#he definitely runs down the hall with socks on and hits the wall

[eleanorenchanted]

If ADHD was a human being

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

The Clown

Pairing: Jason Todd (version unspecified) x F!Reader

Warnings: kidnapping, injury, mentions of death

Word count: 1273

A/N: Here’s part 11 of castle of glass! This is partly build up for the next chapter, which is going to be a lot longer. But I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Ko-Fi

Y/N’s head spun as she started to come around. The throbbing told her she’d been hit over the head rather than drugged. She hated that she knew that, but Luthor’s men had hit her over the head when they grabbed her, whereas Jason had given her a strong sedative when him and Dick were fighting over the cowl. That time when she woke, her head had felt full of cotton wool, but it wasn’t exactly painful.

This was definitely painful.

She managed to force her eyes open but it took another minute or so for her vision to clear enough to take in the room around her.

It was dimly lit, the only the light coming from a small window at the very top of one of the walls. There was a wardrobe against one wall and a row of mirrors above built in tables along the others. While she had never really been a drama kid, it was all the information she needed to know she was in some kind of dressing room. She knew enough of the Joker’s MO to narrow it down from there; the only abandoned theatre that was still standing in Gotham was in the Bowery. The only reason she knew that was because Jason once talked about helping out some kids who had been living in it before they got kicked out by the police.

But the Bowery was Jason’s territory.

Her heart stuttered in her chest because the Joker keeping her here, the Joker willing choosing the place himself in the middle of the Red Hoods territory couldn’t be good. Either he was planning something that involved Jason finding them, or he thought putting them right under Jason’s nose was the best possible hiding place.

She pushed herself up so she was sitting and tried to ignore the throbbing in her head. She could practically hear Dick in her head talking her through what to do if she found herself in this situation, again. She started with what was on her person. Her hands were tied together with thick, scratchy ropes and she’d been stripped of her jacket and her shoes and socks. That left her in her jeans and one of Jason’s oversized t-shirts. The lack of shoes and socks would make it difficult if she tried to run, and they’d taken the gun and holster with her jacket, leaving her with nothing useful on her person.

So that left whatever was in the room.

At a first glance, the room was pretty barren. It looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, and from what she could remember about the date the theatre shut, that was probably an accurate estimation. The dressing tables were covered in a thick layer of dust and she sent it flying as she grabbed onto the edge to push herself to her feet.

Her head spun and she had to push down the urge to throw up. She was showing more than one symptom of a concussion, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Not when she had no idea when someone would come to check on her.

She used the table for balance as she first tried the door to the room. It was locked, as expected and she was in no position to try and break it down. So she walked back across the room and pulled open the wardrobe doors. It was empty apart from some old metal coat hangers, but they were better than nothing so she pulled them out and started untwisting the wires to make it more useful.

Her head was till throbbing when she heard voices coming down the hall. She stumbled to the side of the door and pressed her back against the wall. She knew it was probably hopeless, could practically hear Dick screaming in her head about staying alive and waiting for him, but she couldn’t just sit pretty and let the clown think he could just use her against Jason.

“Wakey, wakey little bird.�� He broke off into his cackling laughter and she heard the key turn in the lock.

She knew he wouldn’t be the first into the room, so she let the first guard pass her silently, only moving when she saw purple fabric. She slammed her entire body into him, forcing him back into the wall and put all her body weight behind the twisted ends of the coat hangers. She felt his skin give way as the metal sank further and felt something akin to pride swell in her chest. But it didn’t last long before someone grabbed her and a right hook to her jaw sent her spiralling to the floor.

“The little bird has more fight than I thought.” The Joker laughed.

A foot connected with her ribs, forcing the air out of her lungs, and she curled into a ball to protect herself from further hits. But she still smiled, even with the blood staining her mouth, and used the position to shove the phone she had grabbed from his pocket into her waistband without any of them seeing. “Go to hell, asshole.”

He knelt down on the floor in front of her, his crimson stained lips pulling up into a grimace of a smile. He brushed the blood from her lip almost caringly, even when she flinched back. “I can see why the birdies like you, why he likes you. Why he’s finally letting himself be happy.”

“Why’d hate him so much? He never did anything to you.” She said, tasting blood on her tongue.

“Oh no, I don’t hate him, little bird. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Batman needed to see he wasn’t as invulnerable as he believed.” He cackled again. “And now, he’s the only one who is any fun anymore, I can’t have you ruining that.” He looked at the crimson stain on his white gloves and she wasn’t sure if it was her blood or his. “Sit tight, little bird, we’ll be back soon. And if you try anything like that again, well maybe I’ll give you a taste of what he went through in that warehouse.”

She didn’t move until they had all left and the door shut again. But as soon as it did, she pulled the phone back out and cracked the passcode as fast as she could. She didn’t know how much time she had before the clown noticed his phone was missing and she needed to get a message out before he did.

It took longer than she would have liked to crack it, lying on the floor with her head and ribs throbbing. But once she was in she went straight for the messaging app and typed in the emergency number her and Dick both had committed to memory in case the worse happened. It took slightly longer to type out the message as she tried to remember the whole code with her head swimming. Eventually though, she managed to type it all out and hit send.

Not a moment too soon either because she only just managed to fling the phone across the room, into a dark corner when the door flung open again.

“Oh, little bird, whatever you did, you’re going to regret it.”

Part 12

Taglist: @fives-coffee-cup​​​​ @xnorthstar3x​​​​ @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx​​​​ @literally-a-ferret​​​​ @thomaslefteyebrow​​​​ @elleclairez​​​​ @shimmeringgrim​​​​ ​ @throw-away-shifting-journal​​​​ @egglantine23​​​​ @elleraelockwood​​​​ @dcgoddess​​​​ @snapchatisoverrated​​​​ @elisa20beth​​​​ @phoenixgurl030​​​​ @collaps3r​​​​ @simonsbluee​​​​ @pariahsparadise​​ ​@lydiaisgeeky​​ @ashyvillain​​ @missdayytona @synoname-wordsmith @xxeiraxx @shadowmoonbeam @starlight-in-the-streets @marss-anonymous

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[ralyks-uwu]

Scrooge McDuck x Reader | Unspoken Games (Pt I of II)

A/N: Hi everyone! Been chaotic the past couple months, I promise to be releasing more fics on a consistent basis, I have four separate blogs, but everything is going to be condensed for easy access on my AO3 (link pending). My tumblr is more for rough writings, to get an idea on audience and such. However, this is one of my more polished fics. I hope y’all enjoy <3

Word Count: ~ 1,916

“For the last time Scrooge I am NOT your secretary!” Mrs. Beakly’s slammed her hands down on the kitchen table, all of the kitchenware rattling aggressively. Louie had to catch the pitcher of orange juice before it fell.

“Perhaps it’s time for you to finally

retir-“ Duckworth spoke arrogantly

She picked up a plate and threw it against the wall, successfully going through Duckworth and shattering to pieces. “I can’t help it you can’t multitask—“

“Put a sock in it Duckworth” she spats

“Come now twenty two there’s no need to get—“ Scrooge gestures nonchalantly

“I have someone coming to your office at noon for you to interview to be your new secretary. I am too busy keeping this house together as is, this is the least you can do for me or so help me scrooge I will take all 235 PAID vacation days off starting right now” she glares at him

“You wouldn’t” he points a finger

“Try me” she crosses her arms

“Fine…. LAUNCHPAD” he shouts

“Mr.McD Sir!” Launchpad appears in a salute stance, “Ready the car.” He says exasperatedly, slowly pushing his chair back with a loud screech.

Huey, Dewey, Louie and Webby get up following after him. “Can we come too?!” Webby asks excitedly

He looks back at Mrs Beakly who is staring at him tapping her foot impatiently. “…fine.” He mutters ushering them all out the door.

——————————————-

Unimpressed with the interior of the place you push the elevator button and climb in, gum popping in your mouth as the doors shut. Paying no mind to the two kids on the other side of said elevator, or so they thought.

Webby and Dewey were having a conversation with their eyes, yet physically hitting each other back and forth in disagreement.

Entering the main hall you spot a kid in a green hoodie attempting to get a Pep. “Hey kid, where’s Scrooge’s office?”

“Why should I tell y—“

Swiftly you reach into your pockets, “I’ll give you twenty dollars” before waving the money in his face.

“Down the hall to the left” he shrugs taking the money. “He’s in a meeting right now though” he offers up more information carelessly

“Hm. Thanks Louie” you wave already walking off in the direction of his office.

“Wait how did—“

“Oh that’s definitely Scrooge’s new secretary” Dewey and Webby say at the same time, having followed you out of the elevator quietly.

You knock on his office door quietly, staring at the little packets of mail shoved into a metal file container hanging just left of the door. You glance at your watch before deciding to pick it up and bring it with you inside, taking care to sift through it. “Hm. Death threat, Death threat, a bill, Death threat, invitation?”

The little red one opened the door, “Ah Huey, good timing. Where’s McDuck?” you ask stepping into his office, looking around.

“He’s—“

“Right here.” the man of the hour comes out of the bin and locking the safe swiftly behind him. “ Huey run along dear” You smile at Huey softly. His mouth was hung open in awe at your beauty, “Wow—“

“Here take everyone with you, Go get an icecream or something yeah? 20$ should cover it right?” You hand him the bill, without a second thought, before turning around to face Scrooge.

The door behind you clicked opened and you could hear Huey crash into the wall before managing to slip out of the room.

“Met my nephews have you?” he said, with a thick scottish accent, as he rounded the side of his desk to sit.

“Not formally, no.” you shrug taking a seat across from him, seemingly very relaxed.

“Ms—“

“Y/n, just y/n” you extend your hand across the desk, “a pleasure”.

“Whats a lass like you doing here, trying to work for me?” he asks examining you intensely.

“Mrs. B cashed in a favour, to say the least” you shrug tossing your hair back.

“ah so she hand picked ya did she?”

“mm something of the sort. I didn’t really have much elsewhere to go anyways, and from the sound of it, she was quite desperate for a break” you adjust your position in your seat.

“Yes so i’ve heard” he pouts, “Well my schedule is quite unpredictable. I have zero set dates and everything changes constantly.”

You shrug, “I’m sure you’ll find I’m quite capable” you say plucking a stray feather from your arm.

“And your qualified too, I take it…?” he asks curiously

“Overqualified actually. Some would also say I’m the best at games.” you lean back, having successfully manipulated yourself into the chance of a pay raise.

His eyes widen with interest, “Your hubris will be your downfall”

“State your terms McDuck” you lean forward in anticipation.

“You can pick any game, if I win you have to take a 75% pay cut”

“If I win,” you grin “you’ll double my wages”

“Clever girl, deal” he extends his hand out to you, which you excitedly shake on.

“I don’t suppose you play Go?”

“I do actually”

“Good.” you stand sliding your long coat off your body to reveal a decent sized back pack. Pulling out the whole set with ease.

“Ready? Go!”

—————————————-

Hours and hours had passed and you both were now just walking through the doors of the manor, the kids already having returned home hours ago. “You’re quite the opponent”

“finally met your match aye scrooge?” you wink at him. He rolls his eyes laughing quietly as he adjusts his tie. “Perhaps lass, but don’t let it go to your head” he teases.

“Finally, we were beginning to worry Scrooge” Mrs. Beakly rolls her eyes gently pushing them to the kitchen. “At least you’re on time for dinner, hello y/n”

“Hello Mrs. B, thank you for inviting me” you bow to her

“always a pleasure dear”

You slide off your coat and your bag by the door, carefully removing your shoes as well. Following Scrooge into the kitchen, “Wow dinner looks amazing” you say sitting to the left of him.

It wasn’t anything grand, just an average pasta dish, but to you it looked like it could be from a Michelin star restaurant.

“I should probably have introduced myself instead of ominously saying your names. Though I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now. I’m y/n.” you smile at the kids and Duckworth the ghost butler, prying your hungry eyes away from the feast before you.

“Ms Y/n have you ever been on an adventure?”

“Y/n how did you know all of our names and how to tell us apart?!”

“Where did you get all this money from?!”

“Are you single?”

Everyone pauses at Huey’s question, and stare at him shocked, to which you awkwardly clear your throat.

“Um, yes I have been on several adventures, I can tell you guys apart quite easily actually mostly by hairstyles and outfits, I earned it by selling my inventions, and i am unsure why that is relavent but yes I am single?” you rattle off sequentially, your eyes crinkling shut in joy at their shared interest in your personal life.

Duckworth threw a butterknife towards you like a dart, your eyes snap open and you move your head calmly to the left, raising your eyebrow as the knife embeds itself into the wall behind you. “What a peculiar greeting Duckworth.” You look over at him with amusement twinkling in your eye. “Hm.. Good reflexes Ms. y/n, most impressive for a newbie.”

“Mr. McD, Little ones, Y/n, Mrs. B, Duckworth, Donald” Launchpad nods and sits next to Mrs Beakly.

“Did ya get lost Launchpad?” you grin and he laughs, “Yes I did!”

The evening faded out into a dull murmur from the kitchen, the family felt almost whole.

——————————————-

It had been weeks since you settled in, and your friendship with Scrooge was beginning to blur into the lines of a relationship.

“You are extremely off schedule—“ You pull the giant drapes aside, letting the light fill the room. “darling wake up” You say tugging the covers off of scrooge’s body. “What did you just call me?” he whines sitting up, “Old man?”

“No no, you said ‘darling’”

“Did I?”

“You did.”

“No I didn’t”

“didn’t you?”

“You hit your head or somethin?” you say grabbing his head, snapping your fingers in front of his eyes.

“No, you totally said—“ you try to make him count how many fingers you’re holding up but he smacks your hand out of the way. “For goodness sakes y/n you definitely—“

You put your hand up to his head and sigh, “You’re running a fever”

“What? Scrooge McDuck does NOT get sick”

“Hm, maybe not but you definitely need to rest and relax” you head to the bathroom and begin to get his clothes gathered.

“Honestly scrooge you might as well give me a ring, im like your wife with how much I do for you without pay”, you roll your eyes.

“You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you lass?” he jests halfheartedly as he coughs, stepping into the room.

“Maybe a little bit” You laugh, as you begin to draw him a bath. “Would help me get more money”

“you’re the one that agreed to the pay cut wager on day one” he shrugs looking down as the water slowly fills the tub.

“Aye. A deals a deal” you nod double checking the temperature.

“honestly y/n I’m fine” he whines

You stand up and circle him like a shark, “You’re positive?”

“Completely….” he pouts

“Nope nope, you can hear it clear as day in your throat you’re sick”

“Y/n I have important business—“

“I can take care of it”

“What? Nonsense-”

“Look, nothing too important. The vultures are just looking for a chat, and I’m quite persuasive so I’m sure I can get them to let ya continue doing as you please with the money you earn.” You internally cringe considering how much money he takes from other regions of the world without a penny going to those natives. Capitalistic greedy bastard.

“You’re my star employee, y’know that y/n?”

“Oh please don’t let Duckworth hear you say that” you grin. “Clean clothes, take it easy, relax. I’m going to go make some soup.”

“You could just have Twenty-Two do it—“

“Absolutely not, she put me in charge of all things related to you, that woman needs a break and a raise” you wave him off with your hand whilst walking away.

———————————————————

Is this house ever quiet? You sigh avoiding Webby’s carefully placed traps, and the boys running around shouting. When Huey trips into you, you happened to catch him in one hand, and keep the soup steady in the other.

“Easy red, Webby put a trap in that corridor” you warn with a wink. “Y-Y/n—“ he says in awe

“Jeez kid you make me feel like im a god or something” you tease “don’t be so tense around me okay? I’m friendly I swear “ you laugh

“are you and uncle scrooge?” he trails off

“Hm..Ask me in a week, I think I’m winning so far but we’ll see” you ruffle his hair and replace his hat on his head, leaving him utterly confused.

“Okay, so can we all agree scrooge and y/n are clearly attracted to eachother” Webby says dropping down from the ceiling.

You hear Huey’s scream echo in the corridor and shake your head in amusement.

[desertfangs]

WIP Wednesday!

It's Wednesday again somehow! I'm not a scientist, I don't know how time works, I only know it's a good day to share a snippet of something I am working on.

This is inspired by one of the prompts sent to me (thank you all so much!) in which Daniel finally goes to Court after not seeing Armand for months and uh.... you know how it is when you don't see someone for a while! There's a little bit of a plot to this, too, and Lestat gets involved (of course he does!) but for now, I'll just leave you with this:

The meeting continued. Daniel tried to pay attention but under the table, Armand began messaging his leg with his sock-covered foot. He rubbed his toes against Daniel’s ankle and calf in slow, deliberate motions. Daniel tried to keep his expression even and not let what little blood he had inside him rush to his cheeks. The more Armand’s foot tried to crawl up the leg of his pants, the more convinced Daniel became the leather was definitely for his benefit, and he longed for the meeting to end so they could go somewhere private.

They’d had no time last night to do more than kiss in the car ride to the Chateau, and being in such close proximity to him again made Daniel eager to get his hands all over him. 

The moment the meeting was over, Armand grabbed Daniel’s wrist and hurried him out the door. Daniel saw Marius trying to catch his eye but he’d have to catch up with him later. There’d be time. At the moment, all that mattered was following Armand, whose leather pants were tight around his ass and thighs as he pulled Daniel down the hall. They turned a corner, finally coming to a door that Armand pulled open before shoving Daniel inside. 

It was some kind of janitorial closet but the shelves were mostly empty, save for some rags and bottles of cleaner. The back of the closet held no shelves and was just a bare stone wall. Armand shut the door and stood in front of Daniel, taking him in. 

The closet had no light but vampire vision allowed him to see Armand clearly: the way those pants hugged tightly to his thighs, the line of his torso under the soft fabric of his shirt. The way his gaze raked Daniel over like a caress. He resisted the urge to straighten his tie or run his fingers through his ashen hair in a futile attempt to straighten it out. 

Armand’s auburn hair fell loose around his pale face, a fiery mane, and his eyes were bright. Daniel’s attention turned back to the leather necktie and he swallowed, thinking of all the ways Armand might put it to use. Armand crossed the entire length of the closet in two quick steps. 

“You like my outfit,” Armand said. It wasn’t a question. 

“I didn’t realize they’d opened a goth club here at the Chateau,” Daniel said. Armand’s expression hardened at the joke. Daniel wasn’t sure why he’d even said it. He didn’t care why Armand was dressed like that, he only wanted to run his hands all over those leather pants and tear that shirt off of him to get at his throat. 

He waited for the admonishment or some kind of punishment—he could think a lot of ways Armand might reprimand him for his insolence, all of them delicious—but Armand grabbed him by his face and kissed him. The kiss caught Daniel off guard and he stumbled backward until he hit the wall, Armand moving with him, pressing into him as his tongue probed Daniel’s mouth. His fingers dug into Daniel’s hair and scalp, holding him close even as he pushed his body against Daniel’s. 

God, Daniel had missed him.

----

I won't tag anyone, but consider this a universal tag to share what you're working on today!

[lavenderbexlatte]

one more time

stray kids 2k words female reader insert Reader x 3RACHA (bang chan focus) fluff/SFW

🖤 warnings: they’re back 😌✌ happy 2 years of more & more (june 14, 2020) 🖤

Series Masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

The most routine, seemingly insignificant tasks in life are so much better with company.

Laundry, for example.

Every piece of the process is just a menial task. Loading machines, watching them wash and spin and wring, folding the warm garments and linens fresh from the dryer. It’s repetitive to the point of being tedious, but it’s necessary. And intimate, somehow.

Maybe it’s because bedding and underwear and towels are things that aren’t usually shared or shown off, not usually part of anyone’s public face. But when you go to a laundromat, like you have to do since your apartment has a washer but not a dryer, everyone else in the room gets a peek at that bit of your life. The intimate, on display. You’ve definitely watched your fair share of tumbling dryers, gazed mindlessly at the multicolored socks and t-shirts waterfalling around the drum of the machine.

A necessary evil, laundry. It’s better with company.

Your cheap sandals squeak against the tile laundromat floor as you wrestle your sheets out of the washing machine and pile them into a front-loading dryer in the very corner of your local laundromat. One headphone in, music playing, the low hum of machines all around. It’s your Sunday routine, every few weeks, when even your spare sheets have been run through and you can’t put off the chore any longer.

One of your freshly-washed pillowcases falls loose as you untangle your duvet cover from the mess of wet fabric, and you curse silently, fumbling for it before it hits the dirty floor.

Luckily, Chan beats you to it.

He leans down with a neat one-handed grab, saving you from having to wash the stupid thing all over again. Right on time, like always.

“Good catch,” you grin.

He hands you the wet pillowcase, and you stuff it into the dryer with the rest. When you glance up again, hands busy with digging the change out of your bag to pay for this last load, Chan has his phone screen tilted towards you.

“Chicken’s on the way,” he tells you, by way of explanation.  

“We gotta start making better choices.”

“We got fries. That’s a vegetable.”

You feed the last of the coins in your wallet into the dryer and start it up before you answer, “Better financial choices.”

“That’s what Changbin is for.”

“Spoiling us with chicken money?”

It’s Chan’s turn to smile. “Supplementing our bad decisions.”

“Good to know there’s a practical reason for keeping him around,” you tease.

“He keeps us around, and he does it only out of pure pity and you know that,” Chan replies.

“I dunno,” you say, draping yourself into one of the stiff folding chairs that the laundromat keeps around for customers, “We’re pretty fun.”

“Is this your definition of fun?” He gestures broadly at the mostly-empty machines lining the wall in front of you, the out-of-date TV that drones some news program.

It’s a valid question, but he already knows the answer.

“Yeah,” you say, honest.

“Hm.” Chan nudges your leg with the toe of one of his slides. “Mine too.”

The two of you don’t usually talk much during your laundromat days. Chan brings his laptop sometimes to work on songs for himself and the guys, or finish up loose ends from his part-time job. You nearly always have your phone out and your headphones on, and today’s no exception, as you scroll through your Instagram feed and tap your foot to the beat of a song Chan himself had recommended to you.

It’s enough just to be there together.

When you return to your shared apartment nearly an hour later with armfuls of clean laundry vacuum-sealed into plastic bags for safekeeping on the walk home, the chicken is waiting outside your front door.

“Whole hall smells like chicken now,” you say, as you push the door open with your full hands.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he grins.  

The laundry goes onto the bare mattress in your bedroom, and the two of you go to the tiny combination living room/kitchen to settle into your usual spots on your squashed little sofa. Sure, the responsible thing is to remake the bed before the linens wrinkle up from being packed away like that, but there’s chicken to eat.

You don’t really know the YouTuber that Chan queues up to watch while the two of you eat, but it doesn’t matter. He watches intently, one gloved hand working methodically and absent-mindedly through the box of fried chicken, and you watch him.

It’s way more interesting to watch his face as the reaction channel’s feature talks through the finer points of some music video, to watch the pile of bones grow on the plate in front of him at an impressive rate. You get to enjoy two of your favorite little things about him at once: his single-minded focus on his passions, and his appetite.

His phone buzzes, right as the pile is threatening to topple over, and Chan peels off his plastic glove to answer it.

“Text?” you ask, fishing around the container of fries.

“Jisung,” he replies.

“What now?”

“Reminding us about date night on Tuesday,” he reports. “Thinks we’re gonna forget.”

“For sure. We only do date night every single week,” you say dryly.

“He thinks we’re gonna forget that it’s me and him, and you and ‘Bin, this time,” Chan amends.

You hum. “Oh, I’ve been looking forward to it, don’t you worry.”

“Sick of me, yeah?”

“Just a little.”

Chan regards you for a second, and then snatches the entire container of French fries out from under your hand.

“Hey!” you protest.

You reach for your food, leaning as far over him as you can, but his stupidly long arms and quiet determination are coming in handy for once.

“If you’re bullying me, you don’t get fries that I paid for,” he tells you soberly, holding the box just out of your reach.

“Those are my reward for doing my laundry!”

“Sorry, gotta pay the fine if you want them back.”

You know what he means. He’s so stupid.

“This is stupid,” you tell him.

He just looks at you flatly, expectantly, one eyebrow raised, fries still held hostage as he lounges beside you.

“Fine.”

You lean in and peck a kiss to the side of his face. A smile (stupid, like you knew it would be) spreads across his face, as you wrench your fries back and resume leisurely picking through them.

“Changbin never should have taught you that,” you grumble.

“I think the kiss fine is a great idea and everyone should do it,” he disagrees.

“It’s cute when he does it.”

Chan looks indignant. “And not when I do it?”

“No comment.”

“You’re really asking for it now.”

But despite the good-natured threats, the rest of the meal passes in peace, and Chan offers to clean up while you get started on your bed. You suspect that he just doesn’t want to wrestle with the fitted sheet this time, and you can’t blame him. It’s your bed, after all.

The apartment has two tiny bedrooms, and you and Chan each have one for your own. It’s proven much more useful to have separate spaces rather than sharing like you’d considered doing, since the two of you don’t exactly work or sleep on the same schedule. There’s always something going on, Changbin and Jisung coming and going as they please, work video calls and all-nighters, and not having to bother each other over every little thing has made the precarious cohabitation incredibly easier.

Your room is a tight fit, with a slightly larger double bed that’s usually holding at least one other person besides yourself, and you have to edge your way around the bedframe on tiptoe to hook the fitted sheet around the corners of the mattress.

It’s always such a struggle to remake a bed, but you make decent headway on your own. The fitted sheet goes on relatively easy, and you’re attempting to stuff the duvet back into its cover when Chan comes in.

“Give me a hand?” you ask, halfway buried inside the warm, fresh-smelling duvet cover as you attempt to match the corners.

“Yeah, sure.”

That’s what he says, but what he does is the opposite of helpful.

He pulls the duvet cover off your head where you’d draped it for easy access to the inner seam, bundles both the linen and you into his arms, and drops down onto the bed. It’s just shy of a tackle, honestly, and he settles you onto your back in your nice neatly remade bed like some kind of heathen whose cuddling agenda trumps common sense.

“Chan!”

“Shhh,” he placates, “Lemme just-”

“I was almost done, you couldn’t wait another minute and a half?”

You can actually hear his pout as he snipes back, “Nope.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

You’re doing your best to sound annoyed, but Chan’s wrapping himself around you like a big comfortable koala, and the scent of fabric softener is gentle and reassuring, and you can’t help but relax.

“Making the bed properly is overrated,” Chan informs you. “We should just go to bed.”

“You hate sleeping,” you deadpan.

“I’m just bad at it.”

“You don’t even have to make the bed. Just let me finish doing it.”

“But we’re already laying down,” he reasons.

“Let me up.”

Chan obliges, letting you wriggle your way out of the makeshift duvet burrito, but once you’re lying on top of the covers instead, he looms over you again.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he says somberly.

“Forgotten what?”

“You saying I’m not cute.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” he nods, “I’m very cute.”

There’s a flush high on his cheeks and a smile threatening to break out on his lips that betrays how much he doesn’t quite believe what he’s saying, but he’s doing a pretty good job with the stoic offended act. He sits back, avoiding eye contact, embarrassment tinging his features even as he commits to the bit.

“Say it,” he prods.

“Pardon?”

“Say I’m cute.”

You wonder when your boyfriends switched bodies, because this could easily be Changbin, and could even be Jisung on a sleep-deprived day, but it sure as hell isn’t a common Chan thing. It’s laughably adorable that he’s going this hard, but you can’t let him win so easily.

“You’re cute when you don’t steal Changbin’s gimmicks,” you say.

“No qualifiers!” he complains.

“You’re cute when you let me finish my chores before you jump me,” you say, instead.

“You don’t take instructions very well.”

You grin. “Well, I mean”-

“No, no, don’t start!”

He’s fully talking through his pout now, and it’s almost enough to break you.

“I called you cute, what more do you need?” you ask.

“More!” he insists.

“That’s not specific.”

Even so, you haul yourself up and climb right into his lap so that you’re face to face. He looks surprised to find you there, even though he’s the one who started this.

“Cute,” you tell him.

He tilts his head to one side. “Cuter than Changbin?”

“This isn’t a competition,” you say, “And if it was, Jisung would win.”

Chan makes a little noise of agreement, letting that smile that he’s been holding back this whole time inch out. “That’s true but I don’t have to like it.”

You lean in and kiss the very tip of his nose. “You’re still cute.”

“More,” he says again.

“Very cute,” you answer, punctuating it with a kiss on his lips, this time.

It’s a quick chaste kiss, but Chan follows your mouth as you pull back, looking just a bit dazed.

“More.”

Ah.

You settle more firmly into his lap, and you can feel his hips rising ever so slightly to meet you, his hands tightening around your waist. A gentle peck becomes a real kiss, tugging his plush bottom lip between your teeth indulgently as you go.

The next one is just a breath against your open mouth, a sound that you’ll never stop loving no matter how often you hear it.

“More.”

to be continued~ 💕

[btschooseafic]

house of hope/chapter 25/pack grounds

Pairing: OT7 x Reader, OT7 x OT7

Details: hybrid!bts, a/b/o dynamics, asexual!reader

Summary: You visit the place where Namjoon grew up.

Warnings: The recognizable names and personalities do not reflect their real life counterparts. prejudice, past abuse, violence, self doubt, perfectionism, injury [Masterlist]

You drove out before sunrise, so you could reach the farm early in the morning. You struggled to pay attention as Taehyung spoke to the farmer about the local soil. Yoongi wordlessly handed you the thermos of coffee he’d been sipping on. You kissed his cheek. Yoongi shot the farmer a wary look, but he was focused on Taehyung. Yoongi let out a breath of relief that clouded in the cool air. Hoseok shivered, wrapping his arms more thoroughly around Jimin, who was watching Taehyung and the farmer, taking notes with the colorful markers you’d bought Jungkook for his birthday. Jungkook was leaning against Jimin’s side, scribbling in the margins. Jungkook caught your eye and tilted the notebook, showing you a doodle of Tae in a farmer’s hat. You held back a giggle.

You arrived at the gate to the pack grounds in the late afternoon. There was an intercom. You lowered your window, breathing in the cold air and the smell of sun soaked pine. Next to you, Namjoon’s nose twitched. You wondered what it smelled like to hybrid senses. You wondered what it smelled like to someone who had grown up here.

You stretched your arm out. Jimin laughed.

“Your arm’s too short!”

You rolled your eyes and undid your seatbelt so you could lean out the window and hit the intercom button.

“Hi—um, it’s [F/N]. I have, um, Namjoon with me… and vegetables.”

“We’ll take the vegetables. You can keep Namjoon,” Kyungmin’s voice came crackling over the intercom.

“Yah!” Namjoon muttered. Jimin laughed again.

Hoseok stared at Namjoon’s back, eyes glinting. “Oh, we plan on it!”

Namjoon smiled, his cheeks tinting pink.

Kyungmin stepped out from behind the opening gate and then squeezed into the back of the van as you continued down the path. Namjoon frowned out the window.

“Mom said there was a road now, but I didn’t think…”

“There’s a wall around the perimeter, with a big iron gate as an entrance.” Kyungmin shrugged. “It’s not bad, in terms of defense.”

“I guess… but they cut so many trees down,” Namjoon said sadly.

“You and your trees,” Kyungmin muttered.

“I’m a wolf, am I not supposed to like nature?” He grumbled.

“They’re definitely siblings,” Taehyung thought, smiling as he watched them. You nodded.

*

You pulled into a large parking lot. There was a small group of people waiting for you. Jin introduced himself, asking for their names, and what kind of dishes they planned to make with Taehyung’s vegetables. Kyungmin instructed them to carry the crates to the dining hall. There were a few buildings in the area, none of them more than three stories high. Namjoon looked around frowning.

“It’s changed so much. Even the ground…” He poked the toe of his sneaker against the asphalt.

“Some things haven’t changed,” Kyungmin said. “It still smells the same.” Namjoon nodded slowly.

“The air is really fresh and clean here,” Hoseok thought, sniffing.

“It’s great!” Taehyung agreed, beaming. “Oh wow, I bet it would feel so good to shift and run around!” He suddenly pulled off his jacket and handed it to you. Then he sat down on the ground and started pulling off his shoes and socks.

Kyungmin blinked at him. “Um…”

Namjoon sighed. “Just… just ignore him.”

Taehyung started undoing his belt. “Yah! Don’t start getting undressed in public!” Jin protested, his ears flaming.

“Tae Tae…” Jimin’s tone was half laughing, half scolding.

“Are all of you okay sleeping in tents?” Kyungmin asked Namjoon. Jin pulled Taehyung to his feet. “We’ve got heaters, but it’s still—“

“Holy shit! That’s hot!” Taehyung danced from side to side, trying not to burn his bare feet on the midday asphalt.

“…Cold,” Kyungmin finished, her lips twitching.

Jungkook picked Taehyung up and placed him on the hood of the van. Taehyung laughed. Jin took Taehyung’s jacket from you and draped it over his shoulders.

“Will it really be so funny when I have to defrost you with a hairdryer?” Jin said. Taehyung laughed so hard he nearly fell off the hood of the car. You hovered near him with your hands out. Hoseok handed him his socks with a pointed look.

“We’ll be fine,” Namjoon told Kyungmin, smiling as he watched Yoongi throw Taehyung’s shoes at him. “What’s the latest update on housing in general?”

“Well, we’ve repurposed the largest building into communal housing—not much to change except for, like, comfort and aesthetics, but we’re planning for more single unit, and sub-pack dens like we used to have. The old ones were torn down.”

Namjoon’s brow furrowed. “You mentioned. What are the plans for—“ He broke off, his ears perking up as he looked forward. More people were approaching, a woman leading the group. Taehyung quickly shoved his feet halfway into his shoes and scrambled off the hood of the car.

“Son.”

Namjoon had inherited his mother’s intense gaze.

“Mother…” Namjoon choked out. “Father…” He had inherited his father’s height. Yoongi nudged his side against Namjoon’s. “Ah, guys, this is Kyunghee, Pack Leader… and my mother. And Sanghoon, her mate, and the pack’s Lead Strategist.”

“And don’t forget your aunts and uncles!” Another man cut in.

“Of course not!” Namjoon said. “Uncle Woosung, Auntie Haejin—I’m glad you made it home.”

“And you too, Namjoonie,” Woosung said, beaming at him. “Look at the size of your new pack—will they be joining us officially?”

“That’s a lot of housing to figure out,” Haejin muttered.

“We already have a den, actually,” Namjoon said. “It’s… I don’t think we’ll be leaving it any time soon, but I’ll be sure to visit as much as I can, once….” He trailed off, blushing.

“Once you’re mated?” Haejin guessed. Namjoon nodded. “Which of them…?”

“All of us, actually,” Jin put in. “I’m Seokjin, the eldest.” He bowed.

“Six potential mates.” Woosung let out a low whistle, which made several people nearby flinch. “You’ve done well for yourself, kid.”

“Ah, seven potential mates, actually,” Namjoon said, his hand resting on your lower back. Woosung froze. Haejin raised an eyebrow. Murmurs rose up in the small gathered crowd. Jimin wrapped his arm around your shoulders, glaring around at everyone.

“Is that, ah, even possible?” Woosung wondered.

“Sure it is,” Haerin said. “Haven’t you heard about Nabi-yah and her human mate?”

Woosung squirmed slightly. “I’d thought that was only a rumor.”

“No, Nabi-yah is indeed mated to a human,” Kyunghee told him. “We visited them last month.”

“Their den is well built. They have shelter, food, and happiness with each other,” Sanghoon put in.

“Is that why she hasn’t joined us?” Woosung wondered, still eyeing you warily. “She is so happy with her mate, she doesn’t want to see her family anymore?”

“It’s not that,” Sanghoon said. “Rather… Nabi-yah is pregnant, so she didn’t want to risk traveling.”


“Nabi-noona is?” Namjoon’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“That’s what I said when I found out!” Kyungmin said, slapping his arm in agreement. “Nabi-unnie never seemed like the motherly type, but, I guess we were all kids the last time we spent any time together. She seems really excited about it…”

“What about you, human?” Woosung asked.

“Noona has a name,” Jimin hissed.

“The rest of you still haven’t introduced yourselves,” Kyunghee pointed out.

“Ah, sorry about that…” Hoseok bowed. “I’m Hoseok. This is Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, Yoongi, and [F/N].” He gestured at everyone in turn.

“Then, [F/N]-ssi,” Woosung said. “Am I going to be a Great Uncle any time soon?” Yoongi frowned, his tail curling around your leg.

“No,” Namjoon said bluntly.

“We are still rebuilding,” Kyunghee said. “It isn’t the best environment to be raising kids in.” Namjoon grunted. Kyunghee looked around at all of you. You and Jimin lowered your heads, but everyone else made it a point to hold her gaze, even Jin as his ears turned red. Kyunghee hummed. “Interesting how both of my children ended up with felines in their packs.” Yoongi tensed. Jimin’s ears turned downwards.

Kyungmin sighed. “Mom…”

“It’s a new age,” Sanghoon said. “A more diverse pack can mean a variety of strengths to face the various issues of being a pack in a modern society.”

“Exactly!” Namjoon beamed at his father.

Kyunghee nodded. “A fair point, dear.” She rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before turning to Namjoon. “Let me show you to your campground.”

*

“How do we choose who shares a tent?” Hoseok wondered. There were three tents set up around the small fire pit.

“Rock paper scissors?” Yoongi suggested. After several quick hand gestures, shouting, cheers and groans, the three youngest ended up sharing a tent, with you, Namjoon and Hoseok sharing another, and Yoongi and Jin sharing the third. Hoseok cuddled against you, grinning at Jimin, who was pouting.

Namjoon laughed. “We might as well have done it in age order.”

“Ah, it’s nice to have a little extra space,” Jin said, grinning at Yoongi, who nodded. Jimin glared at them. Taehyung laughed and hugged him from behind.

“What are we going to be doing today?” Hoseok asked Namjoon.

Namjoon blinked. “Huh?”

“Well, we’re going to help rebuild and stuff, right?” Hoseok said, nudging his side against Namjoon’s. Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck.

“You guys really don’t have to do that. You could just rest and enjoy the scen—”

“Nonsense,” Hoseok said. “Let’s find out what tasks are being done so we can see where we’ll be the most help. Namjoon-ah—what?”

Namjoon was smiling at him brightly.
“Nothing. I just… I never wanted to be the Pack Leader, and I still don’t want to be, but if I ever was, I think I wouldn’t do half bad, with you supporting me.”

Hoseok flushed and turned away. “Whatever, I just—Jungkook-ah! Why would you put that in your mouth?”

Slowly, Jungkook lowered the oddly shaped rock.
“Tae-hyung dared me?”

Hoseok rounded on Taehyung, who squeaked and moved to hide behind a giggling Jimin. “Noona was just watching and not saying anything!” Taehyung said, gesturing at you wildly. Hoseok frowned. You shrugged.

“It was amusing.”

“Who needs kittens when we’ve got a pack like this,” Jin thought.

Yoongi snorted. “You say that like you don’t act like the youngest most of the time.”

Jin shrugged. “I can’t help it that I’m gloriously youthful. You’ll be grateful for it when I’m old and still incredibly handsome, Yoongi-yah.”

“Sure, maybe,” Yoongi said. “But really it’s not your looks that I’m most grateful for. That’s just icing on the cake.” Jin’s ears turned pink again.

*

The eight of you went to the dining hall, where Sanghoon was going to hold a meeting soon. The room was filled with people you didn’t know, standing shoulder to shoulder. Yoongi interlocked his fingers with yours.

“I know you’re both feeling a bit anxious right now, but you’re also super cute,” Jimin commented, smiling.

“Thanks?” You said uncertainly. Yoongi hissed at him.

“Sunbae.”

You looked up at the familiar voice. Soobin waved. The person next to them smiled brightly.

“Hello! I’m Hawon—Soobin-sunbae and Kyungmin-unnie’s packmate.”

“Nice to meet you.” Yoongi dipped his head. “I’m Yoongi.”

“I know!” Hawon bounced slightly on the balls of her feet. Then she bowed. “Thank you for taking care of Soobin-sunbae all those years ago.”

Yoongi blinked as she straightened up.

“…No need to thank me.”

“And Namjoon-ssi, thank you for helping Kyungmin-unnie bring the pack back together.” Hawon bowed to Namjoon, and then to the rest of you. “And for the rest of your pack for continuing to support him throughout this process.”

Taehyung watched her with an unreadable expression on his face. Namjoon nodded slightly at her.

“The meeting is about to start,” he commented, looking up as his father made his way towards a gap in the crowd at the center of the room.

Sanghoon lay out the progress on various projects in the compound, and what steps they would be taking next. Then he placed clipboards on the table, so that people could sign up for what they were interested in helping with.

As people signed up, and the crowd started to disperse, Sanghoon made his way towards you.

“Namjoon-ah. We’ll need more people to join the hunt, if you’d be interested.”

Namjoon hesitated. “Dad. You know… I’ve never been on a hunt. I might not be that helpful.”

“I won’t judge you for a lack of experience. You never joined because you were too young before we were separated. That isn’t your fault. I’m happy to teach you.”


“If you would teach me as well, I’ll join,” Hoseok offered. Namjoon shot him a grateful look.

Sanghoon smiled at him. “We’d be glad to have you, Hoseok-ssi.” He looked around at the others. “And any other members of my children’s packs who would like to join.”

Soobin was the only other person who signed up for the hunt. Hawon, you, Taehyung, and Jimin signed up to help out the child and elderly pack members, while Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jin signed up to help with one of the construction projects.

*

You stayed in the dining hall, chatting with the elderly as you all shelled peas.

“Guess who needs a diaper change?” Taehyung singsonged as he walked into the room carrying the youngest child, who resembled an orange marshmallow in a puffy coat three times her size.

“Is it Taehyung-ah?” You pretended to wonder. Taehyung snickered.

“You’re older than me, you know, so it’s more likely I’d end up changing your diapers.”

You flushed. “It’s… you’re just a year younger!”
Taehyung kept laughing, walking across the room to the bathroom.

“Ah, to be young and in love!” One of the old women sitting near you mused. You jumped to your feet as an old man wheeled in a cart laden with dishes and silverware.

“Grandfather, let me help you!” You were helping the old man set the tables when Woosung came into the room with another cart laden with food. “Is that all?” You wondered.

“The kids and the elderly will eat lunch first, since a lot of the others are busy working at the moment, and this dinning hall isn’t the biggest,” the grandfather explained to you.

Woosung wheeled over to the table you were setting and placed a pot of rice down. The elderly woman squinted at him, her hands continuing to shell peas.

“Woosung-ah, you’re going to burn the table.”

“Ah, my apologies, grandmother.”

You held up a cloth napkin in a suggestion. Woosung lifted the pot again, and you laid the napkin on the table so he could place the pot on top of it.

“Good, good.” The elderly woman nodded. Woosung looked out the window, watching the kids play. He frowned.

“Where’s Jinjoo-yah?”

As if on cue, Taehyung came out of the bathroom.

“Ah, smells so much better!” He said in relief as he approached your table. “Noona, smell the baby!” He held her out to you. Big eyes blinked up at you. You sniffed the baby, humming in agreement and kissing her on the head. She gurgled. You tucked her hat over her human ears.

“Are you sure you won’t be having any pups anytime soon, [F/N]-ssi?” Woonsung asked. Taehyung frowned at him. “With the way you smell, you could start trying today!” Taehyung snarled. Jinjoo whined.

“Sorry,” Taehyung muttered, his ears drooping as he nuzzled her.

“Even half human kids wouldn’t be too bad,” Woosung continued. “That way Nabi-yah’s child won’t feel so lonely.”

The grandmother pressed her palms against the table, struggling to stand.

“I’ll go tell the kids that lunch will be ready soon.”

“Ah! Hold on!” Woosung grabbed her elbow.

“Don’t worry, grandmother!” Taehyung said. “Jinjoo-yah and me will do it!” He waved the baby’s hand at her as he headed to the door.

Woosung yelped as the grandmother slapped him over the back of his head.

“Don’t treat me like glass! And don’t pressure people to have kids!”

You smiled at her.

“Okay! Okay!” Woosung held his hands up. “I’m just… there are so few kids in this pack.”

“More will come, once their guardians are assured that this is a place of safety again,” the grandmother thought. “These things take time. Meanwhile, Namjoonie’s pack is already doing plenty for us.” You watched through the window as Taehyung called out to the other kids, dancing around with Jinjoo still in his arms. “Don’t take advantage of their kindness.” Woosung inclined his head towards you.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. The two of you stood in silence for a moment. “…Have you seen Jiminie around? I thought he was helping you get the food?”

“Ah, yes, he was, but I remembered we needed a highchair for Jinjoo, so he went to get one,” Woosung explained. His nose twitched. “Oh, that’s him now.”

You looked up and saw Jimin coming through the door carrying a highchair.

“There you are!” You rushed over to meet him.

“Hey.” Jimin pecked you on the check, looking around. “Where’s Tae Tae?”

“Getting the kids to come in.”

Jimin looked out the window. “He’s so good at this, isn’t he?” Jimin swore as the highchair fell apart. He glanced at the nearest table. “Ah, I mean… fudge…”

One of the elderly women snorted. “Oh, don’t mind us, kitty-cat, we’ve heard much worse over the years!”

Jimin giggled nervously as he looked down at the broken chair. 
“It’s okay.” You patted him on the shoulder. “It’s not broken, really, probably the strap was just loose.” You leaned over and put the chair back together, tightening the strap. “Yeah. This should still be safe to use. But let’s keep an eye out, just in case.”

Jimin sighed. “You’re good at this too.”

“Sorry?” You said uncertainly. Jimin frowned.

“Don’t apologize for being good at something!”

“Ah, Jimin-ssi,” Woosung said. “Could you help me bring the carts back to the kitchen?”

“I’ll help him,” you offered.

“Thank you,” Woosung said.

You and Jimin rolled the carts down the hall.

“I’m just a little jealous,” Jimin admitted quietly. “Tae… he used to watch after the kids at the showcase, you know?”

“He mentioned something like that.”

“Well, we both did. I was doing it for years, actually. I was good at playing with them, and comforting them a bit, but I wasn’t too good at getting them to behave, or cleaning up after them. And then Taehyungie came along… That’s how we met, actually,” he told you. You dropped the carts off at the kitchen. It was mostly quiet, one chef watching over a couple of simmering pots as someone else did some dishes. You started moving back the way you came, but Jimin grabbed your wrist. “Let’s, um, get some fresh air for a second.”

“Okay.” The two of you stepped out the backdoor, passing a smelly dumpster and turning the corner. You could see Hawon and Taehyung still wrangling the children in the distance. Taehyung handed Jinjoo off to Hawon and ran after the older kids. “You said maybe you and Tae bonded too quickly.”

“In some ways…” Jimin ran his hand through his hair. “But, if we hadn’t… It would’ve been easy for us to have never even met. We weren’t supposed to be let out of our enclosures, but the little ones cried if they were left alone too much, so the keepers let some of us into their enclosure, as long as we’d leave again when we were asked… We weren’t supposed to meet up outside of the children’s enclosure, but… I missed him. I knew how to pick the lock on the door…another child taught me when I was younger, but I’d never really felt like using it before. I felt like the risk wasn’t worth it…” Jimin watched Taehyung throw a kid up in the air and catch them again. “Until he came. I knew the night guard’s route, so I avoided him, and I followed Tae’s scent, and soon I was visiting him every night. By the time they realized we were mated, it was too late to separate us.” Jimin grinned. “They could beat us as much as they liked, but they couldn’t separate us unless they were willing to let us die, and well, that’s not a very good investment choice, right?” Jimin’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “Thank you…” He kissed the tears on your cheeks. “Thank you, but we’re alright now. More than alright.”

*

After lunch, you waved goodbye to Hawon.

“I’ll see you back here in a bit, [F/N]-ssi!” She said cheerfully. Both you and she had signed up for the dinner cooking shift.

You’d received word that the hunters had returned. The more experienced pack members would be butchering the meat, so you wouldn’t be needed until a while after that.

“Ah, looks like the others aren’t back yet,” Jimin said disappointedly, looking around your campsite. He blinked, and then laughed. “Tae Tae—you’ve got dirt on the side of your face!”

“What?” Taehyung went cross-eyed. “Where?”

“On the side, I said!” Jimin licked his thumb and started scrubbing. “You know…” Jimin glanced at you. “We haven’t had a grooming session in a while, you and me, noona.”

“She’s still weird about tongues,” Taehyung commented, as Jimin licked the side of his face. “I tried licking her the other day and she squeaked and hid behind Namjoonie-hyung. It was really cute…” Jimin pouted.

“I was hoping you might have gotten more used to the idea by now.”

You shrugged. “It just feels kind of…” Your nose wrinkled.
“But, you’ve had my tongue in your mouth,” Jimin pointed out.

“That’s still a little weird for me as well,” you admitted. Jimin wilted.

“Oh, well… okay. Putting aside grooming for now… if you don’t like kissing with tongues, you should really say something.”

“It doesn’t bother me, really. But I don’t think I like it that much either…” You waved your hands, trying to think about how to describe it. “Like, without tongues?—kissing is nice. Kind of a soft, sweet feeling? But with tongues is like… it gets a little tingly sometimes? And I don’t love it. I don’t hate it, but it’s not my preference.”

“Tingly?” Jimin repeated, his brow furrowing.

“Oh…” Taehyung tilted his head. “Do you think… maybe you’re getting turned on a bit and you don’t love that feeling?”

“Oh…” You and Jimin said at the same time. “Yeah, that could be it,” you thought.

“…I’m flattered,” Jimin said, smirking a bit. And then he shook his head. “Ah, but, I won’t do it, if it bothers you.”

“Maybe just not too much of it,” you suggested. “Like, sometimes, it’s okay, but…”

“We’ll take it on a case by case basis then,” Jimin decided. You frowned.

“Isn’t that annoying for you to have to ask all the time?”

Jimin shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Okay.” You smiled hesitantly. “Thank you.”

“Can I kiss you?” Jimin asked, leaning towards you. You nodded. “Tongue?” You paused, and then shook your head. Jimin’s closed mouth pressed against yours, once, twice, three times. Your eyes met and you both giggled.

“Still good?”

“Great, actually,” Jimin assured you. “I’m proud of you for telling me how you feel, love.” He tilted his head. He sniffed. “Hyung—why are you covered in blood?”

“Ah…” Hoseok walked towards you, grimacing and rubbing the back of his neck. He was shirtless, with a smear of dark red down his jaw, and another on the side of his neck.

Your stomach twisted. “What happened—do we have bandages?—we need—”


“Noona.” Taehyung squeezed your shoulders, bumping his head against yours. “It’s not his blood.” You blinked, your mouth parting slightly.

“It’s from the hunt,” Hoseok explained. “I wiped up best I could but… and the smell is lingering.” His nose wrinkled. “They said they have a good soap in the showers, so I’m heading there as soon as I get some clean clothes for me and Namjoonie… and my toothbrush.”


“…I’m trying to decide how I feel about this.” Taehyung studied him. “Like, a deep, primal part of me is like, ‘wow my mate is a great hunter, that’s good.’ But, I like animals, so it’s sad.”

“You grew up on a farm though?” Hoseok said uncertainly.

“Yeah, and did you see any animals around? We’re agricultural, hyung, that doesn’t involve slaughtering animals. Not that I’m going to criticize people for doing that, because I understand that is one way to live, but, like, I’m not used to it either.”

“Well, yeah. I grew up in the city, so it’s not something I’m used to either. But, Namjoon’s father said I picked it up quickly.” Hoseok blushed. Jimin smiled slightly.

“And then another part of me is like, ew, gross,” Taehyung concluded.

“Well, I feel gross,” Hoseok agreed. “And a little proud, and a little horrified. I won’t be doing that again, I think. Even if I did really appreciate the praise from Namjoon’s dad…” He entered your tent and came out a moment later with his stuff. “Ah, the smell is going to get all over everything while I carry it.” He whined.

“I could walk with you and carry the stuff,” you offered.

Hoseok smiled. “Would you really?”

You nodded. “I have some time before my next shift.”

*

So you walked with him, holding the clothes and toothbrushes.

“I’ll have to throw mine away after I use it,” Hoseok thought. You looked it him, wondering at the smudge on his jaw. Like Taehyung, part of you didn’t want to think about how it had gotten there, but the other part of you was curious. Hoseok shivered.

“Are you cold?”

Hoseok scratched his chest. “Not… cold, necessarily. I think the adrenaline from the hunt hasn’t worn off yet? More so I’m… a little… self conscious? I mean, hybrids don’t tend to care too much about nudity, but, you’re human, so…”

“I don’t mind,” you said. “As long as you’re okay with it.” He smiled again.

“Stop being so sweet when I can’t touch you. At this point I’m going to owe you so many hugs and kisses.”

You laughed. “I don’t mind that either.”

*

“The showers are in this building.” Hoseok pointed. The door opened. You heard raised voices. Hoseok stiffened.

“Do whatever you want—it’s not like you care about how I feel anyway,” Yoongi hissed as he hurried through the door and down the stairs.

“Hyung—it’s not like that!” Namjoon said, rushing after him. Soobin followed at a more measured pace. Namjoon reached out, but Yoongi backed away. Hoseok’s eyes flickered between them. Namjoon sighed, running his hand through his hair. His hair was dripping wet. He was dressed only in a towel wrapped around his waist. Namjoon glanced at you, flushing from his face all the way down his chest.

“Do you mind if I ask what’s going on?” You asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Yoongi bit out. “I do mind.” Hoseok frowned.

“Sunbae.” Soobin bowed slightly. Soobin was dressed, but their feet were bare, and their hair was twisted into a towel. “I apologize. I should have asked first. I didn’t think it would bother you.” Yoongi’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh sure. Why wouldn’t my old friend and my potential mate gossiping behind my back about how weak I am bother me?”

Namjoon frowned. “You’re not weak.”

“I’m not?” Yoongi pushed his bangs out of his face. “Both of you can…” He glanced at you and Hoseok and sucked air in through his teeth. “Both of you can… and I can’t. And that puts the people I care about at risk.”

“You won’t put us at risk,” Namjoon said. “We trust you.”

Yoongi scoffed. “Then you trust me more than I trust myself.”

“Maybe I do,” Namjoon acknowledged. “Maybe you should just trust me on this one, that you’re better than you think you are.”

“And you do trust him,” Soobin put in. “You told me so yourself, and I’ve seen it in your actions. That’s why I didn’t think it would be a problem to tell Namjoon-ssi about… your difficulty.”

“…I shouldn’t have yelled at you, Soobinie,” Yoongi admitted quietly. “But… I’m still angry at you.” Soobin nodded.

“I understand.”

“I can’t control my transformations,” Yoongi said, after a moment. He was staring at Hoseok’s sneakers. They were a neon green that Taehyung had bet him he couldn’t pull off. Taehyung had admitted his defeat, that Hoseok still somehow managed to look good in those shoes. Still, you didn’t think they were so amazing that Yoongi should be staring at them so intently.

“Hyung… I’m sorry to tell you, but I knew that already,” Hoseok told him. Yoongi’s eyes snapped to his. “I’ve seen how scared you get, every time transforming is even a possibility.”

“…You said you were scared you might go feral,” you recalled. Yoongi nodded slightly.

“Namjoon-ah doesn’t think I will, but he agreed to try and train me to control my transformations better, just in case. Only… I suck at it.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw tightening. “I was angry at him, and Soobinie, because they were talking to each other about it—and if that wasn’t enough, Namjoon-ah was talking about asking his dad for help.”

Namjoon sighed. “And we shouldn’t have done that without asking you first. I understand it’s a personal topic. I definitely won’t tell my dad if you don’t want me to. If me talking about it with Soobin-ssi, whom you know and trust, upset you so much, then I can see that going to my dad, who is essentially a stranger to you, would be even worse. But that still doesn’t mean you should put yourself down like that. You’ve been through physical and emotional trauma, hyung, that isn’t something you can just power through. There’s a strength in vulnerability. The fact that you asked me for help in the first place… I have so much respect for you.”

“… So you’re not disappointed in me for not being able to learn from you?” Yoongi asked.

“No! Of course not!” Namjoon said. “If anything I’m disappointed in my own teaching abilities… but I don’t have a lot of experience with teaching transformations, my father does. I wanted to talk to him because he has experience and could maybe give us both tips that I would never think of—not because I think you’re weak.”

*

You gave Namjoon his fresh set of clothes. Hoseok was teasing him about how much he was blushing when you, Soobin, and Yoongi walked away. Yoongi poked at Soobin’s towel-wrapped head, reminding them to dry their hair properly and put on some warmer clothes. Soobin rolled their eyes, smiling slightly. Soobin walked you and Yoongi to the dining hall before splitting off to go help light the campfires.

*

The kitchen was busy with people moving about. Garlic scented smoke puffed into the air as flames licked the bottoms of pots and pans. You stayed rooted to your cutting board, elbows in as you chopped vegetables. Yoongi was at your side, mixing some sort of sauce.

“Too much?” He asked quietly. You shook your head. He hummed, sounding like he didn’t entirely believe you, but didn’t want to push you either. You could barely hear him. It was loud with scraping, and chopping, and shouting out to each other. You tried to focus on the sound of Hawon, chatting away about whether pork or beef was a better meat. “We need another bowl for this.” Yoongi glanced at the bowl that was already full of ingredients you were chopping. “It’s a lot. Cooking for this many people…”

“I’ll get one!” Hawon weaved through the crowd. You chewed at your lip.

“There’s no shame in needing a moment to catch your breath,” Yoongi told you.

“Really, I’m fine.”

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?”

You nodded. “What about you?” You asked. His eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

He frowned. “No. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay… um…” You looked around the kitchen, eyes catching on the butcher, who was just finishing breaking down the meat from the hunt. “Oh, wow, that’s pretty impressive,” you thought. Yoongi’s frown deepened. You stiffened, knife hovering. He eased it out of your hand.

“Needs to be sharpened,” he muttered. “Not safe.” He moved away before you could answer. While Hawon had danced out of people’s way, Yoongi strode forward, carving a path out, confident that people would move for him. You sighed.

“I’ve got the bowl!” Hawon announced, holding it aloft. She blinked. “Everything okay, [F/N]-ssi? You smell a little sad.”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure what’s going on, really.”

“Human, the trash needs to be taken out,” one of the chefs told you. She pointed at a large bin.

“I’m on it,” you said. You tied the bag and wriggled it loose from the bin, grunting under the weight.

“There’s two of them,” the chef said, watching you dubiously.

“I’ll help!” Hawon said. The chef snorted.

“Of course you’ll help her.”

You frowned, not appreciating the tone. “Excuse me?”

The chef shook her head, going back to the stove.

You and Hawon panted as you dragged the trash towards the back door. Then someone bumped into Hawon, nearly sending the trash flying.

“Watch it, pup,” the wolf grunted, shooting her a look. You glared.

“It wasn’t her—“

Hawon stepped on your foot. “Sorry!” She bowed low, only straightening up when the wolf was out of sight. She sighed. The two of you heaved the bags into the dumpster. Hawon leaned back, watching her breath come out in small clouds.

“What about you?” You asked. “Are you okay? Why are people being so rude to you?” She smiled sadly.

“Ah, well, they’re wolves and I’m a dog, there is bound to be some prejudice…”

Your brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s about loyalty,” she said. “Dog hybrids have a reputation of being loyal to humans, man’s best friend, and all that. Wolves, on the other hand, have a reputation of being fiercely loyal to their family packs, isolated even from other hybrids. That can make it hard for them to bond outside of their hybrid species. Bonds can make us a little… possessive. We want someone to commit to us fully. Wolves will always have strong ties to their family pack, sometimes that makes other hybrids nervous… Kyungmin-unnie… the pack she formed, most of us left, over the past month. She told us from the start, that she would be taking over as the next Pack Leader for her Family Pack, but I don’t think most of them acknowledged it as a reality until they heard the pack grounds were being returned.” She looked at you. “That’s why I was impressed that Namjoon-ssi’s pack chose to stick around. Even if Namjoon-ssi won’t be the next Pack Leader, it’s clear he cares about this place. That could be off-putting to some other hybrids, especially potential mates, but your pack really seems to want to support him.”

Suddenly, the door burst open.

“There you are,” Yoongi said, staring at you. “I thought…” He let out a breath. “We have to go.” He grabbed your hand. You blinked at him.

“What?”

“Seokjin—he’s suddenly in a lot of pain.”

“I’ll tell the Head Chef you have an emergency,” Hawon offered.

“Thanks.” Yoongi gave her a sharp nod.

*

“You felt him through the bond?” You asked as you and Yoongi half walked, half jogged to wherever Jin was. Yoongi nodded. “I don’t feel anything…”

“The mate bond is stronger than the pack bond,” Yoongi explained. “But, still… hyung is usually very good at concealing his feelings.” He chewed at his nails. “The fact that I was able to feel his pain… it worries me, what happened to make him lose control like that.”

You glanced at the sign on the building that he stopped in front of.

Medical Office the sign read. You swallowed. Yoongi took your hand again, and pulled you inside. You were immediately hit by the scent of antiseptic. A woman in scrubs stood at the front desk, taking papers out of a printer.

“Excuse me,” you said. “We’re looking for—“ You cut off as Yoongi turned. Namjoon and Hoseok came bursting through the door.

“Hyung!” Hoseok said, grabbing onto him. “I felt—Jin-hyung was—” Yoongi squeezed his shoulder.

The woman blinked at him. “Namjoonie.”

“Hyunjoo-noona!” Namjoon said. “My—Seokjin—is he—?”
 Hyunjoo nodded. “Follow me.”

*

Jin was lying facedown on a padded bench in the center of the room. Jimin was running his fingers through Jin’s hair as Taehyung and Jungkook listened carefully to the man holding the clipboard.

“Healer Heechul,” Hyunjoo said. “The rest of Seokjin-ssi’s pack is here. And here are the items you requested.” She handed over a stack of papers and a plastic bottle.

“Ah, excellent,” Heechul said. “Thank you.”

“Do you need anything else from me?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know after speaking to Namjoonie.”

Hyunjoo nodded and stepped out of the room.

“Healer Heechul,” Namjoon said. “How’s Seokjin-hyung doing? What happened?”

“He’ll be fine, Namjoon-ah,” the healer assured him. “Seokjin-ssi strained his back, but should recover well, as long as he takes it easy the next couple of days. I’ve given him some pain medication. These are instructions for a massage that should help—I was going to suggest that Hyunjoo-yah give the massage, but Jimin-ssi said one of your pack mates has experience?”

“That’s me,” Hoseok said, raising his hand. “Can I see?” Heechul handed him the papers. Hoseok looked it over, nodding. “I can do this.”


“Excellent!” Heechul said again. “Then, this is for you.” He handed the bottle to Hoseok. Hoseok popped the cap and sniffed. “Massage oil.”

“Is there anything else we should know?” Namjoon asked.

“Hmmm. Young man.” Heechul looked at Jungkook. Jungkook blinked.

“…Yes?”

“I heard that you carried Seokjin-ssi all the way here from the construction site, is that true?” He asked. Jungkook nodded. “I would suggest you be careful for the next couple of days as well. Even those who are young and physically able can push themselves too far sometimes.” Jungkook frowned.

“Thank you, healer,” Namjoon said. “We’ll make sure they both rest.”

*

“Alright.” Hoseok rolled up his sleeves and walked over to the sink, washing his hands. “Someone help Jin-hyung get his shirt off.”

“I’ve got it!” Taehyung said. “Someone else lift him up.” Jimin and Jungkook lifted Jin as Taehyung gently pulled his shirt off. Jin made a noise of protest.

“I don’t see why we have to do this right here, right now.” He shuddered as Hoseok poured the oil over his back.

“Stop squirming,” Hoseok told him. “You like my massages.”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind!” Jin snapped.

“He must be embarrassed,” Yoongi figured, watching them. Jin froze.

“You can feel it?” You wondered. Yoongi shook his head.

“He’s blocked me out again, but he must be feeling embarrassed, because he got hurt, and he wasn’t able to keep the pain from us.”

Hoseok snorted. “Look who’s talking.”

“We’re not talking about me right now,” Yoongi said, eyes narrowing.

“He’s probably also embarrassed cause Kookie carried him like a princess,” Taehyung said, grinning. Jimin laughed.

“No, I think he enjoyed that.”

“I—you—that’s it!” Jin spluttered. “I’m breaking up with all four of you—Namjoon-ah, Jungkook-ah, [F/N]-yah, you’re on thin ice, tread carefully.”

“Sure,” you said, walking over and brushing his hair out of his face. “Whatever you say.”

Jin frowned. “Why do I feel like you don’t mean that at all?”

“Well, I’ll be carrying you back to our campsite in a minute, so you might as well break up with me now, hyung,” Namjoon said, smiling slightly.

Jin glared at him. “I can walk.”

Namjoon shook his head. “Nope.”

“That’s okay,” Jungkook said. “I can carry him.”

“You won’t,” Yoongi said. “The doctor just said you shouldn’t strain yourself, Kook-ah.” Jungkook pouted.

“Healer,” Namjoon corrected Yoongi. Yoongi frowned and nodded.

“What’s the difference?” You wondered.

“Hybrids can’t get medical licenses,” Namjoon explained. “However, a lot of wild packs have highly trained professionals, so we like to acknowledge their hard work in other ways, such as—“

“I can do it,” Jungkook insisted. “I know how to pace myself. Jin-hyung is the one who was lifting more than he should have because he wanted to impress Namjoonie-hyung.”

Namjoon blinked.

“Yah!” Jin said. “You have a big mouth, you know that?”

“I’ve rarely heard any of you complain about my mouth,” Jungkook said smugly.

“Oh?” Jin raised an eyebrow at him. “I think I’ve forgotten—want to remind me?” Jungkook flushed.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “If hyung can be that horny, he’s fine.”

You laughed.

“I told you,” Hoseok said, grinning. “He likes my massages.”

*

“Jin-hyung, why were you trying to impress me?” Namjoon wondered as he carried Jin back to your campsite.

“I wonder…” Jin said. “Clearly, I’m impressive enough already.”

“Probably wanted to make a good impression on your family,” Jimin said, bitting his lip as they passed a few people, who stared at Namjoon and Jin. Jin scoffed. “We’ve all been thinking about it…”

“Take a picture!” Jin called out to the wolves who watched them. “It’ll last longer. I will charge you, though.” Namjoon laughed, nudging his face against Jin’s.

“You don’t have to do anything extra to impress me, hyung. I like you just the way you are.”

“…And you couldn’t have told me that before I strained my back?” Jin joked. Hoseok whacked him on the leg. “Yah! You dare hit an injured person?”

“Remind me again, how you got that injury?” Hoseok said.

“Hyung and JK were probably having some stupid competition to see which one of them could lift more,” Yoongi figured. Jungkook and Jin pointedly didn’t look at each other. “Remember, the healer said you should both take it easy.”

“Why? I’m not even injured!” Jungkook complained.
“You can probably keep working, as long is it isn’t anything too strenuous,” Namjoon thought. “I’ll clarify with the healer later. Jin-hyung, however, needs to lie down for a while.” Jin frowned.

“You have to take it easy, hyung, or I’m tying you up,” Taehyung threatened.

“I mean…” Jin said, smirking. “I think I’d prefer it the other way around, but I’ll give it a try.” Taehyung flushed.

“Ooh, careful Tae Tae!” Jimin said. Hoseok laughed hysterically, grabbing onto you to keep himself upright.

You rolled your eyes. Taehyung cleared his throat, straightening up.

“After tying you up, I will get Jungkookie to drive me into town, buy a whole bag of burgers, and eat them slowly in front of you,” he continued. Jin frowned.

“That’s just cruel.”

Taehyung grinned at him. “Maybe we should do that anyway, just for fun. Jungkookie?”

Jungkook hummed, tapping his chin. “That depends… can I have a burger?”

“[F/N]-yah!” Jin whined, pulling at your arm. “Tell them to stop bullying me!” You took Jin’s hand and kissed his knuckles. His ears flushed.

“What about a side of fries?” You suggested. Jin gasped dramatically. Jimin and Hoseok grabbed onto each other as they laughed hard.

*

You, Yoongi, and Jimin went to get food to bring it back to your campsite. You stuck close to Yoongi’s side again, still not used to all the eyes following you wherever you went. Jimin wrapped his arm around your waist and glared around.

“If anyone’s got a problem with my mates, you’ll have to talk to me about it!” He hissed.

Yoongi pinched Jimin’s side. Jimin yelped.

“Don’t provoke them,” Yoongi said to Jimin, placing plates on a tray.

“But, they…” Jimin frowned, his ears twitching. You could hear some of the wolves muttering to each other, but couldn’t make out the words.

“What are they saying?” You wondered. Jimin and Yoongi exchanged a wary look. You poked at Yoongi’s arm. He sighed.

“They’re saying they don’t believe humans can mate with hybrids,” Yoongi told you. “Despite the rumors of Namjoon’s cousin and her mate.”

*

“Realistically speaking,” you said, as you each carried a tray back. “Just because Harin-unnie and Soomin-unnie were able to mate, and Namjoon’s cousin… that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll be able to mate with you. Namjoon-ah said he would talk to Dr. Cho about it, but he hasn’t yet.”


“We’ll make an appointment when we get back,” Yoongi said.

“But you do know we’ll still love you, even if we never becomes mates, right?” Jimin asked. You stared down at the bowls on your tray, trying to keep them steady. Jimin stopped, tilting his head, eyes wide. “Noona—don’t you believe me? How can I prove it to you? I’ll do whatever you want.” Yoongi frowned.

“You’ve already proved yourself,” you said. “If you say you will, I’ll believe you.” Jimin beamed. “But…” You chewed at your lip. “It’s just… a little hard for me to wrap my head around. I don’t have any experience with dating, or anything like that—and mating is different, isn’t it?”

“From my understanding, it is,” Yoongi confirmed.

“I’ve never even had that many friends,” you continued. “It’s pretty much just been me, and Soonyoung, and my sister.”

“I’ve also never really…” Jimin sighed. “Showcases aren’t the best places to make friends, since we aren’t allowed to see each other.”

Yoongi nodded. “Same with fighting rings. I mean, even if we do manage to make friends, fighters don’t have a very long shelf life.”

Your stomach twisted.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Jimin said quietly. “You—you’re not just—not just a thing to be used and discarded like that.”

Yoongi shrugged.

“It’s how it is. It’s gross, but I used the system to my advantage the best that I could. The boss gave me certain… privileges since I lasted longer. That’s how I got to see Soobinie. We were only allowed in the same room during our cycles, but I got us put in neighboring cells. We could talk that way. And sometimes, we could touch through the bars. I couldn’t fit my hand through, but my tail…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, let’s keep moving before the food gets cold.”

*

You fell asleep with your face pressed against Hoseok’s chest, his fingers playing absentmindedly over the nape of your neck.

You woke up to him grumbling.

“It’s fucking three o’clock in the morning, Namjoon,” he grunted. “Put your book down and go to sleep.”

“One more page,” Namjoon said.

“No,” Hoseok said. “Now. You’ve been saying one more page for the past hour.”

“Don’t argue,” you muttered. Hoseok stiffened.

“See? Now you’ve woken [F/N].”

Namjoon snorted. “Pretty sure that was you, Hoseokie.”

Hoseok growled. You sat up slightly, squinting at them. Namjoon’s flashlight cast odd shadows on their faces. You resisted the urge to laugh.

“Hoseok.” You patted at his head. “What’s bothering you, specifically?”

“…The light’s too bright,” Hoseok told Namjoon. “And, if you’re not well rested tomorrow… I’m worried your pack might think it’s my fault.”

Namjoon frowned. “If they judge my potential mate, they’ll have to deal with me.”

Hoseok frowned. “Namjoon. I’m saying I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay.” Namjoon put his book down and switched off the light. “I’m sorry. You’re probably right. I should get some rest.” You lay back down, apologizing when you head butted Hoseok accidentally. The soft red glow of the heater wasn’t really enough for you to see by. He re-adjusted your head against his chest again. You groped blindly.

“Joonie.”

“I’m here,” he said, taking your hand.

“Come closer,” you said, pulling.

“Are you sure? Between the heater and Hoseok, you should be warm enough. Add me to the equation, and you’ll complain in the morning.”

“Don’t care,” you said.

“Okay. Okay.” He chuckled slightly, plastering against your side.

“Thank you,” Hoseok said. “Night night.”

*

You woke up sweating. You wiped your forehead with your sleeve.

“Morning.” Namjoon smirked at you. He was lying on his side facing you, holding his book with one hand, his other arm tucked into your sleeping bag. He ran his thumb over your hip bone. You turned, squinting at the empty spot on your left side. Namjoon’s hand splayed on your stomach. You let out a sharp breath at the pang in your gut. Namjoon stilled against you. “[F/N], are you…” You took a deep breath, shoving the pain into the back of your mind and turning towards him.

“Hoseok-ah?”

“He and Jiminie went to get more firewood.” He watched as you sat up, grunting and touching your lower back. “I’m sorry, I should’ve remembered about your back.”

“It’s fine.” You unzipped the rest of your sleeping bag and tripped over it as you tried to stand. Namjoon caught you. You unzipped the tent. You breathed in the fresh air.

Jungkook was aggressively fanning the coals in the fire pit. Jin was lying on his stomach in his sleeping bag nearby, arguing with Yoongi about how Jungkook should go about reviving the fire. Taehyung grunted, eyes closed as he pulled Namjoon in for a hug.

“How’re you feeling, Jinie?” You asked, gritting your teeth as you bent over to kiss his head.

“Well, I was fine, but now I’m worried about you,” Jin said, eyeing you.

Taehyung opened his eyes, frowning. “Is it your cycle again? I thought you smelled extra good yesterday, but it’s so early.”

“I told you, it’s not very regular,” you said. “Anyway, I’m fine.”

“You’re in pain,” Jungkook said, looking up from the dying embers. “We have meds for Seokjin-hyung, so you could take some of those.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Jin-oppa needs it more than me.“

“We have enough for both of you,” Namjoon said.

“But—“

“And hybrids have better healing rates, anyway,” Jin cut in. “Especially around their packs, remember?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Stop being a baby and take your meds,” Yoongi told you. Jin snorted.

*

After the fire glowed hot, Yoongi put up some coffee and a small pot of jook he got from the kitchens.

Namjoon took Jin to rest at the Medical Office for the day, while the rest of you got ready for new shifts.

Taehyung and Jimin had signed up for the land surveying team.

Jungkook and Hoseok were doing laundry in the communal living building while you and Yoongi were doing some mending to the side.

Jungkook and Hoseok joined you between the wash and dry cycle while Yoongi got distracted trying to fix one of the broken machines.

You sighed as you finished unpicking a row of stitches for the third time, leaning back against the wall and watching Yoongi for a moment. His brow was furrowed slightly, lips pressed in a line as he eyed the machine.

“He’s cute when he’s focused, isn’t he?” Hoseok mused. You stiffened, not having realized Hoseok watching you. You nodded. “Bored with sewing? I’ll switch with you if you want.”

“It’s not that I’m bored, exactly,” you said. “I’m just… not very good at this.”

“I can relate,” Jungkook muttered, wincing as he pricked his finger again. Hoseok frowned. Jungkook glared down at the pair of pants he was sewing patches onto. Hoseok snorted.

“Your stitches are clumsy, like a child’s.”

“Yeah, well, at least his are staying together,” you thought. “I can’t get the patches to stay on.”

“Let me see it.” Hoseok pointed at the shirt you’d been struggling with. You handed it over. “Hmm. You need to make your stitches tighter—closer together. Look.” He showed you his blanket. You smiled at the patches, which he’d cut into flower and heart shapes.

“Pretty…” Jungkook thought. Hoseok flushed.

“Ah, well…”

Jungkook pouted. “I want mine to look like that.”

“Prettiness is nice to look at, but a blanket is a blanket when you’re cold,” Hoseok figured.

“Maybe,” you said. “But warming someone’s heart in addition to their body goes a long way, I think.” Hoseok opened his mouth, and then flinched as his phone went off, playing a loud rap song.

“It’s time to move the stuff to the dryer,” he told Jungkook.

Jungkook finished putting the load of laundry in very quickly, having insisted on carrying the entire giant pile of clothes all at once.

Yoongi half climbed into the washing machine, Hoseok standing over him holding a flashlight.

“Is it just me, or is Hoseok-ah very focused on Yoongi-oppa’s ass?” You thought aloud. Hoseok dropped the flashlight. Yoongi cursed. Hoseok frowned at you. You giggled. Yoongi wiggled himself out of the washing machine. He and Hoseok moved back over towards you and Jungkook.

“It should work now,” Yoongi said, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “No thanks to this horndog.” He shot Hoseok an amused look. Hoseok whined.

“I was helping!” He protested. You laughed again. “Stop teasing!” Hoseok wrapped his arms around you, gently biting the curve of your ear.

“Fuck!” Jungkook hissed, sticking his finger in his mouth.

“Again?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just… just shut up,” Jungkook muttered. “I can do it. I just have to keep trying until I get it right.”

“Kook-ah, you don’t have to be good at everything, you know,” you told him. Jungkook grunted noncommittally.

*

By the time your shift was over, Jungkook’s hands were covered in little pinpricks. Yoongi took his hand as the four of you walked back to the campsite. Jungkook squirmed as Yoongi licked.

“Ugh, hyung, stop!” Jungkook said, trying to pull away. “They’re so small—they don’t hurt at all.”

“Even small cuts can get infected,” you pointed out. Jungkook turned to frown at you. Yoongi flicked his forehead.

“She’s right.”

“Still!” Jungkook grumbled.

“I know it can be frustrating when you try hard, and still don’t get the results you want,” Yoongi acknowledged.

“What do you know?” Jungkook snapped. “You’re good at everything!”

Hoseok frowned. “Jungkook-ah…”

“It’s fine.” Yoongi waved his hand. “JK, I’m flattered that you think that, but you’re wrong. I suck at a lot of things. Some of the things I push you to do better at… those are faults of mine that I don’t want you to suffer from as well. Accepting medical treatment has been one of those things.” You squirmed. Hoseok hummed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Yoongi glanced at you before looking back at Jungkook. “I guess part of me figures, I’m used to the pain, I can handle it—but I don’t want you to be in even the smallest amount.”

“So, basically, you’re a hypocrite,” Jungkook figured.

“Oh, completely,” Yoongi agreed. Jungkook snorted. “So, come here…” Yoongi grabbed his hand again. Jungkook groaned and swatted at him. The wind picked up. Yoongi shivered violently.

“Yoongi-yah…” Jungkook stopped trying to get away from him and hugged him close instead. “Seriously, you’re a leopard, how come you get so cold?”

“I’m, like 90% human, genetically, you brat,” Yoongi muttered. “And… it’s cold out.”

“It is cold,” Hoseok agreed, watching you tug off your scarf and wrap it around Yoongi’s neck instead. Yoongi frowned.

“Kitten—“

Hoseok blinked as Yoongi turned a corner. “Hyung—this isn’t the way back to our campsite.”

“Namjoon-ah was thinking we could try eating at the dining hall tonight,” Yoongi explained. “The others will meet us there.”

*

“Ugh.” Yoongi’s nose wrinkled as you poked your heads into the building. “Crowded.” The tables were full.

“There are more tables outside,” Namjoon said. “We could try one of those.”

“And the line for food is so long,” Taehyung complained. Food was laid out on a long table. The line circled around the room.

“We could be here for a while. Are you sure you don’t want to eat back at the campsite?” Hoseok asked Jin.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jin said, waving his hand. “The healer said I’m good to go—as long as I don’t do any heavy lifting.”

“Then, why don’t you go ahead and save a table, and the rest of us will wait in line?” Hoseok suggested.

“Alright,” Jin said reluctantly. “As long as Namjoon-ah comes with me. He looks dead on his feet.”

“I’m—” Namjoon interrupted himself with a loud yawn. “Well, I was going to say ‘I’m fine’ but maybe you’re right, hyung. Let’s rest together, you and me.” He and Jin headed outside while the rest of you got in line.

“What about you, [F/N]-yah?” Hoseok looked at you. “Not too crowded?” Yoongi stepped closer, his tail brushing your leg. “How are your pain levels?”

You shrugged. “I’m fine.” You watched one of the kids at a table nearby, nearly falling asleep in their soup. People laughed. The murmurs of conversation around the room were soft.

“It kind of reminds me of the farm,” Taehyung thought, smiling. Someone behind you in line scoffed. You turned, seeing a man who looked to be around your age. Jimin’s eyes narrowed.

“Guys, this is Byungwoo-ssi, one of Namjoon-hyung’s cousins who was with us on the land survey committee,” Jimin introduced him. “Byungwoo-ssi, this is my pack.” Jimin gestured. “Did you have something to say to us?”

“You call yourself a pack? What would I have to say to such a pitiful group?” Byungwoo replied. The murmurs of conversation nearby quieted. Yoongi tensed. You looped your arm through his. “Especially the fox who thinks he’s a farmer.”

“…I never said I was a farmer, Byungwoo-ssi,” Taehyung said tiredly. “You must have misheard me—I said I come from a family of farmers.”

“I heard you were raised by humans,” Byungwoo said, his lip curling. “What could they know about the land? My father was the Agricultural Advisor for this pack—before the humans came and murdered him.” Byungwoo looked at you now. “I can’t believe Namjoon-hyung would play pack-mates with a human. Is it true that he wants to mate with you?”

The line had stopped moving. The people in front of you were paused, ears perked as they stared.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Yoongi said, his grip tightening on your arm. Hoseok and Jungkook exchanged a look.

“When I heard about Nabi-noona, I thought I was gonna be sick. And now Namjoon-hyung?” Byungwoo shook his head. “What is this pack coming to?” Jungkook suddenly moved off of the line, sprinting out the front door. Byungwoo glanced after him. “What’s with the prey—is he looking for someone to chase him?”

Yoongi growled. Hoseok grabbed his other arm. Byungwoo raised an eyebrow.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Taehyung said. “But my family has nothing to do with the death of yours. If your father had respect for the land, I’m sad I never got the chance to speak to him.”

“Why would he ever want to speak to you?” Byungwoo said, stepping forward. Taehyung stepped away from him, but Byungwoo kept advancing until Taehyung’s back hit the wall. Yoongi started growling again, trying to lunge at Byungwoo, but you and Hoseok held him back. Byungwoo’s ears twitched towards Yoongi, but both eyes were focused on Taehyung. Namjoon and Jin came running into the room. 
“Byungwoo-yah,” Namjoon said, his tone tense. “What are you doing?” Byungwoo still wouldn’t look away from Taehyung.

“It’s fine, hyung,” Taehyung said. “Just as long as Byungwoo-ssi gets out of my personal space… Please.” Byungwoo snorted, leaning in closer. Yoongi was panting heavily. You glanced nervously from him to Taehyung.

“You should listen to Tae,” Hoseok said, moving his hand to the back of Yoongi’s neck. “The next one of us to ask won’t be asking so nicely.”

Byungwoo ignored him. “You should stay away from my pack,” he spat at Taehyung. “You worthless—“

Jimin punched Byungwoo in the face, forcing him back from Taehyung.

“Ah, well…” Hoseok sighed. “I did warn you.”

Byungwoo snarled and pounced on Jimin. People scrambled out of the way. The two of them wrestled on the floor for a moment before Namjoon was on top of them, pulling them apart. Namjoon held back the snarling Byungwoo while Jin cupped Jimin’s face, frowning at the bruise forming on his cheek. You turned away from them, your focus drawn to Yoongi’s sharp and shallow breaths.

“Yoongi, it’s okay,” you whispered.

“Can’t shift,” Yoongi ground out through gritted teeth. Hoseok frowned, still clutching the back of his neck.

“Hyung, can you count your breaths for me?”

“Not safe…” Yoongi said. “Don’t want to hurt you…”

“Yoongi.” You took his hand and pressed it against your stomach. Yoongi let out a small choked sound. “Breathe with me. In… out…”

“Good,” Hoseok whispered in Yoongi’s ear, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. “Hyung’s doing so good.”

The crowd was murmuring again. You looked up to see Jungkook and Kyunghee approaching.

“What is going on here?” She growled.

“Leader!” Byungwoo bowed sharply. “The—that cat knocked out my tooth!” He held out the glint of white in his palm.


“Good,” Jimin said venomously. Jin snorted.

“Taking a tooth is a serious offense,” Kyunghee told Jimin. Jimin froze. Jin griped his shoulders.

“Leader,” Hoseok spoke up. “Byungwoo-ssi threatened our mate, Taehyung-ah.” Kyunghee turned her pointed gaze on Byungwoo. He squirmed.

“It sounds like you both owe each other an apology,” she said.

“I won’t apologize for defending Tae,” Jimin said. “But… I am sorry if my actions reflect negatively on Namjoon-hyung.” Jimin took a deep breath and then got down on his knees. Many members of the crowd gasped. Jin was still gripping his shoulders, glaring around at everyone. “I’ll take any punishment you see fit to give, just leave the rest of my pack alone.” Kyunghee studied him thoughtfully.

“And now he’s kneeling?” Byungwoo scoffed, turning to Namjoon. “You’ll let him bring shame to our pack like that?”

“I think you’re doing perfectly well with that on your own,” Namjoon said. Byungwoo growled. Namjoon shook his head. “What useless anger. Is this all because of Taehyung-ah’s comments during the land survey?” Byungwoo quieted, his face flushing. “We live in a society where we are constantly oppressed for simply being born as we are, and you use your anger to attack another hybrid? You use your anger to attack another hybrid for saying something intelligent, and helpful to our pack? Maybe you were embarrassed because you expected more of yourself. Maybe you were ashamed in the memory of your father, a hardworking man who did so much for this pack—you think he would be proud of you putting down a fellow pack member? Kim Taehyung is a stronger man than you could ever imagine. He has been through things that make your words seem like less than the taunts of a child—and he still smiles beautifully and strives to help those around him. Instead of wasting your energy pretending you’re better than people you’re not, maybe take the time to better yourself. Maybe one day you will be a big enough man to thank someone for helping your community instead of wasting everyone’s time spewing meaningless shit.”

Byungwoo’s ears turned down, his tail dipping between his legs. He let out a small whine and then ran out of the building.

“Yeah, you’d better run,” Jimin muttered. Jin pulled him to his feet. Jungkook moved over to them, bumping his head gently against Jimin’s.

“Namjoonie-hyung!” Taehyung ran and pounced on Namjoon, who rocked backwards slightly, but caught him, gripping the back of his thighs as Taehyung wrapped his legs around his waist. “You—are—amazing!” Taehyung punctuated each word with a kiss. Jimin pouted slightly as they started to full on make out.

“Um…” Jungkook spoke up hesitantly, glancing at Kyunghee. “Uh…”

“Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok said, looking amused. “I don’t know if you care, but your mom is here.” Namjoon froze and then broke apart from Taehyung.

“Oh. Ah.” He flushed. “Hi, mom…”

“Hello son,” Kyunghee said, smiling a bit. Namjoon groaned and tried to hide his face against Taehyung’s neck.

Taehyung giggled. “Hi mom!” He waved.

Namjoon looked up, startled.

Kyunghee hummed. “You know, I wouldn’t mind having more children.” She looked around at the rest of you. “You should certainly call me mother once you are mated to Namjoonie.” Namjoon made a choked noise. Taehyung grinned and slid off of him. “Taehyung-ah, can I borrow Namjoonie for a couple of minutes?” Taehyung looked at Namjoon.

“Hyung?”

“Right…” Namjoon gripped Taehyung’s hand for a moment and then let go.

“And I’m going to take Jimin-ah to the Medical Office,” Jin said conversationally. Namjoon blinked.

“Jiminie—are you okay?”

Jimin frowned. “I’m fine.”

Jin held up Jimin’s bloodied knuckles. “You knocked someone’s tooth out, you need disinfectant.” He started dragging Jimin away.

“Heal well!” Namjoon called after them.

You stepped out onto the front steps, breathing in the cold air. Hoseok glanced back at Namjoon talking to his mother for a moment, and then shut the door behind him.

“I think we could use a moment to ourselves,” he answered your questioning look. “He knows where we are if he needs us.”

“Can’t I just lick it?” Jimin whined at Jin.

“We don’t know where that man’s mouth has been—I don’t want you licking it,” Jin told him.

“I’m coming too,” Taehyung said.

“Me three,” Yoongi said. Hoseok frowned.
“You’ll be okay?”

“It was just a panic attack,” Yoongi said, waving his hand.
“Panic attacks can be exhausting,” you thought.

Yoongi nodded slightly. “I’ll be fine. I need to talk to Jiminie.”

Taehyung looped his arm with Yoongi’s.
“Me too.” He shot Jimin a look.

Jimin swallowed. “Shit.”

“I guess I’ll wait for the food,” Hoseok figured. “It might be good to bring it back to our campsite after all.”

“No,” Yoongi said. “We should stay. Show them we’re not backing down.”

*

You, Jungkook, and Hoseok stood in line quietly for a few minutes.

“Is Tae angry at Jiminie?” You asked finally.

“Oh, ah… probably,” Jungkook said. “Cause Tae-hyung doesn’t like when we use violence to defend him.”

“Cause you can get hurt,” Hoseok pointed out. “Although, I understand being angry. If I wasn’t holding Yoongi-hyung back, I might have reacted differently.” You nodded.

Jungkook frowned. “Did it get worse, after I left?”

You nodded again. “He was backing Taehyung-ah up against the wall,” you told him. Jungkook’s teeth chattered together. “If Jimin-ah hadn’t escalated it to physical violence, the other guy might have.”

*

Before long, all of you were sitting at a picnic table outside. The tables outside were less crowded than the ones inside, but you were still aware of all the eyes watching you.

“I’m out of practice,” Namjoon mused. “I grew up with basically no privacy, but then I was alone for so long…”

“In the showcase we were always either alone, or being watched by creeps,” Jimin said. “Neither were very fun.”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon said. “If you’d rather go back to our campsite—“

“It’s fine,” Jimin said. “I don’t care what any of them think about me.” Taehyung snorted.

“What are they saying?” You wondered.

“Weirdly enough, most of them seem to respect Jiminie for his actions,” Hoseok told you. “Like, he showed strength by throwing that punch, and humility by kneeling.”

“Most of us wolves would be too proud to kneel,” Namjoon explained. Jimin frowned. “But we value loyalty above all else. For wolves, fighting to protect your mate is expected. You put aside your pride for our sake, that’s a lot more difficult. They’re impressed.” Jimin bit his lip and looked at Taehyung. Taehyung sighed and reached out to squeeze his arm.

“Are you two on speaking terms, then?” Hoseok asked. Jimin and Taehyung looked at each other and nodded in unison.

“I don’t regret my actions, but I will do better in the future,” Jimin said. “Yoongi-hyung is going to give me a self-defense refresher, so I can fight better next time, if I need to.”

“I’d rather you not fight at all,” Taehyung said. “But if you have to, I want you to be as safe as possible.”

“You should know how to throw a punch without hurting yourself,” Yoongi muttered, shaking his head. “I taught you better than that. Fight smarter, not harder.” Jimin smiled sheepishly. Jungkook’s eyes glinted.

“We could spar again, Jiminie-hyung.”

“That I wouldn’t mind watching,” Taehyung said.

“Well, I won’t be patching you up when you get each other hurt,” Jin muttered.

“You know you will,” Hoseok said, lips twitching. Jin glared at him. You rubbed his arm.

“How did the talk with your mother go?” You asked Namjoon.

“…She said she was proud of me,” Namjoon said, sounding amazed. “She said, it wasn’t the way she would have handled it, but it was effective and fair. She said I’ve grown into a man she’s proud of… and I’ve surrounded myself with a good pack.”

“Well, we’ve got about a week to prove her right,” Jungkook thought.

*

As the week continued, Jin and Jungkook were cleared for heavy lifting again. Jin decided to stick around at the Medical Office and help out, but Jungkook abandoned mending in favor of construction again.

You and Jimin tried out different tasks. On one of the last days, you delivered lunch to the workers. Jimin watched as you tried to squirm out of Jungkook’s arms, complaining about how sweaty he was. Jungkook laughed a bit and then looked at Jimin.

“You okay, Jimin-ssi?”

“Of course.” Jimin smiled brightly. “No worries, you go get back to work!”

Jungkook shot him a disbelieving look, gave you one last hug—  “Ugh, gross, seriously?”—and went back to work. “Are you sure you’re alright?” You asked Jimin as the two of you walked back to the campsite.

“Yes!” Jimin sighed. “Well, no. Not really.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked. Jimin made a noncommittal noise. “You don’t have to… we could, um, Namjoon-ah brought like three books, so maybe one of those is interesting, or—“

“Between Tae’s knowledge of agriculture and Jungkook-ah carrying whole trees in each arm, I’m feeling a little useless,” Jimin admitted.

“Jimin…”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jimin snapped.

“Like what?” 
He wrapped his arms around himself. “Like I’m small—not good enough—pitiful.”

“You’re not. You’re—Jimin-ah, your presence is larger than life. When you walk up, people are immediately drawn to you, or, at least… I am.”

Jimin looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then he pounced, and you were both rolling down the hill.

Your heart thudded as you came to a stop on flatter ground.

The cool grass pressed against your back as Jimin stared down at you, cradling the back of your head with his small hand. “Sorry if I surprised you.”

You shook your head. “It was kind of fun.”

He laughed. “Ah, good.” He flopped over, staring up at the sky. You turned on your side, studying him for a moment before reaching out and brushing his hair out of his face. He sighed. “I’m afraid... I’m afraid that if I’m not useful, you won’t need me anymore.”

Your brow furrowed. “Society… places a lot of value on productivity,” you said slowly. Jimin nodded. “But this…” You gestured back and forth between the two of you. “Lying here with you, that has value to me.”

“…Me too,” he said, turning back to the sky. “I really enjoy being with you. But… I’m sorry, it’s… it’s not enough. I need to…” He kicked out his legs and groaned. “I need to be doing something.”

“That’s okay,” you said. “I don’t need to be the most important thing in your life, as long as I’m still important.”

“You are. I promise.”

“Okay. So… what kind of things do you want to do?”

He shrugged. “I learned a lot in the showcase. I have a lot of talents, but they’re all… they’re all pretty much entertainment based. At Bangtan, all the others helped out. Jin-hyung helped Daewon-noona in the nurse’s office. Yoongi-hyung helped fix things. And both of them were in the kitchen multiple times a week. Hoseokie-hyung cleaned more than the so-called janitor. Jungkookie did a little of everything. Tae and I helped out with the younger hybrids, but he always had more of a knack for it than I did. I never really felt like I fit in anywhere.”

“First of all,” you said. “You’re young, so if you’re looking for a space to fit into, you still have time to find it.” Jimin made a face. “Second of all… I don’t think your entertainment skills are as useless as you’re making them out to be. People need food and childcare, of course, but people need to feed their souls as well. Creative expression is very important. So, unless it’s damaging for your health, or it’s something you simply don’t want to do anymore, I don’t see why you shouldn’t do something like that.”

*

The next night, Jimin put on a performance at the bonfire. One of the older hybrids, his son, and his granddaughter all played the drums. They set out a steady beat that climbed with Jimin’s movements.

Jimin leapt as lively as the sparks crackling over the firewood. He twirled like the plumes of smoke.

Jungkook was filming on his phone. Taehyung was crying quietly, with his hand over his mouth. Hoseok rubbed Taehyung’s back, a glint of pride in his eyes as he watched Jimin.

“Oh, wow,” Namjoon said aloud. Jin glanced at him and laughed.

“Yeah, I know how you feel…”

“He looks so alive,” Yoongi said. 
Jimin ended with a bow. You could still feel the drum beat in your chest, even though they had quieted. Everything was quiet, and still, except for the rise and fall of Jimin’s back as he breathed.

And then one of the children broke out of the crowd of spectators and dashed towards Jimin.

“Oppa!” The little girl grinned wide. “You were so cool! How did you do that? I didn’t know you could fly!”

Jimin laughed, crouching down to get on eye level with her.

“Thank you, pup. You make me feel like I can fly.”

*

You woke before sunrise, the last morning at the pack grounds.

Jungkook lit the fire. Taehyung shouted when a moth flew close to him. You captured the moth in your hands and grinned as Taehyung shot you a disgusted look. You held your cupped hands out to him.

“Fuck no, get that thing away from me!” Taehyung ran and you chased him until Jungkook grabbed the moth from you and flung it away. Taehyung tackled you to the ground and tickled you mercilessly. He was still draped over you, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes as you joined the others back at the fire. “Everybody except Jungkookie sucks,” Taehyung announced. “No one else defended me.”

“You’re a grown man,” Yoongi said, looking up from his spot leaning on Namjoon’s shoulder. He was reading one of Namjoon’s books, underlining sections, scribbling notes in the margins. “What do you need defending for?”

“To be fair,” Hoseok said. “I was too grossed out.”

Taehyung nodded. “Understandable.”

“I’m just amazed the three of you have such energy so early in the morning,” Namjoon commented. You shrugged.

“Coffee?” Jimin handed you a mug as you sat down. You smiled, took a sip, and then froze. You lowered the cup as Jimin snickered.

“Salt?” Jungkook guessed. You nodded, trying another sip of the coffee, grimacing, and pouring it out.

“Such a waste,” you muttered.

Jimin grinned. “Yeah, well, I had to defend Tae Tae.”

Taehyung beamed. Jin clicked his tongue. “Such children, honestly.”

“Hyung, weren’t you the one who suggested the salt?” Yoongi said. “I heard you and Jiminie whispering about it.”

“…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jin said evenly, ears turning red.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist

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[harveywritings92]

Bnha Mafia AU Scenario: You need a new bra

[Summary: Busty reader! the last of your bra hooks break while lifting boxes at work! Leaving you in a bit of pickle, so, you text your friend telling her to go your house get you another bra... At least you though you thought it was your friend...]

"Goddamn lazy sons..." You huffed bending down getting another box of the floor, Naoki your male co-worker was supposed to be doing this but he decided texting on his phone and flirting with Mei from accounting was productive then doing his job! you huffed lifting a box full of text-book up when you felt your bra loosen..*Crap, one of the hooks must've snapped...oh, well I still got two more." then you felt your bra start to slip off did you realize your mistake...

This was the bra from last week! the one that had a broken hook after playing with your cat, you felt the second one snap this when you were putting on your jacket this morning...  Your face was on fire as you awkwardly looked around making sure you were the only person in the storeroom before unbuttoning your blouse and and taking off your broken bra to examine it to see if may the hook didn't break, maybe it just bent and you could fix it! Nope, it was definitely broken... How embarrassing you huffed grabbing your phone and texting your friend telling her it was an emergency!

{My bra broke, I need you get me another at my house! and please hurry my supervisors gonna be here any minute! I'm in Storeroom 13} 

[seen a 12:45 ✔✔]

Twenty minutes later...

"Y/n I got your text open the door"

You blinked bemused that didn't sound like your friend it sounded like... 

____________________________________________________________________________________

Shigaraki Position: the big boss: You open the door to see Tomura standing outside in the hall, You stared at the mob boss incredulously, before registering what he said *he saw my text...*, You looked down at you phone and saw his name on top of the screen...Your face felt like it was on fire as Shigaraki cleared his throat, you looked at him and saw he was blushing as he held out a bag from a very every expensive lingerie brand which looked at bemused did he buy her a new bra... "Y-you Didn't have get m-" He cut you off "Just take it!" You blinked and took the bag from the white haired mob boss, who waited outside thinking about the embarrassing situation at the lingerie store... 

He got that text and went to ask Kurogiri to bring the car around as he was going to attend to your wishes, until Dabi got a look at his phone and snorted. "Well, no shit it broke, she's not even wearing the right size!" the hit man noticed his boss eying him suspiciously. "And how exactly would you know that?" the scarred man just smirked knowing Shigaraki doesn't have a lot experiences with women.

"Boss I'm hit-man, it's my job to analyze people right down to what brand of socks they wear, You think I wouldn't notice a chick with {y/cup} size boobs in a {not y/cup} bra? it pretty obvious, especially when she does that little squirmy shrug thing with her shoulders."  

Shigaraki seemed to take this to heart as he didn’t like the thought of you being uncomfortable, So he had Kurogiri to take him to a lingerie store instead of your home, needles to say the staff were all on edge when the notorious head of the Shigaraki group came waltzing into their shop, looking around nervously at the various styles and varieties of underwear and sexy sleepwear.

One of the sales ladies finally mustered up the balls to approached and asked if he needed help. Shigaraki explained the situation and the lady put on a tight smile and helped him with obvious reluctance, before setting on a sky blue bra, but then Shigaraki paused when he saw a couple of other sleep sets he figured you'd like and one that he liked that was made to look like a game controller bought those too. 

He heard the door open and saw you walk out, Tomura cheeks were pink when he noticed that your chest looked like it had gotten perkier, that extra padding really was worth it, he'll have to have Kurogiri send those ladies at the Lingerie store a card or something... "D-does it fit alright?" He stammered scratching his neck while looking a you nervous about your reaction. "Yeah, actually it fits nice..." You said surprised that you're boyfriend got your size right. 

"That good! that's nice!...um I have to go I see you after work" he said kissing you on the cheek and walking out the back door, just as your worried boss rounded the corner asking why the head of Shigaraki was here? and where had he gone, yeah forgot to mention your company in under the Shigaraki's protection, but that was long before you and Tomura were a thing.

Needless to say when you got home that evening you were very surprised to find at least four more bags of Lingerie waiting for you on your coffee table, your face felt like a furnace as you read a note from Tomura detailing his high hopes that you'll be wearing at least one of them, and what he plans to do with you when he comes over to play later!~ 

===========================================

Dabi Position Hitman/Enforcer: There stood Dabi dried blood on his jacket (at least you think it was dry, the jacket too black to tell.) with a pervy grin on his face as he held up a bag from a lingerie store... your eye twitched and went close the door in his face when he wedged his foot in the door to stop you. "Easy there Fairy~ I'm just answering your distress signal!" he said teasingly causing you look at him oddly.

"What are you on about?" He put his hand in mock hurt. "Oh that text wasn't for little ol'me?" Again you looked him like he'd grown six heads, before looking down at your phone and saw that, yes. You had texted Dabi instead of Abbi, oops... "Actually that text was meant for Abbi. " the hit-man took then shrugged. "Well then I guess I'll be goin.." You grabbed his arm. "h-Hold up!, hold up lets not be hasty now!" he looked back at you with a smirk as he handed you the bag.

Dabi waited outside the door when he heard you muffled "What the fuck?" then you angerly yelling at him. "Get in here right now!" the hitman resisted the urge to burst of laughing at your face, as you held up a cupless bra for him to see. "If you seriously think I’m gonna wear this I'm cutting your dick of right now!" you hissed as Dabi feigned innocence. "What. what wrong with it?" He eyes watched you reach for a shelf where they store the extra blades for the Paper-guillotine, and he put his hands up.

"Okay, okay I’m just kiddin' with ya!" he took the bag from you and pulled out a dark purple bra with teal polka dots the inside of the cup was also teal, you hummed before putting it on and were pleasantly surprised that it fit you! "That feel better than that [not y/cup] size rag you've been wearing?"  You gawked at him bemused "Wait...I was wearing the wrong size? How did you notice?" Dabi said you squirming your shoulders and walking around like the hunch back of Notre-Dame was a dead giveaway.

You hummed putting your shirt back and Dabi with this little smirk on his face seeing the improvement that bra. "Looks like Patty and Selma are safe and snug in their new home.~" he purred watching them puff up when you crossed your arms. "I still don't get why you named them after the aunts from The Simpsons." You say as you watch him check his phone. "Because!" He kissed you on the cheek before going to the window. "...They're always smokin~" he winked before hopping out the window and running into the foggy afternoon, just as you boss cam in asking if you were done with inventory? And where the hell was your male co-worker?! that night Dabi was pleasantly surprised to find you trying on the cupless bra; checking yourself out in the mirror let's just say the Hitman was definitely buying you more underwear if he gets to come home that every night!~

============================================

Hawks position smuggler/police informant: You were confused seeing your boyfriend standing in the hall "Hey Dove." he greeted smiling coyly and holding a sparkly bag from a Lingerie store, you looked at him oddly. "Uh...Hi?" you looked to see if your friend was hiding behind him, nope just his wings... "Why are you here?" you asked. "I got your text, see?" he took his phone and showed you his phone, your face felt warm as you saw your text staring you in the face.

You must've mistaken Keigo for Kaiko "Oh... That wasn't for you. " You hummed embarrassed Keigo didn't seemed to mind as he held out the bag to you causing you heat up realizing he bought you underwear... Which you were reluctant to take. Now it's not that you didn't trust Keigo it's just his track record buying you clothes isn't very good... but then you looked at your options and sighed taking the bag from the blond; not seeing the sneaky smirk Keigo was trying to hide.

 before he heard you go "what the hell?" he snorted and walked in the storeroom to see you holding up this, ugly neon yellow mesh bra littered with green sequins in the shape of peacock feathers that covered your nips, You looked at the bra then him at almost scared. "Dude..." You murmured in disbelief that he actually expected you to wear this! he burst out laughing you pouted and started hitting him. "Ow...ow, haha! Okay!...heh, Okay!" He snorted as he checked the bag he gave you and under all the cray paper he pulled out this red bra with little gold stars on it, it looked cute but you were skeptical as you put it on. 

"Holy crap, it fits...."You looked at him suspiciously as you were putting your shirt back on. "Who helped you?" You asked watching at he stiffened up "I don't know what you talking about..." he smiled coyly as you crossed your arms and cocked a brow, before watching Keigo's smile drop, your brows furrowed as you watched one of Keigo's feather's shot out through a gap in the door and you heard a yelp!

You both went outside in the hall to find your co-worker Naoki pinned to the wall by Keigo's feather his cell phone laying at his feet, the blond's eyes narrowed as he picked it up and looked through it, Keigo growled when he found photos of you changing on it. He looked at Naoki in disgust before crushing the phone much to your co-worker protest and hawks pocketed the memory card, then turned to Naoki. "I'd keep my mouth shut about this if I were you bub.”

Keigo hissed as brought another razor sharp feather up to nervous man's face and pressed it against his cheek. "Or else you'll learn the meaning of “”Snitches get stiches””... Ya get me?" Naoki nodded and Keigo put him down and watched him run, The blond then turned to you with a cheeky smile. "Wanna go the lunch?" You agreed and hastily left with your birdbrained boyfriend.  

[writingsbychlo]

let it snow | joel dawson

word count; 20,746

summary; the night is made for doing things you probably shouldn’t do, and the mornings are for running away from them. except, for when you’re snowed in, and trapped with your problems for who knows how long.

notes; this is based vaguely on the movie ‘two night stand’, but very loosely, it does not follow much of the idea at all, just the basic outline. you absolutely do not have to have seen the movie to read this.

warnings; smut, reference to unprotected sex, very light (accidental) slut shaming, that’s about it.

It took you a moment to realise that you weren’t in your own bed when you woke up, startling a little as you came to the realisation. Your walls were not painted blue, and you definitely didn’t have a desk that messy pressed up underneath the window. In fact, your bedroom didn’t have a view like that at all, your bedroom window looked straight out into New York city, and the alleyways behind some dodgy fast-food restaurants.

This was a nice view, calmer roads and little houses, fields sprinkled with snow became visible the more you sat up, and you hadn't remembered it snowing this heavily last night. Sure, you’d been rather preoccupied, and okay, maybe it had been snowing a little bit, but this looked excessive. Although, it would explain the deep chill in the air right now.

You were still a little foggy, jumping slightly as hot breath washed over you from behind the bedding pulling as another body shuffled, and you were stiff all over. Then, it hit you. Reckless, a few drinks in with your happily loved up roommate and her boyfriend, who made you feel more and more painfully single every time you saw them, before you’d retreated to your bedroom, tipsy and secretly bitter, and checked some dating websites. A cute guy, some witty jokes, a funny conversation, and then him.

Everywhere, all at once, a quick train ride and some frantic kisses, your clothes being stripped from your body as that same mouth moved lower and lower, sweaty and hot and barely stopping to ask questions before you were waking up now, a little bit panicked and filled with ridiculous regret. Rubbing a hand over your eyes, you forced yourself to roll over, as calmly as you possibly could, to try and take in the sleeping man beside you.

Messy brown hair, the same shade as dark chocolate, your tongue tingling at the thought of the sweet treat as you liked your lips, resisting the urge to reach out and see if the stands were as soft as they looked. His face was half-hidden within the pillow, slumped down into it, but pale skin reflected little brown moles, his hair beginning to speckle with a light tracing of stubble, the tingle of which was now beginning to make itself known again between your thighs. Long eyelashes on closed lids hid his eyes from you, but you had a distinct memory of them, burned into your mind.

Warm pools of amber and gold, swirling browns that glittered in the low light that had taken over, like flickering candles and pools of caramel, a shade of whiskey that you wanted to be drunk on, beautiful and bright from all the times he’d looked at you. He was handsome, you couldn’t deny that, an odd surge of pride rushing through you as you congratulated yourself on at least being able to pick out somebody physically perfect to have a one-night stand with in your self-pitying loath.

The blankets were sitting around his middle, one hand stretched out a little towards your side of the bed, long and veiny fingers, and you remembered a little just why he’d driven you so wild now, those same veins making tracks up his forearms, disappearing just before his biceps. He was toned, but not overly so, the muscles along his chest standing out, a smattering of dark hair between them, and you could finally remember tracing the slight definition of abs with your tongue, before you’d been tracing something else, and your face flushed with heat as you remembered just how much of the man before you you’d seen.

It felt scandalous now, to be sharing abed with a stranger whom you could barely remember, and to know exactly what he looked like naked, or how he sounded while moaning as he came, but to not even know his last name, or to fully remember the address that you were even at. It was dirty, it was filthy, it was wrong. Oh, but it had been so fun, an experience that everybody should have at least once in their life, a naughty little secret, the one night stand you picked up at a bar, or through a friend, someone you’d look back on fondly once you were ten years older, married and settling down, and as you thought about it more, your lips were still flicking up in a smile.

You’d laugh about it one day.

Slipping from the covers, you tried to find your clothes, not wanting to linger any longer, not wanting the awkwardness of having to deal with stunted small-talk and forced politeness as you tried to adjust to the morning alongside him, someone who was still a little fuzzy in your mind, and your clothes were scattered around the room within easy access, a fortunate happening that made you thank whichever god or deity might be watching you right now.

Sipping your jeans back on, you wiggled a little, trying not to make the flooring creak underneath you, and only pausing long rough to put on your socks, shoes held in hand as you adjust your jumper on your body, a hand running through messy hair to tame it. The man shuffled, and you froze, watching as he paused for only a moment, before flipping over and away from the side you’d been sleeping on, a sleepy huff sounding from him, but he was still snoozing heavily, and you let out a little sigh. Your coat was hanging on the rack, and you grabbed that too, anticipating ho grateful you’d be to have it as you battled against the freezing cold that was surrounding you, toes chilling more and more against the concrete, but you didn’t want to wait much longer to leave.

A scrap of paper, a post-it note from the pad in the hall and a pen that barely had any ink left in, but you scribbled down a few quick words, pinning it up to the corkboard beside the door, and nodding to yourself as you deemed it good enough.

‘had a great time last night, thx.’

With a smiley face and a sign on your name to finish it off, you were undoing the catch across the door, the chain rattling slightly as it fell loose, and you winced, waiting to see if you’d woken him again, the studio apartment he resided within offering little in the way of walls and doors to muffle the muted noises of your escape. When you deemed it clear, your hand sealed around the door handle, clicking it open carefully, and pulling the door towards yourself.

So close, the corridor in sight, but the alarm beeped loudly, and you jumped, the computerised voice startling you so violently that your whole body jerked a little, and you went wide-eyed. You closed the door, hoping it would stop, but the beeping only intensified, and your heart raced in your chest.

“Shit!” Your voice was hissed out in a whisper, and you panicked, hearing the man in bed begin to stir a little, and in a last-minute bid to try and reclaim what little dignity you had left, not wanting to be caught sneaking out, you tore the note back down from the pin-board crinkling it slightly and tiptoeing back to the bedroom. Placing your shoes and coat down quietly as the man began to surface, and you tucked yourself back under the covers on the opposite side, pulling them up to your neck and faking a yawn as he pushed himself up with a groan, sleep broken.

He wandered away from you, your eyes diverting from his body a little bit as the covers fell away, and you were grateful to find that at some point he’d pulled his boxers back on, because you weren’t sure you could handle any more embarrassment this morning. The beeping came to a stop, a mechanic voice informing you that the alarm had been rest, and he was rubbing at his face and yawning as he wandered back through.

“False alarm.” ��His voice was still raspy, filled with sleep and cracking a little.

“That’s so weird.” He only hummed in acknowledgement of your words, before he was shaking himself down, settling back into the bed and rolling onto his side, away from you as he fell right back into his slumber, and you sat up. “Bummer that it woke us up. I should probably get going anyway. I had fun, though!”

“Thanks, I think.” He was still half-asleep, barely processing your words, you picked at the sheets a little, trying to decide whether or not you were sufficiently polite enough to be able to leave yet.

“It was perfect for.. y’know.. what I needed. So, thanks, Joe.”

“Joel.” He mumbled, your brows furrowing as your legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet hitting the floor, and a loud creak sounded out under your sudden weight on the floorboards.

“What?” He huffed, deciding that sleep clearly wasn’t a luxury he was going to reclaim, and he pushed himself to sit up, pillows popped behind him.

“My name, it’s Joel.”

“What did I say?” Your fingers were doing up your laces, ignoring the burning heat of his gaze on you.

“Joe. My name has a little ‘L’ at the end. Joel.”

“Right, yeah, my bad.” You cringed a little, picking up your coat from the floor, and pulling it up your arms, an amused look on his face as he watched you.

“Did you sleep fully dressed?”

You looked down, shrugging a little and swallowing thickly as this got more and more awkward, and this wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured the morning after your first one night stand going. “I, uh, got cold.”

“Uh-huh.” You patted your hand at your sides, not sure what else to do, and he stretched his arms out, rolling his head from side to side, before looking at you again. “So, do you want to get some breakfast? Or do you normally just take off?”

“Normally?” He paused his stretching, looking up at you, a confused expression flicking across handsome features, and he made a vaguely confused noise, as though he didn’t know what he’d just spoken. “You said ‘normally’. Like, as if I do this so often that I’d have a normal and abnormal version of it.”

“That’s not what I meant. I have no idea how often you do this, I just thou-”

“I told you last night that this was my first time doing this, or even anything remotely like this!” You remembered that part clearly, because you choked a little on your words when telling him, and then he’d laughed breathlessly and kissed you, while pushing you back into his bed, and your face flushed as you remembered the exact moment, graphic detail almost disturbing.

“Yeah, but, c’mon.” You raised your brows at him, hands sitting on your hips as you stared at him, hoping your face portrayed the fact that you absolutely did not know. “(Y/N), c’mon. Do you really expect me to believe that this is your first one night stand, ever?”

“Yes! Because it is!” He stared at you blankly, before shrugging a little, seeming to accept it, but you were still feeling distinctly judged. “The only reason I’m even here is that my roommate and best friend had her boyfriend over, and I was feeling particularly lonely in the holidays, and they were, y’know, about to.. so, I had to do something, an-”

“No, yeah, you were sexiled, or whatever. I remember that. It’s just, surely this isn’t the first time your roommate has wanted to sleep with her boyfriend while you were home, so this can’t be the first time you’ve.. yeah.” He waved his hands, motioning between the two of you, and your arms crossed over your chest, glaring at him.

“I am sensing some distinctly judgy vibes coming from your side of the bed - which is odd, considering what we did took teamwork - and I haven’t even done anything worth judging!”

“There’s no judgy vibes coming from this side of the bed!” He laughed a little, shaking his head incredulously at you, and had your anger not been reaching its peak, you probably would have been a little more embarrassed. “Honestly, I really admire what you did. I wish more girls were that forward.”

“Forward?” You seethed, rolling your eyes at him. “There we go with that ‘slut’ thing again!”

“Wha- what ‘slut thing’? I’m not calling you a slut!” He moved now, standing up himself from the bed and you averted your eyes, letting him scoop up his shirt from the floor and tug it on over his head. “I’m calling you a girl, who went over to a stranger’s house at midnight. If only there was a word for that.”

“You know what, screw you!”

“That was a joke.” You stormed past him, hearing him chase after you with his own laughs as he tried to suppress them. “That was a joke! I’m sorry, bad timing.”

“You invited me here, just remember that!”

“That’s not quite how it happened, but it doesn’t matter.” He was biting at the inside of his cheek to contain his smile, fixing you with an amused gaze. “Look, why don’t we just have some breakfast? I make really good oatmeal, with a little smiley face made out of jam.” He almost had you, your resolve breaking just a little, before he was snickering to himself again. “And it’s not slutty at all.”

“Save your stupid oatmeal, I think I’m just going to take off.” You swung the door open, a bitter smile on your face as you looked back at him. “Thanks for having me, it was just awesome getting to know you. Have a great life, Joe.”

“Okay, cool, well, I’m just going to assume you did it on purpose that time, because I already told you a bunch of times that it’s Joel with an ‘L’.”

“It wasn’t, but don’t worry, you just have a stupid name!”

“Great.” He huffed, no amusement left in him as he stared at you with frustration. “Well, ‘bye! Lovely having sex with you!”

“Wish I could say the same!” You hissed, his jaw dropping a little, before his eyes were narrowing.

“Sounded like you had a pretty good time last night.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” You were prideful and mean, and you’d probably feel bad about it later but right now it was the only way you were getting through this disaster of a morning. “Especially when it’s something like ‘Hey, Joel - cool name.’ Like, what is that? Sounds like the first draft of a name!”

“Okay. Fuck you, (Y/N).”

“Fuck you, back!”

It was a weak ending to the argument, but you didn’t care, the door slamming behind you as you stormed away, quick to hold your coat closer to your body as the temperature between the apartment on the halls was radically different, your breath clouding in the air even from within the building, and you located the staircase.

It was only four floors up, the building being rather oddly constructed, only two apartments per floor, and it was unusually quiet behind all of the doors. When you finally reached the main entrance, remembering him coming downstairs to let you in last night, you undid the catch, your shoulder pushing against the fogged up glass as you made to leave, and a confused and slightly pained cry sounded from you as the door refused to budge even an inch.

You tried again, before you were wiping at the glass, to clear the condensation and try and see what the blockage was, but you quickly discovered it wasn’t fog but ice. Moving over to the window beside a door labelled ‘laundry’, you were met with the sight of snow piled up high, almost three feet up to reach the base of the window, and the roads weren’t even visible. You hadn't realised just how heavy the snow had gotten, and how bad the extent of it all was, until now, where you could see the

“Oh, no, no, no.” Panic flooded through your system as you realised just how screwed you were, trapped in a building with no way out, and your phone was dying, and you weren’t even sure whether your roommate would be up in time to come and find you and clear the snow before the battery died. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Pulling up google, you were quick to check the news reports in the area, finding that the snow had increased and come down heavily overnight, it was a city-wide issue, and there was no way that they’d be getting anywhere near where you were for hours, if that. It was still snowing, albeit not as heavily, but they were prioritising inner-city roads and train lines, not little apartment blocks on the edges of cute fields and open space.

Of all the people you could choose to hook up with, you had to pick the person who was living in the most inconvenient location for a snowstorm.

Glancing around, you realised this was it, you were just going to have to hunker down for a few hours, and in all fairness, it could be worse. At least it was clean and smelled pleasant. Settling yourself down against the cool concrete flooring in the edge of the room, you stretched your legs out before yourself, daring to tap the ‘call’ button on your phone, and bringing it to your ear.

You waited, listening to it ring all the way until it went to voicemail, and then again, and again. After three times, and a whole 5% of what little battery life you had left remaining, you gave up on your roommate, knowing that if it were you at home, you’d be snuggled up cosy in your bed and still fast-asleep too. Switching the device off to conserve power, your head fell back, resting on the wall. Most wonderful time of the year, my ass.

“No, it was super fuckin’ weird. Totally fine, and then suddenly everything is a screaming match an-”

You cursed under your breath, the one voice you had wished you wouldn't have to hear again, followed by rhythmic bouncing of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you glanced up, offering a small wave to the person whom you’d hoped never to have to see again, and his brows furrowed, pausing where he was stood.

“I’m gonna’ have to call you back.” Tucking his phone into his pocket, he took the final few stairs slowly, coming to stand before you, and you pushed yourself up from the floor, brushing the dust from your pants. “What are you still doing here?”

“Blizzard. A whole bunch of snow piled up and now the door won’t open.”

He turned back to look at it, adjusting the basket in his arm before placing it down on the floor, and moving over to the door. Your arms crossed over your chest as he did, watching as he pushed the barred handle down, shoulder ramming into the door, and a grunt left him as it refused to move. He tried it again, before rubbing at his arm lightly, and moving away to peer out of the window just like you did, a little shocked at just how much it was, and you rolled your eyes at him. “I told you.”

“I was just trying to help, there was no need to be rude.” He muttered, and you scoffed once again, turning away from him as he picked the basket back up. He wandered away from you, into the laundry room, disappearing from sight, and you sat back down on the floor.

You heard him test the taps, water still coming through them miraculously, the metal and water within not having completely frozen over, and you brought your legs up to your chest, arms crossing over your knees and chin balancing atop them, preparing yourself for a long while of being bored. It was after many clicks and dials, the soft beeping of the machines as they rumbled to life, that you heard him appear once again, dirty Adidas scraping against the floor, before he came to a stop in front of you.

He looked at you for a minute, seeming to analyse whatever thoughts were going through his head, and you raised a single brow at him, prompting him to speak sooner rather than later. “You can come back upstairs, if you want.” You stared at him for a further minute, jaw dropping a little, and he tucked the laundry stock under his arm. “It’s going to be hours until those roads are cleared, even if they do unblock the doorway. You’ll freeze down here, and you haven’t eaten anything. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

He offered his hand, and sliding your palm against his, he pulled you up from your position on the floor, dropping your hand and spinning on his heel to guide you back up to his apartment. It was awkward, to say the least, and you rubbed your hands together to try and warm them back up, the chill in the air beginning to seep into your clothing and cool you to the core.

When the door opened back up, you let out a little groan, wishing you’d suppressed it better but being caught off guard, and you heard the man before you huff a laugh as your eyes scanned over the small space heater that was set up in the corner, warmth radiating from it and spreading across the apartment. Hanging your coat back up on the hooks by the door, you shuffled through the apartment, not too sure what you should be doing now that you’d returned to the scene of the crime from which you’d fled.

You chose to simply follow what Joel was doing, repeating his name like a mantra in your head so that you didn’t mess it up again, and taking a seat at the round table with a few mismatching chairs around it within his kitchen, watching as he clattered about with pots and pans at the stove. You busied yourself with your phone, finding that you at least had a signal, and could access your social media.

Instagram and snapchat were filled with videos and photographs of the snow, taken aesthetically from the windows, roofs and balconies of people who were lucky enough to be in their own homes, curled up with steaming mugs of tea and the loves of their lives to take pictures from behind frosted glass of the winter wonderland that was more like the bane of your existence.

You replied to a few texts, and messaged your friend again to update her, leaving it there for her to read whenever she came back around to consciousness, to tell her that she didn’t need to rush, and that you’d at least found yourself somewhere to keep warm and safe. Your head snapped up when a steaming bowl of oatmeal was paced down before you, smelling delicious with maple syrup and fruit, a spoon clattering down beside it before the scraping of the chair opposite you was ringing in your ears.

Poking at it, you couldn't help but notice the smiley face sitting on top, the syrup beginning to sink in as the blueberries scattered over the top were almost half-submerged, looking a little wonky but still adorable, and you looked up at the man who was already tucking into his own, finding him staring at his own meal in silence.

“Smiley face.”

Your voice cracked a little with your whispered words, but his eyes met yours, pausing only a second before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a gesture of a smile, and one shoulder rose and fell in a weak shrug. “Told you I would.”

You only nodded, spoon stirring at the contents of the dish, mixing it all together and the face on the porridge disappeared as you blended the flavours, before lifting a heaped spoonful to your mouth. Blowing on it carefully, you took the mouthful between your lips, this time successful in holding in your little sounds of appreciation as the food hit your tongue. It was delicious, you couldn't deny that, warm and satisfying as you tried to fight off the cold that was still threatening to creep in.

It wasn’t that you hadn't worn suitable clothing, but you’d only worn a camisole and jumper with a pair of leggings that were undoubtedly on the thinner side, because warm clothing hadn't been your main concern the night before when they were only going to be peeled from your body an hour or so later, discarded to the floor. Now, you were deeply regretting that decision.

You also hadn't realised how hungry you’d been, because the headache that had been forming, throbbing behind your eyes with a dull ache, was beginning to recede, the anger that had been dwelling within your system was fading, and you were allowing your mind to replace it with guilt instead. You’d been a little crass this morning, yelling and lashing out at Joel when it had been your fault that you felt like shit, succumbing to the sensual temptations of nightfall and your loneliness, and blaming your decisions on everyone else when the sun had risen.

“Look, we’re going to be here a while.” You jumped, spoon clanging against the edge of your dish, and Joel tried - and failed - to bite back his smirk at the amusement of having scared you out of your thoughts. “Why don’t we just pretend like last night never happened? Start over again? You can stay on one side of the apartment, I’ll stay on mine, we don’t even really have to interact. We’ll just coexist until the snow is cleared, and then we can part ways and never meet again. Sound cool?”

You let out a breathy sound of amusement, nodding your head as relief flooded your system. “Works for me. Clean slate?”

“Great.” He nodded, that flickering look of amusement passing over his face again, and he reached a hand out across the table. “Hey, I’m Joel. Your roommate for the next couple of hours.”

You paused, letting out a sigh as he arched his eyebrows in a silent question as to whether you were going to leave him hanging, before you accepted the outstretched hand and shook it. Giving him your name in return, he nodded his head, before he was standing up, and taking both of your bowls away to the sink, dumping them into the soapy water that he’d already prepared so that they could begin to soak.

Crossing your legs under the table, and your nails tapped for a second, silence filling the room for a few minutes, and you desperately searched for something to say that you could use to fill the silence. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

His voice sounded almost as strained as your own, but you let out a little sigh at the fact that at least he’d broken the tense silence between you both, and you hummed. “Yeah, that's good with me. Do you have a phone charger I can use?”

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, hands still submerged within the sink, but you waved the device at him as he took it in. “Yeah, I’ll grab it. You can go and pick a film; remote is around there somewhere. Pick something good.”

You were more than eager to get away from sitting idly at the table in awkward quiet and waiting for the hours to pass, each tortuous minute making you wish you’d just remained downstairs alone, slowly freezing into a statue. The couch was large and plush, slightly worn seats but it only made it look more inviting, a plethora of cushions and pillows laid out for you to settle into, and just as he’d said, the controls were already out on the coffee table, a few coasters and random pieces of stationary covering the surface too.

Switching the television on, you waited for it to boot up, finding that he had netflix downloaded, and there was a list of films in the back of your mind that you’d been waiting to watch, and you flickered through them all as you stared at the screen. Narrowing it down, you felt like a comedy might be a good choice, lighten the air with something easy going and funny, nothing too intense, and the couch dipped at the very opposite end as your company sat as far away as he could, leaning against the other arm of the couch but dropping his phone charger down onto the space between, an olive branch extended in the form of a tangled phone wire.

“How about ‘Jumanji’?”

“Good film.” He mumbled, and you nibble don your lower lip, before he was letting out the breath he was holding and turning towards you. “Second one is on here too, we could watch them both. I haven’t seen that one, just the first.”

“It’s a plan.” You confirmed, clicking play on the movie and crossing your legs, leaning over the side of the couch to try and locate a socket, pushing the plug into the wall, and hooking your phone up the power, the device buzzing in your hand as it began to charge up.

Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart were an entertaining pair on screen, and as the group began to navigate through the jungle, you let yourself become immersed in what you were seeing on screen. It wasn’t all that hard, because Jack black was hilarious. The occasional echo of a laugh from one or both of you would crack the silence when something happened, and the picking of loose threads on your jumper had begun to stop as you settled a little more into the situation, your anxiety settling and not needing to be quite so stiff.

When there were only twenty minutes or so until the end of the first movie, your phone buzzed, and then again, a series of rapidly incoming texts, and flipping over the device, it was revealed to you as your friend. Swiping it open, you pulled up the texts, chuckling to yourself at the frantic collection of broken messages that she had sent to you.

[soph ��] only just woke up, so sorry!!

[soph 🌹] just checked news, no way to get to u!!

[soph 🌹] roads all blocked, wtf, when did this snow come down??

[soph 🌹] kinda funny tho.

[soph 🌹] only u would go for a hookup and get snowed in there.

[soph 🌹] is he at least hot? tap that again. fill the day with hot sex??

You scoffed, but your lips were forming a smile, and you could feel the glances that were being cast your way every couple of seconds, choosing to glance up and return the look as he turned to face you once again.

“My friend just woke up, she’s finally learning about the snow.”

“Did she know you were still, um..” He scratched at the back of his neck, other hand casting around the apartment. “-out?”

Heat flushed your own cheeks, before you were nodding your head, and he seemed or accept that, silence forming between you both once again as he turned to look back at the TV screen, but stretching out with a little more comfort, long legs crossing at the ankles from where they were extended before him, and he lounged back a little more.

> that’s definitely not going to happen.

You were only given a moment of reprieve, before your phone was chiming again.

[soph 🌹] why not!! not like you’ve got anything else to do

> probably bc we're not exactly getting along. civil at best.

She didn’t respond after that, leaving your message on read, and you assumed that she’d become preoccupied with the man you guessed would have spent the night there with her, and once again, you were envious of her for being at home and comfortable in her own space, when instead, you felt like you were walking on eggshells.

The majority of the second movie was spent more on taking in the details of the apartment around you, instead of the plot line and characters. Posters hung up on the walls, and you wondered how he could afford to live here, the place was nice, but there was nothing here that suggested another person lived in the apartment, but there was no way a college student could afford a place like this alone, unless his parents were paying for it. It was a nice area, the kind of place you could live with if you had kids or were elderly, and you were pretty sure on your way over here the night before that you’d seen someone walking a dog, making it the picture-perfect neighbourhood.

College textbooks and stationery were around, a stack of notebooks and text printouts sitting on the little table before you, and it was almost fifteen minutes before you built up the confidence to lean forward and take them all in with a little more detail. He watched as you went, your eyes moving to meet his as you waited for permission, but he never stopped you, so you picked up the first book that was on top.

‘Art within Literature: The Importance of Illustrations’

“Didn’t have you pegged for an art kinda’ guy.” You mumbled, and you heard him chuckle, before he was sitting up a little straighter, moving across the couch closer to you just slightly, to see which one you had picked up.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that, actually.” He grabbed at the controls, your eyes flickering up to the screen as the sound of the movie cut off, replaced by the boring drone of the local news station, but right now, it may as well have been the most important thing in the world as the two of you perked up to listen. Placing the book back down, your legs folded underneath yourself, and you secretly had your hopes up that they were going to be getting around to this end of the city soon.

It took a while, the list of places that were being cleared was working out from the inner city in circles, your hopes falling more and more and you listened, getting an update on the weather about how it was expected to be even colder tonight than it had been last night, and the snowfall wasn’t expected to stop anytime soon, but instead, you would be here even longer than expected. The earliest that there were any plans for the road to be cleared in this area was tomorrow morning, and sadness was once again spiking within your system, feeling the man beside you sag with just as much disappointment.

“Guess I’ll set the couch up for you, later.”

“Thanks.” You hoped your lack of enthusiasm didn’t show in your voice, because you truly were grateful, and he stood up, wandering away to his bedroom and grabbing the plastic woven basket he’d been using earlier as he went, presumably to start up another load of laundry. When the door to the apartment closed behind him, you were left in silence once again, and you turned down the volume and picked up the next book that had been on his pile.

This one was a sketchbook, that much was clear as soon as you opened the book, and his full name was written across the front page, information on how to return it if it came up lost followed it, smudged fingerprints from graphite and coloured chalks were also along the corners. Flipping the first page, you were caught a little off-guard by the image you saw, yet not entirely surprised.

Clearly, his passions lay with fiction and fantasy, the name of what you assumed to be some kind of ancient Greek novel, much like ‘Iliad’ or ‘The Odyssey’, because a range of different creatures and monsters were scattered across the pages beautiful drawings, incredible details and shading, and you’d never seen anything quite like them. You wanted to trace your fingers over them, but resisted in fear of ruining the delicate art, and flicked through the pages instead.

At the top of some pages the book titles changed, inspirations from different famous works, some you knew and some you didn’t, but the drawings were always perfect. When you reached the final page, you placed it down, guilt once again running through your veins as you remembered the way you’d snapped at him this morning, because the more you learned about him, the more you realised he wasn’t all that bad, and he was probably a pretty decent guy, if you’d just given him the chance to be.

Getting up from the couch, an idea was forming in your mind, a way to at least try to pay him back or make your appreciation known, and you found yourself again in his kitchen, hands on the cupboard doors as you began to look through them.

They were mostly empty, not much in place but enough to make it work, you were sure of it, you could whip up something out of all of it, and you moved across to have a look at the contents of the tall refrigerator hidden in the corner.

“Need help finding something?”

You startled, turning to look at him and closing the fridge, and his hands were on his hips as he stared at you, your arms wrapping around yourself gently as you shrugged. You couldn’t blame him for being a little putt-off, you were just a stranger after all, but you wanted to at least try and make proper amends with him, and so you let yourself be unbothered by the frustration flashing over his features.

“What are you looking for?”

“I was just seeing what you had in.” You waved a hand behind yourself, swallowing thickly and taking a small step around the dining table towards him. “I was just seeing what you had, because I was hoping to cook dinner for you, maybe? Y’know, as a thank you for letting me stay with you, and keeping me warm and all, even though I was rude this morning.”

“Oh.” The tightness in his shoulders loosened, his body slumping a little, tension melting away, and a bashful look flickered over the anger, taking its place as he tried to muster a smile for you. “That would, uh, be nice. Thanks. I don’t have a lot in, though.”

“You really don’t. Do you just survive on junk food and pasta?”

He laughed, a genuine laugh at that, before he was standing before you and reaching over to the cupboards, pulling out a packet of pasta, and holding it out to you. “What’s wrong with junk food and pasta?”

“Nothing! But it’s all you have!”

He only grinned, opening the fridge and standing to the side, double-checking what he had in. “Well, I’ll have you know that I make a great minestrone, and that’s what I was planning to have for my dinner tonight. You can join me.”

“I don’t know how to make that.”

“Well, I’ll teach you, and it’ll change your life. I swear it.” He closed the fridge, leaning back against it with a questioning look on his face, and you shrugged, but you felt a lot more comfortable already, the simple banter between you both mending a broken bridge.

“I was supposed to be cooking you dinner though.”

“You can be my sous-chef, how about that?” Now that was a deal you could work with, and you shook his hand, this time it was filled with giggles and wide smiles, as opposed to the last time you’d come to an agreement over breakfast only a few hours ago, the beginning of the day bringing much brighter prospects than the early morning had. “Now, what do you want to do until then?”

That was a good question, and it took you a minute to think about it, eyes glancing around his apartment for inspiration, pausing on the television stand with boxes of games stacked up underneath, and you lit up a little. “How about board games?”

He groaned, loudly, and you found amusement in it once again, being that this was his apartment, and he was finding issues with his own methods of entertainment and possessions. “Nobody plays board games while sober.”

“It's midday! We’re not getting drunk at midday!”

It was scandalous, and you didn’t have much more space to give over to scandals within the next twenty-four hours, pretty much having reached your quota already, and a cheeky look flickered over his features. “Well, we don’t necessarily have to drink..”

“What are you suggesting?”

Your eyes narrowed on him, and he spun on his heel, not saying a thing but letting you follow him. He cleared the books from the coffee table, stacking them all away on the floor in the corner, before lifting up the fold in the middle. He reached inside, and you waited patiently, your jaw dropping as he revealed the item to you, looking more than proud of himself.

A bong, tall with green glass, and it was decorated and bejewelled along the bottom, stickers and actions figures stuck to it, the whole collections making you snort a laugh as you looked at him, before your hands were landing on your hips and a look that you hoped read as ‘seriously?’ written on your face.

“What, you don’t want to?” He waited a moment longer, nibbling on his lower lip, before sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table and finding his lighter. He also reached for the first box on the top of the file, producing a box with one word across the front, brightly coloured and you recognised it. “Suit yourself, but I am. I need something to get through the whole afternoon with you.”

The comment would have stung a lot more had it not been for the cheeky wink that he added onto the end to tell you he was joking, and you sat cross-legged opposite him, picking up the box labelled ‘UNO’ and tipping the deck out into your hands. He clicked at the lighter, waiting for it to spark up, before his mouth was meeting one end of the glass, the contents inside bubbling and gurgling a little as he inhaled, and you dealt out the cards.

He hummed, head tipping back, eyes closed as he settled into the feeling of his eye, and as though he could feel you watching him, his head fell forwards, eyes opening to look at you. “Sure you don’t want any?”

You waited only a moment longer, before huffing out, holding your hand out for them both. “Fine, hand it over.” He placed both pieces on the table, sliding them across the polished wood to you, and you picked them up. Clicking on the flame, you adjusted it in your hand, lips pressing to the cool rim of glass, swilling it a little for good measure, before you were lighting up the end.

Steamy smoke curled up into your lungs as you inhaled deeply, warmth racing through your body as a tingling kind of feeling ran through your throat, tickling and making you grin, in a way that you were familiar with and yet hadn't been accustomed to in a long time. The buzzing feeling raced through your body, already kick-starting nerves and reactions that had felt dormant for a long time.

You hadn't been to a party, a real and exciting college party, since your break up. You’d locked in and sealed yourself away ever since your heart had been broken, and it felt good to adventure back out into the world like this, even if you were locked away with a guy from halfway across town whom you’d known for about twelve hours. “Okay, you were right.”

“Feel better?” He grinned, holding his hand out for the device, and for a little while, the two of you simply shared it between you, letting that initial tingle grow into a proper buzz the world around you beginning to slip away into a haze. Your vision was soft around the edges, slightly out of focus, and the world felt a little more comfortable. Spreading your legs out underneath the coffee table, your back leaned against the couch, feet in his lap as he sat with his legs crossed and folded under him.

When you’d decided your high was enough, you’d started with the games. ‘UNO’ had brought on rivalry and chaos, the two of you raising your voices to the point that you’d been yelling at one another, throats going a little sore as you cursed and laughed, not quite sentient enough now to make the best calls at the game, and so it had felt like it had dragged on for hours, before you had finally been the champion.

He had challenged you to a rematch in the form of a board game called ‘Frustration’, and the two of you had been so busy playing that the time was slipping away around you, the board being flipped by you as he began to win, counters scattering across the floor, and he looked completely and utterly insulted at it, before cracking up laughing with you once again.

After that, you had sprawled all of the games out over the floor, some of them being team games that you were unable to play together, and you’d refused to play a drawing game with him, because you’d peeked at his designs, and were scared to showcase your own drawing in front of him, worried that he’d completely put you to shame and leave you embarrassed.

Poker had been too much of a challenge, half of the pieces for the monopoly board were missing, and you’d done every round of Mario Kart at least once by the time it had come to turning off the console under the TV. Joining you by your side, the two of you were slumped lazily into the couch cushions, shoulders pressed together as the bong sat between you, fresh hits racing through your systems to keep everything exciting, but the thrill of the act itself was beginning to die off, and you were once again out of things to do for entertainment.

At some point, the light outside of the windows had faded, the clumps of snow that had been left along the windowsill were still rising, flakes still falling in flurries from the clouds, except what had once been visible in the day was now dark, the low light of the lamps in the room spilling golden light out across the walls and carpet. Rolling your head to the side, you took in the man sitting before you, watching as he tapped his feet repetitively on the coffee table to the beat of a song you didn’t recognise.

“I looked at your drawings.”

“What?” He paused, twisting to look at you, and he sat up a little further.

“I was being nosey. Earlier, I looked at the drawings in your sketchbook.” His gaze flickered to the leather-bound book in the corner, stacked up with the rest of his belongings, before getting up and putting the bong away, folding the edge of the table back down, and wiping a hand over his face, cheeks tinted pink, and you weren’t sure if it was from the warmth of the room or out of embarrassment. “They’re incredible. Some of the best illustrations I’ve ever seen, actually.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah. I could never draw like that. I can’t even draw stick men without them being wobbly, sometimes.” He smiled again at that, and you found an odd feeling running through you at the idea that you were able to make him smile, your stomach clenching and twisting as he looked at you fondly, shaking his head a little, eyes dropping to the floor.

“I don’t get a lot of practice with it, I can’t get any apprenticeships yet because nobody wants to hire someone who’s only experience is in one element. Mine being fantasy-sorts, I suppose.”

“Will you draw me?”

“What?” He looked a little startled, eyes wide, and you shuffled forwards on the couch, hand twitching to reach out and take his as you tried to reassure him, watching uncertainty flick over his face. “I don’t really have experience with drawing people. More the imaginary things, described but never seen, less to fuck up if there’s nothing to compare it to.”

“I don’t think you’ll fuck it up.” He swallowed thickly, moving to kneel on the other side of the table, his sketchbook in hands as he fidgeted with it.

“If I mess it up, don’t make me show you, okay?” You only nodded, and he hesitated a moment longer, before getting himself into a more comfortable position, searching through the drawers around him to find his pencils and equipment, laying them out and taking an extra amount of time to line them all up perfectly, and you were sure it was because he wanted to give himself a spare few seconds to hype himself up to it.

You waited patiently, just now beginning to process what was about to happen, and that you’d have to sit still for a long time, while he stared at you, drawing every highlight and flaw of you, while you remained steady under his gaze for as long as it took. When he was ready, you moved yourself a little more, sinking down onto the floor after rounding the coffee table, sitting at the side of it as he positioned you.

“Can you, um-” He tugged two fingers on his own t-shirt, and you looked down at your hoodie, the hood of it crowding around your shoulders, and you nodded, tugging it up from the bottom and over your head. A cool breeze swept over your skin, exposed with only the thin satin camisole hanging on your body to keep you warm, but you felt yourself light up on fire with the way his eyes swept over you. “However you’re comfortable. I’m just going to draw your head and shoulders, so, do whatever you want.”

You pressed your elbows to the wood, hand forming a loose fist and your cheek pressed to it, leaning like that, a slight ankle, and he nodded his head to himself, seeming to approve of the pose. Picking up a pencil, he studied you for a second, the nib hovering over the paper as he held it at an angle that couldn't see, perfect for him to work on though, before stopping.

Placing the pencil between his lips, he held it there, reaching forwards to pull a few strands of your hair free on either side, framing your face and letting them dangle there, curling one around his finger a little to make it twisted, before he was pulling back. “You’re so pretty.”

After that, he was working. Quick strokes of his pencil over the paper as he created the first outline of you, your head, where and how your hair would fall, your hand holding up your head and down to the spaghetti straps on your shoulders, quick movements, a lot of erasing, and very light brushes of the graphite over the paper. Once he was sure he had the form right, only a few minutes in, he started on the details.

His eyes, lingering on your face, licking at his lips to keep them wet as he worked, parted for short breaths, unaware of what he was doing and you resisted biting down on your own as you looked at him, trying to hold your position. It was hard, the look of concentration on his face while staring at your mouth, or the determination in his eyes as he held your gaze and yet was so far away, taking in every little detail, until he was rubbing his finger over certain spots to create shading, and create the minute detailed with finally sharped tips.

Your arm was sore and neck aching when he finally told you that you could sit up, and you rolled your head from side to side, loosening the muscles and tendons that had begun to lock up from the prolonged length of time motionless. He was clutching the pad to his chest, fingers tapping at the back, some slightly smudged with grey graphite, and you inched closer to him.

“Can I see?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” He tried to laugh at his own comment, but was nervous, and you placed a hand over his gently, pulling it toward you slowly, and he gave no reluctance, but wasn’t moving of his own accord. “Okay, you can look, but you have to remember that I’m not good at drawing people, and I’m still high as fuck.”

You’d almost forgotten about that, and it was just now clicking with you why you’d been bold enough to do something like model for a sketch, your inhibitions lower, the boldness of nightfall giving you yet another boost in something that you’d never have done earlier in the day. Taking it from him, you turned it around, seeing the nervous look on his face before you were looking down at the sketch. His own worries had prepared you for the worst, but as you looked at it, you decided it wasn’t all that bad.

There was certainly work to be done, but he had the basic forms down, even you could tell that. It was clear that his skill lay elsewhere, the detailing of things like fins and scales was nothing like drawing the subtle imperfections of skin and the dips and dimples of a face, the creases where a fist held a head up nothing like the folds along the back of a monster, but he certainly had a grounding to work from, and you loved what you were seeing despite it all.

“I love it.”

“You’re totally lying to me.” He mumbled, and you shook your head, placing the notepad down, and fixing your attention on him. “It fuckin’ sucks.”

“It does not! I think it's really good. Especially since you said you had no practice, I was expecting something bad. This is so much better than you made it out to be.”

His lips flicked up at the sides, his head raising, bringing him a little closer to you as he straightened out, feeling better about it all now. “You should’ve seen some of the things I drew in high school. My portraits were awful back then, but I was drawing people while in the car, so it wasn't the smoothest of working places.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’ve come a long way since high school, and I think you’re really talented.”

He hummed, eyes flicking down to your lips again, and this time, as he licked at his own, there was no excuse of artwork, or anything else, your heart jumping slightly in your chest. There was a moment, a second’s hesitation as you questioned whether this was what you wanted. There was time to stop, to pull back, his nose bumping yours lightly, warm breath washing over your mouth, and you were a second away from closing the gap, before loud knocking was sounding at the door, and making the decision for you.

Pulling back, his gaze went over your head, brows furrowing as he stared at the door. “Hello?”

You winced at the loud shout, and he mumbled an apology upon realising it, slight disappointment surging through you, but not as much as relief. You were growing more and more attached to this man, but at the end of the snowstorm, you’d still have to leave, and he was still a stranger. You were high, and the romanticism of the situation was morphing things to look rose-tinted and alluring, and you wanted to be of a rational mind to make a decision like that. “Hey, Joel! It’s Mandy, I was wondering if you would grab your stuff from the laundry room, so I can put a couple of loads through?”

His eyes went wide, gaze dropping to your own for a second. “Shit, I totally forgot about the laundry!”

His hand slipped down to yours, fingers lacing together as he tugged you up from the floor, handing you the basket that had been discarded hours ago, and he opened the door, an older woman who looked positively exhausted, arms full of boy’s clothing, and you pitied her knowing that she must be trapped in a shoebox apartment with a son who would be bouncing off of the walls and unable to burn off that energy.

“Sorry, Mandy, I forgot about it. We’ll grab it now.”

“We?” You muttered, the woman’s eyes flickering over you in amusement, and you were tugged out of the apartment and towards the stairs quickly, hearing the door close behind you, and the much slower steps of the tired mother as she trailed you.

The concrete was cold underfoot, especially the lower you got, and you hissed as your sock-covered feet hit the icy stone, never having had a chance to put on your shoes. Putting the container down, he opened it up, steam curling out into the air, even though the dryer had been finished for hours.

‘You couldn't have let me put my jumper on before we came down here? It’s literally freezing over right outside that window.” You mumbled, Joel turning to you, and he cringed a little, as though he had only just remembered the scrap of fabric you were wearing as a top. Pulling an armful of the warm clothing, he sorted through them, pulling a cosy looking jacket from within, and wrapping it over your shoulders. Heat seeped back into your body, warmed from the machine, and you barely noticed the mother entering the room, waiting for Joel to clear his clothes out, watching as you ripped the hoodie up along the front of your body, hood pulled up and hands made into paws by the long sleeves.

“You look cute.”

“I look cold.” You retorted, and he only rolled his eyes, but Mandy laughed, and that was enough recognition for you.

“Yeah, well, we can make some hot food when we get upstairs and you’ll be fine, how about that?” He sat the collection under one arm, offering his other hand to you, and you pushed up the sleeve of the borrowed hoodie, weaving your fingers with his as he guided you from the room.

“I’ve been waiting for this minestrone you’ve been boasting about. I need to see if it lives up to the hype.

“Hey, everyone loves my minestrone!” He backed his way into the home, dropping your hand in order to place down the basket that wouldn’t be looked at for hours now, you were sure. He ushered you into the kitchen, hurting you along until his hands were tickling at your sides and you were squirming under his touch, laugh loudly as he pushed you into the little room.

You worked alongside him, trying to take in the information he was giving to you but it was hard, because the little things he was doing were distracting you. The way in which his hands moved as he chopped the vegetables or prepare the meat, the passionate easy his voice sounded as he told you all about it, his eyes sparkling a little while instructing you, and the little jokes he’d make while bumping you out of the way with his hip, or guiding you around with nudges of his elbow or shoulders.

While cooking, he opened up a little, a story that you’d never have expected to learn from him, but he told you anyway. His parents had died in a car accident when he was young, too young to really remember them, but he’s been allowed to take several boxes of things with him to his foster home as he waited for adoption, and he’d taken his mother’s recipe book as one of those items.

When he’d been adopted, a man whose family had died and he’d become a foster parent, had helped him experiment with his cooking and drawing, instead of forcing him into typical paths for men to take, making him become a football player or a lawyer like he’d expected he’d end up after leaving the system.

A younger sister, also adopted from another family called Minnow, and a dog adopted from a shelter called ‘Boy’, and suddenly, in the space of time that it had taken to make the meal, delicious smell floating around you, he’d spilled to you his history, and you’d listened quietly as he got it off his chest, figuring out somewhere along the way that you were probably one of the only people to ever know this story.

You weren’t sure if that brought you comfort or not, whether he was telling you out of trust and connection, or whether he was telling you because he knew that you’d never see one another again after today, and so he didn’t mind sharing his deepest protected truths. During the heavy discussion, the nibbling of food and the time passing you by, the high you’d once claimed was beginning to fizzle out, everything coming back to sharpness once again, and yet somehow, just by being in his presence, you still felt that same freedom.

When you were sitting back at the table, he was staring at you with excitement now, watching as you lifted a spoonful of the concoction to your lips to try it, seemingly leaving behind the heavy conversation that had taken place as he simply moved on. You took a longer than needed time to assess it, humming contemplatively just to put him through his paces, before finally giving in.

“Okay, this is really good, I’ll give you that.”

“I told you so!” He cheered loudly, arms thrown up in the air, and you laughed a little, tucking into your meal, and wiping up one of the bread rolls that he'd placed into the middle of the table for you both.

You were tempted to ask him for the recipe, knowing that one day you’d be craving it again, and yet, you weren’t sure if you could, whether it would be appropriate or whether that would be crossing a line, to ask to take away a piece of something that he shared with his late mother.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.” You spoke, tearing off a mouthful of bread roll after dipping it into the soup mix, and chewing slowly as you waited for him to reply.  

“Did you mean it?” You paused your chewing, confusion making itself known on your face as you silently questioned what he meant, stirring your dinner with your spoon as you waited for him to elaborate, and he swallowed his mouthful to do so. “When you said my name sounded like a first draft of a name.”

For the umpteenth time today, embarrassment and regret was flooding through you, and you took your time to finish the food you were eating, his gaze lingering on you as he waited. When you couldn't stall any longer, you sipped at your water, before giving in. “Yes, I did.” His mouth pursed into a thin line, and you reached a hand out across the table, trying to contain your amusement. “Like, a really good first draft, though, almost there!”

“Nice save.”

Silence fell between you both once again, eating food in a comfortable quiet, and once again the direct parallel to this morning’s porridge struck through you, only twelve hours having passed and yet absolutely everything was different between you both. You couldn't put your finger on what it was about him, something that had caught your attention the first time around had now got you captive again, and there was just something adorably charming about everything he did.

Handsome but bashful, shy but cocky, always making jokes but somehow being able to jump right into something deep and meaningful too, and you’d closed yourself off for so long that it was a little scary for everything you were feeling to come rushing back all at once.

You hadn't had a crush since high school, and you weren’t sure if you liked the idea of one forming now.

“What about the other thing, did you mean that, too?” You searched your mind, reliving that argument as you tried to work out what he was referring to, and you almost dropped your spoon as it all came crashing down, remembering the harsh words that you’d spat in the eat of the moment, and yet it didn’t make them any less true. You only nodded your head, and he let out a loud groan, pouting a little. “Well, that fucking sucks.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, it’s really hard to do! Women are just better at doing that themselves, y’know? We don’t have to talk about it.”

“That doesn't help! You can’t just, like, drop a bomb on me like that; ‘hey, maybe you've never made a girl come in your entire freakin’ life’ and then say you don’t want to talk about it!” He pushed his empty dish away from himself, and your brows raised, arms crossing over atop the table, staring at him critically, and deciding you were finished with your food. “I want to talk!”

“No way! Guys can't handle constructive criticism like that! We’ll end up just like we were this morning, and then we’ll be back to square one! I like how we are now!”

“No! I promise you, I can take it. Just, help me out, here?” He reached out, pushing the dishes out of the way so that nothing was in the way, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. “You help me, I’ll help you.”

“What do you mean help me? You think you got pointers for me?”

“This isn’t a one-way street! Last night was awesome, but you could improve on a few things too. Guess you’ll never know, now, though.” He sighed, glancing off over your head, and you knew it was bait, some very obvious bait at that, and you hated to fall for it, but your own insecurities were getting the best of you, and you huffed loudly.

“Fine!” He turned back to you, a wicked smile on his lips as he realised that clearly, he had won. “I bite, you got me. Go!”

“Okay, this isn't just you, I just wanna’ make that clear to start with.” You raised a brow, leaning back in your chair, arm still crossed and listening intently. “What is with the whole lights off, thing? The fuck is that? If the lights are off, like you requested and I so gentlemanly obliged, I could be having sex with anything! I don’t want to be having sex with anything, I want to be having sex with you.” He paused, eyes darting away from you for only a second, and he wet his lips. “Or, y’know, whoever it is I’m with.”

“Lights on? Wow, and all guys feel this way?” He opened his mouth to reply, before you were letting out a loud ‘booing’ sound. “Duh! Girls hear that more than ‘hello’. That’s all you got?”

“Okay, okay, alright.” He smirked slightly, leaning forwards and resting his forearms on the table. “You, and by you, I mean women in general, do this thing where you stand up, and kinda’ turn away, and then get undressed, like, super-fast. Like you’re at the doctors or something, getting a physical!”

“I’ve never had any complaints about how fast I undress before. Most guys like naked me.”

“I love naked you.” He dropped his gaze, scanning along your body, and you threw a bread roll at him as you realised he was remembering you without your clothes on from the night before, the soft accompaniment bouncing from his head and rolling over the table. “Hey! I’m just saying! Naked you is awesome to look at, and touch, but what I mean is that you could make the getting to being naked part a little more exciting.”

“Exciting?”

“Yeah! You know, do that whole slow bra thing, take it off to the side. Drop it in that sexy way. Do that little ass thing with your panties, y’know, where you just-” He wiggled in his seat, demonstrating the little as movement that all girls did with their panties when they wanted to feel a little sexy. “All I’m saying is that guys like the undressing part too, make it more of a.. thing.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. One more thing.” He paused, this seemingly the one he was most nervous about, and you leaned forward on your elbows, watching him lean in a little too, rolling his lips before speaking. “When I was inside of you, you did this thing. You started helping yourself a little bit, it kind of made me feel like I was being benched. Second-string, forgotten.”

“Duly noted.” You mumbled, and he shrugged a little, the space between you both going void of sound but crackling with electricity. “Is it my turn now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t know who taught guys to do that alphabet thing with their tongue, but it kind of makes me feel like I’m Helen Keller being fucked by her teacher.”

“That’s not a fantasy of yours?” He faked shock, and you tried to cover up your laugh to keep the conversation as serious as you could, and he tried to still himself, nodding for you to continue.

“There was this one moment, during foreplay, where I was close to coming, and I’m pretty sure I subtly pointed it out. Do you remember what I said?”

“Uh, ‘I’m close to coming’?”

“Yes, that’s it!” He scowled falsely, unsure where you were going with this, and it was your turn to smirk a little. “Right after I said that, you totally switched up what you were doing. What was the thought process there? If you had me right there at third, home base in sight, why would you start running in a different direction?”

“Okay, got it. That’s actually helpful.”

“All my tips are helpful! Like, also, you waited for me to undress you. Which was awkward, and a little weird, don’t do that.” You were almost out of advice, pausing for a second to think. “When a girl helps out, that's a good thing! This is sex, not a competition, my ex was weird about that too, just embrace the team spirit, it makes it better for everyone.” He nodded, and you felt a little out of breath, but a weight lifted off your shoulders. “Oh! Yeah, you went too fast. I felt like I was being drilled for oil. Girls want fast, but also slow. Kinda’ felt like you were in a rush, had somewhere better to be.”

“Trust me, I didn’t.”

“Obviously.” You teased, and he grinned, taking in all the information you were giving him. “Lastly, I guess it’s just after. Like, as soon as we finished, you retreated to the other side of the bed like you’d planted a bomb down there. Stick around, hold a girl, count to ten or something. That one will get you a long way, trust me.”

“Cuddling. Noted.”

“Other than that, you were a perfectly adequate lover.” He gaped at you a little, and his whole body sagged.

“Adequate? What a way to boost a guy’s ego.”

“See, I knew this would happen, you’re-”

“Fine! I’m fine!” He reached out, placing a hand over one of yours, and squeezing comfortingly. “Seriously, now I know. I can make use of that advice next time.” He offered you a smile, and you tried to return it, nervous butterflies making you feel a little nauseous as you tried to settle yourself, no indication that he was angry or upset with you. “You said something about your ex in there, y’know. Is that why you broke up, crappy sex?”

You knew it was meant as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but your stomach dropped. “Uh, no.” You cleared your throat, hands pulling from his to clasp them in your lap as you looked away. “That would’ve been because I found him in our bed with one of my friends.”

The air went dead, silence encased you, and you heard the legs of his chair scrape on the floor as he pushed it back. Kneeling in front of you, he took your hands in his, forcing you to meet his eye. “I’m really sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“It’s okay. At least I know she isn't getting much.”

He chuckled, but it was dry and empty, and he reached up, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “For the record, I think he’s a dipshit. You’re an amazing girl, anybody who would cheat on you isn’t worth you.”

“Thanks, Joel.”

He stood up, pulling you with him, until you were standing up once again. “Go find another film. I’ll get us all sorted here. Anything you want, it’ll cheer you up.” You waited a moment longer, ready to do as he’d said, before a set of lips were brushing against your forehead, and your breath hitched in your throat. Pressing into the touch just a little, it was almost embarrassing how you reacted, how much you’d missed simple affections, how it felt to be excited around someone instead of just bored or dreading having to see them, the excitement of once again experiencing the thrill of something invigorating and new. “I’m honestly sorry for bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Kinda’ is.” He mumbled, fingers playing with yours lightly where your hands were still hanging connected, and the whole experience was a little different. This wasn’t a near-miss kiss while high after the intimacy of drawing one another, nor was it holding hands in the rush to get to the laundry room while hopped up on adrenaline and a little embarrassment. “He’s a moron, and he didn’t deserve you. Neither did your friend, if she’d do something like that to you.”

“They deserve each other.”

“Atta’ girl.” He teased, squeezing your hand once more, before letting you go, and as you settled down onto the couch cushions, you had to try hard just to steady your racing heart as you scroll through movies on Netflix, perched happily along the couch, but it was a little chilly, the space heater was barely holding its own against the chill of the outside.

“You got any blankets?” You didn’t even bother turning your head as you shouted the words, still exploring the film choices, and this time, you went for something a little more exciting. A ‘Mission Impossible’ movie was always a hit, right? Everybody loves Tom Cruise.

“Yes, I do.” You jumped, never having heard him moving around, and he stood before you, a fluffy looking blanket bundled in his arms, and you made grabby-hands for it with a grin. He shook his head, slumping down beside you on the ouch, and you bounced a little with the movements he made. “What, you think I read your mind? This blanket is for me, but I might just share it with you.”

“Yeah, what’s the catch?”

“You have to smile, so I know you’re really okay.” You couldn’t help it, trying to bite back the grin on your face as you flushed with shy heat, and he whooped loudly upon seeing the expression. Spreading the blanket out across you both, his fingers brushed across your skin, tucking it around your thighs and over your waist as he and sure you were covered, before his arm was stretching out along the back of the couch behind you.

“You’re too smooth for your own good.”

“Don’t get used to it, I’m incredibly awkward and not nearly as brave, usually.” You rolled your eyes, nudging your shoulder against his but not bothering to say anything, and starting up the movie.

Tucking your legs underneath yourself, you adjusted the blanket, your feet cold as you lifted them up from the cooled flooring, and directing your attention over to your phone. It had been hours since you’d check it, since you'd even felt the need to know whether anyone else had been in touch with you, and even as that realisation came to mind, you still didn’t budge to collect it.

Earlier in the day, you had been bitter and wishing to be home, where you’d inevitably only be locked up tight in your own bedroom and watching movies to pass the time away, listening to Sophie and her boyfriend move around the apartment, trapped in permanently third-wheeling until the snow melted. Now, you were happy, knowing that you’d made a new friend, and that you were at least venturing back out into the world for the first time since having your heart broken.

A hand came down, fingers playing with the edges of your hair lightly, twirling a light strand between his fingers, and as you swept your gaze over the man a foot or so away from you on the couch, his eyes were still fixed on the screen of the television. His fingers brushed against your neck occasionally, and each time, you had to suppress the urge to shiver. It was an invitation, the changing for day to night once again shifting everything between you both, unspoken words to invite you closer, easy for you to choose to take, or not to take, and nothing would be said about it at all.

Your entire body ran over with goosebumps, and your fingers picked lightly at the blanket, unsure of which move you wanted to make. On the one hand, you could definitely take that step, move a little closer and risk falling into that again, or you could stay where you were, play it safe and not risk a thing. Fold your cards and wait for the next round.

“I’ll just be a minute, okay?”

You stood up, his hand falling away from yourself and the blanket laying down on the couch, and he nodded his head, a barely present smile on his face as he nodded his head, and you slipped away, giving yourself just a moment to think as you disappeared to the bathroom. Closing the door behind yourself, you leaned back against it, letting out a deep breath and trying to clear your mind, weighing the pros and cons of where this night might go.

Shaking yourself down a little, you felt the tension flee from your body, and you placed your hands onto the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror hanging over it. You were always playing it safe, always had, and maybe that’s why your ex had adventured and found excitement somewhere else, needing the thrill of it, because you never took risks.

If you hadn't taken a risk last night, you wouldn't be here now, and after all, you’d had a great day. Maybe it would blow up and backfire, maybe when the snow melted you’d never see him again, maybe it wouldn't work out, but you’d never know if you didn’t at least try.

“Oh, woman up. For once in your life.” You muttered, running the water and splashing a little of the cool liquid over your face, refreshing yourself with just how icy cold it was, a little hiss leaving you. Shaking your hands off and patting your face dry, you ran a hand through your hair, deciding you were ready. Uncapping the toothpaste, you took a small chunk from it on your finger, placing the blob onto your tongue and licking it around your mouth for freshness, doing the best you could to clean your teeth a little, before using your hands as a cup and rinsing with some water.

At least you felt a little fresher and more alluring now. A good confidence booster, because fuck it, you were all in.

Stepping back out into the main room, you undid the zipper on the hoodie of his that you’d borrowed, letting it hang open along the front, the thin satin of your camisole on display, the material falling away from one shoulder as it hung baggy on your body now that it was open. Upon your return, he turned to look at you, lips parting a little as his eyes flickered along your body, gaze lingering on the exposed skin of your shoulder, your arms, the midriff shown between the edge of your top and the hem of your leggings, before his jaw was snapping shut, and he met your eyes again, only for a split second, before looking back to the movie.

Lifting the edge of the blanket, you sat a little closer to him than you had been before, your arm brushing against his side as you got comfy, and you heard him let out a slightly shaky breath, fingers tapping against the back of the couch, behind where your head had once been, now further down the couch as you sat close enough to smell the lingering aftershave on his skin.

Five long minutes passed, and you almost thought you’d overstepped, that he didn’t want this as much as you thought he would, that the connection was one-sided, but then his hand slipped down, fingers brushing over the bare skin of your shoulder on the side where the jacket had dipped down, nails scraping slightly, before the rest of his arm followed. Slipping it around your shoulders, his hand hung over you, playing lightly with the spaghetti strap of your top, running along the silky material, under it, playing with it in slow and absentminded patterns, and you contained yourself from celebrating out loud, or doing something that wouldn't be considered as ‘playing it cool’.

You paused, giving it just enough time, the feeling of roughened fingertips rubbing along your skin, and after a moment, you realised it was being inched a little further over. As the strap fell away, falling over your arm again, his movements paused, everything going still for just a second, before his fingertips were pressing to bare skin again. Twisting towards him a little more, you pressed up to his side, lifting a leg until the lower half of your legs were tangled together as they sat ahead of you, propped up on the coffee table.

He hummed a little under his breath, your head adjusting to rest on his shoulder, and he dared to reach his fingers a little lower than just along your shoulder, brushing as far as the undersides of your collarbones, and you cuddled in a little closer to him still.

“I can’t stop thinking about what you said.” His words were gruff, voice low and gravelling as he kept his tone to just above a whisper, and you rolled your lips together for a second, trying to settle on your words.

“And what would that be?”

“Well, y’know, all the improvements I could make. I’ve been thinking about it.” You only hummed, fingers smoothing over his stomach and across towards his side until you were holding onto him, and the muscles underneath tensed and rippled under the soft cotton tee he was wearing. “But, I’d never really know if I was getting it right until I put it into practice.”

“Well, that does make sense.”

“Yeah, and I mean, I’d need someone who could tell me, give me real talk.” He was continuing on with the rouse, the playful energy between you both sparkling, and the movie was long-forgotten, simply becoming background noise.

“Makes sense. Someone to guide you as you go.”

“Exactly.” He mumbled, turning himself enough to drag the tip of his nose over your cheek, and you tipped your head back a little, making it easier for him as his lips brushed your cheek. “Know anyone up for the task?”

“I think I might know someone.” You whispered, hand coming up to lace into his hair, and he rumbled happily at the scrape of your nails over his scalp.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You promised, and he grinned, shifting enough to let his mouth slant across yours, a kiss that was more than overdue. Lifting a hand to sit on his jaw, he pressed into you a little further, one hand still behind the couch, while the other was sliding down to find your waist, the blanket falling away and the movie becoming nothing but background noise as his lips worked softly with your own.

You’d expected hot and sloppy, but he was taking it slower this time, sweet and passionate, not nearly as desperate as you’d been anticipating, and your heart was racing in your chest with the tenderness in which he kissed you. Once the blanket was kicked from your legs, his hand dipped a little lower, smoothing around your lower back, and pulling you in towards him until you could drape a leg over his thighs. Settling into his lap, both of hands were sitting low on your hips, teeth grazing along your lower lip as the what between you both seemed to double, and you pressed a little closer into him.

“Put your hands, just-” You took a hold of his wrists, lowering his hands a little, your forehead pressed to his as you pushed them around until he could hold fistfuls of your ass through your leggings, squeezing tightly, and you keened into his touch. Rocking your hips down into his own, you gasped, his grunt at the feeling being silenced as your lips closed back over his, and he hummed happily when your tongue dragged slowly against his.

For each rock you made down into him, his hips were jumping, small thrust upwards to meet you, and it became more frantic with every little movement. He was growing underneath you, the material of his sweats doing little to hide the hardening cock that seemed to twitch and jump each time you dragged your core along his length, even through the layers of material, and you could feel yourself growing wetter and weather, uncomfortably so the longer your went, but the pressure was perfect, an orgasm already beginning to grow within you.

When the burn for oxygen became too much, he pulled back, lips worked along your jaw slowly, soft sucks that weren’t hard enough to leave bruises but sent sparks of electricity and excitement flooding through you each time, nips at your skin as he worked his way down your neck, until he was biting teasingly at the shoulder with the strap of your top still hanging over your arm, bare skin exposed to him. “You know, not a criticism, just a compliment, but you really got kissing down to an art.”

He chuckled against your skin, a little breathless, but still enough to make you tremble at the feeling, before he was making his way back up to you, nose dragging over your skin until his mouth could brush against yours. “Is that so?”

“Totally.” You mumbled, your hand slipping into his hair to hold onto a fistful as his mouth crashed back into your own, and he put those skills to good use. He all but knocked the oxygen from your lungs with the intensity of it, leaving your head spinning and lungs burning but you were unable to pull away, the addictive way that his mouth worked with your own, so sensual and intimate that you were flaring up with heat, and you finally knew what it felt like when people said there were fireworks in a kiss, because you felt as though the fourth of July was exploding around you.

“Bedroom?”

“Absolutely.” You mumbled, having to tear yourself away from his kisses, diving back in a few times, before finally, you managed to pull yourself away. You took his hands in your own, pulling him up with you as the two of you moved, and his hands found your hips, guiding you in your backwards walking steps as he followed behind you; foreheads pressed together, occasionally pressing sweet kisses to one another, giggles shared into the air between you until you came to a stop in the doorway.

Turning around, you paused, more of a laugh erupting from you.

“First criticism, messy sheets is a turn off.” He sounded confused for a second, mouth leaving where he had been kissing along your neck, his head coming up to take a look, and he huffed a little.

“Right, yeah, forgot about that. Let me just-” He moved away, on side of the bed to straighten the blankets out, pushing the pillows back up to the top end of the bed, and you helped out, smoothing over them until the job was done haphazardly, but at least it least it was no longer messy, and he stood on the opposite side from you, hands on his hips for a second. “Better?”

“Much.” He nodded his head, licking over his lips, and taking the lower one prisoner as his gaze swept over you, His hair was a little messy, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, and you were certain that you looked exactly the same, the tension between the two of you sizzling. You couldn't handle it, the two of you meeting halfway as you knelt on the bed, his body colliding with yours and lips meeting in frenzied kisses as you connected again.

He reached a hand behind his head, tugging his shirt up and away from his body, a delicious display of flexing muscles and veiny forearms as he discarded of it, shaking the hair that flopped down into his face free.

“That was hot.”

“All I did was take off my shirt?” He whispered, pulling back when you tried to kiss him so that he could raise his brows in silent questioning.

“We like that. When you do that whole ‘taking your shirt off with one hand behind your head’ thing. Plus, you just looked good while doing it.” He looked down at himself, before back up to you, hands cupping your face to bring you in closer to him, and he pressed a series of pecks to your lips, until you were laughing lightly and pushing him back with hands spread over his chest.

He followed you as you stood, and you undid the rest of the zip on the hoodie, letting it fall open, and down your arms slowly, and he watched it go, until the material was crumpled in a pile around your feet. Placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him backwards, until his knees were buckling against the mattress and he was sitting down, staring up at you with wide eyes and parted lips, waiting for your next move. With a finger under his chin, you tipped his face upwards, enough to be able to peck his lips, before you were stepping away from him.

Turning away, you heard him shuffling, the ruffling of material and the slight creaking of the bed, before it was silent, and you took a steadying breath. Crossing your arms over your middle, you tugged the satin top up slowly, brushing your own fingers over your skin, and you heard him groan behind you as it hit the floor, hair falling back down your back upon being freed from the material. Hooking your fingers into the edge of your leggings, you peeled them down your legs, bending at the waist, and removing them from your feet, slowly, before turning back to face him, clad only in your panties.

His eyes were half-lidded, and jaw hanging slack, only clad in his boxers now, but he was palming himself through the material as he sat propped up in the pillows, and you rounded to his side of the bed, one of his hands reaching out for you, and you took it, a gentle hold as his fingers weaved with yours.

“How was that?”

“So fucking hot.” He mumbled, the hand that he had been using to rub at his hard cock through his boxers came free, a wet patch left across the front of the pale checkered fabric, precum soaking into them and your thighs clenched at the idea of having that effect on him. Running the tip of one finger under the waistband of your panties, he tugged you a little closer to him still, before snapping the elastic against your skin. “What about these?”

“Figured you might want to do that.”

Your eyes dropped to his mouth, before meeting his gaze again, only a split second slip, but he was smirking, clearly having seen it. Before you could even process what he was doing, his arms had wrapped around your middle, twisting you around and lifting you to lay in the bed beside where he had been, your head in the pillows and his arms holding him up on either side of you, and you panted a little, the yelp that had left you making you breathless.

“Holy shit.”

“Couldn’t help it. You say dirty things and it makes me feel a little wild.” His legs were caging you in, moving lower and lower as he kissed his way over your collarbones, lips and tongue leaving wet trails between your breasts as he lowered himself further and further.

“Wild is good. I like wild.”

“Hm, I hope so.” He whispered the words, tongue grazing along the sensitive skin above your panties, before he was tapping at your hips with his fingers, and you were lifting them for him to shimmy your panties down. Once you were bare before him, you grew a little shy once again, legs snapping shut, and he chuckled, a hand landing on each knee, and he pressed kisses along the tops of your thighs. “Please don’t be shy, gorgeous. You’re so damn beautiful, you have nothing to be shy about.”

Squeezing his hands at your knees, you twitched a little, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to peer down at him, and he grinned, pressing a kiss to your stomach, before leaning up and pressing an equally quick but sweet kiss to your lips.

“Open up your pretty legs for me, yeah?”

You couldn't hold back, the way he was talking to you and touching you, loving caresses that soothed your nerves, and he groaned under his breath as your slick core was revealed to him. Legs bending at the knees, you planted your feet flat on the bedding, and he was able to settle on his stomach between them, hot breath fanning over your core.

His arms wrapped around your thighs, fingertips digging into them roughly, and he rubbed a hand up and down them slowly, the twitching in your gut coming to a still as he still managed to find time and sentience to ease your nerves as he pressed his mouth in sweet kisses along the insides of your thighs, biting a little at the top and chuckling as he felt you jerk in surprised shock. Lacing a hand into his hair just as his mouth moved to close over your core, you tugged lightly, his eyes flickering up to find yours. “What’s wrong, gorgeous? Did I mess something up?”

“No, no, you’re perfect.” Your words were panted out, and you were trembling while holding yourself up, but you shook your mind clear, trying to focus enough to break through the haze. “Just wanted to say thank you. You’re being such a sweetheart, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this confident before, so before my mind completely clears, I wanted to say that.”

He paused, a look flicking over his features to expose that he clearly didn’t expect that, and there was a much more adoring smile on his face as he processed your words. “It’s my pleasure, you’re worth it, and you deserve a guy to treat you like the special and incredible woman that you are.”

You choked a little on your breath, unsure of how to reply, so you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding your head, before pushing his back down a little. “Okay, enough heart-to-heart crap. You can continue now.”

“As you wish, princess.”

He dragged his tongue once along your core slowly, and you took a sharp inhale of breath, the feeling of a hot and wet mouth working over you was something that you’d sorely missed, and while Joel had gone down on you yesterday too, this would be so much better and you already knew it. Instead of rushed and nervous, it was erotic and confident, sure in your movements, and sure that he could be the best you’d ever had, you could tell just from the way this night was going so far, that these memories would be burned in your mind for the rest of your life.

Rubbing a thumb over your clit, he chuckled at the way your thighs trembled slightly, before he was pulling away, diving in to replace his finger with his mouth. Lips sucking at the little bud, your fingers tightened in his hair, back arching at the feeling, and he licked over the bud, before repeating the process. Again, and again, and then, he was replacing his movements. Tongue flicking out, rapid kitten licks over the bud, and you squealed a little, thighs clamping around his head as you did, and you whined a little.

“Wait, Joel!” He paused after a moment, your entire body still tingling with the feeling of his mouth, but your legs loosened as he pulled them open, brows raising at you, and slick was already glistening on his chin. “Good, but can be better. Start slow, don’t go right in, tease me a little. Speed up when I’m closer, okay?”

“I thought girls hated being teased?”

“We can love it, if you do it right. You’ll know when to speed up, okay? Start slow, add a finger, then another, speed up when I’m getting close.” He nodded his head, a lopsided smile on his face, and he was taking your advice. He started slow, a long and torturous drag of his tongue over your core, and then again, before his tongue circled your entrance for a moment, barely dipping inside long enough to matter, but then he lapped at your core again. Lips sealing around your clit, he sucked harshly, your back arching up from the bed, your free hand finding purchase tangling in the bedding, and you moaned, loudly. “Fuck, yes, Joel. Just like that.”

He groaned into your body, the feeling reverberating along your skin, and one hand moved from your thigh, slipping along and disappearing from your skin until the tip of one nimble digit was circling your entrance, rubbing lightly across your weeping hole. Filthy sounds were already filling the room, and your mind was going completely blank, the only thing you could process right now was the movements of his mouth against you, tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you crazy as you bucked up into him, holding his face against your core as he slurped and sucked at every drop you had to release.

Slipping that finger into you, he had clearly taken our tip on teasing, because he only sunk it within you to the first knuckle, barely present at all, and yet your walls were clamping around him greedily, desperately trying to draw him deeper in as you felt him twist it a little, circling the finger and beginning to stretch you out, crooking it at the knuckle and tugging a little in your entrance as he began to pump it. A cry of his name left you as he bit down on your swollen clit lightly, the bud throbbing in response, and your entire body jumped at the sensation, loving the way he was taking control with it now.

Each time his finger dipped back into you, he sank a little further, his finger and tongue working in harmony, the same pace with their movements, and your entire body was layered in a thin sheen of shining sweat as he took you apart piece by piece. His hips were grinding down into the covers as he worked, the rustling of the covers giving it away, and he was grunting and growling against your every so often, his eyes closed as he enjoyed his motions just as much as you did, and you forced your hand free from him hair as you realised just how tight your fist had gotten. Just when you thought you might be getting used to this feeling, that you might be able to clear the fog in your mind enough to think straight, he sensed it, upping his ministrations.

“Fuck, Joel!” The coil in your stomach wound up ten times tighter in a matter of seconds as that dull tingling at your entrance made itself known, a second finger taking you by surprise as it plunged inside of you, and your back arched up so high your hips followed, borderline screaming as he picked up his pace. “I-I’m going to-”

“Come? Do it, come on, gorgeous. Give me all you got.” Faster movements, the tandem between his fingers and his mouth going to shit, as he continued to work his fingers in and out of you slowly, but his tongue was picking up his pace again. Switching between sucking and licking, you could barely process what was happening each time, and tears lined your eyes as you felt fire beginning to consume you.

Heat flooded your body, bliss filling every cell in your body and coursing through you until it was all-consuming, and you unravelled against him in a fit of squirming screams, his hands holding you to his mouth as he rode you through the pleasure, two fingers stretching you wide and scissoring you open each time, never giving up on his movements until you couldn't take it anymore.

You pushed him away, panting and gasping for breath, and his eyes were blown with lust as he pulled away, cheeks and chin shining with your arousal, your hand falling over your chest, feeling the erratic beating of your heart under your palm as your eyes closed, trying to contain the way you were feeling. Your throat was already scratchy, growing rough from the calls and cries of his name that you’d released.

“Good?”

“Is that even a question?” You teased, and he collapsed down into the bed beside you, wiping the back of his hand over his jaw, before you leaned in to kiss him, taking his lips with your own, and he let out a needy sound into your mouth as you did. He was rubbing at his jaw, pressing his lips lazily with your own as you kissed him, and he pressed you back down into the bed, leaning over you and letting his body press into yours.

One hand moved to his boxers, pushing them down, kicking them away until they were removed from his body. Leaning over you, a dripping cock brushed along your thigh, your leg raising up a little to rub against him, and he grunted into your mouth, biting down on your lower lip in warning, as he rooted through the nightstand to find a condom. Upon retrieving the package, he sat back on his heels, tearing it with his teeth and throwing the wrapper to the ground, a problem to be dealt with later, and he rolled the rubber along his length.

Long and flushed red, his cock was standing tall and proud, and you rubbed your thighs together a little, watching as he pumped himself slowly, eyes dragging over your body. You could see the cogs working in his mind, before he backed away from you entirely. Moving to the switch on the wall, he turned down the lights, leaving them on a little, but lowering them to a more comfortable level.

“Compromise?”

“I can work with that.” You offered, holding your hands out to him, and the bed bounced a little as he came to laying over the top of you. One leg was pressed between yours, and you shuffled, pressing yourself down against the muscle of his thigh, and a deep sound bubbled up from within him as you rode yourself against his thigh, kissing along his neck, and his head tipped back.

“For the record, I like hickies.”

You paused, a beat passing, before your mouth was sealing over the patch where his neck joined his shoulders, and he groaned loudly as you sucked at the skin harshly. Tipping his head back, his arms trembled a little dipping down until your chests were pressed together, and with every rolled of your core against his leg, your chest dragged over his, the friction making your nipples grown perky, and you whimpered into his neck, lapping at the spot you were abusing.

When you were finished, you pressed a sweet kiss over it, purple already beginning to blossom beneath the splotchy red on his pale skin, and he let out a shaky breath. Brushing your thumb over it, you smirked at the mark you’d made, before finally looking back up to him. Reaching a hand between your bodies, you took his cock in your hand, pumping slowly and watching as his jaw dropped slightly, before you were shifting your legs to accommodate his body and lining his length up at your core.

He rocked forwards, sinking into you slowly, and just like that, everything went fuzzy around you once again. It was like he was your only focus, everything was falling away until it was only him that remained, and your hands found his cheeks, pulling him down to kiss you. You were drowning in his touch, his hips nestled against your own as he gave you a moment to adjust to his size with you, that same twinge of an ache you’d felt this morning coming back in full force, but overpowered by the racing lust that was taking over.

When you felt ready, you clenched around him, curling your hips and feeling his cock shift within you, a gasp falling from you as the head of his cock brushed over your g-spot, and he took that chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Hot and wet, everything felt like it was in overdrive as you lit up, and his hands were pressed into the mattress on either side of your head as he began to shift, hips drawing out of you, before sinking back in, and he took his time, moving slowly and waiting for you to tell him when he could speed up.

Lifting a leg up and onto his hip, he sank even deeper within you, your walls fluttering around him as you let out joint sounds of pure ecstasy, and his movements stuttered for only a moment at the feeling. One hand came down, fingertips digging into the muscle of your thighs so tightly that you’d be speckled with little polka dot bruises come morning, a sinful thought that made you head spin. You felt carefree, for the first time in your life, there was no doubts or anxiety, just the way it felt to be touched and cared for by him, the way his gaze swept so delicately over your face, or the way his lips puckered a little, curling up at the sides in a smile when your mouth pressed to his.

Hooking your hands under his arms, you encouraged him on, nails digging into his skin and dragging tracks into the flesh, his back arching up to push into your touch, and his pace began to pick up. He took his time, building the pace, and you’d never felt like this before. A high you’d never experienced was beginning to set in, your hips moving in time to match his thrusts.

He was panting into your mouth, hot and erotic as your foreheads remained pressed together, his lashes tickling against your cheeks, and every soft moan of your name that he let out made you want to scream out with pure bliss, because the way his voice cracked around your name made everything within you crumble. He made you weak, he made you completely fall apart, and you weren’t sure how or why, yet you found yourself loving it.

It was raw and exposed, your heart and soul open to him, and instead of crushing it like you’d grown to expect from everyone around you, he was taking care of it. You pushed up into him, pleasure surging through you, broken stutters of his name as he fucked into you, hard and fast, driving deep, and the tip of his cock was pressing to your g-spot each time, pinpoint accuracy as you weren't sure if he even knew that he was making stars flash behind your eyes.

“Joel, don’t stop! I’m so close!”

You moved, licking over two fingers, and making to slip them between your bodies to find your clit, to spur your orgasm on as best you could, but as you moved, he lifted a hand, snatching yours in his own and pinning it to the bed, and a loud moan rippled through you from the dominance he asserted. He seemed almost surprised, for only as second, before his brows were raising. “You liked that, huh? Shoulda’ told me.”

“That’s not general advice, you wanted general advice.”

He shook his head, leaning back down to brush the tip of his nose over your own. “Maybe I’d prefer it if you tailored the advice to yourself specifically. Tell me how to drive you wild.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, I like it when you take control of me a little bit.” He nodded his head, seeming to catch on, and he sat back leaving you laying in the bed as the angle changed. Two fingers prodded at your lips, and he raised his brows, waiting for you to draw them into your mouth, wetting the digits thoroughly for him. When he deemed them sufficiently slick, he pulled them back, trailing them down along your body, before pressing down roughly onto the neglected bud between your thighs, crying out for attention to push you over the edge.

As you tumbled into that bliss, he continued going, until your body was jerking and quivering underneath him, and you were crying out his name, clenching so hard around his cock that his head fell back as he gripped at your thigh with his other hand, kneeling between your parted legs and tucked snugly between your spasming walls. “Jeez, you’re so fucking tight.”

He collapsed down over you, sweaty and warm, covering your body with his entirety as he tried to catch his breath, and your eyes were still rolled back in your head, coming back to focus as you slipped back down to earth from the heaven he'd taken you to. “That was incredible.”

“You bet your cute little ass it was.”

You chuckled, feeling him shuffle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Locking your knees on either side of his hips, you flipped him over, his eyes wide as he found himself on his back, your hand finding his cock as you sank back down, shivering at the feeling as the aftermath of your last orgasm was still racing through you, and he let out a long and deep sound that vaguely resembled your name, hands finding your waist and pulling you the rest of the way down as he fucked up into you.

“You don’t have to, really-”

“You know, you’re pretty much the first guy I’ve ever been with who didn’t come first, and who genuinely cared about my pleasure.” Your nails scratched over his chest a little, making him shudder at your touch, before you were leaning down, hair drawing around you both, and he stared up at you in awe. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He nodded, a hand tangling toughly in your hair, and he pulled you backwards, sitting up with you in his lap so that your legs could wrap around his waist more fully, your arms looping his neck, holding you as close as he possibly could. You whined at the feeling of your stinging scalp, loving the way he was manhandling you now, and he knew it too, his lips descending to your throat as he used his other hand to guide the movements of your hips.

“Tell me what to do, I don’t go on top a lot. Tell me what’s good, that’s what you’re supposed to do.” You were pleading with him, desperate to know how you could make him feel as good as you’d made him.

“What you’re doing right now is good.” He mumbled, but as you rolled your hips back down into his with what little space there was, his lips moving over your body until he could lean you back, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking one perky bud into his mouth. You cried out his name, his fist tangled into your hair to hold you still, and you tried to form thoughts, your first attempts at speaking coming out as broken stutters.

“Please, Joel..”

“Please what, gorgeous? Tell me what you need.” He cooed the words out, and you let out a desperate sound, your hips slamming down into his, and your hands found his chest, pushing him back into the bed, hearing the rush of breath he let out.

“Tell me what you want.”

He stared at you, blinking those beautiful brown eyes for a second, before giving in. “Honestly, I just want you to ride me like a pornstar. Go fucking wild, it’s so fucking sexy. When your tits bounce, and you slam yourself onto my cock, hair messy and a little sweaty, that's what I want.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly and bracing yourself on his chest, before you moved more solidly onto your knees, beginning to bounce against him. His jaw dropped, watching the movements of your chest, watching as you leaned back to show off the bouncing of your breasts before him as you built your confidence, and after getting past your anxieties, you were faced with the raging build of confidence that came with being on top.

He was staring at you like you’d put the lights in the sky, and you were, for once, glad that there were lights on to see him and for him to see you, to watch every movement you were making, because pure thrill was written on his face, adoration and lust as he stared, before you were taking one of his hands. Dragging it over your body, you sealed his fingers around one of your tits, pushing into his hands when he took control, fingers tweaking with your nipples, and he raised the other to do that same.

You were close, and you could tell he was too, the breathless way that he was beginning to chant your name on repeat, the way you were sure that the feeling of his cock tapping against every spot within you was going to be burned into your mind for the rest of your life, and the look on his face as he finally neared that peak.

“You look so fucking good. Taking what you want, riding me, absolutely perfect up there.”

“Only because that's how you want to see me, right now.” You whispered, and he shook his head, his hands finding your hips, waiting for you to lift yourself up, and as you did, he slammed you back down onto him, meeting you as he fucked up into you, and your body fell forwards in shock, barely catching yourself before your forehead hit his own, breath shared between you once again. His feet adjusted on the bed, bending at the knee to sit flat and he set a brutal pace, driving the both of you towards your final peak and he drilled into you.

Your eyes crossed, vision spotting, and a scream of his name was torn from you with force as you crashed into yet another earth-shattering orgasm at his touch, the sound of his cries of complete joy seeming muffled as he chased after you over the cliff, falling into orgasmic bliss. He rode the pair of you out, strained and weakening movements as your bodies trembled together, until finally, he stopped, completely sent off all energy, and you collapsed against his chest.

His heart was thudding against his chest under your cheek, your nails scratching lightly at the patch of dark hairs between lightly defined pecs, and he wrapped his arms around you. Rolling you to the side, he was reluctant to leave the bed, letting out a loud sound of distaste ta having to do so, but didn’t travel far, simply far enough to undo the rubber on his cock and tie it up, wrapping it in some tissues and dropping the crumpled heap into the bin.

When he came back over, he lay down beside you on his back, one hand under his head and the other stretched out towards you. As you lay on your stomach, shuffling closer to him, you lifted yourself onto your elbows, peering down at him with a small smile. “So, that was, like, the best sex ever. Right?”

You grinned, head ducking to hide the bashful expression you wore, but you were laughing nonetheless. “Ever.”

“I wish all girls were as cool as you. Like, sex would just be so much better if everyone just had that kind of communication, because, holy shit, that was mindblowing.” His hand came up beside his head, making an exploding noise as his fingers made the motion, as though his head really had exploded, and you grinned, feeling his fingers brush over your skin as he lowered it back down.

Quiet fell between you both, but it was comfortable, nice and easy-going, and you weren’t sure how to break the silence now, but neither was he, though it didn’t matter. When the temperatures that had risen in your body during your sinful act began to come back down, you found yourself cold once again, tucking yourself under the blankets and curling in a little closer to him, fingers brushing through his hair to distract yourself as he lay, staring up at you.

“Y’know, you said something, during it all..”

“You told me to give you advice! Don’t get pissy about it now.” Your joke was taken in good spirits, a loud laugh leaving him, and the burning gaze he’d mixed you with was broken for a few moments as his eyes closed to revel in his amusement, but when the laughter died down, he was looking at you again, with just as much intensity.

“Not that. You said you only thought you only looked good because I wanted you to look good.” His hand found your cheek, forcing you to find his gaze as he spoke. “That wasn’t true. You’re so fucking beautiful, and just because one dumbass broke your heart, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t think of yourself as not being worthy. It only leads to more heartbreak. Don’t let his stupid actions take away from your value.”

“You know, you’re real wise on all this stuff.” His thumb brushed over your lips, and you puckered your lips to press a kiss to the pad of the finger. “Who broke your heart, Joel?”

“What makes you think I’ve had my heart broken?”

“Takes one to know one.” You whispered, and he let out a little sigh, gaze trailing off to stare at the ceiling.

“Her name was Aimee. We were together in high-school. We got into different colleges, and I was so sure we could make a long-distance thing work.” You cringed a little, keeping it internal, already guessing where this was going, but letting him talk. “We did phone calls and video chats, and I went to see her so often, every chance I could, in first year. But then second year came, and everything got busy, and I didn’t get to see her as often as I would’ve liked. I was waiting for the summer break to go and see her. When I got there, things were different, she told me it had changed, that she’d fallen for someone else and just didn’t know how to tell me. She figured we’d just fizzle out, that we had been fading. We broke up officially, but, it didn’t hurt her as much as it hurt me.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“That’s alright.” He murmured, fingers tracing up and down your arm, and you settled into a comfortable quiet once again.

You were hesitant to admit it to yourself, but you were growing rather fond of the man, your hookup having become so much more. The snow, the cold weather, two broken hearts and a stupid hook up site, and suddenly, you’d found someone who had managed to change your life in a lot of little ways, all in just twenty-four hours.

You turned, finding the man already watching you, lips curled up in a sweet smile and eyes lazily drooped, simply watching you as the thoughts and feelings raced through your mind, and yet, under his gaze, they all seemed to go silent. The worries, the constant surge of ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ all faded away, and you reached out a finger, tapping at the tip of his nose.

His expression somehow managed to morph into something even sweeter, practically giving you a toothache as his nose scrunched up adorably, before he was folding both hands under his head, moving to tangle his legs with yours, and simply sighing a little.

Golden and low lighting made his features seemed a little sharper, shadows on his face highlighting his jaw, cheekbones standing prominent and hair darker, and you knew just how soft it was, strands pushed back out of his face by you. The dark mark on his neck was making itself known now, and you were sure your own body would soon be littered in them, and you would check them all out with pride in the morning.

You turned to look at him again, drawing yourself back out of the spiral in your mind you’d once again fallen victim to, and meeting his gaze with a heatless huff. “What are you staring at?”

“Just.. you.” His brows pulled together a little, eyes sweeping across your face again in a way that made you feel raw and on the edge of your emotions. He lifted a hand, pushing your hair away behind your ears, before settling a hand over your jaw, and stroking his thumb across your skin slowly and soothingly.

“Yeah, well, don’t.” You whispered, voice cracking, and your gaze left his, but his touch never fell away, even when you tried to duck your head. “Don’t look at me like that, not unless you plan to act on it.”

“Oh, I would love to act on it. When this snow melts, I’d like to act on it properly.”

“Like.. a date?” You questioned, eyes flicking up to his for only a moment, and he was beaming what you did, toothy smile showing off his joy for only you to see.

“Exactly like a date, if you’ll have me?”

“Depends.” You murmured, shuffling in closer to him for warmth. “Can I share the bed with you tonight, or are you kicking me back out to the couch?”

He wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you down into his chest as the pair of you laughed, cocooning yourselves in the blankets with a series of rolls and twists, until you pressed up tightly together and locked in such a way. “There, now you’re not going anywhere.” He dipped down, pressing a kiss to your lips, one that you were eager to reciprocate. “Me and the bed are all yours, gorgeous.”

“I like the sound of that.”

[wisteriashouse]

three pointer.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, romance, college!au

word count: 2453

remarks: for @kyojoroo​ who mentioned something about a college!au for kyojuro!! this is a bit of an ugly draft, but i just wanted to post it anyway (because i spent too much time on it) i hope you enjoy it!

“Great game!” 

“Yeah, you were a beast on the court, captain!”

“That last shot was insane! We wouldn’t have won without you!”

“Thanks, everyone,” Kyoujurou laughs as he steps into the communal showers, peeling off his basketball jersey as he goes. After a whole after non of so called friendly matches against a rival college, Kyoujurou can’t wait to get into the showers to wash all the sweat and grime that has accumulated off his body. “We all did great today, not just me. It’s our victory.”

“Oh, stop it with the humility, Rengoku, it’s embarrassing to watch,” someone shoves his shoulder playfully from the back - Kyoujurou turns around to see Tengen grinning at him as he steps into the shower next to his, tossing his own jersey to the side. “I’ll eat my gym socks if the headhunters aren’t brawling over you at this year’s nationals. They’ll be like a bunch of piranhas trying to get a piece of that ass.”

Kyoujurou shakes his head, but there’s a pleased smile curling at the corners of his lips. “Let’s just focus on making it to the finals firsts,” he says with a quick laugh, stripping off his shorts and stepping into the shower. Cold water runs down his back, splashes over his face. He glances at the clock hanging on the wall.

Five minutes to eight.

He reaches for the soap just as one of his teammates starts asking around where the rest want to head to for dinner. There’s a smattering of replies from the team, consisting of answers ranging from Wendy’s to the sushi place down the street, punctuated by the sound of running water. Kyoujurou, however, does not answer, focusing his attention on rinsing his hair clean of any soap suds before he’s reaching for his towel to dry himself off. 

Tengen, who’s in the shower next to him, notices how quickly he’s moving.

“What’s with the rush?” Tengen calls as Kyoujurou roughly dries his hair. “Are you that eager to head to dinner? Or,” his smile turns sly, “is it because of the cute waitress there who has the hots for you?”

“What? Don’t be stupid,” Kyoujurou reaches for his shirt, tugging it over his head and casting another glance at the clock. Eight o’ clock now. Damn, he’s late. “Besides, I’m not having dinner with you guys today. I have something else on.”

Tengen raises his eyebrows so fast Kyoujurou thinks that they might just fly off his forehead. “You have something else on?” He repeats, so loudly he might as well be trying to broadcast it to Mars. And to nobody’s surprise, least of all Kyoujurou’s, everyone in the showers is immediately aware of Kyoujurou’s dinner plans.

“Ehh? Captain, you’re not coming with us for dinner?”

“Yeah, we were gonna treat you and have some drinks after!”

“No, no, everyone, let him go,” Tengen’s eyes glint, and instantly Kyoujurou knows that his thoughts are ballooning far beyond the reaches of reality. “He’s definitely got himself a date, fucking finally-” Kyoujurou slaps a hand over Tengen’s mouth to shut him up before another word can leave him. The man might be one of his best friends, but god can he be annoying sometimes.

“I am going to dinner with a friend.” Kyoujurou emphasizes on the word ‘friend’. Tengen waggles his eyebrows very suggestively at him.

“A very… flamboyant type of friend?” He suggests, and Kyoujurou throws his towel at him. This, unfortunately, only serves to make Tengen all the more insufferable than he already is, the man dissolving into a bout of uncontrollable laughter. Kyoujurou groans.

“Stop it.” Sending one last look at the clock, he gathers up his things and shoves them into his backpack before pulling on his varsity jacket as fast as he can. “I’m meeting a very friend sort of friend for dinner, so don’t get any funny ideas. And stop it with the moaning noises,” he directs his last comment at Tengen, who’s still laughing at him. “I’ll see you guys for training tomorrow!”

As expected, a few shout goodbye in return while the rest hoot and holler for him to introduce them to his ‘special friend’ soon. With a quiet laugh and a shake of the head, Kyoujurou steps out of the sports hall, grateful for the cool evening air against his warm cheeks. Really, why do they feel the need to tease him like that?

He’s just about to take off at a light jog when his phone vibrates in the front pocket of his jeans.

Wincing around a slight smile, he hits ‘answer’ and raises the phone to his ear without a glance at the caller ID, the soles of the shoes slapping lightly against the pavement as he picks up a steady pace.

“Hey.” Kyojuro says. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too breathless.

“You’re late.”

“We went into overtime and the match ended late.” The lights are red when he reaches the crossroads, so he slows his pace and takes a moment to catch his breath. A car honks loudly opposite him. “Sorry about that.”

“Hmm.” A noncommittal noise, and then a pause. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Dinner?” He repeats. The lights turn green, and he begins to jog once more. “Uhh… a double cheeseburger set and a coke zero.” It’s difficult to run and talk at the same time, more so over the phone with his backpack jostling with every step he takes. 

“Tempura side?”

A short bark of laughter leaves him. “You know me too well.” There’s a smile stubbornly clinging to his lips. He doesn’t want to get rid of it.

“You’re about as easy to read as a piece of paper.” A snort, then quieter, “I’ll be waiting for you at the diner.” Before Kyoujurou has the chance to say his own goodbye, the call hangs up on him. He holds the phone up, looks at it for a moment in amusement and laughs, before shoving his phone back into his pocket and quickening his pace, a new spring in his step.

You’re not a person who likes to be kept waiting.

>>> 

The distance to the diner isn’t very far from the sports hall, so Kyoujurou takes only about ten minutes, at a light jog, to make it there. Slightly out of breath from the exertion, he takes a moment to catch his breath and collect himself, before he pushes open the door to the diner, eyes immediately searching the inside for-

You’re seated at one of the booths, dressed in a comfy oversized hoodie and idly scrolling through your phone as you wait for him, two trays of untouched food on the table in front of you. At the sight of you, his mood lifts instantly - you don’t seem to have noticed him yet, so he waits for a moment before he makes his way over to you, sliding into the seat opposite.

You look up from your phone, and Kyoujurou beams, shucking his bag to the side.

“Hey.”

You raise an eyebrow at his chipper attitude, glancing at the screen of your phone as you set it to the side. “You are,” your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek, “twenty minutes late.”

Kyojuro puts his palms flat on the table and bows his head sincerely. “I am very sorry,” he says, suitably chastened. “Please forgive me.” You look at him for a moment, then open your mouth to speak.

“Did you win?”

At that, the smile that Kyoujurou has been trying so hard to keep down inevitably breaks through. “Mmhmm,” he says, and he swears he catches a ghost of a smile touching your lips as well.

“Then I’ll let you off this time.” You push his tray towards him, condensation gathering on the outside of his drink. You’ve been waiting twenty minutes for him, after all. 

“You could have started eating first, you know?” Kyoujurou says, slightly worried as he begins unwrapping his burger. “It’s not healthy to eat too late, and I know you skipped lunch for your project today.”

You shrug off his concern, lazily stealing a fry from his tray before he can stop you (not that he would, even if he could). “Wanted to eat together.” Is all you say in form of an answer, before popping it into your mouth.

Kyoujurou blinks at you, then reaches over to put a few more fries on your tray. He really needs to work on hiding his smile.

“Have some more, then.”

The two of you eat in comfortable silence amidst the chatter and noise ongoing behind you. Occasionally, Kyoujurou pauses between bites to ask you about your day, how your tests went. Conversation swells and ebbs easily between the two of you, never awkward, and the silence is always comfortable.

He finishes his meal first, demolishing the entire tray of food in a few big bites that would make Godzilla proud. Calling for an ice cream (because he’s still hungry), Kyoujurou settles his head on his hands, content to watch you eat, but to his surprise, you’re the one who speaks up first with an unexpected question.

“So, nationals.” You say, slowly. “When are they?”

Kyoujurou pauses, then blinks up at you, unsure if he’s mistaken the word ‘finals’ for ‘nationals’. You’ve never showed an interest in any of his basketball matches before, due to your dislike of large crowds and excessive screaming - hence, almost every basketball game ever. As far as he remembers, you’ve never even been to a game since… well, ever. Still, you asked, so Kyoujurou will answer. 

“They start next month.” Kyoujurou sits up, back a little more straight. “Why?”

Ignoring his question, you simply continue. “It’s a big deal for you, isn’t it?” You lift your burger and take a bite out of it. “Your future, and all that.”

Kyoujurou exhales a bit before he smiles again. “Yeah, it’s huge. All the headhunters from the professional teams will be watching. I can’t afford to show them anything but my best if I’m serious about becoming a professional athlete in the future.”

You make a face. “That sounds… awful, to be honest.” Kyoujurou laughs at that. Instead of taking another bite of your burger, you take a breath, set it to the side and look at Kyoujurou seriously. Confused by the sudden change in mood, Kyoujurou looks back at you, back straightening subconsciously and leaning forward more so that he can hear you better. “Since that’s the case, do you…” you pause for a second, seemingly hesitant, which really piques Kyoujurou’s interest. “Do you want me to-”

Kyoujurou never does find out what it is that you’re suggesting, because in the next second you’re interrupted by an ice cream being set down on the table between you. You, as usual, fall silent in the presence of an unexpected stranger, and Kyoujurou wants to groan. Talk about bad timing. It had seemed serious.

“Oh, it’s you again, captain.” Kyoujurou looks up to see the waitress smiling at him - she’s the one who usually serves his team when they stop by here for team dinners. He returns her smile politely. “It’s surprising to see you here with someone other than your team.”

“I had plans with a friend,” Kyoujurou gestures at you, not noticing the slight frown that tugs at your mouth. The waitress’ mouth forms a slight ‘o’ of realisation at the word ‘friend’, fidgeting with the serving tray in her hands before she speaks again.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your time with your friend here,” she says, suddenly, and her nervous tone gives Kyoujurou pause. Was Tengen right somehow? Did she really have a crush on him? “But you’re a sweet person and I think you’re really cute, so… if it’s alright… may I have your number to get to know you better?”

Kyoujurou blinks up at her, caught off guard by the sudden question - yet he finds his eyes instinctively straying to you. Your expression is neutral, both hands wrapped around his sundae as you begin digging into it, seemingly paying no attention at all to his business with the waitress.

Pressing his lips together, Kyoujurou turns back to the waitress, giving her a smile. “Thank you for your affection, I’m deeply honoured. However,” he pauses, making sure that his voice is carefully gentle before he continues, “I’m afraid that I already have someone else I am interested in. My deepest apologies.”

“Oh.” Her voice comes out tiny. Her eyes dart towards you, just for a moment, but once again you don’t seem to notice, attention still completely riveted on his ice cream. “No, no, it was my fault. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

“Not at all!” Kyoujurou is quick to reassure her. “I think you’re a lovely woman, surely soon you will meet a partner worthy of you who returns your feelings.”

The waitress squeaks out a ‘thank you’ before she escapes into the kitchen, serving tray clutched to her chest. With that over, Kyoujurou turns back to you with an apology on his lips, only to be surprised to see that you’re staring at the kitchen door the waitress has just disappeared through.

“That happens often,” you comment lightly, taking another bite of his sundae. “You must be used to rejecting them by now. Did you come up with that excuse on your own?”

I’m afraid I already have someone else I am interested in.

Kyoujurou’s mouth opens, lips parting slightly and an answer hanging from the tip of his tongue, but before the words can escape him he closes his mouth firmly. He looks at you, watching as you swirl a fry in his ice cream before popping it into your mouth, before you look up at him expectantly. It is not in his nature to lie, so…

“You’ve finished all my ice cream,” he says, tone lighthearted. “I wanted dessert, you know.”

You glance at him, eyes narrowing slightly, but you don’t press the issue, looking down at his ice cream again. “I’ll buy you another one if you want.” You shrug. “Food always tastes better when stolen from someone else.”

Kyoujurou has to shake off a smile before he rises to his feet, hiking his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” Although the stroll is done so in comfortable silence, the topic of the waitress does not resurface, and Kyoujurou can’t help but feel just a hint disappointed. When you bid him goodbye at the door, your expression is just as unreadable as ever, and Kyoujurou does not know what to make of it.

He never manages to find out what it was that you wanted to talk about, either.

[august-bleeds-red]

Texas Heat (Part Two)

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Warnings: implied non-con, gore. NSFW in later chapters.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

~

Dinner that night is stew.

 You help Luda cut the vegetables, but the meat is already simmering in the pot by the time you come down. Thomas is nowhere to be seen, and when you ask where he is, as casually as possible, Luda answers with a sly grin.

 “Oh, he’s probably workin’ down in the basement. Often doesn’t eat ‘til later, ‘specially when we have guests. He’s awful shy, you see.”

 You don’t mention the way he’d stared at you upstairs – more domineering and intense than anyone else you’d have described as “shy”.

 “I hope you don’t mind me asking—” you begin to say, but she’s already nodding, clearly anticipating your next words.

 “His face?”

 You nod. Setting down the knife she’s using to slice the carrots, she adjusts her spectacles and glances towards the door you presume leads to the basement.

 “He’s awful sensitive about it. We don’t usually talk about it, but I don’t want you to be makin’ any nasty judgements ‘bout him.”

 “Of course not, I wouldn’t.”

 She pats your arm and continues chopping the carrots. “I found him when he was just born. Some cruel no-goods had left him to die in a trash can. Lord knows what filthy things he was exposed to in there before I took him home. He started gettin’ skin complaints when he was a boy. Real bad. The other kids used to tease him for it, call him ‘diseased’. Got too much for him so he took a knife and . . .” She presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth and shakes her head. “Sorry, still gets to me.”

 “I understand,” you say, your heart aching empathetically. “I’m sorry.”

 She pats your arm again and sighs, “You’re a good girl, Y/N.”

 For some reason, she says this with a note of sadness which makes you uneasy again. You don’t have long to dwell on it, though, before Hoyt enters the room.

 “How’s that stew comin’ on, Momma?” he asks jovially.

 You help set the table and bow your head respectfully while Hoyt says Grace, accepting your bowl of stew with a grateful smile. The meat is tender, with an unusual flavour you can’t quite place. You figure it must be some kind of game animal you’ve not tasted before, or herbs mixed in with the broth. It’s good, whatever it is. You help yourself to the cornbread Luda offers you and try not to be disconcerted by the way Monty is staring at you.

 He’s just a dirty old man, you try and convince yourself. Ignore him.

 Though it’s not that late by the time your plate is cleared, you claim tiredness and go upstairs to your tiny room. Closing the door behind you, you wish there was some kind of furniture you could prop against it; the chest of drawers is far too heavy for you to move inconspicuously. You don’t feel quite comfortable enough to change into the camisole you usually wear for sleeping, so decide to remain in your shorts and T-shirt. One night won’t hurt. You brush your teeth in the tiny sink, making a mental note to rinse your toothbrush with clean water before using it again, and curl up on top of the blanket. The air is thick and humid, and you’re soon wishing you could just sleep naked. Your own scent hangs heavy in the air and you curse your time of the month. Even with the precautions prescribed to you, your heat was always strong, but it never has this much of a toll on you. You remember your first – you were ten, an early bloomer, and it had hit you at summer camp. It was the height of August, and the counsellors had found you whimpering in a corner of the dorm, hugging a pillow and grinding frantically against it.

 That was the last time you went to camp.

 Could it be because of Thomas? Is that why your body is reacting so strongly?

 Growling in frustration, you reach for your bag and grope inside for your pills. The doctors only advise taking three pills in a single day under extreme circumstances, but being under the same roof as an alpha as intimidating as Thomas Hewitt strikes you as pretty damn extreme. It takes you almost three whole minutes to realise the awful truth – the pills aren’t there. You know you put them back in the inside pocket earlier, the same place you always do. They’re definitely gone.

 Your heart starts pounding and you feel that prickling sense of danger creep over you again. It would have been easy for Hoyt, Monty, or even Thomas to come in here and take the pills while you were downstairs helping Luda. Which means they know. Perhaps you were kidding yourself that you could lie to them.

 You decide not to take any chances. Even without your car, there was no way you could stay here. Your parents would understand. Perhaps you could even call the cops when you got to the next town and ask them to fetch it for you. Gathering your belongings as quietly as possible, you open the door just a crack and peer out down the darkened hallway. All is still. You manage to make no sound all the way to the top of the stairs, taking care not to step in the centre of each step as you tiptoe down.

 You’re almost at the door when you hear it – a low, keening moan.

 You turn glacially slowly to look at the basement door. You could kid yourself that it was a dog, but you know in your bones that’s not the case.

 “Please . . .” the voice calls plaintively. A girl. “Help me . . .”

 Fear washes over you like a bucket of ice water. You should go – you know you should go. The door is right in front of you.

 “Pleeeeease . . .” the voice sobs.

 Your parents’ faces swim before your eyes. You think of what they’d suffer were you to never come home. You brother, your sister, your friends . . .

 “Oh God, help me . . .”

 “God damn it,” you whisper through gritted teeth. With a quick glance upstairs, you tread as light as a spider down the corridor towards the basement. The girl’s voice gets louder – it’s definitely coming from down there. The door is unlocked when you twist the handle, pulling it towards you just enough to slip inside and down the rickety steps beyond. A large pool of water is gathered at the foot of the stairs, too large for you to avoid. You wince as the damp soaks through your sneakers and socks.

 Two large hunks of meat are hanging from hooks along the wall. You think they may have once been pigs, though the head and limbs are all hacked away. You find the girl – a petite blonde in a short blue dress – on a filthy mattress, roped to a pipe in one corner of the room. She looks as though she’s been there for days, weeks, even. Her skin is bruised, and you can tell by her frightened scent that she’s a beta. You can also smell Hoyt’s potent musk on her – in her hair, in the smears of congealed fluid between her legs.

 She smells you before she sees you, eyes searching disbelievingly in the half-dark. You quickly stifle her mouth with your hand before she cries out.

 “Keep quiet, okay?” you hiss. You pick at the tightly-knotted rope, breaking a fingernail in your attempt to untie it. “Fuck.”

 “Oh God,” she gasps.

 “Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna—”

 “NO!” she screams, her body falling into a fit of panicked flailing. Her eyes are big and brimming with fear, staring over your shoulder.

 The scent reaches you just before Thomas’s fingers do.

 You duck and back away from the captured girl, who continues screaming like she’s being sliced apart. Every nerve in your body is yelling at you to flee, to fight, to do anything besides what you are doing – which is staring like a deer in headlights up at Thomas approaching you. His scent is almost overpowering, and despite the terror seizing you, you feel a warm stream of slick trickling down the inside of your thigh.

 He gives a sharp intake of breath and rumbles deep in his chest. Your knees tremble, and you unconsciously breathe in the heady aroma surrounding the enormous man. Your breath shudders as it leaves you. Your instincts are commanding you to stay, to submit, to give yourself to this alpha; you can already feel your body leaning into him.

 The basement door slams open and Hoyt’s angry voice preceeds his heavy footsteps.

 “Nuff of this dang caterwauling, some of us’re tryin’ to sleep!”

 He stops dead at the wall of scent surrounding you, and a sly grin takes over his rugged features. “Well, lookee here.”

 Reaching inside his pocket, he pulls out a small foil strip that you recognise instantly.

 “Guess somebody’s not just a plain ole beta after all, huh?”

 “You asshole,” you spit, your disdain for Hoyt overriding your lust for just a moment.

 “That’s not very polite now, is it?” he says. He moves casually towards the whimpering blonde, who stares in terrified anticipation up at him. He reaches down and strokes her hair, and she cringes away from his touch. “Tommy, why don’t you teach this little bitch a lesson in manners?”

 Thomas takes two short strides towards you, but you dart out from under his grasp and sprint towards the stairs. The girl you’re abandoning screams after you, but all you can think of now is to escape, battling the nagging tug at the back of your mind that’s still desperately reaching out for Thomas.

 You somehow make it up the steps and through the door, your footsteps crashing on the boards as you fly down the hall. You throw your entire weight against the front door, splintering the wood surrounding the lock as you burst out into the night.

 You breathe in lungfuls of air as you sprint across the field, heading for the road. You’ve never been a fast runner, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins has you practically leaping like a gazelle. Your feet catch on stones and loose earth, threatening you with a fall, but you just manage to keep your balance. The sound of pounding footsteps behind you sends a sharp spike of fear into your gut, and if you weren’t running you may have vomited.

 You vaguely recognise another sound – a deep, mechanical roar – but you don’t want to risk glancing over your shoulder to see if it is what you think. He’s getting closer, you can smell him, you can hear his laboured breathing, you can feel his fingers grasping at your hair—

 He overshoots you by a good ten strides when you fall to the ground, scraping your hands and knees on hard soil. Turning to face your supine form, he brandishes the growling chainsaw clutched in his massive hands.

 You’re dead. You must be. How can you possibly expect any other outcome from this situation? Scrambling to your knees, you try to rise, but the metal teeth of the chainsaw brush too close; you can almost taste your own blood. Thomas’s eyes, black with rage, focus on you. His chest is heaving, his muscular arms flexing as he prepares to deal the killing blow—

 “Alpha!” you shriek, the word spilling from your tongue before you can recognise its meaning. “Alpha, please!”

 He freezes, arms aloft, staring down at you in surprise and disbelief.

 You crawl forwards, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his booted foot. “Please . . . p-please don’t kill me.”

 He glances up towards the house. You can tell he’s not used to making decisions without approval, but Hoyt isn’t here to spit poison in his ear.

 “I’ll . . . I’ll be yours.” You can’t believe the words you’re saying. “Please, alpha . . . you can have me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t kill me.”

 He steps back and shakes his head angrily, but not in refusal – more like he’s trying to rid your honeyed words from his head as a bull might dislodge a persistent fly. Taking your life in your hands, you slowly rise to your feet and proffer your sweating hands towards him; the scent from your wrists glands is strong, unavoidable. The chainsaw powers down, and his arms slowly fall to waist-height. You take careful hold of one wrist and detach his fingers from the chainsaw handle. Keeping your gaze locked with his, you part your dry lips and press the flat of your tongue against his own wrist, licking a long, slow stripe. His skin is salty with sweat, the musk beneath deep and earthy, hitting the back of your throat like spice. You feel a shudder pass through his body and go one step further – baring your teeth just enough to nip the tender, swollen skin. The chainsaw falls heavily to the ground as he grabs you, one hand twisting the skin of your wrist, the other securing the back of your neck, fingers knotted in your hair. You stare up at him, heart dancing, skin tingling, fear and lust seeking dominance in your stomach. His teeth are bared behind the gap in his mask, his brow furrowed in bewildered rage and desire. You lift the hand still free from his grip and, as tenderly as though handling a baby sparrow, touch the gland at the nape of his neck. The skin is raised and warm, and his eyes close almost in reverence at the contact.

 “What in Lord’s name’re you doin’, boy?!” Hoyt’s furious voice startles you both. He’s hurrying up behind you, shotgun under one arm, glaring between you and Thomas.

 In a swift, one-handed movement, Thomas pulls you flush against his body, your nose filling with the metallic scent of blood imbedded in his apron – which, it occurs to you, is undoubtedly human blood.

 Hoyt stops in his tracks, assessing the situation before him. You, pliant and submissive in Thomas’s arms; Thomas, dominant and possessive, ready to protect you from the threat Hoyt poses. The older man sighs, chuckling softly.

 “Well, I’ll be damned.” Swinging the shotgun to rest on his shoulder, he shakes his grizzled head. “Y’sure, Tommy? She’d taste mighty sweet with Mama’s hot biscuits.”

 Thomas’s grip tightens and you whimper – he’s about to break your wrist. His fingers immediately loosen, and you see a flash of what could almost be called concern cross his face. Hoyt rolls his eyes and turns, heading back towards the farmhouse.

 “Come on, then.”

 Before you can protest, Thomas sweeps you up into a bridal embrace, pressing your body against his broad chest. Tears prick your eyes as you’re brought back to the place you fought so hard to escape from. As you’re carried over the threshold, Hoyt shoots you a nasty grin.

 “Welcome to the family, Little Miss Omega.”    

~

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.               

[ckbookish]

BATMAN BINGO MASTER POST 2020

1 "I thought you were dead.": I Still See Your Ghost 

Today was just not Dick's day. First he overslept his alarm and was late to work. Amy had been less than impressed at his tardiness... Then He had bungled what should have been an easy take town... But the straw that broke the camel's back was Tim. Dick had forgotten to call Tim. 

2 Friendly fire: Fratricide 

Jason was pissed. No, Jason was enraged. Yeah, he was enraged at the whole mess his family-- if that’s even what they were to each other anymore-- had gotten him in. It was meant to be a simple night. Break in. Torch the drugs. Maybe shoot a couple of people and go home. But no, Batman heard about his plans and decided that arson was too extreme. “Someone could get hurt.” Well someone had gotten hurt, a lot of someones. 

3 Hypothermia: Weekend Commute 

Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

Chapter two Bruce's perspective.

4 Superman: Bringer of the Dawn

The Aftermath of when the Joker shoots Dick.

or

Where do you go when your family tells you to get out?

5 Shot: The Gratitude Trap

Bruce finds himself in the dark, a place he never thought he would be when it came to Clark Kent and Dick Grayson. Yet here he is digging for answers, because he is too scared to pick up the phone and call. 

6 Two-face: The Better Choice 

How do you reconcile the man who was once your friend with the monster he has become? Bruce reflects on how the man he once called his best friend changed. How could the man who helped him foster Dick, hold that baseball bat? 

7 Drowning: Omori’s Law

Deep in the sewer's under Gotham, Batman is trapped. There is no back up, no Robin. He is faced with the single truth that he tried to teach each of his partners... You have to save yourself. 

  8 Found Family: A Restoration from a Resilient Heart

Dick just wants to not be alone with the shadows in the house. Bruce doesn't realize he has lived with them for far to long, and maybe he doesn't have to anymore.

9 Adoption: The Irrefutable Truth

When he reached the reception, he found himself looking around a fairly empty room. There were a few call girls in the corner filling out forms, an older woman holding a dog, a kid that looked about twelve and a middle aged man who looked like he was ready to cry. He knew no one. Dick was about to turn around and head back to his desk when the on duty officer called out to him. Officer O’Conner was one of his fellow rookies, he had a thick accent. Dick thought he might be from Louisiana. “Grayson! Why didn’t you say your brother was coming to see you?” Dick looked at him with his mouth slightly open. There was no way he heard that right. “My what?” 

10 Bruises: Mr. Wayne

Tim is new to this. He's only been Robin for a little over six months. It was going well. But now he was going to be fired. Batman wouldn't want a partner who got caught at school with a black eye. Would he?

11 Bruce is dead: You Have One Saved Message 

Gotham gossip columns spread lies and smear good people's names. But yet Damian can't help but think maybe this mornings article was true.  That despite all his claims of being the true son of Bruce Wayne, he was in fact the only unwanted one.

12 CPR: Vital Signs 

Robin wakes to find him and Batman in an exploded factory. With Batman injured and the building burning around them, Dick struggles to get them both to safety.   

13 Dad:  Storge 

Bruce could have sworn his spirit had left him momentarily.  The sudden hollowness that filled him couldn’t be explained in any other way. 

 “Your dad must have his hands full with you.”  Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray.  

Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view.  It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world.  The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield...  Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad.  But he wasn’t. 

14 Stealing the Batmobile: T-Minus Six Hours

Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed. Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though. Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him. Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down. He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him. He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor. Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it.

15 Wayne Enterprises: Amidst the Absence of Meaning 

Bruce is worried. He's running on less than three hours of sleep, and way too many cups of coffee. He had messed up. That much was obvious. The question was would Dick forgive him?

A gruesome night on patrol bleeds into Bruce's work day and now all he can wonder is if this is the thing that will push Dick over the edge? Had he finally seen to much pain?

16 Ransom: Sum of My Worth

The ring of the phone seemed to echo through the manor’s still too quiet long, winding halls, and everyone present collectively held their breath. Bruce lunged for the phone.   

17 Secret Injury: Hiding in Pain Sight

“What?” Dick asked sharper than he meant to. He was tired.

“Nothing.” Tim said with a small smirk. “Heavy is the head.”

Dick closed his eyes, glad that Tim couldn’t see them. He was so sick of this. Tim, Jason, Damian and Cass all didn’t think he was good enough, well Cass hadn’t said that, but Dick could read her. They didn’t think he was up to the job. Well they didn’t need to tell him that. He knew it.

18 Superboy: An Interlude in Breathing 

Tim looked out over the water in a daze. Bruce and Dick had gone somewhere below deck and he was alone. Well there were strangers on the ship mingling and talking excitedly--but Tim gave them no notice. Instead he watched the water lap up against the hull and crash down back to meet the dark, cold waters. They were far enough out that he could no longer see the shore. It was just endless expenses of sea and sky. Something tickled his neck and he started, only to realize he had been crying. It was only a tear slipping under his collar.

The days after the battle of Infinite Crisis

19 Betrayed: Smother

She took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll in her lungs for a long moment before allowing it hiss out between her teeth. The screams from the warehouse weren’t completely muffled by the distance, or the walls. Perhaps she was only imagining them. But then, sounds like that, she didn’t think she could dream up. She jumped after a particularly high pitched yelp. “Get a grip.” She dropped the cigarette and pulled out another. Her hand shook as she lit it. “It’s just some random kid. He’s not--” She bit back a sob. She didn’t deserve to cry. She had no right to tears, not when it was her fault.   

20 Crowbar: Breaklights

The mail fell to the ground and the paper smacked the tiles hard.  The sound in reality couldn’t have been all that loud, but it seemed to echo around the entryway.  Bruce didn’t look at the dropped bills and the invitation to a fundraiser for the new Gotham women’s shelter.  He was too fixated on the small stamp with the queen of England's head on it.  Wolverhampton.  

The large envelope was far heavier then it should have been.  Bruce could feel bile crawling up his throat.  

He had forgotten.

21 Deathstroke: Debts and Dues

There were some things that were never pleasant, getting caught in the snow without socks, losing your keys, and not being able to remember the name of a song. Having a gun pointed at your chest, Dick felt, qualified as extremely unpleasant. He stood stock still. The barrel of the gun was still hot, it burned slightly as it dug into his sternum. Even with his uniform he could still feel the heat left over from previous rounds fired. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t flinch. “Move.” “You know I can’t.” Dick wondered if Slade had the guts to do it.   

22 Mission Gone Wrong: Murmur in the Quiet Hours

Superman? Clark froze. He knew that voice. But-- he had never heard it sounding so sad. Was that-- no. Clark dove for his phone, still on the counter from when he got home last night. The screen was black. Dead. Clark swore and dropped it. He was in his coat and shoes before it hit the counter top.   

23 Kidnapped:  Chum 

Dick trumped through the leaves, stopping his feet roughly. He relished the sound of the crunch beneath his shoes as he tread on the brown, dead leaves before him. He felt rather justified in his satisfaction. After all the world had taken so much from him, why wouldn’t he do his best to crush it in return. The woods were cool and as he went deeper into them they grew darker. The sun had long set, and the sky was quickly vanishing as the trees grew thicker. Wayne Manor was far behind him. He was never going back. He hated those pristine walls, those old floor boards. He hated the quiet. He hated the stuffy furniture and the rules and the vases and pictures. He hated his new guardian and that… that… Dick couldn’t remember what Alfred was called, but he hated it. The bag on his back felt heavy. It had everything Dick owned in it. Well and a toothbrush that Alfred had given him. But he didn’t think that was really stealing. 

24 Riddler: Seeking Silence on Shortwaves

Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk. In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world. Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things. Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing. Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life.

Batman hadn't always been so strict about talking unnecessarily over comms. When it was just two of them it hadn't mattered, their walkie talkie system had always worked. But now that Nightwing and Robin were in Gotham, it seems insane that they never realized: if only one person can talk over the radio at a time... how could they call for help?

25 Mr. Freeze: Glimpsing the Sun While Trapped in the Rime

He almost called Bruce between his fourth and fifth class. He pulled his phone out, leaning against his locker, and half dialed his number when a warm hand fell on his shoulder. “Hey.” Dick spun around and blinked back black spots as his body protested the sudden movement. A blaze of red hair filled his vision and Dick felt a small fire build in his chest. His face split into a wide smile.

After a run in with Mr. Freeze Dick finds himself feeling odd at school, but he can't go home, not when Barbara's asked him to drive her to Betty's party after school.

[fruitcoops]

Could you write a "spin-off" to the boys in skirt trend for Coops and/or the Cubs?

Like the reaction as they see the other in a skirt

Yes, yes I can. The link to the trend is here if anyone needs a refresher! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for hints of nsfw and internal gender conflict

To be completely honest, Sirius was a little nervous. He had spent so long pretending to be a Completely Hetero Dude around everyone in his life that it was a reflex—Heather said it was because of a culture of toxic masculinity from his childhood and the NHL, but some days he wondered if that was true.

Sirius liked being a guy, and most stereotypical ‘guy things’ made him comfortable. He loved wearing pants, thought beards looked cool, and enjoyed watching sports, and there weren’t many careers that were more classically masculine than professional hockey.

But goddamn if he couldn’t pull off a skirt.

The soft fabric fell around his mid-thigh in a gentle wave and fit surprisingly well. It accented the muscles in his legs and added a delicacy that he didn’t think he would enjoy until the zipper was all the way up. Plus, his ass looked amazing.

Sirius paused for a second mid-twist—the skirt twirled halfway around and something almost giddy bubbled up in him. Why do I like this so much? Am I actually a guy? Do I want to be a girl? He had been reading up on gender identity recently, which led to about half a million google searches and many nights spent staring at the ceiling until Remus mumbled at him for thinking too loud.

I don’t think I’m a girl. I like being a guy. Can guys wear skirts?

Of course guys can wear skirts, dumbass, that’s the whole reason you’re all doing this.

Sirius sighed and rested his forehead on the wall. Ugh. Gender.

“Ready, Cap?” Pots called from outside. “Do you need a hand?”

“Nope, all good,” he answered, steeling his nerves as he turned the door handle and walked out. “What do you think?”

There was a moment of dead silence. Remus’ eyes were huge on his face and a slight squeak escaped his mouth. “Well, your ass looks incredible,” James said at last.

“I know, right?” Sirius turned in a quick circle and the hem fluttered. “It’s kind of fun.”

“The color is perfect,” Finn added. He was still wearing his navy blue skirt with the buttons down the front and Sirius didn’t miss the way Logan’s hand inched slowly under it. “Very classy. What do you think, Loops?”

Remus’ eyes were glued to Sirius’ legs and he nodded mutely. “We broke him!” Talker laughed, giving him a light shake.

“Good. You look good.” Remus exhaled slowly and raised his gaze to Sirius’ face. “That’s—yeah, you look nice. Really nice. I need to get some water, ‘scuse me.”

He kept glancing back at Sirius as he stood, bumping into the mirror and apologizing to it before he vanished down the hall. “I think we can call that a success.” Leo grinned and winked playfully. “Lookin’ good, Cap.”

Sirius craned his neck to look around the mirror and saw Remus leaning against the wall by the water fountain, taking deep breaths. “…should I change?”

“I think we’ll have to scrape Re off the floor if you don’t.”

“So, is that a yes for the skirt?”

Talker shrugged. “Do you like it?”

Sirius’ initial reaction was to make a joke, but he hesitated. He wouldn’t wear it out and about or anything, but it was comfortable, and it would look good for the video. The price tag read a grand total of $15, so it wasn’t like he was making a huge investment. “I think so.”

“In that case, you look hot as hell and you should definitely buy it,” James said. “I wish I looked that good in a skirt.”

Sirius closed the dressing room door just as the rest of the guys began hyping James up.

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

His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. Why wouldn’t it stop bouncing?

“Loops, are you done yet?” Talker called from the adjacent stall.

“Almost. There’s a button at the top and I can’t see it.” Oh, that’s right, your smoking hot fiancé is about to walk out wearing a skirt and you’re going to lose your mind. Remus had still looked slightly dazed when he returned from his hallway meltdown; Sirius was slightly terrified of what his own reaction would be. “Okay, ready.”

“One, two, three!” They opened their doors at the same time and stepped out.

Sirius’ jaw hit the fucking bedrock of the earth.

Several of his teammates wolf-whistled, but Sirius’ brain was way past short-circuiting. The two braincells left registered hnnnggg pretty and LEGS. That was it.

The first one was obvious: Remus was always pretty, and the mild blush that accompanied the smug smile on his face made him even more so.

The second braincell was running in circles and screaming.

Sirius dragged his eyes up from Remus’ socks to his strong calves, then his knees, and finally the solid six inches of muscled thigh that vanished beneath deep red and black plaid. His skin was smooth, and Sirius could swear it went on for miles, and miles, and miles. The hem lifted slightly when Remus spun in a circle and Sirius crossed his legs, propping his chin on his hand to hide his lap.

“It’s cute,” Remus said casually, as if he wasn’t causing massive blood rushes through Sirius’ everything. “I think it’ll work.”

“Cap, what do you think?” Pots asked with a smile.

“Legs.”

The corners of Remus’ mouth twitched. “I have them. Two, in fact.”

“They look…nice. In a skirt. Huh.” Sirius closed his mouth and tried his best to look Remus in the eye, though his gaze kept dragging back down to the freckled, golden expanse.

“What do you think of Talker’s? We match.”

“Suits you.”

“Cap, you didn’t even look,” Talker said from somewhere to his right, sounding highly amused.

“I did, too.”

“Honey, you’re still staring at my legs.” Remus raised an eyebrow at him when he finally looked up. “Hi.”

“Hello. You should get that.”

“I’m going to go change now.”

“Okay.”

Maybe Sirius made a soft whining noise when the door closed and Remus was out of view. Maybe. But that was between him and Pots, who was shaking with silent laughter next to him. “We have got to do this more often,” he wheezed, slapping Sirius on the back. “Your face, man.”

“Did you—did you see that?” Sirius asked weakly, turning to him. “I didn’t make that up?”

“Do you even remember what color the skirt was?” Logan snickered. “Merde, that was perfection.”

“Of course I remember!” Sirius said, offended. “It was red and black.”

Logan smirked and leaned closer into Leo’s side. “Here’s to long-legged boyfriends,” he said with a wink, holding his fist out for Sirius to bump. “May they forever decide to wear short skirts.”

Sirius happily obliged that particular toast.

[yoditorian]

lacuna- part 1

din/reader

she’s here!!!!! she’s here!!!!! i decided to split it up into parts to give me more time to write and put u all (ellie) out of your misery. thank you for being patient, and thank you to everyone who was so kind about the teaser!! 

set waaaaaay before the series, this is Target Practice Din

MASTERLIST

word count: just shy of 2.5k

warnings: some swears bc it’s me, overuse of italics, probably some spelling mistakes, non graphic smut but it is Highly Implied, so for that reason 18+ only pls no babies.

“Have you ever removed your helmet?” 

“No.” He grits out.

“Has it ever been removed by others?”

“Never.”

He’s lying.

___________________

You practically fly down from the cockpit the second you touch down, shoving Ran between the shoulder blades. He stumbles down the last few feet of the ramp, and skids across the ground on his ass. In any other situation, you might have laughed. But in any other situation, you probably wouldn’t have pushed him.

“What the fuck was that?”

He only sputters out a half baked excuse about the mission, it’s enough to have you drawing your blaster. Only it's not in the holster you keep strapped to your thigh. 

Your gaze is cold as ice as you turn to see your gun dangling from Mando’s index finger. He stands above you on the ramp, apparently unaffected by your outrage even though Ran’s actions could have ended very differently for all four of you. Xi’an laughs haughtily from a crate inside the ship, she’s lucky you’re unarmed. 

“He almost got us killed.” You reason, not even sparing a glance at the man still cowering from you on the floor. Mando shrugs. Like it's nothing. 

“And yet, we made it.” He says, dropping the blaster back into your holster as he descends the ramp.

You’re all only alive because you were quick enough on your feet to take over, because you were on the guns, because you made the lightspeed calculations mid-dogfight to get the fuck out of there. Something everyone else seems to have conveniently not noticed. Ran’s on his feet, dusting himself off, Mando has already stalked off into the hangar, and Xi’an’s hot on his heels. You heave an annoyed sigh, adrenaline leaching the energy from your bones, and scuff your boots the rest of the way down the ramp. Ran catches your arm when you pass him, grip just a little too tight to be friendly.

“Empire’s always looking for pilots, I could just put you back where I found you.” He says lowly as you rip your arm from him. It’s not an empty threat. He knows there’s nothing left for you on Corellia besides an arrest warrant and a swift execution. There’ll be bruises in the shape of his fingertips by morning, you can feel them already. It’s not the first time and, if you’re being honest, you know it won’t be the last. The pouch of credits Qin hands you for a job well done makes that particular pill a little easier to choke down, at least. 

Your room at Ran’s space station isn’t much, but you’ve done what you can. There’s only a bed and a desk, the matching chair missing long before you moved in, a shelving unit and a viewport. An old blanket, loosely crocheted and full of holes, lies crumpled atop the sheets. It was white once, used to swaddle you as a baby, but that was before the sweat and the ash and the bloodstains. It’s the only thing you’d brought with you when you had to run, wrapped around your shoulders to shield you from the night’s chill at the last minute. You hadn’t even had time to put shoes on. The viewport window is another comfort, barely bigger than the datapad that lies forgotten on your pillow, but you pay the boss dearly for your view. Lights blinking on the ceiling reflect in the scratched glass, and the mismatched floor panels creak under your weight as they always do. It’s home, even if the space station itself feels like the loneliest place in the universe sometimes. With one last glance at the swirling stars as the station slowly turns, you’re practically asleep before your head hits the pillow. 

You have to pee.

One look out into the corridor presents you with closed doors and lowered lights. Sleep hours, then. It’s hard to keep track of time when it’s always night outside, although living off-planet isn’t so bad once you get used to it. Rest here comes when you can get it, as opposed to the fancy artificial sunrise/sunset lighting cycles you’ve heard about on inner rim stations. It doesn’t sound like anyone’s awake to judge you for shuffling to the bathroom in your socks anyway. 

The light is too bright in comparison to the dim hall, and you almost jump back from your reflection in the small mirror. Bloodshot eyes, rumpled shirt, you really should have done something with your hair before you passed out. You’re sure you’ve never looked more exhausted. Sleep hasn’t come easy in the few years you’ve spent on the station, dreams plagued by flashes of the reason you came here in the first place. Running, choking on the smoke in your lungs, an old friend’s blood splattering across your cheek. The only rest you really get is when you work yourself down to the bone, until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, but you know you’re not the only one. 

The door across from yours is open when you go back to your room, Mando standing in the frame, backlit by a lamp like he’s the hero from one of those propaganda movies you snuck into as a kid. You pause in your own doorway, it’s probably a bad idea to call him out on it. It’d probably only start an argument and then you’d have to deal with the only person you could count on to watch your six being mad at you.

“You should have backed me up earlier.” Your mouth takes the decision away from you. He waits for a moment, silently, like he’s expecting you to say more. But you leave it there. 

“I did.”

You’re turning to shut the door when he finally answers, and it takes everything in you not to shout at him in the middle of the hall.

“If that’s what backing someone up looks like to Mandalorians, then I think I’d rather you didn’t at all.” You hiss, exhaustion feeding into your anger. It’s not the way you should be speaking to him, or anyone, but you’re just too tired to care.

Mando’s spine goes rigid and you almost regret the dig, not that you have time to think about it before he’s walking right towards you and backing you into the darkness of your room. You can just about see the ceiling panel lights blink in the reflection of his visor. It’s only as he moves that you spot the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” You ask, barely a whisper. You’ve never been this close to him before, chest to chest, alone. The warmth you can feel even from under the armour threatens to make your head spin. 

“Home.” He leaves it at that. Never one to use more words than he needs to. You didn’t even know he had a home to go back to. There’s a lot you don’t know about the man in front of you, but he’s loyal to the bone. That much is plain to see.  

“Don’t you ever think about going home?”

“My home is here.” Your answer is final, although you can feel the raised eyebrow through his helmet. You’re no more attached to the space station than you are any of the planets you’ve yet to visit. It’s not home, nowhere is. But you’ve been here since you were sixteen, years before the rest of your team, it’s as close as you’ll get to belonging somewhere. Mando doesn’t respond, doesn’t ask any questions, only stands with you for a long moment. Breathing. He’s good like that. You’ve never felt the pressure to fill any silence with him, he seems to exist so comfortably in it. It’s easier that way, probably for you both. You don’t know much about Mandalorians, the only stories you’ve heard are the ones Qin told you drunk in a seedy cantina when Mando first joined. Horror stories. If his past is anything similar to yours, he’s grateful for the absence of questions too. 

“So it’s goodbye, then?” You’re yet to break his stare.

“Yes.”

Is he closer, somehow?

“Would you have said goodbye if I wasn’t already awake?” 

He’s definitely closer. 

Mando reaches behind him to tap the control panel on the wall, sliding the door shut and leaving you in the darkness. He lets his bag slip off his shoulder, lowering it to the floor suspiciously silently for one you know is crammed with weaponry, and walks you further into the room. You can’t really see much at all, only the steady blinking of the little red lights in the ceiling. 

“You trust me?” It’s so quiet, you wonder if you imagined the words. 

He’s never given you a reason not to. 

“Keep your eyes closed?”

“I promise.”

It takes a moment before he lifts the lip of the helmet high enough, and another long few seconds of just being without barriers for him to kiss you. And kiss you he does.

The breath you get in before your lips touch is all him, turning your insides to liquid gold. Everywhere he touches you sets a fire. For a man so rough, he is so careful, he handles you as though you’ll break at the slightest breeze. As though he is wholly undeserving of such sweetness. Part of you thinks he’s convinced he is. It’s a first and a last kiss, a hello and a goodbye kiss, the way he tries to suffocate himself in you is evidence enough that you won’t be here again. You won’t get to have him like this again. He stays close when you finally break apart, taking his helmet off completely and placing it down on your desk with a decisive thunk. 

“Mando-”

“Din. My name is Din.” He shouldn’t tell you. He shouldn’t have taken his helmet off, he shouldn’t have even thought about it. Although his fear of losing everything he has is almost overwhelming, it’s nothing compared to this. The fear that you would never know him as he is, as he has always been. The relief that brings tears to his eyes when you don’t shy away, when you lean into him. Like you want him too. You shouldn’t hold his creed in your hands but he gives it willingly. Of course he does. He’s never really been able to deny you anything. 

“Din.” 

The smile is so clear in your voice as you whisper it back to him. The way you say his name sounds like a song. A prayer. Hushed and reverent like it’s something sacred, something holy. He knows it’s safe on your tongue. Din lays you back on the bed, gently, wool of the ratty blanket soft against your skin. 

Din. He’s nothing but gentle with you. Hands barely there as they pull layers of clothing from the both of you, stripping himself of his armour, of The Mandalorian. Until there’s just him. Just a man, no more and no less than anybody else. A man who wishes he hadn’t been so stubborn and dismissive of his own desires; wishes he’d given in to this, to you, sooner. His mouth doesn’t leave your skin for a second, like he could digest you one kiss at a time if he tried hard enough. Part of him doesn’t want to leave, he wants to stay in this bed with you in the dark and just exist. Your body in his hands and your moans in his mouth and absolutely nothing else. He needs you in between his teeth, on his tongue. He’s never needed anything else quite so badly. 

The emotion isn’t lost on you, it’s the first and last time you’ll ever be with him. He’ll go after this, you don’t pretend otherwise. You won’t get to have him, in any way you want to, after this. So you lose yourself in him, in everything he gives and takes on those threadbare blankets in your room. The taste of him gets committed to memory and you swear you’ll never eat again if it means his sweat stays on your tongue. You dig your nails hard into his shoulders, you hope he’ll look at them before they fade. Hope he’ll see the marks you gave him and know that he is wanted. He is so desperately wanted and he has no idea. You kiss him with reckless abandon, cards on the table in all but words. So he can know, so he can come back. If that’s what he wants. 

You stay tangled with him for a long time. Spit cooled and sweat dried. You’ve never stayed this long with anybody, but you’re not speeding to the ‘fresher. You want to drench yourself in everything he is until you never feel without him again. 

“Take the Razor Crest. She’s old but virtually untraceable, and faster than anything else in that hangar. I think you can handle her.” You laugh lightly, tracing a finger over the ridge of his wrist where his arm is curled tight around your chest. Din wishes he could drown in the sound.

He takes your advice, once you’re asleep. Once he’s convinced himself to pull away from your warmth and go back to the life he knows. The one without you. The Razor Crest looms over him in the empty hangar, but something about its presence is comforting when he knows you were the one to put her together. 

“He took the fucking Crest!” 

The shout from the corridor jolts you awake, significantly warmer than you should be, and you find your old shirt and sweatpants pulled back on your body. Din. The thought of him so carefully redressing you, touch gentle enough not to wake you, makes your heart swell. It shouldn’t, but you can’t help it. With a heavy sigh, you flick the lights on from the panel by your bed and pull yourself to your feet. The door slides open with a wave of your hand by the door panel and you’re met with a very angry, very red-faced, Ran.

“You wouldn’t know anything about this would you, sweetheart?” He grounds out, eyes zeroing in on the mark you know Din sucked into your shoulder only hours ago. You pull the neckline of your top back up to where it should be and shake your head tiredly. Even if you hadn’t been thoroughly rammed into your mattress the night before, it’s far too early for anyone to be shouting up a storm. The rest of the crew come filtering out, rubbing eyes and calling out accusations at each other. It’s enough to give you a headache. 

Maybe a space station in the middle of nowhere isn’t a forever home after all. Maybe there’s somewhere else out there for you. Maybe it just took somebody else taking the leap to make up your mind. 

You don’t know where you’ll end up, but you have a pretty good idea of where to start.

_________________

TAGLIST (people who showed interest pls lmk if u want to be removed)

@remmysbounty​ @aq-vetina​​ @brothersdrxke​

[jadedxrealityw]

-Humming- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

    ☼-🐍-☼

   Request: @the--queen-of-hell   Draco x reader where they obviously have a huge crush on each other... and reader catches Draco humming a sweet tune to himself whenever he's trying to calm down (because maybe his mom did they when he was little)?? And later, Draco finds reader playing that same tune on the piano, and they kiss. Then draco asks her to play it again, and he kinda falls asleep on her shoulder?? Sth like that?? fluff overload? No pressure tho, totes understand if u dont wanna write it! xoxo

   Kody: Super cute. 

   House: Slytherin

   Possible Triggers/Warnings: cursing, panic attacks

    ☼-🐍-☼

   being wealthy did not mean comfort, not one bit. Being able to buy anything you want did not mean you had everything. Draco Malfoy did not have everything. It was hard to find comfort in Hogwarts when he are raised to keep up a tough exterior. 

   at the age of 13 is when he figured out was panic attacks are. It’s also when he started to have them quite often. A couple things triggered them: stress, anything involving his father, and keeping up appearances. He was lucky to have met his friends Blaise, Theodore, Pansy, and you. 

   each and everyone of you were like him. Purebloods, wealthy, and wanted so desperately to separate yourselves from your parents. Blaise and Theo just wanted to get married and move away to a small town. Pansy wanted to be a fashion designer and of course marry Ginny Weasley. 

   you wanted to be a pianist and travel the world playing your music. Oh yes, you might be wondering what Draco wanted most in the world. Well, as cheesy as it was. To be with you. Over the years of friendship between you two it was natural that romance would blossom. 

   the thing is the both of you have insane insecurities that would prevent you each time from confessing. You needed each other and wouldn’t risk losing what you had for everything. Even if it meant yearning for each other for the rest of your days. Love is blind or maybe you both were

    ☼-🐍-☼

   today Draco was on his own. Blaise and Theo had to retake an exam they missed all morning, Pansy was on a date with Ginny, and you offered to help Mcgonagall to prepare for morning classes like you did every so often. Draco didn’t like being left alone for long periods of time, but wouldn’t say anything.

   as he stood in his room he heard a slight tap to left. He gently placed down the book he was reading and looked towards the direction the sound came from. He saw his owl at the window, letter attached to it’s foot. He pushes himself up from the bed and walks over.

  he reaches for the window latch and pops it open before he pushes both sides. He reaches for the letter and gently unties it from its claw. “Thank you” he spoke softly and gently pet the owls head. His father would never let him name him because he didn’t want him to become attached to the creature.

   he would think of a appropriate name another day for his feathery friend. He flips the letter over and sees a black wax stamp with the letter ‘M’ engraved in it. Speaking of his father. His expression instantly dropped as he used his finger to tear it open. 

   He picks out the letter and unfolds it recognizing his father’s handwriting. He began to read the contents of the letter. Same old same old, asking about his studies and such and pushing onto him about being a true Malfoy and whatever the hell that meant. He felt his chest tighten a bit, like the air was being sucked out of his lungs

   damnit. Why couldn’t he just live his own life? Why did he have to push nice people away just because they weren’t a Slytherin or a pureblood? It was bullshit. Draco started to hyperventilate. Shit. Not now. Everything became hot. Why was the room so hot?

   dropping the letter, Draco runs out of his dorm. He needed fresh air or he’d pass out. Running through the halls, he began to lose his sense of direction. He pushes open a random door and slides down the closet wall until he hits the floor. He was panting heavily and his hands were shaking.

   he begins to hum a tune. A sweet tune his mother used to hum to him when he was younger and had nightmares. She always say “When you hum this it will calm you down and someone will come and find you. Sweet dreams Draco” he pulled his knees up to his chest and continued to hum the tune. 

    ☼-🐍-☼

   after you finished helping professor Mcgonagall you began to walk back to the Slytherin house. It was always cold at Hogwarts so you put on layers. A black turtleneck sweater with a emerald green one on top and black and white plaid pants. 

   you walked past the music room where you went to play piano and heard a faint humming noise. Taking a few steps back you lean against the door to listen to it. It was definitely male, but you couldn’t tell who it exactly was. It was a lovely tune. It was sweet and upbeat, almost like a lullaby of some sorts.

   after a minute or so the humming stopped. You push open the door to find Draco curled up against the wall. You rush over to him, dropping to your knees beside him “Draco?” you say reaching to grab his face. He looks up from the ground and at you “Y/n?” he asked, almost unsure if it was you.

   you nod and wrap your arms around him “Sorry i wasn’t here” you spoke in a hushed tone. He lays his head on your shoulder, shaking his head “It’s fine. Your here now” he says. Both of you held each other until you could no longer that day. 

   someone did come to find him that day. 

    ☼-🐍-☼

   you couldn’t stop thinking about the tune you heard. You were tossing and turning in your bed unable to sleep. Fuck it. You threw your blanket off your body and pushed yourself out of bed. You slip on some black boots real quick over your off white long socks. You had been wearing stockings and a oversized emerald green flannel. 

   you slowly creep towards you door, trying to not step on any lose floor panels that would creek and alarm anyone. You turn the handle of the door and step out into a dark hallway, looking to left. You step out and face forward so you could walk down the hall.

   smack!

   you come face first with a hard and warm surface “Ow!” you exclaim as you take a step back. You look up to see the one and only Slytherin prince, hair a mess and a confused expression “Y/n? What in the hell are you doing up so late?” he asked.

   you stumble over your words for a moment “Just wanted to sneak some snacks from the great hall. Cover for me if Snape comes. Okay bye” you push past him and rush down the hall. Draco stood dumbfounded trying to decipher what you just said. 

   so he followed you of course. What friend wouldn’t?

    ☼-🐍-☼

   as you walk down the hall, you neared the music room. Your fingers itched to press down on the familiar keys. You push open the door and step into the almost empty room, a smile gracing your face. You walked towards the piano and take a seat on the bench.

   you roll up your sleeves to your elbows and straighten your back. The tune flew through your head and to your fingertips. You played the song exactly the way you heard it. You had never heard Draco hum this before and you wondered where he had heard it from. 

   you gently swayed your head as you played the tune. Closing your eyes you smiled brightly. Soon enough you felt a presence next you, causing you to stop playing. You open your eyes and see Draco sitting next to you. Oh shit. You were caught “You heard me this morning, didn’t you?” he asked.

   you slowly take your hands off the keys, nodding. You look down in shame expecting him to be angry for eavesdropping on his private moment. You felt one hand grab your chin and turn it upwards and to the left to face Draco. He leans in a captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

   you subconsciously pushed his chest away, breaking you two apart. Draco looks down at you, your faces inches apart. He looks mortified, scared of what your next actions would be “I’m so sorry-” but you smashed your lips onto him instead.   

   he kissed back instantly, one hand squeezing your side while the other laid on the nape of your neck. Your kiss was sloppy and fueled by by every unspoken confession that was never said over the years. Oxygen is needed for humans to live apparently so you both pull away panting for air.

   “My mother is right” he spoke, making you laugh in confusion. “What?” you question. “My mother told me that whenever you play the tune someone will come and find you. It worked for me and it worked for you” you smile lightly and you both kiss again for a short moment.

   after your sweet exchange Draco asked you to play the tune again and you did for him. After a couple minutes he laid his head on your shoulder and fell asleep listening to you play. You didn’t want to move him so you wrapped an arm around him and smiles “Sweet dreams Draco”

    ☼-🐍-☼

   Kody: Short and sweet. Remember you can be asked to join to taglist. Anyways, peace.

    ☼-🐍-☼

   Taglist: @sonbelleame @moonpi3 @dracosathenaeum

[moonslove7]

Hey there I'm really enjoying your work. Please could I make a blaine x reader request? Maybe one day they get really injured and blaine is called to the rescue and he turns her out of fear of losing them. When they wake maybe he'd ramble on about how sorry he is for making her a zombie but he just loves her and fluff. She could interrupt his rambling with a kiss perhaps as she feels the same.

I hope this isn't too long and that your college work is going ok 😊

Hi! Thank you so much Im glad you’re enjoying my work

“Let her go! You can’t do this!” 

Ravi yelled at the anti-zombie hillbillies who had captured Don E and Blaine’s girlfriend, Don E was chained to the wall, but they planned to let he chains go and let him devour you, to show the world how awful zombies really were, you stood there, silently looking numb as you tried to remain calm, “Yes we can, for the good of America, until then though you will also be chained up, across from our little monster here so he can watch his next meal like the animal he is.” He smirked at Ravi, who was staring at him wide-eyed that he would let a human be killed like this. He started to grab your arms, yanking and pulling you about till you were in Don E’s room, he had his eyes closed and his head back like he was sleeping, they chained you up from the other side of the room and left, faintly down the hall you heard Ravi talking to the mad idiots saying he needed to do some tests on the zombie first so they all left to get more beers and guns in case things got ugly. 

“You’re boyfriend better come soon, (y/n), I don’t want to hurt you but I know they’ll make me, you’ve always been nice to me so I’ll try and hold off as long as I can, it’s too bad Blaine never made you a zombie.” He said, opening up his eyes and smiling at you, you smiled back and nodded. Seconds later Ravi came in, running to Don E. “Have you got a phone or something that could help me get the two of you out of this?” He asked hopefully, Don E thought to himself and then remembered he had a phone in his pocket, “Oh yeah I do! It’s in my left sock!” Ravi quickly took off his shoe and sock, snatching the small phone out, he tried to type in Liz’s number but he couldn’t remember, “It’s got Blaine’s number on it you know? I’m not so sure he’ll save me but he’ll definitely save (Y/n).” Don E mentioned, “Okay, I’ll text Blaine what’s happening then, I’m sorry this is happening to the both of you.” Ravi ran out after putting Don E’s shoe and sock back on to make it look like nothing happened. “Don you know your his best friend right? He might act like a heartless idiot but he doesn’t share his trauma with everyone.” You mentioned to him which was all very true. “Thanks (y/n), and yeah I guess so.”

After an hour or two of waiting the hillbillies came back, laughing and arms full with beers and guns, they looked at the laptop to see the livestream hit a million views, cheering and laughing to themselves while Ravi downed a bottle of alcohol knowing this probably isn’t going to end well. They started to try and walk into yours and Dons holding room and Ravi finally said something, “Look you cannot kill a human just to show the world that Zombies are bad, I mean have you ever seen a video game where a zombie doesn’t eat people?” He tried hard to persuade them but all it did was end with him getting knocked out from a gun being shoved hard against his head. One waited in the room to release them once the others were ready to watch it themselves. And once he got the all clear he did, your heart beat raced up as you felt the chains get looser, you looked at Don E’s and so was his, his eyes were full zombie mode now, he had been chained there for days maybe even weeks without food, of course he’d be starving. Backing into a corner as much as you could you almost prayed in your head that Blaine would come busting in and save you, but you thought maybe not this time, maybe this was really it.

Don E sighed at the feeling of no more chains, the hillbillies were laughing and then started shouting, “Go on then demon! Feast on the poor helpless little girl!” One shot you in your stomach, the bullet creating a waterfall of blood to escape and slowly drip down you, you fell to the floor on your knees as you tried to cope with the immense pain, but then all the lights went out, little murmurs of “What the hell’s going on?” Echoed through the room but then they heard someone screaming in pain followed by growling. “What the hell!” The hillbillies whispered amongst themselves, little did they know your boyfriend had came just in time, he pressed the button in the control room to open the cage which made Don E laugh as he realised in relief he wasn’t going to hurt you, but he was about to be fed. He ran towards the noise of the murmuring biting into one and then another, bullets were fired everywhere, you only missed them because you were on the floor bleeding out, half unconscious, the lights turned back on, and Blaine came running in the room, full zombie mode like Blaine but he was almost growling at the sight of you dying on the floor thanks to these so called humans. He ran towards you, kneeling down as he took your face in his hands, your eyes me this red ones, “I gotta do it (y/n), if I don’t I’ll loose you and I really couldn’t live with myself if that happened.” He whispered, you nodded in pain cringing as you tried to sit up and comfort him, He instead leaned down to you so you would stop moving and hurting yourself more. “It’s gonna be okay, do what you gotta do.” You reached up to his face, leaning your foreheads together, Liz and a few others were already there tearing everyone apart so they were undisturbed.

Blaine closed his eyes as he sighed, he didn’t want this life for you, it was awful but if it came to you dying or becoming one of the undead he’d choose the second option in seconds. He leaned backwards, put his hand in yours and scratched your palm, He waited anxiously for a few seconds, not even knowing himself how he would know it worked. You sighed after a few minutes, your consciousness fully coming back, “it’s working, don’t worry too much or else you’ll get wrinkles.” You joked making him crack a small smile. “I’m so sorry I had to do it, if there’s anything you need-” Blaine tried to say but you cut him off, “Stop being sorry, you saved me.” You slowly started to sit up, surprisingly it still hurt but not as much. “Hey, (Y/n)! Get your ass over here, I got you some food zombie sister!” Don yelled across the room while he was munching on a brain, Blaine told you to stay and he would go and get it for you, “We’ll still have to get that bullet out but it won’t kill you at least.” He spoke while picking up half the brain Don was holding out towards him, you only now noticed his zombie mode face had gone away, Blaine sat back down beside you and held out the brain, “And before you ask yes you will get unlimited brains from me, anything you want I’ll get you it.” You held the brain in your hand and then slowly started to bite and chew on it, “...What if I just want a hug from you right now?” You asked, Blaine smiled and rolled his eyes, he wrapped his arms around you, making you feel safe, you saved a bit of the brain he gave you for him though. “Here you can finish it,” You gave it to him which he put back in your hands, “Nope, it’s yours, you can’t make me eat it I can eat later.” He insisted, still feeling guilty for turning you. “Stop being guilty jeez, you only did it to save me and I’m okay with that okai?” He nodded but looked at the floor, “Plus me, being a zombie might have some perks don’t you think?” You raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk, eating the bit of brain you saved for him, he realised what you meant and giggled to himself, “wow, so zombie you is naughty, i love that.”

[gravegroves]

Can I ask about 2 and 8 for the wip tag game?

I've already talked about 8 (search #tag game in my tags and you'll find it).

But omg thank you for asking about 2!!

2. Like a Bat Out of Hell, Indiana

Oh man, oh man. This. This right here? This is my baby. My precious. The one I wrote so self indulgently that even if no one else likes it, I LIKE IT. And I'm completely okay with that.

El and Hopper fail at closing the gate at the end of s2, Billy appears at the Byers' house just in time and so begins a mad dash across the country, trying to outrun the end of the fucking world.

Tw: death (no one we care about though)

Excerpt:

The sound of a car roaring into the driveway has Steve's heart crashing up into his throat and they all turn to watch as headlights dance across the living room walls, sharp and blinding, like a goddamn beacon of hope.

And Steve doesn't have time to think about why the deep rumbling of the engine sounds so familiar.

He moves the kids now or they die.

"Get to the car, now!" Steve screams, just as the window at the end of the hall explodes inward.

Max gets to the door first and tears out of the house, sprinting toward the high beam lights with the boys hot on her heels.

"Billy!" She screams and goddamnit she can't mean--

She reaches the car, yanks the passenger side door open and pushes the front seat forward, shoving Dustin, Mike and Lucas into the back before diving in herself, righting the front seat in a practised move just in time for Steve to jump in after her.

And yep. There he is.

Hargrove's expression would be hilarious if they weren't seconds away from being overrun by a horde of carnivorous monster dogs.

"What the fuck do you losers think you're doing?!" Billy roars, eyes bugging slightly when he recognises Steve.

"Harrington?!"

Steve grabs him by the collar and screams into his face: "Just fucking drive!" 

A loud crash has them both snapping their heads to the side just in time to watch as a hundred Demodogs or more come rushing out from behind the Byers' house, heading straight for them.

Without another word, Billy yanks the car into reverse and accelerates before hitting the breaks. Steve's stomach swoops as their momentum lets the wheels slide over the gravel to land perfectly on the road.

He grabs Billy's arm, yanks on it like it might shake some urgency into him.

"Hargrove, go!"

"Seatbelts! Get the seatbelts" Max yells at the others.

That's what she's worried about? Steve thinks, even as he reaches over his shoulder to strap himself in.

Then Billy puts the car into gear and guns it forward and they go from 0 to 70 mph in ten seconds flat, zooming down old, twisting back roads and Steve honestly can't believe that Hargrove's insane, wannabe NASCAR driving is gonna be what saves their asses tonight.

"What the hell are you doing all the way out here with my sister, huh?" Billy yells, taking his eyes off the road to look over at him and Steve might seriously have a fucking heart attack.

"Eyes on the road!" He exclaims, foot searching the footwell for a break pedal that isn't there, "For real, man? You want to do this now?!"

"Or you can get out and fucking walk, amigo," Billy snarls, swerving around another Demodog leaping for the hood of his car, "What the hell is up with these dogs?"

"Billy, stop it! Can you jus-- look out!" Max shrieks, her arm shooting between them to point straight ahead and the kids all begin yelling as the flower-in-bloom-faced ugly fuck grows larger in the windscreen at an alarming speed.

Smooth as butter, Billy avoids the gaping creature in their path, not taking his foot off the accelerator for even a second. Steve's heart beats a drum solo against his adam's apple. His fingers feel fused to the edges of the seat, holding on for dear life.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that?" Billy turns to look behind him and Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw hurts, barely restraining himself from yanking Billy around to face forward again.

"Hargrove, I swear to God--"

"Oh god, look."

Steve turns his head the slightest amount to see Lucas pointing out of the window at the treeline to their right.

Demodogs.

Lots of them.

So many slimy, greyish bodies that the forest floor has all but disappeared and transformed into a churning sea of dark, slick oil.

More worryingly, they're all running in the same direction as the Camaro.

Fuck.

"What the…" Billy falters when he looks out of the window at the treeline, then seems to shake it off, placing his undivided attention back on the road for once.

He speeds up to pass a whole group of the beasts trying to cross to the other side, narrowly misses being cut off entirely by the mass of Demodog bodies. Steve releases a hand from the seat only to clutch at the grab handle on the door. He closes his eyes, swears he can feel his stomach fall out of his ass when the wheels on his side of the car lift into the air for half a beat.  

"Shit, we're gonna die!" Dustin wails, voice wobbly as Billy jerks the wheel again to avoid a creature charging straight for them. If the kids weren't already packed in like sardines they'd be sliding around back there, seatbelt or no. "We're definitely gonna die! This psycho is gonna kill us before the monsters do!"

Billy scowls into the rear-view mirror and grits out "Hey kid, you're welcome to get out and walk."

"You literally tried to run us off the road a week ago--"

"Not the time, Dustin!" Max snaps and shushes him.

"We need to get to the gate!" Mike blurts out, leaning forward to speak directly at Steve. Demanding. "We need to help El!"

Steve doesn't even have the faintest idea of how to begin doing any of that.

"Dude, we can't just go back there, are you crazy--" Lucas pulls him back and they continue to argue in harsh whispers.

"If you losers don't shut the fuck up, I'll crash this goddamn car just so I can take you all with me." Billy barks, knuckles white on the wheel.

"Oh my god, see! What did I tell you?" Dustin exclaims, "He's dangerous, Steve!"

Yeah, well, he's all that we've got, Steve doesn’t say. "Shut up, Dustin."

They turn into the first proper residential street and Billy misses a tree by an inch as he tries to avoid colliding with five demodogs hunched over something on the road.

Oh god, was that a body?

"Harrington, where the fuck am I going?"

Steve closes his eyes, overwhelmed and completely out of his depth. They might have been the B team, but there hadn't actually been a plan B--

"Fuck, fuck! I don't know--"

"Billy," Max pleads, voice shaky with terror, silencing them all, "My mom…" 

Billy sighs explosively before turning down a side street, barely slowing down.

"Shit."

*****

It's not just Max's mom, but Dustin's mom, too. Lucas's family. Mike's family. 

They reach Old Cherry Road first and Billy barely allows the car to come to a full stop, Demodogs further down the street are taking notice of them already, stalking forward, mouths blooming excitedly. Steve eyes them warily until a garbled oh fuck from the back seat draws his attention to the other side of the street and--

It's bad.

The porch light sets the stage for a grizzly scene at the Hargrove residence. A woman lies directly beneath it, like the opening shot to a fucked up play, her head of red hair spilling over the top step.

She's very obviously dead. Steve can see where she must have tripped on the welcome rug -- awkwardly stiff and upturned between her feet -- and he can only hope she got knocked out in the fall and didn't feel a thing that came after. There isn't much left between her head and her knees except for a dark patch of gøre.

The headless body of a man lies slumped against a truck parked in the driveway, one arm stuck through the open car door, half torn off within his jacket. Blood still running down the concrete incline, pooling in the roadside gutter.

"Oh, you Bastard," Billy spits, barely a whisper.

The longer Steve stares, the more horrifying the scene becomes.

He doesn't want Max to see this. Or Billy.

Max doesn't make a sound.

Billy slams his fist against the steering wheel a couple of times, then peels away from the curb before the Demodogs can get too close.

*****

Dustin's house is dark. There's no car in the driveway.

"I told her Mews had been seen in Loch Nora. She must still be out looking..." Dustin trails off quietly. Shellshocked.

It's almost midnight. Steve doubts she's still out looking for a cat. And if she is...

"I wanted to keep her out of the way."

No one says anything.

They drive.

*****

The Sinclair house is dark, too, no lights on except for the motion sensor activated ones over the empty carport.

Billy doesn't bother slowing down. The area is absolutely swarming with creatures already.

"It's so late. Where..." Lucas falters, scanning the houses they pass, like he made a mistake and his home will appear any minute now. "Where did they go?"

"I'm sure they're okay, man," Steve tries, but it feels flat, false, "If they're in a car they could make it out. Your mom too, Dustin."

Billy grimaces, but says nothing.

"What?" Steve demands.

"I was just here looking for Max. They were home." 

He keeps a laser focus on the road now, on avoiding the monsters spilling out onto their path, growling when he's forced to change down a gear before aggressively working his way up in speed once more, jaw clenched tight.

"You probably caught them on their way out." Steve insists.

Billy looks doubtful, but he nods anyway. Neither of them enough of an asshole to take a kid's hopes away like that.

They move on.

*****

"Let me out," Mike says, quietly. Trembling. Hands pushing against the back of Steve's seat like he'll be able to bend it out of the way through sheer force of will.

No one moves.

The front door to the Wheeler home is open, door splintered where the deadbolt held, but the wood didn't. The car is parked in the carport. All the lights are on. 

Karen Wheeler's corpse lies forgotten and half devoured on the front lawn.

In the driveway, a tiny yellow sock lies next to bloody drag marks disappearing into the grass--

Oh god...

"Let me out." 

Steve's lips move, but he can't seem to draw breath enough to produce sound..

Billy seems to shake himself out of a daze, takes a deep breath beside him. "Nah, kid."

And Mike just snaps. 

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" He screams, punching and kicking the seat in front of him.

Steve leans forward out of the seat and puts his head in his hands. 

"Let me out! LET ME OUT!" Mike shrieks, begs.

"No." Billy says again, evenly.

Mike's voice breaks on a wordless scream.

Steve wants to do his own bit of kicking and screaming, but someone needs to keep their fucking head in the game or they're all going to end up dead.

By some twisted turn of fate that someone is turning out to be Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hysterically, he remembers hearing about Billy abandoning Carla Green to walk home alone from the quarry after she'd scratched the Camaro's dashboard with her fake nails by accident.

Mike kicks the back of the seat again. Billy says nothing.

All the kids are crying, now.

Mike's screams eventually taper off into babbling sobs and Dustin does his best to comfort him through his own half-choked cries. Lucas is whispering to a sobbing Max, his own breaths hitching and heaving uncontrollably, on the edge of breaking.

Steve's eyes sting, hidden behind his hands.

He lifts his head up and glances over at Billy, still tracking the side of the road, the edge of the trees. He looks so normal that it almost throws Steve for a loop. He wants to grab Billy by the collar again. Shake him. Scream: what part of this aren't you getting?

"The fuck is going on?" Billy hisses, almost to himself and oh, right.

"Later," Steve promises, hoarsely, digs the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to see stars.

"You know what they are?"

"Yeah." Steve says after a great deal of swallowing past the lump in his throat.

If Hargrove's voice betrays even a hint of emotion Steve knows he's gonna fucking lose it. Luckily, the guy keeps his shit together so Steve can keep a lid on his.

"You know what kills them?" Billy continues.

"Heat," Dustin says, voice thick, "And, like, bullets."

Billy nods, "Alright, how warm are we talking?"

"They don't like warm weather or daylight, but I don't think it kills them. Weakens them, maybe. Sends them underground."

"Fire will." Steve says, pulling at his hair until it hurts, dragging himself out of foggy despair and into the present where he's needed. He accidentally runs his gaze past Karen's body and tries not to dry-heave.

Mike is still crying behind him and god fuck, they should get out of here. The kid shouldn't be seeing this.

"Where do we go?" Max whispers, like she read his mind. She sounds as lost as Steve feels.

Billy revs the engine and turns to Steve, "Any requests?"

Steve thinks about the huge empty house waiting for him, a gaping nightmare at the edge of the woods. He balks at the thought.

Where the fuck do we go?

"Just get us out of Hawkins."