#and have to go stand near the bin because I feel like I’m going to throw up

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Would really love it if now that my brain is behaving more my body would get the memo too

[coveted-covey]

Word count: 2,161

Living near a beach all their life ideally would have made anyone develop a better immune system than most. 

There’s the warmth of the ever-loving sun, the salty ocean breeze, the fun things you could do on the beach. With that said, you really don’t know what got you bedridden since yesterday night.

*Ah-choo!!*

You quickly grab a tissue from your bedside table, bringing it to your face to blow your nose pitifully. A cough quickly follows suit, shaking your whole being. You gingerly toss the balled up tissue to the bin except that you miss it by a couple of feet. Head throbbing from the hard cough you just had, you huff in annoyance as you slather your hands with the hand sanitizer you have on you.

“Goddd, I hate being sick.”

That seems to be the cue for Mom to knock and come in with a tray of what you could only guess as chicken noodle soup, a glass of water, and medicine. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

You whine despite yourself. “Bad,” you try to sit up slowly when another sneeze hunches your upper body. “Ugh, very bad.”

“Aww, I’m sorry, baby,” she sets the tray on your bedside table then reaches out to feel your forehead using the back of her hand. She hums thoughtfully, “Still hasn’t gone down. Here, eat. The warm soup should make you feel better.” 

She adjusts the pillow behind you and you uncurl your back as she does so. “Where’s Ma?”

Your Mom sniffs and dabs fake tears from her eyes. “You look for Ma while I’m right here? You hurt my feelings, [Name].” 

The scowl you’re wearing must have worked (as much as a half-hearted scowl could) because she adds right after a small endearing sigh, “She had to go to work. You know that she’d have wanted to be here taking care of you instead of going to work, but I already took the day off. You’ll see her this afternoon, okay?” She fixes your hair and kisses your forehead softly.

“Okay. Thank you,” you try to clear your throat. “I’ll feed myself, Mom, no need to worry.” She laughs at that. 

With the food set up on the bed tray, she stands up then gestures to the door. “Then I’ll be outside if you need me.” 

You make a noncommittal sound then start spooning the soup to eat. It’s good. Warm and soothing. You are on your fifth spoonful when you hear the doorbell ring muffledly from the first floor. 

“Hi, Cove!” You hear your Mom’s voice greet the visitor. Your ears instantly perk up at that. Cove? There was a bit of a hushed discussion and then you hear the door close.

Did he leave? You pout at the thought. Maybe Mom made him leave because you're sick. You frown harder at that. But you want to see him…

The spoon is halfway to your mouth once again when you hear a soft knock from the other side of your door. “[Name]? It’s Cove.”

“C-Cove!” you almost choke at your words when a hack disrupts your speech. “Come” –a cough– “in–”

The door opens, your neighbor’s wavy eyebrows downturned as he surveys you.  “I’m here… Are you okay?”

You chuckle at that. “As okay as someone could be with their immunocytes fighting for their life.” 

He laughs airily, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes. “I heard that you were sick. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You look at your phone five steps away from your bed and he follows your gaze. “Something about my phone being literally out of my reach.” You turn to him, “How did you know I’m sick?”

“Liz.” 

“Oh– I may or may not have been complaining to her about wanting to see you but not being able to.” 

“Oh… I was actually almost sent away just now, but I also wanted to see you so I tried to convince your mom to let me stay.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“Thanks for staying.”

“No problem.”

You blink at him, his gaze locked onto your eyes. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t quite place. Almost like–but maybe it’s just your fever making you see things–

“I’m sorry we can’t hang out,” you shift awkwardly. “Weren’t you planning on doing something today?”

He breaks off his gaze from you and moves to bring your desk chair beside your bed. “It’s alright. I-it’s not as fun without you around.”

You look down at the soup starting to cool off on your tray, feeling your cheeks become hotter for some reason. “...I see.” You bite your lip, still not looking up.

Cove sits on the chair and looks at the poster on the opposite wall. “You should probably finish the soup.” 

You regard him, a bit incredulous. “You gonna watch me eat?”

It’s then that you notice he’s not looking at you and that his ears and neck are redder than when he got sunburnt that one time he stubbornly did not put on sunscreen. That only happened once, in your younger years, and you never saw it happen again. Maybe he stayed too long outside before coming to your house. You open your mouth to speak when he responds: 

“Well, not watch watch, that would be weird–! I just thought it’d be nice to hang out here, for a bit, since you can’t go outside and all. And I don’t have to stay if you’d rather be alone; I totally understand–” he gestures wildly, and you feel your hand stretching out to his gesticulating hands.

“Calm down, Cove,” you laugh softly. “I want you here. I mean,” you clear your throat, “Yes, of course we can hang out. Though I’m kind of worried about you catching whatever I have right now.”

Your neighbor stills, looking fixedly at your hand touching his wrist. Then he looks up, seagreen eyes wavering a bit. Softly, he says, “I think I’ll be fine. I’ll stay.”

You grin at him, reluctantly letting go of his wrist. “So what were you doing before coming here?”

He smiles back, then regales you of stories about what he did earlier today as you finish up your chicken noodle soup and take your medicine.

~*~

You fell asleep.

Cove looks at your sleeping figure, seemingly deep in thought. He breathes out a laugh when you wrinkle your nose in your sleep. 

Cute. 

Huh, what?

Man, he should get it together.

He sighs, defeated. There’s something that’s been bothering him lately. 

It’s you. 

He can’t seem to stop thinking about you lately, and it’s driving him insane. 

He finds himself staring at you more. He blames it on how bright and captivating your smile is.

He finds himself itching to touch you more. But you’re best friends. You do touch platonically quite a lot. You hold hands when necessary. (When he helps you go up the poppy hill. When he helps you go down to the beach. When you go to town during the peak summer season and he doesn’t want to lose you in the not-quite-a-crowd crowd. Those are what he considers necessary.) And you do hug. Side hugs are quite normal in your friendship, but lately he does not seem to want to let go.

It’s you, on his mind, 24/7. He’s not sure for how much longer he can take it.

You shift in your sleep, kicking off your blanket. His mind stops whirring at that and stands up to gently put the blanket back over your exposed feet.

Inching his chair closer, he eyes your hand over the blanket and sighs again for the hundredth time in the past hour. 

He wants to hold your hand so bad.

But it’s just right there, open for the taking. He’s almost sure you wouldn’t mind him holding your hand, but doing it while you’re asleep and unaware is making him doubt that.

His hands tremble on his lap. 

He’s gonna do it.

His heart beats faster inside his ribcage and sweat beads on his neck. Slowly and steadily, he outstretches his hand until the pads of his fingers lightly touch the back of your hand. Gently, he flips your hand over then clasps your hand in his.

He wills his heart rate down then marvels at you.

Smiling to himself, he stands and leans down to press a light kiss on your temple.

“Feel better soon, [Name].”

With that soft get well soon wish, he sits back down, your hand in his hand.

Maybe one day he’ll be able to confess his feelings for you. And he’ll get to do it while you’re awake.

~*~

.

.

.

You blink blearily, seeing your bedroom walls shining with a bright orange-pink glow from your window. With a deep sigh, you look at the digital clock you have on your bedside table. It reads 5:37 PM.

Must’ve fallen asleep sometime after eating– And. 

Oh, right! Cove was here.

Your eyes look around, trying to get back to the waking world. Did he leave already?

That’s when you notice a weight on your hand, then you look to your side to see your neighbor, Cove James Holden, asleep, using one arm as a pillow as his other hand holding yours. His seagreen hair almost looked golden due to the sunset hues coming from the window behind him.

Like a moth to a flame, you can’t help but draw your other hand close to touch his hair. You’re about to pat his head when you feel his hand lightly grip the hand in his hold. “[Name]?”

You smile awkwardly at him, caught red handed. You clear your throat. “Uh, good evening?”

He grins at you drowsily, taking your other hand and letting it flop on his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you smile softly. Better since you came here. 

“Hmm, that’s good,” he yawns. “Sorry, I fell asleep here.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Ha, you’re right,” he laughs, eyes shining as he beholds you. “[Name].”

“Hmm?” You continue stroking his now-golden hair, a soft smile on your face.

He looks at you seriously and you see the gears in his head turn and finally decide against what he initially planned. He shakes his head, looking down at your joined hands. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

You nod sagely, then give him a light grin. “It’s okay… Feel free to tell me when you’re ready.”

“I will. When I’m ready.”

With hands comfortable in each other's, the both of you sit in contemplative silence; it's quiet but not uncomfortable. For a brief moment only the rolling waves from the beach and your soft breathing were the only sounds you can hear, then you ask,

“Hey, you did not use the window,” you tease.

He grins, gently pushing stray hair from your eyes, “You're practically bedridden, would you have opened it for me still?”

“Yes.”

Maybe it's because of the way you looked while you said it, or the fact that the answer quickly left your mouth, but your response startles a laugh out of Cove. “I figured. Which is why I didn't. Shouldn't disturb resting patients and all that.” He laughs fondly, adjusting his hold on your now sweating palms. He does not seem to want to let go despite that.

You pout. Is he making fun of you? 

“Sorry, I'm not making fun of you,” he lightly grins, his thumb rubbing at your hand soothingly. “I just really didn’t want to disturb you while you're resting.”

Your heart rate speeds up and your face heats up at his soft admission, leaving you no choice but to look away. God, you really, really hate being sick. Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you, because why is he looking at you like that?

Him and his soft eyes and soft grin and soft hair and soft demeanor looking at you like he’s…

…

“What a charmer,” you mutter under your breath.

Your neighbor’s wavy eyebrows shoot up at that, “What?” His lips wobble into a startled frown and whines, “Hey, I was being serious you know.”

You sigh, then slowly shift yourself up. You do not miss the way Cove immediately stands to help you, his hand still holding yours. You take in the hold he has on you then at him as he settles back down once you’re comfortably sitting up.

“Cove.”

“Hmm?”

You laugh at the feeling of deja vu. Didn’t this happen just a few minutes earlier? You grin at him. “Nothing, I guess I’ll tell you when you’re ready to tell me what you were about to tell me earlier.” You lightly squeeze his hand in yours to tell him that you’re not making fun of him. 

It may be too soon, but you hope he tells you tomorrow when you’re fully recovered.

fic by @coveted-covey (2024).

a/n: slowly experimenting with formatting and stuff. i'm still not sure what i'm doing but i'm getting there! lol

[dilly-oh]

Crush

“Kakashi, for fuck’s sake, it’s your turn,” Asuma growled around his cigarette, holding out the report as they stood in the hallway outside the mission office. “It was your turn the last ten turns. You ain’t squirrelin’ outta this shit again.”

“I need to go water my plants,” Kakashi said, slithering away from the others as he tried to make a quick getaway. Genma stepped to the side, blocking his path.

“Come on, man. That cute Chunin with the ponytail is at the desk. You know, the one you have a crush on?”

Kakashi froze in the act of levering the nearby window open, snapping around to give Genma a look of pure outrage.

“Excuse me?”

“You. Chunin. Crush,” Genma repeated slowly.

“What am I, fucking five?” Kakashi narrowed his visible eye. “I’m a grown-ass man who kills people for a living. I’m feared throughout all the nations as Sharingan Kakashi. I’m a fucking legend. I don’t get crushes.” He paused. “And even if I did have one on him, how would you even know?” Genma shrugged.

“Cuz you’re always walking into walls and shit whenever you’re near him.”

“I do NOT-” Kakashi began, then promptly kicked over the wastebin next to the door, scattering trash all over the floor. Literally everyone in the mission room snapped around and stared at him accusingly.

Even the Chunin. Who was, admittedly, very cute.

“You’d better clean that up,” he said, his tone that of a disapproving teacher about to mete out punishment to an unruly student.

Okay he wasn’t that cute.

…Godammit yes he was.

Kakashi hurriedly shoved all the trash back into the bin, slapped Asuma in the face with the report, and bolted out the window.

---

It kept happening.

Kakashi was just minding his own business, buying groceries at the local market (because even trained killers needed to eat) when he saw the Chunin fondling some melons, and suddenly the pyramid of eggplants he’d been perusing had collapsed, a wave of them tumbling down and rolling all over the floor in a vegetable tsunami. The store manager started shouting and Kakashi decided he’d just order takeout as he slipped out the back exit.

At the laundromat, he caught sight of the Chunin folding his tighty-whiteys and somehow mismeasured the appropriate amount of laundry soap, resulting in the washing machine foaming itself to death like a rabid dog. Kakashi had to put it down with a Chidori and then escape through a window amidst the ensuing chaos.

He knocked down an entire shelf at the library when he saw the other man bending over to reach a low book. He quickly teleported out of there before the man could turn around and see him standing ankle-deep in porn.

Late one night, he was leaping along the rooftops and spotted the Chunin at an outdoor restaurant, seated at a table with friends, head thrown back in raucous laughter. Kakashi sailed through the air, eyes glued to the sight, so he didn’t see the billboard until it was too late.

It couldn’t go on like this.

---

“Okay you might have a point,” Kakashi said. Genma gave a snort.

“Of course I do.”

“I don’t even know his name-”

“Iruka.”

“Iruka? Oh GOD, even his name is fucking adorable.” Kakashi covered his face with his hands and took a deep, calming breath. “…Who else knows?”

“Everyone, Kakashi,” Genma said flatly. “Everyone knows. Even the Hokage knows.”

“Alright then.” Kakashi straightened with a determined air. “It seems pretty obvious what I need to do.” Genma stared at him for a long moment, chewing on his senbon.

“…Actually talk to the man and have a heartful confession about your true feelings?”

“Fuck no. Avoid him for the rest of my life.”

“Oh thank God I thought you were gonna say ‘kill him’.”

“Maybe I should start avoiding you, too.” Kakashi narrowed his eyes. “My plan will work, just you wait. I’m not called a genius for nothing.”

---

“Kakashi, meet your new mission partner,” the Sandaime said, standing in the doorway of his office and patting Iruka proudly on the shoulder.

Kakashi nearly spit out his tea. Through his mask.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he choked out. This mission debriefing had gone to shit, and he’d been sitting there all of five seconds. The Sandaime frowned at him, wrinkles deepening with displeasure.

“I will not have you looking down on young Iruka here simply because he’s a Chunin,” he said firmly, taking a seat at his desk. “What he lacks in experience he more than makes up with sheer determination. He will be a great asset for this two-man mission and I hand-picked him for exactly that reason.”

“Understood,” Kakashi said, switching to mission mode in the vain attempt it would help distract from the overwhelming presence of the other man. It didn’t. Iruka took a seat right next to him, their thighs so close Kakashi could almost feel his body heat. He pushed his chair away a few inches for some breathing room and knocked over a potted plant.

“You two will be travelling deep into the Forest of Death,” the Hokage explained. Kakashi hid a wince. The Forest of Death has worsened over the years, rotting from the inside like a fruit gone bad. It had devolved into a festering jungle filled with mutated beasts that would messily devour their bodies and environmental hazards that would devour their chakra. But as long as they were careful-

Iruka crossed his legs and Kakashi bumped a pile of papers off the Hokage’s desk.

Yeah, they were in trouble.

“Your mission consists of two parts,” the Hokage went on. “The first is to reach these coordinates.” He handed the pair a scrap of paper with a set of numbers scribbled on it. “The second part is in this.” He held out a small, innocuous scroll. “It contains special instructions, only to be read once you’ve reached the site. Not before. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Kakashi said with grim resignation as he accepted the scroll and tucked it safely away. He just needed to get through this mission as fast as humanly possible, then he could go back to smothering his emotions under a metaphorical pillow. It would just be a few hours. He could DO this.

“I’m looking forward to working with you,” Iruka said, giving him a dazzling smile.

Kakashi spilled his cup of tea all over his lap.

…It was going to be a long mission.

---

The trek through the Forest of Death lived up to its name. It was a long, arduous journey through the dark, twisted woods, fraught with danger at every turn. Kakashi was on edge, painfully aware that, with one misstep, nearly everything in the jungle, plant and animal included, was capable of killing him at a moment’s notice.

That is, if Iruka didn’t kill him first.

Kakashi fell on an anthill and suffered a dozen venomous stings when the man decided to adjust his ponytail.

He walked into a tree and was nearly strangled by sentient vines when Iruka wiped his mouth after taking a drink from his canteen.

Kakashi tripped onto a patch of brambles which started actively draining his blood when Iruka raised an arm to wipe his brow and his shirt rode up.

And that was only in the first hour.

Iruka himself was an ideal companion. He followed Kakashi’s lead without question, trusting his judgement and experience with nothing but polite obedience, even attempting to start up a conversation once or twice. After Kakashi bit his tongue trying to reply, he took to ignoring the other man, who quickly caught on and fell into a sullen silence.

I can’t take much more of this, Kakashi thought to himself darkly as he slogged through the mud hours later. Every inch of his body ached, multiple wounds stinging and burning. Or maybe that was just the leeches. Konoha’s about to have a Missing-Nin if we don’t get there soon-

“I think…I think we’ve arrived,” Iruka cut in, checking his compass and studying his map. “Yes, these should be the correct coordinates. We’re here.”

Thank fuck. The nightmare was nearly over. Kakashi slipped the scroll out of his pocket and unrolled it. The orders contained within were rather short and simple. A single sentence. Four words, actually.

Ask him out already.

Kakashi stared at the message for a full ten seconds, then promptly set it alight with a Katon.

"What the fuck!” Iruka cried.

“Meant for my eyes only.” Kakashi stamped on the ashes, grinding them into the dirt. “I was to burn it after reading to leave no evidence.”

“Oh, well, I guess that means it’s my turn to read this one,” Iruka said, pulling out a second scroll from his pack. Kakashi hurriedly snatched it away and ripped it open, scanning the contents.

Pussy.

Kakashi burned that one, too.

“Seriously, what the fuck!” Iruka cried louder.

“Mission’s done, we’re heading home,” Kakashi stated, then turned and took a step.

And promptly sank up to his thigh in the suddenly soupy ground.

…Oh fuck.

“Don’t move!” Iruka shouted in warning. “It’s quicksand.”

“No shit,” Kakashi snapped out, then quickly shut up as he sank to his waist. He went perfectly still, arms out to keep himself afloat in case he sank further. “Calm down, I’m fine.” He closed his eyes, concentrating as he released a flare of chakra to push him free of the mire. The quicksand quickly gobbled up. “…Okay, maybe panic a little, I’m not fine.” The quicksand seemed to have developed a taste, and was now steadily devouring his chakra with a voracious appetite. “Okay, panic a lot. It’s draining my chakra.”

“Damn, hold on.” Iruka started rifling through his pack and pulled out a coil of rope. “Here, we’ll use this to get you out- actually wait, I think you’re close enough for me to reach out and grab you. Quick, give me your hand-”

Iruka stuck out his hand. Kakashi’s stomach did a little flip.

“Fuck no, I’m not touching you. Throw the rope.”

“What is your problem with me?” Iruka demanded. “I hardly know you and you already hate me.”

“I do not hate you,” Kakashi ground out through gritted teeth. “Throw the damn rope.”

“Not until you tell me what your deal is.”

“There is no deal.”

“Bullshit! You’ve been cold and distant this entire time. You’ve barely spoken a single word to me in hours. The fuck did I DO?”

“Nothing. Throw. The ROPE.”

“Tell me why you’re being such an asshole to me!”

“Because I fucking LIKE you, okay?!” Kakashi finally exploded. The background noise of the forest fell silent at the sudden outburst. Iruka just stared at him.

“…What?”

Kakashi tried to stem the flow of words, but they all came spewing out in a rush like verbal diarrhea.

“I keep walking into walls and knocking over shit and it’s all because of YOU and your dumb FACE and perky ponytail and that fucking dorky way you tuck in your pants-”

���What’s wrong with the way I tuck in my pants-”

“-because I have a stupid fucking CRUSH on you!!”

“God, what are you, five?!” Iruka shouted back. “Why can’t you just say you wanna fuck me like an adult?”

Kakashi gaped at him, flabbergasted.

“ExCUSE me?”

“Admit it. You want me.” Iruka crossed his arms, looking him up and down. “I don’t really get why, though. I’m always yelling at you in the mission room. You got some sort of humiliation kink?”

“Okay, you know what, you can just leave me here-”

“Don’t act like you’re not a pervert,” Iruka snorted. “I’ve seen the kind of shit you read.”

“That’s not the same!! It’s a book, not real life!” Kakashi argued. “Just because I read it doesn’t mean- I would never- look, my dad taught me to be a gentleman, alright?!”

Iruka studied him for a long moment, then tossed him the rope. Kakashi sighed in relief and grabbed it.

“…So we’re not gonna screw after I pull you out?” Iruka asked teasingly. “Not even get a bit handsy? Make out a little?”

“Of course not!” Kakashi squeaked out. “What kind of guy do you think I am?!”

Iruka broke into a huge grin.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable.”

Kakashi let go of the rope.

“Hey!” Iruka hurriedly reeled in the rope, then tossed it out again. It slapped Kakashi square between the eyes, but he didn’t even flinch. “Kakashi. Please take the rope. I don’t wanna have to file the paperwork. There’s, like, ten different forms.” He still didn’t move. “Please.” He just glared. “…Take the rope or I start taking my clothes off.”

Kakashi seized the rope in a death grip and didn’t let go until he was back on solid ground, chakra-depleted but alive. His legs were a bit shaky as he stood, and he was covered in thick, viscous mud from feet to armpits, not to mention the squelching noises every time he took a step.

“Okay, honestly, I’m a little insulted you grabbed on so fast,” Iruka said. “Are you sure you have a crush on me?”

“Will you stop talking about-” Kakashi went to pick up his canteen and accidently punted it into the quicksand. “MotherFUCK-”

“Yeah, okay, I see it now.”

“Look,” Kakashi said wearily, almost dragging a hand down his face before remembering it was coated in mud, “I just want to forget this whole mission ever happened, alright?” Iruka gave him a mischievous smirk.

“You sure you don’t wanna just bone?”

“Bone? BONNNNE?!” Kakashi repeated incredulously. “In a monster-infested jungle?”

“But I brought protection,” Iruka said, then held up a kunai. Kakashi refused to laugh, even though it was funny.

“Forget it,” he snapped. “A mosquito will probably fly up my dick and make it rot off.”

“Don’t worry, I’d suck it out.”

“Okay we are LEAVING-”

“Wanna hold hands while we walk?”

“Correction, I am LEAVING-”

"I’m serious, actually,” Iruka said, holding out his hand invitingly. Kakashi froze, staring at the proffered appendage like it was a bear-trap ready to spring. His stomach did another flip. “Come on, please? I don’t bite.”

Kakashi knew Iruka was just teasing, poking at the embarrassed Jounin with a stick to get a laugh.

Fine. Two could play at that game.

He reached out and took Iruka’s hand, their fingers twining together like old friends.

“…Unless you ask me nicely.”

Kakashi tried to yank his hand away but Iruka refused to let go, so he just reeled him in like a prize catch. Their chests bumped together, and he caught a whiff of the other man, a deep, woodsy scent that sent a shiver down his spine. He froze again as Iruka looked up at him, studying him with those big brown eyes that were not nearly as innocent as they looked.

“You know,” Iruka purred, leaning in even closer, “if you asked me right now…I might say yes.”

Kakashi gulped, throat suddenly dry. He wavered for a moment, uncertainty twisting his guts, then gathered his courage and barged forward.

“Umino Iruka,” he said tremulously, “would…you like…to go out with me sometime?”

Iruka gave him a blank stare.

“…Yeah that’s totally what I meant.”

“Oh my GOD-” Kakshi started to walk away.

“I’m kidding.” Iruka pulled him back, laughing. “Honestly, I’ve had worse first dates.” He looked at Kakashi and cocked his head appraisingly, a gentle smile chasing away the devilish one. “You’re very sweet. It’s refreshing, really. I’m so used to dudes just jumping straight to sex. It’s nice to meet a guy who actually wants to get to know me.”

Kakashi’s cheeks burned beneath his mask. Because it was true. He did want to get to know Iruka, and now he had the prime opportunity. Everything had already been laid bare, all the embarrassing bits hung out to dry. It’s not like it could get any worse.

“Now, let’s get you outta those muddy clothes.”

On second thought, maybe it could.

-End-

Written for @kakairu-rocks KakaIru Valentine's Week 2024, Day 3 Prompts: Crushes and Idiots in Love.

[greatstormcat]

TF141 Hybrid AU

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!oc

Part 3 - The Chance

Master List

TW: MDNI 18+

Lara sat with Gaz and Soap as they ate in the mess hall together. She stared at the food on her plate, thinking back to what had happened with Ghost after the drills that morning, unable to eat anything with the sick feeling in her stomach. Had she just fucked this all up by pissing off Ghost? Her feline ears flicked back with uncertainty as she thought.

“I know the food isn’t great but that’s no reason to starve yourself,” Gaz said, nudging her leg with his boot under the table. She looked up at him with a start, then relaxed again.

“It really isn’t up to much, is it?” she replied, and looked around the cavernous room to distract herself from her thoughts. She got a few interested and curious looks from some people, and down right looks of disgust and distrust from others. Nothing new there then…

“Don’t worry about Ghost,” Soap chimed in as if reading her thoughts. “He’s a big, mean bastard but once you get to know him he’s a teddy bear really.” Gaz nearly choked on the mouthful of food he was chewing.

“A teddy bear? You ever say that to his face?” he asked in a spray of crumbs.

“Away an’ bile yer head. Of course not, and I’ll deny it if you ever tell him I said it behind his back either,” Soap winked.

Lara chuckled at them both, but then sighed. “I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that though,” she admitted, beginning to feel like she had acted childishly. “I just keep getting an odd feeling from him, it puts me on edge anytime I’m near him.”

“That’s Ghost for you,” Gaz replied, waving his sandwich for emphasis. “Freaking people out with his creepy intensity is his trademark. He knows the way to get into people’s heads. It gives him another advantage besides being, you know, fucking massive and deadly.”

“Damn it, I need to go and apologize for firing up at him. He was testing me and I blew it,” she rubbed her face in resignation.

“He is one of the best,” Gaz continued. “I’d take the opportunity to learn everything you can from him. Don’t get on his bad side.”

Ghost grabbed his balaclava and gloves as he heard a knock on his door.

“Who is it?” He yelled as he pulled the fabric over his face.

“It’s Lara,” the muffled voice on the other side answered, and he froze for a moment. If her sense of smell was good enough to detect explosives, was she going to smell that he’d just jerked off? His heart sank in his chest as he berated himself for behaving like a horny teenager, glaring at the evidence of his indiscretion in the bin by his desk.

He took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway with her rather than inviting her in.

“Walk,” he grunted, trying to take charge of the situation. “I’m going to my office and we can talk there.” She blinked in surprise but followed along quickly enough as he tried to distance her from his room and the cum filled tissue in the waste paper basket.

“I wanted to apologise about earlier and clear the air, Lieutenant,” she explained as they walked through the corridors towards Ghost’s office. He didn’t seem bothered by the fast pace he set, letting her make the effort to keep up which she did with ease.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said tersely, stopping abruptly at the door and unlocking it. He walked in, leaving it open behind him expecting her to follow. With a soft huff of annoyance she walked in behind him, closing the door behind her and sat down without waiting for permission just to get on his nerves in return.

“You have to understand that being a Hybrid in a human environment, well it isn’t easy,” she started. He sat opposite her and watched her closely, giving her that weird feeling again that made her fur stand on end. “When you demeaned the accomplishment of the team in that exercise I jumped to the conclusion it was because of me, but I realise that might not have been the case now.” There was a hopeful quality to her words, as if she was testing out how he really felt about her presence.

“It wasn’t because of you,” he assured her, feeling a slight pang of guilt in his chest which irritated him further. He was usually so in control of his emotions, but now he was bouncing around from one to another. His temper flared again. “I always push the team to be the best they can be, and you will need to get used to that. I’m not here to hand out participation awards for showing up. If they, and now you, don’t perform to their best you will get killed in the field.” His tone was brusque, the gravel in his voice giving an edge to his words.

She bristled slightly at his response, tail thudding against the leg of her chair. He heard this and caught himself, he couldn’t keep needling her like this just to get a reaction. He sighed and rested forward in his elbows over the desk. “But, I will admit it wasn’t fair… what I said. The three of you did really well, worked together well. You clearly know what you’re doing,” he conceded in a softer tone.

Lara allowed herself a smile at his praise, and she noticed that his eyes widened slightly when she did.

“Thank you,” she replied with genuine pleasure.

“But,” he continued firmly, “you have to understand that we never stop training, improving. It's part of life here.” She nodded her understanding.

“I get that, I do. Thank you for accepting my apology,” she said, feeling some of the tension bleeding out of the air between them.

Ghost sat back and cleared his throat, clearly not done talking. “Now that’s dealt with,” he shuffled some files on his desk and pushed one towards her. “Your first mission.” He said by way of explanation.

“Okay, what have you got for me?” Lara opened the file and scanned through it. There were satellite photos of a patch of dense forest, with a clearing full of buildings in the middle of the frame.

“Laswell requested you go on this one specifically. It's a recon mission to check the validity of claims that a terror cell near the Russian border has got their hands on long range missiles. Strictly recon, no engagement,” Ghost explained. “The terrain is dense forest and mountains, with a single track to and from the site, so it’s going to be several days cross country there and back.”

“Oh, so roughing it. Sounds like my kind of thing,” she smiled, looking back up at him. “Who am I going with?”

“Me,” he said, holding his breath as he waited to see her response. A brief flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, and he saw her thinking it through carefully before she responded.

“That means you trust me to have your back, Lieutenant,” she said carefully. “We will be relying on eachother out there, every second of the day. This is going to be living off the land, climbing, working by instinct stuff.”

Ghost relaxed and nodded. “Correct. I’m taking Price and Laswell’s word on this, they tell me you’re one of the best, and I want to see you in action. This isn’t an easy mission, I’m throwing you in at the deep end. Don’t disappoint me.”

There was a flash of challenge in her eyes at his last remark, and he nearly groaned. He covered his reaction by leaning back in the chair, the frame creaking ominously below his weight.

“I wouldn’t dare disappoint you, Leuitenant,” she smiled, her voice almost a purr of happiness which sent Ghost’s blood pressure through the roof.

“Great, take the file and go start getting familiar with the intel we have already. We will start planning the op tomorrow morning,” he replied. “Training will be stepped up as well so I know you are fully ready.”

She collected the file and nodded to him before leaving his office. Her tail now moved languidly behind her as she walked, echoing the movement of her hips.

“Shit…” Ghost groaned after she closed the door, and let his head fall back.

————————————————————————

Comment below for taglist

@amygaster004 @catkatchuck @vellicora

[niki-phoria]

Sorry. I was talking about the birthday request for jay.

- 🕊️ anon

happy birthday jay <33

pairing: jay x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 910

includes: the rest of enha, probably inaccurate description of the seoul airport lol

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i'm so sorry this took so long, i wanted to post it on jay's birthday and i didn't really have any ideas :// but i hope you like it :))

summary: surprising jay for his birthday

requests open !! read my rules first

you sigh in relief as the plane finally lands, attempting to stretch out your legs as much as possible in the confined space of your seat. you pull your phone out and power it on, watching as the screen fills with messages from a variety of people and the notifications you missed during the hours-long flight.

spending the extra money to sit near the front of the plane is all made worth it when you’re one of the first people to leave. you reach into the overhead bin, quickly grabbing your suitcase and swinging your backpack over your shoulder before following the line out of the plane and into the seoul incheon airport.

once finally outside in the afternoon air, you pull your phone out of your pocket and click through your contacts until you find jake’s name. he answers the call almost immediately; the excited glint in his voice is nearly impossible to miss. 

“are you here?”

“yeah,” you say. “i’m outside of gate seven.” 

“we’ll be right there. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

“thanks jake.” 

you wait for jake on a nearby bench, watching as people come and go from the airport around you. it’s a nice day outside - a small breeze blows by every now and then and sunlight warms your skin. 

it isn’t long before a black van pulls up to the edge of the curb and jake opens the door from the backseat. he waves you over with a bright smile. you’re quick to rush over, greeting him with a short hug. “it’s so good to see you.” 

“you too. how was your flight?” 

“long,” you sigh. “how has jay been?” 

“he was pouting earlier because you hadn’t called to wish him happy birthday,” he chuckles. the sight brings a small smile to your own face. “i think he’s still live right now. the others are waiting for him at the dorm.” 

“i can’t wait to see him,” you murmur. jake smiles, reaching over to comfortingly pat your knee. 

“don’t worry. we’ll be there soon.” 

“y/n!” sunoo is the first to greet you with a quick hug as you enter the dorms behind jake. a small cake is set out on the dining table and a few streamers are set out in preparation of jay’s return. 

“he’s on his way home now,” heeseung tells you. 

“thank you for helping me with this,” you whisper. 

he nods, pulling you into a quick hug. “of course.” 

jungwon steps back so you’re standing in the middle of the room as the door unlocks. jay smiles as he opens the door and is immediately greeted with various “happy birthday!” cheers before he freezes. you chuckle as he gasps before rushing over to wrap his arms around you in a tight hug. you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him even closer to you. 

“you’re here,” he whispers against your neck. 

you gently pat his back, relishing in the feeling of being able to hold him once again. “i’m here.” 

jay pulls back after a while to pull you into a kiss. the cheers from the other boys quickly turn into whines and joking complaints, though you both ignore them in favor of pressing another peck against his lips. “hey! there are kids here!” jake says, forcefully pushing a hand over niki’s eyes.

“hyung,” niki whines. 

you chuckle at their teasing as jay leans down to press a kiss against your temple when you finally pull away. he smiles brightly at you as his arm wraps around your waist. you turn your attention back to the party as sunghoon steps forwards, holding the cake out. “happy birthday, hyung.” 

“thank you guys,” jay smiles. his arm drops from around your waist to grab your hand, gently squeezing it as you join the other boys around the dining table to celebrate the love of your life.

you can just barely see jay’s reflection in the mirror in front of you before his arms snake around your waist. you stifle a small chuckle when he leans down to rest his forehead against your shoulders before returning your attention to your skincare. jay lets out a small, content sigh from behind you before leaning down to press a small kiss against the exposed skin of your neck. 

“i love you,” he mumbles. 

you smile, twisting in his hold to face him. jay looks at you with affection through his tired eyes, a faint smile ghosting against his lips as you lean forwards to pull him into a sweet kiss. “i love you too.” 

jay’s smile grows as he reaches over to turn the bathroom light off before leading you over to your shared bed. a content sigh escapes him when you gently coax him over to lay against your chest and begin carding your fingers through his hair. 

an old drama rerun plays on the tv in front of you, though neither of you are paying attention. jay’s eyes flutter closed as you twist the strands of his hair between your fingers. his grip around your waist loosens slightly as he reaches over to grab one of your hands, intertwining your fingers together and playing with your hand. 

you smile, leaning over to switch the light from your lamp off and lowering the volume to make jay more comfortable. “happy birthday darling,” you whisper. jay’s response comes in the form of a small peck against the back of your knuckles. 

[obxone]

Assumptions

Rewriten/Edited. ~1.95k words.

Master Page

Kiara groans loudly beside you as you both work on wiping down one of the larger tabletops after the lunch rush. You look up to find her gaze directed across the room. You turn your head to see Rafe Cameron walking towards the pickup counter. 

“Well if it isn’t Daddy Issues #1,” you muse, and she cracks a smile at you. “I’ve got this one.”

You approach him while digging out your notepad. “What’s up, Cameron?”

He grins, his gaze dragging from your feet up your legs and torso to your face. “I’m picking up a to-go order.”

“Did you call it in already?”

“Rose did.” He sticks his hands in his pockets after following you the rest of the way to the counter. You slip behind it, glancing as they place a paper bagged order up in the window.

He leans onto the counter, his gaze dragging over you again. Your skin prickles at the feeling of those dark blue eyes raking over you. 

He chuckles and you turn away to inspect the ticket for the owner's name. “You look good today.”

You ignore his remark. It would only fuel him if you responded. “It isn’t ready yet. You’ll have to sit pretty and wait.”

He shrugs, “Whatever.”

You turn to him, hand on your hip. “Would you like something to drink while you wait?”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

You laugh, hand to your stomach as you truly laugh before straightening your stance and staring at him. “I’m not being nice to you. I’m being nice to a customer.”

“Ah,” he muses. “A beer?”

“You’re nineteen, Rafe.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “Water.”

You fill a to-go cup with water and ice and pass it to him before returning to help Kie while waiting for the order to come up. 

“What was so funny?” She asks, scrunching her nose up as you help her clear off a dirty table. "It's Rafe."

You giggle a little as you resume clearing the large table.“He asked why I was being nice to him. And I said it was because he was a customer, not because it was him.”

She rolls her eyes in clear annoyance. “Of course, he thinks it’s about him.”

“Shocker really,” you mutter and take the dish bin to the kitchen before coming back out with his to-go bag in hand. “Here you go. Fresh like she asked.”

“Thanks.” He stands, pulling out a few bills and dropping them on the countertop.

“She already paid.”

“That’s your tip. I know you need to keep the lights on, Pogue.” He says before taking the bag and cup. You watch him leave, the door closing behind him while your cheeks burn at his comment. You grab the cash he tossed down. Five 20-dollar bills, he has tipped you $100. Your eyebrows scrunch together, and you look up at Kie as she nears. 

“Rafe Cameron is a dick,” you mutter, putting the money in your tip pocket.

“What did he do?”

“Pogue commentary as per usual.” You grab a few menus when a small family walks in, tourists fresh off the beach. 

— — — —

The one day of the week that The Wreck is closed has arrived. Your off day is being spent running errands and then meeting the pogues at the beach. The last stop is the bookstore, a copy of the newest release by your favorite artist is on hold per your request. You smile, pleased with the hard-bound copy as you exit the bookstore. 

It was worth all the teasing from your friends because both they and you know that your nose will be buried in these pages all afternoon instead of surfing. You crack the cover, loving the sound of a brand new book being opened for the first time. 

“What are you doing in town?” A familiar voice asks, and you look up to see Rafe getting off his bike. He has shed his helmet and hangs it on the handlebar as he watches you.

You do not respond, instead making your way down the sidewalk away from him. Steering clear of Rafe, especially when you are on your own, is a clear direction that all the pogues try to follow. 

“Are you ignoring me now?” He asks, catching up with you and running his hand through his hair, ruffling it after his helmet has pressed it down. You look at him, adjusting the tote bag strap on your shoulder. You look away when he turns to look down at you. Rafe is handsome, he always has been, but he is also a jerk to the pogues, and you are a pogue, so that means he is a jerk to you. “Come on, you could at least say one word,” he groans, his fingers enclosing your wrist and stopping you. 

“What do you want?” You ask, looking up at him. You press your book to your chest while staring at him. 

He shrugs. “To talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

He frowns, his gaze flitting down to the book you hold, he releases your wrist and reaches for it. “What do you have there?"

“None of your business.” You pull it out of his line of sight and drop it into your tote bag. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Change of pace.”

You laugh before rolling your eyes. “I’m not your entertainment Rafe.” You start walking until you get to your car. You pause and turn to him. He tips his head down, looking at you through his lashes to avoid the glare of the sun bouncing off the hood of your car. “You were rude to me the other day, and I didn’t appreciate it.”

He nods, looking away, his jaw ticking before he turns back to you. “I know.”

“Don’t do it again,” you say before digging your wallet out and giving him back the money. “Keep your money, Cameron. My parents aren’t struggling to keep the lights on despite what you kooks think.”

He takes it, clearing his throat. “You’re a pogue.”

“So what? It doesn’t give you a right to look down your nose at me,” you clarify. “I don’t judge you based on your daddy issues, do I?” He is silent then, his lips turning down in a frown. “Maybe get to know your peers before making assumptions that make you an asshole.” You unlock your car and open your door before meeting his gaze as he stands on the sidewalk watching you. “Maybe try an apology once in a while too.” 

He chuckles, tucking the cash into his pocket. "Would that make you feel better?"

"I hate you," you quip back. "Now, I'm going to enjoy a beach day with my friends. Goodbye." 

You leave him standing there, one hand still in his pocket and trying to hide that kook smirk that he so often wears. 

After arriving at the beach and finding the pogues, you sit sprawled on a beach blanket, your new book open in your lap. The hat your nagging mother made you promise to wear keeps the afternoon sun from beating down on you too harshly and keeps the sun from glaring on the page. You smile, flipping the page while soaking up the first carefree day of the summer. 

And it has you pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as the hero professes his unyielding love for his heroine. A slow burn always makes you feel like this. With a slow burn, your skin always tingles, your heart races, and your thirst for beautiful romances aches for you to get to the end. You cross your legs, leaning over to read the confession with eagerness. 

A shadow falls over your blanket, but the urge to continue wins through as you continue reading the hero's confession. 

“Is the book that good?” Rafe’s voice breaks through the images of the scene playing out in your head, and you snap the book closed before looking up at him in surprise. He smiles at you. “There she is.”

“What are you doing here?”

He sits beside you without asking and stretches his legs out, hands in the sand behind him as he leans back on his arms. Arms that were completely exposed in his tank top, muscled and tanned from hours working out and golfing in the sun. His muscles flex, holding him up in his current position. “I called your name halfway up the beach and wondered if you were ignoring me again, but I can see it is the book now.”

“What do you want, Rafe?” You ask, annoyance clear in your tone.

He smirks, dragging the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip. “I told you, to talk.”

“About what?”

He looks out at the water, and you do the same, noting the attention of your fellow pogues on you. You can see JJ is the closer one. Anger is written plainly on his face. The kook prince is too near and looks way too comfortable next to you. 

“JJ looks like he wants to punch me,” he says casually. 

You turn your face back to Rafe. “I can promise you that he does.”

Rafe chuckles, sitting up straight and pulling his knees up. His arms draped around his knees. He does not even seem phased by the idea of JJ punching him at all. “He can try.”

“He might if you keep sitting here.”

He looks at you then, tipping his head as he mulls over his question. “You got a thing going with Maybank I don’t know about?”

“No.”

He shrugs. “So, you are not dating anyone then?”

“No.”

“Good,” he says while getting to his feet. He looks down at you, dusting the sand off his hands. “I’ll pick you up tonight, at 7 pm, at your house.”

“What?!” You ask, getting to your own feet. Your book thumps down onto the blanket after it falls from your lap. 

“Our date. I’ll be a gentleman, I promise.”

“No, I’m not… Have you hit your head in the past 24 hours? Do I need to call someone?” You ask, crossing your arms over your waist. 

“No, I have not hit my head.”

You scoff. “Then something is wrong with you for saying we have a date. A kook and a pogue. And for even thinking for one second that I would agree to it.”

He smirks, laughing a little, before sticking his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be at your place to get you, 7 pm. Don't be late.” 

And then he turns his back to you and returns the way he came. 

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself before turning as the pogues emerge from the water, surfboards tucked against their sides. 

“What was that?” JJ asks, his hand brushing yours once he is near. You frown, looking at him and then the others. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper before turning your gaze to Rafe’s retreating figure. "He asked me on a date."

"A what?" Kiara's eyebrows shot up.

"Well, I guess he more so demanded."

John B scoffs, and Pope laughs. 

"You're not going," JJ says immediately, and you turn to him along with everyone else. He shrugs. "He's a kook. The kook."

"I already was not planning on it," you tell him. "But I'm also a person, JJ, and I can make my own decisions."

He nods, licking his lips. "You're right."

"She's coming to my house instead," Kie says, grinning at you. "Girl's night."

"Girl's night," you sass JJ, and he rolls his eyes at you. 

Part II

[hyunbunlix]

Penance [hitmen!HyunIn]

Characters: Hyunjin, Jeongin, Felix, older fem!OC, Changbin (mentioned), Bang Chan (mentioned), Lee Know (mentioned) Rating: A/O for Adults Only Content Warnings/Tags: murder, negotiation at gunpoint, threesome, switch (dom-leaning) Hyunjin, switch (sub-leaning) Jeongin, switch (dom-leaning) OC, cunnilingus, spit roasting, throat fucking (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), creampie, overstimulation, riding, power bottom Hyunjin, thorough aftercare Word Count: 10,179 Summary: To Hwang Hyunjin, separation from the people he cares about is a fate worse than death. After breaking Blackbox's and I.N's trust in him, Hyunjin would do anything to earn it back, including murdering an ex-girlfriend and handing over Felix. Note: This is part of a larger John Wick AU, which can be found here.

Other than a text from Jeong In telling him to fuck off, Hyun Jin had had no contact with him or Blackbox since they’d left Korea days ago. Blackbox’s phone was either off, dead, or she’d blocked him, because all his calls went right to voicemail. He kept a residence in Seoul for downtime, and right now, he was pacing it like a caged animal. Felix was in the guest room, attached to his heating pad like a surgical fixture. Hyun Jin didn’t feel right about letting Felix stay in his home after he’d tried to kill Blackbox not once but twice, but he couldn’t stand being completely alone, either. He and Felix had been close, once.

            Hyun Jin’s phone buzzed once and he jumped, startled. He swiped it off the coffee table, seeing the first communication from Blackbox since she’d called him immediately after Felix’s second attempt at assassinating her. Despite Hyun Jin trying to both text and call her an arguably obsessive amount (it was not actually arguable), this was the first response he’d gotten, and it had nothing to do with anything that mattered.

            Jessamine de Laire is on her way to NYC. I’ll route details if you want them.

            He hit the call button, shaking with near rage.

            “Yes?” She sounded exhausted, her voice quiet and low in her throat.

            “Why the hell do you think I give a fuck about what Jessamine de Laire is doing right now when you haven’t spoken to me for four days immediately after an attempt on your life?” he demanded.

            “I thought you would want to know,” she said, not rising to his challenge like she would have in the past. Felix hadn’t managed to kill her that night, but she was shaken. “She was there, the night you all freed Chang Bin. I didn’t have a chance to tell you then. I thought you would want to know.”

            “I couldn’t give less of a fuck,” he said. “Why didn’t you answer any of my messages? I’m worried about you. Why are you ignoring that? Ignoring me?”

            “I was catatonic most of these last two days. You were right. I’m not like you, or I.N. Turns out being nearly killed by the same man twice damaged my psyche. I didn’t answer you because I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. This is the first day I’ve been up,” she said. She didn’t sound sad, or tired, or upset. She sounded empty.

            “I’m sorry,” he said instantly. “I was scared. I thought I had finally fucked up for good this time. I thought you were never going to speak to me again.”

            She was quiet for a long moment, and Hyun Jin’s panic rose again.

            “I’m about an hour away from NYC,” she said finally. “If you come and take care of Jessamine, I’ll let you see me. The night of the operation, she implied she wanted you back. It made me mad. You said she’s the only cheating ex you failed to kill. Rectify it.”

            “Consider her dead,” Hyun Jin said, his voice steel. It would be the easiest kill he’d ever made.

            “I’ll send the details,” she said. Then she finally faltered, emotion creeping into her voice, though Hyun Jin couldn’t quite identify what it was. “I . . . I’ll see you soon.”

            She hung up. Hyun Jin shoved his phone into his pocket, and a second later it buzzed again. She must have had the details ready to go, awaiting his consent.

            Hyun Jin went to the guest room, knocking but opening the door before receiving a verbal assent. This was his damn apartment, after all, and Felix was on thin fucking ice. Felix stirred, bleary eyes peering through messy blond bangs. Once they got to the States, it would be easier to secure him stronger painkillers. He was going to need them after what Hyun Jin required of him.

            “Are you ready to atone?” Hyun Jin asked, arms folded as he leaned against the doorframe.

            “I am,” Felix said, sitting up. He didn’t even bother to ask where they were going, what they were doing.

            “Good. I need you to help me topple an empire and deliver it to Blackbox,” Hyun Jin said. Felix nodded, looking resigned.

            “And after that,” Hyun Jin went on, “I’m going to deliver you.”

            Felix sighed, his eyes straying from Hyun Jin, but through the haze of pain and defeat, there was no room for anger or betrayal. This was Felix’s own fault and he knew that.

            Felix nodded again.

For someone who lived on the other side of the world, Hyun Jin had a pretty good idea of what was going on in New York City. Between running with Blackbox and Lee Know, Hyun Jin was well aware of how hotly contested the territory was. After the fall of the Tarasovs and the failure of the D’Antonios, the de Laire family had swooped in to take control of the region, giving them footholds in Western Europe, East Asia, and North America. Lee Know had been on the road to destabilizing the de Laire family as a whole, an attempt at taking Chang Bin back. Now that Chang Bin was once again a free man, Lee Know didn’t care about them as much.

            Blackbox, on the other hand, wanted them expelled from New York, and Hyun Jin was going to see it through.

            “You know your function, right?” Hyun Jin said to Felix as they closed in on Jessamine de Laire’s location, a high-rise office building like so many others in New York City. Felix still looked like shit, but he was moving all right. Hyun Jin planned to handle combat on his own, though Felix was still armed for his own safety.

            “Yeah,” Felix said. “Take out the birds and steal everything that’s not nailed down.”

            By that, of course, he meant taking down security and making a digital copy of everything he could find to give to Blackbox. Everything about the de Laire’s operations, illicit and otherwise, past executions, future plans, and most importantly, what the hell had happened to the patriarch. Everything right down to where Jessamine had buried her father would be in Blackbox’s possession before the week was out. A peace offering from Hyun Jin and Felix both.

            “Perfect,” Hyun Jin muttered. It had been a long time since he and Felix last did field work together, but the roles still fit like well-worn gloves. There were few places Felix was unable to get into, and the de Laire headquarters was no exception. Most of what went on there was on the up and up; everyone needed a front of some kind—even Blackbox daylighted as an investment broker—and New York was the perfect place to invest resources into the transportation sector. Cars, planes, trains, even infrastructure—the de Laires had their fingers in all of it.

            Once inside the building, they split up. Felix promptly disappeared while Hyun Jin went directly to the front desk.

            “Good morning, how may I help you?” the administrator asked, in English of course. Hyun Jin would respond in kind.

            “Is the matriarch in?” he asked, carefully enunciating the title that would let the administrator know which world he came from, and some idea of why he wanted to see the boss.

            “She is,” the administrator said quickly, “but she’s booked out for the day. I can try to squeeze you in for tomorrow if it’s urgent.”

            “I don’t think that’s going to work for me,” Hyun Jin said. “Tell her Hwang is here to see her. She’ll make the time. I’m happy to wait.”

            The administrator’s eyes widened a little, recognizing Hyun Jin’s working name right away.

            “I’ll let her know,” she said, a little tremor going through her voice. Hyun Jin smiled like he wasn’t about to commit a murder in the next few hours.

            “Thank you so much,” he said, then went to take a seat and wait.

            Sure enough, they sent someone to escort him to the CEO’s office within the hour. They didn’t even bother to search him first. This stupid bitch really thought he was here for her best-case scenario, after what she’d done.

            That, or it was a trap. Hyun Jin was equally enthused by both options. Felix had no doubt made his way nearly to the top floor by now after skimming information throughout his ascension. Hyun Jin was silent on the elevator up.

            When he entered the office, Jessamine rose from her desk, the wall of windows behind her showing the rest of the New York City skyline. She looked happy to see him. He smiled, an easy thing. God, he was so excited.

            “Hwang,” she said, a little breathless, like his smile alone could knock the air out of her. For a time, it had.

            “Jessie,” he said back. She pressed her lips together to keep a full grin off her face. She truly wasn’t cut out for this line of work. With her father gone, there was no one left to protect her from her own naïveté. She was pretty good at the business side of things, but as for the shady back-alley dealings? The old man really had sheltered her too much.

            “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, coming around the desk, approaching him rather than the other way around. Why did she still let him have so much power over her? Why was she acting as though she hadn’t betrayed him before?

            “I heard you wanted to see me,” he said noncommittally. He had to stall until Felix showed up. “So here I am.”

            Jessamine laughed quietly. “I appreciate you taking the time out of your schedule to come here,” she said. She didn’t even ask who had told him that, as though she was still smitten with him. As though he might have forgiven what she’d done.

            “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, sidestepping her to take a better look at the office. Mostly, he was checking her security measures, but he made it look like he was examining her decor. “The old man never had nearly this much color in here.”

            “No, he didn’t,” she said, her voice holding a bit of frustration. “There were a lot of things he got wrong.”

            “On that we can agree,” Hyun Jin said, picking up a silver desk ornament in the shape of a horse and examining it. Jessamine had always been a horse girl.

            “Are you still upset?” she hazarded. He turned back to her, leaning against her desk and raising his eyebrows.

            “About what?” he asked, his demeanor growing a little more serious.

            “About what happened,” she said. “Before . . .”

            “No,” he said. “I’m not still upset.” It was true in its own way. He’d hardened his heart against her a long time ago. He wouldn’t kill her in a fit of passion like he had so many others. No, the blood he spilled today would be cold. It had been cold for a long time.

            She sighed in relief, and that made Hyun Jin want to strangle her. Jessamine de Laire was so used to getting everything she wanted that she hadn’t even registered him as a threat. She was so fucking frustrating.

            “That’s good,” she said softly. “Now that my father’s dead, there’s nothing stopping us from getting back together. I’ve called off my engagement.”

            Hyun Jin fought to keep the anger off his face. Her second engagement, to the replacement for the man Hyun Jin had murdered when he’d found Jessamine fucking him. A man her father had approved of, unlike Hyun Jin, who was too unstable to marry into an esteemed empire like the de Laire’s.

            Before Hyun Jin could blow his cover entirely, the electronic locks on the doors clicked and Felix entered. There was a smear of blood on his cheek and a cut above his left eyebrow; he looked pissed. He tended to mask pain with anger. Clearly, the double-up of ibuprofen and acetaminophen wasn’t doing a good job. He needed something stronger, and soon.

            “Is it done?” Hyun Jin asked. The security cameras, he meant.

            “Yeah,” Felix said, leaning his back against the doors. There would be no escaping that way. Jessamine paled. She clearly recognized Felix, the hamster wheels in her brain turning.

            Finally, the fun part.

            “Don’t you want to know who told me you wanted to see me . . . ?” Hyun Jin asked, too soft, too close to her ear. She whipped back around to face him, finally recognizing him for the carnivore he was.

            “That woman . . . She was with you both,” Jessamine said. Hyun Jin’s lips tugged toward a gleefully unsound grin.

            “Would you like to know who she is?” he asked. Felix leaned his head back against the door, letting his agony show on his face now that Jessamine was no longer looking his way. He’d clearly gotten in a fight on the way up and aggravated his back. The message was obvious. Hurry up. Felix’s stamina had been greatly diminished, and if they had to fight their way out of there, he needed to conserve it.

            “Who?” Jessamine asked.

            “Blackbox,” Hyun Jin said, and his grin was cruel now. “She knows what you did to me. She told me where you would be today.” He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind Jessamine’s ear. “Blackbox always gets what she wants.”

            “Blackbox took out a hit on me?” Jessamine asked. Hyun Jin let his tongue poke between his teeth.

            “I’m not getting paid to do this if that’s what you’re asking. Blackbox does co-sign your death, though. You offended her by insinuating I would ever leave her for you,” Hyun Jin said. Jessamine looked back at Felix, then at Hyun Jin again.

            “She’s no better than me,” Jessamine said. “I saw her with him.”

           “Yeah,” Hyun Jin said with a chuckle. “She gives a damn good blowjob, that’s for sure. See, Blackbox never agreed to be exclusive with me, Jessamine. She doesn’t make promises she has no intention of keeping. Don’t you dare compare yourself to her. Only one of you is a woman of integrity.”

            Finally, she was rendered speechless.

            “Now then,” Hyun Jin went on, “in the interest of time, I would like to give you a choice. Either let me kill you, or do it yourself.” She glanced at the gun in his hand, suppressor on the muzzle, smoothly and casually drawn. He then gestured with his free hand to the wall of windows behind them, implying she jump.

            “Lady’s choice,” he said softly, like this was the biggest favor he could do for her.

            “You’d love it if I did it myself, wouldn’t you?” she snarled. “Absolve yourself of any blame?”

            He laughed for real then. “You clearly never knew me very well if you think I wouldn’t relish killing you with an audience,” he said. Then, turning almost wistful, he added, “You want to know how Blackbox got my attention?”

            “No,” Jessamine spat. “I don’t want to hear anything about that bitch.”

            “She sacrificed forty-seven people to me. Let me kill them right in front of her, one after another. She let me do it, watched the whole thing without flinching, then masturbated to thoughts of me that same night. Blackbox accepts me, my nature, the way you and yours never did. You liked me because I was pretty, because I was good in bed, and you ignored the parts of me you felt were beneath you. Blackbox told me where you were, the times of your flights, where you got your fucking coffee this morning. Blackbox knows everything, who you are, what I am, and she hasn’t betrayed me the way you did. Blackbox gift-wrapped you and ensured this would be your last day on Earth. Now choose.”

            Jessamine’s gaze was hateful as she went to her desk, opened a drawer. Hyun Jin practically rolled his eyes as she drew the handgun and moved to very obviously aim it at him rather than her own head like a sensible person. Hyun Jin put two bullets in her skull himself, and she crumpled. He sighed.

            “I don’t know why I liked her in the first place,” he muttered as he took door-guarding duty over from Felix. Felix moved to the desk to copy as much as he could off Jessamine’s electronics. Hyun Jin kept his gun out, ready to defend Felix should anyone come in. No one did.

            Felix worked quickly and silently, no doubt eager to be done with this.

It was around six in the evening when Blackbox’s phone buzzed with a call from Hyun Jin. Jeong In quickly came into the living area from the kitchen to listen.

            “Is it done?” she asked.

            “It’s done,” Hyun Jin confirmed.

            “Where are you now?”

            “The Continental.”

            “Is Felix with you?”

            “Yes and no,” Hyun Jin said, his voice steely. “I brought him to the States, yes, but we have different rooms on different floors.”

            “I see,” she said, though she couldn’t quantify exactly how she felt about it just then. She’d had a feeling Hyun Jin would recruit Felix to help him get this done. He had always been a vengeful man; there was probably a part of him that delighted in making Felix work while he was supposed to be recovering.

            “Felix has something for you,” Hyun Jin went on. Jeong In was looking at the phone like it might bite.

            “What is it?” she asked.

            “He scraped Jessamine’s devices. A few other people’s, too. He wants you to have the data. So do I,” Hyun Jin said.

            She remained silent for a few beats. Jeong In looked like he’d bitten into something exceptionally foul, but she couldn’t tell from looking at him what his exact opinion was.

            “Very well,” she said finally. “I’ll send you an address tomorrow morning. Bring him to me.”

            “Yes, ma’am,” Hyun Jin replied. “I look forward to seeing you.”

            “I know you do,” she answered, then ended the call. To say Jeong In looked displeased would be an understatement.

            “You’re not going to have them come here, are you?” he asked.

            “I don’t have much of a choice,” she said. “I need the location to be secure, and we can’t meet at the Continental.”

            “Why not?” Jeong In asked. He probably thought meeting on Continental grounds would keep her the safest. He was shortsighted that way when it came to her.

            “Because I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to shoot Felix, and I’d rather not face the punishment for conducting business on Continental grounds,” she said, her voice low. Jeong In gave a humorless chuckle then, but his shoulders relaxed in the knowledge that she was taking this very seriously.

            “When you put it like that, I understand completely,” he said.

            “Besides,” she added, reaching to touch his arm. “I’ll have you with me the entire time. Even if Felix tries something, and even if Hyun Jin has truly decided to betray me, I know you won’t let it happen. You said you wouldn’t lose me again, and I could feel how much you meant it.”

            His expression softened further as he stepped closer to her, putting his hand on her neck, his thumb on her cheek. “I did,” he said, his voice so incredibly tender, “and I do.”

When Felix and Hyun Jin stepped into the condo, they were unarmed. They’d both left anything even vaguely threatening in their rooms at the Continental. Hyun Jin had insisted on searching Felix before they left, which Felix found both incredibly annoying and perfectly understandable. When the Gumiho let them in, Blackbox was sitting at the dining table, handgun on the surface in front of her. As she stood, she picked it up, primed it, and took aim at Felix. It was perhaps the most casual he’d ever seen her look—jeans, camisole, long cardigan—if one could ignore the gun. He eyed the firearm, and his lips parted in surprise when he realized it was his, the one I.N had confiscated from him during the standoff in the stairwell.

            “Search them,” she said in Korean to I.N, who promptly obliged, his expression dark. I.N, too, was dressed down from his usual attire; today he wore a navy blue t-shirt tucked into black pants with an obvious gun holster on his right hip. Clearly, both he and Blackbox were ready to drop Felix at a moment’s provocation.

            “I find it hard to believe you would allow me here just to kill me,” Felix said, holding perfectly still. I.N’s search was thorough; he was in the same line of work, so he knew every single spot to check, no matter how unlikely. Satisfied, he moved on to Hyun Jin. Blackbox didn’t remove her aim from Felix.

            “You don’t know me very well,” she said.

            “Yeah,” he agreed, “but you didn’t kill me before, so why would you do it now?”

            “I don’t kill unconscious men,” she said. Felix clenched his jaw. His spine was still brutalizing him with pain signals regardless of the hot patch and KT tape doing their best to hold him together. The sixteen-hour plane ride and going into the field with Hyun Jin hadn’t helped.

            “All clear,” I.N said, straightening and returning to Blackbox’s side. Hyun Jin had a particularly wounded look on his face.

            “Yeah, I suppose you don’t,” Felix muttered. “You have dogs for that.”

            She crossed the floor slowly, her expression as dark as I.N’s.

            “I do,” she said, moving the conversation into English, ensuring her every word was exact and could not be misconstrued. “And you are lucky I chose to call the one I did that night.” She put her right hand on Hyun Jin’s shoulder then, and Felix watched the tension abruptly leave the line of the other man’s shoulders. He hadn’t been exaggerating before; he was like a drowning man and she his air.

            “The Gumiho would have killed you on sight, and I knew that,” she said. “So I will repeat myself: I don’t kill unconscious men,” she said, enunciating the last five words very carefully, grazing the barrel of the gun just under Felix’s chin. Her finger wasn’t on the trigger, but that could change in an instant. Felix was abruptly hyperaware that he was the shortest person in the room.

            “You should thank me for my mercy,” she continued, “and I.N for his. He’s had no fewer than three chances to kill you now, and he’s forfeited each one because I willed it so. He wanted to go back for you that night and finish the job, but I asked him to stay with me instead. He wants you dead so badly, and I am the only thing standing between you and him. Not even Hyun Jin could save you now. He wouldn’t dare.”

            Hyun Jin stiffened, though her grip on his shoulder hadn’t changed. He was watching her so closely, and even in a situation like this, Felix could see the adoration bleeding from his eyes. He’d already told Felix he would bury him if it meant staying at this woman’s side, and right here, right now, Felix truly believed it. She was actively threatening Felix, and Hyun Jin looked relieved by the mere implication that she trusted him to be on her side.

            “Why did you allow me here, then?” Felix asked. He hadn’t moved a muscle save what it took to talk. He knew better than to press his luck with a loaded firearm in someone else’s grip. “If you’re just going to kill me, why do it here, under your own roof, when you could have had Hyun Jin kill me where I stood this entire time?”

            “Because this is personal,” she said. “You tried to smother me, Felix. You had the audacity to kiss me, to put your cock in my mouth, knowing the entire time you meant to kill me that night. That’s fucked up, even for the Smiler.”

            “The blowjob was your idea,” he countered.

            “And you should have told me no,” she said. “Knowing everything you did, you should have refused me. But you didn’t. You took advantage. And you’ll pay for it.”

            “How?” he asked. “I can’t undo it.”

            “No,” she said, “you can’t. But you can make it up to me with your life.”

            She released Hyun Jin’s shoulder then, and without a backward glance at Felix, he stood aside, nearer to I.N than to Felix. Felix fought to keep any emotion off his face.

            “What do you want from me?” Felix said, voice a little strained now, close to panic but not quite there.

            “You have a month-long recovery ahead of you, correct?” she asked. Felix didn’t bother to ask where she’d gotten that information. Probably Hyun Jin. He nodded. “That means no more field work, yes?”

            “Yes,” he answered.

            “Is Lee Know aware yet?”

            “No,” Felix answered. “He knows I failed, and that’s all. I haven’t contacted him since the night it happened. He doesn’t even know I left the country.”

            “Good,” she said. “You’re going to keep it that way until or unless I instruct you otherwise. You’ll use this month to pick up what I’ve missed while dealing with Lee Know and Bang Chan and all their petty shit I couldn’t possibly give less of a fuck about anymore. And by the time the month is over, you’ll have either repaid your debt to me, or I will take the remainder from you.”

            He eyed the gun in her grip. She wasn’t left-handed. The message was clear; he was beneath her, and wouldn’t require her full effort to put down. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even have to do it herself. Felix met I.N’s cold eyes over her shoulder for just a moment.

            “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said, his mind numb with resignation. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do.

            “Oh?” she said. “And why’s that?”

            He fished his phone out of his pocket and held it out to her. She eyed it suspiciously, but took it with her free hand. She held it back over her shoulder, and I.N relieved her of it.

            Then, Felix got to his knees and bowed his head.

            “Because what I did to you can’t be rectified in a single month,” he said. “I know an impossible task when I see one. What I’ve done is unforgivable, and there’s nothing less than my life itself that can repay it.”

            He paused long enough to take a breath and steady himself. From his other pocket, he drew the Marker, a physical representation of the oath he was about to make in blood. The Marker was little bigger than the average pocket watch, yet it felt brutally heavy in his grasp.

            “So it’s yours. The rest of it. If that means you have to make me look dead to the world, so be it. If that means I have to be your eyes and ears for the rest of my life, so be it. What I tried to do to you is one of the worst things I’ve ever done in my life. And if the way I make up for that is by never holding a gun again and doing only as I’m told, then so be it. I surrender.”

            She was silent for a moment. “Then I will consider this next month your audition. You know what will happen if you disappoint me.”

            “I do,” he said, head still bowed. He wouldn’t dare look at her, not right now, not until she said he could.

            “Get up,” she said. He rose, and registered that her free hand was open for the Marker. Silently, he opened the metal disk and jammed his thumb onto the protrusion at the top. Compared to his back, this pain was nothing. He pressed his bloody thumb into the inner recess of the Marker, lifting it away to leave his crimson thumbprint behind. Then he handed it to her. She looked at it for a long moment, then snapped it shut, putting it into her own pocket.

            “Hyun Jin,” she said, though her eyes didn’t leave Felix, “escort Felix back to the Continental.” She’d switched back to Korean to better include everyone in the conversation. “Felix, you are not to leave the grounds until I send for you, personally or via I.N or Hyun Jin. Am I clear?”

            “Yes,” Felix said.

            “Then get out of my sight.”

            Hyun Jin approached Felix but hesitated. He turned to Blackbox; he looked like he was barely holding himself together. Blackbox had made both him and Felix a wreck for completely different reasons.

            “After I take him, may I come back?” Hyun Jin asked. There was a faint tremor in his voice, terrified by the prospect of remaining estranged from her. Over Blackbox’s shoulder, I.N looked like he wanted to maim Hyun Jin for his audacity.

            “You may,” she said. Hyun Jin sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. His relief was a nearly physical force, changing the color of the whole room. He got a hold of himself a moment later, putting a hand on Felix’s shoulder and ushering him back out the door. It locked and bolted behind them.

            “Was that your personal phone?” Hyun Jin asked as they made the elevator. Felix twisted the rose-gold band around his right ring finger, careful not to get blood on it. If Blackbox had noticed he was wearing her ring, she hadn’t given any indication.

            “Yeah,” Felix said.

“I can’t believe you would be that reckless,” Jeong In said softly. She turned away from the door, making her gun safe and unloaded once again.

            “Not reckless,” she said. “Calculated. We don’t get anywhere in this world without taking risks.”

            “But to let Hyun Jin come back . . .”

            “It’ll be all right. You’re here, and I know you won’t leave me alone with him no matter how hard he begs, not until he’s earned it. Besides, I don’t want to risk leaving him with Felix any longer. They were close, once. I don’t want them rekindling anything until or unless it suits my needs.”

            Jeong In hadn’t seen her like this in a long time. Frigid, sharp, willing to manipulate even those she cared about if it meant keeping the upper hand. But Felix and even Hyun Jin had forced her, and Jeong In added it to the long list of reasons why he was glad to be on her good side.

            “Besides,” she went on, setting the empty firearm and its magazine back down on the table, “Felix knows where I am now. If he tries to come back and kill me one last time, Hyun Jin will have the chance to prove his loyalty. Should he fail that test, you’re welcome to eliminate them both.”

            Jeong In approached her then, gently cupping her face in his hands. He’d thawed entirely once the other men left, earnest and open, just for her. He knew how much it had to hurt her to turn her back on Hyun Jin like that, even hypothetically.

            “I trust you more than anyone, Jeong In,” she said softly, gripping his arms like he was her lifeline. “No matter what happens, it’s you and me . . . I don’t have the words to describe how grateful I am to have you here . . .”

            He folded her into a hug then, holding her close for a long few minutes, letting her come down, back to herself, the version of her that was only human rather than a force, a terror.

            “I’m not going anywhere,” he said against her hair. “I promise.”

            “I know,” she said, finally pulling back from him. “Now, let’s see what’s on that phone.”

            When Jeong In fished the smartphone from his pocket and handed it to her, the first shock was the lack of security measures enabled. A quick look at the settings showed that Felix favored the fingerprint scanner and face I.D. plus a PIN. All of it was disabled.

            She took a seat on the couch and Jeong In sat beside her. Even just a cursory sweep would take hours. Contacts, text messages, emails, photos, notes, documents. It would take cumulative days to comb through everything here.

            “Is it legitimate?” Jeong In asked.

           “Looks like it,” she said. “Even if he made a copy, which I can almost guarantee he has, this is incredible.” Biting the corner of her lip, she navigated deeper. “There’s so much shit on the de Laires in here . . . I could root them out of New York with this, easily. I don’t even have to touch their global holdings if I don’t want to.” She backed out of that folder and tapped into a document about Lee Know. It had been created two days ago, an unorganized stream-of-consciousness dump that read like Felix jotting down everything he could think of regarding his former boss. The timing couldn’t be coincidental.

            “Do you think any of it is a trap?” Jeong In asked, looking directly over her shoulder to get around the privacy screen protector on the device.

            “I don’t know, but we can verify it later. This is going to take at least a week of dedicated time to go through, maybe more,” she said.

            They were still combing through the data when Hyun Jin knocked on the door nearly three hours later. They both knew it was him because he knocked exactly the same way every single time.

            “Let him in,” she said, and Jeong In got up. Sure enough, there was Hyun Jin, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

            “You can take the second bedroom,” she said from the couch without moving or looking up. Jeong In saw the hurt crease Hyun Jin’s expression but felt very little in the way of sympathy. The only thing Jeong In could think about was Hyun Jin’s hand on her neck and his gun to her head, all to save the fucking Smiler.

            “Thank you,” Hyun Jin said, leaving his shoes by the door and retreating to the second bedroom. Jeong In, of course, had been sleeping in the master with her this entire time, so the extra room had remained untouched. He went back to the couch, sitting beside her again, his leg resting against hers just to let her know he was there if she needed him. She patted his thigh but didn’t look up from the phone. A few minutes later, Hyun Jin came to the living room and took a seat in one of the plush chairs perpendicular to the sofa. He watched her carefully, but still she didn’t look away from the phone.

            “Why are you here, Hyun Jin?” she asked finally. There was a distinct lack of emotion in her voice that made Jeong In think of Bang Chan when he dealt with clients. They both had an air like they were larger than life, never to be trifled with.

            “Because I missed you,” he said. “Because I was worried about you. Because for almost a week I was under the honest to god impression I was never going to see you again for more than a few minutes.”

            Finally, she lowered the phone and looked at him. “I wouldn’t do that to you without a reason.”

            “You have reasons,” he said, his voice so soft it almost didn’t carry. Jeong In didn’t think he’d ever seen Hyun Jin afraid before, but there was no other way to describe his demeanor now.

            She was silent for a moment, then handed the phone to Jeong In. He pocketed it. She gestured for Hyun Jin to move to the couch, and he obeyed, sitting on her other side. Then she straddled his thighs.

            Jeong In felt no jealousy seeing them like that. He felt a little angry, because, in his opinion, Hyun Jin hadn’t earned this privilege back yet, but that was all. She and Hyun Jin looked gorgeous together; they always had. They were both beautiful in their own rights, but together they were beyond enticing.

            Hyun Jin stared up into her face, his hands tentatively coming to rest on her hips. His expression was wide open; she could have asked anything of him and he would have done it without question.

            It was what she needed. It was what she deserved.

            “I have reasons to the contrary, as well,” she said. Then she kissed him. Jeong In felt the same about that as he did about her sitting on Hyun Jin’s lap—not jealous, merely critical. She could do with her body as she pleased; they’d all talked about it already. Even finding out about the impromptu blowjob she’d given Yong Bok hadn’t been that much of a shock (though it had grossed Jeong In out). Jeong In didn’t feel threatened. He never had.

            Hyun Jin moaned against her mouth, his hands tightening on her hips, pulling her closer. Her hands were on his jaw now, deepening the kiss, and Jeong In watched her tongue slip into Hyun Jin’s mouth. No matter how much he distrusted Hyun Jin right then, no matter how ready he was to shoot the other man at the slightest provocation, he still derived pleasure from looking at them like that.

            “You know Jeong In isn’t going to let us have a moment alone, don’t you?” she said against Hyun Jin’s mouth. Hyun Jin opened bleary eyes to look first at her, then at Jeong In.

            “I know,” he said, meeting Jeong In’s eyes. “I don’t care. I don’t think he cares, either.”

            “Anything you have to say or do with her, you can do in front of me,” Jeong In said. A threat and consent in one. Both Jeong In and Hyun Jin had slept with her already, but they’d never watched each other, never done anything as a group. Jeong In couldn’t help the way his cock twitched at the prospect.

            “Oh, please, Kit,” she said softly, looking at Jeong In and using the nickname she’d coined for him years ago when he’d first joined the life, all so she could refer to him affectionately in mixed company without jeopardizing his identity. “You’re not really planning just to watch are you?”

            Jeong In moved his gaze from her to Hyun Jin. Hyun Jin didn’t look bothered by the prospect of actively sharing in the slightest.

            “I’m just happy to be included,” Hyun Jin said, answering the unspoken question. “You know I didn’t just miss noona, right? I missed Jeong Innie too.”

            Jeong In pressed his lips together, but no matter how much he tried to harden his heart, he couldn’t make those words meaningless. He hadn’t just gotten used to Hyun Jin’s presence in their lives; he liked having the older man around. That’s why his perceived betrayal had hurt so much.

            “Missed me enough to see my dick?” Jeong In asked, forcing his voice to sound detached. Hyun Jin let his eyes dart down to Jeong In’s crotch, a faint smile crossing his lips.

            “Yeah,” he confirmed.

            “It’s a great dick,” she said, also eyeing Jeong In’s growing erection. She’d fucked him only a couple days before and yet looked ready to devour him again. This woman was positively insatiable.

            “Better than mine?” Hyun Jin asked, obviously playing. She made a soft tsk noise, playing along.

            “I thought the whole point of this arrangement was that I don’t have to choose,” she said.

            “The only choice you have to make is whose goes where,” Jeong In said, entirely committed at this point. “I got your mouth and your pussy earlier this week, so I’m not picky.”

            Hyun Jin pouted. “You mean to tell me I had to go kill somebody and he was here stuffing you full?” he asked. This was one of Hyun Jin’s favorite roles to play—the pouting, wounded prince.

            “Mmhmm,” she said. “If it makes you feel any better, knowing you took out the last foundation of the de Laire Empire makes me find you five times sexier.”

            “It does, actually,” Hyun Jin said. “I’ve wanted to kill Jessamine de Laire for years now, and you practically gift-wrapped her for me. You must like me a lot.”

            She shifted her hips against his, and Hyun Jin groaned. Jeong In resisted the urge to touch himself just yet.

            “I do like you a lot,” she said, then turned to look at Jeong In, too. “I like both of you a lot.”

            She then leaned over to unzip Jeong In’s pants. Hyun Jin put his hand on her neck, turning her face back to him so he could kiss her again. While they devoured each other, Jeong In undid his belt and levered his cock out of his pants, stroking slowly, enjoying the show they put on. Hyun Jin’s lips eventually trailed down her neck, making her put her head back and sigh in bliss. Jeong In studied the column of her throat, imagining either his or Hyun Jin’s cock crammed down it. He groaned quietly, speeding the motion of his hand.

            Hyun Jin moved her then, laying her back on the couch, her head resting on Jeong In’s thigh. Hyun Jin lowered his hips between her legs, grinding against her. He claimed her mouth with his again, and them making out mere centimeters from his cock made Jeong In moan louder, a throb of need going down the length of him. She raked her fingers through Hyun Jin’s hair with one hand while her other yanked his shirt up, exposing his leanly muscled back. Hyun Jin took the initiative and sat up long enough to pull the shirt off and cast it aside. He moved down her body then, tugging her pants and underwear down and off so he could bury his face in her cunt. She moaned so sweetly at that, and Jeong In used his free hand to tug her shirt and bra askew, playing with her tits the way she liked, which only made her moan louder and squirm against Hyun Jin’s face. Hyun Jin, in answer, took firm hold of her thighs to keep her still.

            “Fuck,” she whined, thoroughly trapped between them. They kept her like that until she came, her hips bucking against Hyun Jin’s mouth, her head pressing back into Jeong In’s thigh while she mewled her pleasure.

           “Nothing like an orgasm to get our pussy nice and wet, huh?” Hyun Jin said as he sat up, his lips and chin glistening in wet, his eyes skating over her to land on Jeong In.

            “I just want to know who gets to have it first,” Jeong In said. Hyun Jin eyed Jeong In’s hardness, and Jeong In glanced over the insistent outline in Hyun Jin’s pants.

            She made the decision for them, rolling onto her knees, throwing her remaining clothes on the floor, and putting her mouth on Jeong In’s cock. Jeong In moaned instantly, his eyes falling halfway shut. He was barely cognizant of Hyun Jin stripping the rest of the way down and stroking his cock while he looked them over.

            Jeong In did notice when Hyun Jin, impatient as ever, sank his cock into her, causing her to whine around Jeong In’s. Jeong In hissed an exhale, his cock throbbing in her mouth. Hyun Jin didn’t take long to pick a rhythm, and Jeong In got to his knees to make it easier on them. Every time Hyun Jin slammed home inside her, her body rocked forward, pushing Jeong In’s cock deeper down her throat.

            Hyun Jin couldn’t pick a focal point, shifting between his cock fucking her cunt, her mouth on Jeong In, and even Jeong In’s face from time to time. It was a little weird at first, having Hyun Jin look at them both with similar avarice, but everything else felt so good that Jeong In found he honestly didn’t mind. Who gave a fuck if a man as gorgeous as Hyun Jin liked looking at him? That was a compliment.

            As Hyun Jin continued with his brutal rhythm, she tapped Jeong In’s thigh, and he immediately withdrew his dick from her mouth. She coughed a little, catching her breath, wrapping her hand around Jeong In’s slick cock and pumping instead.

            “A little eager there, Hyun Jin?” she asked, meaning to tease him though her voice was husky with pleasure and probably the beginnings of a sore throat.

            “I told you I missed you,” Hyun Jin said, leaving his cock buried all the way inside her after an exceptionally long and sound thrust. “I figured I could show you, too.”

            She fidgeted her hips a little, silently begging Hyun Jin to move. It drew a smirk to his lips.

            “If you don’t fuck her properly, I’ll do it for you,” Jeong In snapped. Hyun Jin’s eyes met his.

            “By all means,” he said, pulling out. “Switch with me.”

            Jeong In didn’t have to be told twice. They traded places, Jeong In shedding his clothes in the process. Jeong In wasted no time sinking his cock into her; she was so fucking slick that it required almost no effort on his part.

            “Fuck,” she moaned. She almost dropped her face onto the couch cushions, but Hyun Jin coaxed her back up.

            “I want you to taste yourself,” he said, and she nodded, opening her mouth for his wet cock. Jeong In groaned at the sight, speeding the motions of his hips. While he wasn’t quite as brutal with her as Hyun Jin had been, Jeong In was eager, and they once again found a rhythm that had her rocking forward, gagging and drooling around Hyun Jin’s cock. Somewhere in the middle of all that, she came again, a euphoric fluttering of her core that made her feel even warmer and wetter around Jeong In. He moaned, leaning over her until his chest was pressed to her back, his hips snapping sharp, short thrusts into her to prolong her orgasm. She had to push Hyun Jin away so she could breathe, her moans turning into sharp, ragged cries when Jeong In refused to relent.

            “Jeong In— Jeong In, stop, stop,” she gasped, and he obeyed in an instant.

            “What is it?” he asked, straightening up and looking her over. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

            “I’m fine,” she said, then laughed a little, breathless. “But I know how you fuck when you’re about to come, and if you get semen on my couch I’m going to be pissed.”

            Hyun Jin had the nerve to laugh, though he did shove his face into his elbow to try to muffle it. Jeong In glared at him, but there was no real venom behind it. Reluctantly, he pulled out.

            “That’s fair,” he sighed. “To the bedroom?”

            “Yes, please,” she said. Both Jeong In and Hyun Jin helped her stand up. Jeong In was pleased to see her stride wobble a little as she walked into the bedroom. She flopped onto the bed and rolled over with her legs spread and her head hanging off the edge.

            “You may continue,” she said, then simply left her mouth hanging open.

            “Oh my god,” Hyun Jin groaned, and immediately went to the end of bed to make use of her open mouth. Jeong In took his time making his way onto the bed, watching intently as she got Hyun Jin’s cock slick all over again, choking it down bit by bit. What Jeong In had pictured when this all began—a cock filling her throat—came to fruition, Hyun Jin’s length sliding in and out of her slowly, visibly. She’d put herself at the perfect angle for it, probably on purpose.

            Jeong In teased her with his fingers first, both to make sure she was still physically able to take him and so he could take some of her wet to prepare himself again, too. Hyun Jin had increased his pace just a little bit more, careful and eager all at once. Jeong In watched, listening to her hum around Hyun Jin’s cock while Jeong In jerked himself with his wet hand.

            “You might want to get to work,” Hyun Jin said, tearing his eyes away from the throat fucking to look at Jeong In. “As great as this feels, I like coming in her cunt better.”

            “Don’t rush me,” Jeong In shot back, but it was quickly rendered a moot point when she reached down for his cock herself, stroking him and all but demanding he put it inside her.

            “You know how much she hates being empty,” Hyun Jin said, and she hummed an affirmative. Jeong In couldn’t resist after that, shooing her hand away so he could enter her again. She gave a longer, lower hum then, a little shiver going down her body. He gripped her knees, pushing her legs back and open to take him better, and then he started to move again.

            Jeong In had no idea where Hyun Jin had gotten his restraint from, because Jeong In personally didn’t seem to have any left. With her cunt slick and open and taking him so easily, Jeong In picked up immediately where he’d left off, fucking her with fast, short thrusts. She tapped on Hyun Jin’s thigh and he pulled his cock out of her mouth, her loud, ragged moans filling the room. Hyun Jin immediately moved onto the bed and took one of her breasts in his mouth, turning her moans into cries instead as Jeong In refused to let up. She came yet again, and watching her eyes roll back in her head was the last straw for Jeong In. He orgasmed hard, barely able to focus his own eyes while he fucked them through it, making a royal mess of them both. She’d been right to move out of the living room.

            “Fuck, Jeong In,” Hyun Jin said, looking over the frothing mess Jeong In had made of her pussy. “You said you had her like two days ago, why so greedy?”

            “I always want her so bad,” Jeong In panted, trying to catch his breath. “I’m always greedy for her.”

            He pulled out, and everything was sticky. His cock, her core, the bedspread.

            “I’m greedy, too,” she whined. “Hyunie.”

            It wasn’t often that she whined in desperation like that. Jeong In watched in real-time as Hyun Jin’s expression shifted from playful to predatory, and made the smart executive decision to move out of the way before Hyun Jin could physically push him.

Hyun Jin leaned over her body, kissing her sloppy and deep while he purposely rubbed his messy cock against her stomach, refusing to enter her right away now that he knew how desperate she was. He was equally desperate, but after being apart from her for days and in limbo for weeks, hearing her beg for him by name hit him hard in a way he hadn’t known he could feel.

            She’d missed him, too, and he reveled in that.

            “Hyunie,” she whined again, “please.”

            “Please what?”

            “I need you inside me.”

            “What part of me?”

            “Your fucking cock.”

            “Good,” he said, and then moved them both. He peeled her off the bed and lay down under her instead, fitting her to his cock and pulling her down hard, forcing her to take all of him with the help of gravity. She all but shrieked when he did it, sitting on him motionless for a moment, dazed while she tried to get used to him filling her already hypersensitive core. He loved seeing her like that, knowing her senses were overwhelmed and it was all his fault.

           Well, his and Jeong In’s, in this case. Hyun Jin couldn’t wait to add his cum to the total.

            “Fuck me, noona,” Hyun Jin said, his own desperation coming to the fore. “Fuck me like you missed me.”

            “I did miss you,” she said, and she didn’t bother to start slow, either. He knew her, knew that when she rode that hard, it was because she was chasing an orgasm. She’d already come multiple times this session, but not on Hyun Jin’s cock, and that was one of her favorites. She had to be exhausted and dehydrated, but she wanted this, wanted him badly enough to try. Despite the vulgarity of the situation, she softened him in a way no one else could manage.

            She was sweaty and messy and every stroke of her along his cock made a wet slap against his pelvis. His hands were tight on her hips, helping her rhythm when she faltered. She shook her head, looking like she was going to cry in frustration.

            “I can’t, I—”

            Hyun Jin pulled her body down, putting her face in his shoulder while he braced her hips at the perfect height for him to fuck up into her. He did his best to copy her angle, her speed, trying to hit the same spots inside her that she would have hit herself.

            “Please, noona,” he panted, his voice strained. “I want you to come on me so bad. I missed you so fucking much and I need this, too.”

           She fell apart, sounding like she might start crying any second. She was shaking so hard, and every contact point between their bodies was slick with sweat. She’d given him everything she had left, and that was enough. He came too, his last few shuddering thrusts accompanied by long, high moans. This was the first time he’d gotten off in weeks; Jeong In hadn’t let Hyun Jin be alone with her since the stunt he’d pulled with the hostage situation, so the last time he’d come had been sometime before that. Hyun Jin had completely lost interest in masturbation months ago; it didn’t feel half as good as being with his partner did.

            His partner.

            She still wanted him. She hadn’t decided he was a worse version of Jeong In and gotten rid of him.

            “Thank you,” he murmured as he came back to his senses. “Both of you,” he clarified, looking for Jeong In over her shoulder. The younger man had caught his breath by now and was looking at them with widened eyes.

            “Do you always fuck like that?” he asked. Hyun Jin glanced at the fucked-out woman on his chest. She looked like she was trying and failing to string a coherent thought together, like they’d shattered her mind completely.

            “Pretty much, yeah,” Hyun Jin answered. “Is that bad?”

            Jeong In shook his head. “No. I mean, she seems to like it. I just mean you fuck like you’re never going to get to do it again.”

            Hyun Jin shrugged. “Knowing this life, one day that’s going to be true. I’m not going to half-ass being with my favorite person in the world even once.”

            Jeong In’s gaze softened a little, going over her spent body. She looked like she might fall asleep, which meant it was up to them to keep her awake long enough to clean and hydrate her. Jeong In swallowed hard, and it was abundantly clear that she was his favorite person in the world, too.

            “If you start getting her cleaned up, I’ll go get water,” Jeong In said. It was a small concession, his willingness to leave the room for even a minute and work together with Hyun Jin on literally anything, but Hyun Jin would do whatever he needed to rebuild the trust he’d broken.

            “Yeah,” Hyun Jin agreed. Jeong In left the room, and Hyun Jin carried their partner into the master bathroom. He got her to stand, her hips leaning back against the counter, and got to work.

She closed her eyes in bliss as Hyun Jin tied her hair up and out of the way.

            “That was a lot,” she murmured. When she opened her eyes, he was smiling softly.

            “No kidding,” he said. One of the reasons she liked sex so much was because it was one of the only things that could get her to stop thinking even for a little while, forcing her to live in her body rather than her brain. Having both Hyun Jin and Jeong In at the same time had certainly eliminated any rational thought.

            Hyun Jin took several washcloths and towels from the linen closet and wet one in the sink with warm water. It would be easiest to wash her off in the shower, but in her current state, she wasn’t sure she could handle that without falling over or passing out. Hyun Jin, intuitive of her as ever, clearly knew it, too.

            Jeong In came back with water bottles, and she thanked him and drank greedily. Hyun Jin ignored his, focused on his task.

            “I put the kettle on the stove,” Jeong In said, watching Hyun Jin’s motions closely. He didn’t seem as suspicious as he had before, but he clearly hadn’t forgiven Hyun Jin yet, either. “I figure you’re going to want to counteract the sore throat before it happens.”

            She chuckled. “That’s why you’re the smart one,” she teased. Jeong In snorted.

            “Yeah right,” he retorted sarcastically. “I just know how many times you can deep throat in a week before it bothers you.”

            “Is it peppermint?” she asked.

            “Of course,” Jeong In answered. She reached toward him and he stepped closer. She gently traced his jaw, his neck, the line of his shoulders. His whole body was tight from physical exertion, his hair a mess. Jeong In always looked good, but post-fuck Jeong In was a specific kind of good.

            “Thank you,” she said, and meant a lot of things. In answer, he kissed her forehead, then went back to gulping down his water bottle, which she paid undivided attention to. He left again when the kettle started to whistle.

            Hyun Jin coaxed her legs apart to get to the worst of the mess now that the rest of her had been wiped clean of sweat and spit and various other fluids. He wet a fresh washcloth to use.

            “Thank you,” she said to him, too. He glanced up at her, then put his eyes back on his task. He was so gentle with her now; he always was, after.

            “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “I want to do it. All of it. I missed all of it.”

        ��   “I know,” she said, her voice just as quiet. “We’ll figure it out.” It was the most she could promise right then.

            Jeong In came back into the master bedroom and dropped all their discarded clothes into a pile on the bed. “I don’t know if anybody plans on putting any of that back on,” he said.

            “Probably not. We can just empty the pockets and put it all in the washer. Please tell me you brought more than one outfit, Hyun Jin,” she said, teasing him now.

            “Or what? You’ll be miserable having to see me naked for a couple more hours?” he snarked right back. She snickered, and Jeong In snorted as he squeezed past them to get in the shower.

            “Anything but that,” Jeong In needled over the water.

            “Yeah, I have more clothes,” Hyun Jin said, tossing the second used washcloth in the sink. “Once you finish drinking your water, you should get in with Jeong In just to be sure everything’s clean.”

            “Okay,” she said. “Would you mind throwing all that in the washer? Including the blanket? It’s connected to the guest bathroom.”

           “Got it,” Hyun Jin said, leaning to give her a gentle kiss on his way out of the bathroom.

            Once everyone was clean, dry, and in some state of decent dress, they all met back up in the living room. She sipped her tea. Jeong In was to her right attempting to find something worth streaming on TV. Hyun Jin had started out sitting to her left, but he’d since laid down, put his head in her lap, and let her stroke his hair.

            “How long are you staying, Hyun Jin?” she asked. He shrugged.

            “Until you kick me out or Lee Know summons me, I guess,” he said.

            “Are you okay with that, Jeong In?” she asked next. Jeong In also shrugged.

            “I guess. But he has to stay in the second bedroom,” he said. Hyun Jin whined, and she sighed.

            “It’s a fair concession,” she said. “He could ask you to go back to the Continental.”

            “I know,” Hyun Jin grumbled.

            “Just try not to do any other stupid things,” Jeong In said, “and we can get through this a lot faster.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Hyun Jin said softly. She glanced down at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were closed, and he looked so, so tired. “I think I’ve learned my lesson.”

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 12/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

“Don’t forget, we have dinner with your parents tonight,” Diana says as she double checks the contents of her briefcase.

“Yep,” he confirms, then pops the last bite of his toast into his mouth.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, slipping her feet into her heels. “How’s your head?”

“A little sore, but I’m fine,” he answers.

“That’s good. I’ll see you tonight, then,” she says, kissing him quickly on the cheek and rushing out the door.

He hears the garage open, the rumble of the car’s engine starting up, and then it’s just him and Frenchie, and the quiet of the empty house.

“What do you think, Frenchie? Should we take a quick w-a-l-k?” he asks, and Frenchie’s tail begins to thump loudly against the floor. “Yeah? A walk sounds good?”

The dog stands abruptly, pacing back and forth behind his chair excitedly.

It’s a mild morning, chilly but with the promise of a warmer afternoon. He sets off with a brisk pace, hoping to get his heart pumping in lieu of an actual run, which he was advised to avoid for at least a few days. Frenchie trots happily beside him, her tongue lolling out the side of her smiling mouth.

He waves as he passes by familiar houses with familiar occupants, though he’s never learned their names. Lady-with-bowlcut and Short-shorts-guy are what he knows them by, but everyone knows Frenchie due to her tendency to go on adventures if the front door is left open when he runs the trash out to the bin.

“Morning,” he calls out with a wave, and Old-hunchback-man nods and raises his coffee cup in response.

They pass by a house he thinks of as The Children’s House, due to the lawn that is cluttered with ride-on toys and decrepit sports equipment. In the summer, joyful shrieks can be heard over the splashing of water from the back yard, and at Christmastime theirs is the house with the most lights. It makes him feel both happy and sad, The Children’s House, because it’s everything he hoped for and everything he doesn’t have. For himself, as a former child, and also as a person who had always imagined himself as a someday father, but never ended up walking that path.

As they near the driveway of The Children’s House, a small towheaded boy skitters down the pavement with bare feet, his eyes wide and zeroed in on Frenchie.

“Can I pet your dog?” the child asks hopefully, his hands held carefully behind his back as he waits for permission.

“Sure,” Jeff answers, signaling Frenchie to sit.

The boy runs his hand down her silky coat, smiling happily.

“Dogs like me,” the child declares, unashamed of his self-promotion.

“Aiden! Get back in the house!” a voice calls from inside the garage, and he looks up to see Mother-of-children standing in the open doorway, clutching her bathrobe closed.

He waves, and she bobs her head tersely, and the child gives Frenchie one last pat on the head and scrambles back inside. They finish their walk, each contemplative in the way that man and beast are, and then he dresses in khaki slacks and a white polo shirt before driving into Philly.

His office is a disaster. Books are strewn across the floor, intermingled with shards of splintered wood from the shelf that was lost in the scuffle. His first appointment isn’t until noon, which gives him a couple hours to get things back in order. He starts by picking up all the books and stacking them into the categories by which they’d formerly been organized.

The profession of therapist was never one he had in mind when he set out to study psychology. He’s always been fascinated by the human mind and corresponding behavior, and the links between what has happened to us and how we behave as a result. But sitting down in a room with a single person, unpacking their traumas and guiding them to a place of higher understanding that might allow them to overcome it, wasn’t exactly what he’d planned for. He stumbled into it, like so many things. And, as is often the case for people who are good at things that they don’t necessarily enjoy, it stuck.

He unearths a book from beneath a bust of Carl Jung and sits down, brushing his fingers over the raised letters on the cover. Parapsychology: The Controversial Science. It’s one he’s read many times, though not in several years. One that he and Diana used to discuss at length over coffee in his apartment in Alexandria. He wonders, not for the first time, how they’ve landed so incredibly off course from where they began. Two young professionals, both interested in strange and unexplainable phenomena, joining the FBI with the hope of being a part of finding the answers, but instead finding each other. Now, over a decade later, they are a lawyer and a therapist with a mortgage and a dog. A picture-perfect life, by all accounts. But not the one he’d imagined leading.

He sighs, standing and setting the book in a stack with others that fall outside the bounds of commonly accepted research. He finishes cleaning up the office, and by 11:45 all evidence of Mr. Porter’s tantrum is erased, save for the missing shelf. He checks his notes in preparation for his noon appointment, uses the bathroom, fills his water glass and restocks the tissues. He gets to work.

-

He dozes during the ninety minute drive to his parent’s house, feeling the strain of his injury after only a half-day of work. Diana listens to talk radio and clicks her fingernails impatiently on the steering wheel, sighing with relief when they pull into the long paved driveway of the Dutch Colonial house.

“We’re here, Jeff,” she says, patting the top of his thigh to rouse him.

They park, retrieve a bottle of wine and a loaf of focaccia from the back seat, and approach the front door. He lifts his hand to knock, but before he can make contact, the door swings open and reveals the worried face of his mother.

“Jeff,” she says haltingly, giving him a once over from head to foot. “How are you feeling?”

He glances at Diana with furrowed eyebrows. It wouldn’t be like her to inform his mother of his little encounter with Mr. Porter, but it’s clear that she’s worried about his well-being.

“I’m fine, Mom,” he says lightly, but the concerned pinch of her face doesn’t let up. “Can we come in?” he asks with a shy smile, and she steps aside to allow them entrance.

“I’m going to put these in the kitchen, Teena,” Diana informs her as she makes her way down the hall. “Is there anything I can help with for dinner?”

“No, thank you, Diana,” Teena replies blandly, still inspecting her son as though seeing him for the very first time.

“Are you okay, Mom?” he asks, touching her shoulder, and she jumps a little, regarding him with surprise.

“I’m fine, Jeff. Just fine. Let’s go have dinner.”

He follows her into the kitchen, where Diana is uncorking the wine. His father is standing at one end of the long counter, a pleased smile on his mouth.

“What’s the latest with the Spurious deal? Any movement in Baltimore?” Diana asks, setting out four glasses.

“Everything is going swimmingly,” his father replies. “Perfectly to plan.” He turns to look at his son and his smile broadens, deepening the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. “Jeff! It’s wonderful to see you, son. How are you?”

“I’m good, Dad. Yourself?” he answers, offering his hand to shake.

“Nonsense, Jeff, give your father a hug,” his father insists, stepping past the proffered hand and extending his arms.

He smells like Old Spice and stale cigarettes, and the hug is brief and somewhat awkward.

“When did you become a hugger, Carl?” Diana asks teasingly, and Carl balks.

“A father should hug his son,” he says defensively.

“Dinner is ready,” Teena pipes in, her demeanor still standoffish and perturbed. “Carl, will you please cut the bread?”

“Of course, my dear. I’d be happy to,” Carl says jovially, and they file into the dining room, wine glasses in hand.

Teena has prepared meatloaf, mashed potatoes, peas and a green salad, and they discuss local and national politics while they eat. Diana and Carl have an easy, practiced banter, while Teena is quiet and sullen. He catches her watching him each time he looks her way, an apprehensive expression on her face, and thinks to himself that he’d like to get her alone later and try to find out what’s on her mind.

“Oh, did you tell Jeff about the foundation, dear?” Carl interjects, and Teena shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“No, you go on ahead,” she says, pushing peas around her plate with her fork.

“Great news,” Carl says, beaming at him. “The Children’s Leukemia Foundation has established a grant in Samantha’s honor. It will be awarded annually to the family with the greatest need, and will cover the complete cost of treatment and housing. Isn’t that incredible?”

“Wow,” Jeff says, taken aback. “That’s amazing. I didn’t know that something like that was in the works.”

“Nor did we, son. It was a tremendous surprise. What a beautiful way to remember your sister,” Carl says. “They’re calling it the Samantha Ann Spender Hopes and Dreams Grant.”

Jeff nods, forcing a smile. He looks over at his mother and finds her staring vacantly at her water glass, her eyes shimmering.

“Dinner was delicious, Teena. I’m going to step outside for a smoke,” Carl says as he pushes his chair back and stands.

“I thought you were going to quit, Dad,” Jeff says sternly, and Carl brushes him off with the wave of a hand.

“I’m an old man, Jeff. Let me enjoy life’s little pleasures, eh?”

“I’ll join you, Carl,” Diana says, stacking her plate on top of Teena’s and taking them both to the kitchen. “My little pleasure is inhaling the second hand smoke.”

Alone at the table, he watches his mother until she lifts her head and pushes her mouth into a thin smile.

“That’s great, about the grant,” he says, and she nods. “Still hard to talk about, though, huh?”

“Yes,” she rasps, then takes a sip from her water. “I think it may always be difficult to talk about your sister.”

He stands from the table and lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder, then clears all the dishes and cutlery. In the kitchen, he’s rinsing plates and loading the dishwasher when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he has the distinct feeling he’s being watched. He flashes his eyes over to the window and finds Diana and his father standing side by side, her arms crossed over her chest and his hand holding a lit cigarette to his lips. Upon realizing that he sees them, Diana lifts one hand and waves, smiling. He waves back, but something in the back of his mind is sending him a warning signal that he doesn’t understand.

He’s grateful when Diana offers to drive home. Streetlights flash in bursts of red through his eyelids as he calls forth hazy memories of Samantha’s final days. Her pale, drawn skin, the dark hallows under her eyes, her dry, cracked lips. At twelve, he understood and yet also could not possibly understand what was happening. That his little sister would be gone forever, that there was to be no recovery, no coming back. For months after her death he dreamt of alternative explanations, of bright flashing lights and bad men taking her away. His parents finally sent him to a therapist in an attempt to help him understand the finality and the senselessness. Samantha was gone. Dead. Not lost, not missing. Never coming back.

They slump through the door at nearly midnight, and Diana hands him his blood pressure medication before she heads upstairs to get ready for bed. He swallows the pill and an entire glass of water, then takes Frenchie for a quick walk. By the time he crawls into bed, Diana is already snoring softly, but he finds himself tossing and turning, unable to succumb to sleep. When he finally drifts off, he has the dream again. The one where he is frozen in fear, and Samantha is calling for him, and there’s nothing he can do. He’s helpless, just like he was in reality, to help her.

It’s a truth he will seemingly never be able to recover from.

Tagging @today-in-fic ay

[sam-loves-seb]

wip wednesday

happy wip wednesday !!

haven't done one of these in a while but i have so many wips going on right now that i haven't and/or can't start posting yet and i'm itching to get some of this out there in the world

tagging: anyone who wants to share a bit of their wip !

this one's going to be kind of a longer one so i'll put it under the cut:

***

Ian stands frozen on the floor.

He thinks he can make it back to the kitchen without Mickey seeing him if he moves now, right fucking now before he finishes paying and turns around, so Ian tries to scoop up his bin, the table only half cleared, but he bangs his knee into the side of the booth and the silverware rattles loudly.

Mickey looks over at him suddenly, and it’s like Ian can’t breathe.

There’s a buzz—a thrill—that thrums through his body. It starts just under his sternum and goes all the way out to his fingers and his toes. His face feels hot, his cheeks definitely pink by now, and his hands twitch on the bin, suddenly too energized to stay still.

“Fuck,” Mickey mutters, then turns back to Fiona. “Does your whole fucking family work here now, or did you guys move into the back room?”

“It’s just me and Ian,” she tells him easily, handing him his change. “Debbie’s… visiting.”

Debbie makes a noise. “Debbie is just trying to eat her pancakes while she gets harassed by her bitch of a sister.”

Ouch. Ian watches the near imperceptible flinch on Fiona’s face and knows that one had to hurt.

“What for?” Mickey asks, glancing at Ian again briefly before turning his attention on Debbie.

That look is enough to get Ian moving again, quickly clearing away the lasts of the coffee mugs and water cups. He feels… He doesn’t know what he feels. Only knows that he does feel which is more than he’s been able to say in a long time.

“She wants to kill my baby,” Debbie answers.

“What baby?”

“The one growing inside of me.”

“You’re pregnant?” Mickey asks incredulously, eyebrows jumping high before furrowing in confusion. “You’re like… twelve.”

Debbie glares at him. “I’m fifteen.”

“Same shit.”

“Mickey!” Fiona says suddenly, like she just had an idea. “You have a kid.”

Mickey blinks. “Yeah.”

“Can you talk some sense into Debbie and tell her how much it sucks?”

Ian’s hand hovers over the last mug he sets in the bin. He waits for it, turns his head and looks for it.

Mickey thumbs his lip, sort of shrugs. “S’not that bad.”

Fiona rolls her eyes.

Debbie beams.

And Ian? Well, Ian fucking laughs.

It’s a short, single puff of air, but it’s loud enough to get Mickey’s eyes back on him. He glares at Ian, his jaw clenched and his eyes cold, and it makes Ian’s blood sing.

“Since when?” Ian spits out in pure disbelief.

“Since none of your fucking business,” Mickey bites back without hesitating.

Ian opens his mouth to reply, but—

“Maybe if you’d actually stuck around, you’d know.”

Ian flinches at that. His body actually lurches back half an inch like he’s been burned, and he starts to remember the kind of pain the boy standing across from his is capable of inflicting.

He kind of wants him to do it again.

“Okay, Mickey,” is all he says instead.

He grabs his bin full of dirty dishes and turns towards the kitchen, reveling in the feel of Mickey’s eyes on the back of his head the entire way there.

Once he’s out of sight though…

Ian drops the bin loudly on the counter. “Fuck!” he whisper-shouts, running his hands through his hair.

He feels like he might die. Like his heart is beating so hard it’ll break his ribs, like it’ll beat right out of his chest. His body is on fucking fire, and his hands are shaking.

He’s… angry.

He thinks.

Ian honestly can’t tell the difference anymore. Ever since he got on his meds, even after they stabilized him and leveled him out, he’s been in this fog. It’s thick and it’s heavy and it makes everything feel almost exactly the same.

Like nothing at all.

Until Mickey fucking Milkovich walks into his place of work and orders lunch and talks to his sisters like he knows them well—because he does, doesn’t he? He knows them better than most after all the time he’s spent at the Gallagher house over the last few years.

He looks at them like they were friends, once, maybe. In another life. But he looks at Ian with hatred in his curled fists and anger in his clenched jaw and something—something—that he’s desperate to hide behind the cold, empty façade in his eyes.

And Ian—yeah, Ian kind of hates him a little bit too.

But there’s more, so much more, bubbling just under the surface, just out of reach, and as Ian is desperate to grasp at it, to understand it, the adrenaline from the confrontation starts to ebb. The fog starts to settle around his peripheral once again, and he puts his palms on the edge of the sink and curls his fingers over the edge, gripping hard to the cool metal basin.

***

-- an excerpt from a sbb fic coming to an archive near you in 2024

[j-onedrabbles]

𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒉 𝒔𝒊𝒙: 20 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 cw: cursing wc: 0.8k

Y/n quickly dug through her closet to find something to wear. She didn’t plan on going out so she didn’t bother getting out of her pajamas this morning. Now she was going on a date? Utter panic.

“Pick up your goddamn phone Jisung,” Y/n muttered as she searched through her shirts.

“What do you want?” Jisung finally picked up his phone

“What do I wear?” She asked as she looked over at her phone she had propped up against near her closet while the video call rang.

“Y/n, baby, he’s not gonna care what you wear.”

“I was dressed damn near like a whore last night. I don’t wanna show up in sweats.”

“He’s already seen you at your sexist. Go with your comfiest. If he doesn’t like it, I’ll fight him.”

“I feel like I was better off calling Jinnie.”

“Rude! Minho’s one of my best friends, I know him best!”

“Then what do I wear?!”

“Something comfy and cute! It’s just coffee!”

“I know but still!”

“Don’t make me go to your place.”

“You don’t want to get out of bed and you know it.”

“You know me so well.”

Y/n grabbed a few items and showed them to her friend. Ultimately it was decided on jeans and an oversized T-shirt and sweater. Y/n slipped on a pair of sneakers as she grabbed her wallet and keys and made her way down the coffee shop, only hanging up with the changling when she got to the door.

Minho was standing in line and turned when he heard the door. He offered her a smile as she walked in and saw him. Y/n joined him in line, offering the same smile.

“Waiting long?” She asked as she stood next to him

“No. Got here a couple of minutes ago,” Minho shrugged, “How’s your morning been?”

“Quiet. Kind of planned to have a lazy day before this so I rushed to get ready,” Y/n laughed

“You're not doing anything over the break?”

“Not really. I have some work for courses I need to do but other than that I don't have much.”

The two followed the line as the next person stepped up to order. “No work?”

“I kinda quit my job so I'm looking for another one. I'm living off my savings at the moment.”

“Can I ask why?”

“After we get our drinks I’ll tell ya,” Y/n said as they stepped up to the register.

The two ordered their drinks before going and getting a seat at a table, “you didn't have to pay for mine,” Y/n commented

“I asked you out, I pay,” Minho replied, “back to what you were saying.”

“What were we talking about before?”

“Why you left your job,” Minho reminded her, thinking it was kind of cute that she had forgotten their previous topic.

“Oh yeah! It was a toxic work environment and I just didn't feel fully comfortable there,” Y/n explained

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. My boss was this older lady who made it worse. It's the small boutique up the street and she never really like me because of me being a Fae and coworkers made it worse.”

“But she knew you were a Fae when she hired you?”

“No. She was out of town when I got hired. Her daughter was super nice to me. When the boss came back the dynamic shifted, so I left.”

“Is it hard finding a job as a siren?”

“Sometimes? It really depends. Small businesses usually will take any employee they can get in my experience so they don't care if you are human or fae. Corporates are a hit or miss.”

“Sounds kinda rough,” Minho sighed as one of the workers brought over their drinks. The two thanked them as they left.

“It's a little stressful. I'm just using this break to relax and hang out with my friends.”

“Are you going to any more parties?”

“Probably, I don't know. I just tag along with the guys. After the last one, I think we're all up in the air about frat parties.”

“Jisung told me about the rumor and why the guys left early.”

“Surprised you are only now hearing it,” Y/n chuckled as she sipped her drink

“I don't pay attention to the gossip. Seungmin likes knowing things so he brought it up.”

“I'm just surprised it made it here.”

“Bin said he wants to be invited next time we drink together. Not at a party.” Minho didn't want to dwell on the subject any longer

“I’ll let the guys know. They’ll be excited to have some more people over,” Y/n smiled

The two sat at the cafe for a bit longer talking and finishing their drinks. Minho offered a walk around the city which Y/n took him up on. The two walked and talked until the sun went down. Minho walked the girl back to her place before saying good night.

“Text me when you get home,” Y/n called before shutting her door. Minho smiled to himself as he made his way back to his own apartment.

←PREV|NEXT→ MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

a/n: triple update today I guess 🤭

taglist: @xxoche3erryxxo @iadorethemskz @maeleelee @morningstardada @sungookie @mistlitmoonlight @junebug032 @m111nho

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten (Part 3)

We finish our breakfast and help to clean up, and then Claire and I leave to check our bags into our hostel. It’s not far away, just a few streets over but even by the time the sun has fully risen and the early morning fog has dissipated it remains bitterly cold. We leave our things on our beds, two singles in a private room, and I quickly put on another layer under my jumper. My mother, who was, to my chagrin, right once again, insisted that I bring thermals with me. I’m thankful for them now as I roll the warm jersey over my body and feel my skin tingle with heat. 

Feeling more adequately prepared, Claire and I take the train into the centre of the city and wander around taking in the sights. “It really is quite nice, in a harsh sort of way.” She comments. “It’s weird that there’s that sort of mixture of really old buildings and then new ones, all butted up against each other.” We stand looking at the Brandenburg gate for a while, take some photographs of each other and then walk through an enormous public park with bare trees that I can imagine would be full and bursting with beautiful colour in the summertime. There are other people milling about a bit, pushing buggies and walking dogs, but on the whole it feels empty compared to the photographs I’ve seen on Jude’s Instagram page where he and his friends sat on crowded lawns, drinking beers, or swimming in the lakes. Despite the bleakness of the season, I still find it easy to imagine the life a person might enjoy in a place like this. 

We find a great Chinese restaurant for lunch, where the waiter flirts outrageously with Claire while pretending I’m not there, but the food is delicious, and afterwards we throw ourselves elbow deep in thrift shop bins, pulling out anything and everything that looks remotely mid-century. I find a pair of lavender flares and a ruched lilac top and buy them for a combined cost of six euros, while Claire settles on a black polo neck top and a white mini skirt. Later on she scores big with a pair of white knee height boots.  

“Are you having fun?” I ask her while we drink coffee in an Irish pub near the Checkpoint Charlie, our bags crowded around our feet, and she tells me that it’s nice to get away from it all for a while. I nod, knowing just what she means. 

When the evening folds in and the sun gives way to a moonless sky, we hop on the U Bahn back to Neukolln. The streets have burst into life now with music that streams out from the clubs and the bars. Jude buzzes us into his apartment and we trudge up the seven stories on legs weary from walking, but seeing his face on the other side of the door makes me feel like life is slowly pouring back into my bones. 

“Welcome back.” he says to us, and he has a swipe of dried plaster on his cheek that I itch to wipe away for him. He looks as tired as I feel, but even so he’s in the middle of cooking yakisoba noodles for us, and the small apartment is filled with the aroma of soy sauce and shiitake mushrooms. He has a bottle of sake open on the counter, and pours a glass for each of us. 

“Wow, you wouldn’t get this at the Ritz.” I settle onto a bar stool at the counter to watch him cook as Claire heads to freshen up in the bathroom. “How was your day?”

“Busy, as usual. It’s been just kind of crazy lately, what with everything, deadlines and whatnot… Like I’m not really in the headspace to be all that creative, which isn’t ideal because I’ll need to have my final project ready for the exhibit, well, soon. Very soon.”

“I know how it is.” I muse. “Something about the period between Christmas and summer always feels so manic. I feel as though you blink and it’s passed you by.”

“Exactly.” He grabs a bottle of mirin and splashes a glug onto the sizzling pan. “But I hope your work is going well. Seems like you’ve been pretty much killing it with the illustrations and the murals.”

“Yeah, my Valentine’s Day cards sold really well.” I boast. “Right now I’m working on some for Father’s day.”

“Ah, an important day.”

“Right.” I say, knowing that we both have relatively useless fathers. I glance around me to take in the room, with lamps lit and casting warm light over the furniture. There are candles lighting too, dotted around on various shelves and tables, and a shiver of something, maybe appreciation, or comfort, ripples through me. “It’s so nice to be here.”

“I know, it’s actually so rare that one of us is in the other’s space like this, isn’t it?” A pause. “Except for the last time I saw you, obviously, and I bled all over your kitchen table, which we can strike from the record.”

I chuckle. “I think it counts. It was pretty fun, even with all of the blood.”

“Did you ever get that t-shirt cleaned?”

“Oh god, no. It was destroyed, but don’t worry, I chucked it into the bin.”

“Glad to know you haven’t been wearing it around the place.”

“How’s your eyebrow now, by the way?”

He turns to grin at me. “Scarred.”

“Oh, no way.” I say, and he comes to lean on the counter so that we’re eye to eye and I can see it,  the skin shiny and pink, and it slices right through his eyebrow, forging a gap in its wake. “Wow.” I say “I can’t lie, it’s a bit iconic.” 

“Sexy, right?” He says proudly, and his eyes do a quick tour of my features. He gently takes his lower lip into his mouth, like he’s thinking about saying something else, but then Jonas makes a loud entrance and throws open the fridge to grab a bottle of beer. “Hello again, Evie Kilbride.” He says loudly. “I’ve heard that you will be choosing the movie tonight”

“Am I?” I say. “I suppose that I can, if you like.”

“Yes.” He says. “I just have the feeling that you have the very best taste in everything. It’s all in your hands.”

After dinner, the four of us settle around the television and watch Black Swan. It’s late now, and we are tired, and nobody says a single word, no questions, no comments. When Jude shifts positions next to me and accidentally presses his thigh against mine I wait for him to move it, but he doesn’t. In the dark of this room, where the only light is the glow from the television screen, I risk a glance at his face, and he looks right back at me, saying nothing. But I swear there’s something in his eyes, because at that moment they seem to glitter even brighter than the city lights outside the window.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[missjoolee]

For the physical intimacy prompts - Resting your head in your partner's lap. Only if you feel like it! <3

(I WAS ALMOST IN BED. I ALMOST WAS UNDER THE COVERS AND THEN THIS SAID “NO. GO WRITE THE JUKE. GO WRITE FOR THE JEUDI.” AND THEN I DID)

Writing has always been Julie’s way of addressing her feelings. The ones she is sure of tend to make their way to her notebook, or Luke’s, but it’s the ones she is unsure of, that she’s testing the waters on what words are best to describe how she feels, that find their way to her dream box. And recently, she’s been having... thoughts. Ones she’s not sure of. Ones that definitely cannot find their way into a notebook a certain band-mate might see. She’s feeling pretty confident that allowing the words to stew for a few days in her dream box, settle into her bones, will bring her clarity. She just has to trust the process.

It’s as she’s folding the scrap of paper and reaching up to grab the box that she glimpses lights on down in the studio. That’s odd because she knows she turned them off when the band called it quits for the day, having to get home for family dinners and do homework for the next day. Glancing at the clock, she sees it’s after 10:30, way past curfew for any of them on a school night.

It’s probably nothing. She grabs her phone and heads out of her bedroom. There is no reason to suspect that someone has broken in. Lots of people have access to the studio, the guys are constantly in and out of the building. She probably just missed a text or something. She taps on the screen of her phone to check. Nothing. Okay, so maybe it’s not one of the guys but that doesn’t mean that it’s anyone dangerous! Maybe a homeless person wandered in, all she’d have to do is ask them politely to leave. It’s really probably not a thief. Oh god, but what if it was?! There is a lot of expensive equipment in there. And the whole neighborhood knows! It’s not like they’ve tried to hide the fact that the band practices there. By now, she’s made it to the bottom of the stairs and maybe she should just grab the bat out of Carlos’ baseball bag. Just as a precaution.

After she steps out of the house and closes the door gently behind her, she calls Flynn.

“Hey, Underachiever! The calculus homework giving you problems? Eyy? Get it? Problems?”

“Flynn!” Julie whisper shouts as she starts creeping along the path around the house. “There is someone in the studio!”

“Wha- Call someone then!”

“I called you!”

“Jules, I mean like the cops or something! What good is it calling me?”

“I’m not going to call the cops,” Julie argues. “What if it’s one of the guys? Besides, if anything happens, you’ll know right away and can call the cops then!”

She can feel the unimpressed stare she knows Flynn would be giving her if she could. She slowly unlatches the gate and slips through.

“You better not be saying that you are going in. Alone. We have watched too many horror movies to be doing something that stupid, Julie!”

“I have a baseball bat!” Julie winces. That sounded a lot more helpful in her head. “Everything will be fine, Flynn. Calling you was just a precaution.”

The moonlight glints off something wedged between the retaining wall and the trash bins. She keeps low as she speed walks over to investigate, Flynn’s voice going into detail on how bad a plan this is. A bike leans against the wall. One she recognizes for the Blink-182 and New Found Glory stickers near the handlebars.

Standing up straight, she interrupts Flynn. “It’s Luke... I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hangs up before Flynn can respond and tucks her phone into the pocket on the front of her hoodie. Cracking the studios door open isn’t as quiet as she hopes and Luke is already jumping up from the couch and approaching the piano,his back to her, by the time the gap is large enough to walk through.

“Luke? What are you doing here?” Her voice only holds curiosity but she can see how stiffly he’s holding his whole body. One of his hands moves up to his face but he doesn’t turn to face her. Something is wrong. She slowly drifts closer. His hand drops down onto the lid of the piano before he responds with a tight,

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb anyone.”

“Is everything okay?” She takes another step towards him. And another.

“Y-yeah.” It sounds like his voice is getting caught in his throat with the word. “Ev-everything’s fine.”

Julie’s right behind him now and he’s still facing away from her. She reaches out and gently grabs onto his forearm, lightly pulling him to turn towards her. There’s the barest resistance before he gives in, shoulders slumping. Red rimmed eyes meet hers and her heart is breaking for him. For whatever situation is causing his eyes to brim with tears and breathe in a quiet sob.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he shakily lets out before it becomes too much and the tears begin to fall.

His body shakes as the tears become rivers, flowing down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. Julie doesn’t let go of his arm and pulls him back over to the couch, pushing him to sit down. She moves to sit down next to him, leaving more space between them than ever had before, just for a moment. Because then she tugging on his bicep to get him to lay down, head resting against the soft fleece of her pajama pants. She doesn’t know the cause of his pain but she will do everything she can to comfort him through it.

“Shhh. You’re okay,” she says quietly, running her fingers through his hair. Brushing it back from his forehead. Lightly scraping her nails against his scalp. Over and over she does this as he cries, her pajamas becoming damp. She holds him with her other hand, and she whispers the words her mom would whisper to her when it was Julie that needed comforting. As his sobs begin to fade and the sniffles increase, he reaches up and grabs her hand and clutches it against his chest. It’s then that Julie determines that the words she put in her dream box earlier were truth. She loves Luke. And while right now is not the time to confess those feelings, nothing is stopping her from showing them by continuing to comfort him.

His breathing slows down and the sniffles stop, and Julie can’t stop herself from leaning down and brushing her lips against his forehead as sleep takes him.

[tarithenurse]

Caring for you

Fandom: MCU Pairing/starring: Loki x gn!reader Content: Illness (cold/flu), fluff. Loki being attentive and not caring about bed hair and snot. A/N: One of my best friends is ill and we thought up how Loki might care for his beloved who has fallen to the flu or something similar.

Caring for you

You know something is off even before you open your eyes...mainly because it feels like you can’t open them, actually, and that your entire face is clogged. Ugh. Turning under the covers, you are happy for the layer of fur lying on top to keep you warm because you were shivering, cold to your core and achy.

This isn’t good. You’ve only just arrived to Asgard the day before and now you are ill?

You can hear Loki bustling around in the adjoining room and the thought of him near brings some comfort. Maybe he’s got a fire going? The heating in the palace is mainly cared for with roaring fires in huge fireplaces and right now that seems particularly attractive because the bed doesn’t seem to keep you warm enough.

Sitting up, first thing you do is go straight into a coughing fit that feels like it scratches the bottom of your lungs. By the time it seizes and you can swing your legs out over the edge of the bed, Loki has come into the bedroom. You can feel his gaze take in the mess you are as you prepare to stand up – a task that suddenly seems daunting.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

The smile you send him is halfhearted at best. “I was hoping to warm up by the fire...” you explain in a whisper, seemingly incapable of producing more sound than that.

Loki comes over and places a cool hand on your forehead. “You’re burning up...”

“No...I’m cold!”

“You’ve got a fever, darling. Tell you what,” he continues on the same breath, “lie back and I’ll get you some things that can warm you.” You’re want to consider the options but he doesn’t give you the chance and rather helps guide you back in bed where he tucks the covers tightly around you. “Just give me a moment, my love.”

He’s gone before you can protest and you can hear him call for a servant.

It takes another moment but when he returns it’s with a large cup of steaming hot tea which he declares has honey in it to help soothe your throat. He helps you prop up the pillows and makes sure that the covers still are as high as possible to keep you warm. Then he leaves again, soon talking in a low murmur with the servant that has returned.

You drink the tea greedily, almost burning your tongue. The taste is soothing and you can feel the heat spreading through your chest as you swallow. It’s almost enough to make you feel comfortable...almost: a new bout of coughing wracks your body, leaving you winded.

It doesn’t take long before Loki returns, a green glow surrounding his hands and the item in it which looks like a heavy pillow.

“I got you a wheat bag,” he explains as the last of the magic seeps into it.

You get the meaning and even your fever addled brain understands why: as much as you would love to snuggle up with Loki, he’s body temperature is naturally cooler and would do nothing to keep you warm. He’s perfect to cuddle with on hot summer nights, but not in the winter.

Hugging the heated wheat pillow tight, you crawl down under the covers again. “Thank you,” you mumble, “can you do me another favour?”

“Anything for you,” Loki vows.

“Can you get me a bunch of tissues...my nose’s starting to run...”

He smiles and kisses your forehead, ignoring your protests that you might get him sick too.

...

You must have fallen asleep again, because when you look around the room next, the light slants in through the windows differently and a box of tissues (and a waste bin) is placed next to your bed.

It’s warm. Too warm. Shoving the heavy covers aside, you relish in the coolness of the air as it envelops you gently but a new coughing fit breaks the peace.

Loki hears it, or at least he appears within an instant and comes to feel your forehead. Tutting, the god turns the duvet over before lying it gently over your legs.

“I know you feel warm, darling, but try to remain under the covers as much as you can.” He silences your complaints with a kiss. “I’ve alerted the healers...they are preparing a tonic that can help you somewhat.”

Your mind doesn’t really take in the words, only the lingering relief from his cool lips on your forehead. “More?” you plead with your weak voice.

“More what, my pet?” he arches a brow at you.

“Cold...I’m so warm...you feel nice...”

He doesn’t say anything, just hushes you as he cups your face in his large hands and you close your eyes as you enjoy the soothing sensation and allow his seiðr to wash over you and plunge you into a comfortable darkness.

...

You sleep on an off, only using your waking moments to blow your nose, cough, or maybe drink some hot soup or tea that Loki keeps supplying you with.

This time you wake up to Loki carrying a tray with a large bowl as he enters the room.

“Got something to alleviate the congestion,” he explains as he waits for you to sit up before placing the tray in your lap.

The bowl is filled with steaming water that carries the scent of peppermint. Next to it lies a towel and your love helps you lean over the bowl to inhale the steam while capturing the vapours (and your head) under the towel. It must look ridiculous.

You sit there for near 10 minutes and finally you can breathe freely again which you celebrate by going into a new coughing fit...although not as bothersome as the previous ones. Loki strokes your back through it, waiting patiently for you to calm down again before leaving the room briefly.

It’s dark out, the Asgardian winters bringing the night early, but you don’t mind as it calls for candle light and cozy evenings in front of a roaring fire with a good book. Today might be different, but Loki does everything he can to ensure that you are comfortable. More tea is brought to you along with a concoction that he places on the bedside table.

“The healers recommend you take it tonight, if you can wait, as it may cause you to fall into a deep sleep,” Loki explains.

“Does it taste okay?” you ask with concern.

He chuckles and kisses your forehead. “Not to my recollection...but it works wonders.” His fingers trace the line of your jaw and your shiver from a new wave of cold. “Now what do you say to a warm bath?”

Of course your answer is a yes and despite feeling icky, you even allow him to help undress before you step into the massive tub and allow the hot water to engulf you. Oh, it feels like heaven as the heat seeps into your aching joints and muscles. Breathing deeply (and miraculously avoiding coughing), you inhale the aroma from the bath salts Loki has used.

You’re so engrossed by the surge of wellbeing that you barely register Loki stripping down too before he steps into the bath and takes his place behind you, long legs stretched to surround your frame as he begins to soap you up. Long strokes are interspersed with insistent kneading that loosens the knots and tensions you’ve accumulated in your shoulders and back due to the illness. It hurts so good and you can’t hold back the moans and whimpers when he finds particularly stubborn spots.

Beginning to dose off, you’re only vaguely aware that Loki uses some of his magic to keep the water warm, he himself being the only cool element to the perfect bath as you nestles against his firm chest.

Once or twice, you’re wracked by vicious coughs but the heat and steam does wonders for your lungs too.

All good things come to an end, though, and eventually Loki helps you out of the bath and towels you dry with the biggest and floofiest towel you’ve ever seen. Then he helps you dress before insisting that he gets to bundle you up in wool and furs to an excess that has you starting to break out in a sweat again before he’s satisfied and picks you up, carrying you out onto the balcony where he sits with you on his lap.

“Don’t you get cold?” you ask.

Your love has only added a simple fur-infused cape to his outfit and out here in the night it’s freezing cold.

“No, the winter weather suits me well, my pet,” he calms you.

Up above, the stars are glittering from the inky sky, reflected is a billion sparkles in the frost and snow that covers every surface of Asgard. Only the Bifrost, which you can make out beyond the city, seems to be free of a layer of white, gleaming instead in all the colours of the rainbow as it stretches towards the end of the sea.

It’s breathtaking.

“Here, drink this,” Loki urges, holding a small flask to your lips.

The healers’ tonic tastes overly sweet and sour, like lemon covered with a thick layer of sugar...but the heat that spreads through your chest is soothing and for the first time all day, it doesn’t seem like your lungs are scratching.

“Up there,” Loki begins, pointing to the brightest star, “is the eye of the Big Bear.” With a soothing voice, he begins to tell you about the constellations and the stories that go with them and it’s to that, that you fall asleep again, bundled up snugly on Loki’s lap.

[kkyeomies]

I'm back from my work out session 😂 I can finally send a message.

So what would be SZK reaction to realizing they are crushing on someone and why ?

I don't know if writting for the 8's of them is too much for you in one go. If so, in that case you can only do hyung line if you want. 🥰 Thanks.

You shouldn't have ask because I might spam you 😂😂.

omg this is so cute! i’m gonna try some different scenarios for each member, i hope you don’t mind :)

okay so minho was the first person to come to my mind in this scenario. the moment it would click for him was when you didn’t show up to the humanities lecture. you weren’t in your usual spot near the front of the classroom, that corner his eyes would always wander to when the professor just wouldn’t make sense to him. what happened? he had your number, from a group project you were both in a while ago, but you weren’t that close for him to text you randomly. but when you walked in 10 minutes late, with disheveled hair and what was probably your (really cute) pajamas, he felt a wave of relief knowing you were okay. only after you had apologized for interrupting and gotten to your seat did he realize he had feelings for you. a quick smile thrown his way when your eyes met only confirmed his thoughts, and he had only one thing to ask you after class. would you like to get coffee with me?

for chan, i feel he’s someone who would mistake someone having a crush on him for being friendly. you and chan have known each other for a few years, and having a crush on him was something you’d developed over time. you weren’t the only one though; almost everyone on campus found chan attractive, so he could never really tell the difference. everyone was a sweetheart to him. so when you asked him if he was free to study for your upcoming music composition exam at your apartment (my roommate won’t be home so we’ll have the place to ourselves), he cheerfully agreed and said he’d bring his music pad. you walked away, feeling giddy and defeated at the same time (why wouldn’t he take the hint?). he never put two and two until you were out of sight and han jisung cuffed the back of his head with a she wants to hit that, dumbass.

it was funny, because hyunjin couldn’t stand the sight of you. both of you being overly competitive and hot-headed, your weekly ceramics class always ended in a fight of some sort, providing the rest of the students a show and gossip material for the next few days. but that changed when one time your fight had accidentally gone too long and too far, after everyone had left. in the heat of the moment, you had mistakenly tipped over his work of the day, perfectly sculpted and ready for the kiln. the anger on your faces slowly morphed into shock. but for him, rather than being furious (which he would have if it was anyone else besides you), he could only think about how pretty you looked, with dried clay over your cheek, neck, and work pants; the welling of tears in your eyes as you prepared to apologize flipped a switch in his head, was she always this beautiful?

changbin would be a victim of mutual pining, but not realizing you liked him back. in his mind, there was no one who could deny how amazing you were; you were so kind, sweet, and gorgeous. how you never hesitated to help someone out and always knew the right things to say had him head over heels for you the first few weeks of getting to know you. but as observant as he was, he failed to see your partiality towards him. he missed how he was the first person you’d go to for advice, how he was the only person you’d use a nickname for, how he never had to repeat his coffee order to you. to him, that was just you being you. so when you came up to him and his group of friends all fidgety and blushing, he was utterly confused. until you locked eyes with him and blurted out would you like to get dinner with me today, bin?

i’ll do maknae line soon, but thank you so much for this ask i really enjoyed doing this!! please send more :)

[atonalginger]

Snippet Sunday

This Sunday I have a sneak peek of an upcoming Bella fic Shrouded Certainty that centers on the Generdyne job, or what would be the generdyne mission if it weren't Bella...lady's got connections.

for this I used Guillemets (« ») when Bella and Rokov speak in Russian, similar to how I did in Sirens of the Stars so that's what's going on toward the beginning.

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Sinking dread gripped Bella’s gut as they rode the elevator up to the boardwalk. It was almost funny to Bella how much this city still got to her after all the years she lived on the platform. She'd spent close to half her live on this platform working, surviving, fighting, living, growing as a person and yet anytime she came back it felt like the first time. The lights, the sounds, the smells, the crowds, all of it tore at her and threatened to overwhelm her.

«Are you alright, darling?» Rokov asked, leaning close with his lips brushing her ear, «you look troubled.»

Great, it’s noticeable, caution fussed.

Because we’re close, practical pointed out.

«I’m fine.» Bella said while staring at her reflection in the elevator door.

«Is it the meeting?» he asked, a strong hand tenderly rubbing up and down her back, «or something else?»

There was no escaping his questions, she knew that after months of working and traveling together. He might drop it for a time if she told him to but he would always circle back. Not because he was nosy or pushy but because he appeared to genuinely care about her well being.

It was for that reason he was the only Fleet captain, other than Huan Daiyu, to know about Sophie. And Daiyu barely counted since they’d known each other longer than either had run with the Fleet. He still hadn’t met Sophie and never once pushed to, respecting her desire to keep her little girl as far from the Fleet as humanly possible.

«Something else,» she said finally, «the meeting will be simple enough.»

«You know you are safe, yes?» Rokov asked before kissing her neck.

A warm shiver ran down her back, his hand relaxing her as much as it could in her current condition. She knew his words to be true, he took his role as her second and guard very seriously. She was still blown away that an established captain would demote himself to work beneath his station but he was happy and that was what mattered.

But even if he hadn’t been standing with her in the elevator, Bella would have been safe. She hadn’t been at risk walking the streets of Neon since she was 22 years old. She was a known entity to street rats and corpo suits alike and everyone knew not to fuck with her. And still the feeling of sinking dread gripped her tight.

“Da,” she said softly with a nod as the doors slid open.

Loud adverts blared from overhead speakers and glowing kiosks, the bright lights hurting her eyes and head alike. The stench of sweaty crowds and overfilled trash bins smacked at her nose, Bella swallowing hard to avoid gagging. It never ceased to amaze her how little Bayu cared about the first impression of his ‘fair’ city for tourists. Arrogant bastard was so confident in the draw of the Astral Lounge and other attractions that he didn’t bother to keep the streets clean and despite the horrid conditions he was right.

«Let’s get to the hotel so you can lay down before we get to work,» Rokov slid his hand from her back to around her waist, gently leading her toward the Volii Hotel, «see if we can shake the storm clouds.»

«Sweet idea,» Bella looked over to see Rokov glaring at something in front of them. «Zhenya, what’s wrong?»

“Cap didn’t mention you’d be here,” a nasally voice sneered from nearby. Bella suddenly felt surrounded as Rokov’s hand slipped away, “though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, all smart working girls keep muscle near to keep the Johns in line.”

Rokov let out a low, rumbling growl, his hands balling into fists. Bella looked toward the voice and found a rail thin zoner with faded multicolored hair and bloodshot eyes. He was dressed for the club with a scarlet suit and black shirt. Flanking him were two tougher looking men more in line with what she’d come to expect out of Crimson Fleet pirates.

“I take it ‘Cap’ is that drunk bitch stumbling around Madame Sauvage’s place?” Bella asked with a head tilt, noting the three men behind them near the elevator in the reflection of a billboard’s glare, “shouldn’t you be busy helping her pack? She was sent her orders before I left the Key.”

“We were sent to collect you,” the well-dressed pirate said with a sinister smile, “our captain has words for you.”

“Collect?” Bella scoffed, her practical side stuffing caution in her room for safety as she prepared for a fight, “I’ll give that drunk some credit, she’s got brass ones thinking she can order that.”

“She did warn us you’d got it in your head you were special,” the suit looked her up and down, “I don’t see it, honestly.”

The three behind them were closing in and a flash of white in the reflection told her they had novalights. Practical bared her pearly jaws, hissing liking a cornered cat at them while Bella did her best to remain calm. She blinked slowly as she turned her attention from the reflection to the suit, “Then you should head over to the Reliant Medical to get your eyes checked.”

“She warned us you thought you were funny too,” he took a step forward.

“Did she warn you that if your boys lay a finger on even a loose hair on my jacket that Delgado will feed you all your balls before dumping you on Suverov for attacking two captains?” Bella asked.

The two flanking the suit froze at the mention of Delgado, clearly remembering how vicious the big boss could be. A glance in the reflection showed the novalights were still aimed at the ground, but out all the same. The suit scoffed, “Neava endorsed Estelle’s orders.”

[distant-velleity]

Magnetism

Summary: The moment everyone's been waiting for, a non-memey first kiss for Chrysos and Santiago. Word count: 800+ A/N: I stayed up a little too late writing this last night because it was only supposed to be a 30-minute drabble before bed... then I had the idea to add imagery and metaphors and similes and some tension and--you get it. Anyway, enjoy! <3

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When they finally escape the hustle and bustle of the post-victory party, the waxing moon is hanging high in the sky. The air has settled to be deliciously cool for a near-summer evening, soothing the heat they still radiate after emerging from the crowded cafeteria. 

“Well,” says Santiago, gently nudging Chrysos’ shoulder with his as they walk, “here’s to the merman right next to me, who contributed to Night Raven’s first Spelldrive win against Royal Sword in a century.” 

He raises his distinctly non-alcoholic plastic cup of fruit punch, its translucent red contents lightly sloshing about in an imitation of wine. The sight causes Chrysos to snort.

“I didn’t do that much,” he argues, objectively. “Draconia got the final hit in, in the end.”

“Yeah, but who had the sense to use the flashy spells I taught him? Who took the initiative when the Ignihyde and Heartslabyul reps started arguing? Who helped Jamil give Malleus the perfect opening for a coup de grâce?” Santiago barely has to reach over to tap Chrysos on the chest. “I say it’s the guy right in front of me.”

“That’s… You’re…”

Chrysos doesn’t fancy himself a poet, but something about the way Santiago smiles fondly at him could be considered poetry—something about the ambient green lighting, the glow reflected in those golden eyes creasing with affection, the shockingly pure stutter it inflicts upon Chrysos’ heart. Something about the way he drops genuine praise shamelessly when he’s on the high of victory-inspired euphoria. Something about their proximity, the way that they’re drawn together like two magnets of different poles.

“I’m what?” asks Santiago teasingly.

“You’re…” Chryso grumbles a little under his breath. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Nuh-uh. Not for you. This is the truth right here, buddy.”

Chrysos, growing a bit red in the face, is glad that Santiago looks away to chug the last of his punch and toss the cup into a bin after saying that. 

It’s just the heat and humidity of having been stuck with so many people in one place, he wants to think, but even he knows better by now.

Meanwhile, they approach the wishing well in the courtyard, where emerald firelight gives way to the pearlescent illumination of the moon and the stars. 

“Hearing praise coming from your mouth somehow feels unusual,” Chrysos remarks, to hide how good all this praise makes him feel. To hide how he feels about it coming from this very sweet, very pretty beastman.

Santiago slows to a stop before the well.

“Then…” He opens his mouth to say something—before, apparently, quickly thinking better of it. “...Ahh, nevermind. That’s cheesy, even by my standards.”

“What?” Chrysos furrows his brows, coming to stand so close to the other that their arms—his crossed and Santiago’s prone at his sides—brush and press against each other. “So now you’re going to shut up? Just because it’s unusual doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear more.”

It’s Santiago’s turn to have his cheeks darken, one lanky hand coming up to hide his mouth. “But it’s sort of…” 

He hesitates for a few moments, maddening in how they feel like they last an eternity, then shakes his head with newfound determination. 

“You know what? It’s now or never.”

Chrysos holds his breath as Santiago leans in a little closer and caresses his cheek with a feather-light touch that gradually becomes more grounded, more confident. 

The beastman’s eyes, normally bright with a challenging sort of spirit, are semi-lidded but still possess the fierce earnestness of the sun. Their inherent brilliance puts to shame the moonlight veil draping over their surroundings; and while he searches for the courage to speak up, those eyes express the beginnings of what he wants to say. 

A gentle breeze blows past them amid the silence, carrying with it the entwined scent of the rainforest and the sea. 

“If you can’t believe in my praise,” Santiago murmurs at last, “then how about this?”

When their lips meet, gravitating towards each other in a slow start but quickly seizing the moment and pulling together, it’s not at all the messy thing Chrysos had been expecting. Instead, it’s drawn together by a sentimental magnetism that draws power from their polarizing differences. Rough but careful; desperate but precise; passionate but planned. It feels like someone has stolen the air from his lungs in the best possible way, replacing his senses with the endless freedom of flowers, fruit, and the open sky. 

It’s undeniably Santiago, and Chrysos—unafraid to use that forbidden four-letter word—loves it.

…Eventually, the sensation of their breaths thinning from metaphorical altitude leaves them with no choice but to pull away from the kiss. 

“I hope I did that right,” Santiago whispers, a little sheepish yet giddy with basking in the afterglow of it all.

“There’s no such thing as ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ when kissing,” Chrysos replies breathlessly, “only good and better. When it comes to you, at least.”

It’s hard to miss the way Santiago puffs up with pride, eyes glimmering.

Chrysos’s smile, one he hadn’t realized was tugging at his lips, grows. “Now hurry up and do it again. Even better this time.”

“On it, boss,” answers Santiago with an affectionate lilt to his voice, leaning in for another kiss.