#he flailed himself right off the table and gave the camera a show

[link-sans-specs]

Why am I not drunk for THIS?

I'm not shavin' my ass for this!

Is the final product gonna be somethin' that we can sell?

Oh! The hair!! OH, I SHOULD'VE SHAVED MY ASS!!!

KEEP GOING! AAAAAAAAAH, DON'T STOP!!!

GET AWAY, GET AWAY, GET AWAAAY!! GET AWAAAAAAAAAY!!!

GME3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I.R.L.📷2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight stalking, masturbation, naughty talk.

This is dark!(camboy!)Andy Barber. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your guilty pleasures becomes and all too real terror.

Note: Okay, here’s the second and last part of this short little piece. Thanks for reading and the excitement. I’m sorry if I’m a bit blegh rn.

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Andy stared at the chat. He waited and waited but the green dot didn’t pop up. Maybe she was freaked out after meeting him. Or maybe she was over him. Her name hadn’t blipped up in any of his sessions in the last week and he even invited her to an impromptu private show after he got back from the café. He hoped her seeing him might nudge her but it only seemed to scare the fuck out of her.

He recalled how she nearly fell on her face running away from him. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. No preening or smiles, just terror and a quick escape. He didn’t understand. He was a good looking guy and she was obviously lonely. Hell, she was cute too. He was hardly disappointed.

He waited another fifteen minutes, distracting himself with the colour matching game on his phone but her status remained inactive. He scrolled through his bookmarks and clicked on her insta profile. She had commented on some DIY tutorials in the last hour but hadn’t posted. She only ever added pictures of flowers anyway; her last photo of herself was from a year ago. It was her and some guy but he could guess they were no longer together.

He was starting to get upset. She was ignoring him. He wasn’t stupid but what had he done? Their sessions were going well up until this week and he actually looked forward to them. He felt that same thrill he had when he first started his hustle.

He slammed his laptop shut and dropped his phone face down. Fuck it, he had better stuff to do.

He crossed the room and grabbed one of the boxes still stacked against the wall. He hauled it over to the empty bookshelf and flipped it open. He unpacked the books one at a time and the heavy bookend shaped like half a globe. He didn’t know why he brought all these things, he didn’t use them. He wasn’t a lawyer anymore.

He leaned against the side of the sofa and crossed his arms. He boxed up his whole life, or what was left of it, and drove halfway across the country. She couldn’t even give him a hello or her name. She could hardly look at him and she wouldn’t answer his goddamn messages.

He pushed himself straight and stormed over to his laptop. He ripped it open and clicked on the chat. Still, nothing. The invitation was scheduled for less than an hour. Well, if she wasn’t going to open it, he’d have to get it to her another way. He was done waiting on her and he was done playing with her through a screen.

He wanted the real thing and he knew she wanted it too.

📷

You were still slightly addled from your encounter at the café. After you got home and unpacked your groceries, you didn’t find your coffee again until it went cold. You dumped it and replaced it with a glass of wine. You bought the bottle a month ago, expecting to unwind and that time finally came.

You sat with the healthy dose of alcohol, almost to the brim as it darkened the full belly of the glass. You wore only a baggy Winnie the Pooh tee and panties as you lounged and flipped on the tv. 

You rarely used the front room anymore, ever since your boyfriend moved out you spent most of your time in the bedroom, exhausted and lonely. It was easier to just linger there between responsibilities.

Your dainty sips turned to greedy slurps as you turned on an episode of Project Runway and lost yourself in the competition and drama of it all. Your ex hated that show and you hadn’t watched it in years. It was time to get caught up with what would forever be your unfulfilled dream of being a designer.

By the runway, your glass was empty and the television had a soft glare as you were slightly buzzed by the high potency. The dark blend had a percentage in the double digits and you were feeling it, delightfully so. As the designers came up for their feedback from judges, more so a roast, you leaned back and wiggled your hips as you stretched. You yawned and closed your eyes as you listened to a designer give cutting critique of a hem.

You peeked under your lashes as the camera panned in on the fraying stitches. Well, it looked alright from far away. You bent your arm under your head as you turned onto your side and your eyes closed again as you pondered another glass of wine. That might give you a decent night’s sleep.

You inhaled and sat up, intent on another indulgence but you stopped short as you blinked in shock. You hadn’t drank that much. You couldn’t be hallucinating. You pressed yourself to the back of the couch and shook your head as you gaped at the figure stood just beside the tv, eyes calmly watching you.

“What…” you gulped.

“Shhhh,” the man, the one you watched all those nights on your laptop, brought his finger to his lips as he hushed you, “it’s okay, honey.”

“I--” your heart leapt into your throat and you stood as you swiped up your glass, “get out. How did--”

“I sent you an invitation. Several this week. You haven’t answered--”

You hit the glass off the table so it cracked and left a jagged edge. You jabbed it out at him from the other side of the coffee table, your hand shaking as the shock turned to a jolt of adrenaline.

“Go! Get out!” you snapped, too terrified to think on how he found you or if your meeting that day was truly a coincidence. It didn’t seem like it, “you’re crazy, get out of my--”

He marched around the table as you backed up and swung the glass at him. He caught your wrist and twisted it as he wrenched you close to him and pointed the sharp edge at your throat. The scent of him filled your lungs and mingled with the taste of wine as the glass pressed to your skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he warned, “so don’t make me.”

“Please--”

He said your name, calmly, as you drowned in his oceanic eyes. You quivered in his grasp and tensed as you tried to lean away from him, “Andy,” he offered, “that’s my real name.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want--”

“You know exactly what I want,” he hissed as he pulled away the glass and tossed it to shatter against the wall, “the same thing I always wanted… that you want.”

You took a deep breath and he clapped his hand over your mouth and tutted. His brows wrinkled in irritation and your drunken fingers bounced futilely off his shoulder. He turned you and sat you down on the couch and knelt with you, shushing you again as he settled on his knees on the floor.

“Honey, aren’t you tired of this? Of being apart? Of just… watching?” his eyes strayed from yours and he smiled as he eyed the yellow bear on your shirt, “that’s cute.”

You shook your head and murmured against his hand. His lashes flicked up and his jaw squared. His lips thinned as he considered you.

“Thing is, honey, I’d love to talk but you gotta promise not to scream,” he said, “and I mean that because I don’t want to gag you… not yet, anyway.”

Your eyes rounded and you nodded fervently as your breath puffed under his palm. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his hand slightly, moving it just an inch at a time as he watched you. You sniffled as he let his grip fall to your knee.

“Why? How…” you stuttered, “it was a mistake. Just a show--”

“You were always there,” he said as his other hand came up to your other knee and he ran his hands up and down your legs, “it didn’t sound like a mistake.” He pushed his fingers along the top of your thighs, “you enjoyed it.”

“It wasn’t… like that, just…”

He squeezed your thighs painfully and you winced. His fingers crawled up under the hem of your tee to the elastic of your panties and he hooked them beneath the fabric. You grasped his wrists in shock at his sudden movement and he looked you in the face.

“Say whatever you want, make your excuses,” he snarled, “you said you wanted me, you said it a dozen times, and I know you do.”

He tore down the cotton and you flailed out and caught yourself against the back of the couch. He rolled your panties down and untangled them from your ankles as you tried to close your legs. He kept your panties around his wrist as he stopped your knees from meeting and moved between them.

“Honey, now, I think we’ve had enough build up--”

“Hel--” you screamed and he grabbed your chin and snapped your mouth shut so that you bit your tongue.

He growled and shook your panties down over his hand. He brought up the twisted fabric and shoved it into your mouth. You tried to turn away from his grip as he stuffed the panties in with two fingers as deep as they would go and you almost gagged.

“It’s too bad,” he said, “I wanted to try that mouth… next time.”

You batted at his arms and chest and his hand shot to your throat. You stilled as he choked you, just enough for lungs to burn. He kept his hand on your neck until you sat back and he let it trail down the front of your shirt. He groped you through the fabric, rolling his thumb around your nipples as they hardened.

“I know you can be good, honey,” he hummed, “you’re just… nervous. I know what it’s like, trying to get over someone else. Trying to move on from a life you built-- a break-up, right? That lanky guy on your Insta--”

You gave a terrified flutter of your lashes and he smiled, a tight-lipped sympathetic gesture.

“Look, we’re two lonely people,” he kneaded your chest as he spoke and leaned in, “so, it only makes sense, and I promise, honey, the shows are over. It’s all for you now.”

You trembled as he dropped his hands and pulled up your shirt. He tickled your stomach with his knuckles and framed your tits with his hands as he admired them. You squirmed as he flicked them with his thumbs and leaned into you. He took one in his mouth and suckled. You whimpered as you felt a pluck in your core.

He parted with a pop and licked his lips, “I never… it was always hard to think of what you’d look like but I couldn’t picture anyone so perfect.”

Your nails dug into the couch cushions as you tried not to flinch. The glimmer of delight turned to disgust as you watched this stranger fondle you and he sealed his lips around your other nipple. You bit down on the cotton and moaned. You were so pathetic. It was your stupid moments of lonely desperation that brought you to this, that brought him to you.

His large hands spread along your sides and he pressed his fingertips into you sharply as he toyed with your nipples. He grazed his teeth along each bud and pulled back to look at you again. You grasped his shoulders as you begged him with your eyes and shook your head.

“I… always wanted to do this in the bedroom,” he said, “that’s where you usually are, huh? Touching yourself for me all alone in the dark--”

You hung your head in defeat and he pulled you forward on the cushion. He lifted you onto your feet and spun you around in the space between him and the couch. He put one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and walked you around the sofa. He paced slowly behind you as he urged you down the hall and paused to peer through your bedroom door.

“Here we are,” he said as he angled you through the door. You reached up as your jaw ached around the wad of fabric and he caught your hand and yanked it down, “I didn’t say you could do that.”

You dropped your arm and he let you go. He pressed his body to your back as he nudged you closer to the bed and stopped you right before it. He bunched your shirt in his hands and tugged it up until you raised your arms. He swiped it over your head and let it crumple beside your feet.

“Go on, sit nice and pretty for me,” he tapped your ass lightly.

Naked, you shivered as you stepped away from him and got onto the bed. You turned as you bent your legs over the edge and lowered your chin. You hugged yourself as he stood watching you with his hands on his belt.

“Don’t you worry, it’s still a show,” he said as his hands slid over to his buckle. 

He winked and ran his fingers up the front of his jacket and pulled it off. He draped it over the folding stool by your bookshelf and bent each leg to tug off his shoes. His socks followed shortly after and he squared his shoulders before he scooped his shirt up and off. He returned to his buckle and tilted his head at you.

“Look at me, honey,” he said as you stared at the pile of clothing, “we both know you love to watch.”

You raised your eyes to him and clamped your hands around your shoulders, arms crossed over your chest. He grinned and unbuckled his belt, his zipper gliding down smoothly beneath his fingers.

“You got me hard as fuck,” he said, “I didn’t like that earlier, you know? The way you ran from me.”

You just sat and tried to swallow the hopeless acceptance. He pushed down his pants and stepped out of them, his arousal bulging against his boxers. Your fingernails cut into your skin as you curled your fingers.

“You’ve been so good to me, honey,” he continued as he rolled down his boxers, “you know, I only want to return the favour. I came all this way just to get close so that--” he paused as his dick sprang up before him and he kicked away his underwear, “I can take care of you now.”

He gripped himself and stroked his length with a hum. His stomach tensed and the lines of his muscles deepened as he groaned and played with himself as he would before the camera. You were mortified as you watched him helplessly and he got closer and closer.

“Now you get the live show, honey,” he reached out and took your hand, closing it around his dick as he guided it up and down.

He moaned and hung his head back as he used both your hands on his shaft. He shuddered and leaned into your grasp. You listened to his pants as they grew quicker and quicker and he stopped you abruptly. You looked down at the glistening pre-cum as it leaked from his tip and he trailed his thumb through it as he let you go.

You flinched as he moved towards you suddenly and grabbed your hips. He lifted you and dropped you onto your back. He took your ankles and placed them against his shoulders as he stretched your legs up his torso. His cock slid along your cunt and hovered over your folds.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he bit his lips and looked between your legs as he let go of one leg and reached down to guide himself between your lips, “oh, honey, your so sexy.”

He pushed apart your cunt with two fingers and slid in between his knuckles. He gasped as you stretched around him and you pushed your head back and whined around the fabric in your mouth. You whimpered as he drew back just a little and pushed in deeper. He rocked his hips, getting further each time as your walls strained around him.

He tilted you against him so that he reached his limit and slid his thumb along your bud. He swirled around your clit as he carried a slow motion, gliding in and out of you as you slicked around him. The tingle of his touch crept like tendrils beneath your flesh and made you clench around his dick.

He groaned and sped up, just a little as he played with you, pressing more firmly on your clit until your hand shot down over his. You didn’t move him away, only gripped his wrist as he toyed with you, fucking you deliberately as the sensation melded into a maelstrom. The twisting spring inside of you compressed and released suddenly in a ripple of sheer delight.

You groaned and bent your legs against him, raising your pelvis higher so he dipped even deeper. Your eyes rolled back and you ripped the panties from your mouth in your ecstatic trance. You balled them in your hand and writhed on his dick. 

He grasped your hips and dragged your ass over the edge of the bed and rammed into you. You cried out and he did it again. It was as if he lost all control as his pelvis slapped against you loudly and his voice rumbled through the room. You gulped and gasped as he pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and rubbed harder, his fingers stabbing sharply against your flesh.

His other hand snaked up to pinch your nipple and cup your tit. He braced you as he bent over you and fucked you furiously. He stepped up onto the edge of the bed frame as he curled your body beneath his and brought both his hands up beside your head as he held himself over you.

He plunged down into you over and over and he huffed as he watched the joining of your bodies. He growled and pulled out of you suddenly, bending your legs up as you were contorted further. He grabbed your hand again and trapped it around his dick, moving it quickly as he muttered.

He came in thick ropes onto your chest and down the folds of your stomach as you were in almost a C beneath him, his knees around your thighs. You shook and lifted his chin as he snarled and kept your hand moving, still cumming over you. He tore your grasp from him as he grew over sensitive and hung his head as he quivered.

“Shit,” he swore as he backed off of you and stood, leaning on the bed to steady himself. Your legs fell over the edge and his cum cooled across your skin, “you look good like that, honey.”

He stepped closer and pushed his fingers through the mess. You shivered and stopped his hand as you slowly returned to reality. You lifted yourself on one elbow and batted your lashes in confusion.

“How did you even find me?” you uttered.

“Doesn’t matter how,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to sit up gruffly, “only that I did.”

[timextoxhajima]

Member: PWARK SEONGHWAbs

Category: playlist feels one shot

Genre: fluff and smut (idk how this is gonna turn out lol i just couldn’t get the visual of boss/ceo? seonghwa out my head and you’re his secretary and i just--)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: if you haven’t noticed by now, most of my one shots/work don’t really have cliche plots? there are certain tropes/cliches that i don’t really like or i’m just not tuned into being comfortable writing them like eg. boss and employee is pretty nasty, that’s why the chaebol juyeon series turned out like that (i’m not gonna spoil it but if you know, you know that y/n wasn’t just an employee.) so in here, i guess it’s not going to be an exception? i don’t know when the day will come that i will write one that is EXTREMELY cliche and be able to be satisfied/happy with it. 

this is the first smut i’m writing for seonghwa; i’ve only been writing it for san and a tiny bit for mingi and the rest’s literally for juyeon ;_; so i hope i don’t butcher it. 

see you on the other side :D

“니 맘 전부 알고 있어”

“I know your heart”

“oh god--” you shove the food on your spoon into your mouth, nearly throwing it on the table just as the music starts ringing in the room, and he was already resting his chopsticks on the bowl. “please don’t--”

“seonghw-- ugh.”

too late.

“forget it, do whatever you want at your own dinner table. i can’t believe you invited me over just so i have to watch you have your own concert,” the food calls you again, and seonghwa acts like he’s in a drama or a music video. 

“have you finished compiling the contracts from the previous year and making sure everything tallied?” he raises a candid brow at you, his hands reaching out to you as the lyrics ran its course. a frown draws into your forehead, and you swat his hand away, reaching for a piece of fried egg instead of watching him act his heart out. 

“i’m still working on it, but i’ll have it in by the end of tomorrow,” the egg finds its way between your teeth and you push some rice in along with it, fingers finding your phone when it lit up.

“wooyoung’s asking if we’re going to hang out anytime soon.”

you look up through your damp hair and glare at seonghwa, hands still flailing around and his torso following along with the movements. 

it really was a wonder you’ve been friends with him since you were teenagers, and somewhere, somehow, some deity really thought making you the secretary of one of your best friends was a good idea.

initially, you were relieved that your boss was someone you knew as well as you did the back of your hand, but within the first six months of being seonghwa’s secretary, you literally couldn’t help yourself from hurling a file at him once in awhile. 

it wasn’t difficult to catch you screaming at him in the office because he passed out from overworking himself, telling him to go home. not because he was taking a nap, but because you found him sprawled across his desk after working through the night.

that was the day everybody in office found out you were friends from the same circle. 

so whenever anybody had the slightest issue or complaint about their boss, they’d come to you in hopes that you would smack -- or yell -- some sense into him. 

seonghwa had his shitty days and it didn’t stop him from being a terrible boss; you could empathise. but otherwise, he’d be strutting around office and annoying the hell out of both you and your colleagues by giving them sweets, to the extent that someone would wonder just how he was the one everybody needed to address as ‘boss’.

“wooyoung? but hongjoong’s overseas and mingi practically vanished off the face of earth. if he wants to have a meal together, he needs to hunt mingi down first,” the fishcake in the soup suddenly contained enough power to make seonghwa stop rolling his chest and send it into his mouth. 

“i’ll tell him no then,” the message sends and you put the phone back down onto the table. “anyway, the security told me when i left the office that the camera in your office is down and they’ll have someone sent over to fix it over the weekend, so they just told me to relay the message to you.”

“why wouldn’t they just email me?”

your tongue digs into the gap between your gum and your upper lip sa you reach for the glass of coke. “i’m pretty sure they’ve given up emailing you, especially since you don’t use that email address often.”

“hey, i have one for office operations and one for business, is that so wrong?” his defensive tone causes his voice to crack and go off tune, striking a funny bone in you despite already hearing it a billion times over. 

“i didn’t say there’s anything wrong, it’s just annoying when you give someone your email but you don’t even check your inbox,” you finish your last spoonful of rice and chicken, downing the soup to wash down the food. “but anyway, point is, don’t do anything dumb in your office.”

he scoffs, finally returning dedicated focus to his food. the food that he bothered to prepare for you before even telling you he was cooking dinner. it made you obligated to show up, else you’d get an earful from him for being ungrateful. 

“name me one dumb thing i could do in my office,” his cat eyes widen and the whites around his pupils glare at you under the lighting. 

“how would i know?” sucking the grains of rice from the hidden spots in your mouth, letting the water droplets on the side of the coke glass run over your nails and drip off the base. “like have a heart attack and pass out tomorrow, if you choose to stay over time?”

seonghwa stretches his legs under the table, and his sock-covered feet jab you in your ankles. a sharp ‘tsk’ slides out from gritted teeth, and he laughs at your reaction. 

“it’s not peak period for companies to be contacting me now, so that probably won’t happen.”

“well, don’t leave your office door unlocked or something, someone could waltz right in and find your shit and that’ll just might be the end of you.”

“honestly, i thought it  would’ve been funnier if you encouraged me to do more dumb things in the office, since there wouldn’t be any footage of it.”

wincing in disgust, your hands wipe the water off the surface of the coke glass and you flick it at him. a loud snicker blocks out the music for a moment when he ducks and uses his arm as a shield. 

“god forsake i recorded that and told the office you said that,” the coke glass empties itself down your throat, and you help yourself out of the seat to help him clear the dishes. 

“it’s a good thing you’re worth trusting then,” you hear him say loud enough for you to hear while you rest the plates in the sink. 

a chair drags across the floor and the soft clinking of the porcelain plates from the dining table mixes with the water gushing out of the tap. 

if you had to describe your friendship with seonghwa, it’d be an open book. 

one of the best things about being friends with him was that he was always mature enough to look past little arguments or conflicts that shouldn’t have an impact on your friendship.

sometimes he was whiny and pouty and it nauseated you, but he was always one to have your back whenever you needed it. his shoulder was always there for you to cry on, not the mention the hugs he gave. 

so why ‘open book’? 

“i’m only worth trusting because you kept my secret and prevented anybody else from blowing shit out of proportion.”

a gentle chuckle rings by your ear, and seonghwa refuses to fill the sink with more dishes while you were still standing there. there wasn’t a time when he’s hosted a dinner and let his guests do the dishes for him. 

the water runs the dishwasher soap off your skin and you step away for him to take over. 

“it didn’t blow out of proportion only because i didn’t tell anybody else,” he turns and flashes his smile at you, and it reminds you of the first time you fell for it. 

you guessed it. 

park seonghwa was the love of your life at some point of time, and he knew. 

in fact, nobody else knew besides the two of you. 

you had made it so painfully obvious that if anybody was observant enough, they’d be able to pick it up. luckily for you, hongjoong was too busy making sure mingi wasn’t sticking a pen down his throat just to prove a point, and seonghwa was the only one who noticed you staring at him. 

so ‘open book’ in some sense... for the both of you. not so much anybody else outside your exclusive friendship.

the fear in your chest and entire body was so overstimulating in that moment he caught you staring at him, with eyes you assumed he would’ve found creepy, that you could’ve cried in that instant. 

it wasn’t likely that he’d stop being friends with you just because you had feelings for him, but it was likely that he’d start distancing himself from you just so he wouldn’t hurt you. 

~~~~~~~~~  FLASHBACK ~~~~~~~~~~~

“don’t fuckin’ let him swallow the pen!” he yells at hongjoong, who was struggling to use his relatively shorter limbs to hold mingi’s long limbs down. your stressed vision was darting back and forth between the little wrestling match and confusion and fear start to swallow you like waves on a stormy day when seonghwa gets out of his seat and walks towards you. 

“come on,” he shows you a hand. everybody was seated in his living room, pizza boxes empty and coke bottles neatly thrown into a trashbag in the corner with the flashes of light from the television brightening the room every few seconds. “let’s go out and grab some fresh air while these two idiots settle themselves.”

seonghwa literally pulls you to your feet, and he must’ve guessed how much shit you thought you were in, for you to require someone else to tear you away from the ground. 

the sliding doors rustle open, and the cool autumn air outside greets you as if to mock you. the street lamps outside his house prevent you from seeing any stars, but you remember why you were out here in the first place.

your fingers find each other, your nails automatically starting to pick and peel at the skin on the other hand as seonghwa pulls the doors shut, muffling the whining and the screeching mingi was polluting his surroundings with. 

your forearms were rested on the surface of the wooden barriers, and your eyes looked dead straight in attempt to avoid his. the wooden barrier creaks, and you catch a glimpse of his hands gripping the rough surface, his torso leaning over it at an angle so he could meet your eyes without needing to shift you.

the thumping and racing in your chest was so rapid and aggressive, you wish you were dead instead. your lips parted, already prepared to say sorry and get the hell out of his life before he breaks your heart first.

“seonghwa, i--”

“no, it’s okay,” his voice was gentle in the almost-quiet atmosphere. “i was already suspecting it, and you only confirmed it.”

the blood rushes from your feet into your face, and your knuckles whiten from the amount of effort you channeled into holding the wooden barriers to support yourself. the last thing you wanted to do was to pass out infront of him. 

“i know you don’t feel the same, but i don’t want this to ruin our friendship,” mustering enough courage, you turn to him and lock pleading eyes with his. 

“well, neither do i. i wish i could ignore it, and if you were just any other girl, i wouldn’t have bothered having this conversation with you,” he turns and leans his lower back against the wooden boards. “but it’s you and you’re one of the few things i can’t risk losing.” 

silence. 

“this friendship is more important than whether or not you reciprocate. so even if you did, i’d be terrified to even start one with you... in fear that we’d break up and everything prior wouldn’t mean anything,” the words roll of your tongue with such fluidity, it surprised you even more than it did for seonghwa. 

“if that’s the case, then i’m relieved,” he pushes himself off the wooden planks and digs his fingers into the top of your head, ruffling your hair. “i don’t want our friendship to finish so pathetically either, so i take it that you want this conversation to be just between us?”

the nerves in your body tell you to nod, and you carry it out before the thoughts even get processed.

a weak smile curls his lips upwards, and he removes his hand from your head. “okay. you have my word.”

~~~~~~~~ NOW ~~~~~~~~~

so just like that. 

you and seonghwa made a silent deal never to tell anybody, and you made an effort to shove your feelings for him so far down your heart, you think you might’ve shat it out into a random toilet bowl in the last six years or so. 

“anyway,” you recall how you even got to this part of the conversation. “so don’t do anything remotely dumb in the office. if anybody encourages you to do it, i’ll murder them myself.”

his teeth glimmer in the light and the water starts running its way through the bubbles and foam on his hand and the plates in the sink. 

you stay long enough to remind seonghwa not to do anything stupid in his office the next day and to lock the door whenever he wasn’t in, at least five times over. seonghwa forces you to eat some strange concoction of ginseng and peach juice before you had to run out the door and straight home. 

the next day at work passed strangely quicker, and much quieter than you thought. 

seonghwa didn’t spend much time outside you office, and your colleagues handling external liaisons were busy too. it wasn’t difficult to figure out that despite seonghwa saying that companies wouldn’t be approaching him for new partnerships, one big one must’ve come by to keep him in his little box in the corner of the floor. 

but more often than not, being seonghwa’s secretary made you feel obligated to stay until he actually chased you home. and even if he did, you’d try to peel him away from his workspace too, well aware that he’d probably spend the night in his office if you didn’t.

today wasn’t an exception. 

the last external liaison officer left the office and waved goodbye to you, leaving you at your desk in the cubicle nearest to seonghwa’s office. 

you gather the contract summaries and place them into a clear file, throwing your phone into your suitcase and pulling your blazer over your shoulders. after you hand him the contract administration file, you’re going to make sure he went home today, even if it meant shoving him off his seat. 

you stretch out your arms to straighten the sleeves of the blazer, one hand clutching onto your suitcase and the other holding the file. turning off the light at your desk left seonghwa’s office light as the last remaining source of illumination of the area. 

“seonghwa,” you call out, trapping the file between your elbow and your rib as you knocked on the door.

“door’s open,” his voice sounded so tired and strained, you wish you could scold him for being so hardworking, but that was just the way he is.

“i thought i told you to lock the door,” seonghwa’s eyes were plastered to the computer screen, sheets of paper strewn about on the desk. usually you’d be surprised, given how neat and organised seonghwa had to be. but since this must’ve been one hell of a contract, you could understand that he lost some of his bearings. 

“i’m in the office, there’s no reason for me to lock it,” his eyes tear away from the screen and look down at the papers. 

the office smelled like febreeze, which you already were used to. seonghwa sighs a loud sigh and he gets out of his seat, stretching his limbs while you walk around to his desk, placing the file down and picking up some of the sheets he was just looking at. 

you drop your suitcase to your feet and your eyes naturally begin to skim through the brand new contract he spent the entire day obsessing over. seonghwa shifts and you hear his shoes pace up and down the space behind you, probably trying to get the blood circulation going from the hours of sitting down. 

the lamp sitting on his desk illuminates the papers in your hands into a bright white, and the printed black words become so much shinier under it. 

“oh? samsung?” your eyes widen slightly at the name printed on the sheet. “no wonder you’ve been in here the whole day.”

he hums, and you start to feel his torso looming over you from behind. 

“what else do you have to do though?” you flip through the sheets, and he pushes your hair aside, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin under your ear. 

“not funny, seonghwa,” the frown deepens into your forehead when you notice all the sheets had already been filled up. “are you clearing emails? if you’ve filled up the contract sheets then there’s no reason for you to be her--”

the pressure on your lower back combined with the soft breathing on your neck cuts off the oxygen from your nose to your lungs. the air hitting your skin causes goosebumps to erupt all over your skin, and you start to cringe from the ticklish sensation. you flinch and your shoulder shrugs up to your ear as you turn around, taken aback to realise he was standing right behind you, barely giving you any space to turn. 

“uh...” the air was eerily still, and there was a strange look in his eyes that you don’t find familiar. your rear rests against the edge of the desk, and you pass the sheets to your left hand, right hand reaching up to wave it infront of seonghwa’s face. “are you okay?” 

“i’m more than fine,” gently wrapping his fingers around your palm, you raise a brow in confusion. 

you sigh and return the sheets back to the middle of the desk, hand still in his. “you look like you’re going to pass out, is there anything wrong?” 

naturally, your other hand finds his, and you pat the back of his hands like you were petting a dog.

“i need to ask something, and you gotta promise to answer me honestly,” there was a hint of fear and anxiety in his voice, and you didn’t like it. 

nonetheless, he was one of your best friends and he wouldn’t ever hurt you, no matter what he said.

he was probably going to ask something you would find offensive.

“alright,” you release his hands and cross your arms over your chest. “hit me.”

seonghwa shoves both his hands into his pocket and straightens his back, the change in posture making him look taller than what you were used to seeing. 

“do you still feel the same?”

the muscles in your neck snap your head backwards, and both eye brows lift themselves further away from your eyes. a small snort escapes your nose, and you start to nibble on your thumb. 

“‘still feel the same’? about what? about what happened seven years ago in your living room?” 

the smile doesn’t disappear from your lips, and it only gets wider when seonghwa nods. 

“park seonghwa,” you chortle, lifting your hand up to his forehead and pressing so hard into his skull that his head tilts backwards. “are you sure you’re okay? because i’m pretty sure that’s your juiced-out brain talking.”

one foot was already turned to walk out from between him and the desk, but he slams his left hand onto the surface of the expensive wood, and the loud slap of skin against wood startles you. 

your head whips to the left to look at him, and it dawns on you that he wasn’t messing with you. not a single feature on his face twitched, and you could see his soul crawling out of his eyes and threatening to squeeze into yours. 

“an honest answer.”

the most vital organ in your body starts to race, and the sensation yanks you back seven years to when seonghwa figured it out for himself. 

you haven’t felt the same kind of panic and worry since then. 

“i’d like to believe i’ve gotten over you, why?” the neurons in your brain struggled a little to piece that sentence together. 

“so it’s not a definite ‘no’?”

straightening yourself, you pat down your blazer and jab a finger into his shoulder. “did you not hear a word i just said?” 

“y/n,” this time he grabs your wrist, and you could feel the groves and bones of his fingers. “it was a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.”

a pause, and you start hearing your heart in your ears. 

“do you still feel the same?”

everything inside you screams ‘no’, but you were well aware that if you had to even convince yourself that that was the case, then it was obvious the answer is ‘yes’. you start screeching at yourself in your own head, knowing that if you kept quiet any longer, seonghwa’s sharp eyes and extreme situational awareness was going to help him crack the code. 

“i--”

“so it’s a ‘yes’.”

fuck me.

“seonghwa, let me explain, okay? it’s not that i didn’t try, i’m just letting those... stupid feelings wear away on its own,” you writhe yourself out his hold and he releases you, but you couldn’t prepare yourself for what he said or did next. 

“there’s nothing to explain, just let your heart tell you what’s good for you.”

there wasn’t a single cell inside you that could tell you why you were so scared, so when seonghwa cups your cheeks with his hands and presses his lips against yours, the realisation pulls your eyes wide open. 

red and white sirens go off violently in your head like declarations of war, and your palms press flat against his chest to push him back.

“what are you-- seonghwa, if you think this is funny, then you need to know that it’s not. at all.”

“no, please, i didn’t mean to make you think i’m messing with you,” his eyes soften, and you were relieved to realise that the seonghwa standing in front of you right now was the one you recognised.

“really? because if we weren’t friends for like ten years, i’d think you’re just another playboy.”

seonghwa offers a weak chuckle, and he rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. you take a few deep breaths to steady your heart, the mind-boggling situation not exactly resting in a comfortable spot in your head. 

“is that how you really see me? a playboy?” he raises a brow with mischief, and the slowly diminishing gap between the two of you alarms your senses all over again. 

“i’m well aware of how the girls in school used to look at you,” his breath starts to hit your upper lip again, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“okay, but that was seven years ago,” you watch with the slightest pinch of horror when his hands run up your arms and rest on your shoulders. “but now we’re both adults and i’m sure you’re mature enough to understand your own feelings, regardless of what i was treated as in school.”

“could you hurry up and get to the point?” you frown when he leans in again, your head slowly inching backwards. “all this beating around the bush is going to piss me off and i’m going to leave you here alone and go home.”

the sound of his laughter landed in your ears like music, and you let it run through you that it was one of the many things that led you to fall for him. 

“okay, well...” he licks his lips ever so subtly, and he tilts his head so you didn’t need to. “if you still have feelings for me then i want you to know that i have feelings for you too.”

the confession rests on your skin like a layer of silk, and your eyes somehow become comfortable closing this time round. 

he tasted exactly the way you’d expect him to: strawberries.

your hands were still awkwardly gripping the edges of the table, so when he finds them and pulls them around his own neck, that was when you lost all sense of reality. 

you couldn’t decide between kissing him because you still had feelings for him or because you’ve spent so much time being comfortable around him, some part of you felt so at home.

the line was so thin that you physically felt it disappear. 

the thought of it was kind of messed up, but it was seonghwa, the one who stayed your friend despite knowing you had feelings for him, the one who stayed and protected you by not telling anybody else. 

not wooyoung, not hongjoong, not mingi. 

the feeling of your entire existence, and the last seven years, melt into that kiss was so heartfelt, and it may have been your feelings for seonghwa talking, but his lips against yours felt like heaven-born puzzle pieces meant for each other. 

seonghwa picks you up and places you on the desk, the kisses soft and gentle, and his fingers on your cheek made you feel like heaven all on its own.

if hongjoong were here, you just know he was going to yell at the two of you for choosing intimacy over your friendship, but for two people who had mutual feelings for each other, there wasn’t much anybody could do about it. 

seonghwa breaks the kiss and he gives you a gorgeous smile, the sight shoving a hundred butterflies into your stomach while the strawberry taste lingers on your lips. 

“tell me if you’re uncomfortable--”

“we’re in the office--”

“camera’s not working.”

a small scoff runs off your tongue, and he dips his nose into your neck. kisses the weight of feathers land on your skin, and your heart starts running through your chest like it was in a competition. his hands push your legs open, the sudden jerk shooting little bolts of shock up your spine.

whines start to drip over your lips upon the kisses on your neck, and seonghwa drags his palms up your thighs, the pressure slightly but never overwhelming.

he wraps his arms around your waist when he returns his attention to your lips, pulling you so close to him that your chest was pressed against his, and your nose starts to pick up on his scent. 

your weight begins to shift backwards as his hands messily push all the things on his table to the side, laying you on your back but never once breaking the kiss. 

“this is so not okay,” you huff embarrassedly, arm finding your forehead when he pulls away. you heard him gulp, and it reminds you that he must be as anxious as you were, if not even more.

“are you really okay with letting me do this?” he presses a kiss into your cheek, fingers caressing your knees that he held on either sides of his hips. “you can say no, and we’ll be fine. we let it go once, we can let it go again.”

the look in his eyes were so dangerously comforting, you felt your mind glitch a little trying to process them. seonghwa was so genuine and sincere about your feelings that it made you nauseous. the pricetag the both of you were putting on tonight was your friendship. 

one wrong move and it could all go down the drain.

“i’m okay as long as i know that you’ll still be here, even if anything goes wrong.”

seonghwa looks at you with slightly sorrowful eyes, before he kisses you again, and the amount of comfort and promise that you absorbed from it was enough to make you tear up. 

“i’ll never leave you, even if we aren’t a couple and if we’re just friends... even if we stop talking fifty years down the road, i’ll still want you to be by my side in the afterlife.”

your nose sours at his little speech, and your heart shatters without warning. pulling him back to your lips, you kiss him like life was going to tear him away from you. 

seonghwa drinks your love and need for affection with ease, fingers trailing down your stomach and under your skirt to play with the rims of your underwear. 

fingers slide under the material and he smiles into the kiss when he realises your body needed him more than you’d like to admit. you would’ve slapped him across the face if he pulled away just to tease you, but he doesn’t.

he swallows a loud groan from you when he slips a finger in, and your grip around his shoulders tighten upon the blissful sensation. 

your fingers start to fumble with the dress shirt he was wearing under his blazer, and bit by bit, the whiteness of his skin start to remind you of milk. 

seonghwa removes his finger and sucks it like a lollipop, his eyes flying up to the dress shirt around your chest and he does the same for you. 

you couldn’t contain the mewls that slipped through your teeth when he undoes enough buttons to expose your cleavage, and the kisses on the curves of your breast felt like you were already one foot into the afterlife. 

the last button on his dress shirt comes undone, and you marvel at his torso. for a split second, you felt so proud you fell for him not because of his face or body, but because of his personality. yet, now with the knowledge that he looked like that under the layers of clothes, it was too difficult a task to hide the lust that overcame you almost instantaneously.

“hold your horses, kitten,” he pulls away from your chest, at the same time removing your underwear from under your skirt. your eyes involuntarily lock with his, and again, you couldn’t recognise them.

“who are you and what have you done to park seonghwa?” you mock him in attempt to calm your own bundle of nerves. a smirk pulls his lips up in the corner, and he yanks you to the edge of the table where his groin was dangerously near your exposed core. 

“i’m yours and he’ll come back once i’m done with you.”

you throw your head back into the table when he kneels down, and his tongue finds your sensitive nub. your fingers run through your own hair when he starts flicking against you, occasionally lapping your dripping neediness up. he doesn’t push into you, which was both frustrating and pleasuring at the same time. 

you start to lose your grip on reality, and just as you were about to protest against him being such a tease, he removes his face from your south and begins undoing his belt. 

your lids were droopy with lust, and watching him undo the button and zipper of his pants made it so much more worth it. 

“i wish i knew this day was coming,” you whisper to him as he leans over you again, one arm holding his torso above you and the other, you assume, pulling his underwear low enough to release himself from the material. 

“so you can tell the girls that you’re having sex with me in the office?”

the line sounded so lewd, blood began rushing both down to your south and up to your cheeks.

“what, you’re shy now?” the brow he raises was so smug, you would’ve bitten down on his bottom lip if you didn’t suddenly gasp when he plunged into you without warning. 

your chin tilts so sharply towards the ceiling, he had to pull it back down for him to shove his tongue into your mouth, and a pinch of pain seeps through your entrance into your thighs. 

the harsh, rougher kisses were pulling inappropriate noises out from your throat, and he starts thrusting into you when he assumes you’ve gotten used to him. his right hand was supporting his weight by the side of your head, and his left palm was gripping onto your thigh with such immense strength, you were sure he was going to leave marks by the time you were done. 

seonghwa finally pulls away, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and his pants becoming more apparent. your arms grip onto the edge of the desk above your head, and tears start to form in your eyes when the pain completely dissolves into pleasure and bliss. 

“my pretty, pretty, secretary,” he huffs into your ear and licks the edge of your skin, the contact sending you over an edge and the friction in your abdomen drilling dirty thoughts into your head. 

“seonghwa--” the thrusts get deliberately harder and rougher, the sudden bucking of his hips enough to jerk the entire table. “oh-- shit--”

the tip of him starts to ram into a magical spot inside you, and your eyes roll into the back of your head when he doesn’t stop.

“be a good girl and come for me.”

every word literally gets hammered into you, and it sends you into an abyss of bright light while your legs shiver in ecstasy, and seonghwa pulls out shortly after, his speed allowing him to grab some napkin from the corner of his table so that he wouldn’t release anywhere on his desk. 

you struggle to catch your breath, and seonghwa reaches over to clean you off the table. 

“oh, no,” you cover your mouth and give a painful chuckle. 

“what is it?” his voice was soft and smooth again, and the gears in your head stop to process that this was the same person who just called you a good girl a few moments ago.

he pulls your hand away and gives you a light kiss on your lips, eyes scanning your face with worry and concern. 

“i told you not to do anything dumb, but i ended up doing it with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: WHOO ok that was kinda long for a one shot. anyway, it’s super mellow compared to what i did for pilot juyeon so i hope you (smut)readers don’t mind heh. i’m still working on HOSTIS chapter 2, so look out for it! it should be up any time in the next few days. 

thank you for reading, and stay safe!!

- love, dana

[indelibleevidence]

Okay, so now I’ve finished my tantrum about queer stuff...

EVERYTHING WAS SO AMAZING.

Except for Weitz dying. I just can’t cope with that. *sobs frantically*

And there is still no sign of the murder chair, what the fuck? I’m really starting to worry about that.

Lots of flailing, and not in strictly chronological order because this is just coming to me as I type:

* The team’s reactions to Patterson being alive were just amazing (though I’m sad Kurt didn’t show more of a reaction). Zapata’s in particular was so beautiful.

* Weitz’s last words were about his hair. I just... I just... *cries uncontrollably* And the moments he got with both Afreen and Rich were so freaking amazing. Rich really does have a heart of gold, and Afreen is probably regretting every single burn she gave Weitz right about now.

* Kurt taking out six Dabbur Zann guys with no weapon, just to get to Jane... and then being apprehended anyway. That was so amazing. (Well, five and a half. Rich kind of helped.)

* The team having so many supporters amongst the agents, willing to switch sides to get Maddy’s goons out...that was perfect. And Agent Rose being back was great (even though it would have been way better to have cast the Unnamed FBI Agent Who’s Been in 62 Episodes there, and to have given her a name, finally).

* Good to see Jamie Eddy being someone besides Jaimie’s double, too.

* Watching Madeline watch everything fall apart was so freaking satisfying! Good riddance - though I really hope there was a camera on that plane, because I’m a little concerned that there were no witnesses there with her and Tasha before she died. Tasha needs all the legitimacy she can get right now.

* YES SHIRLEY DIED YES YES YES YES! (Was it just me who heard that modified voice and went ‘why are you even bothering to de-scramble it, it’s clearly Shirley!’?)

* Ivy’s picture up on the FBI screens was seriously hot. I mean, I know she’s a terrorist and terrible person, but damn...

* It was so good to see Patty and Boston doing their tech thing!

* I did suspect that Meg would come into play somehow. Hopefully she’ll get a Pulitzer or something out of this whole reveal thing. And freaking citizenship, too. She deserves that. Though I am a little affronted at her version of events - she was the one who called off the engagement, not Reade!

* I’m still not over Weitz’s final scene, after everyone assumed he just ran again. He redeemed himself in the end - now THAT was a redemption arc. WAAAAAAAY better than Keaton’s.

* Afreen was so happy Patty was alive, it was ADORABLE. I really hope she *is* in 5x11, even though social media said 5x10 was her last table read. She deserves to be there at the end with everyone else.

* I love how everyone totally accepted the team’s lead on the case, and how the team know that they have no real authority - they’re just doing what needs to be done because that’s what they do.

* Kathy is still a nutjob. But when I thought she was sacrificing herself, I did actually find myself tearing up a little. Now THAT is good writing!

* Rich’s distrust of Kathy, followed by his smugness when he was proved right, was just so fantastic.

* Boston’s poor finger. :( I hope Patty at least drove him to the hospital. Though him cutting and running again really didn’t seem like a good idea, given that the team will look bad for letting him go, especially after losing Kathy. :/

* I’m sad that Madeline and Boston didn’t get to meet again. The snark-off would have been amazing.

* I’m so relieved Allie is confirmed to be okay, since Kurt mentioned that Bethany was going back to her mother. I was scared she’d end up in the aforementioned murder chair for leverage against Kurt.

* WHERE IS NAS? I need Nas.

* I need Patty and Lincoln reconnecting at Weitz’s funeral, if we’re not going to get Patty and Tasha together in canon.

* I also need for the Dabbur Zann to have not killed poor, ZIPped Gregory Burke, now that Maddy isn’t there to protect him. I hope Tasha can find him and help him remember who he is.

* Why do I get the feeling this new interim Director is going to keep them all out of prison for taking down Ivy, but fire them all from the FBI and maybe put them on probation as a compromise? I really hope that’s the way it goes. I mean, it will really hurt Kurt to get fired, but given the alternatives...

* That final scene where Jane locks herself in...Fuck, that was heartbreaking, for both Jane and for Kurt. I really hope the denaturing of the ZIP means the effects are temporary and/or negated. Please, please, please...

* I 100% stand by my theory that MG pissed off somebody at NBC, because what the fuck? A two-episode finale would have been better than two episodes and THAT cliffhanger!

I’m sure I have more to say, but that’s all that’s coming for now. What a wild ride!

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

11. This is Fucked Up

Who. Did. This. Null. Think. He. Was? 

Xander had every intention of simply observing, recording, collecting, submitting. And waiting for Grace’s approval… But, even through the course of knowing that this particular potential X… No.. this  confirmed  X; Xander somehow convinced himself that perhaps Grace had actually simply found someone who could safely and comfortably accompany her baggage. He  wanted  to be wrong, even though he had known that he was right. 

This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up.

“I can explain,” Simon said. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes were wide. The arrogance from earlier seemed long gone and with this realization, Xander was as cold and hard as steel.

“The fact that you even believe that there is some type of way that you ever could explain this makes me morbidly curious. Please, explain to me why you have an entire man cave of stalker paraphernalia on the single most important person in my entire life. Explain to me a scenario in which me finding that you have cameras set up in my sister’s home doesn’t end in your death. Make me, a feral child with a little hair dye and a cool kid’s outfit, react in a civilized way to you marking my family as prey.”

“Not prey…”

“I’ve been doing things like this for years. I know how the mind of somebody like this works. You don’t watch someone this way unless it's to seek out details to give you an advantage over them. There's no person who does this for reasons other than power and/or predation.”

“Protection,” Simon said. “I did this to try to protect her. You weren’t there with her…” Xander flinched for a moment. “She was trying to do everything on her own. She lost Heath. She los…”

“You don’t get to speak about him like you knew him.” Simon silenced himself. Xander began to pace, slowly, assessing the storage room, but keeping his distance. “He told me about when you stopped into the flower shop. You called Grace by a label that I know she  never  would have told you. I knew  then  that you were suspicious, but I never thought that you were like this!” He gestured his pinky around the room, absolutely horrified to see so much of Grace’s face in one place… in  this  place. This box with pictures and products and everything appeared to be either her image or something pertaining to her. “This is  disturbing , Simon. Even to me, and I once stabbed off a man’s genitals with a serrated blade…” Xander watched for a reaction to that. 

Simon hardly showed any, but he was definitely uncomfortable. Still, that wasn't the response of someone who was afraid… It was the response of someone who was… plotting. Simon shifted. Xander warned him, “Stay where you are. If you come near me, I will kill you, and judging by your non-reaction to what I said, I think you know that I’m more than capable of it.”

“Capable, definitely. But… I don’t think that you’re that reckless.” Xander raised an eyebrow. Nobody had  ever  accused him of  not  being reckless before. This had to be another one of Simon's lies... “Sure, you’re impulsive and you have very little self preservation, but you know as well as I do that I  matter  to Grace," Simon couldn't help but to smirk about that. "I don’t think that you’d take that away from her. She’s already lost so much. That’s why you’re even talking to me right now instead of stuffing me in a bag and throwing me in the van.” 

Xander’s nostrils flared. Simon was smart. Arguably, the most book smart person that Xander had ever met, personally. He might be able to trip him up if he said too much. Regardless, Xander knew that he was right about  this  . Grace had already taken his side in the swing of things, as far as Xander believed, by even having him hold this space in her world,  undeserved…

Simon casually leaned back on his table and held on to it. “Let me ask you this, Xander. Has Grace ever allowed you to hurt anybody who didn’t hurt anybody, or do you all hunt down every potential danger in the city?” Xander flinched.  The O’s.  If he couldn’t  prove  that Simon was dangerous… she would be upset with him, but she wouldn’t let Xander kill him, even if it was obvious that he was a threat! Xander’s breath hardened and Simon’s arrogance returned. “I didn’t think so. Because, she isn’t some sadist searching for victims like Dexter to fulfill a bloodlust. She’s an avenging angel. Everyone she kills has hurt people and that is  why  she hurts them. She doesn’t even like to do it. She just thinks that she has to…”

“Is that something that she  told  you, or something that you  stole  from her?”

“It’s something that I understand, because I know her better than anybody ever has…” Simon said, stepping forward.

“Fuck you. STAY!”

“I want to show you something. Something that I collected in secret before I decided to do this…” Simon slowly moved, with his hands where Xander could see them to retrieve something. Xander snatched photos from his hand and stepped back. “When Jalicia was grieving, because Heath died and you nosedived… Grace came over for an alibi and       fell asleep.” Xander was flipping through photos of bruises on her body. He felt dirty for even having seen them, because she was sleeping and Simon obviously took these without her permission, and guilty, because that never would have happened if he hadn’t slipped up. Xander flung them and they slapped Simon in the face. He let them fall to the ground. “I was worried that one of those times, she might get hit harder than she could stand. She needed someone else, because nobody else was there for her.”

“You really think that I’m naive. I know what you’re doing. You think that you can make me feel guilty for being sick and unavailable to Grace and make me think that this is why you needed to do this… but all you’re doing is making me see why it has to be me that handles you. She won’t be able to do it, because I left her exposed to the elements and you poisoned her. She’ll be hurt at first. She’ll be angry that I took away her favorite new thing. She’ll be hurt that you wasn’t what she thought… But, she’ll be  safe,  and I care more about that than I do her having a tantrum over losing you.”

“You want to add to the list of names that she cries out in her sleep?” Simon asked.

Xander had flashes of Grace through the years. That was precisely what she did. At 12, when he met her, she whimpered in her sleep for kids that were even right next to her in bunks, dreaming about the things she’d seen them go through. Of course she still did this. There were so many names. So many losses. If she loved them, she’d probably lose them. All she had left was her Apex survivors.  And Simon?

Xander fumed and rushed forward. How dare he try to use Grace’s pain to save himself! He didn’t care about her! He just wanted to… do SOMETHING to her that Xander wasn’t sure of, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him. He tackled Simon to the concrete and Simon bumped his head on the table as they knocked it over. It caught Simon completely off guard. He was on guard, because it was a stressful time and still caught off guard. He tried to get away, but Xander pulled him into a chokehold and wrapped his legs around him. Elbowing Xander only made him punch Simon extremely hard in the ribs and gut. 

Simon began to pat him down, panicked, but still  thinking. This dude was… sort of impressive, Xander noted, until Simon found what he needed. Xander’s syringe. Xander tried to get it from him with one hand and keep him choked with the other arm, but that gave Simon enough room to unseal it and stab him in the arm with it. Xander flailed for a moment, but he managed to sputter out. “You can’t do anything, Simon. You’re… still… fucked…” He was disoriented whenever Simon got up and looked at him, on the floor, trying to move away. 

This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up.

Of course, Xander was absolutely right. Simon couldn’t kill him! He wasn’t sure that he had the stomach to kill anybody, not even somebody who hated him as much as Xander clearly did, but this was Grace’s… there wasn’t even an accurate word for what he was to her. Brother, best friend, hell even soulmate seemed so pale in comparison to whatever it was that they had going on… Not in a romantic way, but in a... ugh symbiotic way, in which he didn’t think that Grace was any more capable of living without Xander than he was without her. Hurting Simon would have hurt her, but hurting Xander? That would kill her. She would kill him, probably. 

Whatever they gave their victims to knock them out was doing it’s job with Xander. Simon checked him for his phone. It wasn’t on him, so probably in his vehicle, if he even brought it along at all. Simon grabbed his gun. The last thing he needed was Xander to wake up and find it somehow. He looked around. He’d have to figure something out. Did he want to try to throw Xander in his trunk? Tie him up here? He searched for something to tie him up… he didn’t have anything. At least nobody could ever accuse him of being prepared to abduct. He improvised, with Xander’s overshirt. That wouldn’t hold him for long, but it might help a little. He grabbed a few things that he valued and put them in his trunk. He didn’t believe he had the time or the room in his car to grab the surveillance equipment, but he at least unplugged it all.

He shut the storage and left to go meet up with Grace. He was crying, but at least Xander couldn’t warn her that he was coming. But, he had to determine what he was going to  do  about him. 

He holstered his gun and pulled his hoodie over himself. He just… was on edge, felt unsafe, didn’t know WHAT to think or do… He paced for a little bit outside of her apartments before daring to go knock on the door. 

She flung it open, looked relieved, and hugged him tightly, “Simon! You’re okay…” He wrapped his arms around her, positive that this was probably his last time to do so. Once she found out about Xander, his world might come crashing down. 

Then he saw her. That girl with the bomb on her neck and it finally hit him where he recognized her from. He’d seen her on Xander’s social media months ago whenever he was trying to find out more about Grace.  She was in on this… Was Grace?  D  id Grace know Xander had found him out? Did she send him? She cupped his face and kissed him quickly on the lips. “You’re safe.” He shivered and she wiped his tears, “It’s okay. Come on…” She led him in and the tattooed lady folded her arms and stared at him. “I think you’ve met my friend, Alexandria.” Grace covered her face with her hands, then took Simon’s into hers. “You’ve been super patient with me through a lot of questionable shit, but I know, with what happened earlier, that you’re probably so tired of me and my mess…”

“That’s not..” he shook his head. “It.”

“Where is Xander?” Alexandria asked. 

Grace was so consumed by the thought of her friends breaking into Simon’s home and potentially hurting him that she got distracted. But, Simon turned pale whenever asked that, so she immediately tensed up and stared at him. “He’ll be here shortly… He was following him, right?”

Alexandria showed Grace her phone. The picture mail from Xander was of Simon opening a storage unit and being inside of it and the caption, “747: Gonna engage the X” Now, Grace and her both looked at Simon. “Redness on his neck, little blood on the side of his face. Xander engaged with the X.” She jumped up and rushed at him, “What did you do?” 

Grace quickly slid between them and held her at bay. “I’ll handle this, please have a seat.” She turned around and studied Simon’s visible signs of a struggle and smiled softly at him, “Hey. Xander can be scary. He’s not very big, but he makes up for it in other ways. He’s tough, and he’s always been a fighter. If a fight occurred, I would imagine that somebody who isn’t very used to hand to hand combat might panic and try to defend themselves however they could, so… What did you do?” Her voice was calm, but her heart was racing and beating in her ears as her face was red and tears burned to escape the stronghold of her ducts. She was on fire, worried about why Simon might be so pale at the mention of Xander. Was Xander somewhere with head trauma, bleeding out while Simon found the courage to put it into words?? She didn’t want to alarm him and make it harder to find her friend, but she also was the most unsettled that she had been in a long time.

Simon nodded, “I defended myself. He.. He had a syringe, but I was able to get to it and I stuck him with it.” Both women sighed with relief. Simon started crying.

“Hey… Mon Beau Petit,” it sounded so pretty in her voice, and she was smiling, relieved that her symbiotic other was still alive as she touched Simon’s chin. “Can you take us to him?” He wasn’t bleeding out, but the tranquilizers in his system probably would make him sick, especially having recently detoxed.

“I locked him in my storage closet.”

“Okay, then we won’t have to search for him. But, let's just get to him so that I can make sure he’s okay, and I’ll keep them away from you and then… you’ll never have to worry about us again. I’ll leave you out of this mess. I just have to get Xander returned safely to me, okay?”

Simon sniffled, “You don’t understand. The reason he was trying to attack me…” 

“Let’s… get to him first, okay? Please?” He nodded. 

In the car, he tried to explain to Grace what happened. “Do you remember whenever I told you that I follow people?” Alexandria tilted her head, surprised by hearing this interesting tidbit. Grace blushed. She didn’t want to speak about that in front of someone else, but Simon kept going. “I thought maybe you realized. There were definitely moments where I said to myself, she knows. She has to. You must have sensed it, at least… Xander did. He sensed what was happening and he got suspicious and he came after me because I was watching you…”

Grace sputtered some air through her lips and cracked her fingers, “This isn’t really the time.”

“It has to be, because whenever we reach Xander, he’s gonna have the floor. I have to tell you now!” He sounded very urgent and Alexandria was already reaching for her butterfly knife.

“Stand down,” Grace said, not even looking at her. Then to Simon, “Listen… I know that you and Xander were fighting for a reason and I love Xander very much, but I don’t always side with him. I just think we need to get to him, then we can…”

“I did it to you!” There was a lengthy silence in the car. Whenever he finally stopped, in the lot of a storage company, he added on, “Xander found proof that I did it to you and he knew that wasn’t enough, so he was going to kill me and I… I didn’t want to die… I don’t want to die.”

“You aren’t going to die, Simon,” she said, but she felt like she had been gutted. Of course she knew… There was always a little sign that he knew too much. But, he was harmless. If Xander wanted to kill him, she just… there had to be more to it than this…

They could hear him before they reached the unit. He was throwing things and yelling. “Let him out!” Grace said. Simon unlocked the pad and opened the storage. 

Xander was ready to lunge, but he saw them first. “Grace!” He hugged her tightly and then whimpered, “Xandria.” Simon stepped into the storage container. Xander had made quite a mark. So many things were tossed around… months of research and fixation… 

“Simon… what is that?” Grace wondered, pointing the monitors. Her home, the inside of her car, her locker at work??? “Simon…?” Xander had plugged them back in and didn’t damage them… of all the things that he had taken his frustrations out on.

“I… just… needed…” She backed away. He stopped. Damage had been done. 

Her lip was quivering and she was still holding on to Xander, who was sobbing, mid panic attack, yet still zoned out from the tranquilizers. She didn’t want to let go of him. He was clean, and now he had chemicals in his system, along with being locked up for however long he was conscious, the fear that maybe Simon had gone to find Grace and hurt her and surrounded by… what Grace could only think of as a room of horrors. Her photos, artwork, partial figures… he even had what appeared to be a mannequin or a life sized doll… and she didn’t want to let Simon out of her sight or be in his presence, simultaneously.

“X confirmed,” Xander whimpered, over and over. “X confirmed. X confirmed…”

“Shhh shhh shhh…” She strummed his hair and guided him over to Alexandria. “Take him home. Don’t… say anything to the others, yet. I’ll take care of this.” She gestured at Simon.

“By yourself?” Alexandria wondered, looking at Simon. He didn’t look like much, but he was a little bit larger than Grace and he  had somehow gotten the drop on Xan, of all people. Xander wasn’t able to fight right now and did need to be brought to safety, but she didn’t know about leaving Grace alone, especially getting a look into this storage room.

“Yeah. Simon, toss me your car keys.” He bit his lip, and obeyed. “I’m gonna take his car and I’ll um… I’ll be okay.”

“No, Grace! He’s an X.”

“Who has he hurt, Xander? What child did he attack? What person has he abused or killed or did anything to?”

“This… This is fucked up, Grace, look at this!” Xander said, shaking Alexandria off of him. “You’re gonna give him an O? You’ll make him an O instead??? You trusted him, the first person you trusted and he  violated  that trust.” He began whispering to her, but everyone could still hear him, “You know how much damage I’ve been able to do with my reconnaissance… He’s doing what I do to perps, but to YOU. And his budget and his system is massive. You can’t let this stalker walk.”

And after that, he knew that he knew how to do Xander’s job, and do it better.

In the moment, he was more concerned by what Grace thought.  Would she kill him for this? Surely not. That wasn’t the woman that he had come to know. Under all of the things that she made herself into, there was this precious woman who was soft and caring...

“He told me who he was, Xan. This is… This doesn’t feel good, but you can’t X him over it…” Simon smiled at the fact that she wasn’t willing to kill him. He didn’t like that she didn’t feel good, but presently, it pleased him more that she hadn’t dismissed him outright. So, he reflexively let out a pleased little chuckle and Xander broke free from her, determined he would take Simon out right then and there. 

He wasn’t cohesive enough, but he still had pretty good form to punch (albeit not as hard as usual), and he managed to get him to the ground where… a gun fell off of him… Grace kicked it aside and Xander laughed, vindicated as his best friend actually crumbled before them. “You have a GUN?” Grace asked. “I’ve never seen you with a gun before, Simon…” her eyes were wide, shocked, frightened.

“I have a license…” He began to pick himself up from the ground.

“But… Why… did you bring your gun to see me ?” she asked in a small voice, already crying, holding her arms out for the sky to drop an answer into them. Her face showed him she’d deduced an answer on her own. 

He shook his head, “No. No. I wasn’t gonna… I would never hurt you, Grace! All I’ve wanted to do since I’ve met you is know you and love you! Why do you think I’ve never turned you in? You think that I wouldn’t do my research? I know what you’ve been doing. I don’t know where they vanish to, but I’m guessing it’s someplace for the dead.” He laughed nervously, but came too close, so that she flinched when he neared her and he froze… He shook his head.  Why would she flinch? Why didn’t she understand that he wouldn’t hurt her? “Have I ever done anything but support and comfort you? Grace… My Doll…”

“Don’t.” She was crying, now and her eyes couldn’t manage to stay still as they retraced every thought of every interaction that they ever had. She shook her head, “Oh my God… I was never even a person to you, was I?”

“A person? Grace… People are disgusting... animals! They’re scum that prey on others and harm them. You’re someone who cleanses the world of such filth… So, no… You’re no person. You were always more than that and I just needed to BE with you!” He took a swallow and said, “I didn’t want it to come to this. I tried to be close to you organically and you pushed me away every time it felt too good, because you just couldn’t believe that anybody could adore the real you. You MADE me do this!”

“808, stay on the O,” Grace said. Her voice was cold, but he saw in her face that it hurt her to walk away from him. Alexandria picked up his gun and whipped out her knife.

“Grace, don’t leave. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just upset. Please don’t…” He tried to follow her. 

“I can injure an O,” Alexandria said, pointing the gun at him as Grace and Xander got into Simon’s car. Simon pulled out his phone, but she slapped it from his hand. “Are you trying to make me kill you? Because, I really don’t like to do that. Not like this, anyway. An explosion or a fire, yeah. I hate getting blood on me. It’s hard to clean off and the smell makes me gag. But, behind them, you’d better believe that I will.”

He smirked and raised his hands, “I understand. She has that effect on people.”

“Come here…” She grabbed him and shoved him towards Xander’s car, popped the trunk and said, “Get in.”

“Are you going to kill me?” He seemed numb as he asked it. 

“Grace said not to, so no. But, I’ve gotta make sure that you don’t get anywhere near her. So, hop in or I take out your limbs and throw you in.” She almost felt bad for him. Grace had just walked away from him and she obviously mattered a lot to the dude. But, he also was an enemy.

“That sounds unpleasant,” he said and climbed in. “What do you usually do to O’s?”

“Usually they don’t know we exist. We wait for them to fuck up to get the proof to bump them up to an X.”

“Grace doesn’t like to kill harmless people,” he said.

“We saw children die before they ever had the chance to even know who they were. You don’t kill innocents, then you’re no better than the nulls that we kill.”

“No matter what I did to get close to her, she was never going to let me into her world, was she?”

Alexandria sighed and stuck his gun into one of her pockets and zipped it up. She kept the knife brandished though. “Why would you  want  to be? Xan looked you up. You had academic trophies and shit. You were writing books as a child. You’re famous to people who give a fuck about books. Your mom loves you. You’ve got a sister or something. You get to speak on panels at conventions or go to them and play dress up, and that’s something you appear to love, and with people you have things in common with. Why was it so important to you to be…” she gestured at the storage with her blade, “This close to somebody like Grace?” ‘  I wish I never met these people,’ She didn’t add.

He crossed his hands over his belly and wrapped his fingers in each other. “Have you ever watched something die?”

She scoffed, “You know what we’re about. I’ve seen plenty of “somethings” die.”

“Then, you know how it is at the end of their lives. They fight. They move. They do anything to stay alive one moment longer. Even if it hurts. Even if it only kills them faster. Survival mode has been initiated and they will not stop until they recover from even the sense of death, or until they die…” He shut his eyes and began thinking about the pain in Grace’s when he first met her. “Seeing Grace live was a lot like watching something die. Always in survival mode, even if it hurt, even if it could kill her faster. With most situations, when you’re watching something die… you want to do something about that. You don’t just want to watch it die. Sometimes, you just can’t help. But, sometimes… they let you get close enough to take them in and patch them up and see them through.” He let out a sad chuckle. “She left survival mode when she was with me. She knew that I was there to help and to heal her.” 

Alexandria had tears in her eyes and she turned her face towards the moon. “That’s not really love, though. I mean, it’s nice or whatever, in certain cases, but if the only reason that you wanted to be with her was so that you could save her, that’s some self important bullshit and only serves your ego.”

“Only?” He sat up, but she didn’t get alarmed. He adjusted, and sat next to her. “Yes, it felt really good to know that I had been given access to her, but you saw how she was with me… have you ever seen her that way with anyone? Xander thinks he helped her but he’s the person who sees you helping and comes along and says, “Leave them alone. They don’t need help”… Then you both just watch them die…”

“Man… What. Even are these metaphors of?”

“That one was about the bird that Paul Levchefsky said was fine and told me that if I touched it, its mom wouldn’t want it anymore. It died. Paul just continued playing at recess, and there was a dead bird near my action figures that had just died because I didn’t do anything to save it…”

“In Paul’s defense, if you were young enough for recess, you totally couldn’t save that damn bird on your own. They have like… bird doctor specialists or something.”

“I watched a lot of shows and documentaries on animal habitats and wildlife rescue whenever I was a kid and I was very smart. I could have at least tried, if he hadn’t interfered.” She shrugged her shoulders. Simon kept talking, “I was fixated on those shows for years. I remember seeing certain scenes where the cameras would be filming something being mauled to death, crying out while being ripped to shreds…”

“In a wildlife rescue show?” She asked, laughing.

“What? No… two different… Animal habitat shows AND wildlife rescue shows…”

“Shit, I was gonna say…”

“We are so off topic…” he did notice that she wasn’t holding her knife as tightly.

“Doesn’t matter. We have nowhere to be at the moment. We can chill and talk about Grace… and animals being ripped to shreds, apparently.”

Back to his point, “The cameras recorded for us. We were able to see these things. My mom would be like, ‘Why would you want to see something like this?’ and the truth was I didn’t. I hated seeing animals die. I hated seeing it, but it was nature. It was for their survival. I’d just ask her, ‘Why would anybody want to record it?’ They recorded it because they wanted those of us who weren’t in the wild to know how it was. It was allegedly educational. They’d have a British guy explaining what you already were seeing with your own eyes, just in case you couldn’t comprehend why everything was so brutal and why you couldn’t turn away. People are similar. I’ve been watching people for a long time. They’re interesting to a certain degree. But, despite what reality television series would have us believe, if you looked at people’s lives, there’s not much to be interested in over an extended period of time. The only people that we want to see is one with a story that gives us that feeling that we get when we watch animals in the wild.”

“Are you comparing Grace to a wild animal?”

“I’m comparing mankind to wild animals. Grace is... something else. There’s never been something in the wild like her before. She’s seen what animals do to each other and she’s stepped in on their behalf. She’s like a saint…” Alexandria stared at him, looking at this zealous passion in his eyes as he marvelled over Grace and how wonderful she was. He didn’t know her like she knew her. Grace was definitely the Queen Bee, but  Saint  was absolutely stretching the truth.

He laughed again, “St. Catherine… You know… I think I know which St. Catherine she chose her last name for.” Alexandria looked uncomfortable. “St. Catherine of Alexandria!” He cheered. She didn’t seem phased by this discovery of his. “The patron saint of… philosophers and scholars? Grace loves reading, has a Messiah complex and a friend named Alexandria…”

“She wasn’t thinking of me whenever she named herself that. It’s just a coincidence. Definitely probably the… scholar thing, or whatever you said. She does think she’s so smart. But, if she’s so smart, how did she let you get this close?” 

He smirked, “Almost seems like she  wanted  me there, huh?” He shrugged his shoulders and laid in the trunk again. Alexandria had all but put her knife away. She was thinking about that one statement. Out of everything else this man said, (and he could talk a lot), that was the one that wouldn’t leave her mind, even as he spouted out all of the facts that he remembered from when he read up on St. Catherine of Alexandria (to predict why Grace chose that last name. Hell, she could have just chosen from a list or something!) 

But… for her to not notice that Simon was watching her so closely… IF she didn’t want him there, that meant that she maybe  was  in those last moments, before death. She was weakened or dimmed, somehow. She… was potentially a threat to herself and the operation and most likely a liability… Xan would NEVER hear that. Not about his Grace, and look at the mess she’d gotten him into tonight! He’s got tranqs in his system. As a recovering addict, was having a full blown meltdown and really believed that this guy needed to go to the Field of Nulls. The problem was that usually, neither of them were wrong. Xander made mistakes, but was rarely wrong. Grace didn’t usually make mistakes, but had obviously made one this time, unless the throwaway comment was accurate and she wanted this from Simon… Alexandria was vexed, and Simon was STILL talking

.

Simon’s car was in the driveway whenever Alexandria let him out of Xander’s trunk at home. “She’s gone.” He sighed. “I’m going to find her, you know. I’m never going to let her go.”

“That’s not my problem,” Alexandria knew that when it came to that, Xander would definitely make it hers. In order to make it hers in less time, she wouldn’t mention that little comment to him.

“It was nice to meet you.” 

“As a hostage?”

“I didn’t consider myself a hostage. We were in fellowship. Discussing Grace.”

“I don’t worship her.”

“Then why do you do everything that you do for her?” She furrowed her eyebrows and he nodded, “You do it for him. He’s got a girlfriend though. At least, they seem… cozy…” He saw her eyebrow twitching. “Of course, you know that. You’re all a close knit group of friends. That’s precisely why Grace was all alone whenever he was incapacitated...”

“Until next time, marked O. Be careful.” 

“Same to you, 808…” She clenched her fists and took off walking down the hill of his driveway.

.

It had never been used, so she broke it in with housewarming, even though she didn’t want to be there long. Her friends all came. Xander complained the entire time that with that O out there, they were foolish to come to her safehouse in Canada. But, she was both confident that she had no sign of this place anywhere that Simon would have had access to, and she was lonely. 

Xander didn’t want Alexandria to come. He told Grace that he feared that she had been compromised while keeping Simon away from her while she got away. To not start an argument, she simply let it go. She and Alexandria were once very close, but they hadn’t been lately. They’d always all be Apex, but 808 had left them for a time, too… Grace wasn’t worried. Xander was taking care of things. “Training someone to do Heath and Jalicia’s work isn’t easy. Heath’s not here to show his system and…” he looked over at Jalicia, who may have been asleep or not, with a cowboy hat resting on her face. “I don’t like to bother her. It’s still all too much, I think.”

“I have a responsibility to help everyone that I said I would help. So… I’ll see what I can do. I still have plenty of shady contacts from back in the day...”

“We can’t trust them. We can only trust us.”

“Well, according to you, we can’t even do that. Alexandria was “compromised?”

“Well… She’s been behaving oddly. Like she has ideas that she didn’t have before. I know he tried to get into her mind, like he tried to get into mine… like he…” He began to fasten and unfasten the velcro on his shoes. 

“Like he got into mine?”

“She did have one point… There’s no way that you’re both on your A game  and didn’t realize what you were dealing with. I think he played every angle that he learned from watching you to make you vulnerable… So, maybe it’s good that you took this vacation. You can even work from here…”

She blinked away tears. “I’m all alone here. I hate being alone. Alone is when the monsters get to you.”

“Hey. What did we say whenever I had to be in rehab? It’s not forever, just ‘til it’s better.”

“There was a building full of people there. I’m off the grid and far from home.”

“Let me deal with him, and then you could come back.”

She raised an eyebrow, “I can come back any time I please.”

“Of course you can.” He felt embarrassed. “I only meant… I don’t think it’s safe.”

“What’s he been doing?”

“I’m making sure he’s not able to reach out to you… Unless that’s not why you’re asking?”

She felt hot, “He was a soft spot, Xan. Somewhere that I could rest my head and just breathe for a little bit. That was taken away from me, and I’m sorry that I haven’t bounced back in a matter of days.”

“I watched you bounce back in a few minutes after your first beheading.”

“That was before I realized that monsters are people like us… I thought a steward was some type of dragon. They’re all people. Horrible people… but people. Simon  wasn’t  a horrible person. He did something that I never thought anybody could do… he made me feel like I loved him, and it was different than how I love you. It was different than how I love Mom and Dad. It was… I felt like he was in my system… in my bloodstream.”

“That was fucking oxytocin.” She bursted into tears and he chuckled too, even though he was serious. 

She leaned on him and gave him a hug. “No. This is oxytocin. That was something else.”

“Whatever it was… you don’t need it.”

“No. Whatever it was, I  didn’t know  I needed it… and now, I do.” She grabbed her phone and went online. “I want so badly to check his pages. Then, I wonder, does that make me a hypocrite? I got so mad…”

“That he placed cameras in your personal spaces without your permission. He could have cyber stalked you all day and night for all I care. But, I wasn’t going to allow him to do  that  .” He could tell from her face that she was about to justify things and take up for him. She had been back and forth with this for the past few days. Reminding them that he didn’t actually hurt anyone, confessing that she told him that stalking wasn't even that bad (one time), and regretting walking away from him and fleeing town...“Remember that he showed up with a gun.” She nodded. That was always the reality check. He  did  show up with a gun.  Why? If not to harm or threaten her? And just seeing a gun (sometimes just in media) gave her a visceral alarm. The red flags were drenched in blood and she didn’t want it to be her blood. She had too much work left to do, after this little staycation. She had to let Simon go the way that she had to let everyone else that she loved and lost go. 

.

The storage room went up in flames the day that Grace found out about it. Simon tried to salvage what he could and had the storage insurance, but the things that couldn’t be - certain recordings and photos that he no longer had access to, with Grace blocking him and blotting him out! He was trying to be sensible about things. It was a volatile situation. He knew that, but he just couldn’t believe that she was going to stay angry about this. The things that she had been through in her life, and this was where she chose to draw a line? Of course, he was grateful that she hadn’t allowed him to be killed. He truly feared for his life whenever he saw Xander Helstrom.

That was why whenever he was trailing Grace’s friends, if Xander ever appeared, Simon quickly caught ghost. He knew that he had at least warmed Alexandria up a little bit whenever they talked. She didn’t have friends outside of this group (like most of them), but the difference was… she wasn’t really friends with them, either. She felt more like a trauma bonded obligatory participant than like one of Grace’s other inner circle acolytes. The ones that he needed to work on were those other two ladies. 

He rented an apartment to rebuild his… research facility, and fortunately for him, he knew where an apartment had just been vacated, and he also had the money to get it immediately, telling the renter that he needed it too urgently to wait until they cleaned it out, so he would just do so and was willing to sign a waiver stating such… Grace left a lot behind. Nothing about the organization, of course, but just other things. Whenever you were related to people like the Monroes, you didn’t really need to hold on to things. She took what mattered to her. She hadn’t left behind anything that might be sentimental, but her furniture, many of her clothes, and stuff like bedding, towels, etc were still there… Simon searched through everything and… nothing that he had ever given her was there. “She took me with her…”  Or she threw you in the trash…  

He set up anew in the space and didn’t get rid of any of her old things, either, though he moved much of it around to clear a room for all of the things he needed. 

Simon read several “tips” on hacking, talked to Tulip and some of his computer nerd associates. Hypothetical questions… you would expect them to only be able to go so far, but for the most part, a few laughed about his “nefarious plans” with the information and kept talking but several didn’t seem bothered at all. They’d ask, “What project are you working on?” and depending on how well he knew them, he might say, “I’ve been trying to look up an old friend who I heard moved away, but I’ve lost her info, or research for a story.” Either way, the only person who seemed bothered was Tulip, and he’d tried to be as vague as possible with her.

“I told you not to come to me with anything else crazy.”

“How is this crazy? I’m just trying to figure out what systems this guy used and in what way!”

“Well, this guy, whoever he is, was doing some pretty sad work and honestly, if someone were to try to track him down, they’d find exactly what they were looking for… A lot of spying on a lot of people, people… who it looks like have VANISHED, Simon.”

"WAIT. So, this hacker wasn't even good at what he was doing?"

"He wasn't wonderful…  I mean the cops probably wouldn't catch him but hopefully the FBI or CIA or something would. I say those because there are dozens of missing people in this man's computer. Simon… I told you not to…"

"Tulip, listen to me. This is very important, okay? It's life or death."

"Dear God…"

"I need you to give me that information and tell me how I would be able to defend against somebody doing what you're doing right now."

"Simon. Is this for that woman? Grace? Your mom told my mom that you're "seeing someone" named Grace. I thought it was odd, because of the information we discussed before and…"

"This is a dead person's computer. What he has on it is why  he's dead."

"You  promised, Simon. This is really unfair…"

"Life or death, Tulip. Could be mine, could be somebody else's…"

She looked at the first figure that Simon ever made her, of one of her first video game characters and whispered, "This is the last time that you get to do something like this. I feel manipulated and I don't appreciate that this is potentially dangerous to you or anyone else!"

"I'm sorry, Tools… I had nobody else. You're my only friend and I just happened to be lucky enough to have you be the best at this kinda stuff." She was there, because he heard her sigh repeatedly as she thought about it. “I’m really in love with her. She found out about me looking into her and she felt betrayed.”

“She’s justified in that.”

“And now, she’s out there alone, and people like those on that list, the ones who vanished… I know that you’re in the process of researching them… They’re bad people. They would hurt her. I just want to protect her.”

“I would ask if you’ve been disappearing these guys, since I obviously don’t know you at all… but the timeline isn’t right. They’ve been disappearing since before you ever looked into her,” she groaned, “Why on Earth could you not have mediocre white man first world problems? I don’t want to cross the mafia because you want to… whatever it is that you’re doing with these people… I… What is happening to them? Do you at least know that?”

“Thankfully, I don’t. I wouldn’t want to have to give you any more madness. But, from what I understand, Grace is helping to take down a child trafficking ring.”

“Taking them down, alright.”

“Is that so  wrong?”

“We all say stuff like, “I’d like to get rid of them all!” but… None of us actually do it, most of us don’t actually want to do it, and all of us should not do it. We just don’t know enough. What if they’ve done nothing wrong?”

“They all have.”

“But how do you  know, Simon? Did you see them? Were you there when they did it? Was it real, or was it an interpretation of scared children? There’s just so many variables, and with the types of proof that your dead source came up with… why not just turn these people in? Why do they have to vanish in order to handle them?”

“Look up Washington’s laws on these things and see for yourself.” 

She sighed again but it was a different type. “10 years does not seem like a lot of time for trafficking.”

“And it would have to be proven, beyond a reasonable doubt. I just had to convince my closest friend that I’m not working for the Seattle mafia, if that is even a goddamn thing.” She chuckled. “I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate you, and especially this mess from this year. I never should have involved you. But… your tuition is paid up!”

“Therapy is next, Buddy.”

“Send me the bill. It’s done. I PROMISE promise.”

And after that, he knew how to do Heath’s job,  and do it better.

.

Whenever he first went to Heath Farmer’s home, it was indecent. He knew two things at the time. One - that he was killed on the night that Grace first asked him to lie for her and her friends and two - that he seemed to be where Grace picked up the paperwork. So, whenever Jalicia was having a moving out garage sale, Simon stopped by to give Grace a cupcake, look around, and phish his computer on the sly. He found out soon that Jalicia had been Heath’s long time girlfriend, and also that he eventually planned to marry her. Heath’s computer was like a shrine to her. Her photos were backgrounds and there were folders of them and she was in his calendar a lot and… They LIVED together. Why did he need this calendar? What was important was that Heath left a lot for Simon to work with. 

This woman was young. She wasn’t even old enough to drink yet, but apparently was really great at games and puzzles…

There were photos of her gaming (Simon knew to try to find out what games and what her handles were online), photos of her putting puzzles together, finished products, several of those puzzle books in their home, and Simon wondered if she ever put this little gift into play for Grace. How might she have contributed? What did she do for work, he wondered… Not that it mattered for this project, as Heath Farmer’s work didn’t have much to do with his job for Grace and these people, but he was curious, all the same.

Alexandria Jones was not a threat. He knew how to do Xander’s job. He knew how to do Heath’s job. He pinned up two photos of his next studies. Jalicia Barrett (227) and Sunetra Kincade (1000). He placed a sticky note on the corner of hers:  Xander’s GF? Destroy that.

12. On Your Side

[viceprints]

TITLE: Let’s Talk About Love SUMMARY: Ji and Kane answer questions about idols dating life on their podcast “Vice After Dark”. They almost let some information slip about one of the members having a relationship with their photographer... GENRE: comedy(?), friendship. PAIRING: Platonic! Kane + Ji WORD COUNT: 1.7k WARNINGS: none

FEBRUARY, 2014

"Honey, I’m home!” Ji cheered into the air, reclining his chair back so his body angled towards the ceiling. He snapped himself forward, adjusting his headphones. “It’s been too long since our last Vice After Dark episode.”

“I’ve missed our Virtues and listeners. I felt so disconnected from them during After Dark’s hiatus.” Kane added, adjusting his microphone stand.

“But we’ve been connecting with them a lot lately, huh?” Ji grinned. “Because of our promotions, we see Virtues nearly everyday. When do you think they’ll get sick of us?”  Kane pretended to think the question over. “Hm... I give it two more days. Once they’ve seen Minho’s abs once, they’ve seen them a thousand times.”  “Yeah... I feel that...” Ji sighed, looking down at his less-chiseled abdomen. Kane laughed, clapping his hands together. 

“Anyways, I’m Ji,” Ji introduced himself to the camera. “And I’m Kane.” Kane waved. “And this is episode 31 of Vice After Dark!” Ji cheered, pressing a firecracker sound affect on his soundboard, following by clapping, a car revving, and a clip of Minho yelling ‘booyah’. 

“I forgot you had that soundboard.” Kane frowned, shaking his head slightly in disapproval.  “Oh you did? Does this setting jog your memory?” Ji smirked before pressing a button, prompting a clip of Kane saying “oh my god” with a major voice crack at the word “god”. Kane shook his head with a small smile on his face all while, giving Ji an seething look.  “No? Let me try again.” Ji pressed the button one more time. Then he pressed it again. And again. And again until Kane finally kicked his group mate under the table. 

“Ouch!” Ji scooted his chair back. While Ji was distracted, Kane took over the direction of the episode. 

“Anyways, Virtues better want to hang out for a little more, because tonight's topics are...” Kane inhaled through his teeth. “Well they’re pretty saucy.”  “Oooh, tell ‘em how saucy, Kangdae.” Ji played along. “Let’s just say... We are very lucky that this is a night-time airing, otherwise this whole episode would be censored.” Kane grinned mischievously.  “Woah, woah,” Ji put his hands up as he laughed. “It’s not that vulgar, don’t be a tease.”

“Alright, alright, it’s not that saucy, but maybe one day, who knows.” Kane shrugged. Ji shook his head and rolled his eyes.   “The day we have a saucy podcast episode, you’re getting replaced with Geonwu.” Ji said. Kane’s jaw dropped in offense. “What? Why?” The younger demanded. “Because what stories are you gonna tell? You’re gonna tell the audience about all the times you’ve made accidental eye contact with people at the airport?” Ji taunted. Kane glanced at the clock. “We’ve been recording for ten minutes and you already are causing problems...”

Ji laughed, amused at how annoyed Kane looked. “You know, I could say some really exposing things about you and your personal life.” Kane threatened, pointing a finger at Ji accusingly. “I have seen some things, Joongji.” “Nah, man, save those stories for another time. I’m not ready to be kicked out of Vice just yet.” Ji shook his head. Kane’s smile widened as he shook his head, returning to his notes. 

“Anyways, I have done some research and I managed to find a collection of questions that fans have about idols dating. I thought it would be interesting if the two of us answered them. At least, to the best of our abilities.” Kane suggested. “In other words, I’ll be the one answering the questions and you’ll pretend like you have experiences to reflect on.” Ji said. Kane pushed back his seat and stood up quickly, pretending like he was going to attack Ji. Unfortunately, Kane’s headphones were still plugged in, and his cord yanked him back towards the microphone, causing Kane’s whole set up to skew. Ji started laughing hysterically as Kane struggled to adjust his equipment. When the idol was finally settled, he sighed heavily into the microphone.  “Let’s just start the segment already.” 

“Question 1: Is it hard to plan dates when you’re an idol?” Kane posed. 

“Yes and no.” Ji answered. Kane nodded in agreement.  “Like... If the two of us want to go out to eat somewhere, you have to be really careful. I’ve actually heard of some idols like... Renting out a part of the restaurant so they could have some privacy.”  “By ‘some idols’, do you mean yourself?” Kane teased. Ji chuckled. “Nah, I’d never dropped that much money on a date unless if she was like... my wife or something.”   “’Your wife or something’. Lovely wording.” Kane teased. “Who knew you were such a romantic?” “Shut up, you know what I meant. Like a long-term girlfriend. Someone special.” Ji defended himself. “Can I ask how much you have spent on a date?” Kane asked. “Uh...” Ji pivoted his chair back and forth, thinking deeply. “Probably almost 900,000 won?”  “Jesus.” Kane blinked in shock. “I think I’ve spent probably like... almost 300,000 won on a date.” “Wasn’t that what our bill came out to for dinner the other night?” Ji teased. Kane threw his head back and chuckled. “How many times do I have to tell you, Kangdae? Taking the group out for a meal doesn’t count as a date!” Ji slammed his fist onto the table, followed by him pressing a button that signaled a sound affect of someone yelling “Loser!”, which sent Kane into a fit of laughter. 

“We didn’t even fully answer the question,” Kane reeled the conversation back in. “My answer is it’s only hard if you want to go somewhere popular.” Ji finalized. “You have to do a little extra planning if you go that route. Otherwise, at-home dates or dates to unpopular places are pretty easy and can be really fun.”  “I think going to places like the beach or hiking is really simple and easy to plan.” Kane offered.   “Ooh, how sentimental.” Ji said in a high-pitched, teasing voice. 

“Question 2: Do idols actually use Inkigayo sandwiches to flirt?” Ji read the question. 

“Yes.” Kane nodded. “They do.” “Gotten any sandwiches this promotional period, Kangdae?” Ji teased. Kane shook his head. “Unfortunately not.” Kane sighed in disappointment.  “There’s always next comeback. You know,” Ji smirked. “When your trims not so clapped.”  “I hate you.” Kane laughed, smoothing down his bangs. “I really do.” 

“Maybe you should be the sandwich giver.” Ji suggested. “You can be like-” He pressed a button and the sound board, which played a slow, sensual instrumental track.  “Hey girl...” Ji dropped his voice into a greasy drawl, getting close to the microphone. Kane pressed a hand over his eyes in embarrassment, letting out a whiny laugh. “It’s me...” Ji continued. “Bowlcut Boy. Just give me a chance girl, I know level 1 English, and you are, how you say.. Beautiful.”  “Okay, enough, enough! We’re moving on!” Kane said, miming closing a directors slate. 

“Question 3: Have you ever made a move on an idol that you’ve labeled as your ideal type?” Kane read.

“See,” Ji shifted in his seat. “Idols have celebrity crushes in the way that everyone else has celebrity crushes. I think Tiffany Young is beautiful and talented, but I probably would never ask her out.”  “You’d be lucky if Tiffany even looked at you, let alone talk to you.” Kane teased, looking satisfied that he was able to drag his friend after all the heat he’s endured this episode. Ji’s tongue poked his cheek as he nodded and leaned back from the microphone, feigning offense.

“But, no, I think it’s important to highlight to fans that when an idol has an ‘ideal type’, it doesn’t mean that the person or the attributes that they list aren’t like... The be-all-end-all.” Kane stated seriously. Ji nodded in agreement, dropping his act. 

“Right. Ideal types are garbage and don’t mean jack-” Ji used a censor sound effect to punctuate his statement, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Yes, thank you for that, Joongji.” Kane shook his head, reaching for another question. 

“Question 4: How hard is it to meet people as an idol?” Kane asked.

Ji shrugged. “I mean like... Idols meet people everywhere. ISAC is usually the time people start exchanging contact information. Or at like music shows and award ceremonies. Anywhere. Even in our own company. Like makeup artists, stylists, stage crew...” Ji gave Kane a quick, knowing glance. “Photographers-”  “Oop.” Kane’s eyes went wide.  The two of them stared at each other, their lips pressed together in thin lines to prevent themselves from laughing out loud. “Uh, anyway...” Ji tried to carry on, but Kane was laughing too hard. Across from him, the maknae removed his headphones and turned down his microphone volume so he could laugh without ruining the audio.

When Kane came back, he immediately started doing some damage control.  “Sorry, sorry, it’s an inside joke. We’re not attracted to any of our staff members,”  Now it was Ji’s turn to laugh loudly. He started flailing his feet at the huge hint that Kane just gave, knowing damn well that it would soar over their listeners heads. Woodam was going to kill the both of them if he ever played this episode back. 

“Not that we don’t think our staff members aren’t desirable!” Kane joked. “HBH has the best looking staff ever.”  “Alright, this is just getting weird.” Ji shook his hand under his chin, indicating that it was time to wrap things up. “I say we sign off for now.” 

“Vice After Dark will go back to normal airing schedule this week, so be sure to tune in next week when we invite our friend Sunmi on to talk about her upcoming album.” Kane said the usual outro, smiling at the camera.

“Until next week,” Ji raised his hand in farewell. “I’m Ji,” “And I’m Kane,”  “And this has been another episode of Vice After Dark.” Ji concluded the episode. Ji pressed play on his soundboard and their title track played through the speakers as the episode closed out. 

Once they finished recording, Kane gave Ji an anxious look.  “Do you think I should tell Woodam that I almost exposed his relationship or...?” Kane asked. Ji shook his head. “Nah dude. We covered ourselves up decently. No one’s gonna suspect a thing.” 

[writeyouin]

Connor X Reader - Do You Dream? Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Tired

A/N – Here’s hoping that everyone’s doing okay.

Warnings – Minor violence. Minor non-con.

Rating – T

Connor stood alone in the corner of the briefing room, listening to the instructions for the Strike Team. He was relieved that Hank had been chosen to lead the rescue attempt and that he was allowed to be a part of it after disobeying orders. Captain Fowler had told Connor in no uncertain terms that he was going to be punished for his insubordination at the warehouse, after the case was closed. Thankfully, the Captain was just as concerned for you as everybody else was; he at least saw how valuable it was to keep Connor on the force instead of punishing him immediately.

In the sombre meeting, Connor didn’t think he had ever seen the force looking so intense. Even Gavin, who was usually so arrogant, was listening intently with a grim expression on his face. Thanks to Connor’s insubordination, the blueprints to your suspected location were displayed on the projector behind Hank.

“All right,” Hank said, resting his hands on the podium. “Connor and Jenkins will be with me, taking the front entrance.”

Hank pointed to the entrance on the map.

“I want Reed, Martinez & Piotr at the back. Sanchez, Jones, Potts – You’re on the fire escape. As far as the rest of you are concerned, I want you posted outside in case shit hits the fan. You got that?”

There was a chorus of “Yes Lieutenant,” after which Hank excused everyone to gear up for the mission.

Once everyone but Hank and Connor had left the room, Hank put a comforting hand on Connor’s shoulder, “We’ll get her back son.”

“Yeah,” Connor quietly agreed, praying that Hank was right; if he believed for even one second that you were dead, he knew he would stop functioning.

You stared down at yourself in your new outfit, feeling nauseas. The Flayer had given you time to dress in the tiny bathroom, but not in your original clothes. He had provided a blue lingerie cat-suit with slits across the ribs, black thigh high stockings, and a children’s police badge to pin over the strap.

While the outfit was humiliating, you had no choice other than to wear it. After you had been forced to strip to save Connor’s life, the Flayer had stolen your other clothes. So, it was either wear the lingerie or remain in your birthday suit for him to ogle you. As disgraceful as the outfit was, you were actually grateful for it, or rather, you were grateful for the imitation police badge anyway. While the badge was only plastic, the pin was metal.

Carefully, you used the pin on your shock bracelet, attempting to pry some of the wires loose. You hoped there wasn’t some kind of alarm hidden in the bracelet, but there was hardly time to worry about such things. Any day now the Flayer could decide to kill you. After all, he was only waiting for your face to heal so you would be a better fuck when you were dead. He could decide at any minute that it wasn’t worth waiting for and kill you anyway. Besides, even if he did wait for you to heal, he wouldn’t be waiting long. Whatever medication he was giving you was working faster than anything you had taken before. In another week, the light bruising left over from the assault would be completely gone.

You released a shaky breath as you managed to pry a yellow wire off the bracelet. You hoped the Flayer wouldn’t notice that it was missing among the masses of other wires. Although you longed to tear away the rest of the wires, you knew you were running out of time; if you didn’t go back into the cellar, the Flayer would know something was wrong. Besides, you also wanted the element of surprise when you sprung the attack and while he might not notice on missing yellow wire, he would definitely notice if there were no wires left at all.

You pinned the imitation police badge onto your outfit, thinking it might make a good memento mori, should you survive your escape attempt. There was no guarantee that your plan was going to work. The yellow wire might have nothing to do with electrocuting you; if that was the case, then by attacking, you would be signing your own death warrant.

You allowed yourself one more minute to limber up which was refreshing after being tied to a chair for so long. Taking a deep breath, you left the bathroom, ready to fight for your life as soon as the perfect opportunity presented itself. As you stepped out, the Flayer was stood by the door, watching you intensely.

“Aren’t you a wonderful sight,” He praised, licking his lips.

His hand was poised over the watch, ready to electrocute you, should you make any move against him.

“I’m not a fan,” You replied dryly.

“Oh? You have a problem with such a ravishing outfit? It doesn’t make you all hot inside?”

“I just find lingerie to be a funny concept. Why bother getting all dressed up like this if the idea is just to remove the outfit immediately for sex?”

The Flayer laughed hard at that. “Yes, yes, I see your point. If it makes you feel any better, I plan to have you stay in the outfit until the thin veil of death separates us, m’lady, but first, you must play another of my games. Now, present yourself before me,” He gestured to the spot in front of him, careful to keep his hand close to the watch at all times.

Obediently, you did as he commanded, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Very good, m’lady. Now, I want to watch you pleasure yourself. Go on, finger that tight little pussy of yours.”

Your lip drew back in a snarl as you threw yourself angrily at the Flayer. He pressed his finger against the button on his watch, shock painting his face when nothing happened. You let out a banshee-like scream of rage and started a violent assault on your captor. Here was a man who had stalked you, became a figure to fear, beat and humiliated you, and murdered multiple innocent women who you now felt a kinship towards. At your hands, the Flayer would pay, for all of those he had hurt.

Each team of the Strike Force was in position at the warehouse. Connor, Hank and Jenkins took the front entrance, with Connor hacking each of the cameras on the way in. While he would have liked to hack them all at once, it was impossible to do so. The cameras were all on separate relays, leading to various power sources; once again, the Fornication Flayer had proved himself to be a tech genius.

Fortunately, the Flayer was not around to activate the turrets dotted around the building. However, that only added to Connor’s growing list of concerns. If the Flayer wasn’t monitoring the security network, where was he? Connor once again prayed for your safety. He wished he had a gun, should he need it to aid you, but as android laws still wouldn’t change for another few months, Connor would have to rely on his team.

“Back entrance is clear,” Gavin’s voice came from the earpiece.

“Fire escape clear,” Potts added.

“Front is clear,” Hank replied. “Reed, take your team further in to sweep the first floor. Potts, take your team to sweep floor two. We’ll take the underground. Stay in radio contact and for god’s sake, be careful. This isn’t your average criminal.”

Painstakingly slowly, everyone pressed on in their search to find the perpetrator and, with any luck, you. Every room, corner, and doorway were checked. The only sound to break the silence was the occasional “Clear” on the radio, usually followed by an order from Hank.

Finally, it seemed that the search was getting somewhere when Jenkins stumbled into a darkroom. Hundreds of photographs of the Flayer’s victims were pinned to the walls, taken before and after their deaths. The newest photos were in a pile at the end of the table. Connor started flicking through them, hoping to find some sign of your location. There were several pictures of you and Gavin walking to and from his apartment, then a few of you and Hank together. Connor’s hand clenched into a fist, creasing the next picture; it was one of you and him on the park bench when he had kissed you; the shock on your face was palpable. Where was the Flayer that night? Neither of you had seen him, but sure enough, he had been there to photograph one of Connor’s worst memories.

Flicking quickly to the next picture, Connor’s thirium pump seemed to squeeze in nervous anticipation. It was you, beat, bloodied, and unconscious, tied to a chair in a dark cellar.

“Lieutenant,” He beckoned Hank over, showing him the picture.

Hank let out a muted, “Fuck,” but then he saw what Connor had. On the wall behind you was a number. If the picture was anything to go by, you were on floor -5. Hank gave orders to Gavin’s team to meet him in the stairwell.

Unable to wait any longer, Connor slipped away from the others, heading down the stairs. Before he could go any lower, he was tugged back by Hank.

“I gave you an order to wait,” Hank growled.

Connor pulled his arm free of Hank’s grasp, “If it was anyone else-”

“I will not have you running in and getting yourself killed. You hear me? You wait until the others get here or you fall back. Are we clear?”

Before Connor could answer, a woman’s scream came from below. Connor didn’t need permission to go this time as Hank ran downstairs and he followed. When they got to the bottom floor, Hank had his gun trained on the first door they came to. Connor stood to the side of the frame and at Hank’s signal, pushed it open. What they saw made them falter.

Your fists were covered in blood as you beat the man underneath you senseless. It only took a few seconds for the pair to realise that your kidnapper wasn’t getting up any time soon. Connor ran to your side, resting his hands on your shoulders and pulling you away from the man.

“NO!” You screamed, flailing, “I’M GONNA KILL HIM.”

“(Y/N)!” Connor yelled. “IT’S ME, CONNOR. I’VE GOT YOU.”

It took you a few minutes to calm down from the blind rage you had been in. “Connor?” You looked up to the concerned face of your best friend, and then to Hank who was handcuffing the unconscious form of the Flayer.

“You found me,” You whispered.

Connor took his jacket off and wrapped it around you, “We never stopped looking. Come on, we’ll get you out of here.”

“Wait,” You said before Connor could drag you away. You approached the Flayer and removed his watch, explaining that he used it to activate his technology. Shortly thereafter, you gave up any semblance of control to Connor who removed you from your prison as fast as he could.

While Hank’s team took care of the Flayer, you were taken to the hospital for an examination. Although Connor wished to take you back to his home once you were proclaimed physically well, Captain Fowler ordered you back to the precinct for a report. Connor was about to argue but you rested a hand on his shoulder, giving a small, tired smile that somehow managed to reflect only your sadness.

“It’s okay,” You told him. “Let’s just get the statement over with.”

So, with only the lingerie and Connor’s jacket to wear, Connor drove you to the station. Although you were physically and emotionally exhausted, you did your best to explain everything that had happened, from the Flayer’s deception about being Gavin, to the final moments leading up to your rescue. Everything you said was filmed to save you writing the report for a while. You were surprised when Captain Fowler apologised for bringing you in immediately.

“We’re giving you three months paid sabbatical,” He told you, “during which you will be appointed a psychiatrist trained for situations like this, okay?”

It wasn’t really a question and you didn’t bother to argue anyway; if it had been anyone else in your shoes, you would expect them to see a shrink too. “Yes, Captain.”

“Good. Take her home Detective,” Fowler addressed Connor. “And make sure she gets some rest.”

Connor nodded, and led you back to the car, setting off for Hank’s place.

“How are you feeling?” He asked for the first time since seeing you.

In the serenity of the car, you felt safe enough to answer. “I’m- Shit, I don’t know. I’m a lot of things. How about you, Con? How have you been?”

“This isn’t about me (Y/N). I just- I need to know you’re going to be okay.”

“I-” You wanted to tell him that you were in love with him, but with so much going on, you knew it wasn’t the right time. Before you knew it, you started crying. “I’m sorry.”

“What? (Y/N), you have nothing to be sorry for.” Connor pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car.

You shook your head, “You’re wrong. I- I have to say sorry. I’m sorry that I made you worry, I’m sorry that I hurt you, I’m sorry that we argued, I’m sorry I left you to go with Gavin, and I’m sorry I-”

Connor pulled you into a tight hug, cutting you off. You could feel his tears dripping down your neck. “It was my fault,” He whispered. “I chased you away. Don’t apologise when it was me who failed to protect you.”

He might have gone on about how selfish he had felt the night that you had left him, but it didn’t seem to matter. In the silence of the car as the two of you clung onto one another, nothing else mattered.

“Connor,” You said after a few minutes. “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah, okay.”

There was nothing else to say as Connor took you back to Hank’s small house. Sumo, who had been sleeping on the kitchen floor, peeked at you through sleepy eyes. He let out a low whine and lazily wagged his tail against the floor to show that he was happy you were back. After petting him, you looked around dazedly, unsure of what to do next.

“Do you want to sleep?” Connor asked, keeping a close eye on you and monitoring your stress levels.

“Not until I shower,” You said trying to sound more assured than you felt.

“I’ll get you some clothes.”

Although you had taken all of your clothes to Gavin’s, Connor still came back with some of his own pyjamas. Despite the fact that the android didn’t sleep, you had gotten him a few pairs for Christmas, claiming they were good comfort clothes; he usually wore them when night time rolled around.

Connor noticed that you showered silently, and he missed your terrible singing that used to fill the house when you got washed. He always used to make fun of you for it in one of your many games and you would often claim that he was just jealous. Now, there was only the pitter-patter of water to hear, accompanied by the occasional splash.

“I’ve put fresh sheets on Hank’s bed,” Connor told you once you came out of the bathroom. “He won’t mind you sleeping in there tonight.”

Although you knew he was right, a look of panic crossed your face; if your nightmares were bad before the Flayer had caught you, they were only going to be worse now.

“What’s wrong?” Connor asked.

“I’m scared,” You breathed. “I know he won’t come back, but what if-”

Connor drew you into another hug, stroking your hair tenderly, “It’s okay. I promise I won’t let anything else bad happen to you.”

You wrapped your arms around Connor’s slender waist, “Stay with me?”

In a silent agreement, Connor led you to the bed, tucking you in and staying to spoon you. Exhausted from your incarceration, you fell asleep almost instantly, and for the first time since you had gone, Connor allowed himself to go into a much-needed stasis as well.

A few hours later, Hank came back from the police station, feeling his age start to catch up with him. He wasn’t entirely sure that you and Connor would be there, thinking that you might have gone to your own apartment. Padding into his bedroom, Hank stopped short. Seeing you and Connor sleeping together tugged at his heart. He knew about everything that had happened at the park before you went to Gavin’s place.

Sighing heavily, Hank murmured, “Don’t break his heart kid.”

With that, he went to sleep on the sofa, painfully aware that nothing would be the same for a while.

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[the-omni-princess]

Frozen Heart [Chapter 11]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary:  After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)

Warnings: Torture, violence, mentions/suggestions of sexual harassment/assault, language, guilty!Bucky, ANGST

A/N:

this sucks. For a rundown, pm me and I'll spare you the details and give you the things you should know

[Series Masterlist]  [Masterlist]

----

You woke up with a dull pain radiating in your head. You tried reaching towards it, but cold harsh metal stopped the movement, pulling a groan from the back of your throat.

"Looks like the Princess is finally up," a familiar voice said just behind your ear. You shuddered, struggling to open your eyes, knowing it was Rumlow. The past night's events slowly came back to you. Bucky had blood on him. Why did he have blood on him? You hoped it was the assassin sent to keep you in line and that Bucky wasn’t hurt.

"Good, she'll do nicely," a new voice joined in, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes finally responded to your brain, opening them gingerly to take in your surroundings. The first thing you noticed was how little light there was, and that you were chained up in a metal chair which you saw was screwed to the ground. Then you were flooded with light, making you hiss as your eyes struggled to adjust. You finally were able to look up, you took in the face of your newest captor. You swallowed hard, definitely recognizing the face in front of you. Armin Zola. The man who experimented and tortured Bucky. You felt a snarl grow on your lips, your face showing noticing but pure distaste for the man in front of you. "Ah, you know who I am? Do you know what we'll do to you to get what we want?" You took your chances and spit at his feet, growling up at him. Rumlow laughed behind you, a knife suddenly appearing into your eye line. You tensed, watching their every move.

"You see, it's not all about you, Princess despite ruining our original plan, you still fit perfectly into our new plan. We want the power you hold. One accident and you're suddenly Queen of the South, and even if you're not crowned, that baby inside you is the future ruler of the North. Your Lil ole Brother, and your good fuck buddy Bucky, will both be abdicating their thrones, handing them over to Hydra." The knife came closer and you snarled, baring your teeth at the men as they came closer. Eyes watched you from the shadows, and as the man stepped into the light, you realized it was King Pierce, yet another man you despised.

"It's simple dear Princess. If they refuse, we stab one easy knife into that stomach of yours. Two birds, one knife." You felt your heart drop, your dry throat unable to come up with words to express how much you loathed the men in front of your eyes.

"You're making a mistake," you coughed out, locking eyes with the so-called king in front of you.

The knife flew down, stabbing straight through your palm, making you cry out. You bit your tongue hard, desperate not to show these monsters that they can affect you. You tasted bitter copper as you cut your tongue, holding onto the little self-control you had left. "How so, little princess?" Brock was the one to say it, the words makings you grimace.

It was then that you noticed the small red light of a camera in the shadows. They were recording this. Of course, they are. You thought, these monsters wanted to torture your family into submission. You looked dead into the red light, coughing up a laugh, "You underestimate them."

Pierce gave off an odd-sounding chuckle, like a man who knew he had already won. "What? We underestimating their love for you? That's what we want dear Princess," he nodded to Rumlow, who ran the knife across your collarbones, nicking you slightly with a hiss.

You looked up at the men in front of you, giving off a wicked grin. "No. You underestimate their fury."

-

Meanwhile, up in the mountains, Bucky was pacing around the strategy table in the war room. Aurora paced beside him, whining softly as she sensed his distress. Dark circles under his eyes, hands running through his hair for the millionth time, he looked like an utter mess. Everyone else around the table looked virtually the same.

The first thing he had done the second you were gone was trying to run after you. The shattered glass of the door didn’t do anything as he nor Aurora could fit into the steel spaces left by the door, leaving him to watch as they dragged your unconscious body away. Hydra had covered your scent as well as the raging snowstorm so not even the wolves could find you. He then practically ripped open a new one with the guards. Most sung like canaries and it was long until he had every undercover Hydra agent in a line, bruised and bloody, one already dead when his wrath got the best of him.

He wrung his hands, bruises blooming on his right hand, the hand currently gripping onto the constellation necklace he gave you, the one ripped away from you like you were ripped from him. Now, he and the few people left he trusted, were in the war room. A room left unused in over a year, and one of the only rooms left without your little touch of love. He couldn't stand looking at anything you had done to bring life into the castle, he didn't deserve that love. He only deserved the guilt he felt when he would look at the shattered necklace in his hand and the parchment slip beside it. A broken necklace, his broken promise.

The doors to the room flung open, a beaten-up Sam forgoing formality as Steve walked in, followed by only a few trusted advisors and soldiers. Steve was ready to punch Bucky, but one look at his long-time best friend and he knew he couldn't beat him up, the man was already doing it to himself. He sighed, wordlessly pulling Bucky into his arms, acting like a lifeline to a flailing kite in a tornado.

"We'll get her back, Buck, you know she's strong, she can handle them," he spoke softly as if speaking to a wounded animal. Most of the people around the table were a little uneasy at the sight, their Kings breaking down in front of them, broken, afraid. Lost.

"I broke my promise, Stevie," Bucky's voice sounded hoarse, hours of tears being held back hiding just beneath the surface.

"We'll get her back, both of them back," the blonde replied, holding the brunette closer as both started to cry.

Bucky pulled away slightly, shaking his head as he managed to open his hand, right beside his broken necklace was his broken promise. Steve recognized it immediately, the distinct parchment used for special occasions in the South, the piece of paper Bucky borrowed from Steve specifically when he told him he wanted to officially court you.

"You didn't just break my promise, you broke your courtship promise," Nat suddenly spoke, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place.

He nodded, eyes red with tears, cheeks puffy. "’I promise to protect you, love you, and never let anyone harm you. Until the end of the line, until the day my soul no longer exists,’" Steve quoted in a soft voice, the only other person to have seen the writing.

Shuri, who had come in an hour before Steve and was sitting beside her brother, stood, rage in her eyes. "Then let's get her back, she is the strongest woman I know but she cannot survive forever in those Savage's grip," she slammed her hands onto the table, earning the attention of the four Kings around the table. "We need a plan. There are four Kings in this room, why don't you act like it!"

Prince Loki then spoke up, "I have spies in Hydra's Kingdom, they shall report anything to me, especially a kidnapped Princess."

"My forces are closest to the Hydra Borders, they will defend the border and push their men back, as well as join your forces," T'Challa spoke up.

Steve nodded, "This is an act of war against the South, my men are already gathering together to fight. They will be ready by dusk fall tomorrow."

Nat opened her mouth to speak, before Squire Peter ran in. He looked pale, eyes shot, shaking, holding up a flash drive. "This was just found outside the palace gates, right in a spot we could find."

Wanda shot forward, taking the flash drive. On the opposite side was the red symbol of Hydra, making her shudder. "Let's see what they want," she was terrified. The last time the North had seen a flash drive like this, it had came attached with Bucky's arm, a fact not lost by him as he stared the tiny black device down.

He paled as he saw it, pulling himself from Steve's arms. "Play it. Now." His voice cracked, the only emotion visible in the cold face starting to appear once more.

Shaky hands plugged it into a projector, which lit up into the middle of the table, everyone having a front-row seat to what they were doing to you. You sat in some gods-awful metal chair, shivering from the cold, unconscious. Your eyes fluttered, and you reached for your head, only to be stopped by the rusted chains around you. Bucky noticed the dry blood that caked your hair in the exact spot Rumlow had knocked you out, making him start to see red in his vision. Speaking of the dog, his voice rang out just as you groaned softly, "Looks like the Princess is finally up," his face appearing behind yours.

Another voice rang out, "Good, she'll do nicely," and Bucky felt his blood run cold.

"Zola," he mumbled softly, eyes locking onto the image of you in front of him. Steve shuddered beside him, everyone in the room was well aware of what that man has done. Your eyes had finally opened, just for Rumlow to hit the switch behind you, making you hiss as you adjusted to the new light. Once you looked up at the man, you snarled, and Natasha cracked a smile, proud of your courage. "Ah, you know who I am? Do you know what we'll do to you to get what we want?"You spit at his feet, and Bucky felt a sense of pride filled him, that's his girl.

"You see, it's not all about you, Princess despite ruining our original plan, you still fit perfectly into our new plan. We want the power you hold. One accident and you're suddenly Queen of the South, and even if you're not crowned, that baby inside you is the future ruler of the North. Your Lil ole Brother, and your good fuck buddy Bucky, will both be abdicating their thrones, handing them over to Hydra."Both men in question shared a look, letting the realization that they just might actually do it to save you set in. Bucky would do it without hesitation, to him, there was no life worth living without you.

As King Pierce stepped into the camera's view, Bucky's grip on the wooden table tightened, the metal of his hand starting to make the wood creak. His flesh hand gripped the necklace and parchment tighter, feeling his heart fall at the next words spoken. "It's simple dear Princess. If they refuse, we stab one easy knife into that stomach of yours. Two birds, one knife."Shuri looked over towards Bucky, taking note of the fire starting to burn in his eyes. The cold king of the North was looked ready to kill everyone in his path.

As you spoke, Shuri noticed a crack in the King's composure. "You're making a mistake." Steve leaned forward, hanging onto your every word. Wanda visibly paled as they stabbed you, and Natasha could see how hard you were trying to not cry out in pain. Too focused on you, they missed what the men said, only hearing your response. "You underestimate them."

You coughed up blood as you spoke, the trickle of red down your lips made Bucky tense. "What? We underestimating their love for you? That's what we want dear Princess," Steve felt sick, they were using you only as a means to get to them, he visibly winced as you hissed from the next cut on your body.

"No. You underestimate their fury."Your wicked grin made Natasha smile sadly, she knew you'd hold onto whatever you could to save them, and she knew how stubborn you could be when it came to family.

"Let's challenge that," Zola took a step forward, and everyone in the room tensed. The video couldn't be more than a few hours old so whatever they did to you was already done, but they couldn't look away.

Rumlow ran the knife down your side, cutting away the fabric, leaving you in tatters, barely covering your skin. He pressed the knife harder, and you shut your eyes on the screen, visibly shaking as the knife cut into you. This went on for almost twenty minutes, simple cuts and knife jabs, determined to simply tease you and whoever was watching. You bit your tongue, hissing out loud only when Zola stabbed a syringe into your neck. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, as blue liquid dripped out of your nose and eyes and mouth as you passed out. "How long do you think my patience will last before we have our way with the precious princess? Such a shame she's already pregnant, my men would probably love a turn with her," Rumlow knelt, the camera now directly staring into his eyes. "This is only the beginning Barnes. We'll break her, just like we broke you." The screen went black, the room quiet.

The wood splintered around Bucky's hand, shattered as his anger got the best of him. He had a growl building in the back of his throat, deep in his chest. Every knife flick, every word uttered, every second they had you, he felt his fury grow. He knew, without a doubt, he would kill them for even thinking they could touch you.

-

It was a week. At least you think it was a week. Time was hard to tell when you weren't able to move from your cell, which was dark, cramp, damp, and had no windows. They would tie you down and force an IV into you every few days, barley keeping you alive. A bucket in the corner was the only place to relieve yourself, and as the days went on, you started using your own pajamas as bandages for your major wounds. Two stab wounds, multiple cuts, and scrapes, your wounds weren't as terrible as you thought they would be. You knew you had the beginnings of a concussion, having seen similar symptoms in others before, but what worried you was the electric blue liquid they pumped into your veins. It made your veins burn, like a fire coursed through them. It kept you weak and dazed, and to your displeasure, they would pump it into you every other day. Of course, you were bothered by the pain of it, but your instincts only flooded to one thing. Protect. Protect the baby inside you and protect the man they could have grabbed instead. You figured they needed the baby in you to have a claim to the North, so they wouldn't hurt it. But your nutrients were dwindling, everything you had was being sucked up by the life growing in you. You wouldn't be able to fight back soon enough.

As time went on, they tortured you more. One sharp punch to the face and you think you had a black eye. You knew they were recording every time they strapped you to that chair. You only clung to the thought of Bucky one day coming through that door, ending the misery you were in. You clung to your family, your parents who always had the best intentions yet we're a little confused as to how to act upon it. Natasha, Wanda, Sam, even Tony, and Clint. Your brother, who was probably getting ready to fight all of Hydra by himself. And then, Bucky. Your Bucky. That's the thought that made you smile. How angelic he looked in the early morning, hair mused, body calm, peaceful. His giddy smile when you accepted the conch shell from him, you smiling back when you placed it on his desk. His dorky smile when Aurora and Rainecurled up against you one night by the fire. His groans as you tugged on his hair playfully. The charming smile you could see in the mirror as he learned how to braid your hair with the metal hand. Lounging and naming stars with your own goofy nicknames just to hear him laugh. Yeah, you thought. Him. You'd cling onto him. Your own Northern Star.

-

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[imhereforbvcky]

Watch Me Run - Part 12

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage  -  Part 13

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader) Chapter: Needing a sense of security, you ask Bucky to help you prepare to defend yourself against the worst case scenario. Loki grows frustrated with tactical.

Warnings: Murdery violence! Loki at his worst, soz. Swearing, as per usz.

Word Count: 2985

A/N: We’re moving a little! Bucket and the reader don’t know that... well okay nobody knows it yet. Except for me. 😁

Page after page of nothing flashed over the grainy screen. An inquisitive porcupine, several returning deer, and what Bucky guessed were passing birds, too quick for the trail cam to catch. These were the only things to interrupt the sea of trees. He thumbed through shot after shot, carefully examining each one, just to be sure. It had been weeks of the same.

“This isn’t a very exciting movie,” you teased, hovering over his shoulder.

He smirked, but didn’t respond, clicking over to the next image.

“I don’t see anything,” you complained.

“Probably a bird.”

“Or a bear!” you clapped your hands excitedly. “Are there polar bears up here? Maybe you just can’t see him!”

“I’d see him.”

“Somebody’s sure of himself.”

“I was a sniper,” he leveled you with a look half bored, half offended. “I think I could spot an eight hundred pound animal.”

“Then why are we eating re-hydrated beef out of a bag?” You held your sleeve of beef stroganoff, designed for backpackers, toward him with a challenging smirk.

“Because it’s too early in the season to shoot anything but rabbits.” He snatched the sleeve out of your hands and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. “And they’re not worth the energy.”

“But it could be something to do!” you protested, “And useful! One less trip into town where we could be spotted.”

He only sighed, handing you back the sleeve of stroganoff before returning to the trail cam. You’d had this argument before. Many times. You had begged him to let you practice shooting with his weapons, to get comfortable with them, just in case. He had firmly denied your request, every time.

“Come on!” you begged. “We have nothing else to do, and it’ll be good for me to practice.”

“No.” His answer was definitive.

But you were persistent.

“Please, it will make me feel safer.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“No, you’ve steam-rolled me about this.” You dropped the bag of noodles on the table and pushed closed fists into your hips.

If he weren’t so serious about this topic, he might’ve laughed. You reminded him so much of Steve sometimes. Small and stubborn. Passionate and compassionate.

“Alright,” he set the camera down and turned to face you, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped in front of him. “Talk.” He had no intention of changing his mind. But if you needed to talk it out… again… maybe this time it would stick.

That surprised you. Your head tipped, and your chin lifted. A small victory, or so you thought, so you dropped into the nearest chair, dragging it close, until your knees nearly touched.

“I feel vulnerable out here.”

“You’re not. I told you, you’re safe. How many times—“

“I know,” you placed a hand on his clasped pair. “I know you’re good at this. I’m not questioning that. It’s just… I had to give up everything. I’m out of my element, here. The one thing I do have,” you placed a hand over the talisman hanging at your chest, “Is just as confusing and frightening to me as it is helpful.”

Bucky listened. He hadn’t expected to be swayed, but this… he could understand. Even if the outcome couldn’t change.

“You’re always saying how the escape plan could save me. Being prepared, having control, right? It’s so important to you?” you pushed, begging him to understand. “Well I feel very, very out of control here.”

Bucky leaned back, a frown creasing his face. “I’m sorry. I hear you, but it’s still not a good idea. The answer’s no.”

“You have the ability to give me some power over this situation. Don’t you feel… I don’t know, morally obligated to help me?”

He sighed deeply and shook his head. “Not everyone is as bound to their compassion as you are.”

“The world would be a lot nicer place if they were,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and flopping back in your chair.

“The world is not a nice place.”

“Come on,” you begged. “You brought all those weapons, just show me one! What if something goes wrong and—“

“It won’t.”

Your head dropped to the side with a frown. “Bucky. You can’t plan for everything. There’s a difference between being prepared and being a control freak. That difference is called denial.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I’m in control here. I’ve brought every weapon I think I’ll need to keep you safe and I won’t turn you into one of them just to make you feel better.” Bucky had gone from listening but firm, to deadly serious. “If anyone comes for you, they’ll be well-trained. Years of it. Training you to shoot would be… false confidence. Irresponsible.”

“Okay,” you nodded, relenting under the intensity of his command and wilting slightly with the reality of your peril. “I got it.”

“Your only job is to get the hell out of here, do you understand? I can’t have you second guessing that plan just because you can hold a revolver.”

“I said I got it,” you grumbled, springing from your chair and storming to the porch for air.

Bucky’s head dropped into his hands and he shoved them deep into his hair once you’d left the cabin. He could still see you through the window, kicking at weeds as you made your way over to the pile of firewood.

If he didn’t feel like such an ass, he might’ve laughed at the sight of you. Your frustration was futile against his will, but he heard it with empathy, nonetheless. The little ax stuck in the first log you’d struck while trying to break off kindling to blow off steam. The jerky imprecision told him your actions were more frustration than actual concern for the fire supply.

He knew he shouldn’t have snapped like that. He’d meant every word, but he hadn’t meant to anger you like this, to seem insensitive. It was just that he’d begun to break protocol in ways he couldn’t seem to get a handle on. There was a nearly imperceptible shift, a softening in the way he regarded you. Hell, even the fact that he was second guessing the conversation stood as clear evidence of that.

It made him want to dig his heels in wherever he could. None of it helped.

In any other circumstance, it wouldn’t matter. But this was a mission, an assignment. And he had a clear path. Only, it was getting harder and harder to think of you driving away. Yet if it came down to it, he needed you to do just that. Or worse.

“Damn it,” he cursed, shoving to his feet.

Nothing good could come of this. Nothing.

The logical, successful fugitive part of his brain told him it was better if you were afraid. It meant you would be more aware, you would follow the plan, you would run. But another part knew it wasn’t fair to keep you vulnerable and constantly fearful. The latter won out because there was a voice in his head that kept reminding him that he didn’t want you to fear one good god damn thing.

The longer he stayed in that cabin, watching you flail around with an axe stuck into a log, the louder that voice grew. When he caught himself smiling, a chuckle just punching out of his lungs, he decided.

He swept out the door with a shotgun in hand and a determined frown on his lips.

“Let’s go.”

The hundred year old brick trembled beneath the growing strength of the energy blistering from the blue mineral at the center of the long silver scepter.  Slender fingers tightened around the cool metal as a snarl rippled up Loki’s throat. One sharp and aimless slash of the scepter diagonally before his body and the wall before him gave way in a ripple of blue energy.

The soft whisper of paper over the dirtied, hard wood floor drew Loki’s attention. And his anger.

“How many more?” he demanded, glaring over his shoulder at the woman trembling in the doorway.

Wide eyes roved over the mess Loki had made of the house, wild with terror and watery with regret. Her mouth hung open, while her chin trembled. If not for the shock, she would have been wise enough to answer.

“HOW MANY MORE?!” This time his voice was like an avalanche, a rumble that built as loud as thunder, tone as sharp as ice and just as cold. As he shouted he struck the base of the scepter against the floor and a wave of blue energy snapped out in a plane across the house. It creaked and groaned under the force, in the same way a frozen lake snaps and buckles in springtime.

“Th-this was the last one.” The engineer trembled as dry-wall dust fell around her, and the mortar cracked overhead. The entire house and everything in it trembled under his rage.

Loki took a slow deep breath in through his nose, face rising away from the puppet who’d failed him. The shimmering blue had left her eyes, his control relinquished when he realized this was the final dead end. Now composed, he stepped toward her with a deadly calm and a dangerously slow pace. Anger would not serve him here, not anymore.

“The last one,” he echoed her words, reaching for the badge clipped to her belt on a retractable coil. “And they’re not here.”

She shook her head, watching, unable to speak. Her breath came in sharp, frantic puffs while he drew the small clear plastic card closer, examining the bright red lettering. Stark Industries.

“And you’re sure your code was successful?” his tone was gentle, almost soothing. It did nothing to calm her.

She swallowed thickly before answering. “Y-yes. These are all the safe houses in Avengers’ possession. And SHIELD’s. And anything that was even mentioned on the Stark Industries servers.”

“And yet,” he raised a flattened palm, glancing around the room. “Empty.”

“I did everything I could,” she breathed, stumbling half a step back. “Everything you asked.”

“I know,” he smiled. The venom flashed in his eyes and soured his grin to a sinister bite. It made the woman’s stomach churn. “But you’ve failed. And now, you have no use to me. Worse yet, you’ve become a liability.”

Before she could even inhale a breath in protest, Loki conjured a long slender dagger, spun it quickly in his fist and plunged it with inhuman force deep between bone. He had struck quickly and precisely, with enough force to break through the cartilage of her rib-cage and dive straight into the sinewy muscles of her heart.

The engineer blinked down at the blade protruding from her chest. It wasn’t until he withdrew the darkened knife that she gasped, gurgling and wet, choking on death itself before it swiftly claimed her.

Loki was cunning and patient, but he was also a warrior. And when his patience ran thin, he knew where to strike. He’d hoped with a swift strike, he could avoid an all-out war with Midguard and its Avengers. That no longer seemed possible.

With a sharp sigh and a scowl on his lips, Loki took one last glance at the rubble before he set off, once more, for the heart of his operation.

“Bullseye!” you shouted. “That was a bullseye, right?”

Bucky could hear the smile in your voice. He could feel it on him like a warm candle in the cold northern air.

“High,” he answered, a grin of his own turning his lips, his eyes still pressed to the binoculars.

“What! No way. Lemme see!”

“Is the safety on?” His tone a clear warning that he knew it wasn’t.

You flipped the small notch and turned to him again. “Is now! Let’s see!”

He chuckled and handed the binoculars over. You pressed a clumsy hand against your hair, pushing it out of the way. It fell right back into place. Without thinking, Bucky reached forward and held a strand back just as you swept the binoculars into place.

First, he wondered if you’d noticed. Second he wondered why the hell he’d done it. Third, he wondered, when it had become so easy to reach out like this. At what point had he become so damn comfortable that it seemed normal to touch your hair or brush your cheek?

It suddenly felt too intimate, and he retracted his hand, nearly took a step back. Your head swiveled at the motion, just a fraction, and he flushed with regret. Whether he regretted the touch or the withdrawal, he couldn’t say.

“It’s the gun,” you decided. “It’s gotta be a hundred years old.”

“That weapon is in perfect condition.” He held his hands out for the binoculars, with an open palm. In it, he held a new round. An even exchange. “Try again. Aim for the bottom of the second ring this time.”

You took the ammunition and sighed, turning the weapon sideways to load it. Like every time, you mentally walked yourself through each of Bucky’s instructions.

“This is a single barrel shotgun,” he’d explained days before. “You need to load it every time you shoot.”

You’d nodded, trying to absorb every detail he shared.

“We’re using slugs for practice because I want you to focus on aim,” he’d reached into his pocket and showed you the thick green casing, tipped by what looked to you like a huge rounded bullet.

Another nod. “’Kay.”

He’d shoved the slug back in his pocket and reached into another. “But if you have to use this on somebody to protect yourself,” he turned out a bright red shell this time. “I want you to use buck shot.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry and tight.

“You’re gonna be nervous and full of adrenaline,” he’d explained. “I don’t expect you to be a marksman, and this’ll get the job done. If it doesn’t kill ‘em, it’ll sure as hell slow ‘em down. Understand?”

You’d taken a shaky breath then and nodded, eyes on the shot in his hand and trying not to imagine too vividly the bloody array it signified. “Red for trouble. Got it.”

Now though, you gently, steadily pushed the forest green slug into the oblong slot on the gun. These unfamiliar motions of violence were becoming easier by the day. But then again, you were only shooting at paper.

“This time I’ll hit it.” You grinned up at Bucky, half a taunt on your lips as you gripped the pump and pulled. The unmistakable swoosh-kerchunk alerted you both that you’d loaded and cocked the weapon properly.

“It’s loaded now,” Bucky had explained to you the first time ‘round.

“It sounds like a movie,” you’d whispered. Half awe, half horror.

“This is not a movie,” he’d been quick to contradict.

“I know.”

“It’s not a game or a dream,” sharp grey eyes bore down on you. “That is the international ‘back the fuck up’ sound. You load this weapon, you’d better be ready to fire it.”

You couldn’t have helped laughing if you’d wanted to. You’d been so high strung, and it was just too much.

“That was very dramatic.”

He’d merely shrugged. “Few sounds will light a fire under someone’s ass quicker than a pump-action shotgun. One way or another.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You are such a soldier.” There was a scowl in your eyes but a smirk on your lips. Teasing, but truthful. “You gonna make me do push-ups next?”

He’d chuckled, but shook his head. He looked serious and a little sad when he looked down at you again. “You asked me to teach you to shoot so you’d feel ready to defend yourself. Drawing a gun takes a conversation in exactly one direction. You need to be prepared for that. If it comes down to you loading that weapon while we’re here, you shoot to kill. And then you run.”

Run. That was still your best shot if things went south. Turn your back and run.

You hated it. For all the power you held in your hands, deadly and loud, you still felt powerless in a battle of gods.

This time, after days of practice, you did as Bucky said and aligned your aim just low of the center ring. It felt odd, to aim off-target, but you trusted him.

Just like he’d instructed, you gently squeezed the trigger on a smoothly released breath. Your shoulder ached now from the repeated buck of the stock against the blast.

“Better,” Bucky praised, lowering the binoculars and offering them to you. This time, you remembered the safety.

“Ish,” you complained.

He chuckled. “Hit the paper this time.”

“Is that going to be good enough?”

His smile froze for a fraction of a second before it faded. The storm returned to the grey of his eyes.

He gave a sharp nod to the binoculars in your hand before withdrawing a handful of slugs. You watched him for too long. Before you could think to raise the binoculars he’d pushed a slug into the slot and braced the rifle to his shoulder.

One round.

You got the hint and put the binoculars to your eyes to look down the make-shift range. Upper left corner.

“Ha!” you taunted, but he’d already reloaded. “Told you the gun’s no good.”

Two. Dead center.

Oh.

Three. Bottom right.

Four. Upper right.

“Okay, I get it.” You rolled your eyes.

Five. Dead center. The shot lay so tight over his second that you could barely tell the paper had been blown open wider. Just barely.

Six. Bottom left. A perfect X fired into the paper.

You threw up your hands in defeat. “Fine, you win. Gun’s fine. I’m not a good shot.”

He carefully set the shotgun down and looked to you with that unwavering certainty that nearly had you believing everything would all be alright. “You don’t have to be.”

Part 13 >>

[rachel1987]

GWCFT Part 4

Hold onto your hats! June has arrived in town and Hare might faint if she does just one more white glove test. Hatter tries to hold things together during the tea party and the Tweedles are up to something...

xposted on ao3 and FF.net

Part 4:

Hatter made his way to his Hat house quickly, getting all the kettles on the burners in his kitchen before emptying the pink boxes of desserts he had purchased. He had loaded up his arms and made his way through the OUT door when someone made their way through the IN door.

"Mr Hatter? Can I help you with anything?"

"Oh, Alice!" Hatter heaved, seeing her follow him through the OUT door. "Yes, grab some of the sandwiches from the kitchen and bring them out! I'm not used to setting up tea parties without the Hare's help."

Alice nodded and went back through the IN door, leaving the Hatter to empty his arms out onto the table. He tried his best to make the setting look as nice as possible, knowing June would inspect every little thing to make sure it was in order. He was filling the sugar bowls with little cubes in the shapes of carrots when Alice appeared next to him.

"What is Mr Hare's mother like?" Alice asked as she placed little finger sandwiches on pink and purple platters. She looked in surprise as the Dormouse peeked out from around a teacup, eyeing the food she was putting out. Wordlessly, she handed him a cucumber sandwich and he zoomed back to his teapot.

"She looks just like the Hare," Hatter shivered. "Only in a dress."

"No," Alice laughed. "I mean, is she nice? What did she say when you met her?"

"Oh…" Hatter shrugged. "I suppose so." He was more focused on setting the table up right, not too overcrowded but not too empty either. He kept switching teacups and saucers around, ignoring the sounds of the kettles whistling from inside, as well as Alice's inquiries. He also kept swatting the Dormouse away from the food. It seemed the little guy wanted to horde away everything they were setting out.

"Mr Hatter…" Alice looked at him with a confused expression. "Is everything alright? You seem tense."

Hatter shook his head and leaned his lip on the table. "Oh, Alice… Hare's got me all worried about his mother. We have to make sure everything goes well tonight. She expects perfection from him and he's worried about what she'll think. And I can't show him that I'm nervous too because it'll make him more upset."

"Oh, I see…" Alice nodded. "Sometimes my Mom expects things out of me like that too. All you can do is your best. I'm sure she'll love you, everyone does."

"Thank you, Alice," Hatter sighed, tearing himself away to rush into the house, returning with two kettles and filling up the numerous tea pots scattered around the long table. Alice followed along, helping out here and there where she could.

It wasn't long before the other guests started arriving at the party.

First the Tweedles came through the gate, Dum holding a camera and Dee a pad and pencil, both in their editor hats.

"We're covering the party for the Wonderland Bee!" Dum announced. "It's going to be on our front page for tomorrow."

"We already have our headline," Dee nodded. "Meet the Harent! Hare's mother visit's Wonderland!"

Hatter considered this for a few moments, before deciding he'd allow it. "Well… alright. Just make sure you only get my good side," he said, turning to the right, a finger on his chin, and giving them a smarmy smile. The Tweedles looked at each other and blinked, before Dum snapped a photo.

"Who's taking photographs that aren't of me?" came a billowing voice from the gate. The three men turned to see the Queen gracing everyone with her presence, Rabbit following behind holding a bouquet of red roses.

"For the Hare's mother," Rabbit offered, handing the vase to Alice, who put them in a place of prominence on the tea table. The Dormouse had his head out of his teapot, nibbling on a slice of cheese from one of the sandwiches, and gave the flowers a sniff.

"That's very kind of Her Majesty," Hatter commended, a tilt of his cap.

The Queen beamed at the attention and waved her hand in a sense of false modesty, rings sparkling in the sunlight. "Oh, it was nothing," she laughed.

"Literally," Rabbit muttered to Alice. "I'm the one who had to root through the garden to pick them."

The Queen shot him a look and he gave her a nervous smile, fiddling his fingers at his bow tie as he led her to her chair at the table.

"Who else still needs to get here?" Alice asked the Hatter, who kept glancing at the gate for the Hare and his mother. He was getting nervous again, but he was doing his best to hide it.

"Is everyone waiting for me?" the Caterpillar droned as he, somehow, moved his way through the opening in the gate. His legs were working hard, moving his impressive size slowly to the table.

"I think they're waiting for both of usss," came the Cheshire Cat's voice from the tea table. The Cat was pursuing the buffet, eyeing all the snacks, trying to decide which one he was going to eat first.

"Nooo," Hatter furrowed his brow, watching everyone get settled at their places. "We're waiting for the Hare and his mother, thank you very much."

Hatter let everyone get settled, watching as they helped themselves to tea and crumpets. He kept glancing at his pocket watch, then back at the fence, then back at his watch again. The conversation was growing a little, so Hatter took the moment to speak to all his friends before the guests of honor appeared.

Clinking a spoon on a purple tea cup, he called everyone to attention.

"I'd like to thank everyone for coming to this special dinner tea party that the Hare and I are throwing," Hatter started, using his most professional voice. "Before the Hare and his mother show up I'd like to say a couple words."

"Can we start eeeating or do we have to wait for the Harrrrre to come?" came a disembodied voice. Cheshire Cat kept fading in and out so much none of them were sure he had actually stayed or had left for the night.

"Do what you want, Cat," Hatter sighed, not even bothering to look for the source of the voice. "You have no master."

"Darn right!" the Cat said, letting out a cackle before a number of pastries poofed from the platters and into obscurity.

"What is it, Hatter? My tea is getting cold!"

"Sorry your Majesty," the Hatter tapped the brim of his hat nervously, taking a sip from his tea to wet his whistle before continuing. He was already considering opening one of the bottles of wine to calm his nerves and also to get the Queen to take it easy. "The Hare's mother is expecting everything to be very orderly at this party, so we need to keep things under control. So this is going to be different from my usual shindigs. We need to keep things jovial, but not too jovial, not too crazy and certainly not mad. Am I making myself clear?"

"No, actually," the Rabbit shook his head, his ears flopping. "You're telling us to behave ourselves when you're the one who-"

"That's beside the point, Rabbit, hush!" He put a finger out and held it in front of Rabbit's face to shush him. He got to his feet and took a step onto the tabletop, looking down at everyone. "Point is, no throwing china.." he said as he picked up a cup and saucer, "or food at this party" he added, picking up a pastry from a platter. "And certainly no getting up on the table." As he finished, he tossed the cup, saucer and pastry over his shoulder, hearing them clamor as they hit the ground. "You know, table manners are very important things to remember while at a dinner tea party!"

Suddenly, and without warning, the Hatter started tapping his toe on the table and a cane was thrown to him from somewhere stage left. All the Wonderlandians looked at each other and picked up their tea cups, scooting back a little from the table, giving the Hatter room to move. Alice passed both the Dormouse's teapot and the vase of roses to the Caterpillar for safekeeping while the Hatter performed.

Crooning jazz music started and the Hatter flailed his legs around in what might have been an attempt at a tap dancing routine, swinging the cane around wildly and singing about the importance of good table manners. The cups and saucers clanked around as the table shook, though none of them fell to the ground somehow. He walked up and down the lengthy table, dodging platters of food and sweets with nimble feet, none of them being disturbed. He swayed and stumbled around on his toes, causing some of his friends to reach out in fear to try to help him, but he never fell or managed to move a single setting on the tabletop. And, as suddenly as it started (about a minute later), the music stopped, leaving Hatter standing where the roses had originally been, tossing the cane over his shoulder and onto the roof of his Hat house.

There was a cough from the gate and Hare stood there, a look of absolute horror on his mug. Beside him was his mother, dolled up in her best tea dress and gloves, looking at the Hatter with a confused expression. There was a sudden flash from a camera, followed by the chuckles of both Dee and Dum.

"Hare! June!" the Hatter greeted them, taking a bounding leap from the table and striding to the gate, holding it open for his special guests. Alice moved when he bounced off the table, replacing the roses and the Dormouse's teapot in their original positions. "So nice of you both to join us. Welcome to my home!"

"Hatter, what are you doing?" Hare hissed, eyes darting around in anger. "Were you singing and dancing about the importance of table manners again?"

"And doing it while on that table?" June added, giving him a once over again as if her first inspection of him had yielded incorrect results.

"Oh, well…" the Hatter laughed nervously, tapping his top hat as he thought to himself. "Just a party trick, nothing to worry about," was all he managed before Alice swooped in to rescue him.

"Hello, Mrs Hare! My name is Alice, it's lovely to meet you!" she said, giving her best curtsy. Everyone awed and even the Queen was impressed, telling everyone how she had taught her that.

June was, of course, very pleased by Alice's manners and had gotten completely sidetracked. "How kind of you, Alice!" she squealed, balling her hands up together. The girl lead June to the tea table, leaving the Hare to give Hatter a warning glance, muttering about how they hadn't done a song and dance number this whole way through and how it was rude of him to do one without him, before following them to start introductions. They made their way to Hare's usual spot, pulling the chair next to it out for his mother to take a seat. He then took the place on her right, Alice taking the spot on her left.

"Well, now that that's out of the way…" Hatter chuckled nervously, clearing his throat a little as he picked up the kettle to his left. "Who would like a top up?"

Tea was served and the food was passed around the table, everyone filling their plates at least twice. Hare introduced his mother to everyone and she seemed quite taken by all of them. There was a slight glimmer in her eye as she reached a lace glove out to Rabbit, nobody seemed to notice it but him. He gulped and snickered nervously after kissing her hand, resisting the urge to wipe his mouth off in her presence. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the thought of Hare in a dress out of his mind when he looked at her.

After everyone had eaten a little and the kettles had been taken into the kitchen to be refilled, they decided to open the wine and conversation started.

"Hi, Mrs Hare," Dee said as he shook June's hand, squeezing between her and Hare. "I"m Dee and this is my brother Dum and we're from the Wonderland Bee."

"We'd like to ask you a few questions for the paper," Dum added, after taking a photo of her at the table.

June was completely delighted and looked at her son with eyes that swelled with pride. "How exciting! Of course! Ask me anything you'd like!"

"Great!" Dee smiled, taking out his pad of paper and a pencil, licking the tip as he looked at the Hare while he spoke. "First question: what pet names did you have for the Hare while he was growing up?"

Hare furrowed his brow and he shot the Tweedles an angry glare, while the Hatter leaned in to hear June's answer.

"He had so many! I was always coming up with names for my little Marchie. Let's see..." June's eyes scrunched up as she gazed off, trying to remember. "When he was a baby I called him Bubba Boy, because he'd always laugh when he made bubbles in the bath. Then there was Angel Voice, when he started singing. Have you heard my boy's voice? He always got the solos at the church recitals. And Baby Face because of his pinchable little round cheeks…"

Dee and Dum snickered as they wrote notes down, shooting glances at Hare every so often to see his face getting a deeper shade of red.

He sat through a few more questions, feeling sick to his stomach that his mother was actually answering them. She covered his weird Liberace obsession with when he was six, the time he locked himself in two separate closets in the same day and the time he got lost in the shopping mall and security had to lock the whole place down in order to find him.

"And they found him asleep face down in a planter under a purple fountain grass plant, his little bum in the air," June beamed, looking at her son with complete adoration. Hatter was listening to all of his, his elbow leaning on the table and his chin resting on his hand.

"One more question, June," Dum said, scribbling on his pad. "If you had to make a guess about what the Hare's most embarrassing moment in his life was, what would it be?"

"And if you can't think of just one, you can give us a couple," Dee added quickly, waiting excitedly for the answer, pencil at the ready.

Hare's jaw dropped and his fingers flexed, reaching out to stop his mother from answering. Alice stepped in before he could do anything too embarrassing.

"What was Mr Hare like when he was young, Mrs Hare?" Alice asked politely before taking a bite from a fluffy cream filled pastry.

"Yes, do tell…" Rabbit asked with a snicker. He had already finished his first glass of wine and was more than halfway through his second, so he was looking a little tipsy.

"He was an absolute delight," June grinned, taking a sip from her tea. "You wouldn't want to see pictures, would you?"

"Oh, yes please!" Alice clapped her hands and sat up, excited.

"Oh, Mom, you don't have-" Hare tried, only to be cut off by the Hatter.

"I'd love to see them too!"

Hare covered his eyes as June reached into her purse and took out a small album packed full of photos of a very young Hare. Every yearbook picture, birthday and occasion was documented inside. June removed a number of snapshots and passed them around the group, making Hare cringe. If he could, he would have crawled into the Dormouse's teapot and not come out.

"This one is cute," Hatter remarked, showing Hare a photo of himself with a very round face and glasses that were far too large for him. He had a crooked grin and was sitting in a sandbox next to what must have been a mud pie and had pink bandaids on his knees. He also had a rubber chicken wearing a party hat sitting in the sand next to him. "You were a fan of chickens even then."

"Oh, I love this one!" Hare's mother grinned. "Hare's first bath!"

"Ooh!" Dee reached out, taking the photo from June. "This would be great for the front page! Don't you think so, Dum?"

Dum snorted as the brothers looked at the photo, trying to hide their laughter behind their hands.

"I have an excellent idea!" Hare squealed out at the top of his lungs, nose twitching as he ran around the table and grabbed the photos out of everyone's hand. "Let's change the subject!" Dee held his photo out above his head, making Hare jump for it. He had to climb on the table in order to reach it.

"Your Majesty," Hatter offered as a distraction. "Why don't you tell us all about the, uh… plans for your next fashion show! I'm sure June probably caught your last one on television."

"Oh, yes! Well, ha ha… I didn't plan on doing another fashion line after that last one," the Queen admitted, swirling her wine around in her glass as she spoke. She had been growing tired of all the Hare talk and was desperate to get the attention back to herself. "But once the fashion bug bites you, it's hard not to create."

"I've always disliked bugs," June admitted. "Especially mosquitoes."

"It isn't really a bug, Mrs Hare," Alice explained. "That's just a saying."

"Oh… right," June replied, blushing a little at her ignorance, helping herself to some more tea. "So, your Majesty, has my son been a dutiful subject? Has he been helpful in making the kingdom a more pleasant place?"

"Helpful?" The Queen questioned, giggling a little as she gazed across the table at June. "Oh, he's been a help alright. A helpful pain in my-"

June grinned and looked at her son, reaching out and giving his arm a squeeze before turning back to the Queen. "You know, when I heard that you had saved him from that quicksand, I couldn't stand idly by and let him not fulfill our family duty. I insisted that he stand by your side until he could do a good deed for you as repayment. And it was lucky, because you nearly were swallowed up by quicksand as well. So, in a way, I saved your life that day too."

The Queen stared back at June with a look of total confusion. Maybe the wine was going to her head, but she really didn't know what to say in response to such an outrageous statement.

"And I was thinking," June said, adding a cube of sugar to her tea and stirring it. "For everything that Hare did for you that day, I feel that he should have gotten more recognition. Maybe a plaque or an award or something. Or a proclamation at the very least."

The Queen's eyes looked like they were going to bust from their sockets. The Hare chuckled nervously. "No, your Majesty… Mom, there isn't any need for any of that. It's enough to do a good deed, that's all. I don't need any recognition for it."

"And our Queen thanked you," Rabbit butted in, putting a hand on the Queen's arm to distract her, refilling her glass of wine to the top. "I believe we all sang a song about it, if I remember correctly…"

"All the same, Hare, you did a very noble thing that day and I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom…" Hare blushed a little, waving her away. "But it was really nothing. Really."

--

The tea party continued and the food was gobbled up. After a while, the attendants slowly made their way home. Alice left because she had to get back before her parents noticed she was missing, Caterpillar had to leave because it would take him so long to journey all the way home and Rabbit practically had to carry the Queen away because of all the wine she'd ingested. Dee and Dum were kind enough to offer to help them back to the palace. Nobody knew when the Cat left the party, but he was long gone as well and the sound of snoring could be heard from deep within the purple teapot on the table.

"Well, that was nice," June said from her seat, a smile on her face. The sun had gone down and the courtyard was lit up with little round string lights and lanterns that filled the area with atmosphere. The energy of the night had slowed down and you could hear the sound of the evening off in the distance.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" Hatter said, very proud that the party had gone over so well. Everyone had had a good time and nobody had done anything that had caused Hare to pass out from embarrassment.

Hare returned from the Hat house, holding a pot of coffee and two mugs. He had managed to sneak away and brew a pot without the Hatter noticing. "Here you go, Mom," he said absently, pouring the brown liquid into a mug with pink flowers on it. He added cream and sugar to it, just the way she liked it, leaving it a caramel color before passing it to her.

"Thank you, son," she smiled, blowing on it before taking a sip. The travel and excitement of the day was starting to show on her and she was looking a little tired.

Hare turned and offered some of the coffee to Hatter, who declined with the wave of a hand, not to much surprise. He was still working on his last kettle of warm tea and wasn't much of a fan of coffee anyway. Hare took a seat between the two of them, pouring himself half a mug of coffee, feeling Hatter's eyes on him the entire time. He was looking a little more calm now, though that might have been because he was getting sleepy from all the stress of the day.

"So, June, we didn't get much of a chance to talk at the train station. Or the tea party for that matter…" Hatter said with a chuckle and soft smile. "How was your trip?"

"It was relaxing," she nodded, ears bouncing a little. "I don't get to travel much, so a lot of it was new to me. Very exciting."

"And what did you think of the party?" Hater asked, looking at her over the rim of his cup as he drank. Hare could see that Hatter was really putting on the charm and it made him smile a little. He wanted to reach a hand out and touch him but decided against it, with his mother right beside them.

"It was lovely. Thank you for going through all the trouble, it was really marvelous. The food, the tea and the company," June kept her posture straight and upright, like she had spent hours of her life on a church bench. She was rather prim and proper, but Hatter couldn't help noticing a little bit of a goofy streak that he saw in Hare often. Or maybe it was because they just reminded him so much of each other. "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun."

"Well, that's nice," he replied, filling his cup up with the last of the tea from the pot. "And it really wasn't any bother. It was a pleasure being able to throw this party in your honor."

Hare slid a little jar in the Hatter's direction as he took a sip from his coffee. "Honey?" he offered.

"What is it, Darling?" Hatter asked, who was clearly looking down into his tea cup and not paying attention to the Hare's actions.

There was a clatter and a groan and Hare was brushing coffee off his shirt, June tisking. "I meant for your tea, Hatter…" he grumbled through clenched teeth.

"Baking soda will get that out, dear," June said, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.

"I know, Mom…" he muttered. "I'll be right back."

He left the two of them alone, the soft snoring of the Dormouse filling the vacant space.

"So, Hatter, tell me about yourself…" June said with an interested smile.

His nerves crept up a little, but he managed not to show it at all. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time, knowing he'd eventually meet Hare's mother and be left alone with her, and it really wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be. Maybe it was the comfortable atmosphere or the wine he'd had earlier in the evening, but he felt quite relaxed.

"Well, I'm a hatter, a tailor, an inventor," Hatter started. "I also part time as a professor, painter, chef, candy maker, amateur dancer, party planner, diagnostician, cave explorer, ghost hunter, private eye, and I work for the department of missing royalty... among other things. I'm multi-talented and like to keep myself busy." He paused and took a sip from his cup before adding, "I think next week I'm going to try being a cowboy."

"My my, you do seem to like to keep busy," June said, not being able to hide her amusement. "Does Hare do all of these things with you or do you work separately?"

"Oh, no, Hare is always helping me with what I do. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have him around to assist me," Hatter said with a chuckle. "We're always working together on projects and jobs and things. I don't think there's a single job that I've done since I met the Hare that he hasn't played some role in. We just can't keep our hands off each other."

There was a clatter as the OUT door bumped against the Hare, who stood at the doorway with a shocked expression on his face. He was wearing a white button down shirt now, his yellow one in his hand, covered in baking soda. The three looked at one another for a moment, Hare with a look of panic on his face and June and Hatter one of slight confusion. Apparently Hare had only caught Hatter's last sentence.

"Is something wrong, son?" June asked. "Did the stain come out alright?"

"Uh…" the Hare looked at them and blinked. "What were you talking about?"

"Work," Hatter said with a shrug. "I think we're going to be cowboys next week, by the way. Think you can pencil that in?"

Hare furrowed his brow and took his pocket calendar out, glancing over their plans. "Should I move working on the time machine till the next week?"

"Oh, no!" Hatter said, aghast. "I'll want to work on the time machine so I can go back to today and live it over again. Better pencil it in for the week after then."

Hare nodded and June took another sip from her coffee cup.

"So, Hatter, what is your family like?" June asked as Hare returned to his seat, tucking his calendar away in his jacket. "Do you speak to your mother often?"

"I do," Hatter replied quickly. "I speak to my mother every second and fourth Wednesday of the month. I don't see my extended family often, but I write to them. And my no-good cousin drops by from time to time."

June looked at Hatter in surprise, her mouth gaping a little, before turning to Hare. "I thought you said that you liked his cousin and that she was very nice to you!"

Hare thought for a moment, blinking, before shaking his head. "No no, Ma. That's his other cousin, Hedda. She's the one who beat all of us at the triathlon. He's talking about his second cousin thrice removed, the Glad Hatter."

"Or as we call him, the Copy Catter Hatter," Hatter said with a little bit of a glare and a sneer, just the remembrance of his cousin and his evil deeds ruffing his feathers.

"Oh, I see," June relaxed a little, though a little nervous hearing about the dubious side of the Hatter family. "And your parents support you and the work that you do?"

Hatter raised his eyebrows and nodded, sipping from his tea lazily. "Yes, they do. They have always supported me in my many fascinations while I was growing up and gave me room to grow and find my way. I really couldn't have asked for anyone better. I think it's important to give them their freedom to find their own way in life and really express themselves in their own way, don't you?"

She smiled and nodded, leaning back into her chair a little. "Yes, that is important. That reminds me of a time when Hare wanted me to paint all the walls in his bedroom the most awful shade of orange I had ever seen. But he insisted and I wasn't about to tell him otherwise." They could see her remembering the story, little lines squinting under her eyes as she laughed to herself about it. "Or when I'd have to sleep with earplugs in because Hare would practice his tuba late into the evening. Sometimes you just have to let them find their own way."

Hatter looked at Hare and saw that he was getting uncomfortable with the line of questioning. Hatter didn't see why, but he supposed it was because he was afraid she'd say something embarrassing about him.

"Well, that kind of parenting really brought up a great guy," Hatter said with a smile. "I'm really quite fond of him." Hare felt a foot touch him under the table from Hatter's direction, making him hop out of his seat from the surprise. In an attempt to cover his blushing face, he started to clear the table. This was unusual behavior, it wasn't uncommon for them to leave the dishes out until the next rainstorm would wash them, but it didn't take Hatter long to get the hint.

"Oh!" he overreacted, waving his hands around and jumping to his feet to help pack the dishes and food up. The Hatter raised his arm to shove the table clean of its settings on impulse, only to stop suddenly and make eye contact with Hare, who looked at him with a "you'd better not" look, face still a little pink. Hatter sighed enthusiastically and calmly started to clear the table, stacking the dirty dishes neatly and placing them in bins to be cleaned. "This would be much quicker if I did this on my own…" he grumped to himself.

Seeing that things were being wrapped up, June got to her feet and started straightening up as well.

"Oh, June, thank you but you really don't have to…" Hatter remarked while Hare also made a move to stop her. "Just take a seat, we have this under control."

"Oh, nonsense. I don't mind helping," June said with a wave of her hand as she started gathering plates and silverware. "You know what they say: Many hands make light work." She loaded up her arms like she had been a waitress in a past life and followed Hare into the Hat house to the kitchen.

The Hatter stood by the table, watching the pair walk away, before glancing over at the Tea Fountain on the other side of the fence. "But… we usually… do the dishes there…" Furrowing his brow a little, he picked up the bin and strode into the house and to the overly crowded kitchen. The small sink was already overloaded and dishes were piling up on the counter and on the kitchen table.

"Hare, why don't we leave-" he started, only to get The Look from Hare. He was standing at the sink, his jacket already off and hung up carefully on a hook, gloves and apron on with his mother beside him turning on the faucet. "Okay…" he stopped. Putting the bin down on the table, he retreated outside to gather up more dishes.

--

An hour or so later, all the dishes were clean and dry, sitting out on the countertops and table in neat stacks. June looked very pleased with how nicely everything looked and Hare had a similar proudness about him. Hatter looked like he wanted to push both the bunnies out of his house and lock the doors for making him clean everything tonight.

"Much better," June said, removing her rubber gloves from her hands and setting them over the sink to dry.

"Yes, thank you both so much for your help," Hatter grumbled. He had taken off his jacket and had an apron wrapped around his middle, soap suds splattering him from his stomach down.

"I can't help but notice that some of these are chipped…" June frowned, picking up one and examining it meticulously. It was obviously one from Hatter's collection that got thrown in among the gifted ones Hare had supplied.

Hare grimaced and gave Hatter a worried look, waiting for the inevitable.

"Oh, yes…" Hatter nodded, sitting up and reaching out for the chipped piece of china. "You know, you have parties all the time and accidents happen. Nothing to worry about. This one should be retired to storage."

June's eyes narrowed a little as she gave him the cup. It had seemed that she had accepted his explanation.

"Would you like a tour of the house, Mom?" Hare offered, removing his own apron and putting his blazer back on. "I don't know if you'll have time tomorrow, with the talent show and everything."

"Talent show?" June's eyes brightened, ears perking a little.

"Oh, did I not tell you about that?" Hare asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Hatter put together a talent show for you tomorrow night."

"Everyone in Wonderland will be performing for you, June. It's sure to excite and delight," Hatter explained, coming up behind Hare. "Even Hare put together an act for you."

"You did!?" she squealed, reaching out and grabbing her son by the arm, giving him a squeeze. "Oh, I'm so excited!" Hare looked at Hatter with a pained smile on his face, wordless asking him to help.

"Uh, it'll be tomorrow night, so you both can spend the day together and then you'll come here after," Hatter said, stealing in and taking June by the arm to lead her further into the house. "But, for now, let me show you around."

They toured the house from top to bottom and Hare's mother seemed rather impressed. Hare was relieved to see that she didn't make any mention of anything being out of place and was rather enchanted with how eclectic the Hatter's style was. Everywhere was something new or interesting for her to see and she loved it. She also ogled over all the photos that were scattered around the house of the two of them. She found one at the foot of the stairs and put her hand on it, squinting to get a better look.

"I like that one," Hatter said with a smile, taking it down off the wall and handing it to June so she could get a better look. It was of the two of them and one of their inventions, posing with it as if they had invented air conditioning and not a consonant/vowel separator.

"You know…" June said in a hushed voice, so Hare couldn't overhear as he fussed about behind them. "He looks just like his father in this."

Hatter blinked and looked at the photo and then back at June. They still looked like mirror images of one another.

"You don't say…" Hatter grinned.

June pursed her lips and nodded slowly, handing it back to Hatter.

"Would you like a copy?" Hatter offered, only to be cut off by Hare.

"What are you looking at?" he asked suddenly, making them both jump a little, brow furrowing as he looked over his mother's shoulder.

"The Consonant/Vowel separator," Hatter replied. "She was asking how it worked."

"Oh, well not very well," Hare shook his head. "We didn't win a prize at the fair or anything for it."

"But we did get some scrummy funnel cake," Hatter added, making Hare nod in agreement.

"And fried twinkies."

They made their way up the stairs and to the attic, where June stood and just gazed at the array of items that it contained.

"Oh my…" she muttered to herself, gazing at boxes of holiday decorations, hats of various sizes and styles, chipped teapots and broken umbrellas, stopping at the Hatter's worktable to take a gander. There was also a mannequin in the corner that made her feel uncomfortable.

"This is where most of my work happens," Hatter said proudly, patting the battered wooden surface with a gloved hand. "The old workbench."

"It's a wonder you can work up here with all the clutter…" June managed, eyes wide behind her glasses as she browsed. She had her hands balled under her chin, a finger under her lip, and Hatter smiled as he recognized it as something Hare did often. She looked like she was afraid to touch anything for fear that it would bite her.

Hare started to panic a little. The area was clean of dust, sure, but possibly not as organized as it could have been. Hatter had noticed a tear in one of his best gloves earlier that morning and stole away up here to fix it without telling him about it, leaving a small mess at the table by accident.

"Hatter uses a lot of these things in his inventions, Mom," Hare tried to explain, reaching for a helmet with a lamp attached to its top. "He pieces things together to make them new again. He really is a genius."

Hatter blushed and shrugged his shoulders a little. "I think genius might be a strong word…"

"Do all your inventions involve headgear?" June asked, reaching out and adjusting the lamp that was attached to the helmet Hare was holding.

"No, not all of them," Hatter shook his head. "Just the reliable ones."

"Are the others… here?" June asked, looking about the clutter.

"We have a pretzel machine around here somewhere, but it doesn't turn off once it's on," Hare said. "And there's a house key homing device that's supposed to help you not lose your keys, but we can't find it."

"What happened to the invention in the photo downstairs?" June asked curiously. "The Consonant/Vowel separator?"

"We sold it," Hatter shrugged.

"To whom?"

"A man for spare parts," Hare said, shrugging his shoulders a little as he put the lamp helmet back in its home. "We needed the bus money home from the fair."

"We got too many funnel cakes," Hatter explained, patting his stomach. "And fried twinkies."

June's features softened and she smiled, reaching a hand out and patting her son on the shoulder. "All these inventions look amazing, son. You both worked so hard on them, I can tell. And, while they might not look like much, or work all the time, at least you're making the world better with them."

Hatter swore that he might have seen a tear come to the Hare's eye as his chest puffed up with pride at his mother's accolades. And he couldn't wipe the grin off his own face if he tried.

"Thanks, Mom," was all the Hare managed, a shy smile on his face.

"Let's get out of here," Hatter said a little after the moment had passed. "It's a little stuffy in this attic. How about one more mug of tea for the road?"

The trio made their way down the staircase, congregating in the living room at the sofa. Hatter made one last pot of tea and split it up between the three of them. They were all three tired and the tea was putting them in a relaxed mood. It didn't take long for the Hares to decide it was time to head home.

"I think I'll powder my nose before we head home," June whispered to her son.

"Sure, Mom," Hare said, getting to his feet. "First door on your right down the hall. It has a yellow teacup on it."

June nodded and followed his directions, leaving the Hatter and Hare alone for a moment. They stood by the front door, Hare adjusting his jacket, looking like he didn't want to leave.

"Will you need help setting up the stage?" Hare worried, biting his thumb a little, only for Hatter to take his hands in his and give them a squeeze.

"Don't worry about it," Hatter tried to ease his mind. "The Tweedles are coming early to help set up the stage and Alice will spend all day here helping me. Just enjoy your time with your Mother."

"I don't know if I can do that…" Hare wheezed. "I'm still too afraid that she's going to find something wrong."

Hatter tisked and shook his head. "Bunny, you worry too much," he muttered, before stealing a kiss.

Hare blushed and wanted to say more, but his Mother appeared over the Hatter's shoulder. He gave his hand one more squeeze, before letting go. "You ready to go home, Mom?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Is it chilly out?"

It was never chilly in Wonderland, but Hare looked at Hatter and sighed, taking his jacket off and draping it over his mother's shoulders. It engulfed her, but she pulled it closed around her front and smiled.

"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, June," Hatter said with a grin. "Have a safe trip home."

June lead the way out the front and Hatter tugged Hare back for a second, giving him one last kiss and pat on the bum before pushing him out the door.

[liquidmcgarnagle]

Que piensa; What do you think?

The diner was just another hole-in-the-wall built in to the Tower District.  One young and very beautiful woman was the only one on shift tonight even though there were seven people at the bar, and nearly all the booths were full.  He felt disgusted with the fact that she should have to put up with this as he snapped his finger in the air for service.  He hoped she hadn't actually seen him do it, but she was there right away with a fresh face.  

“Are you survivin' the night?” he asked.  “This place is packed!”  

 “Well, I like to think that I'll never get jaded, but I do get a little from a friend.”  She places her left pointer curled against the right side of her nose.  The thumb presses against her cheekbone and outward, opening her nasal passages and she sniffs cleanly in.  “It ain't so bad, just gotta keep on keepin' on ya know?  More coffee?”

“Thanks...” he squints at her chest, taking time to look without seeming pervert-y.  “Delia?  Delaila?  Diladid?  No wait...”  She chuckles.  He tilts his head to the side like a bird getting another vantage point for its food.  You know how they do.

“Cute...” she wants to roll her eyes, but she does so rapidly enough that no one notices.  Hard to fake sarcasm on the go.

“You know I can never tell when someone in the,” he air-quotes “service industry is having a good time with me, or just after tips.”  Gretchen sinks lower in to the booth reading Nietzsche.  It almost pissed him off the type of stuff she was reading these days, like she would start dressing in all black any minute now.        

“Ah, gotcha” double-tapping a click to his teeth like a check mark.  She worked hard even though she had substantive support.  He hated waiting on people; she must put up with a lot.  Jesus, He knew the owner too, and he was a dick.  Literally... his name was Richard.  

“So, you good then?”  she sniffs.  He can still see a little bit of white Halloween in the crevice between her thumb and forefinger.  He was always observant regarding psychoactives.  Why?  It was like something like that always finding him and staring straight in to his eyes.  Staring him down almost

“Um, naw, we're ok.  You doin' ok honey?”  She took off quickly emptying the coffee pot in to three different cups.  

“Miss, I had decaf” one of the patrons at a booth said.

“Then just drink a little bit Henry,” she retorted.  “Besides, I've always given you regular... you tip better when I sneak ya some.”  Henry shrugged his shoulders.  

“Don't address women, like that, or anyone for that matter.  It can be perceived as demeaning Dad.”

“Well, shit, maybe you should start calling me Mr. Dad?”  He was slightly embarrassed at the remark, but maybe she was right.  The times were changing and change made him very uncomfortable.  He thinks about all the changes in his life that he fought tooth and nail against and how they bit him in the ass.  The change happened and he didn't like the fight.  Ugh, he thought.  He missed not caring.  He missed the booze.  He missed the fun times he thought he had.  

“Are you familiar with honorifics Pop?” she asked snootily, knowing he had no idea.

“What do you think daughter?” curling roughly the way he called her to show he was a little pissed off at the educational lecture he was about to endure.  

“In Japanese culture, politeness is key.  After the feudal era, the status of people was highly important to contrast the lack of order during war.”  Stephen rolled his eyes.  Pissing him off gave her fuel for some reason; medieval fuel for a modern era.  She would 'sophen' him up a bit to get him pissed off enough to go to work today... this time.  

“So, honorifics are expressions of respect and endearment like the nature of a relationship when people talk with each other.  Like, if I was a student and you were my teacher, I would refer to you as senpai.  You would call mom, mama-chan.  I would call someone in a grade below me kohai.  You would refer to everyone around you as bozu cuz you hate everyone.”  She enjoyed teaching her father random stuff at random times.  He couldn't take it otherwise.  Knowledge had to be peppered on to him as if from the mill.  She couldn't tell him this or else he would figure it out and be shut out permanently; or at least until he forgot.  

“This is too much shit honey... fuck... shit... goddamnit...” he smacks the table hard, rattling the dishes.  You hear the spoon next to his daughter's cup of coffee.  She drinks it black referring to it as Mississippi Mud.  Mmm, smacking her lips every time she takes her first sip.  She falls in to her seat.  'that ain't right he says to himself.'  

“I am only saying that this is another way to think.  And it's nice, right?”

“Yes.  Yes it is Gretch.  But that kind of stuff would never fly here.  Everyone is just sitting in their own shit, thinking their better than everyone else, waiting for the right time to strike when the iron's hot and the people, ripe for the picking.  Let's talk about something else.  What'd you do in school today?”

“They had us take apart owl pellets.”

“What the hell are those?”

“Ok, you know, owls catch mice and eat 'em and stuff?  It's not like they have a knife and fork with their bib tucked in when they go to town,” she eyes how ridiculous her father looks with his done in.  It would be nice if the whole Beethoven look was still the style, but it's not.  “Well, they regurgitate whatever is left over from the carcass.  Owls eat the rodent.  Then, after their body sucks all the meat and nutrients out of it,” she imitates vomiting “Ughaah ughaah!”

“Oh, that's cool!  Not!  Haha,” he laughs at himself tritely.  “What the hell's the point?  I feel like they are wasting their time with this kinda shit.  My taxes pay for someone to go out, catch fucking shit-ton of owls, and go through their shit?!?”  

“Our tax dollars daddy.” responding slowly to make sure he doesn't feel so alone.  “And besides, that's not how it works.”

“Whatever,” he looks away and throws his arm in the air.  

“Alright what else?” he regretfully asks, but these are his fatherly duties, to know what's going on in the life of his offspring, especially at such an early age.  It's only our current cultural climate of capitalist consumerism that has begun to lay the tile of family disruption.  

“Well in health class after seeing all of those fucking STD's!  I find that sex can be summed up into this: 'a stinky yellow discharge.' And that's on both sides!” she doesn't care what she said.

“I told you to stop swearin' like that Gretch.”

“I like to think that I have a spice rack that sits on my tongue.  You haven't taken me Costco for a while.  And I'm all out of “like, really? damn and cun---”

“Stop right there young lady!  Goddamnit!  Sometimes I wish your mother was here to teach you how to speak proper.  But then I remember how big a' cunt she is.” looking off in the distance he moves his eyes towards her to make sure she knows he's fucking with her.

“How else am I supposed to put some flavor on what I say?” snickering.  

“You're smart, I know you'll think of something.”  He sighs with his forearms propping up his entire upper-torso.  He feels the weight of being a father in his brain.  It's emotionally exhausting.  What were the payouts?  What was the reason he had a kid in the first place?  Oh yeah.  

Such weird juxtaposition.  The dissociation of church and state.  The association between church and state.  Dangle the lusty lace in our faces while those we were supposed to love tell us what we think is wrong.  Just gotta explore.  Just gotta find out... find out... find out... for yourself.  

“You need any money for school tomorrow before I forget?” Stephen asks her squarely, and then immediately nonchalantly.  Gretchen looks around, slightly unsure, slightly disgusted, but she says something anyway.  

“I don’t know.  Look at everyone.”  Stephen looks around.  “What, you don’t see it?”

“See fuckin’ what?” he tries to take out the meat of the fuck as he speaks.  

“Look at how sad they all are.  We all come here to get something.  To get something we have to give something.  We feel bad that we have to have this exchange; always feeling that we’re being cheated, scammed, or not getting our money’s worth.  This has given life to this negative connotation with even receiving something for free, like ‘What do you want?’”

“This is the way the world works Gretch.  Scratch my back, I scratch yours.  Quid pro quo.  Nothing is free, except freedom.  They like to say it isn’t but that’s just one more piece of bait.  Tradition!!!”  he imitates Fiddler on the Roof.  

"I don’t want to accept it.  That cannot be the final say of how we turn out; hating the fact that we have to get together just to hate each other through barter.  And then!  And then we retreat back to whichever hole we found to hide from them,”  she is enamored with the anger and logical emotion she produced.

 “Look, I just don’t want people thinking I’m a deadbeat Dad.”  An obvious tweaker stumbles in like an electron firing in every direction.  The camera speeds up and slows down, like in Donnie Darko as the montage music plays.  The camera pans for the first time through Middlesex school depicting the main characters how the director wants you to see 'em.  His body parts flail while still seeming like he's about to fall over any second.  He walks toward the bathroom and stops dead.  He turns around looking at Stephen.  He collapses with his ass out and his elbows on their table, jumbling the words “How much?”

Stephen sticks his hand down his pocket, grabbing an ugly wad of cash and lots of change.  Gretchen grabs her backpack and stands on top of the trampoline-like pleathery booth.  She weighed practically nothing compared to the bounciness of the seat.  Stephen turns with the fist full of money and plows the presently degenerate right in the face as the cash flies everywhere.  The faces of the patrons all looked up at the scene, like a frozen applause.  Gretchen jumps in to the air towards her father as he's shaking his fist in painful disgust.  “Gretch!” he yells. “Fuck that hurt!”  He catches her and tucks her under his arm like a football; she and the backpack flailing beneath at the mercy of her father's panicked and happy gait.    

The camera pans upward: -25 to -32.5 degrees, quadrant IV of basic geometric circumstance...    Aside from the third dimension, vantage vector is at y=-1/3x +1, where the y axis presents the door, and the vantage point is just a few feet in front of and below Stephen and Gretchen; with Delia halfway out the glass door, waving the coffee pot in her outstretched and snowy appendage.  This is slow motion of course...

He says panting in run “I wish that pot pie place hadn't close hun.”

“I know Pop, we'll find another place soon.  I'll find somewhere we've never been before.  A unholy, holier hole in the wall, K?” her voice staccatos with every bounce, like when a baby is trying to make noises when you bounce it on your knee.  It sounds funny.  

“Fuck, that's the third place this week.”  

“I know Dad.”

You know I love you Gretch.  Everything ”

“I know Dad.”  They are both smiling while he sprints heavily away with his most prized possessions.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When you’re close to me Ch. 2

After the realization hit her, it was impossible for Astrid to look at him the same way anymore. (Aka being a teenager and having a crush on your best friend is the best set-up for prom night.)

[Part 1: Revelations] [Part 2: Chicken Dance]  [Part 3: Night Owls]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

Astrid looked at herself in the mirror while she was brushing her teeth that night, a smile on her face that had been there constantly since lunch, since Hiccup and she had agreed to go to prom together, as friends.

It was when she spit out the rest of the toothpaste foam that it hit her. He hadn’t phrased the question specifying they only go as friends. She shook her head as if the physical motion could stop her mind from overthinking, which was usually Hiccup’s move – he was the overthinker, she was there helping out with common sense.

Astrid [10:59pm]: It’s not a date, right?

Hiccup [11:11pm]: we’re friends

It was more of a statement than an actual answer, but it was answer enough. It wasn’t a date and they would make sure of it in order to keep it from becoming awkward.

They decided that Astrid would pick him up instead of the other way around where the boy would stand at the door with a bouquet in his hands waiting for the girl to come down the stairs while her father gave him the intimidating dad talk. They agreed on no flowers and no dads. She was there at eight and texted him to come outside, and then she drove them to prom.

Fishlegs was the official photographer of the night. He insisted on the job and wouldn’t leave it to anyone else. He was head editor of the school paper and as such would provide one of the important sources. Which was why he was taking his job very seriously and wouldn’t let Hiccup and Astrid pass without taking their official prom portrait. They tried talking him out of it, but he was relentless.

Astrid rolled her eyes and stood in front of the camera, arms crossed and glaring. Hiccup came up next to her, standing close enough that their arms touched and she could smell his cologne, which flustered her for a moment. It was somehow simultaneously grounding and disarming.

He told her to smile, his voice so close to her ear that it gave her goosebumps. She met his eyes and the camera went off with a flash. Hiccup put an arm around her shoulders and she casually leaned into him, the corners of her mouth curling into a grin on their own accord. The camera flashed a second time and Fishlegs was finally pleased.

Hiccup pulled her along, his hand burning on her bare arm, leaving it tingling when he let go.

The gym at Berk High was almost unrecognizable. Lights hung everywhere, a disco ball was suspended from the ceiling, colorful flashes were dancing over the floor. There were a few tables with drinks and snacks, seating accommodations here and there, and a big dancefloor in the middle of the hall. A DJ had set up his gear on a desk in a corner, music was blaring through large speakers, and the dancefloor was already full of students.

“Welcome to the jungle,” Astrid heard a familiar voice behind her say.

“We’ve got fun and games,” another equally familiar voice joined in.

The twins Ruffnut and Tuffnut appeared, matching grins on their faces.

“We got everything you want, honey, we know the names.”

“We are the people that can find whatever you may need,” Tuffnut finished and made an exaggerated bow.

Astrid crossed her arms. “You didn’t spike anything, did you?”

“We? Never.” Hiccup gave her a look that clearly said he didn’t believe them either. “Anyway, if you two need anything – and I mean anything – you know where to find us.” With that, Tuff winked at them and disappeared into the crowd, his sister by his side.

“Someone should keep an eye on them,” Hiccup mused and Astrid wholeheartedly agreed. Judging from the look on the twins’ faces, something was clearly to go awry tonight.

The party itself turned out to be better than Astrid had anticipated. The music wasn’t awful, there were no overprotective parents playing chaperone, people weren’t showing up drunk and it seemed like the twins had not done anything to the drinks (which made her a little suspicious, but she chose not to dwell on that, for the sake of her enjoyment of the night so far).

Hiccup was right next to her most of the time. Sometimes their elbows would touch and make her all the more aware of him. She would brush her bangs out of her face and look away to hide the almost constant blush that heated up her cheeks and ears. Heather winked at her every single time which Astrid always answered with a glare.

Snotlout tried asking her to dance every time a slow song came on, but she kept shutting him down. From the corner of her eye, she could see Hiccup frown at him in an annoyed fashion. But not a single time did he ask her himself.

Tuffnut, however, did. That was, he didn’t exactly ask but simply pulled her onto the dancefloor with him. It wasn’t a slow dance and Astrid knew there were no deeper intentions there, so she let him twirl her around in an extravagant fashion until she felt dizzy.

“Snotlout doesn’t even know how to dance,” he yelled in her ear over the loud music. “And Hiccup’s too chicken to even keep eye contact with you, so your best friend Tuffnut will show you how to have a good time.”

“Thanks, Tuffnut,” she said when the song ended. He bowed and placed a kiss on her hand.

“Anytime, my fair Astrid, anytime. Hey, I love this song!” With that, he threw his head back and his hands up, yelled along to the music and started to jump and spin around. The students around him quickly moved away from him so they didn’t get hit by his flailing limbs. Soon enough, a circle formed around him while he banged his head and danced in true Tuffnut fashion.

On her way back to her friends, Astrid saw Heather talking to Hiccup somewhere off to the sides. He rubbed his neck with one hand, and she could swear there was a blush on his nervous face. When Astrid reached them, Heather winked at her and disappeared into the crowd.

Hiccup wouldn’t look at her directly when she came to stand next to him. “So, um… Nice party, huh?”

“What did Heather say to you?”

He finally looked up, his green eyes wide. “Oh, n- nothing. I’m um, I’m gonna… I’m gonna go and… And find Fishlegs! Yeah, that’s… what I’m gonna… Yeah.” And with that, he was gone. Tuffnut was still rocking the dancefloor, Heather, Snotlout and Ruffnut were nowhere to be seen, and Fishlegs was taking photos on the other side of the gym, which left Astrid to herself. She crossed her arms with a scowl. She didn’t have to think hard to guess what Heather might have said to Hiccup. And that muttonhead had panicked.

She huffed and sat down on a chair in a corner, her good mood suddenly gone. Why was he avoiding her? Since Fishlegs had taken their portrait, he hadn’t looked at her once, apart from a few short glances. He’d been by her side the whole night so far, though. Had come along when the group decided to dance. Once, he had taken both her hands and twirled her a couple times, making her dizzy in a different way than Tuff had with his moves. But immediately after, he had dropped her hands and barely said anything to her since. It was as if he couldn’t stand being close to her. It stung.

On the one hand, Astrid figured he was as nervous as she was, here on their not-date that, whatever she told herself, felt real nonetheless. They were overstepping a line. They had always been friends, exclusively. By agreeing to go on this not-date date, they had made room for the potential for more. It wasn’t just a longing idea anymore that kept them – her, at least – awake at night. This was a chance for them to make a move, to erase that line. On the other hand, the otherwise determined Hiccup was acting like a coward by flinching away from every chance he got to take a step forward in whatever it was between them.

But, as vulnerable as Hiccup could make her feel with a mere look into her eyes, she wasn’t Astrid Hofferson if she didn’t advance on her own. If he was too afraid to do something, she would do it instead.

Taking a deep breath, she made a decision. Tonight, she would make the move.

What that move was, however, Astrid wasn’t sure. Should she kiss him? Tell him about her feelings? Kiss him then? But what if he didn’t want her to? Argh! Astrid stomped her foot. She hated this uncertainty, this vulnerability. It was like Hiccup had this power over her. This power that he didn’t even know he possessed. Was he aware that he could easily break her, turn her whole world upside down? Knowing him, he would never intentionally do that. But if he hadn’t picked up on all the signs she’d been sending him during a whole year, he could have the best intentions with his actions but still unknowingly break her heart.

She nervously clenched her fist when she heard the music change to a slow song. She scanned her surroundings but couldn’t find Hiccup at first. Then the crowd parted and he dodged several couples who had started swaying to the music.

Astrid’s lips curled into a smile on their own when he sat down next to her and breathed a simple “Hey.” She felt the familiar storm of butterflies in her stomach when he held her gaze and smiled that lopsided smile of his that gave her heart palpitations on a regular basis. “Sorry for running off earlier.” He sheepishly rubbed his neck, a familiar gesture of his.

“Yeah, that wasn’t cool.” She relaxed in her seat. A simple smile and his calm voice did that to her. She raised a hand and loosely hit his shoulder with it. “That’s for leaving me alone over here.”

“Guess I deserved that.” Astrid hummed in agreement and they fell into a comfortable silence. It wasn’t until the song was almost over that she remembered her plan. She just needed to ask him. Just a single dance. Now, before the song was over. But when she turned to him and opened her mouth, the words already on her tongue, and he looked back at her with these big green eyes, freckles barely visible in the dim light, she froze, stuck under his questioning gaze. And when she shook herself out of it, it was already too late, the beat faster, the chance missed. Astrid inwardly cursed.

“What is it?” Hiccup asked, still looking at her.

“Oh, nothing,” Astrid brushed her bangs out of her face, “I just wanted to ask if you… wanted something to drink.” She could have sworn he looked disappointed for a second, but then he nodded, smile back on his face.

“Sure.”

With ABBA playing in the background, they made their way to the drink stand, choosing between water, soda, and something ominous with a bright blue color. It tasted as predicted – too sweet and too fake, and weirdly sour at the same time. Astrid downed the whole cup all in one go and flushed the strange taste in her mouth away with water. Hiccup was silently sipping his coke, flashing her tight smiles whenever she looked over.

Astrid wished the twins had done something to the drinks. Maybe a little alcohol would calm her nerves and make this less awkward. Hiccup’s simple presence made her feel energetic, powerful, like she was on fire, and extraordinarily nervous at the same time. She cursed her adolescent hormones. One glance from him and she wanted to step closer, closer, until their bodies touched, until their lips collided, and closer, always closer and – and she wished she had a beer, or maybe six, right now. To make it easier to be around him while he was in this tux, jacket thrown over his shoulder, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up, flashing lights illuminating his face. Astrid wished it were easier to just ask Hiccup such a simple question as–

“Do you… want to dance?”

She blinked in surprise and stared at his outstretched hand, then at his wide, hopeful eyes. It took her an embarrassing time of several seconds to fully register what was happening.

Her heartbeat took up a notch when she placed her hand in his and walked with him to the dancefloor. She hoped he didn’t feel her racing pulse or noticed the blush creeping on her face when she realized this was a slow song.

The world around her blurred and faded when she put her hands on Hiccup’s shoulders and felt his coming around her waist. They started swaying to the music, soon finding their own rhythm.

Astrid was aware of every smallest movement of her fingers where they were lying on his shoulders, felt the fabric of his shirt, and realized she was gripping a little too hard. She felt the warmth of his hands through her dress. Her waist was the source of millions of tingles shooting through her body, her heart was racing, her stomach dropping out with every little shift of his fingers, with every time their eyes met. Somehow, they managed to not trip or step on each other’s toes, like this rhythm was specifically designed for them.

Hiccup pulled her closer ever so slightly, green eyes full of affection, and an overwhelming wave of fondness spread in her chest. She managed to break away from his gaze, put her hands around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder. She breathed in his scent, a mix of cologne, shampoo, and something distinctively Hiccup. Closing her eyes, she buried her nose in his neck while his hands snaked around her back.

Astrid didn’t remember the last time she felt so content, so safe and so warm. As a matter of fact, she didn’t remember anything, couldn’t think about anything. There was just her and Hiccup and Phil Collins. Right now, a comet could destroy the earth, everything could burn down, aliens could invade Berk, her whole world could shatter – nothing mattered except Hiccup’s arms around her, hugging her tightly.

In this moment, she didn’t give a damn about how cliché it sounded that she felt his heartbeat sync with hers. For all she cared, a director could yell cut when the song ended and wrap some high school rom-com she and Hiccup were unknowingly starring in as leads. In fact, she never wanted the song to end, willed the DJ to put in on loop.

But her wish didn’t come true. The song faded into a fast, more upbeat one. Reluctantly, she let go of Hiccup, taking a step back, her fingers twitching to reach out for his hands. She could feel her heart in her throat when she met his eyes again and swallowed. All of a sudden it was hard to breathe when he looked at her that intensely.

“Wanna get some air?” she managed to say while her brain was still caught in the fog of being so close to Hiccup. He nodded and they weaved their way through the crowd and out the doors.

As soon as they got outside, Astrid’s heart slowed down to a normal pace. It was already dark, the last remnants of light on the horizon disappearing while more stars appeared every time she blinked. She took a deep breath. The air was fresh and smelled like rain. And sure enough, the first clouds were blanketing the sky in the far distance.

A few students were standing in groups around the entrance to the gym, lit only by the light coming from inside and the screens of their phones. Astrid ignored their curious glances and kept walking, Hiccup trailing close behind her. She’d never really cared for high school gossip and would certainly not start tonight. Besides, one of them was one of the girls that had tried asking Hiccup to prom, and it took Astrid a lot of willpower to not turn around and meet that girl’s seething glare with a victorious smirk. Her dignity knew better.

They strolled along the school grounds in comfortable silence. Hiccup had his hands in the pockets of his pants, his jacket still over his shoulder. Astrid wondered how it had not fallen off yet and if he even knew it was there. She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. Every once in a while, their arms brushed, but Astrid didn’t flinch away. She could feel his eyes on the side of her face and was glad that it was dark. Her cheeks were burning from a combination of the hot, stuffy air inside the gym and Hiccup’s attention.

“You look great, by the way,” Hiccup said when they passed the garden club’s flowerbed. “I really like your hair down like that.”

Astrid felt her ears flush and twirled a strand of hair on a finger. “Thanks. You look really nice, too.”

Hiccup rubbed his neck shyly and Astrid already sensed a protest coming, but for once he actually accepted a compliment like that without talking himself down in a sarcastic way. “Thanks.”

A sudden cool breeze hit her and she tried to suppress a shiver, but Hiccup saw it. “Here,” he said, took the jacket off his shoulder – so he did know it was there – and put it around hers.

“Thanks,” she murmured and slipped her arms through the sleeves. The shivering stopped immediately. It smelled like Hiccup.

She shot him a smile as they approached the set of swings they’d spent most of sophomore year on, mostly with the whole gang, sometimes just the two of them after last period, talking and joking around for hours. She remembered one day when her mother had called her asking where she was and Astrid realized it was past eight already, the sun dipping down on the horizon.

She sat down on the right swing – her swing – and Hiccup plopped down on the left one. They just sat there silently reminiscing for a while.

“I guess that song goes into our playlist, huh?” Hiccup said eventually.

“Really?” Astrid played nonchalant, “you think it was special enough?” Even in the dark, she could see the panic on his face as he tried to backpedal.

“Oh, well no, I mean yeah, I mean if you don’t–“

Astrid chuckled. “Hiccup, it’s okay. I’m kidding.” She couldn’t hear his exhale, but it was evident in the way his shoulders untensed. Jumping off the swing, she slowly started walking again. “It was nice.”

“Yeah.” He smiled his lopsided smile at her as he caught up with her and bumped his shoulder against hers. She bumped back harder.

“Hey!” Hiccup complained. “Violence!”

“Communication,” Astrid insisted and earned herself a chuckle.

“Then tell me, what are you communicating?” Hiccup asked.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t know, give me a hint, maybe.” Did this count as flirting? Astrid wasn’t sure, but she liked it.

“I’ve given you plenty of hints, Haddock.” She didn’t wait for him to answer. There was another subject she wanted to bring up. “What did Heather say to you earlier?”

Astrid expected him to avert his gaze, maybe rub his neck or start rambling. Instead, he looked her dead in the eye. “Well, what do you think?”

Her fist hit his shoulder. “That’s for using my words against me.” She hit him again. “And that’s for not dancing with me sooner.”

Hiccup rubbed the spot she’d hit and pursed his lips. “You didn’t dance with me, either.”

“Because you were avoiding me!”

“I wasn’t– This isn’t even supposed to be a real date, remember?”

“Oh, really?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” His arms were flailing around more than usual while he was talking.

“You tell me!”

Hiccup sighed. “Are we really having this argument right now?”

“Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?” Astrid asked, softer, hoping. They’d made their way over the school grounds by now and had reached the other side of the gym. A few lights were illuminating a small area near the back exit. Astrid could see Hiccup’s forehead crease, his brows furrow, as he looked at her for a long time. She gulped down the sudden fear of rejection that wormed its way into her heart. Whatever Hiccup would say or do now, however vague it would be, it could go only one of two directions. Either it was a hint that he felt the same way about her like she did about him – or that he didn’t.

“I-” he began, the rest of the sentence getting stuck in his throat, for once lost for words. His eyes darted down her face. “Your lips are still blue,” he mumbled. Astrid traced her tongue over them. They tasted like sugar.

She wondered what his would taste like if she inched closer. If she leaned in, tilted her head a little, shut her eyes and–

“Hiccup, my man!”

Astrid and Hiccup jumped apart. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. He ran a face over his hand with a sigh as he turned around and faced the source of the interruption.

“Tuffnut!”

“Yes, pal, it’s me. Welcome to the jungle!”

Ruffnut appeared by his side, a wicked grin on her face. “We’ve got fun and games.”

“We got everything you-“

“You do know what that song is about, right?” Hiccup interrupted Tuff with a raised eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“Sure we do,” Ruff said, “that’s why he have–” she pointed with both her hands at her brother who opened his jacket, revealing pockets full of condoms, “these.”

“We already provided our service to three couples,” Tuff added. “If anything, we’re the safe angels of Berk High prom.”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “I don’t even want to know the details.” She turned to Hiccup defeatedly. “Let’s just get back inside.”

“You know where to find us!” Ruffnut shouted after them as they rounded the corner, disappearing from the twins’ sight.

Astrid sighed. The moment was ruined. Neither of them brought up what had just almost happened while they took the shortest path back to the party. Her heart was racing again. Being around Hiccup was probably bad for her health.

But that had been it, right? They had almost kissed. She tried to remember if it had been just her who had leaned in or if he had as well. He had, hadn’t he? All at once, Astrid wasn’t so sure. But he hadn’t pulled away, either, right? She groaned inwardly.

“The twins are one of a kind, huh.” She turned her head to look at Hiccup. The expression in his eyes was unreadable, which Astrid found absolutely frustrating. Usually, she was able to read him like a book. But if she were to guess, he was equally unsure about what to do or say in this situation. There was no way he could interpret what the twins had interrupted the wrong way. The question was how he felt about it.

“Sure are,” Astrid answered as he opened the door, paused for a second and then awkwardly held it open for her.

“Milady,” he mumbled and waved her inside.

Her heart skipped a beat at the nickname as she shuffled past him. The loud music and stuffy air immediately greeted her as soon as she stepped inside the gym. After the cool, quiet atmosphere outside, she felt like entering a different world. She soon found Heather talking to Fishlegs near the snacks and trudged over to them.

“Where have you been?” her friend asked her when she entered earshot. “And what are you wearing?”

It was then that Astrid noticed she was still wearing Hiccup’s jacket. “Oh, right,” she muttered and took it off before giving it back to Hiccup who had followed her over. “Thanks,” she said, brushing her bangs out of her face.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and took it from her. Their fingers touched ever so slightly but the spark was intense, nonetheless. Astrid swallowed.

Heather looked at her with a teasing grin and leaned forward to whisper something in her ear. “I’m sensing sexual tension.”

“Heather!” Astrid hissed under her breath, knowing she was blushing before she felt it. She shot the boys a glance. Hiccup averted his eyes quickly and Fishlegs had turned in the other direction, shooting more photos with his camera.

“He’s blushing,” Heather whispered in a sing-song voice.

“Shut up,” Astrid answered in the same way. “What even did you say to him earlier?”

Heather chuckled. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t related to… you know.”

Astrid eyed her warily. “Related to what?”

Heather winked at her in the most suggestive manner. “The sex dream.”

Astrid whipped around and pulled her friend away from the boys, far away, to the other side of the gym, where there was no chance they could hear them, see them, read their lips or use any other way to find out what the two girls were talking about.

“You will never ever talk about this to anyone, least of all Hiccup!” She gave Heather her very best glare. “I told you that in confidence!”

“You told me because you were horny and desperate to talk about it.” Heather wasn’t affected by Astrid’s glare at all, probably because her face was as red as a tomato.

“I was confused, not horny! And it was still in confidence, okay?!”

Heather put an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’m just messing with you. I won’t tell him, mainly because he’d probably combust on the spot or drop dead anyway. Or stutter himself to death, I bet he can do that.”

Astrid crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the other girl, trying to figure out how serious she was. Heather was her best friend after Hiccup and Astrid knew she could essentially trust her, which had been a reason why she’d told her about the dream in the first place, but sometimes she could be devious and sneaky. “Do you promise?”

Heather nodded solemnly. “I promise and I swear. Whichever you prefer.”

After another minute of judging, Astrid sighed and finally dropped her glare. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “Let’s not talk about this anymore, alright?”

“At least not for tonight,” Heather winked at her and grabbed her wrist. “Come one, let’s dance.”

Thankfully, Heather kept her word. It didn’t stop Astrid from watching her carefully whenever she came close to Hiccup, though.

Every once in a while, their eyes met and Astrid’s heart contracted in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to drag Hiccup back outside to a spot far from the twins and continue what they’d started before they’d been interrupted. And ever since Heather had mentioned the dream, she thought about paying a visit to the safe angels of Berk High prom to let them provide her with their goods and – and she really needed to cool off. Her hormones were raging.

Maybe she just needed to clear her mind of him for a while. Dance with Heather, get Fishlegs to lay down his camera for an hour, invent a fake party on the other side of town that Snotlout just had to attend.

Maybe then she could try this move one more time.

[ghost-gies]

Eric and Jamie getting hung by their underwear next to each other and not being able to get down

oh no ;0; i didnt mean to make this so long, and unedited aaaaa sorry!!

//

Eric squirmed as Bing laughed, hanging him beside the shy mute ego. Tears rushing down his face, the cool wind hitting his naked thighs and legs, chilling him to the bone. His awkward flailing to get down from his own hung underwear was useless as Bing gathered Eric’s pants.

“B-Bing! Please! I…I jus-just want down!”

“Too bad, nerd.” Chase interrupted. Camera shoved in Eric’s blushing face. Panning over his body, his neat black button down wrinkled by his tighty whities. Humiliation coursing through his body with each rapid heartbeat.

“I w-won’t tell anyone! I wa-want down, please!”

Jameson arches his back, trying to find his footing. Trying to knock himself down from the gate. Definitely before anyone sees them.

“Nope! I already got what I wanted, you two getting down?” Chase pans over to Jameson. Bing reaches forward to snap the tight stretched leghole of his briefs against Jameson’s pale skin. A surprised yet weak noise leaving his lips, “that’s a you problem.”

“And for all you guys in the Brody Bunch, thank you so much for watching this special Prank Saturday episode!” Chase turns the camera. Filming his outro as if the other two behind them were invisible. Chuckling and joking to follow their social media and channels.

And just like that, with a sly grin thrown their way, Bing throws their pants halfway across the backyard. Chase asking if Bing would want to stay for a while.

Eric breathes heavily – no way he can be stuck up here, half naked, at his bully’s backyard. No way this be happening.

He whimpers, with each little movement, his tighty whities ride up his crack. His ass cheeks fully exposed, rubbing against the cold uncomfortable gate. Squirming over to his side, hearing his briefs tear every other minute.

Maybe this guy can help him.

“H-Hey? Erm…H-Hi, I’m…Eric,” the younger ego spoke, getting Jameson’s attention.

Jameson blushes, stopping his own movements to get down. His hands trying to rip at his (rather durable) briefs. The fabric running up his ass, hanging him tightly to the gate, regretting his choice to wear the blue briefs that day.

‘Hi, I’m Jameson’ the other signs, 'do you speak sign language?’

“Oh! Y-Yea,” Eric nods, “uh, my…b-brother Teric was deaf…uh, are you reading my lips?”

'I’m mute. I can hear you clearly.’

“Oh! Okay, I uh, don’t think I could’ve kept turned to keep talking,” Eric coughs, his briefs ripping more, “Chase g-got you too?”

'I’m afraid so. He offered me downstairs to drink some tea with him. I brought along my vintage tea set before he ambushed me like some childish bully. Sadly, no other Sep//tic egos were home to help me before Bing started to record…’

He pauses his signing. Blushing along his pale face. A light pink dusting against his cheeks. Remembering as Chase shoved him down across the table, his slacks being pulled down fast towards his ankles.

The demeaning laugh of Bing and Chase as they snap the waistband of Jameson’s underwear against his hips. Gasping lightly with weak vocal cords, trying to fight back.

“Calm down bro,” Bing had cooed, “you’re our special victim today on Prank Saturday!”

That proved to be the only warning he had before his briefs were yanked up. A weak groan leaving his lips as the underwear was tugged up his ass. Cheeks exposed as Chase took turns spanking teasingly at them. Turning his ass a light red as Bing tugged the briefs up higher and higher. Toes curling in his fancy shoes as the two wasted no time in gathering all the footage they need.

“Go ahead and yell for Henrik or Jackie to save you, nerd!” Chase laughed, taking Bing’s place during the wedging, “before we hang you out to dry.”

It was only then Jameson realized they had ruined his favorite vest. Tea spilt down the front, obviously from his pinning against the table.

“Oh, I g-got invited by Bing…he and I w-work together. I just…r-remember him asking me if I c-can help Chase sell some of his m-merch for his channel…”

Oh, Eric remembered his all too easily. Being led upstairs of the Sep//tics’ home to Chase’s room. Anxious, yet excited to sell the merch. His back turned as he assumed Chase fixed the camera while Bing hooked the lights up.

His fingers grazing over the soft cotton shirt proudly displaying Chase’s channel art. Yelping as cold hands grabbed his jeans, pulling down hard to reveal his underwear. Tighty whities, his name printed ever so neatly on the waistband. Shivering in place, frozen as he turns back.

Bing’s smiling face greeted him. Chase’s camera blinking the classic red as he recorded. Their smirks devilish as Bing pulled Eric towards them.

“B-Bing?! Chase w-wait no! I-I need–”

“You don’t need anything, nerd.”

“Nerd? W-What’s going on? Bing?!”

“You’re our special victim for Prank Saturday, bro! Get ready for your debut!” Bing shouted, wasting no time in tugging Eric’s waistband to the camera. Just barely showing off the top of his perky ass.

“And check it, a true nerd right here! His name written on the fucking band, dude. Were you planning on us doing this?” Bing asks. Eric panicking as he tries to grab his pants. Chase keeping his foot on the forgotten garment.

“Wait! N-No! I’ll d-do whatever–!” Eric yelped as he hoisted into the air by Bing’s mechanical arm. The tighty whities wedged up his ass. Hips shaking as he cries out. Back arched and eyes shut tight as he was yanked up higher and higher. Ass exposed for Chase to zoom in on.

“This /is/ what we want!” Chase laughed, “Bing, stretch out the nerd’s tighty whities as much as you can. I think he’ll have a great time hanging out with JJ!”

“What?! Please! G-Guys!”

Eric was ignored as Bing nearly gave him an atomic. His tighty whities never enduring it, much less a normal wedgie. Tears forming as his blush settled on his cheeks, knowing Chase was catching every single moment of his shame.

“Uh, here –” Eric groaned, snapping out of his flashback, “I’m gonna t-try something weird, but it’ll g-get me down so I can, erm…get you down…”

'Promise to get me down? Please?’

Eric felt his own heart grow heavy as he saw how…dejected Jameson looked. Ignoring the sounds of Bing and Chase laughing inside the home.

He had to get him down. No way was he going to leave such a kind ego like him hanging here.

“P-Promise.” Eric grit his teeth, “it’s gonna make the gate shake, b-brace yourself.”

Jameson nodded, holding onto the gate from behind as he shut his eyes tight.

Eric began to bounce himself. The gate shaking, the legholes pinching his skin, the pressure on his dick almost…welcomed in a strange sense. Biting his lip as each bounce he gave made his tighty whities rip more and more. The tips of his toes reaching the grass.

Jameson gasped as a particularly harsh bounce made him sink lower on his own briefs, just barely giving in with a small rip.

Eric gave it his all, moaning as he finally pushed himself down hard. Whimpering as some sort of pleasure built in his stomach. The wedgied briefs ripping from the gate with his efforts. Leaving Eric nude from the waist down. His dick half hard as he rushed to grab his pants to cover himself.

Jameson’s stomach sunk, thinking Eric was simply lying, leaving him to dangle.

Pleasantly surprised as Eric ran back to gently unhook Jameson. Helping him regain his strength in his legs. The poor older ego hanging for much longer, stumbling against Eric as the other helped to cover him.

'Eric, thank you. You’re…’ Jameson paused in his signing, blushing, 'you’re a lifesaver.’

“I would’ve done…w-what anyone else would have for y-you.” Eric swallowed, “let’s get you to your room and c-cleaned up, yea?”

Jameson nodded. The two shuffling in quietly to avoid their bullies. Blushing as they stayed so close together.

Completely forgetting Eric’s shredded tighty whities on the green grass.

[thisisthe-way]

Proposal

Uraraka stared in awe around her at the large, traditional Japanese property, smoothing out the ruffles of her pink dress and clinging to Bakugou’s arm. She smiled over at him, fixing the collar of his dress shirt when it began to flap upward. “You look very handsome, Katsu.”

“Tch,” Bakugou snorted, but smirked down at her. The vile of pebbles he always wore was showing under the shirt, only the brown twine resting on his barely visible collarbone. Uraraka couldn’t complain that he never wore a tie with his dress shirts. She rather enjoyed him keeping the first few buttons open like that.

Luuuucky, she sometimes throught as she admired her well-built boyfriend’s hero body. She kissed his cheek. “And what about me?”

He glanced down at her again, and shrugged. “Passable,” he teased—and found himself flailing and yelling on the ceiling suddenly.

A head of white hair with little red flecks peeked our or the house’s largest room, and blinked behind glasses. “You must be more of otouto’s friends. He’s told me about the loud, angry boy before.” She stepped all the way out and smiled. “I’m Fuyumi. Come inside. The rest of you are already here.”

Inside, the rest of class 1A was standing around a refreshments table, eating and drinking, and Todoroki was pacing at the back of the room in front of a frail looking woman sitting in a chair.

Endeavor was on the other end of the room, talking bolsterouslty to the only other elders in the room. He and the frail woman were as far apart as the size of the room would allow.

Uraraka released her boyfriend from the ceiling and trailed inside, waving to Midoriya and Iida, talking to Jirou and Kaminari near the refreshments.

Todoroki noticed them, and touched the seated woman’s shoulder before approaching them, glaring, his gaze only half-hearted as he still seemed preoccupied. “Could you two have made a louder entrance?”

“Gomen, Todoroki-kun,” Uraraka replied, touching Bakugou’s shoulder gently. “He’s an asshole.” Her smile only brightened.

“You say that too easily now,” Bakugou mumbled down at her. She grinned, sweetly.

Todoroki frowned and glanced over at his father and the other two elder Quirk users. “Momo’s parents. My old man is getting too friendly.” He scoffed. “He’s pretty happy I decided to marry the only other person from my class who got in on recommendation.” He laughed bitterly. “He actually thinks I’m doing this because of our Quirks. Delusional bastard.”

Uraraka glanced over st Endeavor. “I thought things were better between you two? That’s what Yaomomo said.” She felt Bakugou’s arm tighten on her waist, and she touched his wrist, discreetly. It was no secret to 1A anymore the way Endeavor had raised Todoroki. Their class tended to be a little warier around the flame hero now, number two or not.

“Sort of. He’s not that different. No one changes that quickly,” Todoroki replied, glancing down and shaking his head. He looked over at the seated woman. “At least Okaasan could be here for this. Did Momo text you, Uraraka-san?”

“Mm. She just got off. She thinks it’s just dinner between the four of us. Your secret is safe.” Uraraka smiled at him. “You ready for this?”

“Absolutely not,” Todoroki mumbled, and glanced up at his siblings who were bringing their mother a drink and a plate of food. “But it helps to have everyone here.” He fiddled with something in the pocket of his slacks.

Bakugou snorted. “Shut the fuck up. How can you pretend to be good at everything like you do if you’re afraid of something that’s actually supposed to be fuckin’ good? Screw what your old man says—you love her, right? So unfreeze your shriveled balls, man the hell up and do it.”

Todoroki chuckled and raised his white eyebrow at Bakugou. “Thanks for the pep talk, Bakugou. I feel so much better now.” He slid his eyes to Uraraka. “He’s a keeper.”

Sensing the sarcasm, Uraraka grinned. “Eh, passable.” She raised her eyebrows up at Bakugou, wondering if he’d catch the joke. He did, glaring playfully down at her.

“She’s coming!” Jirou called, her earphone jack plugged into the wall—she could hear Yaoyorozu coming up the path of the Todoroki residence.

“Shit,” Todoroki breathed and Bakugou smirked widely at how nervous he was all of a sudden.

“Does anyone have a camera? Stoic Half-half is shaking!” Bakugou growled in glee. “Someone take a picture!”

“....you really are an asshole,” Uraraka said to her boyfriend, her expression deadpan.

A moment later, the door slid open, Yaoyorozu having heard some of the commotion and she blinked when all eyes turned on her. “Oh. Uh. Okay....hey, everyone.”

Todoroki swallowed heavily and approached her. “Aisuru, there’s someone I want you to meet.” He placed his left hand gently on her waist, despite her having returned home and changed into regular clothes after work, and sent a small shock of heat through her body to warm her from the cold night air she’s walked through. He led her over to the seated woman, and smiled, gently. “Okaasan.”

Todoroki Rei glanced up at them, and smiled gently. “So, you’re Yaoyorozu Momo? Shoto never stops talking about you when he comes to visit me. He never stops smiling—more than I’ve ever seen him smile, even.”

“Okaasan...” Todoroki mumbled, blushing lightly.

Yaoyorozu giggled with her own blush, hiding her smile and embarrassment behind her hand. “Oh, Todoroki-san, arigatou. Shoto is very kind to me—he builds me up when I’m doubting myself. He’s a good man.”

Rei looked at her son with a small, distant smile. “He is. I wish I could’ve seen him become one.”

Todoroki shot a sharp look over his shoulder at Endeavor when he tried to approach behind Yaoyorozu’s parents. “She’s visiting from the hospital just for tonight,” he murmured, returning his attention to his girlfriend.

“Tonight? Why, Shoto?” Yaoyorozu asked with a curious frown. “What’s special about tonight?” She smiled at her parents and waved when they were close enough, and then turned her eyes again to Todoroki. “Why is everyone here?”

Todoroki swallowed and pulled her to the center of the room. “Momo, Aisuru, boku no kokoro,” he murmured, affectionately.

“Seriously, where the hell is a camera when we need one?!” Bakugou barked, gleefully, at seeing Todoroki in such a vulnerable state.

A sharp brown eye snapped toward him. “Damareyarou,” Todoroki commanded, his tone low, even and extremely irritated, emphasizing the words with a slam of his foot down, causing a line of ice to crawl over the floor and up Bakugou’s body until his mouth was frozen over.

Bakugou struggled, growled and yelled against the ice, snapping and popping small explosions against it until he was free. “TEME!!”

“KATSUKI,” Uraraka snapped, and Bakugou immediately stopped, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting angrily, steaming coming up off of his head.

There was a snorted laugh from someone in the room, and Bakugou’s eyes flared, and he started to lunge toward the noise, but was caught and held by Tsu’s tongue.

Uraraka looked at her friend and smiled. “Arigatou, Tsu-chan.” She looked back at Todoroki. “Go on. Sorry.”

Yaoyorozu was laughing a little at the familiar antics of her former classmates and she tilted her head at Todoroki. “What is going on with you? Bakugou-san is right; you’re acting strangely.”

She took half a step back in shock when a small velvet box was suddenly held between them, her eyes widening. “Sh-Shoto...?”

“You know what it means. I don’t have to say it. But I will if you want me to. I’d do anything you asked of me, honestly. I’ve never loved any one thing as much as I love you, Momo.” His eyes were sincere. “And the idea of loving something that much terrifies me.”

He turned a sharp glare at his father. “You may be strong, with an impressive Quirk,” and then his gaze was soft again, and only hers, “but I would love you even if you were Quirkless. So? What’s your answer?”

Yaoyorozu felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes, and took the box, opening it to reveal a silver ring with a diamond and ruby inlayed in separate settings.

“It’s my mother’s ring. My father had it made as a...tasteless symbol for what he was trying to do,” Todoroki murmured, softly. “But if you wear it, it’ll actually mean something. That’s what Okaasan told me when she gave it to me to give to you.”

The tears fell without warning, and she looked back up at her boyfriend, her lips pressed together tightly to keep from squeaking or sobbing. She swallowed, and swallowed again, and then nodded as little Russian nesting dolls started to fall out of her sleeves and skirt.

“N-nesting dolls?” Todoroki asked, eyes widening.

“Th-the first time you believed in me—I cant help creating them sometimes when y-you’re overtly kind to me,” she whimpered, wiping at her eyes.

“I’ve never seen you—“ He began, and she shook her head to interrupt him.

“You haven’t seen the back closet in my house!!” She cried, implying she would escape their to discharge her Quirk, and then return. Despite the sweet moment, he has to wonder how many were actually in the closet as of now—they had been dating for almost two years.

He chuckled, his own nerves suddenly dissipating, and he pulled her into a tender kiss as their classmates cheered, before sliding the engagement ring on her finger and kissing her again.

After all was said and done, the rest of the guests and family began to eat and drink and toast, and Kirishima approaches Bakugou and Uraraka with a grin.

“So how many of those little doll things do you think she’ll make on their wedding night?” He asked, quietly with a grin, tilting his glass toward them.

“Probably best not to think about it,” Bakugou grumbled, an arm sllung around Uraraka, all three sipping their drinks and watching Todoroki and Yaoyorozu mingle.

Hard not to think about it, now.

The trio snickered, and Uraraka looked up at Bakugou.

“Are we next?” She whispered with wiggling eyebrows.

“Hn.” He grinned widely. “Guess we’ll see.”

Indeed.

[yrpspiritsintheshadows]

The Dark Man

The Dark Man

"Timmy?"

The boy looked up, his grey eyes widening at the sight of the investigators with his mother.

Carly knelt to his level.

"Mr. Miyamoto and Ms. Nicks want to talk to you about your drawings." She told him with a gentle look. The boy's eyes grew wide, grinning.

"Really?"

Eiji knelt to the boy's level, giving a warm smile.

"Really. I'm super impressed. They're really cool."

Tim giggled, picking up another notebook sitting on the floor with them.

"I got lots more!"

Carly stood back against the wall, trying to hide her worry.

Eiji narrowed his eyes as the boy started to flip through them.

"So, who's this?" He asked, pointing to an image of what he assumed was Tim, standing beside a large being with spindly limbs.

Tim froze up, shifting.

"Um…" He mumbled something.

Skyler frowned.

"We won't be mad, promise."

Tim fumbled with his hands, looking up at the two.

"He said if I told anyone, he'd hurt Mommy again." He whimpered.

Carly let out an audible gasp, covering her mouth.

Oh, doesn't that sound familiar…

"I can't tell you, Mama. It said it'd hurt you."

Eiji squeezed his shoulder gently.

"I promise you, while me and my friends are here, no one's gonna hurt your mommy."

"You mean it?"

Skyler smiled.

"He's right. Eiji never breaks his promises either. He's helped a lot of kids who had mean friends like yours."

Tim fumbled with the notebook page, uncertainty in his eyes before he took a deep breath.

"He's the Dark Man. He likes living in the basement… A-And in my closet." Tim pushed away his sketchbook, getting up, spreading his arms wide. "He's got arms, just like this. A-And he walks like his legs are broken."

Skyler wrote down what he said as Eiji nodded along.

"What does he do?"

"He said he has… somethin to do. Somethin, he doesn't wanna stop doing." The boy's lip quivered. "He's a bad man."

"He's not a friend, is he kiddo?"

Tim shook his head furiously.

"Do you want us to take him with us when we leave?" Eiji asked seriously. Skyler paused, giving him a warning look.

"Yes, please."

"I'm gonna do my best to take him with us, when we leave. But if I can't, I'll teach your mom how to protect you from him."

Tim perked up before something crossed his eyes. He ran over to his toy box, pulling something out.

"He doesn't like this." He held up a small plastic mirror. "He freaks out."

Eiji took it gingerly into his hands as an idea crossed his mind, a smirk coming to his face.

"The Dark Man hates mirrors, huh? That's great to know. Now, get packed up, okay?"

"Okay!"

Carly took him aside as Skyler stayed back to keep Tim busy.

"What if it does try to follow us?"

Eiji looked back before digging into his coat pocket. He handed her a paper tag, written on it was Japanese kanji with a strange symbol in a wax seal.

"What's this?"

"It's a protection tag, straight from the Memoria Coven. It'll enable you to leave virtually invisible to HIS eyes. He won't even know where you go. He has no choice but to stay and deal with us instead."

Her eyes welled up in tears of relief.

"What if you can't take him with?" She asked softly.

"If it's worst case scenario, we'll attempt to cleanse the house and if it's not working… then I'm gonna recommend you move as a last resort." he gave her a gentle look, "but I'm gonna try my best."

"Thank you… Thank you."

oooooo

After Carly had left with her son, the team set up their cameras and equipment all through the house.

"Alright, nerve center is in the back guest room. Let's finish setting up."

Chase groaned, setting a monitor on the table, bringing a hand to his back.

"Eiji, can't we just get fancy tablets for this?"

"I told you to lift with your knees, not your back." He said simply, hiding a smirk.

"With your knees, not with your back, meh." Chase muttered under his breath.

At the look Eiji gave him, Chase swallowed hard.

"I mean… If you wanna be like that, I guess you could just… go into the basement."

"HEY!"

"Kidding." Eiji looked around. "Alright, we got the night vision cams set up around the house. You got the full spectrum going in Tim's room and the parents room?"

"Yup. We can't see it with our own eyes but the cameras will." Chase grinned, leaning on the desk. "I also got full spectrum's going in the kitchen, the basement AND the front porch.

"Great. What're Lucian and Skyler doing?"

CRASH!

Their eyes went to the floor before looking to the camera in the basement. Lucian was rubbing his head while Skyler picked up the bag he had dropped.

"Ah, hit his head on a low hanging pipe." Eiji winced. "He's… fine, right?"

Chase rolled his eyes.

"This is Lucian we're talking about. NOTHING ever takes him out."

"True." He grabbed his radio. "Hey, what's going on down there you two?"

"We're just finishing setting up the REM pod in the basement too. Anything crosses here, we'll know."

"Great. Who's staying there?"

"Sky."

"Yup. Pendulum session!"

Eiji nodded to himself.

The REM pod, to detect when a spirit crossed its field, the full spectrum cameras, to see what the mortal eye could not.

They all carried their EVP recorders on them at all times during the investigation.

Let's see… Oh!

"Chase? Ghost box?"

"Already got it. I also brought um... that thing." Chase rubbed the back of his neck, not quite sure if what they had brought in was going to work. "You sure you want the freakin box of mirrors? We haven't had much luck with it..."

Eiji waved him off.

"The Dark Man apparently doesn't like mirrors." He smirked. "The Devil's Toy box will be perfect."

Most spirits won't fall for a box of mirrors, that's supposedly meant to trap them. But, if a spirit doesn't like mirrors and is trapped within it, it might let us take it out of here.

From that point on, the investigation had officially begun.

Alright, shift starts with Lucian in nerve center, then I'll be in Tim's room. Chase will be in the parents room and Sky's already in position.

Eiji grabbed up a bag, heading out as Lucian got into position at the monitors.

"Good luck."

"You too." He smirked before heading to Tim's room.

The house was dark now, the equipment working its best in the dark.

He first took out his EMF meter out, running it along the wall to get a reading. After a moment, the device beeped as Eiji pulled it away.

The reading wasn't too high to be dangerous but enough to let him know... he was not alone in Tim's room.

He snapped several pictures with his full spectrum camera, setting up a thermal camera as well.

Later on, they would take different readings but this was the start. The thermal camera would show him if anything unusually cold was in the room with him.

He kept it focused on him as he stood in the center of the room.

He closed his eyes, touching the necklace around his neck.

Please... light my path so I can help this family.

He opened his eyes, pulling out his EVP recorder, deciding it would be time for some questions. The device was able to let him speak to the dead and have them heard back without much energy use.

"Hello, is anyone here?"

He stayed silent, counting down from one hundred in his mind slowly, to allow whatever was in here with him, to speak.

Five... Four...Three...Two...

ONE!

He paused the recording, playing it back.

"Hello, is anyone there?" His voice echoed. There was interference in the background... until something hissed back.

"I am." A warped voice responded.

He turned the recorder back on.

"What's your name?"

He counted down once more... just as the EMF meter went off by itself, the number higher than before. The heck?

He played back the recording.

"Death... I AM DEATH!" The warped voice snarled through the recorder.

Eiji swallowed hard. Great, something's calling itself death.

I don't think it's a Lady or Sir Death either.

Eiji kept his composure, letting out a slow breath.

He wanted to mock it… but he instead, held his tongue.

"Why are you tormenting this family?" He asked.

There was something sliding across the floor, he couldn't see… right before a few of the toys on the floor started to go off.

A toy ambulance drove between his legs.

An animatronic teddy bear started to read off an audio book as a remote controlled helicopter lifted off the floor.

All around him, the room seemed to come alive suddenly as he watched where he stepped.

All of these run on batteries.

Ghosts will sometimes drain devices of their battery life to boost their strength.

Eiji slowly inched for the door, leaning against it. He cussed under his breath as a toy plane buzzed by his head.

One minute, the room was loud, full of energy the next, silent. The toys in the air, dropped to the floor, the toys on the shelves or moving across the floor halted.

Utterly. Silent.

A hand clamped down on his left shoulder.

"I can touch you." The warped voice hissed in his ear, clear as day.

oooooo

Lucian narrowed his eyes, focusing on the monitors.

Eiji was backed up against the door, shaking his head as he tried swatting at something the man couldn't make out.

He took a look over at Chase's monitor, the history teacher talking to something, trying to get his device to respond only for a frustrated look to come to his eyes.

It's only focused on one of us. It doesn't want you, Chase.

He looked over to the basement monitor. Skyler was sitting cross legged on the floor, her eyes closed. Meditating.

Her pendulum was dangling from her hand, the pendant utterly still.

So, it hasn't visited her yet either.

It really only wants Eiji currently-

He narrowed his eyes, focusing on one of the cameras. Eiji had stopped flailing around.

Lucian looked up, eyes widening as a shadow darted across the wall. He jumped up, snapping pictures around the room immediately.

"Eiji, getting shadow figures in Nerve Center. I think your buddy found me." He called into the radio.

"On my way. Looks like we're gonna have a seance on our hands at this rate."

"Maybe we can chase it down to Sky-"

An ice cold hand ran down his arm as he froze up. The man looked around before focusing on his limb, snapping pictures frantically.

"EIJI, ANY DAY NOW-"

Eiji slammed a protection tag onto the wall just inside the doorway.

There was a shriek as a rush of energy blindsided Eiji, sending him against the doorframe. He panted, looking over to Lucian, concern in his eyes.

"You okay?"

"Fine. It didn't get a chance to do what it likes best. What happened in there?"

Eiji merely held up the EVP, playing the recordings. Lucian's eyes widened as the spirit's voice echoed in the room.

There was a crash in the kitchen as something was thrown against the wall.

"Okay, this is getting nuts for the first go." Lucian shuddered, grabbing his radio. "Skyler, Chase, be careful, this thing's stronger than we thought."

"Should Eiji get the toybox ready?"

"Not yet." Eiji cut in. "We don't know what it wants yet."

Lucian stared him down before shrugging, giving a smirk.

"So mote it be, Boss." His eyes narrowed. "C'mon."

oooooo

Chase sighed, drumming his fingers on the nightstand.

"Is there anyone who'd like to come forth?" He asked, glancing at the ghost box beside him. It had been pretty quiet on his end. Nothing to make note of besides how many floorboards the room had… that he could see at least.

He picked up his thermal imaging camera, looking around the room…

Just as something very large and black appeared on the camera. Chase let out a gulp.

"Oh god and goddess." He whispered.

The figure was, judging from the camera feedback, directly in front of him, looking down at him.

It had to be at least seven feet tall, maybe larger if he had to guess, entirely cold.

Cause only living crap shows up warm on this sucker.

He took a deep breath.

Alright, property history.

It was owned in the 1920's by Orson Falkner. He didn't die on the property though and was not involved in anything strange that would make him come back like this.

Not to mention, reports claimed he was a beloved figure in the community and would never hurt a fly.

Alright, narrow it down, narrow it down.

He loved this job. It was exciting, it was terrifying.

He never felt more alive than when faced with death head on.

The man backed up on the bed he had been sitting on as the figure moved with him. Chase's hands shook as the figure crawled on all fours.

"Hey, easy now. Don't need to get so excited! What's your name?"

One second, Chase was looking down at the figure… The next, his face was cold as a hand pressed against it.

In a millisecond, white hot pain flashed through him as he screamed, dropping the camera.

"GET OFF OF ME!"

He fell off the bed, taking off running for the door. The entity was faster though, grabbing his leg as he pried the door open.

"GUYS! I NEED HELP-AAAUGH!"

More pain bloomed through his leg as he was pulled to the floor, back into the room, thrown against the back wall.

He was dazed as a shadowy figure stopped in front of the door. Long spindly limbs, a dark body…

Red eyes stared back at him before disappearing through the floor… to the basement.

Chase grabbed up his camera, bolting out of the room.

"LUCIAN! EIJI-"

WHAM!

He slammed right into Eiji as the two stumbled back.

"Ow! Chase-Oh good goddess…" Eiji's eyes widened.

Chase had a long cut down the right side of his face, a small trickle of blood on his chin from it. His face was bruised as well.

Lucian cursed, taking his face into his hands.

"Scale of one to ten?"

"I don't have time to play patient right now." He shook Lucian off, running for the basement stairs, the others in hot pursuit. "It's down in the basement! I saw it!"

Lucian and Eiji exchanged a look. Eiji grabbed one of their equipment bags off of the kitchen table.

"It's time."

Let's end this.

He had hoped they could run as many experiments as they wanted. Use as much equipment as they needed but this was getting too dangerous.

Chase is bleeding from his face and who knows where else… and if it's down there with Sky…

The basement was pitch black, their only source of light was their full spectrum cameras.

Skyler was still calm, sitting in the center of the room.

"Skyler?! You okay!?"

She jumped as Chase ran to her side, looking around.

"I-I'm fine. What was with all that crap up there?"

Eiji ignited a match as a candle was lit.

"We got a spirit to trap in the toy box is all."

Skyler pocketed her pendulum, taking the candle from him, Lucian and Chase grabbing their own out of the equipment bag.

When things got as rough as fast as it had, it was always good to have some insurance.

Illuminated by the candles light, they placed them in the four corners of the room. Eiji looked around as his eyes adjusted. He made note of something covered up by a tarp, going to it.

His reflection stared back as he tugged it off, a full sized mirror in front of him. He smirked, pulling it into place.

"Alright, we went over the plan during set up. Get those mirrors we found out and get ready." Eiji told them, as he retrieved the most important item in this plan.

The Devil's Toy Box. It was small, not very impressive in appearance. This particular one, was set up like a maze on the inside, designed to confuse entities trapped within.

They usually didn't have much luck with it because spirits were smarter than they appeared. But, if a spirit hated mirrors and had no choice but to bounce around them…

Eiji set the item on the ground before going around the room. He pulled out a vial of salt from his pocket, going around each member of the team, drawing a circle around their feet with it as each stood in the four corners of the room.

Eiji was the past to get into position as a shadow darted across the wall.

This isn't a proper cleansing…

But who said it is?

"Hey! You think you're big and tough just because you call yourself Death!?" He called out, holding his own mirror up - the small one Tim had given to him. "If you're really that strong, go ahead, try to get all four of us!"

The candles flickered as the entity screamed, causing the team to flinch but they didn't waver.

The shadow on the wall grew as the spindly limbs of the entity were shown to them.

It charged Skyler first as she swung her mirror in its direction, causing it to bounce off of it, the circle keeping her safe from harm.

The spirit changed its direction, rushing Lucian next, only to be met with the same result.

Chase, swung his mirror as hard as he could as the entity slammed into it dead on… sending it right to Eiji.

Eiji braced himself as the surge of energy rushed him, the tiny mirror being his only means of deflection.

I infuse my intent, to shine light in this area, in this home. For this object to help me defend Tim, to defend Carly, to defend my friends.

To defend anyone from being harmed by this entity again.

LIGHT MY PATH!

The entity slammed against the mirror… ricocheting across the room towards the full sized mirror. It was positioned, facing the Devil's Toy Box.

The entity shrieked as it was slammed against the mirror… as the Devil's Toybox began to shake, until the lid clamped shut on its own. The candles went out, bathing the area in darkness once more.

They held their breath, waiting in case it didn't work… only for the box to stay still. Eiji rushed forward, salting the area around the box as he lit a flashlight this time.

"That, I believe, concludes the investigation." He grinned up at his teammates, relieved.

The entity wasn't going to be getting out any time soon. The air seemed clearer as well. Like a heavy fog had been lifted.

He looked to the little plastic mirror in his hands, seeing a large scratch across its surface, marring his reflection.

"Thanks, Tim." He whispered.

Lucian stepped out of his circle, lighting his own flashlight. He put it under his face, sneering at Chase.

"And since, we're done… You have five seconds."

"... Ahhh frick." He grinned sheepishly. "Lucy, c'mon! We just had a victory a-and you heard what the lady said, it'll just disappear-"

Skyler poked his cheek as he hissed.

"Ow! SKY!"

"Go with the Emperor of the Underworld. Now."

He grumbled, but did as told.

"Eiji, you owe me."

"I'll cook you all a good dinner. Just glad it's all over now." He sighed in relief.

Now to get home.

oooooo

The house was dark when they got back. Everyone was exhausted, just glad to head to their own cars and head home.

"Hey, Chase, you want me to drive ya home?" Skyler offered. The man stammered a little, giving her a surprised look.

Eiji looped an arm around his shoulders.

"Boy, he sure would, he's just speechless!" He exclaimed. "Ain't that right, Chase?"

Chase nodded mutely, giving him a grateful look as he followed Skyler to her car.

Lucian chuckled.

"He's gonna need more help with that."

"Oh, majorly. Thanks for tonight."

"You know I love what we do. Take care now." Lucian gave a wave before driving off as well.

Soon enough, all was quiet again, Eiji making his way inside, keeping quiet.

The living room was lit by the light of the television, a DVD menu on the screen.

Carmen and Ken were curled up together on the couch, both fast asleep. Carmen's dark hair splayed around her like a curtain, Ken's head tucked under his mother's.

Awww…

He shook his head, grabbing an afghan out of the linen closet, laying it over them, trying not to jostle them.

Okami perked up from her place laying next to the couch.

"Rrf?"

"Shhh…"

He supposed he hadn't been quiet enough since Carmen stirred, a green eye opening.

"Mm…? Eiji?"

He kissed her head.

"Go back to sleep. I'm home."

She shook her head, motioning for him to grab Ken.

It was a silent exchange as Eiji carefully lifted his son into his arms. Ken didn't shift, thankfully just huddling closer to his father, sighing happily.

Carmen rose up, the afghan draped around her shoulders. She leaned up, kissing his cheek.

"Love you." She whispered.

"Love you too." He kissed her head as they made their way upstairs.

Soon enough, they had Ken tucked into bed, Okami making herself comfortable at the foot of his bed once more.

Carmen smiled softly, turning to head into their room… letting out a small squeak, as she was lifted up.

"Eiji!" She hissed.

Eiji gave her a silly grin, carrying her to their room.

"Oh, let me spoil my lovely bride."

She rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Nerd."

"Your nerd." He dropped her unceremoniously on their bed before heading to get changed. "Oh man, I had a heck of a night."

"That bad huh?"

"It was trying to imitate a Sir Death." Eiji rolled his eyes. "One of the times I wish I could've seen it dead on and smacked it."

She made room as he laid beside her, bringing her into his arms. Carmen kissed his head, huddling closer.

"You don't need special eyes to do what you do best."

He smiled, burying his face in her hair.

"You always know what to say." He yawned. "I love you."

"Love you more."

He tightened his arms around her.

"Love you for eternity."

Safe and sound.

Where I'm meant to be.

[alrightinbed-betterwithapen]

Busted — David x Natalie

A/N: a loverly anon asked me for Natalie and David realizing their feelings. I basically can’t not write smut at this point in my life so here you go! Smutty, smut smut folks!

Summary: Four times they almost get caught. And the fifth time? The fifth time is really their own fault.

Send me requests here!

XxxX

There are four terrifying moments in David and Natalie’s lives where they almost get caught fucking.

Well, technically there are five. During the fifth time... well, let’s just say the word almost doesn’t really apply.

XxxX

The first time is mid April of last year.

David’s 420 vlog is looming and he’s so on edge without posting tri-weekly, he might burst. They all said it would be good for him, he needed a break, but Natalie knew better. David’s life was entirely encompassed by the vlogs. It made him stressed, crazy and exhausted, and he loved every moment of it.

He’s stir crazy, coming up with one idea after the other, the next one as good as the last, yet he’s pulling at his hair and bent over in frustration on the couch. Natalie can’t bear it, he’s so wound up he can’t think straight. She doesn’t like seeing him like this, so unlike himself.

That’s why she drops to her knees in front of him and stares until he mets her gaze. Her hands go to start unbuttoning his black jeans, unwavering from their intense shared look. He lifts his hips to help her push them down to his ankles. And he really can’t help grabbing her ponytail and pulling her face towards his lap. Natalie takes him fully into her mouth, sucking him to full hardness, allowing saliva to dribble out and around him.

The sticky, wet mess sounds obscene as David takes over control of the pace she had set, guiding her mouth over his dick in quick, rough strokes. She starts to gag when his cock hits the back of her throat, but that makes him speed up. He’s groaning openly into the room, fucking Natalie’s face with force behind each thrust. She’s bracing his thighs and opening her throat when David’s grip tightens in her hair and pulls her completely off.

“C’mere,” he murmurs while releasing her hair, yanking her black Clickbait shorts and underwear to the side as he maneuvers her onto his lap. Her arms wrap around his neck, hands curling to grip the hair at the base of his neck when he lines his cock up with her slit, leaking slick just from blowing him.

Their haggard groans bounce off the walls as she sinks down onto him, David’s hands biting into her hips. Fully seated, Natalie leans forward to press her lips to his, pushing her tongue in to find his. He pulls her forward sharply to bottom out, starting slow, deep thrusts that have her moaning into his mouth. She’s rocking her hips with his guidance, doing her best to not pull away from their sloppy kiss, but he’s making her whole body jerk with each rough pound into her cunt. Natalie has to break their kiss and rest her forehead on his shoulder when scoots both their bodies to the edge of the couch, hands bruising her hips, and starts fucking her properly.

That’s when they both hear the garage opening from down the hallway to their bedrooms. Natalie is stunned, still in David’s arms and eyes wide with terror. Then he’s yanking her off his dick and lap in one go, throwing her on to the couch next to him. There’s not a moment for either of them to groan from the loss before he’s standing and pulling his pants back on. Natalie just adjusts her panties and shorts while grabbing the white blanket on the back of the couch to cover her lap.

David’s running a hand through his hair, trying to calm down as the door to the garage squeaks open. He looks at the brunette for a brief moment while moving towards the kitchen, a slight grin on his lips. Natalie grabs for her phone she sat on the coffee table earlier, opening Twitter to distract herself from whoever was making their way towards them.

“Alright, what the hell are we filming today, Dave?” Jason announces as he rounds the hallway into the living space. “Hey, Nat,” he says, giving her a nod as he continues to David in the kitchen. Natalie steals a glance back once Jason had passed her, watching David take a long drag from a water bottle.

He smirks at her.

She rolls her eyes.

XxxX

The second time is in June, and they’re in Chicago.

The club they’re at is packed and Ilya is getting seriously fucked up. So are all the other Vernon Hill boys, but Ilya was really making it his mission to not be able to remember this evening come tomorrow. David is pumped for the footage, but can’t stop looking over at Natalie. She’s wearing a short skirt and translucent blouse that shows off her chest beautifully.

She knows she’s distracting him, so she actively tries to make herself sparse, getting slightly drunk and meandering around the club. He’s not deterred though, moving the group wherever she goes. At least she’s a pleasant distraction for him.

David drops his camera on Mike’s lap and tells him he’ll be back when he sees Natalie skirt away and down the hall of the club towards the restrooms. Having been here before, David is aware that there are single bathrooms down this way, the kind that are perfect for pushing Natalie into and getting his hands on her as he slams and locks the door behind him.

She’s laughing turning in his arms to fall into a kiss they’d been avoiding all night. He’s fast though, knowing what he wants when he lifts her onto the sink and pushes her skirt up.

“You’re not wearing underwear?” David groans, kissing her neck and feeling her wet folds. “Fuuuuck, you’re gonna kill me, Nat.”

“Yeah, probably, but fuck me first,” she replies, pulling at the button of his jeans and dragging down his zipper. He’s hard, he’s been hard since he saw Natalie’s outfit for the night. He’s pulling himself out of his boxer briefs as he turns her around, making her stand and face the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink.

“I want you to watch your slutty little self get fucked,” he says, hand in her hair, stare boring into her through the mirror. She nods and spreads her legs while leaning most of her weight on the sink. He rubs some of the wetness from her on his dick before spitting crudely in his palm and pumping himself. Natalie’s hips impatiently twitch back, watching him with bated breath. David’s smirk should be illegal, she thinks when he pushes all the way in with one fluid roll of his hips.

Natalie’s jaw drops in the mirror, a drunken little uh coming out of her. Davids eye snap shut at that, hips stuttering out a few sharp thrusts without his permission.

“How are you so fucking tight, huh? Little whores that walk around nightclubs without panties shouldn’t be this tight,” he tells her, fucking into her roughly. She’s still staring at him, mouth open, body jerking with his brutal pace. She can’t take it anymore.

“David, fuck! Yeah, please, faster,” she begs, watching him look down to where he’s slipping in and out of her, a look of great concentration on his face.

“Pleeeease Dave, please. Fuck me, fuuuuck me,” she’s crying when he shoves in at just the right angle to hit her g-spot. His head jerks up, peering into Natalie’s desperate eyes, his lips red from biting them as he fucked her. In that moment, he could come just from how slutty and wanton she’s acting, cunt gripping around him.

The moment is interrupted though, by a loud banging on the door.

“Natalie! Are you in there?!” Dima is yelling from the other side of the door, going to wiggle the handle but finding it locked. “Hey, I saw you come this way and I don’t know if you’re in there, but if you are, you should know we’re being kicked out- hey, don’t fuckin’ touch me dude, gimme a second!” they both hear him cut himself off to yell at someone in the hallway, probably security.

“Ilya puked on a bottle girl and they want us out! You need to find David and meet us outside!” He’s hollering, voice growing quieter as he’s most likely being dragged away by the bouncers.

David’s still inside of Natalie, both of them sporting a panicked and mortified face. They just stare at each other, punch drunk with adrenaline, before separating and pulling their clothes back on.

David peeks his head out the door to find the hallway empty, turning to tell Natalie to leave first and he’ll wait a couple minutes. She’s blushes the whole walk outside, ass stinging from the slap David gave her as she trudged out of the dirty bathroom.

XxxX

The third time is in September, when David and Alex have the brilliant idea to pop boner pills.

They’re driving home after dropping Alex off at the apartment. David’s giggly, hyped up and talking a million miles an hour, every once and while reaching down to push on his crotch, desperately trying to relieve pressure.

Natalie’s just drunk enough from her night out with friends, that she doesn’t hesitate to kneel up on the passenger seat and reach over the console to David’s lap. Her hand massages him through his jeans, looking towards him with bitten lips.

“Are you gonna help me out, baby girl,” he mewls, reaching out to turn on self driving, pushing his seat back a bit. Natalie’s nodding as she frees his cock from the confines of his dark, skinny jeans. He is hard, like, a scary shade of red and the head turning purple, hard. She salivates while dropping to lick at the tip, gripping the base. His hands dig into his own scalp while letting Natalie settles into a rhythm, bobbing on his cock and then pausing to lick the vein underneath.

Davids hands flail outwards, hitting his steering wheel hard a couple times when Natalie takes one of his balls into her mouth to suck on while still stroking his shaft. He’s letting out a long, desperate Fuuuuck, when a voice sounds loudly around the Tesla through the speakers.

“David?” Alex’s confused voice asks through the Bluetooth call that he somehow made without realizing, “Hey, are you okay dude?”

Natalie stills, glancing up at David, her glassy, drunk eyes wide. He’s shocked as she is and tries to collect himself before sputtering, “Yeah dude, sorry. Just starting to feel really weird from those pills. I didn’t realize I called you. My bad.”

Natalie pulls away from David and back to her side of the car, wiping her mouth, giving him the most evil little smile he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, I know, me too. Just fucking put it on self drive and get the fuck home. I don’t need you killing yourself and taking Nat with you,” Alex says around a huffed out laugh, none the wiser to what had been happening in the car when he picked up the call.

“For sure, I’ll call you in the morning. Talk to ya later,” David reassures, before swiftly ending the call.

Natalie’s laugh is outrageous and she’s doubled over for a good couple minutes. David just grips his cock, throwing his head back, cursing those stupid fucking pills when Natalie says she’ll finish him off when they get home.

XxxX

The fourth time is during Halloween.

Natalie is dressed up as a devil and David has to really concentrate to not focus his camera on her cleavage while vlogging. She looks so good and David just wants to leave bite marks and hickies on her chest.

She’s dancing around all night, taking advantage of her near bare body being on display. Every once in a while throwing him a flirty, sultry look, each gaze piling up until he snaps. The squad and their friends are now back at David’s, continuing the party well into the night, when he sends her a text that simply says,

I need you to take care of something in the garage.

She doesn’t run, she walks briskly, politely leaving a conversation with Corinna and Kristen to head out to David. When she opens the door, he’s leaning on the back end of his Tesla, the garage door open, staring out into the night. He turns to her, smiling, and jerks his head, motioning follow me. He’s pushing off the car, walking out of the open room and rounding the corner that leads to the five foot wide run along the side of the garage.

Natalie’s smile is bright and sober. She wanted to stay clear headed to remember how David fucks her after a whole night of teasing. There’s a tall, wide shrub that obscures the opening of the run that she has to maneuver around. David is leaning against the rough stucco of his home, palming himself.

Stepping forward, she tells him quietly, “I’m not kneeling on the ground in this to blow you. Just so you know.” He just looks her up and down, a fucking sex demon with lingerie to match.

Grabbing her hip and spinning them so he’s shoving her against the wall, he barricades her in with his right arm, the left running down her chest. He briefly tweaks a nipple through the thin lace and continues his way down to her stomach. She likes this demeanor he has on and stays still on the wall, arms hanging limp at her sides. She lets him massage her mound through the thin fabric, making her throb and start to leak through her clothing. She tilts her head when he leans into her neck, allowing him space to leave kisses.

David pulls back and presses his forehead gently to Natalie’s, a sweet moment juxtaposed by the way he slips his hands into her panties and starts collecting her slick on his first two fingers.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The only way you could look better right now is if you were coming around me,” he purrs, eyes searching hers feverishly. He’s pushing into her cunt when he says, “I guess I’ll have to settle for around my fingers.”

Natalie bits her lip, bringing her hands to David’s face and pulling him into a dirty open mouthed kiss. He’s stroking her insides in search of that one spot that makes her scream. As he finds it, loud voices come pouring out of the garage, the sound of the door opening and shutting. She bites his lip hard to stifle a moan.

Zane, Todd and Ilya are laughing about something and they can hear bottles clinking as David keeps caressing her sweet spot and sucking on her tongue. Natalie doesn’t know why she’s not stopping their kiss, but he isn’t putting an end to it either. It’s getting harder and harder to not make noises, and she has to pull away from his lips and bite his shoulder to stop the whimpers when his thumb finds her clit, still working his fingers inside her.

Footsteps grow closer and then stop at the edge of the garage where it meets the run. They pause simultaneously then, almost busted if not for the shrub. And then there’s the tell tale sounds of puking and vomit splattering on the ground. Zane and Todd whoop and try to rally Ilya as David and Natalie cringe. Then the boys are trudging back inside, Ilya yelling about another round of shots. David’s fingers are unmoving inside her when he asks, “Moment killed, huh?”

Natalie knocks her head back on the wall letting out a huge groan of frustration.

Yeah, yeah it was.

XxxX

The fifth time is during Christmas.

Natalie and David never learn from their close calls. They never actually figure out what it is they’re doing. They just keep longing and looking and breaking and then fucking in the closest possible semi-private location they can find.

That bites them in the ass back home in Chicago.

There’s a party at Ilya’s and David has Natalie’s legs wrapped around his waist, perched on the edge of the desk in the office. He’s kissing her breathless and pounding into her soaked pussy, the sound of wet squelching and skin slapping fills the abandoned room. They don’t notice the door crack open or the random girl pull her phone out and start recording.

No, neither even realize what’s happened until the next morning when David’s phone starts blowing up. They watch the video in bed together, cringing the entire way through. When it ends they sit silently.

“So, what do we do now?” She asks.

“I don’t know, do we do like an explanation video?”

“Saying what?” She presses, “Oh, yeah. We just fuck every once in a while, no big!”

David laughs at the thought. No, they can’t do that. He’s turning to sit towards her on the bed and sighs, “So, we stop fucking and never acknowledge it?”

“I don’t want that.”

“Yeah, me either Natalie,” he stresses, rolling his eyes, “People will be commenting about it, literally, forever if we don’t address it.”

“No, I mean I don’t want to stop... us.” Her words feel like a confession.

“Me either,” David mumbles softly, taking in her nervous form, picking at her nails and foot twitching rhythmically. Waking up with Natalie made his whole day amazing. When she kisses him, he forgets every problem in his life. He wants to make her feel good and writhe under him forever. He wants her.

“I think I might be in love with you,” he admits, the words coming out for the first time, while the feeling is a familiar ache inside him. He waits for her to speak and wants to die. She doesn’t say anything for several long moments.

“I think I might be in love with you too,” she finally confesses.

He smiles and pulls her into a kiss that leads to making out that leads to fucking in the early morning sun on his hotel bed.

When they’re showered and dressed, David pulls out his phone, Natalie firm on his lap and tells Snapchat all about his new girlfriend.

If he spends over half the story ranting about how shitty Ilya’s friends are, well, that’s his prerogative.

Natalie laughs the whole way through.

XxxX