#but they still need a safe place to learn how to rehearse with a large group

[cloama]

Throw any humans together and a new speech cadence emerges. My new favorite is Tiktoker voice. Like how is an entire generation of people suddenly good at public speaking? Does it translate to real public speaking? If so that would be amazing and save teachers so much time. I'm so interested.

[leftonraed]

The Night We Met - Episode 7

pairing : Taehyung x OC  genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au   word count : 5.9 k summary — Everything seems set fair for Taehyung and his niece, except you’re not in the picture much to their dismay. Warnings – smut scenes ahead, nothing too extreme I promise ;] Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7 

It must have been the tenth time Taehyung’s skimming his completed adoption request. His parents who arrived a little while ago let him have some peace and quiet in the short minutes they’ve got left before the hearing.  

His arms are resting on his knees and his hair hides his face from anyone walking down the large hallway. He relaxes his wrists, forcing himself to stare at anything else but the paper in his hands and calm his nerves.

He closes his eyes and tries to think of anything to disconnect from the noise of people buzzing around.

His mind takes him away for a moment, far enough to make his parents’ conversation nothing but a string of indistinct words. He’s being taken back to this morning, back to his earliest thought of the day – you.

He’d instantly conjured up a picture of you as soon as he had felt your arms wrapping around his body beneath the covers. His lips had stretched in a lazy smile while his hands slid down above yours. The feeling of your lips kissing the skin of his nape had thieved a soft groan of pleasure.

He’d turned around, taken his place between your legs, rubbing against their softness in slow moves before seeking your mouth blindly. You’d hugged him tight, answering his kiss just as zealously.

Taehyung isn’t sure how but he can still smell the scent your neck was giving off. It’s like you’re with him all over again.

The needy moan you had let escape once you had felt him pushing deeper within, had had him rolling his hips against yours for the first time, silently requesting more of those.  

The notion of your presence in his embrace was overwhelming. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He’d offered you some respite and buried his face in your neck and hair, thrusting harder, squeezing tighter, inhaling deeply as much as possible.

He could hear you, gasping by his ear while stifling you with his love. Your nails had dug in his back as his name had escaped you in a tired pant. He’d smothered you in a possessive and comforting hold as he had helped you ride out the sudden burst.

He’d followed closely, trapping his throaty grunts in your mouth with a demanding kiss while he was filling you up with more of himself.

Taehyung had never opened his eyes the whole time, he didn’t want to, he wanted to keep you here, underneath and stuck to him simply because it felt right.

Once the pleasurable feeling had worn off, he eventually blinked himself awake, only to be surrounded by a deafening silence and the absence of you.

He felt hot, exhausted and wet. The pillow was sticking to his face uncomfortably when he pulled himself up on his arms to glance down where you were supposed to be. He was left to discover himself in the mess you had driven him to make.

“Taehyung!”

He opens his eyes and looks up in surprise at the loud call from his father.

“You left the poor girl calling for you for a whole minute.”

He recognizes and finally acknowledges Hina’s teacher bent towards him. She had graciously accepted to take part in the hearing in his favor.

“Oh- Hum, I’m- I’m so sorry. I-”

“Don’t worry. I was telling your parents that I’d probably be elsewhere if I was in your shoes.”

“Right,” he trails, smiling awkwardly.

“Your face… It’s hum- a little red, are you okay?”

He shakes his hair in front of his eyes, hiding away in embarrassment, ineluctably forced to remember the last image he had of himself from this morning.

“You sure? You’re getting redder.”

Luckily, she’s cut off by Hina’s sudden burst of joy at his sight, who comes running their way under the smiles of his parents. Her grandparents are walking behind along with Choi Seoyoung.

Just as everyone is done greeting each other, the door leading to the adoption court judge opens welcoming everyone in.

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

Now reunited for good, it feels like the past three months away from each other never happened. Taehyung learns to cherish even more the moments in Hina’s company, indirectly ensuring himself he’s still a special place in her heart.

He makes time for her, from now on family will always come first. It took a couple of weeks for Hina to feel safe in his absence again and stop feeling like being him was going to be ephemeral.

On the other hand, Taehyung’s insecurities were directed towards his career, he struggled to make sense of his desires and priorities. Should I take a break? Should I quit? He still very much liked singing and writing music but one thing he was certain of, he’d need to make some changes in their interest.

One day Hina asked where you had gone and he realized all this questioning made him almost forget about you for the longest time ever.

After she had been taken away from him, he’d become aware he had no means to get in touch with you. He’d never needed your phone number because you had always been around. He’d never seen you use one when he came to think about it. He remembered the gym place you worked at but his touring abroad and busy schedule prevented him from visiting it right after you’d left.

He questioned one of the staff members in charge of human resources but the equipment had been improved and the data with any reference to you had been lost.

He just couldn’t believe it. In this day and age, he couldn’t find you. Just like this, you had vanished.

Hina was just as disheartened when he told her. She made him hate his helplessness all the more.  

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

It’s the end of the year.

Parents and children are huddled in front of the school doors, talking animatedly. Taehyung keeps his distance as he ends his chat on the phone with his mother.

“I think I got it the first fifteen times you said it,” he whines. “I’ll give you 4K HD Hina, the singer. Don’t worry. I won’t miss a thing from it. No, still nothing. I don’t think I’ll- we’ll ever see her again. Hm… She tries her best, you know, to not be sad about it but- yeah… It sucks. You should’ve come with dad. It could’ve helped her cheer up a little... I know. Make sure he waits three hours before he takes those pills again.”

The afternoon sunlight is harsh on his eyes when he takes a look and he has to turn around. He’s on his own, save the two or three people lingering outside, on their phones as well.

“You know, your brother must be very thankful to have you.”

Taehyung smiles awkwardly at his feet, shifting his weight.

“I hope she’s not disappointed because it’s just me. I hope he’s watching too, she rehearsed very seriously.” He makes his mother giggle. “I listened to her so many times… I just might as well go and sing with them.”

“You’d look cute.”

“I hope you really don’t plan on doing that. That’s not what I came here for.”

Taehyung turns around instinctively when he hears the sudden voice behind him but the sun hits his face barely letting him see anything even with his eyes covered.

He frowns, blinking as his eyes adjust and freezes.

That dress, he wonders.

The stranger gets closer until the sun is fully hidden behind and Taehyung feels blessed with an even more dazzling view when he recognizes you.

“Mom, I- I’ll call you later.” He trails, locking his phone as he can’t look away.

“Hi,” you say.

You’re here. You came.

You stare back, breaking into a lopsided smile when he’s still not replying.

His mouth opens but nothing comes out.

You wait, the time needed for you to take him in after all those months away and appreciate how he’s changed.

It’s your first time seeing him looking this elegant and formal and it suits him. His hair looks a little shorter. You’re glad to find him doing much better than when you’d left.

Your name is the first thing that he eventually lets out. “You’re here.”

“Of course,” fixing your eyes on him with a soft smile. “I made a promise, remember?”

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

Taehyung lets you lead the march after you’ve scolded him for making you two late. He finds himself glancing down at your hand holding his and at your back, staring shamelessly at the way the fabric hugs your flawless figure.

“It’s packed.” Your voice snaps him back in reality.

“Shit,” he mutters while looking around. “I promised her I’d sit in the front row.”

“This way,” you say but he doesn’t have time to react as you pull him strongly.

You find a bench on a high level.

“What are you doing? We’re all the way back now.”

“Stop whining and take my hand.” You say after climbing up the bench.

He listens and pulls himself up next to you. From this position, you can see the stage with no hindrance but it’s still quite distant.

The curtains are drawn and a group of toddlers is seen waiting behind. A few of them seem not to have moved away from their assigned position but most are either fooling around or look distressed, seeking their teachers and own parents.

Taehyung and you immediately find Hina, right in the center, standing tall and quiet as she skims the crowd. She slightly frowns when she still can’t see him after a third try until–

“Hina!”

She looks up and gazes further away where she’s heard the sudden call coming from. Her eyes widen at your sight.

You wave energetically ignoring the curious looks you’re drawing to yourself and Taehyung. He is staring as well, surprised. He looks back and feels warmth spreading in his entire being at her happiness.

“You can do this!”

Hina lifts her small arm to wave back, fighting the urge to run to you two.

“Yes, Hina! You can do this! Papa is so proud of you!”

“Thank you dad for your supporting words.” A voice suddenly announces in a microphone and laughter rises in the room making Taehyung turn a bright red while you stifle a chortle.

The voice continues, establishing silence, claiming the beginning of the show as the lights are dimmed.

He remembers to get his phone camera ready before the first notes echo. You never lose sight of Hina.

The children’s voices mingle in a surprisingly good harmony when the first lyrics are heard. You feel your heart thumping loudly in your chest as you listen to them, recognizing the lullaby you used to whisper to Hina so she’d fall asleep back during the trip.

Taehyung falters a quick second when you suddenly clasp your finger around his wrist. Making sure Hina’s still in the frame, he turns his head to look at you, noticing how emotional you’re getting.

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

Less than an hour later, the show ends to thunderous applause. Taehyung guides you to the side where children come out to join their family. You don't have a chance to think of something to say to each other when you suddenly feel small arms wrapping around your knees in a tight embrace.

You instantly smile at Hina when you see her looking up delighted and crouch down to pick her up.

“Did you miss me?” You feel her nodding against your shoulder while she hugs your neck tight. “I missed you too. So much. You did so well back there. I really loved your singing.”

She leans back to look at you and holds your face to crash kisses all over your cheek under Taehyung’s jubilant gaze.

You put her down but she quickly catches your hand in hers and hugs one of his legs.

He pats the crown of her head and looks up at you. “I’m really glad you made it.”

You share a smile but get interrupted again as a small group of children comes surrounding you three.

“You’we Hina mommy?” asks a little girl, her neat ponytail swinging behind her.

Five pairs of eyes stare up at you in total amazement as small ‘ahhs’ and ‘ohhs’ are heard.

“Hina mommy is so beautiful!” Cheers a little boy, more excited than he should be.

“I’m not-” You begin, a little taken aback, looking for help from Taehyung but he only keeps smiling. He’s taking too much pleasure in seeing you flustered.

“I know.” Hina boasts with closed eyes.

A couple of looks lingers before one of them suddenly suggests playing elsewhere.

You decide to get out of the school when Hina complains about being hungry.

She peeks over his shoulder to ask, “you coming home with daddy and Hina?”

You meet Taehyung’s expectant eyes and your chest squeezes at their seemingly hopeful looks.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I’ve somewhere to go.”

“I could drive you if you want,” he starts, tilting his head in the direction you guess his car is parked.

“Don’t bother, I-... You remember Shownu? I told him to come get me.”

They pout at the same time and it makes you chuckle lightly at their likeness though Taehyung tries not to look too affected. He’s hesitating and not so sure anymore about what he initially wanted to say.

Hina suddenly turns away from you to frown in his neck.

“What’s that?” He asks when he doesn’t understand her the first time. “You want _____ to come home with us?”

You gaze at the back of her head with a sad smile and meet his gaze in silence.

I’d like that too.  

“Seems like I was right, huh,” he snaps you out of your thoughts. “That dress looks really good on you.”

You look down, blushing a little and nod in agreement. Silence falls again between you. You don’t show any intention to go yet as Taehyung gets lost in his thought.

What are you waiting for?

“CanIgetyournumber?”

“What?” You cock your head.

“Your number? So we can see each other. I mean with Hina too.”

You nod, seemingly accepting his suggestion because the reason he mentioned is a self-evident fact. “Sure.”

You exchange your contact information and you eventually walk away much to his dismay. Hina finally decides to look back when you’re already so far away.

She frowns at your silhouette. “Hina sad.”

“Don’t be, baby,” he cups her cheek to kiss her other one. “We’ll see her again.”

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

You’re the one texting first and Taehyung’s glad you do when he’s too upset with himself for not finding the courage to do so. You agree to meet one night and make sure either of you doesn’t do anything the following day because Taehyung wants to invite you to his concert he’s currently holding in the biggest stadium of the country for the whole weekend.

When you arrive half an hour before the beginning, you’re taken to a corridor left inaccessible to fans that leads to a platform positioned in front of the stage and in the middle of the pit above the fans gathered around. You notice some curious look thrown your way.

There you get to meet the CEO of the company Taehyung works for along with some of his employees.

The show is a big hit.

You’ve felt it the first seconds after Taehyung was revealed and the audience roared impressively.

It all feels a little overwhelming but seeing him in this new light makes you feel all kinds of way. You recognize the man you’ve worked for but he seems so foreign. The aura coming from him is nothing you’ve seen before yet has you enticed through his moves, his looks, his voice.

The crowd leaves bit by bit. You remember him telling you to wait for him right where your seat was assigned to you, saying your goodbyes to his boss.

The venue is now empty, you go down the stairs and notice Taehyung down the corridor chatting with someone on his way up.

You exchange a smile.

You shorten the space between you, you watch him eye you from head to toe as his thumb grazes his bottom lip. You look away. He stops before he gets a whiff of your fragrance, eyelids heavy. You take his hand when he stretches it to you.

“I took some time cause I was showering.” He explains pulling you to the parking lot.

You climb in his car.

“You okay with eating out? We can always order something and eat at home if you’re too tired.”

He swivels the wheel with one hand, running the car out of the premises and making the powerful engine roar while looking at you. “Don’t worry about me.”

The silence between you is comfortable but the atmosphere feels heavy with secret intentions.

“I really liked the show by the way,” you say softly while keeping your eyes on the scenery passing by.

“Yeah?”

“Hm,” you turn your head towards him with a playful look. “But I still prefer Hina’s singing.”

“I have to admit, she rehearsed that song more than I ever did my whole discography.”

Dinner is nice and quiet. Taehyung isn’t fond of talking while eating and you're thankful, it allows you to enjoy the food and himself in a comfortable way.

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

You’re back in the car and driving away after you’ve agreed to go to his home and see Hina.

“I got my diploma. Last week.” You share, “I’m finally able to work as a personal trainer.”

“Really? Congratulations,” he genuinely exclaims while checking the rearview mirror. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, but for some reasons I’ve also managed to get a contract with a model agency? I don’t know where this is coming from.”

“Well, they simply saw potential in you. I mean your body is perfect- I-I- I mean you work hard to stay fit so… They’d miss out if they didn’t take you..” He trails, mentally slapping himself.

You simply smile to yourself.

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

The door unlocks and you both see Hina and the babysitter he got for the night sitting in the living-room. As soon as Hina notices you, she darts your way to crash against your legs.

“________!!”

“You’re still awake?” Wonders Taehyung, looking down not to step on her toes.

You hug and lift her in your arms after getting rid of your shoes. You greet the young girl as Taehyung takes care of paying her. You hear her letting him know she tried everything in her power to get the little girl to bed as you sit down and cover Hina with kisses and sweet words.

The door closes a little after.

“Come here. Brush your teeth, go pee and right to bed.”

“No!” She challenges with a frown at him. “I staying with ________.”

He calls her name with a strict tone making her pout and you can’t help but hug her protectively.

“Let me take care of it,” you suggest softly to him.

You carry out her nighttime routine like you used to, noticing how independent she has become which makes you yearn younger Hina.

You let her lead the march to her room, meeting Taehyung on the way and chuckles when she closes the door to prevent him from interrupting your time together.

“Do you want me to read you a book?” You smile once she settles under her covers.

She shakes her head and reaches for your hand. You understand she wants you to lie next to her. You indulge without a word.

“_______,” her voice is already filled with sleep some time after you’ve started running your fingers through her silky hair. “You staying with Hina foweve’?”

You hum back.

“Daddy likes ______.”

You look down at her, smiling faintly.

“He says it a lot. Hina likes _______ mowe.”

You squeeze her gently against you.

“________?” She’s speaking more slowly now. “Pwomise... mommy staying with Hina... and daddy... foweve’.”

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

“Sleeping?”

You noticed Taehyung’s already changed in his sleepwear. You nod while closing her door as quietly as possible. “Like a log.”

He stands up before you get the chance to get close to one of the couches and leads the way to his bedroom.

You wait at the doorstep, watching him browsing clothes inside his wardrobe while in the dark. He shuffles towards you, holding what looks like to be a silky pyjamas.

“I think this will do,” he trails. You take it, thanking him. “You can change here. I was going to open a bottle of wine. You want some?”

You shake your head.

Taehyung walks back in his room when you don't come out, holding one glass and minds turning off the lights on his way.

It takes him a couple of seconds to remark your silhouette on the other side of the curtains, standing in the balcony where you’re enjoying the weak, gentle breeze of this summer night.

He draws one curtain and immediately notices you’ve decided to do without the pants which pulls a knowing smile from him. It shouldn't surprise him. The shirt is long enough to work as a mini dress on you.

You look over your shoulder when you hear the door sliding. He’s staring longer than he’s meaning to but you find it adorable.

He comes to stand right by your side and takes a sip, looking for something to say.

“It’s so quiet.”

“You don’t like it.”

“You should put on some music.” You suggest, tilting your chin towards his phone in his pocket.

“What do you want to listen to?”

“I’m sure you got some exclusive sounds, I could brag about. It’s your chance to upgrade your raking.” You smile when you see him grin too as he goes through files. “You’re not working on anything?”

“I actually am. But it’s a secret for now. I’ve made... thirteen songs. But they’re still very rough. I don’t think we should listen to them.”

“Come on, you know I won’t judge you.”

He looks down with an embarrassed smile, frowning a little. “They’re really not good.”

“I’m not pressuring you. It’s just the two of us now.” You say softly, not breaking eye contact. “We can always find something else.”

He can’t hold your gaze long enough without feeling his face heat up. “Okay, I’ll share one or two.”

You look down at the streets when the first notes are heard, knowing he won’t want to meet your eyes.

“So where’s your manager?” You ask to ease his anxiety. You’re too aware of yourself trying not to sound too interested while keeping your gaze on the cars driving by. “I thought I’d see her at the concert.”

“Uh oh, we’re not working together anymore.” You hum in response. He explains,“conflicts of interests.”

You’re now hearing lyrics sung very softly, setting a comfortable atmosphere. “Does that mean…”

“Yeah, I’m basically managing myself.” He chuckles to himself, smiling a little at you. “I think there’s no other way if I want to live life the way I have in mind.”

You agree silently, not really knowing what to say back.

“I think she liked me. Too much.”

“You didn’t?”

“Of course I enjoyed being with her but not exactly for the same reason I think.”

The song is the only thing heard for a couple of seconds but Taehyung doesn’t seem to be minding it anymore.

“Are you and Shownu…?”

You instantly look up at him when you hear him mentioning his name and rephrase his question when he’s not finishing. “Are we a thing?” He nods slowly once. ”No. No, no, no. I mean he’s nice but... He’s not really… my type.”

He looks away, humming a quick acknowledgement. He finishes his glass. “What’s your type?”

You tilt your head away from him, smiling to yourself. His phone plays the second song.

“I wouldn't know how to describe it. I just know when I meet the person, you know?”

“Yeah, I- Me too.”

You hesitate a little before you speak again.

“Apparently,” you wait for him to look at you to show your innocent eyes. “You like me. A lot.”  

He smiles but doesn’t flee your gaze, “who told you that?”

“I can’t reveal my source,” you turn your head away, closing your eyes. You open one to see him looking at you, amused. “I can only say it has the figure of a…  little snoring cutiekins.”

He shakes his head to himself. “Of course.”

You find yourself staring at his gorgeous-looking profile, admiring the way his perfect hair falls around his face. “So… You like spending time with me?”

“It wasn’t obvious enough?” He gets shy again.

“Honestly, I can’t recall.”

“What?” He asks with surprise. “Are you being serious?”

“I mean, I was working for you. And we weren’t always on our own. Making assumptions about these things would have been wrong on my behalf. Especially with you. I didn’t want to risk my job.”

“I see.”

He looks down at his empty glass then back up at you when he hears you take in a deep breath.

“I also didn’t want to risk never seeing you or Hina ever again.”

You can see something kindle in his dark eyes, rendering you quiet and captivated. He doesn’t seem like he’s moving but you can definitely tell you’re both getting closer and closer.

“And now?” His voice sounds hopeful.

Your eyes gaze up and down, noticing his lips barely agape. “Now?”

You almost freeze when you feel his breath fanning you delicately. You both remain stagnant for a while which seems to last indefinitely, keeping yourselves apart from each other and foreign from what is to come if you were to give in to those tacit, forbidden desires.

Taehyung can feel his heart beating so vividly at the prospect of tasting your lips. You’re right there. Why is he suddenly feeling so bold? Why is he hesitating?

“_____-”

You don’t allow him to finish and choose to be the one to take the plunge.

The kiss is timorous at first, gentle, barely touching, yet ignites, as intimacy settles, a submerging feeling that diffuses into your two beings.

He’s the first to moan, you to grab onto him, each demanding more of that taste you can’t do without now that you’ve quickly come to like it.

You force yourself out of rapture with reluctance, testing the waters and it only draws him back in like a magnet, quietly surrendering to what you started.

His skin is soft against your face but his arms are strong around your back as they secure you against his chest. His scent overwhelms you, almost in a smothering way but it doesn’t feel wrong. It’s simply foreign. You’ve never got to smell so much of him this long, this strongly. You eventually moan in response.

Taehyung pushes his face harder against yours as a result, tilting your heads. He’s euphoric and he can feel it in his stomach, in his heart, in yours the longer he keeps you rooted against his body, sensing them pulsate in unison, frenzied.

You push back, blindly guiding him to one of the two reclining chairs he got settled for whenever good weather presents itself. He lets himself fall down but not too quickly, not if it means he’d have to break apart from you. You can feel him grip the back of your thighs and have your body straddling his.

You notice his mouth reaching again for yours when you eventually pull away for air. He allows you some respite, watching dazed as you rest your forehead against his, smiling to yourself a little.

When you open your eyes, you stare down at your hand beneath which his chest is heaving with desire.

You feel one of his hands reaching for your hip, under his borrowed shirt. Your eyes fall close again and your breath gets caught in your throat once spasms begin taking over your lower region because of the closeness of his touch.

“You okay?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you yearn for more of that intimacy.

You let out a shaky breath you weren’t aware of holding. “It felt good.”

His fingers squeeze you comfortingly. You meet his eyes and your core tightens on its own, hard. It’s dark out here and in spite of that you can see he’s craving you. So badly.

He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, impatiently.

Fuck.

“Kiss me, _______... Please.”

You stare back, fascinated by so much beauty and yearning. Your mouth falls agape and his eyes instantly glance down.

You chuckle lightly, “if someone saw us right now. You’d be in so much trouble.”

“I don’t fucking care.” He replies immediately, grabbing onto the nape of your neck. Your lips remain at a hair breadth from his now.

You never thought your self-control to be that easily challenged, you want to laugh at yourself. Who would’ve thought?

You poke your tongue to lick his bottom lip looking so inviting, leading him to capture your mouth in a deep kiss. You weave your fingers into his smooth locks, tugging them at the first caress of his tongue around yours.

Yes, you instantly think, fuck them all. This is what matters.

Your other hand takes his off your neck to have it latch on one of your breasts. He’s closing it gently around at the touch of it.

You break the sloppy kiss to trail wet pecks along his jaw and beneath his ear. You hastily unbutton the shirt. “Put your hands on me, Tae.”

He slides an arm around the small of your back at the sight of your bare torso for him to feast on and guides your crotch to push down against his.

Your heart suffers another sudden fit of palpitation at the feeling of his arousal pressing promisingly where you need it the most. His mouth is unsparing against your skin, kissing, licking, sucking it until it has you yielding to your own needs.

Taehyung stops and pants icy, hot air where his tongue wetted you at the feeling of your hips rocking with lustful urges.

He leans back on the chair, head thrown back with his eyes closed, relishing the delightful motions of your body.

“Oh… Fuck…” His nails dig in your ass the more you keep easing tension out of his hard shaft.

You tilt forward, closer, never stopping your sensual dance and he feels it. He gazes up at you under heavy lids, admiring the beautiful view of his shirt open on your naked chest, skin still moist with his saliva, nipples pointing enticingly.

He feels lightheaded.

You comb your hair back to allow yourself a view of the splendor that is Taehyung turned on.

You let out a small groan at the unexpected twitch of his cock. By now, you’re sure you’ve made an embarrassing mess of your panties and you’re also certain he can smell it.

You watch him reach for one of your breasts to suck on the sensitive nipple. You frown down at him, moaning as quiet as you can. He cranes his neck to lick his way up yours to your ear.

“You look great in my clothes.” You smile at his whisper.

“I want to see you too.”

He fulfills your wishes quickly, pulling the back of his tee-shirt above his head, serving you the tantalizing image of his muscular arms and shoulders. You bite your lip, sharing a smile and your hips pick up in pace.

You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his head to your chest, while he hugs you to him tightly, looking into each other’s eyes. You’re both growing desperate.

“I want you so bad,” he can hear the hopelessness in your voice and it has him oozing more in his briefs. He never thought he’d ever hear you say those words to him. However, he hates how it reminds him of his neglect in equipping himself for the occasion. He never planned any of it.

He’s certain he doesn’t want to put an end to your bliss, not when you’re on top of him, ready to give yourself, not never.

Taehyung mouths at your cleavage, listening to the plethora of pleading escaping you the longer you keep rubbing yourselves together and struggles not to give in already.

The fresh breeze is long forgotten now, it feels hot and sweaty against his body but you’ve passed your point of no return. He’s felt your body becoming tense, seeking the peak of pleasure.

You manage to grunt in between gasps. “... Close…”

“Yeah?” He wonders quietly, trying to keep you on your stimulus.

You furrow your brow, seeing him gazing back with so much adoration it catches you unawares, triggering intense pleasure washing over you in waves. He helps muffling you, comforting your shaking body.

The forceful press of his erection overstimulates you in good pain. Your arms are tight around his shoulders, helping you root yourself while the final tremors wear off.

You don’t want to move away. He doesn’t want to let go either.

He reluctantly moves his arms only when he feels you trying to lean back. He breaks into a shy chuckle but you capture his lips in a needing kiss. You’re quickly out of breath.

“You’re shaking,” he trails softly. You weren’t even aware of it, lost again in his mesmerizing looks. “Was it okay?”

You nod subtly, cupping the back of his head to bring your faces closer. “Yeah… You?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You answer his gentle kiss. “Let’s go inside.”

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

You wake up alone in the gigantic bed, almost engulfed in the mess of sheets and thick covers. Yes, even in summer they’re of use, if you get to spend a night in his bedroom.

Your mind is fuddled, partly because of the short night you had but it’s also quick to remember flashes of it, having you musing on them with a blushing face.

You sit up and locate his tee-shirt, his borrowed shirt, your panties, his briefs thrown across the floor and your abashed smile comes again.

You’re walking down the corridor and can’t shake away the strangeness of it now that you’re seeing his home in broad daylight many months after, not as his bodyguard but as you. You stop before either Taehyung or Hina can notice your presence and take your time watching them be around each other, the way it was meant this whole time.

Your gaze travels from Hina’s back facing you to him and you mindlessly begin biting your lips, gawking at him working in the kitchen, attending to her needs and just being the best person for her. His messy hair and bare chest are a bonus.

He’s a natural. Your chest tightens at the sight of him and at the thought of it.

A heavy sigh escapes you.

“Mind joining us?”

You get startled by his voice and find them looking at you with big smiles. You shake your head to yourself.

Hina is elated raising her arms in the air from her seat for you to indulge into a tight hug. You don’t forget to kiss her cheek, unable to keep yourself from grinning from ear to ear at her sudden burst.

You sit on the stool across her where a bowl of rice and a full glass of orange juice have been placed. She can’t take her eyes off of you. You mind the frying pan he’s holding as he shakes a fried egg on top of the rice.

“‘Morning you,” he trails in a deep voice. He swiftly steals a kiss and walks away naturally.

You remain stunned a couple of seconds, processing the sudden gesture until you find Hina stifling a titter in her small hands.

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 21

Description: The Hanging Gardens of Babel

Notes: there is an innate human need to be remembered for both accomplishments and person; for those thousands of years from now to look back and know that people have always been human. WC: 6.9k

+

He'd trained before, but this was different.

For one, he didn't usually have an audience, and second, he didn't usually have to respect his teacher, either. Tall buildings and their shadows that once surrounded them were now turned to dead gardens outside the manor of his employment, acting as a 'private' circle of study surrounded by the half-wall around the property.

He panted as he lifted himself to his feet, taking up his staff once more. The trainer was the head guard, Urtak, a man who Ahk was pretty sure did not like him, and who did nothing to try and negate that belief. Sometimes Ahk would complain about this to you and you'd try to comfort him, but now you just laughed whenever the guard knocked him to his back.

"Come now, Aganu," Urtak said, pacing and slamming the end of his staff against the hard ground, crackling into the dry earth. "Can't expect to protect Ukani's home and guests with this technique."

"I do not speak Akkadian," Ahk repeated for the fourth time that day, grunting as he jumped up again.

"He is saying you are a pussy!!" You yelled in Egyptian from the servant's quarters' roof.

"Thank you, Yogi," Ahk called sarcastically, a bitter smile on his face.

Ahk cast one annoyed glance in your direction before Urtak's staff was hooking behind his knee again, forcing him to the ground, again. His hands were scratched, red, and dry, irritated further by the rough ground and spiky plants below him. He took a deep breath––or as deep a breath as he could in the dust cloud––and took up his spear once more, facing Urtak with a malice lacing his parted lips. Years spent training would aid him now, but he drew a blank on how to approach his opponent.

Urtak's staff came whizzing down from above, aiming directly for his skull. Instinctively, Ahk whipped his own spear up, dislocating the staff's projectory. The guard tried a couple more times, coming down upon his midsection or legs in hopes of knocking Ahkmen back down to the ground. This time he blocked––though, it did take him a few more moves before he realized he could now parry in return.

Before attempting to strike at his side in any way, or to knock his balance off kilter, he stabbed the blunt end of his staff into Urtak's stomach, punching the breath out of him.

A distant 'WHOOO!' came from behind him and he laughed, glancing to you in time to see your grin and a lute swinging about in your hand. It gave ample distraction that led to Urtak taking revenge in an unconventional manner when it came to staff fights; he punched him in the face.

Ahkmen groaned loudly as he stumbled back, still on his feet but with his hands covering his nose and mouth. Something warm was dripping from his nose, and as he pulled his hands away he found blood, coating his skin in thick drops.

"Aaaaaand," your lute began to play a joyous little tune as you sang, "he get fuck in the face!"

"Those aren't even words!" Ahk yelled back through his laughter.

"Pay attention," Urtak said stiffly, bringing his staff to backslap Ahk's head.

Of course training had to come just when his bruises and aches were healing from falling over a tarp fence taller than his whole body. Now everything was back tenfold, aching from old pain and biting from new. The only good part was that now you were both being paid, meaning you could afford a couple luxuries, such as a lavender healing ointment you found on your way home from the brewery that day.

Ahkmen spent a good deal more of his freetime sleeping than you did, napping beneath the warm, mud roof, but safe from the burning rays of the sun. Birds tweeted about outside, their songs muffled through the thick walls. Flies managed to get inside. To his fortune, no one else was in the servant's quarters, and he could splay out on the biggest bed. He continued to doze in the warmth, resting his creaking joints until footsteps sounded through the dry underbrush, crunching beneath small feet.

"Aganu?" Came your soft voice, your knuckles knocking against the cool, clay doorway.

He let out a muffled moan, regretfully moving himself to sit up straight.

"How've you been, my dear?" He asked, sniffing to clear his still-bloody nose.

"Better than you," you said as you knelt beside him.

You carried several different things in your hands, including a damp cloth, a bandage, a small bottle of honey, and the ointment you bought without him.

"What's that?" He asked.

"For the scraping," you said, taking his hand and resting it in your lap palm up.

The cork popped out of the jar, tossed onto the bed as you poured some of the ointment onto your hands. Ahk watched in interest as you took his hand, washing his skin with the cool mixture, and partially burning the more sensitive cuts. He hissed as you passed over the largest.

"Do you think that this is good for you?" You asked as you looked up.

"What, the ointment or –"

"The fighting," you chuckled.

"Ah. Well, it has been good to rehearse some of my moves," he said with a shrug.

You nodded, continuing to massage the red marks.

"Then I can protect you better," he said.

"My little boy," you grinned, pinching his cheek with your lotion-clad fingers. He scrunched up his face, wiping the treatment away.

"I'm not a little boy," he said flatly.

"But you are my – or, mine," you said.

"A little." He nodded vaguely.

Your affections had been switching unpredictably the last few days, since around when he snuck into the King's garden, so he never knew how to react to certain things you said. Sometimes you would snap at him for things he hadn't ever considered, but other times, like this, you tied him to you, caring for wounded muscles and mind.

Once you were done with both his hands, you moved on to his scuffed knees, and gently rubbed the ointment in there. Again he flinched back, but you held him tight in place.

"What are you going to be doing for the party?" He asked after a few minutes of silence, spent convincing himself it'd be odd to reach forward and tangle his fingers in your unkempt hair.

"I am with the beer, and the food," you said, glancing up sparingly. "I am one of the people who does not talk the whole time."

"Oh, don't worry," he sighed, sitting back. "So am I."

It'd be the first event Ahk ever attended where he wasn't expected to look like a God, or to perform some heavenly speech that assured the listening people of his nation.

Later that same day it would be announced to the staff at large that a member of the royal family would be attending as an honored guest of the estate owner's––whose name was Ukani––three, triplet daughters. It was the first time Ahk had seen the identical girls, though you had clearly met them before judging by your glazed over expression. It was also announced that because of this, all the servants and guards would have to be wearing proper attire––something that fit a nobleman's party better than plain skirts and dirtied dresses.

Every servant in line let out a long groan, though most were subdued in the face of the stewardess. She glared down each of you thoroughly.

"I'm sure you'll be glad to learn these will be supplied for you. You won't need to get anything on your own," she said, and everyone seemed to fare much better with that.

She drilled into the eleven of you standing in that line––including yourselves and the other four new recruits–-that respect of the family and their friends was vital, and that employment would not last should that respect be breached. Ahkmen wondered as he watched her steely eyes if guards and servants were treated like this in his own home by the overseers; his personal servant, Naguib, hadn't said anything about it. Then again, Ahk never asked.

You were soon dismissed, and you and Ahk immediately went to each other.

"I do not like this," you said, crossing your arms. Clearly the dress code bothered you, even if it was financially stable.

"Don't worry," he chuckled, "I'm sure you'll look fine."

"I am not a doll."

"Really? You're small enough to be one –"

Before he could laugh at his own joke you punched him in the gut, laughing when he clutched his stomach. Of course, it didn't hurt all that much, but it did take him greatly by surprise.

Steaming buns filled with mashed dates smelled more heavenly than he ever could've imagined. The shop was only across the plaza from the brewery, as well––it gave him an ample opportunity to dash over, purchase a couple, and run back before you finished preparing the same batch throughout the ten you were starting today. Experiments never ended with you––continuous tests and studies had to be conducted.

He jogged down the steps, ducking beneath the tarp doorway with a cloth sack in hand; within it, the buns. The scent of broiling beer wafted thick in the small stirring room, the many fires of different bubbling pots warmed the area as well, and the heat remained trapped beneath the tarp ceiling. Sunlight poured in through gaps between the ceiling and the wall, illuminating wisps of smoke rising from a small plate of incense burning opposite the entrance. A few of the brewers discussed things quietly among themselves as he passed. Familiarity became this room; humid, almost unpleasantly warm, and smelling of nothing more than sweet, honeyed beer. And you.

"How's it coming?" Ahk asked, stopping in front of your stand, the warm desert in his hand clutched to his chest.

"Good, I am with the, uh..." you paused as you pumped the stir stick up and down through the thick malt, "the saffron."

"Smells nice," he said, earning a smile from you.

"Thanks many," you said.

He chuckled, shifting his weight as he looked bashfully down.

"Oh, I got you something," Ahk said after seeing the pouch again. He released the drawstring, pulling out one of the buns.

"Oooh," you said as you took it. "What is it?"

"Some sort of date dessert, I don't think I've ever tried one of these before."

Within the date paste were chewy nuts which, after a moment, tasted distinctly like pistachios. You hummed pleasurably with your first bite, your cheeks puffing out with how massive of a bite you'd taken.

Conversation continued throughout the couple rows of stirring pots, must of the words muffled beneath the churning of beer. Ahkmen finished his bun quicker than you did, and spun slowly round to scan the room before his attention fell back to you, watching as you finished.

"Good?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Very," you assured him.

More murmurs and whispers had him turning around again, trying to look for who was speaking in such noticeable whispers.

"What do you talk about all day with these people?" Ahk asked as he spun back round to you, his hands on his hips.

"I do not talk much," you admitted. "I do not talk good in Akkadian, but I do hear what they say."

"So... what do they talk about?"

"Oh, they have parents, and children, and lovers... and they have the beer, also. They, uh.. they do talk about you," you added hesitantly.

"Me?" He asked incredulously.

He turned around and, sure enough, two women's eyes darted from the back of his head down to their work.

"Wait, why?" He asked, suddenly horrified by the products of his imagination. So much so that he didn't notice his hands gripping the lip of your pot, soon to be burned by the heat. Once he noticed, he ripped his hands away, scanning the red marks on his palms

"Aganu, do not do that," you said in a tired sigh, clunking the spoon down in the bowl.

You stepped down from your stool, taking him by his wrist and leading him over to a corner of the brewery stocked with shelves. The class and clay bottle clinked together brightly as you shuffled through them, expertly finding a small, black bottle with an equally adorable cork. A pop came from it as you pulled it out, placing your finger over the mouth and shaking it upside down.

"What is that?" He asked quietly as he looked over your shoulder.

"It is an oil, for burns," you said, concentrating greatly as you organized the cork, the bottle, and your oil-covered finger onto one hand.

"Oh. Does it happen a lot?"

"Yes," you said with an irate groan that had Ahk chuckling. "Harmu come in here and make love words with the women, and – and take them off the beer, and that makes the batch fail. That is a lot of barley, gone."

"Ah," he breathed out.

While you talked you took his hand, displaying the burnt palm and coating it with the oil on your finger. Since there was only a little bottle of it, you used very little with each dip into the oil, and thus had to flip the bottle much more frequently over your finger.

"It is still okay to eat, but it is not good at all," you said, shaking your head.

"You've tried it then?"

"I have smelled it," you said.

He belted out a laugh.

"Am I one of the... what did you call them? Harmu?"

"Yes, uh... fuck, what is it in Egyptian?" You closed your eyes, your face screwed up in a frown. "I can only remember the Akkadian and the Harappan."

"But am I one of them?

You looked up, almost surprised by his question.

"Oh, no, you do not make love with women here," you said.

Ahkmen sighed very, very deeply, just barely staunching the circus of laughter in his chest.

"Please don't say that again."

The whole of the incident was forgotten by the time you were walking home, bathed in the shadow of the tall city walls. Most of the stores you passed were now closed, making way for warm nights and a hot meal, the latter of which you looked forward to. It took a little getting used to, but eventually the porridge-type beer served at the estate rubbed off on you.

Until then, you wandered through the streets of Babylon, absorbing the colors bursting around you, before sinking into the quiet of night once more.

By the time the stone walls of the estate came into view, life around you had dimmed into such quiet moments resigned to the windows of nearby houses. Crickets chirped in the absence of thundering footsteps.

Neither of you spoke much––sometimes commentating on stray cats or dogs, or the bugs that jumped in and out of view, but little more than that. Part of it was Ahkmen's doing, as he was usually the first to say something, and as of right now he was far too absorbed in his own thoughts to make any such conversation. But, like usual, he was still engrossed in you, dreaming of something that came to his sleepy mind a few hours ago.

"Husband!" You suddenly exclaimed, your eyes widening as recognition washed over you.

"What??"

"That is the word I did not know, harmu, it is husband," you said with a grin.

"Ohh," he said. "You scared me."

"Sorry," you said, and leant into him, holding his arm to your chest.

Ah, right. That's what a heart palpitation felt like, beating wildly in his chest at the feeling of your heat. Even in the warm evening he revelled in the touch. So maybe it was alright, he reasoned––maybe you really had forgiven him, and done readily so, leaving Ahk himself to build this discomfort in your presence that fed off his uncertainty.

Perhaps he should live more in the moment––that is what he thought, and he debated it greatly during your small dinner atop the servant's quarters roof.

The two of you chewed in silence for a little while, enjoying the warmth of the porridge as quiet murmurs below you broke the creaking of crickets. Someone down in the quarters was plucking at a lute, but made no particular melody, and Ahk imagined them leant back on their bed, their head pressed against the wall and their eyes closed as they played. It'd been a while since he'd heard you play, and he'd never heard you actually sing before for purposes other than making fun of him.

While he listened he stared ahead at the city's silhouette, from the dips marking streets to the towers reaching the Milky Way. He squinted to see the steps of a pyramid––not entirely unlike the step pyramid of Djoser––and frowned when he couldn't identify its' use. Temples were built in the form of ziggurats in Babylon, not pyramids.

It hit him after a few more seconds of staring, and before he could think it through he blurted something out that he couldn't quite hear.

"I think we should go see one of the gardens here," he said, recogniing the vines and flora that draped from the steps of the tower. "They've been taunting me lately with their grandeur."

You chuckled, leaning back and saying, "okay... but I have garden work, here, tomorrow."

"Of course. Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, always," you said with a nod.

"You said the women talk about me. What do they say?" He asked.

"Oh," a smile spread across your face as you looked away, "oh, not any words too bad. It is... you do not speak Akkadian, that is not right for them, you know? And you do have clothes a little... um, not Karanduniash. You speak only to me and all you say to them is I do not know Akkadian in Akkadian. That is also a little..."

"Strange?" He offered.

"A little," you nodded, shrugging in hopes of lessening the blow.

"I've never been strange before," he said quietly.

"What?" You looked up from the floor to meet his eye.

"Well, my father was rich so a lot of people treated me with great respect. If I wanted to I could have had hordes of friends and followers, so it was definitely my own choice to stay to myself," he said, gesturing vaguely with his hands as he spoke and you nodded along with him.

"I had thought people did not like you," you admitted.

"What, why??" He said, suddenly horrified. His reaction had you belting out a laugh.

"You had one, mean friend, and Panya did not like you, too," you said with another apologetic shrug.

"Well when you put it like that," he said, and the both of you devolved into giggles.

When you calmed down there was less space between you, your dishes set to the side as you inched closer.

"Did Panya ever talk about me?" He asked, inquisitive eyes scanning you thoroughly.

"A little," you nodded. "She says... you did mean things when you were.. young. Piye did, too."

"Piye said I was a bad person?"

"No, only that you had things when you were young," you assured him. "But good things, also. You are... kind, in heart."

Your attention glazed over, and Ahk watched with uncertainty as you reached forward, setting your hand over his trembling heart. He could feel your hand moving with how hard his heart beat, trying desperately to calm himself as skin met flushed skin.

Fingers trailed down his bare chest until you withdrew your hand entirely, finally looking back up at him with gleaming eyes.

"I think you are good, still if you say the words wrong, you are good at heart," you said in a sudden need to assure him of his own humanity.

It acted as an apology in your eyes, but to him he saw nothing but love, and his heartbeat increased tenfold. What summer nights brought about amidst the bugs and acquaintances murmuring below.

Coins jingled in his pocket as he made his way through the streets, weaving through thick crowds to reach the center marketplace. He bid good-bye to you several minutes earlier, leaving you to work on the estate's garden, while Ahkmen enjoyed his freetime away from the masters. His clothes, perfectly suited to blend in with the locals, also hid away his various bags of grain and coins that he would use as payment, and the dagger strapped to his hip.

There was no particular aim he had in mind as he walked, eyes darting from the indecipherable shop signs to the various people spending their morning out on the streets. He would, at times, come across small trios or couplets of musicians who filled up the space between loud conversations, bringing to the chaos a sort of art. High flutes played in tune with deep lyres, the instruments made of a cheaper wood more easily afforded by the lower classes. But the bustle of traders and merchants could still be heard clearly throughout the noise, calling out prices and wares, and advertising the many products sold within the streets of Babylon.

Babylon had, like Egypt, somehow retained much of its' prosperity despite the trying times. Rapiqum and the cities of Canaan––Jericho and Jerusalem––suffered much worse; a lack of water befalling the people who resided in the starved cities. But the river Euphrates never strayed from Babylon, and had continued to run through the city in plentiful waves.

The water of the Euphrates was said to be tears. Tears from the primorial Goddess, whose name Ahk couldn't recall. He frowned as he looked over the edge of the terrace, leaning on a white stone railing that separated him from a ten foot drop into the swirling waters below, lined with the blue tile of the city's gates. From the even decorations on either side, Ahk correctly assumed that it marked the water level of a typical year; the water currently ran an arm's length below the mark. He let out a long sigh, his fingers digging into the railing.

At the sight of this Ahk couldn't help but imagine the Nile falling to such depths. Each year brought forth a differing inundation, making it hard to truly worry about the water level. But years of this would dry the farmlands, polluting the cities with dry, infertile dirt, and ridding of the already scant shade along the Nile's shores. Birds would leave in droves, and antelope would follow the scent of water to more fruitful lands.

He didn't notice how tight his grip on the rail grew until the plaster cracked, the pop drawing his attention back to his intense glare and gritted jaw. A couple of the people stopping at the riverside gave him odd looks, some of them scooting away from him, at which point he released all the tension in his body and stepped quickly away, heading back into the western city.

He once again found himself in one of the city's many center circles, allowing shopfronts to spread out in multitudes to present their wares. Nearly all the shops were open at this time, since it was around noon, and Ahk could hardly hear his own thoughts with the rampant conversation and shouts surrounding him. A headache sprouted in his knotted brow from the confused––or irritated––expression on him.

"Lost, are you?"

"Who the f–"

Ahk whipped around to see who had spoken, mostly because it was in Egyptian, only to find a dissapointingly familiar face.

"Oh. You," Ahk said stiffly, crossing his arms as he stopped dead in the center of the moving crowd, the Kassite Prince standing across from him with a smile.

"I thought you looked a little lonely out here," he said, taking several, leisurely steps forward. "All by yourself."

"Listen, you and I do not know each other," Ahk said, taking his movement as a challenge and stepping forward till he truly faced the shorter prince. "Stop talking to me in public."

"You should feel honored I ever speak to you at all," he retorted.

Ahkmen internally groaned. Did others feel this way when they spoke to him during his childhood? The Kassite Prince did seem to be a little younger than Ahk, though not by much.

"Don't you have Kings in Egypt?" the Prince continued.

"Pharaohs. And I'm fully aware they do, I just never liked them," Ahk lied sourly, his lips pursed tight together.

"That gold on your arm says otherwise," he said, gesturing with his chin to the gold band wrapped round his bicep.

"Who even are you?"

"The Prince, you –"

"I know that," Ahk interrupted him. "I meant your name."

The Kassite Prince hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question.

"You know what? I don't care," Ahk said after another second of silence, throwing his hands up in the in defeat, and turning round and walking away.

"Hey!" The prince called out in a whine, but the crowd already welled up in the space between them. "My name's Rimush!"

"And my name's Fuck You," Ahk muttered beneath his breath.

Incense from Elam. Considering your interest in other cultures, and the magic ongoings of said cultures, Ahk took the guess that you would enjoy a hint of the travel yet to come. You still had beer batches you had to finish, and Ahk was enjoying his time returning to combat training, eagerly memorizing each move and doing it thoroughly as he imagined besting any creature that dared to hurt you. There was no need to hurry yourselves to Elam, but there still lingered a curiosity in you and Ahkmen. Priest teachers in Egypt never spoke much about Elam considering the distances between the two countries. Imports reached further than power, however, so Ahk actually had used Elamite incense before, and recalled it as being pleasant. You'd like it, he thought.

Incense progressed into talismans and tools, till his poor money-managing skills led him to carrying three bags worth of things, some for you, and some for himself. Most for you, though. He burned a bright red as he walked back to the estate, already knowing how you'd laugh, rocking back in your seat as he revealed your effect on him even without your presence. But it would be worth it to see the hidden delight in your twinkling eyes.

"Aganu, do you know how many necklaces you have give me?" You asked, about ten minutes after you asked what the thing in your hand was, and he answered 'necklace'.

"No, I wasn't really counting," he said, lifting himself out of his own bag to look over your shoulder.

You sat on his bed, you at the head and him on the side, his legs still planted on the ground. Two of the bags were now empty, their contents scattered in piles around the sheets, all of which belonged to you. Ahk kept his own belongings in a separate bag on the floor.

"This is ten and six necklaces," you said as you held up the mass of necklaces, looking more like tiny, black and brown worms rather than jewelry, the sight of which had giggles bubbling up in both of you.

"Sorry?" He said through his chuckling.

"No, no, I love," you said, setting to untangling them.

It took nearly ten minutes but eventually the two of you untangled all of them, only for you to put every last one of them around your neck, tangling them back around on your chest. You flashed a dizzying grin once you wore all his gifts.

"It's still early," he stuttered out, his face slowly warming with blood as he found himself unable to look away from you, or the sunlight streaming through the door that illuminated your soft skin. "Do you think today'll work for the garden?"

"Oh, yes," you said, straightening your back. "Yes, that is good!"

He chuckled, averting his eyes to his fidgeting fingers.

Tamarisk trees flanked the entrance of the tower, still scraping the sky with the tallest terrace overflowing with leaves of green. The throes of a dying sun painted the white pillars red and orange, burning like flames that would surely overtake the city, but still cooled by the high-up winds that brushed against the hanging trees and flowers.

A wide arch greeted you, acting as a massive entrance leading into a tall room overflowing with grasses, reeds, and bushes. Most of them you recognized instantly––herbs of special sorts, both from Mesopotamia and from far away. You picked those you recognized, stuffing the leaves and roots into one of your many pockets. Ahkmen chuckled at your behavior, but still stopped at your side to allow your collecting, which continued to the stairs carved in a polished, white stone, massive lamassu statutes towering above you. They popped right out of the stone, empty eyes staring straight down into Ahk.

"Wow," he said, earning a hum from you.

"It is like Egypt," you said.

He turned to you with a frown.

"How so?"

"Big, stone cat, with a man head," you said, pointing up at the human fae.

"Oh," he turned back to the statue, "I suppose you're right."

A couple came down the stairs, pressed tightly together when they noticed you. The two of you also drew closer, and began to head up the stairs, watching for the new flora that bloomed out of seemingly nothing.

Lines of arches whose pillars were carved in intricate patterns led to the wind of open air rustling through the trees, willows and their long tendrils dancing and entangling themselves with the flowers of nearby vines. Water clung to the air around you, kept humid and warm in the strange, and surely intentional, dome of a ceiling. Yet more stairs sat behind you, meaning the next floor must've been built higher than the ceiling of the second floor.

Fruits––though most of them small––grew on the low bushes and on high trees, their blooming colors matching the many petals of white, red, gold, and deep purple. You soon discovered the reason for the small fruits was that the other people roaming throughout the terraces picked the larger, more ripened ones, eating them as they wandered about. You soon did the same, picking a small plum and offering part of it to Ahk. He took a couple bites before handing it back to you.

At the brush of your fingers, his heart did not speed––not like before, and he melted into the familiarity, into the warmth he memorized in your touch. Without much thought he took your hand, entwining your fingers sticky with fruit sugar together. When you didn't try to pull away, he pushed down the excitement that was quick to fill his chest, but allowed himself a small smile.

A woman picked fruit from a tree in front of your path, but when he accidentally caught her eye, she hurried off with her basket in hand. Ahk looked up to where she'd been tending, and found large, red pomegranates hanging abundantly from the flimsy tree.

Moving up to his toes, he picked one of the fruits and handed it to you.

"Ever had a pomegranate before?" He asked when you just held it, staring at it in your hands.

"That is this?" You said as you raised it.

"Indeed so. My brother and I used to split it."

"You had a brother??" You asked incredulously.

"Did I never tell you?"

"No," you said. Obviously.

"Alright, well, before he started really hating me, we'd sometimes sneak out into the market and split food, since we couldn't find enough money to pay for an overzealous amount," Ahk explained.

At the very end of his sentence you took a massive bite into the raw peel, instantly frowning when you bit into something fleshy and bitter. Ahkmen, who took a second to notice this, quickly took the fruit from you with a gasp. A large bitemark was already in the fruit.

"That – that's not how you eat pomegranates," he stammered, digging his thumbs into the new-revealed fruit, and splitting it open to reveal the seeds within.

"It is bad," you said, your expression still contorted uncomfortably.

"Spit it out!"

You spit your bite into the nearby bushes, earning cold stares from the couple of people who saw. Their gazes had you shrinking in on yourself.

"Don't worry about it," Ahk said quietly, setting a hand on your back. "I would definitely have done the same thing."

The two of you split the pomegranate, and Ahkmen showed you that it was the fruit-covered seeds that were the truly consumable part. You ended up enjoying them quite a bit, and the one pomegranate lasted you throughout the whole of the marble and limestone garden terrace, following you up the stairs till nothing remained but the shell. Ahk tossed the remains away, and the two of you continued onwards.

Eventually the air began to cool with the ascending floors, and Ahk's Egyptian clothes––which he'd worn that day because he had no work––ceased to fit the temperature, landing Ahk with a soured look and goosebumps coming up constantly on his arms that were crossed tight over his chest.

"Awwwh, you are cold?" You asked in a saccharine voice, after Ahk spent ten minutes wondering if you noticed his shivering.

Your attention did feel better, but not enough.

"A little," he said.

"You do want my coat?" You offered, already setting to undoing the buttons set high on the stiff, red and gold fabric neck.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself," Ahk said quickly, unwrapping his arms from himself to shake his hands no.

"That is okay," you said after a moment. "I do not think it would go in your big arms."

"You think my arms are big?" He squeaked out, looking down at his bicep, which had grown slightly more toned after several training sessions.

"Well, you..." you poked his left bicep, "are big."

"How kind of you, Yogasundari," he said with a massive grin, looking down at you like you lit up the sky.

"Shut up," you said as you pushed him away, earning a loud laugh from him.

"What a show you put on," came a voice from behind you. "I'm almost embarrassed to be seen talking to you."

Ahk groaned––externally this time––and turned slowly around, his dull eyes meeting the Prince Rimush's plotting expression.

"Then stop talking to us," Ahk said, setting his left arm around your shoulder and directing the both of you back forward.

"You've got me there," Rimush said and, to Ahk's great dismay, ran to catch up with you and Ahk, standing at Ahkmen's right. "I just can't dismiss how wonderful of a whore you would make."

Ahk shot you an odd look, but you just shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked with a glare.

"Well, you've got the body for it, and you clearly don't care about showing a little skin," he said, a smirk creeping across his face.

"You know, I don't complain that you're a little brat and that I wish I could subjugate you. Maybe you could do the same," Ahkmen said.

Rimush just laughed, throwing his head of curly, black hair back.

"Who is this man?" You whispered to Ahk while the other was distracted.

"Some idiot I've seen a couple times. He's just a dick."

"I am a Prince, thank you," Rimush interrupted with a cocked brow.

"Okay, Prince Dick," Ahk said, rolling his eyes.

Rimush's mouth fell open as he stared at Ahk, stopping dead in his step. You and Ahk spared him no mercy, and continued forward, leaving the Kassite Prince behind, but only for a moment. He soon ran back up to join you, drawing a heavier-yet groan from Ahkmen.

"Oh come on, don't be like that," he said, hitting Ahk's chest.

"Would you please leave? I'm trying to spend an evening alone with my – my..." Ahk trailed off, his eyes darting to you and back to Rimush.

"Tunae," you suggested, and despite not knowing what the hell you were talking about, he agreed.

"Alright, very well," Rimush said with a long sigh, his shoulders sagging. "But I'd still like to invite you to an event within a few weeks, if you're not too busy... staring at each other."

"Clever," Ahk said flatly.

"It's at Ukani's estate. One of our high priests, a good friend of my father's," the Prince continued.

It took a moment, but the words oh fuck rolled over Ahk's already irritated mind.

"We'll already be there," Ahk said. "We work for the man."

"Oh, wonderful. I hope you're doing some of the dancing, then," Rimush said, and his eyes raked over Ahk again. "I've heard the dancers are dressed in only the finest and thinnest of silks."

"I guess you'll find out," Ahk replied in the same, flat tone.

The two of you, now pressed tightly together, didn't move or speak till Rimush's unkempt locks disappeared down the stairway. At that point Ahk let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and returned his attention chiefly to you.

"He is a prince?" You asked as you picked up your stroll once more.

"Yes, somehow."

"We must be good to him," you said.

"Uh... why?" Ahk asked, wanting to do the exact opposite.

"You said, in Egypt, to go with what the power says, the Kings and that," you said, and his eyes drifted shut.

"I did say that, didn't I," he mumbled.

Now that those conventions weren't upholding his status and were there instead to crush him, well––things seemed a little different on the earth than it did in the clouds, and his thought process worked just the same.

Both of you fell quiet after that, wandering in silence throughout the climbing terraces. Trees of figs, dates, melons, plums, and pears lined the walkway, beside softly running streams pouring their lifeforce into the plants. After several minutes, and a couple floors later, Ahk finally gathered up enough gall to take your hand again. Instantly your fingers tangled into his, and he noted with great pride the smile tugging at the corners of your blushing lips.

The very top of the tower overlooked the whole of the city, from the ziggurats to the outer walls, and to the town-like structures stretching onwards from Karanduniash. The Euphrates continued on endlessly, splitting the land before you in two as wind blew with the force to disrobe you.

People who walked down below were no larger than the ochre dot on your forehead, and moved about as slow as an ant crawling to get to its' hive. Ahk was the only one that could truly watch them, as you were uneasy whenever you leant over the garden's edge, and saw the ground below at a height tall enough to kill you. Instead you crossed you arms, whining whenever Ahk got too close and appeared to be close to falling off.

"Do not be dumb," you said with a frown, your folded arms helping keep your clothes tight to your body.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," he said, leaning just enough over the sheer cliff to see the terraces built beneath you, and those who stood on the edge just as he did.

"I would like to worry about that, thank you," you said matter-of-factly.

Ahkmen chuckled but relented, returning to your side in the center of the highest floor. Despite the plant's water coming from far below you, the creek still ran through the last terrace, feeding the scant trees and brush that could survive the overbearing winds. The bells of rushing water accompanied him as he took your hands, holding them gentle in his own.

"You know I adore you, don't you?" He said, scanning your expectant eyes.

"What does a door do with this?"

"No, not -" he giggled with warming cheeks, "not a door. Adore. It means to care for something deeply, to admire it in a way."

"Ohhh, yes, I did hear this, I only forgot. Sorry," you said with your own sheepish chuckle.

"No need to apologize. I just want you to remember that."

"What adore is saying?"

"No, that I adore you," he said, and despite his screw-ups rushing blood to his face, he knelt before you to more easily meet your eye.

Looking up to you was a special sort of reverence. His bare knee dug into the fertile earth, his other kept up near his chest as he craned his neck to hold your gaze. You appeared, for a moment, to be entirely quiet, wide eyes staring wordlessly down at him. Even the breath in your chest ceased to move.

In the past, you had bowed before many people––passing Kings and High Priests, masters, and your own family in celebrations for the new year. The view from above was quite different from the one below, and you were allowed movement.

You gently pulled one of your hands out of his hold. His empty hand fell like muslin to his lap, a feeling replicated in warm, tingling sensations when your thumb stroked over his jawline. Eyes fluttered shut once more as he leant into your touch, melting when the whole of your palm rested on his flushed cheek.

"Look at me," you said softly, and Ahk raised his head, opening his eyes. "Know my face."

"I've already memorized it," he replied in a murmur.

[berrynarrybanana]

take it out on me - honeybee extra

A/N: I don’t know if anyone has seen the video of those girls throwing water at Harry’s car but first of all fuck them and second that’s so not chill. I got a little upset but then I started thinking about going home with H and having him take it out on you. And then I started writing this piece which was supposed to be for BFHarry’s fic challenge and then it turned into husband and soon to be dad H with Beatrice and Harry! I am forewarning you that this is filthy and I hope you enjoy. 

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Cursing, Crying, Evil “fans”, pregnancy sex, mild choking king, dominant aspects, and cockwarming

Sometime in the fall of 2022

Friday, 6:00 PM, London

Being home in London felt good.

As a little girl, I always dreamed of living in the land of the Queen. I perfected my English accent by the time I was ten, whipping it out at parties and sometimes school plays. When I was 15, a freshman in high school, I auditioned for our school play that would take place in Kent, England. Our sister school would accept us in their homes for six months of the year while we rehearsed and learned together. I was crushed when I didn’t get the part and I was utterly terrified that I would never get the chance to see London or Brighton. But after meeting Harry, it was one of the first serious conversations we had. The third night of our relationship, we were cuddled up in his Malibu home, talking about forever. He mentioned going home to see his Mum after his first solo world tour and though I was upset that he would be so far, I was happy for him. 

“I’m gonna tell her about you, you know?” He kissed over my wet cheeks as I sniffled. “Gonna tell my Mum about the girl I met in L.A and how she’s gonna be my wife someday.” 

Three days. 

That’s how long we had known each other when he said that. 

And he wasn’t wrong about it. 

I stepped out of my London car with my purse and to go coffee mug in hand. The car was far too expensive for my taste, but Harry insisted on having me drive the safest car on the market. Wanda, my very first Audi SUV, was big enough to fit myself, Harry, and the car seat he had installed for our future son. I dropped a free hand to my stomach, softly caressing my baby bump with a smile on my face. Ellis was kicking up a storm as he normally did around this time. I was done with work and the sun was setting which meant that a talk with Daddy would only be moments away. 

“It’s alright little love,” I winced at a particularly hard kick. “Daddy's home, just give me a moment to get inside.” 

I let out a heavy sigh, walking up the few steps to our newest home. 

It still wasn’t quite ready yet, walls unpainted and furniture askew, but it was home. 

I was still working in Milan with Vogue for at least three more weeks and Harry was on his European leg of the tour. I was in town for my doctor’s appointment scheduled for Saturday, and Harry was free of any shows or interview obligations for the weekend. In three weeks, I would officially be home in London and on maternity leave. I would be working from home, skyping with Anna and talking with the board about the new London office, but it would be nice to enjoy some time with Ellis and Harry without any work obligations getting in the way. 

“Darling,” I called out, shutting the door behind me with a smile. “Are you home?” 

“Just in the kitchen, honeybee!” Harry called out. 

I dropped my purse on the table by the front door, dropping my keys inside so they wouldn’t get lost before tomorrow. Next, I slipped off my shoes and then peeled myself out of my jacket. It was by no means freezing in London, but the fall chill was starting to set in. I made my way towards our kitchen, my hands pressed into my bump as my nose picked out the scent of oregano and tomato. Harry’s back was towards me, his hands working on something on the countertop. He looked delectable, as always, his back covered by a black t-shirt and a pair of highwaisted trousers settled on his tiny little hips. With a happy hum, I moved around the kitchen island. 

“Hiya squid.” I pressed my lips over his shoulder, pressing my hands to his hips. 

“There’s my girl.” He peered over his shoulder, dropping the knife he had been using before reaching for a tea towel. “Gimme a kiss.” 

He turned around as I puckered my lips out, kissing him a few times before his hands took over resting on my bump. For a split second, we had a moment to ourselves. But it was over the moment Ellis started kicking around again, angry that he wasn’t greeted by his Daddy before me. 

“Ellis, little man, you’ve gotta stop that.” I frowned, glancing down at my belly. “Mummy and Daddy are trying to say hello.” 

“Is someone being a little bugger today?” Harry hummed, crouching down until he was at eye level with my belly. “That’s not very nice, Ellie, is it?” 

Our son calmed down seconds after hearing Harry’s voice. 

“I think he needs you to fall asleep.” I whispered, brushing my fingers through Harry’s hair as he looked up at me. “He’s been kicking around all day so I know he’s tired.”

“S’alright little one.” Harry kissed over my belly a few times before standing up. “Why don’t you get changed into something more comfortable and then settle in on the couch. Dinner is nearly done and I’ll be right there.” 

“Alright.” I smiled, humming happily when Harry pressed his lips to mine again. “I love you.” 

“Love you too, honey.”

Saturday, 10:00 AM; London 

Harry and I’s pregnancy wasn’t news to anyone. 

Working for Vogue and being Harry Styles’ wife meant that a lot of eyes were on me constantly. Anna suggested biting the bullet and doing a spread for the magazine would be our best option. A few months ago, we agreed. There was a maternity shoot done in our L.A home with me barefoot and pregnant and Harry doting on me as he always did. We did a quick interview on paper, a quick photo shoot, and a small video tour of our home before Anna called it quits. The world went crazy when it all came out, the official announcement on my Instagram promoting the video. Since then, it had been quiet. There wasn’t a lot of fuss over me and Harry was still getting his usual amount of fans at the airport and other places when he traveled, but other than that we were fine. 

Until today. 

“Mr. Styles,” The receptionist at our OBGYN’s office in London looked nervous. “There’s quite a large crowd of people outside of our building.”

“Bloody hell.” He grumbled under his breath, letting out a heavy sigh. “I’ll have it taken care of. I’m very sorry about that, love.” 

“S’alright.” She said quickly. “We’ve locked the doors so no one is permitted in and our other patience won’t be her until after lunch. It should be fine.” 

“Thank you.” She nodded before retreating from our exam room. “I need to let Jeff know. We need someone to have the car pulled around when we leave.” 

“You can go talk to them while we wait, Harry.” I said softly, reaching for his hand. “Or after, even, I don’t mind.”

“M’not really in the mood today.” He mumbled, reaching for his phone. “I want you in the car, untouched and safe more than anything.” 

I didn’t argue with him, nodding along as Ellis moved around in my belly. 

Harry spent most of the wait typing on his phone, no doubt talking with Jeff. I sat there anxiously, twiddling with my fingers while I waited for our doctor to come in. Another ultrasound would be happening today and we would be going over the final steps of my pregnancy and birth plan. When Dr. Hillcrest stepped inside, my heart rate increased. Harry put his phone away, reaching for my hand as she greeted us. 

“So, how have you been feeling Mummy?” She asked, sitting down on her stool with her clipboard in hand. “Any braxton hicks?”

“Once or twice.” I nodded. “First time I thought I was in labor, scared the hell out of me.”

“It is quite scary when you’re not used to it.” She chuckled. “As we’re nearing the end of your third trimester, there are some things we need to go over. We’re doing tests for Glaucoma, Anemia, Hep B, and a few other things. We’ll be going over the final steps of your birth plan today as well. Have you toured any of the hospital’s in Milan?” 

“Yes, I did a few last week.” I nodded. “I’ve decided on Mangiagalli.”

“Perfect.” She said. “I’ll get in contact with the head of the Maternity Ward today and I’ll make sure they have all of the information.” 

“We’re really hoping he’s not born in Milan.” Harry chuckled softly. “It would be a bit odd to have him there while Beatrice is trying to close out the office.” 

“Odd is a very nice way to say it.” I laughed. “But I’m glad we’re prepared.” 

“Babies wait for no one.” Dr. Hillcrest let out a soft chuckle. “I hope you don’t deliver there either, I would love to be there with you when you deliver.” 

It took another hour or two before we were finished in the office. 

I was told that in about four weeks, I would need to stop flying. 

That gave me plenty of time to get things finished up in Milan before making it home to London. Harry had plenty of questions for Dr. Hillcrest and I was thankful that he remembered all the ones I wanted to ask as well. When we were done with the testing and the ultrasound, Harry helped me slip back into my comfortable clothes before lacing his fingers with mine. The nervous smile he gave me meant there was still a crowd outside that we had to deal with. I squeezed his finger, reassuring him that no matter what happened, we would be fine.

“The car is up front.” He said softly. “We’re getting you in first and then me. No stopping, no talking, just get in the car.” 

“Alright.” I said softly. “We’ll be fine.” 

“I know.” He kissed me quickly before leading me outside. 

The cheering increased, loud screams and Harry’s name being chanted nearly shocked me. I hadn’t seen a crowd this big outside of a building before. I glanced over at Harry, my heart rate picking up a little as he talked to a man dressed in all black. Harry glanced back at me, pulling me closer to his side before ushering me to the car. He opened the passenger side door for me, shielding my body from the crowd as my hands started to shake. He reached for my seat belt, his eyes full of worry and anxiety. 

“I’m sorry, honey.” He cooed, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “S’gonna be alright. Just give me a minute, yeah?” 

“I love you.” I said, reluctant to let his hand go.

“I know, honey.” His lips pressed into mine. “You’ve gotta let go so I can get in, okay?” 

I nodded weakly, loosening my grip up. 

Harry shut the door and I tried to avoid looking out the window, but there was a crowd of girls moving in closer and closer. I was afraid that they would get to the door before I did, but I couldn’t lock Harry out. I gasped when the drivers side door opened, snapping my head around to see Harry. He locked the doors before flipping the car in drive. Seconds after we started moving, I heard thudding against the side of the car door. My anxiety was washed away by anger, water splashing against the side of the car as they continued to throw their bottles at us. 

“Fucking hell.” I snapped, my fingers balling up into fists. “That’s just ridiculous.” 

Harry didn’t say a word, peeling out of the lot and onto the streets of London. 

He was careful not to speed the entire way home, but I could tell that he wanted to. 

At some point, his hand landed on my thigh, squeezing firmly as his jaw clenched. I watched the profile of his face, worried more about how he was taking it than myself. These were his fans that had pissed him off. They had come to close for comfort and they had crossed a line when they started throwing things at us. When we made it home, he slammed the car into the park before getting out. Gently, he helped me out of the car, his hand landing right on my bump as my feet hit the ground. The small action sparked something in me, a pool of wetness beginning to form between my thighs. When we made it in the house, Harry started to move away from me. 

“Wait,” I said, holding his hand tightly. “Where are you going?” 

“Gonna go blow off some steam.” He said. “I’m fucking livid.” 

“I know.” I nodded. “Take it out on me.” 

“What?” He said, his wild eyes growing wider as he let out a bitter laugh.  “I’m not gonna do that, Beatrice.” 

“I want you to take it out on me, Harry.” I stepped forward, reaching for his other hand. “Fuck me.” 

“Beatrice, no.” He said. “What happens if I’m too rough? What happens if I lose-” 

“As if I would let you do anything to harm me seriously, Harry.” I scoffed. “You’ll be fine and I promise to tell you if it’s too much. But please, fuck me.” 

His chest was heaving as he looked down at me, his lips shiny from licking and biting over them nervously in the car. He let out a soft curse before lunging forward, his hands grabbing my face firmly. I whimpered in relief when he pressed his lips into mine, his tongue showing no mercy as it explored my mouth. It had been weeks since we made love and months since we’d had a proper fuck. Things were more tender for us in the bedroom, Harry’s fear of harming me or Ellis ever present at the front of his mind. When my bum collided with the couch, I knew I was going to get what I wanted from him. Harry pulled his lips from mine, tugging my shirt over my head quickly. 

My leggings were next to go, my hands pressed into his shoulders as I clumsily stepped out of them. I didn’t bother with a bra or panties, knowing that our only stop would be the doctor's office today. When Harry’s head disappeared past my bump, I whined. Seconds later, I felt his teeth scraping over my thigh before lightly biting down. I welcomed the sting, a rush of warmth flooding over me as my pussy began to throb before him. Harry pulled back when I started to move my hips closer to his face, wanting to feel his tongue caressing my clit. 

“Not now.” He growled out, standing up. “Upstairs, on the bed.” 

“What?” I squeaked out, sure that I would get my proper fucking right here. “What’s wrong with the floor?” 

“Now, Beatrice.” He gripped my chin with his thumb and forefinger, his voice stern. “On all fours.” 

When I turned around reluctantly, pouting at the missed opportunity for floor sex, I felt a sharp smack on my ass. I cried out, glancing back at Harry as I pressed my hand over my bum. Harry smirked at me, crossing his arms as I waddled away with narrowed eyes. I had asked for it and I was definitely going to get what I wanted. I climbed up the stairs slowly, waddling towards our bedroom. When I made it to our bed, I did as I was told. My hands and knees pressed into the plush mattress, our duvet soft on the skin of my knees. Maybe this was better than the floor. 

After a few moments, Harry was pushing into the room behind me. He wasted no time stripping himself down before kneeling on the bed behind me. I opened my mouth, prepared to make a smart comment about him being eager, but I was cut off before I could even speak. The head of his cock pushed into me first and then the rest followed. I gasped, dropping my head forward as his hips collided with mine. I clenched my eyes shut, welcoming the feeling of Harry’s length. 

“Always squeeze me so good.” Harry moaned out behind me and I could imagine he’d dropped his head back in bliss. “Hold tight for me, yeah? Tell me if it’s too much, Beatrice. Promise me you will.” 

“I promise,” I gasped out as he pulled away, his cock leaving my walls vacant and begging for more. It didn’t last long before was fucking into me again, harder this time as his fingers dug into the flesh of my hips. “Oh!” 

Harry’s soft grunts and the force of his thrusts had me sitting on cloud nine. I was enjoying the pounding I was getting, his hips slapping against mine as he gave me everything he had. I was a babbling mess below him, begging for more, harder, faster, please! Harry met my every need, angling his hips perfectly so that he was hitting every spot within me that I needed to be satisfied. It didn’t take long for me to cum around him, my walls fluttering without warning as my arms started to grow weak. Harry was quick to mold his chest to my back, pulling me up until my head was dropped back on his shoulder. He had no problem fucking me just as hard as I came around his cock. 

“V’got you honey,” He nipped at my ear. “I’ve got you. Gonna make you cum again for me, okay? Can you do one more for me?” 

I nodded, but that wasn’t enough.

“Say it.” He grunted, sliding the hand that was holding my  belly up to my throat. “Use your words.” 

“Please, Harry.” I whimpered as his fingers rested over my throat. “Make me cum again.” 

“Good girl.” His teeth raked over the skin of my shoulder before he bit down on me, a loud moan tearing from my throat. “There’s my girl, so fucking good for me all the time.” 

“Yes, yes.” I cried out as he delivered a few thrusts that were harder than the others. “M’gonna cum, M’gonna-” 

“Do it.” He said. “Cum on my cock honey. Give me a good one.” 

A flash of white took over my senses as I tightened around his cock. 

I wasn’t sure if I had moaned, my mouth dropped open as I reached out for Harry’s hand on my hips. My body jerked against his as he stilled inside of me, grunting loudly in my ear as his hips flexed forward. He pushed his cum inside of me, almost as if he was trying to put another baby in me. When I finally came back to my senses, Harry was slipping out of my walls and I was crying. 

“No, no.” I sniffled, reaching back for his hips. “Stay.” 

“Honey, I’m...I can’t.” 

A soft sob ripped out of my throat and seconds later, Harry was guiding my body to the bed. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” His hands were flying all over my body, pressing into my skin to make sure I was fine. He settled his palm on my belly, his eyes wide with fear. “What hurts?” 

“I just wanted you to stay in me.” I sniffled, reaching up to wipe under my eyes. “I’m so empty now.” 

“Oh, honey.” He collapsed on the bed next to me, kissing over my face. “It’s alright, it’s gonna be alright.” 

I curled myself into his chest, digging my fingers into his sides as he covered our naked bodies with the throw at the end of our bed. He pressed gentle kisses over my forehead, brushing his hand up and down my back in soothing circles to try and calm me down. Rationally, I knew it was pregnancy hormones, but I still felt empty without his cock in me. 

“Turn around fo’ me.” He whispered, patting my thigh. I did as he said, turning on my side as another sob pulled from my throat. “It’s alright, honey. Lift your leg up and put it on the pillow.” 

He guided one under my leg, brushing his hand softly over my thigh as he moved his front closer to my back. Seconds later, I felt the head of his cock at my entrance. 

“Hold on, sweet girl.” He whispered. “You ready?” 

I nodded my head, reaching back to hold onto his hip as he slipped inside of me, harder than he had been earlier when we started our little escapade. 

“So fucking tight, honey.” He whimpered into my ear. “S’that what you wanted?” 

“Yes.” I gasped out wetly, nodding my head. “S’full.” 

“Love you so much, Beatrice.” He whispered as I started to drift off. “Close your eyes for me honey, go to sleep. 

“Love you, too.”

[heartbeatan]

Damned Royalty (Chapter 1)

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Jimin Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 1

Excitement. Trepidation. All these things coursed through your veins as you strode down the long halls of the office building. The building you knew like the back of your hand. The building you practically grew up in.

Employees left and right bowed as you passed them, just as they did everyday and had for the past few decades of your life. You cheerfully smiled and nodded back to them – to these people – these people who after today would be one step closer to becoming your people.

Despite having all the preparation one could hope for – this career, this education, these connections – you still felt an unimaginable weight upon your shoulders. You hadn’t earned your place at this conglomerate the way “your people” had. You hadn’t come up from nothing and proven your worth the way your father had asked them too. No. Because you were the heir. This life, these opportunities were handed to you on a silver platter.

You were the princess to an empire. An empire for which their livelihoods hinged. And when the time came, and you were fully at the helm, it would be you responsible for them and for your parent’s legacy.

That’s why today was so crucial. Today was the day you finally stepped out from underneath the wings of your parents and showed them and all these people what you could really do with the privilege you had been given.

As your heels clicked along the tile towards your father’s office, you mentally reviewed everything you had been reading for the past several days. Numbers. Figures. Politics. All which was relevant to todays big meeting. Your first major account and first swing at managing the business.

You turned the corner to your father’s office and were greeted by a secretary dressed sharply in a grey pencil skirt and white blouse.

“Ms. Y/N,” she stood up when she saw you.

“Is my father in there, Yoonha?”

“Yes. He’s waiting for you.”

“Thank-you,” you nodded as you marched past her desk and entered the office.

The room was as it always had been. Dark. Wood. Studded Leather. All the signs of power and old money. Your father was seated, as expected, behind his massive mahogany desk, his face buried in his work. He peered up at you over his glasses as you entered the room but didn’t greet you as you took your place in the leather wing chair across from him.

“There’s been a change,” he finally spoke as he placed his pen down and folded his hands across his chest. “The meeting has been postponed until next week.”

“What?” your voice rose as your heart sank. How could it be postponed? Did something change? Were the clients backing out? Had you screwed something up in the proposal? “What happened?”

“Nothing is wrong. Something came up with another client that we need to address immediately, so your account has been shuffled to next week.”

“Which client?”

“No one to concern yourself with.”

“Well, surely it is if they’re important enough to postpone one of our largest accounts.”

His lips pressed into a firm line, the way it did when he was debating about what to say next – what to say to you. The gesture infuriated you. Your father had always been… protective of you. Over-protective of his “little girl” the way he thought a father should be. But you weren’t his little girl anymore. You were a woman, preparing to take his place. He couldn’t shelter you from the world anymore the way he did when you were a child. There was no all-girls prep school he could shuffle you off too the first time he saw you talking to a boy; or personal coach he could hire to be sure you made the softball team. Not this time.

“Dad, please,” you pleaded with him. “If I’m going to be running the business one day, you need to let me in on what’s going on around here.”

“I’m just not sure you’re ready for this part of the business.”

“Then help me get ready. Let me sit in. I’ll be quiet and just observe. You won’t even know I’m here.”

His expression didn’t waiver. Whatever it was, he didn’t want you around. But you weren’t willing to give up just yet. So, you pulled out your secret weapon.

“Please. You know how much I love to watch you work. I learn so much from you,” you rounded your eyes and your lips formed into a pout. It was the one advantage you had over an adoring father – he could often be manipulated into giving you what you wanted.

He didn’t speak for another moment, but you could tell this time you had worn him down. He just needed one more push.

“And when the business is mine to run, I want to make you proud. Please let me sit in?”

Your father let out a sigh and rubbed his palms together.

“The thing is, Y/N,” he began. “The people we’re dealing with are dangerous people.”

You furrowed your brow, confused. “Dangerous in what way?”

“They have a lot of money and a lot… a LOT… of power and influence.”

“Is it Kim Enterprises? Or some government official?”

“No,” he sighed again. “It’s the Park’s.”

You cocked your head. The Park’s? Growing up as one, you thought you knew every chaebol in the country, - but you had never heard of the Park’s before.

“I… I’m sorry, father, I don’t think I know the Park’s.”

“I’m sure you have heard of them, sweetie. Stanford Park.”

The name was familiar, but you couldn’t figure out why you knew that name. Stanford Park? you repeated to yourself over and over again until finally it clicked.

“You mean the mob boss? Stanford Park?”

Your father nodded grimly. You felt your jaw drop as he did. You had so many questions, yet you were stunned into silence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I should have told you long ago.”

“We do business with the mob?!” you nearly shrieked. “Nonetheless the Park’s of all of them?”

“We have no choice, sweetie. This is the way of the world. They rule this city. If you aren’t in bed with them then you’ll find yourself in a position you really, really didn’t want.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your father, of all people – the man who raised you, to whom you looked up to as a beacon of strength and character – had been in business with the most powerful crime ring in the country.

“For…” your voice croaked. “For how long?”

Your father looked guiltily back at you over the rims of his glasses and your heart sank. You knew then it had been for a long time…

“I’m sorry. I was afraid to tell you. But, you’re right. I need to let you in on all aspects of the business. This one, is unfortunately a key to our survival – whether or not we like it.”

You were in shock, really, but at the same time you scolded yourself for being so naïve. You had always heard the rumours. The rumours of how interlaced so many of your peers were with crime. You knew the Park’s especially had their fingers in nearly everyone’s business, but for some reason you innocently thought yours had been safe.

“Are you disappointed in your old dad?” your father broke you from your thoughts.

“No,” you sighed. “I’m just surprised, is all. I do wish you had told me earlier.”

“I’m sorry. I should have. But, now do you see why I don’t want you sitting in with us? I don’t want you involved with those kinds of people.”

“Well, if what you say is true, I already am involved with them. I might as well get a handle on the relationship sooner than later.”

He nodded. But you could tell he was no more happy about this than you were.

“When are they coming in?”

 

An hour passed and you were waiting anxiously in your father’s office for your clients. In that time, you had managed to review the file and prepare yourself as much as you could before their arrival. You really, really wished then you had known about your father’s relationship with the Park’s long ago. If you had, perhaps you would feel more confident and competent than you did at this moment. Regardless, who were you if not someone who was quick on her feet and adaptable. This meeting would act as your first big test.

You heard a noise outside the office, and your throat knotted. They were here. You stood up from the couch, smoothed your skirt and waited for the knock at the door. But a knock never came. Instead, the doors swung open and in strode two large men in dark suits, clearly security types. Behind them strode in an older man, about your fathers age, his head held high and his shoulders pulled back. You assumed that was Stanford Park.

Behind him in walked another man. A younger man – perhaps about your age - dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit. He had thick, smooth locks of honey-blonde hair, and a creamy, clean complexion which pulled tight over his remarkably chiseled features. He was handsome - you couldn’t deny it. It was the first thing you noticed about him, but it was those eyes of his were what really caught your attention. They were a dark, but warm, shade of brown, yet somehow, they were icy cold. His hands dipped into his pockets, he sashayed casually into the room with the aura of a man who owned the place - and for a second you may have believed that he did. He looked insouciantly around the room, at the walls, the décor, the faces as he made his way to the chair seated across from you.

“Gentlemen,” your father smiled and gestured his hand towards Stanford. Stanford took his hand and shook it firmly, before taking a seat. As if rehearsed, the room followed suit, unbuttoning their jackets as they too sat down. You watched the striking blonde man across from you as he did - you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Who was he?

Then, suddenly, his eyes snapped up to catch yours staring at him. In that moment, you could have sworn the air was sucked out of the room. Those eyes – the way they pierced through you, like you were a sheer curtain. You quickly averted your gaze towards Stanford.

“Can I offer you anything before we start, sir?”

Stanford turned to look at you, a wave of concern and confusion washing over his features.

“Forgive me for my manners,” your father spoke. “This is my daughter, Y/N.”

“Ahh,” Stanford nodded in relief. “You’ve grown up so much, Ms. Y/N.” You smiled politely back at him – a bit shaken that it seemed like this wasn’t your first meeting. Then Stanford turned back to your father. “I see we’re both trying to groom the next generation. Meet my son, Jimin,” he gestured towards the honey-blonde in front of you. So that’s who he was… Park Jimin. The son and heir to the Park family. The prince to a mafia empire.

You turned back to Jimin and stuck out your hand. His gaze was locked on you – it was intense – intense enough to send a shiver slithering down your spine. Was this just how he looked at people? He didn’t take your hand right away – or, at least it felt like it wasn’t right away. Instead, he just watched you. You felt more than self-conscious, but you kept your eyes locked on his to be sure you remained as in control and as professional as possible. After another moment, you were sure you could see the corner of his mouth curve upwards ever so slightly, before he leaned forward and took your hand in his.

Palm to palm, he gripped your hand firmly, and held it tight, as if he had no intention of letting it go.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he finally spoke. His voice rung through your ears. There was something in his tone… something almost salacious about the way he greeted you that had your heart pounding in your chest and your body on edge. He released his hold on your hand and you were sure you gasped for air. Whatever it was about him, it shook you to your core.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself. You turned back to your father and Stanford and smiled, but you could feel in your periphery that Jimin was still watching you.

“Let us begin then,” Stanford prompted, so, you opened up your file.

The meeting went on forever. The Park’s were in the process of “going legitimate” as they called it. Or, at least they were trying to open up several fronts to make them appear legitimate. For hours you discussed their existing assets, their future plans and goals and their potential. Your father and Stanford did most of the talking. Jimin seemed indifferent – or, he at least seemed indifferent to the business discussions. Something else was clearly on his mind, and that something else was you. As much as you tried not to notice or acknowledge it, Jimin stared intently at you basically the whole time. It was unnerving. He looked like he was sizing you up. Like a predator about to attack its prey. You shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, crossing one leg over the other. Jimin’s seemed to like when you did. His gaze would wander down the length of your legs then back up to the hem of your skirt, before his eyes would lock back in on your face. It was more than distracting.

By the second hour, it had become less unnerving and more irritating. Part of you wanted to screech in the middle of the room “What’s your problem?” but you didn’t want to make a scene in the middle of such an important meeting. Finally, when enough had become enough, you turned your head to face him and look him dead in the eye. He didn’t waiver. He didn’t dart his eyes away the way a normal person would when they were caught staring. No. He wanted you to know he was watching you. You cocked your eyebrow at him, giving him a sort of silent “What’s your deal?”

The pads of his fingers danced across his lips, and you could see the curve of a smile begin to form behind them. He knew he was getting to you and he liked it.

“I’m very curious to hear what you have to say, Ms. Y/N,” Stanford’s voice broke your attention from Jimin back to the room. “Since you’ll be who we deal with in the future, and all.”

The room went silent, and you could feel all eyes – at least the ones that weren’t already on you – turn to watch you in anticipation. You could feel your father’s worried energy radiate off him. You had only been introduced to this account an hour ago.

“Well, forgive me, Mr. Park, I’m new to your file,” you began. “But I do see one area we can improve.”

“And what is that?”

“Well, since you want to open up a new restaurant, I see you already have a strip club located in Guri. The thing is, that neighbourhood is in an upswing. New, swanky buildings are being constructed every day. It’s going to be a really posh area soon. The residents aren’t going to appreciate having the club around. However, it would be the perfect place for a restaurant. Given that you already own the real estate, you’ll be ahead of the game in terms of profits.”

The room went quiet again and your heart began to pound in your ears. For a moment you feared you had stated something all too obvious, or something that had already been discussed that you missed while you were distracted by Mr. Park’s insufferable son. But before you could flush red in embarrassment, Mr. Park began to nod his head.

“I like that idea. We can move the club to a new area were real estate prices are still low.”

“Yes, of course, sir,” you smiled.

“And we’ll convert the existing club into the restaurant,” Jimin spoke again for the second time.

“Yes,” you nodded, turning back to him – relieved that this time he had a reason for looking at you.

“Great,” Jimin leaned forward towards you as he spoke. “Let’s do that. I’ll oversee it.”

“Perfect, son,” Mr. Park gave Jimin a pat on the back.

“Great, then,” said your father. “I’ll have a team put on it and we’ll draw up the plans and the proposal to your liking.”

“I want to work with her,” Jimin nodded his head in your direction. “It was her idea. I want her on the project.”

Once again the room felt as if the air had been sucked out of it. You weren’t sure why. On one hand, it could be the excitement of overseeing your first major account, on the other, however, it could have been the unease you felt about having to see this Jimin character more than once after today. You knew your father would hate that – hate that you were working with these people, but if they were as influential and powerful as he said they were, you and he may have no choice.

“Forgive me,” your father spoke. “She hasn’t handled something of this scale yet – I’ll have my best people put on it.”

“No need,” Jimin sat back in his chair and straightened out his jacket. “Her and I will be working closely in the future anyway. Might as well start now. We can get to know each other.”

We can get to know each other. Something deep in your gut tingled at the way he said it – as if he was implying more than simply work. The thought should have frightened you, but something about it only intrigued you.

What was wrong with you?

[bethhxrmon]

do flowers exist at night? -chapter one

Chapter One: The Party That Was Not A Graveyard Smash

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Chapter Summary: In an attempt to try and fit in and make friends, Annie decides to take a chance on a Halloween party. Whether or not it was a good idea is up for debate.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Swearing, Billy being the awful person he truly is

A/N: So here we are, the first full chapter! I hope everyone enjoys this and if you feel so inclined, let me know what you think! If you missed the prologue, you can find it here.

~*~*~*~

The bell rang for class to start, but that was not enough to pry Annie away from her book. With Carrie’s destruction of an entire town in full-swing, how could anyone expect her to put it down? There weren’t many pages left. She already went through this section of government class in two other schools already. Not to mention her lawyer mother made sure she knew the Constitution forwards and backwards, especially the Bill of Rights. 

“Annette, is that what we’re doing right now?” the teacher asked.

Annie’s head snapped up and she slowly closed the book, “Um… no, sorry.”

Right behind her, she could hear Carol snickering with Tommy. Instead of turning around and snapping at them like she so badly craved, she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“Well, being new is not going to exempt you from participating in this class. How many amendments were in the Bill of Rights?” the teacher asked, staring her down.

Annie tried to hold back a laugh and failed, “Ten, do you want me to name them all? We’ve got the first one with freedom of speech, petition, assembly, press, and religion. Then the next one is the right to bear arms. After that we’ve got the soldier quartering act, the freedom from search and seizure… should I continue?”

“I will continue teaching the class. You will pay attention,” replied the teacher, her face flushing.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the King of Hawkins High himself trying to not to laugh from a couple desks in front of her. He then shifted his position and caught Annie’s eye. Annie arched an eyebrow and then Steve nodded to her book.

An oddly specific act of kindness in her opinion, Annie shrugged and went back to her book. This time, she also made an effort to position herself so it wouldn’t be obvious she was reading. Even though she could tell Steve was making an effort to help her out for whatever reason. She continued reading the destruction as it came to an end. The hardest thing about not giving herself away was not allowing herself to react to what she was reading.

The book was finished within the next fifteen minutes and she looked over at the board. No one was paying attention. Everyone was talking about the party at Tina’s. Despite not having anyone to go with, Annie contemplated going anyway. Being home alone for the last few days made the matter lose its novelty.

Within the last half hour of class, Annie put away her copy of Carrie and pulled out The Exorcist. It was Halloween, what else was she going to read? Perhaps reading about supernatural experiences wasn’t the best thing to read while she was home alone, but she didn’t care. After watching the movie, she had to know what it was all supposed to be about.

When the bell rang, Annie closed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She fidgeted with the sleeve of her black and white striped shirt as she made her way to her locker. Once she unlocked it, she got the things she needed and left the building.

She pulled her Walkman out of the pocket of her dark blue windbreaker, put her headphones on over her ears and pressed play. The Walkman went back into Annie’s pocket as she walked. There were a few mix-tapes in a small pocket of her backpack and several more at home. All with long titles written with a black fountain pen in sloppy cursive varying from “songs to give me that good boost of dopamine” to “i need to feel like a badass in half an hour or less”. The tape currently in her Walkman was “spooky vibes for the spookiest day of the year”. A Halloween mix-tape felt fitting.

“Time Warp” was going through her ears as she made her way down the street. Having lived in large cities where a car would have been a hassle, Annie only relied on public transit in the past. After the divorce, her mom only had enough money to get one car. There wasn’t much of a chance for Annie to learn how to drive and the bus took far longer to get her home than walking did.

Sure, there was a bit of a chill, but Annie just zipped up her jacket over her shirt and had her hands in the pockets. In the pocket without the Walkman, she could feel her switchblade. After years of late night rehearsals in Seattle, she wasn’t about to play around with staying safe in any town. Even if it was as small as Hawkins.

After about half an hour, Annie got home just in time for “Ghostbusters” to play. A small, brick-colored house stood in front of her. She unlocked the front door and went inside. Immediately, Erik started dashing around the house, causing Annie to smile.

She took off her headphones, letting them hang around her neck.

“You’ve been keeping busy,” she said, watching as Erik finally stopped when he hopped on the windowsill in the living room.

There wasn’t much to be done, so she put her headphones on again and pulled out her book from her backpack, flopping on the couch. After reading for a little bit, she closed her book and marked her page with the flyer for Tina’s party. 

Was she really going to go? The thought of waiting for children to come knocking on her door when she was perfectly aware no one would come was a last resort for sure. The small house she shared with her mom edged on the outskirts of town. Some annoying middle schooler even claimed it was haunted. All she remembered about him was he wore a baseball cap and had super curly hair. 

However, ghosts were not real, so there was nothing to worry about. At least, that was what Annie told herself as she got up from the couch. She went over to her room, putting the cassette in her boombox so she could hear it as she got ready for the party. What else was she going to do with her time?

Maybe it would be fun. Maybe she could get some friends. Maybe things would stop feeling like they were steadily falling apart. 

She pressed the play button and music started to come from her boombox as she went to her closet. If she didn’t put this Sandy costume to use now, she would never get a chance to use it. So she changed into the black pleather pants and a black, cold shoulder shirt. It was simple but obvious. All that was left was some hair and makeup.

That was easier said than done as Annie distracted herself dancing around her bathroom as “Superstition” played in her room. She spun around, dancing like an idiot and suddenly everything went black. The power had to have cut out again, but that didn’t change how jarring it was to be in a pitch black room. Unable to even see what was in front of her, she reached out to the wall to try and find her way to the door.

It was a good idea until she felt something wet and slimy and she recoiled. A scream left her mouth and she shut her eyes, not sure what that was at all. Something just felt off.

And just like that, the power came back on. As for the slimy wall, it was dry. There was still residue on her hand and she was quick to scrub it all off. She made sure to leave the bathroom door open this time in case the power cut out again.

By the time her hair was all curled and teased and her eye makeup and red lipstick were applied, it was about time for the party. She threw on her shoes and the black leather jacket that was supposed to tie the whole thing together. The only thing that was super different was the lack of red heels. Her switchblade was in the pocket of her jacket and she left once her cat had his food.

It took a decent walk to get to Tina’s, but it wasn’t nearly as dangerous as she figured. With a bunch of kids running around, she was in decent company for most of the walk.

Finding Tina’s house was the easy part when she saw all the different people going in and out. It took a bit more courage to walk up to the house and go inside.

What if they didn’t like her? The thought of people actually liking her was a bit more tempting than caving to the prior thought. So she forced herself to walk all the way up to the house and inside.

There were other teens in their own costumes and it was already loud and people were dancing around. She could smell the alcohol as it mixed in with sweat and cigarette smoke. Probably a bit of weed too, but she couldn’t be too sure. If she didn’t cower into herself, then maybe she had a chance at fitting in.

As she walked towards the punch bowl, she couldn’t help feeling the eyes of someone staring at her from across the room. Her eyes ended up meeting Billy Hargrove’s for just a moment. Annie was quick to turn away and focus on filling up her cup. 

Liquid courage would do the trick, right? It had done her some form of good in the past. She just needed a chance to relax.

Spending time on her own for so long made her want nothing more than to be around other people. Being liked by them would be a nice addition too. With the way Billy looked at her, it was possible that things were taking a turn for the better.

Annie would never admit it, but she kind of had the tiniest grudge against the boy. After all, he had the nerve to move into Hawkins a couple weeks after she had. It solidified her position in the school as the depressed weird girl. Sure, she might have done some of that to herself, but that didn't mean that she didn't long to be liked and to have someone to talk to.

Besides, there could be a sense of camaraderie between both of them. They were both from places far away from Hawkins. And, okay, maybe Annie was using all of this to justify the fact that she was going to try talking to him because he was hot. Was that such a crime?

It was Nancy Wheeler coming over and almost pushing her away from the punch bowl that ripped Annie from her thoughts. She rolled her eyes, walking away from her and over to where Billy was.

And just as she thought, he was kind of charming. Almost in the same way her last boyfriend had been. This was the sort of thing that she was supposed to be doing. Not reading all the books that she could find alone in her house, but flirting with people and partying. If she was stuck in this town, she may as well try to find someone worth talking to.

Two cups of punch later and she'd somehow managed to gain some sense of popularity. When some of her favorite songs came on, she had no trouble going out and dancing. What she wasn't the biggest fan of was how Billy was now at a point where he seemed to be staring at her almost too intently.

"Hey, what do you say I get you another drink?" Billy asked, looking down at her.

Annie shook her head, leaned against the wall, "It's all good, I've still gotta walk home.

"Walk home?! Come on, I can take you home myself," he said, turning so he all but had her cornered there.

She was quick to shake her head again, "That's fine, you've been drinking, I'd rather not deal with that."

"I haven't had that much," he insisted, though Annie could smell the alcohol right on his breath.

Sure, she was a little tipsy, but she wasn't stupid either. If she went in his car, he'd try to screw around with her. Which would have been fine if she was into that, but she just wanted to hang out somewhere for a few hours. Flirting wouldn’t be too bad either, but she really just wanted to talk to people.

"Um... I'm good, seriously, and can you get-" she was cut off by a sudden silence in the room.

While Annie wasn't sure of what happened, she was pretty sure Steve just got Nancy to spill red punch all over her sweater. Regardless of who was at fault there, Billy had turned just enough that she could duck away and leave the house. If she stayed much longer, she wasn't sure anyone would have tried to help her out.

The Halloween air was a bit chilly, so she tugged her leather jacket around herself. Some people were standing around the front yard. No one seemed to notice she was there. It was like the black costume made her blend into the night. At least she could say she really tried. She went to a party and tried to talk to people. It was on her for thinking Billy wouldn't end up creeping her out.

She wasn't sure if she really wanted to take the walk back to her house just yet. Obviously she would have to eventually, but she wished she could have made a friend who could drive her home later. Instead, she was stuck in the middle of the walkway, staring down at some streetlights. It was a bit too bright for her to really see any of the stars.

Someone brushed right past her, almost shoving her to the side, "Hey, what the hell?!"

Her words were either deliberately ignored or she had been too quiet to have been heard in the first place. It seemed that was happening more and more lately. Though, it only took her a couple seconds for her to realize that it had been Steve who brushed her to the side like that. For being the King of Hawkins High, no one seemed to be going after him.

A bit of alcohol still in her system, she jogged a little bit, "Hey, Harrington."

"I already said I was sorry," he snapped, "What do you want?"

Annie blinked, "Well um... I um..."

"Listen, now's a shitty time-"

"Jesus Christ, let me finish my sentence!" Annie exclaimed before shaking her head, "Sorry, just... I know we're not friends or anything, but you look kinda lonely."

Steve grimaced, "Yeah, that's kind of the point."

The Steve Harrington standing in front of her now was a far cry from the guy who helped her sneak her book out in government that day. Maybe turning around and heading out was the better idea. Then she saw Billy starting to head out of the house and decided dealing with a broken-hearted jerk was a bit better than dealing with a creep.

"Well... I guess I don't know what happened-"

"So you wanna find out and gossip with Hargrove or some shit?" he asked, his hands on his hip.

Annie rolled her eyes, "Let me finish! No, I don't even know him that well. In case you didn't notice, I kinda don't have any friends." she noticed him start to open his mouth, "And don't you dare say anything until I'm done. I just-I wanted to check on you. I don't know what happened, and maybe I'm really overstepping here, but I wanted to make sure you're okay."

It was then that Annie noticed Steve looked like he was thirty seconds away from crying his eyes out.

"You're being serious?"

She nodded, "I wouldn't have anyone else to talk to about this... but if you really wanna be alone, I'll let you be."

"Ah, fuck it," he muttered, "Come on, book girl."

Annie couldn't stop herself from laughing as she started walking with him, "I've got a name, you know."

"Yeah, well..." he trailed off, looking down almost like he was trying to wrack his brain.

"Annette or Annie, whatever's easier to remember," she said.

Steve sighed, "Right... sorry, names just aren't really my thing. Nothing's really my thing, though."

"I'm sure that's not true. You're, like, super popular," she replied.

He scoffed, "Yeah, and that's why I'm bullshit."

She could see that Steve was rather pained about the whole thing. What that thing was, she wasn't completely sure. Of course, she wasn't even sure where they were walking off to either.

"Okay, who told you that?"

"Nancy."

Annie blinked in surprise, "Isn't that your girlfriend?"

"Don't remind me," he said, leading them both over to a small park.

She frowned, "I don't know how much it means coming from me, but I don't think you're bullshit."

"You don't even know me," he pointed out, sitting on a swing.

"No, but you're not a dick to me."

"A year ago I would've been."

Annie sat on the swing next to him, "And what the hell does the you from a year ago have to do with any of this?"

"I ki- I fucked up. I fucked up so many times. I shouldn't even be with Nancy right now, she had... every right to dump me and never look back. Apparently she's been wasting her time this whole time," he let out a shaky sigh.

She frowned, "Well... if you don't mind me asking,what's wrong with the both of you now?"

There was a sense of something between Steve and herself. It was obvious there was a barrier. Just because she was helping didn't mean he wanted to open up to her. At the same time, if he hadn't really wanted her there, he could have told her to fuck off at any point. So she chose to set her eyes on some moon flowers in the park.

Steve fumbled around in his pocket before pulling out a cigarette and a lighter, “Do you want one?”

“No sorry… um I quit a while back.”

Another silence fell between the pair as he lit a cigarette. Annie mentally cursed herself. Why would he care that she quit smoking? He most likely just asked the question to be nice.

"It's complicated. Last year was... it was really rough, we went through a lot. We went through it together, you know?" he took a deep breath, "I guess... I really thought we were getting through it, you know? And... I know it's almost a year, and I guess... I guess we're not seeing things the same way."

That was when Steve's voice cracked, and Annie hesitated to shift over so she was closer to him. She put an arm around Steve, letting him cry. Well, she couldn't see he was crying, but she assumed that was what he was doing.

She let out a soft breath, "Well, I'm no shrink, far from it, but I mean... she seemed pretty drunk. Maybe she wasn't thinking."

"I know she meant it, okay?!" he snapped, "Sorry, I... she's got a point."

"Just because someone has a point doesn't mean they're right. All I'm saying is that... maybe there's more you both have to unpack if what you went through was really that serious."

He shook his head, "Even if I'm not bullshit, which I doubt, she said she didn't love me anymore. I planned the rest of my life around us loving each other. I’m such a fucking idiot."

"Okay, I'm sure that's not true, Steve," she said despite having no clue, "She's probably just pissed off about something. You should probably just talk to her when she's sober. You guys seem to have something really good going, and you’re not an idiot."

Whenever she walked around the halls for the short time she was there, they looked pretty cute. Though, she supposed that wasn't everything. It still only seemed right to help him feel like there was something still worth fighting for.

Annie sighed, "All I'm saying is that there's gotta still be something there, right?"

"I guess," he said, "Why're you even here?"

"That's a loaded question, my friend," she said, patting his shoulder.

He turned, squinting his eyes at her, "Okay, why're you sitting here talking to me?"

"Well... a specific chain of events happened and you walked into me. I got kinda pissed because I felt invisible, and you looked like shit so I felt bad. And, well, the rest's history."

"I look like shit?" he asked with a halfhearted laugh.

She shrugged, "Your face is a bit red, but your costume's solid and your hair's still pretty good."

Steve started to chuckle, "Glad my hair's still got it... hey, did you need a ride?"

"Um... I don't, you're probably totally far off from where I live," she said, messing with her hands in her lap.

He shook his head, "Now that's some real bullshit. Come on, book girl, I'm driving you home. You'll get eaten alive out here by yourself."

"Alright, fine," she said, getting up, "I've still got a name, for the record."

Steve looked at her in thought, "Maybe... but I think mine suits you more. I've never seen someone read that much in two weeks."

"Perks of having no friends," she replied with a tight-lipped smile.

He got up, leading the way to his car, "And what does that make me? Chopped liver?"

"Hey, if the shoe fits."

By the time Steve pulled up to her house, it seemed like Steve looked better. No, he wasn't super happy, but he didn't look like he was about to cry his eyes out either. As it turned out, she barely lived a quarter mile away from his house.

She opened the door, "Thanks, um... I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Yeah, good night," he said, "And by the way, you're not as invisible as you think."

Annie paused before smiling, "Thanks for that, seriously."

Once she closed the door and headed inside her house, she could feel the novelty of the night drain. It was probably an anomaly. She was okay with that.

Tag List (let me know if you would like to be tagged!): @dungeons-and-demodogs​ @jxnehxpper​ @ilovebucketbarnes​

[roaminginspiration]

Before The Last Grain

Chapter 2 

chapter 1 (x)

2 MONTHS, 8 DAYS, 12 HOURS, 3 MINUTES AND 57 SECONDS

Steve groans slightly as his eyelids remain shut tight. He pulls his hand from under his pillow and stretches his arm out across the mattress. The void space next to him is sourly cool, and has been for a while. He sighs and flips over on his back. The past 3 weeks, and many nights over, Natasha has left nothing but the shape of her figure and the subtle scent of her perfume into his cotton silk; and heated memories to stretch the night and seep into the next morning.

Natasha never stays longer than necessary or longer than she intends to. She usually sends a text less than an hour before her impromptu visit, makes the bed her own then slips off the warm sheet to disappear into the starless night.

And every new shortened night deepens his yearning for her. So he gives more. Every embrace becomes more passionate, eager…and maybe, to some extent, desperate. He wonders if she can feel how every burning kiss, every lingering caress, every lustful union of their bodies conceal the mute disquiet slowly burgeoning inside him. How every ardent gesture is begging for her attention.

Yes, the past three weeks have been the most uncanny combination of consuming thrill and quiet agony. One that leaves him insatiable.

But those are Natasha’s terms for this innocent, harmless fling to endure. And Natasha is very much in control. From the moment she texts to the moment she slips away, she is the one leading the dance. Bold and unapologetic.

He liked it, at first. Very much so. Fantasizing about, and never knowing, when and how their next sexual escapade would take place. But what excited him now frustrates him. Harmless to her only, it seems. For he can feel it. The kisses she returns are as steamy as they are hollow. They’re nothing but the thrill of satisfying a carnal need but they lack warmth and closeness. She gives but doesn’t engage. Her sensual generosity only reflects her emotional indifference.

Maybe he’s never been one for those meaningless hook-ups. Lying in the dim room lit by the city lights glowing through the wide window pans, her absence only emphasizes his solitude. He’s gotten used to it — tomorrow morning, mind deep into his cases, the feeling will wane. He rolls over and pulls her cold pillow to him. Wrapping his arm around it, her familiar scent swirls up his nostrils and eventually drifts him to sleep.

A couple of days later, his phone beeps.

You free tonight? I’m starving

He smiles sternly.

Come on over. I’ll cook. 7 pm?

The screen of his phone flashes a few seconds later.

It’s a date ;)

The following evening, they’re sitting at the kitchen island with jazz music playing in the background.

“How was your day? Did you have to deal with one of Tony’s shenanigans?”

He smiles. “Oddly enough, Tony has been quite all right lately. Overall, a quiet and peaceful 36 hours.”

She chuckles. “Fingers crossed he passes the 48 hours bar,” she says before taking a new mouthful from her plate.

“Let’s not jinx it,” he jokes then rubs his hand over his forearm propped on the table. “How about you?”

She nods while swallowing with a smile then sweeps her hair over to the other side. “Just rehearsing. I’m giving a concerto in Toronto in about two weeks.”

“Sounds exciting.”

His eyes instinctively fall on her fingers, elegantly wrapped under her chin. He can see she has the hands of a pianist: strong and graceful, fingers long and slim.

“It’s mostly lots of practice, discipline, and resilience,” she comments with a shrug and reaches for her wine. Her fingers beautifully wrap around the glass. She gets pensive. “When I get on stage and hit the first key, that’s when it becomes all worth it.” She pivots on the stool and smirks cheekily. “When the audience claps and breaks into a pool of tears, well that’s the cherry on top.”

She comes off the stool and wanders across the penthouse over to the lounge room, past the fireplace to stand in front of the large windows facing the river and Manhattan.

“This view is humbling,” she murmurs in awe like she is seeing it for the first time. “I can see why you’d want to live in Brooklyn.”

He gets up and watches her closely, eyes locked on his own humbling view.

“The main reason I chose Brooklyn is I grew up here — I wouldn’t see myself living anywhere else. But I admit the view was quite a compelling reason to sign the lease.”

She falls into silent contemplation. She doesn’t notice but her fingers slowly begin to play the notes she’s quietly humming under her breath, spontaneously creating the first beats of a melody. It’s fascinating to watch.

She nods to herself, gaging the first draft in her mind before stopping altogether to lock it safely in a corner of her memory.

“Where were we?” she asks with a purring voice. She swings around and gently leans on the glass. Her glass of wine hanging at her side, the fingers of her other hand wonderingly trace a line up along the side slit of her skirt.

“If you’re still hungry, I have dessert in the fridge,” he says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

It makes her laugh. She drops head back onto the window glass. She pauses as she seems to gather her thoughts.

“You’re not like the other guys, you know that? You’re there, watching me sheepishly from across the room. It’s kinda hard to read you right now.”

He puts his glass down and walks over to her. He comes to stand in front of her.

“It’s not that hard, actually. All you have to do is ask.”

The corner of her mouth goes up a little. She tilts her head slightly and eyes him. Daring, yet hesitant.

“Ok. What are you thinking right now?”

“That I’m the luckiest guy in Brooklyn tonight for having such charming company. For the most part. But I must admit, also clueless, as to how the night will end.”

“How do you want it to end?” she cocks an eyebrow.

His hands are in his pockets. His pupils are locked on her. Calm and collected.

“You know how.”

It makes her smile and look away. Her expression changes slightly, turns unexpectedly wistful.

“This is just a game, Rogers. Just play along.”

“Except I don’t know the rules of it.”

She bites her thumb friskily. “There shouldn’t always be. Life is complicated enough.”

He glances away and nods to himself.

“Right. Then uncomplicate things. What’s going on right now?”

She shrugs innocently. “I’m just a woman, with a breathtaking view of Manhattan lying behind, looking at an attractive man she wants to lie in bed with.”

Electricity sparks around them and the short space between their bodies, pulling them together like magnets. Their lips crush together, invasive and devouring. Her free hand pins his waist against her. His mouth trails along her jaw to the nape of her neck — a particularly erogenous spot of her body as he’s learned. A moan escapes her lips as her arm jerks away and she presses the palm of her hand against the cool glass, sending chills along her flustering body.

She pulls him away and catches her breath. Natasha glances behind him and a mischievous smile comes to her lips.

“Doesn’t literally have to be a bed, though.”

Pressing her hand against his chest, she leads him along to the couch nearby. He trips over the edge and falls flat on his back. He leans on his elbows as she puts her glass of wine down on the coffee table nearby. She then climbs on the sofa and straddles him.

She’s already unbuttoning his shirt before he has time to voice any of his lingering concerns. All of them mellow into an unsound mush. All he feels and grasps right now is the growing and overwhelming longing, primal and imperial. His hands are mirroring hers, pulling her top off of her.

_____________________________________

The sizzling sound of the fireplace can only be heard between their lusty moans.

These same flames have lost in intensity a few hours later as they both lie naked on the rug by the fireplace. Lying on her stomach, her red hair, down and wavy, fall loosely on the side of her face as her fingers fiddle with the corner of the cushion her elbows are propped on. Her legs crossed, up in the air.

Steve watches how the warm incandescence from the fire shimmers over the curves of her flawless figure. The nib of his pencil is tracing soft lines over the paper, his sketchbook steadily pressed between his fingers. For the past hour and a half, he has been fighting off sleep in an inane attempt to prolong this evening. Maybe drawing her is a way to keep a piece of her with him, even long after she will be gone. Embossing this memory of her onto the thick paper with lead.

Natasha doesn’t seem to mind or give it much interest. She lets herself be his muse for the night.

But his keen eye gets heavier, and so does the hand holding the pencil. He can feel he’s losing his fight against sleep.

“Do you have many of your other conquests in that book?” she eventually asks.

Eyes fixed on his sketch, he smiles. “You’re the first actually.”

He has just finished tracing the small of her back, blissfully vertiginous, and is going on to outline the curve of her bottom.

She drops her head onto the cushion and smirks. “Will you let me see it?”

“We’ll see about that,” he comments lightly, focused on his task.

“You know this is possibly the most artsy thing ever. Can’t be topped…unless I just jumped and went to compose a new symphony, in the nude.”

“Well, I don’t have a piano. We can always ask the neighbor downstairs to let you use his.”

 “You’re a good guy, Steve. Any woman would be happy to have you,” she comments detachedly. “You should get yourself a Watch and wait for your girl. Just as she is.”

His eyes fall on the one handcuffed around her wrist. He watches the seconds tick by in dooming silence.

His expression turns serious. “I used to wear one,” he says, still drawing.

Natasha’s eyes swiftly lock on him. “Why did you take it off?”

“I wore it for many years. And then it just deactivated.”

Her features stiffen. Everybody has heard of it, and dreaded it. The loss of your soulmate. No message flashing on the screen, no comfort — just a blank screen. The Watch turns off forever, lifeless. No second option, no new Watch. For the wearer, the absolute certainty they will never meet their other half.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

He shrugs. “It’s okay. I managed to pull a few strings with people working for the Watch company and they traced back the code to her. Car accident. Her funeral happened to be a couple of days later and I attended the service,” he tells the story with a collected expression. “A British immigrant. Her name was Peggy Carter. And that was the end of it, really.”

The end of it before it had even started. It’d felt weird. Feeling a sense of loss without suffering any actual lack. You’re not emotionally affected and yet you’re grieving. Grieving for a person that was not from your past, but was supposed to fill your future. Grieving your own fate probably.

“Anyways, that was a while ago; and as strange as it sounds to say, I moved on.”

He smiles and she mirrors it, except weakly. The conversation then shifts to lighter topics.

He’s halfway through drawing her crossed calves when his eyes, burning with exhaustion, force him to surrender. He closes the sketchbook and drops in on the coffee table behind him. He reclines on the floor, head tilted in her direction. He watches her intently. She shows no ounce of exhaustion as shown by the swift motions of her fingers.

“You’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” he asks dozily. Her pupils dart in his direction.

“Don’t fret about it. It’s not worth it.”

“You know you could just take the key,” he says slowly. “I have a spare in the kitchen drawer. Since you’re gonna sneak out you might as well want to lock the door.”

She chuckles.

“You never asked where I live,” she muses aloud.

His eyelids are drooping like heavy curtains.

“Because I know you’re not ready to tell me.”

She pouts and mumbles her thumb.

“Oh dear, you really held on long this time,” she says to herself. Her voice seems to come from miles away.

Her figure turns blurry and his sight gets obscure.

“You’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” he manages to voice weakly.

Her figure leans over him.

“Good night, Rogers,” she murmurs then her lips gently graze his as he drifts to sleep.

The next morning, when he wakes up at dawn, the fire completely extinguished, he’s alone. He sighs, grabs his book and finishes the sketch, trying to revive the blazing night.

Natasha disappeared like the most ethereal fantasy. She answered his texts only briefly, in a detached way. And he soon understood he’d scared her away.

She doesn’t visit again.

Days go by and he resumes his normal routine. Work, social gatherings, and home. He sits on his couch, silently watching the skyline standing in front of him.

He catches himself missing the time when she would sneak out of his apartment. At least, he had her for a few hours then.

Over a week later, he’s in his bed. He puts a file down and looks at the clock. He remembers this is the night she is performing in Toronto.

He’s been asleep for many hours. He doesn’t hear the muffled sounds in his room. Then two arms come and drape over his bare back. The skin is slightly cooler from the soft wind outside. The familiar scent of her perfume hovers above him and lulls him.

She presses her body against his, spooning him, and lies the side of her face on his warm, soft skin.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes. It is too blissful of a dream to risk ending it and waking up to a disappointing reality. He lays his hand on her knuckles then holds it gently.

Next, they both sleep…until the end of the night. And beyond. 

The first time they sleep together.

1 MONTH, 27 DAYS, 11 HOURS, 18 MINUTES AND 16 SECONDS

[ladyofmaidensandwine]

Day Nine

Day Nine of the Hello Spring 2020 Writing Prompt Challenge

Characters- Dean Winchester, Fem! Reader, Chuck Shurley, Gabriel, Billie, Charlie Bradbury, Jo Harvelle, Bobby Singer

Prompt- Broadway/Theatre AU

Wordcount- 1,436

A/N- I know, Phantom of the Opera, how original. Phantom holds a special place in my heart, as I played Christine in a production of it, and it’s really just a bloody good show.

                Your entire life, you wanted to perform. The stage was your home, and your first love, and everything you’d been working towards since you were a girl. The moment you got the call that you had the part of Christine, you cried in joy, and had called everyone you knew to tell them the good news. For the past two months since, you’d been rehearsing by yourself, and finally the first rehearsal was announced. No one knew who the other leads were, and the press had yet to learn who Christine had been casted for, so the entire thing was a sort of reveal and surprise as well as the first official performance practice.

             “Hi, Y/N L/N?” You said with a smile to the registrar checking in all the performers. They handed you a name badge labelled Christine with your actual name in small font below it, and you continued into the auditorium. You were hit again with a rush of excitement as you quickly shook hands with the casting director, vocal coach, and the director, and then took your seat. You were so caught up in trying to process the fact that this was really happening, and didn’t even notice someone taking the seat beside your own. “Mind if I sit?” A gruff male voice questioned, and you whipped around with wide eyes to meet a pair of vibrant green eyes still waiting for a response.

              “By all means. Oh, I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N.” You introduced quickly. “Dean Winchester. Hey, weren’t you in Wicked, too?” Dean asked, brows furrowed as he recognized where he’d seen you before. “Yes, actually, I did a circuit as Elphaba on broadway. Forgive me, but you look familiar, too, I just can’t place it...” You trailed off, squinting at Dean. He was about to respond when the director called for silence, and instead flashed a quick smile your way before focusing.

              “Hello, welcome, and congratulations to all of you on making it to Phantom of the Opera on broadway. I’m your director, Chuck Shurley, and I’ll introduce everyone briefly before we jump in.” Chuck announced. “The casting director, whom you’ve met, is Bobby Singer, our vocal coach is Billie Reeper, and of course our head technician, Charlie Bradbury.” Chuck said, the three waving or smiling as they were listed. “Obviously, the names of who has been casted for each part has been kept secret, but today we are releasing them to the press. I’ll start from the bottom and work my way to the leads.” Chuck explained, before launching into a long list, from ensemble, to extras, to understudies- your understudy was a nice but sassy girl named Jo Harvelle- before reaching the main roles. “Playing Raoul, Gabriel Novak,” a shorter man with amber eyes and light brown hair gave a large and cheeky grin, “and as the Phantom, Dean Winchester, whom I’m sure you’ve heard of, as he played Jean Valjean in Les Mis, and, last but not least, in the role of the lovely Christine Daaé, Y/N L/N, most recently starring as Cinderella on broadway.” Chuck concluded.

                    Your eyes went wide when you realized where you’d seen Dean before- you had been in the ensemble of his performance. He seemed to know what you’d just recalled, winking at you with a sly grin, and you gave Dean the most annoyed look you could muster. “Now that that’s covered, I’d like to run through the show. Everyone should know their lines, and their songs by now, but this is just to see where you’re at before we can begin.” Chuck explained quickly. 

                  You sang your way through the opening scene, and everything ran smoothly. Rehearsals picked up, the press had a field day with the entire cast, and you spent countless hours each week perfecting the show. As you and Dean were co-stars, you became close quickly, and often Chuck would compliment your flawless and natural on-stage chemistry, which you admitted to yourself was less talented acting and more hopeless crush on the handsome man. You were a goner the moment you first heard him sing, and his charming personality, sense of humour, and flirty comments didn’t help. You’d kissed many people for many roles on the stage, but with Dean, it actually meant something, and you could safely say he was quite honestly the best kisser you’d ever met. 

                The first show began in only an hour, and you’d already gotten into your first costume. As you peeked at the completely sold-out auditorium, you could feel your nerves grow, and your breath hitched at the sight of so many people. You weren’t normally so nervous, but this was your dream role, and you desperately wanted your performance to be perfect, especially on opening night. Besides all the acclaimed critics, playwrights, and other actors and actresses watching, you had another person you wanted to impress- Dean. He’d practiced with you, of course, and you often would go eat dinner or lunch together and run lines at each other’s flats, but for an actual show, you couldn’t help but want to prove you were talented. 

                   “Don’t be nervous, Y/N. You’ll do great.” Dean assured. You had no idea how he knew what was running though your mind, but you were grateful for his support. “Thanks, Dean. I haven’t felt so anxious since my first debut on broadway.” You laughed softly, Dean smiling back. “They’re gonna love you. C’mon, sweetheart, would I lie to you?” Dean asked, raising a brow with a cheesy smile. You snorted, rolling your eyes playfully. “You’re ridiculous, Dean.” “Aw, c’mon! You have to be nice to me, we’re about to make out in front of hundreds of people, and my performance will be lacking if you’re bein’ mean.” Dean smirked. The thought send heat rushing to your cheeks, and you were grateful for once for the stage make-up you wore, which helped disguise your blushing. “Hey, if you’re still nervous, we can always practice.” Dean joked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You laughed loudly, and slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise from the crowd. “Shut up, Dean, I’m trying to be serious!” You reprimanded, unable to maintain a stern face when met with his goofy smile. “Yeah, but I got your mind off of it. You’re welcome.” He said proudly, bowing to you. “Okay, but for real, Y/N, you’re going to blow ‘em away. You’ve been working hard for this for, like, your whole life, and you’re gonna get on that stage and be the best fuckin’ Christine they’ve laid eyes on. I’m talkin’ angels weeping, melt-their-hearts, leave-them-speechless good.” Dean encouraged, hands on your shoulders comfortingly. You gave Dean a fond smile, and nodded. “Thanks, Dean. I really needed to hear that.” You said sincerely. “That’s what I’m here for, sweetheart. Dean Winchester, best pep talker ever, that’s me.” He winked, pulling you in for a side hug. “Go get ‘em, sweetheart.” Dean said warmly, kissing your cheek, and walking back to wardrobe. It was time.

                  You swore Dean was some manner of magician- when you sang your favourite song, you saw audience members in tears at your emotional performance, and when you kissed the Phantom before leaving with Raoul, you definitely heard sniffling and sobs. At the curtain call, as you all took your bows, your smile was so wide your cheeks were hurting, and you caught Dean’s bright green eyes and mouthed a ‘thank you’, to which he returned with a wink that said ‘told ya so’. The applause was deafening, and reaffirmed the meaning of your life in your eyes. Nothing fulfilled you the way standing ovations after such a show did, the gratitude making your own eyes brim with tears of happiness. 

                 You made it off the stage, and Dean picked you up and spun you around, both of you laughing. He pulled you into a crushing hug, and when he stepped back, you saw your smile mirrored on his handsome face. “You were amazing!” He praised. Your cheeks turned scarlet, and you beamed at him. “Me? You were amazing!” You retorted. Dean didn’t reply, but his grin grew, and he crashed his lips to yours. You barely had time to respond before he pulled away, looking like a child on Christmas Morning, giddy and excited. “Wha-?” You managed to get out. “I uh- is that ok? I think- no, I know, that I really like you.” Dean said shyly. “Thank God.” You breathed. You still couldn’t stop smiling as Dean kissed you, both of you laughing giddily in every breath.

                         You’d never been happier in your life.

TAGS-

@ibwhellowriting​

[imhereforbvcky]

Watch Me Run - Part 11

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage  -  Part 10 -  Part 12

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader) Chapter: You and Bucky settle into the safe house and set a plan B. Loki begins executing his next plans.

Warnings: probably swearing, angst of course

Word Count: 2124

A/N: Not gonna lie this one is a little slow. But they’re starting to trust each other, and care for each other a little more than just mission-mindedness.

“It’s uhm… cozy,” you nodded, looking around the tiny cabin.

The small wooden structure huddled quietly into the thick dark woods that surrounded it. Light was a resource out here, not a given, and the darkness that threatened to swallow you and Bucky both on the short walk from the rusted old pick-up truck to the creaking door of the cabin was felt very differently by each of you.

To Bucky it was safety, a blanket of natural protection that guarded you both from unwanted watchers and the danger still lurking in every corner. To you it was the danger, or at least the opportunity for it. Everywhere you couldn’t see was a place something deadly could hide. You hadn’t learned to use everything around you like Bucky had.

Sometimes, though, you could fool yourself out of fear with sarcasm.

“Very Grizzly Adams.”

Bucky grinned, shaking his head as he hauled his gear past you into a corner of the living space where a small wooden dining table stood, just big enough for two mismatched chairs.

“It’s functional,” he corrected.

“It can be both,” you shrugged. “Bit rustic, but the fireplace is nice, and all the cozy blankets. I bet it looks like a Thomas Kinkade painting after a good snow.”

“You don’t want to be here in the winter,” he chuckled.

The mere click, whoosh of unsnapping holsters and removal of his weapons was loud enough to fill the tiny space. The heavy clatter of the steel firearms and leather sheathed knives onto the wood tabletop was downright thunderous.

You didn’t argue, instead stepping further into the cabin, and slowly circling each area, taking it in. There was a large stone fireplace taking up one wall, surrounded by worn and sunken furniture. Behind the sofa stood the table where Bucky unloaded his modest personal armory. That “small” amount just about filled the room.

Behind Bucky stood minimal kitchen with an old porcelain sink, the kind that would run rusty water for a bit when you first turned the spout. A small wood-burning stove stood in the corner, dark and industrious. There was a refrigerator too, small with rounded edges, like it had been placed there in 1956 and left to rust. Orange streaks raced down from the metal handle, but it hummed loudly, proving its life. Maybe you’d been wrong about that old rusty truck being stolen. It seemed to fit right in.

On the opposite side of the cabin stood the sole bedroom, so tiny you wondered how any furniture had been moved into the tight space. No, surely the house had been built around the queen sized bed that reached within 2 feet of every wall. There was no other way.

“So where is ‘here’ anyway?” you asked, completing your spin.

“North.”

“Uh huh, uh huh. I gathered that when we got on the northbound freeway. But drove for hours. Can I get a little more than that?”

“It’s more than you need to know.” Bucky grumbled as he sunk down onto the undersized couch. Its tired springs and ancient frame groaned louder than he did.

“Really? I disagree.”

“You’re not going anywhere without me. So, yeah. It is.” He stretched out over the couch and crossed his arms over his chest, curling into as compact a shape as someone of his size could form on so diminutive a piece of furniture.

After the taxing beginning to this mission, the relief of his safe house sank through his entire body with tremendous weight. Need began to supersede want and civility. Starting a fire could wait. This conversation could wait. All he needed right now was sleep.

You had other ideas.

“Look, I just left everything that feels safe to me behind, all of it covered in blood.” Bucky slowly turned, reading every frantic expression as your voice rose in pitch and volume. “Every time I close my eyes a god from another world is destroying everyone and everything I touch. He is hunting me and I can’t run fast enough. I don’t know what these dark dreams mean but they are more than real and there is nothing I can do except sit in a truck and follow orders. So please!”

You blinked quickly, willing the fear and the grief you’d been swallowing for days back into the box that you kept far from the surface, far from where they were currently clawing up your throat and spilling at the edges of your eyes. Your gaze had remained on the floor as you spoke, but now it flickered to the calm grey of Bucky’s.

He only stared at you with an impassivity that was oddly comforting. Nothing could rattle him, nothing frightened him or chased him away. He was an immovable granite shelter in the icy storm that had begun to rage around you a week ago.

“Please, tell me something,” your voice had dropped to a whisper. “Anything so I can pretend that I still have a modicum of control over my own life.”

He nodded slowly. A quiet understanding and a silent agreement. Bucky understood control better than anybody. He perpetually worked to untangle the complex knot of both fearing and needing it.

“We’re in northern Canada. In a cabin on an unincorporated piece of land half an hour from a town you’ve never heard of.” His voice was even and low. This information was no more useful than what little you had before but it was something to think on at least. “Nobody’s heard of it. That’s the point. Nobody will find you here. You’re safe.”

You nodded quickly, shoving at tears with the heel of your hand.

“And in the impossible event someone does come, you remember what to do right?” He was sitting now, tired grey eyes soft but clear. He tugged on your wrists,demanding your focus, asking you to rehearse his instructions.

Another nod. “Yeah, um. The cellar door in the floor of the closet.”

“Mhmm.”

“There’s a key to the truck down there. Soon as it’s clear, I take it and run.”

“You get in that truck and you go. Anywhere but here.” He ducked a little to meet your eyes and found them little calmer, a little less frantic, but still wide and watery.

“What if I can’t?” you croaked. “Run, I mean. What happens to you when I leave you behind?”

“If it’s anyone but Loki: nothing happens. I’ll be fine; I’ll find you. And we’ll keep running. You and me,” he explained, smoothing his thumbs in light soothing sweeps over your skin. “But if it is him? You can’t wait to see what happens, you hear me? With that staff he’s got… I’m just as dangerous to you as I am useful. Best I can do is buy you time.”

You nodded, chewing your lip, apprehension in every bite. It made sense. It did. Loki was a well-trained combatant, with other-worldly strength and magic of which only legend told. It would take only one stumble, one missed shot, one tap of that sceptre, and Bucky your protector would become your hunter. The most prolific assassin in a century.

But the fact remained: you weren’t sure if you could. Leave Bucky to the hand of fate.

People like to think they’re logical, that they do things with thought and reason. But the truth i they are driven by instinct, by fear and learned responses, regardless of rationality. And you had learned as a very young child, curled up in the icy wreckage of a car waiting for rescue, watching the snow greedily seep the life from your family, that time is precious. People are precious. You don’t give up on them, and you don’t leave them to ruin in the cold.

He gave your arms another squeeze. “You’re not here to look after me. I’m protecting you. You’re my mission. Only time I’ve ever failed a mission was to save my best friend. Who was … also my mission.” He smirked slightly at the bittersweet memory. Just a hint of his lips ticking up at one corner. “I’ve got you, alright?”

Something between a chuckle and a sigh left you: relief. “Thanks.”

Carefully, you curled your hands to wrap around the underside of his forearms, holding onto him in return because in the end, whether either of you had chosen it, you were in this together now. He was all you had.

With a deep breath you let your fingers unfurl and felt his drift away, brushing over your skin. You missed it already, the comfort of his hold on you.

“I guess you weren’t kidding when you said ‘north,’ huh?” With arms wrapped tight around your stomach, fighting off a shiver, you glanced out the window.

“No,” he laughed, easing back onto the couch again.

“The Great White North.”

“It will be soon,” he promised.

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, eyes already drifting closed.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” A tired mumble spoken into the cushion.

“Who is looking out for you?”

He laughed at that. He didn’t mean to, but it burst out of him. The sort of laugh that comes only when the truth is too unpleasant to actually speak. And so instead, something cynical and dismissive had ripped forth instead.

“I’m serious,” you continued, your dangerously empathetic heart bleeding all over that lonely cabin, so obviously designed around stealth and escape and fear. “When’s the last time you got to be safe?”

A sigh would probably not suffice for an answer, he knew. “Wakanda. There was some time... I had a little place on the edge of the capital. Kept some goats, if you can believe it.” He chuckled at the memory. It seemed so far off now, so small in the timeline of his life, he almost questioned whether it was real.

“You weren’t there very long.”

“No,” he agreed. Not long enough. It never was. He’d become so tired of war, but it always found him. Drafted, then used mind and body alike, then drawn by guilt into whatever battles fell from the sky. This was his penance.

“Any other time?”

“I guess after SHIELD… HYDRA went down… that was running not fighting.”

“That doesn’t count,” you frowned, sitting on the floor beside the couch and curling your knees.”We’re running now and it’s anything but serene.”

“Then… Before the war, I guess.”

“The war…? As in, the World War?”

“Mhmm,” Bucky burrowed deeper into the couch. He was tired in so many ways. “Second one.”

“That’s… That’s like eighty years, Bucky!”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you want to rest? Don’t you need a break?”

“You tryin’ to get rid of me?” You could hear the smile in his voice

“No.” You chuckled and he liked that. Liked the sound of complete relief, not a single trace of the fear from moments ago.

“No, you’re right. I’m retiring,” he teased. “Should we go to the beach?”

“Yeah!”

“’Kay, right after this nap.”

Hardly a moment later Bucky drifted off to the last sound he expected to hear on mission: a giggle.

Loki had chosen his target well. Waiting, always waiting outside the Avengers Tower, he studied the flash of badges, learned their roles until he found just the right one. She was a loner, awkward and frustrated. He’d followed just twice to make sure.

Once: in disguise, to a bar where she sat at the edge of a group of complaining software engineers. It must be hard, he thought to himself, always working in the shadow of someone like Tony Stark. They were full of complaints, and hers were often spoken over.

He considered that she might help him out of spite, but reconsidered. Best not. The risk was too great. Fear would ever be a far greater motivator than irritation. Spite could run out, anger could diminish, could be soothed. Fear… fear could be reapplied time and again.

The second time, the woman had gone straight home. No happy hour today, no grumbling except to her cat.

He waited in the darkness until the house went still, and then waited more.

She woke to a cold sharp metal piont at her chest, like the tip of an ice cube. Except it wasn’t. In her startled haze, and the pitch black of her room, all she could make out was the shimmering blue orb.

Next she noticed the silver blade stretching down to the center of her chest and her eyes snapped wide.

Dark hair and a sneering face were her last memories before her eyes clouded with the same blue as the orb. A lone command echoing in her head choked out the protests, even the scream already scratching at her throat.

Find all possible safe houses.

Chapter 12 >>

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 3: The Birth of Mysterio

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Before we dive into specifics of Amazing Mary Jane, there is a large chunk of context we need to establish about Mysterio’s history. Specifically who he is and some of the crimes he’s committed over the years. I will generally be emphasising stuff that Mary Jane would likely or definitely be aware of; or at least could easily learn about with a little research. This is important to bear in mind when we look at MJ’s attitude to Beck in AMJ.

For starters, let’s consider how and why Beck ventured into a life of crime in the first place.

Life before Mysterio

Quentin Beck before he became a criminal had a college education to some extent and had major technical and chemical skills at his disposal. He became an accomplished special effects artists and stuntman and had regular employment. Long story short, he got bored and after failing to transition into acting (though he obviously had some acting talent) he was inspired to get involved with costume villainy.

Due to retcons in BND, it was established that he went back to work in Hollywood. However, he later got blacklisted when one of his effects injured someone. As originally presented and intended though, he basically turned to villainy out of boredom and frustration.

After being blacklisted Beck undertook his first major campaign against Spider-Man, whom (due to other retcons) he resented for foiling some of his crimes during his first foray into villainy.

Whether you look at him as originally presented or in the wake of all these retcons it’s clear that Beck didn’t get pushed into crime. It was a pure ego trip for him. Even with the retcon in mind realistically his skills and intelligence would garner him legitimate work elsewhere. In fact in the ‘Guardian Devil’ arc of Daredevil it’s established he was instrumental in developing certain technologies and processes that made advances in film making possible.

In short Quentin Beck became a criminal because he LIKED it. He is 100% not a tragic figure like the Lizard. He is not someone who’s environment made it difficult for him to be anything but a criminal, as is often the case for people in poverty stricken parts of the world. He wasn’t even someone like Doc Ock or Norman Osborn whose minds were (arguably) inadvertently affected by some kind of extenuating circumstance. Nor is he someone diagnosed with some kind of anti-social personality disorder like Cletus Kasady or Eddie Brock.

Regardless of whether you feel such mental conditions mitigate those villains, my point is Beck DEFINIETLY cannot be excused for his choice of becoming a criminal.

Virtually every crime he ever committed were the actions of a sane, rationale and intelligent person who happened to also be selfish, egotistical, greedy and often nasty. Maybe not nasty the way Carnage or the Green Goblin are, but nasty nevertheless.

I’m saying he’s not just ‘a villain’ but also an outright bad person.

And he’s been a bad person since basically the start of Spider-Man’s superhero career. That’s anywhere from 10-25 years, depending upon whose math you want to use.

The 1960s: Making an Entrance

Were we to take retcons into account, Mysterio’s first crime was his involvement with the Tinkerer way back in ASM #2, circa 1964! This was literally the fifth ever Spider-Man story to be created.

However, retcons not  withstanding Mysterio’s first major crime was impersonating and framing Spider-Man, back in ASM #13.

He then went on to bill himself as a hero and defeated Spider-Man.

These events were a huge news story at the time and thus it’s not unbelievable that MJ would know about them via osmosis. Granted, there is leeway on that because MJ was not living in NYC at this time but she was making sporadic trips there and had taken a casual interest in Spider-Man’s adventures; this was partially because she knew Peter was Spider-Man.

However, one would imagine that it’d likely come up in conversation with Peter over the years given how this was his first (known) encounter with Mysterio and MJ was present for several consequent ones. It’d also be believable given that it’s just common sense for Peter to inform MJ of any enemies who could possibly impersonate him. Forewarned is forearmed (as arguably Gwen’s death proved) so knowing about Mysterio could help MJ ensure the safety of herself and her loved ones; for example MJ’s Aunt Anna and cousin Kristy.

Furthermore it is important to note that Mysterio’s very first major solo effort was a form of identity theft (there is probably a more accurate descriptor but I don’t know of one). The crime was intentionally designed so that he could build up his own reputation off the back of someone else’s.  Does this perhaps remind you of another time Mysterio might’ve tried to selfishly benefit at the expense of another person’s reputation, not caring if he damaged it along the way? Like for example any female-led comic books released in 2019 for example?

The next time Mysterio duelled Spidey he used highly convincing robot duplicates of the (3 of the original 5) X-Men.

So, Mysterio is an expert in robotics and can create loyal and dangerous robotic servants. These robots can also trick people into thinking they are a real person, including Mysterio himself. Thus it’s very possible for Beck to convince someone he’s in one place when he’s actually in another, or alternatively get his robots to do something on his behalf when he’s otherwise indisposed.

Mary Jane 100% knows about these robot duplicates because versions of them (plus Iceman and Jean Grey) appear in Amazing Mary Jane #1.

It would suuuuuuuuure be illogical for MJ to just presume Mysterio would definitely NEVER misuse such robots for any nefarious schemes, or use them to slip under the noses of the press monitoring the movie. Or if he or his crew maybe used them to violate/evade justice somehow…

Also, just for the record, Mysterio was potentially risking damaging the reputation of the X-Men/mutants in general by creating duplicates of them. Yet another example of Mysterio is selfishly cavalier with someone else’s reputation.

Arguably (because I’m not an X-Men expert) this was especially awful because of how the general public already hated and feared mutants, who were of course chiefly allegorical to African Americans back in the 1960s. In this sense Mysterio could be viewed as exploiting societal bigotry or at least caring so little about it he doesn’t realise he’s potentially going to make it far worse. *

Mysterio’s third major encounter with Spidey was in a lot of ways one of his most twisted efforts.

His plan was to learn Spider-Man’s identity by convincing him that he was mentally ill…yeah…

Posing as psychiatrist Doctor Ludwig Rinehart, he convinced Jameson to publish an article claiming Spider-Man was heading for a major mental breakdown. 

To make this more convincing he used his illusions to make Spider-Man believe he was seeing things that weren’t really there. His efforts bore fruit as Peter genuinely began to doubt his own sanity.

Beck’s endgame was for Spider-Man to seek out treatment from ‘Rinehart’ and in his vulnerable state divulge his secret identity. It was only through Jameson’s inadvertent intervention that Peter’s secret (and loved ones) remained safe.

I’m not suggesting Mary Jane necessarily knows about this incident; though it’s possible Peter told her. It’s more relevant because it illustrates what a twisted person  Mysterio is to try and get to Spider-Man in such a way. It also illustrates the distress his illusionary skills can cause to people, both mentally and emotionally. This is a fact that Mary Jane need not have studied psychology to grasp; it’s just common sense. She knows Mysterio’s M.O. is tricking people into believing things that aren’t real and she’d know how believing something uncomfortable or frightening (even if it isn’t real) can be a dangerous and unhealthy thing. Her friend Harry Osborn had mental health problems that caused him to believe things that weren’t true and (for a time anyway) it destroyed him and harmed his family.

If you still think this is a concept MJ wouldn’t have grasped, then Mysterio’s next exploit would’ve likely convinced her.

During the course of Webspinners: Tales of Spider-Man #1-2 Mysterio intentionally attacked the mind of MJ’s acquaintance J. Jonah Jameson. He did this by tricking Jonah into believing he’d been killed and gone to Hell. Simultaneously he also framed Spidey for Jameson’s alleged murder.

Events from this story formed part of the screenplay for Mysterio’s biopic. Proof of this can be found in ASM v5 #29 wherein Peter and MJ are rehearsing Mysterio’s script and the dialogue is almost verbatim from the Webspinners story in question.

As such it is very possible that MJ would know about what Beck did to Jameson. One would imagine Peter would at least tell her about that in the course of rehearsing with her.

We are skipping ahead a bit, but another instance of Mysterio using his illusions to cause terror can be found in ASM #66. In the issue he hijacks TV airwaves and essentially delivers a terrorist message to the city at large. He depicts scenes of New York decimated and threatens to make them a reality unless Spidey confronts him. The incident upsets Aunt May (a woman with an underlying heart condition) and realistically would’ve distressed other people too. This might’ve included MJ’s Aunt Anna who was living with May at the time.

Given the public nature of this broadcast and the distress it caused Aunt Anna’s roommate, the chances are MJ would be aware of it. Even if she failed to catch it initially she’d have heard about it via sheer osmosis.

Even if you disagree, it’s yet another example of Mysterio selfishly and callously causing distress to people for his own ends. If one buys into Marvel’s sliding timescale these events also pack more of a punch since they would've happened post 9/11.

The 1970s: Scamming Seniors

We’re skipping ahead again all the way into the 1970s.

In ASM #141 Betty Brant and Ned Leeds inform Peter that Mysterio died a year earlier in prison. This horrifies Peter because he fought Mysterio earlier that very night.

This was public knowledge meaning there is a chance MJ would’ve heard about it in the news. But even if it wasn’t widely reported or if she just missed it, she’d have still likely heard about it. After all she was dating Peter at the time and was also very friendly with Betty (even serving as her Maid of Honour not too long after this). This is important to remember for the next section.

As it turns out he actually battled a new Mysterio, Danny Berkhart. Berkhart believed himself Beck’s friend and inherited some of his equipment after the latter’s death. He decided to take down Spider-Man out of respect for Beck.**

Much later it was revealed that Beck hadn’t really died, he’d merely used Berkhart to fake his own death. In the guise of Doctor Reinhardt he took over a nursing home. Consequently he swindled vulnerable elderly people out of their life savings, amassing almost $8 million. According to this inflation calculator, in 2019 that’d be about $40,780,313.20.

My, what a sympathetic individual…

This scheme snowballed into Beck faking Aunt May’s death on behalf of the burglar who killed Uncle Ben.

To be fair to him, The Burglar was threatening his life. However given Mysterio’s technology and intelligence it’s highly unbelievable that he couldn’t have taken the Burglar down if he wanted to. He does exactly this in ASM #198 once he’s learned the Burglar was after a fortune hidden in Aunt May’s old home, opting to seek out the fortune himself (see above).

It goes without saying how devastating it was for Peter and May’s friends (chiefly Aunt Anna) to believe she’d passed away.

It beguiles belief that, between MJ’s closeness to Peter, their mutual friends (like Harry and Flash), Aunt May and Aunt Anna, that MJ wouldn’t at some point have learned about May’s ‘death’. By extension she would’ve learned of the circumstances of it being faked and surely have been at least miffed about it! Thus she’d have deduced that Beck had faked his death, as she’d likely have heard about his alleged death in prison.

Even if MJ didn’t hear about any of this during the incident itself, considering that this was all a matter of public record and would’ve been reflected in May’s medical history MJ realistically would have learned about this at some point. This would especially be the case because May’s death was faked a further two times; and that was when MJ married to Peter.

After all, if it was public record that May’s death had been faked before then her consequent ‘death’ (it was actually an imposter) in ASM #400 would require a degree of verification that’d go beyond most patients.*** And it’s highly unlikely that Peter and MJ wouldn’t have been informed about this process. ; or that they themselves didn’t inform the doctors that they should triple check given May’s history. This is literally the reason the actress impersonating her in ASM #400 was specified as being ‘genetically altered’ so her DNA would read as Aunt May’s.

All this means that there is simply NO WAY MJ wouldn’t know Mysterio caused this kind of harm to two of the people she loved most in the world (Peter and May).

The 1980s: Old Tricks

We skip ahead again all the way into the 2010s, albeit an untold tale set circa the 1980s. In Symbiote Spider-Man #1 Mysterio’s attempts to rob a bank inadvertently led to an innocent woman (with kids no less) being shot and killed.

Now to be fair, this wasn’t intentional and he felt bad about it. But it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t committed a crime in the first place. He also wasn’t exactly turning himself in due to remorse or giving up a life of crime. MJ might not have known about this but it’s the first time (to my recollection) Beck was involved with someone actually dying. So you know, he’s definitely a killer and is unwilling to face the consequences of his crime. Real sympathetic right?

I will admit this is something of a contentious example as this series doesn’t exactly fit into continuity and so could be arguably discounted. Nevertheless it definitely offers food for thought. An insight into how Mysterio likely would  act under these circumstances.

Jumping back to the 1980s proper, in a much later encounter with Spidey Mysterio once again attacked Peter’s mind. This time he tricked him into believing that an innocent person had died on his watch.

MJ again definitely knew about this because a guilt-ridden Peter talked to her about it before he learned the truth. Later she tried to talk him out of his guilt ridden state.

I think I will leave it there for now. We’ll continue our look at Mysterio in the next post as we enter the 21st century.

*I’ve got no place for this in future instalments so I’ll just say put it here as an aside.

MJ to my recollection has no experience with the X-Men (sans Wolverine), but she is definitely no anti-mutant bigot. Wouldn’t it be logical for her to be wary or at least conscious about how Beck is playing with the optics of the X-Men/mutants in general in his vanity project?

Not to mention their inclusion I’d imagine would be in reference to ASM Annual #1 where he tried to use them to kill her boyfriend.  She has no qualms about the guy responsible for that recreating that event on film in an effort to glorify him self?

On the other hand we don’t know exactly how they are being used in the movie so I’ll let that slide.

**Berkhart isn’t all that relevant at the moment but he will be in the next instalment, so bear him in mind.

***Alternatively one would imagine in a world where the fantastical is a matter of fact, death would be checked to a greater degree than practiced in real life.

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[planetary-bound-star]

Isolation Journal: Day 1

So I found these prompts today for an Isolation Journal / ways to stay creative despite stress and anxiety.  And while I wouldn't say that I've felt isolated in a 'feeling lonely' or 'wanting to be around people' sort of way, I have been feeling the effects of my partner's isolation and of the fact that there aren't many ways to have true alone time to recharge my social batteries.  Having constantly half-empty social batteries happens to really hamper my creativity, especially when I'm in the same room with someone else, knowing that at any moment they're likely to intrude on whatever thought I'm trying to communicate through my stories.  I've tried going into different rooms -- and sometimes that even works -- but given the fact that the other humans in the house are awake and exist, I can't get completely comfortable in my creative space unless they're asleep.  

So I've been struggling to motivate myself to create, to finish homework assignments, to do more than the most basic chores and / or acts of self-care, etc, which only adds to my anxiety and depressive tendencies.  I've tried setting a strict routine, which worked for a few days max.  I've tried setting a very loose routine, which worked for a bit longer, but ultimately didn't long-term.  I've tried no routine, and that DEFINITELY doesn't work, and while writing a to-do list first thing in the morning can help, I have to remember to do that every day BEFORE I get distracted by other things and / or my partner and our other housemates, which is rare at best.  

Really, I'm ready to try anything, right now.  And this seems like a good idea at the best of times.  So I'm going to attempt this challenge.  Luckily, it seems pretty relaxed, so if I miss a day, it's not like I miss the prompt or have to start over or anything, which should help especially in a 'not adding to my anxiety pile' sort of way, and it is likely to also add significantly to my overall daily mental health!  So... that'd be a definite plus.  

So!  Here goes:  Day 1 [Prompt: Write a Letter to a Stranger]

Dear Seth and Stephen,

I've been watching you both for comfort since before the Florida Orange Man took office, and likely will long after he leaves (I hope).  I can't remember when I first took note of you.  I know that with you, Seth, it happened not long after the 2016 Elections, when YouTube offered me the lifeline of suggesting one of your A Closer Look or The Check-In segments, and I subscribed the same night.  With you, Stephen, I first noticed you during your The Werd segments from the Daily Show with Jon Stewart.  I noticed you initially when I was a young Republican teen still living at home with my Papa, and I found you again as a newly emerging, bleeding-heart Democrat.  

Now, you're both a huge part of the intricate net of lifelines that keep me afloat day-to-day in this completely bonkers world.  

When I first imagined spending my days working from my home as a writer, I imagined waking up each day to a warm cup of tea, some hot cereal or oatmeal or fried eggs, and some toast.  I never considered who would make those things or how I might teach myself the focus and rigorous morning routine needed to do all of that without wasting hours of my day due to distractions, derailments, and depletions of energy.  

In my mind, this morning routine would take place on a patio or deck or balcony, outside on a warm and sunny, but not too overwhelmingly bright day, a light breeze keeping the worst of the sun's heat from burying itself in your skin and clothing.  The outdoor space would be surrounded by greenery and flowers and walls, any human-made sounds (aside from maybe a fountain or, possibly, wind-chimes) would be silenced somehow.  

Then, after breakfast (again, clean-up energy and time never entered into my imagination before now), I would retreat to a comfortable, cushioned window-seat, warmed by the sunlight streaming through the windows, reclining, and spending several hours a day reading through entire novels and, thus, getting through them in a few days to, at most, a week.  

Finally, after my reading time ends (at a decent, if not perfect, stopping point in the novel, if at all possible so that the story isn't nagging at the back of your mind the rest of the day), I would move to my writing space to... you guessed it... write for many more hours.  

Granted, the writing bit should probably take place after a lunch of some description and / or many (ideally healthy) snacks at hand, but I never imagined these details either in my initial plans.  Nor did I factor in dinner.  I do love food when I have the time to enjoy it, but given my schedule and levels of focus on the regular, I'd genuinely be happy to go to an all liquid diet with only quick and nommy solid foods to snack on here and there.  I loathe the necessity of eating, so I keep it as nommy as possible to force myself to fuel my body in a mostly appropriate manner.  It's only natural that I'd forget about this irritating necessity in my daydreams, really.  They are, after all dayDREAMS, not dayREAL-LIFES.  

I feel like that's how I'd like to end every day, come to think on it:  Writing.  Typing frantically into a word-processor to transport the pictures in my mind on the ship of words until the images dry out and evaporate in the sun, or the words dry up on the tips of my fingers.  I want to write for hours, take a break for necessities (like dinner and dog-walking and spending time with loved ones), then write for hours more... until I can write no more and my pillows start tempting my brain.  I want to write until I pass out every night, then get up the next day and do all of it all over again.  

Lately, I've imagined a small, one-room Hobbit-hole constructed in the hill behind Sam's house.  A soundproof structure partially underground with a window-seat for reading, a space for writing, and another space for singing and playing and making a lot of noise without worry of being a nuisance to any neighboors or family members, but also without them interrupting my thought or creative processes while I'm working.  Maybe that space is just a creative space large enough to transition for sewing, painting, drawing, writing, singing, playing, and, even, rehearsing, but small enough to feel safely enclosed, like a shed or... a fucking Hobbithole.  ;P  

I think it can be done, and maybe with the money I make from my first sold artistic project, I can attempt to make it a reality.  And I feel you're both nerdy enough to understand how awesome a reality that would be!  

I just want a space that doesn't give me any excuses not to create and the space to just spend time creating.  And yet... here I am, home all day with nowhere to be, and I'm not creating.  I have a myriad excuses for it all, and I will also say (to be kind and fair with myself) that my mental health has been tricky to navigate throughout all of this.  

But these excuses are allowing me to escape creating and doing... pretty much anything that brings me joy.  Essentially, the whole reason I quit full-time work and decided to go through the stress and uncertainty of putting myself through college is the one thing I'm not using my suddenly AMPLE HOME TIME doing.  

And I'd very much like to change that.  

So here I am... writing this letter.  Telling you random things that are on my mind.  Knowing... (hoping?)... that neither of you will EVER read this.  Right?  Maybe, after all of the other prompts are finished or whatever, I'll continue writing to you both about my day and my struggles and my projects.  Because why the hell not?  You're both already like the nerdy, understanding, choice-affirming fathers I never had?  

My papa wasn't bad, he was just a stereotypical dad, who expected his kids to be tough all the time, couldn't deal with emotions, and watched football with a beer in his hand yelling at the tv on Sundays.  He didn't understand the proclivity to read all day or write well or watch shows on sociology and scientific experimentation.  He didn't understand much of anything that wasn't 'working on a career' or 'sport-related current events.'  He definitely didn't understand how to deal with a child who moved away from home, started learning about the world intellectually and largely unbiasedly for the first time, and developed views and opinions of their own, for themself, after seeing how the world really worked with their own eyes.  

So I see you, my two tv dads, as the parent he's unlikely to ever be... and it helps me to know there are dads like you out there, even if parts of it are shows put on for your audiences.  And I do hope to meet you both one day, as one of your guests, and (if we can ever hug again) give you both hugs to thank you for helping to raise me, keep me informed, and prepare me to survive the batshit, bonkers world that currently exists around us all.  

My best to you both and to your families,

Me

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Dancing Lessons

Barry Berkman x reader

Summary: Barry is finally cast in a feature, the problem? He said he could dance and now he can either disappoint Sally or found a way to learn some steps.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence, guns, cheating, drinking.

Part 1 ● Part 2 ● Part 3 ● Part 4 ● 

Part 5 ● Part 6 ● Part 7 ● Part 8 ● Epilogue

Part 8

NoHo Hank was already in they warehouse that the other bald man drive him to, he looked a hit more pale than usual, but he still had a bright smile on his face, and if it was possible it grew even more once he saw him enter the building.

"Oh Barry, I thought Anzor will have to bring you by force here" He said and as always having an exaggerated hospitality considering the large weapons his men were carrying and the desolate place they were in, and specially since Anzor had already tied his hands together an sit him on a chair in front of Hank "Well I'm sure Fuches told you, we had an offer for you, and I want to be clear, I am more than willing to negotiate, but Batir is more of a "Do it or else" kind of guy, so what do you expect from this little exchange?" He said like this was a normal job interview, and maybe his annoying attitude made him came out of the trance and realize this was a bad idea.

"I won't kill for you anymore Hank" He said, but the pale man ignored him, or pretend he didn't listen "I came here because Fuches ask me too, but I'm no going to become your henchmen, I'm no longer killing for a living" And then because he was actually not to convince to fight for his life he add "So if you want to kill me do it for once, this is your best chance" he said and rise his tied hands

"Oh relax, who said anything about a henchman? We are no longer that kind of business" Hank said and with a hand order his men to walk out, then he let him lose, so he start rubbing his wrists.

"And the Chechen mob just want to hire me as what? An accountant?" He said bitterly. "What kind of business are you now then?"

"Batir is expanding our portfolio of business, and well sometimes acquiring new companies takes a little of persuasion, you would understand that people don't feel comfortable with guys like Anzor doing the negotiation, a gorgeous tall man with piercing blue eyes like you could come in handy to us"

"That sounds a lot like being a henchman, also what if I said yes? I am going to bully every company owner in LA for you and Batir, and then what? When I'm no use for you anymore you will shoot me? I don't think so" He said, desperately trying to figure out an escape plan.

"Oh but that's were you are wrong Barry, we don't want to hire you to be part of our organization, this is more a freelance situation" He said and smile widely since Barry was now perplex and silent. "We have a problem with a little oil company that thought they could found a wide benefactor in Texas so they will protect them from Batir, you must understand how disrespectful that is, so we want you to go a and make their lawyers to back on that idea and come back to us, after all you have greatly offended us, however if you do this your debt will be completely erased" he said and let him a couple minutes to think.

"How am I supposed to convince them?" He asked finally.

"Well you can just look at them with those puppies" he said pointing at his eyes "And if that doesn't work I'm sure you can figure something out, in the end if something happens to them I'm sure their boss will understand the message"

"How many?" He answered, and even when he haven't agree yet he could feel the adrenaline run trough his veins.

"Two guys, semi rich, but pretty unknown guys" he said unable to hide his excitement.

"And we are clear?"

"And we are clear" He said delighted "After Fuches little charade with the Burmeses, Batir thinks you are better away from us, but he will spare your life for a favor, specially a big one like this one, and if it comes to the worst case scenario for them he will also pay you for your service.

"It must be a big company if they are willing to forgive everything just for two guys" Barry said and Hanks let out a little laugh that made him realize there was something else going on there.

"Isn't it funny? This is how we met, and how we said goodbye too" he started "One of the guys used to work for us, but then he starts getting ideas of how to get ahead of Batir and he start giving advice to companies to go with our competition for a price obviously and then Batir found out he has been dating one of his niece's for like a year, like any other straight guy, right? Why do you have to be so toxic? Anyway, he wants him dead, and he is convinced that is you could do an exceptional job as you did in the monastery you can eliminate him" He handed him a folder but before he could open it a moment of clearness came to his head.

"Why me?"

"Well because you can handle a gun like anybody and are the best cold blooded killer of course" He said with no hesitation.

"Hank, you know what I mean, why do you want me to kill this man specifically, and why now?" He said with his hands trembling while he opened the folder.

"Batir found out he was dating Monique while we were following you" He started, serious for the first time in their exchange "Crazy coincidence huh? Anyway it could be of use to your lady friend, the guy is an asshole, not like Monique is any good either, but you know Batir, it took some convincing him to give this work to you, otherwise he will send our guys to deal with him, and you know how stupid these guys are, there could be collateral damage" he said and he could see the anger on his face as he look the pictures of Alan coming out of Y/N studio.

"I'll do it, I want half in advance" he said finally, and the dark look on his eyes was enough for Hank to not prevent him to leave "She needs to stay out of this, you know that right? I will kill you myself if she knows, understood? " He said before he walked out.

"Loud and clear"

Once he was alone in his car and away from the look of Hank's men he did the only logical thing he could think off and he start screaming, and loudly banging his hands against his head, he had swear to stop this, no more blood in his hands, but Hank was right, there would be collateral damage otherwise, and if doing nothing meant having her blood on his hands he rather take his gun out again.

The next morning a duffel bag with 15 thousand dollars masterly appeared at his door, thankfully before his roommates could see it, and he spent the next three days using his rehearsals to calculate Alan movements out of the studio. And he concluded that his best chance was early in the morning when he leave his house to go to his "office"

"So tomorrow is the big day" her voice said once he was resting after a particular hard session with Macy, but since his mind was on her husband he didn't saw her approach him.

"How do you know?" He asked alarmed, but he immediately realized she couldn't possibly know.

"Well you told us that your big recording of the dance is tomorrow, that's why Macy is making you do this all extra work isn't it?" She said a bit scared of his tone, maybe fearful that they were not supposed to talk yet.

"Oh that, sure, I'm just a bit worried about it I'm sorry" He said and finally a good idea came to his head. "Actually it would mean a lot of you could be there, you can tell Janice to stop acting out and teach a thing or two to my coordinator" he improvise a smile and she take it as a good sign because she smiled back.

"I would love too, what time?"

"Well I have to be there at 10, but you should go early like at 8 and see the studio, I'll text Sophie so she will give you a pass" he said knowing that Alan leave the house exactly at 8:30.

"Are you sure you want me there? I mean maybe you'll get more moral support from your..."

"I'm sure my ex girlfriend is busy tomorrow" He cut her mid sentence and for a brief moment that doesn't have to do with murder he enjoy the little smile that curve on her lips at the word ex

"In that case I think I can be your cheerleader for a day" She said but then she took a guilty look at her wedding ring and her smile disappeared "I'll see you tomorrow I guess"

He had a sleepless night, he took his gun out and cleaned, then he reviewed his plan over and over again, trying to think of a way out of this, he would kill Alan and broke Y/N heart because his nexus with the Chechens will be clear after his dead and he will be finally free, and in a couple months he and Sally will be happy, that was it right? She may be ashamed for his husband but she will be alive...

He could obviously spare his life, convince him to go away, in that case how long before Batir found out?, how long before he killed him... but she will be safe, with both men away from her... Because it was clear to him that spare Alan's life meant his own death sentence, maybe months later, but eventually, but if he was now without Sally, without Y/N, even without Fuches, what was the point?

He finally took a decision and put both the gun and the money in his backpack and fall asleep at 3 in the morning. Making his last thoughts to be of her, waiting in the studio to cheer him on his big scene.

When the sun rise over LA next morning he was drinking a hot cup of bad coffee, looking in the distance how she exit her house at 7:30, she looked prettier than in his dreams, he could have swear that she was carrying her white seetrough dancing skirts on her bag, ready to teach Janice a lesson, and his heart ached, he could not do it anymore.

Suddenly he felt the urge to confess, so he called her, begging the heavens for her to pick up, she would hate him, but she would be safe.

The phone ring... once, twice, it went to voicemail after the fourth. He was about to hang up, but suddenly he found himself talking, he didn't confess... not to his crime at least, but he was now certain that herr life and stability were more important, and sure that he will no longer see her again.

At exactly 8:30 Alan left the studio, he walk to his car that he parked a little far from the entrance, so he didn't saw the man wearing a hoodie and a baseball hat approach him, and there was so little people on the street that nobody else did.

"Keep walking asshole" and angry voice, oddly familiar, said and put what without a doubt was a gun on his back.

"Take my wallet and my phone man, that's all I got on me" he said with a nervous voice "Here my car keys, is that one there, is new" He said now more like a plea.

"I don't care about your fucking money, keep walking" he said and put him closer to him, it almost look like two friends walking, nothing suspicious about them, finally after a couple blocks he made him walk towards an alley and finally made him face him, he took off the hoodie and the cap.

He looked surprised at first, maybe a little less frightened, but the gun on his hand was a very real threat.

"I don't understand" he started "what do you want?"

"Do you know a man named Batir?" Barry asked with a dry growl, enough to make him silent.

"No, what are you talking about?" He lied nervously.

"It will be on your best interest to don't lie, I will ask one more time, do you know who Batir is?" He said putting the gun between his eyes.

"Ok, I do, I may have work with him a couple times, but I'm clean now ok?"

"Don't piss your pants dude, one more question, why did you think it was a good idea to screw his niece?" Barry said and Alan's brain seemed to finally connect the dots.

"This is about her? I'm no longer with her, we broke up, after you saw me with Y/N, I swear" He said, and the mention of her name make him loose his guard for a moment, something that Alan notice. "Listen I love my wife ok? You don't have to do this, I already got a better job offer in Texas, I will leave and Batir can keep harassing small companies, if he want the merge gone is gone ok? I don't care about the money, it was all my associate Tom's idea."

"You really like to snitch right?" Barry said exasperated "Turn around" Tear started running on Alan's face, and all hope abandoned his body "TURN AROUND NOW!!" He screamed.

He obeyed shaking and face the wall, and maybe without the fury of Barry's eyes looking at him he managed to think with clarity.

"Think of her" he said and even when he didn't saw him he felt his respiration change and saw his hand an the gun shake on the corner of his eye. "I know you are her friend, she told me everything last night because I saw you leaving the studio in the afternoon." He explained quickly and since he didn't fired he continued "You must care about her since you didn't told her what you knew about me, your a decent guy Barry, don't do this, I promise I will leave..."

***

"Y/N? Damn it's your voicemail, anyway I'm calling because... actually I don't know why I'm calling, I'm going to see you later right? , I was thinking maybe we should go eat after... You know what? The truth is... that I think, I don't know maybe if things were different, maybe I would have asked you out, but you are married and I can't change that, but at least I wanted to say that I'm glad that I met you, thank you for being there... I'll see you soon"

It was already 9:45, and he hasn't showed up yet, but you had made a full tour of the studio with Sophie and she even let you give notes to Janice, since apparently she have saw you dance in NY years before, but for a moment an odd feeling invaded your heart, the message had no sense but it felt like a goodbye.

Something completely stupid of course since he had no reason to say goodbye, but you did. You had confess to Alan about your adolescent crush, and after a long talk you had decided to try again, even when you were sure it was impossible. But it wasn't fair on your side to drag Barry into that mess, he was a good man after all.

***

The sudden sound of something hitting the ground scared him, but it was just a backpack.

"Pick it!" He said and he obeyed "There are 10 thousand dollars there, I'm sure a smart guy like you can find a way to survive somewhere else with that, you will leave and never comeback ok? No contact with Y/N or any girlfriend, no family. Nothing" He said angrily.

"Of course, thank you, I swear you won't see me again" he said frantically.

"Give your phone and your wallet, and your car keys" Alan do as told quickly now with his breathing regulated. Barry was about to start walking away from him, when he could saw him smile sardonically. "What is so funny?"

"The fact that I knew sleeping with Monique was wrong and I panicked when you saw me with my wife, but I never thought that it could save my life" He said and maybe the nod Barry gave him encouraged him to keep talking. "At least now you can be with her, and I don't intend to come back and ruin your future happiness by her side."

"What?"

"Y/N, last night she was so helpless telling me how sorry she was about her little crush on you. That's how I know you are a man of honor, you had dirt on my, and you like my wife, yet you didn't told her."

"Is not about honor, not like you would understand it" he said suddenly getting angry at him.

"Yeah yeah, everyone has an agenda Berkman, and everyone can be bought, maybe not all with money, like in this case"

"What do you mean?" He said with a calm that hide his anger from Alan.

"Well I bought my life from you and ten thousand dollars in exchange of my silence and my blissful ignorant wife, who appears to be to decent to cheat on me, maybe you'll have to work a little there for her to take you, but don't worry I won't come back"

"No, you won't"

[bapyess1r]

Amphetamine

WARNINGS: cursing, age difference, fluff, angst

CHAPTER 9

Talia’s POV

“Tali… look at me.” He said as I spun around in the passenger seat of his boat. I avoided his gaze when he approached me. He stood between my legs and cupped my face with his large hands. “Baby, I-”

“I know… And I understand…. Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.” I replied. I stared at the water a while before getting the courage to look him in the eyes. They shone rather brightly from the sun. He shot me a smile so handsome it made my heart wrench.

“You have so much here to keep yourself busy until I get back. You have the band at your disposal, you have classes to teach, you’ll have the keys to the house so you can use the punching bag in the backyard if you ever want to hit something…” he began to list all of the things to keep me busy and I took a deep breath to keep myself from crying. “I’ll be back before you know it. It’ll be like I never even left.” He said. I sighed, resting my hands on his wrists as he pulled my head to his.

“How long is this one?” I asked, nonchalantly.

“Two weeks at best. And if anything changes, you’ll be the first to know. Okay, sweetheart?” He said slowly, kissing my lips and then my temple. “Now let’s enjoy the rest of the day, hm?”

I remembered that day. Sam had gotten a call from his pal Chloe. I never met her but I remembered her from his stories. They were on a job in India. He agreed to do some recon and be her decoy for her in her search for Ganesh’s Tusk. When he told me about it, I couldn’t even imagine how a journey like that would go. I figured it had to be the most adrenaline fueling thing. I couldn’t wait until Sam would tell me I was ready to accompany him but I also didn’t want to die so I would stay behind and train my hardest until that day.

I had woken up earlier than usual. It was 7:00 am. We would usually jog around this time. The sun had barely come up yet so I put on my jogging gear and threw my hair up in a ponytail. I readied my iPod for running music when I noticed my Godfather sitting at the kitchen table, tapping away at his laptop. He smiled at me and I approached him with a hand on his shoulder. “You’re up early, Goddaughter.” He said placing his warm hand over mine.

“Usually am. Sam and I go running around this time. Just because he’s gone that doesn’t stop me.” I said with a slight frown, patting his shoulder. I leaned on the side of the table as we continued to chat.

“You’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately.” He said, continuing to write his report. I hadn’t really told my Godparents I had been seeing Sam in the romantic way. Not that I didn’t want to, it just never crossed my mind to tell when things got serious.

“Uh… yeah.” Was all I could muster.

“I hope he’s treating you right.” He said suddenly, surprising me. “I’ll kill him if he doesn’t.”

“You knew?” I laughed nervously.

“I’m on the force for a reason, Talia Alyssa. Just like I know you’re trying to train to go with him on his next job.” He told me, his eyes never leaving the screen. “I can’t say I’m too happy about it.”

“Well it’s not for you to decide. Matter of fact, I don’t think it’s any of your business-” I mumbled, fidgeting with the tangled earbuds in my hands.

“So what do you expect me to tell Dave and Delores if anything happens to you?” He said, glancing at me a moment. I flinched at the mention of my parents. “‘Oh uh hey Dave, your daughter- my Goddaughter is out traipsing the globe with an ex-convict, want me to tell her to send you a postcard?!’-”

“It’s too early for this bullshit…” I chuckled, shaking my head in an annoyed fashion as he tried to pick a fight. He was always like this. I was the apple of his eye until I did something he didn’t approve of. Then he’d berate me into years. He always knew just what to say to blow my mood. I tucked my earbuds and started to head for the door.

“We’re gonna have to talk about this some time, Talia!” He said running his fingers through his short sandy blonde hair.

“Yeah- well it doesn’t have to be now.” I said numbly, raising the volume on my music as I walked out the door. With that, I began to run.

I pushed myself during my morning workout, all the way to the hill where Sam and I would stop to watch the sunset. My Godfather had found a way to work my nerves again and I laid out on the grass to call the one who could soothe my restless mind. My mother. The phone rang and rang for a while. It was still early so she could’ve been sleeping still. But when she finally answered, I almost wanted to cry. “Mommy…” I choked. Hot tears ran down the sides of my face, mixing in with the sweat. I sobbed softly on my end.

“He did it again, huh?” I heard her sigh in annoyance. “I’m gonna have a talk with him because he’s been doing this far too often and I'm not okay with that.” She rambled. “What did he get all pissy about this time?”

“I fell for an older man and now I’m suddenly training to travel the world.” I blurted. I was afraid of how she’d react.

“How old is he?”

“42…” I mumbled.

“That’s not… awful. It’s a little older than I’d like but you’re approaching 30 in a few short years-”

“My thoughts exactly. And he’s ridiculously handsome and funny. And he’s so smart… he’s a historian slash….collector of antiquities….” I began to gush about him to her.

“A historian? Wow! Your tastes have certainly changed.”

“He’s not like the stuffy kind though. He’s… different… And I’m learning a lot really! He specializes in Pirates...”

“Well that’s good! And you’re traveling the world now?” She asked, sounding impressed.

“Not yet but I’m training for it…”

“You have to train to get on a airplane?” She asked and I chuckled. My mom was adorable.

“No, mama. His work requires a lot of scaling and… hiking…” I lied. I knew if I told her about the guns and such she’d disapprove. And I’d never hear the end of it. “I like to say I’m dating Indiana Jones.” I smirked. Just as I stood up to go home, the sun rose above the clouds, painting the skies orange and pink as I heard her positive laughter on the other end.

“Oh lord… When do you get to go?”

“When he declares me ready enough. He’s away on a job right now so I’m doing solo training in the meantime…” I began to start down hill.

“Where do you think you’ll go?” She asked me as I decided to walk home instead of run, to spend time on the phone with my mom. I told her everything about him. Laid it all out on the table. Even about his jail time. The short brief version that Sam had given me so she knew it wasn’t his fault.

I concluded my conversation with my mother at the docks where I had my morning smoke. “You’ll talk to dad about it right? I don’t want Godfather James to go blabbing to him about me dating an ex-convict half my age.” I said rolling my eyes.

“I’ll talk to him. We all know he’s been prone to spinning the truth a little…”

“Thank you!” I sighed in relief.

“So other than this situation… you’re okay?” As she spoke, I noticed The Morgan rocking gently on the waves as it was docked and smiled to myself.

“I can honestly tell you that I’ve never been happier.”

“Good. I’m glad. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Yeah it has… Well I gotta go now. I’ve got a lot to do today…”

“Alright, monkey. You need to call me more often. I don’t know what’s goin’ on down there, yknow? I love you.” She said in her motherly voice.

“I know. I love you too, ma. Talk to you later.”

With that, I hung up and started on my fresh pack of cigarettes. As I placed one between my lips and lit it, I received a voicemail from an unknown number. I furrowed my brows as I hit play and pressed and let it play out in my earphones.

“Hey, darlin’, it’s me…” it began and I ceased all movement. I could hear Sam’s raspy Boston accented voice loud and clear. “I miss you so so much and I wish you were here with me. You’d love it. The grass is green, the water is the clearest blue, and the flowers are...small and purple but uh… vibrant nonetheless.” His voice almost brought me to tears. I missed him so much. He’d only been gone a week but it felt like forever. “The job is going as planned. Might’ve hit a snag for a second but we pulled through.” He sounded tired. I hoped he was getting enough rest. “Now, just because I’m not there right now, I hope you’ve been training and taking care of yourself. Um….” I heard him blow a raspberry on the other end and I chuckled, finally taking a drag of my cigarette that had just been burning this whole time. I could just hear him smiling on the other end, wherever he was. “I can’t wait to get back to you… I’m gonna video call you tonight so be near your laptop, mmkay? I gotta go now. Um… take it easy, be safe driving if you go anywhere, have a good class if you’re teaching today, have a successful rehearsal….. aaand I’ll talk to you soon, sweetheart. Drake out!” I smiled to myself, cringing at the last bit. He could try so hard to be “cool” sometimes when he didn’t need to be. But I liked it. It made me laugh.

My day was dreary to say the least. I taught a kids ballet class and a teens hip hop class scheduled for this morning and this evening. It was hard to pay attention all day and it made classes a little rough today. I wasn’t on the ball. When I came home, I sat in my car to roll a blunt and smoke for a little bit. I stared at Sam’s empty house and sighed. I wanted him back home, that’s for sure. I missed his hugs, his voice, the corny jokes, and the way he smelled. Whilst I sat there, stoned out of my mind, I had a thought. I quickly tapped out the blunt and grabbed my dance bag before running to Sam’s. I let myself inside and I fought back a sob. Feeling embarrassed about it I made my way to his fridge and stole the bottle of scotch he was always drinking. I never saw the appeal in it but he always looked damn good drinking it. I popped the top off and took a sip before sealing it and placing it in my bag. Then I made my way to his room. It smelled like him. Cologne, cigarettes, and beer. I opened up his closet to browse his range of tee shirts and bold Hawaiian prints before my eyes landed on a black crew neck sweater and a dark plaid button down shirt. Immediately I snatched them and a random blue graphic tee off the hangers. “Well shit, hun. Maybe you do have some taste.” I said to myself. On my way out, I grabbed the blanket we used to wrap up in when we watched TV and one of his books from his shelf. The one I always tried to read when I came over but he would always scoop me in his arms and tell me how good I looked reading. Almost always ending up in sex so I could never continue. Smirking, I tucked the thick book under my arm and turned to leave.

That night after my shower, the first thing I put on was Sam’s plaid shirt. As I sat on my bed, I turned the TV on and dried my hair, setting up my laptop for Sam to call. I went downstairs to ask my Godmother if she needed any help with the kids but she told me she was fine so with a disappointed look I said my “okay” and returned upstairs with snacks to keep watching TV. I changed the channels a few times when I didn’t like what came on. That’s when I stopped on a channel playing Raiders of the Lost Ark. I chuckled as I grabbed my snacks from my mini fridge and the bottle of scotch. I was actually enjoying myself and for once didn’t feel like shit. That’s when I heard a ping from my laptop. It was a message from Sam.

Cap’nDrake: You awake, Princess?

I cackled at his username for a moment before responding.

Tali_Sc0res: Your username is ridiculous.

Cap’nDrake: Well I’m not changing it.

My laptop let out a little twitter as he requested a video call. Immediately, I got up to close my door and mute my TV. I adjusted my hair and let his shirt hang off my shoulder a bit before answering. Suddenly, he appeared on screen from his desk, his upper body covered by a thin white tank, reading glasses perched at the bridge of his nose, cigarette smoke exiting his nostrils as he ran his fingers through his wet hair. The scar above his eyebrow that always seemed to get reopened was covered by a bandage but other than that, he seemed fine. I smiled brightly as I watched him put away some maps and close up some books. “Heya, sweetheart!” He grinned warmly as he pulled the glasses from his face. I pouted a bit as he did so as he bit his lip, taking in my entire appearance. “My god, you look delicious- is that my shirt?!” He asked, narrowing his eyes to get a better look at me.

“Maybe.” I replied as I scrunch my face and take a large sip of scotch.

“You raided my house?” He chuckled, rubbing his hand across the stubble on his face. “That miserable, huh?” He could read me very well.

“Honestly… I think I’m handling you being gone pretty well. Today I just… My Godfather pissed me off early as hell in the morning and I really just wanted to be with you.” I sighed, thinking about the conversation I had with him this morning.

“What’s little Jimmy bitchin’ about now?” He didn’t sound worried one bit as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“He found out about us and he didn’t hesitate to tell me how much he didn’t like it.” I said, taking a long sip of scotch, the burn feeling much better than my current emotions.

“Aye aye! Take it easy, sister. That stuff’s not cheap.” He nagged through the screen. I chuckled through the bottle and put the cork back in it, sitting it on my nightstand next to me. “As for James,” he made a face acknowledging the pettiness of my Godfather. “Don’t let him get to you. He has a tendency to lash out when things don’t go his way. He’s a little bitch like that.” He said in an unconcerned tone.

“Trust me I know. We’ve butted heads almost all my life. He’d get mad if I was on the phone too long or if I wasn’t interested in something he was talking about…”

“Listen, I’m sure he means well.” He reached offscreen and brought a beer to his lips before placing it back down.

“He called you an ex-convict.” I told him and he burst into laughter. Literally loud and boisterous, slapping his knees and clapping. I chuckled to myself as he found amusement in my Godfather’s comment. He spoke when he finally calmed himself down enough.

“Jesus, James! Tell me how you really feel.” He giggled.

We continued to talk for a few and he told me all about what he’d seen in India. The landmarks, that statue work, the puzzles they found all over the place. He spoke of how he was leading Chloe’s competitor on a wild goose chase by lying that he was a Hoysala expert. Only he could get away with something like that. The mouth on that man was talented in more ways than one. Then he asked me how things were going on my side of the world. “I have a dance recital comin’ up. The kids get to show what they’ve learned then the other teachers and myself do a dance too.”

“Now we’re talkin’!” He beamed at me. “When?!”

“Would you even be back in time?” I sulked.

“Hey, now. Pick your head up, sweetheart.” He said. I lifted my head but took my gaze to a random corner of my room, giving an annoyed huff. “Look at me.” I tilted my head and brought my eyes to the screen. “I’m gonna be there.” He stated. “I’ll be sittin’ right in the front row so save my seat, sister!” He grinned. That made me feel good. That meant he might be home soon.

“I will.”

“Now, I can’t stay up with you for too much longer but would you do me the honor of granting this… poor old man a favor?” He said dramatically clutching his heart through his shirt. I gave a flirty smirk and adjusted myself to sitting back on my heels.

“What do you need?” I mewed.

“Would you sing for me?” He asked. It was such a pure request from him that I blushed, covering my cheeks with the long sleeves of the shirt.

“Really? You want me to sing?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, doll.” he looked at me longingly and I couldn’t stop myself from becoming a blushing mess. “Now I know it’s not selling out a stadium or anything but it’s one fan who’s really missed hearing your voice… Song of your choice of course.”

I rolled my eyes with a laugh as I reached next to my bed to pull my acoustic guitar from its case. Sitting the guitar in my lap, I thought long and hard about what to sing for him, briefly checking the tuning of the strings. Without much preparation, I began strumming the chords and plucking the strings to Strange Land by Niki. He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes, lighting another cigarette and taking his beer in hand to relax as my voice carried through the laptop.

Here for the nosedive

Whatever you need

And I'm savin' all the bold lines

I'll say 'em while you sleep

You're sleepin' on the wrong side

And I'm turnin' endlessly

Screamin' for my lifeline, lifeline, life

Ooh, continental drifter

Still, I'm the hero of my hometown

Now I'm all laid up with you, sentimental trickster

Maybe in another lifetime, lifetime, life (oh)...

“Wow… it’s almost like I’m hearing you sing for the first time all over again.” He said with a sentimental tone. He gave me a genuine smile.

“Goodnight, Sam…” I sang softly. He reached out to touch the screen for a moment and gave a small smile.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll be home soon…. I love you.” He said before terming the connection. My heart skipped as I stared at the black screen. ‘Did he really just say that to me?’ I thought with a smile as I put my guitar away. I spent the rest of watching Indiana Jones with a goofy look on my face.

[justakpopfic]

12 Days of Dancing—Day 11

Summary: When Yunho finds out about a dance competition, he’s disappointed to learn that he needs a minimum of three members to enter. Teaming up with a dance teachers son, the two have to work together to make a performance before Christmas Eve. And hopefully, win.

Genre: Fluff with a little bit of angst

Masterlist / Next

The Eleventh Day of Dancing

Dress rehearsals were today. So instead of meeting in the same practice room as always, Yunho, San, and Wooyoung went to the theatre on the other side of the building.

“Man, this place is huge!” Yunho said as they walked into the theatre. He couldn’t believe how grand it felt. Hundreds of seats ran for what seemed like miles. A large stage sat at the front, with red curtains and everything. Yunho could see the Christmas decorations were starting to be put up. Red and greed garlands we’re strung near the top of the stage.

“Please take a seat where your name cards are placed,” Mrs. Choi said, holding a megaphone. “We’ll be starting dress rehearsals soon.”

Yunho, Wooyoung, and San found their seats near the middle of the theatre. It was then that Yunho realized how many people signed up to be in the contest. He saw the group of little kids at the very front, the same kids that Mrs. Choi taught. There were another group of kids who looked slightly older, and Yunho saw Ace and the rest of his team take a seat next to them.

Ace and Yunho met eyes for one second, before Ace sat down, facing away from him.

The little kids near Ace started getting loud as all kids do, and Yunho couldn’t but smile to himself, glad that he was sitting away from most of the commotion.

“Settle down, settle down,” Mrs. Choi said, walking onto the stage. She held her megaphone to her mouth.

“Today is our dress rehearsals for our first annual Christmas competition,” she said. A small applause was given before she could speak again. “Today, we are simply going to run through how the contest will go tomorrow evening.”

She started to lead the groups up to the stage, starting with the children closest to her.

“The youngest group will perform first, and when you’re done, you will move backstage for the rest of the show,” Mrs. Choi said. “You won’t be sitting in the audience for the actual show tomorrow, I expect you to be here at 6 o’clock tomorrow to get ready.”

Dress rehearsals had officially begun. Mrs. Choi arranged her class of tiny dancers on the stage, then told them to perform their song as if this was a performance. “Santa Clause is Coming to Town” started playing and the little kids started to do their little dance.

Yunho couldn’t stop gushing at them. When the little kids were done, he gave them a big applause.

“It seems like we got some competition,” Yunho said to Wooyoung. Wooyoung smiled, stifling a laugh.

They watched the other performances in silence. Then it was time for Aces team to go up.

Yunho couldn’t lie, it was an impressive performance, especially since the amount of people they had led them to do more moves that Yunho wished they could do. He looked over at Wooyoung and San. Wooyoung seemed to be a combination of angry and upset, his hands gripped the armrests like he could rip them off in an instant. San kept a straight face, jaw twitching subtlety.

When Aces team was done with their performance, Wooyoung leaned over to Yunhos ear.

“That was the choreography that we were practicing when I got kicked off,” he whispered. “He even used my idea of making a circle formation near the end. He told me it was stupid.”

Wooyoungs voice started to shake. Yunho took Wooyoungs hand and stroked it gently.

“It’s okay. This is just more proof that Ace was lying to you,” he said.

“Then why did he have to use my idea after I left?”

“Because he’s too scared to admit that he was wrong.”

Wooyoung knew that Yunho was right, but why was he having such a hard time admitting that Ace was wrong? Why did he have to keep giving him excuses?

Before they knew it, it was their turn. The three boys got up from their seats and walked onto the stage.

“Get into your first position, boys,” Mrs. Choi said. “Remember, this is just rehearsals, don’t worry about mistakes, just perform.”

The music started playing.

Yunho closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and started to dance. This is just like practice. And the practice paid off, every move came naturally to Yunho.

The same was for San. Any worries he had floated away the second the music started playing. He loved this feeling. The feeling of getting to dance in front of people. A euphoric feeling rushed through him. He almost didn’t notice the rod near his feet.

The euphoria slipped away in an instant. San almost tripped over his own feet, but was able to stay standing. But not without a cost. His stumble made him on second late to his next position. Wooyoung noticed the stick, and he spared at glance backstage. Ace was there, smirking at Wooyoung. Wooyoung really wanted to just shove Ace, but instead he flicked the rod away from him so that no one else would get hurt.

The song ended, and the three boys walked off the stage. Now backstage, Wooyoung almost went up to Ace to tell him off about trying to hurt San. But Yunho held him back, leading him to a different area backstage.

“That jerk,” Wooyoung spat out, once they were far away enough.

“Calm down,” Yunho said.

“You expect me to calm down? He tried to injure San on purpose! You expect me to be calm about that?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. What Ace did was wrong, but we can’t go on a rage. That’s what he wants.”

Wooyoung growled underneath his breath. He took a deep breath, until he relaxed his hands and shoulders.

“I’m calm,” he said. “I’m calm now.”

“San, are you okay?” Yunho asked.

“Yeah I’m fine,” San said.

“Did he hurt you?” Wooyoung said.

“No, I’m fine. Just a little shaken.”

The three boys didn’t say anything after that. They simply sat down on the floor and watched the rest of the groups go on.

❄️

“That’s the end of dress rehearsals,” Mrs. Choi said after the last group went up. “You may now leave the theatre, and we’ll see you all tomorrow at six o’clock pm sharp!”

Yunho, Wooyoung, and San got up to leave. They walked past Ace and his team, not making eye contact with them, despite Wooyoung being tempted to push him off the stage after what he did to San.

They walked into the practice room, the same one they always used. San threw his bags and coat down to the floor.

“Come on,” said San. “Let’s get practicing.”

Yunho was about to say something, but Wooyoung shook his head at him. Yunho closed his mouth, knowing that now was not the time to say anything.

Practice went by normally. At around six o’clock, Yunho started to pack up his things.

“Wait, where are you going?” San said.

“Home,” Yunho said.

“We can’t leave yet.”

“Why not?”

“We still need to practice!”

“But I have to get ready for our little sleepover,” Yunho said.

“Hey, we’ll stay and practice for a little longer,” Wooyoung said. “Yunho, what time do you want us to be there by?”

“Around eight,” said Yunho.

“Great. You can go, we’ll practice some more.”

Yunho bid them goodbye and left, leaving Wooyoung and San to practice for two more hours.

Seven thirty. Wooyoung looked over at San. Tired, out of breath San who was still practicing the choreography.

“San,” he said. “It’s time to go to Yunhos place.”

“But…I need to practice…some more,” San said, panting.

“San,” Wooyoung places his hand on Sans shoulders. “You’re great, I know you’ll be great.”

“But…what happened today—“

“Was extremely low on their part. But that just means that they’re threatened by us. They don’t want us to win, and they don’t feel like they’re good enough to win on their own part.”

“I don’t feel like I’m good enough.”

“And that’s a lie, okay? I saw your dancing for years. I know you’re a great dancer, and even if we don’t win, I think that you’re still a better dancer than Ace ever was.”

San was quiet. He gave Wooyoung a tight hug, mumbling a small “thank you” in his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wooyoung said shyly. “Come on, Yunhos waiting for us.

❄️

Yunhos home was the floor right above his mothers cafe. When Wooyoung and San arrived, the whole apartment smelled like peppermint and hot chocolate. Yunho greeted him at the door. He took their things and led them to his room.

Yunho had laid out all of the ribbons and craft materials out that they bought yesterday. Newspaper was strewn across the floor. Yunhos suit sat atop the newspaper.

“Did you remember your suits?” Yunho asked.

“Yup,” Wooyoung said, as he and San took them out of their duffel bags.

Yunho had a radio that used to be his mothers. It was old but it was still working and he tuned into a station playing Christmas music.

The evening was spent with the boys helping each other make epaulets that didn’t look stupid and gluing them safely onto their suits, the way Yunhos mother taught him to. Once everyone had their DIY shoulder decorations on. They began to paint them in red and green, glue bows to them, and attach ribbons that curled to the ends. All while the fifth cover of “Baby it’s Cold Outside” played in the background.

Once they were done, they tried them on. Personally, Yunho thought they came out way better than expected.

“We look like the princes of Christmas,” Yunho said cheerfully.

“On a budget,” Wooyoung added.

That sent San on the ground, laughing as the other boys joined them. However, no one could argue against it. The fake epaulets fit quite well on the suits. The best part was, that they didn’t look as cheap as Yunho was worried they would be.

When Yunhos mother saw them, she just had to take a picture of them wearing it. Well multiple really.

“Mrs. Jeong, aren’t you coming to watch our performance tomorrow?” San asked after the tenth picture.

“Of course!” she said. “I want to capture this moment right here.”

Once she was satisfied, the three boys went back to Yunhos room. They cleaned up their craft space, and started laying out the mattresses and sleeping bags for Wooyoung and San.

It was nine o’clock when they were finished, and the three boys decided to get changed and just lie down. They didn’t want to sleep just yet, after all it was a sleepover. They stayed up a little while longer, talking about the competition tomorrow, and whatever else came to their mind.

“I wonder what we can do with 500 dollars,” San said.

“Remember, I’m getting half of the money,” Wooyoung said.

“Ahh, so that’s why you wanted to join us,” Yunho said.

The three boys all laughed. The Yunho yawned.

“I think I might be falling asleep soon,” he said.

“Me too,” said San, yawning as well.

“I just wanted to say this before I fell asleep,” said Yunho. “Thank you for doing this competition with me. Even if we don’t win, I hope we can stay friends.”

“Me too,” San said.

“Thank you for wanting me on your team,” Wooyoung said.

“Anytime,” Yunho said.

Yunho yawned one last time before closing his eyes, and the bliss of sleep came to him.

[95liners3rdmember]

Worth It

Chapter Thirteen: Concert Day 1

Word Count: 5424

Chapter Twelve: Last Night

Ever since Natalie went back home, the members and I have been going nonstop. We had to put the finishing touches on the MAMA performances, which also happen to be the songs we needed to film and finish up anyways. My favorite was the ‘Mic Drop’ remix, but it was also the most exhausting. Even after they were finished and leaving for the day I stayed behind to make sure that there were no changes that needed to be made to make it better or easier for them. A few times Jimin or Namjoon caught me staying late and that would spark a small disagreement but at the end of the day they both knew that there was no way in changing my mind. After all if I could work through all of the pressure of award shows or tour dates then I’m not cut out for this job.

Which is why I’m sitting in my car watching over the last concert performance. I wasn’t here when the choreo was made for the Wings tour so I’ve been having to learn it all on top of everything else. It normally wouldn’t be a big deal but I want to make sure the members can come to me if they are having any problems. The first concert for the three day back-to-back-to-back performances start tonight and this is the most nervous I’ve ever been in my entire life. Yesterday rehearsal went pretty well but there were a few changes made to the stage so I need to go in and make sure it’s still safe enough for them.

My heart is beating out of my chest as I pull my sunglasses down to cover my eyes, as I exit my car I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head towards the staff entrance. It’s early enough to where the only people here are the security team and the stylists. After a quick greeting I’m walking down the long hallways towards the staff room. Small laughter echo from the fitting rooms and I find myself stepping lighter so I don’t disrupt their little world. Hopefully my assistant will be here soon to keep me company, after all the members are going to be too focused on the performance.

Peeling out of my hoodie, I toss my sunglasses into my bag and dig out my headphones. As I walk down the hallway towards the stage I pull my hair up and out of my face. The stage crew all wave a good morning greeting and I kindly return it as I make my way up to the stage. In an hour or so the backup dancers will be here with the members and we will do a runthrough of the concert to make sure everything looks good. But for now I have the entire stage to play around with. Hitting shuffle, I place my phone down on the edge of the stage and I let my body follow the music.

As I move, I can’t help but smile. I’ve never and never will perform on a stage at this magnitude. But it’s fun to play around and just imagine what the energy would feel like. It’s no wonder why they all start to miss the stage after stepping off.  It’s actually insane to witness how much they’ve changed from the rookies to the seasoned group, yes they have a ways to go but I have faith that they will be able to make all of their dreams and goals achievable. And I’ll make sure I’m there with them for when the road gets tough.

Lately it’s been getting harder and harder for them to hide their struggles from each other. The one that really worries me is Jin oppa, as a person he knows what makes him happy and doesn’t really let the small things get him down. But lately he hasn’t been as playful or joyful. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed. After New Years the members are going away for a weekend with no staff and no cameras. Just seven boys that need time to separate themselves and figure out where their hearts are.

Spinning on the tips of my toes I almost fall over as I spot a pair of crescent shaped eyes watching me with a wide smile. Balancing myself, I take out a headphone and smile back at him. It’s surprising that he’s one of the first one’s here.

“Good morning Jimin. Seems you do know how to be early.” Teasing him, I move over to grab my phone. Seems I missed a few messages from him and a pout forms on my face when I read the offer for coffee. Turning back to him I can’t hide the pout but his smile turns into a smirk.

“Good morning y/n. Seems you missed a prime opportunity.” Rolling my eyes I walk over to him and just as I make it over he pulled out a large cup from behind his back, two actually. I try and grab one of the cups from him but he quickly reacts and holds it slightly higher. Seems he’s in a playful mood today,

“Thank you for bringing me coffee.” Tilting my head to the side I manage a wide, cheesy smile. Deep down I know it’s not hard to, afterall look at who’s standing in front of me. It seems to work as Jimin lowers his arm and gives me the one with a white straw. Jimin really did remember every detail, the one time all of our drinks were sitting together and I made the mistake of taking Yoongi’s. I swear I was wide awake for the rest of the night, I even came up with part of the choreo for an award show that night. Ever since I’ve always made sure that mine stood out.

“Anytime. It’s surreal that the tour is almost over.” Jimin’s voice softens as he looks out into the dark arena. His eyes seem a little darker than normal, the usual shine isn’t burning as bright. If there wasn’t a concert today I might mention it but I’d rather not makes things worse.

“It won’t be long before the next one starts though. And I have a feeling that it’s going to be even more amazing than this one. More memories.” Bringing the staw up to my lips I take a quick sip but nervously start to bite down on the plastic. In the short time I’ve been here I’ve already made so many memories with each member that I can’t help but be selfish and want to make more.

“I guess.” There’s a pained tone in his voice just before he starts drinking. Thinking quickly I set my cup down and scroll through my playlist. Jimin’s eyes watch every move I make, thankfully the stage crew have left to take a break before the other members come in. Finding the song I was looking for a huge smile breaks out across my face. Just as the song starts playing my hand wraps around Jimin’s wrist and I tug him away from the speaker that we were leaning on.

‘Go-Go’ fills the silence around us and we first start off trying to do the choreo but the more we get into the song, the more we just start goofing off. Turning to face each other we just make ridiculous face at each other as we dance in place. Jimin’s somber expression turns into the one that I always want to see on him, happiness. His mind is taken off of the performance tonight for a split second. As the song ends we both slow down to a stand still, our breathing ragged from jumping around like idiots. Honestly if you didn’t know who we were you would’ve thought we had never danced a day in our lives.

The next song starts playing and before I can walk away to change it Jimin gently pulls me towards him, making sure to keep his hands away from anything inappropriate, we start to move to the calming beat. ‘Serendipity’ softly plays behind us and I can’t help but feel my body start to heat up and turn red from the closeness. The fact that ‘Serendipity’ is playing doesn’t help either. Following his lead I place my hands on his shoulders and try to avoid eye contact the best I can.

Jimin softly sings along as we move in a small circle on the massive stage. My heart is beating out of my chest and I’m really scared that he might be able to hear it. Looking up at his through my lashes I can’t help the leap my heart does. His eyes are closed and a soft smile as formed, against my sides his fingers tap along with the beat. Carefully he pulls me closer as the song goes on, close enough that I’m able to wrap my arms around his neck. This is starting to get too intimate, too close for my liking. My brain can’t wrap itself around what’s going on and my heart feels like it could literally burst at any second.

“Let me love you…” Jimin’s voice is right in my ear as he sings, goosebumps form under my sleeves. It would surprise me if I looked like a love-struck teenager right now. Raising my eyes to him again our gazes meet and it’s intense. It’s corny to say the least, all of the K-Drama’s and fairy tales describe the same situation. If this were all happening under a different situation, if he was someone else or I didn’t work for him, I might have tried to kiss him.

“Jimin hyung where are you? And where’s Noona?” The invasion of Jungkook’s voice causes us to break apart. Jimin makes his way towards the young man’s voice as I just stand there and try to regain my composure. What just happened? Did I really just think about kissing Park Jimin? The person who I consider my second closest friend…. Seriously what’s wrong with me!

Rushing over to my phone, I turn off the music just in time for the other six to come walking out. Stuffing my things into my lone pocket, I look over and see that Jimin seems focused on whatever Jungkook is saying, but that’s none of my concern. Taehyung and Hobi come running up to me to go on and on about how Jimin beat them to practice for once. Saying that he must be an imposter and the real Jimin has been taken. Halfheartedly I laugh and agree but I know for sure that the real Jimin is with us.

Namjoon can tell that something is up as he raises a questioning brow. Shaking my head toward him, I go to stand near the sound booth. Everyone starts getting their in-ears and mics ready, someone from the sound booth hands me a mic just in case since I’ll be standing in the empty seats watching. Bending down, my phone and headphones come tumbling out of my pocket. Bending down to grab them, Namjoon taps me on the shoulder just as I was about to slide down the stage.

“What’s up Joon?” Whispering to him as the others are working on getting themselves wired up, he holds out his hand. Was I supposed to bring him something? Tilting my head I show my confusion and he can’t help but laugh.

“Give me your stuff, I’ll have Jungkook run them to the staff room.” His dimple peaks through as his smile forms. Feeling like an idiot I gently place the electronics in his waiting hand. Namjoon turns on his heels and I slide under the bar to drop down to the floor, making my way up to the mid bowl level. Just as I make it to a good spot, Jungkook yells into the mic to get my attention.

“Noona you really need to get pants with pockets.” I know that he’s teasing but I can’t help the guilt form in my stomach. I shouldn’t be having them do any favors for me. Bringing the mic up to my lips I talk softly.

“Jungkook you don’t have to take them. I can do it.” He waves me off and starts running to the back, mic in hand.

“I’m just teasing noona! Be right back.” The next thing I see is the maknae sprinting to the back of the stage and out of sight. I can’t help but laugh at his antics and energy, but I feel like a pair of eyes are on me…. I look over at Jimin and Tae, their mics are behind their backs as they are deep in conversation but Jimin’s eyes keep cutting over towards me. Yoongi seems to notice their isolation and he looks up towards me too.

Thankfully just as quickly as he disappeared, Jungkook returned. Breathing a sigh of relief I bring my mic up. My stomach is doing flips from earlier but I can’t worry about that right now, no right now my main focus needs to be this run through.

“Let’s start from the top.”

A few hours later and I’m crashing into a chair in the staff room. There were a few things that needed to be changed and luckily they were all minor. The managers stole the members from me right around lunch so they could eat and start getting ready. Which was a blessing in disguise since I needed a breather away from all of them for a moment. Between what happened this morning and their pre-concert energy I felt drained. I never expected them to be this hyper the morning of a concert.

My phone is blowing up with notifications and text messages from everyone. My assistant was letting me know that all of the backup dancers were ready and the changes were noted. Apparently any staff that drove themselves need to be aware that there will be a delay leaving tonight because of traffic and security is being magnified after seeing all of the fans waiting outside.

Never a dull moment at BigHit, looks like I won’t be getting home until later. Scrolling through my phone as I eat my box lunch, a message from Jimin pops up on my screen.

Jimin: ‘Can you come to the dressing room? Jin hyung is complaining that you haven’t been hanging out as much lately.”

My heart sinks in my chest, I really haven’t seen them much beside practice since before award season. Putting the lid on my lunch, I grab all of my stuff and make my way down the hallway. On my way towards the dressing room I pass by Manager Sejin who stops me.

“Hey y/n, good to see you! I know it’s been a while since we saw each other but I wanted to say thank you for all of the hard work. The guys seem happier having you here.” The smile he has when he mentions the members causes my heart to warm. Sejin really cares about each and every member of BTS with all of his being.

“Thank you Sejin, it’s been amazing and I can’t wait for next year.”

“I feel the same. Where you on your way somewhere? Because if you could, would you stop by their dressing room? A few of them have been complaining that they haven’t seen you outside of practice.” Wow, they really talk about me to Sejin. I can’t help but giggle at the statement.

“Actually I was on my way to see them. Jimin had texted me.”

“Oh then let me help, I’m pretty sure the door is shut and you have your hands full.”

Sejin leads the way and even takes my lunch from my hands. Smiling softly, he gently knocks on the door and lets them know he has a special delivery. He enters the room first and places my lunch down on the table, I enter behind him and the entire room burst out with cheers.

“Finally! It felt like you were avoiding all of us!” Jin yells from his spot on the couch, his hands hovering a pair of chopsticks over his steaming bowl of noodles. Seven pairs of eyes are on me as I stand like a deer in the headlights. They literally just spent over three hours with me practicing, but I guess just sitting together is different. Sejin says his goodbye and leaves the room quietly but not before I’m able to see the smile blossoming on his face.

The only empty seat is between Yoongi and Hobi, setting my bag down I carry my lunch over and curl up into the spot. There’s food spread all over the table in front of us and humidifiers fill the room with steam. Hobi hooks an arm around my shoulder and gives me a side hug. Leaning into his touch I maneuver to return the embrace.

“After the concert, let’s all go out and eat.” Yoongi suggest as I break away from Hobi and nudge him lightly. It’s been over a month since we’ve all gone out to dinner together and it sounds like a great idea. But is there going to be a restaurant open that late after the concert?

“Will anything be open that late? The last time I checked everything will be closed by then.” It seems to throw Yoongi for a loop as he digs out his phone to check the times of nearby restaurants. A defeated groan leaves his lips before he slumps into the couch. But before I let him get too defeated I pat his arm.

“We can cook at my house. I’ve been meaning to cook all the meat in my fridge before it goes bad. I just haven’t had time to since we’ve all been so busy.”

“But we will get back to the dorms before you will, security tends to rush us out of the venue as quickly as possible.” Yoongi has to remind me of the email that was sent around to everyone. Taking a bite of my rice, I shrug my shoulders. There’s a simple and easy solution to the problem.

“I’ll give one of you the key to my apartment. You all can go ahead and start cooking, hopefully I’ll be able to help once I get there. Trust me when I say there’s plenty of food, in all honesty I was planning on cooking more but most nights I order takeout on the way home.” Them all seem happy with the solution but Jin looks irritated that I’ve been skipping healthy meal choices for something quick. One day Jin went into big brother mode and scolded me for all of the takeout boxes I had in my office.

They all agree with the plan and we continue to eat our lunches in silence. As the members finish they all excuse themselves so they can shower and get ready for the stylist. Waving bye, Jin goes to throw his trash away and takes the opportunity to steal the empty seat beside me

“Have you been avoiding us?” Jin fake pouts as he leans his head against my shoulder. Sometimes I wonder if Jin is the real maknae of the group.

“You know I haven’t oppa, I’ve just been busy like you. I’ll make up for it tonight!” He seems satisfied with that answer. Jumping from his seat he pulls me into a tight hug, lifting me from my seat.

“See you before the show y/n! You better be cheering us on!” Jin’s laugh vibrates through my body before he sets me back down. He lightly jogs out of the room and silence greets me again. Only Jimin and I are left. Turning my attention to him, I see that he’s fidgeting with his phone, like he’s nervous about something.

“You’ve been done eating longer than anyone. Are you okay?” I get up from my seat and make my way over to Jimin, I pat him thigh playfully as I plop down on the couch beside him. Propping my head up with an arm against the back of the couch, I watch as he slowly locks his phone and bends over to get something from a bag.

“I wanted to give this to you earlier this morning but I forgot.” What is he talking about?

He hands me a box, thankfully it’s not wrapped up but I’m still confused. Taking the lid off my eyes widen as I pull out the contents. A new in-ear and pack, the ear piece has a white marble pattern like the case Natalie gave me for my laptop. On the battery pack my name is written. I was going to use an old pair that the company has had for a while, I never thought about getting my own because I wasn’t sure if I would need to wear one.

“It’s already paired with the crews and ours. You’ll be able to use it tonight and for the rest of the time you’re with us.” Tears form in the corner of my eyes and I wrap my arms around his shoulders tightly. It’s such a thoughtful gift, Jimin really did think of everything today.

“Thank you Jimin, I’m guessing this is why you got here early today.” He nods slowly as I release my tight hold on him and go back to looking at the device in my lap.

“I should get going though before stylist noona comes looking for me.”

I can tell that Jimin is torn between leaving and staying, but I usher for him to get going. The last thing we need today is him getting scolded and me getting in trouble for keeping him longer than necessary. Just as he goes to cross the threshold, I call out for him.

“Jimin, you’re going to do great tonight.” Smiling I hold a thumbs up, earning myself the signature Jimin smile which instantly washed away any worry I have for tonight. With that he disappears from my sight and I’m left alone for the second time today. The next time I see them, they’ll be going up to the stage. I have no doubt they are going to do great.

The night has been going great so far, the arena is filled with an energy I’ve never felt before. Even at the concert back home there wasn’t this feeling. All night I’ve been smiling and watching from backstage. So far the solos have just gotten started and Jimin is performing ‘Lie’ next. My eyes are glued to the screen as Jungkook performs ‘Begin’, a few other staff members have joined me and from over the screen I can see Namjoon, Hobi and Yoongi making their way towards us. They have a little break before they’re needed. Tonight is going to be a long night.

“Night in-ear.” Namjoon teases me quietly as he watches to youngest with pride in his eyes. Over the years they’ve all gotten stronger as vocalists and dancers, it’s amazing to witness.

‘Begin’ comes to an end and everyone is getting ready to compliment Jungkook, but all I can see is Jimin walking towards the lift in the stage. He’s turned on his performance mode and the seriousness in his eyes is intimidating. I offer him a quick thumbs up just as him and Jungkook trade places on the platform. They high five as they switch and Jungkook rushes past us to change into the next outfit.

“Jimin seems a little off tonight.” I almost jumped out of my skin as Taehyung sneaks up behind me. Nodding in agreement I watch as the screen starts to light up and Jimin’s solo begins, someone calls for me through my in-ear and before I turn to go to the changing room, I locked eyes with Taehyung.

“Cheer him on Taehyung.”

“Always. Please start calling me Tae. You call everyone else a nickname.” He pouts and I can’t help but laugh.

“Not true. I don’t call Namjoon anything besides his name.” Well at least in front of everyone else. But if Tae wants me to start using a nickname then I’ll do it. Waving a rushed goodbye, I listen through my in-ear and run towards Jungkook. He’s sitting on the chair rotating his shoulder, he must’ve tweaked his muscle again.

“Y/n Jungkook irritated his muscle during the first few sets. Should we come up with a backup plan for a few of the more difficult choreographies?” Jungkook looks at me with wide doe eyes as the medical aid starts to tape up his shoulder. There are only a few that I’m worried about and they can always be changed on the fly.

“Jungkook what do you want to do? I need to know how you honestly feel before making any changes. I don’t want you to push yourself too far.” My voice is stern but caring. The last thing I want is for him to be disappointed and in pain. I can’t judge the state that he’s in but I know the set after the second round of solos are going to be intense.

“Can I tell you after ‘I need U’? I’ll try out the tape and see if that helps anything.” Nodding, I watch him take some pain medicine before pulling his shirt back up. Looking up at the screen, Jimin looks troubled as his solo comes to an end. My heart drops when I see the frustration filled his face and his eyes start to turn red. That’s not good, what did I miss.

“I’ll go ahead and start thinking of alternative. But take it easy for a few before the next set. You did great out there Jungkook!” Offering him a smile, I take off running and that when my heart drops even more.

“Y/n we need you under the stage.” Everyone can hear the announcement and my feet carry me even further into the chaos. The members point me in the direction of the voice the summoned me and I guess in the chaos of things I failed to notice it was Sejin calling me. Tae looks at me with a pained expression. As I pass Yoongi who’s waiting to go up to the stage he yells out to me and grabbed ahold of my wrist pulling me in.

“His voice cracked while performing and he missed a stage right after.” Yoongi whispers into my ear so everyone else connected can’t hear. Afterall they all just witnessed it hands on while I was busy with Jungkook. Nodding, my heart picks up faster as I break away and find Jimin crouching down with Sejin standing above him. Turning off my in-ear, I take one out and crouch down to pull Jimin’s hands away from his face.

Sejin places a hand gently on my shoulder, looking up at him I can see that he’s having a hard time leaving. I mouth that I’ll take care of him and he takes that as a promise and walks away leaving Jimin and I alone. Jimin’s eyes are filled with tears that are threatening to spill and he looks angry with a touch of disappointment. Reaching up I pull out one of his in-ears and I take his face in my hands forcing him to focus on me. We don’t have a lot of time but I have to help him.

“Jimin, don’t worry about it and don’t beat yourself up. I know that you wanted to make sure everything was perfect for ARMY but sometimes things happen. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.” Jimin seems to be trying to calm himself but failing. His eyes look away from me and to the floor. All I can do is reassure him and try to make him feel better. We don’t have much time, ‘First Love’ is almost halfway through and after is ‘So Far Away’.

“Jimin, look at me. You’ve got this. I’m sure ARMY would much rather you be happy and continue having fun tonight. This weekend is the Finale of the tour, a tour you’ve grown so much on. Just push this to the back of your mind and try to keep having a good time.” Jimin’s eyes meet mine again and he nods. I stand back up and bring him with me, thankfully we have just enough time to get him to the dressing room to change.

I make my way back to the small huddle of the rap line, my body feels like it’s vibrating. First I needed to start thinking of ways to change the choreo last minute and then Jimin had an episode. Which is something I’ll never blame him for and I’ll always be there to help, but it takes a lot out of me seeing him like that. It takes a lot out of me seeing any of them in that condition. I guess I didn’t realize I was shaking when Namjoon places a hand on the small of my back. Looking up at him my vision is blurry, great now is not a time to cry.

Namjoon rushes me past everyone to the dressing room, which is now empty. He digs out my backpack and grabs my glasses’ case. As soft sobs take over I pop out my contacts and replace them with my glasses. Namjoon pulls me into a tight hold and rubs my back softly. This is not how I thought tonight would be going. At least Namjoon is the one with me because if it were anyone else I would be way worse.

“It’s going to be okay, things happen. Just breathe.” Breathing in and out a few times slowly, I wipe the tears from my face and look back up at him with a sad smile.

“I just hate seeing all of you struggle. There’s not much I can do besides provide moral support and it kills me.” My voice cracks as I wipe my face clean with my sleeve.

“That’s why after the New Year the members are going on a weekend trip remember. There’s a lot we all need to work out but having you in our corner really does mean a lot. I mean, I've never seen them get so attached to anyone this quick. So please don’t doubt yourself.” Nodding is all I can manage as I calm myself down, we’re running out of time before they all need to be up on the stage. We look at each other and nod in sync, making our way back to the understage.

Seems we were gone longer than I thought as the vocal line come back down to change quickly, Jungkook looks at me with a thumbs up and mouths that he will be okay the rest of the night. A strange feeling of relief washes over me but tonight I do need to come up with a backup plan just in case tomorrow he’s in the same position.

They all gather into a group and chant before standing on the lift, before my eyes they disappear onto the stage and it isn't long before the crowd cheers louder than I’ve ever heard. Sighing deeply, a wave of calm rushes over me but it’s short lived as I watch the screen. In times like these I’ll always be worried about them, even if they don’t want me to. Because in this short amount of time they’ve become more than just BTS, they’re my family.

Sejin joins me and motions towards the opening, I follow him quickly and the next thing I know we’ve made our way to the pit beside the stage. It’s not very visible from the audience but the members spot us as they run around waving to ARMY. I can’t help but cheer along and dance like I’m part of the purple sea.

“Anytime you want you can come out here and watch. There’s not much left to do accept cheer them on. At the end of the day though, that’s all we really can do. But it works better than anything. As long as they know we are in their corner.” Sejin smiles to himself as he waves back to the boys in front of him. He’s right, they need to know that the people they care most for are there for them. And I’m going to make sure that I do that tonight. Even if that means I make them a little upset in the process.

[subasekabang]

Long Dream –Live Remix– (B Side)

Title: Long Dream –Live Remix– (B Side)

Rating: T

Word Count: 7598 total, 3840 this chapter

Characters: Coco, Joshua, Neku, Beat, OMC, OFC

Warnings: Major character death

Summary: Her Magnum Opus nears completion, and as her audience approaches, she hurriedly arranges one final rehearsal.  Elaboration on a pet theory of mine, built out of Final Remix spoilers.

Feel the people, hear the voices

They are reaching out to catch you

Feel the rhythms, hear the noises

You are beating all the visions

***

Shinjuku’s Room of Reckoning, the seat of power for its reigning Composer, was the only place in the entire city that Coco absolutely hated.  Despite being a space set aside specifically for her, she was required to keep the room exactly the way it had always been: a throwback to the Shinto roots of the city, with a gate of red wood over the entrance, two fox statues standing guard just beyond that, braided ropes and paper charms decorating every wall, and a large patch of white sand centered around a single flat stone under a narrow skylight.  Coco sat cross-legged on a cushion on that stone, rapidly tapping her fingers as she regarded her surroundings.

“This place and I have, like, the exact opposite energy.”

It wasn’t much longer until she heard footsteps.  Through the gate walked a woman who looked to be in her thirties, with slightly pale skin and straight black hair tied into a bun, wearing a simple shrine maiden uniform.  She knelt at the edge of the sand and bowed.  Coco fought back an urge to grimace, and was mostly successful.

“Sit up, Atsuko Watanabe,” Coco said in a half-assed formal tone.  “We have, like, much to discuss.”

Straightening her back, Watanabe said, “You honor me with your presence, Composer.  How may your humble servant carry out your will?”

Coco shifted in her seat.  Even now, she still wasn’t entirely sure how to begin.  “Well, uh…we got a thing we need to do…and this thing is, like, about Shinjuku’s future and stuff, so, um…”

A smile slowly crossed Watanabe’s face.  Her eyes twinkled as she asked, “Do you mean a Game?  Are we finally going to hold another Game?”

“Uuuuuh that was the plan, but—“

Watanabe brought her hands together.  “Wonderful!  It’s been so long since we’ve held a Game, we’ve built up such a stable of Players we need to test!”

“H-Hey, hold up gurl…” Coco said, reaching out reluctantly.

“I have already selected a Game Master I believe would be ideal, they need only your approval and we can begin immediately.  Of course, this is but a humble suggestion, my lady: we shall proceed in whatever way you deem best.  Oh, this is so exciting!  I can hardly wait!”  Watanabe closed her eyes and giggled, trying to sit still but bouncing just a bit.  Coco scratched her head as a wave of intense guilt washed over her.

“Big yikes…” she said.  “Um, Watanabe—“

“Yes, my lady?”

“I was saying, like, I was going to hold a Game, but…unfortunately, um, planz have changed.”

Coco could see the enthusiasm drain out of Watanabe.  In mere seconds, her cheery demeanor was entirely gone, leaving her with nothing but a hollow, dejected expression that made her look ten years older.  “…Oh.  I see.”

“Listen, I’m sorry it be like that.  Like, I know you really want a Game, and we’ll have one soon, I totez promise!  v soon.  But first, we got something else super urgent we need to deal with—it literally can’t wait, which is the only reason why I’m putting off the Game.”

Watanabe just stared down at the sand in silence.

Hesitantly, Coco asked, “…Um, Watanabe?  u good?”

“Composer…” Watanabe said quietly.  “Forgive me, but…I believe my patience has reached its limit.”

“Watanabe, listen up, this—“

“Years.  It has been years since the last time a Game was held in Shinjuku!  The Reapers need points to survive, my lady, and several of the rank and file are nearly out!  They are in very real danger of fading away forever!  And as if that weren’t bad enough, this…this entire situation could have so easily been avoided!”

Feeling just a little annoyed, Coco leaned forward and said, “I already told you, like, we’ll have one soon, nbd.”

“It’s a very big deal!” Watanabe shouted.  “At this point your men are so desperate that when we do hold a Game, the competition amongst them will be atrocious!  They won’t know when to expect another chance to earn points, so they’ll collect as many as they possibly can, hoarding them all for themselves, leaving few to none for the inexperienced to survive on!  We may have garnered an exorbitant amount of Players, but at this point I fear it still won’t be enough to go around!  And now you’re saying we need to wait even longer?!”

“Chill, fam!  You’re totez getting WAY ahead of yourself!”

“I have to think that far ahead, because you won’t spare so much as a single thought for your duties!”

Coco’s eyes widened, her veins freezing over.  “W…what did you just say about me?”

Watanabe stood up, aiming a sad glare at Coco.  “I’ve been running the UG on my own this entire time, because you won’t take your duties seriously.  You are meant to judge the worth of humanity, to learn what is necessary to guide them and us to a better future.  Does that simply not matter to you, Composer?”

Coco could hardly believe what she was hearing.  Standing, she said, “Like, of course it matters to me?  I heckin love Shinjuku!  Everything that I do is for the benefit of this city!  You sayin you for realz don’t know that, Watanabe?”

“It is hard for me to believe that, my lady.  You’ve excused yourself from your work for ages, and during all this time I’ve barely heard even a word from you!  Frankly…I feel I have no evidence to suggest that you truly care for this city, nor that you will ever behave responsibly in regards to your duty regarding it.”

“That’s a hot load of…”  Coco stopped, putting a hand to her forehead with a short huff.  “…Whatevs.  You don’t know what I’ve been doing, I never told you, so I guess I can’t totally blame you for thinking that.  But like, the reason I asked you here was cuz I’m gonna tell you what I’ve been doing, and what comes next in my keikaku.”

Watanabe waited expectantly.  Coco took a deep breath, hoping she would be able to find the words she needed.

“So tbh…I’ve been working on a Noise.  A super duper powerful Noise called a ‘Magnum Opus’, which contains, like, its own plane of existence inside of it.  I gotta strengthen it, and because it’s so complex, it’s taken a long time to get that done.  Like, a loooong time.  But it’s totez gonna be worth it!”

Watanabe furrowed her brow.  “This whole time, you’ve been making a Noise?  A single Noise?  What made you think such a thing was necessary?”

“Well…I had a vision,” Coco said.

“A vision?”

“Yeah!  I saw Shinjuku get entirely wiped out, so like, obv I had to do everything I could to stop that from happening!”

“…I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Well the…the way it happened…”  Coco’s words ground to a halt.  She couldn’t explain an Inversion without explaining the Inferno, and she couldn’t explain the Inferno without explaining the Higher Plane, and that was something she had been strictly forbidden from revealing to her subordinates.  “Um…see, the guyz who did Teh Thing were, like, suuuuper powerful.  I knew I was totez gonna need a heavy hitter to take ‘em down!  So, Magnum Opus Noise!”

Watanabe took a few seconds to reflect on this explanation, finally saying, “I suppose that makes some sense.”

“Great!  Glad we’re, like, on the same page!”

“Wait a moment, my lady, I still have questions.  I have never heard of this Magnum Opus Noise—where did you learn of it?”

“It’s, uh, top secret Composer stuff.  Sorry, can’t share those deetz.”

“Alright then.  In that case, did your vision also come from your Composer powers?”

Coco shook her head.  “Nah…my Composer-ness does give me sum omniscience and stuff, but this was different.  Normal Composer Vision is, like, whambalam, and KABAM, yeah, that seems right, I can feel it in my kokoro.  But this vision was totez creepy af, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Watanabe paused a moment.  “My lady…if you’ve never seen anything like this vision, then why are you so sure it is reliable?”

Coco blinked.  “…Um…”

Watanabe stepped forward.  “If this has nothing to do with your Composer abilities, then what guarantee is there that these events will come to pass?  Why would you be so certain of it that you would give up everything else just to prepare for something that may never occur?”

“It…well…”  Coco looked down, her cheeks starting to burn as she fumbled for a response.  She raised her fist towards her chin and turned slightly.  “Something about it, just…terrified me, Watanabe.  I’ve never felt horror like that, so…I mean, I had to do something.”

Watanabe took another step.  “And merely because it scared you, you abandoned all of us?!”

Coco backed up to the edge of her stone.  Watanabe lowered her gaze, realizing that her foot had landed on the sand.  Turning abruptly, she covered her face with her hand and sighed, while Coco just stared at her back.

“…Watanabe…please,” she said.  “I need your help to keep Shinjuku safe.  Can I count on you?”

Watanabe looked over her shoulder.  “…I am sorry, Composer.  But I do not believe in this cause of yours.  Go and do what you must…but in the meantime, I am going to see to my duties and conduct a Game.  Shinjuku cannot be asked to wait for us any longer.”

Coco lowered her arm.  Trying as hard as she could to smile, she said, “Understandable, have a nice day.”

Watanabe walked out.  Coco dropped down and pulled her hood over her eyes, shutting them tight to keep her tears from falling.  When she eventually opened them again, the room was much darker—something had covered up the skylight, she realized.  It was then she noticed Rōjin standing at the edge of the sand.

“…Like, I knew she was gonna be annoyed,” Coco said, “but I didn’t think she’d get so pissed off.  tbh I wasn’t prepared to see her like that.  I’m…kinda shook.”

She let out a ragged sigh.

“I legit wanted her help.  If I can’t count on Watanabe, then like, none of my Officers are gonna help.  Now Tapez and I are probs gonna have to fight the Inferno on our own.”

Hopefully, she glanced up at Rōjin.  He shook his head.

“…Right.  Your hands are still tied, I guess.  The Higher Plane won’t do anything until it’s already too late.  But damn Kiryu and his Producer get off totally clean after trying to sink their city…but, that’s none of my business.”

She got to her feet and looked her Producer in the eye.

“Rōjin…I totez appreciate all you’ve done for me.  You’ve been a real bro, taking me srsly and helping out however you can.  I know I sorta take you for granted, but like, I really am gr8ful for everything.  Just wanna let u know.”

Rōjin nodded.  Coco glanced at the sand hesitantly, and then shrugged, walking right across it.

“Guess I’ll just go back to what I was doing.  If you can, plz keep an eye out while Watanabe runs her Game—I don’t know fo sho how much time we got until the Inferno makes a move.”

As she approached, Rōjin held on arm out to stop her.  She faced him with a confused expression.

“I will advocate for you,” the Producer said.

“…wat?” Coco said.  “Wait, you mean right now, you’re going up?”

Rōjin nodded.

“I…I mean thnx, that’s really generous, but u sure?  They’re getting the Game they asked 4, that should make them happy, yeah?”

“A Game run by the Conductor.  They will demand an explanation.  Anticipating this will look better, and allow me a chance to sway them.”

Coco stepped towards him.  “Rōjin, don’t put a target on your back!  The Higher Plane has, like, already been clear about how they want to deal with the Inferno, there’s no way we’re gonna be able to change that.  Even if we tell em Shinjuku will be wiped out if they don’t do sumthin, they’re totez just gonna say ‘then perish’.  I can handle this!  I mean, I know I was just lowkey freaking out, but real talk, I can—“

Rōjin turned and began to leave.

“Hey, hold up!”

He paused.  Coco fidgeted.

“…I just…I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.  Like, I know I’m a crappy Composer, and I’ve already caused you nothing but grief with the crew upstairs.  If you push em any further…”

Rōjin faced her, and to Coco’s surprise, he was smiling.  “Don’t be afraid.”

Coco couldn’t think of a reply.  Rōjin turned back around and went through the gate, leaving Coco alone.  It took some time, but eventually she was able to calm down.

Tapez’s next meal might be the last one he gets before the baddle beginz.  I need to, like, figure out how to make his power maximum with just one more boost.

Slowly, she turned her head.

…The OG strat was that, at the last second, I’d go for that pair.  And like, they’d totez gimme dat boost.  But now that Kiryu’s onto me, and it’s obv just how, uh, strained my relationship with the Higher Plane is…not convinced that’s the best play I can make rn.

Coco paced across the room as she weighed her options.  As she did, she began to feel a sharp pain in her head, and her entire body tensed.

A…again?

The pain began to spread.

No, no not another one, not already, not now!

Her vision went out all at once.  When it returned, she was looking through that same unsettling filter, only now she saw not Shinjuku, but Shibuya.  She saw Neku, the boy slowly falling over as his body went limp and lifeless.  And in front of him, she saw Joshua, pointing a gun at him with a look of malice as an unfamiliar voice echoed in her mind.

“Hello?  Is anybody there?”

The Room of Reckoning came back, and it was perhaps the only time in her life Coco had ever been glad to see it.  She clutched her head tightly in both hands, staring wide-eyed at the floor, and worked to decipher what she had just seen.

“This one…was different…Kiryu shot him?  Why would he do that?  I mean, he did it before…is this from the past?  Or is he going to do it again?”

Coco thought back to her last conversation with Shibuya’s Composer.  She remembered his parting threat.

“…Would he really…kill Neku…just to stop me from using him?”

She couldn’t know for sure.  But, it wasn’t something she would put past him.  And assuming this latest vision wasn’t a look back into the past, that meant the Neku of the world she lived in might only be around for a limited time.

“If I dun act now, I might miss my chance.”

She weighed her options again, but this information was more than enough to tilt the scales.  Clenching her fists, Coco glared in the direction of Shibuya.

“I gotta do it to ‘em.  I ain’t afraid of Kiryu!  He can try whatev he wants, but I’m totez gonna come out on top!  After this, Tapez will be unbeatable!”

***

In this long dream, can you find me?

Want you to call my name

In this hazard, chance of survival?

I need to be with you

***

Coco stood alone on the empty streets of Shinjuku.  One hand was pressed firmly against her bleeding shoulder, and the other was clamped tight around a pin emblazoned with a symbol resembling the Dissonance Tapir’s eye.  She stood there, shaking, trying her best to cling onto her composure, but it was too much for her.  Coco threw her head back and wailed into the sky.

She had sought out Neku and Beat, drawn them into the pseudo-parallel world contained within the tapir, and done her best to coax them into making their way to the outskirts of “Shibuya”.  She was almost successful.  However, Shibuya’s Producer had interfered, using some unknown technique to take control of the replica of himself within her illusion and informing the Players of where they really were.  With the easy way no longer an option, Coco had ordered the tapir to attack, but somehow, they had found a way to erase it.

Dropping to her knees, Coco cradled the pin in both hands, barely able to see it through the tears pouring from her eyes.  As she was, she didn’t even have the strength to summon the tapir from it.  Her Magnum Opus was in there, she could sense its consciousness, but it was incredibly faint.

“Dammit…damn you, Kiryu…”

In her panic upon losing the tapir, Coco had ended up shooting Neku, but Joshua had appeared and wounded her as she retreated.  She had been just on the border of Shinjuku when the Inversion occurred.  And despite all her preparations, all her determination, Coco could do nothing but watch as her entire city vanished right before her eyes.

“Why Shinjuku?  Of all the UGs, why mine?!  Why…why…”

Not a single person remained on the once-bustling roads.  The tapir was out of commission, Watanabe was likely erased, and Rōjin wasn’t returning her calls.  Coco was alone with nothing to fight for, much less anything to fight with.

“…No…”

She punched the pavement.  With teeth clenched, she glared upward.

“If Shinjuku’s gone…then I’m gonna make the Inferno pay for taking it!  I’ll play their stupid Game, and I’ll win—whatever it takes!”

Taking one last look at the pin, she carefully placed it in her pocket.  She ripped off the end of her sleeve and wrapped it around her wound, and after making sure it was tight enough, she got to her feet and wiped her tears.

“Guess that puts me at square one.  Tapez can still make some contributions, but I’m not gonna have time to beef him up like I did before.  So I’mma need a new heavy hitter…”

Coco gazed at Shibuya once more.

“He’s totez not gonna want to help me…but like, he’s not getting a choice!”

***

Feel the people, hear the voices

They are reaching out to catch you

Feel the rhythms, hear the noises

You are beating all the visions

***

“…How fortunate she managed to escape erasure.”

Coco kept her eyes down as she walked.  She adjusted her hood, keeping the pin hooked to the inside of it next to her ear.

“Clearly she’s something special,” she heard Hanekoma say.  “And let’s not forget our little Reaper friend.  We’ve got some crazy cats headed our way.”

“Which makes this the calm before the storm.”  Coco scowled at Joshua’s voice.  “There’s no telling what will become of Shibuya…but I suppose that’s THEIR problem now, not ours.”

She rolled her eyes, mumbling, “That’s, like, exactly what I’d expect from you.”

“What about Neku?”

Coco stopped mid-step.

“He served his purpose,” Joshua said, “but I don’t need him anymore.”

She pulled out the pin, saying, “Hmph.  Speak for yourself, nerd.  The Game, like, literally can’t go on without Neku…like, maybe you don’t need him, but I totez do!”

At this point, he was her best bet.  If Neku, with help, was able to defeat the Dissonance Tapir after all the work she had put into it, then that made him the deadliest weapon available to her.  She had hoped Joshua would put him into play, but that was a problem she could easily circumvent.  However, that wasn’t the only problem this new plan faced.  Coco eyed the alleyway just ahead.

“If he’s, like, even gonna stand a chance…he’s totez gonna need a zetta strong partner!”

She entered the alleyway to find an elaborate pattern painted onto the sidewalk.  Immediately, she recognized it as a Taboo Noise refinery sigil.  For just a moment, Coco hesitated, wondering if this was really the person she wanted to recruit.  She couldn’t help but be curious about the girl from the vision—the one who supposedly escaped the Inversion unharmed—but she wasn’t sure exactly where she was, or if she could fight.  Coco had to make the most of what was available to her.  She had accepted that.

“If those goons are so thirsty for a fight…” Coco said, reaching out with both hands.  “Then they can, like, come here and get rekt like the noobs they are!”

She activated the sigil.  It lit up with bright light, but only for a few seconds before going out in a brilliant flash.  Coco waved away the smell of smoke as she gazed upon the man who now sat at the center of the design.

He had a mess of medium dark hair, and brown skin that turned to the pitch black shade of Taboo Noise over his hands and forearms, with an intricate emblem decorating his torso.  The black shirt and jeans he wore were badly torn, but the silver on his necklace and belt buckle gleamed as if brand new.  Slowly, he rose to his feet.  He looked down at himself and smirked in approval.

“Seems somebody forgot to carry the one,” he said.  “Not that I’m complaining!  They say the third time’s the charm, and I’ve always had a soft spot for cubic roots!”

Coco watched as he just threw his arms apart and laughed.  The power he possessed was incredible, nearly overwhelming her senses as she tried to gauge it.  Finally, he turned to her, and she snapped out of her trance.

“So tell me…how exactly do you factor into this equation?”

“…I just, like, need to know one (1) thing,” Coco asked.  “How’d you like to take down someone even stronger than a Composer?”

The man leaned in close.  “Hm…easier in theory than in practice.”

“Tru…but I have a plan that will totez make it possible tho.”

“Hah!  And what proof validates that operation?”

Pointing down, Coco said, “Like, I brought you back, yeah?  How many people can do that?  Doesn’t that get your attention?”

He looked at the sigil, then back to Coco.  Backing up a bit, he said, “Huh…you did this all with a single variable?  That’s worth adjusting an estimation for…”

“So like, whaddaya say, bro Minamimoto?  Come hear me out.  I totez promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Minamimoto thought for a moment.  Then, with a chuckle, he said, “It’d be zetta dumb to cancel out a set like that.  Tell you want, decimal point: I’ll see where this line you’ve plotted goes.  Just make sure the solution is as good as you’ve promised!”

Coco grinned.  Turning aside for the moment, she rubbed the Tapir pin in her pocket, and said to herself, “There’s, like, no way we’re gonna lose!”

***

Is it angels?  Is it devils?

Whispering in my ears

Is it emotions?  Is it illusions?

I need to be with you