”

“It would be alarming if you did.” Andrew chuckles but I glare at him for joking when I’m frustrated, “I can see you’re upset how about I pick up some breakfast for us on the way? There’s a café on the way that serves the best egg muffins.”

“As tasty as that sounds why don’t we just make some actual eggs here instead of wasting money?” Andrew has made it his mission to leave right after our alarms go off and it’s making me curious, “What are you hiding DeLuca? Do you have another intern in another guest room waiting for you?”

We both chuckle, “No I wish.” I stop laughing and glare at him and he realizes what he said, “That’s not what I meant I swear. It’s just my sister could be out there with Dr. Hunt and the first time you met her she was half naked and I don’t want to repeat that.”

I look at him confused over Carina’s change in sex partners, “I thought she was with Dr. Robbins?”

Andrew clicks his tongue and has an annoyed look, “Yeah, she was but Arizona wanted a break to focus on her daughter and Carina’s focus shifted from her to Hunt. So that’s two roommates my sister has slept with since she got here.” I look at him in shock before laughing at his family dilemma and he chuckles bitterly, “I’m glad my misery is so amusing to you, you can get dressed and get out.”

I know he’s not serious but I want to rectify, “No come on I’m just playing with you. At least now I see why you wanted to spend the night at my place even though you almost broke your ankle because the walls are so close to the bed.”

Andrew chuckles, “Yeah and it’s kind of degrading that an intern has her own place before me. How did you manage that?”

“I’m a low maintenance person, I don’t need a lot of closet space and I can do wonders with a stove and no oven.” The studio apartment I’m renting doesn’t have an oven so my dinner is mostly mac and cheese, ramen, rice or boiled chicken. It’s not exactly gourmet but it keeps me alive and I have a fridge for the fruit and vegetables.

“Well, we should get going, the Harper Avery’s are on tonight and I don’t want to miss it.”

My eyes lit up, “Oh yeah! Grey is gonna win I mean come on how can she not but your right we should go my friends did the night shift after Joe’s so I have a sleep advantage today.”

Andrew looks at me in mild surprise, “Did you just call the interns your friends? The same interns you called what was it? Oh yeah ‘examples of the millennial generation being the end of the human race.’ I think you called them.”

I shrug, “Well I guess a night of singing to beat a douchey intern you all hate makes you form bonds. But just to be clear this isn’t gonna stop me from beating them all and getting top spot for the next five years.”

“I don’t doubt it and this aggressive ambition of yours is very hot.” Andrew kisses me and I make out with him for few moments until a pull back.

“Nope.” I stand up in my white crop top and white panties and groan that I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I go to one of the drawers and pull out a pair of his black boxer briefs, “Can I borrow these? I have this thing where if I wear the same underwear twice it’ll stay in my head the rest of the day and I’m not sure if your sister brought an extra pair.”

He grins as he stands up in his tank top and sweats, “Sure and hey maybe tonight we can meet at your place.”

“I can’t.” I put on his underwear that are a little loose but they fit as I put on my black jeans, “I have the night shift but hey maybe I can ‘accidentally’ run into you in an on-call room before your shift ends.”

“You know as hot as this whole sneaking around our coworker’s is I feel like it’s moot since Hunt, Webber, Carina, Alex, Robbins and Jo already know and sooner or later one of them is gonna break and tell a nurse. Why not just tell people and get it over with?”

“Because I don’t need my friends to think I’m using nepotism and sex to scrub in. I mean we’re just getting along and I don’t want to give them ammo to shoot me down.” I explain as I grab my backpack, “Look odds are the people who know aren’t gonna say anything because it is none of their business and I made it clear last night I can hurt them.”

Andrew grins at the memory of how she handled that horny frat guy, “Well they already know your seeing someone and they’re not stupid Amber.”

I snort, “Trust me they are. Spending 12 years of your life inside a library away from parties and relationships makes you socially inept. They aren’t gonna notice unless I let them notice and they’re not gonna think too much on it because intern year is hell, it’s like a lobotomy but with scalpels.”

Andrew thinks for a moment before responding, “You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”

“I only have 10 years of sheltered education and unlike them I went out to socialize once or twice. If you haven’t been to an art gallery opening the four years you live in New York your dead. Now come on let’s go.”

He takes his tank top off and walks to his drawers, “Give me a second I gotta change.” I leave him to change and my thirst for coffee takes over.

I walk down the hall and I walk towards the kitchen to get coffee when a shocking sight causes me to freeze and yell out, “Oh my god!”

A very naked Dr. Hunt is kissing Carina DeLuca who is only wearing an apron and her butt was the first thing that caught my attention because her back is towards me. They look at me and only Hunt looks horrified out of the two, which makes sense since Carina has already been through this with me before.

“Oh my god.” Hunt says in terror and grabs a kitchen towel to cover himself but it’s futile since it’s so small.

I cover my eyes so I don’t see this twisted Adam and Eve scene, “I-I am so sorry I was just gonna get coffee. I-I didn’t see anything I swear.”

I hear Carina speak first nonchalantly like I caught her with her hand in a cookie jar, “It’s not problem Dr. Karev it’s not the first time this happened with us.”

I nod and decide to retreat, “Yeah, I’m gonna go I’ll see you both at the hospital.” I turn fast with my hand still in front of my eyes. I hit my elbow with the doorway and I feel a sharp shooting pain causing me to yell out, “Ow! Shit!”

Andrew runs out fully clothed clearly hearing me yelling, “What? What is it? What’s wrong? Oh my god!” DeLuca sees what caused me to panic and turns the other direction clearly traumatized and curses out in Italian to Carina who thankfully for Andrew was facing him in the front instead of the back. Carina is either apologizing in her native tongue or defending herself I can’t tell because I’m holding my elbow trying to not look inside the kitchen.

“K-Karev are you okay do you need any ice?” Hunt tries to come forward and I hold my hand out horrified to signal stop.

“No!” I yell out and Hunt stops, “Do not come any closer! This does not look great Hunt. Andrew, we need to go now!” Andrew nods full heartedly and runs to the door I follow after getting my backpack from the floor. We both exit the house and pause on the front porch still in shock.

“…We will never speak of this again.” I nod at Andrew’s serious statement and we both walk to my car and I am still aghast that now my boss and I have seen each other naked and I saw Carina DeLuca half naked twice. I feel like I won a record for both categories.

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“I bet it’s Avery.” Helm speculates with Schmitt, Parker, Qadri and Roy as they get ready for work, “I mean you know the saying ‘beautiful people breed together’ and she’s been in his service the last couple of days.”

Qadri scoffs by her locker putting her coat on, “No that’s not possible I don’t think it’s Avery he’s too classy to shag up with an intern on her first week.”

“You’re only saying that hoping it’s you he breaks the rules with.” Helm says with a cruel grin.

Qadri blushes, “I-I-I don’t know where you get that idea.” The others chuckle unconvinced and she rolls her eyes, “Come on! You’ve all seen him you’d have to be blind or ace not to find him hot.”

“Avery isn’t a bad theory.” Roy grins, “I heard he did it with Dr. Edwards when she was an intern plus most of the attendings here had sex with an intern or resident once or twice in the on-call room. The nurses complain a lot.”

Qadri winces at the mention of how the on-call rooms are used, “Well I think it’s Dr. Warren, he’s beautiful too and she spent our first week here in the pit learning under him. Maybe she’s learning under him outside of work.” Qadri says with a mischievous grin.

Helm snaps at her, “You really think she’s getting her supply from the chief’s husband?”

Qadri’s eyes widen in shock, “Wait he’s married to the chief?” The others say yes making her feel stupid, “Well there goes my theory unless they have some kind of arrangement.”

“How do we know it’s someone who works here?” Schmitt asks putting his stethoscope around his neck, “It could be someone from med school or New York.”

“It could be, maybe it’s a stockbroker those are big in NYC or maybe an attending at Langone or-” Qadri gasps, “Maybe it’s a celebrity! I mean it’s New York and she’s a theater geek maybe it’s a Broadway star.” Qadri gasps louder, “You guys…what if it’s Lin Manuel Miranda? What if she’s dating Hamilton?!”

“Then that would make strange foreplay.” Helm says sarcastically, “It has to be someone here we have no lives here or in med school and we don’t have time to meet normal people like Hamilton.” She turns to Casey who is putting his shoes on, “Casey you must know something, you’re the only one she likes and talks to out of all of us.”

“Yeah because you all are whispering about her love life like TMZ.” Casey stands up, “Besides I don’t like gossip and I don’t know also I don’t care who she has in her bed.”

Qadri rolls her eyes, “You suck man.”

“Do you think that’s why she hasn’t shown any interest in me?” Roy asks.

They all say no and Roy’s ego deflates due to this. Amber enters the locker room causing them all to quiet down. Amber narrows her eyes as she opens her locker, Qadri approaches her with a knowing grin.

“Same clothes as yesterday?” Amber looks at the white crop top and black jeans she wore to Joe’s last night and looks at Dahlia confused, “Do we have ourselves a walk of shame She-Karev?”

Amber takes her jacket off and tosses it to Qadri covering her grinning face, “I’m working 80 hours a week on a crap salary and trying to afford my apartment in the city. I don’t have time to do laundry so I just wear the least dirty clothes I have.” Qadri takes the jacket away from her face as Amber takes her clothes off, “Now I know you all are interested in who I am spending my very little free time with so just ask away.”

“Don’t do it.” Helm says bitterly, “She’s just gonna say ‘screw off’ ‘none of your business’ or ‘go to hell’ and we’ll be left to speculate more.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Schmitt says and asks Amber, “Who’s the guy Amber?”

“None of your business.” Amber snaps as she puts her black sweater on and Helm grins at being right while Schmitt frowns, “So who’s the top contender Regis and Kelly? I’m curious and I need something to brighten up my morning.”

“Well, I think it’s Avery.” Helm says.

“And I think it’s Eddie from radiology.” Amber rolls her eyes at Schmitt’s guess as she puts her light blue scrub top on, “I’ve seen him looking at you when you got the films from him the other day.”

“At first I thought it was Warren.”

Amber looks at Dahlia dumbfounded as she takes her jeans off, “He’s married to the chief you imbecile.”

“I didn’t know until a few minutes ago give me a break!” Dahlia says frustrated but calms down, “Anyway now I think it’s Alexander Hamilton. Is it?”

Amber looks at her confused as she takes her jeans off and her underwear catches Roy’s attention, “Nice boxer’s She-Karev.”

Helm gasps, “OooOoo you’re wearing his boxers scandalous!”

“I don’t like panties and men’s underwear are more freeing and they don’t chafe.” Roy chuckles at her excuse, “Plus I wear these better than any of you especially Roy I fill the space in more than he does.” The others chuckle at my emasculating comment.

Qadri continues, “So yeah, Helm’s got Avery, Schmitt has Eddie and I have Lin Manuel Miranda.”

“And I don’t care.” Casey says bluntly.

Amber puts her hair in a messy bun and looks at them all blankly, “Well at least you didn’t throw in Alex Karev because that would be insulting to me on so many levels and just plain disturbing.”

“Y-Yeah it would be given how he’s your brother.” Schmitt adds and Amber glares at him, “And you already know that hence why you made a joke.”

Qadri chuckles, “Come on just tell us I mean if he works here and you’re with him we’re gonna notice the sexual chemistry immediately.”

“I’m sorry but what’s your main resource for sensing sexual tension between a couple?” Amber asks facing Qadri, “Is it The Vampire Diaries or The OC?”

Qadri scoffs, “No…okay fine maybe I did, come on! Give us something it is killing us.”

“Keep on bothering me about my personal life and I’ll kill you instead.” Amber slams her locker door and turns to all of them, “You know what guys just because we see each other almost every day doesn’t mean we have to be friends and share every little thing like we’re in high school.”

“We basically missed out on high school and intern year is our way of making up for it.” Helm states.

“Yeah and what else can we be if not friends?” Qadri asks.

“Coworkers.” Amber answers factly, “And coworkers don’t bagger coworkers about their sex lives. It’s bordering on inappropriate and Roy is a good example of why you need to stop.”

Roy looks at her offended, “Hey.”

“Okay you make a good point.” Qadri finally backs off, “God knows I don’t want to become another Roy.”

“Hey!” Roy yells out more offended.

Amber chuckles and Parker speaks up, “Okay enough about She-Karev let’s get to the work talk, is there any word on who our chief resident is? I’ve been here for like two weeks and I haven’t heard anything.”

“Me neither.” Helm chimes in, “I mean you would think they’d choose one before we got here.”

“Do you know anything Barbie?” Roy asks Amber, “Your brother is the chief of peds didn’t he say anything during Sunday dinner?”

“Just because I’m an egg mass in the frog cycle like all of you doesn’t mean I can give out privileged information my brother slash boss gave to me.”

Parker catches the lie, “You don’t know who it is either do you?”

“What happened to not caring Parker?” Amber hisses before they all hear a person clearing their throat loudly and turn to find Jo Wilson and Andrew DeLuca standing there ready to give them their assignments.

“If you all are done gossiping on things that aren’t in your caliber to know line up so we can give you your assignments for the day.” Jo commands and the six of them stand at attention, “Helm you have post ops with Shepherd, Roy and Schmitt you’re with DeLuca at the pit, Parker your with Kepner and Karev your on scut.” Suddenly their phones all beep and they check that a major trauma in an amusement park is coming to the pit causing them to suddenly get giddy, “Okay change of plans all of the interns and residents go to the pit and help out wherever you can let’s go!”

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

I power walk with Qadri to the pit and we gown and glove each other. I was this close to spending another day on scut and losing my mind when that page came in and saved me. A trauma from an amusement park means a lot of injuries and more chances for me to scrub in.

After helping Qadri, I snap my gloves on, “I’m gonna scrub in first.”

“No I am.” Helm says in equal ruthlessness, “You can go do some scut.”

“Please if anyone’s gonna see an O.R. first it’s me.” Roy says smugly.

Schmitt chimes in, “Well maybe I’ll scrub in.”

I laugh at him and he frowns, “Don’t make me laugh Glasses I need to keep my focus when I leave you dorks eating my dust.”

“I can’t decide if this ultra-competitive side of you is scary or sexy.” Casey says as he ties Schmitt’s gown.

“It’s scary.” I confirm with a dark glare, “I’m not someone to underestimate Parker and if you all think seeing me sing some Train last night makes me safe you couldn’t be more wrong. I’m getting a surgery even if it’s on one of you.” They all look at me frightened and I grin at them, “May the best man win.”

I run out with DeLuca next to me who whispers as we walk, “I thought they were your friends?”

“It’s first come first serve DeLuca and I will serve fists if they come for my time in the O.R.”

We all go out to the bay where a few EMT’s roll a man out of a gurney and state his stats to Shepherd and Hunt. My focus however is shifted to a commercial truck coming in and I see a broken roller coaster cart in the back with a man and woman inside clearly hurt. The others notice and stand by gaping as well.

“Oh my god.” Qadri says in shock.

I call out first, “Mine!”

“No, I saw it first!” Helm claims.

I face Helm with an angry look, “No you didn’t!” We start to yell over each other on who gets to assist and I don’t even know what either of us are saying. The other interns walk around us clearly annoyed by our competitive natures.

“Hey!” Hunt yells and we stop to look at him, “One of you stop yelling and come over here we need two interns including Roy.”

We both point at each other and yell out in unison, “Her!” We argue again.

“Enough!” Hunt yells out again and we stop, “She-Karev you go to the clinic they don’t need an intern at the cart Helm come with me.”

I gape at him, “Wh-But I-”

“Now.” Hunt says with finality causing me to shut up and glare at Helm who grins at me victoriously.

“Shut up.” I say before going back inside to the clinic. I angrily take my gown and gloves off to get ready to suture for the rest of the day. I was ordered to get xeroform by the nurse and go to the supply closet. I see Jo is also inside getting supplies and approach her, “Hey where do you need me?”

“Uh take beds 1 to 3 if you have any questions talk to me when I’m not busy and looking at today I am going to be.” She looks up and notices the look in my face, “No scrubbing in today huh?”

I shake my head, “Nope and you know what I think I would have if Hunt wasn’t on the case. Damn it this wouldn’t have happened if we spent the night in my place instead of his. Sure he would’ve had a broken ankle but he can walk away from that.”

Jo sighs and looks at me with gauze in her arms, “Look Hunt is a trauma surgeon and a soldier he’s meticulous and impartial I’m sure whatever happened isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.”

I raise an eyebrow, “Isn’t as bad as I think? So walking in on your boss this morning enjoying a post coital breakfast with the sister of the guy your dating is just something that happens everyday?” Jo’s eyes widen, “Because I don’t think I got the memo.”

Jo tries to stay calm and not laugh, “Um…so when you say post coital does that mean…?”

I curl my lips in disgust, “She was the only one with clothes and it was a thin apron.” Jo laughs out loud and I look at her with a grin confirming it was as bad as I thought, “And I almost broke my elbow and DeLuca came out and saw it all.” This makes Jo laugh harder and I start to laugh too shaking my head at my own expense, “Oh god that was so humiliating nothing is gonna top that.”

Jo stops and smiles, “Oh really? My intern year I was sleeping at Alex’s house and the chief of surgery walked in, thought I was his girlfriend and felt me up like we were teenagers under the bleachers.”

I chuckle at her story impressed, “Okay that almost beat’s mine. Not by much but still.”

“The chief of surgery at the time was Hunt.” I look at her shocked and we laugh at how we both had a horrifying encounter with the chief of trauma, “Yep I win now come on there’s a major trauma and everything minor was moved to the clinic.”

I tsk, “Nothing like resetting bones and stitching up clowns to get over seeing your boss’s MD.”

Jo grins, “That’s the spirit.” Jo and I leave the closet and get back to the clinic. I walk over to bed 1 where DeLuca is already with the unconscious patient. She’s a young girl about 12 maybe 13 and she has a neck brace as well a bandage over her shoulder and she has hand restraints.

“Hey what do we got?”

“14-year-old female, trampled, shoulder dislocation, GCS is unknown she hasn’t woken up yet.” DeLuca looks over the monitor, “Vitals are stable but I’m concerned about a head injury so when she wakes up do an exam and make sure there’s no blood in the urine.”

“Got it.” I apply betadine on a scratch on her forehead and she opens her eyes slowly, “Hey your okay you were in an accident, your at the hospital.”

Andrew checks her vitals with a stethoscope, “Can you tell us your name?” The next second she goes on red alert because she starts to thrash around and her vitals skyrocket from the monitor beeping fast and loud, “Whoa, whoa we need some help here!”

I try to hold her down with DeLuca as a couple of nurses arrive, “Ma’am you may have fractured your spine and any sudden move could cause permanent paralysis.” She’s still thrashing around though.

“Damn it she’s a fighter.” DeLuca tries but fails to keep her still, “Tighten the restraints.”

“Please we need you to cooperate!” I groan and look for other injuries and notice she’s moving her hands the most and it suddenly hits me why she’s not listening, “Stop, stop, stop! Everyone stop let her go!” They all stop and the girl calms down and stops moving and her vitals stabilize.

Andrew looks at the scene confused and asks me, “What is it?”

“Um…” I take a second to put my hands up and sign as I speak to the girl, “Are you deaf?”

The girl looks at me surprised but nods slightly, Andrew understands, “So the spasms was her trying to communicate.”

“Yeah, take the restraints off.” The nurses take them off and I continue to use what I learned in college, “Okay um…can you read lips?” She nods, “Great, what’s your name?”

She puts her right hand up and signs the letters of her name, Darcy.

“Everyone this is Darcy. Hi Darcy, I’m Dr. Karev and this is Dr. DeLuca. Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember people pushing me and running I didn’t know why but the next thing I was on the ground and people were stepping on me.” Darcy explains as DeLuca checks her neuro exam.

“Okay can you wiggle your toes for us?” I ask and Darcy does that to my relief, “Your…” I try to come up with a term since I only know regular signing, “Your legs are working but we need to rule out any other injuries.”

“Can you tell her what’s going on and that she needs an MRI to rule out a spinal injury?”

“I can try but medical ASL isn’t part of my fluency.” I turn to the girl and try to sign what I know, “Darcy we have to…check your spine to make sure it’s not…hurt.” Darcy looks at me amused and I chuckle at her expression, “Yeah I know medical signing is not my forte but don’t worry we’ll get someone to explain what’s happening right away.”

Andrew turns to a nurse, “Get an interpreter to bed 1.” The nurse leaves, “Ask her where her parents are.”

“Where are your parents? Were they at the carnival with you?” I face her directly because it’s been a while since I actually used it.

Darcy shakes her head, “No I was with some friends from school. They were at the house of mirrors when I went to go to the restroom. That’s when I became Mufasa in The Lion King.” I chuckle at that reference with DeLuca looking at us confused, “I have their numbers on my phone.”

“Okay we have to call them and let them know how you’re doing do you have your phone with you right now?”

Darcy thinks before responding, “I had it in my purse and I don’t know where it went after the accident.”

I turn to DeLuca who looks at me with a grin clearly impressed causing me to have butterflies in my stomach but I interpret through it, “Uh her phone is in her purse and her parents’ numbers are on it but she doesn’t know where it is. Could it be at the park?”

“Probably not it most likely got lost in the ambulance.” He turns to a nurse, “Check the logs and call the ambulance she was in so we can get her purse here and call her folks.” The nurse nods and DeLuca turns to me, “Where did you learn sign language?”

“I took a class in college.” I explain, “I figured if I was gonna use my hands to save lives, I should also use them to speak and look it paid off.”

Andrew chuckles and turns to Darcy; a man arrives a second later.

“Hi, you called for an interpreter?”

“Yes thank god.” I exhale in relief and turn to Darcy, “Okay Darcy this is your medical interpreter because my medical signing is…” I make a fart sign and raspberry causing her to chuckle, “Yeah okay you can take over I better book that MRI. I’ll see you later Darcy.” I walk away to book an MRI.

[denimbex1986]

'Two weeks ago, on a Sunday, I literally ran out of my six-hour Patient Care Technician shift to watch "Oppenheimer," Christopher Nolan's biopic starring Cilian Murphy as the Manhattan Project scientist, J. Robert Oppenheimer. In ninth grade, I had the opportunity to interview Dr. Benjamin Bederson, who was a bomb switch operator for the Manhattan project, so the inner high school history nerd in me was ready to be enthralled by the movie of the summer.

However, the iconic and controversial "Gita" sex scene where grad student Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh) descends on Oppenheimer had me literally running out of the room faster than I ran out of my job to watch it in the first place. In this scene, the two sleep together for the first time following a communist party gathering. Midway through intercourse, Jean picks up a bound copy of the Hindu scripture "Bhagavad Gita" from Oppenheimer's bookshelf, and asks him to read from it – where we get the foreboding quote, "Now I become death, the destroyer of worlds" – before proceeding with the act as he continues to read. Although the film has received rave reviews, this scene has garnered immense criticism from Hindu nationalist group, Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), for its insertion of religious scripture into sexual intercourse.

Disclaimer: I started squirming in my seat during the scene and spent a good 10 minutes afterwards in the bathroom stall, calming myself down. Then I bought a blue Icee and ran back in to watch the rest.

The scene, although uncomfortable, was mind-opening. All of a sudden my present started to articulate my past forward as I was transported out of the movie theater and into my eighth grade health classroom. Today's topic: the forms of sex. All three forms – as my teacher called it. As someone who didn't even know that sex existed until that moment, I immediately started twisting in my chair and had to leave the room as the teacher's descriptions got more and more detailed. My mind could not handle the fact that two people could crave touching each other's private parts out of choice or out of adoration. But several of my classmates were unfazed. And several of them laughed at my reaction for weeks.

At that point, I knew I had to change. I had to take initiative to learn what my parents had always avoided discussing with me. So, I started reading "Game of Thrones" and its fanfiction to educate myself. And lots of it. By the time I had finished high school and college, I had read so much of it that I thought I had numbed my mind to sexual thought and literary depiction. But that "Oppenheimer" Gita sex scene told me differently.

When I saw it on screen, I still could not handle it.

Growing up in a conservative Indian American household in the midwestern United States, I never heard from my parents discussions about certain bodily actions seen as "obscene" or taboo and why society perceived them in that way. I'd never seen them even kiss each other in front of my sister and me. I never had a person who could talk candidly with me about embarrassing or scary changes in my body and make them no longer seem so mysterious and foreign. After that revelatory eighth grade sexual health education class, there were questions that I was dying to ask but knew it was not OK to ask my mom or dad. To them, there was no comedy nor beauty in discussing sex and sexuality, especially when they were starting from scratch with someone like me, who was on the brink of puberty but still had many gaps in her knowledge. I wondered why my parents always shied away from this topic – even when it is something so deeply human and important.

"You don't have to know these things. The more you know about it, the more you will want to jump in earlier," my mom would say. "I don't know why they teach these things to kids so early in this country."

Two years later, in 10th grade world history class, I was a raging "Game of Thrones" fan who had read almost every Sansa/Tyrion fanfic on the internet (including the rated M for mature ones). We were learning about ancient India, and my favorite teacher of all time told us something that shocked me more than the Oppenheimer scene: that early Indian civilization was a pioneer in and center of sexual desire.

Across the whiteboard he had written in all caps these words: KAMA SUTRA.

"Do you know what this is," he yelled across the room to the whole class. "Anyone? How about you, Sibani?"

I was the only Indian American student in my high school class. I honestly and vigorously shook my head. I worshiped this man on many levels, but I sincerely did not know the answer to his question. I was also embarrassed that I didn't know about this supposedly very important text from my own culture.

"This is a book . . . about sex," he continued. "All the different positions and the ways to enjoy them. And it originated in INDIA."

I felt my face flush. My parents had ensured that I watch re-enacted versions of the Indian epics of Mahabharata and Ramayana on our tiny TV screen in my small Iowan midwestern town. My late grandmother had ensured that I learned how to speak my native language TamiI, and my parents pushed me to retain that. They put me through Carnatic singing lessons over the phone to help me better connect with my heritage and culture. Yet, they had conveniently chosen not to mention this uncomfortable but fascinating truth about the book of sex originating in India.

That day, I went home and scoured the internet. And what my genius of a world history teacher had told me was beyond true. It turned out that I did not have to even turn to the internet, but rather had to dig back into my own memories of visiting temples across South India during my summers and sometimes seeing their walls adorned with near-naked female idols. When visiting, I remember being a bit surprised that these sculptures were not taken down by the conservative Indian communities that surrounded them. However, history reveals that the communities that initially surrounded the sculptures may have been ones where sex and spirituality were united, not untied.

For example, the seven-foot-tall Sathyamurthi Perumal Temple in my motherland of Tamil Nadu, India features detailed and sacred architecture depicting intercourse. In fact, these structures are protected by the Archeological Survey of India. This is not a standalone example. The juxtaposition of sexuality and sanctity can be seen in Hindu temples ranging from the Sun Temple in Gujarat to the Jain temples of Rajasthan to the Virupaksha temple in Karnataka – all located in India.

Early India's fascination with sex is not limited to architecture but also spills over into literature beyond the "Kama Sutra." While the major Hindu epics "Mahabharata" and "Ramayana" are certainly not as pornographic as "Game of Thrones," these ancient religious epics are far from devoid of the depictions of sexual pleasure. The pages contain stories of great sages committed to abstinence, who could resist everything but the temptations of sex. Draupadi, a pivotal character in "Mahabharata" and powerful example of polyandry, simultaneously keeps and sleeps with five husbands. Hindu scripture is not devoid of sexual exposure. In fact, the "Gita "that Oppenheimer invests his mind in is derived from a scene in the "Mahabharata."

When my mom sent me an article on the Hindu nationalists' criticism of the questionable sex scene in "Oppenheimer," I immediately defended the Western approach to sex.

"The difference between the Western world and the Indian one is that the Western one can own up to human temptations and sins, versus in India, we like to hide from what makes us human anyway. Just remember that India – not USA – was the earliest erotic place in the world where a so-called 'book' originated. Read beyond headlines," I wrote in response.

However, I now realize that my scathing response – while it is not fully false – lacks sensitivity. The "Gita" is a sacred text. While it does encourage sex for procreation, it discourages sex for pleasure. I do not agree with that principle in the "Gita" (isn't sex called making love for a reason?), but I do think Nolan crossed the line a bit. Just a bit. But only a bit.

Even if the scene made me very uncomfortable, walking through Hindu temples trying to recite prayers and seeing naked copulation sculptures has also made me very uncomfortable. So, when the Hindu nationalist BJP calls the scene a "disturbing attack on Hinduism" that "wages a war on the Hindu community," that is not at all accurate either. The earliest Hindus saw sex as a soul of their religion and culture. Maybe that is not how things are today, but as a Hindu woman myself, history and religion calls upon me to pursue the truth. The truth is that sex was a characteristic of early Hindu civilizations in a way that was arguably more explicit than any scene in "Oppenheimer." The truth is that my parents and several of my Indian American friends' parents unfortunately often avoid this reality. The truth is that Nolan saw the raw sexual stuff of life as text to be read, art to be created and conversation to be generated. If anything, this scene pays tribute to the reality that several sacred Hindu spaces – even if this excludes the "Bhagavad Gita" itself – do indeed sing of the sexual.

To all Hindus in this world – including the BJP – let's not be angry and offended. We've not earned the right to be given the past. Instead, let's invite a responsible dialogue about what history can teach us about our own religion. And then, we can talk about how we would like for that religion to be accurately represented.'

[adminbryantsaki]

Hizashi Yamada x F! Reader.

(I don’t own Hizashi. Horikoshi Kōhei does)

(A/N: I am so excited! This is my first time participating in the BNHarem server collab. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!))

Go here for more fics!

TW: Oral sex, bondage, sex talk, roommates, eavesdropping.

Word count: 4,361 words.

You just came home after a long shift at work and saw the red light outside your roommate’s recording studio, as he was on the air. You smiled softly and went to your bedroom to get changed out of your work’s uniform. You closed the door behind you after you got changed and you headed over to his recording studio. When you first moved in with the pro hero, you were curious as to what he did during his show. He let you into his studio one afternoon to show you around. You were amazed with all the buttons, lights and switches that were used to operate the studio. That afternoon during his recording session, he let you sit in and watch him work. He even let you help him pick a list of music to play. Since you had such a good taste in music, he decided to let you pick music for his shows. Today was one of those days. You knocked on the door to the studio before opening the door and slipping in and closing the door behind you. He looked in your direction before talking into the mic before switching it off and turning to face you.

“Hey there, Y/N. Rough shift?” He asked as he noticed your tired expression. You nodded and went to sit on the couch he kept in the studio for himself or his friend Aizawa when he came over.  You laid down on the couch and pulled a blanket over your body. You closed your eyes as you listened to your roommate continue on with his show. You eventually fell asleep on the couch as Hizashi finished up his show. His voiced always had a way to soothe you into slumber. He looked back in your direction after he turned the microphone off for the night and smiled. He left his recording studio and went to make himself a cup of tea. He went to the living room couch and sat down. He turned the T.V. on and watched a show. A few hours passed before you came out of his recording studio, sleepy and wrapped up in the blanket.

“Hizashi? How long was I asleep?” You ask in a groggy voice.

“About two hours. Work must’ve worn you out.” He said looking over to you. He patted the seat next to him. You walked over and sat next to him

“What are you watching?” You asked.

“Some Spanish telenovela.” He said as he set his hand down, extremely close to your thigh.

“Do you even understand what is going on?” A familiar deep voice sounded from behind the couch. You turned to see your roommate’s friend and pro hero Shouta Aizawa approaching the couch with a bowl of popcorn. Having Shouta over was pretty normal since he and Hizashi were friends since high school

“Can’t you see that one of the guys cheated on his wife? He was sneaking around with a different woman than the one he married. There was a big episode a few weeks ago where he got married to her. The poor girl… she deserves better.” The blonde said as his friend sat down on the other side of him and put the bowl between them.

“I see… What do you think is going on now?” Shouta asked as he turned his tired eyes to the screen.

“The guy is sneaking around his wife while she is at home doing all the housework, paying the bills, and getting a hot dinner on the table right as he comes through the door. All the while he will ‘work late’ on the nights she wants to do something special because she wants to still be with him. The dude is cheating on you!” Hizashi said the last part a little louder as the girl was denying the fact that her husband could be cheating on her. You winced a little as you didn’t expect the loud noise so suddenly. Hizashi looked over at you with an apologetic look in his emerald eyes.

“Sorry about that, listener. Are you ok now?” He asked as he brushed back a stray strand of hair. This small gesture caused you to blush a bright shade of pink. You nodded in response and turned your eyes back to the show.

“That’s not good. One of the girl’s brothers just pulled a gun on the cheating husband.” Shouta said as one of the characters was holding the husband at gunpoint. Hizashi looked at the screen and his eyes widened. He spoked up as he began to create a dialogue for the show.

“How dare you sneak around with that tramp! You know my sister was good to you. Making dinner for you every night. You do not appreciate her!” Soon the sound of a gunshot sounded from the T.V.  causing you to screech a little while you pressed into Hizashi. He again looked at you. He gently kissed your head and put an arm around you. Shouta looked over at the both of you and smiled softly.

“I should get going. I have an early morning.” The darker haired man said and stood up from the couch.  He showed himself out while closing the door behind him. He only lived next door to the both of you. Once he was gone, Hizashi turned the T.V. off and turned to you.

“You sure you’re ok? You let out a little shriek there when the gun sounded.” He said and rubbed your back.

“I’ll be ok. It just startled me a bit.” You said looking into his eyes that were filled with concern.

“As long as you’re ok.” He said, now looking down.  You leaned forward, still swaddled in the blanket from the recording studio and kissed his cheek. This caught him off guard. He looked back at you.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“To help you get your mind off worrying about me.” You said as you stood up, only to get pulled back down by his large piano hands.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked as a sly smirk spread across the hero’s lips.

“I was gonna go to bed. Still sleepy.” You responded as the blush on your face grew deeper by the moment. You laid down on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

“If you’re tired then go to bed. I won’t stop you.” He said as he resisted kissing you full on the lips right there. You groaned before positioning yourself in an upright position. He looked over and smiled softly at your cute form all swaddled up in the blanket. He pulled a little of the blanket back and kissed your cheek.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I have tomorrow morning off if you wanna hang out.” He said pulling away. You nodded and stood up. You proceeded to almost skip to your room in excitement. That night you could barely sleep a wink. Did Hizashi, the amazing Pro hero who had an amazing voice actually have a crush on you? You stared at the ceiling in disbelief. Then again, he did kiss you on the cheek, make sure you were ok after you jumped with the gunshot, and was genuinely worried about you the days you went straight to bed after work. After tossing and turning for hours you got up and went back out to the living room to find said roommate still watching the telenovela.

“Hizashi Yamada, do you have a crush on me?” You asked as you stood in front of the T.V. His green eyes looked up at you after he paused the show.

“Yes, I have feelings for you.” He said as his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“For how long have you liked me?” You asked. Your heart was in your throat as you waited for his answer.

“Ever since you moved in.” He said, still making eye contact with you. You felt something tugging at you to move closer to him. You walked over and he reached his arms out to pull you into his lap.

“Has it really been that long?” You asked him. You had moved in a few months ago. You wished that he would’ve said something sooner.

“Yeah, it has been. I didn’t know if you had a significant other or not. I found out when we went out for drinks with the other teachers and you were talking with Midnight. I overheard you telling her that you were single.”  He responded. “I didn’t want to step in if you already had a boyfriend.” His eyes stared back at yours deeply.

“Thank you, Hizashi.” You told him. You really did love him but you didn’t know how to say it.

“So, do you like me like that or not?” He asked as his hands rested on your hips. You thought for a moment. Your face blushed deep red.

“I do like you… no… I love you.” You confessed while looking back at him. A blush grew on your face and a wide grin spread across the voice hero’s face. He hugged you tightly.

“I love you too, so much, princess.” He said smiling. He slid his hands up to cradle the base of your head.  He pulled you into a gentle kiss.  You melted into the kiss and put your arms around his neck. After pulling away for air, Hizashi pulled your legs around his waist and he stood up.  

“Your room or mine?” He responded as he put his hair up in a bun. You thought for a moment.

“Yours. Mine’s a mess right now as I’m rearranging it.” You said looking down. He put a finger under your chin and lifted your head to make you look at him.

“That’s ok. We can go to mine.” He said and carried you to his room. He opened the door and let you look around. There was a simple metal bed frame with a mattress on it. There was a desk and a dresser. On his desk was a small lamp, his laptop, some stacks of cds, and a decent set of speakers that were attached to the laptop. Next to the bed was a simple nightstand with another lamp and a phone charger. He set you down on his bed and kissed your head.

“You get comfortable. I’m gonna set up some music. There’s a box of toys and lube under the bed if you wanna pick stuff out.” He said as he sat down at the desk and turned his laptop on. You nodded while still blushing. Music began to fill the room as you leaned over and found a plain cardboard box.  You pulled it out to find vibrators, cuffs, rope, a collar, and a funnel with a tube taped to it. You blushed and grabbed the rope. You laid back down with the rope next to you. Hizashi looked back at you.

“I see you picked the rope. I’ll be right back ok, listener?” He said before leaving the room. You laid flat on his bed. You rolled over to inhale the scent of leather, citrus, and cinnamon that was embedded into his sheets. You relaxed a bit. You couldn’t believe that he… no the both of you were gonna do this. He came back into the room carrying a couple bottles of water.  

“You ok, babygirl? Did ya fall asleep?” He asked as he walked over and set the food on the nightstand. He placed a hand on your shoulder and you looked at him with a bright red face.

“Sorry. I like the scent of your pillow.” You responded. He smiled.

“I brought some food we can use.” He told you. You looked at the nightstand. He was pulling out his box of condoms. You blushed hard and stared at them.

“I have some other ones in the bathroom.” He said as he looked at you.

“No… I just wanna take it easy. This will be my first time in a while.” You told him. You tried to hide the fact that you were nervous, he could sense it though.

“How about I tell you what I’m going to do, each step, throughout the whole thing?” He asked as he kissed your head and stood up.  You were about to speak when he pulled his shirt off to show his toned torso. He had various scars and a tattoo that went across his back, spreading over his shoulders. The tattoo looked like wings that covered his shoulders and went over his chest. You stared at the tattoo as it mesmerized you and caused you to drool a bit. He looked back and chuckled. He knew what he was doing by taking his shirt off.

‘So cute.’ He thought as he sat across from you and stroked your cheek. You snapped out of your trance and looked away for a moment while your face turned beet red.

“Yeah, that sound’s perfect.” You said as your eyes wandered down to his hands to see the tattoos on his fingers. They were bands of intricate patterns similar to rings. You smiled. He moved up and pulled your legs around his waist. He nuzzled your neck.

“You smell so good, princess.” He told you before he kissed your neck. ‘Her scent is amazing. I can’t get enough of it.’ He thought to himself as he bit down on your neck which got a moan out of you. He smirked and licked your soft skin. You moaned into his neck.

“Can we sit up?” You asked. He pulled back and nodded. He sat up with you in his lap. You got settled and pressed into him. You took a deep breath and looked up at him, blushing hard, looking back down again. He smiled and patted your head.  

“How are we gonna go about this?” You asked him as you traced the feathers of his tattoo

“Well, the good thing to do is to have a safe word.” He said as he looked down at you.  

“What should it be?” You asked him.

“How about bass clef?” He suggested. You nodded and smiled.

“Ok. I need you to take your clothes off.” He instructed as a sly grin spread across his face at the idea of finally being able to see those curves you kept hidden with your baggy clothes.

“How far down do I need to strip?” You asked nervously. You hated the way your body looked. There was so much you would want to change with your body.

“All of it,” He told you as he slid a hand under the hem of your shirt. “Unless you are hiding something that you’d not want me to see.” He told you in a firmer tone. You looked up at him still nervous.

“I’m not hiding anything.” You said even though you had stretch marks and chub on your body that you would have wanted to hide, you decided that he should be able to see it.  He is your boyfriend now.

“Then strip. Show me that lovely body.” He instructed. He couldn’t wait to see the obvious thick thighs, butt, and cute, yet soft tummy you had. You had shown it the few times you wore yoga pants around the apartment on your days off. You sat up with your back to him and pulled your shirt off.  You had some acne on your back, stretch marks on the lower part of your back and hips, you also had some chub on your thighs and stomach. He smirked and pulled you closer to kiss your neck again. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist. He had you pressed into his chest.

“You look amazing. Every part of you is amazing.” He told you as he ran his hands up and down your thighs. He peppered your neck with kisses.  He was praising you. You loved the attention.

“What’s next?” You asked. He hummed and had you lean forward a bit so he could look at you.

“Now we are gonna continue taking your clothes off. Next is your bra.” He said as he looked at the garment and tugged playfully at the strap that ran over your shoulders.  You nodded and he undid the hooks at the back and helped you pull it off. There were faint red lines indented into your skin. The blonde frowned and rubbed where the lines were with his fingers.

“Don’t wear your bra’s so tight. I don’t like seeing the indents in your skin.” He said to you in your ear. You hummed and sighed.

“Alright.” You responded. He kissed your cheek and put his hands on the soft flesh of your stomach.

‘So soft. Her skin all over is so soft, dare I think it’s an addiction and I’m hooked?’ He thought as he hovered over her neck.

“What’s next?” Your voice broke his trance. He looked down at your pants and hummed deeply in his chest.

“Next is your pants. For this, I’d like for you to lay down. But first, give me your wrists.” He instructed as he tugged at the fabric of your sweats.

“Do you want me to turn around or stay where I am?” You asked.

“Stay where you are, princess.” He said as he reached for the black rope that you had picked out. You held your wrists out in front of you and he brought the rope in front of you. He leaned into you so he could see what he was doing. He tied your wrists up as he spoke to you softly.

“Is that too tight? I’ll loosen the rope so it doesn’t hurt.” He adjusted the rope as needed until you were comfortable. He finished the tying with a nice bow. He smiled at his work and kissed your cheek.

“There, all nicely tied up. Now, do you remember the safe word?” He asked as he slid you off his lap gently.

“Yes. It’s bass clef.” You recalled.  

“Good job. Now, lay down on your back for me.” He said soothingly. He helped you lay down carefully so you wouldn’t hit your head on his headboard. His eyes were fixed on yours. You looked so pretty laying there. He wanted to take this moment in and embed the picture of you in his memory. You whined a bit and shifted your hips. He noticed and looked at you.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He asked as he spread your legs so he could move between them. He was hovering dangerously close to your private area.

“Nothing.” You said as you were clearly lying. He gripped your jaw and looked into your eyes.

“Tell me now.” He told you in a firm tone.

“I want you so badly.” You just about moaned out. He smirked and kissed your stomach as it was the nearest thing to him. He made eye contact with you and moved to your hip. He bit into the soft flesh while he activated his quirk and hummed gently. You moaned quietly and shifted under him. He held your hips still. You huffed and stayed still.

“Good girl.” He told you. He smiled. You looked amazing, so pretty, so edible.  

“I’m going to pull your pants and underwear off now.” He told you as he pulled your sweats and underwear down. By then you were already wet and soaking your underwear.

“My, my, someone’s aroused already~.” He mused. He put his fingers in his mouth to coat them in his saliva. He pulled them out and rubbed your clit. You moaned and shifted your hips under his firm grip impatiently. He smirked. “Stay still. You’ll get your reward soon enough.” He told you and slid a finger into your wet entrance. This earned him a moan that sounded like sweet music to his ears. He smirked and pumped his fingers in and out of you. You managed to cover your mouth with your bound wrists. He stopped the stimulation that he was giving you and looked up at you.

“Uncover your mouth.” He ordered. You hesitated and he pulled his fingers out a little bit.  You whined and moved your hands down. He put his fingers back in.

“Good job.” He told you and began to eat you out. You moaned loudly. He activated his quirk which was like a built-in vibrator. This stimulation sent you to another planet. Your head was foggy and you let out a stream of moans that caused him to go faster and suck harder. He pulled his fingers out and slid his tongue in. You gasped and arched your back a bit. He stopped until you relaxed then resumed eating you out. You were loving this stimulation as it was a new experience for you and as you got to experience your roommate’s skilled mouth. He looked up at you and pulled away for air.

“How are you feeling, princess?” He asked as he panted. You could only manage a moan. You nodded yes to tell him that you were ok.

“That’s good, love.” He said as he went back to sucking and biting your lower region. He groaned and hummed louder against your dripping hole. You cried out his name and he growled against your private area.

“Beg for my cock, princess.” He said in a deep, lust filled voice. You blushed harder and made eye contact with the man. There was a lump in your throat before you let out a quiet moan. He put a cupped hand behind his ear.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” He spoke. You looked at him and spoke a bit louder.

“I want you to fill me up inside. I want you to fuck me senseless. Please. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” You confessed while keeping eye contact with him.

“I am happy to hear that, princess.” He sat up and grabbed a condom from his nightstand and ripped it open with his teeth. You blushed and dared to look down at his pierced member. He slid the rubber protection over his erection and poked the head into your dripping entrance. You moaned out and gripped the sheets as you felt the balls of his Jacob’s ladder piercing pop gently into your wet heat.  

“So vocal tonight, I didn’t know you were so needy~.” He hummed as he pulled one thigh around his waist and the other over his shoulder as he slid his full length into you. He grinned as you sucked in your breath and arched your back a little.

“You like that? Take a moment to adjust.” He reassured you in a soothing tone as he ran a hand up and down your thigh to rest on your butt. You adjusted after a few moments and shifted your hips a little to tell him that you were ready. He smirked and began to thrust into you at a slow pace. He kissed the thigh over his shoulder and bit into the soft flesh while using his quirk. You whined more and bucked your hips. He smiled and sped up his thrusts.

“You like that, don’t you, princess?” He said and licked the tender flesh around the bite on your thigh. This earned him another sweet moan that he committed to his memory. He sped up a little more and went harder in his motions. You moaned a sweet symphony for him and he milked out every moment. He slowed his pace a bit which caused you to whimper.

“Hizashi…” You moaned weakly.

“What’s wrong, Princess? I can feel you tightening. It feels good doesn’t it~?” He hummed. The Jacob’s ladder on the underside of his member felt amazing on the silken walls of your dripping heat.  You moaned and clenched around his pierced member. He groaned, quickening his pace to speed up and bring the both of you closer to orgasming. He growled deep in his chest as his lips made contact with your thigh. He made your skin vibrate down to your core. This jolt of stimulation sent you over the edge and clamping down on his cock, releasing the knot of pleasure that had built up in the pit of your stomach. He pulled out of you and slid the used condom off, throwing it in the trash can. He reached across you and got one of the bottles of water and took the cap off. He sat you up and made sure you drank. “There you go, drink up, princess. You did so good, I’m so proud of you.” He told you as you gulped down the water and pulled away to nuzzle into him. He set the bottle down on the nightstand and reached for the unopened one for himself.

“You were amazing, baby girl.” He praised you. He kissed your head and took a drink of water.

“You tasted good too.” He said as he took the rope off your wrists and rubbed them with some lotion he had in the nightstand. You blushed a little and looked away from him. He smiled and laid out next to you. “Is there anything I can get you?” He asked. You were still trying to relax your heart as it was pumping heard from your climax. You steadied your breathing and looked to him.

“Nothing. I’m ok for now. Just tired. Is it ok if I sleep here with you?” You asked him. He nodded and kissed your temple.

“You can sleep here any time, princess.” He said as he slid under the covers and pulled you under with him, holding you close. You pressed into his chest and he wrapped his arms around you like a blanket of protection. He rubbed your back as he hummed to lull you to sleep. You fell into the cozy warmth of sleep in the arms of your boyfriend.

Little did the both of you know, that on the other side of the wall, your neighbor, Shouta had been listening to the both of you and had jerked off to the sounds.

 The End?

[rogerslovesstark]

No More Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader, Sharon x fem!reader [platonic, for now ;)]

Word Count: 2,020

WARNING: ANGST, mean Steve, Sharon being a sweetheart because she is portrayed negatively, I've done it but girls support girls!

“Steve, where are you going?” You ask quietly, scared of his response because it seemed that he was always on the verge of exploding when you spoke to him. You felt like you were walking around eggshells whenever you were around him. 

Ever since he came back from Bolivia, he was constantly angry when he was around you. You noticed something was off when the night he came back, you tried to give him a massage and he jerked himself away from you. That was two months ago, and he was away for almost three months.

You wrote it off as him being tired and annoyed from the almost failed mission. However, as days continued, Steve kept keeping a cold shoulder to you. Avoiding you in the tower, skipping on date nights saying that he had mission reports to file, sleeping in the tower instead of coming home.

It was almost like he didn’t love you anymore.

Steve saw you approaching him in the tower, he also noticed that there was no way of avoiding you without causing a scene. So he just let you come to him, the new trainees in awe of the two superheroes who were supposedly madly in love with one another. 

You beamed at your boyfriend, he had just come back from Bolivia a few days ago and you hadn’t had the chance to speak with him properly, Steve was constantly swarmed in paperwork because of the operation. 

You knew that he was stressed when he didn’t want to have sex after his mission, but you also didn’t want to force it on him. It was odd that you wouldn’t want to have sex after two months away from your girlfriend, only having jerked off while on the trip. You had doubts that Steve remained loyal to you during the mission but you hid them deep in yourself because you didn’t want to doubt the loyalty of Steve.

Steve faked a smile when he saw you walk over to him, just to keep appearances with everyone around them. He hugged you loosely and quickly pulled away, not making many conversations with you and then excusing himself claiming he needed to speak with Fury about something important. 

You stood in the hallway, visibly upset that your lover wouldn’t spend five minutes with you.

You were starved of basic affection from your boyfriend. You didn’t even know what you did wrong.

Steve was on his way out the door when he heard you ask him where he was going. Just hearing you ask him where he was going angered him so much. You were acting like his mother all the time, so needy and annoying. 

“Out Y/n, why? Do you need anything?” He asked trying not to blow a fuse, his temper was so short with you. 

“Can we please talk before you go?” You asked him, you needed validation and affection so badly that you were itching just to have him hold you again. 

Steve huffed and dropped his keys on the side table and walked towards you, sitting on the couch near you, just not touching you. 

“Are you angry at me Steve?” You asked him, desperate for an answer. You just wanted your boyfriend to kiss you the way he used to.

“No, Y/n.” He answered shortly, temper slowly rising, he was getting annoyed by you already and you hadn’t even said more than 20 words to him yet. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if I did something wrong, it won’t hurt my feelings,” You said reaching to hold his hand, in need of some sort of affection. Even if it was just holding his large hand. 

“Y/n enough, stop acting like a child, okay?” He shouted, pulling his hand away quickly when he realized that you were going to touch him. “Y/n I need to tell you something, don’t interrupt me okay, I don’t love you anymore, I don’t what happens but I just don’t love you anymore,” Steve said, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders.

You sat on the couch stunned, absolutely stunned by what your boyfriend had just said. He didn’t love you anymore? What does that even mean? How do you just stop loving someone? You were processing 10 different emotions at once. The one you felt most was pain, so much pain that you couldn’t even cry because of how much it hurt.

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, you just stared at him in shock. You didn’t know what to say, you just sat on the couch, feeling like an outlier in your own home. 

Steve just stared at you, seeing you process what he had just said. He didn’t know how you would take it, but it seemed like you were taking it pretty well. He didn’t say anything else to you, he just grabbed his keys and shut the door behind him. Sam and Bucky were waiting for him at the bar, it was boys night and he was finally free from the leash of your relationship.

+++

You quickly grabbed your things from your side of the closet. You still didn’t feel the urge to cry about this relationship. Maybe because you already knew it was over subconsciously. Why cry over something that you were kind of expecting. 

You left his apartment an hour after Steve had left, with your two suitcases and a large bag filled to the brim in tow, you walked to the tower. It was a far walk, from Brooklyn to Mid-town Manhattan. You received so many strange looks because what kind of crazy person didn’t just call an Uber with all that stuff. 

It took you over an hour to reach the tower. You took the elevator up to your floor, constantly asking FRIDAY for updates of where everyone is inside the tower. Once you reached your floor, you requested FRIDAY to lock your floor to everyone until further notice, ban Steve from entering your floor, and disable people from requesting your location within the tower.

You placed all of your things inside your room, not having enough energy to put any of your things away. You walked over to your bathroom and started the shower, the heat as high as it would go.

You stood under the stream of burning water, you tried to avoid thinking of the situation. You still didn’t feel like crying, just the feeling of being numb and cold. You were probably cold because your insane ass walked from Brooklyn to Manhattan in a thin shirt and jeans. 

You turned the water off and changed into a teeshirt, crawling into your bed and requesting FRIDAY to close the curtains and not to open them until you were out of bed, whenever you awoke the next morning.

You laid in the darkness looking up at the ceiling, torturing yourself with the words Steve had said to you. Constantly replaying them inside your mind, hoping that he was lying, hoping that when you woke up the next morning that he would be laying next to you, holding you to his chest.

As you replayed the words in your head, you finally felt the tears coming on. You sobbed softly thinking of your failed relationship, thinking of what you did wrong. 

You finally fell asleep, cheeks wet from all the tears. Sleeping a dreamless sleep.

+++

Steve was drinking the mead Bucky had on hand, a welcome gift from Thor. They were in some club on the lower west side. Some blonde woman was sitting in his lap, talking about something Steve didn’t even care about. All he wanted to do was to sleep with her and kick her out. 

He didn’t care for anything at the moment, not when she had died at the cost of his stupidity. 

Janet, an inter who Fury had placed on the mission in Bolivia because he believed that she was ready to take on the mission with the supervision of Steve.

The first two weeks of the mission was filled with the sexual tension between the two. It happened after dinner had ended and Steve and Janet were buzzed, Steve had walked her back to her hotel room. She kissed Steve, and they ended up entangled in her sheets, any thoughts of you were completely forgotten by Steve. The night ended with the best sex of Steve’s night.

Once he woke up, he noticed that Janet was laying on his chest naked, and he was also naked. Steve had no regrets, he didn’t feel any remorse that he had cheated on you. So he continued the relationship with Janet, claiming that he didn’t love you anymore, that Janet made him feel something that you never made him feel. 

The night before they were meant to leave, Janet went to the local supermarket to get some wine and cheese for the two, to celebrate their relationship. Only to be shot and killed before she could even make it to the store. 

Steve was devastated that Janet had been killed, he mourned her death so painful. Steve genuinely believed that Janet was the love of his life.

Steve began getting annoyed of the blonde woman in his lap just chattering away, so he kissed her quiet, and took her back to her place, tidy and small. He would expect nothing more from a young woman working in some low-paying field, she had mentioned it but Steve was too caught up in his thoughts about Janet to even care about what she was saying.

As soon as Steve finished, he got up and left. He finally made it to his apartment, expecting you to be in the bedroom, but you weren’t here. Good, it's better that way, you were so unbelievably annoying that he could barely stand to be around you. 

He climbed into his bed, the sheets still smelled like your shampoo. He had to wash the sheets as soon as possible, whenever he found the time. 

+++

You had been in a dark place for the last 3 weeks, you had begged Fury to not place you on any mission, you explained the situation to him, with him being infuriated, almost going to the length of finding Steve and shooting him in the leg. 

You realized that you were in such a depressive state and hadn’t been taking care of yourself. In 3 weeks, you had barely eaten, showered, or spoken to anyone. 

You forced yourself to get up, shower, eat a proper meal, and go for a run. The amount of energy it took to even complete those tasks was so unbelievably exhausting that you only wanted to lay in bed all day and read.

You ended up calling Sharon, asking her to come to see you and hang out to take your mind off the hurt you were going through. You and she were friends, meeting each other during the SHIELD initiative. Sharon was always so kind to you, you could sense her attraction to your boyfriend but then again who would be. Well, ex-boyfriend.

You cried your heart out to Sharon, laying in your bed with her, while she stroked the back of your head trying to soothe you, you ended up asleep in her arms. You woke up to a clean room, and Sharon wasn’t in your bed. She was in your kitchen making something to eat you were guessing. 

“Hey N/n, you need to eat some dinner, I’m making spicy penne al vodka, it’s almost ready,” Sharon said while stirring the pot she was using. You took a seat at the counter, waiting to be served by your friend. You stared out the window, just wondering what Steve was doing right now.

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, hello,” Sharon waved her hand in your face. She was confused as to why you kept daydreaming, he left you, you should move on because he was a piece of shit anyways.

“I’m not hungry Shar, I ate earlier, I’ll just eat later,” You said while staring out the window.

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

[jawritter]

Born Under The Wrong Sign

Part 1

Summary: Dean Winchester, hunter, killer of Gods, demons, and monster, was born as an Omega. It never felt right, and he wants a change of biology. After all, just cause it's what we're assigned, it shouldn't identify who we are...

Pairing: Omega!Dean Winchester x Alpha!Reader

Written For: @spnkinkbingo​

Square field: Omegaverse

Word Count: 1833

Beta’d By: @miss-nerd95​! Thanks again hun!

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics​

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Identity Crisis? ABO Dynamics, smut, unprotected smut, mention of past abusive parents. John’s A+ parenting,  knotting, dirty talk, language, talk of sex change and presentation changes. Some self hate. I think that’s about it.

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve ever written like this one, even for ABO, and even though I’m sure they’re out there I’ve never read one quite like it. So, that being said, I’m pretty nervous about throwing this one out there for you guys! So I really do hope you enjoy it! Feedback is golden! Please do not copy my work! This is part 1, part 2 will drop later this week!!

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Being a hunter was hard, regardless of anyone's presentation. 

Dean had it a bit harder than most. It was bad enough when your father was John fucking Winchester, but if you were also born with the rare presentation of Omega, and you were a male on top of that, well, life was definitely not going to be in your favour. 

Dean had been able to hide his presentation from his father for the most part. He had presented late. He was already 19, and only just an year ago had endured his first heat, which nearly scared him to death because he had thought he was a Beta up until that point. 

Suppressants thankfully helped in keeping his scent from his Alpha father and Sammy was usually at Bobby’s most of the time. It was a lot harder to hide things from his little brother because he was with him 90 percent of the time, and had a knack to call him out when Dean was hiding something. 

Why couldn’t he just be born a Beta? Hell, nothing was better than this, was it.  

Male Omegas were rare, very rare, and usually went unwanted and almost never found a mate. It was almost impossible to find an Alpha female, because they were almost as rare as an Omega male and Dean had never been with a man before. It scared the fuck out of him that one day he might have to do just that in order to survive a heat. Then throwing pups into the equation with the life he lived and a not so supportive father? Fuck… This was bad, and he had to hide it and fight his biology as long as possible. 

The night John found him in heat in a Denver motel room when he was only 22 years old was a night he tried to respress. John had been so...angry. Dean thought he was going to beat him to death; he was so angry. How could the son of John Winchester be a Beta after all? That was unacceptable. 

It took almost a year for his father to look him in the eye again, and he had to work extra hard to prove that he could still follow orders, and could still hunt. It took him even longer to prove that his Omega presentation didn’t make him weaker than the Alphas they hunted with as well, and that he could hold his own. 

Dean was larger than any male Omega they had ever seen, and that was a good thing.  It meant John could hide the fact that his son was an Omega from other hunters. He was also just as strong as any Alpha male, and could carry himself with the same dominating demeanor when he needed too. It was a prodigy of being a child of war really. Cause that’s what this was, wasn’t it? War? 

Years after John’s death, when Dean was around 35, he met you. 

At first, he thought you were another Omega because you were too small and petite for an Alpha. That was until he caught your scent anyway. It threw him into an immediate heat, and he knew you were his. You took a little convincing, but after a while you came around to claiming your Omega. It was the first real knot Dean had ever taken, you made sure to keep his claiming mark low, because an Omega male hunter around other hunters was probably the equivalent of a black spot on a pirate. They would surely stop respecting him, if not kill him. 

For years now, whenever Dean’s heat would come close, the two of you would go and hide away in one of Bobby’s old cabins so that you could take care of your Omega, and he’d be safe during his heat. 

Pups were not an option for a hunter, regardless of whether the Omega was male or female. It just wasn’t wise. Dean was absolutely not for having pups, being knotted was nothing more than a means to an end for him, and he worked extra hard to keep up with all birth control. You even made sure to take it yourself, because being a female Alpha, you still oddly ran the risk of pregnancy, even if it were rare and a lot harder than it was for Dean to get pregnant, with him wanting no slips whatsoever. It was just too dangerous. 

Normally you got through Dean’s heat without much trouble, in fact you enjoyed your time during them with him. It was the only time Dean would ever let his guard down and let you take care of him the way an Alpha should of their Omega. 

This time though, it was different. The fever was a lot higher than usual. Dean was a lot more needy, and this heat was long, longer than his average anyway, and even Dean was getting frustrated. 

As you lay on the bed next to him now, your knot still holding his body in place to your own, and your fingers brushing through his sweat dampened hair, you couldn’t help but notice how sad he looked. Honestly, it killed you. You wanted to make it better for him. 

You’d reverse the roles if you could. You really would. You wouldn’t mind being an Omega, because in truth you hated being a female Alpha. There was no respect there as an Alpha, and it was tiring. 

“You know, people are born the wrong genders. Males can sometimes identify as females and vice versa all the time. Do you think it’s possible to be born with the wrong presentation?” Dean asked, his voice low, as if he was ashamed of even thinking of the question. 

You knew how Dean felt about his presentation, but you never would have guessed he would  ask you that question, and for a moment it stumped you. Slowly, as to not hurt him, you withdrew his length from your body as your knot subsided, not bothering to get dressed because you knew he was going to need you again in less than an hour. 

“Dean, I don’t know,” you told him honestly. “I mean, there’s a lot more than hormones and physical attributes that make up your presentation. It’s not as simple as a few operations and some hormone replacement therapy to change your biology. It’s something that’s part of you on a molecular level. I mean, what people who go through those types of changes is anything but easy, and they are damn brave for doing them, but as far as a presentation? I don’t know babe. That seems almost impossible.”

A high pitched whine escaped from his lips before he nuzzled deeper into your hair, and you couldn’t tell if it was his heat making him uncomfortable again, or if he was just that disappointed. 

“If I ever found a way, would you still love me?” he asked, and you felt as if you had been kicked in the face. How could you not love him? He was a part of you. He was your everything, and if he found a way to change his presentation you wouldn’t love him any less if it made him happier. Hell, you’d love to change yours too! So how could he even ask you that question? What had you done wrong for him to think that?

“Dean,” you coo, coaxing him out of your neck where he was scenting you and forcing him to look at you. 

You could see the Omega beneath was already crawling it’s way back towards the surface, and his cock was already twitching against your thigh, so you rolled him over on his back and start licking and kissing your way down his body until you reach his throbbing length, taking him in your hands and pumping him slowly before giving the tip a few kitten licks; reveling in the groan that fell from his lips. 

“I’d love you no matter what presentation you would be. You know damn well I’d love to change mine if I could. How could I hate you. You’re mine. You were literally created for me, and whether I’m calling you Alpha, Omega or Beta makes no difference to me,” you tell him earnestly before taking his length as deep into your mouth as you could, sucking until he was clawing at the sheets beneigh thim. 

“Fuck Alpha! Please! I need your knot,” Dean whimpered as he keened and arched into your touch as you licked your way up his torso to his lips, giving him a taste of himself as you captured his lips in yours before you sunk down on his ready length; swallowing up his little moans as you did . 

“Gonna take good care of you Omega, and after this heat is over, we will see what we can do about that presentation problem. I promise.”

Dean's groans and grunts turned into a deep moan as you started to ride him earnestly, rising and falling on his cock at a faster pace with each passing minute. You ran your fingers over the pebbled skin of his chest as goose bumps arose with every wave of pleasure that racked through his body. God he was so beautiful, it was almost painful. 

“You like that, baby,” you purred, leaning down long enough to run your tongue over his claiming mark, making him keen and grip your lips bruisingly. “Like the thought of me spread out real pretty for you, begging for your knot.”

“Fuck Alpha,” Dean cried, shuddering underneath you as you slowled your hips to an agonlizingly slowly roll over his, teasing him, and dragging out his release before your knot could lock you together again. 

“Bet you do like that don’t you? Bet you would love to have fucking spread open on your knot, milking you and letting you fill me with your pups; calling me a good little Omega.”

Dean’s orgasm raced through his body as he cried out, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as your knot locked the two of you in place, and your own release made you breathless. 

You helped Dean ride out his high, and when he fully came down, he slid the two of you on your sides so that you could lay there comfortably until you were able to release him. 

“I love you Dean, I always will,” you promised him. “When this is over, I'll do everything in my power to fulfill my promise.”

Dean nuzzled into your hold, and you could feel his body instantly start to cool as his heat finally waned, allowing him to fall into an almost immediate sleep. 

People should be identified by their genders, they should have the right to say when something feels off or different. Why should Dean and yourself be subjected to a biology that you don’t belong to. 

There had to be a way, and you wouldn’t stop until you found it.

Forever Tags: 

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ABO Dean fics:

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ABO Forever: 

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[wiypt-writes]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.  Day 24: That’s A Wrap

Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  And here we are, the final instalment of our Ransom advent. I have had an absolute ball writing these, although this one was a struggle as I’m a little down at the moment about my other blog and losing all my previous works. However, it’s Christmas Eve so I’ve got some prosecco, gingerbread and I’m ready for Santa.

Huge thank you to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @ohthankevans13​ for their amazing chapters to, and thank you all for reading.

Merry Christmas everyone.

 The credits to National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation started, signalling the end to the film and you stretched and looked at Ransom, grinning.

“That was nothing like what happened to me with the lights.” He drawled as he turned his head to look at you, blue eyes locking onto yours.

“You’re lying to yourself, Ran.” You shrugged with a giggle. “You know, I think Hugh Griswold has a ring to it.”

“Eat shit, Y/N”

At that you laughed and swung your legs down to the floor from where they has been resting over his as you lay on the couch. “Think I’m gonna take a bath and get in my new jammies.”

“What’s the point?” Ransom turned to you. “I’m only going to strip you out of them later.”

You completely ignored his suggestive comment, because really, who were you trying to kid? It was as much a forgone conclusion he’d have you naked and crying his name later that evening, as it was that he was going to end up arguing with his parents over dinner tomorrow. Yeah, that wasn’t exactly something you were looking forward to but thankfully your parents were going to be there to help you play peacemaker.

“The point, dearest hubs of mine, is that it’s Christmas Eve and it’s a tradition as you well know that we get new jammies.”

“Mine better be tasteful.” Ransom looked at you and at that you simply shrugged and stood up. “I’ll call you if I get stuck in the tub.”

“How long you gonna be?” Ransom asked

“Does it matter?”

“In a word, yes. I need to wrap your presents.”

You blinked and then snorted “I thought after last year you were going to use a gift wrapping service at the Mall?”

“I did for some.” He shrugged. “But there’s a something that only arrived yesterday and-“

“I knew it!” You shook your head. “That package was for me!”

“No, it was for me. To give to you. Now go, piss off for your bath.” *****

Once you were out of the way Ransom, knowing you would be at least an hour, grabbed himself a scotch and sat down in the living room, flicking through some news from the Country Club about the New Year’s Eve gala, and a few other emails on his phone. Once he had finished, he refilled his glass and headed to the spare room where he had hidden your gifts in a locked suitcase. You were a pain in the ass for finding them and then trying to pick at the corners to see what they were and after last year, when you’d totally ruined the surprise of the new pair of Louboutins he had spent ages agonising over, not to mention the fact you’d blatantly been expecting the La Perle bra and panties, nor were you overly surprised at the three piece Louis Vuitton luggage set.

Nope, he was taking no chances. He was excited this year, too. He’d bought you a gorgeous Tiffany necklace and bangle set, one you’d been eyeing up in the Mall a few months back, along with some high end make up only available in two stores in the entire of Boston, a huge bottle of Chanel perfume and a stupidly expensive espresso machine which had caught his eye. It matched the colour scheme in your kitchen and eliminated the need for stupid filter papers as it operated off pods and he’d even had a demonstration from the spotty assed teenager in the shop so he was perfectly geared up and fully aware of how to use it. But all that was wrapped already, it was what had arrived yesterday that he was most excited about. It was an order all the way from a little tea shop in Covent Garden you had dragged him to earlier in the year, on the trip to London during which you had fallen pregnant. It was a custom made wooden box full of specialists teas which, try as you might, you had failed to find anywhere back home once you had run out of the ones you had bought back with you. Yup, He’d come a long way from the days of buying you crotch-less underwear, sex toys and lube. Making his way back into the living room he placed the gift wrapped items under the tree and then grabbed the sheets of paper, tape and scissors and dropped onto the floor by the fire. Some other shitty movie was playing on the TV now so he changed the channel over to a replay of the Christmas Special for the Great British Baking Show that you’d gotten him hooked on, before tossing the remote aside. Placing the box on the paper he began to wrap. It should have been easy. It was a fucking box but after four attempts the only think he’d managed to wrap were his fingers together with tape about sixty times and the box was no closer to being wrapped than before. In a huge bout of frustration he grabbed the paper, scrunched it round the box and taped round it about twenty times. It looked like it had been wrapped by Edward Scissorhands during an epileptic fit, but whatever. With a final groan of frustration he tossed the box under the tree, and then frowned as the TV turned off. Ransom glanced round for the remote but it was nowhere to be found. Cursing he stood up, checked behind all the cushions and even retraced his steps through the house but nothing. “For fucks sake!” He growled, hands on his hips as he stared round the living room. He had definitely had it before as he changed that shitty movie off before he wrapped... Oh, hell no! “Fuck my mother fucking life!” He spat out as he stalked towards the package he had just tossed under the tree and grabbed it. ***** By the time you came back downstairs Ransom was lounging back on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, drink in hand. He looked up at you and snorted, taking in your fluffy Christmas themed Mini-Mouse pyjamas as they stretched over your now rather huge bump. “Do you want a drink or something, Princess?” “Erm, you know, I think I’ll grab a chamomile tea.” You nodded after a while and Ransom smiled and stood up. “I got something for you.” You snorted. “I’m not falling for that again.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean my dick, Y/N.” He took your hand and led you to the kitchen where you spotted a shiny, deep brown box. Frowning you looked at your husband before you walked over to it and gave a gasp when you saw the Nelson and Norfolk Tea Company logo carved into the wood. “How did you get these?” You managed to stutter as you opened the clasp and pulled up the lid to reveal four rows which were then split further into three, each square of different flavoured, individually packed tea bags, lined with a deep purple velvet. “You know how. I had them shipped over.” “Ransom, these...” You struggled for words as you turned to face him, blinking back the tears that had sprung forth from his thoughtfulness. “I love them, thank you.” “You’re welcome, baby.” He smiled genuinely as you moved and wrapped your arms around him and stood on your toes to give him a soft kiss. “Wait.” You cocked your head as you pulled away. “Were you wrapping these?”

“Yup.” He nodded “But I had an incident involving the remote and no spare paper so you get them tonight instead.” You gave a chuckle. “Just another in a long list of real life tasks you have taken on and spectacularly failed at, huh?” “Hey, some of them I’ve managed.” He huffed and you smiled, running your hand up through his hair. “I know, and I never said this before but I’m so touched you actually tried, even when you failed, it shows you care.” “Of course I care.” His face grew serious as he looked at you. “You’re my wife and you’re carrying my kid. I’ll always care about you both, Y/N, even if I’m not the best at showing it.” “You show it in your own way.” You smiled gently, leaning up to kiss him again. “Merry Christmas, Ransom.” “Merry Christmas, baby girl.” He smiled, his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss, both of you stood in the kitchen as the snow fell outside. He might be a huge man baby, but he’s your huge man baby. And you wouldn’t change him for the world

[illshowyourhurricanes]

Snapshots

I’m trying something new with our love Billy Russo here. His broken mind does eventually wake up to memories, flashbacks, random moments and experiences in his life. This series of one-shots, drabbles, etc-- most likely unrelated-- is going to basically give insight into some of those re-encountered memories. 

Rating: PG-13: language, mentions of sex

Word count: 910

Tag list: @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @logans-deloss @lexxierave @madamrogers @gollyderek @yannii04 @carlaangel86 @vetseras @maydayfigment @thisisparadisemylove @malionnes @thesandbeneathmytoes @tenhargreeves @luminex3 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @witchygagirl @fific7 @everything-lost-and-unsaid @pheedraws @my-rosegold-soul @commanderlola @leeanncodes @citrusmun @bisexual-space-slut

If you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list, please send me an ask.

Thanks for reading!

 (1)

"Lieutenant William Russo."

Her voice was thick with disgust; her expression no more than a sneer. 

Billy waited. He waited for her eyes-- those intoxicating eyes-- to focus on his face, for her mind-- her brilliant mind-- to register what she was seeing.  

“How unfortunate."

She stayed there, standing in the threshold of the entrance to her penthouse suite, and as the seconds ticked by, her sneer turned into a gratified smirk. Billy Russo was hideous; he was ruined. His face had been mangled. He’d been shot and cut and the evidence of that was all over his once flawless face. It used to make her heart race, back before the mere thought of him made her stomach turn. 

But now… now his face wasn’t so perfect. In fact, it was marred with scars— thick, pink, evident scars, the tissue that had been stitched together puckering in jagged lines. She focused on one in particular, high up on his forehead and dangerously close to his hairline. He was wearing a beanie, but she suspected his always styled hair was something else he’d lost. 

The satisfaction she felt was impossible to hide. What had happened to Billy wasn’t just fitting, but sadistically amusing. “What a shame, you used to be so pretty.” 

Billy’s nostrils flared. He stood to his full height— no more slumping of his shoulders, no more averting his eyes— and his gaze went straight to hers. He was staring her down just like she was him, and she saw his jaw flex. What really jarred her, if just for two seconds, was the look in his eyes. He could play angry, but she knew that look because she'd become quite acquainted with it from looking in the mirror. It was shame. And never had she seen Billy Russo with shame in his eyes. She found herself pushing back from the threshold of the door, turning away and walking inside. Whatever he wanted, he wasn’t getting.

Standing outside the door was enough for Billy. It was darker there, and though he had his hoodie pulled up over his head, he preferred standing in the shadows. It reminded him of being in combat, staying hidden from the enemy, a phantom until they rounded a corner. Then, he was the face of death. Now, the shadows hid part of his ugliness. 

Even so, he stepped inside after lingering outside for a few moments, squinting as his eyes got acclimated to the light inside. The kitchen was alight, and the open floor plan allowed Billy to see through the penthouse to the living room, the floor-to-ceiling windows presenting the celebrated New York City skyline to any onlooker inside. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he seemed almost transfixed by his surroundings. Eyes narrowed, his eyes darted around his surroundings, an eerie familiarity settling over him like a foggy morning mist. 

She saw his expression out of her periphery and smirked. She felt a soar of satisfaction in her chest and retrieved her wine glass from the counter where she'd placed it when she got the door. 

“I made some changes,” she said, turning around to admire the view for herself. “Just a few— new furniture, those couches you had were too dark. They were doing the lighting a disservice.” Turning her head to look at him, her attention strayed, focused at the scarring on his cheek. He’d been so carelessly and messily stitched. “I always hated those couches. I’m not one to hide my distaste.”

Finally, he blinked and turned to look at her head on. Reaching upward, he pushed the hoodie from his head and ran a palm over his scalp. Shrugging his left shoulder— it ached— he settled his gaze on her own. She'd told him why this place gave him that odd feeling; she'd connected the dots without Billy saying a word. This penthouse— her penthouse— had once been his. 

He remembered fragments of stories he’d been told: a company, Anvil, one he’d built from the ground up with money he’d sold himself for. A CEO, filthy rich and powerful witt his tailor-made designer suits, ridiculously expensive cars, woman after woman after woman… his penthouse. 

She saw something new in his eyes, an amalgamation of emotions all built into one look. She saw regret. She saw shame. And she caught something all too familiar, so strikingly Billy, she felt chill bumps pop up over her spine— she saw a flash of anger. 

“This place is mine.” Billy spoke through clenched teeth. His eyes never wavered from hers. He’d looked around his surroundings enough, noticed some things unchanged that incited a recognition so strong, it was visceral. He may not remember how it became his—he supposed it had something to do with this Anvil operation he was told about—but the semantics of how meant nothing to Billy then. For months, how and why had been all he cared about. 

“Was yours, Lieutenant.” Her voice was smooth, cool. She enjoyed taunting him; she found pleasure in it. “A lot of things were yours.” Her eyes were ice cold, but beyond that, they held a haughty look of pride. “Look at you now.” Boldly, she reached for his face, and with one fingertip, traced the crooked, puckered scar over his left cheek. Billy Russo was destroyed. And nothing had given her as much pleasure—except, perhaps, the countless nights they’d spent tangled in sheets and in one another. It had been a lifetime ago. 

[collecting-stories]

3am Friend - c. 01 - Topper Thornton

Summary: Topper and y/n have been in a “friends with benefits” relationship since September but the line between friendship and something more are already starting to blur. 

A/N: This is basically four chapters: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Also it’s going to be a bit of a practice run at writing more smut for me lol. Also it’s smut like, right under the cut lol. 

Sophomore Year Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

What were you doing with your life...

You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Topper’s tongue pressed against your clit, the cold tiled wall of the shower stall pressing into your back had your skin erupting in goosebumps, a contrast to the almost burning water that was hitting you. It was futile to bother concealing whatever noises Topper managed to pull out of you, the curtains of the shower stalls did little to shield their occupants from the rest of the communal bathroom, the plastic more often than not creating the perfect outline of whoever decided to use the showers. There would be no mistaking you, pressed against the wall, one leg tossed over Topper’s shoulder, his own figure silhouetted, kneeling in front of you with his hands digging into your hips.  

If anyone did find you there was a 90% chance that they weren’t just going to let you off with a ‘sorry for intruding while some guy eats you out in the shower’ but any concern you actually had about the consequences of your hookup had died the minute Topper had joined you in the shower stall. Technically he’d texted you to come over to his dorm, he lived right off the main campus, close to your building, in a still operational fraternity house. He split a room with some guy who liked to stare but never actually talk when you came around. Yours was not a relationship of anything substantial. You’d hooked up with Topper at a party and exchanged numbers and, two days later, responded to a very obvious booty call at one in the morning.  

“Holy shit!” You cursed, your voice coming out an octave higher than usual, fingers gripping Topper’s short blond hair. You could feel every muscle in your body tense as you tried to keep yourself upright, your other hand grabbing hold of the dial on the faucet in a desperate attempt to not completely fall apart as Topper sucked on your clit. He had moved one of his hands at some point, middle finger now moving rhythmically in and out of your entrance, working you through an orgasm.  

When you came down, your muscles relaxing and you pushing back against the wall to keep yourself steady, leg slipping off Topper’s shoulder, he stood up. He caged you in almost immediately, moving as close as possible in the stall and kissing you, the salty taste of cum still there on his mouth. “That pad really comes in handy,” he teased, referring to the silicone mat you’d bought two weeks earlier to scrub your feet without trying to do a yoga pose in the shower.  

You hummed, “I’ll leave that in my review on Amazon. Great for not bruising your knees.” When he kissed you again you smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. This was the worst part. The part when you ran out of things to say and he would untangle himself from your arms and leave, promise to text you later.  

It was the thing that your roommate had warned you about in the beginning that you had ignored.  

“That’s like, not even friends with benefits though.” She had admonished when you told her for the first time that you had started this bizarre relationship with Topper. “I mean, you’re literally having casual sex with some rando guy that you hooked up with at a party. At a frat party. Do you even fucking know anything about him?”

“I know his name,” you had replied, rummaging through your closet to find something to wear to class, “and his phone number so I can booty call him.”

“Brilliant.” She snapped, “he could be some fucking weirdo axe murderer preying on college girls.”  

You rolled your eyes, “he’s the same age as us.” You had never been one for casual sex in your life until this point and you weren’t sure why it seemed enticing now but you wanted to branch out a little. You’d gotten your first boyfriend in ninth and you’d stuck with him until August of this, your sophomore year of college. He broke up with you, claiming the distance between your school and his was too much for him to deal with.  

It was your roommate that had dragged you to the party at the fraternity house, claiming that it would get your mood up after the guy you’d been with for the last five years decided he couldn’t do the 2 hour commute between your school and his. Three shots of tequila later and the blond you couldn’t take your eyes off of asking if you wanted to ‘go somewhere quiet’ were all the motivation you needed to put the past behind you and stop groveling over a guy who wasn’t even there.  

Still, the fact remained, even now as Topper put his hands on your hips, looking at you through the mirror and kissing the back of your head, you knew that casual sex was not your forte. Not simply because you had never done it before but because you found yourself craving those small, just after when the bubble had broken yet and there was still some lingering affection, moments as much as you craved the sex. But you had both agreed, casual. Something to take your mind off school for a few hours, a stress relief. For you it was more than that. You’d never been the most confident when it came to sex or your body, all that self-love/self-care crap was wasted on you and your gnawing insecurities. Having casual sex was like constantly challenging yourself to be your most exposed and most intimate with someone who was still relatively a stranger to you.  

“You know I think it was technically supposed to be my turn,” you mentioned, running the wide-toothed comb through your hair. You should’ve detangled in the shower except that wasn’t really top priority. What would you even say, ‘oh, would you mind not eating me out for a second so I can brush my hair’…you’d live with the awkward waves that dried in.  

“I thought we switched.” Topper shrugged, pulling his sweatpants back on. His shirt went over his head and you involuntarily pouted at the mirror, there went the view.  

“No, I said…this doesn’t technically count.” You replied, referring to the party three nights earlier and the head you’d given to avoid having actual sex on your period. You were at the tail end and you’d contemplated not going to the frat house at all but changed your mind at the last moment.  

“Hey, if you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn you down.” He joked.  

You turned to look at him, the mirror not sufficing as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “I have a test tomorrow, I have to study.”  

“Come over, you can study in my room. We’ll hang out.”  

“We are incapable of hanging out Topper.” You replied, grabbing your shower caddy and heading for the door. He walked right out after you, both of you ignoring the rather appreciative stare of one of the other girls on your floor.  

“Not true,” he’d suffered a nasty break-up in high school that he gave no more background to other than to say she had cheated on him extensively. Casual seemed to be the best he could allow himself to do though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and, as far as you knew, neither was he.  

Your roommate looked up from her desk, rolling her eyes at the sight of Topper following you into your dorm. In the beginning of September, when this first started, it felt like you only ever disappeared at night. You saw Topper when he texted you and you might smile in the café but you never actively sought each other out. Now it was creeping toward November though, with Halloween right around the corner, and Topper felt like an accessory. He was always right there wherever you were, not that you were complaining. To anyone on the outside you looked like a couple but you both maintained the friends with benefits story.  

“Oh look who it is.” Almost two whole months of him and your roommate still greeted Topper with a disdainful glare. She was fervent in her belief that the guy you thought was damn near perfect (if only he’d actually date you) was hiding some deep-seated flaw.  

“Hey G,” Topper greeted, taking a seat on your bed as if he couldn’t tell just how annoyed your roommate was.  

-

Geena and you had been thrown together after enduring a freshman year from hell. Her roommate from the year prior had been awful, like caging yourself in with some 00’s mean girl who only found satisfaction in watching you suffer. Your own freshman roommate had been neurotic about the dorm and constantly scrutinized whether your cleaning methods were sufficient. Geena was a blessing, you got along well, hung out all the time, had become fast friends in the short time since the beginning of the semester. Topper was the only thing you didn’t agree on. She thought it was unhealthy, that it would only lead to heartbreak.  

“You can’t have casual sex with a guy for three years…people already think you’re dating. Some girl I don’t even know asked me if I could get her into a Phi Sig party next week cause my roomie is dating one of the guys.” There was a new reason almost daily with Geena, like she tore away a new page on the calendar and it offered up cons to your relationship with Topper in lieu of a word for the day.  

“I can ask for her.”  

“Oh my god, that is not the point.” She snapped.  

You sighed, “I don’t really care if people think we’re dating.”

“Why?” She asked the question so smugly you already knew where she was going with this. And you knew why it didn’t bother you that people thought you were dating, why you sometimes even fanned that flame.  

“G-“

“No, tell me why? People usually keep that shit quiet so they can hook-up with other people too. So why don’t you care?”  

“Because if people think we’re dating…they won’t try to date him.” You shrugged, practically mumbling the last part. You hated that she knew that off the bat, that she could tell that you liked him so much in such a short span of time. And you knew she had a point to all her antagonizing. You had been in too deep since two weeks into September when he told you that you looked pretty in something your ex always said made you look fat.  

-

You held the seam of your towel shut as you rummaged through the set of plastic drawers underneath your bed. Geena had done the bed on risers thing for optimal storage and you had followed along, semi grateful for the added space since both of you seemed inclined to transport your entire bedroom with you. Topper’s foot nudged your side as you got closer to him and you looked up, matching his smile when you caught him staring at you. You were sure Geena was sitting behind you rolling her eyes.  

“Guess I’ll go grab something to eat.” She announced, as if your very presence had worn her down.  

“I’m just getting changed, I think we’re heading over to Topper’s.” You replied, looking back over your shoulder at her.  

Geena scrunched her nose and stood up anyway, “still would rather not be here while you got dressed so I don’t have to pretend like I can’t see this one leering at you.” She shot Topper a look of contempt as she passed. If it was real, if he asked you out and he was really, actually, your boyfriend, Geena was positive she’d have no problems with him. He seemed like alright and he certainly made you happier and more confident than she’d seen you in the beginning of the year. But she hated the thought of you getting hurt and didn’t want to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it happen.

“I don’t leer.” He joked, turning back to you once she was out the door, “I don’t leer.”

You didn’t answer, instead grabbing your underwear out of the top drawer and pulling them on once the door was shut. The first time you had ever gotten dressed with Topper around you’d made sure that you were obscured from view, still too bashful and self-conscious of the way that you looked without clothes on. There was still that split second moment when you doubted yourself, when you thought about maneuvering your towel to hide your body from view, as if after two months Topper might suddenly look at you and decide he didn’t like the softness of your stomach or the width of your hips or any other imperfection you could find.  

You pushed through the voice though, dropping your towel and getting dressed. When you reached for the bralette your tossed on the bed beside him you realized he was looking at you. “G might have a point, maybe I should turn around.” You teased, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.  

“I’m admiring the view.” Topper replied, not at all embarrassed at being caught.  

You rolled your eyes, pulling your bralette on and adjusting your boobs until it sat right. “I don’t even know why I’m putting this on,” you mentioned, grabbing his sweatshirt to pull on over it, “I should just stop wearing underwear to your room and then I won’t ever lose it.”  

“You lose stuff? Whose wearing my hoodie right now?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the hood to pull you closer to him.  

“Your room has swallowed three of my bras...the nice ones too. Or Will like, took them.” You said.  

If there was some kind of formal set of rules that you and Topper had ever thought to draft, kissing outside of actually having sex with each other should have qualified as a major no. But nothing of the sort had ever been discussed and now, Topper leaned over, stealing a quick kiss before he got off your bed. Maybe now didn’t count as a ‘just friends’ moment though since technically you were heading back to his room, presumably to have sex. To finish what he’d started when he showed up seconds before you got a shower.  

“What would Will need your bras for?”

“To masturbate over? Who knows...all I’m saying is, I wear bras to your room, I never seem to leave with them.” You replied.  

“I promise I will find all your missing bras today, okay?” He grabbed your lanyard off the hook, keys and wallet all in one place, pulling the door open for you. “Wanna grab pizza later?”  

You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting a beat to answer him. Grabbing pizza meant, inevitably, hanging out after. Becoming friends was unavoidable, there was no way that either of you could have navigated sleeping together without some sort of relationship forming. So far it was only friendship, or at least that was all either of you were willing to let it be. Anything more than that meant an actual romantic relationship forming, something you wanted but were determined not to let yourself even entertain the idea of.  

“Fine but not from that place by Barnaby's.” You replied, pushing the door open and stepping out into the quad with him. The local bar was always teeming with college students and the last thing you wanted was someone recognizing Topper, because everyone always seemed to recognize Topper, and invite the two of you in.  

“We’ll just get it delivered.” He shrugged.  

The first time you met Topper, enough to tequila to not make you totally embarrassed as you danced with Geena in the main room of the Phi Sig frat house, you had laughed when he told you his name. It was a combination of the heels you borrowed from another girl on your floor and the alcohol that had you losing your footing, catching yourself in time not to smash your whole body into a coffee table, and landing on the couch beside Topper. He was taking a sip of beer and looked relatively startled when some almost drunk girl fell into the spot next to him.  

“Sorry!” You’d shouted over the bass as you tried to undo the straps of the heels that you were sure were also guilty of twisting your ankle.  

When he introduced himself two sentences later, “I’m Topper” you couldn’t resist a good dad-joke and smiled at him, “but I hardly know her!”

“Amazing.” He had been less amused by the joke than you were though he didn’t really seem bothered by it, at least not bothered enough to move on because he stayed on the couch for three more turns of the conversation before asking if you wanted to talk elsewhere. You were sober enough to know exactly what he meant and obliged because you were still kinda pissed at your ex and you didn’t want this year to pass the same as last year had, with nothing but school work to show as a passing of time.  

At least you’d have a good story to tell.  

Highschool you had a healthy apprehension of frat houses and the people who lived in them. You’d seen enough episodes of CSI, Law and Order, Veronica Mars, and any other crime show that existed in the early 00’s to know that frat houses were breeding grounds for terrible things. Your parents had even attempted to sway you from going to your first-choice college simply because the greeks still existed on campus. You could only imagine what they’d think now, knowing that you had spent more time in Topper’s room than you had in your own in the last month at least.  

Frat houses might’ve been sordid in your mind but so far, your reality of this one was exactly what it looked like on the surface, a bunch of guys living together with limited supervision. You still stuck to Topper whenever you were inside but you’d never had a problem with anyone in there and you rightly assumed that most of them just figured you were his girlfriend.  

“Will told me he wants that TA position next year, with Prof Berkley.” You mentioned, flopping back onto Topper’s bed and tilting your head so you could look over to the empty other side of the room that belonged to his roommate. Aside from staring at you too much and possibly stealing your bras, you still had a hunch that Topper was just messing with you and had them stashed away somewhere, Will was alright. You were both in the same area of study, pre-law, and he had told you days earlier that he was gunning for the same TA position with your advisor as you were.  

“I don’t know anything about it.” Topper replied, kicking his slides off and climbing onto his bed with you. The countdown in your head started now, hopefully soon you would be naked.  

“Yes, you do because I literally told you about it at breakfast.” You pointed out. He’d texted you that morning to get coffee with him and you ignored Geena when she told you that sex-friends don’t get coffee together. “I said I was applying for the TA spot because it’s a massive opportunity.”  

“Sounds like something I don’t have an opinion on.” He said, rolling over so that he could kiss you. “Enough chit-chat.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind Thornton.” You joked, moving your arms above your head as he pulled his sweatshirt off of you.  

“Well can I interest you in getting on that track with me?” He replied, lips brushing over your neck as he spoke. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup before you left your dorm, you hadn’t even bothered to dry your hair all the way. But who were you to worry about things like that when Topper was pushing your bralette up over your head.  

You jerked slightly, wriggling around on the bed when the fabric got caught half way up your arms, binding them above your head and covering your face, Topper taking advantage of the moment and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as you arched your back into him. “Topper!” You whined.  

He hummed, pulling away from you to take the bralette the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed, “sorry, couldn’t resist.” He said, smiling at you as if he truly couldn’t resist. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.  

You didn’t let yourself have the moment though, pulling him in for a kiss the moment he had untangled you, hand on the back of his neck as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, biting gently as you pulled away. Topper held himself up on one elbow, his other hand pushing passed your sweatpants.  

“Always right down to business,” you teased.  

“What do you want me to take you out first?” He was joking, you knew that, but the way he said almost sounded like he truly would take you out if you wanted him to. But then what would this be, if you had dinner before you hooked up.

“Some foreplay would be nice.” You kept the conversation light, the way you always did, and he laughed.  

“I thought the shower was foreplay.”  

You would’ve answered, thought of something witty to make him laugh again, but he had pushed your underwear to the side, fingers pushing passed your folds to brush your clit. He made the same satisfied hum that he always did when he realized that you were wet, like a quiet pat on the back. His middle finger circled your clit, a barely there shudder of nerves setting off in your stomach as you moaned.  

“I was supposed to,” you managed as he shifted further down the bed and you realized what he was doing.  

“We have plenty of time.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your stomach.  

Topper hadn’t seriously dated anyone since his break-up with Sarah. Kelce told him constantly that he was putting too much on that relationship, as if it was the holy grail by which to rate every other relationship that he had. And maybe he was allowing himself to be too scorned by something that lasted little more than a summer but he couldn’t help it. Topper was nothing if not a hopeless romantic and that had felt like such an idealistic time in his life until it all inevitably crashed around him.  

He tried casual hook-ups before you. A few girls from high school that he knew that made it practically impossible for the casual to still exist alongside the hook-up. College was easier but freshman year had been mostly dedicated to rushing the fraternity that his dad and grandfather and great grandfather had all rushed before him. Then he met you at a party in the beginning of sophomore year and he told himself it was casual but he knew that this was far from it.  

You weren’t anything like Sarah and maybe he had done that on purpose. Specifically slept with someone that didn’t remind him of anyone back home as some way to separate himself from that part of his life. To fully embody the frat boy, jock, life he was trying to live through. He figured it would just be a onetime thing and then maybe a sometime thing but now it was most definitely an all the time thing. Kelce told him that he should just ask you out but Topper felt like he was in too deep already.  

This was supposed to be strictly friends with benefits, if he crossed that line and you said no he would be crushed.  

“Topper,” you moaned, bringing him back to the moment. You shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of you, placing a kiss just below your belly button. When you tugged at the short blond hairs at the back of his head he shifted, letting you lead him back up so that you could kiss him.  

You had told him specifically that it was your turn, as if he really cared about taking turns at all. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You don’t have some fussy girlfriend bitching about giving you head.” Rafe’s colourful comments about the situation had been largely ignored but Topper knew, less crudely, he was right. The whole reason the two of you had started this was for sex of any kind and you had been the one to suggest taking turns.  

“My ex wasn’t very forthcoming with praise. He always told me I was kinda shitty at sucking dick so, maybe it’d be kinda nice to practice.” It’s been a colourful sentiment, one you had felt oddly comfortable sharing with Topper when the two of you first sat in his room discussing the arrangement.  

And while he wholeheartedly disagreed with your ex-boyfriend, Topper just liked being the one to give. He liked that moment when everything overwhelmed you enough that you let go and stopped worrying about if you looked attractive in a certain position or if your thighs were too big or if you had any unwanted rolls. That split second between overthinking and not thinking at all was powerful and Topper liked being the one who caused it. He liked the way you looked in his bed, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet so other guys in the house didn’t hear you. The way your hair tangled just from laying on your back. He could list a million things, every one more obscure, less noticeable, than the last because he felt like when you were around all he could do was pay attention.  

“Hey, quit daydreaming about Hailey Bieber-“ you teased as Topper’s movements slowed down, his lips brushing languidly against your collar like he was in some lethargic trance.  

He squeezed your side, baring his teeth to nip at your neck, scraping them across your skin and making you laugh as you turned your head towards his. That lazy smile you got was there, eyes hooded as you watched him, the moment passed and he leaned in to kiss you again. When he broke away it was only to grab a condom from the box on his dresser.  

Topper pushed your legs apart, settling between them. He slipped one hand beneath your back, guiding it into an arch to bring your chest closer to him, mouth finding one of your breasts. His tongue pressed against your nipple, swirling around it as you dug your nails in the sheets beneath you. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, as he pushed you back down against the bed. “God,” he breathed out, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”  

You grabbed the back of Topper’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, slower than the ones before, more tender. Your other hand moved down between your bodies, finding his dick, enjoying the way he moaned against your mouth as you guided him in. Despite the orgasm he’d given you in the shower you still felt that stretch as he pushed in, kissing across your jaw and sucking a bruise into the space just behind your ear.  

You would never tell Geena but somewhere between quick hook-ups and longer nights together your ‘just casual sex’ had turned into something else, something far more meaningful though neither of you would acknowledge it.  

Instead you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, Instead, you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, hips snapping against yours. The sound of your panting breath and his grunts filled the room; you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning when Topper’s fingers dipped passed your folds to massage your clit.  

“Oh god, Topper,” you whined, turning your face enough to press your cheek into Topper’s pillow, the faint smell of his cologne hitting your nose. You breathed in, always a fan of the subtle musk.  

“Does that feel good baby?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, words barely registering over the sensation of him. You opened your legs a little further, lifting your knee and hooking your leg over his back. The angle seemed to give more depth and his movements picked up speed. His fingers circled your clit faster as he continued to whisper words of encouragement to you. A quiet “come on baby, I know you’re close”.  

“Are you?”  

His comment had seemingly brought you just out of the haze enough to ask him if he was close. You knew you were, he knew you were, and you wanted him to be there too, just on that edge with you. As he pulled out you clenched around him and when he pushed back in it felt deeper than before, that all too familiar groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you guided him back into a kiss. He didn’t answer your question, instead taking the opportunity to kiss you, tongue working it’s way into your mouth and dragging across your teeth. You found your grip on his hair, tugging hard enough that he jerked his hips in retaliation, hitting so deep you felt yourself go off that edge, his motion become erratic as he followed, smoothing your scream with another kiss, biting your bottom lip as he pulled away.  

There was always a moment of frenzy in the beginning when you first started hooking up. You would rush to grab your clothes, partially because you felt the need to leave when the act was done and partially because you didn’t want him to linger too long on your body. You were a temporary fix for a problem he didn’t feel like dealing with on his own, he wasn’t responsible for making you feel good about yourself. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t obligated to tell you that you were beautiful or lavish any compliment onto you at all, not that your ex had ever been willing to either. You didn’t stay, for the first few weeks you trudged back across the lawn from the frat house, back to the dorms, and snuck in. But things had changed by mid October and what was once a booty call at one in the morning when he couldn’t sleep was now you going over for pizza and a study session that turned into an afternoon spent in his bed.  

“What time is Will back?” You asked, sitting up as Topper came back into the room with two water bottles. There was still that awkward moment just after sex, as if neither of you knew how to leave behind the intimacy of the act and return to normal life. Like you were both waiting for the other to admit that maybe just friends wasn’t really what you wanted at all. So he disappeared downstairs to get water and you pulled your underwear and his sweatshirt back on, leaving the bra somewhere on the floor.  

The empty other side of the room served as a poignant reminder that time alone was only ever temporary.  

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “he’s been talking about some girl on campus that he’s dating. Won’t reveal her name apparently, he’s convinced Fitz will try to fuck with them if he finds out.” His fraternity brothers were not the same as hanging out with Kelce and Rafe every day but they weren’t the worst substitutes for entertainment. Fitz was the head of the house, a senior whose greatest claim to fame was being party to a wildly controversial radio-show that amounted to nothing more than some white guys imitating Rush Limbaugh and the Douche from Parks & Rec. He said dumb shit just to piss people off and had an unappreciated proclivity for trying to ruin any relationship one of his brothers found themselves in.  

Will was always an easy target for him though he’d set his sights on you a few times, assuming like others did, that you and Topper were dating. You had never mentioned it to Topper, Fitz was gross and you were looking forward to his inevitable graduation at the end of May.  

“Fitz totally would,” you replied. Last year you existed on no one’s radar. You hadn’t so much as gotten an offer to go out on a date with someone and yet this year, all because of Topper, you were sure, it felt like everyone in his circle seemed to pay attention to you in some way. “He told me he prank called Will’s mom two weeks ago pretending to be the on campus nurse for a bit on his radio show.”  

Topper looked up from his phone and the pizza he was ordering, frown etched onto his features. “When did you talk to Fitz?”  

“His econ class is right down the hall from my 12:30 poly sci class…he always ‘walks with me across campus’ in case I get mugged apparently.” You laughed, “I think he just does it cause he knows we hang out.”  

“I didn’t know he was talking to you.”  

You shrugged, Fitz had been goading you for weeks but it wasn’t anything that felt harmful. Just some mind-numbingly dumb conversation about parties and girls and his radio show and how hot he apparently thought you were. “It’s not a big deal, if he was bothering me I probably would’ve said something.”  

“Right,” Topper still looked miffed despite having no reason to be. You weren’t interested in Fitz and, even if you were, what say did he have over it. That old familiar feeling crept in though, the one he recognised as the same one that the plagued him after Wheezie told him that Sarah had cheated on the boyfriend before him only to find out that she had cheated on him with John B. When he looked over you were pouting at him, “what?”

“Your room is so cold.” You replied, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands as if that was an indication of the frigid temperature. The old house lacked insulation in most of the rooms, Topper’s being one of them.  

He rolled his eyes, climbing back into bed with you, the momentary worry subsiding. You weren’t his girlfriend but in that moment, as he pulled the blankets around the two of you, guiding you back down to lay with him under the covers, he could have fooled even himself about the relationship. He held his arm out in front of both of you so that you could see his phone and the menu for the pizza place.  

“I’ve been really in the mood for pepperoni.” You mused, not bothering to look at the screen and opting instead to tuck your face into his bare collar. Your hand slipped down from his chest and Topper grabbed your wrist before you could make it to his briefs.  

“Pizza first,” he said, “you’re already getting sleepy.”  

“It’s cause I’m cold.” You insisted.  

He turned to place a kiss on your forehead, “pizza.” He reminded you again.  

-

Halloween weekend creeped up and, before you knew it, Phi Sig was decorated and advertising a Halloween haunted house party for everyone on campus. Geena was going home on the actual night of to trick or treat with her sister but she agreed to go to the party with you that weekend. She loved a good party and any excuse to dress up.  

When you weren’t spending time with Topper, and sometimes when you were because he had a tendency to hang out just to hang out (the friends side of the benefit), you and Geena marathoned episodes of Supernatural. And it was at  her coaxing that your Halloween costume became an homage to the show and your favorite character. A semi-loosely interpreted Dean Winchester, complete with a flannel over your black tank top and the mark of Cain crafted by Geena using her best fx makeup skills. You wore cut-off jean shorts with your hiking boots, showing off the legs that you were usually self-conscious about. Geena was Cas, sticking a little closer to the actual costume though she made a few alterations.  

“I gotta ask…” Fitz said, coming up to the two of you the moment you were in the door, as if he was the greeting committee.  

“I’m Dean Winchester.” You explained, “G’s Cas.”  

“You dressed like a guy for Halloween?” Fitz clarified. “I was hoping for something that showed a little more…” he made a motion with his hands to indicate that the little more he wanted to see were your boobs.  

“I have the obligatory sexy cat costume but that’s…” you looked passed Fitz’s shoulder, eyes landing on Topper down the hall chatting with some friends, a smile instantly lighting up your face, “that’s for his eyes only.”  

Fitz looked behind him, catching sight of his frat brother and rolling his eyes before turning back to you, “yeah well, if Thornton’s not appreciative then you know where to find me.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed, stepping around him. Geena had broken off already, heading for the keg that had been set up in the corner. When you started down the hall Fitz found someone else to antagonise, leaving you to vie for Topper’s attention, not that it took you much. Just walking up had him breaking his concentration to look at you, the smile automatic. “Hey,” you greeted as he hugged you, keeping his arm around your waist as he brought you into the conversation.  

“Hey, you look great.” He praised, offering you some of his beer. Topper’s costume was best described as JFK yachting in Hyannis. He looked like a preppy New England white boy and you suspected it was all clothing he already owned thrown together differently. There was always that slight air of prep to him though college and a growing collection of hoodies were slowly eating away at that.  

“Thanks, I feel a little out of place,” you joked, noting a girl down the hall that was wearing a mock up of Amanda Seyfried’s bunny costume from Mean Girls. “Though I do have a costume change saved for later.”  

“Oh yeah,” that smile was a full blown mischievous grin and you wondered for a split-second how down he would be to ditch the whole party and take you to his room. “Does it involve these clothes on my floor?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You teased.  

You had been stressing over the purchase of a costume that could’ve been more accurately described as lingerie since it arrived at your dorm a week earlier. Did friends with benefits buy lingerie sets specifically for showing off? You weren’t sure where that one fell on the line but you were positive you were crossing into territory that was reserved for girlfriends. But even with those doubts, just the thought of Topper seeing you in something that was just for him to see you in somehow made you unable to pass up the opportunity.  

Topper groaned, pulling you closer to him so that he could press his forehead into your neck, “baby,” his voice sounded almost close to whining and you ran a hand through his hair. He nipped at your exposed collar before lifting his head again to look at you. “How long am I supposed to wait?”  

“One track mind, I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again.” You laughed, trying not to think about the way this felt so much like a relationship, pulling away from him but taking his hand, “come on, I wanna get a drink.”  

He followed you to the makeshift bar set up by the keg, refilling his beer while you ladled a generous helping of jungle juice into your cup, trying to fish as many sour patch kids as you could to add to it. You were drinking mostly to calm the nerves that were bubbling up. Geena would be gone Halloween night and the whole next day because she didn’t have classes and you were thinking of inviting Topper to stay over. Regardless of the hour or the amount of time you spent together afterward, the post-coital bliss always came to an end and one of you always left the other. Even if you got breakfast the next day there was a stretch of time that existed between the night before and the morning after where you were nothing to each other but bodies.  

“So, Geena’s going home on Halloween, I thought maybe you could come over,” you suggested. That part was a given.  

Topper looked almost confused that you were asking, “yeah, figured we’d end up hanging out anyway.” He replied.  

“Well…” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, “I was thinking, she won’t be back til the next day…like, at night, and I thought, maybe you’d wanna stay over.”  

No. There was a voice in the back of his head, the logical one who knew that crossing the most obvious line, the one where he stayed and you woke up together, was a turning point that he wouldn’t be able to come back from. It was bad enough that he had let this become something that bordered on being a relationship to anyone looking in on it, but letting himself pretend like it was…he wasn’t sure he could come back from that when this all ended.  

“Yeah,” he said, quieting the logical side of his brain, “as long as you wear this ‘something else’ for the duration of my stay.” It might be a bad idea but who was he kidding, he was so far gone he’d accidentally referred to you as his girlfriend when he was on the phone with his mom just the day before.  

That smile returned to your face, the one that was so sly yet excitable at the same time, the perfect juxtaposition of innocence and deviousness, “Well, I was gonna wear nothing but-“  

“Nothing works for me.” Topper replied, using his free hand to hook his fingers through your front belt loop and pulling you toward him so that he could kiss you. Definitely not friends with benefits, but you’d both keep pretending until one of you cracked.  

-

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[neonacity]

Chapter 10: Clytemnestra

Summary:

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

An NCT mafia AU with OT23. Summary: Working for the mafia comes with many layers. There’s excitement, violence, loss, and betrayals. Yet there’s also friendship, family, loyalty, and code. The last thing it needs? Love and all the complexities it brings.

TW: violence, death, mentions of sex, drugs, and other illegal activities. If you’re uncomfortable with any of these, feel free to skip. Author’s note: This is purely a work of fiction. In no way am I supporting all the illegal activities and behaviors that might be mentioned in the story nor am I implying that any member of NCT acts whichever way I may write them here.

Chapter 9: In Memoriam

MASTERLIST

Fic Trailer

Chapter Music: I See Red by Everybody Loves an Outlaw

----

"What did he say?"

My eyes scanned over the words written over the piece of paper for the last time. There isn't much there, but I feel like there's something crucial I was missing. I looked up at Taeyong and shook my head. 

"Nothing much. But he wanted me to meet up with him."

"Did he give you an address?"

"No. Which makes it all the more strange. Unless he is planning to send another letter?" I handed him the piece of paper which he quickly unfolded to read. A slight frown settled between his brows as he went over it. 

There were only two lines there, none of which really makes sense. 

I will be waiting. 

22:00. Black Daisies. 

"Do you have any idea what Black Daisies mean?" 

I shook my head, mirroring the same look of confusion on his face. I've been racking my brains about it for the past few minutes but couldn't think of anything that might be related to it. 

"I honestly have no idea. He wrote a time beside it… so I am assuming whatever Black Daisies is, it's a code for a place? I don't have any idea which location he is referring to though." 

Taeyong simply looked at me silently before finally folding the paper away. We were back in my room after he temporarily managed to save me from the barrage of questions I was sure the others wanted to ask when they found out the letter was addressed for me. 

Every day I feel like the line I'm toeing gets more and more dangerous. Like a high strung tight rope that's ready to give up under my footing.

"You're not going to him." 

I looked up to meet his eyes. 

"I wasn't planning to..." 

Taeyong's gaze didn't waver.

"Promise me."

"Why?"

"Because I know you'll change your mind in a heartbeat once he involves anyone you care about. So I need you to promise, even if he uses me or any of our friends."

My lips pursed and I evaded his gaze. I heard a soft shuffling of feet and felt my mattress dip as he sat beside me. Taeyong didn't need to touch me to affect me with his presence. After that brief moment of vulnerability that we shared earlier, something has shifted. I thought I will be able to put my walls up again just as easily as I took them down, but it seems like I was wrong. 

When he spoke again, his voice was lower. Softer. 

"Promise me." 

"Is that an order from my leader?"

"No, it is a request from a friend." 

I turned to look at him and cocked my brow to diffuse the tension in the air. 

"You're ordering your noona around?" 

His lips quirked ever so slightly into a smile. 

"You're only one year older…"

"Hey. Emergency meeting."

"And seven months. One year and seven months. Don't forget that," I said, looking away.

A sharp knock on my door got our attention at that moment and we both looked up to see Doyoung standing on the threshold. He looked grim as he moved his gaze from Taeyong to me. 

-----

Jaehyun sat at the very back of the room that had filled up with all the members after Doyoung sent his urgent message. Everyone was scattered in the expansive space which seemed a little bit smaller now that WayV has joined, some sitting on the leather stools while others made do with the floor. Jungwoo and Taeil were deep in conversation beside him while Johnny and Yuta stood next to the door, flanking the entrance with their overwhelming presence. Being the main fighters of 127, it comes natural for the pair to be on the watch regardless if it's just an internal family meeting that's happening.

...Except this is not just an ordinary meeting. Jaehyun hasn't heard the full story from Doyoung yet after he came back from his business, but he has a pretty good idea of what the issue might be. Despite being just one of the crime families under the current Don's network, NCT does follow the traditional mafia ranking within its system. Doyoung works as the Consigliere to Taeyong's Capocrimine, taking over the responsibility of being the advisor and overall gatekeeper of NCT to the outside world. His connections give him access to normal society, which means if he calls for a meeting, it is probably an issue involving the "above ground." 

Taeyong walked in with an unreadable expression that made everyone fall silent in a heartbeat. He joined Doyoung in front of the room and looked over the crowd before finally speaking. 

"Has anyone here given any orders to their crew about stepping up any of our activities?"

The members exchanged confused looks between each other. Mark answered in lieu of Dream, Jeno looking just as confused beside him. 

"Not us. Why? What's up?"

Taeyong looked at Doyoung who grimly picked a folder on the table. The latter started reading the contents of it out loud into the room. 

"Heist in Dongjak district. The biggest bank there was ransacked last week. Cops also busted an illegal racing event last night. The other day, there was an ambush on one of the strip clubs at Guro. News came around that a new drug was being sold there after a rise of reported overdose deaths from it three days ago. Businesses that should be under our protection in Seocho are being ransacked despite them settling their tariff fees with us," Doyoung looked up from the paper he was reading and swept his gaze over the room. 

"That's just four of the 18 other cases that I got for the last week."

Everyone exchanged shocked looks with each other. Jeno decided to speak up, the expression on his eyes intense. 

"Hyung, it's not us. We haven't done any heists since you came back from Tokyo."

Doyoung gave a tight nod and looked over to Johnny and Yuta.

"The drugs in Guro?" 

"Not from us. The last ones we distributed are those we got from Japan and they're just psychedelic shots. They're clean." 

"WayV…?"

"We didn't bring any with us when we landed. Our jet can only fit the crates of armory we had to transport for you guys," Kun said with a frown. 

Taeyong ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. 

"Taeyong, what's happening?"

It was Doyoung who answered for him. 

"There was a rise of undocumented cases that were being fed to the cops in the past weeks. According to the reports, they were done by us." 

"What? That doesn't make any sense," Yuta said from his position by the door.

"It does make a lot of sense, actually. Obviously, we're hands off from all of these so they can only be done by the smaller gangs that we don't manage. And it all started after that announcement was made."

"But those rats wouldn't have any confidence to go against us. They're too small and disorganized to do this. And to even claim that they're NCT? That's just impossible."

"It is possible, if there is someone bigger asking them to act up," Taeyong answered grimly. Jaehyun watched as the man's gaze quickly flickered over to the pale female face sitting on the couch between Chenle and Renjun. That's when it clicked. 

Of course, Jihoon wouldn't be too lax to actually lie low after the bombing of Anarchy. That was just the start.

"Are you sure this isn't Wonho's doing?" Ten asked with concern. "We just got word from our network in Beijing that he was peddling women from kidnappings."

Jaehyun's attention snapped to the boy then at Doyoung and Taeyong at the mention of the name. A heavy feeling quickly started to gather on the pit of his stomach as he waited for their answer.

"That's an entirely different case altogether. But you’re right. The feds caught wind that he was trafficking kidnapped tourists and now they're after his ass." 

"Did he claim his case to be connected to us, too?"

"No. But because of all these other things happening, the police are definitely pinning everything on us."

"Shit," Lucas whispered loud enough for the good half of the room to hear. Jaehyun mirrored the same internally, his hands clasped together tightly in front of him. 

Shit indeed. 

This was all supposed to be a no brainer. He only needed to help the asshole get out of the country and then he can brush him off like dirt from his hands after. Why didn't he do it before things hit the fan? Now everything has become so much more complicated.

"How bad is it?" Taeil asked from Jaehyun's left. 

"Bad enough for us to be in the 8pm news. According to our moles, the Chief of Police is going to announce the manhunt for us tonight."

The room has gone so silent and still that the air felt suffocating. If there is one thing NCT is known for in the underworld, it is the group's efficiency and cleanliness when it comes to its operations. Every job done is spotless, every loophole covered. Until now. 

"Can't we pay off—" 

"We can't. We already tried reaching out to all our associates within the force but they can't do anything about it," Taeyong answered before Taeil could even finish the question. "The cases have reached the public and now there's an outcry from the community. Even the police are pressured to do something."

A round of murmurs swept over the room. Finally, one female voice broke through it to ask the question nobody wanted to say out loud. 

"What are we going to do?"

Taeyong's jaw tightened and he unclasped his arms crossed over his chest. 

"We need to track all those gangs doing these activities and put them in their place. It's going to be difficult to hunt each of them down with their size so we will need to use most of our resources here. Reach out to all the connections you could think of. We don't need more crimes being blamed on us."

Everyone's eyes were on Taeyong as the group waited for what he's going to say next. He stopped for a bit before finally speaking again. 

"And we kill Jihoon. This isn't going to stop until he's gone." 

Glances were exchanged within the room as his words sank in. Jaehyun didn't want to break the silence but he knew that he didn't have any other choice but to ask the next question. 

"And Wonho? What are we going to do with him?"

It was Doyoung who answered this time. 

"We'll kill him, too. We've given him way too many chances already. Once we get rid of him, we take the credit and let the cops know about it. Take them off our backs for a bit. We'll take care of him this week." 

It was fortunate that Jaehyun has mastered the art of keeping an unreadable facade. In his head, the words of the woman he loves echoed once again as the consequences of the situation mocked him. 

"No betrayal… or death of a brother shall be held against any of you." 

-----

Johnny threw his half finished cigarette on the gravelled road with a quick flick of his wrist. He scanned the length of the building from across the wall he is leaning on, gaze shadowed by the cap pulled low against his face. Of course, Jihoon would have the audacity and gall to choose a luxury apartment unit as his mistress' "hiding place" in Seoul. The motherfucker is one proud asshole, acting as if he owns any territory he steps on like the crazy psycho he is. 

He's not here for him though, no. Johnny isn't the type to act out on his own, but things are slowly starting to get messy within the family. People may always credit Taeyong for being the first one to step in the line of fire when it comes to protecting the group, but Johnny is a close second when it comes to his sense of loyalty. Ever since that day he was picked up and saved from that hell of underground brawls at 17 by Taeyong himself, he made it his personal promise to do anything to protect his home. 

That's exactly what he is doing now as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, waiting for his prey. If his informant was correct, she should go out of the building doors any minute now. 

30 seconds. 40. 56. 

His eyes caught a familiar form slipping out of the main entrance of the complex. The woman was wearing more casual clothes now than when they last met at Anarchy, but Johnny knew it was her despite her hoodie shielding the good half of her face. His sharp eyes followed her, allowing her to put some distance between them before he finally pushed himself from the wall to trace her steps.

She had crossed three streets when he really started catching up with her. He waited until the traffic light turned red on the street she was about to cross before slinging his arm around her casually. 

The woman stiffened instantly in his arms and looked up at him in shock. Johnny smiled casually down at her and pressed the cold nose of the gun hidden under his jacket closer to her ribcage.

"If you don't make a racket, there won't be a need for a murder scene by this road."

She pursed her lips as anger flashed in her eyes. She gave a tight nod before directing her gaze back into the street ahead.

"Good girl. Go straight then turn left. There's an abandoned building on the third alley." 

The two of them immediately started walking, sides pressed closely together. She didn't speak, but Johnny could feel her anger just bubbling underneath.

He unceremoniously pushed her inside the abandoned shop when they finally reached it. She turned to him with a glare and he didn't hesitate to raise his gun to her face, cocking it slowly. 

The move made her brows raise. Instead of looking threatened, she crossed her arms over her chest. 

"What do you want?"

"Your boyfriend's head on a stick. When are you two going to leave us alone? Your lot is causing a lot of trouble for us already."

"Are you here to kill me then?" 

"Oh no. You're here as payment. It'll be interesting to see how he reacts after we mess up one of his own." 

The woman stared at him for a long moment. Johnny’s gun didn’t waiver during the stare down, his hand steady as their gazes clashed. Then, all of a sudden, she did something he wasn’t expecting at all. 

She laughed.

She laughed so hard her voice rang and bounced on the dusty corners of the room. Johnny reigned in the confusion that overtook him with a frown. Is she acting to throw him off track?

The girl straightened up and looked at him with pure amusement in her eyes. The smirk playing on her lips told him that there is more to this act than what he is seeing. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. You stalked me thinking you’ll budge Jihoon by threatening me? That’s so, so, so amusing.” 

Johnny tightened his jaw but didn’t say a word. He watched as she started moving towards where he is standing, her eyes never leaving his. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she stalked him, and for the first time, he actually took a good long look at her eyes. What Johnny saw there hit him like a firetruck. 

Jihoon’s madness, exactly reflected in her own gaze.

She stopped an inch away from his gun. If she moved a little, the cold metal of it would have kissed her forehead. 

“You could kill me now or torture me to death and my brother wouldn’t bat an eye… In fact, he might even thank you,” she whispered softly, almost fondly. Johnny felt the hair at the back of his neck rise. His emotions must have briefly flashed on his face because her smile widened in amusement. 

“Here’s one thing you don’t understand about Jihoon. He absolutely doesn’t care about anyone else other than himself. All these things he is doing? They are all for his sick fun. He is mad. Inhuman. If you want to have any chance of winning this, you have no other choice but to play the game with him.” 

“You’re his sister.”

“Half sister. That doesn’t change anything. I’m just a piece on his chessboard. I would honestly let you kill me now if you want to, but I can’t. Not until I finish what I have to do.”

Johnny didn’t know what got to him but he found himself slowly lowering his gun. The two of them stared at each other, silent, for what felt like forever. Finally, she moved to walk past him. 

“If that’s all, then I’ll go ahead. I suggest you find a better informant next time. Jihoon doesn’t stay in my building at all. Even I don’t know where he is,” she said casually as she moved towards the door. 

“I have no other choice. But believe me when I say that I want him dead just as much as you do.” 

“If he doesn’t care about you, why are you sticking with him?” he asked just as she wrapped her hand on the door handle. She stilled, her shoulders stiff. Johnny is not an ace when it comes to psychological games but when she turned to look at him again, he knew for sure that her eyes were honest despite being devoid of emotions. 

That made him stop. Before he knew it, he was speaking again to ask the one question that he’s been trying to answer ever since they met at Anarchy.

“Why did you save me? Back in the club. I was standing directly above your bomb.” 

For a while, she didn’t answer. Johnny thought he saw a flicker of emotion pass through her eyes, but it was gone before he could process it. 

“I wonder why too.”

The door closed behind her, leaving him alone in the shadowed room. 

----

Chapter 11

Tag list: @hen-marks99, @negincho, @nctisthecity

[justatiredpotato]

Set Me Free | Chapter 1

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 6,000~  Total: 40,000~ (I’m sorry xD)

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: violence, discrimination (against hybrids), mentions of injuries and blood, anxiety, panic attacks

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: I love writing reader inserts but I just can’t write Y/N. It feels weird to me. So in this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji. I hope this isn’t too confusing for anyone! This is my first time posting my work so I appreciate any support it gets!

You raised the blinds just high enough to let a sliver of pre-dawn light in, but low enough that you wouldn’t be blinded when the sun crested the buildings across the way. You peered through the sheer fabric onto the square outside. The area had seen a lot of development in the last few years. Trendy little shops now lined the street. The coffee shop you owned and operated was tucked between a couple of over-priced restaurants with laughably tiny servings. 

While you weren’t thrilled with the increase in your overhead costs, you couldn’t deny the recent boost in business. There was a steady flow of customers through the whole week, not just in the early morning or on weekends. It had even become necessary to hire a couple of part-timers to keep the place open longer. Not that you minded. You were actually glad for the opportunity to give your friend, Jungkook, a job. 

The rabbit hybrid was nervous by nature despite his imposing appearance; he stood at least a foot taller than you. Your brother, Namjoon was fiercely protective of him. Jungkook came into your lives in your final year of college. The police brought a battered and terrified Jungkook to Remedy shelter, which was run by your friend Jin. They hadn’t seen what happened to him, and he wouldn’t say. As far as you knew, Namjoon and Jin were the only people he ever told.

Your eyes focused on the patio before you, as the very bunny you were thinking of appeared at the door. One of the boys came in on the weekends to work alongside you and help with the rush. The square was usually packed with couples on dates, window-shopping and listening to musicians that busked along the sidewalks.

“Morning, noona!” Jungkook chirped with his wide bunny grin.

“G’morning Koo,” you said, attempting to match his energy level despite the early hour. He laughed sweetly at the nickname. You were the only one he let call him that since he turned seventeen.

“Did you have your coffee yet?” He asked. You shook your head no. “Waiting for your favorite hybrid to make it for you?” 

“Don’t let Jimin hear you say that. You know he’ll take any opportunity to pout,” you said. 

Jungkook chuckled at that. Jimin was the shop's other part-timer. Many hybrids were affectionate, but the ragdoll hybrid took it to another level. He spent every possible second with his arms wrapped around his nearest friend. You were counted among his friends from pretty much your first meeting. When the chance to work at your shop had opened up, he thought it would be a great chance to have some independence. 

Jimin had been rooming with Jin for years. Despite his desire for independence he simply couldn’t stand living alone. So he shared an apartment with Jin and Taehyung, a sweet tiger hybrid. Taehyung had been hard to adopt out because despite his good nature, he was an exotic breed, and a predator no less. Few wanted to risk taking responsibility for him, and those that did had less-than-good intentions for him.

Life was scary as a hybrid. Between the massive industry of underground fighting rings, sex trafficking, and abuse in even seemingly decent homes, any adoption was a gamble. Jin tried his best to vet each family, but he couldn’t catch every red flag. You and Namjoon knew better than most how that haunted him.

Several years ago, the two of you stopped by the shelter. Neither of you could reach him on the phone and you were starting to get worried. You finally found him in his office, passed out over his desk with several empty bottles of soju scattered around. Namjoon tried to rouse him, but all he could mumble was ‘dead, dead, dead’ between hiccuping sobs. The next morning you learned that a hybrid he’d helped earlier that year was found dead in a seedy part of town. The couple that adopted her were being investigated on suspicion of hybrid trafficking. 

He wasn’t the same after that. He got back to his usual smiling self, but he was slower to trust, and slower to laugh. Every time a hybrid left the shelter for their new home there was a flicker of sadness and fear in his eyes.

“Noona? What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, breaking your train of thought. You turned to look at him, blinking to stop your eyes watering at the memory.

“It’s nothing Kookie, just thinking about this sad movie I watched last night.” You and Namjoon both agreed that it was best to keep the more tragic events from the shelter quiet. Jungkook had been through enough in the past, and you didn’t want to hurt him further by bringing up old memories. Jungkook frowned at the response.

“It must’ve been really sad,” he said, sniffing lightly. His frown deepened and he searched her eyes. He seemed to debate pressing it further. You knew that his hybrid senses were telling him you were lying. But he seemed to decide it was best to let it go, instead holding out a hot cup of your favorite coffee, a soft smile returning and making his eyes scrunch.

You took it, grateful for the coffee and his letting you evade the question. You set about your morning tasks, laying out chairs, brewing coffee for the self-serve station, and checking that there was creamer chilled and ready. Sunlight sparkled in the air, reflecting off the morning frost. 

It was supposed to snow that night. You shuddered. You hated winter for forcing you to pay for heating, if nothing else. Whenever your friends got together at your house—a tiny one-bedroom apartment above the cafe—Jimin whined about the cold temperature. But you refused to pay for anything beyond what would keep your pipes from freezing. It was expensive enough to own a building in your area already. Instead you wore layers and piled blankets on your bed. Jimin wasn’t really upset anyway, he loved any excuse to cuddle. Movie night usually ended with him and Taehyung asleep on either side of you.

“You actually going to turn on the radiator tonight?” Jungkook teased.

“I have my radiator on! It’s just… turned down,” you said.

He chuckled, knowing you were too stubborn to waste money on ‘luxuries.’ He turned away at the jingle of the door bell. The first customer of the day came as no surprise. A familiar, slouching form appeared, dropped a couple of equipment cases off at the side of the door, and shuffled up to the counter. The young man had black hair that hung down and nearly covered his eyes, which flicked up to meet hers. His lips twitched in a hint of a smile.

“Good morning, Yoongi” You said with more than your usual morning cheer. Jungkook scoffed and you threw him a dirty look. The young man in front of the counter didn’t seem to pay attention, his eyes determinedly focused on his beat-up boots.

“Morning,” he mumbled, glancing up to briefly meet your eyes.

“The usual?” you asked, trying to hold his gaze.

“Yeah,” he said. This time offering you a genuine smile before he looked away again. He busied himself looking through a well-worn notebook while you relayed his usual order to Jungkook: cheese toast and a small hot americano. You returned to the counter and accepted his punch card. He practically filled one every other week, since he was in nearly every day. 

“Performing in the square again today?” you asked. He was one of the buskers that was a regular in the area. He nodded. “You should put on a coat. It’s supposed to snow later. You’re going to freeze if you’re out there all day like that.”

You looked over his clothes. The hoodie he wore was ragged at the sleeves. He had the hood up, cinched a bit against the biting wind. His signature beanie was just peeking out from under it. He scuffed his feet, uncomfortable under your appraisal. 

“I’ll be fine,” he answered shortly. He looked up at you, eyes wide as he realized how curt he sounded. “I stay warm when I’m performing.”

You weren’t sure how standing behind a keyboard and laptop could keep you warm, but you didn’t press the issue. You handed back the punch card and gave him his total. He rummaged in his pockets before frowning and looking up at the menu.

“That’s wrong,” he said.

“Hm?” you asked, though you already knew what he meant. He pointed to the menu over your shoulder.

“Your prices went up, but this is what it always costs.” He pulled a jumble of crumpled bills and coins from the pocket of his hoodie, counting through them. A couple of coins fell and clattered across the counter.

“I gave you the regular customer discount,” you said. Jungkook chuckled as he joined you at the register with the completed order.

“That’s not a thing,” Yoongi said as he finished counting out his change and handed you the total with the new prices.

“It’s my shop. I’m making it a thing,” you argued, pushing the money back toward him.

“Please, Yeoji-ssi. I don’t need a hand out.”

“I didn’t mean that you need it, I just wanted to,” you finally stammered after an awkward pause. Now you were embarrassed, and you felt bad for unintentionally insulting him. Yoongi cursed quietly under his breath. Beside you Jungkook’s ears twitched, and he sniffed curiously; no doubt sensing something you couldn’t.

“I know, I’m sorry. That’s very generous of you,” he said as he gently pushed the money back toward you. Tucking his toast into the backpack and taking his coffee he hurried back toward the door. He fumbled for a minute, trying to carry his equipment and the hot beverage. As he finally got his things together and went to push the door open, you called after him.

“Hey, drop by if you get a chance to take a break and warm up.”

“I’ll try,” he said, turning around and flashing another soft smile as he pushed through the door.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You thought about Yoongi a lot through the rest of the day. Jungkook noticed and teased you all day. You couldn’t scold him for it though, you’d teased him plenty about his first crush.

As long as Yoongi had been coming to the cafe you’d been curious about him. He was quiet, handsome, and talented. You’d heard him perform in the square before. He played the keyboard but also produced tracks that he played from his laptop, blending the simplicity of the piano with a full-bodied studio sound.

You often wondered why he wasn’t working at a studio, producing for idols. He could have been an idol himself with the good looks he hid behind a beanie, hoodie, and bangs. The more you learned about the boy, the more you wanted to know. On your break, you googled his name and found a few YouTube videos of performances at clubs and underground rap battles. Apparently he wasn’t just a musician, he was a talented lyricist and rapper as well.

“Doing some research on your boyfriend, I see?” Jungkook said, resting his chin on your shoulder. You jumped, turning to swat at him as he quickly danced away.

“Don’t read over people’s shoulders! That’s rude,” you scolded. You could feel your face turning pink, and it irritated you to know that he could sense your embarrassment. “He’s not my boyfriend. And I was just curious about his music.”

“Mhm, right,” Jungkook said dismissively. “You’re seriously browsing Google? Come on, doesn’t this guy have an Instagram?”

“Not one that I can find.” Your tone made it clear that you had made a thorough search and failed.

“Wow, really? No social media presence at all? Maybe he has Twitter.” You shook your head. “Facebook? LinkedIn? MySpace? AOL?”

“AOL did IM and email, you dork,” you interrupted, cracking a smile. “And no, I can’t find him on any platform besides YouTube. He doesn’t seem to have his own channel…”

“Weird…” Jungkook said. “Are we sure this guy really exists?” You snorted. “I’m serious! For someone to be completely off the grid on the internet is like, unheard of. Maybe he’s hiding from the law! Or in witness protection. Noona, what if your boyfriend is a drug dealer!”

You swung at him again, this time successfully landing a smack on his shoulder. He ran back out front when the door chimed.

“He’s not a drug dealer, stupid!” You called after him. “And he’s not my boyfriend!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Namjoon picked up Jungkook after closing that evening. They were having a boys night at Jin’s house.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join, noona?” Jungkook asked, pouting a little bit to try and convince you.

“We really don’t mind, noona. Jimin and Tae would love it if you came,” Namjoon added.

“I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll be fine Joon. And Koo, you know Overwatch isn’t my style. You have fun with the boys. Make sure to let them win a few times,” you said, getting on your toes to ruffle Jungkook’s hair affectionately.

“I will,” Jungkook said, leaning into your hand for one last ear scratch.

You waved off the boys and set to cleaning up for the night. After mopping and turning out the lights in the front you went in the back to wash the dishes. Through the door leading out into the alley, you heard shouting. Listening for a minute, you shrugged it off. Probably just college kids from a local frat house. You often heard them as they stumbled home from the local bar. It was Friday night after all.

That explanation left your head quickly when you heard a scream. The sound nearly made you drop the mug you were washing. That wasn’t a scream of young men goofing around, it was a cry of pain and fear. Before you could think better of it you shook the water off your hands, grabbed your  phone, and raced for the door. 

You burst out into the alleyway struggling to stay upright on the thin layer of freshly fallen snow.

What you saw made your stomach turn. A group of four young men were crowded around the dumpster. Something, or more likely someone, was crumpled in the corner between it and the wall. You couldn’t see much, just rumpled fabric and a couple of bags laying around. The bags were opened, the paper and garments they had contained tossed around the alley. 

The men took turns throwing brutal kicks at the person in the corner, who was now curled so that the only thing you could see besides the snow-soaked hoodie was his hands clutching something to his chest. 

“You thought you could fool everyone? Thought you could scam a buck out of us?” One of the men sneered.

“Too bad. We know what you are. Just because no one wants you doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want,” another said

“You’re just a toy that someone threw away. What were you thinking trying to pull something over on real people?” another said, punctuating his point with a kick to the ribs that sent the victim sprawling onto the snow.

“Hey!” you shouted before you could think better of it. You hurriedly lifted your phone to dial the police. It was dead. Panic shot through you as the four guys turned to you. Thinking quickly you put the phone to your ear and started talking. 

“Hello? I need the police. I’m in the alley behind ***********. There are some young men here and I think they’ve hurt someone.” One of the men took a step toward you, further illuminating his face in the dim security light. You took a step back. “Hey, I have all of this on CCTV! Your faces are on it!” you warned before returning to the imaginary phone call. “Yes, the cameras run 24/7. Everything should be on there…”

The guy closest to you stepped back into the shadows, cursing.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to walk away and nodding for his friends to follow him. One of them turned to spit on the figure in the corner before walking away.

“You’re lucky, freak.”

You kept talking until the group disappeared around the corner. As soon as they were gone you rushed to the person in the alley. The person flinched away as you approached, tucking in on himself. You stopped, listening as he said something. It was muffled by his arms, which were held up in an attempt to protect his head. 

“What did you say?” you asked, moving a little closer.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…” he repeated over and over again. The man’s voice trembled to the point it was hard to understand him, but his voice was undeniably familiar. As you came within arms reach you got a clearer view, and your blood ran cold. There bundled in a thin, soaked hoodie, was Yoongi. The snow that had melted over him from his body heat was quickly refreezing. He shivered so badly you could hear his teeth chattering.

“Yoongi?” you asked in a choked whisper.

He looked up at you then. One of his eyes was blackened, almost entirely swollen shut, with a cut through his eyebrow dripping blood onto his eyelashes. His nose was bleeding, possibly broken. The split in his lip lined up with a quickly darkening bruise on his jaw.

“Oh my god, Yoongi! What happened?” you asked, reaching out for him.

“Please,” he said, more of a whimper than a word. You froze. He was scared you were going to hurt him.

“Yoongi?” you said, more softly this time. “It’s okay. They’re gone. I’m not going to hurt you. Would you please let me help you?” The panic in his eyes seemed to clear a little, and he seemed to really see you when he met your eyes again.

“Yeoji-ssi? I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” he mumbled, wincing as he tried to stand.

“Woah, hold on.” You reached out to steady him. He flinched at the sudden movement, but didn’t pull away this time. “You aren’t going anywhere. Come on, let's get you inside before you freeze.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’s really not worth the tro-“ he started.

“Yoongi,” you said in your older-sister voice. He seemed to realize that that was the end of the discussion, because he sagged against you as you slung his arm over your shoulders. His free hand was still clutching something to his chest. You glanced at it and your eyes widened. A tail. You looked up at him with a clearly shocked expression. He let out a kind of tired, resigned sigh.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Like I said, I can just go. You can leave me. You probably don’t want me here.”

“Why would you say that?” you said, immediately regretting your tone. He shrank into himself, curling his shoulders in to make himself smaller, even as he winced at the pain of moving.

“Sorry,” he repeated meekly, pulling his arm off as if he expected you to shove him away. You grabbed his hand and settled it back over your shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you, Yoongi. But why would you think I would leave you here?” you said. As you limped toward the door into the café he couldn’t meet your eyes. He’d embarrassed you, again. Of course you’d want to get rid of him. He hung his head and obediently followed you inside. His heart broke as he saw his bags, open and empty, strewn around the alley. His notes littered the floor, already soaked and probably illegible. He glanced around, seeing the edge of his keyboard where it had been shoved under the dumpster in the scuffle. Turning, he realized his backpack—containing his laptop, important papers and notes, and what little money he had saved—was still lying in the corner where you’d found him. 

He turned to you to say something, but found you were already at the door. As soon as the door closed behind him, what little strength he had left him. You eased him to the ground as best you could. He grunted, muffling a whimper of pain. He already felt pathetic enough.

“Okay, I’m going to call the police and an ambulance,” you said, tossing your dead cell phone on the counter and hurrying to the landline. Thank god you hadn’t hadn’t got around to cancelling it yet. Yoongi’s eyes widened and he lurched forward, trying to stand. He only made it one step before he fell, yelping in pain and landing on his hands and knees on the tile. You rushed back to his side.

“Don’t,” he begged through gritted teeth. You stopped short, thinking he didn’t want you to touch him. “No cops. No ambulance,” he got out before lowering himself to lay on his side. You quickly moved to lay his head on your lap instead of the cold floor.

“Yoongi you’re hurt. And those boys should be arrested! Besides, I’m sure someone is worried about you. Don’t you have a…” you trailed off, looking for the right word.

“Owner?” Yoongi said, disgust clear in his voice.

“I was going to say guardian. That’s what most of my friends call their arrangement.” 

“You have hybrid friends? Or your friends own hybrids?” Yoongi asked.

“I guess both, not that my hybrid friends are anyone’s property-“ you cut yourself off. “Yoongi this isn’t important right now. You need help.”

“No. The hospital will call the police, and the police will put me in a shelter.”

“You’re alone?” you asked cautiously.

“Yeah. I’m better his way. If I can just sleep here, I’ll be gone in the morning. Please,” he said. His voice kept getting quieter, losing its bite the more he spoke.

“No,” you said firmly.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t want me here. I’ll be gone before you wake up. I won’t touch anything. You can just forget all of this.”

“No, Yoongi. I meant I’m not letting you leave like this. I’m getting you help and you’re going to let me.”

You took off your sweater and put it under his head so you could stand and get the phone. Yoongi moved to protest, but you threw him a look and he surrendered. You dialed and watched as Yoongi’s eyes fell closed despite his best attempts to fight it.

“Noona? What’s up?” came the answer on the phone.

“Hoseok, I need your help,” you said, not wasting any time. You could hear the sound of video games and trash talk pause in the background as the other boys asked Hoseok what you called for.

“Shut up a sec and let me ask,” he said to the younger boys who were no doubt hovering around the phone trying to eavesdrop. “Sorry, noona. What do you need? It’s late. Is everything okay?”

“I need a doctor.”

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately, his voice more urgent now. You could hear a whine on the other end already, probably Jungkook, already worried.

“I’m fine, Hobi, but could you take this conversation somewhere more private?” you asked, not wanting to expose the younger boys to any unnecessary trauma. There was shuffling and complaints on the other end of the line, then the sound of a door closing.

“Talk. What’s going on?” Hoseok demanded. The door opened and closed again and you heard Namjoon’s voice.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” he asked. “Are you okay?” He repeated more clearly, evidently sharing the phone with Hoseok.

“Yes, I’m fine! But I have an injured hybrid here. He doesn’t have a guardian and he’s too scared to let me call an ambulance.”

“What happened to him?” Hoseok asked. He was a doctor specializing in hybrid medicine at the nearby hospital. He often helped out at Jin’s shelter. You felt some relief as you sensed he was in what Taehyung liked to call ‘doctor mode.’

“Some kids beat him up. It’s bad. He’s passed out on my kitchen floor right now. Drenched from the snow too. I can’t carry him into my apartment myself and it’s way too cold in this kitchen.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll have to grab some supplies from the shelter.” 

You heard the door opening again, and a bunch of voices throwing questions at Hoseok and Joon.

“Jin-hyung, shelter keys?” Hoseok requested over the noise.

“I’m going too,” Namjoon chimed in. There was more arguing and shuffling noises as coats were grabbed and shoes were put on and everyone insisted they were coming. You were distracted by a soft murmur from Yoongi, still on the floor behind you. You stretched the phone cord and returned to his side.

“What is it, Yoongi?” you asked, pulling the beanie off to brush some of his fringe off his face. His soft black ears were flattened against his head, and you gently smoothed over them too.

“My bag,” he mumbled, eyebrows creasing even in unconsciousness.

You interrupted the arguing boys on the other end of the phone.

“Bring the boys,” you said.

“Are you sure about that?” Namjoon asked, knowing that you, Jin, and himself all agreed it was best to protect the three maknaes from this kind of situation when it was possible. 

“They can��t come in and see him, but I have a job I need them to help me with. Make sure they dress warm,” you said.

“If you’re sure,” Namjoon said, deciding not to question you. 

“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Hoseok said. “Do your best to keep him warm until then.”

“Okay. Please hurry.”

As soon as you hung up, you quickly ran into your apartment in the back. You pulled as many extra blankets as you could carry out of your closet and rushed back to Yoongi. You debated for a minute before pulling off the drenched hoodie, only to find that the black t-shirt he wore underneath was no drier. You weren't confident that you could get the garment off without further hurting him, so instead you piled blankets on top of him. You filled a couple of hot water bottles and tucked them around him; then filled a couple more and tucked them into your bed so that it would be warm when the boys carried him in.

You returned to the kitchen, where Yoongi was barely visible for all the blankets he was packed in. Glancing at the clock, you saw that only 10 minutes had passed. It felt like you’d been waiting for hours. The time crawled as you alternated between watching the seconds tick by and watching Yoongi’s chest rise and fall.

You jumped when the knock finally came at the door. They’d come to the back, the front door to your apartment, and you ran to let them in. Hoseok immediately slipped past you and headed to the kitchen. The others moved to follow, but you stopped them.

“I need you guys to help me with something,” you said. “Those thugs trashed his stuff threw it all over the alley. Joon, can you take the boys and go gather what you can and see if any of it can be salvaged? I know he said his bag is back there. It seemed important to him.”

Namjoon nodded and quickly herded the boys around the building and into the alley. You pulled Jin inside.

“I need you to help Hobi and I get him inside.”

“That bad?” he asked, frowning. You just nodded. He followed you back to where Hoseok was already taking stock of his patient.

“You did good, noona. Seems like you staved off the shock. Move him, and then I’ll dress these wounds.”

You carefully pulled the blankets away.

“Be careful, he was really protective of his tail. I think it’s injured somehow,” you warned before Jin and Hoseok picked him up. They exchanged a glance as they moved toward the apartment door.

“What?” you asked. “Is something else wrong?”

“No,” Jin tried to assure you, though his tone wasn’t comforting. “It’s just… Hobi, I know he isn’t a big guy, but is it normal to be this light?”

“No,” Hoseok answered grimly. “Definitely not.”

Now that your attention was drawn to it, you noticed how slight Yoongi was. His ribs were clearly visible through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. You felt a lump in your throat and looked away, hurrying to open the door.

“You can put him in my room. I put some water bottles to warm the bed.” They nodded and quickly settled him on the bed.

“Do you think we could cut away this stuff?” Hoseok asked, gesturing to his clothes. “It’s all trashed anyway.”

“I don’t know if he has much else…” you said, hesitant to ruin his things.

“I just don’t want to risk further injury trying to get them off intact. And we can’t leave him in these, he’s already nearly hypothermic,” he said.

“We can replace them,” Jin suggested. “I brought a change of clothes. It’s in a bag on your coffee table, noona.”

“Right, great,” you said. “I’ll go get them.”

You hurried out of the room to get the bag Jin mentioned. When you came into the living room you found Jimin, hovering by the door.

“Noona, there was a keyboard by the trash and papers everywhere. Are they his? Should we get them too?” he asked, shifting from foot to foot. His nose twitched, and you realized he could probably smell the anxiety and pain in the air. You sighed.

“Yeah, grab everything you can. We can sort through it in the morning, and see what we can save.” He nodded and turned to leave.

“Chim,” you called and he turned. You wrapped him in a comforting hug. “Thank you.”

A purr echoed in the boy’s chest, even as you heard him sniffle. You knew this whole experience was hard for him. He was one of the volunteers at the shelter the day Jungkook was brought in. That experience still haunted him. It’s why he stopped working at the shelter and took a job at the coffee shop. His tail curled around your waist as he hugged you back tightly.

“He’ll be okay, Chim,” you said, stroking his hair. “We’re going to help him.”

A pained groan came from the room behind you, and you pulled away from Jimin.

“Go back out and help the boys. Once you’re done, leave the stuff in the living room and go to the cafe. Tell Jungkook I said everyone needs a hot chocolate,” you petted his hair one last time and guided him out the door. A shout echoed out of your bedroom, and you couldn’t tell if it sounded pained, angry, or scared. Snatching the bag off the coffee table, you dashed back into the room.

“Get off me!” Yoongi shouted, tail clutched to his now bare chest. Jin stood back, hands up in surrender as Hoseok tried to calm the panicked cat. 

“Look man, your clothes are soaked. We’re risking hypothermia if we don’t get you into something dry.”

Yoongi looked down, seeing what remained of his ratty t-shirt cut open and in the trash. The right leg of his jeans was sliced along the outer seam up to his mid-thigh.

“What the hell did you do to my clothes?” He shouted again. He winced and swayed from the strain of sitting upright.

“Yoongi,” you started softly. Yoongi turned to you, eyes wide with panic. You approached slowly, not stopping when he spat at you to leave him alone, hurling threats and nonsense at you. As you sat on the edge of the bed he shrank back into the bedding around him and refused to meet your eyes.

“Please,” he said, his voice so quiet you hardly heard him. “Please just leave me alone. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Yoongi,” you said again, “I want to help. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” You reached out to gently take his hands. “I swear, I’m going to protect you. Please let me. These are my friends, and they’re trying to help.”

He drew a shallow breath, wincing at the pain in his ribs and nodded. You stood and moved to leave, trying to spare him some privacy.

“Wait!” he said, stopping you. “Please don’t leave me.”

You turned back to him and took in his face, still chapped from the winter wind. You couldn’t leave him. So you stood with your back turned, awkwardly rocking on the balls of your feet as Jin and Hoseok helped him change.

“That’s much better,” Hoseok said, evidently satisfied that his patient was no longer at risk for hypothermia. You turned to find Yoongi with his ribs already wrapped and Hoseok working on dressing the wounds on his brow and lip. The flannel pajama bottoms Jin had brought were much too big for him, you might’ve giggled at how cute he looked if the situation were different. Without the dark hoodie and ripped jeans, Yoongi was undeniably adorable.

“I brought my clothes since I wasn’t sure what size would fit. I guess we should’ve borrowed Jimin’s instead,” Jin said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said, bowing his head in thanks.

“It’s no problem. I’ll bring by something that’ll fit you better tomorrow.”

Yoongi glanced from you to Jin to Hoseok, then back to his hands in his lap. He focused on Hoseok’s hands, which were now busy setting the break in his tail.

“Don’t worry about it, I probably have something in my bag I can wear…” He trailed off, remembering the state his belongings were in the last time he saw them. “I’ll go clean up my stuff as soon as it’s light tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of the way before you know it.”

“Yoongi,” you said, trying her best not to sound frustrated. Yoongi’s ears flattened and you knew you hadn’t succeeded.

“I’m sorry. I can leave now if you want,” he said, tail curling back around him as soon as Hoseok released it.

Your heart, already cracked from all the events of the night so far, finally broke completely. Hoseok stepped aside to make room as you came to sit beside Yoongi again. He was shaking, and you realized that he was terrified. He genuinely believed that you wanted him gone; that you’d throw him out in the snow right then and there.

“Don’t leave,” you said, your own voice trembling now. You reached out and lifted his chin so he’d meet your eyes. He did, and you found they were shining with tears of pain and fear that he was desperately trying to hold back. “Please don’t leave. I want you to stay.”

His shaking hand came up to rest over yours, which still cupped his cheek. He leaned in to the first gentle touch he’d felt in years, and the tears finally fell. You pulled him into your arms, and he let you. He buried his face in your neck and cried as you pulled a blanket over his shoulders. 

Eventually the sobs quieted. His breaths came in little gasps now, as he tried to catch his breath despite the pain in his ribs. You leaned away after a while to look at his face and saw he’d fallen asleep. 

You looked back to find that Jin had gone to check on the boys. Hoseok sat quietly at the end of the bed, not wanting to interrupt. He gave you an approving smile, and you thought his eyes were a bit wet too. It took you a moment to notice Namjoon standing in the doorway. Hoseok helped you ease Yoongi down to lie comfortably, and you carefully disengaged herself from his arms. The two of you exited the room as quietly as you could.

“You were great with him, noona,” Hoseok praised. Namjoon beamed with pride before pulling you into a tight hug.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, planting a kiss on top of your head.

“Thank you, Joonie.” Your voice broke and you finally felt all of the emotions hit you. Your shoulders shook and you struggled to stay quiet as you sobbed into Namjoon’s sweater.

A/N: So so so much thanks to my beta reader @sunshineboysbts​ for helping me create and edit this whole fic! She’s been listening to my ramblings for actual months while I worked on this. Love you, girl!

[texanredrose]

Okay, to put some limitations on this, I’m only including the WIPs that I’ve done more than a synopsis for... that I can remember... that’s on Google Drive... that I actually think I might post one day... but haven’t posted yet because my posted WIPs are fairly easy to identify... okay... I got tagged by @unsteadyshade and I’m tagging @faunusrights and @alexlayer69

1) Across Time - Inuyasha AU where Weiss gets thrown back in time to the ancient past, where she meets two demons (Yang and Blake) warring against each other over a misunderstanding.

2) Alpha’s Devotion - Omega’s Strength, but from Winter’s POV.

3) Bears, Oh My - An exhausted Winter, lost on a hike, comes across a cabin where Yang lives with her three pet bears.

4) Brave New World - Continuation of the Dishonored AU where Ruby and Winter reflect on the new Mantle.

5) Bruised - Third installment to the ace!Yang AU. 

6) Coming Home - Based on Dash’s Tiny Knight AU, Princess Blake is betrayed and stranded far from home and must rely on a reticent knight named Weiss to return to her kingdom.

7) Complications Always Arise - Papa Schnee is demanding Weiss marry before he’ll allow her to take his place as head of the SDC, so Yang volunteers to pretend to be Weiss’ beloved. No one else knows the relationship is fake, least of all Blake and Winter, and it’s just a bunch of pain.

8) Divided - Continuation of the By Moonlight AU where Whitley returns to the castle and Winter’s not upset by that- and Winter’s upset by the fact she’s not upset and has to figure out why her inner wolf is cool with this when she should, by all rights, be furious.

9) Dragonsbane - Mage Knight Winter hears tale of a dragon in the countryside that the local villages wish to see vanquished. Winter, however, has other plans.

10) Eye of the Beholder - Blinded and near death after a battle, Winter is rescued by the mysterious Yang and is nursed back to health despite her protests otherwise. (It’s a Medusa!AU.)

11) Fabled - Fable 3 AU where Princess Ruby and Princess Yang are forced to confront the fact that Queen Raven has lost her fucking mind, only to discover that fear drove the woman insane- a fear they must confront themselves.

12) Fields of Love - Farmer Yang offers a job and housing to apparent single mother Winter and her young daughter Penny. What starts as a kind gesture grows into something so much more.

13) Full Circle - Van Helsing (2004) AU, Winter and Weiss, amnesiacs employed by the church to handle all manner of unholy problems, are sent to discover what happened to King Taiyang. Along the way, they become wrapped up in a centuries spanning prophecy and a bloodline hanging in the balance.

14) High Bar, Low Blow - Yang owns a bar where the gimmick is that everyone’s an out of work actor and the staff is staging an ongoing drama on par with a soap opera to keep their customers coming back. Winter joins the staff and then things get a bit real.

15) Hoodlums and Hijinks - Robin Hood AU where Princess Winter and Princess Weiss are just as in favor for overthrowing the king as the group of bandits run by Ruby, Yang, and Blake. 

16) Last One 2: Electric Boogaloo (title subject to change) - a sequel to Last One where the haunt continues.

17) Lexical Access - Sequel to Tip of the Tongue, where Yang gives her girlfriend a bit of roleplaying payback.

18) Little Red - Carmen Sandiego AU where Ruby was kidnapped adopted by a group of thieves and raised to become the world’s greatest thief, but a chance meeting with Penny via a stolen phone opens her eyes to the wider world, and she meets the rebellious heiress Weiss, street smart Blake, and brawler Yang, creating a team that works to foil Ruby’s former friends while eluding capture by mysterious operatives with a somewhat familiar white color scheme...

19) Long Term Investment - Yang, a fae who lives in the woods, makes a deal with Princess Winter to save the Queen. The price? Winter’s firstborn. Winter misunderstands how she’s expected to get pregnant and Yang’s never actually intended to collect. Next thing Yang knows, Winter’s moving into the clearing beside her tree home.

20) Miscalculation - Another Omegaverse AU where Weiss is an omega and Blake and Yang are alphas, except Weiss lied and said she was an alpha when enrolling in Beacon and now she’s locked in a room with Blake and Yang on the verge of starting her heat. Sharing is caring.

21) More Than Words Can Say - Winter, rendered mute by a military accident early in her career, is honestly the best girlfriend Yang’s ever had. However, tonight’s the night they’ve decided to get intimate, and that includes showing some scars that they don’t show often. It’s less about sex and more about trust and intimacy.

22) Music of the Night - Phantom of the Opera AU where the mysterious, disfigured shade of the opera house, Weiss, finds herself at odds with the rich, jovial Yang in a competition for Blake’s heart. Then there’s Adam being a dick, too, and the opera house has never seen so much drama.

23) My Heart Will Go On - It’s the Titanic, but double the rich, unwilling-to-marry ladies and triple the won-a-ticket-to-a-ship ruffians. Penny’s there too; she, like Ruby, just really likes ships.

24) One Fucking Favor - Winter’s due for a long assignment and wants to make a sex tape for stress relief purposes. Yang doesn’t ask questions; she’s just the one with the camera. But then, Winter’s partner for the vid doesn’t show up. What’s Yang going to do about it?

25) Prophecy - Star Wars AU where Ruby, Yang, and Blake are trained as Jedi, Winter and Weiss are part of the clone army, and Ruby’s the chosen one. That’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, but Senator Salem is there to lend a helping hand...

26) Propositioned - Faunus experience bouts of heat; sometimes, they can safely ignore it and go about their lives, but every now and again, they really can’t. Concerned for Blake’s health as she’s skipped too many heats to be healthy, Yang sets up a partner for Blake’s heat. Blake’s not a fan but she does like the idea of banging Weiss Schnee.

27) Proven - ARK: Survival Evolved AU where Winter, after being ‘won’ by Yang, is taken into the bowels of the earth to learn how the underground tribes who inhabit the area survive in such an unforgiving environment. As she acclimates to the tribe’s ways, she finds herself carving out her own path, culminating in facing off against the Queen and proving herself worthy.

28) Reaping What You Sow - When Winter escaped to the countryside with Penny to start a farm, she knew she had her work cut out for her. In need of help and facing a harsh cold season, she hires Yang, a one armed drifter, to help her. The two end up needing the other more than they could’ve imagined.

29) Tear My Heart Open - Blake thought she understood how the world worked. As a member of the White Fang Gang, all she needed to do was keep everyone motivated to continue their ongoing street war against the police and authorities bent on keeping them down. But while running from the cops, she’s offered sanctuary in the home of one Weiss Schnee and her girlfriend, Yang. From there, her perception of the world is completely upended.

30) The Duel - After her father offered her hand in marriage to the winner of a tournament, Winter opted to assume a disguise and fight for the prize herself. In the final match, she faces Yang Xiao Long, a competitor she’s come to know quite well, and she finds her conviction to win wavering slightly. Is it enough to lose her the fight?

31) The Lies We Tell Ourselves - Weiss has made it; she’s opened her tattoo shop in Vale, well away from her father, and aside from a bad first impression with the florists across the parking lot, everything’s looking up for her- until her father finds her. Luckily, Blake’s been through some shit and doesn’t mind helping Weiss drive daddy dearest up the wall, even if it means letting her own parents think she’s dating Weiss. It’s not like either of them is going to catch feelings... unless...

32) The Princess’ Bride - After losing her fiancée to the dreaded White Fang Pirates, Yang vows to take to the sea herself and exact her revenge. Princess Weiss finds herself falling madly in love with Yang, who still loves Blake, and all this is thrown into even more chaos when Yang gets kidnapped and Blake comes back from the dead! 

33) Two for One - Yes, another Omegaverse AU. Five years after the fall of Beacon, Yang and Blake cross paths, each believing the other has spent the time keeping their mutual mate, Weiss, safe. When they realize Weiss is with neither of them, old wounds are torn open, but before they can resolve their dispute, Winter captures the both of them and hauls them to a remote part of Atlas where an SDC facility has been turned into a fortress. There, they find a mortally wounded Weiss clinging to life and raising twins daughters; she gives her mates until her death to endear themselves to their children, else the twins might opt to stay with Winter and be kept from Blake and Yang for good. Between learning about their kids, Blake and Yang navigate their complicated feelings and try to reconnect with Weiss, all while a sinister force gathers to destroy the fortress and steal the prize within.

34) Weaknesses - Loosely set in the Glamour AU, Yang is being forced to assume her mother’s position as leader of their vampire coven. Her fellow vamps disapprove of Yang’s werewolf girlfriend. Winter, of course, doesn’t care.

I got lazy and cut a bunch out. No, fuck you, I don’t have too many AUs, I will add more if I want. Also, some of these, the first chapter is posted on my Patreon. Don’t ask me which ones; I genuinely have no idea. I’m bad at this, y’all.

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Pt 29 - Devil

“Do you want to-“

“Fuck no,” she snaps, “fuck, please don’t stop. Don’t even think about stopping. I want this. I want you. I want you to fuck my ass.”

You reach up with your right hand, past her hips and her right breast, to her chin, turning it slightly until you are able to kiss her. You spend several long moments there, your lips and tongues playing with each other.

“Now keep going,” she says as she breaks the kiss, “fill me. Fill my ass. Fill me, and fuck me.”

You aren’t one to refuse such an order, and so you press forward - all the while, your eyes are glued to hers as she looks over her shoulder at you, your hand still grasping her by the chin, those eyes glazed with pleasure and lust and just a hint of pain and discomfort. You have never seen her like this - so much in need. You’d seen her face when she is filled with your cock for the first time, seen it during sex, when she is moaning and sighing and gasping, seen it twisted in pleasure when she cums - but never like this. Never twisted in a heady mix of pain and pleasure and pure, unfiltered lust.

It takes minutes or hours or days later, you weren’t sure - but soon you are fully inside her, buried to the hilt inside Minatozaki Sana’s ass.

It is at that moment that you both hear the bathroom door open, and two women walk inside.

Sana’s eyes go wide with surprise.

---

The older you got, the more you wanted to just be at home. You would've given anything to be at home. Or anywhere, really, other than where you currently were.

And it wasn't because you hated the place - Seoul had a newly flourishing craft beer scene, as it turned out, and this particular bar was one of the more popular ones.

And it certainly wasn't because you hated the people. Most of your company, after all, comprised mainly of beautiful young women, most of whom you'd had more than a couple intimate experiences with. Even the few guys that were there were dudes you got along with - in your limited interactions with them, anyway. There was worse company to be had. 

No, it was mostly because you wanted, needed some time alone, away from everyone else. Tomorrow was going to be a pretty big day, and you figured you should be at home, resting, preparing yourself for what was to come… or maybe playing some Modern Warfare. Either or.

Tomorrow was the chosen date for the SM operation - the day that Nayeon had decided she would infiltrate SM's headquarters office, using the entrance she had procured from her interrogation of Jay, in an attempt to find the evidence she needed to incriminate SM.

You all should have been at home. You wanted to be at home.

And by "home,” you really meant your hotel room - you were, after all, in Korea, thousands of kilometers from your actual home. You'd spent way too much time in hotel rooms over the past year, and truth be told you'd almost forgotten what "home" really meant. That apartment back in your home city, sitting empty for so long now, seemed like a distant memory. To go back there now would be like going to a foreign place. "Home" was whatever hotel room you were currently staying in. Your possessions were limited to what you could pack in that duffel bag and luggage carrier that had become your constant companions.

You wanted to be back in your hotel room, but you found yourself here in downtown Seoul, mostly against your wishes. Sana had insisted that everyone go out one last time before the big day tomorrow, mostly in an effort to get everyone to relax and cool off. And so when the clock hit 5 she dragged everyone, some of you physically, out of the office and into this bar.

You swirl your half-empty glass of pale ale in your hand as you watch Dahyun and Jeongyeon play darts across the room. It wasn't an ordinary cork dartboard - like many things in the technologically advanced South Korean capital, it had been enhanced with the latest technology to look more like an abstract science-fiction version of the traditional bar game. 

Dahyun is hopeless at the game as she was with drink orders, it turns out, and two of the three darts she tosses towards the circular target miss altogether. She cringes in embarrassment as the two wayward darts strike the plastic facing of the machine instead. Jeongyeon chides her playfully for her misses before she takes her turn, and true to form, she makes two high point hits, the third just barely missing her target. The girl had a knack for physical games as well as digital ones, it seemed.

As she collects the darts from the board she turns and catches your eyes. You raise your glass slightly in toast to her ability, and she blushes lightly, brushing away her newly short hair with a shy smile before stepping behind Dahyun as the shorter girl takes her turn.

"You should go out with her already," comes a voice to your left, "you clearly have feelings for each other."

You turn to find Sana has taken the seat next to you, placing her glass of beer on the table as she does so. Alcohol has given her cheeks a soft pink blush to go with her newly dyed pink hair. She looked stunning, as always, and it wasn't hard to notice that she had already captured the full attention of every other male - and some females - in the building.

"Jeongyeon and I are just friends," you state - it was becoming a bit of a routine, at this point, explaining your relationship with the IT specialist to everyone around you. Was it that obvious, the way Jeongyeon felt about you?

"Sure, you think you're just friends. But what does she think?"

You take a moment to ponder Sana's question. Jeongyeon had made her feelings for you clear, and you knew that all it would take was a simple conversation, a simple act of admitting you felt the same way, and bam - you'd have a new girlfriend.

And it wasn't like you didn't have feelings for Jeongyeon, either - she was smart, and beautiful (sometimes breathtakingly so, when she wanted to be), and a genuinely good person, fiercely loyal and protective to her friends and those she held dear. But beyond all that, and perhaps most importantly, being around her made you feel comfortable and cared for in a way that none of the other girls did. She made you feel special.

In another time, in different circumstances, you would have already been with her. But it just didn't feel right at the moment, not now, and not so soon after your breakup with Momo.

"Now's not the right time," you finally answer, swirling your beer around in its glass for the umpteenth time, "we have too much going on to think about starting a relationship."

Sana doesn't seem to believe you, and she lets out a smirk and a "mmmhmmm" as she takes a sip of her own drink.

"What about you?" you ask, eager to change the subject away from Jeongyeon, "what happened to you jumping on me the second I was single, the way you said you would when we were in Hawaii?"

Sana takes a moment to compose her answer, a sly smile appearing on her lips the way it always did when she was formulating some plan in her head. She always seemed to be planning and plotting, always seemed to be thinking the game a few moves ahead of the rest of you. You had experienced first hand what her plotting and scheming could bring, and while your suspicion of her had eased somewhat in recent weeks, you never really could shake the thought that Minatozaki Sana had a little bit of a snake in her.

"I still plan to," she admits, "but I'm going to take my time for the same reason you and Jeongyeon aren't already together. It's too soon. I'm not a monster."

She takes a sip of her beer as she gives you another one of those sly smiles - venom laced with honey.

You smirk at the Japanese girl. She leans forward on the table, bringing her arms together, ostensibly to cup her glass shyly with both hands - but it also had the added side effect of emphasizing the low cut of the sparkly top she wore and the tantalizing cleavage it produced. She wasn't the most endowed amongst your little group, but she certainly knew how to use what she had. You didn't doubt for a moment that everything she did and said was for a purpose.

You knew how this night would end. You’d spent enough time around this group of girls to know where it was leading. You knew what was about to happen, and while the angel on your shoulder kept trying to convince you to call it an early night, the pink haired, Sana-shaped devil on your opposite shoulder was whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and telling you it was okay to indulge in the pleasure that was surely coming.

"I remember you said something in Hawaii... what was it?" she begins, tapping her lip with a finger playfully, "Oh, that's right. You told me there was somewhere else you could put it. Too bad we never got around to it."

"That's too bad," you answer, happy to play her game.

"Mmhmm, too bad. I suppose we could have, but with Mina and Choa leaving, I didn't think it was the right time. I'm not a monster," she repeats.

"Oh yeah? Then what are you, Sana?"

"I'm an angel," she says with the confident tone of a woman who believed it, "Most of the time. Other times, I'm a devil."

"And what are you tonight?"

Sana smiles, one of those slick, sly, devilish smiles of hers - the smile of a hunter that has come upon an animal helpless in her trap. She looks up at you, gives you a playful, cute shrug, and quickly downs the rest of her glass.

Slamming the empty vessel down on the table, she rises and saunters towards the bathrooms, slowly, every little step highlighted with an exaggerated sway of those perfect hips, knowing you - and indeed every other male in the room - was watching.

When she reaches the small hallway that leads to the bathrooms, and just before she disappears into it, she turns halfway to where you are still sitting before biting her lip and giving you a smile that was all devil, and very little angel. 

—-

Every step of the way from your table to the bathrooms, you knew the eyes of every single male - and perhaps some females - were on you. Each pair of eyes glaring with jealousy, envy, perhaps a little lust, as you follow the gorgeous young Japanese girl into the women’s bathroom.

What they would have given to be in your position now - standing in one of the stalls, with that same girl on her knees in front of you, her wavy, pink hair bobbing up and down as she took your shaft in and out of her mouth, her tongue pressed hard against its underside, lathering it with slick saliva as it pumped in and out between her lips.

Sana had wasted no time - she rarely did. A few moments of hurried, frenzied kisses, tongues duelling with impatient knowledge that it was all just an appetizer for what was to come. Her fingers worked with practiced ease at your belt, and within moments she had drawn your pants and boxers down to your knees, the newfound freedom of your shaft short lived as it found itself imprisoned by another, significantly more pleasant prison - Sana’s mouth.

You let your fingers graze through her pink hair, a color that you’d thought was daring and outandish on any other girl but was perfect for her. It only amplified the dichotomy that was  Minatozaki Sana - that duality of angel and devil that was the core of her.

She lets your cock pop out from between her lips, those perfect pink lips wrapped tightly around your hard flesh as she lets it exit the warmth of her wet mouth. She looks up at you as she presses the sensitive head against her tongue, letting you see first hand the face of an angel engaged in an act that was not at all angelic.

She rises from her knees, wiping the excess saliva from her lips with the back of her hand.

“Fuck me now,” she says, almost a hiss, a sexy but almost angry look in her eyes. She turns around, facing the walls of the bathroom stall, and quickly undoes the belt and buttons of her small, tiny pair of black shorts she is wearing beneath the already extremely short hem of her sparkly blue dress.

You press yourself against her, both of your hands reaching under the hem of her skirt for the waistband of her shorts and pulling them down with a roughness that surprises you, revealing the pale skin of her perfectly shaped ass, round and full. You give her right butt cheek a firm slap, one that elicits a yelp from the surprised Japanese girl.

She turns halfway around to you and bites her lip.

Your right hand snakes around and dives towards her crotch, and you are unsurprised to quickly feel the slick wetness between her thighs. She wanted this, needed it, just like you knew she would.

You take your shaft in your right hand, still slick and glistening with her saliva. She bends slightly at the waist, her hands pressed against the green wall of the stall - but the rest of her upper body is quickly pressed against it when your shaft parts her wet lips and you slip inside her wet, hot body.

Being inside Minatozaki Sana was otherworldly, as it always was, but here, in the women’s bathroom of some random bar in Seoul, on the eve of the most important operation of your career and with all the stress of past and future relationships clouding your mind, she felt downright heavenly. She was a release from all the stress, a valve for all the frustration and unease boiling in your mind.

Sana lets out a sharp gasp as you fill her for the first time, the same way she did every time. You never tired of hearing that gasp. It was a gasp of pleasure, of relief, of being filled and completed - a puzzle finished with a missing piece. She squeezes her walls around you, her body thankful for the sensation, if the intense tightness and slick wetness were any indication.

When you withdraw your glistening shaft for the first time you relish in the feel of her walls gripping you, not wanting to release you - but just as quickly they welcome you back inside as you penetrate her again. Soon you are pumping in and out of her at a slow, steady pace, her soft gasps turning quickly into long, drawn out moans as she is fucked against the wall.

You spend long moments with your gaze downward, watching as your shaft drills in and out between those round cheeks of hers. You need more, need more of her body, and so you reach up with your left hand to her chest, finding the top of her short dress and pulling downward.

Her breasts bounce free from their tight prison, and Sana gasps in surprise at being newly exposed - not that she minded in the slightest, so lost was she in the pleasure fling her mind and welcoming the potential new source of it. You reach up and squeeze her soft, round mounds with both hands, enjoying the feel of her warm flesh in your fingers and the tight, hard nipples poking your palms.

“Oh, fuck!” Sana hisses, your hands on her breasts bringing her torso upright, until you are both fucking almost vertically. 

You increase your tempo, satisfied now that Sana was ready for more, and before long you are truly fucking her, drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body with quick, deep strokes. With each stroke you don’t pull out more than halfway - you concentrate instead on pumping hard and fast, getting as deep as you could inside her given your standing position.

Soon Sana is cumming, and you are only partially surprised at how quickly she is coming to her first orgasm given the circumstances and the audacity of sex in a bar bathroom. Her mouth opens in a frozen, wordless “O”, her body tightening and pulsing around you, her small frame quivering and shaking as she momentarily loses control of herself.

It takes every effort not to join her in bliss, and you knew she certainly wouldn’t have minded if you did so - but it was her that brought up what you had spoken about in Hawaii, and you weren’t about to disappoint her.

You release her naked breasts from your hands, and she slumps forward against the wall of the bathroom stall, breathing heavily, still recovering from her orgasm. You slip out of her, your rock hard shaft drenched with her juices - and almost quivering with anticipation. The low bathroom light glistens on your cock, and you are satisfied that it is wet enough for what is to come next.

Sana’s head is still hanging between her arms - but when you bring your palms to the cheeks of her ass and spread them slightly, her head rises and turns to look at you.

You had seen Sana deep in the throes of lust and passion before, but you’d never seen her like this - so filled with devilish lust and need at what was about to come. She locks eyes with you, bites her lip softly, and gives you the slightest of nods.

Her cheeks spread apart with your palms, you point the head of your cock at the opening of her ass and begin to press forward.

Sana gasps as your head presses against her tight opening, her body refusing to let you in at first - but you press forward with your hips, slowly parting her entrance. Sana squirms and quivers as her opening slowly parts, and soon you are finally inside her.

Sana’s hands tighten into fists against the smooth surface of the bathroom stall, and a grimace of pain overtakes her partially turned head as you penetrate her ass for the first time. She lets a long hiss escape her lips, and you kiss the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her, bringing your left hand to match hers on the wall, covering her small hand with your own.

Soon you are halfway inside her ass, and you go no further, letting her get used to the new penetration. When you stop moving Sana lets out a long breath that she didn’t know she was holding.

“Fuck,” she spits, “fuck you’re so big inside me.”

“Do you want to-“

“Fuck no,” she snaps, “fuck, please don’t stop. Don’t even think about stopping. I want this. I want you. I want you to fuck my ass.”

You reach up with your right hand, past her hips and her right breast, to her chin, turning it slightly until you are able to kiss her. You spend several long moments there, your lips and tongues playing with each other.

“Now keep going,” she says as she breaks the kiss, “fill me. Fill my ass. Fill me, and fuck me.”

You aren’t one to refuse such an order, and so you press forward - all the while, your eyes are glued to hers as she looks over her shoulder at you, your hand still grasping her by the chin, those eyes glazed with pleasure and lust and just a hint of pain and discomfort. You have never seen her like this - so much in need. You’d seen her face when she is filled with your cock for the first time, seen it during sex, when she is moaning and sighing and gasping, seen it twisted in pleasure when she cums - but never like this. Never twisted in a heady mix of pain and pleasure and pure, unfiltered lust.

It takes minutes or hours or days later, you weren’t sure - but soon you are fully inside her, buried to the hilt inside Minatozaki Sana’s ass.

It is at that moment that you both hear the bathroom door open, and two women walk inside.

Sana’s eyes go wide with surprise.

“I think we’re ready,” says one of the voices - Jihyo’s. 

“I think so too,” agrees another - Nayeon.

“We’re ready,” Jihyo says, “the real question is whether you’re ready.”

“Of course I am,” Nayeon answers with all the confidence in the world, “I always am.”

You wonder what your ex-girlfriend would have said if she’d known that you were just a few feet away, fully buried inside the ass of one of his colleagues.

Jihyo and Nayeon continue their conversation - mostly mundane details about tomorrow’s operation. As they speak, you slowly draw your shaft outside of Sana’s tightly grasping ass for the first time, and once it is halfway out, you slowly push back inside her.

Sana is a quivering and squirming mess, and soon you are slowly pumping in and out of her body, your pace relaxed as you enjoy the tight, hot flesh of Sana’s body wrapped around your cock.

Sana’s tightness  is overwhelming, to say the least - her pussy was tight, but her ass on another level altogether. Not as wet, of course, but almost overwhelmingly tight and hot, grasping you tightly with each entrance and exit like a glove. You weren’t sure how much experience she had had with anal sex, but soon she was taking you in and out of her ass smoothly, the pain and discomfort of your initial penetration quickly lessening and giving way to the novel, new sensation of pleasure from having her ass filled.

Sana lets a short, sharp gasp escape her lips when you fill her to the hilt - one she clearly regrets, given the surprised and embarrassed look on her face. You reach up with your right hand to cover her mouth, and soon you are fucking her ass with your hand clasped over her lips as she tries her best to stifle her moans. Her eyes are glazed over now with pleasure, still locked to yours even as you pump in and out of her asshole.

After awhile her gasps lessen and then end completely as she becomes used to the hard length pumping in and out of her butt. She reaches up with her right hand to cover yours, and she pulls it down her face, until it is at her throat. You didn’t know she was into choking, and she had never shown much interest in it before - but you’d never had her ass before either. You feel her warm neck pulsing beneath your palm. She squeezes the outside of your hand slightly, causing you to clamp a little bit around her slim neck. 

The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her ass to clench even tighter around you - and the added tightness brings succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you are going insane.

The novelty of it - of fucking Sana’s ass, your hand around her throat - and the danger - being in the bathroom of a busy bar, with your colleagues outside and two of them actually in the same bathroom, seemingly oblivious to the lewd act taking place a few paces away from them - it was all overwhelming.

Outside the bathroom stall, mere feet away, Nayeon and Jihyo are continuing their conversation. Thankfully, the stall you are occupying is a little ways away from the mirror and sinks where you presume they are having their conversation, meaning there was little chance of them noticing what was happening unless they were standing directly outside of the stall.

“...and we’ll be in the van, keeping an eye on everything,” Jihyo says, “Me, their tech specialist, one of the girls from their Tokyo office.. What was her name? The one with the pink hair. Oh, and... him.”

Nayeon lets out a scoff.

“How did he take it, anyway?” Jihyo asks, “I mean, how did he react to your... interrogation techniques?”

“I don’t give a shit what he thinks. I know it turned him on enough to fuck that slut that runs their office in town while they were watching.”

“And you don’t care that he’s got a little harem of girls that he fucks whenever he wants?”

There is a short silence. You imagine Nayeon is considering her answer.

“No,” she says finally. Maybe you were imagining it, but she sounded a little less sure, a little less confident of herself just then.

“Hmm. I could’ve sworn maybe you still had feelings for him.”

“A long time ago. When I was young and stupid.”

“And those feelings won’t ever come back?”

You tense and ready yourself to hear the answer, but all you hear is the sound of the door opening, and the sound of their heels on the tiled floor as they finally leave the bathroom.

The whole time they were speaking, you were continuing to pump in and out of Sana’s ass. It surprised you you lasted this long. And you were more than willing to let yourself fall over the edge.

Your thrusts quicken in pace as you near the edge.

“Cum inside me,” Sana gasps, free to speak now that Nayeon and Jihyo had left, “Choke me!”

Sana’s hand, the one stop your hand at her throat, tightens as though willing you to increase your grip on her windpipe. You are still afraid of hurting her - you already felt guilty for causing her pain and discomfort, however temporary, when you first entered her ass. But her hand on top of yours, clasped around her throat, dismissed any worry you may have had about taking things too far. Your orgasm beckons, and the hand around Sana’s pale throat tightens involuntarily with each thrust in her hot, tight hole.

“Do it... own me. I’m yours. Choke me while you fuck my ass... while you use me! Fill me... Fill my ass with your cum!”

With a few final, short, hard thrusts into Sana’s ass, you bury yourself as deep inside her as you can before finally letting go. Thick, hot cum spurts from your shaft into Sana’s willing depths, her hot, tight ass squeezing and pulsing around your cock as if milking every last drop from you.

As you cum your hand around her throat involuntarily tightens, and the moan that escapes Sana’s throat turns into a gasp - the dark part of you takes obscene pleasure in that fact.

Both of your bodies quiver and shake as the intense pleasure of your orgasm overwhelms your senses. It seems to last forever - longer than any other orgasm you’d had lately. Nothing else exists for those long seconds, aside from Sana’s shaking body in your arms and the hot mess you’ve made inside her.

Your cock pulses a few final times as your orgasm slowly subsides and releases the last spurts of cum into Sana’s body and you regretfully come down from your high. After a few more seconds of treasuring the feel of the hot, creamy mess you’ve left inside her, you slowly draw your half-soft cock out of her body. Within seconds, white, pearly semen begins to leak out of her and onto the reddened, sore cheeks of her ass.

You collapse against the opposite wall of the bathroom stall, trying in vain to process what had just happened. Your eyes remain glued to Sana’s still-quivering form as she tries and mostly fails to collect herself. Slowly she turns so that she too is leaning with her back against the opposite wall, her naked breasts and crotch still exposed, her black shorts still around her knees.

Her inner thighs glisten, your juices and hers flowing down her naked skin. 

“Fuck,” she gasps. A cute smile that you find oddly out of place given her current state of undress appears on her lips, and you smile right back. 

In an action that would have been intensely adorable had she not been half naked, mere minutes from the dirtiest sex she had ever had, Sana blows away a stray strand of pink hair that has fallen into her face before smiling cutely at you. 

The devil satiated for now, she lets a little bit of the angel return.

—-

“HQ to Blue 1, come in.”

“This is Blue 1, loud and clear,” Nayeon responds.

It is noon the next day, hours before the scheduled start of Nayeon’s operation. You are standing in the underground parking lot of JYP as Nayeon tests the connection and clarity of the miniature communication earpiece she had hidden in her ear. From the open rear door of the van, where she is overseeing all the technology involved in the operation, Jeongyeon gives you a thumbs up.

“Can you adjust the camera on her jacket? The picture isn’t quite centered,” she adds as she slides back into the rear of the van on her wheeled chair.

You reach for the small pin, which was in truth a miniature wireless camera, on the short blazer Nayeon is wearing, adjusting the angle as Jeongyeon requested. Nayeon fidgets and squirms, clearly uncomfortable with your sudden proximity.

“Will you sit still for a second?” you ask, sounding a little more annoyed than you wanted to.

“Will you hurry up? It’s a goddamn pin, it’s not that hard to straighten,” she replies with a similarly annoyed tone.

You huff under your breath at how difficult she was being - she had been this way the entire morning. Having done what you could, you turn back to the van.

“Jeongyeon? What about now?”

A couple of moments pass as she reviews the video feed.

“Yeah, it’s still a little crooked. Let me see what I can do on my end,” she yells from the van.

You stand there awkwardly with Nayeon, both of you unsure what to do next while Jeongyeon worked on the video feed. Nayeon fidgets with her blazer and earpiece, and you pull out your phone and pretend to look through your emails.

“So… why did you choose Blue as your callsign, anyway?” you ask Nayeon, not taking your eyes away from your phone. You wanted to break the awkward silence somehow.

“I… It’s my favorite color. Thanks for remembering.”

You smirk at Nayeon’s comment.

“It was years ago, Nayeon. People forget things.”

“It’s a pretty simple thing to remember. Pretty much everything I gave you was blue.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Including that blue hoodie I gave you for our second anniversary. The one you wore for like a year straight, the one you loved so much? But who cares, you probably threw it away a long time ago,” Nayeon finishes. You look up from your phone to see that she has turned away from you, looking blankly at some of the other parked cars in the lot.

You go back to wondering about just why she was so upset today. The two of you had settled on being coldly indifferent towards each other at work and ignoring each others’ presence altogether outside of it, but today something had changed - from the moment she had come into the office this morning she had seemed angry and upset at you.

“What exactly is your problem today, Nayeon?” you demand, wanting to know just why you were being treated this way.

Nayeon crosses her arms, still facing away from you.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says after a short silence as she casts her eyes downward, “forget about it.”

“Nayeon-”

You are interrupted by the sound of a woman jogging into the parking lot from the nearby elevator. It is Sana, her hair a flurry of wavy pink strands as she pulls back the hood atop her head. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late! I slept in…” she says, catching her breath. She fans herself with one hand and with the other she unzips the blue hoodie she is wearing…

Your blue hoodie. The one you gave her what seemed like a lifetime ago, when you spent your first night together in Tokyo. The same one that was given to you as an anniversary present, so many years ago...

You turn to Nayeon to see that she has already noticed what the Japanese girl is wearing. She tried, on the surface, to keep composed, but you had seen that look before - it was the same look she wore when you told her about the job offer from JYP, the same one that would mean the end of your relationship. It was a look of someone whose heart had just been shattered, but whose pride was keeping her from outwardly showing it.

“I… Sana, I think Jeongyeon needs some help in the van, can you help her out?”

Sana is puzzled at your request, but not being any wiser, she nods an affirmative to the both of you and moves to join Jeongyeon.

You turn to Nayeon, who is almost shaking with fear and hate and heartbreak.

“Nayeon, I-”

“No, don’t even start,” she hisses, holding up a hand as though physically stopping you from going any further, “Don’t.”

You notice she is quivering with equal parts hate and anger and hurt, her hands balled into fists as she struggles to contain the emotions overwhelming her.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” she says under her breath, “for still having feelings for you. For hoping you still had feelings for me. And for taking this job when Jihyo asked, and going halfway across the world for the chance that maybe, just maybe, you and I could give it another shot.”

You want to say something, want to tell her it was all a big unfortunate mistake, a big misunderstanding, and that Sana wearing the blue hoodie meant nothing.

“But here you are,” Nayeon continues, her voice and tone wavering, “and you’ve done nothing but parade the train of sluts that you’re sleeping with in front of me - hell, you even fucked one while I was in the same goddamn bathroom, because that’s how much of an asshole you are. And you even gave her the hoodie I gave you, just to rub it in my face. That’s how much you wanted to show me I was just some girl you’d fucked and left behind in your hometown. Just another girl. Just another hole. Just another slut.”

You are shocked speechless by Nayeon’s confession, and you are unable to defend yourself from her accusations. All you can do is stand there, dumbfounded, as the woman you once loved so much struggles to compose herself.

“But really, I should be thanking you. Because I loved you. I thought for a minute that maybe I still loved you.”

Nayeon pauses, and in that moment a single tear falls from her eye, down a face that is shattered by emotion.

“So thank you, really - for convincing me that you don't deserve my love.”

Nayeon turns and leaves the parking lot back in the direction of the elevators, and just as it was so many years ago, she leaves with a broken heart.

---

[octalove]

II: Blood and Ghosts

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader tries getting a clue. part one

“Typically, they steer clear of the Village, but that doesn’t appear to be the case as of recent. Oracle found out about an operation out of a Hadley’s Deli there- standard money laundering, but it also could’ve been linked to the shipment of cocaine that we found at the Yacht Basin.”

“Right. So what changed?”

“A better question would be what didn’t?”

A beat. The contrasting silence that followed jarred me from my thoughts as I glanced over and realized that Bruce was prompting me for an answer. Tim looked expectant and inquisitive, but that was sort of his default expression.

“Oh. Sorry. What?” I said apologetically.

“Maroni.” He said simply. Nothing came to mind. He didn’t express verbal disappointment as he turned back to Tim, but I knew it was there.

“Red Hood has been operating out of The Bowery. Maroni and Falcone are stubborn, but they’re losing. He’s pushing them north.”

“So moving to the Village isn’t expansion. It’s desperation.” Tim muttered thoughtfully.

“I believe so.”

“May I be excused?” I asked. Bruce glanced back to me, studying a moment. Scrutinizing every detail; not deciding whether or not to let me leave- rather, deciding why I wanted to. Then, he nodded. Seems he wasn’t in the mood to ask.

I swept up my laptop and phone, and ascended the stairs from the cave to the manor quickly, trying to escape the eyes boring into my back. Only when the cool, lemon-scented air of the manor filled my lungs did I breathe a sigh of relief. Alone. All I needed was few minutes alone. I scaled the marble steps to my room and shut the door.

I hadn’t told anyone that I saw him three nights ago. That I watched him murder a man in retribution for me. My alter ego, anyway. I don’t know why. Maybe because it would mean having to tell them I snuck away. Having to walk through every detail again; sights, sounds, smells. What Red Hood was wearing and what he sounded like, what gun he was holding and how he held it, what prompted him to fire, how many shots and how he acted when he did.

But if ever there was a time to be high-strung and anxious, it was when you were keeping secrets from Batman. And Oracle. And Nightwing. And Red Robin. And Robin. Damian in particular could smell a lie like blood in the water, and he wasn’t too polite to hold your gaze until he was certain you weren’t hiding anything. That, and the art of solidarity was still foreign to him- even if I did tell him in confidence, he would take it right to Bruce. Possibly the police. Maybe a news outlet or two just because it soothed his vindictive nature. I’d been avoiding him.

Evening bled into night, and I was barred from masked business on school nights, so I couldn’t even patrol to ease the anxious energy. Still, that meant less opportunity for Bruce to analyze my musculoskeletal ticks or whatever the hell he did to tell when I was nervous, so I decided it was a worthy trade-off and resigned myself to independent research.

Who the hell was Red Hood, anyway? Half of Gotham was looking for him, the other half was running from him. I opened my laptop.

His debut was The Viper House, a strip club in Little Italy that also functioned as a human trafficking hub when the owner, Renaldo, needed to buy his wife (or handful of mistresses) a new Blue Nile diamond. By the end, the building had to be gutted. There’s only so much crime scene clean-up can do with carpet.

Next came the kingpins. Blowing open a trafficking operation had a short grace period if you didn’t cut out the source. Italian mobsters, the Romani families, the crews that had built empires on drug and sex trade dropped like flies until they found that their numbers dwindled for the first time since Joker finally bit it. The dozens of loyal men on their payroll decided that empty pockets were better than a full grave, and when it came to the business of death, Red Hood was very persuasive. It went on like that for six months; he amassed men, power, weapons, and tech. Most importantly, a potent reputation. This was due in no small part to his creative footwork; he liked to send messages. One file covered an incident where Alphonso Kuznetsov decided to write Gotham’s new player an open letter in the evening column suggesting that if he decided to bring his business to Port Adams, he might find himself in a ‘watery grave’. Kuznetsov was found a week later when a fishing vessel drug an entire coffin from the bottom of the harbor, padlocked and full of water. He was bound, drowned, and gagged with a copy of the very paper that featured his message. Red Hood must have been in touch with his artistic sensibilities; it was all very Shakespearean.

Of course, these were all just words. Rumors and hearsay. All I knew of the Red Hood from my intimate encounter was that he had a quick hand, an incendiary temper, and he didn’t fucking like creeps. All the makings of vigilante, if you chose to see it like that.

I sighed. Two hours and none of my research gave me any indication of why me. Why the hell should Red 57-kill-count Hood care if some goon told me he like the way I looked in my suit? I may has well have been the veiled threats of Kuznetsov’s evening column for all my inconsequence to him.

But it all kept running through my mind. Backwards and forwards. The vitriol in his voice preluding the barbarity of his reprimand. The way he said little Batgirl, like the crime was that I’d been engaged at all. More than the memory, something was telling me to keep digging. Something dragging me back to Crime Alley with the current of the running blood through Little Italy’s gutters.

I had to do something. And if that something wasn’t going to Bruce, then school tomorrow would have to wait.

The morning went along as per usual. I woke up at six, dawned my Gotham Academy uniform, grabbed a muffin and coffee, completed a complicated and well-practiced secret handshake with Tim (that Dick was secretly jealous of), and was out the door at 6:30, keys jingling in Alfred’s hand.

He dropped me off outside the ornate gothic academy, and I waved goodbye as I skipped backward along the cobblestone walkway. Once his black Mercedes was a pinpoint on the horizon, I promptly turned heel from the front doors, heading East toward the Narrows. Catching the subway there would take me as far as the Knight’s Stadium, and from there it was a short distance to the Alley. I wasn’t exactly inconspicuous in my academy uniform- anyone who gave a shit could pretty confidently deduce that school was in session at 8am on a Tuesday, and no student native to the Alley could afford a private education, so I was bound to draw eyes. I hadn’t packed an extra outfit incase Tim or Alfred got suspicious- that was paranoia puppeteering. I wasn’t used to skipping school. I’d have to make due.

Crime Alley in broad daylight was a brand new experience. At night, at least the smoke unfurling from the sewer grates hit the flickering streetlights and offered an unconventional charm. During the day, it was like shedding light on a foul sin. I was starkly out of place, and even the lapdog-sized rats seemed to know it, scurrying back across gritty concrete when I passed by. I looked for familiar things I’d seen the other night- a run-down apartment complex, a gated liquor shop, a meager but menacing corner-store, busy with glaring laymen reluctantly dragging out their wallets for a pack of cigarettes. I caught the eye of a woman sitting on the curb with a paper-bag bottle for company, and she scowled.

Spurned by the rats, and now by the people, I was running out of options. Sticking close to the buildings that perimetered the square, I moved in tandem with the motion of the locals, so as not to draw any eyes by looking lost. It was an unnerving scape; too quiet for my liking, but just empty enough to feel safely underseen. I made my way past familiar landmarks until I finally stood before the warehouse where I’d been.

I listened; no sound from inside. Even henchmen have day jobs. Jimmying the rusty padlock was just a matter of brandishing a bobby-pin from my hair, and the heavy metal door swung open without much resistance. I cautiously picked my way around crates and boxes, unsure of what I was looking for. Clues, maybe. Proof that he was here and dropped a body in my name, amen.

There was a dark, daunting stain on the floor where Hoffman’s body was. A phantom gunshot echoed in my ears, along with a nauseating sound of flat-back weight slapping concrete.

“Ain’t school in session?” I spun on my heel, meeting the red helm of a towering man draped in leather and armor. My mouth went dry. My right foot slipped back into a fighting stance before I remembered I was in cashmere and plaid, not kevlar. Not that I even stood a chance either way; but at least he seemed to harbor good will toward Batgirl. Wordlessly, I took a few steps back until I was standing over the blood and ghosts of Hoffman’s demise.

“P-please. Don’t- don’t hurt me.” I rasped.

I could play the rebellious, morose teenager and come up with something like it was a dare, or I could offer no explanation and simply cry.

Red Hood’s head tipped one way. His hands were empty- for now. Two heavy-looking glocks hung on his waist. I didn’t want to die on top of Hoffman’s blood stain. There was a level of symbolism there I was deeply unprepared to spend my final moments analyzing.

“Lookin’ for something, darlin’?” I swallowed- unable to say you.

“Wh-What do you want?” I asked.

He laughed, but it was humorless. Lacking whatever key component made laughs so appealing. As though the sound rung off the gravestones of uncanny valley before reaching my ears. “I think we’re both asking stupid questions.” He said. I was fucked. He outweighed me by a hundred pounds, and could out-draw me even if I had a weapon. I had no explanation for my being here that suited a civilian, and my phone was in my bag, meaning help was a world away.

But just as soon as he advanced a few paces, he stopped, and gestured to the crimson beneath my feet.

“Enjoy the show the other night?” He asked, before pulling something out of his jacket pocket and twirling it between his fingers with practiced ease. A batarang.

“You forgot somethin’.”

Cold, knife-like fear erupted in my spine, driven to the hilt. He knew. How did he know? What the hell was I supposed to do? My terror must have shown on my face, because he stopped fidgeting.

“It’s okay, babydoll. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“H-how-“

He moved again, slow, lazy strides until he was no more than an inch from me.

“Who are you?” I asked, figuring if I was gonna die, I should at least know that much.

His hands grabbed mine. The leather of his gloves was cool on my skin, but it barely registered for the closeness of him. I stared at the red bat symbol on his chest, jagged and angry looking. I blinked and looked down slowly as he closed my fingers around the cold metal of the batarang.

“Go home, little bird.” It was a cold, seething demand, his voice snagging on the scrambler to make it sound like a low growl.

“Tell Batman when he’s ready to stop sending his toy soldiers,” His hand went under my chin, tilting my head upward. My breath shook as I drew it, hitching, even though the man before me was faceless. Clean, red monochrome, glinting in the light.

“I’m getting impatient.” *

I walked through the manor door in a daze, the cold steel batarang searing my palm.

Bruce and Damian were in the living room, each invested in their own reading material. The grandfather clock ticked his steady tempo, and I inconspicuously adjusted the bag on my shoulder. Bruce had a steaming cup of coffee on the glass side table beside his leather chair.

“How was school?” He asked, not looking up. My paranoia convinced me it sounded rhetorical, but I shrugged anyway.

“Same old.” A glance, to see if my lie had landed.

Damian was the spitting image of his father. He, along with Tim, operated in the wake of being an only child, so he never did care about how I did in school, or much of anything else in my orbit. If at any point he did, he never thought to ask. Father and son looked like a matching set of dolls sitting there, cross-legged, with dark hair and gaunt eyes, both leanly muscular, and habitually poised; a consequence of being from the upper echelon of each of their respective backgrounds.

“Hey, um, are you going out tonight?” I asked.

“I am.”

“Can I come?”

“Are you certain you want to?” He still didn’t look up.

I blinked. “Um… yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been distracted since the last outing.”

Damian visibly tuned in.

“Oh. Sorry. I had a big paper I was worried about for school, but I turned it in today, so I’m good to go.” I threw him a thumbs up, even though he wasn’t looking.

A beat.

“Very well, then. Nine o’clock.”

I nodded, and headed toward the stairs.

“Y/N,” I stopped, and turned around. He was looking at me now, eyes blue and steady.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you did well?”

“…”

“On the paper.”

I threw him a smile. “The best.”

[achliegh]

Positive

This is the last chapter! AHHHHH!

Hello, I asked how everyone would feel if I did a prequel to O&O. I got a lot of yes’ and screaming so I decided it was best to do it. I have been thinking about this ever since chapter 17 of Olive and Otto. So here it is! If you have any questions about characters just send me an ask and I will gladly answer! (Also I just get so happy when people want to talk to me)

Thank you to: @walking-crisis, @clearsuitcasecookienerd, @blingywitch, @waltzintherain, and @moonofthenight, @onlydreamofmysoul (If I missed anyone who answered my asks please let me know! I know some haven’t answered yet but I am hoping they will)

TW/CW: High school bullies, Coming out to homophobic family, Slurs, Mentions of eating disorders, Homophobic languages and attitudes, mentions of sex, and pregnancy, teen pregnancy, probably food and drink. Oh! And cigarettes and underage drinking.

Leo and his family belong to @lumosinlove

Chapter 9

Birth

July 2016

Indigo was laughing when it happened, she was on the phone with Parker just catching up on all the drama she’s missed over the past few weeks. She has been facetiming all of her new friends because she misses them and she wants to be updated on Lola’s arrest. Lola messed with someone a month ago and they decided to press charges for harassment and it worked! Everyone was stoked, even miles were coming out of his Lola cocoon a little bit.

“You should have seen her face!” Parker and her laugh when suddenly there was a bit of a wet feeling down south, now ever since month three indigo has peed a little when she laughs because that's just what happens, but this felt different. She brushed it off as her pregnancy symptoms not even realizing her due date is in a day.

However instead of it just being a small little leak that stops it just kept happening, a steady flow, was it barely noticeable, yes all until she sits down. She goes to take an afternoon bath because her back has been spasming all day. She takes off her clothes with a little bit of a struggle, she goes to step out of her underwear when a sharp pain stabs her in her lower back and pelvis.

Then she knows.

She goes back into the bedroom throwing on some clean shorts and a Leo shirt, she then carefully goes down the stairs to the kitchen where everyone else is. She gets to the doorway and when everyone looks up she suddenly gets nervous.

“Ummm… I think these two are ready to come out.” She mentally slaps her forehead with how dumb that sounded but the way Eloise calmly sets her mug of still hot tea in the sink and walks over to Indigo. She asks a bunch of questions that she no longer remembers as the panic of having to give birth sets in. Eloise sees this.

“Leo, would you be a sweetheart and go grab the bag I made you pack months ago please, Wyatt, will you call the hospital and let them know we are coming in. “ She takes indigo’s hand and gives it a comforting squeeze.

“I’m okay” She was being honest she hasn’t had another contraction yet but it made her all the more anxious for when they do show up.

They got to the hospital and were taken into a birthing room right away. Doctors and nurses were taking diagnostics on her and every once in a while Indigo would notice a furrow of a brow and a concerned look.

She would try to ignore it and put it down to the doctors and nurses getting anxious about helping someone give birth. But when a doctor pulls Eloise to the side to talk to her the feelings all come crashing down. The contractions are getting closer every hour and they are becoming almost unbearably painful. She was angry and in pain and squeezing the life out of Leo’s hand, and he would let her.

They had planned a c-section beforehand, the thought terrified Indigo but she knew with her body and having more than one baby this was going to happen. But what she wasn’t expecting was for it to become an emergency c-section!. Apparently the larger baby was facing the wrong direction and was making it so they needed to be removed as soon as possible. This means she has to be knocked out, and Leo can’t be in the room.

They were getting her ready to wheel her out of the room whe Indigo pulled Leo down the collar of his shirt and gave him one last kiss just in case she didn’t make it. They pull away and she relaxes a little into the bed as they take her away.

But that kiss fucked leo up for the rest of the day.

He would pace around the room, his heart pounding in his chest, his dad was taking pictures to make fun of him later with, while Eloise was equally nervous but not as obvious as Leo. Leo was going insane.

Running his hands through his hair tugging on his clothes sitting down for a couple minutes and tapping his foot before getting back up and pacing the room again. Asking if his parents need anything and they say no for the thousandth time.

When a nurse pokes her head into the room to give them an update Leo about cries in relief when they tell him that it is going smoothly so far. About an hour later a knock on the door catches their attention, when the door opens the same nurse comes in.

“Would you like to meet your son Mr. Knut.” They smile at Leo as she nods still in shock and follows the nurse to a room where babies are after being birthed in the operating room.

He was gorgeous. Small wispy tufts of hair were on his head, he had his mother skin and cheeks, his eyes weren’t open so Leo couldn’t tell what color they were. When he was handed his son she couldn’t help but let a few tears fall down his face. He notices his dad holding up the camera and gives a shaky smile.

As he was setting Otto back into his medical cot the door opened, in came a much smaller baby but still beautiful.

“Here is your daughter, they are fishing up with Indigo and running some tests before bringing her back to the room.” The Nurse nods to the other nurse before turning to leave the room.

Leo reaches out to pick up his little girl and realizes just how small she is compared to her brother, he hope she won’t have any problems later on. Snuggling her to his chest just soaking in her warmth and the feeling of having a child he sets her back into the cot as they wheel both out to do some medical stuff.

Hours go by, they take Otto to have a couple of extra tests run and Leo hasn’t stopped smiling. But the worry is still there. They are moved back into the room they were in originally to wait for Indigo to come back.

Time passes much fast once Leo is able to watch his kids through a window instead of just pacing around a white room. He notices that his son isn’t as wiggly as the other babies in the baby jail but he tries not to worry about it too much.

They made it.

He was called back into the room as Indigo started to wake up. They smile at each other and cry as they hold their kids. This is a journey that has changed their lives forever.

And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Indigo meets Olive first. It’s love at first sight, her little head on Indigo’s chest while the exhausted new mother takes to Eloise about something random that Leo isn’t paying attention to. Olive has brown hair like her mom but the brightest eyes like him. They were a perfect mix.

Once the extra testing was done for Otto they brought him back into the room to eat and said everything looked fine. So, Leo stole Olive from Indigo as Otto was placed in her arms. Wyatt was constantly snapping photos and Eloise never looked so proud.

Their family was complete.