#THE TEMPERATURE WENT UP IN THE PAST HOUR AND A HALF THAT'S BULLSHIT

[david-watts]

I swear to god the weather is evil atm

[bachiras-toaster]

aphrodisiacs: what a load of bullshit ~ : ̗̀➛

SATORU GOJO x f!reader

cw: smut, pills (use of the aphrodisiacs), slight breeding kink, dacryphilia

wc: 1.3k

"Four rounds? Okay, that's just insane. Two is crazy enough!" You felt your face scrunch out of disbelief towards your friend, Shoko, who was shaking a small tub of pills that fit between her thumb and forefinger. You watched with narrowed eyes at the tablets while your other best friend, Satoru, seemed to be leaned back on the bench, eyeing the tub out of pure boredom rather than interest.

"These aphrodisiac pills are no joke. I'm serious, (Y/n). I actually felt helpless at times." Shoko exclaimed, holding her hand out towards your sleeve to guide your attention to the pills; you still seemed skeptical.

"Surely it's a placebo. There's no way you can go that long without passing out."

When you tilted your lip with suspicion, Shoko only rolled her eyes and sighed before leaning back on the bench, shaking the tub lightly as she looked up towards the sky.

"I've gone multiple rounds without passing out before." Gojo commented nonchalantly, tensing his shoulders in a shrug as he stated what he believed was his fun fact. However, although he had put forth his own experiences as a way of trying to involve himself in the conversation, both you and Shoko just left him glances of dismissal.

"That's different for you. You're a man." You swiftly commented, turning your nose up at your boyfriend. "Orgasms feel different for us."

"You're telling me you've gone over four rounds before?" Shoko narrowed her eyes at the tall white-haired man, trying to figure out if she should be disgusted or impressed.

"Uh, yeah? I've gone up to seven without aphrodisiacs." He rolled his eyes.

"It's insane how you have that much stamina." Shoko muttered.

"It's (Y/n) here who doesn't have any stamina. Can't even make it past two."

You felt your face flush a little with embarrassment and you immediately went to lightly punch him in the arm, your fist surprisingly landing harshly on his sleeve.

"Sounds like you need the aphrodisiacs more than I do." Shoko saw how your face contorted a little at Satoru’s off-comment and just chuckled lightly, coolly pushing the bottle of pills into your hand and closing your palm before you could reject the offer.

"I doubt they'll have any effect. Like— How does something like this even work?" You let out a scoff as you shook the bottle yourself, flicking off the lid with your thumb and squinting your eyes to peer inside.

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it." The brunette commented.

"You know what?" You puffed your chest up confidently and tilted the entrance of the bottle into the palm of your hand, allowing the pills to roll out. "I'll even take multiple."

Your best friend watched with slightly widened eyes as you optimistically allowed three tablets to tumble into your grasp. It was a concerning amount, to say the least, however it was likely that nothing all too bad would happen to you due to the presence of your cursed energy naturally protecting your body and acting as a second immune system.

"I mean, it's on you." She shrugged, already preparing to hand you her water bottle so you could begin taking the pills.

“Hey, share with the class—“

“Hey—!”

You were caught off guard as Gojo eagerly reached his slender fingers passed the entrance of the tube to take a pill for himself, tossing it into his mouth as if it were a piece of candy- Not even bothering to take any water afterwards. The abrupt action caused a loud giggle to escape the short brunette’s lips and she pinched your cheek with amusement.

“Well, you may be in for a wild night.”

“I don’t feel anything…” You paused, your palms pressing against the skin of your face in an attempt to find any change in temperature or feeling.

“Give it a while. Maybe half an hour.”

Your eyes lingered on her as she got up from the bench and began sauntering away, leaving the bottle clenched in your hands. A short huff escaped your lips as you continued to shake your head in disbelief, your eyes scanning over the small bits of text that was just barely readable on the tube’s label.

“Yeah, right… ‘no joke’ my ass. I can’t believe she believes all this bullshit.” You murmured, tugging at the collar of your shirt as a faint heat crawled up your neck.

Though, it turns out, maybe you shouldn’t have been so cocky to your closest friend. Perhaps just two hours after that very moment, you were pinned strongly beneath one of your other close friends, Satoru, who was panting heavily at his own rapid pace. Sweat drenched the both of you as your wrapped your legs around his waist to force him closer towards you and, in turn, further inside of you. The way your thighs clenched onto his waist and your insides clenched around his cock was enough to drive him wild enough, but the sound of desperate moans and pleads for more was what really gave him his stamina.

Believe yourself when you say that you hadn’t even intended to sleep with Satoru for the purposes of fulfilling your own satisfaction, he just happened to be the only person around willing to give you what you wanted. And he was quick to say yes too, the aphrodisiacs taking its toll on him as well.

“Satoru—! Fuck— More..!” You begged, eyes forming in the corners of your eyes as your nails dragged across the skin on his back. He pumped himself further into you, his large hands landing on your waist for extra support.

“Fuck, (Y/n/n), you’re squeezing me for all I’m worth…” His voice was low and husky, still breathless from the constant snapping of his hips. “I swear you’ve come even more times than I have—“

“J’shuttup—!” You whined, your eyelashes fluttering as your hips rolled involuntarily into his. As you chased what felt like your fifth high, your body shook with that same euphoria that it had done the many times before. The both of you were practically milking each other dry, yet it didn’t satiate any of your needs for one another. One after the other, you still felt like you needed more. Every time you came, the positions switched, the fucking was relentless.

Now, as you were on all fours, taking Gojo’s entire cock into your puffy cunt as his palms gripped onto your shoulders, tears streamed down your reddened cheeks, your lips quivering with both satisfaction and fatigue. You had forgotten what hour it was now and, despite your extreme tiredness, your willingness to go on did not seem to falter. The only thing that seemed to be giving in were your legs, however your pussy still craved his attention.

“T-Tell Shoko I’m never… D-Doubting her a-again—!” You babbled through your relentless moaning, feeling the tears reach the corner of your lips.

“You tell her yourself—“ He heaved his chest, his eyes glistening with another twinkle of lust as he caught a glimpse of that creamy, white ring around the base of his cock before pushing himself into you even more violently now. “God, I love it when you’re wrong…”

“Sh-Shut up—!” You whimpered incoherently, it was clear that your multiple orgasms were affecting you more than his was affecting him.

“I never thought I’d ever get to see you cry while I get to push my cum back into you for the sixth time.” He chuckled, his palms now tightly gripping your neck as he picked up his speed. “This is my lucky day.”

[mayra-quijotescx]

my family came over here to get away from mafia bullshit but the whole fucking country is mafia bullshit. our cities give all our fucking money to the most violent and worthless pieces of shit our society can create instead of providing shelter and healthcare, and then those pieces of shit with their fucking badges and fleet vehicles and military surplus get to hunt for sport all the people who are houseless and without healthcare.

(you don't want to read this. i didn't want to see it. if you do want to read, i needed to get it out of me so here it is. big tw police violence)

we just saw four fucking guys handcuff and manhandle and strap restraints around the legs and torso of a man whose only crimes as far as we can tell were being Black, poor, and suffering from heatstroke. They shoved him down onto the hood of a hot-ass black cop car in blistering daylight, the feels like temperature was 100F, then they wrangled him onto the ground in such a way that his cuffed-behind-back hands were pressed down against the scalding pavement, rush hour traffic was crawling by so the smog was thick, they at one point put him on his back and he had to arch up like a fucking banana to not have his face touch scalding asphalt, and he begged for water while the gang in blue rotated him in and out of the backseat of a different ugly-ass cop car while a couple of EMTs stood there being completely fucking negligent and worthless. This wasn't enough, apparently, so two more overpaid overgrown ringworms showed up in a third car to 'help.'

the man just needed some goddamn water and to be out of the fucking blazing heat.

And all we could do was stand there across one half of the street and fucking watch four thugs manhandle someone helpless in the throes of a medical emergency and be ready to film if their violence exited the realm of plausible deniability and approached lethality before they moved him to a second location. All we can do is fucking bear witness and try for a posthumous consequence that will just get dodged anyway because cops have their nasty-ass boots on the neck of our entire country. I wish hell was somewhere else so all those motherfuckers both active and complicit could burn in it, instead of here where we all have to live. Let hot concrete eat away at their skin for a while, see how they like it, and no water for them except when God leans down to spit in their faces. maybe i'd go there too and roast for a bit myself for not being able to do shit.

oh and then I got to be wound up the whole way home too bc when we got out of the fucking store that was the only reason we even went outside today, there was another cop car parked on the sidewalk in front of the store entrance nearer where it happened, and when we got to the road there was one sitting with its lights on in front of a fast food place across the street, and then as we were walking home one sped past us way above speed limit blinking its siren on and off. So their bloodlust was not in fact sated and they had to do a rush-hour speed trap on a main thoroughfare. fucking worthless parasite mafia thugs. the terminal-case intestinal worms of our society, bastards of the lowest and slimiest order. death is too good for every last one of them, but I wish it on them nonetheless, and when it finds them I hope it burns low and slow like a fucking stew.

[janshu]

Inu!Bakugo...for @ultimate-astridwriting's Hybrid collab!

Summary: My part of the hybrid collab. I had so much fun writing an angry Pomeranian Bakugo. 10/10 would do again. I'm not completely happy with it but who ever is? I'm still proud of myself!

Word count: 2.2k.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Bakugo being an ass, sexual content, somnophilia, collars, choking, humping, creampie, name calling (bitch, slut, whore etc.), use of the word cunt.

You sigh as you rummage around in your pocket to produce the key to your home. After a long day's work all you want to do is get some dinner, take a bath and go to bed but none of those things would be possible would they?

No, not after the spur of the moment decision to adopt a hybrid of all things. The week earlier was one of torrential downpours and near freezing temperatures, the roads making a slushy substance of half-melted ice and salt to prevent the very thing it was being mixed in with. People stayed indoors the best they could when they weren't at work but life had to shit on you and make your car breakdown in the parking garage. Umbrella rested on your shoulder, rain boots on your feet with your spare in your bag and you trudged through cold, mushy hell back home. The streets were barren as a Walmart on a weekday at 4am, no life passing by you until you crossed an alley between two businesses. A pathetic whimper had caught your attention and your gaze drifted down to a soaked cardboard box. What was in that box you weren't sure if you should curse or love. A hybrid.

Narrow red eyes stared at you in suspicion, fangs bared at you but the creature didn't make any attempts to nip at your fingers when they neared to ruffle the spikey head of hair. The hybrid had leaned into your touch before recoiling away as if you had smacked him. The black and orange collar had seen better days, the charm that dangled on the hollow of his neck read "Dynamite" but he didn't give any indication that was his name when you repeated it outloud. He was barely dressed in anything, a thin t-shirt, shorts with ragged Converse that had more holes than Swiss cheese. Truthfully he looked a few days away from starvation and how could you keep that on your conscience if you left him there? After laying your warm coat over his shoulders you somehow, someway, managed to get him back to your place. Everything went downhill from there in the blink of an eye.

The weak puppy persona was gone the moment warm food settled in his belly and within the hour he acted as if you had crowned him king of the house. Beginning his rambles of curses, demands and biting at your fingers. The worst of it happened when you tried to take his collar off for a new one, one that wasn't frayed and barely hanging on. "Katsuki" as he spat out his name with enough venom to put a Black Mamba to shame had flipped over a coffee table, ripped up every couch cushion and went so far to chew on the linoleum on the kitchen floor.

No doubt you'd be greeted with the same sight as always. Messy, dirty, unknown stains everywhere and dishes still in the sink waiting to be moved to the washer. Maybe if he wasn't such a loud ass you could train him but your frazzled nerves were at their wits end. You didn't know what to do, you were about to throw in the towel and put him up for adoption. Yep, you were disappointed to be proven right. Katsuki reclining on the couch lengthwise, remote in his hand with the most bored expression on his face while idly flipping through channels.

"Fucking finally, you're home! I've been waitin' for fucking hours for your ass to get back! I'm hungry, get your shitty ass in the kitchen and make dinner." He barked. Barely giving you any time to hang up your coat and slip off your shoes before his orders began.

"Katsuki...I can't, not tonight." Could your voice portray anymore pleading? Apparently not because he didn't seem to notice, or care.

The fluffy ear at the top of his head only flicked in response, the top lip curling into his signature snarl. "Then what the fuck are you good for? Get your fucking ass in that god damn kitchen and fucking make dinner already."

All that you were good for? All that you were good for? How dare he! He's been freeloading off you for a week now without so much as a thanks for saving him from the streets, feeding him, clothing him, keeping him warm and dealing with his bullshit and this is how he repays you?

"I've fucking had it with you!" Your voice rose higher than you meant to but at this point you didn't care, a line had been crossed. "You fucking sit there and ruin my shit and yet I'm the useless one? I have half a mind to kick you out! You can make your own fucking dinner, I've had it! I'm done! I can't take this anymore!"

Despite not having any clunky shoes on your feet still managed to resonate in the small living room while you stormed past the couch. You had expected anything, anything at all. A slap, a punch, a groan, literally anything but you were met with only silence and that somehow pissed out off even more. How could silence be so infuriating?! You didn't even notice the terror that washed over his face as you screamed at him or the way his chest heaved with the sob or how he trembled underneath your wrathful gaze as you walked away. The bedroom door slamming made short work of that.

"Fuck I'm such an ass.." You mused to yourself already regretting blowing up at him but what would an apology do that wasn't already broken? So better yet why not send yourself to bed without dinner as some kind of punishment? He'd linger at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at you with those intense eyes if you made dinner anyways so why let him win? He could his own shit for fucks sake!

After a quick shower to dethaw your bones and warm up what was left of your dead soul the softness of your pajamas helped ease the guilt gnawing away like a puppy on its first bone. Laying in bed until sleep eventually overcame you and when he knew it was safe to slip in and sneak over towards your bedside.

Rustling was what woke you. The rustling of clothes and the jingle of something metallic in the darkness of the bedroom. Whatever grogginess you normally suffered when waking up was vanishing the more details were dissected and understood by your half-asleep brain, a process that took an embarrassingly long time. Clothes rustling, the bedsheets moving, heavy pants and something incredibly warm nudging up against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Naturally your brain assumed the worst and your eyelids flew open to show nothing; at first. As your eyes adjusted to the pitch black room they found the blazing stare of those vermillion eyes, the bared fangs that belonged to your hybrid.

What the hell was Katsuki doing on top of you?

Noticing that you were awake the snarl turned into a smirk as he huffed, his large chest expanding with each desperate pant. Why did your folds feel so good just as you were waking up?

"Feel that?" How could you not? The feel of a scorching cock bumping up your folds and sensitive clit, wet from the pre leaking from the tip. There was so much of it from what you could feel, too sticky to be your own. His hips had yet to cease moving, no word from your shocked form to still his rutting hips.

"W-what the hell are you doing?" Was the most logical question your brain could come up with in the moment.

"Humping...fucking dumbass." His warm breath created goosebumps on your cool skin, his head must've been so close to yours by the hair tickling your forehead. "Tryin'ta...help ya. Shitty woman.."

"Help? How the fuck is this helping?"

"You've been working so hard so I thought maybe...a good fuck would calm ya down, relax ya." Katsuki's voice was so desperate, so needy, the humping of his cock on your labia increasing.

He was trying to help? He was going to fuck the frustration out of you? Is that was he was offering? Having sex with a hybrid was common enough to not be considered taboo but you couldn't help but feel he was trying to worm his way into your good graces. Unless your words had struck some kind of cord with him. "Okay, alright, I'll let you help."

"Fuck yeah!"

With that the head of his cock nudged against your cunt, already spread and waiting for him. How long had he been doing this for? The burn of the stretch was delicious, he was just big enough to fill you up but not hurt. Settling right up to kiss the tip of your cervix when he bottomed out. His hands grip at your thigh and hip, pulling his back to slam his cock right back into you. Over and over, over and over, over and over. Practically using you as a fleshlight to get himself off but damn if it didn't feel good, him bouncing you on his cock so roughly each thrust was sending the headboard against the wall.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck, Katsuki!" Your hands pat around and eventually find his biceps and you cling on for dear life, your nails digging crescent shaped markings into his skin.

"Yeah, yeah...you like this form of stress relief, don'tcha you dirty slut?" Undoing the collar around his neck the frayed cloth of the strap is tied around your neck, the buckle clamping down tightly to constrict your airflow while two fingers slip under it to pull and tug. "You're my dirty fucking slut! Mine...mine...mine...mine, fucking mine!"

Your fingers trailed down the tiny amount of space between your bodies down to the precious, neglected nub between your legs. Barely able to wiggle your index and middle finger down there from the rabid fucking you were receiving to circle the bundle of nerves and send yourself over the edge. Each clap of your thighs smacking against each other forcing your hate for his behavior ebbing away. If he was going to act like this all the time how could you kick him out?

"F-fuck! Gonna cum...fucking cum..cum for me. Cum with me!" Katsuki snarled as the pressure around your throat increased. Your hand was smacked away from your clit and was replaced with the large pad of his thumb, frantic circles sending your body into a writhing mess of flails and kicks.

The orgasm that had been steadily building from your ministrations had been ripped away and replaced with one quickly approaching to push you over the edge. The white hot pleasure-coil that formed underneath your belly button snapped and all of it coursed through your system in one go. Paralyzing your body for a split second as you squirted all over the hybrids cock, his still rubbing hand sending the liquid everywhere. Coating his thighs, your thighs and the bed underneath you.

"Fucking fuck! Such a whore, such a dirty girl for me! Oh my fucking g-god!" One last slam of his hips and his own body stilled, burying his cock deep inside your cunt to shoot his cum deep in your womb. He stuttered before his body collapsed on top of you, suffocating you in his sweaty muscles.

Bathing in the afterglow, coming down from your high you could've sworn you heard something. Mumbling, soft mumbling too indistinct to understand. Katsuki's head laying on your shoulder, his nose brushing along your collarbone and was he laying kisses here and there? No, you must've been seeing things. Still buried to the hilt he turned his head to speak, his fluffy ears perked and his tail gently swishing behind him. The sudden light from your phone illuminated the room, casting light on Katsuki's face and the sight made your breath hitch in your throat. Clearly he had been crying. Tear stains streaked down his cheeks, brows knitted together and the same lost look he had plastered on his face appeared again.

"Please, please don't kick me out. I'll do anything, please...please don't abandon me. Not again." His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he hid his face in your neck. Voice breaking, shoulders trembling, the verge of crying all over again quickly approaching.

Your heart broke and you returned the favor by hugging him around the shoulders, a hand carding through his hair to soothe him. Had he been abandoned? Did his previous owners not like him? Was all his aggressiveness some kind of defense mechanism? Was he giving you a reason to kick him out to keep himself from experiencing that kind of pain again? Oh, poor baby. "Never again...just don't destroy things anymore, okay? Help me around the place a little more will ya?"

"Yes." Katsuki snuggled on top of you. Finally believing he had a real home with you, a place where he could belong. "....Master."

[kaiqarker]

the watchtower’s lighthouse | stan vogel

pairing: stan vogel x reader

warnings: smut, swearing

summary: months after a disasterous first date with stan vogel, your paths cross once more when you’re lost within the depths of kern canyon national park during a thunderstorm and stan happens to have inherited a shift patrolling from the watchtower.

a/n: back from the dead because of this man. hope y’all enjoy :)

THE SKY EMULATED STAN VOGEL'S morals, consisting of gray unpredictability. If he was within the familiar walls of his assigned cabin, located along the grounds of Kern Canyon National Park, it would be an indication he wouldn't have to do much patrolling. Campers usually stayed put if there was rainfall, sticking to their own site and not off doing God knows what to the land Stan takes pride in preserving. Cascading a thick husk of superiority and knowledge was his favorite thing about the job, which is why he was disappointed he was stuck maintaining the watchtower for tonight.

The surveillance for the watchtower was run by a tight knit schedule of volunteers and the occasional firefighter that needed a change of scenery for a couple days. Needless to say with all the strange occurrences and sightings, there have been less and less people willing to take on the task. And now the duty was bestowed upon the park ranger— at least for tonight. He swore to himself that at sunrise he would be out of there and back to being the persistent, vexing gum stuck to the bottom of everyone's shoe.

Stan now sat in a wobbly chair, feet propped up on the desk and his trusty binoculars in hand. His surroundings were darkening, quicker than they would at his cabin because of the parade of trees towering over the area. He could mostly only see shadows and the outlines of the forest. His paranoia kept him on the lookout, knowing all too well what kind of perilous entities the park harbored, dark secrets he was trusted in keeping.

It was why his body jolted and he nearly fell out of his seat at a sign of movement. His hands itched to drop the binoculars and reunite with the shotgun propped up in the corner. His burst of anxiety was halted, however, once the lenses revealed a person. A wandering, soaked person clearly becoming victim to the thunderstorm that had been periodically easing and worsening for the past two hours.

Stan stood, walking over to the window with his binoculars hanging from the strap around his neck. He easily pried it open and stuck out his head. The drizzle of rain didn't reach him because of the roof stretching out along the perimeter of the watchtower, but he still felt the dip in the temperature. He estimated that it had dropped at least fifteen degrees since the start of the storm, the disappearance of the sun only escalating the drafty change.

He was about to shout down at what is most certainly a woman who had strayed too far from her campsite but then she twisted around, finally noticing the light emitting from up above. Recognization crumbles both of their attentive expressions. She becomes more than a drenched, carmine tank top, huddled body, and ropes of wet hair. He transforms into the exact opposite of a saving grace when his beige uniform and ironically angelic face are perceived.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is. Stalking your ex, eh?" Stan called down to her. The pattern of swift and drawned out words, swirled into a provoking and often mocking Australian accent, reached her ears over the light patter of rainfall.

She sighed, dramatically enough for Stan to see the rise and fall of her diaphragm. She considered turning around and braving the unknown of the wilderness again. If it wasn't for her sore feet and her prediction that she would develop some sort of hyperthermia if she stayed out in the cold, then she would've already been on her way.

"We went out on one date. You don't count as an ex," she clarified, craning her neck up at him. His smirk from knowing she was in a miserable condition and that he was the only one that could do anything about it ignited the first sense of heat she had felt in awhile. Her fists clenched against her crossed arms. "And you're the one with the pervy binoculars. On the prowel for half-naked campers, are you?"

He scoffed, winding his head to the side for a moment. "Enough with the bullshit. Are you coming up or not?"

In any other situation, he probably would've dragged their reunion out, teased her for being so helpless and naive. But she was shivering and looked so small curling into herself; it was a sight that played his heartstrings like a mystical harp. Even after a date gone wrong and the resentment that followed, he couldn't bare to see her like this.

She, on the other hand, still clung to some hesitation. Cozying up in a small, confined space with Stan where there were no other people around to ground her into the realms of sanity wasn't a compelling option. The both of them simply didn't get along. The nightmare of their date was very vivid in her mind, too, and she didn't want tonight to be a repeat of that.

Almost like nature could sense her doubts, thunder crackled and reverberated around the forest. Lightning flashed, incandescent and forbiding. The rain intensified, hitting her bare skin with a harsh force. Muddy shoes stumble forward a few steps but still don't gravitate towards the ladder.

"Better move your ass, sweetheart! Unless you'd prefer to get struck by lightning? Not to mention all the dangerous things lurking around that you haven't the slightest idea about."

Undeniable complacency was weaved into his taunt. However, it did get her moving. If she would've bothered to look up or if there wasn't such vast distance between them from their differing heights, she might've seen the concern nestled into glimmering, cobalt eyes.

Suffering through a climb where her wobbly legs and white knuckles were put the use, she eventually made it to top. Stan already had the latch swung open, bent down in the center of the room and waiting for her with an outstretched arm. Reluctantly, she took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her inside the watchtower.

"Crickey, you're freezing," he murmured. There was a softness to his features and the low timber of his voice. He'd even began rubbing over her fingers with his own, attempting to summon some warmth back into him, before he realized what he was doing and backed away.

"That's what happens when you get lost and separated from your friends and then get caught up in a storm," she summed up, monotonous.

"Your friends are idiots," Stan muttered.

She was about to deter the insults back his way until she suddenly felt a subtle weight on her shoulders. The scent combination of spearmint gum and lingering campfire smoke was sensed with a mere sniffle, and soon her hands were reaching up to pull on the sage green trim of his coat.

"You don't even know them," she settled for saying.

"They let you get lost, didn't they?" Stan's eyes found her wide ones, squinting slightly in familiar anger, but she could tell—this time at least—it wasn't directed towards her. "Yeah, bunch of mates, they are."

It was her turn to break the intimacy blossoming between them. She disconnects their stare that was inevitably going to convey all the unspoken feelings that still flourished inside of her to spare a glance over his shoulder. The furnace filled with a burning stack of dry wood lures her away from Stan, and she kneels down in front of it.

His hands go to his belt, elbows bent outward like he was posing as a chicken. He was unsettled by how consumed he was by his emotions. He wanted to give her space but then he finds himself reaching for her. He wanted to remain civil but the distaste in her tone and her infuriating, unreasonable glare casted towards him causes him to delve into his own hostile urges. The confusion of what to do and how to deal with her presence was boardering on insufferable.

But facing her, watching her beneath the firelight, the strain of his internal compass ebbed. He was no longer directionless or purposeless. The orange glare enducing a riveting shine to her hair and her tranquil countenance she upheld gazing into the flames had him feeling certain in just about every single thing that made the universe, the universe.

"You're staring," she whispers, a tremble in her reply she blames on recovering from the weather.

"And you won't even look over at me for a second." His observation coaxes her into peering at him, finding that he enclosed the distance between them by a few steps. A playful smile twitches across his lips. "What? Don't like a man in uniform?"

"I wouldn't be bragging about your outfit, Stan. You're a glorified Boy Scout," she remarks, rising from her position on her knees. Her thumb and pointer finger pinch the small, golden slate pinned to his shirt. "Even have badges and everything,"

"Get your grubby little hands away from my name tag. You're gonna smudge it," he grumbles, smacking her hand away; she lets out a humorless, short-lived laugh at his overreaction.

"Still an uptight asshole, I see."

"Still a mouthy brat, then?"

His retort makes her face harden. "Being honest doesn't make me a mouthy brat."

"Just inconsiderate?"

"You're preaching to me about being inconsiderate? You live off of ridiculing people. On our date, you insulted and humiliated our waiter because he didn't know the exact species of deer mounted to the wall."

"I was just taking a moment to educate him!"

"You called him a fumbling idiot who didn't know the basic fundamentals of biology!"

"Oh, like you were any better! Shoving your tits into the bartender's face to get free drinks!" He throws his hands up, easily overtaken by frustration and unresolved jealously.

"I know how much you make, Stan. You should be thanking me for that," she says slowly, deliberately, bringing up the one thing she knows will push him over the edge. He takes the bait, but she doesn't expect what he throws back at her.

"You're right. Thank you, sweetheart, for acting like such a slut on our first date that all anyone had to do for dessert was crouch down between your open legs."

Her mouth dropped at his statement. His exasperation dissolves to shock at processing his own harsh comment. He isn't able to focus on it for long, though, because she properly acts by allowing her palm to connect to his cheek.

Head snapped to the side, he can begin to taste a droplet of blood on his tongue, emitting from where his incisor pinched his bottom lip. He licks over the minor wound thoughtfully, heaving out a breath of false amusement. When he looks at her again, his face is dark and full of cruel intentions of revenge.

Stan surges forward and doesn't stop until her body crashes against the wall like she was just a bag of dismantled bones. His coat falls from her shoulders and slumps against the hardwood floor during the journey. His towering height and weight pin her in place, leaving her at the mercy of splayed hands and the relentless motions of his mouth against hers.

The awakening, leftover flavor of gum he must've chewed eariler just sinks in when he bites down hard on her lip. A whimper, the first sound she makes besides the ejection of a surprised gasp, is forced out her from the harsh gesture. A metallic taste replaces the one prior, one eager swipe of his tongue rolling past her parted lips.

The instinct to shoot her hands up and enmesh them in the soft, chestnut strands of his cropped hair is interrupted by an action of his own. He eases the intensity of the kiss, allowing her to breathe through languid, desperate puckers she reciprocates, but his fingers hook around both her bra and tank top straps, yanking them down her arms. She lifts herself out of them only to have him grasp the collar of her shirt and pull it down, her bra in tow, until they were just bundled material around her midriff.

Calloused hands fondled her breasts while his mouth diverts to her neck, sucking and nipping until her skin resembled the colorful patches of a quilt. She throws her head back against the wall, leaning into his touch and letting out the most delicate moans that had all of his blood gushing to the apex of his legs; she felt proof of it when he rutted himself against her.

Her forearms are squeezed between their bodies so she can reach the buttons of his shirt, manicured fingers working hastily and with not as much care she knew Stan would've liked, but he seemed to be too preoccupied by kissing her all over. Soon her hands were tugging up the white t-shirt he always wore underneath his uniform, and he helped her out by shifting it over his head and discarding it to the growing pile of clothes.

His chest was warm and inviting compared to hers. Her skin felt like cool marble underneath his fingertips, keeping her nipples pebbled and sweat from the heated exchange at bay. It was quite a contrast as their bodies continued to press together, her hands sliding along the expanse of his taut back while he concentrated on undoing her shorts.

"All mine," he mumbled against her jaw; it was certainly hard to disagree with him and all his handsy clutches and kisses that left her craving more.

"All yours," she confirmed softly.

The words barely left her mouth before she felt the heart-jolting sensation that was his hand sliding past her unzipped shorts and underwear. His fingers ran up and down down her folds, taking his time, ever the explorer. He often grazed her clit, encouraging her hips to arch into him for more direct contact, but he was careful to only give her a slight, fleeting amount.

"Stan." His name parted from her in a low whine—somewhat shamefully because she never thought she'd be in this circumstance, begging a hardass park ranger with a major superiority complex for a release.

"So wet for me. Awful naughty of you to get this soaked from one arguement with me, don't you think?"

She nuzzled her face into the side of his, nose brushing along his chiseled cheekbone. "Please."

"Aw, look at you. So sweet. You'd never think that you live to slander me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I am nothing but nice to you."

"Oh?" He inserts his middle finger into her, curling it precisely, while the heel of his hand grinds against her clit with every deliberate pump.

"Yes," she gasps.

Shallow pants gradually rack through her torso, and the ache of his throbbing cock becomes unbearable at the sight of her defenseless against his advances. He adds another finger, the grip and warmth of her slick walls causing him to shudder in anticipation.

"Such a little liar," he groans out after a particularly provocative contraction around his digits, one that rids him of whatever patience he had left.

He abruptly removes his hand from her shorts, something that makes her closed eyes flicker open. Her mouth immediately morphs into a pout and she squeezes his biceps in protest.

She isn't left waiting for long, hands on her hips guiding her away from the wall until the underside of her knees hit the edge of a cot. His mouth parts from hers once more, a sweet dragging of overlapped lips exchanged during the slow steps, so he can pull back the blanket. She looks over her shoulder at the neatly presented cot, which Stan must've brought with him along with his own fitted bedspread. She was now appreciative that he always came prepared.

Without having to be told, she crawled underneath the covers after ridding herself of the remainder of her clothing. Stan did the same once she was settled, becoming the final layer that draped over her body. The blanket and the crisp white of a top sheet stopped at the dimples of his back, and she was trapped in warmth, intensified by the glorious weight of his bare body on hers. Arms on either side of her head latch the cage as he leans down for another kiss.

"Don't mistake me keeping you warm as forgiveness. I'm still very mad at you. You drive me crazy," he sighs against her jaw, his eyelashes fluttering against the apple of her cheek.

"Don't mistake me moaning for you as an apology. You don't deserve one." Her strokes at the nape of his neck never faltered. Her thighs spread, legs winding around his, desperate for him to do something with his cock that laid twitching and swollen on her navel. "Well, you might if you fuck me hard enough."

"Shut up already."

Long fingers brick over her parted mouth in time with the repositioning of his hips, muffling the cries of consumption that came from him sinking inside of her. Eyes roll to the back of her head, almost completely sated by just the feeling of being filled. The head of his shaft glided against her most sensitive spot like a brush of shoulders, and her thighs tightening around his waist was her turning around, ready to chase shattering gratification.

Although slow, his thrusts into her were brutal. They held onto to each other like you would to ropes of a ruinous bridge connecting two cliffs, like they would be faced with a plummeting death if they were to let go. And yet, they were fighting along the wobbly planks, the semicircles of hip bones clashing together like medieval swords. It was all extremes, but neither of them would have it any other way.

He was making the most beautiful sounds above her. Through his ruthless motions, were breathy moans and whines of her name, the occasional praise intertwined into his enticing responses. Eventually, he allowed his hand to stop sealing her lips, sliding it down to clutch the flesh of her thigh with the promise of bruises. Her soft pleas and moans of euphoria joined his to create a symphony worthy of a ballet orchestra.

Strings of saliva conntected rouge lips to the marked skin of his neck, where she continued to suckle and playfully nip. The roll of their bodies picked up speed, both becoming impatient by the delicious ache they kept provoking, daring one another to spasm out of control. They craved for their muscles to become a tightrope and for the most intimate parts of them to pulsate from the finality of release.

"You've never looked prettier than you do right now. Your cunt squeezing me so tight, your mouth only able to form breathless whispers... completely wrecked. I love it."

"Please," she cannot help but beg, flickering eyes undecided on whether to shut her continue their hazy, half-lidded stare into his own.

"You want to come?" The inward pull of his eyebrows and the slight curl of his parted mouth way as well have been a mocking pout. "I know you do. I shouldn't even let you, though. You've been intolerable. I should just come all over your writhing body and leave you here without any satisfaction. Even if you were to finish yourself off, it wouldn't be enough. It would only feel subpar, and you know that, don't you?" His breath fans her face like the furnace had moments ago, and she can only whimper in reply. "Only I can sate you, sweetheart."

Her hands, whose nails had already inflicted damage to the freckled canvas of his back, sweep over his shoulders to cup his jaw. Her thumb strokes his jawline while the other ventures down the column of his throat, feeling the bob of his adam's apple with every constristing swallow he took. She could tell he was close, too, and decided to nod her head gently in agreement to his words, to wave her white flag.

Her surrender is reassured by fingertips dragging down her torso to her enlarged clit, granting bone-vanishing swipes that causes stuttered gasps and limbs going slack. It only takes a few seconds of coaxing rubbing for her release to erupt, the molten lava bursting from the pit of her stomach to electrify just about every nerve in her body. Her encompassing walls clutch around him so tightly that it summons a delirious climax from him.

His strenuous pace wavers, his hold on the cot becoming prudent, as if it was a buoy keeping him afloat through the thrashing waves of pleasure. White, sticky ribbons coat the inside of her thighs, and it's only when his heartbeat ebbs from his eardrums that he cracks his eyes open and collaspes into the small remaining space between her and the wall.

Stan speaks after catching his breath, remaining pants interwoven into his declaration. "This should've happened sooner."

"It would've if you weren't such a prick," she noted, sparing him a quick glance.

"Okay, maybe... I wasn't on my best behavior. But I was nervous. I liked you a lot. I wanted to impress you."

"And you thought bragging about how you're a know-it-all when it comes to plants and wildlife and the park's terrain was going to the trick?"She questioned, snorting at his logic. His nose twitch, an indicator of embarrassment, and she grabs his arm and tucks herself into his side. "You're such a dork."

He smiled at the gesture before she continued, "I'm sorry that I flirted with the bartender. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were second best or anything. Honest to God, I just wanted free stuff."

"Well, the cream puffs you got out of it were actually delicious," Stan admitted, tilting his head in her direction.

She smiled back at him. "I know, right?"

Stan may not be a prime example of a good guy but he had always took glory in being good at his job. That's what kept him going, that's what fueled him all these years. Now, he was considering what life entailed outside of that. Outside of the stressful responsibilities and government conspiracies and the never-ending studious tendencies. She came to him for refuge tonight, but, the truth is, he had been relying on her for a long time. To fascinate him, to stand up to him, to guide him back to where he belonged.

He felt like he was finally pursuing something that was more important than his duties here, than anything else he's ever experienced. He was an off-bound ship, cruising blind into the dead of the night, and she was a lighthouse, promising purpose and salvation from every bad thing that ever tried to sink him.

// idk who to tag but i think @sojournmichael @fckinsupreme & @instinctsxbaby might be interested (you’re all so talented)!

[seonghwanotes]

calm after the storm | jeong yunho

pairing: yunho x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i will slaughter any sasaengs, please fuck off thank u theyre my source of happiness, im wishing u hell and beyond if u even think of fucking their lives up

Half past twelve. The clock was ticking every single second as you waited for your lover to return but he didn't reach home yet. Usually you wouldn't mind but after receiving a call from Mingi, whom you rarely spoke to, you were about to leave to pick him up.

"Y/N, no! Don't go to him… he told us to not tell you but I had to because I know he didn't make this decision with a straight mind. Just wait for him to come home and talk to him."

Knowing that it wasn't Yunho to behave this way, you waited for him to come home even though you were worried and scared that he would not return anytime sooner. But when you heard the sound of your door's keypad beeping, your heart was at ease to see him home safe and sound.

Yet, you couldn't help but ask him, “It’s midnight, where the hell were you?”

Yunho took off his shoes and walked inside your home, ignoring your question before he went upstairs, heading to your room. His silence made your blood boil but you didn’t stop there as you walked to your shared room, looking at him.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” You asked in a calmer tone, hoping he would answer.

He sighed and did not answer you. He dropped his head and remained silent. It was obvious that he was drunk and usually, you would have let it slide and tucked him into bed but after hearing what Hongjoong had told you, you knew you had to do something about it before he regretted anything the next morning.

"Yunho, I'm talking to you."

“I had my phone on silent.” He mumbled, his hand moved to his head and he massaged his temples. Your heart dropped to see him this weak and fragile, you wished that you could have helped him out before if you knew what was going on but it was too late for that.

“Stop keeping your phone in silent, you got me worried!” Your voice cracked, tears started to well up into your eyes. He looked up where his eyes shot daggers at you, “It’s my phone, I think I can do whatever I want with it. Can we just not talk about this now?”

Before you could utter another word, Yunho got up and walked past you as he headed towards the bathroom. You turned around and grabbed a hold of his wrist in a soft manner making him stop and look at you, “Did you tell Hongjoong you're going to leave the group?”

The look of fury left his face the moment the words left your mouth. He froze in his spot and you looked at him, hoping for an answer in return. "I… who told you that?"

"Yunho, is it true?" You asked, looking at the taller boy. His tired eyes gave away the truth as he couldn't give an answer and pushed your hand away.

His face was pale, the eyebags underneath his eyes were evident, his lips were dry and chapped, while he reeked of alcohol. It hurt you to see him this way, which made a tear roll down your cheek.

Yunho was never a heavy drinker but these past few weeks, he had been drinking a lot and he was drifting away from you and he never spoke to you unless you initiated the conversation first. You always thought he was stressed due to work so you wouldn't ask him a lot of questions but maybe that was the first mistake you made in your relationship, causing him to decline in this manner.

"Did you think about it?" You asked, not breaking eye contact with him, hoping he would talk to about it. He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, "Yes, I don't want to do this anymore."

"But why? You're only proving them right by letting the hate get to you. You're only letting the girl enjoy what she wants by leaving the group." You told him.

"Can you please go away?" His words slapped you across the face, making you flinch at his high tone. There wouldn't be any good outcome if you insisted on fixing things so you left him alone in your room and went to your living room.

•••

You ended up falling asleep on the couch for a few hours before you woke up and saw yourself covered with a blanket and your head was supported with a throw pillow. You searched around for your phone until you realised your hand was being held by someone.

Panicking, you got up abruptly and tried to pull your hand away but a sleepy Yunho got up and didn't let go of your hand.

"No… Stay with me Y/N… Don't leave me too…" He mumbled, head dropping on the couch before he dozed off again.

Your heart ached at the sight of Yunho being like this, not capable of helping himself when he always gave a helping hand to others. You looked at his tired form and you started weeping, the earlier events coming to your memory.

"The hate got out of hand and the management said they would handle it but Yunho didn't want to cause them anymore trouble."

"Did the management sue them for defamation?" You asked, still in disbelief that an anti would go this far to ruin one's life.

You've seen this happen to other idols and hate was definitely a common thing artists face when they're in the entertainment industry, but the boys always handled it well and never gave it a second glance. Everyone has their breaking point but the boys were extremely patient with all the bullshit thrown at them.

"We were going to… then Yunho said he wants to leave the group. Then he just left the building and drove off. I'm sorry to call you this late, Y/N. I don't think he would tell you what happened." Yeosang added, after Mingi spoke.

Yunho must have heard you crying cause he got up and rubbed his eyes, looking at you in confusion. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You sniffled, wiping your tears away as you looked at him in the dark. His eyes were puffy and swollen, making you cry more. His large hand moved to your face and wiped the tears away, before he sat beside you and pulled you into a hug which you didn’t hesitate hugging him back.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” He asked in a small voice, making you look at him.

“What? Why would I leave you?”

“Because I left everything and everyone I love, you’re the only one I have left.” He croaked out, innocence coating his words. You shook your head and hugged him once again, rubbing his back with your petite hands.

“You still have time. You don’t have to let go of everything and everyone you love because of someone’s jealousy towards your happiness in life.” You told him, earning a sigh from him. “This isn’t just your career, Yunho, it’s your passion and your dream that you’ve worked for. Don’t let it go because of one’s negative vibes.”

“Do you think they’ll still accept me if I went back?” He asked, resting his face in the crook of your neck. You hummed in agreement, “KQ can’t let go of their lucky guy, you know.”

Hearing Yunho’s giggle made you feel a tad bit better. You held him for a few minutes, embracing the silent shared between you two before he spoke up. “I’m so, so sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“Just… talk to me if something is wrong, okay? I’m always here for you and we can talk it out and figure something out,” You breathed, resting your chin on his broad shoulder.

“Okay.” Yunho said, pulling away from the hug. He took your hands into his and held it, giving out warmth to your body as you shuddered from the cold temperature in the living room. “I think I’m going to take a break before I continue on with the group activities, I’m going to need time.”

You nodded, happy that he was willing to take time off instead of leaving the group full time. “Okay, we can let your manager know tomorrow. Should we head to bed now? It’s so chilly here.”

He chuckled, giving you a soft smile before he took you by surprise when he closed the gap between the two of you with a quick, chaste kiss. When he pulled away, you looked at him with a clear question mark plastered on your face.

“What? I missed doing that to you.”

“Doing what?” Your voice came out smaller than you expected it to.

“This.” He said, before leaning in again for a full kiss, sweeping you off into dreamland with the taste of his bittersweet lips. You kissed him back, hoping to be in the moment for a little bit longer but Yunho pulled away. You tutted at his action whereas he smiled back at you.

“Maybe this break will do me more than just good. It feels great to be like this.” He muttered, making you wonder.

“Be like this?”

Although there was almost no light visible in the living room, you could have sworn that you saw his eyes twinkle as he looked at you and answered, “Just you and me; that’s all I want.”

[unbridgeabledistances]

hi 💜💜 i got a prompt about ian x body image a while ago (my inbox is a hot mess and i may have deleted the prompt lol, but i did paste it into my phone notes)- and i was feeling some feelings today & had some spare time amidst my travels & ended up writing this!!

prompt: can you write about ian and his relationship with his body image, esp post-canon when they move to the westside

(tw for body image/eating disorder/food mentions)

--

He didn’t really even think about it the first times that he did it— skipping a few meals that went unnoticed in the morning clamor of the Gallagher kitchen. He noticed his skin growing tauter and tighter around his abdomen with every passing day, a hollow absence sitting like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

He did it for a reason—he’d been getting more lingering looks under the flashing lights at the club, more unwelcome fingers pressed against the now-present ridges on his stomach, tracing his toned upper arms. The less there was of him, the more they wanted him.

The thing about Ian is that he was always disciplined; the middle child, the one who was overlooked and ignored and blended in until he decided that he had to make a name for himself. He and Lip and gotten into hair-tugging, jaw-smashing fights about this very reality; Ian was completely, totally, absolutely ordinary. Until he made himself extraordinary—until he burst through the storefront labeled “ARMY” at a strip mall with smudged windows and said with a tall chest: I want to enlist.

Everything had led up to this— every push-up on the creaking slanted floor of their childhood bedroom, every jog at the crack of dawn. He was going to make something of himself, he was going to be a hero.

He was going to get the fuck away from Mickey, and his wife, and whatever else kept pushing him down and holding him back.

When Ian came back from the army, when he was sleeping on exposed floorboards and working at the club all night—that was when it all actually started. When he decided that less of him meant more—when he decided that he should give people the best show he could, because everything else was fucked up anyways. This was all he was good for.

But then Mickey came through the door, pale skin flashing in the strobe lights, wearing that fucking dark button-up with sleeves folded to his forearms and smelling like nice cologne that he’d almost definitely stolen from one of his brothers’ bathroom shelves; and for a brief moment after the initial shock set in, Ian was proud— proud of how much negative space surrounded him, proud of how he could press his thighs into stretched golden spandex better than any of the other men thrumming to the beat beside him on the podium. Proud of how much other people wanted him, when Mickey didn't.

It was only later, after Mickey carried him home (easily, too easily) after he’d passed out in a snowbank, and Ian had woken and waited for Mickey to burst into his bedroom door at the Gallagher house while he leaned against the wall and scribbled on a notepad— later, when Mickey was about to curl on the floor and sleep using one of Liam’s balled-up t-shirts as a pillow— that Ian noticed Mickey’s eyes lingering on his uncovered torso, a second longer than the quick glances of admiration from the well-dressed men with greased-back hair and grubby fingers at the club. It hit Ian, then, when he saw Mickey’s gaze that was soft around the edges, the same fuzziness and confusion of Fiona’s stares when he would chatter on for too long in the mornings:

He’s worried about me.

But Mickey played along— Ian was back, and Mickey stayed beside him this time, and chuckled when he walked down the stairs to the sight of Ian cutting off the bottom half of his old ROTC pants, now multiple sizes too big and hanging baggy even at the hips. Mickey curled beside him on the twin bed, silently stroking hair back from his forehead and cradling his cheeks with a feather-light touch as Lip and Liam’s even, sleeping breaths swirled around them. And Ian kept doing pull-ups, and told Carl that he liked the way that Mickey smelled. Mickey came out for him. And for a while things were really, really fucking good, and Ian didn’t even think about the gnawing hollow feeling in his stomach at all any more.

Until a grey morning came, quick and silent, and kept him frozen under the sheets for days.

In the months afterwards, Ian trained harder, faster—he met up with Fiona as she pushed Liam in the stroller and jogged beside them, ran before and after shifts at the club, did push-ups on Mickey’s grimy floor while he was out handling Rub N’ Tug shit.

I’m not Monica. This wasn’t going to happen again. His body could do this. His body could fix his brain.

It couldn’t.

Most of what happened on the “road trip” with Yevgeny (that was the only phrasing that Ian could really mentally use to name the incident, the only semiotic filler for “kidnapping” that didn’t want to make him burrow even deeper under his tattered blankets) was a blur—Mickey feeding him fistfuls of pills and room-temperature Gatorade, luring Mickey to the dugouts where he tried to do a pull-up and felt a quivering in his limbs, a weakness rather than a familiar and fulfilling burn. Slamming Mickey in the face with a fist that was too flimsy, too weak—a fist that still left the blooming of a bruise on Mickey’s jawline, a splatter of blood caking into his eyebrow. But still weak, still not enough. Definitely not strong enough to fight off two MPs with loaded guns, tangling his hands behind his back and forcing him into the backseat of a car.

More blurry days— on the road with Monica. Breaking up with Mickey. Getting a job at Patsy’s. Withering away, purple bags sagging under his eyes. Becoming less, always less.

Then, a glimmer of light— he met Caleb. He studied to be an EMT. He got a call from Mandy, got to wrap her in his arms in less-than-ideal circumstances.

“I got tired of starving myself to fit in that golden thong.”

It was the first time he’d said it out loud.

He started to run again—and he started to not miss it, the hollow feeling gnawing at his insides, the twisting lack. He met Trevor, he went to brunches, he ordered mimosas and muffins and kept himself in shape, but didn’t push himself too far.

So it surprised him, really, when once again his body and mind weren’t in sync.

That was the biggest thing he’d think about, in the idle hours of he and Mickey’s prison cell, months later—that for once in his life, years after the nights at the club or the hazy early mornings at Patsy’s or in a baggy janitor uniform, he was actually doing really, really fucking good. He had a following. He was strong. Or at least he thought he was.

But something about being near Mickey pulled him out of his head and into his body, centered him— it always did. Mickey had always liked his body; Ian remembered how Mickey’s eyed at lingered that night at the dugouts, when they were two kids doing pull-ups and Mickey watched his muscles clench in the moonlight, two sets of shining eyes and bodies warm with beer leaning closer to each other in the muggy air. But Ian never felt a need to flaunt his body, or change his body, for Mickey— and in so many ways, those first days in prison were like his body was coming home. Sometimes it was hard, and fast, and filthy words whispered into each other’s skin—and sometimes it left them grasping for breath in an entirely different way, in fingertips lazily skimming over collarbones and fisted into roots of hair, of breathed “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful”s escaping Mickey’s parted mouth that Ian mentally stored but never brought up again, because he knew in the best case scenario Mickey would just roll his eyes and call him a “soft bitch,” and in the worst he would just flat-out deny it. But Ian felt balanced in a way he hadn't in months, with all the "Gay Jesus" bullshit pressing in. He took his meds, he did his nightly sit-ups, he counted down the days—until the hourglass was slipped out from under his fingertips and he was teleported back to the Gallagher house, back to the place where so much of this began and so much was about to end.

The hollowness, the hunger, didn’t really need to be there anymore once he was out— it was only a dull murmur. A ghost, a memory trapped in dreams of strobe lights and prying hands.

Mickey got out, and they got married—and in the moments before Ian called Mickey an “ugly motherfucker” as he let a smile crack onto his face—and he knew Mickey felt it, knew Mickey heard: I have never known anyone as beautiful as you.

And Ian’s fullness just kept blooming and compounding and radiating after the wedding; they fought, and then they didn’t, and it didn’t matter anyways because they were fucking married. Ian kept doing sit-ups before they went to bed, even though he felt like he didn’t really have to anymore. Something big had shifted; something had settled and given way, had filled in all the cracks.

So he’s surprised, when they move to the West Side, and that feeling starts to stir again; faint, fuzzy, like some sort of invasive and shapeless amoeba in the dark corners of his brain, whispering and hissing that there should be less of him. On their first morning in the new place he heads to the gym, wearing a camo t-shit that covered his torso and shoulders—and of course he ends up making a fool of himself next to some guy, some guy that he could have been, with sweaty toned abs and bronzed skin and rippling muscles. He doesn’t know why it gets to him, that small interaction—he’s so much happier now, so fucking happy he’s buzzing with it, but there’s also something churning in the faultlines of transition; that aching for hollow absence and stretched skin and interested eyes, that feeling that made him woozy and lightheaded as a kid but also sickeningly proud, like every moment of standing tall, of dancing, of staying alive was a statement, a challenge, a test of how much he could push his ability to be desired.

He immediately pushes the thought down. He doesn’t fucking need that anymore to keep his head above water; he’s stable, he’s loved, he’s fed. He’s growing organic tomatoes, and definitely developing a farmer’s tan from his days hunched over their way-too-tiny community garden plot tenderly watering and pruning the vines and brambles. He is desired. So it doesn’t make fucking sense that the hunger, the clawing in his stomach for the absence, doesn’t really stop.

**

“Okay Gallagher, spill.”

Ian felt his eyebrow raise instinctively at Mickey’s tone. “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at this fancy fucking chicken thing you made for, like, twenty minutes. Stop staring at it and eat your goddamn dinner.”

He felt a twist in his gut. I don’t want to.

“M’actually not really that hungry.”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “The fuck’s up? You stressed about work shit?”

Ian huffed out a breath of relief. “Nah. It’s not that.” He fiddled with his fork on the plate, drawing lines into the sauce pooled under the tomato-basil chicken he’d made. It was healthy, it was good, he’d worked out today; he could stomach a couple bites of dinner if he fucking had to. He just had to work up to it. Even the smell was making his stomach twist— it had smelled good while he was cooking it, placing fresh-scented basil leaves into the simmering sauce, but now it just was too much.

Mickey’s boot nudged against his calf from under the kitchen island. “Ey. Is it a tired thing? Or a… sick thing?” His eyes darted to their kitchen cupboard, where Ian kept his meds on the bottom shelf by the water glasses. “Or, like, a food thing?”

Ian felt his fingers go slack around his fork. “A food thing?”

“Yeah, man, y’know. When you get all weird about food.”

A tightness in his chest. “What the fuck? I don’t get weird about food.”

Mickey’s eyes flickered to meet his—and Ian would have gotten more pissed off if he didn’t see the soft concern bleeding into Mickey’s gaze, how cautiously Mickey was trying to broach the topic. Ian blew out a breath. Of fucking course Mickey noticed this shit— he always did.

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re usually good, especially compared to when you were fucking starving yourself when we were kids. But, uh… I don’t know.” Now it was Mickey’s turn to play with his food, scraping his fork along the remnants of sauce on his plate that was nearly clean. “You got kind of weird about working out and shit in prison. And then at the house, with all the quarantine bullshit the first few weeks. Eating fuckin’ cereal all the time, then not eating at all. You’ve been normal since then, or whatever. Lookin’ healthy.” Ian felt Mickey’s gaze drag over him. “Just don’t want you getting stressed out and not eating again or whatever.”

Ian felt a muted warmth blooming in the hollow of his stomach, filling in the cracks of where the jagged feeling continued to claw. If it was anyone else laying out this fucking analysis of his habits Ian would’ve gotten defensive—or at the very least annoyed, that someone was pinning down yet another one of his behaviors, putting them under a fucking clinical microscope.

But of course, this was Mickey— and the difference with Mickey was that he cared, he cared so much that it made Ian’s body ache every time he realized it. Those words wouldn’t have come tumbling out of Mickey’s mouth if they hadn’t been building for a while, hadn’t been gnawing away at some corner of his mind over time.

Ian raised a hand over the table to clasp into Mickey’s warm palm—reaching over the empty plate, the plate of uneaten food.

“It’s, uh. A food thing.”

Mickey’s eyes met his—open, listening.

“You’re right about all the starving myself shit from forever ago. And the not eating. And the… quarantine stuff. I guess I just thought that now that things were good, it’d go away? And I feel so fucking good right now. But sometimes I just have weird days.”

Mickey huffed out a breath. “I fucking know you do, dumbass. M’just saying that I notice that shit. And we can figure it out.”

Ian felt the corner of his mouth tick upwards. “I really thought it was gonna go away. I’m a fucking adult.”

Mickey shrugged. “Sometimes shit doesn’t work like that, Gallagher.” He chugged a sip of water from his glass, apparently glad that this heavier part of the conversation was over now that he knew what was up. “It’s like what you tell me about my shit with Terry. Trauma doesn’t just magically fucking disappear.”

Trauma. He’d never really thought about it like that before—he had plenty of childhood shit to work through, between abandonment and raging mental illness; and he’d never really thought that his body image issues made the list.

But maybe they did— maybe this was another wound, one that he could learn to heal.

Mickey kicked his shin under the table. “There’s cereal and stuff in the cabinet, I got the Fruit Loops shit you like. Want me to wrap up the chicken and shove it in the fridge?”

All he could do was nod— and once again feel that warmth on his insides that Mickey was this good, that he knew how to make shit like this easier.

And he snuggled into the couch beside his husband, a bowl of soggy cereal in his hands.

[chaoticminhos]

chained

pairing: seo changbin x reader

genre: smut, halloween !!

warnings: home invasion

word count: 2.7k

a/n: happy halloween my babies!!! enjoy sex demon changbin :)

summary: bombarded with chain messages the night before halloween, y/n expects nothing but her friends being stupid, or maybe some practical joke. what she didn’t expect, however, was for the message to play up to its threats, landing her with a surprise visitor.

you rolled your eyes as the message flashed across your screen for the nth time in just that day alone. nearly a dozen of your friends, and even some people that you wouldn’t call more than an acquaintance, had forwarded the same long, obviously bullshit chain message to you.

“the veil will be thin this halloween. send this message to 10 of your friends to lock in your safety. if you ignore, something bad will happen halloween night.”

it was the same type of shit that got thrown around in middle school and the fact that people still believed these cheesy things was really diminishing your confidence in your college for letting them in.

completely ignoring the message jisung had sent before the chain message asking if you were going to a halloween party the next day, you clicked off your phone. if he made you deal with stupid messages, he could deal with being left on read.

you made your way to your bathroom, setting your phone on the sink and ridding yourself of your clothes. you stepped into the shower, wincing at the cold. curse the cheap apartment for never having enough hot water, but it’s all you could afford.

despite the water being less than warm, you took your time. living in the situation you did, you actually sort of got used to the cold showers, and even liked them sometimes. of course you still wished it wasn’t temperature roulette whenever you needed to take a shower, but at least cold showers weren’t the most terrible things in the world.

eventually, though, your toes started to stiffen and the cold became unbearable. maybe the water heater was more busted than usual or maybe you were just in a cold spell, but either way, you could only handle so much of the ice cold water. even when you semi-enjoy them, a cold shower is only soothing for so long.

you stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel securely around yourself, wrapping your hair in another to dry.

just as you bent down to pick up your dirty clothes from the floor, your phone buzzed on the ceramic of the bathroom counter. you reached for it, pressing the clothes from the floor against your body to hold the towel up with the other arm. unsurprisingly for it being nearly the middle of the night, the name on your phone read jisung, jisung, jisung. no one else was usually up this late on school nights, and when they were, they weren’t texting you. unless it was jisung. as your best friend, he took it as his personal duty to keep you from getting a healthy night of sleep, ever.

you unlocked your phone and went to messages, where you had 5 unread messages from jisung just since you’d been in the shower. clingy, as always.

upon opening the chat, you were met with 5 more messages matching the chain message he’d already sent you. as you were typing a reply and telling him to stop being annoying, another message came through. same person, same words.

with a huff, you deleted the start of the grumpy message you’d been forming and decided you’d stick with leaving him on read. he would get bored eventually. or so you thought.

nearly half an hour passed and you were still getting regular messages from jisung, all the same exact thing, copy and paste. you’d resorted to silencing your phone to avoid the constant vibrations signaling a message, but they kept coming. by now you had well over 30 of the same text from jisung, and you were getting fed up with it.

seeing that ignoring him obviously wasn’t doing what you’d hoped, you wrote a message and hit send.

can you not be a pain in my ass for literally two seconds?

you watched as the message tried to send, only to be stopped by a red error mark.

“message could not be sent. check your network and try again.”

great, so not only were the showers freakishly cold, the wifi decided to play favorites as well, working enough to deliver jisung’s messages to your phone but not allowing you to reply.

you took a deep breath as you sunk into the couch you were sitting on, willing yourself not to explode. your phone lit up in your hand with another message, jisung, of course, and you caught a glimpse of the time on your screen. it only made your bad mood worsen.

it was 10 past midnight, making it officially halloween, and instead of being happy as you should on your favorite holiday, you were busy trying not to walk straight to jisung’s dorm and strangle the ever living fuck out of him.

your phone screen dimmed and shut off. you took a deep breath and decided to follow suit, lifting yourself from the couch and making your way to your bedroom. maybe you just needed some sleep. maybe it was just as funny as jisung seemed to think it was to be spamming you like a middle school girl and you just couldn’t see that through your sleepy grumpiness.

you let your shoulder hit the door, gently pushing it open as you stepped into your bedroom. not bothering to turn a light on, you tripped over something, probably a pile of clothes, arms flinging out to your bed to catch yourself, only you didn’t come in contact with the soft fuzzy feeling of your favorite blanket. instead, your frantic hands were met with another pair on arms. a stronger, really steady, definitely-not-your-roommates-because-you-didn’t-have-one pair of arms, so who the fuck was sitting on your bed?

a scream erupted from your throat before you even had time to process the current situation. you immediately put distance between yourself and the intruder, tripping backwards over the same pile of whatever you had stumbled over in the first place. you fell backwards, luckily not close enough to the wall to have hit your head, and shuffled until your back was flush with the wall.

you watched in shock as the shadow of whoever the fuck had broken into your apartment leaned across the bed and to the table you had beside it, turning the knob on your reading lamp until the room filled with light.

he leaned back into his original position, the only difference from before being that how you could see him. he didn’t look like what you’d have imagined someone breaking into a young girls apartment to look like. he was sporting a bright white t-shirt and black sweats, his hair brushed out of his face. not really the best outfit for someone to avoid detection in.

unless he didn’t want to avoid detection because it didn’t matter if you saw him because he was going to kill you and it didn’t matter if you’d seen his face because you’d be dead and... oh fuck.

the words that left your mouth would have made you cringe at how cliche they sounded if you hadn’t been in fear for your life.

“w-who are you?”

you’d expected anything other than the reaction he had. he cocked his head, a small pout forming on his lips.

“think.”

your jaw moved and you tried to get something coherent to form, but nothing came out.

he chuckled at your reaction, keeping the pout on his lips as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands intertwined in between them.

“it’s been, what,” he glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, “five minutes since the last message and you’ve already forgot?”

your guard fell a little as the confusion of his words set in.

“what messages?”

he rolled his eyes, moving his arms behind him to support his body as he leaned back, and began reciting the message you’d been receiving nonstop for the entire night.

“the veil will be thin this halloween. send this message to 10 of your friends to lock in your safety. if you ignore, something bad will happen halloween night.”

you blinked at him, “i still don’t understand.”

he stood from your bed and began towards you. you knew that you should run, hit him, make a grab for your phone, anything, but you were frozen. you watched with wide eyes as he crouched down right in front of you, his knees touching yours, which were pulled up against your chest.

“it says something bad would happen.” he raised his hand for you to shake, “so hello, i’m something bad.”

when you didn’t take it, he sighed and let his hand fall to rest on your leg. your eyes snapped to his hand on your knee.

“of course,” he let his hand slide down from your knee and onto your thigh, “i don’t have to be a bad thing.”

your head was clouded and the only processable thought going through it was how warm his hand felt against your thigh. you knew that logically you should have done anything to get him to stop touching you, he was a fucking home intruder for gods sake, but you honestly didn’t want to. every moment he was near you, you felt the initial fear in your body melt into wanting.

he cocked his head, “i won’t even hurt you.” he raised an eyebrow, “unless you want me to.”

his eyes trailed up from his hand on your thigh and across your torso until he locked his gaze with yours. a smirk grew on his lips at how compliant you were being. he raised his free hand to your other leg and gently pushed your legs from against your body until he could fit himself in between them, leaning forward so his lips were only inches from yours.

if he’d doubted for any second that you didn’t want him, the way your legs trapped him close to you and your eyes were locked to his lips wiped it all away.

surprising him, you were the one to close the gap between you two, pressing your lips roughly to his.

he hummed into the kiss, bringing a hand up to cup your face while the other remained rested on your thigh.

he took your bottom lip between his teeth and you greedily accepted his request, letting him deepen the kiss. it only lasted a moment before he broke it off, grabbing your arms and helping you stand. he gestured towards the bed, and you me legs took you there before you could even really process what he was asking.

you sat on the edge of the bed patiently, eyes locked to his back as he pulled his shirt over his head. as much as you could have stated at his muscular back for ages, a rush went through you when he turned around. you let him lean down and gently kiss you before manhandling you until you were laying on your back in the middle of the bed.

you gladly opened your legs and let him place himself between them, crawling over you and reconnecting your lips once again. one arm kept him stable above you as the other trailed its way down your body, sneaking under your shirt and up your back to unclip your bra. you whined as he took his lips off from yours to lift you up and pull your shirt and bra over your shoulders, but he quieted you with his lips back on yours as soon as the clothing was out of the way.

a soft moan passed your lips as he trailed wet kisses down your jaw and to your neck, softly nipping at the sensitive skin. he continued his path down your body and to your chest, taking your nipple in his lips while his other hand came up to tease the other. you’d never been someone who got very worked up from having your nipples touched, but something about the way changbin did literally anything to you made you squirm. he continued to trail kisses along your stomach until he reached the waistband of your pants, his hand leaving your chest to hook around the waistband. you lifted your hips and he easily slid your pants and underwear to your feet where you kicked them off, leaving you completely nude under him.

he bit his lip as he scanned your naked body, completely on display for him. the fact that he’d managed to get you on this position for him just minutes after introducing himself to you made him throb in his jeans. he knew you’d give in to him eventually, it wasn’t possible for a human to deny his aura, but you’d given in right away. maybe you’d have given in to him even if he didn’t have a seductive aura, and the thought of you being attracted to him for reasons other than the fact that everyone was turned him on beyond belief.

he could have sat there between your legs and admired you for the entire night, but the impatient whine that left your mouth told him you wouldn’t be too happy with that idea. instead, he leaned back on his heels and undid his pants, pulling them down enough to finally release himself from the constraints of his underwear.

there really wasn’t an aspect of this man that wasn’t perfect, it seemed. he gave himself a few slow strokes, groaning at the long awaited stimulation. his hands returned to your hips and drifted towards your heat only to be stopped by your hand grabbing his wrist.

“i don’t need prep, just please fuck me.”

he caught a groan in his throat and replaced it with words, “say that again.”

you hooked your legs around him and pulled him close to you, close enough to make the head of his cock brush gently against your wetness.

“fuck me, changbin. i need you.”

how was it that he, the sex demon, seemed to be under a trance by you, a mere human? he didn’t question it, just immediately listening to you and lining himself up with your entrance, slowly sinking in.

you tried to keep your eyes open, you wanted to watch the pretty faces he was making as he sunk into you. you succeeded for a while, but when he gave the first harsh thrust, hitting you right in the sweet spot on his first try, you couldn’t help but screw your eyes shut and let out a borderline scream of pleasure. he was doing you so well, you thought maybe he was made for this.

it honestly surprised you how long you lasted with every single move of his hips being aimed at the exact correct spot. with a few particular violent rolls of his hips and his expert hands on your clit, you had the most overwhelming orgasm you’d ever experienced. you caged your legs around him, moaning a mantra of curses and his name. you felt him full you up and you could have swore that the feeling mixed with the unholy noises he let out could have made you cum again just from that if he hadn’t worn you out so hard from just one round.

he gently pulled out if you, cooing at you while you whined at the overstimulation. he fell down on the bed next to you and turned to face you.

“i made a good choice.”

you cocked an eyebrow, “what? breaking into my house and seducing me?”

he chuckled, “i didn’t break in. you let me in when you didn’t answer a single message i sent you.”

“that’s not even good logic.”

he shrugged, moving the bed a bit. “it’s clear in the rules i wrote.”

“yeah, okay.” you gave him a skeptical look. “how did you even get jisung in on this? he usually prefers to terrorize me alone.”

“didn’t need him to know about it. i don’t think his phone even registered the texts. they’re only on your end, if i did it correctly.”

you raised an eyebrow, “you some kind of hacker?”

he smiled, looking over at the bedside lamp and turning it off without ever touching it, not that you noticed.

“something like that.”

[the-silentium]

A story of shirts

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 -  The survivor - Part 4 - Epilogue

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader, Hunter x Reader, Crosshair x Reader

Words: 2774 words

Warnings: TESTOSTERONE.

A/N: Reader’s native language is *roll drum* French! Really original, I know! Translations will be at the end of the chapter ~

Taglist: @haloangel391​

"You gonna eat that?" Wrecker asked from your right, his chubby pointer finger signaling to your half-eaten piece of bread. 

"Yeah." You confirmed, taking more of the ration pack, reaching for the bread to illustrate. 

"Too bad." He stole the piece before you got a hold of it, hurrying to stuff it in his mouth as soon as you reached forward to take it back. 

"Wreck! It was mine!" You whined, hitting his shoulder multiple times in retaliation. 

"Cut it out." Hunter called from his spot on the other side of the fire, shooting the both of you an unimpressed glance over his water canteen. 

"But he-!" You cut yourself, not wanting to pout like a baby, instead taking a deep breath in and planning your revenge like a petulant child. 

You've been with the Batchers for a good year, flying them around different systems, perfecting your flying skills as well as developing some basic medical ones to help them when needed. 

So far, no one from the GAR noticed that you were a fraud among the army, letting you enough time to read about the GAR and become more familiar with the whole system and chain of command. You had now all the knowledge necessary to keep the lie going without a hitch. Hell, even Cody never connected the dots. 

Over time the relationships between you and each of the boys improved to the point where Wrecker would call you his vod'ika and you'd call him your frangin. 

Tech exploited his extended knowledge to gain a serious advantage over his brothers once a month. He would generously share his secret stash of candies with you whenever the first day of your period started (you were sure he did that to stay in your good favors and keep your irritation away from himself - which was working, fortunately for him). 

Crosshair would share some of his precious secrets blackmails so you could use them when the others were being annoying shits and kindly taught you how to properly shoot with blasters so you could defend yourself better.

Hunter used you as his personal enhanced senses painkiller, meaning that he'd requisition you for an hour when his head felt like it was on the verge of exploding from overstimulation, sit on the floor facing you, lean his head on your chest and listen to you singing a soft lullaby in your native tongue. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Wrecker getting up from his seat on the ground beside you to get to the ship, passing right behind you to get to his destination. Swiftly, you straightened your hand, turned around and pushed the back of his knee forward to bend it with ease. 

Smirking, you admired your handy work when Wrecker yelped in surprise that his knee just gave up underneath him and crashed to the ground. 

You laughed wholeheartedly, covering Crosshair's snickers who watched you the whole time because he knew you'd serve his brother a good payback for taking your precious food. 

"You want to fight vod'ika?" Wrecker asked jokingly from his kneeled position a few feet away. 

"Bring it on frangin!" You replied, pushing your dry rations down your throat with a big gulp of water. That was something else that took some time to get used to. Tasteless water meant good water. Don't spit the good water. 

"Here we go again." Sighed Tech, rolling his eyes at banter. 

"Don't be a grinch, Tech. That's Crosshair's role." You flicked his shoulder and ignored Cross glare to get up and meet the big man who instantly went to poke your side. 

He'd learned his lesson a while ago when he punched your shoulder playfully and let you a gigantic bruise on your skin that lasted for weeks. Hunter genuinely thought that he'd hit you hard (he did, but Wrecker was excited, so you weren't mad) leading to the 'no hitting your teammates' rule. Wrecker felt bad for a while but soon you got him to cheer up and instead of fake fights, you'd do poking fights. 

Jumping to the side, you moved your foot behind his knee to repeat your previous trick, effectively making him fall on one knee and pushed him on his back with all your strength. 

As soon as he was on his back you poked his stomach, not too hard to make him sick, he just ate after all, but enough to mark your point. 

"That's for my bread!" You laughed, dodging his hands trying to grasp yours to stop you from assaulting his abdomen. 

He finally got a grab of your wrists, joined them in one of his hands and attacked your sides with his free hand, poking to the right places to have you yelp and trash around. 

"Stop! Stop!" You shrieked, pulling on your arms to free them. 

"As you wish." He grinned, opening his hand when you pulled with all your might, your elbows hitting your own abdomen and emptying your lungs from their precious air. 

You groaned for a few seconds, recovering from the blow sprawled over Wrecker's chest unceremoniously. His laugh resonated through your body, the vibrations shaking your bones and making your teeth clash together. 

"Still wanna fight?" He teased, head lifted from the ground to meet your unimpressed gaze. 

"Enough for tonight." Hunter cut you off as you opened your mouth to sass him back. 

Closing your mouth without another word, you rolled your eyes and got to your feet, following Wrecker inside the ship to retrieve an extra layer to keep you comfortable under the stars. 

You walked past Wrecker who stopped at the fresher, to enter the barracks to rummage under your pillow for Hunter's top blacks he threw at you the night prior. 

He noticed that you often stole his blacks whenever you felt cold at night in the ship, sliding under the fabric only when you thought they were asleep. You always made sure to replace it before he woke up, always neatly folded like it never left. But he knew. Your scent lingered on the fabric, a fact you forgot to think about, not that he minded. After a couple of times, he started to simply throw the blacks at your face before laying down on his bed. He knew you never got used to the cold of space, your skin remembering the constant warmth of the jungle, letting you vulnerable to any change of temperature. 

You slipped the blacks over your head, the fabric covering your three-quarter sleeve shirt without a hitch and offering you the extra warmth needed for you to be able to find sleep instead of chattering teeth for the whole night. 

Now ready to go out and bury yourself under your blanket near the fire, you walked out with a pep in your step, eager to lay down and relax for the remaining hours before a new assignment arrived and forced you all away on some dangerous mission. 

"Acceptin' the markin'?" Wrecker appeared from the fresher, wiping his hands on his pants. 

"What?" You stopped, confused at his question. Did you have ink on your face or something? 

"He means this." Crosshair answered for his brother, walking further into the ship to pinch the shoulder of the blacks on his way to his bunk where he retrieved an extra blanket for himself. 

"What about it?" 

"You're only wearin' Hunter's." He remarked, toothpick dancing between his lips. 

"Wrecker's are way too big and you'd strangle me with the sleeves if I took yours." You pointed out, a hand moving to your hip. What was his point?

"Why not Tech's?" He approached closer, clearly trying to intimidate you. It may have worked in the beginning but this era was long gone. 

"Last time I did he started hiding them so I wouldn't do it again. What is this about?" The two of them shared a look and you knew they had information you didn't, and the mere idea of it made your heart speed up a bit. 

"It wasn't Tech who hid them." Crosshair faced you again, his arms crossing at his chest, the blanket folded over one of his arms. "It was Hunter." 

It took you seconds to connect the dot and make sense of everything. Hunter started throwing you his blacks the night after you borrowed Tech's and after that, you couldn't find his anywhere again. You'd accepted the gesture and never questioned it afterward, simply thinking that he cared about your sleeping habits or something. 

He did care. But for a totally different reason. 

"He's jealous." You whispered, eyes widening to Crosshair's delight. 

At the back of your mind, a part of you was melting, the sergeant's possessiveness flattering you to no end, although another part of you found it was stupid to be jealous of his brother. You noted to talk to him about that later, but you were sure that the subject would arise rather sooner than later if the mischievous glint in the sniper's eyes was anything to go by. 

"He is. So you'll wear this instead." He took a top of his blacks from within the blanket and shoved it onto your chest until you picked it up. 

"Your blacks? Wait. Are you angry at him or somethin'?" You eyed the fabric in your hands, rolling the hem between your fingers. This wasn't a good idea. There were ulterior motives to his actions. Always. 

"Just wanna see him boilin'." He replied, rolling his head on the side a bit. 

"You wanna call him on his bullshit." You pointed out, one eyebrow slowly lifting in the air, unimpressed.

He didn't respond but his smirk told you enough, and the longer he held your gaze, the wider the grin creeping its way onto your lips became. Yes, you had feelings for the dark-haired clone, but you were fundamentally a prankster. Always in for a good laugh. Plus, what problems can a shirt do? It's a shirt!

You removed Hunter's blacks, keeping a hold of your undershirt so you wouldn't show too much to your brothers and quickly slipped into the new shirt. Sadly, the sleeves were a bit tight so you had to adjust your undershirt sleeves but you manage to replace them easily. 

You rolled Hunter's black into a ball and throw it onto your bed. 

"Don't be mean." You threatened Crosshair with a finger under his chin.

"And you don't drool all over it." He took his toothpick from his lips to poke your fingers with it. You hissed and he threw it away. 

You walked out with Cross at your side, Wrecker choosing to walk before you so you would all be close enough to see the shift in Hunter's expression. If the boys were right, that is. 

Unfortunately, Hunter seemed too engrossed in his conversation with Tech to notice your shirt so as soon as you all sat onto your respective blankets, yours placed between Wrecker's and Tech's, you leaned slightly forward toward Crosshair. 

"Thanks for the shirt Cross!" You smiled at him. 

In the corner of your eyes, you noticed Hunter straighten, head moving to you despite Tech still addressing him. Cross grunted in acknowledgment, already watching Hunter and was clearly enjoying what he saw. 

Your eyes moved to the sergeant's, who was now deeply frowning, too concentrated on analyzing your shirt that he didn't notice the four pairs of eyes scrutinizing his face, three playful, one confused. 

"What's wrong?" Tech asked, head-turning to you to see what disturbed him that much. As soon as his eyes fell on you he knew. And you felt stupid for being the last one to notice that this was happening. "Ah." That you've been stupid enough to let yourself fall into a territorial fight. 

"Not to your liking, Sarge?" Crosshair sassed, enjoying the tightness in his brother's jaw.

You started to feal really bad. And confused. Was Crosshair really interested in you too? You knew Hunter cared about you, the kisses, the hugs, the moments of vulnerability shared with one another, they all told you that you meant something more. But Crosshair’s behavior really started to contradict everything you thought you knew about him.

"What's that?" He turned to confront his brother, catching on to the fact that he'd been played as soon as he registered the smugness coating Crosshair's face. 

"Cut the crap. 's just a shirt." He rolled his eyes at Hunter's barely concealed annoyance. But it wasn't just a shirt. Not to them. 

It started to dawn on you that this was a terrible idea and that you've been played and that- oh shit Hunter's fingers closed to form a fist entangled in his blanket.

"Stop right there." You hurried to cut Hunter's words that you just knew would start a bickering war. You had to stop it before it could deteriorate to something bad because you didn't trust Crosshair to not put oil on the fire and hit every single one of his brother's nerves. To top it all, he was the one right next to Hunter. This was getting dangerous.

" 'm not wearin' anyone's shirt." 

You removed the blacks, ignoring the concert of grumbles telling you not to, rolled it in a ball, switched the ball with Tech's and used it as your personal pillow. You laid down on your back and pulled the blanket tightly around yourself, eying the stars above like you used to on Fors. 

You seemed to have done the right thing, because the rest followed your example, Tech's head burying itself in his new pillow inches from yours. A yelp from Crosshair soon followed by a smack in retaliation made you sigh, effectively cutting short their childish behaviors. 

It took a couple of minutes until the sergeant heard what he was waiting for, a soft clattering muffled by the blanket covering your mouth, the sound of your hands moving up and down your arms in hope of creating warmth and your irregular breathing that you controlled enough to keep it down but not enough to keep it steady. 

The boys had fallen asleep, Wrecker's snores echoing between the trees around, Crosshair's and Tech's soft regular breathings were easy to distinguish. 

"Y/N." He called softly to not wake his brothers, his eyes already on your subtly shaking form. "I know you're cold." 

You turned your head in his direction, frowning. 

"So? I won't get the shirt back on." You whispered, gaze moving to Tech to make sure he was still sleeping. 

"Good. C'mere." He lifted the corner of his blanket, to which you raised an eyebrow. 

"Sharing your blanket to prove yourself better, now?" 

"Just…" He pointed to the spot next to him with his head. "C'mere." 

You huffed while sitting up to look around, the three remaining clones were still out, their peaceful face illuminated by the dying fire in the center of your circle. Carefully, you got up with the fabric tightly wrapped around your shoulders, stepping over Tech's hand and reached the offered spot. 

Immediately you felt the warmth radiating off him and like a moth to a flame, you wrapped yourself around him without shame because you needed this. And because it was so unfair that he could regulate his temperature while you couldn't, so you decided that he had to share. 

Clearly, he didn't mind, his arms sneaking around your waist to keep you close and offer you more of his body heat, his head leaning down a bit to breathe in your bewitching smell and place a kiss onto your hair just as you snuggled closer and leaned your head onto his chest, one of your legs sneaking between his to get more comfortable. 

"Better?" His chest rose and downed slowly, unlike the beating of his heart beneath your fingertips. This was the first time you had this much contact with each other, the feeling not lost on either of you. 

"Yeah." You moved your head to place a kiss under his jaw and reposition yourself. "Didn't know he even liked me." You whispered, finger moving in circles over his heart, asking yourself how did this happen?

"He liked you after our first time on Fors. He was a goner after the second time." He explained truthfully, the memory of the second trip onto this godforsaken planet made him shiver in dread. How people could live in this hell was beyond his comprehension. 

You noticed his reaction and automatically reached up to dissipate the trauma with a slow movement of your fingers over his cheeks. 

"But I was there first." He smirked, arms tightening around you somewhat.  

"Don't start." You smacked his chest softly to which he quietly laughed.

--

Frangin = Brother

Next part here: A story of having each other’s back

[dontcare77ghj]

Leisure Sickness

Natasha x reader x Tony x Steve

Leisure sickness is defined as a psychological condition in which people, read workaholics, can become ill when given time off.

Leisure sickness's symptoms can include headaches, nausea, insomnia, and vomiting.

These symptoms quickly became synonymous with Steve, Natasha, Y/N, and Tony whenever they went on vacation.

The four of you had decided that you'd had enough with the media and the general public for this season. It seemed as if everyone had an opinion on the team, and you were all sick of it.

So Steve had pitched the idea of the four of you going on vacation for a couple of weeks. 

It had been a lot of back and forth before the four of you came to a decision that you were all happy with. 

The four of you would take three weeks off from the world unless it was about to end and stay at a house on Tony's private island.

"This place is massive. I'm pretty sure I've been lost for the last hour." You said, entering the kitchen where Natasha and Steve were putting groceries away. 

"You've been gone ten minutes, doll." Steve chuckled, stocking the fridge full of drinks.

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure it's been an hour." You commented, taking a seat on the counter. "Are we sure time doesn't work differently here?"

"How much coffee have you had?" Natasha asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

"I had two cups on the plane." You told her honestly. 

"You mean the cups that were basically soup bowls?" Steve clarified.

"I drank whatever was served to me." You shrugged. 

"We're going to talk about that later," Natasha said, pointing a finger at you. "But first, can you find Tony? We haven't seen him since we got here."

"Sure. I've explored a lot of this place. I should be able to find him." You shrugged, jumping off the counter.

"Alright, we'll see you in an hour," Steve said, receiving the middle finger from you. 

To be fair, Steve might have been pretty spot on. To explore just the ground floor took you about twenty minutes, and there were still two floors, both with dozens of rooms each, to search. 

"What's behind door number nineteen?" You mumbled, pulling open your nineteenth door, you'd been counting, to reveal another bathroom. 

Except this one held your Tony. A Tony who wasn't looking so good.

"Tones?" You asked quietly, moving to kneel beside the empty bathtub Tony was occupying. "What's wrong, hon?" 

"Just a bit of a headache," Tony mumbled. 

"And you're in the bathtub because?"

"It's nice and cool," Tony told you, keeping his eyes closed.

"Okay, how about you stay here, and I'll get you something for your head?" You suggested, gently brushing hair off his forehead.

"Thank you," Tony mumbled, leaning his head back once more.

"Couldn't you find him?" Steve asked when you reentered the kitchen.

"No, I found him." You told him, beginning to look through the cupboards. "Hauled up in a bathtub with a raging headache. Did we pack any Tylenol?"

"Here," Natasha said, throwing it to you. "I thought he looked a little pale on the plane." She commented.

"He was fine before we got on the plane, though," Steve mentioned. "You think it's an extreme form of jetlag?"

"Could be. It could also be the fact that Tony's not looked after himself at all the past week." You said. "He's been working himself to the bone. His body probably doesn't understand what's going on."

"So we should expect him to feel worse." Natasha deduced. "I'll make something to settle his stomach." She nodded to herself.

"And I'll deliver this." You said, shaking the pills. 

"I'll come with you. I imagine the bathtub's not that comfortable, and Tony might not want to walk to the bedroom." Steve said, moving to follow you. 

"Has death finally come for me?" Tony asked when the two of you made your way back to him.

"Not yet, Tones." You told him, kneeling in the same place as before.

"And not for a long time," Steve added, bending beside you.

"Ugh, I really thought it was him that time." Tony sighed before cracking his eyes open. "Did you bring the good stuff?"

"I did." You nodded, dosing out two of the tablets and handing them to him. "Give me a second, and I'll get you some water." You said, rising to stand, but Tony took the two dry. "That's disgusting."

"Water's for bitches." Tony grunted before closing his eyes again. 

"Come on, Tony, let's get you to bed," Steve said to him. 

"Too much work." Tony denied before Steve picked him up. "Woah! Give a man a little warning." Tony grumbled as Steve chuckled quietly. 

"Asking's for bitches." You teased, walking in front of the two and opening doors.

"Get some rest, Tony," Steve said, putting onto the bed and pulling the covers over him.

"I'll shut my eyes for a few minutes, and I'll be fine," Tony mumbled, rolling over onto his side.

It didn't even take Tony another minute before he was fast asleep.

The next time the four of you decided to go on vacation, you'd decided to go a bit more touristy. 

The four of you were in London for two weeks and would be spending your days visiting every popular tourist attraction. It was your second day in London, the first dedicated to sleeping off the jetlag, and you would soon be leaving the house.

At least you would be if you could settle your stomach.

Your stomach had been churning all night, and no matter what, you couldn't stop it. You'd managed to crawl into the bathroom and not wake anyone, but now you were stuck on the floor.

"Sweetheart? Y/N?" You could hear your name being called. "Y/N, where are you?" 

The bathroom door opened, but you couldn't lift your head from its position.

"Found her," Natasha called before walking over to you. "You look like shit, med," Natasha said, placing a hand on your back.

"Nice, real nice." You groaned, lifting your head slightly. "Just give me a minute to get up and get dressed, and we can get going." 

"The only place you're going is back to bed," Natasha told you as Steve and Tony entered the bathroom.

"Doll, are you okay?" Steve questioned you.

"I'm fine. I just need help getting up. And maybe getting dressed." You told him.

"Y/N, you are sick," Natasha said firmly.

"Nu-uh, I haven't thrown up yet." You denied.

"You don't look too far off from it, babe," Tony informed you. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. It was still dark when I came in." You grunted before dry heaving, but nothing would come up.

"Okay, Steve, would you please get some ginger ale?" Natasha asked, pulling your hair off your face. "Y/N, when was the last time you ate?"

"Not sure."

"Okay, add some saltines to that order too, Steve," Natasha told him.

"Do you honestly not remember the last time you ate?" Tony asked, coming to sit next to Natasha.

"I was working on that paperwork for Nick until the minute we left." You mumbled. "Forgot to eat."

"And that's most likely why you're feeling like crap now." Natasha hummed. "Do you think you'll be okay if we get you back to bed?"

"Just leave me here to perish." You groaned.

"No can do, you're stuck with us," Tony said as he helped Natasha pull you to your feet.

"Sorry I ruined vacation." You whimpered as you were laid in bed.

"You didn't ruin anything, med," Natasha promised, brushing hair from your forehead. "Not at all."

"We still have time before we have to go home." Tony soothed your guilty conscience. "There's plenty of time to do all the touristy bullshit your little heart desires."

"Yay." You moaned, curling into a ball.

It was a long time before the four of you were able to go on another vacation. 

Missions had begun to become back to back and would last weeks, Tony was forced to travel for SI, and Fury seemed to have an unhealthy attachment to long meetings.

It was after Natasha had been on a mission for two months, Tony had been in Japan for one month, and you and Steve had endured countless hours in the hands of Fury that Steve declared you all needed a vacation. 

Steve had literally googled relaxing vacations before deciding upon Brittany, France. 

Though Steve had argued with Fury, for what felt like days, Steve was only able to barter a week off for the four of you.

"Tony, why do you have more bags than me?" You asked as Steve attempted to play Tetris with your luggage.

"I like to have options, dear," Tony said, pulling his sunglasses on. "Never know when one of those parasites are going to spot me."

"Don't call reporters parasites." Steve chided.

"Are we ready to go yet?" Natasha asked, pulling on a jacket despite it being a warm day. "The plane is going to leave soon."

"Just one more bag, and we can get going," Steve told her, picking up a small suitcase.

"Can I once again point out how ridiculous that is? I own the plane. It should wait for me." Tony scoffed, climbing into the car with Natasha right behind him. 

The four of you faced no more problems until halfway through the flight. Natasha had jumped from her seat, startling the three of you from your half-asleep states, and bolted into the plane's bathroom. 

It was seconds before the sounds of retching filled the plane. 

"Tash?" Steve asked as the three of you stood up.

"I'm good." Natasha choked out. "Get away from the door, Steven."

"How'd she know it was only me?" Steve grumbled, walking back over to you and Tony.

"Spy, Steven!"

Natasha stayed in the bathroom for another seven minutes exactly. When she exited, her skin was flushed, she was covered in a thick layer of sweat, and she was shivering violently. 

"FRI give me Nat's temperature," Tony demanded as you rushed to pull Natasha to a chair.

"101.3, boss," FRIDAY informed you all.

"Shit, Nat," Steve swore. "How long have you been running a fever?"

"Not running a fever." Natasha denied, lounging back in the chair and pulling her jacket closer.

"101.3 is a fever, Tash." You said, pulling her jacket off. "We might have to get you to a hospital." 

"How long until we land, FRI?" 

"Three hours, boss." 

"We're going to have to bring her temperature down ourselves," Steve said, grabbing a towel and dumping his iced water on it.

By the time the plane landed, the three of you had successfully managed to bring Natasha's temperature down. 

The four of you emerged from the plane, Natasha cradled in Steve's arms.

"That was probably the most stressful start to a vacation," Tony commented as you all entered a waiting car. "Let's get you to a hospital, hey, Nat?"

The four of you stayed away from vacations for a long time after that incident. Not because you were all slightly traumatized but because life seemed to pick up its pace once more.

It had been a year and a half since Natasha had a raging fever, and now the four of you were on yet another getaway. 

Except for this time, it was for new reasons.

The four of you had had a commitment ceremony just two days ago, the Asgardian equivalent of a polyamorous wedding. 

It had been a long time coming and a lot of planning, but it was worth it. And it had meant everything to you all.

Now the four of you were on your honeymoon in Tony's rebuilt Malibu home. 

"Do you think we'd get in trouble if we moved here?" Natasha asked, pulling her sunglasses down.

"From who? We're all adults. Who would we get in trouble with?" Tony asked her.

"Fury. The government. The news. The world." You listed off. 

"At the end of the day, how much do they really matter?" Tony shrugged, pulling you onto his lap. 

"You would avoid Nick?" Natasha asked, quirking a brow. 

"The pirate doesn't scare me." Tony shook his head as you and Natasha grinned. "Don't tell him I said that." 

Before either of you could respond, the sound of footsteps coming closer caused you all to look up.

Steve was staggering over to the poolside, looking very much worse for wear.

"Jesus, Stevie, how many laps did you do?" Natasha asked as Steve stole her water and gulped it down.

"One." Steve gasped. "I felt like I was going to pass out, so I quit."

"Jesus Christ, sit down, Steve." You ordered, standing and moving over to the blonde. "You are really pale." You tsked, holding his head in your hands. 

"That's the Irish in him." Tony joked, now standing behind you with Natasha at his side. 

"When was the last time you slept?" You asked, running your finger over the prominent dark circles.

"The wedding night." Steve sighed. "I haven't been able to sleep since."

"You're exhausted, Steve." Natasha pointed out. "You can't run on willpower alone."

"I know that, but I physically can't make myself sleep," Steve told her. "I don't know what it is, but I can't."

"Maybe it's because you're trying to force yourself to sleep instead of allowing yourself to." Tony reasoned. 

"Why did you get all philosophical?" Steve asked him. 

"Always have been. Let's get you to bed, Cap." Tony said, helping Steve to his feet. With a bit of maneuvering, the three of you were able to move the bulky super soldier to your large bed and put him under the covers.

"Stay, please," Steve mumbled, already half asleep. 

"Always, Stevie." You said as the three of you crawled in beside your Steve.

Vacations could always be stressful, but it seemed for the four of you it was always amplified. Especially when someone always managed to get sick.

Remember all Taglists are open as are requests. 

Taglist

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Natasha Romanoff Taglist

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[dontshootmespence]

Teetering on the Edge

Summary: You and Dean are meant for each other, but in his line of work, he deems your relationship too dangerous for the long haul, pushing you away, leaving you both worse for the wear.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1,893

Warnings: Cursing, nausea, vomiting, fever, seizures.

A/N: This will fulfill my ‘pining sickness’ square for @spnabobingo​, soulmate au (same mark on each other’s skin that reaches for its counterpart when there’s distance between you) for @spnfluffbingo (sorry I never seem to be able to do strict fluff with supernatural characters XD) and ‘I’d rather be in danger with you than safe without you’ for @spnquotebingo​.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You screamed, racing down the stairs after him. There was no way he was going to walk away and pretend this wasn’t happening. Not anymore. “Don’t fucking walk away from me!”

Dean rounded on so fast it scared you. “Y/N, I am toxic!” He bellowed, stopping Sam in his tracks behind you. “Every, single, time I get involved with someone, they die! Monsters, hunters, angels, demons, shitty fucking humans! It doesn’t matter. They will use you to get to me!”

“So what?” You stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of beer, snapping the cap off through sheer anger before taking a long sip. Even alcohol wasn’t helping your rattling nerves. “When you love someone, you do things you wouldn’t normally do! Did I expect this life? No way, but I’m in it now and I’m in love with you, you fucking moron!”

He hesitated slightly, your words undoubtedly getting to him despite himself. “Well, I don’t feel the same way.”

Sam glared at him disbelievingly, not saying a word. Dean elbowed you out of the way of the refrigerator and grabbed another beer, downing nearly half of it before continuing. “I care about you. And I care about you enough to turn you away from me and this life.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare pull that neanderthal bullshit with me, Alpha!” You yelled your throat hoarse. Sam dipped out of the area and back toward his bedroom. It didn’t matter. Whether he was here or not, you’d be seething. “You don’t get to decide my life for me! Have you ever thought that maybe I’d rather be in danger with you than safe without you?” He readied himself to respond but you pushed against his shoulder with a force that startled even you. “Did you ever stop to think that I’ve waited my entire life to find the person I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with? And that now that I found him, I’ll be damned if I let him go?”

You were on a roll. Dean wanted to speak, but you wouldn’t let him. “No! You didn’t fucking think about what I want! Because your��number one priority is to make sure you don’t have anymore blood on your hands. Well, guess what. You don’t get to do that. Not with me! When you care, you get blood on your hands. That’s just the way it is. I get to make my own damn decisions!” It all just exploded out of you. You kept screaming and crying and drinking to the point where you weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore. As you kept going, your arguments shifted from his demeanor to your own health. “You claimed me,” you said, pulling your sleeve aside to shove the mark in his face. “You know what’ll happen to me without you? I could fucking die!” 

Dean waited for you to stop ranting, steadily finishing his beer. Once you were all yelled out, he chose his words wisely. “There’s medication. You’ll be fine. You’re not going to change my mind,” he said flatly, trying to keep any sense of emotion out of his voice, even though you could tell he was right on the edge of acknowledging every amazing and shit feeling he was feeling in this moment. “I need you to get out of the bunker as soon as possible. For your own good.”

Without thinking, you reeled back and slapped him, open palm to cheek, relishing in the sound of the crack that reverberated throughout the bunker. “Fuck you, Alpha! Fuck. You.”

You kept his gaze as you dipped down to grab your bag. If he was going to pull this bullshit, he was going to look into your broken gaze and suffer while he did it. You weren’t going to be the only one to feel like jumping off the edge of a cliff. Fuck him. 

As you climbed the stairs, you glanced down at your hand and glimpsed the ring he’d given you. Boiling with anger, you ripped it off your finger and threw it at him, turning to leave before he could see the tears rolling down your cheeks.

----

You knew the possibilities. It could be as little as a fever and nausea that plagued you. Or it could go to the other end of the spectrum and kill you. With tear-stained cheeks, and no care for who saw you in this state, you headed out the night after your fight with Dean and meet with a doctor at an urgent clinic that specialized in working with omegas. After he checked your vital signs, he leaned against the wall. You felt no threat from him. He was an unassuming beta, which is why you tended to come here. “What can I help you with?”

“I was wondering if I might be able to get some medication to combat pining sickness?” You swiped the silently falling tears and snot from your face with the back of your sleeve. 

“You’re mated?”

“Yes, but my Alpha is a pig-headed, son-of-a-bitch in a dangerous line of work that thinks he’s doing me favors by staying away from me.”

“He knows how dangerous pining sickness can be, right?”

Nodding, you stared down at the mark on your hand, cursing its movement as another tear slipped down your cheek. “Yea, but he said there’s medication and he’s adamant that he’s too dangerous for me to be around.”

“He should’ve thought about that before mating with you,” the beta said angrily. When he met your gaze, his own softened. “I can give you something. I hope he comes to his senses, but if he doesn’t I can write up refills for as long as you need, okay?”

A strained smile was all you could muster as you took the prescription from him and bid him a good day, thanking him again for his time and understanding. Less than an hour later, your prescription was filled. One pill a day. Down the hatch.

----

Shakily, you took another pill. Five days since Dean had shoved you out of his life. It started with shakes and a fever, despite the pill. If you didn’t have the pill you might be dead already. 

Pain racked your body, tensed every muscle so badly you could do almost nothing but sleep. Pulling the covers back up over your head, you attempted to shut your eyes against the pain. Bile burnt at the back of your throat. You barely made it to the sink before the little food you’d been able to eat the last few days found its way back up and out. 

Wiping the remnants away, you fell back against the wall and slipped to the cold, hard tile. It took all the strength you had to reach into your pocket and call Sam. Dean wouldn’t pick up, but Sam might. And maybe he could convince Dean to pull his head out of his ass. 

“Hello? Y/N?” Sam asked, his voice growing more concerned when you didn’t answer him. “Y/N, are you there?”

You replied, your voice barely above a whisper, despite trying. “Sam, I’m not well. Dean won’t pick up. I’m shaking. I have a crazy fever, even though I’m on meds. I can’t sleep and it’s only getting worse. Every day. I feel like my insides are boiling. Please, talk to him.”

“You’re on medication?”

“Since the day after I walked out. It’s not helping. Without it, I’d be dead already. Please, Sam. Try. Or I’m not gonna make it.”

Sam’s reply got caught in his throat. “I’ll get him to pull his head out of his ass, I promise.”

A laugh escaped you, but it hurt. “It’s really far up there, Sam.”

“I know.”

----

Every movement felt like climbing a mountain. And every waking moment was a fight to keep living. You started having seizures and could barely keep any food down. Water was all you could stomach.

Another three days past before you heard from Sam again. “He’s immovable, Y/N. Is the medication helping at all?”

“No,” you sobbed, though no tears slid down onto your pillow. “I’m having seizures. I’m burning up. I’m trying to stay on my side so that I don’t choke if I have a seizure, but I’m- I’m not gonna make it. I need you to tell Dean that despite everything...I loved him.”

Hanging up, you tossed the phone across the room with the strength you could muster and teared up again at the sight of the mark on your hand. It had always reminded you of an oak tree, but now the leaves looked like tendrils, crawling across your skin in search of its counterpart. You ran your opposite thumb across the mark and fell asleep, not knowing whether you’d wake up the next morning.

----

Dim light shined into your eyes the following morning, practically blinding you. Your muscles were stiff, barely limber enough to prop yourself up in bed without searing pain, but you managed, taking another pill even though it probably wasn’t doing anything.

Taking a trip to the bathroom was a monumental affair, but on the way you grabbed your phone again. You were so tired. You weren’t going to make it another day. Teetering on the edge of an abyss.

Once again on the bed, you called Dean this time, not surprised when it went to voicemail. “Hey, Alpha. I just...I needed to call you one last time. My temperature’s 105. I can barely move my muscles. I’m having seizures. I won’t make it another day. I know I asked Sam to tell you, but I needed you to hear it from me. Despite everything, despite your bull-headedness and completely dumbassery...I love you. I knew when we first met, even before I saw the mark on your hand, that you were my soulmate. And even though I’m not going to make it, the years we spent together were the best of my life.”

The phone slipped from your grasp after you hung up, thudding against the sheets. Through the gossamer curtains, you marveled at the sun, remembered what it looked like the day you met Dean, before drifting off to sleep.

----

A strong grasp shook you awake.

“Alpha?”

“’Mega, ‘M here.”

When you opened your eyes, you saw his soft greens gazing back at you, filmed by tears as deep as the ocean. “Am I dead?”

“No,” he sobbed. “Mega, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was a fuckin idiot. Stay with me.”

His hands slid up the dry, cracked skin on your arms and up your face. His touch was warm - home. “Fucking idiot would be an understatement.”

Something between a laugh and a sob left his lips. “I know. Baby, ‘Mega, open your eyes.” His thumb traveled back and forth over your cheek, coaxing your eyes to open. “That’s it. Just...stay with me, okay?”

He spoke to you as he stripped himself of his clothes and you of yours, crawling into bed behind you. When his skin melted into yours, you felt a modicum of relief. Something that gave you the slightest bit of hope. “Don’t leave me,” you whispered. 

His hand grasped yours, the mark on his hand melding with yours. “Never again.”

[cakelanguage]

A very self-indulgent fluffy piece for RiVer. I just want these two to have a happy ending so I’m giving it to them! I hope you like this :)

You can also read this on AO3

--

It wasn’t even noon when V got a ping on her Agent from River. A small smile graced her face despite being in the middle of taking out another gonk for Wakako. The gig wasn’t hard - a simple in-and-out retrieval of some intel that’d fallen into the wrong hands, but even simple jobs sometimes involved taken out a guy or two. This one was harmless, not even worth the street cred it might get her for taking him out so she simply knocked him out and stuffed him in one of the bins conveniently posted outside the room.

Really it was like they were asking for people to just dump bodies in them. Actually, that was probably exactly what they wanted to happen. Fewer cleanups for the police to have to deal with and all.

Pocketing the shard that’d been on the desk, she pulled up River’s text.

Hey babe, you busy?

She grinned and quickly sent a negative to him. She barely found time to hang out with River, what with all the Arasaka and Johnny bullshit she’d been dealing with the past few months. Now that she wasn’t in imminent death from the Relic she honestly just wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend. Fuck if she wasn’t going to take advantage of River and her not being busy.

You available to call?

For you? Always. xoxo

She could almost hear Johnny groaning at her being mushy. She felt a pang of loss as she thought about the rockerboy and placed a kiss on her fist before she raised it to the sky. She hoped Johnny was out there somewhere giving the corpos hell from the deepest levels of cyberspace.

The call popped up and she quickly answered as she walked toward the drop-off point.

“Hey River,” V chirped, quickly taking in his appearance in the little window in the upper corner of her vision.

“V, hey yourself,” River said, a lop-sided grin settling easily on his face. “How’ve you been?”

She hummed noncommittally. “Can’t complain too much, definitely been missing morning cuddles though.” And perfect cups of coffee. And the polarity of temperatures between River’s cybernetic hand and the warmth of his skin. And kisses.

She felt needy, missing him so much and all the little things he did. But maybe needy wasn't so bad.

“I’ve missed them too.”

“Think we can change that then?”

“Yeah, case is closed and I’ll be back by this evening.”

If V could’ve purred with delight she would have. “Mm, I’m a lucky girl.”

River laughed, shaking his head. “I’m the lucky one.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks and she didn’t even try to hide her pleased grin. “As much as I’d love to just talk about how lucky we are to have each other, something tells me this isn’t strictly a pleasure call.”

Her boyfriend gave her an abashed smile. “You caught me,” he admitted.

She laughed. “Well go on, let’s hear it,” V teased. “What do you need? A contact? A lead? Someone, to do some super sleuthing?”

“No, no, nothing like that, it’s uh- it’s actually kind of a favor for me and Joss.”

Since she’d met River she’d steadily been getting closer and closer with Joss. It was nice to have another girlfriend, though with Judy and Panam, not to mention Misty and Rogue (if she could count Rogue), she wasn’t exactly lacking in them.

But Joss was different. She was a single mom who busted her ass to provide for her family. It reminded her starkly of her older sister back when the Bakkers were still around. And though Joss sometimes brought up painful memories for her, she loved the woman.

“I don’t mind helping you two out,” V reassured, finally dropping off the shard. She’d get the eddies within the next half hour and if need be she could split her earnings to give to the family. “Anything you need, I’m your girl.”

A husky chuckle echoes over the coms. "Anything, huh?"

"I helped take down one of the leading corpos in the world with an engram of a rockstar slowly taking over my brain - I'm open to just about anything at this point."

"Fair enough." River let out a breath of air. "Joss asked me if I'd meet her this afternoon at Heywood General Hospital to pick up Randy."

V's eyes widened. "He's been cleared for release?" She hadn't thought Randy would be released for another few weeks. It'd been touch-and-go at the beginning and although he'd come a long way since the farm, he still had plenty of recovering to do.

"Yeah, I was shocked too, but I've been visiting him and he's doing a lot better than he was."

Anything would've been better than the drug-induced catatonia that he'd been in when River and V had found him in that barn. She was still haunted by the half-lidded eyes and slack jaw that had been behind that plastic mask. "That's great," her shoulders relaxed from their previous position, "I'm glad he's doing better."

"Me too, and Joss is happy she gets to bring him home."

"He gonna be in his trailer again?"

River made a noncommittal noise. "That's up to him really. We don't know how he'll feel about being alone now but we've decided to let Randy feel his way through this one."

Made the most sense to V. "Alright so you and Joss are going to pick up Randy and you want me too…?" V asked, shifting their conversation back to the favor River and Joss wanted.

"Oh uh right yeah," River scratched the back of his neck. V wanted nothing more than to ease the man's nerves about whatever he was going to ask. "Since Joss and I are going to be getting Randy, we need someone to watch Dorian and Monique." He didn't pause to let her get a word in edgewise. "Usually one of the neighbors can watch them but most of them are busy and then I might've suggested that we could ask you." He scratched at his cheek and shifted his gaze to the side. "You can say of course, but I figured-"

"Babysitting the little rugrats?" V asked with a grin, interrupting her boyfriend's spiel. "You trust me to watch 'em?"

"V," River had that tone to his voice that was part scolding and part fond, "you're their 'Auntie V,' they'll be cheering when they find out you're watching them."

"I don't know, you did joke that I was the one who needed a babysitter."

He snorted and raised a meaningful brow. "And sometimes you do, but I have total faith in you on this. As does Joss."

"Well I guess I can trust Joss' judgment," V teased. "I can be there in twenty."

River's shoulders sagged at her acceptance. "Thanks, babe."

That mushy feeling returned with vengeance and V was sure she had some stupid look on her face. “Want me to make something for dinner?”

Her boyfriend whistled. “Got myself a lady who can kick ass and offer to make dinner.”

“Riv, come on,” she rolled her eyes trying to appear stern, “Dinner a yes or no?”

“Dinner would be great, to be honest. Joss and I were planning on picking something up on the way home.”

That wouldn’t do at all.

“Uh-uh, nope, no way am I letting Randy’s first meal out of the hospital to be some fast food soy protein that’s no much better than the shit you can get with a kibble card.”

“Hey, I’ve seen you eat that crap before,” River argued, though he looked more amused than anything.

“Details, details,” V waved a dismissive hand, “Randy have any food restrictions or favorite foods?”

Food had been a big part of V’s life growing up with the Bakker’s. Food didn’t just mean fueling the body, but feeding the soul. Her mother had once told her that a good meal could heal the body just as well as medicine. Looking back, V knew her mother had been exaggerating but she’d taken the statement to heart because a good meal showed someone you cared for their wellbeing.

Her boyfriend pondered her question as she pinged Jackie’s bike to meet her so she could leave.

“Well, he liked my jambalaya when I snuck some in for him to try last week.”

“Hot or mild?”

“Believe it or not, spicy.” His smile took on a bittersweet edge. “Told me it was the first thing he’d been able to taste since everything went down.”

“Then it’s good he got to taste something delicious,” V said.

River’s smile lost that edge and regained the softness he only showed when he was talking about his family or V herself. “Feel free to keep stroking my ego.”

V shook her head with a snort. “Maybe later,” she offered while mentally going through the repertoire of recipes she still remembered. Something spicy, strong flavors that the whole family would like. “Think he’d eat gumbo?”

“Gumbo?”

“Yeah, learned to make it back when my family was still together...”

She remembered the crowded prep stations, her underfoot as she helped as much as she could under her mother and sister’s tutelage. She remembered her uncle sneaking bits from the cutting boards and popping them in his mouth, sending her a wink and an exaggerated shushing motion to not say anything.

River didn’t interrupt her musing, instead, he waited patiently as she sorted her thoughts. He understood that if he interrupted V she wouldn’t finish talking about her past.

“Mealtime was one of the few times we all tried to be together and pause from our other duties,” V explained. “We made all kinds of stuff depending on who was in charge of dinner, but I know gumbo was my favorite and it’s similar to jambalaya.”

“A family recipe and your favorite, huh?” River commented, “I look forward to trying it.”

It didn’t matter that V hadn’t made gumbo in two years. She wanted to do something for her new family. "It’ll probably take me a little longer to get home since I’ll stop and get them on the way.” She revved the engine and patted the side of the bike. “See you, River, tell Randy we'll be waiting for him at home."

The silence stretched over the line and V had to make sure her Agent hadn't malfunctioned and dropped the call. But River was still connected, just stared at her with this shocked look. "You okay?" V asked.

Her question shook River from his stupor and he gave her a besotted look. "Yeah I'm fine," he reassured, "see you at home after Joss and I pick up Randy."

"Preem."

She snagged the veggies from an Aldaecado who sold some of their crops at the Sunset Motel and picked up some synthetic meat that didn’t look too bad and set course for the trailer park. The ride was as peaceful as ever and V cranked Jackie's bike to the max speed down the straightaways, shaving off five minutes from her ride. The Badlands were some of the best places to go full-throttle without having to worry about a bunch of traffic.

Joss stood on the porch while Monique and Dorian listened to whatever she told them, playfully jostling each other as much as they could get away with. As soon as they spotted V though, they dashed towards her with the exuberance that was only ever found in children. V knelt down with a laugh and opened her arms in invitation.

"Auntie V!" Monique cheered, reaching her first and throwing herself into V's waiting arms, scooping the little girl up into a full-body embrace.

V had quickly discovered how much the two kids liked their hugs and who was V to deny them that?

Dorian quickly followed, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Mom told us you're gonna watch us while she and Uncle River bring Randy home," Dorian said. "Which means we can play together again!"

V laughed and shifted Monique to her hip so she could ruffle Dorian's hair. "Only if you're willing to take this rookie under your wings," V said.

The two giggled and reassured her that they'd show her the ropes, both puffing up with pride.

She managed to slowly walk towards Joss with the two limpets clinging to her laughing and cheering. She saw the poorly hidden laughter that Joss was trying to cover up as just a smile. V was glad she could make the crow’s feet on the women's face crinkle instead of deepening the worry lines that were far too prominent on her friend's face.

“Hey Joss,” V greeted, shifting Monique enough so that she could pull Joss into an awkward one-armed hug.

“Hey, V,” Joss replied, pulling out of the hug. “Thank you so much for being willing to watch the kids.”

“Willing? I’m more than happy to watch them, you know that.”

V and the kids got along like a house fire and she cherished all the little games they’d play together. It gave V an excuse to check-out of adult stuff and focus on entertaining River’s niece and nephew. It had done wonders for her mental health.

Joss smiled and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Monique’s ear. “Still, I know it’s last minute. Neither River nor I were expecting them to give Randy the okay to leave the hospital.”

“And Randy’s probably been chomping at the bit to leave that place, right?”

The woman scoffed, shaking her head. “If he could’ve, I’m sure he would’ve broken out of there after the first five days.”

“A boy after my own heart.”

Despite going to a number of ripperdocs, regular hospitals, and trauma centers left her nervous and itching to leave ASAP. River practically had to drag her to the hospital just to get a full brain scan after the Relic incident.

Joss rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “We shouldn’t be more than a few hours at most. Pretty sure it’ll mostly be paperwork and finding out any home care we need to know about for Randy’s recovery.”

As usual, Joss was fairly matter-of-fact about the whole thing but she couldn’t hide her worry. V figured she’d be just as worried if her baby had gone through what Randy had. It didn’t help that her relationship with her son had been strained before and no matter how much they’d talked since the incident there was still the unknown of how their relationship would go once he was home again.

“He’ll be excited to see you,” V said, setting down the girl in her arms.

Monique tugged at Dorian’s shirt and the two were off chasing after each other.

Joss remained silent but her shoulders relaxed some. Finally, she seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts. “If the kids get hungry-”

“Feed ‘em something that won’t give them a sugar rush,” V dutifully replied. “I know, Joss don’t worry, I can handle these two just fine.”

Joss sighed. “I know you can, but a mother can’t help but worry,” she managed to give V a sly smile. “You’ll understand when you and River have a kid.”

V made a choking noise as her face flushed. “J-Joss, we-we haven’t even talked about marriage yet.”

“Hop to it, V,” Joss joked with a clap. “Need you to make an honest man out of my gonk of a brother and I want to be an aunt at some point in the near future.”

It was a nice thought, getting married and starting a family with River. It sounded terribly domestic and kind of wonderful if she was being honest.

But her and River could talk about that later.

Much later.

“Go on, get going,” V shooed, “Randy’s waiting.”

“Alright, alright, we can talk about giving me nieces and nephews later,” Joss relented. ‘If you want to get takeout, I have a few menus in the kitchen with Dorian and Monique’s favorites circled.”

“Actually I was gonna make gumbo,” Seeing Joss’ surprise she continued. “It’s a family recipe and I haven’t made it in a while but River said that Randy liked his jambalaya so I figured he’d probably like gumbo too since it also has a strong flavor. But uh if they won’t like it-”

“V,” Joss interrupted with a grin.

“Hm?”

“I really hope River does marry you.”

V blushed and returned her grin. “Yeah me too.”

She’d managed to make the roux for the gumbo while Monique and Dorian were playing tag and now she just had to let the gumbo simmer which meant she was completely free to play. The two were more than ready for her to join them, bouncing around her as she quickly donned the AR set.

The blue tint to ‘Trouble in Heywood’ flooded her vision and she took in the kids’ game personas: Captain Joan McClane and Lieutenant Henry Callahan. It still made her laugh when she saw them, the two rough officers that looked like they were ex-Militech before joining the force. It didn’t help that the backstories they’d given them were so serious.

“Didn’t know if you’d come back, rookie,” Captain Joan, Monique said, her arms crossed and her face stern behind her shades. “Thought what you’d seen when we took down El Chamuco Endiablado was still clinging onto ya’.”

Lieutenant Henry Callahan, Dorian scoffed. “Nah, the two rookies we worked with for the takedown were good, and that’s coming from me,” he argued.

“Sounds like we might’ve grown on you two lone wolves, huh?” V teased, cocking her hip as she checked her gun.

“Don’t get cute with me, rookie,” Captain Joan said.

V raised her hands. “Fine, fine,” she bounced her eyes back and forth between the two. “What’s the situation today?”

“With El Chamuco Endiablado gone, we created a power vacuum and the force is flaggin’ under the pushback,” Captain Joan explained.

“Which is why they’ve called us in,” Lieutenant Henry added, “Regular force just won’t cut it, gotta call in the best of the precinct to take these goons down.”

“We called you in for backup, rookie. All you gotta do is keep up and watch our backs, we can handle the rest.”

“No doubt about that,” V said, “But y’know, I gotta make it home to my partner, promised him I’d make it back.”

“The other rookie?” Lieutenant Henry asked.

“The one and only.”

Captain Joan shook her head and cocked her gun. “Battlefield’s no place for emotion, rookie,” she advised. “We need to dedicate ourselves to taking this filth out.”

V nodded her head and squared her shoulders. “Yes, ma’am,” she saluted, “Are we ready to start?”

Lieutenant Henry gave her a wild grin. “Those bad guys can’t escape justice.”

They ended up playing three different rounds of ‘Trouble in Heywood,’ each round further expanding the narrative. In the last game, Lieutenant Henry had gone rogue to zero José Luis, a Valentino who’d gotten away with murder because the NCPD “didn’t have enough evidence to convict him.” According to Captain Joan, Lieutenant Henry had been harboring secret feelings for the murder victim and he was out for blood.

Honestly, V wasn’t sure where the kids pulled these plots from, but they were endlessly entertaining.

She looked up from the pot she was stirring and made sure the kids were still sitting at the table she'd sat them at with a snack. It didn't look good to her, but Monique and Dorian cheered at the sight of it so at least they liked it.

She tapped her spoon against the rim of her pot and set it to the side. "What do you two wanna do now?" V asked, taking a seat beside Dorian.

"Mom usually makes us practice our reading and math," Dorian grumbled, his eyebrows scrunching together. "We aren't even going to school yet, it's like lightyears away."

"Lightyears, huh?" V mused, propping her chin against her hand. "That's a pretty long time."

"I know!" Dorian threw his hands up. "She says she wants us to be ready and stuff but it's so boring."

"The worst," Monique agreed. "But maybe since Mom isn't here…" She trailed off and gave her puppy dog eyes.

Yeah, that wasn't going to work on her. "Oh no-"

"Please, V?" Dorian begged.

Then it became a cacophony of pleading words and promises to work harder tomorrow. Taking them on one-at-a-time, but both of them at once? Not even worth considering arguing.

"If I let you skip this lesson time," she started, the kids already whooping beside her. "I said if. "

The two nodded seriously, “We’ll do it,” they promised readily.

V shook her head, squinting at them with a skeptical look. “I haven’t even said what you have to do if you skip your lessons.” Monique and Dorian traded confused looks before turning back to her. “The first rule of any kinda deal,” she held up one finger, “you gotta listen to the whole deal, otherwise you might be signing yourself up for something worse.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Dorian insisted.

“How can you be sure?”

“Cause you’re nice,” Monique said. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe not to you guys, but I’ve conned my fair share of gonks.” Their faith in her left a warm feeling in her chest. “Alright, but back to the deal. I let you guys skip, but you guys have to help me make a welcome home sign for Randy.”

Two pairs of wide eyes stared at her, mouths agape. “We’re gonna make a billboard?” They asked.

V bit her lip and shook her head. “Not a billboard, little short on time and really out of our budget.” She rifled through her pockets and pulled out a small device. “Had this bad boy for a while now, usually I use it to pull up my schematics or tweak one of my daemons, but I’ve got an app that’ll just let us create a design we wanna display.” She fiddled with her Agent and turned the phone towards them. “I’ve got the words, but I need two experts to really make it shine, figured you two would be perfect for the job.”

“Really?” Dorian whispered.

“Really really.” She leaned back, her smile relaxed and open. “I can do some graffiti or graphic style stuff, but you guys know Randy best.”

Monique kicked her legs back and forth and stared at the screen with a frown. “Last time we saw Randy, he didn’t want to hang out with us and said we were annoying him,” she mumbled just loud enough for V to hear.

Her heart sunk at the solemn tone of the girl’s voice. That was when Randy had been in Peter Pan’s grasp when he was being gaslighted with promises of understanding and promises of help.

You can tell a kid that their sibling loves them and what they were going through, but it didn’t erase the hurt that kid felt. And they didn’t fully understand.

Even so, reassurance was better than nothing.

“When Randy last talked to you,” V stated, making both kids look at her. “He was going through some tough times.” She picked at her nail as she tried to find the right words. How much did they know about what happened to Randy? “Do you know what happened with Randy?”

Dorian hesitantly shook his head. “We knew he went missing, and Mom said that you and Uncle River found him and brought him back,” he said.

“And he’s been at the hospital because he was hurt when you guys found him,” Monique added.

V nodded her head. “That’s the gist of it,” V admitted. She hesitated before continuing. “Randy thought he had a… friend, but when he went to meet this friend, he turned out to be a bad guy.”

“Like… the bad guys in our game?” Dorian asked.

V fought a grimace. “Worse.” When her statement was met with silence she continued. “Randy was captured and was hurt real bad while he was held captive.”

She’d never get the image of those kids gassed up and comatose, hooked up to those fucking machines out of her head. No matter what she did, she still remembers the frantic way her hands shook as she checked pulses on cool bodies and tugged out crusted IVs from limp arms.

“According to your Uncle River, Randy’s doing much better,” she reassured, trying to assuage some of their unease. “But he’s gonna need you two to help him, even if he’s grumpy and being mean.” She playfully punched her palm. “Sometimes you just gotta break through their defenses and make them understand. Which is why,” V gestured to her Agent, “We’re making him a special welcome sign.”

“And… it’ll help Randy?” Dorian asked.

“Showing him you care and are happy to see him can sometimes be exactly what a person needs.”

Monique and Dorian turned to each other and nodded before turning back to V. “You can count on us!”

V clapped her hands. “That’s what I like to hear!”

[unholyhelbig]

Bechloe Apocalypse AU? I know it's been done before, but damn, do I love a good trope.

[A/N: This prompt has been in my inbox for a long time and I’m just now getting to it. But the main idea is from @auideas] 

Read on AO3 | Request Prompts here 

Beca was always the first to stir in the morning. It wasn’t by the light that streamed through the blinds, but her own biological clock that did it. A seven am on the dot, she would wake and stretch and feel her fingers met with the cold of the house. The blinds were drawn and a little slit of yellow, or sometimes gray depending on the weather, mapped itself on the wooden floor.

They hadn’t done much to the old Victorian manor at the edge of town. It came furnished and the only thing they bothered changing was the sheets on the four-post bed and the towels in the closet. They smelled so thickly of must that Beca made the begrudging trip into town for supplies.

Beca would pad down to the kitchen on the creaky wooden stairs and flicked on the coffee maker. She reveled in the darkness, in the cool relief from the South Carolina air. They kept the central unit on high and thick curtains over nearly every pane of glass in the house.

Chloe would stir an hour after her wife.

Maybe it was the absence of heat or her own lungs filling with dark roast. She followed the scent and grasped at the paper set on the kitchen table. She would skip to the sports section first but would always return to the front page for whatever story they deemed import enough.

“Ah, a firefighter with a cat.” She creased the paper “Charming and quaint.”

Beca grunted as she stood on her toes to grasp two mugs. They also came with the house, covered in dust until she scrubbed them. A cartoonish illustration of teddy bears dawned the front and she couldn’t bring herself to read the cheesy sayings past their first week in the Victorian.

She didn’t’ want to get to know the people in town. It was small enough that she got questioning stares from the gas station clerk whenever they ran out of allergy medication or on the rare occasion, milk. He bit his tongue but studied her face. Doveport South Carolina. Not even on the map.

Chloe figured that this is where people went to disappear. Not when they had fresh blood on their palms and dirt under their nails, but when the dust had settled, and they needed a place to ride out the storm. People lived on boats and deep in the swampy woods. They bought foreclosed homes with cash. They barely went outside, and hell- the air was too stiff.

“Did he pull it from a tree?” Beca asked.

“A storm drain, actually,” Chloe said.

The shorter of the two set down a steaming cup in front of her wife. It was loaded with French vanilla creamer and too much sugar for Beca to stomach. She swallowed two gulps of black coffee and cupped her hands around it to keep in the warmth. The house had to be cold. Though, her nose suffered the most from the stark temperature.

Chloe hummed into the steam rising from her drink “Coleman is supposed to drop of the sample today.”

“Coleman is s douche.”

“A douche with a sample. And besides, he won’t even come into the house. The light is too much for anyone to handle, much less the test slides. He’ll drop it by the greenhouse and be on his way.”

“I don’t even want him in my vicinity, Chlo. His male testosterone permeates the air.”

Chloe didn’t’ dignify Beca’s dramatics with a response. It reminded her of the days when she would run around on playgrounds, crunching over mulch and trying to get away from the boys with cooties. But then she had become a biochemist and even well before that, knew that that’s not how things spread.

Not cooties anyway. Maybe the flu or a common cold, but the only thing men were good for in this century was transporting what they needed. People in Doveport never gave a man a second look. Not when they dawned a hat and had grease on their hands. They wouldn’t question his duffel bag or the scent of gunpowder.

Beca went to take another sip of her coffee but stopped mid gulp when the familiar hum of the central cooling system sputtered to a stop. They had grown so used to the noise and the icy atmosphere. She exchanged a worried look with her wife and lowered the cup. “Well shit.”

“Was it supposed to storm today?”

“No. I checked.” Beca tapped the paper absently before pulling herself from the kitchen table. They didn’t’ have much time before their backup generators would kick on. But those hadn’t either. Not yet. Why hadn’t they? Fuck.

Chloe must have had the same thought. Worry crossed her features before she padded across the kitchen and pulled the door to the basement open. She creaked down the steps and was instantly overwhelmed by the heat that had already begun to fill the sod-coated room.

There weren’t basements in the south. Not usually but they had chosen the old Victorian because it had one in the first place. She walked towards the line of tables that were usually lit by a bluish-purple light. Those had gone off too.

In the stumbling darkness she grasped the samples carefully and placed them in the large freezer under the stairs. The ice that incrusted it wouldn’t’ last long but hopefully this power outage wouldn’t either.  She sealed it. She prayed about it too but wouldn’t’ let Beca know about that.

Science was magic and magic was science and religion fell somewhere in between but it eased her mind to speak to a higher power regardless.

“Chlo! I think you should see this!”

She didn’t waste any time sprinting up the slotted stairs and leaving the musty basement behind. Sweat had formed against her cheeks and made her skin tight when it hit whatever cold air was left in the nearly empty living room. Beca had peeled the blackout curtain back and the light stung her eyes.

“You opened the window?” Chloe asked.

“I was curious.” Beca Said.

Chloe sighed and squeezed close to her partner before she herself pulled back the dark cloth just an inch. Her heart rushes faster and there was a heat leaking through the windows. She hated the south and the lack of silence that it held onto.

It was the same street that she saw once or twice a month when she ventured from the house. There was another house across the way that had been empty since they arrived. There was a cop that lived next door and a nice family adjacent to them. But right now- there was blood.

The patrol car that usually sat in the driveway was turned on its side and a mass of guts and blood and teeth stirred in the front driveway. She saw fingers flick and smelled fire, or gas, or a mix of both. It made her throat burn.

A stranger, a man in fishing waders had half of his face missing and a dead look behind his yellowed eyes. He limped and groaned tepidly, continuing like he was going on a stroll. His jaw swung back and forth as a clock and Chloe grimaced.

“Well damn.” She let the curtain fall, “This is bullshit we were so close.”

“I know, but someone else was closer.”

Beca walked back towards the kitchen and grasped her now chilled cup of coffee. She finished it off and grabbed the newspaper, looking at the smiling face of the firefighter with a burnt-looking cat in his arms. It was filthy and its fur was matted. She frowned and placed it back on the table.

“Damn government funding. If I could have just gotten my hands on the Amscope.” She grimaced “we’re going to buy you a whole house but you can use a magnifying glass to create a zombie virus.”

“The institution is counting on you, Miss Mitchell.” Chloe mocked.

“Doctor Mitchell, I swear, they always forget that part. You know what we can’t forget? The nine years of our life that we spent getting degrees in science and then another three years held up in this place creating a bioweapon that we didn’t even get to release.”

Chloe lifted her eyebrows and leaned against the adjacent kitchen wall. She had to admit, it was a little disappointing. A letdown after all of this time. But she felt a bit of relief well up inside of her. They would send an extraction team for them at some point and then maybe they would be directed to create a cure. Maybe.

“I think we should get a cat,” Chloe said, picking up the paper and wiggling it towards her wife. “Look at his cute little face.”

“Mm, before or after the apocalypse?” Beca asked.

“During, probably,” Chloe said. “I’d consider a dog.”  

[hopelikethemoon]

The Exam (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Exam Rating: PG-13 Length: 1800 Warnings: Medical procedures (female physical examine, mentions of procuedures related to reproductive health) and discusions of miscarriages, infertility, and other topics related to conception and pregnancy.  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in July 1996. I learned something new about Reader today. So that was cool. Summary: Reader goes to the OB/GYN for an exam. 

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You chewed at a hangnail on your thumb as you perched on the edge of the exam table, looking between Javier and the door. “You know, I ran out of a doctor’s office in a hospital gown once.”

Javier’s brows rose upwards as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest, “That sounds like a story I haven’t been told before.”

“Oh, the stories I could tell.” You laughed, though it didn’t quite reach your expression. “My mother was being… her usual self. I got fed up with her bullshit and decided to peace out. In the hospital gown.”

He snorted, “Somehow I can see you doing that.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth as his eyes wandered around the room. 

The walls were covered with anatomical posters of uteruses and Fallopian tubes; gleefully pregnant women and their partners. You watched the way Javier’s face sobered — and you wondered if he was thinking what you were thinking. 

A quick knock gave you a moment’s notice before the doctor and a nurse stepped into the room. 

“I do apologize for the delay,” the doctor remarked as she introduced herself to the both of you. “We had a mother going into labor during her exam. Never a dull moment.”

“Lucky her.” You offered wryly, brushing your hands over your lap, straightening out the hospital gown. 

“Indeed.” The doctor chuckled as she washed her hands, before slipping on a pair of gloves. “Mr. Peña, you’re welcome to wait in the waiting room while we exa—“

“I’d prefer it if he stayed.” You interjected with a shake of your head. 

Javier scratched at his jaw, “I don’t want to be in the way.”

“We’re in this together.” You reminded him, before looking towards the doctor. “There’s nothing we’ll discuss that I won’t tell him later.”

“It’s nice to see a supportive partner,” The doctor remarked with a smile. “If you don’t mind laying back, I’m going to begin the exam while I ask you a few questions.”

Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you laid back on the table, the paper crinkling beneath you as the doctor loomed over you. 

“How long have you been trying?”

“Two months.” You answered as the doctor examined your breasts, before moving towards your stomach. “But we’ve never really used protection outside of birth control.”

“And you’ve been pregnant before?”

“We have a daughter.”

“Any history of miscarriages?”

You nodded slightly, “When I was fifteen. I didn’t even know until I went to the hospital.” You tilted your head, your eyes meeting Javier’s. There was nothing but compassion in his gaze. 

The doctor’s fingers pressed into the soft flesh of your stomach as the examination continued. “Any history of sexually transmitted diseases?”

“We’ve both been tested over the years. We’re clean.” You winced a little as she pressed down hard on a spot. 

“Is that tender?”

“Yeah,” You shifted under her touch. “But I’ve got a bruise there.”

The doctor’s brows rose upwards skeptically.

“We’ve taken the trying very seriously.” You admitted with an awkward laugh, “Javi, do you have that chart?”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ as he passed the piece of paper to the nurse, who handed it to the doctor. 

She bummed curiously as she reviewed the past two months. You’d charted out the last day of your birth control, your period, temperature changes, and indicated the days and times of intercourse. If you were thorough in your professional work, you’d gone thoroughly overboard in your pregnancy planning. 

“Now that we’ve completed the external examination, I’m going to do an internal and external ultrasound. Just to ensure that everything looks normal and healthy.” She looked towards Javier then. “I usually recommend that the male partner be tested as well. It’s a simple procedure to check semen count.” 

Javier shifted uncomfortably, “I read the leaflet.”

The nurse stepped out of the room and returned a moment later with a cart that held the ultrasound machine. 

“Did you have any complications during your first pregnancy?” The doctor questioned you. 

“Our daughter wasn’t planned.” You admitted. “Birth control, but no other protection. Easy pregnancy, aside from morning sickness.”

“Beginner’s luck,” The doctor said lightly as she adjusted the stirrups at the base of the exam table, helping your feet into them. “We’ll start with the internal ultrasound. It will feel a bit uncomfortable at first, but hopefully it will help us figure out what’s going on.”

You gave her a thumbs up, turning your head to look at Javier. “Be glad you don’t have to do this part.” You remarked. 

“Trust me,” Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, nodding towards one of the posters detailing an external cephalic version. “I’m already in awe of what women go through.”

There was nothing wrong with you. Everything looked healthy and functional. By all accounts — you should’ve been pregnant. But you weren’t. 

The doctor ran a panel of blood tests that would take a few days to get the results of, but she doubted that they’d reveal anything. Javier scheduled an appointment to get his swimmers counted. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Javier questioned as he settled into the passenger seat. 

“It’s a nice distraction,” You retorted, reaching across the center console to steal his sunglasses off his shirt. “What’s the process?”

Javier huffed, picking you the sheet of instructions he’d been given, “Three to five days without activity.” 

“Glad it’s next week then.” You rubbed your thumbs over the steering wheel, staring straight ahead for a moment before starting up the car. “I’m supposed to start ovulating at some point in the next forty-eight hours, if things are running smoothly.” 

“It seems like I’m the problem here,” Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed as he stared at the sheet. “I figured this was coming. You know, Steve had to go through a whole gauntlet of tests when they were struggling.”

You nodded, “I remember. They both went through the ringer.”

“It says I can bring a guest.” Javier remarked as he turned the piece of paper over and continued reading. 

“I’m sure Steve will be honored by the offer.”

“Really?”

“I feel like there’s a testy joke in there somewhere.”

Javier snorted, “You’re lucky I love your bad humor.”

“I’m lucky for a lot of reasons.” You told him with a smirk. “I’d be happy to help.” You reached over and patted his leg. “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you either. It’s just a matter of timing.”

“Maybe.” He sighed, folding he paper in half, and then in half again before tucking it into the front inner pocket of his jacket. “How are you feeling?”

You made a face as you stopped at a red light, “A bit violated, but that’s pretty normal once the stirrups come out. You should see what happens during a pap smear.”

Javier glared at you, “I read the informational poster. I’d rather not.” 

“It’s fun.” You said dryly as you started through the intersection, making the turn onto the highway. “Thank you for coming today. For staying.” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Javier told you. “Even if it was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life.” 

You grimaced, “I should’ve told you before—“

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s none of my business.”

“True.” You scraped your teeth over your bottom lip. “There was never a time to casually bring it up.” You pointed out, “Hey when I was fifteen I had a miscarriage and I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“When you were fifteen,” Javier rocked his jaw, “I would’ve been already in and out of college, and  settled into the job at sheriff’s office.”

You nodded, “Sounds about right. Twenty-three?”

“Probably twenty-four.” Javier rubbed his hands together as he stared out the passenger window. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” You told him honestly. “That was the first time I’ve thought about it since..” You thought for a second. “Maybe since I was a teenager. It never came up with Josie.” 

“I wish this were as easy as it was with Josie.” Javier sighed. “It’s gotta be me. I’m not exactly young.” 

“You’re not exactly old either.” You rolled your eyes. “Didn’t Hugh Hefner just have a kid at sixty-five?” 

“True.”

“Okay, then it’s probably not you.” You flipped onto the turn signal and merged into the lane for the off ramp that led to your condo. “You’re only forty-five Javier.” 

“I know.” He sighed heavily, sinking back against the seat. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the way he was clenching his jaw. 

“Hey,” You reached over and squeezed his leg. “I think the doctor was pretty impressed by our chart.”

Javier snorted, resting his hand over yours. “We’re gonna have to break our streak when I’ve got to go without you, baby.” 

“But that’s not for a couple days.” You reminded him, squeezing his leg three times. “You should’ve seen her face when she touched the bruise.”

“I’m sure she had a few thoughts on it.”

You laughed, “I’m sure.” In reality — you both knew that that was what happened when you got fucked into the side of your kitchen table. “You know what I don’t get?”

“Hmm?”

“When the doctor tells you that they’ll give you some privacy to get changed…” You said as you turned into your condo parking lot. “As if they haven’t just had a full look at your most intimate parts. Inside and out.” 

“It didn’t look fun.” Javier’s brows rose upwards as he tilted his head to look at you. “You wanna rest? I can handle Josie this evening, when Steve drops her off.” 

“I’ve been through worse.” You shrugged, pulling the keys out of the ignition. “It’s mostly just awkward. I mean, you saw the process. Mostly my stomach’s just a little sore because she prodded at me like it was a deep-tissue massage.” 

“We’ve got a couple hours before he drops her off.” Javier tilted his head to look at you. 

“I know.” You smirked at him. “And we’re home just in time for General Hospital.” It was no telenovela — but damn if you weren’t hooked. 

“You know we don’t have to do this, right?”

“But I want to.” You met his gaze. “It’s probably just a matter of timing.” You wanted this to work — for him. You saw the way his eyes lingered on new mothers with their babies sitting in the waiting room. The way he made conversation with the anxious dads waiting for their partners to come out. 

He’d missed all of that with Josie and you wanted to give him that one thing, after he’d given you everything. 

[periminkle]

Orphic | 02

After moving into your own place, it seems life is finally going your way; the path to independence leading you to a quaint suburban town where even the grass seems to grow a little greener. Although a shocking encounter leads you to believe that perhaps appearances can be quite deceiving.

pairing: hybrid!jk x reader (first person)

genre: hybrid au, angst, fluff

word count: 7.0k

rating: PG-15

warnings: animal cruelty, death, blood, swearing

author’s note: I cut this chapter into two parts bc it was turning into a monster :((( i did try to research DNA and genes and all that fancy stuff but it was too much for my small brain, so beware of inaccurate facts!!! also wanted to say that my heart hurt writing this </3

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The light breeze fluttering through the back door enveloped the bare skin of my legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

I couldn’t recall the last time I lounged around the house in the morning—not flurrying around like a chicken with its head cut off, in a rush to catch the bus. If it wasn’t work then it was grocery shopping, borrowing articles and studies from the library or filling my car’s empty gas. 

Consequently, I refused to change out of the oversized sweater and the lousy pair of bright yellow shorts that currently adorned my laden figure. With any luck, the comfort from the soft articles of cloth would somehow seep into my mental state as well.

Yet the optimistic notion wasn’t proving its validity thus far, becoming a more of a burden due to the lack of a proper barrier between my humble abode and the wilderness outside. 

For the most part, the structure of the door was left unharmed but the handle containing the lock that had been smashed into was another matter completely. Upon further examination, accompanied by an hour of fiddling around with the busted latch, it seemed to be a problem beyond my capabilities. I reluctantly admitted defeat and ordered a replacement. 

With nothing to secure the door to the adjacent wall, it remained slightly ajar.

Another hour whizzed by, scouring through the limited resources at my disposal to—at the very least—find a temporary fix. I tried taping it shut, propping a chair, a step stool and a table up against the remainder of the handle to no avail. 

A stroke of genius hit when I stuck a command hook on the wall nearby, fastening a broken hairband from the latch to the hook. However, the placement of the hook was a little too close and the hairband a little too loose to keep the occasional draft from finding its way inside. My fluffy pokémon shorts provided meager defence at best, but I could hardly spare a thought to the lower temperature when my mind was fully occupied with more urgent matters.

After the run-in yesterday night, I remained by the fridge, shaken from the events that had transpired for longer than I’d like to admit. I was unsure if the familiar sylvan scent that lingered was a result of the stranger or simply a waft from the forest, which wasn’t unlikely, considering my defective door.

Once I’d finally gotten a hold of myself, I dialled the police, doubting that my shaky limbs could safely carry me to the nearest station at such an hour. Other than an aching wrist and some medical supplies that could be restocked, my physical well-being and that of my house were surprisingly fine. 

Excluding my poor back door, of course.

I was rather fortunate that the robbery, if stealing bandages could even be labelled as such, was more mentally taxing than anything. The drops of blood were rather annoying to clean off my tiles too, I guess.

Trying to get any rest that night was fruitless, tossing and turning, worried that the man might return for something more valuable or another fiend finding his way inside to do worse. 

It struck me as more than a little odd that he would come to my tiny cottage, of all places, for first aid supplies. If he wasn’t looking for some extra coins to pocket, why wouldn’t he go to the hospital? Where had he gotten a wound that couldn’t be treated by a doctor? Maybe he had partaken in various illegal activities that couldn’t warrant the suspicion of a governmental figure? Ugh, my brain hurt the more I thought about it.

Along with my raging thoughts, the perpetual feeling of being watched disturbed my slumber as well. It was if another set of eyes were locked on my vulnerable form, peering past the closed blinds and under the protective layers of blankets I’d piled on. No matter how many times I peeked into the darkness though, I was only met with the sight of my backyard enshrouded in the night sky. 

When the rays of dawn broke through the tenebrosity, I abandoned any notion of sleep and hesitantly called Jin, unsure if the busy man was even conscious yet. His bright and cheery voice quelled my worries and I informed him of what had transpired within the past twelve hours. Relief flooded my lethargic frame as he delved into a crazed panic, which I greatly appreciated, accepting his offer to take a day off.

Jin was excessively sympathetic and compassionate, reminding me of a mother goose with how he squabbled over staying somewhere else for the time being and taking a week-long break. But I didn’t want to be a burden on any of my new friends and going back to the city wasn’t an option at this point. Reflecting on the matter for more than day wasn’t necessary either.

I haughtily believed that the criminal didn’t deserve any more free real estate in my mind than he’d already occupied.

In order to comprehend the situation, as well as the fact that I would be utterly useless if I went to work with my mind engrossed in other matters, I thought one day to digest everything and get it out of my system would suffice. Though I knew it would come more so with time, I also had to work on regaining an impression of security within my own walls. 

To take a rest from my turbulent concerns, I made a trip to one of the populated parks within the small town, figuring that I would feel more safety in the numbers that would surround me. Ridiculously, I found myself stumped when I got there, drowning in my own vulnerability, so I promptly headed back.

At nightfall, I skipped out on meeting with the cat yet again. Evidently, I lacked the mental capability to tend to my own needs the day before, never mind another being, thus I didn’t visit the little guy. I felt a wash of regret and worry that I hadn’t even set out some food. As a result of yesterday’s blunder, I put a heaping mass of tuna on the porch this time, hoping the animal would understand my apology. 

The hours flew by as I sat there, stirring in my own solitude. In order to bring the negativity of the day to an end, I invited the trio I’d gotten close to as of recent, although Jin adamantly refused due to his papers that, “wouldn’t write themselves.”

I took the steaming pot of ramen off the stovetop right as the clear ring of the doorbell resounded throughout the cramped place. Hastily, I placed the noodles onto the table with careful hands, grimacing as I realized it took up a bit more than a quarter of the surface.

With a brisk shuffle, I pulled open my front door to the sight of a disgruntled Yoongi, hidden behind the towering stature of a rosy-nosed Namjoon. I barely made out the mutterings of, “it’s freezing out here,” and “took you long enough,” before I was being shoved aside.

As they trudged over to the kitchen, following the scent of freshly cooked ramen wafting around the house, Yoongi scoffed at my tiny table. Since I only purchased two chairs for the space, I cracked open the step stool to act as another seat. I honestly wasn’t sure what I would have done if Jin had tagged along too. Maybe pulled out the ladder too?

The shorter man grabbed the handles of the pot, heading over to the direction of the living room as Namjoon and I trailed after him like baby ducks. “If we’re going to eat like poor college students then we might as well keep up the act and sit on the floor.”

Although Yoongi’s cold and distant facade perplexed me as I was getting to know him, eventually I picked up on the hints of affection he’d drop every once in a while. Mostly, I found that I was able to burn time fooling around with Taemin as he completed enough drudgery for the both of us or a piping hot mug of hot chocolate would be waiting for me in the break room after long hours. 

Even now, though he acted irritated, I knew Yoongi well enough to decipher his true intentions: that he was trying to be considerate of my humble living conditions and opted to play it off as a joke. At this point, I was even inclined to believe he harboured a soft spot for me.

In response, I pretended to be peeved by his actions as I ambled back to gather the bowls and utensils I placed at the table, carrying them to the spot we’d occupied on the floor. It was difficult to hide the growing smile on my face.

Once I’d gotten a few drinks down my throat, I finally felt the tense muscles between my brows and shoulder blades relax, forgetting about the worries that echoed in my head all day.

The TV screen flashed with the intense scenes of an action movie that Namjoon had picked out. I was only half paying attention to the redundant plot line, more interested in the outrageous story spewing from Namjoon’s lips.

“-and now he’s bragging about how one of his puns got milk spilling out of Yoongi’s nose!”

The tipsy state I was in got me laughing harder than I should have, but with both men around me in a relatively similar state of mind, no one seemed to care.

“That’s literal bullshit, Eunmi told me that I was drinking the milk meant for Taemin right when Jin finished telling his dumb joke,” Yoongi complained despite the gummy smile stretching across his features.

I clutched my chest at the mention of one of the creatures who had stolen my heart, “aw, my pretty little Taem, I miss him so much and it’s only been one day!” 

“You’re getting too attached to him Y/N, you know that he’s not gonna stay at the lab forever,” Namjoon lightly warned. I knew he was concerned for my emotional welfare, but even the mention of Taemin being taken away got me stewing in my own misery.

“Joon, why would you say—I don’t even want to think about that!” My inebriated state obviously enjoyed to spill more information than necessary when I stated, “I need to cuddle Taemin enough for the both of them.”

“Both?” The younger man spared a questioning glance at his companion in before turning back to me, “do you have a cat?” The two of them began scoping out the area, trying to locate the nonexistent bundle of fur.

“Oh no, no, I wish I could afford a pet but I think taking care of myself is challenging enough for now.” At their probing eyes, I continued, “I was just talking about a little kitty that visits me every night in my backyard.”

Yoongi’s dark eyebrows scrunched together, a huff escaping him. “If you’re talking about a domestic cat, there’s no way it would be living out there,” he pointed to the forest outside with a tilt of his chin.

With the shake of my head, I felt myself sober up a bit as I explained, “I think it’s just one of my neighbours’ pets.”

Namjoon and Yoongi stared at each other, appearing baffled. “Well, it’s definitely not Eunhyuk, his son is allergic.”

“But you think mean old Sangmin would have a cat? We’re talking about the same guy who refused to have kids because he’s ‘not a bank’ right?”

Namjoon redirected his attention to me. “Are you sure it’s a cat? Maybe you just saw a rat or something.”

“No, it can’t be...” Their insistent refusal planted seeds of doubt that began to fester the longer I thought about it; they both lived here for longer than I had and obviously knew the area much better as well. It wasn’t like I had the best eyesight, anyway. But I remembered the piercing emerald green irises peering back at me, slit pupils honed in on my form with vibrant clarity. “It’s definitely a cat. It has to be a cat.”

A teasing snort came from Yoongi, who was leaning back on his palms with disbelief written all over his face. “You’re just seeing things, Y/N.”

I pouted at their lack of trust in me. An aggressive urge to prove them wrong began bubbling in the pit of my stomach and with a glimpse of the time from the clock above the stove, I noticed that it was well into midnight—around the hour in which I’d meet the kitty.

“Yeah, well, if you don’t believe me you can come see for yourself.”

“Is it outside?” I revelled in the satisfaction Namjoon’s widened eyes brought me and loftily smirked at him.

The plentiful amount of alcohol I’d indulged in forbade my legs from gracefully standing, wobbling like a newborn fawn instead as I fumbled over to the door, slipping the loose hair tie off and yanking the faulty mass open. Strangely, the night air was deathly silent, even the usually chirpy crickets seeming to have migrated to another yard.

“Hey, buddy. You out there?” I mumbled, scanning the bushes nearby, trying to pick up even the faintest flutter. “Bud?”

When I felt two pairs of curious eyes pierce my back, the pressure skyrocketed. I couldn’t let them believe I was spouting utter nonsense earlier, but the lack of response wasn’t proving my case very well.

After a few minutes passed with only the low whistle of the wind to keep us company, I felt a tinge of worry knot itself into my belly. “Okay, that’s enough Y/N. Let’s go back in.”

“No! It’s just scared because there’s a lot of people out now, you two go back in. I’ll call you when it’s out.” Desperately, I examined every inch of the stationary woodlands.

“We believe you, just get back in here! It’s cold and you’re not wearing a jacket, come on.” Namjoon’s long fingers wrapped around my forearm, tugging on my hesitant form.

As the dark-haired male dragged me back, I caught sight of the abundant helping of tuna I’d left on the last step of the porch yesterday. A pang resounded throughout my chest, disquiet settling into the recesses of my mind. Why didn’t the creature eat the offering, was it angry that I hadn’t shown up the last few nights? I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the worst; if it got lost somewhere, collapsed from starvation or was brutally killed by another animal.

If either one of the guys noticed the unusual pile of food, they didn’t comment on it.

Once back inside, tucked into Namjoon’s comforting shoulder and Yoongi’s warm side pressed against mine, I found myself unable to focus on anything of value. It was as if all my senses had dulled to an absolute minimum, barely processing what flashed on the bright TV screen and only picking up bits and pieces of the conversation between the two males. All I could think about was what could have possibly happened to my poor kitty. 

My eyelids began to droop, heavy from the weight of the last few days’ events. With my body molding itself into Namjoon’s sturdy torso, I welcomed the peaceful darkness.

Taemin’s entire body shook from the force of his tiny sneeze and I could have sworn that my heart ceased its endless beating right then and there, was I in heaven? 

Unaffected by my inner turmoil, the baby jaguar started bouncing around, weaving in and out of my legs as if he was participating in his own agility competition. I crouched down to his level to reach for his lithe body. The little guy always transformed into a flurry of excitement whenever I stopped by his cage, elated that he was free to play around without his constricting muzzle. 

Once I’d discovered what a sweet bean he was, I couldn’t help but comply to his wishes. It didn’t take a mind reader to see how he consistently pawed at the contraption, even clawing his face a couple times on accident. 

The reasoning behind all the safety measures wasn’t lost on me though, as I had witnessed the terror he instilled in most of the staff. About a week prior, I caught Minzi trying to lure Taemin out of his cage with some treats, but all her attempts proved unsuccessful when he didn’t even spare a glance her way.

With an annoyed sigh, she reached into the pocket within her lab coat, retrieving a syringe that I knew she had filled with telazol, a tranquilizing fluid for small animals. That prompted a reaction out of Taemin, his haunches tensing and lowering towards the ground, mouth peeling back in a snarl. The low growling sound vibrating from his small body instantly put me on edge; it was the first time I’d ever seen or heard the animal’s anger.

Before I could move a muscle, the irate woman stuck the needle into his hind leg. Taemin yowled in pain, but sunk his claws into her arm when he got the chance, only able to exact his revenge for a couple seconds before his body fell limp. Minzi detched his paw to find a stream of crimson red besmirching her white coat.

Now that I thought back to it, his growl eerily reminded me of the night of the break-in. Funnily enough, I thought the criminal had the more menacing vibration between the two—and Taemin was a jaguar for god’s sake.

What I found truly inhumane was the assistant assigned to handing Taemin his meals. The callous woman didn’t have half a mind to remove his muzzle before placing a handful of dog kibble in his cage. 

At a glance, Taemin appeared severely underweight for his size, but I could have never chalked it up to his nutrition being fed through the bars around his snout. He struggled to attain such inadequate portions that weren’t even created for his species in mind.

Nevertheless, the instant I’d seen his horrifying feeding conditions, I dismissed the careless assistant and took on the task of keeping Taemin alive, a job that I didn’t think someone could fail so terribly at.

Taemin blindly swiped the air, bringing me out of my reverie. I chuckled as I saw he was a just a couple centimetres off the sleeve of my coat and I brought my hand, palm turned upwards, to meet his paw.

His eyelids were shut closed as tightly as they had been the first day he’d arrived at the lab, a fact that Yoongi informed me of when I’d inquired about Taemin’s lack of sight. Neither him nor Namjoon knew why he refused to, or simply couldn’t, open his eyes and my chest ached thinking about the unfulfilling life he was leading.

The memory crushed the lighthearted atmosphere that had arisen from fooling around with the dark-coloured feline. I rubbed the fur covering his foreleg while stealing a glimpse of Yoongi, seemingly hard at work from his hunched form.

“Hey, Yoongs?”

“I thought I told you not to call me that.” The low murmur was slightly muffled from the microscope covering the entirety of his face.

Disregarding his previous statement, I voiced out my thoughts. “What if Taem can actually see? I mean, we could just check whether the PDE6C gene—”

A lengthy exhale interrupted my speech. “Wow, now I guess I know how Jin feels.”

“Listen, I know what you said before but—”

“Y/N, we have tons of gene sequences to analyze, we don’t have time to waste looking for a faulty PDE6C, okay?” He finally tore his gaze away from his work to peer into my pleading eyes, running his fingers through the strands marring his forehead. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you play around considering the amount of work we have to finish.”

At that, I shut my mouth and concentrated back on Taemin’s restless figure, a much better alternative to the DNA waiting to be analyzed at my desk. Since he was confined within his cage all day, I made it my goal to tire him out enough that he would be forced to rest until the next time I had the chance to abandon work, essentially getting paid to keep him amused.

I gently brought his paw to the floor and scurried away to collect his favourite toy; a fuzzy mouse I’d bought one day after discovering the building was devastatingly unequipped to entertain an extremely bored feline.

Although he whimpered at the loss of contact and the sound of my retreating footsteps, I swiftly grabbed the rodent at the bottom of the drawer, by Yoongi’s legs, and hurried back.

Another half hour passed as I tried to exhaust as much of Taemin’s boundless energy as I could, although my plan backfired when I found that my own strength was depleting just as quickly. His natural hunting instincts were definitely still intact, what with the torn up toy in the corner, held together by mere threads at this point. I made a mental note to go shopping for sturdier prey next time.

Presently, he laid on his side as a content, black loaf, purring from the belly rubs he was receiving. To tease the cub, I would pull away every once in a while only to have his long tail wrap around my wrist, tugging my limb back to action.

“Y/N.” My head turned to meet Namjoon who had wandered over from the assistant researcher’s lab where I’d last seen him. “I finished the sequence for his canines. Do you mind leaving it on Jin’s desk?”

I guiltily stood from my seated position, a sheepish grin plastered on as I gave one last pat to Taemin’s head. “Yeah, of course. Could you lock up Taem for me?”

With his affirmation, I took the papers from his grasp and gave a pat to the crown of Yoongi’s bleached head. He shifted towards me in feigned annoyance, but I was out of his reach before he could get back at me and I celebrated my victory with sticking my tongue out.

I began to make my way upstairs, but not before picking up on Joon’s exasperated remark to Taemin, “I hope you know that I could build you from scratch if I wanted to.”

Once in front of the familiar wood of Jin’s office door, I decided to knock in case he had guests. I restrained the awkward memory of walking in on the whole board of directors from resurfacing and distracted myself by rapping my knuckles with more force when there was no response from within. “Jin? It’s Y/N.” I pushed the handle down and pleasantly found it unlocked. “I’m coming in.”

I waited a couple more seconds before opening the door, meeting the chaos that was the assistant director’s office. As per usual, I winced at the mountain of papers piled upon his desk, astonished that it only seemed to grow since the last time I’d seen it. At this rate, I was just waiting for the day that I’d walk in here to see the towers reaching the ceiling. 

Striding over to Jin’s side of the desk, I laid the notes down in the dead centre, resting on top of three separate piles. Sympathy flooded my senses as my gaze roamed across the masses. How could such a hardworking individual accumulate so much work while he was working? 

Even staring at the copious amounts of print made me feel queasy, hence I hurried to get out of the nauseating area. But, as I scuttled by, my gaze caught on a file with thick, messy letters scrawled on the front.

Jaguar.

To say my curiosity was piqued whenever Taemin was involved was an understatement. After a glance back to ensure that I was able to safely snoop around until my heart’s content, I reached for the file, making sure to keep my posterior to the camera in the corner, concealing my actions.

Ultimately, I knew Taemin was brought in to make progress on their “top secret, strictly confidential experiment,” which meant that I wasn’t to touch any of his files. At least, according to the brusque Minzi I wasn’t. However, an underlying, devious part of me enjoyed rebelling against her words and I secretly rejoiced as I directly disobeyed her orders, opening the folder.

Basic information was scattered along the first page, his name, birthdate, birthplace, so on and so forth. I casually flipped through the rest, finding the documents we routinely handed off to Jin when we’d written down sequences that brought about certain genes concerning the jaguar. This was probably where Jin would store the note Namjoon had made me deliver.

Losing interest, I flipped the bulk of the papers back to the front and seamlessly slid them into the file. When I unintentionally skimmed the first page once again, my eyes caught on a baffling sentence.

Heightened sense of sight, especially keen night vision.

I wet my suddenly chapped lips in my state of bafflement, double and triple checking that the file was indeed for seemingly blind Taemin; the very same animal that was probably napping downstairs. The statistics even matched up with what little knowledge I had about the animal, sending me into a greater spiral of confusion. They must have accidentally written the observation down on the wrong paper.

Unless...? 

I shook my head, trying to dispel the outrageous thoughts swarming my mind.

Heading back down, I caught sight of Yoongi still wrapped around his microscope, jotting notes down with his other hand. My attention shifted to the unconscious feline next, muzzled and locked behind bars.

My fists clenched, fingernails engraving crescents into the palm of my hand as I resolved to finally clear out these murky waters.

An hour passed before I finally located it and then another few hours slipped by as I examined the sequence.

The PDE6C gene on chromosome ten. Perfectly intact and working exceptionally until the halfway point, around the thousandth base. Some of the letters got mixed up, binding with incorrect base pairs and bestowing Taemin with his current lack of vision. 

Of course, I was prepared to deal with the repercussions of wasting precious time, examining a sequence that did not correlate to any favourable gene. But after connecting some dots, I recognized the agent that brought about such errors.

Ethyl methanesulfonate, or EMS for short. A chemical mutagenic that induces base substitutions, mutating the DNA molecule as a result. I couldn’t imagine why they’d inject a carcinogenic compound into the mammal, but it obviously had something to do with trying to enhance his natural vision. 

Did they think the possibility of disabling him was worth the slim chance that his eyesight could improve? By the bases that were effected, I guessed that they were trying to sharpen his sight when submerged in darkness. If the guanine alkylation hadn’t spread so far, they might have succeeded in their experiment.

Nevertheless, their hypothesis was dreadfully incorrect and Taemin was blind as a result of their recklessness.

My grip on the pencil tightened in pure, white fury. In the fruitless hope that the EMS hadn’t affected his whole body, I took several samples of cells from various areas of his body. Albeit, samplings of his cheeks, ears and legs all provided the same conclusion that I’d reached earlier—deformed DNA from ill-fitting base pairs. 

All the blood drained from my face from the appalling notion of just how much EMS they must have injected into his blood stream for it to have tampered with every cell in his body. My jaw clenched as my mouth ran bone dry.

They mutilated him.

Digust washed over me, for the false claims that the lab protected their lab animals, for every ruthless employee that harboured such barbaric morals, for myself, who blindly assisted in the cruel methods of this place. My heart rate picked up at my own helplessness, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I scrambled out of the corner I had holed myself up in.

I didn’t know if it was the bruising despair or the fuming rage that had me stomping my way across the halls, headed for the director’s office. The rational part of me was aware of the fact that I couldn’t do anything, change their twisted morals or bring down that metaphorical sword of justice that I was so fixated on. But that didn’t mean I had to play along as a clueless, complaisant pawn in their gruesome experiments.

Keycard or not, I was determined to wreak havoc until I could properly screech obscenities at one of the incredibly asinine brains that ran this revolting laboratory. Storming past the Namjoon and Yoongi’s office, I picked up on a shrill cry that seemed to douse my whole body in ice water, stopping me in my tracks.

A turn to my right gave me a direct view of Minzi struggling to pull a semi-conscious Taemin out of his cage, arms which he desperately wriggled against, thrashing violently to escape her hold. Now knowing what malicious behaviour deserved such treatment from kind-hearted Taemin, I rushed at her. 

“How could you!” I roared, seeing red when she turned, glaring condescendingly.

Her calculated eyes examined my rapidly approaching, ruffled figure. “Oh, good, I needed a coffee. Could you fetch me a tranquilizer while you’re at it? I didn’t think he would wake up.”

I grit my teeth as my temper flared, resentment embedded into each of my features. Stopping a step away from her unbothered form, I seethed out, “you guys claim to look after the lab animals? Then why would you permanently damage his genes!”

“What have you been wasting time on instead of researching what we told you to?”

“Answer the question!”

She sneers. “I thought I warned you to stay out of anything that doesn’t concern you. That includes any testing subjects.”

“Testing subjects? How the hell do you think you can get away with—”

“Woah, what’s all the ruckus here?” Hyunho’s lazy form strolled in with a lax yet domineering countenance. The appearance of the other head researcher made my hair stand on end. “Do we need to put up a sign to remind some people that they’re to use indoor voices inside a laboratory?”

My eyes quickly narrowed at his patronizing remark. “I don’t know what kind of fucked up project you guys are conducting, but if you’re harming innocent animals, I don’t want any part of your imbecilic research.”

“Ooh, it seems that newbie is a feisty one, isn’t she?” He took a step towards me, the scent of a cigarette he probably smoked earlier invading my senses and invoking an appealing urge to regurgitate my dinner all over him. “Listen here girly, I don’t know what you’re trying to accuse us of here, but I’ll be sure to report your unruly behaviour to the director if you keep this shit up.”

“As if I give a flying fu—”

A hand wrapped around my mouth before I could unleash the rest of my resentful spew. “Ah, Dr. Lee.” I recognized the subtle undertone of panic in Namjoon’s deep voice as he addressed the burly man with respect that he didn’t deserve. “You see, Y/N had a pretty rough day, some family matters back home, y’know? I’m just going to take her outside to clear her head a little.”

“Yes, that would be a good idea.” Hyunho stepped back to Minzi’s side.

“If you would excuse us then...” I flailed about in Namjoon’s sturdy hold before he all but manhandled my to the back entrance. The refreshingly cool air grazing my overheated skin quelled some of my fury, although I felt its presence simmering beneath the surface. The tall man released my trembling limbs and I whipped my head over to examine Namjoon’s concerned countenance. 

Did he know?

I couldn’t bear the thought of any of the limited friends I’d made in this place willingly taking part in such horrid research. They couldn’t have known. My heavy head fell into my hands, thinking of innocent Taemin who didn’t merit the attention of these corrupt individuals, who had no one to protect him. 

If I quit my job here, would anyone care for him? Obviously his basic needs would be met, Namjoon and Yoongi would make sure of that, but were they aware of what exactly that experiment entailed? I’d only scratched the surface, but the prospect of finding out every gritty detail terrified me.

I felt an overwhelming weight crushed me, being helpless beneath it all. “Joon,” I managed to croak out, “I didn’t come here for this.”

With the low volume of my voice, I didn’t know how much he’d heard, but a tug on my wrist enveloped my body into his embrace. As he stroked my head reassuringly, I held onto his thin lab coat with clenched fists.

If it meant I could save Taemin, I would keep my mouth shut. If it meant I could act as some salvation to each animal that came into this wretched place, I would stay.

My disgust for the laboratory only multiplied.

“I didn’t come here for this.”

A pleasant tranquility took shape after a brief greeting had been exchanged, both Jin and I on a well-deserved break after too much time cooped up in our respective offices. Well, even though the assistant researchers’ office wasn’t technically mine in title, the majority of my belongings resided in that space. Namjoon didn’t mind much and Yoongi complained about everything under the sun, so I made myself comfortable there. 

The hum of electricity powering the building and the whirr of the coffee maker spurring into action intensified as I closed my eyes, resting my head against the back of the sofa. I stared up at the ceiling with a vacant expression and tried to clear my thoughts for a bit.

A ceramic mug clinked against the surface of the coffee table in front of me. “Drink.” I lifted my head to take in the reassuring crinkle in Jin’s eyes. “You look like you’ll need all the energy you can get right now.”

I scoffed at his statement, the end of my own lips flitting upwards. “Just tell me I look like shit.”

Gratefully accepting the cup of coffee, the bitter taste on my tongue already started to rejuvenate my aching muscles. Jin was aware of my deep-seated aversion to the drink, but I guess my appearance revealed too much of the chaos inside my head. “I was going to, but I had a feeling you might just break down if I did.”

Although the work itself was tedious and relatively tiring on its own, the fact that all my efforts were going to fuel that wretched project made me feel rotten to the core. The knowledge sapped my stamina at an exponential rate that I wasn’t accustomed to.

“How’s baby Yeri doing?” I placed the pungent beverage back down, stroking my chin in faux deliberation. “Or I guess I should ask how Chaeyoung is holding up instead, huh?”

Jin let out a hum of aggravation around his own glass, swallowing the liquid before slapping his unoccupied hand against his thigh. “Don’t even get me started. Chaeyoung keeps telling me to take some time off work to come help, but honestly I would take the peace and quiet of the office over Yeri’s nasty diapers any day.” He shook his head at the thought, repulsed by the dealing with another one of Yeri’s accidents.

I’d heard the story one too many times not to let a giggle slip at his misfortune.

Abruptly, an alarming shriek disturbed the placidity. As my head shot up to identify the source, the sound was muffled, then silence resumed. I scrambled to discern who the perpetrator was when my gaze met Jin’s static form. “Did you hear that?” When his weary eyes met mine, appearing confused, I clarified, “that scream.”

“Oh, they probably just dropped something. Don’t worry too much about it.” But I couldn’t find a trace of compassion in his words, especially with how gut-wrenching the shout sounded. Rather than shock, every note was filled with agony and something felt vaguely off about the whole ordeal.

The look of guilt that Jin sported stopped me from prodding. I refused to believe the stubborn man who was always drowning in papers to complete, shoving fried chicken down his throat like there was no tomorrow, who had the sweetest daughter back at home knew anything about the experiment. Not what was really happening.

That’s why the regret and shame written all over his countenance made me pause.

More shuffling, whimpers and yelps filled my limbs with apprehension, seeping deep into my bones and making me restless. Jin kept his gaze trained on the floor, unable to look me in the eye as he excused each sound with the fault of a clumsy, irresponsible researcher and other rationalizations that I wasn’t sure he, himself, believed. 

At this point, the raucous was becoming increasingly bestial and I couldn’t decipher the species that was belting out the miserable noises. I tried to grit my teeth and ignore them, distracting myself with Jin’s moronic cover-ups to keep me glued to my spot. Without a keycard, I had no access to the upstairs lab anyway, it was out of my hands for now.

When my thoughts strayed to Taemin though, I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach, recalling how I had been dragged away before I could stop Minzi from taking him. Suddenly, I lost the ability to think logically, fixated on Taemin’s well-being. I had to know if it was him.

Hastily, I jumped out of my seat, coffee long forgotten as I sprinted down the hall. Jin’s pounding footsteps followed after me, though I gave them no mind.

Once I reached the first floor, the sight of two unfamiliar men dressed in heavy gear greeted me. The bulkier of the two lifted the cage as if it were as light as a feather and I noticed how unusually clean it was. “No, you can’t take it upstairs!” I grabbed onto the bars, halting him in his tracks. “Where is he? Tell them to bring him back here!”

“Sorry, no can do miss,” he drawled out. “We were asked to—”

“I don’t care what you were asked to do! Tell them to bring him back!” He rolled his eyes at my accusatory tone and yanked the cage out of my grasp. As I reached out again in a frenzy, the other man blocked my path. The odds weren’t looking too great for me.

I saw Jin emerge from the staircase, following the ruckus I’d created. Relief flooded my veins as I sought his backup. “Jin, they want to take his cage.” Pursing my lips, I pointed to said object. “Could you tell them to leave it here?”

“No, Y/N. Get out of the way.” My breath hitched at Jin’s steely tone, locking onto his fatigued gaze. I tried to remind myself that he was oblivious to the horrors that they’d already inflicted upon Taemin, but the back of my eyes still burned at the betrayal I felt. “Come on, let them do their job.”

Though I refused to show how dismayed I’d become, I couldn’t bear the idea of Taemin residing upstairs, where they could inject anything without suspicion. “Please, Jin. Please. Believe me when I say that he won’t last a day up there.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, let’s go finish our coffee, hm?” I huffed out through my nostrils in frustration, wringing my fingers together as I debated whether or not to tell him the truth I discovered for myself not too long ago.

“Oh, my. What’s this? I believe I told you what would happen if you caused a commotion again, didn’t I?” Feeling defeated already, I didn’t even turn to meet Hyunho’s form as I heard him approach. “I’ll need you to get out of the way now, girly.”

“It’s Y/N.”

His fake grin put his crooked teeth on full display. “Yes, yes. Scurry along now.”

“No.” With a hardened resolve, I glared back at him. “Bring Taemin back. Let him stay on this floor.” Hesitant but desperate, I added a barely audible, “please.”

At my plea, he brightened up, utterly pleased with watching me grovel at his feet. “You should use that tone more often, newbie, it could really get you places.” The stealthy once-over of my chest didn’t go unnoticed by me and I wrapped the lab coat around me tighter. He pulled back a little, satisfied with my discomfort. "You didn’t hear? He died of natural causes, so we have to clean up this mess for the new tiger cub coming in. Don’t worry though, he’ll be staying on this floor when he gets here.”

I took a step back, skin stinging as if he’d slapped me across the face, feeling my blood run cold. Out of the corner of my eye, I noted the bewilderment reflected on Jin’s features, as well as the sudden appearance of Namjoon and Yoongi, both looking as distressed as I felt.

When my breaths came in heavier and burning droplets rolled down my cheeks, I knew the dam had broken. “Don’t feed me that bullshit... You monsters.” I felt my bottom lip quiver as my voice cracked. “Killed him.”

One of Hyunho’s thick eyebrows raised in amusement at my shattered state. “Haven’t you been taught not to mess with fire, girly?” He crossed his arms after giving a flick of dismissal to the man still carrying the cage. “You could get burned.” 

A pair of arms wrapped around my torso and dragged me away before I could wail anything out. Through the blurry mess of tears, I made out a discarded, mangled mouse toy by the corner.

tags: @aurorakingsley​ @bubbletae7​ @iamunrecognized @bangtanloverrrrr​ @walkingdeadfan25​

[general-kenobi357]

Someday Soon-Chapter 8

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!OC

Summary: Tensions rise, as the gold seems closer then ever the Pogues feel themselves being pushed away from one another.

Notes: Back at it again with a terrible summary. Though I suppose at this point in the fic you probably know if you want to keep reading.

Word Count: 2.8k

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I could remember sitting outside with my friends under the bright lights that now covered John B’s yard and I could vaguely remember falling asleep on JJ’s shoulder. Exhausted from the long day it was easy to fall asleep. What I could not remember was how exactly I had gotten from the backyard into a bed. But my questions were answered as the strong arms that were wrapped around my waist tightened slightly as JJ woke up. As I became more awake I recalled last night when he had ushered me inside, half asleep when the temperature had dipped a little too low to be comfortable.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, as I turned to face him. His eyes were still closed and half of his face was pressed into the pillow he laid on.

But was it a good morning? The events of the previous night replayed in my head on a loop. Aside from the fact that JJ had completely broken down, I couldn’t help but wonder where our relationship stood. It was clear that we were no longer just friends but what were we? JJ had never been one for relationships and the only real relationship I had had lasted all of one month. What would happen next? Where did we go from here?

The many questions running through my mind were pushed away when JJ lifted his head to look at me before leaning down to press a kiss to my cheek. The action brought a smile to my face and I decided to stop worrying even if it was only for a little while. For now I would just enjoy the time we spent together. After we got the gold we could talk about us, on a beach far away from here.

I decided that it was time to start the day. We had a couple things that needed to get done before we returned to the Crain house.

“Where are you going?” JJ groaned as I left the bed.

“I'm getting ready, we can’t stay in bed all day.” I responded with a smile.

“We could if you got back in bed.”

The look on JJ’s face almost got me back in bed but I knew that I shouldn’t.

“No, come on. Don’t you want to get rich?”

“4 mil’ rich?”

“400 mil’ rich.” I corrected him. “But in order to do that we have to get out of bed.”

“Fine.” JJ finally huffed. I smiled back at him before making my way out of the Château to go see if Pope needed help with whatever he was setting up in the backyard.

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It was clear that Pope didn’t really need my help but he still asked me to stay close incase Kie needed help getting down. While Pope started setting up the controls, I watched JJ finally leave the Château and make his way over to the hot tub to watch Pope work from afar.

“So what’s up with you and JJ?” Kie asked snapping me out of my thoughts.

“What?” I asked, unsure of how to answer.

“Well you seemed inseparable last night.”

“Oh yeah, well I’m just trying to be there for him.” I responded, I was trying to figure out whether or not to tell her about the dinner JJ had set up. I figured I might as well, after all she might help me figure out what it meant. “Plus he kind of set up a date for us last night. At least I think it was a date, I mean he told me he liked me and we kissed. Honestly I don’t know where we stand.”

“Really?” Kie asked, a shocked expression covered her features as she paused to think about what I had told her. “Just think about if what you really want is realistic. Whatever happens between you two could seriously mess with the rest of us.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond as Pope called Kie over to help him test out his contraption. I watched her walk away as my brows furrowed in confusion. A few days ago she had let me cry on her shoulder and told me that JJ would come around and we would be fine. Yet now she was telling me to think about what I really wanted cause it might mess with our friend group. I tried to push the frustration I felt for Kie down as I made my way over to Pope to ask how it was going.

“How's it feeling?” Pope asked Kie who was being lifted into the air.

“Feels good.” She responded.

“Taking you down.”

“John B pullin' a Houdini.” JJ spoke up from his spot across the yard.

“Yeah, where is he?” I asked, none of us had seen him and I was beginning to get concerned.

“I got my scholarship interview tomorrow.” Pope reminded us all. “We gotta get this done!”

“Speak of the devil. Hey!” JJ shouted as John B seemingly appeared out of thin air. “Dude, I set up the entire winch to pull up the gold and everything.”

“No, he did not. I did that.” Pope tried to defend, but John B wasn’t listening to any of it as he stormed past us all.

“Okay, that's it?” JJ asked.

“What's that all about?” I added, I was now more concerned after seeing John B than when he was MIA.

“I was gonna ask you the same question.” Pope responded, as we all made our way into the Château.

When we got inside John B was tearing apart the living room it seemed like he was looking for something.

“Are you alright? What... what's up?” I asked as John B continued to tear through the house.

“What are you looking for?” Kie asked, my concerns rising as we watched him.

“Bro, what's going on?” JJ added as John B lifted up the bed and took the gun out of its hiding spot.

“John B, what do you need the gun for?” Pope demanded. “Talk to us!”

“John B, chill!” Kie tried to calm him while he pushed past us all to get back outside.

“What are you doing? What, are you JJ now?” Pope criticized.

“John B, what the hell are you doing?” I asked as we watched him climb onto JJ dirt bike and start it up.

“John B, what the hell?” Kie asked trying to get closer to where he was.

“Ward knows about the gold.” John B finally explained. “He killed my dad.”

And with that he drove off Kie and Pope chased after him for a minute before making their way back to where JJ and I stood. We all looked completely lost as I wondered if John B was really planning on killing Ward to get his revenge.

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Later that night after the sun went down we were camped out on the Cameron’s dock, looking for John B. I wasn’t sure if I hoped to see John B or not, I was worried about him and I wanted to know he was okay but if he really did show up to hurt Ward I wasn’t sure what would happen.

“What now? We just go up to the front door and ask, <Hey, have you seen John B?>” JJ asked us. It was clear that none of us really knew what the point of coming here was.

“Look, he lives at Tannyhill now. It's plausible.” Kie said, she had been the one to suggest that we come here.

“We can try to play dumb.” I added.

“Play dumb? It's pretty late” JJ reminded us.

“Look, I've never seen John B like that. We should honestly be going to the cops.” Kie said.

“The cop... Yeah, and say what, Kie?” JJ started ranting. “We're worried about our friend because he's on a rampage because Ward Cameron killed Big John? Like, they're not gonna believe us!”

“Hey, I see Ward.” Pope cut off JJ.

“Let me see.” Kie said as Pope passed here the pair of binoculars he had brought.

“Doesn't look dead to me. Let's go home.”

“Wait. What?” Kie asked.

“Uh... Okay. Obviously, Mr. Cameron is fine, and even if John B was here, he isn't now, okay?” Pope began to explain. “Plus, I have the biggest, most important moment of my life in six hours.”

“Yeah, well, our friend is in trouble.” Kie tried to argue

“I'm in trouble.” Pope reasoned. “Guys, I haven't been home in three days. My dad's probably put all my shit on the street by now.”

“Okay, so that's it?” Kie asked, every time she added to her argument I began to side with Pope more, John B was not the only thing we all had to worry about. “In a time of need, you're just gonna bail? You're just gonna walk away?”

“He’s not walking away.” I spoke up moving closer to the arguing pair. “We can’t all constantly worry about John B when there’s other shit going on and we don’t even know where he is.”

“Okay, yo, guys, can we not do this right now?” JJ tried to break up the fighting.

“Hey, I have a scholarship interview in the morning.” Pope reminded us. “I can't…”

“Okay, well, what about John B?” Kie asked.

“What about him?” I countered.

“Why is it always about John B?” Pope questioned.

“It's not always about John B.” Kie stated. “It would be any of you in this situation.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Pope said.

“This is about friendship.” Kie spoke but I couldn’t help but think if that were true then she would be thinking about Pope’s problems as well as John B’s.

“Bring it down.” JJ spoke up still trying to calm us all down.

“Look, this is about Pogues for life.” Kie tried to tell us, I rolled my eyes as she said it. It was like she wasn’t listening to her own words.

“What about forensic pathology, huh?” Pope asked desperately.

“Forensic pathology?” Kie responded as if she didn’t care at all.

“It's my life. Everything I've worked for.” Pope reminded her.

“That's your priority?” Kie asked as if Pope’s future didn’t matter.

“Stop the moral high ground bullshit!” I finally snapped, moving closer into Kie’s space.

“Iz, come on. No.” JJ tried to stop me by placing a hand on my arm.

“Excuse me? No, no. She has no room to talk.” I asked, brushing his hand away. “Where were you when Big John went missing? You weren't there.”

“You weren't there for John B. You weren't there for any of us.” Pope added to my argument. “Remember your Kook year?”

“Yeah, you forgot about us.” I reminded her. “Now you feel guilty.”

“Give me a break.” She muttered trying to move past us.

“That’s what you need?” I asked, blocking her way. “You need a break? Cause none of us get a break according to you.”

“Move!” Kie yelled back.

I felt like I was ready to swing at her when JJ finally stepped between us, stopping the argument.

“Hey! Yo, yo, yo, cut it out, all right?” JJ started to chastise us. “If I'm the one mediating, we've hit rock bottom. Kie, bow, now. Pope, Iz, stern.”

As I followed Pope to the back of the boat I could hear him muttering about his interview. I felt like I had made things worse when I just wanted to help him. I also wondered how much of my anger with Kie was about our priorities and how much of my anger was due to what she had said about JJ and I.

“Pope, I'll drop you off.” JJ broke the silence before starting up the engine and pulling away from the dock.

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The next morning everyone was gathered on dock at the Château save for Pope who I assumed was doing his interview right now. I was sure it was going well, he had been preparing for it all summer, but I couldn’t help but worry.

“You sure he got everything?” Kie asked from across the dock. We were yet to speak to each other since last night and I wondered how long it would take for us to make up.

“Every bar.” John B confirmed his story again. “The whole enchilada. Look, it's not like I expected a happy ending or some shit.”

“John B…” Kie trailed off as we watched him rip apart his cast that wrapped around his hand and arm.

“What, Kie? It's a hairline fracture. Who cares?” He asked as if it was nothing.

“You should care. Your arm's gonna be messed up for life.”

“It's fine. See?” John B showed her, moving his hand as if that proved the bones had healed.

Their discussion was cut off by Pope who was barreling down the dock towards us all.

“Oh, God. I ran all the way here.” He explained, after he reached us all, trying to catch his breath.

“You all right?” I asked, concerned by his behavior.

“How was the interview, Pope?” JJ wondered.

“Don't ask.” He waved off our questions, still trying to catch his breath. “Look, I'm sorry, dude. About everything. But... but I don't have a lot of time, and... and I have information that is tactically relevant.”

We all looked at each other waiting for Pope to continue.

“So, before I had my interview, my dad said he was going down to the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron's big plane. Because it was too heavy, it needed a longer landing strip to take off. So, I'm there sitting in my interview, thinking to myself, <Hm. Why would Cameron need a longer airstrip to take off? What could be so heavy to weigh it down?>” He paused as we all thought about the question.

“Gold.” John B realized.

“Exactly.” Pope confirmed.

“Guys, this is our chance, but if it leaves tonight, and we have to go. Guys, we can't give up now.” John B said, looking around to make sure we were all in.

“What's the plan, big man?” JJ asked with a smile.

“We're gonna steal that shit back.” John B reasoned before we all took off towards the van.

“Let's do this!” Pope shouted excitedly, I felt hopeful that we were finally going to get the treasure and complete the hunt we had been on.

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The sun streamed into the van as we flew down the road in hopes that we would be able to beat Cameron's plane from taking off. After the excited shouting had quieted down my worries began to set in about what we were actually going to do to stop Ward.

“So what exactly is our plan here?” I asked the others as I watched JJ load bullets into his gun.

“We go in there, guns a-blazin', make Ward Cameron beg for mercy, abscond with as much gold as possible and vámonos, get the hell out of there.” JJ explained.

“Down the Intracoastal.” Pope added.

“Wait for weather.” Kie continued.

“Exit to Cuba.” Pope finished.

“Cuba?” JJ asked, setting the gun down. “No, man, Xcalak, Jewel of the Yucatan. Lobsters so thick, mangoes, and no word for money.”

With a smile on my face I rolled my eyes at him mentioning Yucatan again, ever since he had gotten a good grade on a project about the Mexican state he brought it up whenever possible.

“Let's do this shit.” John B spoke up as we pulled up next to the airstrip.

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We were standing outside of the fenced airstrip trying to come up with a plan up until John B had spotted Sarah being dragged onto the plane and had promptly created his own plan.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Pope asked as John B started up the van.

“Don't be a hero, dude! John B!” JJ tried to stop him as the wheels of the van squealed and he drove right through the fence.

“What is he doing?” I muttered while the others kept screaming for him to come back.

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As we stood near the airstrip waiting for John B to come back, I wondered what he was planning to do now that he had stopped Ward from taking off. As they began to argue we heard sirens approaching from behind us. We all turned around, my anxiety was bubbling up as I hoped that the others knew what we should be doing.

“Guys, I can't get arrested. I'm on probation.” JJ reminded us.

“Look, we're no good if we're all in jail.” Kie reasoned as we all prepared to take off.

“Come on.” Pope spoke up, guiding us somewhere we could hide out while we waited for John B.

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